Ancient Tides: A Tale of Sea and Sky

ANCIENT TIDES
A Tale of Sea and Sky

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The gods are dead. They left a lot behind - a functioning cycle of life and death, a heap of divine servants, corpses magical enough to become worlds in their own right - but they’re not coming back. In the eons since, countless mortal civilizations have risen on these many worlds, and over time, a few have even managed to reach beyond. They crossed the threshold, one by one, into the oldest realm of all. The realm of the gods. The birthplace of souls. The Astral Sea.

For thousands of years now, mortals have spread across the nine known seas, building towns and fledgling nations, constructing great ships, and moving further and further afield from the worlds they knew. On these seas, anything is possible, and even the lowliest of mortals can accomplish wonders - or die trying. It’s time to set sail.

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Welcome to Ancient Tides, a solo-adventure-focused game based on Pathfinder 2nd Edition, which is assuredly not inspired by any similar games in any way. In this game, you will take the role of powerful characters, living upon the seas of the Astral Plane, pursuing any number of lofty goals, and making their mark upon the grand and ancient realm of the gods. In mechanical terms, all characters will begin at level 10 (or attain that level of power soon after the start) - more than enough to start making a real impact. Beyond that, the game is largely a sandbox - your character’s goals are entirely up to you, and there is no “main plot” other than the plot your character follows.

As it would make for a very complicated game, I will not be constantly adhering to all of the mechanics of Pathfinder. Most things will take place on a more narrative layer, with rolls largely made by me in the background. Characters will have complete character sheets, which I am more than happy to collaborate with anyone on when the time comes to keep things simple.

Gameplay will be text-based and one-on-one for the most part - the primary medium will be PMs on this very forum, but if anyone would especially prefer, I can set things up to do it via Discord instead. I won’t rule out voiced solo sessions either, should anyone be particularly interested. “Crossovers” are also a distinct possibility, where your characters may meet each other for any number of adventures - but I won’t force those on anyone who isn’t remotely interested.

Finally, with regards to character options, all published options are allowed, in addition to playtest material (the Summoner and Magus classes) and approved homebrew options. Lore may differ, sometimes greatly, in this setting, but I won’t close off any specific options (for example, I’ve renamed lizardfolk to Solans and given them more of a Solarpunk Astronaut aesthetic). Feel free to ask me more via Discord if you want to know about some of the extra options or lore in this setting. I’m also allowing more over-the-top character ideas if you have them - if you had a really good idea for literally just playing a dragon, for instance, I wouldn’t rule it out.

Lore on the Seas

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The Astral Seas
The Astral Seas, collectively known by various names such as the Astral Plane or simply The Astral, form one of the main realms of existence (along with the Mortal Planes and various more esoteric realms). Each is an enormous expanse of matter and magic with differing physical properties, interwoven with the Astral Currents - rivers of magic and life energy that deliver souls to and from the many planes of mortals. Once the realm of the gods when they still lived eons ago, it’s only relatively recently that mortals have moved from their home planes and begun to claim bits and pieces of the Seas for themselves.

The Beating Sun
One of the smaller seas (relatively speaking, of course), The Beating Sun (often known simply as the Sun) is a star of titanic scale, sitting at the apex of the Sea of Stars. The Sun is much larger than the other stars, closer in scale to an actual real-world star. Its most notable property is that it “beats” or “pulses” over time, wavering between extremes of heat and light. The Sun is the origin of the Astral Currents, and plays a key part in the cycle of life and death as both the origin and final destination of souls - a cycle thought to be tied in some way to the solar cycles themselves. Many islands and continents orbit the Sun, some on its surface and some further away. Communities in this sea have to deal with the temperature extremes, one way or another - the furthest islands are freezing cold most of the year, while the nearest are practically superheated.

Common Ancestries: Solans, Leshies, Goblins, Ignans, Dragons, Dragonborn, Wyvarans, Kobolds, Elves, Aasimars, Tieflings, Duskwalkers, Weavers, Merfolk (Solar)

Black Ocean
Notable for being a more “traditional” sea, the Black Ocean is a vast ocean of dark water blanketed with grey clouds and frequent storms. Many islands, ranging from small rocks to entire continents, are spread all across the Ocean, as well as under it - there is no true sea floor in the Black Ocean. Though the exact number of planes connected to the Black Ocean is unknown, a particularly notable one is the doomed world of Aphaea - the plane of origin for humans, halflings, and dwarves. Said world was flooded long ago, and far more recently, its oceans were corrupted by the influence of an angry dead goddess, forcing a near-total evacuation through a series of mysterious mechanical portals known as the Great Gates - and as a consequence, bringing multiple new nations to the Ocean itself.

Common Ancestries: Humans, Dwarves, Halflings, Goblins, Orcs, Elves, Kobolds, Dragonborn, Merfolk, Selkies, Undines, Solans

Deep Wilds
The least-inhabited and perhaps least-explored of all the seas, the Deep Wilds is largely a foggy void, filled with countless floating islands and continents, each entirely overgrown with dense tangles of forest, jungle, and other masses of plantlife. Many of the islands of the Deep Wilds hold the ruins of some ancient civilization, but the sea as a whole resists any new attempts at settlement. The one exception is the city-state of Zenith, a city built at the intersection of two Astral Currents, ruled by seven immortal beings known as the Archons who have thus far managed to hold back the tide of nature. Its location makes Zenith a notable hub of trade, attracting people from all across the many seas.

Common Ancestries: All (Zenith), None (anywhere else)

Special Note: As Zenith and the Deep Wilds will be the core of my upcoming campaign in this setting, I would prefer to not have it be the main setting for any character in this game. It’s a place you can visit or even live in when you’re not adventuring, but I won’t set anyone’s entire plot here.

Eschatos, the Divine Sea
Thought to be the first sea populated after the death of the Old Gods, Eschatos is a great sky filled with many layers of floating islands, great and beautiful continents, and craggy chambers of fire, brimstone, and all sorts of other wonderful things. Eschatos is the home of the many, many varieties of fiends, celestials, and other such beings that once served the Old Gods. Many distinct states exist here, some the fiercely-guarded domains of many of the New Gods, others at least nominally independent of all that. Here, numerous afterlifes exist, shaped by the gods that oversee them - and while there’s nothing physically stopping mortals from entering while still alive, it’s generally very frowned upon. Politically, the Eschatos is mainly divided between two major powers - the Infernal Host and the Celestial Pact, forming a rough political division between fiends and celestials. The squabbles of the two main powers, the affairs and relationships of many gods, major and minor, and the sheer amount of distinct divine states makes this sea a busy place indeed.

Common Ancestries: Aasimars, Tieflings

The Grand Tempest
Put simply, the Grand Tempest is an enormous, eternal storm. The whole sea is filled with dark clouds, raging winds, and precipitation of all sorts. Offshoots of the Tempest regularly drift into other, adjacent seas, forming a wide variety of sometimes-devastating storms. The Grand Tempest is notable for being nearly impassable - no reliable passage has been found through via the Astral Currents, and off-Current travel is, for obvious reasons, incredibly dangerous. Those few explorers who claim to have navigated the Tempest successfully speak of untold wonders in the seas beyond, but their claims are rather hard to verify. Despite everything, the Grand Tempest is not uninhabited, though many of its inhabitants have little contact with the other known seas.

Common Ancestries: Sylphs, Djinn, Dragons, Elementals, Other Unknowns

Midnight Sea
The Midnight Sea is, first and foremost, noteworthy for its total lack of natural light. Darkness is almost tangible in this sea, with massive bodies of supernatural darkness forming oceans of a sort. Even the land that floats here, both on and above the seas of shadow, is dark, made of obsidian and similar materials. The Astral Currents flicker and dim here, and a pall of negative energy is cast over everything - making the Midnight Sea a place where undead thrive. Still, the living thrive in a few pockets - most notably the draconic theocracy of Serkath, where light is worshipped and spread far and wide across this dark place.

Common Ancestries: Undead of all sorts, Dhampir, Kobolds, Dragonborn, Wyvarans, Dragons

Sea of Stars
Both the largest and the emptiest of the known seas, the Sea of Stars is a void with exceptionally thin air, dotted with thousands of stars - enormous balls of life energy, arcane power, and incandescent plasma that wash the void with brilliant light. Gravity is strange in the Sea of Stars, allowing masses of all shapes and sizes to orbit the stars, and navigation requires accounting for these orbital mechanics. The bodies orbiting the stars come in all shapes and sizes, the largest being the size of particularly large moons. A number of these planetoids are inhabited by mortal societies of all sorts, one of the most notable being a coalition of many different worlds known as the Solar Federation. The Sea of Stars is finally notable for being connected to many different seas and planes, forming a starry night sky and allowing for travel to many different places.

Common Ancestries: Solans, Tengu, Catfolk, Wyvarans, Kobolds, Dragonborn, Weavers

Shattered Sea
As the name might imply, the Shattered Sea is a sea that was utterly ravaged in the distant past, leaving it a broken mess. What shape the sea took before is unclear, with much of its land now being shattered, glassed, or melted into a radioactive soup. The sea is flooded harshly by both the formless chaos beyond the universe and by raw, unfiltered life energy from several broken stars, making it incredibly inhospitable. Despite this, though, life does still thrive in places - most notably the broken world of the serpentine ouros, one of the main species of mortal to originate in this place. Speculation is that the Shattered Sea was the site of an ancient battle, as evidenced by the remains of several gods that form the majority of the land in this sea, as well as the Leviathan - a dead creature of truly immense scale, whose surface is home to countless materials of magical value, for those foolish enough to brave the journey.

Common Ancestries: Ouros, Slimes, Proteans, Goblins, Orcs

Subterrane
The Subterrane is a vast network of caverns, connecting between many different seas and planes. It is mainly made up of chambers in a variety of sizes, the largest many hundreds or thousands of miles across - these largest chambers tend to vary greatly in composition and contents, hosting entirely different biospheres and such. The layout of the Subterrane is notable for its inconsistency - while the large chambers remain mostly static, smaller tunnels shift around far more frequently, with major shifting events occurring regularly at the Beating Sun’s apex. As the caves shift, so, do connections to the seas and planes beyond - drawing in new life, minerals, and other matter to populate the caves’ many chambers. New minerals tend to emerge in the Subterrane after these shifting events, with some speculation that the caves regularly feed on new places to produce them. Evidence for the caves being “alive” in some sense, though, is so far inconclusive.

