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Mejin A'koss

CN(G) Rogue of indeterminate level.
Age: apparent 45, actual 83
Height: 5' 11"
Weight: 170 lbs.

Description: Mejin is of Baklunish descent possessing their trademark golden skin, a perpetually stubbly 3 day old beard, blue-grey eyes and long, wavy, blue-black hair with increasing amounts of grey as the years go by... It is braided in a few areas and loosely tied in the back. As a celebrity in Greyhawk he is always attired the latest fashions mixing Baklunish elements along with current Greyhawk styles. Currently he favors his long, midnight blue coat with silver embroidery and sleeves that end at the elbow, a casual white shirt, dark, green-grey breeches and near-black boots with an inordinate amount of silver buckles to match his belt. Mejin carries with him two beautifully pattern-welded adamantine/black mithril shortswords which emit a deep violet mist-like radiance.

Mejin's most distinguishing trait however is the incredibly stylized plate armor that adorns his left arm. It appears to be made of black iron with burnished, silver edges and ending in a talon-like guantlet. Mejin will happily tell you the tale of how he simply woke up one morning and it was there, on his arm, and curiously irremovable. If your interest has been piqued, he'll happily direct you to his 3 volume biography, available at all fine bookstores.

History: Mejin's career as the quintessential adventurer has spanned almost five decades. Bumbling from one adventure to the next, a member of no fewer than 17 different adventuring bands, his life would seem by many to be guided by the insane hand of Zagyg himself... This amuses the demigod greatly as it happens to be true.

However, that is not his only patron from on high...

The strange relationship shared by the Demon Queen Lolth and Mejin A'koss can only be described as... well, it's best not to speculate. The story goes something like this - Many years ago Mejin was a member a renoun adventuring company called Silver... something-or-anothers. Anyway, repelling a seemingly simple giant raid led to the band to uncover nefarious plots that involved the mysterious drow and their dreaded Spider Queen. The band was very successful in following the trail deep into UnderOerth... right up until the Vault of the Drow. AFter a pitched battle with powerful clerics in Lolth's Temple, Mejin once again found himself the sole survivor (*sigh*). With the drow city now on high alert, Mejin weighed his options...

Yes, killing Lolth seemed the best idea.

"Word to the wise...", Mejin would say. "Even if you think you can get away with it, don't try and backstab a goddess. Really, just don't." It seems that Mejin tumbled onto the idea of leaping down from a balcony high in the grand temple, blades in hand, onto the oblivious back of Lolth in her enourmous spider form. After bouncing off her impregnable carapace he found himself flat on his a.. butt staring face to face with an, albeit puzzled, Demon Queen of Spiders.

"You must be the stupidest mortal in existence."

"Well... it was either this or life as purveyor of women's shoes. I think we can both agree I made the right decision."

"..."

"Would it help any if I said I really, really hurt my bottom?"

Apparently, Lolth has a sense of humor after all. Not much more is known of what transpired between the two but several weeks later Mejin was seen riding into Greyhawk City... on the back a giant spider he named "Ick".

Portrait: As far as how I'd want Mejin to be portrayed, there are a couple of ways you could go to really capture the true essence of the character. One, Mejin bouncing ignomiously off a rather surprised Lolth or... Two, Mejin chatting up some impressionable young thing on the streets of Greyhawk with Ick in the background rolling all 8 of his eyes in disgust.


'nuff said.

A'koss.

MrFilthyIke said:

Kai Lord,

What's the deadline?

Click to expand...

January 31st, as stated in the very first post of this thread.

Arel of Nareldyr

"You're all fine... but you're crazy."
- Bosley, Charlie's Angels 2.

CN Female Human Fighter/Ranger/Barbarian/Berserker (and a little Rogue)
Age: 39... for the last 6 years.
Height: 6' 2"
Weight: 165... *whack!* 110 lbs.

