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Topics - Johan

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Game Log / Session 29 - All along the Watch Tower
« on: June 08, 2009, 08:26:11 AM »
Play date: unknown

Sir Whitestrake: Hemo
Loopy: Mac

Whitestrake and Loopy are requested to revisit the camp that was discovered north of the Keep (see Session 28a). They investigate. It is clear which direction the inhabitants of the camp came from, and which direction they went in.

The duo decide to investigate the direction they went in. Less than a day's journey, the terrain rises and the trees thin out. Up ahead, at the top of this rising, they spot a small camp of humanoid critters (short and stout, and very ugly goblins).

A fight ensues. It is a hard-won melee (won by Whitestrake and Loopy, employing well-placed entangle spells and challenges).

Investigating the camp of the goblins, the companions find a crude watch tower erected. From on top of that watch tower, they can see the Keep. It seems an ideal viewing spot to keep tabs on the goings-ons of the Keep.

No real loot on these goblins, although one of them has a tunic that's missing a button, and the other buttons look similar to the ones that Tavish found during session 28a.

Return to Keep.

In Character Discussions / A Scout's Report
« on: January 13, 2009, 07:19:58 PM »
Upon her return to the Keep, Tavish found it easy to locate Cannotaine to give her report. The Master of Scouts was busy conveying orders to Jorj, another of the Keep's young scouts - this one was a large half orc who Tavish thought must have been born in the depths of the forest.

"Report back to me within the week." Cannotaine was finishing.

Jorj grunted his understanding and wordlessly strode off towards the gate.

Cannotaine's eye fell upon the young half elf lass and he smiled slightly. "Welcome back, Tavish." He said. "You have anything to tell me?" Of course she did; and she knew that he was fully aware that she did. This was just his way of giving her the floor.

In Character Discussions / 01.02.2133 - Temmit Wakes To The Game
« on: November 19, 2008, 01:33:19 PM »
The thunder of the battle wagons was an unwelcome herald for Temmit. He hoped that he would not be participating in these games. He really wasn't the sort of warrior that one would want on the front line. The battle trainers had observed countless times that he was a bit clumsy in the din of battle, and his ability with a sword was sub-par.

Also, his 16th birthday was closing in...less than a fortnight away. It'd be a shame to miss that.

"You're time is going to come sooner or later." Smokey told him. "They looked past you three times now. The law of averages isn't on your side for today."

Temmit knew that his constant companion was right...statistically he'd be called this time. If he wasn't, then someone was preventing his call. He would have to try to find that person and thank him or her.

He forced himself to get out of bed and start the day's dregery. His stomach didn't feel like it could hold much more than toast and coffee today.

He went through his typical morning routine, with one addition: Temmit steeled himself for roll call.

In Character Discussions / 12.27.2132 - Making Other People's Decisions
« on: November 16, 2008, 03:26:57 PM »
Temmit was tired to the point of exhaustion, but he was determined, and recently caffeinated. Smokey was a silent observer.

He hauled Damien out from his bedroom and as quickly as possible to the kitchen. There he set his jaw, and brought to mind the violation that Damien had visited upon Leslie.

He had no moral issue with what he had decided to do, and the darker part of his mind - the one that concerned itself with vengeance and the more malicious side of justice, entertained the notion of waking the bastard up, so that he would know what was about to happen.

But there was no logic in that. It was a notion born of emotion…anger, to be specific. And this doing he had convinced himself to be of value from a logical perspective; that part of him that he valued the most.

Temmit removed those clothes that covered his torso, and he donned a dirty apron that hung in the kitchen to protect himself as much as possible from the impending spatter of blood. He positioned Damien near the trash shaft and put a number of thick cloths under him. It was in so doing that Temmit noted the string that encircled Damien’s neck.

