You are a farmer, a teacher, a student, a merchant or perhaps just an unfortunate slave. Things are about to turn to your favor, or out of it if you wanted the quiet life, and you are sent on a journey to discover your fate!
We will begin with your cover identities and get to crunches later. I want you to develop your character not their class. Your actions and descriptions will have an effect on your character for weal or woe.
Come join us one and all to Sanctuary. Where adventurers haven't been needed for over a decade.
You should still come with ideas for your overall character but be willing to be flexible.
I hope to see plenty of villagers wandering around town when I wake up! Feel free to take liberties and have fun in town! The more vibrant and wealthy you make the town the better you start off.
Oh I forgot family in the discussion, I sure hope to see some siblings, aunts, uncles, and other family members too!!!
|Ensign 5th Account|
Unsure about what system this would be or if I should make an avatar. but here goes.
Cook-Cook is one of the (if not the only) goblin in Sanctuary. At first Cook-Cook came out of the dark forest, wandering in search of something, skittish, mumbling about some great revelation he needed. At first the townsfolk of Sanctuary chased him away, Cook-Cook driven to close-by, in hiding. Living on the edge of town, he got what food scraps he could, roasting them on an open fire.
When he found a broken iron pot among some thrown away gear, he made sure to fix it and start cooking more proper. To be honest, it smelled pretty good. Late in the evenings Cook-Cook could be heard talking to something or someone, calling out a weird name.
Eventually some of the children with a curious father came around as Cook-Cook was preparing his meal.
"Ah! Ah! Oi! You! You taste great meal? Great Meal of Cook-Cook? I share! Share much!"
The smell coming from the pot and the 3-quarter bowls he had scrounged up was delicious and looked quite good. "Sure I'll take a bite. Not any of you just yet." the man told the kids.
Some strange strings of dough with herbs and spices on it, the man took a careful bite and loved it. "This tastes delicious! What is it?"
Cook-Cook jumped up and down gleefully, happy that someone liked his food. "Ah yes! Special recipe! Given to Cook-Cook by the God himself! He say... called it... Noodles! That's it!"
The word spread around town about the meek goblin's cooking was great, eventually leading Cook-Cook to get his own Noodles stall and a place in the Cliffside Lookout Tavern to stay if he wanted. Cook-Cook his food is good, hearty and tasty, but people often question where he gets his ingredients from.
This seems interesting. Do you want this here or in the discussion or gameplay?
Looking up the road Andreas sees the signs oh hope, lights of a village. Despite the rain soaked clothes and muddy boots, Andreas gets an extra kick in his step. "Maybe my luck has just turned around... Once I get to this village, I'll find someone to help me fix my wagon and then I'll be able to bring my wares here to recoup the cost."
Once arriving in Sanctuary, Andreas finds the closest thing to a tavern and walks in. The heat of the fire and the smell of any food brings a smile to the old mans neatly kept bearded face. Handing a soaked duster and hat by the fire to dry, Andreas pulls himself up to the bar and with a warm smile hails the bar maid/tender. "Evening (sir/ma'am), a large mug of ale and a hot plate of whatever that deliscous smell is. Please. Oh, and where do I find myself this rainy evening?"
Looking around, Andreas takes in the locals and possible future customers.
A woman of fair skin with long pale blond hair and soft golden eyes came to meet Andreas. While she obviously took pride in her complexion, her clothes were that of a family that lived comfortably but not overly wealthy and her hands showed signs of calluses which symbolized a woman who worked for a living. Giving a warm smile to Andreas and answered his question. "You find yourself in the Drunken Dragon good sir." She grabbed a large mug from under the counter and moved to a keg behind her. After filling the mug she returned to Andreas and placed it before him. "What you smell is my ma's spiced potatoes, we also have a deer stew on the fire. Will you be needing a room too? We own the Dreaming Dragon as well, which is connected through there." She paused to point towards a door on the far east side of the tavern. "Oh and I'm Maqan by the way. A slice a bread, a small skillet of spiced potatoes, a bowl of deer stew, and a large mug of ale? The ale runs four copper, and the meal will, with everything I listened will cost you another four. However, if you're wanting a room we have a package deal. Are you interested?" Maqan asked with a raised eyebrow. "It also comes with a warm bath."
