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WIPPP

WIP shit

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a character in “Sand Castle”, as played by Scar.-

Description

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"The limits in your purse, not my capabilities."
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I N T R O D U C T I O N
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[ x G E N E R A L x I N F O R M A T I O N x ]

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xvon, the procurer, the spider
male
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dwarf
narghost
procurer/smuggler


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chestnut blonde, with a hint of red
light golden brown
weathered & lightly sun kissed
4’ 11”
147 lbs
short, muscular and stocky
Vonmyr has no tattoos or markings of a sort. He’s has contemplated getting one or two on occasion, but in his line of work it’s easier to have as minimal unique features as possible. His presence is no longer welcomed in the Dûrg Bekári Kingdom, so blending in works strongly in his benefit. Other than that, he has the occasion scar. The most predominant being the one across the bridge of his where there is evidence of past healing from a break or two. And another on his side below his ribs from his brother.



[ x D E S C R I P T I O N x ]
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At one point in Vonmyr’s life, he looked the part of most dwarves that scattered themselves about the world. Mostly this pertained to a thick beard and long hair scattered with assorted braids and decorated with metal baubles. But when he decided to abandon his family name and leave Dûrg-Bekari, he also chose to leave behind the man he was when he was a Craghold. While aboard the ship he cut his hair and shaved off his beard, making himself a different man.

Von’s hair is now short for a sward, yet still longer than what some men have about the world. He keeps it just above his shoulders with the top half tied back as to not obscure his vision, a habit he acquired with his many years on the sea. Although his times on the ocean have since passed, he continues to wear his hair as so. His keen lack of hair makes people question if he is a dwarf, if it was for his height that gave him away and his chest hair that always seems to make an appearance. He keeps his face cleaned shaved, or occasionally a shadow. But since removing his beard, he detests the itchy things.

His physique is stocky and muscular as most dwarves tend to be. But, his time spent away from Dûrg-Bekari doing strange work and living on the sea has slimmed him down a bit in comparison to the average Dwarf. He is still just as strong, if not more so working along side his companions. But he doesn’t quite look like a small unmovable boulder. Over the years he carries himself lighter on his feet, much more like a seafaring man and less heavy footed.

Vonmyr is most unlike the other men of his kind in the way he dresses, but he doesn’t mind nor care about the judgments of others. He has picked fashion he’s witnessed from other lands, mostly from men and how the human pirates tended to dress. It always seemed more practical to him rather than the heavy and cumbersome armor he was accustomed to. Von prefers colorful tunics he rarely tucks into his trousers or buttons it up to the collar, preferring to leave a little bit of the chest hair out… for the ladies of course. And he tends to keep his pants and boots fairly casual, preferring simple and comfortable cotton or leather.


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To no surprise to anyone that knows Phaedra, she is nearly two entirely different people. There is the true part of her, remnants of the girl she was back in Raes Ulin before her life was flipped upside-down. But on top of that are layers, built up year after year as a shield or cacoon to protect her from the harshness of the world. Anymore her outward self has become more and more her true self as it is the face she most often wears in her line of work, only rarely allowing slivers of whats beyond shine through.

A seductress, first and foremost, Phaedra can ensnare most men and women. She is a natural flirt. There is a natural charm in the way she laughs, unknowingly engaging in brief, intimate physical contact such as touching someone’s arm or brushing knees. This is less known to her, that she has a charming and light air about her only magnified by her sweet genuine smile. But whenever Phaedra is on the prowl, she is fully aware of every thing she does from the sway of her hips, placement of her hands, sensuality in her voice and directness of her gaze. This is something that took her years to master from watching how the Courtesans worked, especially Veela.

Often referred to as a minx, she lives up to the reputation. Phaedra has a keen sense of empathy, she may not feel similarly to others but she can read their emotions through their face and body language like another would read books. She is cunning and attentive, using what she observes to better adapt herself to certain situations or people. She has a fluidity in transitioning herself to fit the mold of what is needed. Pretending to be something she isn’t for gain is something that comes natural to her, learned from a young age from being surrounded by selfish and manipulative nobles.

As the layers begin to peel away from her, it does take long for others to see how truly fierce of a woman she is. Phaedra has a sharp tongue and quick wit which can be seen as snarky or snide on some occasions. She is a no bullshit type of woman, laying things out the way they are or the way she sees them without sugar coating or softening the blow. Even with a longer life than some, life is still too short in her eyes to tip toe around for the sake of people pleasing. She can be feisty when others push her buttons, no longer allowing others mistreat her regardless of their titles or name. But also on a deeper level, her rough edges are a barrier to keep most at an arms length for fear of letting anyone too close.

