Post by hellscream123 on Sept 2, 2013 4:46:51 GMT -5
Gargen Ice-Hand. A 3'5 hin with shoulders twice as broad as any other kin you'll commonly find and heavy toned muscle throughout his being make him look quite strange; coupled with his almost constant glaring eyes long northern script tattoo's covering over most of his upper body and his shins, Make him the angriest, meanest hin you're likely to find
Arician "Blue" Hellscarem - Always serious, always strange, and always rolling his eyes.
Gargen the angry hin.
Post by tollingbells on Sept 7, 2013 0:48:32 GMT -5
Weight: On the thin side
Hair: A tannish color, like a mix of white blonde and light brown (#aa8f41 or 170R 143G 65B)
Eyes: Olive green
Skin: Slightly dark from working in the sunlight
Voice: A higher pitch with a sweet ring to it, and a accent that's less gruff than a normal peasant's.
Scars and Marks: There's a mark under her chin from where her violin rests, as well as a few scars and rough spots on her hand from instrument playing.
She's very polite and sweet, but shy and non confrontational. She doesn't like to fight, and will steer clear of confrontations, unless she has to protect herself or others from physical harm. She has a large old leather knapsack, and attaches her guitar box and violin box to it. Her clothes are a little tattered, and worn, but they look like what she's wearing, generally.
Name: Lynn Rose Dove Hieght: 5'6" Wieght: 115 Birthplace: Calimport
Lynn has small dark red scales, and red wings. Most of the time she wears backless dress's to accomidate her wings. When she is out hunting she wears leather armor with a mantle, and hood. She's never seen without her wedding ring, even though all her other rings are constantly being changed. A necklace hangs around her neck of the platium dragon. On her right wrist is a tattoo of the platium dragon wrapping its tail around her wrist. The body and head covers the back of her hand. On the back of her left hand is a single blue rose.
How do you face another day when all you can do is cry? How do you face another night when your heart is dying? How do you smile when all you can think of is why? How do you laugh when all you can hear is your own pain? How do you face the person who caused all this suffering? How do you forgive when they took the life of the man you call son?
Name: Colin Darkhand Race: Human Age: Late twenties Height: 5'11 Eye colour: Hazel Tattoos: Celtic bands around his wrists and biceps
At first glance of this rugged fellow a rather cruel scar can be seen, trailing from his right cheek down past his neck. He wears common, practical clothing. A studded leather cuirass fastened over the top. Secured to his belt are several pouches, vials, a mug and a dagger. Also visible are two rapiers, sheathed on either hip. A longbow and quiver are slung over his shoulder beside his backpack. Perhaps the most peculiar thing about this man is the tight fitting black leather glove on his left hand.
Active Joric Battle-Born Colin Darkhand Dave Marcus Lyon
This average height female human has a slim, well-proportioned figure. Her sable robes are the well-cut silk of the northern lands, bound at the waist with a broad red-gold cloth sash through which is thrust an ornate dagger in a decorative sheath, a pale sliver of sleety steel showing up through the tang guard.
Moving your gaze upward, you see a rather comely and young face, unmarred by the horrors of war or the cruelties of adventuring - save for a somewhat sinister looking tattoo or birthmark adorning her left cheek. The birthmark is somber coloured ash, and seems to vaguely resemble the curving horns of a goat or mountain ram.
Getting a more full picture of the woman you see before you, you take in her full figure. The curvature of her hips and more than ample breasts are outlined clearly by the material of her robes. Her hair is a midnight black, at the moment tied up in a ponytail to shorten its length. Her arms, from what little can be seen under her darkling robes, are thin and dainty.
Eyes of amber crown a rarely glimpsed smile, mocking in the ruby-red curve of her lips - almost as if there is some cosmic joke being played out in her head. Skin the colour of alabaster plunges down to a mid-length neckline that shows a small hint of her bosom. The cloth of her robes is cut to best accent her figure, and by hint of her form underneath, it's quite evident that she wears no undergarments. If she is bothered by this exposure to the elements, she does not show it.
