Post/Author/DateTime	Post
JaiaDrottsingr 06-24-07, 04:20 PM	Please. No statistics. I am a thief. An outcast. An abomination. An untouchable. A drow. I am a gambler. A storyspinner. An adventurer. Marooned. Haunted. Betrayed. Murdered. Loved. Trusted. Accepted. Resurrected. My eyes appear are white at first glance. Nay, they are white surrounded by silver rings. My eyes change in bloodlust. Dark. Darker than all things. Darker than my skin. Beauty is only skin deep, I've heard tell. Acceptance runs through your soul, they've said. And then they run when they see the dark, deep, blue skin of a drow. They are less trustworthy than my hair. My hair? It can't stay in one place. It is wild and untamed. The only part of it that is calm is the back, where it curves into a short ponytail, "held" by a piece of "Permanent Faerie Fire." My faerie fire is green. Green as the grass with which I washed my daggers today. My daggers? I once had a duo named Life and Death, but they were lost. I now carry the vampyric blade of Keratis and Draek, a sword that I found lodged in a dead dragon's maw. I do not pretend to have killed it. It was rotten and decomposing. It has one simple power. Repetitive Explosion. Almost as strange as my name. My name is Jaia Dröttsingr. My name has no truth. It is false, as I have never even met another drow. My face shall remain obscured beyond the mask I am wearing. I think it sufficeth only to tell I am a male.
ishpu 06-25-07, 07:53 AM	Irid… this small town has been my home for all my life. I was the victim of a terrible wound as a child from redcaps that attacked one night, I try not to think of that night, as it was the most terrible thing I have witnessed… They forced me to watch as they mutilated my parents, I couldn’t move, as much as I hate to admit it even now I’m terrified of those tiny monsters. Some say they are fey but they are not! Dryads and sprites are fey to me, No they are demons, wholly evil and despicable. After the few moments of the torture that went on my parents stopped screaming, it was dead silent minus the sound of my heartbeat throbbing in my head, then finally darkness overtook me. However it seems my life wasn’t to be over yet. I woke up in a monestery a short time later, one that I had walked by many times while walking in the nearby forrest nearby Irid, the monks had saved me and destroyed the demons. Until then I’d not even seen them, I’d only heard the stories of how they had protected the town since it’s creation. They have been my only family for the last fourteen years, I came here when I was five and everyday I have dedicated my life to protecting not only my new family, but the nearby town as all monks here do. I shall continue to do so until I die from whatever it is that shall end my life.
The_wizard_Tim 06-28-07, 12:35 PM	Aleron, I was sent to the church fostered by them really my father didnt have time for his youngest son. I was to become a cleric during my combat training I was noticed by Kalion the merciful the greatest paladin of our church. He took me into his world of pius combat and showed me evil in its most base form and then showed me how to distroy it. My mentor died on one of our trips to the dalelands ambushed by drow, 50+ came at our party only myself and our scout Gorn survived. I have dedicated my service sence that trip to the quest of delivering justice to the Drow and all there allies. Its been 6 yrs sence my quest started, Gorn and I are on our way to deliver some justice to the evil touched drow! we are on the way to a plane called the demon web pits following a high cleric of lolth so that I might stop one more evil plot from being fulfilled.
