Vindicta [OOC] - A Medieval-Fantasy Tale of Rangers and Vengeance

[HeySeuss]

Sorry, we're full up, unless you submit a really awesome character out of the blue because this RP really inspired you (just in case.)

Artwork depicting a battle from Tolkien's Lord of the Rings,

TL;DR Summary:

• Medieval/Fantasy - I am doing a homegrown setting that allows people to invent stuff so they can more easily put together their characters and design what they need.
• D&D style - while not bothering to use rules and so forth, which would mean rolling dice, I am keeping D&D in mind. This is a campaign for ranger type characters, including multi-class ranger characters.
• The characters are all adopted children of an old ranger that have returned home to pay respects and bury him, only to find that a tyrannical ruler had him, and many others, killed.
• Characters are all similar in certain respects, but differences should be highlighted.
• No anthromorphic animal type characters -- sorry, I can't deal with furries or lizardmen and the such.
• Plot will turn into an overall guerrilla war against said ruler as the adoptive children decide to take up the path of vengeance and justice in a very Four Brothers/Seven Samurai/Magnificent Seven sort of way.
• Collaborative GMing; I have final say, but I want to encourage people to have ideas on side quests and so forth.
• Long term commitment -- I am running this in casual because you guys actually stick with your RP's for a long time and because I am experimenting with shorter posts.

Table of Contents:

• In Character Thread
• IRC Chat for the RP (Or #Saga on irc.foonetic.net, the same IRC server as the Guild chat.)
• Approved characters and other useful data will go here.
• Tobias Red-Ear (Tesla) - Elven/Human mix, Male
• Sabdrin (Vanquished) - Half-Drow, Female
• Nomaros Barith (Nariata) - Half-Elf, Male
• Thora Thorvaldsdottir (Ellri) - Elven/Human mix, Female
• Masef Nazar (HeySeuss) - Human, Male
• Ilta (Merle) - Tiefling, Female
• Bear Flan (Ollumhammersong) - Gnome, Male
• Marla (Rigi) - Human, Female
• Rylynn Wayne (May) - Human, Female
• Winnifrid Wylde (Battlebrew) - Human, Female
• Marigold Shortcut (tearah) - Halfling, Female
• More to come

In Character Info:

Brand of the Nightwood was a local fixture, though a remote one -- a woodsman known to occasionally appear with a story or an act of charity, a guide for those that were lost or otherwise in trouble in the forest and someone that kept bandits on their toes. He didn't spend much time in the towns surrounding the Nightwood itself, but he was known because of his skills and his essentially kind nature. He wasn't the most polished gem, but he was a fine person to know when there was trouble afoot. The old ranger had a reputation for his skill and an adventurous youth. He retired to the Nightwood and became a figure of remote charity -- he seemed to have a way with the stray children that seemed to show up in the area, incorrigibles and the such that he took in. He was the place's sentinel, keeping a watch for monsters and other things in the forests, keeping bandits on their toes. He stayed out of local politics, but he always lent a helping hand.

When the Earl of Barkstead decided to take a stand against the current King of Vendland, Harold the Bloody, Brand of the Nightwood stayed out of the revolt, thinking that the reprisal would be a bloody one. But he took in William of Barkstead's two children when the battle of Ansdale resulted in an overwhelming victory for the King's forces, which included an array of monstrous mercenaries and magic users.

King Harold's men came for Brand of Nightwood; they found a formidable old man, a warrior in the winter of his years. He did not mince his words when faced with the tyrant's warriors, nor did he intend to give the children up for torture, rape or whatever else the king's depraved killers could imagine.

It was a fight, but he lost against overwhelming odds, making a stand. He was in the winter of his life, but instead of living out those days in well-earned peace, he was brutally executed, though not without taking his toll from the enemy.

However, the Earl's children weren't the first orphans old Brand ever took in. They were merely the latest of a number of children that called him 'Father,' an far-flung array of siblings spread out over the world who made the journey back to their childhood home to pay respects to their adoptive father and mentor as well as perhaps redress the injustice of his death...

Out of Character Info:

The characters here are family; they're all rangers that Brand of the Nightwood adopted, and they are back to bury the old man. Of course, the powers that be have already pissed them off considerably, but to add insult to injury, they will of course attempt to clarify that need for vengeance by trying to defile the body or disrupt the burial. Or perhaps, the characters need to steal the body back in the night from where it is displayed as a warning to others, thus creating a situation where they need to fight anyway.

The campaign will center around this band's involvement in the civil war, but they are also family. Adopted family of varying races (perhaps) and creeds, different from each other in many ways, but with a huge common ground -- the same man raised them, probably at the same time, though we should spread the ages out -- some of the characters are older and some are younger, over the span of perhaps twenty years or more.

While the characters are all rangers, that doesn't mean they're the same -- there's a great degree of diversity in the class, as well as multi-class options or prestige class types. I am not using D&D 3.5 rules or any rule-set, but I am using the template to sort of inform how we view our characters and their capabilities, if that makes sense.

For running the RP, I intend to share the GM responsibility a bit -- this is a collaborative process and while I have specific ideas on plot points, I want others to feel free to propose scenarios and quest-items and so forth, as well as to play the role of the antagonists (there will be many and varied) and to add to developing the setting our characters will be playing in. We should, above all, feel invested in this RP together and share a collective sense of ownership and interest in keeping the plot lively and, above all, awesome. On the other hand, I'll retain the ability to settle disputes as the thread owner, but I'm hoping we don't come to that.

In any case, I want to do a rockin' RP out of this.

Character Creation Guide:

The characters in this will be unified by some basic themes. The first is that the characters are all rangers, skilled wilderness guides/scouts and fighters, frontier trackers and so forth. If you are familiar with Aragorn from the Lord of the Rings, or better yet, ever played a D&D game of any sort, you know what this entails. The other unifying theme is that they are all siblings, though adoptive siblings (well, a couple characters might be blood siblings too -- that's up to players if they want to play that out.) Brand of Nightwood was a guy that picked up strays and adopted them and this man's legacy may play out differently in different people, but all the characters should feel they owe him a debt. That is not to say they are remotely the same people. In fact, the point is that since they consider themselves family, the arguments will be more intense, because no one fights like family. They have different methods, different outlooks, different opinions. There is probably competition at various levels and a degree of satisfaction in being right. At the same time, they are still unified as family against those that would do it harm, care for each other and, above all, they have every reason to fight King Harold the Bloody and his henchmen -- a good man took them in and this royal motherfucker butchered that good man like a pig. Now he wants to butcher them for daring to pay respects to that good man.

Beyond that, the field is wide open. Pick a template of sort for the characters, their skills and their preferences, perhaps even work along the lines of a D&D 3.5 (for those that know) prestige class, or a specialization within that ranger class, or even make the character a multi-class ranger, which is to say a ranger that studied magic (ranger-mage) or a ranger that took up religion (ranger-cleric) or similar. Different races are encouraged; elves, half-elves, half-nymph, even half-orc and half-<insert here> -- don't take that short list to be a limitation on race ideas (but no furries/anthromorphic animal type characters.) Also, feel free to invent countries and ethnicities for human characters; I have a few country and culture ideas, but I am very open to your investment in this RP. You should invent an ethnic/national origin for your character if you do not want to use Vendland -- Vendland is like a crossroads country where all sorts show up. Don't take this as 'you must invent a bunch of setting stuff for your character' however. We can keep it vague and fill in the blanks as we go -- so long as you can scrape up a name or something, we should be able to do the rest as it occurs.

Character Sheet:

Name:
Gender:
Age:
Race/Ethnicity: (If human, write "Human/Vendish" (for example) or "Elven/Wood" (to say they're a Wood Elf.) Or "Human/<insert ethnicity here>" or "Elven/High." You get the idea.)

Appearance:

(Picture or Text; your call. I'm more of a text guy, myself.)

Bio:

(Background; who the parents were, how they were adopted, what they've done, have they been involved in foreign lands, and what sort of odd jobs they've done and so forth. These characters split up and did different things, so each biography should be a bit of a tale that makes them who they are now.)

Psychological Profile:

(A basic description of the person, how they relate to people and how they are reacting to the situation right now -- this should be a breeze if you do the bio first. You need to definitely expand upon how your character feels about the fight with the Vendish king and what they think of the objectives; do they want him dead or merely abdicated or to simply agree to stop fighting. Do they care who gets in the way or not? Is it 'us versus them' or black and white or is there a shade of gray?)

Skills/Talents/Abilities:

(List skills, knowledge, talents, including racial abilities and magic and so forth. Do not merely fill out the role, add trivial-seeming things like a fondness for dice and so forth. You can expand this as you think of things, but odd skills and interests are perfectly cool.)

Equipment:

(This encompasses the personal gear the characters have; include religious icons, m and so forth, knicknacks and the such. Have fun with this.)