Temmit pulled the string, and it was immediately clear that there was something attached to it beneath Damien’s shirt. Something that seemed pretty intent on staying below Damien’s shirt. Temmit worked at it, his curiosity aroused. Whatever was attached to the string was metal, flat, and round. After a few more moments, the pendant sprang loose from Damien’s shirt, revealing a medal that had an embossed spire in the middle. To the right of the spire was a field that depicted the night sky, a full moon and stars along side, and a prominent open eye in the near field. To the left of the spire was depicted a day sky, with the sun and sparse clouds in the far field, and a closed eye in the near field.

Temmit stopped short. His jaw hanged flaccid, his breathing stopped, and his heart raced.

“A Shield.” Smokey whispered…it was clear that the crystal was as stunned as Temmit was.

“Yeah.” Temmit said aloud.

“An Outland Patrol Shield.”


“But Damien had an Outlands Patrol Shield.”
“Yes. He sure did.”

“Why? How?”

“I don’t know yet.”

The world seemed to halt for Temmit as he and Smokey reiterated this notion over and over. Damien Starke was in possession of an Outlands Patrol Shield. Part of the young man thought that it would be best now to keep Damien alive, to ask him questions. But then cold reason suggested that any answers that Damien might give were suspect at best. Complete lies as often as not. He would confuse matters more than anything. And just because he was tied up, blindfolded, and gagged, didn’t mean that he would be a docile and compliant prisoner. He would still be dangerous indeed. And should he escape…the risks greatly outweighed the potential benefits of keeping him alive.

Damien in possession of a Shield, and also looking for the names of Whisper members, might easily explain how the Karh’Thul knew which particular kids to target. And not only that, but other theories of Temmit’s tightened considerably.

Where would Damien have gotten a shield? Well, who could reasonably be expected to own one? Based upon what Temmit had learned over the last few weeks there were two obvious options: on one hand, they might have inherited it. On the other hand, there was the church. Fresenius, that’s who.

The Medallion fairly bristled with energy in Temmit’s hands. He knew that Damien owned this Medallion. He could feel the villain’s mind upon it. Even if Temmit had found this Medallion in a back alley in Shantytown, he would know that it had belonged to Damien Starke. He didn’t know how he knew it, but there was a deep-seated conviction there. He needed to explore this sensation, and especially with respect to this Medallion…who owned it before Damien did? He knew the answer lay deep in the metal of the Mark.

“So do we keep Damien alive?” Smokey asked.

Temmit had already answered that question for himself: “No.”

A quick, forceful thrust of Damien’s own masterwork dagger separated the villain’s vertebrae and with relatively little work Temmit was able to decapitate him. The head fell unceremoniously into the sink. Damien had already lost a great deal of blood, so the ordeal wasn’t as messy as it might have been. It was messy enough, though, and Temmit had to command his stomach to settle; an image of Leslie, bound, gagged, and bruised, helped Temmit’s resolve considerably.

He shoved Damien’s body down the shaft, and ran water into the sink, rinsing the blood down the drain as well. He rinsed his hands and cleaned the dagger.

Thankfully, Damien’s head fit nicely into the sack of salt that Temmit had brought along for the purpose. He made sure that the salt covered the entire head, as it would preserve the head a bit, and keep the stench down. It was a cinch that they wouldn’t be able to deal with it tonight, so this would keep it viable for a day or three until they could get done what they needed to get done.

His grisly work completed, Temmit took off his apron and threw it down the shaft, donning his clothes once again. He hefted the sack, as well as the dagger and headed back to the warehouse.

In Character Discussions / Victory at the a cost
« on: November 16, 2008, 09:44:17 AM »
The companions made their way back down through the lower tunnels of the fortmount and towards the crypt. Maccabeus walked beside Wolf, having called upon Mahiya's strength to mend his companion's wounds. Maccabeus did his level best to help carry the body of his fallen companion: Ragner.

It felt much to him like a funeral march, and he was conflicted a bit regarding Ragnar's death. On the one hand, the noble Protector had fallen honorably, fighting the foul foe that was the shadewolf, and Maccabeus would miss his presence.

On the other hand, Ragnar had entered into the next revolution of the Great Cycle, and we now free of the fears that he had grappled with in this life.

Birth to a new death, death to a new birth he thought as they moved through the subterranian tunnels.

