TerraRosa (playing thread.)

[mcpop9]

Spoiler: Auron Geralt

Name : Auron Geralt

Race : Half Elf

Vision : Low Light

Alignment : Chaotic Good

Age : 36

Class/Profession : Bounty Hunter

Appearance :

At 6'2'' and weighing in at roughly 160 pounds, Auron looks to be rather attractive for a half-elf, especially with a couple of scars going his nose and top lip along the right side; which has left a permanent gap in his cerulean blue goatee, which has faint traces of his natural dark grey hair colour. Speaking of hair, it is roughly shoulder length, and the natural dark grey can be seen closer to the roots. Dark green eyes, lightly tanned skin, and a slim but muscular body shape, along with a small gold ear ring on the left ear, both ears of which are slightly pointed.

Spoiler

Note: The armour has lost some of its shine, the detailing isn't as profound when it was new, but still recognisable, and lacks the gems hanging along the waist. Whilst the longbow has been recently polished, but the dark green ivy pattern has faded a little.

Inventory :

Auron's most treasured items are a straight edged steel longsword, a pair of curved metal daggers, and a bow made from Ironbark which has been carved with an intricate ivy like pattern; all of these were gifts from his Elven father, who used them back when he was part of a nomadic clan. As for arrows he carries two separate types, some which are easily able to pierce flesh, and others which are good for heavy armour.

Amongst the other items he carries with him are contained mostly with in a sturdy leather rucksack, they are a bedroll, tent, whetstones, lantern, rations, burlap sacks, basic medical supplies, and a journal. In a separate pouch on his left hip is where he keeps his money, whilst on the right are a couple of canteens filled with water.

Languages : Common and Elvish (Can speak a little bit of Dwarven and Halfling)

Biography :

Auron was born as the offspring of an Elven father and a Human mother. His father, Agate, used to be a hunter/craftsman for his High Elf clan in the forests near Far's Reach; a trade he continued to work at around the time he fell in love with a bard by the name of Elissa.

A month or so after Auron's birth, they moved to a small town by the name of Ryvern's Creek, which was a day's journey from Happy Apples. Childhood for the young Half-Elf was mostly a pleasant one, he learnt to fight using the weapons of his father's race, he learnt how to track and hunt wildlife, and he even began to gain knowledge in crafting weapons of his own, particularly swords and arrows. Elissa meanwhile taught him how to act with a sense of charisma and charm, even tried to teach how to play the guitar, but he had trouble with that, it didn't stop him to wanting to learn though.

By the time Auron was in his early twenties, he had become an accomplished sword-fighter, besting many bandits that had tried to pillage the town, which had steadily grown bigger over the years. This attracted the attention of the town's Sheriff, who had been looking for a suitable replacement as he was getting too old to carry on the responsibilities.

His parents were supportive, although he originally planned to succeed his father in running the craftsman shop; eventually he realised that he would be doing a lot of good by keeping the people safe. So, on his 24th birthday, he was sworn in as Ryvern's Creek new Sheriff. Over the next ten years, with the help of his father who supplied weaponry to the guards, the town grew more prosperous.

One day though things changed, Auron suddenly felt the urge to travel, to see the world beyond the borders of his home. Maybe it was the boredom of there being little crime, or perhaps it was his Elven half longing to experience the call of nature. After making the necessary preparations, he passed the duty over, and set off on his journey, promising his parents that he would send them letters when he could, and would help bring people who had done wrong to justice, even if it meant having to break some rules to do it.

Spoiler: Ghost

Name: Ghost (True name was forgotten long ago)

Race: Human

Vision: normal vision

Alignment: (Neutral/Good)

Age: 25

Class/Profession: Assassin

Appearance: He has a slender frame of body, making him fast on his feet and able to dodge easily. His hair that is seen through the hood is a midnight color. His eyes are a dark blue. His skin is a bit pale as he hardly ever seen walking around much in the light and much less out of his armor unless he needs to take a bath or wash any blood out of his armor.

Armor: A black leather chest piece, that also goes long with gloves and boots. A hood that cover up his head and a scarf wrap around his mouth. Making his eyes and nose the only things visible to see.

Inventory: As an Assassin he carries a good supplies of different items, though not to many of things. Carries the most deadly of toxins within his some pouches to bring down or at least slow down stronger or tougher enemies. A human bow that was well crafted as well as a arrow quiver fill with arrows. His up close weapon of choice are two daggers that he hold by his waist sides.

Languages: He understands most languages though cannot speak any due to losing his voice while he was within the cult. Though he refuse to say how he lost it, but he can speak in sign language.

Biography: When ghost was but a child, he was taken and raise within a secret cult of assassins. The purpose of the cult was to hunt anyone who threatens humans, due to the fact that a lot of other races tend to view humans as weak and easily to prey on. Though the cult was slowly starting to become paranoid with anything that wasn't human.

Though the cult was made only of humans. To counter any species that they might have to deal with, they make sure to study all and every weakness they could. For Ghost training, it was both a physical and a mental training. Every day and night was for survival, being beaten to a inch of his lives and as well surviving in the harsh of places to make sure they could take any amount of pain and adapt anywhere they needed to go. When he wasn't training, he was studying about races and their language.

After years of this, Ghost became quite the killer and earn the name of Ghost due to his creepy ability to seemingly make no noise while moving. Though his world-view change when he and his fellow squad were sent out cleanse out a band of orcs attack a nearby villages. The group found the tracks and eventually the orc encampment. The attack was swift and deadly, the orcs didn't know what hit them before they were dead.

While looking around the camp to make sure they were all dead, they came upon the prisoners. Some human, others non-human, they seeming were going to be sold in the black market. As Ghost was about to free them all, his team slaughter the non-humans slaves. Saying their orders were to make sure nothing non-human survive. Angry by this, ghost brought this up to his task master. Though was surprise to find out that he did give the order for them to kill any non-human. It was then Ghost knew he had to get away from the cult. During the night, he fled away from the base of operation. Leaving nothing behind and making sure he didn't leave anything for them to follow him. He did learn from the best after all.

