Pc's

[tarlyn]

Post here a description and pic of your pc's

[Death By Pumpkyn]

Quick sketch I whipped up of Niyef, Hazlani outcast turned Avenger/ bounty hunter. Haven't fully hashed out her backstory yet, but she was made exile at age sixteen when her noble house was eliminated in some sort of conspiracy. She is now age 19 and predominantly hunts out of Richemulot. She has obviously abandoned many Mulan customs (letting her hair grow out) and taken to martial mastery. She specializes in non-lethal methods of combat when an option, favoring the whip to disarm her opponents.
More soon to follow...as I make it up

[ail]

Hi,

after much searching, I think my chaacter looks somewhat like this. Perhaps with an overcoat, but always sombre colours.

[Death By Pumpkyn]

I posted some of this in the PC thread, but I will now expand upon it:

Niyaf El-Hashem
Hazlani of the Mulan social caste.
Human; Female
Avenger

Physical Description:
Tall athletic build. Handsome features. Long wavy blonde hair. Hazel eyes. 19 years of age. Her face still bares the geometric tattoos of her class, though she has let her hair grow out following her exile.
Wears a hooded cloak over splint mail and a simple set of traveling attire. Predominantly dresses in bronze, russets and other earth tones. She wields a number of non-lethal weapons which aid her as a bounty collector. When the situation calls for it, she also carries beautifully crafted horse-mans mace.

History:
For those not familiar with Ravenloft, Hazlan is a land far to the south eastern core. It is known for being exotic in its culture and environment. The people of Hazlan consists primarily of two ethnicities; The Mulan and the Rashemani. The elite few belong to the Mulan caste, roughly 1%, the aristocratic movers and shakers. The Mulan are predominantly recognizable for their shaved heads and the elaborately decorative tattoos that adorn them. The Mulan are also keepers of the Rashemani, for all intents and purposes, the servant class. The Rashemani are more known for being squat, muscular and darker of complexion as is with those born to a life of hard labor and servitude. The Rashemani are very poor and also comprise roughly the remaining 99% of the populace.

Niyaf El-Hashem was born the last in a line of mixed siblings of a modestly influential house in the city of Toyalis. House El-Hashem was known for producing bureaucrats, lawmakers and other such political types. They were also rumored to be in bed with many questionable less reputable houses. During Niyaf's upbringing, seeing her father, uncles and brothers bare the brunt of political mudslinging was not uncommon. Niyaf never went anywhere without a small group of her father's Rashemani house guards. It is among them that she became curious about martial weaponry.
By the time Niyaf had reached sixteen years of age, her father had been deeply involved in a campaign to elevate the patriarch of a friendly house to governorship in the understanding that an arranged marriage between the oldest El-Hashem daughter and the politicians eldest son and heir would follow, thus elevating House El-Hashem.
What began to boil over began as a campaign of slander against house El-Hashem and would end in tragedy. Some would be surprised that the house of the soon to be governor remained untarnished by the rumors, which led some to believe they were involved in what would come to be known as "slaughter's moon", The night the El-Hashem family was, almost to a man, wiped out.
Not unlike tar rolling over the lip of a bucket, a small party of armed men seemed to seep over the walls of the El-Hashem estate under a reddened moon hunched low over the black horizon. The single largest assassination in the history of Toyalis had begun.
Niyaf awoke, slung in the arms of one of her father's Rashemani guardsmen. He was running down the halls of the darkened estate, leaping to and fro seemingly without purpose, almost slipping in unseen hazards at their feet. The air was oppressive with the heavy smell of life pouring over marble. The man, whom to this day Niyef cannot recall his name or even his face, had breached the outer wall with the young woman in arms, seemingly without incident or encounter. Upon their escape Niyef had spotted up ahead a horse tethered to a post. Waiting for them. The man placed Niyef upon the saddle and unceremoniously sent her on her way North, into the backwater of Barovia.
The next two years were a blur of constant struggle, and learning a skill set the now full grown woman could never have imagined. Bounty collecting. Niyef had grown up in a house full of men well versed in the creating and defending of law. She had also seen true chaos first hand. Given her fascination with arms and armor Niyef soon began to train in their use and application and after a lot of hard work and training, she was beginning to make a name for herself in the Imol city watch. After a year in the watch she decided to try her hand at capturing local bandits. The pay was better and the work was substantially more interesting, and come to find, she was good at it. She began to take notice that pursuing and capturing criminals was, sort of, touching a void deep within her. The sensation was almost like running a set of cold fingernails across the pain of her personal tragedy. She began to work harder in order to grasp the sensation, but the more cut-purses, thieves, and bandits she brought to justice, the duller the sensation would get. It was fading away. And then it did.
Until one fateful bounty found itself in her hands. One man. Wanted for the brutal murder of a small family of gypsy and the arson of their property. Wanted alive to face the justice of the lord of Barovia.
The feeling came back.
It was in the following pursuit that she would come to the realization of what she would become. Everything up until that final moment when justice would be brought back to the city of Toyalis was in preparation for what needed to be done. She was to be an Avenger.
Her pursuit led her across the core and into the sleepy land of Mordent, and the city of Mordentshire. Her trail seemingly at an end, she has stopped to assess where her quarry could be hiding. Perhaps he had friends in the city? Or he may have caught a ship on it's way out into the black waters of the sea of sorrows? She was bound by purpose to seek justice.

[RobJN]

Melora, more or less:

[Yaztromo]

Tromo is a young man with long black hair.
His clothes are humble and worn by constant travel. If he's wearing weapon and armour, they must be well concealed by his long garments.
He's one of the men called "wanderers", moving all the time from place to place, usually alone, often seen with suspicion as thieves and smugglers.
Sometimes he likes to stop near settlements and play musical instruments for himself and the passer by.