"Say, Dolly. Would you like to go outside and see the city? We could also eat lunch while we're at it. There's food out there that I can't make here." Nick offered.
"What? Are we going on a date!? " Dolly was completely stunned. Her tendrils stood up right. Her eyes wide and a cold shiver of fear running down her spine. She ran upstairs without saying a word. She locked her door and rushed through her boxes. "Where is it, where is it?..." She knew she had it hidden here somewhere.. "Ah! There it is..." In her hands was a comic-book. "The adventures of badman, issue 43, 3d reprint: Badman goes on a date." She scrolled through the pages as the hero in leather was seduced by a sexy woman in a red dress with a red purse.
She quickly changed her hairstyle to be more like the one in the book. She pulled on a red dress over her clothes and put on high heels. She rummaged through another one of her boxes and found a red purse with make-up in it. Putting on some make-up that resembled a clown more than an actual human being, she smudged her face in powder. Forgetting she was still wearing her average day attire underneath, she ran into the door. After landing on the floor with a heavy "Thump!", she messed up her hair and wrinkled her clothes. (Even though she might have also lost a heel,) She got up from the floor, unlocked the door, walked down the stairs and said loudly:
"Oh, my Nick, you would take me to which establishment? "
She had rolled up the comic and tried to hide it in her purse as best she could. One of her tendrils was still up, the other was down.
Decided. This isn't finished, but a short beginning.
Name: Ravadon of Xyllodan (Rav, Don, Ravaladon of Meramune, Ravaladon of Aven.) Image: How you got here: By boat.
Background:
The ballad of the first leaf. Ravadon was born, as youngest of 3, into a wealthy family, “Sroon Aven, Safeffe Aven, Ravadon Aven.” The city of AvenHault was even named after their family. However, when his birth was taking place, the town was under a heat wave. His mother barely had the power to allow for his birth. Being stuck halfway, the doctors decided to cut him out of his mother. The dagger that pierced her, hit the baby in his eye-lid. And surprisingly enough, the baby dropped out the natural way. The father had caught Ravadon. And of course, he was a man and did what men do in this culture when they see a small smirk of blood. They whipe it off, firmly. Which is how he got his name. It then also means “The emperor comes, the blooded beggar leaves.” Ravadon, already marked for life from before being born, would be holding grudges against his family. Though they were important as landlords of the city, providing both the wealthy and the poor with homes, they were not the uttermost wealthy living in town. This was not given knowledge to the general public.
The ballad of branches. Mallock Aven, his father, provided him with all his siblings no longer required. Be it a set of cooking pots, princess gowns or an expired horse. Needless to say, he had access to all he desired. Parental love, great compassion for things handed down to him and, of course, the cleaning and scrubbing tools he needed to take care of his personal beauty. This made him look more than decent enough to marry any woman he’d so desire. Even the kings daughter, Melanoi was not out of his reach. But he missed something, something that couldn’t be rewarded by it being given to him. He had a desire for his own glory, possessions and earnings denied to him. His urge became nearly an obsession as it was denied to him so fiercely. “Oh, my boy, why would you go and risk your life working or fighting, when you can freely get your siblings bard to write tales about you?” ‘My boy’. Oh, how he disliked those words beyond compare. It was his mother’s way of telling him he wouldn’t be able to do it, though she told him in that same conversation that he could do anything he wanted. His mother taught him many things, though she knew not that she taught him to twist words and drive through his will, even unto others. At the age of 12, this young boy had been a happy, hunger-free scrap-user.
The ballad of fall. 13. The year everything changed. Ravadon rebelled against his parents and their protective behavior. Ravadon would go and get himself in all sorts of trouble. The time he set ablaze a corrupt guards house was the cherry on the cake for him and the droplet that breaks the bucket for his parents. Not only would they beat him, disown him and get him thrown in jail, they planned on doing it did it publicly. A wealthy patron of the circus heard(by spying of course, the siblings bards were well undercover) about this young ambitious risk-taker. Not hesitating, he told the family he could take the boy on an adventure with the circus. It would take them past mages and monsters, though not actually being in harms way. In return, he would drop (on their very table as they stood there looking at it) more gold(in special wealth-people coins) than their family had ever earned combined and multiplied. The little rebel caught notion of what was discussed in the room next door. He had, in fact, spend time learning things from bards rather than instructing them. As soon as the table was filled, Ravadon learned the way greed was a motive his parents upheld. He decided to not deny himself such pleasure..
