History Include date and place of birth, family (careers, alive/dead, location, contributions to the character), homeland (not necessarily place of birth), early history/childhood (school, apprenticeship, labourer, clergy, etc.), history/teen years, current occupation (class and otherwise), friends, and associates, hobbies or activities of interest.
Physical Description Write a paragraph on the phisical appearance of your characters current physical body. Include his physique (height & weight without using specific measurments), type of dress (adventuring and non-adventuring), armour worn (and ornamentation, if applicable), weaponry carried, favoured colours and/or designs, phisical mannerisms, type of speech, habits or tendencies, etc. Remember to take ability scores into account when writing your PC's description.
Mental Description Write a paragraph on the mental characteristics of your PC. Include his attitudes, morals, beliefs, philosophies, religion, fears, aspirations, short and long term goals, and types of friends and/or enemeis. Include a description of how your PC's intelligence, wisdom, charisma relate to one another, as each is influenced by the others. Make sure that you PC's mentality does not conflict with his alignment!
Last Edit: Mar 24, 2011 14:51:08 GMT -5 by Demogorgon
Place of Birth: Great Woodland Place of Adoption: Near Thera Adopted Family: Auric Noble Family within the League.
Born months before the cataclysm to a HulderFolk clan within the Great Woodland, Vaeren's birth was an auspicious birth. While the brunt of the falling mountain's impact was far away from his clan, the small pieces wreaked havoc. They seemed almost guided to the newborn child, sinking into his skin and marring his body. Using what little healing magics and herbal remedies the clan had, they stabilized him. Deferring to the wisdom of their leaders, they decided to leave the child with the humans nearby.
They gave him to a noble family within the Aurim Empire. They blessed the family with gifts and fortune and the family rose to power within the Empire. While these blessings still came, the family treated Vaeren as their own. Vaeren was happy and lived a good life, but for a Hulderfolk, this life was short lived. Before his own personal cataclysm, he lived as a dilettante, wasting his days away with wine, luxury, and ignorant bliss.
He did not know, but his parents had revealed his secret name to the Aurim noble family out of fear. They had feared their child would bring about destruction, and they did not want to unleash it upon this family they had burdened. His parents could not have predicted that once the family was absorbed into the league, his secret name would become his leash. Vaeren, fearing that they would reveal his secret name, yielded and became a slave to the 7th generation of the family.
After a hundred years passed in slavery, he fulfilled his parent's greatest fear and laid waste to his adopted family. His human bonds broken, he has begun to seek out a new life. He seeks to understand the power he wields over the sky itself, and he believes that the knowledge of his secret name vanished when he pulled the dagger through the throat of the last of his house.
He has no friends now, no place to call home, and he is hunted by the Imperial League for the murder of a noble family.
Vaeren is similar to an average human in every regard physically. He does not stand straight or look head, but slouches and looks down on the ground before him. He conceals himself in a cloak of poor quality and props himself up on a staff. Beneath the cloak you can make out some ragged chain mail that bears the symbol of the League which appears to have been removed forcefully with no luck. His body is deeply scarred. His face is distorted from the ancient scarring. You also notice that his ears are torn. Behind the scars, his pale blue eyes betray his status as a slave. His eyes resemble that of royalty, and if you look closely you can make out some elven traits.
Vaeren is crude, but quickly finds friends with the downtrodden. He enjoys a good drink and a good song. His time as a slave has enabled him to blend in with the common folk, but has left him lacking in the courtesies of the upper echelons of society. Just as his eyes betray him, his voice has a strange wizened reverberation to it. It is hard not to heed the words he speaks when he speaks enthusiastically.
Vaeren is clay yet to be molded. His time as a slave, betrayed by the only family he has known has left his heart dark. He is distrustful of anyone that has power to hurt him, but is very trusting of those without power or influence. He is naturally disposed to help those in need and seeks to right any injustice he sees. He is especially aggressive towards slavers or slave owners and is disgusted by slavery. He constantly reminds himself that he owes it to the slaves he left behind to free them once he fully understands the power he wields.
The law doesn't hold much sway over Vaeren. He believes it a tool to oppress people. It has done little to protect him, and is currently seeking to make him pay for the murder of his family. He wonders how they can make him pay for a retribution that was, in his mind, warranted. A hundred years is a long time to wait for justice.
Vaeren is exceptionally wizened. Perhaps it is his long life that is responsible for this, or maybe he is naturally disposed. It matters not for those who meet Vaeren. As they are usually swayed in the direction that is the most beneficial. During the good time of his life he was able to learn and enjoy the arts. He has had many lifetimes of experience that have made him able to recall more than the average man. All this, however, is betrayed by his appearance and the dark, gruff, demeanor slavery has imparted upon him. If he is to be taken in, trusted, and heeded it is not through the persuasiveness of his charm or his beauty, but of the truth in his words and his actions.