Companions/Familiars:

(Rangers are often typified by their relationship to animals and nature, deeper and stronger than man and pet in most cases. The sort of animal the ranger forms a bond with is a commentary on the ranger's personality and outlook, and where they are coming from. Your character doesn't have to have an animal companion or, if a magic user, a familiar. It's just an included item for color and for character development.)

Relationships and Acquaintances:

(You do not need to fill this out immediately, but this should include other characters, after you talk it over with various players as the RP fills out. I want to have an idea of who fancies whom and who they can't stand and all the in-betweens. Since they are family, you are required to fill this out for every character eventually.)

[Merle]

WIP: Posting so I can make the magical circle appear over the thread icon. ^^

Name: Ilta
Gender: Female
Age: 24
Race/Ethnicity: Tiefling/Vendish

Appearance:

5'9"
140 lbs
She has a tall, lean build
She long chestnut colored hair which reaches the small of her back, but she almost always wear it pulled back into a ponytail or coiled into a tight bun on the back of her head so that it stays out of the way.
pale ivory skin
thin, arched eyebrows et over a pair of red eyes
large black horns, curving on the top of her head
a long, thin nose rests above a generous mouth withlarge generous lips, frequently colored a ruby red
pointed teeth
long claws rather than nails
tail

her face an oval shape and thin, arched eyebrows are set over a pair of red eye. A long thin nose rests above a large mouth with thin lips

Bio:

Ilta was born in the bustling city of Tesser, no more than a days ride from Nightwood. Her father was a notorious thief, gambler and drunkard. Her mother an ill tempered innkeeper and occasional con-woman. In short, her parents were perhaps not the most reputable of people, although they somehow managed to avoid the attention of the law. She was the youngest of several siblings and half-siblings, her father having been married twice before and not a man to let his marital status stand in the way of some fun. In light of their morals or rather their distinct lack of any such qualities it was according to many fitting that a child of such parents would be touched by the fiendish planes and to be expected that the family would turn out to have infernal blood.

From the day of her birth it was clear the Ilta was not entirely human. The irises of her eyes were a crimson shade of red, black horns grew from the top of her head, she had long claws rather than nails and perhaps most shockingly the young girl had a tail. It was said that her father had traded the soul of his youngest child in return for the aid of some fiend. However, he was quick to deny any such accusations with a loud laugh, suggesting instead that it was the girl's great-grandfather who was to blame. A mysterious man known only as Arlen, was rumored to have been a sorcerer of questionable alignment, who dabbled in the darker magics, communicated with the inhabitants of the lower planes and ultimately made a bargain with a devil to increase his power.

Growing up in the rough slums of Tesser, she acquired the cut-throat attitude and coarse dialect for which the slums of the large city are known. Surprisingly for a tiefling to begin with she was tolerated, if not kindly treated by her parents and siblings. She helped her mother at the run down inn the family owned, performing menial tasks and. She received little in the way an education, after all as her father was fond of saying, "You don't waste time trying to teach a sewer rat." The time when she was not working at the inn was often spent in company of her father, either watching him drink himself into oblivion or joining him on his nightly journeys into the city to burglar the valuables of the sleeping residents. Her life was thus tolerable and although she craved the affection which her parents seemed to at least occasionally bestow upon her more normal siblings, life could have been much worse.

Not long after her eighth birthday, she was cast out from her family. Her father only shrugging his shoulders and saying that the family had shouldered the burdens of her damned soul long enough as he told her never to come back. Ilta lived on the streets of Tesser for some time, using what little skills she had learned from her thief of a father to survive. Eventually she fell in with the criminal elements of the city but due to her ancestry she remained an outcast even among the burglars, pickpockets and swindlers of the Thieves Guild. Cold and hungry on the best of days she nonetheless survived. However, after a couple of years her luck ran out and she was caught stealing from a particularly wealthy and well to do noble. With no money to pay the fine or relatives willing to claim her and as a known thief among the city guard, she was unceremoniously tossed into a dark prison cell to rot. She languished in the small cell she shared with a dozen other undesirables for weeks before a city guardsman as it happened an old acquaintance of Brand who took pity on the young girl and secured her release, offering that he could find her a home.

Ilta arrived at Brand's household a dirty, sullen looking child dressed in little more than rags with a vicious streak and a volatile temper. In the coming months, despite the kindness they showed she viewed Brand and his charges with suspicion and often disdain, convinced that they were somehow out to trick her. She proved to be a difficult student, her stubbornness and poor behavior often testing the patience of even Brand himself not to mention that of the other children who quickly learned to stay far away from the angry young girl. That is not to say that she did not show some talent, for when she desired she was an able pupil displaying an ability in matters of stealth and dexterity, Brand speculating that it might have had something to do with her unnatural ancestry.

However, it would be remiss not to mention her relationship with another of Brand's charges, the young half-drow girl Sabdrin. From the first moment they had met, the two seemed to harbor a special hatred for one another that transcended all other petty conflicts they held. Their arguments, screaming matches and frequent fights were legendary; threatening more than once to leave the household in ruins. Not even the stern words of their new parent seemed able to prevent the violence. However, as the months went by, their hatred dulled and their tumultuous relationship began to change into something else. Isolated from the other children, as a result of their own actions and choices they forged a tentative alliance of outcasts. Ilta had finally found someone like her, someone who knew what it was like to grow up hated simply because of the blood that coursed through her veins and for the first time in her short life Ilta did not feel alone. After a time Ilta almost forgot that she had disliked or fought with Sabdrin at all and could scarily phantom why she had felt anything but affection towards the other girl.

The half-drow girl became an older sister to the tiefling, the sibling that Ilta had never had, not even in the brothers and sisters with whom she shared common blood. Sabdrin taught Ilta what she could, protected her when she got into trouble and with the exception of Brand seemed to be the one person who was capable of handling Ilta's frequent bouts of anger. Sabdrin's slow burning personality was a direct contrast to that of the tiefling and helped to keep younger girl's brash nature in check. However, much to the chagrin and occasional amusement of Brand the pair seemed to have a propensity for trouble. Beginning a crime spree, in the form of pranks played on the their father and siblings that continued well into adulthood.

With the passing of the years Ilta came to hold a grudging respect and affection towards Brand, even making an effort to avoid quarreling with her siblings, although she didn't always succeed in this regard. Still, while she may not have considered them her closet friends, their relationship was at least polite if distant. However, in many ways Ilta was the same girl she had been when she first arrived at the Brand's household. The beginnings of adulthood had done little to dull her temper or stubbornness. While she listened to the teachings of the elderly ranger and in all truth had learned much from him, she was quick to exclaim her disdain for his more esoteric teachings, preferring instead matters of swordplay. She was defiant in all things and rebellious, rarely silent when commanded and often disagreed with Brand's moral perspective. However, the greatest altercations between the two were concerned with Ilta's growing bloodthirstiness, which Brand often told her worried him the most as he pleaded with her to heed his advice.

One moonless night, Ilta simply packed her bags and left without saying a word or even leaving a note. She felt her temper and methods did not suit those of the by then elderly ranger. She felt stifled by his moral preaching and left to avoid the inevitable falling out she could feel had been growing with each argument they had. It pained her to leave without saying goodbye to Sabdrin, but she didn't want to burden her beloved sister and felt sure that the other woman would have done something to stop her.

Ilta traveled northwards, at first without a clear purpose other than to put as much distance between herself and Nightwood. A brief, bloody fight with a simple highway bandit left her with revelation; as she cleaned the fresh blood off her sword she knew that there was only one place for her kind. Leaving the border of Vendland behind her, she traveled into the heart of the Northern Kingdoms, setting a course for the inhospitable Spine of the World. She would stop briefly cities, towns and villages she passed in search of any worthy teachers in the art of sword fighting, regardless of their moral alignment or reputation. In time her skills grew and when at last she felt certain that she had learned what she could she sought to test her abilities in their true environment on the battlefield. She found service as a sellsword in a mercenary company, fighting in the minor border skirmishes and wars which plague the northern lands. The years passed quickly and the young tiefling grew into a fearsome swordsman, her sword well bloodied and sharp. Although she had by then largely turned her back on the teachings of the elderly ranger who had adopted her, she still found use for the skills he had taught her occasionally hunting bandits, thieves and other soldiers in the barren wasteland of the North.

When she began to hear rumors of unrest in the Kingdom of Vendland she put it to the back of her mind, telling herself that it was no longer her fight. However, it came to pass that one day she found herself on the border of Vendland and sitting in a seedy tavern, slowly mulling over a questionably tasting tankard of mead she found herself exchanging pleasantries with a traveling merchant who had just passed through Vendland. Clearly, distraught, the man quickly downed several tankards of strong spirits, before launching into a tale of the terrible sights he had seen. Unable to contain her morbid curiosity, Ilta paid for more spirits when the man had run through his funds, listening with drawn breath and fists balled in anger as he related all he knew of the heroic death of one Brand, Ranger of Nightwood. The tiefling felt something inside of her snap and she knew she had to return to her home. Stumbling out of the tavern sick with grief and guilt, there was only one thing on her mind, revenge.