Description: I'm fairly certain a comb has never come within 10' of Arel's head. Her once proud red mane of hair is now streaked with grey and tied with a few scraggly braids. She was clearly quite the beauty in her day but the years of war and anger have taken their toll. Arel is probably the most... intense person you are ever likely to meet. She wears this perpetual disapproving scowl that only softens to a smile when she's about to hurt something. Her deeply lined and unforgiving blue eyes are have made kings shift in their seats. Arel firmly believes that her crimson scalemail shirt (fashioned from some nameless abyssal horror) is suitable for all social occasions. Certainly, no one has ever suggested otherwise... She also wears her trademarked wide legged gold embroidered leather breaches which almost looks like a dress when she bothers to stand up straight. Her fur lined boots have a concealed blade in each toe and is bound in Norse-like wrappings. Arel also has a bandana full of nasty implements of pain (small blades, caltrops, garrots, blinding powder, etc...) but her pride and joy is the dwarf-forged spear Tyrskaar she lovingly carries in her oversized guantlets. This heavy bladed weapon has a black iron shaft 8' long and an ornate s-curved spearhead forged of baatoran green steel. A series of small, rounded vents run the length of the spearhead that spews flame and smoke like a furnace on command. Did I mention Arel like fire...?

History: Arel the Warmaiden, Arel the Bloody, Arel the Viper, The Fang of Nareldyr revels in combat... a bit too much. Within her heart burns a rage you couldn't put out with a dozen magic decanters. An incredibly skilled warrior, her dwarf-forged spear has found the heart of countless beasts, monsters and demons. Arel demands respect from her few peers and subservience from everyone else... and what Arel wants, Arel gets. She has trained many hunters over the years who have gone on to become great heroes in their own right. Her followers are loyal with an almost... religious ferver.

Arel has... attention issues. Being the scrawny 4th child of 6 and with both of her parents being hunters she essentially grew up the forgotten child. Ignored by her parents, pushed around by her larger siblings slowly stoked the flames within. It didn't help that when a band of Frost Giants from Kaldyr raided their cliffside town and burned it to the ground they had ignored her too. She threw the largest little rocks she could at the giants but alas, couldn't even get their attention. It hardly seemed to matter that her family was dead and her home destroyed - it was the fact that she was, once again, ignored by those bigger than her that finally caused her subtle shift towards mayhem and dismemberment. Plus, those damn giants stepped on her little flower garden - that assured payback was forthcoming.

Arel was eventually found by one of the hunters from the larger city of Nareldyr... clinging by her teeth to his leg. I guess he saw potential there and trained the little feral girl. It wasn't long before Arel became hard to ignore - her weapons were the biggest, the battlecries the loudest. Eventually it was suggested that hunting might not be the best career choice for her. Arel wandered, hooking up with several adventuring bands over the years, but each time was (politely) asked to take her insane berserker heinie elsewhere. And each time, she'd kick the crap out of them and move on with no hard feelings. Next, she spent many years adventuring solo and it wasn't long before her reputation grew to the point where it attracted others of... similar ilk. It was when her newly formed "Fang Company" saved Nareldyr from the colossal Kaic that she was given the mantle of Warmaiden of Nareldyr.

And she'll be happy to remind you if you forget.

Portrait: Arel isn't happy unless she's clinging onto her furnace-spewing spear embedded deeply in the back of some colossal, rampaging Ice Beast.

A'koss.

I'll give it a shot...

Kosh
Character Notes:
Kosh, a giant among the Ramzadi lizardfolk, is spoken in whispers of reverence and awe among members of his own clan. His legendary accomplishments are boasted about and celebrated at Sanu gatherings everywhere. He is a warrior’s warrior. A lizard who lives for the thrill of combat and the carnage of battle. He has served on many armies across a multitude of worlds. He is the ultimate mercenary and perhaps, the ultimate killing machine.
Kosh made the decision to journey out into the world of adventuring shortly after reaching the age of maturity and passing the rites of manhood. He joined up with an adventuring company and proved his worth by killing an owlbear with his bare hands when the party was caught by surprise. His opponents often mistake him for a savage and dumb brute, but nothing is further from the truth. Kosh is a very intelligent (especially for his race) and calculating individual. His every move in combat is done with precision and an execution that puts him closer to his goal.

After serving time in an army, Kosh soon found himself exposed to the greater universe beyond his homeworld. Mistaken for a half-dragon, he was given the commission of officer within the Great Red Dragon Emperor’s elite forces where he put down rebellion after rebellion and killed for the glory thus becoming evil. It was during this time that he became proficient with the railgun rifle and became a true Slayer with his greatsword, Icingdeath.

Years went by and Kosh left the service of the Emperor after fulfilling his term of service three times over. The empire had a firm grip on the galaxy and the call of battle was no longer sounded as frequently. Besides, there were riches to be found and Kosh was a Ramzadi, after all. Besides, his purse was now light since he had sent nearly all of his acquired wealth back home to his clan during his shore leave trips there.

