Refugee Characters - (Backgrounds and Theme Stories)

[Kelitayu]

This thread is for IC (backgrounds and Theme stories).

The following is a link to the OCC (Novice Adventurer Group Discussion). frc.proboards.com/thread/20528/novice-adventuring-group-discussion

[Kelitayu]

Nersa Millstone

Race: Human

Age: 31

Background:

Nersa was born within the settlement of Dawngleam to a local blacksmith and his wife who unfortunately died while giving birth to her. Her father was devastated with the loss of his love and whilst he never blamed the child for the death, it created a certain uneasy rift between the two that would last throughout Nersas early years. Nersa spent her time as a child running through the streets playing adventurer and being a rascal at times not being above pick pocketing rich looking marks. At night she was very fond of climbing the coastal walls of the settlement to look out across The Neck, a narrow choke point leading out to form the vast Dragonmere water mass.

One day at the age of 11, Nersa noticed a nobleman with a pouch full of coins. She attempted to steal the coins in a snatch and grab attempt but was foiled as she tripped up and fell into the back of a guardsman. Nersa was only young at the time and her father’s good reputation was enough to get her off with a warning. Her father began to see that his neglect had begun to lead her down a dishonorable path so he gave her a job working as his assistant at the blacksmith. Nersa would spend the next twenty years helping forge helmets, swords and armour. She also spent time practicing her martial skills against a combat dummy positioned out the back of the shop but in all that time she had never had to fight an enemy in true combat. Nersa enjoyed the idea of combat and war in a strategic sense though she did not like the idea of actually having to kill anyone, her studies were completely theoretical. 

Nersa was an intelligent woman and also spent her time reading books and tomes she brought from passing merchant caravans. She would often frequent the local temples to learn about the gods. She honored a variety of deities including Red Knight, Tempus, Tymora and Waukeen. She admired and studied Red Knight in particular though did so in an academic sense, never actually wanting to enter a combat situation herself. Strategies and tactics interested her greatly and she used her growing knowledge of warfare to forge unique armor and weapons at the smith. Often times these armors and weapons would be too outlandish and lack practicality though she persevered and learned to refine their designs. She would often enjoy playing chess and other similar games with wise old men at the local tavern to which she became quite a formidable challenger, giving even the oldest and wisest of players a run for their money. 

Nersa was content with her life although as the war began to worsen her father insisted that she travel west across the Way of the Manticore with the other refugees to seek shelter deeper within the kingdom. Having never really left her home settlement, Nersa reluctantly took her unscratched, perfectly maintained armor, blade and kite shield along with her. She had no idea then just how much she would need them…

Physical Description:

Nersa is a strong and healthy woman with toned muscles and a resilient spirit. She has cool, blue/gray eyes that survey her surroundings with a calculating intelligence. Her hair is long, wispy, and straight cut just above the mid-section of her back. Her militaristic nature is clear from the heavily customized armor she often wears along with a lovingly maintained blade at her belt and kite shield fastened upon her back. Out of combat she appears calm, calculating and a little distant at times whilst during combat she fights with ferocity and a steely determination.


Recalling the Caravan Attack (work in progress):

The caravan attack caught Nersa by surprise, as her armor, shield and blade were tucked away in a storage box. She would forever curse herself for not being properly prepared when the attack struck. At the time she had been walking alongside a Purple Dragon soldier whom she had been speaking with throughout the trip. Her curiosity had led her to ask him about his training as a soldier and they had generated a general acquaintance as a result. Unfortunately, the soldier was struck by an arrow close to the heart within the opening moments of the attack and fell to the floor. Nersa dropped to her knees next to him in utter shock and held him tightly in her arms, she attempted to apply pressure to the wound though blood splurged out regardless. The soldiers life quickly faded away and Nersa experienced a harsh lesson, soldiers are flesh and blood, not mere pawns on a chess board. She had no time to grieve, as her thoughts quickly turned to her own survival. She grabbed the soldiers weapon, a heavy mace tightly in her hand and pulled herself up. At that moment the Purple Dragons were fighting at the head of the caravan, she considered joining them in the struggle though she knew that she was completely unprepared and the caravan guards were easily outnumbered. Nersa's keen tactical mind knew that the two choices open to her was to join the hopeless defense or to try for a tactical retreat.

Although torn, she felt the hand of Red Knight upon her shoulder and she knew that this was no time for foolish heroics. Nersa began to retreat to the back of the caravan where there appeared to be an opening in the attackers lines. As she reached the back end of the caravan she came face to face with a Sembian warrior who brandished his weapon at her, she steadied herself, holding up her heavy mace defensively. The Sembian, roared furiously at her and charged, Nersa slid to the side and with a mix of luck and quick thinking she managed to drag her mace into his belly with all her strength, blood splurted across her face and hair as the Sembian dropped to his knees. Nersa's mind was in shock, she had never killed a man before. This moment would remain like a splinter trapped within her heart for the rest of her life. She did not know this man, she had no quarrel with him, yet he was willing to kill her. In that moment Nersa might have collapsed into despair but she didn't, her strength of spirit took over and she proceeded to hastily yell an order to any other survivors at the back of the caravan to follow her. She then began to lead any who followed away from the carnage, deep into the wilderness.


