The crowd's murmur fell silent as a radiant woman stepped forward. Her highly polished armor reflected the sun and lent a glow to her that seemed to emanate from her golden skin. Her hair flared red and fell in curls around the plate. Those who looked into her azure eyes swore that she gave them a blessing, but her lips never moved.
"I come to lend my sword to what cause may need it. Pelor has blessed me to be here amongst you today."
Her voice never rose above a whisper, yet all around her heard, and heard the silent amazement of the other onlookers.
"I am Erris, a humble Kalashtar servant of the holy sun, born into lands far away from your reckoning. Let me be among those to serve the greater good and I will shine Pelor's light where needed."
The crowd looked at each other in amazement. Who was this dream in bathed in gold?
Erris prayed to be let in...and prayed to let the madness at the reliquary be confined to the past.
Background
Erris was the only child of two Kalashtar heroes on the world of Eberron. She was raised by various friends and relatives as her parents fought off ever increasing threats. Fearing for Erris' safety before a battle with an arch-fiend in the Nine Hells, the couple left their child in the care of a friend they met in the most peaceful world they ever found in their travels. This woman, Gaielldria, took in the child and raised her in a small village that house a large temple of Pelor. 14 years after Erris was left here, she still hasn't heard what happened to her parents.
Erris became enthralled with the teachings of Pelor. The priests at the abbey recognized her obvious devotion and unique potential to be a divine instrument of their God and sent her to a nearby reliquary that specialized in training holy warriors. Erris developed as a fierce warrior, utilizing her blinding presence and beauty to strike down the occasional evil that arose in the community. Soon after she finished her training, the stoic Erris was overcome with an unrelenting feeling of remorse about her parents and experienced wild mood swings. No one had told her about the temporary madness that comes with being a Kalashtar, and she had never experienced anything this severe. She fled into town and binged on wine, ending the night in the bed of a strange man. She returned home to the reliquary and cursed her elders, screaming, before collapsing into tears.
Erris apologized and left the reliquary the next morning to seek knowledge of what overtook her and to seek Pelor's guidance in how she should help people in her adopted land. She hopes joining the auxiliaries will enable her to do both.
Appearance and Mannerisms
Erris is stunningly gorgeous. Her skin is a natural golden tan and her hair is an auburn mane of wild curls. She is tall and slight. Her telepathy is constantly on, causing those near her to turn her way and be enthralled for reasons they can't quite explain. She hides her emotions and true thoughts well, though. Erris projects calm, but oddly has trouble being still. She fears that staying in one place for too long or sticking to routine is what triggers her mood swings. She has only had one bad episode, but has struggled with herself to contain several minor ones. Erris is also a bit of a clutz, misjudging her own size and tripping over her feet.
Erris can be a bit annoying in overly praising and thanking Pelor, but her natural charm and beauty cause most to overlook this, even those not enamored of the gods.
An eladrin with a long glaive strapped to his back steps forward from the crowd. With a flourish and a grin, he half-mockingly bows towards the courtier and says, "Well, if ya'd like, I suppose I could offer my services to ya. Weylan Whitemoon, at your service! I should warn ya, though...I don't come cheap. But don't you worry, 'cuz after the King sees what a great job I've done, he'll probably give ya a promotion or somethin' just for findin' me!"
Background:
As a child, Weylan quickly made a name for himself as a trouble-maker and trickster. Displaying a penchant for pranks unusual among the rest of his peers, he got himself into more trouble on his own that all the rest of his friends combined. His parents sent him to a swordmage academy, in hopes that the rigid rules would hammer out his attitude, and for a while it seemed to be working. In reality, Weylan was just biding his time. He had always loved teleportation, since it offered him a way to escape just about any mischief he got himself into, and the academy was an excellent place to polish his skills. Eventually, his prankster ways got the better of him, and after a series of escapades, he was finally expelled from the school.
As he was being escorted back home, he found his chance to escape, and took it. After wandering, lost in the forest for a few days, Weylan found himself in the presence of a fey spirit. In exchange for leading him to safety, the spirit required him to sacrifice a portion of his soul. Desparate, Weylan agreed, and he was instantly transported to the edge of the forest. Immediately, he heard a voice whisper in his mind, "It is done, then...The pact is made, and now, we are bound for all eternity. My power is yours, and I finally have a physical vessel with which to experience the world..."
Rather than head home, Weylan was overcome with the urge to travel the countryside, and to experience everything life had to offer. He soon realized that the spirit he had formed his pact with possessed a lust for travel and exploration that bordered on fanatical. He didn't mind, though, since going home only meant that his parents would try to send him somewhere else to suppress his...interests... So, feeling refreshed by his new sense of power and direction, he wandered to the nearest town, where he immediately saw a crowd of people all gathered around a well dressed mand holding up a scroll or proclamation of some sort....
