Ravenloft: Prisoners of the Mist

Within the swirling Mist (IC) => Biographies => Topic started by: Bluebomber4evr on October 23, 2005, 04:36:15 PM

Title: Post your character bio here
Post by: Bluebomber4evr on October 23, 2005, 04:36:15 PM
Hello, everyone! With our second beta getting ready to be open to the public soon, I'd like to take the opportunity to invite you all to post information on the characters you plan on playing.

Where did your PC come from? What are his/her motivations, fears, dreams? What made them become an adventurer? What makes them tick?

You don't need to write it out in-character, but it doesn't have to be dry and dull, either. ;) Just a brief synopsis of who and what they are, where they came from, and why they are the way they are. :)

Have fun!
Title: Post your character bio here
Post by: Motley on October 26, 2005, 07:53:43 AM
The fairytale begins with nobility declaring his undying love to his lover; a half-elf, renowned along the swordcoast for her skills as both a thief and courtesan. There is a catch, however, and this is the part where all semblance of innocence dissapears- the noble in question was not in fact human, but was in fact lycanthrope nobility.
They lived their first few years together as most do, spending their time together in loving matrimony. It was at this point that the half-elf noticed a change in her husband. Her husband, long a devotee of an unknown god began to change, both physically and in demeanour. He grew unbelievably large, packing on bulging slabs of muscle, his visage became more bestial by the day and his mood darker. Slowly he grew more distant and his wife- out of concern for his wellbeing- confronted him. He claimed that his purpose in life was drawing nearer, that he was chosen by his god himself as a crusader against those who would do wrong. He steadily grew hostile, even to the point of violence when she questioned him about his newfound quest. He gave her an ultimatum, follow him or leave him. Over the previous few weeks the half-elf found she was pregnant, yet kept it secret as her husband grew more unstable by the day. She elected to follow out of both fear for her child and love for her husband...



William "Griffin" Thurin's first clear memory was stealing copper coins from his nurse's drawer at four, it was these first memories that shaped his life in the years to come. Griffin grew up in a Baldur's Gate orphanage, knowing nothing of who his parents were, knowing nothing of where he had come from and knowing nothing of what he was. His teachers and nurses were thoroughly convinced he was a thief. Where he went dissapearances followed, yet they could never prove it no matter how hard they tried. Griff would dissapear from the orphanage for long periods and it baffled his carers. No matter how much they punished him he'd persist in doing it, and no matter what they tried he would always dissapear, never to be seen for days at a time. No matter how drastic the measure they took, whether it was locking him in the windowless cellar or even in their own rooms while they slept he would dissapear. Griff, in truth, had more coins stocked in caches around the orphanage all to himself than the orphanage had in it's entire existance, and soon he left, never to return. Griff made his own way in the streets. If it was illegal he could exploit it. He soon found his niche among the ladies of negotiable affection that populated the alleys and docks of the port city and offered protection in exchange for gold. He excelled at his job, it was his calling at the time and he loved it. Griff, despite not being the largest of men had a punch like a morningstar and anyone messing with "his girls" was found battered and bruised in a gutter, minus their coins and a few teeth. Needless to say, the troublemakers never messed with the girls again, not only because of the battering they were given, but because of the shame of having this battering delivered by a mere boy. Griff's skill in a fight didn't go unnoticed and soon he was a regular fixture in bare-knuckle fight circles in the city's seedier taverns and ale houses. He went unbeaten...
It was at fifteen that he gained a small glimpse into his future, it was at fifteen that he commited murder among the alleys, remembering nothing of his crime. Yet more years passed and Griff eventually became the city's premier thief, morally empty entrepeneur and perveyer of all things unscrupulous. Griff, however morally ambiguous he was never tolerated one thing. Slavery. It was at this time that Griff learnt of the owner of his former home and of a Kara-Turian slaver who's grip was slowly tightening on his home city. They were one and the same. The Kara-Turian used the orphanage as a business venture; the orphans after reaching a certain age were sold as slaves.
Griff hunted the slaver across the city, eventually confronting him in his own compound. Twelve people were killed that night, eighteen people were given a new life, free of slavery. Griff confronted the slaver in his den, and in that moment the beast took over. The slaver was literally torn to shreds as Griff's anger overwhelmed him.
Griff took six trophies from that bloody night; an ornate katana that belonged to the Kara-Turian and five chest wounds from the crossbow bolts of the city guard as he was caught...
The mists surrounded them and the guards were never seen again. Griff, however...







Griff has no goals outside of his own immediate desires. Sex, drugs and gold. His life revolves around acquiring all three of these things and nothing more and he will do anything to get the objects of his desires. Griff is rogue incarnate, an untrustworthy, morally ambiguous fast-talker. He's not used to losing, and what's worse, he never does, or at least hasn't yet. Extremities follow him like a shadow, his personality drawing extreme reactions from people, those around him either immediately loathing him or loving him. He immediately seems quite affable, and definitely isn't the ugliest of people and he uses both to take advantage of those that judge a book by it's cover, fleecing them for all they're worth whether it be wealth or emotions. Griff has incredible luck, lucking his way into and out of the most ridiculous and outlandish of situations with nary a scratch, though his companions are never as lucky. He believes himself as the epitome of being free, neither tied down by social standards nor moral boundaries. Growing up with no rolemodels he has no moral boundaries, somewhere within him lurks something that could be better, but whether it will come out remains to be seen. Somewhere within him his heritage lurks, the crimes of his father weigh heavily on his future and his mother looks for him still. What happened to his parents, will he ever grow up, will something that could be better be nurtured within him, what will happen to him when he finds out what he is?
These blanks are for you to fill in. The char is a blank slate, and only his experiences within Ravenloft will change him.  What will you do when you meet William "Griffin" Thurin?
Title: Thrar Feivrine
Post by: romeo_longsword on November 04, 2005, 05:37:02 AM
Thrar Feivrine

Born and bread in Elven Empire of Cormanthyr, Thrar Feivrine is one of the smaller numbers of Moon Elf in its population, nevertheless, there has been a long and diverse mixed of cultures and traditions, letting Thrar benefits with a healthy up brining of a typical combination of both Wood and Moon Elf, although he does not easily trust others, and even more difficult for the non elves, Thrar is nevertheless a polite young being with a kind nature.

With a Druid as his mother and his father as a scholar, Thrar’s family background is a theosophical one. With the influence from his parents, he has developed an interest in cartography, and which he would benefit from his more out going nature of the Mood Elf. And so, he travelled and practiced the trade, until one day, a strange mist appeared, clouded his surrounding and baring, led him to a land that is difficult to be mark by ink and paper.
Title: Post your character bio here
Post by: StoutKegtapper on November 17, 2005, 06:06:22 PM
Name: Stout Kegtapper
Class: Fighter / Dwarven Defender
Alignment: Lawfull Neutral

The Kegtapper clan is known throughout the Highland clans as fierce alcoholics, master brewers, master smiths, great farmers, and usually the instigator to any bar fight. Kegtappers take great pride in there ales and spirits.  Many families in the Kegtapper clan where dedicated to just farming the hops, barley, potatoes, and all other ingredients the brewery needed.  Other families where dedicated to protecting and mining for minerals for the brewery.  In all one could say that the Kegtappers relied on nothing from anyone in order to create there master spirits and ales.  Ale and sprits was the only currency the Kegtapper clans had.  And all other Highland clans consider Kegtapper ales and spirits as more precious than gold.  Food, clothing, and all other items necessary for life and luxury are traded to support the clan.  Stout was named after his exceptionally hairy ass, back and chest upon birth which looked like one big fluffy sweater.    
Stout grew up in a rather large family of the clan as the youngest.  Being the youngest his elder brothers would tease and pick on Stout in all forms of brotherly love.   Most of Stouts early days as a wee dwarf where spent in the Family brewery, which was kept in spotless condition with tender love and care in which would truly shock any outsiders who would happen to see the brewery.  Non Highlanders where not allowed into the brewery though, this is considered to taint the brew and would be the only batch to be exported to outsiders as it was to be considered a “bad batch” to Kegtapper standards.  Many hours where spent cleaning and tending to the brewery.  Many more hours where spent selecting by hand hops or malt husks which where selected and then tended to with great care, what was rejected was then resold to other breweries and considered worthless to Kegtapper standards.  
Behind the brewery is where the Kegtappers did there smithing.  They created there own brew kettles, conditioning tanks, casks, and all other equipment needed for there brewery considering all outside materials would taint there batch.  This is also where stout learned the basis of armor and weapon crafting. It’s a Kegtapper  tradition to make your own armor and weapon to defend the brewery from any form of tainting.   At a young age Stout was taste testing and sampling the ales and sprits and eventually became a connoisseur.  Stout learned the ways of fighting like a true Highland erin both bar fights and on the battlefield.  Stouts temper is as short as he is tall building him a reputation of a bar brawler.  On his free time between batches of ale and spirits Stout would perfect his smithing, taking great pride in his work as would any dwarf.   During the nights you would find Stout wooing the ladies with his drinking abilities at the Inn at the edge of the Kegtapper border which was considered a tourist location known for its cheap prices on Kegtapper ales and spirits.   Stout is known for his lack of bathing (unless he is entering the brewery then he has to bath each time anyone enters), chewing with his mouth open, using his beard as a napkin, fear of large bodies of water, and a natural distaste for orc and ken.  
The love of drink and fight soon took its toll on Stout and his wanderlust took hold with the help of his fathers boot up his arse.   Traveling the lands soon stout learned that he didn’t know common… didn’t know any language other than dwarven.  This is where many find it hard to understand Stout. Should you speak or write to him in Dwarven you would see just how well educated he is in the Dwarven language with proper grammar and punctuation.  Those who travel with Stout will soon learn that he is quick to make rash decisions and is always needing to be looked out after in order to keep the party out of troubles.  Only friends of Stout can change his mind, thus a wandering Stout on the road is best left alone and avoided.   Making friends with Stout is no easy task unless you are a Highlander, then you are considered an instant friend to Stout.  Stout has been seen to cry only twice in his life, once soon after he arrived in Barovia and his keg of ale ran dry that he brought from his homeland and the second when he found out he could never return home to get another keg.  Many who witnessed this dwarf cry can say he screamed like a little girl while hugging his empty keg.
When Stout left to venture forth on his wanderlust he soon was surrounded by trees, then mist... He saw someone down the road, heard a twig snap near him, thought he saw a tree move and decided to run to where he saw the dark figure.... This is all Stout rembers till he awoken with confusion. Stout figured he got to drunk to remember where he was, which is something not to uncommon so he wandered the land.. Thus begins the story of Stout Kegtapper.
Title: Post your character bio here
Post by: Fiddle_Snuff on November 24, 2005, 03:42:46 PM
Rowena Hallendt

When she was young her famillys wealth was allmost gone, and slowly over the years expenditure and a lack of viable income allmost forced them into a poor house. So they did what any other respectable upper middles class fmailly would do in the same position, they looked for a wealthy merchant familly to marrie there daughter into. As luck would have it they found such a familly, wealthy and respectible, with a handsome son. Rowena was married at 19 and the two famillys increased in wealth and status in waterdeep.

For a number of years Rowena was happy in her marriage to William Eastridge, and when her mother and farther in law died the estate, the Eastridge fortune and the trading company was handed over to william to take charge of.

Over the years Rowena saw that her husband William was not the man she married, and they grew increasingly distant to one another, and Rowena found refuge in the fortunes the marriage brought her, and the status which she enjoyed. As the years went by Rowena grew to hate her husband and her husband unbeknown to Rowena was increasingly growing reckless and foolish with the buisness and slowly wittled away his wealth on foolish ventures, and careless book keeping and expenditure.

Increasingly bitter and prone to throwing the odd glass of Gin at william whenever they thought (wich was allmost on a daily basis) Rowena in her thortys turned into a bitter shrew, who found a refuge away from her husband.

Suspecting she was having an affair (in reality she was up to something much more scandless) William sent her away to there second home (wich they could not actually afford) and on the way her caridge was attacked by clumsy and rather oafish bandits.

Rowena made a narrow escape from the bandits and fled into some nearby woods in the cover of some unusuall heavy fog.

Now in a strange new land, with no money, no status, and no immidiate prospects of getting home Rowena searches a way to escape the mists and return home to Waterdeep. Now she uses her maiden name Hallendt.
Title: Post your character bio here
Post by: Gretch the Wretch on November 24, 2005, 05:31:11 PM
Son of a black marketer, Agun Soric became familiar with the illegitimate side of business at a very young age. His father, Elim Soric, was a charismatic man and something of a legacy, as he belonged to a well-known guild of bootleggers in the vast underworld of illegal commerce. When he was 17, Soric's father was killed in an "unfortunate accident", where the young Soric was told a crossbow had accidentally fired off during a dispute over exports with trade partners. These trade partners were known business rivals of his father, and forcibly took over the dead man's share of the market shortly after this- making it clear that the death of Elim Soric was no "accident" at all- but such were the ways that shady businesses operated and expanded themselves. Cheated of his rightful inheritance to the family business by the murder of his father, Soric contemplated to avenge the death. During the night before Soric was about to perform the deed, he overheard that Elim Soric, had been in fact, set-up and murdered by his own fellow guildsmen, along with his trade partners, out of envy for his rising success in exotic weaponry smuggling operations. Agun Soric, distressed by the shock of this news, could no longer bring himself to carry out the murders of his father's killers and feared for his own life. Soon enough, the guild stalked every alley and street in search of the old man's son, declaring a generous bounty on his head. Reluctant to share his father's ill fate, Agun Soric fled the city with the help of a lifelong friend of Elim's, a smuggler and shipmaster named Duston Rams, where he was sailed to the notorious city of Calimport in the cargo hold of a ship belly.


 If there was one thing Soric had not been robbed of inheriting from his father, it was his unquenchable lust for gold. Along with this during the days of his youth, it was Soric's quick mind and physical ability that got him into a local company of mercenaries, called "Straight Silver & Services".
 Using a two-bladed sword - a crude wooden stave with blades fastened to each end, the type of exotic weaponry his father used to deal in- he recklessly dared to do almost anything for the prospect of coin. Soric lived on this way and survived on a sell-sword's wages and occassional gambling bets for most of his adult life. Still bitter about his past and deeply regretful about the loss of his inheritance, Soric developed a steady drinking habit.  Soon, after many public drunken acts and tavern fights, the mercenary company felt that Soric was disgracing their name to clients, and discharged him from their company- despite Soric's violent protests that he could "fight even better when I'm drunk!".



 After losing his job as a mercenary, Agun Soric gambled away all of his earnings in blind misery. His debts owed to dice games and hookjack soon began to stack to great heights and it was only a matter of time before he owed a small fortune to every loan shark in Calimport. Soric became a desperate man, unable to find large amounts of coin needed to repay his debts through any other way than his gambling. He would irrationally make large bets and win it all in one night, only to have greed take hold of his conscience and lose everything during the next. But it was never enough to survive on luck alone, and his bad debts eventually caught up to him. Fat Roj, a sadistic and powerful gang lord, the most dangerous of Soric's debt holders - finally caught up with the rogue ex-mercenary. After being evaded for nearly two years, Fat Roj was furious and slashed a dagger across Soric's left-eye when the debt of twenty-three thousand could not be repaid. Soric was given a week's time to repay the boss, or his life would be taken as payment instead. Soric took this borrowed time to escape and flee the city of Calimport and took refuge in the desolate slum town of Rottport- a place known only not for its poverty, but its rumored curse of witchcraft and black sorcery, for at every full autumn moon, a thick cloud of mists haunted and surrounded its area. Less than two weeks later, it was here that Soric was found by Fat Roj and his lackeys.


Taken to an abandoned harbor to be tortured and executed that night, the legendary "cursed mists" of Rottport swept over Soric, Fat Roj, and his lackeys.. several witnesses and local townsfolk of Rottport still speak of this like a ghost story, as the men were never seen or heard from again..
Title: Post your character bio here
Post by: MalleasNuin on January 08, 2006, 06:52:56 AM
Malleas Nûin
Elf, Aerenal

Malleas Nûin was on a secret mission from the Undying Court in Aerenal as some strange, fog took him by surprise.

Malleas, whose familiy was a member of the Undying Court, is not afraid of death. More so is death to all Aerenal Elves a further step in the Path of Ascension. To become a powerful

undead spirit worthy to be whorshipped and to bath himself in the positive energy of the plane of Irian.

Armed with his bow and his strong believes, he sets out in discovering a way to leave this place of death. But in so doing he cant just leave without proof about its existence and

some lore as to the necromantic powers which lies within its misty borders. His curiosity must be satisfied. Until then, he dares not to leave this plane of dread.
Title: Kai Osprey, Many Titles
Post by: Kaithos on January 09, 2006, 01:19:19 PM
“Land Ho!” The gruff but feminine sailor’s voice boomed just as she extended her telescopic lens to catch sight of Waterdeep. The sailor in the crow’s nest bellowed out a few more commands to her subordinate crewmen down below on the decks.

“Throw that pesky son of shark smoocher over the side lads!” The sailor laughed. “Lets see if he can swim a few hundred meters in chains! Let’s watch the great Osprey fly!” With that they threw the young man overboard. Being bound by chains, the man quickly sank to the bottom. All of the crew members of the pirate ship named “The Bloody Sea Harlot” chuckled gleefully as they watched the remaining bubbles spew up from the water. “

“Well, that’s that boys. Turn about to port, and let’s be outta range of Waterdeep’s ballista. I have no feud with them folks as long as they keep outta me coffers.” With that the captain, Bloody Kirsten Wyrmseeker, ordered her ship back out to sea.

Moments passed, and there was no movement from the bound man beneath the waves. His limp form just bounced along with the currents making his loose fitting clothing mimic the same ebb and flow of the surrounding sea plants. Small air bubbles clung to the sides of his handsome face, and slowly freed themselves to rejoin the air of the surface. Even small fish and denizens of the sea began to swim or crawl towards the man looking for an easy meal. However, the man did not move. It was as if he was dead.

A few more minutes passed, but still the body floated along the bottom with serendipity. It bounced along towards the shore as the tides shifted into high. The moon would be full this night, for the tides were stronger than normal. The waves of the surf were still nearly fifty meters away, but the strength of the undertow was defiantly increasing as it pulled the body several meters toward the shore, and then one or two meters backwards. The body rolled to and fro according to the powers of Uberlee, the goddess of the sea. Then suddenly the body struck one of the many sandbars around the waters of Waterdeep. A flicker of time passed once more, fully three minutes after being plunged into the depths of the sea, when the body was dragged upon the top of the sandbar with only three meters of water separating the abandoned man from the precious air above. The then man sprang into action.

His eye flicked open. The other eye, covered by a patch, could not been seen under the dark cloth that covered it. He surveyed the area by looking upward towards the sunlight. He craned his neck backward to see if the pirate ship was still within his water-blurred sight. All he saw was the water displacement caused by the hull as it made its way back towards sea. With a crooked grin the man; known as Kai Osprey, Many Titles, used his tongue to reach a small pick that he had concealed in his mouth. Once free, he spit it into the water, and deftly caught it with his bound hands by spinning into a complete circle. With the flexibility of an acrobat, he bent backwards enough that his hands could reach his face, where he quickly flipped up his eye patch so that he could get a better view of the lock that secured the chains. With both eyes now in use, Kai Osprey began to work his magic. Within seconds the lock was picked, and the chains had dropped to the bottom of the sandbar with a clanking thud. Slowly he swam to the top of the water, and poked only his mouth above the surface to take a controlled and silent gasp of air. Then he waited. He waited until the ship was far enough away that he could safely make it to shore.

Once the ship was far enough away, Kai Osprey emerged from the water and made a dash towards the shore. It was a long frantic swim, but once at the shoreline he abruptly stopped and reached into one of his many secreted pockets and pulled out a small wooden banded ring. He slipped the ring onto his finger, and fumbled through the arcane gestures and phrases to activate the spell locked within. A tiny puff of smoke whiffed into the salty breeze along with a small beam of energy that rocketed towards the “The Blood Sea Harlot.” The beam of energy bounced off of the rigging, and into the main mast. It then scurried its way up into the crow’s nest to bounce into the protective railing that kept Captain Kirsten Wyrmseeker from bouncing out during rough seas. From out of the railing came a conjured mouth. It grinned at Captain Wyrmseeker, and said the following poem:

“Look back dearest lady

And see what was lost

Your loins will now freeze

Like an old iceberg frost


My sweet sea faring lover

Back on the shore girl

Is the man you tried to murder

Now off to find a brand new whirl


So when you ache for my touch

And know that you will surely swoon

Look back to the shore now lass

And see the great Kai Osprey moon!”

Captain Wyrmseeker quickly pulled out her telescopic lens, and looked back to the shore. Her teeth clinched in a fit of rage at the sight before her. There upon the beach, with his pantaloons down to his knees, stood Kai Osprey slapping his rump with his bare skin exposed. The white grin from his mouth said it all. Kai Osprey was alive and well, and in a jovial mood.

“Damn that Kai Osprey. I will have his head someday.” Captain Wyrmseeker smiled a bit to herself and then closed her telescopic lens once more. “Farewell Osprey. Until we meet again. When next we meet, I may skin that rump of yours and have it turned into a flag.” Captain Wyrmseeker sighed, and turned her focus back out to sea…

The ship was now out of sight, and the wooden banded ring had become a scorched piece of ash. Kai Osprey looked down at it and frowned. It had been a fun tool to use on his enemies… His many enemies, but alas all of it charges were now spent. Then a coy smile came across his face.

“I am in Waterdeep! Rumor has it that there is a fine massage parlor here. Hmmmm…. it may even help me to grieve my most recent loss in love.”  He gave a mock momentary frown. It lasted but a second. Then, with a smile on his face, and a spring in his step Kai Osprey walked into the great city of Waterdeep to begin a new adventure in a new town. He whistled all the way.


Several weeks later, while exploring the depths of a dark forest, Kai Osprey discovered a wall of mist.  Too curious for his own good, he walked towards the mist and parted it with his hands.  After studying the strange mist for all of thirty seconds, he squared his shoulders and boldly walked in as deeply as he could…

He awoke with a throbbing head and a growling stomach. He was nearby some strange camp filled with gypsies that called themselves Vistani…

Now a new adventure begins.


(Feel free to PM me any comments about this tale.  I like constructive critisism.)
Title: Post your character bio here
Post by: Tarth on January 09, 2006, 01:30:51 PM
Tarth De'mealthra,

  Tarth is now nearing three and a half decades,

originally Tarth was the son of a lesser noble in waterdeep, and a paladin of the redknight...but as all those epic tales go, something horrible happened ofcourse.

  Tarth fell from grace, when his daughter was slain he made a deal with Malar god of the beasts. So he became Malar's servant through three wars. and during those wars he met another women, eventually getting over his daughter's death Tarth had a son, Renel Trueblade as he was known.

now tarth could not raise a son in the middle of a war so the child
was taken to  his father's house in waterdeep, and  were through Tarth's foes the house of theTrueblades was destroyed, Tarth barely made it intime to watch the house burn to the ground....and his son being taken away.

    even the darkest hearts can know love and it was through this Tarth travel two years tracking his son, intill the mists took him.


oh did I mention thats just the begining?
Title: Character bio
Post by: jalan on January 11, 2006, 10:41:20 AM
Elizabeth of Somers

When I was 16 the Lord of Somers' Manor saw me working in the field. I was comely, and he thought to make use of me. I was one of his peasants; it was his right. But I resisted. So, to make an example of me to the other girls, he had me tied to a post in the village square. With his newly sharpened dagger he slowly carved this slash on my face.

And then, elsewhere. The pain was incredible, and though I tried not to give him the satisfaction of a scream or tears, I could not stop myself.

Eventually the pain overwhelmed me, and I slumped unconscious. When he was finished, he would not allow me to be tended for a day and a night to be sure the scars would remain regardless of the healing draughts used.

Two years later I hid in the wagons of itinerant traders and so escaped that land. I vowed then that I would learn how to return my suffering a hundredfold, and I would gain my revenge.

That was 10 years ago. I have been on my own in that time. I did what I had to to learn how to move quickly and quietly to get past my foe's guards and how to fight with sword or bow.

Having gained certain skills, I recently returned to the Manor and sought the lord. We fought, and like the bully and coward he is, he ran. I was giving chase when he ran into a sudden mist. As I followed a shadow rose up surprisingly in front of me, and all went dark. When I awoke I was here. Somewhere here is that lord, and I will find him, and I will extract my due. I will find and kill William Somerset.
Title: Post your character bio here
Post by: Ralph_The_Pervert_Moogle on January 11, 2006, 07:30:17 PM
ello mates.. names takerday underbush .. tho i prefer people call me tak...funny story 'ow i got ere ya see i was on... "a "buisness" trip ta lovely town called waterdeep.. perty place mine ye...

anyways .. i spend ah weak there mindin me own and lookin fer ah few coin ere an there ta get me by.. when one day lo' an behold ah see some fella an 'is two big friends ruffin up ahnotha fella in ah alley an takin 'is things..

suffice ta say it annoyed me ah bit..seein as i dont righly baleave in robbin poor folk.. well they left da fella fer dead... i kow 'e was dead cause ah checked....got ah nice ring off 'im to..... wha dont look at me like dat.. feller was dead 'e didn need it no more.. besides... i always get paid for ah job.. an i was bout ta do one on bahalf of the dead fella

anyways as ah was sayin.. fella was dead and the other fellers were leaven.. so i followed um.. figured id find thir lil hide out an steal everythin they own... sort ta like karma ya know..

well afta followin dem fer 5 er 6 hours.. .. well i followed um fer 20 mineutes er so when they went in ah bar an spent most thir money dare.... real swanky place to..... surprised me ah group ah alley muggers would 'ave dis much taste..

well after hours 'o drinkin the fellas left an i followed... when they came cross ah huge house.. now im'a thinkin... if ye drunk .. thats not ah good time ta be robbin houses.. ..not that they were sneakin er anythin.. walked right upta tha gate gurds they did.. tho ta my surprise gate feller let um in..seems dis ally mugger be ah rich one... must just get off on beatin up people.. oi thats ah pisser ah tell ya... so ah got it i n me mind this mate gonna pay fer being a arse


round midnight i leave the temple o' tamera..ya know the good luck goddess..... left da ring i got off da dead fella as trubute.. anyways soon i get ta the house.. its little afta midnight anthe guards are doin ah lousy job.. well.. at wantin ta hurt them any.. they just work fer the arse...

after lookin about ah see ah tree growin cloce ta one of the side walls of the gate round the house.. ah hop skip ana jump later im in da yard an afta ah bit of duckin an hidin im at te back of the house..... lucky me someone left da back window unhitched

makin it inta the house was easy nuff.. findin the mate that mugged the fella might be at tad harder.. once again ma luck holds out seems only ah few guards aree inside the house at night... thir easy nuff ta avoid

after another hour er so of waitin an hidin i make mah way ta the master bed room.. the lock on it is way to easy.. ah drunk dwarf coulda picked it

anyways.. creep open da door .. dis feller as alota paintins...almost all dem bein women in ah state of undress an in various compermisin angles.... across da room layin on is overly stuffed bed wit what looks ta be a sortment of lasses there with im... 2 ..4 ..6.. aye.. three lasses in all er.. what was ah countin? .. er.. the feet.. yeah... 3 pairs of feet..not includin da fella that is..anyways i think ta maself arses like this fella should never av ah life dis good..

but what could ah take ta make him suffer... sure e as riches everywhere. but probly more somewhere else.... i couldent still nuff ta make ah dent in is coin..

hmm.. well eh seems ta love the lasses..... an id 'ate ta see some kid be born ta this arse an grow up jus lik um... well first off best look fer ah way outa ere fast first.. .. once again mah luck old ture an the roof outside tis bedroom window is close ta ah flag pool wavin this fellers standerd. ah unlatch da window fer ah fast excape.. cause i know un gonna need one ere soon..

slowly ah creeps across da room an up on ta da bed...oi... thats squishy.. er um ah mean i accidently nuged one of da lasses she opend er eyes but ah could tell she was still more sleep den anythin.. probly drunk to fer all i know.. lass didnt stay up long.. in bout 4 er 5 seconds lass was back countin sheep... er whatever it was she dose..

well ere on i rather not go inta details bout what append les just say  the fella is short ah stick an berries .. course the screamin woke da lasses.. an half the guards

 fella got up out da bed holdin is bleedin wound an shot me ah evil stare ta wich ah gave ah smile an stated.. "ye thin twice bout robbin people in alleys now ya wangless bastid" and proceded ta jump out da window an down ta the yard.. heh.. funny thin.. all the guards went in da house.. was more er lass i quiet lil walk out da front gates....

cept dats when da other two fellas that was with the wangless wonder when 'e was robbin that other fella showed up..

well they was surprised ta see me  as i was ta see then.. luckly these two were dumb as bricks an as agile  as oxen so evadin them was lil trouble... tho they were persistant chased me all ova da town till i made me excape out da front gate an lost dem in the woods... runnin blindly fer ah hour er so i finaly stoped ta rest.. nex thing ah knowim wakin up ta some gypsies .. well day went by ah found out im not inma home lane no more... hell.. not even on mah home plan

on one hand im scared not knowin where ah  am... on the other hand... da wangless wonder an the bull head boys dont know eaither... mabey i kin lay low ere..im sure ill find mah way home some day while im findin it all that hassle in water deep will be blown over... er.. i hope
Title: Post your character bio here
Post by: Marius_Manners on January 11, 2006, 10:29:59 PM
//Unlike the newspapers, this is not for anyone but me to use IC.

For just over 80 years the Manners' have been a part of Barovia. The first was three generations back. A man from Toril, wise and aging was in his study. He was reading and studying, as was his custom. "A sharp mind is a quick mind, and a quick mind is the kind that strives," Was his motto. For a man of his intelligence, it was not great, but it was good advice, at the least.
His name was Marcus Manners. In his youth he had been quite the dashing young man; Now he was graying, had crows feet on his eyes, yet still held a spark for life that kept his eyes intense and his jaw squared.
He was a teacher by trade, and a student by hobby. As a rule he only taught one person at a time, and he required them to be mature enough to understand the importance of studying.
Now, as he sat in his study, studying as life-long students will, something happened that his studies had never taught him. Dark gray mists enveloped his room. He went for his lantern, but the light did little to help his visibility. He scooped up his large book and stumbled out the door and into the hallway, but they too were full of mist and fog. He ran down the stairs, but the stairs leveled out into a dirt road and not carpet.
For days he wandered the mists until his stomach had given up on growling for food. Then, as magically as they had come, the mists departed, and before him stood a small, quaint town, bordering a large foreboading castle.
He came to live here, and came to call it as the locals did: Barovia.
His clothes were rich and bright, so he began to don modest earth tones. He also fell in love, finally. All his life he had been trying to find love, and it took him getting lost for it to find him. He married a young Barovian woman 30 years younger than him. He was shunned by the villagers, but she didn't mind. She was shunned too, for she was a widow. They made love nightly, their lust for each other never fading for an instant, until the day death seperated them.

Before that happened though, they had a son whom they named Maximus Manners. Marcus taught Max from the day he was born all the things which he had learned in his own studies. An educated child, Max was often held in contempt by the xenophobic villagers of Barovia, yet he contained the same zest that his father did, and so his eyes showed intense and his jaw squared as well. As he grew older he began to teach his father a few things even, and together they wrote these things in the large collection of his fathers lessons, in the large book he'd brought with him through the mists. His father taught him, "There are good people, and bad people. Some people will accept you for the educated man you are, and some will shun you for it. The latter are ignorant, and they may not wish to change that. You can't make them, so move on, and find someone who will accept you." Max did move on, and moved on often. Still, he was stalwart and cheerful, and eventually found a woman who accepted him. He was not nearly as old as his father when he wed, yet was still just as excited about her as his father had always been for his mother. He loved her often, and before long he too had had a child.

Meril Manners was this childs name. The beginning of his childhood was happy, but around the age of eight his grandfather Marcus died at an almost unnaturally old age. One year later his grandmother died as well. It was rumored that she died of a broken heart. He took these deaths hard, and the life faded a bit from his eyes. His jaw slackened. Children made fun of him for his education and proper tongue, and he fell deeper into despair. His father tried to pull him out of it, but death had not yet released its grip on their lives. Merils mother, Max's wife, died young. Max and Meril suffered in the following days, having lost everyone they loved, but each other. Max tried to teach Meril constantly then, as he had the same greed of knowlege that his father did. Meril would have none of it though. He distanced himself from his father, his studies, and gave in to the torments of the neighbor children. He found himself lost in a black sea of sorrow. Misery rained on him like freezing water and chilled him to his bones. He finally took the only stand he knew how, and with sad eyes and an unfirm jaw told his father that he would no longer continue his studies. The legacy was broken. His father cried hard then. As hard as he had at the loss of his parents and his wife. Perhaps harder. Still, he watched over his son with all the love a father is capable of, and gave him ground to walk on. Eventually Meril came to love his father as well, yet still found he resented him. For his studies, for his charm, his wit, and perhaps most of all because he was still alive. He didn't go down with the ship. He took the large book of Marcus Manners when it was his time to carry it on, and locked it away in his room, never to open it again.
Meril wed a Barovian woman as well, and had a son and no daughters, just like his father and grandfather. She was beauitful, and kind, and soft, much like his mother had been. He even thought she resembeled his mother, though he couldn't remember truely what she looked like.
Just like his father and grandfather, they had one child together. A son.

Marius Manners was born the son of Meril Manners, grandson of Max Manners, and great grandson of the wondrous and late Marcus Manners, 7/8th Barovian. He did menial work often, laborous chores, and everything else his father asked him with a hop in his step. He often baled hay, cleaned up after the cows, even had several crushes in his youth. He shared kisses with them often, in his daydreams. His eyes were intense and his chin was squared. The Manners once again had a lust for life. His father never tried to smite it out, though envied it much, as he had with his father. He also would not teach the young Marius, so that burden fell upon his aging grandfather. Max taught Marius everything he could remember from the book, except for the most important of lessons. Those he could not be taught until he was a man. It was a rule passed down much as the legacy had been, from Marcus. No one can learn the most important knowlege possible until they could truely appreciate and understand it. Marius was taught tongues- Many tongues! He was also taught math, anatomy, and even came to his grandfather for advice on girls, from time to time. Marius had an eye for them, and it caused his grandfather to smile, despite the inherant dangers of such a thing.
Sadly the lessons could not carry on. His grandfather Maximus passed away while he was still a teenager. On his deathbed he whispered some secret in Marius' ear. Marius went home, found the locked chest in his fathers room, and cracked it open. He fled his house with the book in hand, leaving his life, his crushes, and his family behind. He would study, he would learn first hand from life experiences, and he would not be weighed down by his fathers hand.

It was time for Marius to become a man.
Title: Post your character bio here
Post by: DarkWyvern on January 15, 2006, 12:40:03 AM
Character name: Idelle
Class: Druid
Deity: Nobanion, King of Beasts
Alignment: NG
Race: Human
Sex: Female
Colour Hair: Deep blonde/gold
Colour Eyes: Deep violet with blue flecks
Colour Skin: Coppery tan
Distinctive characteristics: Tribal tattoo starting from above her left brow, tracing down over her eye and along her neck and shoulder.


Born under the Sign of the Stone
and with New Selûne under the sign of the Eagle

Those born with Selûne under the sign of the Stone are complex, tenacious and fearless. Proud and independent, they have great strength of character and rarely compromise. They thrive on challenge and have an innate belief in their own destiny.

Those with Selûne under the sign of the Eagle are determined, resilient and ambitious. Good organisers, leaders and strategists, they are not deterred by setbacks, believing hard work, patience and persistance will triumph. They are loyal but reserved in showing affection.


Summary:

- Home lies within the jungles of Mhair.
- Protective of those bullied or abused

Personality, issues & mannerisms:

- Straight forward, honest to the core
- Considerate to those less fortunate than her.

Goals & dreams:

- To find her way back to her jungles
- To end the threat of Malar with her pridemates.

Languages:

Common
Druidic
Chultan


History:

The nights were warm in the jungles of Tashalar. Idelle was born, daughter of the high shaman of the Blackmane Tribe. Her tribe, charged with protecting the secrecy of the jungle wemics as well as disposing of the malarite threat.

Idelle even as a child was strong-willed and protective of others. Her best friend a boy two years younger than her, bullied by a druid in training. She stood up for him, and proved her prowess even then. She and Ethan became fast friends, and inseperable in hunts as they grew into adulthood.

She was chosen to follow in her fathers footsteps. With four others, her time to be inducted into the druidic circle had come. Their assignment: To destroy the Malarite pack that was demolishing a pack of direwolves not far from their camp. The four chosen set out on their hunt, and came upon their enemy. Unfortunately they were too late to save the canines, but not too late to decimate their murderers. Screams echoed throughout the jungles that night, but only the blackmane hunters returned unscathed. Idelle was the last to return, a large bundle in her arms. While they did not save the entire pack, they succeeded in their test for she found a hidden pup and took it under her wing as guardian yet again showing compassion and protection for the weak. Justice was set in the name of the great lion king, and that night she was marked with the tribal glyphs to signify her status as a druid.

She and the pup had become close companions, though Idelle never stopped teaching her to hunt on her own. Together she, ethan and the pup sought out their prey, blessed it in Nobanions name and brought it back to provide for their tribe.

However one night, upon their hunt they were ambushed by three malarites. They managed to kill two, the other ran in cowardice. Idelle took after the fiend, fast on his heels with her wolven companion close behind. She could hear Ethan calling to her, but as they entered thick mists his voice was drowned out. She slowed to a walk, squinting to see where the coward had run off to, but then was hit from behind. All went black, but then she woke in a strange world, her young companion nuzzling her cheek trying to wake her. The mists yet again claimed its prize.
Title: Post your character bio here
Post by: Bunar on January 15, 2006, 05:52:19 AM
Bunar comes from the Mithral Halls and is of the Battelhammer clan. His father was one of many blacksmiths there and his mother was a baker but even though his ftaher was a blacksmith Bunar didn't learn the art himself. Inspiered by the tales of Bruenor Battlehammer and his adventures he rather trained combat to himself become as famous as Bruenor.
   With the gole to do such as great deads as Bruenor had done and to perhaps become a king like he became when he took back the Halls Bunar took farewell of the Mithral Halls and joined a caravan heading south.
   Many years passed and Bunar lived on working as a merchaneri for anyone that paid enough. Bunar continued like this with his old dram fadding but a new one growing. His old gole had been replased by earning as much gold as possible, if he couldn't become a king he would atleast be as rich as one.
   There for he took many works that was on the edge to unlegal or sometimes over the edge. Bunar is now 174 years old and has hunted for his dream in 131 of them and he is not closer then he was when he stared when he lost everything to the mist.
   He was on his way to Waterdeep as a guard for a caravan when the mist took him. When the caravan set camp two days from Waterdeep Bunar sneaked away when they all had fallen asleep and he killed the guards that was still up. He had made a deal with some local bandits to help them robbing the caravan for a part of the gold. He never found the bandits though before the mist came.
   Now Bunar is lost here in Ravenloft and the onlything he regrets is that he lost all his gold. There is no point in trying to get back now either. If the bandits had been succesful in his attack all his stuffs would be gone, they were not likely to try and find him an probably didnt care what happened to him. The people on the wagons probably didnt care much either, if they had survived they probably though he was dead and left as soon as they could.

Bunar dosn't like to kill innocent but if the gold is right he will do it even if he will regret it after. The rules Bunar follow is simpel:

1. If the gold is good enough for the work then take it.
2. Finish the work unless it shows that the risks is bigger then expected.
3. Keep your word to the employer and don't turn on him for a better ofer unless he has lied to you about the risks or the context.
4. Try to avoid harming innocent but if they are a risk that you will get discovered kill them.
5. Someone didn't pay you but promisse a part of the treasure you don't need to stay loyal to him until you have the gold in your hands. Likewise if he first pays you first when the work is done.

It's not likely Bunar will risk his life unless he can earn something on it but he still has his old dreaming glowing in the back of his head and if he thinks he can make his name famous on an adventure he will probably join it, but if the risk is to great then you can turn around and run when every you want.

Bunar is mostly driven by greed and would kill a friend if it's enough gold and he havn't been paid by the friend to protect him. If he have to kill a friend he will of course want more gold and if it's a friend he know that can fight it will cost even more.

The Gods are something Bunar tries to keep away from and he dosn't woreship any of them. He don't mind the healing powers of a cleric but he will not take a work from a church that is to attack another Gods church to avoid problems with higer powers.
Title: Post your character bio here
Post by: Gamerofthegame on January 15, 2006, 11:26:05 AM
Myssia Sil Korran,

 In the shining world of Eberron, the contenint of Khorvaire, the country of Zilargo, and the city of Korranberg, was a female gnome named Myssia Sil Korran. She is part of one of the great families of Zilargo, but was on one of the lesser branches of the family. However, still she studied at the great libary and soon enough, was given the ability to become a diplomat of Zilargo, a great honor. But I am getting ahead of myself.

 Well... instead of saying her grand entire life, I'd rather say imporant notes. Around eleven years, she began to pick up the use of a Tamborine, and at 13 years, she found out her first casting, which was a mere light spell, but hey, one of the best spells in the world. Around the age of 19 she was notfied that she had the choice to continue study at a Korranberg colledge, or go to the colledge of Zilargo, which teached people imporant goverment postions. Now, her postion wasn't grand, but it was imporant. It was a diplomat.

 Now, the thing about a diplomat is that around thirty to forty gnomes have the ability to take the potion, but over a span of four years those gnomes are dropped out, and take differnt, less imporant goverment jobs. Mainly because the leaders of Zilargo find that sometimes it hurts a person to much mentaly to have such a knowledgable job suddenly be ripped away and you having nothing to go on very... disturbing.

 It was at her first year when one of the lesser people, one of the ones that probably wouldn't become a Diplomat, hired three thugs, a dwarf, and two gnomes. They abducted Myssia when she was buying things at the market, and taken away to a cave. Eventualy a band of adventurees passed by, only about two days after being abducted, and freed Myssia. They brought her along to a journey to some magical ruins only a few days north, which wasn't that far from Korranberg, so she decided to go.

 The band itself wasn't really imporant to this tale, just a go too thing.

 When the band reached the ruins, they merely walked in to the old building when some sort of cloaked figure attacked. Myssia ran deeper into the ruins to escape, not seeing the figure again. Thats when she tripped over a rock, and fell into a misted over pit.

 Now then, the only reason why she can speak common like other people is because she was given a amulet of tongues, it having a lesser power in the mists, giving it the ability to only speak common of all the lands.

 
 Lately Myssia has begun to think that the mists is the deathly Mournlands, and that the state of Barovia is just a small surviving area left. Magic being feared due to the destruction, and somesort of curse to forget about the destruction itself. Now, she also beleives that she is along the lake of Cyre, around one of the large bays, which might have been blocked off from the rest of the lake in the epicdemic. Which means quite simply...: Mror holds is to the north, or the Talanteen plains are to the east.
Title: Post your character bio here
Post by: Xianio on January 19, 2006, 02:23:14 AM
Name:  Gorgar Rotmonger
Skin Colour:  Black, with slight hints of Green
Race:  Black Orc
Height: 6'6'' with an addition inch per level.  ex: lvl 6 = 7 feet all
Girth:  Very large yet solid dispite the appearence.

Features:  Like all orcs Gorgar has large fangs protruding from his oversized lower jaw.  His skull is sloped downward making his jaw able to open far wider then any human could achieve.  He carries many many scars all over himself.  A fact he wears with pride.

His right eye has a scar overtop of it making it useless.  Both of his eyes however still can grow to be bloodshot should he become enraged.  

Height/Muscle Mass:  Gorgar like any orc continues to grow as he ages.  His body will become top heavy, beginning with massively muscular shoulders and arms.  Followed by his stomach gaining girth.  This size however will not be entirely apparent unless Gorgar should raise to his full height.  His massive muscle weight will force him into a slumped position.  This will force him to be hunched over at nearly all times.  He will begin to appear much like a lumpering ogre.  This will however give Gorgar an appearance of being 6'6'' nearly all the time.  His hunched frame will make his arms seem far longer then they should however.  Once getting much older his arms will seem as if they nearly reach the ground.

Skin and Pain:  Orcs are an interesting species in many respects.  As they age there skin becomes almost scaly and tough.  Much like a natural leather.  This has the side effect of making them able to shrug off many lesser wounds.  Pain for an Orc is not like pain for most.  Orcs feel pain in far lesser degrees then men and a massive amount of damage must be given before an Orc will stop fighting.  Many times blows that would cause a human to pull away will only cause an orc to lash out harder.

Thought Process:  Gorgar isn't stupid persay.  Much like his other Orcs Gorgar is simply very single-minded.  Instead of considering the pros and cons of many issues he will simply "do."  While men might take time for deeper thoughts an orc will simply not bother with such things and focus rather on whatever task he should be focused on at this moment.  (which is often times violence)

Clothing:  
(What Gorgar wears is always similar if not the same.  If he is not wearing such things at any time he either has them on his person or trying to amass items to reach this goal.)

Da Scarer Mask!
-Gorgar wears the skull of the most dangerous creature in the region.  This will often come as a werewolf or perhaps vampire.  The lower jaw of the creature is missing as this allows Gorgar's massive mouth room to move.  The eye holes of the skull will always be enlarged so Gorgar is able to see perfectly.  Attached to the skull are massive horns from creatures nearby.  Always taking the most dangerous creatures horns that he can find.  Hanging from the horns are skulls from lesser creatures that he has killed.  These are most often human or dwarf skulls.  On rare occasions Gorgar will take the time to light candles inside these skulls making them glow an eerie orange as they dangle from the side of his helm.

Tuff Armar
-  Gorgar's armour is full of spikes and dangerous edges.  It is ill-maintained and often broken in many areas.  The massive size of his arms does not allow for protection along his biceps.  The plating around his forarms are often made-up of two or more armbands which have been placed there and tied together using chain or string of some sort.  Around his waist is a massive belt which holds skulls and fangs from recent and old kills made by Gorgar.  These will often be tied there by the previous owners of the heads hair.  His gauntlets have massive spikes over each knuckle which help for extremely powerful punches should his choppa be unavaliable.  Finally Gorgar wears around his shoulders the skin from a massive beast.  Gorgar's main goal is that of the skin of a werewolf lord's skin around his shoulders.

Gorgar's Lumpin' Choppa of Choppain'
- Gorgar's Lumpin' Choppa of Choppain' isn't exactly any one weapon persay.  This name is however always given to the biggest and scariest axe in Gorgar's arsenal.  This axe is always massive in comparison to most.  Gorgar just as often weilds it in one hand as he does in two using his open hand for grabbing his foe to make sure they don't move as his choppa comes streaking for there head.  Tied to the bottem of his axe are more skulls of recently dead victims of his axe.


(Final note:  Should there be any wonder as to what Gorgar looks like when fully equiped and properly aged (approx lvl 12-14) refer to the sig)
Title: Post your character bio here
Post by: Lyrithean on January 23, 2006, 08:04:52 PM
Name: Neset Dana
Race: Elf

Hair Color: Currently Blond

[Nesets Past]
The oldest of two siblings, Neset and his brother Lyrithean, grew up on the island of Evermeet listening to their fathers tales of myths and legends from the elven peoples past. And although both were born with the gift to be bards they enlisted with the the city militia for the possibility of adventure. Lyrithean chose to be stationed outside the city in one of the outlying guard posts, Neset chose the City Guard and eventually moved up to become one of the guards stationed to protect the Royal family. Their homelife was jovial and happy and both are benevolent pranksters, although Neset has become the more practical and serious of the two thanks to the time he has spent as a Royal Guard. Since his childhood Neset has been plagued with dreams of mists and foul creatures, and he always believed that these dreams were caused by his fathers stories, however as he spends more time in Ravenloft he is beginning to wonder if they weren't premonitions of his future.

[How he came to Ravenloft]
Nesets entry into Ravenloft isn't glorious or something of legends and tales. It begins simply enough with him returning to his family for a night during a holiday. He remembers going home and staying at his families residence just outside the city, he remembers resting while waiting for his brothers arrival. He also remembers being stirred from his rest by his mother when his brother had not arrived as expected and going out onto the road through the forests to one of the outer guardposts near the city. On the road walking to meet his brother is when the mists took him, quickly enshrouding and blinding him to his surroundings, he tried in vain to find the road again but eventually decided to sit and wait out the fog next to a tree and there dozed off to awaken outside the Vistani camp.

[Neset Present]
Due to his dreams Neset often appears to be unfazed by the horrible things he sees in Ravenloft. In all actuallity Neset is still unsure as to weather he is awake or still dreaming caught in some horrible nightmare from which he cannot wake. He thinks he is still trapped in a dream brought on by his wandering through the mists in the forests surrounding his home. He hopes that in reality he is still resting with his back against a tree no more then an hours walk from home. His belief that this stay in Ravenloft is all just a dream makes him almost fearless, except when he feels that the dream is about to get worse. However Nesets biggest fear inside this dreamworld is that he may one day lose control of his dream self altogether and at times of great stress he starts to lose control of the discipline and composure he learned as a Royal guard. And sometimes he feels his sanity start to slip away, as the part of him that knows that this all isn't a dream starts to surface.

[Nesets Future]
Neset may come to realize that his stay in Ravenloft isn't a dream, that his dreams through childhood were actually of Ravenloft. What that will do to his sanity no one knows. Or he may continue to believe that he's trapped inside a dream and go mad trying to find ways to wake himself up. But for now Neset is willing to play along with the dream, believing that dreams are the inner selfs way of communicating with the outer self and he needs to let the dream play itself out before he can wake up.
Title: Post your character bio here
Post by: TCraig on February 14, 2006, 04:17:44 PM
Perin Asher

In the backwoods town of Waterhole there lived a group of folk predominately of Halfling descent.  Waterhole was a one-pony town with not much to show unless you counted the bountiful supply of mud that passed for a main street as something interesting.  The population numbered roughly 240 halflings, one grumpy and ancient gnome and one poor, downtrodden half-orc.  The gnome served as the little hamlet’s doctor, blacksmith, leatherworker and butcher (hence the foul mood).  The half-orc, or Hargor as he was called, aided the halflings in any task that required more strength or height than what their diminutive size could muster in return for food and shelter.

Time came and went without much change in Waterhole.  They farmed the many kinds of tapers that they sold to passing merchant caravans (elves for the most part, some humans).  There were barn dances and feasts, and most of the town’s children spent at least one day a week in school.

Keeping the law in this sleepy town was a particularly stout halfling with a head of the most out of control orangish-red hair you’ve ever seen.  It curled and twisted in such a way that his head looked to be alight with fire.  His sideburns grew so long that they could almost be tied beneath his chin.  Paddy Asher was his name, and with his wife Pamela (also with red hair, albeit more in control) they bore a son, Perin.  The poor boy was born with a face that only a mother could love, and love him she did.  What Perin lacked in looks he made up for in common sense and book learning.  Somewhere around the time the boy was born, his father got him a shaggy mutt of a puppy, that they named Rufus.  Perin was lavished with all the attention his mother could give, right up until his younger sister Peri was born.  Pamela made sure that Perin learned responsibility by letting him take care of his sister on many occasions, and Paddy hoped to make sure Perin followed in his footsteps as a lawman.  Sure, there wasn’t any law to keep, but Paddy insisted that someday there might be, and it wasn’t going to be the Asher family that backed out on it’s word when the time came, for he was paid well enough for not a lot of work.

Paddy and his son tended to broken fences outside of town, saw to problems with wolves killing livestock at night and all the other tasks that couldn’t be taken up by the hard headed but kindhearted farmers.  Perin learned to shoot a bow at an early age and the gnome who tended to Perin and Paddy’s equipment was always willing to let the boy sneak out and test his latest inventions.

Things moved along like this for quite some time, and Perin was getting to be just old enough to see to some of his Father’s business alone (although trailed by his now elderly dog Rufus in tow) when things changed.  The moon that the halflings used to gauge the growing seasons and festival times became a thing of dread, for it brought with it a creeping mist that bore with it foul abominations.  Human sized footprints were found outside the pens at night instead of wolves when livestock were killed or missing.  Many times, the footprints were hard to make out, as the rustler’s feet seemed to be dragging rather than walking.  

It wasn’t long before the first of the walking dead were sighted in Waterhole.  The scared villagers were not willing to take matters into their own hands, and so it became Paddy and Perin’s duty to rid the town of the beasts.

The rotting carcasses of long dead humans somehow brought back.  Father and son hunted them day and night, and Pamela fretted over the health of her son and husband.  Keeping the household running in their absence sometimes meant leaving young Peri alone, or in the hands of the neighbors, which worried Pamela due to the walking dead attacks.  One night when it became obvious that the attacks were becoming regular, Pamela took aside her son and timidly told her of her wishes.  She told him of how much she loved him, how proud of him she was, and what a handsome lad he was becoming (a notion which the village girls didn’t seem to agree with, not that Perin had had the time with all the undead hunting).  The thing that made him the most uncomfortable however, was when she told her son that if something should happen to her and her husband that he should take his sister and hide in the pantry.  Pamela showed Perin a kitchen knife she had hidden…for the express purpose of taking his baby sister’s life so that she could not be taken by the undead.  Shocked at his mother’s fear, Perin vowed to not let it be so.

Father and son redoubled their efforts, searching the countryside to find the place the undead came from, but it was to no avail.  Returning from searching a nearby cave, Paddy and Perin arrived back in Waterhole to find that the farmers had finally been roused to action.  When faced with trouble, halflings have been known to show levels of bravery that larger folk find astonishing, and so it was that the town took up hatchets, pitchforks and other farm implements to stave off the largest attack the town had seen so far.

Brave or no, these halflings were not fighters, and Perin and Paddy knew something had to be done quickly.  Taking a pull from his hip flask of whiskey, Paddy wiped his lips and passed the flask to his son, who had never touched alcohol before.  Perin stowed the flask, still thinking of what his mother would say if she knew he was drinking.  Paddy called for all the farmers to retreat to the town hall, and they did easily enough.  Using the bodies of the already slain, Paddy formed a trail to the largest barn in town, Perin grimacing all the while, never having seen one of his kinsfolk dead.  Stopping every once in a while to take a shot with their bows, the Ashers led the zombies into the barn.

Scrambling to the hayloft, Paddy pushed his son out the window and yelled for him to close the barn doors.  Without realizing what his father intended to do, Perin complied.  The last thing he saw of his father was a wink before he touched a torch to the hay and burned all the zombies to the ground with him, laughing all the while.

In his fright and anger, Perin forgot the words of his Mother’s wishes and took the fight to the few straggling undead.  With bow and hatchet he drove them into the wilderness until he could find no more to cut down.  The undead paid for their intrusion, though how much they understood this can never be known

When he could find no more to hunt and he managed to calm slightly, the creeping mist enveloped him despite the moon being less than half full.  Trying to find his way back to Waterhole, worried to death about his Mother and Sister, Perin walked for what seemed like days.  Just when he thought he recognized some landmark to find his way home, he found himself lost once more.

Perin Asher walked and walked until he thought he saw a clearing in the mist up ahead.  He started hearing drums and faint pipe music.  Emerging from the mist, he found himself in a Vistani camp outside the town of Vallaki in the country of Barovia…
Title: Kitian Figleaf Notteel
Post by: Chaote on March 03, 2006, 04:04:32 AM
Kit is an Anchorite of the Church of Pure Hearts in Mordentshire.

(http://img157.imageshack.us/img157/3892/kitsm1hm.jpg) (http://imageshack.us)

Kit is a paladin of Ezra.  Indeed she has dreams about the goddess often and feels as though Ezra speaks to her through portents and visions.

Kit's heart is good, and she feels that if everyone would accept Ezra as the Benevolent goddess of all creation, then much ill in the world would be vanquished.

This is her life's work then.  To spread the faith of Ezra like flames consuming the dead wood of despair and sorrow, and thus bring renewal to a dark age.
Title: Healer Bearlike
Post by: WildPirate on May 11, 2006, 04:22:49 PM


 Greetings fellow gamers.

   The lands of Ravenloft are secretive at best ...
I would ask what I post not to be used IC, please and thank you.

    Name: Healer Bearlike Age:not telling ;)  Height:5'7
    Weight: 165 Hair color:black  Eyes:Hazel Sex:Male
     Profesion: Peace Keeper from the lands of Denyen
     Home World: Denyen "created world, low magic setting*
      high bio diversity
     Birth Place: The Cradle of the Elders Forests
     Family Caste: Artists and Labourers
     Profesional History: Militia in youth, Peace keeper in adulthood
      last of the order "or is he"
     Marital Status: Widowed
     Traits: introverted, thoughtful, reflective, cautious, Idealist, *pre
      ravenloft*
      Race: Moon Elf similar to D&D version slightly heavier and taller
       life span on average 230 pre cleansing 75 post cleansing
      Racial Predjudice: None pre cleansing humans post cleansing
      Magic Affinity: Very High   Phobias: deep water, mental disease,
       soul stealers from the ashen forests on his homeworld,
      Phobias after Ravenloft: Crowds, Amnesia, *stutters now* has since been cured.. through meeting a tree father, although may lapse.
     
         Healer Bearlike was born in the Twilight Stars Woods within
            the Cradle of the Elders Republic Year:8567 PC "Post Cleansing" The year of the Cleansing followed his birth. He joined the milita to defend his homeland in AC 38 *AC after cleansing*

    Healer was born to a Labourer named Wagoneer Bearlike and his elven life mate Katalana Green Leaf a diviner of the stars.
    Healer's mother had the gift of sight and it had been pased through the Green Leaf line since the first coming of the Moon Elves to the lands of Denyen. Healer's grandmother had the sight and the gift of magic.
   The gift of magic in Denyen comes at a heavy price.. insanity at worst and exculsion at best.
   Healer embraced his gifts of magic even though there was a stigmata attached to it. His parents seperated which was uncommon among the moon elves of the twilight forests.
  He joined the local miltia at young age never seeing action as the races all lived in relative peace. He learned to use the bow and blade from his teachers. Healer was arrogant of his natural born talent and was noted by his battle brothers and sisters.
  He left the milita before long and wandered the twilight forests never having a home. He met his life mate in the milita and would soon marry he after only ten years of courtship.
  The order of peacekeeper approached Healer for his membership.
 The order was looked upon as meddlers in the lands affairs but more often then not were needed to keep peace along the borders. The order was the only sanctioned magic using military force in all the lands of Denyen. The rulers of all lands used them in thier own way, and knew the time would pass when even the order of peacekeepers would fade from the lands as magic was slowly ebbing away...
 Until....
 
       
 
   
      [/img]
Title: Post your character bio here
Post by: Rill on June 27, 2006, 01:28:17 AM
Character: Rill Tinkle


Rill dabbles in this and that. He's very easily influenced,and, although not impatient, very quick to move on to the next fad or whim. Before he came to Ravenloft, he'd (after spending most his years in various escapades and adventures) stumbled upon a small village, won a wager in a bar and gotten himself a farm. The mists took him while he was working on the farm, trying to get rid of a very resilient rock; and he was slumped into Ravenloft. Cold, but eager to move on to his next adventure.

"Wosser skelter? Man's gotn't skin, see?"
He's not an idiot.
"Wossis? S'rock, s'is."
He just finds it easier to take things as they progress.
Title: Akar Monsain
Post by: Vigalance on July 04, 2006, 09:56:50 AM
Akar Monsain is a Paladin of The Overseer.  He was born in the city of Darkonian of Matira Bay.  He came to Valkari to find out what happened to the Monistary to find out that it was defiled.  He is a noble Paladin that tries to bring hope and divine justice to a land that is unfair.  Let me know if that is okay to play this guy.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Iconoclast on October 25, 2006, 01:47:58 PM
Character:  Marku Vintila
Race: Human
Ethnicity: Barovian
Origins: Kreszk
Faction: Vallaki Guard

Backstory: Marku Vintila, son of Ilias Vintila, hails from a proud Barovian merchant family.  As his father and ancestors before him, Marku has left his family home in Kreszk to offer his sword, skills, and services to the city of Vallaki.  The Vintila are a proud family; a family that has, despite hard times, experienced more than their fare share of economic success (which has ruffled the feathers of some of the local nobility as well as less fortunate peasants.)  It is the Vintila aspiration, that through consistent service and demonstrations of loyalty to the Count and Barovia, that their family will continue to flourish economically as well as bring more honor to the family name.  They also entertain, privately amongst themselves, the hopes that one day their family will be granted the status of nobility. 

Recent Events:  Trade routes have become unreliable and unsafe over the past few years due to an increased level of bandit and rebel activities.  Because of this, the Vintila sons have been raised within a bolstering militaristic structure by their father and uncles.  Marku has been educated not only in the arts of war, but has received a rounded education that involved becoming proficient in the language arts, ethnic dances, and the basic etiquette shared among the noble class (such as which fork to use for salad and which for the main coarse).  Aside from somewhat of an exceptional childhood, Marku is very much an embodiment of Barovian values and conflict in these times.  Ethnic pride, as the conflict between Barovians and Gundarakites mounts, continues to harden social boundaries among ethnic groups.  It has become a deep insult within Barovian society to even suspect that a Barovian is an associate with a Gundarakite.  Some Barovians argue that the Gundarakite should be expunged from Barovia all together, while others make a counter argument that the Gundarakites would only react by becoming more organized, thus becoming an event greater threat.  Marku contemplates with himself as to what can be done to solve these “problems.” Gundarakites could be good for business in some respects, but with the rebels, the relationship has become strained to put it lightly. 

Marku travels to Vallaki determined to do his duty towards restoring and enforcing the Count’s Laws, believing that only with a firm hand, consistent execution of the law, and undying loyalty can Barovia be restored to its previous days of greatness and glory. 

Marku’s arrival to Vallaki was full of surprises.  To begin with, he was overwhelmed by a strong presence of outlanders who were found “loitering” by night at the western outskirts.  His Pack Ox had been tampered with by a rogue while tied up at the Citadel of all places; such audacity is enough to make a man’s hair grey prematurely.  And he is placed under the command of a man who is not of Barovian decent.  It becomes increasingly clear to him, that it should be every Barovian man’s destiny to stand tall in times as dire as these. 
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Isu on October 26, 2006, 07:35:21 AM
Character:  Isu Sethotep
Race: Yuan Ti
Class: Priest
Ethnicity: Akiri
Origins: Muhar
Sex: female

Background:
A detailed story can be found here: http://www.nwnravenloft.com/forum/index.php?topic=4486.0
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Hieronim on December 10, 2006, 09:29:12 PM
Character name: Bialy
Subrace: Drow Elf
Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Character Background: Bialy, like his brother Tomasz, grew up within the Underdark beneath Shadowdale. Most of his life was spent as a personal slave/drown to Mistress Devona, a powerful wizard with a gift of transportation spells. Bialy was treated with the same respect all male Drow were and was given just enough knowledge in the arcane arts to be of use to his mistress. One day a band of adventures, comprised mostly of high elves, raid the Underdark killing Devona brutally. Bialy was separated from his brother in the battle and with a bit of luck was one of the few surviving members of his family. When Tomasz’s body was not found the family appointed Bialy to go fetch his brother in Shadowdale.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Ripkill on January 26, 2007, 04:09:39 AM
Character Name: Malakye
Human in all repects other than lifespan
Height: 5' 10" Weight: 165ish Age: 30-35 (apparent)/87 (actual)
Raven Black Hair, unkept and unshaven for over a month
Ice blue eyes that glance about with a hint of mallice
Homeland: The Orcish Empire of the Pomarj of Oerth, a land controlled and ran by humanoids, specifically the Orcish Empire

Malakye arrived from the mists with no memory of his personal past, though he could tell you everything you would want to know about where he's from...  just nothing he actually did.  He does seem to know a few languages, such as Elvish and Orcish, and his name (well, he thinks its his name, at least).  He is usually accompanied by a "Trained Hunting Cat" that aparently came through the mists with him and follows his every command (verbal, somatic, even expressions).

To most locals, he is just an Outlander hunter that stays on the fringe of civilization with his cat, his past more of a mystery to them than it is to himself.  His role in his homeland, though unknown to him at present, had earned him his place in this cursed realm.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: GeordieSte on January 29, 2007, 06:15:06 AM
Davi awoke from his nightmare with a shout.  He sat upright and grabbed the hilt of his dwavern crafted longsword. His heart was pounding within his chest, a bead of sweat trickled down from his forehead. He tried to capture every detail of his dream to memory, before they slipped away into nothingness.  Sorrow weighed him back down to slump into his bed once more.

The faces of his wife and daughter came to him in his dreams..

Davi closed his eyes and began to sob, for he had finally found the truth about those years missing from his memory since the mist claimed him...

Davi and his wife lived in the slums, they needed coin for they were expecting their firstborn.  Kenrath was offered a job working as a bodyguard to some merchant.  Davi had only previously worked for local thugs, earning hardly enough to feed him and his wife. The offer of enough gold to pay for food and a cleaner home was enough to persuade Davi.  For weeks Davi travelled with the merchant, when one day a hooded figure ambushed them as they travelled back to waterdeep. Davi was caught unawares and he was knocked from his steed, the hooded figure leaped swiftly from Davi then to the merchant. The assassin blades drawn high ready to strike. A sudden bright light blinded Davi as he rose from the ambush, the smell of burning flesh instantly filled the air. Sight regained Kenrath could see the burning corpse of the would be assassin lying in a heap on the floor. The merchant was infact a master of the arcane arts and sought a bodyguard to protect him from such assaults. The magic user claimed that if he told anyone of this he would destroy him, or if he served him he would be paid well.  Kenrath took the job and served him well from many years, during this time Davi had moved away from waterdeep into farmlands in the north with his loving wife and beautiful daughter..

Davi lets out a sigh as he lays in his bed "ah the good days that farmhouse"....

1st attempt at anything like this some feedback would be nice
Title: Johan Miklos
Post by: Dakota Strider on April 30, 2007, 08:52:07 PM
Johan Miklos
Male Barovian
early 20's 6'2 195 pounds
light brown hair, shoulder length

The Miklos family lived in Vallaki, his father being a successful merchant that dealt in rarities that were gathered from across the lands. As is normal, there were certain "fees" to be paid besides taxes, such as "insurance" to keep damage from happening to his buildings, and "tips" to the guards to ensure his trade caravans were not unduly harassed when entering or leaving the city. However at about the time Johan was age 15, the fees suddenly started to increase at an alarming rate, and it was becoming unprofitable to keep paying them. His father, being a successful merchant, had some influence with local government officials and attempted to use it to lessen the pressure he was feeling. This seemed to backfire, as the threats turned to attacks, and some of his loyal guards and servants started to be killed. Out on the roads, his merchant wagons were attacked and destroyed. These attacks did not appear to be the work of common thugs, as the walls and locks of their estate were easily breached, and the murders were extremely brutal. "Security experts" that were consulted, suggested that some type of undead monster had been able to gain access to their home, and the attacks on the road were definitely the work of werebeasts. Johan's father saw that these attacks would not end, until he was completely ruined or worse, so quickly sold all his assets in Vallaki, for whatever money he could gain, and took his family and fled Barovia.

Eventually, they ended up in Nova Vaasa to the east of Barovia, where they purchased a small vineyard, and a modest home. Johan, who had mostly stayed in Vallaki up to that point, took to exploring the countryside of his new home, and developed some skill as a hunter. Always on his mind, was the injustice his family had suffered from in Vallaki, and how his father had looked out for the welfare of his family and fled with them, rather then try to maintain his plush life as a merchant. While many of the people in his new home, were about as suspicious and superstitious as those of his homeland, he came to see that non-Barovians were not all evil and monsters.  It gave him a new perspective in regards to outsiders, as that is how is family was now considered, although not persecuted nearly as badly as the ones in Barovia. 

As fate would have it, or perhaps by a twisted plan of the Darklords, Johan was hunting one evening after his 20th birthday, and while following the trail of a boar he had wounded, entered what he thought was some ground fog in a low lying area.  Of course it was the Mist, and after days of trying to find his way out, exited it near Vallaki.  Finding he is trapped, and unable to return to his family, he has decided that he would do his best to right the wrongs that had chased his family from their home.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Taty on May 01, 2007, 07:12:29 PM
Tatyana was born the daughter of Ivan Markov, a master harp maker with a small workshop in Vallaki. Ivan, being skilled and successful was not able to keep up with the demand for his harps. Thus Tatyana was raised never wanting for anything and surrounded by music, things she came to value and enjoy.
   Tatyana's mother, a meek but pretty woman named Sonia lived in fear of her husbands harsh temper and violent ways. She lived as little more than a servant, and this is how Tatyana would come to see her also.
    Tatyana was always an unusual girl, being born with blond hair and ice blue eyes that made her seem angelic. It became apparent she was not only a beautiful child, but also a clever one that displayed great talent for the arts, particularly in singing and the harp. She soon became involved in her fathers business, though unusual, he found it difficult to resist her when she really wanted something. Markov found that Tatyana was selling his harps for far more, and obtaining his supplies for far less than before.
    Her only trouble was her inability to keep pets, it seemed as though she was cursed, they always disappeared or ran away, the few that were found had been horribly mutilated. No one ever suspected her.
    At the age of 13 the men around her and boys her age were becoming too interested in his daughter, as far as Ivan was concerned. He decided it would be best if she were sent away to gain some education, as was in vogue with some of the nobles. He could have her refined, and find her an ambitious match , Kartakass was the perfect place for her to learn and make connections. For 5 years she lived there studying many things, she thrived and blossomed. Her performing skilled became refined and matured as did her appearance. Tatyana came to learn she had power over men and even some women, in fact she revelled in it. Though disciplined in her interests, she detested doing menial things and found she always had a willing male around to her aid her. She also sensed that this was her great advantage in life, and if used properly with her other gifts, could take her to undreamed heights of wealth and power.
    While she was away her father began to make poor investments, putting money in disastrous mining operations.He spent lavishly trying to fit in with the higher classes, seeing that he had the best of everything. Soon he was spending too much and had to devise a means to keep his family in luxury. He concluded he would have to travel to other lands and set up a way of selling his harps there for far greater prices. Tatyana had already assured that people in Kartakass were aware of his fine work, so he decided he would begin there.
   It was while on his way to Kartakass that the dreadful act happened that changed Ivan forever and in turn Tatyana's life, he was attacked by werewolves. The caravan he travelled with was strong in number but were caught off guard buy the attack of the pack that night. Ivan struggled with one while the others around him were being butchered, the werewolf bit off his right hand but Ivan managed to flee into the night escaping, collapsing near a small farm. He was never the same man after that. The farmers that found him were able to get him well enough for him to return to Valliki, but he would no longer be able make his beloved harps and he soon turned to gambling and drinking.
    Soon money ran out, Tatyana was called home while they sold their home and moved into the workshop.Tatyana returned home very angry,she did not like the state of affairs and immediately took charge, her shattered father and mousy mother easily dominated. She insisted he give up drink, for she knew she would need him for a short time longer, until married at least. Tatyana then reacquainted herself with her home to see what opportunities existed for her family. She saw that it would take time for her to get into good society, she knew a few from her school days but her father had been an embarrassment that would need restored credibility, and then there was the matter of her dowry.The Outlanders were a growing resource to harvest, they were so great in number and simple of mind, she was certain she could use them. Tatyana informed her father that he would be opening his workshop and set about learning the tanning trade. She would supply him with furs which he would treat, and they would sell to tailors coatmakers and armourers. Tatyana has since begun to build a network of human Outlander fur trappers to supply her with materials. She has also began to study their society and numbers to see what else might be gained from them, for it was well known that these people were unearthing treasures with fantastic items and untold wealth. Tatyana sees the potential in that.....
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Elo-EF on June 25, 2007, 09:11:02 PM
Mr. Edward Grey of Mordent

Edward grew up, believing himself to be an orphan, in an children's home in Mordentshire. As far back as he can remember, he was brought once a year into a private room where an elderly woman would inspect his health, drill him on his learning and castrate him about his failures as reported by the orphanage administrators. When he was old enough, he was sent to Dementlieu to attend a wealthy boarding school where he was surprised to find the spectacle repeated. His only form of escapism from his institutionalised life was reading the fantastic tales of Rudolf Van Richten, fighting against unspeakable horrors and 'shining the light of knowledge' on subjects previously relegated to superstition and folktales. In his teenage years, on one of these visits he spied on the old woman conversing with the headmaster, learning that he was the bastard son of nobility, and the old woman was the governess of his parents legitimate children. He fled the school and travelled back to Mordentshire on his own. After months of effort he managed to find his family, minor nobility, his mother a teacher and his father an advocate for the local courts. He also learned he had several siblings to the same parents, all legitimate. On discovering this he travelled back to Dementlieu and submitted himself to the school's discipline and eventually proved himself the stellar, if not impulsive, student, his months on the streets of Dementlieu and Mordentshire becoming a blight on an otherwise fantastic academic record. His hope once was that by proving himself a cultured and educated individual, every part the noble savant he would have been had he been born in wed lock, that his family might accept him

Though his passage to university would likely have been assured, Edward was able to earn free scholarship by his academic merits. He studied natural sciences as well as taking an interest in the study of occult practices, inspired by his childhood hero. He adapted less well to University life than that of the institutions, spurred on by both the relative freedom he was now given, and a dislike for the rote learning practised at the university. Though he was an able student, after less than a full year of constant study he began to prove uncooperative with his teachers and prone to ignoring lectures to follow his own intellectual interests. He became fascinated with the magical performances of Illusionists on the streets of Dementlieu and began to teach himself the art almost to the exclusion of his other studies. When a favoured lecturer from the University of Il Aluk offered him a position studying occult arts in Darkon he was quick to abandon his scholarship in Dementlieu and travel with him to the university in Darkon. There, he finally believed he had found a home for himself, even going as far as to believe he had found proof that his family had originated in that great foreign land. For several years he dedicated himself to study, but once more grew frustrated with the pace of his learning, being mostly theoretical in nature and not at all what he was expecting. When in a heated argument with his mentor, he was told that he lacked the personality to become a practising mage and was destined to be a scribe for the rest of his life, he left in anger. On leaving Darkon he suddenly dismissed the belief of his Darkonese ancestry as a foolish lapse of judgement and headed back his old University. Once more he prostrated himself before a figure of authority and was allowed back into the University, though he was required to start his course of study again from the beginning. A week later Il Aluk was claimed in the Requiem.

Four years into his course of study, with only a year left, he quit. Again. Heartbroken but unable to tolerate the grating pace and discipline of learning by rote, in abandoning his degree he abandoned any hope of proving himself to his family and spent the next several years travelling about the northern core never able to set down roots in any country he travelled to. He once again found himself in Darkon, straying about villages close to the blighted Necropolis he used to call home. He grew slowly jaded by the frequent night time assaults of the undead on the wooden palisades of the small villages he stayed in, but what pushed him over the edge, into leaving Darkon once more was the growing sense again, that he did belong there. That it was his home, he rebelled against the thought of finding a place in life so easily. Thinking that he might once more travel to Mordent, knowing the path through Lamordia mid winter was mad, yet fearing Falkovnia even more, he paid a Vistani guide to take him through the mists as close to Mordent as they were able. He lost his guide however, or was abandoned, and wondered the mists for what felt like weeks. Tired and weary, he emerged in Barovia. Resigned to wait out the winter till the roads are open once more he hopes to shed some light on the superstitions that plague Barovia in the mean time.
Title: Mileena Soto of the Order of Light
Post by: cptpatriot on July 30, 2007, 05:55:53 AM
Mileena Soto was left at the Order of Light as a child. Being in the Order of Light was a great honor among those who entered. The Order of Light were among those who participated in the Great Tournament. The tournament was established to settle disputes between the Five Kingdoms but over the last thousand years, there was a lasting peace and the Tournament became more tradition than dispute resolution.  As the time to the tournament drew to a close, disaster struck.

A demonic invasion of an unprecedented scale occurred, overpowering the small militia groups towns and cities had to protect themselves from monstrous creatures. With no organized military available to fight off the hordes, they had no choice but call on the tournament fighters.  There had been no open warfare since the establishment of the Tournament but the monks learned and adapted.

Mileena was a relative novice at the Order of Light Monastery, not expecting to be thrown in the middle of open warfare but she was determined not to lose her home to the denizens of darkness.

Over the next two years, they fought the demonic hordlings until a betrayal crippled the monks ability to deal with the horde and they lost all the ground they gained. The monks fought harder than they ever fought before but in the end, they were routed. Kona, Mileena's mentor and lover, sent Mileena out into the night. Mileena would have fought by his side but his love for her meant sacrificing himself to save her.

So, she ran, ran into the fog-like mists, to hide in but what happened to her was beyond anything she expected...
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Annabelle Lee on August 17, 2007, 12:12:29 AM
Narawen E'liseth

Narawen was born in the city of Waterdeep, of the land of Faerun.  She and her twin sister, Griewen, were orphaned at a young age and spent considerable time (by human measure, at least) in one of the orphanages of the city.  They struck out on their own when they were around ninety five, doing whatever they could to survive.  While Griewen was more of a "tough", Narawen was far more subtle about "acquiring" what they needed to survive (money,food, etc.).

While they were a good team, eventually, they parted ways.  Griewen went north to work as a mercenary, while Narawen stayed behind, having found employment with a slightly shady (but powerful) merchant lord.  She never did anything TOO foul, but she was good at her job and rather well set for life.  Until her last assignment.

She'd been sent to "catalogue" the art collection of a nobleman her employer was acquainted with (while he was not at home, of course, as not to slow her down).  Everything was going fine, until she made a false move and was chased by some guards into the basement.  Nothing could have prepared her for the scene that awaited down there, in the bowels of the manor...

...and among the gore and viscera of the dungeon, so well hidden by the opulence above, she came across a curious mirror.  It reflected nothing, but shone as a pane of dull grey glass.  As she was examining it, she felt a blow to the back of her skull.  She fell against the mirror, then through it, then everything went white.  When she awoke, she was lying in the grass, some feet from a small camp of wagons.

A month later, she is still getting used to the wonders and horrors of her new land.  She's learned to be even more careful in the night than she once was, and she's learned that the worst of the world can bring out the best in people.  She is no longer sure she wishes to return "home".

Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Annabelle Lee on August 17, 2007, 12:44:30 AM
Theresa Boria

Theresa was born in Barovia, to Grisella Boria of the Vistani.  She has happy memories of her mother, and her Grandmother, Sasha.  She has never known her father, and no one in the tribe (including her Mother and Grandmother) would ever speak of him. When she was six years old, her mother packed her things and sent her, without warning, to Dementlieu to a boarding school.  All she would say is,"It is so you can have a better life, Theresa.  Ask no questions, and do your best. I will always love you."

