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GGG Character sheets

Player: Name:

MQuinny1234 Justin Reah

Ethnicity: Jyrminok Culture: Kermanic Attributes: Strength - 11/20 Dexterity - 3/20 Academics - 1/20 Wisdom - 14/20 Skills: Melee weapon. 5 Heavy double handed claymore, mortuary sword Armour and shield. 5 light armour, Sun shield Faith 14 Medical knowledge 1 Strategy and tactics 1 Linguistics 1 Biography: Born as a serf and spent a lot of his childhood toiling the land with the rest of his rather large family, 6 days a week, like clockwork they'd get up at dawn, work with each other, come back for dinner, set up for the next day and then sleep. Cept of course for the seventh day, where they'd all go to the village parish to hear the Word. Justin grew up like a tree, stout of size, possessed by a quiet strength and the tendancy, to silently think over questions of the world. To take things seriously, to look around him and see, not just how things were, but how they could be, although he could also, more importantly, decide how things should be. Raised with a strong family bond in a close knit community, and fed with the words of the God of the Sun, he was practically certain to seek a position where he could help out his fellow man in a just, righteous and loving manner, in a way that could help them spiritually as well as physically. On his 17th birthday, with his familys and the local father's blessing, he set off to become one of the noble paladins of the Sun God. 11 years later, after travelling and training through the cities of Jos, Jox and Ipper, Justin has decided to travel out into the world. To blaze his own trail through the passage of time and do what he can to benifit all of the world. Appearance: 6 foot 3 with sandy coloured hair, tanned rough skin and brown-amber eyes and a great big smile. Fully garbed in dented, but shining, mail emblazoned with a bright and radiant sun on his shoulders and back. Armed with a great claymore on his back and a shield with the same symbol of the Sun god on it as his

armour. A mortuary sword on one side and a book of psalms attached to the other of his hip and the symbol of a golden sun hanging from his neck. If you need some more help picturing him, I based this character on Solaire of Astora. Starting Gold: 50

Player: Name:

Cidellus Torinar

Ethnicity: Half-Elf Culture: Durestian Attributes: Strength - 6/20 Dexterity - 6/20 Academics - 13/20 (12+1) Wisdom - 6/20 Skills: Linguistics. 10. Northman, Allegorian, Steel. Riding. 1 Social. 1 Magic. 14. Fire Magic, Telekinesis, Divination. Biography: Torinar was born the bastard son of a mid-ranking Durestian nobleman and an unknown elven woman. When he was five, his father sent him off to the famous archmage Arkoron Greenfire for education to avoid a very very uncomfortable conversation with his wife-to-be. Torinar proved to be a skillful and prodigal student, taking a liking to fire magic and telekinesis before being taught divination and healing magic in his later years as an apprentice. At twenty-four, his master sent him out into the world to make a name for himself. That's when he landed in Feddton. Appearance: He is tall, though rather weak and clumsy due to lack of exercise. He has a huge black beard and long black hair to cover both his angular jaw and pointed elf-ears. He appears to be an average northman due to these. He wears the dark blue hooded robes of an adventuring mage (clean due to lack of experience), as well as sturdy leather travel boots. For focuses, he carries an oak wooden staff and an alder-wood wand. He also owns a rather simple paint horse for transportation, and a variety of books given to him by his master. Finally, he also has a small mirror to help with scrying. Starting Gold: 200

Player:

WillyDeWulfe Tibbs

Name: Ethnicity: Wyrdfolk (Stronger Magic) Culture: Northman Culture: Durestian (Chivalized) (+1 Academics, +1 Linguistics) Attributes: Strength - 2/20 Dexterity - 4/20 Academics - 15(14)/20 Wisdom - 8/20 Skills: Linguistics. 16(14) Northman(base language), Wyrdfolk, Rumonian, Allegorian, Jyrminok, Hifkaansi Magic. 13(10) Frost, Beast Communion, ~illusion Riding. 1 Frost Magic When Tibbs was just learning magic, he conjured a few sparks and lit one of his favorite books on fire. Since that day he's been wary of fire and has attempted to learn the school of magic that opposes it, Frost. Frost allows Tibbs to cool things in an area, shoot a bolt of ice, and encase enemies in ice. There may be other uses... Beast Communion Magic Most people are suspicious of the Wyrdfolk, but animals don't judge. Some of Tibbs's best friends have been technically non-sentient and he is currently getting along quite well with Piddles. Beast Communion Magic allows Tibbs to talk with willing animals, affect the emotions of an animal (calm, fear, etc.), and call animals to him. This also includes some slight mind control as Tibbs can order the animals to help him in some way provided it does not go against their instinct. ("Bring me food" works, but not "kill yourself"). The "talking" is telepathic and over a short distance, but calling animals has a much larger range like "summon animal" in DnD. Animals are considered any non-sentient creature unless the GM says otherwise. Illusion Magic Facing the stigma many have against the Wyrdfolk, Tibbs decided it might be nice if he could hide his true nature. He's still learning though. Illusion magic allows one to affect how something is represented to the world by altering its sight, sound, texture, taste, or smell. It can also be used to make full blown illusions out of thin air that react based on simple commands.

Because Tibbs is not very skilled in illusion magic, he mainly uses it to alter his skin color and appear as a Northman. Biography: One night several years ago the queen of Durest was told that a baby Wyrdfolk had been abandoned at the castle gates. The Wyrdfolk were generally looked down upon and no one would mind if this one died from exposure, but instead the queen ordered that the child be brought in and cared for. This was in part due to her kindness, but even more so it was motivated by the fact that such an odd occurrence seemed like the opening to a grand story and she wanted to be a part of it. The infant had been malnourished and left in the cold for a long time, and as such it was doing poorly. By some miracle, the child was later told it was because the god of Stories wanted to see what would happen, the baby survived the night. The queen, wanting to influence the child, but also not wanting to have to deal with it, placed the infant Wyrdfolk with the family of one of her dukes. The duke named the child Tibbs and raised it to be his best scribe. Tibbs was never treated as a member of the noble family, but he was educated and treated well. In his free time, Tibbs took to reading every book he could get his hands on instead of playing outside like most children. Due to this he became an accomplished writer, wise beyond his years, and pathetically weak. Luckily, he was also a Wyrdfolk. When Tibbs hit puberty his magical powers began to manifest themselves. There were some minor incidents in the early years, but Tibbs learned from them and began to develop his skills through rigorous book study. His abilities were quite useful in making up for his shortcomings and in time he became self sufficient and no longer needed to rely solely on his benefactors to survive. He still did scribe work for the duke as a way to pay for his room, but through magic he was able to provide his own food and necessities. Book study can only get one so far, and Tibbs began to crave a chance to actually put all his theory into practice. Tibbs crafted a beautiful letter to the queen asking for funds to go out into the world and research a book he wanted to write. It was to be the tale of a group of brave adventurers led by a well learned and intelligent Wyrdfolk who travel across the land on a magnificent adventure. The book would of course heavily favor the Queendom of Durest as one of the nicest places to be. Having appealed to both the Queen's love of stories and political aspirations for propaganda, she agreed to fund his journey and sent him the requested gold. Tibbs bought a horse, which he named Piddles, in order to carry his supplies and boarded a ship to Feddton, eager to start his adventure.

