Sharry is a typical Formourian street urchin. Her name is a corruption of her given name, Michele of Ryanhold (where she’s from). She gets by on scrounging for scraps, begging, and the occassional opportunistic theft.
She wanted a Genii as her magical slave, but when the spell went wrong, she ended up becoming one herself…
A great demon of death and destruction.
Dimble Stumpwater is this worlds last best hope for expedient library book returns
A feral, neanderthal-like man whose become a (somewhat) king amonsgst men, sorta.
Do you know what this means? asked the healer, staring earnestly at the boy from beneath his bushy white eyebrows.
Xander shook his head, his lip trembling.
The healer’s felt a rush of sympathy for the child. he reminded him of Shalleah somehow. 13 years was such a young age to die.
“You have but three months left.” he said slowly and softly. Each word rang solitarily through the room, and though they were whispered they had more impact then anything the young boy had ever heard before.
Worldly girl from a small northern berg, who likes to get in trouble.
Prince Reza Ironfist is an interesting kid who will make an interesting hostage for ransom - but tough to keep under lock and key - Think Macaulay Culkin’s character in Home Alone but muchly toned down.
An escaped goblin who only wants to live his life to help others. Yet humans and other more advanced races push him down and chase him off.
A totally throw away .. cannon fodder ..shove it in the mouth of the monster and run for it type of character. Useful though for ‘taken with a pound of salt’ information and running small unsavory errands.
A mysterious prophet who speaks in riddles.
A noble wizard with heart pure gold and feet… um, actually; hands on the ground.
Maris is a thief. A common, low down, swarmy thief. It’s not her fault she’s that way, though. She’s nice, has a sweet personality, and is most likely to talk a person into giving ‘the poor, suffering little me’ their money, due to her limited skills as a pickpoket.
What she is skilled at, however, is very, very strange for a theif. She likes reading, and has collected many old manuscripts, and is sometimes saught out for just knowledge.
Sayth is a halfling born in a poor home. He’s quick with great agility, and speed. Though he lacks knowlege but he is always willing to learn somthing new.
“Everybody knows that!” -Mantra of knowitalls everywhere.
Everybody must be the wisest person in all of Creation, because he seems to know everything!
A very powerful mage ready to help out anyone in need. She’s very smart so you should usually listen to what she says.She is mainly a specilist in the element of water and a little in the element of air.She takes the ring of fire so she can use the element that she doesn’t know much about as an advantage to learn more about it. She uses a quarter staff as her weapon and she only wears a light robe.
Getting sick of people who’s destiny it is to save the world? Well, that’s sure as hell not anything Randolphina’s like destiny!
Competent horsewoman, fauna instructor, and dagger wielder. This youthful maiden is also xeric: adapted to desert survival. Alia also has minor fire control, ranging from smoke to sparks to burning to warmth.
Though he is shunned as a beast to the outside world, none could deny his skill.
A knight of the dragon god zandragaal, memeber of the dragonwright.
Wytchwolde-Under-Ash, once a great Thorpe, was razed to the ground by the ruthless, and truth told more than slightly deranged, Porcelain Princess and her henchmen, the Purifiers. When the flames had at last subsided, and a kaleidoscope of swirling, dull-gray ash choked the sky, nine hundred acres of old growth iron spruce, black larch and weeping birch, was burned to utter cinders, along with the entire coven of witches comprising the Sisterhood of the Silver Teat.
Now, centuries later, the forests are somewhat re-grown, and the town of Foolswater stands where Wytchwolde-Under-Ash once did. It is said that even to this day, one can still find ashes in the otherwise potable well-water of this village. Once a year during the Winter Solstice, the “Ash-Wind” comes to Foolswater, a suffocating black cloud that passes quickly but leaves dead birds and animals in its wake, darkening the trees, and staining the sky with black snow. The inhabitants of the village know better than to be caught outside during the day-long Ash-Wind. Everyone is locked snugly inside, singing old hymns that curse and re-curse the burned witches who once called this place home.