A place for dead or inactive threads. May they rest in peace.

Giant stamp archives.

Giant stamp archives.

Postby kembaru » Wed Apr 12, 2006 7:04 am

Ah yes, the rare and elusive giant stamps...

We in the FFRPG are always striving to earn this great honor, and newcomers to this strange place are often referred back to the registration thread in order to read on these applications of greatness, however, the registration thread being the vicious jungle that it is, it is often difficult for one to find these magnificent specimens of writing.

As thus, I shall be collecting each and every giant stamped application to Xian, using my skills of hunting and tracking, cutting and pasting.

These shall be posted in chronological order, as thus, those more recently added will show the current standards that Xian expects of those applying to play in the Drowtales world settings.

So... some ground rules.
-Kembaru is your archivist for the present time.
-Respect your archivist for s/he is your god(ess) in this thread.
-No spam.
-By 'spam' I mean 'any posts of any kind other than those made by the archivist'.
-Basically: Don't touch my thread, for it is my baby.
Last edited by kembaru on Thu Apr 13, 2006 12:20 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby kembaru » Wed Apr 12, 2006 7:19 am

Last edited by kembaru on Tue Aug 08, 2006 11:30 pm, edited 42 times in total.
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Sen Zeh'rial - By Starlitdragon.

Postby kembaru » Wed Apr 12, 2006 11:16 am

Name: Sen Zeph’Rial (Senlaia was her given name)
Race: Drowolath
Age: 102
Weapons: Standard priestess whip (similar to the one owned by the late Sullisin’rune Yathrine from Breach of Faith, though with only three tails). Slim adamantine dirk.
Magick: Light Elements
Beginning City: Val’Ravervan
Clan: Val’Illhar’dro

Senlaia was born the eldest daughter of her generation. As such, she was expected to be a strong, capable daughter, whom her future siblings could look up to. She was sent at an early age to be educated in Spellsong (aged 32). It was soon found she had no voice, or talent whatsoever for that art. Senlaia had already failed in the eyes of her mother, San’Faeleha, a woman proud of her prowess in the mysterious field of Spellsong. Nevertheless, she tried to salvage the family honour, and sent Senlaia to be educated as a Yathrine. The Zeph’Rial family were traditionally devout believers, and San believed her child, if not a lofty Songstress, would at least earn respect as a Priestess.

Off Senlaia went to the school of the Yathrines (age 45). This was well before tainting was viewed as a sign of power. Senlaia was fascinated by the Light she could create, to the point where her teachers would punish her for flaunting her powers, instead of focussing on serving their Goddess. In the elitist atmosphere, Senlaia soon developed the arrogance that defined the Yathrines so well. She was a favoured pupil, and it seemed she was about to re-earn the favour of her mother.

Then her younger sister was born.

Sai’Marah was found to be gifted in Spellsong. Delighted, San withdrew nearly every favour from her eldest daughter, and transferred it to Sai. In contrast to Senlaia, Sai was wise, conscientious, and everything her older sister lacked. In Senlaia’s eyes, Sai was a monster that had chiselled away her future. Thus, on a leave home, she slipped a chemical in her sister’s meal that stripped the lining of her throat. If it weren’t for the aid of skilled healers, Sai would have died that night. The result was permanent however: Sai’s stunning alto voice was lost forever.

Journal Entry:
Praise be to Sharess. I have destroyed that which has blotted my light. The little wench, called my ‘sister’, will never again earn the favour of Mother. I am glad, and indeed hope to be there to see her suffer. But a strange thing happened: I could not sleep the last night. I believe it to be the excitement over my victory. Should this ailment persist however, I will strangle the alchemist that sold me the poison. I handled it safely, save when a drop of the lethal fluid touched my hand. The alchemist assured me I would be fine. Though I warned him to keep his secret, I believe he would betray me to the music of ada. I shall pay a visit to him on the morrow. Indeed, none must know what I have done. –Senlaia

San’Faelaha acted as Sen had predicted. However, she did not re-extend her hand to Senlaia. Instead, San became reclusive, hardly ever showing her face to public. The woman believed Sharess was punishing her for a wrong she must have committed, and descended into a fanatic religious routine. Meanwhile, Senlaia began to fill in the duties as the head of the house. At the age of 58, all the males of her family looked to her for representation or judgement.

Senlaia’s sleep problems persisted. While they faded when Sen left the Val’Illhar’dro fortress, they returned a tenfold when she had to return home. Eventually, she began to have nightmares. Her sister haunted her dreams every night. Sai’Marah had become as reclusive as her mother, but Sen would shriek at the mere thought of her.

Journal Entry:
I have killed the alchemist that sold me the vial that brought doom upon me. Before he died, he told me the contact with the poison should not have affected me at all. Liar! He suffered the wrath of Sharess for his insolence. But the nightmares.. They are truly terrible. I would do anything to be rid of them. I dream of demons devouring me, all while she laughs. There is nothing I can do. Nobody knows, and nobody can help me. Sharess, please.. I cannot take it anymore! My Goddess, please show me the path so that I can stop this madness...

Ten years later, on her 68th birthday, Senlaia snapped. She could no longer shoulder the guilt caused from nearly murdering her little sister. She appealed to her mother, San’Faelaha, for forgiveness. San'Faelaha, upon finding out what destroyed her pride, was furious. She disowned Senlaia and refused to let her return to the school of Yathrines. Senlaia had one small section of training to complete before she could be fully confirmed in the eyes of the Goddess. Secretly, she returned to the school, feigning nothing was awry. She passed her ceremony, and departed. Senlaia no longer had a will to stay with her clan, though because she knew she could afford to make no more enemies, she did not officially denounce them. Senlaia had changed since then. All she wishes now is to forget her shame, and to be forgiven. The ability to summon light and use it to blind her enemies and dispel shadows used to be natural to Senlaia, but with the crumbling of her confidence came the weakening of her powers. For the last thirty odd years, Senlaia served her clan in the few military matters they engaged in, considering their peaceable status within the Drow society. She met several warriors, and befriended a few of them, despite most of them being males.

Currently, Senlaia is only loosely connected to her family. Her mother softened her stance slightly after the passing of a few years [she will not a) attempt to kill her daughter on sight and b) will let her draw financial aid from the family provided she obeys her commands.] San’Faelaha has resumed her position at the head of the Zeph’Rial family. To date, when Senlaia is not on a mission set by her mother, she will wander as far as possible from her home to forget her nightmares. She cropped her name to simply 'Sen', perhaps in an unconscious attempt to make her past fade...

Height: Six foot three.
Weight : 170 pounds
Eye Colour : Dark blue, with the traditional splash of crimson in the centre.
Hair Colour : Long, pure white, usually tied up.
Clothing: Senlaia usually chooses to dress in the black robes of the Yathrine when interacting with strangers. However, in her leisure hours, she will wear the purples and blues loved by the members of her clan. Senlaia has an affinity for silver, and will purchase silver jewelry whenever possible. Worn black boots, and a black cloak bearing the emblem of the Val’Illhar’dro rounds off her attire.
General Appearance/Personality: Always dressed for the appropriate occasion. Senlaia has long learned good mannerisms, though she will often drop them when interacting with a male. Though she does her best to hide her natural arrogance, it will show through when she is in a position of power. Senlaia tries (and fails) to be professional. She broods a good deal, and often does not pay attention if she is fatigued.

[EDIT: Forgot the time zones. Sorry, I am 6 hours behind GMT]

Xian wrote:Starlitdragon: See? I hope everybody is watching this. Let me get my stamp.


This is what a character submission is supposed to look like. There should be at least twice as much background as there is everything else. If only it could be put together in every submission as it is here. Exemplary. Hope your friend decides to play.
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Hanoi Zo'klein by Satsoken.

