# Exclusive Contest!  Todd Lockwood draws your character! [NO MORE ENTRIES!]



## Kai Lord

Hey,

God's been really good to me so I'm going to purchase some art for someone I don't even know.    The fun part is that it will be an original pencil drawing by *Todd Lockwood* of *your character!*  

To enter all you have to do is post a description of your character on this thread.  Be as concise or detailed as you want.  Describe the character in action, or anything about him or her.  Post as many characters as you like.

I'll choose my favorite 20 characters and send them to Todd.  He will choose his ten favorites and then I'll start a poll on a different thread allowing the members of ENWorld to vote for their favorite of the final ten.  I will take the top three choices and pass them on to Todd, who will choose the character he will draw.

The winner will have the original sent to his or her home, and I will post a scan in the Art Gallery for everyone to drool over.

Todd was flattered to hear that he received the highest number of votes in the recent Favorite Artist polls on this messageboard, and has enthusiastically agreed to do this.

I will leave this thread open for submissions until August 1st, then I will post the top ten on August 15th.  

Todd will draw the winning character in the fall of this year.  If you want to view any of his work in the meantime you may visit www.toddlockwood.com.  He will maintain publishing rights to the piece.  Well that's all there is to it, I'll make some strategic bumps between now and August.  Good luck and I can't wait to see your characters!  No matter how many are posted I'll read each and every one.  Have fun!


----------



## Knightfall

*My first submission!*

Kai Lord, you're both a genius and an extermely nice person to come up with this contest.  Here is my first submission.

Cheers!

KF72
===================

*Crystal Tigerstorm, The Silver Witch*
*Stats:* hf / 12th level wizard (necromancer) / neutral good

*Personality:* Devoted, imposing and enigmatic

*Description:* Crystal is 5'11" with long, flowing blonde hair, deep blue eyes, and is incredibly beautiful (men tend to gawk with their mouths open). She use to be a necromancer and is still fond of wearing dark foreboding clothes. She always wears a silver star pendant (an _amulet of health_), which was her mother's, as well as simple, yet elegant silver rings, bracelets, and fine metal cords braided into her hair on the left side. She always wears silver colored lipstick and nail polish. Her garments are always fine silk, which can be too revealing sometimes. She always wears more modest undergarments under these clothes coving her from just above the breast to just above the knees. She prefers soft leather boots, or sandals if she is going to be inside. She carries a powerful variant of a _staff of power_, shod in silver with a 3D silver star on the top (multiple star points in every direction - like a starburst).

*Background:* Crystal Tigerstorm is the grand daughter of Carl Tigerstorm and one of the most loyal members of the Tiger Guild of Fruen.  Her youth is full of strife and darkness.  Her father, Garth, knew nothing about her birth, as her mother, a woman Crystal doesn't remember, died in childbirth.  Thus, Crystal was raised in an orphanage in Massalia, an old Sword Imperium city – totally oblivious to her birthright.  Sold into the service of a local necromancer when she was eight, Crystal languished as common house servant for years under her master's harsh whip.  Only when she started to show aptitude as a wizard did the old man stop beating her and made her his apprentice.

It was the first of several mistakes that would eventually cost him his life.  For while Crystal eagerly took to the old wizard's teachings to heart, she hated the old man and used all her skills and wit to lull him into a false sense of security.  As she grew to womanhood the old codger fell in love with her and she used all her charms and considerable beauty to trick the old necromancer into showing her his most spells.  She then killed the old fool, flailing the skin from his body and burning his flesh and bones into ashes.  The apprentice had become the master or mistress so to speak.

Crystal then set upon finding out who her parents were.  She seduced all her master's colleagues in the Aras Guild of Massalia and forced the owner of the orphanage to spill his guts, literally.  She used up all of her old master's magical items and possessions to buy powerful divination scrolls.  Finally, she tracked down her grandfather in Fruen and went to confront the family that had abandoned her.  What she found was a strong willed, righteous man that had didn't have a clue what the hell she was talking about.  His son Garth had only ever had one relationship that he knew of and that was with a young elven druid, Eiithinia Starchild.

But to her surprise, he summoned for his son and swore that if Crystal was indeed family - she would be welcomed into the Tigerstorm family with open arms.  Garth arrived at his father's guildhall in Fruen to find a charming young woman who looked exactly like a young priestess he had fought beside, and had fallen in love with, a long time ago.  Crystal's mother had been a cleric of Jalivier named Dawn Almondsky who Garth believed had died near the end of the Second Ogre War.  He hadn't seen her for forty years and was positive that he couldn't be Crystal' s father.  She was too young.

Crystal didn't believe him and swore she would make him suffer for denying her right to call herself a Tigerstorm.  She stormed out of the room leaving the two men to speculate about the truth.  After she had gone Carl asked his son, "Are you sure that she's not your daughter, after all she has your temperament."  Garth left Fruen after that, while Carl tried to unravel the young woman's origin. 

Crystal was angry, but more then that she was heartbroken.  She was sure that she was a Tigerstorm she could feel it.  If they would not admit she was one of them then she would take the Tiger Guild by force.  She would claim her birthright, even if she had to kill them all.  Years of abuse and frustration took over and she fell in league with the growing hordes of evil humanoids and soldiers planning to lay siege to Fruen.  She rode near the front as the hordes moved towards the city.  The armies of Thallin moved to meet them, with several prominent adventurers leading the charge, including Garth and his half-elven son, Dabuk. 

Dabuk and Crystal met on the battlefield and something spoke to the young half-elven ranger.  Somehow he felt he knew this person, felt a kinship with her.  She too felt something and the two just stood there looking at each other.  When Garth came across the two of them staring at each other, he knew they were indeed brother and sister.  "I don't know how, but you are my daughter.  Together, we will find the truth.  I swear it by the love of a father who did not know." 

Crystal's eyes swelled up with tears.  No one had ever cared about her before, no one had truly ever loved her.  But this man did - she could see it.  What was she doing?  This was her family she was a Tigerstorm!  Her eyes went wide and she turned on her former allies.  She rocked the hordes of darkness with lightning bolts and clouds of magical death.  She rode into the fray with wild abandon hacking at gnolls and dark soldiers with her stiletto dagger in one hand and casting deadly necromantic magic with the other. 

"Boy, does she ever have you temper."  Garth could only nod his head at his son's words. 

As time passed, Crystal gave up the Dark Arts completely.  She traced her mother's ancestry to the city of Magdalene in Navirosov and claimed her birthright there as well.  The granddaughter of a noblewoman, Lady Elaine Almondsky, who had given up hope after Dawn's disappearance.  Finding Crystal was like getting her daughter back.  Together they unraveled the mystery of Lady Almondsky's daughter. 

Somehow after conception of her child, Dawn had become trapped in a magical stasis field and Garth was sure she was dead.  However, before the body could be buried, it disappeared.  The wizards of the Aras Guild had stolen the body intending to use it in some future, dark experimentation.  For years Dawn laid dormant in the stasis field and it was only when a lowly apprentice figured out that the body was not decaying that she was brought to the attention of the masters of the guild. 

Fearing that someone might learn of the woman's plight, the wizards removed the stasis field and had her dumped in the slums of Massalia.  Dawn quickly came to term and died during the birth.  It had been the stasis field that had given Crystal her uncanny gift of magic.  Against the wishes of her new grandmother, who feared she'd lose her granddaughter like she did her daughter, Crystal returned to Massalia and brought the Aras Guild to justice – her justice (not that there is any real justice in Massalia).  She then returned her mother's body to Magdalene and buried her in the Almondsky family crypt, taking a powerful magical staff with her from the fallen wizards’ guild. 

She then went back to Fruen to stay with her grandfather, vowing to her grandmother that she would visit her as often as possible.  She swore fealty to the Tiger Guild and her grandfather and has not left his side since.  She gets along well enough with her father but feels closer to Carl.  She has become fond of a young knight, travelling with her brother, named Sir Mojo Rising.  It might be the first time in her life that she truly cares for a man for who he is and not what he can do for her.  However, she is reluctant to speak of her feelings to anyone but her grandfather.


----------



## KingOfChaos

*Zanatose Everhate*

Keep in mind, this character is now a deity in my version of the Forgotten Realms.  So he may sound a bit..munchkiny   I use him instead of Velsharoon..who I think is incompetent 

As a towering pillar of muscled darkness, Zanatose Everhate stands a massive 15 ft. tall, draped in midnight robes of his station as the Arch Necromancer of the Realms.  Being in posession of a body carved from obsidian, the Arch Necromancer appears to be an obsidian golem shaped to look like an battle hardened drow male (with a more human-looking body than the graceful elven form).  His old body, that of a dessicated drow lich, lies encapsuled inside the stone that now contains his life essence and serves as his body.

His head, containing no decoration appearing as hair, is smooth, shiney, and covered in runic carvings which spill lavender and black flames all along his head and shoulders.  This 'shadow mantle' crackles constantly, but doesn't seem to affect any of his clothing or items that might be around his head.  His eyes are two large blood rubies which seem as expressive and pliable as living eyes.  His face is sharp and angular (being made of hard to carve volcanic glass, one can expect that) with his chin being a flat chisled plain.  A smile never crosses this creature's face, but it isn't known whether or not if it was carved like that or if he is just never satisfied with his own 'imperfections'.  Unlike golems, Zanatose Everhate still moves as a living creature having no noticeable segments at the joints suggesting the body he possesses is fake at all.

His clothing is a volumous robe which remains open most of the time to show his chiseled chest and abdominal muscles (Think of the way Yul Brenner dressed in the 'King and I').  The robe itself seems to move as if in pain from touching its wearer.  Faces, tortured and silently screaming, often form within its folds as he moves.  When light shines upon it, noticeable runes can be seen floating and moving along the cloth.  A belt of human and humanoid faces (sewn together at the sides) wraps his waist like a sash, holding spell component pouches in their sewn shut mouths.  His massive legs are wrapped from his waist to just above his 'ankles' in black strips of cloth reminescent of a burial shroud (made to capture bodily fluids during mummification). His 'feet' aren't feet at all, but were completely carved to resemble boots.

Zanatose's weapons are a staff which is more than 20 ft. in length called 'Archimedes of the Huddled Masses', his spells, and the foot long razor claws which tip each of his unnatural fingers.  Archimedes is a adamantite shaft decorated with thousands of precious black gems.  The far end of the staff ends in a massive killing fork weapon and the three dimensional illusion of a skull which floats at the top of the staff spins and cackles manically in hundreds of different voices (thus, the 'Huddled Masses' title).  This intelligent weapon never leaves Zanatose's possession and can always be seen within at least 30 ft. of the god of necromancy.  The weapon is quite insane, being embeded with souls from when Zanatose was still 'mortal' and used it in combat.  These souls often become the staff's dominant personality and annoy the lich-god to no end.  His last weapon is a massive spellbook which is seemingly tied to his left hand by a thread of darkness.  This book contains all necromancy spells which exist and those that will be created in the future of the Forgotten Realms.  It has no specific appearance, as it constantly changes to resemble each and every book in which a new necromancy spell is penned.  When a new spell is created, the book instantly changes to appear as the first book it is placed in.

(Since this is a character portrait, I will omit the background description  )

To help with the description of Archimedes   I'll add a few 3D images a friend did of the weapon.


----------



## Angcuru

First off, you are an awesome guy to set this up.  Pay it forward, man, pay it forward.

Kai, I have a question for you.  In all honesty, my favorite character is the one whom I played through the Balur's Gate series with.  This character has been much further developed past the end of that experience, however. But anyway, back to the question. Would you have any problem with this character, and would you rather I submit one from my current D&D campaign? I would submit both, however, they both have the same first name.


----------



## Dark Jezter

Well, since I'm a big fan of Todd Lockwood's art, I'd better submit my Scarred Lands character.

*Conall Sigurd.  Male Human Bbn3/Ftr2*

*Appearance:*

Conall is very large man, standing at 6'3" and weighing 230 pounds, with broad shoulders and a heavily muscled build. He has coarse brown hair (different from the usual Albadian colors of blonde or red, this trait is inherited from his maternal Grandfather, an exile from the south who was adoped by the Sigurd clan), skin which has been burned brown from endless days under the sun, and cold green eyes. His body bears many scars from the battles he has fought in, but he treats them as badges of honor, and does not try to hide them. He also has a few tattoos, such as a clan tattoo on his right arm, one on his left shoulder blade commemmorating his first kill at the age of fourteen, and a third on his left wrist for his ascention to adulthood. Although he usually sports a beard, Conall is currently clean-shaven to make himself less-recognizable to those who mean to harm him.

Conall is quiet most of the time, although he can be surprisingly contemplative. In the company of friends, however, he can be loud and full of joy. He loves a good joke, wild parties, and a good challange, be it a drinking contest or a wrestling match. He has a somewhat darwinian outlook on life; he admires strength and courage and abhors weakness and cowardice. True to his barbaric haritage, he is blunt in his dealings with others, and if he dosen't like you he'll make sure that you know it.

Currently, Conall is 23 years old, but has fought many battles in his life, and is as familiar with battle as many veterans several years older than himself.

*History:*

Conall was born in one of the many barbarian tribes that dwell in the harsh northern land of Albadia. As with most men in his tribe, he began weapon training at a young age, and has also fought orcs and rival barbarian tribes alongside his clansmen. He heard about the civilized lands from travelers passing through, and has travelled there in search of wealth and glory working as a mercenary.

Leaving his clan at the age of seventeen, Conall travelled around the frontier working odd jobs for a year until was able to find work as a mercenary in one of the many city-states south of Albadia (during this year of wandering, he gains another level in barbarian), where barbarians mercenaries are welcome because of their savagery and toughness. Conall spent three years employed as a fighting man, learning the way civilized men fight and gaining more combat expirience fighting in border disputes and hunting bandits. (During this period, Conall gained two levels in fighter).    

His stay in the city was ended, though, when he was confronted in a tavern by a military officer who had consumed a little too much alcohol. The officer made insulting remarks towards Conall, and the hot-tempered young barbarian, who would not simply take the verbal lashing as a civilized man would, struck the officer with an open hand. After the man rose back to his feet, he reached for his sword and swore to kill Conall, who responded by crushing the man's skull with a bludgeon. Unfortunately for Conall, the officer was the nephew of the city's Governer. Conall should have never escaped the city alive, but he gained the aid of an elf rogue named Aust Nalio, who was able to smuggle Conall outside the city walls by leading him through a network of alleyways and underground tunnels.

After the escape, Conall and Aust eventually parted ways, but not before a friendship had formed between the two. The young barbarian then set out on his own again, wandering the countryside while working odd jobs where his formidable combat skills could be put to use (Gaining another level in barbarian in the process). The governer whom he had offended was still sore over the loss of his nephew, though, and he dispatched bounty hunters to track down and kill Conall. The bounty hunters persued him deep into the woods of Galeeda's grove, where Conall stumbled into a cave which appeared to be an old tomb, but was in actuality inhabited by a lich. The bounty hunters chased their prey into the cave, where a battle broke out. Conall killed two of them before the cave's owner noticed and descended on them. While the lich was busy killing the intruders, Conall snuck away, but not before grabbing an enchanted chain shirt and sword from the lich's treasure horde. Upon returning to civilization, Conall met up with a young (at least young as far as elves go) elf ranger named Sylvia. Admiring the girl's spirit and familiarity with weapons, Conall decided to share a meal with her at a local tavern, and that's where the campaign begins...

*Goals:*

Conall dosen't fight for any noble purpose. He desires wealth, power, and excitement. He loves strong drink, red meat, women, and the thrill of combat.

*Family:*

Conall is the son of Conrack and Vidgis Sigurd.  His father is the most senior warrior of the clan, and is respected throughout the region as a deadly combatant.  His younger brother, Oswold Sigurd, is a druid instead of a warrior, and he helps ensure the survival of his clan by providing them with healing, knowledge about where game can be found, and divine magic in times of battle.  His sister, Rann, is the youngest child of the family, and so far she seems to desire nothing more than a quiet life.  Conall has not had contact with his family since he left them six years ago, although they parted on good terms, and his family respected his desire for adventure and glory in combat.


----------



## Kai Lord

Angcuru said:
			
		

> *First off, you are an awesome guy to set this up.  Pay it forward, man, pay it forward.
> 
> Kai, I have a question for you.  In all honesty, my favorite character is the one whom I played through the Balur's Gate series with.  This character has been much further developed past the end of that experience, however. But anyway, back to the question. Would you have any problem with this character, and would you rather I submit one from my current D&D campaign? I would submit both, however, they both have the same first name. *



You're more than welcome to post the Baldur's Gate character if that's the one you'd most like to see drawn by Todd.


----------



## boxstop7

Holy crap, Kai!  You're awesome!  You just shot to the top of my "nice guy" list.  Allow me to throw my character into the mix, if it's okay...



*Elisuon of the House Protectorate* 

Ftr3/Rog3, CG High Elf, male

Stats: STR 14, DEX 20, CON 14, INT 16, WIS 14, CHA 15

Personality:  Calm, pensive, thorough, creative with his rapier, and somewhat arrogant

Description: Elisuon has blonde hair and green eyes.  He stands 5' 3" with a slender, muscular build.  He wears a mithral chain shirt and a mithral buckler on his left arm.  A beautifully crafted rapier (akin to an epee) hangs as his left hip, a dagger at his right hip.  A backpack and composite longbow hang from his back.  He also wears a signet ring of the House Protectorate on his left hand.  Leather covers what parts of his anatomy that aren't protected by the chain shirt.  In combat, he prefers precision strikes, feints and disarming his foe.  He relies on balance, timing and quickness to overcome his opponent.

Elisuon speaks:  "Ahh, the House Protectorate.  My service, my life, and sometimes my prison.  But I shant get into such matters immediately.  Instead, I must share my lovely childhood.  As a boy, I was often told that my destiny was with the House, but it never held my passion.  My father was a champion swordsman, one of the finest my people have known.  Though he served with other races, their brutish skills never had an influence on my dear father.  To him, as it is to me, swordplay is an art.  Each swordsman bears his soul with his blade, and I am no exception.  I began studying the art of the rapier at a very young age indeed.  By the time I was called upon to serve the House, I had mastered many of my father’s lessons.  My relationship with the House has never been more than lukewarm; we merely tolerate each other’s presence.  I because I am sworn to serve, and it because I am a valuable asset.  I fondly remember my first day of “training”.  Standard issue for incoming soldiers is a long sword…such a crude and unrefined weapon.  I refused my issued weapon, favoring my expertly balanced rapier instead.  My commander insisted and attempted to force the sword upon me.  In a flash of brilliance (though some would claim luck), I withdrew my rapier and disarmed my commander without so much as a scratch left on the man.  I spent three days in confinement for the smug grin that spread across my face, but I was permitted to train with my rapier from that point forward.  I benefited much from the training with the other cadets, as did they from me.  Handling my weapon was not of issue.  I focused instead on my tactical training.  I was quickly moved into an advanced class, where I eagerly absorbed lessons on psychological swordplay: degradation of the enemy, diversionary tactics, advanced parries and rapid disarmament of my foe.  My father was allowed to further train me in these tactics, as I required a mentor of equal or greater skill with my blade.  My father taught me that a quick mind is just as important as a quick wrist; a lesson I learned many times over.  
	"My rapid advancement through training made me a prime candidate for early graduation and placement.  My father was so proud on graduation day.  And on that day I was immediately introduced to the unit I would eventually lead.  We worked together on nearly every task.  Once we had passed our leadership and cooperative tests, we were officially introduced to the House Protectorate as a service unit, and my life has become considerably more leisurely since then.  Since the House only calls us to active duty sporadically, we instead spend much of our time in briefings and further training (though not nearly as intense as the cadets).  I spend much of my time educating myself on the art and theory of fencing, as well as daily meets with my father.  His mind is so sharp, and his hands so quick!  His reflexes…he anticipates my every move, and always has a counterstrike ready.  How I love the lessons he teaches me!  My proudest day will come when I finally best my father in a match…and I believe his pride will even exceed my own.  But sadly, I fear that day must wait.  Word has arrived that my unit is to be dispatched on urgent business.  The briefing is tomorrow morning.  I wonder what task could be so pressing..."


----------



## Angcuru

Thank you for clearing that up, Kai Lord.  I'll be writing up the description in notepad and posting as an edit to this post at a later date.


----------



## Andrew D. Gable

Excellent!  I must enter.  Here is my iconic character, the one that was first a PC and now appears in all my campaigns...

_*Flynn Stormshadow*_
17th level Half Elf Ranger

A half elf hailing from the borderlands of the Deeping Frith (a forest IMC), Flynn is a tireless enemy of evil and famed champion of good and hero to the local peasantry.  All this and few have clearly seen their savior, and even fewer know his true name.  Were his name to be known, Flynn would find himself hunted by the dwarven forces of the north.  

Appearance: Flynn often dresses in a plain, unadorned black cloak.  He wears a suit of studded leather armor, and often greets his enemies with a red-fletched shaft from his longbow, "Rowan".  If engaged in a melee fight, he can defend himself amply with the shortsword he carries at his side.


----------



## Knightfall

*My second submission*

*Dabuk Tigerstorm, Stalker*

*Stats:* ½em / 5th level ranger (Rillifane), 2nd level stalker / chaotic good

*Personality:* Somber, serious, and slightly jaded

*Weapons:* Dagger, shortbow w/ masterwork arrows

*Gear:* Leather armor, breeches, tunic, hard-leather boots, hooded cloak, backpack, waterskin, belt pouch, plus any wilderness survival essentials. Dabuk is practical when it comes to being prepared.

*Magic:* Short sword +1; curved blade with etched runes along the length of the blade.

*Species Enemy:* Ogres

*Description:* Dabuk is very average looking for a half-elf (Cha 11), tending towards non-descript clothing. He is hardened, like a soldier that has seen way to much combat (Str 16, Dex 13, Con 15). His face would be able to express many masks of emotion, but those feeling would never touch his soul. He is calculating and has strength of will (Int 15, Wis 14). He doesn't trust or love easily but is loyal to his family, especially his grandfather.

*Background:* Dabuk grew up without a mother and a father that he hardly ever saw.  His split heritage allows him two places that he calls home.  His mother was a forest elf druid from Woodknot, Eiithinia Starchild, and his father is the human ranger, Garth Tigerstorm.  Both were heroes in the Second Ogre War.

From a young age he was closer to his grandfather than anyone, which ultimately lead to Dabuk joining the Tiger Guild in the Kingdom of Thallin.  The young half-elf thrived in the city and applied his natural wilderness talents in the city as well.

In fact, Dabuk is as a good a tracker as his father in the wilderness and can also out-track most of his fellow guild members through the streets of Fruen.  However, he shines the most when in the forests around Woodknot.  Not that he's been allowed there since the Therani Clan Elders cutoff the region from the rest of Harqual.

This has annoyed the young ranger, as he is no longer able to visit his mother's druidic grove.  And he would be heartbroken to find out that Woodknot has been overrun by fiends that have defiled the region around the grove.  And while it still stands, it won't be long before the wards put in place, to protect the grove begin to fail.

Dabuk hates ogres with a passion due to the fact that it was a group of ogres that killed his mother and his Aunt Lisa-Ann.  He is positive that ogres were also responsible for the death of his Uncle Kevin, after the man disappeared trying to locate the ogres that killed his wife.

*Telling Moments in his Life (Taken from my Story Hour)*

_In the following passage, Dabuk’s cousin Bactra Redwind shares ‘the memory’ of Dabuk witnessing his mother’s death with their friend and traveling companion, the gnome Thessa._

*From the Journal of Bactra Redwind*
Two nights have past since Rikin staggered up the hill. In those two nights we rested in relative peace. Nothing came out of the night to stalk us. We all agreed that Thessa's god was with us those nights and we named the small mound of earth and grass Baervan's Hill in honor of the God of Wanderers. Thessa was touched by our gesture and marked the hill as holy to her God.

We left the hill several hours ago and have been traveling non-stop towards the eastern coast of the continent. Thessa told us that while the desert does stretch nearly to the coast the conditions wouldn't be as hostile in that direction. Only time will tell...

...We reached the shore just before twilight making camp near the water but far enough away not to be caught between the land and the sea, just in case.

The sea air is doing wonders for Mesik's recovery. He limped for a while but has steadily been getting better. Rikin isn't doing as well but hasn't complained. He's definitely different then Dvalin. More reserved. More calm.

Thessa calls the waters off the coast the Karmine Sea. My tutor in Woodknot always referred to the great sea beyond the Sunus and Thunder Mountains as the Sea of Deep Waters. Thessa has never heard of the Karmine Sea being referred to with a different name. Something else that I'll have to discuss with the Elders once we're home again.

We watched as the sun set over the water. It was an amazing mixture of colors over the water...

...The next morning brings the dawn over the Great Expanse. We continue north along the coast with Dabuk in the lead. He is becoming more distant as we go further and further north. I was expecting it.

Thessa didn't understand. I tried to explain it to her later that night as the others slept during my watch.

"Dabuk's mother was killed by ogres when he was very young. He watched it happen. He was never the same after that. The news of ogres being on the move is obviously upsetting him."

"Poor dear, I wish I could do something to ease his pain."

"Thessa," I put a hand up shaking my head. "Don't even mention it to him."

"But surely you realize such hate is going to be the death of him."

"Yes, I know." I pulled my cloak around myself more tightly. Dabuk had insisted that we not light a fire.

"Well then don't you and his family owe it to him to try and help him."

I sighed shaking my head. I'd heard the argument time and time again. I watched my cousin as he slept. His breathing was steady but his twitching body gave away his pain to those that knew what to look for.

"He is dreaming about it right now."

Thessa stared at Dabuk with heart-felt concern in her eyes. "It's that bad."

"Yes," I leaned back staring at the stars. "He shared his dream with me once. He's been having it almost every night since that day."

"Tell me."

I looked at her unable to hold back the tears. "It will get into your soul. You'll never be able to get it out."

"Tell me."

"All right," I studied my cousin carefully making sure he was still dreaming. I beckoned the gnome priestess closer to me. She sat next to me. I took her hand.

"What you are about to experience isn't for the weak of heart. I am not a storyteller. I am a wizard. How I know these events is through Dabuk's eyes. Through what he saw that day and his dream... his nightmare."

"You mean you're going to actually share his dream with me. How is that even possible?"

"It is an elven ritual that allowed me to feel what he felt, see what he saw."

She seemed frightened by that and with good reason. I had begged Dabuk to share his pain with me to understand him better. He had tried in vain to warn me against it but I had persisted.

He and I agreed that if anyone else wanted to know the truth they would have to learn it from me through the power of my magic. Every person who had asked to know this pain had backed down when they learned what it truly meant to 'feel his pain'.

"If you don't want to do it I understand. Sometimes I wish I had never asked him."

"No, I want to do this. It is the way of my God to know those who you travel with. Know them like you know yourself. I must do this."

I was in shock. Thessa squeezed my hand nodding for me to continue.

"I-I really hadn't believed you'd go through with this. Now might not be the best time. It is my watch. The ritual puts me deeper than the Reverie. I won't be able to break it once we've started."

"Well, then wake up Dvalin. He's suppose to be on watch next."

"That really isn't fair to him."

"You're afraid."

"Damn right I'm afraid." Even though the air was cool I was starting to sweat.

"I thought you said I could if I wanted to."

Great, now she was making a liar out of me. "Fine. I'll wake Dvalin."

I found my legs with difficulty. My knees were trembling. I couldn't believe it. I stepped around the others to where Dvalin was snoring softly. I poke him in the ribs.

"Huh...<snort>... what, who?" Dvalin grabbed me by the arm. "Is it 3 o'clock already?"

"No," I knew he was going to be pissed. I whispered to him what Thessa was determined to do.

His eyes bug out. "Did you explain it to her?"

"Yes."

"She's either very brave or completely nuts." Dvalin shivered and not from the cold. "How anyone could want to experience another person's nightmares is beyond me."

"I agree. But she is insistant. I need you to watch the camp."

"Oh damn," Dvalin rubbed the drool out of his beard. "I knew you were going to say that. Go on boy. Just take away from the camp. Down by the sea maybe."

"All right." I looked back at Thessa shaking my head...

...Thessa and I had walked down to the shore together. I tried several times to talk her out of it. She wouldn't give, not an inch. I had to admire her courage.

The ritual could be dangerous to the weak-minded. Not that I thought her mind couldn't take the strain. But it was still dangerous. She was a gnome not an elf. I had been pretty sure that it wouldn't work with someone without elven blood. I was wrong.

We sat in front of each other her hands in mine. I guided her into the deepest parts of my mind. Soon there wasn't any difference between Dabuk's thoughts and our own...

_..."Momma," Dabuk pulled on his mother's skirt. "When is pappa coming home?"

"Soon dear," He and your uncle have work to do."

Dabuk wished his pappa wouldn't go away so much. He missed him. But his work always seemed to come first.

"Bad nasties?"

"Yes Dabuk," Dabuk's mother looked towards the north with a frown. "Bad orcs and ogres."

Dabuk knew that meant his pappa wouldn't be home soon. He sat on the ground next to his house. Well, it wasn't his house really. His pappa built it. He just lived there. His aunty was there too. She always stayed with he and his momma when pappa and uncle went to fight bad nasties.

His mother looked at him shaking her head. "If you're going to mope around. Can you please do it inside? You're going to depress the forest."

"Aw momma," Dabuk rolled his eyes. His momma was one of the elven folk. She had a thing about trees that he really didn't understand. "Trees don't get depressed."

"You wouldn't say that if you knew them."

Dabuk gave up and went inside. The house was a small log cabin near the southern edge of the Great Forest. Dabuk's father, Garth, chose the spot because it was away from the constant skirmishes that continued to flare up after the Second Ogre War ended.

It was clean, neat and spartan. Real boring for a boy barely old enough to tie his own boots.

"Dabuk," The boy's aunt was sitting next to the hearth. "Pestering you're mother again are you?"

"Aw aunty," Dabuk sat down on the floor in a grumpy lump. "It ain't fair. Pappa's never home."

"Isn't dear, it isn't fair."

Dabuk couldn't help but roll his eyes again. "Fine. It isn't fair."

Dabuk laid down his arms and legs flailed out. He hated it when his Aunty Lisa corrected his words. Like it mattered out in the wilderness. He wished he was in Fruen visiting grandpa. At least there was always something to do there.

"Lisa-Anne!" Dabuk's mother cried out from outside.

"Momma?" Dabuk knew that tone. She used it when he wandered off once. His momma had been really worried.

"Eiithinia, what is it?" Dabuk's aunt turned towards the door just as his mother came rushing inside.

Dabuk sat up looking out the door. He didn't see anything out there to be so worried about.

"We have company." Eiithinia scooped up her son closing the door of the cabin.

"Who?"

"Not who, what!"

A gutteral cry came from outside to the west.

"May the North Gods protect us." Dabuk saw fear in both there eyes.

"Ogres."

"B-baddies?"

"Yes my son. Baddies."

Dabuk was scared.

"We have to flee into the forest." Dabuk's aunt was becoming hysterical.

"That won't do any good. I know the forest but you don't sister. Besides, I can't leave. This is my home.

"Dabuk, I need you to go down into the cellar, all right?"

"No! Momma, I want to stay with you!" Dabuk tried not to cry. His pappa told him it wasn't good to cry.

"Dabuk! I can't protect you and your aunt. You'll be safe in the cellar. The baddies aren't smart enough to look for you there if you are completely quiet. I need you to be brave."

Dabuk was blubbering. He wanted to be brave for his momma. But he didn't want to be away from her either.

"But momma... baddies!"

"I know son," She hugged him then handed him to his aunt. "Lisa Anne, I'm counting on you."

"I-I understand."

"Momma!"

Eiithinia grabbed her sword, bow and quiver heading back outside. She slammed the door shut, while her sister locked it from the inside.

A gutteral roar shook the cabin.

"Momma! Momma! Momma!"

"Dabuk! You have to be quiet!"

Dabuk's aunt shook him until he stopped yelling. She threw open the cellar door forcing Dabuk down into the darkness. She slammed the trap door shut pulling the cabin's small table directly over it.

Dabuk watched through the cracks in the floorboards not making a sound. He couldn't have even if he had wanted to.

He heard another gutteral roar and then his aunty screamed. He couldn't tell what was real anymore. The thing roared again and again. Then another roar joined the unholy chorus. He heard the wooden logs crack watching as his aunty screamed again trying to climb out the back window.

She shrieked as a huge hand grabbed her through the window pulling her outside. Then Dabuk heard something he'd never forget the rest of his days. His mother screamed. Then he heard a loud cracking, tearing sound, as the ogres howled in triumph.

He felt the cabin shudder as they ripped away the logs. Then he saw them. They stood higher then the cabin was tall, much higher. They were ugly, inhuman beasts. They ripped the top half of the cabin completely off. They threw out all the furnishings scouring the small dwelling for anything of value.

Dabuk felt death beside him that day. He was sure they'd find him. They howled again in unison and Dabuk clamped his mouth shut while covering his ears. Fear ran through his spine into his heart.

He sat there for hours not moving. Night was coming but the ogres hadn't left yet. He couldn't hear them but he could smell the burning flesh. He forced himself not to cry. He had promised his pappa he'd not cry. He had promised his momma to be brave.

The beasts grunted at each other for hours making sounds like horrible laughter. He gritted his teeth balling his hands into fists. He shook with rage, tears streaming from his eyes. His hands began to bleed where his nails cut into his own flesh.

Then the beasts were gone. He knew it because he couldn't smell them any more. Yet, he didn't move. He sat there in the darkness all night hating...

...Morning came. The dawn pierced through the cracks of the cabin floor unhindered by the shattered roof. Dabuk felt the heat of the sun but felt no comfort or relief. He pushed open the trapdoor with all his strength.

What he found no boy should ever have to see. The burnt logs, the blacked earth, the bones - flesh eaten away. He fell to his knees crying not knowing which was his mother and which was his aunt. He threw up, the stench burning his lungs and eyes.

He was cold, shaking and alone for the first time in the world.

"Momma..." He whimpered. Then he felt it again. The rage burned in him and he screamed at the sky.

"I will kill them all! I will wipe them from the land wherever I go until none are left anywhere! I pledge my life and my soul to this! I will carry my hate as a banner and my rage as my sword! This I swear to my dying day!"_

Then all is black...

...Thessa cried out in pain. She was shaking and Bactra grabbed a hold shaking her. She fought him trying to pull away screaming "Momma, Momma, nooooo!"

"Thessa! Thessa! It's over. The ritual is over. You're safe. Please..."

She blinked. "B-Bactra?"

"Yes, it's over."

"No," Thessa shook her head sobbing uncontrollably. "It will never be over."

"He warned you," I knew his voice even with the waves crashing against the shore. "But you just couldn't let it be."

"Dabuk," Thessa was panting for air. "I'm so sorry-"

"Save it!" Dabuk rose his voice his rage coming to the surface. "I don't want you're pity or your sympathy. What I want is for you to kill as many of them as you can when the times comes."

"I-I don't know if I can."

"Oh you will. There's no avoiding it now. It's like my cousin said. It's in you now. You'll never get it out."

"I'm not you!"

Dabuk laughed his voice echoing with wrought madness across the water...
----------------------------


_This passage from my Story Hour depicts Dabuk praying at his mother’s sacred grove, speaking to her in a soliloquy._

*The Great Forest, Woodknot, Eiithinia's Rest:*
At the same time Bactra stood on his balcony, Dabuk could be found kneeling amongst the fallen leaves and soft earth of his mother's sacred grove. His legs and knees were numb but he hardly noticed. Only here was he ever near peace. Only here could he still be close to her.

A magically shaped oak in the form of Rillifane stood to his left with a equal of Corelleon on his right. They towered over the grove as sentinels guarding his mother's soul and the forest she loved. A small birch magically shaped in the form of his mother stood in the center of the grove. The Elders had dedicated it an the entire grove to his mother after her death. Renaming it Eiithinia's Rest.

"Mother," Dabuk spoke for the first time in five hours of praying. "Can you hear the trees today? They miss you."

The half-elven ranger was shaking his breath forming mist in the cold night air. But still he refused to move.

"Two more of the beasts are gone, mother. In time, they will all be gone. I swear it. I will make them pay for the pain and the death they cause.

This new war is a gift from Rillifane. I can feel it. Soon the hordes will know my name. Fear it. They won't have anywhere to hide from my rage, my vengeance.

Father thinks I am obsessed. If I am then I learned it from him. He hates orcs like I hate ogres. He never shows them mercy and I understand. And yet, he associates with one of the beasts! This Kellin One-Eye! An ogre, mother! One of his best friends in the world is an ogre!

He betrays us. I wish I knew why. Has the beast enchanted his mind somehow, mother? It doesn't make sense."

Dabuk raises his head staring at the Life Tree of his mother. He wished his life had been but a dream and that he would wake to find her standing over him. Smiling at him in that way that told him everything would be ok.

"Their deaths are not enough! I will not rest until they all gone and the evil one that spawned them with them! I will not yield. Someday, I will stand in heavens and destroy Vaprak himself! I swear it! Do you hear me Vaprak! I will come for you someday! I SWEAR IT!"

Dabuk was shaking uncontrollably. He fought to stay on his knees but could not. The grieving boy turned man lied down fetal, shaking. The trees wept for him.

"The trees miss you, mother." Dabuk whispered in the darkness. "I miss you."


----------



## CRGreathouse

“Yes, I wish it so.”

The pain was agonizing.  Tongues of flame surrounded him, greedily consuming his flesh.  His only thought was of pain – unbearable pain like he had never felt before.  He knew then that he would die.

He did not die.  The flames continued, and he slowly felt himself transformed into something he was not.  His extraneous thoughts, like his mortal flesh, began to burn away; he became increasingly indifferent to the world, caring only for fire – and self – and power.  As the last of his being drained away, though, he realized that it was the last part of him that was truly himself, and focused on saving this last bit of essence.

No longer was he Írost, son of Natar; Írost is dead.  Now he is Narya, spirit of flame.

*****

Narya was an elven wizard, specializing in fire spells.  After being taught the basics of magic by his mentor, he left to study the ways of magic on his own, forsaking his family and former connections to pursue true knowledge for perhaps a hundred years.

It was not to be so.  He was forced along the path of the adventurer, where he took a small part in events critical to the safety of his country, and indded the world.  Having finished, his newfound comrades asked him to continue on with them.

He refused.  Taking the rewards he found on the way, he gave them away to the king of a dwarven city he had helped, and left for the destination that had called to him for decades: the elemental plane of Fire.

In his hubris, he sought out the famed City of Brass.  No one knows what he said to the efreet, or what words were exchanged in the hissing, bubbling tongue of fire, but a bargain was struck, and when Narya emerged, he was... changed.

Flames burned at his every pore, he felt no pain from heat, and the very touch of water burned him.  In time, he learned to control the fire, except for his eyes whose pupils burned like twin flames.  He arrayed himself in dark, concealing garments, magically treated to withstand his heat.

He seldom interacted with people before the transformation, but afterward even less.  He took on the manner of his element: harsh, abrupt, and never satiated.  Those that had once been his closest friends he treated coolly.  Every aspect of his mortal existance was subsumed by his new life, save one: compassion for those like he once was.

Never would he admit this.  If asked, he would deny it.  He was to be hated, feared, and misunderstood, but he would have it no other way.

*****

Game information: Narya is a supreme physical specimen, with 5 stats 15 or above (and Wis 13).  He is brilliant, especially with the aid of his headband.  This is much of the reason behind his ego...

He has maxed ranks in Intimidate, and 5 ranks in Bluff for the synergy bonus, even though both are cross-class.  He has Skill Focus (Intimidate).  If my DM allowed other ways to improve skills, he'd have those, too.


----------



## jgbrowning

Here's my entry.  Old Eb's never let me down yet..... 
--------------------------------------------------
Five foot one, a gaunt 115lbs., Ebenezer Strathmore (Eb to his
Friends) is a most unlikely candidate for an adventurer, perhaps
even the antithesis.

Eb spent most of his life learning the many languages of the Iron 
Kingdoms and working as a bookbinder, gemcutter, and a man of learning. His information was always given for free, a trait that earned him many adventuring friends, who as is typical of the lot, are now mostly deceased.

Ebenezer had his first real life crisis at the age of 35 when his
sorcerous powers awoke.  Long ago, before he moved to Corvis from the swamps, his "crazy" uncle Tolber, a Sorceror of significant power, was forcibly removed by a large group of wizards to "safer quarters." The Wizards knew his madness was incurable, even with divine powers, and it was believed to be caused by his dragon's heritage.

Ebenezer was terrified of losing his vast knowledge to the insanity of "wild" magic, as he called it, and set out to master his abilities and limit their scope.  The next twenty years of his life were an almost continual disappointment as he failed to master even the simplest of wizardry's magics.  Even with his prodigious memory and his quick mind, organized magic slipped through his brain until a month ago.  After spending an entire week meditating and fasting,  Ebenezer swore to Morrow, that if he would grant him this one request, he would dedicate his life to the adventurous pursuit of good. Suddenly all of his fruitless training coalesced within his mind and almost a half score of spells made themselves apparent to him.

A man of his word, Ebenezer sold all his possessions, took the
money earned, purchased his current adventuring gear, and went
in pursuit of adventure.  Cutting ties with those whom he knew, he is starting out afresh.

Physical description:  Small, thin frame, sporting trimmed short 
gray hair with brown eyes. A little fastidious in cleanliness.  He's a little stooped in the shoulders, not atypical of a man of his age (55) and poor physical condition. He's very unsure of his adventurous choice, but knows one doesn't make false promises to the gods.  He fully expects to die fairly soon in a violent and unpleasant way.  At least he'll join his dead wife free of any guilt.

joe b.


----------



## Gossamerblade

*Character submission (What a cool thing to do!)*

Lady Arkanna deValarian: 16th level human sorceress

18 yrs old, 5'5" tall, 115 lbs., shadow-black hair, royal-blue eyes (tilted slightly, like a cat's), aristocratic-looking feature. Very beautiful and charismatic. 

Arkanna met her current companians when they released her from a crystal, where she had been trapped for about 900 years. She had been a lesser noble of one of the (then) great ruling houses of the land, until she stumbled upon a wizard who didn't want to be stumbled upon (thus the crystal prison). 

She found, when released, that her house no longer existed, having been invaded and absorbed (along with other houses) by the one remaining ruling house. In her travels, she is constantly looking for remnants of the House Valarian, artifacts, blood-ties (even remote ones), anything to help her connect to her family. She has recently been granted land, a keep, and a title, and she intends to re-establish House Valarian in this time. 

Arkanna usually wears in simple, elegant silk dresses, although she's been known to go topless to show off her "nipple rings of natural armor". 

Her preferred weapon, after spells, is her longbow. Usually. But she's easily frustrated, and her lowest stat is wisdom. 

(Sneaking up on an enemy lookout post, she spots a scout in a treetop. 

A: I shoot him with my bow. <rolls> 
DM: Miss. He's looking in your direction now. 
A: Oh, crap! <casts> Lightning bolt! <rolls>
DM: He's toast. The tree's toast. And the entire camp knows you're here now. Initiative time.
Other PCs: <groan> Thanks Arkanna. So much for sneaking up on them. )

After a near-miss on a recent adventure, Arkanna's hair turned white. Soon after, while raiding a magical library, the party came across a "Tome of Hair-Color". She eagerly claimed it, and, sure enough, it made her hair black again (although she could have chosen a different color). But it had an interesting side effect: now her hair is of the shadow realm. And it's always moving, as if blown by a playful breeze.


----------



## JohnClark

This is a great thing Kai, thank you and Todd!

My character is named Mardak ShortCloak, male gnome wiz6/Elemental Savant (air) 10

*Physical Description*: Mardak stands 3 feet tall and weighs 40 pounds. He has a slightly bluish hue on both his skin and hair (both are mostly brown however) and eyes that are pure white (no pupils or iris'). He is stronger than the average gnome and has a somewhat toned figure, but this is usually covered by his white robe of the archmagi. He carries a rod of thunder and lightning with him at all times and is also never without Breezie, his small air elemental familiar. He has a distinguishing mark in the form of a tatoo of a small red fish on his neck. 

History: Mardak was born 135 years ago on Lantan. His mother was a cleric of Gond, while his father was a wizard who specialized in elemental summoning. Mardak became absolutely enamored with elemental wizardry and with air and electricity in particular after encounter a djinn that his father had called. After his 40th birthday he moved to Silverymoon to begin his studies of the arcane. On becoming a full fledged wizard he joined a group of his classmates who had heard that great treasure was available in an abandon dwarven mine near the spine of the world. While there he and his classmates were able to scare away a group of orcs using nothing but their illusion spells to create the appreance of an approaching dwarven company. On returning from that adventure he got the tatoo of a red herring to make sure that he always remembers that things may not be what they seem. The adventuring life is behind him now though, and he teaches at the college in Silverymoon where he also has a home and wife, Janara Shortcloak with a son on the way.

Thanks again for this, good luck to everyone.


----------



## Arravis

I’ve been playing D&D for over 20 years now and I can honestly say, out of all the characters that I’ve had in that time, Sharantyr Al’shably has been the one closest to my heart. He has a level of emotional subtlety and complexity that at times seems to have a life of it’s own. I know now what sculptor's mean, when they say they are "freeing" the form from the stone, it's the same feeling I get every Saturday during our games. I’ve been playing Sharantyr in a campaign, that I also co-DM at, since 3rd edition came out and even though it has now become an epic-campaign, it shows no signs of slowing. I would be deeply honored and endlessly thankful for your generosity if you were to do an interpretation and representation of him. Thanks you Kailord for organizing this and thank you very much Mr. Lockwood for your generosity and kindness.

--Edit 4/7-- Damn Kailord... I just re-read the first post. Seems that in my 1:00 am haze I didn't fully comprehend what you said... you're paying it out of your own pocket? I'm completely amazed and flabberghasted... wow! That is a hell of a 'thank you' to this enworld community! Thank you Kailord, that is beyond impressive. --Edit 4/7---


*Sharantyr Al’shably*

*Stats:* Human Male / 24th lvl Wizard / Lawful Neutral

*Description:* Sharantyr is a Mulhorandi (Mulan stock, basically Egyptian) of 26 years and has the handsome and elegant features of his people, except for his bone-white skin, long black hair and black eyes. His body language is one of tension and control, like a tightly wound metal cord. Sharantyr’s wears black robes, cut to allow for movement in combat, and a cloak made out of the skin of a young blue-dragon. Instead of the traditional wizard’s staff, he carries a long bladed Naganita (a pole-arm that has a katana [samurai sword] blade on the end of it), a gift from friends in a far-off lands.

*Personality:*  Sharantyr leads a life of opposing loyalties and conflicts. His attempt to balance these demands has led to a life of strict, nearly in-human, self-discipline and perfectionism. The veneer sometimes slips, showing the constant struggle between his emotions and his need to control them.

*Background:*  Within Mulhorand, near the border of Thay there is a small town that is at times the victim to the conflict between these two giants. Within the town of Sultim lives the Al’shably family, who were once famed for their service as bodyguards to the god-kings of Mulhorand. Through the failure of the family patriarch, one of the royals was assassinated and the family shamed. As they tried to rebuild their lives in this town, the conflict between Thay and Mulhorand brought them disaster. The entirety of the family was killed, only one of the sons, Nesh, surviving. Nesh wished vengeance above all and donated his goods and land to the temple, earning an audience with the incarnation of Horus-Re. Before Horus-Re, Nesh vowed his life and the lives of his unborn children for only one goal, vengeance on those that destroyed all that he had loved. Horus-Re granted him his wish, allowing those of Nesh’s blood the ability to track down those responsible.

All of Nesh’s children, including Nesh himself, have died on their endless pursuit of vengeance. All save one, Sharantyr. His body has been forever changed by Thayan tortures and the Red Wizard’s magic, leaving his skin milk-white. But worse had been the changes within his soul. This hate-fueled obsession became his only priority, feeling the entire weight of his family’s future rested on his shoulders. As he traveled, leaving in his wake countless dead Thayans, his spirit became darker and darker. He was willing to do anything to fulfill his ambitions, until he finally realized he had become like those he was hunting. Now, he stands at the brink of a new future he could forge for himself. Should he continue as he was or seek a new destiny unbound by the shackles of the past?

-Arravis


----------



## Arravis

I'm including Doc Midnight's version of Sharantyr, excellently done I might add , just to show one version. Though, feel free to do whatever interpretation you wish and make whatever changes you feel are appropriate if this happens to be one of the ones chosen.

I did make a few edits in photoshop to it, to keep up with character changes as the game has progressed. The woman with him is his wife Runa (played in our group by my fiancée )

P.S.: I hope including the drawing Doc made wasn't a mistake... I'm just a massive fan of Todd's work and would love to see his take on this character.


----------



## I'm A Banana

For this, you rock...good luck reading all these posts, man. 

_*KAZ THE DRAGONLORD*_
(Kobold Sorcerer/Egoist, N)

Imagine a kobold in simple maroon robes, with splotchy, red-brown scales and a malicious, intelligent gleam in his eyes as he peers at you from the other side of his spear. He's a kobold like a million others that have succumbed to the wrath of an adventurer's sword or an orc's axe. Or, rather, he is until he's standing on top of you with a spear to your chest.

You see, there are few things more degrading to an adventurer than to have their butts handed to them by a scrawny little dark-dweller. Kaz is going about changing all that. Practiced in the art of sorcery, skilled in the psionic discipline of egoism, Kaz is a born leader, whose low place in the world has only been a bias to push aside, a chain to break, and a Big One to Make Small. He may be a kobold, but he is a kobold with delusions of grandeur, and a sense of importance that far outstrips his physical form...for now. But he talks the talk, and walks the walk. His confidence is obscene, as his talent for running away and surviving seem to exceed his own battle prowess. However, he will argue, that surviving one more day makes him  outlive a thousand stupid would-be world dominators. Kaz is a scaled phoenix, ascending from the ashes of kobold-dom to the high place of the dragon ancestors. And he WILL make it, someday. Someday, all the creatures who hate, pity, and slay his kind will know what it is like to be underfoot. Not with an iron fist of evil, but with the same gentle hand the dragons rule with. Fundamentally, it is a struggle for freedom and respect. Kaz will either achieve it, or die trying.

He is the Savior of Princesses, the Champion of the Scaled Ones, and the Scion of the Breath. He is Kaz (who calls himself the Mighty). He is either the saving grace of kobold kind...or perhaps their most pathetically, shamefully deluded fool. Only time will tell.


----------



## I'm A Banana

*And one more*

Just in case Kaz doesn't make the cut:

* BURZEN THE ADAMANTINE DWARF* 
(Dwarf Monk, LG)

Burzen is an intimidating figure. Silent, stoic, he seems to be carved of stone and given life. He dresses in flowing robes and ribbons of blue, white, and silver, his pillars of arms dropping to his waist, with fists nearly as big as his head. He is undoubtedly strong, and is deceptively agile and fast, moving quickly and easily, seen only as a silvery-white blur before the fist ends your sight forever.

He is a monk by choice and practice, disdaining normal dwarf-craft to craft and forge himself. To Burzen, life is a forge, and he is the metal that it shall shape, into the pure form of a weapon against the corruption that prevades it. To Burzen, there is little worth in a corrupt or wicked leadership, and the true form can only be realized through the honing of body and mind. He feels his people too often fall too easily to greed and corruption, and he is a determined force against it, requiring merely food and drink, and the ability to destroy wickedness where he finds it.

He is Burzen. Strong, silent, swift, the serious dwarf with a dream of unburdened freedom, an ore from which a weapon for goodness can be formed.


----------



## Eosin the Red

Kai you are the bomb. This is one of the coolest ideas.
____________________________________________
*Eosin the Red* ruled the kingdom of Vintria during the bloodiest era the kingdom had ever faced. He was not noble, nor just, or even kind; like most men called heroes, he only did what fate required of him.

Eosin began as a scout with Vintria’s army. Eventually, his resourcefulness earned him a promotion to captain of a ranger unit. During some seasonal skirmishes with the northern barbarian tribes he chanced upon a meeting that involved several Imperial Senators and one of the most powerful barbarian chiefs. Discovering treason, he returned to the capitol, Viandian and sought to warn his superiors. Like many plans of treason, this one also ran deep. He was taken by the Lord Marshall and was to be hung, escaping the noose only through the efforts of his men. Unsure of who to trust, he turned to the legions themselves, entering Viandian through the king’s gate two days later. 

Eosin and his legions were unable to save the king but they did quell the rebellion in the capitol. Then he turned his attention on the barbarian tribes pillaging in the countryside. He spent nearly four months campaigning before bringing them to task. He retained command of the legions only by virtue of imminent crisis but by the time he returned to the capitol he also had the loyalty of Archbishop Taedrin, the highest rank clergyman in all of Vintria. Upon his return, the legions urged him to take the Iron Crown, as did several prominent senators who had been loyal to the previous king.

Eosin ruled well for the first few years of his reign, taking a wife and producing six children. It was during this time that Eosin began to consult with the kingdoms clergy and the mage known as Solomon. He had one other notable advisor during the early years, an exiled prince from the elvish land of Elenastra. These three advised him of the growing darkness to the east in a land called Khel. During the next decade of his reign, Eosin sought to prepare his land to face this blackness but senseless wars and weak rulers had gutted the Vintrian Empire. Eosin had to unify Vintria first. 

First, he removed the senate that had placed him on the throne, and then began a campaign to cull out those who undermined his efforts. He reclaimed lost provinces and buffer states that had been granted independence centuries earlier. Eosin and his legions remained in the field for thirteen long years; those years earned him the appellation “Eosin the Red.”

In the winter of his twenty first year as king, Eosin the Red ran out of time. Word came to him from one of the mystical Celestine knights, the darkness was breaking free. Knowing that his kingdom and his family would perish in the conflict, Eosin summoned his knights from the First and Tenth Legions. 5,000 of Vintira’s elite fighting force marched into Khel and sought to buy their land and their people a few more years.

*Description:* Eosin is a warrior-king. He has a quiet air of command, rather than a demanding one. He is well developed but approaching his middle years. Eosin is usually found dressed in functional mail and plate, the breastplate decorated with the eagle of Vintria. He is never without his sword, Al’Arcrist [Flame in the night] in a shoulder scabbard. He has short graying brown hair and his eyes are startling clear blue. If any described him as handsome, it would be in a rugged way. During the later years of his reign, the weight of his struggle was reflected both as an intense focus and his surrender to a doom he could not avoid.

d20 
Eosin the Red, human male, Woodsman 4/Fighter 4/ Noble 3
Str 14 (+2), Dex 13 (+1), Con 12 (+1), Int 16 (+3), Wis 15 (+2), Cha 17 (+3).


----------



## Gez

*Makura Inaoko (Oriental Adventure character)*

Only child of Daymio Makura Takeu, Inaoko was raised to govern. Her mother died giving childbirth, and her father didn't marry again, leaving her his only inheritor.

Since birth, the Sign of the Dragons was strong in her, so she would be as the Dragons, authoritarian, uncompromising, powerful in sorcery... and vain. Her mythical ancestry was shown by the Dragonmark or her family: eyes with pearly whites, jet black irises, and bright gilded pupils, slanted like the two branchs of a V. These unsettling eyes are her sigil, the proof of her nobility, and of the power flowing through her veins.

The precious child was both protected and toughened up. After eight years of joyfully being a little pest with near-total diplomatic immunity, came all the hardship of becoming a woman of power in a land where it's more than difficult; a competent aristocrat, able to fight, commend, organize, plot, lie, and plan; and a powerful sorceress, imposing her will to the forces of the elements as well as on the minds of peoples. Even worse was the "training" to survive possible attempts at poisoning her, a training that often left her crippled in her bed for lengthy months.

She felt she was forged into a deadly weapon -- and smithing includes heating metal until it's red-hot, and then hammering it violently into shape. It would have been completely traumatic were not for the friendship of a vassal's son. That vassal had three children, two sons and one daughter, all bearing the Dragonmark of their own family. Her friend saved her from madness or suicide by bearing the weight of her burden of anguish and sorrow with her. As a result, she fell deeply in love with him, which upsetted her father's plans when she proved later exactly _how_ uncompromising she could be, and managed to wed her friend. 

Her father's plans, meanwhile, proved extremely dangerous. Since the death of the Emperor and his whole family during the war against the shadewarriors, the rulership was in the hands of the Shogun -- who had not the slightiest hint of Dragonblood in his family. The heritage of the Dragons was likely fading in most noble families, result of the strikes of the shadewarriors and the lack of a rightful Emperor in the country. Makura Takeu, whose family always had one of the most potent Dragonblood in the Empire, plotted to seize the throne for himself and thus repair the pact made with the True Dragons centuries ago -- that the Empire should always been in the hand of their most faithful servants, those that have been blessed with a Mark of the Dragons. Someone, in his small cabal of twice-nobles (nobility of blood and nobility of title) reported his treasonnous projects to the Shogun, who sent his army to seize Kyuden Ryu and wipe the Makura family out of history.

Inaoko was told to flee with her husband and her family-in-law, in order to raise an army in the land of these strange, barbaric gaijin, and come back to claim the throne at last. A hard task, without money, allies, contacts, and even without knowledge of the new world they were sent to. But a task she was prepared to. She will succeed, she will bend the world to her will, she knows it. 

Female human Aristocrat 2/Sorcerer 2, lawful neutral, 19-year-old, 1m68 (5'5"), 54 kg (121 lb.). Str 12, Dex 18, Con 14, Int 14, Wis 12, Cha 18. She's tall, even towering in her homeland, healthy, graceful, and with an aura of power and hypnotic eyes.

Here's an attempt of getting a decent pic for her through heavily photoshoppage of a NWN portrait.


----------



## Shadowdancer

Thanks, Kai Lord, for doing this.

Here is my character, humbly submitted for consideration:

*Arianna Flamelocks
Class:* Bard
*Gender and race:* Female Half-Elf
*Height and weight:* 5'9", 135 lbs.
*Eyes and hair:* Green, red
*Age:* 38

Arianna Flamelocks is an entertainer of growing repute. She is outgoing, flirtatious, and very seductive. She is sensual, and a bit of a hedonist, with "a guy in every village." At times she can be very bawdy; at others, very serious.

She travels from place to place in search of her father, whom she has never met. He is an elven bard named Mateous Ravensclaw. He met Arianna’s mother several decades ago while performing in a far-off town. After a brief dalliance, Mateous left and never returned. Arianna’s mother used to tell her daughter stories about Mateous, his deft lute playing, and his wonderful singing voice when she was growing up. Arianna aspired to become a bard, just like her father. When her mother died from influenza six years ago, Arianna decided to set out to find her father, making a living as a bard along the way. In addition to singing, acting, and playing instruments, Arianna is a gifted dancer, juggler, acrobat, and knife–thrower.

*Here is a description of Arianna from a story I wrote:*

The Stone Pony was crowded for a midweek night, thought Arianna Flamelocks as she stepped upon the small wooden stage in one corner of the smoky, dimly–lit tavern. Most of the customers — stevedores and teamsters, by the look of them — were crowded around the bar, but many of the tables were occupied as well. A raucous cacophony of boisterous voices assaulted Arianna’s ears while a malodorous mixture of burning codfish oil, spilled ale, sweat, and urine assailed her nostrils. “How am I ever to compete with all this noise?” she thought. “Or keep my supper down — what is that accursed smell? It’s enough to ruin a maggot’s appetite.”

As she seated herself upon a tall wooden stool, Arianna surveyed the crowd before her. Gustin Longpike, the tavern’s massive owner, was busy behind the oaken plank bar. Arianna knew that Gertrude, Gustin’s plump wife, was in the kitchen sweating over a cauldron of stew and baking trencher loaves in the brick oven. The couple’s two daughters, Mae and Ginny, were threading their way through the unwashed masses, bustling from table to bar and kitchen, and back again, dodging the groping hands of drunken dockworkers. Hardly anyone in the place noticed the young bard on the stage preparing to perform. There was one man — an attractive elf with long black hair and violet eyes sitting by himself at a small table along one wall — who made eye contact when she looked his way, but his gaze quickly returned to the tavern door as he sipped from a pewter mug.

“He’s a handsome one,” Arianna thought, a wry smile dancing across her lips, a smile reflected by her twinkling emerald eyes. “How’d he ever wander into this jakes pit? Not that I’d mind. I would be very happy waking up tomorrow morning to see that face in bed beside me. He seems to be waiting for someone. I hope it’s not his sweetheart. Of course, no respectable man would bring his beloved to a place like this. But then, since he _is_ in this place, who’s to say he’s respectable?”

Possessing long, muscular legs and a lithe, dancer’s body, Arianna usually attracted her share of men’s attention. Her red hair was cut short, spikey on top. Tonight her green eyes and milky skin were set off by her all–black outfit: a strapless leather bustier, tight–fitting leggings, and soft leather boots cut to come just above the knee. Hanging from each slightly–pointed ear — an inheritance from her elven sire — was a silver chain ending in a small emerald. Dangling from the thin, black leather choker around her neck was a teardrop–cut emerald. Fingerless black silk opera gloves stretched the length of her arms. While her swordbelt and rapier hung in a kitchen alcove along with her hooded cloak, a dagger with a hilt of malachite scales was tucked away in the top of her right boot, in case the audience got too rowdy.

Arianna pulled her masterwork lute, an instrument she had lovingly crafted with her own hands, into her lap and began to tune it, her long, dexterous fingers caressing the catgut strings, ivory frets, and smooth mahogany pegs. After she finished, she ran her right hand through her hair and considered her opening number. Then another smile crept across her face as she decided how she would catch the crowd’s attention. She started to pluck and strum the lute’s strings. Four glowing spheres of light swept out through the tavern, barely missing the heads of several patrons. After reaching the back of the room, the spheres reversed course and arced back to the stage, drawing the attention of almost everyone in the room to Arianna. She began to sing in a strong, confident contralto that pierced the tavern’s quickly diminishing din.

“I’m a traveling troubadour,
Selling my songs from door to door,
As I journey down the long, dusty roads.

“I sing in the bars,
And sleep beneath the stars,
And please the ostlers when their wives are asleep.”

This last line drew a menagerie of catcalls and wolf whistles from the crowd. Arianna just smiled wickedly, gave them a wink and continued with the song.

“In exchange for food,
I give them my youth,
And a song to remember me by.

“I’ll sing you a song of other times and places,
And sights you may never see.
I’ll sing you a song of other times and places,
And things you may never,
That you may never hear of again.

“For the food I can’t pay,
And I really can’t stay
Because your wife will be waking up soon.

“But before I go,
I really must show
How much I appreciate your kindness.

“So I’ll make love to you,
And when we’re through,
You can lay back and I’ll sing you a song.

“I’ll sing you a song of other times and places,
And sights you may never see.
I’ll sing you a song of other times and places,
And things you may never,
That you may never hear of again.”

Arianna began the instrumental bridge, deftly plucking the lute’s strings with the fingers of her right hand as those on the left slid up and down the neck of the instrument. She chanced a quick look at the audience; everyone seemed to be watching her intently, many nodding along to the melody. Pleased, she resumed singing.

“But before I can go,
I really must show
How much I appreciate all you’ve done.

“And for the food I will pay
If you’ll only come lay,
If you’ll come lay down with me.

“And I’ll make love to you,
And when we’re through
I’ll sing you a traveling song.

“I’ll sing you a song of other times and places,
And sights you may never see.
I’ll sing you a song of other times and places,
And things you may never,
That you may never hear of again.”

As Arianna strummed the song’s last chords, the taproom erupted in applause and cheering. She smiled again and acknowledged the crowd with a small nod of her head. As the sound began to diminish, a booming voice came from behind the bar.

“Arianna, after my Gertie goes to bed I need to talk to you about settling your tab,” Gustin said. The people standing nearest to him began to laugh.

Arianna waited for the laughter to subside, then cocked her head to one side, smiled, and said, “Don’t worry, Gustin, we’ll settle up proper later tonight. I’m dying to know why they call you Longpike.”

The crowd exploded in hoots and hollers again as Gustin’s face turned bright red. Arianna gave the crowd another dazzling smile, winked again, then started to finger the opening chords of the haunting “Circle of Stones.”


----------



## A'koss

Oh, I gotta get in on this...  

*Mejin A'koss*

CN(G) Rogue of indeterminate level.	
Age - apparant 45, actual 83
Height: 5' 11"
Weight: 170 lbs.

Description: Mejin is of Baklunish descent possessing their trademark golden skin, a perpetually stubbly 3 day old beard, blue-grey eyes and long, wavy, blue-black hair with increasing amounts of grey as the years go by... It is braided in a few areas and loosely tied in the back. As a celebrity in Greyhawk he is always attired the latest fashions mixing Baklunish elements along with current Greyhawk styles. Currently he favors his long, midnight blue coat with silver embroidery and sleeves that end at the elbow, a casual white shirt, dark, green-grey breeches and near-black boots with an inordinate amount of silver buckles to match his belt. Mejin carries with him two beautifully pattern-welded adamantine/black mithril shortswords which emit a deep violet mist-like radiance.

