ATC Predallen Characters

Starting Races

Race Relations: Elves
Elves, like most long lived races, tend to think and plan in the long term, but this does not mean everyone of the race and individual involved. The Elven race loves their traditions and ceremonies! This serves a number of functions, first it keeps a common language and culture between the Elven groups no matter how far apart they might live. There is very little if any language differences from a clan that is a close neighbor or many miles away. They idea of a war between Elf's is extremely rare!! Of course there are small conflicts that tend to linger for a very long time but do not tend to end in large fights. And oh boy, elves can carry a grudge for generations! Another benefit to this is it tends to drive the younger elves crazy to deal with all the culture and other things that the young consider BS, :) The elders know that with the years they tend to spend more time within themselves studying, meditating, etc., and become more withdrawn from world affairs. By sending out the younger ones they keep in touch with the world and events and do not completely lose contact with world events.
The stories of Elves being gifted in the arts and crafts is not true with the young ones. The elders try to teach them but the younger ones tend to rebel perhaps afraid of becoming like their elders. As they get older Elves seem drawn to study and the arts; it is very hard to find a better craftsmen than an Elf that has spent years studying and working at something they have gained a great interest in. At what time a younger one starts to become like a elder seems to be different with each Elf.

The myth that Elves are slow breeding was perhaps started by the Elf's themselves to make the other races less nervous about the Elven race. They can give birth at a very late age in life if need be to continue a blood line. But as they get older the idea of losing time and energy raising a young one seems to be great waste of effort and that is why they seldom do. If they do give birth late in life the child is mostly raised by younger elves perhaps hardly ever seeing their true parents for long lengths of time depending on how old the parents are. The Elves seem to have a high attrition rate with the young Elves that go out and explore the world,and this does not seem to bother them to outside of their culture! What they think about this is unknown.

There is a Myth that somewhere great elders live to an incredible age!! The death of an elder is a big event within the city or clan, with great pomp and ceremony that could last weeks.

Humans - Elves tend to feel sorry for these short-lived beings, but the younger ones have been known at times to bind with a human or a human group. The older they get the more the pity they feel for these poor beings. The race's short sighted actions are seen as a danger to the elves, and it is not uncommon for accidents to happen to human settlements living to close to Elven areas. But over all they tend to understand that each band of humans need to be understood as a separate group not judged as one; there are good ones and bad ones :)

Dwarfs - They frustrate the Elven race, unlike the Elders in the Elven race the older Dwarf's do not mellow with age but keep their passion like humans do. This leads to conflict with Elves and other races, and also other Dwarves as well. They admire the Dwarves skill at long term planning but do not understand when they can toss it all to the wind in a moment of passion. Very confusing for the Elders!

Elf culture
As for game play the 3 cultures of the elven race have no effects on the abilities, or stats. It does effects looks, skills etc.. The physical description applies for the majority of that culture but there has been enough cross breeding that there is a fair number that have lost some more outstanding physical features. That does not stop an elf knowing at a glance if someone has a certain blood line. It is not certain even to the elves if they are becoming more alike or if they are starting to become 3 separate races.

High elves
The High elves are easy to spot since they tend to have a smaller frame than the other 2 and have a thin almost fragile look to them. And since both sexes tend to dress the same for occasions, and with the males looking a little feminine there has been more than one occasion when a non-elf has mistaken a male high elf for a female. They have a fair complexion with hair color ranging all the rainbow since they are not shy about coloring their hair what humans would think are gaudy colors. The High elves are known for outstanding craftsmanship in all forms, in fact their own kind tend to make fun of them with their tendency to overdecorate all of their works. Even everyday items are done with a little art work on them, things from fishing boats to eating utensils. They love working with water in all its forms and you will find fountains, ponds and small bodies of water throughout all of the High elves cities. There is one thing most beings will not make fun of is the outstanding ships the High elves build. The are not only beautiful, sleek looking they are the fastest, most agile ships on the waters loaded with range weapons, High elves do not board unless the other side has surrendered!