Postby kembaru » Wed Apr 12, 2006 11:49 am

Name: Hanoi Zo’klein (Self given clan name)
Race : Drowolath
Age : 98
Weapons : He has two very long whips that is entwined among his clothing (Explained in description) and a small throwing dagger hidden in each of his boots.
Magick: None
Beginning City : Val’Ravervan
Clan: Renegade (Born to a traveling merchant)
Background :

Hanoi born on a trip between Chel'el'sussoloth and Val’Ravervan to his merchant parents, one a slave and the other being a respected merchant, he was raised as a guard for the small caravan that delivered semi-rare foods and simple metal pieces between the two locations. Having been raised under the name of Koblait he quickly learned that silence was best as he was whipped when he spoke out, which had been often. His mother and father were killed in a raid that had occurred when he had ran from the caravan at the age of twenty three, he continued to wander between cities learning what he needed to survive by himself from different (ex)travellers.

During the many years of selling his service he had gained a minor reputation in the market and had made enough money to buy weapons and proper training with them, he ended up specializing with whips his teacher had given him the gift of the two whips he trained with, Han treasured those above everything else in his life.

Hanoi kept up his simple traveling between delivering things and scraping up enough to keep himself alive he quickly found himself selling his life to others doing defence on clan halls and for merchants in the marketplace, he had been on a delivery route, just after his seventy sixth birthday, that used small tunnels to make his way quicker when he had run into a cave in and was forced to take a long way round, he came across the ruins of the caravan that had been ransacked his past caught up with him as the scene of carnage seized his view.

Journal: Dead, all dead everyone and anyone. We will all die again they haunt me now for abandoning them, yes they do I will have them back indeed they are mine, my family I didn’t lose them they lost me it was their fault all theirs, they killed themselves yes that’s it t’was not I who slew them but the ones who follow me always following. (The journal continues on, into garbled ranting which is barely legible, about pains he will suffer.)

Han stayed at the wreckage sleeping near the broken down cart, he stayed there for days and was collected by the merchant who had hired him for the delivery came to find the package and possibly him, they found him sitting his knees by his chin a necklace that was under a piece of wood clenched in his fist.

After having been drugged and carried back he began to slowly repress what had happened wearing the necklace he had found again without memory of where he had obtained it he continued working as a mercenary for hire delivering items to others from one of those who had employed him he occasionally had flashbacks to the scenes he had witnessed now without the knowledge of what they meant he began to border insanity and gained a love for the sight of blood as he had begun to come up with scenarios as to how the remains of that caravan had been destroyed.

Over the next ten years the repression of his memory deepened and he near forgot who he was he quickly made enemies of those who did not understand him and those who believed him when he boasted the strength of the clan name he used, which had led to some confusion on his part when he had been attacked at times without warning.

Another three years past he began to actually believe that the name Zo’Klein was that of a real clan, he soon started to preach to himself the teachings he believed his father and mother would give, and began to imagine battles that had happened in defence of his clan, he imagined a final battle that showed him the eradication of his clan leaving him the final living member.

He soon began to store these fake memories telling himself that he was now to become a mercenary so that he could avenge and restart his clan, he began to hire himself out to people who needed defence against attacks instead of just another delivery worker, or those who needed someone to attack for them.

Han remains as a mercenary for hire and has recently been wandering near Val’Ravervan occasionally coming across the site in which his family was slaughtered, he stays there without thinking for days at a time before reluctantly leaving the spot in which he has forgotten the significance of.

Description :
Height: Five foot five
Weight : 164 pounds
Eye Colour : Light green.
Hair Colour : Short, white, two black streaks run down each side of his head, those on the front go over his eyes.

Stationary: He wears a simple red tunic and bottoms to match when not out travelling, one of the whips he carries hangs looped at his side.

Travelling: Han wears a simple form fitting black outfit which is covered in a series of complex spider silk coverings they are held together by the whips which are placed through a series of holes the whip handles rest by his hips a small section of each whip draping over his respective shoulder. There is a minor enchantment which brings the cloaks around him entwining the whips in, it is activated by stated the word he uses as a clan name.

General Appearance/Personality: Rarely in a correct mood Han is not very good at interacting with other Drow he tends to not speak as much using body language to express himself, when he does speak it is in a strict, cold, and to the point tone. Han does have several quirks to him the most major being his lack of attention to those he does not know, he also will occasionally regress into his memories and come across the scene of his family’s death with full knowledge of what happened. Once he comes to know another person he will begin to talk fluently with them, this also happens when he is drunk *beer*

Timezone: -6 GMT

If this is alright then hoorah if not I shall change any or everything at your command..... it's not as if I have anything better to do ^_^ I do look forwards to playing with you Starlit If I get approved that is.

Xian wrote:Satsoken: It would make me happy if you had many children, and all of them grew up to be as compliant and attentive to detail as you. All the required fields and a good, long history. Where did I put that stamp?

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Brenyne Fallaner by Brenyne

Postby kembaru » Thu Apr 13, 2006 8:25 am

Name: Brenyne Fallaner

Race: Half-Drowussu, Half-Drowolath

Age: 46

Weapons: A plain wooden staff worn across her back, held there by a single shoulder leather strap.

Magic: Healing.

Beginning city: Val’Raveran

Clan: None

Background: In the city of Chel'el'sussoloth a female Drowussu drow lived her life feeling none too distraught about the life she had. Her name was Vahira. She was a member of one of the lower houses of the Kyorl'solenurn clan. She had a fairytale romance which was concealed from those around them. It was with one of her personal servants, Kalthoz, a male Drow servant, a Drowolath. It continued for only a short time before Vahira realized she was, indeed, with child. And she was quite certain who the father was.

One day, a few months after she realized she was pregnant, one of her sisters approached her. Vahira had noticed herself being watched by this one lately, and she heard that she had been found out. That she was with child, and who the father was. Vahira tried to deny the accusations at first, but to no avail. She had been found out. The sister had seen Kalthoz departing her chambers some nights in a row. And now Vahira had a choice…relinquish her position of succession, to not a high place, that is to be sure, or to be ratted out.

Vahira attempted to do the first, but Kalthoz reasoned with her every chance he managed to find her alone. How could they raise a child who would be half of each race, half of each colour, and have the people not find out anyway?

Finally he got through to her, and they fled the city.

They went searched for a passage to the world above, thinking that could be their only safe haven of the trials which waited below if they returned. A small force pursued them in their flight for freedom, and Kalthoz was badly injured, thinking to sacrificing himself for the Vahira’s, and the unborn child’s, survival. The two continued to struggle to reach the world above, to find safety for their child.

They accomplished that, having lost their persuers on the way, but at a price. Kalthoz collapsed upon reaching the world above, and even Vahira soon passed out from exhaustion. Neither knew how long they slept, only that they were saved by people who, before that day, had not been known to them. Vahira knew what they were. She remembered distinctly opening her eyes and seeing the form of one. A Light Elf loomed over her, telling her to rest and reserve her strength. They were saved by people thought to be only legend, as free people. Stories were told of ones who were slaves underground, though Vahira had nver met one. This was a memory she would never forget. For when they awoke, a few days later they assumed, they were left in a meadow of some sort, with packs filled with food, blankets, tools, other necessities.

The two built a dwelling in the middle of nowhere, in the northern part of the world above. In the middle of a forest, tucked away, their own little sactuary. Kalthoz did the majority of the work building, and Vahira was quite far along with child.

Brenyne was born in that small house built by her father. She had a strange look to her, like her mother only darker. But she was a curious child. Years went by and they family remained where they were, living off the land around them, keeping to themselves. Her parents told her stories of the world below. Her favourite was the story of how she came to be born, though it both enticed and frightened her. Others had to do with families, or large events, or other places to live. Like Val’Raveran. Her father wished to move there, to raise their child in her own setting yet also where she would be accepted. Her mother had reservations, and her father understood them, but still it plagued his thoughts daily.

“Mother? Why do we not go now?â€
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Aeo'lanithica by Starlitdragon

Postby kembaru » Thu Apr 13, 2006 8:29 am

Name: Aeo’lanithica

Race: Drider (sentient)

Age: 34

Weapons: Brass knuckles, pet spider.

Magic: None. (Never learned to use it)

Beginning City: Val’Ravervan

Clan: Beldrobbaen


Aeo’anithica, youngest male born to the Hiver Mother, was a hopeless child on all counts. He could not tussle like his brothers and sisters, nor did he have any other skills evident to aid the survival of himself or his small colony of sentient driders. When he reached the age of twelve, the traditional period to choose his profession, his lack of skill at anything caused his mother to put her newborn up for adoption. When no family offered to take the useless thing in, his mother, exasperated, thrust upon him the unpleasant work of a Gatherer, rather than leaving a body behind for the tikitikis to chew.