Tibbs wears comfortable clothes underneath a simple hooded robe. He is of average height and quite skinny. His skin tone has been altered with illusion magic to match that of an average Northman. Piddles the horse follows him obediently. Starting Gold: A horse named Piddles with saddlebags filled with 20 books(nonskilling) and writing supplies and 30 gold. Let me just say that I have no idea what the actual value of gold it so I sort of guessed. The books are stories that Tibbs copied during his years as a scribe. They're not the kind that could give anyone skill points, but he may be able to trade them to someone fond of stories. I'm willing to get rid of this part if necessary. He also has writing supplies and some blank journals for writing the story he promised the queen.

Player: Name:

Demonsul Sunbeam Canter

(former battlemage, 5th Ponyfolk mamluk regiment, commonly Sunbeam, Corporal Canter or Sun) Ethnicity: Ponyfolk/Unicorn Culture: Kermanic Attributes: Strength - 8/20 Dexterity - 6/20 Academics - 11/20 Wisdom - 6/20 Skills: Magic - 12 - (Telekinesis [racial], Beam attacks, Warding, Teleportation [penalty proficiency]) Armor use - 5 - (Medium barding) Linguistics - 5 - (Kermanic Jyrminok, Black Tongue/Jobsworthian) Survival 3 Born to slave parents in a stable near Jox, Sunbeam received the usual treatment of newborn ponyfolk slaves and was separated from her family to grow up amongst gruff ponyfolk teachers and their masters. The purpose of this poor education was to determine the ponyfolk's individual talents before selling them off into slavery in order to increase their value. From an early age, Sunbeam was confident in her own particular talent; she excelled in the direction of energy into beams. She proved an apt learner, and her academic skill advanced her magical learning. After she accidentally injured a fellow student with an energy beam, she was whipped raw and transferred to a martial education. Pony mamluks are slave soldiers, trained from a young age to excel on the battlefield. They are often far more prestigious than other pony slaves due to their right to be armed and armored. Companies and regiments of them fetch high prices throughout the Hebrides, as much due to their sheer rarity as their skill - although natural mages and flying cavalry are always useful on the battlefield. Sunlight took to the education with aplomb, learning much in the way of using magic for defense as well as offense during her years in training. Her experience in magic opened her up to the potential of her talent - she has learned to master the manipulation of beams of energy with various purposes. She learned how to complicate the beam frequencies to better break through warding, and when to pour magical strength into overpowering enemy magical defenses. She also learned the traditional unicorn art of telekinesis, and how to use it to shield herself as well as to attack. She was taught about defensive wards and how to protect herself with them, from a simple ward against biting insects to blocking foes

from scrying her to full-blown battlefield wards against hostile magic attacks. She even learned a little of teleportation, though she never dared travel further than lineof-sight. Eventually, Sunbeam was put into active service with the 5th Ponyfolk mamluk Regiment, a group roughly 2000 strong primarily made up of mixed air lancers and battlemages. The group was one of the indigenous mercenary regiments, which the slave masters would contract out to lords who only needed an army for a while and didn't want to purchase whole companies of slaves. Sunbeam saw battle in service to the Fermanic city-states, rising to the rank of Corporal during various wars. The newly-minted Corporal Canter felt at home in the military. Fighting alongside her trusted comrades in arms, she survived several battlefields. Although ineligible for a commissioned post, she was considered more than once for promotion to sergeant, although her lack of experience with tactics prevented her actually making the jump. However, fate had other ideas; she suffered a severe battlefield injury and was removed from the front lines. No longer an able soldier, she returned to the individual slave market, where her mamluk background raised both interest and price and she was sold off to one Ulysses Bloom as a personal servant. Her wound healed surprisingly completely, and she was soon almost as able as she had been before. The scar left her left front leg clumsy, but sturdy enough to run on. Having learned the black tongue of Jobsworth to communicate with her new master, she now accompanies him on his journeys throughout the world. Starting Gold: 0 (is a slave of Ulysses Bloom)

Player: Name:

ICan'tGiveCredit Sanik (Goes by "San")

Ethnicity: Blackfolk Culture: Anochian Attributes: Strength - 6/20 Dexterity - 15/20 Academics - 3/20 Wisdom - 3/20 Skills: Survival. 15 Riding. 1 - Giant Spiders (+1 due to ethnicity) Stealth. 5 Tactics. 1 (from having 15 in dex) Melee. 4 (Twin Daggers) Ranged. 4 (from having 15 in Dex) (Proficiency: Blowgun) Linguistics. 1 (Blacktongue) -Bonus- Intimidation. Blackfolk characters will find it easier to intimidate or bully weaker willed NPCs who are causing trouble, and taunt, sapient foes in battle. -Bonus- Scuttling horrors! Characters of this culture gain an automatic additional riding proficiency for riding Giant Spiders. Biography: Sanik was born to diplomats of Jobsworth. They weren't really diplomats though, and they wouldn't tell Sanik until later. It explained a lot of things though, when they did. Like the fact that their home has an absurd amount of gold and jewels scattered around the house and hidden in caches like... the pantry?? Sanik swore he never got to eat anything without simply grabbing some gold from around the house and then dining extravagantly. His fellow Blackfolk thought this was perfectly normal because of his parents' profession. Though that was only because his parents were more discreet in their spending. It gave the vibe that they were "spoiling him". It was the perfect guise. And Sanik's parents were proud of Sanik for enforcing it. They looked like a rich family. And the king never noticed whenever they snuck in to steal some jewels from the treasury on account of their exceptional stealth and underhandedness. Which they ofcourse passed down to their child. He didn't like learning unless he absolutely had to though, so he didn't pay too much attention when he was being taught tactics and stealth. Sanik would come to regret this, when his parents were eventually found out when the king realized that people don't fear him enough to not dare steal from the Vault (which was only slightly concealed in his bedroom, the fool!) so he posted guards. Needless to say, Sanik's parents didn't know how to handle this, so they just decided to kill the guards and assassinate the king. They were going to flee the kingdom anyway. The investigators were going

