Roster

KellyCat · Oct 7 '12, 1:43am

Characters go here.

Heavenshounds · Oct 11 '12, 3:34am

Name: Kaliska
Class: ranger
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Description:

Personality: Youthful, vivacious, playful and independent: Kaliska is driven by the single goal of her own entertainment. She abhors restrictions and bucks tradition. She does what she wants, when she wants, if for no other reason than it seemed amusing at the time. Being a ranger allows her the freedom she requires, though she usually stays in the vicinity of towns of sufficient size to provide entertainment, the supplies she can’t forage, and the human socialization she desires. While she enjoys her freedom, and covets the ability to act without restraints she is highly social and enjoys being around others. Her favorite form of amusement lies in observing and manipulating the way people react to stimuli. She may try to annoy, flatter, negotiate, or harass others to see what responses she gets. She enjoys the challenge of trying to get others to act in a manner outside of their character. She will try to bed a dutiful husband, infuriate the pious to violence, or motivate the cruel to respond to her with compassion. In these endeavors she shows otherwise uncharacteristic patience and surprising subtlety when carefully manipulating the emotions and actions of another. She finds herself often moving town to town, seeking a clean slate to play her games when a prior “playing field” becomes embittered or when she has aggrieved a sufficiently powerful individual that, if she were to remain, she could be at concerning risk of reprisal. When presented with a puzzle that piques her interest she often becomes engrossed in the attempt to identify the answer, ignoring things that until that point had been occupying her time or attention. In the exceptionally rare occurrence that she would tie her loyalties to a person, institution, or ideal she would alter her behavior to keep from causing harm to that person or thing harm, and she would go out of her way to do things for their benefit since seeing them happy would be enjoyable to her, the exception would be if such action would cost her significant injury or loss. Additionally, when faced with death she will always place her own life ahead of anything else.

Back Story: Kaliska grew up in a medium sized town nestled on the leeward crook of Mission Ridge. The town enjoyed diplomatic importance with their control of an important mountain pass which residents had used to create a thriving trade system which spawned a hub of eclectic language, culture, and wares. Most residents lived easy lives as an intermediary between buyers and sellers traveling to the town for trade or as more dubious silver-tongues and pick pockets, their crop unsuspecting travelers, unwise to the ways of a bigger town. Usually rare creatures, items, and knowledge were common and melded into a daily jumble of noise and commotion in the city streets, without regard to hour or season.

Kaliska had the providence to be born as the fifth child of affluent tradesmen, partnered for mutual financial benefit. Her birth granted her the resources of the wealthy, and the freedom to exercise them. Her youngest years were spent pouring through the endlessly shifting wares, her education the stories that accompanied each unique piece. As a result she has a passing knowledge of arcana and recent history.

When an older age afforded her more mobility her curiosity spilled her into the streets of the town, immersed in the languages and characteristics of a score of species and a hundred cultures. Though emersion she became fluent in a swatch of languages including Sylvan, Elven and Dwarven. When her curiosity and lack of fear would find her in trouble her parents dutifully paid what fines and bribes were required to remove any significant consequences of Kaliska’s actions, and her parent’s wealth assured her social standing was not adversely affected by Kaliska’s adventures. Through this she developed a feeling of immunity, and even now she has difficulty fully realizing the true scope of harm she could face if her luck ever ran out.

After some years, even the bustling town and seedier outskirts could no longer hold her interest and her travels spilled her into the surrounding forests. The deadly quiet and underlying calm of the sprawling forest stood in stark contrast to the world she had inhabited to that point and her interest was instantly roused. She spent years tracing along the mountains and lower into the valleys carved with rivers and caves. She learned archery as a way to protect herself during the travels and her parent’s coin afforded the best instruction to develop her new hobby. Her parents considered the cost of lessons a great investment as her woodland expeditions kept her out of trouble within the city and saved her parents the, until then, tryingly regular payments her tomfoolery effected. As had been increasingly true her entire life, as soon as she had explored one thing to her own satisfaction, she felt pulled further, drawn to explore, experience, and enjoy the next unknown. Her month long travels stretched and she would be gone a year before returning home. The last time she left her town, even she was unsure when she might return. For the last four years she has bounced from village to town to city seeking the next adventure, relying on her skills as a ranger to keep her safe in the treks between hubs and her skills of deception to keep her safe when she arrived.