A Gatherer had a simple task: pick mushrooms for the family’s consumption. The tricky part was where the mushrooms grew. The De’ophinna family’s mushrooms flourished on carefully cultivated dung fields several miles away. Everyday, Aeo would rise before the rest of his lazy family, and stumble his way in the unforgiving underworld to the dung fields. His sensitive nose suffered greatly in the next three years to come. Aeo could never figure out where so much dung came from! He came back home, laden with heavy cloth sacks of mushrooms every night, just after supper had finished. Poor Aeo’anithica’s diet consisted mostly of raw mushrooms, which he detested. The young Drider learned early on life was no picnic in a posy dung field.

On one of such mushroom jaunts, Aeo decided to take a break. It was a common occurrence- Aeo was a chubby Drider, incapable of much physical activity outside of walking. By pure misfortune, he blundered into a Streekaider.

The Streekaider advanced on him, hissing delightedly. The fortunes had delivered him a plump, smaller version of himself! All might have ended there, if Aeo did not open his large mouth.

“H-hello Streekaider-san.â€
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Jailu/Phylia by Izz'la'mar

Postby kembaru » Thu Apr 13, 2006 8:33 am

Name: Jailu/Phylia

Race: Ver'Drowendar (Drowolath)

Age: 35

Weapons: Short sword

Magic: Water sorcery

Beginning City: Chel'el'sussuloth

Clan: Vel'Sharen

Jailu was a quite ordinary common girl from a hardly spectacular background. Her parents were rather poor merchants who barely scratched ada enough to buy food to eat and often went without meals themselves to feed their daughter. Despite her rather humble life and often painful stomach she enjoyed her life. Pay your respects to the nobles so you avoid their wrath and indignance, don't get caught stealing from the merchant stalls, help your parents around a little and your life was your own to run, to play and do as you please with your friends.

Her carefree existence would soon end though when a noble from the Sharen saw her and her friends playing one of their favourite games. Her and her friends loved running fountains in the market area, the idea of the game was to avoid the spurts of water was you ran through the pool, many a young girl and boy among them was soaked in this challenging game. The Sharen noble took a moment to watch the game while browsing a dye store she was at, she hadn't noticed the fountain before but then again since when did you end up in the same area twice in the market? It seemed the children had not done too well in this round and all of them got soaked more or less and they were planning their final run through before they all went home to dry off. One by one they all ran one after the other through the spurts until it was Jailu's turn she dashed until a spurt caught her off guard. She ground to a halt, eyes clenched tightly shut and arms raised over her face. She didn't get wet though and when she opened her eyes the spurt had subsided and she carried on running. The noble however was rather amazed, she had seen the jet of water bend off away from her.

"Girl! Come her NOW!"

Jailu cringed at the shout and turned to the voice looked horrified and fearful. Why was this noble calling her?

"I shall give you 10 ada if you can run through that fountain again without getting wet."

Jailu's jaw dropped, she didn't think even her parents had ever seen so much money! She immediately grinned and ran off toward the fountain. She danced into the fountain and sure enough once or twice the jets bent away from her as she reached the other side though a sudden jet caught her unaware. She was mortified, all that money... gone, she could almost have cried but the noble smiled.

"Girl, I shall give you 5 ada for your failure if you promise to meet me tomorrow and tell me your name."

"Jailu, your highness." The young girl beamed.

She smiled at her who over stated her station. "Very well Jailu, you shall meet me near the Sharen stronghold with your parents and you shall have your 5 ada."

The next day when the three of them went to meet the Sharen noble she was not alone. At her side were a few large Sharen guards at her side and another noble woman. Jailu's parents wavered, had her daughter done something wrong and this had been a trick to get them their to punish them? It was too late though and they had been seen.

"Commoners, this is my mother, we have a proposition for you." The noble who had met Jailu said. "We wish to adopt your daughter into our family as a twin to one of our own, we can provide her with a life and riches you couldn't dream of and we shall also reward you well for this."

Her parents were stunned. What was so special about their daughter as for her to be adopted, by nobles no less! They discussed it but ultimately the life they could provide their daughter made them come to the decision that it would be what was best for her. Her parents were given a sum of ada for their child and the deal was done, Jailu was now the protector twin to a Sharen girl called Phylia.

Her life with the Sharen was far from happy though. Due to the fact she was adopted to replace a previous twin, who Phylia was close to, their relationship was never easy despite the family being far from the bloodline maniacs that you typically got in the Vel'Sharen clan. It took a long while for them to become civil toward each other and they never became close as Phylia was with her previous twin. Her siblings bullied and taunted her while she was at home and the other students who were to become Yathrines picked on her too, Phylia never seemed concerned about this she'd always tell her to toughen up so that she would become useful to the clan. She had few friends at the school due to her treatment and weakness, she became quite withdrawn and often the only person she would have any conversation with was Phylia. At the school she was taught of course how to be a Yathrine but also taught somewhat on her natural abilities so that they didn't go to waste.

Her twinship with Phylia ended however when Phylia picked a fight with the wrong group of children at the school and they attacked her en masse by surprise when it was just her and Jailu. Phylia died that day and Jailu bearly survived the attack. She was pulled out of school that day to her family's home to recover and decide what was best. Her twin was dead but she had survived and more than likely wouldn't survive long if sent back into the arms of her fellow students. They just didn't know what to do with her, some said that she should be sent back when recovered if she survived then she would be worthy of Phylia's name others said to preserve what they had and give her Phylia's name and position now and tutor her at their home. The decision was put off until her recovery. All through this time she was filled with guilt at her failure and withdrew even more into herself.

Before her judgement came her older brother, the main one who had bullied her before, due in part to his especial fondness of the previous twin decided that she wasn't to be given the chance to take Phylia's and position. He came to her knife drawn and intentions quite clear, he saw no trouble in taking out this weak little thing. When he advanced on her she panicked and used her water sorcery to send a large amount of water at his face and hold it there from a nearby vase intent on blinding him. He in turn panicked and eventually passed out on the floor. Fearing she had drown him she ran out of the door and hid. She was eventually found and brought before her mother, there also was her brother looking quite ashamed and rather scorned by those around him.

"I thought he was dead! I only meant to blind him! Really!"

Her mother replied cooly, "He should be but for your flight, you dropped your spell lucky for him."

She didn't know what to say, she just stood there amazed.

"You defeated your brother her, whether you killed him or not." She gave him a scornful look, one by this cringe and downward gaze he had received many times before today for being defeated by his younger sister. "To me you have proven yourself strong enough to take Phylia's name, he proved that whether he intended to or not. Wear a hair extension if you leave the residence until your hair has grown and forget the name Jailu."

She still stood there shocked but happy. "What about my schooling?"

"You shall be tutored at home now with studies more directly attuned to your abilities. You are free to leave."

Since that day she was taught by one of her older sisters how to better her ability with water sorcery, learning to manipulate and control the element in her spells and even freeze it with a bit of effort. Those of her family who disagreed of the decision stayed quiet and never bothered her, even the brother who tried to kill her is civil towards her, even a little polite after his tainting, she put this down to either extra obedience or just lack of feelings. She was tainted too when she came of the age when her mother decided that this should be done. Small amounts of guilt remain over her twin's death but she has forgiven herself a little over the time since it happened. Her undermined confidence slowly crept back as her abilities increased and she applied herself to bettering herself so that she might prove herself truly worthy of the name she has.

In her zeal toward bettering the source of her pride, her sorcery, she has somewhat neglected her short sword technique in favour of trying to better herself magically, this is to her deficit. She ties quite a lot of her self-confidence up in her sorcery and a defeat could quite possibly fill her with self-doubt and possibly self-loathing too, especially since she has little to fall back on in terms of swordplay. Despite this flaw she has no plans to sharpen her skills in close combat because of her somewhat over-confident take on her abilities, always putting off the boring task and uninteresting task of practice. Many think a defeat or two would teach her something if it doesn't kill her. Aside from this pride she is quiet (for a typical noble) yet driven and takes no relish in asserting her authority over the commoners unless its necessary. She is generally left to do her own thing for the very reason of her motivated attitude when it comes to bettering herself and also the fact she's trusted not to be stupid and disgrace herself (and family) or get herself killed.