Mannerisms & Appearance:
Running from the crowd of people you've just pranked, conned, or stolen from is a good way to keep in shape, and Weylan is a testament to that. While he's a fast runner (when he's not just teleporting through walls or into the treetops), he's an even faster talker, often spinning the accusations of him around with a witty remark or distracting gesture.
Weylan usually wears a hooded cloak, so that his short white hair doesn't give him away during any sort of night-time raid or scheme. His weapon of choice is a long glaive that he took with him as he fled his escort from the academy, but he carries a small dagger, sheathed in his boot, for times when the bulkiness of a polearm would be more detriment than help. His fair skin clearly marks him as a member of the eladrin, or elven, race, and he has a pair of expressive, blue eyes.
Other Notes:
This character was kind of inspired by the dragon article about the teleporter warlock/wizard a while back. He'll probably function more as a striker than a defender with a little crontroller sprinkled in, focusing on teleportation powers and effects.
A Dragonborn clad in chainmail made his way through the crowd and to where names were being taken.
"Morning," the cleric greeted the man. "I'm here to save the village and stab everything else with the pointy end of this spear thingy. Except you, of course."
Background
Akra had always been a bit... unhinged. No one's entirely sure why, though the neighbors claim that his parents must have been 'on something'. Nonetheless, he proved to be very good with spears, so he was not at least without honor.
His parents went to sleep one day and woke up the next to find their son had become a cleric in the name of Avandra. However, he seemed adamant to stay despite their urging for him to join the military. Akra shrugged and said that the reason he was so 'crazy' was because he could hear an angel of Avandra speaking to him. His parents gave up at that point and finally wrote him off as a loon.
Not that Akra cared. He was having too much fun stabbing things in the name of Avandra.
Mannerisms
Akra is needless to say, fucking crazy. He jokes about stabbing things and says whatever comes to mind. He often creates fake words and metaphors to get his point across. If he starts to make sense, it either means you've gone insane or you've spent way too much time around him.
Amaryllis has striking features, even for a Kalashtar. When asked he says that Melora blessed him with his features as she blesses the world with it's beauty. As she blesses the most dangerous of creatures with the most vibrant colors. His hair is as silver as the moon's rays. His eyes colored with the vibrant pinks of the lights of the northern sky. Nature's beauty is all around us, and those who choose to deny it will wither. Of course, not by his hand. Amaryllis does not wish to defile his enemy, only to allow his allies to do the defiling for him. For how can one believe in life if they bring about death? Amaryllis is quite friendly and personable when relaxed, and when asked about Melora's abundance will gladly speak her praises. Yet when in combat his persona takes on that of a focused warrior. He will not let his allies be fell, only his enemies. Those beside him have said his eyes glimmer with inner fire, but he denies taking pleasure in such things. He also believes that he can talk to animals and plants, they just choose to ignore him.
Background:
Amaryllis was born into a small village on the outskirts of a small city. He lived his live in close contact with the forest that grew around him, as many of the people did. His parents were well known in the village for their talents both in hunting and supporting the community. As Amaryllis grew it became more and more apparent that he preferred the passive life as opposed to his parents aggressive natures. His brother, however thrived on the life through adventure, and the thrill of the hunt. His parents grew to ignore him, so he turned to the one thing in life that would always be stable, Nature. He began to read the teachings of Melora. He secluded himself in the wild until eventually his parents began to stop caring. Once he was old enough, he ran away to support himself by living off the land that was always a home and a friend. He's spent much of his life in isolation, which lead to a bit of....eccentricities in his behavior.
He wandered into town a few years ago after he received a "message" from Melora (In the form of a decrepit elm tree) that someone important needed protection. He needed to be ready...
In the pub:
Amaryllis stood from his chair. The white robes that enveloped seemed to cast a glow on those around him. As he pulled back his hood it was as if everyone in the room felt more confident in themselves. Even the sullen face of courtier who had obviously been put on a bum rap because of the comment he made behind his commanding officer's back seemed to brighten; before he realized what was happening and quickly regained control of his mood. He'll remember not to let that happen again. The patron's of the bar seemed to stop for a moment, then they realized that their conversations had fallen away and the ruckus continued, with many a "Wait, so where was I? Oh right! That damned bullywug!"
Amaryllis walked over to the courtier. His gait a graceful yet strident pace. The chainmail he wore below his robes gave a slight rattle with every step.
He spoke concisely,"I'd like an application please."
"Ha!", the courtier scoffed,"I'm sure. Have you even a weapon?"
"I have no need for weapons, Melora will guide my allies."
The courtier stared.
"But I have this just in case." Amaryllis quickly added as he drew a seemingly dainty mace from below his vestiments. It was more like a stick than a weapon.
"Good luck swinging that, pumpkin." The courtier lloked Amaryllis over,"Whatever, it's not my life your gambling with," and handed him a piece of parchment.
A man walked with little resistance through the crowd, clad in enough Plate to seemingly cover a warhorse. His tapered ears identified him as a Half-Elf.