She was a mediocre student (around the middle of the class), and never quite "fit in" with the other girls, many of them being from wealthy merchant or lesser noble families.  She spent most of her time reading.  While she loved books in general, volumes of folklore and mysticism were her favorite. Eventually, she was allowed to be an assistant librarian for extra credit, and came to know the library staff on a first-name basis. All the while she was there, though, she could never wrest from the schoolmasters information about how to contact her family or who was funding her education.

When the Head Librarian, whom she had come to regard as a father figure, passed away, Theresa sank into a deep depression.  For months, she wore all black and spoke to very few.  She even started to see and hear strange things sometimes, which disturbed her greatly.  At the height of her despair, she prayed to anything that would listen to bring her a friend, a companion, so she would no longer feel such bitter loneliness.  The next morning, she felt compelled to go with the rest of the girls to their monthly trip into town to spend their allowances (which she often skipped in favor of the library).  It was then she came upon a merchant selling animals, met and bought her constant companion, Bela the raven.

Although she had a new best friend, Theresa still felt incomplete.  It was a familial bond she was lacking, and couldn't stop thinking about her Mother and Grandmother all the way back in Barovia.  She had almost finished school, but she hadn't majored in any especially useful subjects.  While she had enough credits (thanks to her work in the library and a bit of aiding the other staff) to graduate, the school refused to allow her to take her exams early.  While she was disappointed, she decided to leave anyway.  She sold her few belongings, "cashed out" her last term of tuition, and made her way to Vallaki to find her family.

When she finally tracked down the Vistani tribe she had been born into, she was told quite roughly that her Mother and Grandmother had both been dead for years, and that she had no home among them.  She was a Giorgio. Nothing more, nothing less.  Heartbroken, she took up residence in The Lady's Rest, and stays there often still.

Alone and wide-eyed in the world, this teenage girl is just looking for a place to call home.

((Sorry it took so long to post these- I just kept forgetting))
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Rod-of-Frost on September 10, 2007, 01:30:39 PM
Orillion Lyansane,

Orillion Lyansane was the result of a wild fling between a barmaid at the White Stag Inn and Lord Morn before he liberated Daggerdale from Zhent rule. Both Lord Morn and Orillion never knew they were related. During his younger years, his mother taught him how to read and write but not only Common but also Elven. Orillion never knew who his father was but during Lord Morn's quest to liberate Daggerdale, his mother served as a spy for his father but at the age of ten his mother was made an example of and hanged to keep the local townspeople in line. His mothers silent and last "I love you." on the gallows has left an everlasting image in his mind. Afterwards, he joined Lord Morn's quest in liberating Daggerdale and was a spy like his mother and was known to talk his way out of trouble if ever caught let alone his handling of horses. Finally after fives years of horse thieving from Zhents and spying on them, Daggerdale was finally liberated.

At fifteen, Lord Morn and Orillion were known to have shouting matches like a typical father and son would, although they never knew they were of blood. Finally Lord Morn sent Orillion off to Shadowdale where he spent the next three years learning the arts and diplomacy from one of the greatest bards in Faerun, Storm Silverhand. During this time he learned about the Harpers. He was eager to join but had to prove himself resourceful. He returned home at eighteen and became a diplomat to the nearby elf village of Wayrest for Daggerdale. Then finally came his chance to join the Harpers, he was sent to investigate a strange mist on an isle that comes off the Moonsea during the early morning hours. Now finding himself in a distant realm of Ravenloft, he tries to find a new purpose in his life now but also tries to be accepted, without giving in to his fears he holds deep and shares with the closet to him.
Title: Adrian Nicolae
Post by: Inviktus on September 20, 2007, 03:04:03 PM
Adrian is the second son of Georghe and Lavinia Nicolae.  His two siblings are his elder brother is Michael and his younger sister Joana.

The Nicolae family own a recently prosperous distillery.  Having settled on a lush parcel of conquered Gundar land after leaving Vallaki where they are distantly related to the Romuliches.  Their relatively sudden wealth comes from their apricot brandy which has gained wide spread demand in Borca.

In response to this Adrian was sent to Levkarest to study the Borcan ways and ultimately serve the family as their factor in Borca.  Michael was kept close at home to manage the family orchards.

After the Invidian invasion of Barovia shipments from the Nicolae distillery ceased and Adrian has returned home to find the family buildings a charred ruin.  No trace or word of his family has yet been discovered.

Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Ellana Twiggy on September 21, 2007, 06:15:16 AM
Ellana Twiggy

Human, 22, female.

Ellana was born as one of two children to a poor farm family just outside the township of solace in northern Abansania. When her brother left the family farm to join the knights of solamania in their fight against the nekrans she naturally snuck off as well. Her traveling time there was rough and with caravans, she cut her hair short and bound her breasts so that she might be mistaken as a man, for the knights would not accept a woman into their ranks of militia, and she also did not wish for her brother to recognise her. She spent five years on the fore front and battle lines, though the locations of the battles varied and changed, she remained on the lines, obtaining the rank of seargent before her secret was discovered, as she had advanced faster than her brother Marcus, and he ended up under her command. Her entire platoon summarily complained and she was dismissed from service. This act in itself caused her to swear to herself that she would never help a solamanic again.
Her next few years, from the age of seventeen to twenty she spent in the Planes Of Dust and Ice Reach, training herself against the harshest conditions and honing her skills amongst the desert nomads who lived there. During this time she served the lord of vengeance, Sargonnas, and was one of his best swords women, if not his only. Soon after she turned twenty however, she was absolved of her binding contract to the lord of vengeance and left the deserts to search out her own life. She found a place with in the temple of Sirrion, lord of flame and freedom of will, an honor guard to the high priestess, and went on may dangerous missions to vanquish all that would oppress the weak or try to thwart Sirrions will. Her adventures even took her to the keep of Lord Soth, and she came to learn of his exile from the lands of Krynn. Due to this extinction of evil from the lands she decided to investigate, after all there must be a reason for his departure and a clue to where he went. She spent many days and nights around the cursed keep, searching through all of it's secrets, fighting undead of all shapes and forms. After all, she was one of the chosen of her god and she wielded his flaming sword and wore his molten tempered armor. One day, the mists grew thicker than normal and surrounded her and her camp, there were only a few who had gathered with her on the journey, one of such being Bralo, a warrior who also hailed from her temple, another being a mage in training.
Though not overly fond of mages, she made the exception for her friend Bralo, who had insisted that they bring one along "for protection". She obviously didn't agree, and watched the mage closely, having hunted them for her lord Sargonnas while in his service she was adept in resisting their mind spells and striking quick to pierce their heart should they attempt to spin their lies and spells.
As the mists thickened she wandered off, venturing deeper, believing that it was an omen and a sign. She would finally find her answer and track down the fiend, ending him once and for all in the name of her lord. She can remember so little of that walk however, the mist was thick, blinding, and then her mind exploded with pain and she awoke outside of the vistani camp, lost, cold, and stripped of her possessions. Her body ached and felt weak, and she knew that what ever trip she had taken had drastically weakened her and that she would have to redouble her training before she sought out the darkness she desired to vanquish. Still, now there was doubt in her mind, something which seemed to be creeping in, and the holy symbol of her lord, Sirrion, no longer seemed to burn brightly against her breast. She was cold and wet. . .and it seemed. . .alone. . .
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Ciaran999 on September 25, 2007, 02:57:39 PM
Well, the out of game motivation for Damiana’s background is she is one of my characters in DDO:Stormreach, which takes place in the world of Eberron. Roleplay there is light and only done by certain individual and guilds who all stick to themselves to prevent having their experience ruined or ruining the experience of others in group who do not roleplay. I don’t roleplay on DDO - I personally don’t find the game to be conducive to it.

That said, each character I make I have some kind of story, idea and concept behind as most of them are characters that will exist in stories that I am planning to write, which take place in my own world. Damiana is really the only character that I’ve attempted to tie in with the lore of Eberron, so in that sense she’s the most “fleshed out” character I have. Her biography in my world is of course a little different, but some key elements are still present.

So, since Damiana is a paladin venturing in the land of Xen’drik in DDO and I’m spending less time playing there, I decided to have her be “taken by the mists” and be my main character (for now, anyway) in Ravenloft PotM, where I'm rediscovering the joys of roleplaying!

Okay, enough yakking, here’s her background (which shouldn’t be considered to be known IC).

Damiana Mavra is the only daughter of a noble family from the land of Cyre, a now destroyed land known only as “The Mournland”, a wasteland surrounded by dead grey mist that is teeming with living spells and deadly monsters on the continent of Khorvaire. Damiana was born with jet black hair that cascaded down past her shoulders and was her pride and joy until she was nine, when the traumatic event that would decide her destiny stole that from her as well as all her childhood dreams occurred.

While sleeping one night, dreaming of such things as young noble children do, Damiana was attacked by an allip that slowly started to drain her sanity from her as she slept. Her pleasant dreams were replaced by the horrible and maddening dreams of a tortured mind that was not her own. It was then that Dol Arrah, the goddess of honorable combat, self-sacrifice and sunlight appeared to her in her dreams, demanding her to wake up and recite the prayer to the Host she had been taught by her mother.

Her eyes flew open as if they were doors forcibly being thrown aside, and clutching the symbol of the Sovereign Host that hung around her neck, struggled to resist the allip’s maddening influence as she prayed to the Host and (Dol Arrah particularly) for deliverance. Although she succeeded in repelling the allip, her exertion pushed her over the brink and she collapsed into a coma from which she did not awaken from for six months.

Upon awaking Damiana had no recollection of the events and had no idea where she was. Her parents, who had not left her side for the six months she was in a coma were overjoyed to see her recover and thus began the long steps towards recovery. Slowly, Damiana recovered her memory and as she did so, she felt her own sanity become threatened as she relived the horror of that night so many months ago. On top of the mental anguish, Damiana’s long black hair, her pride and joy had been turned stark white; as if the color bled out along with some of her sanity.

Even worse, upon learning the details behind the allip’s attack Damiana’s soul was laden with guilt. The allip was the remains of a somewhat deranged classmate that her and her friends had teased relentlessly and whose affections Damiana had spurned rather harshly. The boy took his own life after his fragile sanity was shattered by Damiana’s harsh words.

Although she recovered physically, Damiana’s mind and soul still bore the scars from that night and she celebrated two birthdays within the walls of an asylum. Had the boy’s revenge been completed? Damiana’s dreams of serving the host as a cleric had seemingly been dashed to bits upon her guilt and feelings of being unfit to serve the gods.

It was then that Dol Arrah appeared to Damiana again in her dreams, this time showing her a path of atonement and service to the Sovereign Host -- the path of the paladin. Damiana’s recovery from that point was rapid as with renewed faith and a purpose to fulfill, she found her will to exist and to serve renewed. Damiana trained and prayed diligently and at the age of fifteen served in Cyre’s militia. Her outstanding service earned her a place in the Cyran army at the age of nineteen and during The Last War her exemplary service as both a soldier and servant of the Sovereign Host did not go unnoticed. She was praised by Queen Dannel ir'Wynarn of Cyre and granted audience with her.

Although offered several means ranging from mundane to magical to restore her hair's color, Damiana rejected every offer, wishing to keep her hair it's stark white color as a reminder of her need to atone for her past and to continue to serve the Host. She now keeps her hair cut short, with long bangs framing her sharp features and ice blue eyes. Beneath her usually serious expression is a warmth and compassion that shares space with something...darker...as if an echo of her brush with the brink of madness still lingers. Against most foes she'd rather resort to diplomacy but against the particularly vile, most especially the undead she is relentless and merciless.

Sadly, with the mysterious destruction of her homeland of Cyre that brought about the end of the last war, Damiana found herself again confronted with tragedy both personal and shared with her fellow countrymen. Damiana’s search for answers and purpose took her to the largely unsettled, wild continent of Xen’drik and most recently, she returned to Khorvaire with other Mourners (Cyran refugees) to try to penetrate the mists of the Mournland to find clues about what happened to her country.

It was while wandering through the dead grey mists of the Mournland that she was knocked unconscious by a mysterious figure and awoke outside of camp of mysterious folk she has come to learn are called “Vistani”.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: TheWanderer on October 07, 2007, 12:05:06 AM
Valenduil Galiana
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Mix elf and human.. a bit a booze.. and before long you have a child.. and a very angry elven father.. soon following a dead human.

Val did not get the usual child hood as his mother lived with her father having no coin to support herself otherwise.  And as hard as she tried she could only stay her father's wrath from the "half blood made by a night with a piece of cattle" so long.  He was barely entering his age of a young man when he was exiled from the house, and cast to the wind to find his fate or death.

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He wandered the lands wondering how he'd survive, using trees as his bed, and scraps as his food, and finally ended up in the town of Beregost.  It was a thriving if small city with three inns, collecting much wandering talent to try to keep the guests of them happy.  Val would stand on his tip toes watching them perform, and occaisionally sneak into watch.  They sang and whether good or not most of the time seemed to end up with drink, or at least food, even some pretty lasses sometime, and none of them had homes either.  The life charmed him and he sooned followed, unable to get one to teach him he soon taught himself taking all the mugs and boos that went with learning.

Wasn't but two years and a very risky bet, where he won a lute that Val was beginning to become quite proficient and even gather a crowd.  He may not have been the best but he tried to stay on his feet, and always try something new.  Never knew if he was going to sing, or spin a tale, or perform a bit of magic tricks.  He truly was a master of none and yet a dabbler in everything.

He learned how to usually earn a profit, amaze, charm, and dodge flying bottles and fists of boyfriends unknown with a flying ease.  However, one cannot dodge forever, and he was eventually forced to leave the town of Beregost in search of work elsewhere until things queited down.

Soon he was following the direction of where ever the spit dried fastest on his finger, leaving his fate to Akadi himself as he traveled the lands, amazingly survivng despite the absolutely stupid situations his curiousity got him into.  Reason and control was never one of Val's strenghts, he was going to live and he was not going to have any regrets of a curiousity he never satiated. He saw some ruins, some grand adventurers, and some evil villians, but one night as he walked the lands, a strong fog began to develop, and a cloaked figure appeared.  He began to draw his crossbow to defend himself, but something hit him over the head....

Sometime later the handsome half elf smelling a campfire his body shivering in the cold... Where was he?  He didn't know but the sound of gyspsy drums sounded amazingly friendly.. and they were his type of people weren't they? He forced himself off and followed Akadi's lead yet again into the cold... 





Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Asisa on October 24, 2007, 08:06:45 PM

Pierre Lesang:  A search for a Ray of Hope

A happy golden haired boy raised in Port-a-Lucine, Dementlieu.  Pierre dreamily wiled away his youth in books and dreaming of the adventures that his brother Francois and his friends must have as they scampered about the streets.  Too slow and plump as a child to keep up, Pierre tried to content himself with what he could discover in books and songs of glory.  He would sit in the small kitchen of the inn and listen to his mother reciting tales of distant heroes and songs of unobtainable loves, her blue eyes sparkling and her golden hair glimmering in sunlight.  His childhood was warm, he did not seek the thrills and adventure that the streets provided François, his simple existence, as the child of an innkeeper was enough for him as long as he had these tales to live in his mind.

And then the tales stopped.  A stormy night on the coast drove all inside and the inn bustled with the songs and tales of the merchant sailors that frequented the inn filled the common area with a happy deafening clamor, that sharply contrasted the foreboding night that lay outside the walls of the inn.  Through the night Pierre happily cleared the taps and mopped the spills, giving him a chance to overhear bits of sailor myth, exaggeration, and tall-tales.  The inn’s common room stayed active long beyond its normal time of close and eventual the roar of the early night tapered off to the contemplate silence of the inebriated and nostalgic.  The whistle of wind out side creaked at the wooden walls in the stillness of the inn as people now contended sipped at something warm or battled with their drooping eyes and slouching heads.  Pierre aided his mother as she wiped down the bar and tables. She slipped through them quietly not yet prepared to send these land-bond sailors on their way to whatever they called home.  Pierre was attending to a mess left by a particularly festive sailor in the corner of the inn when he noticed the man.  He never heard him enter, but he shone like a star.  His clothes were smooth and elegant and he glided like a dancer to the bar where his mother stood.  She smiled warmly at the fine dressed stranger.  All sounds elsewhere seemed to stop.  Even the whistling wind seemed to hush itself not wishing to disturb this encounter.  They spoke briefly in low voices, she giggled slightly and placed a glass of deep red wine in front of him.  The stranger leaned across to her a whispered something into her ear.  The sound drifted across the bar seeming to ring in the empty glasses that littered the tables.  His mother’s face seemed then to drain of color as she turned her eyes to meet his and her warm smile faded away her mouth opened imperceptible.  The stranger spoke again to her in a now urgent, whispered tone, his tone now heat.  Her eyes remained transfixed on his and something like fear seemed to spread itself physically across her entire body.  The stranger’s body began to tighten as if rage itself had grabbed it and squeezed with all its might.  A wine glass shattered as it the floor scattering shards and the last dregs of wine, a half asleep sailor started at his own clumsiness, glancing around embarrassed.  The shattered glass broke the dead quiet of the room and merchants and their crews began to awaken from their contemplations.  The stranger held her locked in his gaze for a single moment longer and then seemed invisibly driven out into the whirling winds by the now stirring patrons.  Pierre and his mother never spoke of that night, but the warmth of her smile never again returned and the glitter in her eyes died.  The stories and songs stopped that stormy evening. 

The inn prospered in the following years gaining a reputation as a refuge of comfort and culture to those that traded on the open seas.  But as successful as the inn became, Pierre saw something drain from the guests and even the walls themselves, something intangible, something he could only describe as hope.  The home slowly bleed this away, only his brother Francois seemed unaffected by this slow eating plague of the soul.  Francois being little at home, still adventuring around the city, busying himself with matters of love and excitement.  Pierre could not escape these walls and with the death of his songs he felt a part of himself drifting towards darkness, like a ship adrift in the night.  Until a second stranger arrived.

Years later a new stranger arrive.  This one was not elegant and did not seem elegant or beautiful, a foul smelling foreigner speaking with a harsh accent, already drunk on beer and filthy from weeks of travel on foot.  Near barbaric, he shone in stark contrast to the well-dressed and cultured denizens of the bar.  But he had money and despite the objections of the regulars he was able to quickly by his way into residence in the inn.  Week after week he’d sit in the bar disheveled and dirty, never smiling, never a kind word to Pierre as he would serve him.  But Pierre saw a glint in him, something in that old man’s eyes that he had not seen in that place for many years, hope.  Pierre began finding excuse to speak with the stranger, cleaning his table all to often, refilling his mug before it had been drained.  Eventually on a still night when all sensible others had turned to their beds he spoke to Pierre.  Slurred and stammering he began his tale.  Reciting his life, his lost love, and his betrayal of his Lord and brothers.  Weeping he spoke of the Morning Lord and Barovia and Pierre saw a strong spark of hope in that old man’s eyes.  Pierre interrogated the man about this Morning Lord and a smile shone across the old man’s face as he began to speak of his Lord.  Over the following months the two spent into the earlier hours speaking of the Morning Lord and the hope he brought with the dawn.  After a nearly a year had passed the old man’s funds began to wither away and stress again creeped into his body, mumbling to himself desperation graying his dark hairs.  Their late night conversations turned to the future and his hopelessness.  But Pierre now saw hope in the coming of the dawn, his soul know whole again as it had been in his youth.  He new what they must both do, travel to Barovia, seek out the Church of the Morning Lord and spread these seed of hope, before the world was consumed as his home was by despair.  The priest refused at first, declaring that he could never return that he’d done the unthinkable.  But his growing desperation and Pierre’s hope filled arguments eventually overcame his fears and he smiled as he agreed to return to the church, a flare of hope kindled in his heart.

As Pierre prepared for his journey, he found that Francois had taken notice.  He had never felt that Francois had known that he existed.  After all, Pierre was not exciting; he was not a lover or a skilled swordsman.  But Francois seemed troubled by Pierre’s departure and guilt filled Pierre for thinking of leaving this land of hopelessness, leaving behind Francois to succumb to it just as his mother had before.  So he asked him to accompany them to Barovia, as a skilled swordsman he would grant them a great deal of protection on the dark roads ahead.  Francois accepted speaking excited about the adventures that they could now share as brothers and Pierre watched as that ray of hope rekindled his brother’s spirit.  The journey was difficult, dangerous, and long, but Pierre felt his purpose grow with each step and the warmth in his heart fought off the chill of the night air.  The priest did not fair as well.  With each step towards home he became more anxious as if something dark slowly was winding its way around his heart.  He began mumbling in his sleep about unforgivable offences and ultimate betrayals.  Pierre tried to turn his mind to the teachings of the Morning Lord and at first it would help, but as they grew closer the priests mouth seemed to dry as he mentioned the Morning Lord and eventually the priest stopped speaking all together, but he would tremble terribly no matter the weather.  Pierre began to think that it was unforgivable to inflict the on the priest and perhaps they should turn around and find a place where the father could prepare himself more gradually.  He mentioned this as they made camp on a warm, clear night and the priest smiled and spoke again, thanking Pierre.  The rest of the night passed cheerfully as the three conversed happily about the travel so far and the obstacles they had overcome.  Pierre felt a warmth of spirit slip over him as he drifted to sleep.  The morning did not hold such comfort for him.  He awoke to find a thick mist had rolled in during their slumber.  He called out for the others, but could not find them.  He stumbled blindly about calling their names.  No one ever replied. 

Pierre stumbled through the mists for hours perhaps days, until a dark silhouette presented itself in front of him.  “You should be careful wandering in the mists,” a thickly accented voice said.  The figured turned and continued on its way.  Pierre followed quickly desperate to keep up.  The figure disappeared into the mists and Pierre’s heart sank, but just as he felt his last ounce of hope drain from him morning rays pierced the mist and revealed a small camp of wagons in front of him.  The walked slowly into the camp, its residents paying him little heed as they went about their morning routines.  A striking female stepped in front of him.  “This is not a place for you, cultist of the Morning Lord.  Your people wait for you there.”  She pointed off toward an old temple and hike up her skirt as she climbed the steps back into her wagon.  Dazed, Pierre wandered forward to the decaying temple to the west, but his heart as he caught sight of the symbol of the Morning Lord etched on the door.  He strode into the temple waking up to a priest standing at the altar.  “Bonjour.  I am Pierre Lesang of Dementlieu, and follower of the Morning Lord.  I come to walk in his footsteps and to serve his church.”

Pierre, a foreigner from a land that does not hear the words of the Morning Lord and acolyte of a self-proclaimed heretic, now seeks to prove himself a true believer and a trusted member of the church and gain official acceptance as a member of Zachea’s temple.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: vacancy on March 05, 2008, 11:53:30 PM
Trysten Faeward

His precocity made an early outsider of the boy.  Upon finding himself rarely invited to interact with family and friends, his immediate reflex was to expend much of his energy in masking his own interests and learning how to adapt to any social sphere.  Neither deficient in comprehension nor social graces, Trysten soon found himself adept at coddling adults and placating his peers.  His skills were duly noticed within Sigil, the City of Doors, a place where beliefs literally shape the terrain.  The position of page became his, working for the Ciphers.  In a faction devoted to the perfection of thought made action, he was an unlikely ally.  Prone to layering contingency plans over contingency plans, his ability to react to unlikely scenarios with aplomb was mistaken for a knack at improvisation.  The faction rewarded what they misperceived as a natural talent, and Trysten was soon promoted to the role of minor negotiator within Sigil on behalf of the Transcendental Order.

Over time, he could not help but pick up a certain amount of impetuosity from his cohorts, and they rewarded his success with an increasing amount of trust.  Trysten began placing himself in situations for which he had not prepared and found that he thrived in the uncertainty.  The faction's philosophy had a profoundly positive influence on him, and he found himself able to cope with the unexpected, except when it mattered most.

An only child, he was doted upon from a distance.  Frequently abroad acting on behalf of the Eladrin, the Faewards lavished Trysten with gifts and the best education they could provide, though failing to offer anything in the way of affection or immediacy to their son.  His mother and father mistook Trysten's ability to understand the importance of their work as license to leave him to his own devices.  Recognizing the boy's loneliness, Trysten's aunt and uncle chose him to be the godfather for their daughter, hoping to show that he was needed and important to them.  As with all members of the Faeward clan, they too were proxies of the Eladrin, and enmeshed in the politics of Sigil.  They wished to watch out for their daughter's up-bringing in the event of the unthinkable, and their designation of Trysten was a matter of both honor and great responsibility.  Taken before a court of modrons, beings of ultimate law, Trysten was enchanted with a geas to perform to the best of his abilities to personally raise Evelyn, his niece, to maturity in the event his aunt and uncle met an untimely end.  In order to compel him to do so, a move that he dismissed as nothing more than an out-dated tradition, they sentenced him to a lingering disease (and ultimately death) for so long as he neglected her up-bringing.

His aunt and uncle met their deaths but two days later, purportedly victims of betrayal, and Trysten found himself with an infant goddaughter who promised an end to the care-free and limitless life he had chosen.  The geas had been accepted voluntarily, and there was no prospect of breaking it.  He had not the money to use the services of any of the great mages within Sigil, and he no longer had the time to research arcana himself.  Raising Evelyn demanded all of his time, as he refused to abandon her to servants and boarding school as had been done with him.  She would not be teaching herself about life as he had been, wandering streets that teemed with baatezu and slaadi.  The notion was absurd.

The taste of resignation and resentment turned his stomach as he left his post that very day.  The Ciphers were not disappointed, and commended the rapidity with which he had taken action and left their ranks.  Returning home from the faction's tower, he turned into a bazaar to purchase the first meal which he would prepare for Evelyn, sleeping in a crib at home with none but the half-elven nanny that had raised him before.  A pall of bitterness engulfed him, and for the first time in his life, he toyed with the idea of leaving his obligations to pursue a life for himself.  The fantasy was a brief one, as thoughts of the geas soon followed.  Leaving her would kill him.

The mists swallowed him whole, even as he dropped a jar of honey into his pack.

Had his aunt and uncle known that their lives were in jeopardy?

Now, trapped in Barovia, which can only be described as provincial in its attitudes, they all tell him there is no escape, no return.  There is no way to warn anyone of the newly-discovered portal in the bazaar, and there are no allies to turn to.  His inherent arcane talents would render him a pariah if they were exposed, and his dealings with planar creatures would have him burned at the stake if they were spoken of.  His passions and his interests are universally forbidden.  He is a shadow of a man, ham-strung and obliged to act a fool.

And Evelyn.

He has been told there is no escape, time and time again.  Evelyn is alone, and so long as he continues to actively search for a portal to the City of Doors, the exact wording of the geas might not take his life.  Everyone in Vallaki has sworn there is no way out; there has not been a single voice of hope.  Must he waste his entire life in a fruitless search just to prevent the geas from killing him?  To live a lie over the course of years in a false search, or to lie down and die within a week?  What if searching for a portal is insufficient to meet the letter of the modron's law, and the wasting disease has already set in?  It cannot be stopped until Evelyn is cradled in his arms again.

He won't be making a promise lightly ever again.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Certron Romanoff on March 28, 2008, 10:23:40 PM
Angus MacDougal, a Man of Gondor, who all his life trained with his fathers sword to be worthy to be a soldier in the Gondorian army, found disfavour from his father who wished him to grow up to take over the family business of breeding horses for the Knighthood. Angus sought out ex-soldiers and militia that had reputations for being good swordsmen, and secretly began a routine of daily practise.

More and more as Angus persued his love for swordplay, and his dream of joining the army, it drove him farther and farther from his father, and his home. His pride in his home, the city of Minas Tirith, burned deep in his heart, and the knowledge that orc and goblin armies where massing to lay siege drove him harder and harder to prefect his skill at arms. he learned to care for his armor and weapons as if they where treasures and truly, that is how he thought of them, as treasures, his most valuable possessions.

One day, after hearing of a group of youths that had gone out to track down a scouting party of goblins, Angus grabbed a horse from his fathers herd and set out after them. By nightfall he had lost their trail and ended up lost in a thick mist. As morning dawned Angus came across a camp of strangely dressed people he learned where called the Vistani, and after questioning several people at an inn near the camp, learned to his astonishment that the world of Arda was no longer where he found himself.

Upon finally excepting the reality of what had happened, Angus began to ask around about armies that existed that might be recruiting. He was told the only organised groups where the local guard and the militia. He was warned that the guards where, for the most part, corrupt and brutes, he sought to meet or apply to the militia, but has as yet to meet anyone that could help him to complete this course.

After meeting and travelling a bit with a female paladin from the church of Ezra, Tasha, he began to seek out the company of church members finding he was drawn to the tenants and purpose of their order, the protection of others. Little by little he found himself being draw to Tasha, and trying on any excuse to be near, or travelling with her. Not believing himself worthy of her or her noble cause, he is content just to be near he and aid her any way he can.

He still continues his hardy schedule of practise with his sword and was very happy to finally find what on this world equalled a "good" example of his weapon of choice, a steel longsword, and having lost his fathers sword upon entering the mists, now keeps with him always. he is now seeking someone more skilled them himself to continue to teach him so he can become a master with the blade. As of yet he hasn't found anyone he finds better then himself, but he vows not to stop till he has found such a person.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Azrun Deturi on March 31, 2008, 09:24:31 AM

The Background story of Zalan Kossetha

He grew up in Thay in one of the minor noble families that reside in Bezantur and because he showed an aptitude for magic at a very young age Zalan was taken up by one of the most ruthless Evokers of the metropolis. Here he learned that one gets more done with being cruel and with force then with kind words, for he greatly respected and feared his powerfull mentor, but also envied him. He soon developed a knack for evocations and studied relentlessly to gather more arcane might. Because of this, and his willingness to bow down to his superiors and lash out at those beneath him he earned the attention of his mentor and with his tutoring Zalan soon became an apprentice with a very bright future. On several occasions he rejected his family duties in order to study the Art, and he soon distanced himself of everyone close to him and was only focused on expanding his arcane knowledge and power, obsessed with magic and the power it held.
 
One night when walking to the residence of his master he encountered his father. His father was drunk and a heated argument arose and the short-tempered Zalan lashed out at his father. In the fight that ensued Zalan killed his father. First confused he ran away to the docks, there he walked up a peer and contemplated on his actions. The moment a smirk came on his face while his twisted mind reveled in the thought he had just killed the one that gave him life a strange dense mist arose from the sea. Still engulfed in a feeling of might and superiority Zalan wasn’t aware of his surroundings and suddenly he felt a push and plunged in the waters of the Sea of Fallen Stars. He gasped for air as the ice cold water pushed all of it out of his lunges, and when he reached the water surface he felt something was amiss, something was out of place, or maybe he was…
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Mrjunkie on July 14, 2008, 01:29:19 PM
Igor was borne in the forgotten realms of Fearun.
He never knew his parents nor would he want to, he has his mind set that he is bigger better stronger and faster than any man woman child or beast.
What he lacks in size he compensates with his mouth and actions.
As a worker Igor has always been well known amongst the commoners...often at his own expense as he is a seedy charachter.

Title: Jerolyn Rayne
Post by: inuyashwannab on July 22, 2008, 05:38:52 AM
(http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm216/inuyashwannab/Jero6-1.jpg)

((custom made, pm me for the rar. file))

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Height: 5'6

Weight: 110 lbs.

Hair: Dark wavey locks pulled up in a loose ponytail.

Eyes: Dark brown,, accented by long dark lashes. Almond shaped.

Skin: Tanned, smooth to the touch with a floral scent to it, like freesia. Her skin is flawless, devoid of blemish or scarring.

Body type: Fit and agile with a tight tummy and slightly toned arms and legs.  She carries herself with confidence and in a way that suggests she can handle herself well.
.

Age: Appears to be in her early twenties.



-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Jerolyn knows and remembers nothing about her past or where she came from....she woke up in the mist near the Vistani camp.  Everything else is like a dream that she cannot remember.  Jerolyn is tolerant and kind, but has a poor sense of self preservation.  She's also stubborn and insists on taking care of herself, but she is quite incapable of turning her back on someone in need. 

Ravenloft is a strange and harsh place to this young woman. though she has no home to compare it to, she finds adjusting to life in this place a challenging and nearly impossible task.
Title: Aceline Lanner
Post by: inuyashwannab on July 27, 2008, 08:46:48 AM
(http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm216/inuyashwannab/Ace-1.jpg)

((pm me if you want her portrait and i'll send you the rar file))

*Appearance*

Hair: Wavy golden blond curls that reach just below the center of her back.

Skin: Apricot with a healthy glow , soft.

Height: 5'0 Feet.

Weight: 110 lbs.

Eyes: Dark grey, almost black, colored. Long dark lashes and perfectly arched eyebrows accent her eyes.

Body type: Fit and agile, although slightly petite in appearance she has all the right curves.

Piercings: A silver stud in each ear.



------------------------------------------------------------


Aceline is quite an attractive young woman, looking around her late teens early twenties, and carries herself with grace.  Her hair is soft and wavy, her golden locks always well combed and shining in the sunlight.  Her apricot skin is flawless, smooth and warm to the touch, smelling of jasmine.  Her eyes are gentle and her voice is soft and musical.  She's in perfect shape, with slightly toned arms and a flat stomach. She's quite energetic, but a bit lazy and high maintenance.  Stubborn and self reliant, it's hard for people to understand (let alone get close) to this beautiful woman, but she's loyal and understanding and isn't happy unless she's getting -someone's- attention.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Psykris on August 30, 2008, 07:15:55 AM
Loke Paleskin
-----------------------------------------------

Loke was born into a tribe of nomads, the precise location where the tribe, called the Paleskins, travelled is not known, but is believed to be somewhere in the northern region of the sword coast. He grew up in the tribe, where the only thing on anybody’s mind was, survival. There was never much food, and you had to fight dirty to survive.
The tribe could be considered an animal pack, more than a human tribe. And they lived like animals.
Loke grew up fast, he quickly learned how to hunt, and became a respected. He learned that to survive, you sometimes must do unspeakable things.
One day however, the tribe was assaulted, unprepared they where slaughtered, instead of helping the tribe, Loke escaped, with no remorse or guilt, the long time spent living like an animal, had removed his ability to see the difference between humans and animals.
He travelled far and wide, visited cities and civilisations, he often got beaten up and learned that you can never do on your own, and that every man needed someone to fight with.
He often got in trouble with authorities, not because they where leaders, every tribe needed a leader, but because they where trying to make laws, and Loke hated laws and the idea of someone telling him what to do, the time spend in the wild had learned him, that there where no rules when it came to surviving.

Loke’s immediate goal is just to survive the world, but what he truly wishes for, is anarchy, a world where no rules are set, and humans returned to the state of animals.

One day, when he was out hunting, he went farther out than usually, and a strange mist laid down upon him.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Wids on September 13, 2008, 05:25:23 AM
Viorica Biserica
Age: 22 years
Height: 5' 9"
Weight: 120 lbs
Build: Lithe and muscular


Family Matters

(http://www.tritonius.com/NWN/VioricaBio1.jpg)

"I am loath to speak of my history, for there is much which I would just as soon forget.  But perhaps my trust in you is not ill-placed, hmm?

"The homestead where I came of age was secluded in the forests of southern Barovia, somewhere between Berez and Teufeldor.  Father warned us to never venture near the mountains...too many dangerous beasts and devils, he would warn us.  We lived well enough for our means, with Father hunting and trapping and Mother growing herbs and flowers for the markets.  My four siblings and I helped where needed, and Father made certain that we did.  With their goods shouldered or bagged for travel, our parents would make their treks to the markets of the nearby cities.  And though the cityfolk accepted our trades pleasantly enough, there was always the air of distrust and suspicion about them.

"I suppose their regard for us was understandable.  Every one of our brood had lived in the woodlands from birth onward, where the cityfolk would seldom abandon the comforts of their settlements and approach.  Father was a hunter and a ranger, and he taught his five children the ways of hunting and preparing our kills from an early age.  But Mother...there was something queer in her blood.  Something which had tainted each of her children as we grew in her womb.

"Out away from the cities and the streets, something primal courses through the untamed lands...something which I, for all my connection to it, can vaguely comprehend.  Something gentle and cruel, nourishing yet poisonous, warm yet cold.  Father could touch this power and, through it, could call forth the birds and the beasts to serve our needs, or cause the briars and brambles to shoot forth from the earth and ensnare all who drew too near.  But for all his bond with the Wyld, Mother and her powers handily overshadowed him.

"In my earliest memories of her, she was a loving wife for Father and a gentle mother to me and my siblings.  I do not know why, but with the years she grew increasingly cold and distant, distracted with some unwitnessed thing and lashing out with anger at the merest provocations.  And her discord was passed onto us, greater and greater with each birth.  I am the eldest of the five, and Mother's...essence, perhaps?  It afflicted me with hair which is quite unnatural in its hue.  Something beneath my skin is always itching, and from time to time--often in the springtime--a tiny shoot or sprig of some odd variety of ivy will sprout from my skin, as if it belonged there.  I pluck the shoot out and a small rivulet of blood will always fall from the wound.  For these unsavory quirks, I thank my mother with bitterness.

"And in succession my siblings had worse.  Toman's yellow eyes were as those of a wolf, and gray tufts of coarse hair--or fur--cropped from his cheeks and his neck as puberty found him.  The tops of Stelian's hands and feet were clad less in human skin and more in the scaled hide of a serpent, scales which crept further along his peculiar lengthened shins and forearms as he aged.  And Ovidiu and Daciana, if I was told truly, could rightly be called caliban in frame and in mind--part human, part animal and part unspeakable aberrant, so warped had they grown through Mother's rising wickedness and witchery; neither of them were ever permitted to join our parents on their travels into town, for neither could be mistaken for anything normal and acceptably human.

"We were the odd folk who lived away from civilization, and each child born to Father and Mother increased our isolation.  But one year, Mother went away with two sinister men, their robes and leathers dark and littered with tethered animal bones.  And when Father came home, we told him of Mother's departure, and he grew deeply dismayed and raced away into the forest with great speed, forbidding us to follow him.

"We never saw Mother again.  When Father returned home, he told us that we would need to forget about her, for she would no longer be part of our lives.  Mother was gone, not to return, and something had changed within Father as well.  He was always strict with our discipline before, but that vigilance grew fourfold overnight into a burdening and oppressive thing.  Every hour was counted, every chore was demanded of us and merriment gave way to ever more work.  And Father's criticisms grew louder and more jarring with his descent into despair, and nothing his children could do ever met his impossible expectations.  When criticism turned to derision and buffets, I did what any teen-aged child would do when seeking to escape a relentlessly miserable home: I ran away and struck out on my own.

"Father and Mother had taught me hunting and forraging, so I survived well enough on my own.  I had hoped to return for my siblings upon finding a better life for us, but I feared that I was always too near to Father, too near to Barovia.  And when I happened across a small and gaily-colored travelling circus troupe, I presented myself and went with them.

"There are several circuses and troupes of entertainers wandering the whole of Ravenloft, and some are quite sinister and supernatural.  Happily, mine was not one of the horrid carnival bands.  They at first took me in on account of my condition, believing that one more freak to their scant freakshow would be nothing but good.  But when I practiced my forest-born talents with tumbling and acrobatics, they noticed.  All said, I was not with their freakshow for long."


The Wandering Years

(http://www.tritonius.com/NWN/VioricaBio2.jpg)

"I was only fourteen winters of age when I joined Papa Cristu's troupe, and my body was suited well for vaults and cartwheels and hurdling pirhouettes and other such entertaining feats.  What talents I had, the circus life developed further.  We travelled most of Ravenloft's core--avoiding such menacing domains as Falkovnia and Sithicus--though never remaining in any province for very long.

"I had been a hunter and a forester for much of my life, but as I saw more and more of the lands outside Barovia I came to recognize the troubles within Barovia with greater clarity.  For many nights had Father and Mother snuffed all lamps in our hovel at the first baying of werewolves across the hills, and so many tales crossed our ears of people leaving their refuges at night and wandering into one of the bad places of Barovia, never to walk in the sunlight again.  And I was weary of being afraid of them.  Afraid of the werebeasts, the walking dead, the wicked Unseelie.  Across each border, it seemed, lay another tale of brave people rising up to strike down the creatures of darkness.  Many of these hunters perished, while a sparse few rose above them into greatness, becoming legendary scourges against the supernatural horrors of the world.

"And I reasoned then that hunting deer and wolves was simple.  How great a huntress would I become were I to set my sights on more dangerous game?

"After six years the time had come to leave the circus and return to Barovia.  The unsettling Mists rose again from the borderlands as I crossed through the forest into Barovia, and this time some nameless and looming figure, half of man and half of shadow, beckoned to me through the Mists.  And I pursued him into the outskirts of Vallaki."


(http://www.tritonius.com/NWN/VioricaBio3.jpg)

"My first act of defiance was in the death of a cadavrul...a zombie, you would say.  My first arrow sang through the cemetery fence and struck it soundly in the belly.  If the creature was angered with the wound, it showed nothing of such emotion as it turned on me and slowly loped forward, followed with four others.  Two more arrows punched through the zombie's ribs, toppling it at long last, and I retreated into the woodlands before its fellows could round the fence and close on me.

"For weeks after I surveyed the cemetery at night, watching the undead and gauging their movements, their traits, their habits.  They were cancerous things upon the land, and surely the Forest Fathers welcomed my work.  From a safe distance I observed the more treacherous breeds of the undead, confident that I might one day learn well enough to fell them without perishing first.  Barovia's oldest tales warn that one who falls to the walking dead today shall join them tomorrow, and I have no reason to doubt such stories.

"Later, I dared to grow familiar with the werebeasts, perhaps in hope of a belated vengeance for as often as they had kept my siblings and me cringing beneath our beds.  As with some varieties of undead, special weapons are needed to injure them, weapons which were beyond the reach of my meager purse earlier on.  For that time I was content to track them and watch from afar, fleeing to safety among boughs and buildings whenever the bestial devils found my scent and gave chase."


Iron and Rust

(http://www.tritonius.com/NWN/VioricaBio4.jpg)

"I will not lie.  The life of a hunter is not without its trials, whether of the mind, of the body or of the conscience and soul.  Some of what horrors I have faced or endured have left me with fitful, restless nights graced with nightmares and racing, fluttering heartbeats.  What has fortified my thews and my recovery from many a disease has given rise to a shameful dependence on wine, whiskey and ale, for sometimes the restlessness and lingering fears can only be exorcised through drink and stupor.  I have seen worse souls wile their lives away on alcohol--while my binges remain isolated to times of great strife--but I often wonder if my endeavors against the unearthly will doom me to such a life of squalor and destitution...if they do not doom me to an early grave first.

"But I have learned to temper my hunts against the supernatural with hunts against that which is perfectly natural.  In recent days I felled a grizzly bear with arrows alone, stopping the beast's charge shortly before it could reach me.  For all its wrath and power, there is nothing unholy about an enraged bear.  No tendrils of utter blackness to sap the vigor from my muscles.  No penetrating gaze to send my mind into an all-consuming haze of panic.  No flesh which mends itself like water at the bare moment I withdraw my blade.  And so I have found increasing comfort braving the beasts of the earth, taking their hides and crafting them into furs and armors.  It was on a lark months ago that I decided to craft and sculpt handsome and unique armors for the markets of Barovia, and my skill with leatherwork has grown with the popularity of my Biserica Originals.  Such pursuits keep my mind fresher for my clashes with the abnormal, and so with bow, with blade, with stealth, with agile prowess and with my prized hunting hawk Curaj have I proudly come into my own as a huntress of both worlds.

"Even if I receive little appreciation from Barovia's people for what part I play to keep the devils from their doorsteps, I am content with my work.  May this life less ordinary carry me through many years, and may I always find diamonds among the mountains of dust."

-VB
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Hades on November 04, 2008, 04:35:04 PM
Alexander Silvanus. 
Age: 23
Hair: Dark Brown
Eyes: Green
Build: Muscular

Alexander is the son of Antias and Anelle Goldwyn.  When Alex was only an infant, his family home, The Old Inn was attacked by Vallaki guards. 
His father Antias fell in the battle, but his death gave Anelle the chance to escape with baby Alexander.  In her escape however she was severely
wounded.  She perished soon after, but not before entrusting the care of her son to a family friend in the village of Barovia.  Alexander was raised
the son of Barovian, Nickolai Silvanus and his wife Fionna Silvanus.  When he was eighteen summers old, he enlisted in the Barovian guard.  Two
weeks after joining, while Alexander was out on a patrol, the home of his foster parents was attacked by a group of witches.  The house was
burned to cinders, and both Nickolai and Fionna were found dead.  Alex arrived in time to kill one of the fleeing witches.  Retrieving the spellbook
of the witch, he dedicated his time to studying it and learning everything the book had to offer on the arcane arts.  He would use tihs knowledge
to hunt down and kill every witch he came accross.  He transferred to the city of Vallaki where he spent a short time as a guard before being removed
for fighting with another guard.  He now spends his time traveling Barovia hunting down those who use the dark arts.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: arrmuth on November 05, 2008, 12:29:29 AM
Miranda Petrovna
Age: You dont ask a lady her age.(25ish)
Hair: Waist length dark blonde
Eyes: Deeply enchanting green
Build: Enough to turn mens heads and gain some lude comments


   Miranda is the first born child of one of the families of House Petrovna. She was born in Levkarest where she was raised in a loveless house. Her mother was often gone to social events and her father,who wanted a boy,would have nothing to do with her. From a young age Miranda often seemed to see things that others could not. She would often describe these things as beautiful patterns  that seemed to be all around her. Her father would often pass this off as Miranda having an overly active imagination even as Miranda excelled at her studies. Being of one of the oldest  noble families in the core Miranda was never wanting for anything,except for a loving family. She was an up and coming socialite who was as smart as she was beautiful. Miranda often hid her loneliness in games of the heart with up and coming young noblemen.
  Miranda lost her mother to illness in the winter of her 18th year.With no other siblings about and a father who was never there she became increasingly close to her servants and began to regard them as her family. On more than one occasion Miranda was seen to walk among the poor and downtrodden offering food and money where she could. As Miranda began to withdraw from the high society balls and circles she frequented and spent more time among the the poor talk began to spread. During and epidemic among the poor Miranda met and fell in love with a young poor man who had been stricken ill. She nursed the man for several days until he recovered. They became romantically involved and was married a short time later,where he presented her with a simple jade necklace that he had had inscribed for her. Once her father heard of this he was infuriated that she had lowered herself to not only spend time with commoners but to have actually married one. In the ensuing confrontation with her father the young man admitted to having fallen in love with Miranda's money  and not her and for a fee would gladly disappear from the family's life. Miranda's father became enraged and killed the man on the spot. He then beat Miranda and had her exiled to the family summer home to the West.
   Heart broken and in despair Miranda wandered her families grounds speaking to noone until she could bear it no more. Quietly one morning She slipped from the family estate to a nearby pond where she submerged herself and waited for dark oblivion to take her.
But something else happened. Miranda saw the patterns that she had often seen in her life and was encompassed in a feeling of utter bliss. When she awoke Miranda found herself in the house of a local elderly woman. After some questioning of what had happened to her and what she had seen the woman began to cautiously explain to her that she had been touched from birth by the goddess Hala and was one of her chosen. Miranda became a student of the old woman and and was initated into her coven as a Witch of Hala. Finally among her own kind Miranda found the love that she had been wanting for all her life.
 
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: vlowe72 on December 08, 2008, 05:50:22 PM
From the personal journal of Gert Addams....

Day 14 

I have never been one for keeping journals, but the events of the past weeks have convinced me that I'd better start.  I have been away from home a fortnight and already my memories of my entire life have grown hazy and dim.  It has though everything that I have known up until now has happened to someone else, and I fear that in time the memories will fade altogether.

In an effort to combat this, I shall set down what I remember so that even if I forget, there will be a record of who I was.  Maybe someday I will be able to return to my old life, but from what I can gather from others who share my fate, that is extremely unlikely.

My parents are (were?) Waterdhavian nobles in the Castle Ward of that great city.  There I could have lived out my life in ease and comfort, except that such a life, though, would have driven me insane, so I looked around for something to assuage my wanderlust and thirst for adventure.  I spend many days in the great library at the Spires of the Morning and felt a call to be in service to the MorningLord.  My parents did not approve, but I was accepted as an Awakened, and found I had some skill with the blade.

In my eighteenth year, I took the vows to become a knight in the Order of Aster.  The excitement wore off rather quickly though, as most of my duties constituted of escorting lords and ladies to various functions and keeping the "wrong" sort of people away from said functions.  Exactly the sort of life that I had been hoping to avoid.  While I have no objection to the keeping of law and order, the snobbery and class distinctions of my chosen field were starting to grate on me.

Then I met High DawnLord Alansyn Ambrilar and everything changed.  His specialty was the undead and other creatures of darkness.  I felt myself drawn to this work as a moth to flame.  To actually fight against truly evil creatures, even if it means perishing in the service of the Morninglord, this is what appealed to me!  I spent many an hour in his instruction learning about the necromatic arts and how to combat them.

Then, we had reports of a Wampyr hunting in one of the outlying villages, and the leaders of that town appealed to us for help.  Ambrilar, myself, and some of the other higher ranking knights went to this place at dawn, searching for the monsters lair.  We searched all day, and were about to return to the village, when I found myself separated from the group.  The thrice-damned mist rolled in, and I was in this land.

Thus I found myself in Barovia.  I do not know what foul sorcery has brought me here, and I have spent many days trying to find my way back.  Perhaps I shall return one day as quickly as I left, but so far, only one other person has even heard of the city of Waterdeep, and that one could not help me return.

Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: amdvinci on December 20, 2008, 01:36:34 PM
Isolde Ulliel
This is just her portrait, which is custom made, pm me if you want the rar. file.

(http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm216/inuyashwannab/isolde.jpg)
Title: Return to the Mists.
Post by: WildPirate13 on March 04, 2009, 12:11:25 PM
BIO for Devon Maze.

Devon Maze son of Garfield Lorlian and Mary O'ryan.
Born in the year of the Unicorn Denyen calendar year.
 Race: Half Elf
 Proffesion: Mystic of Waypost "sorceror"
 Age: 48
 Weight: 170
  Height: 5'8
 Eyes: Hazel
 Hair: Black but greying with age, hair is worn over ears.
  Build: Athletic but not muscular
 Demeanor: Quiet but can be prone to irrational action.
 Alignment: Guess :P
 Place of origin: Denyen central continent
 
 Denyen is a fantasy world of my making which.. well I had an atlas and other goodies but sadly I lost them over time.
 
 I am writing this over lunch so please forgive the pace at which it was written :)
 
 The cold rain fell upon the thatched roof moisture collected in corners. Lightning flashed illumination upon the blonde woman in child birth. The smell of blood on the air and screams of child birth could be barely heard from the outside of the run down cottage because of the rain.
  The greying elder from the nearby village waypost knocked solidly on the wooden door. The aged midwife with creases across her skin showed that she had seen many winters. She half opened the door and the screams could be heard clearly now.
   The elder asked is it so? The mid wife nodded quickly and nervously.
    Does he have the mark? She nodded again.
    Will the mother live?  The midwives eyes lowered and quietly said no.

  The village willl decide what to do with this one..






 


 
 
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Montreux on March 20, 2009, 05:35:05 AM
...
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: GunnerDupree on March 25, 2009, 02:30:36 AM
Name: Korthil
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Eyes: Green with a blue strand
Hair: Black shaggy hair going down to his eyes
Height: 5''10
Weight: 145lbs
Place of Birth: World of Eberron, Nation of Aundair, City of Passage
Date of Birth: Year of 998YK (Two years ofter the last war ended) Month of Zarantyre, Day of Zol
-OOC- Class: Sorcerer
-OOC- Alignment: Chaotic Good
-OOC- Languages: Common, Elfen, Halfling

Physical Description
Korthil's most noticeable feature is his Tattoo on his left hand, it resembles a Dragon mark (Dragon marks come from the world of Eberron there are twelve diffrent marks each holding a diffrent power and each mark belongs to a diffrent house) but if any one pays attention to it they would know that it is not a true Dragon mark but it does hold a power similar to one. Second his left cheek has a scar in the shape of an x, he acquired this when one of the kids in his orphanage threw a rock at him. He does hold a somewhat pleasing aura and when people give the chance to talk with him they would know he is actually a very nice person and very charismatic. His hair being black and shaggy, is unkempt going down to his eyes giving him that shy look, although he is far from shy. His eyes are estrange at first glance someone would say they were green but there is a strand of blue that is none like any one has seen but you can get lost in them.

Backround
Korthil was born in Aundair in the city of Passage. After he was born he was dropped off at the local orphanage, there he spent the majority of his life. Because of his Tattoo ,which resembles a Dragon mark but it is not a true Dragon mark, people tend not to trust him and all the kids at his orphanage teased him because of it. With no friends he was very sad until he met a pixie named Darkling he too was abandon with no one and nobody trusted fey so Korthil and Darkling became friends. After a couple more years in the orphanage Korthil decided to leave his town of Passage with to many bad memories. So when he left he went out for the city of Arcanix (an arcane school renown in Eberron for being a flouting city) to seek training as am arcane user. He was taught by an Elf named Syphona she taught him how to be a Sorcerer and how to survive in the world. After his training was complete he and his trusty companion Darkling, now a skilled rouge, left to the Nation of Breland to meet a friend of his master that would give him a job to start him off. But while travailing on a very misty night his plans are about to change along with all he knows his new adventure begins now...
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: cell124 on May 20, 2009, 12:37:19 AM
I'm not into huge bios, but here's one of my characters:

Jessica Powers

Alignment: Chaotic Good
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Profession: Priestess of the Morning Lord
Build: Lean, average height
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Short and neat, a nice light brown

Background:
                Born in a distant war torn land where civility has no existence, Jessica was trained hard by her loving father to defend herself in the harsh land. Her father married a new woman after her mother died. Jessica found herself welcoming a step brother at age 6. She grew and matured, becoming in love with everything alive and good. Unfortunately, her brother was insane on her 17th birthday and threw himself upon her. Confused and heartbroken, Jessica lost her innocence and left her home in tears. She stumbled in some mists and sought refuge in the Sanctuary of the coming dawn, where the light of the Morning Lord calmed her sadness and allowed her to gain confidence to grow and adapt to her new world.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Charon on June 16, 2009, 01:00:35 PM
Grigore Cazacul:

Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Profession: Guard
Build: Athletic
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Dark brown half-bald head

Brief Background:
Grigore Was born as the second son of a manufacturers family and has  three younger sisters. His brother was killed in a Neuri attack when Grigore was still very young. His father, who Grigore loved and respected a lot taught him fighting skills and about the dangers of the land. He grew up helping out in the business and in time he took over the protective role in the family. When his Father one day didn't come back from delivering wares Grigore was convinced, that some witch must have attacked him and that he failed in defending his father. From that moment on Grigore got consumed by his protective role and henceforth applied it to all Barovians.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: PolarSam on August 24, 2009, 05:19:49 AM
Arturo Vokovic
Alignment: TN
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Race: Human
Profession: Ex-military

Appearance: Athletic build, brown hair of medium length, hazel eyes, white-skinned.

Speaks Balok and Vassi with a Borcan accent.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Cursed Ink on August 31, 2009, 08:48:17 AM
Gabriel Von Valentin

Alignment: Neutral
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Race: Human
Profession: Wanderer
Build: Average but muscled. 5'11", 95kgs
Eyes: Clear Blue
Hair: Light Brown

Description:
A reasonably tall young man, with shoulder length brown hair. His clear blue eyes speak of trusting and caring. A slightly pinched face adorned with a single scar. He often wears simply spun clothes of reasonable finery.

Background:
Born of a young noble woman and her husband, his father had been a sucsessful merchant in their home town. Well known and well respected, a man of honor and position. The couple also had other children a girl nearing womanhood and a small boy. When Gabriel was born they decided to relocate, to a nearby village a better place for an ever growing family. Yet on the journey the mists fell upon them, and so did disaster. The family in its entireity was killed. Apart from a young baby which was taken in by a kindly elderly couple.

Again disaster fell, and the couple were taken in the night. Leaving a young boy to wander on his own in the Barovian countryside.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Shadow2876 on October 14, 2009, 10:32:57 AM
Mizfar Kezret is man in his late 20s from a heretical temple of Kossuth in Thay.  Mizfar was sent to Silverymoon alone on missionary work.  In route, he was lost in The Mists(TM) on the road and found himself in Ravenloft.  He was at first confused but someone quickly explained to him where he was.  He is certain that Kossuth himself has has given him a new mission, to gain converts for him and build a new temple for him, in this land.  He is a religious fanatic, but a friendly one.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Amorphis on October 21, 2009, 12:58:03 PM
 
Name:Amorphis Saturnus
Race:Human
Origins:Planescape
Faction:Athar "The Lost"
Description:
Height: 1.80 Weight: 75 Age: 28
Black Hair, One eye green the other black.
Distinctive characteristics: old self-inflicted wounds in several parts of his body
(Hidden by cloths ex.glove in his right hand)

Prior to Arrival:
Amorphis son of Omnoy Aeternus (Scripter of the Dead)(mother unknown).
The incurable illness... of his father together with his strong beliefs
about having an honorable and peaceful passage towards 'True Death' and
refusing further investigations about the nature and possible cure of his illness,
made Amorphis experience in a very tragic way the loss of his father at the age of 13.
As his father withered and disappeared from his life, Amorfis found himself
unwilling to keep up with the responsibilities passed on him from the faction. The
next step was to abandon his present reality and try to find his own answers.
His own answers towards the meaning of life and death,
towards his personal fears of becoming ill as his father (already has indications
of the illness).
Thus far apart from acquiring limited knowledge of the powers that governs
death and afterlife, his travels gave no answers. However, his beliefs towards
Agnosticism and Atheism increased (thus joining the faction of "The Lost"),
as well as his "eccentric" mannerisms (not to be described here but role-played ingame)

"Another road, another lost path" he thought...looking at the chairs leading
to an underground room of an almost completely ruined temple.
"Another hope forgotten, another dream shattered, faith is not for Gods" he
whispered as we cautiously walked down the stairs...the room was small and uninteresting
...
yet the mist gave his presence and the lands of the Dread
opened their shadowy hands to embrace him.

Upon Arrival:
Amorphis had no real difficulties getting used to the environmental conditions due
to similarities to his homeland.
Wondering around in the new land and a very limited interaction with the local
made him more secluded and isolated to his thoughts and worries.
However, his urge to find a link to this plane is still there, so is his urge to find
a link with himself.


Some Current Behavioral Tendencies:
1. Secluded and secretive in personal matters yet rather open in world/existential belief discussions.
2. Isolated in his thoughts yet quietly open in joining the company of others
3. Great Fascination in anything that might give him information/knowledge upon his inner drives.
4. Death experience results to great anxiety and discomfort.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Mailbox0000 on November 07, 2009, 08:16:47 AM
(My first post on the forum, yay~  :o )




Lofwyr Fetti

Origin: (Planescape) Sigil, City of Doors
Faction: None
Gender:  Female
Age: 23
Race: Human
Profession: "Locksmith" / "Cutter"
Build: Average height, Athletic build
Eyes: Light Brown
Hair: Light Brown (dyed black)


Background:
 Born to an alcoholic mother and nameless father in Sigil, Lofwyr did not grow up in a nurturing environment. Her father left her with only a name before leaving, and her mother was more interested in local affairs then raising a daughter, commonly disappearing for days at a time. On Lofwyr's 9th name-day her mother went out and did not return again, leaving her daughter to fend for herself in the voracious City of Doors. Lofwyr turned to petty theft and hunting small game to survive, relishing in a good self caught meal. After some years on the streets she was picked up by local thugs who took advantage of her young age and defenselessness, quickly setting her to casing potential places for robbery. She survived the first tenuous years and began to excel at the simple task, learning the ways of locks and gaining a more prominent role in the, by-then, gang. Though by no means a functioning "family", the gang gave her purpose and helped shape her early life (helping to form her horrendous gutter-speak). They began to rely on her for larger and larger roles and even hired her out as a specialist to those with the coin for it.
  
  Later found the gang in conflict with other gangs, Lofwyr was commonly involved in fights, and just as commonly lost them. The conflicts would escalate until people were being killed, as Lofwyr nearly was during a particularly bad one. After recovering she would go on to continue her brutal existence, becoming more competent over time. It is at this point in her life she learns the thrill of victory. Winning her first fight instills in her an obsession to become a formidable opponent. She becomes enamored with prominent fighters, seeking to emulate them and comes to enjoy the fight much as she enjoyed the hunt as a child. Reveling in victory and sometimes even defeat. This continued for years, all an escape from the weak thing she once was, and when she stopped to think, would feel she still was. Thus the cycle continued until she lie dying alone in some alley. The death noises of the others had long ceased and she knew she was alone. She lie thinking of how it came to this, and came by some regrets; she had never hunted good game as she had always wanted to. Never danced with someone, never loved someone. Never even had a friend. She closed her eyes and contemplated this all in silence. Until finally, "Boys," she thought, "who needs 'em?" The answer came immediately to mind, much to her amusement. "The dead-book." She said aloud to no one.

 She laughed. It was a strangled and gurgled thing, but it was a laugh all the same, echoing through the abandoned alleyways and sewers below as it gained intensity. Finally she choked and grew silent as blackness closed in around her, bringing with it a comforting numbness.

 Something had heard.


Description/Personality:
 She bears an amused countenance, along with her often ruffled hair and probing brown eyes. In all physical regards she is quite charming. Her walk is casual and she seems to be very lighthearted, commonly joking with others. She enjoys the thrills of hunting and fighting and is often much enthused whilst engaged in such activities. She is amused by the prospect of romance, having once seen it as a folly. Found all over her body are numerous light scars from years of street fighting and healing salve application. She appears to be attempting to correct some of her speech, repeating some words she has mispronounced.


 Currently:
 Lofwyr had no trouble acclimating herself to her new surroundings. In fact she was ecstatic to be anywhere but Sigil and her old life. She took to hunting mink for a long while before venturing forth from the Vistani to meet others in the outskirts of Vallaki. Her positive mood and energetic babbling helped her quickly befriend various others. Upon being offered an honest job with the Militia she jumped at the opportunity, eager to prove to someone, anyone, she was worth a damn. She also auditioned for a role in a local play, elated at the idea of being able to pursue an artistic endeavor. Landing the part, she now eagerly awaits her first rehearsal and, come time, the play itself. In the Militia she has found camaraderie with some as she has never known possible and alienation with others, who's in turn whimsical and sardonic natures leaves her overwhelmed and altogether lost on how to appropriately act.

She fears losing what she's never had before, friends.



 

 


 
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Wewill on November 15, 2009, 02:51:18 AM
Name: Birth name - Baro Kozma  Current name - None
Origin: Stary Oskol
Faction: None
Gender:  Male
Age: 20
Race: Human
Profession: Attendant
Build: 5'10 , Lanky
Eyes: Black
Hair: Red


Background:
Baro was born to a poor family in the town of Stary Oskol. Unfortunately his family could not afford to raise a child, so at the age of 6 Baro was given to the local Chest. The Chest was a place where orphans were brought to be groomed for their lives as attendants. Their training would, over time, strip them of their own selfish desires and needs to leave a person that is solely dedicated to the service of his fellow man. In this way they could repay society for the burden they had been to society in their younger life. To graduate from the Chest an apprentice attendant would have to erase his name from the local town records to prove that he had abolished his will and was ready to serve. Once their name was erased from the records they were tattooed with red ink to mark them as attendants then were released from the Chest and allowed to roam the town freely. Any person that was not an attendant could order an attendant to do almost any task but no person could ever claim an attendant to be their own.  Any food or shelter they received was given to them from the towns folk. They were never allowed to own anything except a pair of clothes and a few days supply of food. If they survived to old age they were allowed to return to the Chest and help instruct apprentice attendants.

Description/Personality:
Baro is a very neutral person that will not take a side on any matter, save those that pose an immediate threat to his life. Baro is a servant to all people and is not one mettle or question the affairs of other people.





Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: bloodandsoil on December 19, 2009, 02:37:49 PM
Name:  Thunor Woden
Origin:  Abeir-Toril, eastern Faerûn
Faction:  None
Gender:  Male
Age:  23
Race:  Human
Profession:  Unemployed
Build: Tall, Stout
Eyes: Light Hazel
Hair:  Dirty Blonde

Thunor Woden was born in a secluded monastery semi-hidden in the foothills of the Icerim Mountains, just north of the land known as The North Country.  He was trained in the Art of unarmed combat by Master Grimnir.   His physical training was often-times brutal, yet this violent training was always contained within a strict regimen.  He learned very little of the world at large, although his time spent transcribing manuscripts taught him to read and to write with formal excellence.

At age 18 a scavenging band of raiders overran the monastery, and killed many--including his parents.  Although the monastery survived, he secretly left and set out for the nearest city--Immilmar.  Traveling through the barren North Country, after days of grueling travel, he moved into a light mist that grew darker and danker.  As he wore on, the mist grew and he became mired in a sightless Fog.  Already near death, the Fog drenched him in a freezing wetness and his lungs choked on the thickness.  With great fortitude he lumbered forward, hoping to soon reach his first milestone--The Long Road.  Mercifully, the fog began to recede and he saw a dim light ahead.  He trudged forward and collapsed near a fire at a camp site of the Vistani in the Domain of Barovia.  Knowing nothing of the significance of his situation, he took shelter and bit by bit eventually learned of his doomed predicament.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: bloodandsoil on December 26, 2009, 06:26:55 PM
delete
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Green Monster on January 16, 2010, 10:11:19 PM
Tabitha Hendrickson

Synopsis/Timeline of the life of Tabitha Hendrickson


1350 Tabitha Sable Hendrickson born in Baldur's Gate. Father: Samuel Fabian Hendrickson, Merchant ship captain. Mother: Sable Greta Rothgen-Hendrickson, socialite daughter of a textile merchant.

1351 Birth of brother Benjamin Samuel Hendrickson

1358 - 1362 Tabby and Benjamin spend summers traveling with father aboard ship, learning saling, navigation, log-keeping, and spherical geometry (as well as some "colourful" language from sailors in father's employ) and spend winters, when seas are rougher, on shore with mother attending dinners and balls designed to further the family's social and business connections while her father sails the hazardous winter seas without his children. Tabby also learns dress design and the seamstress's art from her mother.

1363 Father lost at sea. Father's business partners disappear with the majority of the wealth of the shipping business. Then Tabby causes an accident that kills Benjamin. The shock of these events combined causes mother to become catatonic and be sent to an insane asylum. Tabby sent to orphanage.

1363-1364 Tabby suffers frequent sexual abuse at the hands of the orphanage's director, only ending when her body starts to mature into womanhood somewhat early, at which time he turns to younger girls in his charge, much to Tabby's great relief.

1367 After the abuse of the orphanage's director causes an emotionally fragile 14 year old girl Tabby had become friends with to commit suicide, Tabby poisons the director's tea with rat poison. He dies. Tabby remains at orphanage a further two months knowing that to run away immediately would be to draw suspicion and pursuit. When a new director finally arrives she lies about her age in order to leave.

1367-1368 Shares a small apartment with two prostitutes who were also former residents of the orphanage. Unable to bear the thought of letting people touch her, though, she does not pursue the same trade. Instead, she uses her intimate knowledge of the houses of her family's former merchant class friends to become a successful sneak thief; breaking in and stealing from homes she had visited as a guest many years before.

1368 Meets and falls in love with a young scribe who works as a book-keeper in a mercantile warehouse. He gets her a job in the same warehouse taking dictation and doing book-keeping.

1368-1370 Lives and works with her beau, visiting her mother as often as she can. Her mother continues to remain completely catatonic, unable to recognize her daughter or know anything about the world around her.

1371 Promoted to personal assistant to the warehouse manager, now making nearly twice as much money as her boyfriend. This wounds his pride and causes jealousy. Frequent arguments occur, baseless accusations of her infidelity, insinuations that her greater pay is a result of sexual favours rather than strong math and writing skills, et cetera. All hurtful and untrue. Tabby leaves him, then also leaves her job rather than continue to work in the same place as he. She takes her now substantial savings, pays one final visit to her still-vegatative mother, then leaves Baldur's Gate.

1371-1372 Travels with a merchant caravan group as a book-keeper, also using her good looks and natural charm to help the caravan master negotiate for goods and supplies. Likes and is liked by the group, but doesn't become particularly close to anyone during this year.

1373 Arrives in Arabel in the country of Cormyr. Excited by the political intrigue and upheaval of a city just recently ending a civil war, she takes her leave of the caravan and stays.

1373-1374 Proceeds to become acquainted with the various factions within the city, begins plans to infiltrate as many as possible in order to write a master thesis on the power struggles of a newly rebelled city. During this time she meets a female elf who prefers the company of women. Tabby is, over the course of a year, ardently pursued by this elf. Eventually, she is finally won over and engages in her first same-sex relationship. Very little progress is made towards infiltrating the factions in power in the city. Her face is too memorable to allow her to be much of a "spy".

1374 Persuaded by friends to help them investigate a haunted painting, she and they are transported inside a painting of a frozen landscape. After battling a legion of undead, Tabby survives by use of an invisibility potion. The others fall. Tabby escapes into the ice-encrusted plains, leaving the bodies of her friends behind to be devoured by ghouls. She thinks she hears one of her friends screaming, but she runs on anyway instead of turning back. A fog-bank rises around her as she runs, and she finds herself in the land of Barovia.


Present Psychological Profile

[edit: Updated to reflect changes in her personality that have occurred since her arrival through the mists]

She is highly intelligent, but often somewhat naive in that the opinions of others matter too much to her, she often exibits a nearly neurotic desire for the approval of the two most important women in her life (see last paragraph). Recently, though, she has grown more confident in her intellectual abilities as an event coordinator and manager, perhaps even over-confident. This is due to her recent successes in accomplishing tasks for Les Chats Noir and the praise she has gotten from her employer as a result. However, this confidence does not extend to other fields; she still believes herself to be 'absolute, bloody rubbish' in any kind of violent confrontation and generally feels completely useless in any kind of heroic endeavour. Because of this, combined with a bit of just plain cowardice, she avoids them unless she is trying to impress one of the two women she admires (again, see last paragraph).

Although very physically attractive, she has a very low opinion of her own appearance. She usually thinks of other women as automatically being more attractive than herself.

The romantic attentions of males makes her feel threatened and uncomfortable, though she tries not to show it, and in general she doesn't feel very comfortable around men; except for men who are happily married, or of very advanced age, of another race, or who are by reason of physical weakness and lack of guile "harmless". This is most certainly a result of her abuse at the orphanage. Confident, strong men frighten her (unless, as stated, they're old enough not to be a threat, or not human). Weak, insecure ones are endearing to her.

Her early duality of lifestyle persists to this day: when she's in Barovia, the rough-hewn wood of the structures and gruff nature of the natives reminds her of life at sea and so she tends to behave in a more free and liberal manner: often wearing trousers and occasionally using rough language. When she is in Port-a-Lucine she tends to behave like a lady: wearing long dresses almost all the time, being polite and diplomatic.

She is haunted to this day by frequent nightmares of the accident she caused that cost her brother's life and shattered her mother's sanity. She believes herself to be guilty of murdering her brother's body and her mother's mind, though she technically isn't. She feels no remorse whatsoever for her actual murder of the orphanage director.

She hates most native Barovians, seeing them as all being bigoted, illiterate, boorish, knuckle-dragging, superstitious morons that the world would be better off without. The fact that this technically makes her a bigot as well is something she lacks the insight to realize.

She loves art, fashion, and music, even plays guitar (though not very well), but her main passion is books. An aspiring writer, she dreams of becoming the most successful novelist in the realm. She doesn't try to hide this ambition, but she doesn't volunteer the information freely, either. She thinks most of her writing isn't good enough to show other people. Yet.

At the time of this writing, she is deeply and faithfully in love with Alana, the tiefling, who is the only person to whom she has confessed the whole truth of her history, although two others have heard the tale with the bits they wouldnt have approved of carefully left out. She has bonded to Caterina Fumosa, head of Les Chats Noirs, as a mother-figure (despite the fact that Caterina is two years younger than herself) that she eagerly strives to impress, seeing in Caterina a woman who is strong, wise, and outrageously financially successful. She is fiercely loyal to Caterina, but even more loyal to Alana who is also strong and successful in addition to being her lover.

Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Kallorth on January 18, 2010, 03:19:41 AM
Kallorth Hull was born in the village of Hultail (in Cormyr, Faerun), son of Morgan Hull, a farmer, and Alexia Faegürn Hull, a priestess of Oghma. His mother taught him and his brothers to write and read, since their early days. His older sister Lilath married a young merchant and moved to Suzail, and went on to establish a successful career in writing poetry. His younger brother Corister fled West, wishing to become a powerful wizard, and was never seen again by his family. Kallorth, on the contrary, lingered in his family farm for some years, selling the harvested goods for the villagers.

Like his brother, Kallorth flirted with the idea of being a mage and used some of his money to pay a tutor in the Arcane arts. His professor was Fractus, an old wizard who was said to be a spy of the Kingdom. But after some classes on the essence of magic and astronomy, Fractus announced he had to return to Suzail. Without enough money to pay another tutor, nor to have classes in another town, Kallorth abandoned the idea of being a mage and enrolled in the village's militia. In one year, he was responsible for watching Hultail's gates.

But wanderlust had stricken him and he felt the need to knowing more of his world. After a few months in the militia, he used his earnings to buy a sword, bid farewell to his parents and left Hultail. In two years he had visited most of Cormyr and the Dalelands, working as a mercenary.

While crossing the Mistledale, Kallorth met a local merchant named Sammil. They instantly felt attracted to each other, even though none of them had ever engaged in a same-sex relationship. Their affair lasted for a few months, when rumors about them started to spread. Fearing public humiliation and the end of his life as a merchant, Sammil asked Kallorth to leave, which he painfully did. He would never return again to the Mistledale.

In year 1374, he heard of a caravan which would depart from Shadowdale and cross Anauroch towards Waterdeep. Excited with the idea of seeing the City of Splendors, he assigned to escort the caravan. But as a sandstorm struck the group of merchants, Kallorth found himself lost amidst the desert. With the twilight, he soon felt the strange presence of the mists, which lured him into Barovia.

Kallorth is 24 years old, tall and strong, due to his training as part of Hultail's militia. His hair is completely white from birth. His parents could not explain the reason, and Fractus supposed that it could had been an effect of wild magic. His eyes are dark blue, and he has a handsome complexion.

Due to his frustrated interest in the arcane, Kallorth tends to talk in a poetic and philosophic manner, usually digressing about the reasons of his forced "exile" in Barovia and recollecting his life in Faerun and his family. He is curious and observant, eager to learn and adapt. He often writes poetry in his journal, which he rarely shows anyone. Having some skill in the Yarting (a kind of guitar), acquired in his early days, he considers becoming a bard.
Title: The Early Years of Jespe Illahax
Post by: Baron Saturday on January 18, 2010, 09:37:01 AM
A Description of the Circumstances Behind the Recent Acquisition of a New Servant

Her name, so far as I can make out, is Jespe. Her voice seems rusty from disuse, but I am confident that I can correct this given time. I have purchased the girl from a merchant in the city of Llorkh, where I was visiting an old friend. The merchant seems to have no idea of her real value: He was simply using her to polish the weapons he was selling to a fine shine so as to attract customers (On a side note, I must remember to return: He had a rapier which is missing from my collection).  The stupid old fool did not even notice her pocket one of his daggers. It is refreshing to see a girl willing to act towards her own goals rather than waiting for some fool in a tin can to clank to her rescue. I have little doubt that buying her has saved the merchant's life, and I suspect she will come in useful. I am not as young as I was, and a servant will allow me to focus on important matters. In time, she might even become a true student.

The merchant tells me that he purchased the girl from the Zhents, to whom her parents sold her some five years previous. I am told this is common practice in the Llorkh region: A poor farming family with too many daughters or weak sons, such as the merchant claims her family had, will often sell some of the younger children into servitude in order to feed the stronger, more useful members of the family. Well, their loss is my gain. As for the Zhents, I suspect that in their officiousness they took no notice of her beyond trying to break her will so that she would perform adequately. She was mainly used for simple labor - cleaning and suchlike, though it is more than likely that some of the Zhents may have had other uses for her. I am curious as to how she survived this ordeal as anything but a broken shell, for it betrays hidden depths of inner strength and a certain mental fortitude unusual in one so young.

So far she has proven to be both obedient and intelligent, though if she perceives me as a captor I suspect she will soon attempt to do to me what she would have done to the merchant. To win her, I must win her mind, her intellect - draw her in with knowledge and teachings. Fortunately I have plenty of both.

Oh, and I have given the girl a last name. "Illahax" - It means "the Unseen Hand" in the oldest dialect of my people. I return with her now to my manor near Waterdeep, to continue her training.

I have great hopes for this one.


- Excerpt from the journal of Lady D'Arque, first teacher of Jespe Illahax
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Vidraun on January 28, 2010, 10:44:00 AM
Vidraun Lai'Niril and his older brother Sigil Lai'Niril were born in the Underdark city of Menzoberranzan. Unfortunatly, due to Vidraun's light skin tone and Sigil's Half-Elven nature, they were both exiled. Their lives grew and they aged and trained in the forested lands surrounding a town called Loftenwood. Where they would barter, resupply and train. One evening on a ten man hunting party they were ambushed hill ogres. eight of the party members were slain, Vidraun received a concussion, Sigil managed to fend off the ogres to save his dear younger brother's life. After Sigil took Vidraun to the local chapel to see the nurse i was to their dismay that the concussion caused Vidraun to lose all memory of his childhood, his family and his past. He slowly regained some memory over time, like that of the knowledge of having an older brother: Sigil. He also is able to remember Menzoberranzan and the exilement. For fear of future trouble the two ventured, by boat, to unknown lands in uncharted isles and came upon the lands of Ravenloft. They now seek refuge and training so they can begin anew and show these new lands what Lai'Niril Truly means.
Title: Bio of Sileas Beneset
Post by: Beneset on March 12, 2010, 01:08:47 AM
Sileas' history ha
Title: Eireni Mareau
Post by: Eireni on March 12, 2010, 11:22:32 PM
Eireni's sparkling eyes are bright but pale in color, and her hair is a wild brunette tinted with reds like the desert sun. She is a young woman slight of stature who, at first appearance, is meek to the point of smallness. She defers to all strangers until they have made her comfortable enough to open up, and when she does she is bright and mischievous, quite the contrast of the blank and servile nature she presents. She speaks with the lilting accent of her native land, where she slaved to a wealthy military family. The Lord of the house, a renowned military man, and the Lady, a sickly-sweet sorceress, had a harsh brand of justice but were not generally unkind. Her life was not particularly eventful, and she made few good friends among her peers, who were often sold, killed or lost anyway. She was known to be quiet, well-behaved, and better-mannered, though she, like others, was saving for her freedom. The mist bought that freedom for her, and now she's at a bit of a loss as to what to do with it. As a slave, she learned many things, particularly of music, performance, and manners. She's very conscious of her manners, is little Eireni, but since suddenly arriving in Barovia, manners don't seem to be getting her as far as a good weapon might. Ah, well. She'll learn.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Boo on April 07, 2010, 12:32:54 PM
Name:  Talensaria Nevarr
Origin:  Faerûn
Faction:  None
Gender:  Female
Age:  Appears 19 but is 118.
Race:  Elf. (Fey'ri, if approved.)
Profession:  Unemployed
Build: Slim, normal height.
Eyes: Dark Hazel
Hair:  Dark Brunette

BACKROUND (For Fey'ri info.)