Phaedra is a fairly damaged woman which has left her reluctant when it comes to trust and openness with others. It’s few and far between the number of people who have been genuine and cared about her, and those people have all gone. With their absence, Phae has closed herself off out of fear of losing someone she lets in or that person being used against her. This makes her come off as a hard nut to crack for she will divert conversations away from more personal matters, avoid giving decisive answers and push others away unintentionally. She can become prickly when prodded with personal situations she isn’t comfortable opening up for.

When she does allow herself to be unraveled, the woman inside isn’t farther complicated or heartless like some might assume. Phaedra, deep down, is quite simple. She is compassionate, exorbitantly so toward those who are seen as different such as herself. On a couple occasions since her time with The Shadow Courtesans she’s been known to take a similar soul under her wing just as Veela had with herself. Her heart aches for those discriminated against, especially the rare sprinklings of half-breeds throughout the kingdoms.

She isn’t scared of death but of un-fulfillment. Phaedra has gone through most of her life since leaving Raes Ulin keeping everyone at an arms length. And although she is proud of her accomplishments in The Shadow Courtesans, working her way up their ranks for decades, she still feels an empty pit in her gut when she lies awake in bed at night. Phaedra feels her old self chipping away, slowly, piece by piece and fears what will become of her life, if anything at all.


[ x F E A R S x ]

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Being forced to face the cruelties of this world alone for long, the thought of having to continue to face it without a friend or companion to the end of her days frightens her to the core. Loneliness is a hunger that slowly grows bit by bit until it consumes a person. She doesn't want to die alone.
Contrary to what others believe, Phaedra trembles at the thought of having to kill another in cold blood. Logically, her mind has rationalized killing out of self defense. But even those lives weigh heavily on her conscious. She does not let this show, being quick to threaten another should the need arise. Luckily for her, the circumstance has not yet arisen for her to follow through with her threats.
A near death experience as a young child has left her scared. And although Phaedra is a strong swimmer, whenever she is thrown into waters to high to stand in she panics and all rational thought leaves her mind.
Compassion and love is a weakness, especially to those who follow immoral occupations. Often her fear of a loved one being used against her outweighs her fear of loneliness. An unfortunate balance where no matter how her life pans out, she cannot avoid them both.

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[ x Q U I R K S x ]

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She's quite funny and bordering on hypocritical when it comes to personal space. Phaedra has no qualms with getting up close and personal with or without their consent, usually out of intrigue or seduction, and occasionally in threatening circumstances. But unwelcome presences in her own personal space without permission will make her tense and potentially lash out, via word... or weapon.
Phaedra has a glib tongue. It is sharp and cuts through the bullshit. Her wit has the reflexes of a cat, and bites back whenever someone steps on her toes.
When faced with something she isn't prepared to handle, Phae tenses up and grows silent. It isn't often that things can take her by surprise, but when they do it blind sides her, leaving her frozen.
Even before joining the Courtesans, Phaedra has always been a pathological flirt. More often than not she has no idea she's doing it. But flirtation is different than seduction. One is a skill while the other is subconscious.

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[ x L I K E S x ]

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Beauty, in all its shapes and sizes. In Phaedra's eyes attraction does not discriminate for gender or race. She fancies what she fancies, and it all delights her.
Alcohol. The wonders of dulling one's emotions.
Dancing, a simple pleasure in a shit world.
Intimacy in all its forms. Not necessarily sexual, but the closeness of another or the depth of a personal conversation.

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[ x D I S L I K E S x ]

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Prejudices, plain and simple. A person should not be judged based on outward appearance but on their internal valor. Discrimination is distasteful even on the most beautiful lips.
Entitlement. Being born with a silver spoon up one's ass does not give them a divine right to be cruel to others.
Being outwitted. She hates it, but also secretly respects the accomplishment.
Most elves... They are everything Phaedra is trying to escape.


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[ x S K I L L S x ]

Asgarion Mithalvarin made sure that had the best tutors and training, this by extension included some physical as well. Dancing lessons, acrobatics and other things of the female sort. All boring in her opinion, but none the less it made her flexible, agile and light on her feet. She is quite and stealthy with her movements, able to avoid detection in most cases. But when faced with combat or a handsy drunk, Phaedra’s agility keeps her quick on her toes able to dodge most that comes at her.

Her proficiency with weapons is limited to knives and daggers, but with them she is highly skilled. It was a hobby of hers since a young age to spend her time alone in the stable, away from people, practicing throwing knives. With decades of practice, Phaedra has become quite the marksman with them. The daggers skill came later on with the help of Veela. Since Phae was already quick and agile, it didn’t take long for her to adjust her movements to compensate for a dagger in each hand.