He found himself quietly humming a dirge from the Dale, celebrating the Great Cycle and his friend's part in it.

Game Log / Episode 19: The Cliffside Crypts Part 4
« on: November 15, 2008, 03:12:42 PM »
Note: Some revisionist history took place to account for missing members of the Protectorate.

Lander Leofric’s wife, Frenzoria, was attacked in the basement of the Cliffsie inn- the home and business. Julius called upon the protectorate to investigate the attack. Upon searching around in the basement an opening at the top of the wall was discovered. The wall was dismantled and behind it was a forgotten hallway. The halwway lead into a crypt where the protectorate explored. During their exploration they were attacked by a living shadow. The shadow was powerful enough for the Protectorate to retreat and heal

The next day prompted further investigation. Towards the end of the crypt was an ancient burial site of Galavan MacConnel a renowned Wildlander hero. Inaddition to that was a dilapidated embalming table and makeshift temple, with the trappings of a Shadow Rider ritual, that had seen recent use.

In looking around, a trap door was found that lead out to the river but another was found that lead to a very long hallway that ended at door above. When opening the door three pairs of glowing purple eyes were seen and it was decided to return the following day with help.

The following day Severen and the new arrival, Bastion went with the Protectorate to continue the discovery of where this mysterious hallway went to. Entering the first large chamber 3 of the Living Shadows immediately attacked, Severen, using his dark power over the undead, and bastion invoking the power of Sardior, defeated the free floating full torso vaporous apparitions. Severen and Maal returned to the Temple of Shadows with the apparitions where Severen could bend them to his will.

Although eager to continue, it was decided that until Severen returned, it would be futile to pursue the mystery of this haunted place.

Saturday November 1, 2008

Qwydeon Albyr Voldyn [June 1] Morning:
Bastion: Matt
Maccabeus: Johan
Ragnor: Hemo
Severen: NPC


Wolf’s reaction in the underground upon seeing tracks of shadwolves fills you with both excitement and regret. The shadewolves, your natural enemy, have proven to be valiant adversaries in the past. You find it unfortunate that such a twisted strain of your brother could exist. Are they beyond saving you wonder. Are they misunderstood as so many wolves often are and if so, does that mean you do not understand wolves the way you thought? Kym has deep understanding of wolves in a way you can only hope. Would she do no less in killing shadewolves?
Glancing over at your brother playfully minding the pups of the pack you are reminded that creatures are more like us than most would care to admit. Would a mother shadewolf defend her young any less? Is that love or just survival? If they do, in fact, love, are they really evil?

Regardless, the wolves that Wolf sensed will attack if prompted to by their masters…and defend your kindred you will…for both love and survival.


Your time in Threshold has been brief…but so far, exciting! Your sworn acolytes are busy cleaning the Temple of Crimson Eyes in preparation for the opening ceremony. They attack their hard work with such fervor and devotion it makes you proud to guide them. Perhaps your example of wielding divine power against the dark minions will inspire them further. In addition you’ve seen the power that Sardior grants you when you call upon it…power beyond that of healing. This application of divine backing has bolstered your faith in a way that Jonak, your once mentor, would be filled with pride.

Severen has proven to be a curious individual to you. He his akin to the darkness and has power over the risen spirits but in speaking with him you find he has certain nobility about him. It’s not often you’ve had any contact with a dark priest but if others are as he is then one would have to wonder what people are so fearful of. After all, everyone has their own point of view and who is to say who has a monopoly on truth? What’s more, he is frighteningly familiar with the rituals, particularly with the death rituals, of the Sadiorian Order.

Everyone has their own path and far be it for anyone to dictate to another what that path might be. Though you have come in the hopes of teaching, learning never stops.


The idea of revenge upon your once slavers fills with you an overdue satisfaction. The prospect of mercy towards them is non-existent as they had not shown you any when you were captive. Yes, revenge is a dish best served cold.

