MAIN GOAL ⫻ (What does your character hope to accomplish in life?)

PHILOSOPHY ⫻ (What is your character's outlook on life?)

SECRETS ⫻ (What is your character hiding?)

SEXUALITY ⫻ (Your character's sexual preference?)

FEARS ⫻ (What does your character fear?)

WHAT BROUGHT THEM TO GREYHARROW ⫻ (Everyone has a reason for coming to this city. What is yours?)

WHAT DO OTHERS IN TOWN THINK OF THEM ⫻ (Are you known as an honorable thief, or a crazed lunatic?)

EQUIPMENT ⫻ (What equipment do they carry? Weapons, armor, tools, and other items should be listed here)

FLAWS ⫻ (What holds your character back?)

Pretty standard affair. I'm not going to expect a super long essay here, just the basics and whatever.

Anyyyything else?

MAIN GOAL ⫻ At this point, Kael'zar is only hoping for a spark of joy. Everything that she held dear, from her family to her home, and to her love, was stolen from her. She has also become involved in a criminal syndicate, does the bidding of some giant turtle, and lives far from the water. At this point, she just wants to be happy.

PHILOSOPHY ⫻ Life is meaningless, but that does not mean that moments within it aren’t. To survive in this hellscape of a world, you need to find someone, or something, that makes existing an additional bearable.

SECRETS ⫻ Kel is a Warlock, and she hides that fact to everyone. Not even her ‘friends’ within The Outcasts know of her true power. The world sees her as a thieving Tiefling, and she works hard to ensure that remains the case. She will often steal things rather poorly to keep the illusions up.

SEXUALITY ⫻ Straight

FEARS ⫻ She fears that she will die alone. Kel knows that the bill with her patron will keep coming due, and she will be required to give more and more to pay off her debt. Kel knows that eventually she will not be fast enough or clever enough to survive a mission. Despite these facts, the only thing she truly fears is to never find a love like the one she had for Felix.

WHAT BROUGHT THEM TO GREYHARROW ⫻ Her patron directed her to the town to investigate the Arcane Tower.

WHAT DO OTHERS IN TOWN THINK OF THEM ⫻ Kel is known as an honorable thief, with a flair for the dramatic. She is a fixture at the Waystone and is often seen chatting with Rosa at the bar.

EQUIPMENT ⫻ Kel carries a light crossbow and twenty bolts, on her person at all times. She was gifted an arcane focus that she wears as a jewel on her forehead. It is shaped like a sea star holding a ruby in its body and is a vibrant red color. When away from town, she will often have a simple dungeoneer’s pack on her back and two black daggers that are holstered in two slots on her black leather armor. A black cloak often accompanies her, regardless of whether she is in town or away.

FLAWS ⫻ (What holds your character back?)

Kael'zar Vexmoor grew up in the poor Dock Ward of Waterdeep. It was a part of town that saw constant conflict that, as the story goes, was only broken up by the buildings that made up the district itself. From her earliest memories, she vividly recalls the stench of fish, rot, and blood. As is the case with many tieflings who reside in the lower wards, she learned how to move unnoticed, how to listen through the cracks in doors to determine if somewhere was safe, and ultimately how to keep her head down when people decided to scapegoat her people once more. She rarely saw her mother, who worked the night shift gutting fish down at the wharves, and her father was missing from the day she was conceived. Even at this young age, at this terrible place, Kael'zar was quiet, clever, and hungry for something more than the filth she waded through every morning.

As she grew into her teen years, she would have the occasional run-in with the law. While she was rarely actually accused of stealing, it was becoming common knowledge that this sneaky Tiefling may be the cause of many a missing purse. It was after one of these thefts, at the age of seventeen, that Kael'zar fell for a person named Felix Darran. She had taken a coin purse from him and slipped through the back alleyways until she thought she had lost him. As she was examining her haul, he had snuck up on her and reminded her that stealing was bad. While she wanted to run, this man managed to talk a poor Tiefling into giving back her ill-gotten goods and to share a meal with him. Felix was a charming smuggler who actually saw the girl for who she was and not the infernal curse that plagued her bloodline. She idolized him, loved him, and followed him everywhere he went. One night, she followed him into a job she should have never touched.

The duo had stolen a ledger belonging to the Dock Ward Captains’ Guild. The duo never looked at what they took and were only told that it was important. Felix was caught first, and Kael'zar watched as they dispatched him without even a second thought. Just put him against a wall, drove a blade through his heart, and let him stay where he fell. When they searched his corpse, they realized the ledger was with his devil girlfriend, and they sought to find her. Kael'zar ran home as fast as her legs could take her through the various shortcuts. When her mother learned what had happened, she pressed all the money to her name into her daughter's hand and told her to run. Within moments, she was the most wanted person in the Dock Ward, and posters were sent all across Waterdeep. Someone needed to answer for the missing ledger, and the Ward did not care what lies they had to spread to catch her.

It took twenty-four hours for Kael'zar to escape the city, and when she did, she ran straight into the dark and never looked back.

Kael'zar fled north along the coast, finding rest beneath overhangs and piers, but she stayed near the water at all times. As she fled, she began to sense that The Sea of Swords was trying to talk to her. The wind would sound like a warm whisper as it whipped up and down the coast, and the waves themselves felt like beckoning hands trying to draw her in. Eventually, the forces of Waterdeep cornered her near a cove and Kael'zar, who was exhausted, numb, and starving, waded out into the knee-deep surf and begged the thick fog that covered the sea for help

And the abyss answered.

Kael'zar watched as the mist parted, revealing a massive, primordial turtle bigger than the entirety of the Dock Ward. While it did not speak in the normal sense, she could hear a whispering voice in her mind that sounded like the tide crashing against the walls of a cliff. It offered her refuge, power, and protection, and in return, she would need to do the bidding of this patron, serve, and be obedient. With her heart broken, she agreed to the terms, and her lungs quickly filled with salt as a strong rush overwhelmed her mind. She passed out into the water, awaking several hours later surrounded by the corpses of the Dock Ward forces. The mist was gone, as was the massive creature, but she knew deep within her core that she was forever changed by this decision.

For the next five years, she did the bidding of her abyssal patron. For the most part, she was instructed to move up and down the coast, targeting massive fisheries that were overfished in the seas. She was commanded to kill, destroy, and pave the way for the ocean to pull these places beneath the waves. As she traveled, she heard stories of this powerful Arcane Tower less than a month's ride away, and this information got back to her patron, who was intrigued. It wanted to see this oddity for itself, and it commanded Kael'zar to investigate the tower, and if she were to get inside, to observe what was there, and take anything that could be of value to the patron, no matter the cost.

Two years have passed since then, and Kael has kept herself busy in Greyharrow. She quickly learned that when she was away from the ocean, she was penniless and hunted still. Thus, she quickly realized that power, real or otherwise, was a currency in this town. She was approached by the leadership of The Outcasts and offered a place in their criminal empire, which she was compelled to accept. Initially, she was little more than an enforcer, yet her skills and talents did not go unnoticed. Within three months, she was put to work as a saboteur and as an assassin, and has done work almost exclusively outside the city. Her patron still finds time for her to drag unwilling souls into the ocean on these trips, and she yearns for the day she can be free of the chains that bind her. Because the longer she works for The Outcasts, the more she feels that the girl that Felix loved is no longer the woman she became, and that breaks her heart once more.

TYPE ⫻ Warlock - Fathomless

PATRON ⫻ Kel does not know the name of her patron. All she knows is they are this ancient, massive, island-like turtle that comes and goes as they please. This patron grants Kel water-based magic and deadly tentacles to crush her foes.

TERMS ⫻ Every so often, the Patron will visit Kel and give her a mission. This mission can be small, like capturing a specific individual and dragging his body to the ocean for consumption, or large, like sabotaging the support pillars of a fishery to cause its collapse. It is expected that she will make haste with completing the mission, and if she delays, her patron will visit her again, but bring the wrath of the depths with them.

CREATE OR DESTROY WATER ⫻ Kel can create or destroy up to ten gallons of water at a time. Typically, she will need to have a container for this water, and each time she creates it will be clean, drinkable water. As well, she can cause this created water to rain down on the area in a thirty-foot radius. She can use this rain to extinguish torches or fires in the area, or create a slick surface for her to engage with. Her destroy water component also allows her to dispatch fog in a similar thirty-foot radius.

TENTACLE OF THE DEEP ⫻ Twice a day, Kel can channel the magic of her patron to summon a swirling water-filled Tentacle of the Deep. This tentacle can be created anywhere within a thirty-foot radius, and it will strike out at enemies without her direction. It attacks by wrapping itself around a target, squeezing, and covering their face with its swirling watery form. Targets killed with this spell are pulled into the whirlpool and disappear through its base to parts unknown.

ELDRITCH BLAST ⫻ By aiming her hand towards a target, and pressing her palm out towards them, Kel can shoot an Eldritch Blast. The blast itself will look like a high pressure jet of water that cracks too and fro like electricity. The blast will make a hissing sound that can be deafening towards those in close proximity to Kel. It can penetrate light metal and armor with ease however it will struggle with medium plate..

LIMITS ⫻ The water that Kel creates is just normal water. It is useful for putting out fires or creating a slick surface, but overall, she does not have much utility with it. As well, she can only use this form three times per day before she herself starts to feel dehydrated.

The Tentacle summon only lasts for one minute at a time. Thus, if she gets in a prolonged fight, she may have burn both of her granted summons and be without it for the rest of the day.

Kel can not fire off her Eldritch Blast once a minute. Thus, she’ll need to ensure that she is accurate.

WEAKNESSES ⫻ (DO NOT FILL THIS OUT, I WILL PROVIDE IT FOR YOU)

MAIN GOAL ⫻ Lila yearns for a return to the swamp that she calls home. Not only because her family is still there, but because of the connection she felt with the swamp itself. It was as if that place carved out a piece of her soul, and she left it behind to save it.

PHILOSOPHY ⫻ Harmony is achieved through consequences. You can’t expect to enforce everything proactively; sometimes you need a strong and visible consequence to deter future transgressions

SECRETS ⫻ Lila hides her killings well. While she avoids killing unnecessarily and will often only do it if her back is up against the wall, she has killed many people for their crimes against nature. As such, she has a rather large bounty that keeps her moving from place to place.

SEXUALITY ⫻ Queer

FEARS ⫻ Lila is well aware that she has an anger problem, but she has managed to contain the worst of the outbursts till now. She knows that there is another level to her rage she has yet to bring forth, and she fears the person that she might become.

WHAT BROUGHT THEM TO GREYHARROW ⫻ As a person with a bounty, you learn to move from place to place. And as you move from place to place, you learn of possible safe havens. Greyharrow is one of those places. While she does not plan to stay, the harsh climate contains very little in the way of her beloved swamp biome, she did yearn for a break from the sleepless nights and long hours on the road.

WHAT DO OTHERS IN TOWN THINK OF THEM ⫻ The prevailing opinion is that Lila is a fun person to be around, but to be careful. Those who are around crime all their life know the signs that someone is hiding something dangerous, and Lila has ticked many of those boxes.

EQUIPMENT ⫻ Lila has a gnarled swampwood staff. It is twisted, water-worn, and stained a dark color with peat. This staff serves as her druidic focus. As well, she often has a small sickle used for harvesting herbs, fungus, and swamp moss. She has it stapled to their side. For protection, Lila has a standard leather armor that is dyed a green-brown color, and it is patched with strips of reed fiber. Lastly, she has a backpack that contains her rations, pouches for collected ingredients, fifty feet of rope tied to the side, a component pouch, and other necessities for traveling the world.

FLAWS ⫻ Lila is quick to anger and even quicker to violence if the situation demands it. She is also incredibly naive even though she has spent the past few years on the road. She will believe certain obvious lies and often put herself in danger.

Lila Fenroot grew up in an overlooked swamp village on the far outskirts of the human city of Oniburgh. The village was a place that reeked of decay, yet for some reason, Lila developed a strong connection with the swamp itself even from a young age. Where the other kids would walk across the piers and other elevated bridges to navigate Lila would instead cross through the murky, muddy waters themself. Where the other kids saw a stinking mess of a town, Bsaw the fireflies that danced over the water, heard the croaking choirs of frogs, and felt the soft hum of life beneath the mud. As her parents were absent from the family, often working long hours out on the lake, she spent much of her free time exploring and experiencing nature.

