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Who's Who on Avlis - A New Charater Autobiography Page

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PostAuthor: Fifty » Mon Jun 30, 2003 8:39 am

Laen Toille

Race: Human
Class: Fighter
Alignment: Neutral Good

After losing his parents at a young age, Laen looked destined for a life of crime on the streets of Mikona, but his ability with a bow and natural intelligence were enough to secure him a position as a squire with a young Mikonian nobleman.

Aged 14 he was sent to an ally in the distant Kurathene Empire to learn the language and prepare the way for the coming of his master, who was to become an ambassador of sorts.

He fell in love with the youngest daughter of the Kurathenian lord and started trying to plan a future together. She, however, discovered a talent for magic. She left her home, and Laen, to study with a group of mages.

Laen returned to Mikon and began teaching his lord the rudiments of Kurathenian. When his master moved to Kurathene he went there also. His lord, however, saw that he was unhappy being around places that reminded him of his love. After a few months the misery was obviously not fading and he was given leave to return to Mikon and find his own way there, but that he was welcome to return to his lord's service if he ever chose to.

Laen has been back in Mikona for some weeks and is struggling to stay positive. He has been working as a courier in the government centre, a job which drove him crazy watching self-important bureaucrats make decisions based on nothing but prejudice and ignorance. He turned to hunting fire beetles for a time, but soon tired of it.

Laen can now be found looking for other like-minded individuals to go hunting with. He is basically good, but recently tends to pick arguments for no good reason. He is frustrated at the hand life has dealt him and is not coping well with crowded city life or the loss of his love. He sees two routes ahead of him - one of crime or one of freedom and open spaces outside the city. He hopes for the second.

Laen is considering the army as his most likely course in life. He hopes that he can find someone knowledgeable about the wilds to take him under their wing.


After some time spent out in the wilds and time spent battling undead in Mikona's crypts Laen started to move along the Ranger's path. However, unexpected developments meant that he became more of a city person again and has turned into a merchant who adventures only occasionally. Most of Mikona's best bargains now involve Laen in some way. A long trip back to the Kurathene empire meant that his reputation faded somewhat but business is now looking good again.
Last edited by Fifty on Sat Oct 11, 2003 3:10 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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PostAuthor: Deider » Mon Jun 30, 2003 3:41 pm

Gram Jamjeans
Halfling Monk, Lawful Good

Three hundred years ago, the village of Huntingcreek Hills had a problem. Their annual radish harvest had been stolen for the third year in a row by marauding gnolls. And this time, not only had four homesteads been burned out, but Willie Wobblenock, the town?s champion at blowing smoke rings, had been killed by the vicious jackalmen, as the halflings called them.

Huntingcreek Hills is located in northeast Ferrel, an isolated village close to the mountains that form the hobbit nation?s northern border. The halflings had no way of knowing that a tiny tribe of gnolls had escaped lizardman enslavement in Drotid and their hunger sometimes emboldened them enough that they would strike out south into the hobbit country from the mountains, where they have been hiding out, and make raids. All the wee folk knew was that they had no radishes, and one of them had been murdered. But what could they do? They had no weapons, and even if they did none of them were warriors. And they were so far from the other villages?

It was about a month later that a lone elf came to Huntingcreek Hills. This was quite an event, for the villagers had not seen an elf before. They were prepared, in a way ? the traveling knife sharpener who came every year had brought drawings of elves, humans, and dwarves, and even gnomes. But the elf was so? tall. And thin. And his ears were quite pointy, quite pointy indeed. And he differed much from the drawings of the knife sharpener. He had no long, curved bow, and no graceful sword, nor the famous chain armor that was supposed to make no sound. He carried nothing at all, save for a small pouch of food hung from a cloth belt that kept his loose robes from flapping about.

The villagers were frightened at first, but though the elf?s thin lips never curled up into a smile, there was a? compassion about his bearing, the way he walked. And though all expected the elf to pass through and never be seen again, he stayed. He picked a hill a ways off from the village, and sat there. Sometimes he sat for days without moving. The halflings, being a curious and friendly sort, went to the hill and made all sorts of greetings and asked all sorts of questions, but the elf never spoke. They wondered if all elves were this strange.

Eleven months passed. The elf was not altogether forgotten; the children would still sneak off after school to watch him from behind bushes, and the womenfolk still gossiped about him while hanging out clothes, and the menfolk still gossiped about him while puffing on their pipes. But something else was also on their minds. Would the gnolls come again?

They did, more ferocious then before. It looked as if the whole lot of the halflings would be eaten along with their radishes.

But something wholly unexpected happened. The elf came. And he fought the gnolls. The jackalmen swung at him with their big double-bladed axes, and he fought them? with his hands. And feet. CRACK! was the sound as the biggest gnoll?s neck snapped after a swift kick to the head from the elf. With the death of their leader, the gnolls retreated.

The halflings looked on in shock. When that feeling finally subsided, they mobbed the elf and heaped praise and thanks upon him. ?You have saved us,? they shouted, ?you have done it!?

For the first time the wee villagers heard words pour forth from the elf?s lips. ?I have done nothing, yet. But now, I am about to.?

The traveling knife sharpener came again, the next year. He almost knocked his cart over when he arrived in Huntingcreek Hills.

The villagers, having finished tending to their radish fields for the day, were on a hill, doing some strange exercises. And among them was? an elf! He seemed to be? training them.

Indeed, the halflings of Huntingcreek Hills had changed. They were the same old amiable halflings as before, but now? well, they didn?t do the normal things halflings did during leisure time, which in Ferrel was usually half the day. Now they did all sorts of odd exercises ? stretching exercises, breathing exercises, tumbling exercises, even punching and kicking!

And they all asked to have their little sickles sharpened, the ones they used to cut grass around their houses and slice weeds. But they didn?t call them little sickles anymore ? no, now they called them? kamas.
That?s what Teacher called them, they said. That?s what they called the elf, Teacher. Though they asked many times he never gave his name, and one day the mayor came up with the idea of calling him Teacher, seeing as how he had taught the village so many things. Indeed, they knew very little of the elf, for he spoke little, and rarely about himself. They had gathered that he was a wanderer, seeking some sort of enlightenment through a centuries-long journey of Avlis. And they had gathered that he had belonged to some sort of ?school,? you could say, where he had learned the martial skills and philosophy of life that he was imparting to them now.

That next year the gnolls came again, and the year after, and the year after that. Every year they left Huntingcreek Hills with no radishes, but with a lot of bruises, broken bones, and concussions. For Teacher, along with every halfling in the village, raised their fists and hairy feet against them.

On the tenth autumn of Teacher?s stay in the village the gnolls didn?t come. That winter, the elf got up one day and left, never to return. But by that time the halflings of Huntingcreek Hills understood, and they were not sad.

Decades passed. Every now and then some goblins, or kobolds, or something or other would drift down from the mountains and try to attack the isolated village known as Huntingcreek Hills, for it seemed a prime raiding spot ? what could a bunch of unarmed halflings do to them?

Those raiders never got their hands on a single radish.

Centuries passed, three since the time of Teacher. A young villager by the name of Gram Jamjeans reached his eighteenth summer. He had shown great promise ? among those of his generation he was had been the quickest to master CFAS. And last autumn when those kobolds came he had knocked out their leader with a masterful punch.

Gram Jamjeans also knew all of the stories about Teacher by heart. He knew of how when Teacher first started teaching the halflings of his village, they didn?t take to the training very well. They didn?t understand the names of the techniques, for they were all in Elvish and had very esoteric meanings, such as ?Falling Lantern Scarf Throw.? So Teacher, and later the halflings themselves, after the elf had left and they began to teach themselves, slowly adapted the martial art to better suit them. They named most of the techniques after the various critters that lived in and around the village, for most of the moves resembled the movements of the animals. And so ?Falling Lantern Scarf Throw? became ?Titmouse Toss,? and other techniques became ?Jackrabbit Back Kick,? ?Possum Paw Parry,? and so on. And hence the halflings named their art CFAS ? Cute Furry Animals Style.