Attributes: STR 10 CON 16 DEX 11 INT 13 WIS 19 CHA 7
Just turning 70, Dartingclaw was about to receive his adult name before he awoke in a strange, new forest...
He had spent his entire life in the Trumas Forest near the Highvale Range. His people used caverns along the wood's edge as shelter and the forest for sustenance. Mountain streams and springs provided fresh water to sustain the fifty-strong tribe. He was born of noble blood, at least as noble as Kagonesti can be. His father was the chieftain of his tribe, and his mother had been married to his father as custom dictates when two Kagonesti tribes meet - his mother was the daughter of a neighboring tribe's chieftain.
His life until now had been fairly uneventful. He trained with his father in the druidic arts, mastering the ability to change into a wolverine. He was quite adept at moving quickly and striking suddenly, granting him his childhood name of Dartingclaw. An uneventful, predetermined life was of no interest to him. He knew he was to follow in his father's footsteps - grow old, marry, and lead a clan of Kagonesti of his own. Its the way it had been for centuries. Even the cataclysm changed little of the Kagonesti ways. He would often daydream about wondering the world, experience what was beyond the mountain range. He had heard stories of the forests of stone, where giant horned and hooved men lived. This is where he yearned to go see the most.
Dartingclaw has short, midnight, black hair. His eyes are the color of the noon sky. His skin is a leathery tan. He has a strong physique and carries himself with cat-like grace. To the average human he would stand only breast-high. He is clad in green-dyed, well-tailored hides. Around his neck sits a chain of different animal claws. He carries a well-worn wooden staff with intricate carvings.
He carries himself with an almost supernatural calm. His steps are quiet, well-placed, and light. His speech seems slow and methodical. If you knew the language he spoke, you'd recognize that he speaks slowly because it takes him awhile to form his sentences and thoughts. You'd recognize that perhaps he is not the smartest Kagonesti.
As you spend more time with the elf you notice that he is very instinctual. It would take him awhile to explain to you what he was doing, but he capably and adeptly accomplishes tasks such as foraging, scouting, and healing. He seems to be keenly aware of his surroundings and what is going on, but he might not be able to explain it or comprehend it completely.
Dartingclaw has been raised by a tribe that would seem particularly harsh by an outsider. They are very in tune with nature, where the strong, fast, and clever are respected and adhered to. Interfering with the balance of kill or be killed is rarely practiced. The tribe protects their own fiercely, but does not come to the aid of strangers unless it benefits them. Strength is born from suffering and his tribe does little to ease the suffering of things. However, nothing gains strength from destruction. He has been taught since he was a young child that he must protect the world from destruction.
Dartingclaw has joined hunting parties to exterminate hunters, loggers, etc. Their pray has no quarry and oftentimes he has left woman and children to fend for themselves after he fell their husbands and fathers. The only people's lives that have value is his own clan's. The paradigm of human life being sacred is beyond his comprehension. Murder being an unlawful act in cities would make no sense to him, but he would respect the 'natural law.' If they are doing nothing to harm him or interfere with him, he will let them exist, but if he is starving and they have the means to feed him, he will not hesitate to 'murder' them.
Dartingclaw worships nature and everything that constitutes - the air, the trees, the sun, etc. He views it as a whole and a living, breathing, entity itself. Gods are not a foreign thought to him, as legends have been passed down in his clans about them. He views the gods as aspects of nature. If his belief were to be classified in the pantheon, his worship would most likely resemble worship to the high god.
He is not crude or unwelcoming. He is friendly and welcomes the company of others. Especially those who have experienced the world. Although he is curious and asks many question, he oftentimes takes awhile to fully comprehend the answers he is given. He can't recall many facts, but he oftentimes instinctively knows the correct course of action or answer.
Last Edit: Apr 17, 2011 12:04:12 GMT -5 by maketasty
Post by dracenfels on Mar 26, 2011 16:52:53 GMT -5
Ylric Silverfoot of the boar clan stands 6 feet tall and is considered freakishly tall for a Tamire elf. Ridiculed as child not only for being tall but for his light complexion, green eyes, and silvery hair, Ylric felt like an outcast from the very beginning. He looked nothing like his parents. The clan elders would tell him that the blood of the ancients ran strong through his veins but that didn’t make him feel any better growing up. It wasn’t until he came into his young adulthood that he began to feel somewhat accepted. His prowess as a hunter was unmatched. He was quick, nimble and deadly accurate with a great bow. However it was his ferocity in spear combat that earned him the respect of his clansmen. During one of his training sessions he was pitted against an older more experience warrior name Darok. Darok, was physically superior in almost every way to Ylric’s frail looking body. He was stronger, tougher, and he was an accomplished spearman. Everyone expected Darok to wipe the floor with the less experienced Ylric but this was not to be. Ylric dodged Darok’s first spear thrust, moved in quickly and kicked Darok right in the jaw, knocking him flat on his back for 10 minutes. The elder’s were so impressed by this pale-footed hunter’s victory, that on the night of his coming of age ritual, he was given the clan name Silverfoot. His resemblance to the Sylvan elves of old was no longer a faux pas; it was a mark of strength and a badge of honor.