Urdrsk Stoneward is a young male dwarf, who along with his family commutes from Sanctuary to the nearby Cliffside Mines, digging deep into the earth to mine nearby copper and greenstone deposits. He wields a greatpick for his profession and protection. Urdrsk loves the simplicity of his job and his nearby family members/co-workers.
The Stonewards came from a distant dwarven city centuries ago, and most Stoneward family history is regulated to legend. The dwarven family is used to seeing the nearby races grow older faster than they do.
Urdrsk is a great lover of mushrooms. The young dwarf man loves them in all his food, and enjoys excursions into the countryside to hunt for them above and below ground. Urdrsk enjoys talking about mushrooms with druids and other woodsmen.
Urdrsk wears his shaggy brown hair and beard long, but manageable in the mines. He is quite stout for a dwarf but also tall, near 4 and a half feet tall; sadly this is often a hinderance in the mines. The dwarf miner likes to relax outside of work, often heading to the Drunken Dragon after work, but won't shy away from a bar fight if pushed to far. The young dwarf is unmarried, but his family is trying to set up an arranged marriage from a dwarven settlement several days journey away.
Gavin Fickletoe stumbles into his family's shop, out of breath and soggy from the rain, hoisting a clutch of rabbits with a big smile across face as he hangs his cloak by the door. "Pa, I got four today!"
Though Gavin's dad was nowhere in sight, his mother Gala enters from the kitchen, "Gav, it is well past dusk. You should have been back a hour ago!" Stepping forward, a half frown on her face, she reaches up and straightens his messy hair before taking the rabbits. Looking down at his bare feet she sees a wealth of mud and leaves on them. "No doubt you were getting in to some shenanigans... I hope you weren't off playing in those ruins. I don't like when you go there, and your father gets a bad feeling in his toes."
Gavin sighs and looks down before perking up with excitement. "I know... but, look what I found!? Treasure!" He holds up a few copper pieces, tarnished and bent with age, along with the broken hilt of a dagger, and a rusty iron goblet.
His mother only chuckles, "Oh, Gavin. I need to get these conies in the stew or we'll never eat tonight. Get cleaned up and find your father, I think he needs you to run something over to the Dragon before dinner."
Sure enough, Gavin's father Godrick had a bundle of cured meats for him to deliver to the Drunken Dragon, the only inn and tavern in their quiet village. It was wrapped up tight in waxed leather, and he hustled through the rain, jumping over puddles when he could, on his grand mission. Bursting through the taproom door with a big smile on his face and a gasp for breath. "Hey Maqan, I got your delivery from Fickletoe's Fine Meats! You want it up here, or should I take it to the kitchen?"
Gavin is a young halfling, just approaching adulthood. He stands a whopping 39 inches tall, and already has copper-red sideburns growing in to match his hair. His father Godrick Fickletoe is the proprietor of Fickletoe's Fine Meats. The family traps and hunts mostly small game, which they sell as cured meats and sausages. Gavin and his father both handle the hunting and trapping. And though Godrick is skilled in the kitchen, it is his wife Gala who has the special touch perfecting the spices for their creations. Gavin's little sister Grace seems to be showing the touch for taste that their mother has.
Varrick Buttermaker woke up in his customary way: coughing and cursing in various tongues when Taldan just wasn't profane enough. His mouth felt dry as the Numerian wastes, and almost as toxic. He reached out instinctively for his mug, and tried to down whatever he'd left last night. Turned out to he some mix of whiskey and tobacco and ash. He'd put his smoke out in his drink again, a fond prank of Last Night's Varrick.
