3. Character profiles

Character profiles

  • ?

    Allorkith Onnagh

    About 1.67m tall
    Weighing around 60 kg
    Her age could be guessed around 18 human years

    Some muscles under those Magerobes
    Skin a bit darker, i.e. quite tanned
    Hair seemingly black, a dark, but strong purple 'shining' in sunlight
    On the back of her left hand with a symbol: in purplish colors
    Another one around the left arm, colors same, in shape of chaotic spirals and lines, forming an odd shape
    Her eyes are a dark, deep, but strong purple.
    Her features strengthen that exotic sense about her. Yet she could be still overseen in a mass of people.

    She often looks to the skies, searching. She talks seemingly to herself somtimes…

    She is very loayal to her Goddess, always awaitng the next test set upon her. She would do anything that her Lady would wish of her.
    That makes her sometimes seem cold, or the like.
    Everyone she appraoches to talk will be spoken to with caution. Everyone attempting to chat with her will be watched carefully with those mysterious eyes.
    If someone approahes her with a drawn weapon, don't be surprised if she draws her daggers... or casts a spell.
    Since she is far away from her home (which is actually on another plane) and the regions she is familliar with, she explores the nearer area until she is sure to know what is around her. But this also makes her very cautious of many things...

    (Okay, that's all i could think of...)

  • ?

    Miiya

    Miiya is about 4'9" and is small and lithe elf. She has short red hair, often with flowers and/or leaves in it. Her eyes are a very clear bright green.

    -Generally happy miiya is almost always smiling and giggling. She is a very compassionate person, wanting to help others when she can. Loves nature (druid hehe) and is always happier when it rains.

    -Shy, friendly, and kind Miiya does best in small groups of people, clamming up when in a crowd. She is also timid and can be scared easily.

    -She is naturally innocent, and knows little of the "civilized world" which makes her seem rather naive as well.

    -Speaks broken Common and Elven (never had a chance to learn till recently), speaks Sylvan as well as Druidic fluently (what she used growing up). And she cant read or write.

  • C

    Noril is an interresting fellow. Quite young at 20 years of age, he can be hard headed at times(which seems to come from his human side) and yet sometimes wise beyond his years(possibly from his elven half). As you may have gathered he is a half-elf, with a human father and elven mother. He comes from a secretive community of woodlanders deep in the Rawlinswood made up of almost entirely humans. His mother, Shi'amir, left when he was very young due to prejudice in this group not wishing to bring any hatred upon her son and he was therefore raised by his father Tamar. He learned to use a bow at an early age and has therefore become very proficient in their use. He holds a great hatred for goblins due to the intermitant raids they led against his people. He led a satisfied if rather dull life here until he was 18. This is when the troubles began…..

    The elder of the community passed away from an unidentified sickness with very little warning and without naming his successor for leadership of the tribe. Noril's father would have been the best choice for the new leader and it would have been so if not for his long time rival Jahgad having played on the people's fear of other races. He made the critical points of Tamar having bedded an elf and having a half-elven son. Tamar did not fight the decision of Jahgad as the new leader though it was not in the best interest of the tribe. Noril however did not except this so willingly and began arguing with Jahgad and these fights grew more and more heated. One night several choice words were exchanged between them and they came to blows. Shortly after this Noril decided it was time to find his own way in life and after packing and saying goodbye to his father he set out to find a new home. Luckily he managed to survive long enough to find the Gypsies Camp and found it to be a good place for his new life to begin.

    The rest is currently unfolding as I write this 😎

    CyberJesterB,
    Noril Swift

  • ?

    VITALS

    Name: Vormav D'Fyr
    Race: Human
    Age: Roughly 20
    Birthplace and Date: Unknown
    Occupation: Vagabond

    Vormav is of average height and weight for his age and race. His left and right ears are missing flesh, giving a warped pointed look to them. He is an albino, possessing no body hair or pigmentation whatsoever. He prefers to hide his face and head in a deep hood, but often goes shirtless. His muscles aren't the large powerful ones of a weightlifter, but the lithe ropey muscles of a bare knuckles boxer, or a runner. Vormav is heavily branded, and at first glance looks tatood. Until very recently he has lived with no tongue, and thus not spoken. A powerful cleric of Vormav's god recently healed his old wound, gifting him the speech he hasn't had for most of his life. He is accustomed to being silent, and often forgets he can speak. Instead he falls back on silence and gestures out of habit.

    HISTORY

    Vormav's parents had given birth to a freak they thought. No hair out of the womb. Terribly pale and with huge ears, slightly deformed as to add a pointed quallity to them. Not the graceful ears of elvish blood, ears that looked to have been gnawed by a dog. They first thought him dead before he began crying. The cleric who had come to assist the midwife in birthing the child, and bless him in the name of Tyr, left promptly after pronouncing the child daft and an albino. Drowning was what he recommended. It was the humane thing to do.

    His mother wouldn't hear of it. And insisted on raising him along side his brother's and sister's as best she could. She was the only one who loved him. The rest of his family simply called him "the albino." And this when being polite. He spoke very little, even being intelligent enough at a young age to hide how much he could speak and how much he did understand. Best people thought him slow and left him alone.

    Vormav was taken at an early age from his family. Kidnapped while playing on the edge of his father's property. He was taken by a motley band of men and women. Some human, most not. They worked in a small team, he was to make seven if one could count the boy as a member of the gang.

    He was a slave plain and simple. As they traveled he was to be their beast of burden, and when they stopped theit servant in whatever needed doing. Noone paid attention to a child. Especially if the child was clean, well behaved, and quiet. To this end the group removed Vormav's tongue.

