Within the swirling Mist (IC) > Biographies

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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!

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?

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.

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.

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.


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