Finding ways to exploit her speed and agility in a battle, she attacks or dodges. Phaedra knows nothing of defense or sword play to fight in a fair dual. Fighting in the shadows or an unexpected target is her safest bet. She is never found without a knife or dagger on her, but with one she could be deadly in the right circumstances.


[ x M A G I C x A F F I N I T Y x ]

Phaedra does not know much in the way of magic, nor does she particularly care to. There are a small handful of spells she has learned from her time in The Shadow Courtesans that aid her in her work, but that is it. These spells are illusionary based magic. She can disguise herself by changing her appearance from hair color, to more dramatic differences where she is unrecognizable. The greater the change the more focus it takes on her part. It is unknown, nor has she ever tried to impersonate someone else. It may be possible but the circumstance has yet to present itself. Other than that she can alter perceived reality of another person, but this is highly limited. Phaedra can only effect one person at a time and must be in physical contact with them. It takes a great deal of focus and depending on the duration of the spell of the level of the illusion, it can severely drain her.


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Phaedra has muscles, but would not be considered muscular. She can hold her own on most accounts, but her strength alone is no match compared to others.
Unless it is a knife or dagger, she has little to know skill. She would have better chances fighting with an arrow than trying to be an archer and swords are too heavy and large for her to wield to great effect.
Over her years away from Raes Ulin, Phae has grown to have zero tolerance for most things. Her fuse is short and she tends to be quick to anger.
As a Courtesan, there are many times where things don't go as planned. Because of this, she has adapted to think on her toes. This has made her impulsive in many ways, preferring to make things up as she goes


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[ x A R M O R x ]

Phaedra usually wears little to no armor. Being that she isn’t particularly strong, metal armor weighs her down and slows her movements exponentially. Instead she opts for more practical approach, wearing predominantly leathers. They don’t provide much protection, but they allow more flexibility and movement. Unlike metal armor, she can move about quietly and swiftly. So, where the metal would protect her in combat, the leathers allow her to dodge more effectively. Depending on the type of situations or combat, she may add minor metal plating to her shoulders, gauntlets and legs. But nothing too bulky or heavy.


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It’s difficult to pinpoint what exactly compromises Phaedra’s wardrobe when her occupation has her dawn different personas on a regular basis. What she wears could range from the rags of a kitchen wench, armor of a warrior all the way up to fine silks of the wealthiest nobles. But on the rare occasions where she has the opportunities to be her true authentic self, she tends to be fairly plain in comparison to her alter egos.

Still a Courtesan above anything else, Phaedra’s clothing accentuates her figure, regardless of being simple. She can be found often times in snug leather pants and knee high boots. A loose fitting tunic is her shirt of choice, breezy, non-constraining and comfortable, but hardly appropriate in the company of others. Phae will usually accent it with a basic leather corset and adorn herself in belts and fingerless gloves. Also, permitting the weather or job, she may wear a cloak.

Phaedra would prefer to avoid formal attire all together, but even in her profession that isn’t always an option. In her opinion, if she is going to do it then she’ll go all the way with it. Her gowns have tight bodices made of silk that fan out slowly from the hips. A cloak like shaw leaves her shoulders and neck exposed, but flows behind like a veil. And she accessorizes with ornate jewels and bobbles along her neck, in her crimson locks and even on the tips of her leaf shaped ears.


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Unlike most others, Phaedra has a habit of traveling light. Aside from her weapons and a small leather pouch that rests on her hip, adhered to her belt, she carries nothing else. Inside the pouch she only keeps what she considers the basics: a coin purse for her gold, flint and steel (as to not dull her knives) and a flask of water.


[ x P R I M A R Y x W E A P O N x ]

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Fang & Talon
dual wield daggers
12 in
1.2 lbs each
Purchased from an Orcish war band, the daggers were a score from a successful raid. Their maker and precise origin is unknown other than they are elven made, and presumably come from Rinarwin. They’ve also been modified with leather for a better grip, smaller blades for the pommels and charms off the handle of personal significance. She also had a custom holster made that holds the daggers against the small of her back.


[ x S E C O N D A R Y x W E A P O N S x ]

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throwing knives - a dozen total, 6 six housed in a holster on each thigh
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Acquired by trading with a human vagrant merchant shortly after she left her home in Raes Ulin. Origin is unknown, but assumed to be of human make.


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Phaedra keeps several other blades on her person for convenience or back up. There is usually one in either boot, two or three small knives tucked under a strap on her corset, and two extra, lower quality throwing knives in her small pouch. All are of varying make and quality, often acquired in markets or stolen from targets while on the job.


