Spider Pickle
Alright, here's my character so far! The part of her history where she meets the guard is intentionally vague, so you guys can weave your characters into it more smoothly. If I need to change anything, let me know!
Race: Ysriel was raised by nymphs, an ethereal, all-female race that thrives wherever there is untamed wilderness. She is a half-breed, one of many borne of the nymphs’ common affection for humans, though she is the only half-breed in her flock to stay with her mother after being born. Nymphs are a very social race, and congregate in marshes, rivers, springs, and wherever else water and forest collide. They have no strict hierarchy, though will defer to the eldest nymph for guidance. Infants and nymphs rarely mix; their pregnancies last only a few months, and as soon as the child is born, they pass it along to the father, to be raised among his people. Nymphs are generally peaceful, and will only attack to defend themselves; though woe be to whoever drove them to violence.
Appearance: Something about Ysriel is naturally immaculate; she bleeds, sweats and gets filthy just like any inhabitant of King’s Knell, but all it takes is a dip in any kind of water and her skin is back to being supple and unblemished, her hair untangled and silky. The only sign of her line of work can be found in the rough callus on her hands. She carries herself confidently, and is always ready to offer a warm smile. Not much distinguishes her from a full-blooded human at first glance, and walks with easy grace, though is terrible at navigating cramped streets without bumping into people and things. Her clothing seems to be skillfully woven from vegetation, her only armor is a pair of cheap boots, an old helm, a pocked leather breastplate, and bracers, and she keeps a simple sword at her belt.
Age: 21
Former Profession: Stargazer, animal sweet-talker, flower kisser (self-trained), explorer.
Skills:
Personality: Ysriel is, above all else, curious. The other nymphs cared little for the world beyond their domain, but Ysriel often left the water to wander the forest and cliffs. She adores animals of all kinds, and seems unembarrassed when she fawns over them loudly in public. She is kind to a fault, naive when it comes to the many liars and manipulators of the city, and sees her work as the path on the way to a grand, heroic destiny. She is afraid and distrustful of the undead and demons, and avoids them when she can. When she is with friends, she can be a sharp trickster, dancing away from the ire of the tricked, laughing all the while. She has a natural cleverness, though nothing to yet apply it to.
History: The Starkeeper flock has always kept to the steep cliffs and hidden springs of the Twinkling Mountains, maintaining many of the springs that coalesce into the River Knell. They go ignored by the dwarves, whose lumber and mining operations are easier done further down the mountain, though many an adventurer has braved the snow-dusted peaks to serenade them.
One such adventurer, an older man named Claudius Lysander, set out along the River Knell in search of peace. He’d been a faithful guard of King’s Knell, back when the guard was more respected, but retired in grief after his wife was murdered by a criminal he’d arrested years before. He had no family, nor any children, and opted to leave the city before he became just another lonely, mad peasant.
He sequestered himself in the woods, chopping down only the trees he needed to make a small shed to sleep in. He drank from a spring nearby, gathered herbs and berries, and admired the quiet of his surroundings. Having lived and fought in the city all his life, he hunted rarely, and always used the most of the animal. The Starkeepers watched him as he gathered water from their spring, and a few admired his gentleness and respect for their land and its creatures. Ysrala, the eldest of the flock, watched and admired him the most, and eventually revealed herself to him.
Claudius became quickly enamored with the beautiful nymph. Every day, he sat at the edge of the spring and told stories about King’s Knell; its people, its appearance, and--to Ysrala’s morbid delight--its crime. She seemed to think of him as a kind of legendary hero for hunting down so many evil people, and he saw no harm in failing to correct her. The other nymphs always hid themselves, though listened to his stories with varying degrees of amazement and distaste.
In only two months, Ysrala was pregnant. Claudius was overjoyed, if a little concerned about raising a child on the peak of a mountain. But he dreamt of the perfect family: Ysrala, cradling his child in her arms, smiling at him like rays of the sun.
