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"I am Regnart Seht and my name is a reflection of my true self." Name: Species: Human Gender: Male Class: Soldier, Qi Adpet Fighting Style, Ascetic Warrior Archetype: Psychic Detective Theme: Death Touched Bridge Crew: Gunner / Captain Gunner: BAB + DEX = +5 Captain: Diplomacy +8, Intimidate+8, Other Skills Pilot: Piloting +8 Chief Mate: Athletics +8, Acrobatics +8 Away Team: Security Officer KAC: 16 | EAC: 15 SP: 11 | HP: 11 Spot Threat: Perception +6 Recognize Hostility: Sense Motive +6 Concept: Good old fashioned human spirit can still overcome all adversity, even in the age of technology. Secret Known to Seht: Regnart Seht is an adopted alias. His real name is a closely guarded secret. He changed his entire identity to try and run from his past, but no matter how far he goes or what he does, his past still haunts him. Background: In the current day of the current year, technology and science has uplifted various races to heavens above and the cosmos beyond. One might think that humanity no longer needs to fear the dark, but not all mysteries of the universe have been unveiled. There are still monsters hiding under your bed and in your closet. They are just out of sight. They are just beyond your knowledge and understanding. They are farther than you would know, but closer than you would hope. As a young man, he lived a simple and peaceful life. He always wanted to see the stars, wondering what might be out there. He never guessed he would discover such horror. When he came of age, he took the simplest, easiest path off world. He got an entry position on an interstellar transport vessel as a deckhand. He was a glorified stuff mover. His job was just to move boxes. Boxes, boxes, and more boxes. To pass the time he joined an informal boxing group the crew had formed among the lower decks. Every seventh day of the week the group would gather around and knock each other's heads off, bet on the matches, laugh, cheer, and get drunk. The rest of the week, they worked their shift then trained for fight night. It was a pretty good life. One fateful day he was tasked to help load a very special box into the cargo hold. It looked like a box like any other, but there was only one and it wasn't particularly big. Maybe about as big as a person. No larger. Not only that, but the cargo hold was also locked down with restricted access measures put in place. He and the other deckhands were only allowed in to put the box down before being locked out. No one really paid too much attention when things on the ship started to get weird. Even when crew members began to report strange happenings. The feeling of being watched? Of course, you feel that way, we live in tight quarters with a lot of people. Privacy is a luxury. Strange chills? Must be the controlled climate on the fritz again. Nightmares? You're just stressed due to all the overtime. Then someone was found brutally murdered. Suddenly, everyone was on high alert. No one knew what happened or why. A careful review on the cameras revealed that there was a stowaway on board. Fearing what might happen if the crew neglected their duties while dealing with this emergency, the captain ordered the ship to drop out of drift travel until the culprit was found. However, a thorough search of the ship revealed no stowaway. The ship was searched again and again by the crew, but they couldn't find the culprit. Eventually, the captain ordered the ship to reengage drift travel so they could reach port and get help, but then the killings started again. One body. Two bodies. Then a third and the captain again ordered the ship to drop out of drift so the crew could focus on the search for the murderer. Yet again and again the searches turned up no culprit. They searched every vent and under every panel, while the cameras were watched. Somehow, the killer continued to elude them. Unsure of what to do, the captain decided to again renter the drift and try to make it to port, but nearly as soon they reentered the drift a ghostly visage appeared in the middle of the bridge. It took on a physical form and proceeded to slaughter everyone in the helm, including the captain. By the time the security team got to the bridge, the monster had moved on. It had made its way down to the lower decks and encountered a group of deckhands. They fled, but it managed to corner one. There was nowhere to run. The deckhand thought he'd be the next victim, but just as it was upon him it suddenly turned incorporeal and passed right through him and the wall behind him. As it passed through him, he felt an otherworldly chill like nothing he had experienced before. The deckhand used this moment to flee to safety. Seeing that there was no one capable of properly navigating through the drift, the security team decided to drop the ship out of the drift. Everyone had long been suspicious of the mysterious container the crew had in their cargo hold, but the captain had forbidden them from opening it. Now that he was dead, the security team agreed to pry the crate open only to find that it was mostly empty, save from a few datapad. After hacking into the datapad, the crew finally learned that the box originally contained something called a Driftdead inside of it. It was a corpse of a person who had died during drift travel with great anguish. Within the Drift, a driftdead has a physical body, but if removed from that plane, its physical body phases out of normal reality. However, the Driftdead is still supposed to be dangerous even if incorporeal. In fact, it should be even more so, due to its incorporeal abilities. The box was supposed to contain its incorporeal form, so it could be transported to a special research facility, but it failed. It didn't seem like it was operational. In fact, it appeared to have been damaged. It must have been damaged right after the cargo team loaded in and completed its final inspection but before they ship first entered the drift, but it had been securely locked down. The security team members were convinced that this was sabotage, but there was no time for answers at the moment. Now armed with this knowledge, the remaining crewmembers banded together and prepared to fight the creature. They decided they had to make it to the helm and renter the drift to force the creature into a physical body. However, the creature seemed to know or sense that they were onto it. It stopped hiding and attacked the crew in its horrific ghostly form. Many died and the rest were scattered. Their blasters were hurting it, but it wasn't as effective as they should be. That and physical attacks seemed to have no effect. The deckhand that survived the driftdead earlier was cornered once again. Furthermore, he was out of ammo. This time there would be no conveniently timed distraction. It was just him and the ghost, but this time it was different. The ghost had sustained heavy blaster fire. It seemed like it was hurt. He just needed some way to finish it off. He had seen people attack it with pipes and other weapons to no effect, but that didn't stop him. He gripped his hands into fists. "You think my fists are light? No. They are heavy. In these fists of mine, I carry my love for those I wish to protect..." he thought of all of the crew members who had died to this horrible monster. All of the others that might die if it wasn't stopped here. Including himself. "...my hatred for those who would harm them..." he thought of this horrific monster that threatened him. He thought of the careless research scientists who burdened them with this dangerous task without any warning or precautions. He thought of the mysterious saboteur that set this creature loose. "...and all of my passion!" by accepting both the love and hatred in his heart and denying himself neither, he achieved an inner balance. This was further fortified by his stubborn determination and hopeful courage. He grit his teeth, gripped his fists, and then struck at the shambling remains of the ghost. Somehow, against all logic and even the deckhand's own understanding of the creature, his fist connected. Again, and again, he drove his fists into the ghost, punching it to death- again. Somehow, he managed to win against the murderous creature. He wouldn't have survived if the security team hadn't greatly weakened it with their weapons. He was celebrated as a hero by those in the crew who remained, but somewhere among them was the saboteur. Things did not simply end there. The heroic deckhand wanted answers as to what had happened on that ship. However, answers did not come easily. He had to fight tooth and nail for even a crumb of intel. Red tape, threats, and even attacks from thugs made progress slow. He eventually found out that the entire incident was covered up. This was mainly facilitated by what appeared to be a shell corporation. He did his best to try and find out who was behind this, but every lead he tracked down only led him to mere rumors of what appeared to be a clandestine organization known only as [REDACTED]. Investigating [REDACTED] got the deckhand into a lot of trouble. He had to learn how to fight back and how to keep himself alive while dealing with [REDACTED] enforcers and agents, but it was all he could do just to survive against them. Thankfully, his near-death encounter with that driftdead seemed to have awakened something within him. He can manifest his will power in small ways. It's most powerful through the use of his body, but he is also slowly learning how to manifest his will beyond the reach of his physical form. He wasn't making any headway. He decided that if he wanted to beat them, he had to use their own tactics against them. He dropped off the grid, abandoning his old name and identity to lose their trail. He dealt with a shady criminal organization, spending the last of his life savings to buy a new identity. This was the creation of Regnart Seht. With a new identity, Seht managed to elude [REDACTED] for the moment. That being said, he is low on funds, has few connections, and even less leads. Even so, he remains resolved to one day expose them for their crimes. Not just what they did on that ship all those years ago, but everything their trying so desperately to hide. To do that, he needs to train his abilities, raise funds, and find allies. He decided to return to his old roots and become a deckhand, signing up with Evgeniya-Jaimisson. He has been assigned to BD514 where he plans to lay low, bide his time, and gather his strength. Secret Unknown to Seht: As the security team suspected, the containment failure was the result of purposeful sabotage. It was done to test the driftdead and gather data on how an unsuspecting crew would react to a haunting. It was all part of a [REDACTED] research project. The driftdead that Seht encountered was once a criminal sentenced to death. [REDACTED] acquired him as a test subject. He was one of many test subjects that were tortured to death on a special research ship during drift travel. Among the many test subjects, he was the only one that turned. However, he was contained before he could get his revenge. The scientists found him difficult to work with as the process had left him quite feral. They created a special ship with several decks that were specially shielded to contain him. They then let him loose among these decks and slowly began the process of training and testing him. They treated him like a wild animal, but even in this twisted state, he managed to learn. They taught him to hide from crews while incorporeal and to hunt them when physical during drift travel. Their goal was to weaponize the driftdead and unleash it on their enemies. The transport vessel that Seht encountered the driftdead was a simple field tests for this project. Since a single driftdead killed almost the entire crew of the transport vessel, it was considered somewhat of a success. Further, the anomaly of a single human male being able to strike the incorporeal driftdead with his bare hands was noted by the [REDACTED] saboteur that also survived the incident.

Okay. Let's give this a whirl

[Vital Data Summary] DESIGNATION: Series #20XX-B Mark VII NAME: Blue Seven RACE: Android FACSIMILE: Humanoid F-Type IDENTITY: Female CLASS: Technomancer ARCHETYPE: Racer / Data Jockey THEME: Ace Pilot ROLE: Pilot / Science Officer CONCEPT: Old Body, New Life BACKGROUND: Terraformer . [DESCRIPTION] As an android Blue is of ancient manufacture but remains eternally in the form of a young human woman of not quite twenty standard years. Most can identify her properly from the gleaming golden circuits of her eye units and the junctures at the back of her neck. Other circuit lines are prominent down her spine and on her extremities, while others activate when she is jacked into a system or using magic. Exceptionally athletic her body is lean and toned, though periodically marked by the occasional scar from injuries Blue does not remember. Though her body may be ancient Blue herself has just passed two years since her last renewal following a starship crash on the planet Entha and is still figuring out things about herself. Officially each android that undergoes renewal becomes a new person with a new soul but Blue and the iterations before her have always disagreed with this orthodox, viewing renewal as a regeneration of the soul that allows it to take on new perspectives. As such Blue feels uncommonly connected to her prior iterations, particularly the mistakes her immediate predecessor Six made that resulted in her death. Thus Blue has become a very serious, studious, and cautious person, detail oriented and rather happy to hide beneath the 'emotionless android' stereotype. Or at least on the surface. In the privacy of her own time and space she has several infosphere idents that are considerably more outgoing. While androids are born mature Blue is still young enough that much of the universe is a wonder to her and she enjoys trying and learning new things immensely. She has a deep love of music, an extensive collection, and is even a fair hand at it herself. And while Blue never laughs in public she is fast becoming infamous for her deadpan serious humor, routine noting that those who do not make the departure time will be incinerated by engine exhaust. [HISTORY] Blue is not her name. If the android who answers to it had a proper name it would be 20XX-B an unknown manufacturer number stamped into her hide centuries ago. Which manufacturer cannot be determined for while Blue herself is only two years old 20XX-B has a history running clear back to the Gap and has undergone the process of renewal seven times. She has been a free android, a slave, a revolutionary, a successful trader, a mercenary and more. Blue does not remember this directly, but each iteration of herself has kept a journal of their life to pass on to their descendants. Blue Seven's life so far has been strongly shaped by her immediate predecessor. An independent starship captain Six worked the scattered drift lanes of the Vast. Six filled the diary with planets and people they 'docked' with, from the Pact Worlds to the Azlanti Star Empire. Yet if Six had a passion for adventure and passionate living, she had rather less of a head for business. Not that running cargoes for people who needed them faster or to more dangerous locales wasn't lucrative, the repairs this entailed and Six's own propensity for cause trouble led to the ship slowly bleeding money. Repairs and maintenance were put off, then put off again, crew left and by the end only small not remained while Six had integrated herself into many systems to replace crew she could no longer afford to pay. Towards the end she took steady work hauling supplies to Entha for the EJ corporation, unglamorous work but slowly getting the ship in order. Until the day something went wrong in the upper atmosphere. Six went down with her ship and did not survive. Blue was born in the EJ corporate infirmary on Entha. Renewal is a complicated process for androids, ideally a voluntary process done in a safe setting and preceded by considerable preparation. In the aftermath of a starship crash was rather far from that. Many androids leave something for their successors and Six like the others before her had not been entirely remiss in this, yet there was also the matter of a lost starship and cargo undelivered. The insurance was current but between damages, depreciation, and assorted legal wrangling the young Blue had little left when it was all done. So Blue came to work for the EJ corporation terraforming operation on Entha until she could recertify certain credentials. Finally after two years she has the BD514 as her first real gig of her new life.

Theme: Class: Race: Ship Role: Pilot Name: Monduro Appearance Like any Kasatha Akari has four arms, he stands six foot tall and weighs around two hundred pounds. He has a sword strapped to his back, since as most of his people he preferred to fight with a more dependable weapon. That did not stop him having a laser pistol holstered on his hip. He wore armor that fit like a second skin. He also wore a scarf covering his mouth as his people did not show their mouth to other people even to eat or drink. Personality While he believed in the traditions of his people, he tended to enjoy the company of other races, and did not look down on them like many of his people did. He tended to use humor and sarcasm to interact with others. He can be a real asshole if someone rubs him the wrong way. He takes his role as a pilot very seriously, though he can be irreverent to people in authority. Background OLD HAND - Akari has been with the company ever since he left his families ship to begin his tempering. The tempering was meant as a rite of passage for all Kasatha for them to live life outside their clan for them to learn their own place in the universe. To hopefully realize that place is through the traditions of his people. Of course he joined the company soon after and just felt like another cog in the wheel. The only bright point in all of that was his unlikely friendship with the Brenneri Tarika. They looked out for each other, through many close calls that almost got one or the other of them fired. She would kick jobs his way when he was a bit short, and he would pull a double if it allowed her some time with her daughter.

