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Q'Barra: Into the Emerald Forest - Attempting to Revive!
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<blockquote data-quote="James Heard" data-source="post: 2151078" data-attributes="member: 7280"><p>Vanak ir'Clarn</p><p>Male Human Aristocrat 1/Wizard 3</p><p>CN</p><p></p><p>Str 9 Dex 13 Con 10 Int 18 Wis 10 Cha 13</p><p></p><p>Feats: Scribe Scroll, Improved Initiative, Spell Focus - Enchantment, Heroic Spirit</p><p></p><p>Background</p><p>Working for the Citadel is usually a fairly prestigious job for just about anyone, or so you would think. That is, of course, what the splashy posters on the towers of Tradefair promised after all. It's not all that it's cut out to be though. In fact, for Vanak ir'Clarn it has turned out to be perhaps MUCH less than it was as presented.</p><p></p><p>Maybe if only Van's older brothers hadn't somehow successfully pulled through the war despite their obvious incompetence, or maybe the turning point was when he got drunk with his friend Rol and decided to volunteer for the "high pay, good promotion possibilities" foreign assignment. Hell, he thought they'd have be sent to Karrnath to infiltrate the ranks of the wealthy and elite like some awful Firelight theater melodrama. Instead Van was exiled to the very edge of the world, to far away, gods-forsaken Q'barra.</p><p></p><p>Personality</p><p>The people of Q'barra are peasants and poseurs, pretending to glorify the luxuries of old Galifar while slowly rotting away in a verdant green hellhole. Van tries to be understanding and polite. Unfortunately, he hates the heat and the humidity, the bugs and the astonishing lack of similarities between Newthrone and his beloved Sharn. Sometimes he feels like part of him is rotting inside as well, wondering if the reports he dutifully sends back to Breland are read by anyone at all or if the entire world has forgotten him. </p><p></p><p>Van drinks too much, and keeps with loose company. His aristocratic manners are mostly all wrung out from the heat. His cynicism and sarcasm have been hard-earned, and his morals are worse for the wear as well. He's pretty sure that he's a lost cause set to soak in the jungle where he can't do anyone any more harm. Sometimes he tries to make the best of that, other times he'd rather go wander the redlight district in a kobold ghetto. Most of, most crucially though, Van wants to make a difference. To MAKE his superiors back home recognize the rather large opinion of himself that he sometimes still manages to pull off. He's afraid that that day might never come now though, now that the war is over.</p><p></p><p>Appearance</p><p>Van's in his early thirties but he looks a lot older most of the time. The years have been harder on his lordship's youngest child recently than they were to begin with. His clothes are uniformly rumpled and stained with sweat, favoring expensively cut white shirts with the sleeves rolled up and dark trousers. His dark, whiskey-soaked eyes don't focus properly all the time and his mouth is wedged into a perpetual scowl. His body is falling apart from too much alcohol and not enough food most of the time and, while he glares well above it, his rapier at his side is definitely only for show.</p><p></p><p>"Sometimes, it doesn't pay to get out of bed. For my crowns though, I'd say that I'd prefer that it wasn't every flense-loving morning. Newthrone is like a little slice of civilization dropped into hell and slowly boiled alive in the jungle. Roaches the size of sky coaches, googly-eyed lizards, and snakes. I should have told my handler where he could shove this assignment and fled to the Cogs in protest. I dunno, maybe sat around and made great big half-orc babies with some endearing mama orc. Anything would be better than Q'Barra, anything at all."</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Basically I started out thinking about Indiana Jones and ended up somewhere between The Last Boy Scout and Constantine I think. He's the hero that didn't get a chance to happen during the war. Thanks to either the well-intended actions of distant relations, a reward to his older siblings, or even a serious case of under-appreciation in the halls of the Citadel he got placed in an environment that didn't challenge him except in his liver. Most people look at him and probably assume he's just another ex-pat bum running away from the ghosts of the war, but he's been dutifully sending off his reports for years now. He might clean up his act, or he might not. He's more than a little bit lost which, considering that this is only the second time I've considered playing PbP, is no wonder. Anyway, I hope I presented what you wanted.