    They traveled form town to town, doing from what he could tell, alot of drinking. They sat in inns getting very medicated and listening to gossip. Before too long he figured out they brokered in information and subtle coercion based upon what they had learned.

    They expected him to march many miles in a day, keeping up with them and carrying the heaviest packs. All while keeping silent and observant of his surroundings. They would pounce on him and demand to know the number of trees in a particular copse to his immediate right, covering up his eyes. Wrong answers yielded brutal beatings. They would subject him to no end of physical pain for no reason whatsoever. Often inflicting a particular wound just so he would "know how it would feel." These trials went on and on. Reading and writing, extensive hand to hand combat, endurance drills. They wore him out from dawn until dusk every day, and sometimes more than that. Never with a word of explanation.

    For many years he lived this way. Building up his body, his mind, his discpline. Over time the gang believed Vormav was like family to them. And so came his initiation. Colored metal brands were heated and pressed against his flesh. Leaving markings covering most of his body. He was now one of the group. An explanation after all of these years.

    The very next mission required seven people to all be in on the plan and attuned to one another. Vormav's job was very simple, he was a lookout. He watched safely and quietly as the town watch signaled each other silently. He watched coldly and knowingly as they pushed wagons with heavily greased hinges up to the warehouse doors. He observed secreted away in the shadows as the men pitched buckets of oil all over the building, and set it ablaze. He turned to leave, able to feel the heat on his skin and hear the screams on the wind.

    Vormav wasn't the blindly loyal, simple minded thing they had trained. He had listened in those inns too. He had left missives and bribed innkeeps alongside them. He had read the scrolls and the secret teachings in the packs they all carried. He had learned of the Divine. The forces in everything and how to manipulate them. And he certainly wasn't family. Not to them, not to anyone.

    Vormav wandered after that. Craving a structured life. Order in some way, yet finding nothing worth pledging himself to. He worked as a mercenary in various skirmishes. Whatever put food in his belly. Recently he has been seen in the Norwick area, staying forever on the outskirts of conversations and groups, never feeling he has a place to belong.

    -Vormav doesn't relate well to people.

    -He often is staring off into space unless engaged in something, or someone is speaking to him.

    -He is very direct.

    -He will often go to unreasonable extremes or expose himself to injury more readily than another person.

    -He has never had any romantic encounters with the opposite sex, and thus isn't mentally equipped to handle anything resembling companionship. Which isn't to say he is devoid of such feelings.

  • ?

    Kallie Fettiams

    He is a human of 1´78 meters long, he is also strong.

    He likes fishing, hunting, talking with the friends… but when someone is in danger he will do anything to help. He uses the powers Sylvanus give him, to protec inocents and to figh agains darkness.

    He comes from the lands near the spine of the world... he used to live in the Hight forest where he became a Silvanus cleric. His fathers died and two elves save him from diying in the woods... then they became his fathers and they make him learn all about the wood, Sylvanus and many Magic spells. Years later he the elves told him his past and he started a travel in search of his dead fathers thinking they could be alive. he met many people and learn how to move in the cities and how to treat with humans. One day talking to an orc he discobered that orcs where the ones who killed his family and that change his live... he started to kill orcs... But then he realized that there where many orcs in the world and that they weren´t all evil since then he has been fighting only evil forces and now he has discovered Narfell he thinks it is a good place to live, but will he be able to survive.....

  • ?

    Boon Wyrmbane (Background)

    Boon stands 6'3" tall, weighing a very fit 215 pounds, with somewhat pale skin. He is 23 years of age, but already frown marks have put undue creases in his visage, making him look older. He has trained since birth in the art of swordplay, and moves with a grace and stealth that belie his size. He is slow to trust, and becoming more so. Taciturn, Boon will stare into your eyes before speaking, as if gaging the worth of your very soul. A peculiar wound, though often covered, can be seen at the base of his throat. When angered, or in the heat of battle, this recently healed wound pulses redly, as if heeding a call of it's own.

    What We Know of Boon's Story:

    Born the son of a noble, Boon dropped his original family name soon after tragedy struck.

    Devoted to his mother and sister, his father having fallen in battle, Boon assumed the duties of a lord, maintaining the household as well as the surrounding lands. Always finding time to train, Boon practiced constantly with sword and bow. He also often hunted with Garrick, master of the kennel, so that the ways of the forest became like a second home.

    As would be expected, suitors came often, as both Boon's mother and sister were fair to look upon, but no one caught either lady's fancy…..much to Boon's relief. Then came the day He was admitted, smelling of perfume, charming both women with flowery words and charming smiles. Too late, did Boon notice these smiles were never reflected in Its eyes.

    In the Thing's presence, both women changed, fawning over the newcomer, but neglecting both themselves and their duties. Their eyes became vacant, their skin pale and unhealthy. Oblivious to the cause at hand, Boon begged his mother and sister to see a healer, but both women assured him they just needed rest and the soothing dreams that came. Not knowing what the ladies meant, Boon was indecisive.....and thus lost everything.

    The Thing, who by now had become a trusted advisor and confidant, tried to ease Boon's fears, assuring him the ladies would be fine, urging Boon to take his mind off matters by joining the latest Great Hunt, set to begin that day. Boon finally, although reluctantly agreed, but only after gaining his advisor's promise that his mother and sister would be watched carefully and word to be sent if there was any change.

    "Oh yes, but of course," the Thing had whispered in reply, smiling.

    One day into the hunt, Boon could no longer ignore the pangs of worry that wracked his soul. Away from the Keep, Boon began to remember things that had heretofor gone unnoticed. Oddly phrased words and directions, given by his "advisor". How Its perfumed smell seemed to fade at times, replaced by a putrid stench, that was then gone again before actually noticed. But above all, it was the smile.

