Hellooooo people! I have been stalking this rp for a little bit now and I believe I am confident enough to come out of the shadows and stop lurking! :D
Not sure how well the character will work, as I haven't dabbled too much in forgotten realms yet, so I'm sure some changes are in order. But without further ado:
Race:Human/undead...-ish?
Gender: male
Age: 23
Class: Necromancer/rouge
Stats:
Strength: 14
Dexterity: 20
Constitution: 12
Intelligence: 12
Wisdom: 10
Charisma:9
Physical Description: Black, short, and messy hair with a close cut and thin beard that goes along the edge of his jaw. He has a stern face with hazel eyes that hold a piercing gaze. Its not that he's always angry, it just seems to be his neutral face. He has an average stature and a lean athletic build. His whole right arm is ragged looking and closer to a red-black shade than the rest of him and reached the base of his neck, his right pectoral, his right shoulder-blade, and down a few ribs. This gruesome sight would at first seem like a terrible wound, but upon further more professional inspection, would reveal an evil taint, which seemed to be spreading further across his chest.
Armor/Attire: He wears a large black hood that covers most of his face when worn save for his eyes. When the hood is down, it distorts the silhouette of his shoulders and hangs loosely about his head, nearly covering the whole neck and almost reaching the lower end of his jaw. He has a cotton shirt he wears under a layered leather vest, both of which are sleeveless for ease of movement. His whole right arm is covered in bandages up past the shoulder, covering up the dark arm entirely. A dark red sash is wrapped around his waist with the loose ends hanging at his left hip. It tops off a dark gray loose fitting pants that have a few random patches here and there for having to fix various imperfections in the fabric. The pants ended tucked into some leg wraps that ran from his upper calf, just below the knees, to the ankles, in which it run under the foot to keep secure. As for his feet, he wears some cloth shoes the leave the large toe separate and leather pads on the bottom for grip and protection.
Equipment
Mental Description/Personality: Mostly quiet and reserved until he gets to know somebody well enough to trust them, Dremmick is not very sociable. He is very cold in his decisions due to his kill or be killed lifestyle as of recent years, however he is not normally sadistic unless they really deserve it. Once he gets to know someone and trust them however, he does start to open up and talk more, even make a few facial expressions and moods other than contempt! While mildly pessimistic, he tries to think most things through as much as possible before doing them, though understands how the best laid plans can still go to waste. He does have a 'Doc' complex to where if there was any way he thought he could be able to save one of his comrades, he will not stop to save them till they were safe or he could say he died trying. Also, if he does talk to people, he is a proponent of dry or dark humor, and as a bit of mental recoil to bad puns. Not the person to ask for opinions.
Goals: To find out why he was revived and to find his family's killers
Background/History:
Notes:
-Dremmick really doesn't care for people that much. Unless he finds a group to fight for and for once actually align himself with, he could care less who he kills. After all, neither sides of the spectrum were really his friends in past experiences.
-He detests liches. He sees them as overcome with greed and their own power of life and death and believes that they should be eliminated given the opportunity. After all, they aren't the most hospitable people and he blames their abuse of power with the cause of necromancy to become as hated s it has, which in his mind, is the cause of his family's death in the first place.
-Loves breadsticks, and carries a small supply wherever he goes. they are thin, buttery, lightly salted, and crunchy. where he gets them from at random times, nobody knows.
Not sure how well the character will work, as I haven't dabbled too much in forgotten realms yet, so I'm sure some changes are in order. But without further ado:
Character Name
Dremmick Valswei
Dremmick Valswei
Race:Human/undead...-ish?
Gender: male
Age: 23
Class: Necromancer/rouge
Stats:
Strength: 14
Dexterity: 20
Constitution: 12
Intelligence: 12
Wisdom: 10
Charisma:9
Physical Description: Black, short, and messy hair with a close cut and thin beard that goes along the edge of his jaw. He has a stern face with hazel eyes that hold a piercing gaze. Its not that he's always angry, it just seems to be his neutral face. He has an average stature and a lean athletic build. His whole right arm is ragged looking and closer to a red-black shade than the rest of him and reached the base of his neck, his right pectoral, his right shoulder-blade, and down a few ribs. This gruesome sight would at first seem like a terrible wound, but upon further more professional inspection, would reveal an evil taint, which seemed to be spreading further across his chest.
Armor/Attire: He wears a large black hood that covers most of his face when worn save for his eyes. When the hood is down, it distorts the silhouette of his shoulders and hangs loosely about his head, nearly covering the whole neck and almost reaching the lower end of his jaw. He has a cotton shirt he wears under a layered leather vest, both of which are sleeveless for ease of movement. His whole right arm is covered in bandages up past the shoulder, covering up the dark arm entirely. A dark red sash is wrapped around his waist with the loose ends hanging at his left hip. It tops off a dark gray loose fitting pants that have a few random patches here and there for having to fix various imperfections in the fabric. The pants ended tucked into some leg wraps that ran from his upper calf, just below the knees, to the ankles, in which it run under the foot to keep secure. As for his feet, he wears some cloth shoes the leave the large toe separate and leather pads on the bottom for grip and protection.
