character info and bio

[mageprophet]

self explanatory..........bring your character to life.......

[czaralex]

Name: Glinn Ungart
Race: Dwarf
Age: 58
Height: 4'4"
Weight: 158lbs

Glinn was born in to a large family with several brothers and sisters in the large Dwarven settlement of Een Odahket at the base of a large mountain rich in metal deposits. The males of the family took great pride in the craftsmanship of the work they produced, since their war axes are among the finest in the land.

From an early age, Glinn was apprentice to his father at the forge and learned how to strike a hammer against an anvil. Yet, the skills his father thought Glinn was destined to learn just failed to feel like `destiny` to Glinn. To him, there seemed to be a greater purpose to life, one more than just metal crafting. However, wanting to stay true to the ways of his family and people, Glinn continued his apprenticeship. It seemed to go slowly, his skills no better than the average crafter. He acquired quite an eye for identifying other people's work through common markings on the item or specific materials used.

Word of Glinn's ability was seen by travelers who would frequent his father's Shoppe. Soon they began coming to Glinn with items acquired from other merchants asking him to confirm their authenticity. Two such travelers arrived and asked for Glinn's services. They bore special markings on their arms and upon further investigation by the curious Dwarf, he learned it was the hand of Herioneous. These were Paladins, a group that rarely made their way to Een Odahket. Their presence gave Glinn a feeling of security, even though his life was peaceful already. He identified their items for them but refused their silver pieces, instead asking to learn more of their lifestyle. Days after their initial arrival and after several meetings with the travelers, Glinn had finally understood his calling in life - to further the causes of good and law. The Paladins agreed to train Glinn in their ways and the pair made camp outside of town in the forest. Glinn would spend the obligated time in his father's Shoppe but would the head to the encampment where he would immerse himself in the knowledge and teachings of Herioneous.

After six months, Glinn approached his father and declared his intentions to leave the town and further his studies to train as a Paladin. His father was not pleased and forbade him to follow what he considered `a meaningless path`. Nevertheless, feeling this way of life calling him, Glinn prepared to leave town. The morning of his departure, Glinn awakened to find a bundling of leather next to his belongings. Unwrapping it, he found the finest crafted war axe he has ever seen. It appeared old and bore an early form of his family's marking, unlike the current one. Knowing that there was nothing more to say to his father, Glinn gathered his supplies and left with the Paladins.

Numerous Years had passed and Glinn was now a respected Paladin with good and law emphasizing his every action. Yet, thoughts of his family and the town he grew up in level left his thoughts. After his apprenticeship with the Paladins was over, Glinn returned to Een Odahket only to find the smallest of encampments where a once thriving town had flourished. As he approached the encampment, a handful of heavily armed Dwarves emerged only to find relief that the intruder was one of their own. In shock, Glinn inquired about the fate of his town. The armored Dwarves lowered their heads and began to tell the story.

On one cold winter morning several years ago, a messenger from a neighboring Dwarven settlement arrived and met with local political leaders. A meeting was called and it was revealed that unidentified men on horseback have began threatening a nearby town, stating that unless the highest quality items were crafted for them at no charge, their town would be leveled and no one would be spared. The residents of Eem Odahket began producing the highest quality amour and weapon, but for themselves and their neighboring town, so they would be prepared to meet head-on any attack from these mysterious harassers. Months later, in the dead of night, the attackers came in numbers greater than anticipated. The town was leveled with only a fraction of its inhabitants escaping. The identity of the attacks was still unknown to this day. When Glinn asked of his family, the Dwarves were unable to confirm their fate. As Glinn spoke with the small group of survivors he noticed one of their weapons bore a marking similar to his family's. Upon further investigation, the owner said he acquired it from a traveling merchant who came from the West. A new hope was instilled in Glinn that his family was still alive only in another town. He made it his personal quest to find his family and the attackers that leveled his hometown.

In his travels to find his family and the attackers, Glinn finds himself at a roadside inn called “The Grey Croc” where he plans to have a warm meal and spend the night before moving on.