Wood elves
Wood elf's are simple to explain, just picture the elves from the Lord of the Rings movies. They seem to be the largest group of elves and of the 3 are the more outgoing and more willing to spend time with non-elves. Odds are if you meet a colony of elves they are wood elves.

Gray Elves
The Gray elves could pass as wood elves from a distance, but when you get up close you see features that make a Gray Elf stand out from the wood elf. They tend to have odd eye colors and their skin complexion is a little off, perhaps a tint of other colors that is noticed close up or in bright light. The rumor is the Gray elf line comes from a group that bred with fairies and sprites and other such woodland creatures long ago. If you mention this to a Dwarf most of the time they will tell you a randy and explicit story about elves and satyrs. The story does not so much explain the Gray Elf as make you worry about the Dwarves! The Gray elves alongside the druids are this world's Ecodefenders, protecting nature from abuse by the other races. Part of the mystique of the Gray elves is that it is claimed that they could be the most numerous of the elven kind, but scattered around the world in small pockets living with and bonding with nature "mating with fairies folk, etc.." Watching over and defending the environment in the world.

Race Relations: Dwarves

The Dwarves tend to behave more like humans when it comes to their emotions and behavior than the Elven race, which would explain the constant "almost always" minor conflicts between Elves and Dwarves. Also between Dwarf clans, humans, and of course Orcs. Dwarves do tend to avoid major wars or long drawn out ones; it takes too much energy from their efforts to improve their cities and collect wealth. Almost Dragon-like in their need to accumulate wealth, but unlike Dragons they see wealth in terms of engineering and other such things as well. In fact if they did not spend so much of it on building works of engineering they might very well have a horde to match a Dragon's! No one can match a Dwarf's ability to find ore underground, mine it, smelt it, and then spend it.
Unlike the Elves the Dwarven race is not even close to the Elven for the need of traditions and maintaining a culture. Like Humans each Dwarven area can have changes in language and culture. These are far more based on the Clan and family, and family honor is of utmost importance in the Dwarf culture. To shame a Dwarven family honor is to take on a generation long feud! Many a young Dwarf has have been kicked out to reclaim honor stained in a misspent moment of youthful errors. To lose honor and regain it is considered a great moment in a Dwarf's life, and the party could last a week or more. The drinking stamina, and general party ability of the Dwarven race is admired by humans and held in disgust by Elves. They tend to try to find a reason to throw a city wide party, another reason they have problems on keeping wealth.

Since they tend to be more like humans there are stories of some Dwarven clans that have sided with the darker side in the world for honor or wealth. How much this is true none but the Dwarves could tell you for sure. But it is known for a fact that entire clans have been erased from history for misdeeds.

A old Human saying is, "A drunken Dwarf is a great sight to behold and a great friend to all, but with a pissed off Dwarf it is better to be some place else."

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The Hunter, Fighter/Ranger, L8(4/4) — Dave H

The Hunter is a half-elven female from the Accord. Her appearance resembles her human side far more than her elven side, though both are evident to those who look. She is rather short and stocky and usually a bit dirty, as though personal cleanliness is something she never quite learned. She has drab brown hair in a pageboy cut, and a sullen demeanor. She rarely speaks, and only answers to the name, The Hunter. She carries a large axe and bow, both old but well cared for. The rest of her equipment and attire is cheap, threadbare and dirty.

Bits and pieces of her background tell the story of growing up an orphan, unloved by her elven relatives and badly neglected. For some reason she is a fugitive from her home and cannot go back. She shows tenderness only to children, and she will say or hear nothing negative about sylvan creatures. She believes very strongly in Justice for the poor and downtrodden, (but couldn't define it, saying you know it when you see it), and cares very little as to how that Justice is meted out just so long as Justice IS achieved in the end.

