High Fantasy Character Thread

Approved Characters:

Name:
Age:

Spoiler:

Race:
Class:
Description/Image:

Biography:

Any characters must be approved by either myself or Skippy before posting in the RP thread.
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Approved by Skippy


Name: Sindara Valylle
Age: 24
Race: Elf
Class: Paladin Initiate (Healing magic, Sword, Shield)
Description/Image:

Spoiler:

Biography: Born as the third child of a wealthy landowner in one of the larger towns in the south of Arleta, Sindara was neither the heir or the spare. Thanks to this, she was given the chance to pursue anything that she wanted in the world, though she would never take her father's place in the world. Even from a young age, she knew this fact and quickly became distant from her siblings, spending more time alone with books than with others. When a Paladin passed through her hometown, Sindara was enamoured by them. She would spend hours asking the knight questions, which he was happy to answer. Every time he did, Sindara was more and more convinced that she wanted to be a Paladin.

When the time came for the Paladin to return to their citadel in the west, Sindara asked to go with him. Surprised, but not disappointed, her father allowed her to be taken to the citadel as a novice. Even though the training drills were hard, and the studies even harder, she never wavered in her desire to succeed. After three years of rigorous combat training, as well as exhausting magical trials, Sindara was promoted from novice, to Initiate, which came with pay along with her training. Her trainer from then on was the Paladin responsible for recruiting her, Knight-Commander Caelin. Given free reign of Arleta and Palis, along with exemption from the law when dealing with necromancers and demons. Her master was harsh, but fair, and took great care not to place her in too much danger, though cowardice would mean her failure as a Paladin.

Throughout her training, Sindara has seen necromancy, demons, and monsters, and their victims, which has only strengthened her resolve to purge the world of their evils.

Approved by Kristy

Name: Urthak the Stalker
Age: 45 at time of death. 89 since rebirth
Race:Undead, previously orc
Class: Magical Ranger
Description/Image: Mostly flesh, though the lower jaw is missing covered by a mask of skeletal hands. His chest is marked with holes, the indication of how he died by spears. Carries a quiver with no arrows, upon his back, and a rack of small throwing knives on his right forearm. Most of his clothing and equipment is tattered and worn down, with the one exception being his bow and quiver. Both of those are runes in tactical places, which glow and emit light along with whatever magic bolt he is using. His general outfit is leather held by straps across his forearms, also holding his knife rack in place. He wears a cloak with no hood over simple clothing, the kind a butcher might wear under their apron.

[You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] the hands are his mask

Biography: Urthak was raised as a hunter, trained with a bow and skinning knife, and sent out into the frontier to bring back food for his family and friends. He made a fine career out of it, killing many animals and dressing them up to be eaten. Him and his family had earned quite a good name for themselves, until Urthak hunted too close to the Praxa border during the wrong time.

Within minutes he was beset by Human soldiers, flinging arrows and spears at him as he ran, letting loose what shots he could in a desperate bid to escape. It all proved worthless however, as he had ran straight into a line of spearmen and was consequently killed. However, that would not be the end of him, as he would be raised later, by the Undead, to help secure the borders he had inadvertently crossed.

Urthak was tasked with killing any living creature he could find, and using their body to scare away others, to clearly mark the boundries of their realm. His skills at cleaning and cutting animals would be turned towards making gruesome displays of horror to scare off enemies.

Needs more detail - Skippy

Name: Sile of Caper
Age: 25
Race: Human
Gender: Female

Class: Fighter
Description: Sile stands at a 5' 9", with fair hair and deep green eyes. Her outfit consists of cream white shirt (currently somewhat torn and bloodstained), with dark brown leather pants and dark brown leather gloves, with light brown leather boots. Around her waist is wrapped a snakeskin belt with two small leather travel bags attached. Her current weapon is a steel longsword, gifted to her by Rivii.

Biography: The quiet village of Caper is like many that dot the country - it smells of wet horse, and is filled with superstitious peasants that fear whatever may wander across and devour them. Of course there was always the far greater threat of starvation, famine and being murdered by a violent mob of bandits, but somehow that always fell second to the big bad griffin of the woods.