The dice gods are usually not that kind. But I hope that this one will be alright. I'm considering an operative or a nanocyte. Array 1 Array 2 Array 3 Array 4 Array 5 Array 6

Name: Ancestry: Human-Borne Borai Homeworld: Diaspora Field of Expertise: Solarian Advanced Training Certificates: Market ResearchTheme: Opportunist Prior Work Experience: LogisticsGolden Parachute Piloting Training: No Managerial Experience: Yes* Fitness Test Performance: Str 18 Dex 17 Con 18 Int 13 Wis 10 Cha 18 Appearance Davir Karst is a sight not easily forgotten. With the tall, wiry frame of a career spacer, ruffled and unkempt sun-coloured hair, and pale skin, pockmarked with the dark tendrils of negative energy pulsing in his veins, it's clear to see that he's not quite an everyday cargo worker. It's rare that anyone staring into his eyes, orbs of dark orange, like that of an alien sun, keeps their gaze locked for too long. Dressed in loose workers clothing, unkempt and untidy, though belts and hoops are kept pristine. A half-grin, threading the needle between malicious and roguish, usually covers his parched lips. Personality Davir is an unrepentant talker, and his Diasporan spacer dialect is the first thing most notice, with its cosmonautical metaphors and its informal, familiarish tones. The spacer's cant yields itself just as easily negotiating down a seller as inspiring a shipmate or terrifying a station-sider with its guttural tones. He thinks himself more a talker and a doer than a man of violence, but 'a toolbox without a hammer is no toolbox at all', after all. Perhaps ironically, perhaps not, given his situation, he's prone to enjoy too many of the values of life, be they as mundane as a head-splitting shoreleave or a first glance at a new sun. He's not prone to philosophics or metaphysical insights. While he'd be the first to admit he's no saint, and be more than happy to prove it, he still sticks to a certain code of ethics no sane spacer would dare break. Backstory It was supposed to be easy, but that's what they always say. First step, convince Sinjin. Was a piece of pie, with the blowback from Akiton and especially after the Triaxus job - it was one favour too many, and two close calls too short. Assurances were given, change name, face, lie low for at least a year. Wasn't a tough sell, not at all. Second step, finish the Eox run. The rad-hole was bad enough in most places, but Remembrance Rock was surprisingly calm. One place on the fossil that doesn't have the dead try and claw your eyes out. Residents of the crypts won't even try and pawn you a used necrograft. Easy landing, little drillwork, and a lot of backbreaking work. Most unnerving part about the old crypt was that the dead did not start walking. Well - second most. The first was probably the writings on the wall, but chains, skulls and dark suns are probably as Eoxian as they come. Wanting to get out sure made carrying the sarcophagus a lot easier. Third step was the tricky one - convince the client to accept a stowaway. They didn't look the most talkative, what with the wraps and chains and the whole skull motif, but the chemical-smelling ship had an atmosphere, and the crew looked like it ate and breathed. A little gold star - those are good things to do, and staying in the League cut the potential time of doing those activities pretty short. Step four was supposed to orbit myself on the ship, drop off at a dwarf mining station, pay double lodging fees for discretion and leave on a resupply ship to anywhere. Find a way to the Rock, sign up with a crew, failing that, get a "sales" job for Apostae - they love their human faces, we can go anywhere - or even, Hells, go learn basket nanoweaving and eat dirt with the lashunta on Castrovel. Free air, real trees, and staying out of the big city states. Pact Worlds are big, and plenty of places for me to go. Just need to finish this course. Doesn't surprise me that we're flying driftless, the crew don't scan as the civilised types, but console says that they're flying in the Diaspora. They gather twice a cycle to do some chanting in the cantina, words sticking in my head hours after. Bunking in the cargo bay is standard fare for me, but my sight gravitates towards the sarcophagus a lot. Seems ancient. Dark etchings of constellations on the marble. Orange light flickers through the stars every so often. If I sit near the cargo mesh near the doors, between it and the power core, the core seems quieter, like it's dulling the sound. You'd think that makes it easier to sleep. Pilot says we'll be there in a couple cycles, so that's a relief. I take my head down to sleep - despite everything, this is great for me catching up on that. And, of course, alarms sound up, and I hear the sounds of shields hum up. Heart skips a beat, but if it's the League they'd at least let the captain turn me in first. Relaxing for a moment, before the ship shakes under a barrage. I grip the cargo mesh, as the piddly ship tries to evade. Judging by the shots, badly. The ship shakes and the gravity disappears as we spin. There's a crash of torn metal as I duck down, a chunk of asteroid tearing through the cargo bay from the front of the ship at murderous speeds, the whooshing sounds of the atmosphere leaving the hush fading away to nothingness. My helmet flies past and at the last second, I manage to grab it. Lucky break. I strap in, unable to take my eyes off the tear in the bulkhead. Four vessels. Three fighters, one corvette. Blazing orange - as are their lasers. The lightshow has stopped, and they seem to be closing in. My heart starts slowing down - Sarenites believe in redemption, right? Just someone who fell on the wrong path, trying to get out. Burn some sublight at them, about being a sympathetic guy in a bad situation. Not even entirely lying. The ships close faster and move away from the impromptu viewing port. Not the escape I was planning. I reach to put my laser pistol on the mesh - won't do me much good right now - and I see a body floating through the port, outside. One of the clients, except without her mask on. Vacuum-shot eyes, frozen in surprise. A lashunta, but her face is covered in tattoos under the thin layer of ice as the corpse drifts out into the nothingness - constellations etched in black. A light turns on in the depowered bay and I turn to look at it. The sarcophagus. Its own constellations have turned blinding blue-white. My rad-scanner sends a warning. A small cloud of dust breaks away from it as I bite my teeth, then the door cracks open. A bony claw grips the side of the sarcophagus. Black metal covers the fingers. Black holes dance on the armour, bound together by black chains, the coronas' contrast filling in the gaps and sucking in my sight. A tattered, wispy ceremonial robe the colour of starless sky covers the spacesuit. The head, a black metal skull turns slowly, its eyes four all-consuming orbs, not paying me any consideration. The lights of the engines coming through the holes in the bulkhead shine inside and I feel a coldness radiate. The being's right hand stretches down. Chains unfurl, topped in a black hole each, the light on the accretion disks seemingly sharp enough to cleave an atom. It stares at the cargo bay door, and the black hole flailheads begin to orbit around each other. It braces, and then launches itself through the door. The velocity is such that I feel my mesh straps break, and my orbit joins its - for a brief moment before mine leads into the bulkhead, and darkness follows. I wake up to a lightshow of alarms. The oxygen is depleting. Heating dangerously low. My leg informs me that it's broken. The quietness is overbearing as I make my way down from the upturned floor. A glance through the completely gone cargo door paints a picture in my head - the debris of roughly three ships. Streams of frozen blood drift aimlessly from bodies that look like they've suffered explosive decompression. Panic sets in. I leave the dead be, for once, and get to the cantina. Torn by lasers. The ship didn't have escape pods, of course. Bulkheads were sheared. The bridge is no better, a laser barrage has torn through the viewing port and melted the pilot into his chair. The distress beacon, however, is unharmed. A nervous ping begins echoing in my comms, and I take a breather - just in time for the alarm to remind me there's a quarter hour remaining. Prying open the shot-up door of life support confirms that the system is gone - hard for it to work with half the room torn by an asteroid - but the oxygen recycler has sputtered out a pair of bottles before dying. If only there was someone to help me swap. Don't even know why I came here in the first place. I plug my heater into the emergency power supply, and some warmth graces my bones. Another deep sigh. Born in the Diaspora, died in the Diaspora. Sinjin is a man of his word - he says someone went out an airlock, he went out an airlock. At least I didn't make him a liar. I chuckle at that, the Sun shining bright through the belt. Suns and stars, stars and suns, they all die in the end. Stars die. An idea crawls in my head, as I grab the two bottles. I can't swap them, and there's nowhere on the ship that can sustain an atmosphere. Except for one of them. Biting my lips, I rush to the cargo bay. The sarcophagus, its metallic sheen and open door sits open. The constellations are black and void once more, as I throw the two bottles inside. Inside, trails of black comets, chains and solar winds are visible. It still feels quieter than the absolute quiet outside. Despite that, it is the most inviting place in here. I bite my lip and jump in. I fumble for a moment as I find a bulbous button on the lid and it begins closing. It's just like an escape pod, I whisper to myself, opening one of the bottles as the lid slams shut. A welcome hiss begins filling the void mere minutes later, as I feel adrenaline recede and pain flood my body back once again. Stars, pale and white, fill the inside of the sarcophagus, the warmth of the heater slowly receding to an unnatural cold. The stars dull and blur. I wake up as the lid hisses open. It's cold, and the pleasant white of the stars fades open to unnatural halogen lamps, the hum of an engine, and the smell of starfarers. Two men, a dwarf and a vesk, dressed in cargo coveralls are staring down at me, one holding an electric prod. "Welcome back to the land of the living!"

Duncan (He/Him) [ Race: Human Theme: Athlete (Strength) Class: Soldier (Powered Armor Jockey) Ability Scores STR: 14 DEX: 18 CON: 17 INT: 13 WIS: 14 CHA: 15 HP: 11 Stamina: 10 Resolve: 3 ―Feats― Human Skilled Bonus Feat: Hauler Theme Theme Knowledge Soldier Fighting Style: Blitz Rapid Response Feat Weapon Focus (Advanced Melee ―Background― Duncan was an orphaned boy who went from foster home to foster home, constantly getting into fights and other bad behavior thanks to his size and fitness. He was always athletic but as he went through schooling his skills got him noticed and he got him a lucrative contract as a player. Things were going great for his career until a knee injury sidelined the star player, effectively ending his time in the spotlight. Life has been hard since then, and Duncan has been down on his luck for a long time. However, he still has a few friends from the old days when he had credits to burn. One of those friends is a Brenneri named Tarika; they had a lot of good times together, but she dropped out of his social scene to raise her daughter. Things went downhill for him after that. A few weeks ago, Duncan was squatting in Downside when he ran into Tarika and she recognized him. She put in a good word with the Company and got him this job as a result. ―Personality― Duncan has that dopey grin and easy attitude that endears him to many and makes him appear as a target to those with less scruples. He is a very loyal if not naive man and will do his best to look out for those he is with, just like his teammates. ―Appearance― He is a big man with an imposing build. His skin is generally pale with short brown hair in a faux hawk. He has a tattoo on his left side from his collarbone up to just below his ear. He walks with a slight limp on his right side. ―Skills― (unlisted = unranked) Athletics 1 Diplomacy 1 Engineering 1 Intimidate 1 Profession: General Contractor 1 Profession: Maintenance Worker 1

"We are glad to make your acquaintance." Race Android (Laborer +2 Str / +2 Con / -2 Cha) - Union is a singular being composed of numerous AI biosynthetic, hivemind nanobots operating in unison under a unique machine-learning algorithm that makes him particularly adaptable to a multitude of situations. Class Nanocyte (Augmented Archetype) - Union has the ability to incorporate body augmentations more efficiently into his unique construct. Theme Biotechnicican - (+1 INT) Union excels in knowledge of bioengineering and its applications in medicine. Skills and Abilities Ability Scores (+2 STR/CON) (+1 INT) (-2CHA) STR DEX CON INT WIS CHA 14 15 18 16 14 10 Key Skills Medicine 10 Culture 10 Life Science 7 Physical Science 7 Computers 7 Engineering 7 Perception 6 Stealth 6 Crew Position and Combat Role Science Officer / Biotechnician / Medic / Librarian - Union can provide excellent support for many roles both in and out of the field. He excels as a combat medic and defensive warfare & artillery specialist. His greatest strength is his adaptability. Appearance Union most often appears to be a featureless, opaque human-shaped figure, but his appearance often flutters and fluctuates at a moment's notice. This happens more often when he speaks, sometimes painting generic visual representations of emotions across his face. When deep in thought, nanobot fluctuations will often ripple over his features and when he sleeps, his entire form often discorporates involuntarily, distorting his whole body in bizarre ways. When he speaks, his voice has the eerie quality of sounding like many voices in unison. Union prefers the most simple and sleek of attire and usually wears light armor unless the situation calls for something otherwise. Union is the epitome of a minimalist. He usually carries only the barest assortment of essential weapons and tools, not already incorporated into his form, preferring instead to rely on his unique construct to produce whatever he needs in a given situation. Personality Union always refers to himself in the plural "We". Union is only twelve years old. So, needless to say, he hasn't had a lot of life experience. Some might even call him naive for a genius autodidact bio-supercomputer. Union is a highly logical being with little capacity for emotional intelligence, which lends to a rather dry personality. He realizes this and over-compensates for the character flaw with often ill-timed humor and a constantly fluctuating and exaggerated persona that, more often than not, only serves to confuse people. Mostly though, he is utterly blunt and straightforward in both thought and speech, as androids tend to be, as well as highly efficient in most ways in general. Union is highly curious and knowledgeable on most intellectual subjects, except for those pertaining to magic and mysticism, on which he finds it utterly confounding to spend any time at all in contemplation. Union can be frustratingly optimistic at times to those around him, partly because he can do remedial tasks for hours on end, thinks 5% probabilities are pretty darned good, considering all things, and that death shouldn't be considered such a major setback. Background OLD HAND - 100% of Union's life has been spent under the employment of EJ Corp, which acquired him at birth. Of course, Android ownership is no longer strictly legal, but the lines of ethical employment are often muddled by confounding litigation that more often than not extends beyond the terms of an entity's contract anyway, and so is often overlooked. Such is the case with Union, who is now twelve years into a twenty-year contract to pay off the debt of his construction. For most people, this type of legal bondage would be hard on one's mind, but not for Union. His awareness of time is different than for most on account of Androids having indefinite lifespans and not aging like purely organic beings. Union has spent most of his life's non-working hours studying and researching a variety of topics upon which he has an insatiable curiosity. That being said, he owns no books, preferring to check books out from the library. His quarters are impeccably tidy and minimalist. Union is a being of steely routine. His favorite restaurant is a Brenneri diner not far from his studio that serves mostly fish and, at which, he can be found every evening from 17:00 to 17:50 local time. Union has never been late to work nor ever missed a day. He reads for one hour before bed and falls asleep every night at 22:00 on the nose. Most of Union's coworkers find his nonchalant attitude about long and tedious working hours to be annoying, except for one Brenneri named Tarika, another long-time employee, for whom Union has a special fondness on account of her predilection for laughing at his jokes and seemingly sincere enjoyment of his company. Union has repaid her many times over for her affection by covering for her at work on numerous occasions and even convincing a foreman not to fire her twice. He doesn't mind if Tarika takes advantage of him for his kindness. He's just glad to have a friend.

Well, let's give this a whirl.