The Full Story of her Background

Most of the Hunter's story comes out with the "rescue" of her brother and sister, who are not nearly as reticent as Hunter to talk about it. The Hunter (real name Zelinda) lost her father (human) to a pirate raid when she was about 6, then her mother to a plague when she was about 12. Her younger sister Oleander and youngest brother Filiaster, were taken in by their aunt, who lost her husband to the same plague that killed Zelinda's mother. The aunt always blamed the children's mother for the loss of her husband, and mistreated them badly all the years they grew up. They were a poor family, with one aunt supporting her own two children and the orphan three. Her own children ate first, with the half-elves getting any leftovers, if there were any.

Zelinda became very creative in finding food sources. She knew a little woodscraft and fished a bit, but mostly searched trash for food. For a long time she would break into the mill and lick the flour up off the floor and millstones. Killing and eating the rats there was another food source she lived on. The younger siblings were given the best that she found and Zelinda tried to give them a more normal life than what she had. She also developed a feud with the local sheriff, who caught her a few times stealing, and beat her badly one time when she accidentally stabbed him with a knife. She spent a couple days in the stocks after she regained consciousness.

The Hunter was an elderly woman and a bit of an outcast herself who took pity on Zelinda as she was suffering in the stocks. After cleaning the wounds, she took Zelinda as an apprentice, teaching her trapping and other woods lore. She also introduced her to a holy nature site where some woodland creatures lived. (The place where The All's daughter ported us to.) They gave her a magical piece of bark that would make a healing tea. That and her father's axe and bow were her only possessions worth noting, and she has kept them closely ever since. The Hunter rarely spoke from an old throat wound. Zelinda, loving her like a mother, imitated her in many ways.

One day Zelinda found her mangled corpse in a clearing where they were to meet. Because neither had liked the Sheriff and had recently had another spat with him, Zelinda assumed he had done it. She lay in wait for him and defeated him in an ambush. She left him for dead. She then went home and packed all she owned and fled to the woodlands creatures. They told her that the Hunter had not been killed by the Sheriff, but by bandits. The Sheriff had just found and killed the bandits when Zelinda attacked him. He was found and his life had been saved by the townspeople. Though she begged, the woodland beings said that Zelinda had to leave. She was too violent and was wanted by the law besides. They provided some food and expressed the hope that Zelinda would someday learn to control her anger and hate and be welcomed back.

Zelinda travelled by night to the capital city, blending into crowds long enough to sneak onto a ship going away from The Accord. Pirates captured that ship and Zelinda was taken into slavery.

With the rescue of her siblings, Zelinda has changed. She is not so angry all the time, and she is very emotional and caring for her younger siblings, Oli and Fili. The group can see a side of her she had always kept hidden. She has set them up to live with us and paid for them to attend school with special tutors to teach them all they need to learn about Predallen. The two children, now young teenagers, are very shy and deferential to everyone else, clearly used to being treated as inferiors, and in fact seeing themselves as inferiors.

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Zephyr, Cleric of Frey, L8 — Dave H

Zephyr and his twin sister Sycamore were born at noon on the summer solstice and each was born with a birthmark — the symbols of Frey and Freya. Blessed by him from birth, Zephyr grew up taking on certain characteristics of that deity, and came to worship him as he grew. Raised working at the best inn in a Free Trader City on the Accord, he also learned the ways of the upper classes and political leaders, such as existed in that city anyway. Tall and thin with green eyes and almost white hair, Frey's influence gave him an appearance somewhat resembling an elf. Charismatic and wise, Zephyr speaks with confidence and the ability to persuade others. Upon reaching adulthood he fell in love with a half-elven woman. Racist feelings pressured him to abandon that love, and when he wouldn't, resulted in his kidnapping and being sold into slavery.

Zephyr focuses on making everyone's life more enjoyable in the little things in life. He cooks for the group and it pretty good at it. He always tries to see the positive and keeps a level head in most situations.

