[CHAR] Escape from the Prison Mine

[Zapdos]

I'm just posting here in case I need to use this space later.

[The Savant]

Kristo Vosu

Name Kristo “Silver-Tongue” Vosu

Age 28



Physical Description Stands at 6’2 and weighs roughly 165 pounds. He’s a more athletic-leaning build but doesn’t do much to really tone it up except for keeping himself looking good and healthy.

Personality Kristo is someone that probably can talk his way out of anything if the other person is of average intelligence. His nickname “silver-tongue” comes from his charming demeanor and the way he deals with his words and situations. For some reason, he is usually great at distractions and getting out of situations.

Other than being charismatic, Kristo is somewhat of a goofy character that tends to have a welcoming and friendly personality. He loves telling jokes that most people would find dumb, maybe offensive, and most of the time get him punched.

For some reason, getting punched for his jokes is not enough and he will randomly state the obviousness of a situation.

Other than being somewhat of a charismatic dumbass, Kristo can barely tell the truth, especially to people he doesn’t trust. He has been called a pathological liar a few times in the past but he just claims it is for his own protection and maybe a slight hobby.

Warning, he can be very emotional and his mood can switch to whatever he needs at that very moment. Hes’ an actor, what can he say?

Backstory

“It all started on February~” looks down “Oh? We are starting around the prison mine? Not the birth of me. Okay. I see.”

Dramatically clears throat.

“Okay so this is how it went…

I was in a bar somewhere in Folgehallow? Furhowl? I cannot remember the town but does that really matter? I didn’t think so. There were these three guys across the bar talking about a poker game and oh my god. I would have to tell you the prettiest lady walked by and I completely got distracted. I mean so distracted that I had to walk up to her and say hi and she clearly hated me. I continued to shoot my shot.

Get to the point? Okay. Okay. Just settle down.

So after being backhanded by the woman and getting a drink poured on my head. I decided to walk over to the table that was speaking about the poker game. A big gambling event was happening that next Saturday and damn, it sounded good.

I ended up playing poker with the three gentlemen, amazing guys, but they figured out I was swindling them and you know? You know. You know… They were not happy about it. They were more or less pissed off you could say.

I could say a few more words about the tall skinny one but I will keep those to myself. Between you and me, a girl could punch harder than him. But don’t record that back to me.

So, after I got done swindling them and beat. I still got the majority of their money. I know. I know. I’m good at what I do but I was heading towards that gambling event like tomorrow was yesterday and yesterday was never going to happen.

I wasn’t going to arrive at the event location till the night before so I have three days ~ Oh? You just want me to skip to the event location and why I ended up in the prison mine. You are no fun, you know that? Anything I say will be used against me? Are you a guard or something? Wait! Stupid question. You are clearly a guard, you were the one that brought me here to the mine. Why am I answering these questions? You should already know, you and your friends arrested me.

Ow! Not so hard. I could have sat down by myself. Okay. Okay! I’ll continue at the event location just show a little patience. Gosh. You must have grown up in a barn or something.

Oh? You did. I mean. That’s wonderful! Good for you!

Oh, oh no. I wasn’t trying to offend your mother or father or family. It really is a good thing you grew up on a farm. Who needs the educa~ Okay. I’ll continue my story.

So, where was I? The girl at the bar was beautiful… That’s too far back? Okay. Okay.

I got to the gambling location and you know, I make an honest living most of the time and I didn’t realize these guys were real ballers, per se. In the middle of the poker game, I did a few tricks by then but I think one of them started catching on.
I ended up getting called out and I tried detesting the claims. They were not true one could say. I believe the real reason I ended up here is because two idiots tried grabbing me and I jumped onto the poker table, ruined everything, and got caught. After I got caught, you two idiots~ I MEAN GUARDS. You lovely, lovely guards. You realized I was wanted for a swindle back in… in… Shhhh. I think, what? Oh, yes. Ridges Gate. How could I forget that place, it made me rich.

Then you figured out my face was placed around a few other places too and now I am here and what are my charges? Se-Several years you say? God. That sounds too long. Can we figure out something? Maybe?

No! No. I’m not trying to bribe a guard at all! I have nothing you say? I do have things. You should visit my house down south in Portage. You would love the scenery. You probably would look great with a tan. Amazing even. Girls would love you. Strong muscles.