Ylric is a man of little words that prefers to let his actions speak for themselves. However he is not the bashful type either. In fact he is quite opinionated and will speak his mind when he needs to. He is blunt and to the point. He is a warrior first and foremost. If you are his friend, he will risk his life for you without hesitation. If you are his foe he will seek to destroy you with the same amount of determination. He cares little of the history of things or of the past and prefers to focus on the present. For Ylric, the battlefield is the only history book he will ever need. His love for the fey is insurmountable and nothing disturbs him more than those that disrespect the great spirit of the wild. He his tolerates most people and races but those that harm nature are to be run through with out mercy.
Eventually Ylric grew tired of the constant clan fighting and beast tending and decided to go adventuring on his own. His only friend is a bard, named (Mick Jaguar), he met several years ago in Kristophan, the apex of the minotaur empire. They have been making a decent living entertaining people throughout the land. Ylric stuns the crowd with his acrobatic feats, while the bard charms them with his music and song. They’d take turns pickpocketing unsuspecting patrons, although Ylric was obviously much better at it. It was only a matter of time till the bard was caught and spent 30 days in the Kristophan jail. They were about to ship him off to a mining camp when Ylric worked out a deal to secure his freedom. They were to perform their show for the king himself. If they gained his fancy they were free men, if not, both of them would suffer a life of slavery in the Mines of Murglemouth. Luckily, their performance was top notch and Emperor Ambeoutin XI was quite pleased. It is doubtful Mick would ever forget what his elven friend had done for him. Ylric, however, simply said, “You would have done the same, speak of it no more”. The two vowed to never speak of it again and if there was any purse snatching to be done, it would be done by Ylric.
Ylric is an archer ranger and kind of a barbarian. Actually I picture him more like a native american type. Like a Navajo warrior of the fey.
Post by dracenfels on Mar 26, 2011 23:54:59 GMT -5
Or make him have tourette syndrome where he sporadically and uncontrollably shouts out different rolling stones lyrics like..."I'm a MONKEEEEEY Maaan!" or when he walks into a room he'll sing "Please allow me to introduce myself..." when the barbarian bashes someone on the head, "Shattered ...Shattered..uhuh" heheh
Post by Kelgate(Tom) on Mar 27, 2011 21:22:17 GMT -5
CAUTION: WILL BITE!![/size]
Background can be changed, and will change based on the decision of the DM to fit in with the group, and the story as a whole. First attempt and draft
Place of Birth:Blackwater Glade Family: Regortak[Father-Alive], Iszeno[Female-Alive], Ezerkon[Brother-Alive]. All live in the Glade. Homeland: Blackwater Glade Tribe-Name:Swamprunner
We all have a bit of nature derived in us all. We all enjoyed the love of being out in the open, enjoying the sights, and feeling our animalistic, and primal natures.... Though one creature decided to take the essence of what Taladas gave to him to heart. The knowledge of the Cataclysm is still unknown to Zissren, who was not even born through the destruction that it caused, or what some of the Dragonmen had known as, a new beginning.
People knew not to delve into the depths of Blackwater Glade, with several Bakali tribes flowing around with a high disdain, and dislike for the humans of Taladas. One such tribe that invoked a more primal side was the Swamprunners... No one wanted to be caught in the swamp while they were around. Brutal, savage, and one even humans didn't want to draw near for any such treaties due to the extreme barbaric nature they wish to indulge on those that didn't know the line they crossed.
Zissren himself has felt the rage of the spirits of the lands fill his veins at an early age. A member of the Swamprunners, he was trained at a very young age to defend himself, with the traditional means of the longspear, used mainly to keep the alligators and the swamp cats that lurked. The longspear was also a tool for the Bakali, used as a form of fishing when times became rough.
Zissren learned at an early age to distrust the humans that flowed around by his father, Regortak. An older, Bakali who had seen the hardships of the Cataclysm but also the resources it had gained. They were now the rulers of the glade. He was thought, and given the knowledge that humans were the enemies, and as such.. Zissren's known grew even at an early age. Days were spent where his father built his mind as a tool of weaponry as much as his body, and sadly.. As wise as Zissren could be, he had trouble... Showing and explaining what his mind was and knowledge gave him.