Description: Phylia has the bright red eyes that all tainted drow have and has white hair with the bottom dyed blue-green. She likes to wear black or dark blue but is usually seen in a black dress lined blue-green which splits down the side from the waist down. She also normally wears a blue-green trimmed cloak with a high collar. The mid-rift of her dress is marked by eight jewels encircling a central one all in a deep sapphire. She has the sheath for her short sword at her left hand side underneath the cloak.

Posts: 1 a day I can hope, possibly becoming more later
Timezoning: Erm... officially GMT but acts far more like GMT -5 to 7

Xian wrote:Izz'la'mar: Despite the fact that I just chewed him out, I completely agree with Jer'tai's opinion. This post is flawless, and I absolutely love the detail that you put into your background, especially the stuff relating to Jailu's youth. Very, very well done. I have the stamp.

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Lanthus Talandrel Illhar'dro by Xian

Postby kembaru » Thu Apr 13, 2006 8:47 am

Name: Lanthus Talandrel Illhar’dro

Race: Drowolath.

Age: 97

Weapons: Lanthus’ only weapon, “Bladesong,â€
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Desmonde by Kite

Postby kembaru » Thu Apr 13, 2006 8:51 am

Name: Desmonde
Race: Drowussu
Age: 239
Magic: Empathy - Specific to deducing the actions and thoughts of others.
Beginning City: Val'Raveran
Clan: Kyorl'solenurn
A suit of light plate and mail (black), along with a folding visor
- The light plate and visor are both decorated with a single 'holy eye' upon its crest.
A two-handed lance with a notch right after the blade
Under all that plate, she's wearing a purple dress. :p
- The lioncloth of her dress is decorated with her division's insignia.
The tiara she wears on her head under that visor has 3 gemstones set into it.
50 ada -- What is she going to buy, anyway? :p
Inside a concealed pack: A log book/diary, pen, 2 gemstones, a ragged templar doll (hey, it has sentimental value!), a couple pictures of friends and family, a basic first-aid kit of bandages, asprin-like herb, and balm.
Other than that, she'll carry an appropriate ration of food of drink for the journey.

Desmonde was born from parents who, while happy, were often quite fanatical about their duties and thus had very little time to spend with their children. The little girl needed a guardian and tutor until she was old enough to attend school, and that duty was picked up by her older brother, Keisuke.

The best memories Desmonde has of her brother was during those first ten years of her life, growing and learning under his wing. Thankfully Keisuke wasn't raising her alone-- his mate, Ai'youn, served as a surrogate mother to Desmonde. Ai'youn wanted a daughter, Desmonde wanted a mother-- things were, simply put, 'good'.

This family relationship continued into her schooling, which is what they wanted-- a place for her to return home to.

In school, she was noted for being a part of a line of empaths, and was tested for this as soon as she was capable. Once her empathy was proven, she was started on a road of classes which, over the years, would teach her how to effectively use her talent. Especially for their religious causes. Desmonde was assigned these rigorous training classes retroactively with her normal schooling, the talent not reaching its real potential until after many years of supervision and experience.

Desmonde's choice of the lance was something she did not hesitate on. All of those bed-time stories Keisuke used to read to her filled her head with romantic fantasies; noble drowussu knights slaying great and terrible demons, rescuing the innocent and judging the sinners-- that and her particularly favorite story hero wielded that coveted, pointed weapon. It was here, in weapons training, that she met her first partner; a young male templar in training.

Years have passed and Desmonde and her partner, both who used to be inseperable, now do not wish to be in the presence of each other. He wants more out of the relationship, and Desmonde ignores his advances. Degrading rumors begin to spread about Desmonde and her personal life, and rejection begins to settle in, her empathy making it all the more unbearable. Not wishing to fall into dispair, she put even more of her time into her studies and training, shutting away her troubles by giving herself no time to think about it; drowning herself in schoolwork and tutoring, stepping away from wardenship. She became an obsessive writer since then-- at least in her diary, where all her personal thoughts are safely kept from prying eyes.

Despite her devotion in school, her teachers saw that her reclusive behavior was unhealthy for a drowussu, and searched for their potential warden another companion. They found Athanmir, a talented templar of a promising family, and assigned him to her. At Athanmir's encouragement, she stepped away from tutoring and resumed her warden training with more dedication than before.

Even after graduation, she still buries herself with work, leaving the warden and templar pair with a very active career over the next two centuries. During this time, Desmonde has taken a handful of potential templars under the wing of her and her partner, which satisfied in some part her desire to teach. While each new addition to her squad left an impression on her in some way, the most recent hopeful she has taken an unusual preference to-- Calanrius, a lightweight in comparison to Athanmir, she holds high expectations from.

When the news of her brother's betrayal and execution came to the ears of Desmonde and her peers, the warden's reputation and honor suffered somewhat in their eyes. She has worked hard, since then, to restore her family's dignity with her steady dedication to the clan. That this effects the moral of her squad or not, she took delicate care not to see happen-- like several other points of her life, she simply does not discuss openly. One could say that, by this point, her written diaries could easily fill a small library-- and it does, in a small, secluded corner of her room stacked full inside a bookshelf, marked rather insconspicuously as religous sermons that no one cares to read.

Recently, Athanmir left on a personal mission to locate a missing friend of his, leaving Desmonde again without a companion and relieved of active duty for a time. Desmonde decided to take this opportunity to see the wonders of the underworld as its curious inhabitant, taking a liking to caravan travel as they treked across the cavernous continent. In her expeditions, she befriended a company of Illhar'dro from Raveran, and more specifically one of its members, Lanthus Talandrel Illhar’dro. She stayed behind in Raveran after a healthy number of adventures with the Illhar'dro bladesong, taking the time to close personal matters before preparing for her next extensive journey.

Description: Desmonde sketchy.

Height: About average height for a drowussu female. Her body is of a frail nature, however.
Hair color: Her hair is a solid navy blue, and she prefers to keep it up in a ponytail so that it does not get in her way (rarely do those see her with her hair down-- she takes great care of it).
Eye color: Desmonde's eyes are a dark green.
Weight: Being of average hieght, she is also of normal weight.

Time Zone/Activity: -8 GMT If I am not on, I am sleeping.

Xian wrote:Kite: You're a natural at this.


I haven't used that stamp in way too long.
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Solufien Losian Riht'wis by Solufien

Postby kembaru » Thu Apr 13, 2006 9:14 am

Name: Solufien Losian Riht'wis
Race: Drowussu
Age: 43
Gender: Male
Clan: Former Kyorl'Solenurn
Beginning City: Val'Raveran
Weapons: Steel long sword 'Justicar', steel large shield.
Equipment: Steel plate mail with white garments & hood, 100 ada, anti-venom potions, and bandages.
Magic: Earth High Art
Abilities: Basic cooking, 1st Aid, Diplomacy, 'Sword & Shield' style fighting.
Occupation: Mercenary

Background: Solufien was once a promising young templar of the Riht'wis sub-family in the Kyorl'Solenurn clan. His family had a tradition of producing clear-headed and pious servants that served the Holy Eye and the clan well, whether they are wardens or templars. He was the first child born to both his mother, Warden Elis Riht'wis; and his father, Malus Firehand, who (to his eternal shame) was forced by his lack of physical strength to become of the few faern that served the Kyorl'Solenurn.

The circumstance of the birth was nothing out of the ordinary. His parents had been raised together, so it was no real surprise that they became mates when they were in their 50's. As the first child of both his parents, he was raised by his real family like a commoner. Because of this, he was given the parental love only a mother can give; something that rarely occurs among the nobles. They didn't spoil him, but they treated him with fairness, respect and kindness; and prepared him for the coming trials that were to come as best they could.