Morning Varrick was less fond. He almost made it to his slop pail before vomiting, which, all things considered, was progress. After some quick washing, his now-empty stomach had strong desires for grease and payback. Varrick gets dressed and slicks his thick black hair back. Some would say his face had "character." That's usually a euphemism for "yikes." Still, he attempted a lopsided smile. Who ever heard of a poet who wasn't an ugly drunk, anyway?
To the Dragon he heads out, thinking of a rhyme for "puke."
"Dark Mother be praised." The tired whisper faded into the night, followed by the quiet click of a door latch as Gryusha slipped from the female field-laborer's dormitory.
The half-orc midwife had just delivered, fed, and bedded her third set of twins this week. Certainly a portentous sign from Dretha, if ever there was one.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Gryusha took her usual path to the Drunk Dragon, grateful for an ebb in the evening's rainstorm.
It was not an easy delivery, and she could still hear the disgust in the voice of the newborn babes' mother... To have her children nursed by an orc - not to mention the profane rituals practiced by this one!
Yet Gryusha knew it was those very observances of the Dark Mother that gave her a peerless delivery record - 22 births, 27 babes, and not a single loss between mother or child.
Gryusha had arrived at Sanctuary nearly two years ago, walking into the town with two mewling half-orc infants in her arms. Though she's tight-lipped about her past, the accepted story around town is that the half-orc fled her tribe with the children, knowing the life they had in store among full blooded orcs.
"Black Brandy!" she barks, slumping at the bar a few seats from Andreas.
Gryusha bears a number of small, earth-toned tribal tattoos on her pale greenish skin, and her hair is a mess of thin, well kept dreadlocks, adorned with colorful wooden beads. She can often be found telling the town children the orcish folk stories behind her tattoos, or with an infant in her arms, delightedly playing with her locks.
She wears simple green and brown robes, with the image of two gauntleted fists stitched roughly onto the back, stretched protectively over the poorly painted outline of a town not unlike Sanctuary.
Just caught the character ideas in Discussion. My proposed healer here is a bit different, but hopefully flavorful enough & still fit the bill!
"Go ahead and take it to the kitchen Gavin! Oh! And there is a fairly sized parchment for you to take back to your ma okay Gavin? Make sure she gets it. It is wrapped in wax paper so it won't get wet." Maqan said. Often she sent bread home with Gavin, knowing his mom liked it and today she got three long rolls wrapped up for her. "My ma should get you the coin as well."
Maqan laughed a bit with a shake of her head. "Hello Varrick." Maqan said as she got a mug ready for whatever he requested. "Of course it is the potatoes, it always fills the air." She added.
Hearing Gryusha call out Maqan moved down and set a glass before her, before reaching under the counter and picking up a bottle of Brandy, pouring it into the glass rather heavily. "Hey Gryusha." Maqan said softly. "You alright?"
Gryusha nods her thanks, and takes a hearty draught from the glass, before heaving a sigh and nodding again, remembering her manners, toothy grin in tow. "All's well. Thankee Miss Maqan.
Rummaging about her belt, she raises a furry brow, "That's six coppers, plus two for a hearty chunk of bread?"
Gryusha drops 4 copper pieces on the bar, begins rummaging again.
"Just hope to help some see new things in new light." she says brightly, winking at the young halfling in passing, before turning to Andreas, an evident stranger a few seats down, with obvious mistrust written on her face.
"Hah!" Gryusha snorts, clearly pleased with herself as she looks back to Maqan, slapping a hand on the bar (2cp more) before turning again to take stock of all those present.
Not a sloucher, Gryusha sits & stands at her full not-quite-6ft. While physically unimpressive, or perhaps mildly unpleasant, depending on preference, Gryusha's blunt features are often offset... oddly kiltered, rather, by her direct and lovingly gregarious nature.
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Gavin Fickletoe, Varrick Buttermaker, Gryusha welcome to the game!!!!
Go to Gameplay to repost your introduction, then go to Discussion for character creation and any other questions you might have. That is 3 and looking for one more, then we can get down to development! Though we might just start, sometimes it is good to start and if someone else comes they can catch up easily enough.