[jerhen]

Character's name : Emy Sihld
Sexe : F
Race : Human
Class: Rogue
Age : 23
Height : 5'5
Weight : 120

It is late now. The room is enlightened by the gleam of a candle to be over soon. A bed, a small table, the window is closed with two damaged wood shutters.

A young girl, 5 , 6 years old maybe, is huddled up on the bed. Her yes are shut, but she does not sleep. Her long black hairs hide her untroubled face, and the small pendent her neck carries. Around her, shadows are dancing as please the shy blazing enlighting the room. Yet, she is not scared, she is actually pretty calm, she might be sleeping, but she does not.

The door opens, slowly. A scratching, a smooth draft of air, the peaceful light is being upset and threatens to vanish. Shadows seem up to take over the room but the gleam will not vanish. The door shuts.

Another young girl, older, probably, 7, 8 years old. She looks like the youngest one. She's scared. One step, two step, she's coming over, paying great attention not to step in the shadow, but how would she not step in hers.

She's almost there, she raise one arme, her other hand hold a small pendent, her lips move slowly. Did she utter something? A name? Nobody could hear it, nobody answered it. The tip of her fingers now touch the hair of the youngest one. No response... Yet, she does not sleep.

A shout, she closed her eyes. She's crying. She stays rooted, tears running down her cheeks, before this small bed in which nobody's sleeping. She will not dare opening her eyes, she hates them for what they saw. She knows now, the last thing that passed over the throat of her young sister was no word, no breath, but a gleaming piece of metal teinted with blood.

One does not sleep, yet, she will never awake. The other wish she may never have to sleep again, yet, she can't open her eyes. The candle is now over, shadows take over the room, no light is needed for closed eyes.


* * *

Her eyes open, it hurts, too much light, she shuts them back. Her head hurts also, and her back. She's opening them once again, slowly, she's not alone, she shuts them back.

Her large black eyes are now those of a young teen, she just got 13. She brings her hand to her neck, both her pendents are still there, she smiles, someone's talking to her.

She remembers now, she fell. She gets moralized by her father, she might have been hurt badly, she might have killed herself, she knows it, but she smiles, because he did not understand why she had tried to climb there.

Her father says she witted, he wants her to get educated in a nice academy, but she is not listening anymore, when he will stop talking, she will go to town and wait for the night. When it will become dark again, she'll try to climb once more. Next time, she's going to make it.

She looks at the wall, it's high, and the small window is locked. She smiles, again, while the window opens. She knows, it is up there, and she'll take it. The last breath of her sister, her last word, just like it would be her last will. The night falls. She holds the two small pendent, closes her eyes. It is time now.


* * *

The large gate is opening. The other disciples are very glad, they succeeded. She's there too, she smiles, she succeed too, but that is not what makes her glad. She walks, slowly.

She's looking around, disciples, professors. She laughs gently. They all like her, yet none of them really knows her. She's been courteous, she said what they liked to hear. She is a nice young woman, smart and dexterous. Is that really who she is?

Her father comes. She's not even looking for her mother. He congratulates her, but he doesn't look glad. They walk, slowly, talking a few words.

Her father would like her to be there for the burial, she promises she will be. She will not, the ship is leaving well before, but he does not need to know.

* * *

A coffin, it is wide open, candles are laid all around. A man is looking inside, he can see a woman, his woman. Her eyes are closed, her face is untroubled, yet, she does not sleep.

A ship sails far over. She's on the deck and looks far away. She cannot see the sea, she can see pictures. A young girl laying on a bed, a small dagger over her throat. The dagger is her mother's, she kill her young daughter. She was just mad, one excessive word, she made her keep silence for ever.

Next to the coffin, a small dagger, he has seen it, already, it killed his daughter. It killed his wife now, tears run down slowly. He's looking at it, it's in his hand now. A few drops of blood fall over him. He puts it down again and looks at his blood, spilling out. He's not sad anymore, this dagger killed him too. He will join up with his wife, the one who kill his daughter. He will join up with his daughter, sinless and sweet, avenged by her sister. She, at least, would survive.