If I need to change anything (Or forgot to edit some places within my bio) let me know.

Spoiler: Kane

Name: Kane BlackTalon
Race: Fire Genasi
Class: Elementalist Druid and Pyrokineticist
Vision: Darkvision
Alignment: Neutral Good
Patron Deity: Shimye-Magalla.
Gender: Male
Age: 22

Appearance: Tall and Fit with tapered ears that betray an elven heritage. He has unkempt dark red hair and a short beard. His skin is pale with an odd ashen quality. His orange eyes glow like burning coals when angered or in the darkness. His skin feels warm to the touch at all times. Smells like smoke when angered. Considered handsome.

Armour and Clothing: Lamellar Armour (Leather replaced by Darkleaf Cloth, Metals replaced by Darkwood Ironwood), a Silk Undershirt (Black), a Silk Longshirt (Black), Fingerless Leather Gloves (Black), A Leather Belt (Black, with various pouches), Silk Trousers (Black), Hardened Leather Jackboots (Black, and waterproofed), a Silk Hooded Cloak (Covered in patterns of red, orange, and yellow that shift over time).

Weapons: Maiar (A fire-forged greensteel khopesh, with a short length of silver chainmail attached to the hilt), a Klar, a Silver Barbed Dagger, a Serrated Steel Knife, and a Hand Axe.

Equipment: A framed backpack, a bedroll, a crowbar, wandermeal (7 days worth), spell components, a gear maintenance kit, a winter blanket, flint and steel, an iron pot, three waterskins, a hammer, four pitons, 50 feet of elven silk rope, a hacksaw, a healers kit, and assorted metal coins.

Languages: Common, Elven, Ignan, Sylvan, and Druidic.

Biography: Born to a tribe of nomads known as the Black Talons living in Eden valley. The tribe was composed of wild elves, humans, and a few half-elves. He was treated as a bit of an oddity amongst the tribals, even before they found fires spontaneously forming around him. He was taken in by the leading shaman of the tribe, as it became even more obvious that he was different. The shaman taught young Kane how to control his powers slowly and eventually the man began passing his sum knowledge to the child, intending him to be a successor.

Years passed and the man who Kane had come to call father died, it was time for Kane to take over, but the other tribals refused to listen to him. A Half-Elf in his sixties took control of the tribe and had took away any power that Kane would have gained. He left realizing he wasn't needed, most likely unwanted as well after a year of the mans rule. He took with him his masters possessions as well as the few that were his own.

Kane began wandering the valley looking for a new life a little over a year ago.

Companion Name: Marra
Companion Type: Elemental Envoy - Emberling
Companion Appearance: A Five foot tall elemental shaped like a vaguely female humanoid. Appears to be composed of obsidian, covered in glowing veins that seem to be filled with magma, and eyes seemingly made of burning coals. She would smell faintly of smoke and sulphur if one were to be be close enough.

Open to suggestions, comments, criticism, ideas, anything really as long as it stays constructive.
If anyone wants to do a shared backstory just let me know.

Spoiler: Saver of Ashes

Name: Saver of Ashes; but he insists most people call him 'Aaahz'... and if you're another goblin or orc... DON'T call him by his tribe-name. He will gut you. Or send lightning up your ass... or set you on fire... yessss.... fiiirrreee mmmmmmm....

Race: Goblin

Vision: Dark Vision

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Age: 37 (?)

Class/Profession: Wizard
When he's trying to impress someone, he wears a set of deep blue robes inlaid with gold-leaf along the trim, that he cut off a dead human mage he 'found'. He also tends to hide his nose and chin under the robes when trying to impress someone, and given the... unique texture of his upper head, and glowing red eyes, can give one the impression that you're talking to a mage from another world entirely. At least until he opens his mouth and you realize that you're talking to a goblin. Otherwise, same robes, but his head will actually poke out of his robes, and you'll see a very pointy, but short nose and chin. His skin is a bit more of a dark green than that, and his staff is made out of metal with some rubies and other shiny rocks he found tied to it with thick leather strippings, and glued to it with industrial-strength tar.

Inventory: There's that staff I mentioned a minute ago. Its made out of a strange black metal that fell from the sky in a glorious FIREBALL of destruction! He also attached as many rubies and shiny rocks to it as he could find in the, quite possibly, vain hope of being taken seriously by the mage community. (same story with the robes) He has a small satchel on his back with a bag of holding in it, where he keeps all of his spell components and his two "spellbooks" which are made entirely out of tree-bark and dog-flesh. In the satchel itself, he carries around a set of extra shiny throwing knives (in case he runs out of spells to use), a nasty looking jagged dagger (its mainly for show, but it can do some damage if he does decide to use it on you). He never carries potions in his pack and refuses to let other people use them on him in any way. DON'T try to make him take one. Most of the spells in his two little spellbooks are either fire-related or lightning-related. There are no defensive, healing, or summoning spells in his knowledge-base. (though he might be persuaded to learn how to summon a fire elemental later)

Languages: Goblin, Common, and Draconian. (he is very intelligent for his... size, but he also beat a young dragon at a game of cards once)

Biography:
Aahz is from one of the smaller tribes of the Eden Valley. And as such, one of the more xenophobic and tribalistic ones. He found a magic scroll for fireballs at a young age, and rather than immediately using the scroll, he tried to understand the spell written on it. After a few months of hidden effort, he managed it, and impressed his shaman. Until that is, it was discovered exactly how he had learned to use that spell. They drove him out upon learning that little tidbit. So, he's been wandering around for a while now, had one or two crazy adventures of his own, and has somehow managed to survive this long.

