I've also changed how data is loaded when the sheet opens.
ISSUE FIXED. PLEASE REPORT ANY ISSUES IN SITE DISCUSSION
Name: Wilfred Race/Class: Human/Bard Stat Block: Description: Wilfred is a would-be handsome young man, with baby blue eyes and smooth light brown hair cut to rest perfectly on his collar. His arrogance, however, is the huge deterring factor. He has darkly tanned skin from being outside and traveling more often than staying in an inn, and he generally wears fitted silk tunics and leather jerkin when not donning his armor. Background: Wilfred's traveling gene comes from his father, a wandering minstrel. The man hated staying in one place for too long, and though Wilfred's hatred for staying isn't as dire, he did enjoy going from city to city, meeting new people and being introduced to their various cultures. One of the cultures he had been introduced to was friendly enough to teach him how to play a flute. Woodwinds had such a soothing and inspiring sound to Wilfred, that he always kept one nearby. Eventually he felt that he had become so good at it that everyone should hear his music. Unfortunately, the ones who he played for time and time again, didn't feel the same way. A few towns that he played his absolutely amazing flute for actually ran him out, thus starting his personal wandering trek.
Traveling from town to town, he learned quite a bit, though his memory was not the best. Some experiences, however, he remembered quite well. For example, when he traveled to an elven colony, he was invited to go with some of their hunters and see how a true archer took down his prey. The beauty of their style was astounding; the way they smoothly pulled the black feathered arrows from their quivers, placed them swiftly across their fingers, pulled the string back until he was certain the bow would snap, and nearly instantly let loose the arrow to bring down their targets. Oh, the majesty of the experience, he would remember it for ages. And from that experience, he learned how to wield a bow. Though he knew he would never be as great as the elven archers, he was certainly going to pretend like he was.
"Watch this!" he would say to an audience that wasn't really paying attention. Firing an arrow at the side of a building with an imaginary target on it, he would occasionally get it to stick, but more times than not, it would simply bounce off of the wall and he would be booed off to the next town.
Description:Durin stands a few inches over four feet. He has brown eyes and although he is not old for his race, his long hair and beard are streaked with gray. His clothes are usually muted tones of greens and browns. He is rarely seen carrying an weapons as he goes about his daily business for the church. Personality: As a cleric of Erastil he is constantly about community business for the church, but he is not as successful as he might be since he is very impatient and has a rather sour personality. The towns folks and farmers he helps are aware of this and suffer his bad humour since they know he is a tried and true member of the church. He is so dedicated in his faith that he has even taken up the use of the long bow, the favored weapon of the church. He is not very good with it, so it is rare he goes on ceremonial hunts. As much as he views the importance of the church to the community, Durin loves to read. Nothing makes him happier than to find a new book. Although not blessed with a high intelligence he does love to learn new things, but enjoys most the study of the things important to the church, religion, arcana and even planar knowledge. Although not usually as concerned with combat as most dwarves, he still has training in armor and weapons gained for the protection of the community. Background: Born and raised in Eldington, Durin has from time to time left to visit several dwarven conclaves in the area, but has never sought to stay there. His parents both live in the community as merchants. They are quite proud of their son, have rationalized away his disposition by instead focusing on his good works. They are themselves faithful followers of Erastil. Lately they have become a bit concerned since clerics of Erastil are encouraged to marry and help grow the community, but there are few dwarven woman in town, none of whom are unaware of Durin's personality. This has been put aside for now as word has come that kobolds infest a nearby area. Durin, a stout enough in a fight and who happens to speak Draconic has volunteered to help rid the area of this menace. Taking up his ancestor's arms and armor he has marched forth a battle axe in one hand and a holy symbol in the other.
Name: Maglove Dryanson Race: Human/Cleric Description: Maglove is a tall human of avg build, she has long black hair that falls just past her shoulders, her eyes are the color of molten gold. Background: Maglove is a cleric in service of Sarenrae on a mission to bring the light of the sun to the world. Born with a mark on her back that resembles the sun she has always been known as blessed or cursed. She left home at age 9 to join a temple and raised as a cleric of the sun. Seeking more than to be confined like a bird in a cage she has recently left in search of adventure and to purge darkness from the world.
Description: Nalos is a typical halfling. About three feet tall, hairy feet, brown hair and eyes. He has a few nasty scars, and several missing teeth. His clothing is well-worn and sturdy, mostly leather or thick wool. He carries weapons openly, and isn't afraid to use them when necessary. Personality: Nalos isn't a nice guy. He doesn't care about strangers, and will take their money without a second thought. He doesn't go out of his way to make friends, either; it's not that he doesn't like other people, he's just sort of ambivalent. The friends that he does have, he keeps; he's very loyal to those he's close to. Money is his primary motivator, but he will help someone in great need -- for example, a starving child (maybe not the kid's parents) or a wounded animal (people, not so much). Background: Nalos grew up on the streets of Eldington. He spent his childhood getting into fights with other kids, and learned quickly how to use his size as an advantage. Of course, he didn't win them all, as his scars show, but he won enough. As he grew older, he learned how to use knives and clubs to win fights before they started. Sure, he got into trouble with the law occasionally, but few town guards were willing to follow him over rooftops and through sewers. Chases were a daily affair, for a few months in his adolescence. When his parents kicked him out of their house after the guards came by too many times, he needed to find work. Honest jobs were too hard to find for someone who wasn't brawny enough to be a dockworker, so he turned to a life of crime.
Nalos has been working as a burglar in Eldington for a good number of years now. He steals from the rich, and gives to the poor, if by "the poor" you mean tavern owners and merchants. He's done some work for the adventurer's guild, because it's easier to steal from kobolds and goblins than from wealthy merchants.
Age: She Isn't Telling
Serephelle is a very curvaceous young woman. Her hair, wavy auburn tied away from her eyes with a sash, falls down to her shoulderblades. A few loose wisps of hair hang down in front of her pale green eyes. She's very leggy, and though the difference between her waist and hips is not incredibly pronounced, her bosom is full. Her maroon dress does a wonderful job of showing off her figure, which is just the way she likes it, and she ties it tight around her waist with a leather belt and a black scarf she uses as a sash.
When one looks at
Grace, her constant companion, on the other hand, it's easy to see what Serephelle aspires to. Grace is a tall woman, six feet even, and built like a brick house. Her alabaster skin is barely concealed by black leather, including gloves and long, long horned boots. Raven black hair cascades behind her like a lush waterfall, broken by two large, curling ram horns that peek out from her forehead. A thin tail, complete with a large spade, often either twitches behind her in time with her mood, or curls around her waist, leg, or arm, and sprouting from just below her shoulder blades are a pair of small, non-functional batwings. Arcane symbols are marked around her eyes and across her forehead, that almost glow with an eerie red light; a light matched by the glow of her red eyes.