Accepted:
Pending:

Feel free to add catagories to this, if you like

Name:
Gender:
Class: What's your job in the party? Do you heal? Make spells? Shoot things? Talk?
Race:
Description:
Why you're adventuring with the party: Don't list literally everything, and keep in mind that you should have room to grow.
Notable skills or equipment:
Background:

Some classes I thought of just now; by no means should this list limit you:

I will add answers to this as you decide things in OOC.

• Who is the best cook?
• Who owes someone else a favor, and what is it?
• How did you meet?
• What is the best purchase your party ever made?
• Who is the messiest person?
• Who is the most dependable?
• Who should never, ever keep watch again, and why?
• What's the most illegal thing you've done?

Name of race:
Rakeesh, but more widely known as Ratlings.

Geographical location:
Though they claim home to the southern mountains, near the holds of the dwarfs, the Rakeesh have begun to slowly spread across the continent.

Common physical attributes
The Rakeesh have the appearance of bipedal, roughly man sized rats. Their bodies are built for speed and agility, on average being twice as fast as an average human, but typically being weaker in raw strength by large margins. The fur that covers their bodies is very fine and thick, insulating them from the cold well enough while secreting an oil that effectively waterproofs the fur. Most fur is brown in color, with those born with black, gray, or white being relatively rarer.

Rakeesh vision is fairly poor in the sunlight, needing tinted goggles just to see without pain, but their darkvision is incredibly developed. To compensate, they have evolved an acute sense of hearing that is almost on par with an elf and a sense of smell that is unrivaled by any sentient species.

Beliefs (non-religious):
The color of ones fur is an incredibly important part of Rakeesh culture, with those born with black fur being seen as natural warriors, those with white fur destined for scholarly pursuits, and gray fur marking one as touched by the winds of magic. Those pups born with these furs are taken to live in the three major colleges where they are trained in their specific specializations, while the more common brown fur is looked upon as a sliding scale, with darker shades of brown are expected to be hardier while lighter shades are expected to be more cunning. However true albinism is seen as an oddity, hotly debated as either a good or ill omen.

Due to births being heavily regulated, the actual breeding and raising being done by a specific caste, and the minimal physical differences between the sexes has to lead to the Rakeesh to simply not care about gender and it's place in society. A female is just as likely to be a soldier than a house keeper and vice versa.

Family:
Rakeesh pups are raised by the Matrons Guild, the only ones permitted to have children. It is a communal effort, with pups being sorted into potential trades based on physical traits, mental faculties, and general temperment. Outside of the Matrons breeding is banned and it is normal, but not mandatory, for many Rakeesh to chemically castrate themselves by ingesting a particular fungus.

Rakeesh are incredibly social creatures who require physical contact with others to stay mentally healthy, so much so that solitary confinement is considered a horrible punishment. They are open with and very physical with their affections, with a favorite leisure time activity is napping in large, comfortable piles. Romance is no different and as long as no births come out of it is supported wholeheartedly, with polyamory being the norm.

Education:
Most Rakeesh are uneducated outside of their professions, with a large majority being manual laborers, carpenters, and masons. The crowning jewel of Rakeesh education, however, is the Triumvirate, the three great colleges and their subsidiaries.

Hierarchy:
Rakeesh society is ruled by a council made of the best individuals in various fields, with a majority of the power being held by the Field Marshal, the High Architect, and the Gray Priest.

Language:
The Rakeesh language is characterized by rapid-fire chittering, squeaks, and trills, with words being repeated to add emphasis. This bleeds into any other language they learn.

Name:
Skeetch

Gender:
Male

Class:
Fighter

Race:
Rakeesh

Description:
Skeetch is fairly tall by Rakeesh standards, reaching up to five foot six when he stands straight and has the muscle of a trained soldier. He has pitch black fur which is crisscrossed with small scars along his arms, snout, and chest. His tail is about as long as he is tall and his eyes are as dark as his fur.

Why you're adventuring with the party:
Skeetch was lonely and latched onto the first group of people who would take him in.

Notable skills or equipment:
Military Training- Skeetch was raised from birth to be a Vanguard, the halberd wielding heavy infantry of the Rakeesh military. He's much stronger than he looks and fights with a ferocity only a rat backed into a corner can have, which combined with his natural swiftness and agility makes for a deadly warrior.

Rakeeshi Halberd- His weapon of choice, the Rakeeshi Halberd, or Skiket, is more like a sword on a stick than what is traditionally thought of as a halberd and is designed to chop through leather, wood, and bone with ease.

Scavenged Plate- What he's been able to keep together since the raid, the only pieces of armor left from his original heavy plate being the armor and gauntlet covering his right arm, the pauldron, and the knife headed helmet. All of it in red. The rest is a mess of leather pieces, belts, and chainmail.

Tail Blade- He may not be an assassin, but Skeetch wields the tail blade with enough skill that he'll be able to surprise more than one person with a hidden knife.

Sneaky- Rakeesh are a naturally sneaky people and Skeetch is no exception, without his armor on Skeetch may be able to pass for a competent sneak thief and has a great head for ambushes.

Background:
Skeetch's life was uneventful and regimented. Wake up, train, patrol, and sometimes take out a troublesome beastie that crawled out from the darkness. It wasn't until an expedition towards the lands further north did his life get thrown for a loop.

Name: Varn

Gender: Male

Class: Crossbow Ranger

Race: Human

Description: Varn is the best description of a human in the world he lives in. A few scars from military service, dark, short hair and not too tall or short. He is plain-faced and plain-skinned, having come from a territory inhabited by forests, rich rivers and greedy rulers.

Why you're adventuring with the party: Fortune other than continuing fighting wars. He has little left back home except his loving parents, who insist on running an agricultural business.

Notable skills or equipment: A crossbow marks the booming revolution of faster, cheaper fighting in the lands back home; firm wood starting to wear from use. His protection, aside from humour, is a chestplate and mail elsewhere.

Background: Varn was cattle ever since he was born, that much was known. His village, Hillmouth, farmed and birthed fighters. His parents were also the wealthiest below the lord of the region, not that they were any noble, they just knew food was the most valuable commodity to troops and travellers.

Varn himself learnt a few extra things from this life, mostly from his family attempting to bestow their salesman wisdom onto him. The constant variation of people also taught him how common the average person was, even the wealthy, and what the average desire was.

Of course, a lot of his curiosity waned to familiarity. What was once wonder and learning became labour that got in the way of village life, socialising and impressing the girls. It turned out village life was just as routine, socialising was either very pointless or risky, and girls were just as strong as some of the boys.

Once old enough, Varn was given the choice by his parents to fully leave for a wartime life (volunteering to a standing army was permitted if the fighter paid for their own equipment) or wait until the king called a compulsory army, staying in the village.

The boy took the chance instantly, heading to the capital once outfitted to join under the highest banner.

Three years passed in this hard life until the next war. Varn discovered the reality of being a servant to leaders made cold by their own harsh treatments, never passing a word of mercy when the call for blood was mentioned. He hardly gained insight, he lacked the intelligence to do so, but he certainly had a change of face.

After a large battle allowing the king to usurp an old title and new lands, Varn saw little meaning in his life once again. Every grey sky or dark night he drank under became the same meeting of men who would inevitably march to death.

He considered staying, for different reasons, but convinced himself to break away from his life and desert for his own income, though he made little planning and ended up staying at the nearest tavern after the long walk to nowhere.