Mejin's most distinguishing trait however is the incredibly stylized plate armor that he wears on his left arm. It appears to be made of black iron with burnished, silver edges and ending in a talon-like guantlet. Mejin will happily tell you the tale of how he simply woke up one morning and it was there, on his arm, and curiously unremovable. Of course if you want more detail, he'll recommend you go and buy his 3 volume biography, available at all fine bookstores.

Mejin's career as the quintessential adventurer has spanned almost five decades. Bumbling from one adventure to the next, a member of no fewer than 17 different adventuring bands, his life would seem by many to be guided by the insane hand of Zagyg himself... This amuses the demigod greatly as it happens to be true.

However, that is not his only patron from on high... The strange relationship shared by the Demon Queen Lolth and Mejin A'koss can only be described as... well, it's best not to even try. The story goes something like this... many years ago Mejin was a member a skilled adventuring company called Silver... Something-or-anothers. Anyway, repelling a seemingly simple giant raid led to the band to uncover nefarious plots that involved the mysterious drow and their Spider Queen. The band was very successful following the trail deep into UnderOerth... right up until the Vault of the Drow. In a pitched battle with powerful clerics in Lolth's Temple, Mejin found himself the only survivor (again). With the drow city now on high alert, Mejin weighed his options... Yes, killing Lolth seemed the best idea. 

"Word to the wise...", Mejin would say. "Even if you think you can get away with it, don't try and backstab a goddess. Really, just don't." It seems that Mejin tumbled onto the idea of leaping down from a balcony high in the grand temple, blades in hand, onto the oblivious back of Lolth's spider form. After bouncing off her impregnable carapace he found himself flat on his _a.._ butt staring face to face with an, albeit puzzled, Demon Queen of Spiders. 

"You must be the stupidest mortal in existence."

"Well... it was either this or life as perveyor of women's shoes. I think we can both agree I made the right decision."

"..."

"Would it help any if I said I really, really hurt my bottom?"

Apparently, Lolth has a sense of humor after all. Not much more is known of what transpired between the two but several weeks later Mejin was seen riding into Greyhawk City... on the back a giant spider he named "Ick".


'nuff said.


A'koss.


----------



## theyak

Ok, this is an awesome competition, so here's a character that I'd love to be drawn.

*Lord Ardel Varn, Paladin of Bahamut*
Stats: Human/Silver Half-Dragon Male, Lawful Good 1 Sorcerer /9 Paladin/13 Dragon Disciple

Description: About 7'5" tall with long silver hair and glowing white eyes, and silver scaled draconic wings. Wielding an intellilligent Adamantine Mercurial Greatsword named Demonella (a long story, but in a nutshell the sword was possessed by a succubus and then atoned from it's evil ways). Currently wearing a Mithril Breastplate with a holy symbol on the front of it and wielding no other weapons. Currently has 2 Ioun Stones floating around his head (Deep Purple & Lime Green) I've always imagined the character to have a somewhat elven appearance with longish ears and an angular bone structure in the face. Also wears a Red Cloak with the symbols of Cormyr on the back in Gold.

Personality: Ardel is a force of personality in combat (sort of like william wallace in braveheart) and can turn a battle on it's head through sheer courage. Often flies into battle without worry of injury and would sacrifice his life for his companions' safety.

Background: Born and raised in a tavern resting halfway up the peaks of Cormyr, Ardel's magical talent became obvious at a young age. Sent to the War Wizards Academy, Ardel's abilities were soon shown to be lacking in power as he could not master the scholarly ways of magic. Despondent at his failure and ashamed at his perceived failure to his family, Ardel returned to the mountains of cormyr and lived in his father's tavern for the next few years. Whilst shopping wood in a nearby copse of trees, he cam across a blood trail and followed it. The trail led to the cavern of an ancient silver dragon. Whilst lacking in book smarts, Ardel was no coward so he entered the dragon's lair and curious, woke the Dragon. The dragon was angered at first but soon realized the courage the youth had shown and the two soon became friends, and they have been ever since. After years of this friendship the dragon grew weak and as his parting gift to his 'friend' he gave him a tome of lore. From this Ardel learned the ways of the Dragons and soon came to worship Bahamut. A change also started to occur to Ardel, his form was becoming more draconic over time. During an extremely harsh winter Ardel's father succumbed to pnuemonia and died, leaving Ardel to run the tavern. Travelling into the town's nearby, Ardel soon befriended some of the locals and selling the tavern, agreed to travel the lands with them. since then his powers have grown, and his draconic appearance has continued to come to the fore. In his time travelling Ardel has seen many places and fought many evils, including run-ins with the Red Wizards and the Cult of the Dragon (now a sworn enemy). Never has he shirked from danger and has sworn to defeat all enemies of Bahamut, and all that his patron stands for.

Here's an image that was recently drawn by Kip the Bold in this thread:
link


----------



## muhcashin

*Tommy Oakenfire*

*Tommy Oakenfire* male aasimar bard6

Nelia Oakenfire was archmage of no reknown. She was virtually unknown considering her power. She worked hard to keep a low profile, rarely casting any spells outside her tower in the High Forest. How did she become so powerful? Usually, most wizards earn their power and fortune while adventuring. However, Nelia never joined an adventuring party. Actually, she never joined a Faerûnian party, but was part of one for many years.

Nelia is a planewalker, and as such, she travels on different worlds seeking adventure. She spends most of her time in the Outer planes. Only when she's tired, does Nelia return to her tower.

Surprise, Nelia is not my character. I will not a play an archmage unfortunately. My character is Nelia's son, an aasimar by the name of Tommy Oakenfire. During her travels, Nelia fell in love with a celestial being, with whom she had a child. Tommy was however born on Faerûn, her mother deeming the Planes a tad bit dangerous for an infant. Nelia decided to stay on Toril most of the time, traveling back to see her lover when Martha Eavenham agreed to babysit for her. Martha was Nelia's childhood friend. Unlike Nelia, Martha chose a regular lifestyle and ran an orphanage in Silverymoon, where she took care of many half-orcish infants. Products of brutal rapes by the orcish hordes of the north.

One time, when Tommy was about a three months old, Nelia left on an adventure. She never came back. Martha stayed at the tower for several weeks and eventually returned to Silverymoon thinking that the worst had befallen her best friend. She took it upon herself to raise the aasimar babe. Martha never told him about his mother, fearing that he might one day follow in her dangerous footsteps. 

Tommy Oakenfire grew to become of bard studying at the finest school of bardcraft of Faerûn, Foclucan. He fought in a few orc invasions and earned quite a reputation in the city known as the Gem of the North. 

A little less than a year ago, Martha was murdered in her sleep. No one knew why anyone would kill someone like her. Tommy as he searched through is adoptive mother's things found a map to Nelia's tower. He and a bad of friends set out to find that tower only to be welcomed by the most vicious traps imaginable. For some odd reason, Tommy managed to avoid all the traps, whereas his friends were all slain. The Silvaeren bard reached his mother's library where he found literally hundreds of books on planar travel and magic. Tommy was spellbound by the notion of a multiverse, and suddenly his obssessive interest in planetravel was sparked to life. He gathered a book called "Portal's to a Another World" and a few magical gadgets he found appealing, before returning to Silverymoon. He spent a month nosing through all the tomes found in the city's library. He realised that planewalking was not very well documented, and set out to find a way to open a portal to another world.

He travels have brought him to Voonlar, where he searches for the trio known as Poison Memories. He wants the advice of the famed dwarven archwizard Thorik Ironhelm.

That's Tommy Oakenfire's background. Now onto his appearance. Being an aasimar, many of his features belong to celestials. His long shoulder length hair is of a golden silver and his eyes glow with an intense light. Other than that, Tommy is of human stature. He always has a smile on his face, even during the grimest of times. He wears very simple clothes, a wool shirt, green breetches and burgandy leather vest. Strapped to his shoulder is a mandolin, and sheathed at his side is a magical scimitar he took from his mother's tower. (I haven't really decided what its magical properties are). A unicorn head shaped token dangles from his neck. It is a Ardath ward token of Silverymoon he received for his services against three orc invasions.

Tommy's honesty and loyalty knows no bounds. He geniunely believes that all beings, even fiends, can become good, and usually strives to make people live better lives. 

To satisfy his obsession with plane travel, Tommy often summon a creature via _Summon Monster_ spell and talks to them with a _Tongues_ spell. He has learned to speak Ignan, Celestial, Infernal and Auran.


----------



## Lalato

*Okib Nirod*

Wow... what a great idea...  

Okib Nirod
Class and Alignment: Path Guardian (Paladin) 3, CG
Gender and race: Male Half-Orc
Height and weight: 6'2", 210#
Eyes, hair and skin: Black, Red, Gray
Age: 17

Okib is a Paladin of Deneb, The Laughing Wanderer... the goddess of travel and mischief.  Paladins of Deneb are known as Path Guardians for they are protectors of all good people that travel the lonely road.  Path Guardians  have slightly different abilities than normal Paladins.  They have an increase of +10 to movement and they gain the ability to cast spells in light armor without suffering any penalties.  Okib uses a quarterstaff, a rapier, and a composite longbow.

History: (sorry if this is long)
Okib Nirod was born to an enslaved human woman who died soon after giving birth to him. Being the son of a slave... Okib, himself, became a slave to his master Argush Nirod. Okib took after his mother's striking features despite his Orcish heritage. 

His master, Argush, was a devout follower of the god of pain. Argush worshipped his god with a ferocity that made many of the orcs around him nervous. Okib was often able to defuse his master, but not always. He still has scars across his back from the master's whip. 

Despite the whip, Okib led a fairly uneventful life until his master bought another human slavewoman. Argush tortured this woman day and night... deriving much pleasure from it. Okib, still a boy, couldn't bare to watch the cruelty that he knew must have befallen his mother at the hands of Argush. 

After one particularly violent night, Okib sneaked into the "torture" room to find the woman, Karlis, barely alive. Okib resolved to do something. He knew Argush was drunk with both pleasure and wine and would be in a deep sleep for hours... So Okib set about to cutting the woman from her restraints. It took all his 11 year old bodies strength to carry Karlis out of the house. 

He was approached by guardsmen a couple of times on his walk... he would immediately look down to hide his handsome face and explain, "My master has asked me to take this trash to the northern dump. He doesn't want it rotting in his house." To which most would snicker and let him pass. 

Once outside the city walls, Okib took a moment to check if Karlis was still breathing. She was, but barely. He walked for two days without sleeping, dragging Karlis along despite the fatigue. Okib gave her anything edible that he scrounged, which wasn't much. Finally, he collapsed at a little roadside shrine to a goddess of which he had never heard. 

He dreamt that night of happiness and laughter. In his dream he and Karlis were seated at a table with another woman. The woman had an infectious laugh that made him laugh. The laughing woman's form was everchanging. Sometimes she was fat, sometimes thin, sometimes old, sometimes young. Karlis sat beside him laughing hysterically at the changing woman. 

When he awoke his stomach felt full, and Karlis felt good enough that he no longer had to carry her. Karlis thanked the goddess Deneb for her kindness... and they were off. 

Karlis informed Okib, that the laughing woman was the goddess Deneb, and she had saw fit to help them in their sleep. Okib thought it strange that a goddess would actually do something nice for him. He had never heard of such a thing in Sossal... and this affected him deeply. 

After two weeks of travel... avoiding orcs along the way, they finally made it to a small human village. A local took them in for a few days. Karlis was from Onoroth, and she longed to go back home, but Okib wasn't sure that his destiny lay with Karlis. He wanted to know more about Deneb. He knew his life and Deneb would somehow intertwine. 

Okib agreed to travel with Karlis to Onoroth, but only because he wanted to visit the temple of Deneb there. One of the villagers had told Okib that the main temple of Deneb was far to the north, west of Minoth. 

Once in Onoroth... Okib marveled at the city's temples. He had never seen such beauty. Okib stayed with Karlis and her family for a few days, but despite Karlis wishes that he stay with her, Okib went to the small temple of Deneb to seek his destiny. There the acolytes of Deneb instructed him that a Path Guardian was leaving for the main temple in a fortnight. In those two weeks before his journey, Okib learned a lot about Deneb. The more he learned the more he knew his destiny was set. 

The way was long and hard, but the journey with the Path Guardian, Fae Leus, was always a joy. It took them nearly a year to travel the distance, mostly because Fae Leus was prone to taking detours... always exploring roads she had never traveled. Though, Okib was very anxious about it at first... he eventually warmed to life on the road with Fae. She was always helping travelers along the way. There were a few times, however, Okib thought they were never going to to see the temple of Deneb. 

At the temple, the acolytes were very intrigued by Okib's tale of the dream at the roadside shrine. Okib was given a choice at the temple... Acolyte or Path Guardian. He asked how often acolytes traveled the open road vs. Path Guardians.  Path Guardians, of course, won hands down. Okib has been a devoted follower of Deneb ever since. 

Okib gained most of his experience as a Path Guardian helping refugees from Minoth, where minions of the Blood Lord Shah have taken control, make their way south and west to other cities.  The Blood Lord Shah would not be feasting on these poor travelers. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If you want to see this character's stats and equipment... here is a link to the character sheet...

http://3ep.rpgprofiler.net/3ep/public.php?c=OkibNirod

--sam


----------



## Robbert Raets

Well, you've got my attention. I'll post Kapitein Lucas Nieuwenhuyzen later this week. I can only reveal at this time that it involves a bad-mouthed ship and a Monkey Familiar.


----------



## catdragon

*Taer*

Taer is a young human exploring the world of Greyhawk and enjoying the wonders he finds whereever he goes.  Currently his sister Angelora has talked him in to helping the dwavers of the Duchy of Ulek against the humanoids of the Pomarj.

Taer is shaved bald.  He takes the time and care to make sure his head is clean of all hair each day as part of his mediatations.  His eyes are a crystal blue and he has a prominent aquiline nose.  A smile is the usual expression on his face.  However, in battle, Taer becomes deadly serious.  he knows that each battle may be his last, or worse, one of his friends' last, and he is determined to do anything and everything to keep his comrades from harm.

His skin is a dark tan, colored that way partly by his racial heritage but also by the amount of time Taer spends outside doing physical activity.  He usually dresses in light colored (usually pinks and whites) robes.  Clenched around his waist is a dark red belt, a symbol of his mastery in the martial arts taught by the monks of the Crane.  One of Taer's arm is tattooed with a flying crane, its head towards his fist.  His other arm has a tattoo of a snake coiled around it, its head on the back of Taer’s hand.  When adventuring, or in a place where he doesn't want to stand out, Taer wears a white tunic, open in the front and tucked into a wide leather belt.  Calf-high leather boots with a turned over cuff complete his outfit.

Bobby Nichols
=============================================
I don't make jokes. I just watch the government and report 
     the facts. 
                              Will Rogers, Saturday Review, Aug. 25, 1962
==============================================


----------



## Piratecat

Kai Lord, this is a wonderful thing. 

I'm going to make this thread sticky for this week, to give people time to see it; then I'll unstick it, and trust that people's entries keep it buoyed. In the mean time, I'm giving you an honorary Community Supporter account as a way of saying "thanks" for giving back to the community. Let me know what you'd like for a custom title!


----------



## Magic Rub

*Gratis*
Archmage - Male Sun Elf
Alignment: Neutral Evil

Physical appearance;
   Gratis is a handsome elf, stern & intelligent looking. Piercing golden eyes & long blond hair, creatively interlaced with intricate braids, give Gratis what some have called in the past "the look of a noble". His otherwise handsome visage is presently marred by but one flaw (however Gratis considers it very striking). A twisted & barbed silver head band of intellect which seems to grow forth from his temples. This specially constructed ominous piece of jewellery has been magically grafted to Gratis's skull, a sinister artificial birthmark & crown the same. 
   He sports 3 visible magical tattoo's, beautiful calligraphic works he has created & enchants daily. The first 2 are nearly identical in appearance, (outwardly visible only on his forearms due to dress) and each run from the tips of his middle finger, up the length of his arm, ending at the shoulders. The third begins just above his navel & runs up his torso until it reaches his neck at which point it splits in two, circling like a necklace in the front, then arcing up on the side(s) of his neck to finish behind each of his ears.
   The archmage is generally seen as a loner, often ditching the members of his party when in more public settings. However Gratis is almost never alone. His faithful Imp familiar Heccubus is always sitting (normally invisible) on his shoulder. Those who know & have met Heccubus fear him. Not due to Imp's powerful master, but because of the small black devil's own formidable talents. This twisted winged taste of hellfire is fiercely protective of Gratis & Gratis alone, turning on any and all who attempt to do His master harm.    
   Gratis's tends to dress for function & utility, rarely for aesthetics. Spell component bandoleers, high black suede boots, trousers (no pockets), white tunics (generally with the sleeves rolled up), dual black gloves of storing, & a cloak of the arachnid comprise his typical dress. Cleanliness is paramount, and some rightfully say obsessive, for Gratis. Everyday without fail he spends 1 hour in the morning & before bedtime magically cleaning himself, & his familiar. Then mending even the smallest of imperfections from his garments. Gratis consumes only magically created food & drink (which was a HUGE pain when he was a low level character). 

Persona/character traits/history:
   A Paranoid schizophrenic, obsessive compulsive, megalomaniac, bigot, with aspirations of world domination (the forgotten realms). Spending most of his hours advancing his arcane might through study & obsessive practicing, testing, & experimenting, has made him anything but sociable. He is blunt & to the point, not prescribing to the normal verbal social niceties of "normal" people. Telling you what he wants directly, & rarely smiling. He loathes the touch of other beings, with the sole exception of Heccubuss, & is a self professed 137 year old virgin.  
   Gratis is a confident elf with a high, & in fact overdeveloped self esteem, "Elminster is an Idiot", but is in constant fear for his life, convinced that it will end before his will is made reality. Gratis spends countless hours not only devising his plans for world domination, but his plans for self-protection in every respect of the word. 
   He loathes(!!!!) all Sorcerers & Psionics, as they are nothing more then lazy, doing little to gain a power which he constantly toils to increase & maintain. This hatred is equally strong for "half breed" races, such as Half-orcs, & Half-elves. Gratis has an on going smear campaign/propaganda war to spread his "justified" views across the realms, in a hopes that one day all peoples may see 'the/his' truth about the noted infidels & ingrates. 
   Despite his darkness & hatred Gratis is hard to anger/enrage, & most often holds a level head under pressure.  


_______________________


Here's my submission. This is a great idea for a contest, I love Lockwood's art. I know my character's not very politically/morally correct, but he has been very interesting to play, & very hard at times. Making choices that, even though it's just 'imaginary, I personally feel guilty for (strange I know). 
   O.K. enough of my rambling. Good luck to everyone, the prise is very cool.


----------



## Clain MacFaileas

Xagunder MacFaileas, Esq.

A tall man in his early sixties, Xagunder has used his necromantic powers to keep himself fit for adventuring (and ruggedly handsome, if he does say so himself). Cocky and sure of himself, his overlarge mustaches are his pride and joy (and the fact that he shaves his head so no one can tell he's beginning to bald makes them that much more prominent).

A self made noble, Xagunder is always clad in the latest fashion, save for one. He is never seen, whether at the richest princess' birthday party or in the dankest of dragons' dungeons without his kilt. Wool, and of the purple, green, and black tartan of his clan, Xagunder's kilt makes him stand out wherever he travels.

Beyond his expensive clothes, Xagunder packs light for adventuring. On his forearms he wears a pair of magical bracers (which provide him with a fear aura as well as protection from level draining undead). Numerous knives filled with lawful magics adorn his person, and he always carries his "walking stick" (an iron rod of artifact power with three flanges at its top).

Necromancer, fop, adventurer, curmudgeon, and man-about-town, Xagunder is the very image of civility with the civilized and the very wrath of arcane magic with those who would try to bring society down.


----------



## der_kluge

double post.  Sorry.


----------



## der_kluge

*Annelise*

My character is an 18-yr. old female human, rog1/sorc6/mindbender1 - Annelise

She is a physically stunning (19 charisma) 4'11" with blonde hair that she keeps in the latest fashion.  When dolled up, she wears noble gowns, and expensive earrings and glittering jewelry.  A large chunk of her income goes towards expensive clothes and jewelry.

She grew up poor, and her father was a snake oil salesman.  She told everyone he was a priest.  She had an unnatural talent for people believing what she was telling them (Bluff +17) and has a natural glibness about her.  Her parents knew that she was destined for greatness, and she does seem to be headed in that direction.  She bought the services of many of the town's beggars to create her own underground beggar army of spies and information brokers.  So, despite her worldly appearance, she's not forgotten her lower class roots so much as to snub those who are less fortunate.

And despite her manipulative ways, she's still very naive about the world, and although she can lie like the best of them, she can be a bit gullable at times herself.  Her deep blue eyes call to even the most suspicous of folks that she can be trusted with your deepest secrets, and even if you didn't know her, you'd trust her implicitly.


----------



## DarkSoldier

I've got one pictured; I could do it myself, but I suck at perspective and action, and I worship Todd Lockwood, so I would put that picture in a special place, surround it with candles, and bring it burnt offerings every day.

I have two URLs (both on GeoCities; C&P if the links don't work) to pictures of the characters that I did myself.

http://www.geocities.com/dfloyd84/art/20years.jpg
http://www.geocities.com/dfloyd84/art/kerad4.jpg (another look)
http://www.geocities.com/dfloyd84/art/arik.jpg

Here's how I picture it: Kerad is down, on his back, with only one sword at hand. Arik is straddling his chest, pinning his right hand (sword hand) to the ground with his left hand, and holding the knife up in an icepick grip, ready to stab. Kerad has reached up with his free left to grab Arik's wrist, preventing him from stabbing. Arik has a look to death in his eyes; Kerad has a look of concern.

In the otherwise white space in the upper left quarter, Elizabeth stands back and watches, a perverse smile on her face.


----------



## Rabelais

*Vicomte Kraelian Liadon De Brise Crete*

Male Elf, NG, Bard 10/Duelist 4.  Vicomte Kraelian Liadon De Brise Crete travels under the nom de guerre Rabelais.   

I imagine him as a dashing swashbuckler, armed with his trusty rapier "Giselle" and his ghostly whip.

Rabelais is a swashbuckler in the proud tradition of the King's Musketeers.   He dresses impeccably in the latest fashions.  He's well groomed and strives to impress whomever he meets with his savoir-faire and courtly manner.  

Rabelais is a highly skilled fencer, he ought to be considering the amount of time he spends defending himself against angry husbands and jilted lovers.

Rabelais has no profession.  He is a "Gentleman Adventurer"  He is skilled in petty magic, the arts and science.  He is a skilled diplomat ex officio in the King's employ.  Rabelais is also a master Bridge player and orator.


----------



## alsih2o

kai, you are so hip it hurts. i thought you were great for getting the awesome art you have shared with us here on the boards and now you have taken it a goant step further, bravo to you.

 kai rocks, this community rocks.


----------



## Arravis

I'm posting here what I just edited on my entry...
--
Damn Kailord... I just re-read the first post. Seems that in my 1:00 am haze I didn't fully comprehend what you said... you're paying it out of your own pocket? I'm completely amazed and flabberghasted... wow! That is a hell of a 'thank you' to this enworld community! Thank you Kailord, that is beyond impressive.
--
-Arravis


----------



## Knightfall

*My third submission!*

_Kai, I MIGHT submit one or two more but I don't want go overboard._ 

*Spears*
_Adopted Son of the First Peoples_

Male half-orc Ftr3
Medium-Size Humanoid (Orc)

Hit Dice: 13hp + 2d10+6
Hit Points: 33

Initiative: +1 (Dex)
Speed: 30ft.
Armor Class: 14 (+1 Dex, +2 Armor, +1 Shield)
Attacks: +6 melee (dagger) or +7 melee (shortspear +1) or +5 ranged (shortspear +1)
Damage: 1d4+3 (dagger) or 1d8+4 (shortspear +1)
Face/Reach: 5ft./5ft.
Special Attacks: None.
Special Qualities: Darkvision, orc blood.
Saves: Fort +6, Ref +4, Will +5.
Abilities: Str 16/+3, Dex 12/+1, Con 16/+3, Int 8/-1, Wis 18/+4, Cha 11/+0.

Height: 5' 5"
Weight: 135 lbs.
Age: 20

Languages: Common, orc.

Skill Points: 6 (Ftr)
Skills: Climb +4, Heal +4, Intuit Direction +4.5, Listen +4, Ride +4, Sense Motive +4, Spot +4, Survival +4, Swim +4, Use Rope +1.
Feats: Improved Unarmed Attack, Lightning Reflexes.
Bonus Fighter Feats: Cleave, Power Attack.

Alignment: Neutral Good

Possessions: Belt pouch, bit and bridle, cold weather outfit, dagger, exotic riding saddle, leather armor, mount (Athel), saddlebags, _shortspear +1_, small wooden shield, waterskin, winter blanket.

Appearance: Spears' unique heritage means that he doesn't look or dress like the typical city dwelling orcs and half-orcs of Da'aphet or Heath's City.  He wears comfortable, warm clothing that is tanned dark pigments with a fur lined cloak and similar boots for protection from Malecade's harsh winters.  He typically wears his long hair braided back into a ponytail with several long dreadlocks along the side of his face.   His adopted Tigé tribe specially crafted his leather armor for him and the halfspear was a gift from the tribes chief on his passage into adulthood.  The spear is metal with several token feathers hanging from just behind the spearhead.  Spears' dagger is non-descript but it was his first ever weapon so he treasures it.  He carries the shield on his back and only fights with it when a one-handed weapon makes it way into his hands.  Despite his wild, unkempt appearance Spears is as civilized as the tigé of the Wildlands, which makes others think he is an uncouth barbarian or a renegade member of the Sermath'kah.

Background: Spears.  That is what his non-tribal friends call him.  His tribal name is near impossible for them to pronounce.  Roughly translated, his name is 'Child-Found-Amongst-Spears-in-Wilderness'.  These spears are actually a rock formation that sits near the center of the Wildlands, which look like six spears pointing up into the sky in a semi-circle.  It is in that place that a tigé tribe found him - a crying half-orc babe wrapped in althion leafs and hungry as a wild cat.

The tribe took him in and raised him as one of the First Peoples.  He learned of the world's history and the story of the Ethma'rieluna, the Children of the World.  He was given access to tutors from each race of the First Peoples.  Trooda druids and mystics taught him to respect the natural world, while his Teres tutors taught him to expand his mind and strengthen his body.  This training brought him great success amongst the First Peoples of the Wildlands but his orcish blood limited his ability to learn complex processes.  Undaunted, Spears concentrated on learning to understand his surrounding and protect himself with weapon and hand.

As the half-orc boy grew to manhood, he wished to learn where he came from.  His adopted family took him to the spear stones and told him of how they found him there all alone.  They tried to help him learn the truth by asking the druids and priests of Jaua Ae-rielun to divine his origins.  Surprisingly, there was no answer for his questions.  He decided to leave his tribe and set out to find where he came from.  If he was descended from the civilized orcs of the Ethma'rieluna or the savage goblinoids of the Sermath'kah.

He traveled north towards the SkyMountains to seek his origins and fulfill his destiny.  It was in these journeys that he met and befriended Sir Knak Rynne, Simon Mardin, and Marty LionMountain from Stortic [and then later, Nona Heartwood].  These five friends would travel and adventure together for the rest of their lives.

Personality: Amiable, inquiring, naive.  Spears has a tendency to watch what others are doing first then act on what seems the right course of action.  He is wise enough to know he isn't the tactician of the group and lets either Marty or Knak do the hard thinking.

*Mount: Giant wild cat, Athel*
_Huge Animal_
HD: 16d8+48 (120 hp)
Init: +2 (Dex)
Spd: 40ft.
AC: 16 (-2 size, +2 Dex, +6 natural)
Atks: 2 claws +18 melee, bite +13 melee
Dmg: Claw 2d4+8, bite 2d6+4
F/R: 15ft./10ft.
SA: Pounce, improved grab, rake 2d4+4.
SQ: Scent.
Saves: Fort +13, Ref +12, Will +11
Abilities: Str 27, Dex 15, Con 17, Int 2, Wis 12, Cha 10.
Skills: Hide +0*, Jump +11, Listen +3, Move Silently +9, Spot +3, Swim +11.
* Giant wild cats receive a +4 racial bonus to Hide and Move Silently checks.  * In the area of Malecade known as the Wildlands, the Hide bonus improves to +8.

*Glossary of Key Details*

Ethma'rieluna (Children of the World) - collective name of those races that have dedicated themselves to the teachings of Jaua Ae-rielun.
First Peoples, the - The term used to refer to the first three original races of the world: Teres, Tigé and Trooda.
Jaua Ae-rielun - the patron god of the world.  Powerful in the aspects of time, magic and community.
Rielun - The name of the world (the campaign is called Time of Ages).
Sermath'kah - evil seafaring humanoids,  mostly outcast goblinoids and minotaurs.
Teres - large lizardman-like race.
Tigé - small halfling-like race that live an aboriginal way of life.
Trooda - medium-size raptor-like race.
Wildlands - Those parts of the continent of Malecade that have been touched by the magic of Jaua Ae-rielun for the protection of the First Peoples.

*Brak1's headshot sketch:*


----------



## aerofynn

First things first. I just have to say what an incredible idea this is. I mean this is on par with R.A. Salvatore writing about your character or Steven Spielberg making a movie with him. 

Okay, now on to the character. This is one of the baddies from my current campaign. I labored over the storyline and this character in particular for almost 10 years before 3E came out and I found a group to play him against.

Ag Mawl
Ogre Mage Barbarian/Sorcerer

Ag Mawl is one of the mightiest members of the Agonals, a group of arcane space faring warriors. They are the military elite arm for the cabal of wizards known as the Zenithals.

He is dark, angry, and very intimidating at 10 feet tall. A furious warrior in robes that makes him look like a monk, he wields a huge thundering/shocking double headed war hammer with incredible skill. He enters combat throwing spells to catch his opponents off guards and builds into a rage of thunderous blows that few can stand against.


----------



## aerofynn

I know you are suppose to post characters, but how about a triplet? These are some contemporaries to my first post. I developed them for an episode of my current campaign that I called surprisingly enough "Shock and Awe". This was the first time I had the group sweating. They split up and these three caught them in an alley. It was sweat and like all good bad guys, they managed to get away. The fighter's jaw dropped when he let a kobold have nearly 30 points of damage in one round and it was still there. Loved it.

Ag Set
Kobold Rogue 12/Wizard 5

Ag Key
Kobold Monk 12/Sorcerer 5

Ag Ark
Kobold Ranger 10/Wizard 6

Ag Set, Ag Key, and Ag Ark are members of the Agonals, a group of space faring warriors who report to the cabal of wizards known as the Zenithals.

The three Agonals specialize in infiltration, spying, and assassination. They are cunning and deadly, often catching their opponents by surprise because they were expecting just a weak kobold. They are experts and skulking and sneaking around and few survive an ambush set by the three.

Ag Set wields a set of daggers, one a +3 frost dagger and the other a +2 flaming dagger. He is highly skilled with darts and carries many different varieties, including sleep darts and fireball darts.

Ag Key is deadly accurate with shuriken, favoring shocking shuriken. In close combat, he utilizes a pair of brilliant energy punching daggers.

Ag Ark is the sniper of the three. He is incredibly accurate with his short bow +2 and his variety of arrows including fireball arrows, poison arrows, slow arrows, acid arrows, shocking arrows, and web arrows. If pressed into hand-to-hand combat, he wields a wounding short sword +2 and a +1 dagger of venom.


----------



## ThorneMD

Here are two 

Bomefru
Male Wild Elf Barbarian/fighter
Icy Burst Dwarven Waraxe on one side
+1 Handaxe on the other
Quarterstaff in hand, holding like a martial artist
Belt of Mage Armor
Ring of Spell Storing
Thick cloak of a random animal

Description

Bomefru's clothes are almost entirely covered in fur like the picture in the DMG. Bomefru describes himself as "Strong, Angry, but dumb like Big Tree".

Araust
Male Human Fighter
6'7''
Mercenary/Bounty Hunter
Sythe with some kind of Runes on it
Flowing Worn Cloak
Angry Look on face
Scar across Left Eye
Spiked Blonde Hair
Whip(optional)
The Sword that is in the below pic on his back, needed
Hitman Style Gloves


----------



## ThorneMD

And another three

Roscoe
Male Halfling Rouge 9/Cleric 1/Deepwood Sniper 1
+1 Studded Leather
+1 Mighty Composite Shortbow
MW Shortsword at side
one jeweled MW daggar in boot
eight daggars across chest
cloak with the hood down
Boots of Springing and Striding
Quiver of Elhona(sp?)
Gloves of Orge Power
hidden holy symbol (just a string around his neck)
long braided blond hair
green eyes
extra short

Taka
Fighter 1/Wizard 10 
Half-Elf/Half-Something
Long Golden Brown Hair
Barely Noticeable reptilian skin
longer leaner limbs
claws
very slight horns at his temples
orientally dressed in kimono
katana on left
Longsword on right (looks like it came from Germany, given to him in a will from a deceased friend.)
One really big spellbook
+1 Quarterstaff(simple, black)
Amulet of Tongues
Falcon on his shoulder
a elven ring on his right hand
a staff of fire
Sash of Mage Armor
a cloak
I say he is half-elf because he still dosen't know what his father is. 
I will attach a earlier pic of him for reference.

Motubo
Male Mul Barbarian Cleric
Former Galdiator
5'9'' 220 (Mul's are all muscle)
skin = dark brown
Falchion at left side
Gauntlets
Turban with a piece loose so he can cover his face (think the Moor from "Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves")
Loose v-cut tunic (short sleeves)
Loose arabian trousers
hand on Falchion
Necklace of Prayer Beads

This is the greatest idea I have seen in a while.  I must thank you.


----------



## Eosin the Red

Kailord said more than one so - here is my second entry. He is a warder from the Wheel of Time.

_____________________________________________
N'Klas
A tall and well-built Shienaran. His lack of a topknot sets him apart from his countrymen, but his deadly manner unmistakably identifies him as a Shienaran warrior. His long black hair is usually held in a ponytail by a silver hoop. He has weary blue eyes with premature creases at the edges. Like most warders, something tells others he is dangerous even when at rest.

History: N’Klas and his twin sister grew up on a farm close to Fal Dara, they both grew to hate the shadow slowly stealing up on them. When Tamigwen was 12, it was discovered that she had the spark. She was packed off to Tar Valon like all girls who are found. N’Klas felt that he could not leave his sisters protection to the Aes Sedai so he packed what he could and set off after her. He spent several months in the city of Tar Valon looking for a way to get into the White Tower to see his sister, until he was spotted by a brown sister named Verin who recognized him. He was brought to the tower and questioned. It was decided that he should remain close to his sister and begin training as a warder, rather than be sent home only to run away once more. N’Klas grew into a man under Aglamar, but Hammar made him a warrior. Now that his sister has taken him as her warder, they travel the north searching for signs of shadowspawn. They do return to the tower occasionally. Recently, they heard of the split in the tower and rushed back only to discover the truth was worse than they had believed. While Tamigwen plots their course of action, N’Klas is seeking to discover more about those who killed his mentor. He has made a vow that they will pay for their treachery.   


N’Klas Gronican, male Borderlander, Armsman6/ Wanderer2/ Woodsman2/ Thief-Taker 3: CR 13; Size M; HD 8d10 + 5d6 + 26; hp 96; Init +6 (+2 Dex, +4 PII); Spd 30 ft.; AC 26 (+2 Dex, +10 Class, +2 Warder’s Cloak, +2 Leather Armor); Attack +17/+12/+7 Melee (Warder’s sword 1d10+5/19-20), or +14/+9/+4 Ranged (Shortbow 1d6/x3); SQ Armor Compatibility, Brotherhood Contacts, Capture, Illicit Barter, Natures Warrior, Opportunist, Sneak Attack, Traps, Uncanny Dodge, Warder’s Bond; SV Fort +10, Ref +11, Will +7; Rep 6; Str 16 (+3), Dex 14 (+2), Con 14 (+2), Int 16 (+3), Wis 14 (+2), Cha 13 (+1). 


Languages Spoken: Common (Cairhien, Midlands), Old Tongue. 

Skills: Appraise +5, Balance +8, Bluff +7, Climb +8, Diplomacy +5, Disable Device +4, Escape Artist +4, Gather Information +9, Handle Animal +6, Hide +9, Intimidate +9, Intuit Direction +4, Jump +9, KS: Blight +10, KS: Nature +6, KS: Nobility +4, Listen +12, Move Silently +11, Open Lock +4, Pick Pockets +3, Read Lips +5, Ride +6, Search +14, Sense Motive +8, Spot +7, Swim +7, Tumble +8, Use Rope +4, Wilderness Lore +8 

Base Feats: Dark One’s Own Luck, Exotic Weapon (Warders Sword), Improved Initiative, Track, Combat Expertise, Exotic Weapon (swordbreaker), Heroic Surge, Latent Sniffer, Power Attack, Shadowspawn Hunter, Shadowspawn Hunter (M), Sniffer.     
Possessions: Masterpiece Warder’s Sword, Warder’s Cloak, The Black Mask, Thieves Tools, Warhorse with Military saddle, Leather Armor, Shortbow   

N'klas does not normally wear armor or carry a shield. He dresses in a style of fighting clothes that are almost monkish.


----------



## Shub-Niggurath

Vorkannis the Ebon:

    An arcanoloth I've been using as the main, underlying villian of my ongoing Planescape campaign.  

       Vorkannis is unique as far as arcanoloths go, by virtue of having a nearly jet black coat of fur, rare among color patterns for the fiends. His eyes are a piercing reddish pink color (almost like a reverse albino. Jet black fur with the reddish eyes common for albino animals) , and several glowing gems orbit around his head, all of them magical. 

      He dresses in finely tailored wizards robes of cobalt blue, black, and charcoal grey trimmed in silver runes and abstract patterns that cover most of his body save for his head, clawed hands and feet. Tucked into the waist of the robe he has a number of wands and magical rods. He holds a small blue gem about the size of hens egg that follows him about, floating near him when not held in his hand. Of the three other Arcanoloths in the cabal that saw him rise in the Yugoloth ranks, he holds the most personal power and ambition, but prefers to remain behind the scenes, hidden, holding his abilities secret or at least uncertain in the eyes of any rival. Until recently anyways...

     He always seems to be followed by a patch of shadows, the light in a room dimming with his passing, as either his form, or robes seems to draw in ambient light letting him literally skulk in the shadows of a room regardless of the situation most of the time.  

    He recently ascended to the position of Oinoloth, by a web of guile and treachery, butchering the opposing forces of Yugoloths loyal to both Mydianchlarus, then the current Oinoloth, and Anthraxus the Decayed, the former holder of the Seige Malicious. Not only those Yugoloths loyal to him and his fellow conspiritors aided in this blood bath, but the forces of the Hag Countess of Baator and the Mother of Serpents, the hydra of legend formerly held captive in Elysium till freed and cowed to his Will took part in his rebellion and saw swing the heads of a thousand ultraloths upon the ramparts and spires of the Wasting Tower.

      Since then he’s been changed into something… else. Neither truly remaining an Arcanoloth, nor becoming an Ultroloth, he has retained his physical form seemingly, but his mind has tasted to corruption of the throne of Khin-Oin and his thoughts more and more like those of an Ultroloth. 

    The shadows that always followed him around previously now seem to resemble more blotches and motes of whispy shadows trailing from the main umbral cloak surrounding him almost like the physical manifestation of an artists rendition of a cloud of plague spores.

	He’s without peer the most powerful, and most evil of the three, now four Arcanoloths he conspired with to take the Seige Malicious. (the others being Shemeska the Marauder, Helekanalaith the Keeper of the Tower of the Arcanoloths, and Shylara Akt'Atarm) 

        He’s been both a father figure, teacher, and lover for his protégé the Arcanoloth Shylara Akt'Atarm, newly ascended as ruler of the Tower of Incarnate Pain in Carceri. Admittidly it's debateable if he actually cares for her other than to create a loyal ally in a place of power whom he has been able to select and breed for the position he’s placed her in to give him a known quantity in the ranks below who would normally jostle for his position at the soonest sign of weakness on his part.

    "But still, regardless of my present situation and my recent ascension as Mistress of the Tower of Incarnate Pain, I am preoccupied. My thoughts flee their surroundings and I cannot help but dwell upon my Master, my teacher and my lover, Vorkannis the Ebon, Oinoloth of the Wasting Tower.

     He took me under his wing, teaching me as a protégé, and acting not unlike a father to me. Might be possibly have been? And indeed I considered it for a time. But no, I fought my way up the Yugoloth hierarchy like most of my fellows, not born into my station, but rather having seized it through a millennia of struggle, triumph, treachery, and ultimately purification.

     Did he have ulterior motives in taking me into his confidence, or what passes for that mortal word here among my kind? Most certainly he did. And indeed I shared my body with him a hundred thousand times. I whored myself to him like some slavering, shrieking Tanar’ri slut in the arms of an Abyssal Lord...

     And so he asked me, ‘What is it you want? A question we might ask some mortal seeking youth or beauty or wealth or power over one’s enemies. But turn inwards and ask yourself the question. Is there something you want? Or is the process of wanting itself that drives us? The eternal envy of others, of seeing another fall, of killing another just to see his own drive for power blunted and shattered as the light fades in his eyes and he realizes just what has happened?’  

     Ambition was never something he lacked, indeed I might say he embodied the true essence of what it meant to be a Yugoloth. He seemed distant from the game we all played, watching with a smug, knowing, aloof contentedness right up until the moment he would plunge in his fist and tear away from some soon forgotten other just what it was he wanted. And then he would sneer and laugh at this lesson he had taught us." -Shylara Akt'Atarm speaking of Vorkannis the Ebon

	Hubris describes his personality. Pride, ambition to a fault and ruthlessness tempered with patience and a surreal wisdom and forethought.  In fact, even among his fellow Arcanoloths and the Ultroloths who now chaff under the rule of this 'lesser' fiend, he is an utter mystery. He seems to have appeared from nowhere, not having previously been recognized among the Yugoloths ranks in his rise to power.

      He simply appeared out of the hinterlands of the Grey Waste possessed of a drive to power and knowing things he simply should not have known.

    "I still have so many questions about him, that I dare say I may never have answered. None of us yet know really where he came from, or where he rose to power, and what indeed was the fate of Bubonix and Cholerix. They are dead, that we all are certain of. But the manner of their passing, and what the Ebon took from them before they uttered their last gasp… that I do not know. 

      And where he learned the language of the Baern, for that is what he called it, we do not know. I always had assumed the Baernoloth to be a myth we ourselves created to spread among the celestials and the other fiends to increase our own status and to waste their time as they scoured tomes and the hinterlands of the Waste searching for our hidden, mysterious progenitors. What does it say if they do truly exist? And what more does that say of The Ebon…" - Shylara Akt'Atarm speaking of Vorkannis the Ebon


   Fluff aside (and I've got some 50-60 pages of notes regarding the plot and him. *grin*), his stats are somewhere along the lines of an advanced male Arcanoloth, wiz 20, or thereabouts with a whole host of unique traits.


----------



## Eosin the Red

Dang! Double post


----------



## Heavy3p0

*Character art contest*

Hi!
  obviously i am entering my character so i can try to win the cool original art so here he is (for more information visit www.home.earthlink.net/~heavy3p0/frfontpage.html, my D&D website).

Umli Hafthammer, dwarven armorer-priest of Moradin.
1st level fighter/ 5th level cleric.
   Umli currently has left his dwarven homeland for a span of 75 years to study the armor-smithing of the other (non-dwarven) races. he has some how got himself mixed with an adventuring party who are on a quest to ,of course, save the world.
   He has become team leader as no one else in the party wanted the job and some one had to straighten out that unruly band of mauraders before some one killed them (they were sorely lacking in common sense).
   As a priest with abilities scores below the party avarage, Umli spends most of his time talking his way out of trouble or making jokes, as he is little use in combat beyond casting cure spells. I like to think of him as the D&D equivalent to R2D2 as he is a squat armored tin-can with lifesaving abilities but is still the comic relief. he (un-originaly) talks in the traditional scottish accent used by most dwarf players but hey, what are you gunna do?

but rather than talk about him all day ( because like all true D&D players i can) i will let you see for your self, below is an excert from my character journal where Umli and gang meet up with an ettin they were supposed to kill to aquire components for an npc's divination spell:

 He was seated before a fire where an entire elk was being roasted on a spit. He invited the party to supp with him and Umli gladly sat down and offered the large two-headed man some wine from his skin. 
 “So what brings you to my woods?” boomed both heads from the ettin at once. 
 “Well, we were lookin’ fer you actually.” Answered the dwarf. 
 “Oh really? Now why would that be?” the ettin arching one eyebrow on each head. 
 “I Dunnae think I should tell ye. So what do ye do in these woods?” 
 A slight hint of humor crept into the ettin’s voice,”changing the subject aye? Well I Hunt and fish, I defend these woods from harm, and try to keep as far from the filthy cities of man as I can. Now why are you here seeking me in my woods?” 
 “Well I am a little ashamed to admit it, but we came to kill you and take your eyes.” Umli looked up at the giant with no small amount of apprehension. It’s never a good idea to tell anyone ten times your size that you had intended to kill him. 
 “Well then we have a problem.” The ettin began to reach for a pair of very large war clubs. Umli suppressed the urge to panic and attempted to dissuade the giant from attacking. 
 “Lets not be hasty now, ye’ve been a very gracious host, and it would be very rude of us to try in kill ye now.” Explained Umli, hoping that the ettin will respond favorably. 
 “But none the less you came here with the intent to kill me and remove my eyes” 
 “Well yes, we came to kill an ettin and take his eyes, but not necessarily yer eyes. If ye could only direct us to where we might find a nastier ettin of the man eating type, perhaps one who stole yer ettin wife perhaps, then we would be on our way?” Umli cracked his famous ‘please don’t hurt me’ smile. 
 “There are no other ettins in the woods, and now you have spoiled my appetite. You may leave, but your elf may not. I have decided that elf would taste better than this elk.” Said the ettin as he stood up holding his clubs. 
 “Well I guess that solves our little problem then doesn’t it? We can kill an elf-eating ettin as easily as the man-eating variety. Make yerself ready ettin.” And with that the party set into the large two-headed foe, greatly relieved that the tense, yet comical situation was finally over. The ettin proved to be a mighty opponent but was outnumbered, and unable to put down any of his attackers even though his might strength enabled him to wound any he hit severely. 

Thanks for reading my entry,
Heavy3p0@yahoo.com


----------



## Green Knight

Hmm. So I gotta go indepth in background, too? Seems to make more sense to me that one would describe how a character looks, if you want them to be drawn, but oh well. I'll do both. 

*Balin Cormaeril, Purple Dragon of Cormyr, Bard, and Paladin of Helm* 

Balin is a man approaching 40 years of age. Raised as a noble amonst the powerful Cormaeril family in Cormyr, Balin grew up self-centered and spoiled, wiling away the days with his huntsmen in the woods, and the nights wooing maidens with his songs and poetry. As far as he was concerned, the whole world revolved around himself, and anything which didn't personally impact his world was all but non-existent in his mind. 

This all changed one night when he received the Calling to Paladinhood. He surprised even himself when he answered the Calling, becoming a Paladin in the service of Helm, the Protector. Thereafter referring to himself as "Balin Ironside" (Though never lying and saying it was his True Name), he enlisted with the Purple Dragons. He did this not out of shame, but out of a sincere desire to avoid special treatment for his noble heritage. Little did he know that this would save him later in life. 

So Balin served with the Purple Dragons, steadily rising in rank and esteem. He came to be known as "The Black Dragon", for his trademark magical black armor, etched with draconic designs, and a helm in the likeness of a dragon. Balin eventually came to leed a unit of Purple Dragon scouts on the outskirts of Cormyr, guarding against incursions, monster brigands, and taking part in the occasional borderland skirmish. There he served King, Country, and God by protecting Cormyr against all those who would threaten it. Unfortunately, Balin couldn't protect Cormyr from the enemy within. 

Balin had spent a long time away from home. Even when he was at home, he had been so wrapped up in his own life that he never noticed the rot at the heart of his family. So Balin was taken completely by surprise when the attempted assassination of King Azoun IV in 1369 DR was perpetrated NOT by an outside power, such as the Zhentarim or Red Wizards, but by Cormyreans. Specifically, House Bleth and House Cormaeril. 

For their crimes, House Cormaeril was banished from Cormyr, their lands and titles stripped from them. Balin only escaped punishment because he was known as Ironside, not Cormaeril. Still, he sank into a deep melancholia. Though no one knew of it, he knew of his own disgrace. Balin spent the next two years in this state, performing his duties half-heartedly, as if he had lost the will to continue fighting. The men under his command began to lose faith in their leader, as he seemed to have lost his shwred fighting edge. 

It all came to a head in 1371 DR. The invasion of "The Devil Dragon", Nalavarauthatoryl the Red and her goblin hordes. Balin saw this as his chance to regain his honor, but in each engagement he and his men tasted defeat. It all culminated in the final climactic battle of the war, when King Azoun himself faced the Devil Dragon. Balin raced towards the field of battle, intent on serving his King in one last battle. But it wasn't to be. 

By that point, Balin had become so obsessed with proving himself, that he had lost sight of the bigger picture. He was so intent on the future that he failed to take notice of what was happening in the present. And so Balin led his men right into a goblin trap. They fought bravely, but in the end most of them were killed. The rest were taken away in chains, Balin among them. 

Balin spent the next year in a goblin prison camp, marking the days on his cell walls, eating whatever vile food the goblins fed him, and enduring whatever tortures they devised to amuse themselves. By that point they knew they had lost the war, but they had no intentions of giving up their Purple Dragon prisoners, those taken from Balin's unit, amongst others. Whatever tortures the goblins devised, though, didn't compare to what would come to the prisoners at night. 

Unbeknownst to the goblins at the time, they had built their prison camp in a grove haunted by the spirit of an elf maiden named Talindra Eveningfall. The elf ghost bore no ill will towards the goblins, but she had a visceral hatred of the Cormyrean prisoners. In centuries past, in the early days of Cormyr, Talindra and her younger sister had lived in those woods as part of a small clan of elves. One day they had wandered off into a lonely part of the woods where they encountered a group of Cormyrean brigands who made their home in that part of the woods. The Cormyreans, seeing that the two elf maids were alone, took them prisoner. After having had their way with them for a month, the Cormyreans murdered the two elves. Talindra watched in horror as they slit the throat of her younger sister, just before they cut her own throat and buried them both in a shallow grave. 

Talindra's spirit, however, would not rest. Rising several nights later, she began to terrorize the Cormyrean brigands. She tormented them nightly, killing them one by one til none were left. Despite having killed the ones who murdered her and her sister, her hatred of Cormyreans wasn't sated. And so she stayed in that grove, murdering any Cormyreans which came within her grasp. As luck would have it, the site of her grove became the location of a goblin prisoner camp. So Talindra carried on her vendetta against the occupants of the cells. Every morning the goblins would find a fresh corpse, drained of life. Other prisoners they would find pale, as if part of their life force had been drained away from them. 

Balin was one of her victims. She particularly hated him, as he showed no fear for her and was resistant to her attempts at draining his life force, and was even able to hurt her with his bare hands! So Talindra took a differet tack, spending many nights in his cell, whispering in his ear, accusing him of the crime which had been perpetrated against her and her sister so long ago, but still Balin stood firm, ignoring her taunts. Though Balin slowly began to believe the accusations she levelled at him. 

Then Talindra told Balin about the fate of his brother, Rowen. Balin's beloved brother, the only real family he had, had been cursed, becoming one of the deaded Ghazneth's which Balin had heard of in the war with the Devil Dragon but had never faced. With that news, Balin had lost all will to resist. Talindra delighted as Balin was at last broken. Balin lost his Paladinhood, and with it his ability to resist Talindra. Eventually he too began to grow pale, as Talindra drained more and more of his life-force away. 

Had Balin remained, he would've soon died. Another corpse for the goblins to cart out of his cell in the morning and burn. Fortunately for him, while the spirit of Talindra was focused on him, other prisoners had had the chance to organize an escape attempt. They freed most of the prisoners, including Balin, and managed to take control of the armory. Taking whatever arms and equipment they could get their hands on, the Purple Dragons fought their way out of the prison camp and escaped. 

But while the rest of the prisoners went east, heading home to Cormyr, Balin went west. By this point, Balin was a thouroughly broken man and had no desire to go home. And so he traveled west, til at last he came to Baldur's Gate. There, he proceeded to eek out whatever menial living he could, spending whatever little money he had drowning his sorrows in ale at the local inn, singing mournful ballads. 

*Current Sketch:* Balin Cormaeril is a broken man, a hollow look in his eyes. He has dark brown hair, which is beginning to grey around the edges, a scraggly beard, and a granite-like face which is beginning to show cracks and wrinkles. He's tall, at 6'2", and well-muscled, though his frequent drinking has begun to show in his gut. 

In his prime, Balin had been a mighty warrior, highly skilled at armed combat, mounted combat, stealth techniques, and tracking, as well as wielding numerous holy powers and powerful magic weapons and armor. Balin is now only a shadow of the man he was. His arms and armor had long been sold by his goblin captors, and his spirit, drained by Talindra, contains none of the fighting prowess which he formerly demonstrated. 

(***Below is what I want drawn if I win***) 

This is how Balin looked back in the day. 

He wore a suit of mithral full plate armor. It was enchanted with the_ Silent Moves_ and_ Shadow_ (Which is what made it black) abilities, allowing Balin to move stealthily, despite being fully armored. The helm was shaped as the head of a dragon, and the whole of the armor had a draconic theme to it. Balin also wore a purple cloak. 

Balin wielded several weapons, continuing the draconic theme. The first was a_ Holy_ longsword ("Dragon's Tooth"), on the pommel of which he had a Holy Symbol of Helm. He had a Repeating Crossbow ("Dragon's Breath"), the front of which was designed to look like the mouth of a dragon, which fired_ Acidic_ bolts. He was also armed with a whip ("Dragon's Tail") of_ Disarming_, and a heavy lance ("Dragon's Claw"). Lastly, he wielded a black shield bearing a Purple Dragon. 

While still having some grey in his hair, it wasn't as prominent as it is, now. He was also clean shaven with hair cut short, and didn't have the beer gut which he has, now. 

And there you go.


----------



## Stygian

Amator Laranadel

Elf. Male. 5'5 125'bs
Hair: Long, straight, Red with black at the edges
Eyes: Red, no pupils
Wizard 6th level/Warrior 2nd Level
Carries a longsword, short bow, two daggers, and has a white snowowl for a familar (named Persephone).
Dresses in white with silver and red trim.
Currently a pair of gray pants, with a loing white jacket over black shirt. The jacket has a mid level collar that is folded. There are silver arcane designs along the sides and red along the seems. Over this he wears a red cloak with a silver swan on the back. His longsword is masterwork and elegant but not too flashy. He wears a phoenix feather (gift from the bird itself)  on an earring in his right ear.  
He has a phoenix tattoed on his left forearm. He often rolls the sleeves of his jacket up so it can be seen.  His boots and gloves are soft leather and the gloves have no fingers, (spell components you know) His spell books and components are on belt & thigh pouches. 
He smiles alot is rather charming and has a taste for tall human women.
Persephone has white feathers and green eyes.

Amator has minor abilities to control fire. A direct result of his accidental and unprotected jaunt into the elemental plane of fire. 

Amator is quick to action but can be impulsive in a way that seems alien to most other elves. He is surprisingly strong and hearty for someone so small and often seems "bigger" than his actual height would indicate.


----------



## Ricochet

Carados Hammerheim

Carados is a 4'2" dwarven wizard (illusionist), who roams the world of Greyhawk.

He has a beard that reaches his upper body (not too long, he is not so old) and around the mouth, and long hair with a few braids in it. His hair is brownish, with a few white stripes in it.

He has dark eyes, and a somewhat large nose (and a large belly to boot, although not really under the "fat"-category)

He wears blue and black robes, adorned with symbols of magic, like a lightning bolt or some such symbols. He wears a large leather belt, the beltbuckle being his wizards sigil, a big C with a smiths hammer sloped inside the C.

Carados has a dark blue silk cloak which he got for helping defend a human settlement against an orc invasion. The cloak is a bit too long for the dwarf, so it hangs a bit behind him on the ground, but due to its magic nature, it cannot become shrivelled.

In his hands, Carados always carries a wooden staff with metal-inlaid edges. Nothing fancy, just a solid staff meant for walking and pummeling monsters.

A finely crafted heavy crossbow is strapped on Carados' back, and it's almost always loaded with a bolt.

He had no visible scars or anything like that, but always has a determined look on his face.

History: The Hammerheim clan was almost wiped out by orcs in Carados early adventuring years, and he vowed revenge. Having gotten it, he looks to further help his clan and his kin. He wants to be the one to unite the dwarf clans of Greyhawk, and once again build an empire under the earth with mighty magic and weaponry, securing the dwarven way of life for years to come.

His best friend is sometimes a half-elf Paladin called Solar and sometimes a human druid called Twil. He is a kind and determined dwarf, but doens't play other sides than his own, his firends and his kins (neutral alignment).

Carados is always interested in magical phenomena, and is a strange sight for many of his dwarven brothers, yet slowly but surely he is becoming accepted as a wizard in the society, and he looks forward to one day train more dwarven wizards himself.


Thanks for this great opportunity!


----------



## Kae'Yoss

My entry: My first (and senior) D&D 3e Character. I get to play him for another session, in the final battle for the future of the elves.

*Pharaun "Veluuthra" Craulnober*: Male Moon Elf Fighter 5/ Wizard / Divine Champion of Corellon Larethian 4/ Bladesinger 20. 

His most prized possessions:
Belt of Giant Strength +12
Boots of Swiftness
Amulet of Resistance + 10
Armor of the Celestial Battalion
"Veluuthra": Intelligent +6 Defending Screaming Long Sword.

Age: 133
Height: 5" 5'
Weight:127 lbs
Eyes: Blue-Gray
Hair: Black
Skin: White (Tinged with blue in places, as with many Silver Elves).
AL: CG


Abilities: Str 26(38) Dex 16(22), Con 12(18), Int 14(20), Wis 8(14), Cha 14(20).

Speed: 60 ft, Fly 90 ft (Armor).

Skills (most important): Balance +32, Diplomacy +17, Jump +53 (not limitet by height), Knowledge (Religion) + 20, Knowledge (Elven History) +13, Perform (Sing, Dance, Lute, Harp, Ballads, Old Elven Folklore, Comedy, and others) +19, Spellcraft +15, Tumble +53.

Feats (most Notable): Weapon Focus, Weapon Specialization, Epic WF, Epic WS, Improved Critical, Power Critical, Overwhelming Critical (all Long Sword). Spring Attack, Whirlwind Attack, Great Cleave, Expertise.

Most favorite spells: Haste, True Strike, Mirror Image, Keen Edge, Shield, Dimension Door.

Pharaun is a slender, but strong, moon elf born in the forest of Cormanthor. He's a devout worshipper of Corellon, and has been appointet high Bladesinger of Faerûn. He thinks of himself as a champion of the People, and protects them whenever necessary. Despite all that, he's merry most of the time. He likes to sing elven ballads (playing on the harp or lute, as appropriate for the song) or tell stories.

Under his armor, he wears mostly green and brown hues. His armor itself is magnificent: A suit of chainmail made of mithral much lighter than normal (the Armor of the Celestial Battallion), over which he wears a holy symbol of corellon, also made of mithral. He wears his hair long and unbound, which whirls around him when he's dancing (or fighting, which is almost the same). He seems to carry no weapon (except a composite longbow), but in the face of an enemy he can call forth his sword Veluuthra from a magical tatoo on the palm of his right hand (which looks like a sword encased by a crescend moon, Corellon's symbol).

Unless the enemies are obviously evil, he tries to settle things without bloodshed, and even in battle he often shows mercy to those that aren't beyond redemption.

Like all bladesingers, he doesn't just casts spells and attacks: he sings and dances. He blends his attacks and parries (or dodges), and his spellcasting into a lightning-fast performance that is as beautiful as it is deadly. His attacks and parries with Veluuthra, his longsword, are one fluid movement, which he combines with his quick and graceful movements and his spellcasting. His alternates between defensive strikes, swift slashes, and graceful yet deceptively powerful lunges, sometimes aided by magic (true strike). 
In addition to his armor and agility (often improved by haste), he often uses the Shield spell to protect himself, or he casts Fire Shield or Improved Invisibility (which he only uses in emergencies, since it spoils his performance if noone can see him). He's also fond of mirror image, and the sight of 9 bladesingers whirling and striking at him will unsettle many a foe.
When fighting the most vicious foes of the elves, especially worshippers of Lolth and Malar, he often proclaims every hit as a strike for Corellon Larethian or the Seldarine to spite his foes. For such foes, he seldomly has mercy to spare.
Despite his hatred of Lolth and the spider kissers, he tries to unite the elven People with those drow who are willing to set aside the hate and ally themselves with fairy folk for the good of all elves. He has forged many alliances between elves and drow, especially with worshippers of eilistraee, but even with some who follow Vhaeraun, a fact which made him many enemies in the past, most notably with the sun elves and with Shaverash-worshippers. This is partly because he himself has drow blood running through his vains (although he is a moon elf): His mother, a CN cleric of Erevan Ilesere who fell in love with a Darkmask of Vhaeraun (who was CN himself and a believer of the Vhaeraunan heresy that the elven race should stand united against Lolth and other foes of the elves) which helped her when she was attacked by a raiding party of lolth-worshippers. 
He was raised by his mother and a correlite bladesinger (who was the only elf that shared their secret) but regularly met with his true father. His stepfather's deeds filled him with wonder of the bladesingers and of corellons faith and thus entflamed his desire to become a bladesinger himself.


----------



## The Grumpy Celt

For the sake of brevity...

Grimm is a half-orc sorcerer (7th level), barbarian (3rd level). He started as a riff on "Morpheus" from the Matrix but gradually transformed so he was also a riff on "Scorpious" from Farscape.

Thank you for your consideration.


----------



## The Grumpy Celt

Not a double post, but Mr. Lockwood's page appears to be down.


----------



## Ertai

*Ely Winterwood*

It's not much, but at the same time, it's enough, ya know?

Ely Winterwood is a Druid of Ehlonna.

------

The door to the Tankard opened quickly, letting the brisk Patchwall air dance among the tables and stools. The short little halfling walked purposely through the doorway, his short cropped hair bouncing ever so slightly with his step. Silver-threaded animals danced up the hunter green sleeves of his loose tunic as he glanced around, a stern look painting his young, angular face.

He turned in a full circle, the iron shod quarterstaff stemming from his sack knocking a solid table leg. An orcish oath escaped his lips, sending the lightfoot leaping into the air, surprised. When he landed, his small hands covered his mouth, and his black eyes twinkled with amusement.

-----

Good luck to all, and thanks to Kai!


----------



## Visceris

Okay, I tend to be more of a DM than a player so I don't have a favorite PC that I would love to be done.  However I do have a favorite uber-villain that has been in the background of my homebrew FR campaign.

Scion was the Forgotten Realms tarrasque that was captured by a Phaerimm enclave.  These Phaerimm were being attacked and beaten down by both the Sharn and the Netherese Shades.  They needed a weapon that could be used against their enemies and conquer Faerun once and for all.

The created a ritual that would bind the tarrasque to their will and increase his strength and tenacity tenfold, but the ritual went wrong.  The spell infused the collective intelligences and power of the Phaerimm into the Tarrasque.  The Weave went through the creature and altered hum to have a more humanoid appearance, vast intelligence, and the ability to access the weave directly to form spells and command Spellfire.  Scion fed directly off the Weave for sustainance.

During the course of the campaign he formed a large goblinoid and giant army, along gained the possesion of the Crystal Shard.  He was a constant threat to the PCs, directly and indirectly.  I also used the Apocalypse Stone module in that campaign (converting the necessary tidbits to 3e and FR specifics) so the gods power waned.  That had some undesirable effects on the Chosen of the gods.  Fzoul, Elminster, and so forth.

Scion wears a golden half plate armor (made for his size) and wields a bladed staff for melee.  The Crystal Shard is embedded in his forhead (yes, he put it there) which he as complete dominance over.

Yes, Scion was built to be a munchkin killer.


