Aolyn, master of winds aboard the Farway, never really knew her mother or her father. The wind was always her only love. Fierce of character, Aolyn has a remarkable dream life…she is a dreamer…dreaming of dragons and song, wine and joy…
Dalwin of the Dark Wings
Posted in Gavin Wel, The Mice Eyes on February 18, 2011 by coyoteandthunder
Emma’s character. Figure painting by Matt. Click to enlarge
Jin the Stalker
Posted in Gavin Wel, The Mice Eyes on February 18, 2011 by coyoteandthunder
Jin.
Figure painting by Matt, Click to enlarge
Kornick the Bleak Assassin
Posted in Gavin Wel, The Mice Eyes on February 18, 2011 by coyoteandthunder
kornick – gnome assassin: unknown background – raised by an old street vendor named Buttle whom used his trade as cover for assassinations. Kornick helped in these plots to earn his keep, learning the stealthy skills of hunting human prey. Kornick has no memory of these days on the streets – for when he became of an older age he developed dementia and has continually relies on his skill of killing to lead his way. Often he hoped a new killing contract would help lead him to remember, only to be driven further into confusing madness. The ones who do know him, keep his identity secret for he has been molded into the perfect assassin. I smell foul play done to the mind of Kornick.
Kornick is a blood member of the Bleak Disciples
Story by David
Figure painting by Matt, click to enlarge
Aukon and the Urban Wilderness
Posted in Gavin Wel, Men, The Mice Eyes on February 16, 2011 by coyoteandthunder
Aukon is a razorclaw. Within him flows the vicious blood of his lycanthropic ancestors. Men fear his people. The wide planes and dense woods his tribe called home were invaded, tamed and ultimately broken. Aukon’s people chose to abandon the shade of the woods of the Dreamwater and take refuge in the great city of Gavin Wel. Not long after, Aukon’s mother fell ill. The night after she died in her sleep, Aukon’s father preformed a mourning ceremony and began training Aukon in the ways of his forefathers, the ways of a druid, the ways of the court of the Nine Stars. Later that summer, his father was killed by the Raven guard. Aukon was a fast learner and in only 8 solstices, his training was finished under the tutelage of Laria Relthathik, Aumbaure of the Dark Wings. Aukon is an urban druid, as much at home in the wilderness of the City as he is in the wilds of tree and root. A reader of signs, Aukon has taken pact with the Dark Wings, who finds his talents invaluable.
Where this Road will Lead
Posted in The Farway, The Fey People on February 16, 2011 by coyoteandthunder
Found on the doorstep of a human noble family as an infant. It was the house
cook that hid and cared for young Ratzwick until he was old enough to work off his debt to the family. Finding quiet from a busy manor that was too overwhelming for a small gnome child was a full time for Ratz. the future sorcerer spent most of his days caring for the gardens and livestock. Preferring the company of the animals to that of the other children made Ratzwick the easiest target to the pranks of others. Sometimes it was just being poked with a stick more often that not it was dead village cats in his bed or headless mice in his shoes. This constant torment is the reason for his soft voice and heavy speech impediment, which is almost unrecognizable as words when he is angry, scared or tired. (Funny enough, get him drunk and he sings with the most beautiful voice) Not having any other gnomes around Clarice, his caretaker, knew nothing of the upcoming changes gnomes go through when they come of age. As he got older his skill in the kitchen and garden became something of pride to the family of the house, never giving the credit to Ratzwick, but allowing him to focus on the more posh jobs that the other servants coveted. Soon it was clear that Ratz wasn’t wanted and his isolation from others was his way of life. Often spending his time by the water drawing or singing lightly the songs Clarice would hum under her breathe all day. It was a few weeks before his “birthday”, a day like all the others that Ratzwick came in from the garden with few pulled root vegetables and found
the only person he had ever cared for dead on the kitchen floor. Grief and
sorrow over took him and soon without thinking a deep dark feeling started to grow from inside, his hairs started to stand on end and it seemed that the room grew frighteningly still and dark. It has been rumored that pixies were the cause of the storm inside the house that day, but none were to be found. What ever the cause, it was the last day anyone from his home village ever saw Ratzwick.
Moving from town to town trying to find a place where he fit it- it wasn’t until
he met the dwarves of Mons Porthos that he was welcomed into a “society”.
