The Shadowed Legacy -- Character Thread

[Magus]

This is where particpants shall post their characters, and only their characters. Only one post allowed per participant, which can be editted as needed. Post the character's name, race, class, alignment, stats, inventory, and background story (including a general description of the character). Every character (Northern Shadows character or not) starts as fairly inexperienced, yet somewhat seasoned (i.e. about level 3). Edit your post every so often and update your inventory.

[Aegis]

Name: Herish
Species: Human
Class: Undetermined
Allegiance: Undetermined
Point: Undetermined ( )
Stats: 12, 13, 10, 14, 11, 14
Inventory: Sword, Crude Black Powder fast-action proppelant device, pair of spiffy green glasses, long red trench-coat with neck lapels

Background: He's an intelligent, and charismatic drifter. He appeared on the planes of Faerun one day, years ago. He never realized it, but when he was a younger man, he had accidently stepped through one of the many doors of the multiverse, sending him hurtling towards the Prime Material. Since then, he has spent his time wandering up and down the Sword Coast, occasionally travelling to exotic locales such as Kara-Tur, and the fabled court of the Seldarine. His exact age isn't known, nor is much of his past. What is known though, is that bad luck seems to haunt him like that of a vengeful Uncle in search of the last piece of cake Herish would often eat. He detests the sight of blood, and the sight of death even more, and is generally a pacifist. Though he is generally good natured, and often considered childish, he is more than able to take a stance, and stand up for himself. One of his more notable talents is his ability to create a fine black powder, capable of propeling small objects at high velocities when ignited, though it requires a great amount of time and money. His last known location was somewhere along the sword coast.

[Rob-hin]

Name: Ambron
Species: Dwarven
Class: Monk
Alignment: Lawfull good

Age: 88

Stats:
Str: 13
Dex: 14
Con:14
Int: 10
Wis:14
Cha:8

Inventory:
Studded leather armor
Quarterstaff
Light crossbow
llots
Book of laws
Holy symbol
Pipe

Deitie: Moradin

Background: There are only a few Dwarven monks, so Ambron can draw a small crowd when he visits an unknown town. Many ask why a Dwarf has decided to practice the art of fighting by the mystical way of a monk. Monks are normally slim and fast, surely a dwarf does not fit this profile.

He lived with his parents in a poor part of town where al lot of thieves and robbers lived, low life scum his father called them. To escape from all this, Ambron joined a small group of monks. They thought him the way of knowledge and martial arts. He read all of their books and learned to fight with a quarterstaff or with his bare hands instead of the hammer or an axe, like most dwarfs.

After training in the way of martial arts for years, there was no more the monks could teach him. It was time to set of into the real world, with real dangers. So he did, and after a few years on the road he decided to settle down for a while, so he bought a small house with the money he made while adventuring. It wasn’t much but he didn’t need more.

Short description:
Ambron doesn’t look like an ordinary Dwarf.
He is just a bit taller and pretty slim, for a Dwarf that is. But this is not the most striking thing about him. His bright blue eyes see right through you.
He has a small beard by Dwarven standards; a long beard could block his actions in a fight. However, he took great pride in his once long beard, and he would like it back. He is thinking about letting it grow again.
Ambron has studied laws with the monks and he tries to follow them to the best of his abilities.

[Bad Karma]

Name: Arvyon
Race: Human
Class: Cleric (Helm, Strength domain)
Level: 3
Alignment: Lawful Neutral

STR - 12 (+1)
DEX - 10
CON - 14 (+2)
INT - 10
WIS - 16 (+3, +1 1st-3rd level spell)
CHA - 12 (+1)

Inventory

chain mail
helm
shield
morning star
light mace
holy symbol

Level Spell
0 Create Water
0 Detect Magic
0 Light
0 Resistance
1 Bless
1 Cure Light Wounds
1 Endure Elements (Strength domain)
1 Remove Fear
2 Bull's Strength (Strength domain)
2 Cure Moderate Wounds
2 Summon Monster II

Arvyon originally hails from Icewind Dale, but at the behest of his brother he travelled south to Amn in search of adventure. His brother was killed and Arvyon could do nothing to save him. Now Arvyon seeks a new group of companions whom he hopes he will prove himself to and regain his honor.