Nersa's Journal in the aftermath of the attack:

The Board is Set…
I see now, the fog has lifted and my eyes have been opened. Life is white and I am black. Life has made the first move and sought to snuff me out right off the bat, a pre-emptive attack it would seem. A worthy move but I fear you have failed in the attempt and I still breathe, you will now live with the consequences. You wish to be a monster? I'll be more brutal a monster than you could ever imagine. I'll grab you by the reigns and tame you. I will make you regret this betrayal. Oh, I'll be calm, I'll be calculated, and I'll be smart. I know better than to begin the game without a full deck. No, I will face you with all the pieces and together we will conquer you. I shall take a rag tag band of adventurers and turn them into something great. With Red Knight as my witness, the game is on!

[stonerender]

Venrik Morris
Race: Human
Age: 29
Theme: link (found this about the time I was making the character and thought it fit nicely: A remix of one of my favorite game tracks ever).

Background: The son of a Waterdavian woman and a woodsman of the Dales, Venrik was born in the forests of Deepingdale. From the earliest days he was at home within the woods, tramping around, through, and up the trees around his home from the time he was able to walk and talk. His mother, a retired adventurer, passed away when Venrik was ten, his father following a short two years later. The adolescent Venrik was taken in by a half-elven cleric of Mielikki named Valen Alastral. In the care of Valen, Venrik began to learn the ways of the ranger, establishing a deeper connection to the land that was his home. His skills proved useful as a militiaman, where he soon proved to be quite capable with both blade and bow.

As always, life had surprises in store for the young Venrik when the long time bantering and flirtations between himself and his childhood friend Miriam Hearth turned into romance and the two were wedded shortly after Venrik turned twenty one years of age. A year later Miriam became pregnant with their first child, though the child was tragically lost at birth, nearly taking the mother with him. Two years later the couple's luck changed as they welcomed a healthy boy named Aidan into the world. Seeking a quieter life, Venrik began to steer his training under Valen toward the path of the cleric.

Again, however, fate would throw a new twist when word reached the half-elf of the approach of an old foe of Venrik's mother, a man who had finally learned where she had fled all those years back and was approaching quickly to take revenge for deeds Venrik never even knew occurred. With only a couple of days warning, the ranger packed up his family and set out on the road, hoping to find a new life to the West, away from the ghosts of his mother's past. Their road would ultimately take them into Cormyr. For Miriam and Aidan, it would prove their end. For Venrik, it was only the beginning.

Venrik is a man tall and lean with brow hair and eyes to match. He is physically fit and healthy with eyes that show both intelligence and insight. His manner is quiet but usually friendly and he is always willing to lend a helping hand to those in need. These qualities will soon be tested to their limit, however...

The Attack (new)

Venrik peered out the back of the covered wagon. Miriam sat across from him, young Aidan curled up next to her, napping. The trip had been uneventful, a fact Venrik was grateful for. Having to suddenly uproot his family was bad enough without the trip itself becoming a nightmare. His thoughts drifted back to home: everyone had been hurrying to leave at Valen's insistence. Whoever these men making their way to the village were, they were dangerous and came bearing Murder in their hearts.

"And it is my mother they seek. A woman dead for years now. They will kill, burn, and murder all in their wake for a chance at revenge against a dead woman..."

He tried to purge the thoughts from his mind. The people of the Dales were strong and would find new lives, just as he and his family would. Once settled he could resume training in his new vocation and...


A sound pricked his sensitive ears: the unmistakable sound of arrow shafts, heads sticking into wood, metal, and flesh. One tore through the canvas surrounding him, narrowly missing Miriam by a finger length. "Get down!" He cried, throwing himself to the floor of the wagon while he fished around beneath the seat for his bow and quiver. Once he had them, he leaped from the back of the wagon to behold a scene of utter chaos. The soldiers protecting the caravan were under attack by brigands, and they were quickly losing the battle. Nearby a woman cradled a dying soldier, desperately trying to stop the flow of blood from an arrow wound.

"Too late girl. Save yourself"

He had no time to speak the words that were in his mind, as he noticed attackers turning his way. He began to act on instinct, notching an arrow and letting fly at one of the attackers. Then another, then another...
It was no good. The attackers were too many. "Miriam! Aidan! Get out of here! Make for the woods!" He saw Miriam exit the wagon, turning with her arms extended to help their son...then there was a flash of motion. Venrik's heart stopped. Surely he was seeing things...but the look of horror on Miriam's face was not an illusion as she pulled the limp body from the wagon, an arrow protruding from the boy's chest, a trickle of blood beginning to run from his mouth. She cried out, cradling the dying child, her face a sick mosaic of horror and anguish. Venrik's legs would not move, he could only stand there as his mind processed the horror before him. Then his ears heard footfalls...and he turned in time to narrowly avoid a sword stroke from one of the attackers. He wrestled with the man, falling to the ground, the man's sword falling from his hand as he fell. Without thinking Venrik drew his knife and drove it into the man's chest, his last words a gargled and bloody cry.

He staggered to his feet, retrieving his bow, spinning around looking for his wife. She still knelt by the wagon, cradling Aidan's body in her arms, her face covered in tears. He had to get to her, had to get her out...both of them. His boy wasn't dead. He couldn't...

Then he saw the rider and tried to cry out, but the spear was faster, its head sinking into Miriam's back and emerging an instant later from her chest. Her tear covered face contorted in agony, then nothing as she slumped over dead atop their son. Venrik's head began to spin, he felt ready to vomit.

"No....Lady no this must be a nightmare..."

He tried to go to them, the only thing mattering anymore to sink a blade in the heart of their killers...then a hand grabbed him. In the back of his mind he recognized the woman who had previously been kneeling over the dying soldier. She was screaming orders to people, leading them away. His heart and mind wanted to stay, but his legs obeyed the woman's orders, fleeing into the wilderness, leaving the shattered remains of his life behind.