Not only did Gram Jamjeans know all of the stories about Teacher by heart, but the wanderlust bug had also bit him but good, as it sometimes does with those of his race. Gram got into his head the idea of going out and trying to find Teacher. He was an elf, after all ? he might still be alive, even after three hundred years. And Gram wanted to thank him for what he had done so long ago. He had saved his village, not as many heroes would do by just killing the raiders and moving on, but by showing the village how to save itself.

So the plucky yet innocent young red-headed halfling known as Gram Jamjeans bid farewell to his Uncle Apricot and Grampa Raspberry and his ma and pa and headed south, on a near impossible journey to find an elf he admired but had never met nor even seen. His first destination: T?Nashi. Perhaps after all these centuries Teacher?s wandering has come to an end and he has returned to the elven lands, thought the boy.

And so much like a lone elf entered a village of halflings three hundred years ago, a lone halfling, carrying nothing but a small pouch of food and the clothes on his back, steps off a boat and enters the city of Elysia.
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PostAuthor: Ealdonor » Fri Jul 04, 2003 7:16 am

Name: Ealdonor Daecundil
Race: Half Elven
Alignment: uh-huh right :D

From the journal of Ealdonor the wanderer

I don?t claim to know much about life, or the ways of the gods, and truly if I had to make a guess
I would say that the gods are feckless and cruel. Certainly they have not made it easy on me.

I?m thinking this sounds really bitter and I am in a sour mood right now, I don?t often go on about
My condition or my fate, so perhaps by writing it down, I can get it out of my system.

I am Ealdonor, son of Eladin Daecundil, a wood elf and Mari Felgost, my mother, a human from
A northern tribe of men. I am told from my day of birth I was talked about, and no small wonder. For whatever twist of fate or cruel joke played upon me by whatever gods there may be I was gifted with this Curse. Nimfea the elves call it, the white soul. For my skin was pale, even for a newborn, as pale as snow and I had hair to match, but that was not what caused the uproar. My eyes created that, for they are a pale pink.

I don?t know what humans might call this affliction, but certainly their taboos and traditions simply don?t allow for anyone to appear this way. The elves were a bit more understanding, but I was only partly elf, even though I chose to live as one of them, I never was one of them.

I have never really fit in anywhere. Humans tend to shun me, my coloration either frightens them or triggers some strange superstition. My wood elven bretheren took to calling me Nimraner, which loosely translates as the Lone White wanderer. I learned from them, the elves. I learned their woodcraft and took to studying nature. If there is a god, surely it lies in the natural world. My mothers tribe calls me Erekose, the White Wolf.

I left my home after my 20th year, young for an elf to depart his home, even a half-elven, but I wanted to travel the world and experience it and perhaps if lucky find a place where I might be accepted, or at least not feared, or spat upon. I wintered in the high mountains with a small dwarven enclave, I was Kheleksereg to them, ice blood, or something like that. The dwarves were nice enough but they always changed their talk when I entered and many were not happy to have me around, the winter was particularly harsh that year and many blamed me. As if I had something to do with it. Still, it was among the Dwarves that I have felt most comfortable to date.

I descended into human lands, took to wearing a cloak of green with a deep hood, to help shield my face and eyes from their gaze. I am tall for one of my kind, or so I am told, standing just under 6 feet in height. Apart from my skin, hair and eye coloration, I look much like my wood elf cousins.

I kept to myself, I listened and stayed in the shadows. I was fortunate to encounter a human, Mimulus was his name. He was a bard, and very deep was his knowledge. He informed me that I was what humans called an Albino. He told me of the origins of some of the humans fears, it was his knowledge and the fact that he didn?t speak to me any differently than he would to anyone else, that I began to understand.

I don?t hate humans for their prejudice, for that matter I have come to terms with it quite well I think, even if I do go into these dark moods from time to time. I wandered into a great human city called Mikona and there learned of Elysia. I have never traveled over the water before, perhaps I can take the journey to Elysia, perhaps there I will find what I seek. But I have made friends who live in Mikona so I will most likely split my time between the two. Besides, there is a great deal of Wilderness here that just begs to be explored.

Some simple notes about Ealdonor:

Ealdonor has a chaotic soul, not evil for certain, although sometimes he can be quite cold. Softly spoken he tends to stay on the fringes of social encounters, leaving a way out. He has few friends, but those he calls friends he will defend fiercely. His true love is the outdoors, for nature loves all its creatures. He knows he has some gift for the weaving of magic, however he has yet to attempt to harness that skill.

He is cautious towards humans, as they tend to be the most superstitious about his appearance. He likes dwarves, as he finds their light-hearted jesting an amusing counterpoint to their otherwise dour and taciturn demeanor. Other races, well he simply lets their actions , or reactions rather, guide his opinion.
I have never really fit in anywhere. Humans tend to shun me, my coloration either frightens them or triggers some strange superstition. My wood elven bretheren took to calling me Nimraner, which loosely translates as the Lone White wanderer. I learned from them, the elves. I learned their woodcraft and took to studying nature. If there is a god, surely it lies in the natural world. My mothers tribe calls me Erekose, the White Wolf.

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PostAuthor: j5hale3 » Mon Jul 07, 2003 9:50 am

Name: Heldor, Son of Heltar

Class: Heldor is loosely based on Kathrine Kurtz's Deryni and Frank Herbert's Paul Atreides. As such, He's mostly fighter, with some theif (scout) and a bit of sorcerer.


Heldor sailed into Mikona harbor shortly before the major Sereg attack on Mikona. He tends not to talk much about the past, except in causual dropping of some details.

After speaking with Heldor for a bit you would learn about his father Heltar, a Knight Commander that took control of a territory that was heavily infested with "humanoids" using a blitzkreig type attack. This territory was know as the "Bone March" and Heldor was born during it's occupation. Heltar was not able to completly clear and control the land and eventually was pushed back out. During the evacuation, Heldor was nearly killed. This living under martial law and the near death experience caused Heldor to take very seriously the lessons that Heltar provided.

Heltar and family returned to the land of their birth. Duke Owan of the Grand Dutchy of Geoff granted Heltar a small keep on the edge of a great mountain range. Here Heltar started to gather the area's adventurers to create an effective fighting force against all invaders to the Grand Dutchy. At this time Heltar retires from active adventuring and becomes a Garrison Commander. Heldor learns much from all the different people that travel through the area. Elves from the woods, Dwarves from the mountains, and all types of men, traveled the safer roads on their business.

Upon reaching manhood, Heldor became increasingly filled with wanderlust. So one day Heltar presented Heldor with Onn a Two handed sword that he used to wield and sent Heldor to one of his friends, Gaspar.

Gaspar was one of the leaders of the Sea Princes who assigned Heldor to one of his sailing vessles. Within a year, Heldor mastered the concepts needed to sail smaller crafts effectively. One night, after seeing a shooting star, The crew of the ship that Heldor was serving on came across a small sailing ship, apprently abandoned and adrift. The other sailors were hesitant to approach the vessel but Heldor volunteered to pilot the ship back to port for salvage. Heldor named this ship "the Dancing Star" after the shooting star.

The next day there was a storm that was the grandfather of all storms, that lasted for three days. Heldor never made it back to the Sea Princes.
Since then he has landed in many different ports, but he has never seemed to be able to find his way home. Even the stars seem different.

{more to come}
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PostAuthor: swifthawke » Mon Jul 07, 2003 4:17 pm

Name: Aaric Swifthawke
Race: Human
Class: Warrior .. aspireing Paladin

Hard work from sun up to after sun set was the life of young Aaric on his fathers farm. He loved working in the fields the most because ones labor could be seen from day to day. His worse chore was always the feeding of the swine, what a stench!

But not all was work on the farm. There were many good times spent with his family which included his father, mother, and two younger sisters. One day a week they set aside to spend together and be a 'family'. Aaric loved every one of them and could not imagine a life away from the farm.

His father was a farmer/merchant who traveled to the nearby city of Mikon once every fall to sell his produce. He mainly supplied the Order of Gorethar and it's Paladins with his wares. After every visit Aaric's father would come back to the farm telling him about the honor and bravery of these men. If anything were to ever happen to him, he made Aaric swear to seak out these men and ask to be initiated into their ranks.

One day that dreadful something did happen....

Aaric was mending the fence not far from the farm one evening when he heard a loud ruckus coming from the house. Running as fast as his legs would carry him he made it to the house in time to see four men dressed in dark clothes coming out.