Perched on her shoulder is a grey-feathered raven with a small and somewhat comical looking fur kilt adorning his twig thin legs. The kilt seems to be crafted from valued black ram-fur, and the raven's beady eyes regard the world with unnatural intelligence from its quickly swiveling head.
A simple pack adorns her back, though she seems uncomfortable with the weight. A daub of ink stains her perfect nose, and she stands straight and erect with an almost naive courage, regarding the world with intelligence from her glittering eyes.
EDIT: Since describing these is getting a bit annoying whenever they can be seen...
(Only visible if the corresponding part of her body is exposed, of course!)
-Left Collarbone- A Two-headed goat in black ink is situated just below her left collarbone, the beast seems to have been cut open and splayed across a gnarled, twisted looking oak tree. The nine "Roots" of the tree are inked in black and spread all the way down to her waist.
-Serpents run twined around her left arm, each length blends into each other, meeting in 1 single crowned head on the top of the left palm, it's forked tongue inked in scarlet down her middle finger.
-Her left Shoulder blade is marked with a skeletal figure in dark blue and black ink, the corpse wears a red and gold crown and clutches a solid silver scepter of some sort.
- Her front chest and abdomen bears a grotesquery of black and silver ink and piercings, seeming to depict an unknown Fiend shouting with abandon as it lays open the throat of a human man. Behind, nude figures bathe it in oils and worship it by flagellating themselves. The thing's carapace is carven with redly inked runes and markings.
Last Edit: Feb 22, 2014 12:09:39 GMT -5 by wickedone
Post by leilasemira on Oct 31, 2014 6:16:06 GMT -5
Name: Leila Semira Alias: Normally just calls herself Priestess Semira Race: Human (And yes.. still very much alive.) Apparent Age: 25 Height: 5'8" Eyes: Amber Skin: Unnaturally pale due to dealings with negative energies. Hair: Dyed black Attire: Always hooded with a black hood that shadows her face though does not hide it entirely, seeming very well enchanted. She is adorned in full plate bone armor, skulls adorn the peices of cloth trailing from the armor appearing of an old worn out torn wizard's robe. A necklace dangles obviously from her neck, of a solid black hexagon with a crowned lich skull centered. Rings on each hand having similar holy symbols. Entirety of her presence seems unnatural and giving off a powerful feeling of negative energy and obvious evil. Staff appearance: Held on by a white skeletal hand spreading out from the metal of the staff: the head on the staff appears real some how human though it is much smaller. Upon the skull is a simple crown similar to the holy symbol of Velsharoon. The eyes, glowing red, seem to follow your movements eerily. A spiral of necronomic runes, in what seems to be blood, spirals down the black shaft a foot. The rest of the shaft is a sleek black metal which comes to a simple slightly rounded end. The feeling of negative energy nearly dripping from it. Her voice: To friends, allies, she speaks soft almost kind but still serious. To others it is dark and serious, confident of herself. Demeanor: Quiet dark and deadly. Serious, all to serious unless for the most part amongst those she considers family, which even then she still holds some seriousness. Weapon: A simple, very simple mace with a foreboding metal skull. Standing out from the rest of her heavily enchanted self. Shield: Black shield with a crowned skull centered, blood stains seem to be kept on it. Though still very simple and basic compared to the rest of her.
Aged in his late twenties or early thirties Vennis dresses in stylish, elegant clothing cut from expensive material such as silks, velvet and soft leathers. Even his travel clothing, though sturdy and rugged, is of high quality and an enchanted dwarven mithral shirt can be glimpsed underneath. A half-elven hood protects him from the elements.
His sword is encased in an elegant scabbard, yet when drawn seems to be made of an admantine/mithral alloy of some kind and is wickedly sharp. The handle is made from polished ivory or some other bone, and befits a man of his refined style. His shield is finely constructed and bears the mark of the Arabel forge The Staunch Defence.
