Character Backgrounds

Post your character's background here.

Vallo walks out of the chapel slowly leaning on his staff as he walks. There is a dark mist surrounding his home and he knows something isn't right about the place. He starts to murmur some prayers and a bright light shines all around him and soon he almost has a dragon like appearance about him. His once pale white skin has turned into a dark gray and his eyes have gone into a rich yellow. His hands now that are holding both his staff and symbol now are clawed and he looks around the courtyard for the intruder. He spots a group of half orcs eating the remains of some fellow clerics and seem to be oblivious to him. His murmurs have quickened and changed a bit and he raises his arms to the sky and light pours out of his body. The orcs then look over to his and just as they are about to move Vallo brings his arms forwards towards the orcs and they combust in a holy fire.

He lowers back down to leaning on his staff and limps around again looking for more intruders. Some other orcs saw this ordeal with their companions so hid in the shadows waiting for a good opportunity to strike at this weird foe. Vallo walks past them and the orcs look at each other, nod and at once jump at Vallo. He stops dead and the holy markings on his body shine brightly and he brings his staff up and swipes one of the orcs out of the air slamming it into a nearby stone wall. For the second orc he ducks slightly and it jumps over him and he then looks towards the third orc. He starts to murmur prayers again as the orc runs towards him. He brings his holy symbol around and places it around his neck and then just stands straight as the orc run towards him. The orc doesn't think differently and goes for the attack on Vallo and slices into his stomach. Vallo grins slightly as the sword enters his body. He then pulls the orc towards him and brings out the blade. The orc looks down to see that there is no mark on his foe's body as if he didn't even hit him but he knew his blade went straight through. Vallo then twists the blade around and slices at the orc and the orc stunned at what just happens falls to the ground with its own blade protruding out of its chest.

Vallo's holy markings now were glowing furiously almost making his whole body look like its on fire. More and more orcs come to try to slay their foe but each 1 is slain that attempts. Scorch marks and beaten and bruised bodies now lie around the chapel which was once a holy place and Vallo knows there is more of this to come. He finds the orc leader quite a distance away from the attack and calls upon his god again. The orc leader doesn't believe what is happening before his eyes as this cleric once pale skin now has wings and flying towards him at tremendous speeds. Vallo slams into the orc leader and brings his staff across his throught and says three words.
"who sent you"
The orc then feels a burning on his neck and notices the staff is now a bright white and now specs of fire shoot out of it every now and then. He starts to cough from both the lack of air and the smoke that is surrounding him and he knows he doesn't have much longer to live and only has two choices.

The orc speaks. "if ya wan' ta find out who sen' us then go t' where mos' of da humans live. Look for da inkeepers of da Blue Moon Alehouse"

the cleric then releases the orc leader and starts to walk to the horizon. He knows this fight isn't over yet

oh.. 1 last thing to say..


IMA FIRING MAH LAZOR

Game was particularly scarce that day. Not even so much as a rabbit. Healfdene sighed to himself, returning yet another unfired arrow to his quiver.
"Cave mushrooms again, damn I hate cave mushrooms."
Suddenly, his keen eyes caught a glimpse of movement. A beautiful young buck grazing in the clearing ahead, it's blue eyes oblivious to the stalking danger. Smiling, Healfdene returned his arrow to it's rightful place, notched on his bowstring.

***

Somewhere deep in the Shadowfell. A beautiful, if heavily pierced and tattooed, Shadar-Kai woman is engaged in a fierce boasting match with her rival, a young priestess of the Raven Queen.

"15 frost trolls!"

"Ksaama! You lie bitch! That scar is from a knife. It's self inflicted!"

"You dare question my honour, Ioana?"

"A rat has more honour than you Heleyna! I killed 20 human warriors single handed!"

"Pah! a paltry number, if only those worthless humans could fight as efficiently as they die!"

"I'd like to see you do better!"

"You weak little maggot! I've fucked more men than you have killed!"

"A thousand bloodstained curses upon your house Heleyna, I shall make you eat those words!"