He started his templar training at ten, like most templar hopefuls. This included a chosen style of fighting, a chosen style of magic, basic cooking, first aid, and various other skills that would serve him in the future. His father also taught him the skills of the diplomat, as he knew that there are alternatives to fighting; and he also taught him some of the high art which the other templar hopefuls weren’t privy to. He wasn't legendary, but he usually passed any test given with flying colours none the less. But by his 30th birthday, he felt something was wrong. It didn't seem right to him that every person that had the daemon taint must be killed on sight, regardless of who the person was or how they felt about the daemon inside of them. Yes, he believed that daemons were the source of all evil in the world; he worshipped Sharess in the aspect in the Holy Eye; and that the Kyorl'Solenurn were the last hope remaining for the drow. But when he summoned the courage to confront his parents & masters about his doubts, for the most part they replied with lectures; saying that he was the one that had to change. After his mother warned him that any words like that could lead to his death or worse, he swore never to speak of his feelings to his kin. Despite this, he never lost the sense of compassion his parents had unknowingly given him.

Solufien's moment of truth came the day after he turned 40, the day all templar hopefuls had the final test. He would either become a fully-fledged Yathalaer, or die trying. He was tested on his physical skills, his mental skills, magic skills, diplomacy, clan knowledge, and spirituality. He had passed every aspects of the test without a hitch, up to the last one. His last task was to kill the tainted before him, supposedly saving her from the daemon within. His heart cried for pity & mercy, but his head knew there was no other way. So he looked into the eyes of the girl, unsheathed his sword, and tearfully prayed.

“We pray for the souls ensnared by the daemons.
We pray that you lead us not to temptation, but unto deliverance.
We pray that you shall return to us in the flesh, so you can show us the true way.
Most of all, we pray that we, your ever faithful Kyorl, will never be apart.â€
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Siyamak Xilimin by Incubision

Postby kembaru » Thu Apr 13, 2006 9:21 am

Name: Siyamak Xilimin

Race: Drowolath

Age: 57

Family Rapier- A silver long bladed rapier. The hilt is particularly ornate, eight lines extending from the base of the sword to the bottom of the hilt in a weaving pattern, room left in the back for the hand to enter in. The collection of bars guards the rest of the hand on the outside, allowing him to use it as block for other swords if he has no other choice. The most noticeable feature is that the bars softly merge together at the bottom to create four equally sized and make an X with a detailed carving of an eye at the center. The only other noticeable feature about it is the fact that its red sheath has a long arm reaching down to the bottom with a long pair of lines running down near the edges of the arm from the shoulder to the wrist. A large black dot is in the very center, an old protection ward personal to the family.

Dagger- A simple dagger for close combat, there’s nothing particularly amazing or spectacular about it.

Magic: Empathy (Emotion reading and suggestion)

Beginning city: Chel'el'sussoloth

Clan: None

Background: Siyamak came from a long line of ‘free-lance empaths’. Most acted as something similar to truth-sayers for nobles, investigators, and a few tax collectors. Though they were not perfect they could catch the liars weren’t best and were trained to pick up on inconsistencies. Their empathy wasn’t their main tool even in those strong with it but rather it helped their own observations. The family began to internally cultivate its empathy skills, mothers and fathers teaching their children what they knew. They even began to incorporate more scholarly wisdom into their teachings and the family line gained some recognition.

The family line also evolved in what it did. They began to further help investigators and court cases as they could start to detect what emotions were motivating an action. As they gained a little more recognition for this family learned talent, darker elements began to use them to sway others against someone using an empath who could ‘read a fae’s mind flawlessly’.

From these said darker elements ‘puppetry’ was introduced into the family’s talents. They learned not just what emotions motivated actions, but with longer observation they could see what reactions in general would come from specific emotions in a person and what could stir these emotions. Their empathy skill came to the forefront, but was still just a compliment to their family taught abilities to see signs in a person and to play them like an instrument. This puppetry was used mainly to aid them though, such as invoking paranoia in a person so that they would extend the jobs the family was given and in turn draw in more income easily. They could even cause situations that would require their services.

The family became something of its own internal organization; each family member could call upon another to help them manipulate a situation in their favor. The family grew close and fostered family pride as they rose up in social status. From just a little above commoners, they reached a point where they could afford to send their children to Othorbae more often. This held two purposes for the family. First, this allowed them to incorporate more than family learned knowledge into their private teachings and second, this allowed them to draw in other empaths into the family line by using the bonds that school can cause between children.

Finally the family cultivated a method of raising its children. Children were given one name as a child, an impersonal designation and another when they either completed their family training or were sent off to school. They were then essentially pitted against their siblings, vying to see which child would gain the private tutoring of their parent, which ones would be sent to school to drawn in knowledge, and which ones would either be played as tools or sometimes sold into slavery. Murders in the family became more common as the children grew accustomed to the intense rivalry.

Siyamak was born into this family, designated at the time as “Dark Eyesâ€
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Vaen'alnoch Beldrobbaen by Grfu

Postby kembaru » Thu Apr 13, 2006 9:26 am

Name: Vaen’alnoch Beldrobbaen

Race: Drowolath

Age: Fourth Generation, 48 (looks around 20)

Long sword with extended hilt for use with one or two hands (sword has clan symbol on pommel), the sword’s scabbard is black leather and worn at the belt, belt knife
Armor and clothing:
When armored: supple steel chain mail shirt (short sleeves), steel plated pauldrons, (right hand) leather gauntlet plated with adamantine with ridges on the knuckles and a blue gem on the back of hand (decorative), (left hand) leather gauntlet with fingertips cut off and steel studs and a blue gem (decorative) on the back of hand, just plain black pants and soft-soled leather boots, black hooded cloak
When unarmored: black short-sleeved shirt, black baggy pants, aforementioned gauntlets and boots, black hooded cloak
Miscellaneous gear:
Around the city: Black messenger bag contains an ada pouch containing 100 ada, flask containing hard liquor (imported rum from the surface), journal, poetry book (drow equivalent of Poe), textbook on shadow sorcery, small hand towel, silver flute in hard leather case
In the wilderness: Black messenger bag contains an ada pouch containing 100 ada, water canteen, liquor flask, journal, basic first aid kit. Vaen also carries a bedroll
Approximately 1,500 ada stashed away in his chambers at Beldrobbaen fortress

Magic: basic shadow control

Beginning City: Chel’el’sussoloth

Clan: Vel’Beldrobbaen


Vaen’alnoch was born as the second son of Masendriea Val’Beldrobbaen, a Beldrobbaen ambassador. He was raised by the younger of his two sisters and given his guardian spider, Kelna, when he was six years old. During his childhood, he had a passion for poetry and music. During his meager amount of free time under the tutelage of his sister, he could be found in his chamber playing a small flute given to him by the older of his two sisters. His passion for poetry was no less powerful. He constantly sought out new poetry books from the Beldrobbaen library. His sister was a harsh mistress but fair. He learned a great deal from her lessons. He learned the basics of the long sword and showed some basic skill with shadow sorcery. Seeing this fighting skill in her son, Masendria had a special long sword made for him that could be used with one hand or two.

Vaen always showed a voracious thirst for knowledge, and the school of Orthobae proved to satisfy that thirst quite well. Over the years at Orthorbbae, Vaen learned to master the use of his long sword with some measure of skill. He would never reach the skill level of his classmates from the Val’Sarghress clan, but he could hold his own in combat. Aside from combat training and basic subjects such as mathematics and chemistry, Vaen also learned the fundamentals of shadow sorcery. Being a practical joker of sorts, Vaen would sometimes practice his shadow sorcery by playing pranks on his fellow student. He would occasionally fade into a shadow and scare the willies out the next student to pass by the shadow.

As he will say himself, his years attending Orthorbbae were the best years of his life. He had no worries other than the next lesson. He didn’t have to worry. He was at peace with himself. However, it was not to last. Shortly after his graduation, the disaster struck the academy. Many of the clan’s young girls were killed or tainted. He was forced to watch his own sisters, his former mentors, transform into tainted shells of their former selves. He was forced to watch his own mother lock herself away in solitude, and although he held a great amount of concern for her, there was little he, a mere male, could do to help her. He felt so powerless. He soon sank into a depression and spent hours in his chambers playing lamenting tunes on his flute, only emerging for meals and further combat training.