Ratzwick was good with an anvil and could make weapons faster than their two finest blacksmiths. Keeping to himself and quiet as a mouse Ratzwich heard many a tale of conqure and plans of war, always listening and never butting in with an opinion- this made him a great confidant to the drinking dwarves of town. Working all day and night gave Ratz comfort and meaning, days turned into months which turned into years, and it probably would have continued that way if the Great Storm hadn’t happened. It raged for days causing floods in the fields, landslides on the coasts and the death of many a man and animal alike. Ratzwick and the rest of the dwarves took to higher ground hoping to wait out the storm, but soon it became apparent that the food supply wouldn’t outlast mother nature.
Ratz was volunteered to head a party to gather what ever was left, a fools
mission for sure, but the timid gnome said nothing as he headed into town.
Everything was destroyed and as he searched further into the unknown parts of the village night fall was fast at hand, hoping to make it back up the mountain before the moon was at it’s highest, an empty handed Ratz headed back, but it seemed the elements had other plans. The thunderstorm pushed him further and further off course, it wasn’t until he was at the coast line that Ratzwick looked for shelter. Finding a small cave, he climbed in as deep as he could and hoped morning would come soon. Right before dawn the feeling of cold water woke the gnome and soon it was clear that the coast was flooding and drowning in the cave would likely happen. Panic filled Ratzwick as he struggled to get out of his watery grave. A sand dune blocked his way, at the moment which he thought was his last a strange calmness filled him and the lullaby Clarice sang to him as an infant came to mind. Closing his eyes Ratz welcomed death- but death would not answer, instead the area around became suddenly hot and dry with a flurry of movement in a circular direction- opening his eyes Ratzwick found himself in the eyewell of a tropical cyclone. A Cyclone that seem to glow a bright green, the same color green of the pedant Ratzwick always wore, the only thing he took off of Clarice’s body before he left his childhood home, speaking the words of his nurserylullaby aloud the cyclone lifted off the ground and carried the gnome into the air. Once at safety the cyclone’s winds dispersed at the sky grew calm once more. Ratz never said goodbye to the dwarves, who probably thought he perished in the roughest night of the Great Storm, and leftto find the meaning to all that happened.
Traveling the land, asking few questions and giving fewer answers Ratzwick
gained control of his powers, the strongest being that of the water elements. It wasn’t until he found Clarice’s granddaughter that it all became clear. Stories of her arcane lineage and the meaning of the lullabies (they were actually spells put to rhymes to help children remember them better). Always wanting to know more, Ratzwick Tontuu has never settled down, but always looking to know where this fork in the road will lead.
More Trouble Than Worth
Posted in Orsolon, The Mice Eyes on February 16, 2011 by coyoteandthunderAukon set out to find his fortune and began moving from city to city with an orphaned wolf pup he’d rescued not long after striking out on his own. Part of his training required that he learn to control his most primal aspects but though Aukon hardly noticed he spent more and more time in his animal form, preying on peoples secrets as a spy. Unfortunately one of his victims was able to see through his facade and Aukon was put in jail. But it seemed that the eyes of the law were not the only eyes that gazed upon him for no more than an hour after being incarcerated he was released. Aukon had been bailed out by none other than the Mice Eyes guild and this is when Aukon’s adventures would truly begin.
“Poor kid” whispered a sandy voice from beneath a veil of black cloth.
Achmed was crouched down low next to the body of a boy, no more than 12 years old. He gently turned the lifeless head revealing the after math of a serious blow to the head. The visions of violence that stirred in his mind as he pictured the event were brief, like flashes of lightning revealing only for a fraction of a second the fate of this slave. It was almost overwhelming.
Placing his hands firmly on his thighs Achmed silently rose from the ground, a gust of desert wind gently blowing against his collection of cloaks. He could taste a hint of salt on the wind and from far away he could smell a hint of torch smoke. Night had begun to fall and with the darkness it would also bring death, Like a wraith Achmed’s cloaked form flowed across the sand like water, gently gliding ever closer to his target. He spared no detail in his approach.
This bounty was personal to him, though he’d been sent to kill slavers before this was a man who Achmed had been quite eager to destroy.
like poison Achmed spit out the name.
“Ismaleos.”
His memories boiled over his years of freedom, over the mental walls he’d built what seemed like a lifetime ago, and again he could feel the weight of shackles on his hands and feet. It was if Achmed was suddenly transported ten thousand miles away, the beating of drums forced him to march, behind him was a woman, in front a man. He fell. Sand pressed into his weary face for a brief second before rough hands clawed into his hair, dragging him to his feet. “It was him” Achmed thought.
Ismaleos laughed in his face while reaching in his pouch. His hand returned with a small glass bottle “This should wake you up” he sneered, emptying the contents into Achmed’s throat.
