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Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Adept, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Genre You DON'T Like
Nation Building, School, and probably a lot more I can't think of right now.
Characters here!


Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day
Genders You Prefer Playing
Primarily Prefer Male
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Urban Fantasy, Horror
Merry Hemlock

Merry Hemlock came to Freeport decades ago and has been a fixture in the city ever since. He came to the city fleeing the consequences of an unspeakable crime, an artistic... experiment in combining the finest and most pleasing features of several dozen mortals into a perfected whole. All he achieved was a large number of maimed mortals, a bloody, stitched mess, and an iron-wielding village mob. He's mostly put out about the mess, though he has decided using humans as art supplies is more trouble than it's worth.

In his six centuries of life Merry has done many things and travelled to many places, but he has always been in love with the sea. These days he has a reputation as a gifted cartographer, creating beautifully painted maps on fine leather from animals he hunts himself in the jungles outside the city. He can also be chartered as a navigator, though he will not sign a legally binding contract or submit to a captain's authority, and he has a terrifying reputation for settling unpaid debts. When not at sea or in his home/workshop in the city's docks (easily found thanks to the giant petrified troll's head above the doorway as a sign), Merry is generally drinking any one of the city taverns dry or exploring the caves by the city.

Merry looks like a beguiling, androgynous youth in his late teens. Slender and lightly built, his fae nature is clear from his sharply pointed ears and sleek, tortoiseshell fur that covers his legs from his knees down. Small songbirds are attracted to Merry and land on his shoulders until shooed away.

Name: Merry Hemlock
Level: 0
Ancestry: Elf

Academic (Science), Artist (Painter), Artisan (Leatherworker),
Boater, Carouser, Hunter, Scholar (Navigation), Spelunker

Immunities: Diseased, Damage from Disease, Charmed.
Shadowsight: Merry can see into areas in shadow as though they were well-lit.
Spell Defense: Merry takes half damage from spells and gains 1 boon on challenge rolls to resist spell effects. Magical attacks made against him are rolled with one bane.
Bewitching Presence: Merry gains one boon on all social attack rolls.
Iron Vulnerability: Merry is Impaired when in contact with iron. He also loses the benefits of Spell Defense and Bewitching Presence while in contact with iron and for one minute afterwards.

Strength: 10
(Modifier 0)

Intellect: 10
(Modifier 0)
Perception: 11
(Modifier +1)
Power: 0

Agility: 10
(Modifier +0)

Will: 10
(Modifier +0)

Health: 10
(Healing Rate: 2)

Damage: 0

Corruption: 1 Insanity: 0
Size: 1 Speed: 12 Defense: 10

Weapons and Equipment
Bronze Dagger, Bow, Fine Clothing

Quiver of 12 arrows, 2 small cakes (1 day's nourishment each), 1x healing potion, 3 bottles of wine, 6 copper pieces, the petrified head of a troll.
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The Blackclaw

A'hasas was hatched with a small clutch of Valossan in a dank cellar beneath Scurvytown, closing on a century back. His red eyes, silvered scale, and hooded neck roused the superstitious Clutchmother's interest, and he spent his first decade being lectured about the rites of Yig, in spite of his aggressive indifference. As he grew through his adolescence he managed to distance himself from her mothering, learning the more reputable trades Scurvytown had to offer. His dexterous paws lent themselves well to the art of forgery, and soon after he cajoled a drunken cartographer into sharing his trade.

In the years since, The Blackclaw has established a reputation as a map maker, both accurate and just inaccurate enough to throw off rivals. While his lodgings are paid for with smaller jobs, certifications and travel certificates, cartography and navigation are his passions. He hopes some day an intrepid captain will take him aboard a grand voyage in search of treasure and adventure.

