If accepted, it’s notable I made some tweaks to the aesthetics of the character to make them more regionally appropriate for Rashemen, and while worship of Kelemvor isn’t the norm there, the idea that she’s more of an oddity still works, I think, for the Serwa Omen character.
Name: Ilvisar Lufiel Race: High Elf Class: Rogue Alignment: Lawful Neutral Background: Criminal Faith: *Just bitter, bitter-laughter* Personality Traits: I am incredibly slow to trust. I am always calm, no matter what the situation. I never raise my voice or let my emotions control me. Ideals: People. I’m loyal to my friends, not to any ideals, and everyone else can take a trip down the Styx for all I care. (Neutral) Bonds: Something important was taken from me, and I aim to steal it back. Flaws: My general disdain is the heart I wear upon my little elvish sleeve.
https://www.dndbeyond.com/profile/DarbysGhost/characters/27241546 Backstory: You could say I was held accountable for the same crime, twice. The first, I was guilty of stealing arcane secrets from my mentor. He, though a great being unto itself, was too full of himself to appreciate me more than he had. I had an idea to knock him down a few gilded steps...but I didn't know about his Faithful Hound. When they caught up with me, I was missing a goodly-portion of my trousers, and had a arm full of scrolls well-above my ability. Where I tried to hurt him the most, I only ended up hurting myself...ten-fold. As I said...he was an accomplished creature; an advanced mage, well beyond my scope and ability. In hindsight, it did seem too perfect, the way he would always slop his tea about...too deliberate. In the stasis-spell that he opted to trap me within, I had ample time to contemplate the "error of my ways". He thought the key to my release, an art-form unto itself....("When anyone outside the Sun Elves calls for your release...it shall be so.")...but that was where he proved a fool as well. Five decades, I served as a glorified chandelier, in my former-master's study....five decades, I watched that bastard read book, after book, after book....until the time in which the Red Wizards of Thay fell upon our fair city. (A city I assume no longer exists. I could not find anything in the wiki) I admit to be as surprised as any of my kin that those barbarians could batter down the sturdy, but eloquent doors....or storm the equally-enchanted stairs....but lo....and there they were. Exclaiming over my master's death, in that brief and bloody struggle. Afterwards...I welcomed my release. "A fine specimen there, Raulk!" cried one of the Slavers, pointing a riding crop in my direction. "I wish he wasn't so secured up there! I might keep him as my own." Inwardly, I winced. Outwardly, the spell broke, and I plummeted nearly ten meters, before I struck the pavement. (And neatly broke my ankle, the little bastards.) My next prison-sentence came in the form of slavery. I was a novelty, you see? By my release, some other mishaps had befallen our city, and very few of us survived the onslaught. I would be jostled, and prodded, and beaten, and berated....over and over again....for the next decade; as I was sold, and traded, and gifted. My pride was the only thing that kept my soul afire; something the Thay sought to quash to a mere ember; and they were largely successful at that...over the following forty years. From barely into my own adulthood, and it would be another hundred years before I would breath free air again. In the time that followed, I would rub elbows with scum, share meals with lowly human-beings....as well as watch my heritage be raped into half-elves, and lesser beings. (Or perhaps I have that backwards....no matter.) I would already be considered a relic among the shorter-lived races, when I was sold for the last time. An accomplished and well-spoken slave by this point, I had been given to some mad creature, who did dark and terrible experiments. Down low, and beneath many layers of stone and brick...my fellows and I were subjected to some of the most unsightly explorations of mutation I ....cannot even speak of...nor hardly remember now. (My mind has blocked out the anguish, and just turned it now, into a dull throbbing.) Where once, my hair was as a raven-beauty; gifted to me by my parents....now it shown alabaster in the dark. Something horrid thrummed between my thoughts...with every beat of my heart, I could feel the demons they'd injected through me. My head aches with migraines. I can no longer enjoy the light of my namesake. If it were not for "Player-Character-X", I would have been bound for yet another dark, dank, and horrid reality. There are few creatures I could trust...and fewer that I would call "friend"...but I am genuinely glad for that day...when they stopped the caravan...and set me....and we.....all of us....to freedom.