  She was born into a family of four, one that strived for power to get them off the streets they ended up living in, in the Port town Fraust they were at. Maybe.. if they werent poor, Talen wouldnt be so screwed up, but why was she?.. Well, her parents, and her brother suffering terrible poverty they tried everything to make some decent coin, but what did that end with? her father making shoes and her mother having to sell herself. They both tried- and did get enough income to atleast feed themselves and live, but they still wanted more.. they prayed for help from the gods and with no help, turned to cursing and hatred towards them- as her mother went missing mysteriously, a misty morning.. nobody seemed to care except Talen's brother and her dad..

A few months later, she had returned.. fully clothed as if she was going through a desert, and twice her size. The two obviously rushed to see if she was okay, and pummeled her with questions, where she had gone, and what happened. She whispered to them while holding her belly, and it was now obvious at this point.. she was pregnant.

They all werent really sure what to do- as one was enough trouble, but the mother kept reassuring them it would be fine and this child would bring hope to their family... WRONG. Many months later, Talen was given life and her mother died during labour because of many things.. mostly including she has a nasty tail that punctured one of her mothers organs while ..*ahem* there. Her father was deep in sorrow, that his wife's false hope for the mysterious child was in vain, and the child was nothing more then a Fey'ri. to live with a human dad, and a half elven brother, though seeming more as a omen for bad things to happen.. The father lost his job and her brother was struck with a bad plague at the time. Her father survived off of others scraps and with Talensaria.. though her brother died.. they were the only two of the family left.

Many, many years later, Talen's mind starting to shape smartly, even without any school. Was almost un-natural, and she soon learned to fend for herself, and to find a like and a dislike for certain things. One of the main things she liked was Musics, Art, dancing and theatre, though a hate for humans that mistreated her for her pointed ears, and caused her to have her hair cover them, and being a differend person from everyone else really hurt her, because she wanted to be normal.. but with her Fey'ri blood, and a tail, she couldnt.

Eventually her father died of old age and she had to fend for herself.. and she was actually doing well, she has a nice voice for singing and fluid movements with her elven grace for dancing, though she strikes more a ballroom interest, she never got to get training in dance classes as that was saved for the noble where she lived. So she decided to leave and fulfull her destiny, whatever that might be, and to find a place to call home.

(Will add more, if approved.)
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Ercvadasz on April 13, 2010, 02:00:46 PM
Name:Lexon Cutter
Origin: Eberron
Faction: None (was employed mainly by house Orien, had connections with Tharask and Kundarak)
Gender: male
Age: 25
Race: Human, unmarked
Profession: caravan escort, caravan guard, caravan escort
Build: tall, fairly well-built, stronger than average
Eyes: mid-light brown
Hair:depends on length of hair, dark-brown, long hair:mid brown

Background:
Was born in the city Stormreach at Y.K 787. He did not have much time to spend with his family. Both parents were pirates, that were killed in an early clash with the Galifar navy(Y.K. 795). The town (Stormreach) allready started to be acknowledged and noticed by some of the dragonmarked houses. They asked the Coin Lords for permission, to house  some of the children who lost their parents in the starting and continuing clashes with the galifar navy. They took in several dozen, maybe even a hundred orphans, whom they started to teach, and make faithfull servants of the dragonmarked houses. Lexon got in touch with the dragonmarked houses at the age of 10 in Y.K. 797 He had a good voice, so first house Phiarlan took him under his wings, but they recognised he is not devoted enough for pure entertainment, meaning he would only bring shame to the House. His talent with minor magical tricks was discovered during this time, but he was not gifted enough to be worth teaching by Phiarlans mages. Therefore he was given to other houses for tryout. House deneith refused him early, since he did not seem the kind of child, who would become a fierce warrior. He lacked the stregnth and the agility. Only house Jorasco, Orien, Tharask and Kundarak remained. All four houses tried his abilities, but only Orien, found a meaning for him. Since the town only got into the sight of the houses, trading routes were yet to be discovered and caravans needed to be protected.
Y.K. 799 Lexons studies started. They were astonished by his deductive capabilities, but could not realise how he was not possible to memorise spells, like wizards do.
It was discovered that his blood might hold some of the argonessens, which made him more valuable. Therefore more effort was put in his studies.
He gained much lore of the history of the world, the religions, he once even visited the old continent, to see the creations of House Cannith.
Y.K. 802 when the Galifar navy destroyed the pirate fleet, the houses openly moved in town. They did not take over, but everyone knew, there is nothing that can
be done without one house knowing about it. The first caravan routes were established mainly to nearby deneith outposts.
Y.K. 803 He was first sent out with a caravan, to see things for himself. He turned out to be a big help, since he was the one to discover a trap set by followers of
Vulkoor to gain weapons and armors that was to be delivered to the famous Stormcleave outpost. He was able to entertain his fellows by the campfire, and was
able to see through most deceiptons they encountered. Therefore he was put into caravan escort duty.
Y.K. 807. After dozens of successfull caravan escorts, where there were only minor losses and most times no casualties, he was promoted to be a caravan escort advisor,
whose word was to be taken into consideration.
Y.K. 812. He was leading a large cargo of weapons and armors, to the abandoned ruins of Threnal. A dozen Deneith mercenaries were there for protection along with
some Kundarakites whose job was to remove the wards from the boxes, after successfull delivery. Not far from the destination, just outside of the ruins, they heard strange noises and screams frightening the animals and folks. He asked four adventurers, they met along the way, to accompany him to see what might the cause be,
since Threnal was known to hold a cult to favour the realm of madness in ancient times, and so portals might be still active. What he found was a cave, with carves at its
entrance, and strange mist flowing out. Told the others to wait for him to explore, and if he does not return ask for help from the camp, he went in the cave.
The screams started to grow louder, while the mists got thicker. The tone of the screams rose and rose, untill it turned into a hysterical laughter, and than, the mists
suddenly disappeared, and he foundhimself, near a camp of strangers, who dress oddly.

Sidenote: he likes to drink, allthough he seldom gets drunk, and when he is on duty he never drinks. He does not feel embarassed near woman, since he never had any
problems gaining their attention.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Wewill on April 26, 2010, 03:25:10 AM
Name: Desharik Be'dwa
Origin: Eberron
Faction: None
Gender: male
Age: (Whatever half-elf 20 is)
Race: Half-elf
Profession: Mercenary
Build: Lean
Eyes: Brown with a hint of green
Hair: Light brown
Note able features: Desharik has a bunch of piercings on his face. Upon closer inspection each piercing is covering a scar.

Background:
  Desharik was born to a Valenar war chief and a slave women that was captured during raiding in Karrnath. Life was never easy since he was a born a half-elf, and his father decided that he would keep his mothers last name, Be'dwa. He was forced to grow up quick, mean and lean in order to defend his place among the warriors of his war band. Although he was never the best archer or fighter he was good enough to get by, but what was uncanny was his talent to tell a story. Being able to recount the tales of their ancestors or the exploits of another warrior from a recent fight made him a welcome guest on most hunting parties. Desharik was able to pass all trials of a warrior, though many times he would manage to in ways which were unusual.

Story:
  In order to be considered a warrior, Desharik had to perform a feat of his ancestors which involved slaying a giant. Unfortunately for Desharik the daughter of Coeliras, the clan's Keeper of the Past, had him in her eye. After a few nights of courting and merriment, Coeliras caught wind of the relationship between his daughter and Desharik. This caused quite a stir between the War Chief and the Keeper since Desharik was not yet a proper warrior in the eyes of tradition. The Keeper was able to win declaring Desharik a shame on their ancestors. Normally this would result in Desharik being expelled from the clan but his father was the clan's War Chief and he was given one month in order to complete his final trails. Before he left Desharik took some gold and scrolls from his father's collection and went to the port Pylas Maradal. He would bet his future off a story he had heard from some merchants about a giant that had taken to the sea.  

  Upon reaching Pylas, he quickly went about looking for merchant ships that were hiring guards and put himself on the wealthiest looking one he could find. During the first few days of his voyage he spent his time crafting the scrolls he had taken into his arrows. The process was difficult yet he received some unexpected help from a passenger on the ship. The women was a traveling musician who had been in Valenar to buy a horse and was now traveling to some grand city of towers.

  A week into the voyage luck finally came on Desharik's side and a pirate ship was spotted approaching fast with a giant at the bow. Though the pirate ship was smaller, it was faster, better armed and, depending who you asked, had a deadlier crew. When Desharik heard the bell ring and the captain yell for all hands on deck, he dashed from his room, ducking and dodging past frightened passengers, up onto the main mast. There he mounted one of the cross beams and to his surprise it felt similar to the back of a horse, a feeling familiar to any Valenar. He had just seated himself and notched his first arrow when the pirate ship rammed the merchant's and deployed it's grappling lines. The force of the impact nearly threw Desharik from his perch, but years of riding saved him from falling into the melee that was about to erupt on deck. This was unfortunate for the first of the pirates that had begun to jump aboard only to be caught by an arrow as foot touched the deck.

  The melee was merciless and bloody with no clear indication of who was winning. Desharik was able to fire off a few more shots and down some pirates before the Giant had finally decided to make it's move. Using a catapult on his ship he launched himself over into the middle of the melee, crushing members of both crews where he landed. The melee all but stopped for a moment as the Giant stood slowly covered in blood and as he made to roar an arrow struck him in the shoulder. Lighting exploded from the arrow covering the giant in a pulsing web of electricity. The giant screamed and snatched a piece of what was once a man, turning about with great speed. His eyes and Desharik's met for a moment before it hurled the corpse sending Desharik clear off his perch and into some smaller sails. As he was tumbling down the sail he pulled his scimitar stabbing it into the sail, desperately trying to slow his fall. He crashed onto the deck with jarring thump sending his weapons scattering about. The melee renewed itself with victorious screams from the pirates over their captain's accomplishment.

  Desharik regained his wits quickly and watched the Giant moving toward him with axed raised. He reached into his quiver for another arrow as the Giant swung it's axe, he rolled aside narrowly avoiding the blow and drawing his arrow as the axe hit the deck with such force it shattered, sending a volley of wooden shrapnel into Desharik's right side. Pulling it's axe from the deck, Desharik stabbed the arrow into it's arm. The Giant stumbled back and clutched it's arm as it turned to stone. Desharik stood, smiling as he could see his victory before him, but as he would soon learn, living up to ones ancestor is no easy task. The Giant looked down and smiling, picked up Desharik's scimitar which had scattered nearby. The Giant held out its arm and with one powerful swing cut it clean off. Tossing the scimitar aside and instead taking up it's own petrified arm it roared and charged forward.

  Desharik was stunned by the sight before him, left completely helpless as the Giant barreled forward. It swung it's petrified arm in a powerful arch that would have crushed Desharik's skull like a grape had something not pulled him flat against the deck. The Giant smashed the arm into one of the smaller masts shattering it violently. When Desharik regained his senses he saw a wicked looking blade before him where the mast was falling, he quickly grabbed it before rolling aside. As he scrambled to his feet a voice said duck. There was such a sure, cool confidence to the voice he obeyed without further prompting, once again narrowly avoiding death as a petrified arm soared overhead. He spun around still in a crouch and faced the Giant as it roared in anger. As the Giant raised it's arm, Desharik leaped from his crouch thrusting the wicked blade into it's neck. The blade shone for a moment and then the life in the Giant's eyes was gone. Desharik released his grip on the blade and the Giant fell backward onto the deck with a tone of finality.

 The remaining pirates became terrified as their captain fell and attempted to flee, there was no where to run. Afterward, Desharik retrieved his sword and took the Giant's head as a trophy. He then wearily joined in the cheers of the rest of the crew before turning and heading below deck for his bed. When he walked into his room there was a woman sitting on his bed. The traveling musician was smiling and before he could speak she asked if she could have her sword back. Desharik after a moment looked to the mysterious blade at his side and slowly held it out to her. She took it, which seemed to vanish as she did, and put a small pouch on his bed. She claimed it was payment for doing her work and quickly left the room, disappearing into the crowd of passengers in the hall. Along with the gold was a note which read:  "If you need a friend in Sharn, look for Talim d' Phiarlan."

  The rest of the journey was uneventful and when he docked, Desharik used his small wealth to purchase magical transportation home to Valenar. When he arrived he held his trophy proudly and said, "Let me tell you the story of Desharik Be'dwa."

// That story came out longer than I though. Thanks mailbox for the edit.

Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Mailbox0000 on April 28, 2010, 07:38:21 AM

 /// Accidental post.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Vegas on April 30, 2010, 05:44:13 PM
Name:  Crag Hack Kargaz
Origin: Kargaz Keep, Earthfast Mountains, The Vast, Northern Faerun
Faction:  None
Gender:  Male
Age:  62
Race:  Shield Dwarf
Profession:  Huntsman
Build: Wiry, Lithe (for a dwarf, that is)
Eyes: Slate Grey
Hair:  Reddish Brown


Second son of the third daughter of Crugeon Kargaz, Lord of Kargaz Keep, Crag Hack was destined for mediocrity. His older brother, Thorik, had already established himself to take over the forge run by thier father, and his older cousins had already had decades to begin their own political maneuvering withing the keep's stagnant hierarchy. Crag drifted through his adolescence aimlessly, trying to find a trade that wasn't already dominated by one of his older relatives.

It wasn't until the day his uncle's old adventuring companion came to visit that Crag discovered his calling. The middle-aged half-elf named Rhistel Shemov was frustratingly mysterious. Crag couldn't figure out the man's angle. Why, after all these years, had the huntsman decided to visit Crag's uncle, who was, by all account, not the most friendly person, even by dwarf standards. Crag took to following the half-elf around, trying to go unnoticed. Late one night, Rhistel snuck out of the keep through an out-of-service mine entry. Crag followed the best he could, but eventually could no longer find the half-elves trail. Disappointed with himself, Crag turned to return to the keep, only to walk headlong into Rhistel.

"Never, ever lose sight of your target, whelp. Especially a dangerous target." Rhistel held a blade at Crag's throat. The young dwarf fought back and eventually disarmed his assailant, but was caught completely by surprise when the cave vines themselves came to life, holding him in his place.

"You have a talent, Crag Hack Kargaz, of Kargaz Keep. A talent not seen among your kin very often. I have watched you watching me this past fortnight, and allowed my self to be followed, when you chose to follow. Mind you, I have not made it easy for you, but you stayed the course, and have proven your hunter's instincts." Rhistel and Crag talked at great length about the young dwarf's future, and what might lie ahead if he embraced the way of the huntsman.

Upon returning to the keep, Crag informed his family that he had decided to leave the clan's homestead and find his way in the outside world, to better diversify the skills of his family. Though hesitant to give up a strong back for the mines and a deft hand at the forge, his elders agreed to let him leave, at his uncle's urging.

Crag trained with Rhistel for many years, until the half-elf decided it was truly time to hang up his weapons and retire. Crag Hack determined that he would return home to visit for a few years before striking off on his own again to hone his skills.

After a warm welcome home, and nearly 2 years of the relative peace and quiet of the keep, Crag began to feel restless. He decided it was time to move on. He left the keep late one night, leaving a letter for his parents explaining he could stay no longer. He snuck out using the same abandoned mine entrance he had followed Rhistel through years ago. When he reached the surface he headed south, towards the Fire River and the Sea of Fallen Stars, not sure of his eventual destination. About a day's travel from the Hill of Tombs, Crag was enveloped in a strange, rolling bank of fog that came up out of nowhere...
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Crimson Shuriken on May 01, 2010, 12:53:15 AM
Name:  Jaucer Kevvan
Origin: Waterdeep, Faerun
Faction:  None
Gender:  Male
Age:  129
Race:  Moon Elf
Profession:  any odd job
Build: Short, Lithe, angular features.
Eyes: Blue
Hair:  Dark Navy Blue
Skin: Dusky

Jaucer comes across as brash, cocky and self confident. He tends to insult others even without trying, and it usually prevents him from making friends. He dresses in shades of blues and grays, and prefers loose fitting clothing. He is apt to wear lots of jewelry. He is rather passive and whimsical usually, but if he has a task at hand he pursues it doggedly. He has extremely sharp senses, even for an elf, and a knack for getting his hands on what others don't want him to. He puts up a tough exterior, but inside, he is a coward, and reluctant to engage in conflict without being given no other choice. He wears a rapier at his side, but a keen eyed observor can tell he is not comfortable using it.
He has lived his whole life around a cosmopolitan city, and is used to all manner of people from all walks of life.
Despite being an elf though, he is nearly xenophobic of the wilderness, especially when he does not know how to get back to the city or some form of civilization.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Vegas on May 12, 2010, 06:32:41 PM
Name:  Josephine Pineau
Origin: a small village on the outskirts of Chateaufaux, Dementlieu
Faction:  None
Gender:  Female
Age:  19
Race:  Human
Profession:  Conwoman/Aspiring Socialite
Build: Approximately 5" 4" tall, 115 lbs., average build, not overly athletic
Eyes: Blue
Hair:  Medium Blonde
Skin: Fair, but not pale

     Josephine Clavet was born to a family of on-the-outs aristocrats in Dementlieu. Her father, Pierre Clavet, had run a fairly successful shipping company for many years, working diligently towards securing his family's place in the upper-middle class of Port-a-Lucine, the capital of Dementlieu. Pierre's wife, Celeste Clavet, had bore him 3 healthy sons already when she became pregnant with Josephine. This was also when a shady business deal from Pierre's past came back to haunt him. Pierre had, years prior, accepted shipments from a captain who Pierre suspected was engaging in piracy, but he overlooked his concerns since the captain always seemed to come through with seasonal goods a week or two before any other ships made it into port. Eventually, the captain's true methods became known and he was arrested. In exchange for a lighter punishment, the captain named his accomplices, and Pierre was implicated in the scandal.

     Pierre claimed he had no idea that the captain was pirating his cargo, and since he had developed a good reputation among the other merchant families (especially those that were able to profit off the early rush of people looking for the products the captain brought in before anyone else could) and had made a few friends among the higher classes of the port, Pierre was not charged with any wrongdoing. The court of public opinion was not nearly so forgiving, however, and soon all of the Clavet's clients moved on to other, more "trustworthy" suppliers. Two of the Clavet sons, now nearly men, got into an altercation with the sons of a merchant looking to put Pierre out of business and claim his clients for their own. Against Pierre and Celeste's wishes, the boys agreed to a duel, hoping to defend their family's honor. The duel commenced, and the other participants cheated, having the Clavet boys ambushed by allies posing as innocent spectators. Pierre had had enough of the politicking of the capital, and was not willing to lose his wife, their youngest son, and their unborn child to the drama. He promptly liquidated all his assets and moved what was left of his family to a small village on the outskirts of Chateaufaux. Celeste was not happy with this move at all. The daughter of a fairly well-to-do merchant family herself, she was not prepared for the extreme change in lifestyle that small community living brought with it. When she gave birth to a daughter, she named her Josephine, after her own mother, a strong-willed, independent woman. Celeste swore to herself that her baby would not be doomed to a life of "squalor and worthlessness" and that someday she would know the joys of wealth and social popularity.

     This oath lead Celeste to raise her daughter to be self-serving and arrogant, but able to hide that arrogance when the situation demanded a more delicate approach. Josephine learned from an early age how to twist men and women alike to her whims, through the use of flattery, persuasion, or even seduction when she was old enough to be taken seriously. In time, Josephine grew into a charming and beautiful young woman. On the outside at least. Inside she was a tangle of emotions and motivations, all of which were selfish and resentful of the life she was denied by the pure luck of when she was born. She hated her father for putting her, her brother, and her mother into that position. She hated her brother for not being man enough to take over the family business so she and her mother could have still lived in opulence. But most of all, she hated her mother for being weak and not leaving her father when he ruined the Clavet family legacy.

     On her 19th birthday, Josephine decided it was time she left her poor, sad little family behind and make her own way in the world. Josephine gathered what supplies she could, stole some of her mothers dresses, and left, without a word of goodbye to anyone. She managed to convince a handsome young traveler whom she met in Chateaufaux to escort her to Port-a-Lucine, but they were beset by a bank of rolling mists their first night out. When Josephine awoke, she could hear the sounds of a camp nearby, and saw a campfire among what looked like... Vistani vardos...
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: InsaniD on May 31, 2010, 06:49:04 AM
Hepiron Colt A Tale of sarrow and pride
    Hep as most call him Since his return to his home and joining with the Militia. Not too many people know of his past life what he was like. So I will start from his known memory.
    Hepiron Colt was born the City slums where of Vallaki and was a troubled youth growing up always getting into trouble and hanging out with the older kids that hung out with his older sister Sandra Colt, which all the boys liked her cause of her beauty and warm smile. She always worried that Hep wa going to wond up beaten by bullies cause he small in stature and had " a little man complex". By age of nine his father was cutting wood to keep us warm some poorer people killed my father for the few fang he had in his pouch , Which hit young Hep hard but he knew he had to find a way to make fang for my family and show his momma that I am a big boy now. Years past and his momma arranged for Sandra to wed a man in a neighboring village who had money and Hep thought he would never see her again set out to find fame and fortune for him and his family.
   While I was gone I learn how to use weapons and follow game trails. After two years of being away from home I  had some fang missed my family and wanted to visit them and give them what fang I had. I came to my childhood hover to see no one was home and started to search for my family gone and none of the guarda knew of them or thought they maybe not alive. So I requested to be enlisted in the guarda but Sergent Belovich said I needed to train with the militia and I agreed to with my whole heart and soul. As time went on I started to look at the militia as my family but against the warning of my senior militia man Veltis I searched for my family at the dreaded hours of night to see if they walk amongst the damned. I prayed with all my heart I would not see them in the midst of the walking dead. One night while I was out thinking that I may see them I seen her a nasty Vrok, leach of life out with her minion seeking her next meal and she could not stand the garlic necklace I wore that was issued to me  my life's blood was not drank.
   Afew months later I saw a beautiful site a Cat that helped a man from a wof which I devolped a close bond with her. But I found out she was an Half elf native that was shun by her Father and we continue our close friendship thank you Lina you shown me that nature is trong as the might of steel.
Title: Zander DeVane
Post by: bidocks on June 29, 2010, 04:27:35 PM
A child was born in the Griffin tribe of the Uthgardt to Gregak and Ulcina.  Gregak being a challenger to the role of chief of the Griffon horde.  There is one other in line for the title, Berong, a distant cousin to the current chief, Lonken.  This child grows up to pre-teenage years among the Griffon Barbarians and is taught the ways of a warrior and the skills necessary to someday become chief.  He excels at all these lessons and the people come to love and honor him as the "Prince of the Griffons".

Lonken, on his death bed, charges Gregak with the title of Chief, though there is no one there to witness it, or so it is believed.  Berong has a spy in the bedchamber listening in to the conversation.  Upon Gregak's departure, the spy informs Berong and Berong attends to the dying chief with a smothering hand.  He then proclaims himself Chief of the Griffon Horde, by rights of the former chief and the witnesses present (of course all agents of Berong).

Chaos ensues in the tribe, with a rift forming over Gregak and Berong being the rightful chief.  In true Uthgardt fashion, a challenge for the throne is issued to Gregak and Berong.  A simple and fair fight is not good enough for Berong however and he slips poison into Gregak's meade before the fight.  Not strong enough to kill him outright, but weaken him.

Of course, during the fight, Berong wins, easily.  Gregak is brutally beaten and eviscerated, his lifeless body ruined further by dismemberment and burning.  The child was there to see the whole thing, including the poisoning.  It seems his skills of spying and sneaking are quite good after all.  After the fight, Berong adds insult to his win by taking Ulcina to his hut and forcing himself on her, all in front of her child.  Mortified by the entire experience and losing her husband, Ulcina commits suicide.

Berong claims the child as his own son, in an attempt to quiet and pacify the horde.  He begins brutally training the boy to become the greatest warrior of the horde, unfortunately, the boy will not accept the tutelage, but instead forced his hatred deeper and deeper into himself.

After many attempts to warn the elders of the horde and try to explain the situation to no avail, the boy confronts Berong.  He threatens Berong with complete exposure of his acts.  Berong laughs at him and draws his ax.  A duel ensues and the boy is beaten, but not without getting in some hits, one of them blinding Berong in one eye and disfiguring his jaw to the point he now has a speech impediment.  The boy escapes death, and leaves the horde, never to return.

Now part child, part man, the child escapes to the wilderness east of Waterdeep, where he wanders for months, hunting for food, and occasionally taking what he can from bandit's purses and chests.  On more than one occasion, his prowess in battle was tested by a wary brigand, yet the boy thrived and grew stronger.

One fateful day, the boy was sitting near a stream, resting and contemplating his next move when he heard a rustle in the bushes.  He jumps to his feet with a start to see..... nothing.  He scours the area looking to find the source of the noise, only to have it always just out of his reach.  Then he stops, taking a moment to catch his breath.  From his side he hears a giggling, from a girl.  Quickly he turns, but sees only a flash out of the corner of his eye.  He pursues the noise, only to find himself lost in the woods with night quickly approaching.  A voice says "don't be afraid, I wont hurt you".  To which he replies, "I am a warrior, I fear no one, especially a girl in the woods".  He hears another giggle.  She responds back with "Oh I know!  you are a powerful warrior, I have seen you".  He is surprised and intrigued by this.  She then steps forward into a shaft of moonlight, illuminating her features.  It is a young elven girl, apparently out to torment a young warrior.  She smiles and says, "I am Eloine, what is your name".  He replies, "I have no name, it has been taken from me", she says, "Everyone has a name, surely you do too."  He shakes his head and will not say any more.  "Come with me"  she says, "It's dangerous at night".  He follows her for what seems like hours through winding forest with seemingly no particular path in the dark, led only by her hand holding his.  He trips and falls several times, and of course she finds this endlessly amusing.  Finally they arrive at a great wall, that reaches in each direction.  The girl leads him to a part of the wall, touches it, and walks through.  The boy stands in amazement.  She comes back through what he can now see as a sort of door in the wall and takes his hand again to pull him through.

They walk along winding streets lit by what appears to be dust simply hanging in the air.  His jaw dropping and his eyes bulging at the sights around him, Eloine pulls him along.  Eventually they reach a fine looking home and Eloine drags him inside.  They are greeted at the door by Prionde, Elloine's mother, who disapprovingly looks at Eloine's dirty clothes and the stranger she has brought into their home.  Eloine, slightly regretful, says, "I was in the woods and found him Mother, he was all alone, and scared".  The boy glares at Eloine, crosses his arms and says, "Was not", to which she replies, "was too!".  Prionde laughs playfully and says, "well, we can't have that now can we".  She brings them into a large sitting room, lit by candles, and graced on one wall by a large elaborate fireplace.  In the corner, in a chair, reading a book is an Elven man, looking young for his age, and strong.  He lifts his gaze as they enter the room.

Prionde announces to him, "dear, Eloine has brought home a.... friend."  He raises an eyebrow and studies the boy, then rises to his feet and approaches them.  Prionde introduces her husband as D'eldor, and asks his name.  The boy states with confidence, "I have no name, it has been taken from me.".  D'Eldor, confused at this, replies, "One's name can never be taken boy, it is yours and yours alone".  The boy replies, "Well mine was".  D'Eldor is apparently amused and slightly impressed with this human boy and says, "Then we will have to name you.... again.  Then you will always have a name that cannot be taken away".  He ponders for a moment and remarks, "I once knew a human man named Alexander, he was a fine man, strong and sharp of wit.  That should be your name as well, young boy."  The two women smile and nod at this, seemingly in agreement.  The boy, indignant and stubborn of course shakes his head, and replies, "too long, and I think it sounds silly.  How about Zander?".  D'Eldor chuckles and says, "Zander it is. What of a surname?  Don't all humans have them as well?"  Eloine chimes in with, "He is very proud, maybe we should call him Vain."  Zander glares at her again.  Prionde, states,"he may seem proud on the outside, but he is also hiding more than we know on the inside, so he is not so vain after all.", to which D'Eldor replies, "Then he is de-vained", and chuckles slightly.  Eloine says, "That's it!  DeVane!  he shoud be Zander DeVane!"  Zander seems to think about this very carefully, then nods his agreement, and with complete confidence states, "Mister D'Eldor, I am Zander DeVane, it's nice to meet you."  And so he became known in this city of Evereska as Zander DeVane.

He lived with D'Eldor, Prionde, and Eloine for several years all the while spending much time with D'Eldor learning the ways of their people and their language.  He had great trouble with the language for he is but a simple man, and I call him a man for he is now nearly sixteen years old, a man in human terms.  He eventually learns their language, and spends a great deal of time speaking to anyone who will listen to him in Elven, just to show off his skill. 

Eventually he meets some of the Elven guard, and he convinces them to train him to fight like an Elf, in return, he will teach them some of the style in which he was trained.  They really couldn't care less about his style, but decide to mock him by training him in the longbow and various fighting techniques, surely expecting his utter failure.  Much to their dismay, Zander turns out to be an excellent student and learns to use a longbow nearly to the same ability as his Elven peers, his surefootedness in melee combat is quite impressive as well.  He masters the longsword quite quickly, but finds it...... lacking for his tastes.

He has earned the respect of the Elven Guard, and his adopted city of Evereska.  In time he is accepted nearly the same as any Elf would be.  He makes friends with many of the guards and the militia.  But his closest friend is Eloine, his adopted sister, and they spend much of their time exploring the woods surrounding Evereska.

D’Eldor, being the wise man he is, sees Zander as a good man, and a good companion for his daughter.  Not in any sort of romantic way, but more a protective brother.  He also can’t help but notice that Zander does not seem truly comfortable with the longsword he was given by friends in the militia.  One day he brings Zander aside for a talk.

D’Eldor compliments Zander on his achievements even in the face of mockery and prejudice by the other Elves.  He states that Zander should be very proud, few humans have achieved this level in an Elven community.  “You have done my friend Alexander proud.” He smiles.  D’Eldor also says he can’t help but notice that Zander doesn’t really like the longsword given him for practice and defense.  Zander replies, “Its fine, but I learned to use a large ax as a boy and that is still with me, I”m afraid.”  D’Eldor muses for a moment, and says, “I need to keep reminding myself you are not an Elf, you have greater strength and size, you deserve a weapon fitting these abilities.”  Zander, apparently slightly confused by this looks to D’Eldor and asks, “What are you proposing?”  D’Eldor merely smiles and says, “Come with me, my son.”  He leads him out of town into the woods to an old looking house with an attached workshop.  A quick knock on the door and they are greeted by a dwarf, yes, a dwarf, a seemingly very old one as well.  The dwarf yells, “What the hells?  Who the heck disturbs….. oh!  Master D’Eldor, my apologies.”  D’Eldor introduces Zander to his old friend and master blacksmith Niorin.  Niorin sizes up Zander and asks what he needs.  D’Eldor explains the unique situation and asks Niorin for a special weapon for his “son”.

After some thought and some measurements of Zander’s height, arms, etc., Niorin comes up with an idea.  “I can make him a very large version of your longsword, Master D’Eldor, this way he can use the skills of the elves with the brute force of the axes he knows to use.”  “Perfect!”, D’Eldor replies.  Zander smiles and nods at this new prospect.  They leave the dwarf to his work, though Zander returns day after day to watch Niorin work and show his impatience to get his hands on his new weapon.

And so it was that Niorin forged a great sword for Zander to have as his own personal weapon.  Zander still came to the forge to watch Niorin work and over time made slight but useful changes to this weapon and his armor to make them more befitting of his personal fighting style and tastes.

Two more years pass with Zander becoming more and more comfortable in his surrounding of the Elven city.  He and Eloine now go on adventures together rather than just romps through the forest.  Zander proves himself to be most resourceful in the wilds, his skills of survival are top notch.  Eloine has taught him much, and they together make a great team, uncovering lost caves and some semi-valuable items along the way.

On one of these adventures, in the night, Eloine and Zander are attacked by human bandits.  They are outnumbered three to one.  Zander manages to dispatch four of the invaders only to turn around and see the remaining two holding Eloine with a knife to her throat.  One of them sneers, “What ya doin’ wit this here elven maiden there boy?”  Zander moves forward to attack then stops suddenly when the man pulls at Eloine’s hair to expose her throat that much more.  “One more step boy, just one more!”  Zander snarls through his teeth, “Do NOT touch her!  Or I will KILL YOU!”  The remaining bandit is already holding up a rucksack which he is searching through for anything valuable.  The other says to him, “Anything?  They got to have something, find it!”,   then to Zander, “OK, lets make this easy, gimme all your valuables, and I let the elf live”  Zander sheathes his sword, and pulls out a pouch from his belt, containing gems and a few pieces of rare jewelry.  He tosses it at the brigand’s feet.  “Ha!  I knew it was here somewhere!”  The bandit replies.  The bandit with the bag promptly drops what he was doing and snatches up the pouch.  “Now, let her go!”  Zander states.  “Sure, I’ll let ‘er go…” the bandit sneers and slashes Eloine’s throat clean open.  “NOOO!” Zander screams and goes into a rage, drawing his sword and cleaving the man in two.  At this the other bandit runs off into the forest with the pouch in his hands.  Zander puts his sword back in its scabbard and draws his longbow, and quickly puts two arrows into the man’s back, dropping him like a stone without even taking another step.

Zander then drops to his knees over Eloine’s body, and cries.  He has failed her, he has failed all of them, Prionde, D’Eldor, Niorin, even his mother and father.  He passes the night crying at her body.  When the sun rises, he carefully wraps her in clean blankets, picks her up and carries her back home, all the way, punishing himself for his failure.

Upon arriving in Evereska, some two days walk from the attack, Zander is greeted by friends and neighbors who seem horrified at the sight.  Apparently Zander, walking for two whole days while carrying Eloine looks more worse for wear, with bandit blood still caked in his hair and on his hands and clothes.  He says nothing, and simply trudges toward D’Eldor’s house with his head held low.  D’Eldor and Prionde are already outside upon his arrival, word travels fast in this city.  Prionde gasps and puts her hand to her mouth and begins to cry into D’Eldor’s shoulder.  Zander approaches them and places Eloine at their feet, kneels, and says, “I have failed you Father, I am truly sorry.”  D’Eldor places a hand on Zander’s shoulder and says, “From what this appears and what I know of you, most would not have come back from whatever tragedy has befallen you.”  Zander says nothing, still keeping his head low, tears streaming down his face.  Prionde, through her tears, says, “Zander, you are our son, we do not blame you for this.”  Zander still says nothing, but stares down at Eloine’s body, his muscles tensing and he clenches his jaw.  D’Eldor, places a hand on each side of Zander’s face to raise it up so he can look at him, he can see the pain in his eyes.  Zander says, “I have failed you, I will never fail you again.”  D’Eldor says, “We all fail, my son, it is how we learn.”  “I will never fail you again, because I cannot stay any longer.  You have been kind to me, and I have caused you to lose your daughter.  I must not stay here any more.  I am sorry.”  Prionde puts a hand to his cheek and says, “If you leave we will have lost a son and a daughter today, Zander.”  “I cannot stay.”  D’Eldor speaks the final words Zander will hear from him, “You are always welcome here, my son, you will always be my son.”  At this, Zander rises, turns, and walks away, never turning back.  He leaves Evereska, and heads into the wilderness.

Some time passes and he still punishes himself for Eloine, he also makes a habit of killing every bandit he sees, with a rage so strong, none can withstand him.  His prowess with the Greatsword and longbow is amazing and his survival skills, superb.

One day, on a hunt of a large stag, Zander happens upon an area of land he has never seen before, he races through it after his quarry.  All around him, a fog forms, yet he keeps running.  Suddenly, he is struck down, unconscious to awake in another place, nothing like where he was before……
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Nemien Callishan on July 18, 2010, 08:02:41 PM
Ellyn Wayburry

Cullen Wayburry was a well respected cavalry officer in the army. When he heard the news that his wife was pregnant he became extatic. He was going to have a son and nothing anyone else would say could convince him otherwise. He was so proud of his young wife that he took months off duty to be with her, chrishing every moment of the baby's developement.

When she came to term, however, it was clear she would not survive the ordeal of childbirth. As the midwifes tended to her and the baby broke her body, officer Wayburry sat outside in the hallway waiting for his son, the child who would compensate him for his wife's loss.

And then the midwives told him it was a little baby girl. Cullen was devastated. In time he came to reconcile himself with fate but he had always wanted a boy and wasted no time hiding the fact from his daughter who he named Ellyn after her poor departed mother.

Ellyn's father owed money to the Delsenine Trading Company. When his wife was pregant the doctors fees he incurred rendered him unable to keep up with his regular payments so the Delsenine family bankrupted him. Broken by the death of his wife Cullen Wayburry retired to a small house in the country where he sought to bring his  daughter up as the son he never had. She did her best to please him but couldn't fulfill his unrealistic expectations. He kept on pushing and pushing her with physical exercises most boys and men could not hope of achieving success in. She went along with it all because he was pleased when she achieved stuff and she desired his love. She did her best to please and all the training she could force herself through but got fed up with all the put downs and lack of praise.

As she grew into her teenage years Ellyn's father tought her nothing of womanhood. In fact, her first experiences of the differences between man and woman were at the hands of some local labourer in the barn, and she didn't like it. It was pathetic, surrendering and she would have lashed out had her father not burst in upon them. He berated her most severely calling her a pathetic weakling who would never be a true soldier (and worse things).

Heartbroken at having let him down she fled his iron rule to live her own life. She probably refuses to believe that he pushed her too hard. Just thinks she's not good enough for him.

After some thought she feels she's failed all his expectations of her and so she's trying again for herself to prove she's just as good as he wanted her to be. Then when she gets home he can see that she's exactly what he wanted.

Whilst she distrusts all magic she also knows that she's not man enough for him and it's possible that she's rash enough to try and change that any way she can. Of course if she ever did become a man she'd feel uncomfortable inside a strange body. She'd have real problems with people expecting her to fancy men (in fact maybe it was an intimate moment with a man that caused her rebellion). Due to the heavy emphasis on physical workouts she'd probably be extremely awkward in any sort of intimate situation or fail to understand it. She'd see it as being weak and letting someone control her body when she's always been tought to fight. She probably feels like a failure so she doesn't have to be boasting and self assured.

She tends to dress in armour and march about with a helmet tucked under her arm. The basic premise is to play a female fighter that actualy gets treated like a female fighter (with all the insults, jokes, "camp follower" associations and not being taken seriously by anyone but herself). She takes it all on the chin (but it should still keep coming).

The optional idea:

It is quite possible that, feeling a failure and impatient for success, she might enter into some demonic pact with an otherworldly being in exchange for "power". The powers granted to her would most likely not be warrior skills (more along the lines of persuasion and stealth) and she would feel jilted by this, but trapped within her promise, she would feel cheated once again by cruel fate. She may eventualy grow to find uses for any powers granted to her but would not immediately understand how they might help her.

She could work equaly well as a plain old fighter 'though (albeit one who'll subtly inquire as to wether any wizard she meets knows a spell to turn her intoa  man permanently, idealy that should never happen, or at least take a very long time, for if that goal is taken away from her she wouldn't really have much motivation left for anything). She comes from a world where magic is not very widely accepted, and often shunned, but she's foolish enough to inquire anyway. She is well educated (her father wanted to raise a cunning militarily minded son after all) but her sheltered upbringing makes her a bit innocent regarding the trickeries and falsehoods of devious folk out in the big wide world.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Onkel Bob on July 20, 2010, 04:34:00 PM
The description of Ayrissa:

*Rewriting in progress*

OOC: She looks very much like her portrait. You can download it here: http://nwvault.ign.com/View.php?view=Portraits.Detail&id=4996

And here's some suitable soundtracks too: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vZ-yYuIK4Ao&feature=PlayList&p=CAFB3D632ECCE98B&playnext_from=PL&index=14&playnext=1 and http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9w6dyHStXnM&feature=PlayList&p=CAFB3D632ECCE98B&playnext_from=PL&index=0&playnext=2
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Crimson Shuriken on September 11, 2010, 05:12:35 AM
Name:  Khathoq
Origin: Skuld, Mulhorand, Faerun
Faction:  None, formerly of the House of Thoth
Gender:  Male
Age:  23
Race:  Mulan, Aasimaar
Profession:  Scribe and Entertainer
Build: Thin and wiry, shaved head.
Eyes: Unnaturally golden, and it is a sight to behold
Hair:  Black
Skin:  Dark Tan

Khathoq is a very social man, though he strikes a very contrasting appearance. He is a pacifist, and it takes a lot to bring him to violence. Nothing pleases him more than sharing an odd bit of knowledge with another in exchange for a tidbit of lore or two in return. He is a very artistically inclined being, finding inspiration for poetry, song, or riddle in just about any situation.  His greatest fear is that no one will relate to his music or stories since he is so different from who he is trapped here with.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Montreux on October 07, 2010, 08:49:30 AM
...
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Genesismaster on October 25, 2010, 10:29:36 PM
Claude Rougemont

Bio: (None actually... my english is not quite good to write it now)

Portrait (Safe) http://www.mediafire.com/file/4zqs0rbqhjq9vay/Portrait%20Claude.rar (http://www.mediafire.com/file/4zqs0rbqhjq9vay/Portrait%20Claude.rar)

(http://img43.imageshack.us/img43/8301/claudew.th.jpg) (http://img43.imageshack.us/i/claudew.jpg/)
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: SebastianDeMontfort on November 01, 2010, 11:33:29 PM
Name: Sebastian de Montfort
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Origin: Suzail, Cormyr, Faerun

Eyes: Ice blue
Hair: Dark brown
Height: 1.78m
Weight: 59kg

Profession: Knight Errant (Fighter)
Social class: Nobility, Lesser
Marriage Status: Unmarried
Moral code: Chivalry (NG)
Faith: Lathander


Sebastian was born to a prestigious family, though he never knew his own parents; his mother having died when he was young and his father having disappeared. He was raised by his grandfather Bernardo, who taught him to be a gentleman and a hero in both word and deed. He lived his live believing in this code, hoping that one day he could prove himself to the world. As he grew older, he learned the ways of knighthood-- how to wield a blade, how to ride, the proper methods of addressing a superior, courtship... his life seemed perfect, and he dreamed of one day  becoming a hero of great renown.

His dreams were shattered, however, when he learned the secret behind his grandfather's prosperity-- he was a slaver, dealing specifically in elves to do anything from mere layman's work to more... inappropriate tasks. His father, Jean-Luc, was a half-elf and had been driven out, resulting in the death of Sebastian's mother, Teresa. After a heated confrontation with his grandfather, he found himself on the run from his grandfather's guards, who, he knew, had been tasked with silencing him.

Soon enough he found himself in an area of the forest he had never visited, and though the mist seemed to gather at his feet, the sense of dread was more than he thought he could stand... until he awoke to find himself further away from home than he could have ever imagined.

Sebastian's views of right and wrong are incredibly straightforward, though he is not quick to judge. A human can be just as evil as the foulest of demons, so to base one's opinion off how they seem is unfair, and goes against his belief that people are good until proven evil.

Sebastian's biggest weakness, however, is fear. He is in a place he does not understand, surrounded by things that should not be; his family has deserted him, he has no acquaintances in this new world, and though he is a knight, he has not the unshakeable faith of a paladin or cleric, for how could the gods allow a land such as this to exist? Still, if he is to become a hero, he must blaze a trail of righteousness through the dreaded lands known as Ravenloft. If he is to return home, he must be strong.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Sarkie on November 16, 2010, 06:21:29 PM
Character: Amadeus Xemelenos

         The headmaster had called him to his office, and Amadeus went expecting to finally get an accommodation for his innate talents and obvious ability. No, as it turned out, the headmaster just wanted to send a student to go play fetch in the woods. Some stupid flower. The best part of course was that Amadeus was expected to do this in the dead of night, yes, the headmaster had sent slaves to awaken him in the dead of night so he could tell Amadeus "Go fetch me some flowers!" Sure, that was bad enough, but it was the fog that really got to him. Marching through it as he was he wasn't particularly sure where he was going half the time, and he certainly couldn't find any flowers, so he finally decided it might be best to just head back and face the wrath of the headmaster. Probably a test anyway. Except for the fact he had no idea which way that was... and the strange hooded figure staring him down wasn't particularly comforting either... it was right about then that something knocked him unconscious.

        When the mist cleared he found himself standing behind a small shack of an inn. Exactly what had happened he couldn't be bothered to tell you, not the least of the whys being he had no earthly clue. Not really. Oh he had a theory yes, after all he was a Red Wizard! A powerful man born of a noble house of Thay and a student of an academy besides. He studied under the great Szass Tam, the most powerful Zulkir in all of Thay. He was not to be trifled with.

       Or at least that's what he was telling himself at that very moment to stave off the stark terror creeping into his spine as the realization of his situation slowly sank in. Truth of the matter was he was merely a bastard son born of a noble's indiscretion with a foreigner from the sword coast who was shipped off to one of Tam's proxy academy's with the explicit hope that he would somehow die. He saw Szass once, yelling at a headmaster before killing him. He had no earthly idea what the dispute was about, and he didn't really hear much from the safety of floor underneath his desk two rooms over. At least this place, wherever it was, had inn's, and by association, booze. He entered the inn cautiously enough and noted a few locals enjoying brews already, each of whom gave him suspicious glares. Pretty much standard for a red wizard. He might have to think about finding some not-so-red robes at some point.

     "Fancy dress... going to a wedding? Whose the lucky man?" one of the locals asked in an insulting tone.
      Amadeus scrounged his nose and furrowed his brows, "Dress? Sir this is a robe. Entirely different!"
     "Are you are a priest then? Fools..." the local muttered.

      Well that sells it, Amadeus thought to himself, these people don't even know a Red Wizard when they see one! Probably a good thing, he decided with a little extra thought.

     "Yes I am a priest," Amadeus confirmed, "Doing... charity work. Charity needs beer though, yes?"
The local grinned, "I heard that."

     So there was Amadeus sipping beer with a peasant from some foreign land pondering his situation. He'd have to get his bearings quickly, because if there's one thing Amadeus learned thoroughly from his time at the academy, ignorance was the quickest path to death. Especially if your ignorance resulted in you stepping on the wrong toes...

     Well there was one good side to all this. Being away from the Academy, hell from Thay, meant that he had some room to learn and grow in power on his own. It meant he had a chance to become a power himself. So now he had a list of objectives! Ah yes, plots and schemes grow in their complexity and nuances every second after all, this was the way the world, no, the universe worked! By the bells of the hells, the multiverse even! Amadeus would become a master of his craft here, after reading the appropriate paperwork and learning the local politics, and then return to his academy a master.

...that is if he could get used to the incessant smell of the lowborn peasants and frigid cold....
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Geiger on January 11, 2011, 02:31:57 AM
[blankt]
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: INSTINCT92 on January 26, 2011, 01:18:21 PM
Name:  Goon Velkoos
Origin: Faerun Isles
Faction:  None
Gender:  Male
Age:  24
Race:  Half-Orc
Profession:  Ranger/Woodworker
Build: Approximately 7" 5" tall, 320 lbs., Muscular, Broad shoulders
Eyes: Dark Brown
Hair:  Shaved Head, Dark green goatee style beard
Skin: Tinted dark green
Scars: Many littered on his flesh, One massive gash scar across his face from above his left eye to the lower right of his neck.

Being large in size even from birth due to the traits passed on in the genes from his Orc father, Goon's mother died at birth. Distressed, his mothers relatives took him in- though it took them time to recover from the shock of the Orc blooded child. For they did not know that the Orc raids earlier that year was the cause of Goon's Conception. He was raised, if you'd call it such, Being made to do the hard chores such as hauling heavy sacks at a very young age, being more treated as a servant than as family. They did not mean to, but his human family shunned him, for both his heritage and blaming him for their sister’s death. For these years and a few after Goon had no name. Merely being referred to as Orc, or Boy.

Despite his family’s wishes they had to let Goon out of the home, lest his rambunctious orcish nature lead him to break things when his temper was pushed too far. Though this pushing his whole life could lend itself to Goons unique calmness/patience for his race. The other children and families would abuse him in the street.. He pushed on a few more years. Being of his blood, He aged faster than the humans, hitting maturity at the age of eleven he broken out of his locked room amidst the night and left for the wilderness.

This is where he decided to take upon the insult 'Goon' as his name, he roamed the woods for a couple months before happening upon a small tribe of orcs with whom he managed to prove himself useful to- Though young, and weak in comparison to the orcs, He had wisdom which he used to aid the tribes leader. Learning Orcish from one of the tribes shaman. For these many years he worshiped Gruumsh, though not taking on all of the deites dogma, not finding himself wanting to kill elves or dwarves- He took Gruumsh as more of a god of war, and strength- trying to push himself and having a want to spread shunned like him across the plains giving them a place to call home.

He gained strength- and unlike his orcish family he learned to use a longbow, keeping melee as a secondary survival option. His skills soon outweighed even the tribes chief, so Goon left to roam north amongst druid groves and learnt the unique skills of Rangers- He spent a good few years bringing this skill to it’s peak, travelling with his hound Rex. He slept in the wilds, under the stars, lived amongst the animals.
Not long after He caught wind of an orc tribe, said to have attacked his human families village.. months before he himself was born. Something deep inside, some inner rage- even at himself pushed him to track this tribe and eradicate them.. For his mother. Though he had never met her, some blame was felt, amongst strong feeling.

He tracked them with his new found ranger skills, and from a distance picked many orcs off outside their cave with a hail of large arrows. He understood their words- Their leader. Goon’s father was the tallest and most muscular of orcs- littered in scars wielding two great sword with ease.. Goon saw this, but pushed on. The battle raged for hours, Goon took severe wounds that almost killed him- including the large one across his face. But in the end an arrow did pierce Yuklagh’s skull and the giant orc fell.

Taking time to recover he continued to live his ranger life- not being as shunned by druid types as much as normal society. A few years of relative normality- for him at least settled.. When one day this mist rolled in.. and he got separated from his hound.....

[[First Post, Hi]]  :fonzie:
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: WildPirate13 on February 08, 2011, 12:40:12 PM
Name: Jador O'Ryan
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 32
Origin: Eireland, Gothic Earth 1500 appeared in Barovia in 1532  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tudor_conquest_of_Ireland (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tudor_conquest_of_Ireland)
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Dark brown
Height: 5'11
Weight: 190

Profession: OCC Scout for the Holy Catholic Church of Rome IC Hunter, tradesman
Social class: Serf
Marriage Status: Divorced by Catholic Law writ.
Moral code: Taoist
Faith: Agnostic openly. Taoist.
Training: Scout by local militia in Limerick, Trained by Osagan Tanaka in Chito Ryu in rome.


"doing this during lunch break please keep that in mind  ;)"

Character background:  Born to a trademan family that specialized in barrel making three generations. Joined the conscripts shortly after his 20th day of birth. Later recruited by the Vatican as a scout for events involving mysterious events. Leading him to the mists.

  
 
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: ActuallyAgirl on February 08, 2011, 02:43:38 PM
Name: Elle, Seamstress extraordinaire
Race: Appears Human
Gender: female
Age: Appears between 25 and 28
Origin: Yulash, Moonsea

(http://images3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20090522192834/deepingdale/images/2/22/Snow_White_s_true_story_by_Kechake.jpg)

Eyes: Deep Ocean Blue
Hair: Silvery White
Skin tone: A milky pale
Scars: She has a third degree burn type scar over her left shoulder. It covers her left shoulder completely out towards her mid chest. The scar is twisted, mangled and horrible to look at. Splatter marks of the same burn are here and there on her neck and could be noted that perhaps it was acid that created this deep hideous scar. She generally wears a cloak, collar or a dress that would hide it.

Height: 5'7"
Weight: 130 lbs


Profession: Seamstress, Matchmaker, Writer
Social class: Nobility, Lower
Marriage Status: Unmarried
Faith: Sunite; She believes in love and kindness above all things.

(http://images3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20100612214460/deepingdale/images/thumb/8/89/Ghost_of_White_Rock_Lake_by_photoenhance.jpg/180px-Ghost_of_White_Rock_Lake_by_photoenhance.jpg)

Elle is pleasant, kind and courteous. Her manners ever present. She has an aire of grace and nobility, elegance and regalness always seems to surround her. She's lighthearted, laugh's easily and tries to find the good out of life. Often times her kind heart is mistaken for a flirtatious nature but she is far too proper to openly flirt with anyone. Any that know her would hear her say. "It simply would not be proper to flirt."

She loves to make clothes, design them and fit her clothing to people. When she makes her clothing she is lost in her own world of pleasant happy things. She adores horseback riding, singing, playing her piano, picnics and swimming. Elle loves flowers. Flowers anywhere and everywhere. Any kind of flowers.

Elle wasn't born into her nobility, it was thrust upon her one day in an election. The city she lived in had open elections for the council and Elle being well known in her city through her sewing and singing was elected Counselor of Good Will for the People. With that came the title of Lady. She argued when she was awarded the councilor position but her pappy pap just wanted what was best for her and urged her to take it. Never being able to say no to her father, Elle relented.

She quickly learned to write in calligraphy, learned to speak many languages and was taught which fork was used for the salad. Lord knows before that Elle assumed one fork was plenty for a meal. Over time, she grew to love the life of the more fortunate and she realized what a true blessing from Sune the elections had been.  She lived the noble life for near eight years before the mists swept her away.




Title: Renard Vallée
Post by: LoneWolf on February 13, 2011, 12:17:54 PM


Weight: 170
Height: 5' 11''
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Green
Distinctive traits: High Mordentish accent.

Bio:

As a young boy growing up in Dementlieu's, Renard been always attracted by the gendarme. Those rapier wielding gentleman's, who seemed to attract all the ladies always appealed to him, thinking that one day he could be one. Coming from a family of three, his father Raymond, his mother Mariette and young Renard were of the middle class of Dementlieu's. Raymond was working at the printing press bringing often a fresh new copy of the latest book ''in vogue" that we would let sit on the corner of the kitchen table, while her mother Mariette would tend cloth's for noble from their modest home. Something Renard enjoyed, as the noble's would entertained the young Vallée boy with the latest city gossips or tales from other domains they had visited or wished their business to expanded to. But in the making, subtly taking good measure to make feel the family boy modest heritage even more so. Something that passed unnoticed on the young boy mind at that time….

In his teens he trained hard at the art of ''escrime'', getting to learn the gendarme weapon of choice, which finally got him accepted among the elite of the city law enforcers years later. Dreaming of investigation he was bitter deceived when we was assigned to the security around the Musée Macabre, which he looks after for more than 10 years. Looking after the Musée was a easy jobs, one that left him with much time to listens to the nobles gossips. Bringing back is young years fresh in his mind, listening to them with their subtle ways to best themselves among their peers, now just too apparent to him. This slight trace of disgust for this human behaviour brought him to live a mostly seclude life dreaming of investigation & travel, bored as we was with the city life, he ended most night at "La Grande Bibliothèque" reading with a bottle of whiskey and cigars as only companion, on subject varied as geography, philosophy, evolution of science, especially those that could better is methods of investigation, astrology, alchemy and later on the occults. As the years passes and knowing is better years would soon be behind him he begans thinking of leaving Dementlieu's to travel before he gets too old.

On one morning hearing gossips of a Vistani's caravan departing for Barovia for the modest sums of 50 solars he saw is chance to hit the road, helped from the fact that the replica of Strahd Van Zarovich at the Musée always been his favourite pieces and that the Count's land always seem to attracted him in some morbid ways. Having buried his mother the previous years and his father having passed away at the hands of cutpurses years before. He packed is modest belonging and put a "for sales" insignia on the front door of the family house and set forth to Barovia's…


Title: Aleksandur Bachev
Post by: Strigoi on March 01, 2011, 04:05:19 AM

Name: Aleksandur Bachev

Hometown: Krezk



Krezk's economy is based mostly on Merchantile and trade, and it was in this interest that the Bachev Family earned a living. Stojko Bachev was the head of the family, he and his son jalainko ran a small Cobblers shop in the Merchant District called "heart and soles". Times where tough however, and the Counts steep taxes Choked small business owners to living a poor and hard life. Stojko had a younger son named Aleksandur who was Defiant and rebellious towards his fathers insistence in learning the family business.

Driven by a urge for excitement and adventure, Aleksandur found himself enlisting into the local Garda when he was of age. Aleksandur's intelligence far exceeded his older brother, and a life of mindless shoe making was not enough to quench the young barovian's lust for Knowledge and curiosity. However his superiors quickly realized Aleksandur's intellectual potential and intentionally kept him off the street patrols. He spent most of his time in the keep working in the Archives reviewing criminal cases. he served a portion of his active duty Guarding various locations around the Garda Keep. Outside on wall sentry duty, or even on occasion he would guard the Burgomaster Ivan Wachter's home residence.

a life of paper work and Sentry duty was not enough to satisfy Aleksandur, and after years of waiting an opportunity finally presented itself. his superiors called an assembly of all the Garda and spoke of city in need of reinforcements. the men were informed of Vallaki's trouble with Rogue Outlander witches and an increase in rebel activity. those willing to transfer to the City of Vallaki were also offered a severance pay of 5000 Wolf fangs to entice men to the troubled city. Naturally there were not many volunteers to say the least, but to Aleksandur this was exactly what he was looking for to leave his Stale position in the Krezk Garda. Finally a chance to shine and discover his true potential.

his Superiors insisted Aleksandur reconsider and remain with their unit, but he had already made up his mind. stojko was not thrilled of his son leaving his home to seek out new lands, dangers, and risks. however 5000 wolf fangs can certainly influence even the most stubborn of Barovian Fathers. Aleksandur gave his family the severance pay to help them through the harsh winters to come. he packed only what he needed to make the journey, hugging and kissing his family goodbye as he walked out of his home. as he made his way down the Svalich road, he occasionally glanced back to Krezk, the city shrinking with each passing step walking toward his new untold Destiny...



Title: Horatiu Georgescu
Post by: Makeithome on March 01, 2011, 08:34:06 AM
Weight: 147
Age: (Estimated) 52 Winters.
Height: 5' 8"
Hair: Gray/White
Eyes: Brown
Distinctive traits: Scarred, Grizzled Face.

Bio:

Georgescu was born to a poor family of farmers along the Balinok Mountains, at a young age he was forced to work in the local fields, and gain a Income for his family. With a family of two daughters, and one son, life was tough for the family, It was a day to day struggle for survival, with high taxes, and poor growing seasons on the farm. Georgescu was often forced in the dead of winter to go out for weeks at a time on hunting trails, with his Uncle to bring back game to feed the struggling family. At the ripe age of seventeen winters, with the upcoming conflict between Count Strahd, and Duke Gundar; Georgescu was torn from his family, and conscripted in to the Barovian Army.

 Dealing with Draconian Punishments, and long days, Georgescu was formed into a professional soldier, which was odd for those in the Barovian Army to receive much training at all. Georgescu's discipline, and willingness to carry out orders of his superiors lead him to the rank of Lance Corporal, which where he would stay until he was put into the Valllaki Garda as a retirement position. Georgescu's banner, and the Barovian Army invaded Duke Gundar's country, where Georgescu's true loyalty was put to the test, assigned to a small group of soldier's Georgescu was tasked with exterminating an entire enemy village of women, and children, all Innocent. Georgescu followed every order to the letter, and the entire village was slaughtered by Georgescu and his soldiers. Georgescu during this time period saw much warfare; took hostages, and fought in large battles such as the storming of Teufeldorf and Zeidenburg.

After the nine month siege of Gundarak, Georgescu was put on patrol duty along the foothills of the Balinoks, and by the Village, where he spent a majority of his life on various Army Postings, and Camps, due to his growing addiction to alcohol, and other issues Georgescu never saw past the rank of Lance Corporal. Eventually, conflict was saw again with a group of Gundarkite Rebels, and assorted outlanders ambushed his patrol, Georgescu's left leg was hit by an arrow. Due to the arrow, and his old age, Georgescu lost his left foot to the Rebels.

 Georgescu was shortly transferred too the Vallaki Garda to spend his remaining days, as the Barovian Army had little use for an old, Injured veteran of war. Georgescu's continuing alcoholism, and addictions have gotten far worst, due to the nature of his post, and his demotion to Private upon arrival into the Garda.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Ellana Twiggy on March 22, 2011, 10:59:27 AM
Sudhri Noirlion
Race: Human
Weight: 105
Age: aproximatly 22
Height: 5' 6"
Hair: reddish
Eyes: Brownish
Distinctive traits: slender, lithe, and always wearing brightly colored clothing. Never wears a weapon, uses her fists to fight.

Sudhri was part of a traveling circus which happened to enter into baldurs gate on a bad day. The troupe was mostly turned into farm animals by an angry mage or slaughtered. Sudhri escaped with her sister as they ran through one of the ten exits into a cloud of smoke. . .or so she though. She was orphoned at a young age and picked up by the circus. She was trained in tight rope walking, leather working, potion making, fortune telling, and a variety of other skills which many consider absolutly useless.  Her name means by translation, Black lion of the southern fire.  Her teacher at the circus was an old monk, of whom she considers a father figure.
She awoke alone, and has determined to make the best of things as they are.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Ellana Twiggy on March 30, 2011, 06:24:44 AM
Character name: Lacol Fox
Age: 20ish
Class: Rogue
Deity: n/a
Alignment: cn
Race: Human
Sex: Female
Colour Hair: dark brown
Colour Eyes: dark brown with golden flecks
Colour Skin: dark olive color
Distinctive characteristics:  several scars line her back and the back of her legs from whips and other various disciplinary measures from when she was younger and still enslaved.

The Romanies, or some other Gypsy groups (such as the Balkan Egyptians), originated in Egypt, and in one narrative were exiled as punishment for allegedly harbouring the infant Jesus. This however is untrue, as many rumors are. Romanies originated from the Indian subcontinent, emigrating from India towards the northwest no earlier than the 11th century. The Romani are generally believed to have originated in central India, possibly in the modern Indian state of Rajasthan, migrating to northwest India (the Punjab region) around 250 BC. In the centuries spent here, there may have been close interaction with such established groups as the Rajputs and the Jats. Their subsequent westward migration, possibly in waves, is believed to have occurred between AD 500 and AD 1000. Contemporary populations sometimes suggested as sharing a close relationship to the Romani are the Dom people of Western Asia and North Africa and the Banjara of India. In 1322, a Franciscan monk named Symon Semeonis described people resembling these atsinganoi (meaning "untouchable" in Koine Greek: α+θιγγάνω) living in Crete and, in 1350, Ludolphus of Sudheim mentioned a similar people with a unique language whom he called Mandapolos, a word which some theorize was possibly derived from the Greek word mantes (meaning prophet or fortune teller). The traditional Romanies place a high value on the extended family. Virginity is essential in unmarried women. Both men and women often marry young; there has been controversy in several countries over the Romani practice of child marriage. Romani law establishes that the man's family must pay a bride price to the bride's parents, but only traditional families still follow this rule. Once married, the woman joins the husband's family, where her main job is to tend to her husband's and her children's needs, as well as to take care of her in-laws. The power structure in the traditional Romani household has at its top the oldest man or grandfather, and men in general have more authority than women. Women gain respect and authority as they get older. Young wives begin gaining authority once they have children.

Bogdan of Cuhea crossed the Carpathians in 1359, took control of Moldavia, and succeeded in removing Moldavia from Hungarian control. His realm extended north to the Cheremosh River, while the southern part of Moldavia was still occupied by the Tatars.

It is here that Lacol Fox first knew the taste of freedom. It was here that her family fled from the war torn areas of thier country taking up thier caravans  and proceeded through the smoke and mists of the night. After generations of them being forced into slavery, freedom was finally thiers. . .or was it. . .


Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: EberronBruce on June 07, 2011, 09:40:23 AM
Name: Legos Slyvester
Race: Valenar Elf
Age: about 135
Deity: Spirits of the Past(Eberron), currently with strong leaning toward Morninglord
Alignment: CG
Sex:Male
Hair: Black and long.
Eye: Lavendar (like most elves)
Skin color: A nature flesh pink color
Distinctive characteristics. Has several minor scars on his body from about 25 years of warfare. Has Valenar war band tattoos on his arms and legs that distinguish him as a warrior who have seen major battles. Recently he has vampire bite marks on his neck from Vicent and a snake bite make on his left wrist.

Legos belongs to the Valenar elves from the realm of Eberron. They are form Aerenal but in a small section. They called themselves Valaes Tairn (Warriors of Glory). He and his band were mercenaries of the Last War that was brokered by House Deneith. He served on the Cryan 163rd cavalry unit. He and is kind are the best cavalry in the lands. Legos has seen lots of warfare and blood shed. Even though he seen a lot of horrors he still remains compassionate and has a jolly attitude. Legos has seen many dead men and some he killed by his own hands. He seen a village ransacked and the women raped and killed by hobgoblin mercenaries. He seen a forest of the impaled of those who apposed the kingdom of Karranath during the war. He a whole village who turned to demon and devil worshiping to save themselves during the war. He and his brothern broke off from Cryan and created Valenar. He was in Valenar of the Day of Mourning in which the kingdom of Cryan was destroyed by dark magic. Now a fog hangs over its borders and strange and twisted creatures lurk with in. Legos was with his warband in Thronehold during the signing of Thronehold treaty that ended the Last War. 

While in Eberron, Legos was learning weaponsmithing and armorsmithing. He was making the Valenar famous double bladed scimitars as well as chainmails and bandedmails. He was apprenticing under his warlord who was a master in tactics as well as smithing. His warlord wore elven chainmail, which is an armor that is only earn and has significant meaning of social status.

Legos and his band was following a group of Talenta halflings into Mournland. They believe the halflings were trying to steel their steeds for House Vandalis, who wanted the elven steeds. Legos got lost in the fogs in Mournland and found himself in Barovia. He had learn to adjust to life there. Making his home with the elves of Degannwy.

For more background information, read up on Eberron and Valenar elves.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Oz on July 05, 2011, 10:11:18 AM
'Oz'


Name: Ozil Sel'fyd
Race: Kagonesti Elf
Age: 121
Deity: None
Alignment: NE
Sex: Male
Hair: Wild. Chocolate brown.
Eye: Large amber
Skin colour: A tanned brown

Distinct characteristics
His various tattoo's and the absence of any kind of footwear. He has various charms and trinkets hanging loosely around is wrists and from his beltline. Most are tied together with a thin dyed rope. Long thin scars cover his back and torso as well as what seems to be deep burns lined along his body.

Oz is devious, temperamental and paranoid.

An opportunist of sorts, a cowardly one at that since he considers his life to be the more valuable than yours.

It is obvious he has been broken earlier on in life, most likely at the hands of others. He rarely speaks of the events that led him into the mists but he will always declare his heritage, his home and more often than not, his distrust of most Humans and Elves. The most obscure thing you would notice is that for a 'wild' Elf, he is oddly well spoken and fairly comfortable with certain understandings of the world outside of the forest. It is fair to say he was not restricted to the forests of Ergoth for as long as he might suggest.

He will greet you warmly and engage you, he will help you, indulge you and maybe even agree with you but mind yourself, this vengeful fey-animal has not forgotten what they did to him and his quest for power has slowly consumed him.

He is outfits are usually loose fitting and roughly made, the colours earthy and faded. A thin patchwork bandanna is wrapped lazily around his forehead, preventing too much hair from spilling down in front of his eyes. His face and hands are usually grubby, if not stained with blood. His muddy legs and feet can be attributed to his refusal to don a pair of boots since he believes them to remove the element of gripping with his toes. However, around both ankles are the remains of golden circlets, most likely cuffs used to chain his legs close together. Only one link remains and it is scratched, still hanging from the left cuff.

[For a more detailed physical description, read his bio IG so you can get a closer look]






Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Merrien on August 03, 2011, 01:49:08 PM
Ismene Petrescu (Isme)
Human, native Barovian, Vallaki area
18 years old, the second daughter of Romano and Tatyana Petrescu
***

The Petrescu family has long been known as stonemasons.  There is even story that much of the cobble of the streets of Vallaki were formed by their labors, long ago.  As so many now, however, they mostly work the farmlands as serfs now, mostly in the southern farms, unless their betters call upon their skill with stone, however needed.  

A respectable family; for the most part, Romano is known as a hard worker and an even hand.  His wife, Tatyana, was quite a beauty in her day, and they were blessed with seven children, six of which still live, and the youngest girl only now three years of age, a late-in-life bloom, though it's generally agreed upon that the child is surely the last to be born to the family.

Ismene herself, being the 5th child in a family of 7 children, hasn't been truly remarkable, other than it looks as if she's following the footsteps of her mother and older sister, Eva, in terms of beauty.  She's a lovely face and a comely figure, and thankfully seems to have a more even head upon her shoulders than the scandalously flirtatious Eva.  Ismene, or Isme, as her family and close friends call her, in fact, was always good about looking after her younger brother, Petrov, and helping her mother with chores and the care of her siblings, older or younger both.  She is a fair hand with a bow, having been taught by her older brothers, and is not afraid of hard work, as any good Barovian.  

Most notably in her growing up, she doted upon her younger brother (by four years), Petrov, and always saw to his wellbeing.  When she was not caring for him or helping with chores, she would be entertaining him with games (many of which she invented on the spot), and stories.  She always favored the dark, frightening tales by firelight, and if she could get her smaller brother's eyes to pop wide open in terror, she knew she'd accomplished her goal.  Still, in her made-up tales, though often tragic in tone, there were undercurrents of hope and encouragement that good behavior might find reward.  

Her parents called her their "story-weaver," and she would often be asked to regale the family with her new stories in the time after their evening meals, when the firelight was high, stomachs were full, and the shadows outside darkened the windows.  With her natural tendency toward creativity and sociability, the family was not too surprised when she mentioned a wish to find work in the city proper, in one of the taverns, perhaps, to make coin more easily for the family, and to bring some diversion to her quick-working mind.  Though her mother had a few reservations, she knew her daughter had a much better head upon her shoulders than her elder sister, and so they finally consented.      

Further, Ismene herself has flocked to the Cult of the Morninglord due to the actions of an Outlander who called the Morninglord "Lathander," and who saved her younger brother, Petrov, from a terrible fate.  He was late returning home one night because he'd twisted his foot in a field.  It had broken and become entangled, and he was a trapped.  He would have been made dinner to a lone wolf had the outlander not rescued him, and when he was brought home safely (though the foot never did heal properly, leaving the boy with a bad limp), the family was so grateful that the Outlander was invited to stay through the "terible noapte," though of course, this just meant a pallet by the family hearth.  Though never quite able to get through to the typically xenophobic family, the Outlander was still welcomed whenever seen.  He was a young knight, full-plated, and with a handsome set of blonde hair and blue eyes.  The young Ismene, who was 14 at the time (and Petrov 10), was smitten.  And though her parents saw and tried to discourage the crush, it was there all the same.  The Outlander was welcomed when he came by, but it was obvious the family would not allow intermixing.  Ismene and the knight were never allowed to sit near one another, nor to speak privately.  However, by the looks the young knight returned, the feelings were something mutual.  One night, after Ismene had turned 16, the Outlander purportedly had gone into the crypts under the Morninglord's temple in the Western Outskirts on a call of duty, and had never returned.  No one saw him again; not even a body was recovered.

Thus, Ismene goes to the Temple to worship and to pray, and secretly, to keep her eyes open for--what would be, frankly, a miraculous return after all this time.  After all, is not the Morninglord faith also about hope?  And she has the tiniest bit more of an open mind toward Outlanders.  After all, some (or even most) of them may be the devil himself, but a small few, a very small few, perhaps, might not be so terrible after all.  Still, best be wary.  But Ismene is seen in the Outskirts more than many of her fellow natives, traveling to and from the Temple, making trading trips to the Vistani Mist camp, and on the rare occasion, a stopover at the Resting Lady should her travelling take her too close to nightfall for safe travel to her family home or her job at the Broken Bell.  
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Juice on August 12, 2011, 01:05:35 AM
Name: Ronnie Long
Race: Human
Age: 18
Sex: Male
Hair: Black and long.
Eye: Blue
Skin color: White
Distinctive characteristics. A scar on his face running from his left brow across his eye and down his left cheek.
 He has a bone arm on his left side.

Ronnie's story begins in a small village in Niphilhym by the name of Vikerland.
Vikerland was a peacefull part of Niphilhym everyone went about their business
trade stalls riddled the streets and small children would play by the fountain
in the town square. Ronnie Long wasn't like normal children niether was his extremely
close friend Ophelia Taylor. Ronnie would play all day with Ophelia by the forest until
his father Cliff Long would come home from a long days woodcutting and hunting.
Ophelia was a real beauty her silky black hair flowed weightlessly in the
breeze and her cream skin was said to be so soft her touch would melt your
heart and her clear blue eyes would control even the strongest will of a man.
she always wore a long black coat made from the finest leather which was cute
because Ronnie also had a very similar coat but ronnies was more rugged and tattered.
Ronnie had the most brilliant blondhair tied back in a pony tail and crystal blue eyes
that matched those of Ophelia's.Time went by so fast for Ronnie and Ophelia soon
they were adolescents and were experiencing love for the first time it was as if they were meant to be.
Unfortunately Ophelia had caught the eye of another young man, Jason.Jason is the son of the lord
Nathaneal Thorogood, the Thorogoods governed Vikerland. Jason was very wealthy and was accustom to
having the finer things in life a pompous expression seemed to be the norm to this short stout of a lad
pimples covered his white oily face below the neatly cut brown hair that hung just below
fringe height. Jason was brought up to expect to be given everything he disired
so being the son of the lord of the land one would expect that having a fine women would
not be out of his reach. Jason tried for many years to win the affection
of Ophelia but with no success. Until finally one summers afternoon by the Vikerland
forest Jason made his move.

Ronnie and Ophelia were laying in the long grass staring at the blue sky naming the certain
shapes they could make out in the clouds. Ronnie rolls onto his side and touches Ophelia
on the hand stares into her caring eyes and says;
"Ophelia",
"Yes Ronnie",
"Umm its been almost 16 summers since the day of your birth and almost 17
from mine and i was thinking seen as you are to find a husband soon, umm have you decided
on ... well you know",
"a life mate?",
"yea",
"well i have one man in mind that i would like to spend eternity with",
"oh?",
"well to be honest its you Ronnie",
startled Ronnie Exclaims, "Really?!!",
"of course i wouldn't have it any other way",
While Ronnie and Ophelia lay in the grass a small stoutly shadow appears behind them and
with a gruff and fickle voice says,
"well isn't that sweet",
Ronnie shifts in the field to see who was speaking to them,
"Jason you startled me for a second",
in a sarcastic reply Jason cocks his head to oneside and says
"well now we wouldn't want the little boy to get scared now would we",
Ronnie rolls his eyes lays back down next to Ophelia and mutters
"Jason im older than you least you forget",
with harsh words Jason replies,
"and least you forget you are in the presence of a noble son of a woodcutter",
Ronnie becomes silent and sinks his leather coat,
with great confidence Jason announces,
"now Ophelia i have come to ask for your hand in marrage",
with a surprised and angry tone Ronnie Exclaims,
"you cant do that Ophelia must decide for herself",
"silence peasant! now Ophelia what is you answer",
With a confused look Ophelia says,
" well umm i want to spend my life with Ronnie",
taken back by this Jason shouts,
"WHAT?! you would throw away a life time of luxury for this ..this common fool",
Ronnie shouts above Jason's Rambling,
"you have her answer now would you kindly leave sir!",
Confused Jason Say's
"i..i....i am noble now one defies me",
as to break his concentration Ophelia shouts
"leave Jason!",
During the silence that seemed to last forever Jason found his only logical choice,
"well fine if i cant have her",
a short pause is given as Jason unsheathes a golden handled, silver blade
jeweled dagger encrusted with 5 ruby's along the blade,
"then no one can",
as Jason throws the dagger towards Ophelia, Ronnie lets out a heart breaking scream,
"NOOOOOO Ophelia!!!!",
Ronnie leaped in the front of the flying dagger but he was a fraction too late the
dagger entered Ophelia's chest and they both fell to the ground. As Jason cowardly runs
into the distance Ronnie crawls over to Ophelia and holds her in his arms as the blood
slowly drips from her chest down her side and stains Ronnie's fingers red.
Ophelia looks up at Ronnie and as their eyes meet in an unbreakable bond four short words
escape her dry lips,
"I love you Ronnie", "I love you too Ophelia",
Ronnie slowly leans in to give Ophelia their first and last kiss and with Ophelia's last effort she kisses him back
and fades away. Ronnie lays on the grass as streams of tears roll down his
face Ronnie slowly pulls the blade from her body and closes her black leather coat,
crosses her arms and shuts her eyes closing them forever. As Ronnie weeps he pulls out 2
gold coins and a small ring with a sapphire gem centered in the band. Ronnie places the coins
over her eyes, and the sapphire ring on her left ring finger.
"Ill see you soon Ophelia."

