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cpthero2
Great Reader

USA
2252 Posts

Posted - 02 Dec 2020 :  06:21:24  Show Profile  Visit cpthero2's Homepage Send cpthero2 a Private Message  Reply with Quote  Delete Topic
Well met Sages and Scribes:

After speaking with my players, they've ok'd sharing their journal entries from a campaign I run in the Shining South, called: A Troubled Economy. It's been running since 2017, and we play every other Saturday. I am going to share the campaign description herein and below. After that, I am going to share a basic description of each character, with a link to it on my Obsidian Portal campaign page. After that, I'll share their journals in chronological order. I hope you all enjoy the journals. I'm truly blessed to have fantastic players, who are wonderful at roleplaying as well as writing journals.

Of note! I utilize a relative alignment system, so when you read journal entries, or see other campaign material that may not stick to the absolute good/evil alignment paradigm, bear that in mind! :)

Campaign description:

quote:
The Shining Lands of Durpar, Estagund, and Var the Golden have been assailed as of late in economic turmoil. Alleged brigand problems have begun to interrupt trade from Assur in Durpar, through Estagund, and reportedly up to Earthhart of the Great Rift, and to the border of Luiren. In order to bring a solution to the problem, some of the more affected trade Chaka’s of the Shining Lands have corresponded and sent requests for a solution to the problem out to the defense Chaka’s. The defense Chaka’s have responded by looking to sub-contract out to those whom seek immediate and well paying jobs. The result has been overwhelming and inspiring.

Currently, very elite groups have been reported as being sent to the northwest of Assur to engage in a skirmish line near the border shared by Durpar and Veldorn. Others have been rumored sent further out along the trade-way northwest towards Earthhart, with some patrols extending into northern areas near the Giant’s Belt mountains and the Raurin mountains. Rumors even abound at this point about Var the Golden hiring privateers and mobilizing their own national navy to patrol and deter from the ocean. Wherever a person looks, action is at hand, important events are underway, and Waukeen’s song is singing loudly.

Regardless of the rumors, one thing can be identified very easily: in Assur, where you are at, the local defense Chaka has been conducting interviews for a couple of days now. Centered out of the temple of Lucha, it has been quite the attention getter in this city of 10,000. A wave of postings have been tacked up all over the city listing the need for all sorts of people to conduct many kinds of missions, and much more, all requesting your presence at the temple of Lucha. The listing of pay while written as depending on experience, rumors out to the public as being quite hefty. This in and of itself seems to lend some credence to the seriousness of the situation.




Higher Atlar
Spirit Soaring

Edited by - cpthero2 on 06 Dec 2020 17:36:38

cpthero2
Great Reader

USA
2252 Posts

Posted - 03 Dec 2020 :  20:27:26  Show Profile  Visit cpthero2's Homepage Send cpthero2 a Private Message  Reply with Quote
Character Spotlight

Jarus Ravendael

Rogue 20 / Dark Delver 3 / Mythic Tier 1 / Chosen of Leira

A Charming Half-Elf Rogue, friend to everyone, enemy to everyone else. He walks with a swagger not uncommon to his kind, and backs it up with the kind of roguish charm that could woo the iciest barmaid (and frequently has).

Jarus was born to a Human father and Elven mother, a common situation for someone of his half-bred nature. Jarus' name means "Dove Kin" in Elven, given to him by his mother in reference to his fair skin. Jarus' father, Tarn, was a successful merchant living in Shadowdale, the descendant of Drow-owned slaves he made a point to make his ancestors proud and become independently wealthy. Jarus' mother Mylia (Emerald Mistress) was a wood elf, raised in the forests surrounding Shadowdale.

At a young age, Jarus was enamored with the tales of the traveling Adventurers passing through Shadowdale. He would sneak down to the inn and spend long nights listening to the roving band's tales. He spent his teen years learning the skills that would be necessary for the life of an adventurer. Jarus quickly learned that what he lacked in strength he easily made up for in agility and guile, One day at the local inn, Jarus encountered a man who would change his life, a rogue by the name of "Thale", Thale sensed much potential in Jarus and he agreed to train him in the roguish arts. After Jarus turned 17, he traveled with Thale to Amn for training. He spent years under Thale's tutelage, learning the secrets of stealth, trap-finding and lock-picking. Jarus dual-heritage made him a natural diplomat and a cunning swindler.

At the age of 21, Jarus returned to Shadowdale to begin his adventures with his new found skills. The next 4 years went quickly for Jarus, but he gained the admiration of the local adventurers quickly. And while the thrill of adventure is alluring, Jarus finds himself primarily drawn to his adventuring career for the gold, in his heart, Jarus share's his father's self-sufficient desire. If you've got a lock to be picked, a trap to be sprung or a deal to be made, he's always available to help... for a price.

PRE-CAMPAIGN PSYCH PROFILE
Jarus is a smooth talker and a expert at gathering intel. His lust for gold often leads to his neutral mindset, he'll generally work for anyone, as long as the price is right. He has an extreme prejudice against Drow, resulting from his ancestor's enslavement at their hands. As a half-elf, Jarus makes friends quite easily and is incredibly loyal, in fact his loyalty to his friends is perhaps the one thing that could mean more to him than a large bag of gold.

Through his time of training in Amn, he formed many contacts in the underworld, if there is information to be found, he knows how. He's not the most adept at combat, and he knows that, he often play's up his non-combat abilities and his usefulness in diplomatic and stealth situations to compensate. He's not only agile physically, but also mentally, he often reacts fast with a quip or comeback, often times getting himself into trouble.

TRAITS
Charming, Makes friends easily
Cocky attitude, but not overbearing
Neutral in most situations
Easily swayed by gold
Smooth talker, can usually talk his way out of any situation, and failing that, he's even better at escaping capture
Has underworld connections, very efficient at gathering intel and useful information when in urban areas

CURRENT CAMPAIGN PSYCH PROFILE
A smooth talker and an expert snoop, Jarus is a rogue who plies his charm and deft hands to gather intel and secrets. Always vigilant and hyper-aware of his surroundings, he is adept at "creative disarming" of traps and is a highly agile acrobat. Makes friends easily and is fiercely loyal.

Though a mercenary for hire, he has developed a more fluid moral compass based on freedom, and his life experiences and that drives his decisions. He abhors demons, devils and other evil creatures. Jarus has come to the faith of the Lady of Mists, and through his dedication attained a Chosen place in her ranks. His dedication to his faith is profound, and he is deadly, inventive, and ingenious in executing it.

TRAITS:
Charming, Makes friends easily
Extreme paranoia tied to glyphs and runes
Believes in his outlook on the greater good, not as much in laws
Fiercely loyal, to a fault
Skilled acrobat, spy, and thief
Harper agent*

*Developing on status

Check him and other characters out on Obsidian Portal, and Jarus' character site, respectively: https://a-troubled-economy.obsidianportal.com/ AND https://heroes.failrogue.com/hero/jarus







Higher Atlar
Spirit Soaring

Edited by - cpthero2 on 06 Dec 2020 04:54:22
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cpthero2
Great Reader

USA
2252 Posts

Posted - 06 Dec 2020 :  04:08:13  Show Profile  Visit cpthero2's Homepage Send cpthero2 a Private Message  Reply with Quote
Character Spotlight

Shayzala Bellasong

Priestess 24 / Mythic Tier 1 / Chosen of Leira

Shayzala Bellasong, her name is as lovely as her appearance and as beautiful as her heart. Her raven black hair and sapphire eyes will soothe any creature that gazes upon her. She is a human cleric/former healer who grew up in the beautiful city Halarahh. Daughter of two experienced adventuring sorcerers who eventually opened an apothecary, she broke away from their worship of Mystra and Azuth to follow her heart of healing those who were ill or injured. As a devout follower of Illmater she traveled the countryside as a battle medic in her younger years until she teamed up with an adventuring party who would then go on to save the world. But victory was short lived as she and her friend Jarus were transported to another timeline to relive the horror all over again. Armed with a new faith, new friends, and new challenges, she must push on if she is to see her loved ones again. As the chosen of her new God and thr new found freedom of choice, she has shed her old ways as a silent unquestioning healer and now revels in the power of a priestess of Leira.

Check out Shayzala on the campaign site at Obsidian Portal: https://a-troubled-economy.obsidianportal.com/characters/shayzala-bellasong








Higher Atlar
Spirit Soaring

Edited by - cpthero2 on 06 Dec 2020 04:09:39
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cpthero2
Great Reader

USA
2252 Posts

Posted - 06 Dec 2020 :  04:53:18  Show Profile  Visit cpthero2's Homepage Send cpthero2 a Private Message  Reply with Quote
Character Spotlight

Shino Fumei

Shugenja 11 / Ex-Justiciar of Tyr 9 / Contemplative 2 / Mythic Tier 1 / Chosen of Leira

From Iiso, Wa, Shino, son of Danjo had lived a very ordered life. A methodical man, devoted to his life as a Shugenja, his father, and his friends. Not the kind to rush into most engagements, he would prefer to study the situation and devise a plan; however, he is known to fiercely burn to smoldering ashes, anything that crosses the line: whatever that may be for him at the time. Generally looks down on physical violence, but also understands that there are situations where it is unavoidable. He is not a coward and will do what he feels is best in the moment, to bring the greatest benefit to what he perceives in the moment. Shino has a code or honor that he lives by, most of which is just as his society would have him believe to be, but most of it is surface deep. He would not swindle anyone, at least not with any kind of evidence to pin against him. Shino is quite intelligent, so when he does commit to such deceptions, he will puzzle out a way to contravene the evidence. Personal property of others is never to be destroyed in an act of vengeance. The only time personal property is to be damaged is when it is necessary to do so in order for the purposes of survival. Shino looks down at those who are unable to help themselves. Not that everyone has to be able to survive on their own, but he needs to have the ability to do something that is needed in a group dynamic. An orderly society is important, at whatever level. Close friends and family are very important to Shino, but anyone else is just a tool to get things done. This doesn’t imply he uses people in nefarious ways, however Shino recognizes that people are there to perform a task and that is their usefulness. He slowly warms up to people but only after they have proven that they are worth their salt in one way or another. If one part of the group does not return this mentality, he will cut them out of his circle. Shino is very discerning in his acceptance of people and what that means for bringing them in to be a part of the group. If they work together and help, he will share with them, but if not then he finds them unfit for his inner circle, and disallows any development of a relationship from that point onward.

In recent times, in finding that personal freedom is vastly superior to servitude to a deity that compels one to live their lives according to some code that is nothing short of menial servitude, Shino has come to the faith of the Lady of Mists. True freedom hearkens from the free soul, unbound by the limitations of others views and beliefs. As a Chosen of Leira, he knows the importance of bringing freedom to the world, and to break the incessant controls places upon people for no other reason than to feed the never ending hunger of the gods in their bid for souls.

Higher Atlar
Spirit Soaring
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cpthero2
Great Reader

USA
2252 Posts

Posted - 06 Dec 2020 :  04:57:57  Show Profile  Visit cpthero2's Homepage Send cpthero2 a Private Message  Reply with Quote
Character Spotlight

Tjordiir Trueforger

Inquisitor 24 / Mythic Tier 1 / Chosen of Leira

A lean, hazel eyes, grey/red haired Dwarf from Mirabar, this Dwarf has seen years and events far beyond his lived years. He venerated Haela Brightaxe, but came to his true faith in the Lady of the Mists.

Character Bio Intro & Partial Update

A once proud kaxanar, now following his own truth, Tjordiir's scared arms, sunken eyes, and frayed beard tell of a journeyed life...

Born in Waterdeep, his father chose to leave the family forge his his brother and raise Tjordiir in his own home of Mirabar. It was here that Tjordiir began his early training to eventually earn his clan name of Trueforger. At adulthood, he trained with the Axe of Mirabar, eventually deciding to venture to the family forge, following tale of a vine blight that had poisoned his favorite vineyard. He trained under his uncle, learning all he could from his family forge, before his uncle sent him to Athkatla to train with a master smith. Here, he joined King Dhanar's military, setting aside his family tradition. He aided the king, training under a superior until the Luckmaiden herself threw a hand into fate...

His superior had become tainted by the king's delusions, deeming any mage as evil. They came across an elven acolyte amoung a group of children, hiding in fear. Tjordiir's superior demanded they be executed, but he refused. His superior went to kill the elf, and a child stepped between, wherein Tjordiir executed his superior and aided the elf and children to escape. Then on, working as a double agent to help the Temple District attempt to fight back.

He found love in the arms of Alim Nessik, the elven acolyte. They began to live together in a flat in Athkatla, helping with the movement, until the night the king burned down the Temple District. Alim and Tjordiir helped who they could escape, but Alim died to his wounds, burning in the flames. Tjordiir wandered the roads, aimless in a heartbroken stupor until eventually coming to Riatavan, where he was recruited to the Harpers. Through many jobs and identies, he eventually came to once he never finished. In the midst of a fight with Zhentarum Agents, they caught Tjordiir in a swirling pit of earth, where he woke up in the underdark, staring at two wanese men, one elderly while the other was much younger. They were accompanied by a ragged child, and a timid hin, his new brothers in arms to save Abeir-Toril from it's certain destruction!

________________________________

Initial Bio and Psyche Profile

Tjordiir Brightaxe was born in Waterdeep, but grew up in the great mining city of Mirabar. Throughout his youth and adolescence, he spent most of his waking days as most did, smithing goods for trade. It was the way of life for many of his kind before they reached adulthood in their fifth decade.

He was an average dwarf of average height and build, nothing spectacular shone upon his person, that is, other then the deep reddened scars that trailed up both his arms. Outside of smithing, Tjordiir spent his free time in study, namely learning the nuances of becoming a Bloodmaiden. He was a quick study, falling into the more grey areas of an Inquisitor of the Luckmaiden, willing to do what it takes in the name of the Lady.

Once he reached full adulthood, he spent the better part of a decade perfecting his divine arts and training under the Axe of Mirabar, commanded by Torgar Hammestriker, a battle worn, scar covered dwarf. He lead his militia in many battles, keeping the mines of Mirabar clear of any threats, as well as the city itself.

The first real battle Tjordiir got to see was when a horde of orcs attacked the city itself, attempting to invade the western wall. Tjordiir fought strong with the Axe, even when it was discovered that the true threat came from the east. Haela graced him with luck, as his family always thought, and she guided his greatsword straight through his enemies, keeping him safe for another day of battle. The Axe overpowered the orcs, driving them from Mirabar, keeping the mines safe from harm. The scimitar that Tjordiir wielded was passed down to him from his father, and to him from his father. It has seen many battles, and it’s owners only died from age. Carved into the handle were his father’s name, Rurik, and his grandfather’s name, Ulfgar. He had only witnessed the carving of his father’s name, as his grandfather was long dead by the time he inherited the blade. This was the tradition of his family when they passed the sword to their young, reaching an elder age. Tjordiir planned to reforge the blade once his skills were honed, possibly keeping only the hilt if he found an ore of more significant use.

After the Axe of Mirabar had defeated their foe, Tjordiir had got word of a terrible blight, affecting some of his favorite wines. A nasty vine-blight had began to plague the lands, destroying local vineyards. It was right around this time that he has also got word of an increase in undead in the City of the Dead, residing in Waterdeep. He took it upon himself to retire from the Axe and make way into the world. Thinking the undead and vine-blight may be connected, he made his way to Waterdeep to aid in their eradication.

In his travels, he heard whispers of a new goddess, Loviatar. People spoke of cultists rising up and committing evil acts in her name. Presumably, this could be connected to the vine-blight and the undead, so Tjordiir kept his eyes out for any of these cultists as he traveled. Evil was not a force he wanted to deal with, but he could bring it to a swift end if needed.

Arriving in Waterdeep, he was in awe at the size of the city. Surely there was wealth to be had here, possibly even new metals he could interact with, but he was here with a purpose. He made his way to the local officials and volunteered to help rid the City of the Dead of the undead that had been rising. They were more then happy to take a volunteer, and Tjordiir spent his next many days helping to remove the undead presence. Once they were taken down, Tjordiir rented himself a small, yet decent home, choosing to pick up his profession for a few years and make some coin until he got restless.

Assassinations were on the rise. Many citizens were blaming the followers of Loviatar, and many of them were correct. Tensions were high in Waterdeep, as the guilds went through petty fights, eventually breaking into an all out fight. Not willing to fight for causes he didn’t believe in, Tjordiir simply made for the sunny lands of Ahm, settling in Athkatla.

The City of Coin was a new life to Tjordiir, as all sorts of debauchery was tolerated there. The marketplace was vast, easily twice the size of Waterdeep. Seeing this as a great opportunity to use his smithing skills, he took what coin he had left from his days in Waterdeep and set up shop, making coin much more easily here. He found himself making friends with a certain mage from the Temple District, an elf by the name of Alim Nessik. They became friends on one night where Alim managed to drink Tjordiir under the table, earning his respect, as out-drinking a dwarf was not an easy task.

When Tjordiir arrivied in Athkatla, he could sense the powerfully tense undertone of the city: some things were wrong here. However, a great many things had been picked up about Athkatla on his journey there, and it seemed like a sensible move. Afterall, how many times had a poor performing/new bard, singing for his meal, had provided information on a place that was way off base, and ended up being terrible advice listening to him. A gentle reminder to make sure to keep a good running list of reputable bards and their guilds, to look out for, to avoid fake news. In the case of Athkatla, it sadly was not bad information, and it was a matter of a couple of months in the city before it all went sideways.
The King of Ahm, King Dhanar condemned and outlawed mages. Tjordiir fought along side the Temple District, ultimately loosing it, as the king set it all aflame. Alim lost his life in the fight, forcing Tjordiir to loose the first true bonded friendship he had made, as his kind did not take on friends easy. Shortly after Alim’s death, Tjordiir took to the road, just to get him out of Athkatla, as it was too hard for him to live there with a constant reminder of his friends death.

