http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category:F ... _creatures

An useful piece for those thinking of a race and if you ammoniel want to specify your elven race then look at the elf topic, there you can find elves in the forgotten realms showing a number of specifications.

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

Here's my character- let me know if I need to change anything!

Name: Rathnak
Gender: Male
Race: Half-orc
Age: Unknown, looks around 35
Appearance: About six feet tall, very muscular. Black shoulder-length hair, dark eyes. Heavy, rough-looking facial features.
Clothes/weapons: Dark pants, shirt and cloak; leather vambraces and tall boots. He carries a hunting bow and arrows with him, as well as several knives.
Personality: He doesn't trust others easily, prefering to rely on himself. He's normally quiet and reserved.
History: The result of an Orc raping, Raskan was left in the wilderness when he was only a few days old. A group of nomadic Elves found him and raised him, albeit reluctantly. Relationships between the Half-orc and the Elves were uneasy. Raskan had an instinctive wariness of the Elves' magic. When he was twelve years old, he left the group and started wandering, living by his wits and strength. He's been arrested several times for thievery, but has managed to escape.

i changed my bio. I still can't think of a history though! ergh...its maddening.

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[font=Times New Roman]
Hello, I'm Amoniel
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I will post the first one probably tomorrow unless LDM is able to post a profile while I am still on today

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

Ugh...sorry for not getting my bio up yet. My life is going to somewhere in a handbasket right now, so I'll get the bio up first thing tomorrow.

_________________
Four Gods wait on the windowsill,
Where once eight Gods did war and will,
And if the Gods themselves may die,
What does that say for you and I?

Now, three Gods wait on the windowsill
Where one God's blood was lately spilled
While black tongues lap at the spreading pool
And build the strength they need to rule.

Is this character okay?

Name: Amaran

Race: Lythari (I got that from the wiki link you set up)

Age: 235

Appearance: about 6'00", tan, Dark brown hair and hazel eyes.

History: He lived a normal life until he was about 50. He went off on his own and lived with various wolf packs. About 33 years ago he finally joined society, though he's been know to travel in the woods for days on end.

Other: Since he is Lythari, he can change into a wolf at will. ((In his wolf for he looks like http://images.quizfarm.com/1136193571brownwolf.jpg))
He is a loner, but if he is comfortable with his surroundings he opens up. He prefers not to fight, but if it comes down to it he will defend himself. In his human form he does not carry any weapons because he can change shape to a wolf.

(Fine by me... LDM can still post the profile, but ppl we are starting now! I suggest you check my profile as I modified it a little and wouldn`t hurt to check the rest of em )

"Cursed spell barrier..."

The half elf muttered as he grabbed the bar and tried to use his powers to melt the metal, but to no avail as the Luskan`s mages had made sure that he could not use his powers inside the cell. Crove tsked and scratched his bearded chin with his eyes narrowing almost maliciously. He hadn`t come to Luskan to be lynched before the brainless masses and he had witnessed a few of those executions, all he knew that they weren`t pretty. The criminals were asked whether they were guilty, should they confess then they might get a quick death. Yet should anyone claim that they were innocent then it would be torture, public humiliation and screaming until the convicted would confess or die.

Crove hmphed and in frustration threw a small fire bolt at the barrier that absorbed it with a purple glow emanating from it. Crove turned to the floor and picked it a small piece of metal that he had found laying around. He began carving a circle into the floor and a carefully began making a symbol in the center. He guessed that he had nothing to lose, conjuring a being from another plane might end up in his own death, if the circle was even one bit wrong. Yet should it be precise then it would hold and whatever came trough would be bound to his power, hopefully. His thoughts and hand stopped the door to the cell block swung open, he quietly slipped the metal piece in his sleeve and sat on the bench of his cell. A guard entered with man clothed in robes, funny enough Crove recognized him as a mage of the Luskan`s mage guild as he had infiltrated their order briefly once. He could only guess what this was about, but kept a close eye on them and picked a few words of their conversation.

"Are you sure about letting these people out?" The guard asked with a most concerned and troubled voice as it would be his head that would roll, if there would be any complaints.

"Yes, they are to be escorted out of the city before dawn comes, but only after I share a few words with them. You may leave now."

The mage insisted with a clear tone, stating that he would not take anything negative as an answer. The guard left the block and slammed the door shut before going out as the mage proceeded in the middle of the cell block. He gazed around with clear disgust in his eyes, but tried to conceal it as he had some use of the lot held up in the cells. Crove walked up to the bars and leaned on them with his hands outside.

"What bring a mage of the order to a cell block of criminals in the middle of the night?" Crove asked there was a silence and other prisoners had woken up to look what was going on.