Shortly after the incident at Orthorbbae, Vaen was on one of his rare excursions into the city. He was with two of his older, female cousins at the time, mostly to carry their purchases. At first it seemed like a routine trip to purchase new clothes. Unfortunately, fate did not smile upon the trio. While passing through a less populated are of the city, they encountered a Drowussu patrol. Both of his cousins were killed outright by the callous grey skins. Vaen fought valiantly to protect them, but it was to no avail. The Drowussu templars were much stronger and had skills and experience that greatly outmatched his own. They easily overcame him. Vaen did not know why they spared him. It might have been that he was not tainted. It might have been that he was still just a boy in their eyes. They left him there, bloody and broken. They left him there to live with his shame. They should have killed him when they had the chance.

Vaen limped back to the Beldrobbaen fortress and swore an oath that day. With Kelna as his witness, he swore that the Drowussu would pay dearly for the Beldrobbaen lives they have taken. They would pay dearly for the shame they have given him. They would pay, or he would die making them pay.

This caused a drastic change in Vaen’s attitude. He was consumed by his constant rage, spending hours in the Beldrobbaen practice gym sparring with fellow warriors or simply tearing apart golems. The only thing that calmed him was the news that his mother had finally emerged from her chambers. Vaen finally knew joy again, but his experiences had left him forever changed. No longer would he be the care-free prankster of the academy. He was now cold and grim, not traits that should be associated with one so young.

Vaen now has command of a small contingent (roughly 30 warriors) of the Beldrobbaen army. He sees this as a ceremonial role more than an actual command. As a consequence, he usually leaves his warriors under the command of his second in command, his most trusted cousin Hel’naar. This allows him a certain measure of freedom, but he will always take command of his unit in times of war and in defense of the clan.

Personality, Religious, and Political views
Vaen maintains a grim persona to the casual observer, but he still retains a small shred of his former self. Beneath his cold exterior he is still the practical joker that he was in his youth. He will still play pranks on the few friends he still has.
Vaen continues to practice the old religion of his clan, though he could hardly be called a fanatic.
Vaen’s loyalties are to his mother and clan. He will serve them without question. Of the Drowussu (filthy grey-skins, as he calls them), he feels only hatred and rage. He is reluctant to even speak to a Drowussu, let alone make deals with them. He is distrustful of the Vloz’ress, seeing them as diluted lunatics. Of the other clans, he shows neutrality and will have open dealings if his mother approves.

Vaen is approximately 1.6 meters in height with the athletic build of a warrior who takes care of himself. His hair is shoulder-length and white with dark blue and black streaks. He keeps his hair tied back with a black leather strap to keep his eyes clear.
His eyes are green like his mother’s.
Vaen has a spider web pattern tattooed in white running down his right arm from shoulder to hand. He wears six obsidian earrings on his right ear.
Vaen wears black baggy pants and a loose short-sleeved black shirt. He wears his gauntlets constantly and carries both his sword and messenger bag. The black hooded cloak he wears is black on the outside and black with white spider web pattern on the inside. He carries his guardian spider, Kelna, on his back.
His belt is black leather with a plain buckle.

Xian wrote:grfu: Very impressive. About those warriors; I'd prefer that they never actually see the light of day in the FFRPG, so to speak (light of day in the underworld isn't really an expression). However,


Very nice background. Nice that you connected yourself to Maesendria as well (providing you have permission. :P).
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Ssussun by Glyph

Postby kembaru » Thu Apr 13, 2006 9:33 am

Name: Ssussun
Race: Light Elf
Gender: Female
Age: 67 (appears in her early 30’s)

Only a plain slave collar, white blouse and pants.

Light sorcery. She has the ability to create elaborate, but very obvious illusions around her. From simple sparkling lights to small animated images. Everything she creates is visual only and has no sound and is transparent. Her range is only ten feet or so for her illusions.

Beginning city:


Ssussun (not her birth name) was born in a small community of light elves on the surface, where she was raised by a warm and caring family. As the only daughter of her parents she got all of their attention and love as she was growing up. It was soon discovered that she had a talent for light sorceries and could create dancing lights and small illusions at a very early age. This lead to her parents encouraging her to develop the talent to create shows with her ability to make illusions. Life was fairly carefree and happy for Ssussun for the first thirty or so years of her life. The few elven mages in the community kept the humans and orcs away so they could live in peace by themselves.

When Ssussun was 32 the village was attacked by a drow raiding party. The raiders were driven off by the mages, but not before they killed several of the light elves and captured a handful more to bring back as slaves. Ssussun was one of the ones so captured and soon she disappeared into the darkness underground. The trip back to Chel’el’sussoloth took many weeks and the captives were not treated very well. Only Ssussun and one other survived the journy because the others had been wounded in the fight and couldn’t take the endless darkness and despair. Both surviviors spent the entire trip gagged and blindfolded to keep them from knowing the path they had taken from the surface to the drow city. Once there they were brought to the slave market and Ssussun sold quickly to a minor noble of the Val’Sharen clan.

Over a period of five yers she was abused and tortured in many ways. For the first two years to break her still strong spirit and ‘teach’ her to be a proper obediant slave. For the next three years she was used as a visual aid for the noble to teach her child and her child’s twin how to properly discipline and break slaves. This treatment as a child’s teaching aid eventually brainwashed her and she came to view the drow as superior to her own. For these years she was kept in an unlit cell and brought out only for her ‘duties’ as a demonstration slave. This treatment led to her going blind as the endless darkness of her cell weakened her eyes and the brief visits out into the relatively bright light only served to damage her vision until she could no longer see. Her illusions not being bright enough to keep her eyes used to light, and the constant torment not giving her enough strength to keep illusions around very long in her free time in the small cell. The gradual process allowing her to adapt and develop her hearing to try and even things out. Once her mistress noticed she was blind it was decided that Ssussun was no longer worth keeping around and she was sent back to the slave market. Even blind and scarred in easily hidden places a light elf still was a valuable resource, especially one so obediant as Ssussun was at that point.

This time Ssussen was bought by a young daughter hoping to find a present for her mother. However her new buyer was tricked and did not realize her new slave was blind until she had paid. Not wanting to have the purchase go to waste she invested some money and sent her new light elf to a school for pleasure slaves for ten years. There Ssussun learned not only the basics in how to give pleasure, but how to sing and dance as well. The light elf developing a beautiful singing voice and a very exotic style of dancing combining what she learned at the school and what she vaguely remembered from the light elf dances from her life on the surface. Compared to the torment she had gotten used to even this strict place seemed like heaven. During her stay at the school she refined her hearing and learned to use all of her senses in place of the sight that she was already starting to forget she ever had. She took to wearing a blindfold with the symbol of her owner’s clan on it so that people wouldn’t be caught off-guard by her pale unmoving eyes.

At the end of that ten year period of learning all she could about being a proper pleasure slave she was retreved by the drow that had purchased her and finally presented to that drow’s mother as a present. Her new mistress was a non-noble member of the Sullissinrune clan and was very happy to recieve the well-trained slave. For two decades she served this mistress. Sometimes using her skill in giving pleasure, but more often her talents as a singer and dancer to entertain the parties that her mistress was host to. If her efforts pleased her mistress she was rewarded with free time. If they did not she was punished harshly. It was during this time she refined her abilties and started to use her magic in combination with her dance and song skills, her performances becoming a rare treat of physical motions, gentle song, and fluttering illusions. Her abilities gained her mistress much influence among the lower ranks of the clan and as a reward she was allowed to grow her hair out to show how favored she was.

Ssussun did best she could and even got to know a few of the other slaves and children. Some friendships letting her learn a bit more about the drow and their culture. The warmth of friends letting her build a little more of her broken spirit back up. She also learned how to cook and clean as ways to pass the time when none of her other specialties were in demand. She never really got very good at cooking, but could put together edible meals when commanded to. She got her name from this period in her life, the drow that owned her thought naming a blind light elf who could create illusions after the drow word for light very amusing.