Then, one day a goat farmer, whom Sile never learnt the name of, was blessed by some grand fortune - his eighth child was born on the day the great orb of the night sky could not be seen (that was at least how the village 'priest' described it). The child itself was not of any fortune - it was a girl, and in turn hardly any use in the difficult, intensive labour of goat farming. The goat farmer's came when his prize goat, Mildred, gave birth to not six, but seven kids! The farmer then had a brilliant idea. He could make an unbelievable profit by selling his eighth child, this blessed token of good luck, and get rid of the difficult issue of having a second daughter.

Thus, he set off, and after three days of intensive rain soaked riding, he gave up on his goal of unrivalled luxury and sold the child to an overly drunk merchant at the nearest tavern. He then set off home. That was all Sile knew of her biological father - the blurred memories of a conversation had several years ago by a far too drunk Mertiens.

Mertiens, the youngest of the brothers, when awoken in then god forsaken early hours of the morning by a horrible, terrifying screech sound, found himself recounting the events that had occurred and how exactly he had managed to acquire this terrible source of sound. Then, unable to find it in him to abandon his morals and throw the child into the nearest river, returned to his brothers, child in hand.

Of course, the entire situation was rather difficult. The four brothers, who owned their own mercantile business, made most of their profits from long journeys through the country, moving from village to village. This was not exactly the perfect environment for raising a child - thus the brothers decided to wait before finally making a decision. It was a long wait, in fact, a wait that lasted roughly seven years. The decision, made eventually, was that the child, whom they had named Sile, was old enough to endure a journey through the country, and hopefully not die of some unfortunate disease. They had little choice, after all.

It worked, rather shockingly. There was plenty of complaining along the way, but it worked. The brothers had, for the first time in a while made a substantial profit, and Sile, well, she wasn't dead.

However, soon came another issue - what to actually do with the child. At that moment in time, as the eldest, Typhus, gently put it, she was an extremely unprofitable investment. She lacked, or at least the brothers believed she did, that necessary merchants impulse to follow in their footsteps. Then, Mox, the tallest of the brothers, and by far the most well built decided rather oddly to teach her how to wield a sword. He was the best trained in the art of combat out of the four, most likely having served in the military at some point in his life, however this was only a passing suspicion - Mox could barely speak the common tongue, and even then rarely spoke about his past.

Thus, Sile of Caper, the eight-born child of a goat farmer, was taught to fight. While she could not barter to save her life, was neither proficient in the art of cooking or cleaning, she became quite skilled with the sword. Or at least she thought she had.

After much discussion amongst the brothers, it was decided Sile would, for some time at least, be left with a friend of theirs, known as Rivii. Typhus, ever the economist, called it a step to becoming not such an unprofitable investment. Therefore Sile, in her fifteenth year of life, left her fathers and stayed with a man whom she would come to despise, yet, ultimately thank above all else.

Rivii was, at first sight, was far from impressive. He was old, at least to her, scarred, and missing an arm. How exactly would he be any better of a teacher than Mox? But, despite Sile later hatred for the man, she could not dispute the fact her initial view had been very, very wrong. Rivii was, in his prime, a man who had hunted things people like her biological father feared. The old man had slain Griffins, Wyverns, every sort of beast that roamed the country and beyond would at some point have tasted Rivii's blade.

Thus Rivii, as he must've agreed with the brothers, taught Sile what he knew in the way he had been taught - eight years of beatings, wounds, bruises - with the occasional reading exercise on the side. The first scars Sile earned came not from a terrifying Cockatrice as would be expected, but from many of Rivii's trials and tests. For the final of these Trials, Sile was told about an overly aggressive and rabid goblin and was told to slay it. After two weeks of tracking and hunting, through torrents of rain and howling winds, which were somewhat easier to handle than Rivii's tests of endurance, Sile finally took her first trophy. Returning to her 'mentor', the man whom for the past eight years had never once been silent, said nothing. Rivii simply nodded, showed her to the door, and shut it.

Sile of Caper, the eight-born child of a goat farmer, raised by four brothers who were not truly brothers, student of Rivii, in her twenty-third year of living was finally free. Free, yet, for perhaps the first time in her life, truly alone. Thus, with this new found independence, Sile, as Rivii had once done, travelled from town to town inquiring about any minor monster issues, avoiding any larger contracts, after all, as Rivii had taught her - any man who tried to hunt a Cockatrice on his own was overconfident, foolish, idiotic, and above all else, dead.