As he pushes through the town of Amnwater, taking in the small, quick, and pleasant sites of one of those sleepy and beautiful inner country towns that contently lives out its simple existence you learn from caravans heading towards Athkatla that the next major place on your route is Keczulla: an abandoned and ruined city with a mysterious past. However, the news is that it was recently reclaimed after many military and mercenary bands worked for years to clear out an apparent large troll city. As of now, and to avoid unnecessary looting (though his suspicions are that Waukeen’s Promenade likely has something to do with this as there are Waukeen waystations in increasing numbers as you approach the ruined but reclaimed city). Upon arriving within 4 miles of the city, you are stopped by military guards and informed that for your safety, no entry is permitted until further notice says otherwise.
Turning south, Tjordiir took the scenic route along the Gem Road, running parallel to Splendarrllur, past the famously stunning and panoramic views of Akaray’s Bay on Lake Esmel. Passing through Esmeltaran, over the River Esmel, under the Kings’ Arch, and along the Imnescourse, eventually arriving in a large, bustling city of Riatavin. It is here that Tjordiir finds himself the ability to purchase some land just outside the northeastern wall of the city, with he Snowflake Mountains behind him, to the east. He builds himself a small home, a barn, some stout sheds, buildings for his animals, and his smith. It is here that over the course of the almost next 100 years that Tjordiir establishes for himself, a peaceful, beautiful, and fulfilling life…in many interesting ways.
Tjordiir slowly, but surely, establishes himself as a trustworthy, decent, and reliable smith who can produce a great many important, and ingenious in some cases, farm, hunting, trapping, and carpentry based items.
Though Tjordiir’s true passion for smithing weapons and armor are where his heart and mind divert to here and there, the reality is, that unless he has the money to get land, the items, and the ability to penetrate the market in Riatavin against so much already established businesses, he needed to get a business going that could make him money, and begin to legitimately establish himself.
Unexpectedly so, he ended up doing well enough that traders, hunters, and farmers specifically began providing him with upwards of 80% of his business. The needs that they had, they knew they could count on Tjordiir to produce pins, hoops, snaps, brackets, and other items needed to enhance, repair, and create from nothing, items that made those working a good, solid, country life easier, and more productive.
The business eventually developed into a name well known for reliable, quality goods. Though not a term that Tjordiir came up with, eventually, those travelling through to the Snowflakes found themselves referring to the location as Tjordiir’s Waymoot.
As things are prone to do, eventually a waystop was established by an enterprising young Elf, by the name Enducive Earynspier. This waystop was named The Mighty Mythal. The setup couldn’t have been better created, as random things usually turn out the best, or many people think anyhow. Over the course of the next 82 years, life was fantastic!
Tjordiir eventually grew bored of the life in his Waymoot. Luckily, Enducive had some connections and was able to set up an apprenticeship with a master smith in Lapaliiya, by the name of Master Smith Aelin-Arausamman. Tjordiir transferred operational control of the waymoot to Enducive in the event of his possible future return, and set out to Uzurr.
As most apprenticeships go, Tjordiir spent the better part of a decade in the tutelage of the master smith and simply continued living out his life as a friendly smith.

Psyche Profile

An aged dwarf and a veteran of many battles, Tjordiir often has restless nights. His dreams are haunted by fallen brothers, and an often repeated vision of hellish flames slowly consuming the Temple District of Athlatka. An elf, by the name of Alim Nessik, dies in his arms each and every time the dream consumes his rest, making him relive the moment one of his true friends died.

Tjordiir chooses to travel alone, or when needed, in a small group. Death weighs heavy on his shoulders, as he has both seen and caused quite a few. He has learned to tolerate many races often looked down upon in dwarven culture, his life as a sword for hire teaching him that an able blade comes in many hands.

He takes great pride in his family name, Trueforger, carrying a blade his grandfather had crafted before the walls of Waterdeep were formed. The blade’s name was Findargland, meaning “luck blade” in the dwarven tongue. Tjordiir had learned it’s name to be true, despite the times he may be one of the few left standing in a battlefield, surrounded by the fallen.

He stayes true to the Luckmaiden, Haela Brightaxe, strongly believing she is the reason he is alive.
Devout prayer, often a silent ritual in the mornings, are a part of Tjordiir’s morning ritual, while cleaning and sharpening his blade. As time permits, he hones his family craft of weaponsmithing, hoping to one day craft a blade that would make his grandfather proud. As such, he is on a constant journey to find a fine ore to craft a better blade.

When Tjordiir may have a decent profit in his pocket, it is often spent on the finest meals and fine wines or ales he can find, which is what often caused his travel. His first journey from home was to investigate a vine-blight in Waterdeep, bringing him to his family home, as he himself was born in Mirabar. When he finds a fine paired meal and beverage, he often will spent at least a tenday in the tavern, throwing his earned coin away in debauchery.

When part of a group, he is loyal, and will fight to the death. He is battle hardened and will not back down from a fight unless everyone is retreating. The midst of the fight is where he feels the most at home, it is where his mind clears and his nerves steady. It is where the screams of burning women and children are muffled, the smell of blood and sweat masking the stench of burning flesh.

He enjoys a good battle, and spelunking is his favorite past time. If done alone, he can loose days studying rock formations, if in a group, he often grumbles things like, “Sure, let the dwarf look at the stones,” or “I have no neck to stick around these corners, why would you have me peek around?!”

Points of Interest

Due to the events of the purge in Athlatka, Tjordiir has a deep-seeded respect, near the point of fear, of extreme flame, especially if the screams of someone burning alive can be heard.
*He does not consider people friends easily, but is loyal to a group he is part of.
Often times may wake from sleep, startled from nightmares of his past.
*Does not make small talk unless it is over different foods and ales.
Feels most at home underground, as do many of his kind
*Hides behind a typical “dwarven grumble,” often indicating he is doing something he enjoys when doing so
He finds peace in battle, making him fairly level headed in times of personal crisis.
*Willing to place himself in grave danger to protect others, forever haunted by those he could not help.





Higher Atlar
Spirit Soaring

Edited by - cpthero2 on 06 Dec 2020 09:42:58
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cpthero2
Great Reader

USA
2252 Posts

Posted - 06 Dec 2020 :  05:10:03  Show Profile  Visit cpthero2's Homepage Send cpthero2 a Private Message  Reply with Quote
Character Spotlight

Danjo

PLACE HOLDER

Higher Atlar
Spirit Soaring
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cpthero2
Great Reader

USA
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Posted - 06 Dec 2020 :  05:12:28  Show Profile  Visit cpthero2's Homepage Send cpthero2 a Private Message  Reply with Quote
Character Spotlight

Chand Breckens

PLACE HOLDER

Higher Atlar
Spirit Soaring
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cpthero2
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Posted - 06 Dec 2020 :  05:31:43  Show Profile  Visit cpthero2's Homepage Send cpthero2 a Private Message  Reply with Quote
Character Spotlight

Epaphus Nalambar

Bard 20 / Sublime Chord 3 / Mythic Archmage 1 / Chosen of Leira

Epaphus is an Aasimar of otherworldly beauty, charm, and presence. His flowing, snow white hair, coupled with his emerald eyes that fade to turquoise at the center often hide the truly outrageous power that this Aasimar possesses. A true and loyal friend to both his friends and the Lady of Mists.

https://a-troubled-economy.obsidianportal.com/characters/epaphus-nalambar

Character Bio

My names is Epaphus Nalambar. I was conceived in Vaelan during the Summertide of 1350 DR. I was not born human, or rather I should say I was not born fully human. As I found out later in life I am an aasimar, a being that’s been touched by a celestial. To this day I am still figuring out if this was a curse or a gift. My mother though, Nismet Nalambar, would always say that I carried the most beautiful emeralds in my eyes. I lived a comfortable life in Vaelan, seeing as my mother was the head of chaka Nalambar. Our chaka dealt in the importation of rare goods, along with the occasional exportation of local wares to neighboring countries. Although we were not one of the biggest chakas in Vaelan we certainly made a good fortune, my mother always had the best connections somehow. I always loved the view of the ocean from the window of our tower, I used to watch it go from the golden hues of sunset down the the hour of twilight. I would sometimes get lost in the reflection of the stars of the night sky, wishing I could swim in that captivating cosmos. My mother was always surprised to see me sitting on the windowsill in the abyss that was my room, the moonlight just barely illuminating my figure. I spent most of my childhood alone in the tower.

I was raised on learning the trade of trading I guess is what you could say. I would study various texts on how to conduct business, assess the value of various goods, as well as learning to establish reliable connections for future trading. My favorite books though were the ones on constellations. I always liked staring at the pictures in them, seeing if I can find the same constellations in the night sky. Whenever I felt overwhelmed with the various subjects I had to learn for the chaka I would sneak out to the docks and fish. I enjoyed the serenity in it, admiring the waters and seeing what I could catch this time, plus the chef was always impressed when I would come back with my own dinner for him to cook. My mother was almost never around, always attending some party or off to see what the trade ships brought in for possible sales. Most of my care was left to the servants, particularly a shield dwarf by the name of Taldaim. Taldaim was pratically my father and my mentor, he was a retired Curnan priest that used to specialize in economics. He showed me the way of the Adama, and how that influences every part of our life and business. Taldaim has been around for quite some time, so more often than not he had an answer to every question I could conjure up. My favorite memories of Taldaim were the ones when he would join me for a day of fishing, where he would then talk at length to me about his times at the temple of Curna. I remember one day asking him why he deciding to become my caretaker. His response was that I was such a unique child that he had never seen anyone like me before, and that he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to learn how unique I truly was. I asked if he knew what I was then, to which he looked at me confused. “Why, you’re a durparian, simple as that.” He said, giving a warm smile. “Well, yeah.” I replied. “But I’m not human, am I?” “Aye, but that doesn’t matter here in Durpar. As long as you live a fair life and keep your chaka wealthy, everyone will accept you as one of them. Why, I would even reckon to say they’ll even come to admire those emerald eyes of yours Epaphus.” Taldaim was the first one to made me realize that I was lucky to be born here in Vaelen, and to this day I still see him as the father I never had. I did not resent my mother for her absence though, because she would always come back with a trove of gossip and news to share with me, saying that I was “the only one she could trust sometimes”. And by the time I was helping out the chaka I came to see that our business definitely keeps us running everywhere, trying to find the next customer for our wares.

Not everyone liked my mother unfortunately, some people even going as far as to say that she should learn not to stick her nose in other people’s business. I adored my mother for that trait though, because in the end she was always helping out those who needed it most. There were even a few times my mother had exposed some other chakas, revealing that their conduct of business was not entirely honest. Other times though I would see visitors come into our tower with my mother, where they would converse in private in her study. I always wondered what they were talking about, but her study were strictly off limits to anyone besides her. My father on the other hand, was never around. He was the biggest mystery of my childhood, because I was never able to get a clear answer as to who he was. There were no paintings of him in the tower, and no servant had even seen a hair of him since they began working for my mother. My mother always seemed to dodge the question, always ending up describing him as a brilliant man with simple views on life. She once described him as having the profile of an angel, conveniently leaving out any actual descriptions of his appearance. I have grown to resent my father slightly, having been the reason for who I am and not even taking a single opportunity to find his son. It was not the lack of presence in my life from my father, I had grown accustomed to that from my mother already. Rather, it was the fact that to this day I have yet to receive a single message from him. Does he even know he has a son here in Vaelen? By the time I was thirteen, I knew it was time for me to start thinking about leaving the tower to discover what I can bring to the chaka. It was around then that I encountered a priest of Curna by the name of Oskar. Oskar was a friend of Taldaim, said they used to work together before Taldaim retired. He claimed he knew what I was, an aasimar, and that I was truly a rare individual. I wasn’t so keen on seeing it as much of a blessing as he did, but he offered me a deal. He would be willing to take me as an apprentice and teach me what I needed to run the chaka I was in line of inheriting, and in the process tell me more of what I truly am. In exhange though, I would consent to him researching me in further detail and write a report about my kind to enrich the people of Toril on what it means to be an aasimar. I saw no wrong in this, even if I did not admit it freely I had always wanted to know just what exactly I was. And so with a firm shake and a night in the tavern spent learning all about who I was, I ended up being apprenticed to Oskar, priest of Curna.

Life in the temple of Curna was different than the life I was used to in the tower. My living quarter was half the size of my room in the tower, but it was still decently furnished. Not only that, but I was now expected to prepare my own meals, something I had never taken the time to learn. Luckily the chef sent me off with a few recipes of my favorite dishes, and if need be I could always visit the tower again to learn how to improve my cooking. What I was most surprised by though, was the wealth of knowledge in my new home. The temple carried scrolls and books pertaining to all subjects of life, from simple farming methods to tales of the deities themselves. No knowledge was forbidden from me, which only furthered my hunger to learn all I could from this place. I learned of the recent schism in the following of Curna due to Patriarch Cullen Kordamant’s disappearance. Oskar and I hand long conversations sometimes as to where he could possibly be, with me even jestering that maybe he grew tired of priesthood and vanished to a nearby town to live a life of farming and romancing the local barmaids. Oskar laughed at those theories, saying he wished the answers Curna gave them were that simple. It was also during this time I had realized the irony in my mother’s words about my father in my discovery as being an aasimar. To think I was the product of a celestial and a human, it certainly puts a weight on your shoulders. After all, what should such a rare being do with their life? Oskar said I could live far longer than any human, but is that such a good thing? I fear in realizing who I was I ended up with more questions than answers. Certainly I can easily sway people into my favor, Oskar
even showed me my innate ability to produce light from a simple touch of my hand. With all this power though, I have to be wary that I don’t let it get to my head. After all, who knows how far my manipulation of the mind could lead someone to do?

I ended up living in the temple for quite a while, investing the time spent to improve my economics, linguistics, diplomacy, as well as some minor astrology for fun. This lead to actively conversing with visitors to learn how the land is currently running. I was always eager to sit down and listen to their stories, inscribing it upon scrolls in order to expand the temple’s library. I always enjoyed the bards that came to visit, they knew how to take any story and make it exciting. Of course most of the bards that came to visit did not offer much other than rumors and myths, with most of the visitors being scholars and tradesmen checking on the current economic affairs of the shining lands. And then, three years into my career at the Temple of Curna, I heard the news of my mother’s assassination.

I remember the night well. It was a normal night in Vaelen, heavy raindrops filling the silence of the night. I was helping some visitors by pointing them to a nearby inn when Taldaim stormed into the temple, drenched in water and breathing heavy. Before I could even ask him what’s wrong, he gave me a grim look that forebode the worst news.

“It’s your mother.” He said “She’s been found dead in her study.”

I don’t remember much of the trip to my old home, besides the splashing of puddles as I ran there and the beating of my heart. I arrived at the tower, my lungs burning with exhaustion. My body did not stop though, my eyes searching for the familiar study as I pushed past the guards. As I reached the room the scene I stumbled across shook me to the core. The study was a mess, books and papers scattered across in clear signs of a fight. What caught my eye the most though was all the crimson that now adorned the room, and in the center of it all lied my mother. Her dress was sliced from a few missed attacks, stained red from the two wounds on her body. One of which was an arrow in her side, possibly the first attack on her. The other wound though, a slice across her throat, showed that was the mortal draw on her being. There lied her body, slumped against a bookshelf sitting in a puddle of her own blood.

At that point it became too much for me to bear. I left the room quickly and leaned against the wall outside, my lunch leaving me as it sunk in at what I just saw. I sank down on the floor, crying for what seemed to be hours. It was then Taldaim approached to comfort me, his firm hand on my shoulder being the only light in the horrible night.

“Who would want to steal such a beautiful life from this world?” I managed to sob out towards Taldaim.

“I don’t know, your mother had people who disliked her, but I can think of no person she knew that would go as far as this.” Taldaim replied, wiping the few tears that were surfacing to his face now.
After a while I managed to compose myself enough to go back in. There had to be something to reason as to why this happened. Alas, after what seemed like forever all I could come up with was a message hidden in the desk. The message seemed to be written in code, which seemed odd for my mother to have.

The funeral was mostly a blur to me. It all seemed like pointless pomp and circumstance, seeing as none of it would be able to undo that horrible night. Maybe it only seemed that way too due to the countless nights I ended up in the tavern, drowning my sorrows. I brought the message to the temple, asking Oskar to help me decode it. It took some time, but we managed to find out the message was a warning for my mother. It warned of a dangerous individual coming into town, seeking to destroy “those who harp”. Oskar was as lost as me, in the end leaving me with more questions rather than answers about my mothers death. If I ever find the person who did this, I swear I will send him to the grave. After being lead to a dead end, I eventually grew sick of Vaelen. The merchants I traded with regularly were sorry, but it was back to business as usual. I was somewhat sickened by this, seeing the city run as if nothing happened. It was then I came to realize something about chaka Nalambar; I was trying to help run it for my mother, but not for me in the end. And so with my mother gone, what is holding me down to this place?

It was around then I saw one of the bards of Heldapan come in to the tavern the same time I was drinking my third ale. I invited him over to sit with me, better to drink with someone than alone. We ended talking about Vaelen, and all that it had to offer. I told him this city no longer held any beauty to me, and if I could I would leave it in a heartbeat. He laughed at the comment, saying that as it so happens the bard college in Heldapan is looking for recruits. I admitted while I appreciate the bards who came by the temple give I never thought about being one. Maybe it was the booze helping, but he was ringing all the right bells with me with his explanation of what they do. He said I could travel around, find stories and information that other people would pay good money for. Not only that, but that information could even make a difference. I could reveal the corruption of a king, or help the economy flourish with new trade routes. Not only that, but if I found the town not turning up any coin for me then there would be nothing stopping me from going to the next town. By the time he was done explaining what the bard college can do for me, I was already asking how to get there.
I waited until the next night to make my departure. I took 20 platinum along with 50 silver from the vault, the only other thing I took that was not money was my travel pack and my mother’s pendant. The pendant was simple, being made of silver and only adorning a crest of a moon and harp. I left a signed contract in my study, stating the chaka was to be handed over to Taldaim. I was not sure if he would want such responsibility, but I could not trust the business with any other person. With my belongings ready I threw on a cloak and a pair of shaded lenses, taking off into the night. I still wish I had gotten to say goodbye to Taldaim, but I do not regret the choices I made.

It was exciting to visit Heldapan. After all, no one knew who I was, it was a fresh start for me. What better place to start anew as well, knowing that the bard college will take anyone who walks in? This was the change I was seeking. I arrived in Heldapan around 1367 DR, spending the next four years at the bard college. I learned what it meant to find leads to a good story, how to look for clues to the next step. I did not care much for singing though, instead I studied stories and tales more often than songs and poems. I also discovered that a bard is more valuable for the way he can change people’s minds rather than the sword he uses to protect himself. I found myself conflicted once again. I was a natural to all of this due to my being as an aasimar, and I was celebrated for being so talented. I felt proud of what I could do, but also worried that I may be honing myself into a dangerous weapon. I have to be careful that I don’t end up falling to the darker side of me, for as much as I want to find the killer of my mother I cannot pursue it endlessly. I must be patient, and wait for a solid lead before chasing after that shadow. I hope my mother can forgive me for leaving the business, but I had to start living life to how I wanted to live it.