Sample RP:
I sat… well perched would be a term more reflective of the active stance I held on the edge of the pew, the cramp developing in my legs from the strained position going unnoticed in my anticipation. My hands, so seldom idle, fiddled with the hem of the dress shirt I had been forced to knick from a clothing line to keep from standing out overmuch in the crowd of somber clergy and brainwashed townsmen that sat blank eyed, empty minded, dressed in their threadbare Sunday best around me. A row of rod straight “holy” mercenaries stood at the front of the gilded room, the focal point of today’s entertainment. A tall man with coal dust hair and bedecked in highly polished armor stood in front of the line of men and spoke in booming catch phrases, his loud words carrying easily to the back of the filled room. “honor, blah blah blah, something” and “marking a passage of yadda yadda yadda” the whole honeyed speech was honestly lost on me as I allowed my mind to wander to last night’s events.

It had been hard sneaking into the surprisingly militaristic religious compound. Hoity-toity guards who took their jobs way too seriously strutted up and down an annoying number of corridors and passageways, making entry difficult (but with enough time, stealth, and motivation not, as it turned out, impossible). After hours of careful movement I stood alone in the ceremony hall. The dais at the front sported a podium, a smaller stand held the ceremonial “holy” water. Almost skipping I slid up to the basin, pouring a large vial into the still water adding a er… home grown contribution. My goal completed, I took equal care slipping out of the compound. I hadn’t been able to sleep in the remaining night left to me, buzzing with excitement, I settled for arriving early at the hall in an attempt to get a good vantage point for the days swearing in of new recruits to the religious order.

Despite myself I felt my lip curl up, the hint of a smile playing across features I was attempting to rearrange to show the appropriate level of solemnity as the boisterous leader turned to the line of entirely too solemn men. Dipping his finger into the water he conscientiously dabbed the man on the forehead, reciting some religious bullshit and moving down the line. My blank façade was a herculean effort which slipped when the leader neared the end of the line. The man he stood before now had a pride on his face, bordering rapture. He looked to skyward as the leader touched a wet finger to the man’s forehead. The recruit’s joy was palpable as the emulsion traced the lines of his face and damped the collar of his frock. The sight of the unknowingly befouled man, glowing gleefully and fully unaware my urine was drizzled across his face by the high mucketymuck himself was too much in the end and I was helpless as a roar of laughter ripped out of my throat echoing in the too still room, a foreign sound of amusement unknown prior in the somber hall. A guard along the wall quickly cut the crowd, grabbing my arm with unnecessary force and guiding me roughly out of the hall behind him. I couldn’t wait to break my great caper to the serious dopes when they questioned me about the scene. I could already see the look of incomprehension on their stony faces. I’d probably have to leave this town after this stunt, but what a way to go! I may not even have to move on quite yet, I mean what’s the worst a group of light loving looneys could do?

Celtic Guardian 7 · 11:24pm

Name: Shana Clearwater
Class: Rogue
Race: Elf
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Description: On a normal day, Shana wears a tight black tanktop with matching shorts. White clothes accompany this in the form of a skirt with slits for easy movement, sleeves with lengthy amounts of cloth at the elbows, and boots that nearly reach her knees. Her skin is tanned from many years spent outdoors more often than being inside. A red tattoo on her right shoulder stands out from her low-cut shirt. Her silver shoulder-length hair has a yellow flower on the left side, one that compliments her blue eyes well. She also keeps a black cloak that she covers herself with when relying on stealth, as otherwise her normal attire would stand out too much amongst the shadows.

Personality: To people she has just met, Shana does her best to make herself seem unapproachable. She speaks shortly and tends to have more unpleasant rather than encouraging words. But she can only keep this up for so long. When spending time with others, she grows attached to them even if she does not want to, to the point that she would do whatever necessary to help them out. Another tip off to her true feelings is how she reacts when someone is in trouble. Shana usually will go out of her way to help such people, even if she denies after the incident that she was concerned. She does not steal as much as she used to, restricting herself only to people she views as truly vile. Even so, her skills in areas such as pickpocketing and sneaking into locations are above average.
Backstory:

Shana was born unexpectedly early to her traveling mother. The birthing process was done in a small human village she managed to stop at. When her mother died giving birth and the villagers had no idea of who her father was or where he might be, they decided to adopt Shana as one of their own. She was taken in by an older couple that had never had children. For the first twenty years of her life, she grew up loving these people. Then they died of old age, which caused her to go to the next family that was willing to care for her. Their passing occurred when she was seventy-five, and her final adoptive parents were both dead by the time she was one hundred five. Outliving what she considered her family was painful to Shana, and rather than associating herself with anyone else from the village, she quickly left to travel elsewhere.