The ship will soon arrive. Pictures are vanishing before her eyes. Everything is far from her now, it is now time for the nice, sweet, smart and dexterous young women to live her life. A few tears, again, but she smiles. She holds her pendents firmly into her hand, and walks forward, paying attention not to step out of the shadow.

[mageprophet]

who is playing what?
as of now...
czaralex is a paladin
my freind is a monk

[jerhen]

I'll be a rogue

[mageprophet]

as it stands,the members of the party are as follows:a paladin,a barbarian,a monk and a rogue.no true casters,this maybe interesting.....

[allanyakt]

If a digital player is accepted, I'd like to play a second rogue. Rogues in tandem can -always- catch at least one flank, and it looks like this party has enough meat shields to make a number of backs turn in profitable directions. I wouldn't mind getting a chance to chat with Jehren a bit, just to compare ideas. There's so many paths a Rogue can walk that I doubt we'd be taking duplicate roles.

[jerhen]

We can talk about that. I actually have no idea of the exact pass my rogue will take. I tend more to let my characters evolve depending on what happens to them, and I don't really make plans on that.

At the begining, it will be a quite general rogue, but will probably be more skilled in things like bluff or disguise than on working with traps or stealing.


I added you on MSN. Maybe we'll be able to talk about that more easily.

[allanyakt]

--- Not that I am yet actually in this game... ---

Name: Fern Teco (Fern TEEko)
Race: Human
Age: 19
Height: 5'2"
Weight: 110#


"Boy! Come hither!" The farm wife's shrill cry arose from the direction of the barns.

A scrawny youth, whose blond hair was lightened by the sun and further lightened in contrast to a deep tan, turned her brown eyes towards the source of the sound and sighed. She squatted, setting two large pails on the ground, and shrugged out of the neck yoke that enabled her to carry them, dropping the yoke on the ground next to the buckets. She dawdled for a moment, rubbing her sore shoulders, and then took off running for the barn.

The call was for a simple task, as usual. This time the farm wife bade her to unload old seeding taters from a bin and haul crates full of them out to the yard. Other piercing cries often resulted in firewood to split, or yet more buckets of water to draw from the well, or raking and hoeing under a turn of the vegetable garden in the same way that the men in the crew plowed under the fields. It seemed to her that every planting crew must have a boy just for such small biddings, lest the farm wife interrupt the men or claim their attention.

The youth set the last crate on top of the stack of them and kicked a fallen tater back closer to the pile. She ran back to the yoke and buckets and dipped a hand into one of the pails. To her relief, the water was still cool, though no longer crisp and cold. The delay hadn't been too long and she needn't draw fresh pails from the well. She squatted, shrugging the yoke back into place, and stood up with the buckets, to carry around to the men in her work crew.

She almost decided to fetch fresh water for the men anyways, since they were a good crew and kind to her, but laziness won over, such as one can be lazy while working with a planting crew. The men of the crew were easy going, quick to tell a tall tale, not so quick to take offense at a slight of words. They had quickly accepted her when she, a runaway street urchin from a small town dressed as a boy, joined up with them, and did not ask too many questions. They were worthy of the extra effort, save for her own disinclination to work harder than necessary.

And they were true to their own code of honor, however such code may differ from landed folk. They never harmed their own, and though they may have figured up that she's really a girl, they never laid a hand on her. So long as none of the farmsteaders caught wind of it, no one would cry foul. But moreso, they taught her their trade and the tasks required of her. She was familiar enough with the basics of their routine from her own years on the town streets, but the crew taught her the finer points of the trade, and the many little things that would help keep her out of trouble.

For instance, the men always took care to save a bit of their dinner to share with the farm dogs. During the farm work, the men were always of clean face and well-kempt beards, and they river-swam each evening to rinse the dirt and sweat from their clothing. They held to decent speech and courtesies and apologized quickly at a slip of tongue, especially around the farmers’ wife and children. They took great care to stay respectful and respectable. They took no action untoward against any farm while they roved and planted, and thus they put all the farmers at ease.