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="James Heard, post: 2151078, member: 7280"] Vanak ir'Clarn Male Human Aristocrat 1/Wizard 3 CN Str 9 Dex 13 Con 10 Int 18 Wis 10 Cha 13 Feats: Scribe Scroll, Improved Initiative, Spell Focus - Enchantment, Heroic Spirit Background Working for the Citadel is usually a fairly prestigious job for just about anyone, or so you would think. That is, of course, what the splashy posters on the towers of Tradefair promised after all. It's not all that it's cut out to be though. In fact, for Vanak ir'Clarn it has turned out to be perhaps MUCH less than it was as presented. Maybe if only Van's older brothers hadn't somehow successfully pulled through the war despite their obvious incompetence, or maybe the turning point was when he got drunk with his friend Rol and decided to volunteer for the "high pay, good promotion possibilities" foreign assignment. Hell, he thought they'd have be sent to Karrnath to infiltrate the ranks of the wealthy and elite like some awful Firelight theater melodrama. Instead Van was exiled to the very edge of the world, to far away, gods-forsaken Q'barra. Personality The people of Q'barra are peasants and poseurs, pretending to glorify the luxuries of old Galifar while slowly rotting away in a verdant green hellhole. Van tries to be understanding and polite. Unfortunately, he hates the heat and the humidity, the bugs and the astonishing lack of similarities between Newthrone and his beloved Sharn. Sometimes he feels like part of him is rotting inside as well, wondering if the reports he dutifully sends back to Breland are read by anyone at all or if the entire world has forgotten him. Van drinks too much, and keeps with loose company. His aristocratic manners are mostly all wrung out from the heat. His cynicism and sarcasm have been hard-earned, and his morals are worse for the wear as well. He's pretty sure that he's a lost cause set to soak in the jungle where he can't do anyone any more harm. Sometimes he tries to make the best of that, other times he'd rather go wander the redlight district in a kobold ghetto. Most of, most crucially though, Van wants to make a difference. To MAKE his superiors back home recognize the rather large opinion of himself that he sometimes still manages to pull off. He's afraid that that day might never come now though, now that the war is over. Appearance Van's in his early thirties but he looks a lot older most of the time. The years have been harder on his lordship's youngest child recently than they were to begin with. His clothes are uniformly rumpled and stained with sweat, favoring expensively cut white shirts with the sleeves rolled up and dark trousers. His dark, whiskey-soaked eyes don't focus properly all the time and his mouth is wedged into a perpetual scowl. His body is falling apart from too much alcohol and not enough food most of the time and, while he glares well above it, his rapier at his side is definitely only for show. "Sometimes, it doesn't pay to get out of bed. For my crowns though, I'd say that I'd prefer that it wasn't every flense-loving morning. Newthrone is like a little slice of civilization dropped into hell and slowly boiled alive in the jungle. Roaches the size of sky coaches, googly-eyed lizards, and snakes. I should have told my handler where he could shove this assignment and fled to the Cogs in protest. I dunno, maybe sat around and made great big half-orc babies with some endearing mama orc. Anything would be better than Q'Barra, anything at all." Basically I started out thinking about Indiana Jones and ended up somewhere between The Last Boy Scout and Constantine I think. He's the hero that didn't get a chance to happen during the war. Thanks to either the well-intended actions of distant relations, a reward to his older siblings, or even a serious case of under-appreciation in the halls of the Citadel he got placed in an environment that didn't challenge him except in his liver. Most people look at him and probably assume he's just another ex-pat bum running away from the ghosts of the war, but he's been dutifully sending off his reports for years now. He might clean up his act, or he might not. He's more than a little bit lost which, considering that this is only the second time I've considered playing PbP, is no wonder. Anyway, I hope I presented what you wanted. [/QUOTE]
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