Cook-Cook is a goblin that does have some sort of routine to his daily going-ons. In the bright and early mornings he goes to forage for herbs and spices among fields and forests, they serve as his aromats for his noodles for that day. His skills of herbalism are more of a trial-and-error type of way, he always tests them out himself first before using it in his cooking. Through this method Cook-Cook has learned the warning signs of poisonous plants and mushrooms.
During the later hours of the morning, Cook-Cook prepares his broth and noodles for the day. Using his makeshift tools for cooking, it's not perfect but it suffices. He's very keen on perfecting his recipes. As long as he has a steady stream of herbs and spices, he could eventually have a great recipe for any dish. Even the dishes that don't contain noodles.
Most of the day he walks around town, offering from his little cart fresh noodles in, for the moment, a herbaceous or spicy broth.
He makes smalltalk with some of his regulars or the ones that try to make smalltalk with him. He's amiable enough, but usually he talks about his God and his noodles. It takes awhile before he opens up more to talk about other things, especially his own past with the Grimtooth tribe up in the hills close to the mountains beyond the dark woods. Strangely enough they couldn't follow him through the forest when they chased him away.
Late in the afternoon he cooks for himself or eats whatever is left of his noodles from the day. It is at that time that he also eats whatever meat he could have scrounged up or caught during the mornings. Rat, mouse, hamster, insects, thrown away chicken bones with meat on it. It doesn't really matter to him, but he knows that the villagers might not agree if they found it in their bowl.
In the evening he stays in a small room in a tavern. In my own post I said this was the Cliffside Lookout, but I'm not sure if there are two taverns in Sanctuary. If he has sold enough of his noodles to pay rent he does so, though the owner does not require him to do so as he's not a nuisance and even helps out from time to time in cleaning up.
Around midnight Cook-Cook leaves the tavern for a stroll in the dark and sits upon a hill overlooking part of the town. There he meditates and calls upon his Divine inspiration: to him he is the God of Noodles, the one that taught him to cook.
Often this is just a commune with his God, but sometimes this results in him getting a new recipe or preparation skills being taught. He knows how to cook noodles near perfectly now, it is probable that he will learn a new recipe soon.
Saronis being an elf only meditates 4 hours each night. He wakes up and goes for a 5 mile run. After that he works on core strength, involving push ups, situps, and other basic exercises for a half hour. Another half hour is set aside to practice his swings, shadow box, or spar. He typically bathes and reads for an hour in the bathtub.
He eats a hearty meal every morning, the life of a noble elf, no chores to speak of but he always does his best to improve himself. Tutoring for 4 hours a day on nobility, languages, history, and a different subject every week.
The rest of his time is devoted to his family and politics should festivities call him to be ready to dance at a ball or other activities.
Cook cooks looks good but here is another example.
Andreas is a traveling merchant. Long hours spent on the road traveling between cities, towns, villages, hamlets, and even the occasional thorp. Due to the long travel times Andreas has found himself becoming a lover of maps. In his merchant wagon he has a collection of regional maps, all from different makers.
Upon arriving in a village, Andreas makes himself known with a flair. Maybe some news from a distant city, possibility of nations going to war, or even tales of resources becoming scarce to help increase their desire for the goods.
He will typically try to get his meals and board paid for by doing some trading for items the inn might be in need of.
Within Andreas merchant wagon he carries a wide range of goods, mostly items that you would find in a General Goods Store in larger cities. He does have a few simple and common weapons. Things that those traveling the roads and highways might need. Even a few weapons that farmers and shepherds might use to fight off wolves.
Andreas is always looking to buy out, or trade for, supplies that a village might produce for goods he carries.