    Beckoning Garrick, Boon raced with his friend back to the Keep, arriving well into the night. At his first sight, carnage assailed his senses. Blood was spattered everywhere; every man, woman and child had been torn to shreds and tossed aside with careless abandon. Groaning in horror, Boon leaped up the stairs, hoping against hope that there was still time.

    Bursting into the Great Hall, Boon's eyes locked with those of the Thing, now seated at the head of the table, partaking in a grisly feast. Boon's sister lay on the table, bloodless, the flesh torn at her throat, wrists and ankles by the fangs of the five creatures that had evidently fed. But now only He remained, now toying idly with Boon's mother; or rather her naked corpse from which her head lolled grotesquely.

    Roaring in rage, Boon leaped at the offender, sword raised. Garrick too, although shaken, raced at Boon's side. Although bloated and somewhat intoxicated with his meal, the Thing still moved with the speed of thought, lashing out at Garrick with a clawed backhand that sent the man flying into the wall, while catching up Boon's swordarm in the other, swinging him around and almost tearing the arm from the socket. Pinning him easily, the Thing sneered down at Boon.

    "Athough my brothers and sisters have left, I decided to stay, in hopes you would return, " It had whispered, the words echoing within Boon's skull. "So trusting and weak you all have been, so easily fed upon, your insignificance so great, so beneath me. I wanted you to know that, as I bled the last drops from you as my final meal here."

    Unable to move, Boon could but watch as the Thing lowered fangs lowards his throat, arching in pain at his skin was torn, feeling sickened as he felt his life-blood pumping into the Thing's mouth. But at that moment, a flash of silver darted across his vision. Garrick, left for dead, had managed to pull a silver cross from the wall and, with what must have been his last breath, had stabbed it sideways into the Thing's neck, dark blood spattering as the tip erupted from the other side.

    Enraged, staggering, the Thing turned on Garrick, breaking the neck of the already lifeless body. Through blood hazed eyes, Boon saw the sorely wounded creature pause once, then flee out onto the balcony and into the night. Darkness then flooded Boon.

    When he awoke, Boon carefully wrapped the wound at his throat, squinting at the bright sunlight. He then gathered the bodies of all the dead, placing them within the Great Hall, before firing the Keep. Riding away, the towering flames scorching his back, Boon kept his eyes on the road ahead.

    A new hunt had begun.

  • ?

    Aniril Linariae

    See History forum….

  • ?

    Alessan

    Alessan is a wandering half-elf in the late twenties. His mother was a young Gold Elf wizard who prefered the arcane studies to her son and he never met his human father. All he know about him is that he rejected both of them for obscure reasons and left the elven village.

    So Alessan grew up lonely among the other Elves. He was only too aware of what his companions called harshly his human taint, in a way that made him despise both Humans and Elves. Even his mother never fully accepted him as he was part of her broken heart. Nevertheless he was brilliant and learned the lessons of the wise and developped a taste for songs. He especially liked the ones who spoke of faraway lands. So he made his own flute and started playing and composing.

    At the age of 22, he was fully mature while his fellow elves were still children. On a moonless nights, he departed without saying his farewell to anyone and never came back to the village. All he took with him was his flute and a piece of bread. He went on and on for years, never staying too long in one place. He made a living mostly by playing in the streets for copper coins. He learned many things during his many trips and soon acquired many skills apart from music, making him some sort of jack-of-all-trades.

    Now you know most about Alessan's life. One thing you don't and that many do not, is his real name… He changed it from the start of his endless travelings to Alessan for personal reasons.

    -Personality traits:
    *Very secretive, though not shy. More from lack of self-esteem.
    *Suffers from wanderlust. Prefers action to boredom.
    *Exuberant, playful and original.
    *Takes time to make real friends, but doesn't forget them.
    *Tends to hold grudges.
    *Dislikes authority and traditions.

  • ?

    Arashika Skar

    **[Appearance

    Arashika is a mountain of a woman, standing nearly 7 feet tall, broad-shouldered and thick-waisted. Her heavily muscled thighs are as big around as a normal man's waist and her hands are the size of small frying pans. When armored and helmed, she is often mistaken for a man…although addressing her as "Mr." or "Sir" is a good way to draw her ire. On the rare occassions that she doesn't wear armor, her massive muscles are evident under her plain tunic.

    Her broad face, flat nose and nascent tusks loudly proclaim her half-orc heritage. Lank, black hair frames the visage that only an orcish mother could love and she usually wears her hair caught back in a simple pony tail or with a braid down either cheek (provided her friend Horbag is about to braid it for her). When excited, happy or hungry, she tends to drool excessively from the left side of her mouth. Those standing too close risk a shower of spittle from her frequent roars of laughter.

    Her voice is a throaty growl and she tends to add "s" or "z" sounds to the end of words when she speaks heavily accented common. Her voice tends to rise on octave or two when she is excited or angry and sounds like a steel blade being drawn across a sharpening stone. She likes to sing (unfortunately for those around her), but her voice has been likened to the sound of 2 cats either mating or fighting. What she lacks in musical talent, she more than makes up for in enthusiasm and her friends joke that the quickest way to free up table space in a tavern is to let Arashika sing a bit (said safely behind her back, of course).](f8fe74c744) **[Mannerisms

    • She frequently stops and sniffs the air around her (whether she actually has an heightened sense of smell or not is unknown).

    • She addresses all other half-orcs as "Cousin", whether they are related or not.