----------



## JesterPoet

*Kobolds Ate My Baby 3e*

Eegraawrrr (Deceased)


Lo, we mourn the passing of Eegraawrrr, the fearless Kobold;

Stealer of the Mighty Chicken!

Wielder of the *IRON PAN OF DESTRUCTION*™!

Swallower of Whole Babies!

Kneecapper of the AXE-WIELDING ADVENTURER!

Digger of the *2-FOOT-DEEP* Pothole-Of-Doom!


For, lo, though he fell victim to the great CURTAIN-ROD-OF-CLUBBING, 
and perished in the Great Nursery Fire of '22, 
the growl of his name still rings fear in the hearts of 
various farm-fowl and small rodents!

ALL HAIL KING TORG!


----------



## BLACKDIRGE

Grummok, Gargoylr Rog5/Asn10. 

For all the details see my thread in the rogue's gallery.

Grummok, Gargoyle Assassin NPC (The rise of a master assassin) updated 04/02/03 (  1 2 3 4 ) 

Well, its worth a shot.


----------



## Arravis

Well, I'm sticking  to my "wants to be perfect, but is all too human" character only. If I only get one drawn, I'd rather it be him anyway.


----------



## Kai Lord

Hi everyone, awesome characters!  Thanks for all the kind words and thanks to Piratecat for the Community Supporter account.  Much appreciated!

I just spoke to Todd, he'll actually be helping me choose the final ten.  I'll pick my favorite twenty and then we'll both decide which characters will go into the top ten that you'll all vote on.  So that takes some of the heat off of me for any characters that don't make it, and for the ten finalists you'll all know that even if you don't win you still created a character that sparked Todd's interest.   

Good luck everyone!


----------



## DKboston

*A worthy contest and my submission*

Our campaign exists in a slightly modified version of Faerun. I have included a history, discription and the PRC

Zoe Winafenestra E'Lundarriest 4/Paladin 2/ E'Lundar 1
Moon Elf
Str:12 Dex:16 Con:10 Wis:14 Int:11 Chr:18

*HISTORY: Zoe Winafenestra E’Lundar* 

Almost 90 years have passed since her mother, Ela Winafenestra disappeared, the gem thrones were brought down, and the elvin court began to fall into drow hands. Since that time Zoe’s life has been a string of trials, suffering, and death. The elvin community, ripped apart by war that grew out of the House Jaelre uprising abandoned the gemstone throne and the families that had sat upon it for thousands of years marking the end of the Gemstone Dynasties rule. The name Winafenestra a name that sprang from the merging of two of the gemstone thrones become synonymous with the fall of the “great society” and anyone bearing it or the elvin rings of life representing it became a target of aggression. Not only hatred by the drow but by most elves of the Cormanthor who have grown resentful of the elves that have left behind their sacred duty to protect the forest and its Elvin treasures. The Winafenestra family felt it the hardest as elder members had been the ones that lobbied to move some of the greatest treasures to a secret temple outside of the Cormanthor. Treasures of power might have protected the elves from House Jaelre, namely the Rings of Fallen Heroes. Today the gemstone clan and the Winafenestra family are little more than a footnote, clinging to their lands and hoping the elves finally return knowing they cant hold out against the drow incursion much longer.
 	A very young Zoe quickly found herself escaping her collapsing elvin home in the arms of human harpers with only the clothes on her back and the Ring of Winafenestra upon her finger. Zoe vaguely remembered the name Falconhand and a pretty face but little more in the confused panic of the battles aftermath. The Falconhand woman told Zoe “Don’t worry my child, the fates have seen this day coming for a century but know that they have also told of great leader who will one day return to right the wrongs of this day and restore balance to the forest.”  Zoe made a promise to herself to be strong enough so when that leader came she would be able to fight at their side she clenched her fingers around the wooden ring that marked her heritage unfortunately it was a memory she would loose and only regain after her death and removal from the line of kings. 
Zoe was portaled to the city of Saerloan in Simbia and hidden in the faerie quarter until the bards could figure out what to do with her and find what the fates though her future might hold. She and some other Elvin escapees used the city of the mainland hoping to recoup.  Human society rejected her as well, to busy were they licking their own wounds from the Daleland battles and broken peace. The only place she found comfort was a nearby temple of Mystra where she met an old priest named Morzike who took time to talk with her and even protect her from local riff raff. Zoe quickly warmed to Marzike and found she admiring many of his human qualities. Quick action, caring for all, rich, poor, human, elf it made no difference, the more needy the more he and the temple seemed to care. Local nobility even respected him and gave donations to keep the temple going. When Zoe pressed him he claimed it was his duty as a priest of Mystra but also proclaimed his daughter had been raised as E’lundar. So Zoe carried on living in Saerloan and following Marzike around. The bards by now had moved off to another emergency leaving the elves in the care of their city brethren. Within 2 years the elves had quickly begun moving from the city as rumors that agents of the Jaelre family and the Dragon cult were roaming the city looking for elves. One day Zoe found herself squeezing through a crowd outside Marzike’s temple, what she saw when she broke through changed her life forever. Standing upon the steps of the temple was the most beautiful human woman Zoe had ever seen. Golden hair, blue eyes, armor that glowed of greatness, a cloak of azure sewn with the symbols of Mystra, and finally a sword that glowed in Zoe’s eye’s like the sun. She was Merrin Tarwell Elundar, Marzike’s daughter. Zoe followed her relentlessly for the next week, watched as both lords and peasants bowed to her and watched the kindness she returned to them, it was the best time of her life after leaving Cormanthor.
Those weeks ended suddenly when a fireball engulfed the Elvin hostel where she was staying. She was returning from the temple and she saw figures running past her just before the explosion. By the time she reached the hostile everything was gone, only death and rubble remained. Zoe sprinted back to the temple only to find it empty except for the dead body of her best friend Marzike. Racked with pain and anger Zoe stumbled to the side entrance only to hear voices outside. 
“We must find the blooded one. Only she can break down the Mythals that guard the Myth Drannor portal to the Gemstone temple!” 
“ I know Darmor everyone said she was always with the old man, I asked them all before I torched the place.”
 “ Well keep looking dammit we must retrieve the Staff of the Everlasting Dragon, I’m going to check out the temple one more time, be sure we never see that E’lundar bitch again.”
 “ It is done sir.” 
Terrified Zoe ran and ran and ran until she passed out exhausted in a trash heap. A month later Zoe was begging on the streets, eating mice and worse. She was too afraid to talk to anyone and everyone she knew was dead or missing. She saw men prowling the streets at night with a symbol of burning eyes over a claw carved in pendant they wore. She prayed that Ela or Merrin would come to save her and bring her back to the life she knew. She prayed to Mystra for answers and for help. She dreamt of the forest and trees, of a giant tree with leaves of gold. The more time that passed the dimmer that dream grew. Zoe herd half elf rumors whispering that Ela destroyed herself with her own wild magic and that the Winafenestra throne was dead, but Zoe believed that Ela escaped and has been hiding in Myth Drannor to avoid the wrath of the drow and protect the last of the Elvin secrets. But things for Zoe were only growing worse.
Finally, on the third winter of her beggar’s life things took a turn toward disaster. Zoe was raped and beaten by a group of street tuffs and left in a garbage pile for dead, the only thing not taken from her was the Ring of Winafenestra, which she had swallowed. She vaguely remembers a man with a sulphur smell and a reddish scaly tint picking her from the trash saying, “We may be power hungry evil bastards but that doesn’t mean we want to be dead ones. Should I eat you and risk the curse or…no I have a great idea!” Zoe passed out again in fear.
 She recovered in a monastery of the Bright Sword deep in the woods where she stayed for the next ten years relearning about Mystra (for she had no memories of before the red man spoke to her) and the new gods, it turned out the Bright Swords were the Male counterparts to the E’lundar (whoever they were) but Zoe found them cold and boring. She lashed out at those who took a hand in raising her, releasing the anger and hatred that had built from years of not knowing who she was. The ring she passed two days after arriving at the temple was her only link to the past and the name in it was carved Zoe Winafenestra. The monks finally had enough of her hostile attitude. The monks brought her to Mystra, since it seemed the only thing that interested her. The E’lundar took her in as a maid where she spent the next 20 years scrubbing pots and pans and cleaning floors hopping to become an acolyte (the fist step in training) She was viewed as too wild and angry to become a knight. On the day marking her 20th year Zoe almost gave up on Mystra, she packed her things and left the temple hoping to find work in the city of Yhaunn. Along the way she applied her 20 years of second hand healing knowledge and first hand cleaning to pay for food and shelter, many times never sleeping. By the time she reached the outskirts of the city she had become so bitter that old angers were beginning to surface. A local thief on the verge of taking advantage of lone traveler found Zoe’s wrath instead. A week later An E’lundar showed up at the inn Zoe worked at to request Zoe becomes her Acolyte. The rest as they say is history 
Zoe Winafenestra E’lundar has just completed training and is eager to prove her worthiness to Mystra. Her whole life has led to this point and although she would be content administering to the poor she longs for a quest to prove her strength and bravery. Although the last warning she received from the temple was to keep her anger in check and never to let her feelings control her actions.


*PHYSICAL APPEARANCE: Zoe Winafenestra E’Lundar* 


All elves hold beauty sacred. They surround themselves with it, housed in living cities crafted over centuries, in forests unmarred by the hands of men, and most importantly they treasure it in their people. That is why almost an eon ago the last two families of Cormanthor’s Gemstone Clan joined. The first family was Winstar, House of the Sapphire, holding above all else, beauty of the spirit and the sky. Silver tresses and brilliantly colored eyes distinguished this clan. The second family was Finestria, House of the Emerald, who held the beauty of nature above all. Their people were often referred to as the epitome of elven beauty and were usually smaller than their brethren due, perhaps, to some ancient fey blood. From these two noble bloodlines the House of Winafenestra was born. The elves wished to unify their dwindling lands and people and hoped that the bloodlines of two royal families would produce heirs to carry the elves from the darkness they foresaw. Zoe is one of the last born to the Winafenestra family and perhaps one of the most striking. Zoe’s slender frame stands 5'4" tall and moves with the inherent grace and agility of a dancer. Thick white silver tresses frame a slim oval face, many times falling forward to hide one of her more remarkable features.  Zoe’s bright cornflower eyes sparkle like sapphires in starlight, they have the power to warm the coldest heart or disarm an angry greeter. Her complexion is lightly tanned and pale freckles dance across high cheeks and a small rounded nose. Zoe’s small pointed ears are usually concealed within her hair and they, like the rest of her, are unadorned. Plainly spoken, Zoe’s beauty is based simply in the purity and elegance of nature’s form. Her attire is usually sturdy unadorned wool, leather, and cotton dyed to nature’s greens, grays, and browns. She always wears a cloak of midnight blue with an oversized hood, stitched in silver thread over the left breast of the cloak is a symbol of Mystra. Finally, slung over her right shoulder is the E’Lundar Blade sheathed in a simple leather case the hilt of this sword is usually wrapped in a soft cloth tied with silver string. Zoe greets everyone she meets with a warm affectionate smile that lets all know that her beauty extends far below the skin.


*CLASS:THE E’LUNDAR* 

Description


The E'lundar are a small but powerful order of priestly knights who wield the power of Mystra for good through sword and spell. Their mandate is as follows

We, the E’lundar seek only truth,
wield brightness where darkness reigns.
We enlighten the lost, protect the innocent,
Banish evils tyranny and destroy its corruption.
We shall never turn our backs
to those in need of protection from the shadow
no matter their station
no matter the cost to ourselves
To Mystra we do pledge.

To achieve these goals the E’Lundar travel far and wide seeking lost artefacts and intervening to protect the weak and innocent from tyranny’s domain. E’Lundar come from many magical backgrounds and are trained at the remote fortress Hammerguard to weave the power of their existing magical training with the arts of warfare and the power of faith. 

The Council of Five is the guiding force behind this select group of warriors. The current aim of the council is the collection and eventual destruction of evil artefacts. The council is composed of four elected senior E'lundar who hold the post for life and one of Mystra's chosen. The seat filled by Mystra's chosen is always in flux and not an appointed position as the location and availability of the chosen of Mystra is always in question. The council determines the course E'lundar will pursue to shape the magic forces of the realms and combat evil. They assign individual knights on quests that go beyond the mandate of the order to see their plans come to fruition.

Requirements:  Alignment: Any good non neutral 
                           Feats: Weapon Focus (bladed weapon)
			 Combat Casting
		   Skills-5 ranks each: Knowledge (Religion)
		                                   Knowledge (Arcana) 
				           Spellcraft
		   BAB: +4
		   Spells:Must be able to cast Devine spells                                     2nd level or higher
		   Other: Must uphold the oath of the E’Lundar


Hit Die: d8


Class Skills:

Skill points at each level: 2+Int modifier. The E’lundar’s class skills (and the key abilities for each skill) are:
·	Diplomacy 
·	Balance 
·	Concentration 
·	Sense Motive
·	Heal 
·	Speak Language
·	Intuit Direction
·	Knowledge 
·	Spellcraft
·	Intimidation
·	Ride


Class Features

·	Weapon and Armour Proficiency:
An E’Lundar fights with only simple or chosen weapons. E’Lundar must forfeit any future use of armour for they believe it interferes with the pure essence of the magic they wield. Wearing armour of any kind will interfere with an E’lundar’s magical abilities thusly negating them.

·	The Vow of the E’Lundar
Upon swearing the vow of the E’Lundar the inducted must surrender all monetary possessions to the church and resend any known claim they have to future wealth or position. In addition an E’Lundar may never own any artefact and must attempt to deliver any found to an appropriate temple or to Hammerguard depending on its nature. Treasure given to an E’Lundar as reward or simply found is given to those in need or to cover costs incurred during a quest. In most cases E’Lundar simply do not accept payment. Simply stated the E’Lundar must live up to the vow or be brought before the tribunal.

·	Blade Of  Mystra
At first level all E’Lundar are gifted with a masterwork blade of choice, which is then dedicated in a week of prayer and fasting by the E’Lundar. This is the holy symbol of the class and functions as a masterwork silver weapon. Without this an E’Lundar is stripped of all class bonuses and may only resort to using simple weapons. This blade may be replaced if lost at cost to the E’Lundar (a very difficult process due to the vows). Or replaced by a blade the E’Lundar finds or is gifted. Any new blade must be dedicated or it is not considered to fill the Blade of Mystra requirements.

·	Arcane Spell Slot:
In addition to progressing in a chosen class of a divine spell caster an E’lundar may set aside one spell slot for an arcane spell every even level. This slot must be selected from a single school of arcane magic chosen as a first level E’Lundar. All spells and bonuses are based on the E’lundar’s overall caster level and based on Wisdom. This is a supernatural ability.


·	Armour of Faith:
E’Lundar receive Charisma bonus to armour class at first level. This armour class benefit only applies to Evil opponents or beings interfering with the E’lundar’s primary missions (see above text for descriptions). This is a supernatural ability and considered a divine bonus to Armour Class.

·	Mystra’s Aura
Starting at 2nd Level E’Lundar can detect magic once per day as a spell like ability. Every two levels thereafter allow an E’lundar one more aura per day. This is a spell like ability.


·	Smite Evil:
Once per day, an E’Lundar of third level or higher may attempt to smite evil with one normal melee attack. She adds her Charisma modifier (if positive) to the E‘lundar’s attack roll and deals 1 extra point of damage per level. If the E’lundar accidentally smites a creature that is not evil, the smite has no effect but it is still used up for that day. Smite evil is a supernatural ability. This smite ability stacks with any pre-existing ability but does not allow a second smite per day.



The stronghold of the Elundar (Hammerguard) is located north of the city of Tsurlagul in the Gray Forst in the Vast region. Out of the way yet close to the gateway to the east....and again fits in with Zoes past


·	The Ranks 

Knight of the Circle
Only 4-elected by the knights of the realm when a seat is vacated
Their mission is to guide the path of the order during there time in the Circle.

Quirinwin Relhaswiun E'Lundar, Mother of Spells (Pr 7/Wiz 7/El 7) Sun Elf
Dor Brightedge E'Lundar, Father of Swords (Pal 10/El 10) mountain dwarf
Rinlin Surefoot, Master Guide (Ranger 7/Fighter 4/Rogue 5/E’Lundar 5) Ghostwise Halfling
Erowinia E'Lundar, Grandmother Keeper of the Archive (Cleric 17/El 9) Moon Elf

E'Lundar Knight of the Realms

Those elevated to the order though desire, demonstration of ability, leadership, and most importantly character. Candidates for knighthood are put forth by existing Knights of the Order or mandates from the council. Then a vote of the council is held to weigh the worthiness of the candidate. Only knights have access to the vaults of Hammerguard where magic treasures from earlier quests are kept should their need arise.


E’Lundar Chosen of the Realms

Those who are chosen directly by Mystra.  That person may receive a vision directly or an existing member of the order is given the vision of a future Chosen. There is no vote held and usually these individuals are picked for specific tasks. They may also become knights but must pass the vote as any other.

E'Lundar Defender of the Realms

Those selected and trained early in life. An Acolyte usually receives this title upon completion of training. Some become Knights or Chosen direcly but most receive and retain this title for life.

Acolyte of the E’Lundar Order

Someone who has devoted themselves to the beliefs of the E’Lundar but is not one by completion of training or other means. 

Knight of Mystra/Fallen of Mystra

An E'lundar of any station who has been "discharged" from the order. Being dubbed a Knight or Fallen is determined by a vote of at least 11 E’Lundar Knights who vote on a recommendation which is then passed to the council for final vote. Fallen's swords are taken and they are branded on the forehead as a symbol of failure or betrayal to the oath they are stripped of all spell bonuses and special abilities gained as an E’Lundar. Knights loose their abilities and become fighters but retain their sword which become unblessed they also retain any spell advancement received as an E’Lundar. Direct intervention from Mystra has not been unheard of in this matter.


·	The Vow to Mystra

Without exception all E’Lundar must take the following vows to qualify to take the class


Mystra hear me and know I pledge my service for this lifetime

I surrender all possessions and the need for them, with faith I carry the greatest treasure of all and one which can never be taken from me.

I forfeit all armor for faith is now my shield.

I forfeit my sight so that I might see through Mystra’s eyes and gleen the truth behind all things through the windows of the soul

I surrender my body as a vessel to Mystra so that she might weild its strength against her enemies.

I surrender my mind so that it might be open to all things great and small

I give my heart and love knowing that Mystra will never betray or lead me from my chosen path.

I do hereby swear my life to the service of Mystra.

An E’Lundar walks the fine line of pride and humility and refrain from any romantic involvement, as they believe it would tear them from their duty to all the people of Faerun and to Mystra thus breaking their vows. If for any reason an E’lundar should fall from the path of righteousness or break the vows they have sworn they become stripped of all class features and left with a red tattoo of Mystra emblazoned by the E’lundar high priests to their forehead as a symbol of betrayal becoming fallen or simply removed from the ranks of E’lundar becoming knights (see above).



·	Garb

The garments are usually of dark grey or black doeskin with silver stitching with deep blue and red dyed cloth of the highest quality. The one mark of distinction that all E’Lundar garb has is a large silver seal of Mystra sewn into the left shoulder of their cloak and in the same location on their shirt beneath


----------



## Goddess FallenAngel

Kai Lord,

First off, thanks for setting this up! I love the idea and chance, especially since I have no skill at drawing and I'm never going to find a picture I can use for my character, so I'd pretty much resigned myself to never having a portrait of her. So, this chance to have one drawn is wonderful!

But, my question is:

I have noticed a lot of people posting character backgrounds. While I don't mind this, as it is fun to read, I would like to know if you and Todd will be taking them into account when you choose the final 20. I don't wish to post my character's background unless it is going to be taken into account for the contest (because she is still being played in our game and I don't wish the other players to stumble across certain information by accident), or if the contest is on physical and personality descriptions only. Please reply so we can all know for future reference!

Thanks!
Goddess FallenAngel


----------



## Arravis

As an artist myself (well, sort of... I don't do drawings of people, character's etc; I'm a graphic designer) I assume a bit of background and personality, especially, is important. A character portrait is more then an exacting drawing of a physcical description. What makes one stand out and gives its true value is how well it can captures the personality and style of the character portrayed. I'd rather see a somewhat inaccurate (physically) drawing of my character that shows his personality rather then one that shows an accurate rendition and lacks any spirit. So for that reason, I'd personally say that it is important to have just a small bit of personality and context to the character description. I wouldn't include a dissertation on it though, just something to capture the spirit (shorter the better, probably ).


----------



## Kai Lord

Goddess FallenAngel said:
			
		

> *But, my question is:
> 
> I have noticed a lot of people posting character backgrounds. While I don't mind this, as it is fun to read, I would like to know if you and Todd will be taking them into account when you choose the final 20. I don't wish to post my character's background unless it is going to be taken into account for the contest (because she is still being played in our game and I don't wish the other players to stumble across certain information by accident), or if the contest is on physical and personality descriptions only. Please reply so we can all know for future reference!
> 
> Thanks!
> Goddess FallenAngel *



First off, welcome to the boards!  Glad to see all the new "faces" on this thread.  To answer your question, no, character backgrounds aren't necessary.  However, I am reading each and every one and will reread them all when its closer to the time to make the final decisions.

The main judging point is the look of the character, but anything else that catches my eye or just makes me think, "yeah let's give this guy or girl a shot" will be taken into consideration.

If it comes down to two cool looking characters of a similar type, and one of them is just a collection of stats and the other has a lot of extra characterization, background, and reason they love their character, I would be more likely to choose the latter, since part of this thread is just a celebration of your favorite characters and part of the reason we play the game.

Unlike the WOTC Setting Search, there are no rules for how to present your entry, just post away and have fun!


----------



## Darth Shoju

*character*

This is awesome. Kai Lord you are the best. 

K so here are the basic stats on my character: 

*Haldiir Kaldeskyre*
Human Male, Chaotic Good
Barbarian 5, Fighter 5
STR 18 DEX 16 CON 20 INT 10 WIS 12 CHA 08
HP 116 AC 18 SPD 40 ft

Haldiir's full character sheet can be seen at:
http://www.fggs.org/campaigns/greyhawk/csheetview.php?id=14

_Physical Description_

Haldiir stands 6'3" in height and weighs about 220 lbs. He is 24 years old. His hair is black, although he keeps it cut to about half an inch to avoid having it used against him in fights. His eyes are ice blue. His physique is that of a life dedicated to combat and manual labour; well-muscled but not overly bulky, built for strength and durability. He has a wardog tatoo on his left shoulder, basically a black death's head with dog ears. A jagged scar runs from beside his left eye down to his jawline, a memento from a fight with a skeleton. His nose has been broken several times, a feature that has done little to improve his grim features. 

Haldiir wears a chain shirt for armour, accompanied by an open-faced helm with a nose guard. The helm features two large black horns mounted on the sides that curve down to stand out 4-6 inches from his face. He will not say what creature the horns came from, but he insists that it was "not very pleasant.". His primary weapon is a keen greatsword +1, a sturdy though nameless weapon given to him by his former master. He also carries a heavy mace and a mighty composite longbow. His clothes are simple but sturdy traveling gear. Being a rather superstitious man, he wears a black feather around his neck that he waves at anything he feels is bad luck or evil. Most people assume that it is a raven or crow feather, but if asked Haldiir will explain it is actually a chicken feather. When pressed as to the effectiveness of a chicken feather in warding off evil or foul luck, Haldiir simply shrugs and says: "It was a _black chicken_. It tasted good. That seems lucky somehow." 

Haldiir wears a ring on each hand. On his right hand is a _Ring of Protection +1_ which is just a simple bronze ring. On his left hand is a silver ring set with a triangular azure gemstone. This is a ring that bestows the protection against mind-control and possesion of the _Protection From Evil_ spell, although only on effects/spells produced by evil creatures. He wears an _Amulet of Natural Armour +1_ around his neck, a bone disk carved in the shape of a turtle shell. Haldiir also wears a plain brown traveling cloak which is actually a _Cloak of Resistance +1_.  

_Background_

Haldiir was born in the Barrens to a clan of Rovers called Clan Ice Wolf. In accordance with the harsh life lead by his people, he was taught how to survive from the time he took his first steps. He fought bravely in the Greyhawk wars and was made a wardog thereafter, as much for the fact he survived as for his fighting prowess. A couple years later, his village was wiped out by a horde of fiends and humanoids from the lands of Iuz. His survival was miraculous and was mostly due to his powerful constitution. He wandered for weeks afterward in a state of near-madness, living in the forests as little more than an animal. Eventually he made his way back to his village to see it's deceased residents being raised as undead by a priest of Iuz. In a rage, Haldiir drove through the hordes of undead and killed the priest before being overwhelmed. 

Haldiir was found and rescued by a traveling company of rangers. The company left him in the care of a hermit swordmaster. Haldiir was a very reluctant student, but eventually the old master taught him some hard lessons on swordsmanship and learning to focus his rage in battle. After a year of study, Haldiir left his master behind, determined to find the ranger company that saved his life and repay to them his lifedebt. Unfortunately he never found them, but discovered that they had been wiped out in an ambush, save for their youngest member. Following news of the young man's travels, Haldiir soon made his way south, looking to repay the debt of his life.

_Personality_

Haldiir was bred for war and survival and has become rather good at both. When in the company of friends he is most often a jovial companion, but he is also prone to great bouts of melancholy. He shares the often nihilistic philosophy of the Rovers, a paradox that seems to combine a constant struggle for survival with a desire to end it in a grand gesture of futility. However, his love of life is great and in general he would rather die doing something useful than pointless. 

Being from the Barrens, Haldiir's understanding of etiquette is rather limited. He has great respect for straight-forward, hard-working people (usually commoners or middle-class). He has a secret interest in the intricacies of political maneuvering, but finds that although he understands them, his charismatic shortcomings prevent him from engaging in such maneuvers. As a result he tends to greet politicians and their plotting with his typical gruff demeanor and a curt reply. His lack of manners is not due to any type of malice on his part, rather a simple ignorance of the customs of "civilized" lands. However, when others point out his breaches of social mores he is rarely in a mood to appologize. 

Haldiir loves drinking and singing, although his love of the former tends to get him in the most trouble. He also revels in a good fist-fight and is far more likely start one while drunk. His mood swings are also heightened while inebriated, and he usually progresses quickly from happiness to depression. 

Ultimately Haldiir is a very loyal companion, and is willing to die for those he respects. He is a born warrior and is quick to defend the innocent and his friends and allies. He is wary of politicians and nobility and shows no patience for their dealings (despite his respect for the challenging intricacy of political intrigue). He is nearly fearless, and will only back down from a fight if faced with overwhelming odds and his retreat will not result in the deaths of innocents or allies. He dispatches the undead at any opportunity, although more out of a sense of duty to their souls than any hatred. He has a healthy respect for the danger of fiends and will avoid them unless there is no choice. 

"I am Haldiir Kaldeskyre. I was born to Clan Ice Wolf. I am a Rover. I am a Wardog. I am the Raging Wind of the North. I have fought fiends, madmen and the walking dead. I was sent by your gods to punish your weakness. I am Haldiir Kaldeskyre, Wardog. I am the last thing you will ever see." -A quote attributed to Haldiir from the Elf Skull Inn, moments before he brutally murdered a tough-talking barstool. 


Thanks!!


----------



## Arravis

So Kai Lord, you're going to leave us in suspense of who are the top "10" or "20" until August? That's alot of anticipation .


----------



## Kai Lord

Arravis said:
			
		

> *So Kai Lord, you're going to leave us in suspense of who are the top "10" or "20" until August?*




That's the plan.  I myself won't know who the top 10 are until August since the final decisions won't be made until then.  



			
				Arravis said:
			
		

> *That's alot of anticipation . *



I imagine the suspense will simmer as the weeks go by, but I'll bump the thread each month until the end of July when I start choosing the finalists.  This gives everyone plenty of time to create and play new characters they might want to enter.


----------



## Arravis

Damn... I have enough competition as it is! .

Actualy, I've had alot of fun reading all the descriptions and bio's and I'm thinking of including a few of those characters as NPC's in some of my games


----------



## Erebus Red

*Character*

Character: Fay
Race: Elf
Location: Forgotten Realms

Apparence: Fay is the rose of the forest, with long golden hair and the face of an angel.  Born of a long noble line her expressions, gestures and posture always suggests great grace and regality.

Clothes and Equipment: Dressed in the finest Elven chain-mail and the sacred medallion that is a family heirloom.  But in contrast to the beauty of her attire and appearence, Fay's weapons are incredibly harsh and crude.  Her long sword has a cruel cerated edge and her arrows are barbed.

Character traits: Noble, Vain, Protective, Brutal

Brief History: Claiming her birthright as a special 'protector' of the Elven community, Fay set about the work of her ancestors defending her homeland with three equally honoured companions.  However, a life of noble privilage had not prepared Fay for the harshness of life as a warrior and gradually she became more and more a mirror of the evil powers she fought against.


----------



## Knightfall

*My fourth submission!*

Ok, I don't have character stats for this one so I'll have to just let my writing speak for itself.  This character is from the same world as my Spears character.  However, while Spears is the wild, unkempt sort who has never been comfortable in a city environment, Uhtmar is a character that adapted well to the civilized way of life.

*Uhtmar Umal-Arak, Son of Retinsal of Biacc*
_The Warrior of Delvir Shrine, Steam Knight of Da’aphet_

Uhtmar is a large minotaur that was born on the island of Biacc.  His life started out as a savage one and he spent several years living and fighting for the savage hordes of the Sermath'kah.  Eventually Uhtmar was captured and made a slave by the dispictable steam knight, Sir Winston Treblet.

But as you will read, Uhtmar's destiny would not be as a slave, but as a hero...

*Warning:* This is a little long but posting only part of the story takes away from the character's overall history and background.  Plus it's a cool story.  

*Horns of Honor*
_By Robert Blezard_

“Mother,” Sanin sat down next to his Regent Mother on one of the window seats of the Great Bay Window of Palace Hall.  “Tell me about the Warrior of Delvir Shrine.”

Lady Jenna Kel, Queen of Da’aphet, startled at her son’s words, dropping her book on alchemy.  She looked into his eager questioning eyes with some reservation about what she should tell him.  It had been so long ago.

 “What exactly is it that you want to know about it that you can’t learn from your tutors?”

“Books don’t tell you about a person’s soul, mother.”  Sanin was only eight years old but he would tower over his mother once he reached adolescence.  “What was he like?”

“He was one of the warrior caste and a servant of Da’aphet.  What else do you need to know?”

“Mother,” Sanin put his hand on hers.  “He saved your life.  Are you telling me he didn’t mean anything to you?”

She sighed in resignation.  She’d tell him the truth.  He deserved that as her son.

“Alright,” Lady Kel patted her son’s hand, staring out over the great medieval steam metropolis of Da’aphet.  “I’ll tell you.”

Sanin watched as his mother placed the alchemy book on the dialer table beside her.  She punched the correct sequence for the book and it was magically transported across the city to the Great Library of Da’aphet.  She tapped the dialer’s controls again and a new book appeared on the small table.

She picked up her personal journal, which she had placed in her own private library years ago.  The leather still smelled new thanks to the enchantments placed upon the book and the library.  She undid the three-clip clasp that bound the book together.  She opened the book and began to read out loud to her son.

*	*	*

Jenna Hallin stood on the edge of her father’s combustible carriage, the steam billowing out from underneath the noisy contraption.  She wished her father would get rid of the awful thing and travel by simple horse and buggy like her grandparents had.

Yes, steam technology had its uses but this awful thing was ruining her hair and skin.  It was also humiliating, a Princess Consort forced to travel in such a common vehicle while her royal friends traveled in real luxury.

But, father insisted saying that combustible carriages would replace the horse and buggy the same way combustible sky skiffs had replaced old steam balloons.  She could see the similarities but wouldn’t accept it.  When she was queen…

”Jenna,” her father climbed up into the carriage on the driver’s side, put his foot on the brake and pulled several of the levers in front of him, which pitched the carriages combustible engine into life.  “Please sit down, you’re making a scene!”

“Oh father,” Jenna smoothed out her petticoat sitting ladylike in her seat.  The hard silicon wood was horribly uncomfortable.  “Don’t be such a old fussy.”

“Now, now child,” Victor Hallin looked at his daughter, his spectacles balanced precariously on his nose.  “It is not wise to appear undignified or be such a baby.  Remember, I’m still your father, Princess Consort or not!”

Her father lifted his foot of the steamer’s brake and the carriage bucked forward like a wounded beetle walker.  The carriage rolled slowly and bumpily over the cobblestone below.  Townsfolk cleared the way as the carriage approached and shouted curses as it speed on past leaving the air smelly and hot.

“I’m sorry father,” Jenna bit her lip flapping at the steam billowing around her face.  “It’s just, I hate this whole arrangement.”

“You weren’t complaining last summer when Prince Kel asked you to marry him.  In fact, you were absolutely giddy.  What’s changed?”

“Oh, lots of things,” Jenna didn’t like Prince Kel the way she used to.  “Like this war he started with the southern colonies.”

“You can’t blame him for that.  They gave us no choice in the matter.  Aligning with those Sermath’kah devils from the Seas of Pillars.”

“Oh please,” Jenna sighed in disbelief.  “There’s no proof of that.”

“Open your eyes child, the southerners use dark magic on the battlefield and drink the blood of the dead.  Surely you’ve heard the stories from the front.”

“I’ve heard a lot of Prince Kel’s propaganda.  And that’s all.”  Jenna crossed her arms in defiance staring away from her father, watching the buildings fade by as her father sped up the carriage.

Victor sighed shaking his head.  He let it go.  She’d learn the truth once they reached Delvir Shrine.  The steamer lurched through the North Gate of Leahan towards the Coast of Chuol.  From there she would witness the southern battlefields through the Shrine’s seeing mirror.  She would not doubt the Shrine’s magic.

The carriage rolled more easily over the packed earth of the road then it had over the cobblestone streets of Leahan.

Ahead a column of soldiers marched along the road.  The sun shining off the reinforced steel armor and shields of the soldiers.  Victor moved the carriage over to the other side of the road passing the main part of the column.  Jenna watched the soldiers with both respect and loathing.  She didn’t like war and didn’t see the need for men to throw away their lives over land and the Prince’s politics.

They neared the front of the column and Jenna gasped at the sight she’d only ever heard of.  A large man wearing the garb of a Steam Knight sat proudly on a cyborg-horse.  His armor covered him completely, steam billowing from the combustion power pack on his back.  A steam powered warrior’s gauntlet held the cyborg-horse’s reins while a similarly designed power sword hung at his hip.

“Hello there sir knight,” her father brought the carriage up next to the man’s mount.  “Can you tell me how far it is to Delvir Shrine.”

The knight tapped his armor’s control mechanism and the top layer of his armor magically rippled back into the extradimensional space that was part of every set of steam armor.  The billow of steam that the suit’s command had issued blocked Jenna’s view of the knight for a moment.

“It is several miles still,” the steam began to dissipate.  “Do you and the lady require an escort to the shrine, dear sir.”

The steam lifted and Jenna held her breath.  He was breathtaking.  Wide shoulders, dark red hair and a dazzling smile.

“That’s very kind of you, Sir-“ Jenna’s father paused not knowing the man’s name.

“Treblet, Sir Winston Treblet as your service, my good man.”  He nodded in Jenna’s direction with a smile.  “And who might I be escorting today?”

“I am Victor Hallin and this is my daughter, Lady Jenna Hallin.”  Jenna’s father made the introduction as if addressing the Prince himself.

“The Princess Consort,” Sir Treblet bowed his head in reverence.  “I am honored to meet my future queen.”

“Thank you, Sir Treblet.”  Jenna noticed something walking on the other side of the knight’s mount, it’s head and body covered.  “What is that?”

“Oh this… this is Uhtmar, my pet.”  Sir Treblet pulled on the creature’s chain and it growled under it’s covering.  “I assure you, it is quite under my control.”

“I have no doubt,” Jenna licked her lips at the knight’s calm exterior and self-assurance.  “Where are you from?”

“I come from the southern lands,” Sir Treblet noticed Victor’s shocked expression.  “I found myself on the wrong side of the war near the beginning and pledged my power sword to Da’aphet.”

“A southerner fighting against the colonies, that’s unheard of.”  Jenna’s father was suspicious.

“So I’ve heard.”  Sir Treblet’s voice seemed far away… almost forlorn.  “War is a heavy deed that separates friends, even relatives.  My brother fights for the south.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jenna wished she could reach out to him more but her station wouldn’t allow it.  She was the Princess Consort, after all.

“It is all right,” Sir Treblet perked at her concern.  “He will see the light one day, I’m sure of it.”

“Well, you can always hope.”  Jenna’a father brought the carriage to a halt, as the road divided.  “I didn’t realize that this road spilt here.  Do you know the way, Sir Treblet?”

“Yes, the Shrine is to the west.  I will lead the way.  Come Uhtmar!”  The knight’s beast growled walking hunched over next to its master.

Jenna paid the beast no mind, her eyes fixed upon the Steam Knight, as he lead his cyborg-mount onto the west road.  Yes, steam technology had its benefits.

*	*	*

Jenna’s hair bun was a disaster by the time they reached the coast.  She removed the pins holding it in place letting her auburn hair drift in the breeze.  Her father had been appalled by her brazen display, at least that’s what he said.

“You must keep up appearances child.  After all-“

“Yes, I know!”  Jenna lost her temper.  “I am the Princess Consort!  That’s all you and I ever talk about anymore, I’m sick of it!”

Jenna eyes swelled up with tears and she bound off the carriage, running towards the coast.  Victor sighed bringing the combustible to a stop.

“Is something the matter,” Sir Treblet brought his half-mechanical steed up next to the combustible.  “Why is she so distraught?”

“It’s the same old thing, really.  She doesn’t want to marry the Prince anymore because of the war and the man’s politics and beliefs.”

“I see.”  Sir Treblet watched as the young miss ran across the grass of the cliff side.  “Well, we certainly can’t have her running off alone can we.  I will see to her with your permission, dear sir.”

“Granted,” Victor sat back in the carriage, frustrated.  “I can’t control her anymore.”

“Come Uhtmar!”  The knight’s set his horse in gallop to catch up with Jenna.  The beast ran along side using its legs and arms to help propel it.

Sir Treblet understood why she would balk at an arranged marriage.  The custom was centuries old.  However, the Prince was an important man.  His will alone drove the soldiers of the north to fight against terrible odds and the evil flooding the south from the Sea of Pillars.

“Dear lady,” He brought his mount to a halt several yards away from Jenna.  “You should not be wandering out in this region alone.  These are dangerous times.”

The beast, Uhtmar, stayed next to the knight’s mount.

She was walking with her hands over face.  She had obviously been crying.  He felt bad for her.  She didn’t love the Prince at all and would be alone in his company.

“How can I do this?” She turned towards him her face red from tears and sorrow.  “How can I marry someone I barely know.”

“It is your duty, dear lady.”  Sir Treblet shook his head with a sigh.  “You cannot back out now.  Not with the ceremony less than two months away.”

“Sir Treblet… Winston, do you find me beautiful?”

“Of course, what a silly question.  You are the most beautiful woman in the kingdom.  Otherwise the Prince would not have chose you.”

“I didn’t ask what the Prince thought, I asked you what you thought.”  Jenna rolled her eyes at the density of men.

“Yes, but it isn’t proper to speak of such things.”

“Why not,” Jenna ran up next to him holding her petticoat up high enough so that it didn’t pick up grass and dirt inside.  “Who says what is proper for the Kingdom’s next Queen?”

“The Code and the King, dear lady,” Sir Treblet was nervous with her so close.

She was such a small petit thing with eyes as blue as Lake Autumnweed in his homeland.  He liked her, he’d felt it the moment he’d met her.  But his honor as a Steam Knight held his tongue and his lust.

“Oh fudge,” Jenna turned and stalked off towards the carriage.  “The one man I've met who I really want won’t take me because of his honor and damn Code!”

“Princess Consort, you must not speak of such things,” Sir Treblet reached out grabbing a hold of her arms shaking her.  “You belong to the Prince and no one else!”

“Let go of me,” Jenna was trapped in his grip.  “You’re hurting me.”

Uhtmar growled taking two steps towards them.  The beast’s chains rattled in defiance of its cruel master.

“Do you have something to say, Uhtmar?  Or do I need to punish you again for your disobedience!”  In that moment, the handsome young man became horrid to her, as she realized what lay beneath the cloth covering the beast... no, the beast-man.

“No, master,” Uhtmar’s voice entered Jenna’s ears and she saw the knight for what he was.

“You bastard,” Jenna tried to pull away from him looking back towards her father.  “You have a slave!  That’s barbarous!  How can you chain up a sentient thing?”

Sir Treblet let her go and she fell to the ground.  He stood over her anger seething in his eyes.  He looked at Uhtmar and began laughing.

“What’s so funny?”  Jenna was sick.  How could she have liked this man?

“Uhtmar isn’t one of the Ethma'rieluna, child.  He’s a minotaur.  He was born a slave and he will die a slave.  It is his life.”

“That's no life!”  She felt like she was going to vomit.  “I will tell the Prince and you will be hung for your crime!”

“The Prince knighted me himself, with my slave at my side.”  Sir Treblet laughed cruelly.  “He wouldn’t dare think of freeing Uhtmar.  Otherwise, he’d lose one of his best knights.  There are other wars to fight on Rielun besides this one.  I don’t have to stay here.”

“You haven’t any loyalty at all.”

“Ah not true, dear lady.”  He shook his finger at her.  “I am loyal to the Prince and all the money that he pays me to fight against my kin.  War may be a nasty business, but it pays handsomely.”

“Your nothing but a mercenary in a fancy suit of armor.”  Jenna spat at him.

He wiped his chin raising his hand to hit her.  Then they heard it.  A clarion calls from across the road.  Sir Treblet spun to see nearly a dozen Sermath'kah riders pouring out of the tall grass.  Goblins and orcs every one of them.

“At last, something to kill.”  Sir Treblet mounted his horse riding off towards the enemy.  He left Jenna to fend for herself dragging Uhtmar with him.

Jenna watched in horror as the Sermath’kah overran her father’s carriage, knocking him to the ground.

“Father,” Jenna screamed running towards him.

An orc devil rider swung his mace, shattering the man’s skull before he could find his feet.  Jenna slid to a halt watching as her father died in front of her eyes.

The column of soldiers that had been traveling with them turned to face the devil riders of the Sea of Pillars.  Steamlock pistols flared and swords flashed as the soldiers met the Sermath’kah head on.  Soon Sir Treblet was among in the front his steam powered sword slicing through flesh and blood like a hot knife through soft biscuits.  His gauntlet flashed powerful elemental magic burning the riders and their steeds into charred bits that waft across the road.  Jenna became sick retching as the smell of death.  She backed away from the grisly scene, unable to believe her eyes.

Then they came.  Hundreds of southern soldiers and Sermath’kah through a magic portal overrunning the small force of northern troops.  The northern soldiers fought bravely but died horribly as steam-powered cannons ripped through their armor and flesh.

Sir Treblet sounded the retreat riding back towards Jenna scooping her up without protest.  She couldn’t move. Uhtmar ran beside his master's cyborg-horse.  As they ran the gauntlet of enemy troops along the edge of the sea cliff.

“Uhtmar, nothing must get through.  Do you understand?”  The knight sheathed his sword, pulled his pistol from his boot and shot two charging riders.

“I understand, master.”  The minotaur slave threw off his cloth coverings, pulling a great axe from a sling on his back. “Come to me dark ones and I shall show you true darkness!”

The minotaur’s horns rose three feet over his cow-like head, his limbs covered in dark black fur.  He wore nothing except his harness, as his hide was as hard as any leather armor. He roared in defiance at the oncoming horde rushing to meet them.

The Sermath’kah kept coming but the human southern soldiers bolted in fear.

“Aren’t you going to help him?”  Jenna worried the beast-man would die against so many.

“It matters not,” Sir Treblet tapped his cyborg-horse’s control keys and the half-robotic beast speed into a blinding gallop.  “He is a warrior slave, this is his duty.”

Sir Treblet fired again into an orc devil’s torso.

“He’ll die!”

“Maybe.” Sir Treblet looked back towards his minotaur slave.  “But I can always get another warrior slave.”

The knight fired again and again hitting enemy soldiers with deadly precision

“I hate you,” Jenna balled her fists punching at her vile protector.

The Steam Knight laughed, while somewhere in the distance a minotaur slave roared in pain.

*	*	*

They rode all night to the Shrine, in order to warn the cities of the north.  At least that was Sir Treblet’s goal.  Jenna just wanted to get to the Shrine and get away from the knight.  She thought of Uhtmar lying dead somewhere or worse.

The Shrine was more like a steam technology way station, standing on the top of a small hill near the coast.  It had a combustible engine at its heart, nearly six feet in diameter.  The magical energy it produced would seal the damage done to Sir Treblet’s steam armor as well as heal his body.

It could do nothing for Jenna’s heavy soul.

“Father,” Jenna crumbled at the edge of the Shrine’s entryway.

“Oh stop that,” Sir Treblet rolled his eyes at her weeping.  “At least he didn’t suffer.”

“You bastard,” Jenna buried her head in her arms.  “How can you be so damn unfeeling.”

“Well,” Sir Treblet looked at her wondering why she worried about the dead.  It didn’t make any sense to him.  But then he was from the south and northerners were different, strange people.  “To my people, death is like having a slave for the first time.  It can be painful and messy sometimes but one gets used to it eventually.”

“Uh,” Jenna turned away from him.  “You are so sick.”

“Do not judge what you do not understand, child.  Having slaves has been a tradition in my homeland for generations.”

“It’s wrong,” Jenna wasn’t even going to try and reason with him.

“In your mind because that’s all you know,” Sir Treblet walked deeper into the Shrine looking for its seeing mirror.  “Now keep an eye out, child.  They still might be out there.”

Jenna wanted to pummel the man.  He was so conceited, so sure of himself.  Jenna remembered that it was his self-confidence that had made him seem attractive in the first place.  She’d have to remember to look deeper the next time.  Look for the clues that all ‘noble’ men hide behind.

But what she hated most was that he was right.  At least, about their present situation.  If she didn’t keep watch the enemy would catch them unaware.  She stood up looking across the Plains of Shulman.  She saw only the tall grass and endless sky, which was falling to twilight.

She shivered at the thought of having to spend the night in this man’s company.

“Ah, here we are.  The mirror at last.”  Sir Treblet wiped the dust collecting on the seeing mirror.  Of course, there wasn’t any real glass in the mirror.  Just the magically mesh that would allow him to see all the way to Da’aphet and warn the Prince of the invasion.

He would do his duty, as he was paid to do.

He switched on the control rods, keying in the coordinates for the capital city and the mirror flashed an awful scene around Palace Hall.  The city was under siege.

“Damn it,” Sir Treblet pounded his fist against the mirror, destroying it.  “It looks like I’m not going to get paid!”

“What are you talking about?”  Jenna looked at the ruined mirror.  “What did you do?”

“Da’aphet is about to fall and I am without an employer.”  He looked at her his loyalty to the Prince gone with his paycheck.  “Of course, I still have you.”

“Oh no,” Jenna had never been more frightened in her life.  “You wouldn’t dare?”

“Try me,” The Steam Knight stepped toward her, an evil grin revealing his soul.  He’d take this wench then sell her in the south.  “I’m going to enjoy this.”

He grabbed her hair with his free hand laughing like a madman.  She struggled in vain to free herself.  Then a gutteral bellow sounded from behind them.

 “Ah,” Sir Treblet turned to greet his warrior slave.  “I see you’ve survived again, beast.  But please be silent why I enjoy myself.  If you’re a good cow, I’ll let you have her when I’m done.”

“I don’t think so,” Uhtmar stood with his axe in hand ready to for anything.  “Now, let her go!”

“You stupid beast,” Sir Treblet drew his power sword, encasing himself in his full armor.  “I am a Steam Knight, not some pathetic goblin or orc devil.  I’ll gut you on the first pass, slave!”

“You can try,” Uhtmar raised himself up standing nearly eight feet.  “I will not cower before a man as pathetic as you anymore!  If I die, I will die free!  And I will take you with me!”

Uhtmar roared charging his former master.

Sir Treblet raised his powered gauntlet and sent fire and lightning coursing through the minotaur’s body before the beast-man could finish his charge.  Uhtmar howled in pain, the elemental energy knocking him back and down the hill.

Sir Treblet laughed stalking down the hill to finish the minotaur off.  He’s taken only three steps before the steamlock pistol went off behind him.  The knight stopped laughing turning to see Jenna holding his boot pistol in her hands.

He died.  No one would cry for him.  The steam-propelled bullet had gone right through his skull.

Uhtmar laid unmoving on the ground.  Jenna rushed to him to see whether he was still alive.  His breathing was slow but steady.  He’d live, with rest.

A clarion call echoed across the Plains of Shulman.  Jenna looked up to see hundreds of soldiers and Sermath’kah charging towards the hill. They had been alerted by the noise coming from the Shrine.

“There’s so many of them,” Jenna looked at the pistol in her hand and then the dead knight behind her.  “This is rotten timing.”

“Indeed,” Uhtmar stood up his fur still smoking.  “I’ll need that.”

Uhtmar held out his hand waiting for Jenna to hand him the steamlock.

“I want to help,” Jenna barely came up to his hip.

“No little miss,” Uhtmar shook his great head.  “I cannot fight and worry about you at the same time.”

“There’s too many of them,” Jenna couldn’t believe how worried she was about him.  “You’ll die.”

“I’ve already been dead once today,” the great minotaur took a hold of the steamlock, which she surrendered reluctantly.  “What is one more time.”

“But…”

“No buts, little one,” he pushed her up towards the Shrine.  “Now I need you to stay inside the Shrine and lock the door.  Most likely, they won’t be able to break down the door if they get past me.  You’ll be safe in there.”

Jenna didn’t like the idea but the alternative wasn’t much better either.  She stepped around the dead Steam Knight then stopped an idea forming in her mind.

“Steam armor is magical,” she slipped out of his grasp.  “It fits itself around the wearer.  Like a second skin.  You would stand a batter chance against them with it.”

“B-but I am only a slave,” Uhtmar watched as she tried to get the armor off the dead knight.  “I am not worthy enough.”

“Saying that makes you more worthy of the honor than he ever was.”  Jenna struggled in vain to get the armor off.  “Now, do you know how to get this off him or not?”

Uhtmar turned to see the enemy nearing the base of the hill.

“Yes,” he bent down and keyed in the sequence his dead master had taught him to help take off the armor.  The armor hissed and squealed as it retracted fully into its extradimensional pocket plane.

Jenna was shocked to see that it was no larger than her feather pillow at home and nearly as light.

“Now put it on,” Jenna gave the magical armor to Uhtmar.

He hesitated.

“What’s wrong,” Jenna was beginning to become annoyed.

“I’m not a Steam Knight,” Uhtmar turned over the armor, which looked like a big nap sack.  “I don’t know how to work this.”

“Oh come on, you’ve seen him use it all the time.  I’m sure you’ll be a natural.  Believe in yourself.”

“I have been raised to be nothing more than a slave.”  Uhtmar put the armor on and powered up the suit.  “But you, you I believe in.  Stand back!”

Uhtmar punched in the last command and the suit exploded to envelop him in metal and steam.  It bound to his soul.  Shimmering gold and red in the setting sun of the World of Rielun.  He roared and the armor responded, molding to his head and jaw.  Instead of a steam-powered sword, a great steam chain-axe formed in his right hand.  Instead of a powered gauntlet, a steam cannon formed around his left.  The armor shuddered as it wrapped around his torso and his legs.  A great metal helm molded itself to his horns, shining in the fading twilight like a beacon across the hill.

He roared again and the enemy soldiers shuddered in fear.  Their commanders kept them moving forward, the fear of their masters greater than the minotaur in front of them.

“Go into the Shrine, little one.”  He spoke with confidence but not like Sir Treblet had.  “I will handle this.”

“Be careful,” Jenna knew she’d be no help to him outside the Shrine.  He’d simply worry too much about her and not the enemy in front of him.

She ran into the Shrine keying in the locking sequence, which the wall displayed next to the pad.  The door hissed shut and the steam engine came to life providing a magical boon that would secure the Shrine against physical or magical harm.  The power of the Shrine emanated out across the hill finding Uhtmar’s power source, adding to it.  Soon the armor shone of its own accord and magical energy filled the weapons to capacity.

Uhtmar had never felt the touch of a God before but somehow he knew that Jaua Ae-rielun, the Heart of the World, was with him now.  They would not take the Shrine.  He believed in himself... for Jenna.

He stepped out on the edge of the hilltop and roared again in defiance of those that would destroy the Balance and harm the innocent.

“I am Uhtmar Umal-Arak, son of Retinsal of Biacc!  Here me dark warriors, I have been a slave, I have been a coward, but today I am reborn!  Today I am Uhtmar of Da’aphet, Steam Knight, Warrior of Delvir Shrine, protector of the Royal Throne, champion of Lady Jenna Hallin… my Queen, my heart, my friend!  None of you shall pass on this day, I swear it to the Heart of the World.”

Uhtmar roared charging down the hill towards the approaching horde.  Jenna had never prayed to Heart of the World before but on that night she prayed for her friend.

*	*	*

“Uhtmar charged into the darkness, fighting dozens of southern soldiers and the Sermath'kah all through the night.  He did not rest, he did not sleep and he did not eat.  He fought and fought and just when I thought he’d been killed he’d come out of the darkness again to defend the Shrine and my life.  Some believe he died a dozen times that night but that the Heart of the World brought him back time and time again until the dawn rose and none were left standing but he.”

“Mother, I’ve heard a different legend that it was your love and friendship that kept him alive.” Sanin smiled at his mother.

“Well, one shouldn’t believe false legends, my son.  I am only a Queen and the Heart of the World is a God.  What makes more sense?”

“True but it’s a better story.”  Sanin watched as his mother turned red as the sun was setting outside the great Bay Window of Palace Hall.

“Anyway, Uhtmar brought me to Da’aphet and was pivotal in freeing the city from the clutches of the Sermath'kah.  He founded a new order of Steam Knights that didn’t exclude any race, regardless of their original homeland.  He stood by the side of the Throne for years protecting your father and I.”

“But what happened to him?  His Horned helm hangs in the Halls of Honor but it doesn’t say how he died?”

The queen closed her journal staring out into the twilight, wondering what to tell him.

“I-I don’t know what happened to him.  One day he simply vanished and his helm appeared in the Hall of Honor.”

“So he could still be alive.  I’d like to meet him.”

“I’d like you to meet him too, my son.  I’d like that very much.  But I don’t think it’s possible.  No, the Warrior of Delvir Shrine is gone.  Most believe he is with the Heart of the World now, a part of him.  Others believe he left for the stars to take the his teachings to others of his kind across the ethereal sky.”

“What do you believe, mother?”

“I-I believe he is still here.  That his body has died but that his spirit lives on protecting those in need.  Watching over us, defending us w-with his horns of honor.”  Lady Jenna Kel, Queen of Da’aphet sighed trying not to cry.  He wouldn’t want that.  He’d want his little miss to be strong.

Sanin watched his mother holding her hand as the sun set.  His eager mind had another question though.

“Mother, can you tell me how he single handedly defended the city during the Fourth War?”

“I think that a story for another time, my son.”  Lady Kel laughed holding her son close to her, tears running down her face.  “Another time.”


----------



## KingOfChaos

Wow..a lot of FR characters


----------



## Angcuru

KingOfChaos said:
			
		

> *Wow..a lot of FR characters  *




That's because the Forgotten Realms RULE!


----------



## Enkhidu

Kai Lord, if you hadn't figured it out by now, this is the Best. Contest. Evar.

Thanks loads for giving ENWorlders an opportunity some of them wouldn't otherwise have. You, my friend, are one of the best.


----------



## DungeonKeeperUK

"MUK!.... Muk Smash"

hmmm maybe you need a little more than that...

*MUK*
Dwarven Frenzied Berserker.

*Wears*
Rhino Hide armour (even in them warm warm deserts, personal hygine is a myth to Muk)
Pot Helm with a dragon tooth firmly placed in the centre.

*Weilds*
Dwarven Waraxe (Thundering), weilded two handed

*Style & Panache*
Muk has quite gaudy ginger hair and beard, a full beard in plats, tattoos cover his arms and look of constant bewilderment covers his trail worn face.  For Muk has no idea of his background.
Doors are a foe unto Muk, the party have learned not too leave Muk alone too near a door that is "just askin' for it"

*Noteable Achievements*


Becoming Immortal....... or so he thinks, Muk has no concept of gods and all that stuff, yet he finds himself coming back to life, as such death does not hold too great a fear to him and is willing to try any... and not just once either...
Paying good money in the brothels around town just to watch the ladies of the night..... eat.....
Putting a helm of underwater breathing to good use, by lying at the bottom of a barrel of ale in full armour and drinking his way out....
Takeing on 4 cyclops toe toe.... he didn't last too long, but hell it was fun.....
Trying on the magic cirlet they found since no one else would do it, only to have in intelligence raise by six, with the following days resulting in plans of great magnitude form Muk... but bad headaches, so Muk gave it up to the drooling wizard...

There we go, short n sweet


----------



## Knightfall

Angcuru said:
			
		

> *
> 
> That's because the Forgotten Realms RULE! *




Warning! Warning!  Forgotten Realms fanboy on the loose!  Someone get the net!



BTW, just I updated some major grammatical errors on my fourth submission story.

Cheers!

KF72


----------



## Lalato

KF72...  that's not a background story...  that's a novella...  

--sam


----------



## Argent Silvermage

*Bolo Brandybuck*

Hi,
This is a great idea! Thanks.
Here is my submittion. Bolo Brandybuck: Druid 16/ Verdant Lord 2.
Bolo was born a Halfling. He stood 2'8" tall and 35 lbs with long black hair tied in a ponytail and black eyes. He has tattoos of cheetah spots on his legs and wings on his back, bear claws on his shoulders and ape hands grasping his upper arms He also has an elephant head tattooed on the back of his neck and he has a "bonzia tree" tattoo in the middle of his chest.
Recently Bolo was reincarnated as a Wood Elf and stands 5'10" and 140 #s. with long wavy chestnut brown hair and moss green eyes. He has a greenish tinge to his skin.
Bolo dresses in loose fitting robes (arabian style) and carries very little in the way of weapons. he has a band of living ivy around his right wrist. He is always acompanied by Tailcatcher. A legendary dog that looks like a russet colored Akita.

Bolo is also the most gungho person in our campaign and is known for getting swallowed whole more ofter than anyone else.


----------



## Datt

*Here we go*

Name: Datt the younger, Giant Killer, of the clan Hrothgar
Race: Hill, Dwarf
Current Residence: an Ancient Dwarven settlement that had been lost for thousands of years.
Age: 65 years
Height: 4'3"
Weight: 178 lbs.
Classes: Fighter 14/ Giant Killer 2
Weapon of choice: Battleaxe

*Description:  *
Datt has flowing red hair and a long red beard with his mustache braided going down the sides of his beard.  He proudly wears a set of Dwarven Platemail.  He has a black cloak of resistance that he wears.  He also has a sash of Giant teeth that he wears that shows teeth of all the different Giant's he has personally killed.  He wields a Battle Axe in each hand.  His main axe was crafted by him and sits on a marble hilt and glows a bright red from being enchanted.  His off hand axe was just recently gifted to him by a priest of Clangedinn for saving his clan, more about this later.  He also has a Dwarven Thrower on his right hip that he uses whenever   He wears a periphat of Will saves around his neck.  He also wears a set of boots of striding and springing that are a dark brown in color.  He has a pet brown bear that he rides around on, since dwarves just look funny on horses.

*Background: *
Datt is the older of a set of twins.  His brother's name is Diss.  His father Thorgrim, named his sons partly after their great-grandfather and partly because he couldn't think of better names than Datt one and Diss one.  While Diss chose the clerical life and became a cleric of Clangedinn, Datt decided to follow Clangedinn's decree: kill Giants.  He has spent the better part of his 65 years bettering himself to kill Giants in the name of Clangedinn.  There has been more than one time while he was out adventuring that he came across and Hill Giant and killed it.  Because a Clangedinn decrees: Kill Hill Giant's on sight and evil giants whenever possible.

Of course this has also caused many problems for him.  One time he had heard news of a tribe of Giant's making themselves at home in the mountain range near where his wife's family lived.  When he went to investigate he found a pair of Stone Giants keeping guard.  They heard Datt's axe clank against his armor and we going to set an alarm off.  But before they could get far Datt was on them and dispatched them easily as they were young.  Well one of them was the grandson of a powerful Cloud Giant by the name of Smyg.  Upon hearing that Datt was the dwarf responsible he laid siege to both the clan hold of his wife, Steelhall, and his family's, Sandrock.  But the Giant's met with defeat at both locations as Dwarves are very able to defend themselves against Giants.

The victories came at a cost however.  Datt's grandfather, Datt the older leader of clan Hrothgar, fell during the fight for Sandrock.  Datt mourned for this loss but his family told him that he died fighting in battle against Giants and Clangedinn always kept a space for Dwarves like that.  This relieved him of some pain but he still held a deep anger for Smyg.

Then recently Datt had gotten a missive saying that his father in-law had fell ill mysteriously.  When he went to investigate they found a special dart that looked like it was shot out of a blow gun.  They searched the area the dart was found closer and found a bag of viles of liquid.  When the alchemists were done studying it they found it was a special toxin designed to only effect Dwarves!  This was most troubling indeed.

The priests of Clangedinn said they would try to divine who had created this potion.  But soon after that the head priest was found slain!  The weapon was found near by and it was an axe that Datt had used when he was younger as a training axe!  Someone was trying to frame Datt.  A spell was cast to see the last thing the priest saw.  It was Datt calling him into a room and then striking him with an axe!  But that wasn't possible as Datt was in the common grounds sparing when the priest died.  Everyone knew Datt wasn't the killer but the evidence didn't look good.  Later that day one of Datt's wife, Odarrill, cousin's was found dead also.  And again one of Datt's old weapons was found near the body.  At this discovery the local guards took Datt into custody as they could not afford this to happen again.  Datt refused to be taken into custody and instead just had two guards follow him around.  While he was being guarded his wife had to run to the kitchen to get some soup for her father.  On her way back with the soup she was abducted.  At this Datt new something was up and the first thing that came to mind was Smyg.  But he couldn't figure out how he was doing it.

After it was discovered that his wife had been capture the king asked for Datt to see him.  While he was in there the party's new Dwarven Cleric, Garris, cast a true seeing spell to make sure everyone was who they said they were.  When he looked around he noticed that he could also see the aura's around everybody.  When he looked at the king the king showed up with an evil aura!  Garris then leaned towards Datt and asked "Has your king always been evil?"  Datt responded "No."  Upon hearing that Garris cast a Holy Word spell to deafen the evil king.  While he was deafened Datt charged him and knocked him to the ground.  While Datt was holding him the king changed shaped into a doppelganger!  He was just laughing saying that there was nothing Datt could do as Smyg now had his wife, the king, and his parents!  This enraged Datt and he asked him where Smyg was.  The doppelganger simply stayed quite as he didn't want to give away his master's location.  So Datt simply beheaded him.

Upon searching the king's chamber for some sign of him they found a stash of old weapons and armor that was going to be used to implement Datt!  They also found a note that said the duergar were going to be attacking threw the tunnels below Steelhall.  Upon hearing this, the captain of the guard dispatched 3 units of men down to the tunnels to prepare for the attack.  Datt and his companions also went down to help out.  It was a short and brief fight with the duergar, but there was a shocking discovery, they were working with the Drow!

Luckily for Datt they found a map of where the Drow were supposed to deliver a loyalty payment to Smyg.  They somewhat recognized the location, it was a mountain to the northwest known as Lowly Mountain.  Datt was ready to rush off that way, but his party member convinced him it was better if they waited a bit to rest from the battle so the spell casters could get their spells back.  He knew that was a good sound tactic.  So after a bit of rest the party was off in the direction of Lowly Mountain.  It was a two day journey from Steelhall, and it wasn't totally uneventful.  On their second day they were ambushed from above my ogres throwing rocks while riding some kind of winged creature.  But with a couple of fly spells the party was easily able to defeat the ogres.

After this the party rogue decided to scout ahead by a few minutes to make sure there weren't any other surprises waiting for us.  He came upon a halfling that said he could tell him where Smyg was in exchange for information about a former party member. Giacartys said his ashes had been scattered across the desert in Mulhurand.  The halfling thanked him for the information and gave him a coin and a piece of paper.  He said tell Datt to say Smyg or family and the paper would become a map to the location of either.  When Datt was given the paper and coin he flip it and said Smyg.  The map showed a path leading to Lowly Mountain as well, but it led to the other side.  Datt figured one side was to a trap and the other a back door.
They chose to take the back door instead of the main entrance.  When they got to what they thought was the back door they found an empty cave.  Upon closer inspection they found a secret door leading down.  They entered the secret door and found themselves in a room.  There was a notch at the top of the ceiling shaped like the coin Datt flipped.