"I'll take the assignment." He said simply with an outstretched hand.
Portrait:
Background:
Born in a populus town in Hayven, Matrim acts as 'human' as many men themselves. However the small differences in manner inherent of being a half-elf made him not persue friendships as much as others, and he grew up a loner by many standards.
Quick to join the King's military when he discovered his thrist for battle, Matrim quickly reached the point where the only thing holding from back from leadership was a lack of experience, despite holding himself as a better warrior than most Sargeants.
Rather than flounder as a recruit for a few decades to please the narrow-minded generals, Matrim decided to become an adventurer to placate his thrist for battle and victory.
Appearence/Mannerisms:
Matrim gives off a air of calm stone-faced tenacity that many find difficult to ignore. While many say he is quiet and passive, he believes that he only talks and acts when it is needed. He takes the matter of his faith not as conscientiously as other Paladins may do; he believes in the test of battle itself, and sees Kord as a prime example of will rather than someone to worship devoutly.
He defies the usual definition of a charismatic person, rather, he knows what to say and when, to make a man see reason. He does not open up to others easily, but is quick to take lead.
He moves as if ready to strike at any time, but not without purpose or recklessly. In combat, he stands steadfast and immovable.
Here's mine: Chester, the Dwarven (Halfling) Aerialist Rogue
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the wagon that Chester had hitched into Tanis in finally pulled up to the courtyard of the Guard barracks. With a wave to the driver, Chester was off, scurrying through the crowd. Word of the new auxiliary recruitment had taken its time in reaching the forest, and it was a full days wagon ride from there to Tanis; Chester hoped he wasn't late.
Entering the hall, he saw the mass of applicants was still large, despite the fact that the guard reps seemed to be packing things up. He rolled beneath the legs of a massive dragonborn, drawing a snort from huge creature. Regaining his feet, he bounded towards a stack of crates and leapt. Planting one diminutive foot onto the top of the pile, he launched himself over the line of applicants, and landed directly on the table, to the shock of the clerks finishing the day's work. With a flourish, he dropped his application onto the top of the pile.
"Chester's the name, and it is your lucky day, m' good sirs. From traps to trolls and everything in between, I'm your man!"
Background
Chester comes from a family of traders. For generations, they've made their living ferrying goods along the rivers that crisscross the Forest of the Fey via riverboat. As a child, he hung on every word the traveling storytellers his clan hosted would tell around the fires at night, and he has always hungered for news from the world outside. His family wasn't surprised when he said he was off for the city of Tanis to answer the call for auxiliaries, and simply wished him well and asked Avandra to watch over their boy. His reflexes and athletic skills have been honed to a razors edge by a life spent on sometimes unstable decks, and his knack for mechanics comes from coaxing stubborn locks along the river into behaving properly. He's sure his skills would be useful in the King's service, and he isn't exactly modest about it.
"May I suggest," says a man who had been leaning unnoticed against the wall, "that you send someone that is not all about flash? Big magic is all well and good, but there are times when you need a more delicate touch. We don't know yet what kind of mission we are in for, true, but if it had been simply to kill some goblins the regular troops would be used. I have a feeling that we'll need more than bright swords and big explosions."
Background:
Nall doesn't like people who use magic, especially flashy magic. His father was a powerful mage and researcher at an Elven magic academy, an academy Nall hoped to one day attend. But he had no aptitude for magic, arcane or divine, and was refused admittance.
He found that he did have an aptitude for another, more subtle, seldom used type of magic, shadow magic. He joined one of the secret guilds in Oderfund, and learned the craft, but he did not tell his father, for he believed that his father would not approve. To his father, Nall was a bitter dissapointment.
Two years ago, Nall's father was part of an expedition the academy sent out. It was supposed to return six months ago, but did not, and there has been no communication since the expedition left. At least not that the academy was willing to tell Nall about. Not only had magic abandoned him, but it had also taken Nall's father, or so he reasoned. So Nall doesn't like magic.
Nall set out to find his father, and has traced the expedition as far as Tanis, but the trail has gone cold. They could have set out via ship from the port, or traveled into the Dwarven lands. He thinks that perhaps by joining the military he can unearth more information about his father's lost expedition, and find the man.
An enormous minotaur wades slowly and patiently through the crowd, carefully moving those around him so he does not hurt them. A massive axe, its head like a saw, hangs over his shoulders. He approaches the clerk and looks down upon him before speaking in a deep rumble. "If it is trouble you are expecting, or any kind of battle, then you should send the strongest warriors" he says, picking the clerk up between his thumb and forefinger to look him in the face. "That would be me" he says before depositing the clerk back down on the ground. "I am Asteron, and I am a warrior of power and skill."
