Spoiler: Players
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Gormless (me): Human Druid
Gormless is the nickname given to a child who walked into town several years ago. He was alone, and no one knows where he came from or who his family might have been. He was taken in by an orphanage, but quickly withdrew into himself after severe abuse from other, older children. Gormless never fit in with any of the others, instead deciding to wander the area of Darkhold by himself. This has led him to be injured many times in his life, and he has not healed from many of them (limp, missing fingers, etc). It was his encounter with a starving wild dog that cost him his two fingers, as he foolishly attempted to feed it. Ironically, this is what awoke his interest in becoming a druid. Under the tutelage of Vernonia, he has become a slightly more open and friendly person, but still lags behind most normal people in his social skills. He also is still working on trusting Dreymond, as the latter used to practice Charm Person spells on him as a prank. Most of his waking hours are spent isolated in the most difficult to reach places near Darkhold.
Barton Sultana: Human Fighter
Born to a semi-poor farming family in a neighboring township, Barton was shipped off to live with his grandfather and his Aunt when he was 13. While working in the tavern/inn, he also took up the local guard up on their training program.
Mardok: Halfling Rogue
Son of a merchant's daughter and a man of ill-gotten gains, Mardok fell in with a group of street thugs after his mother's death. He learned it was better to take from the rich and soon found himself helping another group on their journey. The journey, fraught with dangers, brought him more perils and pain and loss of companions each day. Yet he had to go onward. He had a job to do (even if it was dodging the tails of creatures many times his size). He swallows his fears to help his friends
Taewulf: Elf Ranger
Awaiting bio
Umgarn
Umgarn's mother was pregnant with him when the cataclysm occurred. She wasn't yet aware of it and was visiting the city at the time. Nearly all of the rest of her clan perished. The only thing that gave her the will to overcome her despondency was the realization that she was with child.
Umgarn grew up in a world where every day was a struggle, yet his mother still found a way to bring moments of joy to him. He occasionally can be a prankster or flippant, when his duty can be set aside. When duty calls, he is all business.
Umgarn's mother, Dovona, was an early member of the Cult of War and Umgarn took up the beliefs as well. Umgarn has seen humans grow old and die and knows their lives are more transient than those of his race. It has given him an odd perspective and he will prioritize saving the young over the old. He takes a longer look at strategy, however and knows that the young must have someone to raise them.
Umgarn is a faithful member of the Cult of War and lives a frugal life. He rarely drinks alcohol, even when his comrades in arms are relieving stress, as he sees it as a waste of resources. He Carrie's everything he owns with him, except for a few small trinkets his mother keeps.
Spoiler: Spoilers
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Dreymond Dawson: Human Druid
Tahm Corbray: Human Bard
Rhorja S'Ein: Half-Elf Wizard
Rhorja is 14 years old, very smart, curious, sensitive, nerdy and bookish. Also teased, marginalized, profoundly lonely, and deeply bitter in a way he cannot even acknowledge. He has has a tough life so far, having been born the son of a young seamstress girl and a marauding Blackcloak soldier who cornered her one night as she was closing the store. Everyone knows this, and they whisper about his obvious half-breeding behind his back, when he is lucky. Though his mother loves him he is the living reminder of her dumb luck and an advertisement for her shame. Rhorja would like to ask her if, knowing the boy he has become, she would change what happened that night. He never will though, because its simply not fair. What could she do but lie?
The seamstress with the bastard half-breed son married whom she could; the foul-tempered village gravedigger. Rhorja’s step-father would drink and hit a wall, or the table, or his mother, or him, but mostly him. He explained to the boy that his very existence has ruined his mother’s life, and was now ruining his. This simple truth in contrast to his mother’s comforting lie was a revelation, and a nightly beating seem like a necessary social good. Then one night his step father drank but only wanted to talk; about death and the quiet simplicity of it, about the honor of completion, all things that only the gravedigger and the dead know. He claimed that death was a sort of gift, and later that night he smashed Rhorja’s kneecap with a shovel while the boy slept, presumably aiming for his skull, and presumably thinking it was a present for them all.
The next weeks were spent in the healer’s tent, who tried to mend his leg so that he could walk normally again but failed; it turns out the grave digger knows how to swing a shovel. The kids that didn’t tease him for being a half-breed now teased him for being a cripple. His mother retreated into her dismal life with her new husband, because what else could she do? The only person to reach into his pain and depression was Anoji, the old spell caster hermit, who sought him out in the dark one evening and claimed by the side of his bed that the boy was done with one life, and ready for another. There was nothing left of his old life for him here, he claimed, so the boy was to find him in the woods as soon as he could walk again. “There is a light in you that won’t extinguish, even if it should. That’s all I need” he said and shuffled off into the darkness.