    • If nervous or feeling threatened, her hand grasps the worn hilt of her longsword.

    • She is rarely seen without armor on, especially since she commissioned a suit of custom bronze armor from Red John.

    • She has been known to strip of her clothes, produce a bar of pungent soap and take a "natural" shower during the all to frequent rain storms in Narfell (much to the embarrassment and chagrin of others present).

    • She usually addresses known acquaintences with the preface "friend" and refers to herself often in the third person. She usually addresses those in obvious positions of authority with the appelate "Mr." or "Lady", depending on sex.

    • She scratches her head when confused (an all to frequent occurance) and might absentmindedly pinch and eat an unfortunate lice or three.](f8fe74c744) **[History

    Arashika ("Ara" for short to friends) is somewhat closed-mouthed about her life before arriving in Norwick about 8 winters ago at the age of 10, stowed away in a trading caravan. Little bits and pieces have slipped out…a small farming village in Damara, a "beautiful" mother who was always sad and not quite right in the head, an "accident" involving a boy from an important family and a hurried flight from that quaint farming village.

    Arriving in little more than a threadbare tunic, rope belt and worn shoes 2 sizes too small, she eeked out a living doing odd jobs around town. No task was too menial or dirty, as long as she got something resembling food and a dry place to sleep. Once she discovered the steady supply of rats in Wald's warehouse, she seldom went hungry! Barle finally hired her on as "chief scullery maid" when she was about 14 winters old, letting her sleep in the woodshed or in an unused corner of the Boarshead Inn. She was often teased about her homely looks by the youths of Norwick, but they soon learned to avoid pushing her too far, since a single blow from her fist could easily send one to the Friar's.

    The steady flow of adventurers, bards and others soon whet her appetite for more than just kitchen scraps, curses and the occassional flogging. Many nights, she would fall asleep in a corner of the inn, visions of heroic quests conjured by a bard's tale flitting through her mind. She began to run errands for adventurers, asking only for cast off equipment in return. Eventually, she gathered enough gear to bid Barle farewell and strike out on her own.

    Conditioned by ridicule and rejection, she initially tried solo forays into the goblin warrens. After several brushes with death and the kindness of Dirtma, Thrade, Zoma and others, she began to open herself up slightly and join others on hunting forays. Gradually, she built up a wide network of acquaintances and has come to truly care for her adopted home town of Norwick. Although some still reject her out of hand due to her orcish heritage, she has learned that many others value her companionship.

    Her fighting skill and raw strength are now valued by those that know her and she often travels between Norwick and Jiyyd; escorting newcomers, sweeping the southern pass clean of bandit patrols and gleefully bashing her full-blooded kin on the approaches to Jiyyd. She also hires out as a guard or ore-hauler for mining expeditions.](f8fe74c744) **[Personality

    Her tough and somewhat gruff exterior guards a more sensitive "inner Arashika". She desperately seeks approval from "heroes" that she idolizes, sometimes to the point of being a bit annoying. Current and past heroes include: Call Sanner, Braeth, Commander Vani and Thorvin Bloodaxe. When she discovers one of her "heroes" has a flaw, she becomes quite disillusioned for a bit. She remembers both kindness and hurts done to her and will seek to repay both many times over.

    She has a soft spot in her heart for both hin and gnomes, often seeing herself as their unofficial protector (most likely a "size" thing). She also goes out of her way to make friends with most animal companions and familiers, always keeping a pouch of "delicacies" on her.

    Her years of coping with abuse and distrust have made her thick-skinned over most insults, so she is slow to anger. Once her wrath is aroused, however, it is a terrible sight to behold. She will throw herself into action with little thought of personal safety and, deep inside, she really enjoys a good fight.

    Her leisure time revolves around quaffing ale, telling bawdy jokes and flirting outrageously with the likes of Damarcus and Red John. Recently, she has taken up both wood and iron-crafting, but it remains to be seen whether she will stick with either long enough to become more than an apprentice. She fancies herself a bit more clever than she is and tends to throw herself into projects without fully thinking them through. Her most recent project is the "Ratz n' Batz Snak Shakz", opened in conjunction with "cousin" Horbag…

    Serving all manner of delicacies (at least from her viewpoint), she feels it will make a fortune. Whether Norwick and the rest of Narfell are ready for a steady diet of "ratz on a stick" and "barbaqued bat wingz" remains to be seen!](f8fe74c744)********

  • ?

    Name: Naurhir
    Place of Birth: Beregost
    Age: 20
    Character Class: Monk
    Character Race: Half-Elf
    Current Home: Norwick
    Alignment: Lawful Neutral
    Goddess of Worship: None, though heavilly influenced by Helm.

    Naurhir is a Half-Elven Monk….
    The thoughts pass in your mind, do Half-Elves really become monks? Are not all monks of the old orders full-blood human? The only answer which surfaces in your mind is that this monk before you is unique.

    Conceived from the forbidden love of a devout Paladin of Helm, and an elven tavernmaid of Beregost; he was shunned by the Order of the Radiant Heart, and unloved by the elves of Suldanessellar, his parents had no choice but to release him into a friend's custody.

    The friend, good-natured though unsure of what to do, sought out guidance from his village elders. Through their combined wisdom, they discerned that the one place such a child could be safe, is with the Monks of the Old Order, in the distant mountains. Long and arduous was the journey, but the day came that Naurhir's path in life was sealed.

    In the care of the monks, Naurhir was instructed in all of the disciplines of their lifestyle, he soon became a master of Zen Buddhism, and an adept channeler of Ki. He excelled above the other apprentices, and became the most promised pupil his master has ever had. The years have passed, and now it is time for him to roam Faerun.