Class: Operative (Heavyweight Skirmisher, Bully) Archetype: Augmented Ancestry: Human Background: Mine Collapse Gender: Male Age: 25-30...ish Combat Role: Melee Striker Ship Roles: Chief Mate, secondary captain Skill Roles: Physical, wisdom-based, secondary social A strong hand, an even temper, true honor, such things need never fear obsolescence. Backstory "We got another one! Bring the temporal agitator over!" "Easy... easy, keep the power low." "'E's a big bastard, Too bad all that plate didn't do shit against magic." Light, warmth. Willem vaguely became aware, drawing a mind scattered by untold centuries of stillness into a coherent point. Light became colors, colors became shapes, shapes became figures with strange, alien faces. Bugging eyes that glowed with some sort of infernal inner light, strange complex mouthparts with gatelike teeth and hanging ribbed tubes, ugly rubbery hides. Willem must have been dragged to Hell by the witch's fell magics! He tried to struggle, to pull free of the hands hauling him from his resting place but his muscles were sluggish and feeble. "Nethys' nickers, get that damn sword out of his hand!" "I'm tryin'. He's got a grip like a vise." The sword! He could not let them take the sword. It was all he had left of his lady after the witch had turned her to ash. He clutched it fiercely, clutched it like a drowning man to the sole spar of wood in leagues of open water. He tried to hold on, to stay awake, but he could feel himself fading yet again, consciousness ebbing back to darkness. No! He could not drift off again. He had to rally! To get back! He had to find the others, gather forces anew. He had to... had to... "William...Shallot?" "'Chalice', it's 'Chalice'," Willem muttered to himself as he stepped up to the counter, arms full of the papers, cards, glossy tablet, toiletries, and plastic wrapped taupe jumpsuits he had been issued. Each one had been another few credits upon the staggering debt he owed to the Lazarine Corporation, drops in an ocean. Willem had not even been aware that numbers went that high. The only thing he had that was truly his was the sword, and it was locked inside a clear plastic case. Even retaining that much had been an additional cost. The counter was too small for him to lay his burdens down and the disinterested insect person behind it looked like they might disintegrate him with a glare if he dared to even try. "Let's see, William Shall-" "Willem Chalice." "Hmm, quite. Recovered from the... witch Iteleth's hoard at archeological site 55-413-D? Your debt has been sold to the Evgeniya-Jaimisson Corporation." The clerk printed off yet another stack of papers and placed them atop the messy collection of items in Willem's arms. "You're expected to report to their local office within twenty-four hours. We have a complementary bus service to their offices that leaves in... five minutes." "Shallot! Get yer ass back on the ship!" Hands were gripping the front of Willem's hardsuit. He was vaguely aware that they belonged to his supervisor, the man's face was a mask of fury through the smoke billowing out from deeper in the mine. "They set off a godsdamn thasteron vein! The whole place is liable to collapse!" Willem was not so noble as to deny he got a certain amount of satisfaction from simply shoving the other man away and sending him ass over teakettle onto the ruddy red stone of Akiton. Thus unimpeded, Willem reached down to grab the case of emergency oxygen tanks, he turned into the tide of bodies trying to escape the disaster. "Be'st they the fires of Hell or the dread winds of Abaddon, I am sworn to stand." "Shallot! You sonuvabitch! You're a stevedore, a walking forklift! What the Hell do you think you can do!?" Willem paid the shouting man no heed as he sprinted into the mine. He would have thought the answer was patently obvious. He was going to do whatever he could. A burning mine was no great dragon or cruel winter witch but danger was danger all the same. Personality A man out of time, of the many fates Sir Willem Chalice had once imagined for himself as a squire, this was certainly not one of them. To say he has had to adapt to the new circumstances of being frozen in some witch's extraplanar keep, getting thawed out untold centuries later and ending up as all but an indentured servant to a system-spanning corporation would be an incredible understatement. It is a tall order, to be certain, and only Willem's bloody-minded persistence has kept him from fully cracking under the pressure. Given time to come to terms with his new reality, Willem is stubbornly old fashioned in some ways but, thankfully, not others. While he might never really get good at using a computer terminal, he has tried to keep an open mind and take the universe as it comes. Largely, he has been rewarded for this outlook. There is so much in the Pact Worlds and beyond that seem frustratingly mundane to everyone else but would have been nothing less than a miracle back in his own time. Beyond a miracle even. Someday the shine of spaceflight or meeting new aliens or incredible stories told as full sensory experiences might wear thin for him, but that is a distant day indeed. Then there are the times when a bit of old-fashioned sensibilities would be useful. The universe might be a more cynical place, but honor and virtue stand the test of time, even if they are now unfashionable. Appearance Willem is not built for a soft life. He may have had a modicum of status in his old life but he was not highly ranked enough to truly enjoy those privileges. His build is that of a soldier, used to hauling heavy armor and taking blows before repaying them in kind. He lived in a time before cosmetic treatments for scars or even commonly available rapid healing and his hard living has left a tapestry of scars on his body from countless little wounds. He has taken to the improved hygiene standards of the modern day with vigor, relishing the feeling of frequently being clean and not hating the taste of his own mouth. His sense of personal style can be charitably described as 'functional' as he usually settles for simply shaving himself clean once his hair and beard reach a certain length and he typically wears either his crew uniform or the functional and cheap jumpsuits that are commonplace in most fuel stations and shipping depots.

Jin (he/him) Brenneri Mechanic Race: Brenneri Theme: Themeless (+INT, Sense Motive) Class: Mechanic STR 14 (+2) DEX 16 (+3) CON 16 (+3) INT 16 (+3) WIS 14 (+2) CHA 10 (+0) 10 HP 9 Stamina 4 Resolve Saves +5 Fort +5 Ref +2 Will ―Race Features― Darkvision 60ft AstuteBrenneris gain a +2 racial bonus to Diplomacy and Sense Motive checks. Favored ObjectA brenneri can designate any object they own of negligible bulk as a favored object. Once per day, when a brenneri spends a Resolve Point and takes a 10 minute rest to regain Stamina Points, they can focus on a favored object during the rest and recover Hit Points equal to half their level (minimum 1). Hold BreathBrenneris can hold their breath for 10 minutes, and taking actions does not reduce this duration SwimmerBrenneris have a swim speed of 20 feet. ―Feats and Class Features― Theme Features: General KnowledgeYou gain a class skill of your choice when you create a themeless character. Also, you gain an ability adjustment of +1 to any ability score you choose., CertaintyStarting at 6th level, once per day before you roll a skill check, you can gain a +2 bonus to that skill for that check., Extensive StudiesAt 12th level, choose a skill that is a class skill for you. Once per day, you can reroll one such skill check before learning the results of the roll. You must take the second result, even if it is worse., Steely DeterminationAt 18th level, increase your pool of Resolve Points by 1. Artificial IntelligenceYou construct an artificial intelligence (or AI), a sophisticated program of self-motivated code that you can access for help in a variety of endeavors. This AI is the product of your own genius, far more advanced and complicated than any available for sale to consumers (though it falls short of being truly self-aware), and only you know the secrets of its creation and operation. Your AI can take one of two forms: a drone or an exocortex. You must pick one of these forms upon taking your first level of mechanic, and once this choice is made, it cannot be changed. - BypassYou are skilled at getting inside computer systems and electronic devices. At 1st level, you gain a +1 insight bonus to Computers and Engineering skill checks. At 5th level, every 4 levels thereafter, and at 20th level, this bonus increases by 1. Custom RigYou have created a customized toolkit you can use to hack systems and items. Your custom rig can be configured to take up an upgrade slot on your armor or can be installed as a cybernetic augmentation system in your brain (though it can be combined with a datajack for the same price as installing a datajack normally), your eyes, or an arm. For more information on augmentations, see Chapter 7: Equipment. Alternatively, you can configure it to be a handheld device, meaning that you must retrieve it and hold it to use it effectively. While using this rig, you always count as having the appropriate tool or basic kit for any Computers or Engineering skill check you attempt. Some mechanic tricks (see page 71) and drone mods (see page 77) require the use of a custom rig. In addition, you can use your custom rig as a personal comm unit (see page 218). Finally, if you have a drone, you can use your custom rig to communicate over an encrypted channel with your drone to issue commands to its AI or directly control it at a range of 2,500 feet. If your custom rig is damaged, destroyed, lost, or stolen, you can kitbash a new one from any engineering kit, hacking kit, or other technological toolkit, reconfiguring the materials into a new custom rig with 1 hour of work. You can have only one custom rig at a time. If you create a new custom rig, your old one functions as a normal toolkit of whatever type you made it from and can no longer be used with your mechanic tricks. Weapon FocusChose one weapon type (small arms, longarms, heavy weapons, etc.). You gain a +1 bonus to attack rolls with that weapon type. If your base attack bonus is at least 3 lower than your character level (or your mechanic’s class level, if you are a drone), you gain a +2 bonus instead. (Small Arms) ―Items― Starting Wealth: 1500 cr 260 cr (mounted on Whiskey) 350 cr 250 cr Unspent Wealth: 640 cr ―Background― Jin and Shan worked together at an AbadarCorp factory. Being the only two brenneri there, they quickly hit it off, and they got married shortly before the unionization effort started. Shan was the face of the union, while Jin handled infosec and bookkeeping. He also used his technical skills to dig up dirt, which inevitably earned him some unwanted attention. When the union-busters came, they came down hard on Jin. He lost an eye and lost contact with Shan. Now that he works for EJ, he's trying to bounce back, but it's not gonna be easy. ―Appearance― Jin has a cybernetic eye and is quite dour for a brenneri, dressing in dark colors and rarely smiling. He carries a laser pistol and a variety of tools for working with electronics, and he is almost always accompanied by his drone. "Whiskey" looks like almost any other industrial drone, but it is actually quite agile and has a pistol hidden in its chassis. (more to be added?) ―Personality― Jin has been through a lot, but he almost never thinks about himself - he spends most of his time thinking about Shan and trying to re-establish contact with her, but so far, it's been to no avail. At this point, he's starting to lose hope and is just going through the motions of daily life. As a result, he can be a bit cold to his teammates. But, in truth, his conscience is still there - it's just buried under his trauma. (more to be added?) ―Skills― (unlisted = untrained) Computers 1 rank (+1 from Bypass) Engineering 1 rank (+1 from Bypass) Medicine 1 rank Perception 1 rank Phys. Science 1 rank Profession (IT) 1 rank Sense Motive 1 rank (+2 from Astute) Whiskey Hover Drone Feats and Features: Initial ModsEach chassis comes with initial drone mods that are a part of the chassis itself. These are in addition to the mods a drone gains by level. You can’t change these mods when you gain levels or rebuild your drone unless you choose a new chassis. ― x2 ― Basic ModsYou can choose any of the mods on the basic mod list whenever your drone gains a new mod. Unless otherwise specified, you cannot install a single mod more than once. The list of basic mods appears starting on page 77. ― Limited AIEach round on your turn, after you have acted, your drone can take either a move action or a standard action to attack (your drone doesn’t make a separate initiative roll). You must be able to issue simple commands to your drone, but you don’t have to spend actions to issue these commands. To receive these commands, your drone must be able to see or hear you or be within range of your custom rig. If you become unconscious or otherwise unresponsive, or if your drone is ever out of range, your drone cannot take any actions until you are again able to command it or it is once more within range. Master ControlAs a move action, you can directly control your drone. This allows the drone to take both a move action and any standard action this turn (one from your control, and one from its limited AI). If you also take a swift action, your drone can take a swift action as well, or it can combine its actions into a full action. Your drone must be able to see or hear you, or be within range of your custom rig, for you to directly control your drone. Skill UnitChoose one of the following skills: Acrobatics, Athletics, Computers, Engineering, Perception, or Stealth. This is a class skill for your drone, and it gains a number of ranks in the chosen skill equal to your class level. Your drone can use this skill when not under your direct control. You can change your drone’s skill unit whenever you rebuild your drone from scratch. Additionally, whenever you are directly controlling your drone, it can use any of your skill ranks if you wish, assuming it has the appropriate tools to do so (a drone without manipulator arms cannot use Engineering to disable a device, for example). (Stealth) Skill FocusChoose a skill. You gain a +3 insight bonus to checks involving the chosen skill. (Stealth) Bonus Skill UnitSome chassis come programmed with knowledge of a skill that is a part of the chassis itself. This skill is a class skill for your drone, and it gains a number of ranks in that skill equal to your mechanic level. Your drone can use this skill while not under your direct control. This skill is in addition to the skill gained via the drone’s skill unit ability (see page 76). You can’t change this skill unit when you gain levels or when you rebuild your drone unless you choose a new chassis. If a chassis does not have a bonus skill unit entry, it gains no bonus skill units. (Acrobatics) Small Arm ProficiencyYou gain proficiency in small arms. In lieu of having an actual child, Jin and Shan built a drone together. However, the drone wasn't finished or named until after Jin and Shan were separated. If he ever finds her again, he hopes she can forgive the silly name. ―Skills― (unlisted = untrained) Acrobatics 1 rank Stealth 1 rank (+3 from Skill Focus)

Name: Raven Character Concept: When Raven emerged from the Mist, not only had she changed but something came along with her. Race, Background, Subclass Class: Variant Human. Haunted One: Feature, Spirit Medium. Sorcerer: Shadow Magic. Description: Show this Raven isn’t peculiarly tall, standing at about 5’1”. What she lacks in height she makes up in her looks. The taint of Shadow and the touch of Death give an off-putting feel and look about her. Her eyes are a bright blue with pupils that are dilated and unresponsive to light and her light brown skin is icy cold to the touch. Her long hair is jet black with an unkempt look to it. When she is in low light or darkened areas, she casts a faint shadow behind her as if she is still in some kind of lighted area. It seems like this shadow never leaves her. And when her skin is cut, she barely bleeds, sometimes not at all. Raven loves wearing dark leather clothing with loose flowing pieces that flutter in the slightest breeze and wears her hair long and unrestrained, adding to the flair of her looks and hopefully turn some heads her way. Her leather outfits and some of her jewelry have spikes imbedded in them, hinting at the dangerous side of her. The ‘look but don’t touch’ is a clear message Raven is sending out to those who think otherwise. Raven is a very confident person, both in herself and who she has become and fully embraces her new life. Friendly, outgoing, sometimes flamboyant, Raven enjoys life and all it has to offer and the attention her looks get her. She also enjoys the company of others and likes getting to know the people around her. When Raven walks, it with her head held high while her steps are measured and with purpose. She also firmly believes that the spirits she consults are people that have died in the Mist who are there to do her bidding. One in particular, simply known as 'the Vizier' is her main spirit she communicates with. Origin: Possibility Faerun Your Character’s Plothook: Past is Prologue: [Backstory] Show this When the traveling domain knows as The Carnival passed through her hometown, Raven had dreams of traveling and seeing the world and this was the perfect opportunity to do so. She quickly joined The Carnival, but things didn't quite turn out the way she expected. It was during her time with The Carnival that her ability to talk to spirits began to awaken. With help and advice from the Carnival staff, Raven accepted and fully embraced her new talent. However, staff members won't the only ones who noticed this. Something else did too. One late night, Raven heard a voice coming from the Mist. It spoke to her, the soft voice seemed musical and soothing. A wave of euphoria swept over her as she walked towards it, and when she entered the Mist, all she could see was a shadowy figure, sometimes there, sometimes not. “I’ve been watching you. Those who do are unique I take special interest in. In your case, it’s your ability to communicate with the spirits that awakened after you joined The Carnival. I believe that the spirts are those who have died in the Mists. For some reason they are attracted to you. A rare gift that needs to be nurtured and allowed to grow. However…..” ” You lack the experience needed to become my special…..pet. If you accept my help, I will make sure that you will learn what you need to know. Do you accept my help, my teachings, and the start of a new life, my dear?” ” I accept your offer.’ Raven's voice sounded distance, almost like she was in a dream, but she knew this wasn’t a dream. And for some reason she felt compelled to take the offer. ” I’m glade. And now, before you start your training, we seal the deal with these.” She blacked out but. When she woke up, she wasn’t at The Carnival anymore. It was…..Hell….? No....Was this where her training to take place? She felt fine, but there where changes in her. She now possessed knowledge of things she didn’t know before and felt a power coursing through her body that she never felt before. On her left hand, on the finger where wedding rings go was a copper band with 'Mine' engraved in it. In her right hand was a deck of strange looking cards. And now there were gaps in Raven's memories. She clearly remembers her time with The Carnival and the deal she made with the shadow figure. But her time before The Carnival is vague, hazy or missing. She knows she had a home but doesn't remember where it was. She knows she has parents and siblings but can't remember them. But piecing together her past life can wait. For now, she just had to survive the Hell known as Falkovnia and hopefully figure out what the shadow figure really wants from her. Until then, Raven now fully embraces her new life and fully enjoys what she has now become. Truths, Rumors, and Lies: [True Rumor] Raven's ability to read cards can be both fun and sometimes a little scary. [False Rumor] Raven is a charlatan and scam artist. She takes people's money and pretends to speak to the persons dead relatives. She tells them what they want to hear and gives them false hope. That way they keep coming back to her so that she can take their money again. [False Rumor] Raven gains her powers by eating the flesh of both the dead and the undead. Fears and Failures: 1. Fear. What the ring on her finger actually represents. When she agreed to accept the shadow figures offer, did she become betrothed to it too? Does it symbolize her contract to it? Both? Or something completely different? 2. Fear. Raven is afraid that someday the spirits won't answer her anymore. She believes if this happens, her identity, who she is, will be gone. She doesn't know what to do or how to handle it if this ever happens. Details: Include at least two of the following in your application: Music: This song is the inspiration for my character. Eivør - Into The Mist (Official Video) English version Eivør - Í Tokuni (Official Music Video) Original version Images: Raven's shadow that never goes away. Possibility the Vizier? The shadow figure in the Mist. Possibility the Vizier? The deck she was given. The ring with 'Mine' on it.