Psychological Profile:

Ilta is a fiery young woman full of bitterness and rage.

*knew she was different at an early age
*strange urges/desire (due to ancestry)
*lack of love/unloved/disowned
*bitter, expects to be rejected, poorly treated, pessimist, sees the worst in people

*distrusted --->distrusting and self-reliant
*proud, secretive by nature, dark demeanor
*reputation: tiefling: social outcasts, untrustworthy scoundrels
She is extremely loyal to those who demonstrate friendship and trust, rarely breaks a bond once bond it is forged
She is fearless
She has a fiery temper
*alluring and intelligent creatures, with a seductive aura in spite of their obviously evil ancestry"

There is a hint of bloodlust in the tiefling, she seems to take pleasure in bloodshed and violence.

Skills/Talents/Abilities:

Ranger: As with all of his other charges from the moment she came to him, Brand trained Ilta to be a ranger. He taught her how to use a wide variety of weapons, how to maintain them and ensured that she became a capable fighter. He showed her how to survive in the wilderness, how to find prey, and how to avoid detection. The old man shared what he knew about the creatures of the realm, knowing that it was such knowledge which could make all the difference when she was alone deep in the wilds. Despite the general disinterest of the young woman, before they parted ways, he even managed to teach her how to use her ties to nature in order to draw upon the natural powers and cast druidic spells.

Tempest: Ilta fights in the whirling, unpredictable manner of the tempests. Throwing a deadly barrier of blades in between her and her foes as she dances around them.

Two-handed Weapon Style: She has learned how to fight with larger two-handed melee weapons.

Two-weapon Fighting: Ilta can fight as well with a weapon in each hand as most people do with one in both.

Weapon Finesse: She is a nimble fighter who uses dexterity as opposed to brute strength when fighting.

Ambidextrous: She has trained herself to be ambidextrous and is equally skilled in matters of dexterity with both of her hands.

Darkvision: All tieflings have darkvision, the racial ability to see (in black and white) out to 60 feet with no light source at all.

Darkness: A tiefling can use darkness once per day, essentially causing an object to radiate shadowy illumination out to a 20-foot radius. Within this area all creatures gain concealment and even those than can normally see in low-light conditions struggle as the darkness is magical in nature. Similarly, natural sources of light and lower level spells are incapable of brightening the area. However the spell can be dispelled or if the object on which darkness was cast is placed inside another object or under something that is lightproof the effects of the spell are blocked.

Infernal Wrath: A tielfing can channel their innate rage and potential for evil into their attacks for added effectiveness.

Resistance: Due to their infernal ancestry, tieflings are also slightly resistant to effects of cold, electricity, and fire.

Languages: Common, Infernal, Elven

Equipment:

• Two-handed sword (Cleaver?): Ilta carries a large, cruel looking two handed sword with an oddly angled hilt. Although the is in excellent condition, something about it just feels off. The balance or grip I strains the forearm slightly and unlike most well forged weapons it does not rest comfortably in the hand. Those who hold it come away with the unsettling feeling that it is not a blade intended for use by humans. However, these facts doesn't appear to negatively effect the abilities of anyone who chooses to wield it. Too large for a scabbard, the Tiefling keeps the weapon covered with a red cloth, secured by a similarly colored string.
• Scimitar: A beautiful, flowing scimitar with a medium-sized turquoise jewel set in the middle of the cross-guard and two smaller stones of the same color set to the side. Ilta wears the curved sword in a long, plain grey scabbard.
• Daggers: Ilta carries several daggers on her person. The first dagger is the companion weapon to the the aforementioned scimitar. The sleek steel dagger has a pronounced cross-guard and large pommel. An elegant blue scabbard, keeps the weapon safe. The second is a brutal looking blade, with a guard shaped into a pair of horns. The hilt of the dagger is enameled a copper red.
• Metal Armor: She wears several pieces of steel armor (on the top of her hands, her right shoulder/neck, her right elbow, her shins, her knees, the front of her thighs and her feet). Wading into a battle without a full set of armor is a reckless practice in line with her personality.
• Blue Cloak with Hood, Leather Leggings, Thick Long Sleeved Woolen Tunic, Protective Leather Vest, Leather Gloves,
• Medium-sized Pack: A brown leather pack containing: a couple of rations of dried meat, a whetstone, a flint stone
• Waterskin: Half full of relatively fresh water.
• Silver mask: Ilta often wears a silver mask carved into the fearsome visage of a fiend

Companions/Familiars:

Wolverine: Turl: Ilta's companion of choice is a small wolverine with a mighty temper and a distinct lack of fear.

Relationships and Acquaintances:
Sabdrin

[Tesla]

Name: Tobias "Red-Ear"
Gender: Male
Age: 20
Race/Ethnicity: Human possibly traces of Elf. Pale skinned, unknown Ethnicity.

Appearance: Tobias has shoulder length black hair that holds a long, thick braid down the back which wraps around his shoulder and drapes over his chest. He has a thin face that comes down into a soft point, making his face appear delicate and gentle. Not a tall fellow, Tobias stands about 5'06'' on a good day and weighs no more than 9 or 10 stones. A pair of light blue eyes and a small nose causes Tobias to often be mistaken for a women in the wrong lighting. However small Tobias seems he makes this up with his agility and use what he has to get by. Tobias has been known to use his delicate stature and gender confusing charm more than once to slip out of tight situations. Sporting a strange dark gray mottled cloak that seems to hold a deep forest green hue to it with a deep hood that engulfs the whole head keeping it in the shadows. The cloak allows Tobias to blend in with his surrounds, a camouflage technique he has learned and has become almost a trademark of his style. The trick is in the pattern of the cloak, by having a various pattern of different colors the overall shape of the person is concealed sometimes making it appear there is no person there at all. Under this large cloak he wears a plain dark gray tunic, some leather leggings and a pair of sturdy leather boots that are designed for a woman Tobias shamefully admits. His feet are small and are the main reason he believes himself to be part Elven most likely a Wood Elf. On his face a single white line with a dot at it's center stretch across his forehead for an unknown, possible religious reason.

Bio:

Tobias lived with the old man for as long as he can remember. Old Brand told him only once how he found him. It was when the trees were bare and the ground was hard and frozen by the icy winds. the old man had been out in his travels or hunting possibly, Tobias wasn't sure, he just knew the man had stumbled across a carriage that was overturned. When Brand had investigated the accident he believed the wagon must've fallen victim to the harsh winter storms while traveling with a caravan of wagons and been left behind. Two horses lay dead in front, so frozen the scavengers haven't even bothered trying to nibble through the icy hide. A man laid face down on the side of the road, his body completely covered with snow save his hand which had been holding onto the reins. Brand checked the back of the wagon and found a poor woman, frozen stiff cradling a baby so small and quiet he had been invisible to Brand for a moment. The old man had mistaken the bundle of blankets and furs as a sack of food, the only identification of the boy was a small name stitched into his blanket that read "Tobias". He took the child immediately home and since then raised him as his own.

Since then Tobias had always been fond of nature always down by the river catching fish for dinner or trapping squirrels, rabbits, even able to snipe a crow or two with his bow. He had always lacked a surname and felt out of place from many of the others who knew some knowledge of their family. Old Brand knew this and felt sorry for the lad, he had noticed the boy's skill at fishing especially catching large amounts of them. Brand had figured the boy caught so many Redear Sunfish he gave the boy a surname of his own, Tobias "Red-Ear", however unofficial it was. Tobias stuck with it, the name had even become a nickname or a second name only those close to Tobias know. He wears his name with more pride than any of the others and is even more proud a man like Brand had named him.

Tobias has since traveled with a group of druidic followers, each having their own belief and faith but all sharing the love and preservation of nature. Tobias has learned nature magic from them, he has learned ways of the woods few others at his age do. Although still young and only a simple novice in his trade, Tobias shows great talent for his chosen path.

Psychological Profile:

Tobias was a strange kid, he was often uncomfortable around most people and always was quiet. He never seemed to step out of line or give old man Brand a hard time, keeping himself out of the spotlight and to himself. Something of an introvert, Tobias never really got along with beings considered equal intellect as his. They were arrogant, selfish, loud and bothersome for the most part animals understood the balance of the world. They didn't wage war, they survived and defended themselves. Tobias saw the world as a place where you must defend your things to earn them. Since being a kid, Tobias has only gotten more uncomfortable around people getting rather paranoid around them. However strange and out there he seems, Tobias "Red-Ear" Is one of the kindest and thoughtful people. He stands up for what he thinks he should and defends things too weak to defend themselves. He views himself as a gentle person and would rather find a middle solution to a problem to appease both sides of an argument.