[Arcane]

Yllidan
Halfling
Sorcerer
Level:3
Alignment:Lawful Neutral

Str:10 (+1)
Dex:14
Con:12
Int:11
Wis:12
Charisma:14 (+1??)

INVENTORY:
Halfling Stave (3 1/2 feet instead of 5+)
Yllidan Family Dagger (nothing special)
Purple and Black robes
Amulet of Leadership (+1 to charisma)

Yllidan was sitting on a boulder one day when he heard a scream and followed its direction. A hafling girl, one of his village, was being tormented by orcish youths. Each orc had an axe in hand. The girl was defenseless and was about to get killed or raped. Yllidan ran down the hill he watched the spectacle on and leaped at the youths. The orcs were surprised and unprepated for such a thing. His family dagger sank into the neck of the first orc but the second one batted him away. As he fell, a burning stream of flame from out of nowhere seared the orc in flames. He looked around in wonder and thought that it was another wizard but there was none. He looked about again and saw that the girl was cringing in fright. Yllidan took her back home.

That night, he told the village sage about his act and the sage showed him a scroll of Sleep. Yllidan looked at it just once and nodded in understanding. The next day, Yllidan looked about his village and saw a few halfling boys making off with an old womans gold. The runes and words of the scroll of Sleep flashed through his mind and he encanted the words upon the boys. They collapsed in slumber and the gold was saved.

That night, the sage showed Yllidan all his scrolls and bade Yllidan to seek his fortune, for he would not make it in his village among farmers and cobblers.

And so Yllidan set out in the world.

SPELLS:
0.Ray of Frost (5 times a day)
0.Light (5 times a day)
0. Daze (5 times a day)

1.Magic Missile (6 times a day [? not quite remembered])
1.Sleep (6 times a day)
1.Mage armor (6 times a day)

NOTE: if anyone would like to tell me if level 3 sorcerers get level 2 spells, id edit it

[Craig]

Name: Rojin Tobius
Race: Aasimar
Class: Rogue/Monk
Level:3
Alignment:Lawful good

Inventory:
Monk outfit(Kimono)

Your life was tough in the slums, had you been normal you might still be there, although it was a filthy place, with more rats then people, much like the city. However, you had survived there all your life. You grandmother had been an adventurer, tales told of fights on other planes of existence. Yet she had been captured, or so everyone thought, no one had seen her, although by now she would be too old to adventure any more.

It started 10 years back when the crowd came, mainly merchants, hadn’t liked the way you begged around their stalls, or the way you looked different, they wouldn’t had cared if you were dieing in a burning house, all they would wish to save would be their money and their lives, even then money first. A night later, they arrived, you stopped them, maybe it was your attitude the way you stood against the odds, or the way you had had lit, with a glowing light, the make shift weapon you had mused about using, if this happened. Nevertheless, they left, as astounded as you, at your innate powers. Though that did not wipe their minds of what you had done, it was only confirmed their fears.

A week later, the local mage was secretly paid to search everyone, see if any were different if any had divine blood; he found you and he informed them, eager to get extra pay. A week later, the same greedy mage advised them to kill you, to be done with you; he probed their minds and played on their fears, finally agreeing he set about the preparation, keen to get the next sack of shining gold.

It was a horror, that stormy night would have been almost as treacherous with our without the mages help, great lightning bolts raced across the sky, and meteors struck near and around you. The house burned all night long, you saw the burned carcasses, dripping with blood and skin, some had simply turned to a charcoal black, past the melting stage too fast for them to notice their death. You can still remember with terrifying vividness, jumping out of the house, rolling on the floor to extinguish the flames that surely licked your body, but none of that searing heat had touched you.

You had been pushed farther into the darkness of Amn, the only reason you were no longer hunted was that they believed you would never survive that hellhole, self-defence was far more important here, no longer did you fight for scraps, thrown on the floor, in here you had to fight for your life. Even though it wasn’t as enjoyable as on the main streets, it was a lot easier, none of the gangs had the power of the merchants, and few had ever seen a cantrip, let alone the power that corrupted mage had seen. You learned much there, opting to run rather then fight, you never missed a fight you weren’t in though, you knew hardly any self-defense, and was amazed at all the feints and dodges these children knew, more then once, a child half your age, had tripped you up, or distracted you with a well practiced tactics.

