Author Topic: Post your character bio here  (Read 74556 times)

Ripkill

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Re: Post your character bio here
« Reply #25 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.
« Last Edit: January 28, 2007, 02:23:30 PM by Ripkill »
"So I looked, and behold, a Pale horse.  And the name of him who sat on it was Death, and Hades followed with him.  And power was given to them over a fourth of the earth, to kill with sword, with hunger, with death, and by the beasts of the earth..."

GeordieSte

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Re: Post your character bio here
« Reply #26 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
« Last Edit: January 29, 2007, 04:15:53 PM by GeordieSte »


Mother Samira..  Devout follower of the Dawnbringer.

Dakota Strider

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Johan Miklos
« Reply #27 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.
Faithless is he who says farewell when the road darkens.

J.R. Tolkien

Taty

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Re: Post your character bio here
« Reply #28 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.....
« Last Edit: May 01, 2007, 07:36:37 PM by Cindi »

Elo-EF

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Re: Post your character bio here
« Reply #29 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.
« Last Edit: June 25, 2007, 09:14:11 PM by Elo-EF »

cptpatriot

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Mileena Soto of the Order of Light
« Reply #30 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...

Annabelle Lee

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Re: Post your character bio here
« Reply #31 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".


Annabelle Lee

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Re: Post your character bio here
« Reply #32 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))

Rod-of-Frost

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Re: Post your character bio here
« Reply #33 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.
Orillion Lyansane, jack of all trades and master of none.

"There're too many stupid people in this world today and not enough sharp pointy objects to take care of'em." - Orillion

Inviktus

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Adrian Nicolae
« Reply #34 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.


Ellana Twiggy

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Re: Post your character bio here
« Reply #35 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. . .

Ciaran999

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Re: Post your character bio here
« Reply #36 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”.
« Last Edit: September 25, 2007, 02:59:17 PM by Ciaran999 »
Dramatis Personæ:

Thanks to emptyanima for the marvelous siggies!
Damiana Mavra | Erebeth Moravec | Sighildr Rødsävrd | Ravenna Varkath

TheWanderer

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Re: Post your character bio here
« Reply #37 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... 






Asisa

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Re: Post your character bio here
« Reply #38 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.
Pierre Lesang - Dementlieuse Priest of the Morning Lord

vacancy

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Re: Post your character bio here
« Reply #39 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.
« Last Edit: March 06, 2008, 12:08:34 AM by vacancy »

Certron Romanoff

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Re: Post your character bio here
« Reply #40 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.

Azrun Deturi

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Re: Post your character bio here
« Reply #41 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…

Mrjunkie

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Re: Post your character bio here
« Reply #42 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.


inuyashwannab

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Jerolyn Rayne
« Reply #43 on: July 22, 2008, 05:38:52 AM »


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

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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.



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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.
« Last Edit: August 12, 2008, 05:10:13 PM by inuyashwannab »

inuyashwannab

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Aceline Lanner
« Reply #44 on: July 27, 2008, 08:46:48 AM »


((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.



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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.
« Last Edit: August 12, 2008, 05:12:17 PM by inuyashwannab »

Psykris

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Re: Post your character bio here
« Reply #45 on: August 30, 2008, 07:15:55 AM »
Loke Paleskin
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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.
Regards from Kris

A picture will come!

Wids

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Re: Post your character bio here
« Reply #46 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


"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


"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."



"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


"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
« Last Edit: September 13, 2008, 05:37:07 AM by Wids »

Hades

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Re: Post your character bio here
« Reply #47 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.
"Alexander the Destroyer"

"In a closed society where everyone is guilty, the greatest crime is getting caught. In a world full of thieves, the greatest sin is stupidity" ~ Hunter S. Thompson

arrmuth

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Re: Post your character bio here
« Reply #48 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.
 

vlowe72

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Re: Post your character bio here
« Reply #49 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.


And now ladies and gentlemen comes the time where I relieve you of the burden of your failed and useless lives.  But if you gotta go, go with a smile!