Background:
Asteron grew up far outside of civilization, in a large forest in the middle of the human kingdom. He had contact with few others besides his family and the small tribe he was part of, and so only knows his way of life. Upon turning 18, he was sent into the world to learn more about it, so that he might better himself and return to the tribe with new knowledge and experience (something an isolated group always needs). Having grown up in a small society, he tends to be very trusting of others, and expects them to watch his back as he will watch theirs. The totem of his tribe hangs from his belt, and he has a subconscious habit of rubbing it whenever he is not fighting or actively doing something else.
While on this pilgrimage, he came across recruiting posters for the auxiliaries, and thought that they seemed interesting. He decided that combat within a real military force might show him new strategies and techniques to employ once he returns to his tribe, and so he resolved to sign up for the auxiliaries.
Guess I'll put in a second submission if that's allowed? I made a Genasi with one of the new manifestations that came out last month but aren't in the CB yet.
Vard, Voidsoul Tactical Warlord
Background:
Vard was born worse than an outcast, he was an abomination, touched by darkness. He comes from a small encampment of Windsoul Genasi living in the Rocktooth Mountains. The Windoul are a beautiful blue, and able to navigate the difficult mountain passes by flying. Vard, however, is completely black, with lines of complete void etched into his skin. He is unable to fly like the rest of his people.
He had to work much harder than any of the others when the nomadic encampments moved, actually climbing the ridges that the others simply flew up. He was not bullied, however, because this work made him stronger than most of the other young Genasi. However, as soon as he thought himself able, he left the encampment and struck out on his own.
He found that in the wide world, he was actually shunned less than he was at home, because the outsiders thought he was simply a different kind of Genasi, and not one touched by the Abyss. He found that he was best at work that utilized his strength, and soon learned that he was a natural leader and tactician. The few Genasi he has met have shunned him, and refuse to work with him, and sometime even attack him.
He has decided to try to enlist in the military so that he can protect those that are treated as less than in the way he was as a child. He just hopes that neither the recruiter nor any of his commanding officers are Genasi.
' As always when their class interests are at stake, the capitalists can dispense with noble sentiments like the right to free speech or the struggle against tyranny.'
Powerpuppiesdrinking coffee in themountain cabinRegistered Userregular
edited November 2009
I haven't made my decision yet, so if SuperRuper wants to add in a background and Kevin Brown wants to make an app, I'll consider them. No extension of the submission deadline, I'll decide whenever I have time, so get them in quick!
"Yeah, buddy, I s'ppose yer right. I ain't the sharpest thing in the room. So, about you go ahead and try convincin' my axe of the same, yeah?"
Detective Krakrash (a title he insists on, and certainly has earned) has been living in Tanis, to hear him say it, "Fer so damn long that the smell of this rotten little town hardly even bothers me anymore." His street smarts, tenacity and passion for meting out justice to the unjust have been a boon to the town guard, assisting them in settling domestic crimes and allowing them to focus more attention on defending against incursions.
A reputation of salty, gruff and unkind typically precedes the detective (...something else he certainly has earned), though it's become almost endearing to many of the townsfolk by now. He's the guy you know you go to for help in Tanis, even if you won't be getting it with a smile and a pat on the shoulder.
Personality:
Torfram loves Tanis. Despite every ill word he tends to mutter about the town, he has nothing but admiration for the ambitiousness and can-do attitude that the largely human population has here, and he has decided that it is his mission to help nurture this lone candle in the dark.
His snarly demeanor and bluntness mask a dauntless desire to help the unfortunate, bring comfort (if of a different sort of brand) to victims and deliver criminals to either a jail cell or whatever deity they worship (their choice, really). His work in Tanis is his expression of this desire.
Picture:
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' As always when their class interests are at stake, the capitalists can dispense with noble sentiments like the right to free speech or the struggle against tyranny.'
“Excuse me, pardon me,” said a voice as its source pushed his way through the crowd. Those close enough turned to its source, a curse on the tips of their tongues as they wondered who this person was that thought themselves so important as to cut in front of everyone else. However when they saw who the voice belonged to, they closed their mouths and step aside. What looked like a cave elf with ashen grey skin, and pitch black eyes pushed his way towards the desk.
“My name is Robaki and I am interested in participating in this task if it pleases you,” placing his hands on his desk, the drow revenant gave his most diplomatic smile, “I have an extensive knowledge of the natural world and how to control its powers to my benefit. I’m sure you will find my talents most ben....”
The revenants words trailed off as several worms slipped out of the sleeves of his robes and began slithering along the courtiers desk. “I’m sorry they tend to get away from me on occasion.” A small pinprick of crimson light flashed within the revenants blackened pupils, and the worms all slithered over to his hand, merging in with his leathery flesh. “Now than where do I need to sign?”
