MrSkimobile

Rerun: Blackguards!

@Red Wizard That 'Thanks' was sarcastic btw :'/

Rerun: Blackguards!

Brorin Foul

Few had offered their names. Viktor. Ricon. Then silence. It was clear the others' trust would be more hard earned, and that was of the utmost importance. Few were known to trek with giants and live to tell the tale in one piece. And the living shadow surely was Devilry - would have to stay away from that one. But it was a start. Each introduction Brorin answered simply with the slightest bow and "A pleasure."

As they moved on, Brorin listened to the others debating about how to continue. He would rather not get caught-up with these reavers before having had a chance to stock up. As Brorin followed on he started lagging behind them, and not just because of his condition. He gathered his mutagenic reagents as inconspicuously as he could, stuffing them in his satchel as he went. Small insects, saplings, even a rat once. Come nightfall he would grind them, extract their essences. All had their uses, all had their purpose. Claws and armor from the beetles. Regenerating juices from the saplings. The rat, nutrition. Then, finally, he would be... better.

When the conversation shifted to the entry into Sulfrey, Brorin staggered forward once more. "There are ways into cities other than the front gate, friends." He looked at the garish nature of their compatriots. "I have seen many a travelling freak shows, we might not look too out of place if we play the part." He chuckled a soft saw-like laugh, and quickly followed up with "I also... happen to know the workings of sewers well. Could be another way in... and could aid us to not be noticed once inside."

[@all] @Red Wizard

Interest Check for Westerland Tales!

Quick first draft.

Kaliya - The Amnesiac Silver Elf

Kaliya

---

^{(Image source: Leave With Your Head, by Art-Zealot on Deviantart)}

---

Name

Kaliya

Race

Silver Elf

Gender

Female

Age

199

Appearance

Kaliya has the slender frame and long pointed ears common amongst the Silver Elves. Her skin is fair, her eyes the slightest blue, her long hair white, and when the light falls just right, all seem to glitter with flecks of silver like sunshine in the snow. Though she tries to keep a low profile through her simple clothing and hooded cape, her gait and gaze both betray an almost regal grace. On her side she carries an elven scimitar, and around her neck a necklace with something she tries to keep hidden.

Personality

Kaliya is armed not only with spell and sword, but also with a smile that could melt even the most northern-born cold hearts. Her aristocratic upbringing has left her gracious to a fault, but she is still a bit cautious to show her true self. Despite her highborn exterior, she has an air of vulnerability around her, haunted by her forgotten memories, and by being a stranger in this strange land. She sleeps holding her scimitar close, both for protection and comfort, it being one of her only few possessions that still connect her to her people. And although she has almost no knowledge of the customs of the Westerlands save for long-outdated ones or some overly specific ones, she does have a near encyclopedic knowledge about its astrology and history, and she will gladly babble your head off with trivia if you'd let her. Still, she tries keeping a low profile, so it might take a while for her to truly feel comfortable with others.

Background

Kaliya is a Silver Elf, a people so elusive some even deny their existence as mere fairy tales. She hails from a land that lies in the Kingdom's snowy north. Or rather, it sometimes does. The elves' great silverglass cities are said to shimmer into the Boreal Mountains only for a short spell at a time, appearing like a mirage in its thick northern fog, before disappearing again for a few weeks, months, years, even decades. What little trade and contact the Silver Elves choose to have with the Westerlanders during these appearances is cryptic and often kept secret. And none of them in recorded history have stayed longer than strictly necessary before returning home...

So why did Kaliya leave her own kind, and come to the Westerlands on the very eve of her maturity? Well... She herself does not know either. All she knows is that she woke up in a strange land, holding a small, silver-bloodied shard with markings she knows she should know, but doesn't. She knows of her upbringing as an aristocrat, learning skills ranging from writing and chess, to sword- and spellcraft. And she thinks she knew the princess - but what was her name again?

Since she appeared in the Westerlands, Kaliya has tried to keep a low profile as she tries to figure out the mystery of her departure and her disappeared memory. Never staying anywhere long, she travels from town to town, tavern to tavern, working odd jobs from the local notice boards. It's enough to keep her from starving, but nothing like the luxury she enjoyed back home. And every now and again, she encounters the slightest hint as to where to go next...

Talents

• She is a trained spell-sword, adept at dueling with the scimitar in one hand and magic in the other.
• Her spellcasting focuses on shielding, augmenting her movements and attacks, and creating illusions for eluding enemies.
• Has a near-encyclopedic knowledge about astrology and history.

Flaws

• Knows only a few Westerlandic customs accurately.
• Gracious to a fault, but hesitant.
• Often stands out like a sore thumb despite her best efforts to keep a low profile.

Equipment

• An elven scimitar.
• A simple cotton tunic, black leather vest, boots and gloves, and a reddish-brown hooded capelet.
• A mysterious fragment of illegibly inscribed silverglass she wears as a necklace.

Miscellaneous

N/A

Interest Check for Westerland Tales!

Mr. Red Wizard, you spoil us! I'm in! Reserving a spot for a CS, thinking of creating an elven amnesiac wishing to find her missing memories.

Rerun: Blackguards!