It was early on that people began to realize a few things about Lila. First, she was incredibly happy and easy to get along with, and had a brilliant smile. They also noticed that she was a carefree girl who was content playing with the animals versus her fellow villagers. As such, there was always mud on her boots, her hair was tangled with a brush, and everyone found her disarming and oddly charming. That was, until people started abusing the swamp in front of her. As she reached her teenage years, she would often start, and finish fights with people who disrespected the life around her home. Often, these people would say it was like the swamp itself had started to rise up around them as vines grew from nowhere and lashed at them. This led to many realizing that, while Lila was a sweet, young teen who could brighten your day with her smile, she could flip at the drop of a hat and bring more pain than a child should be able to.

By her seventeenth birthday, the eventuality came to fruition. A caravan bearing the insignia of a rather large company based in Oniburg was spotted all day downriver from her village. Within an hour of their presence, the water began to grow cloudy, fish began to float to the surface, and an unnatural odor began to permeate the air. Lila knew right away what was happening and, despite the protest of others, went to confront the culprits. As she approached the campsite, she could see barrels being dumped into the water, and while it did not break the inviting smile that crossed her face, it did bring anger to her voice. This anger only grew as the industrialists laughed at her demands that they leave. They insulted her village, her muddy clothes, and the swamp as a whole. Lila left the camp and pleaded with the swamp to help her drive these invaders out. A nature spirit, who had been following her for a long time, responded and boosted her natural magic. She would return to the camp that night.

A week later, a magistrate, with two bodyguards, arrived at the destroyed campsite. There was nary a trace of those who were here, yet the signs of a fight were evident. Wagons were tossed and turned, with vine-like grooves dug into the wood, strips of clothing could be seen caught in the branches above, and there were weapons strewn across the area. He asked aloud what had happened, and out walked Lila with her infectious smile and arms wrapped in barbed vines. While the magistrate was spared and told to deliver a message that this swamp would kill anyone else who dared to disturb it, the two bodyguards were claimed without Lila needing to raise a hand. Knowing that as long as she resided here, the swamp would face danger, Lila delivered the Magistrate to the outskirts of the city and took off for a life on the run. Before she left, the swamp gifted her a staff that has gone everywhere she has since.

She eventually found her way to a far-flung city known as Greyharrow. She has resided in the city for a week now and plans to move on soon. Lila feels like some part of her is missing out here, and she longs for a return to her swampy home.

Anyyyything else?

TYPE ⫻ Druid - Circle of Land (swamp)

MAGIC ⫻ Lila is a Druid who uses nature magic, poison, and acid to fight.

THORN WHIP ⫻ Lila can conjure a Thorn-laden whip and can use it to lash out at a target. She can either summon the whip into her hand and use it herself or cause one to grow forth from the ground beneath her feet. The thorns on the whip are painful and contain a mild poison that irritates the area it wraps around. Lila will use this tool to pull a target into a more dangerous position or pull them off their feet and open them to strikes. To cast this spell, she will need to grab a single thorn from her component bag and combine it with her own magic.

ENTANGLE ⫻ Like her Thorn-Whip, Lila can grab a thorn from her component bag and use her magic to create a nearly impassible grasping-vine area. The vines will automatically seek out all who enter their fifteen-foot radius and grab at them. When one makes contact, several more will follow up and grab at different spots on the target's body. After the vines have grabbed hold, they will begin to slowly constrict like snakes around an easy dinner, trying to squeeze the life out of a target. Fog Cloud

FOG CLOUD ⫻ Lila can channel her magic through her staff and, upon making contact with the ground, cause a massive Fog Cloud to pour outward. The fog cloud has a radius of one hundred and twenty feet, and often carries a sickly sweet odor with it. This fog cloud is dense and will often be used as a way to mask an approach or allow her to escape an unfavorable situation.

CURRENT WANDS/TOMES/STAFFS ⫻ After she defeated the forces of corruption in her village, the swamp rewarded her with a gnarled swampwood staff. It is twisted, water-worn, and stained a dark color with peat. The staff itself vibrates with a latent magical energy and serves as a conduit for Lila to cast her spells.

LIMITS ⫻ Lila will need components to cast her spells. As such, if someone were to steal her component bag, she would be at a disadvantage in a fight.

The fog cloud is static, and once the final billow of fog happens, she will produce no more for the duration of the day. As well, if a wind hits the cloud, it will quickly force the camouflage barrier apart and reveal all inside.

WEAKNESSES ⫻ (DO NOT FILL THIS OUT, I WILL PROVIDE IT FOR YOU)

MAIN GOAL ⫻ Ed’s main goal is quite simple. They want nothing more than to return to the good graces of her lady. Ever since she critically failed at the raising of her undead construct, her goddesses voice has been missing in her head. Thus, she searches constantly for the final rites of her summon and is currently adhering to the rest of her tenets religiously.

PHILOSOPHY ⫻ Everyone is at a different spot on their journey to the grave. You can dread it, run from it, but death comes for us all. That does not mean that you shouldn’t help others rage against the coming end, and one should do everything they can to either save someone or make them comfortable.

SECRETS ⫻ That they are not a full fledged Cleric of the Circle yet. As they were on their pilgrimage when their goddess went silent, they haven’t completed the tasks required of them to claim that title. They have started to claim it all the same to help survive after arriving at Greyharrow.

SEXUALITY ⫻ Straight-ish

FEARS ⫻ That their connection to their goddess is lost forever. While they still have their magic, and they can still perform all the rites, Ed is afraid they will lose it all if she does not help her summon to the other side.

WHAT BROUGHT THEM TO GREYHARROW ⫻ As soon as her goddess went silent, it is protocol for a Cleric to be declared an apostle by their temple. As such, brothers and sisters of her order are out looking for her to bring her home to answer for her transgression. She needs time to fix her mess, and places like Greyharrow offer anonymity and time.

WHAT DO OTHERS IN TOWN THINK OF THEM ⫻ In town, opinions of Ed are mixed. Their eagerness to help tend to the wounded, pregnant women, the sick, and the elderly is well-liked; yet their persistent undead summon has caused many to mistrust them. People see undead and begin to wonder how long until they’re threatened to join the ranks of skeletons and reanimated corpses. As well, people don’t trust her because she’s a closed book. She gives so little that she might as well not reveal anything about herself.

EQUIPMENT ⫻ Ed carries very little that is practical. While her tome contains her spells and notes on her work, she does not carry a weapon to protect herself in close quarters. Instead, she relies on her undead construct to keep people at bay with its presence alone. Thus, the backpack that she carries with her everywhere she goes contains only tools and ingredients for her craft. Incense, prayer beads, medical supplies, pestle and mortar, and other tools to make her potions.

FLAWS ⫻ If there’s a problem to solve only she can solve it, without help, and without guidance. This is often far from the truth. Even with her order if she gave them the chance it is likely they’d assist and winsome her back into the flock after she served whatever punishment her goddess decided.

Edwina began her life in a town called Last Rest, born to two followers of The Many Faced Goddess. Nestled in a high mountain valley shaped almost like a cupped hand, Last Rest is a place of hardship, adversity, and overcoming it through community. Seasons tend to be exaggerated, with winter being particularly brutal with low temperatures and high amounts of snow. Food scarcity is a particular problem that plagued the area, and the town often faced shortages if winter dragged on for a week too long. Despite this, Edwina had a relatively happy childhood as she was a part of a vibrant community that took care of each other, and respected the cycle of life and death. While she did attend more funerals than any child should, this allowed her to develop an interest in the funeral rites of her people, learn more about the Followers of The Many Faced Goddess, and determine that was a path she wanted to travel down. On the day of her eighth birthday Edwina was taken to the Temple of the Cycle in town and given to the Faith.

The training began at once and last for a full ten years. The training was brutal, focusing on expanding the magical capacity of each recruit and enhancing the endurance to allow for the traveling that would later define their clerical duties. Edwina took to the training well, and devoted herself to mastering the academic, magical, and physical tests that were thrown her way. It was during this time she felt the presence of the goddess for the first time. She came to Edwina in a dream, and commended the young acolyte for their dedication and craft. The Many Faced Goddess’s face mirrored the age of Edwina, and appeared to be a young teen as well. From that moment, Edwina had felt a strong warmth inside the very essence of her soul. A reminder that she was one of her goddesses devout.

On her eightieth birthday Edwina was considered finished with her training. Before she was given the title and status of Cleric of the Cycle, she was sent off to complete a pilgrimage. The pilgrimage was expected to last a year and she would be required to heal someone at every stage of the life cycle, welcome someone to their death, perform a funeral rite thirteen times, summon an undead construct and release it, and finally defeat an infectious, unnatural, or evil form of undead. Six months into this pilgrimage Edwina has completed all but two of those tasks, and she decided to do both at the same time. As such, she located a small vampire colony nestled deep inside an old mine system. Before she engaged them, she knew she needed to raise an undead construct to aid in the fight. She searched for three days before she stumbled on and excavation site that unearthed an ancient battlefield. The creatures appeared to be Aarakocra, and Edwina knew their funeral rites. However, in truth, they were not. When Edwina summoned the creature she realized she made a mistake when she felt the presence of a soul inside the body. Before she could undo her mistake she felt the warmth of the goddess fall from her body, and lost the ability to use necromancy and necrotic spells.

Fear replaced faith, and Edwina fled with an animated construct following close behind. She knew she would be brought in by her order if discovered, andand thus Edwina fled to a place a Cleric of the Cycle rarely travelled to, Greyharrow, and began a new life there. Edwina still holds her faith and belief despite the lack of her goddess, and hopes that if she can return her good graces by still completing her pilgrimage.

TYPE ⫻ Cleric - Cycle Domain

PATRON ⫻ Ed gets their power from the Many-Faced Lady, who imbues Ed with the purpose of respecting and ensuring the cycle of life into death.

TERMS ⫻ Ed follows five tenets for their faith.

Tenet 1: The body is now, the soul is forever.

Cycle clerics believe that the soul passes fully beyond death, leaving behind an empty vessel in their wake. Because of this, animating a corpse is not an act of enslaving a spirit, rather it is recycling what has been left behind. This is the theological foundation for their ability to control the undead without violating their tenets.

Tenet 2: Honor every phase of existence

Each phase of life has meaning, purpose, and sanctity. This tenet guides Ed to help with childbirth, aid those in the middle of their journey, and treat the undead or corpses not as abominations, but as a reflection of a cycle being broken. When Ed finds a broken cycle like a restless dead, shade, or other form of undeath, it is their solemn duty to help them transition to the next stage of existence by whatever means are necessary. A cycle mage thusly does not believe in causing premature death, and will often go out of their way to not kill those they fight. As well, Death is not some scary end that one must rush towards or from, but instead just a part of the Cycle we all go through

Tenet 3: Stewardship of the dead

Even after a soul has completed a cycle, it is the job of a Cycle Cleric to guard the graves and tombs of the undead to ensure that nothing calls a soul back to the mortal plane. They are often spotted chasing down grave robbers, fighting Liches and other undead villains, and traversing the world to ensure that this mission is spread far and wide. These clerics will only create undead constructs responsibly, taking careful precautions to ensure that the soul isn't called home to the body, and will dismiss these constructs respectfully, offering final rites and a proper burial. To them, the undead serve a part in the cycle of life and should never be made to mock it.

Tenet 4: The Cycle must be maintained

The Cycle of Life and Death always hangs in the balance. Too much life can lead to death, and too much death can lead to despair. Thus, a cycle mage must always be proficient in healing and necromancy to ensure that the balance they seek to protect out in the world is also reflected by the magic inside their body. A Cycle Cleric will also intervene when needed if the cycle is thrown out of balance. If a Lich is killing off a population to raise as an undead army, the Cycle needs to be balanced by the death of the Lich. If a mage is using forbidden magic to extend the lives of themselves and their subjects, the cycle needs to be balanced by the death of the mage. A good Cycle mage with thusly heal the dying, but won't prolong the inevitable. Knows that undeath is only tolerated when it serves a purpose to the cycle, and unnatural, infectious, or born of malice forms of undeath, such as Lichs, Vampires, Wights, need to be opposed.