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Obadiah, Cleric of Ardneh — Andrew S (Retired to work in the Azure Order)

Obadiah grew up in the poor part of town. His mother did any type of manual work she could find to take care of the kids. His father was a yeoman but had a gambling problem. The powerful gambling guild took advantage of him and he ran up some big debt to them. Obadiah was kidnapped by the guild to try to force his father to pay. He grew up around the underworld before managing to escape with the help of an Ardneh worshipper. Due to this, he worships Ardneh and pledged his life to help poor people who are trapped by their poverty or being taken advantage of by the powerful. Having spent much of his youth in the underworld, he knows his way around corruption and criminal organizations so he can work from within - the Ardneh way.

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Talia, Human Witch(Wizard), L4 — Andrew S

Talia is native Predallen and was raised in the Druid Forest. She was sent there to avoid being taken by the Scarlet Order. She is socially awkward having grown up apart from society. As a result, she keeps a relatively large personal space. She will try to avoid being around large groups of people, frequently looking behind her to make sure nobody is approaching from her blind spot. Her cat Merlin is always by her side or riding on her shoulder or pack. She is very protective of him.

She values freedom. The rigid laws of the Orders are what caused her predicament. She realizes the necessity of community and structure, but sees that they are too often used for power rather than the common good.

She loves making things and learn how they are constructed. This is why she specializes in Transmutation. Most of her free time is spent crafting jewelry, sewing clothing, engaging in alchemy, or scribing scrolls. This is one reason she chose to exclude Evocation from her studies as it mostly entails destruction.

She also has a knack for Necromancy. To her it is an offshoot of her love of creating in that she likes to see how the essence of life coordinates with inanimate objects (bodies) to make them work as people. Spectral Hand to her is just separating some of her essence and directing it outside her body. Chill Touch is removing some of the Target's essence but not creating a hand or anything else; just discarding it. Ghoul Touch temporarily blocks the Target's essence from the body rendering the body paralyzed, etc.

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Loriciféra, Elven Archer(Fighter), L6 — Andrew S

Loriciféra was adopted by Merfolk and grew up in town on the river. His mother traded with humans, so he knows more about them than his own Elvenkind. He tries to be what he thinks an Elf would be so he grew up practicing with a bow and longsword. He favors the bow and loves the woods and climbing trees. He loves his (adoptive) mother very much but would like to learn more about his Elven heritage. He's not very wise in the ways of the world and seldom considers the consequences of his actions although he tries to do the right thing and protect the weak.

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Mojo, Human Barbarian (eventually primary PsyWar/Brb/Rgr L8 [6/1/1] ) — David R

The Mojo Motto:
"Take what you can
Give nothing back
except….Pain, Blood, Death"

Mojo is tall for a male human, rangy build. Long ragged black hair, usually tied up in leather headband, rough cut short beard. Usually wont speak unless directly asked, then reply in gruff short sentences. If he thinks the question is stupid, he will glare and ignore the questioner or, if they persist, Mojo decides to move away to another place/spot. Some may notice, he constantly watches and observes, usually out of corner of his eye, especially those who are guards/police, or military goons. Those who meet his gaze are met with dark green stare, at times like a cat eyeing a mouse.

Along with his impressive size, he moves lightly on his feet and with smooth movement and impressive running speed. His equipment is worn but well kept, particularly the black two-handed great sword he carries with him, he calls it "Black Betty". Mojo uses a black oil on his sword to keep it stained dark. His clothes show repeated patches but are serviceable, though dirty. He will tell you he is from Loki's Belt and parents are dead from the war but not much else personally will be known. He will state he was captured by orcs and sold to the slavers.

The Mojo Creed:
"Be strong and kill, or be fast and not killed".

