ArUlric & Friends
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Lady Aspera Chillwind
Titles : Chatelaine of Tor Thanan, Daughter of the House of Chillwind
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Attributes:(After equipment adjustments)
STR 8 : A lady does not trouble herself to wield arms. Better, let the grubby work of combat be left to dwarfs and similar ilk.
DEX 17 : Aspera moves swiftly, and on such occasions as drew a bow, employed it with unusual accuracy.
CON 12 : For all of her frail, birch-like grace, Aspera is not altogether frail, the strong winds biting in the north having hardened her body somewhat to expect the icestorm, or the descending axe. That said, she is hardly a robust dwarf, and is cautious.
WIS 10 : Ambition is rarely tempered with wisdom, and manipulations do not often hang on such concerns. Aspera has forgotten nothing, and knows very little of herself. Perhaps it is better that way. Better everyone else be wrong than I, runs the tale.
INT 14 : A sorcerer has no excuse to avoid study, Aspera capable of comprehending notions fairly sharply. That said, she is not as intelligent as she pretends, but what does that matter? When your will can split the heavens and sap the will of another, thought is by the by.
CHA 20 : Confidence is coiled in her breast like a snake, unsullied by notions of others. In a world of inferiors, confidence shines like a beacon. Eyes flaring with the power coursing through her, and her skin alight with the shard of the Weave in her breast, she cuts a striking figure of decise beauty.
Home : Tor Thanan, an elegan elven outpost was the ancient seat of the House of Chillwind. Like a spire rising in the icy mist, it's ruin stands, blackened beneath the rime of frost and the glitter of icy pinnacles that cling to the shattered collonades and galleries. Infamous for her unforgiving, and sometime, even malicious tenure as Magistrate of Peltarch, Aspera has disappeared, was alledged to dwell in Oscura for a time, but is once again, darkening the doors of Peltarch with her unwarming light.
Lore Specialization : Aspera's interest lies in the minds of all mortals, and to a limited sense, immortal creatures. Her strange power over minds has manifested several times in Narfell, earliest recorded against the Paladin Allania Diams, remembered perhaps by few. She is an Enchantress with few peers, capable of freezing the will of even the largest creatures, bending them at her feet. She has an archanists passing knowledge of Undead, but professes that she has little use for them. An enchantress can be little enamoured of a thing with no mind to twist to hers. It is said by some that she has knowledge, gleaned from a text, bound in human skin, of the summoning of Devils and other creatures of darkness. If this is true, or idle speculation, it is difficult to say.
Presence : For all the bravado of some, it is a foolish man or woman who looks to Aspera idly. Her skin is aglow with inner light, casting a sort of pale radiance upon her ivory sculpted features. Few could but be struck by her beauty, even if a smile rarely reaches her eyes, nor marks her ruby lips with untrammelled mirth. She is, however, not particularly given to careful leading, but adopts a domineering tone with all perceived as inferiors, if charm is not required by the situation.
Height : 5 foot, 5 inches
Weight : A lady never reveals such things.
Age : Aspera has been known in the realms of Narfell longer than almost all others, save for the bard Meril whom some claim she had a romantic dalliance with once. Whatever is true, and by whatever art, be it elven undying grace, or something more sinister, Aspera still appears a youthful elf.
Skin Tone : Perhaps from her childhood in the frozen north, Aspera's skin is untouched by the sun, lending her delicate features a frosty clearness, through which a certain transluscence might be observed by those who examine carefully.
Eyes : Aspera's eyes are said to be part of whatever mesmeric force of enchantment she might release, for they are bright emerald, and appear to swirl within, the greens shifting in their position when the Weave is invoked.
Hair : As with many Moon Elves, Aspera's hair is dark as night, with a certain bluish, moonlight gleam upon it. She usually wears it in faintly severe, but attractive ringlets, held in place by ornate, ivy-stylised cords. Her temple is often crowned with a light diadem, holding a central, pale icy-hued gemstone of indeterminate origin.
Voice : Melodious, on occasions when it is warranted, but usually coldly musical, most fluent in elven, yet when she deigns to speak common, there is an edge upon it that robs it of any emotion.
Commonly spoken languages : Aspera most often speaks in Common and in Elven, the latter of which, only with full blooded elves, refusing to sully herself by using such a pure tongue with inferior half-castes. Attentive hearers of the past might count a scholarly curiousity in Draconic, but this tongue is spoken with a harshness, almost a contempt when used.