Background:
Robaki does not know who he was in his past life. The first thing he remembers is waking up within a cave illuminated by faint torchlight. He was lying on the ground and all around him where the corpses of other elves, as well as a few humans and dwarves. All the corpses had been decaying for a while now, as maggots and others insects covered and devoured their bodies. It was at that moment that Robaki looked down and to his horror saw that his legs where covered in insects. However the moment the moment he thought of the damage done to his legs all the insects began to congregate together and formed into a set of legs for the newly awakened revenant. For the next couple hours, through trial and experimentation, Robaki realised he could convert his entire body or even portions of himself into a swarm of insects or rodents at his choosing.
Still not sure as to what he was the revenant eventually left the cave and began walking in a random direction through the underground cave systems he found himself within. During this journey he encountered several of its hostile inhabitants but he learned he could control the natural energies around him as well as use his new shapeshifting abilities to defend himself. As he journey through the underground systems he tried to remember who he was but his memory was completely blank. The only thing he could remember was a name, “Robaki” thinking it was his own name, he adopted it.
Eventually the revenant came upon a cave elf city. The first thing he did was find the local shamans and spiritual leaders, believing that if anyone was able to help him find out who or what he was that it would be them. Unfortunately their response was less then favourable. He was branded a “abomination of nature” and was chased out of the city. He was met with the same situation in any underground elf city that he came upon, and so he went to the surface world, hoping to find out what he could under the sun and moons watchful eye.
Mannerisms & Appearance:
Due the years of being treated with hostility, Robaki has come to really on his intimidating presence to help him through social situations. He likes to use his shapeshifting abilities to aid him in these “scare tactics,” however he does have the common sense to know when such actions will hinder his progress rather than assist him. Due to the persecution he has endured he is distrustful of most elves. He is currently trying to find out more about his kind, and who he used to be before he was reborn.
At a quick glance Robaki looks like most cave elves, with the exception that his skin is more of an ashen gray over their black skin. On closer inspection though his skin has a more leather like feel and texture to it, with rough dark scales appearing on his flesh near the end of his limbs. His face is inexpressive, and whenever he choose to show an emotion through his facial reactions it comes of more as a mason carving of an emotion over genuine feelings.
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3cl1ps3I will build a labyrinth to house the cheeseRegistered Userregular
edited November 2009
Shamefully late submission, because I came up with this idea and thought it was cool.
A knife comes flying out of the darkness of the rafters supporting the hall's roof and thuds into the wall just above the courier's head, quivering slightly. "You want someone to get into a town unseen and find answers? I'm your man" comes a voice from the darkness of the rafters.
A dark shape drops and lands on its hands, deftly moving into a back handspring and then a back flip. He lands on his feet and then bows. "Cael Shadowstep at your service; master infiltrator, assassin, and thief extraordinaire." He performs a front handspring and somersaults forward, popping up on his feet in front of the courier. "I can guarantee that I will find out what has occurred, and that any who are there will be ignorant of my presence in its entirety"
He gives a devilish grin and pulls the knife from above the courier's head, sheathing it. "And, if anyone does see me, I'm more than able to silence them forever."
Background:
Cael was born the son of a pair of wealthy nobles (although he doesn't know this). Unpopular among their subjects, an assassin was sent to kill them as they slept; an elven assassin, to be exact. A cold killer he may have been, but he could not bring himself to leave the baby Cael to grow up without parents. He stole him away and raised him as his own, simply telling Cael that he had found him on the outskirts of the forest in which he lived.
Cael, of course, grew up learning the arts of the thief and the assassin and eventually went into business on his own, stealing items of value or killing persons of interest for those who had the coin to pay. His lifestyle has taken him throughout all the different parts of the kingdom, as he tends to avoid staying in one place for too long (since eventually people tend to notice that the spree of thefts and the occasional murder coincide with the arrival of that dark haired man...).
It so happened that one of his clients has asked him to kill one of the King's Advisors, someone who never leaves the court and is under the watch of the Guard at almost all times. Seeing no easy way to infiltrate the palace and kill him without dying himself, Cael thought of a better plan: infiltrate the Guard, earn his trust, and kill him without being noticed. Heck, he'd even have a commission in the Guard, which would bring him some respectability and a steady income flow, and if he didn't get caught he could stay on as a Guard, at least until he got bored with it.
Trying to figure out how to go about doing this, he one day saw a poster for the Auxiliaries, and knew that this was his chance to get into the Guard and get closer to his target.
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Powerpuppiesdrinking coffee in themountain cabinRegistered Userregular
edited November 2009
Well, this wasn't an easy decision. Enough fantastic apps that I could have filled two parties without ever making it down to even a mediocre submission. But there's only five slots, so without further ado, the auxilliaries:
Posts
The crowd's murmur fell silent as a radiant woman stepped forward. Her highly polished armor reflected the sun and lent a glow to her that seemed to emanate from her golden skin. Her hair flared red and fell in curls around the plate. Those who looked into her azure eyes swore that she gave them a blessing, but her lips never moved.
"I come to lend my sword to what cause may need it. Pelor has blessed me to be here amongst you today."
Her voice never rose above a whisper, yet all around her heard, and heard the silent amazement of the other onlookers.
