Name: Mercy LaCroix

Race: Aasimar

Age: 26

Appearance: Mercy is an Asimar, with appearance that might belie natural beauty in better circumstance, but is often caked in the dust and grime of the roads traveled. Ivory skin, blonde hair tied back, and with deep blue eyes, the young woman exudes an air of confidence beyond her years.

Often those very same features are concealed beneath the shade of a well-worn 'cowboy' hat and the simple draw of a bandana over her lower face. Perhaps the truest evidence of her femininity is her slim perfectly shaped figure, A toned and flat belly blends into a slim waist and then gives way to the curvy flare of her hips and long, powerful legs. Even so, her form is often hidden beneath the padded duster she wears.

Around her throat rests a cold pendant in the shape of the sun, a symbol of her driving faith. The 'instruments' of that faith are far more striking; a pair of well-maintained revolvers rest in a classic 'gunslinger' belt.

Skills and abilities:
Marksmanship/Gunslinging
Short to medium firefights.
Magic: Smiting shot, 'Lay on hands', can channel some positive energy.
Healing: Mundane wound tending.
Decent musician

Weapons:
Gunslinger revolvers
Pump-Action shotgun
Survival knife
Sun pendant focusing necklace.
Stock-whip

Other Equipment:
Traveling Bag (Rations, Water skin, bedroll and fire-starting equipment.)
Leather Long coat
Weather Poncho
Notebook
The Hat.

Background:
There was a time when the birth of an Aasimar was a good omen and cause for celebration, these days it can be a burden. There was plenty in this world people were willing to blame the gods for, and plenty of people who decided that someone who had the slightest hint of their blood was good enough. Even so, early life was as happy and safe as it could be for a time.

Mercy grew up in a small settlement to parents who ran a small tavern within called 'The Oasis' for its location near a well of fresh and clean water. Serving what drinks they could and patching up travelers, their family enjoyed earning a living and the protection of the settlement. She'd sing in the tavern, learned to stitch wounds with her father and went to bed with a full belly surrounded by warmth.

Monsters come in all shapes and size, but it wasn't mutants or infected that brought the destruction of her home, but men. For as long as there have been people alive, someone has wanted what another has. The men that came to town played the part of travelers, enjoying their stay until late in the night.

Mercy awoke to the sounds of screams, gunfire and death. They'd opened the gates and let the wolves in. The raiders took what they could, burned what they couldn't and the noise drew in the infected. The settlement became a ghost town above her while she hid in the cellar below. It took her days to dig her way out and even then she collapsed amidst the smoldering wreckage certain as her eyes closed that something would come for her life in the night.

But the sun rose again for Mercy LaCroix, as dawn broke her eyes opened and her hands closed upon a new weight resting in her palms. A pair of revolvers, old-fashioned and yet in perfect condition. As she stood with the weapons, there was purpose like never before. Such wickedness would be punished; justice would be delivered for the Oasis.

Three years had passed, hands that had one held their weapons with shaky determination were now firm, eyes wide with fear now carried clarity. Tragedy had brought her path to her, but the wastelands had no shortage of people in need and monsters that needed to be put down.

Other stuff:

Name: Lorn
Race: Tiefling
Age: 23
Appearance:
Skills and abilities:

• Sneaking/Hiding/Moving Silently
• Literate
• Magical Lore
• Magic: will elaborate, probably a focus on elemental magic, with a less experience but an interest in conjuration

Weapons:

• Staff of the Wanderer: an enchanted staff carved out of a strange, grizzled wood that seems as hard and durable as metal
• Dagger

Attire/Armor:

• Well-Worn Leather Boots
• Wool Skirt (Red)
• Sturdy Belt
• Wool Shirt (Red)
• Wool Vest (Black)
• Ample Cloak with a Hood (Black)

Other Equipment:

• The Grimoire of Saint Valus: a unique spell tome, reputed to contain forbidden knowledge regarding the much-feared spell school of conjuration
• Leather Traveling Pack (Backpack): containing a bedroll, a mess kit, a tinderbox, rations for a week, a waterskin, and a length of hempen rope

Background:
Other stuff:

Name: S’Hraa
Race: Serpent Folk (also referred to as Serpent People)


Age: 37

Appearance: S’Hraa stands 6’8” tall and is 11’ head to tail. His scales are a pale green on color with a finlike dorsal appendage consisting of spikes connected with a thin membrane running along most of the back. He wears a small enchanted silver necklace depicting a human-like face and carries several pouches filled with various alchemical ingredients poisons and potions.