Then the hobgoblins came.
A violent offshoot tribe that had migrated from the Highlands, the hobgoblins rushed in and set camp like a furry avalanche. It wasn’t long until they found Claudius’ cabin. Ysrala watched, hidden in the trees, as her lover was dragged from his cabin and killed. While the hobgoblins would be driven away by the dwarves eventually, Claudius' death was the harsh result of their visit.
Months later, the nymphs were left with a baby. Some suggested giving it to the dwarves, but Ysrala, spurred on by Claudius’ excitement, decided to keep it. She weaved a floating basket out of cattails and hyacinth, serving as the baby’s crib. Ysrala knew the perfect name then: Ysriel, or “drifting flower” in the old fae tongue.
Little Ysriel spent the first few years of her life swimming. Her first steps beyond the spring were wobbly, but it wasn’t long until she was running out of the spring, running through the forest, clambering over rocks with more energy than the other nymphs could imagine. By the time she was a teenager, she could sprint to the edge of the forest and back without stopping, and explored the Starkeeper domain with fervent wonder.
When she’d mapped every inch of their moon pools, riverbeds and springs, and when the animals of the forest had grown wise to her pranks, she became restless. She was a young woman now, bustling with human wanderlust. She was loyal to the Starkeepers and didn’t dare ask to leave, but in secret, she’d sit by the road up the mountain, watching the occasional caravan pass with longing eyes.
Ysrala saw the change in her daughter easily. She’d told Ysriel all about her late father, including the stories he’d told Ysrala. It was no wonder the girl envied her father’s no-doubt incredible adventures. She would hate to see her go, but she couldn’t hurt her child and force her to stay. Perhaps, Ysrala thought, Ysriel would return someday with stories of her own.
Nearly every nymph had grown to love Ysriel, and offered her gifts for her journey. Pack laden with them, Ysriel waved the Starkeepers goodbye, and set off down the road. She looked out-of-place on the dusty road, drawing stares from other travelers, but miraculously, no one bothered her. She managed to hitch a ride on a kindly trader’s cart the second day, and she regaled him with fae songs and riddles to shorten the long journey to King’s Knell.
Past the gates, she bid farewell to the trader, and blindly set off in search of the nearest guard station. It was getting darker and lonelier the longer she searched, until she left the lower end of King’s Hill, wandered lower and lower into the city, and found herself flanked by two men. She was effortlessly thrown to the ground, her pack ripped away and searched at swordpoint. The men seemed disappointed at their catch: a bundle of flowers, little wood carvings, and other bits of garbage that wouldn’t fetch a pittance. Ysriel, however, seemed like a fine enough catch on her own, and just before they descended upon her, a guard appeared, just like the hero she’d always dreamed about.
The guard fought the two men well enough that they abandoned the pack and ran off. Ysriel, seemingly unfazed by the near-trauma, gathered her things and gushed to the guard all the way to the guard house on 22d Cleaver Street. She insisted that she wished to join the guard, and upon dropping Cladius Lysander’s name, seemed to catch the attention of at least a few guards. In a week’s time, somehow, she carried the proud title of recruit--”fresh meat”, as some guards called it. She trained harder than many of the recruits, who came to the guard either out of desperation or debt. Even so, she was a flimsy fighter, entirely unaccustomed to even holding a weapon.
Ysriel has been in the guard for a few months now, and while she can’t hope to win a fight against a trained criminal, she can fend them off long enough for other guards to come help. Slowly but surely, she is being taught to read and write, and serves as a bright, if still burgeoning, part of the Cleaver Street guard house.