Upon putting the coin in the slot a 3D image was shown on in the room of another room with 2 Hill Giants, 2 Drow, and a handful of duergar.  The duergar were torturing Datt's family!  They had his wife, the king and his mother over boiling pots of acid, and his father tied to a table.  When Datt saw this he told the party wizard to teleport him there.  The party all agreed that they had to go there to try and save his family.  They teleported into the middle of the room.  When they came in the duergar dropped the chains holding his family up and one of the ones by his father used an axe he was holding to behead him!

Datt immediately moved over to the closest Hill Giant and killed him.  But he was soon beset upon by 3 duergar.  While the rest of his party handled the other giant and the Drow Datt worked on the duergar.  He was able to defeat them in time.  Garris had a flying carpet and was able to pull Oddarill out of  the vat that she was in, saving her life.  But sadly his mother and the king where not able to be saved.  After the battle they sealed the doors leading into the room with a greater sign of sealing and returned to Steelhall to lay the king to rest and to regain spells.

After a brief rest they scryed on the room to see if it was safe to return.  In the room they saw 4 Drow, 8 Hill Giants and 8 Stone Giants.  They paned out a bit with the scry and saw an empty cavern down a bit from the room and decided to land there to attack the Giants and Drow.  They moved in and Datt was quick to start attacking the Giants.  The Drow were invisible but luckily the casters came prepared and had see invisible on so that they could attack.  The party made short work of the group as the Stone Giants saw Datt kill 3 Hill Giants easily and gave up.

Just as the fight was dying down Giacartys heard someone walking up the hallway that they had just came down.  It was Smyg accompanied by two Earth Elementals and another creature.  He yelled down to Datt "You chose family instead of revenge.  So you will have to deal with it."  And he turned and walked away leaving the elementals and the other creature.  Datt yelled back at him "No, I chose you and just happen to find my family! I will kill you in due time!"  As Smyg was walking away the other creature cast Wall of Flame in the hallway covering it from wall to wall and ceiling to floor.  Luckily the party mage had a Wall of Ice prepared and quickly doused the flame.  But it cause steam to bellow back on the party.

After the steam died down the party moved down the hallway only to find the Earth Elementals and the other creature were gone.  They proceeded to the cavern where they landed and there was a Drow with a pillar behind her.  She asked Garris where she could find an item of the fallen comrade, Duran, that the halfling inquired about.  Garris asked what would he get in return of the information.  She said she would tell him which of the three paths behind her lead to Smyg.  Being new to the party Garris had never heard of Duran and so had no knowledge of him. He asked her if he answered truthfully that she would show him the correct path.  She said that she would.  So he looked at her and said, that he had never heard of him before as he was new to the party so he didn't know.

This being a truthful answer the Drow was forced to leave and show him the correct path.  Now knowing that the middle path was the one that led to Smyg the party went down that way.  After a short travel the party came to a huge room with that looked like a throne room.  In this room was the halfling sitting on a stone thrown.  The halfling asked the party where the Heart of the Mountain was, and if they tell him truthfully he would show them where Smyg was.  Datt laughed and said "The Heart is in the hands of a dead Netherese wizard 3,000 years in the past!"  The halfling looked confused and asked how if we just had it not even a year ago.  Datt told him that the wizard could go through time and had come to this time and got it from then and then went back to his own time.

The halfling could tell that Datt was telling him the truth so he then asked Datt if he would like to fight Smyg alone.  He said that he wanted his party there to route him on.  The halfling said that they could route him and on and watch but did Datt want to fight alone.  Being the proud Giant Killer he is Datt said yes.  At that the halfling turned into the Drow from below and the throne turned into the pillar.  The pillar shifted and showed Smyg standing on top of a mountain.  Datt steppe through the portal to the surprise of Smyg.

Smyg turned as he heard Datt step and said "What?!?  How did you get here! No matter I will kill you none the less!"  and the fight was on!  Datt stepped up to him and stood toe to toe with him.  Luckily for Datt the party mage had cast displacement on him and Garris had cast Fortunate Fate.  The displacement would prove to be the deciding factor in the battle.  Datt and Smyg traded blows for almost 2 straight minutes.  Datt had used the Fortunate Fate after the first minute so he knew he had to end this fight.  They were both looking tore up when Datt landed one last mighty blow to Smyg's leg.  Sending the Giant down for good.

Right after Datt had killed Smyg the earth around him started to move.  He looked around and there was a statue of a Dwarven Giant Killer in the area.  Then another statue rose right next to him.  It was of Datt!  He went over to the other statue and it spoke to him "Congratulations Datt Hrothgar.  You have defeated the enemy and now you are the Chosen One."  And with that the statue crumbled and a symbol of Clangedinn appeared on Datt's forehead.

After the fight the Drow left quickly and the party searched the throne room.  It turned out to be a hall of an ancient Dwarven city. It turns out they were beset upon by an ancient evil and the only way to save themselves was to ask for Moradin's help.  After they asked a crystal appeared.  When touched it surrounded the whole body.  They new that it would keep them safe.  So they put 90 children, 3 women, and 1 priest in stasis.  They left a book of how to revive them, it involved the breath of a mother onto their faces.  The party quickly teleported back and got Oddarill's mother to revive everyone.  The party was hailed as the saviors of the clan and Datt's family was invited to come live there so that they might protect the children until the oldest male can come of age to take his place as king.


----------



## PA

*Against the grain*

Wow. Long entries. Mine (plural) won’t look like much, in comparison. Not having played in years but occasionally during conventions, I got used to writing very short physical descriptions, easier to give to one-shot GM and players. To compensate, I’ve given special care to the wording, as for little poems. Bear with me there, and try to read them aloud:


My shortest is for Kisai, my defunct Living Greyhawk character:

Black-clad blade-thin halfling wizard.


Nearly as short, the presentation of Fireun, a Celtic bard in a semi-historical game:

Red-haired, hazel-eyed, clad in the blue of the bards.


Rowan, created for a homebrew game, never came to life:

Chestnut hair, hazel eyes, childish looks but a cryptic smile. Lost in a wide blue djellaba, he sits alone within the shadows and light of a desert tent, his legs crossed around what may be a musical instrument.


Aisumeika was not a PC, sorry, but a favorite NPC of mine (and a goddess):

Her arms crossed behind her back, she stands alone in a dream cathedral—a winter midnight forest. While she is dressed in ice and snow, her skin is just as pale, but for the most tender pink of her smile. Her face is childish and serious, her icy blue eyes shining with an invincible pride. Like a crown, twelve stars have gathered above her brow, her long hair a smooth stream of blackness.


Lydh (English & French versions):

Warrior rogue of silk and steel, here is Lydh: moody as the Moon, white his skin and keen the eyes, hair like foam upon their sea. In their depths, is it a dream? what was there no longer is—in his voice a song hidden, a firedance in his motions!

Lydh, l’amant de la lune : ses cheveux une écume au vert clair de ses yeux, sa peau toute aussi blanche et ses rires délicieux. Un rêveur, un mystique, un poète peut-être? un guerrier et un loup, un scélérat, un prêtre. Dans l’acier et la soie d’une élégance fluide, voici venir la mort—et son vrai nom est Lydh.


----------



## ColonelHardisson

I might as well toss this guy into the mix. He's actually a character I was using in a far-too-brief Lord of the Rings RPG campaign that was being run in the In Character forum. It'd be fairly easy to drop any setting-specific details, and make him a D&D character. I didn't really detail him much in a physical sense; whatever his stat block and the background I gave him evokes is fine with me.

By the way, his stat block might be of interest to anyone who wanted a bit of a peek into the LotR RPG Decipher put out.



*Lanwi*

*Race:* Man (Middle Man) Dunlending.

*Racial Abilities:*  Adaptable (+2 to Stamina), Dominion of Man (+1 Courage), Skilled (+1 pick each to Armed Combat (Polearms) and Ranged Combat (Bows).

*Abilities:* Bearing 8 (+1), Nimbleness 9 (+1), Perception 9 (+1), Strength 12 (+3)*, Vitality 12 (+3)*, Wits 7 (+/-0).

*Reactions:*  Stamina +3*, Swiftness +1, Willpower +1, Wisdom +1.

_* - Favored Ability or Reaction._

*Order:*  Barbarian.
_Order Abilities_:  Hard March, Preferred Weapon (Armed Combat (Spear)).
_Advancements_:  2.

*Skills:*  Armed Combat (Polearms (Spear)) +6, Climb +4, Language (Dunlending) +5, Language (Westron (Common)) +3, Lore (History (Dunlendings)) +4, Lore (Realm (Dunland)) +5, Lore (Realm (Southern Misty Mountains)) +4, Observe +4, Ranged Combat (Bows (Longbow)) +3, Ride +1, Stealth +4, Track +6.

*Edges:* Hardy, Swift Recovery, Tireless, Travel-sense.

*Flaws:* -.

*Health:* 15.

*Defense:* 11.

*Courage:* 4.

*Renown:* 0.

*Gear:* Spear, Longbow, 30 arrows, Leather Armor.

*Description:*  5'11", 165 lbs.  Age 24.  Dark brown hair, brown eyes.

*History:*  "We are a diminished people," the headman said simply. "For too long we have warred. Amongst ourselves, against the stone-men, against those-who-ride, against these old mountains. The time for war has not ended, but this time, we will not fall prey to the folly of our ancient brethren at Dunharrow. This time we will fight with the shadows cast from our sight."

Lanwi looked wonderingly at the old man. He scanned the village around him, a tattered settlement perched in the foothills of the Misty Mountains. Besides himself, there were far too few able-bodied men left to even hunt for the village adequately, let alone make war.

"Mountain-father, the only war we may make now is against starvation, and even that is no more than a holding action. Our brother tribes are now seldom seen, and I believe they are not simply hunting the uplands. I believe that many of them have answered the call of the White Hand or the Red Eye. We should also answer those calls, and be fed."

"No. No more shall we live within the shadows. To answer the calls that have ensnared our brothers will replace death of the body with death of the soul. For year upon year have we been lured by such calls, and for year upon year we have slowly become little more than the hunting dogs of shadow." The old man leaned heavily upon his staff-spear, peering into the east, a strange light in his eyes.

"The stone-men and their horsed allies forced us from our homes in the great green lands and into the mountains. Are we to then ride into their camps, to fetch their water and dump their slops? They have warred upon us without end, without provocation, for more years than there are rocks upon the mountainside." Lanwi shifted his spear in his grip, facing south towards Gondor, a hard look upon his face. 

The headman turned to face Lanwi, his desolate look unnerving the young man. "Ah, Lanwi...it is all lies. Had we sided with those of the light and not of the shadows, had we sought the wisdom of the Elder Ones instead of that of their Enemy...we might now walk upon green lands, with our wives and our children fed and happy and not underneath cairns of stone upon which the crows roost. Come. I will tell you of a way that even a diminished folk such as we can help turn back the coming night."

***

Lanwi spent many a long night listening to the headman's hushed tales, his recounting of visions that came to him from "somewhere beyond even the sight of the Great Eagles." The lore and history of the people of Dunland was told to him once again, as when he was a child, but this time it seemed a web of deceit had been lifted from it. When the headman's teaching was finished, Lanwi was left with a feeling of utter emptiness. His people had been nothing more than the slaves and pawns of the Dark Lord and his minions. Never had they been able to become great, to stand alongside the other free folk of Middle-earth as equals, held back from their potential by schemes and machinations of those who cared nothing for them.

Lanwi was angered. It was an anger that began to fill the emptiness, but before the anger became all-consuming, the headman tempered it with hope. "A great ending comes, and we can choose the path which is hard-going, that has many crags and ravines, and many treacherous slides of rock, but which ends at the summit, upon which we can see all around us and live in the warmth and light. Or, we can choose the path that is easier, swifter, and with fewer blocked passes, but which leads to nothing but a precipice which we cannot avoid."

"We are too few to make a real difference. If we stripped the village of every man who could lift a spear, we would have little more than an understrength hunting party." Lanwi's frustration was with history and its misspent loyalties.

The headman laughed, the first laugh heard in the village in too long a time. "Ah, my boy! Numbers mean nothing! The mountain range is made up of individual peaks, each one of them great in their own right. If they stood alone, would they be any less of a mountain?"

Lanwi looked at the headman with genuine curiosity. "Are you saying that I can stave back the shadow on my own? That seems impossible."

"If each does his part in being one of the mountains in the range, an unconquerable array of peaks will soon rise up."

This time it was Lanwi's turn to laugh. "Well, old man, enough talk of mountains. You have convinced me. What is on your mind for me to do?"

The headman spoke long of duty and honor, of loyalty and friendship. "Of these things, the Dark One has none. Many of our people have been under his sway long enough to also have none. Perhaps if one of us can demonstrate that such things are still left to us as a people, then we will have redeemed ourselves."

"That does not seem like much," Lanwi said.

"Sometimes, my boy, that is all there is. And that is often enough." The headman then gave careful directions to Lanwi. "Go north and west, and look for the Windy Hill, that the stone-men called Amon Sul, and that some also call Weathertop. I have seen a vision of one for you to meet, a guide...you will know him by his green mail. Beyond that, I see little but confusion, of the potential for great loss, but also of great victory. The road will be hard, my boy, but you are strong and untiring. Do your best. That's all anyone can do."

Lanwi left one fine mountain morning, a great eagle wheeling high above. "A good omen," Lanwi thought, as he hefted his spear onto his shoulder and walked down off the mountainside.


----------



## Valiantheart

*Here is something a little different*

Kormalyssnarix: the Storm of Chaos
Male Half-fiend Great Wyrm Red Dragon (Fire)
CR: 37
HD: 50d12+650
HP: 1147
Special Qualities: Fire, Negative Energy, Scrying, and Poison Immunity. Immune to spells that effect the mind.  Cold, Acid, Electricity Resistance 20. DR: 30/+3. SR 36. 
Str 54, Dex 14, Con 36, Int 30, Wis 28, Cha 30,
Alignment: Chaotic Evil
Spell-Like Abilities: 3/day-suggestion, unholy aura, and darkness; 1/day-eyebite, desecrate, unholy blight, contagion, blasphemy, unhallow, horrid wilting, summon monster 9, destruction, and discern location.
Casts spells as a 25th level Sorcerer 

Unique Spell:
Dimensional Leash
Transmutation [Teleportation]
Level: Sor/Wiz 8
Components: V, S, M
Casting Time: 1 action
Range: Medium (100 ft. + 10 ft. / level)
Target: Any target using a teleportation type magic which traverses the Astral Plane to reach its destination
Duration: 1 hour/level or discharge
Saving Throw: None
Spell Resistance: No

Whenever a teleportation effect is activated within range of the caster, he may elect to follow the teleporting creature to its destination as a free action. The caster receives an image of the location the teleporting character traveled to and must decide whether he wishes to follow or not on their next action. Choosing to follow the teleporting creature discharges the spell.

Arcane Material Component: Spider web tied in a loop around a gold ban.

History
Kormalyssnarix: the Storm of Chaos

The Birth
Kormalyssnarix’s was born over 2800 years ago on an unrecorded world in the prime material plane. He is the result of the deliberate breeding of a female Red Dragon and a Balor by a powerful wizard. Shortly after his birth a mighty band of adventures invaded the wizards keep slaying both the mage and Kormalyssnarix’s mother. The Balor, quickly realizing such a powerful and well-organized group overmatched it, grabbed his wyrmling son and fled back to its Abyssal abode.

Once back in its own home, the Balor went about raising its draconic son the best way it knew how, through intense physical torture and vile magical experimentation. The Balor did not think his son inherited enough of his own demonic nature and was determined to ‘improve’ him. His experiments caused his son to take on an even more demonic aspect and increased his power considerably.

Revenge
Despite the tortures he was subjected to Kormalyssnarix soon grew to immense size by feeding on a constant stream of mortal petitioners and demons. Eventually, he fled his father’s citadel and flew far off into the abyss. Once out from under his father’s control, Kormalyssnarix grew in strength even more rapidly. For centuries he existed on the periphery of his abyssal plane and greeted all other beings with an ugly death. His reputation for unmatched fury and strength was whispered about in awe and fear by other demons of the plane. His demonic father, fearing his sons ever increasing power would soon pose an unassailable problem, organized an army of fiends to prepare to slay his son. Unfortunately for the Balor his plans were set in motion far too late. Kormalyssnarix returned to his father’s citadel and exacted bloody revenge on his demonic sire. He destroyed his fallen father’s citadel and laid waste to the marshaling army of demons and surrounding land for miles around before his fury was finally spent. One demon that managed to survive the dragon’s fury commented that it was like a great chaotic storm had come to blast the land clean.

Consolidation
Kormalyssnarix was not content to merely exact revenge on his father and his minions. He had decided that the entire abyssal plane would be his. He began waging war against all the other demons that styled themselves lords in ‘his’ domain. Those who fought him soon found a vicious death beneath his claws or teeth. Those who bowed to his might soon found themselves paying for his mercy. Despite his ‘mercy’, the Storm of Chaos regularly made meals of demons who offended him, or who merely were around when he grew hungry.

Reckoning
Kormalyssnarix’s hold on his abyssal layer lasted for nearly 500 years. In the FR year 1289, Kormalyssnarix found himself in a conflict with the God-demon Orcus. Despite all his incredible power he found himself completely overmatched against the mighty demon prince. The demon lords he had humiliated for centuries took the opportunity to unite against the demonic dragon and drove him from the layer. Severally wounded and hopelessly outmatched, Kormalyssnarix fled to several different layers of the abyss. His reputation for destruction preceded him however and he soon found himself driven from each new plane he tried to make a home on by its current inhabitants. 

Faerun
Fleeing from a powerful army of Demogorgon, Kormalyssnarix, wounded and tired, came upon a succubus enchantress. She offered to open a gate for Kormalyssnarix to another realm if he promised to do a favor for her when the time came. Blood oaths were taken and the portal was opened.

The Storm of Chaos found himself in a dense jungle on a foreign planet on the Prime Material Plane. After nearly a century of flight Kormalyssnarix had tempered his desire for destruction with caution. He used his prodigious magical skills to scry the countryside learning as much about its varied inhabitants as he could before he ventured out. Fearing imminent discovery he slew any being that stumbled upon him.

After viewing the weak nature of this worlds inhabitants, many of the Storms fears were laid to rest. He left the jungle to explore the world in person and seek a more permanent layer. The Storm made his way up the Dragon Coast but was surprisingly placid. He was so surprised by the weakness and lack of resistance from the world’s inhabitants that he did not even choose to attack. He encountered a brash young Black dragon on his travels and slew him easily for his insolence. He then tossed its broken body onto the streets of Calimport. He flew by the abode of Balagos but the Flying Flame chose not to confront the Storm. He flew leisurely less than 500 feet above the spires of Waterdeep and no Archmage threw a spell at him. But the feat that cemented his reputation as a new power in Faerun was his visit to the City of Shade. He was greeted by over a score of Shade warriors on Veersabs and a pair of powerful Shade wizards. Faced with opposition for the first time, the Storm finally released his ever-building rage and flew into the shades like his namesake suggests. No shade that elected to face the great dragon survived their encounter that day. The Storm of Chaos then casually circled the city several times before flying off. 

Since that day, the powers of Faerun have definitely taken notice of the great demonic dragon Kormalyssnarix. He is very heavily protected from any type of scrying and his current whereabouts and his layer are unknown. Many powerful lords would be willing to pay handsomely any being who could bring back concrete knowledge of the Storms location or motivation.

Plots
Kormalyssnarix is content to bide his time and plot. He is collecting a massive amount of knowledge about the powerful people of Faerun through his scrying. His primary goals are causing destruction and asserting his dominance over all other beings. He is apt to have several long reaching plots in motion at once, but his chaotic nature makes it difficult to remember or stay interested in them for to long. He also enjoys the corruption of good beings and Paladins. 

The Storms other primary goal is the resurrection of his mother. Other than himself she is the one being in the entire multiverse he has ever cared for. He has attempted to restore her soul into the body of several dragons he has slain in the past but his efforts are for not. He is currently attempting to build an artificial body for his mother to inhabit.

The Storm is contemptuous of Dracoliches and the Cult of the Dragon. He will actually go out of his way to destroy a Dracolich, cult member, or dragon that has sworn allegiance to them.

Personality
The Storm of Chaos is a bubbling font of rage. He is far more in control of it now than in his youth but sometimes small things can often set him off on a killing spree that spreads for miles. He posses no true benevolent personality traits but is sometimes susceptible to being reasoned with. Any being that directly affronts the Storm will be hunted down and slain regardless of the time it takes.

Years of torture and paranoia in the abyss have reduced the Storm’s desire for sleep.  Consequently, he is much more active than most Dragons.  The Storm fears little but will flee an encounter if he finds himself overmatched. An overconfident party will soon find that he will return better prepared to extract revenge. He commonly keeps a contingency spell on his person at all times to teleport him to his layer should he become badly injured. 

The Storm's demonic nature has made him utterly evil and chaotic. He doesn’t even understand the concept of mercy or pity and delights in inflicting pain, death and destruction on others.

Other Special qualities:
The Storm can surround his body with a purple and black flame. The body flame does 1d6 fire damage and 1d6 unholy damage to any being within 5 feet of the dragon or who is struck by its physical attacks.

The Storm has a second breath weapon: a cone of unholy energy. Any being within the cone receives 3d4 negative levels and 10d4 points of unholy damage. A saving throw reduces the damage and negative levels drained by half. 

The Storm is always under the effect of a mind blank and true seeing spells. They can be dispelled but the dragon can restore them as a free action. He can also detect magic and detect good at will.

The Storm’s tail ends in a series of barbs similar to a manticore’s. A tale sweep or slap from the Storm delivers a powerful poison attack. Initial damage 2d6 con, Secondary 2d6 con. Save DC same as breath weapon. 

Appearance
The Dragon looks similar to a monstrously massive red dragon from a distance, but up close its demonic heritage becomes readily apparent. The Storms scales are all edged in a black that resembles dried flaking blood.  His body and head are horribly scared from the centuries of torture he was subjected to, including a massive vivisection scar reaching from the bottom of his chin to the end of his abdomen.  

The Storm’s eyes are pupil-less, pitch-black orbs and his tail ends in a wicked barb. The Storm actually has human like hands at the peaks of its wings that are fully capable of manipulating their environment, and he commonly wields a wand in each.

Worn Items
The Storm always wears a ring of regeneration, a ring of spell turning, and an amulet of protection +5.  He also commonly has a wand of lightning (10th caster level) and a wand of frost (10th caster level) in each wing claw.


----------



## Dalamar

Sildarin Nightwhisper, 5th level elven psion (psychoportation specialist)

Description
Sildarin is 4'2" tall and weights 130lb. 

Sildarin wears a leather armor on top of simple clothes. He doesn't like mingling with people and usually just tries to stay away from them and go unnoticed. He has a simple cloak with dull colors to protect himself from cold weather when necessary.

Sildarin's skin has a light tan, caused by his preferance of being outside instead of inside. His hair is dark brown and cut to the lenght of about an inch.

Sildarin is quite indrawn a person, mostly talking only to his psicrystal, Slith, who usually stands on his soulder with its spidery ectoplasm legs.


----------



## fizban

*The Greatest Character*

My favorite character is named Ghendar. He is presently an 8th lvl Sorcerer/2nd lvl Dragon Disciple/1st lvl Arcane Devotee. Plus, on top of all this, he's has the Half-Elemental template from pages 188-189 of the Manual of the Planes.

Ghedar is a human, about 6 feet tall originally from Calimshan.  Because of the half-elemental template, he has reddish-broen hair, and eyes and skin which have a red tint. He is a fanatical worshipper of Kossuth. He speaks to anyone who will listen about Kossuth and attempts to win many converts. He has had some success. he also wants to erect a temple to his god at some point. Ghendar believes that most problems can be solved by fire. 

Now for some specific adventure background.

Ghendar loved fire from an early age. When his sorcerous powers manifested themselves, he decided on a path of adventure. Because of his love of fire, Kossuth seemed the ideal patron and he soon became a fanatical worshipper of The Firelord. 

Ghendar's wanderings eventually led him to Shadowdale where met up with a group of fellow adventurers. Ghendar (and his group) had several adventures or mishaps, depending on your point of view. These include:

Taking a trip through a gate and finding themselves in Thay, naked and caged in an arena.

Rescued from imprisonment in Thay by a druid and a headstrong (crazy) ranger/barbarian

Sent to Ravenloft

Made a deal with a devil to increase his personal power and became a half-fiend

Got out of Ravenloft by killing the domain lord. While in Ravenloft, he was killed by an outsider slaying arrow and watched as two of his friends were polymorphed into goldfish.

Decided to have a robe with flame motifs custom made. He looked sharp.

Took a brief jaunt into Realmspace where he battled Beholders. 

Exlpored a sentient haunted house and was attacked by a door. Said door wouldn't stay open, so Ghendar decided to take it off the hinges and throw it outside. The door objected to this and flew at Ghendar and hit him. He then promptly burned it. It finally stopped moving.

Undertook a brief expedition into the Underdark where he was killed by a door trapped with a Finger of Death spell. Ghendar hasn't had very good luck with doors much to the delight of the rest of the group.

Finally, Ghendar was given a mission by his god, Kossuth. The mission is to travel to various elemental planes and retrieve several artifacts. He had the half-fiend template removed and the half-elemental template applied by his god.

That's about it. Stay tuned to this spot for further updates about our favorite firebug. Who knows, maybe he will run afoul of another door.


----------



## Angcuru

I'm still getting details together for my character, but I have one simple question for Kai Lord and (possibly) Todd.

While getting together a description, I came across a bit of a problem.  The way the description is going, it would be redundent to display this character NOT alongside his wife, whom is constantly by his side.  Besides that, you can't really feel the depth of the character without picturing his wife as well.

Now, I don't presume anything and I don't want to come off as a greedy bastard; but would it be possible for the illustration to include his wife as well, if a good enough description is given?


----------



## Kai Lord

Angcuru:

I understand your desire to see your character depicted alongside his wife, however this contest is for a single character portrait.  You're more than welcome to enter your character and his wife as separate entries, however.


----------



## Arken

> I understand your desire to see your character depicted alongside his wife, however this contest is for a single character portrait. You're more than welcome to enter your character and his wife as separate entries, however.




Sorry to ask Kai Lord but would that include Animal Companions too?

I just wanted to ask incase I submitted a character that had an animal as one of their main points and then it wouldn't be allowed 

Also I just wanted to say that I think this is an absolutely brilliant compatition and to say thank you for the oppertunity you've given everyone


----------



## Kai Lord

Go ahead and include Animal Companions if you want, just understand that depending on the size and detail required to draw them they might not get included on the final piece.  But post 'em if you got 'em.


----------



## Knightfall

Lalato said:
			
		

> *KF72...  that's not a background story...  that's a novella...
> 
> --sam *




And your point is what, sam?


----------



## Angcuru

Angcuru think Knightfall need shorter sig. *yawn*


----------



## Broken Fang

Short and simple:


Broken Fang - Male Goblin

Height: short
Weight: not much
Eyes: small, black, shifty and beady
Hair: none
Skin: green

Unusual Feature: Broken Fang's right tusk is well...broken

Clothing: dark (black, green, brown), well worn

Weapons: short nasty curved blades, throwing darts


----------



## Artimoff

Here's my character I play in our 3e Ravenloft campaign.

Myra Wagner
Half-Vistani Gypsy Witch, worshiper of Hala
Str. 10 Int. 13 Wis. 13 Dex. 10 Con. 16 Cha. 17 Alignment: LN
Ht.: 5ft 5  Wt.: 123  Eyes: Brown   Hair: Auburn  Age: 24


My bigest problem with finding a portrait of Myra is difining Vistani as gypsy where a lot of people thing that gypsy is only a lifestyle and not a race of people. 

So myra like a beautiful "Bollywood" actress with wavey auburn hair. She wears loose fitting, flowing embridered shirts. A necklace/holy simbol of 13 snakes in a ring, each devouring the tail of the one before it. (3e Ravenloft campain book page 52)

And now the long sorted history..

Background
Myra was the daughter of a seamstress and a goat hearder in city of Harmonia in the land of Kartikas. When she was 6 her parents had another child, as son named Gregory. Myra helped her mother ment clothing and her dad to tend goats. All was right with the Wagner family until around Myra's thirteenth birthday when the full moon rose in the night sky. On that night she suffered from the lunatio, or moon madness. On the first night she went into a rage over what her mother had prepaired for dinner and ran from the Wagner home into the wilderness surounding Harmonia. She ran through some brush and found herself in a grotto she had never seen before, the lunatio died down as well. As she explored the groto, she was approached by the most beautiful sight she had ever seen, a beautiful man with great white feathered wings. He told her that he was an angel from the heavens, that she could come to the groto every full moon and that he would teach her. His first lesson was that the lunatio was a product of her vistani blood, and to ask her mother about the vistani. On the last night of the full moon the angel Zazael seduced Myra.

Myra returned to her home after the 3 days of the full moon. She confronted her mother about the lunatio and demanded that her mother tell her about the vistani. Her mother admited that shortly before she had married her "father" she had had an affair with a charming vistani named D'jango it was short but passionate and she found herself with child soon after her marrage to "her father" Silas. Silas never questioned aloud why his daughter had darker skin ans somewhat vistani features, but he knew in his heart. 

One year later D'jango came back to Harmonia. His tribe came to Harmonia for an annual festival that was held in the streets. It was at this festival where Myra met D'jango for the first and only time. She was performing with a troup of  amature bards, she on a violin that Zazael had given to her. D'jango seeing the girl who looked like a half-vistani but with the auburn hair of the girl he had romanced 15 years earlier, he knew at that moment this girl was his. The meeting didn't go well. Myra ran home and told her parents about D'jango. Silas flew into a killing rage and went to look for the vistani man. Later that day the town guards found silas' bloody corpse. He had died of knife wounds The Niat tribe of vistani had left Harmonia that day.

Over the next five years Myra's mom, Abigail, became depressed and sickly. Gregory fell in with a group of roudy kids. Myra, though, continued to visit Zazael every full moon. In this six year period Zazael tought Myra the art of witchcraft and seduction. Zazael would not grant Myra the use of spells until she performed a task, the task of seducing her friend Anne's intended, William. It took a month but William and Myra started an affair. The next full moon Myra learned her first spell. Zazael told her that her seduction wasn't complete, she need to bear a child by William if she wanted more power. Before the age of 20 Myra was with child. William called thew affair off and told Anne. It was a hard sell but Anne took him back only if he got custody of his child. Zazael agreed to this so Myra gave them the child. Anne even came to forgive Myra naming the boy Silas, after Myra's dead father. But Abigail could not forgive, she died of  a broken heart when Myra was pregnant.

Myra and Gregory took up the family businesses, she the seamstress and Gregory the goat hearder.

By the age of 23 she was a first level witch. And the campain begins

Myra later learns the life of a gypsy (class), Hears ofo Hala via the party paladin. Becomes maddly obsessed with the paladin after his death, and just after his resurection is brainwashed with the paladin into a sex/death cult & charmed into having sex with him for days non-stop. After the charm wore off they decided to keep continue their affair. 

Zazael scenses the change in Myra towards Hala and asks for a powerful artfact the party had come across ( Rhea's glowing box from the Stephen King novel Wizard and Glass). Myra tells him no, so Zazael strips her of her spellcsasting ability. 

After their adventures, one of witch has Gregory becoming a wearrat and leaving in the night with the parties bag of holding, they return to Harmonia. Their home has changed. A local Bard in line for miestersinger (mayor) is passed over for an outsider new to the town. Not only that, when Myra goes to visit Silas and Anne she finds William dead and Anne and Silas missing. She also finds a single white feather.

Through 3 seperate political plotlines Myra and the party find Zazael's lair and find Anne and Silas chained to a dungeon wall She frees Silas and is about to free Anne when Anne changes shape into Zazael. Zazael's form isn't finished changing He changes into a beautiful woman with snow white wigs: An Erinyes. A Devil. 

After a tough fight Myra's party was victorious.

Later, Myra is contacted by 3 witches of Hala. They tell her that they know of Zazael and her defeat. Myra is invited to journey to forlorn and become an annointed of Hala. She and Silas arive in forlorn with their escort and discovers a coven of 13 and a young vistani boy of 17. He is introduced a D'jango her half brother. Myra finds out that the coven leader is also a lover of the elder D'jango, that he is well and that her father defended himself and had no choice in killing her adoptive father. 

Over the next month Myra learns the way of the witch and becomes a weaver of hala's magic (a homemade class). The coven leader sees much potental in little 4 year old Silas and offers to teach him the ways of Hala. Myra agrees and she, with D'jango jr. in tow, return to Harmonia

And then the Dm needed time off.


----------



## Branduil

*My character*

This sounds like a lot of fun. May the best characters win.  

Here's Mine:

Branduil, Ranger of the West.

Half-Elf, 26, 6'0'', 168 lbs. Dark hair, silver eyes.

Physical Description: Dark and mysterious, as a ranger should be, Branduil nonetheless sports several unique characteristics. His medium-long hair is almost uniformly dark, but with several silver streaks. It's parted down the middle, and his bangs almost reach his eyebrows. His eyes gleam silver in the dark. On the ridges around his eye socket, he bears several scars stretching from his mid-forehead to his left cheekbone. They appear to be from claws of some sort. 

He cloaks himself in a heavy, dark maroon fur-lined coat. Around the shoulders and hood it is covered in a thick mane of dirty grey fur.

He wears thick traveling boots and a dark forest green tunic over his studded maroon leather armor. He wears brown leather bracers on both arms. On his right hand is an unusual gauntlet. He wears it constantly. When he tightens his right hand, spikes spring out from above the gauntlet's knuckles. 

At his side an elegant Longsword is sheathed. A shortbow and a quiver of arrows are upon his back.

Characteristics and background history: In a land where elves have died out and elven blood is all but extinct, there still exists a few of elven heritage. But there existence is not a happy one if they are of the Atar's bloodline. That cursed elf helped bring about the downfall of the elven race, and all his ancestors are considered to be cursed and dangerous. Thus they are persecuted. 

Branduil's own father was slain when he was 20. Slain by the Dark Claw, in revenge for his father's taking of both Dark Claw's hand and his prized gauntlet. Having now acquired an actual clawed hand through black sorcery, Dark Claw pursues and hunts half-elves unmercilessly, considering their fading to be part of natural selection. Branduil escaped him, but not without a parting gift across his face. 

He escaped to a life of the woodlands, and lived with an old friend of his father's, a dwarf named Grimgnir. He tought Branduil both the dwarven language and the way of the woodlands.

Branduil bears his father's greatsword, Morog, sword of the WildElf. It has an emerald green handle and an icy blade, forged in times of yore.

Branduil's mother was allowed to live as she was not of the Atar's bloodline. Branduil refrained from visiting her out of fear of death, but upon hearing of her mortal illness, he could not resist any longer. He attempted to find her, but she was already dead, and Dark Claw was waiting. 

Branduil was brought before the corrupted king, and only one thing saved him from death. His lifelong friend, the beautiful half-elf Salinde. He had known her since they were children, delighting in her songs and legends of the past, passed down by her knowledgable mother. She begged for mercy before the king and Dark Claw, and her sacrifice commuted Branduil's sentance to life imprisonment. She promised to lead Dark Claw to the fabled sword of Feanor. Feanor, who fought valiently, if foolishly, against the Atar. He loved the daughter of the Atar, but their love was doomed. Still, his sword bore great power for the finder. She knew a song of it and its location, and Dark Claw greatly desired it, and her as well, so he agreed. Branduil pleaded with her not to do this, but she would not relent.

In the dank chamber of the king's dungeons, she spoke to Branduil one last time, alone. She had spoke with Branduil's mother before she died, and she had revealed that Branduil's mother was of Feanor's bloodline. Then she sang to Branduil the rest of the song of Feanor's sword, which she had witheld before. It spoke of how only the descendent of both Feanor and the Atar, the fulfiller of the broken destiny of Feanor and the daughter of the Atar, would be able to wield the sword's true power, and bring a brief respite to the last of the elves, in their time of fading. 

And thus she left Branduil, in a dark dungeon of fear and despair, not knowing of anything to hope in but that song, and to love but her voice. He would have been left in this state until final madness, if not for the heroics of his dwarven friend and mentor. 

Grimgnir snuck deep into the bowels of the king's castle, and finally freed Branduil from his stony prison. But they encountered resistance in escaping. Grimgnir told Branduil to fly, but Branduil refused to leave his friend behind. Branduil smote the the guards in a terrible fury and drug his wounded mento into the forest. 

Though Branduil applied all his skill, he could not heal the dwarf. The dwarf, being old, told Branduil it was better this way. He told Branduil to pursue Dark Claw, and save Salinde. Then he asked Branduil to not succumb to despair, and not to lose hope. It was Branduil's destiny to lead his people to a rest that would be peaceful. He musn't give up. Then passed the dwarf.

And so, in his grief, Branduil set out to find Dark Claw and to dave his people.

----------------

Hope that's good enough. 
 

Edit: Clarified and expanded a couple of things in his description.


----------



## Ferret

_Daetanytriall spun a kick a round, and then ducked his master’s jab, pulled the fist over his head and took out the legs of his mentor. In a split second he was on his back, he got a stern word from Hironishimi, his master; then left for his room._

Daetanytriall is half-drow; he stands tall as he can with his lithe but well built structure, at only 5’3” he is still revered as having great potential. His mother died giving birth to him, which he holds himself responsible for, but he has train hard to surpass the bad memories and has been in the monastery of ilmater for all his life.

The training has honed not only his spirit, but his body, and has made him an excellent fighter, but as his masters will say he still has a dominating and fierce fire inside him he needs to accept, let alone tame. He is brash at times, and acts like an over-restricted teenager, as symbol of this he has his hair cut short, but wild. His eyes have a deep red tone, with streaks of abyss coloured blackness.

His choice of clothing reflects the way he wishes to live; freely. He wears a whitish overcoat, and matching baggy trousers made out of the simplest of fabrics. He doesn’t deem himself a demon of evil in the slightest, but realises other do not know him so well and was thus granted a magical hat to conceal his identity, he doesn’t like it but uses it out side of the monastery. He only owns that the clothes he wears and a haggard old waterskin.

The elvish side hold strong in his blood and features, adding more and more to likeness he has with drow people. His drow visage not only hides his benevolent spirit, it also makes him look weaker; something he isn’t.


----------



## Kai Lord

New Line Cinema has announced the release date for The Lord of the Rings:  The Two Towers on DVD, which will also be the same day the ten finalists are posted and ENWorld members will vote for their favorite.

That day is:

*August 26th.*

A fine day indeed.


----------



## Piratecat

Now that this is going strongly, I'll un-sticky it. Feel free to bump as needed (but posting entries is MUCH better than a bump!).


----------



## Dark Dragon

Kai Lord, thanks for this cool thread!

Well, here's my long played, still (or in other words: again) living druid, facing the perils in the Great Temple of Elemental Evil...

*Kaichiri, Archdruid of Mielikki* 

Centaur (male), druid 15
STR 16, DEX 19, CON 21, WIS 22, INT 10, CHA 16, AL NG
HP 156, height: roughly 200 cm, length (horse body): about 210 cm, weight: about 1400 pounds, hair: black, long (stick-straight), fur: dark brown, skin: brown, tatoos in black and dark green ink, eyes: dark brown.

_May the Spirit of Nature be your judge, for I am only its servant._ Kaichiri, before leaving a captured slave hunter in the deepest jungles of Chult.

Kaichiri was born in a remote jungle village of a primitive human tribe in monsoon time of the year 1341 D.R. When he was about six years old, he left the village out of pure curiosity. After several days, the village's shaman found the boy peacably sleeping at the entrance of a panther's cave. Following the tribe's tradition, the child received its name: kai'chir - wandering panther. The shaman deceided to teach the boy the laws and powers of nature, and over time, he inscribed the tattoos of the various spirits and elementals. When Kaichiri was sent out for his final test, he met a group of adventurers. Curious about the world beyond the jungles, he joined them. After some years, the group was forced to fight the Temple of Elemental Evil. Kaichiri lost his life as an enemy mage disintegrated him. A powerful friendly druid gave him a second chance, and Kaichiri returned as a centaur. 

Kaichiri values the welfare of nature and the freedom of all creatures above anything else. The laws of civilized lands have little meaning to him, but he will accept them as long they are no threat. Those who are mistreating nature, living beings or restrict freedom of others for own profit are rarely given the chance to change their lifes...He never fights animals unless his life is threatened or he is in need of food. 
The many fights and adventures have made Kaichiri thoughtful and the loss of many friends puts him sometimes in a grief-stricken mood. Before attacking an evil stronghold or rampaging creatures he tries to get as many informations as possible. Solving a problem often involves heavy use of spells (both defensive and offensive), but wildshaping and melee combat is always used when the opportunity arises. Although animals are seen as friends and aides, Kaichiri has not chosen an animal companion, because he changes the location often by magical travel.

Over the years, Kaichiri developed a good skill in fighting with the longspear, but after losing his equipment in the temple, he often fights with a daily enchanted club. Nevertheless, he still carries a longspear on his back. He dislikes weapons with too many metal (like the scimitar) and any type of armor, because it would cover his tattoos. In all his years, he has never worn armor except a large wooden shield. A jaguar's fur acts as an open cloak. Money and jewelry are still a bit strange for Kaichiri, and so he hasn't acquired large treasures.

EDIT: stupid typos...


----------



## Shadowdancer

Well, if others are going to offer up more than one character, I guess I will, too.

This is interesting character I've used primarily as an NPC in one form or another, in one game or another, for many years.

Minerva is sexy femme fatale-type who also is an assassin. She uses her sexuality to get close to a target and get close enough to check out his security arrangements. But she doesn't kill the target while she is bedding him, or immediately afterward. That would place too much suspicion on her. She either sneaks back in later, or kills him from a distance with a poisoned arrow. She finds her work is much more challenging, and thus interesting, that way.

Minerva is a full-blood elf, but half of that blood is dark elf/drow. She has a dark, dusky complexion that most men find very exotic. She has long, straight, silvery white hair, falling to the middle of her back. Her large, cat-like eyes are violet. Her head is slightly too large for her body, and she has a long, graceful neck (think Audrey Hepburn or Marie Osmond). Her lips are full and pouty. Her breasts are firm and sit upright, but are not so large they get in the way. She is tall for an elf, with a lithe body and the long, muscular legs of a dancer. She often works as a dancer/courtesan, and uses this as a means of meeting her intended targets. She is very sexy and beautiful, and her every movement is very graceful and oozing of sexuality. She is the woman that every man desires, and the one other women fear their men will meet while at the same time being envious of her freedom and open sexuality.

When Minerva is dancing, either for an audience or for an individual, she uses her innate drow spell-like abilities to enhance her performance. She will surrouned herself in a globe of Darkness before taking the stage. Then she will dispell the globe to make a sudden appearance. She will Levitate, and outline her body in a purple Fairie Fire. Dancing Globes will orbit around her during the performance, moving to the music just as she does. When performing, she is usually dressed in skimpy outfits of fine spider silk.

Not only is Minerva very skilled at dancing, she can play several instruments and has a beautiful singing voice. She also is well trained in many sexual techniques and positions. In addition, she is very adapt at sneaking into a building without being seen or being stopped by locks, traps or guards. She is skilled in the use of many weapons and poisons. She is a limber, talented acrobat -- on stage, in combat and in bed.


----------



## Orm

Great thread...

Here we go:
Malik
male human Rogue 6/Fighter 2/Deepwood Sniper 3
STR 14, DEX 18, CON 14, INT 14, WIS 10, CHA 10
He stands about 5´7´´ and weighs about 138lb. Pale skin, brown hair, brown eyes. He was raised by some relatives -at least this is what they told him- in Waterdeep. His parents are unknown. He grew up doing some minor thefts and robberies around the harbour. During one of these raids, one sailor (a pirate) came to death accidentially. He got caught by the pirates and was forced to work on the ship as a replacement. After quite a while he escaped...

Since then he is travelling with his comrades. They want to destroy evil, he wants to get money and power. But they don´t know exactly, and he never will tell them about his motivations (he´s kind of opportunist). Right now they rely on his abilities to open locks and find and overcome traps, but he often suffers pain trying so.  

In combat, he prefers a chain shirt (hoping to find an elven shirt again, his own one got destroyed during an incident in a pool of acid in the temple of elemental evil). In melee he´s doing pretty well twin sword style with a rapier and a dagger, sometimes throwing his daggers. He definitely stands out in ranged combat, fighting the baddies with a mighty composite longbow before they even spotted him.

In his off time he sometimes used to perform some acrobatic tricks for money with the groups bard/sorceress, who deceased in the temple of elemental evil.
He has no special relationship to the gods but tymora often helped him in tight situations.


----------



## Shadowdancer

I can't believe people let this thread fall so soon.


----------



## Orm

Then, here´s another one:

Torgut, sometimes called Longarm
male Half-orc barbarian 2/ fighter 4/ lasher 3
STR 18, DEX 16, CON 14, INT10, WIS 10, CHA 10
chaotic neutral

Son of an Orc leader and a captured woman, at the age of 5 years he was "rescued" by some paladins who brought him to their temple and raised him. As it was impossible to tame his wild side, they tried to channel his powers to fight for the good. Seems, they weren´t very succesful, so they sent him away to find a holy artefact. Bit by bit he comes to think that the templars just wanted to keep him far away from the temple, as he wasn´t able for two years to find any hints about the artifact.

Due to his education in the temple he has quite low strength but he is not as stupid as the average half-orc. He learned for example that not every elf is bad (in orcish dimensions). Normally, he tries to talk first. If they are still hostile, well, it´s their own fault.
He is quite young, about 15 years old, 6´4´´, 180lb, well trained with no grain of fat on his body. Grey-green skin, some scars, well groomed hair and fingernails, clean clothing.

In combat, he wears studded leather and a buckler strapped to his left arm. With his left hand he uses a bladed gauntlet, merely to finish off the unfortunate foes, who come too close. In his right hand he wields a mighty whip-dagger to keep foes away. If necessary, he takes his bow.

That´s so far,
Orm


----------



## Kai Lord

As promised, here is a bump for those not yet aware of the contest.  I will bump the thread one, and only one, more time the first week of July before announcing the 10 finalists the first week of August.

Originally I was going to choose the top ten finalists myself, but Todd expressed to me that he wanted to assist with narrowing down the final 10, so I'm choosing 20 "semifinalists" that he and I will choose the final 10 from.  Once he and I agree on the finalists, they will then be posted the first week of August for everyone to vote on.  Todd will then look at the Top 3 picks from the poll and choose his favorite.

However, to make this bump and the next more interesting, I am announcing *TWO* characters that I have locked into the final 20.  These *will* be among the 20 I send to Todd.  Keep in mind the other 18 are still undecided, and ALL remaining characters are still under consideration.  I _love_ reading about these characters, and am having a blast with this contest.  I hope you are too.

So, without further ado, the two characters that are locked into the final 20 are:

*Mejin A’koss*

and

*Zanatose Everhate*

As I said, ALL other characters are still be considered for the remaining 18, as well as any new entries from this day forward.  The next two semifinalists will be announced the first week of July.  Good luck and have fun!


----------



## hunter1828

Bronyuar mac Corwyn

25th-level Human Ranger/Sorcerer/Peerless Archer

STR 18  DEX 18  CON 12   INT 12   WIS 13  CHA 16

Neutral Good

Lean with tight muscles, tan & weathered skin, long black hair w/braids near each ear, long mustache shot with silver, brown eyes that sometimes seem older than 33.  5'10" tall, 185 lbs.

Serious when action is called for, but knows how to relax.  Quick with a smile, but laughter comes slower.  Not afraid to skirt laws to see justice properly done.  Sometimes prone to melancholy and long, contemplative thoughts.

Bronyuar has a pseudo-dragon familiar named Tekli.  Tekli is, like others of his kind, mischevious and fun-loving.  He enjoys riding on Bronyuars shoulders, head and forepaws resting on his masters right shoulder, tail and rear paws on the left shoulder.  He pretends to sleep most times but keeps one eye open just a slit to watch behind Bronyuar.

Bronyuar mac Corwyn was born to Seamus & Lora mac Corwyn in the tiny hamlet of Vustar's Hold, some 100 miles north and west of Silverymoon.  He grew up learning to hunt, fish, track and to use bow and blade.  He felt the calling of the Lady of the Forest around the age of 15 and set out to wander the North, battling orcs, Zhentarim agents, and other evil foes.  For nearly 10 years Bronyuar rode or walked between the ruins of Ascore and the city of Waterdeep at least a half dozen times.

At the age of 22 he returned to Vustar's Hold for his father's funeral.  Bronyuar stayed around longer than usual this trip, partly to help ease his mother's broken heart, but also because of a young serving wench by the name of Lizbet.  After a whirlwind three-week courtship Bronyuar asked Lizbet to marry him and she said yes.  They moved into the family home after the wedding and this put much life back into his heart-sick mother as she welcomed her new daughter-in-law with open arms.

The next three years Bronyuar spent roaming much closer to home, typically never going farther than Silverymoon or Nesme.  In his 25th year Bronyuar begin hearing rumors of an orc chieftain massing an army whose soldiers were undead.  He began tracking down this rumor and pieces began to fall into place.  It soon became apparent that the orc chieftain was also undead.  In fact, he was a vampire.  The vampire orc was working with agents of the Cult of the Dragon to locate the tomb of a long-dead ancient red dragon whom the Cult intended to reawaken as a dracolich.  Bronyuar gathered a small force of men, elves and halflings and lead an assault on the orc vampire's lair.  The vampire was destroyed, his undead army returned to eternal sleep.  It was over.

But it wasn't.  Cult agents had learned of Bronyuar and while he and his force were busy destroying the vampire, the Cult assaulted Vustar's Hold and annihilated it, leaving the bodies of Bronyuar's mother, wife and infant in an identifiable state.  This incident drove Bronyuar mad.  In a fury he stalked the North, slaying orcs, undead, and Cult agents wherever he found them.  He gained the nickname "Ghostshadow" for his ability to track and strike while unseen.  His next five years were nothing but a series of bloody encounters as Bronyuar struck at his enemies without fear for his own life.  He was even banished for life from Nesme after stepping from the shadows to slay two disguised Cult members in the middle of the Nesme City Hall.

At the age of 30, while on one of his endless hunts, Bronyuar encountered Narine, a cleric of Kelemvor, also hunting undead.  They became friends, and slowly Narine drew Bronyuar back from his madness.  On his 31st birthday, Bronyuar married Narine.

Primary Ranged Weapon: Ghoulbane (+4 Ghoul Bane Mighty Composite Longbow)

Primary Melee Weapon: Silverblade (+4 Holy Scimitar)

Secondary Melee Weapon: Orcgutter (+2 Adamantine dagger)

Armor: Bracers of Armor +8, Ring of Protection +5, Amulet of Natural Armor +5

Other Magic Items: 50 +1 Arrows, 50 +2 Arrows, 50 +3 Arrows
50 +4 Flaming Arrows, Aribeth's Ring, Wand of Magic Missiles, Belt of Giant's Strength +6, Heward's Handy Haversack, Headband of Epic Intellect +8, Mantle of Great Stealth, Bag of Holding, Gem of Seeing.


----------



## hunter1828

And a second character...

--------------------------
TRELINA OF TELFLAMM

Female Half-elf  6th-level Rogue/6th-level Wizard  Neutral Evil

Trelina was born in the slums of Telflamm, the largest city in Thesk, in the year 1342 DR. Her mother, a half-gold elf named Asterlin, had been a thief of some small renown in Telflamm before she met Ralud, a half-drow mercenary from the far-off Moonsea lands. Asterlin fell in love with Ralud, though he was not in love with her. Ralud used Asterlin for his pleasures, sometimes sharing her with his companions, but left her and Telflamm when Asterlin became pregnant in early 1342 DR.

Trelina grew up under less-than-perfect conditions. Her mother, longing for Ralud, gave up on her career as a thief and began to live in the bottle, climbing in deeper every day. Quickly, the young Trelina came to hate her absent father for the mess he had made of her and her mother's life. She also came to revile her mother for allowing her emotions to so rule her life.

Asterlin had taken to prostituting herself in order to procure coins to feed her daughter. In 1345 she became pregnant again, giving
birth the following Marpenoth to her second daughter, Akara. Akara was, for all practical purposes, human. Her features were human, her build was human, and she lacked low-light vision. Asterlin had no idea who Akara's father was.

This second child seemed to drive Asterlin further into depression and alcoholism. Luckily, Trelina came to like her little sister and
she took it upon herself to protect and care for the girl, despite
being only four years old herself.

In 1350 DR Ralud returned to Telflamm and to Asterlin's bedchambers.  Asterlin seemed to recover somewhat with his return, but found herself even further under the cunning mercenaries innate charms.  Ralud came and went on various "missions" over the next three years.  When he found out in late 1353 that Asterlin was again pregnant he left, "for good" he claimed. Trelina's second sister, Leenaria, was born three months later on Midwinter Night.

Asterlin had no interest in any of her girls, spending all her time
crying over Ralud, her former career, and the mess her life had
become. The bottle beckoned and she let it swallow her. Trelina
began a career as a thief the day Leenaria was born. For two years she plied the streets of Telflamm, picking pockets and lifting purses to procure coins with which she purchased clothes and food for herself and her sisters. Two years later, at the age of thirteen, Trelina turned to the more lucrative profession of prostitution in order to be able to provide for her sisters.

For five years Trelina continued her career at thieving and
prostitution. Finally she had had enough. Akara was now fifteen and prostituting herself, Leenaria was already an accomplished thief at the tender age of seven, Asterlin had become a fat cow who moaned all day about how her life had been ruined, and Ralud had returned yet again and was attempting to seduce Akara. 

Trelina left. She packed her meager belongings and hit the road. 
She traveled for a couple of months, wandering aimlessly to the south and eventually ending up in Aglarond. There she met Barek, a mage of little power and much charm. Trelina agreed to travel with Barek and sleep with him if he would teach her to access the Weave, to cast arcane spells. Barek, eyeing the lovely, buxom girl, readily agreed.

She traveled with Barek for two years, doing his every depraved whim and being at his beck and call. Through this whole time Barek never taught her anything more than a few simple Cantrips. When pressed for more powerful magics, Barek would tell Trelina that she "wasn't quite ready," though Trelina began to understand that Barek was simply enjoying the free sex and he knew that she would leave when she had learned something substantial.

In Flamerule 1364 Trelina slit Barek's throat in the middle of the
night. She took his spellbook, spell components and a Ring of Mind Shielding and left his corpse in their camp by the road. She had learned enough from Barek that she was able to comprehend many of the spells and begin using them.

About a year later Trelina met up with a group of adventurers and began to travel with them. Even though Trelina relied upon no one but herself, she was far from stupid and recognized that traveling with a group had many advantages, including the advantage of safety in numbers.

The group came to call themselves "The Company of the Bat" after a Cloak of the Bat one member, a wizard name Alpraxis, used on a regular basis. The Company of the Bat headed east on a series of adventures, eventually finding themselves in Thay. It was there that the Company fought a small contigent of Thayvian guards, including a lesser Red Wizard, and defeated them. This defeat earned Trelina her second spellbook as she took the one from the Red Wizard.

During her time with the Company, Trelina attached herself to a
swashbuckling rogue by the name of Zaze. Trelina found Zaze quite attractive and useful in bed but, unlike her mother, kept her head about the situation. After nearly a year of travels and adventures the situation with the Company of the Bat began to deteriorate.  Alpraxis had caught Trelina copying spells from his spellbook without permission and a rift developed between the two. Her relationship with Zaze also deteriorated as her eyes and mind began to wander.  Their shattering relationship caused much strife within the party.

As the situation worsened violence nearly erupted amongst the whole group in general, and between Alpraxis and Trelina in particular.  Soon afterward, the party split up. Trelina made plans to kill Zaze, as she blamed him for much of the strife, but he disappeared before she could act. The last she heard of Zaze, he had set himself up as a pirate king on an island in the Sea of Fallen Stars. Trelina also offered to have sex with Alpraxis, to let him do anything sexual to her, as an apology. He refused her without speaking a word.

Shaking her head in confusion, Trelina picked up her pack and headed for Telflamm. She arrived home two months later to find that her mother had drowned after falling off a pier in a drunken stupor.  Trelina felt no remorse or sadness or loss, only anger that her mother had degenerated so. Trelina's oldest sister, Akara, was pregnant by Ralud, Trelina's own father. Akara was thrilled, Trelina was disgusted, and Ralud was nowhere to be found.

Also, Leenaria was missing. Akara told Trelina that Leenaria had
gone west with Ralud several months earlier but had not returned with him. Ralud had told Akara that he sold Leenaria into slavery in order to cover a series of mounting debts but Akara thought he was joking. Trelina knew otherwise and knew that her twelve-year-old sister was now a slave somewhere.

After only three days in Telflamm Trelina left again, setting out to
find her little sister. She left despising Akara as much as she had
despised her mother and hating Ralud even more than ever, vowing to kill him the next time she saw him.

Trelina traveled by ship to Chessenta and Unther, then on to Tantras and Raven's Bluff. There she found men who knew of her father and followed their suggested path to Hillsfar and Zhentil Keep. The trail turned southwards to Dagger Falls, then Cormyr. From Cormyr Trelina headed west to the Sunset Vale and then on to the coast and Baldur's Gate. In Baldur's Gate she met a handsome rogue and bounty hunter by the name of Jack. Trelina enlisted Jack's aid, as the trail had gone cold, and was soon on her way to Waterdeep with Jack, rewarding him with sexual favors.

The trail in Waterdeep led the pair deep into Undermountain and the outlaw city of Skullport. There agents of the Zhentarim ambushed them. Jack was slain and Trelina barely escaped with her life.  Recovering on the surface, Trelina was able to learn that her father had been in Skullport when she arrived in Waterdeep, had learned of her presence and ordered the ambush. He had then headed west at the head of a small troop of mercenaries bound for Nesme.

It took several months for Trelina to recover from her wounds, but a full recovery was made. By this time her father's trail had grown quite cold, but she followed it to the last destination she knew him to be headed for. She spent several more months in and around Nesme, trying to pick up the trail. In Marpenoth of 1371 she heard from a traveler that a man matching her father's description had been seen in the tiny town of Garrotten, several long days to the south. She set off for that town and arrived to find the area in great upheaval. An expatriate king had reclaimed an old dwarven kingdom, Hammerstone Hall, and the forces of Good were running those of an evil nature out of the area. She rode back and forth between Garrotten, Orlbar, Llorkh, and Restonford several times trying to find information. Early in 1372 she was finally able to learn that her father had been a guard for the Zhentarim at a garrison in the middle of Dawntreader Gap, had been captured after a failed assassination attempt on some adventurers, and let go several months later to take a message to the city of Llorkh. No one had seen him since, and his last known action was to hook up with a caravan bound 
for Iriaebor, Suzail, and Scardale. Trelina is bound to follow him 
and make him pay.


Trelina of Telflamm's Personality and Appearance

Trelina is a physical beauty. She stands 5'8" tall and weighs about 125 pounds. She has long, golden brown hair, bronze skin (with a hint of dark grey at the tips of her ears), and vivid purple eyes. She is physically fit from her years adventuring and traveling, and she is quite buxom. All in all, she presents a figure many men (and some women) find hard not to stare at.

She dresses in practical traveling clothes, buckskin breeches, linen shirt, wool overshirt, cloak and soft boots. She wears her weapons openly to warn away those that might mistake her for a helpless woman. Trelina is quite friendly, but only so long as it serves her goals. She smiles readily and puts people off with her sweet charm.

Trelina has a single-minded purpose in life – "Do whatever it takes to survive and grow strong. Do not become weak and ineffectual. Do not wallow in sorrow and self-pity." She is not above lying, cheating, stealing or even killing to get what she wants. From her early career as a thief she has paid homage, sometimes devoutly, to Mask, god of thieves. After becoming a prostitute, Trelina began to experiment with the teachings of Loviatar. While never becoming a full convert, she does enjoy many of Loviatar's teachings.

She is not above using sex to get her way, either. She often rewards services rendered with sexual favors, saving her coins for equipment and goods. Trelina also uses sex to gain answers, seal alliances and make apologies. She truly enjoys any and all of this and she feels the pleasure multiplied by the power of manipulation she has over whomever she has sex with.

Her upbringing, career choices and life choices have left Trelina
particularly twisted. While she does not view herself as evil in the
sense of those that kill maliciously, she is, without a doubt, evil.  She particularly reviles her father (an evil, vile man if there ever
was one) and fights the Zhentarim and Red Wizards whenever possible, but she in no way feels that others, such as the Harpers or Purple Dragons of Cormyr, are a better choice.


Trelina's Spellbooks

Trelina has three traveling spellbooks. The first one she took off
of Barek after murdering him. She calls it "Barek's Legacy" and it
stands about four hands high by two wide. It is fifty vellum pages
bound between two thin slabs of oak. The slabs are covered with
horse leather stained chrome yellow.

The second book is the one Trelina took off of the Red Wizard of Thay she defeated while with the Company of the Bat. She calls this book "The Red Book" because it's goatskin covered weirwood covers are stained with vermilion. The book contains fifty-three parchment sheets and stands three hands by one-and-a-half wide.

Trelina made the third book herself. It consists of fifty parchment
pages bound between two thin sheets of beaten silver. Her personal sigil has been etched in the center of the front cover. The book stands two-and-a-half hands high by two hands wide.


----------



## zorlag

*-------*

Here's my character:

Dein Ossimun Anarias
Stats: Human | 1 th level  Fighter / 5th level Rogue / 5th level Thief-Acrobat | Neutral evil

Personality: Calculating, curious and uncaring

Dein is 6'1'' with long, tangled green hair (tips of the hair are greyish white), white eyes. He's wiry and seems like he's starving even when he is eating well. His clothing consists of dark green tunic with torn sleeves, dark red vest (Vest of Escape) and chain shirt that is slowly unravelling (Kyton chain shirt). Dark green pants and soft black leather boots complete his attire. His skin is very pale and smooth, with oval-shaped face that is just about perfectly symmetric. Start contrast to his skin and eyes, his eyebrows are pitchblack and thick. As freakish as he looks, there is something weird about him that draws people to him. He is always carrying a polearm of some kind with him, he changes to different type at whim when he sees a new one in a shop. His favourite expression is smirk when something goes wrong. When he goes in combat, he dons silvery gauntlet on his right hand (+2 silver spiked gauntlet of frost). In a pinch he tosses poisoned dart or two when he faces tough opponent.

Background: 

Dein Ossimun Anarias was born in low station noble family as 3rd child. Family Anarias was mostly destroyed during wartime strife that engulfed entire Greyhawk. Dein's father ran and changed his name to Ossimun and hid amongst normal folk to avoid his enemies. Thus, early in life, Dein learned the value of secrecy. Dein's father also taught Dein how to fights when he grew up. However, when he reached adolescence, he grew restless and thirsted for revenge against those who had broken their family. This hadred was carefully nurtured by his aging father. Dein left the city and became traveller. For two years he wandered here and there, drifting from place to place, seeking means for power. And then one day, he found companions to his liking. Adventurers they called themselves, reckless and greedy bunch seeking both glory and riches. So he joined and travelled with them to Sunless Citadel. Rest of the group was killed but he was experimented upon by goblins and crazy druid that we're keeping the lower portion of the old temple as their refuge. He was almost blinded by the experiments and was left rotting in old jail cell. He was rescued by other group that wandered in that accurced place. He joined them and got his revenge on the druid and the goblins. He still hates goblinoids with passion, but is capable of keeping it in check when needed.

Currently he's studying ancient spire in middle of the weird city of Ptolus, where he travelled when he heard about it's many lost secrets and weird magics. He started venetrating Vecna, Lord of Secrets, after his first adventure. He often whispers Vecna's name in short prayer when he uncovers yet another item or fact that might have been better left alone. He has also started collecting various samples of poison and studied little alchemy between adventuring, trying to alleviate his sore eyes that are still sensitive to light. At times, his eyes appearance has served him well, since he can see fine, but often people think he's blind due to his white pupils. Nobody suspects that blind beggar on streetcorner, listening to softly spoken secrets...

Z.


----------



## Arravis

Is begging, pleading, and bribing allowed? 