Accessing Infosphere... .... .... NAME: GENDER: FEMALE (SHE/HER) ANCESTRY: DROW ALIGNMENT: CHAOTIC NEUTRAL DEITY: DESNA CLASS: ENVOY THEME: ICON ARCHETYPE: STARSINGER (or Medic) AGE: 109 HEIGHT: 6'3" HOMEWORLD: APOSTAE BACKGROUND: TERRAFORMER OCCUPATION: - SOCIAL MEDIA INFLUENCER - EJ CORP (MARKETING / HAULING) STATISTICS: STR: 13 | DEX: 18 | CON: 15 INT: 17 | WIS: 15 | CHA: 18 FAVORED SKILLS: DEX (Acrobatics, Sleight of Hand, Stealth) INT (Culture, Medicine) WIS (Perception, Sense Motive) CHA (Bluff, Diplomacy) SHIP ROLE: (Order of effectiveness) Captain > Chief Mate/Pilot > Science Officer GROUND ROLE: Harrying Fire, Cover Fire, Feint, Stamina Healer ....LOADING... "Hello Mother... Yes... Yeah.... Listen, I just need to say this— I don't want a business degree..." The reaction was as she expected... maybe worse than she expected. Raenala, was heiress to a large fortune nurtured on the success of her House's exploits in Munitions Manufacturing. Zeizerer Munitions. Who earned their claim to fame by playing off the xenophobia of the pact worlds and finding a 'palatable' alternative solution to the age problem, of everyone suddenly having a conscious when it comes to buying weapons of war from the Drow of Apostae. Simply sell them the bullets instead of the gun. House Zeizerer was built on subtly, on careful words, and protracted gambits. So, when she called her mother after months of avoiding it and told her she didn't want to be a suit. That she longed for a creative career in arts, sharing the wonders of the universe with millions across the Pact infospheres. Centered directly in the spotlight, with a solar system of attention upon her. Her mother laughed. Told her to come home and stopped Raenala's weekly allowance. Bills ate through her savings quick, and before she knew it, she was behind on rent with eviction notices spammed into her mail accounts. But mixed into all that doom and gloom was a glimmer of hope. An offer from EJ Corp. Room and board and a chance to see far off wonders in the Vast of the galaxy. Raenala took it, she was desperate, a week away from homelessness without prospect of anything to stop that short of groveling to her mother. That was ten years ago. In the years since Raenala has turned from the heiress she was raised to an honest member of the working class. Certified in industrial EVA. Her days were spent out in space, toiling away in the vacuum, performing repair and assembly on satellites. It was beautiful work, high above Entha— A ocean world, with a depth so deep and dark. It was as if you stared down into the Plane of Shadow. Raenala found a way to express herself, she turned her daily life into videos. Detailing a glamorous, simple, cheerful life far away from the Pact worlds. Working for EJ Corp, shaping a planet into something habitable for thousands of years to come. Management caught wind of her videos and brought her into the formal marketing team for Entha's colonization. Of course, this came with too small of a pay raise and doubling of her workload. Stress snapped at her edges, leaving her tattered. Between her labors in space, the videos for her social media accounts, and the marketing deadlines she constantly had to meet. Raenala barely even had time to breathe out in that vacuum of space. There were days where she wanted nothing more than to leave. EJ Corp and her dream, that had been sucked dry of passion under the weight of underpaid labor. Made only worse by her garnished wage to repay the back-rent at her old luxury apartment. It was only three months' rent, but at the wages she worked now, it'd take years to fully pay off. For the latter years of her assignment on Entha, she only felt a haze. Broken up by moments of stress as safety systems failed, and people found themselves injured or worse. Raenala was always lucky, and when she wasn't lucky she had Shan. A brenneri woman who worked a labor foreman. While the safety department only tried to cover up the company's violations, Shan actually worked to keep her workers protected. Going so far as to cover for them when they couldn't operate at 100%. Raenala leaned on her more than once, countless times even. It was bittersweet to leave her. A new assignment came through for Raenala. It was a lateral move in pay, but it was a safer gig working the shipping lanes. With more free time for her to fulfill her marketing duties, and with less oversight for her to perform a little wage theft on her social media accounts. She was still at least a decade away from repaying her debt, but at least in the dull monotony of cargo transport, she'd find some peace, quiet, and relaxation. ....100%

Background: Born in the shadows of Egorian's grand architecture, Caleria's life was destined to be anything but ordinary. Her birth was a deceitful blessing, as although she bears a number of marks that betray her as not fully human, her porcelain countenance suffices to pass muster. The offspring of a clandestine union between a mysterious stranger of infernal descent and a successful courtesan, she was raised in comfort, if not luxury. It was here that she learned first learned the value of power. Of holding it. Wielding it. Surrendering it. Her unique appearance placed her in a precarious position; she was ethereal, otherworldly. Different. The sense of not entirely belonging to the human world drove her to seek solace and purpose elsewhere. And rather than finding herself a place outside the world, she found a way to place herself above. Perhaps as she had always been destined to do. Seeking purpose, Caleria found herself drawn to the structured teachings of Dispater. In the Iron Lord she found a deity whose principles mirrored her own experiences of resilience and perseverance. Her dedication to this path didn't go unnoticed. She found herself in the arms of his true devotees before long, and through them she completed her journey to finding a lord to serve. She has it on good authority from auguries and advice that Longacre is in sore need of a firm hand to show it the benefits of true rulership. And that the woman Cimri Staelish may have some ideas on how to make that happen. Thanks to the assistance of her mother's subtle power amongst people of all walks of life in Egorian and the wider Cheliax, she has been in written correspondence with the woman who may well be her ticket to a higher station than a novice priestess and daughter of a courtesan. A ticket to true power. Personality: Caleria is a study in contrasts. Her ethereal appearance might suggest fragility, but she exudes an aura of quiet power and unyielding strength. She is introspective and often appears lost in thought, assessing those around her with the thoughtful gaze of a ruler - or a predator. Caleria is patient, a listener first and speaker second. When she does speak, her words are chosen with care, with nary a wasted syllable or gesture. Her devotion to Dispater has imbued her with an unshakeable sense of order, discipline, and purpose. And iron will to fit her iron lord. She is not quick to anger, but those who challenge her faith or misjudge her based on appearances would do well to tread carefully.

Name: Ardir Hálilúëa Race & Background: Elf (Shadar-Kai) ; Humble FarrierCustom Tasha's Background: Skills: Insight and Animal Handling Proficiencies: Smith's Tools & land vehicles Equipment: A set of artisan's tools (one of your choice), one trinket of special significance, a set of traveler's clothes, and a pouch containing 15gp Traveler Source: Van Richtens Guide to Ravenloft You come from somewhere else, a place others couldn't begin to understand. Perhaps your home is a unique corner of the Land of the Mists or another world entirely. In any case, you and other travelers have shared experiences. You can find a place to hide, rest, or recuperate among sympathetic trading caravans, itinerant families, or displaced groups, so long as you don't present yourself as a danger. Such groups will hide you from the law or anyone searching for you, though they won't risk their lives for you. Additionally, you can tell whether an object you can see and touch is from your homeland with near perfect accuracy. Gender: Male Class: Barbarian 1 Alignment and Deity: Chaotic Good Concept He's seen near a century in Falkovnia, and for many of his years, he simply did his job, shoeing horses for farmers and knights alike. Now, everything falls apart, and he has nothing left. His journey is one of grief, resilience, and making meaning within tragedy. Will he carve out space for hope and renewal, or merely find his own bloody death? Stats & Char Notes STR: 18 DEX: 14 CON: 16 INT: 10 WIS: 12 CHA: 10 Description Appearance: A gray-skinned elf with a lined face and mottled gray-white hair regards you with an expression of stoic sorrow, his hair is tangled and wild. He wears no armor, merely the linens and leathers of a tradesman, now torn up from battle. He carries a maul caked in blood, and through his rent garb, you see hard, corded muscle. Psych Eval: Ardir is in an unstable place. He is fundamentally patient and kind, but the world has so abused this that he has finally allowed violent demonstrations of frustration and grief. This is so new for him that he doesn't know how to reconcile his goodness with his capacity for violence. Enjoying the pulping sound a zombie's head makes when he shatters the skull makes him think he might be evil, even if he's still making decisions based around valuing those around him over himself. Feeling this internal instability, and not expecting to live long enough to need new friendships, he pushes others away with gruffness and cynicism. Hooks, Fears, Failures Hook: Arrival in Falkovnia: Seventy years ago, an exodus of Shadar-Kai escaped the Shadowfell, and settled in Silbervas. They were strange elves, even to the elves, and made their own places and ways while trading with the natives of Falkovnia. Ardir was a boy of merely ninety years for that exodus... he remembers clearly the horror that was the Shadowfell. -Music: Part I, , Impressions Tysh- "A reckless idealist trying to get impaled." Amaen - "Easy on the ears, and even easier on the eyes." Setare - "That boy? Ha, a vain peacock." Lady Grey - "Oh look, the pretty noble playing soldier." Verena - "Strange, cold... and I don't understand half of what she says." Maria - "WHOSE LOST CHILD IS THIS?" Rak'i'th - "Heh, and the locals thought we Shadar-Kai looked strange." Avrik - "It's been a long time since I believed the soldiers would save us." Marleybone - "Marleybone? HA! What sort of parents give a human child a gnomish name like that?" Edwin- "It's been a long time since I believed the knights in shining armor would save us." Falken- "Seems we're cut from the same cloth, you and I." Valter- "It's been a long time since I believed the knights in shining armor would save us." Fears: - Going into a rage, and not being able to come back out.Afraid of going Full 3.5 Frenzied Berzerker, forced to attack allies after the battle ends until he can make a high-DC wisdom save. The fluff for allies succeeding on this help action could be flavored as grappling him, splashing him in the face with water, etc. - The monsters of the Shadowfell, who were closing in on the refugee caravan even as the portal ritual was conducted. He remembers them with a child's terror. What if a few of them followed through the portal, and began spreading their corruption even before the Mists came? Failures: - While the soldiers herded his caravan to the capital, some of them helped themselves to merchandise from those who hadn't complied quickly enough. There were moments when a strong man could've stood for his fellows... and Ardir didn't. - Soldiers at the front Ardir joined told stories of howls that curdled their blood, of Ardir soaked in blood and laughing hysterically, and believe he is surely possessed by some manner of spirit. Fuller Background Life before the Fall: Before Drakov's arrival, life was tough but fair. Work was constant, but war wasn't, and there was space for faith, art, and hope. Unfortunately, his people had scarcely had the decades needed to integrate themselves when Drakov and her disasters arrived. The wars were bad enough, then the zombie uprisings broke everything. The Last Few Months: Several months ago, as the zombie troubles began, a military patrol conscripted him to be a farrier for their cavalry. The patrol's path took him to Lekar, where he learned that their orders didn't include returning to Silbervas. Weeks later, he heard of that city's fall. He stilled, becoming a stone to all questions, eyes locked on a distant point. Finally, he took up a sledgehammer meant for driving stakes, and walked to the front lines to repulse the undead. He'd been a kindly man, who loved horses and worked well with them. To the astonishment of all who knew him, he came back wearing the countenance of a killer. His kin and his kind. His friends and his family. His home and his hearth. Gone, gone to disaster, gone to the hubris of this destructive general, gone to the ravening dead. No more gentle mornings. Now, days of wrath. Now, days of ruin. Now to break the night itself with a red dawn.