Common Ancestries: Dwarves, Terrans, Humans, Goblins, Hobgoblins, Ratfolk, Dragons, Kobolds, Dragonborn, Wyvarans

The Planes
Beyond the seas, there are many, many planes of existence, ranging in size from a single small planet to an entire solar system. Each plane is formed from the remains of an Old God, who died in an ancient age. The vast majority of planes have developed life, and specifically the sapient sort of life usually called “mortals”. The number of planes is uncertain, and there are potentially hundreds or thousands - certainly there are many more than those currently known. Save for the ouros, almost all mortals have their origins in one plane or another.

Everyone applying should fill out the following character bio first - you can either post it here or just send it to me. I won’t be able to let too many people in, but if I don’t get an excess of submissions I’ll try to accommodate as many people as I can (eight will be my absolute maximum). Once I’ve approved people to play, I’ll help with character creation - but of course, feel free to think about what you want to play as you fill this out.

Name: Your character’s name.
Description: A description of your character, both in terms of appearance and personality.
Place of Origin: The place your character comes from. Town, nation, sea, plane, whichever. Feel free to ask me about more specific options for this.
Bio: You may ask yourself, “How did I get here?” This should explain how your character reached level 10 - or if you want to start at a lower level, give an idea of how you will get there near the game’s start.
Ambition: What do you want to accomplish? This can be general or specific, but this is the section most likely to determine what your character’s story is about, so make sure it’s something interesting.
Contacts: Who do you know? Relatives, friends, business contacts, mortal enemies, etc. Define as many or as few as you want here.

Name: Isolde Ceryar

Description: Isolde is around twenty years old, with dark brown hair, green eyes, and fair-yet-tanned skin. Strong and hardy, she stands at around 5'11", and wears typical lower class clothing (basic trousers, boots, and shirts). Notably, she still wears her shabby dark grey longcoat, a sign of her old gang affiliation. As a street brawling gang member become sailor, she also has a number of tattoos, including a rather large tattoo of the three sea goddesses on her right forearm and a lifelike tattoo of her parents on her right forearm (done so that she'd never forget their faces). A stylized tattoo of the various gang leaders she took down in her youth is across her back.

Place of Origin: Blackhaven, Nereiian Empire

Bio:

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Isolde was born to Howell and Nia Ceryar, the second of two children, in a rather damp shack on the rural outskirts of Blackhaven. Her family had been lower class since their arrival in the Black Ocean with the collapse of the old world, though Howell often told his daughter that the Ceryars had once been important long ago. That sense of lost importance gave her father some amount of pride, and allowed him to hold his head high in daily life, even if he didn't know precisely what had been lost.

In the early years, Howell worked as a farm laborer while Nia worked as a dressmaker. Howell prided himself on his supposedly important heritage, his excellent work ethic, his honest character, and his responsibility to his family. He was as strong as an ox, stood at a solid 6'2", had a head full of blond hair, and was very slow to anger. Once riled, Howell was known to be an unstoppable bare-knuckle fighter, having once beaten down an entire gang of ruffians when they dared suggest his wife take up prostitution to pay the bills. Nia was a cunning and playful young woman, always quick with a joke, who worked hard to raise her kids while making clothing to supplement the family income. She had black hair, emerald green eyes, a thin build, and was somewhat tall. In those days, Isolde spent a lot of time playing with her older brother Bailey. Carefree bordering on careless, Bailey was constantly trapped in his own imagination, daydreaming frequently of great adventures. He had bright blond hair, his father's hazel eyes, and a constantly-smiling face.

The first nine years out in the country were the good years, before the farmwork dried up and the Ceryars were forced to move their family into the city. Exchanging their cozy, damp shack for a dirty, damp apartment, Howell began working in a fish cannery owned by Edgar P. Kratchett while Nia took up work as a seamstress in Ebenezer Rollingford's clothing factory. Their free time rapidly disappeared as they worked hard to eke out a meager living, and Howell eventually started working double-shifts to get his children into school. There, both Bailey and Isolde learned to read and write, as well as basic arithmetic. Isolde even took up drawing, and made a number of family sketches over those couple years.

Then, in Isolde's eleventh year, the bad times truly began. Bloodlung came to Blackhaven, ravaging the populace as the epidemic spread through the city. The entire family ended up getting the illness when Howell's co-workers caught it, and they were all soon plagued with bloody coughing fits, weight loss, and muscle fatigue that left them bedridden. Their income dried up, the bills mounted, and the children were forced out of school. Isolde and Bailey recovered rapidly, as the virus fortunately spared healthy children. Howell and Nia, however, began to waste away as their conditions worsened.

In desperation, Isolde turned to a local street gang known as the Longcoats and led by the infamous Longcoat Lonnie. A tall, thin duelist and off-his-shits former banker, Lonnie was known for his theatrics, flair, dramatics, style, and paternalistic mentality towards his gang. The gang had a penchant for making bootleg medicine, crafted off a recipe lifted from a local pharmaceutical factory. In exchange for a dose here and there, as well as some "low interest loans" for the family, Isolde began running jobs for the gang. As she was a child, this mostly amounted to pickpocketing, distracting police, and getting through tight spaces. Her parents often asked where the medicine kept coming from, and Isolde (wary of her father's honesty) fabricated a story of wealthy donors to ease their consciences. At this time, Bailey was mostly out, finding work on fishing boats to keep himself fed. He sent a little to the house here and there, but mostly looked after himself.

Howell died first, passing the night of Isolde's twelfth birthday. At the time of his death, his formerly-massive 6'2" frame weighed a little less than ninety pounds. His eyes were sunken, his face skeletal, and his strength completely gone. His last words to Isolde were "Happy birthday, darling. Happy birthday. I love you. I love you very much."

He'd even found the strength to hug her.

The Longcoats handled the funeral, cremating Howell's body and giving Isolde the ashes. By this point, Longcoat Lonnie had taken a real fatherly liking to Isolde, and had taken it upon himself to take care of her as her family died. In her mother's final months, Isolde was able to stay at her bedside, taking care of her as she hoped for the recovery that proved fleeting. Nia had clung to life for three months after Howell, vowing and praying to every god and goddess she knew that her child wouldn't be an orphan. She too died, a skeletal shadow of her former self, and her funeral was once more handled by the Longcoats.

"Those debts? The medicine? Lonnie has them covered," Longcoat Lonnie had told her. "You just pay me back when you get the money, Little Jackdaw. And if you need anything? You come to the Longcoats."

Bailey, by this point, had become incredibly distant. Gone were the days the two of them would play together, and laugh out in the fields. When they'd talk, he'd speak constantly of the sea, of becoming a smuggler and making a fortune and lifting the both of them out of the squalor. The day after the funeral, he left Blackhaven behind, leaving a note for his twelve year old sister.

Dear sister,

I'm going off to sea. I know you can handle yourself, so I'm not going to worry. Don't fear for me, I'm going to make a fortune on the high seas. When I do? I'll come back for you. Until then, you stay safe.

See you soon,
Bailey

This move may not have bothered Bailey much, but it left Isolde heartbroken. She felt abandoned, alone, and in a city that didn't give a single remote shit about her. Not except for the Longcoats, whose leader had been nothing but kind to her. With no other choice, she went to the Longcoats and asked to join their gang. This got a good chuckle out of the gang, who thought of Isolde as something of a mascot. A poor little orphan that Lonnie had adopted as a sympathy project.

Isolde was serious. She had nowhere to go, a mountain of debt to Lonnie that she intended to pay back, and a whole lot of resentment and anger brewing inside her. The rich and powerful had abandoned her family, yet the Longcoats offered an alternative. Freedom from the tyranny of laws, and a way to defy the rich and powerful.

Longcoat Lonnie smiled, and accepted Isolde with open arms.

She threw herself completely into her work for the gang, learning to fight and steal as she grew up. She developed an erratic, wild fighting style filled with flair and showmanship, inspired by the flashy theatrics of Longcoat Lonnie. With time, and a lot of beatdowns, she began to get stronger. At fourteen, she was taking part in battles against rival gangs. By fifteen, she was probably the most dangerous Longcoat there was.

By then the Longcoats had entered open warfare with the Alleycats, a rival gang led by the infamous Nine-Clawed Abby. Renowned for dabbling in the occult, as well as her sharp claws, she'd had the upper hand against the Longcoats for years. She'd given Longcoat Lonnie a fair few scars, and the man didn't seem too keen to attract her ire. Instead, when the Alleycats next edged in on Longcoat turf, it was Isolde who led the counter-attack against them. Cleaving through man after man, the alley was soon coated in Alleycat blood.

That's when the Longcoats began to hear a song, chanted around them by ethereal, childlike voices.

"Nine-Clawed Abby crawlin' down the alley, tip tap tip tap you better not-a-dally tip tap tip tap she's keepin' up a tally..."

From the opposite end of the alley, Nine-Clawed Abby did indeed stalk, running her claws along the wall. Wearing a mask of bone and a coat of feathers, she struck a terrifying visage that caused Isolde's fellow gang members to back away.

Not fifteen year old Isolde. She stood her ground and prepared to fight. Laughing a sick laugh, Nine-Clawed Abby charged in, utilizing a mixture of magic and claw to level an onslaught against the young Longcoat. Wielding her sword with skill, Isolde managed to hold her off, then began using the environment against her as she fell into an onslaught of her own loaded with flair and theatrics. Abby was knocked off her game, and soon fell when Isolde launched a surprise sword through her gut. Crying out in agony, she then vanished in a cloud of feathers.

Isolde never saw her again.

Celebrated as 'Screaming Izzy' by her fellow Longcoats, she would lead her gang to several more victories over the years. Suave ol' Saxon of the Saxon Crew lost his tongue and fingers when Isolde bested him at sixteen, while the Mace (leader of the Aces) lost his legs to her blade when she was seventeen. The last and most frightening one was the leader of the Delusionists: an individual known only as The Most Magnificent Master Mirror. They'd fought Isolde with a wide variety of illusions, only to finally go down with a single, lucky, well-placed sword strike. Their body had then fallen out a fourth story window and vanished.

Isolde also never saw THEM again.

By then, Isolde was nineteen, and things were looking up for the Longcoats. They'd defeated their rival gangs, and were well on their way to locking down control of South Blackhaven. Lonnie treated Isolde like a daughter, and she viewed him as a father. Things were looking up!

And that's when the hammer came down. The City Watch, concerned at the growing power of the Longcoats, decided to put an end to them. They launched an aggressive, full-scale investigation into the Longcoats, uncovered a treasure trove of evidence and testimony against them, and rolled out in force to take them down. Isolde was willing to go down fighting, but Lonnie dissuaded her.

"There are some battles you just shouldn't fight, my Jackdaw," he'd said to her when the City Watch surrounded their headquarters. "If we fight here? We all die. If we surrender, some may yet live. I'm going to surrender. Try to live for Ol' Lonnie, eh?"