He also has an alternate appearance with the aid of his enchanted necklace. With a little bit of focus, he can almost instantaneously take the appearance of (though not the form. He still has the same physical ophidian form but visually appears differently) a 6’4” tall Human with a lean build and pale white skin. This illusion appears like a human in every way except for the eyes, the only thing the necklace does not alter, which still betray its beastly origins. In addition, other clues may betray the illusion such as the footsteps not matching (for a particularly observant individual) or the odd mannerisms of S’Hraa (as sometimes he may forget or be unaware of how a typical human would react to a particular situation such as his preference to consume live prey, though this might be attributed to eccentricity) This is the default appearance S’Hraa takes with those unfamiliar with him and often uses this disguise to blend in unnoticed with society. This Human form often wears a hooded robe concealing most of his features, especially the face.

Skills and abilities:

Alchemical expert. He is fully capable of crafting beneficial potions and crippling poisons.

Stealth.

Due to a slow metabolism, he eats much less often compared to others. Fully fed (with large enough prey like the occasional bandit), he can be sustained for weeks at a time.

His potent venom can incapacitate a fully grown human in minutes, and often death in about an hour provided no treatment is given.

Adept at illusion spells.

His scales provide some resistance to weapons like sword or daggers and small arms outside of close range.

S’Hraa is surprisingly agile for his size. While by no means untouchable he does a good job of slithering out of the way of some attacks and hazards.

Weapons:

An ornate dagger with grooves for storing and injecting poison in any wounds inflicted.

A drilling with side by side shotgun barrels over a rifle barrel.

A pair of Fangs that can inject venom from his glands.

Other Equipment:

A wooden staff with a pair of snakes intertwining near the top which is used as a magical focus.

Various ingredients and containers of potions and poisons. Some empty, some filled and all contained within three pouches S’Hraa carries with him.

A metal tool resembling a fang meant to inject potions/poisons while minimizing tissue damage (like a syringe). Primarily used for medicinal purposes like injecting a healing potion directly into the blood stream rather than having to wait for it to normally be absorbed through ingestion for example.

Enchanted necklace that disguises S’Hraa as a Human (The disguise is ‘bound’ to S’Hraa and will not work with any other wearer unless they have the know-how to enchant it to them specifiacally).

Background:

S’Hraa was a little different than the rest of his kin. While most were content to live away from the other races, S’Hraa had a curious nature and sought to learn a little about these other beings he shares the world with. The only problem being he resembles a very large snake. Something often tied together with venom and a quick grave. Not ever hearing of Serpent Folk before, most people reacted negatively at a snake the size of a man.

S'Hraa quickly realized the solution and enchanted a necklace to cast a spell he would use often. With the convenience of appearing as a Human at a moment’s notice he began to mingle with society. After a few awkward encounters (Learning a language is tricky, learning the slang is trickier) he quickly acclimated and only occasionally slips up.

Of course, with the whole battle for survival thing going on now most anything resembling society would tell strangers to get lost unless they were trading or were adept at something, which fortunately for S’Hraa was alchemy. With the usual potion to cure a sickness, heal some dismembered fingers, and the occasional poison, S’Hraa became a highly regarded figure. Or, at least the Human form did. With the occasional bandit corpse (following a raid) going missing, like anyone cared, S’Hraa was content for the time being.

Eventually S’Hraa had an urge to move on. Satisfied with the stories he gained from socializing he decided to look for a new group with new stories. He never did feel close with any of them, feeling trapped in a form unlike his own, having to monitor his words and actions. Perhaps with others he might reveal a little about himself, might act like himself, or perhaps it will be more of the same. Regardless he decided to leave, to see where the road leads him to next.


Other stuff:

As one might expect, S’Hraa has a fondness of snakes and takes great care to not harm one. He thinks less of those who harm snakes intentionally or not and may even outright attack anyone who does so.