The ballad of promise.
Having taken part of the money his parents were given, the young boy, a teenager now, was sent off on a journey that would change his life. In more ways sorrow than the little hero would know. Being saved public embarrassment, he proceeded to be more lenient towards his new caretakers. They let him do all the things he wanted all by himself. He wanted to start a fire, he could gather the rocks, the wood and figure out a way to make it spark. He wanted to sleep late in a tavern, the circus left him behind. Life was well for the young man as he sought out a person to be his master at arms. After all, if he was going to make a name for himself, he would do it by having monsters slain by his own hand. It didn’t take long for him to realize there was only one person that could tell him, who of all the capable people could be his trainer, the old blind sage that owned the fate-telling section of the circus. He entered the room. Cards would represent his future.
Ballad of Cards The first card was that of the warrior. The second was a map, travel along a road. The third was the card of ballads, song and praise. The fourth was a card of powerful magical conflict. The fifth displayed a serpent, more specifically, a wyvern. The sixth was a ‘lady death’ card. The last was a family tree, the symbol for birth and life. The old man told him.. ‘Sonny, you are destined for something great. Never let anyone tell you you’re not worth what you work for. These cards will fade.. as does time… This is the last time I will read cards. There’s no more to see.. Keep the cards. Let them remind you and keep you from fear. The promise remains.. and until fulfilled, you shall not die.” The winter would follow would caused bandits and marauders to attack caravans and travelers. The boy was going home. He had been traveling for a year now. The circus came back to the town they left during its 14th year of existence.
The ballad of Ice.
A warrior card, surely it would be him! He said to himself as he rolled into town with the circus. He could completely picture it. The trumpet sounds as he arrived, becoming a master swordsman. Battle-noises and the ecstatic screams of the women and children all loving him and his glory. The towns bells being rang. Fire, Fire! Fight, Fight! All chanting as he stepped forward to defeat his enemies. Bar the doors! Hide the women and children! They totally wanted to capture him and a glimpse to bask in his glory. Protecting their women and children from his good looks, afraid to lose them. The Hunara bandits are attacking! The hunara.. wait what?
It was not long before the town was overrun. Big and mighty basilisks broke through the walls of the city. The guards were either dead or about to be. The horses were captured, the bears released. One of the bandits picked up the boy from the wagon. Ha! I found one for the stake! Ravadon couldn’t resist the grip from the bandits firm armored grasp. He was carried and thrown unto before the leader of the Hunara, Cho Samoth. “Tell me, why should you be left alive?” Ravadon spilled on how he would be a warrior. Cho laughed at the little boy. Threw a 2-handed great-sword at his feet and told him to pick it up. The boy tried as best he could. Lifting the handle unto one of his shoulders, Cho tested him. “Tell me, why do I want a warrior when I have so many?“ Barely able to hold himself up, Ravadon answered him. “Because I’m the face you need to keep your gold and your people. I can read, I can write. I can provide you into the house of might!” He thought of his greedy parents and how he’d always forget the key in a pot nearby the entrance. “Go on!” Cho commanded. Sending 2 guards with the boy. And surely, he came back with every last penny paid for his release unto the circus. His family now brought before Cho. Cho asked the boy a final question: “What is more.. a son or a coin?” The family assumed they were home free and started hugging already. The real shock came when Ravadon’s answer came: “A coin.” The Hunara bandits razed the village. With the gold payed for him, the entire kingdom would follow soon. Cho ordered one of his recruiters to take care of the boy. To pay him a single coin and murder everyone before him because they deemed him not capable of killing anyone with his weak arms. The warrior card in his hand faded. The old man that had given him the cards had a request. To bleed over the coin as he died. The old man, by chanting a few spells enchanted the coin to supply an endless amount of blood at dripping speeds. The boy was now traumatized even worse. Every person he ever knew kneeled before him and died. The years that followed he would travel many miles. And until he was powerful enough to replace and bring justified death unto Cho, he would be one of them.. A bandit with Stockholm Syndrome. He was kept in a cage the first 3 months. He went from fighting chickens to fighting boars and even cows. This boy was brought up to be strong. He earned 1 coin every fight he won. After that time, the latest of captains in the Hunara ranks got assigned to train the boy. He taught him backstabbing, sword fighting and which types of species he could expect to encounter in the journey. It did not help him a lot that before then he was helpless when he was also sexually abused by this very person for 3 months long.