mattgoodman502 06-28-07, 08:29 PM	The name Is Joen, If you want a story, I'm the guy for the job. okay, not "guy" I'm the satyr for the job, please don't mind me looking at the mirror we all have our vices, you know and in comparison, vanity isn't al that bad plus, i do have good reason to be infatuated, don't I? oh yes, the story... My own tale is not the happiest but nor is it the saddest, a small army of minotuars ravaged my forest when I was young, Killing my parents and injuring yours truly mentally. I ran away, that being the only thing I knew how to at the time being. wound up in a small town called cottlewood blah blah blah, met some half elves,lived with them for i was among outcasts blah blah blah,we decided to move away. moved to the Golden city of Islington, where i ment many of my musical and deviant mentors who taught me the keys to getting what you want whilst still being witty and charming. me and the half elves split ways eventually, and i didn't see hide nor hair of them for the longest time, until one day they came back. "oh Joen, we were foolish" they cried to me. "oh Joen, let us leave this foul place" so we did. we left again. well, a few days down the road, they attacked me, beat me within an inch of my life, then they cursed me. i shan't say with what, but let it be known that i shall never remove theese curses, for they are a reminder to never trust, and to never be trusted. completeley. what happened next? well, I woke up in a small bed in a tavern, when I came to, the barman said that the group of young men harassing the gnomes playing poker found yours truly in a horrid state. I was 'ome, and among friends. now, if you excuse me, i must get prepared, I have a show to do in a few hours, and i must figure out a way between now and then for me to earn *more* than just a few gold pieces, if you catch my drift.
OctaviusIII 06-28-07, 08:55 PM	I am Godric son of Reuel. I am a cleric of the high Progenitor and his aspects the Sovereign Host. To the clergy of the Host I am a heretic, but I am just a scholar seeking the truth. I am the power of god, son of the friend of god, for I am aasimar, born blessed with the blood of angels. I am a professor of religious studies at Morgrave University. I am a cleric of knowledge whose church is the classroom and whose flock is his students. I am the cleric of the high Progenitor and his aspects the Sovereign Host, but I am not alone. Are you with me?
Sang-Drax 07-01-07, 08:59 PM	Me and the Ruby Queen have some sort of agreement, that's all - I bring 'er some old tomes, she gives me power. Yes, I'm a cleric, but don't count on me to herd the flock or attend the sick. Dude, I absolutely hate touching those stinky people with open festering wounds... :yuck:. I can't even disguise my repugnance anymore... they look at me like I was a monster. That's why I'm all about rescuing some pieces of old magical knowledge and beating the life out of whomever stands in my way. It may sound evil to most of you who are used to the old Peloric rhetoric fallacy, but it's not. I mean... I'm not a hypocrite, ok? I know you've probably heard of some cleric or paladin that claims he loves chit-chatting with the dying, visiting their grandma every other weekend, and baking cookies for the orphans in their spare time. These are the kind of people that fight by my side, for the same very reason: power. Screw that! We're pretty much alike, except that I don't lie. They're always too busy killing things to do such things. And by doing that, they spill the same blood I do. Am I so different from the servants of the Sun-god? As for me, I'm not a cleric, cleric. I'm more like a paladin-knight of some sort, only that fights better, casts betters, and who's not stupid. Some other thing. Those crusades against the undead. Come on, give me a break... I mean, undead have no choice. They're evil because so. They can't help it. A vampire feeds from blood and life force from sentient beings... we can't expect them to be nice! Or the poor zombies - nothing more than puppet corpses. Why all the hate for these wretched things? Mind you, I'm not protecting the rights of vampires. I just don't understand why hate something like that when people are obviously way much worse.
Candide 07-01-07, 11:03 PM	I'm Don Antonio Juan Hernandez Montoya (Don Juan) I'm a grey elf, a bard, a talespinner, a musician, a conniving bastard and a liar. I adventure because its the only way to truly get noticed these days. I want to be noticed, not just by a few silly drunken foolish humans in a tavern, but by scores of them, sober or not. I want thorps, hamlets, villages, towns, cities, and countries to look upon me in wonder and despair. But I can't do that by just standing around singing like a darn fool. I have to get out and do things. I shacked up with a party of people who I hate but suffer just enough, so that I may one day achieve my goal. It's perhaps sooner than anyone really thinks. I was visited in a dream, Loki, the sly one mentioned that if I wanted true power, that I'd need a divine sponsor. I had nothing to offer him, as I'd signed away my soul to Hel when I was murdered years before So I offered my companions. And really, companions is such an expensive word for what they are. Meatbags, all of them. Something to stand in the way of attackers. Even the wretched gnome. But also the horrible dwarf. I loathe him the most... Now don't take me for a fool, I know I made a deal with the prince of lies. I don't expect that he'll keep all of his bargain, or any of it. But I'm sure he'll take the adventurers I'm with, and when that time comes, I'll find some other party worthy of my talents and see how far they get me.