A yarting of the highest quality is invariably strapped to his back, giving an indication of his profession. More curiously, strapped into his belt is a small harp wreathed in fire which, when played , has strings of pure flame.
Though he wears such finery his hair is often tousled and he can have many days stubble growth. This is perhaps a deliberate styling in the bohemian ideal rather than slothfulness on his part however.
He often displays any awards and honours quite prominently, such as his Medal of Valour, won during the defence of Marsember.
Post by Retired DM Pithirendar on Nov 17, 2014 3:02:37 GMT -5
Name: Allyson Black Apparent Age: Mid-late twenties Height: 5'5" Weight: Slim Eyes: Grey/Blue Skin: Cormyrean skin tones. Hair: Black
Plain features with intense eyes that hold a coldness to them. Only those she is closest to see any warmth. Her long straight hair is always worn in a high ponytail, pulled tightly into place. Stubborn locks fall over her left eye, the only thing to seem out of place on her person. She carries various pouches and tomes. Numerous wands hang from her belt, some made of bone, others plantinum. Her attire speaks of her wealth. She wears a mithril chain shirt imbued with magic, sturdy military style boots, and thick slacks most of the time. Her posture is tense. She never quite seems at ease or comfortable in her surroundings. Magical energies swirl around her, hinting at the mastery she holds. Most would say there is something not quite right about her. It's hard to put your finger on but her presence can be off putting.
If she is seen with a staff made of bone, when one gets too close they might detect an aura of negative energy thrumming through the smooth surface. Where the staff touches the ground, any natural life withers lifelessly.
A faint smell of jasmine lingers in the air behind her.
She now wears an oversized gauntlet on her left arm. It looks out of place on her person as if it was made for a creature much bigger than she.
Post by bloodalchemist on Nov 19, 2014 2:51:57 GMT -5
Name: Mara Ironheart Apparent Age: Nearing Thirty Height: 6'0" Weight: 250 in her armor, 300 with shield, 700 total with pack weight Eyes: Blue Skin: Tan, bearing several scars and now a few stress lines around her eyes and lips Hair: Black
Half Damarran, Half Shou, this woman often seems and sounds out of place in cormyr. Emotion that touches her face seems to flash into existence and disappear just as suddenly, returning to her typical blank, inscrutable expression. Where once Mara could have simply been called muscular, the woman is now practically herculean in build. When shedding her armor, it reveals a massively built woman, pound after pound of thick corded muscle stretched upon a sturdy frame. She even seems to have grown in height in this time. Hardly ever seen outside of her armor, the triple thick steel only adds to her bulk giving her an appearance similar to a particularly tall dwarf or short ogre stuffed into fullplate. Each plate looks to have been designed to withstand blows from a giant, and bears marks of some Sembian smith. Always with her, either strapped to her pack or on her arm is an equally sturdy looking shield, bearing marks of Cormyrian make. More recently she has added gold and iron onto its surface, depicting a rearing Griffon, clutching in one claw an axe, spear and sword, the other a sack of coin overflowing with silver coin bearing a double head. She carries several axes of various make, but at her right side rests a cruel looking battle-axe with writing carved into the handle. It shimmers with heat any time she rests a hand on or even near the weapon.
Mara doesn't walk so much as trudge, a sure footed march to whatever destination she has in mind, she typically makes a lot of noise, the sound of her armor and the many tools and pieces of her gear rubbing and bouncing together creating a racket audible from a good distance, each step distinct.
The most recent edition to her arsenal appears rarely and only when she is headed for thick combat, a black furred swine's head bearing an infernal rune on its head, the wound on its neck still looking fresh, though lacking any blood now. The ghastly trophy is securely wrapped in thick rope that she ties to her belt, swinging and she rushes to and fro as she rushes into the thick of combat.