As was revealed, it was a Shadow Rider ritual that brought forth the phantoms in the underground. They must be here…somewhere! So close you can taste the delicious backlash that you will deliver upon them. The suspense of such a return is frustrating but the delivery of it you will savor.


Protectorate gets paid today! 15G!!
Members meet at the Cliffside Inn for breakfast.
Wait for Bastion to select his spells.
During our protracted conversations, the realization comes to us collectively that Galivan McConnel’s Tomb is under the Circle of All, and there must be a clear significance to that. The nature of that significance eludes us though.

After food, conversation, and spell selection, we troupe back into the underground, following the paths to where we collectively left off.

Up into the large room, there is an opening to the NE. There is a hallway that leads to another chamber, and in that chamber are two more of the phantoms that we fought last session (these phantoms have been nick-named “Mistberries”).
FIGHT – Ragnar gains aggro quickly. And the mistberries are pretty quickly defeated.

Wildfire: Please describe this room? My notes are a bit sparse, but they speak about a door that we “placed the bar upon”. My recollection is that there was this large door that was closed; it had grips on it that would enable us to place a wooden lock-bar on it, preventing it’s opening (fearing that there were other baddies behind said door).

There was also another corridor that, looking down, we could see two other mistberries. We voted to put the bar on the door and deal with the mistberries.

As that fight begins, Sevren charms one of them and uses it to fight the other one (along with us fighting the other one). We win (Like there was any other option – we rock)!

Need another description here, Wildflower!

Going through the next door, we come to realize that we’re in the Formount! YIKES!! There’s shadowrider & mistberry presence in the Fortmount!!
Conundrum: How many shadowriders might be present here at the Fortmount? Scads! More then we’re likely to be able to handle. Retreat back to Julius to convene.

Thoughts: They can send the Thornbramble twins in to reconnoiter the place. Julius states that there is another, MORE secret entrance to the Fortmount.

We need info, and that will hopefully come by the next session!

Character Info / Trillomore
« on: October 19, 2008, 10:03:03 AM »
These are pasted descriptions from ICDs:

The elf was fairly nondescript, as elves tended to be, and was dressed is a very utilitarian manner in shades of gray and olive.

The real story is that Trillomore is a slender High Elf with light brown hair and green eyes. He is very neat, and well-groomed. He stands about 5 feet tall.

The particular apartment to which the elf went was, Belwar noted, the exact one that he had heard Dannobar conspiring with the traitorous guard. Was it only a few short weeks ago?

The appartment was small, as it ever had been, and sparsely furnished with basic, functional chairs and a table, all of which were made of stout wood. The walls of this small apartment were barren. It was clear to Belwar that this was either a vacant apartment - which was unlikely as the keep was so full of residents these days - or it was in fact at the disposal of this elf, but he didn't live here. No one could; there was no bed, no couch, no dishwares or utensils or even so much as a coat rack. The only touch of personalization in the room was the form, apparently burned into the wooden surface of the round table, of an owl in flight.

Out of character discussions / Current Status - September 2008
« on: September 29, 2008, 07:36:38 PM »
Hey folks. I've been giving FK some thought, and as I've reviewed what's been going on, I realize that I feel that the scenario and RP ball is in my thinking in the Player's court.

If anyone is interested in playing, please read the log, as it is current and reflected of the status of the game. I'd be interested in hearing the following:

1) Wanna play?
2) Given the latest developments and current thoughts, what are people going to be doing to get things moving in the direction that they want them to move in?
3) Anyone doing anything additional that might not be on my radar at all?
4) Are there ICDs that folks think need to happen?
5) Is there anybody out there?

In Character Discussions / 12.27.2132 - A New Cell
« on: June 30, 2008, 11:02:19 PM »
Temmit waited for Renee and Leslie to disappear into the catacombs that would lead them back to Renee's secret chamber, Whisper's storage closet, and would eventually return Leslie safe and sound. Once the dark had swallowed his two best friends, Temmit pulled the lever that lowered the granite block from the cieling, blocking the corridor that led into Whisper's new cell.

The block ground it's way into place with an ominous finality.  “I hope that Leslie will be safe from here on out.” He remarked to Smokey.