Ssussun left her mistress quite abrubtly, or more accurately her mistress left her. In one of the many skirmishes between the clans an assassin killed her mistress while trying to escape from an unsuccessful attempt on one of the nobles in the clan. The daughter that inherited all of her mother’s things had no taste for her talents and she was sent back to the slave markets along with a number of other slaves. Now she waits for a new master or mistress and hopes that her recent good luck is not about to run out and give her another abusive owner like the first one she had experienced.

Height: 6’2"
Weight: 174lbs.

She is a nicely curved female light elf made even more pale then natural from her years spent down here in the darkness. Bright golden blond hair of about shoulder length pulled into a ponytail. She has a calm expression on her face as if she has seen it all and most of it doesn’t surprise her anymore. Her eyes are always covered by a thick blindfold to hide the sightless and ruined state of her eyes. Yet she seems to brighten up when talking as if conversation was a happy alternative to what one might decide to do with her.

Ssussun always tries to be quiet and obediant, even with drow other then her owner (whomever that is) and is polite even to commoners. She can be a little hesitant sometimes when not following orders because she is worried she might do something to offend her owner or another high-ranking drow.

Time Zone/Activity:
Mountain Standard Time (GMT –6 forum time), but often on at odds hours of the night.[/b]

Character Status: Retired.

Xian wrote:Glyph: Solid. I have nothing more to say.

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Nyrath by Nyrath (creative, eh?)

Postby kembaru » Thu Apr 13, 2006 9:37 am

Name: Nyrath

Race: Drowolath

Age: 109 (fourth generation)
Height: 6’3 (190,12 cm)
Weight: 263 lbs. (119,402 kg)
Weapons: Steel staff with slot at one end for possible adaptations.
A finely made steel dagger which can be attached to the staff as a spearhead.
A steel dagger which seems to have seen considerable use (this has major sentimental value to him as it is one of the first weapons he ever forged)
A two foot long curved blade (think naginata head) with a handle that consists of an inner core and a removable sheet, without the outer sheet it can be fitted to the staff.
Armour and clothing: A set of scale mail that covers his front and back, the shoulders and stops above the knee. Each scale has been acid etched so it bears a mark, the most common is spiders.
Steel greaves with a web pattern on them.
Steel armoured gauntlets (can be used as weapons if need be)
Chain mail sleeves.
Long sleeved spider silk tunic.
Thick spider silk cloak with several pockets.
Spider silk trousers.
A pair of snakeskin boots.
A steel neckguard (could be mistaken for slave collar at a distance) that is also covered in etched marks, but is also decorated with gold thread inlays (gold is cheap down here).
Steel helmet
(All of his steel equipment is extremely well made as he and his family are weapon and armour smiths)
Miscellaneous: Backpack
Five gems that he keeps charged with mana just in case he needs it
50 feet of spidersilk rope (light and strong, in backpack)
Smiths goggles (Protects from strong light)
Some cleaning rags
A whetstone
20 ada in a neck pounce
200 ada secured in his backpack
Small healing kit in backpack, some bandages, some alcohol to wash wounds and such.
A pair of smiths tongs, and a small hammer
Magic: Basic energy, not particularly good at it, does have a slight affinity for light
Beginning city: Val'Raveran

Clan: none but has contacts within most of them through his family’s business

Background: Born in Chel’el’sussoloth into a rather extended family, Nyrath never knew who his father was. His mother Tra’aiste worked as an armour smith and his aunt Shira’thae as a weapon smith. The third member of his close family that he grew up with was his uncle Yratha’ien. Nothing noteworthy happened during his first 10 years of life. Then when he was old enough he began to help in the smithy as well as actually learning something about working in a forge.

Yratha’ien was the oldest of the siblings and the only one who didn’t spend long ours shaping metal. No, he spent most of his time socializing, philosophising and training his mind and body. He was a fairly skilled mage, but he never studied the high arts, instead he dedicated himself to mastering the most basic of tricks. But if he was forced to fight his primary weapon was the staff, since he knew that many battles are fought over misunderstandings and that you need only disable an opponent to win a fight.

When he was 15 Yratha’ien began teaching him how to defend himself. At the age of 19 he knew the basics of most weapons and had chosen to emulate his uncle’s prowess with the staff. As he worked in the forge he quite naturally began to develop a fairly impressive musculature for his age. At the age of 23 he was doing some smiths work of his own including the dagger he still carries.

At this time he also began to learn something about acid etching from his aunt who regularly used it on some part of her work. He showed an interest in anything which related to his craft, and as his uncle travelled from time to time, he eventually met his third aunt Istelia’ate (extended family indeed) who usually resided in Val’Reveran. She worked as a whitesmith (one who works with precious metals) and so he came to learn at least something of this as well, at least enough that he could incorporate it into his other work.

When he was 34 he became acquainted to one of the Vlosress named Xara’anich who for some reason needed an unusual amount of metal work. As Nyrath worked he listened to Xara as he talked about, well a lot of things but when he mentioned the Vlosress stance towards demons Nyrath became interested and asked to hear more of it. Over the next couple of days he learned a lot about their philosophy and decided to learn what he could of the different philosophies of the clans. Val’Sarghress was fairly easy to learn as any warrior knows the need for quality weaponry. It took until he turned 43 for him to learn the Beldrobbaen philosophy from an actual clan member. Now he began to mould these different ways of thinking into his own personal one.

When he was about 45 he had developed the basis of his own philosophy. An important part of this was that he treated everyone with respect until they proved that they did not warrant it. This differed quite a lot from the usual way of thinking that one had to earn someone’s respect. He only sometimes questions someone’s philosophy or way of thought, but often seeks to learn what it is. He shows great respect for spiders and won’t eat any parts of a spider unless it’s that or starvation.

When he was 46 his mother gave birth to a daughter Thias’alrea whom he soon took a liking to. As his sister grew up he himself began to feel wanderlust in him, but he decided that he would not set out until his sister had grown up. As the years passed he met more of his relatives and continued improving on his craftsmanship and his staff technique, he also took up running at this time because he figured that endurance would be useful if he where to travel a lot later on. At the time he was 73 he began working on the rest of his current outfit, opting for scale mail instead of plate as he knew he might have to out run his foes, and it would be easier to repair. As he turned 78 he considered the decision he made decades ago and decided to leave.

He has spent the last 31 years wandering randomly and meeting relatives. Working as a mercenary or smith, he still seeks to learn knew techniques in forging or fighting with staff or polearm. He is also still interested in different religions, philosophies and ways of thinking. He does spend quite some time in and around Val’Reveran, sometimes staying with his relatives if he’s short of cash. But he also frequents the Raverarian as work and company can often be found there.

Description: A well muscled Drowolath male with shoulder length hair which is both cyan and red in colour (the cyan is natural he simply dies the white part of his hair red). Clad in scale mail that upon inspection shows to be covered in an array of acid etched marks spiders, blades, the holy eye, webs, blades, anvils and numerous others and variations of these. Wearing a rather nondescript cloak under which can be seen a short curved blade in a scabbard. But this is probably a secondary weapon as he carries a finely wrought steel staff as well. His legs bear greaves as protection and his hands seem rough as if he has worked long and hard with manual labour.
Skills: Master of staff fighting, can handle other polearms with some skill due to similarity in fighting style.
Master Smith (not much impact other than purely role playing material) has spent most of his life working in a forge and learning to craft metal.
Knows the bare basics of most weapons, he probably won’t hurt himself if he has to improvise in a fight but it’s still mostly heft and swing hard, real hard.
Strength and endurance is high from working in a smith for hours on end as well as running in full gear regularly to stay in shape.

Time Zone/Activity: GMT+2/ quite frequent but not to regular

Xian wrote:Nyrath: Now that is an equipment list. Very meticulous.

Good background, good description, good character concept, and heaven forbid, a bit of originality in there too. I like how you got creative with your staff and can assemble it into different weapons. Very interesting.

For you, good sir, I have a special treat.

Walking Contradiction
Posts: 1969
Joined: Sat Nov 27, 2004 12:00 pm
Location: Keepin' tuned in.

