IAmAugustReign

Shadows of the Forgotten Realm

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

Shadows of the Forgotten Realm

@TaintedMushroom I was thinking of going a (fairly) safer route with a Fighter/Valkyrie type based off an old Skyrim character I made. Gung-ho, noble, doesn't shy from battle, supportive of teammates, all that jazz. Haven't made up a sheet yet since I'm waiting on GM confirmation.

If another wants that type of role, I do enjoy me some stealth/brutal characters too. Fight dirty, hit 'em where it hurts, use the environment, no mercy. I could prolly adjust another character I already have for use in this rp too.

Shadows of the Forgotten Realm

I seem to keep coming back to this for some reason... It'd be my first small group on this site, so if you've got a spot available and are willing to have a newbie with Group RP, consider me a willing sacrifice - I mean, interested party!

AR's Universal Check - General Ideas, Plots, and Dream Worlds (18+)

Added a dream and slightly edited the main post.

Draw near to your destruction [IAmAugustReigns/Oathmaker]

If you wish to swap scenes from tavern and start off on their journey that's totally cool with me

Draw near to your destruction [IAmAugustReigns/Oathmaker]

She could understand that. Working with others that share similar goals was typically the most efficient way to achieve them, if one didn't try and tear the others apart near the end for greater glory. Trinkets and magical items from the mind-flayers could be useful, if not foreign and collectible. Would probably fetch some pretty coin if sold to the right buyer too... but there was the real reason - protection, self preservation, throwing someone else to the masses so his pretty pretty robes wouldn't get splashes of blood or gore staining them. Just like the Thayan.

Her drilling stare softened, morphing into more of a hungry intrigue. Dark forces like those religious zealots or defilers of the dead weren't so much of a concern for her, but that taste of knowledge, of secrets left behind by the tentacle heads or others, drenched in the warm liquid which gave them life - That was what enticed her. If she learned anything from her emergence, it was that this world held many secrets, and no amount of bodies would stand in her way to acquire them. Having a useful tool like this one would be worth the trouble of his predicted complaints, no?

The drow turned, scraping some fingers along the table surface as she returned to that opposite side, back to that bottle left there. She paused, as if thinking, then deliberately took the bottle at the base into her hand, turning halfway to regard Cailyn over her shoulder.

"You've a deal, wizard." She officially accepted his offering, putting bottle to lip, and taking a long swig. "However," She continued, placing that container down and turning further, a 3/4ths facing towards him now. "If for an instant I am unamused, you're on your own. I will leave you to the dark, to the slime, and to the so called mercy of the denizens below." That dreaming smirk confirmed her fantasies, hinting at the images flashing in her mind about his numerous possible demises. With that look, it was obvious she may even stay to watch the spectacle before going about her own way.

"When to leave?"

Draw near to your destruction [IAmAugustReigns/Oathmaker]

Those red eyes traced the motion of his hand, but she didn't move to sit as he had indicated. She'd be patient for now, but if he babbled on about nonsense, she'd need a quick way to walk, especially with his aura of magic floating about his person. She didn't have access to magic herself, at least not like he seemed to have, but she could feel that ability from here. If she rejected him and he sought her out, it'd be an interesting showdown, of which she expected to win with the right preparation.

"...A fair exchange," He was saying, diving into an introduction. Ugh, boring. She had to fight the urge to roll her eyes at his sappy story, though the shift in the air at his finger caught her eye for a moment. Which type of magic did this one specialize in? She forgot the names of the schools, but could remember back to her travels in this region before, and a flash of a memory came to her: The waving arms in the air, the words of power chanting freely, and then a tear in the fabric of reality, claws pushing their way through into their plane of existence. Was this wizard also a conjurer?

A slight sneer curled at her lip. Mind-flayers. She remembered the stories when she was but a child, a dangerous race to deal with but also a useful one if one was clever enough. All she had seen was a squishy and bulbous head, those tentacle appendages that reached for one's face with voracious hunger, and magic beyond most people's understanding. The drow had faced few Illithid during her time, but those she did encounter were not of a fond memory. These cultists that dared worship them were in over their heads; The octopus heads deserved to perish, not have their egos stroked further.

Cailyn summoned from his pack a message, an offering to show her what he spoke generally of. Five thousand for a cult removal? It wasn't bad, though she didn't really need that amount. Gold was always useful though, so she wouldn't say no to something that paid well. With the focus of Illithid lackeys, there was that higher potential for magical treasure or artifacts, which was also a fair bargaining chip for the woman. That sneer disappeared by then, and that precarious grip on the bottle lip loosened. The drow let go of that bottle, stepping up and around the table a little closer towards Cailyn. When she was able, she snatched up the missive, quick like, and scanned it over as he did her.

Indeed, the Duke called for adventurers and others to help reclaim the city from these cultists, and stated that reward of five thousand clearly. She swapped her gaze from the parchment to Cailyn once again though, the wizard finalizing his offer with his own personal goal. A magical trinket did sound entertaining, and with the danger presumed surrounding it, the woman was quite intrigued.