(Image from this guy. Figure I should plug him since I'm shamelessly stealing his picture. )
(Portrait version: venrik_portrait.zip (287.07 KB))

[Blazingshadowz]

Tâlrenduil Simelas

Race: Elf (Wood Elf)

Age: 127

Background: (Edited)

As a once reclusive man, he had lived in the High Forest with his wood elven brethren. Living a rather repetitive life style in the woods, he had grown impatient, and disatasfied with the course of his life. A group of adventurers would loudly pass through these dense woods, would often be seen once or twice, then never to be seen again, and they were often scolded by his older brother, for being foolish and silly to go into lands that they knew nothing about. Though this struck a curiousity in Tâlrenduil that had grown larger at each passing day. A longing to travel, learning of the world, and others had taken a sure grip on his heart to the point where it drove him to madness, deciding to leave without word in the night, fearing of causing trouble for his family, he failed to see the irony that night, as he took off and started anew, leaving everything behind.

Alone, he had not fared well. Not prepared for the journey, he eventually felt he could not continue, realizing his foolishness, as an elder man stumbled across him, and guided him to a secluded grove, home to the hermit, and several others whom he would call a family for several years. He learned about the balance of nature, life and death, harmony, and many tongues to help him communicate and survive. Revitalized by this new teaching, he had carried on to become a druid. Eventually becoming capable of using the magics provided by the earth itself. These teachings were fresh on his mind, and he had all the intentions in the world to prove himself worthy of this second chance. Though guilty of using his new found gift as a stepping stone to greater desires, he was swift to leave the grove. His mentor, the hermit, Grendyl, had entrusted him with a personal task, leaving him with a sealed note. Asking him to not open this for himself, and instead to give it to a woman named Scylla, whom lived in a small village near the meeting of Cormyr and Sembia.

During his travel to Cormyr, Tâlrenduil stumbled across an injured falcon. A young bird, of a strong species of falcon, sporting black feathers, and a massive wing span and fearsome talons when mature. Pitying the creature, he braught it along with him, nursing it back to proper health. After several long nights of travel, he set up camp, and tried once more to see if the young bird was able to fly again. The bird ruffled it's feathers, and moved its wings, some, as if the creature had doubt. With Tâlrenduil's support, the bird took off, and was restored to its former glory. Smiling, he watched the bird fly deep into the sky, and to disappear into the night. He grew a sad expression for a moment, as the bird left him, and he turned his gaze to his campfire. After the night had passed, he had disassembled his camp, and set out again for more travel, to his suprise, being greeted by a loud screech, the black hawk soared down to him, and landed upon his shoulder, signaling the start of a deep connection of care and companionship between the two.


Traveling with some purpose, he was more successful this time around, though never had many difficulties, beside foraging for food, and wearing uncomfortable, old boots. He arrived after many moons of travel. Arriving in the morning, he was greeted by a silence from the town, but a singing of many birds by the treeline. Several hours later, people started pouring out of their small abodes, finally rising for the day. There was an unsettling silence that took place among the village, as Tâlrenduil asked for the woman named Scylla. Seeming to have troubles of finding her whereabouts, the townsfolk either claimed to know nothing, or simply told him that he would have no luck looking for this woman here, leaving him dissatasfied, and curious. Would he give in and open the note for himself soon?

The Caravan Attack: (New. Feel free to have your character interact with mine in this moment! Will update)

He had a lot on his mind. Heavily pondering about the note, its contents, and who the woman Scylla was. His mentor had not explained who she was, and promised it would become clear in time. Keeping to himself, he silently walked along with the crowd of people, and the purple dragons. His mind finally snapping to attention, as he realized a woman kneeling infront of him, her hands becoming red from blood, as she tried to pressure a fatal wound on a soldier. He was stunned by this, and his stomach turned, beginning to feel an acidic taste in the back of his throat, accompanied by the intense unsettling feeling in his gut. People around him rushed in all directions, it seemed, those dressed in purple moving to intercept their sudden attackers.

Though armed with a hunting bow, he dared not use it at the moment, in too much of a shock to realize the dire need of service he required from his weapon. He stumbled to the back of the caravan, his head spinning, he grasped his side, moving over towards a sudden rallying call of a woman, just infront of him several yards, he finally got a hold of himself. A familiar screech of his companion arose from the skies, and directed his gaze to spot his winged friend flying directly towards him. A sudden force pushing him onto his back, he found himself fighting an armed man off of him, struggling to bind his arms with pure strength to avoid being skewered by his blade.

Someone running by had smacked into the blunt of the attackers blade, sending it out of his grip, and just beside the two. Tâlrenduil summoned the strength to shove him off, to free himself, scurrying to his feet, another scream adding to the chaos. As he glanced towards the marauder, who was currently having his face assaulted by the talons of a black winged bird. Kicking away the blade, and then running to catch up with a group of people leaving for the woods.

Physical Description:

Tanned skin and auburn hair, Tâlrenduil has a stronger figure than most elves, though still posses the charismatic grace of tel'quissir. He holds a small copper amulate about his neck that depicts an arrow with green fletchings that are starting to wear off, from age likely. He has two tattoos on his face, one right below his bottom lip and ending at his chin, and another that is present on his forehead, three thick lines that extend from right above his eyebrows to his hairline. His features are exclusively sharp, slender and narrow, specially his eyes. The tips of his ears and his nose are often reddish as if struck by a permanent illness. Infact, despite having some toned muscles, he seems rather fickle in terms of stamina, as if born simply weaker than average. His hair is shoulder length, and is usually pulled back out of his face, keeping his face clean and clear of hair. He usually keeps one braid in his hair that has a feather tied to the end of it.