Thanks! Fingers crossed. :)
If accepted, it’s notable I made some tweaks to the aesthetics of the character to make them more regionally appropriate for Rashemen, and while worship of Kelemvor isn’t the norm there, the idea that she’s more of an oddity still works, I think, for the Serwa Omen character.
Name: Ilvisar Lufiel
Race: High Elf
Class: Rogue
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Background: Criminal
Faith: *Just bitter, bitter-laughter*
Personality Traits: I am incredibly slow to trust. I am always calm, no matter what the situation. I never raise my voice or let my emotions control me.
Ideals: People. I’m loyal to my friends, not to any ideals, and everyone else can take a trip down the Styx for all I care. (Neutral)
Bonds: Something important was taken from me, and I aim to steal it back.
Flaws: My general disdain is the heart I wear upon my little elvish sleeve.
https://www.dndbeyond.com/profile/DarbysGhost/characters/27241546
Backstory: You could say I was held accountable for the same crime, twice. The first, I was guilty of stealing arcane secrets from my mentor. He, though a great being unto itself, was too full of himself to appreciate me more than he had. I had an idea to knock him down a few gilded steps...but I didn't know about his Faithful Hound. When they caught up with me, I was missing a goodly-portion of my trousers, and had a arm full of scrolls well-above my ability. Where I tried to hurt him the most, I only ended up hurting myself...ten-fold. As I said...he was an accomplished creature; an advanced mage, well beyond my scope and ability. In hindsight, it did seem too perfect, the way he would always slop his tea about...too deliberate. In the stasis-spell that he opted to trap me within, I had ample time to contemplate the "error of my ways". He thought the key to my release, an art-form unto itself....("When anyone outside the Sun Elves calls for your release...it shall be so.")...but that was where he proved a fool as well. Five decades, I served as a glorified chandelier, in my former-master's study....five decades, I watched that bastard read book, after book, after book....until the time in which the Red Wizards of Thay fell upon our fair city. (A city I assume no longer exists. I could not find anything in the wiki) I admit to be as surprised as any of my kin that those barbarians could batter down the sturdy, but eloquent doors....or storm the equally-enchanted stairs....but lo....and there they were. Exclaiming over my master's death, in that brief and bloody struggle. Afterwards...I welcomed my release. "A fine specimen there, Raulk!" cried one of the Slavers, pointing a riding crop in my direction. "I wish he wasn't so secured up there! I might keep him as my own." Inwardly, I winced. Outwardly, the spell broke, and I plummeted nearly ten meters, before I struck the pavement. (And neatly broke my ankle, the little bastards.) My next prison-sentence came in the form of slavery. I was a novelty, you see? By my release, some other mishaps had befallen our city, and very few of us survived the onslaught. I would be jostled, and prodded, and beaten, and berated....over and over again....for the next decade; as I was sold, and traded, and gifted. My pride was the only thing that kept my soul afire; something the Thay sought to quash to a mere ember; and they were largely successful at that...over the following forty years. From barely into my own adulthood, and it would be another hundred years before I would breath free air again. In the time that followed, I would rub elbows with scum, share meals with lowly human-beings....as well as watch my heritage be raped into half-elves, and lesser beings. (Or perhaps I have that backwards....no matter.) I would already be considered a relic among the shorter-lived races, when I was sold for the last time. An accomplished and well-spoken slave by this point, I had been given to some mad creature, who did dark and terrible experiments. Down low, and beneath many layers of stone and brick...my fellows and I were subjected to some of the most unsightly explorations of mutation I ....cannot even speak of...nor hardly remember now. (My mind has blocked out the anguish, and just turned it now, into a dull throbbing.) Where once, my hair was as a raven-beauty; gifted to me by my parents....now it shown alabaster in the dark. Something horrid thrummed between my thoughts...with every beat of my heart, I could feel the demons they'd injected through me. My head aches with migraines. I can no longer enjoy the light of my namesake. If it were not for "Player-Character-X", I would have been bound for yet another dark, dank, and horrid reality. There are few creatures I could trust...and fewer that I would call "friend"...but I am genuinely glad for that day...when they stopped the caravan...and set me....and we.....all of us....to freedom.
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....I guess I took too long. M'kay. Lesson learned for next time.
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That meant you. :)
Art Portfolio
:O
<3
Even if I still don't make the cut? Thank you. *bows muchly*
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