Note that the description above is slightly different but the weapons are mostly the same with the addition of a ring on the end of the handle for the knife.
Equipment
- A rope dart, normally rolled up and hanging from the front left of his sash.
- A large karambit, sheathed at his back, just above his butt pack (explained below), drawn right handed.
- A sword breaker, sheathed at his back as well, bundled with his karambit and drawn left handed. The bundle is held onto the back of the vest. If you don't know what a sword-breaker is, this is a good example:well...for pc maybe.
- He has a heavy canvas cloth harness that runs between his shirt and vest. It holds up what could be considered a leather belt with a built in butt pack with three pouches. The middle contains a roll of bandages, a small surgical blade, a bottle of alcohol (sometimes in drink form if no pure alcohol is available), and a tourniquet. His left smaller pouch holds various vials of crushed herbs or liquids for medicinal uses and antidotes. Finally the right pouch holds a notepad, charcoal pencil, a tiny small vial of ink, and a pen. This pack sits just above his sash, though it tends to hang over it in the back.
- The notepad contains information gathered on Dremmick's travels, mostly of few important details to remember and plenty of info on plants along with their various uses and properties such as what is poisonous and what can be used medically.
Mental Description/Personality: Mostly quiet and reserved until he gets to know somebody well enough to trust them, Dremmick is not very sociable. He is very cold in his decisions due to his kill or be killed lifestyle as of recent years, however he is not normally sadistic unless they really deserve it. Once he gets to know someone and trust them however, he does start to open up and talk more, even make a few facial expressions and moods other than contempt! While mildly pessimistic, he tries to think most things through as much as possible before doing them, though understands how the best laid plans can still go to waste. He does have a 'Doc' complex to where if there was any way he thought he could be able to save one of his comrades, he will not stop to save them till they were safe or he could say he died trying. Also, if he does talk to people, he is a proponent of dry or dark humor, and as a bit of mental recoil to bad puns. Not the person to ask for opinions.
Goals: To find out why he was revived and to find his family's killers
Background/History:
Dremmick had grown up with his parents until about the age of twelve years old. His family studied in necromancy and would travel the world to heal the sick and revive people who had recently met an untimely end. This backfired however when they revived a man who was found murdered in an alley. Although the life energy was pulled from an animal, when the man reported to the guard that he had been murdered and then resurrected, the first thing that they did after capturing the murderer was hunt down the Valswei family. While most clients the Valswei family undertook were fine with the prospect of necromancy bringing their loved ones back to life, it wasn't necessarily legal either. Dremmick's parents left him with his aunt and uncle while they were on the run. Unfortunately, they didn't make it that long, and were publicly hung for dealing in the dark arts of lichdom. Which wasn't really true since they didn't steal life force to strengthen themselves as a lich would.
Three years had passed and while Dremmick's heart still ached for his parents, he knew there was nothing he could do. His aunt and uncle discouraged the use of necromancy and, as botanists, taught him the healing and medicinal values of herbs and other plants. However, he would still tinker with the magic behind their back when he was alone. He took the same vow as his parents, to never resurrect someone who had been dead for over a few hours, as decomposition would start and retrieving the soul would also prove to become nearly impossible, never to take the life force from other people, and never turn his gifts toward lichdom.
Two years later he was slowly became adapt at transferring life forces and reviving small animals such as birds with the life force from rats that he caught around the house. He even learned over time how to slightly control his control However, this time of peace was surely not to last. One day, there was a knock on the door, and the moment Dremmick's uncle answered, he was impaled by a sword as a group of men stormed the house. they didn't look like the regular guards that took his parents, and better armed than common bandits. Mercenaries perhaps? The aunt quickly tried to escape with Dremmick, but she was not as fast and bid him to go on without her. He refused while turning around to help his aunt up onto a horse when an arrow cam flying past his shoulder, striking is aunt in the heart. Dremmick panicked as he tried to help her but it was too late. He didn't have the time to revive her. He couldn't leave her here either, there had to be something he could do. He knew what it was, but he had to break a promise.
Apologizing to his parents quietly as he stood back up, Dremmick faced the men following him. His plan was to steal their life energy and restore his aunt's, but the hastily dawn out plan failed, drastically. Not having practiced on humans before and with hatred in his heart, he did more than just remove their life force. The first two men gave up more than some life energy, their very soul was ripped from them and crushed, but just before he could heal his aunt, two arrows struck him in the chest, and he did what only seemed natural to keep himself alive, he healed himself. He could feel a burning start at his right arm, but he ignored it and kept fighting. Eventually his mind faded and everything went black.