His adventures brought him to a worn-torn world where chaos reigned and law was almost non-existent in all but the largest of cities. Here a being with a good sword arm could do quite well as bodyguard and mercenary. In no time at all, Kosh found himself in the employ of a rich bloodlord serving as a bodyguard to the noble’s daughter. While serving her, he watched her grow from a small child to regal woman. During this time, her innocence and kind soul had an effect upon him. She showed him that there were other things in life other than blood and killing. He become more of an immovable force in combat and less the bloodthirsty slayer as he refined his combat techniques and learned that leaving your foes alive and trembling in fear was often a greater psychological advantage than simply killing them outright. In many ways, he grew to love the girl he was charged with protecting and when she married another bloodlord to cement a political alliance, he chose to leave her family’s employment and strike out on his own again.

It was during this time that Kosh discovered the presence of magical portals and gateways through his encounter with the strange human known as Matrix. A human who could travel through doorways and into other realms and worlds with ease. Matrix had a hardness about him that Kosh identified with and soon the two bonded in friendship. Kosh was startled to learn that Matrix was a slave to an evil organization and as such, subject to their whims and directions. He was also surprised at the manner in which Matrix rebelled against them, often in ways akin to vigilantism. In time the two parted ways, but fate would not keep them apart for long.

Kosh was adventuring alone when he accidentally stepped through a portal and found himself in the ruins of Myth Drannor. Much to his gleeful surprise, he discovered Matrix and a group of adventurers who called themselves The Company of the DragonWing. These individuals possessed skills and desires similar to Kosh’s and he chose to join them. Now many adventures later, he is a trusted member of the group and feels he has found a home among friends.

Personality:
Kosh has a love of treasure. Never stand between a ramzadi and his treasure if you want to remain healthy. He has a real fondness for gold but also has developed an equal fondness for women, especially elven and human ones. Try as he might, few women find a battle-scarred lizard nearly 11 ft. tall sexually appealing. Kosh's other love is music. Nothing gets him in the mood for battle faster than hearing elven battle operas or orcish war ballads. He often sings his own Ramzadi ballads while swinging Icingdeath in the throes of combat. Virtually nothing is safe from his ire and he has yet to encounter a monster that truly frightens him. He has slain demons, dragons, and undead alike. He has a special dislike for the other lizard races, regarding lizardfolk as lesser creatures in need of population control. He has a particular dislike for half-dragons and draconians whom he feels are an abomination to dragon kind in general. Kosh takes great pleasure in the destruction of draconians especially because of their sinister purpose behind their creation.

He has even come to regard magic as a necessity although he doesn't entirely trust mages yet. He thinks they are too fragile for the demands of battle. Their heads crush just like melons when he gets his hands on them. At least armor makes it a little more difficult to crush the bones of his opponents. Mages are a strange lot...

Kosh also has a habit of getting into tavern brawls. It seems that no matter what tavern or bar he visits, there is always some sot there that thinks he can take the lizard or else finds offense with Kosh's presence there (usually after Kosh hits on a barmaid or entertaining bard). No matter the cause, Kosh leaps into it with zest and thoroughly enjoys bashing heads together and throwing bodies through walls and windows. Because of this, Kosh has a reputation that usually proceeds him and the Company has gotten used to paying an insurance and damages retainer to the local law authorities whenever they enter a new town.

Greatest Moment in History:
Kosh has a phobia regarding water. Putting it simply, he hates it. Open bodies of water are something he will avoid whenever he can. However, there are times when a lizard must reach inside himself and find the courage to face that fear. Such was the case when the Company of the DragonWing found themselves under attack by not one, but two undead dragon turtles. The party mage had been knocked overboard when the first turtle rammed the ship, causing much of it to splinter. The members of the party divided their efforts, the dwarven cleric focusing his efforts on one turtle, the vampire necromancer taking on the other, while Matrix dove into the water to rescue the mage. As luck would have it, both turtles got the jump on their opponents and knocked them both from the fight temporarily. Seeing the events transpire before his eyes, Kosh sparks to life (nat. 20 on a Will save) and launches himself into battle, leaping from the broken bow of the ship with a bloodcurling warcry and dire flail spinning in hands towards the first undead creature. He landed upon the back of the creature and struck true and hard (another nat. 20), causing the creature to disintegrate in a blazing explosion of bone and tissue. The second turtle, enraged by the actions of Kosh and the destruction of its mate, charged the now sinking-like-rock Ramzadi. Knowing his likely fate, Kosh readied his flail as he sank and awaited the turtle. As the turtle approached, Kosh swung everything he had at the mouth of the great creature. Once again, his aim was true (a third nat. 20 in a row) and the flail connected. The explosive force shot him like a cannonball back and down further into the depths where his breath left him and blackness took him. If it were not for the combined actions of the rescued mage and cleric, Kosh would have been lost to the party. But if it were not for Kosh's ability to reach past his fear, the outcome wou have been much more dire. By the way, Kosh's first words when he revived, "I hate water!!"