irate until they found a clue about them. Sanik's mother and father were getting tired of keeping these guys' mouths shut. They killed them too. It would only be a matter of time before they're found out. However, they were found out a little too early. They sent Sanik ahead to hold off the cavalry. Unfortunately, Sanik COULDN'T READ THE FUCKING MAP. That's what he gets for not paying attention to his teachers. He wandered until he ended up in the Great Sewers of Underlaka. Good thing he had his GIANT SPIDER with him. All those years of going out for fun to the dead woods of his town had finally paid off as he faced the harshest conditions possible. Barely any food or clean water. He had to take on mercenary jobs seldom, though, because Sanik just had to threaten people with death or simply steal it from sewer vagrants. It didn't take long for him to grow fond of weaponry, even of blowguns, as people hired him to kill competitors every time he decided to go up to the Surface. He rarely went out to the surface, though. But this still made him untrackable to anyone trying to investigate him. And now Sanik is the mob boss of the underground. No one would want to face him on or off his GIANT SPIDER who has remained faithful to him all these years despite the deplorable conditions. Appearance: He's fairly tall. 6 feet. Slightly thin, medium build. Likes to show a crazed smile when he's not out stealing/killing/doing a "job". Wears a dark-grey cloak coupled with a black hood. Sandals with small little cushions in the sole so he doesn't make too much sound. Current Gold: 250 worth in jewels and the likes + 5 gold worth in farthings. Inventory: Currently 71 darts. A blowgun 2 Jars of Concentrated hallucinogens. 2 pouches of snake poison. A Giant Spider His Twin Daggers. A black cloak which he is wearing right now.

Player: Name:

Bramzter

Dragoth

Ethnicity: Undlerkan Culture: Undlerkan Attributes: Strength - 10/20 Dexterity - 13/20 Academics - 3/20 Wisdom - 3/20 Skills: Linguistics: 1 (Undlerkan) Melee weapon use: 10 (Proficiency: Whip + Level 10 Bonus Proficiency: Khopesh) Ranged weapon use: 5 (Proficiency: Thrown Projectiles, + Archery Bonus due to Ethnicity ) Survival: 4 (+ 1 Cause of Ethnicity = 5) Riding: 5 Biography: Drogoth was the son of a simple horse merchant. learning the classic tradition of horse riding even before he learned to walk. His youth was quite improvished but it could be worse. He was kind of a runt however and got into lots of fights, sometimes winning and sometimes losing, He did have a mean reputation for hitting people square in the face with rocks tho. In his young adult years he became a game poacher, hunting in various lords lands enjoying the extra gold he got with it. Unfortunately it was a matter of time before he was caught. As punishment he had to serve in the lords armed force. He got the duty as a tracker tasked with returning run away serfs, criminals and other scum. He however was forced to flee after a 'misunderstanding' involving horses branded him as a horse thief. Devoid of a home and eager for adventure Drogoth now wanders the lands along with his trusty horse looking for odd jobs, eventually stopping in Feddington. Starting Gold: His horse, His weapons (Whip,Javelins,Kopesh) Some dried meat and a hide bag to carry stuff in. No gold.

Player: Name:

MasterBlade Brutus

Ethnicity: Jyrminok Culture: Cyotan Attributes: Strength -15/20 (14+1) Dexterity - 10/20 Academics - 2/20 Wisdom - 2/20 Skills: Melee weapon use. 15 (12+3): Warhammer, Fists, Ball and Chain, Greatsword Shield and Armor Use. 10 (9+1): Light, Heavy Linguistics. 5: Cyotan, Naknakians Biography: Brutus is a battle slave of the city of Cyotan. He was sold into slavery at a very young age, being raised in the city doing menial labor. It was when he came of age and the Jyrminok ethnicity kicked in that Brutus quickly dwarfed the other laborers in size and strength. He was quickly moved to the army where his great size and stature made him a valuable guard for high-ranking officers. Starting Gold: Slaves don't get gold stoopid.

Player:

Raptarion

Name:

Nolan Corbett

Ethnicity: Allegorian Culture: True Allegorian (Noble) Attributes: Strength - 15/20 Dexterity - 9/20 (8+1 Due to Ethnicity) Academics - 2/20 Wisdom - 2/20 Skills: Linguistics- 1 Strategy and tactics- 10 Melee weapon use- 7 Proficiencies: Halabard- Shortsword- Two-handed war-hammer (+4 skill points from 15 points in Strength. +1 Proficiency due to Allegorian Noble) Shield and armor- 6 Proficiencies: Heavy Armor Riding: 5 Biography: Nolan grew up in Allegoria. If you had asked him in his early years he would have told you he was proud of it. Born to a minor noble family he grew up in luxury. He was encouraged early on to take up weapons training. He did, but proved to be less than receptive to his teachings. It was around this time that he requested that his father take him to a war meeting. His father agreed, in only to teach him the lesson that such meeting were actually quite boring. It came as a surprise to everyone when the young noble actively took part in the discussion, discussing tactics with a brilliance not often seen at his age. Nolan grew up to be a rather impressive captain. Given the time of relative peace, he almost never got an opportunity to showcase his tactical abilities. This changed when the the Harvest Tide Revolution came. It was his time to shine. To make a real name for himself! It went terribly. His men were time and time again defeated, forced to retreat and lick their wounds. Despite his best efforts, he was constantly plagued by losses. Every battle he and his men took place in was a complete disaster. Nolan had begun to believe he must be cursed. To fail with such consistency in an area he had strived to achieve excellence in. Too ashamed to return home to his family and friends, he took his weapons, his armor, and his steed Calum, and rode away. He took a job as a mercenary off and on for a few years before arriving in Feddton. He was asked by a man in expensive looking clothes to deliver a package to an elderly man on the outskirts of the city, and was promised a handsome reward upon delivery. He hopes that the man wasn't lying about the reward. if he was, then he's