*puts on his best puppy-dog face*

Mejin and Zanatose are both great choices btw , though I'll admit dissapointment on not seeing Sharantyr up there. I am considering writing a short (one or two page) short story on him, to better show his personality and why this character has become so fascinating to myself and everyone in our game as well.

Anyway, Kai, glad to see the thread alive again .


----------



## D-Man

Wow.  I'll have to write up a detailed description of my character.  Too cool.


----------



## D-Man

*Crowe*

2e Dark Sun Half-elf Psionicist

Six feet tall, black hair, dressed in tattered rags (its Dark Sun after all), piercing dark eyes.

He had a tendency to bust out _Animal Affinity_ (Kirre) in a fight, so I'd like to see him depicted with four furry muscular arms, claws at the end, and horns protruding from his scalp.  I know, I know, how many four armed half-elves with horns sticking out does one contest need, but this one has _black_ hair.


----------



## A'koss

> So, without further ado, the two characters that are locked into the final 20 are:
> 
> *Mejin A’koss*





WOOOOOOT!

[huff... pufff...]

WOOOOOOT!



Cheers,

A'koss!!!!!


----------



## talinthas

Talinthas Shadeslayn (dragonlance character)
Male Sylvanesti elf Rogue/Shadow dancer (align TN)
Age- well over 500 years old.

Tal is a rather reclusive and quiet sort, being one of the few mortals to live through three ages of Krynn.  Born approximatly 100 years before the fall of Istar and the Cataclysm, he has seen the gods leave, return, leave again, and return again.  He posseses the sort of hardened cynicism that only one tired of life could manage.

He was the child of an illicit relationship between a Sylvanesti noblewoman and her Kagonesti house servant, and was abandoned near a human village on the plains to the west of the elven homelands.  Tal was left in a wicker basket with but two possesions, a copper amulet bearing the rose of Majere, and a note instructing the plainsmen that found him to bob his ears and raise him as a human child.

Soon, he was found by a scout and brought back to the village, and taken to the chieftan, who handed the child to the only resident who could read the elven script in the message, the tribe's lead hunter.  He took the child in, and in a ceremony attended only by the chief, swore to keep the child's heritage a secret until his death, at which time the letter would be shared to the child.

Thus did Tal grow up learning the ways of a plainsmen scout, as he was never quite as big or strong as the other boys, but much sneakier and quieter.  He spent about 30 years training in the ways of the scout, but eventually it was noticed that he was much younger seeming than his contemporaries and tended to mature much slower.  This talk was suppressed by the chief of the village for about 10 years, when it finally became clear that Tal looked like he could have been the child of his younger brother, who was nearing his 40th year.  

At this point, Talinthas demanded to know the truth, and his adopted father, seeing no other choice in the matter, relented and shared the letter of origin.  Immediatly afterwards, the venerable hunter killed himself, as per the condition set during the ceremony years past. Out of shame, Tal left his home of half a century and went wandering the world, with only the medallion to remind him of his birth parents, and his hunter's dagger, bestowed upon him when he became a full fledged member of the tribe after his right of passage ceremony.

In the course of his wanderings, he returned to Sylvanesti, only to find that his birth father had been killed at the hands of his maternal grandfather, and that his mother had been cloistered in a nunnary dedicated to austerity.  Tal was turned away by his maternal family, and banished from the elven homelands as a dark elf, merely for trying to discover who he was.  

It was at this time that the Gods turned their back on Krynn.  Tal, having lost sight of his life, was aimlessly ambling northwards towards Istar, and saw the fiery mountain fall from the sky and annihliate the landscape.  Watching the destruction of the world as he knew it completely shattered any grip on sanity that this elf had.  The next 20 years were spent in a haze, as Talinthas became more and more withdrawn and desolate.

It was at this time that he began to attract the shadows.  The cataclysm caused death on such a massive scale that the souls of the innocent and guilty alike could not be separated and sent to their divine abode quickly enough.  Coupled with the complete withdrawl of divine presence, and the lack of final rites, these souls became the restless dead of krynn.  Talinthas, with his blasted mind and empty soul, started to attract the attention of these ghosts and shadows.   Some of the more aggresive spirits possesed Tal, and started him down the path of the Shadow Dancer.

The next few hundred years passed quickly, as Tal started to regain his senses and adapted to his new symbiotic relationship with these shades that hovered around him.  He searched others who were similarly affected by incredibly mind altering events, and helped them to cope with their empty souls, starting a loose group of Shadow Dancers through Ansalon.  Somewhere in there, he managed to get married a few times, and father a child or two.

Fast forwards to the War of the Lance.  Tal, now in his 450th year or so, is a venerable old elf with massive control over the spirits and shadows that reside within him.  Years of having been hunted as an evil necromancer and other such misunderstandings have left him hardened and wary of strangers.  The return of the gods has not brought him the joy that it has brought to the masses, for the newly indocrinated clergy find him to be an abomination, and try to free the spirits trapped within him by any means necessary.  The shadow dancers withdraw from the public light and hide from Gods and man alike.

Fast forwards another 30 years or so, to the cusp of the chaos war.  With minions of chaos wreaking havoc on the realms of mortals and spirits, Tal was forced to fight for the survival of his shadow dancers, and was nearly destroyed once again by a Shadow wight, at the southern edge of the Blood sea of Istar, where 392 years before a young elf witnessed the destruction of the ancient world.

Shadow wights completely erase every living thing they touch, and force them into a state of non being, deleted from even the memories of those that knew the victims.  Tal, having been buffered by the symbiotic spirts, managed to survive by shunting his shadow soul into the wight, leaving a living, but empty husk.

Once again, the retreat of the Gods was his saving grace, as the souls of the dead were completely unable to escape the mortal plane.  Tal's shell, empty of all but the smallest spark of his soul, became a nexus of mystical energy.  He lay there, on the beach of the Desolation, while the waters of the newly calmed blood sea threatened to take him away.  There he was found by Dauroth, an Ogre Mage looking for a suitable subject to test a new magical form on.  The hollow shell, coursing with just enough life and residual energy to keep functioning, was the perfect fit.

Dauroth took Tal, now known as the Shadeslayn, and proceeded to subject the elf to a ceremony granted to the ogre in a vision from his evil goddess, Takhisis.  Tal's body was charged with Spiritual energy and mystic forces, and combined with scores of ghosts and spirits who were tied to the mortal plane.  The newly fused shadow soul inhabited the body of the elf, and returned to a form of unlife never seen before.  Talinthas Shadeslayn was faster, smarter, and stronger than the elf he had once been.  Dauroth the Ogre Mage was stunned by his sucess, and immediatly took a sample of Tal's blood.  Discovering that this blood held the magical properties needed to force this magical enhancement, Dauroth took it upon himself to endure the ceremony and transform into the Ogre Titan of legend.  It was in the recovery time from this process that the multi spirit of the Shadeslayn decided to take initiative and escaped the prison of Dauroth's laboratory along the shores of the Blood Sea.  

A struggle of wills ensued, but eventually the true soul of Talinthas asserted victory and regained command.  The Shadeslayn went and recovered the remenants of his Shadow Dancers, and went into hiding, lest the Ogre Titans find him and completely drain him of his blood.  His whereabouts are currently unknown, though he is thought to be in the north east part of Ansalon, biding his time and gathering souls to him.

Appearance-
Tal is an elf of about 5'5.  The many soul drains and transfers he has endured have left him rather emaciated looking, with almost porcelin white, thinly stretched skin. However, following the ceremony by Dauroth, he has started to look a little more lively, with a fuller face and a shade darker skin.  This change has been slow to come though, as his body has had five hundred years of abuse thrust upon it.

  His hair is caught in a shoulder length pony tail, bound by an ornate clasp in the style of the tribe of his upbringing.  However, it is notable that there are two streaks of molten silver hair that start at his eyebrows and go back to the end of his hair length.

His ears are raggedly cut at the tips, a symbol of his childhood, and his eyes, once a startling hazel/green, are now completely silver, with black irises and small red pupils.  When he opens his mouth, his teeth are fanged, but as he never smiles, people hardly notice.

Around his neck is a battered coppery-green medallion impressed with the image of a Rose and Mantis, symbols of the God Majere, and only relic of Tal's birth.  His clothing reflects his profession, and is black leather meant to blend in with shadows and appear completely unobtrusive from his coat to his thick hunting boots.

Around his waist are an assortment of pouches and packs, and two weapon holsters.  One holds a blessed mace of disruption, granted to him by Majere during the Chaos war, and the other holding an ancient hunting knife dating to pre cataclysm tribes of the Plains of Dust.

However, these are all mundane things, for that which makes the Shadeslayn most noticable are the omnipresent shadows and spirits that dwell around him.  Those who are Spiritually inclined, or dabble in Necromancy, can see that there are always shades and spirts in orbit around Tal, the way an electron orbits a nucleus.  At times of trouble, Tal can gather these spirits and expel them in a damaging blast towards his enemies.  Whenever the Shadeslayn walks into an area, all incorporeal undead, restless spirits, and lost souls are immediatly attracted to his presence, so this orbit is continually renewed.  When normal, untalented people are around him, they get the eerie feeling that they are being watched, or feel a ghostly wind down their backs, or hear a faint whistle of haunted air.  When clerics attempt to determine the presence of undead, Tal glows like a beacon to them.

For the most part though, the Shadeslayn is an elf in his 500th year of his existance, with much of that time spent in extreme pain and anguish.  As such, his life view is bleak and dark, and he tends not to associate with people as much.  The soul ceremonies have granted him a form of immortality, which the tired mind of Tal craves not at all.  Some sages have likened it to the curse of Lord Soth, but worse, as Tal had done nothing to deserve this fate but be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

With the end of the War of Souls near, and the freeing of the trapped spirits, only time will tell what happens to the elf without a soul.


----------
Wow, thats kinda long.  But i guess i never actually came up with a complete background before.  Even if i dont win the contest, i'm glad for the mental excersize. =)


----------



## A'koss

Okay, one more... 

*Grenloke, the Ashen*

"Okay, so I'm a wraith-like, undead entity composed entirely of ash, but does that make me a bad person?"

- Grenloke, while being rousted by some visiting paladins new to Greyhawk City...


N(G) formerly human Fighter/Rogue/etc.. 
Age - apparant 39, actual 116 (52 of which spent dwelling in a limbo-like state on the Plane of Ash)
Height: originally 5' 11", now 6'-ish.
Weight: originally 189 lbs, now... pretty light.

Description: If you didn't know him, you'd be reaching for your holy symbol right about now... Most of the time, Grenloke likes to appear as human as possible - a 6' well-toned man wearing dark, grey-blue breeches, soft boots with norse-like wrappings, an almost midnight blue shirt with simple gold embroidery and a pair of ornate blue and gold metallic bracers that cover most of his forearms that taper to a sharp, pointed protrusion past the elbow. However the snazzy attire does little to disguise the fact that Grenloke is comprised entirely of a slightly warm-grey colored ash. He is able to alter his color slightly to give himself more "definition" as he calls it, making his "hair" and his "eyes" darker and other features (like his teeth) lighter. His surface features seem smooth, but they are constantly swirling with numerous eddies playing along it's surface. There seems to be a constant low-to-the-ground cloud of ash that follows wherever he goes which makes dusting around the office a real pain. Grenloke's shoulder-length hair just seems to stream away from his head ending in whispy trials as he moves. He does nothing to disguise his nature, relying on his reputation and disarming charm to get him through "the little foibles of life". Barring that, he's still one of the foremost fighters of his age though he always aims to disarm and disable unless the attacker is clearly evil.

Weapons: His little "accident" on the Plane of Ash destroyed most of the items he owned at the time, but one item did survive... albeit somewhat altered. He normally carries it around as a simple ashen staff with a lot of surface irregularities which reveal a dim green misty glow. In battle, he can alter it's shape into any weapon desired, though he creates an ornate, oversized glaive-like weapon. It has the power to cleave through dimensional barriers creating temporary portals with virtually pinpoint accuracy in regards to the destination.

Brief History: Grenloke is currently the proprietor of a transplanar travel service called... well, he never really gave it a name so people just ended up calling it Grenloke's Transplanar Travel Service. He and eclectic planar staff offer Safe(ish) Planar tours, Accurate Planar Portals, Search & Rescue services (pricey), Planar Travel Advice and Workshops, and so on. His office has a number of stable portals leading to places like Sigil, the Astral, the Plane of Fire and a deceptively random (and possibly intelligent) one which is locked and barred. The latter being the portal that dumped him into a divinely powered, magically abberrant region of the Plane of Ash for over 50 years and the cause of his uncurable "condition".

Though while on the surface, Grenloke treats his undeadish state as source of endless party tricks, deep down he is very concerned. There was an incident several years ago, while on a rescue mission to save a band of adventurers trapped in the Grey Waste, which ended with a pitched battle against a pack of arcanaloths. It was a desperate fight which ended with Grenloke using a power he never consciously wanted to admit his ashen form possessed - Life Draining. It was like suddenly being alive again... even more than being alive, it was like being a _*god*_. However, seeing the horror on the arcanaloth's face and the unbridled joy of the experience... he knew then what _true_ evil was.

So to this day he is haunted by the fear of losing control and becoming a true monster... and it is a fear he feels will one day be inevitable. However, he has taken steps to assure that if he does turn, that he will be resoundly dealt with. He has secretly paid a huge sum to powerful assassin's society called The Garrote to put him down should he turn to evil and is unable to do so himself. Only one memeber in his employ is aware of the deal and Grenloke has given her detailed information on himself, how he thinks, and tactical advice to give to the Garrote should the time come.



Cheers,

A'koss.


----------



## ArielManx

OK, I finally have my characters ready to post.  Please excuse some of the repetition in background (it's unavoidable for married adventurers who were childhood sweethearts...).

Here's the first one...the first character I ever created and who I have played for the past three years.


*Zorra Himar Lightshadow*

Human Female Wizard 12 NG

STR 9 DEX 13 CON 16 INT 17 WIS 17 CHA 9

Background: Vaasan in heritage and Shadowdarran in nationality, Zorra is the youngest of 5 children born to a simple farm couple near the village of Imuston in northeastern Shadowdale.  Her oldest brother was a member of the local militia during the Time of Troubles and never came home from a particularly nasty orc battle.  Zorra did her best to take Daltik's place beside her 3 surviving brothers, helping with all the chores she could.  Her parents gave her a basic but thorough education.

Zorra was just a little girl when her uncle Simon Himar, a wizard who himself had adventured across Faerun, recognized a potential for magic in her.  At the age of nine she began an apprenticeship under him.  The shy farm girl had a very hard time adjusting to town life and was terribly homesick, so Simon made arrangements with his friend Porthus Verunnay, a priestess at the Temple of Mielikki, for Zorra to meet Porthus's acolyte, Devin Lightshadow.  The two forged a fast friendship which became something more as they grew older.

The young lovers began an adventuring career on Zorra's 17th birthday (they married several months later).  Their travels brought them to Iriaebor where they became charter members of the Company of the Sunset adventuring party.  They soon found themselves enemies of the Zhentarim, friends and allies of the Harpers, and heroes of the Western Heartlands.  During their travels the party made the horrifying discovery that Zorra's "dead" brother was in fact a commander in the Zhentarim army and a Hunter of Herne (an evil ranger).  While Daltik Himar's forces were sorely defeated by the party and their allies in the town of Parnast, he escaped and Zorra has since watched for him at every turn in the road.  

The Company of the Sunset has now made their way to the Dales as they travel to the Firepeaks to meet with Gold Dwarf King Markos Silverhammer at behest of King Ashal Hammerstone, a former party member who recently reclaimed the dwarven kingdom of Hammerstone Hall with the party's help.  It would appear Zorra has returned home at just the right time, as the Dales are in need of defending from the Zhents and spider-kissing drow who would threaten to overrun to the lands…and she finds herself in the difficult position of agreeing to an alliance with worshippers of Vhaeraun in order to save her homeland.

Zorra has borne to Devin identical twin daughters, Solace and Cammara.  The twins are the Chosen of Mielikki. Solace has traveled through the Western Heartlands, across the Anauroch desert and into the Dales in an leather armor carrier on her mother's back, while Devin carried Cammara. After several frightening close calls on the journey to the Dales, Devin and Zorra have made the heart-wrenching decision to leave their toddler daughters in the protective arms of Zorra's parents (and under the watchful eyes of High Priestess Porthus Verunnay and Archmage Simon Himar) when they depart for the trail once again in the spring.

Zorra's signature spell is Magic Missile, the first spell beyond cantrips that she ever mastered.  She can prepare the spell from memory alone and can in fact spontaneously cast it.  Her first original spell is actually a more deadly version of Magic Missile, appropriately named Zorra's Magic Missile.  She also has developed the ability to prepare spells without somatics.  She is currently studying the ways of the spell chandler and hopes to soon master the art of scribing candles.

*Physical Description:* Zorra stands 6'2" and is of medium build with generous curves (especially since the birth and nursing of her daughters).  While not very strong her muscles are conditioned for stamina after years of farm labor and now nearly three years of adventuring.  She has jet black waist length hair, usually tied back in a ponytail, and dark blue eyes.  Her skin is fair but tans lightly during the summer months.  When adventuring few would guess she is powerful mage by her simple dress - a linen shirt, landshark leather jerkin, Bracers of Armor, buckskin pants, Boots of Grounding and a Cloak of Deflection.  For more formal situations Zorra wears a Robe of Stars.  Holy symbols of both Mystra and Mielikki hang around her neck, as well as a pretty and simple gold chain (actually a Necklace of Fireballs); she wears a blue feather in her hair that grants her the same low-light vision of a half-elf.  On her right hand are a Ring of Wizardry I and a mundane silver ring set with several blue gems; on her left is a wooden wedding band carved by her husband and of a slight magical nature.  She has pierced ears and usually wears gold dove-shaped earrings with ruby drops (a gift from her husband).  A Brooch of Shielding is pinned to her cloak.  Several pouches of spell components, healing herbs, coins and gems, etc, hang from her adventurer's belt.

She carries a magical spell-storing staff carved with a dragon's head, which can cast Light, Dancing Light, Shocking Grasp, and Lightning Bolt.  Strapped to her back is an iron-shod Quarterstaff of Battle for when the party's in a tight spot.  A Sling of Seeking and a +2 Light Crossbow are always within easy reach, with a mixed pouch of bullets and an assortment of bolts in a case on her belt.  Strapped to her right thigh is a silvered dagger; she carries her wands of Fireball and Magic Missile on her left.

(Other notable items: Crystal Ball of True Seeing, a hooded lantern with an Everburning Candle, Gem of Seeing, scrollcase full of arcane scrolls, seven spellbooks of various sizes spread out among backpack, saddlebags, wizard's bag, etc, scryer's kit.)

Ever at her side (and often sitting on her shoulder) is her familiar, a charcoal gray tressym named George.  She also has a light gray Cormyrian mastiff guard dog named Gustav, who she raised and trained from a pup.  Zorra is 19 years old.

*Personality:* Zorra is extremely shy and reserved, rarely speaking until spoken to, which is misinterpreted by some as snootiness.  She is always quiet and polite, almost to the point of being terse, in formal situations.  The hustle and bustle of a large city still (and likely always will) intimidate her.  Some would assume one so meek wouldn't make much of an adventuring wizard.  But Zorra is a fierce and confident battle mage, drawing strength from her strong connection to the Weave.  Many a foe has been caught by surprise when the quiet woman "hiding" behind the archers and fighters unleashes a fireball.  Her height - which she carries proudly - also tends to intimidate her enemies.  

When among those she holds near and dear to her heart, Zorra is very warm and friendly, even talkative.  She always enjoys talking to another wizard and sharing adventures.  Her husband and daughters are the shining lights of her life and she looks forward to the days of domesticity in her future when her work on the road is done.  Zorra has a deep appreciation for good food (especially sweets) and good wine or cider.  She loves the study of magic and has already created several new spells, but is just as happy being outside tending to an herb garden.  She is skilled with the healing powers of herbs, and is also a talented seamstress and chandler.


----------



## ArielManx

And my second character...who started out as a NPC in the same campaign as Zorra, but became a PC under my control about a year and a half to two years ago.


*Devin Lightshadow*

Half Gold Elf Male Cleric of Mielikki 9/Ranger 4 NG

STR 19 DEX 16 CON 17 INT 10 WIS 21 CHA 14

*Background:* Devin was the third child born to a gold elf mother and a human father (who, though Devin does not know this, was a Barbarian of the Ride with a bit of wood elf blood). His childhood was shattered during the Time of Troubles when a raiding Zhentarim force on Shadowdale killed his parents, brother and sister as they tried to defend their forest home.  After three long weeks alone in his family's cabin in the forests northwest of Shadowdale Town (the events of that time, Devin has blocked from his memory) Devin was rescued by Porthus Verunnay, a priestess of Mielikki from Imuston in northeastern Shadowdale.  Porthus took Devin back to her temple and raised him as her own.  

Devin knows little of his family history.  He does know that his mother was raised near the High Dale, met his father at The Dancing Place, and was disowned by her entire elven community for marrying the human.  The pain of being so shunned affected her deeply, and she spoke nothing of the elves to her children, and never again uttered a single word of the Elvish language.  (And despite several years of adventuring with other elves and half-elves, Devin still has virtually no understanding of the tongue.)  He knows even less of his father's past.

Porthus trained Devin in the ways of the ranger to supplement his divine studies.  Devin had had very little in the way of an education before he came to the temple, and his lessons were always hard for him, so he welcomed the easy hands-on learning of ranger training.  When Devin was 12 years old he met Zorra Himar, who was apprenticing with her uncle, the town wizard.  The two forged a fast friendship which became something more as they grew older.

Devin was granted his first divine spells during his 17th year, and around the same time came to the realization that Zorra was the woman he would spend all of his days with.  But he decided to wait to propose marriage until they were a little older and had something to live on besides love.

The young lovers began an adventuring career on Zorra's 17th birthday (they married several months later).  Their travels brought them to Iriaebor where they became charter members of the Company of the Sunset adventuring party.  They soon found themselves enemies of the Zhentarim, friends and allies of the Harpers, and heroes of the Western Heartlands.  The discovery of the true fate of Zorra's brother - a Hunter of Herne within the Zhentarim ranks - has left Devin with an ache in his heart.  The Zhentarim are his avowed enemy, and followers of Herne are enemies of the Lady…but if the chance comes, he wonders if he will have the emotional strength to take down his wife's brother.  

The Lady of Silverymoon herself asked Devin to join the Harpers, much to his surprise. A friend and High Harper, Ali Huzzah, now travels with the party, and Devin can't help but wonder if part of reason Ali has temporarily joined the party is to keep an eye on him.  

The Company of the Sunset has now made their way to the Dales as they travel to the Firepeaks to meet with Gold Dwarf King Markos Silverhammer at behest of King Ashal Hammerstone, a former party member who recently reclaimed the dwarven kingdom of Hammerstone Hall with the party's help. It would appear Devin has returned home at just the right time, as the Dales are in need of defending from the Zhents and spider-kissing drow who would threaten to overrun to the lands…and he finds himself in the difficult position of agreeing to an alliance with worshippers of Vhaeraun in order to save his homeland.

Devin has built three shrines to Mielikki in the Western Heartlands, and restored two that were battle-ravaged to their rightful glory.  Under his tutelage two rangers turned to the priesthood.  Along the adventuring trail, the Lady of the Forest came to Devin in a dream and decreed that he and Zorra would conceive her Chosen.  Nine months later Zorra bore him twin daughters, Solace and Cammara.  Cammara has traveled through the Western Heartlands, across the Anauroch desert and into the Dales in an leather armor carrier on her father's back, while Zorra carried Solace.  After several frightening close calls on the journey to the Dales, Devin and Zorra have made the heart-wrenching decision to leave their toddler daughters in the protective arms of Zorra's parents (and under the watchful eyes of High Priestess Porthus Verunnay and Archmage Simon Himar) when they depart for the trail once again in the spring.

*Physical Description:* Devin is unusually large for a half-elf, obviously taking after his human father.  He stands 6'6" tall and is 235 lb. of solid lean muscle.  His elven heritage is evident, though, in his distinctive elvish facial features (and ears as pointed as any full-blooded elf), golden tanned skin, and green eyes flecked with gold.  His hair is a bright golden blond, worn shoulder length, with a braid near each ear.  During the winter he grows a sparse beard.  His typical adventuring dress is magical leather scale armor with the holy symbol of Mielikki tooled onto the breastplate, Gauntlets of Ogre Power, a Cloak of Deflection, Boots of Elvenkind, and a woodsman's cap.  (He owns clerical vestments for formal occasions.) His left ear is pierced with a platinum hoop.  On his left hand is a gold wedding band etched with leaves (and of slight magical nature), on his right is a Ring of Protection.  He wears a Periapt of Wisdom about his neck along with a silver holy symbol of Mielikki.  (Also in his possession is a Torc of Animal Speech, which he trades for the Periapt when needed.)  After several months of keeping it hidden, Devin now proudly and openly wears a Lesser Harper Pin on his cloak.  Several pouches hang from his belt, holding healing herbs, assorted potions and holy water, and his pipe and pipeweed (which he rarely smokes outside of the winter months).

Ever present in his left hand is Daervon's Revenge, a magical composite longbow Devin crafted himself and named after his murdered father.  The bow has a unicorn's head carved at each end and the handhold is detailed with roses and ivy.  Mielikki blessed the bow with several magical powers, and it is especially deadly against Zhentarim.  He wears a magical buckler shield.  His primary melee weapons are the longsword Black Dragon Bane and a +2 Flaming Dire Flail which has not yet earned a name.  A +1 Dagger is strapped to his right thigh, and a Wand of Neutralize Poison to his left.  He has several quivers with an assortment of magical and mundane arrows.

(Other notable items: Decanter of Endless Water, Bag of Holding, censer and aspergil, scrollcase full of divine scrolls, Arrow of Greater Slaying - Iron Golem.)

Devin has two animal followers, a red tiger named Giselle and an Elven Cat (Cathshee) named Cheshire.  He also has a very deep bond with his riding mare, Ashes (for whom he has purchased Horseshoes of Speed), and his companions often refer to him as "The Horse Whisperer".   He is 22 years old.

*Personality:* A reluctant leader who prefers the roles of party scout and healer, Devin nonetheless realizes that his companions look to his wisdom for answers and he does his best to live up to their expectations.  He takes seriously and approaches with enthusiasm his place in the clergy of Mielikki, as well as his new rank among Those Who Harp.  He is a deadly foe in battle, especially against the Zhentarim, whom he has vowed vengeance upon for the tragedy and heartache they have brought to his family and Zorra's. His wife and daughters are the greatest loves of his life and he does not hesitate to put his own life in danger to protect them.

Wise beyond his years, Devin is friendly and charming.  He is often quiet in conversation, preferring to listen than to participate.  Though he has ever struggled with traditional book learning, he does enjoy reading and is well-versed in many topics through experience.  He finds the wonders and opportunities of a city interesting and even fun at times, but greatly prefers the wild open of the trail.  He enjoys good food and good drink, but neither to excess.  He is a skilled bowyer/fletcher, and is a talented woodcarver - a connection to his late father, who was a woodworker by trade.


----------



## PA

*1 post, 3 entries — COMMENTS WELCOME!!*

The Rootcrow Theatre Company is composed of three core members: Luthanel, Brisemur and Élisandre. They travel together in a worn-out wagon pulled by two donkeys, to display their talents from villages to towns, from towns to cities, and sometimes on the side of busy roads.


*HOW IT ALL BEGAN:*


Luth and Brisemur are orphans — an all-too-common occurrence among adventurers, and even more among half-breds. Neither knows but rumors about his parents. Luthanel received his name from the hooker who raised him to replace and support her in her old age. Since, as a half-elf, he was aging quite slower than the woman, he was still a kid when he decided it was time for him to depart. With not so much as a good-bye, the ungrateful brat left when everyone else slept, in the middle of the day.

He did not stop before reaching the next town. As it happened, it was a city of some wealth, for a share of which Luth began to beg. Being a cute child, with a cute smile, and still rather clean, he proved successful enough to buy his first meal. Soon thereafter, two delegates of the local guild of beggars came to “invite” him to their headquarters, where he was slapped back to consciousness.

With a whorehouse for home, Luth had spent his nights wandering the streets so his mother and many aunts could work. He knew the rule out there: wherever an underworld “guild” exists, even just begging without its benediction is a no-no. Of course, he also knew enough not to brag about his being street-savvy. He pled ignorance. He started to weave an incredible tale regarding his rich father and mean stepmother, that kept the whole audience quiet until he was out of breath, and maybe half out of ideas.

The first reaction, after a pause, was a huge laugh, coming from the middle-aged man sat beside the guildmaster. This laugh was followed by many others, merging into a thunderous roar. When the last wave quieted down, Luth could not decide if he was alive or not. But he was, and soon a bard’s apprentice for the middle-aged man.

It is in the course of those years of learning that Luth met Brisemur. One night, hearing a commotion, his natural curiosity drove him close enough to witness a group of street toughs trampling on a form on the ground, shouting “half-bred” and “bastard” the whole time. He reacted as if the insults had been directed to him: he leapt out of the shadows right into the fray, first punching two surprised bullies away from their prey, soon being punched in turn, then kicked when he fell down.

The next surprise came from the first victim. While Brisemur had let the thugs waste their shoes on his tough hide, he could not agree with their hurting someone who had come to his rescue. He stood up. He was awfully tall. He was awfully big. At first, the bullies sníggered nervously, then they tried to resume their beating and they met with a wall. They met with a wall with fists, who answered back, pummeling them into a headlong flight. In an instant, Brisemur alone was standing, Luth half-conscious behind him.

Brisemur took care of the half-elf, carrying him back to his abode: a temple he had dedicated to the god who had helped him – a half-orc in a human city – to survive all those years. Brisemur was a self-proclaimed cleric of Olidammara, whose converts were mainly street urchins whom he protected, and sometimes healed through non-magical means. What skills he had, he had learnt from other social rejects, members of this “guild of beggars” also known as a guild of thieves.

Even then, never had he been really accepted, and that too linked him to Luth. If few people had the knowledge to recognize a half-drow in the bard’s apprentice, his appearance was alien enough to elicit suspicion in most parts of the city, even among its outcasts. Being naturally charming and witty, the kid had soon learnt to compensate and gather people around him, yet until Brisemur, he had never trusted anyone but his mentor; until Brisemur, he had never had a friend.

With his mentor gone on some adventure, Luth decided it was also time for him to leave the city. Brisemur left with his friend like it was the most natural thing in the world. They gathered their meager possessions one morning and departed. They became wandering entertainers, Luth with his wits and Brisemur his strength. With some practice, they also became acceptable comedians, rehearsing new roles while walking between towns and villages. When it would not feed them, they also accepted odd jobs; they became “adventurers” and, in the eyes of some, heroes.

Still, for most people, the half-breds were better kept at a distance. While Brisemur lacked in social graces, Luth’s exotic charm made him the fear of fathers everywhere. The pair happily kept on the move, now more comfortably as a wagon had been the reward of their oddest job to date. Only once did they part, and then not for very long: Luth had learnt that elves lived in a nearby forest and, always curious about his non-human legacy, he had set his mind on paying them a visit.

Brisemur did not like the idea; he did not like elves, or rather, he knew all too well that elves liked him even less than did humans. They decided to meet two weeks later: Brisemur would wait in the wagon, letting his friend pursue on foot.

To pretend that Luth received a warm welcome would be an exaggeration, but the elves finally let him stay one night among them. He was housed by their ruling family, sun elves whose grace and knowledge the half-bred could not but admire. Still, he began to feel that what kindness he was shown was painfully close to pity, a sting he could not stand. At dawn, he had already left, with due thanks to his hosts.

On his way back to the edge of the forest, he became aware of being watched. At first, it did not surprise him. Only when the stalker followed him in the open did he feel it was odd. When he turned around and discovered who had been in his steps, he thought he was seeing his death. The young daughter of the family who had welcomed him was standing there, her hand on the last tree, looking at him questioningly.

Abduction. He was going to serve as practice target for elven arrows. Could he run away? As if reading his mind, she had already taken a step toward him. Controlling his first impulse to back up, he let the maiden get closer. The archers would not dare shooting if there was a risk of hurting her. Would they? She was facing him now and explaining how his tales had moved her, how much she wished to discover the world. When he mentioned her parents, she claimed they had no right to restrain her, that she was of age and free, as any elf should be free to choose their own path.

Yeah, sure. Luth bowed, smiled and agreed. He invited her to follow him to his wagon, where his companion was waiting. She hurried by his side. The half-elf called for Brisemur, who slowly extracted himself from the wagon. The elven maiden missed a heartbeat, her eyes suddenly wide open. Then she passed Luth and, curtseying in front of his friend, presented herself: “I have for name Élisandre, and it is my pleasure to meet you.”

Luth made a bet with Brisemur that their princess would leave within a month, or would beg to be brought back to her parents. One month later, the half-orc was ten silvers richer. The whole little troupe was more in funds, though, as the exquisite Élisandre added to its luster. And she had more to offer.

She had felt estranged all her life because magic, which was a subject of study for her kind, was for her a natural talent… that she did not control all that well. Luth found a way for her to gain this control, when he suggested that she copied the wizards in her family, using the same gestures and material components. The weird part is when Luth found that he could, also going through the same motions and using the same props, cast spells too.

What she was to magic, he was to acting: they both had a Gift. As for Brisemur, he had been blessed in another way: one day, after a nasty battle that had left Élisandre bleeding on the ground, unconscious, the half-orc had thrown a tantrum, calling to Olidammara and even insulting the god, until this one answered and made a miracle, curing the elven maiden completely.

In a glow of holy light, and the echo of a laugher, the small troupe had been granted a cleric.


*THE CAST:*


*Luthanel*

CG half-elf, bard 1. Str 12 Dex 14 Con 14 Int 16 Wis 8 Cha 15. *Feat:* Improved Initiative. *Skills:* Bluff 4 (6), Concentration 4 (6), Diplomacy 4 (8), Disguise 4 (6), Gather Information 4 (8), Listen 4 (3), Perform: staging 4 (6), Sense Motive 4 (3), Tumble 4 (6). *Spells:* 0- Detect Magic, Mage Hand, Prestidigitation, Read Magic.

Luth walks the world with the grace of a dancer, with the sparkling fluidity of a cat. His almond-shaped eyes light a dark blue fire under a bush of white hair, dense and soft as fur, while his feline smile is made even more dazzling from the swarthiness of his beardless skin. Naked, his long limbs and leanness make him look taller than he really is; of course, most people never see him but in costumes or in his traveler’s outfit: a patchwork of materials gathered during his wanderings, nearly a wearable logbook.

In his mid-twenties, Luth still comes across as a teenager playing the part of an adult. He exudes self-confidence; his ready smiles and exotic looks never cease to intrigue the fair sex. Still, in spite of his treating the ladies with what many call undue familiarity, he stays inexperienced. Only Brisemur, who knows about his friend having been raised in a whorehouse (from a time they brought some money to Luth’s foster mother), has an inkling of how the half-elf feels in the presence of women: while he treasures their company, he is wary of those who show too much interest in him, and even more of the few he finds himself attracted to.

In spite of that, he seems unable not to be charming, a talent that saved his life a tad more often that it got him into trouble. He is especially fascinating when spinning out tall tales, which he often acts out with his comrades. Should you believe Brisemur and Élisandre, his talent for staging is such as to border to magic, expanding beyond the boards even to the battlefield.


*Élisandre*

CG elf, sorcerer 1. Str 6 Dex 15 Con 11 Int 12 Wis 10 Cha 18. *Feat:* Skill Focus (Craft: illusions). *Skills:* Bluff 1 (5), Concentration 4 (4), Craft: illusions 4 (8), Knowledge: arcana 1 (2), Spellcraft 2 (3). *Spells:* 0- Detect Magic, Flare, Mage Hand, Prestidigitation, Read Magic. 1- Mage Armor, Magic Missile, Shield, Silent Image.

A smile of Élisandre’s is like the break of dawn, like a flower opening after the rain. Supple as a reed, and just as frail, she is never happier than when she can share her love for life. Though many have felt love for her, for this unsettling mixture of childlike enthusiasm and long life, she has never answered sigh for sigh. She looks everyone straight in the eyes, with a disarming frankness.

Only the wind is her avowed lover, when it makes a banner of her pale golden hair. When it kisses her brow, she drinks it into her violet eyes and it seems that the whole world is suddenly brighter. Élisandre likes to wear clothes that flow easily; she favors colors you can find in a natural environment, with a predilection for the lighter hues.

Is she still a child? She may look even younger than Luth but Élisandre has matured quite a bit since she joined the half-elf and his half-orc friend. Though barely past her first century, she has seen more of the world than any of her older cousins. She has begun using Silent Image to express her feelings artistically, and as she gains experience – and access to better Illusion spells – her talent may outgrow the little troupe.

In the meantime, she is a vital part of it. She even christened the company, from the picture of a crow holding a root in its claws, on the side of their wagon. She also found this one to be magical, but she still lacks the ability to pierce its secrets.


*Brisemur*

CG half-orc, cleric 1. Str 19 Dex 10 Con 16 Int 7 Wis 15 Cha 8. *Feat:* Martial Weapon Proficiency (greatsword). *Skills:* Bluff 1 (0), Concentration 1 (4), Heal 1 (3), Knowledge: religion 1 (-1). *Domains:* Luck, Trickery.

While younger than his two comrades, Brisemur looks the oldest and also acts the part. If he seems sullen, it is only that, aware of being a lousy speaker, he prefers to listen and ponder. He knows enough to welcome the many pleasures of life, if seldom the same as Élisandre. Still, does he have feelings for the elven maiden? Luth has sometimes thought so, but for once his intuition failed him: Brisemur sees Élisandre as a flower to be preserved, maybe as a younger sister. For lovers, he prefers women who will not break in his arms. Contrary to Luth, he gets his share of sexual bliss — with the occasional bold lady, less afraid of his looks than attracted to his muscles or more subtle qualities.

Brisemur is _big_: big hands, big arms, big chest, and a big big heart beating under his tough hide. You will always find him siding with the underdogs, with a religious devotion he ties to the “laughing rogue”: before even Luth and Élisandre, for whom he would lay his life, he has Olidammara as his best friend, if an unreliable one.

The god’s weapon of choice is the rapier; when the half-orc proved unable to wield effectively the puny weapon, he picked up a greatsword instead and named it “Rapier”. For lack of better, he currently wears as armor the hides of beasts that proved stupid enough to prey on him. His overall look is more that of a barbarian warrior than of a cleric, but his god himself being deceptive, the fact does not bother Brisemur.


*COMMENTS WELCOME!!*


----------



## Kai Lord

Well, I've chosen my 20 favorites.  Whew!  But have no fear, the contest will be open to submissions until August 1st.  That's when I'm sending the 20 to Todd of which he will choose his favorite 10.  Any new entries between now and then will be judged against the 20 I've already chosen.

As promised, I am posting two additional semifinalists, guaranteed to be in the top 20, regardless of what new entries arrive.  So in actuality all new entries will be judged against the 16 I've chosen but am keeping secret.

The next two characters locked into the semifinals are:

*Arianna Flamelocks*

and

*Lord Ardel Varn*

 

Congratulations!  Todd _will_ be reading these two characters! There are so many great entries, I can't wait to see who wins.  In roughly 30 days I send the semifinalists to Todd!  On August 26th the 10 he chooses will be posted in this forum and a poll will be open for three days for you all to pick your favorite.  That day draws ever closer!  Good luck!


----------



## PA

*Just to be sure...*

The fact that I had three entries in one post didn't play against me, did it? Each character has a separate description, even if they share a same backstory (since they're from a same party).

Luth, Élisandre and Brisemur compete separately: I remember the "only one character per entry" rule and didn't mean for the three of them to get into the fray as a group. I can cut my post into three, if it makes it clearer.


----------



## Angcuru

Oh, geez!  I better hurry up with mine!


----------



## Robbert Raets

Angcuru said:
			
		

> *Oh, geez!  I better hurry up with mine! *




Me too.


----------



## Kai Lord

*Re: Just to be sure...*



			
				PA said:
			
		

> *The fact that I had three entries in one post didn't play against me, did it?*



Nope.


----------



## PA

*OK!*



			
				Kai Lord said:
			
		

> *
> Nope.   *




Thanks.  I can only wait, now...


----------



## talinthas

this is so exciting! =)

Lockwood is my fave fantasy artist.  I met him at gencon and had him sketch raistlin for me.  it rocks =)


----------



## Hecabus

*Hecabus*

Name
Hecabus (aka El'rohir)

Formal Title
El’rohir of the Clan Tanaka, Epic Lord of Hellfire & the 7th Ring, Slayer of 1,000,000 Vampires, The Prince of Happy Darkness, Follower and High Priest of the One Untrue God, Weasel God, Death Reincarnate, Strifebringer, Trickster, Duke of the Rising Sun, Keeper of the East Gate, Hero of the Gnoll Uprising, Wishburner, Firebrand, Defender of the Realm, Scion of Justice, Chaosmarque, Chief Executioner of the King, Wyrm Destroyer, Alien Gouger, Liebearer, Tamer of Giants, Honorary Jester of the Realm, Royal Pain & Foot Stomper of Opposition

30th level (Fighter 4/ Sorcerer 12 / Chosen of Loki 1/ Arcane Devotee 5 / Archmage 3 / Eldritch Master 5)
Race: Vampiric Ogre Magi (not my fault, I inherited the character)
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral (but borders on Chaotic Good)

Appearance
Hecabus stands 10’8” tall and 673 lbs., which is large even for an Ogre magi, and is only 124 years old (23 for eternity).  His light green skin contrast sharply with his long dark blue hair and the small ebony horns that protrude from his forehead.  His eyes are a deep blood red with strikingly white pupils with a childlike sparkle to them, his double-fanged teeth and claws are jet black.  Hecabus does not look as feral, wart-covered or unkempt as a normal Ogre Magi even in his natural form.  As natural shapeshifters, Ogre Magi look as they truly believe they should, but presumably due to his elvish upbringing and the inherent vanity that entails, Hecabus natural form is very elegant and attractive.

Hecabus favors loose, comfortable clothing, rarely wearing armour any more.  He and is especially fond of very well made silk clothing cut in the latest oriental styles.  Disarmingly, no matter what is going on his clothes are always pristinely clean. He is also fond of oriental weaponry and is usually armed with a Katana and dagger or a Naginata.

Hecabus has a Huge War Bat as a familiar (was a regular bat, but due to an epic level fight in a wild magic zone, he was permanently changed).  Desmo is a cute looking bat.....that just happens to be big enough for Hecabus to right.  He has a magic necklace and ring that allow him to live inside of a bag of holding when not needed.

Personality 
Hecabus is the consummate trickster, and therefore a very devout follower of Loki, well as devout as followers of Loki get.  He very rarely takes anything but the village and his “family” seriously and is almost always sarcastic.  On the few occasions that he is not being sarcastic he is probably being cynical, sardonic or just flat out lying.

His sense of humor as only gotten wilder  since he found out his true heritage and realized that his entire life has been a lie and his time spent in the Abyss has certainly made his pranks more elaborate.  It is not uncommon to find Hecabus mocking his companions, demanding to be called by one of his many aliases, creating illusions of imagined dangers and talking to his weapons as if they were sentient.

The natural abilities of an Ogre Magi and those of a vampire work very well for tricking people, and more importantly protecting oneself when confronted by the subject of a joke, and Hecabus knows it.

Hecabus personality is split, much like the duality in his past.  Although people are scared of his Ogre Magi form, most people have found Hecabus to be a caring and inspirational leader of a new religious movement with a wonderful sense of humor.  Conversely, in his more acceptable elven form (he still uses the name of El’rohir for this form) is feared as the deadly enforcer that helped put a king on the throne and is often rumored to be the real power (which is not true, King Kain is much more powerful).  The fact that he is a vampire is generally unknown and certainly his true generation is unknown.

Hecabus is extremely loyal to his followers, friends and the village in which he was raised, but will turn on any who betrays him or is in his way very quickly.

History
El’rohir was raised by elves, when his parents where slain in battle.  His new parents enspelled him to look like a elf.  El’rohir  knew he was different as he was bigger than the other kids in his village and he grew faster and stronger every year.  Near his 20th birthday, the village elders tasked him and a group of the most powerful children to investigate a series of dire portents.  As he started adventuring, more of his racial powers started to show.  He soon learned that he could regenerate, fly, turn gaseous and create darkness at will.....it was obvious that he was some weird vampire highbred.  Not much later, a vampire asked if he would like to join his clan and he readily agreed.  After his rebirth, El’rohir was told that he was actually an Ogre Magi and that his entire previous life had been a lie.  Angry, he turned away from his village and friends, deciding to help the fledgling General Kain set up a new kingdom.

After a year or so, El’rohir came to grips with his former life and decided to rejoin the group from the village.  The newly crowned King Kain asked El’rohir to complete one last mission which he accepted.  This mission went horribly wrong, leaving El’rohir stranded in the Abyss, possessed by an imp.  Months later, after freeing himself from the possession and killing the demons that tried to subjugate him.  With no way back from the Abyss the creature now known as Hecabus continued to adventure, bringing his own form of justice and chaos, until he heard a voice he had not heard in several years.  The voice was one of the members of the group he had  left the village with.  Shalington, the monkish mage had tried summoning a impish familiar, instead his summons was answered by Hecabus in the form of an imp.

This charade lasted for weeks as Hecabus teased, tormented and tricked his friends.  Pulling unbelievable pranks and confusing his childhood friends.  This cumulated with the “imp” out-drinking and out-gambling the hill giant chieftan, stripping the queen and humiliating the fire giant advisor.  Naturally, the band of adventurers had to run as the hill giants attacked.  After enduring hours of griping at the hands of his “master” and the remaining party-members that hadn’t been captured, Hecabus boldly told the group that he would singly handedly save the party members and destroy the giants, which he did.  Unfortunately, this display of sheer power clued the party into Hecabus’ former identity and his ruse was over.

During his new travels, Hecabus heard of a little known trickster god named Loki.  The more Hecabus researched the more he began to follow the tenets of Loki, eventually the party (ok, Hecabus and Crowe the halfling Loremaster carrying the burned and charred remains of the rest of the party) stumbled onto a portal to Asgard and Hecabus used this opportunity to try and meet Loki.  Although, he did not gain a direct audience with Loki, his persistence, power, ability to trick the god’s staff and lyrical poetry (written in his own blood on his own skin) impressed the god.  Loki burned his mark into Hecabus arm so that he could watch his growth.

Since being marked by his god, Hecabus has steadily acquired more power and pained beings with his wit.  He has captured one tower and helped build a tower with his companions, he has single handedly taken control of an onclave of Fire Giants, destroyed a drowish invasion started by Lloth and a drowish temple, established a large city of sentient ferrets that worship him, grown the church of Loki considerably, destroyed an economy and rebuilt it in a week and more.  His biggest moment was destroying all other vampires on the planet and sending himself into torpor in order to stop the drow backed vampire invasion of the planet.  This act not only saved the planet but led to the events that has allowed him to become a demi god.  Upon his the recovery of his body from underneath a destroyed mansion where he sacrificed himself, his body was interred at the site of the first church he built to Loki.  People from all over have made a pilgrimage to his tomb,  a crystal casket with special censors, where people could give an offering of their blood so Hecabus can live again. 

Personality.

Accomplishments
Used a dead face hugger (yes from the movie Alien) to convince the party that the 3 characters had been infected by chest bursters, resulting in the monk and cleric taking turns swallowing poison to try and kill the creature and the fighter letting the druid knock him out and operate on him.  No anesthia, no skill, no alien.  It was great.  Unfortunately, the DM let the guys off the hook before I got really mean!
Killed 1,000,000 vampires in one round.
Became a Demigod seeking true god-hood.
Bluffed a CR 43 Red Dragon 6 times before helping to slay the beast (was 30th level at the time and kept winning the contested rolls..... “Portal maintenance”).
Created a race of sentient and intelligent Ferrets (aka Thunder Rats).
Tricked the rich people of a major city to gamble away all their money and then gave the money (some 100,000 gp to the poor of the city).
Opened several part illusionary brothels (no diseases and no labor) and gambling halls in Loki’s name.
Angered Lloth several times and walked away from it.
Conquered a Fire Giant city in less than 24 hours.

Campaign Notes
The campaign started in 2ed and has run about 8 of the last 10 years.  I took over the character when he was in the Abyss, I really thought at first that I was going to be playing this guys familiar until the DM handed me the character sheet and told me what character I really had.  The Ogre Magi part of the character was a DM hose on the original player, who was not told until he became a vampire.  This character is a horrible munchkin character as the DM didn’t make me pay the levels for his race or the vampire template because he didn’t think it was fair.

The campaign includes a large part of White Wolf’s World of Darkness (Vampire clans, werewolves, etc.) and creatures from movies such Predator and Aliens.  Although it may sound a bit silly, the game was very straight laced before I started meddling.

Known Alias
Anagogic, Bucky, Bloahar, Camm, Captain Flambea, Celerslahan, Charizesthai, Count Orlok, Dauthi, Desmodon T’dae, Deyja, Elaia Branca, Erythos Ops, Faerfyr, Fangzand, Garchaion, Gebrunkel, Gomabathys, Impian, Konoskalt, Locian Regula, Marskilen, Max Schreck, Mustela, Nonothian, Novidere, Nutbasher, Pimp Daddy Tricky, Praylean, Priest Chance DeLuc, Professor Feign, Pyre, Rot Ouga, Ruse Canis, Sciftan, Suicara, Volgus,  Strife, Swert, Smaralda Fla, Tricari, Wysard Magus


----------



## Elchaim

*Better late then never*

First off, thank you Kai Lord! It’s been a blast reading through all the different entries and getting to know everyone characters. 

	Now on to my entry… A friend of mine, a born again gamer, has recently thrown together an impressive character sketch that I thought was worthy of a professional artists attention. Of course, I’ll let everyone else be the judge of that…  

QAYATH-OTUPH-IBN-PHYK

By all outward appearances, Qayath-Otuph-ibn-Phyk is a healthy young adult, of no more than thirty years, with piercing dark eyes that hint at the truth of his centuries of service at the side of Red Wizard Masters.  
	This monk stands six feet tall and has a medium build.  To the trained eye he presents the perfect balance between strength and agility like a great predatory cat.  Qayath is a human of mixed Rashemi / Mulani heritage and bears the dark skin and features so common in the East.  His face is remarkable for its deep set eyes, aquiline nose, and a strong cleft chin.  His face is free from any scars or hair.  The monk is completely bald, including an absence of eyebrows.
	Qayath’s single most outstanding feature is the Blood Bond Tattoo which covers his head entirely; a few tendrils of bleeding fire even reach beyond his neck.  The colors are those of blood and flame; reds, oranges, and yellows with red the most prevalent.  This tattoo was scribed on the top of his skull more than two centuries ago and has been slowly burning its way down to the bone and over the whole of his head.  It is as though his masters had placed a volcano inside of him and the eldritch lava has been flowing downward to consume him ever since.  Despite the look of volcanic lava, the tattoo has not marred the skin any more than a mundane tattoo would.
	Qayath wears an Amulet of Epic Blows around his neck.  It is set in a V-shaped collar piece of ebony and ochre that suggests Kossuth’s fire.  The amulet itself is fashioned in the likeness of an exploding meteor.  Since fleeing Thay, the monk has taken to wearing simple looking garments.  He wears a Tunic fashioned of a heavy, coarse weave that is oatmeal in color.  The tunic has an open collar and modest V-neck with light draw strings.  There is a deceivingly simple rope belt tied around his waist.  Qayath also wears a small open vest over the tunic that is embroidered with intricate patterns in the style of the East.  The colors are a blend of black, burgundy, and several earth tones.  Its quality and design suggest the modest prosperity of a more fortunate commoner.  This human also wears a pair of weathered, brown leather bracers laced to his forearms; the leather is covered in ancient glyphs of flame. 
	The monk wears a pair of weathered, fingerless gloves that are tan in color with an open weave and brown leather palms.  His legs are covered by dark colored, loose fitting breeches that are suitable for adventuring and give him the freedom of movement needed for unarmed combat.  His feet are protected by sandals that are nothing more than two semi-rigid soles and two long, wide silken straps that are used to bind the soles to the feet and tie around the lower calf.

As you can read, my friend has, quite enthusiastically, embraced the hobby once again. I’m sure he would greatly appreciate an artist’s rendition of his current character (of course, wouldn’t we all). Thanks again Kai Lord!


----------



## Sonikal

*Yoko Shadowstag*
*Class:* Rogue 4/Sorceror 1
*Age:* 16
*Race:* Goblin (with shadow heritage)
*Alignment:* Neutral Good
*Height:* 2'4
She is basicly a gothic Goblin girl, pale-white skin, very pretty for a Goblin. She has deep, black mysterious eyes, and a small pair of fangs jut from her top lip rather than from the bottom lip like most Goblins. She has black hair in short ponytails. She wears deep plum lipstick and nail varnish on her toe and finger-nails, and a necklace with Olidammara's symbol on it. She wears a black crop-top that show her shoulders, and a short black, leather skirt that has lace where her hips are. 
Her personality is friendly and alluring, and very seductive. She is charismatic and sexy and doesn't mind showing it. She also has a mysterious side to her, as she has shadow-blood in her heritage. This means that her eyes are shiny and pure black, and her shadow seems larger and more ogre-like in shape. This is infact a large sized shadow that she has befriended, and it protects her.
She wields a composite shortbow and a kukri dagger inscribed with an image of a shadow-mastiff.

A guy named Origami_Ninja did this for her. Very pretty in a goblinoid sort of way...


----------



## Kae'Yoss

Well, another of mine. For the Stats, you can go here:
http://3ep.rpgprofiler.net/3ep/public.php?c=AntarosDlardrageth

He's a fey'ri rogue (becoming assassin soon)
The tricky part: since he cannot run around in his natural form, he is practically always disguised. He has one "cover identity" which he has used for some time now (and I intend to use it the rest of the campaign). That's the one he uses most of the time, though he uses other guises as appropriate: Mostly humans with different "occupations", but he used one or two monsters to help him getting answers.

His Name is Antares Dlardrageth, and his alias is Antar Nimesin.
Let's describe Antar first:

Antar is a very handsome Gold Elf. He's 195 years - adult for some time, but still a couple of decades away from middle age (of course, such things are hard to tell with elves, and with gold elves even less since they get older than others). He stands 5'6" tall and weights 110 lbs. His eyes are golden, his hair is black, and his skin is bronce.
He moves cracefully and nimbly, and his looks (and his social skills) get him what he wants even though he's a little arrogant (like most gold elves). He is usually friendly towards other people, and is seen smiling most of the time (but not in the way of the stupid). His demeanor can be described as "rakish", the real swashbuckler.
When he fights, he usually uses his Rapier and has a buckler strapped to his left arm, but he also carries a composite short bow (as well as several other weapons which he doesn't wear openly). He usually wears a mithral shirt over his fine clothes.

His true form looks like Antar, seen in a dark mirror:
Though he retains his general stature, the changes are obvious: His golden eyes turn a fiery red and appear to glow, and his skin's color changes to a deep red. In this form his large, batlike wings and his long, pointed tail appears, which usually sways the way a feral cat's does. His appearance, including his smile (which seemed pleasent to others, and often enough dazzling to females of most races) warps to a menacing, demoning one (even they don't actually change).
He shows his true form only very rarely, and usually to strike fear into a quarry's heart, shortly before he moves in for the kill. If he's out to "hunt" women, he uses his incubus-like looks to best advantage, and his looks and pose becomes few women can withstand.

(Maybe a picture with Antar in the front, in a typical swashbuckler pose, with his true face in the background)


----------



## Steverooo

_


----------



## Kai Lord

Well folks, it is *FINALLY* almost time for me to send the top 20 entires to Todd!  I'm sending them this Friday, August 1st, which means no entries will be considered that are posted after Thursday.  If you have a character you want to submit, don't delay!

As for the posting of the Final Ten chosen by Todd, I have moved the date from August 26th to Friday, August 15th.  Not much longer now, good luck!


----------



## Lalato

*Sanjay Madragupti*

Well...  Monte Cook's Arcana Unearthed is released today.  My group is going to be playing with AU grafted onto the forthcoming Mindshadows setting from Green Ronin.

So basically, we're talking about Mythical India with the AU classes and races.  On top of that we are using the Psionics handbook to represent a new religious movement (insert Buddhism here).

I'm saying all of that so I can introduce the character I have been playing for the last several weeks...  Sanjay Madragupti

Sanjay is Ranger/Psychic Warrior for now.  I'll be converting him tonight to  AU...  most likely Totem Warrior/Psychic Warrior.  Sanjay stands 5'11" has dark skin, black eye and hair (like most people from the Indian sub-continent).

Sanjay is a two-weapon fighter and he uses two curved short swords.  One of them is know is known as "The Touch of the Midnight Blessing"  It is blue-black in color.

Sanjay wears a Chain Shirt with fine silk material covering the rest.  Being a Psychic Warrior, Sanjay has various Psychic tattoos on his body.

Here's a link to Sanjay's character sheet...

http://3ep.rpgprofiler.net/3ep/public.php?c=Sanjay

Here's the history I provided for Sanjay to my DM...



> Enter Stage Right... Sanjay Madragupti... A wiry young man with a ready smile. His life has been a series of lucky coincidences. It seems that by kismet or luck he is destined to fall on his feet. Ahhh... but if he falls again can he trust his new companions to catch him? We shall see... we shall see...
> 
> Indrani was only a girl of 9 when she wedded Vindhar Madragupti. Vindhar was a robust 63. These sorts of arrangements are not unknown in Naranjan, but one cannot help but think of Vindhar as a lascivious old man with his pre-pubescent concubine. And if one could be a fly on the wall, it would have seemed even more so.
> 
> When he married Indrani, Vindhar was the governor of Umbai, a small city in the Nihak province. He was as an evenhanded and just ruler, but the lower castes might wonder at your definition of evenhanded and just. Despite his old age, Vindhar was able-bodied and he remained governor until the ripe old age of 68. At which time he retired with his young wife and newborn son to the family estate, far from the hustle and bustle of city life.
> 
> Indrani knew her place as Vindhar’s wife, but she was also a teenager when she left the city… and she became despondent while living in the country. She missed the spectacle of city life and most of all she missed the people. Her newborn son Sanjay was not a comfort to her, and she often dreamed of a life far from Vindhar and Sanjay where she would be free to live as she pleased. Vindhar never suspected his young, cherubic wife felt the way she did. He was happy doting over his young son and dreaming up sexual fantasies for his child-wife.
> 
> Exactly Two years, two months, and two days after moving to the estate, Indrani disappeared and was never seen again. Vindhar was furious and paid several people to search for her. One of Vindhar’s agents sighted Indrani in the Spice Coast city Varupa one year after she disappeared. She was dressed in the livery of a common sailor. She soon disappeared again, perhaps on a vessel bound for parts unknown.
> 
> Vindhar’s health began to decline soon after Indrani’s disappearance. On the night of Sanjay’s 6th birthday, Vindhar died in his sleep.
> 
> Sanjay and the estate were transferred over to Vindhar’s eldest son, Paresh, from his previous marriage. Paresh had never had a great relationship with his father, but as a military man he took his responsibilities seriously, and more importantly he treated Sanjay like a father. Sanjay often speaks of his time with Paresh as his fondest childhood memories. Paresh taught Sanjay how to hunt and fight. Paresh had an easy way about him that made learning fun and easy for Sanjay.
> 
> Sanjay rarely wondered about his mother, but when he did Paresh was quick to admonish him and then he would spew vile invective about Indrani. It almost seemed that Paresh bottled up all his bad feelings and let them go at the mere mention of Indrani. Eventually Sanjay never asked about his mother again.
> 
> Paresh suffered a stroke when Sanjay was 13 years old. He was never the same again and could not run the estate or care for Sanjay any longer. Control of the estate fell briefly into the hands of Manu, Sanjay’s other half-brother. Manu was an incompetent, and luckily he knew it. Manu knew that he could never run the estate or care for Sanjay so he sold the estate quickly and sent Sanjay off to his sister Lakshmi who had been married off to Yashpal, an imperial officer in Bhindar, the capital of Prajeet Province.
> 
> Lakshmi was barren and could bare no children so she treated Sanjay like the son she never had, as did Yashpal. The turbulent change from country living to city life affected Sanjay deeply and he rebelled a bit at this time. It only lasted a short while, and he was again the model child... well, at least as much as any child can be.
> 
> The strange thing about the Prajeet province is that there are no giants there; the people of Prajeet have a profound hatred of giants… and it was the site of a huge massacre of giants during the Great Rebellion. Despite the lack of giants, the military in Prajeet are known as the best at fighting giants in all of Naranjan. Yashpal inculcated Sanjay with this distaste for giants. He also taught Sanjay a trick or two when caught in a fight with the “tall devils” as Yashpal likes to call them.
> 
> When Sanjay turned 18 he decided it was time for him to leave Lakshmi and Yashpal and make his mark upon the world. Lucky for him, Yashpal pulled a string or two, and Sanjay soon found himself as an apprentice to the Master of the Hunt for the governor of Parashana, the capital of Srijith Province.
> 
> Nandan, one of the few Faen that live in Sudarsha, was charged with protecting the governor’s sizable estate from poachers and incursions from jungle beasts. Nandan was also charged with keeping the estate stocked with all manner of game for hunting. Under Nandan, Sanjay learned quite a bit more than he would from just a run of the mill woodsman. Nandan taught Sanjay the ways of Sujahnism. It was an eye-opening experience for Sanjay to see magic-like abilities performed by someone as low seeming as the faen.
> 
> His work for the governor, Samarjit, did not go unnoticed. The emperor, Vasudha himself, visited the governor’s estate for a weekend of hunting and relaxation. Many of the governor’s entourage noted how well stocked the estate was. A woman in the entourage, Ila, had a lengthy conversation with Sanjay at the end of which she noted that Sanjay’s father was a cousin of a high-ranking minister. Sanjay did not know that he was related to one of the emperor’s own ministers.
> 
> A short while later Sanjay received a letter from his cousin (4th cousin, in fact). The letter simply asked that Sanjay should visit the capital when his commitments with Samarjit were over. Needless to say… Sanjay left Nandan and the estate a few days after receiving the letter. His governorship, Samarjit, was not pleased, but Nandan smoothed things over and a new apprentice was found.
> 
> So much for Sanjay’s history… let’s talk about Sanjay himself…
> 
> Sanjay constantly has a smile on his face. Even when he is exerting himself to the fullest extent his smile seldom wanes. Sanjay has led a charmed life. He was never mistreated by anyone and is quite possibly the least paranoid individual one is likely to find.
> 
> For Sanjay his life has been a series of bad events immediately followed by good so he has little fear of what lies ahead for him. He often remarks that he has led a blessed life and that he is enjoying the rewards of a previous life’s painful existence, but he doesn’t delve too deeply into the possible metaphysical implications. He’s just happy to be wherever he is at that moment, and will always attempt to make the best of a bad situation.
> 
> Sanjay has an irrational dislike of giants because of his time spent with Yashpal in the Prajeet Province. He has never had any bad interactions with giants, but he still tends to avoid them when he can. Interestingly enough he has never met a sibeccai he didn’t like. Because of his friendly relationship with Nandan, Sanjay has a hard time believing the cannibalism stories told about faen. He has never spoken to a Verrik before, but he has seen several during his time in Srijith. Sanjay views them as an oddity. Sanjay has met only a few planetouched, and has always been fascinated by them. The very idea that someone could consort with a being as diabolical as an Asura or as beautiful as the Elements themselves interests him. He views most planetouched as creatures requiring study… and the few times he has been around one he can often be caught staring at their movements.


----------



## Dareoon Dalandrove

I'll give a go at it.


Blaze Stapleton

Blaze (actually his real name is Harland Dundee) grew up as a farm boy longing for the live as an adventurer.  He loved to go to the local tavern and listen to stories and was in awe of the periodic visitor.  He would go to town every chance he got, which was two miles away.  Sometime sneaking off at night or shirking his chores to visit.  At the age of 11 he came up with the name Blaze Stapleton.  He would imagine that he was a great hero fighting dragons and defeating evil villains, as he would chop at bushes and trees with his stick sword.  He loved making up stories and pretending to be some of his favorite characters.  His mother thought it was amusing and would tease that he would be a great actor one day.  Harland couldn't imagine himself standing on a stage recounting tales of others glories.  He wanted to be the one at the heart of the tale.  One of his other skills that would be of great use to him in the future was taught to him by his father and some of the other men at the tavern.  His father imagined that he was a great card player and exceptional gambler.  Sitting at a table in the common room where his father played he watched for hours.  He studied the games that they played with such intensity that the players invited him to play one night.  At that precise moment Harland’s fate was decided.  Much to his fathers delight his son was a truly gifted card player.  Harland, in his time watching the men play had also picked up how to read a player.  Each player had "tells”, little things that they did when they had certain hands.  After that first night he was always invited to play.  When he won though his father would take all of his winnings.  He was told that it would be "saved for him" but he quickly figured out that there was no savings.  Because of this very fact Harland also developed a rather warped sense of value towards money.  He never saves and has no sense of value towards money.  It's all just a game, the gathering and moving of money (a modern person can think of the game monopoly.  Nobody really cares how much things are because it's just a game.)