When he awoke, he noticed that his home was nothing but ashes. He didn't even remember it catching fire, but there it was, already burnt out, nothing left. When he used his arm to help himself stand up, there was a shock of pain. He looked down a his arm to see it bloody and heavily injured, he thought it was the burning, but something told him it wasn't only is blood, and that's when he looked around and saw nearly eight dead men that surrounded him. He took a step back in a mix of fear and disgust. He turned away to look for the horses, but they weren't there anymore, however, his aunt was still there! He limped over as fast as he could. He tried to think of something fast to save his aunt, and in the rush of things didn't think of the time that had gone by since she died. Or the fact that he didn't have any other life energy to use but his own, but he tried anyway. He was purely trying to will any form of life energy into her while screaming for her to get up. Suddenly, the wound on his arm seemed to grow, and color was coming back to his aunts face. Dremmick put the agonizing pain at the back of his mind when he thought he was reviving his aunt, but just as soon as he stopped trying to heal her, the color faded back out of the vessel. he was not strong enough, or skilled enough, to revive a human, especially after this amount of time, even if it did cost him more of his own bodies energy. He fell to the side as the exhaustion caught back up to him and it was all he could do just to keep his eyes open.
He heard shouting from what looked like four knights approaching the scene. "Over here! We found the necromancer!" His eyes shut, and hen they reopened he could momentarily see them surveying the scene. "My God, all this from that young one there?" More time seemed to slip by as he reopened his eyes one last time to see an older bearded knight approach him. "It is a sorry lot you drew young one," he said with a solemn face, "May the afterlife be kinder to your tortured fate." With that he raised his battle ax over his shoulder. Dremmick held his hand up as if that would stop the inevitable, but the ax fell, and all went silent.
---
The next thing Dremmick knew, he was waking up in what seemed to be a cave. There were arcane makings all around him, but the place seemed abandoned a long time ago. He looked at his arm and noticed the heavy scaring and unnatural look had seemed to reach up a little past his shoulder now. But it was also then that he noticed... it was a little breezy. His face flushed red and looked around again to make sure nobody was there, but then he noticed some clothes and gear in the corner of the cave, next to a dying lantern. He put on the clothes and noticed the leather vest and harness fit him well, and since he was a little chilled he put the hood on as well. He rummaged through the pouches and noticed very familiar sets of herbs and antidotes, and more specifically, his aunts notebook with her initials on the outside, S.V., Silvia Valswei. Dremmick waited there for weeks to no avail before deciding move on. He didn't know what happened after he died, but he had to find answers. And after that, kill the ones responsible for the attacks on his family.
Six years have passed and since then Dremmick has practiced his magic and grown more adept, but still hides it and never uses it publicly, however, he still rarely disregards the rule to take life energy from people as an attack should the emergency arise. He doesn't abosorb it though, but he does heal his own wounds should he be in a deadly situation where help is uncertain, sacrificing himself instead of others. This has caused the plagued area at his arm to spread further, an now ti goes pat the shoulder and covers his right pec and right shoulder blade, as well as reaching a few ribs further downward and up close to the base of the neck. Instead, he has had more practice in medicines and poisons while becoming fairly accomplished in physical fighting as well. He has even partaken in a few mercenary and assassination groups in order to find information on his attackers and earn money to support himself. Though not formally invited, he heard of a nearby Harmarch who needed help with a quest. Fresh from a raid in the mountains he decided to investigate further after cashing in his few spoils.
Three years had passed and while Dremmick's heart still ached for his parents, he knew there was nothing he could do. His aunt and uncle discouraged the use of necromancy and, as botanists, taught him the healing and medicinal values of herbs and other plants. However, he would still tinker with the magic behind their back when he was alone. He took the same vow as his parents, to never resurrect someone who had been dead for over a few hours, as decomposition would start and retrieving the soul would also prove to become nearly impossible, never to take the life force from other people, and never turn his gifts toward lichdom.
Two years later he was slowly became adapt at transferring life forces and reviving small animals such as birds with the life force from rats that he caught around the house. He even learned over time how to slightly control his control However, this time of peace was surely not to last. One day, there was a knock on the door, and the moment Dremmick's uncle answered, he was impaled by a sword as a group of men stormed the house. they didn't look like the regular guards that took his parents, and better armed than common bandits. Mercenaries perhaps? The aunt quickly tried to escape with Dremmick, but she was not as fast and bid him to go on without her. He refused while turning around to help his aunt up onto a horse when an arrow cam flying past his shoulder, striking is aunt in the heart. Dremmick panicked as he tried to help her but it was too late. He didn't have the time to revive her. He couldn't leave her here either, there had to be something he could do. He knew what it was, but he had to break a promise.