Descriptive Notes:
The Ramzadi are a race of lizardfolk that average 8-9 ft. in height, although 10 ft. tall males are not unheard of in some regions. Their massive frames weigh between 600-700 lbs. with the largest males going as much as 800 lbs. Skin coloration of the species ranges from a light gray to a deep green-brown, depending upon the season and terrain. Ramzadi males have a crest on the back of their neck that tends to become hot and glows faintly when they are enraged. They use their long whip-like tail for both balance and combat purposes. The tail is usually 4-5 ft. in length and may regenerate over time if severed.

Laroo Manisaun

Laroo Manisaun
Class: Cleric of Procan/Ranger
Race: Human
Weapons: Trident, Dagger and Spiked leather armor
General thrust of the character: Laroo is a skilled underwater combatant and fiesty cleric to a storm god. Despite this, he's spent most of his "playing time" out of the water.
Character concept: Pearl diver turned adventurer.
Description: Laroo Manisaun is a short fellow with shoulder-length black hair and dark colored skin. In "Earth" terms, he looks like someone from Samoa or any other Pacific Island.
According to D&D rules, he wears spiked leather armor, but his armor is a lot less substantial than most leather armor is illustrated. In fact, his armor covers his legs, waist, wrist, hands and forearms. His forearm, hand guards, shins and knee protection are spiked. He doesn't wear boots or foot covering, prefering to walk barefoot. Rather than carrying a standard backpack, he wears a duffle slung over his shoulder. Around his neck is a woven hemp necklace that bares the holy sumbol of his god, Procan the Seastorm Bringer. The symbol looks like a oyster shell with three pearls clamped in its maw.
Combat: With a trident in one hand and a dagger in the other (Two-Weapon Fighting feat), Laroo makes for a wiley opponent. When functioning as a healer, he uses his spiked armor as his off-hand weapon. He's been well trained to fight thanks to his years as a pearl diver (Endurance, Skill Focus - Swim feats), where he encountered innumerable sea beasts. There, deep in the dark waters (Blind Fighting feat) he learned to hone his senses and attack by instinct.
His story: Laroo Manisaun was born and raised on a tropical island. There, one of the inhabitants' main trade goods was its development of a massive oyster bed in its many lagoons. From an early age, he learned to dive deep below the surface of the water, pry open the oysters and retrieve their valuable cargo.
Like many of his fellow divers, he began to worship Procan, the god of the angry seas. Unlike many, Laroo learned the tales of the Great One, performed the rites and became a full-fledged priest of the sea god.
But one day, life on the island changed forever, the earth tore open and spat out lava and fire, all at the behest of evil fire creatures. Laroo and the other residents fought the creatures as best they could, but it wasn't long until the island was destroyed.
A massive evacuation was ordered and the island was deserted.
Laroo and his fellow islanders scattered across the world. Some settled a new island. Others traveled to the mainland where they were absorbed into the populace.
But Laroo did something different, he decided to become an adventurer.
These dreams lead him to Freeport, where he joined a band of heroes trying to protect the pirate city from a sinister conspiracy.
Goals: Laroo hopes to someday buy a ship, return to his home island and root out the evil fire creatures (Favored Enemy - Fire outsiders) who have taken over the island.

The feet shuffled, the axes beat against the shields, defiant did the celestial confront them with his flame-hewn sword, his golden hair swirling in the light spring breeze. "Do you hear me you warmongerer! Do you hear my cry, I have no wish to battle you all, but if I must, I shall smite you until my love is returned to me in safety."

A great hush followed with these words, as the hosts, one fair one foul took stock of each other. A slow drumbeat began from the back of the blood-bound army, growing in tempo until the front-line continued with their stomping and clanging. And as soon as it had started another kind of silence fell across the army.