    Though shunned by most he meets, Naurhir continues to journey on disregarding the cruelness of others in search for that which is the meaning of his life...
    Seeking Enlightenment.

  • ?

    Name: Kalindra (Kali) Sulfox
    Place of Birth: Bengoht, a small village south of Dharvil
    Age: 20
    Character Class: Rogue/Druid
    Character Race: Halfling
    Current Home: The Gypsy Camp
    Alignment: True Neutral
    Goddess of Worship: Considering Tymora

    Appearance:
    Kali is a fiesty young red head with emerald green eyes and nice tan skin. Her well defined muscles come from hard practice with her bow and many long hikes through the mountains. Her body is decorated with soft tattoos on both arms, legs, and her back. They are rarely seen though, just like the bright smile she conceals beneath her veil.

    Personality:

    • Kali was born to a very high standing political family within her village. She was educated and raised according to the high expectations of her parents.

    • Kali lives for adventure. She has never cared for the political dealings of her family. She has always dreamed of a life of travel and extremes.

    • She is always the first to join a hunt, and usually the first to get herself into trouble as well. She has a hard time knowing her limits and most of the time will bite off more than she can chew.

    • When she was little, she was gawked at constantly because of her etreme beauty, and because of that, she now wears a hood and veil to cover her features. She wants to be known for her personality and abilities rather than her appearance.

    • She is most of the time, easily trusting of those who are nice to her.

    • Her rebellious nature clashes a lot with her political upbringing. While she knows and respects certain formalities, she also doesnt put up with idiots for long.

    • Her red hair can sometimes mirror her red-hot temper, though she is getting better at keeping the flames at bay.

    • She is very goal driven. When she sets her mind to do something, she uually goes after it right then.

    Storyline:
    Kali was born to a noble family in her village of Bengoht. Bengoht is mostly just a stop for travellers on their way to Dharvil. Because of its frequent visits from outsiders, Bengoht is home to many various races, all who most of the time coincide peacefully together. Kali's family held very high political power, and controlled a fair percentage of the trade and prices in the market.

    Growing up, Kali had many tutors, one of which she was very fond of. Whispen was like a second mother to her, and Kali always looked forward to the days when she would go to her house for lessons. Whispen had a son named Mirshan who was about Kali's age, and the two were almost inseparable at times.

    As Kali grew older, she soon realized she was in love with Mirshan, and found out that he felt the same for her. They had planned to marry someday, but knew it would be complicated considering Mirshan's social status was much lower than Kali's.

    Shortly before Kali's 20th birthday, her parents surprised her by promising her in marriage to a rather vicious drow in the village who had more political power than Kali's family. This of course upsetted her very much and she rebelled against her parents by telling them of her love of Mirshan and how she longed to marry him. Her family was outraged! Kali was forbidden to see or speak with Mirshan at all. However, Kali found ways of sneaking out and meeting Mirshan late at night.

    As the wedding plans progressed, the drow, sensing something not right with his bride-to-be started to keep a close eye on Kali's activities. He followed her one night as she crept down to the river behind her home to meet Mirshan. The drow was outraged at what had been going on behind his back and challenged Mirshan to a fight. Mirshan, not wanting to let Kali down, and seeing this as a way for both of them to be free to love again, accepted the challenge.

    The two fought long and hard into the night, with Kali keeping a close watch from a distance. She had been forbidden to attend the fight, as her beauty serves up too much of a distraction. During the fight, the drow gained the upper hand and killed Mirshan. In her horror and fear, Kali could only do one thing…RUN!

    She went back to her house and gathered up only what she could carry, this included the bow that Mirshan had helped her practice with when they were younger, and she left her village.

    After several days of walking, she came upon a camp full of outcasts and adventurers like herself. With the loss of Mirshan still weighing heavy on her heart, she decided to stay in the camp and get to know the people there. Perhaps she could find a home among these people and escape the past she left behind.

  • ?

    Character Name: Caramip Sventien
    Birthplace: Thesk but believes to be Thay
    Character Occupation: Warrior of Bane
    Age: 45 (quite young for a gnome)
    Alignment: Lawful Evil
    God of Worship: Bane

    Appearance:

    Taller then most gnomes females, she goes up to about 3'7 making her the hieght of a gnome male. Also, weighing 48 pounds because of her muscle. She has red hair with black eyes, and quite pretty for a gnome aside from the battle scars. A small tattoo is in place on her left shoulder representing the "The Black Hand". Also, many whip lashes are shown on her back.

    Personality/History:

    -"Destroy all who oppose Bane. Fear Bane and make others fear him even more then you do…" are the words that she was compelled to repeat at the Cabal of Darkness, located in Thay, home of the Red Wizards. At the Cabal of Darkness Caramip was trained to kill and murder in the name of Bane. But, She was often the target of much pain, whipped and beaten due to her lack of understanding and willpower, as only those that understand faith and worship Bane properly. She couldn't cast any spells or couldn't be a cleric, thus, they tried to beat some willpower into her and perhaps some intellect.

    -Caramip enjoyed the disipline given by her masters; she has a love for following commands from people, doing their bidding to the best of her ability. A pawn really, but she wishes to be a strong pawn in that respect. Those who cast magic she will follow their commands, as her Banite masters casted magic also. But only if they do not oppose Bane.

    -She was often made fun by her Banite masters, thus she harbored her hatred for them inside of herself, and releasing it on those she is ordered to kill, showing no mercy. Her absorbtion of insults shows when people call her stupid and she remains completely silent, showing no emotion, as that was always best when her masters ridiculed her.