“She’s with Renee.” Smokey pointed out. “How much more safe can she be?”

“Good point.” Temmit conceded.

“Who’s going to protect you, though?”

Temmit grasped that point very quickly. He was now completely alone in Whisper’s new cell, with Damien Starke. A moment of fear and panic splashed upon his chest, but his intellect quickly reasserted itself. Damien was unconscious, and would remain so for at least the next day.

“Or so you believe. Renee is no doctor, you know.”

Damien was also well tied up.

“But which of you is really any good with a rope?”

He was blindfolded and gagged as well.

“But again…”


For a moment, there was silence in Temmit’s mind, then a small, contrite voice whispered, “It wasn’t me.” He knew that there would be no further issues.

Temmit made his way back to the room where Damien lay unconscious and immobile. To his relief the traitorous sorcerer remained as incapacitated as he had been when they tied him there.

Temmit checked the ropes, the gag (which wasn’t tight enough to suit Temmit's sense of vengeance), and the blindfold; all were satisfactorily held fast. Nevertheless, Temmit drew his sword and sat in the chair facing the sorcerer, standing vigil until that night, when Renee should return.

“You should really learn a little more about tying knots.”

In Character Discussions / 12.24.2132 - Hopenight at the Tavern
« on: June 26, 2008, 04:33:25 PM »
To say that Temmit was anxious would be an understatement. Like calling the Karh'Thul a bit of a threat to humanity. "The humanity of Safe Haven, that is." Smokey reminded him.

As soon as Hopeday classes were done, he dropped his student-gear in his dorm, went through the cafeteria for a small sandwich and a large coffee, and headed out into the streets.

It was a cloudless night; cold and brisk. The sort that turned your cheeks to thick clay (since there's no such thing as rubber). Temmit's long legs made short work of the trek from the dorms to the Can't Get There From Here.

He entered the main lobby, and while he turned immediately to his right, he glanced about the lobby on the off chance that Leslie was there.

In Character Discussions / 12.23.2132 - A night by the River
« on: June 25, 2008, 10:03:32 PM »
At long last Temmit was alone. He had spent the bulk of the afternoon and evening in Shantytown listening to Leslie and Mia go over suppositions of how life was going to be from here on out.

It was clear to Temmit that Mia was an excellent addition to their clan. He looked forward to working with her in the future.

The three had made their way to the Artificer's House, where Leslie and Temmit had left Mia, and then to the Actor's House, where Leslie stayed during the school week.

Although they had been careful to not speak in public about their business, Temmit reminded Leslie that they would need to meet the following evening at the Marks' tavern.

"Sure thing, Slick." Leslie quipped as she entered the Girls' dorm. Temmit heard her giggling as the door closed behind her.

"I wonder how long that will go on." Smokey pondered. Temmit didn't answer, but walked on through the winter night, shaking his head. He was on his way to see River.

Step by step, he made his coffeeless way to the boys' dorms of the Clergy House. He estimated that it was at that point a bit before 10 night-hand. River had said that he should be there by 9. Hopefully he had been correct.

In Character Discussions / 12.23.2132 - Investigation
« on: June 19, 2008, 11:15:31 PM »
Lunch at the cafeteria was never truly satisfying, but it was Temmit's favorite price: free. He had filled his over-sized ceramic stein with coffee before heading back out into the winter streets and made his way to the Marks' Tavern. Hopefully Leslie would be there, and if not, Mr. Marks might know where the little sprite had gotten off to.

He entered the inn, but there was no one in the main lobby, where guests and tenents rented the rooms of the inn. He turned to the right and passed through the narrow swinging doors and into the tavern. He cast about for Leslie, preferrably, but failing that, for Mr. Marks.

In Character Discussions / 12.23.2132 - Speculation
« on: June 19, 2008, 10:02:39 PM »
“Let’s start with facts.” Temmit addressed Smokey as they lay on the floor of Renee’s chamber.

“Agreed, as usual.” Smokey accommodated him.