Tenet 5: Return what you borrow

When a Cycle Cleric animates the dead, they incur a debt that must be paid back eventually. A Cycle Mage can animate the dead for various reasons, most often to aid in a larger mission, but the situation can be more complicated. Regardless of the reason why, a ritual must be performed to ensure that the body is honored for its service. This ritual is the debt coming due. It will cleanse the body after use, lay it to rest, honor it's previous life, and ensure that the spirit is never able to return.

MAGIC ⫻

HEALING TOUCH: Edwina is able to break a target with just the touch of her hands. To this she must first pull up her tome, and recite one her healing prayers, and place her hands on a target. Each healing chant will come with a flash of green light that emanates from her hand, and the luminosity determines how strong of a healing spell she used. The first is used for cuts, scrapes, and minor infections. “Mother Of Phases, heed my call. From decay growth, from wound weave whole.” This version of the spell requires very little of her energy to pull off. The second version is used to comfort someone sick, or close to death. It is often informal, but it will always have the weird “hurt turns to peace“. This spell will help take away the pain an individual is feeling, and turns that sensation into one that causes peace and happiness. The duration isn’t long so Edwina will often need to reapply the spell as needed, and as such she can deplete her stamina if she uses this at the wrong time or too soon. The final is her last ditch verse that uses up her entire magical reserve to use.

“The anointment of The Many Faced Goddess is upon you. Today is not your day to die. Into oblivion you shall not pass, for I am the shield of the tomb, the gatekeeper between realms. Arise.”

PURIFY FOOD AND DRINK: Ensuring that one has access to clean food and water is an important aspect to every traveling cleric can stay healthy, and help those in need by giving them water free of toxins and food free from mold and contamination. She’ll either need to place a hand on the food or a container filled with any drinkable liquid and chant, “In the name of The Many, may this food and drink be pure.” Like her healing touch, she’ll radiate a green glow from her hand.

SACRED FLAMEK: Ed can conjure a simple, sacred flame in the palm of their hand. More often than not this is used to generate a little bit of light, yet she can also grab this magic fire and throw it at a target like a ball. The fire quickly dissipates when it hits something so unless something is inflammable, it will not catch alight. She can also conjure this spell out of a single finger if she needs to light a candle or have a little more finesse with the application of the spell.

CURRENT WANDS/TOMES/STAFFS ⫻ Edwina carries a tome with the emblem of her order on the cover. The tome itself is less a magical tool and more of a quick reference guide for how to defeat specific forms of undeath, funeral rites for distant cultures, and a list of the various chants and use cases for them. The tome was written by her and was part of her training to create, and have approved, her very own tome for her magic. There is still a hundred pages that remain empty, but it is her goal to have it fleshed out.

LIMITS ⫻ Edwina has lost all access to her necromancy and necrotic spells. This used to account for most of her offensive abilities and, as it stands her animated undead construct is her only offensive or defensive ability, and the creature seems more than interested in anything other than that.

Edwina will not attempt to heal someone who is already too far gone to heal and will instead focus on making them comfortable. Whereas a Cleric of Life might fight until the light leaves their marks eyes, Edwina will never rob someone of a dignified end to their cycle.

Her magic is potent but it is draining. Prolonged use of this magic will exhaust her quickly.

WEAKNESSES ⫻ (DO NOT FILL THIS OUT, I WILL PROVIDE IT FOR YOU)

Anyyyything else?

MAIN GOAL ⫻ Cali’s goal in life is great: for all women to live life without having to fear violence at the hand of men who view themselves as superior, and for all abusive men to be killed. Preferably by her hand. Beyond that, she would love to find someone for herself. Deep down she yearns to put down her protector assassin mantle and leave civilization entirely: but it isn’t something she can allow herself to do yet.

PHILOSOPHY ⫻ There is no repentance in this world. They strong prey on the weak, and they only bow to those that are stronger- but this bowing doesn’t mean they regret their previous crimes. The only repentance is in death.

SECRETS ⫻ Being a vigilante who kills men who deserve it- rapists, predators, abusers and the like- is something she tends to keep secret. Unfortunately, most people view it as murder. She views it as justice. She also doesn’t tend to share the traumas that led her to where she is now.

SEXUALITY ⫻ Lesbian. Cali loves women, and any man that tries to make a move on her will get shot.

FEARS ⫻ Cali fears being powerless again. She fears the sexual violence that was enacted on her in her youth, even though she’s strong enough to kill anyone who tries now.

WHAT BROUGHT THEM TO GREYHARROW ⫻ Cali is on the run with a bounty on her head, technically. She’s hoping to lay low in Greyharrow until they forget who she is. And she may as well clean up this town while she’s at it.

WHAT DO OTHERS IN TOWN THINK OF THEM ⫻ There are incredibly mixed opinions of Cali. Some like Cali herself for her honesty, her friendliness and how fun she is to drink with. She’s a good person, and great company (to women). Others find her abrasive and forceful- and most men find her mean spirited.

As for ‘The Bringer of Calamity’- her murderous callsign that doesn’t hide her identity anymore- she is feared, hated and loved. There are women who she’s saved from abuse or gotten revenge on behalf of who are thankful for her, but there are even more men (especially those with power) who fear and abhor her.

EQUIPMENT ⫻ Cali carries a longbow with her, and at least twenty arrows in her quiver with many more wherever she’s staying. She has a shortsword she keeps at her belt, though rarely uses. She wears dark leather armour most of the time. Often she’ll have a dark cloak with her. She doesn’t always have her backpack with her, but when she does it's filled with things to help her get high places: a grappling hook, some pitons, and 50 ft of rope attached to the outside along with the standard rations and waterskin. She also has woodcarver’s tools she sometimes brings with her. She also carries a hunting knife, which is never used in combat, only to skin, gut and prepare any animals she hunts.

FLAWS ⫻ While Cali can be charming, she can also be quite forceful. She won’t hold back her opinions, and can be very abrasive. Along with this she often clashes with other big personalities, and will snap at people who try to force their opinions on others while doing the same (especially men). She’s driven by vengeance more than anything, making her often unforgiving and harsh. The harsh life she’s experienced has led her to be jaded and untrusting, rarely fully trusting anyone. At the end of the day, she’s also a misandrist. Her view has been proved correct enough times that she confidently paints all men with the same brush: awful unless proven otherwise. This makes her harsh and meanspirited towards them, unless she’s purposefully turning on the charm. Its a sharp contrast to how friendly she is with other women.

_{CW: Grooming, Sexual Assault}
Ivy Lyrre was the first child of two humans in a small town hidden in the High Forest. What was supposed to be a blessing turned into a curse, the Lyrre couple’s first child born as some form of demonic spawn. One of their ancestors had either laid with or made a deal with a devil, and that resulted in their first child being born a tiefling.

Ivy was ostracised from a young age, in an isolated village which was already suspicious of outsiders beyond their trade connections. This ostracisation only worsened when her brother was born just a year after, a healthy human. Then her sister, also human. They were showered by the love Ivy was never shown by her parents. It was as if she didn’t exist. Multiple times they said they wished she hadn’t been bored. Everyone else in the village shunned the ‘devil child’ too.

But there was one person who didn’t. Harold, one of the best hunters in town and a retired ranger who travelled the continent. He took Ivy under his wing as an apprentice. He brought her into the forest with him, and taught her its ways. First, he taught her how to navigate the forest. How to climb a tree to see where she was, and how to use the stars to tell which direction to go. Scavenging, shelter building, everything she’d need to survive in it. At the same time, he taught her about the ecosystem, and how to track down animals, along with how to skin and prepare them to use every part of them. When she was old enough, he taught her how to use a bow. This fostered a deep connection to nature, and she began to train to be a ranger just like he had been.

Harold gave Ivy the attention and affection she lacked everywhere else in life, without seeming to discriminate against her heritage. She thought it was because he’d travelled beyond the village and seen a variety of people. Harold saw Ivy’s isolation as an opportunity to groom a young girl under the guise of training.

What started as an innocent mentor-mentee relationship, or even a replacement Father for Ivy, changed as she began to grow through puberty. Inappropriate touches that Ivy didn’t understand were wrong, though they made her uncomfortable, and stronger affection that went beyond what she’d seen between her parents and siblings. It culminated in him violating her just after she turned sixteen.

Feeling horrified and disgusted by herself and him, Ivy. She packed what little she had and left the town that had been a reluctant home. The betrayal ran deep. Even though she didn’t entirely understand how wrong what she experienced was, she knew how awful it made her feel.

On that night, Ivy Lyrre died. She chose her own name, a tradition she ironically learned from Harold. She decided to call herself Calamity Harbinger- because it was what she’d bring to Harold when she was strong enough. Or, more simply, Cali.

Cali spent days travelling and living in the forest until she reached Yartar. But it turned out that the world wasn’t all that different from her village. Sure, people were more educated, but Tieflings were still viewed with suspicion by the majority. And many men looked at her with lecherous eyes, some following it with sexual violence towards her. She endured and survived, growing jaded as she realised that someone like Harold wasn’t an exception. She saw the way other women were treated in the poor area of the city, most too weak to fight back. Men were the problem.

She thought about living in isolation in a forest somewhere among nature. But she still yearned for connection with other people that she wouldn’t find in the trees and animals.

When she was eighteen, Cali finally snapped. The man that had forced himself into her bed never woke up, after she shot him through the head. There was no regret or guilt over it. Instead she felt elation. She could fight back.

From there, her life shaped up into what it is now. She’d honed her skills enough as a ranger to get hired for jobs, making money by day while being a vigilante assassin by night. She’d spend weeks or months in a city, forging connections with other women while killing men to protect them. Rapists, predators, abusers, any men committing those acts died to her arrows. She would stalk her targets, ruining their lives until she finally assassinated them. And she discovered her own love for women, dating where she could- though they often didn’t last long. Eventually, she’d move to a new city, spending a long period travelling between wild areas and keeping in touch with nature.

Nobody knew who it was behind the string of murders in each city she went to. She was careful to keep her identity hidden, only killing from the shadows at a distance. Her calling card was ‘the Bringer of Calamity’, but no one knew her full name.

Until a year ago, when she finally returned to the village that she came from. She wanted Harold to see her face when she killed him and finally got her revenge. But he wasn’t the only one. Others saw her, and recognised her. While nobody could connect her to all of the crimes she’d committed, she was connected to enough to have a bounty put on her head.

So she fled to Greyharrow. It would only be a temporary stay until the heat died down… But she’d make the most of her time here anyway.

TYPE ⫻ Ranger (Gloomstalker)

FIGHTING STYLE ⫻ Cali wields a longbow, and is skilled in archery. She excels in sniping from a distance and picking off her foes. If given enough time, she can pinpoint and hit an exact spot with ease- for example, through the eye. Though this kind of precision archery isn’t as viable in a combat situation, it’s her signature for assassinations.

MAGIC ⫻


COMPANION ⫻ Cali has a fox companion called Dev (short for Devastation). Cali found her as a cub abandoned on the streets, and raised her into adulthood. The two share a close bond, though Dev often wanders the street separately to Cali. Dev doesn’t tend to fight humans with Cali, but when she does she’ll often leap up for the softest bit she can get, or tear at legs to try and pull someone to the ground.

CURRENT WEAPONS ⫻ Cali’s primary weapon is a recurve longbow, which she is proficient with. She always ensures her brow, which she carved and strung herself, is kept in perfect condition. She also carries a shortsword, which she isn’t particularly proficient with. She’s learning, and unlikely to be useful with them in combat.

TRAINING ⫻ Cali was trained from a young age by a retired ranger in her village. She continued this training solo after she left, taking long stints alone in thick forests as she travelled.

LIMITS ⫻ As an archer, Cali is limited by range. Her bow is practically useless at any distance shorter than 30 feet, and is strongest from a range of 100 feet to 150 feet.

Cali can only cast Hunter’s Mark once a day unless the current target dies, in which case she can recast it in the same day. She can only have one mark active. At a certain distance (say a target leaves their current city), it’s useless. She has to see the target to mark them.