I now set out on my own, ready to make my name out there. In the college there has been constant talk of the trade problem happening from Durpar to Earthhart. Reports show brigand problems, and the fight against it has been going on for quite some time. If they’re hiring people to help with the fight, they’re sure to pay well for those who find information on the brigands or ways of helping with the trade. If I can find a way to stop the troubled economy, I’ll be able to not only make a fortune, but help out all of the Shining Lands. This could be my chance to make a difference, and I’m ready to face the dangers that might lurk in chasing after this dream.

Character Psyche Profile

It is widely believed the Aasimar are of two extremes, two sides of a coin. You have the side those worship, their celestial blood practically radiating through their body as those look in awe. The other side are those who have lost all faith in the goodness of man, their mind and soul twisting to a calibur akin to natives of the infernal plane. I stand to give testament to rest that fall into neither of these sides, existing neatly between the two faces of this coin. If I had learned one thing since leaving the bardic college is that there is not a being in this existence that does not seek something. Money, power, destruction, control, these are the elements that drive everything. The gods uphold these ideals by their actions and intent. Good will always fight evil, law will always try to control chaos. What those of mortal blood have that is seldom praised is that elusive power of choice, choice to shape and control their very being. While gods must uphold the strict conditions they have been given to use their vast power, mortals can freely shape their truth as they see fit. Even with the countless dangers I have faced, I continue to face more in order to perserve all on Toril to continue using this sublime gift and chase their own truth. It's amazing really, having seen myself in these past few days push my limits to unimaginable lengths. The knowledge I can pull from my own mind on the arcane, along with the exact theories and introspection on the planes of existence, could be matched with the greatest scholars of my time. While I may not strike as hard as my companions, I have learned to speak the words of creation itself, weaving them into song so that I may assure my companions bring a swift end to any opposing force. I have touched the blood of the earth, met Asmodeous himself, and even watched the ascension of a god. Thoughts of what to do if we achieve our goal no longer cross my mind, but rather thoughts of when we achieve it. And after all is said and done, I think the first thing I will do is go to Vaelan and finally have a cup of coffee as I watch the sun set on the golden waters of the shining south.



Higher Atlar
Spirit Soaring

Edited by - cpthero2 on 06 Dec 2020 07:43:02
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cpthero2
Great Reader

USA
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Posted - 06 Dec 2020 :  05:48:01  Show Profile  Visit cpthero2's Homepage Send cpthero2 a Private Message  Reply with Quote
DECEASED

Ayda "Eris" Loradon A manipulative Moon Elf with serious mental health issues. Orphaned at a young age, with a terrible life on the streets, Ayda sought a better life for herself. Already acquainted with danger living on the streets, she sought out another path.

Rogue 6

https://a-troubled-economy.obsidianportal.com/characters/ayda-eris-loradon

Character Bio

Ayda’s mother and father were the luckiest coupling of Moon Elves near the city of Baldur’s Gate for they had, after a decade of trying, conceived a child. On the day that Elestrianna, Ayda’s mother learned for sure of her pregnancy from her visit with the local midwife she went to the local Moon Elf silversmith and commissioned a piece of work that would say her daughter’s name in an ambigramatic style. Her father, Elraistlian, on the advice of the community Oracle, commissioned a dagger for his daughter. The request of the Oracle gave the expectant parents pause because a weapon is rarely a gift for a child.

A week after Ayda’s birth the Oracle foresaw an attack on their community by a band of Drow. This band of Drow was sent to find this small and relatively unknown band of Moon Elves specifically because one of the high clerics in their home city had a vision granted from Lolth of a Moon Elf from Baldurs’ Gate becoming a huge problem in the future and Lolth wanted this to be preemptively taken care of. The Oracle told the couple that the only way Ayda would survive this coming attack is if she was not present when it commenced. To protect her daughter, Elestrianna, fled two days ahead of the attack with Ayda in a basket with both gifts; The necklace around the tiny baby’s’ waist as a belt; the Dagger magically sealed into the only set of clothes that were in the basket. Elestrianna left Ayda at a The Unrolling Scroll, knowing that someone would find her, before racing to return to her village in the hopes of helping her husband, or avenging him. None of the Moon Elf camp were ever heard from again. A week or so later a traveler found many dead Moon Elves within a day’s run from Baldur’s Gate.

Ayda’s most treasured possession is her elven necklace of silver which proves her heritage and is one memento of her family; the craftsmanship on the necklace is such that the word is an ambigram, which is to say that if it is viewed right side up or upside down it still spells her name. The only other possession she has from her family is a small dagger that she can hide up her sleeve and the sheathe to go with it; It is an elven quality weapon.

After finding Ayda in a basket at The Unrolling Scroll, a local shopkeeper Bartley took her to a local orphanage. With the passage of time, Ayda grew up under the watchful eyes of her caretakers. Being that she was a young Moon Elf she was exceptionally pretty for her age. Ayda was thrown out of the orphanage when Torok, a half-orc orphan, tried to beat Ayda senseless however Ayda was able to find and use a dagger to defend herself. Torok wound up in the infirmary. Ayda was allowed to leave with her belongings in order to avoid a hassle.
Life on the streets was difficult for Ayda as she was smaller and leaner than the other orphans. She needed to use to brains to help her survive rather than her muscles. She also had other traumas that kept her from trusting adults, so she spent her time learning. She was known to have studied other street thieves and figured out which tactics works best. This was a skill she would later help her ‘followers’ to learn.

Her favored style of ‘attack’ was to cause a major disruption and acquire what she needed in the confusion. She eventually gathered a small group of followers that helped her stage these ‘raids’. This led to her earning the street name Eris, which she still uses to this day. She spent five years leading small scale raids around the city to help her and some of the other orphans; She was eventually contacted by a member of Xantam’s Guild and asked if she wanted to join with a real crew. She declined again because she has trust issues with regarding people who were there to ‘help’ her; unfortunately for the member of Xantam’s guild that’s how he phrased it. The guild member was persistent and only left her alone after she stabbed him in the thigh and told him that if he didn’t leave she would ‘aim more towards the middle of him’. He took her meaning and left.
A week later, the guild took her hostage and held her in a cage for a short while. She was held there for just over a day; a day that added scars to her body and mind. It only re-enforced her fear of cages and left her with a crippling fear of Beholders. She would have likely been sold or killed in the foreseeable future; She barely escaped when three adventurers came through and destroyed the guild. It took her a month to heal and recover even with the help of her orphan crime team. This left her with nightmares and physical scars both on her face and hidden from average sight as well.

After her disastrous interactions with Xantam, she feels the need to leave Baldur’s Gate as fast as possible and get as far away as possible. She spends a week down in the port sections of Baldur’s Gate buying a few sailors drinks and asking as many questions as she needs to find a place that is both safe for her kind and very far away. Her investigations lead her to believe that Assur is such a place. She then contacts the Thieves guild to buy the proper papers and documentation that it will take to get her there safely.

Psyche Profile
Ayda is an adventurous spirit with a solid concept self-preservation. She knows that what she does is hurting people, but she doesn’t care. She has a soft spot in her heart for downtrodden and abused only because she knows that it is detestable to be one. She does everything she can to ensure the successes of her enterprises while she is on a criminal activity. She will stalk people, so she can learn everything she needs to know about them, regarding target them, but doesn’t enter a targets home. If her ‘raid’ starts to go wrong she doesn’t have any problems abandoning the attack on the target.
She is exceptionally good with people as she understands what makes people tick because she spends so much time studying them. Her intelligence allows her to assess quite a range of concepts regarding social engineering. She has no qualms about manipulating people into doing things that she needs or wants to happen.
Due to her experiences with Xantam’s Guild she has an extreme dislike of cages, chains, and whips. The concept of prison is something that has become anathema to her; Holding people in cells like animals brings out a quiet rage from within her. If it is in her best interests and not going to get her captured as well she will find a way to get someone in a cage free. If she is ever faced with being caged she will fight with every weapon and option that she has; she would rather be dead than caged again.
Although she is not excessively religious, she still believes that it is not a good idea to piss off the gods. She has an irrational fear of the Gods and as such has a degree of respect for them. Given her personal use of knowledge regarding how her life has worked she dedicates her prayers to Oghma. She has also been known to ask the benediction of other gods if she is going to be spending time in, or doing something that, is more under their purview.

Ayda acculturated to a quick development schedule, unhealthy for that of a Moon Elf, predicated on the longevity of that race, and the slower process by which they are accustomed to developing. The acculturation to a largely human and dogmatic environment has accelerated her growth in some ways, and stunted growth in others. Her personality disorder is supposed upon the inappropriate way she was raised, as counter to the physical and mental conditioning she would receive in a well suited Elven community. Ayda’s pathology is defined by the following characteristics:
  • Obsessive and compulsive in planning and contingency based thinking, predicated on survival planning, to avoid periods of loss of control over one’s self
  • Extreme trust issues w/ an emphasis on outright hostility towards figures of authority
  • Violence as a tool with a dispassionate and distant connection to emotions; up to and including murder for any reason is on the table
  • Manipulative – engages in practices of social engineering to garner what is needed without cause or concern for others
  • Profoundly low self-esteem characterized by loss of control and feelings of disempowerment: manifestations can occur in degradation of her body by using it for profit, regardless of deeply compartmentalized suffering associated with such acts
  • PTSD from persistent threats, as well as new acts committed against her
  • An absolute danger to anyone who crosses her path in a manner that causes her to feel that violence is warranted
  • Extraordinarily disciplined, in control, and plotting
  • Deluded sense of justified goodness driving her actions


Ayda’s approach to survival is driven by control. Ayda’s cooperation with others, such as agents who she uses on self-styled “raids” is controlled with escape plans should any of them turn on her at times that may be interpreted as points of exposure. Additionally, experiences that Ayda has had that have served to only expound upon her pathology, malevolence, and disorders play a significant and ongoing part in lifestyle. Capture and torture at the hands of a thief’s guild in Baldur’s Gate, and unusually horrific tortures at the call of a Beholder and its followers, which used torture to discover her fears and compound them, i.e. imprisonment in cages, tools of sadism, and other instruments have only served to heighten an already springboard loaded with violence and self-serving danger.

Ayda also presents with a mind frame during her attacks that corresponds with her personality as defined:
  • Before: A personal belief that ‘pragmatism’ is what feasibly allows for the actions taken, and that no emotional response is given, though in the deep recesses of her mind is envy at the have’s
  • During: Fear of consequences; vindictive joy
  • After: Happiness, small amount of fear predicated upon second guessing about the success of the job and authorities coming for her


Victim Profile

Ayda has created and stuck with a profile of beings that serve as a definition for the manifestation of ‘evil’ that she feels a need for an outlet against and is ever present against her and other victims like her. It is through actions taken against people fitting the definition of these ‘bad people’ that she expresses her deeply held hatred of those in power and with the influence to harm societies most vulnerable.
Victim Risk Index – Three Axis Model

General Risk:
Ayda targets low risk beings. Ayda targets innocuous beings that exhibit off the radar traits, i.e. accountants, bakers, taxidermists as they introduce more confusion as to selection, and in turn, increase the odds of turning the path colder, quicker. As opposed to prostitutes, drug dealers, and others who work high risk jobs and thus increase visibility and likelihood of response, these people are often less prepared as well to receive attacks in general.

Lifestyle Risk:
Ayda’s victims demonstrate habits that predispose them to clear risk by enjoying the activities, and company that they do. By targeting an individual that is receiving a massage at a parlor and using that time to access the carriage that they arrived in or gain entry to the changing room that was utilized, personal affects can be taken and easily produce a story that the locale had a hand in the heist.

Incidence Risk:
Ayda targets victims when they are the most vulnerable, translating that vulnerability into a reduced amount of exposure to her, and thus a vastly reduced threat portfolio overall. Using situations where the person or persons are inebriated, at a funeral, at an off time thus capitalizing on fatigue, or in an environment where resisting quite literally offers a life-threatening outcome to the victim, are all part of Ayda’s obsessive and compulsive planning to walk away unscathed from encounters.

Victim Analysis
Ayda predominantly targets people of an upper middle socio-economic class. Her beliefs are that beings that fall into this class of affluence, are dangerous, or at least predisposed to being dangerous due to the resources available to them.
Targets are chosen because their wealth allows for them to absorb the loss in a non-catastrophic manner, and she feels it makes them less of a threat. These are justifications, but nonetheless, reasons used for targeting these people. No race or ethnicity is off limits as a target. Additionally, relationship status is a consideration that never goes beyond a casual acquaintance in places of a large population base, and always unknown in a location that is not large, unless departure of that location is shortly after the theft.
Staging is undertaken by her hired agents, to draw attention away from the real crime. The agents do in fact stage crimes as indicated in a precise manner by Ayda, to completely draw attention away from her as she commits the primary crime. Actions taken by the agents working for Ayda are taken in a manner to draw the appropriate amount of low level response, and to not draw a large response that could destroy the entire heist. Staging is also done on an immediate location basis, and is rarely, if ever, done in a manner to make the victim the center of the staging, proper. This is to draw away attention towards the distraction-based efforts.

Modus Operandi
Extensive reconnaissance is utilized to ascertain a fully fleshed out profile of a potential target, to determine times, places, and situations that expose the victim the most, while minimizing the threat to Ayda. Ayda prefers to use confusion, in concert with multiple actors working for her, to achieve her theft. Preferred locations are busy places such as a bazaar, market place, vendor stalls, or other similar public venues that do not increase the threat to her. Part of Ayda’s approach is to also to utilize her gift for social engineering, as a means by which to attain agents to assist in the theft. This serves two purposes for Ayda: 1) additional assistance allows for complicated heists, greater chance of success, and greater rewards; 2) the ability to have a fall guy if capture or worse becomes a possibility. Violence, while avoided in most cases, is a tool that is not turned away from during heists. Ayda sees violence as something that can and likely will draw more attention her way, and thus something to avoid unless it is needed.
__________________________________
Points of note
  • Has an intense fear and hatred of cages, chains, and torture implements
  • Is socially adept and a social engineer
  • Quick to learn and not adverse to sharing knowledge
  • Is highly energetic and easy to get along with
  • Has few issues with violence of a personal or impersonal nature
  • She is scared to paralysis of Beholders
  • She immediately distrusts anyone who uses the phrase “I’m here to help you” or most anything close to that.She has no issues using her femininity to get what she wants








Higher Atlar
Spirit Soaring
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cpthero2
Great Reader

USA
2252 Posts

Posted - 06 Dec 2020 :  05:57:55  Show Profile  Visit cpthero2's Homepage Send cpthero2 a Private Message  Reply with Quote
DECEASED

Doji Makota

Secret Seeker 5

https://a-troubled-economy.obsidianportal.com/characters/doji-makota

Character Bio

Doji was not a well known individual to anyone. A half-Elf with human roots clearly from Wa, but seemingly no known story of his life, or a distinct unwillingness to part with it. His meeting and shared companionship with the others that still live, was very brief. He sought refuge with them, and met his fate with a large rock to the head: unceremonious and tragic.





Higher Atlar
Spirit Soaring
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cpthero2
Great Reader

USA
2252 Posts

Posted - 06 Dec 2020 :  06:09:34  Show Profile  Visit cpthero2's Homepage Send cpthero2 a Private Message  Reply with Quote
DECEASED

Enalda Ruveldrar

Paladin of Lucha 2

A beautiful Aasimar from Halruaa, and sister of Setibyr. Sadly, both Enalda and Setibyr died fighting a dire tiger upon the heights of the Beastlands, on the western slops of the Curna Mountains. They went out as valiantly as they fought, and were profoundly missed.

https://a-troubled-economy.obsidianportal.com/characters/enalda-ruveldrar

Character Bio

Being stared at had become so commonplace for Enalda Ruveldrar that it was strange when not a single head turned as she and her brother, Setibyr, stepped off the boat and into the port of Assur. It was not every day that you saw an aasimar, let alone twins, but this seemed to have no effect on the dock workers. Before she started down the street towards the main market, she lightly ran her fingers over the hilt of her longsword and shifted her pack and shield on her back. Satisfied that she had not forgotten anything, she grabbed the hand of her brother and lead the way, knowing that he would have prefered to skirt the busy area if alone.

Six years ago, he would have charged into the midst and done business at any of the stalls. However, Enalda knew she would have to be the bold one now. Her life had changed the same time that his had, though not in the same ways. Their former home, Lath, had become a prison to Setibyr after his assault, and Enalda had been contantly on the lookout for anyone that would harm her family. Being an aasimar in Lath meant that they were set apart from the others. Others their age had mocked them or avoided them. Adults stole glances at them, and the bar patrons at her mother’s tavern flirted shamelessly, even when she was very young.
At first, she had tried tying her platinum blonde hair back and dressing as plainly as she could to avoid unwanted attention. She soon realized that there as no hiding her angelic heritage as her features, including her crystal blue eyes, showed the truth – that she and her brother were different. Her mother rarely spoke of their father. He was a passing traveler who had spent his one night in Lath with their mother. Nine months later she had had the surprise of her life as she birthed twin aasimars. Enalda assumed the angelic blood must have run on her father’s side as there was not a drop anywhere through her mother’s family.

Either way, it had blessed and cursed them. From the time she could carry a tray, she and Setibyr had worked at their mother’s tavern. Most of the regular patrons had watched them grow up and business was booming. As she had reached her teenage years, she noticed the attitudes of the patrons had changed. Her mother had discussed such womanly things with her and had shown her the teachings of the Goddess Lucha. She had admired her mother’s calm self-sufficient nature and her desire to help those in need. Enalda followed in her mother’s footsteps and became a follower of Lucha as well. It was when she had just turned fourteen that she actually heard the Goddess speak directly to her.

That evening had started like any other. She had been waiting tables and making small talk with the regulars when there was a disturbance by the bar. Setibyr had raised his voice at a one-eyed man who had gotten rather close to their mother. Her brother had been standing between them, protecting their mother when their mother decided to to have the man removed. It wasn’t an uncommon event as it would happen every tenday or so. However, later that night Setibyr had been sent to dispose of some of the night’s refuse and Enalda heard a voice in her head said, “Make haste and shield that which is dear to you.” She had been feeling uneasy since her brother had left. The light of the full moon greeted her as she rushed out into the alleyway, following the link she had always felt with her brother. She did not have to go far when she heard a strangled cry.