Isolde, being an impetuous nineteen year old, refused to accept this. Going outside and facing the City Watch, she frantically demanded to fight their best for the honor of the Longcoats. Their best ended up being a terrifying Dwarven paladin named Rorik the Righteous, who beat Isolde down after a short but ferocious fight.

Most of the gang was arrested, tried in criminal courts, and promptly sent to prison. A few were executed when they refused to serve the state. Isolde herself was given that choice: either face the executioner's block or serve aboard a privateer vessel for twenty years. Humbled and wishing to stay alive, Isolde chose the latter.

And so Screaming Izzy joined the crew of Restless Reggie Barnes, a privateer in the service of the Nereiian Empire. For a whole year, Isolde served aboard his ship, fighting battle after battle as Reggie took his prizes. In the process, she earned a nickname from her fellow crew: The Screaming Saber. If not for her past gang affiliations, she would've likely been promoted. As it was, Reggie reminded her that she was lucky to have her head.

One day, as Reggie's crew rested in Blackhaven, Isolde sat down at a bar and ordered a drink. After she dropped her own name during a conversation with the bartender, he reacted with surprise.

"Huh. Any relation to a deadbeat by the name of Bailey Ceryar?" he asked.

"No, why?" she asked, surprised at the mention of her brother.

"Ah, heard he got caught by the Hunter's bunch a few weeks back," the barkeep told her.

At that, a feeling of mild panic ran over Isolde, coupled with exasperation that she was ONCE AGAIN having to deal with her brother's bullshit.

"Do you know where?" Isolde asked the barkeep.

"Why, you know him?" he'd asked again.

"I might. Tell me what you know."

"That deadbeat owes a hell of a tab. Pay off half and I'll tell you everything."

With a sigh Isolde paid the bastard. In return, she received information on his last known location, the crew he'd been traveling with, and some vague details about the pirate who had captured him.

That night, she slipped out of her bunk aboard the Sea Spirit and onto a passenger ship heading to the closest port possible to Bailey's last known location. It was fortunately outside the Empire's borders, though perhaps not outside its reach.

Restless Reggie would probably have her head for this.

Ambition: She wants to rescue her stupid idiot asshole of a brother, avoid the executioner's block, and maybe get her old gang out of prison someday. That'd be nice.

Contacts:

SpoilerShow

Howell Ceryar - Father, deceased.

Nia Ceryar - Mother, deceased.

Bailey Ceryar - Brother. Two years older than Isolde. When she knew him, he was a careless, self-centered ass with an intense case of wanderlust. Who knows, maybe he's gotten better? Considering he never did come back for his younger sister, the answer is probably not.

Lon "Longcoat Lonnie" Coleman, 46 - Former leader of the Longcoats and father figure. Longcoat Lonnie was a banker who went off his shits and turned to a life of crime. After her parents died, he basically adopted Isolde and trained her into the terrifying criminal she is today. In terms of strategic leadership of his gang, Longcoat Lonnie is very cautious and strategic. However, when he chooses to act, he usually goes all-in with the theatrics, flair, and style. It's all or nothing with Longcoat Lonnie.

Restless Reggie Barnes, 37 - Captain of the Sea Spirit and Isolde's former commanding officer service of the Nereiian Empire. He's a short, squat, powerfully-built square of a man with ferocious red hair and bright blue tattoos covering most of his body. He is pure daring and determination. Isolde actually likes the guy, but it is what it is.

Bartholomew "The Hunter" Huntsman, 26 - A ferocious pirate who captured Bailey. Isolde doesn't know much about the situation. 

Rorik the Righteous, 110 - An incredibly lawful paladin in service to some Dwarven justice deity. He beat her once in a fight, and she's not too keen to repeat the experience.

Nine-Clawed Abby, ??? - Former leader of the Alleycats. Isolde beat her in a duel when she was fifteen, but she never did find the body. Abby is kind of terrifying, uses a lot of occult nonsense, has sharp claws.

Emil "Suave ol' Saxon" Saxon, 45 - Former leader of the Saxon Crew. A super charismatic bard with a penchant for heists and negotiations, ultimately had his tongue cut out and his fingers smashed to pieces by a very angry Isolde.

Conrad "The Mace" Clubb, 34 - Former leader of the Aces. A very angry barbarian, he wrathfully insisted that he used a MACE, not a club, and that his name wasn't the Ace of Clubs!

The Most Magnificent Master Mirror, ??? - Former leader of the Delusionists. A master of illusions, Isolde is pretty sure they aren't dead.

Name:
Vargrim of Clan Magthurdam, aka Old Ironfoot

Description:
Vargrim is an old dwarf. He wears his white hair pulled back and his equally-white beard in a single braid. Though he has many more years before he is truly wizened, anyone can tell from looking at him - by his hair, his wrinkles, the slight hunch to his gait - that he is past his prime.

Place of Origin:
Vargrim's home city is named Mount Drakum, or more formally in dwarven, the Royal Mountainhome of the Eighty-Two Clans of Drakum-Unghar. Mount Drakum is also known to outsiders and travellers as the Red Peak, while Drakum-Unghar is referred to as the Kingdom of the Nomadic Mountains.

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As the exonym suggests, Drakum-Unghar practices an unusual form of astral travel, where entire floating mountains are magically mobilized and controlled, roaming the astral sea. The settlers build their cities inside these roaming mountains, mostly travelling the Subterrane and its neighbouring seas. The ability to move entire cities around helps with commerce, though the slow pace of mountain travel makes it more of a matter of producing and selling dwarven goods in the mobile cities and less one of carrying goods from one static settlement to another.

There is only one king of Drakum-Unghar, who reigns in Mount Drakum and holds royal court there. However, due to the often large and shifting distances between the nomadic mountains, most are autonomously ruled by their respective thanes, who are chosen by the clan-leaders and traditionally hold power until they either retire, die or are deposed by angry clans. Every mountain must pay tribute to the crown, and its thane must obey the king's mandates as well as traditional dwarven law. But apart from that, the thanes are largely free to hold power and conduct diplomacy as they see fit. This leads to no two mountain holds being quite the same.

Bio:
Vargrim was originally a jeweler with a talent for magic, though he has expanded his craft far beyond jewelry. After spending years serving the king, he has earned the right to lead an expedition to found a new city.

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Vargrim was born into the Magthurdam clan, who have traditionally been wealthy goldsmiths and jewelers. His childhood was happy, occurring during a propsperous time for the clan and a period of peace for the kingdom. Vargrim's aptitude for magic was noted when he was only a young beardling, and he was apprenticed out to make the most of it, eventually developing a talent for magical crafting.

Vargrim married young in an arranged match between his clan and an equally wealthy one. Although he and his wife found each other's company pleasant, he was focused on mastering his work for the acclaim and prestige it would bring, while she wanted a life of travel and adventure. Though formal divorce between successful members of notable clans would be considered a grave insult in dwarven society - blood feuds have started over less - de facto separation under such circumstances is not uncommon. Vargrim is still in contact with Auine, but she's out somewhere in the Sea of Stars these days. Despite being just as old as he is, Auine continues to travel, hoping to see as much of the universe as she can before she retires.

Ultimately, Vargrim's diligence led to him seeking to become a master of his craft with relentless, sometimes callous, focus. His first forays into alchemy were for the purposes of purifying the materials he was working with. After a few decades of experience and success in his local neighbourhood of the city (and shortly after his separation from his wife), he attempted to win new acclaim with his works by sending them to the royal court. His items were accepted, but no special favour was forthcoming. Annoyed at this lack of recognition, Vargrim travelled to the palace himself to make his case to the court wizard. After a fruitless exchange that appeased neither party, the wizard offered Vargrim a deal. War was coming to the kingdom, and if Vargrim served as an arcane armourer for the royal army, the wizard would suggest his name for a place in the court.

The deal ended up being far more demanding than Vargrim initially thought. He'd expected to have to fulfil cut-price military commissions, but he was actually dispatched to Mount Angorth, a fledgling colony on an unusually large floating mountain where the fighting was taking place. Apparently, the local dwarves had discovered a deposit of valuable ores in the mountain while travelling through a part of the Subterrane controlled by an orc prince. The prince had quickly learned about this, and had made an ultimatum to hand over the entire mountain that the local thane had refused. Now the orc prince was trying to conquer the mountain, both for its valuable resources and the secrets of its molten core - the closely-guarded magic that made the mountain nomadic in the first place, as well as supplying magma for dwarven industry. The dwarves would have destroyed the core before letting it fall into foreign hands, but the king was prepared to commit fully to the fight to keep the mountain - and its valuable ore - under Drakum-Unghar control. The resultant conflict lasted for over a decade, with both factions sending increasing amounts of forces to Mount Angorth to battle it out.

Vargrim produced equipment for the dwarven heroes who led the fighting, as such champions could single-handedly win battles if they had equipment to match their martial skill. Sometimes, he got drawn into the battles themselves, where he was forced to rapidly develop his on-demand casting. During one such battle, whilst defending a staircase side by side with royal soldiers and local militia, an orc was able to get close enough to chop off part of his right foot. With no sufficient magical healing to regrow the hobbled foot, Vargrim encased it in an enchanted iron boot so he was able to participate in subsequent battles, acquiring both a characteristic limp and a nickname. He did eventually get his foot regenerated, but by that time deep scarring meant the limp was permanent.

As a result of his efforts, Vargrim earned a good reputation with the king's marshal, and the court wizard also made good on his promise. Vargrim was appointed Court Armourer, given a position as courtier in the palace, and tasked with maintaining the magic item supply of the royal heroes. From this point, Vargrim served diligently in the royal court for a century, occasionally leaving to provide field support in other conflicts, though thankfully in no wars as long and bloody as the Angorth War. Gradually, as he fulfilled his duties with diligence and pride, his ego also grew with his reputation. Driven by his assurance in his own capabilities, he diversified his skills into a variety of magical crafting forms, as well as developing his spellcasting, alchemy and overall scholarly knowledge. Though he was not a charismatic dwarf, Vargrim's practical ability and learned reputation were visible enough that he was able to make connections and allies within the court. Eventually, the aging court wizard grew concerned that Vargrim was angling to replace him, and a rivalry grew between them.

Ultimately, though, Vargrim had different plans. By his 200th birthday, he'd started to grow concerned with his legacy, and the things he'd leave behind. Though he'd produced many wondrous creations for the royal armoury, even he had to admit that he might never reach the same skill as the mythic craftsdwarves of old in his lifetime. Though he could create magical masterworks, they were not the kind of legendary artifacts whose creators' names were remembered and taught. Still, he believed himself great enough that his name deserved to live forever. So he came up with a new plan. When a new mountain was scouted as a good candidate for settlement, he put that plan into action, and put himself forward as a potential expedition leader. Vargrim's allies mostly spoke in favour of Vargrim's request, and the court wizard jumped at the chance to get his rival out of the picture and remove the only potential challenger for his post, supporting Vargrim's bid wholeheartedly.