For they taught her the thieves’ first rule- never steal where your bread is, and they taught her that farmers paid close attention to their valuables while strange farmhands were at work. But some weeks later during mid-summer between last planting and first harvest, that was when things on many farms settled into a dull routine. That was the time to go back to look things over again, and dogs who knew them as friends would stay quiet over another little bit of meat.

-----

Harvest time proved busy, for the crew again worked several farms, only two or three days apiece as with planting. At several, upon their arrival, the farmers cautioned them to keep their wits about them as unlawful men may be afoot. Their reputation as a clean, hardworking crew held them in good stead. The farmers blamed a dirtier, loudmouthed crew for the thefts, assuming that men clean of face and speech were as equally clean of honor.

But the crew did not work the same selection of farms as in planting. The transient nature of their employ took them to new farms each spring and fall. And as the farmers asked, they did keep their wits handy. Their eyes were on the prize, for each farm would sell their surplus and have spare coin laying around, likely in the flour bins. Again, once the turmoil of harvest settled into the dull routine of winter, the crew took up their usual practice.

-----

The youth wintered with them in a larger town, a slight ways south of where she'd grown up, where they introduced her to the Guild and taught her the thief's trade proper. Stealing food from a market stall was an accomplishment for an unschooled child, but cracking a wealthy craftsman's house requires much more skill and knowledge. And so that first winter, she learned of locks and traps and the use of larger blades. It was a busy winter, and always fun and challenging.

By the end of the second winter, though, she had to part company with the crew, as she no longer looked the part of the boy and could not uphold their cover story among the farms. For a while she hired out as a sell-sword to a Baron's militia. Though the lodging and food were steadier than a thief sometimes can afford, she eventually deserted with the sword she carried and the armor she wore, not even stopping by the coinkeep to collect her pay. Coin was easy enough to come by. And she'll be back for it anyways.

[mageprophet]

we have a 5th player.he will be playing a wizard.

[stealthfrequency]

Name: Pitworm
Sex: Male
Race: Elf
Age: 131
Height: 5’ 1”
Weight: 89lbs
Deity: Ehlonna
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral


His youngest childhood memories are dark and torturing of scarcely lit cold damp mines where the slave master’s whips were plentiful, the food was foul of what little there was, and the never ending hours of back breaking work. This was his life until fate offered him a new path to follow. While mining, there came a quake which dropped the roof and walls all about. When the rumbling ended he found himself surrounded by all manors of stone. He had helped to pull others from such piles before, so he was sure he was dead. After a few moments, he realized that there was a strange light shining about him. He had never seen this yellow glow before. Looking up he saw where it was coming from. He thought this was the Gods coming to get him because he died. As his eyes adjusted he was able to make out the crevice that lead up in to the light. It took some work, but he finally found himself on the side of a forested mountain, though he had no idea as to what it was.

For many months he wondered the woods and learned many lesson. Some were learned by common sense while others were learned by the school of hard knocks. Then one day he happened upon a hermit who lived in those woods. This hermit could tell immediately that the boy was alone. The hermit decided that he would care for the boy till he was ready to go out on his own. It took a lot of patience by the hermit until the boy decided that this old time would not harm him. When the hermit asked the boy his name, the only thing that he could remember ever being called was Pitworm, so this is what he told the hermit his name was.

To Pitworm’s favor, it turns out that the old timer was very well educated in many things. Over the next few decades this knowledge was passed on to Pitworm. Some times the old timer would leave to go seek information about the unique tattoo Pitworm bore upon his left foot. Though he never did find any thing about it. The two became like father and son. No father could be prouder of a son then the old timer became of Pitworm.

Then the day came when a new sadness fell upon Pitworm. The old timer passed on to the realm of his deity. This was the first pain Pitworm ever felt that was not physically inflicted.

And that brings us to the present…………..