Skills:

• Survival Techniques - After living in the forest for so long, and being trained by Brand. Tobias has learned how to survive in most outdoor areas. Living directly off the land and understanding nature in ways few do.
• Stalking - Tobias is a master at hunting and concealing himself, along with his cloak Tobias can often appear invisible in dark lighting and can walk with no sound.
• Animal Identification - Training to become a "beast master", Tobias has to be able to identify almost any creature just by it's scent. Sadly, he is only on a level where he can understand and mimic certain animals calls, understand animal breeding and migration patterns, and identify most tracks and scat.
• Archery - Using a bow to hunt all these years, Tobias has become quite skilled at using one. So skilled in fact he often can use one to get fish, he even hand makes his own arrows.
• Fishing - Tobias is fond of fishing, it's relaxing and easy he says. This is one hobby of Tobias' he will never get tired of and seems to have quite the knack with it.
• Animal Empathy - Understanding animal body language and tone of voice, plus an unnatural sixth sense. Tobias can literally feel how some animals feel, and even with a select few can create a mental bond over strong emotions.
• Limited Mental Communication - Tobias has the innate ability to mentally communicate with various creatures. He's unclear how he can do this as he is still understanding and learning his ability, so far he has been able to communicate with his wolves and spirit animals and has been able to build a strong enough emotional bond towards other animals to create this connection. He believes this power is connect any bond he builds which causes an emotional or spiritual connection which in turn gives him the ability to do this.
• Animal Cognitive - A technique he learned from the druids, Tobias can use his Empathy abilities and his mental bonds to fuse his senses with one of his animals. He can see, hear, smell and feel exactly what they can, he's still training to share the same train of thought.
• Cooking - Another hobby of his, Tobias loves to cook. He enjoys taking animals he's never dealt with before and experimenting with them to flavor their meat. He often refers to himself as a meat fanatic.
• Sculpting - Being good with his hands gives Tobias the ability to sculpt things rather well. Not in a clay pottery idea, more of creating figures from wood or using things from the world in a strange way to create something new.

Equipment:

Tobias is a man of nature, all his weapons he has made by hand or have been given to him since he doesn't believe spending coin for things. An oak longbow is usually seen in his hand with a thick quiver filled with arrows of different quality and type. The only similarity of the arrows are the dark black feathers used for them. On his belt, a small hilt carries a straight iron dagger given to him by Brand which he cherishes as a prized possession. Aside from those, Tobias carries no more weapons. Instead a small nap sack stuffed with a medium sized net and what little food he can scavenge from the landscape and a journal which is not Tobias'. Instead it belongs to a man who is dead now, he traveled far and saw many things. Tobias holds onto this book to reference many things as he claims you can never learn too much from others experiences. He also carries a small pouch for spices and herbs to improve the flavor of dishes.

Companions/Familiars:

Rudolph - A small, brown forest mouse that seems to hold a special bond with Tobias. Often seen discussing things with the creature, this creature has been dubbed one of Tobias' spirit animals and guides him through his path towards becoming a "Beast master".

Alfonse or "Al" - A small bluejay that chooses to come and go as it pleases, also one of his spirit animals. This one seems to come when Tobias least expects it and aids him in ways he can never believe or fully understand. Alfonse looks out for the young lad as best as it can.

Kita & Blue - Two dire wolves, male and female respectively, that seem to follow Tobias' voice command. It is unclear exactly why they view him as their pack leader. Tobias states there used to be more of them, but brothers fall in battle.



Relationships and Acquaintances:

N/A yet.

[Vanquished]

Name:

Sabdrin

Gender:

Female

Age:

26

Race/Ethnicity:

Half-elf (half Drow/half Human)

Appearance:

Sabdrin is a typical half-drow, built shorter and stockier than her Drow father. Her features though remain sharp and angled, her face taking on a hawkish appearance. She has short black hair, kept trimmed by her dagger, that never falls longer than the nape of her neck. Her skin is pale with a grayish tint to it, though she is much lighter skinned than her father. Her eyes are set above high and pronounced cheekbones, the irises a pale lilac color. There is a certain feral grace to her body, a fact only accentuated by her wearing of tanned leathers and pelts.

Bio:

Sabdrin was born to a Drow father and human mother. She knows little of the circumstances of her conception and first few years of life. What she does know is that she never met the human who had birthed her and that her father was displeased to have a half-breed child. Why her father kept her and raised her for a time is a question she believes she will never find an answer to. As it was, from her earliest memories, her father was often distant or disparaging towards her.

Her and her father, Hurzal, traveled from the moment she walked, which was just a few short month's after her birth. By the time she was two years old, they no longer traveled in the safety of numbers and Hurzal had begun to teach her how to survive off the land. The time spent between the two of them was far from idyllic or bonding. Her father routinely reminded her of her human heritage and the weakness it had instilled in her. He spoke of the greatness of the Drow but never of why he himself had left the Drow lands. Sabdrin was left a confused child, the seeds of both self-loathing and supreme arrogance planted to later sprout.

Nearing her seventh birthday, father and daughter found themselves in the Nightwood. It had been a particularly dry summer and wildlife had proven to be scarce even in a forest. The wolves had been bothersome, though Hurzal and Sabdrin had managed to fend off a small pack twice upon entering the forest. The three wolves proved dogged in their tracking though, driven by hunger and desperation. The third attack came at a surprise to the duo. Hurzal managed to easily slay one of the slavering beasts while Sabdrin fought off a second. The third and smallest of the pack joined in the attack at young Sabdrin. In a surprising moment of paternal instincts, Hurzal placed himself in harm's way and dove to protect his daughter and bore the brunt of the attack. The remaining two wolves were slain, but at a mortal cost to Hurzal. A major vein had been severed, though Sabdrin managed to staunch the blood flow long enough for them to stumble upon Brand's house.

They were welcomed in warmly, though neither trusted the situation. The young half-blood was amazed to see so many children of different races staring back at her as the kindly man guided her father to a hay-filled bed. She was ushered away for Brand to set to work, the other children charged with making sure she was fed, cleaned, and her own minor wounds tended to. It was an awkward and uncomfortable situation she found herself in.

When Brand emerged hours later, he softly explained it unlikely for her father to wake again. His wounds were more extensive than the severed vein and though the man had some skill with healing, it would not be enough to fix all that ailed Hurzal. She didn't shed a tear though she did allow herself to be guided to her dying father's bedside. Sabdrin expected to be expelled from the house as soon as her father passed and decided to leave before that could happen, albeit with a full pouch of food and some coins. One of the older children caught her in the act and brought her to the man they all called father. He offered her his house, his protection, his training. Sabdrin accepted it with great suspicion as to the man's actual motives, but a warm bed for a few nights was better than having to set off on her own.

Hurzal did not wake, just as Brand predicted, and Sabdrin did not leave the house for many years, though she often longed to during fits of despair. Her Drow blood made her an outsider and one viewed with suspicion by many of the other children. Her own biases made it difficult for her to get along with her new siblings. Her training however, came naturally. She had in many ways been training all of her short life to be a ranger. Brand's tutelage allowed her skill to grow and manifest in new ways. Yet it wasn't until another outcast orphan arrived that Sabdrin ever truly felt as if Brand's house was a home.

Three years passed with few happy memories formed. Ilta, a tiefling girl who seemed to be just a bit younger than Sabdrin, appeared as so many did at Brand's doorstep. While Sabdrin often fought with the other children, her instant despise towards the tiefling caused vicious fights between the two. Both girls shared equal hatred and could be found screaming at each other and often descended into physical violence. However, it soon became apparent to both that neither girl was well accepted by the others. Though they fought like cats and dogs, the other orphans avoided both equally. This discovery dawned, and in a year's time, Sabdrin had her first friend amongst her adopted brothers and sisters. The unlikely friendship allowed a bond Sabdrin had not ever felt or formed previously. They shared their outsider status, beyond that of being orphaned, both had blood viewed with distaste. Brand had often forced Sabdrin to socialize, and for the first time she willingly sought out another's company. The change from hated enemy to beloved friend was a process Sabdrin didn't remember embarking on, but their fights quickly seemed a distant memory.

In Ilta, the half-drow found a true younger sister. She was protective of the girl though she usually had no need to be. She shared her lessons and own bits of knowledge. The bond they formed lasted years and though her personality was not tamed by it, she saw what it was to have someone close to mind and heart. As seeds of self-loathing had been planted and grown, as the seeds of racial superiority had sprouted, so to did a new seed of hope-of friendship and love. The three conflicted and waged a constant war in the adolescent's formative mind. The scale could be tipped to any side, and only time would tell which would become dominant.