When the customers start coming in, Maqan wearing her smile greets them and serves them their food and weak ale, also offering juice and milk to those who don't wish for ale or are too young. Morning never seem too busy but around lunch time and dinner is when the tavern is in greater swing. Maqan never stops moving, getting food or drink to the patrons of the Drunken Dragon. Often the barmaid skips lunch all together and only eats during the lunch and dinner rushes, even then it is something small.
When the night comes to a close it is Maqan that ushers the people of the tavern who aren't getting a room out of the establishment. Then helps her father with those getting a room and warming water for the baths. When that is done, Maqan finally goes to bed, ready for the next day.
There are some times, though they are rare, that Maqan's mother or father has to settle a dispute for Maqan or for other people. When they're doing that Maqan picks up the slack for which ever parent is out. Always with a smile upon her face.
Gavin's day starts earlier than he'd like most days, as his ma and pa rise him out of bed to start his duties. He heads out the back of their house and spends a while tending to their livestock, mostly chickens and sheep (kept for eggs and milk). He brings them feed, clears out their pens, and collects any eggs that were laid overnight.
Next Gavin sits for a simple, hearty meal with his family. The four always start their day together, telling stories, laughing and joking. The Fickletoes are a lighthearted family. After breakfast he is off to the nearby woods to collect, cut, and haul firewood. Given that the family produces meats in a range of varieties (cured, boiled, smoked), cooking happens for hours on end and a great deal of fuel is needed. He usually makes several trips back and forth to the house with a full handcart of lumber, and pushes himself to go as fast and hard as possible, so as to get to "the best part" of his day.
Once his wood harvesting is finished, Gavin's next task is part of his training as his father's apprentice - to track down and locate his pa. Godrick heads out into the woods right after breakfast each morning to check his traps for anything caught over night. Along the way, he will intentionally leave a few clues or markings for his son to try and track him. Almost approaching his tweens, Gavin has gotten rather adept at noticing the little details and can usually find his pa within an hour. This is good, as he is also bringing his pa his lunch.
After he and his father eat, the two go off, sometimes together, but in the last year more often separate, to track game. As much as he is tasked with helping to provide meat for the family business, Gavin is also expected to practice and study his woodscraft. It was while following tracks that he discovered the ruins outside town, which he now tries to escape to at least twice a week during his duties. This most often happens when he makes a good catch early in the afternoon, and thus has time left to go exploring.
Returning home, Gavin dines with his family and helps tidy up afterward. He then spends his evening learning his pa's skill at building and setting traps. During this time, Godrick will also question what he saw and learned during his hunting that day. On occasion, he is also tasked with making any last deliveries to the townsfolk in Sanctuary. At the end of the day, he plays with his little sister, whom he cares for very much.
Initially falling back on her Orcish occupation as a midwife, when she first arrived in the town, Gryusha has since embraced her new role and often sees many patients for various minor maladies throughout the day.
Her mornings include checking any overnight patients, blessing the morning meal for health & hardiness, and cleaning & sorting the living commons (housing 1-2 dozen field-working commoners), where she's established a small, free, informal medical office of sorts.
With a handful of townsfolk to assist her in the dormitories, Gryusha fills her days with house calls and follow up visits around the community, never intrusive, but generally present for urgent or recurrent health concerns, and at least semi regular check ups.
Gryushs closes her days similarly to how they're opened; a purified meal for her charges, light commune with the Dark Mother for strength in protecting the community, and brief visits to the drunken dragon to unwind, before it's back to business.
|Albion, The Eye|
So how does this one work at this point in time GM Wolf - I can see the other characters have evolved, and have already classes, etc?
Hegron has been indentured to the local monastery/church for many years - no one really knows where the young half-orc came from or why Father Albius took him in. Fact is, he almost single-handedly takes care of the church grounds - the orchard, the vegetable garden and the animals.
Waking up with the rising sun every day, it will be common to see him going about his chores after a spartan breakfast at the church´s kitchen - Alda the chaplain is a good friend, and has been ever since he remembers - she makes sure he is well fed - "You are a big boy, so you need to eat well - here have some bread, eggs, milk and fruit. couple it with some bacon and you have the perfect breakfast for a lad your size" - she jokes with him again about his strong build and frame. He smiles.