Oh? You have a wife. I- I mean, what a lucky girl. You, sir, are a very lucky man. I tried the commitment thing a few times and I can tell you, it-it is hard. It’s exhausting.

Oh? It’s time for me to switch to prison clothes? Okay. Let’s do this thing! I bet it is a party there. God these two suck…

I DIDN’T say anything! Nope. I’m just being…me? Myself. Pretty great, I have to be honest.

Okay. I will shut up now. I rather not be beat.

Okay. I’m shutting up. You don’t have to tell me again.

Sorry. I'll be quiet now.

Class Bard

Notable Skills and Abilities

A fantastic master musician that knows how to play several instruments. He would say the has a pretty decent singing voice as well which isn’t inaccurate.

Has a way with words to help him get out of most situations unharmed or be a distraction. He hates being a distraction for many reasons.

Is actually really good at his “magician tricks” when it comes to getting ahead of the game and earning more money at gambling games and the like. He is actually very talented at gambling games without the tricks.

He is great at networking. For some reason, he somehow knows everyone in some way shape or form. Most do not have good things to say about them but he has done a lot for others. Plus he always remembers those I.O.U.s

Kristo is actually an amazing cook and somehow is great at fishing and sailing as well. If you need a captain to captain the ship or row a simple rowboat, he is your man. He will get tired from the rowboat tho.
Fishing and sailing have given him amazing knot-tying skills and he will tell you all about it. He loves showing off the “undoable” knot to people.

He knows how to navigate on and off-land very well. He can get you from point A to point B without much issue, usually.

Also has been told he has a pretty face and a great smile. Kristo believes that counts as a great skill.

Anything else Kristo has very sensitive ears. He hates the sound of silverware scratching against a plate or bowl or whatever. He will tell you he hates it too. Plus the sound of someone biting the silverware, the noise of their teeth meeting the metal is torturous to him. He will whine about it.

Theme song

[psych0pomp]

Mortika d'Arce

_______________________________________________ "Our consciousness cannot grasp its own end, despite being fundamentally conscious of death's inevitability. To understand it, is to experience it. And to experience it is to be unable to speak of it." N A M E ⋮ Mortika MORT d'Arce A G E ⋮ 102 R A C E ⋮ Elf C L A S S ⋮ Necromancer A P P E A R A N C E ⋮ Mort appears to be in her mid to late twenties, though the graying of her naturally peach-colored skin may tell a story that she's older than she appears. She stands no taller than a human but is not lithe nor dainty. She has broad shoulders that extend to strong arms, a body that has seen hardships, fingers that were once clawed at the end but have been clipped--yet they still retain that feline grace, and the legs of an acrobat. It's evident that she's had to pull herself out of situations through the will of her body alone. Her hair is the color of a tidewater pool and just as glimmering. Though it may have lost its luster beneath the mines. Her irises are the hue of milky tea, not blending in with the bright sclera but counter to it. Her long ears are elven in nature and were once stamped with gold. Her nose is aquiline but reflects well on her sculpted face. A septum piercing at the end drips into her bow-shaped lips. Sharpened teeth are on the other end, cosmetic but still capable of doing damage if she bit into you. She walks with the confidence of a cat and the curiosity of a bear. There's no subtlety to her movements. They demand attention and get it. P H I L O S O P H Y ⋮ 1The ambiguous nature of the body may be formulated in a number of binary oppositions. The body is both the Same and the Other; both a subject and an object of practices and knowledge; it is both a tool and a raw material to be worked upon. The body appears to oscillate between presence and absence, most paradoxically in intense feelings — feelings as sensations and feelings as emotions. The body seems to be simultaneously the subject of highly articulated utterance and yet at perpetual risk of disappearing from our awareness.