Name: A'hasas, "The Blackclaw"
Level: 0
Ancestry: Serpent Person

Forger, Academic: Navigation, Scholar of Ancient Valossa

Common, Valossan

Darksight: You can see into areas obscured by shadows and darkness within medium range as if those areas were lit. Beyond this distance, you treat darkness as shadows and shadows as lit.
Teeth: Your teeth count as basic weapons that deal 1d3 damage and have the finesse property.
Curse of Yig: When you gain Corruption, you gain Insanity of an equal amount. Insanity gained in this way cannot be removed except by magic. If you go mad while you have Corruption, you take a penalty to Intellect equal to half your Corruption. If this penalty would reduce your Intellect to 5 or lower, you immediately and permanently become a degenerate serpent person and use its statistics in place of your own. The GM then takes control of your character.

Strength: 8 (-2) Agility: 11 (+1) Intellect: 11 (+1) Will: 9 (-1)
Health: 8 (HR:2) Defense: 11 Perception: 11 (+1)
Size: 1 Speed: 10 Power: 0

Damage: 0
Corruption: 0
Insanity: 0

Dagger, Sling (20 stones)

Common clothing, rucksack, 7 day's rations, waterskin, tinderbox, 2 torches, forgery kit, big bundle of sea charts, stolen Sea Lord's Guard badge
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Name: Stavros
Level: 0
Ancestry: Human

Strength: 10 (+0)
Agility 11 (+1)
Intellect 10 (0)
Will 10 (0)

Perception: 10
Defense: 11
Health: 10
Heal Rate: 2

Size: 1, Speed 10, Power 0
Damage 0, Insanity 0, Corruption 0
Languages: Common
Professions: Soldier, Sailor, Scholar (Magic)

Inventory: a dagger (1d3), clothing, a backpack, a week of rations, a waterskin, a tinderbox, 2 torches, and a pouch containing 2 cp.

Interesting Thing: 6-7, a disturbing recurring dream

Biography: Stavros was born in a remote province of the city-state of Zagaroum, the titan of the eastern seas. The empire purchased him at an early age, putting him into the tender care of the Janissary war-mages. These men -- slaves, wizards, warriors -- were bound through the emperor’s secret oath-magic to serve him unto to death, and serve they did. However, with time, their authority grew and their bonds chafed. Stavros was only beginning his initiation into the occult mysteries of the order when the elderly sultan suddenly died, leaving his incompetent, unhinged son on the Ebon Throne. With this unworthy man-child in charge, the oaths weakened, and the Janissaries made their move.

For his part, Stavros had no wish to participate in the bloodletting to follow. A quiet and dark youth, haunted by hazy dreams of a lost homeland, he took what few supplies he could and took the first ship out of the city of Zagaroum. All he has is that memory, and a name: Kilik, the rough-hewn slaver who sold him to the empire fifteen years ago. Only by chance did Stav hear of the man again; he had moved to Freeport to turn over a new leaf. Thus, the young janissary spent the last of his money on a journey to the legendary pirate freehold.

Stavros is a human man of twenty, with a tangle of black, slightly curly hair and a toned body tanned by the harsh equatorial sun. His equipment abandoned in Zagaroum -- odds were too high it had been cursed or was otherwise trackable -- he dresses like a common sailor.

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They're good direwolves, Drozzt
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Prestige, Douche, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Whichever is called for
Favorite Genres
Sci-fi, fantasy, horror, combinations of the above
Name: Whisper (Arnaut Brack)
Level: 0
Ancestry: Human/Revenant

Strength: 11
Agility: 11
Intellect: 9
Will: 10

Perception: 10
Defense: 10
Health: 10
Healing: 1/4

Size: 1, Speed: 10, Power: 0

Damage: 0, Insanity: 3, Corruption: 0
Languages: Common
Professions: Evangelist, Leather-worker

Immune: Damage from disease, poison; diseased, fatigued, poisoned status
Darksight: Can see in areas obscured by shadows within medium range as if they were lit. Beyond that, treat darkness as shadows and shadows as lit.
Eternal Returns: You die instantly when you become incapacitated, and remain dead for 1d3 hours. Then, if not decapitated, you return to life, heal [healing rate] damage, and gain 1d3 Insanity. Otherwise you are destroyed.
One Foot In The Grave: Only heal half the normal amount from magic and potions.

Inventory: Dagger, sling (w/20 stones), basic clothing, backpack, cloak, coil of rope, 1 week's rations, waterskin, tinderbox, 2 torches, purse with 5cp, leather-working toolkit, healing potion.