Radijs 07-02-07, 04:46 AM	My name is Santo Dantes. Blue blood runs through my veins but without the money or power to back it up it doesn't matter. I was and still am a soldier. I fought in pointless wars and I've guarded royalty. Now I am a soldier for hire. I've cast off the moral high ground because I've seen that there is no justice in the world, Only the strong and the useful survive. Right now I'm useful. I do the only thing I know how to do properly. I intimidate, hurt people and kill people for money. People preach to me about morality and honor but they are just words used by the people with power to keep those without in line. So don't come to me preaching for the greater good. If you want something done you pay me in gold.
CrimsonWyvern 07-03-07, 01:10 AM	Gorgi has had experiences that would scar most, and they have to him slightly. Gorgi has little recollection of his past, but Gorgi knows that he did help his fellow Dragonkin do something horrible, and that his father was heartless. Gorgi's comrades tell him that he talks differently, in a way that is highly unusual, and Gorgi doesn't know where it comes from. Gorgi was not blessed as many are with being very intelligent or charismatic, the latter as his species usually does. However, his perception and insight make up for his weakness for his species. Gorgi has traveled a long time, and will not rest until he makes up for what he did. Gorgi only hopes that by saving enough civilians from himself and others that he will achieve peace. Gorgi believes that he will have to face his past eventually. Gorgi has nearly been traumatized by his friends' deaths. He has resolved to not let it happen again. Gorgi requires that he uses self discipline so he never must fear harming a civilian again. I am Gorgi. And no matter what happens, no matter how long I live, I will always be a hero.
pbradley179 07-03-07, 09:00 PM	There was once a magic flying castle known as the Crying Spire, which was home to the Spireans, a race of half-elves so locked in their xenophobic fear of the outside world they were forced to conquer endlessly. In this rigid caste based system, the greatest champions were the Mageknights of the Crying Spire, whose sole ambition was to die gloriously in the service of their psychotically lawful God-King Emperor, Archangel Uriel. The entire society was steeped in rules, castes, and eudamonia: art, humor and outside influences all relentlessly ground out of the people by their rigid social structure and the limited privacy of the castle. Everything, even love, was regulated so as not to upset the delicate balance of population. No one really loved anyone, except for the Archangel Uriel, who loved all within his dominion. Only, there was a war: a Beholder Emperor who united the Beholders, and began a campaign to retake the above-ground world. The Mageknights, wielding rings of flight and wands of every color engaged in a brutal dogfight around their flying castle with the aberrations, shooting the creatures down and being disintegrated. In the end, both sides lost. As the castle's magical flight failed under the gaze of the creatures, it released the magical energies of a million staffs of power, vaporising both sides utterly. As far as he knows, Galen is the last of the Mageknights. Having somehow survived the war, he relentlessly searches for other members of his people, learning along the way to shed much of his previous ways of thinking. Even now, from so much exposure to the outside world, he is so unrecognizable as to be aberrant to his people. He wants to know why he has to go on surviving, and doubts anyone has that answer but the dead.