Approved by Kristy

Name: Delvar Rivetson
Age: 20
Race: Dwarf
Class: Fighter, Sword, Legionnaire recruit
Description/Image: [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]

Biography: Delvar was born to Bivvur the Surehammer, a talented blacksmith whose name is known throughout the city. Even though Delvar would grow up learning the trade of the hammer, he would ultimately pick up the sword. He opted to become a traveling mercenary, traveling being one of the many things he wished to do. However his father set him straight, convincing him to enlist into the Dwarven Legionnaires. However this didn't stop him from making any excuse to travel.

Delvar's natural talent couldn't be denied and was immediately put into training, officially becoming a recruit. For the next few years he'd hone his skills with the blade. Aside from a few other things, there was one major issue holding him back from becoming a full fledged legionnaire. He doesn't trust his fellow dwarves when in combat scenarios. Preferring to fight alone instead of a team, Delvar must overcome his lust for glory if he wishes to join the Legionnaires.

Approved by Kristy


Name: Skuu The Warrior

Age: 38

Race: Orc

Class: Warrior

Description/Image:  Skuu's poorly kept mohawk and facial hair are both black, only recently beginning to go grey.  His face makes him look ten years older and same goes for his scars.  If he stands up straight he measures at 6'6" and weighs around 230-240 pounds, which is pretty average for an Orc.  An Orcish rune is branded on his left cheek.

Equipment:  He wields a large two-handed single-blade greataxe and wears leather armor with spiked plate pauldrons along with plate boots and greaves.

Theme:

Spoiler:

Biography:  Skuu, past his prime of his warrior days but still continues to fight.  In his younger years he was a true blood brother, a dedicated follower to his tribe, slaying for his chieftain without question.  But Skuu began to question his leader's choices, allying with undead, raiding other clans for sport.  The young Orc left the tribe, but not before being branded a traitor, a mark that refuses Skuu entry of any chieftain's horde again.  Skuu made the journey across Praxa, trying his best to remain undetected by the undead and keeping his brand hidden from any Orc he crossed paths with.

After finally making his way out of the wasteland, Skuu just had to hope the humans wouldn't have him executed on the spot.  But to his surprise, the humans were more than happy to accept him volunteering to join their army.  In the following years, Skuu assisted in patrolling the borders of Praxa, dealing with any undead stragglers coming out of the cursed lands.

Nowadays Skuu spends less time fighting and more time recruiting and training in the three capitals of Palis.

Approved by Kristy

Name: Leokul Serpenthelm, Lord Of Sutrea; North West Palis

Age: 28

Race: Human

Class: Mage; Conjuration

Description/Image: This exactly:

Spoiler:

Biography: Leokul was born into nobility and magic and as such has studied the boundaries of both since he was a child. He became the Librarian of his district at the age of 14 and an accomplished sorcerer by the time he was 21. His father died when he reached 25 and he took up the title of Lord, leaving his advisors to mostly run the district instead. His work at the library continued for two years until he decided he needed to put his magic to more practical use instead of mostly theory. He has since travelled across all of Palis, meeting other Lords and expanding his powers.

Approved by Kristy.

Name: Marcus Aurelius
Race: Human, Male
Age: 30
Description: [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]  ((Without the spear))
Class: Warrior, Spellsword

Bio: Born into a simple life, Marcus' family lived in one of the many towns dotting Palis' countryside, where he lived a life of relative peace and happiness, with the exception of fending off wolf attacks on livestock. During this time, his abilities as a magic user manifested, his talent not being a modest one but a farcry from a true master of the art, and nowhere near as refined as those with years of practice. But with a talent for fire magic, Marcus was at least able to refine his skill enough for use in fending off the same wolves.

When he reached the age of eighteen, by law he was conscripted into the military for his mandatory two years of service. When his magic skill was tested and deemed acceptable, he was removed from the ordinary soldiers and put into the Spellsword division, and there taught how to use both blade and combat magic. After his two years of service were done and he was free to go where he wished, he took up a life of wandering, exploring and taking jobs as a sellsword.....though a sellsword with integrity.



So uh......do I have to put 'Approved by Kristy' at the top in blue or does she do that?
I do that.