Originally, Shana wanted to find a new home amongst elves. Since their lifespans would equal hers, she felt it was the only way to make connections without suffering from losing them. Shana traveled for a few years while making the money she needed to continue by stealing from wealthy individuals. Her choice to commit crimes like this were done for a couple of reasons. One was that from how she was raised, she never got a chance to learn about jobs she could reasonably hold while journeying. Another was that by viewing other people as nothing more than marks, she had no chance to get attached to them. She could not bring herself to steal from people who were poor or in desperate need of their funds, but she did not restrict herself anywhere else.

One such person she tried to steal from was a traveler in a forest she went through. Shana was caught in the attempt, but was more startled to find he was a fellow elf. When she told him she was looking for other elves to live with, he considered her request before saying he knew of such a location. If she proved herself to be a good person, he would take her there. He introduced himself as Jerod and offered to let her travel with him as he analyzed her actions. Though Shana was not fond of Jerod, this was the closest she had come to realizing her goal. She reluctantly agreed to his proposal.

The two of them traveled together for a year. In this time, Shana grew to care for her partner. She showed herself to be a loyal companion in spite of them getting into arguments several times. They looked out for each other, and in the end, Jerod said he felt she had more than shown him to be worth helping. By this point, she was not so eager to find a location with only elves, having gotten attached to Jerod enough so as to ease her loneliness. In the end, they admitted having feelings for each other and decided to continue their adventuring. They planned on being wed back at the town that was nearest to where they first met and traveled back toward it.

It was on the way there that the duo got attacked by a group of assailants. Whether they were bandits or after something else, Shana was not sure. In the chaos of the fight, Shana had a knife shoved through her shoulder and wound up falling over the side of a cliff. Though foliage broke her fall for a good portion of the plummet, she was severely wounded by it. It took her a long time to get back to where they had been. When she arrived, all she found was a spot in the road severely stained with blood. It hit her then that even with those who had similar lifespans naturally could be taken through other means.

Determined not to get attached to anyone else again, Shana went back to her old way of living. She used some of the funds she had acquired legitimately with Jerod to cover the scar on her shoulder with a tattoo, which was shaped like the symbol he had planned on getting carved into a wedding ring for her. It was the only thing she let herself have to remember him by. Ever since, she has tried to keep her distance from other people. This has been difficult for her, since when traveling with Jerod, she had become accustomed to helping other people. The loneliness she felt did not help matters either. But the thought of losing another loved one has made it hard for her to open to those she meets.

Roleplay Sample:

psiphre · Oct 16 '12, 5:00am

Name: Jordan
Class: Bard
Race: Human
Alignment Chaotic Good
Backstory: check
Description: check
Personality: check

I arrived in Issaquah late in the afternoon. It had been a long six-day march around the edge of lake Sammamish, but rewarding none the less. It gave me plenty of time to get to know Travis, the peasant I had agreed to take on as a hireling in the last village I passed through. I rarely stayed long in these small fishing villages where nothing exciting ever happened, and this boy had the wanderlust in his eye same as I had at his age. I on my horse and he walking alongside my pack mule, we passed the days in light conversation and the retelling of stories. I have many, many stories. In the evenings, Travis tended the animals and cooked while I added the day's travel to my maps.

I set out on my own at a young age. Not a fishing, but a farming community was where I grew up. I was admittedly a bit of a bookworm, constantly causing my parents' ire by burning candles long into the night in order to read the few books that I could borrow from the other villagers. I always took care of them. History books were my favorite. Tales of huge cities, amazing machines, political intrigue that spanned continents. I was fascinated, and one day shortly after my 18th birthday, I told them I was leaving. No small farm and homely peasant girl, backbreaking labor season after season for me. It was surprising how difficult it was to go, but I am glad I did.

Ruins of one of the Great Old Cities were several weeks away, and dangerous, so I fell in with a group of like-minded individuals. We would travel by day and camp by night, heckling each other and boasting about what we would find in the ruins when we got there. Great riches, amazing knowledge, maybe even a lost civilization? The sky was the limit. Our first foray was a success, or so we thought. We hauled a hundred pounds each of priceless artifacts back to one of the larger cities. Turns out it was all worthless junk. Discouraged, our group disbanded, and most ended up taking up a trade in the city. But not me. I stayed with this scholar, that scholar, learning from them what there was to know about the ruins, and in time set back out on my own. it's been a long and lonely road that has led me here to Issaquah, where I've heard rumors of great secrets. Tonight I shall begin to find out if those rumors are true.