going to be stuck on the island with almost no money. Nolan is also a follower of the god of the dead. He would always offer a prayer to ensure his men would be well cared for after death. He has not led people into battle for ten years (excluding mercenaries he never really cared for) but he still keeps up his prayers. Starting Gold: 44 Inventory - A halberd of clearly superior make. - suit of heavy armor that, while in good repair, is missing a few pieces including a shoulder guard, a greave, and both shin guards. - small shield, designed to not restrict movement while wielding a two handed weapon. The shield looks to have once had a coat of arms painted on it. It offers little protection. - chestnut colored horse named Callum. Callum has saddle bags and a saddle. He is trained to not run during battle. He can also be called by a whistle. - mysterious package. It is wrapped in black cloth. Nolan was promised a "substantial reward" upon delivery. (The package, The person who gave him the package, The person who will receive the package, and the reward, or lack there of, are up to the GM. They can be as significant or insignificant as he chooses).

Player:

Kocel

Name:

Kraig of Melhaven

Ethnicity: Wyrdfolk Culture: Jani'De Attributes: Strength: 6 Dexterity: 10 Intelligence: Slightly above average. Academics: 10 Wisdom: 6 Skills: Linguistics: 1 (speaks Beadian, but with a slight accent. His parents were bilingual, but they didn't teach him much of his cultural language, as they knew that wouldn't provide him with a good future. He knows about four or five words, such as the ones for 'father', 'mother', etcetera, and he never uses them.) Survival: 5 Strategy and tactics: 1 Melee: 5 (Proficiency: Battle-Claw) A battle gauntlet with long, sharp claws. Ranged: 1 (Proficiency: Small Blunt Objects) Kraig's had to throw a bottle or rock or two to get by in his life. Magic: 8 (Proficiencies: Chaos Magic [innate, main], Illusion [secondary]) Chaos-Magic: Raw, powerful, wildly-uncontrollable. Kraig can tap into this power in various ways, but must do so VERY carefully...

Spells (reliant on GM approval): Chaos Claw: Kraig imbues his claw with a random magical property. Could be elemental magic. Could be the ability to grant haste to his target. Needless to say, it's very unpredictable and can be both good and bad. Chaos Bolt: Shoots a magical bolt at the target. The effect of the bolt is random. Chaos Missile: Shoots a seeking bolt of energy at a randomly determined target. Flux: A last resort. Kraig taps into the chaotic magic within himself and forces out a

pulse of chaotically-unpredictable yet strong magic around him at the cost of his health and well-being. Kraig has only used this ability twice, both in dire straits, and both times it very nearly killed him. If using this doesn't kill him, it will leave him in a state unable to cast any magic for at least a full day. Illusion: The art of distracting and tricking your opponent, most of this school's spell revolves around bending and manipulating light. Most, not all. Higher-tier spells involve making intangible magical constructs that can move and act like a real human being. Needless to say, Kraig is nowhere near that level of skill. Spells: (once again, pending GM approval) Illusionary Insect: A basic apprentice spell, it involves manipulating light to make the illusion of a small insect. The insect cannot interact physically with anything and can only serve as a distraction or shallow amusement. Most people use this spell to make butterflies, fireflies, and the sort. Kraig, however, can only make wasps. He has no idea why. Light Orb: Allows the caster to form an orb of light within their hand, the size depending on their skill. The orb can then be either held or 'thrown' a short distance. More skilled casters can make orbs curve and burst into sparks. Kraig's orb is about the size of a ping-pong ball, can be made to fly about ten meters in a straight line, and he cannot make it burst or curve. Flash: The caster issues a bright, blinding flash from the palm of their hand. The strength of the flash is dependent on the skill of the caster. This is Kraig's strongest illusion spell, something he is particularly proud of, and he can make a flash bright enough to temporarily blind anyone looking straight at him in a small room. Unfortunately, he's still not skilled enough to make it useful in anything but short-tomedium distances. Stealth: 5 Kraig is an orphan. His parents, wandering vagrants, came across an old mage in a forest, begging him for help. The mage, who had been foraging for reagents, could tell the pair were close to death, infected with some sort of curse or sickness, far beyond the point where he could help them. However, it seemed they knew this as well, as all they asked of him was to care for their son. It was only then the mage noticed the boy, perhaps about six or seven years of age, hiding behind a tree, eyes wide with fear. The mage agreed to take the boy on as an apprentice, and offered to house the couple during their final hours, but the two refused, wandering away into the forest, telling their son to accompany the mage instead... ... Nine years later, the boy, Kraig, was a bit of an outcast in the Beadian village of Melhaven. Living and studying with the mage, who owned a small tower on the outskirts of town, Kraig was constantly aware of the fear and revulsion of the other