His eyes opened wide and his mouth fell open and he tried to scream but to his horror he was only able to produce a muffled croak. The poison coursed through his body burning and twisting and for the next ten years of his life Achmed was silent.
The events that would unfold that night roared in his brain like rolling thunder, as the camp fell asleep Achmed plotted his revenge and as the night reached it’s darkest point he slipped between the guards watching over him and crept towards a lavish tent that housed Ismaleos’s hulking body. He slid a knife out of a sheath. He raised it’s glinting blade and stabbed. Unfortunately the man he was trying to kill was not so unprepared.
Achmed’s ears rang with the blow that cracked against his head and his mind slipped into shadows. He woke as dawns light was just beginning to glare against the camp, he was restrained, he was defeated. His weight was lifted off the ground suddenly and he was carried to the center of the camp. Ismaleos stood over him now, chuckling. “I guess you’re just a little more trouble than you’re worth”
Ismaleos quickly lashed him to a pole and set him across the embers left by the fire that burned through the night. Achmed’s mouth opened silently screaming in pain and horror as the heat of the embers slowly began to burn away at his flesh and for the second time his mind was overwhelmed by darkness.
When he next awoke it was to the immense discomfort of being carried on the back of a horse, he looked to see his new surroundings but all he could make out was the form of the cloaked woman commanding the beast that would take him to his new life. upon noticing his stirring the woman turned to him and ran her hand gently across his brow, sending him back into sleep and filling his mind with feelings of comfort.
The woman’s name was Sasha and over the next ten years she not only nursed him back to health but trained him in the arts of a killer. Though he was brought from the brink of death he was left with terrible scars covering most of his body, scars that he learned to conceal lest he horrify someone dear.
But as he crept into Ismaleos’s tent for the second time, twelve years after he began his new life Achmed carefully unwrapped his face pulling down his mask to show the man who made him this way true horror. Now It was Achmed smiling as he pulled a bottle from a pouch and with a short and quick movement he emptied the contents down Ismaleos’s throat.
Ismaleos lay there silently screaming while Achmed towered above him, his shadowed form looking never more like death its self. Achmed silently dispatched his foe freeing himself finally from his past.
“Now I guess we can turn our gaze on what’s to come”
Gord. Ready To Rock
Posted in Gavin Wel, The Mice Eyes on February 16, 2011 by coyoteandthunder
Not much is know about where Gord came from or how he ended up handling Gamanalor’s most deadliest assignments. What is know is that Gord is mean and unforgiving. Know to take a blade to anyone if it means a bigger shank at the dinner table. This Half-Orc has no family, very little friends and sleeps with both eyes open. (It’s true he drops dew frown Mucilage to keep the moisture in his eyes and protect them from the elements). Always the first to rush into a battle- act now, ask questions later- if the person can still talk is the usual motto of this double flailed fighter. Although not really shown amongstthieves, Gord is very loyal and good to have on your side, especially when facing large opponents.
My sacrifice is your death…
Posted in The Farway on February 16, 2011 by coyoteandthunderNerro was born into the life of a mage, he lived with his father in a remote tower where he learned the art of blood magik. It was only too unfortunate that while dabbling in this dark and shunned arcane study his fathers mind was corrupted by none other than Vecna. When his father attempted to use Nerro as a blood sacrifice Nerro flew into an uncontrollable rage destroying a major portion of his tower. For years he remained in solitude studying his fathers forgotten tomes deep in the keeps subterranean vaults. It was years before he thought himself mentally fit to venture into the world and many years more before he finally found himself wise enough to bring his quick temper under control. Though he is still known to lose himself to his anger most people know him to be a kind old man and a mystic. More recently he’s found himself drawn to seeking the most ancient tomes to study long forgotten power, perhaps he thinks his wisdom will enable him to wield more awesome power for the benefit of good, or perhaps he is only just now following the path of his father. Nerro is now the arcanist on the vessel Farway and would be happy to call it’s crewmen friends, and some among them are as close to him as family.
“my sacrifice is your death, and as my blood boils with ire yours shall burn with with righteous flam!”
Nerro’s fate, despite his own accomplishments and long life is somehow forever tied to his father’s dark legacy
Isselyth, The City of the Dragon Gates
Posted in Uncategorized on February 15, 2011 by coyoteandthunder
Isselyth is among the most beautiful cities in all Daotyr. The Amilmeir statues of the dragongods watch of the Dragon Passage, a deep and wide canal that is the City’s main artery for international commerce. For a map and a history of the City, click on the link on the right.
Chronicles of the World of DaoTyr 