WEAKNESSES ⫻ The Hunters Mark is a strong ability that will allow Cali to be the feared hunter that they are known to be. However, if Cali has their concentration broken during the spells active duration they will suffer two consequences. The first, a sharp headache will slam into their mind as if the connection snapped like a rubber band. This headache will impact every sense for one minute and put them at a disadvantage in combat, speech, and movement.

Now that she's an adult, Cali is kind of embarrassed by the name she chose for herself. Not enough to change it, though.

MAIN GOAL ⫻ Ransom hopes for a life of leisure. The sellsword route could one day make it a possibility but it’s just so much damn work. He much rather just wed and bed a princess. Preferably a beautiful elf so that there’ll be no threat of icky grays or wrinkles in his lifetime, but hell he’d settle for a barbaric chieftain if the bed’s cushy enough, the wine keeps flowing, and he doesn’t have to join in on any raids.

PHILOSOPHY ⫻ He’ll say anything to get his way. Dogmas, morals, and beliefs exist to be exploited and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with doing so if it gets him ahead. People love hearing that they’re right, and Ransom loves people to believe that he’s on their side. Makes them so much more agreeable. It’s a win-win.

SECRETS ⫻ It doesn’t require that high of an insight check to realize that Ransom is largely superficial. The biggest surprise might be that while it’s undeniable that he’s a slippery, slimy scumbag, the man does have some basic decency. Very. Basic. Just because he’s selfish doesn’t make him heartless. He just doesn’t want a bunch of peasants pestering him when he’s trying to have a good time at the local tavern. Go get some stupid paladin and pray that they don’t smite the whole town because someone botches the sacrament.

Also, he’s not in Greyharrow for the work that he claims to be seeking. More on that later.

SEXUALITY ⫻ He’s no wizard, but Ransom’s been known to cast Knock on boots before. He ain’t a sorcerer, but he can make that Sorcerous Burst with his Thunderclap. He might not have a Wand of Magic Missiles in his pocket, but the mistake is understandable because if he can hit it, he’ll hit it.

FEARS ⫻ Oozes. Responsibility. Mages. Oozes is obvious, what if they got in his nose? Responsibility’s pretty clear, too. Life’s easier when the blame can be pointed somewhere else. Mages, now? That could be considered a bit irrational. Ransom knows that most mages are total little bitches who just wave their hands around, mutter some mumbojumbo, and catch a crossbow bolt to the chest before they can unleash their devastating “make the floor sticky” spell. But then some of them can turn invisible. Control minds. Scry on him when he’s in the john. A strong enough mage could even turn into an ooze. Then what?

Then he’s got a mage in his nose.

WHAT BROUGHT THEM TO GREYHARROW ⫻ Unless there’s a bodacious princess hiding amongst the slackjawed and poxmarked locals then Ransom must only be in this shithole for work. Bodyguard duty, basement rat killing, caravan escorting, dungeon spelunking, whatever gig that comes with some coin up front he’s down to do. Allegedly, anyway. The truth is that Ransom came to town with his work already lined up for him: bounty work.

WHAT DO OTHERS IN TOWN THINK OF THEM ⫻ Beloved, surely, and anyone who says otherwise is just jealous! Okay, not quite. Ransom might be a recent arrival, but this isn’t his first time in Greyharrow. Most people fairly assume that he’s a foppish, playboy loudmouth who’s a bit of a dick but really not worth the price of the rug they’d use to stash his body in. Still, he’s a welcome sight at the Waystone Inn, celebrated for his carousing, his entertaining if largely fabricated stories, and his love for prop bets and gambling despite his nigh legendary bad luck with cards and dice. Outside of that he’s known to have a good swordhand and won’t let someone walk into the obvious pit trap just to get a bigger slice of the treasure.

EQUIPMENT ⫻ Ransom has a once elegant rapier that has long lost its luster, a dagger on his belt, and another in his boot. He also has a hand crossbow and will always claim to have at least twenty bolts despite what empirical evidence might say otherwise. He protects himself with some polished but battered half-plate armor, which is like plate armor but instead of getting full coverage he instead has some severe vulnerabilities that aren’t protected because he can’t afford to pay for it–just like in real life! He has a visored helm as well to protect the moneymaker or to serve as an uncomfortable but portable footrest. Ransom has a noticeable lack of practical equipment such as torches, flint, rope, emergency rations, backpacks, bedrolls, and so on because that’s for the help to carry.

FLAWS ⫻ No. He’s perfect*

Originally the heir apparent to the noble Labelle family, Ransom was groomed for excellence. He was educated by the most brilliant tutors, trained by the finest of swordsmen, and taught etiquette by just an utterly–ugh–just the most annoying and snooty old halfling he’s ever met named Mrs. Marmsdale. Then at some point in his teens he started sparkling in places he hadn’t shined before and his dad got all mad at his mom. The court mage (who was an absolute prick) did some magic malarky and, well, one beheading, a second marriage, and a successful pregnancy later and suddenly Ransom was no longer the heir.

And it was such a relief!

Sure, at first Ransom was considering the absolute classic “blanket-in-the-crib” tech for reclaiming his birthright, but then he reconsidered. From what Ransom had been shown, running a fiefdom was actually totally awful. His dad’s entire day was just spent listening to dirty, stinky peasants complain about the dumbest of things–”ohhhh, it didn’t rain and now I can’t eat”, “ooooh, oooh, my money was stolen by this guy dressed all in black and now I can’t pay my taxes”, “oooh, oooh, ooooh, goblins murdered my whole family”–like, what a bunch of losers! Now Ransom could just be rich. Plus, he didn’t have to suffocate a baby and that little asshole could deal with all those annoying poors instead. What a sucker.

Then his uncle on his mother's side had to get involved, making some big hubbub about justice and holy vengeance and how his nephew was the rightful heir and for some reason a bunch of these stupid peasants also got all mad about it. Suddenly oops, there’s a succession crisis. Now, there are two ways to go about such a problem. The first is to go back to that blanket tech, but when the target’s not a baby but a manbaby that gets a bit tough. The second is a civil war, which typically aren’t very fun and/or chill. However, Ransom found the super secret third option that nobody told him about: just leave. Run away. Beat feet. Turns out with no other interested heir present there can’t be a succession crisis.

Problem solved.

He later heard whilst he was traipsing around as a sellsword that his uncle was also beheaded. After a few years of proper “adventuring” (which was mostly just drinking, gambling, and bedroom delving), a nearly broke Ransom made his grand return home. He was certain that everything had calmed down and if he couldn’t move back into his old room he could at the very least get some allowance. As it turns out, those goblins ended up actually being a much bigger problem than they had seemed, and the whole “family murder” thing was still very much their bag.

Ransom no longer had an allowance he could collect and the goblins had turned his old room into a shrine for some Nomog-Gewhatever, so it was back to adventuring. The only problem was that without having a pocket full of platinum to go along with his silverspoon it turned out that he had to actually give it a proper go this time. Any success Ransom had over the years was almost always immediately met with a setback–definitely none of them ever by his own fault ever, it was a surefire bet, he just got unlucky. Either way, he never quite made it.

When times got tough, and they got tough often, Ransom always found himself slunking back to Greyharrow. It’s hard to say what drew him to the place. Perhaps it’s because it’s one of the first towns he visited when he’d initially set out and he just liked the vibe. Perhaps it’s because he’s madly in love with Liliana Scratch despite (or because of) how much she freaks him out. Or maybe it’s because it’s a town full of big, beautiful bounties and once he’s established himself he can trick a group of them to go score some phony treasure just over in them ruins yonder and then have the crew of hirelings he’d posted up there beforehand make some rocks fall. Score all of those bounties in one easy, flawlessly planned go.

But then, boom, bang, space. Maybe he just isn’t unlucky; maybe he’s cursed. Either way the plan’s scrapped. And what about poor little hirelings outside of town. Did they get unmade in the reality warping whateverthefuck? Are they still in those ruins, freezing with their thumbs up their asses, thinking that they’ve been played? Does he care? Should he?

Eh.

At least he didn’t pay them up front.

The estate Ransom grew up on was named Labelle Gardens. The goblins are still there. They’ve renamed it to Gobelle Gardens. It has become a goblin paradise. Mrs. Marmsdale still resides there and has taught them all how to be proper, real fancylike goblins.

TYPE ⫻ Fighter (Battle Master)

FIGHTING STYLE ⫻ Ransom is a dexterious duelist, overwhelming his opponents with a flurry of quick thrusts, fancy footwork, and the occasional poor sportsmanship. He views a fight as much of a mental war as it is a physical one, trying to make his foes fumble while punishing their blunders with precision. Ransom would rather score a dozen wounds than gamble on a deathblow that would overextend himself; an infection or a slow bleed out kills a man just as well as a blade. Ransom is a southpaw, preferring to wield a rapier over other swords, and tends to fight with one hand open to allow for improvisation. He might pull out the occasional parrying dagger if he needs to fight defensively, but when steel is dancing Ransom prefers being the one who leads.

CURRENT WEAPONS ⫻ Ransom’s go to weapon is a silvered rapier that has begun to tarnish around the guard. For someone so full of himself, he’s frustratingly able to back up any boasts he might make about his skill with a blade. Ransom has picked up various feints and flourishes, allowing him to use his finesse to disarm an opponent or distract their attention to allow him to hit them where they don’t expect it.

His daggers are fairly run-of-the-mill and often disposable, used primarily in his offhand to parry blades and give himself an opportunity to riposte with his rapier. They have been balanced to be thrown, and coupled with a standard handcrossbow he hides beneath his cloak they can be used to take a sudden cheapshot at a short range.

However, the most dangerous weapon that Ransom wields beside his rapier is the improvised one. A barstool makes for a great sword catcher and a slightly worse club. An oil lantern is a mundane man’s firebolt. A cape might seem impractical in a fight, but throw it at some chap's head and Ransom has suddenly cast the Darkness spell without having to sign his soul away to burn in the Nine Hells.

TRAINING ⫻ Ransom was trained by the finest of swordmasters that a lesser noble family could afford. Ransom learned to fight drunkenly just outside of the tavern or at dawn with nobody present but his foe and their seconds.

LIMITS ⫻ Ransom lacks any real long range options. His hand crossbow travels the furthest, but its accuracy and potency falls off beyond ten paces. Ransom does not have a good answer when it comes to dealing with a large group of enemies. Often, his best option is either to run or find a way to force the mob to funnel themselves into a chokepoint so he can engage them one at a time.

WEAKNESSES ⫻ Ransom may be a dexterous duelist, but his degrading armor and short weaponry leave him exposed to many different avenues that lead towards death. For starters, he is going to be weak at range to true ranged opponents, and a heavy bolt will often find a way to crash through the gaps in his armor if his luck is not present. As well, he will need to keep himself within range of his opponents to truly strike. Thus, while skilled, he may find himself at a disadvantage if he faces more than two targets at a time. He is also especially weak against magic-based casters at range; however, if he can close the distance, their lack of armor shall make it easy for him to engage.

MAIN GOAL ⫻ (To explore all there is to see of Faerrun on his grand pilgrimage.)

PHILOSOPHY ⫻ (To truly live you must stand I rather die standing than kneel and wait for piss to flow.)

SECRETS ⫻ (Nothing)

SEXUALITY ⫻ (Straight)

FEARS ⫻ (Losing the people he cares about)

WHAT BROUGHT THEM TO GREYHARROW ⫻ (To continue his goal of exploring all of Faerrun.)

WHAT DO OTHERS IN TOWN THINK OF THEM ⫻ (The people consider Latrom honorable and benevolent for his oath and the fact that he goes around healing those in need.)

EQUIPMENT ⫻ Latrom has in his possession thick leather armour (traditional suit suit), a holy symbol (interlocked knot pendant), a waraxe and a shield.

FLAWS ⫻ (Latrom lacks creativity and flexibility, he will fail to see other ways of solving problems other than the most obvious and will not bend on his morals even if it kills him.)

Latrom Lyve was born in a family of goliath aboriginals of the main continent, holding ancestral knowledge of the land His father mastered the ancestral knowledge of botany often prepared medicine to prevent or cure any illnesses that he may catch, his mother experienced in geology and ecology navigated the land with confidence predicting water, shelter and animal migratory locations. In his early years he was taught the ancestral knowledge about how to find and identify if a plant was poisonous or edible, if the animal tracks were carnivorous or herbivorous and how to find water and shelter based of geographical landmarks and features.