And that's how Vargrim acquired a royal charter to found a city in Mount Eiven. As expedition leader, he'd need to establish the groundwork of a settlement to receieve future migration, and once the settlement became self-sustaining he could be confirmed by the settling clans as its first thane, and live in the records as the city's famous founder forever.

Ambition:
Vargrim wants to build a grand city that will stand the test of time. He dreams of his name and legacy living forever.

Contacts:

SpoilerShow

Family:
Mogurth of Clan Magthurdam: A huge, wizened dwarf. Current patriarch of the clan, and Vargrim's fourth cousin once removed. He's very stuck up, though he nevertheless approves of Vargrim bringing prestige to the clan. As is the case with any clan leader, when he asks for a favour, he does so with the weight of dwarven tradition behind him, and it's very hard to say no.
Auine of Clan Tuvukragh: An adventurous dwarf looking to see as much of the universe as she can before she retires. Vargrim's estranged wife. They are on cordial terms and regularly exchange letters. Auine would have suffered terribly to be as tied down for over a century as Vargrim willingly was, though his new ambition to lead an expedition to settle a city is one thing she does approve of.
Termik of Clan Magthurdam: Mother, deceased. Died of old age.
Urin of Clan Dolomoz: Father, deceased. Died of old age.
Vedta of Clan Magthurdam: A strong-willed and kind-hearted goldsmith, Vedta is Vargrim's sister. They look quite a bit alike, though Vedta is much more likely to be smiling than Vargrim. When Vargrim branched out on his own to become a magic item specialist and ultimately join the royal court, Vedta stayed behind and eventually inherited their parents' traditional jewelers workshop.

Royal Court:
King Grumm II of the Royal Clan of Unghar: The current king of Drakum-Unghar. A relatively young king, he has reigned for only about a decade - Vargrim used to serve his father. He's more brash than his father used to be, and no less stubborn, but he was popular enough with the clans that his succession was uncontested.
Dyrin of the Clan of Hewstone-of-Aphaea: The king's steward and lord of the treasury. Dyrin came from Aphaea as a youth when that world was corrupted, and her clan - who only joined the kingdom a hundred years ago, with the other Aphaean refugees - proudly declares their relation to dwarven rulers from that plane. She has a Hewstone drawl that seems a little out of place in the royal court. She's tight-fisted with royal funds, but wants to see the kingdom succeed.
Krudt of Clan Rothurmak: The wizened old court wizard of Drakum-Unghar, who is crotchety to the extreme these days. He originally helped get Vargrim his position in the court in exchange for throwing him into a war, and afterwards they became rivals. Thankfully, with confirmation of Vargrim's departure, Krudt seems to have mellowed out a little.
Deithar of the Temple: The archpriest of the dwarven gods who serves the king. Deithar is extremely devout and serious. She was a foundling of the temple, and she became a full-fledged cleric at a young age. She spent over two centuries rising through the ranks of the temple. She is perhaps the most powerful person in Drakum-Unghar, both in terms of political influence and sheer magical threat. After all, even the king must appease the clans, but the temple answers to the gods, and serves the king only at the gods' direction. Deithar is also the primary ritualist who safeguards the secret knowledge of the molten cores, and she will need to travel to the new mountain to create the new molten core within.
Grodd of Clan Ubric: The kingdom's greatest martial hero, a famous name of the Angorth war, and a friend of Vargrim's in the court. Heroic champions are key to warfare, simply because one heroic warrior can carve through thousands of poorly-trained levies in this world. A boisterous and charismatic fighter, without equal in the whole kingdom, who is a little sad that Vargrim won't always be around to give him the best toys anymore.

This is not a complete list - the king's court also features titles such as chief ambassador, marshal-at-arms, high attorney (an expert on traditional dwarven law), majordomo and court jester.

Settlers:
Dobaruth of Clan Kamogur: A charismatic dwarf who is a competent miner from a stoneworking clan and an amateur musician. Young and hopeful, she dreams of using this opportunity to start her own clan. Distant relative of Zulban.
Rigoth of Clan Morg: An accomplished woodworker with a hot temper. She's also a talented dirty fighter with something to prove, but nobody is exactly sure what yet. Despite her short fuse, her skill at both woodworking and fighting got her offered this position, and she took it.
Goden of Clan Trezugarom: A relaxed and jovial gardener, Goden is also an alchemist, brewer and cook of substantial skill. He's here hoping to start a clan - his wife and kids are slated to come and join him once the settlement is established. Old friend of Dodok.
Dodok of Clan Bugrumur: A calm and friendly priest of the dwarven gods, Dodok is a fully-accredited cleric and skilled herbalist. He's here to establish a temple once the settlement can support it and help his friend with farming matters. Old friend of Goden.
Zulban of Clan Kamogur: A reserved and level-headed old mason and stonecarver. Zulban served in the Angorth war as a soldier of the line. She's no royal hero, but is more than capable of holding her own. Distant relative of Dobaruth.
Libash of Clan Mezetrim: A quiet miner who works with scary diligence. Scary tough. Nobody knows what exactly she wants out of this.

Name: Illio na Devella/Ashae Lys/Emeric duc Sened

Description: Illio is a half-elf around 130 years old, marked by years of adventure and hardship. They are a little shorter than the average human at 5'8", and have a lithe figure from their elven ancestry. Their hair is long and auburn, which they usually let flow freely. Illio's eyes are a piercing violet, standing out in their lined and tired face. Illio likes to wear simple, old-fashioned traveling clothes, and has no jewelry but a brass pendant inlaid with semi-precious stones, shaped like a double circle (twelve stones outside, one inside) in the palm of a hand.

Having lived a while, Illio has a few alter-egos. The first is Ashae Lys, a woman of some renown among the Aphaean refugees. She braids her hair and likes colorful dresses and music. A bawdy type, she entertains people with her hurdy-gurdy and is never without alcohol, hidden in the many, many folds of her clothes. She is known for preserving the Aphaean recipe for Skull-and-Crossbones, a liquor described as the "distilled essence of alcoholism". From her belt hangs a beaten-up old tankard engraved with the likeness of an orc called Zugard Skulkrusha, whom she claims was an old friend.

Illio's main other alter-ego is Emeric duc Syned, a noble of one of the many isles of the sea. Emeric is a serious and studious character, saying very little, and yet with the keen sense of someone who's always paying attention to what's going on. He wears all-black robes with little ornamentation save a signet ring.

Place of Origin: Karynites, Aphaea - A hidden island on a doomed, forgotten world, Karynites was the hope of Illio's people, last of the humans. Or so they thought, anyway. While they stayed hidden in their refuge, the world around them moved on, recovering from the first cataclysm that wrecked Aphaea and moving into a more modern era. But when the world was under threat once more, they produced a hero - Illio na Devella, touched by the goddess of adventure, who went out into the wide world to understand it and do what was right.

When disaster struck once more, Illio returned to his people, and they joined the evacuees from Aphaea. Their legacy lives on across the Black Ocean and beyond; sometimes one encounters the board game Tur-bu-la, once popular among them, and other times small communities of humans and part-humans with strange beliefs, such as an insistence that physical objects tie the divine essence of the gods to the material plane, and that if someone were to find the physical essence of the Old Gods, they could commune with those long-dead creators.

Bio: Illio na Devella was an adventurer, once. Long ago, born under the protection of the Goddess Rockhopper and marked by Henet, Illio sailed the seas with his companions in a desperate attempt to prevent catastrophe. Along the way, Illio learned of the modern world and had a lot of his ideas questioned and challenged. He had a particularly complicated relationship with Zugard Skulkrusha, an orc of dubious moral character but great strength. Eventually, Illio and his companions joined the Benthic Order, a group serving the goddesses of the sea.

The Order uncovered a conspiracy to harness the divine essence of a dead goddess, who turned out to be the one who had flooded the world (though they did not know it at the time). This essence began corrupting the seas, and despite their best efforts, the Order failed to contain the corruption. The greed of capitalists such as the Deepfathom corporation won out over the good sense of the people, as they dug deeply for power. As things got more desperate, the Benthic Order allied with the Cult of Henet to try and fight, but it wasn't enough. They launched a desperate raid on a Deepfathom facility and destroyed it, but that wasn't enough either. In the raid, Zugard and Illio had their final falling out, over money of all things, and in a fight that left Illio bleeding out on the floor, Zugard died.

With mixed feelings, Illio and the others returned to the Benthic Order's base. A few days later, the corruption attacked. The Order's base was destroyed and its members scattered. In the weeks after, Illio and the rest tried to figure out what to do to stop the corruption, but their efforts were for naught. A huge amount of corrupted divine essence, locked in a vault, came free and it was too much to stop. Under so much pressure, the group fell apart. Illio, in fear for his people, fled back to Karynites to try and save them.

Thankfully, Rockhopper was there for Illio. Through him, she guided the people to the Great Gates. The Karynite humans would live on, even if they had lost their home. But Illio paid a terrible price. With Aphaea becoming ever more corrupted, Illio had to fight to protect his people so that they could escape, and in the height of battle his magic surged for the last time, going wildly out of control. It took all he had to stay conscious as his power burned its way out of his body. As Aphaea faded around him, Illio lost all connection to Rockhopper, and with it his powers.


In the weeks following the evacuation, Illio realized that his actions with the Benthic Order had not gone unnoticed. Unfortunately, that attention was not positive, especially since the Order had failed to save the world. And Illio, stripped of his magic as he was, was vulnerable. After nearly dying several times to the anger of other refugees, Illio decided enough was enough. Using the magical knowledge that he had left, as well as his trusty Roulette wand and a large amount of spell components, Illio fashioned a disguise far from anything that he had ever been before. And thus, was born Ashae Lys.

At first, Ashae was just a disguise for Illio, but as it became clear that it was working, Illio inhabited his old persona less and less. Partially inspired by Illio's old companions, and partially by the guilt of failure, Ashae became known as a wild partier. Acquiring the recipes for such wonderful drinks as "Skull and Crossbones", "Shark Tranquilizer", "Mindbender", "Gut Punch", "Dragon's Breath", "Aboleth's Gaze", "Leviathan", and "Liverfucker", Ashae drank her way across the Astral Seas. She brawled, seduced, sang, and told stories of increasingly dubious veracity, and soon her reputation was far bigger than Illio's ever was. The years passed, and Ashae grew comfortable in herself. Aphaea was naught but a distant memory.