Yet...

Those bloody orbs narrowed at the mention of the word 'friend', but she didn't make a move towards him this time. It'd be a shame to be kicked out of the tavern after arriving so recently, and she doubted they'd enjoy the new bloodstains on the floor. Instead, she flung the memo into the air, a toss back to him and the table on her right side, as if it were merely an unwanted drawing from a child.

"And how many other 'friends' have you recruited for this errand?" Her eyes were piercing, boring holes if they could into Cailyn's own. It wasn't that she was against working with others, but being strung along by someone else's incompetence or hurried away from the potential hidden loot was something that irked her heavily. Besides, more people meant less share of the rewards. Why should she risk herself for a lesser amount of gold if there were more people? She could just go and do it herself at that point, even take the trinket he sought for her own. She had the skills to hide herself, she had the poisonous blades, healing items, and if things got too heavy, the concealment grenades and natural ability to summon darkness would help as well.

Draw near to your destruction [IAmAugustReigns/Oathmaker]

The shuffling of feet came to her, and a bar wench shimmied up as close as she dared to the hooded drow. "From a patron," She informed, gesturing off to a corner where a man waggled his hand their direction. Red irises glanced the wench's way, but she was already scurrying off to the next customer. They then eyed the man, just within the borders of her direct eyesight, and then the offering. She felt like rolling her eyes, disregarding the suitor and retiring to a room then and there, but a second glance at him gave her pause.

She hadn't hidden her entry into the tavern, nor into the great city, yet she still kept her hood over her multi-layered hair, that point always visible hovering at her forehead. Unless someone was directly interacting with her from the front, it'd be more difficult to determine her skin or see that flash of red. What was it that tipped this man off about her, that brought his attention focused on her? It was probably just as simple as a feminine form and allure, but that expression he showed, the way he waved, it wasn't some fantasy that drove him. It was... something else.

He was testing her.

Probes for information were no stranger to the woman, and neither was courtship or romance. They each had their own ticks, their own universal giveaways. She didn't sense any of the lustful ones off the man, at least, nothing that was blatantly the reason for his watchful eye over her. So this was instead a test of purpose, a call to why she in particular was here, and she doubted he'd accept something as simple as her actual reason for being here. It was pretty mundane after all, even to her own standards. There was something else about him though, something that felt familiar. Perhaps it'd become apparent if she took this offering and got a little closer.

What did she have to lose?

With a slight sideways tip of her head giving her a better angle from under her hood, she sized up the man afar a moment longer. He wore no heavy plate or armor that indicated strength as his main asset, which led her to believe he was either a sly rogue or a mage. Both could be dangerous, but then again, so was she. The corner of her lip turned upwards as she recalled her last proposition from a lone and unaffiliated patron. Perhaps this was exactly what she needed during her break away from the constant political warfare and monster attacks up north. Besides, if he decided to try to get under her skin, she'd just live up to her title once again.

The drow pulled away from the bar and swiped the offering with delicate fingers clawing its lip. Those long blades at her hips barely shifted as she came to his table, that skirt of hers in sync with each step she took. Her approach gave pause to another customer of the tavern, forcing him to almost stand at attention as she crossed his intended path. She could feel his tipsy stare as she finally broke her summoner's perimeter and set down that offered drink at the table's edge.

She could feel an aura of power off this one, leading her to believe he was more magical than sneak. It reminded her of an old party member, back long ago, with a penchant for the ladies and power in the magical arts. He was fun, and if this new mage was anything like the old red wizard, she'd certainly find her time spent with him worthwhile. Closer now, she still eyed him, with that long, salt and peppered dark hair and experienced eyes. That scar already told a story that happened long ago, and the slightest of wrinkles under his eyes told his general age. Another human mage, summoning her for some purpose yet revealed. It all felt too familiar.

The woman kept her fingers on the neck of her bottle, hovering at the table's edge opposite of the man. There were plenty of empty chairs nearby she could have sat in, but she chose to stand instead, giving her the appearance of being intrigued, but not bought just yet. She finally spoke, after eyeing the man for several moments, a voice quiet, sultry, teasing, and somehow airy like a snake's hiss. It fit with her overall dark appearance and aura of danger, like a whisper to bed that would instead lead to one's death. "You called?" She asked, speaking in that Common tongue so many here communicated in.

Your first memorable original character?

I've still got mine around, but she's changed so much since the original days.

My first charrie I remember well was a Bleach arrancar (if I remember the term correctly) who was an underling of Szyal Apporo (sp? The pink haired crazy scientist dude) who broke away and freed herself from his service and wandered the wastelands of Hueco Mundo as both her humanoid form and as a velociraptor. I used to bring her around in the old forum chatboxes and because I was young and silly then, she'd magically have a chainsaw and chase other characters around whenever I'd feel hyper.

