Old Character Sheets

[VennDygrem]

Post links or templated character sheets here, as well as any character background info you find is relevant.

[Raineh Daze]

Phyrfryn'ual Hlatlar. I have no idea what sort of appearance would be appropriate.

(click to show/hide)

Phyrfryn'ual was, in every respect, your default young dark elf: learning how drow society works through trying to avoid fratricidal assassinations and watching the major players orchestrate eradication of entire other houses--and paying the ultimate price if there was a single survivor willing to come forward. However, she was unfortunately born into a position of nobility, which made the backstabbing attempts far too common and determined that she was going to become a priestess, willing or not.

Being about as graceful at politics as a drunken dwarf, Phyr was entirely unable to talk her way out of it, much like she was incredibly bad at trying to set up the death of her siblings. Indeed, if it weren't for her uncanny ability to notice and dodge attempted murder, she'd never have had to worry about spending her life trying to improve her status and standing in the eyes of the goddess; graves are quite peaceful places.

She took a different option: running away from home entirely, with no idea where she was going to go. Joining a mercenary group was an option, as was just disappearing into and trying to survive the perils of the underdark. Instead, she stumbled upon the sort of thing best kept secret, but inevitably present with a society as murderous as the drow: a sect of assassins. Rather than one reliant on daggers, she found a group split--as the drow always were--between the two lines of harnessing the shadows, and simply controlling the elements through sheer force of will. Either way required iron discipline of body and mind, and both agreed on the physical fundamentals.

It was really the perfect environment for one with her natural inclinations, and as a noble who'd kept their signet ring, she would be quite useful in some more high-profile situations... when her training was complete. That, however, was delayed: when payment came in for the very group she was with to kill her, Phyr realised it was high time to kill the messenger, leave the money, and head far away, citing 'getting experience'--not an altogether unique occurrence. Through practice, and needing to avoid being eaten, she actually began to learn some of the abilities she'd seen senior members display... and used this new affinity with the elements to follow the faintest breeze up to the surface.

Nobody was going to look for her here, were they?

TL;DR version: Drow noble, sucked at politicing, left 'proper' society for an order of warrior/assassin monks*, currently on the surface to avoid retribution.

[Rin]

Ginger Sharena, Tiefling Sorceress.

(click to show/hide)

Born in a small village in a rural area of Faerun, Ginger never really knew her parents.  Her mother died during childhood, and her father... No-one amongst the villagers knew who his identity, and the only keepsake she had of him was, strangely enough, a towel.  The moment her mother died and the villagers got a good look at the child she had borne, they were gripped by terror at the sight of the demonic young girl.  Were it not for her grandmother almost literally beating them all into line, they would have likely killed her right there and then.  Even then, they were all wary of the horned girl, and became even more so when her sorcerous powers began to emerge.  It wasn't difficult to notice, really; the flashing lights around her head, the random explosions, the unconsciously generate poltergeistic activity where objects mysteriously flew about the room and smashed against the walls... The moment it was clear that she was a danger to others, Ginger was forced to take up residence alone in a shack on the outskirts of the village.

She wasn't exactly "alone", though, as her grandmother visited often to make sure she was doing okay, and other villagers occassionally showed up at her door; sometimes baring offerings of food, random junk and any books they came across in order to placate her wrath (which despite their superstition was actually practically non-existant but she wasn't going to say no to free food and entertainment), but more often than not wanting magical assistance for some trivial task like finding a lost shoe or a runaway pet.  As the ratio of successful assistance to random magical explosions began to balance out, she started to gain more respect from the villagers, or at the very least changed their overall opinion of her from "terrifying devil child who will kill us all" to "weird horned girl who is grudgingly useful to have around".  Soon enough, she grew into adulthood, but she wasn't the only one aging.  Her grandmother, who had raised her and passed her knowledge onto her, had entered the twilight of her life, and during her last years Ginger took care of her in her shack.  As she slowly grew weaker and more demented, her grandmother could do nothing but babble about how Ginger needed to see the world for herself, to find her true heritage, and to "find that stupid Elminster, give him a boot to the arse and nick his stupid hat for being such a jackass".  Whilst most of it was little more than mad ramblings caused by dementia, Ginger took it to heart, and when she finally passed away the tiefling left the village, much to the relief of all the other villagers.  Now she heads out, on a quest for adventure, personal discovery, and to kick a old man in the backside and steal his headwear for herself.

