Name: Warrain
Class: Dedicated Hero 3 / Shaman 1


Personality:Shy, rather introspective, and (seemingly) distant from most. His mind constantly drifts on what is expected of him and what his future is to be, rather than really enjoying much of the moment Overall he has a tendency to prefer training and contemplation than most forms of conversation, at least outside of what they are studying. He definitely will speak up if something seems to be going wrong, but he tries to be distantly friendly with everyone and doesn't seem to be too much concerned with taking the lead himself. Of course, he *is* willing to speak up when things are "wrong", and doesn't hesitate to do what needs to be done if need be. Words had a particular power, and to waste them, like wasting anything else, spoke of dishonoring one's family and shaming the memory of one's father.

Despite this, his mood rapidly changes when confronted with something new or learning. In that case all pretense of disinterest drops, and he eagerly pursues the object of his recent attention. He is relentless in his drive for yet more knowledge, and quite willing to go to extremes to pursue his quarry.

Life is capricious, and oftentimes unfortunate. These are not new and amazing mysteries to one who is well-versed in the spirit and healing arts; the line between death and life is oft nebulous and ill-defined. For those who lived in the shade of Uluru, it was surmised long ago that to be near such a great monument would bring great and terrible things. One day.

Warrain has lived all his life in wilds past the Uluru rock. More perceptive than most, he has taken early training in the arts of a shaman, ever eager to learn what mysteries the spirits would hold for one willing to listen to their whispers. Disregarding the more sage advice of his elders, he plunged on seeking ever-nuanced levels of power and insight that more cautious souls would fear to peer down. For such laughable concerns, he would only stare back with those steeled eyes and ask such "Honored grandfather, to survive all things must be known and considered, yes? Ignorance is weakness. And the weak die."

It was this same motive of knowledge despite all costs that had led Warrain to explore, to consider beyond the confines of his smaller band of family, that which he had known. Long nights spent gazing up at the stars and into his soul has left him with an equanimity and balanced perspective most find hard to reach. Friends who had been close had drifted apart; oh, he was still the caring and kind soul as always, but his eyes held more melancholy and terrible things. Primordial, twisting dreams and whispered urgings of the spirits late into the nights left their toll on him, and more than one night he had woken up screaming.

Blessed (or cursed, some viewed the shaman apprentices as the "unfortunate ones" with an affinity for the work, he took his first dreamwalk, finding his soul laid bare before the assembled Spirits of the World and torn asunder, rebuilt into an image more desirable and receptive to their call. His inquisitive mind a bright beacon, it was reciprocated by an endless desire for yet *more* information, yet *more* to be seen. The skies and the land had changed, in the past few months. Ranging weeks further afield in learning of new plants and medicines, he had been unable to be at ease with his family when change came upon their village.

Nothing much to speak of is left, in those times. Where once his firepit, hunched over cooking meals with family and kin, there was now ashes and the tribe had moved on. Rainstorms had wiped out passage of his family and kin, and a few scattered bodies, heavy with the smell of death as the lingering ghosts of the spirits departed whispered to him. Time had not allowed for them to properly be respected, and the next two days had seen him kneeling in the muck, performing the last rites he had been taught, ways all too familiar to one who lived in the lands of the "starving times".

"Go. Death is but a change in worlds. More lies beyond, at least, for you."

What remained of the band had moved on, having left behind only hardened memories for Warrain. Eager to plumb the source of these woes and his remnants of a life, he gathered up what supplies he could and started for Uluru. Garbed in gear for a war with the spirits themselves, he would be a warrior to make his memory of his kin proud. There, there at Uluru he would face down the Spirits of the World, and he would asks his questions.

And he would not falter. Not this time.

Luconkitcarchrath or "Luc"
Rapatos Smart 3

Lizzy Steele

William Bell, Private Investigator

BackgroundWilliam Bell is the son of a wealthy family whose money comes primarily from the industrial sector though they have very little to do with the day-to-day aspects of the businesses in their name. More than a century ago, the family were able to meld the aspects of industry and magic together and though there has ever since been an individual who can wield the magic arts, the family are quite adept at ruling the boardrooms, purchasing smaller companies and even pushing those that wont sell out of business. William on the other hand, simply wasn’t interested. From a young age he enjoyed the freedom that the world could offer a boy of moderate strength and higher than average intelligence and the streets became his plaything whenever he could evade the attentions of his minders. His father repeatedly threatened to cut him off, his mother constantly dotted on him both in the hopes that their style of parentage would convince him to change his ways but nothing could sway William, or so it seemed.

It was when he was fourteen years old that William first really understood the laws of Arcadia, he had stolen a few pieces of fruit over the years - not that he couldn’t afford it, mind - and he had caused his fair share of mischief but never anything that he would consider wrong. When he saw the bodies strung up, dried blood pooled beneath them, he realised that there were worse things in the world than being forced to sit in on meetings to discuss profit margins and new sources of revenue. There were murderers, rapists, arsonists... for every crime, there was someone to commit it and for every law there was someone to break it. With the city’s watch stretched thin, William began to daydream of becoming one of their number until he saw for himself the corruption that visibly ate at the lower levels of the establishment.