I'm still young and silly, just not in that way anymore.

She evolved over the years into something different - the second twin spawned from an angel/demon pairing, a scientist and strategist that tries to keep her twin out of trouble or clean up the messes. She's married to a special forces detective and part of a division that hunts down mutants. She has her own ability of seeing the memories tied with objects, and uses it to see through the eyes of criminals and to help predict their next move.

I use the twins as characters in Dragons Dogma. Oddly, they fit really well. The Arisen going off and getting into stupid situations and has to be saved by their Pawn is basically the same relationship the ladies have anyway.

Draw near to your destruction [IAmAugustReigns/Oathmaker]

The afternoon sun hung high in the sky, beating down heat to the great walled city of Baldur's Gate. While citizens and enforcers doted about their daily tasks, both the mundane and recovery from the attacks of the most recent assailants, a new figure entered the gates and started to wander. It was a fairly tall creature, a little over average height, lithe and strong, and it carried a traveling backpack with camping supplies strapped to it. It was armored lightly, though colored as if it came from the shadows themselves, a black hue that hurt to look at with accents of violet and sanguine. Those openly saddled blades at the form's hips swayed as it walked, catching the sun with their similarly dark metal. There was an aura about this one, one that did not cause fear, but did warn of danger if crossed the wrong way. That hood was pulled down low to help hide the being's face, but even with that protection, that dark skin peeked out from underneath. Not that Baldur's Gate was unaccustomed to this one's suspected race by now, but ingrained prejudices and fear could easily turn a simple traveller into the focus of a massacre. Not that this one would mind. It'd make her life easier to not have as many annoyances to deal with.

The woman traipsed through the streets, not at all bothered by the winding roads and sprawl of the buildings. She had been here long ago after all, working as a mercenary for the Flaming Fists. Her road had taken her up north though, towards Neverwinter, where she had found plenty of more interesting work, including fighting against the demons of Avernus that so recently occurred. Up there though, she worked for a stronghold and family name, oblivious to the other events happening in other areas of Faerún. How far she had come since emerging from the dark hold of her birthplace! There was much to explore up here, wealth to be gained, power to obtain, and skills to perfect. After dealing with the fires of Avernus, she found her eyes had stung less in the typical daytime glare, so she didn't stumble on her way to one of the old taverns she had visited: The Blushing Mermaid.

Looking at the building now, the woman furrowed her brow slightly at the expansion. A lot had changed since she had last been here. She'd have to do more than just ask for rumors with a drinking mug now. With a huff of a nasal sigh, she entered the renovated tavern, and took in her surroundings.

She entered into a large room, a dividing wall ahead of her with a fireplace embedded in the center. To her left, on the opposite side of that wall, was the bar itself, though it appeared the tavern continued on behind it beyond another dividing wall. Large tables occupied the space ahead in this room, sitting six or more depending on how many seats were brought to bear, several already taken by some groups. Some adventuring types it seemed to her, but they were of no interest beyond that. The cowled drow moved towards the bar, her long, loincloth-like skirt swishing with each step. She passed a round table on her way, and spied another at the far end with what looked like another exit door, though clearly not as grand as the main door she just entered. She marked those spots mentally, just in case.

The woman leaned onto the bar at an open space, taking out a few gold for a drink as a start. She had plenty of money, though only carried a small pinch of it openly. It was incredibly rare for someone to be able to steal from her, but letting down one's guard was a stupid move. If, and that was a big if, someone were able to pilfer her gold pouch away, they'd barely touch her real vault. The woman placed the gold on the counter and pushed it in front of her, offering it for whatever she could get with that amount. A silent exchange, and one the bartender caught onto quickly after greeting the new woman and hearing no reply. Only those red eyes stared back at him, a friendly and inviting gaze with some dark fires behind them. These eyes have experience, and a certain kind of hunger, of lust, but not for paltry pleasures of the flesh. It was something more... threatening, a promise made under the guise of pleasantries. The bartender moved, offering a simple bottle of ale in exchange for her coins. She gave the bartender a nod, and unhooked her face mask from inside her hood, revealing that full face of one of the many accomplished adventurers of Neverwinter.

She was pretty, but not beautiful, with a rounded nose tip, chin, and narrow jaw. Her skin was light, even for a drow, but still obvious enough to claim her race as such. She had somewhat heavy eye makeup, black eyeliner and eyeshadow, only heightened by the tattoos sweeping across her high cheekbones under and to the sides of her eyes. There was also a scar across her nose bridge trailing towards and across her left cheek like a glancing blow from a jagged blade or claw. A little tuft of silvery hair had been loosed by her mask removal, curling around her neck like it was nabbed by her glove. The woman took a swig of her ale, playing the part of a traveling adventurer seeking a small amount of respite, but she was more focused on listening to other patrons and getting a feel for the status of the city. They went through a significant struggle, but those details were unknown to her still.