Approved by Skippy

Name: Megill Imdras

Age: 92

Race: Elf

Class: Guardian (Warrior with experience with polearms and heavy armour)

Description/Image:

Spoiler:

Biography: The Imdras Family was once one of the wealthiest in all of Arleta, and lived deep within the capital. Megill was born to a general and a politician, and as such, spent much of his time admiring but not knowing his parents. He was educated, groomed, and soon he began to follow in the footsteps of his father, attaining a high rank within the military, and beginning a career of great value and note. Megill's childhood become little more than a myth; he, as many like him, spent almost every waking hour under watch of tutors, after all. When he first operated for the Arletan Military, he was stationed on the sea, to patrol the border of Palis and Praxa.

Though the campaigns Megill operated within gained a significant amount of influence for Arleta, and gave them access to the mainland for a short time. Megill was honoured for his service, and when his term ended, he was one of the few given the honour of retirement. He became a guard of the Royal Family, and stood as their guard for near half his life.

Megill had never known a family, other than his parents, and even they were often not much of a family to him. His mother loved him, but he barely even knew her face. To him, he was simply an Elf, little more. To many who knew him, this was a common source of crude humour and insults. Megill never found it funny, and on most occasions, ended the jokes with anger. They only came to an end when he finally met someone, an Elf from one of the islands of Arleta. She was commanding, beautiful, strong, gracious, everything Megill admired in women like her. It did not take long before the two were in love, and Megill resigned as a guard, and made to explore the world with his new love.

Their journey took them across forests, deserts, plains, castles, cities, rivers, all manner of beautiful and gracious places, and their love did little but grow over time. Often times, they even took part in hunting of criminals, and in one notable occasion, Megill personally put down someone suspected of Nercomancy. As she died, she cursed him, though he did not know what with. Megill and his love moved on, and continued with their lives in peace.

In Arleta, many found the absence of the heir to the Imdras Family distressing; Megill's mother and father had both resigned, and settled far from the city, expecting their son to return. The wealth of the family was left, as was its influence. When they discovered his love was keeping him in the world, many of the elite in Arleta felt a momentary resentment to her, only to dismiss such feelings; they did not know her.
But a set of wealthy orcish traders felt very differently; the Imdras Family had once been a very valuable trade partner, and with them practically gone, the trading band was suffering a great economic dismay. They hunted down Megill, in hope of bringing him back home, no matter the cost. When Megill woke up a few weeks later, he found his love gone. all that was left was blood in her bed, and an Arletan sword. That they could do this to him... it ripped Megill's heart asunder.

When Megill returned to Arleta, he was in fury. He had lost his mind, and began to violently assault people who questioned him, teased him, or mentioned his love. One day, he finally lost it, and with his family weapon, a great spear, began to massacre those around him in great violence. When authorities arrived, Megill looked horrifying, before he managed to flee. With the honour of the Imdras Family gone, Megill vanished into obscurity. He scarred his own face to hide from the Elves whom he had unjustly wronged, and cut his hair into a mangled mess of what it had been. He lived on in hopes of undoing the curse he only now understood, wondering what, if anything, could undo such a thing.

All approved by Kristy


Name Seneks of Sylwa
Age 72
Race Human
Class Mage Elementalist, Necromancer; Greater Element of Lightning and Minor Element of Air
Description

Spoiler:

Biography Seneks of Sylva is an old man and a mage of great power but unknown to the world. He is a wanderer, giving in to the wanderlust that took him in his youth, he has been traveling for nearly 60 years. In this time many friends, relatives, and family of his have died. Including his sons, daughters, wife, and other members of his family. He has since abandoned his last name for it is his belief that he has contributed enough to society and should not be remembered for anything more. He is charming, social, and temperamental. He refuses any who wish to travel with him because he does not like to be slowed down by the presence of others. Though he allows some people to follow him about a town, when he stops in to pick up some food or some other supplies he requires.