A dark cloaked figure walked with grace and certainty towards the front of the army, each soldier paying obeisance to such power, alongside came a hunched creature many a sword and spear sticking out of its body, it crawled maggot-like eagerly following along as if it were an eager pet nipping at the heels of his master.

From deep within the rotted and soiled hood came a voice both melodious and mocking, "you come to eve of battle with only, words? I do not think your troop will give me or my men much pleasure." "The pleasure is not for your taking, foul slave of chaos!” the celestial shouted back, "give me my love back, or else you will soon decorate my sword." "Strong words for a strong man, come let us see if you will still have your love-slave, for a sweet man such as yours will go fonder by the very presence it lacks." Pulling on a chain hidden behind, there comes a whimper as a girl, wild skirted and scared, fighting a lost battle against being drug by the chain, finally landing at the feet of the cloaked figure, cut and bruised. A wail of pure dread escaped her lips upon seeing her true love.

Stooping down, harshly fondling her hair and face, "what a pretty thing to fall in love with. I am sure it gave you plenty of sport, did it not. Oh, do not give me such a delightfully hated gaze, she has not been misused. I suppose now you would have me believe in the warrior code, do you think that with your god by your side you shall prevail against me in a duel, in heated battle..." The cloak ripped asunder, revealing a mask both beauteous and cruel, her body armored in blood spattered silver, wings of steel stabbing their way to sky. She lifted the girl to her intricately carved face. The girl's fear mirroring off empty sockets, she continued her sentence ever mocking, "...against your own sister?"

"What foul mind trickery is this, you who are no more worthy to call upon my dear departed sister's name, than that of the camp harlot. This is my last and final call, leave her be, or by all that is pure and true I will smite thee". His sword changed hue and grew more crackling as a bright diadem encircled his bright locks. His men became more confident.

All this time, she had been savouring the ripping of her dress, her gauntleted hands caressing her flesh, each breath of her's stealing that of her victim's "Do not worry, brother, I will save you from your desires. Fulcrum! Knife!" The creature shambled closer and she picked a knife from his body, with a clean strike shearing off the maiden's face, her spirit screaming, her body lacerating into bloody pieces as the soul was sucked down her mouthplate. The face still dripping, she pressed it against her own steel-clad face.

The celestial looked on in horror as the sky seemed to dim, watching his love's life being so horribly drained out by that fiend. Tears had dimmed his eyes for but a moment, and as sight returned, a strange sight did he confront. The figure that wore her face, the air began to swirl ominously, the body began twisting and reshaping, the layers of white metal stripping away, as the face upon its face cried once.

The armies looked on in awe as the chains dangling and dropped from the girl's hand, hale in face, her dress remade. Not knowing himself, the celestial in a haze of wonder rushed towards her, his troop following, she ran and met him open armed, as both foes joined each other in combat. His lips met hers in a lingering kiss. A sting was the suprise as he found his dagger buried hilt deep in his spurting neck. Her body pressed against his, she whispered in his ear, "come brother let me lead you out of the pain, your blood desires it, your flesh demands it."


Pulchra, like most battle-taskers was once a Celestial. Reknown for her beauty, she became for a baatezu, envious of her piety, an item to corrupt. She became conceited and haughty as honey sweetened poison was dripped into her ear by untold agents. Eventually her fall throuigh the love to a mortal was complete, and in her passion she gave away it all to be with her true prince. Arrogance was her ultimate downfall as she treated those with hidden power with contempt. Bruising and hurting those with a brash and angry tongue, until finally the castle was laid siege to by the blood-bound. Her body was offered as tribute, for them to do as they would wish.

Her wings were rent, they forced to crawl along the earth with broken limbs, as they slowly fed her prince to her. Until finally her only sustenance was the potion that they forced her to drink. As a final cruel act of torture, her mind long lost, was for her to be encased in the raiment of the blood-bound, she became lost under the weight of what had become of her. There was now no sense of gender or propriety, the last glimmer of the eye forever shut in steel.