TheWhirlingDeathaxe 07-04-07, 12:04 AM	Rhodric's Journal 5/22/306 I was finally given a post in the town watch today! I bested 6 other men my age with nothin but a wooden stick! They say I gotta start on night watch at first. Thersine is ever peaceful at night, really it's peacfull all the time, so I don't expect much to do. Mother made such a big deal of it. I 'pose it does mean alot, what with father gone missing these last months and our dock rent due. I'll have to do somethin nice for her when I get this months pay. 6/5/306 The town priest, Telva, he come to me tonight at my post at the docks. Boy he had some troubles on his face I tell ya! Says tomorrow is some big anniversary of some great wrong doing in Thersine. Says be on the look out for folks that got no business on the docks. Heh...what did he think I was doin? 6/8/306 Everyone I know is dead. Been burning carcasses for 2 days now...I'm finally done. They came at night, just like Telva said they would. First it was just one. A tall man in long robes, standin at the end of the pier like a statue. Curfew been called over an hour ago, so I asks him his business. But when he turns he aint no man. Had black skin and all spikey. And a tail like some kind of spiked wyrm. I draw my sword, and suddenly I can't move a muscle. Had me under some kind of magic. He looks at me awhile and says "You are innocent and free of this contract. We may not kill you." Then he laughs and smoke comes out his nose and he says "we will use you." Next thing I know theres demons and devils flying everywhere, tearin down doors and bustin through windows. They started slaughterin and burning folks with magic. Suddenly I was all able to move again, but It was not a good thing. My body had a will of its own. I tried to stop. I prayed to every god n spirit I know and I couldn't stop. I killed every man woman and child what crossed my path. Then as quick as it all started it was over. Demons were all gone and everyone....cept me....was dead. 6/9/306 I found Telvas body today at the temple. Looks like he killed one of the Demons. Nothin left of the wretched thing but its tunic and some burn marks. I think I done all I can in Thersine. What will happen now? I feel the evil spell of them creatures buring inside me. Nobody can know the truth of what happened here. I must atone for what I did, and avenge those that died. I'll track down those Demons or Devils or whatever they are! 6/12/306 I'm on the road to Sasserine. I took to wearin the tunic of the slain Devil to cover up my identity. I will learn to hunt them. Someday it will be me coming to thier home and slaughterin them! For now though, I need some money, and adventuring, I heard , is great for that. From this day forward, I am no longer Rhodric Greysail. I will call myself Hellsword, and evil will fear me.
Blind Io 07-04-07, 07:28 AM	I am Viscount Imo Hatyr of Haticia. My brother, the Count of Haticia, sucks. Fricking asswipe. Always parading around the city, dishing out false comradery and leadership when all he wants is for all to elect him Lord Mayor of the city. The House of Commerce clearly isn't enough for him. I'm just a joke to everyone. Born too late for my father to see me grow up, and too late for my mother to give a crap, I've just been the little kid in the palace. If I tore apart the curtains in the Main Hall, all I ever got was Margaret telling me that was a 'no-no' and quickly asking the staff to replace it before mother arrived. I've lost count of the ammount of damage I've caused at home. And no matter how much I tried to destroy the place, it looked the same the day after. I've climbed every tower and walked on every ledge of the place, much to the dismay and horror of the staff - and the indifference of mother. Then the eldest child decided to take a political stand in the local community. In no time, due to father's status in the whole county, received a nice title of chief of Foreign Relations. Ten years went by, he became chief of the House of Commerce, father died, mother went into depression and I, forever in the background, was driven further and further away from everything and everyone. Everyone says that a man is a man when he turns 18. Well, I’m 19 and nothing is clearly changing. My last six birthdays were celebrated alone, in the Grand Library, where I like to spend most of my time devoted to the absorbance of knowledge. Any kind of knowledge. Beats the hell out of the outdoors and a normal social life. Margaret is still around, that poor old thing. She’s the only one that remembers my birthday each year. Last birthday she brought me a bone carving, wrapped around a leather strap. She told me it was a good luck charm – something she’d brought from relatives in the northern lands. I never understood that woman’s desire to care for me. If she had only been born better, she could actually have demanded some attention. Instead of that, here she remains, with only me to worry about in her wretched life. I always wonder what it feels like to serve someone. My birthright is to demand service from those unfortunate fools who in some rundown shack, over piles of haystacks and horse manure, came into this world. I sometimes feel the undead have it better than them. Their knowledge of the world is finite; whereas