He has travelled far and wide, over tall mountains and steep valleys. He has been all over the known world, and beyond. In his time abroad he sired many sons, most of which he will likely never see. Some of which were outside of the known lands. He learned how to speak and read and write many languages, and has learned to respect many cultures and peoples.  He also learned things like Necromancy, a forbidden use of magic the knowledge of which he keeps to himself. He is a skilled Elementalist, conjuring the elements to do his whim and beat about his foe. Though he prefers cunning and wit to brute strength of magic. He also has knowledge of pole-arms, which he puts to use while wielding his magic-staff for additional magical punishment. In his twilight years he rarely feels the tiredness others feel at his age. Capable of keeping up with men half his age, though he often jests when in the presence of youth, that he does not have the energy to keep up with a man a third his age.

He is a wanderer, he does not stay in any place longer than he has too.

---

Name Nicked of Nocturium, Scholar of the Library of Mann
Age 20's
Race Human
Class Scholar
Description He has blue eyes and a warm smile. He stands just above average height and has a slim but wiry build. His hair is long and of a brown and blonde coloration that lends him many compliments from women and a few men. He grows a a beard that covers his upper lip and connects to the hair on his chine with a path of hair just beneath the center of his lower lip. This hair is of a darker coloration than his scalp hair. His veins are quite visible like blue lines throughout his body. His face looks common, but handsome, and he has small ears, of which his hearing is damaged but not damaged.
Biography He grew up in a merchant family of which he was the only child surrounded by many cousins. However, he did not spend much time with his cousins, he spent his time reading, that is, after he learned how to read, and later, when he learned to write, he tried writing books. In his schooling, paid for by his family, he learned many things with the teachers always trying to push him to be a merchant. Which he never showed any interest in, ever. After school he would spend most of his time in the local Library, also the only library in the city. The only library for many cities around. He read so much, that by the time he had reached the age of 15 he had nearly read every volume or scroll within the library. He also had a great knowledge of where the books were kept. Which meant that somedays he helped other visitors to the library find books. Even the Librarian from time to time. However, there were always some books that he was barred from reading. At least until he was 16 and persuaded the Librarian, in much a fashion any teenager does, to allow him to see these forbidden fruits. He was quite dismayed when he learned that most of the books were about magic and were almost no use to him, a non-magical person. However, he endeavored to read them all. So he did. He attained a great knowledge of spells, incantations, theories, and symbols relating to magic. However, this was of course an incomplete knowledge as he himself never really showed talent, or held any desire to have magic. He did, however, have a great knowledge of things some wizards and otherwise magical persons would like him not to have. At some point the government learned of what he might know, via the librarian, and he found himself in a prison cell all but disowned from his family he seldom if ever talked to, awaiting judgement. Eventually, he was seen as no threat, having no connections outside the city or many friends, he was given the job as Librarian's assistant. That's how he became the Librarian of Mann. Mann being the name of the city with the Library, located fairly far from the main human city of Palis. Since completely reading the books within the library he has made, several trips, during which he complained constantly, to a Library in the main human city, to read tomes and gossip with the Librarian there. He also travelled to the Elven city and visited their library, which he also read thoroughly. Much to their dismay. He has no combat skills but has a knowledge of a great many ways to make combat, but no practice or any such thing.

---

Name  Yulandris Aethril
Age 72
Race Elf
Class Mage Healer
Description An elven women of above average height with a narrow face. She has green eyes and strawberry blonde hair. Her voice is soft and sweet, much like midsummer's breeze. She wears a dress of blue and green, and bears no jewelry.  
Biography Born to an Elven High-Lord of much prestige she received the greatest education an elf could afford. Showing potential for magic and the art of healing at a young age to this path she was set. She learned and mastered the craft after many years of hard work. Much unlike many other youth she was a responsible workaholic. She got things done and done right when she put her mind to it. Little interested her in the way of suitors, though it was not for lack of want. As a healer, it is her duty to tend to the sick and injured. Her knowledge of herbalism allows her to make salves and other potions to treat injuries naturally without magic. Though there are times when magic is not enough and such potions are used she often enhances them with magic to magnify their healing effect. She has spent most of her seven decades on the isle of Arletta. Travelling only as far as the coast of the mainland, never far inland nor to any city. She has only heard stories of the human lands, the minotaur lands and their shamans, the dwarves, and the undead. She has never seen a dwarf, human, minotaur, or any of the undead. Her combat skills are minimal, the greatest injury she can befall someone is a reversal of healing.  