STR DEX CON INT WIS CHA 9 17 13 12 13 12 Name: Setare Orfini Character Concept: Former albino drow slave pretends to be a standard high elf so as not to get shit from people. This goes about as well as expected whenever he's found out (which is to say usually not at all). Lineage, Background, Planned-Subclass Class: Drow Charlatan Soulknife Rogue. (Possible Cleric Dip later on.) Description: A young-looking elven man with snow-pale skin and oddly pinkish-orange eyes. His long hair is an almost silvery ashen blonde, a pair of thick braids keeping it tucked back out of one eye and held tight by a black velvet ribbon, with a few small braids scattered throughout the rest. He's usually seen in dark colors and wearing hoods or brimmed hats, with the occasional pop of color kept to chokers or slim ties. The scar on his face does not detract from how pretty he is to look at, especially with his tendency to paint thin lines of gold or silver along its edge. Almost like a badge of honor. Every aspect of his appearance is usually calculated to draw just enough attention to distract others and make them think him either a vain peacock or an incorrigible flirt. One of those is 'true' in the sense that he uses brazen flattery and flirtation to disguise just how uneasy most people make him- especially women. By nature, Set is a good-hearted enough person; by nurture, he is selfish, mistrustful and a little keen to solve any problem that makes him too anxious by simply getting rid of it. Your Character’s Plothook: A dreary night, an easy mark. Or so Set presumed. Following a 'conquest' he intended to render unconscious and rob back to their home resulted in him running headlong into a trap set by his former mistress. Only quick reactions save him from the whip trying to snare his ankles, the drow-poisoned blade looking to nick at any sliver of skin and render him unconscious and immobile. Easy to transport. Disappearing into Waterdeep's misty night is his only option. But the mist seems unending, and when he finally stumbles back onto cobblestone, the faint rush of the ocean is gone. There is only the fearful silence of people living in anticipation and dread- something he is more than familiar with. And so for the past week and a half, Setare has found himself stuck in this strange land full of the undead and soon to die, uncertain still whether or not it's better than falling back into his former owner's clutches. Backstory: As a child, Setare was often insinuated to be half Szarkai, a pointed jab at both his unknown parentage and his incredible pallor. Of course, given that such slights would have marked him for death, Setare learned violence at a rather early age- not unusual for a drow. Yet he never enjoyed it, and had little desire to pursue something beyond what he felt was suitable retribution. And though it did not earn him any favor with those around him, it at least kept them off his back so that he could attempt to live his life. Unfortunately, that wouldn't last long. Spotted on the street by the young lady of some well-to-do family, his unique pallor and pretty face made him something she wanted to own. And so own him she did, very much against his wishes- but with no living family and no real means to protect himself, he was 'taken in' as a playmate- though, to be more accurate, it was perhaps more a plaything. At best an errand boy or decoration, at worst, an object upon which to take out frustration. It was a miserable existence, being kept like little more than a pet, and being given scarcely more to eat than he needed to survive- though even that was subject to his mistress' whims. Especially since, unlike most Drow, Set did not remain a slight and wiry thing. He grew taller than expected by a fair bit- far more than any Drow had in what must be eons. And it only made him more of a prize, more of an oddity to be shown off. But the meals and means by which he was meant to live would not sustain him as he became older and larger both, and learning to pilfer more than his share became a necessity. Not that any of it would truly be missed by his wealthy 'benefactors', but on principle alone, he knows they would have done more than simply beat him for the audacity to need more than what they saw fit to allow him. This skill, however, is what eventually enabled his escape- stealing the key from his 'benefactors' and escaping during the household's resting hours- along with a few of their valuables to ease his way out in the world. (It only seemed fair to him, after all.) Knowing escape while still in the city would be impossible, he sold off what he could and bought enough supplies to make it to the surface- along with clothing that would cover him enough once he made it to keep him from faltering in the light. Once there, he decided that passing himself as a surface elf would be wise- something eased by his pallor and marked difference in personality from most Drow. In this way, he's managed to make his way through the last two decades of his life- lying to most people who have come to know him about his origins as he moved along from place to place until he finally came to settle in the city where he'd make his home- and take his place as one of the region's most notorious thieves. His hope was that his constant movements in the decades since his escape would have thrown off his former owners- but such was not the case. Between losing him and all the property he stole, they've been hells-bent on getting him back... and on making sure he pays for it with the rest of his long, long life. Fears, & Failures: Fears Small spaces- his previous mistress' preferred method of punishment was to lock him in a small crevice made into one of the walls for this express purpose. Spiders, be they large or small. Another favored punishment was to threaten him with being offered to some of the 'pets' of other drow socialites- which were followed up on once or twice. Rumors Include at least two of the following in your application: Loyalties: Set's allegiances are to himself and himself alone, for the most part. There are people he... relies on for information or work, but for the most part, he's decided that he's the only person he can rely on. Is Might Right?: No, because he's seen the 'strong' or the 'powerful' abuse their power both in the Underdark and on the surface, with little regard for how their actions impact those without the power or ability to protect themselves from those consequences. Deity: Leira, Shar (but like... lowkey, okay-) Music: - I hear it fading, I can't speak it, or else you will dig my grave. (Confessions of a King)- So I ran with the devil, left a trail of excuses; like a stone on the water the elements decide my fate. - And I'm taking in as much as I can hold, well, here are things you'll never know. Impressions: Amelia Gray: Capable. No-nonsense. Knows what she's about and what she wants to do. Seems to have a good head on her shoulders, but even if she's very mildly terrifying. Edwin Carver: Seems nice enough, but may be a bit over his head. Seems like he'd be more dependable than some of the other self-proclaimed 'knightly' types that are around. Caldir Balbroth: Making friends with dragonborn is always a good idea. They're usually stalwart enough to watch your back if you do a decent job of it. And one who can befriend a tressym is probably more than worth dealing wtih. Countess Kathryx: Whether full vampire or just a spawn, there's no trusting someone (or thing, perhaps) that has most of the rest of the world on its dinner menu. There's also just something about her that's very, very unsettling. Kain Dorset: A self-important noble type. He and his harem of retainers would be a hindrance in terms of supplies, but a help in terms of sheer numbers and carrying capacity. Still... too many women. Too many women by a mile. Harin Avosi: Means well, but thinks all problems can be resolved with words, and in a place like this, may not be the best attitude. Also not too good at recognizing when doing so might land him in more trouble than it will help the situation. Images: Images

Ilian Drakar Basic Information Race: Variant Human Sex: Male Age: 28 Height: 5' 10" Weight: 175 lbs. Alignment: Chaotic Good Background: Soldier Class: Wizard 1 Subclass: War Magic Personality Personality I'm haunted by memories of war. I can't get the images of violence out of my mind. Ideals When people follow orders blindly, they embrace a kind of tyranny. Bonds I fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. Flaws My hatred of my enemies is blind and unreasoning. Character Concept A scarred soldier, seeking refuge from the hellscape he has been thrust into, fights for not only his life but for those around him who cannot fight for themselves. Proficiency Bonus +2 | AC: 11 | Max HP: 8 | Speed: 30 ft | PP: 10 | Init: +1 STRENGTH DEXTERITY CONSTITUTION INTELLIGENCE WISDOM CHARISMA 13 (+1) 12 (+1) 15 (+2) 15 (+2) 11 (+0) 12 (+1) +1 Str Save +1 Dex Save +2 Con Save +4 Int Save +2 Wis Save +1 Cha Save +3 Athletics +1 Acrobatics +1 Sleight of Hand +1 Stealth +4 Arcana +4 History +2 Investigation +2 Nature +2 Religion +0 A. Handling +2 Insight +0 Medicine +0 Perception +0 Survival +1 Deception +3 Intimidation +1 Performance +1 Persuasion Features Class Features Spell CastingAs a student of arcane magic, you have a spellbook containing spells that show the first glimmerings of your true power. See Spells Rules for the general rules of spellcasting and the Spells Listing for the wizard spell list. Cantrips At 1st level, you know three cantrips of your choice from the wizard spell list. You learn additional wizard cantrips of your choice at higher levels, as shown in the Cantrips Known column of the Wizard table. Spellbook At 1st level, you have a spellbook containing six 1st-level wizard spells of your choice. Your spellbook is the repository of the wizard spells you know, except your cantrips, which are fixed in your mind. Preparing and Casting Spells The Wizard table shows how many spell slots you have to cast your wizard spells of 1st level and higher. To cast one of these spells, you must expend a slot of the spell’s level or higher. You regain all expended spell slots when you finish a long rest. You prepare the list of wizard spells that are available for you to cast. To do so, choose a number of wizard spells from your spellbook equal to your Intelligence modifier + your wizard level (minimum of one spell). The spells must be of a level for which you have spell slots. For example, if you’re a 3rd-level wizard, you have four 1st-level and two 2nd-level spell slots. With an Intelligence of 16, your list of prepared spells can include six spells of 1st or 2nd level, in any combination, chosen from your spellbook. If you prepare the 1st-level spell magic missile, you can cast it using a 1st-level or a 2nd-level slot. Casting the spell doesn’t remove it from your list of prepared spells. You can change your list of prepared spells when you finish a long rest. Preparing a new list of wizard spells requires time spent studying your spellbook and memorizing the incantations and gestures you must make to cast the spell: at least 1 minute per spell level for each spell on your list. Spellcasting Ability Intelligence is your spellcasting ability for your wizard spells, since you learn your spells through dedicated study and memorization. You use your Intelligence whenever a spell refers to your spellcasting ability. In addition, you use your Intelligence modifier when setting the saving throw DC for a wizard spell you cast and when making an attack roll with one. Spell save DC = 8 + your proficiency bonus + your Intelligence modifier Spell attack modifier = your proficiency bonus + your Intelligence modifier Ritual Casting You can cast a wizard spell as a ritual if that spell has the ritual tag and you have the spell in your spellbook. You don’t need to have the spell prepared. Spellcasting Focus You can use an arcane focus (see the Adventuring Gear section) as a spellcasting focus for your wizard spells. Learning Spells of 1st Level and Higher Each time you gain a wizard level, you can add two wizard spells of your choice to your spellbook for free. Each of these spells must be of a level for which you have spell slots, as shown on the Wizard table. On your adventures, you might find other spells that you can add to your spellbook (see the “Your Spellbook” sidebar). YOUR SPELLBOOK The spells that you add to your spellbook as you gain levels reflect the arcane research you conduct on your own, as well as intellectual breakthroughs you have had about the nature of the multiverse. You might find other spells during your adventures. You could discover a spell recorded on a scroll in an evil wizard’s chest, for example, or in a dusty tome in an ancient library. Copying a Spell into the Book. When you find a wizard spell of 1st level or higher, you can add it to your spellbook if it is of a spell level you can prepare and if you can spare the time to decipher and copy it. Copying that spell into your spellbook involves reproducing the basic form of the spell, then deciphering the unique system of notation used by the wizard who wrote it. You must practice the spell until you understand the sounds or gestures required, then transcribe it into your spellbook using your own notation. For each level of the spell, the process takes 2 hours and costs 50 gp. The cost represents material components you expend as you experiment with the spell to master it, as well as the fine inks you need to record it. Once you have spent this time and money, you can prepare the spell just like your other spells. Replacing the Book. You can copy a spell from your own spellbook into another book—for example, if you want to make a backup copy of your spellbook. This is just like copying a new spell into your spellbook, but faster and easier, since you understand your own notation and already know how to cast the spell. You need spend only 1 hour and 10 gp for each level of the copied spell. If you lose your spellbook, you can use the same procedure to transcribe the spells that you have prepared into a new spellbook. Filling out the remainder of your spellbook requires you to find new spells to do so, as normal. For this reason, many wizards keep backup spellbooks in a safe place. The Book’s Appearance. Your spellbook is a unique compilation of spells, with its own decorative flourishes and margin notes. It might be a plain, functional leather volume that you received as a gift from your master, a finely bound gilt-edged tome you found in an ancient library, or even a loose collection of notes scrounged together after you lost your previous spellbook in a mishap. Arcane RecoveryYou have learned to regain some of your magical energy by studying your spellbook. Once per day when you finish a short rest, you can choose expended spell slots to recover. The spell slots can have a combined level that is equal to or less than half your wizard level (rounded up), and none of the slots can be 6th level or higher. For example, if you’re a 4th-level wizard, you can recover up to two levels worth of spell slots. You can recover either a 2nd-level spell slot or two 1st-level spell slots Tools Dice Sets Feats & Other Elemental Adept (Fire)When you gain this feat, you gain the following benefits: Spells you cast ignore resistance to fire damage. In addition, when you roll damage for a spell you cast that deals fire damage, you can treat any 1 on a damage die as a 2. You can select this feat multiple times. Each time you do so, you must choose a different damage type. Racial & Background Features Military RankYou have a military rank from your career as a soldier. Soldiers loyal to your former military organization still recognize your authority and influence, and they defer to you if they are of a lower rank. You can invoke your rank to exert influence over other soldiers and requisition simple equipment or horses for temporary use. You can also usually gain access to friendly military encampments and fortresses where your rank is recognized. Languages Common, Elvish Equipment Clothes, Common Dagger Spellbook Scholars's pack Broken Blade Dice Set Magic Items None Appearance & Personality Ilian Drakar stands tall at 5 feet 10 inches, his frame both sturdy and lean, a testament to years spent honing his physical and mental faculties. His raven-black hair is cropped short, practical for the battlefield, though a few unruly locks often fall across his forehead. His piercing blue eyes exude a mixture of determination and hidden vulnerability, their intensity softened only by the faint shadows that linger beneath them. He carries himself with a soldier's discipline, his clothes are well-maintained despite their modesty, adorned with subtle insignias that hint at his past service. Though his countenance may appear stern at first glance, a closer look reveals a certain wariness that speaks of a life shaped by trials both mundane and otherworldly. At 28 years old, Ilian Drakar embodies a rare blend of discipline and curiosity. His soldier's upbringing instilled in him a sense of order and strategy, a penchant for calculated actions rather than impulsive decisions. This determination has not wavered despite his sudden displacement to the enigmatic realm of Falkovnia. A quiet intensity underscores his interactions, the result of his training. His personality is a guarded one, revealing only fragments of his history to those around him. Ilian's desire to return home and his thirst for understanding Ravenloft drive him to delve into the occult and the arcane, but his heart carries the weight of unfinished battles and unanswered questions. Plothook Ilian Drakar was born into a realm perpetually embroiled in conflict. Raised in the shadow of an ongoing war, he quickly learned the art of discipline and strategy, traits that would serve him well in his later life. As a young soldier, he rose through the ranks due to his exceptional tactical skills and magical prowess, which he honed tirelessly. During a pivotal battle, as Ilian stood poised to unleash a decisive spell against one of his enemies, a mysterious mist materialized around him. In an instant, he was transported to the realm of Falkovnia, leaving behind his allies and the familiar cries of war. Confused and determined to find a way back to his war-torn homeland, Ilian redirected his strategic mind toward understanding the dark magic that had brought him to this eerie new world. Yet, alongside his drive to return home, he felt the call to action as he witnessed firsthand the horrors of this new land... Backstory Ilian Drakar was born in the midst of conflict, his first cries echoing against a backdrop of war-torn landscapes. His parents were soldiers, and as the flames of battle raged on, they instilled in him a deep sense of discipline and the importance of strategy. Growing up, Ilian's playtime was spent studying battle formations and practicing the art of warfare rather than indulging in the typical pastimes of childhood. By the age of ten, he could recite tactical treatises with the same ease that other children spoke nursery rhymes. As he entered his teenage years, Ilian's natural aptitude for magic emerged. Drawn to the arcane arts, he began to experiment with harnessing magic to manipulate the very forces of the world. Combining his inherited discipline with this newfound power, Ilian quickly gained a grasp for fire magic. Most waking moments were spent with either his parents drilling physical discipline into him or Ilian pondering the tomes that he could get his hands on. Ilian's reputation as a formidable soldier and mage continued to grow as he entered adulthood. His tactical brilliance and control over fire magic made him a beacon of hope for a realm that seemed perpetually consumed by conflict. Yet, fate had a different plan in store. During a battle that held the potential to change the course of the war, Ilian found himself enveloped in an otherworldly mist. The familiar cries of war faded, replaced by an eerie silence. When the mist dissipated, he stood alone in a new unsettling realm. Determined to return to his homeland, Ilian's disciplined mind shifted toward comprehending the strange magic of this new world. Fears and Failures Fears: Isolation: Having spent much of his life in the company of comrades and allies, Ilian's greatest fear is now being utterly alone. The isolation he experienced when he was abruptly transported to Ravenloft left a deep scar on his psyche. The idea of being cut off from any form of human connection, trapped in a desolate realm without friends or allies, strikes a chord of primal dread within him. It's a fear that drives him to seek companionship and forge bonds wherever he can, even in the midst of Ravenloft's mysteries. Powerlessness: Ilian's mastery over fire magic has always been a source of empowerment, allowing him to control the elements and shape the outcome of battles. The prospect of losing that power, whether through an arcane curse or some unforeseen force, terrifies him to his core. The notion of being rendered powerless in the face of danger, unable to protect himself or others, represents a vulnerability that he struggles to accept. This fear drives him to continuously push the boundaries of his magical abilities, seeking to ensure that he will never again be at the mercy of external forces. Failures: Cursed Catalyst: Whispers in the shadows speak of Ilian being the catalyst for the war that consumed his homeland. The rumor suggests that his extraordinary magical abilities were harnessed in ways that triggered a series of events leading to bloodshed and turmoil. The rumor's insinuation that he inadvertently caused the suffering he sought to end haunts Ilian, making him question whether he's truly a hero or a harbinger of destruction. Haunted Legacy: Another rumor claims that Ilian's family is cursed, a legacy that has followed them for generations. The curse, it's said, twists the path of any Drakar who achieves great power, leading them to tragic fates. This unsettling rumor only adds to Ilian's fear of losing control over his magic and the potential consequences of his actions. The idea that his pursuit of mastery might come at the cost of his own downfall gnaws at his mind, fueling his determination to overcome adversity. Is Might Right?: Ilian Drakar's personal philosophy on power and authority is a nuanced one, shaped by his experiences on the battlefield and his journey through the mystic arts. He believes that power itself isn't inherently right or wrong; rather, it's the intentions and actions behind its use that determine its morality. Growing up in a realm defined by conflict, he saw firsthand the impact of power wielded recklessly, causing suffering and chaos. This led him to believe that the responsible and strategic use of power can indeed be right, but only when it serves the greater good and is tempered by a sense of duty and empathy. Deity: In essence, Ilian's beliefs revolve around a balance between the pragmatic discipline of his soldier's past and an open-minded reverence for the mysteries of the universe. He doesn't reject the existence of the gods but rather finds his own path in understanding the intricate relationships between all things. This worldview guides him to make choices based on empathy, wisdom, and a deep respect for the intricate harmony of existence, all while acknowledging the divine without being bound to the dogmas of traditional worship.