The mage threw a quiet, almost murdering gaze at Crove who only smirked back. The mage made few quick hand movements along with whispers, he pointed at each cell door at a time and they all swung open by the magic. Some of the prisoners stepped outside right away, with confusion and clear suspicion on their faces.

"I have come to make you an offering, an offering to `redeem` yourselves and to avoid dawn`s execution that awaits you. You may have committed heinous crimes here in Luskan, but I am offering you freedom, but in turn you must do something for me and never show your faces in the city again."

Crove hmhed with a pondering face and pushed his cell door open as the rest of the prisoners excited their cells. There were many suspicious looks from the rest of the prisoners, but they had also hope in their eyes. Everyone was clearly curious as to why they were given this chance, it was obvious that some of them had talents. Crove had already displayed his sorcery when trying to break the barrier and some others were skilled thieves and cutthroats.

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

"I will show my face in this city if I wish," hissed a voice, female, from the doorway of one of the shadowed cells. At first she was hard to pinpoint in the dimness, but as she stepped closer to the circle of torchlight her features were more visible. She was dressed in black, seemingly more from habit than necessity, and her skin was hardly lighter than her garb. Thick black hair fell around her face, which was similarly studded with black eyes like malevolent onyx. "Can you exile me for a crime I did not commit? I hardly think so."

The irony of this was apparent, but only to the woman herself, and she did not make it visible outwardly. "Better your payment, mage. It stands now as insufficient."

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(I will continue from here after everyone has their profiles posted and first posts made)

The mage hmphed at her with clear amusement in his voice as he turned to face the woman.

"Guilty or not you were brought here, you can choose to be executed in the morning or take up my offer and do not even think of attacking me now for I am more than capable of protecting myself from physical attacks. Not to mention should you take my offer and return then not even I could forgive you, then you would be killed by my order and there would not be a chance of survival...."

"What`s the deal ye mage?" A cutthroat demanded, interrupting the mage, and the mage nodded quietly.

"Very well, those who want to keep their lives shall be granted to leave the city and never to return, but where you would be heading would await a great reward for the daring. With the... `talent` gathered among you and my support, you could easily do what I need of you. I am offering you the chance to infiltrate the city of Silverymoon and to empty the very vaults of High Lady Alustriel Silverhand herself. All of it can be yours as long as you bring me one item in specific, that is all there is to it."

There was muttering amongst the thieves and partially eager nods, Crove simply answered with a high tone whistle as he was surprised how ambitious this mage was or how much power he had to hold in his order. This item was on great magical value indisputably, exactly what Crove was interested in. Crove smirked and brushed his hair quietly.

"I`ll take you on that offer mage"

The rest of the thieves and cutthroats were also eager to join right away as they were promised unspeakable riches, but now the gaze of the mage and those already going, towards the rest of the group that weren`t apparently from the city to begin with or some at least.

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

"Arielle Merced." The magistrate was an ugly little man, wrinkled beyond imagination, like a raisin that had been left in the sun for far too long. Warty, too, with unexpected tufts of hair piercing the toady growths. All in all, he was extremely hard on the eyes, so Arielle kept hers lowered. After all, he might be moved to mercy by a show of humility.

"You have been charged with high treason and conspiracy against the most sovereign city of Luskan -"

She cut him off; she couldn't help herself. "Your Honor, it's no treason of my making. I'm just the weapon; it's Geoff d'Alarney you should be draggin' up here -"

"Silence!" The magistrate pounded his gavel on the rickety desk several times, just to make his point. He cleared his throat imperiously and shuffled through some parchment sheets. "Arielle Merced. Mercenary." And adventurer. He obviously left that part out. She didn't comment. "How do you plead: guilty, or not guilty?"

Hmmm. That was the question, wasn't it? She took her time considering it.

"It should be noted that this court will reward a rapid confession with an equally rapid death."

She noted it, hearing also the unsaid portion: if she pleaded not guilty, she would probably be racked. Or wheeled and braided. All of the above were extremely painful, and she would prefer to avoid pain. "Guilty as charged," she replied nonchalantly, and shrugged.

The gavel descended once again. "Arielle Merced, you have been found guilty of high treason, and are therefore sentenced to death by axe. Date of execution: tomorrow noon. Take her away."

Arielle's eyes flew open, and she sat up with a jerk, staring into the dank shadows of her cell. A dream, a dream, it was only a dream ... and it was past midnight, so it was her execution day. What a thought to wake up to. Why had she woken up?

Something about the cell block had changed; something was different about the atmosphere. Turning to stare past the bars of her cell, she saw the source, standing in the light of a fitfully guttering torch. A mage, she was sure. It didn't have anything to do with her minor endowment of power - he just looked like one; it was something about the eyes and posture. And he was letting them out.

The mercenary didn't bother to ask why - she liked her life too much. When her cell door popped open, she slipped out, trying to be inconspicuous, but quite sure that she wasn't succeeding. But as long as she didn't have to face the axe at noon, she would do just about anything.