Spoiler: A fancy lady

Name: Lady Mantha

Race: Mixed race, Orc and Elf

Vision: Dark, would only be low if it wasn?t for her profession.

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Age: 20

Class/Profession: Rogue

Appearance:
Given her mixed race status the lady has a distinctive (being polite about it) appearance. Elves aren?t supposed to be green for one, though it?s not the emerald of a lot of orc being a more pale lime. Her form is somewhere between slender and built, statuesque you might say given how she towers over most humans. The eyes are the usual elven wide and round but there distinctly feral amber rage glare is orc in origin.

She?s got a bizarre beauty about her, those shapely elven curves don?t exactly fit over an orc frame and the blond whips of messy blond hair are a bit out of place. You could even say her tiny tusks are the reason she?s got a winning smile.

She?s got a fair bit of muscle built up but it?s tightly held to her, so she can still fit into tighter spaces (and outfits) which is vital when your job involves being where you shouldn?t.

Inventory:
Her armour is the standard rogue?s jump suit; the black leather blends in well with the darkness and there are plenty of hidden pockets, generally filled with your former valuables. The boots are built to dig in good and strong even on the trickiest of terrain.

And the real gem of her collection is her cane (between one and a half and two dwarves tall). It?s an ornate oak staff with the quirkiest of heads. On one side is a long curved hook useful for picking pockets and invaluable when it comes to climbing. The other is a much blunter beast that comes dauntingly down on an unsuspecting head.

She also carries a lock pick, not one of those flimsy one use things; this is a quality all mechanical like, special. Though it?s multifunctional so lock pick is a bit simple, sure it does locks like no one?s business but this brass instrument is great for any mechanical problems you may have traps for instance.

Finally there?s rope, a good length of rope will never not be useful. Whether scaling shear rock faces or ensuring people you?d rather were free to move stayed put.

Languages: Common, Elven and Orc

Biography:
Childhood was mostly happy if not dull. Parents did well for themselves; her orc mother was ruthless as always but financially, made good money as a trader enough to support a disowned high elf noble and their little bastard. Aside from the stigma of her race (surprisingly the elf half is more of a problem) she was originally pretty happy.
Her personality had yet to split and money was good. However it wasn?t too last, as her mother lost the economic edge she once had so things got difficult.

Originally when there was only one Mantha theft was simply a means to an end, with a handmade cane (the one she currently wields is several generations after her first one) she started small, taking what she needed to survive.
Like I said up to that point life was dull, the occasional fight with local dwarfs kept her occupied to an extent (the fighting being mostly playful) but not entirely, not even playing with the occasional mechanical curiosity that turned up in the markets could keep her occupied for so long.

She took to thievery well, years of having to try extra hard to make friends was ideal for training a would-be con woman, her mother?s charms must have been passed on after all. Her parents to say the least weren?t pleased, never mind the fact that her work brought in more than her father had in his whole life time. She was disgracing two separate and distinct family lines (the problem with too many only children). Her more violent activities didn?t help either; it was a matter of protection she didn?t like to do it but it was effective. Not that she was an indiscriminate killer; you didn?t always need to kill.

It?s unclear when the split happened but it wasn?t instant, a small bit of double meaning to start with was all but a life of lying drove a wedge between each life.

Now there are two, the Thief a high class lady adept at moving though any social situation and chances are already planning to rob you blind, but a total pacifist. Then there?s the Assassin (for want of a better word) she?s arguably more moral, yes she?s not got qualms about her violence but she doesn?t kill indiscriminately.

If they weren?t the same person the thief and assassin would probably want nothing to do with each other (they share a body and sometimes still don?t) but neither is enough to survive alone, the Thief needs someone to cover their ass when things get to hot and can?t be solved with charm (also someone to keep the kleptomania in check) and there?s no way the assassin would last having to deal with people she couldn?t just out fight.

As for what brings her here she?s on the run. Which one is to blame is debatable; the assassin blames the idiot who tried to steal from a visiting noble in the middle of the year?s biggest party. While the thief blames who ever cocked up tying up the loose ends.

Three Leaf is apparently too primitive to have heard of her so though a combination of her silver tongue and skills with her instruments she?s managed to get her way into an adventuring party. Either the danger hasn?t occurred to her or maybe she?s actually looking for it.

Any thoughts on this?

Spoiler: Victor Seras

Name: Victor Seras
Race: Human
Vision: Normal
Alignment: (Lawful/Neutral)
Age: 25
Class/Profession: Ranger/Huntsman
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Appearance: At a little over five feet tall and slightly built, Victor is best described as 'wiry'. Despite his small stature he is very strong, with a remarkable level of endurance, as side effect of his life in the woods. Due to the fact he spends the majority of his life out-of-doors, his skin is a deep suntanned brown, and his hair and beard are both very long (although he keeps them both braided for the most part).

His clothing is simple, consisting of a woollen tunic and trousers, sturdy leather boots, a good pair of gloves, and a hooded cloak to keep the weather off.

Inventory: He carries a small pack that holds his bedroll, money, some dried rations and medicinal herbs. On his belt he carries a broad bladed knife, and a quiver of crossbow bolts (the quiver has both small and large game bolts, as well as a few armour piercing ones). His crossbow is a simple well made model, suitable for small or medium game hunting.

Languages: He speaks Common, and understands some Hill Dwarvish

Biography: Victor grew up in a small village, the eldest of three boys, not far from the Hill Dwarf town of Silverfoot. His father was a huntsman and woods guide, who did a lot of trade with the Dwarves. From a young age Victor and his brothers, learned how to move and survive in the woods, how to hunt, what herbs where good for treating ailments, and how to survive in all kinds of weather.

As he grew older he began hunting much as his father did, supplying the ever ready Dwarves with game, and making a good living at it. While he always wanted to explore, and see more of the world, his obligations to his family kept him near home until his brothers grew capable enough to take his place.