these people know their crummy lives will never get better and still manage to somehow wake up day after day. I wish I could get undead servants. I wouldn’t pity them. Speaking of undead, I learned the other day that the bone carving I carry around, Margaret’s gift on my last birthday, is the symbol of Wee Jas. I was rummaging through the everlasting books of the Grand Library and found one on forgotten gods. In this part of the world people only worship the happy gods. The single happiest god around, to be more precise. Consequently, they refrain from questioning the absurdly hypocritical nature of their beliefs and forget the ‘not-so-happy’ deities. Brother prances around with a little Pelor sun on his necklace. The Sun dude is very big here. I could never pull myself into believing in him. There is also the fact that the Church backs my brother’s every step, making fundraisers within the community to promote themselves and my brother, and always preach things I can’t seem to fathom very easily. There’s too much handling the sick and poor, too much blessing of crops. There is never any sign of unquestionable truth to their actions. All they want is the same as my brother – power and control. They bless the crops so the county will prosper and the farm folk will give back by donating enough to keep the Church expanding their faith. They tend the sick so they don’t lose worshippers. There’s nothing wrong with death. It was what my father said, in his very last breath. That has stuck with me throughout my life, and Wee Jas has helped me understand that channel that knowledge. I had never heard of Wee Jas before that day. Upon learning of the Scarlet Princess’ existence (is there a more absurdly awesome name possible?), I began to dwell, day after day, in the long forgotten magic and religious books father kept in the east wing of the library. I remember no one ever went there. Not even father. I only knew where to look after seeing that the book I had found was cataloged as belonging to the east wing, but was found in the opposite section of the Library. The books were dusty, in dire need of someone to absorb the amazing knowledge kept in them. The east wing was the hardest to get to. First the step ladder had to be taken from the much-used (on my part, always) West Wing and dragged for many feet until the east end. Luckily I’ve learned that I’m surprisingly strong for someone who detests all sorts of athletic endeavors. Then there was the challenge of getting the main doors opened after so many years of lack of use. After much debate with myself whether I should have tried a subtle or not-so-subtle approach, the latter was used. I knew the doors were going to be replaced the next day anyways, and I made sure the new locks would work only with keys I possessed. The east wing was filled with such amazing books that I found myself taking some of them back to my chambers to study well into the night. I cursed my weak magic powers - I couldn’t withstand a simple flame or lightsource for enough time through the night to feed my hungry desire to learn more and more. I quickly realized the wing was where all the real magic and socially-inept books were. I found a vast number of magic books, only a handful comprehensible to this yet feeble and pathetic mind of mine. Most were uncataloged; some were even bloodstained. It was all so undecipherable, and so absolutely enticing that I decided to forever devote myself to the study of the magical arts. I had finally found a calling in life.
Karish 07-04-07, 09:46 PM	They call me Redeye, but my name is Akurat. Let's get this straight. I don't like to talk about myself, but I'm making an exception for this. I'm a sniper. A bounty hunter, a mercenary, an assassin and a bodyguard. I am the shadow of the fearless damsel, I am the whisper in the dark, telling villains of their final breath. I am Life, and yet I am Death. I'm human. Technically. Though I'm not a normal one. Why do you think my right eye is red, and my left black as a pupil? How else is my hair more like silk than what it truly is, why else do my footfalls come without noise? Lucky you, you get to know why. My father came from the Plane of Shadow, and my mother who raised me taught me of him. To be honest, he's the only man I've ever liked, and I never met him; he died on my first day in life. Now if you want a job, let me say this; I'm not killing kids, and I'd rather not kill women unless they're as tough as I am. and if you are worried I'll hurt someone other than the target, you might want a new man. If you want me to protect someone, they better be damn worth it. I'm not helping another man, and I'm not saving a woman who can help herself. The tools of the trade, Shadowshot is my main ally. A longbow may pack a bigger punch, and a heavy crossbow may shoot farther, but I can't say I've seen a man fire either from under a cloak unnoticed. Nor can I say I've been bested by another sharpshooter using one. And if SS isn't enough, Terror and Misery are there to back up... You know, there's a funny thing about kukri like them. They cut so heavily its like an axe, but they're as precise as a dagger in the right hands. Now, if you have anything else you want from me, make it quick. I've spent more than enough time explaining.