Especially if there were piles of valuables to be claimed.

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<center>Nothing but the Rain</center>

((I'm a bit confused. Is the mage inyour cell talking to all of us? (considereing we're all in the jail) ))

It had been a sleepless night for the quiet Moon-Elf sitting in a dark corner of the cell. She twirled a piece of silvery blonde hair around one of her pale, slender fingers as she contemplated what she had done to get herself into this mess. Well, she had really done nothing, but of course the authorities didn't see it that way.

The small cottage was dark and quiet. It was late into the night, far too late for visitors, so it surprised Ylera when a knock sounded on her door. She shook her head. It was times like these when she wished more than anything that she had the ability to use magic. She put down the book she was reading and slowly moved to the door. Maybe it was just someone needing a remedy. After all, people did get sick in the night... but it didn't feel like something as innocent as that.

She grabbed the small hunting knife on her table and called, "Who is it?" Her soft voice echoed in the silence. There was no answer. "Who is out there?" she said again, her voice harder and more determined now, "Tell me or you'll stay out in the cold until your dying day."

"Let me in, woman," came a gruff voice from the other side of the door, "Who are you to deny a weary traveler the comforts of food and drink?"

Anger bristling deep inside, she went to the door and opened it. The tall man standing out on her small porch was met with a glare. "And who are you to be traipsing about in the middle of the night?" she demanded of the man as she ushered him in, "If it was not my practice to aid anyone who asks it of me, I would turn you away with nothing."

"You're too kind, lady." Then everything happened so quickly. She shouldn't have turned her back on him. She knew that, but she did it anyway. Then he was able to grab her around the waste. His strong arms held her against him, and she struggled to get away.

She couldn't let this happen. She didn't know what he wanted exactly, but whether it was to loot some of her belongings and money or to force himself upon her, she wasn't going to let him. She couldn't. Then she remembered that she still clutched the small knife in her fist. With as much force as she could muster, she drove her hand backwards.

Ylera shook her head. When the local magistrate by chance came by her cottage the next day to buy a herbal remedy for his sick daughter, he found her trying to dispose of the man's body. Then, no amount of her explanations or pleading could make him believe that what she had done was self defense. The way he saw it, she was a cold blooded murderer.

Only then did Ylera realize that there was another presence at the cell. A mage... and he was letting them out? She stood and resignedly walked out of the cell with the others, not really caring about her fate.

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I'm back!

((I changed my charrie's name- I realized how close Raskan sounded to Luskan))

Rathnak lay on the straw pallet in his cell, staring at the darkened ceiling. He shifted, making the straw crackle and rustle under his weight. This was how he had spent the past two hours; staring into the dark and trying to get comfortable. And thinking. He had been doing plenty of thinking.

The half-orc had been arrested several times in his life, sometimes for legitimate crimes, but other times he had been falsely accused. He had managed to escape the gallows so far, but it looked like his luck may have finally abandoned him.

Arrested for stealing food and a dagger, Ruthnak had been in the jail cell for the past day. After examining the bars and wall closely, it looked like he wasn't going to be escaping.

Voices in a nearby cell woke Ruthnak from his half sleep. As he sat up, the door to his own cell swung open with a soft creak. Not one to question fate, the half-orc quickly walked out of the cell. He saw the mage, and listened to his words closely.

He nodded after the mage finished speaking and stepped forward. "Just tell me how to get there- I'm in." The thought of riches didn't mean much to Ruthnak, but he did value his freedom.

OOC: Sorry for not getting my bio up when I said, but my day has been hetic. Here it is:

***

Name: Tallis
Race: Avariel
Class: Ranger (ranged speciality)
Weapons: Elven double bow, enchanted quiver of umlimited arrows, and two four-bladed weapons. (pic here: http://www.blade-empire.com/Kit_Rae/Adrasil.shtml )
Age: 273
Height: 5' 11"
Appearance: He has saphire eyes and light brown hair in a close cut style. His garb comprises of a tunic, boots, belt, cloak, mantle and hooded yoke of soft white wool (the mantle and yoke are thrown over his wingswhen he wishes to conceal them but otherwise falls between them).
Personality: Quite and soft-spoken, Tallis would rather avoid an argument than be involved in one. He will take orders as long as he agrees with them, but if he doesn't, he will say why and still not go along with the plan unless the flaw that he thinks he sees is corrected. He also prefers to aviod fights if at all possible, but if he must fight, he prefers to do so with his bow from high above his enemies.
History: Tallis left his Avariel home when he killed one of his fellow citizens. He continually claims it was self-defense, but there was no way to determine if it was self-defense or if he murdered the other Avariel, so he was exiled instead of exicuted. He made quite a living being a hunter of all game, no matter how large or small, how dangerous, or how illegal. He helped free a man from the Luskan prison when there was evidence that he was not guilty but his trial was already over and they would not allow any new evidence to be admitted. Reminded of how he was exiled from his home, Tallis decided to help the man escape. He was sucessful, but was later caught while he was asleep, waking up with a net thrown over him. He was then taken to the Luskan jail, where he now waits for his execution.