Satisfied his family could cope without him, he packed what little gear he needed and set off to see what was beyond his own little patch of forest. Three years later he still finds himself driven by a wander lust.

Spoiler: Mistling

Name: Forgotten, he goes by Mistling.

Race: Lightfoot Halfling

Vision: Normal in basic form, other forms vary

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Age: Mid 20's

Class/Profession: Predator

Appearance: Mistling is a wild one. He is dressed as one in tune with nature, entirely camouflaged at will, with wild looking hair and an abnormal face, something about him seems twisted. He walks on all fours generally, unless in company with someone he doesn't know. He speaks relatively well, but is not a social type and will typically follow someone before being friendly with them. This is driven further by his animal like nose, cat eyes and general mishmash of parts.

He has multiple forms however, and as a mix between a druid and divine magic wielder, some of them are quite powerful. Almost all of them force him to forsake his small stature and will typically make him very large. His first form is of a midnight black werewolf, after that he has a flying mammal mix between a flying squirrel and a bat with sharp talons and a ton of agility. He can also become a large spider, a small mouse, a smaller flea, a giant flea, and a bear.

Most of these forms must be coaxed out by stress or combat need. His giant flea form is the only one capable of healing him as it can suck the life force out of foes from an impressive distance. The flea is the guise of his god and uses a mixture of shadow magic and physical magic in order to extend his mouth out an impressive distance. Once caught, a foe without assistance rarely survives.

Inventory: Because his flea form is capable of healing him, and he typically hunts, Mistling rarely carries anything at all. He doesn't have pockets and is a carefree fellow.

Languages: Basic, though he can understand animals in a basic sense. Not direct communication, but more of a general understanding.

Biography: Mistling was a wanderer, or so he remembers. It's hard to remember, his mind repressed most of it. A general feeling of his is that someone important somewhere came into that damnable forest with him, and then they were lost. Not to the forest, but to the goblins. The Goblins had been charmed by a sorcerer and that bastard had kidnapped them for who knows what purpose. Mistling never found out, and his friend died before he could escape. Cold, alone and near death, Mistling found an opportunity to escape when goblins began fighting over a tattered piece of cloth left by the sorcerer. As he escaped, Mistling began to become one with the wilderness. He didn't want to go home, he wanted revenge.

The old god of parasites and monsters, Nulthite appeared to him one day, looking to make a deal. Mistling would forever forget his past, and serve Nulthite as his avatar of beasts. Without much choice, Mistling quickly agreed and from that point, he was unstoppable. Goblins began disappearing day after day, discarded, drained, and half eaten corpses thrown about. Soon many began to panic and the sorcerer had to come out himself, only to be challenged by a werewolf. The Sorcerer attempted to use a fire spell, but Mistling changed into his Fleabeast form and consumed the Sorcerer. From them on, anyone unfortunate enough to wander into the forest became his food. It took a few years, but eventually he regained his sanity and Mistling now seeks a new life.

Spoiler: Veronica

Name: Veronica

Race:human female

Vision: standard for a human

Alignment: Neutral/Evil

Age:25

Class/Profession: Sorceress

Appearance:Long black hair, pale blue eyes and Caucasian in color. Her arms, legs and torso have been tattooed with runes and symbols to aid her spell casting, in place of a staff or wand. She is in decent shape, and by most human standards is considered pretty despite the 'cold' expression her eyes generally convey

She dresses in fine robes [http://th04.deviantart.net/fs71/PRE/i/2012/337/b/c/the_mercurian_sorceress_by_engkit-d5mx4hp.jpg] most the time, ones that generally do not impair movement and only on extremely rare times does she actually show skin below the neck

Inventory: on her right hip she keeps a book of spells in a holster, this book contains spells she knows, but not well enough to 'quick cast', on her left, a finely crafted Rapier that's been enchanted to not interfere with spell casting.

Languages: in addition to the 'common' used all over, she speaks Elven and Orcish. Elvan because of her High Elf great grandmother, and Orchish out of necessity though she despises dealing with Orks

Biography: Veronica was born to a pair of Mages in Eden Vally. her fathers side is purely human, but her great grand mother on her mothers side is a High Elf, as such most of her magical training came at the hands of her Elven kin. While not particularly good or bad at one one school of magic, she gravitated toward elemental spells and curses, and to supplement her lack of outstanding talent, she was instructed in the use of a martial weapon of her choosing, she chose one handed swords, favoring the rapier in particular.

And this is how her youth, and most her life was spent. Studying magic, conducting the odd magical experiments with a colleague, practicing her swordsmanship or just reading. However, she eventually grew bored of this, so when the call went out for 'adventurers' she giggled, then expressed her interest. Meandering through the woods had to be more interesting, and who knows what treasures she might find.

Enjoy

Spoiler: Lyra Annora

Name: Lyra Annora

Race: Human

Vision: Normal

Alignment: Neutral Good

Age: 21

Class/Profession: Divine Rage Mage

Appearance:

Spoiler: Normal Lyra

Lyra has medium length black hair with piercing green eyes. Her skin is pale. She bears a birth mark on the palm of her left hand in the shape a seven-pointed star.(see below). If asked about this, she glares but otherwise ignores the question

Spoiler: Birthmark

When in reasonable safety (such as while sleeping, in towns, etc) Lyra wears a long white robe, that starts with a V-neck and ends just below her ankles. When this is not the case, she can be found in an outfit similar to the one above. A pair of holes exist in the back for some unknown reason (covered by a white cape). Both outfits have the following symbol (see below) blazoned upon them, a simple silver necklace with the same rune always hangs from her neck, faintly glowing.