"I am Erris, a humble Kalashtar servant of the holy sun, born into lands far away from your reckoning. Let me be among those to serve the greater good and I will shine Pelor's light where needed."
The crowd looked at each other in amazement. Who was this dream in bathed in gold?
Erris prayed to be let in...and prayed to let the madness at the reliquary be confined to the past.
Background
Erris became enthralled with the teachings of Pelor. The priests at the abbey recognized her obvious devotion and unique potential to be a divine instrument of their God and sent her to a nearby reliquary that specialized in training holy warriors. Erris developed as a fierce warrior, utilizing her blinding presence and beauty to strike down the occasional evil that arose in the community. Soon after she finished her training, the stoic Erris was overcome with an unrelenting feeling of remorse about her parents and experienced wild mood swings. No one had told her about the temporary madness that comes with being a Kalashtar, and she had never experienced anything this severe. She fled into town and binged on wine, ending the night in the bed of a strange man. She returned home to the reliquary and cursed her elders, screaming, before collapsing into tears.
Erris apologized and left the reliquary the next morning to seek knowledge of what overtook her and to seek Pelor's guidance in how she should help people in her adopted land. She hopes joining the auxiliaries will enable her to do both.
Appearance and Mannerisms
Erris can be a bit annoying in overly praising and thanking Pelor, but her natural charm and beauty cause most to overlook this, even those not enamored of the gods.
An eladrin with a long glaive strapped to his back steps forward from the crowd. With a flourish and a grin, he half-mockingly bows towards the courtier and says, "Well, if ya'd like, I suppose I could offer my services to ya. Weylan Whitemoon, at your service! I should warn ya, though...I don't come cheap. But don't you worry, 'cuz after the King sees what a great job I've done, he'll probably give ya a promotion or somethin' just for findin' me!"
Background:
As he was being escorted back home, he found his chance to escape, and took it. After wandering, lost in the forest for a few days, Weylan found himself in the presence of a fey spirit. In exchange for leading him to safety, the spirit required him to sacrifice a portion of his soul. Desparate, Weylan agreed, and he was instantly transported to the edge of the forest. Immediately, he heard a voice whisper in his mind, "It is done, then...The pact is made, and now, we are bound for all eternity. My power is yours, and I finally have a physical vessel with which to experience the world..."
Rather than head home, Weylan was overcome with the urge to travel the countryside, and to experience everything life had to offer. He soon realized that the spirit he had formed his pact with possessed a lust for travel and exploration that bordered on fanatical. He didn't mind, though, since going home only meant that his parents would try to send him somewhere else to suppress his...interests... So, feeling refreshed by his new sense of power and direction, he wandered to the nearest town, where he immediately saw a crowd of people all gathered around a well dressed mand holding up a scroll or proclamation of some sort....
Mannerisms & Appearance:
Weylan usually wears a hooded cloak, so that his short white hair doesn't give him away during any sort of night-time raid or scheme. His weapon of choice is a long glaive that he took with him as he fled his escort from the academy, but he carries a small dagger, sheathed in his boot, for times when the bulkiness of a polearm would be more detriment than help. His fair skin clearly marks him as a member of the eladrin, or elven, race, and he has a pair of expressive, blue eyes.
Other Notes:
A Dragonborn clad in chainmail made his way through the crowd and to where names were being taken.
"Morning," the cleric greeted the man. "I'm here to save the village and stab everything else with the pointy end of this spear thingy. Except you, of course."
Background
His parents went to sleep one day and woke up the next to find their son had become a cleric in the name of Avandra. However, he seemed adamant to stay despite their urging for him to join the military. Akra shrugged and said that the reason he was so 'crazy' was because he could hear an angel of Avandra speaking to him. His parents gave up at that point and finally wrote him off as a loon.
Not that Akra cared. He was having too much fun stabbing things in the name of Avandra.
Mannerisms
Amaryllis, Kalashtar Devoted Cleric
Appearence/Mannerisms:
Background:
He wandered into town a few years ago after he received a "message" from Melora (In the form of a decrepit elm tree) that someone important needed protection. He needed to be ready...
In the pub:
Amaryllis walked over to the courtier. His gait a graceful yet strident pace. The chainmail he wore below his robes gave a slight rattle with every step.
He spoke concisely,"I'd like an application please."
"Ha!", the courtier scoffed,"I'm sure. Have you even a weapon?"
"I have no need for weapons, Melora will guide my allies."
The courtier stared.
"But I have this just in case." Amaryllis quickly added as he drew a seemingly dainty mace from below his vestiments. It was more like a stick than a weapon.
"Good luck swinging that, pumpkin." The courtier lloked Amaryllis over,"Whatever, it's not my life your gambling with," and handed him a piece of parchment.
PSN: ChemENGR
A man walked with little resistance through the crowd, clad in enough Plate to seemingly cover a warhorse. His tapered ears identified him as a Half-Elf.