Her eyes had no trouble seeing what others had walked past in the dark. Setibyr was pinned face down to the ground, his trousers down to his knees, and a large man was on top of him. Her brother’s arms were twisted behind his back, and the bulk of the man was driving him repeatedly into the ground. A rush of fury and righteousness spread through her, and she grabbed the nearest object – an empty wine bottle that had been discarded in the alleyway. She rose up and charged at the one-eyed man, shattering the bottle over his head. He slumped over and she stood over him, trembling from the sudden rush. She looked at the man and looked at her brother. She longed to make the man pay for what he had been doing, but the sight of her brother sobbing into the dirt stopped her. She gently pulled his pants back up over his bloodied rear and picked him up as carefully as she could. She had always been slightly larger than her brother as she had hit her growth first, and that night she was glad for it.

Once they arrived home, she brought him in the back door of the tavern and laid him on his bed. She tried to go to get their mother, but every time she tried to leave the room, Setibyr would near hysterics. Finally, she settled for calling out to their mother until she could hear her footsteps come upstairs. There was a flurry of activity that followed that included the constable coming to investigate. Much to her surprise, nothing was done. According to the constable, they did not have concrete proof of who the assailant had been so no crime had been committed. Despite her begging, they would not open an investigation and suggested that their mother should not let children go walking at night.

The weeks and months and years that followed were difficult. Setibyr could not shake the events of that night. Enalda felt it deep in her soul every time he would flinch or cry out. He had refused to leave his room for two tenday after the incident and screamed in his sleep every night. She had taken to sleeping in his bed on the bad nights so she could shake him awake and comfort him. Gradually she was able to move back to her own bed, but the room arraingments had changed. Instead of sharing a room with her mother, she moved into Setibyr’s room. Their beds were side by side with just a walking gap in between. She slept lightly and was never any more than an arm’s reach away from her brother. She sensed when his sleep became restless, and it became automatic for her to reach over and touch his arm or his face to bring him out of a night terror.

Directly after the assault, Enalda spoke with her mother about the voice she had heard. She knew in the depths of her heart that Lucha had called to her. She had felt a rush of power while protecting her brother and knew that she would spend the rest of her life trying to make up for the pain he had experienced while she was not with him. She began her training as a paladin, a protector. Any time Setibyr left their home for the first few years, Enalda was with him. Even at home, she kept part of her attention focused on him, never letting him get too far out of her sight. As they matured, he filled out and got stronger and she stepped back a little, letting him test out his new strength, but she was always ready to step in if need be.

It was a mere six years after that incident when Setibyr had brought up to their mother his desire to head to the distant city of Assur. Enalda knew he was doing better than the first few years after his attack, but he was still uneasy out in public. Shortly after the incident, whispers had started going around town about their family, and Setibyr had had a hard time letting the rumors not get to him. He had confided in her that he wanted to get away from their town and start somewhere new. She knew that Lucha had a temple in Assur and recommended heading there. Secretly, she hoped to pray at the temple for her brother’s healing. Setibyr had easily agreed, and three tenday later they had their affairs in order and had said their farewells to their mother before boarding a merchant ship to the new town.

During the trip, the sailors had told them the church of Lucha had posted offers of employment with significant compensation. The twins had a meager savings between them after they had outfitted themselves for the new climate and decided their first stop in the town would be to the church. Enalda was secretly glad that they would need to go to the church for the job offer so she did not need to reveal to her brother her true motive for wanting to visit. It was with some excitement that she guided her brother through the masses and towards the line of aspiring job seekers.

Character Psyche Profile

Enalda values family, the only thing she has constantly had throughout her life. She admires strength. The strength she values is not necessarily violence, but rather the strength of conviction and aiding others. She finds money to be useful as it is necessary for survival, but she is not interested in great wealth. Time and time again she has witnessed great wealth leading to carelessness and selfishness amongst humans.

She is open, but not overly friendly to strangers. Her lack of strong connections with people outside of her family causes her to have trouble forming relationships. Her adolescence had shown her that friendships can quickly be abandoned and humans can be fickle.

She has followed Lucha since a young age, but she only knows what her mother has taught her. She has never been to a temple of Lucha, but feels most connected to her deity at nighttime. On sleepless nights, she would stare out her window at the moon and whisper a prayer to Lucha and dream of seeing cities other than her hometown. She has interest in hearing the gospel of other deities, but is firmly a devout follower of Lucha.

Outwardly, she conveys a desire to explore the world and find more people she can treat as family. While she currently does not have many strong connections, she yearns for a larger group of people to consider her own. Inwardly, she wants to see her brother progress beyond just vengeance and live a life of peace. She would never openly express this to him, but hopes time and patience will bring him to a place where he is not always seeking to pay back any wrongdoings.

She has never had a romantic relationship. Since her brother’s incident, she has had no time for romance between taking care of her brother and assisting her mother. Even if she did have time, the kids she grew up with had grown distant and had no interest. She considers herself heterosexual, and would not outright deny a relationship with the understanding that her family comes first.

She is afraid of losing the only family members she has. She doesn’t know her father, and is afraid of losing the only two stable people in her life. She has never been separated from her brother for any extended period of time. Her trip with her brother is taking her away from her mother, but she is confident that her mother will be able to handle herself and will wait for their return.

She hates being lied to, and loses all trust in someone who lies to her. Rebuilding that trust would take a lot of time, and the subject would have to show true remorse.

She is interested in reading old texts whenever possible. It is difficult with her current situation, but she enjoys reading when material is available.

Her goal is to travel and see as much of the world as she can before returning home.





Higher Atlar
Spirit Soaring
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cpthero2
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Posted - 06 Dec 2020 :  07:04:12  Show Profile  Visit cpthero2's Homepage Send cpthero2 a Private Message  Reply with Quote
[quote]Originally posted by cpthero2

DECEASED

Setibyr Ruveldrar

Paladin of Hoar 4

A stunningly handsome Aasimar of impeccable faith in the Lord of Vengeance. His crystal blue eyes, platinum hair, and crisply mixed blonde/brown wings were both the envy of most, and a reminder of his resilient heritage.

https://a-troubled-economy.obsidianportal.com/characters/setibyr-ruveldrar

Character Bio

30 Alturiak 1352 DR – Year of the Dragon
Under the light of the full moon, the twins Setibyr and Enalda are born to Sinno Ruveldrar, owner of the Orange Knife tavern in Lath. Being a follower of Selune, Sinno was overjoyed that her children were blessed by the Moonmaiden, believing her blessing to be manifest in their apparent angelic heritage. Both twins were born with shimmering platinum-blonde hair and crystal blue eyes so bright, they nearly glowed.
Sinno had worked at the Orange Knife her entire adult life, beginning as a barmaid and saving her earnings until she could buy the business from the former owner who grew too old to continue operating. She was always self-sufficient, and told her self-made story with pride. One late-night rendezvous with a handsome traveler resulted in two beautiful children that she would proudly raise on her own.
The children were raised as hard workers by their loving mother. Though they had many friends in their earlier years, they never had any friend as close as their twin. As their childhood friends slowly grew distant from the twins, whether by circumstance or from not wanting to be seen with the “different kids,” the twins always had each other. They rarely fought and when they did, it never lasted more than a bell or two. The twins always had a special connection to each other, they knew when something was wrong with the other, even if no words were spoken, they would frequently finish each others’ sentences, and were nearly inseperable. When they were old enough, they dilligently aided their mother at the tavern.

16 Flamerule 1366 DR – Year of the Staff
Night of the incident.

**On this fateful moonless night, the twins worked dilligently alongside their mother on what was supposed to be an average working day. Setibyr cleaned tables, Enalda carried orders, and Sinno ran the bar and food preparation.

One particular patron, however, became increasingly aggressive as he imbibed. He had a noticeable scar over his left eye, causing the eye to be cloudy and clearly unable to see from. As he drank, he grew louder, and began making aggressive passes to Sinno. Setibyr had made to intervene, standing up for his mother, but the much-larger man forcefully shoved Setibyr into a nearby table, spilling drinks and knocking over chairs. Sinno visibly fumed. She immediately forced the man out of the bar. Though he was strong enough to toss around a small teenage boy, his drunkenness made him vulnerable to the tougher, sober woman. He yelled outside the tavern, vowing that they would pay for this embarrassment. Sinno and the twins did not think much of it. Raucous drunks had happened before, and chairs were replaceable. They proceeded with their night after cleaning up the mess.

Later that night, Sinno asked Setibyr to take the tavern refuse outside and dispose of it. The moon was not visible and it was very dark outside. The twins had been born with the gift to see in dark places, so this was a task Setibyr was very familiar with. Setibyr took out the trash, going behind the tavern where he was not visible from the road. While sorting out what needed to go where, he was struck on the head from behind. A blunt object hit his head and sent him tumbling to the ground. His vision was blurry and his ears rang, but he could make out the figure standing above him – it was the drunk from before. Setibyr tried to scramble away, but between the head injury and the man’s forceful grip, he was trapped. “Noone stands up to me like that and gets away with it,” the man said. “Especially not some pretty-boy little bitch!” he snarled into Setibyr’s ear. The man turned Setibyr around and forced him flat to the ground. “You stopped me from getting what I wanted from your mother, so now you get to be the one who pays,” the sinister man whispered. The man pinned Setibyr with one arm and yanked his trousers down with the other. Setibyr panicked and tried to scream out, but his mouth filled with dirt as the man pressed him into the ground. Then, a foreign presence entered Setibyr’s body. He cried in pain as this heinous creature ripped his insides. His sight went completely black and his hearing faded, too. He lost all of his senses and went completely numb, unable to do anything. He approached the edge of passing out. “Do not succumb to this disgusting man,” an unknown voice pierced the silence of Setibyr’s mind. “Live, that you may exact your revenge for this abhorrent and unlawful act. Hear my voice, young one, and carry out my will. Do not forget this day. Do not let this deed go unpunished.” At that moment, Setibyr was brought back to his muddled senses by the sound of shattering glass. The man fell limply to the ground next to Setibyr. He struggled to roll over to see Enalda standing there holding the neck of a recently-broken wine bottle.Setibyr looked down between his legs. A small pool of his blood and shame began to form. Surely, there would have been pain if he could feel his legs. Enalda picked him up and rushed him to his room. He became hysterical in his wailing as the realization of what just happened set in. Enalda called out to their mother who rushed into the room and stood aghast of what she witnessed. They notified the constable immediately.

The constable arrived with a priest of Ilmater. The priest tended to Setibyr, to learn of what happened and ease his suffering. He put Setibyr under a sleep spell to temporarily relieve the pain.
Back behind the tavern, the constable found the scene of the crime, but the man had escaped. Over the next day, divination attempts were made to learn the man’s identity, but they were blocked by some sort of obscuring force. The divination was made more difficult by the fact that Setibyr was unable to provide coherent details of the night. They could do naught but to try to help comfort the grieving family.

17 through 20 Flamerule 1366 DR – Year of the Staff
Setibyr lays in his bed for days. He is unable to sleep more than a bell at a time due to recurring night terrors. He is nearly catatonic, constantly reliving the incident in his head. Was there something he could have done differently? Was there a way that this could have been avoided? Did he do something to deserve it?
Setibyr frequently vomited as his mind raced. He could not keep down anything but the smallest amounts of water. The only time he left his bed was to stumble to the privy and stumble back.

21 Flamerule through 27 Marpenoth 1366 DR – Year of the Staff
Setibyr struggles with constant depression. He starts eating minute amounts of food and works his way up to full meals as the months pass. Enalda ends up moving into his room to calm his night terrors, her gentle touch offering the comfort and security that would allow Setibyr to sleep. He came to rely on his sister’s presence more than ever, developing a phobia of being alone.
His thoughts frequently led him to contemplate suicide. As he stared at his reflection in the kitchen knife, the voice from that night would echo in his mind. The thought of revenge and righting the wrong that had been done to him kept him alive. He took it upon himself to research the deity Hoar on his own. His proximity to Halarahh meant he was able to purchase holy texts from traveling merchants and devote himself to study of his newfound faith. Righting wrongs, revenge, eye for an eye…the teachings of Hoar spoke to the broken Aasimar.

28 Marpenoth 1362 DR – Year of the Staff
While studying, Setibyr realizes that he must make many changes to himself. To never be caught off-guard again, and to exact his revenge, he must train mentally and physically. He would never be able to get back at the one-eyed man in his current state. He begins by lifting heavy objects around the tavern in repitition and practicing with wooden weapons on empty ale barrels and glass bottles. Furthermore, in his studies, Setibyr learns he recently missed the Impending Doom holiday and makes an effort to learn the drums that he may partake in his own observation of the holy day.

11 Marpenoth 1367 DR – Year of the Shield
Over the following year, Setibyr performs odd-jobs around Lath for coppers. With the help of his mother, he purchases his first real weapon, a dagger, that he carries to this day. With the aid of a blacksmith, Setibyr has the date “16 Flamerule 1362 DR” engraved on the dagger. That night, Setibyr finds a secluded place on the outskirts of town to perform a drum ceremony for the Impending Doom. It is a great struggle for him to do this without his sister present and it causes him to perform his drumming poorly, but he pushes through. Sweat-soaked from anxiety and with tears running down his cheeks, he swears an oath upon his new dagger that he will have his revenge some day. He felt the blessing of Hoar run through his body briefly, even though he had performed poorly. It was worth the physical and mental stress.

25 Tarsakh 1372 DR – Year of Wild Magic
Years pass and Setibyr has built his body and mind into a fine-tuned machine. The townsfolk openly talk about him and the incident in his presence, further making him uncomfortable in the town. He always stood out for his looks, and now he stood out for reasons he hated to be reminded of. He knew he could not stay much longer. Enalda’s heart broke to see her brother tormented like this.
In the time that had passed, Setibyr had expanded his collection of and training with weapons. He now wielded two larger weapons as well as a pair of javelins, one painted black and one painted white to represent balance. He also had a piece of armor crafted to fit him that was light enough for him to maneuver around in, but still offer some protection.

1 Mirtul 1372 DR – Year of Wild Magic
While setting up for the afternoon customers, Setibyr speaks to Sinno and Enalda in private. He makes his intention to leave town clear to the both of them. This was no surprise to both Sinno and Enalda, and they had both witnessed Setibyr’s resolve and mental anguish over the prior six years. Sinno rifled through her dresser and pulled out a small sack of coins. She knew this day was coming and had saved up for the two of them to travel and seek a place they could call their own, where they could live in peace. Enalda also knew this day would come, as Setibyr had told her many times of his desire to leave and she wished to join him. She made the suggestion to leave for Assur in Durpar, and Setibyr agreed. He could blend in there. Noone would know who he was, what his history was, and he would not stand out in a crowd. Furthermore, Durpar was a land of wealth and opportunity, he could build his strength and obtain better equipment there for his long-awaited day.
Enalda and Setibyr hopped merchant ships from Lath to Halarahh to Assur. The merchants spoke of recent economic turmoils that had luckily not affected them just yet, but they were the exception as many merchants had been hit hard already. They spoke of the church of Lucha offering work to those who would seek out the source of this turmoil and this was agreeable to the twins.

Present day Eleasias 1372 DR – Year of Wild Magic
The twins step foot off the boat and the first thing they notice is the sweltering heat. With the last of Setibyr’s money, he purchases a set of warm weather clothing to prevent his journey from ending early.
The second, and truly best thing he noticed was that noone paid any attention to him. He could finally break the shackles of rumor and hearsay and begin his quest in earnest.

Psyche profile:
  • Setibyr’s main drive is his desire for revenge. He has focused the last six years of his life on getting back at the one-eyed man
  • Setibyr’s second strongest influence is his twin sister Enalda. She is a pillar of strength to Setibyr and he always feels more confidant and safer when she is around
  • Setibyr is strongly devoted to Hoar, who he credits with saving his life, as well as fueling his desire for revenge
  • Setibyr has two phobias. First, he has a phobia of being alone. While being with his sister is preferable, being around strangers is better than being alone and vulnerable. He also experiences anxiety around people with similar injuries as the one-eyed man.
  • Setibyr has only recently overcome screaming in his sleep. While he does still experience night terrors from time to time, they are less frequent than six years ago, and usually just end up with Setibyr covered in cold sweat
  • Setibyr has not planned for what happens after he gets his revenge, but he may be interested in adventuring and carrying out the will of Hoar. A normal, quiet life is likely not an option anymore
  • Setibyr has never been in a romantic relationship, and is currently not mentally capable of one. The few times it has come up, he has been struck with fashbacks and could not bring himself to overcome them
  • Setibyr fears that the wicked man could go unpunished after all this time and effort. He also fears that if something is not done, the man may do the same thing to other people
  • Setibyr values gold as a means to make himself stronger and in turn, have a higher likelihood of completing his goal. He can see the appeal of gold for wealth’s sake, but that is not his primary objective at this time
  • His inner goal is to be free of the mental shackles forced upon him six years ago. He believes that bringing the one-eyed man to justice is the biggest roadblock to achieving this.







Higher Atlar
Spirit Soaring

Edited by - cpthero2 on 06 Dec 2020 09:07:26
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cpthero2
Great Reader

USA
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Posted - 06 Dec 2020 :  07:28:20  Show Profile  Visit cpthero2's Homepage Send cpthero2 a Private Message  Reply with Quote
[quote]Originally posted by cpthero2

DECEASED

Malakai ibn Obaidullah ibn Alnuwayasir

Wizard 4 (Divination)

A simply dressed, unassuming, 5'4" man of only 93lbs., this man was an intellectual dynamo, and true savant of the Art. Sadly, Malakai met a random death caused by a rock smashing through is skull after a series of explosive runes went off, killing him instantly.

https://a-troubled-economy.obsidianportal.com/characters/malakai-ibn-obaidullah-ibn-alnuwayasir

Character Bio

Malakai kept quiet, sensing the emotional stress of his parents. He wasn’t told what was happening, but he had gathered bits and pieces over the past several days. His parents could not afford to keep Malakai. Not if they wanted to maintain their position with the Alqassim Chaka. He was going to be sold off. His mother kept fidgeting over him. Constantly hugging him, kissing him and making sure he looked as presentable as possible.

They approached a building, like any other really. Malakai did not pay close attention. What he did notice was the strange sights and smells upon entering this building. The interior was lighted like the noonday sun, without any discernable sources. People milled about, talking to one another or sitting and waiting. The room smelled of something fresh and living, though there were no plants. Strange, and wonderful pets flittered about. It was an amazing and intimidating sight for young Malakai.