P E R S O N A L I T Y P E R S O N A L I T Y Mort doesn't speak unless she is spoken to. Yet, she may take any passing comment as a formal address. She has a curt, sharp way of talking that doesn't do well to enamor her to anyone. She's quick to insult, and even quicker to laugh in most macabre situations. There's always something unsettling in the way that she acts. Yet, don't take that odd nature to be bravado. She's aware of lines, and she draws them in the still sands of her mind. She's gotten by in her life by pretending to follow the moral compass that everyone holds aloft as being even brighter than the sun. Only in the dredges of civility will she let loose the thoughts that bubble in her brain. She also has a tendency to talk to someone named Bertrand. It's hard to tell if he's a ghost, a figment of her imagination, or a tactic to unsettle those around her. She's creepy--yes--but you have to ask yourself how much of that is an act to be left alone. Also also really likes to rattle off about philosophy. B A C K S T O R Y B A C K S T O R Y Mort couldn't begin to tell you how other elves act. What their lands are like. What beliefs that her people subscribe to. What she knows is that she grew up in the cult of Messengers of the Black Sign. Born on a fortuitous day amidst a wellspring of a blight. Neither of her parents were elven, and as such, were not her blood and flesh. Yet, she did not belabor that fact. They cared for her and loved her like any would their child. She was held up as royalty within the small cult that had settled in the swamp town of Torniko. Torniko had sunk ten times over, and each time the cult had rebuilt the town on the wreckage of it. It was the Message's Will. It wanted them to be here. So, underneath it were catacombs that housed not only its previous denizens but its culture and knowledge as well. A wealth of information that Mort endured the perilous adventure to drink up in her youth. What did the Messengers of the Black Sign believe in? Well, they believed in the nature of the body, and the sheer confoundingness of its binary nature 1. The Black Sign was a map on how to form a bridge between the Same and the Other and create a being that is aware of both its body and its spirit at the same time. And what they discovered was the only way to achieve that, to achieve enlightenment, was to supplant the soul back into its body after it had departed. Like being born anew in the flesh that is familiar. The spirit has already perceived what it can without the body. So reunited with the body, it could perceive multitudes. That's how Mort came to know necromancy. And it's fair to say her entire ideology and the town's worship of such a belief was quite the black mark upon them. They were attacked in the middle of the night, the village burned as its denizens slept. Mort had been away in the catacombs, looking for an old manuscript she'd seen in her youth. When she emerged from the depths to all the death and carnage, something in her snapped. So, she summoned up her abilities and awoke the now-dead cultists to fight on her behalf. As revenge? Maybe. One couldn't say she was powerful, more than she had the numbers to create a distraction and flee the ruins of Torniko. Rumors would say that she killed them all and danced on their bones. The reality was that a few were scratched and scraped, but the only ones left dead were the villagers. So, Mort ran, and ran, and ran, and found companionship in new faces that she met. Slowly, she started to build back up the cult, becoming its matron--its princess. They hadn't done anything wrong, but probably holding service in the catacombs, speaking of raising corpses, and "fixing" the duality of their nature by dying didn't sit well with people. So, of course, she'd be caught, shackled, and thrown into the mines. Who was she hurting? No one, she thought. But some higher power probably took offense. They always did. So, here she was sent to rot. Ten years grinding away at gold, and quite content to defame it with her fingers. A B I L I T I E S A B I L I T I E S NECROMANCY: The only magic that Mort can tap into. While the goal of the cult was to create lich-like creatures out of its members, she really can only bring up mindless denizens to do her will. The fresher the corpse, the harder it is to control. Animals are easy, and her preferred method if they are around for her to use. She can also sense the life force around her, allowing her to see enemies before they see her. Unless they have ways of masking it. SPEAK WITH THE DEAD: Part of her necromancy, Mort has the ability to speak with the spirits that are sans their bodies. She can't converse with ones that have moved on, ones that don't wish to speak to her, or those that she doesn't share a language with. While she can passively see ghosts that wish to be seen, it takes quite a bit of effort to actually speak with the ones that she's not established a previous report with. And even then, some spirits can hide from her, and make it so that she's not aware of their presence. ANATOMY & PHYSIOLOGY: It's not a medical version of this, per say, but it is knowledge of the body and how it functions. She could probably diagnose a broken bone, and tell you how to put it back into place. But she isn't going to tell you how to fight infection, staunch the bleeding, or deal with the pain. ARCANE KNOWLEDGE: Mort read a lot, and a lot of that reading was about magic. Again, she can't perform anything beyond her necromancy, but that doesn't mean she can't read magical symbols or mystical languages.