Player ID's: Popetimus_Prime BloodAlchemist Goblinfort
Post by Saucy Rogue on Nov 19, 2014 17:36:22 GMT -5
Name: Merilin Faulkner Race: Half-Elf Age: Mid-Twenties Height: Taller than an elf, shorter than a human
Merilin is a young woman of average height and lithe build, with wiry muscles and dextrous limbs. Her hair is a deep midnight black, eyes a dark stormy grey and skin a dusky olive. Most notable, however, are the soft angular features of her face and the gentle tapering of the tips of her ears, identifying her as half-elven. She can typically be found wearing a set of supple leathers, her current outfit sporting strategically placed white wolf fur. Around her shoulders is a pitch black cloak complete with hood, and strapped to her back several small bladed weapons, a sturdy quiver, a shield and a small bow. The soft scent of apples and pipe-smoke wafts lazily behind her.
Description: A tall elderly man wearing a pointy hat. He is seen wielding a staff with a sword tucked away at his side. Often found carrying multiple packs on hes back or upon his trusty white steed Galendrial. Following his admittance into Cormyr, He traveled to Espar to become a registered Mage of Corymr. He's found mostly within Greatgaunt or in the Stormhaven College within Espar. Very rarely has he been seen wandering about spouting off about his chickens Timmy and Tammy whom apparently he misplaced. Other times he is seen tattered manuals of enchanting and working with various magical items.
Last Edit: Dec 19, 2014 19:21:55 GMT -5 by Malzaron
Entori is currently seen at he stands 5'5 and lithe. with finely braided hair, and trappings of light cloth, all marked with elven runes or elven make. he bears a duskwood ring with shards of a broken inscribed Beljuril. His eyes are a deep blue, that scan and study much of what is around him.
he is often speaking to kin, or private matters in hushed voices. He is occasionally seen making as well as armor, and magical goods. However he keeps his dealings with elves more private then with the general population. he often writes in large journals and tomes in elven.
his landmark item, a staff that he has been seen crafting for over a year, always rests nearby. (below)
To those who knew him, to what he is now. There is and has been a finite change in his manner, confidence anew in his eyes, yet much of the argumentative and stubborn pride has been washed away. Throughout the realm his attention is drawn to kin he see's and to matters either at risk to Cormyr or to the hullack. His cloak bears a rune of his, and his step is quiet. It is not unknown to see the mage stalk off quietly into the woodlands or to occasionally simply sit and watch the goings on to the notice, or lack there of, of the common folk.
"Eha'fae'othril" short for; Ehalaer'faern'Ilaerothril, meaning the staff who stands guard over magic, is the name placed upon the this work. It is a creation of the elven wizard Entori Be'te'wa.
The staff bears at it's crown a Star Sapphire, it has etched gold attaching it to a staff of Iron wood, painstakingly carved, bears below the gemstone a grouping of Forest Lilies and matching leaf's. Separating this section from the next is a carved Celtic work ring.
Below the Ring is three holy symbols
Equally spaced around the staff, is the holy symbol of Corellon Larthian, it is a shining simple silver cresent moon.
The next is a golden with bronze hue , Sun with ray's reaching skyward, it is the Elven god, Labelas Enoreth's Symbol,
Thirdly is the Symbol of Lady Mystra. The seven star's upon the staff is done in purple and red gemstones. A purple crystal has been ground and ground into a fine powered and spread along the face of the carved recess and glued into place, where 7 shards of ruby have been cut and placed in a semi circle.
Again a etched Celtic circle is below this separating the hand hold from the rest of the staff. The hand hold is a spiraling cut, around the staff, it is quite similar to a "barber pole" but Elongated for an elven grip.
The Portion that remained for runes now stands a curved tree, carved out and a mithril tree inlaid into it, Atop of each tree there is stars, 3 are beljurils, 3 are moonstoons, the top a shinning flawless diamond.
the tree is given depth and character by having lines etched upon it, Upon closer inspection these are runes, the bases for spells. Like the stars above, which are cut in a princess fashion each star bears a series of tiny runes around the outside of the cut. each gemstone was filed, and polished gleaming and set with mithril.
