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[Heresyteller]

Yolven of Tribe Naiat, the Cursedborn

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.

[Limine]

Saskia d'Auvergne

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.

[Morrslieb]

[The setting is based on the Gothic PC game series]

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.

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...

[Heresyteller]

Remy Balzac, The Apprentice

"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.

[diestormlie]

Ness Bana Anstapa, an Elf born of Waterdeep

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.

[BigBoss]

Derico Blake of the Unready

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.

[Syphiralae]

[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...

[Sado]

[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.

[Syphiralae]

[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.

[Baliverne]

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...

[JustMonika]

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

[Ogretime]

.

[Monktrus]

-

[JustMonika]

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.

[divine-darkness]

Khelgar


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.

[Facilis]

Richter (Fang), a slave from Athas



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.

[Basil Fawlty]

The story of the Jarhead clan.

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 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.

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* 



// 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 .. liking the place here.. finding my ways..

Enjoy..

[Morrslieb]

Vladimir von Servovich

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.

[Sammylix]

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...

[RumbleBR]

"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.

[Heresyteller]

LUCIEN DE BELLEROSE

THE BLACK ROSE

 

"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

[Alemax]

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.

[crimeindex]

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!

[Andragorin]

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...

[Raven Credale]

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.