Reaching for the knife on his belt Aaric approached the men. Immediatly they attacked all at once and Aaric didn't stand a chance. He parried and he dodged and he managed to slice one of them along the arm as he was knocked out...

Later, after awaking and stumbling to his feet, Aaric looked with dread at his familys house. The little farm house was in need of a painting he noticed as he made his way up to the door.
Inside he found his entire family dead. Brutely slaughtered and carelessly thrown about. His fathers head was nearly decapitated and a look of sorrow was on his opened lifeless eyes. His poor mother was tied to the bed with her cloths in tatters. His sisters he found laying on the kitchen floor, one with the butchering knife impaled in her chest.

Three days later the neighbors found Aaric sitting at the graves he had burried his family in. He had neither eaten nor slept in that time and there was dried blood on the back of his head where the murderers had hit him and left him for dead. A blank stare in his eyes as he prayed to Gorethar for guidance.

The neighbors managed to bring Aaric out of his comotose state by reminding him of his promise to his father to go to the city. After Aarics responce that he needed to stay on at the farm and continue there, one of them mentioned that perhaps in the city he will find those who did this to his family. Or at least find information.

So, the city of Mikon is where Aaric finds himself now. Accept things are very different here compared to what his father told him. He can find not find one Paladin of Gorethar. And two white haired elves told him that the order was no longer in the city. That they were in some city called Elysia, or something like that. But that was after some prostitute had gotten him drunk and the two "special" elves, as they called themselves, had gotten him into a bar fight.

Well, the order was in another city. But, it was Mikon that he had swore to his father that he would come. There must be at least one of the order here. He will continue to search. And if there are none then perhaps he would join the army or some other such endeavor. He heard that there was a war going on and all he can think of is stopping the evil in this world. Of stopping another family from being slain by cut-throats and thieves. He knows he can't do much and that there will always be wrong in this world but, he swore to his father that he would become a Paladin of Gorethar. Perhaps he doesn't need the order to do that. Perhaps he will just be a force of good in this city all alone. But, his mind is clear on one thing...

In Mikon he will make his home.
Last edited by swifthawke on Fri Mar 19, 2004 5:43 am, edited 1 time in total.

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PostAuthor: Fuzz » Sun Jul 13, 2003 11:18 pm

Name: Mina [Surname Unknown]
Age: Looks to be about 24-26 by Human standards, actual age is unknown
Race: Half-Elven (Avlissian. Which parent was what is unknown)
Class: Monk/? (Who knows what will happen... )
Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Her actual history is quite detailed and notable... thing is, it's unknown to everyone, including her. Kind of don't want to publicly put down any info, since even she doesn't know about any of it... as such, if any DM wants a detailed rundown (Hylia, I can write you a more detailed one) PM me, I guess.
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PostAuthor: Vichan Lyonsen » Mon Jul 14, 2003 12:31 am

NAME: Vichan Lyonsen
RACE: Human

Vichan Lyonsen, son of Theod Lyonsen, Paladin in the service of Gorethar.

Vichan is a young lad of 18 years who stands 6'1" high to the top of his long sandy hair. From a very early age he felt the calling, and thought that he was to become a member of the clergy of his local church. His Father Theod, who was a very minor dignitary in Redgate (one of the Seven Free Cities) raised him and his three brothers with the teachings of Gorethar.

While being tested for an initiate position within the church it was determined that his future as a cleric, would be quite limited. Vichan was never told how they came to this determination but he was instead sent to a martial college where he was taught in the ways of combat, at first he sought a monastic life, but he was not comfortable there.

Vichan had always been in good shape, not terribly strong, nor incredibly quick, but he had a quick mind and was a fast learner. He was soon selected as a Paladin and began his career as a Gallant, in the service of Gorethar.

Several years passed, and during this time things became bad in Redgate, corruption and greed became rampant for the local economy had taken a bad turn downward. At this Time Vichan served with the town guard. It came to pass that he learned that his own father, had broken with the ideals of Gorethar, and had accepted bribes from local hooligans, to look away from their smuggling operations. It broke his heart and he was torn for he loved his father dearly but his standing in the church would be lost if it were discovered that he knew this thing, yet did not act.

And act he did, he turned his father in for accepting the bribe, and before he could speak with his father, he went to the precept of the church and told him that he must travel. He did not want to face his father or his family for this deed he did. Instead he left what money he could, to help pay his fathers fine, and he left.

He travelled in the company of merchant caravans when possible, alone when necessary, but eventually he arrived on the Outskirts of Mikona. He sees great opportunity in this dangerous town, an opportunity to make a name for himself, an opportunity to serve these people, to serve Gorethar.
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PostAuthor: Captain Lensflare » Thu Aug 07, 2003 11:32 am

<b>Yodal Lightly</b>
<br>Race : Halfling<br>Class : Rouge<br>Alignment : True Neutral

Yodal has lived normally for most of her life, a husband, children and then grandchildren. Shortly after the death of her husband during army training manoeuvres, she decided that she needed more and set out into the big bad world.

After moderate success as a charlatan and pickpocket she faced something dreadful. She has no memory of what this thing was, only that is was truly hideous and was incredibly deadly. She has no idea why she was spared when all around her perished, but she was changed that day. Where once sanity reigned, a creeping madness now roams. She wandered for several months, travelling with various groups where her talents proved useful until she came across the City of Mikona.

Yodal now believes that she can claim the title "Queen of Avlis" simply because no one else has it or seems to want it. Although she has a sense of humour, the concept that others would not take her seriously is completely outside of her understanding, after all she is the Future Queen.
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PostAuthor: Cemm » Thu Aug 07, 2003 9:45 pm

NAME: Sagan Sunderin
RACE: Half-Elf
PROFESSION: Generalist Wizard
ALIGNMENT: Lawful Neutral


Sagan was the son of a human father and elven mother. His father had been a small-time adventurer in his own right once upon a time but retired early to farm a plot of land he'd purchased near the small coastal village where his adventures had all started, and to marry the winsome barmaid of the local tavern that had long ago caught his youthful eye.

The two had made a good life for their little family and further established themselves within the small community. It was clear that Sagan was the product of their shared blood when he was born, though he grew up favoring his father in appearance. His father maintained and expanded the family farm while his mother ended up purchasing and running the local tavern she had grown up working in (and later renovating it to re-open as a full-fledged inn).

All in all, Sagan's was a free-spirited childhood of few wants or desires that were not met. He was well provided for and always safe and looked after where his parents had been the abandoned and wandering products of the longtime warring between M'Chek and T'Nanshi.

It wasn't until Sagan was already nearly a young man himself that the harsh reality of the tumultuos world around him finally found its way to his quiet little village.

A stranger had arrived (very nearly appeared, for none could say they saw him approach) upon the doorstep of the family inn on the outskirts of town. A storm of terrible proportions had apparently been his travel companion, rolling in along the coast with a feriocity rarely seen recent times.

Arriving late in the fading hours of the evening, the cloaked traveler had found the inn nearly empty save for young Sagan who had been cleaning up after closing the tavern. Sagan, a friendly and carefree young man at that time, had welcomed him in and offered what service he could. The road-weary traveler had seemed to appreciate this and accepted his hospitality. The two men, the still very young and the now rather old, then sat together by the warm hearth and wiled away the evening with long rambling discussion. Sagan was eager for information of the unknown world he'd never experienced outside of his village, and the old one seemed amicable enough as he shared tidbits of his travels.

The subject eventually had turned to magic, as the old man professed to be something of a magic user himself, and the witching hour gave way to the long early hours of darkened morning as the clearly fascinated Sagan devoured what the stranger had had to share.

As dawn drew near and Sagan knew that exhaustion must soon overwhelm his excited youth, he begged the old wizard to share with him an example of his magic. The elder man had simply smiled, in the oddest fashion, and assured Sagan that he would do so. Indeed, he noted, he'd come to this village to work a number of his miracles anyway and was tickled with the idea of having an audience that would appreciate him for once.