In his early teenage years his parents increased the distance they traveled while lowering the rest frequency to temper Latrom's body and mind with vigorous travel, his father sympathetic of his plights slowed the traveling pace every so often to teach ancestral knowledge. A few years later he completely adapted, however with his mind no longer struggling with the tempering he spent the rest of his teenage years lost in thought about his morals and listening to his parents tell stories about their pilgrimage.

At the age of 20 he proclaimed his intent to go on a pilgrimage as well, his parents expressed their approval as long as he could hunt a magic beast. He spent many months tracking down a beast to prove his readiness with his parents guidance and at the beginning of spring he went to hunt an earth ox, leader of a herd. Having succeeded in this hunt at the age of 20 he set out on his pilgrimage to explore the continent he calls home, with the parting gifts of a traditional suit and Interlocked knot pendant lovingly made from the mighty ox he hunted.

Latrom on his pilgrimage carrying a war-axe and shield on his back and wearing his parent's parting gifts. He contently explored the land of Moonshine Isles for a full year seldomly stopping at towns to sell the hides and medicinal herbs he gathered on his travels, contract equipment repairs and travel overseas to places like the "Lantan" in the "Trachless Sea" through merchant vessels.

Latrom nearing the end of his pilgrimage seven years later in the capital city "Sambar" of "Lantan", having exploring the majority of Faerrun's land he affectionately swears the oath of ancients, dreaming of all the wondrous sights around the world he has and will see.

After returning from "Lantan" through a merchant vessel he arrived at a fishing town called Actara and found an inn called the "Warming Hearth". The inn-keeper, a dwarven monk bartered with him saying "I can give you three silver pieces for the deer hide, five copper for the two rabbit hides and two silver for the two pound pouch of herbs." Latrom accepted and asks."Any noteworthy towns or locations to see on my pilgrimage? "

The inn-keeper enthusiastically said "The city of Grayharrow where an arcane tower resides, it is protected by a magical defenses no one has been able to get past for decades!"Latrom, although not interested in breaking through the barrier was curious about what it looked like asking. "Where is Grayharrow?"

The inn-keeper told him that one hour travel eastward lies a river leading north to Grayharrow. He arrived at Greyharrow town eight years after he set out, planning to see the arcane tower with his own eyes.

_{WARLOCK, CLERIC, & PALADIN:
^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}}

"They adorn their armor and clothing with images of growing things-leaves, antlers, or flowers-to reflect their commitment to preserving life and light in the world."

TYPE ⫻ Paladin

PATRON ⫻ Following the Oath of Ancients

TERMS ⫻ The tenets of the Oath of the Ancients have been preserved for uncounted centuries. This oath emphasizes the principles of good above any concerns of law or chaos. Its four central principles are simple.

Kindle the Light. Through your acts of mercy, kindness, and forgiveness, kindle the light of hope in the world, beating back despair.

Shelter the Light. Where there is good, beauty, love, and laughter in the world, stand against the wickedness that would swallow it. Where life flourishes, stand against the forces that would render it barren.

Preserve Your Own Light. Delight in song and laughter, in beauty and art. If you allow the light to die in your own heart, you can't preserve it in the world.

Be the Light. Be a glorious beacon for all who live in despair. Let the light of your joy and courage shine forth in all your deeds.

MAGIC ⫻

Will of Healing



[Vision of Will] ⫻



CURRENT WANDS/TOMES/STAFFS ⫻ Latrom carries the holy symbol of the interlocking knot, a simple gift his parents gave him in the hope that his good deeds will come around.

LIMITS ⫻ Latrom can perceive good and evil presence within a 60ft radius, however past 15ft he must make eye contact to view their presence.
His ability to heal only affects those with the ability to naturally heal on their own and/or an independent mind.

WEAKNESSES ⫻ While Latrom can heal, he must leave himself completely exposed to do so. The healing process can vary depending on the type of wound it is healing, and to heal, he must constantly channel this magic. Thus, if a target were to send a strike his way, he would find himself at a disadvantage when defending against it. He will be exposed, and this can be exploited. Latrom must find the right time to heal, as the strength of his ability is only limited by how long it might take.

While Latrom can determine the presence of both good and evil, he will often struggle when confronted with incredibly strong good and evil. The visual and audio indications he receives will be sent to overdrive if he activates this spell in the presence of a devil or an Archon. An overwhelming assault of the senses will beset him. It will be debilitating, at least at the start, and as Latrom grows stronger, he will grow more able in this ability.

MAIN GOAL ⫻ Grask wants to further his skills as an artificer. He's accomplished much so far, but the next step in his career is to pursuit an expertise in the field of Battle Smithing, the creating of autonomous beings that perform tasks on behalf of a master. He hopes to merge the principles of one field with his own, and make breakthroughs to build what others before him could not.

PHILOSOPHY ⫻ Success must be earned. It must be taken from the jaws of defeat, and one must be smart in how they do so. Grask earned his place in life through blood, sweat, and tears. There was no luck in it, he worked for what he has.

SECRETS ⫻ The methods which he uses to develop his unique bullets is something Grask guards jealously. There are many people out there who would love the ability to create unique enchantments for their armies that don't require a whole new cannon, from royalty to mercenary companies near and far. It put him on the map, and he's not about to let someone else figure it out to snub him. Also, Grask lacks the ability to breathe fire like other red Dragonborn. It’s embarrassing, so he doesn’t talk about it.

SEXUALITY ⫻ Pansexual

FEARS ⫻ Failure. Indignant, shameful, ruinous failure. Grask has something to prove, and gods help him, he will.

WHAT BROUGHT THEM TO GREYHARROW ⫻ Grask was working on new research to advance his craft when the tower erupted. He had stopped in Greyharrow to rest and was planning to be on his way afterwards. But now, he's stranded alongside everyone else.

WHAT DO OTHERS IN TOWN THINK OF THEM ⫻ Grask just got here hours ago, he doesn't know any of you.

EQUIPMENT ⫻ Grask always carries his artifice gear with him wherever he goes, as well as some basic essentials for travel; A flask, his toolkit, some lightweight leather armor, and note-taking implements. He also carries a variety of raw materials with him wherever he goes, such as small slivers of the astral monsters that wash up on Greyharrow or any precious rocks that someone finds.

FLAWS ⫻ Pride drives Grask's ambitions. The easiest way to make him do something big and daunting is to say that he can't. It's what led him to become an Artillerist, it's what drove him to make a journey for new materials in the dead of winter, and it's what keeps him going. But it has also led him to some reckless decisions, either out of desperation or pure spite against the odds.

Grask was born near the kingdom of Fellwyn, among a clan of Dragonborn who lived in the wilderness. They hunted their food and lived off of what nature provided, and so every day was a day filled with work and hard labor. They lived in mountains rife with monstrous beasts of all shapes and sizes, it was dangerous to stray far from home. His father was a blacksmith, his mother was a hunter, and each of his three older siblings were more useful than him in their own ways. Grask was the fourth child, and as if fate had a sense of humor, he was shorter and weaker than them. Not as tall, not as stout, not as capable of stoking flame as his red Dragonborn father. It was a miracle he even survived his first winter, his brothers used to joke his heart wouldn't beat of its own accord until he was a day old.

He eventually got healthy enough, as he grew older, that he could keep up with everyone. But he was always the underachiever. Grask was never the best bowman, never the best healer or gardener. The older generations of his community were often more disappointed in him than proud. There were arguments over dinner, lectures every day about how he had to pull his own weight. One of his brothers once told him he wasn't ever wanted.

One day, he got tired of it. So he grabbed his things and left in the dead of night. He set out for Tulerros, the capital city of Fellwyn, when he was barely a teenager by human standards. With some gold that he'd scraped together, Grask found a place to stay and decided he'd learn to make things. Kingdoms all over the world were making breakthroughs in technology, and there just happened to be an enclave of Artificers in the city. So he offered himself up to them as an apprentice. It wasn't glamorous, or even very informative. For a whole year, the most he did was read books in a library and handle logistical work. It kept him fed, though. And eventually, his master concluded Grask was competent enough at intellectual endeavors that he'd be able to grasp the craft.

And grasp it he did.

Within two years of study, he cultivated an incredible understanding of weapons, the classical schools of magic and machinery. The young Dragonborn threw himself at it relentlessly, going days without sleep and burning himself more than a few times to master a given subject. He even built a few devices without the oversight of his seniors. In time, he was whipped into the shape of a competent Artificer, no longer an apprentice but an equal among the older members of the enclave. But time wasn't kind to all of them, for as Grask grew up, they grew old.

Veltavi the Alchemist retired at the age of 142. Rozaru Brightwind of Grimhall was called home by an old friend. And Grask's teacher, Brathzeon, passed from the world to meet his creator. The surviving masters had, before their departure, made the decision to put Grask in charge of the workshop. Each of them had their own apprentices, but of them, only Grask intended to stay in Tulerros. They had other dreams, their own adventures and prospects. One by one, they eventually struck out on their own under Grask's temporary guidance. Until eventually, at an age when most human would almost be considered young adults, he had the place to himself.

Anyyyything else?

TYPE ⫻ Artificer / Artilierist

MAGIC ⫻ Grask doesn’t cast spells with a wand or a tome. Rather, he channels magical principles into machinery to create tools that can consistently perform the same “spell” over and over again. His inventions can, with some training, be used by anyone regardless of magical skill. And with the right materials and tools, Grask can build something to match just about any spell a traditional caster can perform. Every time, with mechanical precision.

CURRENT TOOLS ⫻

ARCANE AMMUNITION Grask’s iconic work is the ammunition he creates. Using special components, metals and small-scale spellwork, he can create ammunition that delivers an effect from a distance. The process is flexible enough to encompass various effects, which only need to be learned by Grask before he can copy them.



MANABLASTER ⫻ A large, hefty pistol with a break-action loading mechanism. The gun is designed to accept a wide variety of ammunition, and due to the size of the ammo, it only holds one shot at a time.

SOTERIAN GAUNTLET ⫻ A metal brace lined with mechanical components. The gauntlet produces a barrier of magical energy, in the shape of a five foot square, that can reflect a few attacks before crumbling. These barriers are stationary, and fixed in place when created.

LIMITS ⫻ Grask requires specific materials for his work, and the materials currently found in Greyharrow are of an impure quality. What he can find in the city isn't worthless, and can be used, but they aren't perfect. As such, until better quality components can be found, his power is limited.

WEAKNESSES ⫻ WEAKNESSES ⫻ Grask’s devices will work profusely normal in normal situations, however, they will experience a complete disruption to their ability in certain situations. When magic behaves unpredictably, such as wild magic zones, if there is planar interference, or if he honestly expletives a strong emotional surge his inventions will suffer a partial or total failure.

This will manifest in one of two ways. A spell could either downgrade, or misfire. A downgraded spell will be less powerful, impactful, and could potentially do no damage if the round was fired during these scenarios. As well, if Grask has a higher level spell bullet, if the downgrade is strong enough his spell will fail to fire.

MAIN GOAL ⫻ Calaríssë’s goal in life is to learn, laugh, dance, sing and otherwise have a good time of it since she’s likely to be stuck her for another few centuries. She’s already well established in her craft and her only major ambition is not dying on some rock hurtling between the planes of reality.

PHILOSOPHY ⫻ Calaríssë is skeptical of ambition, seeing mostly the harm it does - people making one another miserable - where the common things in life: food, company, love, music, dance and beauty are everywhere around them. That ultimately the goal of any being in this world is to leave the world, and the people touched by them, better for their passing through it. That being said, her vengeance is a thing to behold.

SECRETS ⫻ Calaríssë has few ghosts in her past. Time, among largely mortal company, has covered over most of her most egregious youthful indiscretions. The closest thing to a secret she keeps is that her naturally upbeat outward positivity masks a deep cynicism in the world often only sees outlet in her music.

SEXUALITY ⫻ Calaríssë is quite flexible in her interests.

FEARS ⫻ Failing to live up to her expectations of herself. Failing to stand up for right or good. The nagging fear of whether this life she’s chosen for herself is truly all there is, or the best use of her life, her gifts and talents.