[Deleted]

Lilith of Blackfeather Bridge

Part 1-- Her 15th birthday

It was the largest crowd Lilith had ever seen, well maybe accepting the harvest festival. Everyone was laughing and clapping. All too soon it ended. She took the three coppers, just as Hendrick had told her, and dropped them into the jugglers hat. Everyone must have done the same, the hat was almost full, and she even saw some silver. It was more money than she had ever seen. She thought to herself, "Just because it yer birthday, is no reason to expect dinner to cook itself." It was not really her birthday, but rather it was 13 years ago on this day that her mother came to Hendrick, so not knowing the true day, this anniversary became her birthday.

She turns to walk home, but only took a few steps, when Seth over took her and grasped her hand. She had not seen him since last fall, as he lived on his fathers farm, well east of town. He was 3 years older than her, and taller than she remembered. He stared into her bright green eyes, and she felt her heart beat faster, and the heat of it warming her face. "Well," she said, "did you want to speak to me Seth?" He started to speak, but the words would not come out, and before he could start again, a wild cat screamed.

Not a wild cat, but Faith came running to them, screaming and slapped her hand from his. Faith was a few years older than her, and they had never got on well, but now Faith seemed to tower over her. Her screams continued, piercing, and now formed in to words. "Keep your hands off him, he shall not suffer thy evil spell, demon spawn, thee are no better than thy mother, all she touched burned, all she loved is ash and ye shall not burn MY Seth," she spoke on and on, repeating the vile things about her mother. Lilith had heard the rumors that her mother had been driven from town, many years ago, after burning down several building, but Hendrick would never speak on it. Her heart beat faster, and it seemed that the whole town was standing around, pointing, whispering.

Now Lilith screamed, "NO!" She swung her fist, connecting with Faith's belly. The swing had no art behind it, but for many years Lilith had helped Hendrick in the forge, first gathering wood, making charcoal; later moving ore; always endlessly working the bellows, and now her rage focused all her strength in her punch. The air rush from Faith's body with short whoose, and her body seemed to lift a foot off the ground, then her face turned white and she collapsed on the ground. Silence fell over the square, as everyone froze. Lilith, turned and ran into the gathering dusk.

.....

Some time later her face pressed into Hendrick's smoky leather apron, she sobs, "I have done something terrible." Hendrick, the only father she had every known, is a big, bear of a man, strong as iron from many years shaping that metal in to horseshoes and tools. She squeezed him tight and feels a bit better. He stepped back and wiping the tears from her face said, "This won't due, dear Lilly, tis nay right to shed tears on thy 15th birthday. What has happen?" It takes some time for her to tell the story, while he listens he strokes her hair calming her. When her words run out, he takes her hand and leads her to a chair. She sit and he kneels next to her, then speaks, "I am sorry my flower, for true I wish I could tell thee more about yer mum, but I knew her for only a ten day. Still I knew her better than anyone here, and to mine eye she was more angel than demon. She knew she could not give thee a stable home, and thank the gods she charged me with that task. She was a strong women, and so shall thee be and sooner than thee might think. When thee think back upon this day, remember that much in this world is not what is seems, and each person puts a good bit of themselves into how they see it."

Hendrick stands and goes to his workshop, only short moment later her returns, a leather sack in his hand. "When your mother left she gave me this pouch, but then it was filled with gold-- our life has been easy because of her." Lilith takes the pouch, the green dyed leather is smooth in her hand. She opens it to find a single gold coin, which she draws out and hold up to the light. Hendrick says, "Feel the weight of it, tis nay like the coins of today, but old, of pure gold, do not let it go for even 5 gold coins of today. Not that you would, tis all we have left of thy mother." The fire light glints off the old coin, and Lilith sees a lion on the face.


Part 2 Jade the Juggler

Again Lilith is crying. She watches as her barn goes up in flames. All three horses come out but not Hendrick. Now the workshop catches fire, and the roof of the barn collapses. She stares into the fire. How could this have happened. She knows fire, intimately. As long as she can remember she has drawn the greatest heat from the forge, while Hendrick shaped the metal. This could not be accident. As she stares into the leaping flames her mind goes blank, even while the tears continue to stream down her face. After a time, she could not say how long, a clear thought come to her. "I will be blamed for this." The hurtful words of Faith echo again in her mind. "I should have died in the flames with Hendrick," she thinks to her self, then, "Who shall know that I did not?" She looks around, and still not a single town folk has come to help, nor to relish her misfortune. Her tears have stopped now, and she takes to the south road at a jog, with only the dress on her back, and her mothers green pouch.

....

Jade the Juggler rose with the sun, which was his habit. He stirs last night fire, and finds a few, small coals still glow. He applies his breath, and the twigs he has handy, then the tea kettle already filled and waiting, also his habit. Before the kettle can whistle he spies a young human, a girl, with hair like midnight walking boldly to his camp. "Fair morning to ye, can you see that tall grove of pine on top of the hill just over us." He says while feeding the fire. "I do." she says. "Then climb up there and see if any blueberries are growing, and ripe." he says with out meeting her eye.