    -During the days at the Cabal, she had people who she admired, who were friends with her, or who she loved. However, over-time, many of her friends were executed, killed in front of her eyes by her cruel masters. "They were weak Caramip and slowed you down. The Lord of Darkness will compell their souls..." was something she heard too often until she wished to have no more friends. Now, everyone who considers her a friend she considers them an "Ally" instead, and when these "Allies" die she just curses, sighs, and moves on. "Friends bring pain, pain is a weakness to be overcomed."

    -Despite her love of orders, she has one order that was given to her by her Banite masters,"Slowly and surely conquer Narfell and hand it over to Bane." However, her masters don't truly expect her to do this, this was more of a suicide mission.

    -The reason because is that she was very enthusiastic about going, and, her fellow Banites were fed up with her; not only was she rash, dumb, and couldn't follow anymore then 2 orders, she had an annoying habit of saying far too much at the wrong times, which not only got her into trouble but some powerful people too, whom were beatening because of her ramblings.

    So finally, they sent her to Narfell to die, in a sense. However, they really have nothing to lose and a potential gain. The Clergy in the Cabal of Darkness will see how this unfolds.

  • ?

    Character Name: Rego Jatle
    Character Heritage: Unknown
    **Character Occupation:**Romni/Gypsy
    Character Age at Induction into the Camp: According to Katya, 2
    Birthdate: Truely Unknown, though it's celebrated on the day she was found.
    Alignment: Neutral Good
    God of Worship: Tyr

    This small little Halfling may spout a thousand words or a few, but no matter what, her own dialect of common tongue jestfully named "Regonese" will tell you exactly who's talking. Though her speech impediment may be outspoken and the mark of a typical fool, her intellegence shines in her simple and forward logic that is atypical of a simple Romni, or Ro' as she fondly calls them.

    From her preference of light thin boots, preference for tattered clothing that almost doesn't feel like it's there, up to a haircloth that holds back her shoulder lenth dirty blond hair, she seems slightly attractive for a hin, though one of her major obsticles is that which defines the way she is. Her dialect.

    Her demeanor is that of a happy child, always smiling and trying to cheer those around her up. It defies the situation usually, and the times when her smile moves to a different expression is usually the times that she bears her feelings the most. And thus far in her life, the few times she needs to do that, people recognize it, and put all thoughts aside from this small hin of not being a woman of action. This is how Tyr guides her life.. by giving her "Charm", which many would consider healing magics or bravery, and the ability to think through situations and attempt to lead people, whether they like it or not. This also let's another one of her more dangerous traits show to the surface… spontenuety to help others with a LARGE disrespect for the concequences.

    However, as much as Tyr guides her life, the side of duty of her creates a constant conflict within her as her lifestyle that was chosen for her by the fate of her youth.

    At the age of two, her mother was killed, and her father taken by a man that Katya rarely speaks about. Rego was found in the freshly charred ruins of whatever Rego would have had for a home.. and the Romni took her in as one of their own, by the suggestion and guidance of Katya. Throughout her life, the Romni way of peace-keeping and life-fullfillment has influenced Rego to take to their shadier paths. Some would call her a Rogue by instinct... she defiantly calls it "treasure hunting" whenever challenged to defend herself. Though she's able to quell the usual avarice, curiousity and greed that comes from the Rogues typically lonely lifestyle, more probably cause of the teachers themselves. The free-loving Romni.

    Now, who knows what that little rascal is up to, but it seems that she goes on well, striking the hearts of those she can never be with, and making problems that can never be solved or possibly risking dangers that should never be risked. But with this small halfling with the heart of a goddess.. you can guarentee two things. She's probably doing it for someone else, friend or foe... and she's probably touching everyone she meets while she does it.

  • A

    Abell

    **Appearance

    Abell stands a little over 6' tall, he is slender and has an athletic build. He has long unkempt hair, which he often decorates and colours with various items from the wood. His has hazel eyes and always appears calm and relaxed (in a woodland setting). He has a plesent appearance and speaks in a clear, quiet voice.

    **History/Personality

    Abell spent his younger years in a small Elven village deep in a great forest, he was tutored from an early age in the ways of the local Druids, and his love for all of nature grew from there. He always loved to lose himself in the forest for days at a time, surviving on natures bounty and enjoying the simple lifestyle it offered him. On one such venture he came across a young wolf cub, seemingly abandoned by its mother. Abell immediately took a shine to this little creature and took it with him. From that day the two have never left each others side and have grown to become the greatest of friends. He named the young Wolf, Kane. They have since saved one anothers lives countless times. Once the local Druids could teach him no more, the pair left and disappeared into the woods for many years, wandering and living day to day, the basic simple lifestyle appealed greatly, to them both.

    After emerging from the deep wood with his life long friend Kane just over two years ago, Abell spent a time travelling the land of Narfell, unfortunately a quick succession of deaths, and subsequent rebirths took their toll on the young elf. After his final ressurection, he bid fairwell to his good friend Vino Stern and headed once more into the deep wood, with Kane.

    He has spent the last 19 months on 'walkabout', spending his time alone and contemplating his place in the world. In this time Abell has grown spiritually and now emphasises this side of himself far more than he once did. It has brought him closer to the divine and more at ease with life and all it brings.

    He once again has found refuge with the Romni and enjoys their out door lifestyle. He loves their camp as he finds it beautiful and peaceful.

    Abell has a calm aura about him, he often smiles and will do his best try to give sound advice and be a positive influence to all he meets.

    He is uneasy in towns, especially cities and rarely ventures indoors, he feels most at ease when he can see the sky above his head and is surrounded by nature.