Equipment Worn : Aspera alternates between various ornate and expensive looking dresses. It might be speculated they reflect something of her mood - alternating between deep purple and black, and a shimmering robe, snow-white. The former are the heraldic colour of her family, picked out in silver upon her robes.
Equipment Carried : Aspera retains a scroll case in which to lay any scrolls discovered. She is often seen bearing a quarterstaff, though beneath her winter-wolf inlaid cloak, curious observers may notice an elven longsword in scabbard. As an arcanist, such weapons are more for appearance than anything else, but on occasions when drawn, the weapon reveals itself to be ensorcelled, and elven in design.
Mounted on a seemingly delicate belt, various wands hand nonchalantly, readily in reach. Among others, these rods have observed to cast Magic Missiles, Invisibility spells, Stoneskin and even summon down a storm of ice upon an unfortunate foe.
Left Handed or Right Handed : Right handed
Jewelry or Decorations : Aspera's fingers are aglow with gems and arcane fire, often stylised in elven forms, inlaid with deep emeralds which flash when she is irritated. Various particularly catch the eye. The first, a sapphire band in the style of the Keep of Spellweavers, casting an aura of faint light about her slender form. The second, an unusually plain golden band which sometime takes its place upon her willowy, clever looking fingers. A third bears arcane markings, but casts no light. It's use is unknown. At her throat, the most striking of her gems: a masterful amulet cut from fire opal. Those channellers of the Weave may recognise in this a powerful arcane tool, to the uninitiated, a beautiful object nonetheless.
Relatives : Aspera has spoken to almost nobody of family, on account of retaining few or no lasting friends.
Body Build : Slender, willowy, her elven grace lending her movements a fluid naturalness. Whether part of her aristocratic pretensions or not, her movements are possessed with a concious grace, whether gliding through Peltarch or moving at speed through the Nars Pass.
Combat style : Aspera tends to avoid the melée wherever possible, maintaining the rear of a group, or disappearing from the fight altogether by invoking invisibility. When combat is enjoined, however, she draws about herself a storm of protective energies before unleashing her powers at the unfortunate foe. It is not unusual for opponents to be rooted in place, their wills sapped from their bodies, only to be blasted with explosive electrical fires. It is even said that Aspera can invoke such fear as to drive the very soul from the body, and on some occasions, has been known simply to point at a foe, and for the creature to crumple to the floor, bereft of life. On other occasions, she has been known to alter her form, but seems less keen on this form of magic than other archanists, employing it only as an abject necessity, or to avoid the watchful eye of those it would be better to avoid.
If the battle goes ill, Aspera will often disappate into the air, before hasting herself and escaping further danger. Self-preservation is apparently the order of the day.
Familiar: Ulanor. Although for several years, the icy Lady Chillwind maintained a Ice-Mephit as her attendant, it would appear that the unfortunate mephit has fallen to be replaced by a leering Imp.
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Coming soon…
Professor Grubrod Scudd
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Mercy
Titles : Priestess of Umberlee, Scallywag in the Black Sails Trading Coster.
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Attributes:(After equipment adjustments)
STR 16 : Muscles tightly bunched and corded by years of hauling up sails and altering tack, Mercy's ham-hoch-paw is backed by a thunderous bicep.
DEX 14 : Belying her squat broadness, Mercy is more nimble than one might expect from a dwarfen lassie of her girth. Ratlines pose no problem to our horny-handed sailor-lassie.
CON 16 : Tough, robust, hardened by years under the weathersome lash of wind, wave and salt, Mercy's craggy hide has been tempered from usual dwarfen toughness to a steel-hided lumpy sow. Wi' a wanion!
WIS 16 : Vile tongued as the dwarfen slag-faced-slattern be, says I, she's grand at seeing what for what, particularly when it involves slinging mud at some poor unfortunate.
INT 10 : Mercy's critical faculty is. More cannot be said of it.
CHA 6 : Beauty and Mercy do not share a plane. Her cauliflowered face is punctuated by her blue-dyed hair, coiled with the fishy remnants of her worship. If the rattle of dead-haddock and the whiff of seaweed wasn't enough, Mercy possesses one of the foulest mouths in a port, noted for it's eloquence. Rarely will she say anything nice about anyone, to anyone. A right vulgar slag, she be, wi' a curse!
Home : Originally from a Jiyydian dwarfen family o' farmers, sister to the deceased Charity, her father took dwarfen indulgence in liquor too far - he took up with obscure elven wines, to general disgust - and in a weak moment, sold Mercy as a young dwarfen lassie to a Peltarchian sailor's berth. Taking up the duties of common sailor, her balance and grit serving her well, the seas be home tae Mercy, an' the briney deep for all those who fail to honour the Sea Queen.
