Brenna, Dwarven Fighter

Brenna grew up in the great dwarven city of Janderhoff. She apprenticed herself to her older brother as a blacksmith but soon found herself drawn to the faith of Torag. While continuing her apprenticeship, she began the preliminary testing to become a paladin acolyte within the church. At the age of 25, scant days before she would profess her initial vows, she came down with a strange sickness of the mind. None of the healers within the city could cure her, and her condition baffled them. She had acquired a second personality that seemed to share her body and take control at unexpected intervals.

The church of Torag was not willing to accommodate her strange malady in one of their paladins – Brenna had to be of whole mind and body to dedicate herself to the church, so she set out to find a cure to her affliction.

Dermod, her older brother, has accompanied her across Varisia in search of a miracle. Adventure did not suit him well, so they’ve decided to take a sabbatical here in Sandpoint where a decent blacksmith is welcome and needed. A decade has passed, and Brenna has become resigned to her mind’s other occupant. She would like to resume her journey, and if she can’t find a cure, then she’ll surrender herself to her fate and return home to Janderhoff. It’s just she has this breastplate to mend for Sheriff Hemlock, and those knives to sharpen for the White Deer Inn…

Lula, Dwarven Cleric

I don’t remember much about before. Being numb, really, and cold. There was a soft, lilting voice whispering that it would be okay, she’d take care of everything. I knew there was something I had to tell her, but the words wouldn’t form. I tried so hard, but she told me to be still as she bent down to kiss me.

Was it a moment or an eternity later that I opened my eyes again? One word erupted from my mouth, “Lula”. I clung to it like a sailor drowning, but it means little to me now. The concerned faces that surrounded me were strange and their language was foreign. They laughed when I asked for a beer in as many languages as I could manage, but the humor faded when I assured them my name was not, in fact, Brenna.

I guess I’m a dwarf now. This brain of mine doesn’t function properly. It’s like trying to wear a shirt with shoulders too broad and sleeves too short. Same could be said for the rest of the body, now that I think about it. I started to write because I couldn’t stand my inability to fumble through my own thoughts. It comes together a bit better on paper. The other occupant in my head appreciates the effort I put into my journal and has been kind enough to share her own daily endeavors so we aren’t too confused when we swap out.

Thankfully, my goddess knows me for her own – Desna has not forsaken me. I’ve lost so much, though. Once, a torrent of divine power flowed through me, and now I grasp barely a trickle.

I want out of this head and into a properly shaped body of my own. I want Lula. And right now, I want another beer. And maybe a barmaid. The dark-haired one enjoys my company well enough. What was her name again?

Erendriel “Silvir” Gwaedlon, Elven Wizard

Born in Almas, Andoran to the Kyonen Ambassadors to Andoran, Silvir is not technically a Citizen of the city that he spent his childhood. Silvir took up the study of Magic early on in life. He was sent in his teen years back to Kyonin to the Academy for the Mystic Arts. During his breaks visiting his family, he volenteered with the local chruch of Adadar to try and help keep order within the city.

During his last session at the Academy in Kyonen, a teleportation accident landed him in Varisia.

Jet Adore, Human Rogue

Sadly, I cannot say that I am “from” any certain city. I wasn’t even born in one. My da’ is Storm Windham, a local sea trader and captain of The Broken Mast. I know that he and my ma’ met in Sandpoint, so maybe technically I am from here. I was birthed on his ship, and that ship is where I grew up. My mother, Lily, died while I was young, so I don’t really remember her all that well, but my da’ always reminds me that I have her eyes. As soon as I was old enough to walk (and understand direction), I was put to work on the ship. Menial tasks at first, then as I got older and stronger, more important ones.

Around the time I turned 16 my da’ decided it was high time we had a “home port”, and that is ultimately how I ended up in Sandpoint. For the last three years I’ve called this city home in between cargo runs and the occasional intercept run. My da’ has a few boats that he rents out for a fair price, sometimes I’m called to captain them. It’s been a decent life, usual stuff, not to exciting… until lately that is…

Seoni Songbird, Human Bard

It saddens me that my departure from my family is on unwell terms but I’m sure that what I am doing is right for me. I’ve long loved visiting the taverns and theaters of Magnimar in secret from my mother and father before I ever got up the courage to go on stage and sing for myself. Well it seems that I have a descent voice for Cyrdak Drokkus has asked me to go to Sandpoint and sing at a festival of some doing in the town. He said he’s willing to take me under his wing as it were to teach me more of the art of singing. My noble birth has not allowed me to truly see the wide world out there and perhaps this will be my way to experience more then I would just sitting in court bored out of my mind. Crydak has said as much noting that most of what I sing are songs I’ve learned from others. Noting that I have nothing of my own and that never experiencing the things I sing of leaves my singing without much feeling to the stories, or so he says. Cut off from my family and traveling farther then I ever have, I hope this shall lead to a better and more meaningful life for me. If nothing else I am a fair shot with my bow. Perhaps I can find a better use for it than shooting targets in the our court yard, once far away from home.

ziQo, Gnome Oracle

ziQo, a completely average although like-able wandering gnome with an insatiable thirst for knowledge. I have been in Sandpoint about a week; most of which was spent either in the library or with Madame Mvashti the seer. I briefly met Bishop Abalaster Zantus who seems like a busy man. I tend to avoid large crowds and prefer to explore unnoticed. This is fairly easy partly because of my small stature, partly because I frequent low trafficked areas..oh! and of course my hood!

knowledge is power my friend!!!

Pile, Half-Orc Barbarian

He likes Chickens. Dont Ask.

Rigg, Human Sorcerer

Rigg’s Uncle was killed during the goblin attack during the Swallowtail Festival. He is at his majority of 15yrs old. He is currently staying at Turandarok Academy until his uncles affairs are settled and he can take on his inheritance.

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