[Vox Angelis]

The Bear

Name: Maxim Chevalier AKA "The Bear"
Age: 32

Appearance: He's a large man standing at 6 feet 8 inches tall and 400 pounds. Maxim looks pretty gruff with his long brown hair and full beard, and is also quite the hairy man, hence why he was nicknamed "The Bear" in his village. His body structure is pretty thick, and while he may appear burly, this man's fat hides strong muscles that would put most men to shame. His bright green eyes seem to almost shine with positive energy, even in the darkest of hours.

Personality: Maxim is a very simple man. Eat, work, drink and sleep was his routine from an early age as the son of a blacksmith. He's a man of duties with a good heart. While he's quite the simpleton and uneducated, he his hardworking and stubborn. These traits served him well to learn about the trades of a blacksmith and a builder. He may come across as naïve, as he sees the good in everything until proven otherwise.

Backstory: Maxim comes from a quaint little farming village. A quiet place with no noticeable trait that made it stand out from other places. The village provided tribute to the kingdom in forms of harvest and crafted goods. Our giant of a man was raised as the son of the village's blacksmith, and so was given the great responsibility of learning the trade to take over his father's duties when older.

There isn't much of notice to tell about Maxim's life. It was quiet, life was good.

Until a drought struck. It lasted the whole summer. The fields were barren, the livestock died from heatstroke. The village was destabilized. They couldn't pay their tribute that year. A few meager coins couldn't possibly pay off an entire village's debt. And so, some villagers were taken as slave for compensation. Maxim stood up and offered himself to work at the mines at the condition the rest of the village be spared. He was sent off to the mine.

Class: Maxim is but a peasant. A very strong peasant.

Notable skills or abilities: While he has no knowledge of magic or fighting, Maxim is very, very strong. He's also gifted with great endurance and toughness. As the son of a blacksmith, the bear knows his way around tools and metals to do the job. He's also quite adept at being a lumberjack and a surprisingly good carpenter. You can rely on this big man to craft and build what you need, or take apart anything that requires brute strength or some tools.

Anything else: Please give this man a shield you'll get yourself a walking tank 😅

[Saiyan]

Titus Hart CS

In the dreary stone cell, the big brute known as Kruger recited his message while [NAME] Titus Hart scrawled the words in the form of a letter. The [AGE] 21 year old often provided his services as a scribe to other prisoners - an easy way to gain favour with the right men. Kruger had influence due to his time served and his effective ability to beat the living shit out of most who stood against him.

"And errr... just... I love you... n all that."

Titus looked up at the man, the usual dispassionate expression on his face. "Perhaps something a tad more endearing would be better?" Kruger's quizzical reaction only made him look dumber than usual. Titus elaborated, a performative tone reminiscant of the stage.

"My love for you defies the heights of mountains and the brights of stars,
Let it be your warmth until I have you in my arms."

Kruger's face lit up. "Ooh, that's fancy. She'll like that - put that."

Titus scrawled the last of the letter and signed it with Kruger's name. Then folded the paper in two. "I'll make sure the guard gets it."

[APPEARANCE] Standing up, his 6' 1" height had Titus at eye-level with the thug, although at 170lbs and no skills in combat, he wasn't even close to having the same kind of presence as Kruger. Nonetheless, he had something of an aura of his own. He kept himself well groomed - a blade for shaving, water to slick his hair and clean his face. Even his prison garmants seemed better-kept than most around him. And his fearless, piercing gaze never wavered. Even when he first arrived at Northern Redemption District and was intimidated and bullied to no end.

"What do I owe you, Titus?" Kruger asked after patting the younger man on the arm with a meaty hand.

"Nothing for now, I may come to you for a favour another time," was the reply. "Just continue to keep your goons in line, if you would be so kind."

Kruger nodded briskly. He turned to leave, but paused and turned back, deciding to finally ask what he'd been wondering for a while. "Your face don't fit in this place. Where'd you come from, eh?"

[BACKGROUND]Titus sat back down on the edge of the bed and crossed one leg over the other. "I was born to Penelope Hart and some horny nobleman. I grew up in Richmond - hardly rich, to be perfectly fair, but what small town is. Had a good childhood, a close relationship with my grandmother, a small band of friends. Left town when I was 16, went to the city to seek my fortune - and fortune I found. And enjoyed. Until it came to an end."

"How'd you end up here?"