His parents were soon greeted by a man who was just beginning to come into his beard. He briefly spoke to the adults, and gave Malakai a brief smile. This pleased Malakai.
The man then turned and led them through a door, up some stairs and into another sitting room. Here they were bid to wait.
Malakai, ever the inquisitive one, proceeded to explore the room. Marveling at all the strange smelling leather books, the old desk with papers on them and pictures on the walls. Malakai was careful not to disturb anything, for fear of bringing the wrath of his mother or father down upon his head.
Such a place as this, it was bound to solve any worries mother had.
“It will be okay mother dearest. I’m sure the man here will be of great help to us” said Malakai, trying to comfort his mother’s growing unease.
Choking back tears, his mother smiled a warm smile, filled with happiness and sadness at the same time.
“I hope so little Mal. I hope so. If the master here is willing, it will be a great step for you and us.”
Malakai curled up into his mother’s arms, sensing she needed the hug more than he did.

The door opened, and out walked a lovely lady, dressed in silks. Her flowing tresses as dark as midnight reaching her swaying hips, her eyes, lovely almonds that drew in everything seen.
She stopped and gave a brief sign of greeting.
“If you will come with me, we can discuss our futures. Malakai, would you be a dear and keep Fangs company? He may look scary, but I’ll tell you a secret. He loves being scratched behind the ears and playing hide and seek.”
Malakai nods his head vigorously, eyeing the lovely fox Fangs. Fangs comes over and sniffs cautiously at Malakai, then jumps on him and begins licking his face. His parents and the beautiful lady enter the other room to the squeals and laughter coming from Malakai.
Malakai then spent the next hour petting and playing with Fangs. Fangs was amazing, he seemed highly intelligent, cocking his head as though he actually understood Malakai.
“I think my parents are talking to the beautiful lady about me. I think I’m going to be given to a Chaka. Mom and Dad can’t afford me. At least, that is what daddy keeps saying. Mother doesn’t want to sell me. I don’t want to be sold. I don’t want to leave mommy and daddy. I’m scared Fangs.”
Fangs stands up, putting his paws on Malakai’s shoulders and licks his face. Malakai embraces Fangs in a hug as he cries about his predicament.
Soon, the doors open, his mother and father liking upset, sad and happy. It was a confusing look to Malakai. Behind them, came the lovely lady. Fangs rang up to her and took his place beside her.
Kneeling down, his parents bring Malakai into a hug.
“Malakai, this is Lady Moon. She will be taking you on. This is a difficult time for all of us, but you need to be strong for us. Lady Moon was very hesitant to take on such a young boy, but we insisted. You are the smartest, bravest boy we know. So you must be doubly brave for all of us. Make your father proud. Bring honor to our name.”
Malakai started crying, but quickly brought his grief under control. He must remain strong, to show dad that he was worthy of the family name.
“I-I will try to be as strong as you need me to be dad” tears filling Malakai’s eyes.
His parents bring him into one more hug, they slowly detach themselves. They turn and walk away, led by the man who brought them here. As the door closed, he could hear his mother break down and begin crying.

“Well, young Malakai ibn Obaidullah ibn Alnuwayasir. Today is an auspicious day for you. Come with me, we will get you settled,” says the Lady Moon. With that she turns and lead Malakai into another room. There, a girl sits reading books and writing things. She looked to be 10 years older than Malakai.
“Riffat, please see to Alnuwayasir. He is to be taken to the Iqbal for assignment.”
Lady Moon turns and departs, leaving Malakai alone with Riffat. Riffat carefully cleans her pen, sands her paper, turns to face Malakai and sighs.
“Very well Malakai, come with me. Iqbal is the head scribe for the Ziad Chaka. He will start you on your lessons.”
Malakai was led by Riffat through various hallways with enough speed that Malakai found himself half running, half skipping to keep up.
Soon they arrived to the Scribe’s wing. It was a small portion of the building just off the library. As they entered, the smell of a scribe’s work hit Malakai like a wall. Wrinkling his nose to the smell they moved inside and walked up to an older man overlooking a younger man as they worked on a book.
“Now, be easy as getting the leather stretched with just the correct firmness is necessary for a strong cover, but not so firm as to prevent the book from closing properly, and…” he trails off upon noticing Riffat & Malakai.
“Hello Riffat, is this the young ward that has been promised to me?” upon Riffat’s nod, Isqal simply humphed and nodded.
“Very well then, your duty is discharged. You may return to your studies,” as Riffat turned and left, Isqal eyed Malakai.
“It appears you are to be under my care for the foreseeable future, and since that is the case you will need to get familiar with things. Have you been given a place to sleep yet?” Malakai shakes his head no. “No, then? Very well. We shall start with that. Ahmay, continue binding that book as I instructed you. I will be back to check on your progress”
Isqal then turned and made a beckoning gesture as he lead the way back out of the wing. He leads the way upstairs to another wing. There is a large room, filled with bunkbeds. He points one out for Malakai.
“Here will be your assigned sleeping quarters. He indicates an area down the hall, and down there is where you will find your linens and turn in your clothing for washing. You are responsible for washing your bedding and clothing, in addition to your other duties. Are you with me so far?”
Malakai nods his head in response.
“Excellent. Now, come with me.” Isqal leads the way back to the Scribe’s wing, and stars asking questions of Malakai along the way.
“How far along are you with your letters? Not very. None at all? How old are you, never mind all that. Very well, the good news is that you haven’t picked up any bad habits. We shall begin with the basics.”
Malakai is lead to a table, sat down and given a piece of slate and charcoal. He is handed a stone tablet, on it are strange lines.
“You will start by learning how to write each of these letters. This is the espruar alphabet. Once you have learned that alphabet, we will start with others. Please tell me you know your common alphabet,” pleaded Isqal, who let out a heavy, resigned sigh upon seeing Malakai shake his head no once again.
“By Jaradeem’s beard. I do not have time for this. Just sit there, someone will be along shortly to work with you.” He leaves, muttering to himself.
After what seemed a very long time to young Malakai, a boy a few years older than Malakai arrived. He was carrying some scrolls
“I am Zahid and I will be teaching you the common, espruar, dwarven, gnome and halfling languages. Once you have learned how to read the letters, we will begin teaching you how to read in some small manner. Once you are able to grasp simple words, then we can begin working on your calligraphy.”
Malakai spent the next few weeks, learning the selected alphabets. Once he was able to easily recognize each letter. Zahid moved on to teaching him basic words and sentences. This took a few more weeks.
Once Zahid was satisfied, he then brought in some heavy leather for Malakai to practice writing on. His lessons truly began in earnest. Every time he thought he was doing well, Zahid would correct him. Malakai was beginning to detest Zahid for his demands for perfection. This continued until Isqal arrived to check on his progress. Upon seeing the quality of Malakai’s lettering, Isqal berated Zahid for allowing such sloppy work. Malakai was shocked, and more importantly. Scared, for he did not know what would happen to him or his parents if he failed at this task. He began practicing in earnest. Spending every moment he could writing. In the dust in the corner of the room, in the dirt of the road when running errands, every chance that was available to him.
Not only was Malakai learning to read and write, he was still required to perform several other tasks given to him by Isqal or whomever sent for Malakai. Everything from helping prepare a meal, to cleaning up after meals, cleaning his bedding and clothing, cleaning the Scribe’s wing. Malakai was exhausted most days. He was usually up before anyone else, and went to sleep long after everyone else.
Life fell into a rhythm for Malakai. After his initial break in period he managed to get accustomed to the demands placed on him. He had progressed nicely in his duties and was given the important work of writing books for tradesmen. He wasn’t allowed to learn how to bind books or make ink, but he was allowed the honor of writing as his calligraphy was quite spectacular. Being taught several of the languages also helped Malakai in his work.
One fall day, as he was working on his latest project. A book on the principles of math, Isqal approached him. After admiring Malakai’s handwriting, he cleared his throat.
“When you have finished that page, put away your things and come see me.”
Malakai nodded, not wanting to disrupt his concentration.
He arrived in the bookbinding area, waiting for Isqal to notice him.
“Just one moment Malakai,” and he watches over Zihad’s bookbinding efforts, giving guidance as the work progressed. Satisfied, he turned and walked past Malakai. “Come along then.”
He led the way out of the Scribe’s wing and into the library, and to the office where Wafaa worked.
“Okay Malakai. Your new job will be with Wafaa here. Your normal duties have been altered. You will continue to scribe for me four days out of every tenday. Wafaa has you for another four days out of every tenday. The rest of your duties will need to be done in the remaining time you have each tenday.”
Isqal turned and left, leaving Malakai wondering what he had done to deserve such a work load.
“Hello Malakai. I hear you have a good hand at calligraphy, and have increased your reading knowledge to easily understand common, espruar, dwarven, gnome and halfling. Have you picked up any other languages since then?” inquired Wafaa.
“I was able to work on a book written in another tongue, I know it not. I was beginning to understand some of the words, at least I think I was. With nothing to reference and no one to tell me otherwise I can only guess.”
“Interesting, what was the title of the book? We may have a copy here.”
“Thayan politics and policies by Marco Volo”
Quirking an eyebrow at the title Wafaa smiles, “I do believe we have that book in our library. It is written in thayan. Not a terribly difficult language, but it is incredibly precise.”
“No matter, today is your first day. So I will have Ayyn show you your duties.”
In walks another young boy, a few years older than himself. “This is Ayyn. Ayyn, kindly show Malakai the duties I laid out for him. Train him in our organizing methods. His failures will be your failures.”
Ayyn nods and escorts Malakai out, then turns and glares at him. “If you mess up, I will add to your workload. I don’t have time to babysit a young, ignorant indent such as you. The library has 3 levels. The top level is where the most important books are kept. You will not be accessing or handling any of those books. Second level is the obscure, lesser known yet important scrolls and books. The main level is where the more common scrolls and books are kept. Here is where you will be working. Your job will be to dust the books, and search for any signs of bookworms or other forms of infestation. If you find any, you are to notify myself or one of the normal staff. Do not touch any infected books. The infestation could be carried by you, and you would then infect other books.
Here, is how we organize the books on this level. I expect you to memorize it. Now that I’ve wasted enough time holding your hands, I have other, more pressing duties to attend to.”
Ayyn left, and Malakai tried to remember everything he was just told. He made a note to never go into the third floor, second floor is old books and scrolls. Main floor was everything else. With that knowledge, Malakai set to learning the organization method of the library.
With these new changes, Malakai’s life changed for the worse once again. He was late to his duties with Isqal and Wafaa frequently. His other duties were declining in their quality as well. Ayyn in turn, was tasked more and more to oversee his work in the Library, and Zahid in the Scribe’s wing. Each handled the changes differently. While Zahid would try and help guide Malakai towards shortcuts for completing jobs effectively Ayyn would add to Malakai’s work as a form of punishment.
As he began to grow weary of the abuses of Ayyn, thinking of ways to get back to him, he was pulled aside. His mother had come to visit. It had been two years since he had last seen his parents. He was excited to hear that his mother was visiting.
Malakai rushed to the waiting area, anxious to see his parents. As he entered the room, he only saw his mother, and she looked so much older then he remembered. It had only been two years, yet she seemed to have aged several.
“Oh Malakai, look at how you have grown. My little boy is quickly growing into a strong, bright lad.” His mother pulls him in for a long, loving hug.
“My dear, I had to see you one more time. Your father,” she chokes, wiping tears from her suddenly wet eyes, “Your father was killed by bandits. With his death, we lost everything we had worked to build. We were so close to what we wanted. Now, I am afraid I must go into service myself. I do not know if I will get another chance to see you. Just promise me you will remember us. Remember that we love you, and all we have to give, we did. Everything bargained, was for us. I love you Malakai.”
Malakai was confused, crying and terrified for this new unknown that his mother was telling him. Crying, for the loss of his father, terrified for the loss of his family, and confused as to why his mother must go into service himself.
As he spent the next hour with his mother, enjoying what time they had together, he kept thinking about what happened. As he saw his mother off, knowing it would likely be the last time he saw her, Malakai vowed to learn what happened to his family. To discover the cause and see what he could do to restore ibn Alnuwayasir to honor.
The next month was spent in a haze. Between grief for the loss of his father, sorrow for his mother and despair at the loss of his families honor, Malakai just completed his work in a wooden fashion. Though he did not notice it, his work load had lightened up enough to allow him to still work and get his duties completed, yet not so strenuous as to drive him to a breaking point. Even Ayyn was distant.
After Malakai snapped out of his stupor, he realized that if he wanted to find a means to discover what happened to his family and his honor. He would need to learn all he could. He then set about learning everything he could.
This newfound drive was noticed. Wafaa and Isqal made comment about Malakai’s growing knowledge in the library as well as his understanding of languages.
Time passed, as it always does. Malakai had found a new rhythm in his life. One of discovery, he spent every spare moment he had, reading books on history, the families and the Chaka’s. Yet even then, the library had its limits. He was able to learn a lot, but not enough. It was never enough.
One day, as he sat thinking about which area to begin reading about next, Wafaa approached him.
“Hello Malakai, may I join you for a moment?”
“Yes, of course. I was simply thinking about what books I should read next.”
“I wanted to speak to you about that. Your time with us is coming to a close.”
At the look of alarm on Malakai’s face, Wafaa comforted him.
“Hold on, let me finish. Your service with us, specifically the Lady Moon is quickly coming to an end. Yet you have options before you. You have reached the age of apprenticeship. Typically you would be given an option to follow the family trade, or assigned a trade that benefits the family in some fashion. Due to your,” Wafaa pauses for a brief moment, as if to steel herself for the next part, “special circumstances the Lady Moon is willing to offer you an option.” Seeing curiosity arise on Malakai’s face, Wafaa warned him. “Do not be too hasty, what Lady Moon offers is a difficult path. One filled with incredible amounts of study. What you have done here under Isqal and myself is trifling compared to the work she will put you through. It is a hard life, being a mystic. One that is being offered to you by the Lady Moon, she does not require an answer now. Simply think on it. At the end of this tenday, your service with us is at an end. You can choose between working with Isqal, myself or the Lady Moon. We would all enjoy having you learn a trade with us. Know that you have options before you.”
With that, Wafaa leaves Malakai to contemplate his future. So, he has been here, working in service for 4 years. It seemed a lifetime ago when he first arrived. The Lady Moon. Malakai has seen her on occasion during his duties in the library, but never had any interactions with her, since he had started his service with her.
Normally, a decision for his future was decided by his aptitude and attitude by his parents. They would have decided what options best fit for their son to follow. That is no longer the case, yet he is being offered a chance to choose his own future. The life of a scribe is quiet, yet interesting. He would get to read all manner of books, while copying them for their orders. Being a librarian offered him the opportunity to learn from a larger selection of books, but was still limiting. The Lady Moon is a mystic. A wizard. The head of a Chaka. No small feat that.
Malakai spent the next three days contemplating his future. Since he was nearing the end of his service, his duties were very light. He spent a day with Isqal, getting a stronger feel for a scribes life. He spent the next day with Wafaa, to better understand the other duties a librarian had. By the third day, his decision was made.
He walked to Lady Moon’s wing, and waited to speak with her.
“Malakai, have you come to a decision on your future?”
“I have your Ladyship, the honorific stumbling out of Malakai’s mouth, as he was not used to flowery speech.”
She smiled, and waited allowing Malakai to inform her without pulling it from him.
“I like the life that Isqal has offered. The life of a scribe is a nice and simple life, filled with the precision of making inks, the care in binding books, and the artistry in calligraphy. I find it to be to limiting however. My access to new information is limited to what books I am asked to copy. So I cannot become a scribe.”
The Lady Moon gives a slight smile, her eyes lighting up. She indicates a seat at her desk, and pours some tea for Malakai.
“You have given this some serious thought, but don’t let me interrupt you. Please continue.” She sits back in her chair and drinks her tea. Her eyes intent on Malakai.
“Thank you, your Ladyship.” Malakai takes the proffered tea and takes a big drink, giving a slight sputter from the heat of the tea. “Excuse me. I’m afraid I’m a bit nervous.”
“The life Wafaa has offered me, the life of a librarian certainly provides me with access to information. Much of what I know today, I discovered reading the books in the library. Yet for all the lore present, I feel there is so much more to discover. So I cannot in good conscious be a librarian.”
The Lady merely nods as Malakai takes another, smaller sip, from his tea.
“The other option is to continue to families work. Only I do not know what that is. Father was killed doing such, and my mother is in service. Whatever that life is, I cannot start it up. The loss of honor alone would be highly difficult to overcome. While I wish to restore my family name, I do not wish to burden myself with unknowns. I wish to come at it from a different angle. Therefore, I cannot follow my families work.”
Malakai pauses, taking several sips of tea, giving himself to calm his climbing nerves as he approaches the final point.
“That leaves working for you, your Ladyship. Wafaa informed me that you have offered to take me on under your direction. To learn the ways of wizarding. I have heard it said that a wizard can be a formidable person. Capable of many great, and powerful things. This interests me, but only mildly. What interests me, is the things I read about wizards and their ability to discover information. I wish to learn that, specifically. I realize that what I’m asking is likely niave, given my lack of information regarding a wizards actual practices. I am willing to risk that. I feel the rewards far outweigh the risks.”
Malakai finishes the last sentence quickly. Then takes a long and final drink from his tea. Worried he may have offended Lady Moon.
“You really have given this some serious thought. More thought than one typically gives, for a young boy of seven cycles. I am open to taking on an apprentice. Yet my specialty isn’t one you are asking. I can help you to learn that, and indeed, if you show promise I will even bring in others to help teach you. Having a person with your predilection would be incredibly helpful to the Chaka. Yet this apprenticeship would come with a steep cost. Perhaps the cost is more then you are willing to bear. If you choose to apprentice under me, you will leave your family name behind. You will not search out what happened, and you will work for my Chaka. Your honor will be my honor. The Chaka’s honor will be yours. As it has always been, and will be. Those are the conditions of apprenticeship with me. Such a choice is not one to be taken lightly. I will give you until tomorrow to decide. Your duties are light, for your service will be completed end of tenday. I will expect an answer then.”
Malakai nodded, excused himself from Lady Moon’s presence and walked to the inner garden. He seldom came here, but he needed a calming place to think on his future. What he said about becoming a scribe, librarian or taking on his families business was true, yet the cost of apprenticeship to Lady Moon was indeed high. Malakai was counting on using his new knowledge as a wizard to discover the fall of ibn Alnuwayasir. Lady Moon made it very clear that he would be losing that tie. Malakai spent the next several hours in deep contemplation.
The next day, Malakai was still deep in thought. His decision was made, yet he kept trying to find ways he would be able to discover what happened to his family. In the end, when the time approached for him to inform Lady Moon his decision he stepped back from his thoughts on his family.
Lady Moon’s Chaka had been very good to him during his service. He had learned to read and write several languages. He was possibly better educated than most people, and trained in two jobs. His service was a blessing in disguise. Why should he throw it all away in an effort to discover what happened to his family. Lady Moon’s Chaka had become his family. The decision was a painful but necessary one. He went to inform the Lady.
The Lady was walking out of her wing as Malakai was headed there. She glanced at him, barely acknowledging his presence, yet her eyes seemed to light up a little.
“Pardon me, your Ladyship. I have reached a decision regarding my future, if you have time for me.”
“Come with me, you can tell me as I head to my appointment.”
“Yes your Ladyship…”
“You may call me Lady. Ladyship is far too formal.”
“Uhm, yes. Certainly your Ladys, Lady. After much consideration, I have decided to forgo my family name and honor, and join your Chaka.” Malakai felt quite proud of himself for coming to a decision.
“Oh, the position isn’t a given. You will have to earn that right to join the Chaka and to be my apprentice. You are not yet capable of carrying that title and I don’t have time to train you on the basics.”
Malakai felt crushed. He thought he had a chance at a new life, and Lady Moon was telling him that what he thought was wrong.
“No, you will need to be enrolled into a basic school of magic, to get some training under you. Once you have learned the basics, then we can determine if you can join under me as an apprentice with my Chaka.”
A weight seemed to lift off Malakai. It wasn’t exactly what he was originally thinking, but it was an option.
“Thank you Lady Moon, thank you. I won’t let you down. I shall become the best student at this school.”
She smiled her knowing smile and kept walking. “See to Wafaa, she will help you get to your classes.”
“Yes Lady!” Malakai practically bounced, skipped and ran to the library. So happy was he for this chance to prove himself worthy of Chaka Moon.