Finally the bottom 1.5 feet, is a Admantine fuller, heavy, sturdy, it gives a sharp end to the staff and a sturdy base. balancing the staff and protecting it from the grim and grit along the roads of Cormyr.
Etched into the fuller is an enslavement, of the Litany of Arrows in elven.
May our Arrows Fly Swift, May our Blades Strike True, May our Spells Smite our Foes and Shield Us from Harm
Known to many as merely Ess (Pronounced "S"), this Sun Elf is often considered stunning and gorgeous even by the standards of her own people. A prime example of her race visually, with the trademark silken blonde hair and sun kissed bronzed skin, she compliments her beauty with an easily charming smile and a melodic voice.
Standing at 5'8" she is slender, with high cheekbones and brilliant pale ice-blue eyes flecked through with darker specks of sapphire.
Though she moves with a supple grace, she doesn't present the greatest image of lithe finesse that many elves do, though clearly holds an above average poise. She lacks muscle definition, leaving her limbs soft. Her hands are those of an artist, long fingered and delicate.
She keeps fastidiously clean, carries only a small pack in compliment to her well tailored, if simple clothing.
If seen sitting on her own, reading or otherwise, she can often be heard humming melodic elven tunes, or in the presence of small illusory prismatic butterflies that flutter about her person.
Sugar + Spice + [everything]Nice Illusionist.Waitress.Scholar.Student
"The fine line between valuing traditions and social slavery is marked by an individuals right for freedom of choice without prejudice."
name: AhKanlirr (translates to Shines as a Crafty Eagle) of the Annua Thaa (The Favored Few) race: obvious Sy'Tel'Quessir (also known as wild elves/sylvan elves/green elves) gender: female built: taller and more stocky and strongly built than other elves hair: dark brown eyes: vividly emerald green skin: dark brown, tattoed/painted
To those unfamiliar with her subrace, she would appear to look more like a half-elf than an elf. She is taller, stockier and strongly built for an elf, even more so for a female elf. Despite that, she moves with a careful precision of the elven kind.
She is dark-skinned, dark-haired and green eyed. Her clothing is kept to personal balance between practicality and bare minimum. Although she makes up for this with body decoration of all sorts - especially tattoes and henna-like paint. These patterens are intricate naturalistic patterns - vines and flowers climbing around her arms and legs. The only animalistic imagery are those of an eagle. The one biggest, most prominent and never changing is on her shoulder.
It is painfully obvious that she cares about her appearance at least as much as other elves, but not in the same way.
Hard as nails is obviously the image this elf wants to impose on her environment. She assures that both by her attitude and the tribal war paint that she applies to further conseal any softness and cuteness she is gifted by her age, gender and race. At the first glance she is feisty and belligerent, at the second she might seem self-consious and a bit gold greedy. At third, well... it's anybody's guess.
While in many ways she would resemble a predatory animal, her calm eyes could be disturbing to the city folk. Those that expect a ravening beast-woman or a stinking savage will find unblinking intelligence instead.
[Edited, Eagle fited better than wolf]
Last Edit: Feb 14, 2016 14:17:23 GMT -5 by mandene
Player of: Ariean The Clanless, Warden of Hullack, Many Titles
((I consider his portrait a very accurate representation))
Willem appears young, maybe having seen nineteen winters at most. Standing around 6’2”, he sports dark brown hair and nearly matching eyes, with a clean shaven face. His frame is built with clear strength, though he is not bulky by most standards. Willem has no identifying scars visible, though his hands are calloused and hardened from many years of hard work.
When travelling Willem don’s well-made plated armors, along with Cloak and pack. His choice weapon is apparent, as one can spy a hilt and pommel over his right shoulder- a Greatsword. Hanging from his pack Willem keeps a Heavy pick and Shortbow as well. His walk gives no sense of overconfidence or lack thereof- it is simply a paced stride to move from one place to the next.
Willem’s face wears a regarding and curious look around his surroundings. For the most part, it’s safe to assume he is approachable.