At the age of fifteen Blaze Stapleton was truly born.  Having been a regular at the tavern for a few years he had developed a reputation as a prodigal gambler.  He also was quiet the charmer of bar maidens, much to the displeasure of his mother and the tavern owner.  Much of this had to due with his loose pockets though.  One night a large caravan had stopped in town.  A rich merchant was passing through and needed the services of a blacksmith.  Noticing the gambling going on he decide to join the "town folk" and see if he could recover his losses by having to stop at the "backwoods bumpkin town".  He laughingly accepted the 15 year old into the game especially after he saw the purse that the boy spilled onto the table.  Laughter soon turned to anger as the boy slowly drained the rich merchant of a hefty sum.  Out raged the merchant accused the boy of cheating.  (Blaze has become quiet the rogue, and has been accused of having too loose morals, but there is one thing that he absolutely never does, and that's cheat at cards.)
Out raged the young man with thoughts of glory challenged the merchant to a duel.  Instead the merchant had his guards drag the boy outside and beat him.  Laying in the street after his assault a man bent over him and told him "Boy you’re good, too good and that's the problem.  Taking a mans money requires not just skill but cunning, and the sense to know when to run when you have to."  He gave young Harland a piece of paper with a name and address on it and told him when he was ready to go see that man.

After his recovery things weren't the same.  The town's priest took joy in taunting the young man and thanked god for "punishing his wicked ways"(something that has stuck with him also.  Blaze is very independent and while pays homage to all religions would never think of joining one.  Compounding now is the fact that he has been to limbo, where he’s sure to go having not declared any alliance, and loves it.  He thinks that he’ll be a god there since you control the area around you with force of will.).  He was also not allowed in the tavern anymore.  Betty claimed that she didn't want any more trouble from him.  Both parents also didn't know what to do with him.  Because of all his time at the tavern he had not learned any skills that most boys his age had.  He knew nothing about the farm really and wasn't an apprentice of anyone.  He had been earning money with his gambling but now that was done.  So Harland scrapped together what he could and left to go in search of destiny.

He went to Shadis (it's a major city in my groups home world) and knocked on the door of one Artour (not Arthur said with rolling r's) Wallece, an independent operator in the city (meaning he didn't belong to the thieves guild).  Pike, as he called himself for the present, learned some valuable lessens from the old man, but true to his chaotic nature left the man and breezed around town.  He picked up many useful skills such as, picking pockets, locks, basic sword skills, perfecting his bluffing skills, and of course lots of gambling.

He's gone off adventuring and he's now about 17th I can't find his sheet because I’m still unpacking from a move).  He’s a rogue I think 11. Fighter 2, wizard 1, and a 3lvl duelist.  He has brown hair that is usually tied back with blue eyes.  He stays clean-shaven so that he can easily apply any disguise. He's 5'10 with a decent build (I believe he had a 15 str).  His strengths though are dex and Chr.  Chr is high, I think with the lvl adjustments it's an 18 and his dex is also pretty good.  I wish I could find his sheet!!!!
He uses a rapier and wears leather armor.  In every sense of the word he is a rogue.  He's CN and goes whichever way the wind takes him.  He's taken on many different rolls in our game.  He went by the name Dirk Gullwing (pretending to be a cloth merchant), Kymerial Natas (a deadly assassin that wears a metal half face plate like the Lockwood sorcerer); he also posed as a savage, a cannibalistic killer to infiltrate an evil organization.  In the same adventure he became the leader of the resistance against an evil organization of a city that he had never been too.  It was fun playing that up.  
He also is capable of insane grudges.  We've met minor npcs that our dm has just thrown out there and because they’ve won at cards or stood in my way at one time or another he's taken deep rooted disliking to them.  Some of them, because it's hilarious, turn up aging to taunt him.


----------



## DarkCrisis

My character:

Winter Shadowborn

Albino Drow Female Bard

White hair and white skin with red eyes.  Likes to duel wield long swords and has a drow hand crossbow (her prized possession) she also carries a lute.

Born in the Underdark where birth defects (such as albinoism) is frowned upon and babies are usually killed.

Her mother though in a most undrow like way didn;t want to lose her child and escaped to the surface but not before dying from a drow team sent to slay her.  Luckily before the evil drow could also slay the child the Drow of Elistree appear and saved the child.  She was raised amoungst them and even eventually inherited her mothers hand crossbow.  She prizes it above all her other possessions because it is a link to her heritage in the underdark (Which she wants to visit someday)  For now she is just happy wandering the above lands of Faerun.


----------



## Dareoon Dalandrove

Rigeal Khalad


He’s one of my favorite characters.  His back-story is pretty cool too.

Born to the second son of a noble Rigeal was sent off to the church at a young age to learn from the knights.  The strict life of a paladin was something that he took to like a duck to water.  Having a strong mind and naturally physically gifted he caught the eye of one paladin that would take him under his wing.  On his first campaign things would get ugly though.  After earning his silver spurs he accompanied Sir Mallister in a campaign against a neighboring state.  In the battle he took a crossbow bolt in the shoulder and was dropped of his horse and knocked unconscious.  He was taken prisoner.  Languishing in a prison for two years there is not much on can due.  He prayed, read, and had many tattoos.  Most of his body is covered his religious scripture and holy symbols.  Crucifies cover his neck, the palms of his hands bear a shield and the watch tower (the holy symbol of his god), over his heart is also another shield.  He bears the holy symbols of other gods also.  All are LG or the most like his own god.  After a political change in government he was released and travel home.  A strange feeling told him to hid himself and observe things.  Doing so he was heart broken to learn of his family’s tragedy.  He elderly father had died while he was in prison and his brother had taken over his council seat.  His brother was a truly gifted statesman and in now time was a favorite of the people.  This unnerved the other members of the king’s council though.  The conspired against him and brought charges of treason.  He was tried and executed, his family lands confiscated and their nobility was stripped.  Rigeal was further devastated to find out that his own church administrators gave some of the most damaging evidence.  Seeking out other family members he discovered the truth but had no way to prove it.  His older sister was married and safe as long as she remained quiet.  She also cared for his younger brother.  His younger sister had run off and had not been heard from in months.

Broken he set off to the borderlands (we started with Return to the keep on the borderlands) to fight and he hoped die.  He assumed a new name for if he did live he wanted no one to know he was a live until he could strike.  We went through keep on the borderland and a few originals before my dm set up a tournament.  At the time this was second addition and we used the rules from combat and tactics.  It turned out to be one of the best nights I’ve had.  In the joust I took a crit to the face (good thing for the helmet) and was stunned but was able to recover and win.  I placed well in individual combats and my party members also won the archer contest and a few others.  Having won the tournament I reviled my true identify.  The tournament prized was a book that told of the tomb of Martek.  So our next adventure took us to Marteks tomb were we succeeded in resurrecting him.  We then went on to Return to the Tomb of Horrors.  Tough, but over all pretty good.  At the culmination of the adventure I stood naked before Aceraks father battling him next to the hole that dropped into the abyss or something.  I didn’t have any magical weapons and was getting beta bad so I decided to shield bash him.  It work perfectly and he dropped over the edge.  It was epic and heroic.  We defeated the module with losses of course, but on the whole did pretty well.  The dm had set things up so that is was imperative to the gods that we succeed. As a result of our success the gods bestowed gifts on all of us.  My character was knighted by his god (pretty cool role-playing idea I think.) and was granted immortality (it works like the elves immortally.  I don’t age so as long as I don’t get killed I wont die.  

So fast forward a hundred years and I use the character again.  This time he’s a 3.0 conversion.  Were involved in another epic battle to save the world.  He had started his own knightly order The knights of the Watch and built a small town.  It helps to be a living legend!  3.0 made him much cooler too.  I took the divine agent class after 12 lvls of Paladin and am on the doorstep to divine transformation.  After being drawn out of retirement he called a new warhorse.  With the rules for different mounts I thought it would be cool to have a celestial warhorse.  So I came up with the story that when he summoned his warhorse his long dead horse Comet showed up in blazing glory.  I modeled the horse after Sparhawks from the David Eddings books.  He’s temperamental but very protective and will let no one else ride him.  

A quick description
Rigeal looks a little like Gerrad from magic the gathering.  I saw this pic in an art book and he looked really p.o.ed and thought it would make a cool character.   He’s has brown hair and a thin perfectly trimmed beard (for now I’m thinking I may drop it once he goes up a lvl). He’s 6 foot tall and a little under 200 lbs.  He’s got a 17 STR to he looks lean and dangerous, especially with all his tattoos.  He had serious and intense eyes.  You can tell that he’s lived a long time though them.  Because the world is in danger one more time he truly believes that he was granted the gift of immortality to be around to fight evil one more time.  He’s forged the knights into an independent entity that’s soul purpose is to fight evil wherever it lies.  They don’t serve counties or kings; in fact it’s against the orders rules to swear loyalty to anyone as it prevents you from always being able to fight for what is right.  He’s getting close to epic levels so I’m getting ready to go for epic leadership.

He wears gray enameled (gray is his gods color) plate mail (like solamnic plate) and uses Irem his magical Great axe (monkey grip!).  Irem is the first weapon that he had.  Its been enchanted and reforged into a “weapon of legend” by the dwarves.  It’s a holy,+2, keen, Great axe.  He also wears a sword but never uses it and a +2 mace for undead, but again usually doesn’t use it.  Other equipment is a +5 shield and a grayish blue +2 cloak of resistance.


----------



## Ziona

*Ziona Half-Drow, Sword Dancer of Eilistraee*

Twenty-one years ago a drow named Zellian was supposed to partake in a surface raid. A tenday before the raid, he left his raiding party and fled to the surface to warn the people of Ashabenford. His Drow companions knew of his intentions, however, and viciously attacked him just outside the town. Being mortally wounded, they tied him to a tree and left him to die as the sun began to rise. 

Fortunately for Zellian, the Drow unknowingly left him a short way from a farmhouse. Megara, the woman who lived on the farm, found Zellian tied to the tree, nearly dead. She bound his wounds and dragged him to her farm, for there was quite a bounty to be had for bringing a living Drow to justice. However, as the days passed and Zellian revived, Megara began to learn the truth. She informed the town of the coming raid, and although Zellian had come to save them, they wanted him dead. Megara refused to see such an action taken on someone who had risked his life to save them all. As a result, she was ostracized by the town for harboring a Drow, even though together she and Zellian had prepared the town and thwarted the raid.

An odd coupling, the two were never officially married. Their love was as true a love as any however, and they welcomed their only child into the world during The Time of Flowers.  This child they named Ziona, and they taught her to understand both her human and drow heritage.  They raised her to worship and accept the ways of The Dark Maiden, Eilistraee, known as the “good drow” in the drow pantheon.  Ziona accepted the ways of Eilistraee, and devoted herself as a cleric.

Ziona has had many adventures, including facing the dangers of The Pool of Radiance, and delving into the depths of The City of the Spider Queen.  It was during one of these adventures that she befriended a pseudodragon named Rossal, who has become her faithful companion throughout her travels.    

Ziona is currently level 20, and has become a Sword Dancer of Eilistraee.  This prestigious rank distinguishes her as a champion of her faith.  Ziona, like other clerics of The Dark Maiden, nurtures beauty, music, singing, and dance.  She is also proficient in the use of the bastard sword, and partakes in the annual hunts and feasts that are held in honor of Eilistraee.  Ziona encourages peace and harmony between conflicting races, but knows that not all will accept it, remembering that as Eilistraee teaches, “Repay violence with swift violence so that those that cause it are swiftly dealt with.”

*Stats & Details*

STR: 16
DEX: 16
CON: 16
INT: 13
WIS: 22
CHR: 16

AGE: 21
HEIGHT: 5’5”  
WEIGHT: 120lbs.
EYES: Lavender  
HAIR: Silver
SKIN: Pale Grey

WEAPON of CHOICE: Moonbeam, (standard elven moonblade, bastard sword +5)

ARMOR: Elven Chainmail Bikini (+3)

ITEMS of NOTE: Holy Symbol of Eilistraee (see picture)
                         Cloak of Charisma
                         Slippers of Spiderclimb
                         Bracers of Armor (+4)

COHORT: Rossal the pseudodragon
               Rossal is known for his love of honey is a faithful companion to Ziona.


*Holy Symbol of Eilistraee:*








_Just wanted to add that this is a very generous and exciting contest.  I can't wait to see the resulting artwork!  Thanks!!_


----------



## Kai Lord

One.  More.  Day.    I won't consider any entries posted after 12:00 am August 1st (Friday) so if you have a character you want to enter, don't delay!  Todd is expecting to see the top 20 this weekend!


----------



## Glass spider

You're really generous for giving us this kai lord- thanks a lot.
I'm a big fan of todd and am really waiting to see the pic of the winning character-That'd be really great.Anyway here's my try.Only if there was a WISH spell in real life.

Knight Golteaurn

Kg is the only remnant and heir of a very wealthy noble family.He's 29 years old and lives in a castle along with his compatriots(servants,but he'd never call them that),
 and his advisor and long time friend-a former court wizard darius.He rides a female fiendish dire horse named mishkah,who is very aggressive and only obeys kg.He's good to the extreme and would do anything to help those who need it.This makes him benevolent to a fault and has led to many unscrupulous people to use him to their own ends.He is a well trained knight who is always clad in polished heavy plate armor during his adventures to help those who need it.He is a tough opponent and wields a mystic lance called "The seven king's lance" of great magical powers which is said to become godly in it's powers when a seventh king wields it.Six have wielded it so far.He only fights when utterly necessary though.As for physical appearance he is moderately tall and always clean shaven.His face is always cheerful and with a slight smile.

Game stats
STR good
DEX good
CON good
INT  Average
WIS Low
CHA good


----------



## RangerWickett

I sorta let this deadline sneak up on me.  I am submitting 10 entries in separate posts, and I hope one of them impresses Mr. Lockwood or the very generous Kai Lord.

My entries will include:


Victorious Elrad, human water elementalist mage.
Tri'ni Gren'eys, dark Elf wild spellcaster.
Sabri Zeldathane, half-minotaur temple guardian.
Vidania Berendt, half-Elf air elementalist mage.
Jenny Windgrave, modern day Native American theater student turned paladin, from the Savannah Knights storyhour.
Quillathe Nailo, dark Elf whip-duelist.
Stanely Deadtree, follower of Zorok, three-headed chicken god of everything.
Gook Moop, Goblin hero.
Hera 'Harley' Fyana, Elf performer and stage magician.
Bobbie-Sue Komalofski, human mage-for-hire, adopted daughter of gnomes.


*Victorious Elrad*
Created by my friend, Justin Rollins

Victorious is a member of the Elemental Guardians, an order of elemental mages that has existed for thousands of years.  The youngest member of the order, Vic is very confident in his skills, and still adventures for his own enjoyment, considering it the best way for him to both hone and show off his magical talents.

A human male, Vic stands just under six feet tall.  His skin is dark and tanned from many travels on the open sea, with about the complexion you'd expect on the legendary Sinbad.  His hair is white, flowing down to slightly below his shoulders, and he has recently grown a distinguished goatee and mini-beard.  As is to be expected for a water mage, his eyes are a cool blue.

Though eager to brag and show off, Vic is supremely relaxed, comfortable in nearly any situation.  He usually wears a confident, friendly smile, and enjoys laughing at the various friendly rivalries he has with other mages.  His wits have allowed him to use magic in rather unorthodox ways.  For instance, Vic is only able to summon aquatic creatures, but once he was fighting a dragon that would not land to fight, so Vic summoned a whale in mid-air over the dragon.  The falling whale knocked the dragon out of the sky, and Vic and his allies were able to finish the beast.

An experienced and successful adventurer, Vic is able to afford the finest, most impressive clothing.  He favors dark blues and grays for his colors, and most of his garments are magically enhanced so as not to restrict movement underwater.  His common adventuring outfit is a light loosely-sleeved shirt, black leather pants, calf-high boots, and a belt that holds essential spell components, a dagger, and a waterproof bag of holding.  Over this he wears a smooth silk vest that appears to waver like the surface of water.  Finally, he wears a heavy blue cloak with gold tracing.  The inside of the cloak is lined with pouches to hold and conceal useful magical items.

He also carries a smoothly lacquered staff cut from driftwood, with no adornments except a few carvings at its head to resemble cresting waves.  Vic's most important magical item, however, is a gold ring with a large square sapphire.  This ring was forged from the magical energy of an Underdark river delta, and acts as Vic's link to the elemental plane of water.

Victorious is often accompanied by a panther named Simba, whom he bought early in his adventuring career.  Vic eventually had Simba _awakened_ to sentience, and they take care of each other as close friends.

When Vic uses magic, his ring's gem glows dimly, and often a halo of water globules form over his head.  With his ability to metamorphose liquids (like water to wine) and to walk on water, and because of his long, flowing white hair and slight beard, Victorious could easily pose as an image of God creating the world from the watery depths.  Plus, panthers were long used as symbols for Christ in Medieval bestiaries.

Here's a very old drawing of him, back when he first started adventuring.  You'll have to copy-paste the link, since Geocities is mean.   http://www.geocities.com/rangerwickett/ToH_Images/Victorious1_watercolor.jpg


----------



## RangerWickett

*Tri'ni Gren'eys, dark Elf wild spellcaster*
Created by myself.

Tri'ni grew up as an orphan owned by a slave-trader, her first name the dark Elf equivalent of 'Stumpy'.  When she was a child, her owner would underfeed her and use her sickly, skinny form as contrast against the better-fed, more marketable slaves.  Eventually she was bought by an old dark Elf man named Rodinn, who took pity on her.  Soon after she was bought, however, one of Rodinn's spells went awry and changed both 'father' and 'daughter's eyes to a brilliant emerald green.  Rodinn gave her the last name 'Gren'eys,' because it sounded like the exotic surface common language words for 'green eyes.'

Though just barely into Elvish adulthood now, Tri'ni has experienced a full lifetime of adventuring.  She eventually ran off with a group of adventurers from the surface, since she wanted to see the rest of the world, and couldn't care less for Underdark intrigues.  She has become a talented spellcaster, exploring the peculiarities of the wild magic that her father was prone to, and occasionally refers to herself as a Sculptor of Chaos.

No longer quite as skinny or runty as in her youth, Tri'ni stands 5'2", and has the dark grey skin that is typical of her race (P.S., Todd Lockwood is probably the best artist ever to capture what I think is appropriate dark Elf skin tone).  She is slim of build, nimble but not physically strong.  Tri'ni's eyes are wide and eager, more human-shaped and less exotic than most Elves.  Her irises are a vibrant emerald green.  Her hair is white, cut short and cheerfully to above her shoulders.  Since her current life is infinitely better than her youth, Tri'ni usually keeps a contented smirk on her face.

Tri'ni wears numerous costumes, favoring comfortable adventuring gear with a few extravagant flares.  She usually relies on her magic more than her modest swordfighting skills, and she can typically be seen carrying a smooth, straight black staff that belonged to her father.  The staff, an ornate magic item centuries old, is topped with an unfaceted green stone and has numerous carvings and decorations made by dozens of owners of different races and cultures.  As a self-trained sorceress, Tri'ni carries few other essentials; since she learned to _teleport_, she has taken to traveling lightly, with just her staff, an impressive cloak, and a _fly_ spell.

Tri'ni's favorite form of magic is lightning.  Most of her attack spells involve lightning, and she loves just standing in a thunderstorm and listening to the sky rumble.


----------



## RangerWickett

*Sabri Zeldathane, half-Minotaur temple guardian*
Created by Jessica Jones, Acquana on these boards

Sabri's mother, a Minotaur from the village of Awenasa, was already betrothed when the human merchant caravan came through town.  She drank too much, woke up beside a very frightened human, and nine months later gave birth to a strange child.  Sabri was nearly cast out, labeled "Nitesh" or 'secret,' but one of the town's elders, a deaf priest named Xenofahn, saw something familiar in the child's appearance.

The Minotaur religion holds that the Minotaur people are a collection of the various essences of the other races, combined to a single form.  Similarly, they accept all religions as containing some element of truth, and thus they revere every god and believe in every myth, though often with a few twists unique to the Minotaurs.  In Xenofahn's case, the infant Sabri reminded him of a goat-legged demon he had seen an illumination of before, and so he thought that she was a blessing from extraplanar forces.  She was accepted by the village and given the name of the town's first ever champion.

Sabri is now eighteen years old, stands six and a half feet tall, and is still growing.  Her lower body is that of a Minotaur, shaggy and cow-like.  From her upper thighs up, however, she looks mostly like a human, with no fur.  Her face is a slight meshing of the two races, with an almost-snout that could be mistaken for just a strangely-shaped nose.  Her hair is auburn, short in back, with bangs hanging over her eyes.  From the back of her head, two short, smooth horns extend backward about four inches, resembling more the horns of a goat than of a bull.

Like most warriors in her village, Sabri was trained to withhold her negative emotions, saving them for combat, when she can unleash them in a berserker frenzy.  Unfortunately, her recent travels through human lands have caused her more stress than she could really handle, and her recent rages have come dangerously close to becoming uncontrolled.  She has recently turned to practicing pious magic in hopes of calming herself, but something about the mingling of human blood and Minotaur makes it hard for her to master more than simple spells.

Sabri fights with a Bokonen, a large metal club with diamond-shaped bumps on its head, similar to an oriental tetsubo (I think that's the name), only thicker.  She received a suit of masterwork plate armor from a clan of blacksmith ghosts, and wears it under the ceremonial robes of a temple defender.  The robes are similar to a priest's stole, but are made of heavy wool with numerous holy symbols sewn along its edge.


----------



## Ankh-Morpork Guard

Oh, bah. Might as well toss in a few, hm?  

*Celebelen Khelekluin, Male Elf*

Celebelen is the son of the King of Elves from my homebrew. Since his father was killed, he was supposed to inherit the throne. He's not exactly the kind of person that ever like it, so he ran off with his favorite horse. Ever since then he's always running and constantly being chased down by members of the Royal Court, under his Mother, to bring him back...since, technically, they kind of need a King.

Celebelen is a little under six feet tall, with long blonde hair and ice blue eyes. While he doesn't like the idea of being a King, his weapons are a bit more showy than normal. He carries an elbaboratly engraved longsword but his preferred weapon is his longbow. Celebelen is fairly thin, and usually wears dark and dirtied green robes to hide his face in public. Everywhere he goes, he brings his horse, Tal'sul. Both of them literally grew up together, and are companions for life...to the point that Celebelen's friends have to convince him the horse will be alright if he doesn't sleep in the stable with her.


*Terinis Aster, Male Elf*

Terinis is the absolute pinnacle of the swashbuckler. He is charismatic, a great fighter, and always in trouble. While he knows that deep down he's still just a thief, he makes sure that everything he does at least is close enough to being legal that no one can catch him for it. While Terinis is a good fighter, he's more of a show off in battle, using far too many jumps, backflips, and other showy and unneccisary moves. He will only kill if forced to, and is actually very talkative while involved in a fight.

Terinis stands around five-foot-four. He always has a grin on his face, and a hand on his rapier...just in case. He wears simple clothing and a large cloak to conceal anything under his clothes more easily. There are  only two things he wears proudly and openly: The first is his rapier, which was extremely expensive. Its hilt and wristguard are designed with a Dragon breathing flames on it, and he's proud that it was something he never did steal. The second thing is his bandana. He wears it whenever he feels he needs a boost of luck. It is old, dull red, and falling apart, but whenever Terinis thinks he needs an edge in something, he ties it around under his scruffy hair on his forehead.


*Surrgis Dureson, Male Illithid*(Something compeltely different)

Surrgis is a young Mind Flayer who plans to prove himself to his people. While not openly shunned, he is mostly looked down upon for his choice to explore to upper world. He is a strong warrior, and a deadly opponent in more than just combat. Though he explores the upper world by his own choice, he detests the creatures of it, and finds himself wondering how the creatures of the surface haven't simply died of stupidity...he even sees himself as the superior to the many Outsiders(mostly Devils) that he has encountered.

Suggis looks like a typical Illithid, with pale blue skin and deep set black in black eyes. He wear very boring and dirty black robes, with a large hood to conceal his identity among the surface dwellers. Because of how he normally appears, a simple humanoid form on a black horse in his black robes with a large sword, he is known as both The Rider and The Dark One among most of the communities which he travels in. On his back, he carries his only weapon, a large two handed bastard sword which he wields with deadly strength. The sword has no distinguishing marks other than a dark green gem in its hilt.


----------



## RangerWickett

*Vidania Berendt, half-Elf air elementalist mage*
Created by mutual group effort in my home game.

Vidania is the daughter of a fire elementalist, but she herself is training to be an air mage.  Soft-faced and often serene, Vidania is currently on a pilgrimage to find a location of powerful air magic that she can bond to, so that she can join the order of the Elemental Guardians like her father.

Vidania's demeanor is generally calm, but she is neither dim nor uncaring.  Her mentor, a very old Elf air mage, instilled in her a sense that life should be lived fully, because no matter how long you have to life, your life will eventually end.  She reacts to danger and challenges quickly and confidently, and often takes the role of commander with the group of guardians she travels with.

Vidania's eyes are a subtle blue-grey, and though her hair is the same fiery red as her father's, it flows and curls in the wind, occasionally kicking up in the intense gusts that come from her spellcasting.  Recently, Vidania was severely burned by a magical fight she got involved in, and she has a major fear of dragons because of some of the challenges her father faced when she was very young, but magical healing has cleared up all of the physical scars.  She is still very cautious, however, and wears clothes to cover most of her body, including long gloves and a headpiece adorned with feathers.  She still has a veil with which she can cover her face, but she has grown more confident lately, and is willing to go without it.

Her robes have numerous layers, pockets, and adornments, often with feather patterns, designed with unusual stitching so that it drapes and ruffles as if it were in a breeze, even when there is no wind.

Most of Vidania's magic is for mobility and defense, creating wind walls and allowing herself and her allies to fly or breathe underwater, but when she does have to fight, often she'll use telekinesis to hurl objects at foes, or create a choking miasma to suffocate them.  Her only weapon is a slightly crooked quarterstaff, whose head turns slightly to face forward, and whose cross-section resembles an eye.


----------



## talinthas

*Hollyberry, Afflicted Kender bbn2/rog5* 

Holly was 12 when Malys came and laid waste to the rolling plains of Goodlund, and he was severly scarred by the experience.  His only living kin is his younger brother, an infant at the time of the massacres.  Now, at the age of 40, Holly has become increasingly paranoid and bitter about the destruction caused by the giant Red.  His younger brother has given into kender instincts and gone off on wanderlust, but Holly lurks around the sewers of Palanthas, trying to find a way to destroy the Dragon Overlord.

Holly is 3'8, and very thin.  His short black hair is oiled and spiked upwards, and the network of wrinkels on his face is framed by long sideburns.    His pointed ears are pierced multiple times up and down the lobe, and around his neck is a gorget meant to prevent the minions of malys from sneaking up and choking him.  His eyes are the only real colorful part of his body, shining a startling green, made even brighter by the pallor of his skin.

Holly has only grown increasingly more paranoid as the years have gone by, and his clothing reflects that.  His pants are a dark olive green, and his shirt and vest are shades of Brown and Black.  Underneath his clothing are thin sheets of metal meant to deter would be assassins.  His pouches hold the usual assorment of picks, but also poisons and varied alchemical devices.  His daggers are all modified to deliver poisons on contact.  Also in his arsenal is a thin wire for choking as needed.  

Ever light fingered, Holly has aquired a few magical items over the years, mainly his boots of striding and springing, and his ring of invisibility.  

Holly lives in the vast sewer network under Palanthas, in charge of a group of kender refugees known collectively as the Kender Underground.  This band of vigellantes exist to harrass the knights of neraka and all minions of the dragon overlords.  Holly's face has been permanently twisted into a most unkenderlike scowl.


----------



## RangerWickett

*Jenny Windgrave, modern day Native American theater student turned paladin, from the Savannah Knights storyhour.*
Created by myself.

Jenny is a performing arts student at the Savannah College of Art and Design, who accidentally found herself involved in the world of magic when she and several other students witnessed an attack by a supernatural creature.  Jenny, bonded to the ghost of a three-hundred-years-dead shaman from her family's tribe, was able to use magic to help fight off the creature, and thus she was recruited to join the Bureau.  As a Knight of the Bureau, Jenny helps make sure magic remains secret to most humans.

Twenty-two years old, Jenny is a young and attractive Native American woman who originally saw herself destined to be a star performer in the theater.  Now she finds more fulfillment by helping protect endangered humans from various magical monsters.  When on the job, she wears well-tailored modern clothes, usually white or beige (she considers this a slight form of rebelling against the trend among her coworkers to wear intimidating black business suits).  She has received some training in hand-to-hand fighting, but she usually defends herself with a spear.  Normally she carries only the stone spearhead, and when she activates the item's magic, a wooden haft appears.

Her ghost, Pataman, is not normally visible to humans other than Jenny herself, but she can see him fine.  Pataman is dressed in the same clothes he died in, a shaman's outfit with modest adornments, but no weapon.  Pataman provides Jenny with access to healing and defensive magic, and protects her from supernatural dangers that would kill normal humans.


----------



## RangerWickett

*Quillathe Nailo, dark Elf whip-duelist*
Created by myself.

Quillathe is a very old dark Elf woman, but still is young enough to fight with perfect vigor and agility.  She has mastered an exotic fighting style, wielding a rapier in her left hand, and a whip-dagger in her right.  Her dark red-violet hair is braided down her back in a spiderweb pattern, and she wears elegant maroon Elvish plate armor that is light enough to not interfere with her fighting style.  Quite possibly the most skilled whip fighter in the world, Quillathe uses the whip to disarm, trip, and strangle her foes before she closes to deliver the killing blow with her rapier.


----------



## RangerWickett

*Stanely Deadtree, follower of Zorok, three-headed chicken god of everything*
Created by Michael Gallogly.

Stanely is dim-witted, but a strong warrior.  He and his family believe that they were rescued from wolves by blessed chickens, and they started a new religion (with six members total).  Chickens are to be revered, not eaten, though eggs are the blessing of Zorok, and can be enjoyed freely.

Perhaps Stanely's beliefs are simply a corruption of the well-documented myth of the Stormchaser Eagle, a powerful holy bird.  Regardless, Stanely desires to spread the glories of Zorok, and fights fearlessly to win fame for his deity.  Square-jawed, poorly shaven, and clad in heavy plate armor, Stanely fights evil with a pair of magic swords -- a shortsword that drips hot tar, and a longsword that sheds feathers as you swing it.  When he kills his foes, he leaves them baptized as is demanded by his religion: tarred and feathered.


----------



## Piratecat

*Dranko "Coaltongue" Blackhope* (aka Mellindiel Brightmirror), half-orc cleric/rogue with a few lasher levels

Really, he wanted _so much_ to be cool.

You would, too. Imagine if you were a half-orc child rejected by your maternal grandparents and turned over to the church for a proper raising. Sure, the church is sacred to the God of Healing, but _discipline_ is done by the sect known as the Scarbearers... clerics who feel that by hurting themselves and then healing the wounds, they become closer to divinity and closer to God. Their healing spells always leave scars, and they are far from gentle with their charges. When a charge happens to be a rebellious and stubborn half-orc, they did their best to beat the devil out of the child.

Christened Mellindiel Brightmirror, the fostered child soon chose a name which he felt was a much better fit: "Dranko," meaning "unloved" in orcish.

By the time Dranko was of age to leave the church, he had over 200 scars on his body. None were self-inflicted, unless you consider direct rebellion in the face of excessive discipline to be "self-inflicted."  

And so, finally, he was free of his church's rules and looking to prove himself - the proud, bitter front that hid a reservoir of anticipated pain. Both a rogue and a cleric, it was common for Dranko to rob someone, pause, and heal them before vanishing into the shadows. He affected an eyepatch he didn't need,  smoked stinking cigars, bought a wardrobe of black leather and red lining, and prepared himself to scrounge his way into society. The slightly protruding tusks and untameable shock of black hair combined with the numerous scars and his coal-black tongue to make him look more than a little intimidating. Unfortunately, in the tradition of "new money" everywhere, the outfit also made him look cheap and tacky as it advertised that he was simply trying too hard.

He never realized. Not too bright, our Dranko.

Nowadays, after years of adventuring, he's developed a bit more class and - thanks to his friends who he trusts more than life - a lot more self-confident. He's still prone to treasure-baths and crowns of tacky jewels, because the ostentatious display of wealth is really half the fun. The fake eyepatch is gone, though, as are the painfully new clothes that were once designed to scream "I'm a thief" to anyone who might pick a fight. He's got more scars, though. Some things never change.

Stats if ya want 'em! And Kai Lord and Todd, thank you again; what a cool contest.


----------



## RangerWickett

*Gook Moop, Goblin hero*
Created by Jessica Jones.

Gook is a classically stupid Goblin.  He managed to become a great warrior of his people, saving them from numerous powerful foes, like the nymph that shrank Goblins and fed them to a dragon (actually a cat), and the vicious black dragon that Gook killed by blowing up a bunker filled with gunpowder.

Gook died when he was too eager to play the famous Goblin game, "Dodge the Guillotine."

Even after death, however, Gook lived on to fame.  His head was preserved by a mage who wanted to have a shrunken head spirit fetish.  Gook was not quite as skilled of a spirit-seer as the mage had hoped, however, and so the gibbering Goblin head traveled from owner to owner, guiding them safely through their travels, but being an annoyance.

Gook always smiles, since it's about all he can do now.  And he loves fish.  His last owner was Harley, described below.


----------



## RangerWickett

*Hera 'Harley' Fyana, Elf performer and stage magician*
Created by Jessica Jones.

Hera's family, and indeed her whole people, disapproved of being too friendly or familiar with humans, so when Hera grew too curious and started sneaking into a nearby human community, her cousin Seth Fyana took advantage of the situation and arranged to have Hera killed by humans, hoping he could ride the public outcry to a position of power in the community.

Hera was indeed almost killed, but she managed to sneak out of town by hiding in the wagon of a traveling performer, Miguel Moskowitz, or "The Magnificent Mosko."  Hera traveled with Mosko for a while, learning human languages and the skills of a stage performer.  She earned her own nickname, Harley, for being a talented and nimble Harlequin in Mosko's stage plays.

Eventually, Harley ran into trouble and had to run, eventually taking to a life of adventuring because it paid well.  She disliked the danger involved, but eventually grew to care greatly for her fellow party members, and thus continued to fight with them even though she felt she could be little help.  Eventually she proved to herself that she could be a valuable asset, and developed a greater confidence in herself, even though she still disliked the dangers of adventuring.  Now, after three years of adventuring, she has again found her mentor Mosko, and travels with him, performing in numerous cities.

Harley dresses more like a human than an Elf, often wearing performing costumes over Elf chain shirts.  

One of Harley's adventuring companions died, and left her his sword, a beautiful black scimitar that had been a royal heirloom of an old Elvish nation.  The scimitar's blade is edged with thin, gleaming diamonds, and its hilt wrappings are deep violet leather, but aside from that, everything else is almost solid black.  Harley respects the old blade, which obviously has magical powers she is unaware of, but she seldom uses it in combat.  She usually keeps it in Mosko's wagon.

Harley wears her red-brown hair in one long braid, and though she used to hide her Elven ears, she now is no longer afraid of reactions from humans, and proudly shows off her Elven features.  Years of adventuring and practice as a performer have made her an expert acrobat, so when she does fight, she is often a blur across the battlefield.


----------



## RangerWickett

*Bobbie-Sue Komalofski, human mage-for-hire, adopted daughter of gnomes*
Created by Courtney Cavaliere.

Bobbie-Sue was raised as an orphan by a group of traveling gnomish gypsies.  She learned gnomish illusion magic, and when her adopted brother Ralph left the clan to start a curios and antiques shop, Bobbie-Sue went with him to help.

Bobbie-Sue is very slender and quirky looking, with a long neck and wavy black hair that falls to her shoulders.  Though she is very smart, Bobbie-Sue doesn't recognize danger very easily, and so her curiosity often gets the better of her when she accompanies Ralph to explore old tombs and ruins.  She wears light robes, often with a blue-green plaid pattern, and recently she became friends with a sentient, talking ring-tailed lemur named Buford.

Bobbie-Sue loves palm trees, hates spiders, and enjoys pretending that she's less smart than she actually is.


----------



## Aaron L

*Rhaethiir Illiphar Vytheryl N’Vyn* 

A gold elven bladesinger from Leuhilspar, trained in the bladesong by his grandfather, he is a minor noble known for his opinions and a smart mouth.  He gained notoriety in the capitol of Evermeet for his sharp tongue, and became something of a scandel and was popular among the young nobles of the city (those who he didn’t offend with his sarcasm, at least.)  

By the time he was a young adult, he had offended most of the noble houses on Evermeet, especially the most arrogant.  His mother is a Moon Elf who had married into House N’Vyn, and he had become somewhat of a pariah among the nobility, not being "Gold" enough for the Gold elves, and not "Moon" enough for the Moon elves.  The final blow came when, at a whim, he dyed his hair red.  Those nobles whom he had offended took this as a mockery of the Queen (who has red hair) and in the following weeks he received 20 challenges to duel.  Not wanting to duel half the city of Leuthilspar, he left the island.  

He traveled to the mainland and joined with a band of adventurers.  Early in their career, this band fought a group of werewolves, but they had no magic or silver weapons, and so were finding it very difficult.  Raethiir eventually used his silver holy symbol of Corellon Larethian (a crescent moon)  to kill the two werewolves, and thus their group took the name “The Company of the Crescent Blade”.  He still wears the symbol, with the battle wear from the fight intact.  

Rhaethiir has fought in Myth Drannor and met a baelnorn, aided the crown in Cormyr against espionage from Sembia, fought alongside a Halruuan spellfire wielder and defended him against abduction attempts from the city of Shade, fought Zhentarim and Red Wizards, helped in the reconstruction of Evereska, and helped slay the fang dragon Phlargonnel.

Rhaethiir has long black hair and silver eyes.  He is 6' 2"
tall and weighs 155 lbs., and he has golden skin.  He wears elven chainmail and carries a mithril longsword.  The only magic item he posses is an ioun stone that brings him good luck.

Gold elf male fighter 4/wizard 2/bladesinger 10/ weapon master 1

Str: 12
Dex: 18
Con: 12
Int: 24
Wis: 10
Cha: 14


----------



## Cedric

*Barathon Silvermane, Swordlord of the Purple Dragons*

The cool breeze swirled, snapping the banners back and forth in their rhythmic dance with the wind. Rising above those banners and snapping in that same breeze was the Standard of the Silver Lion. 

Goblin armies marked the horizon as far as the eyes could see and the Purple Dragons of Cormyr were arrayed against them in the well choreographed lines of a trained Army. 

Even among so many cloaks of purple and black, one man stood out. Leading the crown's army this day was The Silver Lion. The battle was yet to be fought, but the victory was all but assured. 

The black standard behind him bore the Rising Sun of Lathander under a soaring Purple Dragon. The Sun was flanked on either side by Silver Lions which glinted in the morning sun. 

Barathon Silvermane, Paladin of Lathander, is one of Cormyr's five Swordlords. Raised by the church he was found on the doorstep of the Temple in Marsember wrapped in a banner of black velvet. The same banner which rose behind him to mark his place on the battefield. 

A tall Aasimar, just over 6'2", he is marked with hair of the brightest silver and brilliant topaz eyes. Raised by the temple of Lathander he is a natural born leader. Men flock to his banner to fight and he fights for Cormyr. 

Riding a Celestial Heavy Warhorse of the deepest black with a silver mane, he stands out on the battlefield and where he goes, so goes defeat for his enemies. 

"For Cormyr, Bring the Dawn!!"

Cedric


----------



## Li Shenron

*Dehra Dun & Ur-Quan Shenron*

*Dehra Dun* is a juvenile good Druidess of Human father and Elven mother. She has joyful shining green eyes and long, curly red hair which is always messy and which she likes to keep flowers and plants in, some of which seem even to be growing there spontaneously. A lot of freckles wink from her fair skin, and in the summer they tan and nicely cover her whole body. Despite her young age she has seen quite a lot: she first lived in his father’s human community, but he was an adventurer and explorer of the seas and she ended up spending most of the year without him, which later made her feel the need to seek her true identity among the elves of the woods. There she met an elven druid who was destined to make her join the druidic religion. But on one dark winter day a message arrived, that her father’s ship had not returned; haunted by the thought of having lost him forever, and feeling the guilt for having left, she departed from the wood folks and started her quest for his father which so far has led her to many adventures, but without discovering yet the reason why the ship disappeared.
Dehra loves nature and all the animals, she is never afraid when she is in the wilderness and knows perfectly what she can trust. Her respect and understanding for every creature or natural entity is unmatched even by many elders of the druidic community. On the downside, cities are not Dehra’s realm, as she feels uncomfortable with everything which strays too far from what she calls ”the roots of every being”. She wants to trust people, but feels more in tune with her two animal companions she travels with, a proud eagle called Cotca and a young and playful female wolf called Zuzy: she would never deliberately expose them to harm or threat to life, but reality is that she can’t really keep them from helping her bravely when she is in distress.
Dehra learned how to cope with the hard way of adventuring when she was imprisoned as a slave on a galley, a time of sorrow which, on the bright side, brought her to meet Shenron, one of her now most beloved friends and fellows. Now she has become a skillful and fierce combatant as well, but never ceases to worship nature for comfort, and always follows her druidic oaths to take from nature what nature gives us, as it can be seen even when she fights, by the fact she only uses weapons of simple craft: a crude scimitar, a wooden shield, and protections of animal hides.

*Ur-Quan Shenron* (”Shenron of the clan of the strong”) is a good-hearted young adult Wild Elf of solid build and simple mind. Raised in a tribe of free-spirited hunters and brawlers in a distant land, he learned to value friendship, fraternity and freedom above everything else. From his people he inherited an attitude of protecting the weak, respect the different, and esteem the wise. As a young tribesman, he was not stranger to the favourite sports of his fellows, like wrestling or archery games, and to fair hunting, but his notable insight soon brought him to the attention of the elders, who teached him to become a Cleric of Kord, the God of Strength and Courage.
One day when tired for hunting too late and too far with his squad, he and his companions were caught into an ambush lead by sea mercenaries; the ones who didn’t fell to the swords were captured and sold as slaves on pirate ships. That bloody red day was the end of Shenron’s life with his people, and the beginning of his adventures with a Druid called Dehra Dun. Once their slavery was put to end by the aid of a well-armed mercantile fleet, Shenron arrived in a new and unknown civilized land, whose people and culture tickled both his elven curiosity and his chaotic spirit, but the bonds that kept him slave on a galley for months had not left him unscathed, as he swore before his ancestors and Kord himself to never leave any tyranny, slavery or oppression stand in front of him, and never he will. Against such evil he fights fearless, blindly trusting the aim of his eye and the speed of his fingers playing the string of his oaken bow, for he still kills as he was used when hunting: mercyless and quickly, because even the worst foe does not deserve a slow and painful death. And when evil approaches closely, there is always his stone headed battleaxe, the only legacy left to his former family.
Shenron isn’t a smart person, and he knows that. He doesn’t often understand the way of Wizards and other knowledgeable folks, how they manage to dwell among books, when he gets headaches just by the browsing through the pages. But he is respectful of the ones more intelligent than him. He doesn’t scorn nor envy. He just loves freedom more than anything else, not only his own but others’ as well, and this greatest attitude manifests in all his habits, from wearing only armors of animal skins to move more freely, to resting every night under the sky, somewhere there outside the current town’s ring, where he can still believe for a while that the wind that whistles is the same that swept his homeland.

A note from the chronicles of this world:
Dehra and Shenron are very likely in love with each other, although the haven’t realized it at all. Whoever asks them about if there’s an affaire between the two, receives only smiles as an answer. Whatever there is, or whatever there will be, one thing is sure: so much they are fond of each other, and so many emotions they have shared, that no trouble can separate them any more. Whatever fate awaits one of the two, being it to die in battle or to become immortal, to fall to a doom or to retire to Arborea, or simply to end up in a picture on someone’s scroll, it will never happen without the other…


----------



## talinthas

ur-quan?  like in the video game star control?


----------



## Arryn

*ARRYN RAVEN*

<img src=http://us.f1.yahoofs.com/groups/g_8331324/Character+Art/Arryn+Raven+the+Black+Bard.jpg?bcyXMK_A7kVF49Z6><br><br>The general din of the tavern lowers as a man in his early twenties takes the stage. It’s not his appearance that commands attention, although with his green eyes, black close-cropped hair, and goatee he does strike a handsome image. No it’s his presence on stage that draws all eyes to him. He seems to light up the room by just standing there. <br><br>He is oddly dressed for a performer, the leather clothing and rapier at his side give him a rough, capable look, yet he moves with a grace of a dancer. From the looks some of the women in the audience give him, they are obviously imagining him moving in a much different way. He turns and graces the crowd with a grin that can only be described as “roguish.” His expression seems to say,  <font color=blue><I>”That’s right… I’m good and I know it… and you haven’t seen anything yet.”</I></font> Despite his cocky manner, there is something very appealing about him.<br><br>He removes the satchel from his side and places it on the stool provided for him. He cracks his knuckles loudly to loosen his fingers and reaches into his bag. He rummages around for a second and finally pulls out an object from the bag, still grinning at the crowd. There are a few titters from the crowd, and the man’s grin fades as he sees what the audience has already figured out… in his hand, instead of an instrument, he holds what appears to be a fake chicken. His expression changes to one of shock as he quickly stuffs the chicken back in his bag. He begins rummaging again, leaving the audience with one thought, <I>”Was that supposed to happen?”</I><br><br>After a moment or so, the grin returns to the man’s face and he pulls forth another item. This time the crowd gasps in astonishment, for out of the small bag he pulls a full sized lute. He gingerly sets the bag on the floor and strikes a chord on the exquisitely made instrument. The sound from the lute is sheer beauty; one would think there is no more perfect sound… that is until he begins to sing. The tenor voice that comes from his mouth is rich and powerful. He sings:<br><br><br><center><font color=blue><I>The Lady Fair walked in the room,<br> 
Her beauty, plain to see. <br>
And I, being a flirty rogue, <br>
Said, "Lady, Dance with me?" <br><br>

She looked me up, she looked me down.<br> 
She seemed quite lost in thought. <br>
But then she said six dreadful words, <br>
"With you sir? I think not." <br><br>

Now I have never been a man <br>
Who gave up easily. <br>
So I did say, with roguish charm, <br>
"But Lady, I love thee." <br><br>

Now though the Lady is quite fair, <br>
Apparently she's smart. <br>
She laughed at me and said, "I see <br>
Right through your lying heart." <br><br>

I had no witty quip for that, <br>
So I left with a groan. <br>
The Lady Fair would not be mine. <br>
Tonight, I sleep alone.</I></font></center><br><br>
Amidst a hail of laughter and cheers, Arryn Raven smiles at the crowd and winks…<br><br><center> Oh yeah… this guy is good.</center>


*BACKGROUND* 

Arryn Raven’s mother was a chambermaid in the King Azoun’s palace. His father, Arden Telawyr, was an Ambassador from Thay on a diplomatic visit. Arden was struck by Cassandra’s beauty and he two became intimate. Arryn was the result. His mother with the aid of the entire maid staff raised Arryn. His charm and musical skill both became evident at an early age. As was his curiosity; he spent much of his youth in the vast library of the Palace. 
<br><br>
Tragically, his mother died the winter of his 13th year. That spring his father made another visit to the Palace. Arryn found out and went to visit his father. Arden’s bodyguards did not believe the young man's claim so they taunted and ridiculed him. When Arryn got angry, they beat him severely. He fled the palace never to return again. 
<br><br>
He lived on the streets for the next few years. His only income was stealing and singing for handouts. During his time on the street, he would often run afoul of slavers who would try to steal orphans off the streets and put them to work. He was always able to stay ahead of them, but his experiences have fostered in him a deep hatred of slavery and those who practice it. 
<br><br>
When Arryn was fifteen a Wizard with an ear for music happened to watch his street performance. The Wizard recognized Arryn's talent and took the young man under his wing. Langdurin trained Arryn to be a Bard and taught him the basics of magic while his wife, Cindra (a formidable Duelist) taught him how to fight. 
<br><br>
One night, after performing at a local inn, he returned to find Langdurin’s house burnt to the ground. It was often rumored that Langdurin experimented with unusual items. The Purple Dragons decided that one of his experiments went wrong. Arryn always suspected his mentor to be a Harper, and he believes the Mage met foul play.. 
<br><br>
After Langdurin's death, Arryn traveled around the realms seeking adventure. He did many things during this time, he was an adventurer, a performer, a lover, and a thief. The young man inherited his mentor's love of all things magical, often dropping everything he was doing to investigate a rumor of magical items. He is currently wandering, in search of his next big adventure.<br><br>His story begins…


----------



## Li Shenron

talinthas said:
			
		

> *ur-quan?  like in the video game star control? *




I have never had much inspiration about names  

I liked "Ur" which is also the name of one of the most ancient megalopolis, and "Quan" sounded like clan in a savage language.


----------



## Bob the Reaver

Well i better try i suppose. I let the wizards contest go without entering so I better do this as well before I regret it (I think that I might avoid these contests becuse I can neither rite or spel!)

Ive been a GM for all but like 3 games in the past 15 years but in all my game worlds there is a Dogbiter, the character that I have yearned to play since I was 10 years old. So with no preperation and lttle sleep i present too you...

Dogbiter

A nasty aging halfling of ill repute and worse hygine. Dogbiter makes a living doing the jobs others find either too tasteless or, most ofton, too disgusting. If you have lost your magic ring in the citys sewers, Dogbiter is the guy you need to go find it. If you need a few "rare" necromantic spell componats, Dogbiter can dig them up for ya. If you need some one to discreetly bury the 12 rogues you roasted with your fireball last night, well Dogbiters your half a man.

Dogbiter is most ofton found lurking in a number of run down taverns in the dock district. Usually roaming the bar trying to get new customers to buy him a drink or pick the pockets of the drunk or unaware, dogbiter dosnt stray far from the ale.

Dressed in a worn leather jacket, soiled old green breaches and an anciant leather cap reinforced with metal studs, his clothes are not much to look at. Sadly his face is worse still. Deep lines set with dirt draw about the halflings face. His eyes, still very much aware, are marred by a scar running across the left side of his brow. His left eye, damaged by what ever weapon scarred his face, is a milky blue. Always quick with a smile Dogbiters mouth reveils only the jagged remains of teeth, most however are missing. Unshaven for perhaps decades Dogbiter only sports a few wispy grey and black wiskers. Long halfling ears reach out from his wrinked smile. Both ears are adorned with cheap brass and copper rings, the right ear is missing its tip. His hair when not hidden under his leather cap is long, greasy and unkept. He attempts to control the sweaty mop with a large leather lash begemmed(is that a word?) with colored glass.

At his belt hangs a dagger of tarnished steel, its hilt is covered in several unknown symbols. Dogbiter claims this weapon is magical though few belive him. The dagger is perhaps his greatest treasure.

When Dogbiter came to the town not many can say. It is said when Dogbiter arrived he went to the nearest tavern and begane to drink. He became rowdy and the inn keeper sicked his dog on the "little runt", thats when dogbiter got the moniker hes carried for the last 12 years. The "little runt" leaped from his chair and bit the dogs ears off.

It is known that he had spent a long time travelling, for his knowledge of forign lands is surprisingly complte. Every so ofton he is visted by strange adventerous folk, mages, barabarians, once it is, said even a king from a distant land had jorneyed to see the rogish halfling. What is discussed between Dogbiter and his mysterious visitors is always secret and most ofton very brief.
Although Dogbiter seems a worthless begger of ale, poor pick pocket or, when really drunk, a rowdy bruiser, a few know that he possesses useful skills. Some come to him for these talents, usally a bit of information that he had picked up in his shrowded past but occassionally, if you can get him sober enough, he is able to do more descreat work. Tomb robbery and dungeon delving are a few of his unknown but highly prized skills.

Most of his days however are wiled away drinking, whoring and commiting petty crimes (in that order). Not much fazes Dogbiter anymore. Those in the know genrally give him a wide berth (most ofton to avoid the stencth). This is fine for the runty halfling. What ever adventures are behind him he would like them to stay there. Now he is content to be. (A dirty drunk whoring halfling that is)


----------



## Krail Stromquism

*is it any small wonder? Im my own favorite.*

My favorite character is Krail Stromquism.

Now first off Krails an NPC from my recently concluded adventures based off the Ruins of Adventure better known as the Gold Box computer game Pools of Radiance. set in the city of New Phlan.

also I'd like to get this off my chest, I didn't come up with the name stromquism. its the name of some other guys PC. when I was a young spoo, I played in a game that had already existed for 14 years. So I was 2nd generation spoo. and all the 1st gen players had insanely powerful PCs that the DM had control of. One of the more famous ones was Stromquism, a Kensai of the 2-handed sword from OA. there was a crazy story of him decapitating a long line of warriors. 1st Ed rule about 1HD warriors, you could automatically kill 1/level/round. Of course hes 20th level.  from early in the Dms career. we 2nd gen spoo never had it so good.

anyhow, I reuse the name to honor that spooey spoo of yesterday.

Enter Krail Stromquism: My character concept is this: The Ultimate Goth Chick. She has milk white skin. Raven black hair. and those piercing grey/blue eyes that seem to watch with both indifference and disdain. If I can steal a line "talk about beauty and the beast...she's both" (man I wonder how many times thats been said on this thread already?)  anyway

I try and stay true to the original Stromquism and since Krail is begotten from that Idea I make Stromquism her father, whos a LE Master of the 2-Handed Sword selling his training services to the Zhents or Slavers or who ever is willing to pay his price, which isn't always money. Hes currently in Mulmaster knee deep in running a fighting school, and probably slaves and all sorts of unsavory business.

How would the UGC (Ultimate Goth Chick) rebel against that sort of father figure? How would being raised amongst the strict, fierce discipline of a fighting school affect a young girl blossoming into womanhood? (I smell a WB show here) MY answer is she'd find god. Literally I mean. Shed cast off the shackles of strict regime and discipline and non affection and run right into the arms of an all loving higher power.

Who is that higher power?

GARAGOS.

Ok, so the shackles didn't get thrown far, CN god of Slaughter and all, but keep in mind the UGC isn't going to become some flower sniffin sissy pants (not that theres anything wrong with that if thats what you're into...er yeah.)

So after picking up a few levels of fighter from growing up in the Stromquism School of Applied Warfare, Krail finally takes the plunge and picks up a level of Cleric and steals some equipment and runs away from her home in Mulmaster and finds her way to New Phlan (al right, for those of you looking at a map of Faerun and the Moonsea region, you'll notice she didn't run particularly far. The point is shes asserted her independence and struck out to shape her own destiny.)

So theres kinda Krails origin.

Heres her Nuts and Bolts, as it were:

Krail is an attractive woman in her early 20s. Her eyes are piercing but open and expressive. They retain an attractive innocence yet harbor a knowing maturity. If you've ever met someone and felt they had an "old soul", Krail exudes that quality. Young beauty harboring aged maturity.

Shes young and attractive, beautiful some would say. She has a strong voluptuous body and dresses to show it off. She has no qualms exploiting the weakness of men to her advantage especially in combat. 

Her arms and armor are always silvered with a heavy black patina worked into the recesses and designed to show off her form. I envision the impossible plate mail boustier, cut low for ample cleavage. (Krails starting to sound really slutty but I swear shes not, I am, but thats another story)

She has a few favorite accessories. One is a Collar of Domination and its your run of the mill studded black leather (dog) collar. Her Custom built Wings of Flying,  a long cloak of darkest raven feathers, it trails on the ground. A flaming long sword, no doubt a personal affront to her father and his choice of weaponry. And  a Silvered Shield to match her armor.

Early on in her career shes gets tainted by chaos along with most of the rest of the PCs and pics up an oddity or two. First, tattoos, sharp, abstract, angular, tribal tattoos appear in various places on her body. Later on, in a second tainting, they all connect and begin to shift and change and move around on her body. In a final taintfilled episode she grows rams horns. She likes to keep her hair long.

And her motto is of course "The Sword is Family"

Well thats about it folks: heres the crunch of Krail:
Fighter-2
Cleric-7
Divine Emissary-1
-Power Attack
-Cleave
-Thug
-Divine Might
-Improved Initiative
-Craft Arms and Armor
-Craft Wondrous Item
-Weapon Focus LS, War Domain
Domains:
War
Destruction
Strength (divine emissary)
Human
CN
86 HP
Str-16
Dex-12
Con-14
Int-11
Wis-18
Chr-18

Hope that was not too jumbled

good luck everyone!


----------



## Krail Stromquism

Alright I cant take credit for this name either but I feel it Must be included with all the others.

Its was used on SNL by Norm McDonald, playing the role of Burt Renoylds on Celebrity Jepordy, Half way thru the skit he changes his name to:

TURD FERGUSON

now I see Turd as being a over weight halfling or Gnome with irratable bowel syndrome maybe an inventor/mage striving to create the first Bidet tied directly to the elemental plane of water. 

Now thats fresh!

bye


----------



## Tartaruah

*Character Concept.*

My character's name is Jarib Hiraim, and he is a high-level tiefling paladin!
History: Jarib was born in a decadent city governed by an evil priest, whose ancestors mixed their bloodlines with those of devils. He had six brothers, and all of them succumbed to their fiendish nature. But Jarib was the only family member who did not follow the path of Evil. When he turned eighteen, he fled the city and escaped to the north. Jarib was captured by Walkers of the Celestial Path, a secretive order dedicated to combating evil outsiders. To their surprise, they discovered no evil disposition in Jarib; in fact, he showed the potential to become an ardent champion of Good! Thus, the tiefling was accepted into the Order and became a paladin. 
Over the years, Jarib became one of the greatest heroes of the land. Together with his comrades, he battled efreet, evil wizards, corrupt priests, and fiends from the nether planes. He rescued a large city from imminent destruction at the hands of a salamander army. He travelled to the North, and defeated the King of Frost Giants. In southern jungles, he battled the Shadow Wyrm and freed an enormous couatl from his planar prison.
Jarib knew great success and great sorrow. He lost his love, an aasimar sorceress, to the depredations of an enraged efreet. His Order was all but wiped out by an incursion of fiends. Jarib aided the rebels in his home city, had to kill his brother Faris, and was viciously betrayed. Malevolently accused, he had to flee a city which became a new homeland for him. His faithful steed fell in the frozen wastes of the North. 
But Jarib's spirit never failed. 
Physical Description: Jarib is seven feet tall, and his long black hair reaches his shoulder-blades. His skin is dark, and his face is that of a southerner. Jarib's eyes are grey, but they glow with  red light when the tiefling is angry or agitated. 
Jarib typically wears a long dark robe with a sash; his feet are clad in sandals. Over the robe, Jarib wears an exquisitely crafted mithral chain shirt, ensorcelled and gifted to him by the elves. He is never seen without his black cloak, which is actually _ wings of flying _; it turns into a pair of glossy black wings should Jarib wish to rise into the air. The paladin's weapon of choice is a finely sharpened falchion that can ignite itself; it has seen the death of countless enemies, mainly frost giants. When airborne, Jarib uses his longbow, a reward from a certain planetar for destroying a diabolist wizard. 
Jarib is often accompanied by his mount, a black pegasus; it was a consolation present from cloud giants, who heard of his previous mount's demise.


----------



## Paragon249

*Galin Shieldbreaker*

Galin Shieldbreaker 
Male 
Race: Winged Elf 
Age:164
Concept: Skilled Temple Guard Commander who has lost his faith. 
Position: Sword Prince(2nd born)/Trained Warrior. 
Known Traits: Arrogant, quiet, skilled and talented with all manner of weapons, intelligent, distrustful of magic and no magical aptitude whatsoever(rumored to be a lie, others speculate it may be the cause of his distrust of magic), athiest. 
Weapons: Shieldbreaker, a truesilver longsword of exquisite craftmanship, the hilt is engraved with the Arien rune for blademaster on one side, on the other, the broken shield he has taken as his sigil, both in red. Set with a black diamond in the pommel, the hilt is wrapped in smooth black leather. 
Armor: A truesilver chain shirt, black leather armor on his other parts. 
Heraldry: A golden shield split in a lightning bolt pattern on a field of black.. 

Description: 
Impenetrable midnight-black orbs gaze out of the face of an animated work of art. Framed in a halo of silver-white hair, the lines of his face have the sort of hardness for which no danger on earth is a match and such shocking perfection of beauty that any work seems too dangerous. The face has no expression; it looks as if the man lost the capacity to feel long ago, and what remains are only features that seem implacable and dead. 
More than handsome, he has the startling beauty of physical perfection; the hard proud features, scornful mouth and long, slender figure. He has a ruthless innocence belonging not to a man, but an avenging angel which will neither seek forgiveness or grant it. His lustrous wings are raven feathered, of a black as dark as his eyes, with a noticable gleam. He moves with a fluid grace and a casual ease that betrays the power in his body, a body honed to a deadly perfection over years of practice. His enchanting voice is clear, but quiet and melodious, at ease in a whisper or filling a room with his commanding presence. There is an aura about him that drives away those without serious business and his air of civility has under it a perceptible menace that he has other means in reserve if necessary. He is always immaculately dressed, armor and leathers brightly polished. His sword is belted at his waist and his right hand is encased in a black leather glove. A signet ring is the only jewelry that he bears. 

History: 
Born to the blade was Galin. Shieldbreaker was brought to his hand shortly after his birth and has never left his side. His service as a member of the Temple Guard is a proud and honored tradition, one that he takes seriously. His life is dedicated to the protection of the temple. He has committed himself 100% to this task. He is well learned, necessary as a noble and officer. Versed in all manner of weapons, armor and military tactics, he has the knowledge and training of some of the best minds and bodies in the country. Galin's mind is that of an introvert always applying his mind to his surroundings and constantly alert and planning. His fighting style is almost unique, as he is as close to one with his blade. He has an intense distrust of magic as he can only rely on his knowledge of sorcerous capabilities and his skill with a blade to save him. He is sure that he will die one day due to magic and is ever vigilant for enemies with access to such arts. He is one of the few opposers of the vaunted Guardians and has gone so far as to make obvious his disdain for the magic of his people. He prefers his relative anonymity as he generally dislikes most. Few have seen him smile, and even fewer really understand him. His arrogant manner extends even to other nobles, his opinion of them as spoiled, lazy children never far from his eyes or lips. He takes his position very seriously, his noble birth inversely less so. He is reputed to be uncaring and cold in his dalliances, ending them suddenly and often, only speaking with the most beautiful his country has to offer, and quite uncaring of the rank or position of those he dallies with or their families. He is said to be a perfectionist and though he often displays a barbed wit he is usually unfailingly polite, although displays of outright rudeness and mockery have been recorded. His heraldry is feared by most who recognize it, though only a handful have witnessed his prowess in person. It is said that noone but his master has bested him in single combat, but whether this is from deference to his position or actual skill, is as yet undetermined.


----------



## Tashtego

*Guthric Battlehammer*

Guthric Battlehammer is a young wizard rebelling against his dwarven heritage. Tired of traditional hidebound dwarven culture (that involves spending your time stomping around, drinking, grumbling and mining),  Guthric shaved off his beard, learned Elvish and took up the worship of Corellon Larethion. His mother is desperately hoping that he'll 'grow out of it' and Guthric’s father ordered him to leave home, saying: ‘You’re not welcome again in these halls again, boy, until hair is properly growing on your face again!’.

From an early age, Guthric was always interested in magic. He was fascinated by stories about elves and shocked his parents  when he told them he wanted to learn elven-style wizardry. Unable to make their son see the light of reason, Guthric's parents apprenticed him to a 'proper' dwarven wizard, Morgan Whitestone, a famous
smith whose enchanted armours were sought after throughout the Dalelands.  Morgan got Guthric hooked on forging weapons and now Guthric wants to be one of the greatest weaponsmiths in the lands.  Unfortunately, any contact Guthric had with elven culture only made him more intrigued.