Approved by Kristy

Name: Taionia Llamryl Selphie
Age: 26
Race: Elf
Class: Rogue
Description/Image:
Appearance :

Physical appearance :

Biography:

Once the daughter of a minor noble, Taionia was captured at age fifteen when a band of Orcs raided her family's manor. Her family was butchered, along with most of the guards and servants, then the manor torched with Taionia believed dead. In fact, fate deemed for her to be cruelly still alive and in the clutches of the vile Orcs. For eleven years she endured the hardships of being a slave to such lowly beasts, whose cunning and strength was only matched by their cruelty. Through out those eleven years she plotted her escape, waiting for the right opportunity to seek freedom and flee from them.

When the chance came after eleven years, she seized it. It took some skill evading the Orcs sent after her, as escaped slaves were shown little mercy. She eventually after many days journeying and with her fair share of lucky escapes made it to the human kingdom of Palis were she could find some sanctuary from the Orcs who she believes still hunt her.

Name: Feardorcha scáth. (Humans wouldn't have such a name. Change it.)
Age: 26
Race: Human
Class: Hunter.
6'4
Image.
[You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]

Bio:

>If anything needs changing, just lemme know. I made a few assumptions about the lore as there wasn't exactly a tome to browse.<
Approved by Skippy

Name: Anotheyn "Ahn" Haetet
Age: 28
Race: Human
Class: Mage, Necromancer

Description: A little on the tall side, lanky, and pale for a human with hands stained black by ash. Silverblue eyes, long brown hair which seems not to have met a brush in years, and a series of self-inflicted burn scars across his body in the form of short horizontal lines. His nails are not long, but long enough to be filed into claws, mostly an aesthetic choice than a practical one. His entire outfit is often covered by a larger, longer robe which reaches down to his ankles and wrists, and has a hood large enough to be pulled over his eyes.

Disabilities: Hallucinating Bipolar, poor eyesight caused by physical trauma in youth, Iron-Deficiency Anemia
I want to establish for the record that the inclusion of Hallucinating Bipolar isn't to be edgy or cool. I actually have it and can tell you from experience that it isn't cool, it fucking blows.

Spoiler:

Biography: Anotheyn was born in a small farming town in the Palis Empire, southwest of Azinath near the boarder of Praxa. His community saw its occasional harassment by wandering undead or raiding parties from Praxa, but nothing the townsfolk couldn't handle with relatively little loss. The young Ahn took an interest in magic at the young age of 10, and his parents deemed it okay for him to learn what he could from his great uncle, the town's magical doctor. Over the next decade or so, he spent much of his free time studying the arcane arts, never much of a socialite anyway, and even after his great uncle died of natural causes when he was 21, he continued to practice and learn.

Though he would never claim to be a grand wizard by any stretch of the means, he liked to think he could hold his own in a fight if it came down to it; One day, he got the chance to prove it. While out in the woods collecting rhaspberries and other wild plants for his mother, he ran across a small handfull of undead, who chased him through the woods until they lost him in the wilderness. He was terribly frightened, never having seen an undead up close before, so when a mysterious stranger wielding a big shiny sword surprised him from only a few yards away, he blasted a hole clean through the man's bare chest, killing him instantly.

He panicked, this was no undead he'd just murdered, it was a living Human. His thoughts were racing, his heart was pounding, and in that moment he made a split-second decision, for better or worse. Using his garden hand-shovel, he stabbed himself in the hand and traced symbols and patterns all over the body to the best of his recollection. Once, when he was younger, he saw his great uncle treat a patient in this way, and watched as the woman walked off from a sickness which had plagued her for decades. His great uncle told him to forget what he'd seen, and he never saw the woman again, but that day was burned into his memory forever, and he'd always questioned why he never cured anyone else with such magic.

It was crude, imperfect, but it worked. The markings faded to white and the swordsman coughed, standing after a few moments and feeling the fist-sized hole clean through his torso. It was only then that Anotheyn realized what he did, and fully understood what he'd seen as a child. Then the fear set in, the fear of what would happen to him should he return to his town a Necromancer. Would he be able to keep the secret? Would they run him out of town? Would they kill him? He didn't know what to do, so he ran. The swordsman followed, and the pair made it back to town around nightfall. Anotheyn grabbed what he could from home and set out with the newly undead, swearing he would re-kill him the moment they reached... anywhere, anywhere far far away, and he didn't need him anymore.