There is never shortage of hard labor, and that is how he prefers it - most people around the Sanctuary recognize him, but there are not many he would call friends. It really does not matter - he likes Alda and he likes the life he has here - Father Albius allows him access to the library, and takes him on long walks and conversations about the Gods, and about doing what is right vs choosing to do what is wrong. Hegron is not sure if that means anything to him, but he likes the stories.
He takes pride in his work, and reflexively smiles every time someone compliments the pristine state of the orchard, the lushness of the vegetables or the cleanliness of the grounds. The animals are well tended and fat, and the half-orc enjoys releasing them in the surrounding hills and just sitting there watching and looking over them in the cold breeze.
Very strong of limb and agile as few, he is the one tending to the church itself, and whatever repairs may be needed - the roof leaks often, and the walls are constantly in need of reinforcement. The interior sees a new paintjob every year, so it always looks fresh and clean.
He has also promised Father Albius to make sure the monastery itself, which is currently little more than a ruin, will one day be recovered. The old man simply laughs - "I believe you Hegron"
One day he will want to know more about his past and the tattoos that cover a significant part of his body ever since he was a small boy, but regardless he would give his life for Albius and Alda, and the only time he got himself in trouble was when some brigands tried to rob the alms box, and turned violent on those he considers his 'parents' - he pounced on them without a second thought, accepting the blows from their clubs, and returning it with violent punches. He ended badly blooded, but one of the assailants almost died - Hegron would probably be arrested if not for Alda's fiery intervention with the local constable.
I just went with it and wrote some lines about this guy - I am personally not sure how I see him in the future. He could turn out a monk, or a warpriest fighting evil with his fists. Or maybe none of it and just discover his racial heritage is to be a Bloodrager. Dunno but I guess open ended is cool? :D
“We come all the way here, days of travel…got chased down by them blasted bandits dressed like wolves…and all fer Nothin.” The firey-haired dwarf growled, slamming his fist down on the rickety wooden table. The two throwing hammers laying there rattled on the surface with the impact. Several patrons of the tavern looked up, but Ispen Ironblood was livid and didn’t care who knew it. Still, the drinking house was of the type that no one seemed interested for more than the moment’s disruption. Except, that is, for his brother.
“But how ‘were I to know that the merchant would DIE of old age before we could get here?” Tralor Ironblood practically whined. “It ain’t like I knew nuthin’ of his condition or anythin. How was I ta know he were dyin'?”
“That be exactly my point! We spend all that time getting’ here, after all that time o’ makin’ them hammers with Uncle Bahln…an’ fer what?? Fer Nuthin! The merchant be dead, Tralor…dead a'fore we even left Janderoff, I might add...an his Kin knew he were off his horse when he sent the order to us so they Ain’t payin…an’ now we are just plain stuck with a wagon-load of these stupid ...throwin’ hammers!” Again the dwarf’s fist met the wood, though this time fewer of the taverneers seemed to notice.
“Like I said…we kin sell ‘em at th’ market…”
“The Market? Here? Are ye daft?? Like it be possible ta sell anythin’ without the Guild’s permission and getting their cut? Bah. Throwing hammers.” Ispen reached across the table for his mug, upturned it to drink, then let out another “Bah!” when he found it near empty.
The brothers hadn’t been in town long, mere hours, but what they’d seen…or at least, what Ispen had seen, wasn’t too his liking. Granted, he was in a foul mood, and so, to his angry sight, the entire place was cccupied by simply some of the foulest, most treacherous people he’d ever seen, the angry dwarf couldn’t wait to get out of the place. It practically reeked of mercenary-schemes and evil thoughts. Granted, back home it was no bed of roses, but for the past 12 years it had been home. The brothers had worked with their uncle in his smithy making the usual assortment of necessities…horseshoes, wagon wheels, plow shears…but this had been their first venturing into actual weapon-making, and it seemed that it would all have been for naught.