Apologizing to his parents quietly as he stood back up, Dremmick faced the men following him. His plan was to steal their life energy and restore his aunt's, but the hastily dawn out plan failed, drastically. Not having practiced on humans before and with hatred in his heart, he did more than just remove their life force. The first two men gave up more than some life energy, their very soul was ripped from them and crushed, but just before he could heal his aunt, two arrows struck him in the chest, and he did what only seemed natural to keep himself alive, he healed himself. He could feel a burning start at his right arm, but he ignored it and kept fighting. Eventually his mind faded and everything went black.
When he awoke, he noticed that his home was nothing but ashes. He didn't even remember it catching fire, but there it was, already burnt out, nothing left. When he used his arm to help himself stand up, there was a shock of pain. He looked down a his arm to see it bloody and heavily injured, he thought it was the burning, but something told him it wasn't only is blood, and that's when he looked around and saw nearly eight dead men that surrounded him. He took a step back in a mix of fear and disgust. He turned away to look for the horses, but they weren't there anymore, however, his aunt was still there! He limped over as fast as he could. He tried to think of something fast to save his aunt, and in the rush of things didn't think of the time that had gone by since she died. Or the fact that he didn't have any other life energy to use but his own, but he tried anyway. He was purely trying to will any form of life energy into her while screaming for her to get up. Suddenly, the wound on his arm seemed to grow, and color was coming back to his aunts face. Dremmick put the agonizing pain at the back of his mind when he thought he was reviving his aunt, but just as soon as he stopped trying to heal her, the color faded back out of the vessel. he was not strong enough, or skilled enough, to revive a human, especially after this amount of time, even if it did cost him more of his own bodies energy. He fell to the side as the exhaustion caught back up to him and it was all he could do just to keep his eyes open.
He heard shouting from what looked like four knights approaching the scene. "Over here! We found the necromancer!" His eyes shut, and hen they reopened he could momentarily see them surveying the scene. "My God, all this from that young one there?" More time seemed to slip by as he reopened his eyes one last time to see an older bearded knight approach him. "It is a sorry lot you drew young one," he said with a solemn face, "May the afterlife be kinder to your tortured fate." With that he raised his battle ax over his shoulder. Dremmick held his hand up as if that would stop the inevitable, but the ax fell, and all went silent.
---
The next thing Dremmick knew, he was waking up in what seemed to be a cave. There were arcane makings all around him, but the place seemed abandoned a long time ago. He looked at his arm and noticed the heavy scaring and unnatural look had seemed to reach up a little past his shoulder now. But it was also then that he noticed... it was a little breezy. His face flushed red and looked around again to make sure nobody was there, but then he noticed some clothes and gear in the corner of the cave, next to a dying lantern. He put on the clothes and noticed the leather vest and harness fit him well, and since he was a little chilled he put the hood on as well. He rummaged through the pouches and noticed very familiar sets of herbs and antidotes, and more specifically, his aunts notebook with her initials on the outside, S.V., Silvia Valswei. Dremmick waited there for weeks to no avail before deciding move on. He didn't know what happened after he died, but he had to find answers. And after that, kill the ones responsible for the attacks on his family.
Six years have passed and since then Dremmick has practiced his magic and grown more adept, but still hides it and never uses it publicly, however, he still rarely disregards the rule to take life energy from people as an attack should the emergency arise. He doesn't abosorb it though, but he does heal his own wounds should he be in a deadly situation where help is uncertain, sacrificing himself instead of others. This has caused the plagued area at his arm to spread further, an now ti goes pat the shoulder and covers his right pec and right shoulder blade, as well as reaching a few ribs further downward and up close to the base of the neck. Instead, he has had more practice in medicines and poisons while becoming fairly accomplished in physical fighting as well. He has even partaken in a few mercenary and assassination groups in order to find information on his attackers and earn money to support himself. Though not formally invited, he heard of a nearby Harmarch who needed help with a quest. Fresh from a raid in the mountains he decided to investigate further after cashing in his few spoils.
Notes:
-Dremmick really doesn't care for people that much. Unless he finds a group to fight for and for once actually align himself with, he could care less who he kills. After all, neither sides of the spectrum were really his friends in past experiences.
-He detests liches. He sees them as overcome with greed and their own power of life and death and believes that they should be eliminated given the opportunity. After all, they aren't the most hospitable people and he blames their abuse of power with the cause of necromancy to become as hated s it has, which in his mind, is the cause of his family's death in the first place.
-Loves breadsticks, and carries a small supply wherever he goes. they are thin, buttery, lightly salted, and crunchy. where he gets them from at random times, nobody knows.