Spoiler: Holy Symbol

However, as she calls upon her divine powers, she begins to transform into a horrible monster. As the monster takes hold, she becomes more powerful but begins to lose her ability to restrain herself; sending her into a berserk fury

Spoiler: Other Lyra

Inventory: Aside from her necklace (made to glow by a minor spell she casts each day), Lyra wears a chain shirt beneath her clothing for protection, some basic traveling gear (backpack, bedroll, tent, rope, water-skin, trail rations compass etc), a pouch with the components she needs to cast spells, and a large, frighteningly sharp Zweihander, she wears on her back. The sword is covered with holy script making it impossible for her "other" self to use and the perfect weapon against her in such a form - it's a last resort should she lose complete control, to incapacitate her or kill her.

She carries the Holy Text of Marais, a dozen healing potions for emergencies, and some travel funds (enough to pay for food and lodging for a few days for herself as needed). Finally, she has several long chains covered in holy script - just in case.

Languages: Common, Demonic (a side effect of her birthmark), and Celestial (from her training)

Biography: Lyra was born in the small fishing village in Eden, so small as to not have a proper name. Lyra's story begins before she was born. Her parents were simple folk - her mother and father both fishers and children of fishers. They were both devout followers of Marais, Goddess of the Sun and Bounty. Lyra's mother however, despite her worship of the goddess of bounty, was barren. She prayed each day for a child to the goddess, and month by month, her prayers went unanswered. Then, one day, after many years of trying, she became pregnant. Overjoyed, both parents went to the small temple each day to thank their goddess for her bounty. 9 months later, Lyra was born, and their joy died. When Lyra was born, upon her hand was a seven pointed star - a clear symbol of Legion - the evil beyond the veil of the world. Upon seeing the mark, Lyra's mother - already weakened from the difficult birthing - surrendered, unable to take the shame of their child. Her father, unable to cope with the loss of his wife, and faced with a child born of prayers somehow given to Legion - took his own life in the sea that had brought him his life thus far.

As was the tradition of the town, Lyra was to be raised by the temple. However, the temple was unable to take upon the responsibility of raising a child that bore the mark of Legion. Instead, they asked the congregation for someone willing to take the responsibility. Silence fell through the congregation, until one old woman; a friend of the family and one of the most devout members herself, took the job. Her name was Miral, a town healer. Though she was old and frail, she felt the calling to help the child in need.

Miral raised Lyra to become a true believer in Marais herself. Lyra took to the religion with a devotion not even her parents could match. Before she had come of age, she was already one of the most active members, followed Marais's teachings more closely then anyone, and even helped to find and raise funds to expand the temple. By her 16th year, she was expected to be the next town priestess, and maybe even a high priestess in a large church in a large town. Her mark was all but forgotten, and even those that remembered dismissed it as an unfortunate coincidence. Then, on the 17th anniversary of her birth, such beliefs were shattered. On that day, at the moment she had come into the world so long ago, her birthmark glowed with an unnatural, crimson red light, and her life changed. The mark was no mere unhappy coincidence, but a "blessing" of Legion. From her back grew a pair of massive black wings, her pale skin turned a dark red, and a pair of large horns and a tail grew from her form. Her hands and feet became claws and even her green eyes became a pool of darkness. Miral, witnessing the transformation, confronted the beast and - through a combination of luck, knowledge, and ingenuity - lead her into the woods, where she could trap Lyra. The following morning, Lyra returned to normal - save the faint glow of her birthmark. Fearing a return, Miral and Lyra did what they could, chaining her in their home to the basement floor. However, night after night, the beast did not appear. Feeling at least somewhat confident in their safety, they made their next move: a plan to control the evil within her. Through a combination of what knowledge Miral had and shear willpower, Lyra learned to both repress and summon the powers. With this control however came temptation. Lyra found a calling within her mind to unleash the beast - to call it forth. Seeking a way to more permanently suppress the beast, Lyra visited the town Priestess of Marais - where she hoped to learn the truth of her curse and how to overcome it. Several weeks of divining brought her some truth. Whatever was in her, was an aspect of Legion - a force that only Marias could fight. Somehow, she had been infused with the evil of Legion - given the power to tempt Lyra away from her true path. To combat the evil, she was taught the spells of Marais. This created a second problem however. For when she tried to summon the agents of Marais, she found herself summoning monsters from the abyss instead - even her magic was routed through her unkind master! Slowly, she has been trying to force her magic to be drawn from Marais, but such ability has yet escaped her. Since then, Lyra has trained everyday without break - save the day Miral died of old age and the day of her funeral. Having learned all Eden had to offer, Lyra has decided to leave her home to search for a way to remove the evil of Legion from her.

Formerly a happy, honorable child, Lyra is a shattered remain of her former self. A miniature religious war rages within her mind - her will vs. that of her enemies. Lyra has become a hardened woman, unable to accept even the smallest error on her part - for she knows that each error is a step in the wrong direction. This however, applies to herself more then anyone else. She would give the shirt off her back to aid another in need, and to risk her life is nothing to her - she faces the evil residing in her soul on a daily basis - an enemy sword is like a vacation.

Over her years of training, Lyra has learned several kinds of magic. Lyra knows healing magic - she can heal the injuries of her allies, though they come at a cost to her - such is the way of Legion; in effect she takes on the wounds of others. She also knows summoning magic - though using it calls forth demons as apposed to the angelic host she wishes for. Her last branch of magic is binding magic. This is the one form of magic she has that she knows is not drawn from Legion as it comes from runic script of the holy text, not her own power. Using this, she is able to repress her powers - though the complexity of the runes prevents it from working in any real combat situation.

Let me know if anyone has any comments/question/concerns/suggestions or if anyone wants to make a shared backstory (we are all from the same region after all)

[hr]
This is the world of TerraRosa, a world that is distinct because of its ages of time. Each age is marked by major events that occur within it. You are in the small community of Three forests, a village centered in a bowl formation of low mountains and hills that has been dubbed "Eden" by it's inhabitants for how large it is and how lush the bowl is with greenery.