Ysriel Starkeeper
Race: Ysriel was raised by nymphs, an ethereal, all-female race that thrives wherever there is untamed wilderness. She is a half-breed, one of many borne of the nymphs’ common affection for humans, though she is the only half-breed in her flock to stay with her mother after being born. Nymphs are a very social race, and congregate in marshes, rivers, springs, and wherever else water and forest collide. They have no strict hierarchy, though will defer to the eldest nymph for guidance. Infants and nymphs rarely mix; their pregnancies last only a few months, and as soon as the child is born, they pass it along to the father, to be raised among his people. Nymphs are generally peaceful, and will only attack to defend themselves; though woe be to whoever drove them to violence.
Appearance: Something about Ysriel is naturally immaculate; she bleeds, sweats and gets filthy just like any inhabitant of King’s Knell, but all it takes is a dip in any kind of water and her skin is back to being supple and unblemished, her hair untangled and silky. The only sign of her line of work can be found in the rough callus on her hands. She carries herself confidently, and is always ready to offer a warm smile. Not much distinguishes her from a full-blooded human at first glance, and walks with easy grace, though is terrible at navigating cramped streets without bumping into people and things. Her clothing seems to be skillfully woven from vegetation, her only armor is a pair of cheap boots, an old helm, a pocked leather breastplate, and bracers, and she keeps a simple sword at her belt.
Age: 21
Former Profession: Stargazer, animal sweet-talker, flower kisser (self-trained), explorer.
Skills:
Water Affinity: Ysriel can breathe underwater, and swims much faster than any human should, as if the water itself wills her forward. Falling into water, even from great heights, will not harm her, and any water she touches becomes as clear and clean as the mountain water she comes from, up to a few feet from her body. Minor cuts and scrapes are healed when she submerges herself, while severe wounds stop bleeding, but are not healed.
Friend of the Wild: Animals naturally calm near her, though will not follow her commands unless they have been trained as such.
Fleet Feet: While Ysriel is a weak fighter, she is very athletic, possessing great stamina and speed when running and swimming.
Friend of the Wild: Animals naturally calm near her, though will not follow her commands unless they have been trained as such.
Fleet Feet: While Ysriel is a weak fighter, she is very athletic, possessing great stamina and speed when running and swimming.
Personality: Ysriel is, above all else, curious. The other nymphs cared little for the world beyond their domain, but Ysriel often left the water to wander the forest and cliffs. She adores animals of all kinds, and seems unembarrassed when she fawns over them loudly in public. She is kind to a fault, naive when it comes to the many liars and manipulators of the city, and sees her work as the path on the way to a grand, heroic destiny. She is afraid and distrustful of the undead and demons, and avoids them when she can. When she is with friends, she can be a sharp trickster, dancing away from the ire of the tricked, laughing all the while. She has a natural cleverness, though nothing to yet apply it to.
History: The Starkeeper flock has always kept to the steep cliffs and hidden springs of the Twinkling Mountains, maintaining many of the springs that coalesce into the River Knell. They go ignored by the dwarves, whose lumber and mining operations are easier done further down the mountain, though many an adventurer has braved the snow-dusted peaks to serenade them.
One such adventurer, an older man named Claudius Lysander, set out along the River Knell in search of peace. He’d been a faithful guard of King’s Knell, back when the guard was more respected, but retired in grief after his wife was murdered by a criminal he’d arrested years before. He had no family, nor any children, and opted to leave the city before he became just another lonely, mad peasant.
He sequestered himself in the woods, chopping down only the trees he needed to make a small shed to sleep in. He drank from a spring nearby, gathered herbs and berries, and admired the quiet of his surroundings. Having lived and fought in the city all his life, he hunted rarely, and always used the most of the animal. The Starkeepers watched him as he gathered water from their spring, and a few admired his gentleness and respect for their land and its creatures. Ysrala, the eldest of the flock, watched and admired him the most, and eventually revealed herself to him.
Claudius became quickly enamored with the beautiful nymph. Every day, he sat at the edge of the spring and told stories about King’s Knell; its people, its appearance, and--to Ysrala’s morbid delight--its crime. She seemed to think of him as a kind of legendary hero for hunting down so many evil people, and he saw no harm in failing to correct her. The other nymphs always hid themselves, though listened to his stories with varying degrees of amazement and distaste.