Ismene- A monk; Avowed of Candlekeep Willem Littledale- An Ironsworn
Arician "Blue" Hellscarem A tall mage at an odd 6ft'2 with broader shoulders than most of his discipline.
His face is tired and and aging, line and creases of a lifetime fighting begin to take their toll. Yet he still stands proudly with an air of old nobility and eyes that have seen more than they let on.
His runic leather is forever cleaned and repaired with each new use with arcane runes and draconic symbols carefully stitched into it so they shine as he moves and dances in combat.
His hair gains a new grey line with each passing season and his eyes are now pure white with his pupil occasionally showing a faint blue shine in some light.
(after all magic has been cast) Stands prouder and gains an odd one and a half inches of height with broader shoulders more much more heavily defined muscles his eyes glow with blue runes behind a mask of silvery adamantine that holds no expression or detail.
As always his normal attire is finely made with beautiful stitching and patterns woven to hide within itself to all but the most astute eyes. His silver necklace to Mystra occsionaly dangles over them but more often than not hides behind his shirt.
Walking through the Bramblewoods as a new arrival to Cormyr, Daphne and Anen stumbled across a dead female bear; with her two cubs- one female and one male. Taking an oath within themselves, Daphne and Anen swore to always protect the Brambles and the animals in it from poachers and from creatures who wish to destroy their home. The cubs, named Eska (meaning: Home), and Elladyr (meaning: Starstrike), were taken to a nearby cave to remain safe.
Although only Daphne and Eska remain now in Cormyr, Daphne still keeps her oath in which she protects the Brambles, doing regular walks and getting reports from the animals which she is able to speak with in Elven- Thus, earning her title "Whisperer of Bears"
Her friends are as follows: - Solari (Black bear at the entrance of the Brambles, N of Greatgaunt) - Pixie (A black bear further N, near the pixie's home) - Fluffy (A crag cat whom lives to the NW of the Brambles)
ESKA: Playful and Young- Female.
SOLARI A little timid but trusting- Male
PIXIE A very cute little one- Male
FLUFFY: Just a big kitty cat who loves meat from the Inn- Male
[original artist name lost, black and white image colored by myself]
5'8" Sleek, athletic build. Piercing blue eyes. Youthful.
A wood elf that carries serious demeanor that may seem at odds with his apparent youth, Vay may certainly seem the taciturn sort. His expression is not one to warm, even when expressing humorous sentiments, overall giving the impression of a somber, perhaps even cool, attitude.
Though he is marked with little ostentation, two silver hoops hang from his left ear.
A small, slightly jagged scar mars his left cheek, just below his eye.
He carries two shortblades, a shield, as well as a longbow, all of which are well cared for.
"I'quelin Mori'Quessier naa ba Mori'Quessir." "The best Dhaerow is a dead Dhaerow." ~ Daphne
Name: Avae'ess "Daphne" Vresor (Avae'ess meaning 'Joy Bringer') Age: 122 years old (Born: 13 Ches, 1258) Race: Wood elf Location: Siafanar Sindora, High Forest. (Siafanar Sindora meaning Flower to this Land) Deity: Corellon Larethian (Others: Solonor- The Great Archer; and Rillifane- The Leaflord) Alignment: Chaotic Good
Daphne, a dark haired elfess with coppered skin looks upon her friends with olive green eyes, the tone ever changing and her eyes darkening to a forest green as they reflect like cat's eyes in the dark of the night. Her hair is typically cut in a long-pixie style, unusual for an Elven woman; her fringe long and swept across her forehead to hide a large scar and thin braids plated into her hair. Her cheek bones contouring her thin face, her lips full. Upon her left ear is a Mithril earcuff climbing up her earlobe in a vine-like design of the Keryma'Mista'Arael (Wardens of the Hullack). The lithe elfess stands shorter than her fellow kin, standing around 4'8" tall. Those who know her know she typically compares her height to those around her, an amused expression sowing upon her face.