The Mojo Mantra:
"The Body is full of Power"
"The Power moves the Body"
"The Mind controls the Body"
"The Power thus Yields to the Mind"
"My Mind, My Will"

Mojo Dark Secret Exposed

Drifting in the currents of the planar cosmos, a splinter of a deity’s eye is attracted by an event. It focuses downward across the planes until it reaches the prime material plane and on a tiny island in an underground passage it spies upon a confrontation. A large tall human male adeptly avoids a lunging attack by two huge albino crocodiles and the man trots back to an awaiting group in narrowing of the underground tunnel. The eye splinter notes the name Mojo from the human’s thoughts. As the human named Mojo takes up his position in the middle of the front line, his eyes quickly scans across those in the back ranks, the sweating faces, some with eyes wide with fear, others gripping weapons and items in a white-knuckled embrace as a few think running might be a good option. For Mojo, running is not the answer, just as he is confident the paladin on one side and the female warrior on the other share his determination to meet their attackers head-on. The sonic bass rumbling hiss, the thumping of trunk-like legs and the scaly scrape on rock indicate the time to focus is at hand and the battle is joined. The human named Mojo smiles in grim anticipation of the challenge.

The eye splinter and the back rank watch as both giant sized crocs attack directly at Mojo and despite his best attempts to parry and deflect away the combined assault, he is nearly ripped to pieces as claws rake his legs and jaws puncture his chest as the big human named Mojo staggers back and nearly falls to his knees. Only the determined attacks from the warrior and paladin that strike wounds cause the crocs to draw back for a bit. The sound of arrows loosed, magical chants and crackle of energy indicate the back ranks engaging in the battle only to be drowned out by a human scream of rage. Eyes flick over to see the tall human, Mojo, blood streaming from various rips and punctures of his body, a flap of flesh hanging off one side of his face. How is he still standing some think! His mouth open in full scream, white foamed flecks of spittle fly as he winds up his sword, a few of his comrades believe this is his death charge. As they watch, in his first half step, Mojo’s body begins to ripple and shift into bulging muscles, his wounds ceasing to bleed. In the next step, his body in an instant sprouts a full coat of dark gray hair, and in final step his scream of rage shifts octaves over into a howl and down into a guttural snarl which ends when his clawed furred hands gripping his sword is delivered in a blurring arc into a crocodile with a meaty thunk. Where once stood the man called Mojo, is now a beast wolf-man.

The two giant crocodiles seemed more incensed at this new foe and again launch dual attacks. The body of the wolf-man is clawed and ripped as more blood splatters the area and the gray fur is matted with rivulets of blood. The eye splinter is surprised as a human behind the wolf-man, bearing clerical tokens, hesitates for a second then reaches out to briefly touch the wolf-man. A flash of white and then a dim healing glow crosses across the wolf-man body, and the bleeding wounds are slowed to a trickle. Another surge of attacks from the humanoid group with grunts, curses and magic chants, one giant crocodile is pinned by a halberd allowing female warrior to deal a strike thru the neck upon which the giant croc shudders and falls dead. The second crocodile is stunned by magic missiles and then its skull crushed by the paladin's mace, its death throes marked by gnashing of teeth and slapping of its lizard tail.

The group’s adrenaline rush of triumph and survival is cut short as another howl echoes in the tunnel as all are suddenly reminded they still have an issue to deal with. Eyes wide in shock, the group sees the wolf man pivot to one side and deliver a powerful sweeping sword stroke directly at the female warrior next to him. She is able to recover and deflect the deadly stroke with a parry of her own weapon. The group reacts to aid their comrade to pummel and quickly subdue the bloodied wolf-man who falls unconscious. A torrent of curses, accusations and questions erupt from the remainder of the group that ceases a minute later when the wolf-man body twitches and ripples back to the form of the human named Mojo. As Mojo’s eyes flutter open for a second, a great cough of blood erupts and he falls over dying as the cleric rushes over in attempt to aid. The now bored splinter of a deity’s eye drifts back to the planar cosmos, the events it just watched….. forgotten.