villagers. Not only had his accent given his cultural heritage away, but word had spread that within him lay a wild, uncontrollable magic. This had caused no end of troubles during his studies, and, for the most part, led to people keeping their distance... With two exceptions. One, a boy his own age, who had dreams of becoming a legendary knight and swordsman, and another, a girl a year older than him, who studied under a local healer. The boy, Longinus, had the usual Beadian sense of honor, but also a strange sense of amiability about him, and, as such, had reached out to befriend the village outcast. The girl, Anarya, had tended to many of Kraig's magically self-inflicted injuries, and during the sessions of bandage-changing and poltice-applying, she had come to be rather protective of him, chastising him when he put himself at unnecessary risk Eventually Kraig introduced the two, but Longinus came to fall for Anarya. Kraig, who harbored feelings for the her as well, hid his jealousy whenever Longinus would wax romantic, and, to his relief, Anarya seemed to view Longinus's occasional un-subtle advances with amused disinterest. Longinus dreamed of starting an adventuring party, claiming that, with Kraig's magic and Anarya's healing skills, the trio would be unstoppable. Unfortunately, that dream would never come to be. One night, from the darkness came a band of raiders. They swept through the village, capturing those they could and slaughtering those who fought. The mage who had housed Kraig died giving his apprentice a chance to escape, and Longinus managed to fight off two attackers before escaping his home as well. They managed to find Anarya, who had hid when her home was attacked and gone unnoticed, and the three decided to make a break for it. However, as they were leaving the village, one of the bandits happened upon them and raised a cry of alarm before Longinus could silence him. As they were fleeing from the bandits, Kraig fell, injuring his leg. It became clear to Longinus that they could not all escape together, so he convinced Anarya to flee with him, promising both her and Kraig that they'd track down the bandits and rescue him. Kraig, however, begged them not to leave him behind. Anarya, realizing that Longinus's plan was the only one that would allow any chance of all three of them surviving in the long-run, reluctantly agreed, promising Kraig that she would make sure Longinus held to his oath. They fled, and Kraig, feeling betrayed and abandoned, was captured. Five harrowing days were spent in captivity. On that fifth and final day, Kraig had heard rumors amongst the other slaves that their captors had found a buyer. Worse still, the rumor was that the buyer was a sorcerer that had specifically mentioned looking for test subjects for his magical experiments. Kraig decided to escape on his own, dangers be damned. Using his meager skills in illusion to distract a guard, Kraig managed to throttle him and free himself of his bonds. Deciding not to free his fellow slaves in favor of sneaking out on his own, Kraig managed to retrieve his weapons and belongings before another slave managed to alert another guard to his escape out of spite. Attempting to flee the camp, Kraig was unfortunately surrounded. The bandits began to laugh, attacked him, and it became clear they intended to beat him to death. Bruised, battered, and with a few cracked ribs, Kraig, in desperation, reached deep

within himself, tapping the source of his chaotic magic, and, with an agonized cry, let loose a wild, devastating pulse of unpredictable sorcery. No one attacker was affected the same. One was disintegrated into a bloody mist. Another was frozen solid. Not every one suffered a fatal effect, but regardless, the survivors staggered back in fear and fled. Kraig, injured and magically exhausted, stumbled out of the bandit camp and into the nearby woods. Somehow, he managed to survive. Eventually he found his way to the ruins of his former home. The mage's tower had been, miraculously, untouched, and so Kraig raided it for any supplies he could carry. As he slept in the tower that night, Kraig, who had been in a numb daze since his escape, began to think. Longinus had lied, he decided. Both he and Anarya had left him to die, with no intention of rescuing him as they had claimed. They had just wanted him out of the way, and now they were starting a new life without him burdening them. And so Kraig's mind, which had never been that healthy to begin with, began to crack. With no one else left to keep him from giving in, he fell into paranoid nihilism. Kraig's only goal now is vengeance for his perceived betrayal. He seeks to find Longinus and make him suffer. Beyond that, he also seeks to learn more about his cultural heritage, perhaps desiring a deeper connection to the parents he had barely known. TLDR: An orphan, inherently gifted with a wild magic, Kraig was abandoned by friends he trusted. He believes they betrayed and abandoned him on purpose, but this is almost certainly not true. Paranoid and slightly schizophrenic, Kraig is driven by a thirst for revenge. Age: Roughly between 18 and 19 years old. Starting Gold: 20 gold, attained through illicit means. Starting Equipment: Iron Claw: A gauntlet with long, sharp claws. Crudely made, it was given to Kraig by Longinus, who had made it himself. Kraig seeks to return it, pointy ends first. Tattered Mage's Cloak: A thick hooded cloak, dark green, made to keep the wearer dry and warm. Peasant Clothes: Basic clothes that have seen a lot of wear. Leather Boots: Boots made for trekking through the wilderness.

Book, "A History Of Jani'De": Kraig obtained this through clever theft. Unfortunately, it is written entirely in Jani'De, which Kraig cannot read. He spends most of his free time attempting to decipher it. Book, "Basic Magic: Illusion": Part of a series of spellbooks, this one, on the school of illusion, covers most basic spells and even a couple more advanced ones. Book, "Kraig's Journal": A compilation of notes written by Kraig. A Bag of Basic Magical Components: A bag full of ingredients Kraig requires for his Illusion spells. Basic Survival Gear: A survival knife, flint and tinder, a rope, and other basics for surviving in the wilds. Map of Bead: A map of Beadian territory. A stolen bottle of cheap wine: Cheap wine held in a thick glass bottle. A stolen copper ring: A regular copper ring, stolen from an unsuspecting person's purse. A stolen silver fork: A small silver fork. A stolen spy-glass: A spyglass, neither cheaply made nor expensive, stolen with the intent of haggling off, but kept for it's usefulness. Fluff Traits: Five Finger Backstab: Kraig's weapon isn't VERY practical for pitched combat, and, as such, he prefers to sneak up and stab his enemies in the back. This isn't really a special move as it is a modus operandi. Paranoid: Kraig trusts no one. NO ONE. Schizophrenic: Kraig knows you're all watching him. He knows what you're saying about him. He can hear you, after all. All of you. Cynical: Kraig has, let's say, 'opinions' on ideas such as loyalty, love, and friendship. Remorseless: Kraig isn't sorry he hurt you. After all, you were going to hurt him in the long run. That's how the world works. Player:

Palamedes

Name:

Winston Somin

Ethnicity: Northman Culture: Praegevian Attributes: Strength - 4/20 Dexterity - 10/20 Academics - 8/20 Wisdom - 10/20 Skills: Linguistics 5: Northman, Undlerkan Strategy/Tactics 5 Melee Weapon Use 2: Sword Ranged Weapon Use 5: Crossbow, Arquebus Shield/Armour Use 2 Stealth 1 Riding 1 Social 5 Biography: Winston Somin was a man at the heart of the Harvest Rebellion. He saw the first Federation city lost at Praeg, fought the first Federation soldiers, worked with the first Federation traitors, and while he didn't get to see the explosion that leveled the central government he did hear it was rather splendid from a friend of a friend who was supposedly passing through at the time. He did it all for his glorious homeland, and in return he was richly rewarded with a position in the republic's new government. The only problem was that he didn't want said position. In fact, he wanted little else than to be free from the magic bureaucracy that had taken advantage of the ironrich islands he called home and oppressed its people - maybe some less responsibility-laden rewards, such as a manse or even a couple chests of gold, but certainly not the 'honour' of a harder job then he ever had before. As the years passed Somin acted as many things for his government; but none brought him more experience and knowledge (and grief) than his role as a bumbling diplomat. From Boulderwood to the southern colonies he ventured throughout the old Federation lands, securing alliances and trade information as well as learning of their customs and strengths. As it turned out, he was less inept at diplomatic dealings than he would have thought (or wanted), and much to his chagrin he was never permitted any other job. However, the more Winston ventured the more he saw things that brought him to question the wisdom he had learned in Praeg. He met non-humans who could be