Daphne is friendly, happy and perhaps over-excited most of the time. Though behind those beautiful olive eyes hides her pain, her darkness; a mysterious quirk curling upon her lips. Some would find she has a short temper, her silence usually an indicator of such as she stands in the shadows, waiting and watching those around her.
Avae'ess Daphne Vresor, youngest child and first born daughter of Mi'landra and Hogart, was born upon a cold winter's day in Siafanar Sindora, a small settlement NW of Karse within the High Forest. Growing up had been difficult for her with her half-Elven father insisting she not learn the use of weapons due to his own experiences. This caused her to rebel, learning in secret with the aid of Anen Silverspear and her eldest brother Zeska.
The relationship with Daphne and her brother Zeska was one of pure love, for she loved her brother more than she loved anyone else. He was the fatherly figure in her life as she grew up, her own father travelling often to seek information and trade with the Dwarves of another land unknown to her. Though Zeska taught her many things; how to be strong, how to protect herself and above all, how to love and live life to the fullest.
Though on a cool Winter's eve, the sound of Orcish drums filling the air, all had been taken from her. For on this day, the 20th day of Cres 1378, she had lost all. Her brother Zeska slain by the hand of a feather-crowned Orc, her kin tortured and killed, her own body defiled. On that night, all had changed within her. Her happiness diminished, her life in ruins. Her father had turned against her, blaming her for her brother's death resulting in her fleeing to Dina- City of Silence, with Anen to seek out Lach'lann, a dear friend who had saved her that night of the Orcish Raids. To change her identity she had cut her hair short, taking upon her middle name of Daphne rather than Avae'ess. With Lach'lann's aid, they'd found clues as to the feathered-Orc's whereabouts after some months; vengeance and retribution being her reason for journeying to Cormyr.
Upon each of her bows, she carves the name "Zeska", the etchings typically crude. Those who travel with her know that when her arrows find their bed within an Orc, she will fire one into the heart and eye of her foe- A tradition she has taken up since the death of her brother. Daphne still walks the lands of men to seek out the 'feathered one', her thoughts surrounded in the memories of her brother and her vengeance firing deep in her heart. With the help of her fellow Wardens, she seeks him in secret.
Friado is a Gnome of average height with a lean build and a tanned and weatherworn appearance as if he spends a lot of time outdoors. He has dark but greying hair, tied up in a ponytail and a moustache and goatee beard as is often the gnomish style.
He wears armour made out of giant beetle shell, dark green in colour and a similarly coloured hood and cloak provide him with shelter from the elements, though he rarely seems perturbed by them. A scimitar is strapped to his back, which he wields skilfully in two hands during combat.
As a druid he often takes the form of wild animals , for the most part woodland and burrowing creatures. Most recently he has been able to take the form of the large burrowing mammal, the wombat:
Like Friado, although the wombat has an endearing and rather harmless appearance, it has razor sharp claws and teeth to both burrow through hard earth and defend itself from unwary and perhaps overconfident enemies.
Arician "Blue" Hellscarem A tall mage at an odd 6ft'2 with broader shoulders than most of his discipline.
His face is tired and and aging, line and creases of a lifetime fighting begin to take their toll. Yet he still stands proudly with an air of old nobility with eyes that have seen more than than most and it shows.
His runic leather; ever faintly glowing in all lights. Is forever cleaned and repaired with each new day with arcane runes and draconic symbols lining it's every seam and fold so they shine every so often as he moves and dances in combat.
His hair gains more and more grey lineS with each passing season, his eyes pure white with his pupil occasionally showing a faint blue shine in some light. On occasion one can almost swear his right eye turns to an orb of pure brass when his focus turns to thought, but only ever for an instant before the white returns.
(after all magic has been cast) Stands prouder and gains an odd one and a half inches of height with broader shoulders more much more heavily defined muscles his eyes glow with blue runes behind a mask of blue steel and golden adamantine script that holds no expression beyond his flatter of looks.
As always his mundane attire is finely made with exquisite stitching and patterns woven to hide within itself to all but the most astute eyes. His silver necklace to Mystra dangles over them and his armor proudly displayed at all times.