Eight more years passed and Sabdrin approached adulthood. She had in some ways become a gentler and more trusting version of her younger self, though it was a true assessment only in comparison to herself. She was still largely regarded as unsocial and she viewed only Ilta as a true friend. Towards Brand, she felt some kinship but more so, respect. His lessons always revealed more, though Sabdrin felt he held back too much, made her progress too slowly. The years of relative peace seemed to come to an end quickly.

Sabdrin awoke one morning to find that her sister was gone. She waited three days before approaching her father about the matter. Brand sadly explained when confronted that from time to time his children departed him sooner than he wanted, but knew nothing of why she had left. For Sabdrin, it meant that her hope and trust had been misplaced. Her first lessons in life were the right ones, not what had slowly grown to replace them. A rift was formed that was never truly mended. Sabdrin became withdrawn once again, refusing to associate with the other children that had trickled in over the years.

Now one of the eldest ones present, she refused the duties Brand gave her. Several months passed before an explosive argument left her leaving what had been her home for well over a decade. Though she tried to stop herself, she spent almost two years looking for her sister and friend. Traces of the tiefling were far and few between, but each glimpse of hope of finding the girl spurred her on. She never did succeed and was only left more bitter over the affair and her own failure of being what she was meant to be. During this time, Sabdrin lived much the same as she had as a young girl with her father. The lessons learned from Brand aided her greatly in staying unseen by animal and man.

A new driving force took over, one of revenge. Before she had left in a fit of anger, Brand had given her one last thing; a letter her father had written her as he lay dying. Though the initial fight had been about her lack of performing duties and evolved into a fight over Ilta, the final spark had been that he had hidden the letter from her for so many years. She had read the letter countless times. In seeing death, it seemed, Hurzal had wanted his daughter to know the truth of his life. He had been cast of the underdark for funding a failed assassination attempt against another Drow. He had been lucky that Lloth spoke of benevolence to her priests and he was exiled rather than executed. His cause had been left unfinished, and Sabdrin took it upon herself as a Drow to do so for him, to succeed where he failed. To prove herself worthy of her Drow blood.

Her travels to seek revenge, however, brought her back to the Nightwood. Buried emotions that still warred for supremacy won out, and she found herself approaching familiar paths that would take her back to her childhood.

Psychological Profile:

Conflicted. Sabdrin has hated the weakness of her human blood and gloried in the racial supremacy of her Drow blood. She has learned to cast aside inherent distrust and paranoia in favor of love and friendship only to see that quickly dashed. She views herself as better than any except the pureblood Drow, yet despises them as well for what they did to her father. She has never come to grips with her young childhood spent with a man she hardly knows and struggles to remember. Towards Brand too, her emotions are mixed. She respected him and his knowledge greatly and acknowledges she would not be half the woman she is today without his guidance. She blames him as well though, for the vulnerability she feels nearly destroyed her following Ilta's departure. She feels some guilt for never having made amends, and anger than she would feel guilt over something she feels she should consider trivial.

To the man that murdered her adoptive father though, she can feel only want of vengeance. Though her feelings towards Brand remain unresolved, the situation of his death merits only one answer-revenge at any cost. Any who stand between her and the meting of justice as she sees, are the enemy as well.

Skills/Talents/Abilities:

Shape-shifter: The stronger she grew in her Ranger skills and the more quieted her Drow consciousness became, the more she opened herself to the other half that made her. Her mother's human blood gave her the adaptability to become a shape-shifter, her encompassing knowledge of wildlife formed the ability. Only one form is known to her at the moment, due in part to the loss of her human perspective her progress has halted momentarily. For the time being, she can shift the form of a jackdaw.

Ranger: Lessons started at a very young age under her father and blossomed under Brand's tutelage. Sabdrin knows how to hunt, how to remain unseen if she wishes it, how to perform upkeep on her weapons, and most importantly, how to improvise in many varying situations. She knows which vegetation is edible, poisonous, and has a rudimentary understanding of mixing poultices.

Dual Daggers: Though she can use a bow, Sabdrin prefers killing up close and personal when she can. Much like her companion animal, she has two daggers she considers to be her own claws and uses them just as effectively either in hunting or in combat.

Night Sight: Sabdrin sees well in the dark, even in times of new moons or overcast skies.

Magical Resistance: Her drow blood grants a slight resistance to Divine spells.

Animal Mutation: Sabdrin has gained the ability to smell the world around her much as an animal would. She can detect approaching enemies, sniff out hidden foes, and track by sense of smell. She can also identify familiar odors the way humans do familiar sights.

Sweet Tooth: Though she tries to hide it, she has a great affinity for sweet things. They were a luxury never had when traveling with her father and a love developed from her time living with Brand in the Nightwood.

Needlework: Sabdrin has an ability beyond simply and crudely mending cloth. When she finds herself with idle hands she's been known to embroider delicate designs.

Equipment:

Fur and Leather: Sabdrin has made much of what she currently wears, having tanned the leather herself and prepared the furs for long wear. Her ability with a needle and thread means she has also personally pieced together the various layers into a warm and flexible protection. Many of the pelts have been taken from wolves, her distaste for the creatures stemming from her childhood. Fur lined-leather boots for her feet, thin and slightly loose leather leggings, and a fur tunic for her upper body provide some protection against weapons, but is largely meant to allow her to blend in to the forests she sticks to. She also has made a large fur cloak either for wear in winter, but also as her only blanket for when she beds down.

Daggers: Two steel daggers that serve as her primary weapons. The weapons are curved like a claw. They are obviously well maintained, sharp as the day she received them and free of rust or dirt.

Necklace: One of the only possessions of her father than Sabdrin kept, she wears the worked metal spider necklace always, as a reminder of her true heritage. It hangs on a leather cord that she's replaced several times. The spider itself was finely crafted and remains untarnished, it is roughly the size of her thumb.

Medium-sized Pack: A brown leather pack that contains: small rations of dried rabbit/squirrel meat, three bone needles of various sizes, coarse thread and one spool of finer thread, one well read letter, a whetstone, a flint, a simple harness that can be used to transfer the pack itself to Widge

Waterskin: freshly filled and nearly full

Companions/Familiars:

Widge - a lynx Sabdrin has had as a companion for four years

Relationships and Acquaintances:

Ilta - largely covered in bio

[Nariata]

Birthname: Noramros Given name: Barith

Gender: Male

Age: 31

Race/Ethnicity:Half-elf/Wood-Vendish


Appearance: Noramros appearance is both a product of his blood and of the life he has lived. As with most Half-elves his age, he is rather tall for a wood elf. Standing in at a height close to what most would consider just under the average height of a human male. For his height most would consider Noramros extremely thin and lanky, though this has nothing to due with him more so because of his father's heritage. A feature that is often overlooked on him is his strong muscular build which is hidden well in his thin body, a feature from his father's race as well. Though this is not the reason people are able to pick him out as a Half-elf, the pointy ears and the high cheekbones do that job just fine. His deep sapphire eyes and long white hair also give way that he looks more elven in appearance than man, even though he is only a half blood. The only scar he carriers in on the lower left side of his jaw.

His appearance is more of an indication towards his the life he has lived with Brand. For simple day to day tasks he wears a simple light brown coloured lace up shirt, likewise coloured pants and some simple yet durable boots. Though when it comes to his current travel, he prefers to wear some armor. Over top his shins, thighs and forearms he wears some light weight yet very durable armor, coloured in a bright green color. His shin armor is the most interesting looking of the set, covered in a vine like design that stretches across the entire piece. The vine like design is of a similar colour to his pants and shirt. Moving up to his thigh armor, this is nothing more than three pieces of armor overlapping each other to form a sort of scale styled armor The final piece of this set is also a form of scale armor, but more well designed. Two pieces of armor, leaf like in shape, overlap covering from his wrist all the way to just below his elbow with the same light brown color as a trim around the edges.

Besides these pieces of armor, he only wears light leather armor over his chest, some durable gloves over his hands, the leather belt which also holds the quiver for his arrows and a nice fur cape and hood combo over top, dyed to match the colour of the vegetation.

Linky

Psychological Profile: Noramros's early years still have a lingering effect on the person he is today. He still feels angry at most humans and has trouble letting any get close to him personally or physically. He also finds it hard to trust them, often it takes a lot of convincing from their end for him to accept their words as truth This is in no way caused by any one event, but more by the myriad of problems which conspiried agianst him. His mother's hate when he was young was the first exposure he had to the human race and their problems. When he ran away from that toxic life he found himself placed in another, even more toxic one. Mentally he could bear that, but once Eryana was take from him he could bare it no longer, his anger would have turned to outright hate had it not been for the saving grace that was Brand.

Though this does not mean Noramros is this angry half-elf who closes himself off at the first site of a human. Thanks to people like Brand and some children at his house he knows there are exceptions.. Though he may come off as angry and will not trust them at first he will open up to them if they prove they are well meaning. Though he is still shy thanks to his time alone in the forest and sometimes has trouble finding conversations that he can talk well enough in. When he dose find one, he lets his inner Wood Elf loose.