Sagan was thrilled beyond his wildest dreams, and promised not to breath a word of the coming day's marvels to his parents and friends about town. The old man nodded sagely and took him for his word. His instructions to the boy were for him to go to his rooms on the third and top story of the inn at noon tomorrow and there he would be witness to the traveler's magic. As they parted at sunrise to each withdraw for a bit of rest, the old man patted Sagan on the back and assured him that he would not soon forget the coming day. He assured him that he would surely never forget the marvelous enchantments of Metaboculous the Magnificent!

The younger man did as he was told and retreated quickly to his home to get a few hours rest before what he was sure would be one of the most thrilling days of his life. As excited as he was he was only able to manage a few hours sleep even after lingering with the old man all night. He was up and running back into town toward the family inn just as soon as the appointed hour could reach him. He darted past his family and friends with a wry secret grin and barely restrained winks, for they had no idea of what awaited them, and scrambled up the flights of stairs to the third floor.

Sagan entered the old enchanter's rooms and found them empty and untouched, as if he'd never entered them at all. Only a note left on the windowsill betrayed that anyone had indeed visited:


Young Master Sagan,

Welcome to the fanciful world of enchantment and wizardry. I am excited for the opportunity to work my marvels before an audience that will truly appreciate them for their artful spectrum. Enjoy the show.


Metaboculous the Magnificent


Sagan beamed from one slightly pointed ear to the other, and flushed at the suggestion that this great magic user appreciated HIM! He hurried to the window, pressing up against it for a good view of the village below when it refused to be flung open to allow him to lean out.

It wasn't long before the screaming started.

Sagan Sunderin was indeed introduced to wizardry and the power of enchantment that day. The hold portal spell that had locked the windows and doorways of the room had eventually worn off just as he was near starvation. It had mattered little, for he had lay there by the window where he'd fallen stricken with the horrors he'd witnessed. A living nightmare fully arrested his every waking moment and only tortured him further during his few unconscious moments.

The show had first begun with several local farmers, dear friends of he and his parents, first chasing and then butchering their children in the old dirt road outside. At one moment, these loving families had been walking together on holy day (the village was bustling on this day as folk come in to worship) and in the next horrible chaos had ensued. The men had become as maniac beasts, monsters run wild. After the macrabe destruction of their children, the farmers had turned on their howling wives. Sagan's father had bolted from the tavern room of the inn to attempt some heroics amid the terrible insanity when fell beasts from the wilderness began to charge into the area as well. They attacked indiscriminately, eating and eating, engourging themselves on the stricken town.

Sagan watched the destruction of his village from the third story window of his parent's inn. He witnessed the savage deaths of almost every member of his community. He heard his father's death moan downstairs after the terrified screaming of his mother had suddenly ended in mid-howl. He had pounded on the magically held door and windows as he listened to the last cries of his dying sweetheart in the hallway outside.

When all that was left alive were the bloodstained wolves roaming the village streets, all grew quiet. The wolves had suddenly seemed lost and disorganized, strangers again to each other. As if spooked by this horrible scene before them that they didn't they'd been a part of, they'd darted off into the coastal wilderness again with their tails between their legs.

And then there was the old man, standing all alone in the unending silence of the blood splotched and corpse-littered street outside, waving up at him. The enchanter Metaboculous the Magnificent smiled amicably up at his horrified audience and slowly took an entertainer's bow.

The boy eventually escaped that third story room, and buried every last one of the butchered villagers on his father's nearby farm in umarked graves. He then burned their home and the farm and the entire cursed village to the ground and left it in his wake.

Sagan Sunderin has spent all the years since searching for Metaboculous the Magnificent, scouring for any scrap of evidence of his passing that might bring him one step closer to locating him. His constant wanderings have fashioned him a magic user in his own right over time, as he devours every piece of information on wizardry he comes upon. He is a secretive man torn between two fathers, he who raised him to be a generous and kind and good to his fellow man, and he who beguiled him with the awesome power of wizardry and then destroyed his entire world with it.

Of Sagan's past that has been revealed here, he has little to share and then only vaguely of general locations and such when questioned. Of the inadvertant mentor in wizardry he has long sought, even less. Of him, who he may not even name except with those he suspects might have been aware of his passing, he will say only that their relationship of mentor to student requires completion.
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PostAuthor: Emprod » Fri Aug 15, 2003 4:53 pm

Vanyankaya (Vanya) Del'Trion
Human, Female
Lawful Evil (Chaotic tendencies)

Born of wealthy lineage, and an only child, Vanyankaya was given little attention as a youth as her parents spent most of their attention on their social circle and attempts at impressing the nobility. Hence she had a full run of the upscale estate the family owned, access to family riches and servants. Unsupervised, loose in Mikona proper, she would find countless ways of getting in trouble, for the sake of trouble. What she couldn't weasel her way out of through wit (base INT 17),charm(base CHA 14), or simply quick feet(base DEX 16), could be easily taken care of by her well connected father. Things like vandalism and burglary quickly became boring at the lack of risk, and having little need for the profits gained. With time, and recognition of her ability to pretty much do what she wanted without repercussion, vanity and arrogance became second nature. In her late teen years she took to hanging in bars with 'common' folk, as they were much more interesting and fun than friends of her family and from her youth, and more importantly keen to staying out all night and drinking cheap ale.

Her new favorite habit became playing mindgames with the patrons of the pubs, courting hardworking men and soldiers and persuading them to buy her drinks and expensive gifts. An enchanter of no large talent caught her interest one day. She observed the covertly whispered enchantments he'd use to seduce girls for his evening romps, confronted him after one such act and made a pact with him not to reveal his trickery if he'd take her as an understudy. She was a quick study, and it took a mere week to equal his skill. Not particularly pleased by her obviously much stronger affinity for magic, and her announcement that she was through and done with him, he managed to cast a domination spell on her as she turned to leave his abode, and took his frustrations out carnally. That feeling of being out of control, combined with the physical assault, broke her spirit and interest in day to day life for several months. She recluded into self-study of wizardry, with more than a little interest in death magicks, but special focus on protective and anti-magicks, abjuration. When she felt ready, she slipped into the enchanter's abode undetected, caught him unaware and unprepared, and given the opportunity to put him away with spells, simply plunged a blade into his back instead, unflinching, relishing the up close and personal revenge.

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PostAuthor: Cath » Fri Aug 22, 2003 3:02 pm

Name: Ayiree
Race: Half-elven female
Class: Bard
Alignment: She will be nice to you...

There will be two parts of this introduction, first the more IC one - i.e. what anyone who studied her for a while would notice.
Then a more detailed version you wouldn't know unless you've met her.
She is a pretty girl with long golden hair and violet eyes.
She greats everyone with a radiant smile and shows a genuine interest in other people, always being nice and polite.
Though a little shy she will always respond to a friendly greeting, introducing herself as Ayiree, never giving a family name.

Her clothes are colorful but carefully mended and altered as they have been around for a while and have seen better days.
Though she is clean and obviously makes an effort to look her best it is clear that she isn't wealthy.

She is curious up to and beyond the point where it becomes unhealthy and she is often studying the world around her as well as it's inhabitants,
but sometimes she does just the opposite, humming a tune to herself, dancing a few steps as she walks down the street seemingly lost to the world.

Her favorite hangout is the library though she feels the selection is somewhat limited but there is always the chance that some interesting
book is sitting on a shelf just waiting to be found. Sometimes it's enough just to feel the books, read the covers and enjoy the smell of
leatherbound old parchment.
She has a small book of her own where she takes notes of all kind of things but she is not sharing her writings with anyone.

She has no close friends and wanders through the city on her own.
Her first few days in Mikona has made her a little less enthusiastic about the city and a little more careful so no more strolls in dark alleys or dark
graveyards for this girl.

She is the daughter of a travelling performer and an elf who didn't stay for more than a few nights. She doesn't use a family name since she doesn't
know who her father was. She has spent her whole life in the countryside of M'Chek travelling with her mother and a few other performers but when
her mother died she felt she had to do something else. She waited until they came close to Mikona and then left.
Her knowledge of stories and old legends comes from an old woman who used to care for her when her mother was performing and Ayiree has
come to realize that this woman probably was better than any of the still active performers. She first wanted to check the library to find out which
stories where legends and which were history but soon came to the conclusion that it really didn't matter. If people believe something it
doesn't have to be true to make a difference.
She is curious of the elves and would love to learn about their history and their language but hasn't summoned up the courage to approach one yet.