Ronnie gets up and with blood hungry eyes and spots Jason In the distance
without a second thought Ronnie sprints after the blundering boy. Ronnie's strides bounding over
the grass and in a matter of moments he reaches Jason. Ronnie crash tackles Jason to the
ground and Jason Manages to pull another small blade and swiped at Ronnie cutting him from his left brow,
across his eye and down his left cheek. Ronnie wrestles with Jason and ends up behind Jason with his greasy hair
Grasped in his hand and places the blade against his throut and stares into his dark brown eyes and says
"you want her .... lets see if you'll find her in the afterlife".
As Ronnie clenches the blade in hand pressed up to Jason's Neck hes leans in and whispers
"but i doubt the gods will let you".
With Ronnie's final words he sliced Jason's throut open and as the blood washes over him in
a spray of red mist. A childlike voice is heard from behind a large oak tree,
"hey you've got red on you",
the unknown figure lets out a childish giggle and slowly strides over to Ronnie. Ronnie eyes
this young girl and notices shes not much diffrent from Ophelia
except she has shorter hair and speaks with a more innosent accent.
"Who are you?" Ronnie questions the young women.
"Oh me, I'm Rosie. You can bring her back you know",
"What?",
"your lady friend over there, you know the sleeping one",
Ronnie lifts himself of Jason's lifeless corpse and says
"how?",
"well umm I've got this book its called the umm necro... necronum oh doesn't matter, but
if u read this little paragraph here it will bring her back u'll see",
Rosie points down to a scrawled paragraph inside this black leather book,
"what must i do?",
"oh umm read that over her body and cut your self with that there pretty knife that you
got in your hands there",
"and she'll come back?",
"yup yup here take the book",
Ronnie grasps the book in both hands and walks over to Ophelia's body and begins to read:

Non instituo meus via,
Id cruentus dies,
All res tersus absentis,
Cruor macula sol solis rutilus hodie.

The earth began to shake and Ronnie lifted the knife and cut a small grove in his left palm
and with the final cut a burst of energy explodes out from the book blasting Ronnie backward
and disintegrating Ophelia's body to dust and a Whisper is heard from Rosie
"Ill see you soon Ronnie Long", with that Rosie seemed to disappear and another burst of light
lept from the book and desintergrated Jasons cold corpse. Ronnie desperately
tried to fight the power of the spell with all his might but with another flash Ronnie was knocked Unconscious.

Moments later Ronnie awakens from his slumber to find Rosie the book Ophelia and Jason all
gone. Ronnie couldn't  feel the hand he cut, it felt numb with eyes closed shut
Ronnie lifted his left arm to touch his face and to his joy he felt his finger tips
run down his pale cheek with a sigh of relief he opens his eyes and lets out a sudden gasp
as he abruptly notices his hand has no flesh or muscle on it like it has been striped
back to bone. frightened and alone he runs back to his house to find something to cover up this deformaty but as he was
running he didn't notice the long grass in front and around him begin to wither and die.
the door to Ronnie's house burst open and poor Ronnie rummages threw his fathers belongings
until finaly he finds a black leather glove Ronnie hastily puts it on his skeletal hand. He then slumps
down in the corner of the hovel by the fire. Cliff returned home from the forest and was shocked to find his
son weeping by the fireplace. Cliff went over to Ronnie and sat next to him and said
"hard day huh son",
"you have no idea father",
"why the sad face boy?"
Ronnie slowly removed his glove to reveal his cursed hand his father, shocked cliff jumped up and said
"wha what hapend, did you cut yourself on the scythe again son?",
"no father shes..shes gone father Ophelia's gone",tears form in Ronnie's eyes,
Cliff kneels down and hugs son, With a warm embrace Ronnie returns the hug
"i don't know what to do father....father?"
suddenly Cliff rolls off Ronnie and onto the floor stone dead. Startled Ronnie picks
up the glove and runs into the forest weeping and as he ran. soon he was so tired the
run became a slow walk over the dieing earth that crated his path threw out the wilderness.
head hanging low tears streaming down his now pale face, branches brushed past his
now long dark black hair that flowed down past his shoulders.
a raven began cawing on a branch above him, it swooped down and perched its self on Ronnie's right
shoulder at first he shooed the pesky bird away but began to accept the fact that he would
not get rid of this bird no matter how hard he tried so on Ronnie walked though the forest
not noticing a thick grey mist begin to form around him. The raven eyed the mist with its
sapphire blue eyes it mearly looked down at Ronnie and shed a single tear but the raven felt safe with Ronnie
as if she was ment to be with him.

On quiet nights you can hear Ronnie muttering to him self as he walks with raven
atop his shoulder:

Lost my way,
This bloody day,
Lost my way,
All things wash away,
But blood stains the sun red today.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: firebrand on August 17, 2011, 02:43:43 AM
Name: Tsuki Akako (goes by Tsuki)

Race: Caliban from Rokushima Taiyoo
Age: 20
Gender: Female

Appearance:
Skin: Splotchy Red as if she has a rash of some kind
Hair: Completely hairless
Eyes: Pale sickly white (no irises) - Extremely oversize - Think watermelon when you expected to see an apple
Ears: Long and sharply pointed, somewhat elflike but way too long
Height: 4' 5''
Other Notable Features: Fingers are long and talon-like, though not sharp. Arms and legs are bony and have no apparent musculature. Also her arms and legs are far longer than should be normal. Appears thin and malnourished. Is covered in bandages wraps, furs and whatever else happens to be conveient for keeping her warm.

The most obvious trait marking this woman as something other than fully human is the sickly red color to her skin. (picture a rash from an alergic reaction). A closer look reveals eyes that are far too large to be normal and the sickly white color they have is almost unsettling to look at. If you didn't know better you'd swear she should be blind. When not hooded, her ears appear to be somewhat elflike, however they are much longer and come to a sharper point than any elf you have ever seen.

Yet another oddity is this "creature's" complete lack of any body hair, though this fact is rarely immediately apparent as she tends to be wrapped in bandages, rags, furs and whatever else she can find that will keep her warm. When and if she smiles her teeth look like they belong to a predatory animal of some kind. While they are not exactly razor sharp, they are all pointed as if nature saw fit to only give her canines.

When she stands it is obvious her proportions are all wrong as well. Overall she appears as if she is constantly starved, though her constant energy betrays otherwise. Her limbs though bone thin appear to be strong and flexible and entirely off. Her forearms are entirely too long as are her hands and fingers. Though they lack any sharpness, her fingers look more akin to talons than hands. Likewise her legs bear similar disprportinality to them with her thighs and calves having no apparent musculature to them and their length appearing to be completely abnormal.

Background:
As far as Tsuki knows, she does not have any parents. The exact circumstances of her birth are even a mystery to those who raised her. As far as she has been told she was discovered on the banks of a river by a passing monk. She was cold, and dying. Despite her appearance, the monk took pity on her and decided to raise her as his student teaching her all he could of the Shugendo way of life and of the Kami.

It became immediately apparent though that physical deformities were not this child's only curse. Early in her life her Sensei noticed odd personality quirks. He often said that it was as if the Kami had given her two spirits. That of a human and that of something else. Though she did not display two distinct personalities, she was prone to mood swings. At times she was entirely lucid, and others almost feral. Though even the word feral is a poor descriptor. In trying to help her cope with her mental deformities her Sensei taught her that her inhuman thoughts and feelings were that of a Kami living inside her and like the Kami living in all things she needed to respect it in order to earn its trust and thus gain mastery over it.

Her interaction with other people was rare, but she learned quickly that she was not like other people. Though her Sensei had given her the name Akako (lit: Red Child) other people used the word Tsukimono (demon possessed), Bakemono (monster), and the like around her so often that she started calling herself Tsuki.

Personality Quirks:
Enjoys drawing, though she tends to use the dirt, rocks, trees or other natural things as her medium. The concept of drawing on paper with ink, charcoal, or other colors is downright unthinkable to her.

At times displays a feral quality. This is not wild ranting or the desire to eat bloody flesh, but she does have the tendency to display animal like posturing including moving about on all fours, displaying her teeth and hissing a growling in warning and general disagreeableness. Often times in this state she displays childlike glee at the most inane things. (read that as immaturity).

When she speaks she has a tendency to draw out vowel sounds. For example, she says her own name with a long o and e sounds ie: Soookeee
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: firebrand on August 17, 2011, 02:55:13 AM
Name: Ashellene Silverblade
Race: Human
Age: 24
Gender: Female
Hair: Blonde, nearly white
Eyes: Grey
Skin: White, slightly tan and weathered
Distinctive Traits: Scar running from above left eye to lower right jawline. Wields a sword that is slightly larger than she is.

Ashellene grew up Ashellene Fisher in the port town of Waterdeep on the Sword Coast of Faerun. There her parents owned an inn by the name of "The Saucy Lass." If you ask her she will proudly tell you her father named the establishment after her mother. She has five older brothers who all took up swords and adventuring when they came of age and since she was used to roughhousing with them all the time she followed in their footsteps. At the age of 15 she set out from home and fell in with the Silverblade mercenary corps. There she did odd jobs taking on all manner of work and training under the tutelage of her eldest brother Jaxon Silverblade. She trained hard all day long in order to earn her keep and was finally entrusted with a much coveted proving mission which would earn her the rank of squad commander. Unfortunately, she never returned from that mission as far was Waterdeep and the Silverblade mercenary corps records. But the denizens of the mists know differently...
Title: Scurvy
Post by: Sewerfish on August 24, 2011, 04:50:42 PM
Height: 42 Inches
Weight: 55 lbs
Eyes: Deep Brown
Hair: Black, shoulder length, curly or dreaded
Skin: Fair, gray overtones

General Appearance: At first glance, one may notice Scurvy’s dark clothing is worn and typically dirty. He wears black boiled hide armor over gray woolen garments. He almost without exception has his hood pulled over his head. Upon seeing his face, he has a gray cloth tied over his head, under the good. From under it, wild locks of twisting black hair may be seen. Within the curly-locks, a fish shaped bone bead and small seashells may be seen. His arm bares a tattoo of a generously proportioned mermaid.

Demeanor: Scurvy has multiple distinct demeanors. Common among them is a deftness of movement so great as to possibly seem unnatural. At times Scurvy appears to be worn out and tired. This is characterized by lazy movements, a round slack posture, and slow speech. Other times, he may seem skittish. This may include a cowering or submissive posture, darting eyes looking for danger or escape routes, a nervous tone of voice with quick speech. At other times, Scurvy can be overcome with bitterness. During these times he exhibits bold and upright postures and may speak with haughty or bitter tones. He is more likely to look directly at the person he is talking to and use aggressive gestures to emphasis his points. Scurvy can appear as a predator. Those seeing him on the prowl will notice his movements are deliberate and calculated, his posture tight like a coiled spring. His speech may be cold. Finally, Scurvy has a tendency to display short episodes of sympathy in the presence of inescapable suffering of another. Scurvy may alternate between these dispositions quickly, possibly making him seem a bit mad.

Character Background: Scurvy is from Faerun where all his memories are from life aboard a ship called the Sweet Dew. The ship was a merchant/pirate ship where necessity often motivated unscrupulous deeds. Scurvies responsibilities consisted of keeping the lower decks free from rats and other pests. Scurvy was little respected among the majority of the crew and he was often the butt of their jokes. To cope with this abuse, he would become very submissive to the strongest men on the ship in an effort to gain their protection. Generally, the crews of the Sweet Dew were drifter types who used violence and intimidation at sea and at port. Scurvy would engage in supporting roles for the crew while on shore. Activities like cheating at cards by reading the cards of the crews opponents or attacking the backs of opponents during bar fights. The end of the Sweet Dew came due to a deal unknown to Scurvy the Captain broke with some unknown entity. Rumors aboard the ship indicated that because of the captain's failure, the entire ship and crew were cursed. The ship and crew then suffered a string of unlucky events ending on a foggy night when a ghost ship rose from the depths of the sea with a crew of undead that attacked and destroyed the Sweet Dew. Scurvy ended up drifting on a plank into the mist finally washing up on the shores near Dementlieu, but hiding in Vallaki. He still believes he carries the curse.
Title: Anton Girescu
Post by: SebastianDeMontfort on September 12, 2011, 06:32:52 PM
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 155 lbs
Eyes: Dark Blue-grey
Hair: Dark brown, messy, worn about halfway down his ears
Skin: Surprisingly fair, for a Barovian

General Appearance: While "rugged" might not be the first word to come to mind in relation to the young scout, Anton is used to living on the move. He bears a somewhat scruffy beard, though it tends to never grow much. He shaves it off when he remembers to, however, as most of his time was spent in the woodlands of Barovia, propriety isn't always the first thing on his mind.

Demeanor: Anton is somewhat light-hearted, if a tad inconsistent. If Barovians live daily in fear, he believes, they will stagnate. The true key to growth i n his mind is embracing one's emotions and not living by what fear dictates-- though fear is certainly not out of the question in terms of his own emotional state. Fear is the one emotion he'll try to suppress over any other, because while emotions are good, fear can lead to carelessness, which almost always leads to death.

Character Background: Anton spent most of his childhood in Immol, though he rather quickly became bored of the place. His late grandmother was said to be an outlander heroine, and the idea of adventuring caught hold in his imagination, until he was old enough to follow up on this dream and become a freelance scout for the village, reporting on what went on nearby. He learned to fight, to track, and, probably most importantly, to make himself unseen. His life as a scout quickly became purposeless, however, as nothing seemed to be happening other than the usual, and the town's militia handled that with enough ease to make him unnecessary. He decided to become a woodsman and hunter, and while this worked for a time, he again grew restless and felt somewhat useless. When a local man was caught in the act of murdering his brother, Anton leapt at the chance to catch the now-escaped fugitive. Just when it seemed that success was at hand, however, he found himself attacked by an unknown highwayman and left for dead. He awoke, however, in a Vistani camp nearby Vallaki, which was far to the north of his home. Now, Anton must find a new purpose-- for returning home won't be that easy...
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Elfric on September 12, 2011, 06:46:08 PM
Name: Elfric Ulászló  Götz
Alias: Alphones De Hawke
D.O.B. : 9/12/732
Age: 34
Height: 5'9
Hair Color: Dark Brown
Eye Color: Pale green
Homeland : Zeidenburg, Gudarak.
Nationality: Gundarakite


Bio:

Elfric Götz is a Gundarakite peasent born thirty's winters ago, in the city of Zeidenburg. His father and four brothers were Silver smiths, while his mother was unemployed and tended to the Elfric since birth. It is said that his family once held a title of nobility, before the third revolt had failed to wrestle Gundar's power over the land. Despite growing up under the bloody reign of Gundar, as a boy he was oblivious to the horrors that occurred. In fourteen winters, he'd became old enough to learn his father's trade. Although fate would have his life take a turn for worse.

 Duke Gundar was assassinated, and the lands of Gundarak were besieged by the forces of Zarovich. His father and brothers went off to war, leaving himself and his mother in Zeidenburg. While his kinfolk fought for their country, Elfric managed to make a living working on a nearby farm as a hired hand. That is where he met a young woman named Ingrid.
 She was the Farmer's daughter. Months passed and word of his brother's and father's death came to the Götz house. They had died in an unknown skirmish near an outlay of farmland to the far west. What came worse was the passing of his mother to typhoid fever.

 In two months time the lands of Gundarak were annexed. All Gundarakites became serfs to the newly established Boyer, for Zarovich's rule to remain in such distant lands. There was very little joy besides the company of Ingrid, in which he  soon fell in love with her. Two years passed by and he asked for her hand in marriage. 
The farmer granted his wish and allowed them.  The wedding was a simple one, as rural ones usually are.  The bride's family came from all over what was once Western Gundarak. Singing, and merry making for a joyest occasion. It had been years since he felt so light hearted, and young. 

Four years passed, and with it Ingrid's father did so. If it were not for the Boyer, the farm would go to Elfric, and Ingrid. Instead the Boyer owned the land, and they still laid in serfdom to him. Nine month's after her father's passing, she gave birth to a son of whom Elfric named Alan. Four years the child spent with his mother and father, until times got tough for them all.
Ingrid and Elfric decided to send him to the east. There he will stay with Ingrid's Aunt and Uncle, far from the chains of serfdom, and the Boyer's rule. The farm grew steadily quiet with no longer the sound of a child at play. Four year's passed and life went on as the child grew up, far from his father and mother.

One evening fair, soldier's of the local Boyer came to collect the harvest after a long drought. He told them the crops did not come in, and there was barely enough for the winter to split between him and his wife. The men not caring for his excuses saw fit to take his food, and his wife by force. They arrested him, and raped then killed his wife.

 For many years, Elfric barely exists in his tiny, isolated cell. Until one fateful day, a merchant from an unknown land was imprisoned. He had claimed to be from a place called fearing, an outlander within these parts. The man and Elfric became friends within the bleakness of the castle prison.  Elfric did learn how to read, and write from the man as the years went on.  The day had come when Elfric was released from his prison, and he asked the man of what crime did he commit. The man smiled at him.

Returning to his old homestead, he had found it burned to ashes and the crops salted so nothing may ever grow again. Asking the nearby Farmers what had happen since his live was taken away for ten years, and of his son. His son never returned they say, mishaps he remains with his Great Aunt and Uncle. Afterwards he searched through the remains,only to find a silver dagger.
 Sitting with the dagger in hand, he thought of what could have befallen his son. If he had died, then there was nothing left to live for anymore. His entire life was one tragic act after another, and he deemed himself cursed by the gods above. Instead of killing himself, he decided to travel deeper into what has become the lands of Zarovich.In search to find his long lost son, it has been four years since he left the lands of his native Gundarak, and nothing has been found of the boy.

Due to fellow Gundarakite's migrations to the city, he came to know peace amongst his own oppressed people. Adopting the message of the Morning Lord, and worshiping him  as to bring hope to their bleak existence. Four years he stayed outside the city gate's at the Lady's Rest inn, meeting people from foreign lands and the stories they tell. Always asking if they had seen a man who spoke Luktar, in hopes he could find his son.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: airengale on November 07, 2011, 03:20:27 AM
Name: Izabela Miklos
Height: 5 ‘6”
Weight: 110
Race: Human, Native Barovian, fringes of Krezk
Age: around 18 years
Deity: The Morninglord
Alignment: CG
Sex: Female
Hair: Dirty blonde
Eye: A dark brown
Skin: white, slightly tanned
Distinct characteristic: A simple Barovian woman in every sense of the phrase. Her mind is just now blossoming out of her confined Barovian life, and she brings with her a melodic voice that transcends her heavy Barovian accent when she gives sermons and praise.

Bio: A young woman whose life is riddled with tragedy since a very young age. She belonged to a poor family of serfs as an eldest, and at her birth her mother died of complications. Her father was since then a drunk, and Izabela had to marry early off in her life to escape the torment and abuse that was given to her by her father.

          She married a man name Petre Miklos at the age of fourteen. Petre was around the age of twenty, and he himself was a firstborn whose family saved enough to buy him a rinky-dink education. Their love was frivolous and childish; Izebela saw Petre as a knight in shining armor, the very definition of hope, taking her away from all the abuse as a child and showing her a new world. In their first winter together true love was never so beautiful, and Petre passed his knowledge to Izabela.
 
          The winter that followed was one of hardships and reality. Izabela was un-liked by the Miklos family, and she was seen as a tramp and a weight at their first-born’s ankles. The two were poor farm workers who were trying to make ends meet. The winter of their love affair, Izabela became pregnant, though hope moved in her belly, it diminished when Izabela gave a stillbirth at the age of 15, and utter hopelessness followed thus after. Petre secretly blamed Izabela for the loss of his child and their love for each other was dwindling. Izabela, overtime, became grounded; hope was nothing more for her than a day’s work with a pitchfork in hand.
 
          The fateful night that brought Izabela to the door of the Morning Lord church was tragic. The current winter was soon at an end, and the two were getting a head start on the farm work for spring. The fringes of Krezk were relatively calm, and the old Noapte tales were nothing more than an abusive story keeping her from running away from her father. Noapte laid eyes on Izabela; eager to take from her the struggles of life. They took flesh from bone, and limb from limb all the struggles and love and reason for living. A few steps from Izabella, Petre was being torn apart from a pack of Neuri. Guttural screams and cries fill the air. Izabela was soon on the run, and the chasing of Neuri soon behind her. With ever last breath, and with every last step Izabela took, new life washed over her like an ebb and flow. The dawn broke Noapte, the howls faded, but Izabela ran for her new life, and never stopped running since.

         Petra Doyevska consolidated the asunder Izabela once she reached the temple floors, and she introduced Izabela to the Morning Lord. A place to sleep, and a place for rest; Izabela finds a new home in the arms of the Morning. Izabela’s new life begins.


This character has come to a closure (http://www.nwnravenloft.com/forum/index.php?topic=31349).
 Petra Doyevska: To Conquer The Darkness - A Paladin's Tale (http://www.nwnravenloft.com/forum/index.php?topic=24173)
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: VeeTpl on November 07, 2011, 02:51:00 PM
Name: Yuliya Vorius
Gender: Female
Age: 25
Hair: Reddish
Eyes: Blue
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 121 lbs

Origin: Suzail, Cormyr
Race: Human



In-Game Version:

Before you stands a young woman of, one could say, extraordinary beauty.

Her smooth, slightly pale skin in comparison with the long, curly and uniquely-reddish hair creates a very pleasing mix. Along with her apparition and a pair of blue, captivating eyes - this female presents herself amazingly well. For a normal man, it would be quite hard not to appreciate, or even not to notice her very person.

Yuliya has the looks of a woman which is both graceful and knows how to get things right - all of it is shown by her movements, the way she carries herself and a confident smirk; which almost never vanishes. A true lady-in-waiting and a woman, worthy of a sin.

Her clothing consists mostly of darkly shaded colours and the colour of black - creating a mysterious, yet inquisitive aura around herself. She usually dresses in tight, comfortable wearing - easily showing of her curves, making her even all the more attractive and women's for the eyes.

Her voice is both fluent and astrictive. Soft and seductive.



Extended Version:
Before you stands a young woman of, one could say, extraordinary beauty. She meets your curious gaze with an equally intrigued regard - narrowing her neatly shaped eyes, and showing off a little smirk. Perhaps a tease, perhaps a habit of hers.

Her smooth, slightly pale skin in comparison with the long, curly and uniquely-reddish hair creates a very pleasing mix. Along with her apparition and a pair of blue, captivating eyes - this female presents herself amazingly well. For a normal man, it would be quite hard not to appreciate, or even not to notice her very person. She seems to be aware of that, oftentimes regarding the staring men with a wink of an eye.

Yuliya has the looks of a woman which is both graceful and knows how to get things right - all of it is shown by her movements, the way she carries herself and a confident smirk; which almost never vanishes. There is more than grace to her. This woman palpates with an aura of confidence, which might be received as arrogance - but it is a wrong assumption.. for the most part. She does not seem to regard people with disgust or eyeing them, like they do not belong, nor deserve her company. If anything, it can be that intriguing smirk.. that could be also used as a weapon, to prevent any unwanted people from her - with a little of sense of humor. Never to sound excessively harsh or aggressive. There is simply.. a sophisticated sense of taste when she does so. A true lady-in-waiting and a woman, worthy of a sin.

Her clothing consists mostly of darkly shaded colours and the colour of black - creating a mysterious, yet inquisitive aura around herself. She usually dresses in tight, comfortable wearing - easily showing of her curves, making her even all the more attractive and women's for the eyes. To all of it, no matter what she wears, remains a hint of distinguished taste. Patiently and carefully forged over the years of her life. And whether she wears some black, mysterious clothes or some magnificent dress - she looks ever-astounding. This is what lists a true lady among the others.

The girl has a bit of speaking in different tones, balancing her sound accordingly to the situation. And to the people surrounding her. Her voice is both fluent and astrictive. Soft and seductive. It is like a careless brook of peace and solace, yet it can be also a rushing stream - full of passion and dreams to follow. A remarkable feature of hers.
One could also easily notice a hint of a highborn dialect to it, although the foreign accent - she manages her words well and always creates a pleasing melody out of them.

She is like the gem among the mists. One that is ever so rarely seen, yet alone in its full presence. She is like the sharpest diamond - flawless in itself. She is like a flower - that one would wish to take care of. But she is also like the mists themselves - filled with secrets and the unknown, perhaps never to be discovered.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Draxiss on November 09, 2011, 03:20:14 AM
Name: Draxiss
Race: Caliban
Origin: Demiplane of Dread
Age: Not certain; between 16 and 20 years old
Height: 5'5" tall
Weight: 102 lbs. (46.27 kg)
Sex: Male
Languages: Common, Barovian, Draconic

Bio:
Draxiss' mother, Karien, came from another plane in the mists, although the origins are unknown. She was a spell caster of some power, apparently having delved into both the Arcane and Natural magics. When, she was pulled through the mists, she was already three months pregnant. Her lover, Draxiss' father, had apparently died early on in her pregnancy, although she never told him how. Ignorant of the harmful effects that magic had on fetuses, she continued to practice her Art, although much more in secret then before.

From the start, she was on the run from magic-fearing Barovians, as she was deposited n that region, out in the wilds. She learned quickly how to adapt, adopt their language, and appear as one of them. Six months later, she learned of the harmful effects magic could have on fetuses, when she gave birth to her grotesque newborn son. She was horrified at what had happened, but still loved him, cared for him, and raised him.

Due to the superstitious fear and hatred the others held for Draxiss, both of them were forced to travel from place to place, never staying in one location too long. Although they would have liked too, it seemed as if there was always some obstacle to risky or too great to overcome to reach a more permanent safe haven.

Karien taught her son as much as she could, and made certain to impose upon him the dangers and responsibilities of wielding magic. Karien herself had a very principled view on magic: Those who wielded magic had great power, and as such, a responsibility to use that power for the good of others and to prevent the misuse of said power.

That eventually led to her death after she was forced into a moral dilemma of fleeing or protecting a small group of Barovians from an attack from a pair of ravenous ghouls, reducing them to ashes. She chose the latter, and deeply regretted it when the Barovians spread the news of what had happened in their small, backwater town. A witch-burning mob was formed, and she was forced to flee yet again with her son, who by now was nearly an adult. They attempted to flee off into the wilderness, but were spotted on the outskirts of town.

Draxiss' mother was shot down by the local militia, her corpse burnt, and her ashes scattered.

Draxiss, hooded and cloaked, disappeared, and his whereabouts are unknown.

Physical description:
This thin, grotesque figure could hardly be called human. His head is completely differently shaped from a humans, appearing as, perhaps, a cross between a snake, dragon, lizard, and frog. Large scales cover the top of his head, and extend down to slightly underneath the underside of his eye before becoming finer and disappearing altogether into smooth skin. His eyes are large with bright blue irises that nearly fill his eyes, and vertical pupils. Large frills are in place of ears. His snout is little more than a pair of slits in the sides of his head. His tongue is forked, and his teeth look a great deal sharper than normal human teeth do, although they fill the same purpose. The only aspect that could be reliably considered human is the fact that his face still has the facial muscles necessary for, and attempts to, achieve the same expressions as on a normal human face, with a disconcerting effect.

A spine extends from the top of his head to down the back of his neck, ending just before his shoulder blades. A tail extends from his backside, with another spine emerging from that and a pair of almost fin-like projections emerging from the end.

His skin comes in varying shades of blue and grey, becoming a very pale blue-grey on the underside of his jaw, down the front of his neck, the underside of his tail, and along his belly and chest. Elsewhere, the skin becomes a much more vibrant shade of blue, decorated with the occasional paler stripe. Smooth, not particularly strong scales cover the back of his neck, the outsides of his arms, his back, the outside of his thighs, his shins, his feet, his hands, and his chest. Elsewhere, the scales become so find as to be difficult to see before vanishing into smooth skin.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Kagetora on November 26, 2011, 02:33:43 PM
So, since I have been playing her more of late (she's so much damn fun) I thought I would post a bit of background about Arachidamia here.  She doesn't keep a journal or anything, and isn't much of a bard, so I am keeping this out of the IC portion of this forum (i.e. a separate thread) and just posting it here.  Its mostly OOC info anyway.

Arachidamia

Arachidamia is usually listed along with other famous "warrior women" in history (like Lady Yae, Boudica, etc.) because she led troops (probably the other women of Sparta) against Pyrrhus in 272 BCE when he besieged Sparta.  She's often listed as a "Spartan princess," but thats sort of a meaningless word...it probably just means she was related to one of the two kings of Sparta.  She was later queen, married to the Eurypontid king Eudamidas I, and gave birth to a couple of sons who would become the Eurypontid kings (as well as their sons).  She was also the wealthiest woman in Sparta.

In 272, Pyrrhus (from whom we get the phrase "pyrrhic victory") was doing a pretty good job of conquering territory around the Mediterranian...I believe at this point in time he controlled Sicily and a few other places.  The army of Sparta, led by the Agiad King Areus I, was away on campaign in Crete, and a disaffected member of the Spartan elite convinced Pyrrhus to attack Spatra with the goal of conquering it and putting this person into power.

So, Pyrrhus took his army to Sparta.  It consisted of 24000 or more men and 24 Elephants.  The Spartans had 2000 fighters, probably mostly the younger and older men who were not with Areus on campaign.  And Sparta was ill-prepared for a siege, because it didn't have, and never had, any sort of defensive wall (the Walls of Sparta being made of flesh and bronze).  Areus knew of Pyrrhus' march, and was on his way back, but Pyrrhus arrived first.

The ruling council was debating sending the women away to Crete for their safety.  Arachidamia, speaking on behalf of the Spartan women, entered the discussion "with sword in hand," and contested this proposal, asking if the Spartan women were expected to survive the destruction of their own city.  So, the women stayed.  The Spartans began a defensive trench, of which the women, led by Arachidamia, "completed with their own hands a third."  She then led the women during the fighting, largely to supply weapons, food and drink, and remove wounded.  For a full day and night the Spartans held off ten times their number with their skill and makeshift defenses.  On the second day, Areus returned with 2000 more Spartan warriors, and Pyrrhus simply retreated, knowing he was not going to win.  He went on to attack Argos, where he was killed.

So, Arachidamia has other things written about her as well, particularly about her later life and support of a revival of the traditional ways of Sparta, and how she was betrayed and killed by political rivals.  I've chosen to ignore those parts.   :lol:

My Arachidamia is from Gothic Earth, and took a little more active role in the fighting during with Pyrrhus, actually entering combat along with some of the people she led.  She was the niece of the Agiad King Areus I (her mother's brother), and was to marry the Eurypontid King when she was of age.  She was trained in athletics, gymnastics, dance and such in the agoge (as Spartan girls were...grace and culture were frowned upon in favor of excercise and physical training), and learned to fight from her older brothers, who thought she showed a talent for it (being larger and stronger than most women, able to wear the armor and carry the shield).  I made her seventeen or so during the Siege, and two years later she was in the countryside training with her brothers (270 BCE), and lingered behind in the evening to watch the sunset.  That is when the Mists took her to Ravenloft.

She has been essentially lost ever since.  She revels in the challenges placed before her, in this land "of legends and myths come to life," but she searches for meaning in why she was brought here.  She believes the Gods brought her here to test her, to temper her into a Hero of legend, and that when she has accomplished this, she will be allowed to return home to Sparta.  Well, on good days she believes that.  Sometimes she thinks she has simply gone mad or has died and is in hell.  She is arrogant, convinced of her own superiority as only a Spartan born into privelage can be, sharp-tongued, and occasionally short-tempered, but she is also brave, skilled, and a born leader.  She desires nothing more than to follow in the footsteps of the legendary heroes...Theseus, Herakles, Perseus, Achilles, etc.  She pays homage to all the Gods, but Athena in particular.

But mostly Ara is just looking for a purpose, a cause.  She tends to be at loose ends most of the time.  She doesn't agree with the Laws of the Land or how they are enforced, but she understands that these are not her lands, and not her ways, and she must respect the rights of the natives to govern themselves.  She spends a lot of time suppressing banditry and the restless dead, and ever searching for the great cause that will forge her into the hero she knows she can be.  So, if you see her around, she's always up for something to do....
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Paul_H on December 21, 2011, 03:32:37 PM
Name: Oskar Thorinson
Gender: Male
Age: (Undermined) Adult Male
Hair: Reddish
Eyes: Blue
Height: 4'8""
Weight:

Origin: City of Splendour
Race: Torilian, Dwarf


Some people scoff at young men still living at home with their parents. But what if it's a Dwarf, with their deep respect for Elders, working in the family business of selling magical items?

Oskar's grown up in the cosmopolitan City of Splendour, seeing many different Races, gowing up with magic all around him. His father, Gloin, an Arcanist specialising in enchanting the finest arms and armour. Ddraig, his pseudodragon familiar ensured Oskar read the books he was supposed to growing up. (Though that was never a problem - Oskar's a voracious reader). Freia, his mother, a Cleric of Beronnar, ever present to heal the scrapes of a curious child.

It is the family business that brings Oskar here. Leaving Waterdeep for a nearby Elven encampment, (to collect some boots and cloaks), the mists fell about him...........
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Glade on December 30, 2011, 08:34:00 AM
Name: Mara
Clan: Copperstave
Age: 87 (Young for a Dwarf)
Hair: Coppery
Eyes: Sapphire Blue
Height: 4'3
Weight: Never ask a lady her weight!

Origin: Faerun, Cormyr
Race: Torillian, Dwarf Female

Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Butcher on January 02, 2012, 01:41:39 PM
Name: Isaak Metzger
Gender: Male
Age: 20
Hair: Dark Brown
Eyes: Brown
Height: 6'0"
Weight: 155 lbs

Origin: Waterdeep
Race: Half Elf

Born in the worst part of the docks district of Waterdeep, Isaak's life was destined to be sad from the start.
Being born to an elven whore with an alcoholic, abusive husband didn't make matters any better though. He learned to keep his
mouth shut at a young age, a trait that saved him from many beatings in his childhood. But that hadn't always stopped his
father from hurting him, or his mother. His father would always come home from his job at the docks drunk and ready to hit
his wife or son for any reason at all. Isaak thought he could do nothing but live with it until one day, when he was sixteen, his father beat his mother to death while extremely drunk. In that moment, seeing his mother's lifeless body on the floor, with his father standing over her with his fists covered in her blood, something snapped in Isaak's mind. He grabbed the nearest thing
he could use to fight, a butchering cleaver, and killed his father brutally. When he snapped out his rage, what he
saw was the butchered remains of his father, and his dead mother. Left with no choice but to flee, that is exactly what he
did. He only stayed long enough to clean the blood from himself and pack what he would need to survive, including the cleaver.

For the next four years he lived at an inn in one of the districts far away from the docks. Some time in the first year of his new life he joined a gang of murderers and thieves. Working with them was something he didn’t quite like at first, but he got used to it.  He had learned a lot from his new life of crime, skills that would be useful later. Among the things he learned was how to fight. But whenever he got into a fight with someone who reminded him of his father, he would lose all control and kill them in a rage while laughing manically, before butchering the remains. It was during this time that he earned the nickname “Laughing Butcher” from his fellow gang members. But after four years of such a life he was fed up with it and saved as much coin as he could and joined a caravan looking for extra hands, but that's where his real troubles began. As it turns out, the gang that he joined had caught wind of his plan to ditch them and leave Waterdeep, and they were not happy. They stalked the caravan he was in until they had left the well patrolled roads around Waterdeep and attacked. In the midst of the battle Isaak
fled into a forest that was beside the road they were on and was chased by two of his once fellow gang members.
He noticed the forest was starting to getting more and more misty, so he ran headlong into the mist in an attempt to lose them.
As he was running he looked over his shoulder to see if they were still following him and tripped over a rock then hit his
head on a fallen tree. When he woke up he found he was no longer in the forest, but he was alive, and for that he was grateful.
As he got up he studied his new surroundings and saw a camp not far from him so he headed towards it.
And that is how his new life in Barovia began.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Glade on January 12, 2012, 06:13:19 AM
Name: Lilian Aelson
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Deity: Lathander ( Chosen Champion )
Eye Colour: Light blue
Height: 5'7
Age: 19
Hair Colour: Sandy blonde
(If someone wants to use this picture for her signature and info. By all means!)

(http://i1233.photobucket.com/albums/ff394/GladeRune/artblondecloseupdigitalartdramaeyesfemaleportraitsexywoman-ddea2a64a19a41807d1ac87c6d2617e9_i1-1-1.jpg)



Title: Camay And Castra MacCay
Post by: Vaku on January 20, 2012, 07:54:13 PM
     An accident, a fatal mistake is how their mourning clan would remember the moment that took the lives of tanist Cora ApMorden, mother Fiona MacCay and her twin daughters Camay and Castra-- who under care and advisory of the demon Sunder, did in fact feign death and run from their former home from the murderous blaze they themselves started.

     Corrupted slowly by Sunder in infancy the twins would begin to see their world via demented eyes, that under better care may have bred protectors rather than destroyers. A surrogate to their unknown father, Sunder would spin morals told in stories by their tanist. Heroes would become villains, treasures would become trash, most of all their emotions for pleasure would become warped. Little in their lives was left untouched by their corrupter who would in time, as the sisters matured, take a smaller role with his involvement in thier actions. The sisters were now worthy young malefactors, surpassing even the dangerous expectations of their impish up-bringer.

     Society for them in the depths of the Forlorn was neglected. Whereas others of their clan would venerate their history, the twins would mock it, and where worry at potential skirmishes with goblyns threatened their existence, Camay and Castra welcomed the potential horror of loss. Their interactions would for the most part be confined to themselves, a respect only reserved for their own and those whom they chose to be their beloved.

     In abandoning their clan, the twins would come to occupy a cave near the misty border of Barovia. There in the shallow earth they made their mark manipulating and molding the puny cave life. Castra would joyously scorch and freeze bats and bugs while Camay would toy with the remnants furthering each of their talents and interests. In time the twins would come to know their first loved, Sol, a simple animated bonebat, a testament to their growing power.

     In later years, the twins would exhaust what interest was to be had in their cave dwelling. They would leave their sanctuary for their first time on their eighteenth year, North to Barovia to follow their instincts, making way for manipulation and giving way to their desires.
Title: The Falkovnian Trio
Post by: Vaku on January 23, 2012, 01:22:04 AM
Erhard Wund - History

     Born then branded as the son of hard working Falkovnian parents, Erhard Wund would come into adolescence understanding that if things need to be done, he ought to get down and do the work himself. The branding of the Hawk's Head, as well as a memorable public impaling would serve as constant reminder that he was to be loyal to his Kingfuhrer. This attitude bred in him a self-reliance expected of many hard-skinned Falkovnians. In part to how he was raised he would also grow to become unforgiving of others, especially his parents, learning well, the art of 'Grudge Holding.'

     Despite having a disposition that would be suited for a hermit, Erhard would become a sociable creature, learning to use people for as long as they were able to further his goals. From strangers, to friends to even his own parents, Erhard would learn to become comfortable with manipulation. These efforts to control and abuse others in this way payed off most in his education. However rudimentary, this experience would set in motion his desire for the unknown, as well as his desire to further his literacy.

     His father, a patrol officer in Stagengrad, where Erhard was raised, would make sure that Erhard was aware and abiding by all the typical Falkovnian prejudices. From belittling females, to hating the fops he saw as the Demetieuleuse, Erhard would become premiere military material, however he would not go down this road. Postponing pressure to enlist as long as he could, his father would finally confront him, giving him an ultimatum: be enlisted or disowned. This private argument would concern him greatly for the following night as he pondered what could be done. The following morning however, the weight of this all fell off his shoulders with the news of his father's death. In the following two days, Erhard would begin recording his thoughts— readable as the "The Private Journal of Erhard Wund" (http://www.nwnravenloft.com/forum/index.php?topic=26477.msg322747#msg322747)

     His mother lives now as a widow in Stagengrad, raising her other two baby children, burdens bestowed by her husband eight years ago. In his journal, Erhard mentions that he is following his Grandfather's journal as a rudimentary guide to riches. His Grandfather's journal would describe himself as worldly, pointing in the direction of the adventurous, playable domains. Erhard carries only the first part of his grandfather's records. The second part is said to be off with his Grandfather, who for all Erhard knows, may have died adventuring with it in hand.



Erhilf Appenzeller - History

     The Hexenmeister Erhilf Appenzeller was born and branded in Lekar. An only child to a soldier mother and officer father, Erhilf was the broken link in a lineage of soldiers. In adolescence his disposition had been meek and disappointing and his physical build weak and not demanding of respect. On request, Erhilf can recite a number of beatings he had taken from his childhood peers as he uses these events to fuel his desire to further himself from the rut of the diminutive grouping people put him in.

     In trying to overcome his shrinking self esteem, Erhilf left the expectations of his parents to engage in a field they themselves see as pointless and unrewarding; Erhilf left the road of the soldier for the role of the mage. In abandoning the sure-to-fail life as a garrison guard, Erhilf came to the steps of the Radiant Tower at sixteen years old. There he showed potential to officials in the Ministry of the Arcane and thus became a student of this military division. Here he took with himself not only the determination to make well of his name, but also the narrow wisdom of his bloodline.

     His knowledge and ability to learn quickly would be overshadowed by the size of his ego. Within the many chambers of the Radiant tower, Erhilf would find dozens of ways to get those he spoke to upset with him for how he would address questions and form statements. This knack of his to speak before he thinks successfully delayed his advancement within the Ministry of the Arcane. Taking almost fourteen years long, Erhilf would finally receive the title of Hexenmeister— what others would call a wizard had they been trained elsewhere.

     In time, Erhilf would cease to struggle to make himself respected in the Radiant Tower, for soon enough, he would be leaving on assignment with an unknown Erhard Wund. As for his duty, Hexenmeister Appenzeller was instructed by an— at the time Radiant Tower Official, Otto Kaiser, to oversee the venture of Erhard Wund, and in due time, return to the tower to report risk assessment of his idea. It is not clear who took interest in the letter Erhard wrote to the Ministry of Arcane, though one thing is sure, someone superior to Otto Kaiser wishes to see the results of these men in their endeavor.



Franz Waldemar - History

     The lonely mercenary, Franz Waldemar was born and branded near Aerie, to parents with an abfalduz leaf addiction. He grew up as the last child and only boy with seven sisters. From a toddler to early adulthood, Franz would take part in the rough life farming with his family. During this period he would encounter many of the skill sets that would be needed to live comfortably with no budget or working devices. He became skilled in handling exotic farm tools, making makeshift locks, stealing bait from hunters' traps and being generally aware of his surroundings.

     Part of this awareness would rub off into his social life as he would see quite clearly the trashy existence he was in. He resented drugs, for what they did to his parents, the sense of dependence sickening him. Mostly he was aware of how each of his sisters were slowly courted, then married off to military men. It was not this series of marriages that disturbed him so much, since he was fascinated with love— it was the events after that caused him a great displeasure for Falkovnian military.

     In knowing that it is law that when a woman marries, she must give herself to a superior officer, Franz dreaded the idea of this bond. He would grow to be a farmer, and make well in this field of work. However the fates would toy with him as he fell madly in love with a woman he met. Her name was Emma Hauser and on his twenty-fifth year he married her. The night of the ceremony he urged that Emma not—with all her power, give herself to Garrison Officer Manstein, for it was he, she was going to fill her duty to. Franz knew in the back of his head the unpleasantness this request would cause her in the bedchamber, but hoped with all his heart nothing would happen.

     As the powers in play would have it, Emma would return to the farmstead unharmed, but the damaging deed was done, she had given herself to the Garrison Officer— rather willingly. Franz would hate the life he was dealt for three more years before venturing to Lekar. In that time, Franz would purchase a dog he called Anya, that would become the surrogate wife he could not have and give his heart to. He loved and spoiled it till its death, but lets the memory of his true companion live on in a patch of tanned hide of the hound— a fleshy piece he himself cured.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Crimson Shuriken on January 23, 2012, 10:32:42 PM
Name:  Jastria Estelda
Origin:   Evermeet, Abeir-Toril
Faction:  None
Gender:  Male
Age:  ~200 years
Race:  Sun Elf
Profession:  Mage and Researcher and Eldritch Knight
Build: Short, somewhat muscular, angular features, cat like eyes
Eyes: Green
Hair:  Fiery Red
Skin:  Bronze
Languages : Elven, Sylvan, Draconic, Celestial

Jastria is a very driven to succeed Sun Elf. She is arrogant and believes that Sun Elves are the greatest race to ever grace the realms of mortals. She has a kind heart and will help someone in need. She does not desire to be the centre of attention and is perfectly satisfied to be left alone to read. She has two major fears, the Drow and evil fey such as spriggans or quicklings. She will oppose any evil if the need arises or she is asked. In fact she enjoys being asked. She sees humans are rather insignificant in the wide scheme and does not usually desire friendship, believing the fact that she will outlive them greatly to be counterproductive to her happiness. She is a devout worshipper of the The Seldarine and knows for a fact that gods mingle in the affairs of mortals. Her major weakness is her pride and lust for knowledge (though not at the expense of others) She loves good aligned fey such as pixies, sprites, nymphs, brownies etc. They are very populous where she comes from, and are a fact of life and a source of harmony.

She has a very deep friendship bond with her pixie Riela, who also comes from Evermeet. She would do anything to protect her, and losing her would be a huge blow to her psyche. She lives in Jastria's bags.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Reigh on January 27, 2012, 12:24:10 PM
Name: Rence Steel
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Origin Kyrnnian Human from Dragonlance
World: Krynn
Age: 30's

He was a simple hunter gatherer with a wife who spoke well common, and three kids who he hunted for. He hunted so much that he unlearned how speak common just so his family was well fed that was not all he did...
       Krynn was divided into five separate ages Rence being from the fifth age, the Age of Despair. This age was a 300 year depression starting from the the second age, the Age of Dreams that had three great wars between dragons and their minions. Following the Third Dragon War, in the Age of Might, a Cataclysm obliterates the great empire of Istar and changes almost the entire surface of Krynn.
       In the Age of Despair, Rence had to make a living for his family doing anything he could while amongst others who where doing the same to survive. This made Rence into a man brought up by chaos.. living, eating and breathing it. Disorder and dismay surrounded him day in by day out everyday was a challenge and he rose to the top honing his skills with it.
      His wife and kids were his sanctuary from all his misdeeds and chaos that gnawed at his soul and mind. The warm happy expressions on their faces when he arrived with another days meal was enough to calm to storm.



Title: Doru Vodascu
Post by: INSTINCT92 on January 27, 2012, 03:21:14 PM
Name:  Doru Vodascu
Origin:   Barovia, Vallaki
Faction:  Garda
Gender:  Male
Age:  20 years
Profession:  Garda, stealth and detecton specialised
Build: Short and lean.
Height: 5'1
Eyes: Dark Barovian Brown
Hair:  Black
Skin:  Somewhat tanned
Languages : Balok

Doru's parents died of one of the diseases that ravaged the slums, so for a good few years Doru was raised by his grandfather, still in the slums. Food was scarce for the majority of his youth and that did not aid in any growth, he remained thin and lithe into adulthood. He was an intelligent boy and his father worked in trading books, though due to the lack of popularity it kept him in the slums. However he taught Doru until when he aged 14, his grandfather passed away. He was alone in the slums, a few other young friends and he did what they needed to do to survive. Doru was smart, and he knew he was small and quick. He taught himself to pick pockets, steal food, open locked pantries. Him and his mates would do this far into adulthood, though their numbers dwindled as the less skilled or lucky got caught...
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Twisted Visoins on January 28, 2012, 07:02:45 PM
Gromlick Stronghold

Race: Half - Elven.
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Hight: 5'8''
Weight: 180 lbs.
Build: Average muscular build, Very Healthy looking.
Hair: Black, Long with one section on the left and right sides of his head in line with his temples
        bradded and twisted together in the back leaving the extra bradded hair to dangle freely.
Skin: Light tan.
Languages spoken: Common, Elven.


Background

      Gromlick Stronghold was born and raised in the Free City of Greyhawk. Son of a Elven Archer working as a scout for the City guard. His name Shea Stronghold. His mother a human named Keighley Stronghold a fair haired blonde made her keep by singing the praises of battles fought won and lost along with story telling in local taverns and festavals. She was a local bard as beautiful as her angelic vioce. He had no ciblings. Before the mist Gromlick worked for the local guard in Greyhawk doing the normal duties required by one holding such a postion. He would often go with his father on scouting patrols when allwed trying to learn what his father had to teach. In his off time he could be found at the archery range trying new tricks with his bow or in places where his mother was performing. He would tell her he was there because he enjoyed listening to her " that was part true " but it was more to look after her in some of the more undesirable locations she would play in. Gromlick often would try and learn some of the tales and songs his mother would teach him, His delivery and voice no matter how hard he tried always seemeda bit off, Regardless he was one not to give  into failure and contiunes to this day


The night of the mist Grom was on a scouting patrol with his father except this night was differen. As they were standing on the ridge looking down upon the tree line to the forest below Shea (Groms father) had a serious and yet concerned look upon his face as he spoke to Gromlick " I have never seen fog like this before, I want you to stay at my side you got that ? " Gromlick nods as they began their decent to the edge of the forest below. The scouting party to the right enters the forest with the motion of She's right hand. No sooner had the first team leader and his men enter did the mist come out from the tree line with wails of pain following in its wake. Shea pushing Grom back shouting instructions for him to flee, He motions for the remaining men to follow him in to aid the others. They move in as Grom on his backside watches them be consumed by the mist almost seeming to embrace them as they entered. Cries of pain and orders to flee echo throught the forest as Gromlick came to his feet his heart racing his only concern is his father whom he can hear battling with someone or something. In mere moments all goes quiet not a sound can be heard other than whispers and the slightness of the mist rolling in. Gromlick rushes into the woods calling out to Shea deeper and deeper into the forest he goes the mist seemingly allowing Grom passage till in the road ahead lays a shadowed figure, Silent but yet it seems to taunt and beckon Gromlick to come forth. He shouts " Coward have at me ! " Draws his bow placing two arrows at once onto the string as he draws it back and holds his aim true before releasing the tension on the string. Both arrows with haste dart at their intended target, Shadowed figure not moving seemed to almost consume the arrows shot at it. Grom pauses before he rushes in towards the dark figure trying to reload another two arrows he shouts " You cannot win ! " Then with his next step " THUD !?! " A pole arm across the bridge of his nose. He is out for sometime when he wakes he is at the edge of the mist where he can see a fire and some carts off in a slight distance.

The rest shall be found under Grormlicks leather journal as his new life unfolds.

Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Cursed Ink on February 21, 2012, 05:27:03 AM
Name: Valen Dirge
Age: 20
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Height: 6"2
Build: Heavy set shoulders and arms, healthy muscled build.
Hair: Long, straight brown hair, shoulder length.
Eyes: Ice Blue
Skin: Lightly tanned
Languages: Nidalan, Common
Origin: Nidala, Shadowlands, Domain of Dread.

Background:

Born in the Domain of Nidala, a land of darkness and terror, he grew up like many of his kin, working to keep his family fed and clothed from a young age, his life was like many others, a depressing system of paranoia and suspicion. The differance between he and the rest of his kin was like his friend Solomon, in their history they had great anscestors, Knights of Belenus who'd fought to keep their people safe. Though now, the inquistion of Belenus and the spys of Elena were everywhere oppressing the people, they came to realise... this was not Belenus' work. After defying the inquistion they set off into the night, avoiding the forests of Avonleigh and it's encroaching hand, and arrived in Barovia.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Head Trauma on February 21, 2012, 02:26:57 PM
Name: Nikolaz Maccon
Age: 20
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Height: 5‘10
Weight: 145 lbs
Build: Slim 
Hair: Black
Eyes: Smoky blue
Skin: Lightly tanned
Languages: Darkonese, Bolak, Dalespeak, Lamordian
Origin: Martira Bay, Darkon.

Background: Nikolaz grew up in Martira Bay without a mother (for the most part), she died when he was six years old, giving birth to his sister whom died shortly after his mother. His father fell heavily into drinking after the death of his beloved wife, so Nikolaz was left to fend for himself.

On those rare occasions that Nikolaz came home, his father would beat him in a drunken rage.. Nikolaz would endure these beatings and the torment that his father bestowed upon him, and he came to realize that his father blamed him for the death of his mother and sister.

Martira Bay was not a easy place to raise oneself, and Nikolaz often found himself getting into trouble more often then not. He learned to be an opportunist, and with his quick wit and talent for going unseen, he discovered that he could get almost anything he wanted. He did what he had to do to survive and sometimes what he did was not nice. Petty theft was only one of the things young Nikolaz did to survive on the streets, murder was another. Sometimes the killings were in self-defense, but on a few occasion... he did it for pay.

Nikolaz did have a mentor of sorts which came in the form of a elderly man named Gregory. He did not approve of Nikolaz’ lifestyle, but he seemed to care for the boy none the less. Gregory owned and operated a books store in Martira Bay, so he taught Nikolaz to read and write and Nikolaz took the opportunity to read whatever books he could get his hands on in the elderly man’s bookstore. Ghost stories were his favorite, even though they gave him such horrid nightmares.

After the death of his father (which was a mystery as to how he met his end), Nikolaz felt watched day and night. Something wasn’t right in Martira Bay, he was beginning to feel like he was being stalked by something, and he didn’t like that one bit. He had heard rumor of the Kargat, and he feared that they were coming for him.

He talked this over, in hush tones of course, with Gregory. He had come to think of Gregory like a grandfather...

“Nik, my boy, you should go to Vallaki in Barovia. You should be safe there.” Nikolaz took his surrogate grandfather’s advice, and headed for Barovia. That feeling of being watched never really left him though, it only grew less noticeable the further he went from Martira Bay. But it was always there, making him look over his shoulder from time to time, searching the gloom of the shadows.

Personality profile: Nikolaz is something of a rat. He survives off of others, he’s paranoid, and cynical of the people around him, specially in this new land he finds himself in. He’s “loyal” to his one time Lord, Azalin, but that’s more out of fear than true loyalty.

He’s still an opportunist and will take advantage of any situation that comes up, if it will benefit him in the end. He may be a coward when he’s alone, but when he is in the company of “friends” he can be daring. He has no problem with killing another person as long as they don’t see it coming. He’ll study a target for weeks on end, sometimes even a month before making his move.

Inspiration for Nikolaz:. The assassin Vlad Talos (author Steven Brust).

Fears: Nikolaz is first and foremost afraid of ghosts. The stories he’s read have installed a deep dread of these incorporeal undead creatures. He knows well enough that such creatures exist, he has read Von Richten’s Guild to Ghost. (Gregory had that book within the bookstore in Martira Bay.)

Secondly, he’s afraid of Lord Azalin Rex, and his secret police the Kargat. Nikolaz has no idea that a large amount of the higher ranking Kargat are undead or lycanthropes. But he is aware that the Kargat are out there... after all, people do whisper about them throughout Darkon. It is the Kargat that Nikolaz thinks killed his father, and the reason he felt watched when in Martira Bay.

Nikolaz is suspicious of anyone he doesn’t really know all that well, ergo, he’s not very comfortable in crowds. But he knows the value of going about within a crowd, such large groups of people are good for hiding ones actions.. which is another reason he’s not all that fond of social gatherings.

Nikolaz is also afraid of mirrors. Mostly this stems from odd things that have happen in his past (seeing shadows and things out of the corner of his eyes in a mirror) but they have increased since his short lived addiction to opium.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: XayneZ on April 26, 2012, 10:39:11 PM
Name: Cake (Victoriana Pavalenco)
Age: 138
Race: caliban
Gender: Female
Height: 2'9
Weight: 68 lbs
Hair: Silvery Blue
Eyes: Dark blue, edged with a midnight black
Skin: A fading gray, going white
Languages: Common, Balok, High Mordentish, All forms of Elven, Gaelic, Old Norse, and can read some draconic runes
Origin: Barovia

Born as Victoriana Pavalenco, the caliban known to some as Cake had her own brand of infamy about her. At her birth, her mother died and her father cast her away for her pure silver skin. She was thrown into the streets of the Village Barovia, and left to die. She was luckily rescued by an outlander by the name of Filius McArthur. He took her to a nearby abandoned Ezrite shrine and attempted to nurse the child back to health. The child would not eat anything, however, no matter how much the man may try. Days past, and the child never wept from hunger, but grew sharp, pointed teeth very quickly. Worried that the child would soon die, despite her evident abnormalities, Filius sought out a doctor who may have been able to heal her. The only one she could find was a young man by the name of Narcansus. His brother had been a caliban that was slain by the garda of Vallaki, and he had his own set of hatred directed towards the discrimination against calibans. He took the child under his wing (a rather amusing pun, if you've the pleasure to have met him recently) and attempted himself to aid her. She still, however, refused to eat anything, until Filius came one day into Narcansus's hospice with a large, fresh honey cake. The child devoured the entire cake quickly, and then spoke as if she was a decade older, saying "That was quite delicious father. Might you have another?" The two men then dubbed the child Cake, as it was all she would ever eat, and began to teach her about the world around them. Narcansus taught her of logic and reasoning, and Filius taught her of the arcane arts, at which she was already marvelous at. The 3 month old child grew swiftly into the body of what could have passed for a 5 year old, and stopped growing completely at that point. But her mind never stopped.

After 10 years, Cake was out adventuring with Filius and Narcansus into fantastic new places, all across the land of mists. Their adventures ranged from the slaying of werewolves, down to the hunting of lost treasure. The three companions were never separated and lived for years like this, without a care in the world and love in their hearts for once another. However, in the land of the mists, nothing is perfect for long.

The last adventure of the trio came a short while after Cake's 16th birthday, and they ventured into the deep forests near what is now the Midway Haven. They had heard of a hag living there, tormenting the travelers and animals nearby. They continued on through the shadowy bracken until they at last came upon the hag's den: a cave that was painted with the blood of her victims. She called out to them, and summoned many minions to fight them, of which the trio slew easily. Between Cake and Filius's magic and Narcansus's intelligence, nothing seemed impossible for them. However, while they were fighting, the hag was able to shoot a poisoned dart into Filius's back, felling him instantly. With the loss of their comrade, Narcansus and Cake became quickly overwhelmed by the demons the hag forced upon them. As the Hag began to cast a wicked curse that was to turn both Narcansus and Cake into her minions, Cake desperately tried to hatch up a plan. She was able to in just the nick of time, as the hag cast her curse. When the spell left her lips, Cake countered it with all her might, stunting her magical power forever by going beyond her boundaries. The hag was cast back and knocked unconscious, her wards having protected her mostly. The curse, however, was almost entirely avoided, apart from a single drawback: Narcansus had been changed from a tall and fair man, to a small, green, winged imp. The two of them tried to find their comrade, but all that remind of him was a pasty ash substance that neither could bear to look upon, and both of them retreated. They ran all the way to Barovia and sealed themselves tight within the very shrine to Ezra where Filius had tried to nurse her. There they awaited for the Hag's fury to subside, and so they waited for one hundred and twenty two years.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: TornFear on May 06, 2012, 11:32:02 PM
Name: Azeth Falzeed
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Hair: Bald
Eyes: left eye is Sandy brown, the right is milk white with blindness
Height: 5' 4'
Weight: 126 lbs
Origin: The Priador Tharch, Thay
Race: Human
Occupation: Red Wizard
Distinguishing Features: Azeth suffers from blindness in his right eye, and walks with a pronounced limp, his Right leg being a mangled mess.  His face and body bear various Tattoos.

My name is Azeth Falzeed, and I am of Thay.  My tale is...dark, But as part of my....let us call it, a graduation...i am required to write down my history up to this point...Tesseth claims it will focus my mind for what lies ahead.  She has not been wrong before.  So, I will write down my story, if only to focus my mind.

I was born in the Priador Tharch of Thay, a place now renowned for it's Tharchion, who just so happens to be a Zulkir.  My father was a soldier, born and raised.  My mother...so he claims...was a Red Wizard herself.  The story goes that he was serving at one of the Enclaves that dot Faerun, and when she saw him, she could not resist him.  When it became clear she was with child, she made my father swear an oath...which he did, claiming love.  Whether or not she loved him back has yet to be seen...But I digress.  The day of my birth, she sent my father, a wet nurse, and myself back to Thay.  I do not recall the journey, obviously.  And so, I grew up in Thay by the Sea.  They say I was a handsome child, but it would not be so obvious to look upon me now.  My father often received company...bureaucrats, merchants, tradesmen, sell swords, old companions...and occasionally, a Wizard.  When i was very young, one such Wizard came calling.  She was tall, garbed head to toe in red...and I knew what she was the instant she turned those eyes on me.  That very night, she took me from my Home.  She was my first Instructor...but I was not her first Apprentice.  She was training an older boy as well, Kezen.  I grasped the basics of the Art quickly, and was mastering Cantrips rapidly...But my Instructor had a large library, filled with numerous books...and I loved them.  I read as much as I could, devouring knowledge like a rabid animal. When I was ten, my master met her end while on the road.  The instant word reached Kezen and I, he turned on me.  I was unprepared, and his first strike blinded my right eye.  Minor spells were thrown, a mockery of a true spell duel...in the end, I crushed his skull with a silver statuette in the Master's library.  When another Wizard came to claim the apprentices, he found only me.  I was afraid the Wizard would strike me dead for killing an apprentice...but he just looked at me with his cold eyes, and said only this 'That will make my job easier', and that was it.  It was in that moment that I truly realized what kind of world I stepped into..one of deceit, power, and betrayal.  As I strode form the room, I gave one last look at Kezen, dead upon the floor, and I vowed that i would never be caught unprepared again.

My new Master was a harsh, violent old man with eyes like frosted steel.  The slightest error would earn me a backhand, and greater mistakes were met with darker punishments...Some nights I was left to sleep outdoors, with naught but my flesh for warmth.  Sometimes I would not eat for days...my focus would wander, and i would make a mistake...the punishments would mount.  For several years I labored under the man I dubbed 'The Tyrant'.  But I learned more than arcane prowess and the Histories of Thay...I learned patience.  For those years I gathered my fury.  Every strike, every cold night, every rumble of a starving stomach I remembered.  A night came when the Tyrant was visited by a Red Wizard.  I was invited to dine with them, where I was asked numerous questions about Theory, History and the Art...it was not until halfway through the meal that I realized why i was there...the Tyrant was parading me in front of his rival.  The moon was high when I was sent away, and I spent the rest of the night in the Library, reading a particularly interesting tome...If I recall it was titled "The Tombs of Sarazek, and the Undead That Dwell There: An in depth study of the burial rights, and methods used by the Priests for creating eternal guardians"...yes, That must be it.  Well, when the sun rose, the visiting Wizard came and collected me...apparently the Tyrant died in his sleep.

Her name was Tesseth, and she would be my final Instructor.  I spent my remaining years as an apprentice in her company, learning what she claimed to be 'The Truest Power of them All...Life and Death'.  For my final test, i was required to spend the night in a cavern beneath her home...and survive.  Down in the darkness, something waited...cold and hungry.  A simple cantrip for light proved to nearly be my undoing...for it brought Them running.  Shambling corpses threw themselves towards my light.  I could not have cast enough spells to destroy them all...So I fled.  Down through the dark I ran, my light calling to me all that my Master had left in the earth.  I ran for what seemed like hours, outpacing my pursuers.  I was elated! If only I could stay away from them for the night...But as I rounded a corner, my hopes shattered like a mirror fallen from above.  There before me stood a rickety skeleton, clad in tattered Apprentice robes, held together by flickering shadows.  Pinpoints of amber light shone from it's dark, empty sockets as it raised one bony hand.  I Swear to this day i heard it speak in instant before my the bones in my Right leg shattered.  My world want dark as I fell to the ground, struggling to keep my focus as my Masters last Apprentice moved towards me.  And there it was....Clarity.  In the darkest moment of my life, I was focused.  I sheathed myself in arcane armor, drawing a stone from the floor and flinging it into the jaws of my foe.  As it rattled backwards from the blow, I loosed another spell, calling a blade of force do dance before me.  As the Skeleton Apprentice moved towards me, it was met with the dagger of ruddy red light. But I knew it would not stop my foe.  It took all of my focus, but with my blade keeping the old Apprentice off of me, i was able to rattle off several more spells, staggering the Shambling creature before my conjured dagger drove itself through the eye socket.  For an instant, the world seemed to crawl to a stop...the dagger of light in the eye of a skeletal Apprentice...and then it all came flooding back into focus as the skeleton shattered, and my summoned blade faded from the world, and everything went black.

I awoke to find Tesseth standing above me, looking smug.  It had been several days since my dance with her last Apprentice...My leg had not set properly, an She would not send for a priest to fix it.  So I walk with a limp, and when it it cold, my bones ache.  Now I am writing in this book...I am the first of many pages...I imagine I am the first to survive her lessons...I suppose it does not matter.  A robe of Red awaits me in the hall.  I will be leaving to announce myself to the Tharchion, and then Home to tell my father.  And then i will take this world in my hands, and wring it for all it is worth.  I know Patience, I know Anger, I know Vengeance, and I know Power...and I know, wherever I tread, the world will kneel at my feet.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: XeroSnake on May 07, 2012, 09:29:25 PM
Name: Jerry Schrenshrick
Race: Rock Gnome
Age: 52
Height: 3'4'
Weight: 55 lb
Eye Color: Brown
Skin color: Tan with a hint of orange
Home Plane: Forgotten Realms

Jerry is rather vague about his background, but he will tell anyone who is curious enough the following;
Jerry was born to a traveling actor, on the road with a troupe, going from town to town to make what little they could preforming in the streets. Jerry never met his mother, and his father never told him anything about her. His response was always "erm..." or "she was a lady who I knocked up".

When Jerry was about 20, he left his father and the troupe to become a thief. He befriended a burglar and joined a local thieves guild.

After a few years, Jerry left the city he was staying in to travel Faerun's sword coast. Over that time, he took up several professions and apprenticeships, ranging from butcher to hunter to scout to dancer, and so on. More years  past, and Jerry felt like he should have a purpose. Despite an extreme lack of knowledge on the matter, he decided he would search for his mother.

After a decade and some of fruitless searching, Jerry had picked up on trail that seemed to lead to the land of Ravenloft. Why a Gnomish lady would go to such a place, he had no idea, but he figured that he had had enough of Faerun for now and searched on towards the dark and foreboding land, hoping to find something to help find his dear ole' mum.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: ghoul_hunter on May 16, 2012, 04:16:51 PM
Aries (active since mid April i think)

female

wood elf raised by moon elves.  Hails from FaeRun.

do not judge your books by their covers, judge them by their actions.  Aries is honest and speaks the truth with little conviction.  Life is long for elves so they must be able to live with what they have done.
quick to help, dont be scared to ask
(do not cross her either for she will not forget)

since coming to Ravenloft feels her gift of Magic will cleanse the evil that is throughout Barovia.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: XeroSnake on May 20, 2012, 01:01:49 AM
Name: Damian Cerean
Race: Barovian Human
Age: 23
Height: 6'3'
Weight: 166 lb
Eye Color: Brown
Skin color: Dark Tan
Home Plane: Ravenloft
Languages: Common, Barovian, Elven

Damian was born in Vallaki, a native Barovian. He was also born in the slums, which was not very nice.

Damian was like any red-blooded Barovian youth; he disliked outlanders, was petrified of the night, had a deep disdain for arcana as well as Calibans. During these adolescent years, Damian served as apprentice to a blacksmith. By the age of fifteen, however, Damian left in pursuit of a hunting apprenticeship, as the cold winters gave value to the pelts of local animals. Soon, by the age of nineteen, Damian was a full fledged hunter. His mother and father were proud; their son was putting food on the table and was an upstanding member of society.
One day, Damian said goodbye to his parents  to go apply his trade and make a few dead animals. He never came home.

Damian had gone deep into the woods, chasing down a stag when something incredibly unfortunate happened; a bear. A bear happened. Bears were no fun. He was struck down almost instantly.

Expecting not wake up again, he indeed, woke up again, inside a massive metal machine that felt like it was constantly elevating. Damian had been taken aboard a spell-jammer ship. Figuring that he was stuck on this ship with no way to go back home, he put his knowledge of Common to use, made friends with the crew of the ship and traveled through the planes.
Damian experienced the strangest of places, going across the Forgotten Realms, GreyHawk, Planescape, among others. His journey lasted around a year and a half, and made him a very different person. He forgot how to hate calibans, he wasn't nearly as afraid of night as he was, and the most important thing; he actually learned some magic.

Damian never really recovered physically from the bear attack he fell victim to ages ago. So, rather recently in fact, Damian decided to become full on magician. After having studied some magic, he came home to Ravenloft, confident in his new self and his new abilities but also afraid; if he was ever discovered to be a magician, he would be shunned by his people. He has decided, while home, he would hide all of his talents and act like a normal Barovian. Except maybe he could avoid hating outlanders so much.

Damian is also sort of a linguist. During his leave, he studied language and actually managed to master Elven.

Soon, he hopes to visit his parents. Maybe they'll still love him when they see him . . .
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Brotacon on May 24, 2012, 12:00:00 PM
Name: Urn Baron
Race: Human
Age: 28
Height: 6'2'
Weight: 180 lb
Eye Color: Brown
Skin color: Pale
Languages: Common
Origins: Aramore (non official setting)

(http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i211/Cluey3/urnnotext.jpg)
(OOC: This is a drawing I did for our tabletop game. Our setting is a 17th Century, Low Fantasy variation on traditional DnD)

A tall, heavily buillt man with fighting on his mind. He has fiery red hair and a face rugged and handsome.

Born the youngest son to a wealthy father in the bustling northern city of Hawkset, Urn found the life of a noble child utterly boring. So, aged nineteen, he walked out into the world to find his fame and fortune. He fell in with a group of travelling adventurers, who dubbed themselves jokingly "The Last Knights of Aramore"; believing that the romantic ideal of a knight was a folly reserved for children's stories. The group wandered around the Continent of Aramore looking for maidens to rescue and taverns to visit. Their deeds became infamous amidst decent folk, and they became known as "The Last Rakes of Aramore". A name which they loved even more. Urn took pride in the fact that, whilst not the most noble of travellers, they never resorted to banditry and remained true to their word.

After defeating a potent Fire Wizard who had terrorised an entire town and killed many a good man; Urn found himself enveloped in what at first he figured to be steam...

But steam had never been this icey on the skin, nor sent chills up the spine. He found himself lost in twisting darkness until... the sound of music and faint campfire.

He sometimes feels that, whilst walking through the dim lands of Barovia, that there is most likely a life where, after defeating the Wizard, things worked out differently

But then he peers into the darkness of the night and realises that whatever fate awaits that Urn Baron, he does not share it.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: ManticoreRO on June 08, 2012, 04:47:16 AM
Cari Ma'fer

Race: Half-elf
Age: Unknown (early to mid twenty)
Height: Average human height
Weight: Unknown (average to slim)
Physical characteristics: Long fiery red hair (always in the worst state of disarray), blue eyes and round face. Her body is well proportioned. Long pointy ears stick out from under her hair. Any skin visible (including face) is dirty.
Clothing: Dirty rags, better said pieces of clothing wrapped around and held in place by ropes made of tree bark. Keeps flowers in her hair whenever possible.

Born from human mother and elf father, in a village somewhere in the southern region of The Great Forest. Whole village was slaughtered by orcs when she was just four years old, forcing her to grow up alone in the forest. She barely knows how to speak any language (she may also not understand many words spoken) but she can easily communicate with animals. She is very shy but extremely curious. She is very afraid of anything built by civilization, but sometimes the curiosity may get the best of her. Has a well developed sense of danger, and may know beforehand if a place or person is dangerous.
Title: Fu Myong-hui
Post by: Evil_Lyn on July 01, 2012, 03:30:05 PM
Character Biography

Class: Monk
Name: Fu Myong-hui
Height: 5'5 (65 Inches)
Weight: 110 LBS (49.8 KG)
Eye Color: Light Brown
Hair Color: Black
Ethnicity: Asian - Gothic Earth: Masque of the Red Death
Origin: Songang-ni, Asia (In present day Korea) in 1320 Springtime

Synopsis:

In the spring of 1320 A.D. when the cherry blossoms bloomed over the harbor of Songang-ni:  a child was born.  It was a girl child.  But her tidings had been fore told by her own mother’s dreams that the child would bring her death.  The child would come in blood and the tears of her father.  But the mother chose to ignore these dreams of death.  She had two other boys to take care of and had little time to worry about her dreams.  The only people that she told of these dreams were the monks who had an outgoing monastery in the city.  The monks had forewarned the young mother to tell her family what was going to happen so that no one could be blamed for such ill tidings.  But the mother still did not.  She had the baby on the Eve of a rolling tide and no moon was in the sky.  Darkness closed in around them like an envelope – even as the young mother lay there dying in her bed.  Blood smeared over her lips where she had kissed the child.  Fu was born of blood and darkness – and that is all her father saw in her from that day on. 
Fu was not a troubled child growing up, but her brothers hated her.  When she was two they tried to drop her in the sea until her father caught them.   He punished them by sending them away to find wives and lives of their own.
 
Fu’s father, the fisherman day in and day out would bring her fish to store and cook.  And she would cook them just as her mother had.  Ever since her mother had died her father had been somber and sullen however, Fu did not know him any other different as that is all she had known him.  He did not try to find another wife at all – but on his off time from the sea he would just stare out over the cliffs and off into the sea where he had sent his wife.  She came from the sea, so he returned her to it.  Fu would stare at her father, saddened by this hobby of his.  Other fathers played with their children and went to markets and studied even.  But her father did nothing.  A part of him that she had never known was missing and nothing could fill it but death. 

When Fu turned ten years old in 1320 she was sent away to the monks at their forward Monastery in their province of Asia.  Fu journeyed for what seemed to be years to the main monastery in the Himalayan Mountains.  High above the clouds and the sea’s and forests where only cold wind and snow and ice glaciers roamed.  Shortly after her arrival – Fu received a black scroll, signifying death.  Her father had committed an honorable suicide in memory of his wife, to join her.  It was then that Fu learned that some love is never forgotten nor never forgiven.  The child knew that her brothers would not try to contact her – they had tried to kill her when she was younger.  Why would they be any different now?
The monks in the monastery were her guardians now.  They were her mother and her father.  They were her teacher and her masters.  They trained her in the arts of hand to hand combat to defend her on the road in the future.  It was almost unheard of: training a female to do this kind of work.  But Fu had insisted that her interest in the future was to travel the road and help any who might be in trouble – if at all to have her ancestors and her dead mother to forgive her when it was at her end as well.  Fu also studied the art of Math which had been copied and compiled from the Arabian countries as well as art from Italy.  Fu wanted to see the world however and not just read about it.
The young girl, Fu Myong-hui, studied martial arts for 12 years of her life with no rest.  Every single day she was outside on the snow covered dais either hitting a straw dummy or hitting her masters.  She was not the best student they had but nor was she the worst.  Best of all, she had the talent and the fire to become one of the best with the will to learn. 

By this time, Fu was 22 years old in the year 1342.  It was winter when the Himalayan Monks got word from Europe by a contact that the Europeans were suffering from a mysterious illness.  It was not like the illness of the stomach or the illness of the cough.  It was a plague that was sweeping through Europe and projected to only get worse with time.  This is when Fu’s masters came to her and told her that now her time had come.  She was needed in Europe to help the sick and needy.  This would be a lesson to her, a valuable lesson if she survived it herself.  The masters knew that she could die, but she had the fire and she wanted to see the world.  The Masters were far too old for such a feat. 

Fu traveled the road for many months and years:  confronting bandits if they had approached her – or murderers in the woods of Asia.  She scathed the Arabian Desert and got only a glimpse from high in the mountains of the grand palaces of gold that the masters had spoken about before moving on. 
It took her a long time to get to Europe through her survival.  But she only grew stronger with the travel.  When she got there it was the year 1347 A.D.  The Black Plague was on the brink of now becoming an epidemic.  The moment Fu stepped into Italy, she saw it.  The country smelled of death.  Piles of bodies rose as high as nearly buildings.  They burned the bodies.  These bodies were black in the nostrils with boils all over them.  The country was filthy as she passed through Italy.  Then further on into France.  Finally, she got to Britain where she was supposed to meet her contact.  But he was never found. 

Present:
‘I walked down a lone dark alley in the jet of night.  A raven was standing in the middle of the road.  At first I believed the creature to be looking at me.  But then it hoped over to a body and began pecking at a diseased victim’s black cuts.  The night was quiet, many people were dead.  I am looking to have not gotten infected by this plague.  There was no one in this street at all but the firelight of the lamps making dancing shadows that played with my eyes.  It was soon after that it began to rain.  I was always warned to watch for the rain in Britain as it can be treacherous for disease to spread.

‘But a fog came over me.  At first it was light – but then it grew thicker like spoiled milk in front of my eyes.  My wooden shoes found purchase then instead of the dirty and half cobblestone of the poor street – of leaves.  No longer could I see the dim lamp lights burning.  But darkness consumed me and swirled around me.  Now I find myself lost in the woods with this mist that seems never ending.’

--Fu Myong-hui Circa 1348 A.D. (Lost to the Mists)

Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Boots on July 02, 2012, 04:04:15 AM
...The woman ran in the night with a small bundle held tightly to her breast. The night would hide her from those she wished would not see her leaving.
After many nights of running, hiding and fearing she reached a small cabin and placed the bundle carefully by the door; after a moment of possibly regretting her decision, she put two fingers to her lips and then to the small bundle of blankets and fur, and walked away with tears streaming down her face; her dark slim figure fading away into the night...

That bundle was me. My name? Nadya "Lala" Hearne. Named after my mother, who has not made any appearances since that day. The cabin she brought me to that night belonged to my father, who found me that next morning near frozen to death and screaming my little head off 'till my face was purple. He told me when I reached the age of ten that my mother was a Vistana, of the Naiats. This meant little to me at the time, as I had grown up not knowing anything about her, or myself really. He tried to explain to me what they were, but could not teach me much as he did not know much himself. Father was a merchant, so we travelled a lot, I learned to speak perfect common and a few words of other languages, though not enough to hold a conversation. He passed away just before my eighteenth birthday, so I decided to set off on my own.. try and find some answers and learn more about who I was and where I belonged. I had always been the timid type, I always stayed well away from other children and.. when I reached my womanhood, men. The world was shocking to me without my father by my side to guide me, but after a year of travelling on my own I soon found my place in the world, performing in taverns and on the side of the street, taking any coin anyone would give me to survive.

Though, recent activities and people of late have changed me. Not for the worse either.
My confidence has begun to bloom with the coming of winter. Perhaps I will soon find out why.


Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Syl on August 16, 2012, 10:33:53 PM
Sylvonas Blackwing. AKA Syl, Blade, or Elizabith. . She knows what it's like. to do whatever it takes to survive. But then not many have had to live where she came from. Each day was a fight for survival. killing, taking what she needed just to make it to the next day. Always cursed because of the runes on her right arm and back. As she came of age she was sent to Krynn. a land wher they control magic and need a licence to use it. Once she had covered her arm and her back she set off on her own path. Killing for a living, wether it be a human, dwarf, elf, undead, or even demons. She began to make a small name for herself as a mercenary. She was never seen without her weapons, She began to lose it a bit when people began to be to afraid t oeven aproch her to hire her. She started doing as she pleased then until she decided to leave Krynn thanks to the help of someone she became friends with. Cursing the place she was sent from and Krynn.

Boarding the wagon she was told to get on if she wanted to leave Krynn. She was dropped off in a distant land and she began to wander around through fog and mist. Being over run by the mist she passed out only to wake finding her cloths armor and weapons have all been taken away from her as she entered the world of the mist. No longer able to remember her past or how she got here she now sets off to become strong. Enjoying the thrill of the chase and slaying anything that might be stronger then her. She will do what it takes to become stronger wether it be from a teacher or any other means she will become stronger..


Sylvonas Blackwing
22 years old Five foot nine with black hair and dark amber eyes
Chaotic Nutural boardering Chaotic evil
If you make her mad you best be perpared for the concequences of what will happen
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Zhernebog on September 02, 2012, 10:09:22 AM
Name: Malekkor Valdon
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Hair: Ice-white
Eyes: Grey
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 185 lbs
Race: Human
Occupation: Lord Knight, Order of the White Dragon
Distinguishing Features: Armor is dyed in glacial whites and blues, several scars on his face, most notably a slice over his right eye. His hair is swept back and a remarkable tint of white

**story to come**
Title: Niena Lossehelin
Post by: Niena on October 15, 2012, 07:46:53 PM
(http://img69.imageshack.us/img69/6761/rosehf.jpg)


Niena Lossehelin

Download it here!
http://www.escapefromundeath.com/forums/attachment.php?attachmentid=370&d=1350276203 (http://www.escapefromundeath.com/forums/attachment.php?attachmentid=370&d=1350276203)

Age: 24 years.
Height: 5' 6"
Weight: 130 lbs.
Skin Tone: A rich honey tone.
Skin Texture: A few nicks here and there, but nothing major...other than that, very smooth.
Eyes: Green-grey, almond-shaped.
Hair: Tush-length and snowy white, usually in a triple ponytail.
Commonly spoken languages: Elvish, Common.
Race: Half-Elf.
Dominant Hand: Right Handed.
Body Build: Slender and lithe, with taut muscles all over.

Jewelery or Decorations:
-Silver crescent moon stud through her left ear, gift from her Mother.

Description: A youthful half-elven maiden of medium height, Niena has shimmering white hair like the snowbound mountains and skin a rich honey brown, the taut muscles of her lithe body twitching visibly beneath as she moves. Her twinkling eyes almond-shaped, they often alternate between green and grey depending on her mood and a playful smile can often be seen playing on her thin lips when she's not being serious. Examining her closer, a silver stud in the shape of a crescent moon can be seen adorning the base of her left ear, and a huge greataxe nearly her own size hanging down her back completes the ensemble.

Personality: This young female loves to have fun in all it's forms, whether by playing with friends, cuddling with close companions, fighting with monsters, lovemaking under the stars, gambling, and anything else that doesn't involve the people she likes getting hurt. She's most often childishly cheerful, and has a big, open heart for those who don't cause illegal or immoral trouble, but gets easily upset when people are mean. Lossehelin often resorts to throwing said folk out or off the nearest door, window, portal, hole, cliff, or anything else nearby she can use to get them far away from her. Racially very tolerant due to her innocent, friendly nature, even against demonfolk and shadowfolk she doesn't generally swing first unless they're causing trouble. Niena has a fairly high tolerance for pain, but a very low one for intolerance and stupidity.

Some History: Born to an elven maiden and human fighter, Niena grew up in her mother's small inn as a maid, serving girl, cook, and eventually guard. During her free time, and quite often when she was supposed to be working, Niena would slip away and play with children from the nearby neighborhoods, or explore the sewers that lay beneath their house, where she sometimes fought vermin, oozes, and goblinoids. As she grew, the promise of beauty from her lovely mother began to manifest, and her father turned her toward being able to defend herself properly. This turned out to be a good idea, because it seemed most males found her strikingly white hair, exotic green eyes, and most especially her very physical, teasing nature to be utterly irresistible. Despite being such a passionate and physical girl, though, she only rarely chose someone for her bed (or herself for theirs if they didn't initially want her; the sheer OUTRAGE of such silliness, goodness!), and even then, only if she was irresistibly attracted to them, or cared for them enough to give a relationship a try. Regardless, in the end, her father succeeded far better than his long-lived bed mate had hoped, because the youngest Lossehelin proved her chaotic nature to be supremely well-suited to a fun-filled life of intermittent combat, her mercurial temper lending enough power and more to her slender frame to support her dad's favored weapon: the Greataxe. But, as Niena's power grew, so did her wanderlust and bloodlust, until she finally set out on her own in search of more excitement and fighting than life was giving her, until a stroll through the forests east of Baldur's Gate led to her kidnapping by the Mist, and the start of the adventure she'd been looking for...
Title: Uthemir
Post by: Uthemir on October 16, 2012, 07:56:23 PM
Uthemir

Gender: Male
Age: 21
Race: Human
Eyes: Green
Height: 5'11"
Origin: Medieval Earth, born circa 1390

Story:

The campfire cracked fiercely. A small encampment with several men around the fire. Smell of roasted boar fills the air.

Uthemir looked at his new sword. It was longer than average sword used by others. He found it few days ago, after battle.
"Why one would want to use such a long sword? You have to use both hands to swing it" said one of the knights sitting on the other side of the fire. "You will be soon decapitated without a shield to protect yourself"
"Don't worry, Slavomir, I can handle it" Uthemir replied, grinning.
"I am sure you can handle it, I saw you and your moves during the battle. But certainly I do not have to remind you who saved your sorry arse when two mounted knights almost run you through?" Slavomir said, quite amused.
Uthemir's lowered head, his face turned red. The rest burst out laughing.
"It's all right, lad" said the third knight, sitting next to. Clearly older than Uthemir, he was over 6' tall, towering over the young one. "You are well known for your recklessness. But on the other hand, your crazy surprise tactics proved to be usefull. Don't feel guilty. Many knights would want to have squire like one I have" The old knight placed his palm on the Uthemir's shoulder.
"We have to rest, fellow knights." Casimir said. He stood up, and went towards his tent "Night is upon us, and tomorrow we have to be fit and prepared."
"What is your plan for tomorow, sir?" someone asked.
Casimir turned back. "To find these Teutonics"

(to be continued)
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Green Monster on November 29, 2012, 10:44:36 PM
Name: Sadie Halloway
Real Name: Sahdiira Acenath Hal'Awiir      (*1)
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Race: Human (mixed Mulan, Turmish, and Chondathan)
Date of Birth: 9th of Highsun, 1351 D.R.
Place of Birth: Waymoot, Cormyr, Faerun, Toril
Father's Name: Hal'Awiir Mesu Rahmadi         (*2)
Father's Real Name: Fenyanamun Aswadi-Sefu'Set  (*3)
Father's Nation of Origin: Mulhorand
Father's Race: Human (Mulan, Turmish)
Father's Occupation: Merchant (retired)
Father's Age: 64 (deceased)
Mother's Name: Briana Rahmadi (maiden name Gelman)
Mother's Nation of Origin: Cormyr
Mother's Race: Human (Chondathan)
Mother's Occupation: Librarian (retired)
Mother's Age: 48 (deceased)


Father's History


Khalfani'Set Nassor Khalid (*4) was a High Priest in one of Mulhorand's smaller temples of Set in the town of Maerlar. His only son, Fenyanamun Aswadi-Sefu'Set was a muscular, attractive young man who's future of taking his father's place seemed assured. His knowledge of Set's teachings and personal magnetism seemed to make him the perfect candidate to follow in his father's footsteps, but what he kept well hidden was that all of his hatred and cruelty was directed at his own father and at no other.

Khalfani'Set made the mistake of giving his son over to his chamber-slave, Halima (*5) upon whom he had forcefully sired his son, believing in his arrogance that any son of his would grow to be just like him no matter what. The early influence and teachings of Fenyanamun's mother, who was a kind, gentle woman broken by her station in life but determined that the child she gave birth to would not be like his father, instilled in Fenyanamun a compassion for the weak and helpless, while the natural talent for murder that he inherited from his father manifested instead as a burning desire to exact vengeance upon his father for his mother's treatment. A desire he would one day sate.

When Fenyanamun was 17, his father announced that there would be a sacrifice on Midwinter night. While the temple of Osiris performed their annual rite to ward tombs against the pillaging of robbers and necromancers, the Set priesthood would be performing a human sacrifice in a rite that would attempt to weaken the wards. Halima would be the sacrifice.

Three weeks before the ritual was to take place, Fenyanamun crept into his father's bedchamber and, using one powerful arm to hold a pillow over his father's face, stabbed Khalfani'Set in the chest over and over until the older man's struggles ceased altogether. Then, taking the staff of office from beside his father's bed (a solid gold sceptre four feet in length shaped like a snake with a jackal's head, with rubies for eyes) he strode out of the room, still covered in blood, and into the main temple. There he declared himself the new High Priest and demanded that his induction ceremony coincide with the midwinter sacrifice. Since murder was not an unheard-of method of promotion among Set's clergy and everyone had assumed the charismatic young man would take his father's place some day anyway, this was quickly agreed to.

When a Mulan priest is inducted into the clergy, he (or she) will have their head shaved and painted with the insignia of the Temple, and their body anointed in oil blessed by the other members of the same temple. Fenyanamun ordered that, just prior to the ceremony, the walls of the main temple should be coated with oil as well to re-consecrate the temple itself with his own ascension to power: symbolizing his unity of purpose with the temple and that the temple and the man are one. He also ordered that a channel full of water, two feet wide and three feet deep, be laid in the floor of the temple to run from just under the sacrificial altar to outside, so that the faithful not privileged enough to be admitted to the ceremony may drink water mixed with the blood of the sacrifice.

On Midwinter's night Fenyanamun's head was shaved, then priests said prayers to Set while painting the blue circles of office on his head and covering his body in oil. The temple walls glimmered with a sinister scarlet radiance as the light from the braziers reflected off of their oiled surfaces. A terrified Halima was lead in and tied to the top of the altar, while her son looked down on her with cold eyes, dagger in one hand and sceptre of office in the other.

Once the attendants had stepped back, Fenyanamun quickly kicked over a brazier, spilling burning coals across the oil-slicked floor to strike the walls, which immediately went up in flames. Then he slashed the ropes that bound his mother to the altar and escaped with her through the channel of water while the temple burned like the very fires of Hell itself.

As the pair raced across the desert on the backs of horses he had prepared for the purpose,  the screams of those burning to death behind them eventually faded; only to be replaced by the sinister cries of jackals. Fortunately, due in part to their head start and in part to fear causing them to run faster, the horses kept their lead and after a terrifyingly fast journey through the cold desert night the sounds of Set's animal minions fell far behind; and then finally vanished altogether.

Stopping to rest both themselves and their horses several dozen miles from where they started, the two sat on a sand dune to watch the sunrise. As they sat in silence, both in shock and tired, suddenly Halima cried out in agony. Fenyanamun killed the desert asp that had bitten his mother, cutting its head off with the sacrificial dagger, but it was too late. Halima died in his arms as the first rays of dawn warmed the sands, killed by another of Set's chosen creatures.

After burying his mother in the sands, Fenyanamun struck the horses on the hindquarters to send them off to lay a false trail, then made for the coast on foot while covering his tracks with a horse blanket. Finally arriving, nearly dead from hunger, thirst, and heat, at the riverside town of Rauthil, Fenyanamun tried to wash the blue circles of office from his head only to find that his skin had been permanently dyed. He had been branded by Set.

Covering his head with a turban improvised by ripping the hem from his robes, he pried one of the rubies from the sceptre and used it to purchase a camel and supplies. From there he made his way to the coastal town of Sultim where he used the other ruby to buy passage on a trading vessel bound for Bezantur in Thay.

Finding Thayan culture to be too much like the one he'd just left, and Thayan trade with Mulhorand too likely to result in his being found, he had a smith melt down the sceptre (in exchange for the extortionate rate of one third of the resulting gold) and made his way west over land.

For two years he travelled, living mostly by hunting, avoiding towns while his hair grew back to cover the marks of the priesthood. Finally he arrived in Suzail where lack of much contact with Mulhorand made him feel safe. Using what was left of his gold, he purchased an interest in a small trading coster that specialized in importing spices and perfumes and exporting steel and timber. Eventually, after a further 20 years of hard work and intelligent management, he bought out his partners and settled down, believing the nightmare to finally be over. But Set has a long memory and infinite patience.

During his stay in Suzail, Fenyanamun called himself "Hal'Awiir Mesu Rahmadi" (*6). While building his business, he met and eventually married a Cormyr woman roughly his own age, Briana Gelnam, who worked as a librarian at Suzail's main library. For 9 years the couple remained in Suzail, happy but childless.

Shortly after "Hal's" 48th birthday, and a couple month's before Briana's, the couple closed "Hal's" shop and retired to Briana's hometown of Waymoot to live in peace and quiet. Shortly after doing so, though, Briana become unexpectedly pregnant. Nine months later, she died giving birth to a baby girl; Sahdiira Acenath Hal'Awiir.


Sadie's History


As a child of mixed parentage in a small village, Sahdiira's early life was not an easy one. Constantly bullied by the other children and without a gentle mother's guidance, she never made friends in spite of starting to call herself "Sadie Halloway" in an effort to "fit in" better. Her having to defend herself, along with genetics from her father's side, did help her to grow into a strong young woman. She also inherited her mothers love of books and learning.

Her father never told her about his past, nor did he speak to her much about her mother. The first subject he thought too frightening for a young girl, the second too painful for him to speak of. Sadie  grew up believing that her father really was simply a retired merchant, and never learned very much at all about her mother. Her childhood wasn't completely without communication with her father, though. He taught her to speak fluent Mulhorandi, gave her some basic instructions about her heritage, the Gods and Goddesses of his homeland, but never spoke the name of "Set" out loud. He always wrote it down the few times he dared broach the subject, and then only to warn her away from anything and everything to do with that foul deity. He also taught her basic wilderness survival and encouraged her to learn other more scholarly subjects; taking her on trips to nearby Arabel to visit the library and mage guild there. Eventually, as Sadie got old enough to look out for herself and he started getting too old to look out for her, she started going without her father. She'd tell him she was going to Arabel with friends, but that was a lie to stop him from worrying. Sadie had no friends.

One day, as she was coming back to Waymoot from a trip to Arabel, she saw a massive column of smoke twining it's way into the sky above the village, like a grey serpent striking at the clouds. She ran the rest of the way home, but it was too late. Her house, the little cottage she'd been born in and lived with her father in her whole life, was burned to the ground. All that remained of her father was a charred husk. Shocked and in grief, Sahdiira could do nothing but stand there crying while the village bucket brigade put out the last of the flames. What neither she nor anyone else could see from the ground was that, when viewed from the air, the ashes formed the image of a jackal's head in profile, with bared fangs.

Sadie was 15 years old.

Left with, quite literally, nothing but the clothes on her back, she returned to Arabel where being a familiar face around the library helped her to get a job helping to catalogue newly arrived books, eventually even graduating to the honoured task of helping to repair damaged tomes. Her inquisitive nature led her to explore the dangerous Netherese ruins below Arabel while living in that city, and when, after four years, she wrote a dissertation on the possible relationship between the ancient Netherese and the Bedine of the Anauroch, she was taken more seriously and offered the chance to study elven ruins in the Hullack Forest and nearby swamps, and given instruction in reading elven script.

Sadie proved adept at field research, and found the work rewarding. It combined her love of nature with her love of learning. Exploring old ruins in the pouring rain (having to bash the occasional skeleton or goblin in the head to get there, of course), copying down ancient runes found on crumbling statuary, reading over notes from a days work while camping under the stars, all this made Sadie feel closer to being "at home" than ever she had before. But still not quite. When she spent too long in the woods, she'd miss the comforts of the city. Going back to the city, she'd start to miss the peace of the wilderness. Sadie was forever restless, forever alone, forever longing for whatever extreme she didn't have. And she still is to this day.

Eventually, Sadie started doing side projects. Accepting commissions from magi and other scholars to locate certain lost tomes and artifacts. She became skilled at lock-picking and disabling snares set by ancient peoples to protect their treasures. By the time she was 22, she'd found the private commissions so lucrative that she was able to quit her job at the Arabel City Library and travel more extensively. She was just returning to Waterdeep with a scroll on the nature of the negative energy plane that a Waterdavian mage had commissioned her to find for him when suddenly a mist rose up around her and a sinister figure emerged from the shadows……….


Whether the dark shadow of Set had anything to do with this, only He can know.


Current Profile

Strong, intelligent, and fairly attractive, Sadie nevertheless has trouble making friends. Her lack of socialization as a child leaves her with little or no understanding of other people. She often says the wrong thing, causes offence when she shouldn't, takes offence when she shouldn't, and generally messes up every inter-personal relationship she attempts, though not because she doesn't actively try to make friends. She goes out of her way to be extra nice to everyone, which in itself causes problems; Her habit of being extra sweet to people and using pet names for them offends some, and causes others to believe there is romantic interest where none exists. Sadie simply gets along better with books and animals than she does with people. When she does manage to make friends, she never makes plans that include them. Instead, she passively waits for them to invite her to outings or simply to spend time with her. The constant rejection she experienced in her childhood has caused her to habitually expect rejection throughout her life, and so she avoids it by not asking people to spend time with her. Instead waiting for them to ask her. The bullying she endured as a child has also made her overly sensitive to criticism and taunts. She tries make to friends, but somehow, eventually, someone gets angry. In the end, Sadie usually winds up spending most of her time alone, waiting for busy people to remember she's there or wandering the woods to hunt (or simply to be there). She has a natural way with animals and finds their simple motives of food, fear, and mating to be comforting in the face of the bafflingly complex behaviours of people.

Sadie's inability to properly empathize with other people is only matched by her keen mind when it comes to intellectual pursuits, and her appreciation of the finer arts. Literature, history, archeology, architecture, and visual arts all fascinate her, and she herself has a natural gift for storytelling and songwriting, though her musical performance could be better.

Sadie is constantly restless. When she's in a city, she longs to be in the wilderness. When she's in the wilderness, she yearns for the city. When she's alone, she wishes for a friend. When she's with others, she often wishes she were alone again (if for no other reason than because she's made someone angry by saying the wrong thing).

Sadie speaks Common and Mulhorandi fluently, each without a trace of the other's accent. She can also read and write Elven, but has some trouble understanding it when it's spoken unless it's spoken very slowly, and her pronunciation when speaking it is not the best.

Sadie has no idea about her father's dark past, but occasionally tiny glimpses of her grandfather's traits can be seen in the dark turn some of her stories take, or the sardonic and cruel twist her comments sometimes have; Especially about women who are more attractive than herself. Even more especially if those women find it easy to behave in a coy and flirtatious way around men. Of course, this unreasoning hate of "girly" women (the sort who bat their eyelashes and have mastered the art of showing cleavage while seeming not to intend to) is pure jealousy. But Sadie neither knows it, nor would admit it if someone were to point it out to her.

NOTES

(*1) Sahdiira Acenath Hal'Awiir (sa-DEER-a  AH-ken-naut  HAL-ah-WEER), roughly translates to "Faithful Little One, Daughter of the One who is Shining"

(*2) Hal'Awiir Mesu Rahmadi (HAL-ah-WEER  MAY-soo  rah-MAH-dee), roughly translates to "One who is shining, son of he who is praised by Ra"

(*3) Fenyanamun Aswadi-Sefu'Set (fen-YAH-nah-moon  ahz-WAH-dee  SAY-fu-SET), roughly translates to "Assassinating Dark Sword of Set" or "Secretly Conquering Dark Sword of Set"

(*4) Khalfani'Set Nassor Khalid (kal-FAH-nee-SET  NAH-sor  kah-LEED), roughly translates to "Set Shall Rule in Victory Forever"

(*5) Halima (hah-LEE-mah), roughly translates to "gentle". Slaves usually did not have surnames like the merchant class, nor the long, poetic names of the nobility and priesthood.

(*6) A name, followed by "son of", "daughter of", "born of", or "first born of", or "third born of", et cetera, followed by the father's first name, was one of the common naming conventions used by the merchant class of Mulhorand, the even more long and poetic names being reserved for the nobility and priesthood. Obviously choosing a name of the merchant class was a way to hide his identity from any assassins sent by the temple, but the exact meaning of the name he chose (see note number 2) was to declare his purity of purpose to Ra, the Sun God and father of all the Mulan Gods, and to implore Ra's protection. Calling one's self or one's child "Blessed by" a God was fairly common and, far from being considered an affront or hubris, was a way that the Mulan people would ask the God in question to make it true. It was also an example of the man's dark humour. His murder of his father was instrumental in his plan to burn the temple down, thus "turning night into day" in honour of Ra. So, with irony in mind, Fenyanamun is calling his father, the priest of the evil Set, "praised by Ra" because killing his father was the first step to lighting up the night with flame.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Elfric on December 15, 2012, 04:33:03 PM


Character name: Ludwig Lafranchi
Class: Rogue
Alignment: TN
Race: Human
Sex: Male
Age: 18
Hair: Long curls, wheat blonde
Color Eyes: Robin blue
Color Skin:  Fair skinned
Distinctive characteristics: The back of his left hand is marked with a rather nasty looking scar caused by the metal feathers of a Falkovian helmet snapping off and biting into the flesh.

Born and raised along side his elder brother Oscar in the city of Neufurchtenburg. Their father was a successful clock maker and farmer, while their mother was a brilliant schoolhouse teacher. The two were mainly home schooled for the majority of their youth, until they came of age and set out to learn a craft. Despite growing up together, the brothers were as different as summer and winter.  Oscar was a tall and muscular man built like an ox and highly charismatic, while Ludwig was short, wiry, and soft spoken. 

These traits ended up defining the boys far greater then one could imagine.  When word was sent from Dementlieu that Ambassadors from Lamordia were assassinated by Falkovian spies and that war was declared, the two left home to do the unthinkable; Joining a small band of mercenaries. Before the news came Oscar was already a member of the Neufurchtenburg militia, while Ludwig was apprenticing to be a clockmaker under their father. Once more their traits defined their roles in life, Oscar became a Sergeant with the Mercenaries that sided with the four towers, while little Ludwig became a messenger.

 It was that task which spared Ludwig's life from a bloody skirmish near the Jewel box Lakes. The company of Mercenaries were guarding a small township along side the common enlisted peasants of Dementlieu when a legion of Falkovians swooped onto the town.  It was rumored that when the townspeople realized the battle was lost a Lamordian came out to surrender to the Falkovians, only to be cut down by them and the town was set to the torch. The fate of his brother has given Ludwig a burning hatred for Falkovian Soldiers, which causes him to be ill rational and hot tempered around them.

When the war was over Ludwig returned to the small town to collect his brothers remains, pickling them in a dark blue barrel for the trip back home. The streets and cafes the boys were constantly seen at mourned for Oscar the week they returned home.  Ludwig became even more secluded and even cut of ties to his family, thus giving up on watchmaking to take up a wagon and ox in order to wander the country as a trader.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: airengale on January 21, 2013, 05:13:27 AM
Name: Sethraan Synne
Height: 6'
Weight: 175 lb
Race: Aasimar, Waterdeep (Toril) Forgotten Realms
Age: 17
Deity:
"Dieties of the world exhibit a time and a season—attributes for a specific cause—which one is for perfection?"

"[Gives considerable thought] I don't know"

"Neither do I, and until I find one, then perfection is my God."
Alignment: LG
Sex: Male
Hair: Off-white
Eye: Golden
Skin: Slightly tanned, white

Distinct characteristic: His ancestral celestial parent is a trumpet archon, whose blood has given Sethraan a powerful ringing voice that reverberates as if many voices follow after it. Him and his sister's current name is the changed name in order to represent that they accept their heritage as an Aasimar. Sethraan is a fraternal twin to his sister, Farina Synne (Rigor Mortis/BalorVale).

Bio: Sethraan Synne was born and raised up to the age of seven, along with his twin sister, in the western croplands of Fearun's Waterdeep. Sethraan has always thought to understand his place, being the first born male and caretaker of his sister. He quickly realized that peace and victory over trials is accomplished through contemplation and inner perfection. As his sister would venture out and explore the beauties of the world, he would contemplate inwards and understand his and his sister's own beauty and place in the world.

His fundamental difference with approaching life in their similar circumstances never separated the bond between the two; he understood he had a duty to care for her, or else she would flit away into a world she could never truly understand. The family of the two was dysfunctional, and treated the two as an outcast; as he grew to understand this hatred and their outcast nature he became grounded, but as his sister experienced these trials she became a dreamer.

By the young age of 12, the two raised themselves by living off the woodlands, however, Sethraan knew this wasn't enough, and thus worked in the city much to his sister's opposition. This caused Setheraan to be more comely and patient with strangers, while his sister became more distant. No one knows why the strange children have disappeared at around the age of 16 from their forest dwelling; the receding mist from their home was foreboding nonetheless.

//Recompense of the Righteous: Sethraan Synne (http://www.nwnravenloft.com/forum/index.php?topic=31559)
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: ManticoreRO on January 24, 2013, 03:17:54 AM
(http://i305.photobucket.com/albums/nn220/ManticoreRO/FemKnight_zps74e3ae41.png)

Name: Ania Danna
Race: High Elf
Age: 130
Class: Paladin
Deity: Torm
Provenience: "A small temple from a small village"

Description: A 4 feet tall elf, she is always seen in full plate and carrying a maul far larger than herself.

Background: Raised by two generations of humans, she barely had connections with her kind. Considering elves a mistery, she is fascinated by them, and will always approach them. She is very approachable and will try to help anyone that needs it.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Gutshank on April 07, 2013, 06:32:59 PM
Backstories/Family I have been working on. Work in progress. Will be constantly expanding/Changing.


(http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/Gutshank/ROCKON.jpg)

Serghei Blaga

Description:

Tanned Barovian Male
Height: 6'1
Weight: Heavyset
Brown Eyes & Hair
Age: Late 30's? Tough to determine. Life has not been easy on Serghei
Born & Raised in Vallaki Slums

This Barovian man is easily identifiable by the ever present scowl on his face. It's clear he has lived a life of hardship and manual labor. His hands are well leathered and scars are littered about his body from rough work at the docks. He appears to be in his mid thirties.
Like most at the docks, He always seems to smell of fish and ale. But no matter how rough it gets on the docks Serghei is eager to tell people life at home with the old lady and kids is rougher.

Bit of Backstory:

Father: Andrei Blaga (Deceased) Life-long Dockworker
Mother: Stela Blaga (Deceased) Former garda medic

Serghei was born, raised, and currently lives in the slums of Vallaki. He has made a name for himself among the docks. He began working there at a very young age to assist his father. Like his father, Serghei puts a lot of value in a hard days work. His willingness to do whatever needs done without complaint earned him the respect of his bosses and his peers. Now more often than not Serghei spends his time patching up green dock workers who get in to accidents; A skill he learned from his mother.  

It's well known in the docks that Serghei is a follower of the morninglord. Serghei makes no attempts to hide the necklace of the morninglord that he wears. But it's not  known how devout Serghei is. Serghei is not the 'Preachy" type as his co-workers put it. But he's always the first in line to help out another family in the slums. Or the first to tell a joke to improve moral on the docks. Serghei also pays monthly tithes to the church in the slums like clockwork. He chooses to keep the donations discreet so he doesn't anger his co-workers. Serghei now only works part time at the docks and he is seen near the slums church more and more.


-----------------------------

(http://www.thepeoplescube.com/images/SocialRealism_Kommissarka_P.jpg)


Mariana Blaga (Wife):

Height: 5'5
Weight: Heavyset
Brown hair & blue eyes
Age: Early 30's

Mariana use to be a lithe woman with soft blue eyes. After enduring two births she is now a heavy-set woman with an almost mean looking face. Serghei sometimes jokes the kids turned her eyes as dark as charcoal. Mariana is the clear disciplinarian of the blaga household. Marianas shouts are unnerving but her silent glares are down-right vicious.

She stays at home and keeps their two children (Grigore Blaga, age 14. Violeta Blaga, Age 6) and husband in line. The two do deeply love one another but neither ever seem to show it. The only thing that can usually be heard from the Blaga household is Marianas scolding of the children or yelling at Serghei for some perceived wrong. Mariana is in a constant struggle to limit Serghei's contributions to the church. Mariana loves serghei for his kindness but would always rather see more money go to her and the kids.
---------



(http://us.123rf.com/400wm/400/400/jorgefelix/jorgefelix0603/jorgefelix060300113/353006-ox-head.jpg)

Dorbu:

Weight: Way too fat for an Ox
Age: For an Ox; Very old.

They say pets take the personality of their owners. Dorbu is no exception. Serghei bought this ox for himself many years ago at a discount. Dorbu was going to be slaughtered due to his age and his inability to listen. The stubborn ox can only seemed to be coaxed by Serghei. Like Serghei, Dorbu has a fondness for Ale.

Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Heretic on April 07, 2013, 07:08:37 PM
You totally Chomski'ed that bio, Gutshank.

(http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lnj2s28sf21qm00hqo1_500.gif)
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Gutshank on April 07, 2013, 07:22:28 PM
 :shhh:

It has a Chomski vibe, But better. I took all the noob out of it.

(http://awesomegifs.com/wp-content/uploads/The-Dude-Deal-With-It.gif)
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: swbf2lord on May 17, 2013, 10:17:55 PM
Anuriel Sendleir

Appearance:

Race: Wood Elf
Hair: Dark Brown (natural)
Eyes: Hazel
Height: 5'7"
Age: 127
Birthplace: Forest of Dunwood, Faerun

Backstory:
Anuriel is a fairly rural elf, with little to no knowledge of the world outside his homeland near the Dale. By elven standards, he is still fairly young and had only just completed his apprenticeship under the local elven rangers before setting out to see the outside world. His mother's name was Maaeya, his father Yenfire. His parents were simple, for the most part, his mother was druid who practiced healing magic and his father was a guardsman. Anuriel surprised many in his community when he chose to become a ranger, rather than following the path of either parent. He studied for many years in the art of being unseen, and stalking his prey quietly.

Until he was 80 years of age, the most challenge he had was hunting the village's food supply. Not long after his eightieth birthday, a band of goblins entered the forest and began to set up a small habitation. The head of the village's rangers had been tracking the goblins from a few hours after the first had set foot in Dunwood. When this was reported, several leaders from various villages in Dunwood sent rangers to intercept and turn back the goblins before serious harm was done; Anuriel was one of these rangers. Still only an apprentice, he was instrumental (read: lucky) in turning back the goblin trespassers. While watching the goblin encampment, Anuriel noticed a shaman who appeared to be in charge was near where he was hiding, so he silently crept into the camp and spirited the goblin back to where several ranger leaders were making preparations for the attack. The information learned from this shaman was critical, and the goblins soon noticed the shaman's absence and lost morale. After the devastating attack by the rangers, the remaining goblins fled, and no permanent injury was done to the forest. Anuriel was the elf of the hour.

Time passed quickly and without major events until Anuriel had become a full ranger, and wished to see more of Faerun before settling down to the village life. The leaders of the village were understanding, despite the oath he had sworn to defend the village until death, and they allowed him to go see the far-off places of the world. He spent a few days traveling the Great Dale, wandering the forests of Lethyr, before stumbling into the mist...

Personality:
Anuriel has very little social ability, due in part to the solitary life as a ranger, and therefore may often be seen as offensive. Despite this, he is a loyal friend, and though he often may be seen as a coward, he will never leave a friend for long. He may run from a battle, but not to leave and save himself, but if he determines that the battle cannot be won alone, he will return with help. He is dependable. He is also slow to trust, especially with non-elves, and even after knowing someone for many months, may still not trust them, despite seemingly acting as a close friend. His time in Barovia is slowing altering his perception of the other races. He has a long centered distrust of humans based not from experience but tales he had been told by others from his village. He has a deep appreciation for achery, and considers every other form of fighting to be inferior. He may refer to swordfighters as "shields" at times, reflecting his belief that swordmen are only good for holding the enemy back from a skilled archer or mage. Speaking of mages, he deeply distrusts arcane magic, and although at times he may allow an arcane user to travel with him, he will often be derogatory or insulting towards the mage. If engaged in a philosophic discussion, he will often argue that natural ways are best, and races should live alongside nature, not in "stone cities". He views undead as an abomination, and any ghost as a mage's use of magic to torment the dead. He is fairly unintelligent, and though he may seem philosophic at times, he knows very little, and has a very narrow worldview. In his mind elves are the superior race and all races are secretly jealous of elven beauty (in his mind), elven longevity, and elven ways. He sees any half-elf as an inferior half-breed and will often refer to them as "halflings" (not talking about the race of halfings, meaning half-elves). Secretly, he feels that the Barovians have become a threat to the elven folk of the land, and must be dealt with in some way. The mists, and his lack of worldly experience, have twisted his moral compass, and what he considers right may not actually be so. He has a deep-rooted fear of the drow, based again not on experience, but still feels that the inferior humans should not kill the drow, but allow their betters (in his mind, elves) to deal with the problem.

Short summary:

A very arrogant, pompous, narrow-minded elf. Nothing unusual :P
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: NecroDude on September 30, 2013, 04:48:55 AM
Character Name: Amadeus Obediu
Race: Human
Homeworld: Torril
From: Skull Gorge: The Necropolis, City Of The Archmage
Age: 34 (Appears To Be 24 for rp reasons!)
Height: 6'2
Hair Color: Natural: Crimson Blood Red
Eye Color: Grey-Blue
Sex: Male
Build: Medium
Skin Color: Normal: Tannish.   Sickened: Deathly Pale
Voice: Medium, deepish, but not too deep.
Languages:
-Elven
-Common
-Abyssal
-New: Balok

Profession(s): Alchemist, Herbalist, Arcanist (Necromancer), Artist, Doctor (Specialized In Anatomical Structures, And Necrosurgial Augmentation)

About:

Amadeus is a highly intelligent, if not so wise man, handsome with striking and sharp features, he appears to be younger than he actually is, however with his dehabilitating, and wretched curse, he has been stricken ill, which has given him a haunted appearance, and to most his handsome features ruined by the sickened appearance. Having trained as an arcanist since the age of 12, he had spent four years learning in skull gorge after the tragic loss of his family to plague and the mysterious dissapearance of his father. At the age of 16, he was entrusted by his rival who had to leave skull gorge: her daughter. Without explanation or reason, no words even she left the child with young amadeus.. 163 or Cassie (in the future to become Hope) for 18 years he would raise this child, performing necromantic augmentations, altering the body as she grew, teaching her much of what she knew, and spreading the velsharoonite faith to her... within these 18 years however.. important things had occured.. at age 24, 8 years later he encountered his father.. who had secretly been one of the gorges most powerful necromancers.. the reunion had been without happiness, and as "welcoming" he subjected his son to the 666 tortures of Agzedeloch, a abyssal creature of immense power.. this in the fathers eyes would strengthen him, and if he survived open his eyes to the cruelty and darkness required to accomplish the dark feats he would.. Amadeus did survive, he came from the torture hardened and filled with a deep hatred for his father. He had learned abyssal, and had gained apt knowledge in the field of torture and suffering.. he had also stricken a pact.. the demon had given him a immense supply of magical knowledge to enhance his power.. but in return cursed him with a illness that would increase in power as Amadeus did, and one day would consume him if he did not redeem his soul.. or enter the darkest of paths: Undeath. For 10 years the sickness did little to him as he progressed slowly, still weak in the arts of arcane.. Cassie continued to grow and he worked on her as time past.. but always in his mind gnawed the ever growing desire for: Vengeance... Upon the day of his 34th birthday.. oddly in appearance he had not aged a day past the one he struck the deal, though he felt the weakness of age grow in him... he snuck into his fathers qaurters and slit his throat in his sleep.. he laughed as his fathers life-blood spilled to the ground, doused his clothing.. his father lurched up to hold disbelievingly to Amadeus.. his blood spilling on Amadeus's robes, Amadeus grinned cruelly as he watched his father fall to the ground dead. He laughed for a long while.. and he laughed without realizing that he was no longer in skull gorge.. mists had risen around him and now he was in a grey murky world.. where was he? He didn't know how long he walked.. But he remembered falling.. and when he awoke, he was facefirst in the dirt, his robes stained with his fathers blood, without his spellbook, without anything... And there his story began.. His story within the mist had taken it's first step forward.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Juice on November 28, 2013, 12:05:15 AM
(http://i.imgur.com/7pwnosj.png)

Character name: Solomon Burke
Race: Human
Sex: Male
Age: 23
Height: 6'4
Weight: 90kg
Colour Hair: Pale White with Black Strands.
Colour Eyes: Unblinking Pale Blue, Pupils are Somewhat Grey
Colour Skin: Pale

Distinctive characteristics:
White hair, Tattoos over his arms of swords shields and battles with Nidalan words hidden in the knot work. He hardly ever blinks and this causes people who talk with him to feel uneasy.
{View Scar History below.}

Appearance:
Very handsome young man, clean trimmed goatee, Physically strong, Very soft sounding voice.

Summary:
- Born in Nidala
- Ran away from Nidala and found a living here in Barovia.
- Recently had his mind wiped by the Lich "The Devoured",
- Has been training as a knight since he was 14, His faith comes before his knightly duties.

Personality, issues & mannerisms:
- Very honest and follows his code to the letter.
- Has a hard time talking with women on a personal level.
- Believes he is damned because his will of self preservation keeps him from giving everything he has to save everyone.
- Fears death because he would no longer be able to do his duty.

Goals & dreams:
- To become a Grand Master Knight.
- To redeem or punish the evils in this world.
- To make his service and his time alive matter, Hopes that what he does will not be for nothing.

Fears:
Slight fear of Oxen wandering around unattended since his dealings in the Gundarakite attacks on Vallaki.
Very strong fear of Dragons. Will take cover and be Immobilised for a short while before he gets his head in the game. Being Nidalan, ever since he could speak he has been told the horrible tales of the Dragon Banemaw.

Languages:
Common
Nidalan

Brief History:
Born in the Domain of Nidala, a land of darkness and terror, he grew up like many of his kin, working to keep his family fed and clothed from a young age, his life was like many others, a depressing system of paranoia and suspicion. The differance between he and the rest of his kin was like his friend Valen, in their history they had great anscestors, Knights of Belenus who'd fought to keep their people safe. Though now, the inquistion of Belenus and the spys of Elena were everywhere oppressing the people, they came to realise... this was not Belenus' work. After defying the inquistion they set off into the night, avoiding the forests of Avonleigh and it's encroaching hand, and arrived in Barovia.

Bio Here: http://www.nwnravenloft.com/forum/index.php?topic=33015

Scar History:
Rib bone in his hair - Wereboar.
Scar along his neck - The Obidient, Undead Devoured Follower.
Black Circle on his bicep -  The Devoured, Lich.
Left hand replaced by steel gauntlet - Serafim Ianescu, Vampire.
His Right Ring finger is missing - Adrian Von Viklov, Evil Mage.
Black Bite Mark on his right cheek bone - Sabel Ulciscor, Vampire.
Black Line across his face at eye level - Zalaph, Shadow Dragon.

Powerful Enemies He has Destroyed/Aided in the destruction of:
The Devoured - Lich

Powerful Enemies He has stopped via Redemption:
Sevik Ghaax
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Theorem Of Neutrality on December 03, 2013, 02:10:24 PM
Zivon de'Scusa
Race: Human (Borcan)
Sex: Male
Height: 6' 4" (195 centimeters)
Weight: 195 lbs (88 kilos)
Skin: Olive
Hair: ?
Eyes: Green
Age: 32
Religion: Home Faith of Ezra

Appearance: Zivon is tall and of strong build, with a marching gait. He has a quiet, brooding demeanor. He is almost always in armor with a hood and a long, warm cloak, both of treated hemp material, trimmed with Ezra's green. His preference in armor is towards hauberks of scale or chain, usually unadorned. He always has a silver brooch bearing Ezra's symbol on his cloak.

Personality: Zivon is a quiet man, always seeming carefully controlled in his mannerisms and speech. Much of his true feelings and thoughts are carefully hidden under a neutral, disciplined demeanor. Rare moments of vulnerability show him for a dedicated, gentle and somewhat sad man, craving redemption and seeking the acceptance of those around him. He also has a dry, caustic wit that exposes an ultimately cynical worldview.

Special features: When removing his hood, one thing becomes immediately clear. Zivon has a beautiful crafted iron mask affixed to his face with bone screws down either side of his head. The mask itself has an emotionless expression with beautiful golden inlays. He only exposes this feature when forced, either by circumstance or command.

Short History: A former Borcan Condottiero, Zivon is a recent transplant to Barovia from his temperate homeland to the west. Zivon was forced to abandon his post as a condottiero by a crisis of conscience - he could no longer bear the suffering he caused under Ivan Dilisnya. Figuring that there wasn't a better place to get lost than backwater Barovia, he crossed the border and made for the wilds as soon as he could.

Goals: His main concern is with guiding recent victims of the Mists - teaching them how to survive in Barovia's harsh lands.

tl;dr: A maimed codottiero with an iron mask affixed to his face that craves redemption and acceptance.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Lady Sylvanas on December 10, 2013, 10:18:11 AM
(http://i777.photobucket.com/albums/yy59/Winters_Muse/Portraits/Arianna_zps050f2f32.png)
Arianna

Race: Human
Gender: Female
Height: 5'10
Weight: 180lbs
Skin: Pale Cream
Hair: Raven Black
Eyes: Ice Blue
Age: 19
Religion: None

Appearance: Arianna is often donned in warm furs and leggings, though sometimes indulges in a warm dress when the weather is fair. Across her back she carries her guitar and an unstrung shortbow, on her belt a rapier that's rarely drawn. She always wears her hair back in a braid, with small beads intertwined within, though the smaller strands about her face always find a means to break free. When she is hired for performances, she often dons a light smokey eyeshadow about her eyes, and light blue henna dotting beneath to appear as ice crystals. Her skin is a creamy hue, though pale for lack of sunlight making her ice blue eyes appear more piercing in their haunting stare. She rarely smiles save when she is playing, singing or painting.

Personality: She is soft-spoken, even when she sings her voice is soft. She is well-mannered, addressing others as m'lord or m'lady, rarely shifting to an informal first name basis. She is timid, wary around those she does not know,  yet remains respectful.

Short History: Arianna was born in a small village just between Icewind Dale and the Spine of the World known as The Wandering Village. Her village consisting mostly of hunters and gatherers there was little room for celebrations where fire was prohibited by the Icemaidens priestesses. They imported their dried meats and vegetables in exchange for exports of furs and ivory with the dwarves of Mithral Hall. Her mother was not born to this village, but arrived there at a young age of seventeen. Her destination was Bryn Shander, the Capitol of Icewind Dale, however she never completed her journey as she had fallen in love with a ranger of the village. There they married, and there they bore two children. The first being Arianna, the second a son by the name of Bastien five years later. Arianna was ten when she first encountered the Frostmaidens faithful as they came to claim tribute to their Ice Queen. Her mother refused to be bullied by them and in response they took her as sacrifice. Her father begged for them to reconsider, explaining his wifes behavior as a misunderstanding as a foreigner to the lands, but they would not hear his words and dragged her back to their temple. Their mother was never heard from again. For five years Arianna looked after her brother, and kept her head down when the priestesses would come for tribute. On her sixteenth birthday she was permitted to travel with her father to Bryn Shander for trade, together the family moved through the snowstorms until they finally arrived. It was there she met Evan, and where a smile was uncommon from the young girl, he was granted such a sight. They were quickly bonded in her time there, and after a months stay, he asked her father for her hand in marriage. He reluctantly agreed, and so she stayed behind with Evan when her father and brother returned to the village. Over the year, she was introduced to a group of friends who were working against the followers of Auril, and it was not long before she joined in the rebellion wanting revenge for her mothers death. On her nineteenth birthday, her troupe and beloved Evan packed up a wagon and started their journey for her village home, it was there they would be wed where her father and brother could attend. Little did she know the mists would take advantage of the heavy blizzard and steal her away from all she knew and loved.

Goals: Her goal is to find some way to return to her beloved Evan, but in the meantime she has decided to try and survive where she has been placed and find a means of employ as a musician or painter or both.

Fears: She fears blizzards and what might lie within them. While she was standing against Aurils followers, she still fears the wrath of the Ice Queen herself.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: WildReilly on March 24, 2014, 12:35:31 AM
(http://ommorphia.files.wordpress.com/2012/07/black-knight.jpg)

Leon "Wolf" Darkheart[/size]

Class: Fighter
Age: 30
Height: 6'1
Weight: 210 Lbs
Eyes: Dark green (left is paler)
Hair: Blonde

Appearance/short history Leon is seen either walking around in his steel armor with a sword on his back and a bear teeth neckless around his neck it does not shine but his armor looks dull and well used he also will be seen in his cloth shirt and leather pants that have spikes and other assorted things all over. when his hood is down he has long blonde hair that reaches past his shoulder and he is always smiling you notices some scars on his arms and you notice one on the left side of his face the starts at the left side of his forehead and finishes at his chin which has cause his left eye to go pale (can still see properly) without a shirt on his chest and back are covered in scars of all sizes he was tortured by bandits for a week and this has caused it. He stands at 6'1 with pride and is always friendly towards people unless they nasty toward him and others.


Goals: he doesn't have any goals in life apart from living his life as he sees fit.

fears: Torture and a slow painful death
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: greeneggs on April 10, 2014, 09:37:57 PM


Stolojan/Capraru Family History for NCW

((Moved to Biography Thread))
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: bloodtrooper on April 29, 2014, 05:55:10 PM

Name: Aisla Cathcart
Sex: Female
Age: 24
Born: Barovia
Height: 5'9
Build: Toned Light
SkinTone: Pale
Hair: Short and Ginger
Eyes: Brown
Markings: No

Background Information (simple/research gathered)

Parents = Mother was a outlander who died five years after Aisla was born, Father was a guarda but went missing after Aisla's birth.

Aisla Cathcart had been allowed to join the orphanage (Old Svalich Road) At the age of 5 after the death of her mother, Her father was declared missing 5years before her death.
At the age of 15 she was working as a bar maid at the Blood of the Vine Inn, After a 1 year working there she was sacked for conflict between herself and the owner at the time.
Year later she was working in the fishing lodge as a maid/cook. 
Near the age of 19 Aisla had left the fishing lodge to join a small traveling merchant group who had mainly told fake or cheap jewellery.
Her merchant days did not last long after the leader was arrested by the guarda and then she and the other members went the different ways, Aisla now has no current job tittle but has been seen wondering around with small groups and selling many pieces of gear to local merchants.

Orphanage Tutor/Minder Reports (Simple)

Personality - Aisla seems like a smart and motivated girl as she seems to be trying to learn the books and other skills, She does seem pleasant but seems more distant from the other children. She seems to get easily upset when other children ask her about how she ended up in the orphanage with them, She also doesn't seem to be willing to join in the singing and dancing that the group will hold now and then.

Future Goals - She seems content she will meet royalty one day and somehow join them living in rich castles, In terms of jobs she seems to want to work in a diamond store although her reason was a concern after stating she would want to steal them all and run away. Other roles she has picked in the past was..,  Archaeology, Gaurda, Architects, Politics, Clothier.

Incidents - Aisla has had a few scraps with a few of the boys during her time here but nothing major sticks out during her years here.

 
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Onasaki on April 30, 2014, 02:22:00 PM
Name: Rilan Indoran
Gender: Male
Age: 25 and some change.
Race: Half-Drow
Born: Baldur's Gate, Faerun, Toril
Height: 5'6
Build: Athletically Lean
Skin: Ash-born Grey
Hair: Long Black
Eyes: Reddish.
Markings: "n" shaped tattoo going down his right eye.

Background:
Rilan is a simple man, orphaned at a young age and grew up in the streets of Baldur's Gate, running with a small sect of the thieve's guild. His brethern were all murdered, and he was left for dead when he was 12. Then found by a cult of Cyric, who allowed him to stay until he fell in love with the High Priestess. Then he was exiled. He traveled for a few years, selling himself out as a rogue for hire. Eventually joined up with a group known as the Icewhite Raiders, on a search for a magical artifact that grants wishes, on a two-year contract. It took two and a half years, and the entire party, save him, and one other were wiped out, and he was left with severe mental trauma that eventually became a low form of Schizophrenia, that gradually progressed to the point in which he considers his blades his children. After the failure of a journey, he tried to settle down, and get himself a wife. That too failed, the wife refused to humor his madness, and scorned him. To which, he responded in killing her for 'abusing' the children. (When really all she did was try to sell them).

He eventually found himself mixed up in some other things. That will remain quiet for now.

Goals: Who knows? He likes to travel, see new things, so long as he has his children. He needs very little.

Personality: Eccentric. Cordial. And Very friendly. Just don't betray him, or cross him.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: IDreamofDaleks on April 30, 2014, 08:58:53 PM
-
Title: Aviana Sterling
Post by: Faeble on May 01, 2014, 12:30:09 PM
Work in progress! More to come.

(http://i1210.photobucket.com/albums/cc409/TwinVirtue/cd4fb092-4310-447d-8c33-aae7c57ead6d.jpg) (http://s1210.photobucket.com/user/TwinVirtue/media/cd4fb092-4310-447d-8c33-aae7c57ead6d.jpg.html)

Name: Aviana Sterling
Age: 27
Race: Human
Height: 5'6"
Build: Athletic
Hair: Rich chestnut
Eyes: Mixed-Matched. Her left eye is a pale green while the other is a steely grey.

Physical Description:

 From afar, Aviana is a woman of fairly average size and build, though her armor often makes it difficult to see her curves. She dresses for practicality although from time to time she may be caught eyeballing an elegant gown as if wondering what she would look like in such attire. A longsword is strapped to her hip and a large shield is slung over her back. She moves with the calm and collected gate of a soldier or at the very least someone who has had military training. Her armor is a mixture of blues and blacks with a royal blue cloak wrapped around her shoulders. The garb looks well worn, almost as if a second skin and even though it shows it's age, it is quite clear that the woman takes care of her gear meticulously.

Once a person catches a good look at her face, however, it becomes clear that the woman is rather striking. Her features are alluringly beautiful though she seems utterly unaware of this. Rich, chestnut colored hair is pulled back in a pony tail with a few loose curls (that always seem to be in the way) framing her face.  With large, almond shaped eyes she watches those around her with concern and genuine kindness. Should one pay close enough attention, the would notice that her eyes are, in fact, two different colors: the left being a pale green and the right a silvery grey.

Across her nose and cheeks is a light smattering of freckles that accentuate her high cheekbones. She never seems to wear jewelry for ascetic purposes, save for a bracelet around her left hand that looks to be made out of two intertwining pieces of metal.  

When she is around people, a bright smile is almost always present on her features. However, should someone catch her by surprise, her expressions are solemn and grim as her mind wanders.



Background:

Aviana and her twin brother, Aren, were born to a world on the brink of war and with unending hardships. Few families were able to provide for themselves and those that were able to live comfortably spent their time bickering and drinking at the Grey Emperor's court in the Black Spire City of Sarlen.

Her parents had wept the day they learned that they were to be having twins for they would never be able to feed two additional mouths, not when they already have six other children to tend to. But what they had originally thought a curse soon became a blessing. Before the brother and sister were even six months old, an old priest of the Twins knocked at the desperate family's door. He offered their parents an egregious amount of coin for the pair, along with a small herd of cattle to make up for their troubles. Aviana and Aren's parents had all but thrown their infant children at the priest's feet.

And so, the siblings were taken to their new life at the Twin's Circle the largest monastery of Lilliana and Vahkar, the Twin Gods.

It was there where their lives truly began. 

Title: Leonar Arndon
Post by: Kebab Removal Unit on May 05, 2014, 05:12:24 PM
(http://i271.photobucket.com/albums/jj153/CloudGnome/Leonar_zpsc71cb7b5.jpg)



Name: Leonar Arndon
Age: 21
Year of birth: 1348 DR
Race: Human
Height: 6'1''
Weight: 178 lbs
Build: Athletic
Eye color: Light gray
Hair color: Light blond
Alignment:Lawful Neutral
Class: Cleric
Deity:Formerly Helm, currently Ezra
Location of birth: Neverwinter area
Land of origin: Faerun, Sword Coast

Appearance:

Leonar is usually seen wearing a heavy plated armor of dark green colour, adorned with linings and segments of silver material. He wears a long green cape with a thin white trim, which signifies his affiliation with the Church of Ezra. He wears black leather trousers with plate thigh guards on outward sides, belted with a leather sash.

He appears approximately around his late twenties, possibly early thirties. His face would be best described as rugged, bearing a few minor lash scars, with a strong jawline and with a slightly prominent chin. Almond shaped, Leonar's eyes are of light gray shade, having a certain indefinable sparkle to them, while his gaze could be described as alluring, yet stern and harsh. His lengthy light blond hair is in a long ponytail, kept together by a ribbon. He speaks in calm and controlled, yet arrogant manner, although even when speaking normally, he's not deliberately trying to be overbearing.

Biography/Background:

Orphaned since his birth on one of the cold nights of Alturiak, year 1348 DR, Leonar Arndon was left and abandoned as a mere babe on the footsteps of Helms Hold, a magnificent temple/stronghold located south of Neverwinter, dedicated to none other than The Watcher himself. Finding salvation in the pity of a few Helmite Novices who had discovered him and brought to Clergy representatives, the decision was brought swiftly - the child will be trained to be one of The Watcher's faithful servants and guardians.

As the years have passed by, Leonar was taught in the arts of martial combat, systematic instructions of discipline, obedience, vigilance and fairness. The child would grow to develop a rather strong, stern and obedient, yet somewhat unapproachable persona, usually shunning contact with even his faithful brethren. Two universal forces, Fate and Lord Helm were governing, guiding and influencing the course of his life and he was more than aware of the fact,and as such, purpose and meaning of his existence revealed to himself since early stages of his life.

Due to excelling in primary attributes of Helmite Faith and dogma, Leonar was rather quick to rise in ranks over course of numerous years, from the title of Novice to join the ranks of Alert at the age of eighteen. He was designed, born and shaped to become and rise as a Protector, a Guardian of all those who could not provide such merit to themselves. During Ceremony of Honor to Helm, on Shieldmeet year 1369 DR, a great honor was bestowed upon young Arndon, for he was ordained as one of Helm's Watchers, his duty now bearing even more responsibility and burden. For so many a year, he would stay true to Helm as the Helm stayed true to himself, until the very worst thing imaginable occurred.

During one of the warm, fiery days of Summertide, the wretched Mists would snatch him in between a short trip from Helms Hold towards the city of Neverwinter. His very worst fear and nightmare, made crude reality for he stood alone and without The Vigilant One, abandoned and powerless in a new completely unknown and deadly world. Days and weeks have passed by, most in prayer to the Watcher with no answer whatsoever,as Leonar still stood in great delusion that the Fate or some even greater evil force is playing tricks upon his mind, conjuring but a world of illusion to sway and test the endurance of his faith and devotion. As the time passed on, he would for once realize how powerless he stood against reckless forces of evil and chaos that were the Legions of Night. With no deity at his side, without an ounce of power to uphold and continue his sworn duty, he now knew for the second time what it feels to be utterly and completely abandoned, albeit far more conscious and aware of the cruel fact now.

As the time marched on in the Lands of the Mist, Ezra's Anchorites and their designated duties, beliefs and powers, or rather Ezrite faith in general was quick to catch his eye and interest. Perhaps for once in his life, an idea, an option to make a choice has been laid down before himself. Will he renounce Helm for the sake of upholding the purpose granted to him by the Fate? Will he become an Oathbreaker and Renouncer, the very idea of it which he abhorred his entire life, for the sake of rising as a Protector once more? For better or worse, the choice was made. A void which was left in his heart, mind and soul, the feeling of being powerless and without purpose... All that had to be corrected in one way or another.

Being of keen and receptive mind, while under the tutelage of numerous Anchorites of the Refuge of Fifth Light congregation, Leonar Arndon became one of Ezra's faithful, and shortly afterwards  - an Acolyte, Anchorite in training. For once in the weeks, a void which filled himself would slowly begin to fade. He was once again, able to manifest powers of divine magic, this time granted by Ezra and albeit in far lesser magnitude to the ones possessed before, he has come to understanding with the path he has chosen, or rather - the path he had started to walk upon. In the First sect of Ezra - Home Faith, he would find numerous similarities with his former Helmite Faith, which altogether made the crisis easier to overcome. He might have utterly lost his connection with The Great Guard, but the one inside of him, one which defined his very purpose and life has never left his heart.

As before, he would continue to excel at his designated duty, although at the great expense of his attitude towards other aspects of life and people in general. Life held neither pleasantry nor even time to think of such. There was only duty, time for it's fulfillment, and an urge and will to strive towards it - a manner of living which Leonar was quite well, already used to. As the weeks have passed, he was once again, rather quick to grow in divine powers bestowed upon him, and after completing his Acolyte training, and even being tempted and tortured by the Mists at occasion, he would finally become worthy of Her Shield, rising to become one of Ezra's Anchorites.

Months flew by, and Warden Arndon would finally endure upon his very skin, the saying he would frequently pass out to others: "Such is the nature of these lands, you either bend or break". His stay of mediocre period in Core would make him bitter, cynical, disrespectful and prideful. He would once again, know and reach the stages where his fears become reality, for he has adapted the characteristics of very monsters he sought to put down. His weariness grew in proportion with his disappointment, be it the one he felt towards his faithful brethren, or humanity in general. For once he had asked himself: "Are we worthy of any protection at all?" "Are we in reality the same monsters we seek to decimate?". He witnessed betrayal, numerous injustices, schemes and falsehoods unveiling before his very eyes, and the fact that many were designed and brought by his own kin and brethren, did not make the fact easier to cope with.

Such questions did not matter. His duty and purpose was clear as daylight and he would stake his life at each given opportunity to uphold and fulfill such obligation. As always, time marched on, and Warden Leonar Arndon would come to know the other sides and aspects of life which he had so neglected in the past. He would come to learn the true meaning of unconditional love, and with it, to actually care for the well being of those he sought to guide, heal and first and foremost - protect.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Xarnata on May 06, 2014, 10:46:12 PM
(http://i789.photobucket.com/albums/yy179/shade_tundra_valla/My-fave-bishies-again-anime-guys-7720300-662-936-1.jpg)

Name: Nerein Kazan
Age: 18
Race: Human
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 145 lbs
Build: Mildly Athletic
Eye color: Blue/Green at day, Red at night
Hair color: Crimson red
Alignment: Chaotic (Prone to hormonal changes) [Classified as Evil for sins on his soul]
Class: Wizard
Deity: None
Location of birth: Eltabbard
Land of origin: Faerun, Thay

(Will fill out when I find his spreadsheet)
Title: Leif Hallvardrson
Post by: Tsarenir on May 08, 2014, 02:56:28 AM
Name: Leif Hallvardrson
Age: 27
Race: Human
Height: 6'0"
Build: Semi-Fit
Weight: 175 lbs
Hair color: Light Blonde
Eye color: Yellowish white, similar to his hair
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Class: Cleric/Fighter
Deity: Thor

Leif is decently strong, but not greatly toned. He wears armor that both suitably protects him and is pleasing to his eye. Most often, a greatsword can be seen slidden into a long metal scabbard strapped to his left side, just above the hip. If he's around one or more people he's unfamiliar with, rain or snow falls, or he is traveling alone, he will have a dark brown hood pulled over his head. If instead his face is uncovered, it will rarely show more than a tired, neutral expression, other than the occasional smirk following a quiet chuckle.

He will not often approach someone standing in a group, as he holds a dislike for impersonal conversation. He would either be found at the front of the front line, or dragging behind in a sizeable party, and if he did speak aloud, it would be short and to the point. If however approached one on one, he speaks freely, and to a friend, comfortably, perhaps even becoming long-winded on certain topics.

He is protective of those weaker than him, or those in trouble, and extremely so with his friends.

Background

Leif hails from a fair-sized, isolated village that sits deep in a large, beautiful, rich forest. Through the forest ran a river that split the village in two, with a small, simple wooden bridge crossing over. The inhabitants never ventured far from the village other than to gather food, and very few in its history have ever left the forest. Really, they had no reason to. The village was prosperous; there was no poverty, everyone did their share of work to live as well as they desired, happiness was prevalent, and on occasion they would celebrate their simple lives with feasts and parties. The villagers were free to do as they wished within reason, and the village had only a small list of written laws that almost never was broken. Very rarely outsiders would find the village, by way of following the river that ran it through, and often they were welcomed and celebrated, sometimes sharing short stories of the outside world with those that would listen.

Leif, under his father Hallvard, and his mother Arif, did enjoy his life in the village. He was not oblivious to the outside world, for his father was a retired warrior that stumbled upon the village in his travels and decided to stay, but he did not often question his father of his past, nor did his father talk much of it on his own. Leif did approach the outsiders that would sometimes stay overnight for shelter and rest, listening to their stories and inquiring of their lives. He would on occasion be shown or gifted books and journals of short history, and even some religious texts, most of which he did not understand, but read with delight.

When he wasn't busy with simple chores, his father would train him in the use of various bladed weapons. When he was not training with a sword, he was hunting with one. Eventually, however, Leif saw the forest become slightly stale. He told his parents he would be leaving, in order that he might see what contrast the land holds, and that he may experience more than the forest. They did not try to dissuade him; his father wished him well, and told him that when he returns, they would share words of their experiences outside the village. With a nod and some heart-felt words, he left his home.

He was gone only a year, and he did not travel far, seeing only few small villages, and briefly the edge of a desert, before the mist took him to a land far different than his own. A measure of contrast he could never have expected.
Title: Melanie Marcellette Bio
Post by: Tycat on May 10, 2014, 09:32:05 PM
(http://i1174.photobucket.com/albums/r617/tybookins/__stenibelle___by_xxkalixx-d3204jq_zps81cafa82.jpg)

Statistics:

Name: "Melanie Marcellette", literally "Dark one of the Sea"; formerly Amelie Micheaux, of the minor Noble house Micheaux of Dementlieu, Port au Lucine
Age: 25
Race: Human
Height: 5'9'' / 175.3 cm
Weight: 116 pounds / 8.2 Stone
Build: Wiry, Lithe, Delicate
Eye Color: Sea Mold Green
Hair Color: Dyed: Black / Natural: Unknown publicly.
Alignment: Neutral Evil, a very selfish woman with a heart as dark and unforgiving as the misty seas
Class: Bard
Deity: Unknown if she prays to anyone or anything other than the Sea
Location of Birth/Origin: Port au Lucine
Current Origin: Blaustein

Biography/Background:

     Amelie as a child was the youngest and the most wild of four children: Stephen Micheaux, Melisande Micheaux, and Odette Micheaux. She was born from a scandalous affair between her mother, Lady Micheaux, and a dashing gendarme, Javier Marcellette, and was often reminded all her life long that she was a bastard child. Her father constantly blamed her mother for her unruliness and and cavalier free spirit, and so deemed her a blight on the Micheaux family name.
     Lord Micheaux blamed Little Amelie for everything one could fathom that happened ill in his life. He blamed her for the spice trade being low, blamed her for the collectors, blamed her that he was unable to rise in status, blamed her that his wife cheated. He even once blamed her for a storm sinking one of his vessels, and with it, precious cargo of pepper and safflower. For this act of the misty sea, he beat her with a riding crop the day before her debutante ball - for her sixteenth birthday. Amelie was always the focus of Lord Micheaux wrath, and always would he take what ever problem he had out on her. Her elder brother and sisters looked the other way, and even her cousins wouldn't dare be caught sympathizing with her.
     The day of her ball, she had to wear her hair in an unfashionably lopsided do to hide her blackened eye. Make up only did so much to diminish the bruises and cuts, and she tried her best to strive for excellence and grace. But when a baker caught a glimpse of her face, he accused her of being a street rat who had stolen the gown she wore. Jailed, her father refused to pay her bail. She sat there, bitter and jaded, harrowed and cold. She vowed to become the blight in any man's eye who would cross her, and she took her father's accusation to heart. She became as cold and unforgiving as the misty sea of Sorrows.
     Deep in a dark night, a dashing gendarme turned the key to her cell. He stole her away to a ship heading for Blaustein, giving her what little he had to see her safely there, where she could make a new start.
     "Why would you do this?" She beseeched.
     "Because it is the right thing to do." He responded, hurriedly looking about.
     "I don't even know your name," she was terrified to step onto the skiff with the boatswain.
     "It is best you do not. Now go, mademoiselle! For you are the dark one the guards will seek.
     Those words clung to her as she stepped into the boat, and they drifted away to the barge. "Marcellette!" A gendarme called down to the docks. The dashing rescuer answered, and vanished, "No, no sign of her here!"
 
     For you are the dark one the guards will seek. And it was from the moment she stepped onto the unforgiving shores of Blaustein, that she called herself Melanie Marcellette, The Dark One of the Sea.
Appearance:

She is wiry thin, and tall. She could be called sickly if not for her healthy legs, strengthened by time spent at sea riding the ships with sure footing. She tends to "walk from the hips", meaning that she leads from them, her back straight and back in a lounging posture. Her shapely form ends at her legs, while her bosoom consists of small athletic breasts - suppose an A cup - that rob her of curves. But she does not let this deprive her of femininity. Draped in an assortment of fine silks of varying patterns over form fitting suede trousers, she tends to favor golds, olives, burgundies, sienna, and other rich hues, and adorns her garments with royal blue gems, sapphires, emeralds, what ever she can get her hands on that sparkles. Her lips are painted rich wine red, and she is seen applying it again and again to maintain perfection.

Her hair is wavy and long, the ends brushing just the top of her buttocks. She keeps two french braids along side the crown of her head to keep the wisps of hair out of her face in the wind. Her skin tone is olive, lightly speckled with freckles across her nose. Her eyes can only be described as a pale green the color of sea mold, and over her right, a slashing scar that just barely did not blind her. She wears this scar, and any other she bore, like badges of gold and jewels. She seems to pride herself on her rugged elegance, with little shame of it.

She is often seen in song and dance, and her voice is a strange mixture of accents from Port and Blaustein.

Theme Song:
[youtube=425,350]EOrE2Qr1FMU[/youtube]
Title: Lierra Lunora
Post by: Faeble on May 12, 2014, 02:51:57 PM
(http://i1210.photobucket.com/albums/cc409/TwinVirtue/a2ca63ec-53b2-4f7a-b877-a5971733a773.jpg)


Name: Lierra Lunora
Race: Elven/Fey
Age: Unknown, given that she is an elf an estimate is difficult to make and she herself does not know.
Build: Lithe and athletic
Hair: A dark auburn
Eyes: A warm honey brown, almost golden.
Religion: None
Land of Origin: Midarin

Physical Description:

Lierra is a creature built for grace and dexterity. She wears faded leathers that conform to her small frame and makes movement easy for the elven woman. More often than not, she will keep the hood of her aged green cloak up and tugged low over her face to prevent others from getting a good look at her. Across the bottom part of the right side of her face and running down her neck is a wicked looking scar that was seared into her flesh long ago. The scar mars her other wise pleasing features.

She has large, honey brown eyes that are nearly golden in color and that when cast in firelight would seem to glimmer if one could catch her with her hood down. Her auburn hair is shoulder length and cascades downwards in loose waves. Careful to always keep herself mostly covered, she never bares her wrists which would reveal scars etched around both of her wrists.


Biography: ((Will add at a later time))
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: WhenTheSunGoesDown on May 16, 2014, 01:47:41 PM
(http://i1327.photobucket.com/albums/u666/autumn-red/Sharde_zps127b7d9c.jpg) (http://s1327.photobucket.com/user/autumn-red/media/Sharde_zps127b7d9c.jpg.html)

Name: Sharde E'lin
Race: Wood elf
Age: 98
Build: Slim
Hair: Auburn
Eyes: Grassy green
Religion: Solonor Thelandir
Land of Origin: Semberholme Faerun

Description:
Sharde tends to be on a taller side, standing at 5'4'' above the ground. Shoulderlong auburn tresses are often tied in a ponytail on the back of her head. Grass green eyes are almond shaped and fringed by long thick lashes. Sharde has an expressive face. Her features are delicate and finely chiseled. The cheeks are adorned with little freckles. Winged brows, and a pointed chin lend her features upward movement.

The woman seems very slim; her steps are soundless, silent. When she hunts out in the wilds, she paints her face with juice of berries and plants, as if following some odd ritual. Her bow is always within her armreach, two blades resting in sheathes upon her back. Her neck is adorned with an arrow-like charm.

Background:
Sharde was born in the depth of the ancient forest of Semberholme. Her childhood was nothing out of ordinary, happy and carefree in a village hidden upon treetops, away from other races. Yet at the time passed, the young elf had grown more aware of the dangers her beloved forest held. She trained to use her bow and short swords from the early age, eventually joining scouts of the settlement to protect her kinsmen from possible threats.

Despite the reclusive nature of her kind, she used to join her father in his visits to human cities to conduct trade there. Such trips taught her some tolerance toward other races. Yet while big cities made her curious, her heart was always with her forest. The mists found Sharde as she was returning from her scouting mission with a very important report - she located an Auzkovyn warband moving toward her village. The report was never delivered...

Music theme: Time's scar (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PZ595N9NZVg)
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: ThePwush on May 16, 2014, 04:02:55 PM
(http://i1202.photobucket.com/albums/bb362/ThePwush/Rhetralreduced.jpg)
Make the outfit red overall.

Name: Rhetra'Bushion, aka "Sunshine" aka "Petal" aka "Spazz" aka "Damn, she's fast" aka "Damn, she's not right"
Age: 127
Race: Visually, an elf.
Height: 4 feet, 11 inches
Weight: Equivalent to that of a wet sock
Build: Petite structure, though top heavy.
Eye Color: "Blind"
Hair Color: Natural green with flower blossoms of red and white
Alignment: Lawful Good
Class: No class whatsoever. Kind of unbalanced. Oh, that class. Sorry. Monk.
Deity: None, though she has an understanding with many types of "Powers", particularly Ilmater and Sune.
Location of Birth/Origin: Sigil and the First Layer of Celestia are the lands she knew before
Current Origin: Based in Vallaki and Degannwy.

Biography/Background: Not. All. There. Dat should do it :P Just kidding. I'll fill out later.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: MatticusCaesar on July 10, 2014, 12:54:35 AM
Remo Fenberry

(not exactly a full bio, but this is the version of the in-game character description I wanted to use but was prevented by a character limit.  It is similar to what you will see in game, but this is a bit longer.)

Height: 3'7"
Weight: 83 pounds
Eyes: Green
Hair: Black
Age:  Appears late 20's to early 30's by human standards

This halfling appears to have been the subject of more violence than an entire Shire's worth of his kind might ever experience in total.

His armor bears signs of heavy road wear and displays the marks of many beatings belayed, cuts countered, and piercings prevented.  Even his tassled helm looks as if it has been crushed and hammered back into form several times. 

When in his armor, he sports a sextet of kukris: two slung in criss-crossed sheathes over his shoulders, two vertically on either side of him hanging from his belt, and two horizontally affixed on his lower back.

He's an unusually well-built member of his species: being muscular and hardy, yet still spry.  He's not particularly handsome, but it would also be unfair to call him ugly.  His beard, such as it is, consists of two thin dangling "ropes", purple beads woven in along the lengths.  The ends of each length appear slightly frayed.

What he lacks in looks, however, is made up in his apparent ability to work with others.  As he interacts, you note his speech conveys a sincere friendliness, and his words are rife with humor, witticisms and sarcasm.  He seems to genuinely care for those around him.

He does seem to carry himself with passion, eagerness, and confidence.

Trickster?  Champion?  Thief?  Adventurer?  Difficult to say, but perhaps this is someone your group could use...
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Syl on July 11, 2014, 05:41:45 PM
Monica O’Sullivan (more to come )
(http://i1262.photobucket.com/albums/ii616/Naminami3/Monica_zpsae81bcda.jpg) (http://s1262.photobucket.com/user/Naminami3/media/Monica_zpsae81bcda.jpg.html)
Race Human

World: Earth

Attire: Old celtic attire kilt and very bright colors

Monica O’Sullivan is ah celtic las raised in a village with her mother and father and four other siblings. Being the oldest of five her father who was hoping for a boy taught her how to hunt track and a few other survival skills needed in the world they lived in to help provide for the family. Her mother taught her how to cook and work the hides they brought home from the morning hunts.

She is a very energetic girl and kind hearted as well. Always offering to help others when she is able to and Loves to explore since she was a wee babe, she despises the thought of killing someone for greed or just because to kill them. a bit squimish at times and is easily freaked out at the sight of too much blood or a brain in a jar. Also not very keen of spiders or dead things calling them gross smelly and just down right creepy, she can usually be seen with a smile on her face a heavy crossbow on her back a quarterstaff attached to her pack with a dagger hilt sticking out of the top of her boots one in each boot. She is also very friendly but is prone to speaking her mind from time to time which can land her into trouble if she is not careful. She is a nimble one normally using her quarterstaff to vault her over bodies should they be to close together or blocking a door and when she is forced to fight humans dwarfs elves or anything else that is human looking she can be seen aiming to more weaken them then kill only adding to her disliking of killing folks letting them get away, rather then hunting them down.

She is not a warrior or someone who is use to the hardships of death.  She is just a young girl who enjoies the simple things in life, friends family and finding the hidden beauty in places where most others wouldn't. While she is a simple girl and can be feared and scared of things she offten has the strength to face her fears as best she can. be it facing down a killer vampire with nothing but a dagger to defend her friends. or facing a nightmare of seeing someone burned alive infront of her just to get a sword. she will always find her courage to face her fears as best she can.

She would rather see people smile and work together then see them at each others throats, a fast learner though life lessons seem to come slower to her then most slightly accident prone normally showing up at camp a bit bruised or some small cuts on her.

Likes: Adventure, exploring random caves always looking for something new, traps, Fancy papers (scrolls) making friends, cooking, drinking, and hunting, star gazing, story telling. walking through the woods.

Dislikes: having too much money, killing people (big no no for her people being anything from human elf dwarf gnome halfling begger darkling anything that is willing to talk first before attacking) people insulating her mother. Spiders undead things ( mummies especially) to much blood and gore. Isenduril Mel'fesef (Izen as she calls him) Not being able to help those she cares about.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Xarnata_Mobile on August 10, 2014, 05:51:58 PM
(http://i45.tinypic.com/33uwlqq.jpg)
Severo Aruno Jacca

World: Unknown (To be determined based on where one could 'buy' a memory wipe)

Attire: Outfits to blend into whatever society/group around. Most often used: Nude (Until a shadowing becomes deeper)

Themesong:
Spoiler: show
[youtube=425,350]n_LR5XHyFSc[/youtube]


"What would you pay to wipe away everything? A clean slated mind. Free of worry and petty emotions. Love. Hate. Fear? What would you do with this.. freedom?"
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Chaoshawk on August 10, 2014, 08:28:29 PM
.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Xarnata_Mobile on August 31, 2014, 01:57:39 AM
(http://i.imgbox.com/9zsiz2jE.jpg)

Name: Telxar Raxis
Origin: Unnamed World (Final Fantasy 2: Pre-War)
Age: 21
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 138lbs
Race: Human
Profession: Craftsman, Locksmith, Clockwork Engineer
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Dirty Blonde, Short, Frazzled

Always carrying a pickaxe, a hammer, and tools of his trade. Defined but not bulky, he has the physique of a man proud of his labors.

Background
A miner from the town of Salamand, Telxar was a typical boy with typical aspirations and parent pleasing hobbies. He liked to tend to the livestock, aid in the fields come harvest time, haul shipments of Iron, Copper and Mythril down the snowy mountains. He even took to the books in his spare time reading on the tumblers of doors, the intricately designed cogs of a clock. A few weeks after his twentieth birthday he began taking up the pick on his own, and rarely ever came down from the mountain for more than the usual aid to the others of his townsmen in harvest and planting season. He always sent iron and Mythril back to the town to stay, but requested for bundles of copper bars to be shipped to his tunnel. He filled the tunnel with the ticking of hand made clocks bulky as they were without proper tools, several geared crossbows and even empty chests just made to test his locksmithing and 'home security'. The day he disappeared his tunnel collapsed, the ticking of so many clocks so suddenly silenced shortly after he had finished creating his newest contraption. A geared box that, when wound, would build pressure within itself until it burst in a spray of metal shards, needless to say.. it was wound too tightly. Such a horrid misty night, his clocks ruined, all his security measures either sprung or disabled, his contraption a pile of scrap metal, but no body to return.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Zwickelfaust on December 17, 2014, 10:16:49 AM
Name: Vladimir Albescu
Origin: Vallaki, Barovia
Age: 19
Height: 6'2
Weight: 210 lbs
Race: Human
Profession: Locksmith, scout, aspiring Garda
Eyes: Brown
Hair: short black with a stubble beard

(http://pathtogolarion.wdfiles.com/local--files/sandpoint/JodarProvolost)

Background: Born to a loving family in Vallaki, Vladimir lived in a household of strict discipline. His father, Cezar was a Vallaki Garda and was strict but fair to Vladimir and his little sister, Sorina. He and his father often butted heads against Cezar's strict rules. This lead Vladimir to fall into the wrong crowd, learning the art of stealth and lock picking, never to steal anything, only for entertainment. When Vladimir was only 17, Cezar was killed in the line of duty, leaving his mother, Madalene to take care of Vladimir and Sorina alone. She was so wrapped in grief that one day, she left the house in the dead of night and never returned. Vladimir had no choice but to finally grow up and become a man. He tried to take care of Sorina as best he could, but he couldn't make the coin to sustain them both. He ultimately ended up putting her in the orphanage so she had a chance at life. He then picked up the sword and halberd his father used to train with and began to master the weapons. He donned his fathers civilian armor, getting used to the weight of the heavy armor. He decided to return to Vallaki after spending a great deal of time outside the walls, improving his skills. He now dwells in the outskirts like a common outlander, hoping to find a Garda officer to sign up and serve. He believes that his father would be proud that he is trying to follow in his footsteps. He wants to send all his pay to his little sister to make sure she is taken care of.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: GreatPigeon on January 26, 2015, 02:11:12 PM
Name: Sakhr Bakari
Origin: Mulhorand, Mishtan: City of the Dead
Age: 26
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 170 lbs
Race: Human - Mulan
Profession: Slave - Temple guardian
Eyes: Light Green
Hair: Shaved

Biography:
Born a slave to a family of slaves in the slave intensive agrarian and theocratic society of Mulhorand.  Of Anhurran slave stock and stationed in the city of Mishtan to guard the temples of the dead- it is all he knows.  Placed under decree to the authority of the Osirants, he was a rebellious sort. His early teenage years full of the same angst as others, though instead of rebelling against his parents, he rebelled against the authoritarian rule of the theocratic state. Only by his lack of acquired years was he spared the gallows.  The rebellious spirit in his was beaten out, instead of the first interface- that being  guarding the temples against the grave pillagers and cleaning them above for the use of the priests he was sentenced below.  Below the temples he was instructed to put the restless dead back into slumber, it was a day in and day out affair and not one that was rewarding. The only reward was keeping his own life.  Some several odd years passed in the dark crypts below and one day he fell into a sarcophagus and could not escape, the heavy stone lid falling on top of him.