“Marcus is certainly an unusual 15-year old.”


“Parents are divorced or at least separated.”

“Rich mother in the city, Dad in Southaven.”

“Area, at least.” Temmit corrected. “When not in school, seems to normally live with this father. Was there last FallEnd, disappeared for nearly two weeks (reports vary a bit). Shows up rather suddenly unharmed and says that he simply got lost in the forest and ‘survived off the land’, as it were.”

“Correct.” Smokey returned. “On to Hearsay?”

“Verily.” Temmit agreed, having re-trod all that seemed to be factual in this case.

“Not only did he show up unharmed, but by all accounts he was none the worse for wear.”

“I believe the phrase that was used was ‘Not a hair out of place’.

“Yes, I think that phrase was used.” Temmit agreed. “And that suggests that he certainly wasn’t sleeping on the floor of an autumn forest.”

“Sure. He would have had a nice, clean place to stay.”

“Then there’s Emma’s reiteration of Marcus’s mother’s written statement in the medical priests’ records including the following symptoms: increased physical strength; increased energy; a far greater degree of extroversion; an unruly nature; flamboyancy.”

“Seems that his adventure in the forest changed his whole persona.”


“What of our own observations?” Smokey prompted.

“He isn’t aware of the social etiquette here in Our Commons…likely in Safe Haven at all.”

“Concluded based upon…?”

“He didn’t know enough to give his age and house when greeting me…or Fresenius, for that matter.”

“Good spot.” Smokey congratulated him. "Seems that you’ve actually learned a thing or two about paying attention to detail.”

“He is certainly unruly.”

“He sure did try to incite you to trash Shanteel’s office.”

“Any additional oddities?”

“Well, he did give me a cover story about a girl named Sarah, but then recanted and delivered a far more innocuous story.”

“Ok…I can see that. If the truth of his story was that he was lost in the woods, and only that, he wouldn’t have had a cover story at all.” Smokey summed up Temmit’s point.


“What else?”

“It was obvious that Fresenius had never before today met Marcus. Why would he clear the schedule of the Quintescant for a child that he doesn’t know? Also, why does he not seem to mind when Marcus fails to observe social conventions?”

“Why indeed?”

“All right…I think that’s about everything.”

“Now to sew it all together.”

“The kid clearly wasn’t lost in the forest at all. He was staying with someone…perhaps this person named Sarah.”

“Let’s take an assumption that his mother’s observations are valid; he is stronger, more energetic, more flamboyant, more unruly, and suddenly extroverted. We’ve certainly seen evidence of a child who is unruly, extroverted, and energetic.

“If these are all changes that occurred within the span of a week, then what might cause that?”

“For one thing, as speculated by some: emergence of a gift.”

“Nnnneeeeyyyaaaa…” Smokey made his ‘I’m not so sure of that’ sound.

“I didn’t think so either.” Temmit agreed. “Seems to me that you can explain some of those changes, but not a whole-sale change in character.”

“So let’s do away with the Gift emergence idea.”

“Agreed. What other theory do you have?”

“Alchemy.” Smokey supplied.

“But if it were alchemy, he’d have to be taking the draught on a regular basis. Every day at least. Likely more often than that.”

“Presumably.” Smokey agreed.

“Alchemy might also account for his lack of social etiquette.” Temmit said. “You know, he’s pretty quick though. I’ll bet you he only added ‘My Grace’ because River did, and he was imitating River.”

“Good thing you didn’t go first. Aren’t you glad that I held you back?”

Temmit smirked. “But that gives us a fellow who isn’t aware of things that are ingrained in every one of us from a very early age.”

“And given that his mother is so pious, she would likely have taught him proprieties.”

“So how does it come to pass that he doesn’t know?”

“Only one way that I can think of.” Temmit returned. “This isn’t Marcus, and as ludicrous as it sounds, this Marcus isn’t from Safe Haven.”

The two were silent for a long moment, allowing this staggering thought to gain hold in their minds.

