Lorik the Gilded's page

So, this is my bard! Statistics, ten minute background and a full background are all on his profile, so please take a moment to glance him over for your consideration!

As far as plans and fitting in to the group; I went young with the character because I view him as a budding activist. He's pretty idealistic and genuinely wants good things for all people. One of the ways to do that is to make changes to society as a whole, not just kill monsters. I went bard with high charisma because I view him as being the one to bring together disparate groups. Dwarves might not get along with elves, but Lorik wants to get them to work together for the greater good. As far as he fits in to the party, he's definitely geared towards being a face and ranged/support casting. Lorik wants his name to be remembered as a great storyteller, and one of the best ways to get a good story is to be a part of one. A good way to start is by being someone that brings about change.

The sun was bright and the river was clear. A cool breeze stirred, cutting through the warmth of the day. Lorik, resplendent in a dark velvet vest with silver brocade, took a moment to admire the sunlight glittering on the waves of the Yolubilis. After a moment, he continued on his way. His path today took him through the harbor to Clenchjaw's. Lorik had spent many nights in the tavern, both as a child and, more recently, as someone that thought himself far more tolerant of alcohol than he actually was. Lorik shuddered, recalling a half-remembered night a week ago that had led to illness and cursing the gods the next day.

It was early afternoon, and when Lorik pressed open the wooden door, only Caleb, the Dwarven bartender, was present. Caleb busied himself polishing glasses, looked up, recognized Lorik, sighed, then returned to his work. Lorik moved to a stool at the bar, sat, and nodded. Caleb didn't bother saying anything, merely poured a Grand Arch Lager. Lorik had acquired the taste for this particular brew back in Magnimar, and though these days he mostly preferred drinks with a bit more complexity, the beer was simple, cold, refreshing and nostalgic.
"I wish you hadn't come, Lorik," Caleb said simply. Unlike many Dwarves, Caleb's speech wasn't accented. He had been born in Kintargo, growing up in a diverse community.
"I know," Lorik responded, "but be realistic, Cal. You've known me since I didn't even stand as tall as your knee. You know I need to be a part of this."

Caleb had smiled at Lorik's use of the familiar nickname, but the smile faded shortly.
"You're right. I still wish you'd never caught wind of this. It's not safe, son."
Lorik merely nodded and shrugged. They'd had this conversation before, many times. It had taken a full month before Caleb had finally caved. The Dwarf sighed once more before pulling out a rolled up piece of parchment out and handing it to Lorik.
"The Cat's Casque. Nine PM. Your contact has been given a description of your appearance. If he doesn't show up, something has happened. Don't go looking for him. Don't come back here. Just go about your night and act like nothing happened. Understand?"
Lorik nodded, thanking Caleb, then finished his drink before departing. He carefully tucked the parchment into his pouch.

Lorik didn't need to look at the parchment to know what it contained. It was a simple, large drawing, of a set of manacles, shattered. The symbol that would let the members of the Bellflower Network know that Lorik was a friend. Lorik grinned, so excited he almost broke into a run. This was the start of something big. Finally, he wouldn't be just a voice railing against injustice. He would actually do something about it.

It would make for a damn fine story.