It was to no avail attempting to lift the lid, what seemed like days passed... When the lid was finalyl lifted, mists swirled about him, the torches long since out around him he wondered around in the thick blackness and cloudy swirls ending up in the Vistani camp...

His new world had begun.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: bidocks on February 26, 2015, 03:09:51 PM
(http://www.briancidocks.com/images/chanceport.jpg)

5'11"
Medium Body type, but well defined muscles.
Hair:  Brown, cut shorter than he used to wear.
Eyes:  Baby Blue, sparkling bright eyes.

By most human standards, he would be considered quite attractive, though of course, everything is subjective.  He is quick to smile, and his emotions, mood and some of his thoughts are given away by his facial expressions that he has difficulty hiding.

Chance gew up a relative commonor in Waterdeep, who became a Tymorran Priest.  He then set out for Amia Island, Cordor in particular to find his own way, and his fortune.  Secretly, or not so, he is just a romantic, and really wanted to find love.  After some failed relationships, he moved to Ruathym, and swore service to the Jarl and First Knight of Wiltun.  His first duty was the care of the First Knight's daughter, the Lady Viola.  He eventually was named Court Cleric of Wiltun, and a Jarl Warden of Wiltun.  He began to court the lovely but troubled Lady Viola.

His duties included both acting as advisor to the Lord of the House and as bodyguard to his daughter.  He also sought ways to clean the curse off the land of Caraigh, which he swore to protect. The Wardens make routine patrols of Caraigh, a place known to harbor evils due to a curse placed by Lord Blackmoor half a century ago.  Undead roam the night, Skeletal Knights being especially dangerous, along with Hags that can rip a man to pieces with a spoken word. 

During one of these patrols, Chance and Viola came upon a hag.  Not unusual, and they prepared for battle.  It was nearly the witching hour, and mists poured into the area.  Chance raced forward to attack, and found himself flat on his back in a land far, far from home.  Nearly a day later, his love, the Lady Viola found her way through the mists as well.

His Journal:  http://www.nwnravenloft.com/forum/index.php?topic=39679.0
Title: Miklos Varga
Post by: mf_hansen on March 29, 2015, 05:42:07 AM
(http://vignette4.wikia.nocookie.net/adwr/images/2/24/Po_hu_m_53.png) (https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/10261134/NwN-PotM/miklosvarga.html)
Name/Aliases:
Gender/Age:
Race:
Profession:
Languages:
Accent:

Weight/Height:
Body build:
Skin type:
Hair style:
Scars:
Tattoos:
Colouring:

Philosophy:
Deities/Beliefs:
Personality:

Gear/Jewelry:
Habits/Hobbies:
General Health:
Favorite Foods:
Weaknesses:
Character Build:
Miklos Varga, Miko, Markhov
Male, 20+
Half-Vistani, Gundarakite
Mercenary
Balok, Luktar, some Common
Sporadic Luktar curse words

210 lbs, 6' 0"
Stocky, muscular
Greasy, with clearly visible pores
Very short, with beard stubble
Healed scars on back, castrated
"Half Blood", written on right forearm
Brown hair and eyes, slight skin tan

"Trust in others will kill you someday."
The Morninglord, when convenient
Direct, calm, rational, humble, private

Chain mail, mace, shield, greatsword
Basic herbalism, trapping, code writing
Average endurance and immune system 
Roast pig, cold water, avoids alcohol
Low self-esteem, trouble sleeping
Rogue/Ranger/Assassin
Spoiler: Backstory • show

Miko was the product of a brief love affair between his mother Ingrid Varga and a Vistani traveling past their farm outside Zeidenburg.
She managed to keep this a secret from her husband Fredek, and Miko grew up alongside his Gundarakite sisters Antonia and Mariska,
learning to hunt and set traps from his father while his sisters herded sheep and grew crops with their mother.

Refusing any involvement with Ardonk Szerieza's rebels, the family lived peacefully until 759 BC when Fredek discovered Miko's secret.
His father cut a deal with Vasili, an old merchant friend in Tancos, marrying away his oldest daughter Antonia and trading sheep furs
as long as Vasili took Miko under his wing as a student, taught him to read and write, and kept him away from his father.

Vasili kept his word on most accounts, but sent Miko off in secret to Curriculo, to train under Markhov as an Invidian mercenary.
Vasili also helped Markhov castrate his new Half-Vistani pupil and brand his forearm so Miko would forever know he was a half-breed.
Only Antonia knew of this mistreatment, but they were both told to keep it from their family or the other would die in a horrible way.

Reading and writing became part of his training, and the two were permitted to exchange letters to keep Miko motivated for working.
On a rehearsed family visit Miko finally managed to deliver a cipher to his sister, allowing them to write secret messages to each other.
As a child, Miko always had an interest in riddles and puzzles, and finally it paid off; the two could communicate privately again.

Antonia was miserable and expecting her first child, but found strength in the Morninglord's teachings, and it rubbed off on Miko.
Eventually his training was over and Miko was sent off to Vallaki with the Fiery Hearts mercenary group, to gather information on the
local Vistani. They had been all but eradicated in Invidia, but Markhov's thirst for Vistani blood extended much further.

For reasons unknown, the Fiery Hearts suddenly vanished. Miko had earned some trust with the local Vistani, but not enough for them
to reveal their involvement. Markhov ordered Miko to investigate, but after little progress he eventually arrived in Vallaki to take matters
in his own hands. Miko had planned for this; a hint to the Vistani took care of the guards, with only Markhov left for Miko to deal with.

Title: Jacques Martel : Biography
Post by: Master Librarian on May 02, 2015, 09:42:37 PM
Portrait:
(http://i.imgur.com/qJ51i3O.jpg)


Name:                              Jacques Martel
Race  & Nationality:        Human, Dementlieuse
Date & place of birth:     10.3.745 BC - Dementlieu, Chateaufaux
Languages & Accent:      High Mordentish(Predominant accent), Low Mordentish, Balok (Borcan dialect)
Profession:                      Anchorite (Warden) of Ezra (Third Sect)
Weight & height:             5'9", 174 lbs (79kg)


Background:

Spoiler: show
Born in 745 BC as the third child to Dominique and Charlotte of the Martel family in Chateaufax. Jacques's father - Dominique, held a position of a travelling/caravan merchant in a renowned trading company, managing over the years to accumulate enough wealth to start a family business in form of an armor & weaponsmithy - "Le Bouclier Rouge". In the year 741 BC, Dominique Martel had married a simple village girl from Edrigan - Charlotte, who had shortly enough born him their first child and Jacques's elder sister - Élise. Charlotte, despite managing the first pregnancy with great and severe difficulties, by miracle alone, gave birth to male twins in 745 BC, albeit tragically paying the price with her very own life due to health complications.

Death of Charlotte hit Dominique the hardest, crushing his heart and mind, but leaving him resolved enough to raise the trio of his children. The older twin - Edgard, and the younger one - Jacques, grew steadily over the numerous years under the keen eye of both their father and the elder sister.  Unlike his older brother, Jacques had over the time, shown little-to-no interest at all in his father's craft, or the management and inevitable inheritance of family business itself, which tempted Dominique's patience and ultimately infuriated him.

At the age of 9, like a drop which spilled the cup, Dominique had passed the raising of Jacques to none other than the Erudite Anchorites of Ste. Mere des Larmes of Port-a-Lucine, which effectively set Jacques upon his path towards priesthood and servitude to Ezra and her church. It was not until then, that he would discover his passion and love for reading, learning, history, politics and generally - all knowledge which lied upon the reach his fingertips.

Unlike his rather distant brother Edgard, Élise - who herself bore great resemblance to their late mother - would despite her father's demands and wishes, continue to periodically visit and support Jacques by her frequent travels to the capital of Serene Republic over the entirety of next decade. Drawn by the lust for knowledge herself, the two would form a strong sibling love, becoming rather inseparable.

It was not until a day after Jacques's ordination as an Anchorite, that he'd experience the single most tragic and agony-inducing event of his life.

On the summer of 764 BC, the younger twin had finally manifested Her Shield at the age of 19, effectively becoming one of Ezra's chosen Guides & Protectors. In the act of euphoria and jubilation, he had sent a written message to Élise, scheduling a celebration for the day after. Seeking to surprise Jacques by her earlier, unexpected presence, Élise had began a journey during the late night, only to experience the consequences of it shortly afterwards. Ambushed by a band of drunken brigands in the countryside, Élise's book of life was closed in a flash, after brutish violation and endured horror by the hands of intoxicated brutes.

Ignorant of the event which had transpired, Jacques made his path out of the capital on the following day, in pursuit of his beloved sister, only to stumble across the Gendarmerie patrol, exporting the lifeless, abused body of Élise, followed in footsteps by a weeping and broken brother and father on the way to mortuary.

The young Anchorite did not know what devastated his heart more - the fact that his sister suffered a gruesome death, or the presence of unrestrained hate and disdain set upon him by his own brother and father due to arbitrarily perceived responsibility and guilt over Élise's death.

Regardless, the young Martel knew that there was nothing left for him in Dementlieu. He couldn't anymore endure a single moment of torment which chained him to the place. In his meager wisdom, he knew that both his mind and heart had to be tempered, calmed and sharpened ; lest his own guilt trip and anger consume him.

And who other would provide better assistance with just that, than the Pure Heart Anchorites of Mordent - he thought, and thus began his life of a wandering Warden and a scholar, carrying nothing else but his trusty literature collection and heavy, guilty conscience.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Zwickelfaust on July 05, 2015, 11:37:15 PM
BIO update

Name: Vladimir Albescu
Origin: Vallaki, Barovia
Age: 19
Height: 6'2
Weight: 210 lbs
Race: Human
Profession: Private of squad III, Vallaki Garda (scout/investigator)
Eyes: Brown
Hair: short black with a stubble beard

(http://pathtogolarion.wdfiles.com/local--files/sandpoint/JodarProvolost)

Background: Born to a loving family in Vallaki, Vladimir lived in a household of strict discipline. His father, Cezar was a Vallaki Garda and was strict but fair to Vladimir and his little sister, Sorina. He and his father often butted heads against Cezar's strict rules. This lead Vladimir to fall into the wrong crowd, learning the art of stealth and lock picking, never to steal anything, only for entertainment. When Vladimir was only 17, Cezar was killed in the line of duty, leaving his mother, Madalene to take care of Vladimir and Sorina alone. She was so wrapped in grief that one day, she left the house in the dead of night and never returned. Vladimir had no choice but to finally grow up and become a man. He tried to take care of Sorina as best he could, but he couldn't make the coin to sustain them both. He ultimately ended up putting her in the orphanage so she had a chance at life. He then picked up the sword and halberd his father used to train with and began to master the weapons. He donned his fathers civilian armor, getting used to the weight of the heavy armor. He decided to return to Vallaki after spending a great deal of time outside the walls, improving his skills. He has since joined the Garda, becoming an important member of Squad III.

Personality: Etremly loyal to those he respects, often showing obvious favor. He is hard on those who show no respect for authority, often bullying those who oppose him. He is easy to get along with when he is off duty, but on duty, he is serious and cold. His loyalty to Vallaki has no end. He would proudly give his life for the city.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: lashdragon on July 11, 2015, 11:40:33 PM
Name: Lash
Race: Caliban
Age: 18
Height: 5'6 (Hunchbacked)
Weight: 200 lbs
Hair: Small patch of blonde.
Eyes: Blue
Profession: Caretaker (of his mother)
Unusual features: slightly pointed head, red facial hair, tusks, left shoulder overdeveloped creating a hunch, claws on hands and one foot, left foot is a hoof.
Born to one of Doktor Markovs spellcasting accomplices and her dwarven husband, Lash was a Caliban from the moment he was conceived. His birth crippled his mother, and so he cares for her as much as she does for him. While Lash is shy, he is far from passive and is a good friend to those who are kind to him and a dangerous enemy to those who are not. And though he does suffer from some mental retardation, He is quite clever, and is always willing to give his all, be it in combat, or in education; an education no caliban has been gifted with before. Seemingly out of sympathy, but really to study the child, Markov took him under his wing and personally tutored him in everything he knows. As such he is wary of strangers, but his naivety and loneliness often get the better of him, especially when adventurers come through town...



Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: SebastianDeMontfort on August 11, 2015, 06:02:36 PM
Name: Tiran Moreyn
Origin: Athkatla, Amn, Toril
Age: 24
Race: Human, Amnish
Profession: Warrior-monk of Lathander
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 150 lbs
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Dark Brown

Bio: Born and raised in Athkatla, Tiran more or less learned to survive on his own. He fought with other boys, earning a reputation as a pugilist. At the age of ten, however, that all changed.

Slavery isn't entirely unheard of in Amn, though it is not generally public. Tiran found himself bound in service to nameless masters, spending the next seven years as a slave. He grew strong and quick in those years, both physically and mentally. Still, it took a party of adventurers to free the young man, who fought alongside them when freed. His prowess impressed the group, and the cleric of Lathander pointed him towards a nearby monastery, where he could hone his body and mind further. He spent years traveling, learning, and fighting, eventually joining the Order as a lay brother.

He was on a journey of self-discovery when the Mists took him... Can our young hero brave the Domain of Dread, or will he fall to his old, savage ways?
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: MatticusCaesar on September 24, 2015, 02:57:34 AM
Bjarna of Tribe Blitzthorn
Cerilian Rjurik Halfling

Height: 3' 4"/102cm
Weight: 70 lbs/31.8 kg
Eye Color: Violet
Hair Color: Dark Brown
Age: Young 20's by human standards

(http://i30.photobucket.com/albums/c323/matticus_caesar/Halfling%20barbarian_zpsjyffxkop.jpg)

Bjarna, or "Bee" as many in the lands of The Core have taken to calling her, is the very definition of a misfit. 

Hailing from the mountains and snowy forested wilds of northern Rjurik in Cerilia (the focal continent of D&D's Birthright campaign world), she grew up in a hard place with hard people to help her.  She is definitely tribal, but to say she is feral would be neither true nor fair; she understands and lives by the social order of her tribe.

Originally named Petunia at birth, her halfling parents were killed in a violent raid when she was barely a month old.  Having been left to die of the elements and starvation, she was found by human scavengers of the Blitzthorn Tribe who took her in.  It became clear after a few years that Bjarna was some manner of runt, and that she would never grow to full human size.  Despite this, she grew up determined to fit in, never knowing she was even a halfling among tall folk.  She would participate in the warrior games with the other children of the tribe, often being abused and bowled over due to her small size, but this only stoked the fires of her determination further.

Bjarna found fighting to be her real niche, and despite her small size she took to it as a duck takes to water.  She learned the ways of "the boys" - skirmishing, hunting, running, climbing, jumping, wrestling, and the like.  Eventually, she was even able to best some of them in tribal sparring tournaments, ultimately earning her the tribal name "Bjarna", or "Little Girl Bear", from the elders - and her place as an accepted warrior despite her midget status.

Uneducated and simple, Bjarna does not understand that she is no longer in her home world - the concept of "another planet" is simply beyond her ability to grasp.  She believes she is simply lost in another part of Rjurik, though she isn't quite sure how she got here.  The Barovian climate, particularly in late fall, winter, and early spring, is not unlike her home and thus only succeeds in strengthening the illusion of where she believes she is.   Being a denizen of northern climes, Bjarna is not bothered much by colder weather.  This is not to say she is immune from freezing to death, but where others may be pulling cloaks tightly around themselves Bjarna may stand barefoot and underdressed in the cold and simply utter "Is brisk". 

Bjarna grew up speaking Rjurik (something of an offshoot of the Norse languages with perhaps a sprinkle of Celt) and has managed to learn enough of the the local common trade tongue to interact, albeit in a broken and inelegant form.  She doesn't put sentences together well and most words with more than a couple of syllables will cause her grief.  Bjarna will, however, make an attempt to learn others' names and more complex words by sounding them out slowly and deliberately.  She has an unfortunate drooling problem that she simply can't control, and sometimes she "loses her place" and can be caught staring blankly at a wall or into the distance.  All of these things together make her less than an ideal diplomat or ambassador.  Still, Bjarna is both friendly and extroverted and is unafraid to approach a stranger and introduce herself and then "inspect" them in her own way.  Social fear is not a trait that exists in this halfling girl, even if a lot of the more subtle nuances of conversation and interaction escape her and she might make a delicate situation awkward.

She is messy and doesn't pay much heed to her overall appearance, though her physique is an anomalous masterwork for her species: muscular, toned, shapely, spry, and hearty.  Her femininity and beauty, if one can call them that, are of an outdoorsy, rugged nature.  Her clothing and armor are a mismatched assemblies of whatever cloth, furs, hides, leathers, chains, and plates she has been able to cobble together.  She would rather run about naked than be wrapped in the fancy clothes of Port-a-Lucine.  The couple of times people have tried to "domesticate" her there often ended in trails of fancy shoes and torn silk dresses strewn about in her wake as she fled.  While she may let herself go for days at a time as the adventuring life often dictates, she will at some point attend to her hygiene with a dip in a stream or lake.

Bjarna is the embodiment of a free spirit and does not take orders well.  She has no issue with destroying things that are in her way; Bjarna would smash a door to bits as often as she might pull it open with the handle.  She loves combat and is always itching for a fight, whether it be against a real foe or just a good-natured spar.  She can, however, become unpredictable in a fray.  Many have witnessed her start a melee while strategy is still being discussed.  She brings her own brand of battle smarts to a fight; she's got little mind or use for formal tactics, but she adapts well to most combat situations.  She would just as soon try to overwhelm (which often appears comical given her size) an opponent than outsmart it.  Bjarna carries many weapons, but her current go-tos are a dwarven waraxe that looks almost too big for her to wield, or a mace and shield or large hammer when she is battling the undead.  Like any other halfling she is a natural with a sling, and her unusual build, strength and upbringing have provided her expert proficiency with a throwing axe. 

For all her faults and shortcomings, her heart is generally in the right place.  Despite her penchant for fighting and periodic, unnecessary destruction, she'd always prefer to see the "good guys" win.  Those who have traveled, adventured and fought with her know she is a stalwart companion if treated well, and she will fight to the death to protect those dear to her. 
Title: >>deleted duplicate post<<
Post by: MatticusCaesar on September 24, 2015, 11:01:02 AM
 >>deleted duplicate post<<

delete this entry from the entire thread if you wish
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Barovian Beggar on October 12, 2015, 11:46:18 AM
(http://i1175.photobucket.com/albums/r633/Barovian_Begger/Moror_zpswcprzvmt.png) (http://s1175.photobucket.com/user/Barovian_Begger/media/Moror_zpswcprzvmt.png.html)

Moror Morohog (NCE Oct 2015)
Miner and clansmen of Dvergeheim.
A belligerent alcoholic with a short temper.

Recently after working a double shift in the deep mines, Moror had one too many pints of rotgut in Old Althof’s tavern and started a brawl with some off duty soldiers, (Dwarven Guards). It didn’t end well for Moror.

When he finally awoke he was beaten, bruised and hungover standing infront of the king’s throne having to answer for his actions. The damages to Althof’s establishment totaled 1000 gold coins, a sum that sadly Moror could not pay. Upon King Moloch’s judgment, Moror has 30 days to raise the sum and make restitution to Althof’s property or face exile.

Having heard that a group of his kinsmen are setting out on an expedition he has decided to tag along and is hoping for a change in luck and to earn the sum needed to pay for the damages, oh and maybe some whiskey to boot!
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Barovian Beggar on October 29, 2015, 12:37:33 PM
(http://i1175.photobucket.com/albums/r633/Barovian_Begger/Roka_zpsml0xkkos.png) (http://s1175.photobucket.com/user/Barovian_Begger/media/Roka_zpsml0xkkos.png.html)

József Szabós (NCE Oct 2015)
Gundarakite Woodsman and Hunter (Ranger)

Born in 740 b.c.e, his birth place was a small village north of Zeidenburg called Volgy, simply meaning “Valley”. He was raised by his mother Szabina, a priestess who tended a small shrine to the Morninglord. His mother made sure he was a literate man as well as he was taught algebra, history and rudimentary natural science (Herbalism). Uniquely József has a talent in charcoal drawings. He keeps a sketch book with him and can often be seen making sketches and taking notes while he travels.

As a young man József was caught poaching on a local boyar's land and was severely beaten by the militia. He has since harbored ill feelings towards the abuse suffered and the oppression inflicted upon his people.

His path has led him to Vallaki, the last known residence of his mother's brother, Uncle Zeteny.

Despite the hardship he has experienced in his life, József is still optimistic and believes deeply in the teachings of the Morninglord. He prays that one day his people will be delivered from their plight and justice will be served upon his cruel “Barovian Masters”!
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Mereyn on March 09, 2016, 02:49:27 PM
Spoiler: show
(http://i1240.photobucket.com/albums/gg486/Sopharn3/FabAlm_zpsloxtxldf.png)

Fabio Almanico
Race:     Human, Borcan
Sex:       Male
Height:   5' 10" (177 centimeters)
Weight:  170 lbs (77 kilos)
Skin:       Olive
Eyes:      Brown
Hair:       Dark Brown
Religion: Church of Ezra, Home Faith

Appearance:        Fabio is of average height, hardly a stranger to physical labour, but otherwise unremarkable. He has a quiet, sombre demeanor.
                             His attire is most often a suit of platemail, with a long green cloak, bearing a thin white trim.
                             Otherwise he can be seen wearing a suit underneath a well-worn coat. At all times he has a finely carved wooden symbol of Ezra tied around his right hand.

Personality:        Fabio appears to be a quiet man, usually controlled in his speech. More often than not he may jest in a dry fashion.
                            His stoic and disciplined demeanor hide most of his true feelings. All in all, his caustic wit, remarks and fatalistic outlook reveal a cynical worldview.
                            In spite of this, Fabio seems more than dedicated to his faith, with an almost arrogant reassurance in his beliefs.

Special Features:      Upon closer inspection of his face, it becomes evident that at least the left half is paralyzed, stuck in a content and serene expression.
                                   He does nothing to hide the feature, however he is reluctant to share the origin of it just the same. To some this would seem an unsettling trait,
                                   for he adjusted to it by maintaining an emotionless expression at all times.

Short History:        The second son of a Borcan banker based in Lechberg, Fabio was privvy to a higher education, though never to be of any 'use' within the family.
                               Given the freedom he had, he caused occasional mischief - leading to the fated moment of his revelation, and initiation into being an Acolyte of
                               Ezra's Home Faith. His exile to Barovia is primarily self-imposed, to both redeem himself and find his path according to the teachings of his faith.

                     
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Miuo on March 10, 2016, 12:40:11 AM
(http://i983.photobucket.com/albums/ae317/lux198/Miuo_Dar_zpsr23sl52h.png)
Click Here To Download Portrait (https://www.dropbox.com/s/4ul8qsy8rwbu4as/Miuo_Darlings.zip?dl=0)

Full Name: Miuo Eppy Darlings
Pronounced: Mew Dar-Lings
Gender: Female
Body: Pear Shape
Scent: Vanilla & Honey
Height: 2'5"
Weight: 28 lbs
Hair: Black
Hair: Hip Length
Hair: Loose Curls
Eyes: Black
Eyes: Large and Round
Lips: Full
Skin: Sickly Pale
Voice: Soft, High Pitched, Timid
Age: Young
Race: Halfling
Home: Vallaki, Barovia
Languages: Common, Halfling, Elven, Balok, Mordentish, Infernal
Occupation: Scholar, Card Reader, Linguist
Scars: All across her back, inner forearms

Appearance:
Miuo appears malnourished, the likely reason for her overly small statures and sickly pallor as well. Physically one is unlikely to call her "beautiful" in the traditional sense, coming off as sickly and perhaps creepy in appearance, many may find her presence a touch unsettling or unnerving when she happens to be caught staring at the particular individual observing her. Beyond such she is entirely normal in appearance, in that she has no physical abnormalities or unique traits like birth marks or freckles. Should one however see her in more revealing attire they would quickly note her scared back and inner forearms. She however goes to great lengths to ensure that they are concealed and covered nearly at all times. Her appearance would be a blend of barovian traits, as well as that of her outlander father. Such blending has added to the fact of her appearance being seen as undesirable by most. A flatter wide face coupled with the dark color of her irises have given her a bug eyed type appearance that makes her face seem disproportionate in its features. Her curly hair leaves her with a near persistent slightly unkempt look.

Despite her small stature there is little question of her age, due to extensive corset wearing her waist has narrowed beyond that of being normal. Giving her a slightly exaggerated hourglass form, along with the fact of obvious breasts it would take someone of extreme sight loss to mistake her for a small child. Attire wise, she seems to rarely ever wear jewelry. When she does it is only ever items of function. Her ears would be noticeably unpierced, she would also wear no makeup. Her clothing would be simple and modest in appearance. Never seeming to wear anything ostentatious, or revealing.

Motivations:
Those who have traveled with Miuo can note her rather cold of indifference to brutality and violence. Unaware of the fact she had spent nearly her entire existence at the hands of immense physical and mental abuse. This has lead to not only warping her ability to react normally when confronted with such. But has also warp her sense of right and wrong when it comes to social behaviors. She is equally likely to greet you with a pleasant smile and a act of kindness. As to requesting harvesting your flesh should you perish in your travels with her. Her view of socially acceptable/unacceptable and good/evil is blurred at best. This type of upbringing is the single strongest motive for the vast majority of her actions.

Fears:
* Her family, more so her mother.
* Physical contact (less a fear, more so it makes her uncomfortable)
* Falling out of favor with the cards (A deck of cards she has been indoctrinated into believing posses immense divination power)

Dreams:
* To become one of the foremost known linguists.
* Eventually teach the study of various languages to others.
* Possibly gain a position at the university in port teaching various languages.
* Being free from her family, permanently.

What made them become an adventurer:
After suffering systematic abuse, cruelty, mutilation as well as psychological torment at the hands of her mother she fled home when the opportunity presented its self. At first getting as far away from her family, and then loosing her self in the small bustling numbers of Vallaki as well as among the outsiders who could offer some minor protection if she should be found. As well as acting as partial guides and escorts to other areas, and in a way concealment from any who might be looking for a young halfling woman wandering alone.

Where did your PC come from:
* She is originally a resident of the Village of Barovia area.


Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Alan Hunter on March 16, 2016, 06:16:10 PM
(http://img07.deviantart.net/6870/i/2005/212/c/b/wild_elf_by_gpetersz.jpg)

Name: Alan Hunter

Realm: Faerun [Toril]

Age: appears in his late twenties

Height: 5'10"

Weight: 193 lbs

Hair: Brown (dreadlocks)

Eyes: Brown

Skin: Brown/tan (Scar over his neck and a claw scar on his left cheek)

Race: Human (25% elf)

Shape: Lean muscle



Likes: Food, Alcohol, pretty girls, Elvin Maidens, doing what's right.

Dislikes: Spider, Bullies, Destruction of Nature, ruining innocent lives, Tiamat

Personality: Alan is a carefree guy and tends to live life to it's fullest. Each day is an attempt to do what is right and to enjoy life. He believes in balance that all things are not simply black and white. Much like nature things have their place however not all things are set in stone. His mother was a half-elf Druid of Meilikki his father a human Ranger of Arylon they raised their son to be wise and good but against his father's wishes his mother wanted him to know of the truth of heroism. Her death in the battle to free their land from the tyranny of the Tiamat had left Alan bitter against the dragon goddess and more so with his mother he did not blame her for leaving her but of the people who could not stand up to fight their own battles and letting others to do the fighting for them. It was a long hard lesson for him but his father showed him that heroism often is a great sacrifice but it is also one of the greatest prize to look back at your accomplishments. Alan never felt noble nor did he see himself such being the son of a hero. The young man was always polite and humble he learned simply being the son of a hero did not entitle him to things he did not earn himself. His father instilled hard work and discipline and the knowledge of a Ranger and a Druid. Alan can be easily portrayed as a man who follows his heart, humble, kind heart, but he is also discipline to follow his beliefs and stand by what he says and does even if others may disagree. He tries desperately to keep a median or fair ground with those he disapproves or does not get along with due to his father's upbringing.

Disciplines: Trained under the tutelage of Meilikki the Goddess of Nature and her some times carefree attitude Alan easily grew acquainted with her and her ways becoming a adaptable ranger under his father and elves of the Silver Bark Grove. Alan excells as the long bow though he could use other equipment that involves range he will often drop two two ligth weapons when it comes to close quarters showign some prowess in ranger tactics and spells. Due to his father and mothers teaching when he was younger Alan was raised to boserve and learn at an early age a strong belief in still to him through the philosophy of his parents.

"Battle if you cannot Avoid it."

"The choices of others are not the choices you make."

"Through balance is serenity, through observation comes knowledge, and understanding action."

"Do not to others as they treat you but as you desire to be treated."

"Compassion, Consideration, Care these are the seeds in balancing your heart and others."

Recently Alan has begun to self teach in information gathering and has done well. Due to an adventure with Elena he had found a book of Van Richten's Guide to Vampire Hunting and has applied his hunting skills as a Ranger too hunting Vampires, Undead, and recently Werewolves though the latter has proved immensely difficult due to the size of packs. He has also gained discipline as a merchant having worked for Alfdis and a few other mercantile groups as a salesman.


Faiths: Currently although a follower of Meilikki Alan is aware of gods and goddesses and give them the due respect they deserve. Recently due to an experience with the Mist and the observation and research of Ezra Alan has begun to believe in the Goddess of the Mist as Meilikki's voice seems so far. Though he loves nature and wishes to remain true circumstances have changed his life here in the Dread Realms to use the ways of the forest to help him hunt the night that would imbalance the world. Because of this he is dual faith in Meilikki's view of the world and Ezra Strength of how the balance is needed through the grand scheme but is still considered a novice of Ezra and her ways other than the four books given to him by Fabio.

Fears: Aside from Spiders Alan is afraid of failing those close to him to lose them for being so weak. He constantly fears that he will not be able to save anyone as he felt if he were stronger maybe he could have saved his mother. Trials have made Alan question if he could save anyone at all as often it seems to him he doesn't seem to motivate, inspire, or better any ones views or himself. He is also afraid of overly confident and strong women finding them intimidating due to his Elvin Nanny discipline him a lot as a child.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Barovian Beggar on March 31, 2016, 11:52:24 AM
NCE Easter 2016

(http://i1175.photobucket.com/albums/r633/Barovian_Begger/Owen_zpsrp0rcwsf.png) (http://s1175.photobucket.com/user/Barovian_Begger/media/Owen_zpsrp0rcwsf.png.html)

Elijah Owen, Warden of Ezra, Second Sect of the Purehearts

Character Description: A well travelled and road weary man. He is usually dressed in green plate armor with a long sword sheathed at his side. By his attire it is oblivious he is an anchorite to Ezra on a missionary task. Closer inspection would mark him as a warden of the Second Sect, The Purehearts of Mordentshire.
Title: Mandirah 'Man's-daughter'
Post by: Mandirah on April 06, 2016, 09:11:13 AM
((Adapted mf_hansen's template for my own use))

(http://s33.postimg.org/4lfq07h73/Mandirah.jpg)

Name: Mandirah, 'Man's-daughter', Slave Mandirah
Sex/Race: Female Half-Scro (half-Orc)
Age: 19
Origin: Ereshkigal, Spelljammer setting
Class: Druid
Profession: Slave, apothecary, hunter-gatherer.
Languages: Orcish, Common, Druidic
Voice: Alto, clearly-spoken, not often raised.

Height: 6' 0"
Body shape: Lithe shape, with muscular limbs and broad shoulders. (See image for shape reference [1])
Skin type: Light green, rough on her hands from hard labour.
Hair style: Long and black, often pushed back from her face with a plain headscarf.
Features: Two short 'tusks' (long canine teeth) one on each side of her mouth, overlapping her upper lip.
Scars: Many small scars cover her body, but a few longer scars can be seen across her back.
Tattoos: None.
Eye Colour: Dark brown, almost black.

Philosophy: 'The strong lead. I serve the Scro, for they are strong, and nature, for the forces of nature are stronger than even the Scro. It is better to be subjugated by the strong and wise, than to be free and without strength and guidance.'

Personality: Mandirah is a cautious individual, shaped by her upbringing in the slave caste. She attributes any personal strength or virtue to her Scro blood, and any weakness of character to her human blood. While she was once a rebellious slave, over time she was tempered by beatings and teaching to accept her lot in life, and to serve dutifully and obediently. While she is obedient, however, she is not cowed and insecure. Her experiences have bestowed upon her a wisdom beyond her years, and a quiet (but persistent) strength and confidence is present in all she does.

Attire/Possessions: Mandirah dresses in undyed rough leathers that could be described as skimpy, composed of an open waistcoat-style top and a loincloth about the waist. She wore these while at work tending the lush hot land of the planet Ereshkigal, where such attire seems much more fitting. About her ankles are thin bands, bearing inscriptions of ownership by a Scro clan. About her neck, she wears a thick chain with a small hook. This chain was used to bind the slaves on Ereshkigal together in a long line at harvest time; any slave that tried to run with their own share would be throttled as the chain pulled on the neckpiece.

A well-worn quiver is slung over her back, often accompanied by the stave of a rudimentary longbow. Just above her loincloth at her waist, a belt is wrapped around. Small pouches to hold vials and other small items loop about the belt. Finally, she carries a large rough-leather satchel for the rest of her gear (a large club and a chitin shell shield, as well as any other useful items like her cooking pot).

Hobbies/Habits: Mandirah is rarely idle. When she appears at rest, she is often listening or observing intently. She has some knowledge of herb lore, which she uses to produce tonics. She is an adept cook, as this was part of her duties on Ereshkigal. She trains with her bow and club, not for personal glory, but to gather more supplies for herself and the Scro she has found since arriving on the Demiplane, Starscream Urdgar Kemarrin Konjah. She is obsessed with finding him suitable tributes from battle, and with using all four of his Scro names whenever possible, as this only serves to highlight his superiority, and is a reminder to her of their different castes.

Health: Mandirah's general health is good, as she is of hearty constitution, though she does struggle somewhat with the much cooler climate of Barovia when compared with the lush tropical world of Ereshkigal.

Preferred foods: Meat and fresh fruit.

Faults: Mandirah is quick to apologise for any perceived shortcomings. She is also not a conversationalist. She is honest in a simple, blunt way, making her truths often sound unpalatable. Her reverence to the Scro results in prejudiced views towards those who are not Scro, though these are not violent.

Spoiler: History • show

Mandirah was born to a Scro mother, named Bloodskull Bazillak Shagar Shel (Shel, daughter of Shagar), and a human father, a slave named Cespar. Though they endeavoured to keep this union a secret, Shel's belly swelled with child. As Shel had shirked her sacred duty to Dukagsh in this coupling, she was separated from Cespar (who was doomed to hard, backbreaking labour and an early grave) and sent to Ereshkigal, a hot lush planet, where she gave birth. When her daughter, Mandirah, turned ten, she was separated from her too. Forced then to a life of labour and servitude, Mandirah, the half-Scro, had to grow up quickly.

On Ereshkigal, she spent her days in the sweltering heat gathering food and supplies for her Scro masters. In times of drought, she carried water for many miles to ensure that the crops did not die. She was given a bow and sent out into the fields to defend them from wandering beasts, and to claim their carcasses for further food. At harvest time, she and many other slaves were marched along in long lines as they sheared the long grains and grasses, the chain that connected them at the neck growing unbearably hot in the sun. In the sweltering heat, Mandirah toiled, and in nature's harsh embrace, she found power. As she approached womanhood, she rebelled, and was punished for her many transgressions. Moulded by sunfire and the beatings and teachings of her masters, she grew to accept her lot. For nine harvests, she did her duties. Now a young woman, though a woman nonetheless, she knew the time would soon come for her to bear more slaves for the glory of the Scro. Any rebellious thoughts that surfaced with it were swiftly quelled as she worked the land. She gave no thought to dream or ambition, knowing the disappointment she would find.

One day, as Mandirah worked the field, it was particularly hot. Panting for breath, the half-Scro began to find succour enveloping her feet in the form of cool mist. At first, she welcomed the reprieve. It was only a few moments later that she realised her surroundings had changed, the blast of Barovian winter air almost scorching her green skin...

It was then that she saw him. Starscream Urdgar Kemarrin Konjah, a warrior of the Scro.

They were both far from home.
 1. 
Spoiler: Body shape • show
(http://img11.deviantart.net/cb15/i/2015/215/1/4/female_orc_by_pinkypills-d93yyx8.jpg)

Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: GrumpleTumplin on April 30, 2016, 02:27:32 PM
Name: Narrick "The Gambler" Baker
Origin: Neverwinter, Sword Coast, Toril
Age: 24
Race: Human
Profession: Gambler, "Treasure Hunter", conman, All around thrill seeker
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 263 lbs (fat but surprisingly nimble)
Eyes: Hazel
Hair: Dark Brown

Likes: Good Food, Good Friends, sticking it to people that think they are better than everyone else because they have power, and surviving incredibly dangerous situations.

Dislikes: Oppressive governments, people that believe they are superior because of power

Bio:

Narrick grew up in the city of Neverwinter, where he learned the "arts" of deception and stealth.  He applied these skills to gambling, quickly figuring how to bluff his way to victory in games like poker, and how to cheat in games that were pure luck. He used his winnings to set himself up in moderate comfort, enjoying (perhaps too much) good food, and good company.  Of course his "luck" got under the skins of some people, and the conflicts that arose from this (as well as his own uncanny ability to escape the situation) lead to him developing a love of the thrill of danger. This thrill seeking behavior lead him to take up the life of an adventurer. 

Shortly after leaving Neverwinter he heard a rumor about the dead rising in a small village to the south.  He could not pass up this chance to...err... "Help people". So he set off to the village.  Eventually he found the necromancer responsible, and sneaked his way into the spellcaster's library.  After some mild arson, Narrick found himself running from a horde of zombies and trying to hide within a fog bank.

Upon finding his way out of the fog, he discovered he had no idea where he was.  There were mountains here where before there had been only the coast.  He had become trapped within the Land of Mists.

Personality: Narrick is friendly and outgoing.  While he does seek out danger on purpose, he does his best to avoid direct physical conflict.  This means he will try to talk, or sneak his way out of trouble; or misdirect his foes before a fight actually begins so that they will ignore him until he has a chance to strike.  If he can add insult to injury while facing someone in power, he will.

Faults: Narrick does not think very far ahead, and doesn't pay close attention to his surroundings.  He is over confident in his own luck and charm

Fears: Being truly alone, that he will get his friends killed.

Motivations: To help those without power stand up against those with power, to fulfill his inner drive for danger, and to enjoy as much of life as he can.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: TherapyCat on May 01, 2016, 04:52:02 PM

Name: Fawn BildenBottle
Sex: F
Age: Early twenties
Hair Color: Orange/blonde hair
Eye color: Dark  Blue
Height: 3'3
weight: 63 lbs.
Looks: Average appearance, but poor Hygiene

(http://i1043.photobucket.com/albums/b435/Colorfullfan/tumblr_m6x8azzpWS1qkx4l9o1_1280_zps8shjfzsm.jpg) (http://s1043.photobucket.com/user/Colorfullfan/media/tumblr_m6x8azzpWS1qkx4l9o1_1280_zps8shjfzsm.jpg.html)

 









The Story Of Fawn Bildenbottle ( At a Glance)


Abandoned, Left, lost and forgotten. It was a winter’s night, and the snow was falling heavily, the nearby rivers of Oerth were frozen blocks of ice. A infant  halfling, a Tallfellow one to be exact was found by the elf bearing the name Felwyn, the child was told to be left in the snow, covered in nothing but a thin bed sheet.

Felwyn, the young druidess,  was taking her late night stroll, when her companion “ Daisy” starting barking up a storm. Frightened, the dog ran off to the child's side.  Felwyn, eventually found her dog crouching over the halfling. She knew that the elves wouldn’t approve but what was she supposed to do? Leave it there for the Wolfs? No.. she couldn’t. So she took the child back to the Elven settlement... There she presented the sickly child to her elders, they responded by saying :

“ Child, you bring as a child that is different than our own? , you expect us to just raise a child that is not even elven, how can we trust it?”


Felwyn persisted, having a close attachment to the child already. “ .. Why Does being a Halfling change the importance of her life, sisters?”


The bickering consisted for several minutes, before the eldest elf raised her head shushing everyone .


“ Give me the child” she simply said, gesturing to Felwyn. Felwyn kissed the child on the head, before handing her over to the eldest elf. There, she would examine the child, a small grin appearing on the woman’s timeless features.

“ Well.. What would you know.. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen one of you. A tallfellow.. In these woods” .
 “.. a what?” asked Felwyn curiously.

“ A Tallfellow hin,Tallfellows and elves used to run together freely in these woods, before the revolution happened about 200 years ago… The people in the village thought that since they looked like hins they shared the same passion as their cousins : Stealing… The Tallfellows are different, their ancestral roots are much deeper than you think. “

The elven council rolled their eyes “ You are old, and mad”.

“ These hins, their roots are elven.  They are taller than the ones in the city, lighter skin and hair too.. And those eyes. Look at those blue eyes, can’t you tell? This child is something special.Give her a chance for survival yes?”


Felwyn nodded desperately. “ Oh yes please, you must!”

The council, tired of discussing this agreed, nodding to Felwyn” Fine, but she’s your responsibility”.

 The child was always a shy one, even as an infant she never really liked to be touched, other than Felwyn. She developed a stutter when she was young as well, since the age of three when she picked up elven,  perhaps this was because she knew that she was different than those around her, and that made her nervous. Whatever the reason, the elves named her Fawn, bearing the name ever since.. She never knew her birth name, nor her surname. Ever since that day, Fawn grew and grew in the loving arms of Felwyn’s care. The child possessed a special talent for commuting with animals since  the day she was found, gaining the elven council respect . She learned Druidic more quickly, before she picked up eleven. There were several elven children in the settlement growing up, but none of them seemed to have a real interest in fawn, which meant the few conversations she did have was with her mother (Felwyn) and the dog that saved her life as an infant.

When she was in her late teens, she realized more and more that she didn’t belong in the elven settlement, the more and more she explored her Hinnish roots, the closer she bounded with the halfling goddess Sheela. She never could speak fluent Hinnish, but she would often sneak out to venture into the village of Oerth, to watch those of her kin. When the other halfling teens would notice her, they would often ridicule her for her clothing options, and her elven traditions.

So where did she belong?  If she was too hin-like to be an elf, and too much of an elf to be a hin?

She kissed Felwyn on the cheek, hugged her dog closely and said farewell to the elven council, she  then set off unto to her journey to find the truth about herself  . She took one wrong turn into the mists …. the rest is history.
 
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: vlaadfolth on May 14, 2016, 02:21:42 PM
The nights of screams and long candle lit evocations have not gotten him any closer to the power that his dreams have shown him. Trying in his homelands have made him hated by his own kind and along with being raised by humans, his art is not a thing that will make his kind affectionate to him at all. He wanders the "new land" with discontent for most of the beings he encounters but finds some friends. The amount of specters and other underworld beings have made him think there may be purpose to the wandering in this cruel land.

His name is

Malum Mortuus Magum

A male elf in his 120's of average height, Malum is cloaked in dark if not black colors. Always in the search of herbs for others potions and for reagents for his own concoctions. If you see him it is a rarity as the lands here deem him a menace and thus his contempt for the land grows. Or maybe it is a hate for himself. At odds with life itself in his pursuits. Humans curse him, his own kind curse him, the law curses him. As he thinks he curses out loud....

......."did they need to follow me......did they need to cut me and demand that I stop and deal with their laws? No They did not. They will pay. They all will pay. In making them pay....this "Vine" decides to get in my way.....for what....for glory....I sat behind him in the temple as his tongue told tales of my dark art. That was his biggest mistake. I found that this "Vine" was not just a commoner but a skilled bowman. I could only catch a few arrows that came at me from him. Their bite stung. Though he is skilled in deflecting my magic....the blades of the undead sting too......and shall sting again....and again........" (his words gets softer and softer as he smashes his fist into his hand)

 
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: TherapyCat on July 04, 2016, 04:47:30 PM
(http://i1043.photobucket.com/albums/b435/Colorfullfan/6487672_orig_zpsv6abr3cl.jpg) (http://s1043.photobucket.com/user/Colorfullfan/media/6487672_orig_zpsv6abr3cl.jpg.html)
Name: Rosalinda Joy  Janicky
Nickname: Rose
From: Faerun’ (The city)
Born in: Scornubel
Race: Lightfoot Halfling
Age :20
Looks: 12
Height: 3’4
Weight:84 lbs
Eyes: Hazel/Green
Hair: Reddish Brown
Religion: N/A
Class: Fighter

Interests: Fighting, Drinking, and standing up for what she believes in.

Disinterests: Storms, the color pink, and highheels.

The Life of Rose Janicky (At a Glance)


Before Birth:
Her mother , according to her father had trouble keeping loyal however they were never wed. The man that raised her swore that rose was not his biological father which is why rose inherited her mother's last name.

At Birth:
She was Given the name Rosalinda Joy Janicky.
Her father named her rose because she had the same dark rose colored hair as her mother did.

Childhood:

She never attended any schooling, and spent most of her days searching through garbage bins or beating up those who tried to bully or tease her. On the flipside, she would also fight for those who couldn’t stand up for themselves.

Teenage Years:

She spent many of her teenage years, picking up various jobs that were available to feed and pay off her father's gambling addiction so that she didn’t have to keep fleeing from city to city when he couldn’t pay off his fee.

Before the Mists:

Her father had gotten in trouble with the local government, and they were fleeing into the woods, somehow she had lost her father and taken a turn finding herself surrounded by mists .






The known:
Her mother was a very popular Bardess who was known for he enticing stories and her meaningful songs. She was also known for her stunning beauty and her.. Personal engagements . Her name was Janice Joy Janicky, and no-one knows what happened to her, but she was proclaimed dead at 35 and her body was never found. Rose doesn’t remember her mother , she was out of the picture by the time rose was 2.

Her “ Pa” the name that raised her, but never claimed to be her biological father.
Was known for being the cities local drunk, and had a gambling problem. Due to his lack of financial  management Rose had very little structure or necessities growing up. However he did train her how to fight with a sword, but it was mainly for his own benefit.





The Unknown:
Anything about her Biological father.
Anything about magic
Anything dealing with numbers
Any language but common.

Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Song of Danta on August 08, 2016, 08:03:19 AM
I've started writing short biographies here. (https://knightintaupebios.wordpress.com)
Roland, Pieter, and Mikkel are done so far!

EDIT: Maude, Henrikas and Diokles, too! Behold, the worst stories ever.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Syl on August 08, 2016, 01:14:32 PM
Victorie Bahr; born in the city of Port-a-Lucine from a unregistered Falkovnia refugee, her mother raised her as best she could while she grew up in the slums of the city.  Spending her childhood as normal as it could be she would help her mother by either trying to raise coins or find food where she could.

Growing up her behavior was anything but proper for a woman or lady, she was older her anger often caused her to get into a fight or two with a few boys who would make fun of her short hair and her social status . Often acting more tomboyish when away from her mother though still tries act proper for her.

In her later years before her departure, she would hear many speak of the new free company just outside the city walls listening to their tales, and watching them on their occasional patrol through the streets at night. Now she leaves the walls of her city, in search of funds to now take care of her mother as she once took care of her, the thought of the company still lingering in her mind.
Title: Minnalaushee, the illusionary bard
Post by: Romanziere on October 25, 2016, 04:48:25 AM
Character Name: Minnalaushee.
Nickname: Minna.
Race: Moon elf.
Place of Birth: an Elven town-city called Anamliataar, or "Souls that don't learn, but remember", in Common. From the plane of Toril, in the forest of Lethyr.
Deity: Araleth Letheranil, the maiden of Starlight.
Age: depends on who you ask OOC. Some say Elves age slowly from the get-go and that lore makes little sense to
me - would Elven parents really change diapers for decades on end? In the lore I favour, Elves age normally until they reach their twenties instead. Minna in this case is just reaching the "freezing" age, where she'll begin to age slowly and perceive the world differently, more like an elf.

History: she doesn't have much story thus far - grew up in a very secluded and traditional Elven community where trading is the means of commerce and socialism still works because they're too few and too disciplined to break their idealistic system. It is in this place isolated from normal interactions that Minna has reached the point of her life in which others might see her as an emerging adult - but for that she must perform a ritual that is traditional for the Anamliataari people: the "Becoming".
To complete her Becoming, Minnalaushee had to gather coin from the people in her village (everyone gave her an amount proportional to how useful she has been to others as a child and how better the community was because of her), and with this coin she is to embark on a journey far away from her home - to learn what it is to be an elf in a world outside her customs and her kin, to learn what it is to stand on her own without the mileage that her parents have walked for her already.
Minnalaushee chose to have her Becoming at the far-off Arabel... But little did she know she would never see this Arabel, nor would her Light shine upon Anamliataar again...
Appearance:
(http://i.imgur.com/n99ew24.jpg)

Height: very, very short.
Weight: not much. Frail bones, little in the way of gear.
Eyes: light green.
Hair: dark blue, wild, never brushed.
Physical Build: not an adventurer's build, that's for sure. Too thin and weak to even hold a sword properly.
Complexion: almost milk-white so after travelling she's developed a myriad pale sun-kisses that are barely visible - by the sides of her nose and upon her very slender shoulders.
Physical Features: nothing of notice here. Thin, long-limbed, not much in the way of womanly features. No scars, no callouses in her hands but the ones at the tip of her fingers (because of so much practice with string instruments).

Skills: Minna can play most instruments one puts in her hands, given a bit of time and practice. She has a really good ear for sound and can write great songs a day or two after she's witnessed the event that inspired them. She's a poet and a tree-climber: could probably climb from window to window in towns and jump from roof to roof. She knows a bit of herbs and healing and can also play certain magical notes to cast illusions on her audience to help them visualize the stories she's narrating.
Occupation: illusionary performer and keeper of lore. She seeks to travel the world and learn new stories to later perform in other places and connect people with new perspective and beliefs.
Known languages: Elven and Common.

Personality: light-hearted, inquisitive, naïve. She wants to make everyone happy and is happy when she sees others smile... She also lacks the callousness of seasoned adventurers, so she comes out as cowardly and overly sensitive when the horrors of facing evil do show up.
Alignment: Neutral good - she respects the laws wherever she goes, but... Not so much if they push at the boundaries of what she thinks is good and fair.

Equipment and items: Minna carries a large cloth-and-leather backpack with a notebook, a quill and a secured inkpot inside. She additionally always carries her long-necked pale and simply-designed sitar.
(http://www.musmart.in/upload/Sarod/big/2-b.jpg)
Accomplishments: she's considered a bright student in the shrine of Melira Taralen - the school of music and magic of her Hometree.
Goals: to know EVERYTHING and make a song out of it... She wishes to be the name on that old book that a young future hero will pick up at a forgotten library, the one that will inspire them to save the world by reading the epics she recorded and the brave people that she wrote odes to.

Possible Plot-Hook Ideas: if you want a song written in your name, take Minna for a spin! Have her along for your adventures and she will compose a tribute to them. She's brand-new here (as am I) so I'd be down with a mentor and I'm totally open to RPing with most evil factions: I know that it's hard to find a PC that -isn't- a warrior, that -isn't- strong and untouchable, and thus there is Minna.
I like to see her as plot fuel - whatever brews, she's a clean slate waiting for it.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Song of Danta on October 26, 2016, 04:30:05 AM
A quick run-down of all my currently active characters. No particularly spoiler-y details here.

(http://i.imgur.com/WyYCihP.png) (https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B1hZst59EbhTMUVZdmNuQWROSm8)

Name: Rurik Kasparkov
Race: Half-Vistani (Vatraska).
Origin: Torgov, Vorostokov.
Age: 19
Build: Bulky, toned.
Eyes: Dark brown.
Hair: Shorn, black.
Complexion: Ruddy with an olive tint.
Skills: Navigation (snowy terrain), tracking, carpentry, weaponry, survival, use of medicinal herbs, animal husbandry.
Occupation: Woodsman, craftsman.
Known Languages: Vos.
Traits: Shy, cautious, diligent, quick-tempered, affectionate, loyal.
RP Themes: Craftsmanship, survival, loneliness, madness (Lunatio).
Frequent Haunts: Zeklos Outpost, Vallaki's Southern Forest, Krofburg.

(http://i.imgur.com/RfKkkKs.png) (https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B1hZst59EbhTRm1lTkcydGVwSXc)

Name: Mikkel Naustvik
Race: Human.
Origin: Helbenik, Valachan.
Age: 30
Build: Above Average.
Eyes: Dark Brown.
Hair: Black, coarse.
Complexion: Bistre.
Skills: Medicine, healing, ritual magic, spear hunting, poisons.
Occupation: Healer, Priest of Hala.
Known Languages: Vaasi, Mordentish.
Traits: Tolerant, patient, spiritual, proud.
RP Themes: Healing, hag-hunting, eliminating the roots of suffering.
Frequent Haunts: Sisters of Compassion Hospice (Port-à-Lucine), Hospice of the Loom (Vallaki).

(http://i.imgur.com/UtM1Z8q.png) (https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B1hZst59EbhTMVNJbE9lVDdQUGc)

Name: Malagdrin
Race: Half-drow.
Origin: Guallidurth, Middledark.
Age: Unknown.
Build: Willowy.
Eyes: Ruby red.
Hair: Off-white.
Complexion: Ash colored.
Skills: Navigation (underground), scavenging, tracking, masonry.
Occupation: Vagabond, Lurker (Clerical title).
Known Languages: Xanalress, Undercommon.
Traits: Zealous, calculated, porphyric, mystic, reclusive.
RP Themes: Religion, Underdark culture, outcasts, slavery.
Frequent Haunts: Degannwy and the nearby cavern system. Any uninhabited cavern in Barovia and Hazlan.

(http://i.imgur.com/UxofhlA.png) (https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B1hZst59EbhTZVRyVFdrWkJFMTA)

Name: Roland d'Espivant (formerly Poulin).
Race: Human.
Origin: Port-á-Lucine.
Age: 36
Build: Stocky.
Eyes: Brown.
Hair: Light brown.
Complexion: Fair.
Skills: Chain smoking.
Occupation: Gendarme.
Known Languages: Mordentish.
Traits: Grumpy, family-oriented, workaholic.
RP Themes: Altruism, investigation, family.
Frequent Haunts: Port-á-Lucine - The Bullseye, The Gendarmerie Headquarters, Quartier Marchand, Quartier Ouvrier.
Title: Rainer Lehmann : Biography
Post by: Master Librarian on October 27, 2016, 11:52:15 PM
Portrait:
(http://i.imgur.com/wVtrvos.jpg)


Name:                             Rainer Lehmann
Pseudonym:                    Liberius Nero
Race  & Nationality:        Human, Darkonese
Date & place of birth:     22.10.753 BC - ???
Languages & Accent:      Darkonese(Predominant accent), Falkovnian
Profession:                      Arcanist
Weight & height:             6'1", 187 lbs (82kg)
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Zatvair on February 15, 2017, 12:45:19 PM
Krul

An excerpt from Dr. Dermen's  study of the Desert people of Hotahanna. Krul was probably the most curious out of all of them he was the first one to take an active interest in me and even has learned enough of my language that we are able to make mild conversation. Though I want to know more about him he constantly has questions for me, They are always questions of where I came from, where I've been where I'am going. I believe through our talks that Krul wants to see more of the world and not just this desert.

Hotahanna are a Nomadic Desert people. that hunt and eat much of the wildlife to maintain there high protein diet. There large size is sometimes quite unbelievable until I see that the only non meat  thing they bother to grow and eat  in the desert is cacti for the water.

The Hotahanna have very limited interaction with the other races that inhabit or world, but I've learned they often will accept payment for travel and guidance through the harsh desert. I believe they see the value in the gold coins we call money. As a  way to buy superior weapons and armor.

Krul the most curious among his people has come to me asking that I take him out of the desert with him. His people say a man should see the world before he settles in. I have agreed to the Hotahanna's request to take Krul with me  after they had been such gracious hosts helping me with my research its the least I can do.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Iridni Ren on February 15, 2017, 02:11:36 PM
Iridni Ren (“Holy Renewal”) was born 16 years before entering the Mists in Chathold in the Prelacy of Almor. (She has since turned 17.) She is a mix of Rhennee and Suloise, resulting in violet eyes, very dark hair but pale skin. The striking appearance calls undesired attention to her. She feels inadequate and is not often quick-witted or knowing how to make small talk. So she'd usually rather listen to others than put herself forward. She does have unusual wisdom for her age about spiritual questions but only average intelligence.

Her own childhood was pleasant, but she saw poverty and desolation around her and from girlhood felt the calling to enter the service of Pelor. She wanted a path that her gentle meekness and lack of ambition for worldly success would be assets instead of handicaps. In her heart of hearts she would love being a loyal wife and raising a family, but most men frighten and intimidate her. Despite her physical beauty, she fears a husband would over time find her personality dull and tiresome.

The cloister appealed to her because a god's love is unchanging and everlasting. Her coordination is only average, so she also preferred a routine where she was less likely to mortify herself by being clumsy. Her need for predictability makes her worry she's boring to be around.

She has no clue why she was pulled into the Mists, but the experience was horrifying. She now feels abducted by a maniac who says he intends to keep her isolated with him for the rest of her life. She seized onto the Wayfarer Kinship as a lifeline offering her something like what she was accustomed to and needed to thrive (stability and good-oriented companions).

Her greatest desire now is to please her god. She does this through serving others, particularly her companions, and destroying undead. Conflict in general makes her stomach hurt but it's worse between people she cares for. Iridni can resort to violence if doing so will further her deity's aims, but otherwise she wants to avoid it. She wants to avoid killing human type creatures and seeks out only supernatural or unintelligent monsters like undead, weres, and the nonsentient.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Greengrowl on May 24, 2017, 01:12:21 AM
*Pic Coming- I am sleepy*
Name: Deva K. Willown
Race: Human.
Origin: Faerun, just outside Neverwinter
Age: 20
Appearance: Thin, not strong at all and pretty mostly by youth. Fair with some sides toasted by time in the sun. Blue eyes, ash brown hair.
Attire: Ranger's garb with pockets, belts and sheaths aplenty. She can't seem to resist a modicum of stylish flair in her cuts and dyes, however.
Known Languages: Common, not a lick of anything else.
Personality: impish, loud, emotional, flighty, manic, or anything that floats in on the breeze. As easy to manipulate as she is to please.
Loves: Exploring, Outdoors, Banter, Music, Poetry
Hates: Herself probably. Being in the Core.
RP Themes: Forest, Empathy, Innocence
Frequent Haunts: Vallaki Outskirts, the Lady's Rest, Degannwy
Alignment: CG. What she wants for in her heart is to do good- how she goes about it is dodgy and unclear even to herself. Very little guidance.
Possible Plot-Hook Ideas: Message or meet me IG to find out more.

Quick Background: The last of 6 children and the only girl, Deva's mother died in childbirth to twins. Surviving for a time on moderate income, the family was proud to host a library and a piano until falling on hard times and moving to a modest farm. Her father and brothers joined the logging business and, unwillingly possessed of boyish qualities, she took to falling in love with the woods and knowing them deeply.

In a most foreboding manner her father told her she would receive a special gift when she turned of age. Unfortunately her turning arrived with the Mists, and the harrowing of the Core upon her innocence has manifested the gift in strange and enchanting ways... with no Mother, no family to help her unravel the ribbons.

Worse still, she was with her twin brother when the hazy scenes of her misty capture cloud her memory. Did he come with her and was now lost, or did she leave him alone and bereft? Either truth tugs her heart awake at night.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Mailbox-2100 on May 24, 2017, 04:12:49 AM
void main()  */Thank you Greengrowl (http://www.nwnravenloft.com/forum/index.php?topic=623.msg576225#msg576225), for this template!*/

(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/1c/6b/8b/1c6b8b5361b1c02d5c93e8179d052d4e.jpg)

Name: Argali Dupont
Birthname: Maudlyn Dupont
Race: Elven (Mixed ancestry, sun & moon)
Origin: Faerun, The City of Thieves: Riatavin
Age: 102
Appearance: Tall, for an elf; and preternaturally powerful. Scars mar her visage, but she seems to take them in stride. Her eyes are oddly mismatched.
Attire: Not typically as depicted. Often donned in magical vestments and armed to the teeth.
Languages: Common, Elven, French(?) :D
Rumors! Argali is a member of the Wayfarer Kinship, a local Vallaki-based guild of sanctioned mercenaries, fully held in accordance of the Count's Law.
Personality: Cheerful. Playful. Mischievous. Valiant and vexed.
Loves: God's creation.
Hates: Villainy!
RP Themes: Discovering the ancestry she was denied as a child, growing up with her father, a highly decorated Cabalist.
Frequent Haunts: Vallaki municipality, Mistcamp, Port-au-Lucine
Alignment: Lawful Good: A code defines her being.
Plot-hook: Fite me


Synopsis...

Maudlyn grew up denied her mother but for a couple score of months.
Her father trained her rigorous, to serve his purpose they surely must.
For every time she closed her eyes... she earned a scar to remember it by!
Her life did spiral on and on, into this fateful dreaded song~

Theme
||-Roleplay Profile- (http://www.nwnravenloft.com/forum/index.php?topic=37963.msg562407#msg562407)||[/spoiler]
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Song of Danta on May 24, 2017, 10:11:06 AM
Eleanor joins the gang.

(http://i.imgur.com/cm5UD3B.png) (https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B1hZst59EbhTMEtxU0pqVUZhZW8/view?usp=sharing)

Name: Eleanor Holmwood.
Race: Human.
Origin: Born in Bradhurst House, an estate of the Holmwood family near Waterford in Mordent.
Age: 26
Build: Tall and gaunt.
Eyes: Olive green.
Hair: Waist-length, hay-colored. Always fastened into bunches.
Complexion: Fair.
Skills: Game hunting, guitar, cosmetics.
Occupation: Perfumer.
Known Languages: Mordentish.
Traits: Neurotic, gregarious, modest, shrewd, creative.
RP Themes: Mental illness, religion, exploration (discovery of reagents), high society.
Frequent Haunts: The Blooming Rose, Avenue du Progrès, her hotel room.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Erich von Stroheim on June 08, 2017, 09:32:32 PM
((My english is bad, so sorry if i destory a bit the language of Shakespear))

Portraits of Guthewulf:

(https://img4.hostingpics.net/pics/234684GuthewulfSauna01.jpg) (https://www.hostingpics.net/viewer.php?id=234684GuthewulfSauna01.jpg)

... hum, while he finish his Sauna, let me tell you his Biographie:

Guthewulf is born in Kuldahar, the little haven in the Frozen Toundra known as the Spine of the

world. He was quickly sent to Easthaven, in the church of Tempus to learn how to control his

anger. Though at the first occation he flew the Temple, and toke the boat to Luskan were he

became the Leader of a small band of thug. Later his skill in combats attrackt many other

people allow him to build his first band of Mercenary called The Broken Blades. With them he

could join many millitary campaing, sometime promoting good, sometime promoting Evil. Though in

any case he always get paid.

He soon get married and had two childrens. He wanted them to walk in his path and in a

mysterious event his two sons got killed with their mother. The sadness for his lost made him

lose hope, and completly ruined him. He became alcoholic and lost his Band. Now a beggar, he

travel from town to town with only his bottle of wine as friend. Until his feet bring him back

in the Temple of Tempus in Easthaven were the monks toke him under their wings and cleaned him

from his torment. He soon became a respected Priest of Tempus, and participate in many

battlefield to glorifie the Name of The God of War.

Personality: Guthewulf respect nothing. For him all is conflict. From the day the Baby is born

and make his first scream, it is the start of the "Struggle to SURVIVE" to the death. Knowing

that, his way of life is all codes. From the code of answer a greeting, to the complex codes of

tactics on the battlefield. Guthewulf follow them all. It is, for him, the base of

Civilitation.

Faith: His faith toward Tempus is total. For him Tempus is not just a diety that offer him

Divine powers. But his teaching, in the eyes of Guthewulf, is the best Code of life a Mortal

could follow. So despite he know that in the Core, his bound with Tempus is broken. He dont

lose his love toward the God of War of Toril.

Like:

Straight persons.
People who can show their gratitude toward someone who help them.
Prowess in combat toward someone stronger.
Sauna/warm bathes.
Discovering new foods.
Team work.
Generosity.
Show mercy on enemies when they wield.
And that all conflicts must have peace as a final Goal.
Nature, he could became a good druid, if he wasnt so quick to anger.

Dislike:

All the opposite of what he like.

I think he is done with his sauna now. . . So his protraits ^^':

(https://img4.hostingpics.net/pics/823996GuthewulfWalk.jpg) (https://www.hostingpics.net/viewer.php?id=823996GuthewulfWalk.jpg)
 
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Shadowlancer on June 26, 2017, 11:14:38 AM
(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/dd/fe/e1/ddfee1125eceb2c86e5bd60ccc1b1ed9.jpg)

Name: Fenya Nianne (fenn-ya nee-ahn)
Race: Star Elf
Age: 126
Height: 5’5”
Weight: 95 lbs
Complextion: Slightly tanned from travel, freckles across her nose and cheek bones.
Hair Color: Reddish Brown
Eye Color: Bright Green
Personality: Optimistic, annoyingly so.

General appearance: She can usually be spotted in her violet / red / multicolor performance leathers, with for her, double as her combat armor. She carries with her a small shield and longsword, as well as a longbow, which she uses more than the former. She also possesses a common tunic and pants, as well as a fancy dress for special occasions.

Brief History: Fenya may be optimistic, looking always to the light, and simply existing to make others happier. However, her Bardic training is much different. Hailing from the Yuirwood, Fenya was classically trained as a Dirge for her people, among Star Elf culture, an important role. She was to be the one whose songs and reveries would help aid the passage of the dead into the next life, as well as the mourning and healing process for the ones the dead left behind. 

But her heart yearned for elsewhere, and while still a young elf, she set out to the city of Neverwinter, quickly making friends and allies along the way, and through her performance and optimism she became the court jester to the Nobles and King. And for a while, life was very good for her. But her sense of wanderlust could not be sated, and soon enough she set off once again, this time going back to the East to visit her family, and then proceed further east to investigate the rumors of barbarian tribes of humans, and try to join one. Because why not? All the while, she prayed to Selune for new roads to explore, and new experiences to feel.

However, she had barely started down the cold road to Peltarch when the mists gathered about her form, and she was not seen on Faerun again.

Now in Barovia, she cannot say she didn’t get when she asked for from Selune...
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Silas Rotleaf on August 29, 2017, 07:24:50 PM
Character name: Berek Sigers.
Race: Human.
Background setting: Planescape.
Class: Druid.
Package: Gray Druid.
Moral Alignment: Neutral Good.
Highest saving throws?: Will and Wisdom.
Languages known: Druidic and Common.

Bio:
Berek hails from Sigil - The City of Doors.  A one-way portal flung him into Barovia and he is trying to make sense of it all, doing his best to adjust and  make a new life in this bleak and twisted landscape. He has a female bear named Shra he can summon/call.
Sigil does have a few druids but as the area is highly metropolitan they concern themselves more with the state of parks and urban ecology (sewers and caves, humanoid settlements, trade areas) as there aren't proper forests. There is a desert in the Outlands around Curst but he'd spent a good portion of his life up to the point he got sent to Barovia studying under the closest thing to an archdruid the City of Doors has, an individual highly attuned to plants by the name of Mourns-For-Trees.
Berek has a lot to learn about Vallaki's factions and tends to get by on a combination of charity from strangers plus his own subsistence.

Appearance: He has long blonde hair and tends to wear a combination of wood armor and furs.  There are tattoos up and down his body below his neck on both arms, his chest, back and legs. Do they have some sort of meaning behind them? That's possible; Would it help out any in the Demi-plane of Dread though? Doubtful.

Motivations: Berek has noticed while trying to map the areas surrounding and in Vallaki town that there appear to be some remains of what might be druid circles. He has asked the few  other druids and rangers if there is a circle and so far the best answer he has received is "once but no longer."  The land might benefit from one, or at the very least organized  hunting parties to somewhat cull down the overpopulation of were-creatures at night.   He also feels some degree of sympathy for the plight of the underclass and the outcasts living in the sewers. In knowing and coming to learn that the surfacers aren't typically going to go down there and risk their necks to provide much needed services, Berek has decided tending to this often maligned and shunned group might make for the greatest good.

Fears: Aside from losing Shra Berek fears not having any friends. Communities function best when no man is an island, after all.

Preferred weapons: spear, scimitar, club (melee).
Darts (ranged).

Favorite spells: Grease, Thunderstroke and Cure light wounds.
========================
Character name: Kaine Morris
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Age: 21
Alignment: Neutral good.
Origin Setting: Eberron.
Class: Fighter
Favored weapon: Bastard sword.
Occupation: Formerly: Lieutenant in the Brelish army.  Current: Porter and hired sword.
Religion: Eberronese pantheon.
Languages known: Common and Balok.
Highest save: Fortitude.
Background: Kaine is the son of Sharn merchants and went to a prestigious military academy. He is not a terribly experienced fighter but is at the least proficient in basic use of most weapons and starting to come along in his swordsmanship.  The Last War was already over when he graduated. He and his men in the 67th battalion were assigned by Brelend's Ir'Clan (king) the task of routing lizard men at the border of a new settlement so colonists could claim the nearby fertile swampland they intended to repurpose for growing crops. That was when the accursed fog rolled in separating him from his men and Kaine got misted away to Barovia. Shortly after that he ran into Lady Alina d'Dennith who explained to him what she could of the situation and kindly quartered and clad him in new armor. Kaine seeks to become a great swordsman and hopes to do right by his blade.

Motivations: Kaine wants to impress the ladies and to do the right thing.
Fears: That everyone will come to hate him.

Personality: Kind and a bit reckless. He possesses a sense of humor the Barovians may at times have a hard time grasping.

Character name: Bulir Dotian (NCE).
Gender: Male. Race: Gold Dwarf (FR setting).
Age: 50.
Alignment: LG.
Class: Paladin.
Religion: Clangeddin.
Favorite spell: Bless weapon.
Motivations: Glory. Wealth is always good too.
Fears: Being broke.
Languages known: Common and Dwarven.
Bio: You know the drill, following the thunder blessing of the All-father the number of gold dwarves has increased causing crowding in the Great Rift which means you go on a rite of passage going about doing deeds to amass fortune and fame to build your family name but we're not like those dirty shield dwarves or devious duergar. Into his fifth decade of adventuring Bulir got misted.

Personality: Usually rather friendly but gets offended when tall folk can't tell the difference between male and female dwarves or ignorantly assume they eat rocks.
"If'n we did that, we'd break our teeth! It's absurd is what it is!"






Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Czernovog on September 14, 2017, 01:20:19 PM
Character name: Dryjka Pietrovich
Race: Human.
Background setting: Other (Lowgarynn)
Class: Fighter
Style: Sword and Board
Moral Alignment: Chaotic Good.
Highest saving throws?: Fortitude.
Languages known: Common.

Bio: Dryjka remembers little of his time before the mists took him. He remembers some faces; emotions tied to ideas; the name of his wife, Kasia, and that somewhere along the line everything that mattered to him was swallowed up by a never ending ride of mindless dead and the greater deathless that drove it. Vallaki and Old Barovia have seemed familiar to him the way that two homes built by the same architect seem to be eerily not-quite-the-same: he suspects that whatever his homeland was like, this place of mist and murder is a none-too-distant relative.
These memories escape him now, although they seem to trickle back in scraps and shreds; due either to some fell magic of the one who took him, or the hoof-shaped dent in his skull that he is reasonably certain was NOT there before his taking, Dryjka strives to put his mind together once more, grappling for sanity and wholeness that he feels has not been his for a long, long time. The dead took his wife, possibly his children, and the only thing that counterbalances the furious need for vengeance is Kasia’s vice, speaking from the heavens.
He’s good with a hammer, good with a shield, and armor seems to sit upon him like a second skin. Dryjka is a man seemingly built for war… but war on what?
The dead call to him, and the clatter of their shattered bones littering the stone of the crypt beneath the Sanctuary is the sweetest song. The rest will sort itself out.
.

Appearance: Dryjka is a hulking barrel of a man, built like a thick-middled oak complete with its fiery-red autumn foliage. His face is a brutish, unpretty legacy of nose-breaking, feature-smashing combat, lined deeply by weather and scarring alike, but his smile is a pleasant thing below glacier-blue eyes that twinkle when he laughs. He stands just over six feet and two inches, easily approaching two hundred sixty pounds of muscle and meat that, while never attractively shaped, has long been a study of practical power and endurance earned in the tradecraft of battle.

Motivations: Dryjka has three driving forces in life at this point: First, he seeks to mend his fractured mind and stricken memories; Second, he seeks out battle with the undead scourge whenever and wherever it can be found; Third he searches for a place of belonging, both physically and socially, for he is an old dog whose family is lost to time and mist. He seeks to name the god of his faith, or failing to rediscover that, lend that faith to a god whose purpose is parallel. Dryjka has a paternal streak that stretches a league in breadth: the young and beloved, his friends and comrades, all are given shelter by the bulwark of his shield and broad shoulders.

Fears: Undeath (but not the Undead themselves), the wrath of his wife, the attentions of women (see fear number two).
Idiosyncrasies: Dryjka can be best described as an eccentric man, possibly unhinged by his taking or some trauma earlier in life. He occasionally carries on conversations with his wife, Kasia, who has been dead for some few years (all available evidence points to it), and has colorful ideas about reality and the ways of the world. How much of his oddness is due to actual insanity, as opposed to being an internal jest or facade, remains a topic of some debate.

Preferred weapons: Warhammer, Bow

Favorite food: Bacon. Also his favorite smell, color, and sport.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Barovian Beggar on October 24, 2017, 09:39:53 PM
NCE 2017
Milován Drózda


(https://i.imgur.com/HpCFO3R.png)

Description:   
A rural hunter dressed in the muted colors of the Barovian landscape, Rough cured leathers and furs, functional but well worn.
He is a lean swarthy man of mixed descent. His lithe physique moves with a grace more characteristic of a dancer or acrobat than that of a woodsman. 

His dark features are sharp and angular, reminiscent of a hawk or some other such bird of prey.

The tools of his trade, his bow, knife and hatchet are well cared for and strategically worn about his person for quick access.
There is no customary pleasantry or kindness to his personality. The cruel melancholy lands of the Core beat that out of him long ago.

Origin:
A romantic liaison between a charismatic Gundarakite outlaw and a wayward vistana, Milovan was born from two worlds but never truly accepted into either. He is a half-breed, always the outsider.

Milovan remembers very little from his childhood, as brief as it was. He recalls a few precious memories; his father’s jovial laughter and his mother’s haunting lullabies.

His father was hung by soldiers when he was barely five years old, this he clearly remembers. His mother, unable or unwilling to bare the grief and the burdens of parenthood left her illegitimate child on the door step of an orphanage in Krezk, never to be seen again. 
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: ASymphony on November 15, 2017, 08:52:38 AM
Name: Ailne Niven
Race: Human
Origin: Touraine in Nidala (Shadowlands)
Age: 23
Build: Strong and agile, tending more to the former
Eyes: Ice-Blue
Hair: Stark blonde
Personality: Serious, loyal, mission-focused
Biography: Ailne was born in Touraine and like many children, grew up near worshipping the Knight-Protector of Nidala, Elena Faith-hold, believing her to be the heroine she once had been. As such, she joined Elenas troops when she was sixteen, training as a ranger.

She came to regret this decision in time, when she started to realize what her hero had become and what her service entailed. Memories of the punishments she helped carry out haunt her to this day. This was finally what motivated her to flee Nidala, disillusioned and aimless.

From this point on she travelled the core, seeking something, even if she was unsure what it was for the longest time.

After a certain set of dramatic events of Vallaki, it appears Ailne has finally find her purpose. To fight on against the darkness, to make what little difference she can.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Silas Rotleaf on December 23, 2017, 08:01:28 AM
Name: Gias Blake
Gender: Male
Race: Half Elf (star elf)
Place of Origin: Aglarond on Faerun, Toril.
Age: 70
Class: Barbarian
Alignment: Chaotic Good.
Highest saving throw: Fortitude I guess.
Weapons: Heavy crossbow, Battle Axe, Club.
Likes: Hunting.
Dislikes: He gets slightly annoyed when people tell him he is a bad archer for using a crossbow. His perception isnt very good since losing an eye (see below) so he just guesses how far away things are in an attempt to compensate.

Appearance: Too sturdy to be an elf but still has the pointed ears one associates with fey folk though they are not as long as a full elf's.
He is missing his left eye and wears an eyepatch. Gias has ruddy orange-reddish hair and stubble.
Languages: Common and Elven.
Background: Gias knows Tinu Naur a little from 50 years ago when they were friends but that is about it. He got chased by Nilshae aberrations through the mists and ended up in Barovia. She was still distraught over what became of her fiancé and gave him some mithral armor in passing.
He does not know anybody in this land and laughs off the racism of the Garda and locals.
Gias hates aberrations. His rage got out of control while under the effects of a psionic attack by one 45 years ago causing him to temporarily lose his sanity, going so far as to rip his own eye out.
Gias isn't too crazy about undead either, considering them very unnatural.

Motivations: For now just figuring out what this whole place is about, finding a way to make some money and not dying a whole lot.


Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Silas Rotleaf on April 07, 2018, 11:54:02 AM
Character name: Aigos Quoa
Origin: Hazlan, Ravenloft.
Gender: Male.
Race: Half Vistani (Vatraska clan, mother's side & Mulan on Father's side).
Alignment: Lawful neutral.
Class: Wizard (transmuter).
Age: 30.
Religion: Lawgiver.
Hair color: Red but he shaves it (like most Hazlani, he ascribes to the "bald and tattooed is beautiful" aesthetic).
Distinguishing physical characteristics: Wears a set of gold rimmed glasses. Has bright scarlet and deep crimson tattoos along his body.

Goals: Make some friends, become a more powerful mage, possibly find/make a place for himself in the world. Also, he wants to be an exceptional physician.
Flaws: > Agios has an inferiority complex. It really bothered him to learn while coming of age he was not in fact a pure blooded Mulan. He worries that because he is of mixed stock that he will lag behind his other wizarding colleagues who are full Mulan or worst of all, at night that maybe he is an incompetent wizard perhaps yes due to being a miscegenated mongrel.
> Lawgiver faith gives out conflicting messages to Agios. On the one hand he believes hard work and being duty bound is the best way to be. On the other there's that whole racial caste ingrained societal thing even right there reinforced in the religion itself which leaves him to wonder about if he will go to Iron Slave Hell for the blasphemy of the choices his parents made regarding his upbringing and birth.

Personality: Agios is wary of betrayal but also patient. After-all, he feels the Iron Lord will provide accordingly so of course if you work diligently it should pay off.  You'll have to determine if he hates everybody around him or is just guardedly cautious in his interactions.

> Family man: Agios is happily married to Shanaz. He cares about his father, his in-laws and the plantation workers, too!
> Respect the law: As a traveling doctor, the first thing Agios does when arriving in a new destination where he will spend any prolonged length of time is to familiarize himself with customs and the law of the land.
> Country boy: He respects his King and even if you dislike the Hazlani empire likes to point out that not *every* citizen is a mad wizard, kidnapping thug or horrible tyrant. Cities do throw him a little and he will feel star struck when in the Hazlan capital of Ramulai.
> Bedside manner: He makes house calls and Agios will also even just casually inquire if you are feeling sick even if you aren't one of his patients.

Bio: I am the son of House Quoa. My father said duty above all. I... Never really got to know my mother. Of course I seem a touch exotic... It so happens she was a Vistani.

I am not a slaver, you fool! I'm a doctor!
Did you somehow fail to see my little black bag, healing kits and stock of health draughts? Nono, I'm not an optometrist...


Themes: 1. knowledge is power, it is what you do with it that should be used to evaluate whether a person is good or evil.
2. Resources are to be exploited optimally. Relationships too are a resource so to underplay the value of this social currency would be to squander an ever so useful resource.
3. The Demi-plane is a terrible but also terribly curious realm and he intends to explore and understand as much of it as he can.
4. Disease is Mytteri. It is chaos that sickens, alters and distorts people in bad (but physically quantifiable and capable of being observed) ways. As a Lawgiver physician, imposing medical order on the Mytteri of disease is of highest duty, perhaps even a prime directive for him!
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: basedSHARK on June 07, 2018, 03:06:29 PM
[Edited: Made a separate Bio post, Mods feel free to delete this!]
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Barovian Beggar on June 11, 2018, 03:36:04 PM
NCE 2017
Milován Drózda


(https://i.imgur.com/HpCFO3R.png)

Description:   
A rural hunter dressed in the muted colors of the Barovian landscape, Rough cured leathers and furs, functional but well worn.
He is a lean swarthy man of mixed descent. His lithe physique moves with a grace more characteristic of a dancer or acrobat than that of a woodsman. 

His dark features are sharp and angular, reminiscent of a hawk or some other such bird of prey.

The tools of his trade, his bow, knife and hatchet are well cared for and strategically worn about his person for quick access.
There is no customary pleasantry or kindness to his personality. The cruel melancholy lands of the Core beat that out of him long ago.

Origin:
A romantic liaison between a charismatic Gundarakite outlaw and a wayward vistana, Milovan was born from two worlds but never truly accepted into either. He is a half-breed, always the outsider.

Milovan remembers very little from his childhood, as brief as it was. He recalls a few precious memories; his father’s jovial laughter and his mother’s haunting lullabies.

His father was hung by soldiers when he was barely five years old, this he clearly remembers. His mother, unable or unwilling to bare the grief and the burdens of parenthood left her illegitimate child on the door step of an orphanage in Krezk, never to be seen again.

Rerun. NCE 2018
Title: Gwynnestri Barrias-Nymai'hel ~ Foqalsuor ~ Thaesumil en'Maskaulatnee
Post by: Twackalope on June 21, 2018, 01:52:08 PM
(https://image.ibb.co/hoKnPo/Gweyr.jpg) (https://imgbb.com/)
In Game Portrait Used

                    ~|Basics|~

Name: Gwynnestri Barrias-Nymai'hel
* Nickname: Gwynn, Gweyr, Gweyr Nym
Origin: Forgotten Realms Setting
* Faerun
* Evereska [Fortress-City], a.k.a. The Last City, Last Home
* Western Heartlands, bordering the Anauroch Desert  
Through the Mists: Greycloak Mountains
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Class: Cleric
* Title: Foqalsuor [Shield-Priest(ess)]
* Rank: Thaesumil [Promised Youth][Levels 1-2]
* Weapon: Longbow
Deity: Vandria Gilmadrith
* Lawful Neutral
* Allegiance: Seldarine
* Parentage: Corellon Larethian, Araushnee [Pre-Fall Lolth]
* Domains: Law, Protection, War
* Portfolio: War, Guardianship, Justice, Grief, Vigilance, Decisions
* Epithets: Maskaulatnee [Steelheart], Aheletriel [The Lady of Grief]
* Worship: Elves, Uncommon Due to Lawful Alignment [Elves are Usually Chaotic in Nature]
* Favored Weapon: Longbow
* Holy Symbol: A Black Weeping Eye upon a Blood Red Shield
* Clergy: War-priests dedicated to protection of the Elven race through use of tactics and strategy; their goal is to prevent war entirely but to take up arms when war is inevitable and assist their charges in forming a unified force against the threat in order to eliminate it. They serve by advising leaders in battle strategy, forming alliances through diplomacy, fighting in the thick of battle, training their charges in arms, leading sorties, and caring for the dead who are slain in battle. Though they have no access to the Death Domain one of the main functions of a Foqalsuor is as a kind of Death Priest: they oversee the end of their charges who cannot be saved by healing magics much like a death doula might. After battle they collect the dead, not just of their own kind, but all who have fallen to violence; the dead are then cleansed and buried. They are counsellors to those wracked by grief, even if the supplicant is not a warrior. They also oversee rituals of oath-givings, contracts, and formal alliances; as such, while less welcome than a cleric of Hanali Celanil, they can also preside over marriage contracts, though they are thought of as too grim and stiff for such affairs. The core of their faith is Protection, especially during times of War, that is why most take the name of Foqalsuor, or Shield-Priest.

                    ~|Visible At a Glance|~

Gender: Female
* Faintly Androgynous
* Small-Busted
* Boyish Hipped
Race: Elven
Eyes: Golden
* Almond-Shaped
*A Tad Overly-Large
Hair: Vibrant Golden Blonde
* Notable Markings: Streak of White at Right Temple
* Cut: Short & Wavy
* Worn: Loose about the Shoulders
Skin: Bronzed
* Scars: Faint on Hands and Arms
* Tattoos: None Visible
Height: 5’10’’ [177.5 CM]
* Build: Very Lean
* Weight: Approximately 100 Lbs [45.36 KG]
* Posture: Upright & Straight as a Pin

                    ~|On Further Inspection|~

Race Explored: Ar-Tel’Quessir
* Sun Elf, a.k.a. Gold Elf of Forgotten Realms / Faerun
* Commonality in the Realms: Uncommon
Visage: Comely
* Triangular in Shape
* Pointed Chin
* Aquiline Jaw
* Usual Expression: Serious & Observant
Scent: Fresh & Clean
* Undertones of Citrus
Voice: Pleasantly Polite
* Mode: Low-Alto
* Accent: Evereska Elven, Western Heartlands of Faerun
* Commonality in the Realms: Common
Movement: Efficient
* Cautious
* Clipped Pace
Worn Adornments: Holy Symbol
* Type: Earring
* Location: Right Ear
* Form: A Small Red-Enameled Shield with a Black Weeping Eye upon it
* Commonality in the Realms: Rare
* Other Notable Qualities: Elvish Workmanship & Design

                    ~|Other Notables|~

Family:
* Father: Nyvorlas Barrias-Nymai'hel - Cleric of Vandria Gilmadreth
* Mother: Shi'larra Naelgrath - Ranger of Solonor Thelandira
* Siblings: Olaurae [Brother] - Ranger of Solonor Thelandira, Lyari [Brother] - Cleric of Hanali Celanil
* Other: Ael'Cor'avar [Affectionate-Formal Name Meaning Great-Legendary-Father or Great-Grandfather] - Baelnorn Founder of the Barrias-Nymai'hel Line during the Third Crown War of the Elves, Protector of Evereska, Cleric of Vandria Gilmadrith
Languages:
* Base: Common
* Racial: Elven
* Regional Bonus: Chondathan, Illuskan, Sylvan
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Ogretime on June 27, 2018, 09:58:25 AM
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Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: H on July 01, 2018, 09:53:05 PM
Mercedes was born to relatively normal parents, though her white hair drew the townsfolk to believe that her mother was a witch. After being burned before her, she found an exhilaration in seeing death.  She had been jailed, and whipped for witchcraft as well, left in the center of town on a post to be treated as less than human. Her father had been jailed as well for months before being let go. A holy man had been willing to put his own reputation on the line.  Her father released her, and brought her and joined her mother's parents. Her grandfather was a bookkeeper, and her grandmother was a fortune teller. They were a part of a traveling gypsy troupe, going up and down the Sword Coast of Faerun.

One stormy night, the wagon had collapsed on a cliffside, sending several people tumbling down the rocks. Down below, at the base of the mountain was a graveyard for a nearby town. After tumbling down the hill, she had been impaled on one of the spikes on the fence. In the rain, she remained held aloft, bleeding, breathing only partly from her one functioning lung. The pain boiled in her mind. It boiled and boiled until the joy and ecstatic delight was the only thing remaining. She found herself laughing, instead of crying as the light faded from her eyes.
Darkness fell upon her.

When she woke up, a set of armored adventurers were muttering about whether or not to escort her back to town or to climb up the mountainside. They discussed what to do with the spoils of a routed cult, whilst deciding on leaving her be. She looked to the open crypts, and stumbled in there, nauseous and dazed from the harm she had endured. Below, she found herself surrounded by bones and bodies... Rot and fresh kills. A stray book lay on the ground, something missed by those who slew the necromancers below.

From here, she studied the tome inside and out, wandering through sewers and through back alleys... Making her way off of any kind cart-driver that would pity her. She had mastered the first circle of magics within that tome, and grew to understand the basics of magics, stealing what books she could until one night the mists took her.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Ogretime on July 20, 2018, 01:12:10 AM
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Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Mereyn on July 29, 2018, 04:16:12 PM
Spoiler: show
(http://i1240.photobucket.com/albums/gg486/Sopharn3/MichaelAbbot_zpspwiwus8q.jpg)

Michael Abbot
Race:     Aasimar, (claimed) Mordent
Sex:       Male
Skin:       Opalescent Bronze Hue
Eyes:      Shining Brilliant Topaz
Hair:       Silver
Religion: Church of Ezra, Pure Hearts

Appearance:        Michael is powerfully built, standing at least a head taller than most other men, with a gait that tempers the size in a graceful, albeit humble way.
                             His attire is most often a suit of platemail, with a long green cloak, bearing a thin white trim.
                             At other times he doffs the platemail, simply wearing the chain shirt underneath, or his priestly vestments.

Personality:        Michael appears to be a calm man, usually speaking in a low tone. He regularly finds some way to incorporate a light jest into situations, provided they aren't grim.
                            His demeanor is that of a highly inquisitve, but equally compassionate man. Altogether his reassuring presence and hospitable approach to others are traits that
                            conceal the occasional melancholy of his being. As a sign of his will, he is strongly dedicated to his faith, with an open ear to even those outside of it.

Special Features:      No second glance is required to note the gleaming orbs of brilliant topaz he has for eyes.
                                   He often dims this feature by donning a hood. Adding to that is his powerful voice which seems subdued through force in his speech,
                                   so that his intimidating presence does not fully impose upon others.

Short History:        Little is known of Michael's origin, even to him. He came from Mordent to Barovia after being nursed to health by the Pure Hearts of Mordentshire.
                               His mannerisms would certainly fit one hailing from the foggy home of the Church of Ezra's Second Sect, but whether he was born there is as misty as his first memory.
                               He has since become a Warden of the same Revelation during his stay in Barovia and wandered the Hollow in search of truth and opportunities to do what must be done.   
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Silas Rotleaf on September 08, 2018, 03:29:33 PM
Name: Cristan Keldan.
Male
35 years old but looks younger, despite facial piercings.
Race: Human.
Origin setting: Valachan, Ravenloft.
Alignment: True Neutral.
Eye color: "Bile" yellow.
Skin color: Deep caramel brown.
Hair color: Black.
Hair style: Long and straight, sort of a mullet.
Class: Cleric.
Deity: Yutow the Peacebringer.
Domains: Law and Plant.
Favorite weapon: Sickle.
Favorite spells: Barkskin, darkfire and bull's strength.
Bio: Cristan hails from the Valachani major city of Ungrad which is known for its mushroom farming. He is only an acolyte and not yet a fully fledged Moarnekone. It was during a vision quest he got misted to Barovia.
The amount of arcane magic being bandied about so readily by the outlanders who aren't core natives is... Somewhat unsettling to him but through repeated exposure again and again, time after time he is coming to at least tolerate it as being occasionally necessary though he still does not like such things. Divine magic and natural (sorcery, bardic) are less distasteful to him than wizardry.

A Valachani through and through despite being a city one he tries hard to be a manly man but also kind. He isn't as outdoorsy as the peasant farmers and woodsmen since he is of the priestly caste.

He unshakingly believes in the Valachani creation myth and Pacification event in Valachan's false history and has no reason to think otherwise. Cosmologically Cristan understands that Yutow though "dead" is neither undead nor erased. Rather, Yutow the nature God was martyred and ascended to a different form. Like all priests of Yutow Cristan holds that Yutow in this second form from the moon dreams and continues to watch over Valachani people.

Likes: People in general, women, fighting, ghost hunting and animals (except for insects and spiders which he dislikes for how they carry poisons and disease).
Dislikes: Lying gossip designed to hurt people, undead, studied arcane magic (wizardry), most types of vermin, being usually the only one of his race (let alone his own kind) ever around.
Major Themes: Loneliness, journey, romance.
Minor Themes: Companionship and fighting against the supernatural/unnatural.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Griever on November 20, 2018, 02:53:03 PM
Name: Ander Warwick
Race: Human
Sex: Male
Age: 20
Skin: Caucasian
Hair: Black
Eyes: Green
Height: 5’ 10”
Origin: Faerun
Deity: Selune

Physical Description:

A young human man with dark, rough features and athletic build lies before you.  Narrow green eyes stay vigilant
of the surroundings. Hands are rough and calloused to the touch, with dirt under the nails. Voice is grizzled and
jaded. While most of his actions show caution and vigilance, his stance and posture show a hint of honor and kindness.

Backstory:

                I lived my life majorly in the forests between Daggerford and Secomber, across the river from 
        Waterdeep. My father and mother…. Supported us by hunting animals, skinning and tanning hides, smoking 
        the meat and selling what we didn’t need to the cities that surrounded us. Father made quality items,
        gained a bit of renown with some of the nobles in waterdeep. Because of that, we lived fairly comfortable
        lives, even though it was outside the cities.
           Ever since I was young, my father would take me out with him and teach me how to hunt, track,
        pick out details, trap, and everything else he could. Everything he used to take care of my mother and I.
        As I got older, he began to teach me how to fight, a little with the bow, but mostly with blades, sparring
        would soon become a daily routine. At first I saw it as a game, which is why I had enjoyed and
        kept dedicated to the training. I saw how he made my mother smile, made me want to be like him, to be
        the type of person that would make others happy and had their respect.
           We always had the same routine when we took the stock to the other cities. Start at Daggerford for a
        day, stay in Waterdeep for about four days and then Secomber for another day. Once I became 16, he’d
        have me take care of Secomber on my own. Said it I needed to learn how to take care of things on my own.
        I thought it was just so he could have some time with mother alone, I didn’t mind though. I even started
        staying an extra couple days, partially to give them more time, partially cause I made some friends of my own.
           Eventually I got my own little cabin in the woods right next to Secomber. I still visited my parents each
        month, just to check in. Somehow he always knew when I’d show up though, cause he’d sneak up on me
        every time. Guess he wanted to keep me sharp. One visit though… would be the most unexpected event, that
        I could have never imagined.
           Shortly after I was 20, I went to visit, like I normally would, but what I found was a horrific sight. I got
        there late, right after dusk. The animals were silent and the smell of Iron was in the air. I knew something was
        wrong, so I rushed in… nothing could have prepared me for what was before me. My mother and father,
        feeding upon each other. Their eyes white and almost lustful expressions upon their faces. Before I could get a
        grasp on what I was witnessing, their attention turned to me as they lunged. With no time to think, I just acted…
        before I knew it, they were lifeless on the floor.
           I just stood there, blood covering me. My mind, blank, I just started walking into the woods. The mist
        came a surrounded me, before I could begin to comprehend what had happened, I was gone. Emerging in an
        unfamiliar world….
Title: Vivenius Bio
Post by: Mykal on May 14, 2019, 02:26:05 AM
Vivenius Petrach basic bio

Vivenius Petrach is from Waterdeep..well, not really.  However, anyone who matters is from Waterdeep.  His mother taught him that.  His mother taught him many things, learned from many years as a single mother, while running her rather successful merchantile business.  Vivenius' father died when he was young of blood poisoning, however he held his mother back more than did not.  Known as the "Harpy" she was as cutthroat as a wealthy merchant can be.  However, she realized early Vivenius was not meant for that world, so she groomed him with other plans in mind.  Having him trained intensely, in the courtly skills of music and being friends with those on the rise, she positioned him early on with his wealthy cousin in Waterdeep. 
     Vivenius learned quickly how to make friends, it was easy really.  Just like his mother, you need to have what others need.  You need to be friends with the people that others need to be friends with, or at least appear to be.  Even in his youth, he was the one to organize a hunting party, or bring together young nobles for some mischief.  As an adult, he found position with a wealthy patron in Waterdeep, a man indebted to his uncle.  This gave Vivenius access to the upper courts, the powerful.  Much like his mother, he would "broker" friendships, inspire couplings and make the introductions.
     From all this you may get the impression Vivenius is a conniver, a grifter or a man with schemes.  However, nothing could be further from the truth.  He found his place, in his attempts to impress his mother, but there is little malice in his soul.  The truth was, he actually enjoyed making friends, helping people make connection and being a part of the greater cog that turned the world.  If he profited from his social place, fine...but often he would act against his own better judgment to help out a person in need.  It seems he was poorly cut out for courtly politics either, but he never lacked for friends.  It did not hurt that he deeply loved this studies as well, particularly music and history.
      What inspired the mist to claim him, he will never know.  Like all things in his life, he is not going to waste time marvelling at his strange surroundings or mewing at the sky as a frightened cat.  There are people here, so there are friends here.  If he has learned anything from his mother, a man might have good reason to fear, but an organized collection of people need fear nothing.   He will get his bearings, find his place do his part to get this cog turning.
     Though his bravado would be more convincing to him, if there was not some strange sound hidden in the wind...and a chill on his spine as though something that cares little for ones friends was near.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Anya on May 31, 2019, 12:38:33 PM
Character name: Valra
Origin: Neverwinter (Faerun)
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Class: Sorcerer
Age: 24
Deity: Chauntea
Languages: Common, Draconic (still learning)

Physical description: Quite tall (182cm) young woman with short, dark hair and grey, deep eyes. Dark circles under eyes. There's nothing really unusual in her, would blend perfectly within a big crowd of people. She dresses simply in neutral colors, almost no jewelry.

Personality: While being a free spirit deep down, she knows the value of hard and honest work - and also the value of escaping duries that, in her mind, are not making things better. She's often brash, loud and acts before she thinks. She likes to pretend that she knows more than she actually does, and she doesn't like being seen as weak or overly emotional. She loves having people around, especially those who are up for any kind of mischief.

Biography: Raised in the local orphanage, she was always a troublemaker, but one of those who are always seeing the bright side of life and are pretty fun to have around. After her talent for magic awoke, she was given to one of wizards of Neverwinter to study and polish her skills, though in the end she ended up being more of a maid than a student (what she greatly regrets now).
She suffers from nightmares and dreams of unknown origin (most of them being of pale looking humanoids) since magic awoke within her.

Goals: Learn more about her nightmares, become more and more powerful, find her own place in the world

Additional info: magic blood of hers comes from unseelie, her biggest fears are being drowned and moths
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: HunterMonster on May 31, 2019, 07:55:58 PM

Name: Jaoven Bedca
Gender: Male
Eye color: black
Hair color: black
Race: Half-Vistani, Verbreker
Place of Origin: Verbrek
Age: 25
Class: fighter
Alignment: True neutral
Highest saving throw: Reflex, will and fort second equals
Weapons: Heavy crossbow, Handaxe, spear, anything really
Likes: Hunting. Killing wolves. Killing monsters.
Dislikes: lycans. Monsters. Monster lovers. The Wolf God. People who don’t take his warnings seriously. Useless people.

Appearance: Olive skin and dark black hair, his facial features make him look like a Vistani. But he is actually half Vistani. Not that most people not Vistani could tell the difference. But he dresses and speaks like a Verbreker.

Languages: Common, Mordentish. Balok

Background: Taken in as a baby by an older Verbreker couple who felt a son, even a foundling one, would be useful in survival in Verbrek he was raised as one of their own amongst two sisters and four brothers. He learned to fear the night as it was the hour of the wolf, and for many years Jaoven feared the wolves and lycans of Verbrek, yet inside he felt hate for being so afraid and when he could he would also take a shot at a wolf during the day; as a way of spitting the werewolves and their kind.

He learned the ways of a militia man, and joined the local village militia as a young man. He felt proud to be protecting his family and community; but always checking the locks of home at night.

Despite it all he felt often an outcast. Though he was welcomed by his community, his moon madness often made him stand out as a possible risk and more then once he had to be kept locked in his room during his more violent episodes. Though he was not a werewolf, he felt cursed and tainted and grew to hate the full moon more then normal.

Despite it all Jaoven felt happy, but happiness does not last long in Verbrek. Perhaps bad luck, or his random killing of wolves finally brought down the werewolves wrath. First his mother vanished in the night one day. Then the next a trio of werewolves assaulted his families farmhouse, and slaughtered everyone. All but Jaoven, who had hid in a secret hope in the wall; clutching a semi silver amulet and making the gesture to ward off evil and lycans. But all the while he could only watch as his family was torn apart and eaten before his eyes. And the feral eyes of a werewolf as it stared at him through the small crack he peeked out of before leaving him alone amongst the torn remains of his family.

After that, Filled with regret; as he blamed himself and anger for doing nothing but hiding, he left Verbrek. And vowed never to return till he could become the predator.

Motivations:Revenge on the werewolves who killed his family; especially the alpha a grey furred one. Then he wants to kill every last wolf and werewolf in the land of Verbrek and beyond. He won’t rest till every Lucan is dead. He has also learned that other monsters exist in the world and while he will kill them if he can and must, his main goal above all is werewolves.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Eien on June 08, 2019, 05:57:15 PM
Character name: Eien Tir'Grein
Origin: Waterdeep (Faerun)
Gender: Male
Race: Moon Elf
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Class: Fighter
Age: 148
Deity: Ilmater (he is not very religious but he mostly prefers Ilmater)
Languages: Common, Elven

Physical description: Definately tall (186cm) and muscled for his race, he has several scars on his hands and a deep one on his neck. Dark hair, pale skin and deep blue eyes, his expression is often neutral and lost. He likes wearing dark clothing, for strategic purposes, generally dislikes wearing anything fancy.

Personality: Eien tries his best to cope with some tragic events that happened in his life, he was once a cheerful young elf, now he is mostly calm, thoughtful and sometimes saddened. His recent past as a fighter helps him coping with stress and danger, he is responsible not only for himself and for others he cares about, sometimes more for others than himself. He despises criminals and cruelty, even the tragedy in his life was not enough to shatter his belief that a better society can be built through order, even if he had a more positive point of view when younger.

Biography: Eien was raised in an unusual elven family in Waterdeep, no one really cared about traditions and heritage, his father mostly seemed worried about money. His family had a small house in Waterdeep but moved to a farm when he was very young, he spent most of his life as a farmer helping his relatives. One day some thugs arrived at the farm claiming that his father owed a local moneylender an insane amount of gold, Eien understood that his father was so worried about money because he asked for it to the wrong people and lived paying his debts. That life ended that day, everybody died, even Lindel his bethrothed was murdered by the thugs. When somebody arrived at the farm he was the only one able to recover, they all said it was some kind of miracle or just luck. For him it was a curse, he lost everything and would have rather died that die, he attempted suicide many times but could not find enough will to do it. He joined the city guard and had military training, for a time dealing with criminals, catching them, punishing them, was a good relief to his sadness and hatred, but he decided to leave the guards after a few years after it became impossible for him to keep his role without accepting bribes and stay silent about it. Than he started working as bodyguard for a magic items merchant named Brevil, and he did that for a good pay for a few years, until the mists took him.

Goals: Survive, protect the people he cares about and grow stronger to do that, get over his past.

Additional info: He is a quick and agile fighter, his favorite weapons are his twin shortswords.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Endelyon on July 23, 2019, 09:26:14 PM
Chloe Kross


(https://i.imgur.com/8ALZFh5.png)

Race: Half Elven
Height: Five feet
Weight: 105 lbs
Age: Seventeen
Background: Bardic College
Favorite Food: Sweets
Favorite Music: Anything coming from a violin
Favorite Leisure Activity: Songwriting or storytelling
Blood Type: AB+
Place of Birth: Baldur's Gate (Faerun, Forgotten Realms)
Previous Occupation: Street Urchin

Family: William Kross - Human Father, 35 (alive) | Silias Ry'ena - Elven Mother, 139 (deceased)


Basic Background:

- ҉ - Chloe was born in Baldur's Gate to a prominent duo in the Flaming Fist. She was well loved in her childhood up until her parents ran afoul of a group of anarchists calling themselves the Virtuous Soil. William became obsessed with finding the Soil and rooting them out as violently as possible. He began drinking heavily, the formerly doting father descending into depravity over the next several years. At some point during this period Chloe's mother was killed, though the circumstances that led to it remain unclear, even to Chloe herself. In the long run, William was discharged from the Flaming Fist, stripped of his rank and position and humiliated among his peers.

- ҉ - William used whatever clout and money he had remaining to send Chloe to Waterdeep to study at the House of Song. While his motivation was simple greed--his intent capitalizing on Chloe's innate talent with song and bardic magic--Chloe herself initially found the college to be a warm escape from her miserable and abusive home life. Every week she spent at the college was a week her father didn't beat her. Things weren't all rainbows and sunshine at school, however, as her half-elven upbringing nature elicited some prejudice from her peers. One girl her age was willing to talk to her though, a girl named Lily, and the two became fast and inseparable friends.

- ҉ - When Chloe was on the cusp of womanhood, her life would change forever. She'd discover that her best friend Lily of the same college had ties to the Virtuous Soil, who William had pursued so violently. Bent on vengeance for her fallen comrades, Lily followed Chloe on a trip the woman took home and went to finish the job the slain revolutionaries couldn't do: To kill William Kross.

- ҉ - Lily had meant to kill a bound and gagged William slowly, with a thousand cuts. Chloe, not knowing how to fight, managed to slay Lily in the middle of a melodramatic speech the woman was delivering to her father, caving her skull in with a candelabra. The thought of having killed someone she had grown to love to save her father, who had abused her countless times, shattered Chloe's psyche. She could not cope with this, and as a result has developed an intense paranoia and fear, often shutting herself off from others.

- ҉ - Following Lily's death, Chloe's interests in the academic arts vanished. She never returned to the House of Song, despite her father's insistence. This lead to William's most savage beating of Chloe yet, but this time the young woman fought back, stabbing him in the leg with a dagger she had begun to carry. Fearing William would kill her, Chloe fled into the night and never returned home.

- ҉ - With nowhere else to go, she lived in the Baldur's Gate sewers for a time, making due with all of Baldur's Gate's other forgotten citizens. She lived with the dock rats and she learned from them, learning to survive on her own and make her way in the world by scraping by. Over the next two years she forgot what it was like to not feel hungry, forgot the feel of a clean bed, but she had become cunning and fast. She was not the prim and proper young lady that she had been as a child--she was a woman grown, but fragile--nearly broken. When it seemed her despair would consume her fully, she found herself on the streets of the harbor one night, forced to enter a strange and foreboding mist...



---


Quote
My name is Chloe Kross. Half-Elven, for anyone wondering about my short tips, but it's not something I admit freely. I know Bards are supposed to tell other peoples' stories, but right now this is the one I feel like telling, and it just happens to be my own. I was born in Baldur's Gate. My father used to be a really famous mercenary, a member of the Flaming Fist Company. My mother loved him, though in retrospect I don't know why. My father won't talk about what happened to her, and I was so young I don't remember, but I have my guesses. He raised me on his own, if you want to call it that. I think he always resented that he didn't have a son to pass on his name. I didn't get a lot of care and affection from him, most of our quality time together was spent playing "hide-and-seek" after he had too much to drink; That's what I called it when he'd try to beat me and I'd hide from him. I got pretty good at hiding.

When I was fourteen my father stuffed some of my dresses into a bag and sent me off in a carriage to a fine arts boarding school with clear instructions; return when you are a famous bard, or not at all. Believe it or not, I didn't mind it at first. Anything that got me out of that hell-hole of a home. Met my best friend there, a sweet girl named Lily. I really loved Lily. Anyway, it's all a pretty tragic tale, but she tried to kill my father and in turn I killed her. Looking back on it, I'm not even sure why. Should've let her cut him to pieces.

Ended up living on the docks after that. It gets a bad reputation, but the other poor and desperate souls who made their home there can recognize their own, and they were kind enough to me. I was able to make a living with the odd performance in the local dives or with a bit of thievery. But as usual, life wasn't going to take a break from kicking me just because I was already down. I ended up picking the wrong pocket and found myself running from some of the less-than-friendly members of the thieves guild, I could have sworn that alley was a dead end, quite literally; but just when I rounded the corner to my expected resting place, I hit a wall of mist.

Next thing I know, I wake up a mile or so away from a strange camp full of colorful peddlers, and I learn I'm in a place called Barovia. This place terrifies me. Time and time again I've been traumatized since I arrived. A crazy vampire named Vecna drank my blood--for near a week I was almost certain I was going to turn into some kind of undead vampire freak myself, but I guess I'm alright. A handful of people have been kind to me since I was 'Misted'--that's what they call it--but only one person so far has glimpsed the full measure of the real 'me.' Feels like I'm always putting on a show for one person or another, here, but I think I can trust her. Time will tell.

One thing I know is that I'm tired of being kicked around  and I'm not going to be that scared little girl anymore. I'm going to become something that doesn't disgust me to my very core. I'm going to overcome my fear, and everything else the Mist thinks it can throw at me.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Iconoclast on August 01, 2019, 12:25:30 PM


There are spoilers within his backstory, due to a few fabrications in the story Gautier Duplat shares in game.  If you're a player, involved with his story, you might want to avoid the spoiler, but it's up to you. 

Spoiler: show
The Back History of Gautier Duplat

Gautier married in his early 20s to a woman who he knew was too good for him. She had but one condition, a steep one: no more smuggling or breaking the laws of the Republic. He was in love with her, and she made him want to become a better man, and so he kept his word, and four children soon followed, staggered only by one or two years. During that time, Duplat stayed true to his word, and worked for an “honest wage.”  The work along Widow’s Walk was backbreaking; mostly loading and unloading cargo, along with any other odd jobs. The real crime, as he saw it, was that a citizen of the so-called “Serene” Republic, no matter how much, how hard, they worked, they still couldn’t afford to make ends meet. 

With children to feed, rent and bills to pay, taxes, Gautier’s wife relented and allowed him to take work at sea, even though it would mean he could be gone for weeks, sometimes months, at a time.  She dreaded the day that she’d stand at the Widow’s Walk, grubby children in tow, eyes to the horizon, waiting for a man to come home.  What if he never came home? 

The last time she saw him, he had taken a job for an archeologist from the University.  He has yet to come home.

Gautier hadn’t planned it that way. “If you want to make the gods laugh? Make a plan!” he’d say. Gautier, with a small crew, and their aristocratic archeologist, had left upon the Sea of Sorrow, guided by a map that the University man had created himself, piecing together various accounts he had come across in his research. Treasure, buried deep within a lost tomb, upon an uncharted island within the mists.  The archeologist succeeded in finding his treasure, but he also had fallen victim to a curse. Gautier, watched in vain as the man shriveled up and died. as they sailed home.  How else could they get paid, after all?  Fearful that the man would rise up as a zombie, they performed a quick ceremony and dropped the body into the Sea of Sorrows.

The small crew agreed that they’d report that the mission failed, leaving out the part about having found the treasure.  The money, even when split evenly between the crew, was a fortune. Joseph Frogg paid them with no questions asked. Gautier’s part was more than he had made in all the last ten years combined.

The rest of the crew reported that Gautier was lost at sea, and his wife’s heart was broken. He tells himself that he’s doing it for them. His wife and kids. His goal is to buy them a house outside of the city, and to provide his wife and children all that money can buy. He dreams of retiring soon, and never having to break his back for an “honesty” coin again. He then plans to come home to his wife and children, claiming that he had been lost upon a stranded island all this time, and that he’s finally come home, rich, for he had found buried treasure while stranded.

In the meantime, under the ruse that he had taken out a sailor’s insurance policy, that pays a monthly stipend for a period of two years, he sees that all the rent, basic necessities, are taken care of, with some to add.  He sneaks into Port-a-Lucine, sometimes, in order to lay sight upon his lovely, heart-broken wife and children, just to make sure they’re provided for.

Gautier Duplat loves his wife, loves his children, and he misses them everyday, but he has had enough of trying to make a living playing by the “rules”.  He is certainly ashamed of himself, but he finds himself committed to the choice he can’t take back now, and is determined to buy that dream home for his family and one day return to open arms.

NPCs 
Wife’s name:  Evelyne Duplat
Gaston Duplat: boy, age 16
Genevieve- girl, age 15
Giselle, girl, age 13
Guy, boy, age 10

Things to note:  Gautier converted to Ezra only in order to be married in the Church, as his wife was Ezrite. He has not attended a 5th Day service since starting his adventure, but he does light a candle on nights within a chapel or cathedral, to mark the birthdays or celebrations within his family.

Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Khellendros on August 01, 2019, 05:38:11 PM
Alynia (Family surname is unknown)
6’1”
135
Thick Long Dark Red Hair held up by a leather and bone band into a ponytail
Steele Grey Eyes
Skin looks like she has a perpetual tan, even in the dead of winter.

Usually stands near people in an awkward tense pose. But, when seen in the wild around the animals she loves she is calm and relaxed.

Alynia has little memory of her life before the wilds. She knows she came from a family that at some point loved her. She vaguely remembers a large house in a small clearing of a large dark forest. What is vivid in her mind is the memory of her father flying into a rage at her mother. From her room she could hear her name, as well as the words cannot believe she isn’t mine, coming from him. She also heard the name Equaar and Vistani Devils.

After hearing a door slam, her mom came into the room in a hurry with a small pack. She dressed her in her traveling cloths and gave her the pack and told her there wasn’t time to explain.. She had made a bad mistake before she married her father and now Alynia and her had to pay. But she was giving her a chance to live.

With that she was rushed into the woods. Her Mom came to her eye level and told her to run.. Far and fast and don’t stop till she couldn’t run anymore and then to keep going. That if she returned her father and the towns people would most likely kill her. So that is what she did..

At 6 years of age she found herself alone in a forest that never seemed to end, and that she had been told to stay out of without adults to guide her. Her first day was kind of exhilarating. She had always been a bright child and found the new found freedom freeing, even if she was compelled to keep moving away from the only home she ever knew. Through the day she discovered her pack her mom had gave her had hard bread and nuts for her to eat. So hunger wasn’t an issue.

As the day wore on and night started to come, she worried about sleeping exposed. She had heard the horror stories from her fathers and his friends of the beasts that lived in the woods and how they would eat anyone who lingered there. But as night fell, she noticed a light greenish in hue coming from the undergrowth. This strange energy looked like a path and having no better way to go she followed down a game trail that led through a thick briar patch. She never would have seen this path on her own. As she walked it she looked back and noticed the glow was fading behind her.

After walking for a while , she came to a small clearing with a hill rising above the opposite side. The briars wrapped this clearing completely as well as most of the hill before her. And stood as tall as she was. In the side of the hill was a small cave, this is where the glow led to. As she approached it she heard soft mewling coming from within. Peaking inside with the help of the soft green light she saw several small pups frolicking inside. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized these were wolves.. But Something was off about them. They were already quite large for pups and small plates were growing from the fur of each one.

Behind her a low growl made her squeal and turn around. There stood the biggest wolf she had ever seen. And she had seen a few brought in by the trappers in the woods. The wolf had thick bone plates on its body and looked at her with a calm expression and soft growl. The soft glow of the forest floor rose up around the creatures head.. and the growling stopped. The giant wolf approached her and sniffed her all over deeply inhaling her scent. Then nipped the back of her tunic in her teeth gently and carried her into the caves depositing her with her young. Through all of this Alynia did not have any fear, the green light had told her everything would be fine, she was home.

Over the next few years she learned and grew alongside the wolf pups. And while she didn’t understand the wolves barks and yips she always knew what was expected and needed. Nature itself took care of all her needs often before they became an issue. She explored the woods, and made friends with animals big and small.

She eventually came to be friends with an old woman who lived in a shack deep in the woods far from the wolf den she lived in. She would venture out and meet with the lady several times a week. During her visits the old woman taught her many things. She learned to read devouring the small library the Esperalla owned. Having been a thief in the city before retiring out to the wood she was able to teach her the basics of locks and traps and how to watch for them, as well as moving as quietly as possible and hiding herself in the forest around them.

One night on her way back to the den from Esperallas a deep mist rose up hiding everything from view. When it cleared she could hear the sounds of music and laughter, the air smelled different and the very land itself seemed to rail against her when she sent her senses out to see where she if she could discern her whereabouts.

Many Years later (in game):
Since arriving in the outskirts Alynia had been through a lot. From being tormented in a cave by a demon vampire when she was newly misted, to calming the beast in the Red Wolf enough to talk to him of his brother. She had fallen in battle, and been brought back by friends, and carried her friends over mountains to get them raised by a priestess as well. Her favorite times where running as a wolf through the Sullen Wood. Hunting deer for food, stalking her prey and going in for the kill, not in a malicious way, but in a way that would celebrate the circle of life and its balance.

But, it all changed for her one day. While sitting in the outskirts a Guarda decided to beat a man for no reason on his knees. And for speaking out against this the guard tried to put her in shackles and take to the citadel. She refused to be led away and took the form of a bear.. not to fight this man, but to flee having caused no harm. Yet, moments later she was wrapped up in a fight for her life against another man who had chased her down. Unable to out run him, because of the magic he used she tried to turn and fight back. But it was no use. His power was to great, even as a bear she could not even make a scratch on his skin.

The rest is a blur, all she really remembers is the pain of his greatsword cutting deep into her hide, past all the magical protections nature could provide her.. And then nothing..

She came to, it was dark and she was in pain.. The vistani where gathered off in the distance, having their usual nightly party around the bonfire.. She could hear the music, and even make out the raised voice of someone bartering heatedly with Petre. She lay in the cool grass for a while, letting the cooling wind play over her body, and the energy of the earth beneath her flow into her to help her get moving toward the light...

She made some headway.. the pain was unbearable. But she managed to crawl and scrape just to the outside of the wagon circle... She was somewhat aware after a while of a woman fussing over her.. trying to heal her wounds, and get her up.. And then Kelraj was there trying to calm her.. a potion had her physical wounds shut in moments.. But, then her eyes fell on the swords at his sides.. The horrid memory of being cut to pieces flashed painfully across her mind, reaching out to the world around her, her panicked mind called out for help, and as usual nature answered.. In a flash her form flowed into that of a snow owl and she was gone. Soaring out of reach of those blades and their painful bite.

For weeks she lived as a bird in the wood, only coming into her own form when the power maintaining her as a bird waned and then just to take the form again, almost to the point she forgot herself.. But her human side needed to come back, her natural curiosity for the goings on of other humonaoids over rode her fear and she returned once again to the outskirts to watch the people.. But this time when she saw the abuse of the guarda she did nothing.. only sat quietly.

Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Sammylix on August 02, 2019, 11:10:36 AM
Name: Natalia Lazarescu
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Place of Origin: Wachter Lands, Barovia, Land of Mists
Age: 20
Class: Cleric
Alignment: Lawful Good
Highest saving throw: Fortitude, Will
Weapons: Longsword, Tower Shield
Likes: Theology, the Arcane, Herbalism
Dislikes: Disrespect to religion, when people talk too much

Appearance: Tanned, Barovian black hair with a somewhat wiry frame. Kind outgoing facial features with a distinct non-xenophobic attitude.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Kayle Walker on August 05, 2019, 04:10:51 AM
(https://i.imgur.com/jBy5Ndo.png)

Name: Tsukumo-Doji

Gender: Female

Place of Origin: Kozakura, Kara-Tur

Age: She doesn't know; Physically looks to be in her late teems to early twenties

Class: Barbarian, Bard

Alignment: Neutral Good

Appearance: Black hair and sharp-looking grey eyes. She almost always has her middle bangs scrunched up in a messy bun - more for practical reasons than any semblance of fashion. She has a scar running diagonally across her face, from temple to jaw. Standing at an average height, she has a wiry build, though one can easily notice the musculature on her bare arm.

Short Background: Tsukumo-Doji's first memory was that of dirt and hay, sleeping and sitting on it for days on end with the coming and going of plates of stale food as the only semblance of the passing of time. She was one of many outcasts secretly under the employ of the Shogun of Kozakura: as spies, slaves, or in her case, child soldiers. She was forced into battles that should not see the light of day; living and dying in the chessboard of politicians, pieces knocked down with impunity in a never-ending struggle for power. Even as innocent to the ways of the world as she was, Tsukumo felt a twitch deep inside with every time she raised her sword. Between the violence and the emptiness of the days spent in the stable, Tsukumo turned to her dreams as an escape, to help while away her dark days.

Eventually, what hides in blood cannot be denied forever. Little by little, with every kill and every person's appeal to her to let them live, she began to question her actions. The rage she leaned on to prevail in battle seemed a total stranger to her now, like strings that seemed to pull her to somewhere she couldn't see. And so, doubt led to resolve, and the girl who lived as a tool had her very first wish: Escape. She ran and ran, through streets and slums, and eventually into the cover of the forests.


Little did she know where her path led her to...
 
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Gmno on August 09, 2019, 01:57:05 PM
(https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/492495421814341636/609441725685039134/yukidnd32.jpg)

Name: Yuki
Race: Moon Elf
Height: 5'0
Weight: 100lbs
Age: 125
Home: Secluded Northern Mountains of Faerun
Hair color: Purple
Eye color: Green, glowing a faint blue while in the fray.
Family: The Order of the Avian Godking.
Combat: Greytide Style, an unarmed fighting style that incorporates the objects around her.
Phobias: Spiders

An Elven baby wrapped in fuzzy furs was found at the base of a mountain on a light snowy day. No evidence in the area showed any foul play nor any leads to where the parents had gone and with no other options Malon, Knightess of the Temple, took the infant up to her new home to be cared for and loved by the eclectic group that lived high up in a Monastery. Later that day High Priestess Aleiha had gathered the leaders of the faithful to help name the little bundle of joy which they decided to call her after the snow she was found in using one of the eastern languages.

Yuki's youthful stage, which lasted almost a hundred years, was spent doing chores around the temple and playing with any person who'd entertain her whether it be a humanoid or some of the animals living in the area. Throughout her childhood she learned of their doctrines and became a devout worshiper within the monastery which preached peace, love, fun, partying and spreading these oaths throughout the world. Although they were a peaceful group the faithful of the Godking would send their skilled members to fight against the denizens in the world that go against these doctrines as they believed anything that didn't agree with their way of life was not worthy to continue existing within the world.

She has many interests specifically learning about ecology and horticulture, often asking the elder's of her temple about various races and creatures within the world while caring for the beautiful gardens outside her temple. At an early age she showed a strong dislike for reading and doing math, finding them incredibly boring and thus relying on learning through oral stories and tales which she could learn from through self reflection. Due to her dislike of books she was unable to learn her native language and found the words confusing to read, only picking up a few phrases here and there as she listened to the other Elves when they would talk with each other.

When Yuki entered adulthood the High Priestess Aleiha gave her the blessing to begin training in whatever style she chose. Possessing no magical talent, whether learned or innate, and showing a dislike towards the use of weapons and armor Yuki was drawn to the unarmed styles of the monks within her temple. For many years she learned to channel the energy of her body, mind and soul to begin unlocking her full potential with the help of her teachers. Once she had mastered the ability to channel her ki she was able to begin her martial arts training and spent a month with one of the elders who would throw hundreds of rocks at her a day to help hone her instincts and reflexes.

One day while out in a clearing to practice her stances a terrible mist flooded around her and sent her into a foggy dream like state... when she awoke she found herself in a completely new world surrounded by people who looked at her with distrust due to her Elven blood. Having never experienced oppression, racism or even civilization she tries her best to fit in and learn how to survive in this harshly unforgiving world while making as many friends along the way.
Spoiler: show

Birthname: Elrowien Allana

Unknown to Yuki her parents were running away from their settlement after an altercation with a family member that turned deadly. At the base of the mountain they were suddenly enveloped by the mists and fearing for the safety of their child they left her underneath a tree. Running as far away from their baby as they could before the mists took them to the Dread plane. It isn't unknown if they still live or not, but one day Yuki might find out what happened to them...
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Lenshan on August 30, 2019, 06:30:24 PM
Character: Aurundal Vilheim (pending rename to Aron Vigh)
Race: Human
Subrace: Gundarakite
Age: 63
Class: Paladin
Current Alignment: Lawful Good.
Primary story motivation: Gaza (Legend of Legaia)
(https://www.creativeuncut.com/gallery-20/art/lol-gaza-concept.jpg)
Secondary story motivation: Maximus (Gladiator)
(https://res.cloudinary.com/jerrick/image/upload/f_auto,fl_progressive,q_auto,c_fit,w_1140/x9ho5k23zrxwmqf2flqk)

Player note: I am new to roleplaying, and new to this world.  I have little knowledge of general D&D lore, and less of Ravenloft or server-specific lore. This writing is my attempt at creating a backstory for my character.  If anything in it is inaccurate or incompatible with lore, please let me know, as I consider it subject to revision.

I'm one of the few Gundarakites who has survived into old age, and to be fair, I look far older than I am. I've served gods of death and hope. My mind has been shattered by tragedies, and rebuilt by experiences.  I lived as a civilian once.  Suffering quietly under the tyranny of Gundar, our ruler, as we all did.  None dared question him, the sacrifices, the God Nerull. These were our traditions, our mandates.  Any number of us could have ended his reign, but for the longest time, none stepped forward. Such is the weakness of all humankind.   A new age was beginning when Gundar was assassinated, but as quickly as it began, it ended when the Barovians invaded.   Many deny what happened that day, but I saw it with my own eyes.  My wife Eva and daughter Yllana, ravaged, over and over again, countless times, before and after their deaths, until the sun went down, and the Barovian soliders who brutalized my family turned to rat men and devoured their remains.  All while I was hiding, watching, a coward. Helpless. 

Was that the day that I decided everything will change?  No.  I was a coward then.  For decades, I did nothing.  I drank. I wept. I drank. I blamed everyone. I drank. I hated everything.  I drank. And most of all, what I hated the most was myself.  And then years later, that is where my story truly begins.  As a Gundarkite, I despised Barovians, and trembled at anything foreign, but at the Sanctuary of the Coming Dawn, everything changed.  The rain was pouring, the night was long, and the job I had at the Lady's Rest was not kind to my old bones.  The house was packed, but the oven was waning, and firewood needed gathering, if any was dry enough.  Over the cacophony of thunder, the downpour of rain, and the muddled cursing in my head, I didn't hear the howling of wolves, or see the night-black fur in the ocean of shadows around me.  So many of them, out of the shadows.  What meal could I be to such a horde?  I grabbed the ax from the wood pile and ran for the door, but I was already surrounded.  I swung at one of them.  A direct hit, but the beast laughed at me, and then, all went black.   When I awoke, I was still surrounded, but not by wolves, by men, and women, clerics, mages, even demons, but none of that mattered, for the face which loomed over me, it could be none other.  My Yllana. Surely this must be death. Her heavenly voice sang of years of practice, a song my sweet Yllana never knew in life.  Her voice echoed as she chanted above me.  Magic.  I've seen it before, many times.  The demons, the magic. Even in death, we cannot escape them.  As she finished her spell, my wounds closed further, I gasped for breath as my lungs hacked out the last of the blood.  What's happening? My sweet Yllana. Demons! Healing? My eyes began to finally take focus, and for the first time I noticed her hair, platinum blonde.  She had Yllana's face, but Yllana's hair was as dark as jet.  And then I saw her ears.  Pointed? "Yllana" I called out to her, as my mind crashed inwards.  My outer wounds were healing, but the shock of seeing my beautiful daughter again was breaking me. 

I awoke again, some minutes later.  Barovian priests from the temple had dragged me inside and were doing their best to make me comfortable.  From outside, I could still hear the battle raging. Steel and maw and spell.  Strange magics had barricaded the door, as a large green brute stood guard, protecting the Sanctuary's entrances with a robed woman and two large bears.  The demon from before was not to be seen.   My head was starting to clear.  I don't remember much of night following the attack.  The shock must have effected my memory in my old age. 

I continued working at the Lady's rest for several weeks, occasionally greeting and thanking my Barovian caretakers.  I never spoke of my vision of Yllana.  Surely I had imagined it.   Or perhaps I had briefly passed beyond to the realm of death, but if so, it seems like they brought me back.   As the weeks passed, I began to be more friendly with my Barovian saviors.  I began to listen to them, and their tales of the Morninglord.  With so much death, so much chaos, and corruption.  Their message was singularly out of place in this land.  Their message was hope.  It is night, but the morning will come.  Just as morning came for me that fateful night, morning will come for this land as well.  How, after all I've suffered through, all I've seen, countless times, over and over again, how could one such as I have hope?  And then, as I was thinking those very thoughts, washing the floors in the Lady's Rest, letting my mind wander, then... there she was. my hope.  My Yllana, sitting right in front of me, at a table.   I fell to my knees and wept, a mad fool for all to see.  And in that moment, I knew hope.  I knew my path was with the Morninglord, and with Yllana.  I will not sit idly by on Faith, nor will I waste what days I have left washing piss and sick from the seats of drunks and philanderers. 

(Player's note: I am not quite sure how to handle writing the dialogue of meeting Yllana just yet.  Dialogues are not my strong suite.
For now the shortened summary of the chapter is that we met, and beyond seeking a path of adventure and a meaningful campaign to change the world together.  I became a Paladin in service of the Morninglord.  She was in fact, not Yllana, nor did she ever pretend to be.  Her name was Shana, and she was a half-elf bard, but had no memories of her own from before the night she rescued me on the battlefield.  Most likely an outlander. I hope I can edit this later.)

As we adventured together, running errands for the Temple, and training each other, we developed a close friendship.  "Da" she would call me.  At first I thought she was saying the Barovian word for "Yes", but in reality, some instinct from her past prompted her to call me her father, and with her resemblance to my Yllana, I could not refuse it.  And so it was, she, (an adult woman of some years herself) was now my daughter.  Surely the morning has come for this old man.  Yet, having a daughter once again does not absolve the loss of Eva or Yllana, or my cowardice for letting it happen.  I have a purpose now, but not forgiveness.  I will have my justice, and I know in my old soul, that I will not die before it is served.
Title: .
Post by: Ogretime on November 13, 2019, 10:33:32 PM
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Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Monktrus on November 21, 2019, 06:29:17 AM
Diobarach

(https://i.imgur.com/eIsOlny.jpg)

From the mistways around Forlorn emerged a stunted and feral figure, taken to roaming the wilderness of Barovia. Claiming to be one of the reclusive druids of that blighted  land, he stays far from civilization and often aids those travelers set upon by undead and lycanthrope. Seems to be seeking further lore of nature magic and allies who might help those few left struggling against the goblyn plague that's long overrun the Forfarian's ancestral homeland.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: aquietghost on December 09, 2019, 12:39:30 PM
Asher Gilchrist
A huntsman and herbalist by trade, Asher Gilchrist was raised by his grandmother in Mordent's Vale of Twilight. Which is, on the whole, a rather unpleasant place to be. Seclusive even for the locals of that fog-addled place, they resided in a small hut on the outskirts of the Hardmourne. It was thanks to aiding his grandmother as she saw to the illnesses of Hardmourne's citizens that Asher learned the herbalist's trade. It was thanks to a need to eat, when the charity of Hardmourne's citizens faltered, that he learned to stalk and hunt the murky forests and heaths. What exactly became of his parents, and why he had been left in that old woman's care, is a question for the ages.

Asher has not come to Barovia by choice. A man of little words, the full story of his arrival here is hard to come by. It is one of swirling fog and a storm which kept him from returning home after a hunt. Of fenhounds in the dead of night. Of a wispy scythe and a mouth with too many teeth. When he awoke, he was in Barovia, not far from the city of Vallaki.

His knowledge of Mordent's flora rather useless here in Barovia, and his precious flintlock pistol having gone missing when the mists took him (never mind it being quite illegal here), Asher has been left bereft of what scant skills he might have relied on before. His first step now is to ensure his own continued survival, complicated in a place like Barovia by his imperative to follow whichever path may cause the least suffering, and then to seek like-minded individuals...
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Heresyteller on February 05, 2020, 06:09:41 AM
Yolven of Tribe Naiat, the Cursedborn

(https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/613153569654177805/662615147830968330/Yol_back.jpg)

Yolven the unfortunate

Yolven grows up in a circus of Vistani Naiat in the region of Old Gundarak in Invidia,  born from a rape by an invidian soldier, considered an unwanted because of his origins by many of the tribe, the Captain of the caravan, his grandfather, was against his integration into the tribe but through the pleas of his mother Liliana, willing to keep the baby, dissuaded the raunie and the captain, and the youngling was allowed, with reluctance, to stay.

Despite this, Yolven's youth was far from pleasant, estranged from the members of his own tribe and ill-considered, nicknamed by many as "Yolven the unfortunate" and as every half-Vistani he suffered of moon madness, called Lunatio, every full moon  his mind was lead into a state of delirium and lunacy, screaming and often trying to run into the forest alone in complete madness.

His mother Liliana, raised him as a Vistana teaching him the stories and traditions of their people and taught him the violin and the art of acrobat, his mother instilled in him the love for the stage and the beauty of dance and music, she was a woman of free of spirit, with her and the tribe they travelled far and wide through The Core performing for the various giorgios and seeing new places, for Yolven his mother was the most important thing in his life, his only friend and hope.

The years passed and his mother felled ill with a strange disease, everything possible was done but Liliana died after a week, this was a serious blow for Yolven, at that moment his light had gone out in front of him, the grandfather struck by the loss became violent and aggressive towards the young Yolven, every day he was mistreated and beaten, blamed for the death of his mother, considered as a "living curse", he lived three years in this abusive sphere, until the old captain decided to expel him from the tribe, with the permission of the seer, at the age of fourteen he was casted away into invidian land from his broken home, hoping that he would have find a quick death by the hand of The Dukkar, he was left alone and abandoned.

Yolven grows up with the namesake of "Cursedborn" , believing in the words of his grandfather, he killed his mother, he was and will be a walking curse, perhaps this was his fate, living alone for the rest of his days. The young Gypsy lived as a renegade and an outcast in Invidia, hunted like an animal by the men of The Dukkar because of his blood. Yolven developed a deep hatred for everything and everyone, considering the peoples the cause of his suffering.

Yolven decides to become a bandit, ambushing and injuring wandering merchants and lonely peasants for food and gold, he loses his days in alcohol, women and raids by living the day and drowning his pain and sadness with large quantities of brandy and wine, but over time he start having second thoughts, anger is attenuated when it perceives that it is not the only one suffering, this world governed by tyrants who dominate and instill fear and ignorance in the peoples, who perpetrate violence and slavery against the weakest and most innocent. Guilt took hold of him, he remembered the teachings of his mother, whom he had forgotten all this time.

He decide to leave Invidia to become a street artist, travelling from city to city entertaining the people, but often receiving the usual treatment that its people receive, gypsy and thief, something that Yolven has accepted and that he proudly wears as a badge, has accepted what it is, refusing to pretended to be something that is, a life like that will only bring suffering and regrets.

Yolven reach the cradle of his people, the grey land of Barovia, where his story has just begun.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Limine on February 22, 2020, 12:03:55 AM
Saskia d'Auvergne

(https://i.imgur.com/y4NxK6B.jpg)

Saskia is a fair-skinned, often red-cheeked, tired and suspicious half-elven woman, though the points of her ears are often hidden in bright red locks of long hair. She wears either dark purple and black leathers, that look like they were once well-crafted and covered in crests but have been through too much travel and wear to look like anything but leathers. She wears a cloak pulled tight around her shoulders, and though she's often looking around with unease and wariness, she has the countenance of someone been through enough hardship that she could not care less what next might come.

An outlander from the land of Faerun, Saskia has not only fallen far from her home, but far from her pedigree.

Born as a titled noble (well, halfways, through her noble father out of wedlock, though she was taken into the lineage due to a lack of many other heirs), Saskia was raised not only with the finest comforts the d'Auvergne estates (yes, plural, all along the Sword Coast) could afford, but also with the finest, and highest, of expectations. Since she was young she was trained in the arts, musical, magical, and practical, rhetoric, trade and commerce, even kept fit with lessons of the noble practice of archery, her arm-guards gilded and her arrows dulled. Nevertheless, her aim is true, whether it is pointed at a mink or was pointed at a target crafted out of polished redwood and endangered pines. The education started early and never stopped, until a horrific undead plague hit the countryside, wiping out many nobles and instigating a power struggle of epic proportions... of which Saskia's house was in about fifth place, behind those actually capable of taking power. Under immense pressure to maintain the prestige of her family name and prove herself (often reminded that she was not fully or truly noble...), Saskia set out from her home estate to find a group of adventurers or mercenaries capable enough to support her in finding a cure for the plague and secure her and her family's future. In her travels she saw disease and darkness, corruption and evil, and her naive and sheltered views of humanity, of social contracts and of grand heroism faded, month by month. Until, one dark and scary night, she and her hired group got lost in the woods, hungry and tired from travelling with little to show by way of success towards her goal. Running from a pack of wolves, she and one of the Mercenaries, Lucius, appear to have fallen through the dark, foggy forest and into a very different, even darker place.

And here her next story begins, disconnected from her only purpose in life, a cord cut clean through with no way to connect the ends ever again. She was trained for one world, and dropped into another where none of it seems applicable. No polished brass scales, inlaid with crystals and silver-vein embellishments, nor fine-grain wooden harpsichords with curved golden legs in sight. With one lifeline offered to her, she survives, and she learns, trying to decide what her life should look like with neither an inheritance, nor a lofty expectation to live up to.
Title: Valek Bernhardt, Paladin of Innos
Post by: Morrslieb on February 24, 2020, 12:59:49 AM
[The setting is based on the Gothic PC game series]


(https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/gothic/images/9/9e/Innos_w_Arcani.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20101225164720&path-prefix=pl)

Innos, Father of Mankind
"Innos is one of the three principle deities. He is the god of light and fire as well as the patron of humanity and the Nameless Hero. Of the three known gods, Innos is the first and highest. He has guided mankind's path from it's earliest beginnings, taking them from a disparate group of nomads to a civilization gifted with rune magic and order. The exact nature and extent of his involvement with man is never truly elaborated upon however. Innos is the traditional enemy of his brother Beliar, god of darkness. From the earliest beginnings of the worlds creation, Innos and Beliar have been locked in an eternal struggle to assert their influence and design for the world of Mrytana."



In the world of Myrtana, the eternal war wages on between good and evil, Mankind and Orc, Innos and Belair. The people live in a constant state of conflict, were loss and despair are a lasting reminder of their ongoing struggle. The great king Rhobar II, had become in desperate need of weapons of war. The armory was growing bare, and without a constant supply of armaments, his rule would eventually fail to the orc invaders. It was in this time, that the King's gaze turned to the Island of Khorinis.

The mines of Khorinis are legendarily filled with rich minerals and metals. It was with this knowledge that the King instilled his will, ordering 12 of his most powerful magicians to encapsulate the mines in a great magical barrier. Desperate for the precious ore, King Rhobar decreed all prisoners of Myrtana be shipped to the mines and work as forced laborers. from pickpockets to murderers it made no difference, even those with the slightest offense where brought to the mines of Khorinis. For many years the mines produced and the war against the orcs prospered. Unfortunately prosperity would not last, a great magical explosion was witnessed from Khorinis and the once powerful barrier had fallen.

With the fall of the barrier, the prisoners resorted to common thievery and brigandish, harassing the City of Khorinis, as well as the neighboring farms and forest glens. As problematic as it was, it paled in comparison to the rising threat on the eastern side of the Island. The Orcs of Myrtana had learned that the barrier had fallen. Without hesitation they began an invasion, a war to claim the mines for their own. The once secluded Island of Khorinis had finally succumbed to the eternal war, spilling onto it's shores. It was in this moment that King Rhobar sent 100 of his Paladins to reclaim the mines and re-secure the Island.



(https://i.imgur.com/CI9q8uf.png)

Paladins of Innos

The Paladins of Innos were the kings elite troops; but above their loyalty to country, they were first and foremost holy warriors of Innos. Among their ranks stands a tall and driven initiate, Valek Bernhardt sails for the Island of Khorinis with his devout brothers in arms. After the Paladins had established themselves in the Harbor City, their Commander Lord Hagen began allocating divisions to different sections of the island. Valek was sent with a small division to act as sentry guards outside the mountain pass gates that lead to the mines, now crawling with the orc invaders. Weeks turned into months, the only break in tension, was the occasional bandit or orc testing the small group of Paladins strength and hold on the pass.

After a time, news had reached them that the orcs were planning an assault on the mountain pass. Valek and his unit were informed of a large division of Paladins gathering in the Harbor City to defend the point of entry into the kings lands. unfortunately the news came to late as the Gates of the pass fell under siege by a battalion of orcs. The small group of Paladins reinforced the gate with wooden beams and metal barriers, but it was no use. The gate was slowly opened partially as the orcs forced their way through. As the battle rage on a mist began to rise from the ground, blurring the vision of everyone caught in it's thick web. Not before long the orcs had managed to push their way through, Valek fell to the ground in the moment as an axe wielding orc stood over him, raising it's weapon high for the coup de grace. Valek braced for the killing blow, his face locked in an expression of grimace. Moments passed... yet he did not feel the sting of steel from the towering orc. more over, a strange silence washed over the area... The clash and clang of battle had mysteriously ceased, and the strange mist began to part and dissipate. As he took to his feet, he was shocked to find himself in a strange land with only the haunting drum beats guiding him toward a new destiny...

Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Heresyteller on March 07, 2020, 06:15:22 AM
Remy Balzac, The Apprentice

(https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/613153569654177805/685438047520686097/PicsArt_03-04-09.59.12.jpg)

"Konowledge is a very fragile thing since it can be forgotten, destroyed or even molded, if not with the right care it can be turned into lies and misconceptions for future generations, then here we dwell in the concept of truth, what is truth? Truth is most often used to mean being in accord with fact or reality, or fidelity to an original or standard. Truth is also sometimes defined in modern contexts as an idea of "truth to self", or authenticity. But how can we say for certain that everything we know so far is the truth? How can we be so certain in our own personal convictions? What if everything we know so far is lie?
That is what I seek, Truth."
-Remy Balzac

I was born in 753 in the Quartierre Ouvrier of Port-a-Lucine in the Halfling ghetto, lost my mother at a young age, in ways that my father avoided to talk to me about, and I was raised by my him, the local doctor of the community. Since I was a young halfling I always had a very curious mind, I was always asking questions never stopping and wondering the whys or whats of everything, my father hardly kept up with my enthusiasm, so one day he gaved me a big tome twice as big as I was, on the front was written "Encyclopedia" my father told me this words that I would never forget "if you have questions find your answers" those words are something that still resonate in me, guiding me to this day.

My father, Remy Balzac senior, was an intellectual a refined monsieur of other times, he was the smartest man I have ever known, but there was always something about him that was amiss, a secret that didn't wanted me to know. He would always close himself in his office and remain there for most of the day for then emerge for eating and working on patients. He categorically forbidden me to enter his office for whatever reason.

Days went by, I helped my father with his clinic and continued my personal studies but I could only so much, I desired with all my heart to study at the university, but we weren't rich enough to afford the study materials and subscription, I went through a rebellious state, resenting the unfair government we lived under, I started frequenting local vandals and agitators, and with them made some "pieces of arts" through out the Quartierre Publique, I'm not going to lie and tell you that we always made it without getting caught, I can tell you that I spent my fair share of cell time.

My father was against this kind behavior and our relationship became sour, I spent my days locked in my room and in the night disappearing to go drinking at The Barnacle. I was very angry at the time with everyone abd everything, it was like someone cut off my wings to fly... Only because I didn't had enough solar to afford them.

One night me and my father had a fight, it was a bad one and it concluded with me storming out of the house, I spent the night drinking at the docks...the calibans gangs were roaming but I knew how to avoid them, but I felt regret in that moment with that bottle of cheap wine in hand, I loved my father more than anything in the world and I let my emotions taking hold of me. I runned back to my house, I remember it was raining... A fitting scenario for what I was going to find.

The door of my house was blasted open, and the interior was ransacked but they took nothing of the valuebles, the door of my father's office was open as well, I stepped inside the mysterious room that for 20 years I have never layed one foot inside, the study was cramped, books layed down onto the ground some of them having very strange covers, shelves were filled with strange tools and vials now completely destroyed, the desk was in mahogany and was completely in disorder, and a safe hidden behind a painting was open and completely emptied.

 But my focus was on something else, something that made my blood froze in dread, my father covered in blood laying on the floor, he still lived but he was losing a lot of blood, the strong old halfling I once knew was pale and weak and his voice was just but a whisper, his wound was caused by a gunshot apperantly, I ranned torwads him, he was in dire conditions he was left with only few moments, I holded him tight in my embrace crying and begging for forgiveness to have left him like that, he didn't spoke but he cried in silence... Trying to maintain more moments with his prodigal son.

We remained there for nothing but minutes, and his last words were "Find your answers". I cried all night until the morning with his body in my arms, the gendarmerie found me and an investigation went through, but soon after the case was quickly stored for lack of evidences, or to be more precise "We don't want to waste time on the little peoples"

I spent my days in my house drinking myself to sleep, and I continued to remember the last words of my father over and over "Find your answers" until I noticed one detail... Another encyclopedia in my father's office, standing still... And I remembered the words again "find your answers". I pulled the book and it turns out it was a switch, hiding a secret alcove in the office. The alcove had two books in it, one of them looked like a journal, the other some kind of Esoteric book... With runes and arcane markings on it. The journal belonged to my father and I discovered that he was a monster hunter a seeker of the occult, his journal speaking of his ventures and discoveries, and one note was left for me... One last letter from him in case of his death, seems he knew it was going to happen.

The letter was one last goodbye and he warned me of dangers coming to our family, even in death he didn't gaved me a straight answer, probably to protect me, but I was not going to stay there and live the happy citizen life.

The tome with markings was a magic book, filled with spells and incantations I spent two years studying it until I was able to master the spell it contained, I was going to lose the house, debts where piling and so I decided to leave Dementilue and the currupt Port, to find my fortune somewhere else and to find my answers.

Title: Ness Bana Anstapa
Post by: diestormlie on March 14, 2020, 12:30:39 AM
Ness Bana Anstapa, an Elf born of Waterdeep
(https://i.imgur.com/MtmcHxu.jpg)

This Dark-Skinned Elf woman is built like the lovechild of an old whip and a dagger; lean, tall and long-necked. She is not not quite bony, but barely so, a shallow layer of muscles and sinew close behind her skin, fingers thing and long. Her face is framed by long, swept-back ears, pierced through with rings of silver and bone, a pair of silver-bright studs peaking through her right eyebrow. She wears a trio of finger-wide scars proudly, a pair slashed across her forehead, the other from mid-left cheek to under the line of her jaw, their deepest points filled with subtle inks of black and red. She is not beautiful, not by a conventional standard, and only rarely stoops to apply cosmetics to herself. Nonetheless, she is fierce and striking, and she tends to leave an impression.

Her expression, by temperament and habit, always returns to a half-smile, half smirk, like she is privy to a vaguely mocking joke about the world in general, and to whatever situation she finds herself in particular, with a flair for the dramatic, gesturing and pointing and sending obscenities. She is mercurial and temperamental, however, leading her voice, Waterdeep Docklands cut with Elven, Sylvan and Undercommon inflections, or the strength of arms to any discussion, danger or argument she finds, meeting each with jesting mockery, quick to hostility but rarely keeping grudges, with those she does keep run deep and bitter. And so, for every moment her face is at rest it is in motion, quick to rise and fast to fall, anger and delight, joy and bitterness, laughter and anguish, pain and suffering and gloating glee all have their turn across her features, as intense as they are brief.

She is rarely without a rapier at her hip, a sap and two daggers tucked into her belt, and they are never too far from her hands, no matter where they lay.

---

Ness did not enjoy her childhood. Her mother did not want children, but could not bring herself to abort her first child, Elisbeth, Ness' older sister. She married Asca, Elisbeth's Father. This was a great mistake, given that he was a violent, abusive little toerag. He was already a drunkard, and she, in despair, soon joined him.

And so Ness came into the world, into a miserable, unhappy and povertous family. It perhaps does not need to be repeated, but needless to say, Ness did not enjoy her childhood, for it was full of bone-deep hunger, the crushing misery of poverty and pain, both from life and... Family. But there was always a fire in Ness, and she fought back, even when it meant she got hurt worse. And when she grew old enough and daring enough, out in the streets she went, picking pockets, filching from market stalls, whatever she could get. And she was good at it. Good enough to eat more than her sister ever did, good enough to get snatched by a gang and inducted. Good enough to undo the bone-deep hunger, to grow tall, lean but and not bone-thin, healthy and not sickly.

And then Ness was in, and she slipped, unthinking and uncaring, into the life of a low-level Ganger, never seeking to climb the rungs after the first time almost killed her. She learnt her own rules, to not trust, not get attached, not go down with the ship, and feed from the bottom. Sure, you never climbed, never got a better lot, but the bottom of the ladder is it's own sort of security, and when the chairs at the top gets shuffled you barely notice. And over that, she was all sorts, mugger and bully-girl and knifeworker (that means "killer" if you're unaware,) but she it was housebreaking and burglary she did best.

And that was Ness' lot, until one day, running down an alley, fleeing a job gone botched, she was swallowed up, and spat out in Barovia.

---

Anecdotes and Tidbits

The first Time Ness was hurt
The first time Ness suffered physical violence, she was a child. Her father was drunk again, and had already laid into her mother, also drunk. For talking back, or something or other. In the end, did it matter? She had scrabbled up onto the narrow straw-and-rags loft she shared with her sister. But where her sister had pressed herself into the deepest corner, Ness was daring, and peered over the edge of the loft, watching. Her face caught her eyes, and his rage was kindled anew when he say. "You have her eyes" was all that he could muster because he stormed towards her, and Ness' confidence broke, and she scrambled backwards into the loft, pressing herself into that selfsame corner that her sister was already cowering in, pressing up against her.

Mad with fear, her sister pushed Ness away from her, and Ness tumbled forwarded, teetering on the edge of loft before tipping outward, smashing her arm against the beam holding the loft up, smashing her ribs and bashing her head.

And so, whilst her Father hurt her more, and more often, it was her sister that hurt her first.

The first time Ness killed
It was a dark alley, and there was some sort of gang feud or brawl or skirmish. Ask her, and she wouldn't remember who she was fighting, or for who. She thinks they went for their knife first, so she went for hers. She doesn't remember if she wanted to kill them, but she remembers that she didn't much matter if they ended up dead or not, but that they had to stop. So she struck out, and she hit, but they didn't stop, so she struck again. Their blade kissed her cheek, giving her the scar that lingers there today, but her blade found their throat, and there they died.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: BigBoss on March 19, 2020, 01:35:13 AM
Derico Blake of the Unready
(https://i.imgur.com/KOTzuWY.png)
Derico Blake from the time of Unready Kingship. (Depiction of Derico at the age of 18, 3 years before his misting.)
Derico Blake is a very young Englishman. He stands around the average height at the time for a male his age. Black hair and dull hazel eyes with rough, but pale skin from hard labor under the cloud covered sky's of England. He was raised in a Christian School and Orphanage on Gothic Earth, but most of this time he cannot remember. His later years he became almost like an older brother to young girl named Arianna. Arianna had a very young sister, a toddler, Marrissa, who was being raised at the orphanage as well. They became a family, sticking together when they needed each-other most. Eventually, a nearby noble took Derico in as a page, and then a squire by his side. Derico spent most of his time working as a squire for his landowning noble, or spending time at the orphanage volunteering time. He also did extra work at his local church, learning of God and the ways to act as a man, soon-to-be knight, and son of god in these harsh times. At the age of 18 he became a Curate, a priest's assistant. After a year of hard work and training he was officially knighted under his local noble and landowner. He was given land and plenty of time since he was a Curate, which was considered a very noble title along with being a priest. Therefore he had plenty of recreational time. In this time he fixed up his home that he was given, and provided rooms for Arianna and Marrissa.

(Time skipped to the day of his Misting.)

Derico had come back from volunteering and learning to smith at the nearby blacksmith. He made his normal routine back home, carrying a bag of brand new tools he made himself. A smile on his face as he passed and greeted those of his village, it seemed like another day to him. When he arrived home, he found his front door ajar.... he dropped his tools, pulling his blade from his scabbard. Where usually he was greeted by his two younger sisters, he was met only with silence. His eye peeked inside instantly spotting a pool of blood and a limp body. He quickly burst inside to find 17 year old Arianna lifeless, the house a wreck. There was a struggle, and she had a knife in her hand at one point, now broken and on the floor. A quiet yet simple "No..." was all he could produce. He quickly rushed to Marrissa's room finding her 4 year old body lifeless, halfway under the bed, in a thwarted attempt to hide. Derico quickly dropped his blade and scooped up her body, tears streaming down his face, he ran to the front door out towards the town. "You'll be fine Marrissa, e-everything will be fine, e-everything is ok love, d-don't worry." he spoke, to Marrissa possibly? Or maybe only to comfort himself. But instead of the town he could see from his door, he only saw forest and mist, but he ran and kept running, not even his home was behind him now. Only woods, and mist. He tripped and fell in a fluster, dropping Marissa. Yet when he stood, she was gone. He scrambled for a moment, sobbing to himself, in a panic to find Marrissa. But all he found was the distant fire in the dark and figures dividing their newly gained loot at the Vistani camp, completely unaware of the darkness that had fell upon young Derico.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Syphiralae on March 21, 2020, 06:37:47 PM
[DESCRIPTION]

Name: Aelou (Formerly Aelou Aethran)
Race: Human
Height: Short for a human
Hair: Vibrant Red
Eyes: Blue
Skin: Tanned from being outdoors

[ORIGIN]

     There once was a noble family of Aethran. Now this family was quite minor in the grand scheme of things, not having any big part to play in the shaping of the world around them beyond their city. This family was large with children aplenty. Often this led to one or more of the children being neglected, not out of malice but of lack of time and focus on other things for the parents.
     The youngest, a girl by the name of Aelou Aethran, had to find things to entertain herself outside of her lessons quite a bit. She became fascinated with animals and creatures of various origins; how they felt, moved through the world, and thought. She wandered to the edge of her local forest to observe the local wildlife and eventually even attempt communication, which was eventually successful. One day due to holding very little attachment to her family and city she disappeared out into the world surrounding her home, thinking herself ready to survive. This was the last time anyone in her home city saw her...

The Beginning of the Journey

     She made quite a distance in the beginning of her journey, having the ability to communicate with the various wildlife and learn survival from them. However eventually, as life is wont to do, she ran into trouble in the form of a diseased bear which mauled her quite severely. She opened her eyes after regaining consciousness to a dryad tending to her, gaining her first actual friend in the wide world and teacher for various things.

//To be expanded upon//

 Eventually the Mists swallowed her...

Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Sado on March 23, 2020, 07:53:44 PM
[DESCRIPTION]

Name: Zorathast (Formerly Orryn Timbers)
Race: Rock Gnome
Height: 1 m
Hair: Black
Eyes: Green
Skin: Pale from Much Time Indoors

[ORIGIN]

     Orryn Timbers was apprenticed to the gnome illusionist Zook Ningel as a young boy after finishing top of his class in the gnomish village of Tongin. Always too serious and too obsessive with his studies - Orryn always was the butt of practical jokes among other gnomes which only infuriated him and pushed him further into isolation. After discovering his aptitude for the magical school of necromancy - he was only further scolded and constantly stifled his increasing obsession with "magic that's no fun or use to his clan or kin". After mysteriously turning up missing for several days, Master Zook's body was discovered strangled in his bedroom with his own necktie. Orryn was never seen in Tongin again.