Lore Specialization : Reading the currents of the ocean, manning the ship and all such shipping paraphanalia. She has a subsidiary interest in anything o' price, o' shiny value. Her skill in this area is more limited that might be wished, often requiring a knowledgable interceder.
Height : 5 foot.
Weight : Around half a tonne - naturally.
Age : After pappy took it upon herself to sell her, Mercy has no real sense of how old she is, or how long she has been labouring at sea.
Skin Tone : A greenish tinged, swarthy sailor's crispy skin.
Eyes : Beady and leery, Mercy's eyes are a sort of murky, stewing swamp green, glimmering with wild delight when murder is on offer, and the cutlass is in paw.
Hair : The only touch of vanity in Mercy be her dyed blue hair - though the work is far from uniform and is bleached by rainfall and the dulling erosions of the wind and sun. In her hair, cockles are tied in, seagull feathers and seaweed which rattle in the wind and givew Mercy her seagoing bouquet, much to the objection of scurvy lubbers not used to it.
Voice : Gutteral beyond words - commonly understood only by fellow sailors, and even then, her rum, weather-hand prattle is peppered with coinage. The rules of grammar don't apply to Mercy, nor the rules of meaning, etiquette, or politeness. Her laugh is a rum, piercing cackle.
Commonly spoken languages : Mercy speaks (sic) common, and also dwarfen, in which she is far more readily understood, albeit with a heavy-handed accent absorbed from her fellow swabs aboard ship.
Equipment Worn : While ashore, Mercy pours herself into blue-tinted plate armour, with thighs and arms free. Her huge fists are plated with matching blue-storm plate gauntlets for ready brawlin'. Aboard, the heavy armour is a sure ticket to the deeps, and Mercy wears her flamboyant Black Sails bumble-bee leathers.
Over this, Mercy wears her Umberlite white-robe - more often than not stained by booze or filth.
Equipment Carried : Mercy carries weapons on almost every part of her person.
Primary is the cutlass at her simple, lightly enchanted, brown-leather belt, "Aunt Betty". While not sentient, the sharktooth cutlass has an offensive look, lending Mercy's talents are insults a further still when the slicery pal is in paw. It sparkles with enchantment, and it's sting is edged with the icy breath of Umberlee's waves. Both boots have a discreet dagger tucked inside for the hasty stabbery sometime needful, slung to her back, a decent-made crossbow, "Deacon", is matched with a powerful shortbow, "Pepper". Otherwise, she sometime carries a trident, or a huge double-handed axe for heavy duty choppery. Studding her crossbelt, hidden among various other skeletal trophies are a series of nasty lookin' scourge darts nicked from bugbears, readily in hand and fired at some poor unfortunate's neck. Her stumpy pins are shod in stoutly-made winter-wolf boots to ward off the ill-weather of the waves and the Pass.
Left Handed or Right Handed : Right handed
Jewelry or Decorations : Hardly a lasses lass, Mercy ain't big on jewels, but likes the odd shiny. On one finger, a duergar ring is kept, often eyed with a grim glee, remembering Mercy's captivity and torture by the gray-faced bastards. Otherwise, she wears plain silver ring, picked up from some booty hoard. Around her neck is the familiar "Troll dung" amulet, adding to the already significant aroma, and giving the dwarfen salt an even more irritating demeanour.
Relatives : Mercy Pappy spends his days blotto at home, or blotto in the Whore in Jiyyd. Her benign, decent sister, Charity, was hacked down some years ago by a brutual hobgoblin wi' a scythe. Mercy shows no real concern about this.
Body Build : Brick-shit-house.
Combat style : When lesser foes are in order, Mercy charges in wildly, chopping at them with her cutlass. Her reasonable dexterity gives these blows a surprising creativity, belying their apparent careless rampantness. She shows particular focus wi' "Aunt Betty", laying about herself gleefully. When bigger baddies threaten, Mercy is content to let other bastards take the brunt but can step up if necessary, defending herself with the landsman tower shield. Otherwise, she stings at the enemy with arrows and calls upon the powers of Umberlee to flatten the buggers and buff her crew.
Often, she will summon up a demonic 'Howler' if pressed by a number of foes or to provide a distraction. Other favourite blessings are charging herself with divine power and edging the blade with the divine spite o' the Bitch Queen or ripping their flesh from the bones with bursts of negative energy. She often wards herself against fire and assault with a series of protective spells, and dishes out healing and restoration, but always for a price.