Later, each filled with blueberry griddle cakes, he looks her over. "You follow me, would you let me know the reason?" he asks. "I wish to learn to juggle." she says, looking down at her empty plate. Jade thinks for a moment then says "Tis no easy life, but I will teach thee, if you are willing to pay the price." She nods, "I am willing." "The price is 3 pieces of gold and three years of service." Lilith considers her empty pouch, then says, "I can pledge the years, but I dare not to part with the gold." A lengthy negotiations follows. In the end she pledges her mothers gold lion, as security for her service, forfeit if she fails, and to be returned if she fulfills her pledge. He smiles pleased with his new apprentice, and says, "What is thy name child?" She thinks of the birds, singing so joyfully this morning while she picked the blueberries, and says, "My name is Lilith Starling."

Her grief passes quickly, as she settles into her new life. Instead of gathering wood for the forge, she gathers wood for the cook fire; instead of cooking for Hendrick, she cooks for Jade. But her new life contains new challenges. She learns to carve wooden balls, and to make bright dyes to color them. She learns to sing funny songs, and some old classics. In the long hours that they travel in the wagon from village to village, she learns to read, first the common words, then Hin, as most of Jade's books are in his native language. He carves her a flute, and teaches her to play, and in time she begins to play while he juggles, or when he tells the great old stories. She notices, that once he has the audiences attention, he sometimes slows his speech, talks softer, and somehow draws their attention even tighter to him. But she can not seem to learn to juggle.

Tis not from lack of trying, for she desires it, and spend endless hours with the wooden balls. Well she can juggle better than you can-- keeping 3 balls aloft for 20 minutes, but Jade can juggle 5 daggers and walk and tell stories at the same time. Ever on her mind is should she fail, her mothers golden lion is forfeit. One day, well into her second year, she begins a common conversation, but this time with a different approach. "Jade, do you ever fear that you shall never find someone worthy of learning your great skill at juggling daggers?" He frowns but says, "I have not considered it." She leans closer and speaks softly, "Never?" "Well maybe it has crossed my mind." She then speaks slower ,"Tis true that I am not the best juggler, but would it not be a shame to let thy great knowledge of juggling cease when you cease to juggle?" The next day he gives her 3 throwing daggers and shows her how to juggle them. She never learns to juggle daggers well enough to perform, but she carries many little scars on her hands from her endless attempts.

By this time Lilith has grown into a woman, tall and lean, and beautiful from every angle, and they begin to prosper. Her songs draw more attention than his juggling. They play bigger towns, and fancier taverns. A week before the 3 years ends Jade the Juggler stand beside his wagon. "Lilith," he says, "my path lies north, but the time has come for thee to choose your own path." She seems confused, "What do you mean master Jade?" He climbs up on the wagon so he can look into her eyes, "I know you have heard the rumors, the winds of war shall soon blow on Sembia, and before they do we should be gone." He hands her a small bag, it is heavy in her hand. "I can teach thee no more, thy pledge is fulfilled. You are free to walk as you will." She leans close and kisses him on the cheek, "Thanks you Jade, someday, I will find an apprentice of my own, and I will teach him to juggle."

Physical Description:

From every angle Lilith is beautiful-- Tall and lean, she has an athletic build with long dark hair, black as night, and with natural curls that frame her face, which contrasts her fair, smooth skin, and striking green eyes. Should you meet her gaze her eyes might appear, strangely, almost yellow. She moves confidently, and her voice is rich and melodic, and somehow soothing.

[bentusi16]

Dhananjay Foundson

Race: Human

Age: 24

Background: Orphaned at a young age, with no idea what his surname is and only his first name known, Dhananjay grew up on the streets of Westgate. Not as tough or as agile as some of the other urchins, he showed an early intelligence and charm that led him to the life of the fence and accounts man as the years went on, though he did participate in the occasional burglary or theft, usually as a planner.

It was all going fairly well up until the deal of a lifetime came by. Help organize a robbery of an estate and hand a seemingly useless item over to the buyer for his own weight in gold.

Afterwards, he ended up fleeing as quickly as he could, smuggling himself onto the first boat he could find and ending up in Sembia. He went over the border to Azouns Hold and there began to rebuild his career as a fence, then the Sembians invaded. War was always bad for business.

Physical description:

Dhananjay is a swarthy man of eastern appearance, but rather then being one of the fair skinned 'Shou Long', he seems to hail from further south. His hair is dark, is skin is dark, and his eyes are dark. He's of average height and build.

[perspicacity]

"Poor lass, lookit here, yonder. That hair'd be pretty if'n she didn't let it knot up like a rat nest." Daisy Winterstone said through her sixteen remaining teeth, looking up momentarily from her knitting. Don't reckon she'll ever find no husband a-lookin' like that, an all taller'n the boys......"

"Don't reckon she want one." Mildred Umpher, Daisy's knitting companion replied, thinking once more how ill-suited the name 'Daisy' was for two-hundred and twenty pound, sixty-five year-old porch's owner. "An' her looks is tha least o' her worries. Y' heard about young Wig Thatcher, 'eya? She tol' him he was gon' die by drownin'." Mildred tsked faintly, giving her head a long, rueful shake. "An' sure enough, two weeks later, Wig trips an' falls in 'at trough. Now, eh, some folks be thinkin' she a witch. Bein' an orphan an' always bein' at tha elbow o' ol' Donner sure ain't help, too."

"Who's t' say she ain'?" Daisy ripostes, with a wiggle of multitudinous chins. Daisy added her own head shake, setting more flesh into motion.