Small shops and merchant stands paying ‘protection money’, whores selling their trade taken aside by the men that were supposed to dissuade them from their business for ‘payment through trade’. The streets gave William an education in people, how they lived their lives, and these revelations turned his stomach. It wasn’t until he was twenty-three that he found a calling. He had studied the law, memorising the books the city had on the subject, and his family - feeling that this was a far better use of his time than running the streets - were happy to pay for tuition in the subjects. He learnt how to investigate the scene of a crime using modern sciences, chemicals and powders that could tell him the metallurgical makeup of bullets or reveal the fingerprints of those who had loaded the cartridges into a revolver. The hobby, or so his parents thought, blossomed into a full time career when he used his money to rent a building on the outskirts of the city where the poorer citizens lived, where crime was an every day occurrence. William Bell, Private Investigator and Bounty Hunter; no crime too small, no bounty too big.

It was bravado, of course. He had no practical experience though he had trained with the revolvers he kept at his hips, but over the years he took every case that came his way, making nowhere near enough money to please his parents but more than enough for him to carve out a living. His knowledge on investigative procedures came to the attention of the watch two years into his career and now they contract him as a consultant on cases. Although not a member of the watch, he has a badge identifying him as a consultant and ‘licensing’ him to investigate crimes. Unfortunately his revolvers have seen more use than he’d like but the life hasn’t deterred William in the slightest.

PersonalityWilliam is a driven man who is prone to losing himself in his work, when a new case comes knocking at his door he rushes to answer and when he’s not solving crimes or hunting down criminals who have fled the justice of the City he studies the broadsheets for any patterns or hints of what is going on in his city. He feels that as he’s able to do something, he should, and even when injured he tends to push himself too hard. It’s not irregular for him to be walking around in the early hours of the morning having not slept, his eyes ringed by dark circles, his face accompanied by a shadow of stubble and yesterdays clothes still on but when he leaves the office that also serves as his house he takes great care to dress appropriately.

AppearanceWilliam is a rather serious looking young man of twenty-six years though his blue eyes 'speak' of sadness that most would think beyond his years, a result of seeing some of the saddest sights of the city and its people since becoming a private investigator. Although he has his hair cut to frame his face, William frequently runs his fingers through it when lost in thought which results in it being more of a tussled mess, often dusted with powders he has been using for his scientific investigations. Despite leaving behind the wealth of his family, William continues to dress in relative fineries; black leather ankle high boots, soft black trousers and a pristine white shirt over which he wears a brown waistcoat and a black duster which doubles as a protective garment. The strangest part of this outfit is by far the duster as the bottom is designed so that it looks to of been cut to ribbons, the material flapping in the wind and snapping audibly and almost in an intimidating fashion however the cut is to make it easier to move swiftly without the duster impairing his movements, to climb, jump and tumble as he so often does when he's forced to draw the twin revolvers holstered at his hips.

Morri Parker, WIP

Name: Morri Parker

Appearance: [IMG][/IMG]Once a scrawny kid, Morri is now a fairly tall woman with an athletic (duh) build. She keeps her boring (to her mind) brown hair short and dyes and styles it to be ...not boring. Very not-boring are her startlingly violet eyes, once a source of teasing and still something she's slightly embarrassed by.

Background: Growing up in Public Orphanage 3, Morri was a natural target for bullies - funny looking, not too bright and eager to please. An open heart and a generous spirit aren't valued by children. Running away somehow turned into something...different. It wasn't just freedom from bullies, it was freedom. The only limits were her body's - and her body was the one thing she could control. She learned quickly (for her) who controlled which parts of the city and how to avoid the worst of them. She also discovered two things. First, and most important, she discovered Seighe. An aging warrior, Seighe took Morri under her wing and began to teach her ways to fight using only her body and also ways of centering her thoughts. Second, while children don't value an open heart or generous spirit, many adults do.

The days of being the bully's favorite "toy" are long behind Morri - she grew out of scrawny and into her looks (more or less). She still trains with Seighe. What was once an escape has now become a purpose in and of itself. Seighe added in training in various weapons, but Morri prefers not to use any when she has a choice.

Personality: Morri is friendly with a capital F. Her default setting is "like everyone". She's generally cheerful and always willing to lend a hand. She is also...well, simple. No lies, no games - she just is what she is.

EDIT: Ok. Other than gear, I think (rap wood) she's done. May I just take this time to say how much I hate the d20Modern wealth set-up?

@The Immortal and lobylia, I just caught this so you'll have to forgive me. The both of you appear to have the stats for a regular human. You both are actually supposed to be Shadowkind, which believe it or not Shadowkind Humans are different albeit slightly.

Ok, I think the only change is my STs? Since I took my feat from that list? Isn't the free language just native tongue which is already free? Or am I missing something? Shadowkin is totally new to me.

@lobilya, that is correct (assuming by ST's you actually meant skill points). Other than that your character is just fine. I'll let you know if I spot any other errors.

Well, I meant saving throws since the block you put up mentioned a +1 to all saves. But I'll go back and fix the skill points (ugh ugh ugh) later today.


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