[CHAR] Shadows of the Forgotten Realm

[IAmAugustReign]

Verđandi

Character Name: Verđandi

Race: Human

Class: Valkyrie. A title given to those guardsmen who have faced tragedy and death, yet walk to see another day. Fierce in battle but loyal to their comrades, these warriors guide their people to victory or death, both outcomes deserving of honor and pride when fairly fought for. Verđandi adopted the title after a major battle that nearly wiped out her entire home, having feeling she herself had died there and then reborn to enact justice against the darkness. Valkyries prefer close quarters combat but don't shy away from using ranged options when it suits their cause. They were regarded highly, seen as guardians borne from the willow itself, years of memory and training bestowed upon them as a gift in their time of calling.

Age: 40

Gender: Female

Place of Birth: Moonvale, a place long taken by the Darkblight

Moonvale Lore, provided by GM

Nestled in the heart of Eldoria, rested along the banks of the Silvershore River. Its wooden bridges connected cobblestone streets, and the scent of freshly baked bread wafted from cozy bakeries. The Silvershore River was the lifeblood of Moonvale. Barges laden with goods—grain, wool, and handcrafted wares—drifted downstream toward distant markets. The River Guild oversaw trade, negotiating fair prices and settling disputes. Their meetings took place in the guildhall, where the walls echoed with centuries-old agreements.

Moonvale’s origins traced back to a humble trading post. Merchants sought refuge there, drawn by the river’s bounty and the promise of fertile land. The town’s name came from the shimmering silver leaves of the ancient willow tree that stood in the central square.

The ancient willow tree in the square was said to harbor secrets. Its leaves rustled even on windless nights, and its roots delved deep into Eldoria’s history. Elders claimed that touching the willow granted glimpses of forgotten memories. Lovers carved their initials into its bark, believing their bond would endure like the tree itself.

Moonvale thrived on community—a patchwork of farmers, blacksmiths, and storytellers. Their lives intertwined like the willow’s branches. Visitors arrived seeking respite from the world’s chaos. They found solace in Moonvale’s simple rhythms, where the river’s song lulled them to sleep.

Moonvale faced an encroaching menace. The once-vibrant town now grappled with fading hope. The ancient willow tree, its silver leaves once shimmering, stood as a sentinel against the approaching darkness.

Townspeople rallied, their resolve unyielding. Blacksmiths forged blades, and farmers reinforced barricades. Yet, the threat defied comprehension. The Silvershore River, its waters no longer a lifeline, served as a feeble barrier.

Lovers clung to each other, seeking solace beneath the ancient willow’s branches. Their whispered promises echoed through the quiet streets. Moonvale’s fate hung in the balance.

As moonlight waned, the townspeople fought bravely. But the menace consumed all. Homes crumbled, bridges sagged, and the scent of decay replaced that of fresh bread. The last survivors gathered near the ancient willow, its silver leaves now ashen.

And so, Moonvale fell—an echo of its former self. The river’s song faded, replaced by eerie silence. Wind rustled through abandoned streets, carrying tales of courage against an inscrutable adversary.

Appearance: Verđandi is a proud and strong woman, having seen years of travel and battle. Her face holds an aura of experience and faith, her posture one of nobility and pride. Light blue eyes like pure ice judge others they look upon, and long, silver hair like wavy clouds cascade from her head, unless theyre pinned up in a haphazard bun. Various wrinkles mark her face originating from the sun, her age, or the stresses of battle. While mostly serious and typically wearing a neutral frown, there are lingering lines of laughter that have joined her other wrinkles. She's not the strongest person ever, but her muscles are notable and her body fit for her duty. She has wide hips and a pear-like figure, the skirt tails of her armor accentuating that fact. In battle, she prefers a full coverage platemail with blue and brown undercoat, though she foregoes the full helmet. Instead, she dons a headdress, fitting like a tight hood, with various hand-threaded sticks, vines, leaves, feathers, and fur, silver beads of various sizes adorning them like hair. This natural tapestry is a tribute of the sacred tree at her long lost home and of the long scattered critters that inhabited the place. When lounging or working, the woman prefers practical wear: pants to skirts, tunics to corsets, boots to slippers. In what little leisure time she gives herself, she seems a working but homely peasant, used to the rigors of homesteading and an earned life. She prefers to use a sword and shield, though has had some experience in using larger weapons. That signature shield is a classic spade-like shape, though the emblem of a long abandoned town gently marks the metal, a depiction of what could either be seen as a tree with sweeping, drooping branches, or a flow of water, falling from some larger origin. Her blade is simple in design, though similarly holds the naturalistic motif of her headdress and shield with the scabbard.