Arnaut Brack was the second-youngest of a moderately well-to-do offshoot of the noble House Brack of Freeport. The family became involved in a feud with another of the noble houses Tarjay,who wanted the tithes from the temple Arnaut's parents owned and administered. Harsh words in noble courts turned to blows in the streets as a vendetta soon developed. This offshoot of House Brack were known for their honour and piety, but the Tarjay had wealth and influence.

The eldest Brack brother, Harald, was manipulated into a duel which he lost badly enough to face disgrace and exile. A family heirloom that had been promised to Arnaut was stolen by thieves paid by the Tarjay family. Arnaut saw red and vowed to take it back, heading into the foetid sewers where he believed the thieves hid.
That is where he died. Some manner of trap tore his throat out.

He later learned that the Tarjay returned the body as a warning and ultimatum. That the funeral was sombre and dignified. That his family ceded their tithes to the Tarjay and the remaining children turned to whatever professions they could to keep the family afloat. Arnaut remembers descending into the Underworld. Remembers seeing in the gloomy mists glimpses of his death, his family's grief, the burial at sea. Remembers the burning anger, the NEED for vengeance, and a cold, rasping voice speaking to him from the eternal twilight: "Return, then, and claim your justice. Rip it from the chests of those who wronged you, raw and bloody."

He woke up on the shoreline, like a half-drowned castaway. Knew with certainty he was not alive, but neither was he dead. He had no idea how to do it, but he knew he had to avenge his own death and the suffering of his family. He stole into his workshop that night, liberating what money and equipment he could, and set up shop in Drac's End, far from faces that would recognise him. He had no plan but knew that money would be essential to take on one of the richest families in the city. He would do what he knew best, while loking for opportunities to further his goal of vengeance.

Arnaut was a handsome young man, but the trap which killed him left an ugly scar across his neck and the left side of his face and ruined his once pleasant baritone voice. He tends to cover his wounds up with a scarf, and obscures his rasping voice by rarely speaking above a whisper in public. To that end, his customers have taken to calling him Whisper, which suits Arnaut in his desire to stay anonymous until the time is right.

Parents- Johan and Elmira, both alive.
Younger brother- Pollo, alive,
Older brother- Harald, alive, but disgraced and in exile
Older brother- Tomas, alive
Older sister- Clara, alive,

No strong religious leanings
Quiet and withdrawn, uncomfortable in crowds
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Quarter goat on my mother's side.
Dread Captain Rustbucket

As a general rule, clockworks are created with a distinct purpose in mind. General rules, however, never applied to Captain Alphonse Delgado. Tinkerer, occultist and pirate, Delgado built the steamship The Steamed Clam from scratch, and a crew of clockwork minions to crew her. For a few years the weird bastard enjoyed a bit of infamy, the terror of shipping lanes from the Patchwork Lands into the Empire. Shame he wasn't especially nice to his creations. Despite personally stealing the souls that powered his creations, Delgado never saw them as anything more than machines and treated them as such. When the mutiny came it was unanimous, an entire crew of clockwork pirates turning on their captain. It was Number 012, his personal bodyguard, that overpowered Delgado, dragged him to the prow and strung him up, and it was Number 012 that took charge of the ship and it's skeleton crew, taking Delgado's hat and renaming himself Captain Rustbucket.

Up until recently, the pirate's life has been kind to Rustbucket. Seen as an entertaining local oddity in Freeport, he had no issues getting a Privateer's license and plying his murderous trade. Last week, however, a dispute with the harbourmaster turned ugly. The Steamed Clam, along with all it's cargo, was impounded, awaiting a trial date over docking fees and allegations of smuggling contraband. All true, naturally, but still. The remaining crew have taken this as a sign to try something new, and the Dread Captain is currently holed up in the Warehouse district, scheming a way to get his ship back.

Rustbucket is a three foot high, four foot long quadrapedal clockwork who resembles nothing so much a metal baboon. His body is battered and rusted from years of poor maintenance and sea air. He wears a captain's tricorn hat at all times, and a fake beard to show his authority.