“Wafaa! Wafaa! Lady Moon has told me that I need to speak with you. I am to be trained in the wizardly arts, and if I do well enough I can become her apprentice under Chaka Moon.” Malakai beamed, his cheeks rosy from his excitement.
Stifling a laugh, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “That is wonderful to hear Malakai. It may take a while, can you help Ayyn with his project while I get things started for you?”
“Of course!” Malakai quickly walks to Ayyn’s area. Offering to help. His mood so high, even Ayyn’s normally dour spirits couldn’t possibly dampen them.

Malakai discovered that life as an apprentice was considerably different than life in service. The demands placed upon him were much higher. His teacher, a wrinkled old lady with equal amounts of hair in her eyebrows as her chin, constantly berated him for his sloppy handwriting, his inability to grasp precise nuance in language, or worse, his inability to memorize whole chapters of incredibly dull and boring books.
Mage Layan was a harsh teacher. One that Malakai dreaded from the moment he awakened each day, to his last thoughts as he fell to sleep, exhausted. Tendays turned to months and after 4 year under her tutelage Malakai found himself beginning to master everything that was expected of him. His penmanship improved so much, he doubted even Isqal could match his calligraphy. His ability to memorize whole books, not just chapters, would surely impress Wafaa. His ability to properly articulate all the languages he knew, with the appropriate dialects was equally impressive. Malakai was beginning to think that life as a wizard must not be that difficult.
Then, he was moved to a new teacher. This was Mage Finufaranell, a elven practitioner. His specialty was divination. Malakai was not certain what that meant, but was eager to find out. His mind had been honed by Mage Layan. Surely he was prepared for what Mage Finufaranell had to teach.
Mage Finufaranell started the class with memorizing aspects of magic. The basic formulae from which all magical understanding and utilization came from, and it was with excitement that the class took to learning all these forms and sigils.
After spending weeks learning about and memorizing the basic forms, the class began to grow bored. We wanted to learn more, but the nuggets of information were buried deep in what was taught. It was only because of Malakai’s desire to absorb every detail that he began to understand that what was being taught was simply a primer for the actual lessons for the practicing of magic.
Upon completion of the basics, we moved on to the study of the categories of magic, or schools.
Months spent with each school, exploring the bounds offered by the magic, the weave and its interactions. Understanding began to blossom. Enchantment, Lady Moon’s specialty, was not a class that interested Malakai, and he found himself struggling in it. Manipulating people on that level, while something he could understand, wasn’t something he felt particularly okay with. He could understand using whatever contrivances were at hand to get people to do what you wanted, but using magic felt too strong armed. Like you were forcing the person to do what you wanted, regardless of their desires.
Mage Finufaranell noticed Malakai’s lack of interest in enchantment. He took him aside and explained that while Malakai may not like the school and its applications. He would need to understand its function and effects to better prepare for or counter it should he come across a person under the effects or one who is using that form of magic. This made sense to Malakai, and he spent more time studying enchantment then he did any other school of magic, save for divination itself.
After another 4 years, Malakai was a young man. Well past the time when men his age were established in their trades. Yet Malakai was still a student. Not even an apprentice. He was top of his class, incredibly gifted in his grasp of the arcane. Yet for all that, he felt he would never move beyond student.
As he sat, preparing for another day of classes, tired of the academic grind, but hoping he will be able to trick Mage Finufaranell into divulging another nugget of information he saw Lady Moon walking his way with Mage Finufaranell beside her.
Malakai sat up straight, not wanting to project a poor image. Lady Moon and Mage Finufaranell stopped in front of Malakai.
“As you can see, Lady Moon, he has grown into a wonderful young man. His ability is something you should feel proud of. It is uncommon for a student who is so, talented, to grace our classes” explained Finufaranell.
She nods absently at Finufaranell’s explanation, her eyes weighing Malakai. He felt like he was sitting before a magistrate that was eyeing his every decision and action in his past to determine if he was fit for a life with honor.
“Malakai, today I take you on as my apprentice. Run and gather your things then meet me in the courtyard,” she turns and walks away leaving a surprised Malakai to gape before coming to his senses and running to his room to quickly bundle up his belongings.
Malakai comes running into the courtyard, carrying a sack full of his spare clothes, his prized pen and most importantly, his spellbook. He had worked long and hard on the book. While it would not pass Isqal’s approval for the quality of its bindings, Malakai’s was second best in the class. The first being student Aria, who came from a family of scribes.
Lady Moon was sitting in a palanquin with a silk pulled aside, waiting for Malakai. Upon seeing him arrive, she closed the silks. The palanquin was lifted by her porters and they began leaving. Malakai fell in beside Lady Moon’s palanquin and walked without talking. Uncertain yet excited for this next stage in his life.

Life as Lady Moon’s apprentice was much different from what he anticipated. He was used to find small things for the household, or discover information about some people Lady Moon had business dealings with. On some occasions he would be sent to perform a spell or two for a client. These were fun moments as Malakai was able to practice his other schools. He enjoyed divination. No, he loved it. Twisting the fabrics of magic to discover hidden truths and secrets filled him with a sense of power. Yet for all that, using the other schools of magic felt amazing as well. Malakai loved being an apprentice.
Then, the notice was made. Trade was stopped, and the economy was going to suffer. A call was made. Lady Moon heeded that call, and sent some of her people to work towards discovering how to fix this interruption of trade.
Malakai was sent as well. It was his first big job. To leave the care and guidance of Lady Moon, to earn honor for her Chaka and if all works out, to find the cause of the interruption of trade.
The work was varied, which kept Malakai interested, but after a while he discovered people were constantly searching the same things, over and over again. It got monotonous. They would not even listen to Malakai. So he just nodded and accepted their coin. Any and all coin ultimately must benefit Lady Moon’s Chaka, and Malakai would feel remiss if he did not capitalize on an opportunity to earn the Lady her due.

Psyche Profile

Malakai is a highly intelligent person. He is overly confident in his intellect, having overheard several of his teachers discussing his ability to grasp and learn the material so readily. While he is highly intelligent, he is also naive. His life has always been sheltered in some manner. Raised by his parents until 4, then sold into indentured servitude for three years to pay off debts his parents owe. Yet for the life he has lived, it was a blessed life. His service was not overly taxing and was actually educational. Looking back, one gets the impression that he was being groomed for his life as a wizard.

Malakai has made a pledge to not search for what happened to his parents. He will honor that, but if he is able to find information without compromising his role, he will. He will not actively pursue it, he may send out feelers to try and gather more information on them.

While Malakai is a strong-willed person, he is also completely inept with his social graces. He has the sense to know if a person is lying or misleading, but his ability to speak with the fluid grace of the merchants has always eluded him.
In combat, Malakai will try to limit, hamper or stop his opposition. He has some small means to inflict harm, but prefers to leave that to others who are better trained for that sort of thing.

Malakai loves learning about whatever subject matter is on his mind. Research, discovery is first and foremost with him.

Key factors of Malakai’s personality

  • Neutral Good. Really rather selfish. More Neutral than Neutral Good, but overall will err on the side of ‘right’ or ‘good’ then evil. I hold no strong ties to Law or Chaos.
  • Generally, a happy, easy going person. If he has books, or examples of calligraphy/penmanship/book bindings, he will enjoy the craftsmanship that has gone into it. Less carefree and happy, but ultimately still a happy person.
  • A mixture of logic and emotions. He can still be obstinate.
  • Doesn’t like being corrected, but will yield if the situation calls for it. Waiting to lord it over the faulty party.
  • Driven by his desire to earn honor for Lady Moon’s Chaka. That desire has altered slightly. He will not input his opinions and beliefs in the hopes to sway Lady Moon’s decision. He will not refute her decisions, or fight against them in any way. Simply wishing to have his say, whether that sways her decision or not will not impact Malakai’s duty to her or her Chaka.
  • Has a desire to learn about his family, but takes caution on that search so it can never interfere with Lady Moon and her Chaka
  • Developing a loyalty to the people he is with. Primarily a survival mechanism at this time.








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cpthero2
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DECEASED

Rakor Blakthorn

Monk 4 / Cleric of Ilmater 2 / Martyr of Ilmater 2

Rakor was near an immortal representation of perfection among Half-Orcs. An astounding physical display was only a call away, and always available for the most comforting words as a champion of the Broken God. At 6'2'", and 187 lbs., with a pulled back braid of black hair, streaking with gray, and very dark brown eyes. He was a model of humility, compassion, with a sanctity for life that made him the champion of compassion that he was. He gave his life in the service of the Broken God.

https://a-troubled-economy.obsidianportal.com/characters/rakor-blakthorn

Character Bio

Rakor was born in the Rauvinheart Caverns in the mountains of the same name. Home for many of the Tornskull clan. Though he was the eldest, was cast aside as he was born weaker then most. Half bloods weren’t looked upon kindly. His upbringing was anything but fair, often shunned for the fact he was a halfblood. Many of his youthful years were spent learning to defend himself from the cruelty of the entire tribe’s hand, his father not being anymore forgiving then the next. He was raised to do battle, like many of his kin. Thusly, he had earned himself quite the array of battle scars, seeming to often times be the target of any war-games that ensued.

The only reprieve Rakor ever saw was by the night sky. When the tribe would rest, we would lie awake, staring to the sky, dreaming of a more civilized life. He had heard tale of the Kingdom of Many Arrows, the only place where orcs had built and actual nation, and longer to venture there. His days in the tribe grew longer as he grew more and more discontent with his life there. Eventually, he decided to leave the clan, doing so in the middle of the night, while they all slept. His intention, to expand his knowledge and find a better way to live. At the young age of sixteen, he began a life changing journey. He knew the orcs of Many Arrows had established trade with other races, so that was his first goal. Likely the orcs there could teach him other language. He spent his days journeying to said city, naturally, with some difficulty. He knew without knowing much of the world, or much of the language even, he would have to find people willing to work with him. He traveled through Sundabar and Silverymoon as quickly as possible, full intention on making it to Many Arrows, where he would be more easily welcome, or at least comfortable. Once finally there, it was beyond his expectations. Used to the tents and shambled walls of his nomadic life, Many Arrows was a vast improvement.

Rakor spent many years (10) at Many Arrows, once mastering the understanding of common, he focused on the nuances of trade, specifically with the dwarves of the Mithral hall. He worked as a grunt, moving heavy crates of various trade, learning by observation and intercting with anyone who gave him the time. Many of the dwarves he met has also been through the Underdark, and had tales of the deep that intertained his orcish blood without the need of combat. He gained respect for the dwarves of the deep, as many of him and fought much grander foe then he had. Eventually, they took respected him enough that they spent any free night they could drinking at one of the local taverns, exchanging tales of their respective cultures. In this, He learned much of their language, as they did of his.

Through trade, he learned of Waukeen, goddess of trade. Rakor was intelligent, even among other races standards. As such, the ways of Waukeen made perfect sense to him. He spent his free time learning as much as he could of Waukeen, but as this was an orcish society, he soon learned this would take a more wordly travel, spefically to the land of trade itself, the Shining South. Knowing his journey would be hard without a fair amount of coin, he took the jobs he could get, with intention on making the long journey to the Shining South, where he could truly master trade and make something for himself. He worked as a deckhand, using his orcish vitality as best as he could. He would work to ensure passage to the next destination, then visit the local churches or wizarding schools to teach anyone who would pay on the nuances of orcish society and trade in the north. Any temple of Waukeen that would allow his presence, he would enter and learn what he could.

Athkatla, the City of Coin, was one of his most memorable stops. Being a major pilgrimage site fore Waukeen, he spent slightly longer then a decade here. (11 years) This allowed him to not only learn much about Waukeen, but by being so absorbed by the ways of the world, he went from being a brutish, poorly educated orc, to a more refined member of society. Now, an aging orc at the age of 40, he decided to finally finish his journey and make it the land of the Shining South.

This final journey took him many months, and to many locations, but eventually, he found himself in the Shining South. By the time he had made it, over half his years had gone by, but he had acquired a fair amount of knowledge and coin. When he arrived at the local temple of Waukeen, they were hesitant at first of his heritage, but when he spoke, his knowledge outweighed his blood. As the church was currently attempting to work with many nomads and in the mountains, they saw his grizzled appearance the perfect guise to approach the people with a face they make more willingly trust. They tasked him with convincing the tribes to accept Waukeen and begin to civilize otherwise savage lands.

Now, an aging man, Rakor seeks to enlighten the many, often misunderstood, nomads and savages of the world…

Non-combative
Diplomatic and reasonable
Likes to know the whole story before deciding who to side with
More likely to help those in need over those in power

___________________
Travel Path for Rakor to the Shining South

Region: Silver Marches
-From Dead Orc Pass to Sundabar by river travel and/or overland: 80 miles
-Sundabar to Silverymoon by major trade route: 96 miles
-Silverymoon to Many Arrows?
-Ages 16 through 26 were spent in Many Arrows. Here he learned as much of trade and economy as he could. Also spent time learning common and dwarven here, as they were available fairly easily, working as a labor hand. Saved all coin earned to help fund his later travels.
-Many Arrows to Everlund by major trade route:
-Everlund to Yartar by major trade route: 213 miles
-Yartar to Triboar by major trade route: 49 miles
-Triboar to Westbridge by major trade route: 80 miles
-Westbridge to Red Larch by major trade route: 49 miles
-Red Larch to Amphail by major trade route: 61 miles
-Amphail to Waterdeep by major trade route: 77 miles

Total overland travel from Dead Orc Pass to Waterdeep: 760 miles
At an overland rate of 16 miles a day, without any rests or holdovers, you are looking at 48 days.
*Note: this is NOT easy travel as the region has several competing elements which tend to be on edge and ready for territorial disputes, i.e. Uthgardt tribes, Orc tribes, human settlements, Elves, Dwarves, and monsters
-Age 29 at the end of this journey. He faced many hardships from racism to dealing with various orc and barbarian tribes in the region, causing an otherwise short journey to take years. Most of the journey done on foot.

Region: Sword Coast to Southern Coast
-Waterdeep to Baldur’s Gate: 586 (674 nautical) miles
-Baldur’s Gate to Candlekeep: 226 (260 nautical) miles
-Candlekeep to Athkatla: 184 (211 nautical)
-Ages 29-39 spent here in the City of Coin learning all he could about the Goddess of Trade, Waukeen. This was a main pilgrimage site for her followers, as such, he stayed for a prolonged time.
-Athkatla to Murann: 153 (175 nautical) miles
-Murann to Velen: 224 (257 nautical) miles
-Velent to Zazesspur: 420 (483 nautical) miles
-Zazesspur to Memnon: 212 (243 nautical) miles
-Memnon to Calimport: 366 (421 nautical) miles
-Calimport to Ithmong: 852 (980 nautical) miles
-Ithmong to Sammaresh: 243 (279 nautical) miles
-Sammaresh to Tashluta: 327 (376 nautical) miles
-Tashluta to Narubel: 295 (339 nautical) miles
-Narubel to Port Castleghar: 338 (388 nautical) miles
-Port Castleghar to Port Beluarian: 384 (441 nautical) miles
-Port Beluarian to Samargol: 959 (1,103 nautical) miles
-Samargol to Aztul (through Thingulph Bay and hitting all ports): 685 (788 nautical) miles
-Aztul to Mhairhetel: 481 (553 nautical) miles
-Mhairhetel to Halarahh: 625 (719 nautical) miles
-Halarahh to Guilmarl: 883 (1,016 nautical) miles
-Guilmarl to Cathyr: 735 (845 nautical) miles
-Cathyr to Beluir: 509 (585 nautical) miles
-Beluir to Klionna: 524 (603 nautical) miles
-Klionna to Kolapur: 424 (487 nautical) miles
-Kolapur to Tannath: 522 (600 nautical) miles
-Tannath to Des: 88 (101 nautical) miles
-Des to Zelpir: 149 (171 nautical) miles
-Zelpir to Pyratar: 69 (79 nautical) miles
-Pyratar to Durgach: 21 (24 nautical) miles
-Durgach to Gust: 91 (108 nautical) miles
-Gust to Ormpe: 45 (51 nautical) miles
-Ormpe to Assur: 80 (92 nautical) miles

Total oceanic travel: 13,452 nautical miles
Travel is on average at a rate on the coastlines of (48) nautical miles a day
*Normative travel rate #8776; 280.25 days.
*Calculated down time due to repairs, weather, loading/unloading, passenger transfers, and misc. happenings #8776; 90 days
**Real travel time #8776; 370.25 days
-Age 41 by the time he reaches the Shining South
-Many locations he would spend a small amount of time learning the local trade and religion. This ranged from a couple weeks to a month, hence the journey taking a large amount of his life.
Grand Total Travel Time #8776; 418 days at #8776; 14,211.5 miles
1 year, 1 month, 23 days



Higher Atlar
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cpthero2
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Posted - 06 Dec 2020 :  08:03:46  Show Profile  Visit cpthero2's Homepage Send cpthero2 a Private Message  Reply with Quote
DECEASED

Weshtek

Magus 7

A slight, 5'0", 97lb. native of Chult, had dark ebony skin, with dark brown eyes. Weshtek was extraordinarily intelligent, but when coupled with this background, and some of his mannerisms, he struggled with integration anywhere, apart of those who already largely walked outside of society. A devout follower of Ubtao, he was often discredited as nothing more than a savage from the jungle lands.

https://a-troubled-economy.obsidianportal.com/characters/weshtek-of-chult

Character Bio

I was not born a slave. I was not sold into slavery. I was not captured and made a slave. I am not a slave. I come from a simple life. You would call my life one of savagery and uncivilized behavior. The life of a tribesman, traveling as the mighty Ubtao wills. My life was different, yes, but uncivilized. I do not agree with that.
Our life is simply different from yours. Our culture, our food and our appearance are all foreign to you. Just as your appearance, food and customs are foreign to me. You rely on so much iron. Iron is a blessing from Ubtao, or a thing to be traded for from the Aibu.