Images

Basic (Not correct armor)

Bare

[rabidbacon]

Bane Halrond

Character Name:
Bane Halrond

Race:
Half-elf

Class:
Former Guard Captain of a decimated noble house of Eldoria.

Age:
47

Gender:
Male

Place of Birth:
Riffolk

Appearance:
Bane Halrond is, at first glance, a rather imposing man, though after a few moments of words exchanged, he reveals himself to be more tired than gruff. He has seen his masters and his own men fall to the Shadowbane, and to the influence of both greed and magic, and as a result, it has left him with a deep-seated anger towards the former and a wariness towards the latter, as it has upended the security and meaning of his profession. He now ekes out a living as a mercenary for people who require an escort for security purposes, and he spends much of the coin maintaining his weaponry and armor - or what is left of its glory days. What little is left is spent on strong drink, as well as other, warmer comforts that seedy taverns provide.

He is almost always spotted with a hat or helm of some sort, an attempt to avoid being antagonized by most humans. Thankfully his human father granted him height, as well as a laborer's sturdy physique, though the shape of his ears are an unavoidable proof of his mother's blood so he goes to lengths to conceal it.

[TaintedMushroom]

Vale

My Hider

Character Name:
Alvale Varish

Race:
Dark Elf

Class:
A rogue, a scoundrel, a thief, a con-man, a dabbler of the alchemical, and sometimes a holy man while at others a beggar. In practice he was a man of many faces, choosing to don that which were most convenient at the time. When confronted he might declare himself a survivalist, learning that which was necessary to ensure his prolonged existence. In the shadowy depths of the gloom of night he often found himself wearing a mask of desperation. Nothing was beneath him, not even murder, if it kept him alive another day.

Age:
67

Gender:
Male

Place of Birth:
Glorenthil

Appearance:
Vale is short for his race, not short enough to not be elf tall, but short enough to have likely been picked on for it growing up. As fate would have it this actually turned out to benefit him later in life, the extra few inches weren't extraordinary but when attempting to slip into places one shouldn't be every little advantage had it's merit. Typically Vale finds himself in the guise of an aging sick elderly alchemist in order to pass through populated areas whenever necessary. Vale's attempts at deception are not always successful and thus Vale finds himself often having to employ the usage of his crescent shaped daggers to silence those who might see through his guise.

Due to lifestyle choices Vale often finds himself on the road or inhabiting slums or other seedy locations full of misbegottens and other unsavory types who might scorn the law over him and his ilk. Since the beginning of the Shadowbane Vale has found it easier to go unnoticed in areas that might find themselves struggling under the weight of refugees.

[Abstract Proxy]

Cora

Character Name: Cora Bennett

Race: Human

Class: Scholar

Class Description:

A noted scholar, Cora is a purveyor of rare books, and a member in good standing with the Artisans’ Union. Traveling across Eldoria, she offers her wares to discerning customers and her services as a scribe to those in need of quality writing.

Age: 23

Gender: Female

Place of Birth:

Mythralis

Appearance:

A Portrait of a Young Scholar

A scholar wearing the garb of an adventurer, Cora is a young woman shrouded in carefully woven veils of paradox. Her clothes are practical. Thick boots. A knee length wool skirt. A sturdy belt. A comfortable shirt. A protective jacket. And an ample traveling cloak with a hood. However, her bearing is if not regal, decidedly aristocratic. Her voice is softly measured and full of learned words. Her amber eyes shine bright with curiosity, never wavering, no matter the horrors that pass in front of them. There is a hidden strength to Cora that many do not notice. Past fine clothes and manners, she is no stranger to dust and grime, finding herself happiest skulking through the darkness of some dusty library or long lost tomb. Her skin is fair, but touched by the occasional scar, reminders of a life spent far from the safety of the great estates of Mythralis. Her brown hair is long, reaching just past her shoulder blades. Offering a lone concession to her own vanity, Cora keeps her hair pinned into an elaborate knot at the nape of her neck with an ornate set of silver hairpins.