Three Forests is small village, mixed origins

about a day's travel north is a halfling settlement called Happy Apples, for the thriving apple orchards in and around the community.

A two and a half days to the west and north a bit is a settlement called Far's Reach for how close it is to the rim and a last stop for travelers continuing west.

To the east for threedays travelis a Hill dwarf community called silverfoot for the silver in the foothills of the mountains that the small town is famous for.

In the small town of Three Forests, in the valley of Eden, there is an Inn. In the particular inn, a group of travelers, some from the valley and other not, have gathered in a tavern because of rumors of riches and adventure. The night was young and some goblin was buying rounds for everyone in the inn's tavern, spending gold like she was made of the stuff. A merry tavern band was in the corner, playing a cheery tune.
The band was made up of halflings, who were enjoying themselves and their music throughly.

There were cheers and shouts of joy as another round went out.

 

[TheDoctor455]

Saver of Ashes took a sip of his ale, which while already warm, wasn't quite enough for his tastes, so the little green fireball set off a minor cantrip on the bottom of his pint (which looked comically over-sized for someone of his... stature) to make it piping hot. Still not enough to burn the savy pyromancer's hands, but just about right to suit his tastes. He took a few more gulps of it before daring to approach the goblin lady.

"Erm... escuse me," he began, then cleared his throat to get her attention, and then, in a booming voice (well, as booming as a little goblin can manage), "Hallo! Goblin Ale-Mistress!" he started fumbling his words again, "Um... uh..." he took another swig and coughed again, "I would like to know where you came into that kind of gold, madam! And if there is anything you would like 'assistance' with, you have only to ask!"

Saver of Ashes put on his best charmer's grin, which showed off his fangs nicely, but no matter what he did, there was just no chance of him coming off as fearsome or dashing with his mouth and chin poking out of his robes.

"The Great and Mighty Aahz is at your service!"

 

[mcpop9]

Upon closer inspection, the goblin had a dark robe on herself, her face concealed. "You're drunk , go sit back down and enjoy the drinks." She said to him in a rather scruffy voice. Her entire demeanor seemed hunched over as she sat atop the barstool. The innkeeper however, gave a little smirk, somewhat chuckling under her breath. "Poor little fella." She said and continued to wipe down the bar top.

 

[Outcast107]

Ghost had been traveling for a long time by now. Always seem on the run just to stay ahead of any assassins from his old cult that might be after him. He never heard of anyone leaving before but he didn't feel like finding out what happens to them. The sky seem clear for now but that could easily change at any moment notice. While Ghost continue on the path, he spotted a town upahead.

Smiling lightly under his scarf he decide to make a quick rest stop there. Surely their should be a Inn to stay in for the night. Hurrying towards the town as he made his way in with ease. The town it self seem quite nice, and out of the way from where he from. Exploring the town until he found the said Inn as he heads inside. Hearing the upbeat music and the crowd of people cheering and drinking all their troubles away.

He heads to the back to get a seat out of prying eyes. Not wanting to be seen much or talk to if he could help it. Not many knew how to talk with their hands anyways. While sitting down he thinks about what to get for food and drinks. Not much of a huge drinker himself so he hope there was other items on the menu.

 

[Athol]

Victor was propped in a corner, his feet up on a simple wooden chair and a mug of ale in his hand. He'd made town a few hours ago, after several days in the bush and upon finding out that there was a goblin buying drinks for everyone at the inn, he decided to avail himself of their generosity.

Drunk though he was, reality pushed through in the form of his unfortunately light coin purse. Hmmm, gess I shud look fer sum work tomorrow... He thought to himself. With an angry shake of his head he pushed those worries aside. He could deal with that later, tonight the ale was flowing and someone else was buying!

 

[Anti-American Eagle]

The path through the forest had been long today, but he had reached a settlement again. Kane wandered through the streets until he arrived at the tavern of the city, it took him a few minutes to remember the layout of Three Forests.

Kane looked around the tavern as he entered it, he decided it would be simpler if Marra waited outside until he had secured a room, he didn't need a drunk picking a fight with her. There was what seemed a celebration inside, he assumed it was open considering those present. He walked up to the bar and ordered himself a bottle of frenzy water, deciding he should get a drink before he acquired a room.

 

[drmigit2]

At the bar itself, there was an unusual sight, a halfling was in the middle of a drinking contest between several members of different races, and winning. Merry shouts were coming from about half as the other half attempted to stay up straight and not tip over. Mistling had been there for about three hours drinking perpetually. It seemed to go without end, the bartender had his mouth hung open.

Mistling had an unnatural ability to down alcohol, part of his animal blood he supposed, either way, the beast eyed Halfling in rags was outright stomping five others in a drinking competition. His fangs coated in an unending torrent of ale, it seemed the creature was inhuman. Unphased, the halfling turned to the bartender. "Bahtendeh, oi sai- teh get me sem more of dat dere ale! Yeh said if oi coul outdrin all this heah dwarves, men an' wotevah else coms moi way yeh would gimme all the drinks in deh wold! So oim askin for anothah glass!" Mistling slammed his empty mug down and smiled at a nearby human tipping over and falling on the floor.

 

[Lunar Templar]

Veronica sat in the corner of the tavern, largely ignoring the music and sipping her drink, a local wine, not as good as the wines back home but it was passable. She was waiting for the meal she ordered and trying to decide a plan of action for her 'little outing' as she called it, which was really 'her getting away from her family cause she was tired of them breathing down her neck about marrying some one'. Veronica isn't interested in marrying anyone, nor a family, she's after a legacy, something others will speak of for generations, and she didn't care how she got it.