But Ashae's simple life was not to last. As she grew older and traveled across the Astral Seas, she made many friends, but also many enemies. She had learned a little about fighting in her endless bar crawls, and she had made money off of the alcohol recipes, and some people started taking notice. Drunks and rowdy bar patrons, she could handle. Even the occasional rival. The life she made for herself was too good to be true, and some powerful people managed to connect her back to the cataclysm on Aphaea. She became hounded by spies and agents, trying to discover the secrets of the corruption and gods' blood. Asahe had to close her traveling tavern-ship. The heat got too much, even for her, and she ran away again. But this time, she couldn't run away from herself.

The seas were quiet for a while.

Months later, a nobleman named Emeric started showing up to repositories of arcane knowledge, hunting for treasure. He was a quiet, reserved, and studious person, clearly of elven heritage but of uncertain origin. He claimed to be fifth in line to succeed some forgotten duchy somewhere, when people asked. But mostly he didn't speak of himself. The only thing that was clear is that he was looking for something. He joined expeditions for several magic artifacts, and despite his reserved nature, acquired a reputation as a collector and treasure-hunter.

Around the same time, several Karynite and Aphaean exile communities were visited by a figure from their distant past. A half-elf named Illio would visit them and offer help, either in the form of magic or gold, and then leave. Accounts of Illio's appearance varied - some claimed they were an elven princess, others swore that they were a swashbuckling gentleman. Most said simply that they were visited by an elf of indeterminate gender, wearing strange clothes that were often decades out of fashion, yet still looked good, and offered help, asking for little in return but information.

Of course, Emeric and Illio were one and the same. Illio had learned from the many years they lived as Ashae, and their identity and sense of self had become more fluid than it once was. Illio had realized something; it's impossible to hide forever. Only the powerful can truly ensure their safety. And so, they searched, learning magic once more, coming less easily now that it was not innate in their blood, but studying carefully nonetheless. Illio could defend themself, having kept up physical conditioning from their years of tavern brawls, and was determined to amass power and knowledge quietly.

They felt guilty, still, about their failure all those years ago, and so they turned to the question of the nature of the Gods. On Karynites, Illio was taught that the gods had two natures, divine and material, and that when the link between the two was severed the gods could affect the mortal world no longer. They knew that wasn't quite true, seeing as the goddesses of the sea had no need for a single physical link, and they had surreptitiously visited Eschatos and observed the domains of the new gods. But the Old Gods, the ones who created the seas...  They were dead, but left behind bodies. And that was interesting. Could it be that their divine essence was severed, but their material forms remained? Was there any truth to the Karynite myth? They were determined to find out.


Ambition: Seeking more powerful and ancient artifacts, Illio learned of the legend of the Giant Thalambath. Said to be one of the first creations of the Old Gods, and the last being to see them alive, Thalambath was more a figure of myth than reality. But then they heard of a crystal known as Thalambath's Heart - a huge, heart-shaped device of pure magic that was rumored to contain boundless knowledge and magical power. Illio wondered whether the Heart, if it was linked to the old legend, could contain some of the memory of the ancient Giant. And so, they set off in search of Thalambath's Heart.

After that? Illio isn't sure. But perhaps with such power, they too could ascend among the gods? They'll figure it out when they get there.

Contacts:

Illio:

Yanimir na Devella: Illio's elven father - perhaps still alive?
Delmar Danger Leviathan: A dwarf, and one of Illio's old adventuring companions.
Sehesh Akhenatta: An undead spellcaster whose path briefly intersected with theirs
The Janitor: Not seen in a long time
Callysta Maelstrom: An old member of the Benthic Order
Ælfþryð: Same as above
Aleamiqa: A deathless Leviathan who used to be the patron of the Order

Ashae:

Burdock Rose: On again, off again lover/rival who at first had a competing bar before the two shacked up together in wacky circumstances. They are a chaotic being, a very fitting match for Ashae. Disappeared after their bar blew up.

Dukas: A big buff half-orc and Ashae's former bouncer

Kim Dahlia: A merchant who supplied Ashae with what she needed to brew her knockout liquors, and also had a big cut of the distribution money.

Monika the Red: Another onetime lover of Ashae and a famous duelist, has since retired and started a sword school as she's getting too old to be getting in petty fights.

Firkin Ippleswitch: Ashae's gnomish lawyer, very tired of her shit.

Emeric:

Borward of Kitte: A student of elven philosophy and a fellow scholar to Emeric, perhaps the only person who's actually close to him.

Tamitha Rugen: A treasure-hunter who's run into Emeric in the past and often seems to be looking for the same artifacts, much to their mutual dismay.

Wali Nuer: An information broker who works with Emeric at times.

Name: Iris D'Amato

Description: Iris is a fairly inconspicuous-looking mercenary. She's kinda tall, tan, and decently buff- but that fits the bill for a very large number of people in her line of work. She's got the scars from having done this for some time, she's got green hair she dyes herself, and her armor and weapons aren't really anything to gawk at. What this conceals is that Iris is incredibly proficient and the strongest person in town. And Iris hides this because she is extremely averse to anything one might consider 'adventure.' She does her absolute best to avoid anything that might lead to a grand, complex plot. She likes to keep it simple, and she likes her life to not be easy per se, but straightforward. Ancient artifacts? Evil wizards? Rebirthed gods? Iris is fine over here. Send someone else. It's not that she's hiding it on purpose, either, she just does not act in a manner that conveys her aptitude. And this distaste for adventure often extends to adventurers as well, because the thing that all adventurers are best at is dragging other people into their bullshit. Additionally, Iris does not appreciate being offered help when she is not explicitly seeking it out.

Place of Origin: Sugar Falls, a moderately large city in the Black Ocean. It has trade, culture, a relatively moderate government, and many adventurers begin their careers in its numerous taverns. Sugar Falls also has two rival newspapers, the Black Ocean's largest amount of rum exports, and a thriving mercenary industry. It gets its name from the sugarcane farms and the waterfalls that comprise most of the outlying area. Iris herself lives on a small island about ten minutes' sail away from Aspiration Bay, which Sugar Falls is located on. She built a small house, a dock, and a doghouse on it.

Bio: Iris was born in Sugar Falls. Her parents are general working class folk- one mother is a lead farmer at one of the sugarcane farms, and the other mother works for one of the rum distilleries. She talks to them about as much as any late 20s working professional who still lives in the same city, which is to say every now and then on the weekends. When Iris was growing up, there was a period of a few years where monster attacks in the vicinity of Sugar Falls were increasing in both quantity and severity. And although it was a group of ragtag adventurers that found the source of the creatures' agitation and destroyed it, it was honest, hardworking people who ensured it didn't happen again. She worked on the sugarcane farm with her mother and began to train in combat, and by the age of 18 registered as a mercenary with the city. Iris has taken a high volume of jobs throughout her career, having fought against truly dangerous foes, but has yet to involve herself in any proper adventuring. She got where she is through pragmatism, grunt work, and rigorous training.

Ambition: Iris wants to keep Sugar Falls safe, keep the mercenary industry stable and independent, and live a relatively quiet life where she's not bothered any more than she wants to be.

Contacts: 
Angelina D'Amato, Iris' mother. Works on a sugarcane farm and taught Iris everything she knows about crops and the harvest. Strong, tall, charismatic.
Dawnya D'Amato, Iris' mother. Works for a rum distillery and taught Iris about craftsmanship. Intelligent, kind, witty.
Graves McGillicuddy, adventuring mercenary. A polearm specialist who Iris has worked with on several jobs, who Iris tolerates because she's really good on a fundamental combat level. ...Iris is just far better. Graves and Iris may have had feelings for one another at one point, but that is not the case now. Still, there is trust here. Courageous, tactical, loud.
Kailurathiain Riluaneth, adventuring mercenary. An elven assassin who uses a shortbow. Only Iris and her other friends can call her Kiley. Iris tolerates her because brooding edgy loners are usually quiet, which Iris appreciates. Has a ton of stories about cool shit she's done to pass the time with. Reflexive, perceptive, somewhat rude.
Declan Kirstenvales, adventuring mercenary. A cleric to a god of revelry and merriment who parties with the best of them. Iris has the hardest time tolerating them, but does so because of a dependability in battle and the fact that Declan stops other adventurers from bothering Iris because to harsh someone's vibe like that is a total party foul. Sagelike, charitable, louder.
Ives Almade-Ross, local papergirl. Delivers the more respectable of the two newspapers in town to Iris' island each morning, and is looking to become a full-fledged reporter. She has had two stories published, little fluff pieces people skim over- but she's sure that means she's got her foot in the door. Iris thinks she's cute.  Energetic, inspiring, reckless.
Ronan McGillicuddy, registration office worker and Graves' brother. Ronan mans the desk that manages the quest board and new adventurer registration, and Iris comes to him to ask for details on jobs she takes. Additionally, when someone asks for Iris' services directly, it's Ronan that sends the letter of request to her island. Beleaguered, well-meaning, organized.

Name: Jumbles Jimothy Jubilant (in formal documentation, he will be Jumbles Jimothy of the Jubilant House)

Description: Jumbles is a kobold, an anthropomorphic lizard-like creature (comparable to a crested gecko) with big floppy ears. Glasses decorate the tip of his snout and he dresses academically, if shabbily -- although always, always neatly. He is agreeable, inquisitive, and eternally (almost infuriatingly) optimistic – nothing really seems to bring him down no matter how dire the circumstances are. Like a good majority of kobolds, he has a vested interest in dragons and would like to encounter dragon-y phenomenon one day. He is starting to change his mind though.

Place of Origin: St. Adastra, Serkath Theocracy, Midnight Sea.

Bio: Jumbles is a kobold from an old-money family of bankers, connected to the Celestial Hoard, one of the most premium banks among the Nine Seas. As his elder siblings (for which there are many) inherited the business, Jumbles had a lot of money and free time. So he decided to become an musician as he marveled at how more “intense” the tone sounds when all the other senses are muted or deprived, a commonality in the Midnight Sea despite the prevalence of Darkvision.

His family did not approve of this esoteric interest, and so unceremoniously disowned him. However, Jumbles continued to eek out his existence as a brave-and-ever-dashing hireling!

(Near city-borders of course.)

He had his fair share of good and bad co-adventurers. However, his favorite person to work along side is a dragonborn named Alrakis. Alrakis and Jumbles worked together in great frequency, which was fun and lucrative. However, Jumbles sensed building stress from the taller humanoid, which increased with each subsequent hire. At first, Jumbles though it to be a consequence of adventuring-to-adventuring. However, Alrakis came less frequently, from once a week to two weeks, and then a month. One day, Alrakis did not came back.