trusted, Allegorians who weren't completely self serving, and, most surprisingly, mages who were not completely and utterly terrible (though most still were). He took his concerns to friends and fellow revolutionaries... and was punished for his disbelief. He's never divulged exactly what happened, beyond saying that at least it meant he didn't have to serve in office anymore, but despite his great love of the city he hasn't set foot in the capital since. Now he finds himself wandering the world once again, with naught but the usual tools and weapons of the freelancer trade and his trusty helmet (no he never did take it off). One of Somin's more recent tales involves meeting an outcast dwarf in a seedy bar on the edge of Stabba. After a night filled with drinking, discussion, and a smattering of debauchery the two woke up outside a burning elven glade with naught but the clothes on their back, fourteen bottles of 'drink', and a massive headache. In recognition of their shared experience and hatred of the elven people (of whom Somin had just made an enemy of) the dwarf dubbed him an 'honorary dwarven slave'. Dwarves are kind of assholes that way. For his new title (which totally wouldn't hold up in dwarf court) Somin was awarded with a 'shitty human gun' the dwarf had picked up in his travels, worthy of a slightly less shitty than average human. Though they eventually parted somewhere around Kriska (their 'drink shit and shoot at things' Undlerka tour is a story in itself), Somin felt he had picked up enough to use the weapon with no problems whatsoever. Seems that thinking there won't be a problem and there actually not being one are two different things though, and the Northman is now left with a completely busted hunk of metal, a dead horse, and enough injuries to make him think twice about using a firearm for quite some time (if he ever manages to find another one, that is). Likes: Praeg, republics, helmets, lazing around, reading, the south, Jobsworth during the fall, Wulfhold drinking songs, New Land, a nice meal, brunettes, a bath in Bath, big cities, exotic spices, dwarves, redundant names, snakes, long ranged fights, not being in the front Dislikes: Mages, magic, getting hit in the head, fire, sages, federations, dictatorships, dancing, paperwork, wizards, seers, potatoes, zombie things, spiders, Wulfhold drinking games, Jahn, camping, meeting new people, Beadian beadwork, Touchstone, Ethidian in general, elves, exploring, vegans, mysterious brews Find my opening post in the original thread for more Somin stories.

Starting Gold: 200 Inventory:

1 x Lucky dented helmet 1 x Worn iron shield 1 x Steel sword of questionable quality 1 x Decent crossbow 1 x Bag of bolts 20 x Bolts 2 x Bags of gold 3 x Steel horseshoes 1 x Bag of blackpowder 2 x Iron bullets 15 x Pounds of 'meat' .3 x Broken matchlock arquebus 5 x Outfits .46 x Mismatched armour 1 x Arm injury 3 x Minor burns

Player:

Pharmacy

Name:

Ulysses Bloom

Ethnicity: Blackfolk Culture: Jobsworth Attributes: Strength: 10/20 Dexterity: 6/20 Academics: 10/20 Wisdom: 6/20 Skill: Linguistics: 5 (Jobsworth, Allegorian) Melee Weapon (Worm, Sword): 5 Riding: 5 Magic: 9 (Family Pact, Occultism) Social: 1 -Bonus- Intimidation. Blackfolk characters will find it easier to intimidate or bully weaker willed NPCs who are causing trouble, and taunt, sapient foes in battle. -Bonus- Affinity: Monstrous: Characters of this culture are not affected by fear of monstrous creatures and can oppose them without penalty in this regard. Biography: Like other Jobsworthian households, Ulyssess lineage is an interesting thing. Somewhere in the dawn of Blackfolk civilization, one of his ancestors (a fugitive or pariah, no doubt) made a pact with the void. Part blessing. Part curse. All business. Soon, the man and his future descendants were symbiotically infested with worms. Why worms, however. They thought it was a pretty cool idea at that time. Ulysses and every other of his blood-relative have worms of the metaphysical nature inside of them. The number vary from one to a thousand, perhaps even a million if you want to exaggerate and is certainly not set in stone. Ulysses has four, but it won't freak him out if more heads pop out to say hello. Their names are Alpha, Beta, Gamma, and Delta because Jobsworthians aren't really known for their originality. They are fairly large thick and long as an arm. They have horns on their head arranged in sort of a crown and nasty, evil teeth. They are reluctant to go out of the body unless coaxed, curious or commanded. They are sentient and intelligent of a sorts because they act as physical and mental extensions of Ulysses. They can act independently but they are obliged to listen to Ulysses if he wants them to fetch his pair of pants or something like that. However, they do have their own quirks and personalities sort of comparable to a lovable but overexcitable dog so sometimes they don't do what he expects. Just like every other pet in Hebrides. This is why

Bloom and his family spend an inordinate time making friends with their worms, just so the cheeky little bastards don't make a cache of used lingerie in your body. Ulysses lived a rather sheltered life, mostly because his brother's shadow drew a good portion of familial attention from him. Ulysses figured he was supposed to be jealous of his brother considering he was better than him at everything (he even had one extra worm than him!) but he was such an amicable fellow that any sitcom-level shenanigans are quashed. Eventually, Ulysses became a student of an universitymilitary academy hybrid because no one sees the difference between learning and ass-kicking. He is a rather poor student-soldier, on part of apathy, but hey. At least, he got Sunbeam (well, borrowed indefinitely) and a potential job if he graduated on time. Nothing could go bad right? Well, his brother died. Void expedition causality, they explained figuring Ulysses would be okay after a session of manly tears and bro-hugs. Unfortunately, they forgot Ulysses had a fraternal complex about his older sibling. He was full of manly grief perhaps a bit over the top. Because he somehow stole his brother's flaming warsteed and accidentally smash that into his family mansion's front gate thanks to lack of skill and stupid decisions. Everyone survived thanks to dumb, stupid luck but Ulysses knew he can't really stay there anymore even though he technically didn't break any laws. It's because he was shamed. Being shamed is probably the worst thing a Jobsworthian can ever feel. With the clothes on his back, he went off. Sunbeam on his side. Inventory: 1 Gold. Blank Tome. Pencil. Sword that is fifty percent iron and fifty percent useless.