Her first few days in Mikona she ended up bleeding in the gutter mostly because of her reluctance to leave the skeletons chasing her for someone
else to stumble on. She now wants to learn how to take care of herself a little better....
Her thirst for knowledge has also made her apply for membership in the AKN but she hasn't earned enough money yet.

Her goals are simple - she wants to experience the world, discover its secrets and maybe in the process find a place where she belongs.

Enough said - must leave some room for character development right?
Last edited by Cath on Fri Sep 26, 2003 12:57 pm, edited 1 time in total.
[02:15] <Silk> CAth... please
[02:15] <Silk> please
[02:15] <Silk> marry me
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Drago Sunnyskin

PostAuthor: Deathmosis » Sat Aug 23, 2003 4:45 am

Drago Sunnyskin

Race: Halfling
Class: Rogue/Wizard
Alignment: Neutral Good

Being raised in the tiny nation of Ferrel, Drago had never witnessed life outside of the comfort of his home, but had a yearning to see it that his mother insisted would lead to nothing but troubles. He is the son of Ergo Sunnyskin, a courageous halfling that had been on a few journeys outside of their sheltered home and quite popular amongst the locals. He would tell the local children tales about his journeys with the elves who were at war with the humans and the great battles he had witnessed during that time. His wife would grow mad at him for getting involved with outsider affairs and urged him not to give the children any ideas. Ergo had also studied under an elf mage and became quite skilled with magic. Many of the halflings had never seen magic before and Ergo would entertain them for hours making fireworks and performing illusions. He had passed some of this knowledge onto Drago who upon preparing a fire spell, accidentally set his aunt's house on fire. Many of the halflings looked up to Ergo but many also found him to be disturbing the peacefullness of their home.

One day, while Drago was out gathering crops, he noticed a strange man standing at the gate to his village. The man was completely dressed in a gray robe and his face was barely visible. He explained to Drago that he was from far away lands and wanted to make peace and bring gifts but wanted to learn more about the halflings' home and way of life. Drago had felt quite uneasy at first, since strange folk were not common in these lands, but he felt the stranger really did mean to make peace and so invited him to his comfy home. Drago's family treated the man to a hot meal and he and his father drifted into conversation. Ergo told him of his adventures with the elves and the man seemed eager to know more. Then the conversation led to Ergo finding a strange object that the elves apparently knew something about and then they had told him to hide it somewhere safe. The man was interested in finding out about the location of this object and so Ergo mentioned that he had hidden it somewhere in T'nashi. Ergo would not reveal anymore information and it was at this time that the man charged straight toward Ergo, grabbed him, and immediately vanished with him in a cloud of smoke. Drago became overwhelmed with pain and guilt over his father's dissapearence and vowed to do something about it. His mother urged him to stay right at home and not travel out, else he meet the same fate as his father. Drago became angry from his mother's words and immediately ran away on his own, packing little supplies. After getting lost in woodland after woodland Drago managed to run into the elves that his father had told him so much about. The elves helped Drago get back on his feet and lead him to a place they thought would be good for him to stay while he venture out to search for his lost father, the city of Elysia.

Having been staying in the city for a while now, Drago has become comfortable with the people there and is eager to see what new and exciting oppertunities may await him. However, he has had no luck in finding his father and fears he may have faced a horrible fate. Though if he truly is dead Drago is not intent on going back to the way things were. He has been exposed to a life of adventure same as his father was and shares his courage and willing to learn the world outside. Drago is also intent on keeping people from being hurt or killed and would be willing to fight any evil to stop it from happening. He also still keeps aware for any sign of his father hoping he is alive and well.
Last edited by Deathmosis on Mon Sep 08, 2003 8:55 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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PostAuthor: TwoBears » Sat Aug 23, 2003 3:17 pm

Snarr Worgnar

Race: Half-Orc
Class: Warrior/Rogue

Snarr arrived along the coast-line of Avlis outside the City of Elysia with several other companions from across the sea. He came to this land from Kirith Ungol in search of battle and the Necromancers.

Educated in "Art of Orc Warfare" as the clan of Ghaash traveled eastward as they drove their enemy into the sea. As the years past Snarr became well adapt with BattleAxe and GreatAxe and was soon at his father's side hunting down the much hated Necromancers, who continued their quest hunting down and killing the dragons. For this, the Orcs have vowed an eternal vengeance against the Necromancers.

Snarr's interactions with other Races:
no special feelins, usually a case-by-case basis.
Elves: no special feelins, but exercises caution because a number of elves have become Necromancers. Usually Snarr holds back to see where the elf stands on some topics.
Dwarves: tends to be leery of Dwarves. Remembering the downfall of the Dragons and the Necromancers' coming of power, was assisted by the Dwarves. Snarr will give the Dwarves he encounters a chance before a judgment is passed, dispite the tainted racial bias.
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PostAuthor: Kit » Mon Sep 08, 2003 1:47 am

Human Female (S17 D11 C14 I13 W11 Ch15)

Remember that little girl that used to be in the slums of Mikona? Sleeping in a corner of an abandoned building? She used to go through the pockets of slain bandits left in the wake of hunting adventurers? She?s been seen outside of the slums a little lately. If you ask around some places like the Hang Brains Inn, then people seem to remember her?

"Spent most of her life as an orphan in the slums, begging and causing trouble. Pretty little thing though, seemed tough too. Her dad was a warrior in the army, a paladin of Gorethar or somethin? He was a good feller, trying to do the right thing fer his family I guess. Hmm. Not sure really, but he died up in the war zone a long time ago. Killed by elf mercenaries they say. Sad story. Her mom too, killed by some little gang members barely old enough to shave. She was on her own for a while, started doing bad things for gold. I wished she coulda got outta here. Took on sort of a mean streak about elves and the gangs and such. Started dragging around one of her father?s big swords around. There was some talk that she might be joinin the army, but I don't know what came of that. Came in here a while back and cut a bunch of people up. Just walked up to some guy, took out a sword, and hacked 'im down. Huge fight. Anyhow, haven?t seen much of her lately. I hope she?s found a better place than here?"
Last edited by Kit on Sun Jul 25, 2004 7:36 pm, edited 7 times in total.

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Sunwolf Elfkin

PostAuthor: loki02 » Mon Sep 08, 2003 8:19 pm

Sunwolf Elfkin, so named because he was born during a solar eclipse during the Year of the Wolf, is the son of Greybear of the Elk Tribe and his Elven companion Edalia Silverbane. Greybear met Edalia he had met during his adventuring days and after years travelling the road together he brought her back to see the ways of his people when he decided it was time to return home to help defend his tribe's land in the snowy plains of the north.
Sunwolf never really knew his mother as she was killed during an orc invasion when he was still but a mere cub. Raised by Greybear in the ways of the Elk tribe he knows next to nothing of Elven ways.
As soon as Sunwolf was able to hold a weapon Greybear began instructing him in the use of the axe, bow, spear, and dagger for in the cold harsh lands that the Elk Tribe called home fighting was inevitable and knowing how to protect yourself and your clansmen was integral to survival. From an early age Sunwolf also showed an aptitude for hiding and moving about unseen and unheard, a trait he surely inherited from his mother who it seemed could cross an open field in broad daylight in front of a score of eyes facing her way without drawing any attention to herself. At the young age of 10 Sunwolf began accompanying hunting parties acting as a scout.
While considered tall and well-muscled for a half-elf, Sunwolf is but a runt among his clan. Greybear stood near 7 feet tall and even an average sized man was at least half a head taller and 30 pounds heavier. Knowing that he could rely on brute force to survive in such an environment Sunwolf learned to rely on his quickness, wit, and ability to remain hidden to survive in the raids and hunts that were sure to be part of his life. He studied the body and learned what areas seemed to be the most vulnerable so that should the need arise he could deliver a crippling blow from the shadows without risking a direct confrontation with a much larger foe.
Sunwolf seems to have inherited a trace of the Blood Rage that coarses through Greybear's, and many others in the tribe, veins. He also has inherted some of the mental fortitude of the elves and seems to have a bit more control of his Blood Rage than most in the tribe.
After being raised by the Elk tribe and living among them for 18 years, participating in many hunts and aiding in the defense of the tribe a handful of times Sunwolf has decided it is time for him to find his own path and see more of the world. Like his parents Greybear and Edalia had, Sunwolf longs for the open road and adventure.