"Failed heist on the Golden Sun's Treasury." Kruger's eyebrows shot up, impressed. It was always so weird to Titus to hear prisoners be impressed with grand failure. The bigger the failure, the worse your sentence, the more impressed people were. Stupid. "The city tax house. Was going swimmingly well until one of our team doomed us all by... well... a chain is only as strong as it's weakest link. The details are inconsequential now. We were arrested, sentenced and split up. I was sent here with a life sentence to serve."

"You must have some skills then, being in that kinda game, eh."

[CLASS AND SKILLS]"Me? I'm but a simple alchemist. I'm familiar with mixtures and compounds for healing, poisoning and other delights. But my main role on in our gang was on matters of explosives." Titus looked up at Kruger to gauge his reaction to this. Long had the prospect of escaping this prison mine been on his mind. Kruger may be another valuable ally in this endeavour (he'd already met other interesting characters who he'd marked as such.) Kruger didn't react in any particularly notable way - he was impressed and surprised, as to be expected. "Anyway," Titus moved on swiftly. "We will be late for supper, should we get moving?"

[ProxyInc]

Erith Thornhollow

Erith Thornhollow

______________________♧______________________

^{_{Sandy blond hair is kept in a lose and messy braid down the nape of the young man’s neck; tapering off just a little below his broad shoulders. The color was a soft contrast against his pallid skin. A warm flush of cinnamon seemed to be permanently burnt across sharp cheekbones and over the bridge of his nose. Erith was about average as a feyling goes when it came to height. An impressive five foot and two inches, three if he was standing exceptionally straight that day. Though most days you could find him hunched over something, fumbling or fidgeting with something in those blocky, stubby fingers of his.
Erith loved to tinker with things and it showed. Strong muscles corded around his arms and lead into strong, thick fingers. His palms well worn and calloused with years of wear on them. Even his clothes usually bore smudges of oil and grease deep into the tawny dyed fabrics. While the patchwork pockets sown haphazardly on were filled with various bolts and debris.
His tail was a great aid while he worked. The color a few shades darker than the hair upon his head though by the end of a day’s work it was often just as dark as the stains upon his shirt. But regardless of the grime and the mess—Erith’s sky blue eyes remained unclouded. Chipper in the way they would sparkle beneath the flames of a nearby torch. With just a touch of mischief that would curl at the corners of full lips. He often looked like he was lost in thought and perhaps he was; or at least musing over some well-kept secret.}}
______________________◇______________________

Age

^Twenty-three

Personality

^{Erith has been compared to a painfully bright spot of sun on a dreary cloudy day more than once. Known for his pointless rambling, nearly nauseous optimism, and short attention span. Everything he does, he does loudly and would be comedic if it often didn’t end with him in some sort of trouble. Mischief is in his DNA and even if he wanted to lead a straight forward life there was just too much for him to discover still. And discovery often means skirting the law—or at least bending the rules just a tad.
The artificer burns to know how everything works. And he does mean everything; people included.}

Backstory

<sup>”Huh? What? No, I didn’t—well, actually,” Erith paused, eyes flickering over his shoulder and back at the crude, worn cloth his tail was wrapped tightly around. The evidence was damning. Not that he had a leg to stand on even without it. Word got around quickly when there was nothing else to do but work, avoid torture, starve, and sleep. Erith, the absent minded thief. Stupid tail.
He looked back at the towering man before him. Blood vessels throbbed around those graying temples, blood shot eyes wide and shaking in their rage. The man's lips were thin and peeled back over rotting teeth.”Listen, it’s not that I want your dirty rag of a blanket. In fact I don’t think I’ve ever smelled such a combination of foul odors. Really, what are you eating? Did you know that even with the slop here that you can work around and eat better? It’ll definitely give you a more pleasant aroma. Though. Maybe it’s a sign of something gone wrong within? Erith had already lost the plot. His arms folded across his chest while his tail waved the soiled blanket in the air like a flag behind him.

”Oh for fucks sake, just shut up!” The man bellowed, his anger now shifted to annoyance. His dirt stained hands ripped the cloth out from Erith’s grasp, him startling in return. ”Stay to your side if you know what’s good for you.” The threat was thin. It wasn’t like there was much room for anyone, anywhere. They all knew it. And as before Erith would be tossed to another cell. Another group. Where he would eventually fall into another misunderstanding.