@BigPapaBelial

Not so much a joke I'd say, more like carefree and spontaneous. like he literally has firepower enough that he hasn't fallen to manipulativeness or cynicism. So yeah not gonna lie I love the goofy-but-dangerous combo. Nice break from the edgyboys eh ;) #guilty

Rerun: Blackguards!

@BigPapaBelial Oh I didn't have a problem with it at all, I like the early lootboxes ;), I was just wondering how the freedom of the game would work on a logistical level, especially with so many players.

Rerun: Blackguards!

@Red Wizard Yes definitely, thanks!

Rerun: Blackguards!

(posted once more this 'round' just to get the pleasantries out of the way so to say, and to bounce something off to those who haven't posted yet, fwiw)

I'm enjoying this one :).

also @Red Wizard I changed my CS a bit as you said to make the char a bit more dangerous, but tried to make him not too OP. Also, you said in the initial post we have a lot of control over the game. I was wondering to what degree we are in charge of, e.g. timeskips, loot, etc. like in the current situation (Ricon leading us to some caches), as I can imagine keeping everyone on the same 'line' would become a bit more difficult then.

Rerun: Blackguards!

Brorin Foul

"We're actually I'd say maybe 2 days away from Sulfrey if we stick to the Lower Roads and the Forest Paths. I know my way around here if you can trust me."

Trust. The word rung out to Brorin like a church bell. The ember-eyed man liked to blab, that much was clear. Apparently he liked talking almost as much as he liked his arson and lootings, and he liked those a whole lot. Brorin mused they wouldn't even have to go out of their way to find trouble in Sulfrey at this rate. Trouble would find them before long, or find this one at least. A wild man, capable and dangerous, yet strangely childlike. Unfeigned and unsuspecting, he could've been a fellow Brother in another life if he weren't a slave to his burning passions. That would surely become his own undoing... But it could serve them for now... 'Trust'? There's one thing you could be sure of when it came to trust: it gets broken, eventually. Everything nice dies, in the end.

The two largest members of their party had walked after the flaming bandit with little delay. One, because she followed. The other, with purpose. The ghost-girl still seemed skeptical about the whole ordeal, sighing and rolling her eyes. But she was a silent enough counterpart to the loudmouthed and hulking ground-shakers to be almost pleasant. She seemed sad, though. Strange... Sadness wouldn't get you into the Warden's Maw. Nor should it get to you once back outside of it. Brorin tried studying his new companions the way he used to do his priests and choirboys back in his parish. But they were a different breed of people. Or were they...? He decided to break the ice.

"What would you have me call you, friends? Foul's my name, or so they called me at my parish, before I..." He paused. "...came to the Maw. Brorin Foul."

@Drifting Pollen @Chrys @Lurking Shadow @Eviledd1984 @Abstract Proxy @Thunder999999 @BigPapaBelial @Vertigo @Red Wizard

Rerun: Blackguards!

Brorin Foul

Brorin's voice stuck in his throat as the images and words flooded his mind. Sulfrey. Barbarians. The God-King sitting in his dead hall. That knowing smile. Red hair. A scar. Hordes of horned knights pouring over the kingdom. Blood. Then silence.

Then noise. The walls crumbling down. The world slipping away from him. Darkness closing in on him. Heart pounding, eye flitting, but nothing. Nothing but noise! And through the haze... That smile...

"Why do we keep him, father?" - "You will find out in the end, son." Echoes carry far in a church...
"I've got a treat for you, a right Foul task today." Those smiles...
"You still not dead yet?"
"You...? Why...?" Now it was his turn to smile...

Brorin's knees buckled as he fell into... Softness. A wheat field? He felt a cool breeze run through his eye socket. And there were birds! His heart calmed at a steady pace, only to flare up again as he noticed his mask had slipped. With trembling hands, he picked it up and put it back where it belonged, over his fair, unblemished half-face. You could dress up a monster, but why cover up the truth?

Grabbing his cane - his equipment all seemed to be there, alchemy satchel and all - he pushed himself up through what dizziness still lingered. Finally he could get a good look at these "chosen ones". There was a huge, brutish woman, not one to mince words that one, not even with the Warden, what few words she knew. A pale giantess surveying the scene with a stone-cold detachment, or was it dejection? An elf with a high and haughty posture, but hiding something in a sleeve of her dress. A ghostly girl, shy and red-eyed. A man who seemed too pridefully robed to have been a mere criminal, a psychopath, perhaps? A dark beast, its armor bloodied already. A lanky, silver-haired, ember-eyed man. And a halfling hidden in all their shadows. And then there was him... Blackguards, all.

What a joke. What a cruel joke. For a moment Brorin turned away, toying with the idea of leaving them in the dust of this soon-to-be destroyed land. Plagueborn were despised everywhere equally anyway, it wouldn't make much of a difference wherever he went. But he quickly remembered that he will do what She has said. That is all. He snickered, nodded, then he went silent. He truly wasn't getting out of this one, was he? They truly would have to kill a God-King, weren't they? And no one would truly lose a night of sleep for them if they died... would they? He muttered a verse from under his rasping breath. "Even the fools will find out they fit in the end, huh? Damned witch..."

Brorin turned back to the ones nearest to him. "Which way's east, friends?"