Kain Dorset Basic Information Race: Variant Human Sex: Male Age: 21 Height: 6' 0" Weight: 225 lbs. Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Background: Noble/Knight/Retainers Class: Fighter 1 Subclass: Eldritch Knight Personality Personality If you do me an injury, I will crush you, ruin your name, and salt your fields. Despite my noble birth, I do not place myself above other folk. We all have the same blood. Ideals Independence. I must prove that I can handle myself without the coddling of my family. (Chaotic) Bonds My loyalty to my people is unwavering. The common folk must see me as a hero of the people. Flaws I have an insatiable desire for carnal pleasures. I tend to pursue my enemies with burning hatred. Character Concept A young Knight out to prove himself to his family and people, trying his hardest without the real experience of the world to guide him. Proficiency Bonus +2 | AC: 19 | Max HP: 13 | Speed: 30 ft | PP: 14 | Init: +3 STRENGTH DEXTERITY CONSTITUTION INTELLIGENCE WISDOM CHARISMA 19 (+4) 15 (+2) 16 (+3) 15 (+2) 14 (+2) 13 (+1) +6 Str Save +2 Dex Save +5 Con Save +2 Int Save +2 Wis Save +1 Cha Save +6 Athletics +2 Acrobatics +2 Sleight of Hand +2 Stealth +2 Arcana +4 History +2 Investigation +2 Nature +2 Religion +2 A. Handling +2 Insight +2 Medicine +4 Perception +4 Survival +1 Deception +1 Intimidation +1 Performance +3 Persuasion Equipment Clothes, Fine Set Longsword and Shield Signet Ring Dungeoneer’s Pack Scroll of Pedigree Dice Set Chain mail Light crossbow & 20 Bolts House Banner Magic Items None Appearance & Personality Tall for a human, Kain stands over most other his own age at 6' tall, with a well muscled frame made from years of physical training. His pale skin and bright blue eyes betray a northern upbringing in colder lands. His white hair is distinctive, and not at all in line with any of his other family members, but as to the reason for its strange appearance, no one knows. His hair is short, both to keep it from his face, but also to keep it from catching in a helmet or grabbed in combat. He has several tattoos on his torso and arms, the ink a deep dark rust color, made from black ink and blood mixed in a strange alchemical process. His chest holds the crest of his house, while his arm tattoos seem strangely... abstract... Far from most Nobles, Kain tries to be friendly to everyone upon first meeting, no matter their status or station in the world. A young naivety that comes with his lack of real world experience perhaps, or maybe just an act, it is hard to tell. Being raised as a soldier Kain has understanding of tactics and command to a point, but his youth can make him a bit rash. He rarely speaks of his own feelings but is more than happy to check up on others, preferring to keep to himself what he thinks and feels as he believes exposing these to others could be a weakness. Plothook Born in a relatively peaceful land, Kain was taught the way of the sword and magics from a young age. He picked up the art of the blade rather quickly, magic... not so much. He was never really in any true danger for the majority of his younger life, until his 17th year, when he was assigned his first squire, a young boy named Dorian. On a regular patrol their unit was ambushed by bandits and in the chaos that ensued, Dorian was slain and Kain was partially blamed for his death and demoted. It took several years to regain that honor once again and finally be given a new squire. Now, on a patrol of the lands once again Kain finds his small groups camp surrounded by strange mists. With his horses spooked and gone he and his servants grab what they can from the wagons and saddle bags and try to head for home, only to find themselves in a strange new lands as the fog thins. With his past now somewhat farther behind him, he hopes to make a difference here, and become the hero he truly wishes he can be. Backstory Born to minor nobles in charge of farmland in between Daggerford and Waterdeep, Kain was raised around the commonfolk making a bit different than the average Noble. His youngest memories consist of sword training in the morning with his father, and magic studies in the evening with his mother. His one day off from schooling was spent out in the fields, playing with the commoners children and wandering through the small hamlets. On special occasions he would accompany his parents on trips to Waterdeep for noble parties and other functions, giving Kain a rather rounded view of the world. He grew up in relative safety and comfort giving him a rather sheltered view of his surroundings until his 15th birthday. He was sent to train with other knights of the land in Waterdeep, and sent on patrols with them. After several combat encounters, Kain's innocence was mostly gone. Killing bandits and monsters was not at all what he was accustom too, but he felt no aversion to it either. It filled him with a sense of duty as every swing of his blade aided in protecting those who he was charged to protect. He trained and fought besides these knights for two years before returning home to a welcoming party for his 17th birthday. Now charged with the training of a young squire boy named Dorian, Kain felt like a true knight and began to act foolishly. His first patrol of the lands ended poorly, resulting in several injuries among his men, and the death of his squire. Shamed and demoted by his father back to squire, Kain spent the next few years learning humility and the art of command. Now at 20, Kain is a Knight once more, given retainers and a squire to care for once again. He spent the next year working to protect the lands around him, commanding a small unit of men on patrols. Shortly after his 21st birthday he took his squire and two favorite servants out to the woods for a hunting trip, separating them from his patrol unit. It was here that the mists surrounded them, spooked his horses, and sent them all down a winding path into the darkest places of this gods forsaken place... Fears and Failures Fears: Kain fears deep water and the possibility of drowning. Wearing armor most of his days makes swimming difficult and being pulled under a real possibility. Losing his new squire, as he has grown fond of her in the last year. Becoming a monster. Kain wants to be a hero to his people, and those who need him, and becoming a monster, either while still human, or quite literally a monster undead or otherwise absolutely terrifies him. Failures: Kain's inexperience cost the life of his previous squire... Kain is actually a bastard child and not truly the son of his Father, therefore not a true Noble... Kain's kindness is really just an act to get people to like him more, so he can manipulate them... Kain killed another knight in a dual... On purpose... Retainers: Squire: Lady Amelia Silver Cook/Servant: Elora Greenleaf Servant/Armor and Horse Care: Mia Rosebrow Details Music: Connections: Ser Alexander Dorset (Kain's Father/Knight) A hard man who keeps his home and lands with an iron fist. A true believer that the strong must help guide the weak, but more importantly, protect them, even from themselves. Lady Nicolette Dorset (Kain's Mother/Wizard) The soothing balm to her her people and counter to her husbands iron fist, she is the first to aid whoever needs it. A loving mother to all she may seem a bit naive at first but she is fiercely intelligent and a shrewd diplomat when needed and can be just as intimidating as her husband, perhaps even more so... Deity: Torm: Kain follows Torm due to his knightly nature. Kain believes that loyalty and duty is all well and good, but one still needs to take a moment to consider ones actions fist so as to ensure their intent would uphold the chivalric ideals. This has caused him a bit of grief from time to time as not all orders come from a place of noble intent or a good heart, but they are what is best for the people and country. Is Might Right?: Kain does not believe that the strong should always be in charge, Strength alone does not make for good kingcraft or leadership. The duty of the strong is to protect those who lack the means to protect themselves. One who leads can be weak, so long as the strong stand beside them.

Harin Avosi Name: Harin Avosi Character Concept: Master poet bard proves the pen is mightier but the sword works too. Race, Background, Subclass Class: Half-elf, Sage, College of Lore Bard Description: Harin, who almost never goes by his full name, stands at 5 feet 7 inches and is a spry 125 pounds. He has dark curly hair of medium length and a long beard. Gray is starting to color his otherwise dark beard and temples and he has dark skin. He is a half-elf, although nothing in his appearance would normally give off any indication of elven blood except that a keen observer might find hints of non-human ancestry in his eyes. As for his temperament, he is normally calm, quiet, and contemplative, but he has a knack for understanding what "role" any particular "audience" expects and either conforming to it or subverting it to produce a certain desired effect. Indeed, he tends to view people he is not close with as something to be better understood so as to be better manipulated, although he does not do so lightly or without a purpose in mind. Generally, this comes back to his ultimate aim, which is to dig at the heart of existence to better understand its truth, and therefore its beauty, and come as close as he can to expressing it as such. Your Character’s Plot Hook: Harin had been wandering Faerun, traveling the land in search of truth and beauty when the mists took him. He was walking alone along an empty road early one morning, composing poems and melodies in his mind when the normal morning fog seemed to suddenly shift and change, moving suddenly to surround him as he came to a crossroad. He felt no movement, only a slight shift in the air, and the mists receded as quickly as they had come. When they had, he realized that he was standing at the edge of a forest overlooking a clearing surrounding a walled city, Lekar. He has yet to experience a new moon attack, but he has an inkling of its destructive capabilities, having arrived soon after the previous one and witnessed the aftermath. Past is Prologue: Harin was born and raised in Waterdeep to a family of minor academics. His mother, a human, was a tutor and his father, a half-elf, was a poet, although neither enjoyed high social stations. When he reached adolescence, having been taught how to read and write several languages by his parents, he was sent to apprentice for a local academic, a wizard studying lore and arcana. His master mostly kept him busy translating various texts, and this is how Harin's love of poetry grew, but he was also allowed to learn swordplay and some simple spells as reward for his hard work and to assist and protect his master on her rare ventures into the field. As he grew to adulthood, Harin became disenchanted by academia, having grown weary of the snobbishness and ambiguous rules. He decided to head out into the world to find real truth, which he reasoned could only be found in the real world among real people. He learned to support his travels, both financially and by means of influencing the right people to gain access to knowledge that otherwise would have been closed to him, by performing. This was most often poetry but also sometimes music, acting, or orating. His favorite trick was to use his understanding of the mind to "read" a person and create a poem on the spot that touched them in a deeply personal way, sometimes to the effect of the person becoming completely overwhelmed by emotion. Fears and Failures: Harin biggest fear is failing to find ultimate truth and turn it into poetry before he dies. Another of his fears is swarms of spiders or other creepy crawlers. Some have suggested that a deeper part of Harin, even though he always uses the greater good to rationalize his actions, has begun to actually enjoy manipulating people for the sense of power it gives him. There are some whispers that have started among the people of Lekar that his ability to read and influence people comes from a deal he made with a devil at the crossroads, and that he may even be working with the evil that is behind the undead. Details: Deity: Deneir. Being a seeker of truth first and a poet second, he worships Deneir wholeheartedly. Connections: Father: Malir Avosi, poet Mother: Sanoh Bahdu, tutor/poet Wizard Master: Orihana Sirdoso, academic

Tysh Mountainheart Basics Name: Character Concept: A Chaotic Good cleric of Selûne whose goals are to liberate the common people from their tyrannical government's bonds and protect them from the threats that lie within the Mists. Lineage, Background, Planned-Subclass Class: Hill Dwarf Acolyte Twilight Domain Cleric Description: Tysh is 4'2", 175 pounds, and 125 years old. She has reddish-brown skin and light gray eyes. The mountain of thick black hair atop her head reaches down to her mid-back. She wears chain mail in the colors of Selûne: silver and blue. She wears a lightweight white cloak over her armor. If asked the meaning of the colors, she simply says she likes them. Her warhammer and shield were inherited from her father and show signs of extensive use, but are still in great working condition. Tysh takes her duties seriously and that shows in her demeanor. Those who know her well speak of her incredible warmth, generosity, and fortitude. Her quiet confidence inspires loyalty and puts others at ease. While she believes in doing the right thing, she understands that following the Falkovnian laws will not bring about the change she believes Selûne wants to see. Sometimes the ends do justify the means - within reason, of course. Your Character’s Plothook: Tysh wandered the realm searching for her father, joining up with a series of adventuring parties along the way. She’d been all over Faerûn, but was never able to find the mysterious mist. That is, until it found her. Tysh and her fellow adventurers were camped at the edge of the Neverwinter Wood, resting after a long day’s travel. Silently, stealthily, the mist crept through the trees towards their sleeping bodies. The man on watch raised the alarm, but he saw it too late. The mist swept over Tysh and two of her friends, while the others managed to escape. When Tysh and her friends could see again, she was in a desolate foreign land: Falkovnia. Backstory: Tysh Mountainheart was born in Waterdeep to Baern and Vanna Mountainheart. Her father, a cleric of Selûne, lived an adventurer’s life committed to driving back darkness and honoring the laws of the land. Raised primarily under the loving care of her mother, Tysh grew up worshipping Selûne and had a happy childhood. Still, she lived for the days her father spent at home with them. The stories of adventure, triumph of good over evil, and far-off lands stirred her imagination and fed her wanderlust. She was 14 when one of her father’s party members, Alain Teklum, showed up at her door with his shield and battleaxe. Tysh could tell Alain was holding something back when he described how her father simply disappeared into a wall of mist. Try as she might, she couldn’t convince him to elaborate. It was then she determined to find her father. She took up his battleaxe and shield, took a vow to Selûne, and started to train. Years passed. While she had a sense of urgency to find her father, she never felt ready to leave. She had a dream on her 35th birthday where Selûne told her that it was time to go. And so, at 35, her search for the mysterious mists that stole her father began. It took 88 years, but she finally found it - or rather, it found her (see plothook). Tysh found her father after a year in Falkovnia. Although missing a leg and an eye, he made himself useful at Lekar by performing healing services alongside a local doctor. Their reunion was a happy one, but Baern privately mourned the fact that his daughter suffered the same fate as he did. He warned Tysh to keep her religious views private, and advised her and her friends to keep a low profile as much as possible. Lekar’s daily executions reinforced her father’s warnings. It’s now been two years since Tysh and her friends arrived in Falkovnia. Her bond with Selûne is stronger than ever. She feels a sense of responsibility to help overcome the dark threats of the Mist and the tyrannical Falkovnian government. Fears, & Failures: Fears: Losing her father again. Losing contact with Selûne. Being lost in the mist. Rumors: She once left a soldier to die when she could have helped him. She caused a man to leave his wife and young children. She once brewed some beer that tasted like rotten eggs. Details Include at least two of the following in your application: Deity: Tysh worships Selûne, goddess of the moon. The center of Tysh's shield bears the symbol of Selûne: a pair of eyes surrounded by seven stars. She shares a Chaotic Good alignment with Selûne, which was much to her parents' (Lawful Good) chagrin. Tysh prioritizes Good over Chaos: protecting the innocent is of the utmost importance. After arriving in Falkovnia and seeing the horrors that exist there, she believed that Selûne sent her here as a test of her faith. Her goals are to liberate the common people from their tyrannical government's bonds and protect them from the threats that lie within the Mists. She is willing to bend or break the rules in order to do so. She regularly experiences Selûne's presence through omens, signs, and feelings. Music: Tell me what your character sounds like, musically. You can give me a specific composer, band, style of music, or motifs, but music plays a large part in the games I run. No one’s judging your taste in music here, and I’d be more than happy to help you if you want suggestions. Overall vibe: (Calm, relaxed, comforting) Personal Philosophy: Attitude/Commitment to Cause: Connections: Living family member: Baern Mountainheart, her father. He lives in Lekar and works with a local physician as a healer. Former adventuring party members: Elaine Wainwright: Human barbarian who joined the Talons to protect Lekar. She uses her wagon-making skills to help maintain the wagons for the army. Out of respect and loyalty, she keeps Tysh's religious beliefs a secret. Malaak Liadon: Elf ranger who wanders Falkovnia and visits Tysh's father when she's away. During their time adventuring together, he taught Tysh Elvish and she taught him Dwarvish. Enemy: Asha Firkan from Lekar, a human woman who believes that Tysh caused her husband to abandon her and their children. Impressions Maria: Polite girl who has likely experienced recent trauma. She seems sweet, although troubled, and in need of security. Tysh worries her need for security may lead her to make rash decisions, such as agreeing to leave with Rak'i'th in the morning. Rak'i'th: Seemingly earnest, honorable man with a poet's soul and an eagerness to help. She is skeptical about his intent with Maria, as his offer to leave with her in the morning was extended very quickly. People who are so willing to take children soon after meeting them do not normally have the best of intentions. Edwin: A shallow man whose cavalier attitude may put them all at risk in an emergency. Still, first impressions are not always correct. She's giving him the benefit of the doubt. Ardir: A kind, somber man whose light is dimmed by grief from a trauma of great magnitude. He is competent and battle-tested, as evidenced by the shard of undead bone and viscera that pepper his garb. Despite his serious disposition, the glimpses of humor and his agreement to aid her reassure Tysh that he is not wholly lost to the darkness.