With a heady sigh the feyling slumped backwards and against the cool wall. This was how he landed here in the mines in first place. Though one could argue—actually, he did argue. In front of everyone. That it was the Nobleman's fault in the first place. The memory sat soured at the forefront of his brain. Why carry around such shiny bobbles if he didn’t want to talk about it? It wasn’t Erith’s fault that it was so flimsy either. He shook his head at how easily the thing had shattered in his hands. The look upon the small gathering crowd's face as the realization settled in. Thoigh he suppose it cpuld have ended in a worse way. After all if he hadn’t been sold here where would he be? Sat locked away. Bored with nothing to do. At least here he got to use tools and scoured the earth for new material.</sup>

Class

^Artificer

Notable skills or abilities

^{Shapeshift: Erith can change his shape to any person he’s visibly seen with limitations. He can only hold the shape for two hours maximum and can only grow about a foot larger than his actual size.
Magical tinkering/infuse item: Can imbue object and tools that he has working knowledge of with skills and enchantments that are bereft of the objects natural purpose.
Prehensile tail: Erith’s tail acts and serves as an extra arm. While it isn’t as strong as his actual arms it still can carry and move objects up to fifteen pounds.
Night vision: A natural trait from his fey heritage, Erith can see up to twenty feet in the dark or more in dimly lit spaces.}

Anything else:

^{Eirth is a kleptomaniac. Not by choice but driven by compulsion and egged on by his need to take things apart. Often his tail is the culprit, dipping into pockets on a whim.}

[Tora]

Mhin

Name: Mhin.
Age: Unknown (close to 20 – 22)

Appearance:


Personality:
All assassins need to be vicious and cruel…. Well, not this one. Mhin is the definition to wolf on sheep’s clothes. Seems cheerful and even a little naïve, with her big smiles and clear eyes, makes you want to protect her and keep her away from the cruel world. But in reality, she’s much sharper than most, with a temper of a goblin and a sailor’s mouth, her words are only as sharp as her blades and as harsh as stones. She would smile at you cutely while slashing your throat. Passion and courage with a dash of sarcasm is the perfect doze for trouble, and despite the fact that she did train being the “perfect assassin” she is still young, which tends to come with little to no patience; it is not that she goes through live looking for trouble or fights, but she doesn’t back down from a challenge nor a fight. Whether you’re a woman, men or troll, she’ll take you just to shut you up.

Using people and throwing them out is the things she had to learn in the company of the assassins, so she does that without a second thought, always expecting people to stab you in the back is actually the best way to preventing that from happening —at least, that’s what she believes—. Always keeping people at arm’s length, not looking for company or understanding, but peace and money.

But past the harsh exterior, you’ll find a lost girl that had to learn to punch back. Loyal to the ones she considers her peers; she’ll have your back whenever you need it. Lonely, who most of the time still sees the weakly street urchin she was when looking in the mirror —which is why she lashes out when provoked— exhausted to always having to prove a point.

Backstory:
The first memories she has of the world, are of a damp and humid alley. Shadows and hunger clung to her, just as the smell of rotten food did to her rags. Her feet always hurting from the harsh streets and her eyes hollow, voided of life. She used to ask her self why some people had so much while she had nothing, why would she be destined to a life of poverty and hunger when there were people fatter than the pigs at the butchery? Life wasn’t fair, so why should she just root with the rest of the orphans on the street? Those thoughts are what got her into stealing from the travelers who were camping in the forest near the village where she lived, becoming more cunning as time past, until one day she targeted a bigger fish than she thought.

The crow could’ve killed her without a thought, but she had impressed him not only by her being as silent as a breeze, but also because of the courage —or stupidity— she had on targeting someone like him. So, he offered her the chance of being part of the assassin’s group, and since the alternative was either that or die, the child accepted, the rest is history.

The last step to becoming a full-fledged talon of the Crows.
She had been in training and had already participated on a few missions her self —as most street urchins that caught the Crows’s interest— but there was only a few selected that got the chance to actually have a meaningful place amongst the assassin’s group, even fewer made it to a full Crow —the leaders and very top of it all—. The last mission was always a mystery, but she could never have expected it to be that hard; One moment she was dinning with the rest of the rookies and the next, she was being dragged to the very entrance of the prison mines, with only a small note hidden away on her undergarments that read: ”Good luck”.