A year or two had you nearly to the top of the food chain; that was when you tried resurfacing from the pool of nauseating, corruption. They had been shocked, your mere visage acting like some death symbol, and quick were they to remove you of their city, it amazed you the fear they had, the fear that only grasped at their money-pouches.

You had far less luck outside the town; villages rarely let you rest, preferring to keep you out of their towns. It was not the warm fire of a kind cleric, or the quick death from a bandit that gave you solace, it was a kindly traveler met you, mistaking you for a bandit. He lunged in with a deft unarmed strike, and another both going wide. The next moment you were on you back, rolling back, purely out of instinct. The fight lasted only a few second but by now you realized the old monk’s tactics and could avoid his blows. You started disarming attacks, and rapidly the tides had turned, he was pinned to the floor,

“Why do you attack me?” You had said, “Why do you attack when I have fewer possessions then you?”

“You are not a bandit?” He said, rolling over and getting up in a jump. “Then truly it my apology I must hand over, not a sack of coins!” Said the monk merrily, and you both laughed, the sound of your laughter filling your heart with joy. It was late that evening that he invited you back to his house, far back, near one of the villages you had been in before,

“I shall give you a bed for the night,” The monk said, as soon as you had stepped inside.

“I thank you, but…” You started of, afraid to sound silly or rude, “Could you teach me how to fight like you did? It would be a great boon as I have no money to buy weapons.”

It was a sad day when you departed, months from your arrival, even though the sun shone brightly, it did not penetrate the depression you felt, now; but you had to strengthen your resolve. It was half way down the path to the road you remembered your grandmother…

[Magus]

I'll update this every once in a while as more is discovered about the character...

Name: Gilthanas
Race: Half-Elf
Class: Fighter?
Level: ??? (fights with uncommon grace and skill)
Alignment: Chatoic Evil?, Chaotic Neutral? (appears to act on the flip of a coin, cold and seemingly ruthless)

Stats:

Str: ??? (swings a blade with more strength than appearances would suggest)
Dex: ??? (very agile, almost inhumanly so)
Con: ???
Int: ??? (if much at all goes on in that mind of his, he doesn't show it)
Wis: ??? (seems to be absent-minded, forgetful)
Chr: ??? (has all the charm of a pregnant Tana'ari)

Spells:

<unknown>


Inventory:

worn grey traveling clothes
worn grey cape
ornate katana in weathered leather sheath
fine dagger (magical?)
short bow and quiver
a bag of gold
<further items unknown>

Description:

<more to come>

[damien the 3rd]

Name: Malsar
Race: Lich former Human
class: Diviner
Level: 4(he started as 11, but see description for details)
alleigance+alignment: Red Wizards, Lawful Evil(leans toward LN)

Str:11
Dex:13
Con:-
Int:16
Wis:10
Cha:9

Inventory
Lesser Rod of Withering(1d3 strength damage per hit)
Red Wizard Robes(+1 to AC)
spell components
old staff
Familiar head(glass bottle with his bat familiars head in it.
The complete compendium on the elemental planes by The Simbul
Doctrine of Fire(the holy text of Kossuth)
spellbook
several potions and scrolls of which he does uses for trading

Background: a Red Wizard since there founding, Maslar became a lich to satisfy his lust for immortality. always a bit paranoid, he secluded himself for 100 years in a simple house of a peasant, spying on everybody in Thay. Yet a foul entity from the plane of water captured him and plased him in a permenant stasis. his power was slowly stolen from him, and went from 11th to 4th level in a course of about 400 years. after the time of troubles, he escaped and went back to thay. He has since been scouring the realms for any magic items that can increase the power of Thay. Though not nearly as paranoid and distrustworthy as he used to be, Maslar still has a firce temper and will most likely never trust anyone.

Spells: all divination 6th or lower plus mage armor, burning hands, web, summon monster 2, protction from chaos.

memorized: 0-6ray of frost
1-2 burning hands, true strike, mage armor, identify
2- web, summon mosnter 2, 3 detect thoughts