Ballad of Mead.
But the training persevered… In the cities they heisted, bombarded and plundered, Ravadon was the one sneaking around telling the hidden children to remain hidden. Bringing out weak and feeble old men that wanted to die fighting if he absolutely had to. He proceeded to be a man with very little patience. And with a child offering him a coin he was reminded why he was that way. You cannot get praise without people to praise you… it started gaining on him. His morals were now so backwards from what they were. He clenched the coin and put it in his blooded coin bag. It was time… In the highway tavern he gathered the coins he had and threw a party. Cho was amused by his new protégé. “First he works for coins, now he’d spend them on the person who paid him.” The party was a success.. or rather.. reason to excess. Drunk. And that’s exactly what he needed. To get them all nice and slow. While sniffing through Cho’s stuff he remembered what they always said about him. “A wench without a future.”… Would he really crave the praise from thugs? No.. that just isn’t right. Besides.. everyone laughed at him anyways.. The childs coin was burning on his moral conscience. Had he really forgotten who he was… No… the blood in his bag was proof of who he was. He might have had a promise, but it was his moment to make it happen. He found Cho’s private journal. In full amazement, he found out everything about the Hunara. Their safewords, their treasury.. their purchase history… everything. Though his normal memory was superb. Everything in song he would know forever. He would remember, no matter how bad the rhythm…
And humming to himself as he went towards the tavern, he considered his options… being a lousy bandit for the rest of his life or try to get word out somehow and end this madness. He’d need a real distraction.. people wanting him to go do something else… He might know a messenger, but it would take too long to reach him on foot without someone noticing. If he could even remember what to say…
As he approached the tavern, he knew heard singing in different tones and it made him almost forget his song. He needed to write it down or have them sing it. He wouldn’t get away from these people, neither have a shot at that journal again for.. too long. The journal’s locations would have all been changed by then. But how? Who was going to listen to him? Even if he had their attention, He couldn’t learn these men to read. They were too uncultured.. they wouldn’t know ‘fine wine’ from ‘toxic poison’ until they drank it. He couldn’t hope to teach them the song by letting them read it … By singing, though..
It struck him. Irony! A joke!
He knew he could let them sing along if they were drunk. He knew he could dance and keep anyone serious from shutting him down. He knew how to get to Cho, he knew the locations of all the Hunara hideouts..
He just needed something to make a noise.. or a.. dynamic entry! Taking his options into consideration, he would have to do it tonight. The full moon was upon him. He crawled up the tavern side, took out one of the swords he’d received over the many years and cut a hole into the roof. He left the lid on, but he would have to remember it’s spot in pitch darkness..
He came in ignoring everyone and everything. As did most of the people there. The central fire which lit the room, he swiftly threw a cloak over. The room was suddenly in an angry uproar. A swooping dagger sounded. Moonlight came unto a table. A table with one person standing on it. The room turned to see Ravadon shout “Cho is fat, cho is wet!” As he scooped a drinking horn from the table and bit of its end to use it. The room was needle drop dead silent. A few blades left their sheath. As he started to produce a tune on the horn and throbbing his foot against the floor, the people started slapping and clapping along on the table. “Cho is fat, cho is wet” The other musicians started playing along, the people who now were certain of what the young boy said, started laughing and dancing. As he took a small torch and threw it back on the central fireplace, he could leave the spotlight. The song Was loud through the tavern. He blew his horn mighty and started to sing the second part. “Rav is way better, he is from Meramune!” Some people now got slightly offended and started coming after him. He started running and dancing his way through the room. It may have been the chaos, the spotlight entry, the very many liters of ale, just plane luck.. but all of his moves were copied. The dancing prevented him from getting caught. He jumped from table to table, avoiding the angry crowd. Ant there was laughter when they tripped, there was joy when he kicked mugs at them. The place became alive and every note he’d add to the song the people would savor for hours on end. Eventually Cho himself stood up. The atmosphere completely made a 180.”Enough. I’ve heard enough. “ He stook out his arm. The smile on Ravadons face turned to a surprised and serious one. Depending on what followed he might get slaughtered by all of the tenor and the bass “You! You are our new bard! Someone get him some paper! And take it from the top. This will be our anthem song for the ages!“ He rose his hand and landed back on his seat. “A toast to the hero of the East!” The entire room toasted along. “To Ravadon of Meramune!” Laughter broke out and the singing started all over again. Paper, song.. He could send himself a letter! Giving the unreadable letter to his contact, he would sneak into the next city “exploring.” But in reality warning the authorities and getting back at cho for what he took from him.