Luck was not going to get her out of there. Luck was not what had gotten her to be taken by a crow when she was but a meekly little girl with big eyes and fast hands… no, luck was a bitch.
Class: Assassin.
Notable skills or abilities:
- Stealth, she’s as quiet as there is, merely a breeze of the wind or a trick of the eyes.
- Flexibility and good at climbing without support.
- Good with blades and throwing knives.
- Close ranged combat.
Anything else:
- She’s 5’3 which makes her great for small places and faster than the big guys.
- She’s terrified of any type of spiders.
- She suspects there is someone from the assassins guild in there with her, but knows she only must escape.

[Expendable]

Rizx

Name: Rizx Skobati Kergix Ironyell

Age: 19

Appearance:

Rizx

This tiny goblin puts you in mind of a clockwork device. She has narrow brown eyes that are like two acorns. Her silky, straight, black hair is short and ragged, hidden partially under a ragged and faded brown cloth. She is short and has a wasp-waisted build. Her skin is olive drab. There are flogging scars on her back that can ache in cold weather, itch when it's muggy.

Personality: Angry, resentful, but wary, having had her trust betrayed a few times. However, once you’ve won her trust, she’s very true.

Backstory:

It isn't easy being a goblin. You find some isolated place to settle, do a little farming, a little hunting and gathering, make a little goblin ale (glah), some seed cake, and the next thing you know, the big people are storming the village. The survivors move on to some new place to hide, start to fill in their numbers, and the whole thing starts again. They did learn, however, that the big people had a strange fascination for chests and began leaving one in the center of the village. They'd then fill it with bits of armor, weapons, shiny rocks and what coins they manage to scrounge. It worked, more of the villagers escaped the raids as the distracted big people began digging through it.

The big people concerned Rizx. She searched out their huge sprawling villages and would creep around at night, watching and listening, hoping to find out why they would attack them. She learned enough of their language to speak to them, sometimes talking to the little big people, the children, becoming their "imaginary" friend - although she learned to stay away from the long ears, the tricky ones. However, it did little to tell her why the big people would raid their village.

Then, one day a strange town of tents appeared in a field, filled with strangely dressed big people, and even some who were more her size yet not goblins or children. This, she learned, was a circus. She managed to sneak into the tents and watch from under the stands as they did their acts. Rizx overheard some children talking about running away with the circus, and wondered if she could, too. When they left, she followed. It took some time, but the circus people began noticing how little things were being done, like mending the canvas, sorting out the ropes, but never touching their food supplies. It was hard to avoid their sharp eyes, but the long ears told the ring master about Rizx, and eventually she spoke to him, asking to join.

She became another of their acts in the side show, the Tamed Goblin, which made her laugh as it was the big people who needed tamed, she thought. She also worked with the roustabouts, doing minor repairs, helping with the rigging, and various jobs a circus needed her to do. Then, part-way through the season, a lord appeared with his troop of men, and ordered all the circus folk to line up and pass beside his wagon. He wasn’t interested in any of the men, flicking them away irritably, but his attention lingered over the women, even herself. The lord seemed particularly interested in the owner’s young daughter. Rizx noticed the owner’s son, who did this weird act where he and his sister would rapidly change places on the stage, was noticeably absent.

She thought it was all over with after the lord departed, but within the month the lord bought out all the outstanding debts the circus had and demanded payment. Or the owner’s daughter, as an indentured servant. It was a few nights later she saw the owner’s son, running across the fields, away from the circus. An hour later, the troops of the lord came, demanding payment or the owner’s daughter – who was nowhere to be found. They went through all the wagons, then began questioning everyone. When that didn’t work, the lord ordered them all arrested for conspiracy.

Rizx wound up at the prison mine, where the guards and some of the prisoners were abusive. She was denied a bunk, so she found a corner to sleep in and a tattered blanket and began planning her escape.

Class: rogue (theif)

Notable skills or abilities:
She can see quite a way into the dark, very handy in the mine.
Can climb very well, knows her knots, and how to use a block and tackle.
Able to pick locks, improvising her own lockpicks, disarm simple traps – or set them.
Rizx is a scrounger, she can palm items and pick pockets.
Swims like a fish.

Anything else: has crude lockpicks.