Wraith's CharactersName: Har
Race: Erinyes (Devil)
Height: 5’ 10”
Weight: 142 lbs
Age: Several Centuries
Hair: Dark Red
Har, like most of his kind, spent the majority of his life in the Hells, along with the occasional trip to the mortal world to scavenge for souls and collect/renew various bargains. Also like most other devils, he put his considerable talents to use in the endless power struggle of the lower planes, doing his best to claw his way up the pecking order. Over the past few hundred years he managed to dig out a fairly respectable niche for himself in his personal social circle. It unfortunately came crashing down when a failed coup scattered his allies and left him out of favor with several other beings of power. Rather than face death or a couple of decades of torture Har slipped away in the bloody aftermath and made his way to the mortal realms, where he hopes to begin anew. He believes (probably incorrectly) that humans will be easier to deal with and conquer than his fellow devils.
The erinyes is slightly shorter and lighter than average but still has the overall appearance of a Greek god. His marble-pale skin is sharply contrasted by his dark red hair, which matches the color of his feathered wings. He wears a pair of black pants but no shirt, as he’s discovered that clothing on his torso of any kind tends to catch in his wings at the worst possible time. When not actively doing anything Har usually leans on his bow, a weapon almost as tall as he is that constantly smokes slightly. Unless he’s angry the devil has either a bored expression or a twisted, devious grin. His only other weapons besides his bow are a sword on one side of his belt and a long, coiled rope on the other.
- An iron ring with a series of yellow gemstones that protects against cold; a gift from Iris Mor'Illorum.
- A bronze amulet set with a garnet, enchanted to constantly warm the wearer; also courtesy of the Monster Queen.
- An undecorated, plain ring, given to Har by Aesa the chaos goddess. It allows her to scry on him. Although he doesn't know its purpose, he does suspect, and plans on disposing of it as soon as possible. Currently hidden on a rooftop in Town.
Image courtesy of nightwing. Thanks again.
Height: 5’ 11”
Suth was born into a fairly wealthy family and sent to school at an early age, where he demonstrated an aptitude for two things: music and magic. He studied both for several years until he left his tutors and set out to make his way in the world (or, rather, planes). So far his life has otherwise been mostly mundane, as he’s yet to find himself in any great adventures or dangerous plots. This will hopefully change, if for no other reason than the raven on his shoulder, which seems to invite trouble wherever it goes.
The young human is of medium height and build and usually wears a set of thin, chain armor under a light shirt and pants with a blue overcoat. He is almost always smiling, ready to see something new, and normally bounces slightly with energy and anticipation. He doesn’t carry any visible weapons, and his only real item of worth is the magical bracelet around his right wrist, which is decorated with several small charms in the shape of musical instruments.
This bizarre bird accompanies Suth wherever he goes. He speaks a variety of languages (more than Suth does, in fact, but he makes a terrible translator), which is technically his only redeeming quality. Other than that he’s a heavy smoker, alcoholic, compulsive gambler (be warned: he cheats), and kleptomaniac, which are topped off by his other qualities, namely rudeness, outspokenness, and general disregard for law and authority. Suth can normally manage to keep him in line, but it takes some effort. Most people wonder what the musician sees in the troublesome raven.
Reevenrom appears to be about twice his age, characterized by ruffled feathers that are more of a deep, dirty gray color than actual black, small, beady eyes, and a scarred beak, which normally clutches a half-burnt cigar. He loves to drink, smoke, play cards, and flirt with women of completely incompatible species. Most other birds have the good sense to avoid him, and there are currently 63 bars, taverns, and hotels in the planes that Suth has visited in which the raven is no longer allowed.
"Isn't Sanity really a one-trick pony, anyway? I mean, all you get is one trick, rational thinking! But when you're good and crazy...ooh hoo hoo hoo...the sky's the limit!"
Name: Trapmaster the Mad
Occupation: Trap Crafter
Weight: 138 lbs.
Eyes: Dark Brown
Hair: Dark Brown
Trapmaster, or Trap to his friends (if he should ever make any) lives up to his name. Not only is he an expert trap crafter, but the dwarf is also completely insane. He’s rather proud of this fact and occasionally brags about it. After all; it would take a madman to come up with some of the bizarre and ingenious mechanisms he’s made. The craftsman has worked for a variety of wizards and tomb builders, and comes from a long line of similarly occupied dwarves. When adventurers meet their end deep in a forgotten dungeon due to some ridiculously complicated and painful trap, it is often thanks to Trapmaster or one of his relatives.