 

[TheDoctor455]

Deflated somewhat by the female goblin's clear rejection, Saver of Ashes quietly slunk back into a dis-used and poorly maintained booth towards the back of the tavern's bar; where he was sure to be left alone. Little Aahz was torn somewhere between mild depression at striking out yet again with the she-goblins, and borderline violent anger over the human innkeeper clearly pitying him.

Grrr...

Was the only 'thought' running through his brain at that moment. Which frustrated him even more because it meant he was now having trouble remembering how to cast spells, and thus, losing any ability he had to actually get even with anyone in the room. He swore he thought he saw an elf somewhere in the room that owed him money, but he wasn't sure. On the other hand, he thought he also saw a human he thought he owed money to, and so Aahz retreated back into his robes, emerging only every now and then to drink long gulps of his free drink. After about five minutes of this, he finished his drink and just left it sitting there on the table in front of him.

Grrr...

Was still the only 'thought' running through his noggin... however, he was now too drunk to even remember why he was angry, so he threw up his little arms and banged on the table to make an unsatisfying quiet and undamaging 'clap.'

 

[Evrant-Knight]

The night was slowly overcoming the amber coloured hues that were the late afternoon sun, and Auron was rather pleased with himself; after nearly three days of endless tracking, he had finally managed to bag Carion, a Wood Elf bandit that had been causing some trouble in the area for the past couple of months. All he had to do now was bring Carion to Chevande, a High Elf who issued the bounty, to a tavern in Three Forests.

Throughout the long walk back, Auron had disarmed Carion of her weapons, and restrained her arms behind her with a knife pressed gently into her back. He had no intention of harming her willingly, but it served a useful means of persuasion and to keep her moving.

"Aw come on sweetie, untie me and runaway with me, and I would be your willing slave, loving you forever more; surely a strong, handsome Half Elf such as yourself would find good use for someone like me." Carion said with a sultry tone and a puppy dog face. Auron simply smirked.

"Nice try Carion, you attempted seduction once before when I finally caught you, and look how that turned out." He said, referring of course to her current predicament. Carion instantly went into a sulk.

About half an hour later, they finally arrived at the tavern that Chevande described, and as far as he could tell, it was quiet a lively one, with the sound of raucous laughter and merry music being played.

"Well well well, never expected Chevande to pick such a lively drop off point, usually she goes for more secluded locations." Auron said aloud before grabbing a length of rope from in front of Carion to which he could pull her along with. Making sure his hood was pulled up, Auron gave the tavern door a heavy push, which caused an eerie silence to fall.

Auron calmly walked through the tavern, gently pulling on the rope that made Carion move; making note of the looks he was receiving. Three Forests was certainly the melting pot of races and cultures as had been described. He went up to the barkeep.

"Excuse me, but has Chevande arrived? I'm here to collect the bounty." Auron asked, using his head to gesture at Carion.

 

[hiei82]

Lyra sat in a quiet corner of the small Inn; trying not to draw unwanted attention. As much as might have liked to revel with the many people in the tavern, her other side did not lend itself well to uncontrolled activities like drinking. Instead, she drank water with but a thimble of alcohol in it (and that purely for the sake of purifying the water) She'd also gotten a bowl of the innkeepers stew; if only to keep said innkeeper tolerant of her otherwise unpaying presence.

Lyra wouldn't have had much of a reason to be in the small town normally - it was a well founded town; rich in believers in many a faith: including Marais. It was not in some mortal or spiritual peril that could only be stopped by her intervention - few places were. No; her reasons for being in that Inn on that evening were entirely personal. Whispered rumors had brought her to the little town. A rumor of power; power strong enough to quell the darkness. Maybe for good.

But thus far, the rumor was just that. Though many strange things appeared in the town (from goblins swimming in gold to half elf bounty hunters), signs of a power to vanquish evil yet eluded her. So she remained in the quiet corner, watching the crowd carefully, avoiding attention, looking for signs of her rumor.

 

[TheDoctor455]

After a while, Saver of Ashes fell into a bit of a nap. He dreamt of his tribe accepting him again... only to chase him around with a whip made of various elven appendages (some less wholesome than others), and a human true believer branding his tongue with the symbol of her faith. The searing ectasy of the hot branding broke the spell, and Saver of Ashes woke with a start as his legs reflexively popped up and his knees banged heavily (as much as a little goblin's knees can anyway) on the bottom of the table.

"Ow." Was all he could manage to say before he noticed a darkish skinned human... looking very much like the one from his dream.

Oooh... shiny. He thought, admiring the gold trimming on the human's robes, as well as the very pointy staff. To Saver of Ashes, she seemed to a young woman after his own heart. Or at least, that's what he hoped was the case. She'd probably just turn him away like everyone else (at best), or try to kill him in the name of her god (at worst, and most likely, to be honest).

Still, Saver of Ashes thought he'd try anyway. So he walked over to the woman with the glowing eyes and said, "Erm... hi."


That was all Saver of Ashes managed to say. In an attempt to compensate for his umm... shortcomings, he kept his head firmly tucked into his robes, in a desperate effort to seem more imposing than he really felt.

 

[Outcast107]

Ghost watch the whole scene around him. Hobbits having drinking contest with the other patrons of the bar. A goblin trying his luck with the ladies of the bar and seeming to struck out and trying again with someone else. A halfbreed that was looking around the bar, he would have to keep a eye on her. Not due to her race or anything like that.

He just had a feeling about her, thanks to his training he was good at telling about people. The bunch of bar goers didn't seem all that bad but there was a few things off about some. Though as long as they didn't bother him to badly or try to kill him, he won't mind them at all. Getting up as he walks up to the bar.

Wondering if the bar tender might know sign language as he tries it out on her.

Hello, I would like to order a bowl of your best soup please as well as something non-alcoholic to drink. He said with his fingers.