Bio: Noramros grew up without a father figure in his life and with a mother who hated him. He was an unwanted child, nothing more than the byproduct of a band of Wood Elves who had their way with his mother when she was traveling between two towns. Anger was something his mother was known for after his birth, an anger directed towards the world of men in general and often projected onto him. He remembers this time very well, it's was a place no child should ever be exposed to let alone raised in. Soon after he had turned eight, her anger towards men turned into something much worse, hate. No matter what race or ethnicity his mother would hate them all equally. He could bare the hate from his mother for only so long and shortly after he turned twelve he ran away. He followed the road to the east with nothing more than the clothes on his back, a small backpack with what food he could steal from his mother and a walking stick to help him along.

When he arrived at the thrid town along the road, he knew he had found his new home. Not because the people there were friendly to him, quite the opposite actually. The humans here were very cruel to him because of his Elven heritage. The tensions in this town was still high after the war between men and Elves had ended, many of the other homeless children who roamed the streets were orphaned as a result of that war. The reason this town became his home was because it was where he met a half blood with a story the same as his, her name was Eryana. Though she was his elder by four years, they quickly became good friends in their own right. Even though life in this town was hard, it was made easier for Noramros because he and Eryana suffered through it together. The hungry nights, the fights with the human children and the relentless assault of racial slurs, all made easier. She taught him many things in their first year together, such as how to steal without being noticed, how to speak Elven and how to defend one self, his favorite way was with the use throwing knives though he was not known to shy away from the close up fights when they presented themselves. After a year of knowing each other, they began a relationship.

Life in this town was hard, but after another year it was soon made impossible when another small war broke out between men and Elves. With the tensions against all Elves raised he and Eryana stole some supplies and left the town, preparing to live out of the forest, but the townsfolk had other plans for the two young Half Elves. Noramros had been spared from what was about happen only by a stroke of luck and his quick Elven feet. They were not ten minutes into their walk down the road when they struck. The first sound he heard was a loud thud to his left, followed by a screech which echoed forth from Eryana's mouth. When he turned to see what happened a second fired arrow grazed the bottom of his lower jaw, and the shouts of their unknown pursuers were finally heard. The last thing he remembers Eryana saying, though no words were spoken, was run. And so he did. In the dense forest the men chasing him had no chance of catching him, their human blood was too clumsy in this area for them to have any hope of doing so. Lost, confused and both angry and sad, Noramros spent the rest of that night in tears.

He managed to survive the first two months only barely. It was hard for him to adapt to the forest, if it wasn't the constant noise from the creatures then it was the constant fear of an animal getting him while he slept that slowly started to drive him mad. Though he was not completely at a loss, he still had his knives and the ability to throw them with a reasonable amount of accuracy. This meant he could still hunt some small game with a fair degree of success, and this helped him manage before he found his first companion. The first he head was the crying of an injured animal early one morning, the source of which was a young injured wolf, left for dead by his pack from some accident or fight. He was an Omega, an outcast like him. They were alike, and when he and the wolf's eyes met he knew he had found a friend. As he approached he spoke only one phrase over and over again.Chu Set, Elven for keep calm, and the wolf did. Over the next couple weeks he nursed it back to full strength and he became a loyal and welcome companion for him, and Eshe as he named him would have been his own for the rest of their time together until he met Brand

Brand found him late one winter night, huddled up for warmth with Eshe around a small fire. The first he heard of Brands presence was when Eshe started to growl, the old ranger had managed to make it into the camp undetected. To the wolf he said Chu set, Eshe Chu set, the old man came with weapons not drawn so he did not feel threatened. Even that being so, their first moments were still silent and tension hanged in the air. This was the first contact he had with any other person in almost one year, and the last time his eyes saw a human face it was one that was trying to kill him. There they stood, facing each other around the small fire he had built. Still neither had pierced the silence that hung over Noramros's camp, he not trusting the human and Brand mostly taking in the appearance of this dirt covered, savage looking young Half-elf. After a moment it was Brand who broke the silence, though to Noramros's surprise he did so in Elven, though his accent was strong. Asking if he was cold, and if he wanted a house to stay for the winter. If it was any other man Noramros would have said no, but there was something so sincere and genuine about the way Brand asked he could not help himself following Brand home that night. He would not leave the company of Brand for around the next twelve years.

While he left a skilled Ranger in all aspects with a couple close family members in his heart, his arrival at the house was nothing short of an awkward sight. Eshe and Brand were the only people he trusted in the entire house for the first couple months, even though there were other half bloods there he never got along well with them. He and Brand both associated this with his year alone with Eshe in the forest, and his mind needed time to adapt to living with others agian. Over and over again Brand spoke the same thing, he needed to make friends within his new family. As Brand did with the others, he tried to make Noramros socialize with the other children. He eventually found a friend in Thora, one's whose blood seemed even more mixed than any he has met. Though they were different in many aspects what brought them together in friendship was the similar pain they went through early on in life, and she also seemed to like petting Eshe. As he opened up to both Thora and Brand, it became easier to do with the other children as well. He still was shy and very remote from the others, but as the years dragged on he began to embrace his inner Wood Elf, enjoying the gifts that life brought him. Though when Thora departed some years later, he felt a little sad but he knew their paths would cross in the future.

A few years after Noramros, now aged twenty seven, decided it was his time to depart the house as well. Though he was sad to leave Brand and his house, he knew it was for the best. He could learn no more from Brand and he wanted to further his studies into healing magic. As he and Eshe were leaving, Brand gave him one last piece of advice, head west where a small settlement filled with half bloods of all kinds was located. It was here he settled for the next several years making coins from hunting animals and training under the experienced healers.

Now the news of Brands death at the hands of the kings men has reached him. Defiant even in death, the story of Brand spread like wildfire across the settlement. Using what coin he had he bought new armor and some basic supplies for the walk towards the Nightwoods. He knows his family will not be happy about the news, and he knew he would be there to stand by them. A man such as Brand deserved a proper funeral and Noramros would make sure that he got one.


Skills/Talents/Abilities:
Healer- The past five years he has been studying under the careful eyes of some experienced healers. He is accomplished in his own right after the 5 years, though he is by no means an expert. It still takes him time to form a connection with the person or creature needing to be healed and even longer to mend the injury itself. He can heal somewhat well under stress, though he prefers he not be when he does. This has served as a source of income for him in the settlement.
Ranger- The skills of a Ranger were driven into him by both his solo time in the forest and under the teachings of Brand. As with the other children who learned under Brand, he is an accomplished tracker, hunter, archer and trapper. Hunting and trapping animals of all shapes and sizes has served as his primary source of income in the settlement. He knows how to keep his daggers sharp but as far as producing his own clothes go, he's out of luck.
Throwing- Besides the bow, Noramros is an accurate knife thrower. Learning how to do it originally out of self defense when he was a runaway and later when he was in the forest, it is one of his oldest and most well trained skills.
Random throwing- He has developed an annoying habit to most when he was alone in the forest. He developed out of bordom randomly throwing his knives into random objects. This has both brought his skill in throwing up and caused some minor injuries while in Brands house.
Silent steps- Another trick coming from his times on the street, he can move very silently through streets and forests.
Money- Noramros rarely spends the money he makes, only on the rent for the house and his recent armor purchase.
Language -Elven, common.
Swords - Though not very good at fighting with them, he has had some practice and will be able to somewhat defend himself when the situation calls for it. He mostly uses it to block until he has a moment when he can throw another knife.

Equipment:

Short bow and arrows – Unlike some of the other rangers, Noramros prefered the use of the short bow to that of a long bow. He was not the most accurate shot early on, so the ability to fire a second arrow if his first was not a fatal shot proved more useful than the added power. In total he carries 30 arrows, all with a light brown fletching.
Knives- He carries with him 20 throwing knives. Two are located on the top of his back, two are located on the sides of his lower back, four are located in his shin armor, two are by his wrists and the rest on his belt.
Sword - A slightly curved even short sword, located across the bottom of his back with the hilt facing out towards the right.
Small travel bag – A small brown bag which he carries his couple days worth of food, sharpening stone and a filled waterskin.
Elven ranger armor – With most of his saved money he purchased a cheap set of Elven armor. See appearance
Flintbox – One of the last items he and Eyrana stole together, though it is well worn out he keeps this in memory of her.
Small bed roll - Carried in his bag, nothing fancy just enough to sleep on.


Companions/Familiars:
Eshe - His ageing wolf friend and constant companion. Eshe carried his spirits through many lonely winter nights. Though he is not the same, strong wolf he was when they first met, he still stays by his side. His fur is a light grew with streaks of black running through.