However, Alrakis left something bloody in Jumble’s mailbox.

Unwrapping the package, revealed a tooth, the length of his arm, so freshly harvested that the pulp still clung to its roots. Investigation, with the help of his archives, revealed that this tooth was of draconic nature. Of what particular dragon, it was ambiguous – it came neither from kobold, wyvaran, dragonborn, or even dragon-adjacent creatures like wyverns, basilisks, and others. One night, he mustered enough courage to ask a contact at the local university (his aunt) to see if it originated from a dragon.

It wasn’t.

There laid one conclusion by elimination for poor Jumbles, the tooth was that of a True Dragon. Apparently, others caught wind of it. His apartment was broken into, his belongings rummaged, and the walls defiled with occult graffiti. Death threats were sent in the form of anonymous letters and calls. Considering these threats were becoming more frequent, Jumbles need to figure a way out before his hidden foes decided to their support their threats with direct action.

Perhaps, his aunt can help him?

Ambition: Jumbles would like to return this tooth to whatever decaying true-dragon remnants it originates from -- in the impossible, inconclusive hope it can solve all his problems and he can go back to teaching. However, he would like it to do in a way that less-than-benevolent people could come across it again and use it for their nefarious purposes. Such a simple goal with so many GODDAMN STEPS.

Contacts: Adastra. The muse of Jumbles. A True Dragon whose legendary swansong was to turn her death into a masterpiece. While Jumbles had not and will not ever meet her in person, her influence lingers in his songs and sorcery. Adastra compositions tend to be joyous and bombastic, followed by tragic, tear-wringing lingering – an aural encapsulation of a supernova.

Jubilant House. Old-money kobold bankers. Not exactly nice people, but not exactly evil. Jumbles has difficulties with his father (Marmite Manuel), but at least on talking terms with his mother (Rarebit Rory) and siblings (of which there are many).

Sausage-Roll Stephens. Aunt of Jumbles. Works as a professor at the local-university, teaching general-educuation Arcana. Stephens is a rotund kobold with a love for the finer things in life. While she is perpetually busy (and Jumbles does not want to bother her that much, she is a pretty cool lady!), she can occasionally do small favors for her favorite nephew.

Alrakis. Dragonborn (human ancestry) and adventurer who hired Jumbles frequently. Nonbinary. Alrakis is ghost-like pale with shock-white hair, almost vampire-like. Only the subtle gold scales on their cheeks and slit-pupil eyes betray their draconic heritage. Jumbles suspects they have cultist tiles, but even then…he hopes they are alright.

Rising Scales. A dragon-cult who is harassing Jumbles. The cult has strict membership, with only dragon-blooded or empowered people joining their ranks. Their idealogy is esoteric and potentially apocalyptic, trying to bring together enough corpse-pieces to resurrect a True Dragon. Their leader is a gold-dragon named Aurifex. Jumbles hadn’t seen her in-person – and doesn’t want to – but heard rumors she is somewhat of an unhinged scholarly sort.

Name: Aurora Ambrosia

Description: A dark red-headed/coppery hair and bleach pale skin. Once perhaps, you used to be smaller, slimmer. But decades of training and wayfare have pushed her to a taller, threatening mass and an intimidating build. About 6 foot 3, she has almost pure, piercing white eyes and an unnatural stillness to her. Despite years of fighting and violence, no scars remain on her and is quite classically beautiful, looking to be in her mid-20s and of only slightly muscular physique. The most unnatural and revealing feature to her nature are the long fangs when she rarely smiles, and obvious when she talks unmasked, which is rare. She doesn't look as strong as she is, undead fortitude boosting her might more than it appears.

She's a serious sort, not prone to laughter or levity. A lifetime of hard living and growing up in a world where the undead not only thrive but rule in many places, has hurt any chance to recover from her own experiences. Instead, she has simply focused herself towards her cause, resolving to the fact that she'll die before she succeeds but hopes she can make a small change to better this dark realm.

Place of Origin: The midnight sea. Near the city of Marbhog, a port capital to challenge and border the theocracy of Serkath. Marbhog is something of a "best foot forward" city for those visiting the Midnight sea and deals with trade amongst the other travellers of the realms for the undead islands and lands. It's somewhat more welcoming towards non-undead, you may not get just picked off the street and eaten, but it remains a very dangerous place regardless as after all, even though it's duties are to somewhat placate the nation of Serkath and keep an eye on them and trade with them, it needs to be able to defend itself as one of the more open and valuable city states. Aurora grew up in a smaller village community within the back borders of Marbhog's influence.

Bio: 

SpoilerShow

Aurora was born... about 50 years back lets say, she's not too sure on how old she is. Just lets say that, she knows she had an irregular upbringing. There were a set of woods that made up her whole world, and a tower she lived in alone in it. Well, not entirely alone. She never knew their names, but the blank eyes of the rotting undead and skeletal guardians kept an eye on her and took care of her home. Every now and again, tutors would be brought, to teach her some basic skills, to see what she excelled at or didn't. Aurora didn't care too much for their lessons, finding most of her teacher's behaviour strange. Their barely contained frustration whenever she didn't get anything or their fearful glances at her breathless guardians and servants. Some seemed made of sterner stuff, and over the years whilst some came and went only briefly, a handful she got to know better.

Christina, a short, wiry gnomish ranger who helped explain the usages and names of the plants and trees in her woods, and to find the tracks of passing beasts and wanderers. It had been surprising that Christina couldn't talk and hear and laugh with the bats and rats and night life of the woods, seeming to prefer the day time and squinting in the darkness, but, they adjusted well to each other's limitations, Aurora enjoying the puzzles and tests Christina set her to watch for.

Then there was Orisa, a quiet, serious draconic woman, who taught Aurora to fight, judging her growth and explaining the physiology of the mortal bodies of humanoid species that were brought in. She was also the first person to strike Aurora, straight across the face during their first spar. There had been a moment of tension, Orisa's eyes moving from the young girl, to the dead soldiers overlooking it, that had suddenly become more alert somehow, until Aurora stood up, rubbing at her face and more surprised looking than upset. It had been an important lesson to learn that Orisa didn't have the patience to put aside or the fear to not get it over with, what pain felt like.

Then there was Dr. Orpheo. A quiet, bookish and endlessly patient elven man, who slowly replaced the other scholarly tutors over time, calmly explaining the esoteric natures of reality and magic, the history and geographies and all manner of odd nuggets of information or lore to the frustrated Aurora. Only a slightly sad and disappointed look given in response when she got upset and stormed off, only to come back quickly after and sit down sulkily after the cool off, where he'd continue where he left off, offering small questions to keep her interest and recap previous points, or taking out practical experiments or strange examples of oddities or tools related to the lore of the day.

Beyond the handful of others than came and went, the only other constant figure in Aurora's life. Only ever referred to as Ma'am, my lady, or mummy specifically by Aurora and eventually mother later on. Dressed in finery, beautiful, extravagant and dark, rich, soft dresses. Her grace, her voice, everything she had control over radiates confidence, elegance, power. Standing at 6' 4", Mother has a skeletal visage, dead, white skin with sickly purple veins running under her skin, empty eyes of bleeding violet and wisps of shadow and long, deadly talons, adorned with rings. One of the ancients, a nosferatu, a noble of the wonderful city of Morbhog, who visits to see how her little Dawn is doing, checking her schooling, seeing how happy she is, that she's been listening to her tutors. Mother also took care of matters of society, concealing one's emotions, the correct words to manipulate those around you, the value of fear and loyalty.

Mother also liked to talk to Aurora on nice midnight walks, to explain her own troubles and hear what Aurora had been learning, and to speak of the night that one day Aurora would be able to join her in Morbhog, when she was ready for court, when she was old enough for her birthday present. Mother seemed more and more proud and excited for the eventual night, until. Finally.

Aurora wasn't sure what made the particular night special. Perhaps some of Mother's plans had finally reached the point of fruition or Aurora was considered finally ready or some magic had been prepared or the stars had aligned, who knows. But. Finally, the one room in the tower she'd never been able to explore and enter, despite several attempts over the years, with some small knowledge that there was something in there that called to her, was to be opened. As she'd grown and explored the boundaries of the woods, she had found that... there was some unknown, fluctuating distance from the tower that Aurora could reach before a feeling of fatigue, shakiness, weakness came over her. Like her blood and life lost all potency as she traveled further away until her breaths barely brought any relief to an aching, gasping sensation of loss of air, like every cell in her body was dying.

Dr Orpheo, Orisa, Christina and several other tutors followed Aurora and Mother down the stone steps. The sealed door had almost melted away after a word from Mother, it's physical form apparently merely a distraction from a potent, magical seal. In darkness, Mother and Aurora walked ahead, the clicking of bone on stone from the heels of Mother leading in the darkness whilst some small lights were allowed for those that needed it. Aurora squinted slightly, needing the light still to pierce the shadows, nights of exploration and company of the night creatures having sharpened her vision but not enough for the dripping, strangling shadows that had receded and grown down here over the decades.

They walked deep, deep down into the stone, the depths of this tower apparently reaching far below, far longer than the surface height of it, walking down until the cold and damp of the stone became warm and hot instead, a cloying warmth, like when your own skin feels sticky and gross. Despite all this, as they walked, there were no signs of life. No webs, no dust, no scurrying little insects, no smell of decay or growth of vines or fungi. Doors were passed by, with unknown symbols of different languages and scripts scrawling into them, but Dr Orpheo seemed to recognise some of them, surprise and concern of recognition but silent as he followed.

Finally, a door. The symbol on it reminded Aurora slightly of a setting half-sun, set into a hexagon border. A breathless word was spoken by Mother and the door shifted to mist. Leading the way, Mother, Aurora and her tutors entered one by one, the remaining mindless undead remaining in the staircase. The room was made of a green stone, almost like it was carved out of a pure, dark green gemstone rock. Lines and grooves were carved into the floor and the 6 pillars that split up the room into segments, the center of it holding a simple hexagonical green box with gold and silver ornate fittings about it.

Taking her hand, Mother walked Aurora over to the box, a strange pulsing filling Aurora's head as a whispering voice filled the room. A gentle, skeletal kiss from Mother on Aurora's head, comforting and proud words of her growth distracting Aurora from a sudden pricking sensation on her hand. A talonous finger had cut open her pale skin, spilling blood onto the box that Aurora's hand was placed on. A set of six clicks echoing out in perfect synchronicity from the box as parts of it snapped open, and a dark red mist exploded out, slamming about the room, the mortals thrown about like rag dolls as it tore and rushed about, passing by Mother as she laughed in delight and finally, this long removed and nurtured and grown and invested and cursed gift returned to it's true host. Magic and death and dark blood filling Aurora's veins, her features suddenly changing as she screamed silently, the life being ripped out of her to be devoured as succulence for this force, this part of her that had been hidden away until ready returning with a vengeance, a terrible strength increased tenfold by Mother's machinations and planning.