Small communities such as this rarely have available lodging, and most fishmongers are loathe to take on an extra mouth, let alone two, the way farmers will. Tonight, though, I am in luck. Lake Sammamish's smattering of fishing villages must trade, and trading means itinerants. No inn to be found, but a tavern will do, yes. I tie my horse and tell Travis to wait, then walk inside to speak with the owner. He is reluctant at first to stable my animals for the night, but I have silver and he has room. A deal is struck and, thanking him heartily, I instruct Travis to tend the animals.

Over the next several hours, which I spend chatting with the tavern's owner and regulars, I note the friendly demeanor of the patrons, the serving wench's eye for Travis, and listen to the bit of gossip that comes my way. By the time the sun is setting, cold and tired fishermen begin filtering in for their nightly dose of fire and ale and drinking songs. bragging and lamenting with each other the day's catch is the order of business, and a tale comes to my mind of a small fishing community much like this one, a fishmonger's son and the spirit of the lake who appears to him as a beautiful young lady. I stand and step toward the hearth.

"Gentlemen," I call over the row, "I can see the day has made you weary and wet and cold. If I may beg your attention for a short while, let the fire warm your bones and the ale warm your bellies, and me, well... allow me to tell you a story..."

GoldenBoy · 1:01am

Name: Landin
Class: Cleric
Race: Human
Alignment: Neutral Good

Personality and sample RP are coming

TonberryKing · Oct 18 '12, 1:02am

Name: Ursa
Class: (Unarmed) Swordsage
Race: Shifter
Alignment: True Neutral, CG leanings

In the dawn hours after the old world died, with the full moon descendant, the first lycanthropes were born. They were both man-beasts and monsters, savage souls and heartless animals...depending on which you encountered. But three centuries later in their wake, there was a race of mostly-men, partly-animals in the world; the ones that Time had gifted back both humanity and some of the were-beasts' physical gifts.

Naturally, everyone else mistrusted them.

Some were brutes, filling the nightmarish imagery of old monsters, others were not. In Ursa's case, she's played both roles, perhaps the more resilient for it. Her earliest childhood had both a mother and a father present, giving her little to complain about when surrounded by other shifters in the dregs of a community she can't recall the name of. But what she can recall was that there was pit fighting there; underground fights heralded by gamblers and anyone regardless of shape was welcome to throw their coin on a fight...if not fight themselves.

Her father, a mountain of a man, would have been just fine in the pit with his stature alone, but he was smarter than that. For the sake of his family he was disciplined, had sought out ways to fight without weapons and honed himself into a wrecking ball of an opponent. Ursa knew this, though she wasn't allowed anywhere near the Pit, and both she and her ursine-like mother were content to leave him to his business. Until a fight went sour, leaving her father with a crippled arm, and a ban from the pit after what he did to the men that ruined him.

Without *quite* understanding why, Ursa soon took his place. Not immediately of course, but as her father's remaining prize money still remained, he took his only child and disciplined her into a wary, cunning, and defensive fighter. To everyone's surprise, Ursa was monstrously good at it; surpassing her father in terms of skill if not strength; she would one day become an unarmed savant. She took his place in the pits by the time she was 14, and for many years earned the money her family needed. Her innocence was pounded out with each punch and kick; she realized what people were capable of fighting in a ring without many rules. She came to realize people would hate her, even if she was the underdog in the fight, because she was so different. People wanted a piece of her just for being the bear-woman with stone shattering strikes.

In time, her father trained other shifters, had other means to support him and his aging wife, and Ursa eventually left. Wanderlust, a desire to move past the fights after her mindset ascended past being a thoughtless brawler, simply wanting to SEE the waste of the world, these things and more prodded Ursa's exodus. In that time she's gone back to the pit-fights, only in different cities, been a bodyguard, and otherwise lived a life of a mercenary with a high opinion of herself, a lower opinion of everything else. She's had friends, too many foes, and known cheats and cheated herself. She's even known love, but good luck trying to get her to talk about the cute hedgewizard who was her paramour for some time back southwest. Some secrets aren't wrested so easily.