    He worships Silvanus, the oak father, the embodiment of nature in its original state, untouched by civilization. He is duty bound to protect its many bounties and maintain the balance using all the powers gifted to him.****


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  • ?

    KROMDOR STORMCRY

    Apperance: 6.3 feet tall, 221 pounds, Kromdor is a strong muscular young man with dark brown hair and seldomly shaves his face exept when it gets too long cause he hates the itching and scratching. He has brown eyes that stares you with confidence but he knows he has much to learn in the free world, so he respects different behaviors save for ignorance. Kromdor also has 2 sets of tatoos explained later.

    History Kromdor was born a slave in an orcish camp and due to his size at birth, the orcs fed him and gave him special privilege, so he could grow at his peek shape and strenght. The orcs gave him a rough education, treating him like an animal so he could develop strong instincts, hatred and anger. The purpose of this was to use him in bloody pit fights for the enjoyment of his orcish slave masters. However the company of other multi-racial slaves and of a perticular old man gave him a strong heart and some education.

    The old man would tell him tales of great adventure, beautifull landscapes and wonderous cities. He told him a bit of his origins since he knew his mother that died some years after his birth. His blood comes from a tribe of brave savage hunters uder the blessings (supposedly) of Uthgar (Uthgardt ?). The tribe was quite isolated so it was easy prey for raiding orcs that pillaged, killed and scattered what was left of the tribe. The children and a few pregnant women were kept for slavery. Although some may think orcs dont keep slaves, this clan did. Why ? or maybe for who ? The old man could not say.

    Many glorious kills against many foes such as men, elves, dwarves, orcs, half-orcs ( all from other slaves and fresh incoming prisoners) and even wild beasts like wolves and wildcats brought him the nick name Stormcry by the Orcs cheering his bloodiness. Stormcry because when fighting Kromdor would enter a raging frenzy and yell so loud that orcs viewed him as loud thunderstorm. One day the orcs prepared a traveling party to bring Kromdor who knows where. Kromdor knew little of his future fate so he decided to take things into his own hands. Inspired by the old man's tales, he manged to escape after what seemed a month of traveling. After 2 days of surviving in the wilderness, he found several bodies of orcs killed after a recent battle. He could even hear the clinging of swords farther in the woods. He quickly grasped what he could especialy the gold knowing its value since he often saw the shiny things being used by orcs in bets for his fights. A day after, Kromdor found a road leading to the town of Jiyyd where he cherished his first days of freedom drowning himself in ale and women ! He is young and has much to learn of this new life not knowing what is next but still, in his blood, the calling of steel and glory is ever present…

    Tatoos

    Kromdor tatoos is the melding of his apperance and history. He has tatoos on his ankles and his forearms. The ones on the ankles are orc made, to mark him as property, so Kromdor takes good care to hide them to pretty much anyone. The ones on his forearms were made by a skillfull gypsie slave. They evoke primal forces of nature. Beasts of raw strenght? Thunder and lightning? Uthgar? Kromdor knows little save that he likes them and reminds him of what he went thru.

  • A

    Wynn Saal

    Appearance

    Wynn is thin, even for a halfling, and of average height. He looks very young, (currently he is 18, but appears no older than 16) and crops his hair very short (he thinks it makes him look older).

    His large, keen bright green eyes are forever darting around, looking for oppotunities not to be missed. He likes clothes with shoulder pads as they make him look tougher.

    Personality/History

    Wynn is an oppotunist, he takes situations as they come and guages his reactions on the danger involved. He is not experienced in combat and prefers to avoid it whenever possible, Wynn is not brave in the slightest, he'd rather run to spend his coin another day.

    He talks alot and often makes grand plans or has ideas to earn some 'easy coin', although being a little lazy he is often more talk than action.

    he gets bored quickly and cannot stand boring repetitive tasks (crafting!), he is easily distracted.

    Growing up in a Poor area of Waterdeep, Wynn is used to relative poverty, he sees his life now as an oppotunity to rise above his standing and, somehow, get rich. Gold is his greatest motivation.

    He does realise the importance of friends and has a friendly demenour, he is usually grinning and smiling. He tends to make light of the current situation and is often quite sarcastic, often joking.

    He is quite intelligent, although doesnt often appear so to others, his lack of life experience sees to that. He does learn quickly and has a nack for all kinds of mechanisms, they fascinate him, his active mind loves to tinker with things, see how they work.

    He does not like the 'orc men' around town, he doesnt trust them at all, he knows what they are capable of, although he has occasionally been surprised by them too.

    He is a good cook, as he trained for a short time in a bakery in Waterdeep, before certain circumstances, and the love of both his hands, forced him to leave and find work abord a merchant vessel, following in his father, and two older brothers foosteps. He has worked as a cook and general cleaner/dogsbody for a number of years, abord a variety of vessels. Not all just merchantmen. He recently returned to Norwick after his second contract abord a merchant vessel based of of Peltarch ended, he also managed to visit his Ma in Waterdeep while away.

    He has two older brothers, Dai and Kai. Three youngers sisters Lena, Messe, and little Treya. Wynn has always been the 'black sheep' of the family, although his mother has a soft spot for him. He always managed to provide what the family need when he was living at home, by whatever means nessesary. His father spent most his time away at sea, so Wynns Ma is both mother and father to him.


  • Nyblas

    Appearance

    Nyblas is a lean, handsome halfling. He's got a muscular body, strengthened by long training with his Big Sword. Of course this is not readily apparent, as he usuall wears the biggest armor possible (currently a chail mail, but he's looking for something Bigger of course).