For untold millennia as a warrior did 'he' fight in the ranks of the blod-bound army, until lust became dim, and in a moment of realization he remembered who was she. The powers of the Celestial, long thought lost even by her former self reawoke, more terrible than ever before. She hid her self behind the blazon of the soldier, and as soldier did he rise. Listening to the whispers during the long marches, during the ensuring millenia as she rose from a soldier of the second host to that of a Talon did she finally piece together with magic and deceit him who was behind the lies that caused her downfall. By this time he had risen to become the commander of the Talons, the Pulchra of old had died a long time and what were once impossible closes of thought, were wide concords. No longer bound in the mind, it was simple to grasp the power in the finger tips of the commander of the Talon. Those who had once manipulated her into her downfall would now list to her tune, as a blood-bound, he manipulated their desires and wants to kill his lord, the battle-tasker of the army, and for him to ascend to the position of the battle-tasker. His masters were pleased with his treatchery, and as a sign of largesse bade him to enter their city. Enter the army did, but not as allies as they thought, but as the serpent. She holds special the memory of her army laying siege to the undefended city, clawing its feeble defences away until it fell. The army being replenished with new recruits and slaves, those who did not turn coat were eagerly feasted upon, as the city flowed and dripped like an abatoir. No longer necessary was for her to hide behind the mask of subservience, and she supped that night on her former downtrodder.

With her blood tipped, razor sharp wings, she commands the battlefield with a detached, beauteous, blood-spattered face. Her commitatus, filled with flying creatures are former lovers, she has enjoyed into the blood-bound, each trying out do the other for a heart she no longer possesses.

Son_of_Thunder said:

Extremely convenient recap of all characters

Click to expand...

Fantastic work Son_of_Thunder! You've just ensured one of your characters a spot in the finals for your efforts!

Kai Lord said:

Fantastic work Son_of_Thunder! You've just ensured one of your characters a spot in the finals for your efforts!

Click to expand...

Just a thought Kai Lord, but I think it'd be even more convenient if you went and edited your first post in this thread to contain those links... It'll be easier to find for those just jumping in.

Cheers!

It's not Dragonlance, but it's a Dragonslayer paladin, so there's at least a similarity.

History
Hear ye, hear ye, the story of Berandor Marikulis.

Berandor grew up in the small Cormyrian village of Unterbruck ("below bridges" in German). His father died early, being killed by a red dragon, and the young boy remembered more an idealized version of him than what he really was like. At the age of twelve, Berandor set out from Unterbruck to be trained in the arts of war. What he found was more than just a sword - it was a calling. He returned to Unterbruck five years later, just like he had promised, to meet his childhood friends. By that time, he had already taken the first steps on the long and hard road to paladinhood, even if he still was a rash young man.

Together with his friends, he founded the Unterbruck Falcons, of which he was the leader and spokesman. The companions set out into the world to find adventure. Their first brush with danger led young Berandor to severly punish, if not torture, a man they needed answers from. After a sleepless night, he swore never to do such a cruel deed again, and gave away his belongings to the poor as penance. From that day on, Berandor shut his anger away. He only had one outlet: his dislike of dragons - especially red dragons - which intensified to hatred.

After slaying his first red dragon - the Falcons had been pointed to the lair by a kindly wizard that would soon become their "mentor" -, Berandor discovered a pair of red dragon eggs. He destroyed the first and took the second, bringing it to a Dragonslayer chapter that required just such a gift for prospective new members. Berandor partook in the initiation ceremony but spoke out of turn - he was still very much a townboy. The chapter president was furious at Berandor's mistake and threw him out, warning him not to come back unless he had learned manners. It took almost a year before Berandor returned and was finally instigated as a Dragonslayer. As a gift, he received a large shield made of red dragon scales.

Berandor also defeated the giant stone golem that threatened Ashabaford, where the whole party was nearly killed and he and his squire survived without a scratch. Even though he later left the city to an evil lord - there would have been too many civilian deaths -, he still retained the title of "Defender". Berandor also protected a dryad grove from a large tribe of hobgoblins, becoming a "Friend" to the woodland creatures. He rescued the Cormyrian Royal Princess for which he and his companions were gifted with the Golden Medal of Honor. For winning the Royal Tournament at Suzail, he was knighted as Lord of Dragonstone.

After several more adventures that led him to be wed and have a daughter, Berandor went into the Underdark to destroy an evil artefact. The Falcons killed the artefact's guardian, a shadow dragon, in large part to Berandor's brave assault: he spiderclimbed to the ceiling of the cavern, and when the dragon appeared, he dropped onto its back, climbed to the head and attacked the beast's eyes. Sadly, the artifact turned Berander Neutral Evil, but before he could do any harm, Torm appeared before him and offered him release from the curse for becoming one of Torm's emissaries. Berandor accepted, and his soul left his body to become that of a Giant Falcon that even now scours Cormyr and its neighbors for evil to vanquish.