Player:

Anomaly

Name:

Sargas Kartyss

Ethnicity/Race: Vabzdyn Hailing from the vast southeastern deserts, the Vabzdyn are a race of humanoid arthropods rarely seen outside of their homeland, let alone in human lands. As they are often fiercely xenophobic, it is equally rare to see other races in their lands. The Vabzdyn superficially resemble humans in body shape, a fact largely negated by the exoskeleton covering their bodies, their large, solid-black eyes, and a second pair of arms below the first, among other traits. Extensive disguising is required for them to blend in among humans, though few find reason to venture outside of their desert. Though their settlements tend to lie near large oasi or rivers, the Vabzdyn can subsist on lower amounts of food and water than the typical human, and are fairly heat-tolerant. Conversely, they have shorter lifespans than humans, rarely living longer than 45-50 years. Culture: Lygiat The Vabzdyn of the Republic of Lygiat are somewhat of an outlier amongst their kind. A moderate-sized nation containing several towns and a few notable cities, Lygiat is most notable for its wells and aqueducts, drawing water from a large, underground aquifer. This aquifer has made Lygiat especially prosperous as compared to other Vabzdyn nations, allowing for limited agriculture in the largely inhospitible desert. The population of Lygiat is both larger and, generally, healthier than most other Vabzdyn, leading to a perceived superiority in addition to resentment from the lessfortunate, often nomadic groups, sometimes resulting in raids. Due to the short lifespan of the Vabzdyn, worship of the god of Time is widespread, especially in Lygiat. There exists a large class of priests and monks dedicated to this deity, a select few of which make pilgrimages to distant lands, disguising themselves to blend in with the locals and preaching the ways of Time. Attributes: Strength - 5/20 Dexterity - 6/20 Academics - 7/20 Wisdom - 12/20 Skills: Faith - 14 Survival - 1 Linguistics - 5 (Lygiatian, Allegorian) Social - 5 Biography: Sargas was raised from birth in the ways of the God of Time, taught to respect the flow of time and not waste a moment of his life needlessly. Time lost,

after all, can never be regained, and it is critical to make the most of the time you are given. Throughout his life, he heard of those who wasted time, who could have contributed their skills to society but instead chose to waste away, focusing their lives on their own pleasure and endlessly putting off things that mattered. To the followers of Time, there is no greater sin than wasted time, wasted potential. Every second counts. Sargas's parents, nobles and devout followers of Time, were in charge of one of the plantations of Lygiat, outside the city of Tsiskai, overseeing the growth of crops vital to Tsiskai's population. They offered their first hatchling to the monasteries in their devotion to Time, and, due to their status in society, he was deemed fit to become a priest. Twenty-five long years later, after his parents had died of old age, Sargas, now a respected priest, began his pilgramage to the human lands. He had become fluent in the Allegorian language, able to speak it with only a hint of an accent, and had studied their culture enough to not make himself immediately obvious. He took up the traditional garments of human pilgrimage - a large cloak, draped over garments covering every inch of his body (including his lower two arms); boots identical externally to those worn by humans, though internally fitted to his own anatomy; face-obscuring scarves; round, tinted lenses obscuring his eyes; and a widebrimmed hat, shrouding his head in shadow. He wouldn't be able to stay in the same place for too long once he reached his destination - people might get suspicious if he stuck around. Taking up little more than a nondescript walking stick, a holy book, and a few basic supplies, Sargas set off for the cold, wet lands of the west, to teach the humans the error of their ways. Starting Gold: 34 Inventory: Walking stick, Book of Time, 8-inch knife, 3 water canisters (empty)

Player:

Vancho1

Name:

Jenova Abba

Ethnicity: Rumonian Culture: Venotian Attributes: Strength - 9/20 Dexterity - 10/20 Academics - 8/20 Wisdom - 5/20 Intelligence - Educated. She learned to read and write from her parents, and the Order's schooling gives her an advantage over the common folk. Skills: Linguistics (10) (Rumonian [Base], Metalfolk, Forefolk) Craft (10) Metal Working: Iron. Metal Working: Gold. Culture: Music[Ethnic Bonus] Social (4 + 1 [Linguistics Bonus] = 5) Riding (1) Biography: "A goldsmith is a goldsmith! I can't do this!" The soldier stood still, patiently waiting at the door. A long white cloak blocking the way. Standing with no malice, yet still aggressive. "Everyone must do his or her part. It is for the good. It is for the Light." Her father was there in his apron, coming from long hours at the forge: melting gold, pouring, shaping, crafting, putting his heart and soul into every order. And now the men in the white cloaks came every day. And every day he argued with them. Pleaded. Begged. But every night, he worked longer and longer, hammer blows echoing through the house. It was a small house - a small house for a small family. The largest room was dedicated to the forge; the next biggest was the shop. The family lived in the other two, one for cooking, eating, and talking, and the other for sleeping, painting, playing the lute, always her mother's passion, and reading. The bookcase took up almost as much room as her parents' bed. She slept on the floor. They were well off. Better than the peasants, at least. Better than the food and wool merchants. A goldsmith could get much more money for less work. Sure, sometimes work was lacking, but people were always getting married. Heirlooms needed repairing. He did silversmithing on the side as well. They had a box of coins, locked away, in case of an emergency.