“Well, I say that we should head out in the morning to the marketplace an’ try an sell all these…we might make a decent profit…or at least enough to pay our way back home…” continued Tralor defiantly, used to his younger brother’s outbursts.
“An’ I say yer a doorknob.” Ispen harumphed. He scowled, waving again for the tavern wench to refill his mug, and when he did, he caught sight of a tattered parchment posted to the wall. He arched a massive eyebrow and slowly stood, walking over to the ale stained wall, and squinted at the letters written there. “A drinkin’ contest, eh? Possible employment with a mercenary company? And this...explorin’ some of the borderlands ? Hmmm…Now THESE be interesting…Mayhaps we kin turn a profit in this after all. We'll just apply fer one of these notices.”
"Ispen. No. You know what Uncle Bahln says about 'venturin..."
"Uncle Bahln says alot o' stuff...and HE ain't here."
"Ispen...we can't..." Tralor practically whined.
"YOU can't. Fine...go to th' marketplace...sell yer hammers, Tralor...then go back home empty handed or rich, if'n ye can sell the blasted hardware. Me? I need me a change...I'm going huntin...maybe for a job with the local smithy..." With that, the firey-haired dwarf swept one of the hammers from the table and tucked it in his belt.
Ispen gave his brother a nod and paused to grasp his shoulder in a rare show of affection, then walked resolutely over to the bartender seeking more information about the contest.
"Ahh, Ispen..." Tralor sighed.
how exactly does this application work? more or less, here is Amelia, the halfling (hope to be) magus or arcane caster.
Amelia the halfling is a wanderer, ever since she was a wee tyke she had a sense of wonder and awe of the world. She would spend hours walking through what to most folk was a normal forest, but to her it was enchanted. She loved the way the shadows played with her eyes. How the ray of lights and wind made everything see alive. She loved the sound of running water, and how the light played on it's surface in a twinkling light show. As she grew older, at around 10 years old, she saw a traveling mage perform a small show of magic, and she instantly fell in love with magic. Not for what it could do, as many seem to practice it for, but for how it could look. Since, in her words,
"The beautiful cascade of colors, lights, signs and sparkles just makes you feel all giddy inside"
She instantly began pestering her parents about wanting to learn to do it herself. Despite her wanderlust, she was trapped at home, looking after her younger brother Brandt and helping her parents around the house.
She would always say,
"Don't get me wrong, I love 'em to death. They are family after all, an' so I love the time we spend together and I owe 'em everything so don't mind at all helpin' round the place. But I've always wanted to see more of the world. There are so many wondrous sights left to see... maybe even new ones left to discover! It was her pure innocence and perseverance that lead to her parents, despite being rather poor varisians, saving up enough to buy her a tome from an old wizard in town for her 15th birthday. This lead to the wizard, Vinnick, by name to inquire as to why a farmer would seek to purchase it. When he explained about his daughter, Vinnick offered to teach her a bit, free of charge, and maybe take her as an apprentice if she had an aptitude for it. Truth be told, Vinnick only wanted to see So started Amelia's apprenticeship to a mildly cranky old mage. Amelia would spend the next 3 years of her life learning magic inbetween chores, both at home and for Vinnick. She even started to earn gold on the side by doing little shows at the local in. Enhancing her singing and dancing she learned from her mother with minor illusions. When she turned 18, she had saved up enough money to travel, and since her younger brother and sister had gotten old enough to help around her families home she was free to do so. She spent most of her time (and money) sampling different cultures fair in cuisine, music and magic.
if I were to pick a NPC class, it would likely be expert.
I will be PMing each of you to understand the happenings. Be on the look out for them! At this point expect you all to be accepted and coming in together.
Hegron sounds fun! Go ahead and make him a 3rd level of the class you choose.
Ispen Ironblood is acceptable but you should make him 3rd level...
Amelia should be an arcane caster, 3rd level that is.