Thus is the story of Berandor Marikulis of Dragonstone, Defender of Ashabaford, Friend of the Grove, Wearer of Cormyr's Golden Medal of Honor, Leader of the Unterbruck Falcons, Paladin of Torm, Dragonslayer.

Description
Berandor was a tall man with a somewhat large frame, accounting for his lack of dexterity. He was physically fit, though not impressively strong or enduring, but had an innocent-yet-firm smile. He had long black hair and blue eyes. Berandor's clothing was always immaculately clean; he even used perfume bags to scent his clothing, and make-up to accentuate his features. Berandor wore plate mail engraved with a falcon's claw over a bridge, and he fought with a lance when on horseback, or with his (later Holy) longsword in one and his dragonslayer shield in the other hand (the shield was made of red dragon scales, with serrated edges and a spike in the middle). He did not wear a helmet unless at a tourney.

His paladin's mount was a white, sleek horse (a light warhorse). It had small wings on each ankle that enabled it to make long jumps (later, the horse wore plate barding, and Zephyr's hooves).

Personality
Berandor was a kind, gentle man, always ready to spare a life - even of his enemies. He was a staunch follower of the codex, and preferred to be honest even when total honesty might not have been called for. He would never attack a creature simply for being evil; he saw good in everybody (which landed him in marriage with a reformed slaver). On some accounts, he even defended evil creatures from his friends.

Berandor despised torture and everything that might be construed as such, on account of his outburst early in his career. He hated red dragons with a fiery passion, this target being the only thing where he would allow his anger to take control of him.

Berandor always valued the life of others higher than his own. In battle, he would stop fighting, put away his sword, and lay hands on a companion in need, not caring for his own opponents. When faced with almost certain death, he would free his squire from all obligations to him and advise him to flee so that the squire wouldn't die as well.

Berandor was always happy to give but always ashamed to ask for something. He was never very joyful, preferring a quiet smile to that of rumbustious laughter. That intensified when he killed his mentor, to the point where all he would seek was happiness for others, being almost unable to be happy himself. The weight of his (perceived) responsibilities bore down on him.

Game Moment
(It was difficult, but I chose not to go with heroics here, but to choose the most important thing in Berandor's career)
Leading up to it:
The party had been imprisoned by the Zhentarim, an evil nation/organization in the Realms. (This is where Berandor met his future wife and was seduced by her... what?) after being interrogated and tortured, they were to fight in the arena with the possibility to earn their freedom. Each of the party members fought an opponent similar to their own, and defeated him more or less barely. Then, without any healing being allowed, the party as a whole was to fight the arena champion, a hulking minotaur warrior.

Side note:
The wizard Abraxas was somewhat of a mentor to the party. He had given them one of their first missions and enabled Berandor to slay his first dragon. The party believed - but could not prove - that Abraxas was a gold dragon in disguise. The wizard had disappeared quite a while ago.

In Game:
The minotaur advances on the party and brandishes its mighty axe. It whispers, "It's me, Abraxas. You have to kill me to get free."
The party is shocked. Berandor announces that he will not kill the mage, no matter the cost. Fighting ensues for a few rounds, during which Berandor's squire is dropped and the minotaur slightly harmed (Berandor did not attack). Again, the minotaur says, "Kill me. It's the only way. I will have to kill you otherwise." And to Berandor especially, "At least make it seem realistic. I will fake my death if possible."
So Berandor decides to attack, but miss on purpose.
[ME (to DM): I will attack, but look away and try not to hit, or hit too hard]
[DM: Alright, take a -5 on your attack]
[ME (rolls): Uhm... natural 20.]
So Berandor takes a wide and mightily-looking swing designed to look impressive but miss, and instead takes off Abraxas' head in one sweep. The crowd falls silent (one woman shrieking in joy), the players stare at me, Berandor drops to his knees and cries.

Result:
That moment really hung over Berandor's later career. He was ever more ambitious to defeat injustice and he felt his responsibilities like never before. He now knew that even if he tried to shy away from them, they would come callling.
Also, a few months later, he saw a painting of that fight in a noble's living room, and broke into tears again. The guilt of having killed the party's mentor, perhaps a gold dragon, of having killed him inadvertently *and* of having tried to shirk from his duty weighed heavily on him, but made him a better paladin and group leader in the end.

That's it. I hope it's not too long, or too much information.