    His eyes are dark and large, and he seems to be in constant wonder of the things he sees around him.

    He carries his Big Sword strapped on his back, which is merely a bastard sword, which is obviously quite large for a halfling.

    Personality
    Nyblas is a halfling knight of Arvoreen, which in itself is unusual enough. He's loyal and caring, but still filled with halfling eagerness and curiosity.

    As a knight he always is polite, adressing people with titles like "lord" and "lady" no matter what their actual position. He's eager to prove his worth as a knight by protecting those who need it, especially other halflings, of which he considers himself a defender (as is befitting of a follower of Arvoreen).

    He has great pride in his knighthood and physical prowess, but although this can easily be read from his body language, he's not likely to speak proudly, except in honor of his lord and talking of his equipment (Big Sword and Big Armor which he keeps in perfect condition).

    For all his racial curiosity and eagerness, he is mostly busy trying to perfect his skills, wanting to become the quintessential halfling knight, protector of those in need. He considers all other at least his equal, if not his better, and will take any advice and try to learn as much as he can.

    Being busy trying to hold up his honor and protecting where he can, he is completely oblivious to insults and jokes about him, keeping his mind on the business at hand. He's not beyond humor, just takes his honor and business extremely serious.

  • ?

    Remiel (Mercy of God)

    To live life in ignorance is to dismiss the suffering of other people. To live life as an individual capable of empathy and still live in ignorance… that is perhaps the greatest folly of all creation.

    Everyday as I travel these lands I am surrounded by the wearisome: peasants, beggars, vagrants, all with dejected and saddened looks on their faces. Most hide it with a friendly conditioned smile when they look your way, but that doesn't fool me. I've seen the life the poor lead, the struggle they endure.

    I've grieved alongside parents who wept tears at putting their hungry children to sleep because they couldn't afford food for that night. I have witnessed to what lengths of evil the truly impoverished would go in order to secure necessities for themselves and their loved ones. I know how hard simple peasants work for their meager lives, toiling in the fields with the sun scorching their backs as well as their happiness. I have seen the shame in the faces of beggars as they scramble for the few coins that were thrown at them without compassion in a supposed ‘charitable’ act by those more fortunate. I have found dead bodies of the homeless in dark alleys only to wonder how lonely it must have been to die alone, without a single comforting smile to ease the passage.

    I am not special or possess anything more than a caring heart, and it brings rage into my very being to know many people stigmatize the poor and unfortunate, some even use this negative stigma as their argument on why these people should not be helped or even minded. There are the religious who would often justify the poor as a necessity for their pious acts in order to gain favor from their god. Others would just pity them and give handouts to ease their own self conscious.

    I choose not to stigmatize those already befallen of misfortune, I will not consider their existence as martyrdom for my own piety, and I could never pity those who suffer. Instead, I will bestow my utmost honor, through clenched teeth and a crying heart, for their courage in enduring a world so cruelly against them.

    Ilmater! Lend me your strength. My legs falter as I witness the suffering day after day. My heart grows heavy; my mind, weary. The tears I sob have run dry and I have become an empty shell... my life is no longer my own. I offer you my hands and feet, bind them to your will... let me become your servant, a servant of eternal suffrage.

  • J

    Name: Eru'se (Child of god in LotR Elven)
    Race: Wild Elf
    Class: Ranger
    Align: CG
    Skills: Focused in Hide, Move Silently, Listen
    Deity: Shevarash
    Looks: Brown Skin (NOT BLACK) and light brown hair.

    The Skinny:

    Eru'se was born into a small group of wild elves who have been long time servants of Shevarash. This rare community was recruited hundreds of years before by other elves due to their exceptional abilities to hide, fight, and with natural magics. As servants of Shevarash, they are tasked with guarding an access point to the underdark. This group not only protects the surface from raiding parties, but they frequently travel into the Underdark to raid the Drow.

    Eru'se, a child at the time, had taken to stalking his father's party while they were on duty. (Children were generally kept away from the warriors in safer locations for their own protection.) Eru'se couldn't be kept indoors by his caregivers and it was a source of pride for his father that Eru'se could track the guard teams without being noticed. In fact, father and son developed a set of sounds and signals that only they understood. This was an effective way for the father to send the boy back home when the shiznizzle hit fanizzle.

    Eru'se followed his father's group to the opening one night only a few days after a very successful underdark raid. This time though, a very large Drow and goblin party was lying in ambush and destroyed the troop. Eru'se arrived minutes later, cries over his daddy, and then sees the barely visible heat signs leading to the elf encampment. He rushes back only to find a wholesale slaughter. Dead Drow and elf everywhere. The few surviving drow spot him and give chase but he loses them in the forest.

    Distraught, he wanders the land growing more and more feral. Years later (about 20), he arrives near Norwick and takes an observer's point of view of the situation there.

    As a character, he's like a domestic dog turned wild animal. He wanders into town on occasion to sell or buy something quickly and leave. He can understand the language but has trouble speaking it clearly.

    Prefers to stay in the wooded areas and runs away from most people like a squirrel.

    Has faint memories of his past and finds himself intrigued by the people and the things going on in Narfell.

    Has intense hatred for anything evil. Will help others, but generally runs away before they can thank him.

    He is intrigued by civilization and makes frequent forays into town to observe the goings on and listen to conversations.

    He has very few friends in Narfell (only two have actually tried to befriend him) but tends to shadow groups out hunting goblins to see what their intentions are. He also helps protect the good folk from goblins.

    His most powerful memories are the things his father taught him, hunting, survival, fighting, and the tenets of their faith: Kill drow, none can be happy until all the drow are dead.