Azeioux Vormalkin Val'Sarghress by Kite

Postby kembaru » Thu Apr 13, 2006 9:42 am

Oy vey... Prepare to be bored. :P

Name: Azeioux Vormalkin Val'Sarghress


Purple and black clothing.
50 Ada in a belt pouch.
Seperate pouch on belt containing food and canteen.
Hitched to his belt, a sturdy steel scimitar.
2 Soulmir: green and yellow gemstones on a pendant around his neck.
Inside a backpack: A naughty book.
Inside a backpack: A logbook and pen.
Inside a backpack: Another set of clothes.

Magic: Traditional Summoning (Elendlari)
Beginning City: Chel'el'sussoloth
Clan: Val'Sarghress


During a time of no importance, Azeioux was born to the veteran soldier, Madel Vormalkin. She never quite understood nor cared who fathered her child-- for all she knew, it could have been anyone in her unit. However, those in her unit surmised that it was likely one of her male entourages, given his 'gangly' appearance. Though to set the facts straight, it -was- the nameless gangly entourage who did the dirty deed, by the way.

Following the Sarghress tradition, Madel chose Roridas, a beautiful daughter of one of her favored vassals, to raise her child. Roridas was what one would describe as a 'newblood': a fresh graduate, recently celebrated her 30th birthday, and little patience for crying brats. A busy, stern warrior in training like herself simply found the task of raising a child an irritance and a burden-- this is not unusual for young mothers of her kind.

So, for the first couple of years, Roridas was extremely inattentive of Azeioux. If it were not for the persistant watch of Madel's entourage, Azeioux would have died an untimely death from hunger and neglect before his first birthday. By the age of four, Azeioux had the mind not to care for Roridas either, and thus reveled in each amount of terrible chaos his little gangly form could cause her. Lets say that, after the incident with the flying feces during sword practice, Roridas began disappearing for longer lengths of time.

The nameless entourage did what little he could do for young Azeioux during Roridas' reoccuring absences. Being a slave, the entourage possessed little: no education to teach, no possessions to pass on, no knowledge of the world outside, and lastly, no future. Yet, what he gave was perhaps all the boy needed: a stern smack over the head and the declarance that the boy needed to make something of himself in order to be acknowledged as a Sarghress. To be told that, by a lowly slave... Azeioux snapped.

Azeioux demanded books-- specifically, ones of magic, lore, and history. Reading was not alien to him- it was no longer escapism for Azeioux, now his future depended on it. He acknowledged that his lean and tall form was not built to be a warrior like his mother hoped, so he would get her attention in another way. He seeked not just the approval of his mother, but all of Sarghress and Chel'el'sussoloth. Such was the child's grand ambition.

And so the nameless entourage did just that. Were it by luck or the careful web of connections he's managed to create in his long life, he obtained these books and encouraged little Azeioux the best he could. However, the relationship between the boy and Roridas suffered even more in the coming years-- Azeioux' shameless pranks and terror causing her to disappear for more months at a time. It was to his best interest; who could concentrate with all of that whining and bitching? She kept trying to teach him warrior skills, which Azeioux had no desire or interest in and expressed that feverently. It wasn't that she bullied him-- it was the other way around this time. He simply found her presence a nuisance.

The day that Azeioux was waiting for had come. It was his 10th birthday, and all of the time he had spent studying and steeling himself for this event paid off. At first what Madel saw as a gangly child was now, ten years later, a proud and intelligent being she saw as one of her own blood. With praise and recognition, she approved of his further tutoring at the Orthorbbae.

Roridas was pleasantly surprised by the boy's triumphant and unexpected success, though told Madel nothing of her actual (lack of) involvement. Neither did Azeioux-- he had plenty of time to scheme up a plan to carve his place in the Sarghress, and it would come after he was strong enough to accomplish this. Madel's nameless entourage, who was all the while witness to this growth of the boy, could have not been more proud of his son.

At the Orthorbbae, Azeioux passed himself as an average student on all educational studies, learning the skills of traditional summoning, torture and, at his mother's insistance, weapons training (he preferred the scimitar). During the end two-days of each month, he returned to the Sarghress fortress to regain relations with Roridas, as if his 10 years of misbehaving did not occur.

Being with other children for once, Azeioux thoroughly enjoyed an ...active social life at the school. If one would describe his behavior then, he was a grim sort. The grim kind of sort that pulled horrible pranks and got caught. One that loved the attention and the acknowledgement of his terrible acts, but never got it. One that yearned for power but always fell short. If he was frustrated, it was written on his face-- how could he ever amount to anything?

This was tested in Azeioux's first real elendlari exam, 15 years into his schooling: Obtain your first faeyorn by defeating it in battle. He was pit against a warlar, a Jaal'darya modified wolf-- had his mother not insisted his weapons training, surely he would have lost his life. Because of this near-death experience with a mere beast, he pulled himself together and took his schooling more seriously than before in next following years.

He emerged from the Orthorbbae 5 years later as a respectable summoner and scholar. Thanks to his newfounded dedication, he was able to acheive a notable status for his graduation. His consistant visits with Roridas during these past 20 years even blossomed into a secret romance towards the end. His mother, Madel, requested his immediate return to the Sarghress for assignment. For Azeioux, everything was falling into place.

Upon his return to the Sarghress home, his first destination was secretly meet with Roridas. As final gift to his beloved 'tutor' Roridas, he slayed her at her most vulnerable moment, and gave her the everlasting 'blessing' as living on as his faeyorn golem servant. Unfortunately, there was an... accident, in the ritual to bind Roridas' aura to the soulmir. He found this as a suitable end for the person he despised the most.

After a congratulatory meeting with his mother, he was assigned to a group of fellow Sarghress elendlari scholars like himself for further experience and study. To his delight, his mother approved of his actions against Roridas when he informed her of the deed-- she saw strength just as he did, and Azeioux felt he made his first real step as a Sarghress. He now had the rest of his immortal life to accomplish the rest of his childhood dream-- there was no need to be hastey now.

As the decades passed, Azeioux found himself performing duties for the Sarghress, slowly raising his rank and favor with his peers. There was importance in keeping his skills sharp, such as his swordsmanship and summoning. He probably fathered a child or two, but this was something he never concerned himself about. The last couple of years have been rather... uneventful, given the amount of effort he put in to get to where he is as a nobleman. With time to kill, he now searches for a little excitement.

Elendlari Faeyorn:

Warlar: Named Menendas.
A large, rugged wolven creature, covered in ashen fur with brown tips. It's shoulder height reaches 4 feet from the ground.
As described in the background, Azeioux obtained this warlar by defeating it in his the first elendlari exam and sealing its aura into a green soulmir. Menendas now serves as Azeioux's trusted guardian. Seeing as he defeated the beast with only a sword, it's not likely to kill an armed person by itself, and definately not one that is heavily armored.
Aggressive and contemptuous.

Golem: Named Roridas or... Ms. Jiggles.
If successful, a beautiful petite drowolath of 5'5 feet. Skilled with swords. If not...
Also described in the background, Roridas was killed by Azeioux and sealed into a yellow soulmir. There was an... accident in the ritual bonding Roridas' aura to the gem, causing her to have difficulty maintaining her native shape. The summoning is likely to fail, causing her to have an odd... amorphous form.
If she is summoned, she'd need to be armed and armored in order to be a real threat. Otherwise she's just entertainment, a pet.
Naturally, aggressive and contemptuous.

Race: Drowolath
Age: 128
Eyes: Emerald
Hair: Cornflower Blue
Skin color: Semi-sweet chocolate (yummy!)
Height: 6 Feet

Dressed in a rich purple and black faern attire. His long, waist-length hair is typically left in a charming, windswept ruffle about his shoulders and back. He tends to keep a wily countenance about him, if not a grim one.
Picture I drew of him over a month ago: Here

Xian wrote:Kite: Your background is like a shining example of exactly what I want to see. Length, width, depth; it's got three dimensions. There is so much substance in this background that I could probably survive for several days without any other source of sustenance. I hope that when people review this submission as an example of precisely what to do, they approach it with the proper degree of reverence and at least fall to their knees in wonder and awe.

Love the picture, by the way.

Walking Contradiction
Posts: 1969
Joined: Sat Nov 27, 2004 12:00 pm
Location: Keepin' tuned in.


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