No. I assure you, I am no slave. I was not brought to your lands against my will. Point of fact, I sought out your lands, your customs, your strange ways.
In my land, very few can practice the arts arcane. I was blessed with the gift, but cursed with a young Shaman. My choices were few. I did not run, as you might imagine. No. I tried to fit in. Find a place with my tribe. For years, I toiled. Hunting, foraging, building, yet for all my efforts I found myself watching the Shaman perform his rituals. His grasp of the arcane was mesmerizing. I could no more stop myself then a fish could fly. Still, I fought my urges. I grew unhappy. Kwosi noticed my moods. He took me aside, and asked many questions of me. I fought him. Not violently, but in speech, and by my attitude. I did not want to be seen as ungrateful for the life my family has given me, for the generosity of my tribe. For all of that, Kwosi knew that I would never fit in.
So, one day in early summer as the tribe moved north, Kwosi approached me. He presented me with a special bag of rare jaguar hide. Inside were some simple tools, and some simple jewelry. He told me to travel north, I would find a large place, built to house many Aibu. The Aibu hungered for our jewelry. With what he gave me, I should be able to trade for travel beyond the seas. Once in the strange lands, I should be able to find my calling.

I was excited, nervous and scared. I do not know if the Aibu will understand me. Worse, the stories I recall from my childhood lept into my thoughts, distorting my excitement and filling me with fear. I took the bag, worried I was betraying my tribe, yet they all came to send me off. They knew. We all knew that I could not stay and keep the harmony. Eventually, my calling would bring ruin upon myself or even our tribe. Their blessing still warms my heart. I think of them often during times of loneliness. I walked away, but not far. I stayed long enough to see my tribe continue their path. I did not leave for 2 days. I simply waited. Not sure if I was doing the right thing. That night, Ubtao made it clear that if I did not leave, I was to feed his creatures. I waited no more.

Travel north was easy. Finding old paths Aibu had made is like following a river by the world snake, wide and so easy a blind mole could follow it.

I come upon the Aibu village. A large village, that looks like no village I have ever seen. So many huts, made of wood and stone. So many people, covered in strange things. The skin, so pale, like a grub worm. I see some of the tamed dwarves, dressed in constricting clothing. They move with a strength of purpose, not the war-like movements I have witnessed before. I observe the village for 3 days. I tell myself it is so I can understand these men, but in truth it was fear that held me. Fear of the unknown, fear of the Aibu. It took 3 days before I could build up the courage to enter the village.
I walked up, and am greeted by curiosity and humor. The Aibu make rude gestures and spit in my direction. I do not know if this is an insult or their custom, but I feel enraged. I try to hide it, but am unable to. The men attack me and I fight back. I was outnumbered, yet I fought as best I could. I did not wish to kill, only to harm. I was quick, and that speed may have saved me the day. I managed to knock the wind out of one man, and trip another. As I turned to face the other, I was wrapped in his arms and we fell to the ground. I started squirming as his fists pummeled me. I was in a bad position and was struggling to find a way out when there was a loud shouting. White men in ritual clothing approached. They called off the men. I could not understand what they said. I wanted to believe I was to be treated fairly, but still the fears clung to me. As one man, the lead hunter, talked at me, I simply stared at him, not comprehending what he asked. He called to another hunter, who approached. His language was very coarse, a combination of eastern and northern tribes, but understandable. I gave my name Weshtek. I explained why I was here. I glanced and saw my bag had been spilled. Much of the jewelry was gone.

I was angered. Who would take from another? I asked the hunter. I had jewelry to trade, for I wanted to travel north, into the world of the Aibu. The hunter had me gather my things, and had me follow them. Me on foot, and them on the beasts they ride. I was provided a cozy room in a hut. I was given some food and water. The water smelled stale, and the food was nothing I was familiar with. I did not eat or drink that night, even knowing that I would likely upset my hosts.

The next day, the hunter comes to get me. He has others with him, and they all speak excitedly. I look to Jon, as he introduced himself. Jon told me that they found my jewelry and handed me most of it. I was happy to get it back, even if it wasn’t all of it. Jon informed me it would be more than enough to get me passage north to the land of no trees. It cost me only a few pieces of jewelry, but I was able to travel by raft over the large waters. Never before had I seen such abundance of water. I was told not to drink it, but I could not contain my curiosity. I had to try it. Such beautiful water, the color of the sky, so I quietly walked out and lowered a bowl to fill with the waters. I tasted the water, only to find it bitter. It left me thirsty for water. What manner of water is this? I now understood what the man meant, by telling me to not drink of the waters.

Travel over the blue waters was peaceful but dull. I am not one to sit idly by, always must there be something to do. This life these Aibu live, such a wanton excess of idle time. I do not know how well I will adapt to such a lifestyle. The raft tribe appreciates me. They teach me things, and I work with them to help ease the time. I spent much time mending their rope, clothes or sails. Many days pass, and the air begins to grow warmer, the days hot and dry. I find my skin becoming pained to the touch. I start avoiding the sun, because it will burn me. Indeed, it already has, but not so badly as to make me sick.

Several days later, we arrive at the land of no trees. Hunter Jon was not exaggerating. It is a land of brilliant sun, amazing stone huts full of color, and bright, bright sun. The land is covered in coarse dirt. I am told it is called sand. It is amazing. My arrival is as you could expect, filled with strange sights, weird smells and strange customs. I have some difficulty finding someone who can speak to me, but eventually I do find someone. This person is kind enough to guide me towards a special, colorful hut. Inside I am taken and I await. Enter Haidar. He is a handsome man, dressed in flowing garmets, and one hanging about his head. He speaks my language. I am at a school that teaches the arcane. The cost is high, and it takes all but a few of my remaining jewelry pieces to pay for my time here. To this day, I will always feel like I got my schooling for far cheaper a price, had they only known how desperately I wanted to learn.

Over the next few years, I learned to speak the local dialect, as well as the tongue used by most everyone. I learned to dress as they dressed, and eat as they eat. More importantly, I learned the arts arcane. With my training complete, I did not know what to do. I could not return home, Kwosi is still young and strong. My tribe would not accept another user of the arcane. So, I hired onto a caravan. I wished to see more of this world, and a caravan was certainly one way to do this. I traveled from Calimport to Manshaka, from Manshaka to a small village outside the Spider Swamp. My contract completed, I figured I would continue on the path I started and left. Walking East, through the spider swamp. It was to be an important lesson for me. One I had forgotten in my time at the school for wizards. Traveling alone in a land you know nothing about is dangerous. While I was very comfortable in my home forests, the land, trees and beasts were nothing like back home.

It is the luck of my ignorance, that I was saved by a patrol. The spiders were almost done wrapping me up.

Once I was feeling better and released on my own, I continued my journey. Taking extra caution as I progressed. At each city, I would hire on as a caravan wizard. My pay was considered cheap, and I even angered other practitioners of the arts. I asked only for food on the journey, and food at the end, to see me through several days. Some small coin to help buy incidentals. It wasn’t until I was in Kormul that I learned how I was underselling my services, and making my fellow arcane casters look bad. So, I adjusted my fare. I discovered it was a little more difficult finding caravans once I increased my wages, but with all this extra gold I was making I was able to wait out the time between caravans with ease.

And so, that brings me to the present. I have traveled across much of the land. I am so very many leagues away from my home now. The land and it’s people as different to me, as I am to them. Chaos reigns in this part of the world, and from that chaos, ripples spread outward. My caravan was attacked and destroyed by amorpheous blobs. Chaos beings I think they are called? I do not know. They do not conform to anything I am familiar with. Considering how much I have seen, and rarely is there anything seen more than twice I would not call my judgement the best in these matters.
The weather is so cold. So very, very cold. I use what knowledge I have to survive out here, but the trees are so very different from the ones back home. I have read about all the trees and fauna, yet for all that I find myself constantly referencing my upbringing in the jungles of Chult.






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cpthero2
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Posted - 06 Dec 2020 :  09:19:04  Show Profile  Visit cpthero2's Homepage Send cpthero2 a Private Message  Reply with Quote
MISSING IN ACTION

Sahil

An orphan on the streets of Ormpe, Durpar, this child would become one of those devout and amazing followers of Ilmater ever. At 5'4", 117 lbs., with dark brown skin and green eyes, this (17) year old was a giant before his time. Sadly, his fate is unknown. On an unknown date, Sahil was whisked away by seemingly ancient, powerful magics, and in his place stood a Healer and a roguish looking Half-Elf. He is sorely missed, and sought after by his friends, who are like family to him.

Shaman 18

https://a-troubled-economy.obsidianportal.com/characters/sahil

Character Bio

From the travelogue Shaar and Beyond by Loducius the Laughing, in the chapter entitled “The Holy Orphan of the Ormpe Trash Pickers.”

“My principal reason for visiting the mining town of Ormpe was to catch a glimpse of the famed Curna emeralds. These gems – harvested from the nearby mountains by the wealthy dwarves of the Gemstone chaka and cut in Ormpe by the town’s sizable population of gnomish gemcutters – were found nowhere else and I was eager to see them. However , it was not the gems, regardless of how exquisite I indeed found them to be, that most occupies my memory of that town; rather, it was the sprawling squalor of ramshackle homes that festered outside the city walls, and within that dilapidated slum, the singular child I met during my sojourn.

“Here, in what had come to be called The Quarter of No Hope, I experienced poverty unlike any I had witnessed in this most prosperous nation. Here, I was greeted by a sullen, taciturn people, far different than the warm and curious folk I had met elsewhere in this tolerant and hospitable land. This was a community broken by poverty. That I should find such desperation in a town whose singular wealth had catapulted the leader of the Gemstone chaka into the nation’s High Council posed a mystery I was particularly motivated to solve. My initial inquiries, however, yielded few results. Few among the downtrodden residents proved willing to communicate with an outsider such as I.

“Nonetheless, I was able to assemble at least a general explanation of the poverty I encountered here: The economic boom that had been precipitated by the Curna emeralds has attracted laborers from across the Shining Lands and beyond. Few of these arrivals, however, found profitable work. It was rumored that the mining jobs that these migrants, largely of human stock, had come to claim were instead granted only to dwarves. Gem cutting also was granted largely to the town’s gnomish minority. Consequently, the humans who had sold their worldly wealth to migrate here found few opportunities for gainful employment, and so ended up among the town’s most desperate.

“With this knowledge, at least, the mystery of the unexpected poverty I encountered in this town was solved, but another mystery, far more intriguing, arose during my search, especially during my inquiries among the younger residents of the Quarter. Time and again, they, in their own broken dialect of the common tongue, referred me to a certain Sahil, an individual to whom they attributed various wonders and no small amount of wisdom.

“It seemed that the rapid growth in wealth among the city’s more privileged residents had given rise to a sprawling dumping grounds outside the city walls, near the Quarter of No Hope, in which the region’s newly rich had dumped many of their old, worn possessions in deference to their newly acquired luxuries. And here, children, many of them orphans either in fact or in practice, picked among the discarded possessions of the newly prosperous, hoping to find something that still retained enough value to trade for food.

“Among these child trash pickers, this Sahil individual had attained the status of something like a holy man. Or so I assumed him a man, until I fully parsed the Durpari phrase by which they referred to him: Roughly translated, he was child saint, or more literally, holy older brother not yet reached adulthood.

“In the end, I did not find this Sahil. Sahil, rather, found me.

“It was on my third day of inquiry regarding this holy child that a single songbird alighted upon my path. Many such birds I had witnessed flitting among the refuse of the Quarter, but this particular specimen possessed feathers of purest white and glowed with a vibrant health to rival his ragged kin. And when this unusual creature furthermore spoke a single word in the common tongue, I could not refuse.

“‘Follow,’ it trilled, before it took wing. I followed. How could I not?

“The bird, I later learned, was named Pak-Pak, a common name for such avian pets among the Durpari. But this particular Pak-Pak I followed with an inspired zeal, as he flew through narrow alleyways, one after another, until he returned to find his home in a tiny birdhouse of thin, patinated copper. This tiny birdhouse was lashed to a frayed rope belt, and that belt was tied about the waist of a boy who had seemingly not yet reached his fourteenth year.

“His eyes, however, seemed decades older. He sat upon a half-broken chair of carved rosewood, an object that might have fetched a few coin in mint condition, but now, compared to the ascendant wealth of whatever dwarven emerald miner once owned the thing, was rendered nearly worthless by comparison.

“This child on a broken throne, this was Sahil, I knew it.

“His robes were tattered, dirty, and beneath them, I noticed something like armor, made of scraps of leather sewn together by tiny hands, and reinforced with cheap copper coins affixed with needle and cords of sinew. More curious, however, was the mace that he wielded like a scepter. This iron thing, almost certainly stolen from some abandoned temple and wrenched from the grip of a forgotten idol, was forged to encompass on each of its four sides the visage of what I assumed was some Durpari deity or hero or another. To certain buyers of antiquities, I’m sure, this scepter would still retain some value, despite having been rusted almost beyond recognition.

“But this was not my query. I simply wanted to know: Who was this child saint of the Ormpe trash pickers? For a ten-day, I sat at his feet asking questions, and found at least some answers to my queries. But mostly I found a child ignorant of his own power and influence. I witnessed children bringing to Sahil stale loaves of the local flatbread, having already begun to become spotted with mold. And Sahil, with a gesture and a brief prayer, erased the spoilage with the ease of an innkeeper wiping a tavern’s drink-spotted counter. I saw children approaching with empty pitchers, and again, I saw Sahil touch the pitchers’ rims with a whispered prayer and the things fill to the brim with clean, potable water.

“Now, I had seen such minor miracles performed by numerous priests from here to Waterdeep, and I had no doubt that clerics dwelt here too in these lands for whom such feats were a trivial effort. This child was no proper priest, it was certain. Even the raiment and accoutrements of this child, his tattered robes and makeshift armor and rusty mace, seemed a mockery compared to the merest acolyte in even the most modest temple. And yet, among the urchins of Ormpe, this Sahil was regarded as a saint.

“It became apparent over the weeks I spent among them why this was the case: Priests indeed came to visit the Quarter over those weeks and many other goodly individuals besides. The Hin of the local Baker chaka came to distribute their unsaleable day-old goods among the hungry, and even a few properly trained priests passed through long enough to assuage their consciences.

“But few dwelt here for any meaningful duration, and the poor of the trash heaps treated all of them with skepticism and distrust. Sahil, however, was one of their own, an orphan of Ormpe. His miracles, however meager, were homegrown, without the pretense of pity or self-indulgent sacrifice, and so the others in the Quarter held them in high esteem.

“Sahil himself seemed reluctant to answer any personal questions. Instead, he spoke mostly in cryptic sayings and rambling parables, as if trying to imitate the wisdom of properly educated priests. But over several weeks, I did manage to tease out a few pertinent facts about his history.

“His family, like most residents of the quarter, had moved here in search of work, but they had succumbed to the slum’s despair. His father had turned to the cheap but strong drink plentiful in such neighborhoods as these. His mother had turned to despondency. The father disappeared, in the end, and Sahil’s mother disappeared within herself.

“From what I had been able to prise from Sahil, his mother still dwelt here in Ormpe, but he was unwilling to speak of her. When I inquired further about his family, he seemed to grow annoyed, until he at last gestured to the children who had assembled before him. ‘These little birds,’ he said, ‘These are my mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers.’

“I did not press him further on the matter.

“The next day, I departed. In the marketplace, I had encountered a Calishite merchant bound to Pyratar. My purse had grown light through my travels, so when he offered me passage on his dhow for a modest fee, I could hardly refuse. Had I time and coin enough, I would have investigated more thoroughly the mystery of the Holy Orphan of Ormpe, but the exigencies of travel forbade it.

“I worried that Sahil might be offended by my sudden departure, but, as our dhow departed the dock in Ormpe, a certain thrush alighted upon the taffrail. ‘Come again,’ he chirped, ‘Come again.’ I laughed heartily at this cheerful bird. If the gods will it, I shall indeed return one day to Ormpe.”

~

An excerpt from the later correspondence of Loducius the Laughing, in a letter responding to a reader of his travelogue Shaar and Beyond

“… In response to your latter query, I did indeed return to Ormpe, some three years after I penned my initial account. I did not, however, find any trace of the Holy Orphan Sahil.

“It seems that, after my departure, tensions had arisen between the young denizens of the Quarter of No Hope and the merchants of Ormpe. These tensions began at first with a series of minor incidents: a mango snatched from a street vendor’s stand, a hole cut in the bottom of a purse in a crowded market, events that seemed relatively insignificant to me and common enough, especially in a town of such disparate wealth. But as I observed often in my travels in the Shining Lands, the famed tolerance of this region did not extend to sins of trade and commerce. For such crimes, there was little forgiveness.

“As the merchants of the town grew impatient with these offenses, minor thefts quickly gave way first to scuffles and soon to more violent altercations, and the ruling Gemstone chaka was eager to put an end to such disruptions in the marketplace. Moreover, the dwarves were eager to find some cause for the urchins’ newfound audacity. To this end, they could find no better scapegoat than the child preacher Sahil, who held such sway among the town’s younger poor.