When the white-cloaked men came to the city, nothing much happened. A white banner replaced that of the Federation. The city's keep was full of new people. Things were even a little better. The Whitecloaks took the street urchins and gave them food, clothes, a place to stay. Some of her playmates (always a secret from her strict mother, and always the receivers of candy from her father) were taken in. They didn't come out so often, but when they did, it seemed like they were doing well. Then the requests came. The butcher complained that they bought too much meat. The grocer couldn't restock vegetables. And soon, they started knocking on her father's door. He refused them every time. And every time they came, he worked for nights afterward, banging away at a dented piece of armor or a broken sword. Soon, the family was opening the chest of coins. One day, it was for a silk ribbon. The next, for a new chair. Soon, the pile began dwindling, as more and more was spent on mending clothes, fixing the house, and even more basic necessities. The whitecloaks were always apologetic, they always gave enough to feed the family and offered help if times were hard. But they were a proud people. Why should they take help from the hands of others when they could help themselves? The schools were taken over by the whitecloaks. Her mother couldn't teach her anymore - she had started working as a seamstress by day, and singing in the tavern at night. Her father worked all day on the ever-increasing amounts of arms. Even then, they barely could maintain their lives. So she was sent to the school, to learn the ways of the whitecloaks, and to learn skills to help her parents. The whitecloaks took her as an Initiate in the schools, and taught her the Word and the Holy Mission of the Order. She learned the Metalfolk language the Order's Knights spoke, as well as the language of their allies, the Wulfghren. She learned how to converse with others, and how to use the skills she learned from her father to help people. She wasn't cut out to be a crusader, nor was she a scholarly type that would be taken by the magi. Her mentor in education was a Dealer, the second tier of the Knights of Caspar. He gave her scripture from Caspar to help her talk to others. She graduated from the school, and went back to work for her father. But something in them had changed. Or it was she who had changed. They were more apprehensive around their daughter. She hadn't lost any of the dexterity in metalworking, nor her love of music, but the Order had left a mark, real or imagined, upon her. She was still Rumonian in her eyes, but in theirs, she was one of the whitecloaks' people. They had taken her away. And no amount of pleading and arguing could convince them. Rejection drove her back to the Order, at least for a little. She studied. She worked under the garrison smith. She even rose to Aspirant quickly, and was on her way to becoming an Officer. But something was missing. Something was wrong. She

requested to go on a journey. A quest to see the world. To find herself. To help people, and to help keep back the dark. The smith, one rank above her, disapproved. Her mentor, now a Speaker and head of the Caspar Branch for all childrens' schools, was disappointed. But she knew she could not stay. The stares of those not in the Order frightened her. The looks of disdain at her cloak, even though she was one of them. The sense of betrayal when the Order took metal and cloth for their Knights and left the people with nothing. She knew that they were fighting for a good cause, fighting to save them all, but the townspeople didn't understand. And that drove her away. A letter appeared at her room, a solitary cell in a barracks crowded with others working for the Order. The Magnate of Caspar, one of the heads of the Commandery, requested her presence. She went without fear. She explained that she needed to go. The Magnate looked at her. Examined her features. The Venotian nose. The skin, darker than that of the isolated Artians. But most of all, the sad eyes. The look of loss. Of alienation. And the slightest twinkle of hope. She stood at the city gates, white cloak wrapped around her, letter of promotion and Questing release in one hand, the reins of a horse in the other. The Order had given her what she requested - food, metalworking tools, money, a horse, a bound copy of Three Disciples, even a lute to keep her company on the road. Finally, Jenova Abba, Officer of the Order of Malakon, Goldsmith by trade and Ironsmith by profession, independent woman, was finally ready to leave the city of her birth. Where her quest would take her, Malakon Knows. Jenova arrives at the Harvest Festival a little worse for wear. There were Porttowners who did not take kindly to her cloak, but she managed to beat them off. She thanked her father for giving her his smith's arms, for though she was trained a little in weapons as part of her education, she quickly forgot it under the tutelage of the Branch of Caspar. Caspar's disciples preferred diplomacy over fighting, and cunning over strength. She isn't sure that smithing fits quite into Caspar's fold, but merchants take him as their patron Sage, so she supposes that as a smith, she is also a merchant. She still hasn't found a direction, though hopefully this festival will give her one. Jenova plans on finding a group of adventurers and offering to maintain their arms while travelling for a share of the profits. She wasn't entirely useless in a fight either, though anyone with a weapon would probably hurt her before she could swing her hammer into the fray. No matter. She would stick near the magi. Catch anyone who slipped through the fighters. Jenova hopes that she's convincing enough, and that her cloak does more good than harm with her potential party. Starting Gold:150 Player:

Purple Walrus

Name:

Derek Driftwood

Ethnicity: Half Elf Culture: Port Towner Attributes: Strength - 5 Dexterity - 16 Academics - 5 Wisdom - 1 Skills: Linguistics (1) Magic skill (2) First: Invisibility Stealth (12) [+1] Ranged weapon (10)[+4] First: Longbow, Second: Throwing daggers, Third: Smoke bombs Social (5)

Biography: Derek was an orphan as long has he can remember. He was found on some driftwood that was washed up on the beach. Luckily, or unluckily for him he was picked up by a lowly thief. The thief named him Derek Driftwood, because his name was also Derek and he thought himself quite the joker. The thief took the young Derek back to his hideout in an abandoned house. There, the Thief raised Derek as his little accomplice in crime. He taught Derek the art of pickpocketing, the best ways to picklocks, and how to move as silently as a cat. The Thief did not know that Derek was a Half Elf, he just thought Derek had weird looking ears. 12 years later and the Thief was getting tired of having to feed two mouths. Derek hadn't paid for himself as the thief would have hoped. The thief soon decided that he would sell the 12 year old into slavery and started to make arrangements. Unfortunately for the Thief, Derek had good hearing and could hear all of the Thief's plotting. So when the Thief did eventually persuade slavers to come, but all he found when he got back to his hideout was half his loot gone and a little note saying, "Better luck next time asshole!". So after running away from the only home he ever knew, Derek began his life as a con artist. Card games, games of chance, shell game, he did them all. As a result he was even better with his hands. He even bet large amounts of money that he could throw a dagger at an apple without it falling over. As the years went by, Derek soon realised that people didn't like guys that had more pointed ears than average, so he started to wear big hats to cover his ears. He also discovered after "acquiring" a spell book from a mage that he could make some objects and himself slightly transparent. It made his work sightly easier, providing it worked that is. As the years went by, Derek's acts become even more elaborate, with him running up walls then back flipping then shooting an arrow through five apples in a row then landing safely and kissing a fair lady's hand. All

while robbing them of their valuables. He is probably the best street performer/con artist in all of Port-Town, or so he likes to think.

Appearance: He looks a bit thin and gangly because eating just gruel all your life isn't exactly nutritious. He likes to wear bright and colourful clothes that are flexible to move in. He also wears big hats that cover his ears. He almost never shows his face to anyone. He instead prefers to use a wide range of masks to express his emotions. Inventory: Six masks each having a different expression; happy, sad, confused, angry, shocked, and sinister. Five daggers Longblow Smoke bombs Three shells Dreck of cards Small sack