"Feh!" Mildred replies, lifting a watch cap in hand to give it a critical look. "One happenstance ain't enough t' convict a poor lass t' shunnin'. Done be an orphan.... Why, Dais, 'tis pity tha lass deserves, not scorn. I'd try an' help her meself but Kendrick'd have a cow. Dern fool's as superstitious as they come. Y' know, one day last week he refused t' get outta bed tha whole day 'cause he put his ~left~ foot on tha floor first......"

Head-hanging down, cowled in ratty tangles of washed-out red hair, Gertrude Harlaw pretended, per usual, not to hear the old hen's chatter. She kept marching on, clutching a bundle of battered books against her shapeless chest. She screwed up her face, trying to wrest a vision from her mind, but futiley. The tall, gangly young woman nearly collided with a fence post, the vision of Mildred Umpher, dead and glassy-eyed, sitting upon a privvy dominating her senses.





/// Placeholder and beginning, more to come.

[Kelitayu]

*Nersa hands a copy of this to each member of the refugees*

Having Image woes, here’s a direct link - ((  i1363.photobucket.com/albums/r703/Keuhhwhat/Tactics01_zps52b84c30.jpg  ))

Key:
Red Knight - Nersa Millstone (First Barrier)
Red Bishop - Venrik Morris (Second Barrier)
Red Rook - Dhanajay Foundson (Flank Attacker)
Red Queen - Lilith Starling (Third Barrier)
Red King - Gertrude Harlaw (To be Protected)

Dark Pawn – Hostile Soldier
Dark King – Hostile Magician (High Priority)

Tactic:
This will be our standard response to a sizable hostile force such as orcs, bugbears, goblins ect.
Nersa will take the front line and engage the majority if not all of the hostiles, holding as many in place as possible. Ideally utilizing choke points where possible.
The rest of the party will utilize ranged weapons and magic, prioritize hostile magicians first.
Hostiles that get past Nersa will be intercepted by Venrik.
Hostiles that get past Venrik can be intercepted by Lilith however if too many get by then Lilith and Gertrude must fall back or pull the enemies back around to Venrik or Nersa. Use your best judgment.
Dhan will flank enemies held by Venrik and Lilith. If he is directly engaged then he should pull back. Dhan must not allow himself to enter into an exchange of blows with hostiles if he can help it, leave that to those with heavy armor and defensive training.
Once all hostiles are dealt with the party can move up to the main line and help finish off hostiles held by Nersa.

Be cautious of using heroics, of course try your best to help in the event that a brother or sister is gravely wounded but also ensure that you do not throw your own life away in the process.

[Kelitayu]

*Nersa gets a copy of this note to each member of the Refugees*

Our journey has been long and difficult and we have faced many dangers that this world has to offer. Only through unity and loyalty to each other have we managed to survive and it is my hope that our bond continues to grow and strengthen with time. We have known victory and defeat, through light and darkness we have pushed on and remained true to each other. Our roots are humble and we must never forget that series of events that brought us together. Our bond was forged in blood and fire and we have all bled together.

We have improved and grown much. We are a capable, unified group and I want us to aim high and build a reputation and standing in Cormyr. I want us to start thinking of a more suitable name for our group, a name that in time people and organizations can call upon in times of need. Adventurers and mercenaries are one in the same, we perform jobs and tasks and reap the rewards for our efforts. This is the path before us for the foreseeable future. There is much competition in Cormyr and reputation is important. When trouble comes, I want our names to be on the lips of the desperate.

So, give it some thought and present your ideas at our next gathering and we will put it up to vote. Party, group, order, brotherhood.. what ever you consider us to be, we need a title that is worthy of us.



OOC - Just give it some thought and jot down some ideas and we can have an IC discussion next Saturday! xxx

[Deleted]

Lilith Starling has been seen in many cities and towns across the forest kingdom in the past few weeks. Everywhere she goes she has a wink and a smile for any young men she meets. With any that seem vulnerable to her charms she spends a fair amount to time chatting and perhaps singing them a song, or telling them a tale of the recent war. She never fails to mention how much she would like to see her old friend, Natharto, the now retired wizard. She describes him in detail, sometimes dwelling over long on his distinguished mustache. Without say it directly, nor promising any reward, most of the young men get the impression that she would greatly favor anyone who gets word to Natharto to contact her at the Tipsy Imp. So far she has received more that a few love letters, and small gifts, but no word of Natharto.

She also visits every shop and merchant in each city, spending most of her time looking at jewelry and fancy boots. She never passes any book shop, library, nor magic shop with out speaking to the owner about her dear friend Gertrude Harlaw. Some of the merchants, less naive than the young men, might resist her charms, in which case she would pass them a few coins after asking them to get a message to Gertrude.

// pms sent

[Deleted]

The Story of Lilith's Armor.

Part 1.. One moon after Lilith comes to Cormyr.

Lilith paces back and forth, frowning, she eyes the north gate of Great Gaunt. Softly she says, "What are you worrying about? You went that way once before, and road is clearly marked." She takes a deep breath and passes thru the gate, of course last time she had all her friends along, this time she walks alone. "Not like I can get lost," she whispers and starts off. She eyes the hills nervously, walking slowly, and remembers hearing that orcs hunt here. Her knuckles whiten around the grip of Dilbert's old saber, and as she raises his tiny buckler higher, she hears Nersa's voice in her head, praising the virtues of plate mail, and chiding her for wearing a dress on her adventures. A tear comes to her eye and she thinks, "If Nears is willing to die to keep me safe, how can I deny her single request? Hmm, if she request the same thing a dozen times does that count as a single request?"