When a beginning adventuring party stopped by Morgan’s shop to buy some enchanted armour, Morgan encouraged Guthric to leave and travel with them, hoping that travel would broaden Guthric’s horizons and make him appreciate his own culture more. (At least that’s what Morgan tells the dwarven elders. Meggan Silvertine, the town gossip whispers that instead of folk saying ‘Hey, aren’t you Morgan Whitestone, the legendary smith? The fellow who forged ‘Grimblade’ for the king? Cor, I’ve got to see that!’ they were starting to say ‘Hey, aren’t you that fellow with the strange apprentice? A dwarf shavin’ off his beard? Cor,  I’ve got to see that!’)

Guthric's aim is to become one of the most famous crafters of magical weapons hroughout the Realms. Unfortunately, he's not taken seriously by either his own people or by the elves whose culture he really digs. So far, the only group of people Guthric feels comfortable with are the members of his own adventuring party. When he first started adventuring, he was disgruntled to find that he was being continually mistaken for a female dwarf, especially by his party's human fighter. Guthric usually dresses in an elven chain shirt, worn over flowing silken robes. He shaves daily in a habit that has become a certain grim ritual and hopes that magic weapons he will create will win him approval from his people even if his appearance does not.

Exchanges like this with other dwarves are typical:

(At the dwarf-owned general store):
GUTHRIC: I'd like to buy something.
DWARVEN PROPRIETER: "Like a beard?"

(At the dwarven inn)
GUTHRIC: I'd like a glass of mead please. And a light salad.
DWARVEN BARKEEP (growling): We’ve got ale. And stew.
GUTHRIC: What about wine?
DWARVEN BARKEEP (growling louder): We’ve got ale. 
GUTHRIC: What about white wine?
DWARVEN BARKEEP (shouting): WE’VE GOT ALE! GOOD, BROWN, STOUT ALE! THAT’S ALL WE’VE GOT! Can’t you understand that you beardless freak!
GUTHRIC: Okay then.
DWARVEN BARKEEP (looks relieved). Phew.
GUTHRIC: What about honey schnapps?


----------



## Prothall

Well, it's worth a shot...

Rinney Flanagan is an illusionist in the Land of Maissen, with the added complication of wizardry being illegal. Despite this, he kept his wizardry secret and was chosen as a Hero of Maissen - one of those who go out and tame the countryside, as it were. He is something of an aristocratic rarity in Maissen, as he is pure Founder in descent - the Founders are like conquistadors of the Churkey, the native inhabitants, who are somewhat like South Americans in appearance, but barbarians in culture. While adventuring, an encounter with the Arch-Lich Idien, evil and still-living (or un-living) brother of Maissen (founder of Maissen), left Rinney reduced... permanently. He is now about three feet tall and weighs 17 pounds. His weapon of choice is the rapier, and he's quite good at woodcarving. Also, because horses tend to be scarce in Maissen, when Rinney left his hometown to travel to the capital of Maissen (also called Maissen), he left on a cow. Or an early ancestor of the same. He has grown attached to Ichiopa, and tries his best to make sure no harm comes to her.

Without describing my adventures thus far, that's about it, except for a bit of his origin story, which can be found here: http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=46195

EDIT: I forgot to add that he currently wears a red silk shirt given to him in Maissen (My avatar is what we use for Rinney in OpenRPG). He also throws daggers, and wears a cheap brass moon charm, sacred to the moon goddessses, and explains his wizardry by saying that it is "lucky" (this does make some sense, as Sorcerors are something like Moon Priests).


----------



## HudsonD

That's one of the best contest I've ever seen on Internet !!!

English is not my primary language, but I'll do my best to describe my character.
**********

Liandra Amakiir, Elven Paladin of Tyr, lv19

Race : Moon Elve (F)
Age : 130 years
Height : 5' 4" (1,64)
Weight : 55 Kgs (about a hundred pounds)
Unaugmented characteristics (With equipment):
STR : 10 (14)
CON : 14
DEX : 20 (24)
INT : 12 (14)
WIS : 14
CHA : 19 (25)

Description :
Beautiful, even according to elven standard, Liandra's presence goes rarely unnoticed. For an elve, she's quite tall, with a relatively strong constitution, although she doesn't really look like a fighter. Her hair are light silver, almost white, with very light blue accents.

At first she looks like a cleric, with a cleric robe that hides most of her mythril chainmail armor. This robe, of elven manufacture, is adorned with the colors of Tyr (mainly white, with some blue and purple), and is more adapted to travel and combat than ceremonial duties, though few humans would see a difference. She also wears a heavy shield that looks like an a powerful artefact (Prator's shield from DMG), 2 swords, a justice sword and a rapier, and finally, an elven longbow , which looks like a masterpiece, but doesn't seem to have magical properties. With all her equipment, she almost looks like she's radiating some lights (Command Armor). Since paladins are always welcomed in some places, she sometimes hides herself in a long, dark hood.

Her appearance is calm, with a friendly smile, though she often seems somewhat distant. The main exception is with half-orcs, whith whom she has difficulties to hide her contempt, few people knows this but she was almost raped by an half-orc once, and only her paladin vows has prevented her from truely hating them. She will not let this alter (well, not too much) her judgement however. Unless in dire circumstances, she rarely seems angered, and she has almost never been seen losing her temper, although some could argue that cold anger can be much more dangerous...
In combat, she's very cold, almost emotionless, but will fight like a paladin, with fervor.
Her mount is a Griffon.

Background :
Liandra belonged to a small elven community in the north of Faerun that was established not too far from human settlements. The relations were quite good with the humans, to the point that most elves, even those who had never travelled outside had a basic knowledge of the human culture. As a child, Liandra had always been a bit different and not very well integrated (Loyal alignment), not surprisingly she was among those elves that were the most influenced by the human culture.

During a very harsh winter, a portal opened, and some demons entered the material plane. they weren't not a horde, but definitely more than what the community could handle, and Liandra was sent with others non-combatant to the humans to ask for back-ups. The few paladins that were protecting the town were immediately sent, but they arrived almost too late. The elven warriors had suffered heavy losses, and part of the settlement was already desacrated.
Altough the paladin saved the days, there was no real celebration that evening, and with the losses suffered, the elven community was disbanded gradually over the next years.

That fateful day, however, Liandra discovered her vocation, and how she could help her kin. She had already received a formal training with elven weapons, but she was not a warrior, and had to finish her formation. She started to pray her gods, and they answered that no elven gods could help her on the path she had chosen, but that they respected her decision to protect the other elves. She went on and travelled, until she reached a Tyr Cathedral/Fortress. There, she was formally accepted by Tyr, and trained as a paladin.

After becoming a paladin, Liandra wandered on her own on some small quests. She was welcomed in most  human settlements, but she had difficulties with the other elves, who appreciated her as an ally, but now considred her as an outsider. Her main objective is to protect people from evil powers, whatever their species, especially elves. She also tries, whenever she can to better elf/human relations, and prevent inter-species disputes (Diplomacy at 25)

A stranger in both communities, Liand has become quite a loner since her mentor (for whom she had started to develop some... feelings) was killed. She is now far older than any of her superiors, and  has served Tyr longer than most of them. Fortunately, Tyr has noted her efforts, and she's quite free of her actions, as long she serves the greater good. With Tyr's blessing she serves as a hunter of demons and other powerful evil entities like dragons.

Combat
Liandra rarely fights unprepared, and whenever possible, blesses both her gear and herself before combat. She's not much of a front line fighter (low VPs, despite an AC of up to 45), but she's still a real threat with her bow (4 attacks with a max bonus of +43, and damage between 50 and 64 to evil creatures...) and her arrows have been directly responsible for more than one evil entity's destruction. Otherwise, she uses a rapier, or her justice sword.

********
I hope my english isn't too broken, but I had to give it a try


----------



## Sage

*Cauis Philetas*

This is a character I've had in my head for some time, I've even considered writing a novel about him.
------------------------------
*Description:* 
Caius Philetas heritage is celestial in nature, so he therefore has catching green orbs in a silver pool for eyes. He stands 5' 4'' and has a muscled athletic body. Over his tunic he wears a vest underneath which he keeps most of the tools of his trade, the rest is either in the pockets on the side of his pants or in the square backpack he has on his back. 
His black hair is short, but not as short rough bristles on his face. By the hip on his right side he carries a bladed gauntlet which he will quickly slip his hand into and fasten if in danger, an enchanted glove adorns his other hand. But the gauntlet is not his only defense though. He wears a knife in his left boot, and a hand crossbow is strapped to his backpack so that he can easily reach it. On his left overarm there are 3 crossbow bolt with their heads concealed and coated in sleep poison.

*In Action:*
His first defense against a foe he does not wish to fight is his crossbow. After put to sleep, he will either slit their throats, or just leave them alone if they for example were city guards just doing their job. In close combat he usually crouches and tumble as much as possible to gain any advantage over his foe, his heritage has given him acrobatic aptitude, so he often tries to impress his foes with stunning acrobatic maneuvers, coupled with not-so-effective attacks. If that fails he will move in for close combat, using his enchanted, almost impenetrable glove, as a kind of buckler grabbing or blocking the enemies blows and digging in with his bladed gauntlet. If need be, he will grab a poisoned crossbow bolt and use it as a melee weapon.

*Short History:*
Caius grew up in a huge cosmopolitan city named Waterdeep, abandoned by his real parents he was forced to live with 2 thieves who took care of him. He learned quickly the ways of the city and in his teenage years became a competent thief himself, but with competence came a higher status in the thieves guild and a higher understanding of what they were doing. As he realized how many lives they destroyed he left the guild, barely an adult, and vowed only to steal from people whom deserved it, which in his opinion are corrupt merchants and the like, and has to this day kept his vow.
He is also a kind of adventurer though and believes that nothing is so secure that it cannot be stole, so if he hears about something well guarded, he will often go to great lengths to obtain it, just for the thrill of the danger and in spiting whomever was so arrogant. If he can't use the item himself though, he would often return it anonymously, an act that would repel everyone in his former thieves guild.
---------------------------------------

I hope you like him  

Sage


----------



## Sharissa S'ssthylhas

_"To those reading these lines: their intent is to let You understand – neither more – nor less. Understanding is the sign of all civilised races – boon and curse at the same time. One who is able to understand – is able to learn from mistakes. This brings us to the principle I chose live by: 

History never learns by itself – but it may teach those who dare to listen.

Knowledge may blossom into wisdom and understanding. So keep reading – know, listen – and understand.:

I fear I will have to start with my youth – and I will try to add explanations concerning several more specific aspects since I can't assume that this journal is being read by one of my people. The – village – I hail from follows the path, that has been followed since it's founding by the ancestors of my ancestors – the path of tradition. The clutches of our eggs are guarded deep within the Hall of Gathering, the central building of all – villages. They resemble the future and the whole – village – would rather die than let harm come to the clutches during the Time of New Life. I use the term "village" as the closest approximation to the true meaning of the word I know. However – each approximation – be it as close as it may – holds the seed of deviation, which could blossom to misunderstanding.  So it is this deviation that requires more explanation.
When the Time of New Life comes, all females bearing the gift of new life follow one of the most primal instincts and gather within the well-prepared Hall. There they help the new life to take it's first step into our world – this first step is the very last we can't make ourselves. Thereafter it is mostly up to us to make that first step – for every path we take starts with it. We mature within our leathery shells in the warm pools of the Hall – fiercely protected by the females. Every egg looks about the same and it is difficult – if not impossible – to differentiate them. But this is not intended – it is the clutch of the whole "village".  Within the numbers of the fertile eggs lies the grace of the Worldsnake, two out of three are held as a good omen for the coming season. After the new life has taken it's first own step by breaking the protective shell, the Hatchlings have proven themselves to be strong enough and they are carefully cleaned. Those Hatchlings who are not strong enough to break their shells – will perish and every fertile egg lost this way saddens the whole village. But it is the path of tradition, for if we are not able to take our first own step – we won't be able to follow our path along the hidden and intertwined ways of fate. Even in times most dire we do not interfere with the grace of the Worldsnake which decided what was worthy to take the first step – and what not.
After three Moons of care within the warm pools some of the Hatchlings may have died  - the weaker ones barely survive the first EightDay – nevertheless this also is the way of things our people follow since the dawn of our time. Now those who deem themselves able to teach the Lore of his or her life choose their Hatchling – their Ssian S'shay. They will raise him or her and teach them all they know. This way every Hatchling is a Hatchling of the whole "village", nobody is able or even willing to determine "his" or "her" Hatchling from "his" or "her" clutch of eggs. "Ch'klann" – our word for "village" - bears the meanings of "community", of "tribe" – and of "family".

Thus during my time as a Hatchling I became the Ssian S'shay of Shiruvarr – the Keeper of Knowledge.

It was Shiruvarr who taught me to learn anytime, anyplace. It was Shiruvarr, who taught me the secret of the sacred Starstones – or gems, taken from deep within the womb of earth, as You may refer to them. And it was Shiruvarr which I left behind, deciding to part ways to follow my own path.

Shiruvarr showed me the history of the World and how we understand her. Thus I learned of the Beginning of existence – and the emergence of the Three Elements – Air, Earth and Water – from the Second Dream of Nothing, after it had dreamed the Void during it's First Dream. I also learned of the Hatching of the Worldsnake during the Third Dream – and how she created the world out of the Three Elements. Unfortunately – the dream of Nothing did not end at this time – and from the Third Dream sprang forth different entities, children of the Dream of Nothing like the Worldsnake. These children were Hatchlings without guidance, without history and tradition – without teachings.
Thus – the First Controversy broke out amongst them – and many others where to follow. In their controversy they created small images of themselves to aid them. The existence of these creations was finite – whilst the entities were always dreamed anew by the Nothing. Thus those talented to reason came to existence – the peoples of the world. They were bound to their creators and part of their conflict which may have lasted eternally – if it weren't for one of the entities, who did mean to end this conflict – by contacting her own creator – the Nothing itself. What exactly happened then has been lost from memory during the following Darkness of Ssokhonn Th'arr – the Great Seperation. Many of the entities perished when the Nothing did border the Awakening of the Eternal Dream. With them innumerable of the people passed on, whole peoples vanished and were forgotten – did they ever exist?
Restless the Nothing again sank deep into its Eternal Dream – nevertheless part of the requests of the complaning entity – the Worldsnake - where heard. And such the face of the world did change to the one we know. The majority of my people honors the Worldsnake as their creator – perhaps she did shape us after the characteristics of the first people of all – the Dragons. Others say that it was Ppyr – Ancestor to all Dragonkind – who gave us existence by the powers granted to him by the Worldsnake as her Avatar and Voice. All this happend aeons ago and even my people had to bow to Oblivion. Ppyr chose his own path so long ago and the Worldsnake began to guard the slumber of the Nothing to protect the Eternal Dream.

And thus the Keepers of Knowledge use the power of the sacred Starstones, gifts from the First Fire of Ppyr. They resemble the Trinity of Elements: the Clarity of Air, the Durability of Stone and the Coldness of the Water with its unfathomable dephts.

A Keeper is able to wake the powers of the Starstones, he or she uses them as a fokus to reach his or her Innermost Self, the very essence of our being. Every living being is part of the Eternal Dream and by our dreaming ourselves we take part of the process that shapes it. The emerald forests dream and remember, the prey within the woods dreams and remembers – and we dream – remember – and sometimes we are granted the gift to shape our dreams, forging a tiny part of the fabric of the Dream of Existence consisting of the Three Elements. But every living being should also know about the origin of it's Innermost Strength: should the Nothing awake from it's Eternal Dream because we were too greedy, too eager to shape the Dream – the world and all people will end. So we will preserve the knowledge of the past – for to shape the "now" – so there will be a "then". Still the Worldsnake prevents the Awakening though the Nothing grows restless again in its slumber, stirred again by growing powers longing for the might of entities.  And still we all – wether from my people or from others – add our part to the Eternal Dream, keeping it stable.

I choose the Path of Balance - knowing that Life must end in Death, knowing that Order needs Change and that neither Light nor Darkness can be without the other. It is because of this that I chose a path different from most of my people: I left my Ch'Klann to explore the outside world and to watch the other people. Their past may well be the key to our past – and who understands the past is able to learn from it. Perhaps this way I may contribute my tiny fraction to preserve the Eternal Dream and with it – the Essence of Being."_


Sharissa - hailing from the Ch'klann S'ssthylhas - is a female lizardman. She longs to explore the world outside her own, the countless wonders of other civilisations. The heritage of her people - a history hidden deep in the past, now almost forgotten even by her elders. By learning the past of other races - knowing about their achievements, their errors - their cultural golden age and their darkest hours - she may be able to glimpse what the future holds for her people who have once forged the base of the known civilisations - and destroyed it by their own foolishness. They forgot about the Balance of things - that basking in the sun means also having a shadow - and a night. Thus came the downfall of her people - and now only the ancient ruins claim the heritage to a once glorious history. Mayhaps it is her destiny to find the lost city of Szss'inarr - the famed City of Gold - "amber jewel within an emerald eye" - lost in the depths of the steaming jungles where even her people don't dare to go.

Most scholars refer to her race as "Common Lizardmen" - upright, bipedal humanoids with scaled skin - smooth and dry to the touch - with reptilian features, elongated snouts filled with sharp teeths for cutting prey. Webbed hands and feet, larger than those of humans comparable to her size of 6' 4" - and a sleek 4' long tail, digitigrade legs. Her scales have a rich, dark green-tone getting slightly lighter and nearly emerald green on the joints and the plates covering her front torso and abdomen. Her eyes are deep amber and hint of the knowledge she has achieved so far, regarding her surroundings with a calm and curious interest.

She wears a leather armour crafted out of the tough and boiled hide of the Krraa'nukh which won't dissolve as easily in the humid environment as normal hide might.






and yes - that was my attempt in drawing


----------



## Coreyartus

*Barrymore Booth, Bard Extraordinaire*

Barrymore Booth, Living Greyhawk Character of Corey Johnston, San Diego
http://www.nyrond.org/turbine/char-show?char=196
6th Level Bard
STR: 10, DEX: 13, CON: 11, INT: 14, WIS:12, CHA 16
Male, 26, Weight:  175, Height:  5'8",  Eyes:  Green, Hair:  Lt. Brown


Master Booth is of average height and weight for a human, appearing to be in his late 20's/early 30's. He is usually seen attired in brown studded leather armor with alternating vertical dark and light brown stripes and poofy sleeves, the leggings of which he keeps tucked in his tall dark boots. He has a short, light brown beard. His head is adorned with long curly blonde hair capped with a large-brimmed leather hat and a fluffly tan ostrich plume. Many have said he appears rather like a chocolate and caramel truffel, topped with a dollop of frosting (but they would never say this to Master Booth's face, of course...) 

Master Booth is of mixed Flan/Oeridian/Suloise heritage, unfortunately fitting in with the rest of the mongrel-mix so common in Nyrond, a part of the Flanaess. Rarely is he caught without his Lute (which he has named Cherub) close at hand, but when engaging in more hostile activities (regretably so necessary in his line of work) he keeps his crossbow and longsword at the ready. Many times, especially in the provincial regions of Nyrond, he has been seen striding into town on his chestnut brown mare, Ethel, strumming his music and generally causing a commotion. He would like to think he is quick to smile (but this is usually when he talks about himself). His epic ballads are often unsolicited but always...stunning. 

History: 
Master Booth doesn't like to talk about his past. He'd really rather concentrate on the glory that is the present, and even greater magnificence and fame that will come in the future! Actually, he's taken great pains to hide his... well, sadly mediocre life story... but as long as you don't tell anyone, we'll let you in on the gossip...

THE TRUE REL MORDE STORY: BARRYMORE BOOTH

Born to travelling merchant parents killed in a raid, Barrymore was raised by his aunt and uncle who lived in the first village along the road south of Rel Mord. Barrymore was bored with their simple tailoring life, though, and paid particular attention to the troupes of performers as they travelled through. Oh, for a life of adventure, fame, history, fame, art, and...fame! It seemed the road had all the things that poor Barrymore didn't, and would never get if he stayed at home and stitched his life away.

And then one day a particularly nice bard, smitten with Barrymore's keen curiosity about his profession (well... that's the 'story', anyway...) began to encourage his modest talent and feed his voracious appetite for history, stories, music, and knowledge whenever he passed through. He knew the day would come when Barrymore, too, would set out to discover the horizons far beyond any realm of his imagination, and begin to share his own tales (and remarkable performance abilities) with the folks he met. 

Finally, over the objections of his aunt and uncle, Barrymore assembled a collection of gear and his life savings (as well as his best entertainer's outfit, lute, and stunning singing voice) and set out on the rode, armed with his bit of training and vowing to earn his living as a performer, not a tailor! On the road he has encountered many creatures and peoples, taken part in many different adventures, and stunned audiences in many a fair town. 

Notable Quotes: 
--"Surely you caught my Hamlet in Rel Mord...? Really, it was fantastic, if I do say so myself. Everyone was raving! The critics said, "Barry: More!" How could I argue?" 

Notable Deeds: 
Barrymore has received the Favor of both the Barony of Woodwych and the Church of Pholtus, as well as Rolan (Cleric of Heironeous). He has been proclaimed a Hero of the Realm, and was a Savior of Adrean's Landing. Barrymore has also been personally introduced to and received the personal thanks of Count Cunal Huldane of Mowbrenn, Durinken the High Priest of Rao, and the Count of Brackenmoor. He has some small influence with Duke Grevin Damar of the Duchy of Flinthill and the Mistwatch Citadel in the Flinty Hills. Barrymore is a member of the Oerth Theatre Association, and a Licensed Adventurer.


----------



## Mr Vergee

Love the idea! May the best character win!

My character’s name is Angelo. He’s a slim, tall young man, only seventeen years old. His shoulders are broad and his arms are muscled from doing the dirty work on his stepfather’s farm during his youth. His skin is bronzed, his hair is pitch black and tied together in a tail. He has a serious demeanor which is reflected by the stern look in his gray eyes. He has a thin moustache which runs on to join his fine beard.

Angelo is the bastard son of a travelling gypsy. His mother had an affair with the man while he was passing through the village. This resulted in her last son, Angelo. When he was born, it was immediately evident that farmer Simon was not his father. Angelo had the traits of his gypsy forefathers written all over him. Farmer Simon beat up Angelo’s mother so badly that she had to stay in bed for weeks and could never bear children again.

Angelo grew up enduring his stepfather’s anger and aggression. Any excuse was enough to give the poor boy a beating. His half brothers were only too happy to join their father in the fray. Still, Angelo took this treatment stoically and developed an inner strength to withstand the punishment he was given. Whatever didn’t kill him, made him stronger. 

Angelo’s adventuring career began when his village was attacked by hobgoblins and most of the villagers killed. The survivors were saved by soldiers from a neighbouring country and taken across the border. There all able-bodied young men were forced to join the army. This fate didn’t displease Angelo, though, since it would give him the chance to prove his worth and be appreciated for it.

Angelo, male human Ftr4/Bbn1, 1m82 tall, hp 41, init +2 (Dex), Spd 40 ft.; AC 22 (+2 Dex, +6 Chain shirt +2, +2 buckler +1, +1 ring of Protection +1, +1 Amulet of Natural Armor +1); Atk +11 melee (d8+6/crit 19-20, Longsword +3) or +7 (d8/crit x3, Longbow); SQ Rage (1/day), Fast Movement; AL CG; SV Fort +9, Ref +4, Will +2; Str 17, Dex 14, Con 14, Int 13, Wis 10, Cha 11.
Skills: Climb +6, Jump +7, Listen +6, Ride +9, Spot +5, Swim -4. Feats: Dodge, Expertise, Improved Disarm, Improved Trip, Mobility, Spring Attack.
Possessions: Bag of Holding, Ring of Sustenance, Eyes of the Eagle, Glove of Storing, Cloak of Resistance +1, Chain Shirt +2, Buckler +1, Ring of Protection +1, Amulet of Natural Armor +1, Longsword +3, Longbow with 50 arrows.

Angelo’s longsword consists of two woven blades and catches fire when he wields it.


----------



## Baastet

*Minolin "The Mouse"*

*Basic Information: * 
Name: Minolin
A.K.A: The Mouse, Min, The Meanest Thing In Pigtails This Side Of Hellgate Keep.
Human Rogue 2/ Sorcerer 1  
Age: 13
*Location:*
Forgotten Realms

*Description:* Minolin is 4'6 in height and weighs about 75 pounds. She has bright brown eyes that dart this way and that catching everything within their gaze. Her black hair is worn either in a short ponytail or pigtails tied with whatever baubles and string she can find. She has an angelic face with freckles that lightly dust her button nose and on her right cheek has a seemingly permanent dirt smudge. The only thing that mars the image of innocence is the knowing smirk that comes from having seen to much of "humanity". The only thing matching on Minolin is the pair of throwing daggers she keeps hidden up the voluminous sleeves of a oversized tunic, both of which (tunic & daggers) she won off a Dwarf in a dicing game. She has patched and frayed trousers with a hole starting to wear in one knee. These are tucked into old scuffed and battered floppy boots.  Usually perched on her shoulder parrot-like is her familiar, a fluffy orange kitten.

*Personality:* Despite the look of abject poverty she carefully cultivates, Minolin is actually doing rather well for herself. She is a first rate pick pocket and a daring young entrepreneur. Her latest business venture is making "Potions of the Lion". This is a concoction of high proof alcohol of various types mixed with  alumn into a noxious smelling brew. She adds a couple of over ripe berries for color and a quick cast of Nystul's Magic Aura on the mix. She claims that the hairs of the lion, seen in the vial, (actually from a poor bewildered tomcat she caught in the alley) lend their vitality and potence to the men who imbibe it. She has the solution of offering a part of the profits to certain ladies of negotiable affections, who then offer it to their patrons. She is quick of wit and of feet, not hesitating to flee when the tide turns against her. She is more than capable in a fight; most opponents discount her presense entirely until one of those knives flashes out into a tender area. Despite her years she can handle herself with surprising decorum when it is called for. She is a pint-sized cynic but fiercely loyal to those who have earned her trust and respect.

*Background:* Minolin was born into the world of the Citadel of the Raven, last stronghold of the Zhentarim. Her mother died in childbirth, Her father was never known. She was adopted by a prostitute by the name of Serida. Her life was brutal and painful. Until one day an up and coming Zhent mage stumbled on a little girl who’s cunning belied her age. She was taken by the mage, Jhedrim to train and use as his personal informant. It was through Jhedrim she learned the ways of stealth and earned her nickname of The Mouse, for she was small and quiet and quick.  As she grew up Jhedrim  noticed Minolin had a talent for magics. He fostered and encouraged Minolin's experimentation with her innate magics. Jhedrim hoped to one day harness them one day making her an even more potent agent prehaps even his personal assasin. Minolin worked steadily for her master digging up dirt on all his rivals and feeding false information to their spies. Until one day Jhedrim got himself killed after she gave him bad information. She had been duped and knew that her days were numbered. She had no other choice but to flee.  She stowed away on a ship, squeezing her way into a thin crevice to avoid detection by the crew. She emerged at night using all her skills at stealth to steal water and crumbs left over in the galley. It was also on the ship she found her familiar, a flame-colored kitten named Bungry. When the ship docked in Skullport it brought more than it's haul of pirated goods. It also brought the Mouse to Waterdeep. 

Minolin is originally a character from 2nd edition that I got to make but never play, as our game quickly broke up due to Desert Storm. But always I loved her. I recently have ressurected and updated her for 3rd edition and am currently playing her in my husband's campaign. ^_^

edited for typos


----------



## Verdigris

Jacc Swinn, the Swindler Bard:


Ol' Jacc is the epitome of the raffish bawd: he sings poorly but makes up for it in volume. He can always be counted on for a good story (most of which prominantly feature himself). Jacc Swinn always tells the truth, but only if it makes a good story.

Jacc fancies himself comely, and is undoubtedly handsome in a rough-hewn sort of way. He sports a brass tooth and energetically courts the ladies. Jacc Swinn neither brushes twice a day, nor is he adverse to smelling of salami. Fortunately, he does not object to others sporting the same qualities.

He wears a multi-hued cloak patched together from various sources. Bells and baubles jangle from every button on his outfit. His shoes are often mismatched. He keeps a whistle tied to his neck that he suspects has magical properties -- if for no other reason than when he gets to blowing it, his friends dissappear. 

Swinn fights masterfully with a most unlikely weapon: he wields a long, dented clarion (a sort of straight bugle blown by mideavil heralds and such). He is chaotic and self-absorbed, but fundamentally decent sort of fellow. He is like a wild uncle that never grew up.

His main sidekick is a giant pair of voluptuous magical lips with the unlikely name of..."Lips". Having been magically saddled to Swinn as the result of a curse (by a powerful sorceress who objected to a kiss he gave to her daughter...which Swinn subsequently denied), Lips floats behind Swinn and offers sarcastic commentary on Swinn's activities. Although Swinn is now powerful enough to have absented himself from this unlikely companion, some soft spot in him has prevented him from doing so.


----------



## Buddha the DM

Aust Liadon
Half-Elven Ranger
32 years old
Mid-back length Black Hair (kept pulled back in a ponytail to keep it out of his eyes), Ice Blue Eyes
5 ft 2 in, 142 lbs

Aust was raised in the forest by his parents who were both rangers. At a young age his family was ambushed by a band of goblins that were lead by a particularly nasty orc. Quickly his parents shoved him into the forest's underbrush. In chaos of the ensuing battle Aust's parents we killed by the orc, and his band, while Aust watched helplessly from his hiding spot. After the battle the raiders searched the area for Aust but they had no luck in finding him. Once the orc, and the remaining goblins, had left Aust crawled from his hiding spot and over to his parents' bodies where he mourned over them for 3 days. At the end of his period of mourning Aust spent the next day digging 2 graves for his parents. Aust took his father's longbow, and his mother's longsword, before placing the bodies into the graves gently into the graves that he had dug. With the bodies in their graves, and the graves filled in and marked, Aust gathered what was left of his families' supplies and headed off into the deep forest. Ever since the attack on his family, Aust has wandered his home forest protecting travelers of all sorts from a distance so the same thing would not happen to them.
----

I have included what I think is the valid parts of Aust's character sheet. If you want more info than what I have given from his character sheet you can go here. Aust's prefered mode of attack is with his composite longbow. He keeps his longsword strapped to his back underneath his backpack and bedroll when not in use.

----
<b>Aust Liadon:</b> Male Half-Elf Ranger 2; Medium-sized Humanoid (Elf); HD 2d8; hp 16; Init +2; Spd 30 ft; AC 15, touch 12, flat-footed 13 (+2 Dex, +3 Armor); Base Atk +2; Grp +3; Atk +3 melee (1d8+1/19-20/x2, Longsword) or +5 ranged (1d8/x3, Masterwork Composite Longbow); Full Atk +3 melee (1d8+1/19-20/x2, Longsword) or +5 ranged (1d8/x3, Masterwork Composite Longbow); SQ Favored Enemy (Magical Beast +2), Half-Elf Traits, Low-light Vision, Wild Empathy +2; AL NG; SV Fort +3, Ref +5, Will +1; Str 13, Dex 15, Con 11, Int 11, Wis 13, Cha 11.

<i>Skills & Feats:</i> Diplomacy +2, Gather Information +2, Hide +7, Knowledge (Nature) +7, Listen +7, Move Silently +7, Search +1, Spot +7, Survival +6; Point Blank Shot, Rapid Shot, Track.

<i>Combat Style (Ex):</i> Aust has selected archery. He gains the Rapid Shot feat without the normal prerequisites.

<i>Possessions</i>: Masterwork studded leather (AC +3, MDB +5, ACP 0, ASF 15%, 20 lbs), masterwork composite longbow, quiver (2 each with 20 arrows), longsword, backpack, bedroll, waterskin, sack, explorer's outfit, flint & steel, trail rations (3 days), signet ring, <i>potion of cure light wounds</i> (5), 37 gp, and 3 sp.


----------



## Jon Potter

Ixin is my wife's PC and I think she's a rather clever creation. She pulls in ideas and mechanics from many disparate sources (Green Ronin Publishing, Malhavoc Press, Dragon Magazine, Malladin's Gate Press, Badaxe Games, and Mongoose Publishing, to name the biggest influences) to create an exotic but never the less cohesive character concept.

Ixin is a draconic drakeling from a renaissance-era world who came to my dragonless, medieval campaign world in a rather spectacular fashion.



> A roiling knot of luminescent cloud began to swirl in the air above the barnyard. Lightning crackled and the wind whipped and swirled. Fat Gurnie had time only to gasp and stare dumbly before the center of the cloud dilated, revealing a glittering black hole in the sky. Over the howl of the wind could be heard the increasing sound of a woman screaming. The screaming grew louder and louder and an instant later, a woman fell out of the hole. She belly-flopped in the barnyard with a bone-jarring thud and her screaming stopped abruptly.
> 
> The black hole in the sky began to close, but not before it also vomited out a gleaming sword that tumbled end over end through the air. Gurnie found himself unable to move, his eyes transfixed by the sword tumbling toward him blade over pommel. For an instant he was sure that he was going to be skewered by the falling weapon, but it embedded itself in the ground at his feet. Gurnie watched the blade's basket hilt waggle back and forth in the air and suddenly realized that he hadn't been breathing. He sucked in a lungful of air and took a frightened step backward.
> 
> The woman groaned and started to get to her feet. As she rose, Fat Gurnie's first thought was that she was beautiful. The next was that she was huge, standing fully half-a-head taller than he did. And finally, as he got a more complete look at her, he thought that he might be in serious trouble. She was dressed in fine - if a bit odd - clothing: leather boots and pantaloons, a frilly shirt beneath a tight-fitting leather vest and jerkin. Over it all, she wore a voluminous cloak trimmed in cloth-of-gold. Her head was bare and surmounted by fiery red hair, pulled back in a thick braid that hung to the middle of her broad back. Her complexion was ruddy and as she regarded him with honey-yellow eyes, he thought that he saw fine, iridescent scales on her cheeks and along the line of her strong jaw. Her sparklingly white teeth might have been a little pointed.
> 
> "Nunca confíe em um pixie," she grumbled as she dusted herself off and looked in the direction of the closed gate. "Näo podem ajudar-lhe mas fazer batota."




Born 125 years ago on the Io's Blood Islands far out in the great Western Ocean, Ixin has, much to her disgust, spent the last several decades as a pampered prisoner in the Imperial City of Highgate in the County of Bluffside on the western coast of Castillia.



> "My name is Ixin, daughter of Ventisjir the Red, granddaughter of Lady Dominor Corastrixarosvith of Clan Vermillion," she said as she sheathed Arivivexoth at her hip, "Ur-Corastrixarosvith serves as Grand Councillor for Clan Vermilion to the Council of Wyrms. Her daughter, my mother, Ventisjir the Red, is a Clan Champion."
> 
> She spoke the litany without much interest or conviction. She'd repeated her lineage enough times in the last decades that it had ceased to impress her much anymore. But it was impressive, she knew, for Skrazargul the Green and his sons Drakes Thuulsias, Irthos, and Ulric made her repeat it often, their eyes flickering with lust and greed at each syllable. It was a gem in the horde for any Green Dragon, even one of Ur-Skrazargul's age and wealth, to have in his holding one of the lineage of Cr'Corastrixarosvith. Even though she only shared 1/4 of the Lady Dominor's fiery blood, Ixin knew that she was an important trophy for Skrazargul the Green. Not only was he naught but a Green, but neither did he claim clanblood on the Council; he had left the Dragon Isles to live in the human lands of Mid'gaard. But it was this very fact that made him attractive to Clan Vermilion who retained little of their former influence among the lesser races. So she, Ul-Ixin, was the linchpin of an elaborate political marriage of two Dragon Houses.




Given her lineage, it is not surprising that Ixin is a sorcerer with a proclivity for fire magic, who hopes to one day become a full-fledged dracomancer. In the meantime, she is unafraid to use her natural claws or her morningstar once her not-inconsiderable spells are exhausted. The intelligent cutlass, Arivivexoth, she never uses in combat, although its continuous Tongues ability allows her to communicate so long as the weapon is in her possession.



> Once the townsfolk were convinced that she wasn't some type of demon, they warmed to her rather quickly. They pawed her mercilessly of course, clutching at her magical cloak, running their hands over the fine scales on her cheeks, marveling at the small horns that were all but hidden in her hairline. It was much the same treatment she experienced from Drake Irthos and more than a few of the more aggressive Hands in the Dragon's Claw. Of course, the townsfolk lacked the lecherous smirks and lascivious glances that were so common to all of Skrazargul's underlings.




Age: 125 (young by drakeling standards)
Sex: female
Height: 6ft. 2 in.
Weight: 215 lbs.
Hair: Red
Eyes: Gold
Skin: Coppery Red
Handedness: Right


----------



## Marius Delphus

*Akbar the Almost-Insane*

High-level Elf Wild Mage and pseudodragon familiar.

_A little insanity is good for the soul._

As if being a 6’2", bald elf wasn’t enough to make him a little kooky, Akbar fell in love with the manipulation of magical chaos. With a passion for magic and magical items, Akbar has made a career out of terrifying his friends with unpredictable spells, and a complete disbelief that anything bad could come out of his magic. _Reckless dweomer_ is not just a spell…it’s a way of life.

Even when spells don’t turn out even remotely as anticipated, Akbar has made the mantra of, "Is that not wonderful? Look at what I have done with my magic!!" a cornerstone in his life.

Adorned with magical rings, necklaces, bracers, boots, and cloak, and armed with a _staff of power_ and _staff of the magi_ (twisted into one big staff with a _wish_), Akbar wanders the world looking for magic and fun. 

Though the bright mischievous twinkle in his eye is often mistaken for utter madness, in reality Akbar just sees the world from a little different perspective that allows him to believe that it’s all good. There is no doubt in his mind that the chaotic forces of magic will one day save the races from the perils they face.

With his pseudodragon familiar "Mayhem" on his shoulder, Akbar constantly is looking to help his friends by empowering them with the magic that he truly believes they need to make their lives complete. Unfortunately, not all of his friends understand this philosophy; in fact, they sometimes seem to think he is out to kill them. Luckily he sleeps lightly. But someday they’ll all understand just how wonderful Akbar's magic really is.


----------



## ForceUser

*Reverend Jon Falco* is a human cleric of Pelor, god of the sun. Born and raised in Suundi, he is slightly taller than average with a slim muscular build and short, sandy blond hair. His blue eyes are set in a tanned, friendly face framed by laugh lines and centered on an aquiline nose. He wears masterwork full plate armor of golden steel that shimmers dazzlingly in bright sunlight and is adorned with images of the Shining One. His holy symbol is an ancient Flan amulet enhanced with a persistent _protection from evil_ effect. He carries a heavy darkwood shield painted white with a golden image of Pelor and wields a powerful mace called the _Rod of the Shining One_, bequeathed to him by an angel of his god. The rod is four feet long and ornate, and the head is a depiction of Pelor's wrathful visage. It possesses all the powers of a _sun blade_ as well as the blessed and wondrous ability to critically hit undead. Reverend Falco is a theologian and a peaceful man at heart, but when called to defend the faithful he is a tireless and implacable foe of darkness.


----------



## DonAdam

*Worth a shot*

Sarin is an aasimar monk.  He serves Ilmater (Forgotten Realms god of endurance, suffering, and healing), and as such dresses in tattered gray clothes trimmed with dark red. His bushy, black hair reaches down to his shoulders, with a single longer braid hanging from the left side of his head that is tied off with a simple red ribbon.  He wears sandles with straps going partway up his ankles to secure the bottom of his pants, providing maximum mobility.  His hands are wrapped in strips of dirty red cloth. The only adornment on his body is a black sash around his waste covered in red runes.

Scars litter his skin, as he spent a year imprisoned by a traitor he thought was his friend in which he was tortured and malnourished. His pale flesh is drawn tightly over his small, lithe frame.  He barely clears 5'2", and most of the time looks like a simple beggar. His eyes are usually a light yellow, but glow bright when he is focused on battle or has become angry. His demeanor switches back and forth between two extremes: a compassionate gentleness for most everyone he meets, which contrasts strongly with the intense, disciplined wrath he directs at those he considers irredeemably evil.


----------



## blueshade

Dell - Monk of the Order of Shining Fists (female dwarf; worshipper of Pelor)

Description: I stand at the 4 foot with golden eyes like sunlight and red hair like the fire.  My smile isn't perfect, for a lost my top front inscisor from my Orc enslaver and a tattoo on my right fist that I recieved shortly after I was freed.  I only wear loose cotton clothes.  They are kinda raggy now for it has been about 2 years since I have bought new ones. 

Personality: I prefer to wear my brown sandals with gold tassels on my feet, but I will go barefoot if needed.  My white cotton clothes are raggy, but all well whatever works.  They serve their purpose.  Nothing is exposed.  My pants are all but held upon my waist by a golden colored sash.  It is fairly abundant in fabric so I can hide things such as a vial or two of potions and some monies. My bedroll is home to everything else I carry.  The silk rope that once belonged to my father is tied around my bedroll nice and tight so I can just sling it over my shoulder, for a snap of one's fingers is the same as the snap of one's neck.  I travel lightly, so that I have everything all ready at a moment's notice.  The trick is to know thy enemy and be quicker than they are.  My belief is that all peoples are created equally but some choose the wrong paths to follow and sometimes they make others suffer from their gains.  Slavery shall not be tolerated in my opinion, for it is the one flaw that I have found in some laws.  It just should not exist to be.  I use my strength to combine with my wits in a lethal combination so that I can enforce justice in this sometimes cruel world.  Every sacrifice that I make personally is only for the better good.

Favorite Saying:  "Slavery they can have anywhere.  It is a weed that grows in every soil."

Background:  I am the daughter of a merchant's slave ... making me a merchant serf from Stoneheim, the capital of Pomarj.  There I worked trying to pay off my deceased parents' debts until I was brought out of my endentured life by a monk who won me in a contest of wits and fists.  Upon my freedom I was able to learn from my new friend, Mego Yinn, who became known to me as my master, for that is what a student aptly calls his teacher.  The tattoo that I bear has on my right fist has significant meaning to me.  It consists of 4 axe blades rotating clockwise.  The left and right axes, which are orange, are symbolic of the sun rising and setting showing the beginning and end of a day.  The top axe, which is red, signifies noon when the sun is at it highest in the sky and also the hottest part of the day. Whereas, the bottom axe, which is blue, represents the sun down resting wisely preparing for a new day thus showing night.  I wear this mark proud as my master always said, "explorers have to be ready to die lost."  I am not sure I truly understand what he meant by that but I will continue traveling and seeking out justice for those like my family and seek out the truth in this life.  Living the part of a student was my symbiotic life up until the wrongful death of my master/saviour, whom I lost in Sunndi about a year ago.  Now as I wear the rings of my master, I seek out knowledge and self mastery through adventuring with an elven magics-user by the name of Destin Gimac and a roguish fighter by the name of Drago.  I travel with my companions only to keep them out of trouble, for Destin is only a magic wielder, not one of fists, and Drago thinks he knows anything and everything.  All peoples have the right to be protected just the same as the next.  I am trying to live as how I had been for 10 years with my master, but focusing on law and order is not always as easily dealt.  For example, when I see a chained being something within me just snaps and I lose all control of everything that I have been taught.  Nothing but the task at hand matter to me then.
I am now on a quest that I have received in a vision from the all might Pelor himself to travel to the city of Greyhawk.  In my vision I was told "when darkness falls" which I hope to find what this means.  I have now journeyed to Greyhawk with my companions.


----------



## mkletch

Figured I'd toss in my latest character for a shot.  Thanks to Kai Lord for the opportunity, and best of luck to all.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Veqh is new to the Forgotten Realms, and an alien land it is.  Created by Silpion, a Solar in the service of Lathander the Morninglord, Veqh is an Astral Deva not yet achieved of his full glory (Astral Deva lvl 8).  Created with a single epic purpose, to destroy an evil artifact capable of creating nearly limitless numbers of undead, he searches the realms with dedicated purpose.  When the artifact is found, he will succeed in destroying it by whatever means are necessary.  Until then, Veqh seeks undead and their cruel creators, dealing justice to the masters and final death to the unliving.

Veqh stands just over 7 feet tall, with bronze-brown skin and brown hair with metallic gold highlights.  His eyes glow with a faint but holy white light.  His wingspan is nearly 15 feet, and he has practiced and perfected the art of flight with his glorious white, feathered wings.  Unlike many of his celestial bretheren, Veqh has adapted to many of the customs of the realms with regard to clothing styles.  He wears a brocade vest of white, emblazoned with gold and silver dragons.  A heavy torc of white gold sits close about his neck.  Pants and a long sleeved shirt of maroon silk, plain leather gloves and boots finish his 'costume' as he sees it.

But this pampered dress is often catches evil creatures off-guard, for Veqh is a powerful warrior for all righteous causes.  Beneath his clothing, he wears a suit of elven chainmail, specially adapted to his inhuman physiology.  In the customary manner of his kind he wields maces, one heavy and one light.  With muscles rippling, two mighty arms wield two mighty weapons, all the better to subdue or destroy wrongdoers with alacrity.  He possesses a large bow, but more often than not rushes into close contact, for justice is best meted out at arm's length.

Bashing foes in close combat, healing allies, and being a rock upon which the tides of the enemy break to no effect - these are the deeds for which Veqh of Lathander is noted by his companions.  With his brilliant and holy aura surrounding him, Veqh is a beacon of justice and a warning to the unjust.



> *Veqh:* Male Astral Deva 8; Medium-sized Outsider (Good); *HD* 6d8+18; *hp* 58; *Init* +3; *Speed* 50ft, fly 75ft (perfect); *AC* 27, touch 14 (+3 Dex, +7 natural, +6 armor, +1 deflection; never flat-footed); *Base Atk* +6; *Grapple* +9; *Atk* +11 melee (1d8+5/x2, Heavy Mace +2) or +9 ranged (1d8+2/x3, Mighty (+2) Composite Longbow); *Full Atk* +9/+4 melee (1d8+5/x2, +2 Heavy Mace) and +2 melee (1d6+2, +1 Ghost Touch Light Mace), or +9/+4 ranged (1d8+2/x3, Mighty (+2) Composite Longbow); *SA* Spell-like abilities; *SQ* Damage reduction 5/+1, darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, immunity to electricity, protective aura, fire resistance 5, spell resistance 18, tongues, uncanny dodge; *AL* LG; *SV* Fort +9 (+13 vs. poison), Ref +9, Will +9; Str 16, Dex 16, Con 16, Int 14, Wis 16, Cha 20.
> 
> *Protective Aura (Su):* As a free devas can surround themselves with a nimbus of light having a radius of 20 feet. This acts as a double-strength magic circle against evil and as a minor globe of invulnerability, both as cast by a sorcerer whose level equal to the deva’s Hit Dice. The aura can be dispelled, but the celestial can create it again as a free action on its next turn.
> 
> *Tongues (Su):* Astral devas can speak with any creature that has a language, as though using a tongues spell cast by a 14th-level sorcerer. This ability is always active.
> 
> *Spell-Like Abilities:* _3/day_ - aid, cure light wounds, continual flame, detect evil, dispel magic, invisibility sphere, remove curse, remove disease, remove fear, see invisibility.  These abilities are as the spells cast by a sorcerer of level equal to the deva's hit dice (save DC 15 + spell level).
> 
> *Uncanny Dodge (Ex):* Astral devas are never caught flat-footed and cannot be flanked.
> 
> *Skills & Feats:* Concentration +13, Diplomacy +9, Intimidate +9, Knowledge (Arcana) +10, Knowledge (Religion) +10, Knowledge (Planes) +10, Listen +16, Move Silently +3, Sense Motive +12, Spot +16; Common, Celestial, Chondathan, Draconic, Illuskan, Infernal, Undercommon; Armor Proficiency (Light), Two-Weapon Fighting, Improved Flight.
> 
> *Possessions:* _+1 mithril chainmail_ (AC +6, MDB +6, ACP -1), _+2 heavy mace_, _+1 ghost touch light mace_, mighty (+2) composite longbow, quiver with 20 arrows, _torc of the goddess +1 (MoF)_, masterwork potion belt, _potion of cure light wounds_, belt pouch, 7-500gp gems, 4-200gp gems, 4-100gp gems, 2-50gp gems, 5cp, 24sp, 14gp.




_Editied to include the ever-popular stat block._

-Fletch!


----------



## Dragonhelm

*Nighthawk*

Nighthawk is a Kagonesti (wild elf).  He stands about 5 1/2 feet tall.  He has an almost Native American appearance to him.  His body is covered in various tattoos and body art, each depicting an animal.

His most noticeable tattoo is that of a black hawk on his face.  The wings go across his eyes, the tail on his nose, and the head rises from his eyes to his forehead.

Nighthawk is a beastmaster.  Amongst his animals are a squirrel, a cougar, an eagle, a wolf, and a wolverine.

Nighthawk wears buckskins, with some fringe here and there.  His boots have a white fur top.

Nighthawk's eyes are an eerie yellow color, hinting at death.


----------



## Dragonhelm

*Tagar and Whitefang*

I don't know if we can have more than one entry or not.  If so, here's my second one.  If not, then ignore this.

This may be a bit munchkiny, as it was one of my first characters.

------------------------------------

Tagar is a tiger-man, standing 5'4" tall.  He appears as an orange bengal tiger, with a white stripe down his head.  Tagar is accompanied by friend, companion, and steed - Whitefang.  Whitefang is a white tiger.

Whitefang has a black saddle that lies on top of a brown fur saddle blanket.  Black saddle bags adorn the saddle.  Also, Whitefang has barding that goes up his back towards the top of his head.  Note that Whitefang has no halter or reins.

Tagar wields two longswords, each one with a cat eye emblem.  The one in his right hand is a bluish-white cat eye, that has a blue-white aura about it, generating cold.  The other is a fiery red eye, with a fire aura about it.


----------



## Sinistar

Francis Greenleaf, Half-elf Bard.

Often known to his friends simply as "bard". As in, "hmm, looks dangerous, chunk the bard at it". Son of a druid/mage (elf) and a bar matron, Francis grew to adult hood in a small cross-roads inn. His mother taught him to sing, and he proved to be very adept at anything he put his mind to. 

He began as your typical wandering adventurer, putting his hand to various tasks. It was not until after his mother died (old age) that he gave any thought to who or what his father might be. 

Paying an exhorbitant rate to an old sage, he tracked down his father. The senior Greenleaf had known nothing of the boy. By this time he was the senior druid amongst his peers, and a powerful mage besides. As both Greenleaf's proved to be stubborn and arrogant, their first meeting turned into a wash.

For many years the two were at odds. Assisting each other in endeavors where needed, but unable to hold a pleasant conversation for very long. Francis accompanied his father (and friends) through Dragon Mountain where he earned the nickname of "bardic sheath". Any time someone's grip slipped on their weapon it seemed to find Francis...

Francis migrated across planes to the Forgotten Realms where he quickly became just another bard on a street corner in Waterdeep. However, adventures followed one upon the other until he became a recognized name amongst some of the better circles. Occasionally invited to sing and to play harp in some of the upper-middleclass homes, he began to be known for his skill and (often times) discression. 

During one adventure he found one of the fabled "King's Tears". He immediately recognized it for what it was and squirrled it away. When the time came, he planned to offer it as a sacrifice to his god (Oghma) for his heart's desire. 

While quick witted, Francis is often known to outsmart himself, and this was no exception. In seeking information about King's Tears, Francis found that they were often sacred to the church of Melikke. Francis took the gem to the church in Waterdeep and offered a deal. He would give them the gem if they would give him something of equal value to present to Oghma.

The priestess agreed and took the gem. She gave him the knowledge of a fabled harp that had been crafted by the god himself. It had been given to a faithful follower in the past, but due to its powers had been hidden from the god. By granting the gift, Melikke gave the knowledge back to Oghma. Francis (and friends) journeyed to the heart of the High Forest and secured the harp from the clutching hands of demons, Talos worshipers and undead. 

Currently Francis is recovering from wounds and learning the powers of the great harp.

Francis is 5'4" about 140 pounds. Fairly slim with slightly curly shoulder length brown hair. He has a quick laugh and an almost inhumanly beautiful voice. (Nat King Cole or Jim Reeves good!)


----------



## Sinistar

Sebastian Van Der Gryphon, Priest of Cuthbert, Order of the Guardian Shield. (Cleric 6/ Divine Agent 3)

For 17 generations the Van Der Gryphons have been in the service of St. Cuthbert. An unbroken line of Priests, Paladins, Monks and other functionaries who have paid homage to the god of the Cudgel. Family history states that one of these ancestors fought along side St. Cuthbert before he ascended to godhood.

Sebastian was born only son to the great paladin Justin Van Der Gryphon. A bright child, he was often left in the care of his mother (and after her unfortunate death), or the local clergy as his father was off righting wrongs and providing order. 

Growing up in the great man's shadow was sometimes dificult. Justin was a hard man, firm in his convictions and always correct about what the "right" way to do something was. Sebastian didn't rebel as such, he had a great love for the Lawgiver as well, but he felt that the cold justice of the church left something to be desired. 

At a young age, Sebastian found an Order among the church that felt much as he did. The Order of the Guardian Shield felt that it was as important to protect those in St. Cuthbert's care as it was to destroy that which was evil. This order devote themselves to protecting all who need asistance, and to lifting up the downtrodden.

Not too long after Justin's death at the hands of fiends, Sebastian got his first calling to be a wandering cleric. He travelled the lands, often searching out writings of his father and holding a private debate with him in his own journalings. 

However, among these travels, he heard the voice of St. Cuthbert clearly in his own heart. And found he was called to be Cuthbert's voice among the people. His sudden direct connection both proved what Sebastian had felt all along, and contradicted it. He found more often that the best way to protect those in his charge was to seek out those who would harm them and to destroy them. This dichotomy is at the heart of his internal turmoil, but to the outside world he remains staunch and devoted to his cause.

Sebastian stands 5'10" and is about 180. He wears a white enameled breastplate with the symbol of Cuthbert in the center. His Shield is probably the greatest treasure he holds. It is chevron and made of sturdy steel. It is also white enameled with the symbol of the order emblazoned on the outside in brass and steel.


----------



## Kaji

*A Wonderful Thing, Thanks KaiLord!*

Ahem.

I'm certain this will go no where, 'cause all the big folk ever do is yap and curse like sailors..but..I am Carlos the Red, the Blue, the EverFine to you...!!!! I'll not bore you with long tales of ancestral might, my people have been tending the earth and pulling the hoods down over the ears of the big folk longer than I care to imagine. It's enough to know that I see them rarely, if at all, but they are all good looking gnomes like myself, although a bit too...pedestrian...form my taste. And I don't mean that literaly, I'm not some ghoulish flesheater, not like some I've known.

The Red? The Blue? What's this, some inane gnomish rhyme? You would know when you felt the cool icy drip of my control slip over your being, when you started to march around in circles like my monkey friend is inclined to do. (A prehensile tale really does look useful, maybe I should look at getting one attached). Or when you felt the breath escape and clutch you...and you would find my kind, gentle eyes staring slowly at you, whispers of love and loss washing over you, driving you deeper, til there is no more you, and only I remain.

My robes are an unpleasant red and blue mix. I tried to have them died black, or white, or anything. I bought new robes several times. They always get...stained somehow when my talent manifests...hehehe...

I decided to shave my head, cause I was sick of having it trimmed. I'm not big on tatoos like some Mindbenders get, and I travel simply, not with some bag full of gadgets I'd have to spend all day fixing. What hair I've left is dark, dark, dark...but sometimes white. Those are nice days...

I can hear the whispering all the time, ALL THE TIME, so it's hard to live amongst anyone for any length of time. Short adventures, get some money, and remove the memories of everyone involved..that's my motto. 

I hear there's this demon gate up in the far North, maybe you and I should head up there for a spell...just you, me, and my monkey friend?

[Psion 13]


----------



## Goddess FallenAngel

*At the last minute, as usual...*

This was a character that I played in 2nd edition D&D. I played her from the time she ended up in Faerun until she raided the Keep (see below).

I ported her over to 3rd, which is what the description is based off of, but I only have history up to _right_ before I started playing her in 3rd edition.

Well, here goes...

Physical Appearance 

T’aria is one of the rare cambions (half fiend, half human) that survived to adulthood. When first met, she would be constantly mistaken for a satyr… except for the fact that there are no female satyrs, and satyrs are not six-foot-one in height. Her fiendish heritage is difficult to hide in her physical appearance, although she can do so from all except the most observant when she wishes. She has 3-inch forehead horns, goat legs complete with cloven hooves, slight fangs noticeable when she smiles, and claws that even when retracted are often noted as unfashionably long and sharp fingernails. Ignoring those physical attributes, she has the appearance of a rather attractive human female of about 24 years of age (though she is truly over 100). T’aria has long, thick curly black hair with striking deep red highlights shot through it. Her hair falls past her waist, and is naturally falls into that attractive, semi-wild, tumbled curls state many women struggle to achieve. She will often plait small silver and crystal beads into it using small, hardly-noticeable braids for an accent. She always has at least two tiny, (unnoticeable in the wild mass of hair) finger-length poisoned silver daggers in sheaths that are braided into the mass of hair above her shoulders. Naturally, these are “Just for emergencies.”

While in her home city of Sigil or elsewhere where her demonic heritage is not a cause for immediate panic, T’aria generally wears more daring attire consisting of a black leather shorts that reveal her legs and cloven hooves, as well as a leather-and-silk top. The top is a simple band of black leather wide enough to cover her ample chest with a network of thin straps to hold it over her shoulders. A foot-wide length of silver-grey sheer silk is sewed to the bottom of the leather, in effect covering her torso from just below her chest to her waist. The overall effect is of the top half of a babydoll teddy, or some similar form of lingerie. One of her companions once wondered aloud which succubus she had robbed for her wardrobe.

When T’aria travels on the Prime Material Plane (where people are generally less accepting of her heritage than the Planes, and her home city of Sigil), she generally uses her skills at disguise along with many years of practice to assume the appearance of a ‘normal’, though highly exotic, human. While in disguise, she rarely utilizes her full six-foot-one height, instead opting to stand about five foot nine, allowing to her legs (and extensive practice) to alter her apparent height. She generally wears a unique headband studded with three-inch spikes that are set two inches apart and are slightly curved to match her forehead horns perfectly. Two of the ‘spikes’ are missing, and there are holes in the headband to correspond to where they would be set; when the headband is on and her horns are through the holes, it is nearly impossible to tell that it is anything other than an unusual piece of jewelry. A full, floor-length gypsy-like skirt conceals her legs and hooves. From the waist up, however, she generally wears much more daring attire – a form-fitting black leather vest, low-cut (and laced only far enough to barely be acceptable in public) is one of her favorites. 

There is only one part of her appearance that is only rarely hidden when she travels to the Prime Material Plane. On T’aria’s right arm, she has a large design with geometrically precise and complex curves and twists tattooed to her skin. The design flows from the top of her forearm down, gradually spreading until it wraps completely around her arm at her wrist, where it ill-conceals (but serves to distract from) an old scar, which appears to have been the result of her wrist being nearly completely severed at some time in the past. The tattoo narrows and continues over the top of the back of her hand to her middle finger, on which she wears a silver ring set with a large gem that appears to be a black diamond the same smoky colour as her tattoo. The ink used replicates that smoky shadow-grey that true shadows have; and if one looks too long at the tattoo, it seems to shift slightly with her movements and breath as if it were truly a shadow projected onto the skin. When asked, T’aria merely shrugs and says it is simply a well-done tattoo – nothing more, nothing less.

Although her physical appearance is the most noticeable, T’aria has other, less blatant, traits inherited from her demonic sire. When she becomes angry, her eyes change from their normal cat-like green to a deep red, and seem to glow slightly. Her claws become excruciatingly noticeable (as she either cannot, or does not, retract them), her horns lengthen to between five and six inches, and she is surrounded by the smell of the Abyss – sulfur and brimstone. However, few people have seen her descend deep enough into anger to the point of her losing control, and fewer still have lived to tell the tale. 

History 

T'aria was born in Sigil, City of Doors, in the Outer Planes. She grew up on the streets of the Hive, one of the least savory areas of the city. Having no memory of her parents, and having the phrase “cursed spawn of the lower planes” flung at her many times, she was forced to do what she could to survive as it was clear that no help was forthcoming. Most of her childhood was spent in a struggle of survival, of attempting not to be noticed by those stronger than she, by living off of the scraps of others, and stealing from those who would not care, or would not notice. Somehow, she escaped the notice of the Thieves’ Guild in Sigil until she was 25, when she made the mistake of lifting a fat purse from one of the higher-ranking members of the Guild. The guild member, surprised at the young cambion’s audacity and self-taught skill (cambion being the name half-fiends such as herself were called), he sponsored her into the Guild. Always a dexterous individual (of both body and mind), T’aria took the training the Guild offered and rose through the ranks rapidly. As she grew more confident in her skills, she also became more confident of her wishes – to be Guildmaster of the entire Thieves’ Guild in Sigil. However, skill can only take one so far in the Guild’s hierarchy, and after she reached that glass ceiling her promotions became more and more often assisted by the mysterious resignations or deaths of those ahead of her. Although many suspected her helping her superiors to meet their gods or for blackmailing them into resigning, no evidence was ever found to indicate her in any such doings. Nonetheless, any direct superior of hers felt it wise to watch their backs, and their secrets, carefully.

In her 40th year (cambions being nearly as long-lived as their fiendish parent), T'aria was inducted into the second-highest rank of the thieves' guild (once again aided by the untimely and mysterious resignation of her immediate superior). As a member of the Shadows, T'aria was shown the history of the guild and its secrets. She was surprised to discover that the guild was headed by clerics of Mask, Lord of Shadows and God of Thieves, and was functioning as a sort of church in the heart of Sigil. This was something that the Lady of Pain, the ruler of Sigil, had forbidden - the founding of a church in her city. Historically, all others who had tried had been very swiftly punished by the Lady's harsh justice. However, the Lord of Shadows was well known for insinuating His influence into places where He wasn't wanted. As there was no actual church structure it was doubtful that the Lady even knew of the ‘church’ comprised of Mask's priests within Sigil.

T’aria was fascinated by the tenets of the God's faith, and swiftly became an acolyte Demarchess (Demarchess being a female cleric of Mask, Demarch being a male cleric of Mask). Mask seemed to favor her, for she quickly became a powerful priest, even by the standards of the eldest Demarchs. Her meteoric rise in power and rank made many of the clergy nervous, for all knew she was eyeing higher ranks... and all recalled the convenient resignations, deaths, and disappearances of those who stood in her way before. The highest Demarchs met with the Guildmaster discussed what to do about the growing threat. It was decided that they could not risk having her outright killed, as Mask quite obviously greatly favored her, and none wished to go directly against His favored. For the moment there was a standoff - T'aria had not directly or indirectly moved against any of them as of yet, but all felt she would within the next two years at a minimum. So, she was set a task that they hoped would occupy her for a good deal longer... and, if Tymora smiled upon them, would finish her threat for them. 

Cyric, God of Tyranny, Madness, Murder and Lies, and one of Mask's main adversaries, drew a great deal of his power from his worshippers on one of the Prime Material Planes named Faerun. Most of those were gathered in a place called Zhentil Keep. T'aria was sent to investigate this Zhentil Keep, and to see if there was anything she could do to sabotage or subvert worshippers from Cyric. She knew she was being ordered to an absurd and hopeless quest, but dared not refuse. She knew that the fear the other Demarchs felt was such that had she refused, there was a good chance they would simply risk having her killed instead. Although this was obviously meant as a suicide mission, there was the possibility that she could find a way to survive until she was powerful enough to return and challenge the ones who had sent her on the quest.

A portal was located that would send her to the tunnels and caverns underneath Zhentil Keep - a very carefully researched portal. It was activated, and T'aria stepped through to find herself in a dark cavern that stretched off into the darkness in either direction. After taking a few moments to investigate, she came to the conclusion that the portal was, as she had suspected, one-way. Blessing the demonic blood that allowed her to see even in the pitch black of the tunnels, she set off. After walking for but a short time, there came from ahead of her sounds of battle, echoing down the tunnels, along with flickers of light from torches. Slipping into the shadows cast by the torches, she moved forward to see a group of humans and elves battling a small horde of undead. Calculating quickly, and glad now she had taken the time to don clothing that would disguise her as human, she stepped up to assist the adventurers.