 

[mcpop9]

The barkeep responded. "Yes, i believe so." she responded, then gestured to a back corner of the inn. That's when the music and cheery mood returned. When the guy signed at her, she scratched her head and looked at it, trying to pick apart the gestures. "if you could talk i guess i wouldn't need to play this games with you..." the girl said and eventually got it.
"oh.... soup. sure... and a drink... Something with a kick to it?" she asked, then a few gestures later, had the soup and a glass of apple juice, apples from the halfling community to the north of them. "there ya go. 1gp and the room is included in the cost, however, the goblin over'ere is paying for ye tonight." she said with a bit of her smile.
then a younger teenage elven girl came out of the back with a plate of food for Veronica. She set the plate down infront of her with a smile. "Hope it's up to standards." she commented.

 

[Lunar Templar]

Veronica nodded to the young elf girl as she sat the plate down in front of her and closed her book, the food smelled good, though looked like something had been run over by several wagons, but took a bite anyway, fortunately, it only looked like road kill. "Yes this will do nicely, thank you." she said, and started on her meal.

 

[mcpop9]

"Glad it's ok. We're rather busy tonight." she said then looked over at the rather ragged halfing. She smiled once more. "well, gotta go, enjoy the food!" the elf said and headed over to the bar, grabbing a pitcher of ale before walking around, filling mugs.

The the elf got to the halfling. "Wow... you're putting them down like it's the last bunch of ale in the world." she said, refilling his mug and setting the pitcher down on the table. "After you finish that mug, let's see you chug the entire pitcher." the elf said excitedly, a few more from the room cheering in. "Yeah!" "Chug the pitcher!"

 

[Outcast107]

He smiles lightly as they finally came to a understanding. Glad finally someone outside of his old cult understood him. As he gets his food he notice the hobbit being dare to chug a whole pitcher of ale. Smiling lightly at the goofy scene. He never did see a hobbit drink so much. Though truth be told, he didn't see much of the other races, beside killing them of course.

Though that life was behind him now or so he hope so. Going back to the corner as he pull down his scarf and starts to eat his soup. Eatting slowly as he enjoys the hot meal. He would glace about back at the others as he ate his meal. Enjoying the sights as he wonders perhaps he should try to chat, or in his case listen to the others for once.

 

[Evrant-Knight]

"Yes, I believe so." The barkeep responded with, gesturing to a back corner of the inn. It was at that moment, that the positive atmosphere of the tavern returned. Auron reached for his money, and pulled a handful of coins out and placed them on the counter.

"Thank you. I'll have a drink when I come back, nothing too strong, but something with a little bit of kick. Hope this can cover it." Auron said as he left the counter with Carion in tow before the barkeep could respond. He followed the route that was pointed out to him and arrived at another door which had a couple of guards in disguise posted at the front.

'Chevande did always like to have some form of protection with her whenever she left on business.'

"I take it your the one we've been waiting for? Glad to see someone finally catch this little troublemaker; been causing havoc for traders in the surrounding forest." One of the guards asked as he stood up from his post.

"Indeed I am gentlemen, and I've brought your employer a present as it were." Auron remarked with a cocky little half smile. The guard gave a mean took to Auron as he moved away from the door.

"Alright then, you best get inside, Chevande doesn't like to be kept waiting." The guard then pushed the door open, revealing what looked like a small office.

"No need to tell me that, done business before with her you see." Auron said as he went through the door pulling Carion along. The inside of the office was rather simplistic, and sitting behind a sturdy wooden desk, sat a High Elf who was busy consulting what looked like a deck of tarot cards. She looked up and saw she had company.

"Ah, welcome back Jecht, and I see you brought a friend with you as well. Tell me, was she hard to put down?" Chevande asked with an almost ethereal like voice.

"Go to hell Chevande." Carion said bitterly.

"A few scratches on the arm, a kick to the chest; nothing that I haven't felt before. Must say that it was a good fight though. If you weren't my bounty Carion, I would have asked if you wanted a rematch." Auron remarked in a charming manner, which looked as though it had made the Wood Elf blush.

"Ahem." Chevande said as a pouch of gold coins landed on the table. "Your payment Jecht."

As Auron dropped the rope, and leaned over to grab the pouch, he spoke quietly to Chevande.

"Go easy on her, she has quite the potential if you can find use for her." Auron then left the office, and found a quiet corner of the tavern to sit at whilst waiting for his drink.

 

[drmigit2]

Mistling turned around and was surprised that at least half the bar was watching him now. He was being careless. People usually only looked at him funny because of his oddly shaped face, but the drunk patrons here were more than happy to accept him. How fun. Mistling winked a cat eye at the barmaid and after casually sipping his mug, grabbed the pitcher and started chugging. Gulp after long gulp the golden amber liquid drained out of the pitcher until there was absolutely nothing left.

After calmly putting the pitcher down, Mistling sat for a moment, seemingly non-nonchalant. He was starting to feel a little fuzzy, might as well give everyone a good scare now. A human walked over and asked "Are you okay?" Mistling looked down for a while, eyes looking sore and made a move as if he was about to pass out. Just as he started slipping out of his chair, a few patrons began to look concerned, but then he jumped up and roared "An' tha's paht of the raison oi was able to k'll all dem gobbies back in dah forest! Notin can get to ol' Mistlin!"

 

[hiei82]

"Erm... Hi." a voice said, drawing Lyra from her careful scanning of the room. Turning to face the voice, she found herself chest-to-face with a small man in blue-gold robe, his cowl over his head. Needless to say, the sudden appearance of the person was unexpected. She wasn't able to make out his face properly, but Lyra had the sneaking suspicion he was either a Mage or fancied himself one - given his manner of dress.

Not sure what else to say, she replied in kind. "Hello... Can I help you?" She said, pausing to emphasize her confusion over the little man's appearance. Still, she tried to be nice - Marais gave her blessing equally to all people. What more, he might be the one the rumors of power spoke of. It couldn't hurt to play nice for the moment.