Relationships and Acquaintances:
Thora Thorvaldardóttir- First person outside of Brand he opened up to. Though they are different both by appearance and attitude they developed their friendship on the basis of shared pain from the loss of loved ones at the hands of humans. Towards the end of her time at Brands house he began to call her Nys, sister in Elven tongue, and Noramros considers her one of his closest family members. He was sad but understanding of her departure, and he is waiting for the day he can see his Nys again.

[Ellri]

We decided to rewrite it to hammer out personality and thought pattern a bit.

Historian's note:
The exact origins of this manuscript have never been verified. Its author has never been found. It first came to light when servants went to clean up the hall of the king of Grímasteinn in preparation for his arrival and victory feast after the great victory of the battle of giant's hill. It was firmly wrapped around an arrow driven deeply into his throne, right where his head would have been. The Royal carpenters had to work for hours to get the entire arrowhead out.


Patrols were doubled after its discovery, then tripled once its contents came to light. Two guardsmen were reported missing the following day, but no amount of reward managed to drive them out of hiding. Eventually it was discovered that someone had used powerful fire magics within the walls of the castle that very day, so it is presumed that they were utterly consumed by fire. The fact that it rained hard that day is used to explain why the smell of burning flesh was not noticed.

~| The journals of Nightwood, part I |~
~| 5-32-276 |~

I offer thee greetings stranger. I am Thora Thorvaldardóttir, a ranger of Nightwood, trained by Brand himself. You probably have never heard of me. Nor should you, for I have yet to do anything worthy of notice far and wide, but I have been around. Some people, not you I hope, would look upon me with scorn, for I am not like most others. You might consider yourself human, elven or perhaps dwarven. I cannot lay claim to such. For generations uncounted, my entire family has been neither human nor elven, but something in between. Near as be from what few learned scholars I have met, I show the physical traits of being two thirds elven, one third human. Naturally, this means that both humans and elves spur me regularly.


Ok, I know you're curious now. What do I look like? That is a good question. Beyond blurred reflections in forest pools, I have only seen my reflection once in the past ten years. Imagine a female wood elf. Long pointed ears, dark skin, thin, narrow and short body, sharply angled face, drawn bow pointed at your face. I am almost like that, except that I am slightly taller, my ears are shorter and my face isn't quite so sharply angled. To be exact, I stand just a touch taller than one hundred and forty-six of your units and weight less than your average woman. And you can't see me, for where the wood elf stands in the open, ready to fight you. I am hidden. My bow is heavier than hers and has longer range. Sometimes I hide in a bush, other times a tree. You never know. You will not find me, no matter how many you send to hunt me. I will find you, though. And I will repay the debt owed. A life for a life.






Historian's note:
Found wrapped around an arrow driven through the eye socket of the king's chief scout, one famous for never being caught off-guard. He was tied up like a scarecrow at the time of the discovery, in the middle of a farmer's field.

~| The journals of Nightwood, part II|~
~| 6-11-276 |~

Hello again. You should have known better than to try to find me. Not that I expected you not to try. I feel like I am almost getting to know you, so I will offer you one small bit of information. I am, so far as I know, thirty-six years old. Not that that will help you much, for I do not age the way elves or humans do. My kind are unique. I will leave it to you to puzzle out how, or rather, your scholars.


Now, about me. I was born in a small border village whose name is long forgotten, for it no longer exists. Its people were ruthlessly put to sword. My father, Thorvald Hálfdanarson, was among them. That happened some twenty to twenty-five years ago, so I doubt you remember. You were merely crown prince back then. I have discovered how you led the raids against the neighboring kingdom in the name of your father, so I have no doubt you were responsible for my father's death. Just like the death of Brand. I have carried the image of his decapitated head in my head for all these years. It has inspired me greatly. When I decide it is time, nothing will keep me away from you.
Signed,
Thora Thorvaldardóttir


Historian's note:
The third scroll was, like the others, found wrapped firmly around an arrow. This time it was driven through the throat of a member of the command staff of the royal army, right in the middle of its main encampment. Again, no one saw anything of note.

~| The journals of Nightwood, part 1II|~
~| 6-20-276 |~

After witnessing your senseless slaughter of my family and village, I ran. For days without pause, I ran. Sometimes east, sometimes north. Or south. I did not care. I had to get away. For a long time, I do not know exactly how long, I stayed in the forest, living on what I could scavenge or hunt. Yes, even as a child, I was a skilled hunter. Now I am better. Just ask your chief scout. Oh wait, you can't. I killed him.


Before long, I was far away from your war. I did not thrive in the forest, but neither did I starve. The trees guided me, helping me survive and find my way. Only luck resulted in me ever growing up to speak to you through these journals, for as near as I can recall, sometime around two weeks after the slaughter, I found myself prey, not predator. A Nercat of the forest, thought me an easy meal. I never saw it coming, it knocked me down. Just as it was about to tear out my throat, a great wolf knocked it away. The wolf, along with its pack, had been following me in secret for days. They sensed that I was in some mysterious way kin. I do not, to this day, know how. They killed the cat, but would not eat its flesh, saying it was tainted by evil. I cannot explain how I understood them. Perhaps it was instinctive understanding, perhaps thought transfer, or simply magic. No matter what it was, I was eternally thankful to them, for they saved my life.


To this day, I still carry the scars upon my arms and chest from the Nercat. The wolves continued to protect me, even helped me hunt for myself, teaching me better how to move silently through the forests. And they led me north. Each time I came to the edge of one pack's territory, the neighboring pack was already there to take me further. In my entire time there, I never saw any other people. The wolves kept themselves, and thus also me, away from them. It soon became clear that they had a target in mind. They knew of a great man, friend of forest and wolf alike, who they claimed would take me in. To say I was reluctant is taking it easy. I knew that men like you had slaughtered my father and all others I knew.But the wolves were unrelenting. Eventually, when I would not go meet him, they split up and brought him to me instead. That man was Brand of Nightwood. And you killed him.
Thora Thorvaldardóttir



Historian's note:
The fourth, and currently final, scroll was not found. It was received. It was received, by arrow to the mouth, by the late lady Tiamina, whose husband recently became the earl of Barkstead. She was, at the time, out riding and hawking. No one else perished, but the guardsmen escorting her could not find the assassin. Their double failure ensured them a slow and painful death.

~| The journals of Nightwood, part IV|~
~| 6-20-276 |~

At first seeing him, I tried to run. He was, like I know you to be, human. I have seen you, so I know. You think your guards good, but they aren't. But then, they are merely human. The wolves stopped me from running far, and to my surprise, Brand did not try to come to me. He simply sat down and began to make a fire. I did not understand at first why he simply did not use magic to light it, but as I would later learn, most people did not know how to wield fire-magic. He was so patient with me, never rushing, but letting me feel comfortable in coming to him. I tried to stay away, but the combination of the wolves and the smell of juicy meat cooking broke down my resistance. Oh, did he know how to cook meat. He coaxed me forth, eventually even managed to get me to reveal my wounds, which he then proceeded to clean and wrap. Then he let me eat till my stomach felt like it would burst. Eventually, I started to drift off to sleep, but I did not mind that he was there. Like the wolves, he now felt safe. And you killed him.


When I woke up, he still sat there upon the fallen log, beside the fire. He made me eat, checked my wounds and managed to coax out my story, all in one morning. He was simply amazing. I have never since met anyone like him, and now he is dead. Because of you.


He took me to his home, a cozy little place. There were other people there, both older and younger than me, but I did not meet any of them during the first few days. Only slowly did Brand introduce me to them. He knew how shy I was, how uneasy I was around people back then. Eventually, he started teaching me all he could. I had a purpose, so I gladly absorbed his every lesson. Archery. Knife-fighting. Fist-fighting. Climbing. Tracking. Everything I needed to know.


As the years passed, more people arrived and all those older than me left. Soon he not only had me learning, but also teaching and helping raise the others, for many were hardly more than infants when they arrived. Brand took them all in. He was a good man. And you killed him. I got close to a few, but not all. Eventually, the point came when I had learned all I could and passed on what I could to others. I knew deep down that it was time to leave. I needed to learn what could not be learned in Nightwood. The name and identity of my father's murderer.


With your murder of Brand, you have murdered both my fathers, not just one. This is a debt that can only be repaid in half, and I will make you pay.
Thora Thorvaldardóttir,
Ranger of Nightwood





Psychological Profile:
Shy. She is slow to take to people, preferring to keep to herself, but she can be coaxed out.
Loyal. If someone gains her loyalty, they need not fear betrayal. She holds her friends dearly.
Vengeful. Thora does not easily forgive. Her life-long goal has been to avenge her father. Now avenging Brand is part of that goal as well. That the same person is responsible for both, makes it easier.
Ruthlessly honorable. She has a strange sense of honor. She won't participate in, or even condone, the slaughter of innocents. Her definition of guilt is not the same as others. What she considers crimes, she will not hesitate to punish.
Not entirely sane. She shows minor signs of madness, generally in the form of over-reactive idiosyncracies.
Fish. She will not eat fish, no matter how it is prepared. She will eat pretty much anything else, including raw meat, but under no circumstances will she eat fish.
Cats. Following her childhood encounter with a Nercat, nothing will make her accept that any feline is acceptable. More than once she's been caught having killed felines. Her only excuse was that “it was tainted by evil.”