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PostAuthor: Sydney Losstarot » Sat Sep 13, 2003 11:28 am

Name: Sydney Losstarot
Race: Half-Elf
Allignment: Neutral Evil
Class: Cleric
Deity: Aarilax

Sydney comes from the misty and rough lands that border the Marshes of Drotid. He was born with almost cat-like eyes and the Clerics of Gorethar that hold sway in his village told everyone they felt a dark presence within him. But although his parents feared and hated him for his eyes they did not wish to give up their child and defied the will of the Priests. And so Sydney grew up but his youth was not a happy one. The children of the village mocked and beated him while calling him a "hideous abomination". He grew up nameless since his parents refused to name him and acknowledge him as their child. The Priests of Gorethar blamed him for everything that went wrong in the village. Sydney hated them for this and many a corpse found floating there was led there by following an "innocent" child.
After seven years a desease that not only affected the body but also ruined the souls of those who survived it struck Sydney's village. Sydney suffered from the desease as well but his soul was partially saved from its ruining effects. It was twisted and corrupted but not devastated and the villagers and the Priests of Gorethar who found themselves powerless against the desease gave in to silly superstition. They saw in Sydney the source of the plague that struck their village and drove him out into the wilds. Nearly beaten to death, exhausted and scared out of his mind Sydney was driven in the dangerous Marshes. His hatred for those who drove him out and mistreated him for all those years kept Sydney alive as he wandered through the Marshes-his wounds infected and nearly driven insane by feever.
But soon he learned to survive and he even began to love the rough land of Drotid. His merciless and ferocious nature served him well in the in the years he lived there like a beast, killing animals and wanderers alike for food and the ?shimmers? they carried in their purses. One day however Sydney was caught gnawing upon the carcass of a very unfortunate bandit by the fellow comrades of the bandit scout. Looking at the barely human creature that growled and clawed at him the leader of the bandits saw great possibilities in its ferocity and ordered his men to capture it. Two of the bandits died as Sydney ripped through the soft flesh of their throats and another one was blinded as the bewildered boy clawed his eyes out. But eventually they managed to capture him and after they beat him half to death he yielded to their rule. The bandits took in the boy and gave him the name he still carries to this day. For ten years Sydney lived among the bandits and they thought him all they knew about the arts of murder and fighting but they also trusted him to the care of a fallen priest that travelled with them. This old man saw the ferocious darkness of Sydney?s soul and taught him the ways of the God Aarilax. Soon Sydney became a powerful Cleric and the most ruthless killer of the band and throughout the years he earned their trust and respect. While living with human beings he took over many of their sins but rejected their virtues as weakness of will and soul. Sydney learned how to blend in with the masses of the great societies but in his heart he is still a wild beast.
At first sight Sidney looks like a normal Half-Elf but when one dares to look closer his true nature becomes horribly visible. His slender but surprisingly strong body is covered with strange runic marks he inflicted upon himself with a bone dagger and coal during some dark ritual. His golden cat-like eyes are as cold and cunning as that of a predator and his smile is that of a beast that sees his prey. It is when he smiles that his most distinctive and fearsome mark becomes apparent. His dagger-like teeth are like those of a predator and even among his comrades he was feared for his cannibalistic tendencies. For Sydney believes that he can absorb the strength and power of his fallen adversaries by consuming their flesh and drinking their blood.
Eventually Sydney betrayed the ones who raised him to a cruel Warlord of Kurathene in return for a full pardon of his crimes and a bag of gold. Without even a trace of gilt he spent the blood money he was given on women and ale while his former comrades dangled at the gallows.
For Sydney enjoys nothing more then a good drink and the company of women-be they there as company or as his mistress for the night. Around women of beauty he is a charismatic and very polite man and he would never dare raise a hand against a women unless challenged so. But never does the ale dim his ferocious nature nor do the women that satisfy his lusts calm his short temper. Many a brawl in the rougher establishments and brothels in the cities are started by his sharp tongue and usually ended at the tip of his dagger?or at the tips of his teeth.
Sydney hates the Paladins of Gorethar for he looks upon them as hypocrites and self-righteous fools. There is only one God Sydney reveares almost as much as Aarilax and that is the God of Death Dagath. For death fascinates Sydney and he knows that Dagath might one day hold his Life in his hands. Sydney shows respect for most Gods except those that preach kindness and what he sees as pitifull weakness.
Sydney loathes laws and rules and his temper quickly gets the better of his mind when he is ordered around. Because of his vile, merciless nature and love for gold Sydney quickly turned down the dark path of a mercenary. He will work for whoever pays him most and does not shun the most bloody and vile deeds. He is not a very subtle man and doesn't trouble himself with trying to hide his brutish and evil nature for he enjoys it to strike disgust, fear and hatred in the hearts of others. Those who hire him are always eager to pay him for his services as they know that those who do not might well end as his diner?
Last edited by Sydney Losstarot on Sun Nov 30, 2003 1:43 pm, edited 6 times in total.
Bloodlust! Hatred! Greed! They melt with Divine Magic and twist my very Soul! It burns!!
It burns like Fire in my veins! And that Fire shall consume all that oppose me!

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PostAuthor: Spell Singer » Wed Sep 17, 2003 2:34 pm

Name: Kaelyn MacCaddor
Class: Paladin
Race: Human (M'Checkian)

Kaelyn MacCaddor was born to yoemen parents struggling to make ends meet on land that was becomeing increasingly unproductive by the year. When at the age of seven he told them that he would be leaving soon and could he please go pack, they were more amused than anything. It took some days for them to recover from the shock of a Dwarf walking up to door with Kaelyn in tow and suggesting that he would be willing to sponsor Kaelyn to the Fighting Order of Gorethar. It took more discussion before they gave their blessing but soon enough Kaelyn was on his way to one of the training monestaries of Gorethar's Militant Order in Galdos.

Years of training under the Arms-Masters and the learned priests of Gorethar passed by as quickly as such things can...and when one is in a class taught by the Wise Alonso it seems at times that time itself stands still.

In honor of Gorethar's dwarven nature he took up training in the axe. He also soon learned to avoid drinking contests with the dwarvn asperients although he could hold his own quite honorably on a one for four basis.

But although not all asperients are successful in Kaelyn's case that special day came and while deep in meditation he felt soemthing stir within him and when he opened his eyes he saw things in a way he had never before. A week of testing, fasting and prayer passed before the final ceremony which marked his formal entry into the Fighting Order itself. Afterwards if anything his training was intensified until Arms-Master Oakenstaff was forced to admit that on at least one occasion sometime in his long life he could recall a Dwarf that Kaelyn should be able to best with an Axe and even the Wise Alonso conceeded that, well, sufficient to say, he passed (barely) but the actually saying of that took several hours.

Some days past and then the chief Priest of the monestary asked Kaelyn to deliever a message to the Shrine in the City of Ehks-Upsolon somewhat to the south of Mikona and for the first time in 14 years he left the area of the monestary. A series of minor "adventures", mishaps, and outright oddities (the last being his horse throwing a shoe) found Kaelyn talking prices with a blacksmith just outside the gates of Mikona.

Arriving at a "fair" price took some time and attracked the attention of several "Dominators" or "Gold Bedecked Peacocks of Uselessness" as Kaelyn comes soon to consider them. Feeling that the very air had become more foul he left in search of a place to cleanse himself....while washing at the well he started hearing screams and quickly grabing his weapons hurried back in their direction the same it turns out that he had left his horse.

When he arrives he finds the "Dominators" lounging about at their ease...their weapons and armor as pristine as the day they were minted and a blacksmith standing there looking at his forge and no horse to be seen. Asking what had passed and where by chance is my horse took some time but it soon became clear that the task of reshoeing had just been completed when a group of bug bears had appeared absconded with the horse, killed some nearby individuals and then left. Several times this story was interupted by Kaelyn gazing at the nearby "Peakcocks of Uselessness" and or their laughter. Well, as in all fairness, the work had been completed a rather out of pocket Kaelyn found hiimself walking through the gates of Mikona.