WHAT BROUGHT THEM TO GREYHARROW ⫻ It was supposed to be a six day gig before moving on. Entertain for a couple nights. Free drinks. Meet new people and share stories over hearth and fire. And now…

WHAT DO OTHERS IN TOWN THINK OF THEM ⫻ She’s The Bard

EQUIPMENT ⫻ Calaríssë travels with a fine white elven stallion named Addring, who despite being an excellent mount, is most often found harnessed to the small two-wheeled carriage that carries most of her belongings. This includes her prized collection of instruments. She travels with a trunk of clothing collected over the years that range from practical travel wear, to elaborate courtly fashion, to quite colourful and bizarre costuming. Calaríssë possesses no classic elven bow but while rarely seen, she does possess an exquisite ancient elven blade Isilfang forged by lost elven techniques, such that it glows faintly under the light of a full moon.

FLAWS ⫻

Lairëcúma the Bard was born Calaríssë Thalanriel, youngest child of the great high elven lord, Thalanor. Her early life was spent much like many young elves, running through the secluded glades of the elven forest city, being trained in the arts befitting a young elven lady. Her musical talent was spotted early, and she was provided tutors and encouraged as such pursuits were considered fine and proper for a young woman of her station, eventually securing herself a placement at a young age - for an elf - in the very demanding Coa i Quingo musical Guild, under some of the most renowned elven court musicians. There were high hopes for the young woman at this time.

This was a difficult period in Calaríssë’s life. As she grew older it wasn’t merely the strictures of her station, but elven life in general that disagreed with her and grated upon others. Calaríssë loved to meet new people, spoke openly with others and in short, possessed none of the graceful reserve befitting a high elf. Elven life was cloistered, there was a certain warmth among close family and friends - but being open, approaching others, speaking with any sort of familiarity: it bore ill upon her family and frankly, the other elves she approached seemed just as put off that their lord’s daughter would approach them so brazenly.

Her life within the guild itself was worse. That same need she felt, like the need for breath or life itself made the rigid forms and styles of elven courtly music feel too constrained. For Calaríssë, musical was about expression, about joy, about improvising new and varied tones that pleased in the moment - yet this was not the crystalline perfection her teachers expected and demanded. It felt like a slow suffocation, and her breaks from endless practice into variations was sternly rebuked as a corruption of the art. In the end Calaríssë feuded openly with her teachers and was eventually tossed out of the guild, despite her admitted talent - it wasn’t her talent that had failed, she was told, but her lack of discipline.

Calaríssë return from the guild was warm enough, but yet she could sense her family’s subtle disappointment as they tried to integrate their failure of a daughter back into courtly life. Tried to arrange suitors. Find some other pursuit to occupy her time - but it was always her failed, unwanted, and broken music that called back to her. Despite being advised, in good faith, to set aside this failed experiment and apply herself to other matters - she had such a long life to live, perhaps she might return to it someday - none of it appealed to her.

Calaríssë took to the woods often, and there - despite warnings of danger - came to encounter outsiders. Contrary to her people’s warning that outsiders were unpredictable, potentially dangerous, and certainly not to be trusted: Calaríssë found the mortal races she encountered far more kin to her spirit than her own people. People who within a few minutes of meeting a person might share a fire, and laugh and sing and talk about themselves and one another - and didn’t mind if a song was not sung a certain way, every note perfectly arranged according to principles of music theory. They didn’t care if she told off-key jokes, or made faces when she played.

This all became some scandal at court. Of course it wasn’t approved. Several times she was banned from the woods. Several times she snuck away anyway. Out of the woods even, into the surrounding towns, only for one of her brothers to appear and demand her return.

Eventually she fell in love with some player with a travelling acting troupe and what transpired was not pretty and terribly embarrassing to think back upon. All the worse for her family’s worse fears and protestations coming to pass. It was a disaster of course. The fair young man that had been her fancy, was far too fond of his wine - and his women - it turned out. The breakup was even uglier than when she’d run away from home.

It turned out there was a market for her talents, and the road promised the sort of musical and performance freedom - and acceptance - she’d long sought. Years passed, along with many personal and professional partnerships that grew up, as familiar names and faces grew old and faded away. Calaríssë became a distant memory.

Lairëcúma The Bard, was far happier, far more at peace with herself than the girl, Calaríssë had ever been. As decades shifted into centuries she began to see the trajectory of her life passing forward into the Great Beyond that awaited all elves upon their calling. She even returned to her family, finding welcome as the prodigal daughter returned - even finding some measure of acceptance, as a musician, from her former teachers who seemed interested in the things she had heard, and learned upon her great sojourn. But the road had called.

And that would have been that had she not stopped in Greyharrow. Six days, free room and drinks, and a steady stream of audience. It was familiar. What could possibly go wrong? And then the tower had exploded and now nothing she’d assumed was any longer certain.

TYPE ⫻ Bard

MAGIC OR FIGHTING STYLE ⫻

In terms of fighting style, Calaríssë prefers to avoid combat if possible, remaining nimble, out-of-reach, taking opportunities where they come. Using her sword, Isilfang to ward off attackers while bolstering her allies. Despite abhorring violence, if it comes to it, she does not greatly prize an honourable fight and is entirely willing to fight dirty.

Bardic Music Calaríssë’s primary training involves weaving subtle enchantments into her music. Masters can create a variety of effects, but in battle Calaríssë can imbue subtle effects to bolster her allies, or disrupt her enemies.

When Calaríssë performs inspiring songs, her allies may find themselves just a little bit better than they might otherwise be. An enemy might find themselves distracted by her cutting remarks, or goaded into trying to shut up that stupid bard.

Minor Illusion Calaríssë can create a sound or an image of an object within 30ft that lasts for up to 1 minute.

A sound can range in volume from a whisper to a scream. It can be your voice, someone else’s voice, a lion’s roar, a beating of drums, or any other sound you choose. The sound continues unabated throughout the duration, or you can make discrete sounds at different times before the spell ends.

An image can be no larger than a 5-foot cube. The image can’t create sound, light, smell, or any other sensory effect. Physical interaction with the image reveals it to be an illusion, because things can pass through it.

Prestidigitation Calaríssë can create a variety of magical effects within 5ft:
An instantaneous, harmless sensory effect, such as a shower of sparks, a puff of wind, faint musical notes, or an odd odor.
You instantaneously light or snuff out a candle, a torch, or a small campfire.
You instantaneously clean or soil an object no larger than 1 cubic foot.
You chill, warm, or flavor up to 1 cubic foot of nonliving material for 1 hour.
You make a color, a small mark, or a symbol appear on an object or a surface for 1 hour.
You create a nonmagical trinket or an illusory image that can fit in your hand and that lasts until the end of your next turn.
If you cast this spell multiple times, you can have up to three of its non-instantaneous effects active at a time, and you can dismiss such an effect as an action.

COLLEGE ⫻ Calaríssë studied her craft primarily at the Coa i Quingo, the very prestigious musical guild of the Valarínë elves, studying directly under the venerated Master Curufinwë Feanor. The elven music guild focusses greatly on emphasizing a musician’s core skills of performance and imbuing them with subtle enchantment effects. Of course, before being ejected from the guild for, more or less, refusing to adhere to the strictures of elven musical tradition it was Curufinwë who commented that she seemed spiteful of her gifts, eschewing beauty for ugliness describing her style as Lairëcúma - ‘the song mocker’ performing intentionally in ways meant to undermine rather than uplift.

CURRENT WEAPONS/TOMES/STAFFS ⫻ Dagger. Rapier wit. Also a rapier.

TRAINING ⫻ Calaríssë was taught both under her Guild and by her family according to high elven traditions, emphasizing things like languages - needlework for highborn ladies - as well as certain martial skills. These were never a great priority for Calaríssë but she was forced to train to high elven ‘minimum standards’. As such she’s proficient in mounted riding along with use of both sword and bow.

LIMITS ⫻ To use her bardic music ability, Calaríssë has to actually be able to come up with a song, on the fly. If she (or I) can’t, then obviously there’s no music or effect. Obviously it doesn’t work if she can’t speak or those targeted can’t hear her either. She also has to maintain concentration on what she’s performing - not always easy while in battle.

WEAKNESSES ⫻ Bardic Music: Calaríssë must be consistent during her performance, otherwise she runs the risk of the opposite effect happening. If she misses a note, plays out of tune, or has an otherwise lackluster performance, her allies may feel sluggish, her enemies may be invigorated, and she may become the target of capture, as her enemies wish to keep her around for her continued performance.

MAIN GOAL ⫻ Lucky's main goal in life is to live by the Winch family motto: Help folks wherever danger or oppression can be found. He feels tremendous guilt for welding a power he believes has no right to possess, and using it for the betterment of others brings him some inner peace

PHILOSOPHY ⫻ We live in a cruel, uncaring, and unforgiving world. Suffering is rampant and even the most powerful and well meaning Gods are unable to stop even a fraction of it. The only way for things to ever get better is for us to band together and help each other to the best of our ability. In a cruel world, you can't do it alone.

SECRETS ⫻ Lucky is very secretive about his past as a bandit, as he's still rather ashamed of himself for it. The only one who knows that he once was one is Gulda, and even she doesn't know any details

SEXUALITY ⫻ Bisexual. He gave up on love a long time ago (although the right person might change his mind), but when trying to get laid, he seeks both men and women.

FEARS ⫻ Lucky fears himself more than anything else. He no longer trusts himself & believes that every good deed he does is in spite of his nature as a horrible person. He is incredibly distant, crass, and impolite to everybody because he's scared of letting people get to close to him. However, he always sticks up for someone who's being picked on, because he also fears complicity by being a bystander.

WHAT BROUGHT THEM TO GREYHARROW ⫻ Lucky came to help as many people survive the harsh conditions of Greyharrow, as he knew it's an area with a lot of people in need. The absence of many firearms certainly helped the decision.

WHAT DO OTHERS IN TOWN THINK OF THEM ⫻ Most people generally try to avoid Lucky and only know him as "That crazy drunk mercenary who talks weird and always fights with Gulda". Their late night drunken brawls always draw a crowd and some residents have made a small fortune taking bets on the outcome. Despite these brawls, they're always drinking together the following night. Usually Gulda is in fact the only person who drinks with Lucky at the tavern. However, the few who have hired his services, or seen him stomping out a would-be mugger or rapist on one of his drunken stumbles back to his hut know that underneath his rude exterior is a core of genuine warmth and compassion.

EQUIPMENT ⫻ Lucky typically wears a set of leather armor underneath a coat or poncho, and fights with a cheap shortsword. He travels with an explorer's pack, a set of Tinker's tools, his hat, his boots, a 6-shot revolver and a repeating rifle, both with the barrels removed. These guns act as reminders of his past, and he refuses to repair them, as he no longer sees himself worthy of using a gun again.

FLAWS ⫻ Lucky is a heavy drinker and an even heavier smoker. His vices have a powerful grip on him, and every moment not spent drinking is usually spent smoking, rolling cigarettes, or craving a cigarette. He is also incredibly quick to anger at any situation he deems to be cruel, unfair, or not right, and if not physically held back, he will always try to intervene, even when doing so would be unwise. He also has incredibly low self-esteem from his inner guilt, and will lash out aggressively at even the slightest insult or rude remark.

Lucky hails from a far away land that he refuses to speak the name of, only referring to it as "The Old Frontier". It was a harsh, desert environment of small, interconnected towns. Born Bartholomew Winch, he belonged to the venerated Winch Clan, a large nomadic family of Tabaxi gunfighters known for helping whoever they came across, living by the motto of "Helpin' folks wherever danger or oppression can be found. Lucky was a natural born sharpshooter and many thought he was destined to be the next head of the clan. However, he constantly butted heads with Clan elders, wanting them to be more confrontational in resisting the bankers and businessmen who made life hell for the average farmers and ranchers.