After the battle had been won, she discovered to her chagrin that one of the adventurers was a Paladin of Helm, God of Guardians. Hiding her holy symbol (the half-mask that all the faithful of the Lord of Shadows wear), T'aria introduced herself and told her story… or rather, she told a story. She said that she had been bound out of Sigil, and she had been shown a portal and told that it led to Faerun. Stepping through, she had discovered herself in a place she did not wish to be – in these tunnels. Experimentation had shown her that the portal she had traveled through was one-way, so she was now stranded with way to currently return to her home city, and no way to the surface but wandering the tunnels. As T'aria had suspected, the simple-minded Paladin readily accepted her story, backed up as it was by his truth-detecting spells. She had told the utter truth… of course, she had left a few details out, but that was immaterial. Several of the others in the party were not so trusting, as she overheard (when they thought they were out of hearing). However, she also overheard that the Paladin could not detect for evil while the group was underneath Zhentil Keep, as he had attempted earlier and had nearly been blinded. Apparently, the very walls radiated evil.

Confident for the moment of her safety, T'aria requested that she be allowed to travel with the group, at least until they could reach the surface. They agreed, introduced each of themselves, and described their purpose in the tunnels. It turned out that the group (calling themselves The Lords of the Crimson Flame) was after a Holy Sword for the paladin that was rumored to be down here somewhere. There was a great war brewing on the surface between all the goodly races and the goblinoid races, and these adventurers were to be part of the forces to combat the enemy. Currently, they were on a mission to gather all the artifacts and magic that they could find that would assist in the upcoming battles.

After recovering the paladin's holy sword (although not without quite a few battles in which T'aria endeavored to make herself useful and earn their trust), the party left the caverns and teleported back to "Zan's Keep" - the Keep currently being built by the defacto leader of the resistance versus the goblinoid armies. Once there, and introduced to the Gold Elf Bladesinger Zantriel Silverymoon, she was told more of the current situation. The army that was massing had attracted nearly every goblin, hobgoblin, kobold, orc, and like races in the northern reaches of Faerun, and a good deal from the south. It was rumored that they were being led by a race of oddly militant, intelligent orcs that called themselves the "Scro". 

Deciding she would get no better chance to ‘hide’ until she could amass enough power to challenge those who sent her here (and seeing the riches that the half-built Keep-in-progress already boasted) she offered her abilities as a scout to Zantriel. Seeing as they knew little about the Scro and their army, and had only very few true scouts, he accepted. Soon thereafter, Zan and several of his lieutenants (collectively known as the Silverlords, their old adventuring company name), decided to travel abroad attempting to gain new allies for the upcoming battle. T'aria joined them for the time being, as they would possibly come across enemy encampments or movements, and she would have a good chance to scout them out there. At least, that is what she told the Silverlords. Good luck seemed to hover about their leader, Zan - and the trip looked to be a profitable one, which had much more to do with her decision than any desire to help did.

T'aria traveled with the Silverlords on and off for close to four years. She did do a decent amount of scouting of the enemy - her skills at stealth far surpassing the security of the Scro's troops, although the Scro camps themselves were quite a bit more challenging. However, the more she learned, the more she believed that Zan's ragtag "army" of adventurers, elves, and some few squads of humans were far outclassed when it came to the Scro. Zan's troops were outnumbered at least 20 to 1. Faced with the unfailing optimism from most everyone else that the Scro would be defeated, she knew that no plans would be made for possible failure. As such, T’aria took a few steps to ensure, at the very least, her own survival. Doing a bit of research, she found a nearby portal that led back to Sigil... one that she could activate from this end. Unfortunately, the portal was one-way – she could not come back to Faerun this way. Normally, that wouldn’t matter – but she could not tell where exactly the Portal let out to, besides just “the Hive in Sigil” and she also couldn’t step through a little ahead of time to set things up on that end for her plans. But, still considering it lucky that those born in the City of Doors had the innate ability to sense portals to other Planes, she lifted a few maps of the surrounding area from the Keep and plotted the fastest and easiest course between the two. 

It was another year before the armies began clashing in earnest. And it was 6 years after T'aria was all but exiled to this Prime when what she had been expecting finally came. The Scro armies were marching across everything placed in their path. The Silverlords were spread across the continent, desperately attempting to slow the tide, and Zan was attempting to implement one last-ditch effort to block the destruction sweeping the continent. 

A contingent of Scro broke off from the main deployment and turned their march toward Zan’s Keep, having no doubt discovered that it was the safehold of one of the main generals of the opposition. Zan, or course, was not in residence – but the Keep had been being used as a barracks and training ground for new troops, and was thus a target. T’aria was one of the first to hear that the Scro were marching – and implemented the plans she had been making. Obviously, this minor little Prime Plane was going away rather soon, and she needed to be on her way back to Sigil for some important, unfinished business. As the half-trained troops gathered and attempted to prepare for the approaching enemy, she prowled her way into all the vaults, storehouses, and personal quarters of the Silverlords, picking up items that she had mentally marked over the past few years. A store of Bags of Holding and Portable Holes (easily lifted off of the Silverlords and the Lords of the Crimson Flame, each of which had expanded from simple adventuring companies into elite special forces units, as well as various other personages) carried whatever she deemed worthwhile to take. As a special ‘favor’ to Dan, Zan’s best friend and general ranking only below Zan himself, T’aria very carefully disarmed all the traps in the paranoid elf’s room, examined them for worn components, and replaced them as she left… taking everything of value in the room. Just in case the Keep should survive.

The fighting was drawing near to the Keep when she left, easily slipping past elven, human, and Scro scouts alike. Arriving at the Portal, she activated it with a quickly recited phrase. Without a glance backward, she stepped home.

Luckily, the portal led to an inconspicuous spot, and she was able to slink off without being noticed, using all her skill to do so. She contacted a few people that she knew in the Guild, and discovered that nothing had really changed in the years she had been gone. The meeting hall was in a different location, but that was moved twice a year or so anyway. She sold and traded most of what she had gained from the Keep for cash and items much more useful to her, and started making plans for dealing with the Demarchs and the Guildmaster.

So it was 3 days later that when the Demarchs and Guildmaster of the Thieves’ Guild gathered to discuss the month’s business, they found T’aria sitting in the new meeting hall (which had been locked, trapped both mystically and mundanely, and guarded magically and physically just a few minutes before). She was sitting at her ease, hooved feet up on the grand table, a glass of fine Baatorian wine from the sideboard in her hand. She smiled at them, fangs not too visible, and with her off hand whipped a poisoned dart in the direction of the Guildmaster. It took him in the throat and he dropped like a vrock on a hound archon. 

“Now that I have taken care of that nasty little bit of business,” T’aria removed her feet from the table and leaned forward so her elbows were resting on the table, wineglass to her right, fingers steepled in front of her face, “let’s take care of this month’s business, shall we?”

The fact that she was sitting at the head of the table, in the Guildmaster’s own chair, was not lost on any of the Demarchs gathered in the room. With bows ordinarily reserved for the Guildmaster, and faces showing no more emotion than they always did, the others took their places around the great table. Leaning back slightly, T’aria pushed the button mounted underneath the table that summoned the guards stationed outside the great double-doors of the room. When one of them stepped inside, she gestured at the body laying in the middle of the floor. “Have that garbage disposed of promptly.”

The guard briefly glanced around the great table, then bowed to her. “Yes, Guildmistress.”

T’aria headed the Guild for close to 50 years. Then, one day for no reason, no reason at all, Mask abandoned her.

T’aria awoke with a jolt. Fearing an assassination attempt, she rolled off her lavish bed onto a certain “safe” spot on the nightingale floor, while piercing the darkness with her demonic darkvision. Seeing nothing, and no one, in the room, she attempted to activate one of the many protective spells she had cast on herself – only to discover all her protective spells had failed. Fearing the worst, she chanted a brief word and gestured, attempting to cast a simply light spell. Only to have it fail. And worse yet… to not even feel the power answer her call. Growing desperate, and reluctant to move from her location until she discovered what had awoken her, she reached along the link to her God… only to repel herself in shock. She touched Mask, yes, as she had many times before – but instead of the normal, mildly affectionate (much as one would feel affectionate towards a possession) presence she normally contacted, she instead touched… something else. Something undeniably Mask – but cruel, and amused. As if He had been just waiting for her to reach out, she felt another surge of amusement – and then, nothing. Her divine connection to her God was severed. T’aria fell to her hands and knees in shock as pain lanced through her, the pain of a High Priestess being severed from her deity. 

She was indeed lucky that there was no assassin waiting in the wings, as she would have been an easy target for those several minutes she lie, panting, on the floor. 

After she recovered, T’aria quickly gathered a few of her things, and activated the bracers she had kept to dimension door herself out of the room. As the glowing doorway opened before her, the door to her room opened behind her. Glancing behind herself as she stepped forward, T’aria noticed several of the Shadows, along with a few Demarchs and Demarchesses stepping into the room. The glowing portal closed behind her just as one started casting and several produced weapons. 

She sighed and turned to the Planar Portal her dimension door had deposited her in front of and sighed. “Well, I lost them on this Prime before,” she murmured, recalling the first time she had been to Faerun. “At least this exile is by choice… at least until I find out what happened.” She activated the Portal and stepped through. “Hopefully, they’ve rebuilt by now…”


----------



## Da Man

*Vito of the Dwarves (as he called himself)*

Vito is an average-sized Halfling with a bit of a dark streak. His slightly-oiled, black hair is smoothed back over his head, cut just above his shoulders. He wears a loose-fitting shirt that just barely reveals a tattoo on his chest (naught but a jagged, black edge of whatever lies beneath shows through) and just barely conceals several daggers hanging from his waste. For pants, he wears tight fitting breeches that do little to hide another dagger strapped to his leg. He wears no boots or shoes, as he needs his toes for the various ‘tasks’ he does during his normal day. Most striking of all are his jet-black eyes and thinly cut eyebrows. Although small, Vito does not appear to fit the innocent Halfling mold.

Vito walks about, seeming to be without a care in the world. His lack of fear (or common sense as his comrades have been known to say) has caused more then one mishap in his life (although the effects are frequently laid on someone else’s shoulders.) Vito has an acute realization of the value of his own needs and desires, believing that if he isn’t looking out for them, no one else will. Indeed, if something does not obviously affect him, he is unlikely to give a hoot about it (unless, of course, it might put some change in his pocket.)  And so, he is rarely called to action by his fellow comrades during the regular course of an adventuring day. On most occasions, Vito’s input is viewed as ‘let’s make a decision that benefits Vito, without a single care for its effects on the rest of the world.’ Indeed, many of his stalwart companions are forced to monitor this little halfling’s behavior, as he is not above doing things that others find squeamish (or, to step out of Vito’s mind, unethical and immoral=). 

That said, when the going gets rough, his comrades are quick to call on Vito for his bravery, his skills and his loyalty. Newcomers to his band are very slow to trust in Vito. He gives them no reason to do otherwise. But, those long-standing companions know that the little rogue is rarely in the frame of mind to be taken seriously, but when all of Hades is breaking loose, companions are falling to the onslaught of the enemy and the day seems lost, it is Vito who will risk his own life to see that all make it safely away (which he has done on more then one occasion!).

And so, this last trait can be known as Vito’s Bane. For, within the vile rooms of some cavern of stone, Vito fell. Although Vito often joked about how such a motley crew of humanoids could have the gall to call this old garbage-pit-of-stone a ‘Temple of Elemental Evil’ or even that these self-proclaimed priests walked around feeling important for having a home in some god-forsaken den of foul creatures, one of their groups brought Vito to his end.

You see, Vito was quite a lady’s man. In fact, he often talked about the various races he had romanced and spent much of his hard-earned loot on wooing more. His exploits (he claimed in the bedroom, although others said it was his adventuring through the land), attracted a most hideous Halfling lass as a cohort. She could never be satiated and Vito spent much of his time hiding from her or trying to pawn her off on some of his comrades. Matilda, as she was called, was an overweight Halfling lass that wore naught but a g-string and had a greasy little rat as a familiar. Although Vito was never known for his tastes, this lass soon proved too much for him. Still, she remained his cohort and they traveled together into the ‘Caverns of Gold and Madmen’, as Vito called the Temple.

On one fateful evening, a great battle erupted and it soon became apparent that his group was no match for the likes of this enemy. As all made their way to flee, Matilda fell to a most devilish spell. Without a thought, Vito returned and made good on attempting to save the pig-like lass. Cloaked in invisibility, he administered what aid (potions) he could to the faltering she-thing (she was in the negatives) and brought her back from the brink of death. As she made good her escape, Vito locked in battle with the most fearsome foe of the enemies, giving her some time. Vito fell that fateful day, deep within that pit, and walks no more.

But, there are those who hope to one day find but a portion of his body and perhaps restore him to his former self. You can be sure that Vito will have a reckoning on his mind with one armored Troll that has quite a stink to him.


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

*Frederick of Edgewater*

Frederick of Edgewater
Ftr 2/Wiz 7/Spellsword 2

Str 14, Dex 14, Con 14, Int 16, Wis 10, Cha 10

Physical appearance: Frederick is a stern looking man of slightly shorter than average height and strong build. His light brown hair is wavy and tends to refuse all non-magical attempts to comb or manage it. A Van Dyke adorns his chin obscuring four faint evenly spaced scars along his left cheek.

Equipment:
He wears a headband of intellect designed to resemble the holy symbol of Pholtus (An emerald crescent moon in front of an alabaster moon) and openly wears a finely made suit of mithral chain shirt. His primary weapons are a silver-chased darkwood handled glaiveand a jet black longsword that seems to absorb the light as if the blade were made of darkness itself but he wears a wand on one hip as well. A plain white tabard with gold embroidery along the bottom and a shield made from the shell of a giant turtle complete the ensemble.

History:
Frederick is was born in a small town on the edge of the Troll Fens in the theocracy of the Pale and grew up driving his grandfather's cattle to market. Intrigued by the possibility that Pholtus had given humans powers over nature, he also spent time studying with the Arcanist's Guild in Wintershiven  when cattle drives took him into the city.

His career of adventure began when his grandfather sent him south to investigate the cattle market in Hatherleigh and he came to a small town where some local wanna-be adventurers had vanished investigating the ruins of an evil temple. With some trustworthy companions, he investigated the ruins of the temple and found that the cultists buried alive when the Knights Valorous collapsed the entrance had not simply starved to the death in the darkness but had been animated by the forces of darkness.

As time went on, he learned to master the magic he began learning in Wintershiven and learn how to merge it with his skill at arms. Now he is a stern crusader for justice from his home in the Theocracy of the Pale to the Duchy of Urnst.


----------



## enworldatemylogin

WYCEN ADAMANTITE

Wycen was born from a nymph and rogue drow of House Eilserv who had been banished to the surface.  Surviving sight of her the drow ravished her and left.  Vhaerun, the drow god of males, looked upon this act with approval and kept the nymph from willing herself to die until she gave birth.

Wycen is sinfully handsome half elf, with uncharacteristically white hair, supremely confident in his abilities as a thief and psionicist.  He has a long list of names for himself:  Warlock, Guildmaster, Concubine to Trin and Nishta, Sorcerer's Supreme, Father, High Laymen, etc etc.

While he wears leather armor, it's mostly for style and generally relies on his psionic abilities or vast array of magic items for protection.  His favored weapon is a weapon he liberated from an armory in the abyss, a planar broadsword, though he's just as likely to use a psychic blade to do the job.


----------



## enworldatemylogin

DAFT

A dark haired half-elf born into a poor family in Perrenland, he eventually moved to the Sultinate of Zeif where he eventually joined the preisthood of Xan Yae, in order to avoid loosing his hand for picking pockets.

A cleric by need and rogue at heart, Daft's real name was left behind as he found himself in the windy caves of Pandemonium for a time with a group of individuals who'd often mistake him for some character named Burke.

He travels about trying to "keep the balance", an idea he admittedly sometimes can't quantify, but he has faith his goddess knows what she wants him to do.

Daft often wears a chain shirt of hauberk, and has become proficient in the chosen weapon of Xan Yae, the falchion.  He often wears rings, medallions or other charms he "finds" during his various activities.


----------



## GrayIguana

*Champions of Agark*

Here are three characters to consider.  I’m submitting them separately, but some of their appeal is that they make an interesting group.  I’m not sure if a group sketch would be considered though.  

Either way, as a group they are a symbol of an Empire's might within my homebrew world.  Together they should make a real stir of things.


----------



## GrayIguana

*Kigurtha*

Kigurtha belongs to a feline-humanoid race called the Nal-Kirish.  His family had abandoned its tribe when he was a young child, and sought their fortune within the human empire of Ankris.  His parents secured a student position for him with a prestigious organization of mages, the Nukanti summoners.  While learning under this group, Kigurtha showed an exceptional talent for summoning magical beasts and spirits.  He carries few items.  Among his effects are a Staff of Summoning which augments is conjuration spells, a ring of coolness (which hampers the effects of the empire’s climate), and a cloak of protection +3.  Otherwise Kigurtha wears only the white robes of his magical order inscribed with a depiction of a winged tentacled beast.  The depiction of the beast is a reference to a creature summoned by the founder of the Nukanit which saved the empire from a reptilian invasion.


----------



## GrayIguana

*Mahophis*

I just noticed that the date on the boards is already Aug. 1st.  As it is only 9:45 on July 31st in WI, I hope my entries are still considered.  In high hopes. . . .

Orphaned as an infant, this reptilian was adopted by a priest of White Gazelle, the god of law. Mahophis was raised in the temple, and his talents led him to become a holy warrior of law.  The holy warriors of White Gazelle are often referred to as the White Judges since they have the power to enforce and dispense justice throughout the empire.  As an enforcer of the law, Mahophis is an intimidating figure.  Reptilians are rare within the empire, and as is typical of his race reptilians are taller and broader than average humans which makes Mahophis an intimidating figure.   He is typically adorned with breast plate armor adorned with the symbols of the White Gazelle.  He carries a kopesh sword, and a shield which is also decorated with symbols of his god.


----------



## GrayIguana

*Bora Torang*

Bora is a human Dead Hunter.  As a holy warrior of Bousma, the goddess of death and the underworld he is devoted to slaying the undead and all who offend his goddess, such as necromancers.  

The empire of Ankris is a very racially mixed culture for humans, but Bora’s heritage is from the desert born nomads.  He does not have the pale complexion of the northerners or the dark complexion of the southern tribes.  His hair is long and braided into a knot that rests upon the top of his head.  His leather armor is decorated with the emblems of Bousma’s ability to both give and take life, and he carries his kopesh sword and dagger with uncanny agility.  Before he knowingly enters battle he paints his goddess’s symbol of death upon his forehead along with a white skull on each cheek.  Few among Ankran society would interfere with him when he has donned this ceremonial decoration.


----------



## valeren

Miguel Enrico Gonzales a.k.a Cash
Male 5th level Wizard / 7th level Guild Wizard Human (Shade)

Even if Cash has been spotted in the different cities of the Forgotten realms he is not a native of Faerun.  Based on the different small stories that one can gather, he came from some other world, which is deprived of magic.  Cash has arrived at Faerun three years ago by means of the Shadow plane.  It is still not clear as to whether the process he used was meant to bring him and his companions to Faerun of if they found the planet by accident.  Whatever the case maybe, Cash and his companions have made the most of their new home.

History:  Trained as a servant to support all the needs of a noble family in his early youth, Cash has been schooled in many things most of which are needed to further the goals of intrigue of the said family (legally and illegally).  However early in his life, it was discovered that he has some knowledge in magic and was sent to learn magic (from a rival family no less).  This has only been the start of a difficult life for Cash as he became more embroiled in the schemes of the family not withstanding some occurrences that has allowed him to live to around 300 years and not physically aging past his 20s.

Life in Faerun:  Being a magic user of some sort in their home plane, Cash easily adapted to the ways of the Faerun.  His innate thirst for knowledge and adventure, coupled with the rich magic in planet has enables his to quickly rise in his capabilities.
His transition into Faerun as likewise triggered some change in his physiology.  He exhibits similar racial features and abilities of that Shades of Old Netheril.  This, together with his innate knowledge of shadow magic has brought him into conflict with the shades more that a handful of times.
He spends most of his time wandering the different cities of the Realm, normally at night, but is likewise taking time to check the different other locales of the world and “meeting up” with all types of people.

Physical Description:  Standing at six feet tall, Cash is slightly taller than the average wizard.  His athletic built has likewise added to the idea that he’s not one.  
His is a mix of Asian and Caucasian features.  It was his comely features, which first attracted him into the service of the noble family.  With longish black hair and green eyes, fair of skin, Cash has been a favorite member of the family’s staff.
When adventuring, which normally happens within the city, Cash normally wears a simple black shirt, blue pants of tough cloth with a pair of soft black leather shoes and gloves.  He normally accessorizes with silver jewelry (a single earring, a pin and a pair of rings), which are normally has some sort of protective or enhancing enchantment.  

In combat, Cash is adept in necromantic spells and shadow-based spells.  Normally summoning minions for the plane of shadow to his aid or manipulating the shadow plane in his magic.  It is not uncommon for him to wade into battle normally enhanced by magic and wielding iron wood weapons.


----------



## enworldatemylogin

NYLAN

Raised in the city of Hollowfaust, Nylan has the gift of sight, Nemorga style.  Sometimes he knows when people will die and out of curiousity may show up to observe, much as the herald of Nemorga is said to do.

Shy and reserved, he seems to be a relatively normal human, but his aspect changes at least to observers once he dons his gothic plate armor and black adamantium shield.  As a cleric of the god of death, he's used his enchanted longsword, Graybeard, more often than he'd like to send people to meet Nemorga.

He's blonde and relatively pale considering the harsh sun of the area.


----------



## enworldatemylogin

MOBY, half Ogre barbarian/druid

Chaotic Neutral


Moby's father was an ogre in a small tribe, who kidnapped Moby's human mother.  She died giving birth.
Moby was forced to grow up strong, as the full blooded ogre boys often tried to pound him just because.
Moby usually tried to keep to himself and often had to guard the camp while the others left on some raid 
or other task.  

Eventually his father determined Moby had reached adulthood, and so it was time to earn his keep.  This
particular event meant he was traded away to an orc tribe, for some skins, weapons and food.  The  old
orc chieftain had the idea of using Moby to mate with orcs and create super strong orcs, known as Orogs.
Moby had no reservations about his new tribe or job and happily did his best.

Unfortunately, not everybody in the orc tribe liked his presence or his new responsibility, particularly the 
eldest son of the chief.  

Eventually the chieftain died.  Well, he died in his sleep, with multiple stab wounds in his chest, but he
still died.  The tribes greatest warrior and the eldest son of the now dead chieftain claimed the tribe as
his own.  One of his first orders of business was to kick Moby out.  

Unfortunately Moby was not inclined and refused to leave.  The new chief hefted his weapon and challenged Moby to combat.  Unfortunately, while he might have been a lazy member of the orcs, he still retained all his ogre strength and crushed the orcs skull.  

Chaos insued as the orcs tried to figure out who would take leadership over next.  Cursing and stomping turned into blood shed.  Moby packed up his belongings and wondered off into the forest.

Time passed and he came upon an old hide covered wigwam with smoke billowing from the hole in the top at the edge of a swamp.  Upon opening the flap he found it was the residence of a dragon like thing, a lizard
man.  Or in this case lizard woman, an old blind shaman.

She didn't seem to mind the intruder into her tent and after talking Moby learned her name was Hgathaa.  Being old and blind she stayed behind when the tribe had moved on and a younger shaman had taken her place.  

Moby and Hgathaa eventually got to be friends or as close as one could get with 2 people who might eat each other and under her tutelage Moby learned the basics of druidism.  With more effort than he thought he could muster he learned how to read and cast spells.  

Not long after Hgathaa died in her sleep.  Seeing no reason not to waste a meal, Moby paid his final respects and ate her for dinner.  It was after this he started wondering around again until finding his way to his current batch of small and wary friends.

Moby sometimes dons a patchwork suit of hide armor and almost always weilds a huge stone stalagmite as a club.


----------



## bigsmp

Name: 
Arlis Duskrider, “the Blind-Fighter”
Human Male Ex-Monk/Barbarian/Fighter 2/2/4
Str: 18, Dex: 15(17), Con: 12, Int: 10, Wis: 15(17), Cha:9

Description: 
Arlis is a massive figure, standing over six feet tall as is sometimes seen for those of Damaran descent.  His entire frame is heavily muscled, and his foes are sometimes taken unaware when he proves how limber he is as well.  His ancestry shows itself through his ice-white skin, short-cropped blond hair, and blue eyes.  His eyes are rarely seen, however, as they are typically covered by a bandage that has been stained brown over time by head injuries that have bled into it unchecked.  Having lived a hard life, often on the wrong side of the axe, his body is scarred in many places from cuts gone untreated.  Though numerous, none of the scars differentiate Arlis from any other mercenary in the Realms.  He bears his chest to the world, exposing the scars for all to see.  People shake their heads in disbelief on cold Sword Coast evenings when Arlis arrives, not even shivering.  They mutter that he must have been borne to a Frost giant to be so inured to the cold.  His cleanly shaven face might have even been called attractive, if not for the bandage and his other tattered clothing.  Arlis doesn’t seem to let anything bother him, the least of which is his clothes.  He wears a pair of frayed breeches that allows him to move freely, much like the Broken Ones of his native, frigid land.  Often times, Arlis can be seen crouched on an outcropping of rock, staring off at something unseen, his eyebrow cocked as he attempts to identify the sound.  His lips are usually pressed together unless quietly giving advice to others or opened wide in a battlecry.

Background:
Born to unknown parents of Damaran origin, Arlis grew up at a monastery dedicated to Ilmater.  As one of the Adorned, he was able to travel with other Ilmatari to aid border villages ravaged by Vaasan orcs.  On one of these trips, the group arrived at the town too late.  Many lie dead and there were signs of abductions as well.  Infuriated with the devastation, Arlis volunteered to travel forth with the paladins and slaughter the orcs while most of the other Broken Ones remained behind to assist the remaining villagers.  Only nominally tried in combat before this, Arlis was now exposed to the thrill of combat.  He relished bringing vengeance upon the orcs, and taunted the god of the orcs,  Gruumsh One-Eye, with his every kill.  His blasphemous exclamations continued until he brought his fist down upon the shaman of the orc tribe.  For his fist crushing the orc shaman’s windpipe was the last thing he saw.

Arlis traveled with the group from town to town, blinded by his own pride.  None in the towns could help him.  He ended up leaving the group of priests and booking passage to the Sword Coast…he assumed that he would be able to find an answer in Waterdeep, the City of Spendors.  No one could cure his condition in Waterdeep, though he did find out why.  The orc he killed last was infused with Gruumsh’s power for the last moments of his life.  With that time, he blinded Arlis with a curse that none could break.

Angered, he fled into the wilds to the north.  There, he found a bit of comfort in a barbarian tribe that took him in and taught him that he could relieve his pent up anger by lashing out against orcs streaming down from the Spine of the World.  Though it required that he give up his life thus far, Arlis relished this time, lost in his rage.  

It was an encounter with an old comrade from Damara that brought Arlis to the balanced place he is today.  This monk told Arlis that if he strove for perfection, he could become one with his surroundings.  He would, in effect, gain a limited ability to see things around him.  The monk told him that these were the first of the teachings of a long lost Grand Master, named Sorgeth.  The rest had been lost to the world, though they must exist in some form, or there must be a way to re-invent them.  

Since that time, Arlis has worked on perfecting his art.  He uses a magical quarterstaff to great effect, interspersing its attacks with kicks and jabs.  His strength allows him to cleave through his foes and launch devastating attacks.  His keen sense of hearing that he has developed over the years allows him to even attack opponents at range, using a set of bolas he keeps at his belt.  The gloves he wears to protect his hands are actually magical Gloves of Dexterity +2, and his muscled forearms are guarded by Bracers of Armor +3.  He moves as quietly as the wind in his Boots of Elvenkind, but when he can’t avoid combat, his Ring of Protection +1, and his Amulet of Wisdom +2 keep him protected by allowing him to deflect or dodge blows.


----------



## Kaodi

*Missed The Deadline?*

She nearly stood the height of two grown men, as tall as the young trees in the northern forest, but even so, she was small for her kind, and thin too. Her clothes were made from the hides of wolves, elk and seals, stitched together with animal sinew. A cloak hung from her shoulders, made from the fur of a great arctic bear, protecting her from the wind. At her left side was a bulging satchel, and in her right hand she carried a long wooden staff.

   A pale blue hand reached up to her face to pull several loose strands of yellow hair behind her ear. She had an oval face unmarred by age, with a pointed chin and high cheek bones. She had a hawkish nose, and eyes that were pale grey and filled with a cruel light.

   " What have you done? " cried the Elder in a fit of despair. " What have you done, witch? " . He was of course referring to the smoking bodies of the raiders, which now littered the ruined tribal encampment. 

   She recalled with a tinge of delight how their hide clothing had begun to smolder, and then burst into flame. They had been engulfed, and died painfully by the element that was their bane. All as she saw fit. 

   Eyeing the Elder cooly, she answered, " I was protecting us. Have thanks that we are still alive. "

   " Better to have been killed! " snapped the Elder. " You have committed heresy, witch! The gods forbid the fire, and now you bring there wrath down upon us. " 

   " I do not care for their ways, old man. They would have us be fools forever, " said the woman.

   " You are cursed, witch! " thundered the Elder. " You are cursed, Sigrun! "

   Sigrun was about to laugh when suddenly she dropped her staff and clutched her face, screaming. Pain wracked her eyes, and it felt like they had been set ablaze. Sigrun fell to her knees, the pain was excruciating.

   " See what happens to those who disobey the gods? " said the Elder bitterly. " I pray that they take mercy on the rest of us. "

   Snarling, Sigrun struggled to her feet as the pain began to subside somewhat. " What have they done to me old man? Tell me! " she demanded.

   The Elder gestured toward one of the collapsed tents. " There should be a mirror somewhere in there, if you can find it. Go look for yourself. "

   Sigrun did her best to hold back the tears of anguish as she rummaged through what remained of the tent. At last, she caught sight through blurred vision of a broken shard of a mirror. Picking it up, her reflection gazed back at her.

   All around her eyes, it seemed that see had been scarred as if by fire, but strangely it had had no effect on her hands. Seemingly it appeared as if she wore a mask over her eyes, one of seared flesh, which was now much darker than the normal pale blue of her skin. However, these changes were less stunning than that of Sigrun's eyes themselves. Where they had been pale grey before, now they were a firery orange. So marked forever, Sigrun would always be recognized as the one they would later call " The Blasphemer ".


----------



## enworldatemylogin

MIGDOL

Hynerian (I didn't see anything saying we couldn't include science fiction characters as well as fantasy    )

As a noble and member of the Security Police loyal to Rygel the 16th, Migdol's graduation assignment was to spy on Rygel's brother on Hyneria Reborn. Having completed his assignment he made it off world heading back to the Hynerian Homeworld when he was intercepted by the PeaceKeepers. At first he was simply imprisoned and left to wonder what was going on when finally it became clear as he watched a holographic display as Rygel's cousin Bishan began his ascendancy speech.

Time passed and being young and not established as a known personage in the Royal court, it was thought that Migdol could be reformed having no real loyalty to Rygel. Finally "good behavior" made the new regime decide to repatriate Migdol from PeaceKeeper authority. He was made to swear oaths and sign forms indicating he would never take up arms against the rightful ruler of Hyneria. Of course he knew the text referred to Bishan the Usurper, but he simply played along. Then he was allowed to move freely and finally reunited with family and friends.

Of course the fall of Dominar Rygel XVI left the royal guard and others exiled, forced to run into hiding in an attempt to regroup and take back the throne from the usurper. For Awhile, Migdol did what was expected, but secretly he was helping form cells and other clandestine activities.

Migdol's commanding officer, Vicaran, sent him to a trading colony, The Wheel, near the far edge of the Uncharted Territories. One of Vicaran's contacts, a Sebacean trader by the name of Chool, had arms to sell. Migdol was to meet Chool, examine the arms and authorize the money transfer, (with the password Ouroboros).

The reason for obtaining weapons from such a remote place is that Chool claims to have "intelligent" weapons, that he calls Ares Shells. Chool has never let Vicaran down, so he is intrigued enough to send Migdol to meet him. Migdol managed to arrive at The Wheel, the typical hive of scum and villainy. After contacting Chool, Migdol woke up in the stasis pod with a bunch of yahoos.

Migdol almost always wears his enviro suit.  Since escaping from the statis pod and the prison ship, he's gotten a little paranoid about being flushed out into the vacuum of space.


----------



## Angcuru

It’s admittedly a bit long, but there’s a lot to say.  Lotsa time and effort ahoy!

*WARNING!  SPOILERS FOR THOSE READING MY STORY HOUR!*

*Angcuru Melaroira  *(Ahn-koo-roo May-lah-roy-rah)
Neutral Good
Moon Elf
44th Level Ranger  
193 years old as of 1551, Dalereckoning.

*Physical Description*:  Angcuru is quite tall at 6 foot 3 inches in height, lean and heavily muscled at 192 pounds, but not over-imposing.  He has light green eyes and shoulder-length auburn hair is tied into a single braid which rests on the back of his neck.   His skin is of a light golden tan, save for a light bit of tattooing on his face.

*Background*:  Angcuru is the bastard son of Bhaal, the dead God of Murder, and an elven woman who served in his clergy.  He was not born out of love, but only for the purpose of being sacrificed to facilitate the return of his father.  Raised by the sage Gorion in the citadel of Candlekeep, Angcuru was kept in the dark about his lineage, being told that his mother was an old friend of Gorion’s, whom had made Gorion promise before she died to take care of her son.  This illusion was kept up for the first sixty or so years of Angcuru’s life, even as he aged twice as fast as a moon elf normally would.  However, not being in the company of other elves by whom he could judge himself, and not being told of his abnormality by anyone in Candlekeep, he considered himself quite normal.  Then one day Gorion suddenly told him that they were leaving, that Angcuru was in great danger.  That night, Gorion was killed in an ambush, and Angcuru was force to flee for his life.  His friend Imoen, who had been very close to Gorion and Angcuru, had left Candlekeep shortly after they had, met him at the site of the ambush, and together they buried Gorion.

Not being allowed back into Candlekeep, they turn to adventuring as a means of survival.  Along the way they run into two old friends of Gorion’s; a married couple, Jaheira and Khalid, who joined them after hearing what happened.  They were also later joined by Minsc, the hamster-loving warrior; Dynahier, a skilled mage and friend of Minsc; and Viconia, an exiled drow who struggled to stay alive on the surface.  After a struggle with the evil Sarevok, an ambitious human with natural skill with a sword, who was discovered to be the murderer of Gorion and half-brother to Angcuru, as almost simultaneously Angcuru discovered his own divine heritage as well as Sarevok’s.  

Shunned from Baldur’s Gate (the general location of the Sarevok Conflict) for his blood ties with Sarevok, Angcuru headed north with his friends and was soon ambushed and kidnapped.  Later, they awoke to find themselves imprisoned somewhere underground, and escaped when their captor, an evil mage who had been torturing Angcuru with various spells, was assaulted by a large number of thieves.  Only Angcuru, Khalid, and Minsc has escaped from the prison, as Khalid was found dead, Dynahier had been killed in their capture, Viconia was nowhere to be found, and Imoen had been abducted by mages along with their captor, Jon Irenicus, who allowed himself to be taken, for some unknown reason.  It was soon discovered that Imoen had been taken by the Cowled Wizards, an organization of mages who enforced a strict no-magic policy in Amkethran, the Capital City of Amn where their captor had been based.

While searching Amkethran for information on how to free Imoen from the Cowled Wizards, Angcuru was approached by a man named Galean Bayle, who offered them a proposition.  He told them that the Shadow Thieves, the local thieves’ guild, was willing to help them track down Imoen and provide transportation to wherever she may be, but for a price.  While the price was a very large sum of gold, Angcuru was willing to do whatever it took to get his friend back.  

During a long bout of adventuring to earn enough money to pay off the Shadow Thieves, Angcuru, Minsc, and Jaheira were joined by Keldorn, a human paladin of Torm who wished to help them right the wrong that had been done.  Also, following an interesting battle inside an evilly enchanted circus, they were joined by Aerie, a timid Avariel woman skilled in arcane and divine magic whom had been sold to the circus by slavers, but set free once her wings rotted while in her cage and were cut off.  Soon after meeting Aerie, they found Viconia about to be burnt at the stake by an angry mob, but Angcuru would not stand for this, and cut her free despite the crowd’s angry protests.  A fight ensued, and Angcuru’s party was the victorious one.  Angcuru had hoped that Viconia had forgone her somewhat sinister ways, but her relentless taunting of Aerie over her lost wings proved him wrong, and he sent her away.  As the group traveled, Aerie began to confide in Angcuru about her past, since being outside of the circus and seeing the sky for the first time in a long while had brought back many painful memories, and many regrets.  He consoled her as best he could, and they grew to be close friends.

About a month after they rescued Aerie, they received word from Aerie’s Uncle Quayle, a goodly gnome who had helped her during her ordeal at the circus, telling them that a friend of his needed their help.  It turned out that his old friend was leader of a theatrical troupe, and that one of their number had gone missing.  After a short ordeal involving much traveling of the planes, they found a freed Haer’Dalis, a tiefling bard who had an odd, free-spirited demeanor.  Rather than rejoining his group, he took up with Angcuru, having taken a fancy to Aerie.  As time went on and they tried to procure the gold needed to pay the Shadow Thieves, Angcuru and Aerie grew closer to each other, while Haer’Dalis tried again and again to woo her with his poetry and music.  Eventually, Aerie turned him down as softly as she could, telling him that she was in love with Angcuru.  Haer’Dalis was heartbroken of course, but stayed with them nonetheless, while the love between Aerie and Angcuru grew.

The time came when they had gained a sum enough to pay of the Shadow Thieves, and when they did so, they found that the Thieves had been hard at work since Angcuru had agreed to their terms, and that Angcuru’s group had only to complete a few key tasks before they could find Imoen for sure.  They had to oust a new rival thieves’ guild, all of whom were vampires, the guild being based in the graveyard district of Amkethran.  During a long and intense battle wherein the vampires were all but wiped out and Angcuru and company were greatly worn down, they provoked the wrath of the Guild Head, a particularly heartless vampire named Bodhi who seemed to know Irenicus, but escaped before Angcuru could extract more information.

The Shadow Thieves soon revealed that Imoen was being held in the Asylum of Spellhold on the Isle of Brynnlaw, and they were soon on their way there by boat.  On the trip over, Aerie insisted that she share a cabin with Angcuru, saying that she was feeling particularly uneasy and tense after a recent bout of nightmares, and being near Angcuru relaxed her and calmed her down.  However, Aerie told him that she didn’t want the other being suspicious, that she wished to lay with him for the night.  Tempted as he was, Angcuru told her that as much as he wanted to, it would be best to wait until the whole ordeal they were was over.  To his surprise, she told him that she was thinking the same thing, and asked because she wanted to be as close to him as she possible could.  From then on the two of them were together whenever possible, and always spent their nights together, even if they didn’t make love.

On arrival at Brynnlaw, they were set upon by and promptly defeated a group of vampires who had apparently been tipped off by Saemon Havarian, the captain of the ship they had traveled on.  Not having time to take vengeance upon him, they made their way to the Asylum of Spellhold, which seemed eerily deserted as they entered.  They wandered around freely, with no Cowled Wizards in sight, and eventually found Imoen lying on the floor of a cell, shaking and muttering to herself.  As Angcuru tried to return her to her sense, they were confronted by Irenicus, who had apparently taken control of Spellhold as a replacement for his ruined sanctum in Amkethran.  Before they could attack, they all fell asleep, drugged by Saemon.  

When he awoke, Angcuru found himself standing inside of a glass tube , with Aerie and his friends nowhere in sight.  Irenicus told him that they were unharmed, that his only interest was with Angcuru, and that he was about to do to Angcuru the same thing that he had done to Imoen.  After an agonizing ritual that he hardly remembered, Angcuru dreamt about battling a human form of his father, as was losing badly as he awoke.  He saw Irenicus standing next to Bodhi, and demanded to know what he had done.  Irenicus revealed that he and Bodhi were brother and sister, drained of their souls long ago, and that to regain their souls, they had to steal those of two mortals.  He had chosen Imoen and Angcuru because their souls were not completely mortal, that their Bhaal Essence would keep them alive long enough for Irenicus and Bodhi to steal their souls.  Irenicus had taken Angcuru’s, and Bodhi had taken Imoen’s.  The two of them released Angcuru, saying that he no longer had a mortal soul, only his god’s blood was keeping him alive, and then promptly threw him in a cell along with the others.  Angcuru felt hollow inside, and began to hear fell demonic voiced in the corner of his mind as he told them what had happened.  Shocked as he was that Imoen was actually his sister, he was even more shocked when Bodhi brought them all to the entrance to an odd maze, telling them that this was a way out, and that they had best hurry, since she would be soon hunting after them.

The group made its way through a dark and trap-filled, yet strangely well-furnished labyrinth, and were almost at the exit when the opened a door to find Bodhi waiting for them.  She said something about them being too slow, and immediately attacked.  Considering that Angcuru and his friends had all been greatly weakened by the labyrinth, and would surely have all died if something miraculous, yet terrible had not happened.  As Bodhi rushed at them, Angcuru felt something inside of him take control and force him to attack the vampires with his bare hands.  At this point, his god’s blood boiled in his veins and transformed him into a horrible creature that could only be described as murder incarnate.  The transformed Angcuru went into a frenzied rage, tearing apart the vampires as Bodhi fled in terror.  The creature turned on his friends who were standing in shock nearby, and would have torn them to shreds, if Aerie had not begun crying and dropped to her knees.  Its huge claws stopped inches from her face, and slowly turned back into Angcuru, who slumped forward against Aerie, unconscious.  When he recovered, it was discovered that he had turned into a creature known only as ‘The Slayer’, one of the forms Bhaal took as his avatar during the Time of Troubles.  While this disturbed Aerie, it became all too clear to her that this was the first step towards Angcuru being completely lost to her, and she urged the rest of the group to act with all speed to recover Angcuru’s soul, as well as Imoen’s.  The group left the Brynnlaw on Saemon Havarian’s ship, making fully clear to him that if there was any treachery, he would not see another day.

Unfortunately, the ship was soon attacked by Sahaugin and sunk, and yet Angcuru and his friends did not drown.  They found themselves in front of a Sahaugin king in a vast underwater city, and were somehow able to breathe water.  They were forced to perform a series of tasks for this king, but in the end he turned on them and was killed as well.  From this city they were able to find an entrance to the underdark, which was where Saemon had told them(during an intense interrogation) that Irenicus was headed.  Shortly after entering the underdark they ran into a group of svirfneblin who offered to tell them that Irenicus and Bodhi had passed by earlier into a nearby drow city.  After Angcuru and company performed several services for them, they were steered in the direction of a Silver Dragon living in the underdark, who was charged with keeping the drow below the surface.  However, the drow had stolen her eggs and threatened to kill them if she made a move against them, which left her pinned down.  

The dragon, whose name was Adalon, offered them a way out of the underdark if they would retrieve her eggs.  They agreed, and Adalon used her powerful magic to temporarily transform them all into drow, so they would not be killed on sight.  They then entered the city and were immediately taken into service by House Despana, and were forced to do several horrible tasks which we were thankfully able to avoid.  One Despana woman named Phaere had taken a particular interest in me after I had saved her from some illithids, and eventually demanded that Angcuru sleep with her.  Thinking of Aerie, Angcuru did all he could to avoid this, and was able to do so by claiming to be a eunuch, which angered Phaere, but got him out of that situation nonetheless, much to Aerie’s relief.  Eventually it was discovered that Phaere’s mother, Matron Aldruace, was in possession of Adalon’s eggs, and planned to use them for a demon summoning ritual, which he was invited to for the serviced I had rendered for House Despana.  Angcuru somehow managed to avert the ritual by substituting false eggs, and the demon slaughtered Phaere and Aldruace for their ‘insolence’.  Taking the real eggs, he returned them to Adalon and the group was returned to their natural forms.  They soon exited the underdark to find themselves surrounded by elves and drow engaged in battle.  Angcuru and company immediately proceeded to aid the elves in battle.  

The drow were soon routed, and the elves turned on Angcuru’s group and demanded to know what they were doing there.  After several hours of interrogation, their situation was made clear to the elves, who were rightly suspicious of them.  Apparently, Irenicus had used the drow to pull the elves away from their tree city of Suldanesselar, so that he could enter the city and cause untold mayhem and destruction.  The elves know more of Irenicus then they let on, though they would not tell Angcuru.  He demanded to be let into the city but was told that the city could not be accessed without the use of the Rhynn Lanthorn, a lantern that was an ancient elven artifact, which let the way to the city and revealed the way in.  Angcuru was told the Lanthorn was in the possession of Bodhi, and immediately set out for Amkethran, as that was where she had to be.  On the way there, he ran into Drizz’t Do’Urden, whom he had helped fight off a pack of gnolls some time ago just north of Amn.  Angcuru explained their situation, and Drizz’t gladly agreed to help, and told them that he would meet them near Bodhi’s guildhall in several days.

Upon arrival at the city, they were dead tired after many long days of travel by foot, and took their rest in the first inn they came across.  As Angcuru climbed into bed with Aerie, there was a flash of smoke and Bodhi appeared at the foot of their bed, and warned them not to come after the Lanthorn, or she would take even more from him.  Before he could demand to know what she meant, Bodhi leapt forward and grabbed Aerie, and the both of them disappeared in a plume of smoke.  In a state of shock, Angcuru slumped to the floor and let out an agonizing scream which immediately drew his companions into his room.  He quickly told them what had happened, and strapped on his armor and picked up his bow, telling them to be ready to fight as soon as possible, that they would attack Bodhi’s lair as soon as possible.  On their arrival at her lair, Angcuru found Drizz’t waiting for him, and together with him they fought their way through Bodhi’s newly turned vampire servants, and fought their way into a room where Bodhi lay in wait with her strongest vampires, with a cloaked figure standing by her side.  She laughed as she saw Angcuru, and ripped the cloak off the figure next to her, revealing Aerie, looking extremely pale and comatose.  Bodhi commanded her vampires to attack, and Aerie launched herself straight at Angcuru.  She looked completely different now, with an evil fire in her eyes, claws on her fingers, and fangs in her mouth.  Bodhi had turned her into a vampire, and she was now no longer herself, trying to kill Angcuru.  The battle was turning against them, and they were losing slowly but surely.  Angcuru tried to fend Aerie off with the flat of his sword, screaming her name and trying to somehow bring her back to her old self, but to no avail.  

During the fray, Drizz’t in passing stabbed the now vampiric Aerie through the heart with his blades, and she slumped to the floor, the evil look fading from her eyes.  As Angcuru cradled her in the midst of the fray, his friends forming a protective circle around him,   Angcuru could have sworn that through his tears, he saw her look up at him and heard her softly utter his name before she went limp and died.  To Angcuru, the world was now silent, the only thing he heard was Aerie’s voice echoing through his mind.  He felt the familiar burning sensation in his blood, and knew he was again into The Slayer, and this time, he didn’t care.  He didn’t care about anything.  Aerie was dead, and all of his hopes for the future had died with her.  In less than a second, he transformed from an elf into that horrible screaming creature, which was twice his normal size with huge claws, rows upon rows of wicked teeth, and was nearly unstoppable.  His transformation sent his friends flying, and whipping their heads around and seeing what had happened, they rushed to get out of the room as fast as they possibly could.  The beast set its sights first on Bodhi, rushing towards her like lightning, grabbing her by the arms and tearing her limb from limb, flesh and bone flying all over the room as it literally shredded her.  The remaining vampires leapt all over it, and were soon slaughtered with gnashing teeth, eviscerating claws, and stomping clawed feet.  

Then it was only Drizz’t and the creature in the room, as Keldorn had wisely barricaded himself into the closest room, reinforcing the door with whatever was at hand.  Drizz’t slowly backed up against a wall, looking on in terror as the creature looked at him menacingly, looked down at Aerie, and then back at Drizz’t with pure murder in its eyes.  He banged on the barricaded door to be let in, and friend and ally though he may be, Jaheira,  Keldorn, Minsc, and Haer’Dalis knew that opening that door was suicide, even though the creature could easily tear it down with no effort.  As he banged on the door, the creature thrust out a claw, pinning Drizzt’s head to the door but leaving him unharmed.  The claw then clamped shut on his head, the claws digging into his skull as it lifted him from the floor and tore him in half with its jaws.  As the drow’s lifeless, mangled body fell to the floor, the room went silent.  As Angcuru’s friends opened to door, they saw Angcuru completely nude, sobbing silently and clutching Aerie’s body to him, his clothes and armor lying torn and ruined on the floor, destroyed during his transformation.  Suddenly Angcuru threw back his head and let out an unearthly scream of pure anguish that hung on the air for several seconds afterwards, and then fell silent.

Following Aerie’s death, Angcuru did not speak a single word to anyone.  He knew that when a vampire died, its soul went straight to the hells, no matter what it was in life.  He could not imagine Aerie suffering in hell for no more crime than loving him, and he did everything in his power to find a way to save her.  Imoen’s soul had been returned when Bodhi was destroyed, but now Aerie was lost.  Jaheira kept reminding Angcuru that they now possessed the Lanthorn and could find Irenicus and restore his soul, but he words were lost on him.  He no longer went into the nightly trance, but spent every waking moment researching vampires and vampirism to find a cure.  He tried reading a tome he had found in Bodhi’s private chambers, but could not understand the writing.  Then, one day while looking for information in the Temple of Oghma, God of Knowledge, a priest recognized the next in Bodhi’s book, and was able to provide a copy of the book in the common tongue for Angcuru.  The book contained knowledge on how to afflict someone with vampirism, but also how to cure them of it.  Overjoyed beyond all measure, Angcuru also found details for a method that would not only restore a dead vampire to life, but cure them of vampirism as well.

Following the procedure in the book, Angcuru returned to Bodhi’s chamber and ripped out her black heart from what remained of her body, and without a word to anyone, he took Aerie’s body in his arms and traveled alone to the east, to an old temple to Anaumator, the dead God of the Sun, a temple which he had cleared of undead a little while back.  Finding the golden statue of Anaumator standing with outstretched arms, he laid Aerie’s body across in its arms, Bodhi’s heart in one of its hands, and waited.  When dawn came, the sun’s light shone on the statue, and Bodhi’s heart burst into white flames and quickly burned away.  Slowly but surely, Angcuru saw the color return to Aerie’s skin, and soon saw her chest begin to rise and fall steadily.  He could not believe his eyes,  it had worked, Aerie had returned to life.  Overjoyed, he took Aerie in his arms and watched her sleeping soundly, a small smile on her face after he had kissed her on the lips.  She did not wake up for a long while, but Angcuru was all too willing to wait, as long as he had Aerie back.  He swore that he would not lose her again.  She was his love, his life.

After a week of carrying Aerie across Amn to Amkethran, meeting any stared from the townsfolk with threatening stared of his own, he brought Aerie’s body back to the Inn where the rest of his friends were still waiting for his return.  All were very glad to see that Aerie had been restored to her old self, but insisted that they begin traveling back to where they had emerged from the underdark.  And so they began the trek back, Angcuru carrying Aerie in his arms, expecting her to awaken at any moment, he wanted to be the first thing she saw when she awoke.  Just before they entered the elven encampment, Aerie’s eyes had fluttered open, and she looked up at Angcuru, who was now in trance, ever holding her close to him.  She realized what had happened, how for Angcuru had gone to get her back.  Aerie reached up and put her arms around Angcuru’s neck, bringing her lips to his in the same motion.  Angcuru awoke instantly, kissing her back, sobbing with joy.

Later that day, they arrived at the elven encampment and used the Rhynn Lanthorn to reveal the way to Suldanesselar, and were soon inside of the city.  Angcuru saw no less than he expected.  The city was in chaos, the populous having retreated, leaving a skeleton crew of defenders.  Angcuru’s group moved quickly throughout the city, killing each and every one of Irenicus’ servants they encountered.  They saved many lives, which was ironic in that they were trying to find one man whose life they sought to destroy.  Eventually completing a ritual to the elven god Rillifane, they saw the city cleansed and the path to Irenicus opened.  They found him suspended in a sphere of energy, drawing power from the great tree from which the elves drew their longevity and power.  The Queen of Suldanesselar, Ellesime, who was caged nearby, told them that they had to stop him as soon as possible or all was lost.  They attacked and killed him, but as he died, they felt themselves die as well, and were sucked into hell along with him.  There they had a final battle, wherein Irenicus was barely defeated, and Angcuru’s soul was returned.  All was back as it should be, but there was another challenge to come.

Some months later, after Angcuru and Aerie had been betrothed and lain with one another for the first time, other Bhaalspawn began appearing all over Faerun.  A new fight ensued, wherein Angcuru learned more and more about his past, killed brother and sister alike, and had to resurrect and join forces with Sarevok, in hopes to redeem his soul and take advantage of his battle prowess.  Eventually, Angcuru prevailed over his siblings after a long series of battles, and near wars.  He was the last Bhaalspawn, after Imoen had given him her Bhaal essence.  Angcuru was faced with a choice:  Become a god, or stay mortal.  Angcuru was not tempted in the slightest by the promise of godhood.  All he wanted was to be with Aerie.  He instead used the last of Bhaal’s power to restore Aerie’s wings, and to grant himself a pair, so that they could live on as a true family of Avariel with their child, whom had been conceived during the conflict.

He has spent most of the wealth brought to him through years of adventuring as bribes to governments and other powerful organizations throughout Faerun in return that they spread rumors of his death, so that any of his enemies who survived the carnage would not come looking for him and disturb his newfound peace and happiness.

Angcuru is the main protagonist in my on-going story hour, which when finished will thoroughly detail his struggles from his arrival in Amn to a final, fate-determining choice concerning his divinity. 

*Combat Style*:  When in battle, Angcuru prefers to hang behind the melee combatants, using his longbow to wear down and kill the enemy before they have a chance to reach him.  If a foe manages to get within striking distance, Angcuru switches either to a spear or a long sword, depending on the situation.  As he always fights alongside Aerie, who is a very powerful spell caster, the fight is often over before they are in any real danger, unless they are up against a very tough opponent.

*Family*:  His wife Aerie Melaroira, whom he loves with a deep, deep passion, so much so that if she were to die, he would immediately take his own life to be with her, if it weren’t for his children.  It was Aerie’s love that kept him going throughout his struggles, and likewise for Aerie as well.  Without their love for each other, Aerie would have surely remained a scared little girl and Angcuru would have given in to his dark nature and become an engine of death instead of a great hero.  When they had married, Angcuru had taken on the same facial tattoos as Aerie possessed, to be that much closer to her.

His son Eleelaike Sudraug (Eh-lee-like-ay Soo-drowg) is of the brash, independent wandering sort and left home for a career in adventuring as soon as his parents would give in.  

Eleelaike’s twin sister Vanimlote Melaroira, however, is far shyer than her brother, and devotes a significant portion of her time in the service of Aerdrie Faenya.  She is very close to Angcuru, being what some would call “daddy’s little girl”.

Aerie’s mother, Feayaana Thoronoldo (Fee-ya-na), and father Seimenel Thoronoldo (Si-menel), live nearby Angcuru and Aerie in Faenya-Dail, and visit frequently.  Angcuru is especially close to Feayaana, as she is the closest thing to a mother he has ever known.  Initially suspicious of Angcuru, Seimenel has grown to treat him as the son he never had.    

Angcuru’s human siblings Imoen and Sarevok had passed on long ago from old age, but Angcuru remembers them fondly.

*Personality*:  Angcuru is generally an elf of few words who will continue a conversation to great lengths once started, but usually has very little to say, himself. He is rarely seen to smile, but is always ready to laugh at a good joke or jest.  However, when in the presence of his wife, Aerie, he becomes extraordinarily happy, irrepressible, even.  Considering that he is very rarely away from her side, most people know him as being cheerful, a pleasure to be around.

Angcuru is always ready to give aid to any who may have need of it, feeling a drive to prevent as much pain and suffering as he possibly can.  He is loath to deal out death and injury, and does so only when absolutely necessary.  Angcuru does not let his powerful abilities go to his head, as many other would.  Instead, he lives as normally as possible with his family, cherishing each and every moment he spends with Aerie.  He spends a good portion of his time visiting Feayaana and Seimenel, spending quality time with Vanimlote, and keeping a proud eye on his adventurous son through various means of scrying.  Most of his time is spent with Aerie sitting and reading together, visiting old friends on the surface, making love, and occasionally sparring so that their abilities do not decay, just in case they are needed again.  Most commonly however, Angcuru can be found in his home lying on a sofa with Aerie, holding her close to him and looking into her eyes, as she does his.

AGH! Finally done.  This was very tiring, yet strangely gratifying to write up.  

NOTE TO KAI LORD:  This was 11:59 Thursday EST when I posted this.  Just so you know. 

EDIT:  Bolding was messed up. *sheepish face*


----------



## Kai Lord

Angcuru said:
			
		

> *NOTE TO KAI LORD:  This was 11:59 Thursday EST when I posted this.  Just so you know. *




Sorry, you just missed it...Ha!  No you're good I'm on the west coast which means there are 2 hours and 50 minutes before the deadline closes.  Getting close....


----------



## Angcuru

Kai Lord said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Sorry, you just missed it...Ha!  No you're good I'm on the west coast which means there are 2 hours and 50 minutes before the deadline closes.  Getting close....   *




DON'T DO THAT!!  I thought my heart was going to explode.  I worked for almost eight hours on that thing. 

Can't wait to see the final 20, then the final ten.....


----------



## Feathercircle

Crud...  I'm too late.  And Lockwood draws illithids so well, too....  I guess my freakish wild mage character will have to wait until the next Great Lockwood Contest...   or at least until I go to the Art forum and ask someone for help.  I'd do it myself, but I'm horrid at tentacles, for some reason.

Bleh, it's late, I'm tired, and my post is cruddy.  I"m going to bed.


----------



## Stormrunner

*Here's my namesake...*

Might as well enter my namesake...

Stormrunner (aka Stormy/She Who Loves To Gallop Through The Wind And Rain)

female centaur Druid 3/Ranger 5/Foehunter 2/Queen of the Plains 2

height: 5'10" at withers, 10'2" forehooves to top of head
weight: about 1600 lbs
(Stormrunner is of the Hardsruthor, or "Northern Centaurs", a larger and heavier sub-race.  While standard centaurs have the lower body of a light warhorse, Hardsruthor have the horsebody of a heavy warhorse, with the humanoid torso larger and more muscular to match.  They also have shaggy tufts of fur on their lower legs (like a Clydesdale) and forearms.  Their hair grows in a Mohawk-style strip over the top of the skull and down the spine of the upper torso all the way to the withers, like a horse's mane, and they have horse ears rather than human ones, though their faces are otherwise humanoid.)

Stormy's hide is a dark chocolate brown, and this coloration extends to her upper body as well.  Her mane, tail, shagtufts, eyebrows, lips, nipples, fingernails, and hooves are all a pale cream color.  She tends to favor green, gold, and white in her jewelry and bodypaint.  She wears her mane long and flowing, with many thin rat-tail braids scattered through it, each ending in a tiny carved fetish (see below).  Her tail is trimmed a little shorter, so it doesn't drag or get too many burrs in it, but is also mostly loose, with the exception of two braids tipped with three large blue-painted wooden beads apiece - these indicate her clan.  Her eyes are hazel-green.  While not flat-chested, she does lead an active lifestyle and her breasts are not the "cantalope-globes" depicted by some artists - the Players Handbook illo for Ember the monk is probably a good reference.

Stormy's people are gymnophiles - that is, while not strictly nudist, they prefer to wear as little as possible.  Thus Stormrunner is normally clad only in harness and jewelry, plus any items listed below, with a little bodypaint for extra decoration.  Much of her gear is decorated with intricate spiral patterns reminiscent of Celtic knotwork.

Visible gear:
Fetishes - similar to Quall's Feather Tokens, but in much more variety, ranging from tiny figurines to miniature masks to abstract symbolic shapes.  Stormy creates and uses these in place of potions, and keeps several dozen dangling from her mane and portions of her harness.
Spear - may have a string of gnoll tails/ears dangling from it.
Two scimitars - a matched pair of enchanted blades.
Many pouches and a pair of small saddlebags (but no saddle).
Leggings - fringed and tooled leather, laced in back.  On all four legs, from just above the hoof to below the "knee" joint.
Hipposandals - like the Romans used, basically lace-on horseshoes.
Bracers of armor - interlaced straps of studded leather entwining both arms from wrists to shoulders.
(there's more, but I'm short on time)

suggested poses:
-fighting two gnolls
-looking innocent as she casually plants a dinner-plate-size hoof on the toe of an obnoxious bureaucrat-type human, causing him to shriek and flail and drop his paperwork


----------



## Mercule

Khorad ip Ehsan ip Farjad is a human of Baklunish (Oerth Arab, essentially) decent.  His father is a wealthy merchant headquartered in Greyhawk, but as a third son he stands to inherit little.

Because of this, he has spent most of his time honing his physical ability.  He is in peak health and at age 19 is a tremendous athlete, able to outrun, outjump, out manuever, and out swim almost anyone.

Khorad definitely stands out in a crowd.  Standing 6' 4" and well muscled, many people immediately assume he is a warrior or heavy of some sort.  His posture and smooth, handsome face mark him as well-born, though.  Although it's easy to tell that he is uncomfortable with deceit, his emerald green eyes seem to be alert for guile in others.

In honing his physical ability, Khorad has not neglected his mind, however.  The Baklunish people value knowledge greatly and are reknowned wizards.  Khorad has only dabbled in wizardry, learning a few simple spells which he rarely uses.  The only telltale sign of Khorad's study is the close bond he has with his cat, Rayya.  The small, grey and black tabby is little bigger than a kitten, although full grown, and measured against Khorad's height she is tiny.  Never-the-less, she rarely leaves his side, even as he vaults over foes to throw them off guard in combat.

When in Greyhawk, Khorad often wears fine clothes of single colors, most often a green, orange, or indigo tunic with brown or black trousers.  On the road, he dons more practical gear.  His once black leather armor is beginnig to take to the dark blue dye he has been using to get it to match the boots made from the dragon his party slew.  A wickedly curved short sword, that looks more like an oversized dagger against his frame, is set on his right thigh to quickly drawn and used underhanded by his right hand.  From his left hip hangs a sap and a brace of throwing daggers rest in sheaths on his leather bracers.  Any other possessions he carries are strapped into one of the two small, leather pouches on his belt.


----------



## Kai Lord

The Contest is closed!  No further entries will be considered!  Good luck to all who entered!


----------



## Kai Lord

I'll be sending my favorite 20ish entries to Todd this weekend, and will post the 10 he chooses on August 15th in the form of a poll.  Top 3 with the most votes will be sent back to Todd and he'll choose the winner.  Stay tuned, in two weeks you just might see your character in the Final 10....


----------



## Paragon249

**CoughPlugCough**

Kai, as a fellow Legolas fan, I'll be highly disappointed if you don't include me in your top 20. I would hate to have to write a letter to Orlando about your failure and have you filled with more arrows than our friend the cave troll. I mention this out of duty to him and no personal gain for myself(Except for a picture to show off to my friends) 

P.S. Gimley says to tell you that kneecaps are vulnerable spots on humans..I don't know why he'd mention something like that..


----------



## Goddess FallenAngel

*2 MORE WEEKS!!!???*

Ummm... Kai Lord?... you *are* going to post the people who made the top 20, right? Right? I don't know if I can wait 2 weeks to find out about my character... I want to get right on with being disappointed.


----------



## Kae'Yoss

I just wanted to post the same question, but GFA beat me to it.


----------



## Kai Lord

*Re: 2 MORE WEEKS!!!???*



			
				Goddess FallenAngel said:
			
		

> *Ummm... Kai Lord?... you *are* going to post the people who made the top 20, right? Right?*



I wasn't going to, since I'd rather have Todd take the heat for unchosen entries than myself  , but after giving it some thought here's what I'll do:

I already decided to bump the number of "quarterfinalists" from 20 to 25, it'll take me some time to gauge how the new entries measure up with the 20 I've already chosen but when I get that squared away I'll post *24* of the Top 25 I'm sending to Todd.

That way if you don't see your character on the list you can just assume it was the one I didn't post, because...well, it _was._  

I'll have the list of 24 up within a couple days, and post it in a new thread.


----------



## Angcuru

You are SO devious.....


----------



## Steverooo

*Thanks, for the mem'ries...*

Thanks, again, for the contest, Lord of the Kai!  Be interesting to see WHAT wins!


----------



## Kai Lord

*Re: Thanks, for the mem'ries...*



			
				Steverooo said:
			
		

> *Thanks, again, for the contest, Lord of the Kai!  Be interesting to see WHAT wins!   *



No problem.  The winners of Round 1 have been posted here:

http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=59123


----------



## Eridanis

Kai Lord -

I'll close this thread to keep things cleaner for you. Good luck to the 26 who are being forwarded on!


----------