Skills:
Her skills are those expected of a well-trained ranger. Hunting, tracking, sneaking, archery, mixed close combat.
Her archery skills are on the level of mastery, as is her ability to hide within forested lands.
And there's the added skill of fire magic. She can't control more than a fraction of it, but its there nonetheless. Beyond the ability to light fire without kindling or fire stones, it generally mostly rears its head in the form of arrows randomly catching fire and burning up or turning into fireballs.
She also knows how to read and write (obviously, considering her journals.)




Equipment:
Worn:
Clothes. Woodsy colors, made to last and serve well in forests.
Water-resistant cloak with hood. Also colored to blend well into nature.
Knife. Well-made, but free from ornamentation.
Heward's handy haversack* - gift from another ranger, perhaps Brand.
In pack (side pouches):
Bow with quiver of arrows. Heavy draw compared to her height, but perfectly suited for her. Arrows are well-made but not perfect. No clear pattern to their makes, indicating that many have been lost over time.
Travel rations. Enough to last if hunting is unsuccessful, but not that much.
Two water skins. Unremarkable.
In pack (main chamber):
Sleeping blankets.No more needs be said about these.
Tent.Suitable for one person, but with space for two if they are comfortable with each other.
Coinage. Enough to get by, but no fortune.
Spare knife. Always good to have a spare.
Rope. 30m. With grappling hook.
Needle and gut thread. Useful to have.
First aid equipment. Also useful.
Trinkets. Odds and ends. A few of these are also carried, but its a bit vague exactly what they are.


*Heward's handy haversack: Size of a normal backpack, constant weight of 2.5 kg. Single main portion capable of holding up to 80 liters or 50 kg as well as two side pouches capable of holding 20 L or 15 kg each. Any item put in is located at the top when needed, hence the "handy" in the name. (converted and somewhat shrunk from non-metric version.)


Companions/Familiars:
Thora is rather fond of wolves and will often associate with them, but she has no permanent companion. She hates cats and fish.

Relationships and Acquaintances:
We're open for suggestions.

She has met all the others, but is not very close to all that many of them. She considers them friends, but not much more. She shows dislike for those who have feline companions, suspecting that they are somehow influenced by evil.

[thorgili]

Name: Thorgili Stonehelm
Gender: Male
Age:125
Race/Ethnicity: Dwarven/mountain
Appearance:
the image didn't work so here is the link http://xamlllew.deviantart.com/art/C...-ink-290217291
(the image more describes his colthing and hair more than his actual looks) Short and stout as most of his kind most of his wieght is in a large beer gut and raw muscle his face is pale and weathered from many a harsh mountain wind he has a long dark orang e beard and maine both of which are tied up in a variety of braids and trying as long as possible to make it look as extravagant as possible.
(Picture or Text; your call. I'm more of a text guy, myself.)

Bio: Born in the ancestral home of the Stonehelms Thorgili grew up as a normal dwarven noble learnign in battle and diplomatics he showed to be a promising ruler when his time to be heir came but it was in the dwarven campaign against the Giant folk of the northern mountain ranges. Leading his troops against a large settlement of giants the battle went as planned and the outlook was well until the other Giant clans from the east and west came trhough the valley trapping the dwarves between the two enemies the forces. It was a massacre few survived long enough for thorgili to call the retreat and even more then where lost during the flee he came home to his people defeated and in chains he was brought before the dwarven council. They ignored his pleas that he knew nothing of the giants plans to flank them and the final verdict was that he was to be exiled into the wilderness with only a Arabesques and axe.
He wandered in the forests until he came across nightwood there he found the forests vast and full of aminals to trap it was while checkign a beaver trap in a stream he came across the Woodsman he approached like a shadow even the dwarf's honed senses couldn't dectect him as he crept up behind him their first meeting wasn't very pleasent it began with a long stare down thorgili's rifle pointed at the woodsman head and the woodsman's arrow and bow the same. But it was he the woodsman who put down their weapon first and spoke to the dwarf asking him questions of how he got there and why he was so far from the mountain halls of his kinfolk at frist Thorgili was rather reluctant to answer these questions but with some minor pressing the woodsman got it out of the dwarf he told the man of his exile and how he had wandered for so almost all his years. Still young for a dwarf and haven't lived in the same home for no longer than a few days at a time he was quite glad when the man offered to bring him in his home and eventually their friendship budded and eventually he was Adopted by the old man who taught him how to hunt and trap he became quite skilled in the latter making devious traps to capture his prey. Eventually when he grew tired of the woods he wandered once more leaving the old man and going out into the open world he stayed here and there making a living by hunting and trapping but soon other less honorable occupations where offered particularly by Mercenary service who yearned to have a man of such skill during the year before the old man's death he worked for a variety of mercenary groups and even one or two adventure bands all of whose goals of making great riches where failed when he heard of the man's death he hurried to his adopted home to attend the burial of the man who offered him a new chance and a warm home. When he returned home and learned the news of how his demise came to be thorgili already beliggerent in nature was furious and wouldn't sit around and wait while he could be out having vengance.

Psychological Profile:
Belligerent in Nature thorgili has the common traits of a dwarf especially in being untrustful of those of a forgein nature or culture epsecialy elves even though to him many where his brothers and sisters. he tends to be wary of all promises of great riches and fame as his experiances with mercenary and advenutring bands have shown he also tends to have a certain affinity to fire especially explosives making very found his the rudimentary gun powder weapons that his folk ahve created. Above all he values Vengeance at the most and will stop at nothing to avenge the death of the Old man and anyone who falls when helping him gain his vengeance.


Skills/Talents/Abilities:
Amateur Gunsmith: Having many days to take apart and reassemble his arquebus he can fix any minor problems and if given enough time and tools may even be able to upgrade and improve his weapon. With this he also has learned some of the alchemical traits of gunpowder and can make it if he has the raw materials (charcoal Sulphur Saltpeter and Graphite)

Trap maker: He can make many devious traps such as snares and bear traps inorder to capture prey and people alike.

Pyrotechnic: He has a love of flames and is skilled enough in it to make explosives and fireworks that can cause a great amount of indiscriminate damage to enemy and even ally if done improperly.

Drinker: He can hold his liquor known for inhalling casks of whiskey in one sitting with only the payback of a minor headache the day after.

Equipment:

Arbquebus

Dwarven walking axe (also acts as a stand for his Arbques
[IMG]http://www.ebladestore.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/image/02067325ba47ad6dbc32075e74e23f9c/u/c/uc1415_op.jpg/IMG]

Bear traps: Amoung his various traps are bear traps which can easily trap a human within it's steel jaws

Hog Snares : While made for trapping large wild boar it can be used if needed to quickly suspend a human high above the ground.

Camping supplies: Bed roll flint and steel blanket pots and pans a small one man tent a water sack, a torch and a gunny sack for storing game

Food: Simple Rations of hardtack and dried stripes of beef that must be watered down by large amounts of water in order to be disgested

Companions/Familiars:

Thorgili has a profond fondness for hunting dogs in particular his campanion Thorgrim who has wondered with him ever since he frist left Night wood. This dog has joined him on many days of hunting keeping him company on those long winter nights waiting for the wandering bear to approach his baits. Thorgrim Is much like his master often barking at new people and is one good terms with few besides his master.


Relationships and Acquaintances:

(You do not need to fill this out immediately, but this should include other characters, after you talk it over with various players as the RP fills out. I want to have an idea of who fancies whom and who they can't stand and all the in-betweens. Since they are family, you are required to fill this out for every character eventually.)

[Vanquished]

Still working on the CS. The bio is far longer than I meant, if you feel I took too many liberties in describing her upbringing with Brand, I will gladly edit. I am however, going to need to finish this tomorrow as I'm way too tired to finish now.

[Nariata]

Im just having issues starting my bio. I always get close to finishing it but always someone posts with a bio too similar and i am forced to restart it -_-

[Merle]

That is always frustrating, it's why I tend to post as I slowly work through something, not that one cannot have similar characters or ideas but it prevents accidental carbon copies. If you get stuck, there is always IRC to bounce ideas off other people or just get some feedback. It's fun and besides we don't bite...much... ;D

-----

For myself, I think I have most of my CS done, but like Vanq, I am off to sleep for a bit and then I shall be forced to pursue some droll literature... after which I hope to have some time to work on the remaining portions.