"I'll take the assignment." He said simply with an outstretched hand.
Portrait:
Background:
Quick to join the King's military when he discovered his thrist for battle, Matrim quickly reached the point where the only thing holding from back from leadership was a lack of experience, despite holding himself as a better warrior than most Sargeants.
Rather than flounder as a recruit for a few decades to please the narrow-minded generals, Matrim decided to become an adventurer to placate his thrist for battle and victory.
Appearence/Mannerisms:
He defies the usual definition of a charismatic person, rather, he knows what to say and when, to make a man see reason. He does not open up to others easily, but is quick to take lead.
He moves as if ready to strike at any time, but not without purpose or recklessly. In combat, he stands steadfast and immovable.
Orokos (Will switch to Mythweavers if I get in): http://4e.orokos.com/sheets/1416
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the wagon that Chester had hitched into Tanis in finally pulled up to the courtyard of the Guard barracks. With a wave to the driver, Chester was off, scurrying through the crowd. Word of the new auxiliary recruitment had taken its time in reaching the forest, and it was a full days wagon ride from there to Tanis; Chester hoped he wasn't late.
Entering the hall, he saw the mass of applicants was still large, despite the fact that the guard reps seemed to be packing things up. He rolled beneath the legs of a massive dragonborn, drawing a snort from huge creature. Regaining his feet, he bounded towards a stack of crates and leapt. Planting one diminutive foot onto the top of the pile, he launched himself over the line of applicants, and landed directly on the table, to the shock of the clerks finishing the day's work. With a flourish, he dropped his application onto the top of the pile.
"Chester's the name, and it is your lucky day, m' good sirs. From traps to trolls and everything in between, I'm your man!"
Background
Tried to keep it short this time :P
"May I suggest," says a man who had been leaning unnoticed against the wall, "that you send someone that is not all about flash? Big magic is all well and good, but there are times when you need a more delicate touch. We don't know yet what kind of mission we are in for, true, but if it had been simply to kill some goblins the regular troops would be used. I have a feeling that we'll need more than bright swords and big explosions."
Background:
He found that he did have an aptitude for another, more subtle, seldom used type of magic, shadow magic. He joined one of the secret guilds in Oderfund, and learned the craft, but he did not tell his father, for he believed that his father would not approve. To his father, Nall was a bitter dissapointment.
Two years ago, Nall's father was part of an expedition the academy sent out. It was supposed to return six months ago, but did not, and there has been no communication since the expedition left. At least not that the academy was willing to tell Nall about. Not only had magic abandoned him, but it had also taken Nall's father, or so he reasoned. So Nall doesn't like magic.
Nall set out to find his father, and has traced the expedition as far as Tanis, but the trail has gone cold. They could have set out via ship from the port, or traveled into the Dwarven lands. He thinks that perhaps by joining the military he can unearth more information about his father's lost expedition, and find the man.
An enormous minotaur wades slowly and patiently through the crowd, carefully moving those around him so he does not hurt them. A massive axe, its head like a saw, hangs over his shoulders. He approaches the clerk and looks down upon him before speaking in a deep rumble. "If it is trouble you are expecting, or any kind of battle, then you should send the strongest warriors" he says, picking the clerk up between his thumb and forefinger to look him in the face. "That would be me" he says before depositing the clerk back down on the ground. "I am Asteron, and I am a warrior of power and skill."
Background:
While on this pilgrimage, he came across recruiting posters for the auxiliaries, and thought that they seemed interesting. He decided that combat within a real military force might show him new strategies and techniques to employ once he returns to his tribe, and so he resolved to sign up for the auxiliaries.
Vard, Voidsoul Tactical Warlord
Background:
He had to work much harder than any of the others when the nomadic encampments moved, actually climbing the ridges that the others simply flew up. He was not bullied, however, because this work made him stronger than most of the other young Genasi. However, as soon as he thought himself able, he left the encampment and struck out on his own.
He found that in the wide world, he was actually shunned less than he was at home, because the outsiders thought he was simply a different kind of Genasi, and not one touched by the Abyss. He found that he was best at work that utilized his strength, and soon learned that he was a natural leader and tactician. The few Genasi he has met have shunned him, and refuse to work with him, and sometime even attack him.
He has decided to try to enlist in the military so that he can protect those that are treated as less than in the way he was as a child. He just hopes that neither the recruiter nor any of his commanding officers are Genasi.
Edit: Background Updated! Exclamation Points!
PSN: ChemENGR
Torfram Krakrash
Background:
Detective Krakrash (a title he insists on, and certainly has earned) has been living in Tanis, to hear him say it, "Fer so damn long that the smell of this rotten little town hardly even bothers me anymore." His street smarts, tenacity and passion for meting out justice to the unjust have been a boon to the town guard, assisting them in settling domestic crimes and allowing them to focus more attention on defending against incursions.