So he went to live and finish healing with the hermit. It was true what the old man said; if anyone noticed he was gone at all, it was with feint relief, like a wound had healed. He didn’t belong there anymore, he belonged to this new world of mysticism and illusion and things we do not see but, if properly trained, we can control little pieces of. Anoji taught him confidence in his intellect, that there is power in books and learning, and that one’s past matters very little to their future. He taught the boy to walk again with a staff, "like a grand old wizard should." He taught him that pain has value and strength to be harnessed. He taught him basic magics. He taught the boy the charm person spell, and shortly thereafter his step-father was seen climbing the steep slate roof of his home in the driving rain, something no sane person would do. His neighbors yelled for him to come down but he seemed not to hear them as he negotiated one slippery step after another. When he fell he landed on his back, impaled on a fence post in the chicken coup below, with enraged hens pecking at this side as the blood filled his lungs and the life left his eyes. Everyone agreed it was a senseless tragedy, except the boy, who thought that perhaps, in a weird way, this was a present to them all…
That night, Anoji woke him from a sound, deep sleep, and told him:
“You may stay here and walk a dark path, wherein you use this new power to fill the holes in your heart, knowing full well they will always ache. This path is short and easy and ends in ruin. This was my path"
"Or, you may use this new power to leave. Leave the past and this hovel and your hurt and your crippling behind and go. Make something mighty of yourself. Make a man your mother would be proud of. This path is difficult and will take the rest of your life and I don’t know where it ends because I could never walk it. Can you?"
That was 5 months ago. The boy has been learning, getting steadier on his bad leg, and trying out his new spells on everything and everyone he can. He is smiling again. He is confident. He has a pack open on his bedroll, as though he is starting to pack for a long trip.
Bellamin Fletcher: Human Bard
Daring, charming, always a nuisance. Bellamin Fletcher, resident Bard at your service. I'll play a tune while Alistine empties your pockets. If we get caught, I'll talk my way out. Bellamin has always struggled to do what's right and provide for himself and Alistine, a relationship that sort of grew out of a long childhood friendship. His father was a solider, died fighting the Black Cloaks some years past. His mother disappeared one day, ran off on one of her drunken bouts no doubt. He's never been alone though, Alistine has always been there. Will always be there, and him for her. Young kids with nowhere to go, nobody to feed them, quickly leads them down the path of crime. Two of 'em working together makes it easy, especially when they're as charismatic as Bellamin. A quick song or two makes a simple, yet effective, distraction.
Alistine Gellantara: Human Thief (Deceased)
Wherever Bellamin is, I'm not far behind. Charming in her own way, but mostly leaves that up to Bellamin who has a knack for getting them out of trouble. She lived with her grandmother, Nerisora, until the age of 12, who died from a combination of a broken heart and illness. Alistine's mother died in childbirth and her father was never in the picture. Although she has no family, she's never alone with Bellamin always at her side. Bellamin’s father was like the son Alistine’s grandmother never had, she cared for Bellamin when his father was at war and his mother was off on a drunken rampage (again). After the death of her daughter and Bellamin’s father, Nerisora was never quite the same. She died shortly after receiving the news of his death.
Adorellan Taltaur: Elf Fighter/Mage
My life has been a simple one thus far. The only not so simple thing about is life in the mountains. The mountains are a remote region of the land, a home away from home. It can be a dangerous place but it is the only place that I can call home.
My early life was difficult. Being raised in such a harsh place wasn't easy. From such an early age, I had to be pulling my own weight and doing what I could to help our own little village thrive and survive. At first, it wasn't much. A chore here, a chore there, something that would allow me to contribute a little.
However, as I grew older, the tasks became greater and more meaningful, especially as I began to discover who I was. As a child, I loved fashioning 'swords' from what little stick there were around the place and have play fights with some of the other children. At such an early age, I seemed to show quite a bit of proficiency with these 'swords' but many suspected that was just because I was an Elf and that it is apparently an innate thing.
Not so much in this case.
Years later, I began training with actual weapons. Longswords and Daggers were the starting point and it was definitely clear that I knew how to handle them effectively. So much for it being because I was an Elf. Although, as time went by, I figured that could be just as true.
Several more years later found beginning to have a keen interest in Arcane magics. I don't know what compelled me to look into such intricate writings, but something did. For hours a day, I would spend my time pouring over tomes, the so few that were available, learning all that I could, practicing the simplest of cantrips and the simplest of spells.
It was at this point that something was revealed to me. It was at this point when I was ready to take control of my life that I learnt something interesting.
My village was apparently trading partners with a nearby Kobold village. This struck me as very odd and peculiar at first, but when I went to the village myself to do so trading on behalf of my village, it was not so bad. They were very welcoming, understanding and willing to help me prepare for the return journey to my village.
However, I was not wanting to go back yet. I had also been told of the growing threat of Orcs and wanted to investigate it myself. I set out north, explaining that I was simply going on a hunting trip. This 'trip' ended up bringing me far to the north, leaving me several hours from the Kobold village.
That was when I saw a column of smoke rising from near the village...worry and panic wormed its way into my being. Had the Kobold village been attacked and destroyed?
I feared for the worst and immediately began making my way back as quickly and cautiously as I could, completely unaware of the surprise that was going to be awaiting me there...
Urhzal: Human Cleric (Deceased)
Sold by my parents after a particularly bad mining accident took my father's arm and he couldn't work anymore. I was old enough to remember being sold to the Seekers, and don't really hold a lot of ill will towards my family for what they did. After all, my life would never have been this full of learning, and uncovering the hidden secrets of the world if thy hadn't.
I soaked up the training and desire to learn as though I were parched earth and it lifegiving moisture. I gained a deep craving to learn, explore, and protect those who were Seeking.
I was sent to find one such brother, the other half of my team, Pretaria who was taken months ago.