Leif Vignirsson

Description
Leif Vignirsson is a tall man (6'10") and a man that is built like a brick house, with muscles tight on his frame. He is bald but has a full mountain man/viking beard with a few braide on the right hand side. When he is on another vessel, he usually wears leathers (containing a leather vest and leather pants, must have the arms free to strike) and weilds the most dangerous weapon on the high seas and what some now see as an artifact, The Shipsplitter, his greataxe. He is a quite man, someone who takes the orders given to him and will doggedly fight to save a member of his own crew if he can. Often he was simply known as a "gentl giant" or "denthead" for the fact that he kept hitting his head on everything, due to the nearly two foot difference between himself and the typical Mantean (see History for more detail).

History
After having his ship destryed in a freakish storm as it sailed away from his homeland, Leif found himself in the clutches of a Manetan (think a combo of Greek and Middle Eastern) slave ship, bound to be sold to someone who could use someone as big as him (average Mantean height was 5'). Eventually he was purcahsed by a clan of Manteans known as the Land Sea fleet and was told that he would be a part of their marines. He took the job without fuss, though he was told that he could get out of his slavery by doing a good job and bringing in ships that were needed for the Manteans to survive in their thousand islands habitiat.

Of course, this was a tall order in more ways than one for the giant Leif. His greataxe did a lot more damage than good at times, even to the point of splitting decks apart with a well placed strike. Of course, Leif would tell you to this day that the captain of that vessel they boarded was going for his gun and if he didn't kill him (by slicing THROUGH the captain and into the hull so forcefully that it slpit the hull open), Leif would be a dead man, but his marines know it was something different. It was actions like this that eventually mad ehim the leader of the marines and also made the captain dread to send him out to wooden ships. He helped uncover cannon ships that were being tested by the greatest Mantean rivlas, the Kurzim as well as find all sorts of treasure to help him become a great man and a legend among the Manteans.

Sadly, years later, he died while trying to fight off a giant squid but still managed to give the people something to cheer about as he nearly destryoed the squid on his own. To this day, Manteans raid the homeland of Normark to find men of stature that will be the same as Leif. His axe is a treasured artifact of the Land Sea fleet and is given to the admiral of the fleet as they feel this axe will give the admiral the inner strength that Leif possessed while lending the outer strength to punish their rivals.

Greatest Moment
Has to be when the Manteans found out that there was a Kurzim cannon ship, something that was unheard of and thought of as more of a legend than anything else. Leif and his captain thought otherwise and set out to find this cannon ship. First, they needed to take a Kurzim ship and use it as the bait to lure the cannon ship to it, then the Mantean ship would come to the side and allow the other marines to board from the other side.

You would think that this would be a peice of cake but it turned out to be quite an adventure. Leif and a select few of his trusted marines went aboard the Kurzim ship they selected and took it without much fuss, but with a lot of damage to the ship in itself. They limped along and played possum in the last area the gunship was spotted and sure enough, the gunship appeared. They sailed towards the ship and offered assistance, got close enough for Leif and his marines to board and all higgldy-piggldy broke out.

Unknown to them, each member of the ship carried his own gun (either a pistol or a rifle) and as the marines boarded from each vessel, they were being picked off by the crew of the gunship. All except Leif. Leif took out a few of the riflemen to allow the rest of his mariens to board, then decided that without orders from the captain, the crew would surely be lost. In a Terminator-esque march to the captains deck, he took out five more people with clean shots, cleaving through half of them with his greataxe and even splitting apart the stairs that were meant to give him passage up to the deck. He managed to climb up to the deck and with blood pouring out of every hole that was shot into him, he stalked after the captain (of course, after killing the two bodyguards who were terrible shots... some bodyguards, eh?) with grim conviction.

The captain said something that would be echoed by every other Kurzim that Leif would escort to death, "Why don't you just die?!" The captian shot Leif two more times, bringing Leif to death's door. But, with Leif last breath he invoked the name of Kor, one of the gods of his people and gathered enough stregth to... go on, guess... Cleave right through the captain and almost take out the steering column in the process. He passed out and was battling death.

In what makes this the greatest moment, he awoke after being tended to only to find out that there were two marinesleft out of a compliemt of fifteen. Not only had he taken out so many by himself but they were all amazed that he made it at all after all of that carnage. Those that survived would follow him but those who joined would be weary to be a part of his marines for the stories of his greatness and their casualties would be things of legends.