And since I'm really lame I drew her so yeah. ^^;

[bhu]

http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=22764

John Johnston, Half-Orc serial killer

[Michael Lightning]

Kalavar, Wood Elf Cleric of Torm

(click to show/hide)

He was part of a normal family until his father died in the war and his mother died from illness while he was still a child. He was taken in by a priest of a local church. The church has multiple orders within it, each worshiping a particular god and giving unique training. They start training apprentice clergymen in only the basic of faith, allowing the apprentices to choose their specialty. The day before Kalavar was to make this choice, he came back to the priest's home to see him murdered, with a sorcerer standing above him, holding a wand. Kalavar leapt at the sorcerer as he rose the wand to strike him. In the struggle, the wand broke, and the sorcerer beat him back, then vanished. The following day, he made his choice of domain: War.

He kept the broken piece of wand as a trinket, as a reminder of why he chose his path: so that he could track the sorcerer down and kill him for murdering the man who saved his life. Constant loss and his training has hardened his heart, preventing him from having his opinions swayed in the slightest. He also is very devout. He believes that the Gods' voices are everywhere; one just needs to know where to look, and listen.

[linklord231]

Erenor Nailo is a scholar, focused primarily on religion and history.  In his studies, he stumbled unwittingly and unwillingly into a Pact with a being beyond space and time.  He now jealously guards the secrets revealed to him, so that they cannot fall into "the wrong hands" (whoever that might be).

(click to show/hide)

I wish that I was not burdened with the knowledge that I have.  It haunts me daily - tormenting me in my dreams, and seeping into my waking thoughts.  What voice is this, that whispers to me in the darkness?  It speaks no language I have heard of, and I have studied many.  Yet somehow, I understand it.  It teaches me many things, things that no mortal mind has any right to know.  Secrets of the planes, of magic, and of the Powers beyond both.  Things I cannot know, do not want to know!

It started almost a decade ago, when my colleague sent me a mysterious stone statue, asking me to look into its origin.  It was a small thing, no bigger than a child's closed fist, made of some unidentifiable stone and shaped roughly like a toad.  Something about its shape was unsettling, almost sinister, although to this day I cannot describe what made it appear so.  My research into this fetish led me to an old Calishite tome by the poet Abd Al-Azrad, bound in dyed purple leather and embossed in gold, the title of which has no corresponding word in Common, but roughly translates to "The Noise of the Roaring Wind Rushing from the Depths of Pandemonium."  This is the book that has changed my life forever.  I began reading it in the hopes of gleaning some insight into the statue, but that goal was forgotten almost the instant I opened the tome. 

From the moment I started reading, I was compelled to do nothing else until I had finished the last word.  I could not eat nor sleep, only drink in the knowledge conveyed in this strange grimoire.  For days I poured over this dusty tome, until I could recite it word for word.  And yet even now, all these years later, I continue to discover new insights each time I open it.  I am terrified.  The knowledge I have gained from this book and from the voices that I hear since I read it is not fit for men to know.  I must not allow this book and the secrets it contains to fall into the wrong hands, but neither can I destroy it - and how have I tried!  I have burned it, buried it, inked over every page... and yet each time, I find it again in perfect condition.  I cannot rid myself of it, even if I wanted to.  I fear that this book is bound to me, and I to it.  I know not for what purpose, and I fear that even if I did, I would not wish to know. 

[caelic]

http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=22981

Volsk, Rashemi expatriate druid

[Gazzien]

Bigogan Kaelang, a fire-focused Gnome Evoker Wizard who is wandering the world, searching for the secrets of the world in an effort to solve the mystery gifted to him by a dead comrade-in-arms... fine, dead companion from when he was a mere apprentice, learning his first cantrip. Or to simple release secrets and knowledge for the world to share. Either or, really.