As this was not "exactly" how he had envisioned this trip turning out he was for a time a bit lost as how to proceed. Acquiring loggings in the nearbye inn proved a daunting task to his purse although he thought that the room he rented was not nearly so bad as others seemed to had more room than his cell in the monestary and the floor was wood rather than stone which made sleeping significnatly more comfortable.

A new day dawned and Kaelyn resolved to see the city. In the process of helping various locals with delieveries he also began to "SEE" the city and he soon recalled a statement of Arms-Master Oakenstaff that once a full Member of the Order coincidences and happenstance are rarely what they appear on the surface to be....a rare case of him being even more obscure than the Wise Alonso.... But it soon became clear to Kaelyn that there was much to do in this city for he found much which disturbed him, and even more that only with difficulty could he refrain from percipitous action. It is little surprise that he has met others of his Order engaged in their Gods work, at times he wonders if the entire Order would be enough. So he has begun to take steps to correct the wrongs he sees, to find out what needs be done and do it. Baring in mind Arms-Master Oakenstaffs parting injunction...."Lad, few corpses do very much in the way of Good!"

If asked what does he want his reply is he wishes only to do what his God wills him to do for he is his Gods instrument. A fact to him he takes most seriously.

(hmmm seems Kaelyn is in a mood more akin to the Wise Alonso as I write this long winded thing...)
(just thought I rescue this from the purgatory it had vanished into...)

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PostAuthor: Dashel » Tue Oct 07, 2003 2:22 am

Name: Dashel Knight
Race: Human
Class: Rogue/ Fighter
Alignment: Neutral Good
Age: Young (Unknowen believes to be around 23, takes birthday from a summer festival)
Born: The Kurathene Empire in the city of Arvanos

...Mummy...Mummy the little boy, no more that 7, slowly made it up the stairs, tears already forming in his eyes, somewhere in the pit of his stomach he knew something was wrong. Reaching the door where, his mother entertained her gentlemen friends, the boy hestitated. He wasnt ment to interupt, but somehow he knew something was wrong. As he pushed open the door, he could bearely undertsand the scene before him.

His mother lay up on the bed, her lifeless eyes staring straight at him, and red was everywhere. All over the room, there was splaters of red, as the scene came in and out of focus for the boy his body took over. He started to reach, and then the room swayed in and out of focus, he staggered dizzily down the stairs and into the streets, he was totally alone for the first time in his life and all he wanted to do was crawl into the gutter and die....

... his lungs burnt with every breath, his legs felt like lead but he had to keep running, the coin purse clutch tightly in his hand, the young thief couldnt work out what had gone wrong. For the last five years he had lived on the streets, done well for himself he considered himself gifted in his proffession. Which was were he couldnt understand how the merhcant and his guards had been on him so quick, it should have been a simple snatch and grab, but instead he was running for his life from the merchants guards. As he rounded the corner, he found himself on the ground, the world quickly moving in and out of focus and then he blacked out.

The press of human bodies being lined up to be sold by the slavers filled the makeshift auction block, looking around the young man couldnt work out where he was or how long he had been unconcious. His head still ached from where the guard had hit him, but it appeared rather than being handed over to the city watch he had been sold to slavers. As his time on the block approached, he figured his time was about up, he was too young to make a good labourer and the slavers wouldnt want to spend gold on keeping him alive to then, as he step on the block the young slave wonder how much his life was worth....

...the paige steped through the hall way and then moved quickly into the shadows as he slipped past a pair of guards more intend on their conversation than keeping an eye out. Once past them the young man deftly tripped a lock and entered a spacious study. As he moved over to an orniment desk and set to work unlocking it Dashel pondered the providence of fate. He had been bought at the auction block by a member of the noblity, and since that day had been trainned to be a page in his masters service, in that time he had learnt how to read and write, to fence, to speak many languages and all manner of fasinating things. With a grin, Dashel recalled that he had believe that was all that his master wanted of him.

With a twist of his wrist the draw was open and he was quickly copying the names of the people listed in the documents in the desk down. No if it was just another paige that was wanted, he would have died at the auction and some local farm boy would be waring his tarbard. He had been plucked form death to serve the crown in uncovering traitors, and other than if he was caught he would be hung as a common thief life wasnt too bad. As he slide the documents back into the desk, and sliped back the way he had come, the paige considered it might be an idea to take start looking to make a life for himself that wasnt inevitable going to see him dead....
"Dream what you want to dream; go where you want to go; be what you want to be, because you have only one life and one chance to do all the things you want to do."

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PostAuthor: 4x4_Ender » Wed Nov 26, 2003 6:59 pm

Name: Kitiara Maelstrom
Alignment: Chaotic Evil
Class: Fighter/Rogue/Blackguard

Kitiara was the first and last born of her family who took residence in a small farming village just outside Nagritch, a city in the lands of Hala. At that time, she bore her family's original last name: Northumberland. The first 10 or so years of her life went on as normally as any child's would have: she played with other children her age in the village, helped her parents with chores around the cottage, and ran errands to the city for food and other supplies. She learned to handle herself alone in the city of Nagritch mostly by not being seen when she wished, a result of her incredible agility and speed. The shadows seem to welcome her and blind mortal eyes from her appearance. She payed more attention to the evil and chaos that resides in the city of Nangritch than what good there is in the place: watching as people were robbed and killed on the streets, daring not to intervine and resenting the fact that she did not have the power to do so.

In Kitiara's early teens, as her strength grew in time from the physical labor she was burdened with every day, so did her interest in learning to fight and defend herself. So, she became a student of a great sword master that lived in her village. She was one of his best students and even learned to handle very large and exotic weapons, some of which are difficlt even for men to master. Her favorite of these is the double-bladed sword because the combat techniques involved utilize her agility and resemble more of a dance than anything. Finding that she was more experienced in combat and even stronger than some of the other children around her, including males, Kitiara began bullying other children into submission and formed somewhat of a hierarchy of followers. Through this method, she found an immunity to fear of being harrased by others as she had seen happen to people in the city of Nagritch.

However, one day rumor came to her village of a warlord raping the farmlands near nagritch in an attempt to lay seige to the city itself and gain ultimate power over the arcane presance that lies within. During the waning hours of that day, when the sun had set itself on the horizon and darkness crept across the land, an even greater unnatural darkness approached the city. It was the warlord, a necromancer that came to be know by the nickname "Inferioinus," which is loosly translated from the old tongue to mean "dead one." He layed waste to the city, accompanied by an army of living dead. Fire spewed forth from his hands and scorched all the cottages and farms, reducing them to ash and dust. However, as the people of the village were slain, shortly after their deaths their corpses rose again and joined in the slaughter. He was building his army for an attack on the city, an army of the dead at his command. After the darkness of night had moved through the city and the fires had consumed all they could, snuffing themselves out, there was one survivor that remained alive who had somehow been spared from the darkness and destruction: Kitiara. Although she had seen most of what had happened, while remaining hidden amoung the shadows, death had not come for her.

At the age of about 14, Kitiara was lost, confused, full of despair, and raging with hatred. However, there was another feeling she couldnt quite grasp or make sense of at first. She later found out that it was a feeling of admiration and a respect for the power she had witnessed. This feeling drives her now, as she seeks the power that necromancer weilded, and perhaps take it from him herself. In doing so, not only will she revenge her loss and hatred, but command a force to gain respect through submission of those that oppose her. Her new last name, Maelstrom, was given to her when she became older because of the twirling combat technique she uses with her weapons and also because of her strong, turbulent feelings of violence and destruction.

Kitiara's words to live by:
"To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength,
Gives in your weakness strength unto your foe;
And so your follies fight against yourself.
Fear and be slain, no worse can come to flight,
And fight and die is death destroying death,
Where fearing dying pays death servile breath." (quoted from Shakespeare)
"Many make a trade of delusions and false miracles, deceiving the stupid multitude." -Leonardo Da Vinci
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PostAuthor: Xeo » Thu Nov 27, 2003 11:12 am

Name: Kanga

Race: Halfling/CG

Class: Barbarian

Why i am in Elysia?