Then she remembers the chain shirt the smith in Great Gaunt showed her. It was more of a metal potato sack, than an outfit. Heavy chains covered every inch of her, from neck to hips, flattening and obscuring her generous curves. She would turn no heads dressed like that. A bird chirps a happy song, breaking her thoughts, and she looks up to see the walls of Valkurs Roar. She whistles back the bird call and hurries to the gates.

Yuppa's shop is empty when she enters, and she spends a few minutes eyeing some of the fine dresses on display, then sighs. Yuppa appears from the back room and says, "Ahh, a customer! *coughs* What can I do for you?" "Oh, well I was told I need more 'practical' attire," Lilith replies. "Why, that's a perfectly practical dress," says Yuppa, as her eye takes in the lines of her dress, then "Well, I should ask ... for what purpose?" Lilith nods and says, "*Thank you... well my friend have a habit of visiting unsafe places, and sometime I have to fight." Then with a stomp of her foot, Lilith continues loudly, "But I don't wish to look like a man!"

Yuppa replies with a slight frown, "Well, I don't really approve of such, I usually sell more to the dancing and party crowd than adventurers dear. But, it would be a shame if something happened to you. I do have a bit of used chain that might suit you. I don't really sell such here, but an associate came by it." Lilith says as a smile lights up her face, "Well chain was what they insisted I needed, could you show it to me please?" Yuppa ducks into the back room as she says, "Oh, what a pleasant happenstance!"

It is only a moment later when Yuppa returns from her back room, but it seems much longer to Lilith. Yuppa holds up a small shirt of fine chain links, made from some dark metal with a blue cast. Lilith's eyes light up, as she reaches out and touches the chain. It seems very light, and moves more like fabric than metal. Yuppa says, "I had been wondering what to do with it for some while," and holds it up against Lilith's chest. A smile light up Lilith's face as she look in the mirror. Then she says, "Oh.. that is so very nice, much better than I had hoped for... I fear I can not afford it, but..." Yuppa says, "Perhaps not ... but I would hate to sell it to that slimy merchant Greel." Then Yuppa smiles and says, "And you are a charming lass, I would hate for something to happen to you, while this sits on a shelf."

Yuppa clears her throat, and names a price which is surprisingly reasonable. Lilith smiles, and says, "I am certain that is a very good price, but that is almost everything I have." Lilith chews her lower lip as she considers, thinking about how she will look in such delicate and beautiful armor, and Nersa's expression when she see it. Then, "Well, I don't care if I must sing for my supper.. I must have it." Before she can think on it further, her purse is all but empty and she is modeling the armor for Yuppa. "Oh yes that will get them talking alright," Yuppa says with a smile. Lilith twirls around, very pleased with the way the light chain seems to accent her bust, rather than flatten it, then says, "It is everything I could have hoped.. and more thank you."


-------------------------------------------------------


Part 2 takes place several months later, in a private suite of the Regal Griffin.



The old man leans, comfortably near the fire. "Ash" he says, "The drafts here, horrible." He moves to the open door, glancing at Lilanne, standing just outside the door, who smiles briefly. "Is she with you as well?"



Nersa stands along the wall, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword, watching the old mans every move. Nodding, Nersa says, "She is with us."



Lilith looks around the room, taking in the luxurious furnishing, and paying close attention to the full length mirror along one wall. Looking up at the old mans question, she says, "Why not?" and waves Lilanne in.



Nodding to Lilanne, the old man says, "Come in, the cold air is getting in." She comes in saying, "I was merely curious, though, since I am invited, might as well." He closes the door behind her, and walks back to his place by the fire, where he leans contently, with his arms folded.



"I am Natharto once of other titles and names as well, but now I am retired. Still, I remember many of the things I have seen." says the old man and then he points a finger at LIlith's chest. "This chain armor is at least a hundred years old - I wasn't there for the making of it, but an elven friend of mine did the work."



The group, spread out around the room, all react to this news. Dhan, looks up forgetting the knife in his hand, that he was using to slice a bit of cheese. Nersa, still standing against the wall, only frowns slightly. Gertrude, having settled into the corner, raises a ginger eyebrow. Lilith, her eyes wide, says "I got rather a better price than I imagined." The newcomer, Lilanne's face alternates between puzzled and surprised.



"It was forged and enchanted for his wife", says Natharto then pauses a moment and tilts his head. "What was her name ...Ahh yes! Avalia." He smiles at the memory, then continues, "Avalia was a fine woman, one of the Ar'Tel'Quessir, like Evensal The Builder as he was called. The chain shirt was a gift for their one hundredth wedding anniversary. So they'd be married about 220 years now, if they were both still alive." He pauses, frowning a bit.



Dhananjay interjects, "Ar'Tel'...one of the uh, sun-ones?" The old man nods and says, "Yes, that's right. The sun or gold elves. I had not thought to see it again, as perhaps ... 30 ... 40 years ago, Avalia was taken in a raid, by their dark cousins that live beneath the earth." Crossing his arms Natharto continues, "Her fate was unknown, but there were no good alternatives. Evensal likely still searches for any sign of her. Still, it gives me some pleasure to see the shirt above the earth once more. I should like to hear of where you purchased it and such, but there is a little bit more."



Dhan says, "Dark ones eh?", as he rubs his chin. Lilanne, from the back of the room, mumbles something under her breath. Nersa, glances at everyone in the room, but mostly her gaze alternates between Lilith and Natharto. Gertrude gently offers, "Perhaps you'd be so kind as to illuminate this Avalia's character briefly? Lilith might find it interesting to know something of the previous owner's ... disposition?" Lilith glances to Gertrude's corner and nods, then quickly returns her eyes to Natharto.