In only two months, Ysrala was pregnant. Claudius was overjoyed, if a little concerned about raising a child on the peak of a mountain. But he dreamt of the perfect family: Ysrala, cradling his child in her arms, smiling at him like rays of the sun.
Then the hobgoblins came.
A violent offshoot tribe that had migrated from the Highlands, the hobgoblins rushed in and set camp like a furry avalanche. It wasn’t long until they found Claudius’ cabin. Ysrala watched, hidden in the trees, as her lover was dragged from his cabin and killed. While the hobgoblins would be driven away by the dwarves eventually, Claudius' death was the harsh result of their visit.
Months later, the nymphs were left with a baby. Some suggested giving it to the dwarves, but Ysrala, spurred on by Claudius’ excitement, decided to keep it. She weaved a floating basket out of cattails and hyacinth, serving as the baby’s crib. Ysrala knew the perfect name then: Ysriel, or “drifting flower” in the old fae tongue.
Little Ysriel spent the first few years of her life swimming. Her first steps beyond the spring were wobbly, but it wasn’t long until she was running out of the spring, running through the forest, clambering over rocks with more energy than the other nymphs could imagine. By the time she was a teenager, she could sprint to the edge of the forest and back without stopping, and explored the Starkeeper domain with fervent wonder.
When she’d mapped every inch of their moon pools, riverbeds and springs, and when the animals of the forest had grown wise to her pranks, she became restless. She was a young woman now, bustling with human wanderlust. She was loyal to the Starkeepers and didn’t dare ask to leave, but in secret, she’d sit by the road up the mountain, watching the occasional caravan pass with longing eyes.
Ysrala saw the change in her daughter easily. She’d told Ysriel all about her late father, including the stories he’d told Ysrala. It was no wonder the girl envied her father’s no-doubt incredible adventures. She would hate to see her go, but she couldn’t hurt her child and force her to stay. Perhaps, Ysrala thought, Ysriel would return someday with stories of her own.
Nearly every nymph had grown to love Ysriel, and offered her gifts for her journey. Pack laden with them, Ysriel waved the Starkeepers goodbye, and set off down the road. She looked out-of-place on the dusty road, drawing stares from other travelers, but miraculously, no one bothered her. She managed to hitch a ride on a kindly trader’s cart the second day, and she regaled him with fae songs and riddles to shorten the long journey to King’s Knell.
Past the gates, she bid farewell to the trader, and blindly set off in search of the nearest guard station. It was getting darker and lonelier the longer she searched, until she left the lower end of King’s Hill, wandered lower and lower into the city, and found herself flanked by two men. She was effortlessly thrown to the ground, her pack ripped away and searched at swordpoint. The men seemed disappointed at their catch: a bundle of flowers, little wood carvings, and other bits of garbage that wouldn’t fetch a pittance. Ysriel, however, seemed like a fine enough catch on her own, and just before they descended upon her, a guard appeared, just like the hero she’d always dreamed about.
The guard fought the two men well enough that they abandoned the pack and ran off. Ysriel, seemingly unfazed by the near-trauma, gathered her things and gushed to the guard all the way to the guard house on 22d Cleaver Street. She insisted that she wished to join the guard, and upon dropping Cladius Lysander’s name, seemed to catch the attention of at least a few guards. In a week’s time, somehow, she carried the proud title of recruit--”fresh meat”, as some guards called it. She trained harder than many of the recruits, who came to the guard either out of desperation or debt. Even so, she was a flimsy fighter, entirely unaccustomed to even holding a weapon.
Ysriel has been in the guard for a few months now, and while she can’t hope to win a fight against a trained criminal, she can fend them off long enough for other guards to come help. Slowly but surely, she is being taught to read and write, and serves as a bright, if still burgeoning, part of the Cleaver Street guard house.