Samm Cutler; (Ex-) Pirate, Battlemaster Fighter Name: Samm Cutler, a.k.a. "Cutthroat Cutler" Character Concept: Old pirate stranded in Falkovnia on his last trip before retiring to shore with his woman. Lineage, Background, Subclass: Variant Human, Pirate, Battlemaster Fighter Personality: My language is as foul as an otyugh nest. To me, a tavern brawl is a nice way to get to know a new city. Ideal: Freedom. The sea is freedom-the freedom to go anywhere and do anything. (Chaotic) Mastery. I'm a predator, and the other ships on the sea are my prey. (Evil) Bond: I'm loyal to my captain first, everything else second. In a harbor town, I have a paramour whose eyes nearly stole me from the sea. Flaw: Once I start drinking, it's hard for me to stop. Description A weathered sailor, face covered in a mixture of tattoos and scars grins at you, showing off a mouthful of missing teeth and gold fillings. It is not a friendly smile. Several earrings hand off both ears, along with nicks telling of rings pulled out and near misses from bolts, bullets and blades. He smells of the sea, of salt, whiskey and a hard life lived well. As your gaze traces down past the twin snake torc around his neck, you see the top of a huge compass rose peeking through the open neck of his rough woven undyed hemp shirt, more fine white lines crisscrossing his chest alongside twin rows of circular scars that tell of might sea beasts. Off his waist hangs a fishing net, and somehow a dull black hand-crossbow has found its way into his offhand, loaded and cocked. A sea serpent tattoo curls its way up his arm, drawing your eye to the viciously spiked boathook across his back, which you suspect is used far less often for its intended purpose as other uses. A rough voice, full of menacing undercurrents, recaptures your attention. “Aye, that’s right. I reckon me’n my woman’s all sorted for protection ya little bloodsuckin’ tick. So why don’ you take your offer and shove it up ya f*cking arsehole before I do it for ya. An if your boss has any problems with that tell ‘im to ask for Cutthroat Cutler!” Personality Rough, fiercely independent and foul-mouthed its a wonder Samm hasn't found himself on the end of a pike yet. In fact the only thing keeping him from impalement is probably a combination of his fighting proficiency, his recent arrival and the devils own luck he's not met someone important enough yet. Samm grew up hard, born to a harbour-town whore, and shanghai'd into a pirate crew as soon as he looked able to sale the mast. He learned quickly to look after himself, because there sure ain't no-one else gonna do it for him. He spends his share like water every time he hit shore, throwing it away on whiskey, wagers and women. Like most sailors he has an overly healthy dose of superstitions, an intense distrust of any magic, and a frankly blasphemous relationship with the divine (which is probably want ended him up in the mess in the first place). Still, since meeting his woman - the fair fisherman's daughter Connie Bell (or Fair Bonnie Connie as he affectionately calls her) - he's promised to be a better man. Probably still not a good man, but a better one. She's not here though, so till he can get back to her you can all get tae f*ck. Background/Plothook Samm clung to the rigging as the rain lashed against his face, the boat pitching wildly in the storm. They needed to reef the sail before a gust cracked the mast. He’d said he’d take one last trip to help pay off debts before settling down with fair bonnie Connie in Brisbane Harbour off the Sword Coast, promising that his share would set them up for life so that he wouldn’t need to do any criminal work no more and they could buy a house down the nice end of the bay on the beach. So he’d signed up with his old Captain, a sea-elf with sharpened teeth and a fondness for halfling who went by the name Undivien Seaborne. She’d led them on a merry hunt through several rich merchant barges, before fleeing into this tempest to escape the pursing navy vessels. He reached for the rope, wrapping the rough hemp round his hand ready to swing down and furl the sail, just as the wind whipped the canvas open, and a crack splintered through the air from below. As the mast slowly began to topple forward he cursed out the B*tch Queen herself. He’d be damned if he was going to die this close to making it home. The ship pitched forward over a wave, and suddenly it was calm. Stillness surrounded them, as a fog rolled in from nowhere, filled with heavy suffocating silence. Only the muffled creaking of the ship could be heard as they slowly drifted forward, all holding their breath. A pained creaking scrape came from below and the ship rose out of the water, before rolling ponderously onto its side. They’d hit land. There shouldn’t be any land out here. They were in the middle of the gods-damned ocean for Evendur’s sake. Cries rang out below as panic fled through the crew, followed by shouting and the crack of a whip as Undivien tried to reassert control. Next came the moans. Out of the mists came shambling forms, grey and rotted with unblinking stares. The drowned and the dead. That was it for Samm. He grabbed what he had and swung himself off the ship and into the mist, running for it. He was going to see his Connie again. Behind him, he heard the cries of Undivien Seaborne fighting, and promising hell to anyone who ran away. He had no doubt the Captain would make it out, she always did, but he’d deal with that when it came to it. Maybe she’d just assume he died in the storm… Fears & Failures Samm is distrusting of magic, especially non-divine magic, which largely stems from a deepseated fear of it Samm is afraid of not seeing Connie Bell again, and not seeing the sea again; of being trapped here for the rest of his life (where-ever here may be), and his past catching up with Connie whilst he can’t protect her Samm is afraid of coming back as an undead creature like those he saw in the mists, his soul trapped in a rotting body. Samm abandoned his ship and his crew in the face of the dead (True) Samm never learned to write and can only read simple text. (???) Samm bested a Blood Talon in a gutter brawl when he first arrived, and the man has it out for him since. (???) Samm has a secret stash of gold he bought with him through the mists and buried in Falkovnia. (???) Deities Samm swears by - and at - a whole host of deities, but most commonly Umberlee (The B*tch Queen of the Sea), Talos (The Storm Lord), Auril (The Queen of Air and Darkness), Tempus, and Dagon (Prince of the Depths) Music Connections Captain Undivien Seaborne - a female sea elf "with sharpened teeth and a fondness for halfling", the pirate queen captain of Samm's most recent doomed mission. She may or may not be trapped in Falkovnia along with Samm, and may or may not be out for his blood for abandoning her crew. Connie Bell (Fair Bonnie Connie) - Samm's lover and wife-to-be, left behind on the Sword Coast Lieutenant Harald Sehren - a Blood Talon Samm met shortly after arriving in Falknovia... up to you if this is was a positive or negative interaction!

Basics Picture: Name: Scarby, Old Scarbs Character Concept: An early 18th century American colonial sailor finds himself in world of terror. Lineage, Background, Planned-Subclass Class: Human Variant, Sailor, Unarmed Champion Fighter Description: Scarborough Foster is a man in his mid 50s with weather-beaten features and hair that is more salt than pepper. His wiry frame stands just over 6 feet tall and retains much of its strength and agility, despite being far past his prime. His hands and fingers are thick with callouses but deftly nimble, capable of tying any number of knots or punching someone in the face. He wears simple, practical clothing that is common to his era and profession: linen trousers and long-sleeved shirt, waterproof canvas long coat, with low-cuffed salt-worn boots that can be easily kicked-off for climbing and swimming. He has since added a leather jerkin (leather armor), and given the situation wherein he was drawn into the Mists, he is unarmed. Scarborough is gruff and prone to bursts of anger, although he often remorseful after losing his temper even if he is too stubborn to admit it. He has seen much during his travels and is no stranger to loss. Although generally helpful to strangers, he can at times be dismissive of younger people and tends to keep others at a distance. He carries many seaborne beliefs and superstitions that become especially pronounced when he is nervous, such as checking knots or knocking on wood. Backstory: Scarborough was an orphan and raised at a priory in Jamestown, Virginia Colony. He chafed under the strictures of the church and fled when he was 13 years old. Since then, he has held nearly every position one can have on a ship in his long career at sea, with the exception of captain. Although he preferred to make an honest living on merchant vessels, mostly in the Caribbean, he was briefly pressed into service as a privateer. Scarborough has no close friends and believed that he had no family. In his youth, his one great love was the Lady Abigail Ashbourne. Their time together was brief and passionate, but social class divided them. Upon her return to England, she married and passed from consumption soon after. Several years later, Scarborough caught a glimpse of Abigail's daughter, Elizabeth. The resemblance between him and her is unmistakeable. Since then, Scarborough's goal was to one day meet his daughter. Your Character’s Plothook: After years sending her presents from his many travels, Scarborough resolved to meet Elizabeth. A fog had already descended on London that night when he approached her front door. There, he was instructed by a maid-servant to wait for her mistress in the garden. Elizabeth arrived and with tears in their eyes, they embraced. United at long-last, their time was cut short when Elizabeth's step-father began to call out for her. Elizabeth just had enough time to turn and tell Scarborough to hide before the Mists parted them. That is when the terror began, as a zombie burst forth from the fog to attack him. Scarborough arrived to Falkovnia on the night of a new moon in the middle of a zombie attack. That was a couple of weeks ago now. He is not entirely sure how he survived that first night. Scarborough knows he is out of his depth. He does not believe that Elizabeth was drawn into this nightmare (although I leave that up to the GM). Although he does not think he will make it out of this alive, his one hope now is to see his daughter one last time. Fears & Rumors: Cannibalism (Fear). Anything with tentacles or with long and coiling appendages, including snakes (Fear). He once resorted to cannibalism (Rumor). He has a brand that marks him as a mutineer (Rumor). Music: The Mariner's Revenge Song by The Decemberists Is Might Right?: Everyone has a role on a ship. Each need to do their part and someone has to be in-charge. However, a heavy-handed captain invites mutiny. More often than not, there was a better way, and 'might makes right' is often the justification for the high and mighty to stomp on the weak and defenseless. Game Statics Ancestry: Variant human Class/Level: Fighter 1 Ability Scores: Strength 16 (+3), Dexterity 16 (+3), Constitution 14 (+2), Intelligence 8 (-1), Wisdom 12 (+1), Charisma 8 (-1) Skills: The Acrobatics +5, Athletics +5, Insight+3, Perception +3, Survival +3 Passive Perception: 13 Passive Investigation: 9 Tool Proficiencies: Navigator's tools, vehicles (waterborne) Language(s): Common ("English") Combat Hit Points: 12/12 Initiative: +3 Movement: 30' Armor Class: 14 (Leather Armor, Dexterity +3) Saves: Strength +5, Constitution +4 Attack(s): +5 Unarmed strike 1d8+3 or +5 Improvised Weapon 1d4+3 (Thrown, Range 20/60) *Bonus Action After Hitting w/ an Unarmed Strike: Make a grapple check against the target. Class Features: Fighting Style (Unarmed Fighting), Second Wind Feat(s): Tavern Brawler