“So if we take this to be our working theory,” Temmit explored cautiously. “The reason that Fresenius isn’t concerned that Marcus doesn’t know the social platitudes is that Fresenius doesn’t expect Marcus to know them.”

“And that would mean…”

“That Fresenius knows that Marcus is from outside of Safe Haven.”

There was another long moment of mutual solitude. “So let’s say that our theory from last night holds true, and Karh’Thul are hunting gifted.” Temmit ventured at last. “I’m going to assume that it’s also true that Fresenius is working with the Karh’Thul in order to wipe out what he considers to be a more onerous threat: the gifted. I’m willing to bet you that Marcus is indeed gifted. But his power, whatever it may be, is only just now manifesting.”

"I’ll bet that his mother is close to Fresenius, and speaks to him of the troubles of having a teen-yeared son. She is, as I’ve heard, clueless. But Fresenius is not. He can identify by her stories that Marcus is gifted.”


“He passes this information on to his Karh’Thul contact, who in turn arranges to have Marcus abducted and replaced with a simulacrum.”

“They release the bastard into Our Commons to see what he can find out; to learn about more gifted kids. To get close to the resistance cells that he so cleverly asked me about. Over the course of the next month, our Outlands visitor has trouble fitting in, being a chaotic individual as he is. His mother notices the changes, and becomes frightened. She requests that the Quintescant try to ‘cure’ her beloved son. They arrange an audience for such a wealthy benefactor.”

“Fresenius learns of this audience, and decides to take his opportunity to conduct their one-month debriefing.”

“Why keep Marcus on the Quintescant’s schedule for the day?” Smokey asked.

“To use him to kill them?” Temmit suggested. “If he can replace one person, he can replace many.”

Temmit sat up then. He had no idea how long he had held council with Smokey. “Renee,” he said. “I have sort of an…Outlandish theory.”

In Character Discussions / 12-22-2132 - The Awakening
« on: March 29, 2008, 09:52:39 PM »
Temmit jumped up from where had fallen asleep at the table, and fell shaking to the floor. His telling Renee of the day his family died had brought his personal tragedy up in his mind, and it in turn had presented the story to him again in his sleep.

He was crying again, as he always was. He was holding Smokey tightly again, as he always was. Except this time he was shaking on the floor of a hidden bedroom in Lowtown. The lantern still glowed dimly in the subterranean room.

He fought to gain control of himself. ”Your safe.” Smokey said to him. He breathed deeply, trying to focus past the gaping maw that consumed his vision.

Characters / Temmit Janalinus
« on: March 22, 2008, 09:55:13 PM »
NAME: Temmit Janalinus
AGE: 15
CLASS: Psion (Clairsentient) / Psychic Warrior
HOUSE: The Scribes

ATTRIBUTES: Temmit stands 5'9" tall and weighs 130lbs. It is clear that he's not quite done growing, though. He is neither particularly strong nor weak. He has thick dark hair and has begun to sprout a sparse beard that he shaves every three or four days. Temmit’s back, chest, and buttock are all heavily scarred. His upper arms and thighs bear lighter scars.

Left to his own, Temmit is quiet and a bit isolationist. He is always willing to help, should anyone ask. He is thoughful and introverted.

APPEARANCE: Temmit does not have too many personal belongings to speak of. He wears his school uniform at all times; claiming the convenience of having only one thing to fuss. Temmit is clean and variably shaven. He is well-organized and a bit meticulous regarding the condition of those few things that he does own. He wears a pendant about his neck: it is a smokey quartz crystal on a leather thong.


Temmit is a difficult person to lie to. He seems to know what's going on, and what people are thining although how he knows is often a mystery. He occasionally thinks out loud, supposing various causes for one thing or another.

Roumor has it that Temmit does not sleep at all, and in fact he always looks tired and sleep deprived. He is not a very capable combatant, seeming clumsy and slow in his attacks. Critics say that he telegraphs his attacks.

FAMILY: Temmit has been in the orphanages since he was younger than 4 years old. He has no known family, though he doesn't talk about them at all. No one knows what happened to his family (why he has none)

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