Another sign of his distrust grew with his brother, Ezerkon who knew full hand of what the humans were capable of. Unlike his brother, Zissren had not gotten caught by the swampers that attempted to trespass on their territory and Ezerkon had some battle wounds to show for it. His tail, was severely damaged with cuts along its hardened scales, and his right eye, was not a sight to see for their was no eye to be seen. Even with his limitations Ezerkon built the body of Zissren through training, both physical and nurturing of his brother, he became the perfect sparing partner to train with. The duo even going as far as traveling on mini-raids across the glade was wild-game, and even sometimes... the prey became those that dared partake a bit further into the middle of the danger.
It was all a game to them, to toy the quivering humanoid in fear, muttering about dragonmen before the poor morsel became a fine meal for the tribe... but even in time, there was still a tradition that needed to be kept. The elders of the tribe, thought it was finally time for Zissren to follow the path that each Bakali of the Swamprunners took, they must travel to the outer rim of the glade, before moving onto the lands to bring back something of importance. Anything that would be a reminder of their journey as a sign of their growing maturity. Zissren was gifted with only the bare essentials, weapons, armor, and a few tools for living, and feeding when worse came to worse. The only rule that Zissren himself had to follow was brought down by the elders. "Do not harm those, that were brave enough to make a treaty with the Swamprunners." True to the Bakali honor, that trust and honor of the words of the elder will be a lasting impression on his mind because everything else... was fair game.
Zissren was much larger then most other races around Taladas, always looking down around at the others, with that neck shapened in a crook, allowing his head to snap outwards, the curve the neck provided providing a better motion for his head to bite anything that came close. Green scales adorned his body, hardened without much wear of battle. No battle scars was fitted to show the hard-times, still a relative new-blood to the battle world physically but one that took no time getting into the meat of battle. Muscles laid within the scales, coming forth with each movement of those strong, powerful legs and through the biceps of his arms. The Bakali was definitely a mighty specimen at first glance. A soft white undertone was displayed on his stomach while a golden fin rested on the top of his head, matching the golden hue of those eyes, that animalistic gaze.
Strapped across his abdomen, hiding that soft white undertone was hide that was formed, and made in the shape of armor. The hide of the latest Swamp cat that crossed his path was his useful means of using the scales, and the armor as a necessity to avoid any harsh shots from his foes. Attached to the hide, by a simple string was one, very long spear, not well crafted. One may assume it was built by his talon-like hands alone, sharpened at the tip by a rather large rock, enough of an edge to wretch into a roar of rage and into a saddened creature. The only other objects of note was the thick, scaley tail that squirmed around from side to side, to help not only balance Zissren, but has been learned to be quite a weapon in his time of need, and speaking of weaponry, the tool in which he likes to carry in both hands, the raw might of that large hammer of a maul grasped against those talons of fingers.
Now with a strength like Zissren, there has to be some flaws to his prowess and that came to his speech, always rolling the S sound more then once in a while. Zissren also had a nasty habit, and tendency to dive into battle even if the odds look bleak, solely on the case of letting that adrenaline, the intoxication of it flowing through your veins while the honor of the Bakali still rain supreme in his mind! Their courage was measured in battle, and no matter if they lost or won, a battle was courageous and honorable in their eyes. Do not get too close to Zissren however, because he also had a habit of biting those that get close.
Zissren is not quite as promising on a mental side while his physical side is impressive. He is wise, filled to the brim with the knowledge his father had given him, and yet, he cannot decipher the script of his mind to bring it out into words. He is a pretty serious individual, hardly one to make a snicker, or a laugh, and will without a doubt snap at anyone who gets close, or gets in his way. He follows the same morals and beliefs of his Bakali brethren of his time, and of his tribe. Honor was something that dwelled deep into his mind, knowing both what has happened, and the ill that are reminded by them. Zissren does not trust easily, especially when it comes to humans in particular, but if one does gain his trust, they gain an ally until they do something to temper the "dragonman"
His short term, and long term goals can be translated together for they are almost one and the same. Short term is to travel by any means necessary, wheither it be through battle, or walking... and venture forth into the land of unknown to finish the ideals and tradition passed on by the tribe, and his long term goals is to fully be accepted by the Swamprunners when he returns, and continue the circle of like that the tribe live by, returning once more to the Glade.
Ability scores for reference:
STR: 18 CON: 17 DEX: 13 INT: 8 WIS: 12 CHA: 14
Last Edit: Mar 28, 2011 8:48:19 GMT -5 by Demogorgon