Herofactory's Blog

The plains thundered with a sounds of a thousand feet. The ork tribes of what will be known as Blackmoor thundered across the green grasslands and clashed together in a thunderous battle that lasted for days….

Bodies lay broken and blood saturates the ground in time for the first snows of winter. The land, colored by darkening crimson, became known as the Blackmoor of Icewind Dale…

Davion stood at the base of the ravine. Derranis, Ash, Metar and Franz were behind him, slowly setting up a camp for the evening.

“We are not alone, there comesssssssomething of the Queen.” the Shadow whispered to him.

“Let is come, if it is of the Queen’s Realm, then we’ll severe the connection and send the tormented soul back to the ‘Fell, where it belongs.”

The Shadow flickered, dissapearing from his shoulder and reappearing hovering just in front of him. Davion didn’t flinch, the Shadow was always with him. It was a cold, twisted friend. A gift from the Raven Queen. An undeniable reminder of his slavery in the Shadowfell, and both a guide and tormentor.

“You’ve ussssssssed much energy today. Perhapsssssss the Queen callsssss for you…” the Shadow’s sibilant syllables sliced through Davions mind as they always did. Thunderous shouts and barely heard whispers that he could not deny. No matter the chaos of the battlefield around him, or the roaring of ice cold waterfalls, the words of the Shadows were always heard.

If only the others could see these curses.

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The dust settled in the large cavern as the last of the brutish orks fell to the heroic adventurers.

“Time to get some gold!” bellowed Hursk, a dwarven cleric.

Attol, the human warrior, smiled – gold had been very scarce of late and he was tired of picking at silver pieces and counting every copper.

But alas, the only thing that glittered and shone in the dim lit caverns of the Bloodgouge clan was but a single, iron box. About ten feet in length and three feet wide and high. The box was intricately designed and etchs all over itse surface spelt magic – even to the human.

“Aghh…. This thing is ensorceled” Hursk bellowed once more after a quick prayer to his god, revealling a dim magic coming from within.

“hmmm”, he pondered, stroking his beard “The magic I see is coming from
within?”

Attol shook his head…. “I see no seems… no hinges even.. how are we to get within this thing, and where is all the bloody gold!”

“As for the gold I do not know. These orks were said to be the wealthiest and most powerful…”

“Perhaps we can lift it somehow. Like it is a cover to something else?” Attol suggested.

“Agreed, but give me one moment” Hursk called on the power of his god once more, and through his faith, he empowered Attols imense strength with that of twenty men!

Together they grabbed a side and on bended knee lifted with all their might, and true as Attol had said, the “cover” lifted and they pushed it aside.

Hursk bellowed a curse as the two of them looked within the now open casket.

There, lay pecefully on a bed of violet silk, a beautiful, naked, young human girl. Her soft red hair hanging loosly at over her shoulders and nestled between her milkwhite breasts a single black and white stone – the source of the magic.

Attol quietly closed his mouth… “What would orks be doing with this?”

Hursk shrugged, saying a soft prayer for the dead as he reached out for the stone and pulled at it, his eyes widening in horror as he realised this was the pomel of a dagger that had been thrust into the girls chest and he had pulled it out completely – and with out an ounce of blood spilling or staining its blade.

The girl screamed…
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The man from the far eastern shores of the realm moved with the grace like none she had ever seen. The chain span about him silently in the still air of the mansion’s main hall.

Many guests had gathered this night to honor her father’s birthday, and the man was none other than the bodyguard of Count Tristan Marlow, a rather eccentric, middle aged man, with some family ties to the Rumlesteins…

She never took notice, just watched. DulGa, the man, was physically power, with toned muscles like a jungle cat. The chain shot out, slicing a large block of wood in two with a thunderous smash, startling everyone.

She was amazed…

That night she stole through the mansion as she had done since she could walk. Shifting down corridor and passage, stairs and floor until she came to the guest wing. It didn’t take her long, for Saer’yyn knew of all the secrets the place had to offer.

Quietly she opened the oaken door to Dulga’s room. It creaked just a bit, moon light from the open window touched her pale skin and white silk sleep shirt.

He was asleep. His master room just a door away. Softly she crept into the room, the chain hanging on the chest just below the window, shone like a silvery serpent in the light of the full moon.

She took it in both hands, marveling at the thought of twirling it about in battle. The surprise of her enemies as she reached out to them with one end when they thought she could not. She smiled to herself, lost in the dream.

The smile suddenly turned to fear as a cold steel blade rested on her neck, cutting ever so slightly as Dulga’s strong arm came about her waist, his body hot against hers…

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Torion, Master Agent of Sinval

A dark skinned man wrapped in a thick purple hooded robe embroidered with gold design looks at you with a mixture of fury and wrath. His heavily ringed fingers draws a wickedly cut bastard sword and his eyes begin to glow with furious power!

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My name is Jebb, and C has given me the opportunity to vomit out my mind barf here as well when it comes to characters. The majority of my characters will be for the Dungeons and Dragon 3.5 Edition of the game, but I will also contribute characters applicable to Pathfinder, other fantasy based roleplaying games as well as Shadowrun, Rifts and science-fiction / science-fantasy games. You can read my blathering on life here, or follow my nearly never updated roleplaying game world site here.

Jebb.

Nothing was special about my birth. At least I didnt think so. I was a normal young girl living in a town in the shadow of th Dragon Spine Mountains.

The only real diffrence about me was that I had everything. Literally everything. Anything I wanted I was given. And this was all for a reason.

I had play things, I had the finest clothes, I had the grandest books and best tutors. I learnt much of the world in such a short time. But I was raised for only one purpose.

I was to be the saviour of our town… of our world.

I was to be given to the guardian upon my 16th birthday. As my mother was and my mothers mother. I came from a long line of chosen and I accepted my destiny and my fate.

Years went by quickly, and everything was blissful and peaceful in the town. Upon reaching my thriteenth year, when the town’s healer announced I was ready for a child, I began to attract many sutors. Before I was fourteen, I would choose one, and in that year or the next at the very latest, I would have a daughter of my own. A daughter to carry on the line of Chosen, the saviours of our world.

None of the boys seemed to draw my attention however, and none of their gifts mattered seen I had everything anyway. I was soon fourteen and the elders grew restless. ‘If you do not choose a sutor in two seasons, we will choose for you’ I could not argue. This was law.

So again, I studied the boys and men in town. And one day, on the eve of winters night, a stranget came through town. He was wounded and tired after what he called a ‘long journey’ His horse was almost dead, with great claw marks down its sides, and true enough, it died not a day later.

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The whole idea for this blog was a simple one – I dont have enough time in my life to play all the roleplaying characters I come up with, so i thought about just posting the concepts here

anyone is free to use the characters in their games and post comments on what happens to them….

cheers
C