Unbeknownst to his master's knowledge - Orryn had discovered a lost tome in the library of Candlekeep during his travels with his master. Within this tome it detailed several of the accounts of a demon lord of the Abyss Orcus and his power over undeath - even the creation of immortal liches who wielded incredible power. Experimenting with dark rituals and even darker spells - Orryn quickly tired of and outgrew his master's lessons.  After copying what useful spells he could that remained from his master's spell-book - Orryn fled his village and what he perceived as the cruel jests of his people. Not content to be limited or held back by his childish and naive clan - Orryn set out into the world of humans. Abandoning his gnomish name - he took on the name of an ancient scholar of heretical knowledge Zorathast. He would get the attention of this demon lord and achieve power over life and death.

Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Syphiralae on April 05, 2020, 01:55:29 AM
[DESCRIPTION]

Name: Shanis
Race: Human
Height: 1.85 meters
Hair: Light Blond
Eyes: Bright Sky Blue
Skin: Lightly tanned from outdoor activity

[ORIGIN]

     From a far off plane where the land is naught but jungles there was a girl. This girl soon after being brought into the world was sacrificed to the witch spirits of the jungle, known for their many shapes in order to bring good tidings to the village of her birth. She never set foot in or even known of the village that birthed her, having instead been accepted as the sacrifice and raised as the witch's own in the ways of the lands. These witches, for they were not worshipers of nature, also horded knowledge of all kinds and were rather well learned. They passed on the knowledge they deemed useful to aspiring witches/sacrifices, language and the like, how to communicate with the animals of the woods, and spellcraft that was the basis of their ability to shed their form.
     This all prior to the first trial which was to travel through the jungles to the north, where a singular mountain could be seen and present yourself to the beast within for a test. One in which she never arrived too, as on a night during her journey north fog had grown too much, and thus the mists swallowed her.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Baliverne on April 25, 2020, 11:11:46 AM
Name: Aria Winterson
Race: Humain

"My name is Aria, and I feel lost here".
Ever since she woke up at the gypsy camp, Aria's been feeling bad, far away from her people. She had grown up in a peasant family, living a peaceful and happy life. She had joined the nearby monastery to become a priestess of Pelor. Life seemed radiant.
Her brother had joined the army. He had come back, a few months ago, strange, frightened. His troop had crossed a dark, fog-filled region and got lost. He hardly spoke any more, at night he was restless and woke up screaming. One morning he set out again without a glance back. "I'm going back to Barovia." I haven't heard from him since. Aria had decided to do everything to find him and under Pelor's protection, she couldn't back down anymore...

Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: JustMonika on April 30, 2020, 07:15:42 PM
Those who know Lilith Farthingdale will probably that appreciate by now that she is at the very least a woman of misdirection.

In keeping with her persona, I decided rather opposed to providing any actual facts I would provide some misdirection of my own in the form of music, and share the playlist of songs which either inspired/inspire her, and that I listen to while playing her.

There is likely more truth in there than anywhere else.

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLaq-nw6_59oiyA05VcyrjkBTdPSb23GOH
Title: .
Post by: Ogretime on August 26, 2020, 12:11:42 PM
.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Monktrus on October 04, 2020, 04:41:00 AM
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Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: JustMonika on October 15, 2020, 04:18:09 PM
Espérance Moreau


Espérance is a member of house Moreau, ruined these last six years, its lands siezed by the state after the unfortunate and suspicious death of Lilianne Moreau.
Having spent the last six years committed to the Aslyum, for 'Profound Hysteria', she has recently been released and deemed 'No Longer a Concern', and allowed to resume a normal and productive adult life in Dementliuse society.

Robbed of her title, her voice, her heritage and her dignity, Espérance has set out on a personal quest to restore dignity and nobility to her house and her name, and seeks one day for the name Moreau to be spoken again in polite company, in something other than a scornful whisper. With no living relativies that she knows of, no assets to fall back on, and little experience beyond her six years of 'Therapy', her path will no doubt be a difficult and troubled one, with every chance of ending as her late aunt did - Face down in an alley with her throat slit.

To say nothing of her uncle Doctor Wymmer Drukker, from whom she has heard nothing since her imprisonment and subsequent release.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: divine-darkness on November 10, 2020, 06:59:56 PM
(https://i.imgur.com/M211Ahm.jpg)

Khelgar

(https://i.imgur.com/WN8BIQt.png)
Matilda


Khelgar Thun'Vek was nearing the trail of Balin's Bridge. Every 50 years a Thun'Vek can risk their life to demonstrate their skill and bravery by defending the bridge from spiders lured deep within the mountain. It was on this bridge that Balin Thun'Vek himself wielded the great runic axe Thun'dakor, which he used to  trade his life to defend the bridge from the  fierce queen mother of spiders, an ancient beast known to all who lived beneath the surface there. It was here that Matalidar was slain, and while Balin's life was lost shortly after to his wounds his legend lives on.  An era later, people reenact his bravery and honor the great axe Thun'dakor that has come to be known as Matilda in times passing.

This would be Khelgars second try, he's spent the last 50 years licking his pride after lost footing and a nasty bite forced his retreat.. Khelgar swung furiously that time, but only managed 32 kills, 8 short to earn his title as Khelgar Thun'Vek Dakor, an elite axeman of his clan. Bound in service until he is too old to continue his duty.

The trial started to great success. 10, 15, 35 kills. In moments Khelgar had laid waste to a horde of spiders and painted the bridge green. Then silence. For all the spiders had perished. Their horde was depleted. It was a first, rotting roche meat had never failed to bring them up in uncountable numbers before, but their brood was diminished and Khelgar hadn’t the kills required. In a moment of fate defining judgement khelgar sprinted across the bridge and down deep through the tunnels in search of victory.  As dictated the rules of the trial. He could not be aided.

Khelgar squeezed through narrow stone tunnels, twisting and turning as his legs became slowed and entangled. As he reached for his bottle of oil, to loosen the webs, he noticed the mist. Slowly it overwhelmed him and everything grey dark.

Khelgar has sketchy memories of the event. Worsened by his sorrow bound drinking. He stumbled upon Dverheml and took up employment mining. Solem and lonely work for a measly 3 gold a day.. He was forced to homebrew and eat scraps. Contemplating his situation, his loss and his defeat. His hair grew matted and his once hard body grew a softer coating.

It wasn’t until a small cave in that Khelgar found his valor once more. When all the other miners had succumbed to their entombed fate. Khelgar never stopped digging. Over two weeks he dug them all to freedom. Blistered and battered by his task Khelgar slept for days. Once awoken, his fellow freed kin presented him with an Iron axe. Nothing special, but to Khelgar it meant the world. While he would never hold theThun’Dakor he would find a new Matilda in these lands and claim it for the Thun’Vek. His clan's name would ring true in these lands and he would earn the right to be Khelgar Thun’Vek Dakor one way or another. 

Khelgar has little care for his appearance. Evidenced by the days old dirt he wears and the poignant smell he radiates. Save his beard, which while rarely washed is at least simply braided

But, what's more striking than any other feature is that Khelgar has lost half his nose, leaving him with one nostril plainly on show and a lopsided septum.


  Those who know Khelgar know this is something never to bring up. He's remarkably sensitive about it and there’s no quicker way to get into a fight. Fists only mind you, even enraged Khelgar is honorable to the last.  Across his neck is the tattooed ink “Matilda”, he’s clearly and un-artfully done it himself.


Having lost his clan-connections, Khelgar was also left without a book of grudges. He took it about himself to make a new one.  From time to time he’ll get it out and scroll over the pages, but new entries are quite rare.



Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Facilis on December 02, 2020, 06:57:41 PM
Richter (Fang), a slave from Athas

(https://i.postimg.cc/yNr6xpCX/Richter.jpg)

The son of Brevit and Chessia was a runt of the litter no mistake, his brothers and sisters were for the most part stronger and faster than he was, but they lacked what he had, resolve.  Raised in a tribe centered around the idea of masks and the hunt, he recieved his first at the age of four - his mother having gave him his first mask, a severed insectoid head that had been gutted in order to make a primitive form of helmet.  Richter had a promising life in his tribe, he learned quickly that he had some sort of affinity with nature, and how to properly use these gifts for the hunt.  Yet he was ripped away from his tribe at the age of 19 into a life in chains; slavery.  He worked in the mines day and night with little rest, knowing this second life would be nothing, but toil - he held onto his culture with a deathgrip, he would survive, no matter what he had to do, no matter... who he had to kill and steal from.  Luckily, his peers though the same way and when Richter was around twenty-seven, they organized a revolt.  Letting his fellow slaves die so that he might survive, he sprinted into the vast desert wasteland with no water... the heat burning him slowly, he tried to think of home, but to no avail his body gave in, and he passed out.  Now he awakens in the Core, Barovia to be exact.  A new hunting ground to put his skills to the test, will he die in pursuit of the ultimate game?  Or will he succeed in becoming the greatest hunter his tribe had ever known?  Who knows?  Richter... now Fang, will test his mettle and show himself what he can do, when pushed to his limits.    Good hunting, hunter - you'll need it.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Basil Fawlty on December 08, 2020, 05:41:02 PM
The story of the Jarhead clan. :mrgreen:

For any stranger walking past the cave, the sound emitting was easily taken for some sort of growling.
Most people would walk away, but not us! we are immune to this fear and will soon find out what its is! ;)

On approach we remove some dangling roots and shoo away some scarabs scribbling about! we take a deep breath as we enter the half rotten door and the smelly warmth tree roots hangs thick in the air.

We soon spot a female human in labour and leaning over her, we see a strangely dressed male figure, on approach we soon see his back is not looking normal
*odd spikes pokes through his cloak* neither is his voice *he speaks with a deep growling voice* My dear, they will soon be here, and I'm not sure my magic can hold them off anymore, my illusion's are failing.
 *we spin around and see a horrible twisted face with blood oozing from several warts and by magic swirling into a human face but soon fades back into the twisted and blood oozing  face*

The female looks with intense deep love in her eye
My love I know your soul and when you freed me from your old master by renouncing him and escaped with me, I knew then, and I know now.. not even death will keep us apart, and soon we will become more *she screamed and looked at him happy* soon my love. soon
 *we get startled in our spectator mode as we are deep into the birth of what seems to be two male babies, one as beautiful as his mother *well almost* and the other terrible twisted face as his father*

 BOOOOM BOOOM BOOOM *the door breaks down and before our eyes :shock: an immense battle of colours and lights arise! in a blink of an eye the battle moves outside and away from the place and we rush after*
What happens next is hard to describe but when it is all over, we see the male from the hut laying down and a hooded figure gripping his hand dripping with blood , and by the looks of it, a finger is missing! :!:

We can almost see the holy symbol he is clutching but alas, the figure evades our looks as he mumbles a spell and fades away. :shock:

we return too the hut and see the woman crying her heart out whilst screaming as she names her sons..

Zzark and Cleft you shall be the dreams of ours...

*we get sucked out and the narrator speak*  :lol:



// ooc

Posted some start info in my bio.. not sure this is the rite place but here goes.. new player *5 days under the belt* love rp *prefers rp*
played NwN way back... enjoyed it a lot 8).. liking the place here.. finding my ways..

Enjoy..
Title: Vladimir von Servovich - Son of Kresk
Post by: Morrslieb on January 23, 2021, 03:23:56 AM
Vladimir von Servovich



(https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/756593601835958342/802445316095737906/unknown.png)



The von Servovich family name is said to be as old as the Terg Foundations that lie scattered over Barovias landscape and history. The very name "Servovich" in fact means to serve. naturally following in the usual Barovian custom of, serving themselves. The current generations of the family have lived in the City of Krezk for over a century, comprised of Merchant Nobles and members of the Red Vardo Trading company. The family is notorious for its "larger than Life" views, where father and son compete over station, wealth, and reputation in Krezk society. Greed is an often term coupled with the von Servovich name, but not an uncommon Term among those occupying positions in the Red Vardo Trading Company...

Jasev von Servovich holds a quartermaster position among the organization, tending to financial affairs on a daily basis. forced to raise a son on his own, as his wife succumbed to death during his son Vladimir's birth. stemming from wealth and the loss of his wife, his son Vladimir was raised and tutored by outside influences. Governess and teachers procured from his connections within Dementlieu, he was able to provide his son with the best education any Barovian could receive. When Vladimir had come of age, he was sent to the College of  Dementlieu for 6 years. Vladimir learned to read and write multiple languages, studying the scholarly arts while absorbing the pristine characteristics and etiquette of the Dementlieu people.

while Vladimir spent his time at the college, he took a keen interest in the arcane arts. His curiosity fueled his drive to learn and perfect his own talents, dazzled by it's wonder, and the intoxication of true power. knowing full well his new found interest would not be tolerated in his homeland, he kept it confidential and out of practice for the most part. never taking unnecessary risks unless at the most dire of circumstances. After his schooling, he made business preparations to return to Barovia utilizing his new found Scholarly talents in a land deprived of literature, planning to make his living off of a very small market with very few competitors. He decided to relocate to Vallaki so that he would not be in direct competition with his relatives. hoping to carve out a legacy of his own, and reaping the profits selfishly for himself.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Sammylix on February 28, 2021, 05:42:30 PM
(https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/42360c4d-fbae-4747-a5e9-3381d1ca500c/datviuf-85b2d893-da58-4018-9334-08320e9d389c.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOiIsImlzcyI6InVybjphcHA6Iiwib2JqIjpbW3sicGF0aCI6IlwvZlwvNDIzNjBjNGQtZmJhZS00NzQ3LWE1ZTktMzM4MWQxY2E1MDBjXC9kYXR2aXVmLTg1YjJkODkzLWRhNTgtNDAxOC05MzM0LTA4MzIwZTlkMzg5Yy5qcGcifV1dLCJhdWQiOlsidXJuOnNlcnZpY2U6ZmlsZS5kb3dubG9hZCJdfQ.hSbSR9AtrIMaMbYoJ69Db8nZBsa9vr88pN8QlBuy6_s)
Ansel Ward

With pointed ears, vibrant greenish blue eyes and darkly accented hair, Ansel stands at an average height. A giamargia, Ansel is both half-Vistani and half-elven. He was raised by a single elven mother in Mordent, after she ran there out of shame. What new lands have to offer to Ansel, remains to be seen...
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: RumbleBR on March 02, 2021, 06:21:53 AM
"English is not my main language, sorry if have errors"
Character:  Thallarian Silvermoon
Race: Moon Elf
World: Faerun
Origins: Silverymoon
Faction: Order of the Crows.

History: Thallarian borned 220 years ago on Silverymoon, his parents was members of the order of the bow, and Thall was trained for join the Order as his parents. He joined the Order but 100 years later he asked for retire because he thinked the Order very much Boring... Soo he took his gold and traveled to the sword coast for join in a Pirate crew, the Laskilar's crew. Laskilar is a tresure hunter pirate and there on his crew, Thallarian learned to be a bard with another Bardo of his crew, he learned the power of the songs, how the music can motivate the warriors fight better and inspired! But Thall was not saciated, he wanted learn more and he have "magic" running on his blood, soo he wanted use his magic on the songs, the better way was leave his live as a Pirate for become a musician. He searched for a order of sorcerers, but for join the order he needed learn the "Dragon's language", was not easy but after he learned they teached how he can use his magical "gifts" from his blood. After learn that all and feeling ready for show the world his musics and magics, a strange mist envolved him and Bringed him to another world, full of danger and madness... And today he joined the Order of the Crows for protect this world of evil creatures and show this new world the power of his voice.
Title: The Black Rose - Lucien de Bellerose
Post by: Heresyteller on March 19, 2021, 05:42:09 AM
LUCIEN DE BELLEROSE
THE BLACK ROSE

(https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/613153569654177805/834814044010446878/PicsArt_04-22-05.32.50.jpg)

 
"The rose has not whithered yet."

-Lucien de Bellerose

 
Lucien de Bellerose, nephew of the Marquise Vincent Luis de Bellrose and son of Gerard De Bellerose and Chantal de Bellerose, was born in Port-a-Lucine in the ancestral family house of Cheateux Rouge.
Lucien was the so called "Black Rose" in the "Rose garden" that was the family tree, he had a reputation of decadence and seductin, stealing the hearts of many young gentryfolk and commoner women during his youth, but public confirmation of such rumors were never been outright proven due to his position at the time before the Revolution and the importance his uncle held over the city, the young noble was a gifted one with the natural gift of magic, and in order to keep the general public to know of such dastardly news, he was sent to the university to study the basics of arcane sciences and commerce in order to cover this very unfortunate scandal that befall the noble house.

Lucien never supported his family conservative ways, so bringing the disfavor of his uncle. His father Gerard was captain of the trading vessel known as "Wind Rose" of which Lucien held high regards for him, always enjoying his seafaring stories and to one day be a successful sailing captain as him.

During one fateful journey Lucien's father never camed back from his last venture that was headed for the mysterious Sri Raji, Lucien decided to join as junior officer on a trading vessel belonged to House Passeleau, serving under Captain Artois Passeleau, to learn the ropes of the trade and to ultimately sail in search of his father, despite the forbiddence of his family and the contrasting suggestions of his peers. Lucien sailed on torwards the unknown only to find his father's vessel stranded an destroyed completely empty of crew and valuebles, Gerard De Bellerose was considered "Lost at sea".

Lucien decided to continues his journey, he sented letters at home explaining his goal of finding new trade routes for the family but the second motivation, and the most personal one in his heart, was a self imposed exile to mourn his lost parent and the vain hope to hopefully find him.

Lucien took care of his mother by sending funds from his trades in Sri Raji never ceasing to take care of her even so far way from home. During his prolonged stay in that mystic land he discovered powerful and mysterius magic arts practiced by his Raja patron, of wich he decided to learn from him its mysteries, from the teachings of his new master he comprehended his arcane gifts better than before, aquiring the capability to weaken his enemies or even destroy them if needed be, his patron taught him that the way of surviving this world is becoming stronger enough to never fear deafeat or even death, mastering yourself is to master victory, through wits, magic or simple strenght. during his travels he received the news of the death of his uncle by the hands of revolutionaries, he did not shed a tear for the man, but only after 5 years of trading and exploration with house Passeleau, he received words of the death of his mother due to illness, the young noble decided that it was time to return to his homeland, to arrange the funeral of her mother and restore the family fortune that he carelessly ignored during all this years.

The Bellerose House is now considered a bygone of lost times, Lucien find himself in a new Repupublique with nothing but it's name
And little riches in his possession, he will have to navigate through the folds of the playground that is the Dementiluese Game, as the last Bellerose alive he shall rise again from the ashes of his forgotten family
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Alemax on March 26, 2021, 08:14:29 PM
DANTALYON VANCE

Human of Neverwinter
Age: 19
Height: 68 inches
Weight: 154 lbs
Hair: Dark Brown
Eyes: Deep Blue

Dantalyon was a fortuitouse child of a lustful act, borned in Neverwinter from an unknown father and a whore, he soonly has been abandoned in nearby woods, left to die by his unconsciousness mother. At least, the gods will conducted a man, precisely a swordsman called Garrison, in the cries direction and when he found the newborn decided to save him from a terrible death. That is the beginning of our story: the child was military trained by his father-looking master, he learned how to wield a sword and the many ways to use it, he also learned the basic culture of Faerun and elvish and dwarvish languages. When the boy turned twelve they started a mercenary business to overcome the lack of money and that was the way which Dan understood the cruelty of the world and all the terrifying things belonging to fights and wars.

That period passed fast ahead, the two warriors started to make a name for themselves and the requesting of brave swordsman never missed. The youngest improved a little time to time and began to think about his life until those journeys, he thought that in his entire life he never felt really secure and above all he didn't belong from any place. Who were is parents? Why did they abandoned him? Did he has been abandoned again? These thoughts continued to whirls in his head and discracted him from his duties.

One day, while they were crossing the woods near Baldur's Gate, a pack of bandits ambushed them and the fight was extremely hard. The iron crossed each other, intoning deaf and cutting sounds that echoed among the branches of the trees, Garrison was the first to fall in a bloody pool with the throat cutted, Dantalyon wanted to scream, full of pain, his eyes moistened ready to shed tears but nothing emerged from his mouth. The remained bandits prepared the last hits on the survivor but the boy who became a man in that moment tightened his grip on the sword and with his teeth grinded started to slaughter all of them with an unspeakable anger. When the fight ended there was only dead bodies around Dan who knelt in front of his master's and cried for the entire night. The one who loved him as a child, the one who taught him the ways of the sword and shared his time with him was died. The guy felt lost and didn't know what to do so he wandered in the woods without an aim, without a direction, nobody could say how many time he spent walking but something strange happened... a thick mist surrounded him and a cold shiver made him tremble but he kept walking.

Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: crimeindex on April 05, 2021, 01:19:20 PM
Indira

Half-Vistani of Sri Raji

Eyes: Purplish Grey

Hair: Black

A casteless Ratcatcher, Indira was the result of an illicit tryst between a promising Priestess of Kali and a Vistani Man of the Zarovan Tribe. When the pregnancy was discovered, the Priestess was cast out losing her status and forced to live among the slums of Muladi until her death from sickness.

Growing up, Indira found her calling as a ratcatcher, becoming one of the countless hunters that tried to keep the rats and the vermin infesting Muladi and the surrounding rice paddies down to a minimum. While her job is thankless and humble, she sees this as part of her duty to protect communities from Starvation and Sickness, like the one that took her mother.

Until one day, when the star-less night of Sri Raji enveloped Indira, a whisp of Mist wrapped around her ankle, followed by others that embraced Indira like purring kittens while a figure watched from afar. A few moments later, the Jungles of Sri Raji gave away to the Forests of Barovia and a new life for Indira.

A new life, new goals, new possibilities...and a bunch of Rats to catch!
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Andragorin on June 23, 2021, 05:15:22 AM
Adrian Drakenblood

Faerunian human, northner

Eyes: white

Hair: black

A second and middle son in one of the many noble houses of Ravens Bluff. In his childhood he enjoyed what any noble kid would enjoy: rich life, education, games with his brothers, a servant maiden who acted as his mother and the rest. His father was just a descendant of a knight who was rumored to have blood of a dragon coursing trough his veins, hence the name. And while the house was still rich, it's prosperity was held by quickly crumbling foundation left by said knight. And Adrian's father, being but a minor politician, clinged to every opportunity he could to keep his prestige. One of those opportunities were his sons. And so, in an effort of spreading the influence everywhere, the older one was sent to become a merchant, younger one was sent to be a wizard's apprentice which correlated with their wishes, and Adrian was sent to become a monk in the temple of Lathander, which was very much not to his liking. A huge scandal spanning a week ensured, Adrian wanted to be a knight! And trough all the arguments about "but it's dangerous" and "you owe this house" he still held strong. Maybe because his father was tired of this little brat's bullshit he offered him a compromise - a choice of which temple to go to. Rolling his eyes, Adrian decided to say "The True Temple of the Dead" as a "screw you". With a long facepalm and equally long, tired sigh, the father agreed, to much of his middle son's surprise. Adrian tried to protest but there was no way back as he was dragged to the temple.

It is there the priest of the temple, Damien Rethart, taught Adrian everything about the path of Kelemvor, the horrors of undeath, and, surprisingly, he started to warm up to the teachings. And so the years passed. The priest became and actual father figure, better than the real one. Adrian didn't forget about his dream, and Damien actually listened. Later in the month a knight of the Phoenix came looking for a squire so conveniently. And Adrian's hard training with the knights fighting undead and outsider begun, in secret from his family. More years passed. He became a full fledged paladin. It was time to open the cards. A family reunion, another scandal, yet what's done is done. Father wanted so salvage the sutuation and comissioned a set of silvered armour. And after this gift there was an ultimatum. "After you officially join the Knights of the Phoenix, you will stay at the house and look beautiful. No objections allowed.". Having a knight and a paladin at that as your son was still prestigious, he thought. Adrian didn't answer. He just took his belongings, the new set of armour, and left for the temple, which became his real home. Damien was there to listen to his plight and suggested a journey. A journey to the south-west, to the Sunset Vale, to seek out the Knight of the Eternal Order. Adrian took that advice with glee. And, with a cloak with a symbol of Kelemvor as a parting gift, he begun his journey.

And after a few weeks, while travelling trough a dense forest, he was suddenly surrounded by a thick fog...
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Raven Credale on July 30, 2021, 10:46:38 AM
(https://i.imgur.com/5r1zTwz.png)

Fleurina Du'Parcina
Faerunian Half Elf, Baldur's Gate
Without the hood & Cloak:
Eyes: Green with gold flecks
Hair: Black


    A nineteen year old Half Elf from Baldur's Gate and a former student of the owner of Sorcerous Sundries. From a glance one would not see anything that stands out about this young woman. She wears grey or dark colored clothing at times and when she does not were her traveling attire, her town clothes can be what some would call vexing. With either low plunging neck lines or tops that stop just under her bust, this girl seems to understand that charms can get many to let their guard down. Her attitude is calm and collected, as though she were anticipating the moves of others and calculating where her next fifty steps will be. When she speaks there is a slight annoyance in her voice, as though she find things to be of some small annoyance. Though when around friends, her tone is slightly playful.

    Fleurina (Commonly called Fleur by allies and friends) is studious in fiddling with locks and disarming traps as a sort of hobby. True she is no expert at it and she is well aware that she may never get to that stature of expertise, this does not halt her desire to sneak into places she should not be. Her hunger for knowledge and her desire to know more of hidden secrets is also what has brought her to the Mists. Gifted with arcane talents, Fleur learned rather quick that her particular skill set would make most of the Gangs in the Lower city of Balder's Gate want her in their groups. She was also aware that adventurers enjoyed talking about their travels to places and what they've seen. Thus at the age of sixteen she went to Sorcerous Sundries and started to work there.

    Two years passed, in that time Fleur had learned of some interesting things. She kept her wits about her and gathered as much information as she could from others. At night she would sneak her way to the Low Lantern or the Hanged Man Inn to gather more and learn some interesting languages. At one point, she managed to win a bet against a Drow, whom was very displeased with knowing they had been outsmarted by a child. But a deal is a deal and as such their payment was teaching Fleur Undercommon. As much as they hated it. After the lessons, the same Drow attempted to take Fleur's life but the girl was smart and had kept the Drow out til dawns first light, knowing their weakness to the light hindered their abilities. With Fleur out of their sight the drow hissed and slunk back into the shadows.

    By the next year, Fleur was off in run down building of the Lower city. She had done her research and had grown curious of something called the Shadow Fell. Little did she know that the drow from the year prior had tracked her down. While she creating a sort of door to travel to the Shadow Fell, Fleur had been interrupted by the drow and was knocked into the middle of things. This ultimately changed things not only for Fleur, but for the Drow as well. A thick fog started to form in the room, still dazed by being knocked down Fleur had trouble keeping at eye on where her attacker went. But as the Mist grew in the room she started to hear something else. Wings flapping, small noised of branches being moved by the wind and lastly...a pack of wolves howling into the night. Walking backwards through the fog, Fleurina stayed alert as she looked for her attacker. Not seeing them in sight, she turned around.

    That's when Fleurina Du'Parcina came to realize....she was no longer in the Lower City of Baldur's Gate.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: TurningLeaf on August 27, 2021, 11:58:46 PM
"Vel" Shannar

Race: Human
Preferred Pronouns: He, him, his
Origin Realm/Location: Oerth/Greyhawk City

Vel comes from a wealthy and privileged background. He is the son of two powerful mages, a Flannish wizard and a Suloise sorceress. Through his father's side his extended family is active and influential among the Boccobite community of Greyhawk City. The aforementioned circumstances were fortunate for one such as Vel who ended up without any sort of exceptional talent and who possessed (at that time) only a middling motivation. There happened to be an opening in the temple guard that Vel's mother heard about, and from basically Day 1 Vel was considered to be leadership material. All would likely have proceeded according to expectation had Vel's track not veered suddenly off into the mists..

After coming through the mists Vel went through a period of denial and paranoia. Soon however Vel came to see the event as a great opportunity. Despite never having really shined at anything, he could potentially become a renowned explorer. While Vel is not without ego, he truly believes that the greatest thing about becoming a renowned explorer is that it would signify he has added a great deal to the store of knowledge. Among Boccobites this is highly revered.  Vel views his experience through a religious lens and has now begun to develop his communication with the divine as a true cleric of Boccob. It should be noted that the store of knowledge that Vel values adding to, is the store of knowledge in Greyhawk City. Thus his overarching aim is to learn and record about the lands in the mists and then to get that information back to Greyhawk somehow.

Vel has strong ideas about social tiering. He does not care for various 'peasant' behaviors. For Vel the learned and most knowledgeable people in society are the most valuable. His manner is stiff and somewhat formalized. This is because his parents were almost always away or busy and Vel was essentially raised by his tutor Jaro who was old enough to be his great grandfather. Once when Vel was quite young, a man- a stranger- approached him and his tutor when they were out by the big pond on the estate. The man was crazy yelling about how he was going to take Vel away, he grabbed Vel in one arm and tried to push Jaro away. But Jaro cast a spell on the man, he dropped Vel and the man's lungs filled with water and he drowned there next to the pond. The stranger's dead drowned face has always haunted Vel and ever since then he has an intense fear of drowning, dislikes being in water generally and prefers not to swim.
Title: .
Post by: Ogretime on October 03, 2021, 09:04:33 PM
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Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Thornquil on November 05, 2021, 05:23:41 PM
Origin: Earth

Circa 1650 A.D.

Education: Ancient Egyptian Seminary.

Memory: Due to an accident, he has no real memory. And, will in time accept Ravenloft as "reality".




Thornquil is a member of the Egyptian seminary Amdid, whoese real parentage is of Welsh nature, after spending 5 years in the seminary he new many hekau (magic) words of power, and now he seemed to be in a new world, he had spent some years in the military, and as such was somewhat well versed in matters the wordl.

He wondered what to do, who he  could trust, so much from where he'd come from.

He'd always learned of being fey from his studies, and witch blood. Seeing dreams unfold into reality, Now he is an elf! Of all things!

I guess I will use my seminary studies to hide my hekau from people, and concentrate on healing and such.

Title: Alyzenya Iromythe
Post by: Raven Credale on November 10, 2021, 05:15:46 PM
(https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/722662621567909898/908082560326832148/Aly.jpeg)

Name: Alyzenya Iromyth
Nickname: Aly
Age: 22
Race: Half-Elf
Height: 5'9"
Class: Favored Soud
Faith: Tyr
Origin: Toril, Forgotten Realms (Tasseldale to be specific)

Hair Color: Golden Blond
Eye color: Crystal Blue
Skin tone: Fair (and blemish free)

Attractiveness: Boy someone get a bucket of water for this smokin babe! Crap she's hotter now! (Yes Charisma based class, and a Muse!)

Bio:

     Born in Tasseldale, Alyzenya grew up in the temple of the Maimed God. She was abandoned on the temple steps one night with only a note saying what her name was and that the god had different plans for her than that of a normal girls life. The clergy questioned the note for a moment, but did not turn Aly away and took her in. Over the years, Aly learned and aided the clergy as best she could. She grew to become a lovely woman with peerless beauty in Tasseldale, but never allowed her looks to ruin her friendly nature or kind heart. She aided the injured and was strict with those who faked being harmed with gentle words. But when she was not aiding the inured or sick, Aly was training herself in the ways of the sword. She couldn't explain why, but holding a long sword in her hand felt right to her. As if she was meant to hold this sort of weapon. In time, Aly was pulled to the side by one of the head clerics of the temple. She was given a long sword and shield then asked to guard a noble who was making his way to Cormyr for business. She accepted the task and went to change into her armor for the trip.

     When the time came to leave for Cormyr, Aly waved farewell to her adoptive family and mentors of the Temple. She followed the nobleman on hoarse back to their destinations when a strange mist started to roll in along the trade route. Aly's horse bucked her off and ran back to Tasseldale, Aly laid on the ground a moment then got to her feet as she tried to regain her baring's. Taking a lantern from her pack, she walked the road through the mist as she looked around for signs of where the noble's caravan had gotten to. But they were no where in sight for her. A soft frown and curse escaped her before she tried to trace her steps back, only...she had lost the trail some how.

    Confused by this and perplexed of what she should do, Aly took a deep breath in and exhaled it to help center her thoughts and focus. She looked back behind her towards the direction she had originally faced. She took a step in that direction, then another before the sound of drumbs could be heard in the distance. She paused and listened for a time before following the sound, her free hand hovering over her blade in anticipation for a fight. When the sound was clearer for her to hear, did she lower her hand and look at the sight of the Vistani camp and their Vardos.

   This half-elven woman now finds herself in a land where an iron fist rules and the people scared of outsiders. Where good is said to fail and here evil thrives. Will she be able to hold onto her moral code and personal beliefs, or will she fall like so many others?
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Khellendros on November 17, 2021, 01:45:00 PM
(https://i.postimg.cc/Z0G8CWc5/Davena.jpg) (https://postimg.cc/Z0G8CWc5)

Name: Davena Sharel
Race: Aasimar
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 185 pounds
 A tall handsome women with a commanding presence she rarely takes advantage of. Her skin has a the sheen of burnished gold, and her eyes shine the vivid blue of a Sapphire. Her Hair is almost a metallic golden color worn long and kept in a ponytail. She favors cloths of white and blue.
Favored Soul of Torm

Home World/Location: Toril Westgate

      Born into a family of clergy of Torm shortly after the time of troubles she was raised by her fathers fellow paladins while he was away. Her mother passed away in childbirth so she only really learned Duty and the precepts of her faith. The clergy of Torm saw it as a good sign that the marks of divinity showed on her even though her mothers death shadowed that excitement somewhat.
      Davena grew up thinking her father disliked her for her "killing" her mother. His cold and infrequent visits always seemed more duty than fatherly and at first it hurt her.. But around 13 she came to realize that she didnt blame him and knew he did the best he could just like all people did she looked enough like her mother, despite the marks of her heritage that she understood it pained him to see her.
      She dove into her martial training studies with new fervor. Her Divine heritage while seen as a good sign to the clergy further set her apart from other humans, and the ability to learn the spells of the faith without study made the clergy uneasy, both of which closed her off even more to relationships of any kind among her fellows. The Clerics of the other deities of the triad were especially harsh to her. Having little time for anything or anyone that they saw as a direct opposition to the established order and learning procedures of the churches. So at 16 she left the Church of Torm and traveled the lands helping people as she could in her gods name.
        Following in Torms example she wields a greatsword in battle relying on the powers of protection from her god to protect her in addition to her Plate. She is steadfast and unwavering (but truly untested) in her ideals. She always will be on the look out for corruption in "goodly" organizations and while she wont break the laws set down in a land unless they are in opposition to her beliefs.

Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Raven Credale on December 22, 2021, 10:05:02 AM
(https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/722662621567909898/921414942605840405/E04-R0CWEAIZAvQ.jpeg)
Rauva Z'ress (NCE)

"Shadows and Loss are wise teachers. Only fools and bigots ignore their teachings."

Race: Half Drow
Age: 25
Origin: Forgotten Realms, Toril (Amn)

    She steps in the shadows, between world and society. She is neither loved nor accepted in either. And this does not bother her. Loss has been one teacher she has yet to meet. But the shadows and the Lady of them, those are her mentors. She now steps into these lands with nothing but her quarter staff and her fists. But she seems to seek the knowledge these lands hold in their shadows. And she aims to collect what she can for her lady.

    After all, it was in the shadows that she found her way to Barovia.

    But before all this, before the shadows and before the Mists. She was a slave. Like so many of her kind, treated worse than the common house pet and left to starve in silence. She knew a life of chains, orders and beatings before the Shadows cloaked her. The Underdark ad it's denizens...how she hated them so. How she hated the chains, but she would not be able to leave them. Eventually sold to a Pig of a merchant in Am, she tried time and again to escape. And time and again she was caught and dragged back to the Pig that was her owner. How she hated him.

    Until one day, she managed to get away. She ran weaving through the allies and overcrowded areas, how she used her environment to elevate herself to above the streets. Little did she know she was being watched. Watched and evaluated. When she believed to be a distance away from the Pig. She looked back and found herself in a different area. One that she hadn't visited before. She walked around, the chains on her wrists still jingling in the wind as she moved. Her eyes then caught sight of something interesting. Something hidden but not quite. Moving towards it, she found an entrance and stepped inside. Following the path in, she can to find herself in a large open area. The feeling of being watched soon made itself very known to her as she stopped.

    "Leave or die." A voice said.
    "You and I both know there's no place for me to return to, and that I have no intentions of dying." She answered.

   The voice was quiet before a dagger flew past her, cutting her cheek and ear a bit, but she didn't waver at all. Someone walked out of the shadows towards her and studied her over a moment. "Young, but not a child. She could use one like you. You now have a choice. Join the Order of the Dark Moon. Or be killed right here."

   She didn't hesitate on her answer. "I'll join."

   The figure didn't give a nod or any acknowledgment, but instead broke the chains off her wrists. "Come...and prove yourself."


    It was three years later that she would return to the Pig merchants home. Three years of having been trained in the Order. And today was her graduation of sort. It was the darkest of nights, the moon was nowhere in the sky and the cit was asleep. She moved through the shadows, deft in her steps as she recalled her training over the years. She moved from shadow to shadow as fast and quietly as she could before coming to the Pigs room. Creeping in, she moved towards the sleeping filth. Beside him was one of his slave girls...a pitiful thing. But she cared little and did wat she was tasked to do. She walked out of that place, blood on her hands and two corpses in a bed. Her violet eyes turned to the dark night before she slipped away back to her new home.


   Yet she did not notice the mists that slowly began to swirl around her ankles. Until something or someone knocked her unconscious.

   Thus began her imprisonment in a new but bigger cell. It makes one wonder, how shall she survive this new hell? Where the chains have wrapped around her and where the Mists seek to grip her neck in many forms.



((Feel free to poke this lady of mine or simply drag her off to adventure. Please don't off her straight away ;v;.))
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Primeape on April 09, 2022, 10:52:19 AM
Name: Gavrosa Pulex

Age: Appears to be mid-twenties
Race: Human (Chelish, Chelaxian)
Origin: Golarion (Pathfinder), (Avistan, Inner-Sea region, Cheliax)



GENERAL APPEARANCE:

The woman stood tall around 5,8”. She had fair, almost pale complexion, a sign of her Chelish origins and family roots. Midnight black hair, strong emerald hue'd eyes.

Her general build was impressive in physique, trained throughout years of rigorous training by the militant regime she and her family were part of. She covered much of her skin and form either by the plating of her dark armouring or clothing of rigid, militant fashion, decorated by whatever foreign symbols and rank. Additionally, to her impressive physical form, she appeared as a picturesque depiction of a noble-blood, from the sharp angular shape of her jawline, perfectly proportioned eyes, ears and nose. As if some unholy machine had created a human out of a painting, beautiful, yet so unnerving and intimidating.

She wore her noble, albeit outlandish standing and station proudly. She was precise, clear and concise in her tone of speech and approach. When confronted, doubted or challenged, one could sense the sheer force of will emanating from this woman. Albeit she was not openly confrontational, yet she was stern and unyielding, rarely giving an inch from her position unless deemed advantageous for her in some way. Like Cogs of machinery, slowly turning in her mind as she calculated her steps, her words.

Kindness, warmth or even empathy. These didin’t fit the the encounter when interacting with her, rather: Efficiency, ambition and cold, ruthless logic. Underneath this cold veneer, at times, a hint of smoldering emotion slipped through. Eyes a-blaze in unfiltered hatred and despise, a sharpening of her expression as her trained patience was running short.



GENERAL BACKGROUND:

Born of noble origin around the year 4665 AR (Absalom Reckoning), to house of Pulex at Ostenso, south-eastern shore of the empire. Her family was a loyal supporter of Royal Thrune regime of Chelaxian empire, since when, was difficult to track. The state-sanctioned history is renewed every now and often and older publications, copies and books were collected by the Hellknight Order of the Rack, burnt in the clarity pyres. However, the house allegiance can be assumed to be traced all the way back to the era of Civil-War which begun as the Cheliaxian Patron diety, Aroden died in 4606 AR, tossing the empire in chaos and fractioning the noble houses and allegiances apart. As house Thrune stepped up as one of the first noble houses for the imperial position, inciting feud at 4608 AR, new allegiances began to form, many who rallied behind house Thrune’s banner. House Pulex likely, either a fractioned section of once larger house of different name, or an already allied one of Thrune, finding opportunity and strength under Thrune’s dominating stance.

The turmoil’s of civil-war and eventual rise and dominance of house Thrune restoring the fragmented empire, shaped house Pulex in adherence to the new regime and order. The rise of house Thrune brought Diabolism, reverence of the now new patron deity of Cheliax: Asmodeus .. Some, who dared, questioned the new diabolical power that was now a state-power and alignment of new Cheliax, but such dissidence was quickly dealt with the steadfast orders of Hellknight, born of Cheliaxian origins a century before the civil-war and some say, had prior infernal influences already, readily supporting the new found rule of house Thrune under the guidance of Asmodeus, the king of Hells. It was during the reconstruction of the war-torn empire, when dissidence was still stirring trouble, outside forces beyond the empire borders ever present, twins were born, daughter and son.

Baron Gaudianus, now elated father of twins, a supporter of the royal regime, a house of some meager military competence but mostly by trade in Ostenso, the city having strong ties to the Order of Hellknights stationed therein: The order of Pyre, holding order and infernal law in the region, greatly supported by the nobles of the region for the stability and order, fear the name of Hellknights invoke.

The two twins, his offspring: Gavrus & Gavrosa

The father’s expectations high for his firstborn son, Gavrus. Years of difficulties to conceive an heir to his name, stillborns a curse and point of ill rumour and ridicule to his house. The baroness had grown weary and despondent for not bringing new noble blood to her Baron, so much so that the Baron himself growing evermore disappointed of her wife, despise and loathing brewing under the noble composure. At last, an heir was born, to bear his noble name to future grandeur. No matter the whispers and rumours that circled in the dark, by the lips of those jealous of his house and position he was assured, of claims of dealings in the dark by otherworldly beings, Fiends. To find solution to the wife’s lack of child-bearing capability, vitriolic accuse of the twins being a result of some sorcery, diabolism .. Rather than true heirs of Cheliax, noble of blood, of Aroden.

Any such claims, were contested, and at times, if necessary, fervently fought by skirmishes and force if the question of honor was at stake. Silencing any slithering snake-tongue. Baron Gaudianus asserted himself with steadfast station, in defense of his noble name and house.

Yet, throughout the years, under the Baron’s watchful guide and lecture: The heir to his seat, Gavrus was meek and frail, soft of tongue and demeanor. Unskilled in both blade and mired in difficulties to focus on studies of anysort. Moreover, the son was prone to sickness. Fever ,rash and delirium a normal torment already. The Baron watched as his son was not growing, but withering and weakening every year. Each year, a loss of potential, to ail and suffering. The Baroness could not bear see her son, shutting herself from her weakly son leaving his care to the household servants and his sister.

The sister ...

It could not have been a starker difference between Brother and Sister, as the sun and the moon. Gavrosa grew taller than her brother, even that of most boys of her age. Not only was she physically stronger, she had inherited the fairest image of a noble-born Chelian appearance, many would liken her appearance to the Thrune themselves, so much was her fairness to the depicted paintings of Abrogail the First in her younger years. Young Gavrosa learnt the art of melee with terrifying ease from the house instructors, wherein her brother was unable to focus in study, Gavrosa was intelligent and logical, albeit her interest was readily distracted in the favour of more physical endeavors. This would again, incite ill rumours again, questioning the fidelity of the Baron and the legitimacy of his daughter. So different were the brother and sister in appearance and bearing.

One time, at a play and a social occasion, where children played by their peers as the noble parents conducted affair and business, faux pleasantries. Children knowing no better of their manners, chose and pick a target for their malevolent tease: Gavrus, weak of body and mind an easy target for ridicule and rough play for the pampered children of noble. Tormented and laughed upon. The father could only bear the humiliation, his weak son unable to stand for himself, bear proudly the name of house Pulex. The heir to his greatness pushed and played, like a dirty pup or a cornered rat. Much to the surprise of the father, and the nobles present. A young girl took stance by her brother, demanding for her brother and his house, price to be paid for the insult and assault.

Giggle and laughter ensued midst the noble sons and daughters, their peers. Ridiculing the laughable son who could not fend for his own honour, finding his own sister to pamper and fight for him.

.. The laughter and tease ended abruptly however .. It was the last time, anyone, child or man both insulted house Pulex in the public eye ..

Where public jest were no longer practiced, it turned into more whispers and avoidance of the family. And the daughter. Many years later, the father reminisced in silence by the fireplace, leaning deep into the old seat and soft linens, as age began to pay toll on his mind and body. He recalled vividly the day: 

The shrieking sound, like an animal was being peeled alive, gurgling. Panicked groups of children and their caregivers shielding their young from the scene, stepping away. Young girl mounting a lifeless body of a boy her age, or even year or two older, a firm hold onto the throat while in the right hand she held a lump of crimson flesh.

Her daughter approached then, her Baron, father, presenting the price paid for insult to his name and house. A true performance of overbearing power, the crimson blood covering her daughter like a draped linen and a cloak, her eyes staring directly to his father’s .. Smoldering in red and fire, unyielding and uncompromising.

.. He remembered again, why he didn't like this look from the girl, barely half his height .. This child .. This creature of his own design and curse ..

.. It was fear, utter and unavoidable terror ..


The Baron took a long, inaudible breath, and a hopeless stare into the hearth and fireplace. Stirring only as he heard the footsteps of heavy, armoured boots, as the double-doors to his chambers were pushed open. The man shriveled on spot, declining deeper into the false comfort of his seat .The heavy footsteps encroaching, before settling by the side of the Baron’s seat, in moment of silence before breaking into a familiar voice:

“Father, I have returned” - ...

Cold and terrible sound reached from the towering, imposing woman of dark and edged armouring. She was beautiful, incredibly so. But the cold stare from those same eyes, and the echoing “gurgles” kept him apprehensive .. Finding himself, again, avoiding the coldness of his daughter's stare.

“A-Ah .. Welcome home, Gavrosa .. “

 
DEPARTURE/MIST-CAUGHT:


WIP
 
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: felixgfms2 on June 14, 2022, 04:12:14 PM
Name: Vilithril
Nickname: none
Age: 650
Race: Wild-Elf
Class: Druid
Faith: Seldarine: lathrien Druanna; Fenmarel Mestarine; Solonor Thelandira; Rillifane Rallathil
Origin: Toril, Forgotten Realms

(https://i.pinimg.com/originals/6c/87/66/6c87669df3eb30ea1d76b50a167023dc.jpg)

Seeking the height of his mystical power in connection with the vital forces of nature, Vilithril isolated himself in the Peninsulas of Chult, determined to overcome with his magic the challenges that exist in its dense forests. Unfortunately, his search ended badly. Captured by yuan-tis, he was made an offering to a fearsome half-serpent transformation ritual. Before the ritual ended, in an inexplicable way, Vilithril found a breach in the flow of the magical energies that nourished the ritual and managed to escape through an unexpected planar rift. Not knowing where he could go, he ended up getting lost in the mists of Ravenloft's borders.

Today, Vilithril seeks to hide the dark aftermath of this ritual in his flesh, bones, and spirit. Wile Trying to save himself from the wounds of this ritual, he searches for a way to return home, back in Toril. 

(https://media.magic.wizards.com/image_legacy_migration/images/magic/daily/features/211c_pwg2_11_1g53a4msbn_1.jpg)
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: fullgazz on November 03, 2022, 01:36:45 AM
(https://i.postimg.cc/Zq29PRRR/hazellarsen.jpg)



Hazel Larsen & the Brotherhood of man

Hazel is a man in his 40s, perhaps once an attractive young man, now out of shape, with little hair, teeth already worn and darkened. The only son of a prominent silk merchant in Baldurs Gate, he knew the finest in high circles. Close to his 18th birthday, his parents were killed on one of his trips, apparently approached by pirates on their way home. If it wasn't enough to be grieving the news, he discovered that his world of luxuries was just an illusion and that his father would be in debt and in his last chance to resume his import company, it would be this trip with an exotic and extreme shipment. value. After seeing his house taken over by bankers, and having his life threatened, he tried to flee but was captured by loan sharks. After they had nothing more to take from Hazel, they sold him into slavery in a coal mine, where he met his great friend and master. When he arrived he was terrified and was assigned to a cell with another prisoner, a man in his 50s or older, badly treated and with an advanced appearance. At first everything was very frightening, terrifying paintings on the walls, mice sacrificed with adornments on their bodies, terrible nightmares were provided by those images, while a silence of weeks was maintained in the cell. Every day he woke up at 5 o'clock with thin soup and moldy bread, was chained and taken inside the mine, where he excavated until 6 in the afternoon. These interactions with his cellmate who he then discovered was called, Rajit, a loyal follower of Valsheeron. Over the years the terrifying vision of the images eventually became reality and then came the appreciation and they were already seen as splendid arts. Hazel, who then had no attachment to religions, accepted the reality of Valsheeron and also became a follower after witnessing some of Rajit's little necromantic tricks, such as stealing teeth from corpses and replacing those that had rotted. After 7 years of living together, Hazel already saw in her colleague, a father figure, but fate once again took care of bringing him to the cruel and cursed reality of his existence. They planned and dug for years, a tunnel that would lead to an underground gallery, through which they would escape, however, when accessing this gallery, they were surprised by a landslide that trapped them with no chance of accessing the cell again. If there is only one way to escape, follow the paths of a former stream and dig until you find a way out at the foot of the mountain. They dug until their supply of food and fire-making material was exhausted, until Rajit no longer had any strength left and constantly fainted in his forays. It was then that in a last gesture of... I don't know how to explain properly if compassion, continuity, giving up... He ordered Hazel to kill him quickly and eat his flesh and offer this sacrifice to the Archmage Necromancer. Hazel refused at first and worked forcibly for two until there was not much of his strength left, as an act of desperation, then he attended to his master and performed the ritual, exactly as he had learned for years. When he woke up, it looked like his wounds had healed and he now possessed strength and stamina far beyond what he could ever have imagined. Even in the dark he forced himself to dig and for some reason he could feel the right place for each pick. In a few days he managed to find the first light fetish and then escape the mountain and the coal mine. Weeks after his escape, his only place that could be accepted would be in the North Cemetery of Baldurs Gate where Rajit's brethren gather. Arriving at the cemetery and waiting for three long days and nights until he found the traces of the cult, he finally managed to enter as a member and approached another with a hood, telling his story and falling into the graces of a spirit Sepulcher who welcomed him in the rituals and completed his teachings, charging him only weekly rituals and the upkeep of the temple. That ritual ended up becoming a habit, accustomed to the physical prowess provided by cannibalism, he continued to feed on human flesh, taking advantage of his new job, gravedigger, until a moment when normal food no longer satisfied him and this ended up becoming a curse. His ascension in the church of Velsharoon was guaranteed, he just had to wait for his superiors to die... but the necromancers refused to die after they had already reached memorable ages. In a desperate attempt to prove himself, he invoked a sinister ritual, something that was dubious even for a cult of necromantics, but his lack of experience led him to draw the attention of the mists that led him to Ravenloft.

(Today in his 40s, without a Velshaaron cult, he sees his only expectation of rapid rise, as he still possesses his gifts, to join the Church of Lawgiver, hiding his true dogma, and use that influence to his advantage. Only that way, he will be able to keep your sordid and refined habits safe and out of prying eyes.)

"Now, your time has come, a storm of iron in the sky
War and murder come again, lucky if you die
No way to rescue destiny, scream and curse in vain
You will never be remembered, no one knows your name"

Brotherhood of men - Motörhead


Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: fullgazz on November 06, 2022, 10:05:37 PM
"Now, your time has come, a storm of iron in the sky
War and murder come again, lucky if you die
No way to rescue destiny, scream and curse in vain
You will never be remembered, no one knows your name
When the music changes then all is broken down
Mighty cities laid to ruin, burning to the ground
Murder is become the law, you cannot make a stand
Chaos rules the world, now mortal, brotherhood of man
You cannot hide the truth from me, I know what's in your heart
Greed and jealousy, each equal, all your days now dark
Mighty mountains fall in dust, the world falls into hell
Faith in lying prophets, no one to lift the spell
Monsters rule your world, are you too scared to understand?
You shall be forever judged and you shall surely hang
We live and scrape in misery, we die by our own hand
And still we murder our own children, brotherhood of man
Blood on all our hands, we cannot hope to wash them clean
History is mystery, do you know what it means?
Slaughter, kill and fighting still and murdered where we stand
Our legacy is lunacy, brotherhood of man
We are worse than animals, we hunger for the kill
We put our faith in maniacs, the triumph of the will
We kill for money, wealth and lust, for this we should be damned
We are disease upon the world, brotherhood of man"
[/i]

Motorhead - Brotherhood of man
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Monktrus on January 04, 2023, 07:25:43 AM
(https://i.imgur.com/yuc085l.jpg)

Outside the carved ice of the frost giant's bastion, the blizzard howled and groaned.  It was a constant, hellish noise. Fitting enough, since the 23rd layer of the Abyss could be considered a worse place than a few of the Hells. Outside the bounds of their masters stronghold were grisly fates beyond counting; demons roamed the glaciers and corpse strewn tundras, the wind itself seemed to delight in stripping flesh from bone and freezing to black ruin any life that was not adapted to it's bite. Korstaag thought about that as he brought his hammer down on the massive greatsword laid out before him; the echoing strikes of his clan rung along around him, the frost dwarves hard at work smithing armaments for their colossal overlords. He didn't know anything else. In this place, strength was all that was respected or noticed; the wounded and weak were snatched up and devoured in giant's teeth.

And somewhere beyond this stronghold, as they had been told by their masters, the greatest of all the giants was Kostchtchie, demon prince of Wrath. They were made to offer tribute to him before the gore strewn stone altar of the shaman; but honestly Korstaag would have offered it unbidden. Might of arm and body. That was all that mattered here. And the strongest deserved their rule. And so one day, when some of his clan brothers whispered of a plot to escape to a camp of other runaway frost dwarves out in the layer, he told the Jarl in hopes of improving his own standing with the Jotun.

The towering warlord guffawed and patted him on the head, knocking Korstaag to his knees. "You have done well! We will break their legs to keep them at the work. But if there is a camp, you will go find it for me. There is always need for more loyal thralls!" The brutal laughter of the gathered giants struck a rage in Korstaag's heart, but he said nothing against them as he was thrown out of the ice gates with a pitiful few weapons and meager food. As the frost dwarf trudged out into the howling ice, cursing his luck under breath, he didn't notice the ice crack and shift in front of him. With a curse he tripped and slid down, down, down to a dimly glowing portal deep in the frozen ground...
Title: Mordalynne DeWynter (Ravensmere-Marshthorn)
Post by: Mordalynne on January 30, 2023, 06:23:58 AM
(https://iili.io/H1nEMZJ.png)

What is the measure of joy for an individual? Is it counted over great tables, keenly watched by jealous eyes as they move it around in great piles?  Is it spoken by forked tongues to ears that have no intention of listening, hollow words of flattery and obsequiousness? Or is it something intangible, earned not given. I believe that to hoard happiness is to steal it from tomorrow.

The sun would shine through mighty stained glass windows, illuminating ancient bravery and acts of love and valor but the rooms were laid cold and devoid of those very things that shone upon their floors. This was to be my prison, the gilded cage of cold, unfeeling luxury. For amusement we would regale each other with stories and perform recitals of past cautionary tales of old and of fleeting victories. My lines were practiced and delivered with the emotion that I am afforded or can muster. It is a supreme irony that our history is nothing but shallow plays on decaying pasts and desperate nostalgia of a life that never truly existed.

I have been promised to one that I do not love, one that I feel no connection to. Wallis is the wealthy heir to the mercantile Pomeroy-Dumont family and whilst he has his fine graces his words ring hollow and disappear on the breeze when we are together. He interest lies in the continuation of his line and he seeks not a wife, more a servant or someone to simply warm or hang upon his arm at high occasion. His temper frightens me but I am loathe to speak of it to Father for, to him, he seems reconciled that our union is to be productive and beneficial to both our families. Talk of politic does not interest me; indeed I find it frightfully tedious, empty, full of lost promise.

I have met her and my heart is fit to burst with happiness, albeit a happiness that I may not infect onto others. It is a bittersweet feeling. Rosalie Weaver her name rolls from my tongue and tastes as sweet nectar supped by an honeybee. Her family is new to wealth and untainted from the growing insidiousness of authority which I fear Father and Mother regard as plebeian. We share so much in common but I do not know if my feelings are reciprocated in fashion. Tonight we spoke upon the balcony whilst the men folk smoked and drank their burdens into tomorrow and away. She is a beautiful star; Educated, eloquently spoken and filled with the desire for philanthropy.

Father's words have scorned me and he is insistent that my betrothal shall be completed these coming weeks. A crushing sorrow fills my very soul. It is not within my capacity to retort with harsh words or to show action contrary to his wishes but this course cannot be continued. I should have felt the warmth of the sun outside drying my tears as I ran in desperation but inside I felt only cold submission and sorrow. I shall not allow this to happen and I will resist with every ounce of my essence.

I have met Rosalie and our tryst ended in ambiguity, for I did not have the strength to admit my feelings. I have informed her of my plan to escape the confines of the Ravensmere-Marshthorn Estate and to disappear until I am blessed with acuity as to our future plans together.  Whenever I am filled with melancholy or that when all hope seems lost I shall remember her parting words and fill my heart with courage and conviction. For her safety we will ensure that knowledge of our relationship be kept a closely guarded secret. We parted, yet whilst my heart sank I knew that one day we would be reunited. 

Father wasted no time in his endeavors and I had scarcely disappeared a day before the Hunters were summoned. These are relentless individuals whose loyalty is to gold. Individuals are similarly bought and I have fled the Inn where I had hoped to spend a solitary week before continuing my journey, betrayed by the proprietor and his wife for their thirteen pieces of silver. I do not hold a grudge against them, for in the schemes of men my life means precious little and their newfound wealth will grant them some respite from their poverty. The forest seemed empty but it was my momentary lapse of judgment that I found myself a victim of a poacher’s snare, my pursuers will surely pick the trail from my injuries and my options are dire. I have stumbled to the gates of an old Hospice and have claimed the right of Sanctuary within its walls. I have laid my plans to escape this futile existence of repetition, to disappear within the world as one of the anonymous, a scholar of shunned knowledge to supply myself modest income. Another faceless shadow that drifts upon the winds.

Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Krosenq on March 27, 2023, 12:36:14 PM
Quote
Eamon of Kellee
(https://i.imgur.com/3cT10YO.png)

Name: Eamon of Kellee
Race: Human
Origin: Tepest (Ravenloft)
Class: Warlock/Hexblade/BPA

Bio:

Eamon of Kellee was born and raised in the country of Tepest. Growing up, he was trained as a ranger, learning to survive and thrive in the dangerous wilderness. Despite his love for the outdoors, he eventually chose to abandon his ranger lifestyle in favor of a simpler life as a farmer, working the land with his family by his side.

However, Eamon's peaceful existence was shattered when goblin forces began to threaten the region. Desperate for help, he sought aid in a vivid dream where he encountered a shadow fey creature. The fey tricked him into a pact, bestowing him with powers, but at a terrible cost - his friends, family and loved ones would lose all memories of him. Stripped of his identity and now a stranger to those he held dear, Eamon was consumed by bitterness and a burning desire for revenge against the fey.

Leaving behind his former life, Eamon embarked on a journey to seek powerful weapons and forge alliances with others who shared his cause. As he ventured through treacherous lands, his dark powers grew, and he honed his skills as a fighter. Eamon's travels eventually led him to the libraries of Port-a-Lucine, where he discovered the art of blackpowder and firearms. Intrigued by their potential, he crafted a pistol and later a musket, incorporating these deadly weapons into his arsenal. As Eamon delved deeper into the art of alchemy, he discovered a whole new world of possibilities. Using this knowledge, he was able to create new weapons and improve upon his existing ones.

On a quest for vengeance, he travels the world to learn the skills and amass the tools he needs to blow up the Shadow rift once and for all.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: CanaanEmmanuel on May 12, 2023, 04:09:05 PM
Artyom Xanthus was born to a family of wealthy merchants in the city of Waterdeep. From a young age, he was a troublemaker and a rebel, often getting into fights and causing chaos wherever he went. As he grew older, his rebellious streak only intensified, and he began to seek out more dangerous and forbidden activities.

One fateful night, while wandering the city's back alleys in search of adventure, Artyom stumbled upon a dark ritual being performed by a group of cultists. Fascinated by the strange symbols and otherworldly energies he witnessed, Artyom approached the cultists and begged to be included in their activities.

To his surprise, the cultists were all too eager to welcome him into their ranks. They revealed to him that they worshipped a being known as Nyarlathotep, a Great Old One from beyond the stars who promised them power and knowledge beyond human comprehension. Artyom was intrigued, and soon found himself performing increasingly dangerous and depraved acts in order to prove his devotion to Nyarlathotep.

Eventually, the Great Old One reached out to Artyom directly, offering him a pact. In exchange for his soul, Nyarlathotep promised to grant Artyom immense power and knowledge, as well as access to secrets and magics that no mortal had ever wielded before.

Artyom eagerly accepted the pact, and soon found himself wielding dark magics and summoning eldritch abominations to do his bidding. He became a fearsome warlock, feared and hated by all who knew of his activities. But Artyom didn't care; to him, power and chaos were all that mattered, and he would stop at nothing to claim both.

But one day, Artyom found himself lost in a thick fog, wandering aimlessly until he stumbled upon a mysterious portal. Without hesitation, he stepped through, only to find himself transported to the dark and foreboding realm of Barovia. Trapped in this nightmarish land, Artyom discovered that his powers were greatly diminished, and that he was no longer the master of his own fate.

Undeterred, Artyom set out to uncover the secrets of this new land and find a way to reclaim his power. He aligned himself with a group of adventurers, hoping to use them as pawns in his quest for power and domination. But as time passed, Artyom found himself becoming more and more entrenched in the struggles of the people of Barovia, and began to question whether his lust for power was truly worth the cost.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Krosenq on June 12, 2023, 08:40:23 AM
(https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1036525171168772106/1117390173257351278/Krosenq_crisp_digital_art_of_plain_looking_male_dd_rogue_with_l_ed7bf5b8-5586-45db-9e31-05e9e6b67c05.png)

Name: Warrick Geth
Race: Human
Origin: Hollow World (Mystara)
Class: Rogue

Warrick Geth is a native of Mystara's Hollow World, a strange realm bathed in the constant radiance of an ever-present sun. Here, days do not cycle into nights; instead, time is a steady, unchanging companion, much like the immutable light above. In this land of peculiarities, metals are rare, and society leans on the generous offerings of nature to shape their world. Warrick, too, was a part of this cycle, working as an artisan who skillfully created functional tools and ornaments from resources like bone and crystal.

Suddenly thrust into Barovia, a land of alternating light and shadow, Warrick grapples with the stark contrast of day and night, a concept wholly alien to his lifelong experience. Despite initial disorientation, he finds himself captivated by this mysterious rhythm of existence. He stands at the precipice of a new life, determined to unravel the mysteries of this world and adapt to his new reality.

Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: MistBeagle on August 29, 2023, 08:58:00 PM
Ahem...erm,

Not really sure how I came here through the mists...memories are rather spotty.

Prisoner? How odd...I feel more like a tourist whose visa has expired and lacks a clear exit strategy.

Was that...a joke? Am i funny? Huh.

There I am, Mr. Irrepressible...another drink? Why, certainly...I...think...I like whiskey.

Yes, yes I do. Slainte 's tainte. What did I say? Do I know another language?

My, the moon is bright tonight...

What is WRONG with my fingernails...I thought I'd trimmed them...
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Krosenq on October 25, 2023, 10:51:25 AM
[deleted]
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Maverick on October 27, 2023, 02:18:19 PM
Quote
Danut Solinescu

(https://i.imgur.com/Z5rG1pT.jpg)


Name: Danut Solinescu
Race/Age: Human male, 18
Origin: Barovia
Class: Favored Soul
Diety: Morninglord

Bio:
     When he was born, the night's cold was filled with his wailing cries. Nothing would comfort the child. His mother took him to the outskirts of Krofburg in a basket. Some swore as she knelt over the wailing basket in the snow that she was crying, while others claimed she was praying. Whatever her intentions that night with the newborn boy, the peaks of the golden sun illuminated the sky with its warm tendrils of light. As the sun's rays fell upon the child his wailing stopped. A soft smile spread onto his face and, at last, there was not silence but a child's laughter. Danut Solinescu was always an unusual boy growing up in Krofburg. He would travel to the outskirts of the town, many a time, behind miners to ask questions and help carry their things. During the day he would join his mother who worked tirelessly providing first aid and food to workers. Every morning, without fail, Danut spun in the fields at dawn's wake while laughing and playing in the waking light before staring, closed-eyed, at the sun. Anyone who knew Danut before he left Krofburg knew him as an odd but cheerful boy who always wanted to help. After his mother died at 16, Danut left the mining town in search of answers or maybe comfort to his pain and grief. At the Morninglord churches over Barovia he found at least one of those. Danut returned two years later to Krofburg as a worshiper of the Sun Cult. His mirth and merriment still shine stronger than ever.


Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Hellnaw on November 01, 2023, 03:25:46 PM
(https://i.imgur.com/H3ZvPKp.jpg)

Name: André Sauvageon
Race: Human
Age: 35
Homeland: Souragne
Class: Voodan
Diety: Ovun

Bio:
André used to run with a troublesome gang of practitioners of voodoo, aggressively loyal to the ways of the loa. For awhile they wandered the swamps, causing terror and harm along the way. It was during this time that André became very familiar with Ovun and the powerful mazi surrounding this warrior loa. It wasn't until he met a woman named Rhiannon, who would make him understand the error of his ways. With her, he would escape from his former gang and get married to Rhiannon, and in hiding they started a family together, having a son soon after. This fairytale would be cut short though, when Rhiannon was struck with illness that ended her life five years later, leaving a grieving André to raise his son alone. Seven years later, André's past gang would catch up with him. They strung him up and made him watch as they beat his son to death, and then offered up the corpse to the loa of the dead. When André  woke, he would wake to the horror that is seeing his son restrained, and undead. Taking the mace left to him, and summoning the willpower within him, he  slew his undead son and put him to rest. In an uncontrollable rage, André  charged out into the swamps, mace in hand, a war inside him as he let Ovun take control once again. In his mad rush into the night to find the gang that had taken his son from him, the mist grew thick, and then there was only darkness.

Appearance:
André can be quite imposing, standing at a height of 6'2", a muscular, hardy individual. He has dark brown eyes, a grown out and well-kept mustache and goatee, and not one hair on his head. He'd have a decently pleasant appearance about him if he didn't look so grumpy, but unfortunately he always looks grumpy, even when he isn't. Most times he prefers to keep to himself.
[tl;dr]
He looks like Ving Rhames from Rosewood.
(https://i.imgur.com/H9O0OMk.jpg)(https://i.imgur.com/HRflx7L.jpg)
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Ravenwitch on November 12, 2023, 08:02:24 AM
Name:  Rabelais

Race & Subrace:  Human

Alignment:  Chaotic Evil

Class: Rogue

In Game Avatar: https://64.media.tumblr.com/3b9fbf08d3e4330511f809c7c237917d/5c2b00dd5c376fa8-04/s1280x1920/c060169921382a686924cdf7786722e9bd257a3e.jpg (https://64.media.tumblr.com/3b9fbf08d3e4330511f809c7c237917d/5c2b00dd5c376fa8-04/s1280x1920/c060169921382a686924cdf7786722e9bd257a3e.jpg)

Original Art: https://cdna.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/044/544/500/large/g-h-f-art-studio-1-6.jpg?1640325614  (https://cdna.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/044/544/500/large/g-h-f-art-studio-1-6.jpg?1640325614)

Description:  Rabelais is a slender, yet muscular man in his late twenties. He wears a bright red costume and, occasionally, a white masquerade mask. He has angular features and spiky red hair. There's a sadistic air about him. He is always smiling, but there's no joy in his eyes, only malice and hatred.

Manner of Speaking:  He speaks a lot in a barely coherent way, as if didn't have any filter between his brain and mouth. In the face of danger or if he gets angry, he will randomly scream at the top of his lungs. The words comes out of his mouth like the daggers out of his hands.

Mannerisms:  He can't seem to stand still. When he has to be discreet, his eyebrows and fingers will twitch. Otherwise, he just moves around or stretches. 

Personality: Rabelais is a creepy and unpredictable character. At first, he will appear charming and won't hesitate to stick around with unknown people, but pretty quickly, he will get angry over the smallest things and try to impose his will on others. Fortunately, his exterior weirdness makes it difficult for him to be effectively manipulative. When he realizes that his companions would prefer to see him dead, he will flee, never to be seen again, or so it will seem…

Age: 27

Occupation:  Acrobat in a Dementlieuse circus. Le Cirque de la Lune Rousse. He is also a tightrope walker and knife thrower.
To raise money, he sometimes make acrobatic figures in the streets of Dementlieu.

Financial Status: Poor. He has very little money of his own and share his food and belongings with the circus artists. He stole all of his money and small trinkets from pedestrians during his street performances in the city.

History:
 
- Born in the faubourgs of Dementlieu to a destitute family. He has been sold to the Cirque de la Lune Rousse which was looking for new acrobats after the departure of the old ones.

- He started his training at 6 years old. He was beaten and starved when he couldn't perform perfectly.

- The fortune teller took him under her wing and gave him food in secret. She also taught him how to read and speak eloquently. She had a jealous husband who threatened her regularly. When Rabelais turned 8, she disappeared along with her husband. Since there was traces of struggle and blood marks in her tent, she was probably murdered. Rabelais still misses her to this day.

- Without someone to protect him or to be kind to him, Rabelais toughened up dramatically. He developed a survival of the fittest mentality. When the weakest elements of the circus were punished for their mistakes, he found pleasure in their suffering, because it made him feel powerful.

- During his teenage years, he became increasingly sensible when he felt his superiority was threatened by someone. When he felt humiliated, he either crushed his supposed bully's spirit or eliminated them as discreetly as possible.

- Because of him, several catastrophes happened in the circus over the years:

       - Tigers got loose after the padlock of their cage was filed, little by little.

       - A trapeze artist broke his leg so badly that he had to be amputated. His trapeze had been greased before a show.

       - The magician's girlfriend and assistant was raped and found dead with her throat cut in the nearby woods. Her lover, an acrobat, was also found dead. The magician was suspected of the crime and fired as a consequence.

       - A dwarf was found hanged in the circus tent. Everyone thought it was a suicide.

- During all those years, no one thought of Rabelais as a potential killer, but as his behavior became increasingly unpredictable, the circus artists started to suspect him. They were more careful not to anger him, but Rabelais felt that it wouldn't be long until he, himself, would be disposed of.

- Feeling targeted, he decided to deal the first blow: after his representation, he lit the oil he had previously poured all around the circus tent. The fire became a blaze in just a few minutes. Some people in the public managed to escape along with the artists who were outside before the flames caught. In total, 50 people died, including the majority of circus artists, the ring master and several animals.

- Rabelais left the scene with some food and a lantern. After a couple of hours spent walking on a forest trail, he noticed a thick fog rising, enveloping him, dulling his senses. When he woke up, he was near a Vistani camp, in Barovia.

Reputation: Rabelais is the kind of people whose evil tendencies shows physically. Even in the circus, he was disliked and feared due to his violent and paranoid behavior. Outside of this circle, he is seen at best as a freak, at worst, as a straight out menace.
 
Distinguishing Feature:  His ginger spiky hair with spots of baldness on each side of the forehead.
 
Clothing: Rabelais wears his acrobat outfit: a bright red costume with puffed sleeves and puffed trousers. His shoes are in thin leather for better mobility. He sometimes wears a white mask as an accessory.

Eye Color: Light brown.

Skin Color: Limestone.

Complexion: Rabelais’ skin as aged prematurely due to early make up application. He has wrinkles at the corner of his mouth and on his forehead. He also has some scars and burn marks on his body due to the abuse he suffered as a child.

Height: 168 centimeters / 66 inches

Voice: Erratic and high pitched.

In Game: Rabelais will join any group, but won't get along at all with Good aligned characters, who will quickly realize how dangerous he can be for their own safety and those of the people they want to help. He will be deliberately insulting towards nice and "weak" characters, but obedient towards the "strong" and merciless Evil aligned characters.
Title: Rocky Shoals
Post by: Rocky Shoals on November 13, 2023, 01:52:55 AM
Rocky Shoals

For as deep as he can dive into the waters of his memory, Braves-The-Rocky-Shoals' life has consisted of passing from one dream state into another.

Forever awakening into a dreamscape is the norm for all who dwell within the Nightmare Lands, for that dreaded island and the surrounding waters are always a chaotic, hallucinatory backdrop to whatever passes for everyday life during waking hours. To the inhabitants, including the native Abber Nomads, the only thing constant, is change. Many who were not born to the Nightmare Lands would lose their minds in such an environment, but for the Abber, anything else would seem unbearably abnormal.

Coastlines, by definition, are marked by constant change. So it is not at all suprising that a small tribe of Abber Nomad trappers and spear-fishers chose to wander along the western coast of the island in pursuit better yields. For generations, this tribe wandered the coast and, like the very land itself, they ebbed and flowed in fortune both good and ill. Rarely did they ever travel further inland, and never did they venture beyond the treacherous Rocky Shoals.

During a harsh season of ill fortune when the yields from spear and trap were barely enough to feed the tribe, one foolhardy youth dared to break the taboo of swimming among the shoals in hopes of finding more fish. From the eldest of the coastal nomads came stories from the darkening waters of their memory about others who had tried to do so and were never seen again. But to everyone's great surprise, the youth returned with a large blue marlin just before dusk.

The tribe was troubled by this and discussed the matter until the moon rose high in the sky. Although the youth had broken one of their oldest taboos, he had survived and the nourishing fish he offered was sorely needed by both young and old alike. In the end, the youth rose and spoke of a harrowing journey through the dark water and shifting stones that he had survived by sheer good fortune alone. Then the elders, doubtlessly prompted in no small part by their hunger, agreed that the youth should not be punished and that the fish was acceptable to eat.

Furthermore, they declared that this deed had proved his manhood and as a sign of this right of passage, the youth was given the name “Braves-The-Rocky-Shoals”. But the name was a great irony which amused them all, for  Braves-The-Rocky-Shoals was not at all like the terrifying place from which his name was taken. Rather, he was a soft-spoken soul with no intent to harm anyone, despite his very imposing physical bearing.

Braves-The-Rocky-Shoals became respected as one of the tribes best spear-fishers and came to be respected for his sharp mind and adaptability even more so than his gigantic size. But his gentle nature, soft voice and reclusiveness always set him apart from his people. In times of great want, he would again live up to his name and break tribal taboo by daring the treacherous shoals for the good of his people. For this reason, peculiar superstitions drifted around him like the clouds accumulate atop the highest peaks of the island.

In the waters of  Braves-The-Rocky-Shoals' memory, his last plunge into the deeps in violation of the old taboo was met with an unexpected turn. As he approached the shoals, he was struck by what he feared might be a shifting ridge of stone, but when he looked down he saw the great Rainbow Serpent itself coiled in the waters below.  In an instant, the serpent swallowed him up in its mighty jaws and  Braves-The-Rocky-Shoals knew only darkness and pain.

Awakening once more, he found that the serpent had shat him out into a terrifying new dream such as he had never known.

Apart from the sea, this new dreamscape was persistent and unchanging. The wilderness was still and stifled and the city skylines always offered the same view from afar. To him, the entire place had the slothful weight of sacrificing the weightless freedom of water and coming ashore after a long time swimming, but drowning in the air with each breath at the same time. No one in this new nightmare could even speak the language of dreams, so now he has come to be known only as “Rocky Shoals”

Now Rocky is alone in a world that is utterly alien to him and each day is a struggle to survive both the threats of the landscape as well as challenges of learning the customs of this bizarre dream realm. While he is grateful to know that he will awaken to his homeland whenever he slumbers, he is often lost upon arrival. Oftentimes, he might hear his tribe's voices upon the wind or see them at a great distance, but he can draw no nearer to them no matter how fast he runs. Despite his struggles, in the end, he always falls once again into this dream of a detestably unchanging and constant place called The Core.


Edit: This bio is a work in progress
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: Tirinor on November 13, 2023, 09:50:40 PM
Rumors swirl in the shadows of Har-Thelen about Tirinor Meliamne, a figure shaped by the unforgiving rigors of Black Robe training at the Tower of High Sorcery. Whispers speak of a training so ruthless it left indelible scars on his psyche. The enclave's arcane halls, once a haven of elven wisdom, became a crucible for Tirinor's ambition, each trial forging him into the enigmatic war mage he is today.

Among the tales, a darker episode emerges—a military incident that shrouds Tirinor's past in mystery. The rumor mongers weave a narrative of a fateful patrol, a unit plunged into chaos as shadow demons descended upon the serene woods. Tirinor, gravely injured, bore witness to a tragic lapse in concentration from a fellow student, a figure with whom he shared a deep romantic connection. In that harrowing moment, the defensive spell shattered, leading to the deaths of half a dozen elves, including Tirinor's first teacher.

The whispers linger on the consequences of that incident, of a shamed and almost expelled Black Robe. The details remain veiled, obscured by the clandestine nature of the Tower of High Sorcery. Despite the shadows cast upon his record, Tirinor barely managed to graduate. Instead of casting him out, the enclave dispatched him to Barovia, an ominous post that adds an eerie layer to his mysterious narrative. The rumor mongers revel in the enigma surrounding Tirinor Meliamne, a Black Robe whose past is etched in the shadows, waiting to be unraveled by those daring enough to seek the truth.
Title: Re: Post your character bio here
Post by: RollPlayerPiano on December 14, 2023, 11:58:22 PM
Rumor has it that little Luminita Luca, that irrepressible girl from the orphanage, has finally returned from her studies abroad. She is now teaching at the same orphanage where she grew up but according to some she has volunteered to work for only room and board. Although, no one seems certain as to why she ever returned at all.
Title: Vallentin
Post by: Shadowtim3 on December 28, 2023, 05:40:35 PM
Vallentin came from Cerilia. Being of a minor clan within the Anuierian empire, his focus was on his own rise to power. Believing that power comes from knowledge, he eagerly consumes any and all knowledge he can get his hands on. Be it as mundane as random trivia, or as important as state secrets he can actively use. He became an adventurer to seek out this knowledge and hopefully rise in the world. That dream didn't die when the Mists took him. Though his clan name is unknown here, he plans to work towards getting it noticed and rising in this world ranks. If what he was told about everyone being trapped here is true.