At first, it may be hard to tell that Trap is a dwarf at all. His face is mostly obscured by a thick pair of goggles and a bulky rag tied over the lower half of his face. While he does have the traditional dwarven beard, it’s tucked down into his dirty tunic, which is in turn covered by a suit of armor made from the hides and pelts of several different animals. The rest of Trap’s body is littered with a variety of pouches and containers that seem to be strapped to every available bit of flesh, the largest of which is an enormous pack that gives him a hunchbacked appearance. What little skin is visible is unwashed and laced with dirt, grime, and oil.
Equipment: Trapmaster always carries the tools of his trade with him, and as such is able to fashion a variety of simple traps at any time. He requires more materials for larger projects, but at any given point he can be counted on to have some metal, enough poisons to murder a small village, multiple sharp, pointed objects, springs, mechanisms, cranks, ropes, pulleys, at least one crossbow, and a few wands. Although the dwarf cannot actually cast spells himself, he is capable of making some magical items, especially (you guessed it) traps, and using scrolls and wands with only a small chance of failure. Possibly his most useful item is his specially enchanted gloves, which protect his hands from fire, acid, cold, electricity, negative energy, and attacks on his life force and abilities, as well as being thick and durable enough to keep from being easily punctured. This does not extend to the rest of his body, meaning that he is not really protected from attacks, but he is able to pick up and handle virtually anything short of a harmful artifact.
"But, more importantly, old castles have the best kinds of treasure...the free kind, and the kind that becomes free after some violence."
Name: Mathom Ymris
Occupation: Treasure Hunter/Former Pirate
Height: 5’ 6”
Mathom is, almost without exception, the exact opposite of what most people imagine surface elves as. Arrogant, vain, rash, mildly evil, greedy, egotistical, and brutal in combat, the warrior spends his days acquiring small fortunes and spending them just as quickly. His gambling habit doesn’t help, and neither does his frequent alcohol and occasional drug use. Despite this, the elf is rather easy to get along with so long as he isn’t paired up with someone who has an ego as large as his own. He can even be charming when the need arises, up until the point where he usually stabs the person in the back and loots their castle.
About as tall as the average elf, and a bit bulkier from running around with armor and weapons, Mathom is thin with lean muscle, usually dressed in various shades of red and black (his favorite colors), with his longish hair tied back in a silver band. He’s moderately attractive overall, and has a set of red tattoos on his cheeks: one curving line follows down from his hairline and along his cheekbones, with another, longer spike of red twisting beneath each of those. A pair of weapons sits at his belt, adding to his anti-elfness: a handaxe and a flail. Normally, his left hand wears an unusual gauntlet made of gold colored plates and clockwork gears, shifting and moving with his hand. There’s also a pistol stuck through the front of his belt, but it doesn’t see much use; Mathom prefers up close, melee work.
The Clockwork Prince: the gauntlet that Mathom wears is probably his most prized possession. It was crafted by a gnome who saw it more as art than a tool of war, and named it as such. Actually an entire suit of magical armor, the gauntlet can expand, spitting out gears and plates to effectively cover its wearer entirely in metal when given the mental command. While not uncommonly useful at stopping attacks, each piece in the suit knows where it belongs and can repair itself quickly when damaged. For some reason it also does a better job at preventing mental assaults and magical transformations, among other odd spells, than it does at stopping basic energy attacks.
Indreju: Mathom’s handaxe is crafted from a wooden handle, made from part of the mast of the West Wind, the pirate ship he served on, and a mithril head. The head is laced with simple grooves and has a trio of slightly curving spikes on the back. At the bottom of the handle is a small charm, the symbol of the Goddess Fortuna: a six sided die with a crescent moon.
Kvalnir: Mathom’s flail is made much like Indreju, with a handle from the mast of the West Wind and a mithril chain and spiked head. Also like the handaxe, a few decorative grooves twist over the metal, and a gold coin occupies the same spot as the Fortuna symbol, at the bottom of the handle.
The Red Dragon: this weapon, the pistol, sees the least use from Mathom. Oddly, it is more decorated than either of his others, with small gems forming weaving lines from the bottom of the grip up to the end of the barrel, which is shaped like the open mouth of a roaring dragon. The gun previously belonged to the captain of the West Wind before Mathom took it from his corpse.