Kanga is 20 years old. Serching out his skills of a Barbarian, trying to learn from different cultures their skills and ways of life. As hes a young Barbarian he needs to test himself and grow his Barbarian skills, with a trade to take back to the White-Bear clan.

His personality is a mix of his Farrell up bringing of curiuos of nature and a basic educated look on things but also has the Barbarian style of act and movement that sometimes slips into conversations

Also to tell the tales of his adventures back home and of word of outside going ons. He mearly is following a vision of the Mighty Polar bear in his dream to do these tasks.

Why a halfling Barbarian in White-Bear clan?

Kanga was only 10 and was a outcast Halfling within Ferrell. His real name is Xeo but was to be changed to Kanga later in his life. He was picked on by the children alot because of certain childish things. The way he acted, looked, or even when he spoke would get a beating. Kanga had a un-natural rage inside him and would go crazy and reckless at times. He knew that he was a danger and left Ferrel to find people who could help him......

Kanga travelled greats distances, even passed Delgos and onto the forests of Tyedu. In Tyedu Forests he was cold and frozen. He passed out and was picked up by White-Bear hunters and taken back to the villiage. There was a year gap in his mind that he can not remember much of only flash backs the words Tal-Kryte and Orc..... Its puzzled his mind even to this day.

They had never seen a halfling before and were curiuos. When Kanga came round, he sow elders staring at him...

He was quick later to offer thanks and told them of his problem with the rage inside him.... They where quick to see the rage within him and after much debating they took him into the clan. He was taken in by a lone Barbarian Elder. Kanga worked very hard farming and cleaning sweatie Hide armours but through hard work he earned their trust and respect. The Elders teached him on how to control the rage and it give him incrdiable strength and speed, but this was a lenghty process and over time he was quick to master it.

Also i like forests and this is my current RP tastes, i say alot i am not a city guy.
Silk wrote:I don't know, I think flinging poo in a catapult could be pretty damn effective.
I know if I was on the battlefield and I got hit by a pile of shit... I'd probably go home.
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PostAuthor: Canaduh » Sun Dec 07, 2003 5:51 pm

Terho Bootneck
Race : Dwarf
Class : Barbarian
Alignment : Chaotic Nuetral
Birth Place : Deglos

Born in the deeps of Deglos, at the tender age of 4 his 6 brothers, 2 sisters, and both parents were brutally slaughtered by Water Elements. Terho meraculusly escaped. Growing up deep in the mines fending for survival. At the age of 20 Terho found his way up to the surface. Now well known around Avlis he's trying to make his living as a weapons crafter at the 4A. Terho loves to hunt giants and enjoys to meet new people. Terho is also trying to be a Barbarian of Gorethar.

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PostAuthor: Dirk Cutlass » Wed Dec 17, 2003 6:13 pm

Leopold Phefefhur
Race : Gnome (of course)
Class : Fighter
Alignment : Neutral Good
Birth Place : Deglos

Before I start propper, just to let you know the "h" is hardly pronounced at all - almost silent in fact, so my name is pronounced "Pef-eff-ur". Just thought I'd mention that so you all know.

I'm from South-East Deglos originally, and in fact I spent all my youth and middle-age there too - in fact let's face it I've always lived and worked there. That's one reason why I'm here now in fact - I decided it I was long over-due for a change of scenary.

I was a gem-miner at first, used to mine emeralds from the deep emerald mines, before it ran dry. (Actually I don't think it completely finished, I'm sure there is some veins still untapped, and one day I'll get down there again and prove it - but that's for another day). Anyhow, as I was saying, when the mine ran dry I decided to return home and pick up odd-job work here and there.

It was about this time that I enrolled in the South Deglosian Militia (the "hammer corps" - run by old Furmin "One Leg"... actually he did have two legs, but one was definitely longer than the other for sure). We were all volunteers in the militia, and only got paid a pittance really, just enough for food and clothes and the occasional ale of course. We were more like a "home guard" if you like, just patrolling the tunnel systems, keeping the vermin population, and replusing the occasional kobold incursion.

Old Furmin (may his soul rest in peace) taught us the old school of tunnel fighting, and very much based on letting the enemy coming to you - very little of that running around stuff. I can still hear him barking now "Protect those flanks!", "Force in numbers", "Hit the bloody thing!" - ah, what memories.

I served with the militia part time for nearly 50 years I guess (on and off), in between other odd-jobs, a little metal working here, some trading there, etc. But eventually, I decided it was a young-gnomes' work, not for old folk like me. So it was then, just a few weeks ago, that I decided to cash in my gem stash for these gold coins that seem so popular on the surface, and set forth upon the world to do a little travelling.

Well, after an initial hard time on the money front (I either lost some or was swindled - not sure which), I had to sell my armor to make ends meet, but fortunately after some kind donations, I am back where I started. Just me, my armor and the Vermin-Basher. I'm now ready to do a little travelling, and see the world outside Deglos!

My funds are a bit low at the moment, so I'll be doing a few odd-jobs as I travel around. If you need anything be sure to give me a shout. You can't miss me - I didn't see many other gnomes around these parts, and certainly there are very few wearing plate armor.

Last edited by Dirk Cutlass on Wed Jan 14, 2004 9:19 am, edited 1 time in total.
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PostAuthor: Draconis » Thu Jan 01, 2004 10:23 pm

Race : Dwarf
Class : Fighter
Alignment : Lawful Good
God: Gorethar

This be me story as best as one can tell it.

As a youthful dwarf I set forth to make me fortune in the lands of Rockhome. Shortly after arriving there, I joined a caravan promising places of great riches and adventure. This new land was filled with evil and misdeeds, the like none should ever see. After many years of fighting the evil in this new land I found my self being drawn to this land by a force I only know a name of, Gorethar.

I am here to find out what Gorethar needs of me.



My many years and travels have shown me that wealth is but a dream never realized.
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PostAuthor: Snorri Elfslayer » Thu Jan 01, 2004 10:44 pm

Snorri Elfslayer
Race : Dwarf
Class : Fighter
Alignment : Lawful Good
Birth Place: Deglos

Me Grandad moved te' Deglos when he were youn', there he met a woman tha' he marri'd an' had children. His children moved te' a min'n colony very deep down, which be where I were born.

I spen' mos' of me life in the min'n colony an' recen'ly decided te' move out an' make a liv'n out o' Bla'Smith'n.

Oh an by the way, me fam'ly name were earn'd by one o' me gran'parents, an' I have not'n against Elves. If ye' see me, please don' mention it, as its becomm'n a nusence.
Snorri Elfslayer
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PostAuthor: Slade_brimstone » Tue Jan 06, 2004 8:09 am

Nord Fyne
Race : Half-Orc
Class : Fighter
Alignment : Neutral evil (started chaotic good im workin my way to lawful neutral)
Birth Place: Great Northern Wilderness (far away land)

Nord's story (IC)

me nord me story is long me tinks

me dad was raised as a slave by a outlayin town .. day used im to plow da feilds an uder labor ..

one day a group o humanand dwarven barbarians raided da town .. seein is chance to fre imself e fought along side da invaders

e was welcomed into the group and soon found a human mate among dem ..

soon day add children an me was born and day moved into a outlaying town to ave a better place to raise der kids

all went well untill one day at about da age of 12 i came across some guy wearin armour sayin e was a knight o da land here to clean da land o my kind .. me add nowhere to run and me was impaled on is sword

before me got toda darkness me see's me dad runnin at da knight wit a hammer....

me's wake laters and see me dads cookin supper and me mums tendin da wound in me chest we ate good dat night still dont know where da meat came from ...

anyways when me able to walk again me dad gives me da knights blade and says " take this and learn to use it .. let what could of taken your live now be the way you live your life"

me promise me dad me woulds and i train fer long time .....we neber ran out o meat again cuz me practice on deers an stuff

when me turn 18 me dad tells me to go and live my life so me sets off .. me tells him i make dis sword powerful and well known

i travel alot i serve in a few forts ere and dare about da age of 26 i reach avlis me desides to stay an elp da people ere me already make manny friends

tho i dont meber der names

i meber fint me calls im lil one cause e hates it when i do
din ders sinn him nice fellow but me not think e likes me
den dirs da lady i get bellies fer
dir many uders but me bad wit names

well me sees you all laters .. mabey me can elp you someday

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