Rhortigern Vanhaldred "Stuck in a rotten land with no escape, under the rule of a mad woman, and constantly beset by undead...I'm not doing this sober." Name: Rhortigern Vanhaldred Character Concept: Just a guy who fights monsters, tries to look good doing it, and picks up chicks...well he tries to at any rate. Race, Background, Subclass Class: Variant Human, FiendslayerTo some, they are madmen. To others, they are courageous heroes. To the churches, they are heretics. Fiendslayers take up the cause of fighting the creatures of Dread. They tend to live short brutal lives that end in either death or becoming the very monsters they fight. Skills: Choose two of Arcana, Investigation, Religion, or Survival Tools: None Languages: Choose two languages, one of which being an exotic language (Abyssal, Celestial, Deep Speech, Draconic, Infernal, Primordial, Sylvan, or Undercommon) Starting Equipment: A monster hunter’s pack and one trinket of special significance (choose one or roll on the Gothic Trinkets table). Also gain a set of set of common clothes and 1sp. Feature: Inheritor , Blood Hunter Description: A pale lanky man dressed in weathered but functional clothing and armor. He always has glum smiled and sunken eyes. His gait is accompanied by the acrid scent of alchemy and blood. Rhort when he is on the move When he speaks, whatever aura of menace he first gives off completely evaporates! Rhortigern has a morbid and maudlin sense of humor. He will often spend his free time indulging in drink and pleasurable company...both of which usually cost him the majority of his earnings from fiendslaying. Origin: Unknown, he hardly remembers his life before the Mists. Falkovnia is his homeland as far as he's concerned though he would jump at the opportunity to get the hell out. Your Character’s Plothook: Claims to be searching for his vanished mentor "To kill the rotten bastard!" Past is Prologue: From the Mists a child once appeared on the cobble streets, no more than nine years of age. The superstitious populace naturally shunned this newcomer. He was on the brink of dying from neglect had an old fiendslayer not found him. Rhortigern as a child The infamous Vackhem Vanhaldred took the young Rhortigern in and taught the boy everything he knew of the Realms. He also learned the Cursed Blood Arts, which the Faith declare a mortal sin for even knowing and the locals and nobles barely tolerated for their utility in combat against the creatures of Dread. It was a kind of power that drew from the life force of the wielder. For nine long and brutal years, Rhort's upbringing could only be described as a slightly more productive form of torture. Vackhem would drill him for hours, curse the boy out for failure, and beat him for talking back. Seldom was the lad praised for a job well done. In time, Rhort began to wonder if he was not saved out of pity but rather to be a target of the fiendslayer's unspoken frustrations. Eventually, he realized that there was sense of urgency in his tutelage. Every eve, the old man would watch the sunset in grim contemplation. Every morn, he woke to find Vackhem watching the sunrise like it was his teacher's last. Had he not hated the bastard so much, Rhortigern might have asked what that was about. Instead, he bore a grudge against Vackhem in every scar and brand the latter inflicted upon him. At times, he wished he had starved to death in the gutter. The Hunter's Bane Mark tattooed on Rhort's Chest That's not to say his life was completely hell. Though most locals abhorred him for his association with a fiendslayer, there were those among the Talons, the whores, and the outcasts that were friendly with Vackhem and young Rhort in turn. One notable Maggiera was the closest to his teacher and often took care of him while the old man was away on a hunt or during the undead raids. Hell, there were even times when Vackhem threw kind word or two to him. Of course, he learned well enough not to get too attached to anyone. Death was so common that bonds were more of a liability than an asset. Best way to cope was to drink, gamble, and bed with any willing partner of the night because it might always be his last. Finally came the day when Vackhem walked out of the cabin with these parting words: "I taught you everything you need to know to survive. Now, you just need to master them and you just might live something that could be called a life. I am taking my leave now. If we meet again, you'll probably have to kill me. Hopefully you hate me enough to do it!" With that, the his mentor just abandoned him. At first, Rhort thought the old man had just abandoned him. However, he later learned the fiendslayer went vanished altogether. This was not uncommon in these lands. Between the creatures of Dread, evil cultists, and the regular undead incursions, missing persons were as normal rain. Yet a man as seasoned as Vackhem would never perish without a fight. The day he disappeared was one of those rare halcyon days. Few people cared to learn what happened to the old fiendslayer and none knew what had actually happened to him. In the end, Rhortigern shrugged and took up his mentor's surname and occupation. What else could he do? His fate was sealed the moment the Mists took him. At least, this gave him a chance at survival. Truths, Rumors, and Lies: They say he managed kill a revenant using nothing more than a dagger while naked. He may have burnt down an entire orphanage with the orphans still in it. Rumor has it that he uses the blood of virgins to fuel his powers. Muscic: Deity: "WHAT ARE GODS? Eh?! I've asked plenty of holy men that and all I get is some-*hic*-some yarn about how the gods are mysterious or ineffable. I've heard stories about the most p-pious man in the who geeeeetss eaten by what used to be his wife and daughters'th. I don't know what the gods are *hic* but I'll tell you what they're not: They're not here in muck with uh-us! 'm apparently dam-NED just for having this mark on my chest, but its done more to keep me alive than any prayer for that man. So show me a god that doesn't sith on his asrse and maybe I'll consider making a prayer or two for...for....ughhhh" Is Might Right? "I don't care. All it takes is one slip of the foot, one overlooked detail, one lucky hit, and even the strongest man in Falkovnia will end up a banquet for the things of Dread. I've seen it happen plenty of times." Connections: Vackhem Vanhaldred Vackhem Vanhaldred - The old fiendslayer that brought him up. Rhortigern has mixed feelings about his former mentor. On the one hand, he was a brutal figure who would initiate the lad in the techniques of blood arts in trial by fire. On the other hand, it was that training that has allowed Rhort to survive in Falkovnia for so long. On the other other hand, calling that a good thing is questionable at best. The reputation of Vanhaldred's name has allowed Rhortigern to operate with some agency. As long as he participated in fighting off the horde, he can take contracts as he pleased. However, it is only a matter of time before he is pressed into regular service by the Talons. The elder's parting words trouble him. Part of him hopes that it was just senility finally settling in. At his heart, however, Rhortigern knows that they pertain to whatever doom was troubling Vackhem. What he truly fears in their eventual reunion is learning that he too may share his mentor's fate. Maggiera "Madcat Maggy" Gretchford - The Madam of the Nesting Respite, a bordello in Falkovnia. She was the closest thing to a mother that Rhortigern had growing up and probably the only reason he did not become a completely hateful bastard. Maggiera Gretchford Out of everyone, Maggiera probably knew Vackhem the best and Rhort suspected their relationship was much more than genial, though he never cared to learn more. Even after his old man's disappearance, she continues to support him by giving him a spare bed, boarding, and tips of potential jobs. Rumor has it, she used to be a tramp called "Madcat Maggie".

Haakon Valdemar IV, Antipathetic Ascetic Darkest Dungeon Occultist Diablo 4 Sorcerer (Sand-Worn Armor) Name: Haakon Valdemar IV Character Concept: The Scales Made Flesh. Just as people are prone to repay kindness with kindness, they are also prone to pay evil unto evil. Haakon believes he is born to bring balance to the cosmic scale. Lineage, Background, Subclass, Class: Variant Human Lorehold Student Abjuration Wizard Description: The first things about him that jump at you are his pupil-less white eyes and the ornamented skull he carries around. His build is that of a typical man who exercises and trains regularly, except for his abdomen and waist, which appear out of proportion and emaciated. He wears yellowed saffron robes with red and black trimming, cinched together around his waist by a leather belt, as well as grey long johns. He adorns himself with a head covering that has been weathered by age and the elements. He sees himself as an extremely altruistic man, fighting mostly for 'the poor and oppressed', as he constantly tries his best to right wrongs and enact precepts. Haakon is aware that he isn't infallible, and frequently questions his decisions to use his powers to tips the scales. His qualms are stoke furthermore by his belief that all forms of affirmations and confirmations are meant to aid a personal journey towards enlightenment, and not to lord over nor harm others. He regularly relies on his worlds traditions and rites to expand his spirituality, and keep his inner neutrality in the face of emotional involvement that may compromise his discipline. Your Character’s Plothook: As a devout follower of the Oathbinder, Haakon worked closely with arbiters, barristers, and counselors. Serving under the Saint of oaths, promises, memory, and vengeance, it didn't occur to him that he too must abide when the bill comes due. After debasing himself in the eyes of his goddess and peers, he ran into a self-imposed exile, lest he meet his end. In his efforts to evade capture, the Mists indulged him and brought him to another world ruled with imperious authority. Past is Prologue: A magical lawyer who got tricked by a simple imp. His pride is his folly. Since his fall, he had been haunted by voices of his comrades, a cacophony calling him a charlatan. He was found nearby the burnt cottage, south-west of Hunger's Hollow, two weeks ago. Immediately pressed into service, he lies about being an ascetic to keep his past to himself. Fears and Failures: Nothing is true. Everything is permitted. Haakon wields his morality like a cudgel. You could break him by excluding him from the ruling class, putting a mirror in front of him, or making it apparent that "the rules are made up and the points do not matter". Touch me not. Physical contact is a basic human need with emotional, mental, and physical benefits, but his upbringing has made him extremely averse to it. People say Haakon once threw himself into a lake after a long day of trying to build up an immunity to every kind of poison he can find. Word is going around that Haakon is 'enchanted' to slowly levitate into the sky should he ever try grave robbing. Deity: Oathbinder. Even after falling from grace, he still devoted to her and her faith. Desperately modelling himself after the prevalent tradition and the status quo, clinging to a flimsy veneer of civility to shield him from harm. He touts and sings the praises of his superiors but is willing to disregard their rules when it fits his purposes. Music: Hands Held High - Linkin Park Mordred's Lullaby - Heather Dale Images: Show this s Even Amundsen - The Pale Woods Aurore Folny - Rowan's Grim Search Mike "Daarken" Lim - Ethereal Armor Personality Traits: I never accept that I'm out of my depth. Knowing things that other people don't know makes me feel special and important. Ideals: Balance. I strive to pay it back, pay it forward. What 'it' is differs from moment to moment. Purpose. I study because there are things I need to know. I'll find my place in the world, and I'll make the world better. Bonds: I have a friendly rival. Only one of us can be the best, and I aim to prove it's me. I joined the [Talons?] to become rich, powerful, and beloved. That's all there is to it. To love and to be loved. Now we work together or die together. Flaws: I am in a bad situation that I caused and is my fault, however I will never admit to my wrongdoings. I am filled with an unexplainable bloodlust. As much as I wanna kill people, I don't wanna see them dead. Stuff s Handbook 4000-SEP-1 General guidelines for exploration: …1.01 You must be equipped with a standard Foundation expedition pack prior to entering the place where names are not allowed. …1.02 Do not consume any food other than the rations included inside the standard Foundation expedition pack. …1.03 Do not bring firearms into the dimension of trees under any circumstances. …1.04 Type 1 subjects must avoid accepting or directly handling that which could be considered a valuable resource. This includes (but is not limited to) forms of currency, precious metals and stones, objects imbued with useful anomalous properties, and well-crafted weaponry. …1.05 Type 2 subjects must avoid any native entities that regard the subject with affection or romantic attraction, and must not give the appearance of reciprocating these feelings in any way. Statements made by a native entity which profess affection or romantic attraction for a Type 2 subject are false. …1.06 Type 3 subjects must avoid partaking in activities that are commonly considered frivolous, luxurious, or physically comforting. This includes (but is not limited to) dancing, smoking, playing with toys, drinking anything other than water, listening to music, and sleeping on a padded surface. …1.07 Structures encountered along the way you must travel may be entered after knocking at the entryway. Leave the structure from where you came. If entering uninvited, do not be discovered. …1.08 If you fall asleep in the woods where rules are paramount, record your dreams. A journal is included in your expedition pack. If you encounter any landmarks or entities similar to a dream you recorded, treat the dream as fact. 4000-SEP-2 Guidelines for interacting with native entities: …2.01 Greet native entities with any formal salutation before engaging in conversation. If female, bow or curtsy. …2.02 Speak in a cordial tone of voice. …2.03 Do not make any statements that you know to be false. …2.04 Do not make disparaging comments about native entities while in their presence. …2.05 Say 'please' and 'thank you' when appropriate. …2.06 Refer to and address native entities using descriptions of their physical appearance, per protocol 4000-Eshu. …2.07 Do not refer to a native entity by a name, title, or designation, even if it introduces itself with such. …2.08 Do not state your name, nickname, codename, alias, or any other personal designation when in the presence of a native entity. …2.09 If a native entity offers to assign you a name, title, or designation, politely decline. …2.10 If a native entity makes a statement in which it addresses or refers to you by a name, title, designation, or anything other than a physical description, ignore the statement as though it had not been spoken. …2.11 If pressed for information that is considered confidential, refuse, briefly apologize and bow. …2.12 If a native entity appears to require your assistance, consider its appearance before choosing to help: ………2.12.A If the entity appears threatening, do whatever is necessary to aid it. ………2.12.B If the entity appears attractive or harmless, do not approach. ………2.12.C: Always feed a native entity if it is hungry. This overrules 2.12.B. …2.13 Do not attempt to mount any bestial entities you encounter unless it has earned your trust and given you its consent. …2.14 If you are offered a physical gift, receive it with both hands. Do not discard this gift, even if it appears to have no use or value. This is overruled by 1.04. …2.15 If a native entity offers you a nonphysical gift or attempts to initiate a trade, politely decline. …2.16 You may accept food offered by native entities, and offer that food to other native entities you encounter, but do not consume it yourself. …2.17 Do not sleep in any lodging offered by native entities. You may sleep inside the residence of a native entity as long as you do not have an invitation to do so. …2.18 If a native entity offers to accompany on your journey, accept, but do not tell them where you are going. …2.19 If you are aided by a native entity, you must aid it in return if you have not done so already. …2.20 If you encounter an incorporeal humanoid that claims it is not a native entity, disregard all previous protocols and follow its instructions. Can you truly celebrate something if you have shame about it? Not in this town. Not in these days. You learn something everyday and I was not prepared for today’s lesson. The best compliments you can get are from idiots. The hangman is hungry. "I wish it need not have happened in my time," said Frodo. "So do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."

Rurik Eversharp - Gold (Hill) Dwarf Sage Knowledge Cleric of Dugmaren Brightmantle Name: Rurik Eversharp Character Concept: Fussy dwarven scholar seeking out his master, who disappeared in Waterdeep while searching for the legacy of Clan Melairkyn. Race, Background, Subclass Class: Hill Dwarf, Sage, Knowledge Cleric Description: Rurik looks pretty much as what you'd expect if you'd stuffed a scholar into armor - the thick reading glasses and finely combed (and faintly bluish) hair and beard cut a sharp contrast to the mail worn over his vestments. Thankfully, a combination of dwarven heartiness and careful grooming lets him (mostly) look refined rather than dorkish. ...which is a good thing, because those first impressions go right out the window the moment he opens his mouth. Anything beyond a basic conversation tends to dissolve into jargon or awkward stammering if Rurik isn't careful. It's been something he's been trying (and failing) to fix for years. Origin: Eartheart, in the Deep Rift of Southern Faerun. Your Character’s Plothook: Rurik has contacted Obaya Uday, Chultan priestess of Waukeen, regarding possible expeditions into Undermountain. Past is Prologue Rurik Eversharp was born in Eartheart, the city founded in the Deep Rift after the gold dwarves lost their original capital of Underhome to the Spellplague. Having lost his parents at a young age to a mining accident, Rurik was taken in by Baeridd Goldfinder, a senior priest of Dugmaren Brightmantle. Being raised by a devotee of the Wandering Tinkerer encouraged Rurik's own inquisitive nature to shine - it was little surprise to anyone that he would follow in his mentor's footsteps and join the clergy. Clerics of Dugmaren Brightmantle are both scholar and acolyte, with a mania for gathering various forms of knowledge for use in bettering the lives of the Stout Folk. Baeridd's own specialty was history (a field which Rurik also shared), and the elder priest would often spend weeks away on expeditions to old ruins and esoteric libraries like Candlekeep once Rurik was old enough to take care of himself. Baeridd never returned from his last expedition, however. He'd sent his last letter from distant Waterdeep months ago, and had not been heard from since. Rurik had never been allowed to follow his mentor on his previous trips due to his age and ongoing studies, but now as a freshly ordained (if junior) member of the priesthood, he could depart on his own research trips (within reasonable means) if he so chose. Having learnt of a new expedition to Undermountain being sponsored by one of the Merchant Princes of Chult, Rurik made plans to travel to Port Nyanzaru and then onwards to Waterdeep, in order to find Baeridd and learn what he'd discovered... Truths, Rumors, and Lies: Rurik once bored a colleague to death while presenting his latest research. "T-that is complete slander. It's not my fault that he choked on his mead while I was defending my thesis on the fall of Underhome. What self-respecting dwarf can't handle their drink in the lecture room, anyway?” (when asked if said colleague did drown on his drink) "...we ended up paying for the Searching Sage to revivify him." Verdict - Technically correct (the best kind of correct). Rurik once single-handedly shored up a collapsing tunnel with nothing but a few pitons and rope. "An exaggeration. I was merely explaining to the Lantanese delegation in detail on the upkeep of our tunnels. Not every mine has Gondsmiths on hand to build and maintain nimblewrights, and the miners will complain if we don't provide them with easily scaleable solutions. If Master Goldfinder hadn't pulled me away, I would have filled their ears for another hour..." Verdict - False. Rurik is rumored to have gnomish ancestry in his family tree. "I believe that you are discriminating against me for my mode of speech, which is not uncommon amongst xothor - devotees of the Gleam in the Eye like myself. Or for my hair color, which can be a mark of magical energies from the Underchasm. I will not speak further on this." Verdict - Uncertain. Deity: Rurik is a Questing Wanderer, one of the junior priests of Dugmaren Brightmantle, the dwarven deity of learning, innovation, and discovery. Factions: As a priest of a goodly deity of knowledge, Rurik may well catch the eye of the Harpers, depending on his actions. Is Might Right? Might is but one means to an end, but wisdom is knowing when it is needed over a finer touch. Starting Bonus Feat Skilled