Arician "Blue" Hellscarem - Always serious, always strange, and always rolling his eyes.
Gargen the angry hin.
Height: 6'8" Build: Very Muscular Hair: Black Eyes: Brown with flecks of red
This half-orc is happy. Very happy. When you talk to him, he will be smiling and listening to you sincerely. He seems to smile all the time, actually. You feel like any kind of insult would just fall apart from his strong aura of optimism alone. Around his smile, his face is surprisingly friendly and unmarred, except for the one small scar across the bridge of his nose. His tusks seem to be cleaned regularly, and his sideburns are smooth and fluffy. You can see a few sturdy-looking bottles attached to his belt: one filled with ground herbs, one with cloves of garlic, one with salt, and another with brown sugar...
Bao Gur: Your friendly neighborhood chef and toymaker! Tonvg Erged: If the Cheshire Cat were a guidance counselor. Vudash Kourd: Art history is reputable! Baltoha: Dancing King, Big and Green Yi jiang: That's pretty neat!
Post by deadbeatbert on Apr 24, 2016 15:36:02 GMT -5
Updated information: Tiberius Miller
Hair:Ranges from fairly a short dark blond coif to shoulder length shaggy locks. Depending on when it was last cut. His facial hair will often either be in need of shaving or clean shaved. In winter he sports a beard.
Gait: Upright, almost stately.
Upkeep: His armour is always clean and polished before going to fight, his clothes repaired and in good stead. His smithing gear though is entirely workman like.
Battle Style: He uses all of his force in a very straight forward brutish manner, taking every opportunity to pummel his foe into the ground and then aim for weak spots in their armour. There is no grace to this at all.
In the last three and a half years, Tiberius has grown two inches and added nearly thirty pounds to his frame. His hair has darkened a little, with the golden sheen of his mother's locks giving slight way to his father's mousey brown hair. His attitude has also changed. He is more confident in himself as a person and recognises his faults more, but that has not paid any influence over his desire to test himself at every opportunity. The odour of the forge is almost ever present and the soot and grime of smithing clings to him like a trophy.
Post by smacrasmacrasmacra on Jul 12, 2016 4:05:02 GMT -5
Height: 7' 1" // 216cm
Weight: 320 lbs // 145 kg
Build: lurching, lumbering, just a little elongated--he has a tendency to loom and lean over when speaking to people like a total creeper. Picture early to mid career Shaquille O'Neal without social graces.
Head: Some people have been hit with the ugly stick. Digger was repeatedly dragged through the ugly forest at high speed. His mouth hangs open almost impossibly far at nearly all times. His nose ring is glistening with mucous. His topknot tugs at the gnarly tangle of filmy hair, always greasy, despite his best efforts to keep it perfumed and clean. He is a warty, splotchy, acne-scarred, lash-scarred roadmap of pain and unfortunate genetics. His eyes are permanently squinting out from under the oppressive weight of his prodigious brow like a monstrous Gilbert Godfried. He stares too long. He breathes through his mouth. His ear hair is braided.
Speech: He tries so hard to figure out common. He has made significant strides of late and has studied his arse off to do so. His misunderstanding of a potentially incarcerating near-offense has proven beneficial. Still, he makes the occasional faux pas ranging in intensity from minor verb disagreements to inadvertently fomenting a coup d'etat. YMMV.
Weapon: His faithful friend is his super-heavy pick-axe (scythe) which he's replaced so many parts so many times it is an entirely different item by this point, but who's counting?
Common knowledge: raised in a lightless and isolated mining slave camp in Undermountain, freed when adventurers destroyed it and escaped in the chaos. Made his way east with his pick and cobbled together clothing as colorful as he could find. Has great difficulty with the mixed syntax of Common. Claims to be the King of Orcy Fashion. A bit of a humongous lost puppy. Is employed as a walking billboard for the Cornucopia Trading Company, something for which this small-giant is quite well suited...right up until people start asking him questions.