“In a torch-lit assembly in the dead of night, the town’s Nawab, that is, its chief merchant and de facto ruler, prevailed upon his appointed judges to condemn Sahil for conspiring to interfere unlawfully in the free trade of goods. They agreed, and since Sahil possessed precious little in material wealth, they determined also that seizure of his property would affect him little. Instead, he would be taken into custody and deprived of his freedom.

“Fortunately for Sahil, his young disciples, his ‘little birds’, had already caught wind of the Nawab’s efforts, and when the town guards came to seize Sahil early that next day, they found him already gone.

“It seems that several bands of mercenaries had passed through Ormpe in recent days, responding to a call out of Assur for individuals willing to help them quell some troubles they had experienced there of late. Sahil’s disciples, having already heard rumors of the trouble that was to come for Sahil there in Ormpe, prevailed upon him to offer his services as healer to one such band and thus secure safe travel out of the reach of the local Nawab.

“Sahil was reluctant to leave, I was told, wishing rather to face arrest than to abandon those whom he called family. But when he could no longer bear the tears of his followers, who had no desire to see him bound in chains, he conceded to their pleas and departed without further objection.

“With this, I heard no more of the Holy Orphan of Ormpe. I can only hope that whatever god or gods he worshipped – and I confess I never wholly understood the nature of his faith – guided him to a new calling and a good end. Perhaps his later adventures will someday too be recorded, but as of my last visit, I could find neither rumor nor trace.

“I apologize that I cannot provide a more satisfying response to your query.”

Psych Profile

A child of calamities and suffering beyond his power to avert or control, Sahil grew up too soon, forced to become a father figure to his own surrogate family of orphans and urchins. His memories of his father are of an angry drunk; of his mother, a woman who had given up on any hope of happiness. Consequently, his first true sense of family was that of his fellow orphans among the Ormpe trash heaps.

The two main psychological impacts of this experience – Sahil’s yearning for a sense of a true family and his compassion for those who face hardships beyond their control – combine with his personal spirituality to form Sahil’s principal motivations. As a result, Sahil is both a fierce advocate for the downtrodden as well as a fiercely loyal friend to whatever ersatz family he adopts; if these two impulses were ever to be pitted against one another, it is uncertain which path Sahil would choose.

Sahil’s experiences have also left him with an attitude toward the wealthy that makes him distinct in a culture that often conflates wealth with personal merit. Instead, he is deeply suspicious of wealth and luxury and those who possess them, regardless of what merits they may seem otherwise to display. He can eventually be persuaded to trust a person of wealth – the Adama dwells in the rich as assuredly as it does in the orphan or widow – but trust is not his first impulse; such trust must be earned.

With regard to religion, Sahil ascribes to the philosophy of the Adama and believes that his own divine powers derive from that universal spirit. Without having had any formal training in religion, however, Sahil’s understanding of the Adama is idiosyncratic and eclectic, having been fashioned from a motley assortment of second-hand parables and sayings, his own life experiences, and his communions with his animal spirit, whom he regards as a special manifestation of the Adama.

On the one hand, some of Sahil’s belief regarding the Adama is fairly conventional. Notably, he recognizes the presence of the Adama in all things and will not participate directly in the killing of any living being. He is willing, though, to provide healing and other magical aid to allies even if they themselves are engaged in acts of violence, as well as use debilitating but non-lethal magic on foes. However, as of the start of the campaign, he has not had much reason to test this philosophy, and it is uncertain how he would react if confronted by a situation where direct lethal violence was the only way to avert the suffering of the innocent.

On the other hand, Sahil’s experiences have given him a markedly different understanding of the Adama from that possessed by most in his culture with regard to wealth and property. Sahil has witnessed firsthand in Ormpe many who became poor not through moral failure or laziness, but through economic and cultural forces beyond their control, and he rejects outright any argument that would place greater value in property rights than in the alleviation of human suffering.

In fact, the Nawab of Ormpe was not wholly wrong in accusing Sahil of stirring up his followers to acts of theft: Although Sahil never advised his disciples openly to commit property crimes, he would often tell stories and parables that lionized the poor, vilified the wealthy, and celebrated acts of civil disobedience, and he refused to speak out in condemnation of the acts that raised such tensions in Ormpe.

As for specific deities, Sahil would recognize names like Lucha, Curna, Zionil, and Torm, perhaps be able to relate a bit of common knowledge about each of their portfolios, but he doesn’t feel partial to any of them in particular. If Sahil knew more of the gods, he would probably identify most with the faith of Ilmater, and it’s possible even that Sahil’s white-feathered animal spirit is himself an emissary of Ilmater, drawn to this land by the suffering of the poor and by premonitions of suffering yet to come. If that is the case, however, it is not something that Pak-Pak has thus far chosen to disclose.

With regard to his day-to-day devotional practice, Sahil’s practices are relatively simple. Most of his devotional time is spent in quiet contemplation, or else counting his prayer beads and repeating chants taught to him by his spirit animal, mantras that seem to correspond to no language in particular.

When Sahil eats or drinks, he may toss a pinch of food to the birds or spill out a little water upon the grass in recognition of the Adama. He never refuses food or drink given to him by others in good faith, but he chooses only the most basic fare when he provides for himself. If he acquires gold beyond his most basic immediate necessities, he uses it to support the poor rather than save up for a future calamity, trusting instead in the Adama to provide.

Update: As a result of the events of the campaign, Sahil has opted to devote himself fully to the god Ilmater. He’s also come to understand the limits of his philosophy of nonviolence, especially when confronted by evils that will not respond to reason or appeals to compassion. These same events, however, have cemented his distrust of the rich and powerful; in fact, after learning that the Cult of Orcus had infiltrated and made themselves at home among the wealthy and powerful of his land and of his hometown, his distrust has been kindled into a burning desire to see the proud laid low once and for all…

Pak-pak (Thrush Familiar [Sage Archetype]) Size Diminutive; Speed 10 ft., fly 40 ft. (average).; AC 20 (+2 Dex, +4 natural, +4 size); hp 89 (18 HD), fast healing 1; Fort +4, Ref +8, Will +13; SR 23; Attack bite +18 (1d2-5); Ability Scores Str 1, Dex 15, Con 6, Int 23, Wis 15, Cha 6; Feats Skill Focus (Perception); Skills Fly +12, Knowledge (nature, religion) +34, Knowledge (arcana, dungeoneering, engineering, geography, local, nobility, planes, history) +21, Perception +5; Languages Common, Auran, Celestial, Durpari, Infernal, Sylvan, Terran; Special Qualities deliver touch spells, improved evasion, low-light vision, share spells, empathic link, scry on familiar, speak with master, speak with animals of its kind, spell resistance.





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cpthero2
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Posted - 06 Dec 2020 :  09:34:02  Show Profile  Visit cpthero2's Homepage Send cpthero2 a Private Message  Reply with Quote
MISSING IN ACTION

Chaka of House Quavein, a.k.a. Tuck Arbuckle

An evil Drow who had been murdered and reincarnated as a Hin as a form of humiliation and torture. He escaped captivity, to seek revenge against anyone and all, seeking divine refuge with the Lady of Loss. While seeming to be the typically easy to get along with Hin, he was far from it. At 3'2", and 38 lbs., and the former Asst. Harbormaster of Assur, "Tuck" had infiltrated many organizations, seemingly intent on building power for some nefarious reason. While the full extent of his Machiavellian efforts are unknown, his former travelling companions know him for who he is: a traitor, and worthy of death!

The real question is: where is "Tuck", what is he up to, and does it spell doom for his former companions?

Sailor 1 / Rogue 2 / Bard 6????

https://a-troubled-economy.obsidianportal.com/characters/tuck-arbuckle

Character Bio

Tuck Arbuckle grew up within sight of the Southern Lluirwood, between Ammathtar and Ammathluir. It was a little thorp called Threestone, for a reason no one could quite recall. Tuck’s father was a teacher and his mother raised Tuck as an only child. Tuck had access to many books, and read a great deal. A human wizard lived in Ammathluir, and sometimes Tuck’s father, Denly, would travel to buy books from the wizard, whose name Tuck can no longer recall.

One season, when Tuck was in his teens, the wizard took notice of the lad’s quick wit and took Tuck in as an apprentice. He was a hard taskmaster. He pressed Tuck in many ways to study, memorize, and toil. After five years, owing to Tuck’s quick mind and relentless will to learn all he could, he was able to cast several cantrips, and basic spells.

One day, the wizard found a mysterious note, in a strange, thick envelope, on his workbench. The wizard opened it, and quickly stowed it inside his vest. He ordered Tuck to pack some provisions, clothes and vital supplies. Before the sun was at noon, they led a laden pony down a track and into the Southern Luirwood. All the old wizard would say, was that he was summoned to repay a debt. That night Tuck was awoken by rough hands, and a knife in his ribs. He and the wizard were gagged and chained and led into the black night by black-skinned elves with white hair.

They moved under the cover of a powerful glamour, which Tuck could barely comprehend, let alone understand. The drow had very strong magic and incredible strength in their lithe bodies. Unceasingly they marched, hour by hour, day after day. The rests were brief and miserable. Tuck’s mind began to be muddled with the strain of it, and while they marched, the drow taunted the wizard. The note had been a trick. It was an ambush pure and simple. It worked so easily they said. Of course the wizard’s dear friend penned it with his own hand, shortly before the hand was cut off and fed to him.

Delirium overtook Tuck after many days. Eventually they plunged deep, deep underground. For weeks they traveled and eventually came to a strange city that seemed to be made from melted stone, by artisans of incredible skill! The wizard and Tuck were separated. Tuck never saw him again. Tuck got special treatment—special torment. Tuck was starved, beaten, drugged, drowned, shocked and ensorcelled. Tuck forgot Tuck. Tuck forgot the wizard. Tuck remembered only pain. Tuck learned that the pain stopped when he worked. The pain stopped when Tuck was nothing. Tuck became nothing. He was a small sthikstaz. A sthikstaz is a particular type of worm. Many worms have valuable jobs. Worms that spread disease or enrich the soil, or provide sustenance are all useful worms. The sthikstaz is a useless worm. It provides no benefit from it’s existence. It is found in shit of the low races. Tuck was a sthikstaz, and he was told so many times per hnthas, (“day” had no meaning in this place, and it’s direct equivalent does not exist in the drow tongue).

Tuck learned Drow and Undercommon. He slaved away, ate scraps and vermin that he was fed. Tuck carried. It was always a source of humor for the drow to burden his small frame with heavy objects and force him to carry them, or simply hold them. Beatings really helped Tuck focus his attention on his hands, arms and posture so he could hold up heavy things far past normal hin endurance.

Tuck was carrying water in an open jug for miles and miles as part of a caravan. Suddenly there was bright light, which blinded him, and loud explosions. Screams ripped through the air and the cruel drow moved with blinding speed, drawing sword and bows and racing into the deadly melee. It was short and stupefyingly deadly. Deep dwarves then moved methodically through the carnage delivering killing blows to wounded dwarves and drow alike. Rough hands grabbed Tuck again. He was now a slave of another people. The beatings began anew. Tuck was sold again later, probably a month or so. Crinti bought him. They took him to the surface. They sold him again, this time to a hobgoblin captain who bought Tuck and three other slaves. Then Tuck was sold to a human ship-captain. Captain Dornather of the Goldwater Queen.

Aboard the Goldwater Queen Tuck was pressed into service. As a seaman, he was able to nimbly climb the rigging, but his small size was a severe detriment to hauling “lines” which is what the sailors called rope. Soon Tuck gained favor with Captain Dornather, a Durparan human, when he realized the hin could cast spells. Tuck had never dared do so for the four years of captivity in the underdark. Tuck’s quick mind also made him invaluable to the ship’s quartermaster, Ilerian Gatewater. It wasn’t long before Tuck was accepted by the rest of the crew. He had wicked good luck at cards and dice. After two years Tuck was able to buy his freedom from Capt. Darnather and become full-member of the crew. He was esteemed for his nimble feet and mind, and also for his incredible strength, compared to most hin, of course!

Tuck sailed back and forth along the coast from Halrua to Estagund. He saw many sights. Finally the Goldwater Queen went to Port in Beluir. Unfortunately, Captain Dornather’s disdain of the Adama caught up with him! Somehow the authorities learned of his identity and he was wanted. In the confusion and violence of Darnather’s capture, Tuck was able to escape into the city, a free hin!

Tuck walked to Threestones, with not even a copper in his pocket. He slept in barns and and performed minor jobs with his limited magic. People seemed to take to him quite quickly, owing to Tuck’s affable nature. Finally, he got back to his childhood home to find it abandoned. Many of the buildings in Threestones were burnt, including the school and the home where Tuck was raised. In the graveyard there was no marker for his parents. Nobody recognized Tuck as the youth who left over ten years prior, but they told him of an raid by jackalweres that saw the teacher, Denly and his wife, Ammath, slain. All the dead were burned, for fear of lycanthropy taking hold.

Tuck left Threestones and never looked back. He had his wits, which were considerable, and his stories from being at sea and sailing to distant lands. Tuck became a bit of a traveling minstrel. He went from town to town, casting small spells, spinning tales in pubs and taverns, and gathering new stories all the while. Eventually he made his way to Assur, in Durpar.

Tuck lived near the docks and spent his days near the ships and people that he loved. He no longer had a family, but he had fond memories of his time at sea. He told stories to the people of the wharf and made a modest living. One day he happened to overhear a drunken man threaten the life of the harbormaster! Horrified by what he heard, Tuck went and told the harbormaster, and was able to describe in exact detail to the city watch what Tuck heard. The drunken man was taken away by the city watch, and the harbormaster, Fernid Empator, showed his appreciation inviting Tuck to dinner in his home. Empator was very impressed by the intellect and charm of the hin that he soon appointed Tuck to be his assistant harbormaster.

Tuck had a very important job. He was tasked with coordinating cargo inspections, getting manifests in order, delivering and filing manifests, orders of marque, and various writs, and inspecting warehouses for compliance with harbor regulations. Soon the harbor was running at top efficiency, far beyond what Empator had achieved on his own. Tuck was glad to get a livable wage, and still spend his time at the wharf with the sights, sounds and smells he loved.

Tuck Arbuckle’s Psych Profile

Tuck is an optimist despite his horrid past. Tuck is well-educated and worldly. He has seen the worst the world can show, and he has risen above it. Tuck does not trust easily, but his trust can be won. Due to his small size in a big world, Tuck is very cautious and he has learned that threats can come on swiftly. He knows life is not fair, and cruelty is very real.

Tuck has no ambitions to marry or settle down. He is not at peace with the death of his parents, and his time in the underdark put him through such an extreme mental break, that his childhood is very detached. In his heart he doesn’t feel like the child raised by Denly and Ammrath was really him. At this point, he has no emotional attachment to Threestones, Luiren, or even other hin. When talking of his past it feels like he is reciting the life of another person, and he avoids the topic as much as possible.

Tuck is an opportunist. He has seen that making long term plans is often fruitless. ‘Life is short and so am I,’ he often says. Opportunity comes and goes. Take it when you get the chance, because success and happiness can be fleeting. Tuck is not a strict follower of the Adama. He is thankful that most people in Durpar follow the Adama, but he has learned harsher, more impactful laws: the weak are at the mercy of the strong and there is wickedness in the world. Nothing punishes the wicked or rewards the obedient. What happens, happens.

Tuck makes friends quickly and relies on his charm and unimposing size to set strangers at ease. He finds it easy to get others to talk to him and trust him. He is a “people person”.

Tuck fears drow to the very depth of his being. He also fears spiders. He does not like to carry things either. He packs lightly and for trips more than a block or two he will rent a mule or a cart to carry him and his things. He will not willingly submit to any servile relationship. He would rather abandon items than carry a heavy load, despite his abnormally great strength.

Tuck has bad dreams at night and sometimes mutters in drow under his breath. He is not normally conscious that he is doing it. His time in the underdark still haunts him.






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sleyvas
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Posted - 06 Dec 2020 :  17:41:49  Show Profile Send sleyvas a Private Message  Reply with Quote
I'll have to come back to this, and I started at the end before realizing that you posted all of this today, but I wanted to give you some commendations on Tuck Arbuckle. That is some good work.

Alavairthae, may your skill prevail

Phillip aka Sleyvas
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cpthero2
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Posted - 06 Dec 2020 :  18:08:25  Show Profile  Visit cpthero2's Homepage Send cpthero2 a Private Message  Reply with Quote
Great Reader sleyvas,

Thank you first of all! Second: thank the player, Dave. He is a god damn wizard of RP tackling that character in a reasonable, fair, ethical, and epic way! Seriously epic player for RP. :)

Please let me, or the players character you are interested in, know if you have questions. I want to spot light their awesomeness, because they are awesome! :)

I am starting another scroll for their journals, individually over almost four years! :)


Best regards,






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Delnyn
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Posted - 06 Dec 2020 :  20:43:09  Show Profile Send Delnyn a Private Message  Reply with Quote
Master cpthero2,
Two questions:

Does the campaign use Pathfinder 1E rules?
Is Leira the patron deity of the party?

At least I do not see multiple variations of cleric/rogue/sacred fist.
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cpthero2
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Posted - 06 Dec 2020 :  22:20:21  Show Profile  Visit cpthero2's Homepage Send cpthero2 a Private Message  Reply with Quote
Senior Scribe Delnyn,

Great to hear from you as always good sir!

quote:
Two questions:

Does the campaign use Pathfinder 1E rules?
Is Leira the patron deity of the party?

At least I do not see multiple variations of cleric/rogue/sacred fist.



Question 1: I use a hybrid of 3.5 and PF 1e rules.

Question 2: Due to how I run my sandbox campaigns, there are no influences from me such that there would be a "patron deity" for the party. In fact, even the term 'party' is an unused term ro help pull away from the notion of playing D&D. The characters are played as close to "real life" people as possible.

That being said, it just so happens that due to individual choices made, all of the characters are in fact Chosen of Leira. When I complete the posting of each character's journals, you'll see the confusing, challenging, and at times, heart wrenching choices being made by the characters on their journey, which as of now, has led them to become the Chosen of the Lady of Mists.

As to the character class combos, I take it as a monumental compliment that you do not see 'optimized' characters! :-) Rarely will you see that. The impacts of roleplaying in my campaigns (as you'll be able to read about in the characters journals) have as much impact as mechanics/crunch. So, you'll see characters progressing in ways that are commensurate with their RP as opposed to what it's mechanically best.

It's a point of true pride I have as a DM, and a point of enormous respect I have for my players as hardcore role players.:-)

I hope you check out there journals. :-)

Best regards,











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