Mojo Tells His Story
The next day after Mojo Dark Secret Exposed:

Mojo sat down on the stone bench with a sigh, feeling some comfort in the solidness of the worked stone. He watched Saffron and Ogrel walk to the other members of the group to gather them at his request. This vagabond group of motley comrades, cast together by “the spite of fate”, a favorite phrase of his mentor as Mojo recollected. As the group gathered around, Mojo could see the various stares and glances, some neutral, some in disbelief, some cautious and others worried and uneasy. And some noticed that Mojo had left his sword, “Black Betty”, some thirty feet away knowing Mojo almost never left it out of reach. The stares and glares, the attention was making Mojo tense and nervous, which in turn was making him angry. With everyone gathered, Mojo drew in a deep breath, looked off into the distance and out loud clearly chanted the calming phrase his mentor created for him, his mantra:

“The Body is Full of Power”
“The Power Moves the Body”
“The Mind Controls the Body”
“The Power thus Yields to the Mind”
“My Mind, My Will”

Mojo focused his attention back to the group. “Thus is the phrase my mentor gave for me to control my rage, my rage which in turn can be a trigger for my legacy, lycanthropy as some call it, or were-wolf as the common phrase. My legacy is hereditary via family blood-line. As told to me by my parents, per the legends of werewolves, I can not pass my lycanthropy on by biting, a full moon also does not affect me. The theory is the blood line has been diluted over the generations. This is the story as told to me how this came about. The story goes back to the founders of my village. It is not known whether one or more of them was already afflicted and it was a reason why they settled in remote hilly region or that the affliction came later on. Over time, the village grew as it prospered by the small mine in the hills and ridges and protected by vigilance of the village scouts and guards. Also, over the years came attacks and sightings of some wolf monster of which only a few wolves would ever be attacked, hunted and tracked to its lair, only to find the latest victim of the beast. In time, someone figured it out the riddle, they captured a werewolf and proved it to the village leaders that it was one of themselves. The leaders were able to devise a test to “bring out the beast” and applied this test to all in the village, killing any who changed for the good of the village. In fear of word getting out, all were swore to an oath to never reveal and no one was allowed to ever leave for fear it getting tracked back to the village and then everyone would be killed to cleanse the curse. Wandering strangers were never allowed to stay long and usually “encouraged” to leave quickly, even tinkers and traders were treated with least acceptance possible.

Over the years, the test became narrowed to being performed at the “coming of age” as it been discovered this was when the werewolf legacy could earliest show itself without any control, any who did was labeled “sick tainted” and taken away to be never seen or talked off again, yes they were killed to be blunt. The test is three days of torture, chained to a floor, and taunted, humiliated, whipped until you collapsed or showed the legacy of being "sick tainted". Any who passed, it was explained to them the need for the test and swore an oath to the village. Soon it became rare for someone to be “sick tainted”.

Yes, even I was tested and had my first meeting with the “spite of fate”, though I did not know it then. I only remember the first day of testing, the rest is a blur as I would rage, black out, awaken, only to rage again to strike at those tormenting me. But I passed and became only the second person I know of to ever pass the test and have the blood legacy of the werewolf. My parents both were leaders of the guards and scouts who protected the village. Even back then I was tall and fast for my age, had a good sense of direction and reliable. Stories of my rage in testing had circulated around and after several vicious fights, my father decided to get me out of the village as much as possible as a scout or to deliver messages to other villages. While I was out on a message errand, somehow, somebody discovered the werewolf legacy of my village and ordered the attack to wipe it out. I came upon two deserter soldiers scavenging for money and trinkets among the pile of burning dead people, and heard them talk of “wiping out village of werewolf scum” and laughing pointing at a form staked in middle of burning pile, it was my mother half changed to were-wolf as she died. At that point, I went crazy and attacked the two soldiers and blacked out. I woke some time later and saw both soldiers’ dead, they were clawed and bitten and my body was covered in blood, the taste in my mouth. I saw giant wolf prints in the torn ground and realized I had the blood line. As I slowly gathered my senses, I took off to warn my older sister and younger brother who were both out at a nearby small hamlet a few days away. Again, the spite of fate got in way of my goal as I was attacked by a small group of orc raiders, I was badly wounded and only my raging in werewolf form was able to hold them off from quickly killing me but it was a losing battle. Just as I collapsed dying in my human body, I was rescued by my future mentor, a wizard whose magic finished off the last orc raiders. Why he decided to help me, he never said other than “the fickle finger of fate”. It took a few weeks for me to recover from my wounds and fevers. My mentor had connections to try and help find where my brother and sister might be but very little information was known. In meantime, since I owed him my life, I worked for him as a body guard and delivered messages for him. I had warned him of my “legacy” but I think he did not quite believe me until he was attacked at his office by an opposing trade group of goons with a merc cleric of Surtur, during the battle I went rage and changed into werewolf and we killed them all. I was distantly aware of my actions and when I went to attack him, my mentor had to subdue me with a giant spider spell and used a billy club to the head to knock me out.