A reputation of salty, gruff and unkind typically precedes the detective (...something else he certainly has earned), though it's become almost endearing to many of the townsfolk by now. He's the guy you know you go to for help in Tanis, even if you won't be getting it with a smile and a pat on the shoulder.
Personality:
His snarly demeanor and bluntness mask a dauntless desire to help the unfortunate, bring comfort (if of a different sort of brand) to victims and deliver criminals to either a jail cell or whatever deity they worship (their choice, really). His work in Tanis is his expression of this desire.
Picture:
“Excuse me, pardon me,” said a voice as its source pushed his way through the crowd. Those close enough turned to its source, a curse on the tips of their tongues as they wondered who this person was that thought themselves so important as to cut in front of everyone else. However when they saw who the voice belonged to, they closed their mouths and step aside. What looked like a cave elf with ashen grey skin, and pitch black eyes pushed his way towards the desk.
“My name is Robaki and I am interested in participating in this task if it pleases you,” placing his hands on his desk, the drow revenant gave his most diplomatic smile, “I have an extensive knowledge of the natural world and how to control its powers to my benefit. I’m sure you will find my talents most ben....”
The revenants words trailed off as several worms slipped out of the sleeves of his robes and began slithering along the courtiers desk. “I’m sorry they tend to get away from me on occasion.” A small pinprick of crimson light flashed within the revenants blackened pupils, and the worms all slithered over to his hand, merging in with his leathery flesh. “Now than where do I need to sign?”
Background:
Still not sure as to what he was the revenant eventually left the cave and began walking in a random direction through the underground cave systems he found himself within. During this journey he encountered several of its hostile inhabitants but he learned he could control the natural energies around him as well as use his new shapeshifting abilities to defend himself. As he journey through the underground systems he tried to remember who he was but his memory was completely blank. The only thing he could remember was a name, “Robaki” thinking it was his own name, he adopted it.
Eventually the revenant came upon a cave elf city. The first thing he did was find the local shamans and spiritual leaders, believing that if anyone was able to help him find out who or what he was that it would be them. Unfortunately their response was less then favourable. He was branded a “abomination of nature” and was chased out of the city. He was met with the same situation in any underground elf city that he came upon, and so he went to the surface world, hoping to find out what he could under the sun and moons watchful eye.
Mannerisms & Appearance:
At a quick glance Robaki looks like most cave elves, with the exception that his skin is more of an ashen gray over their black skin. On closer inspection though his skin has a more leather like feel and texture to it, with rough dark scales appearing on his flesh near the end of his limbs. His face is inexpressive, and whenever he choose to show an emotion through his facial reactions it comes of more as a mason carving of an emotion over genuine feelings.
Cael Shadowstep, Human Rogue
A knife comes flying out of the darkness of the rafters supporting the hall's roof and thuds into the wall just above the courier's head, quivering slightly. "You want someone to get into a town unseen and find answers? I'm your man" comes a voice from the darkness of the rafters.
A dark shape drops and lands on its hands, deftly moving into a back handspring and then a back flip. He lands on his feet and then bows. "Cael Shadowstep at your service; master infiltrator, assassin, and thief extraordinaire." He performs a front handspring and somersaults forward, popping up on his feet in front of the courier. "I can guarantee that I will find out what has occurred, and that any who are there will be ignorant of my presence in its entirety"
He gives a devilish grin and pulls the knife from above the courier's head, sheathing it. "And, if anyone does see me, I'm more than able to silence them forever."
Background:
Cael, of course, grew up learning the arts of the thief and the assassin and eventually went into business on his own, stealing items of value or killing persons of interest for those who had the coin to pay. His lifestyle has taken him throughout all the different parts of the kingdom, as he tends to avoid staying in one place for too long (since eventually people tend to notice that the spree of thefts and the occasional murder coincide with the arrival of that dark haired man...).
It so happened that one of his clients has asked him to kill one of the King's Advisors, someone who never leaves the court and is under the watch of the Guard at almost all times. Seeing no easy way to infiltrate the palace and kill him without dying himself, Cael thought of a better plan: infiltrate the Guard, earn his trust, and kill him without being noticed. Heck, he'd even have a commission in the Guard, which would bring him some respectability and a steady income flow, and if he didn't get caught he could stay on as a Guard, at least until he got bored with it.
Trying to figure out how to go about doing this, he one day saw a poster for the Auxiliaries, and knew that this was his chance to get into the Guard and get closer to his target.
Tern Blackbriar, Crimson King's Dwarf Druid
Erris Iratian, astrobstrd's Kalashtar Paladin
Kaazin, IamUnaware's Revenant Rogue
Nall, dots's Drow Assassin
Amaryllis, SuperRuper's Kalashtar Cleric.
IC thread here
Congrats to you guys. This would have been fun.
PSN: ChemENGR
Have fun everyone. Everyone's characters looked really nice. Back to Dragon Age for my role playing for now.