Then, in his teenage years, he met a bandit named Rain, and it was love at first sight. They ran away together and started a gang, pulling of small-scale jobs against caravans owned by the rich and powerful. Life was perfect. He got to use his skills more freely than he was when he had to take orders from the Winch elders, he was still taking on the oppressors of the poor, and he got to do it all with the love of his life. Then one day, he made the mistake of robbing the caravan of a banker with a previous grudge against the Winches. Furious, he gathered the largest posse the Frontier had ever seen to hunt down Bartholomew's gang, and when they did, it was a massacre. Lucky was the only survivor, and the last thing he saw before capture was his beloved dying from a gunshot in his arms, unable to do anything to save them. In jail, Lucky was devastated. He realized how selfish he was being. How little he actually cared about resisting those rich bastards. He was in it for the thrill, the fun. It spit in the face of everything the Winch Clan stood for, and he couldn't me more ashamed. The life he threw everything away for was gone in violent fashion, what was he going to do now? Eventually, he decided on an answer: Atone. With a newfound vigor for life, he took a new name, escaped and headed west, eventually finding himself in Faerun.

Anyyyything else?

TYPE ⫻ Fighter (Gunslinger)

FIGHTING STYLE ⫻ Lucky relies on a power known as "The Focus". Nobody knows what it is or where it came from. But the Winch Clan has been using it to forge their legacy as formidable gunslingers for generations. When The Focus is activated, a Winch's eyes appear "glazed over like a dead fish" and their breathing is slow and methodical. The Focus can be applied passively or one can center their concentration on something specific to pull off trick shots.

• Passive Application: Evasive Technique is the easiest and simplest application. When The Focus is active, and Lucky is not centering his concentration, he is slightly more attune to his surroundings, making it easier to predict enemy movements and take proper evasive maneuvers, which pairs incredibly well with his natural agility.
• Active Application: Deadeye Shot Technique is the Winch Clan's signature ability. When The Focus is active and lucky is centering his concentration on a target, he can use The Focus to boost his accuracy and make seemingly impossible shots.
• Active Application: Forceful Shot Technique requires Lucky to center his concentration on his hand's grip on the gun handle while The Focus is active, this increases the concussive force of the bullet, blowing a medium sized creature 15 feet away with a single shot.

CURRENT WEAPONS ⫻ Lucky has a 6-shot revolver and a repeating rifle from his life as a Winch gunfighter, but he has removed the barrels out of shame. Without it, he typically fights with a cheap swortsword and an even cheaper buckler.

TRAINING ⫻ Lucky has been shooting guns ever since he was old enough to hold one, so he's an expert sharpshooter. These skills don't translate as well to bows or crossbows, so he chooses not to use them. Winch fighters are also given rudimentary sword & buckler training, but it pales in comparison to a melee specialist.

LIMITS ⫻ As an ability primarily designed for gunfights, The Focus provides no offensive benefit in melee combat, and using it to dodge melee attacks is far more tiring than using it to dodge projectiles. The Focus also takes an incredible amount of energy to use, and long term passive application will leave Lucky exhausted. Lucky is also not very durable, and a small buckler is obviously not the best defensive weapon. Even when armed with a gun, Lucky is very much a glass cannon.

WEAKNESSES ⫻ When Lucky activates The Focus, his perception narrows. He sees exactly what he intends to see, and everything else becomes secondary. Thus, Lucky will struggle when dealing with state enemies who will flank and envelop him.

As well, when The Focus is active Lucky will find himself more susceptible to things that disrupt the physical aspects of the skill. A sudden, blinding light may hit Lucky twice as hard when be is in this state and concussive rounds or explosions could disrupt the slow, methodical breathing rhythm and push him out of this state.

MAIN GOAL ⫻ Eilrethiel wants to find a new home. Though really he wants to return to his first one, to his mother and the people he grew up around, he knows that isn’t possible. So he needs to find a replacement, one that actually accepts him and his oddities. Secondary to this, he wants to get enough power to dismantle the system that forced him to leave in the first place.

PHILOSOPHY ⫻ While his somewhat selfish and obsessive personality often feels at odds with it, Eilrethiel was brought up with a strong sense of community. This has shaped his outlook: while it may be possible to survive alone, it isn’t possible to thrive. A group is needed, where everyone has their role.

SECRETS ⫻ Eilrethiel isn’t super forthcoming with the whole intensive obsession leading sometimes to stalking thing. Though he doesn’t entirely view it as wrong, he knows the reactions he’ll get. He also tends to keep his mummy issues under wraps, since he was teased for it plenty growing up.

SEXUALITY ⫻ Queer. While Eilrethiel definitely has a type (and bad taste), it isn’t bound by gender.

FEARS ⫻ The normal. Dying. The whole ocean being polluted and everything in it dying. Being alone forever. Rejection. He fears never finding somewhere that he belongs, since he didn’t even belong in the place that felt like home. He’s also scared that one day he won’t be able to breathe underwater, or on land. Or both. Drowning on land would be awful.

WHAT BROUGHT THEM TO GREYHARROW ⫻ Eilrethiel drifted to Greyharrow after hearing it was a mixed city filled with all sorts of people, hoping to maybe find somewhere he’d belong. It definitely has nothing to do with the multiple counts of theft, breaking and entering, and stalking he has against his name. It wasn’t like he knew the windows he was climbing through belonged to nobles! He didn’t do anything bad enough to have a bounty on him, and hasn’t even realised he’s only vaguely wanted in some local jurisdictions. He still doesn’t know how surface laws work, after all. Better to be safe than sorry.

WHAT DO OTHERS IN TOWN THINK OF THEM ⫻ Eilrethiel is relatively new to Greyharrow, and hasn’t really settled in. He’s viewed as odd but mostly friendly, with a proclivity to outrageous stories and mean jabs. Harmless and odd is probably the prevailing opinion. Thankfully for the townsfolk, he’s yet to latch onto anyone.

EQUIPMENT ⫻ Eilrethiel has a sleek bone knife that he always keeps on him. He wears no armour, as it gets in the way of his spellcasting. He has various pouches filled with spell components, always carrying a few on his person. He carries rations with him, but not many other essentials - he’s just too weak to carry around much.

FLAWS ⫻ Eilrethiel can be incredibly obsessive. After losing everything he knew, he now has a habit of latching onto anyone who shows him the least bit of interest. This manifests incredibly unhealthily, to the point where he’s even stalked people before. However, his obsession isn’t always limited to one person. It can be multiple at a time, leading to him also appearing fickle. He can manipulate people to get what he wants- though it’s rarely something malicious, it doesn’t change the action. Often he’ll get grumpy when things don’t go his way (even though he’ll just as often follow along with other’s bad decisions), and can come across as erratic because of sudden changes in mood. It’s more jarring when he has a habit of moulding himself based on the people around him, like a sponge for personality traits. He can often lack consideration for others that aren’t those he cares for (or is obsessed over), though he’s rarely mean to people’s faces (though gladly behind their backs).

Eilrethiel also comes from a completely different culture. While he’s lived on the land for almost six years, he still hasn’t gotten to grip with all the social norms.

Sea elves are generally insular and reclusive, and Eilrethiel’s community was no different. Situated in a vast coral reef in the Firedrake Bay, their village was formed around the natural underwater landscape. They had formed a cautious bond with the local fishing village, with an agreement they only caught what they needed and treated the ocean’s inhabitants with respect. The sea elves and the humans of each town traded goods that couldn’t be found on either side, though most interaction beyond that was kept to a minimum.

Eilrethiel’s mother, Firiashe, was among the more curious and rebellious of the enclave. She’d just come of age, a few years over a hundred, when she met a fisherman during a brief trip on land. One thing led to another, and Eilrethiel was the result. It was a brief fling that ended as quickly as it started. While the pregnancy was unexpected, Firiashe was happy to have a child.

Half sea elves were incredibly rare- the human side often dominating and leaving them unable to live underwater. Elrethiel was lucky, born with a mostly working set of gills along with normal human lungs. He could be brought up by his mother, rather than her having to give him away. So Elrethiel was brought up in the coral reef underneath the ocean.

However, his gills were slightly deformed, and he didn’t have the same resistance to cold his full blooded peers have. He struggled to breath, with Firiashe taking him on land for short periods in an attempt to help. On land, his gills got in the way, making his breathing only a little better. He just had to get used to it. It was another thing that set him aside from the full blooded sea elves his age. While he had friends, and played happily with other children, he was never included in the same way.

This led to him forming unhealthily strong attachments to those who did give him more attention, leading to bouts of jealousy. He was incredibly clingy to his mother, who was the main reason he had such a happy childhood. While he would often get jealous of her lovers, they rarely lasted long. And he was her son- he was irreplaceable, unlike them.

Elrethiel’s magic started showing itself when he went through puberty, with minor magical tricks happening around him. It wasn’t until he was fourteen that he realised his connection with the moon and that he was a sorcerer. Arcane magic users were rare among sea elves, aside from bards, and he was the only one in his village. This made him special, but it was yet another thing that made him different from everyone else too. While for some it led to suspicion, Firiashe saw it as a blessing. The moon was important to their way of life, after all, with its effects on the tides, so his magic granted by it could only be a good thing.

As he neared adulthood, his somewhat isolated but happy life was disrupted. The once small town was growing, with greedy nobles looking at all the valuable underwater life in the firedrake bay as a way to make themselves richer. The fishermen the village had agreements with were pushed out of their jobs because of permits and new laws. More industrialised fishing was put in place, which meant more sea elves being accidentally caught and killed. The already small village felt every loss, and it only got worse as the water began to be more polluted. Sickness spread like it never had before.

So the village made the decision to move deeper into the Trackless Sea where surface dwellers couldn’t reach. But Eilrethiel wouldn’t be able to survive in the deeper ocean. Barely eighteen, not feeling like an adult at all having aged so much faster than his peers, he was left with an awful decision.

His mother couldn’t survive on the surface, but he couldn’t surface deeper into the ocean.

Either one of them sacrificed their life for a few more years together, or they separated. In the end, Firiashe made him leave. She gave him what advice she could, and the village let him take whatever he needed to survive. Before they parted, she told him not to trust the surface dwellers easily. They weren’t like their sea elf community, tight knit and working together for the good of everyone.

Eilrethiel had to start again on the surface. The social difference was incredibly jarring. From the first town he reached he realised this. He was almost thrown in jail for taking some clothes off a line to blend in, only just managed to smooth talk his way out of it. For sea elves, ownership wasn’t a thing. Anything lying around the village was for anyone to use! This was just the first of many things that almost tripped him up on the surface.

As he travelled up the sword coast, he slowly adapted. He didn’t need to worry much about food, able to dive into the sea to hunt down fish, but he earned money with his magic as he could. After a couple of years, he even attended school in waterdeep for a year. A school for astronomy focused wizards, he managed to lie his way in using his lunar sorcery and general ability to make shit up.

It was a good year and a half, and where he started to make connections. Then obsessions. Then perhaps some not so good behaviours such as following his obsessions around… But he really was learning there! As much as he could, barely knowing how to read at the time.

But good things don’t last. His lies got found out, and he was chased out. He moved to Neverwinter for another couple of years, before fleeing the local authorities after breaking and entering into multiple nobles' homes to visit people he’d befriended.

Now, just a month ago, he came to Greyharrow, hoping to finally find somewhere he belonged. And also avoid getting thrown in jail.

TYPE ⫻ Sorcerer (Lunar)

MAGIC ⫻


SPELLS ⫻


CURRENT WANDS/TOMES/STAFFS ⫻ As a lunar sorcerer Eilrethiel doesn’t need any kind of tool or conduit for his magic, channeling it through himself.

LIMITS ⫻ Eilrethiel can only cast the spells matching the current lunar phase of his home world (aside from his cantrips, which he can always cast).

Some of Eilrethiel’s spells have material components, many of which he sourced from his home under the sea and may be more difficult to replace now that he’s on land. This means he has to be careful when casting those specific spells.

His magic is strong, but often chaotic and tiring on his body. While he has enough magical power to cast as many spells as he wants, his body can’t handle it, and eventually he’ll be fatigued or knocked out by his own spell casting. The more he pushes himself and casts beyond his limits, the more likely something will go wrong with one of the spells too.

Each individual spell has its limits as written in their descriptions (range, time it lasts, ect). The majority of his spells work underwater, but this means that sometimes they’re cast oddly or more likely to be affected by the current environment.

WEAKNESSES ⫻ Due to his connection with the moon, Eilrethiel's magical power is affected by its presence. He's weaker during the day when he can't see it in the sky, and stronger at night. Ideal during winter, but makes things more difficult in summer.