After that fight and I had recovered, over the next few weeks he cast some arcane spells on me to study my “legacy” and to try to figure out some control method. He came up with the mantra for me to use. He also told me that he detected some other latent skill in me though he had no sense what it might be. Since that battle with the goons, I had only gone into rage once but did not change. A few months later, on a message delivery to another town to follow up on information about my brother and sister, I was captured by orc slavers. They seem to know about me as they put a sleep spell and then some other spell to take away my strength as they tied me up. I believe I was betrayed by someone in my mentor’s business being jealous of my position.

The battle yesterday was the first time since my capture I have changed into my legacy or even raged. In truth, I have felt myself close to rage a few times, I have been able to control it so far. My thanks to not killing me off when you all had chance to do so and I regret my attack at you Hunter. I have a strong urge to get back to my home area, to protect my mentor though time has likely passed for that. Also I want to find my brother and sister, although they likely are dead or better off with me staying away if still alive. A favorite saying of mentor “the spite of fate”, it has intruded on my life much too often. So what is my fate with the group?”

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Ace Kane, Human Sorcerer, L8 — David R

Ace is average build human male. He looks more traveler than sorcerer. His hair is a light brown, close cut. He wears a short dark beard. Those who can discern accents, will attribute his "common" inflection related to the region called "The Accord". He will not deny being there but says he its not his home area. Usually quiet but will engage in conversations if interested in topic or persons. Those who spend enough time will realize Ace has had advanced schooling, articulating sentences carefully and completely. He would show some skill in general medic heal actions in helping those suffering from minor injuries or illnesses.

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Kevlar, Human Paladin, L7 — Kevin R

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Pavelow, Human Sorcerer, L6 — Kevin R

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Suibhne (SIV-na): Male Dwarf Light Fighter Extraordinaire, L7 — Clayton

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Arranz Female Elf Wizard, L7 — Clayton

She is an elf. Dabbles in the mystical arts, the rest is none-ya-damn business.

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Basil - Human Male Paladin of Ardneh, L7 - Ed

Grew up as a 3rd class peasant in the Orc city of Qooh in Loki's Belt. After an elf raid his parents lost everything and followed the elven force away from the damage. The family was placed on a farm in the human section of the elf city Limel and got raised up to 2nd class citizen. The old man who ran the farm became his surrogate grandfather. He taught me my values and set me on the path to become a paladin. He has grown to hate social classes and fights to eliminate slavery.

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Hayden - Human Male Monk/Psion, L7(4/3) - Ed

Average sized black male with a shaved head. Is extremely quiet and withdrawn. He spends a lot of time meditating and going with the flow to not make waves or make himself stand out. If anyone cares to watch him for a while you will notice that he is more relaxed around dwarves than humans, although he doesn't go out of his way to speak to them either. Killed by BigBoy, former slaver on the Ghost Moon, while retrieving the Heart of the Mountain.

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Elf Fighter named Feyren, L5 - Jeff

From The Accord region like most elves. She is a typical elf in many ways. Small in stature, elegant looking, and graceful in her movements and gestures. Green eyes with brown hair tinted blue. She intently listens to all discussions she is engaged in, but seldom initiates conversation or elaborates much when she answers peoples questions. She is either near Edgtho or keenly aware of his location. She clearly engages more with Edgtho in private consult and seldom has any emotional response after any conversation. There is an attachment to his character, but it does not appear romantic or as a servant.