The ballad of Roses. The morning came. The courier had done his part. As planned he went in and scouted the city streets, arriving openly for the king. As the king was highly confused by the letter that he received only earlier that day. When He sang a song about himself, Ravadon of Meramune, he remembered every last word of the journal. The king was shocked to hear he was willing to trade his entire band of bandits in for a single coin. The king brought a choir. As Ravadon directed the choir, he presented the information to the general and the scribes. Hence forth he became known as Ravadon of Meramune. And (ironically enough) the capital city of Meramune rewarded him with a home, access to inform the army while they were at war with the Hunara and even a family. He was renowned throughout the city. He was given a place on the battlefield. Little did he know, his journey card had become faded. As he was in the mages tower where they thought him to enchant and evoke, he undertook travel to various caves and often. He was always the first to get the treasury of the Hunara. He’d ensure to take the very best piece of equipment before telling the king of what he found. Logically, the king would tax him over what he found. Leaving him with a green cape(dark on the inside with cowl, without face mask), Half armored in a shoulder pauldron with breast-piece both metallic in color, various swords. But most important of which Excelsis Deo. A weapon that could be infused with enchantments without ever running out or forgetting which it has had before. Gloves of Red icesteel, armguards of red icesteel were his reward for helping these old few wizards and enchanters.
Reinforced fur boots(fur shin-guards, metallic boots), he created himself.
Besides the ballads and the praise in every tavern, a transparent belt with metal-wooden buckle of brute force was his reward from the king.
A short and finely woven white scarf around his neck, hid away the amulet of a blooded coin.
A sky-blue tunic that was torn on the upper part of his left sleeve, a small red kilt revealing the muscled shape of his thighs made up the rest of his own purchased clothes.
Yes, they did know how to spell fashion, sadly.. He protected the kingdom for 5 years. In that time he’d not only won the hearts of the people, but also of the king.
And the king would gift him his daughter and a kingdom with it. Ravadon would have accepted.. but living with his wife becoming a concubine, there would be very little problems. The only true problem that would arise was that the king had 2 daughters. Soon Ravadon would know to either demand both or to reject an offer. Both of these women looked gorgeous. Both were proficient in the use of magic. But one had the character of a serpent, the other of a little girl. As their ages did differ a subtle 9 years. His natural inclination was to choose the older, the serpent. But after seeing how she would use transmutation and evocation to try and actually kill her sister, no money involved or anything, he couldn’t help but feel disgusted.
Ravadon would now build himself up to choose one of the 2 ladies to be his lawful wife. He entered the chamber where he’d make the decision only to find the two ladies throwing around spells at each other. As fire and goo flew through the room, he dived in to protect the young from the serpent. The older sister was even more outraged that he wouldn’t choose her over “that little tree huger”. She rampaged. She transmutated herself to be a dragon. More specifically, a wyvern. The wyvern breathed fire through the chambers and through the halls of the city. It was rampaging, destroying buildings, families and ruining life everywhere.