Eilrethiel can’t read.
_{Ok. He can read and write (in common) like a ten year old. It’s not because he has any difficulties, just that books don’t survive underwater! And ink they could use was a pain to make… Sea Elvish is barely a writable language anyway.}

Eir is pronounce Ire. He tends to use it because most people can't pronounce his name properly (funky sea elvish pronounciation, don't ask).

MAIN GOAL ⫻ Right now, her goal is to figure out a way to get her sword off her wrist and ditch her oath without the other Swords of Imago hunting her down for desertion. After those likely impossible tasks are done...who knows? Get a cushy job cracking heads for some crime boss maybe?

PHILOSOPHY ⫻ "You are who you are, and you ain't getting better. I've seen plenty of pricks get swords clamped to their wrists and told to redeem themselves, but nine times outta ten, they just end up as pricks with swords clamped to their wrists. Myself included. You want people to stop being pricks...I dunno, teach 'em how to read and give 'em a book about how much of a prick they've been." As strange as it might seem considering her oath, Mannie isn't really sure people can change. If they could, she'd have changed by now, right? Not even swearing herself to the God of Redemption could unfuck her up. So it must be that everyone is like this, that only the truly special can carve a new life for themselves. And that ain't her.

At the same time, buried underneath her nihilism and self-pity, she understands intimately the role that systems of power play in leading someone into a life of crime. In this, her and her oath are in agreement - usually it's not cruelty of heart that leads to cruelty of action but rather cruel actions that lead to a desensitized heart. For many, Mannie included, very few options were available to her other than a life of cruelty.

SECRETS ⫻ While there was a lot outside of Mannie's control that led her to pursuing a life of crime, that doesn't mean she's absolved of the pain she's caused. She killed a lot of people and hurt more, not always for survival. Sometimes for greed, for pride, for personal satisfaction. The morality of her punishment is up for debate, but there's no doubt that she's earned her chains.

SEXUALITY ⫻ Lesbian, and previously a notorious rake. Unfortunately, the Swords of Imago are discouraged from seeking out romance. Mannie's not sure if doing so would be enough to break her oath, but she's so far not been desperate enough to risk it. Not to mention that bringing a sword to bed is a dealbreaker for most (and Mannie's kinda scared of those for whom it's not).

FEARS ⫻ Her rawest, most prevalent fear is that her siblings in arms will find her. That she will face the full force of the Swords of Imago, and end up gutted, disemboweled, or vivisected like every other deserter and traitor to the Order. Deeper than that, though, she's afraid that she actually can change, and that if she were to, the weight of what she's done will crush her.

WHAT BROUGHT THEM TO GREYHARROW ⫻ Like a lot of folks in Greyharrow, Mannie's on the run. After being chased by the Swords of Imago for months, she settled in Greyharrow. Not only is it her kind of place - it reminds her a lot of the poorer districts of Chrys she grew up in - but it's also right at the precipice of a desert wasteland. At the first indication her former comrades have found her she plans on grabbing her go bag and lose herself in the red wastes.

WHAT DO OTHERS IN TOWN THINK OF THEM ⫻ Having only been in Greyharrow for a few months, she's yet to shake the reputation that comes with being a Sword of Imago - they're known to be killers honed into weapons of protection by the Order of Imago, terrifying and awe-inspiring in equal measure. People who know her (employers and coworkers, mostly) have learned she's got more in common with the underpaid bouncers of Greyharrow than the fearsome harbingers of justice from the stories. Already, she's managed to cobble together a pretty stable career as a low-level criminal in Greyharrow; her unwillingness to break her oath is overshadowed by her ability to take a punch for someone from across the room. Bodyguard, bouncer, gambling cheat - whatever gig gets her enough for a room and a pint of ale.

EQUIPMENT ⫻ The only weapon Mannie keeps on hand (if you'll forgive the expression) is her sword - a hand-and-a-half sword enchanted to never dull, bound to her wrist by an equally unbreakable meter-long chain. It usually does the trick, and if she needs a ranged weapon, she'll throw whatever's closest and heaviest. Since her desertion, she's favored hide armor. It's cheap and easy to get, and her own supernatural durability gives her the extra defense that (the much more expensive option) heavy armor would offer. Other than that, she packs light. She's got a go-bag with a few weeks' rations, a bedroll, a tarp, a well-stocked first aid kit, and a deck of cards.

FLAWS ⫻ Mannie's more motivated by self-interest than she is in any higher ideals. Even when she does stand up for others, its more out of loyalty or selfishness than altruism. Her reasons for actually playing paladin tend to be shallow - a drinking buddy needs help, or a pretty face is about to be struck. In rare occasions where someone undeniably innocent is being threatened, she'll begrudgingly step in solely because her oath is very clear on its stance of protecting the innocent. But she's not going to enjoy it.

Big kids eat first. This was the first rule that Mannie remembers ever learning, the rule that defined life at the Saint Cardui Orphanage and Chrys' poor districts in general, and the rule that went on to inform many of Mannie's decisions later in life. If you wanted something, you had to be big enough to take it. Mannie got lucky - she became Saint Cardui's biggest kid in her early teens, outclassing kids who were years older than her. Thanks to her ability (and willingness) to throw her weight around, she spent her teenage years fatter and happier every year than the year before. This likely would've ended the moment she left Saint Cardui's were it not for Larv.

If Larv knew about the 'big kids eat first rule' rule, she never showed it. She'd been small even for a halfling, and yet she defiantly broke lower Chrys' one rule with unwavering smugness. In another story, she might've overcome Mannie the Big Bully in a show of mind over matter. As it was, Mannie wasn't so prideful that she needed to display her dominance over the clever little halfling, and Larv wasn't dumb enough to let good muscle go to waste. Their friendship started at the orphanage and would continue well into adulthood.

Larv's schemes, after years of saving and honing her craft, culminated in a fencing business that got the pair out of Chrys. They didn't travel far - they stayed pretty close to Chrys, occasionally coming back to do business where it all began - but these were still the best years of their lives. They were seeing the world! More of it than they'd ever hoped to within the walls of Chrys. They were on top of the world, a couple of criminals bound by no one. Even looking back, knowing what it all would lead to, Mannie's not sure she'd have given up those years for anything.

Mannie was 22 when she was caught. Her and Larv were on one of their prideful trips back home, confident despite the famously overpoliced streets of lower Chrys. They figured they knew how to navigate the streets of their youth and who to trust. Streets might be consistent, but people aren't. Since they'd been gone, a contact they'd had since childhood had turned rat. A few guards showed up to what was supposed to be a business meeting. Mannie fought. Larv ran. Larv got away. Mannie didn't.

On some level, Mannie wasn't surprised by her fate. Kids like her, kids born and raised in lower Chrys, know the stories. Get caught committing a crime, it's either imprisonment, or becoming a Sword of Imago. For assault and larceny, she had a bastard sword bound to her right wrist with a meter of chain. Had they known of the crimes she'd committed outside the city walls, she'd have probably been sentenced to a greatsword or a maul. Lucky her.

She took the oath all Swords of Imagos are bound to and received nothing in return but duty - being blessed with the power of Imago is something one has to earn through service, something most initiates never achieve. For a few years, Mannie was shuffled around by the Order of Imago, the church that oversaw the Swords and Chrys itself. Some days it felt like adventure, being sent to protect towns under Chrys' protection, aiding allies of the Order. Most days, though, it felt like grueling, deadly, unrewarding work. Work that Mannie did for two and a half years.

Mannie's not sure about the nitty gritty politics of her last mission - some duke who'd seceded from Chrys' theocratic government was allegedly playing around with spacetime in a way that made the Order uncomfortable. All she knew was she and a bunch of other Swords were being sent to lay siege to a small dukedom. It was actually easy, as far as missions go - Swords are Chrys' greatest export, and even unblessed initiates are well trained warriors. The petty defenses of the dukedom never stood a chance.

The ultimate objective was the duke's academy, where his research was allegedly taking place. The students had already been sent away, and the professors who remained did their best to defend their school. It was a slaughter. Amoral as she considers herself, Mannie's still haunted by that night. That didn't stop her from partaking in it. She was with the group that found the duke. He and a few others were in a classroom, still working on a looming machine. They never stopped, even as the Swords began tearing through them. Mannie's not special - she was two kills in before she saw her.

Larv. Lying there on the ground, shivering, eyes wide with recognition and horror.

Surprise. Anger. Intent to kill. All these and a million others flashed across Mannie's mind as she readied herself to kill her old friend. Her sword never came down. She had time, she knew she could cut the little runt in two. Hip to hip would be easier, but she was sure she could do head to belly if the little wretch didn't weasel away. But her sword never came down. Even as the machine lit up with a crackling portal, even as Larv bolted into it and disappeared, Mannie was frozen.

It wasn't until she felt a warhammer collide with the side of her head that she was pulled out of her stupor. Having secured the duke - others had escaped through the portal, but not him - half had set to smashing the machine, and the other half now began surrounding her. The Swords of Imago had witnessed her disloyalty, disloyalty to Chrys, to the Order. And a disloyal initiate was a dead initiate.

Except she wasn't an initiate. An initiate would have died from the blows she'd received as she waded through her former comrades to the flickering, unstable portal, yet she came out the other side alive, collapsing the same second as the portal. She later found out that whatever that machine was, it had teleported weeks of travel away from the dukedom and Chrys both.

So she had a head start. That was something, at least.

TYPE ⫻ Oath of Redemption Paladin

PATRON ⫻ Lymantria been bound to the service of Imago, the Butterfly King. Imago's a god of redemption and new dawns, and is the patron deity to the city of Chrys where Mannie was born. She's a member of the Swords of Imago, criminals who've pledged their service to the Order of Imago in hopes to earn redemption for their crimes.

TERMS ⫻
"We the guilty swear to protect the innocent."
The Swords of Imago are meant to act as a shield between the evils of the world and those untouched by evil deeds. They are sworn to protect those who've done little to no harm in their lifetimes.

"We the selfish swear to fight selflessly."
Many of the Swords are criminals who've hurt and killed people in the name of survival, greed, and anger. Under their oath, they cannot enact violence in the name of personal gain or satisfaction.

"We, full of folly, allow His wisdom to guide our fury."
Before Mannie deserted, 'allowing His wisdom to guide our fury,' meant following the orders of the high priests. Now that she's on her own, she's still trying to figure out the whole wisdom thing for herself.

"Until our blades dull and our chains break."
It's a life sentence, simple as.

In Chrysalis ⫻ Swords, more than anything, are meant to bear the pains of others. It is in the spirit of mercy that Imago grants those who've earned His favor with the gift of divine resilience. Once she's passed a certain threshold, though, she starts getting into trouble - if she's truly beat to hell, she might not be able to stay up once the adrenaline of combat fades.

We the Guilty ⫻ Mannie's found that she can offer people blessings that split the damage they take between her and them. While this bond is in effect, the recipient also has a very subtle aura of protection, giving them a slightly better chance of avoiding attacks and certain effects. She's found that, while it can be dangerous, she can offer this blessing to multiple people at once. As of now, she hasn't yet managed to stretch the range of this ability past roughly twenty yards.

CURRENT WANDS/TOMES/STAFFS ⫻ Mannie's holy symbol is her sword. It's subtle, but their are four rings built into the guard, two big stacked on two small, reminiscent of a butterfly. It is the two bigger rings that her chain is linked to.

LIMITS ⫻ In addition to the limits put on her by her Oath, Mannie can't endure magical effects inflicted on someone unless they do damage. If she's gonna tank it, it's gotta hurt. She also can't tank psychic damage - it's too personal of a damage type. Seeing other people's most painful memories flashing before her eyes doesn't really do it for her.

WEAKNESSES ⫻ Her abilities are hampered by her own views on redemption. Specifically, her own redemption. Her abilities have a tendency to backfire and will often lead to harmful results, such as damage amplifying through her body when she takes a blow, thus leading to a broken bone where normally her sturdy frame could withstand the blow. The more she doubts her own potential for redemption, the more this will appear when she uses her magic. On the flip side, should she progress through her journey of healing she might find her spells work even better than anticipated.

-Mannie's a simple woman - she just wants a drink, a warm meal, and a cozy bed.
-Also, I want to mention that In Chrysalis and We the Guilty are flavorings of False Life and Warding Bond respectively!