***

Some time later, on the Prime Material Plane, Ioana stalks through a forest somewhere in the Nentir Vale. It is violence she seeks. War and battle, death and passion. To live hard and fast. To die gloriously and be remembered. To leave a score of progeny in her wake as a testiment to her strength and sexual prowess. A higher score than that bitch Heleyna.

***

His breathing slows, his pulse quickens. He steps silently with the practiced ease of an expert hunter. The air is crisp with the tension of the moment. This is the moment he lives for, the art of the hunt. The bowstring draws back smoothly in tandem with the breath of the hunter. His gaze is focused on his quarry, nothing can stop him now. Thwak! It's done. The arrow is loosed. It flies true. For better or worse nothing in the world can keep this arrow from it's mark. Except...

***

Ioana is bored. She has killed nothing but bears and tigers in weeks. This stupid forest seems to stretch on for ever. She yearns for the darkness of the Shadowfell but she cannot return yet. Not with so little to brag about. She sees a young buck grazing in a small clearing. Not worth her time. She wants a battle, something that fights back. Then she sees the hunter. A handsome man in his late 30's. Definately a puny human but with slighty curved ears. Some elven blood maybe? It matters not. To her, he is only prey.

***

Curved blades flew from the trees, carving Healfdene's arrow in twain and pinning him to a nearby trunk. A crazed, pale skinned woman with blue flames tattoed on her exposed flesh and a row of steel rings piercing her cheek and ear dropped from nowhere, bloodlust shone in her grey eyes. Eyes of forged steel like the blades she weilded with deadly precision. But she had underestimated her quarry. The hunter is no stranger to combat, he deftly grabbed the blade pinning him to the tree and parried her strikes. For a full twenty minutes they traded blows until she finally wrestled him to the ground. His arrows spent and knife out of reach, he lay beneath her, awaiting the final blow. Drawing his last breaths he felt at peace with his life. He was born to die here, in the forest.

The final coup de grâce was delivered but not from one of her many blades.
The kiss was brutal. Like a hungry wolverine, she forced herself upon him.
"You fight well for a human.", She grinned sadistically.
He could taste blood in his mouth.

***

Months past and Healfdene saw nothing more of the the strange woman. He still thought of that day, and the three days of crazy passion that followed it. He still had the scars. Then, one cold winter's night, his cabin door was loudly kicked down and she stood before him like a crazed valkyrie. Gusts of frozen air filled the room. She looked much as she had on their first encounter except for two new scars on her throat and arm, displayed proudly like trophies of victorious battles. In her hand she held a naked screaming baby, only a few weeks old.

"I think this one is yours." she snarled coldly and threw the frightened boy directly at Healfdane's head.

He barely caught the child. Startled and confused, he looked quizzically back in her direction. Without another word she turned away and the shadows turned with her. Cloaking herself in darkness she vanished into the night.

Shadar-Kai 1: "FOUR HUNDRED BABIES!!"
Shadar-Kai 2: "That's nothing!"
Shadar-Kai 1: "How many do you have?"
Shadar-kai 2: "OVER NINE THOUSAND!!"

this takes the element of surprise sex to an all new level

Little is known about he whom they call Zexion. Only those he trusts know his true name of Marnan Hollysword, although they like to call him Fluxx.

Being born a half-elf, he has the abilities of both heritages. Zexion, however, is unique, that he cannot feel any emotion. Little is known about his past, for he never openly shares information. It is rumoured he has the blood of an evil dragon coursing in his veins, which could answer to why he's devoid of feelings and how he gains his sorcery, although he himself is not evil.

One of the unique abilities he has is to open a portal to a house in the middle of a foggy nowhere and summoning various furniture in it. Initial trials of his ability only provides him with rickety wooden chairs that are uneven on the corners. How he happens to have this ability, nobody, not even Zexion himself, knows.

Now he tries his hardest to try and discover how he gained his sorcerer abilities, especially his construction spells, and why he cannot feel emotions. He has gained some friends along the way, who don't laugh at his last name, and has set off to find out the truth behind his being.