Natharto nods to Gertrude and says, "Ahh, a fine idea. Avalia was a cheerful and vivacious woman, but also kind. The gold elves are not the most known for, ahh, mingling with humans and such, even wizards. But she was always friendly to me. She was a singer and a player of the lute and violin. To see her fight was to see dancing with steel, one had to not look too closely or become enraptured." The old wizard chuckles.



"I found it at Yuppa's dress shop," Lilith interjected, "she had it in the back room for a time, all I know is she had taken it in trade." Then Natharto says, "Yuppa's hmm. The

clothing store in Valkur's Roar is it?" Lilith, nodding replies, "Yes, I rather like that shop, and Yuppa is very kind." "I will go speak to her then." says the old man, then strokes his mustache with a single finger. "Well, its likely gone through quite a number of owners, is it damaged in any way? Or seem to have been repaired?" Lilith finally looks away and says, "I have some knowledge of metal and did not notice any repairs, but Nersa would know better about that." She turns to Nersa.



Nersa meets her gaze a moment then looks at the wizard, "Lilith is safe, yes? No one would wish her harm or make a point to steal this from her, hm?" Natharto replies " Ahh, I can't say for sure that no one would want it, if Evensal found you, he might. He did make it for his wife. But he would not try and assault you for it. And who knows what other hands have possessed it since?" Nersa frowns faintly, folds her arms, "Mhm, where would Evensal be now? He is far away from here?"



"You were not with them, then, when they were taken, as you say?", Gertrude queries, her gaze still downcast, tangled reddish curls spilling across her face. Natharto shaking his head, "I was not." Then turning to Nersa, "And Evensal, I cannot say where, but he is oft looking for drow to find some hint of his lost wife, or revenge himself. The chain itself also offers some dangers, if improperly used, but likely you know none of the keywords in any case."



Lilith's eyes grow wide for a moment, then she speaks sharply at first, "Natharto." She waits until his eyes turn to meet hers, then continues softly, with a small smile, "Would it not be safer for all if I knew more of the dangers?" Gertrude nods absently, still looking down as she listens. Natharto says with a nod, "Well, don't speak elven words to it then.



"Come a little closer." he says to Lilith. She is only a few feet away but takes two quick steps to him. He takes out a small magnifying class and inspects the chains minutely. Dhananjay says, "I don't know if Lilly -can- speak elf. Can you?" Gertrude lifts her chin slowly, gazing toward Natharto. Nersa rubs her chin thoughtfully, then speaks, "Is this man a wizard? A warrior? Is he rich? Does he have soldiers, mercenaries?"



Lilith stands still, silent, her eyes never leaving the wizards face. He continues his inspection for several long minutes, only twice making a small sound, "Hmmm." Neither one seem to notice the others are still watching.



Nersa says, "I've a wealth of questions.. but.. they can wait..", her voice trails off. Lilanne briefly glances about the room to the others, looking upon them with eyes prying for answers. Then a long silence descends on the room.



Natharto looks up and coughs eventually. "Ahh, it does appear undamaged, but some of the gems that were inset on it and enchanted are missing." Lilith says, "Dose that lessen the danger of using it?" He replies, "It does, you are likely completely safe then, as the keywords would not help without those, but lessen its efficacy as well. If you can find a few suitable sapphires, you may be able to restore it."



Dhan says, "Well, I think it's only fair that we find the husband eh?" He glances to Nersa who replies, "Why would we want to go looking for trouble, Dhan?" Dhan says, "I think it's morally ya know.. what's the word...Correct I suppose." Lilith glances quickly at Dhan then hold her hand up palm facing towards him. The old wizard says, "He is, ahh, a wizard and fencer. He was always more of a wizard, but he has had many years to hone both. Nersa says, "I at least want to know how he'll react. Lilith said she doesn't want to part with it. I can see that encounter ending badly if he's powerful, or has an army at his back. How powerful is he?"



Natharto says, "Again, I think he would be happy to find a trace of her more than angry that you have it, perhaps he might try to grill you for information about it." Nersa nods, " Mhm, I still have a bad feeling, I expect he'd want it back." "He might," says the wizard, "he does have some claim to it."



Lilith asks, "Are not the sun elves good natured?" Natharto responds, "And yet also very stubborn at times, of course they are not the only ones like that. They can be, ahh, regal and look down on others to some degree." Then Lilith asks, "If I could find suitable gems, what would be the next step to repair it?" He answers, " With a pair of suitable sapphires, I would be willing to help you restore it, or assist others in the right spells, if you would prefer." He glances over to Gertrude. Dhan says, "I'll keep my eye pealed for sapphires." Gertrude offers softly. "Your sentiment does you credit. And while I've no experience with such, I'd easily and readily contribute what meager skills and knowledge I do possess." The wizard says, "We can speak of that later."



Natharto smiles, "Seeing her armor worn and used brightens my day. I had thought it lost to the depths." Lilith asks, "Is their anything else we should know?" With a shake of his head, "If there are no gems inset, then you are safe for the moment. Now, I wish you luck. I had best finish my mulled wine, if it hasn't been tossed out and take a nap." He yawns and says, "Unless you have any last questions?"



Lilith says, "Well, I stand in your debt for the story of my armor, if ever I can return a favor, I hope you shall remember." Then she leans over and kisses him lightly on the cheek. He chuckles at this gesture, "Do be careful out there. Lady Luck go with you."