***

There you go. If there are any problems with that and you would like me to change it, then just let me know.

IC: Tallis sat next to the tiny barred window of his grimy cell, staring out at the night sky. He missed the feeling of wind beneath his wings. Heck, he would even settle for feeling the wind of his face if that was all he could get. But I will get that, he mused, on my execution day, now won't I?

Then the mage entered the cell block, promising to release them if they would do a job for him and never show their faces in the town again. I'll go with the second one, gladly, Tallis though, but robbing the Lady of Sliverymoon? That was whole 'nother ball game. But...he really didn't want to die, he valued his life more that kinship to the elves as a whole, espically since they had cast him out for a crime he didn't commit.

"I'll join," he said, somewhat reluctantly. "Just one question, do we get our weapons back before we go? 'Cause that would really increase our chances of sucess." His real motives were the fact that his weapons were of sentimental value to him, they were the last reminant of his home, and while Tallis didn't exactly love them, they were still his home and he wanted those weapons. They also had a practicle use as well, as a quiver of unlimited arrows would be so much better than having to make his own arrows, though he was proficient at creating them.

_________________
Four Gods wait on the windowsill,
Where once eight Gods did war and will,
And if the Gods themselves may die,
What does that say for you and I?

Now, three Gods wait on the windowsill
Where one God's blood was lately spilled
While black tongues lap at the spreading pool
And build the strength they need to rule.

bleargh, well did you actually read my post? the mage opened every cell in the hallway/cellblock and letting them all out into the hallway.

And for all, silvermoon is a human city and the ruler, Alustriel Silverhand is a powerful mage, just to note. I would still like to see LDM jump in, if it`s possible.

_________________

Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

[I'll get a post in today, but my next one won't be until next week]

Name: Falch'nus Duraelis
Gender: male
Race: human
Age: 34
Occupation: mercenary/bounty hunter
Appearance: http://i74.photobucket.com/albums/i273/ ... rdsman.jpg
Weapons: dirk; sabre; composite bow
Personality: pragmatic and a seasoned survivor; usually serves whomever hires him, but he can be strangely noble at times
History: Lingers around the Spine of the World, hiring himself to merchant caravans passing through. Frequent mercenary to many leaders of the northern cities.

----------

He'd killed the wrong woman.

How was he to know that the iniquitous Lady Ravenhand of Luskan had a second name, a spurious identity? Not only that, but a twin. A clone, an insurance policy that'd unnerved her enemies and kept her alive through many an assassination. She was a sorceress and a powerful one at that.

But how could Falch'nus Duraelis, a mere bounty hunter, have known that?

No. He had underestimated his quarry. In the back recesses of his mind, a single irritating voice hissed the truth. He should have known.

And so, in all his perfect ignorance, he'd dropped the brown sack at the feet of one who could very well be Calimport's most dangerous potentate. The brown sack containing the head of a woman who was not Lady Ravenhand. Understandably enough, the pasha had been furious. Lethally so.

Falch'nus nearly met his death on the shifting sands outside Calimport, two weeks before. Somehow he'd escaped, only to be cornered by Luskan's authorities two days later.

Prisoners Carnival was not a happy place, and the current magistrate did not make events any happier. Sitting in the darkness of his cell, he imagined hearing the screams of the so-called criminals, many of whom had done nothing more than get drunk at the wrong tavern. Hot irons, limbs torn apart... all for the pleasure of a cheering crowd. Human cruelty was sickening.

Above all, Falch'nus hated the agonizing wait for death. He was prepared to die - anticipating it, even - when a grating of metal jerked him to vigilance. At first his torpid mind registered blank bemusement. Luskan mages in particular were sadistic and shrewd - why should his liberator be any different? But the other convicted were more or less eagerly escaping their cells. Many of his cellmates appeared the mercenary type, through the moon elf and the ranger looked innocent enough.

He listened to the mage's speech with waxing curiousity. It wasn't until Silverymoon was mentioned did he stiffen. He'd been hired by Lady Alustriel on numerous occasion. The lovely, imperious lady was a formidable wizardess, one of the best in Faerun. "Emptying her vaults" was suicidal. And despite all his pragmatism, a sentiment deep within him protested that Lady Alustriel had no bounty on her head, had committed no crime. She was a vigilante, a defender of the goodly races. She was innocent.

Remembering the mage, Falch'nus quickly masked his emotions. For now he would accept the task, even if it meant betraying this group in the end.

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