Over the next six years, the two wandered the woods together, becoming good friends and coming to rely upon each other for survival in the wilds. It's been a rough existence, but they've managed to make it one worth living...



=========================================================



Name: "Kin" Haetet, aka "Erickin"
Age: 35 at death, 6 years Undead (41 total)
Race: Undead, formerly Human
Class: Spellsword

Description: Just barely taller than his master/companion, deathly pale and thin. Several stab and slash scars from life, and a fist-sized hole clean through his chest. His hair is long and brown, as is his almost comically long goatee. His shoulders, forearms, legs, and feet are protected by plate armor with simple cloth underneath. The red skirt around him reaches past the knees and is pleated, allowing full range of motion in combat. He often wears a thick grey cloth tabard over his chest to conceal the wound that would otherwise obviously mark him as Undead. While he would never dare enter a city, he seems human enough to non-mages to get by in a small town or village.

Weaknesses: The ritual by which he was brought into unlife was shoddy, and so pieces of his personality, his memory, and his human mind were lost in the process. He is compelled by his master's will, and must follow any order given to him by the one who raised him. He often feels it necessary to ask permission even for basic tasks, and cannot find it within himself to disobey his master's wishes. He is discomforted by mages, as they make him anxious and paranoid, and by other undead, who's very presence seems to put a voice in his head calling him to Praxa.

Spoiler:

Biography: Kin used to be a Mercenary in life, this much he is sure of, though the process by which he was made undead left many gaps in his memory. What he can piece together is that he was a relatively successful sellsword and made enough money to live comfortably bouncing from inn to tavern and so on. He thinks he was also a thrillseeker, though he certainly isn't anymore, and that his passion was slaying "monsters" for fame and glory. What he can recall in detail is the day of his death and resurrection:

He was hired to take out a couple of undead who'd wandered a little too close to a town and was tracking them through the woods when he heard yelling. He ran as fast as he could to help the stranger, and when he finally found him... He remembers a warm feeling in his chest that quickly gave way to chills and nausea. He barely had time to notice how difficult it was to breathe before everything faded to black, and the next thing he knew he was sitting up, poking about the new cavity where his heart should have been. When the human ran, he felt compelled to follow, and did so without thinking anything of it. He helped the young mage flee his hometown and into the wilds, where he protected him and kept him company over a journey that would span several years.

Somewhere along the way, the two realized that Kin had forgotten his own name through the resurrection, and so was given the symbolic name Kin by his master, and even took on his surname. These past years haven't been the best he's seen... or have they..? But he has been by his master's side the whole time, and that's all he's needed...

Name: Domoko Waylost

Age: 32

Race: Minotaur

Class: Barbarian

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Biography: Domoko had been quite young when he and his friends decided to explore. They'd challenged each other to cross the mountains, and see who could make it to Ricteron and back first. Five of the six of them made it, Domoko ended up tripping and getting lost in the mountains, before wandering through the forests for near three days, before eventually stumbling onto a small farm, owned by a family of four, a husband and wife and their young children. Initially, Domoko expected to die there and then.

Instead, he was greeted by intrigue. The children had never seen one like him, and the parents were humble folk. Initially they let him wander and eat, so he could return home, but it didn't take long for him to simply not return. He stayed amongst the small family, first guarding their farm, and then joining them in the harvest. Eventually he started to work in wood, chopping down trees to expand the farm more when the children had their own kids. Three generations, and they all knew Domoko, and he knew all of them.

When the elderly couple who had once taken him passed away, Domoko decided it was time to move on. He'd spent time keeping the farm safe from bandits, and with his extra manpower the farm had turned into something quite impressive. No longer anything like his kin in Vahl'hrem, he wandered west after bidding farewell to his friends, and became a nomadic wanderer, a kind soul but not one that was without dreams. Like the humans he had been raised by, he was not one to turn away a coin, and as a fighter, not to mention a big guy, he was often conscripted for bodyguard roles and fighting.

Not long into his time wandering, he ran into a group of Minotaurs. They saw him and spoke with him, and for the first time in his life he suffered racism - they deemed him Waylost, for he had lost the way of nature, and the peace of his race. In silence they parted ways, and Domoko silently forgot all he'd remembered of his youth among his kin.