Sadly, the pain of the transformation was only the first half of the tragedy of the night, a mostly human mortal girl changed to fully reflect her undead origin, and with the new, unnatural power flowing through her unrestrained, it demanded a final nail in the coffin. Falling upon her stunned tutors, one by one their throats were torn out and drank and devoured. From the misty door, wizened and frail but the still yet alive bodies of past, discarded teachers, keep preserved and breathing until this night were dragged through and thrown to slate her endless hunger. Gore and liquid, red and white and pink splatters of blood and bone and flesh covered the room and Aurora, the scent and echo of dozens of panicked, screaming, resisting and violent deaths stained the scene.

That was probably the big catalyst moment that suddenly some things made sense for Aurora. Like hey, mom is evil. Like, seriously evil. Like, yeah, she'd sounded upset normally about the things she had to do, the things she'd confided to Aurora during their nightly walks. Regrets that she'd gathered, old faces that she missed, choices that she wished she didn't have to pay to get where she was. And Aurora had always believed in that side of her mother, the one that liked to play dress up with her, that laughed at her dances and her petty complaints about boring lessons, that shared secrets and weights with her, that apologised for keeping her locked away from the world but it was the only way to keep her safe until she was ready to shine one day. It didn't click immediately that whether that part of her was real or not, there was more to her, other sides Aurora had never been truly shown before, a cruel, dominating will, a cold mind that could do what it took to get what it wanted, a wild joy in petty cruelties and power. It er... Aurora was sort of in a fugue state for a while after that all anyway. She was escorted about the city of Marbhog, as the new knight of lady Ruīna Ambrosia, not quite ready to be revealed as her daughter still. It took a little while for some informed knowledge to become rote, but, Aurora wasn't really focusing on much beyond violence and being a good daughter, nodding along and playing along with mom's unlife, the plays of court, the web of intrigue, the careful play of politics and power. She didn't really have anyone left beyond mom anyway, so, yeah. She got to experience life outside the woods finally, talk to some other undead and living, actually see some of the politics and world rather than just hearing about it, and slowly, numb herself to the reality of her situation. Who knows how she could have turned out, if maybe there had been one more missing positive influence in her childhood, a slightly heavier touch of her mother's hand guiding her, one less screaming, terrified face sent to silence after a bloody end.

As fate would have it, of the two sides of her, one night it all came clear and it was like she was herself again, the years of sin and murder and the wrongness of it all clear to her, that she could choose to leave, that she wasn't a tool of her mother's will and that if there was anything she'd discovered as a tool of lady Ruīna, it was that she had enemies. That this was not the way the world had to be. That there were other ways, another part of her that she could follow and listen to.

That night was the last time Aurora Ambrosia would ignore her heart, even if it beat slowly now. There was an escape from her home, donning her garb of dark-grey nebus plate and her sword of stygian steel. Her shield she kept as it was, the seal of house Ambrosia, a setting sun beset by incoming shadows, but now it would be a force of light in this realm, under her name, Dawn.

You may ask yourself, “How did I get here?” This should explain how your character reached level 10 - or if you want to start at a lower level, give an idea of how you will get there near the game’s start.

Ambition: Free the city of Marbhog from undead rule and fight the undead forces of the Midnight Sea

Contacts: Who do you know? Relatives, friends, business contacts, mortal enemies, etc. Define as many or as few as you want here.

Name: Wundor
Description: Wundor is tall and robust by the standards of most Goblins. He wears colourful and practical clothing, and an especially bright tophat. Knowing that there can be more friends around the corner, Wunder tries his best to smile an encouraging smile. Wunder does not like to use his experiments for violent purposes. However, he will defend himself, displaying his scientific superiority against anyone who would dare to harm a fellow scientist. Wundor is also a painter, although very sloppy.

Place of Origin: The Mindflame goblin community near the Beating Sun. This tribe has the idea that cultivating a deep (and maybe accurate) knowledge of the world around you will ignite your inner fire - your mindfire - , and a goblin should constantly work on improving themselves. And by improving themselves, they too can stoke the bonfires of the Goblin culture. The community is kind of nomadic, as they tend to burn down their towns by accident. But they bounce back, smarter.

Bio: Wundor was part of a merchant expedition to the great city of Zenith: they traded away rock samples, gained through hard goblin work, gaining books and scientific instruments in return. Some of the goblins were awestruck by the mighty city, and decided to stay. Wundor's family took up residence, working in various smithies and Natural Remedy Shoppes. But Wundor aimed higher: he snuck into the university. He was thrown out the moment he jumped over the campus walls, so he tried later, after many years, by taking the entrance exam, along with several of his relatives that he managed to persuade. He was accepted, and thanks to a scholarship gained mostly by being smart, and also in part because of a diversity program.

Joining the field of alchemy, Wundor was surprised to learn about all kinds of fire: cold fire, zapping fire and the like. He devoured books quickly, learning about how these wonders work, and how to replicate them. Teaming up with fellow goblin prodigies from his clan, he replicated the experiments of his tribe, and used this knowledge to improve the concotations. Soon, he and his siblings and cousins became semi respected alchemist researchers, eventually outnumbering the rest of the explosives faculty.

Getting actual funding for their experiments increased them a lot on scope. Soon, their university wing was rocked by enthusiastic explosions, as they were researching Applied Alternative Alchemical Elements Used For Excavations Of Minerals. Sadly, both rebuilding their test chambers, and their equipment started to spiral out of control. However, the Chair Of Alchemy could not fire them. For one, Wundor's people slowly became the majority in all three sub-departments. And two, Wundor's experiments increased the safety of miners.

So they came up with a new plan: Hey Wundor, what if you travelled all the seas, and performed experiments everywhere? We would really appreciate it! And Wundor accepted. He shall fill his room in the ship with samples of all kind!

Ambition: Travel around the known, and several unknown reagions of the astral sea, expanding upon alchemical and elemental knowledge, and return with a complete Wundor Kammer.

Contacts:
Jonathan Malieri: arcanist rival researcher, human
Salad: a goblin mutagenist, cousin of Wundor, half vegetable
Sutur: a goblin medical alchemist, she is more careful, due to the importance of her job
Norm: the "evil" twin of Wundor who hates explosions, and works as a fireman
Borleo The Wide: the bursar of the academy, very frightening, dwarf, arch enemy
Wun: the father of Wundor, who hoped he would surprass him one day
Nornor: the mother of Wundor and Norm, who approves of both of them, and sends them goblin lunches
Aurealos Boniface: elven teacher of history and archeology, disliked alchemy of course because of the noise they make
Butterscoth Bob: Kobold Janitor, strikes fear into the hearts of the faculty, otherwise a very nice guy
Hildegaard Hildegaard: Halfling master chef of the university kitchens, has a soft spot for goblins and gnomes

Name: Jarden Springwater (Leshy - current name) / Granbwa 'Gran' Louquo (Eidolon)

Description:
Jarden Springwater is rather 'normal' for a Leshy; his appearance is that of a small, humanoid-shaped tree, covered in vines. The largest have intertwined to form woody limbs, while others sway with the breeze. He doesn't generally wear clothing and doesn't feel like he needs to, but does carry some rather flexible outfits with himself if the need arises for satisfying some strange fleshperson cultural norm. His 'crown' of broad fig leaves overlap into a green 'hair' of sorts, while the rest of his facial features are a bark-carved mimicry to allow for limited facial expression.

Gran appears as one might expect for the ancient, rueful spirit of a long-deceased druid. Her body manifests as a harrowed, elderly female half-elf with ice-blue eyes and auburn-grey hair, held together by sickly foliage and amber-black sap. She appears dressed in green robes and bark-soled sandals, with some trinkets of her living self visible on occasion.

Place of Origin:
Jarden originates from a garden island that was engulfed by The Sun, but their nature spirit resided in the Sea for millennia before its binding. Gran's heritage and past prior to his creation are unknown to him, other than she was one of the adventurous mortal souls that entered the Astral Plane.

Bio:

SpoilerShow

In their original Nature Spirit form, Jarden's story predates the fall of the Gods, though his ancient name/s are long forotten; he chose to discard many of his oldest memories during and since becoming a Leshy. In service to ancient God/desses of Nature, Regrowth and Flowers, they were one of many Guardians of sacred groves on a plane created by their patrons. - Until the downfall of the Gods. Without any Divine guidance and power to maintain it, the Garden could no longer be kept whole and split into many fragmented 'islands' that wandered across the void. Jarden's isle quickly become overgrown and floated aimlessly for seemingly forever. as mortals began occupying the Astral Sea, the island was subjected to several attempted occupations, with limited initial resistance from the Guardian Spirits until the interlopers began to destroy and defile its vegetation.

Many of the Spirits perished over time; either from skirmishes with interlopers, the fading of their essence into that of the Garden as a whole, or perishing outright when their soul no longer had an 'anchor' to bind them to this plane. Whether any survived is unknown to Jarden but given what happened next, it seems unlikely.

Jarden's Spirit Form resisted these calamities, but due to its bindings and his refusal to reject its duty to the Garden he was tied to the Garden's fate. As the isle wandered, it eventually found itself drifting towards the Sun. It passed Too Close to the bright orb and slowly pulled towards an inevitable fiery death. One by one, the plants in the Garden withered and died as all surface moisture evaporated away and the souls in the Garden were stripped and boiled from its surface - now as dead as the Gods they served. When the Druid arrived, all that remained was a scrap of vegetation in a protected crevice on the far side of the island; hidden from the initial heat and preserved by a groundwater spring, yet as doomed as the rest.

The bargain that the druid Granbwa Louquo gave Jarden's spirit as it hid there was this; she would craft out of the remains of the Garden a body and guide his spirit into this living vessel, in exchange for serving her as a loyal Familiar and becoming a vessel for her own soul when she too found herself faced with mortality. Agreeing, Jarden's form was sculpted around the last living tree in the garden; a small fig. He would serve the druid for many years on her quest to rescue other remnants of nature on the Seas, before eventually being asked to carry out the second part of his deal.

Gran bound her Soul to Jarden as she died, preventing it from passing into the Afterlife. The process was imperfect and much of her former self's powers appear to be either 'lost' or suppressed in the process. What remains is a devoted, vengeful Spirit driven to seek revenge in some small ways on those that might continue to exploit and ravage the blessings of nature. Jarden doesn't really understand why her Spirit is so angry and bitter but out of respect for who She was, he agreed to help with this desire of hers.