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Human Druid named Edgtho, L5 - Jeff

States he is from The Accord. All human features, average height and average looks. Dark brown hair and brown eyes with his hair in the back longer than the rest. Confident in himself and his abilities. Regularly engages in conversation and inserts his opinion or insight into situations he many not be qualified or invited into. Normally socially appropriate and his statements are usually sound and thoughtful. Clearly has a connection with Feyren, but is less aware of her and her actions.

His attention when not socially engaged appears to be with the world around him. He is keenly aware of the elements around him and nature itself. He can be observed analyzing plants and rocks and watches animals. He does appear to care for the well-being of people and tends to people when they are not well.

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Saffron Illyria, Half-Elf Bard, L8 — Doug

She grew up in prosperous seaside town where her father is a cattle rancher in the leather business. After his first wife died he married up, and as the first born to his second wife, she has always been a brat, always fighting with her older sister and younger brother, always needing to be the center of attention. Her talents and interests were in music and manipulation, but they soon turned to magic!

She befriended a decrepit old human beggar, who would earn his keep by telling stories to children in the town square. He was scorned for being a blind beggar, but most of all for being a human. That's the way they roll in The Accord. Later on, she was told of his secret: he was a former adventurer with enough gold squirreled away to live the rest of his days in comfort. He taught her tales of his adventures and tunes from far away.

Years later when the old bard died, she received a tidy sum in his will, including his instruments. Over the years she realized she also inherited his wanderlust. So she left most of her money with her family and set off to make her own adventures. Although things didn't quite go as planned….

Saffron's Dark Secret
Growing up on The Accord, a young half elf from the village named Halborin was her “first love". He grew up in a dirt poor low status family, and convinced her to play hooky and do minor vandalisms. After a while, he filled her head with the desire to play Robin Hood, and after the first real robbery she realized she was trapped as a member of his gang. After a few years, she figured a way to escape, which you guess means she had some evidence to hold over him or something like that that she doesn’t really explain.

A few years go by with her spending a good part of her money on the local poor to help her guilt, but then her old lover shows up and threatens her. After she stands up to him, he leaves. A few days go by and she learns her younger brother has been kidnapped with a ransom note. As a trained first level bard, she convinces some of her friends to head to her old hangout and end this once and for all: go there kill him and free her brother. When she shows up she is surprised to find he has a small gang with him and things go very wrong. He happily admits that her younger brother has been killed, and the body disposed of, totally out of spite. In the fight that follows Halborin is able to escape, and she is left to deal with the results of her mistakes. With her guilt and shame, she had to leave the island.

This is why she left the Accord.
This is why she was on a boat in the first place.
This is why she was kidnapped.
Her whole time with the party has been a kind of self-imposed scourging punishment for her sins.

Maybe someday she can kill Halborin, but while that would be Justice that won't end her guilt.

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Clopid Ogrel, Gnome Rogue, with dreams of Illusionist, L7(5/2) — Doug

Ogrel is kind of a screwed up guy. When he was born, his mining village was raided by orcs who tossed him out with the trash. But as often happens in tales like this, he was found by a band of dwarves who took him in, for some reason. But in the Weathered Kingdoms, dwarves are outcasts themselves, and this clan had made peace with the gnomes with whom they openly treat to the point of rumors of miscegenation! So the Clopid Clan brought him up, training him in the ways of stone and tunnel. There he learned mining, the solitary beauty of finding the right cut of a gem, and the hatred of all things orc.

He was often the face the dwarves used when dealing with the big folk, sometimes in unsavory ways. He has quick hands and an underdeveloped conscience, though he is not malicious. He is hoping to learn advanced prestidigitation instead of just using his dagger, and wants something better than being living in a smelly hole in the ground.

He is Chaotic (of course) and Neutral by habit. Like the semi-vegitarian who is not opposed to a little fish or chicken now and then, he is semi-Good, in that he is not opposed to getting hands dirty when he feels like it.

And there's certainly no TERRIBLE DARK SECRET in his background. Certainly not. No way. Where did you hear that? You are way off base there, pal!

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