By an ancient divination spell, the young daughter (who had magical resistance and was still bleeding) stabilized the one she loved. Ravadon was now unconscious. As she looked at the hopelessness of the situation, she could do no other… She, Xyllodan, would take Excelsis Deo and fell the beast. As she grew wings of eagles, she flew up high, mightily high. She’d smitten the foul beast with a ray of lightning. The creature was now de-winged. It tried to get away as best she could, but she was no match for the weapons strikes. As her sister laid bleeding out, she would turn her into a dead tree.. never to harm anyone again. Upon flying back to her lover she realized he’d been awakened by the clashing of the sword and the skull of the creature. The girl now granted him the sword. As He took it, an idea flashed into his mind. A helmet. He might have been a mighty slayer of creatures.. but a helmet would be so much safer! He proceeded to marry Xyllodan. For he would be renamed again for slaying the beast. The young sister didn’t have great curves, but people recognized the blade used to slay the beast. The 2 made for a lovely couple. He would act big and dance a lot, she would be doing the actual political work. To his surprise the card was still glaring. Maybe this was something for later.. He made a helmet from the wood of a magical tree in the middle of the capital city. He would know it to be mere wood, but it could do great for protecting him. As time moved forward, the problems started. First it was conflict over who should get credit for stopping the wyvern, next there was the discussion of who should own the sword, the fight over the wooden helmet not being safe enough.. with every victory and successful protection of the city another fight would be waged in their marriage. Ultimately, he would be away for many days before he got back. In that time, he never noticed how his helmet had a strange red eye growing on its side. Because of him being away so often, his council ordered him to share his knowledge of his scripts, ballads with his wife. The woman would do the same in return. The rest of the time passed on. And again more and more fighting came over time. There was no helping it. But this time, yes, this time she could read his encrypted writing. The very writing he used as a journal the night of the sisters fight. And in it, there was the, to her accursed, claim that he would not choose her as a first pick. And this was that moment… the card burned. The magical conflict was over. She confronted him about his texts, he assumed this would pass. He tried to comfort her by saying she had won a great prize. In her return she’d slap him across the face. He would get angry and try to leave. She would scream out “open fire” as she transmuted, all that was left of the Hunara would jump from the shades. Realizing her betrayal, he lost his cool.. he lost all of his promising futures.. as he drew his sword the serpent card burned halfway through. Yet another wyvern was slain at the hands of a wielder of Excelsis Deo. He took the skin and got it wrapped around his helmet. A real dragon helmet. What more than appeal would a man need? The hero paraded the streets… but the people knew.. the people all knew.. Their kingdom now under rule of a man who had only eye for himself. They denied him the crown. They wouldn’t mind him joining a protectors or mercenary guild, but a lord he wouldn’t be while they lived. His price? But a single coin. He spend the rest of his days hunting all threats that weren’t a serpent, wyvern or a dragon. He knew what it would mean if he did.. the next card would not be in his favor… Having lost the will to live due to his ballads no longer being sung, he prepared himself to be old. The nation was re-using clockworks and he had no intention of giving up self-earned glory. He dropped out of society and started to travel by his last name… and that last name would come back to haunt him. He sought out dragons, wyverns, truly any beast of magical or powerful origin he hunted. Acquiring ropes, languages and more paper for him to write ballads on. It had been so very long. He sought out a spirit to grant him power beyond the promise of the card he held in his hand. He wanted it to make him a legend. A hero beyond compare. She said she had the answer for both cards and she’d fulfill his every dream for glory and power. She imbued(enchantment) his helmet with the power he desired. It would take the spirit of a beast first, though. Any beast he’d take would do, but she had a special one for him.
He sought out the cave she'd mentioned. As the cards burned in his hand, he walked in through a crack in the rocks. After a brief moment of flailing his bodyparts in any direction, he plunged face first into sandy floor of the human city Southhaven.
Powers, Abilities, & Equips:
Handy: Both left-handed and righthanded for sword fighting or ranged attacks. Excelsis Deo: A blade that sings the songs of Ravadon and makes the songs words come to life for a second. (i.e. the word tree makes a frame of wood surround the sword.) An appealing peeling of a peel peers apparently feel: Oddly sexy when eating fruit or vegetables.
Desired Class: Bard / fighter. Character Flaws: Overconfident in his own abilities. Obscured vision in his left eye. Bad temper when sleepy. Horrible handwriting. Holds bad grudges. Self-justification. Extreme vanity. Proud snob. Greedy. lusty. Famous Quotes: "Vegetables before dinner!"
Well.. If we do not recieve the extra player, We could always throw some serious dice(d10 + d100) in the mix with about 100 different actions on a list?