Ambition:
Jarden lacks much ambition on their own, other than a boundless curiosity for the worlds and peoples beyond the small island their spirit once called home. He has gradually learned some things about the world on his travels, but such mortal concerns as greed are something he has only seen second-hand, or felt through his connection to Gran. Instead, he often finds fulfilment via helping friends or beings similar to himself either in form or origin. The closest thing he has to a true desire is a hope to one day find and bring together the other fragments of the Gardens of his dead godly masters, wherever these fragments might be.

Contacts:

Druids of the Most Noble and Ancient Green Circle - An order of Druids that Granbwa once belonged to, but later split from. They are internally split between Traditionalists (focused on revering and preserving nature in its present forms) and two Radical movements; Revivalists (pushing for the recovery of Nature where it has been extinguished or diminished) and Resurrectionists (pursuit of various means of bringing Goodhood to nature, either via bringing back dead Gods, helping Nature Spirits rise to Godhood, or the creation of a New God).

Name: Miriam Arabella Cornswallop/Srylixamiril aka “Miri”

Description: Despite looking almost exactly like a kobold, Miri is not, in fact, a kobold. She is a Halfling dragonborn, leaning more heavily into the draconic ancestry than the majority of her family. Her usual clothing is fairly comfortable and practical, nothing that she wouldn’t mind getting messy as she does her hands-on artisan work. She’s often splattered over with dried pieces of candle wax, speckles of color that show up easily on her soft grey scales. Miri does, of course, have a tail as well as a pair of weak gossamer wings that are usually kept safely tucked out of the way.

She’s in her early to mid twenties, and smiles with an easy pleasantness that makes her shop even more popular to visit. Miri’s the kind of person who would gaze longingly out a window imagining entire stories where she’s the brave protagonist, but in reality memorizes, prints out, and has the fantasy GPS set so she doesn’t get lost on the way to a new place that’s twenty minutes from her own home. And then leaves with ten minutes to spare anyway. Just in case.

Place of Origin: Miri has spent her entire life in the capital city of Serkarth within the Midnight Sea.

Bio:

SpoilerShow

Miriam, as with many people, used to be an Entire Rapscallion as a child. Running along the streets, climbing (relatively safe) buildings, being a general nuisance? That was her specialty. And there was no one else she enjoyed doing this with more than her best friend, Oralee (Rally if you're cool), a local kobold who was just as good at getting into trouble as Miri was at getting out of it. These two were thick as thieves, and grew up swapping ideas and plans for the future. The one that always came back was the two of them, out in the world, taking what they wanted and living free as can be.

Once she hit her early teenage years, Miri started having to put in time apprenticing under her parents in their artisan candle shop. Candle working turned out to be meditative and a creative outlet, and Miri found herself mellowing out over the years. When the time came and a sixteen year old Oralee approached fifteen year old her with a plan out of the city and a traveling bag ready for two, she turned them down.

“We aren’t actually adventurers,” Miri said, before ticking off her fingers. “We’ve never left the city, we’ve never won a fight – don’t look at me like that, the time with the butcher’s son doesn’t count, we’ve talked about this– hell, neither of us know how to cook! We can’t just…do this.”

“C’mon, Miri. I’d take care of it! You be the brains, I’ll be the looks and brawn and all the rest of it! This is it, what are you waiting for?”

She just couldn’t do it. And so Rally made a promise, then and there – they’d go and learn what they could and come back, and when she was ready, they’d go.

“It sounds like a really, really cool adventure.” She'd laughed, ignoring how wet it sounded.  “ I wish I could come. Really. But…maybe next time?”

Time trudged on and although she always kept an ear out for the familiar sound of Rally kicking in the door or sneaking in the back to try and surprise her, there was no word. But that was fine. Miri had learned patience, and she was very good at finding ways to remain content. And so she did, keeping her parent’s shop – eventually her own, once they retired – running and creating a new catalogue of candles said to invoke the spirits of the true dragons past to come and grant just a bit of help when needed. And the years passed. She went from being a young teen to a young adult, which really just meant that she was more willing to admit that she didn’t know what she was doing with life. But still, she kept going.  

Now you see, the funny thing about childhood dreams and fantasies is that every so often, something will come along and ignite up that passion again. For Miri, that spark was overhearing some acquaintances at a local grocers gossiping about the latest acts of Saros, a new and mysterious figure that seemed to help those in need and steal the most impossible items for no discernible reason other than desire. Suddenly, Miri had something new to focus on. She’d ask around and gather the information she could, building up the profile of this mysterious Saros, following along with the different cases and rumors. Some say that they stole an enchanted staff right under the nose of an Archon of Zenith and used their moth familiar to make an aerial get away. Others say no, it was a tooth from the Leviathan – but like, a small one. Miri collected all of this with a wistful smile as she realized that whoever this Saros was, they were just like she and Rally had pretended to be as a children. Maybe if this Saros could be out there, thieving and thriving, perhaps Rally was making it work as well.

Then one night an unexpected visitor broke into the shop. Saros had made a hit that night that had gone wrong, and had chosen this building of all buildings to hide from the city guard. Miri, feeling an old flicker of deviance come to life, pointed the guard away and sent them on a wild chase and granting the thief ample time to make their escape. And before they did, they paused in the doorway, the streetlights illuminating the outline of their silhouette as they sweep into a dramatic bow.

“Afraid I must be off. I’d love to have stayed longer, but…maybe next time?”

And if those words sounded familiar, or that smirk clicked into just the right angle, well...she definitely wasn’t about to say. Miri just watched, eyes wide, as Saros disappeared into the night to continue thieving and thriving.

And she definitely was going to have to get rid of the drawer of Saros sketches she’d been making. Rally would never let her live that down if they found out.

Ambition:

SpoilerShow

After several months of silence on Saros, Miri wakes up to a familiar moth familiar and some new abilities from a patron with a capital P. She’s got quite a few questions that need answered. What happened to Saros? Where are they? With no real leads, it looks like it’s time for her to do some field research. And, well…if they cast like a vigilante/master thief and look like a vigilante/master thief…yeah. Miri’s been waiting for years, it’s about time that she gets her Magical Girl Summer.

Contacts:

SpoilerShow

Oralee aka “Rally” aka Saros: A childhood friend that Miri was thick as thieves with. They’d gone out on an adventure, promising to come back to show Miri everything that was out there. Seems instead that they’d gotten themselves into some vigilante/master thief business instead!
Miri’s parents: She has them. I haven’t thought much up. They’re retired. What do you want from me?
TBD…probably…

Name: Abyllona Bloemhus

Description: A tall human-descended Tiefling with blue skin, green eyes and a nubby pair of horns curving ever so slightly upward. Wears her wavy black hair short, somewhat messy. She's almost always wearing a serious expression, her short, stubby eyebrows usually knit in thought. She once had her appearance compared to a young actor known primarily for playing socially awkward teenage boys, leaving her feeling confused and sort of insulted.

Place of Origin: Dawnwatch, a little port town, a safe haven amidst rocky shores. Originally a cove for buccaneers seeking safe passage in their journey toward freedom, time and economic stability turned its inhabitants toward more legitimate businesses - trade, farming on the lush, rainy outskirts, and fishing. The town now serves as a sleepy, safe little corner of the Black Ocean - the sort of place one might decide to retire to in their old age. There is not much wealth, but there is enough for all to make a happy life, and to share in what prosperity can be eked out of the world.

Bio: Shipwrecks aren't particularly uncommon near Dawnwatch. In spite of the town's earnest safety efforts, the treacherous nature of the seas around the port make it dangerous territory for those not familiar with the lay of the land. So when a ship's remains washed up, the village was quick to search for survivors; and when a baby was found among those survivors, a pair of honest folks were ready to take up the role of that child's parents.

Her fathers, a pair of newly-retired adventurers, were eager to try their hands at parenting. This child (who they dubbed Abyllona) was raised on the little plot of land they'd decided to work, raised on tales of their feats of derring-do. She decided at an early age that she would follow in the footsteps of her parents and become a wanderer-at-large, solving problems and bringing joy wherever she may go! She would study the books on magic her fathers brought home from market 'til her mind was numb and her fingers were littered with papercuts. She studied and prepared and trained, and finally she found herself standing on the pier with her fathers waving her goodbye. It was time to see the world.

Except her dreams of being some stunning wizard who'd bring calm wherever she went didn't find themselves realized in reality. She found herself doing manual labor more often than not, being paid a pittance, and being sent on her way with little to show for it. Soon enough, she found herself accruing debt, all the jobs an island would offer hardly even paying her way to the next one over.  It didn't take Abyllona long to realize it was more economical to stab creatures big and small with the rapier she'd brought with her than to waste valuable components on spells -- even for the components that were readily available, she was better off spending time working than gathering up moss and pig's breath.

Just as she began to get the rhythm of the job down, though, and just as she started to get real work under her belt, she found herself despairing more and more. Even as the jobs grew larger, she had to face the fact that she simply hadn't lived up to her own expectations. There were no two ways about it, far as she could tell: she'd put years of her life into barely making enough to live, barely helping anyone, and barely even knowing how to start solving the biggest problems she'd encountered - corruption, oppression, poverty, despair. Things were so much more complicated in this big, wide world than on her island home, or in her dreams...

Ambition: To travel the world, bring freedom and justice wherever it is not, and make lives better wherever she can! If only she knew how...

Contacts:
Khanitar and Torgan: Her fathers! A pair of adventurers who traveled the world doing good before turning toward a life of farming. Khanitar is an Orcish knight; Torgan is a Kenku bowman.
Various Village Patrons: The people she's helped so far! DM discretion.

After significant deliberation, I have decided to accept the following eight players/characters:

Vargrim of Clan Magthurdam - Demonsul
Illio na Devella - Vancho1
Iris D’Amato - livilovey
Jumbles Jimothy Jubilant - Pharmacy
Aurora Ambrosia - MQuinny1234
Wundor - ProfessorLizzard
Miriam Arabella Cornswallop - keylimebi
Abyllona Bloemhus - Protoman

To those that didn’t get in, I’m sorry - it wasn't because of the quality of your characters, but because I can’t possibly run this game for, like, ten people without literally dying and had to make some cuts (with dice rolls, no less). If circumstances shake out that players become inactive/drop or I feel like I can take on additional players, I may admit another person or two later on.

To those that did get in, if you haven’t already made a character sheet, I’ll get you documents for those and help with the character creation process as much (or as little) as you like. Once characters are made (and Contacts sections are filled out to some degree), the game will begin.