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[ x R E L A T I O N S x ]

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Morak Craghold x››





Randir Craghold x››
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Vonmyr and his mother had a very close relationship since he was a young boy. It was always said he looked more like her rather than his fiery headed brothers and father, and even in personality he took after her. He had her compassion, but also the passion and fire Brokka was known for. And even though Von has not seen his family for the better part of a century, but unbeknownst to them, he's remained in contact with her, exchanging letters frequently.
Not only is he the head of the family, but also the head of their clan’s branch within the merchant guild. He was a distant, cold and harsh father who made his sons follow in his footsteps with the family business. While Morak and Randir were exceptional sons, Vonmyr left something to be desired in his father’s eyes, making their relationship strained and estranged.
The first born and eldest son to Harmiir and Brokka, Morak followed strongly in their father’s footsteps. He quickly took up the mantle of the merchanting business when he came of age, allowing himself along with Randir and Vonmyr to run things. Similar to their father he was a course man, somehow more harsh to Vonmyr than there father but with less stable morals.
Randir was always the balance between Morak and Vonmyr, taking the best qualities of both of their parents. He was a kind soul that tamed his older brother Morak, while being compassionate toward his younger brother. More than Vonmyr and his brother, Randir was destined to do great things if his life weren’t brought a swift and abrupt end.


[ x O C C U P A T I O N x ]

Some call him a smuggler, others a thief, but Vonmyr prefers the term procurer. With his connections to the Merchants Guild before his disassociation, he got a mind for business, supply and demand. But instead of working within the guild, with their harsh rules and tainted merchants, Vonmyr set up his own business. He runs his work mostly from within the Flea-Beard Inn located in Kurz’Bol. With an established network, Vonmyr can obtain anything and everything someone were to ask of him… For the right price. Be it an exotic animal, one of a kind stone or things of the less than legal sort... But no slaves.


[ x O U T L O O K x O N x L I F E x ]

Vonmyr has a realistic view on life most days. He sees all walks of life with the work he does, honorable people with dark secrets, desperate people, evil people… For many of them life is short, too short and they grasp to what they need or want, all the while Vonmyr profits from it. He doesn’t even get desire from it, but it is what he knows. As the days tick on, his own self preservation seems less… valuable. He sees the value in the lives of others, the good and pure in the horror that is their world, but those aspects are lost on his own self value.


[ x H I S T O R Y x ]

In the beginning of Vonmyr’s life, all he knew was the Dûrg-Bekari Kingdom and the dwarven lifestyle. He knew of elves, orcs and humans but they were little more than myths to those who spent their whole lives on the isles and the Craghold Clan was no different than every other Dwarven family in the kingdom. Their family was part of the Merchants Guild, one of the smaller organizations in Dûrg-Bekari considering how little they interacted with the outside world. It comes as no surprise that it’s difficult having merchants when leaving the Kingdom is really an option, not if you wished to return.

Harmiir Craghold made sure his sons knew their role in the guild since they were old enough to talk, training them to take of the helm of the business when they were old enough. Much to Brokka’s disagreement, he took his sons on the trade routes when they had their sea legs, testing them on the ways of their ships, the ports around Dûrg-Bekari, and the way of life within the kingdom. Morak and Randir in particular, were the ideal pupils while Brokka kept Vonmyr home longer than her husband would have cared for, hoping to steer him down a different path. But eventually, just like with his brothers, his father got his way and Vonmyr too was taken aboard.

It was a good life, in the Cragholds’ eyes. They got to see the light of day while they worked rather than mining deep with the earth. Their skin was sun kissed not covered in dirt and their hands were strong and able, but not heavily calloused like smiths. Not only that, but the merchants tended to be the wealthier of the Guilds because they did what others in Dûrg-Bekari didn’t wish to do, which was interact with foreigners. But trade is essential for good commerce and to obtain goods not found on the isles.

They would travel along the southern cities and ports gathering gems, runes, Dwarven smithed weapons and armor, along with other goods set to be exported from the Kingdom. Then they would sail to the smaller isles to the west where they would meet an envoy from Vesia, with whom they’d exchange goods for imports or gold. Of course, the foreigners never stepped foot on Dûrg-Bekari soil. So trading would take place cast out from the docks by either tying the ships together to travel safely between, or sometimes even exchanging ships. And then once the exchange was complete, the Craghold’s would sail back to Narghost and do it all once again a month later.

When Harmiir had past his peak and the brothers were of age, the Craghold was passed down to Morak, Randir and Vonmyr. The eldest, Morak, quickly took charge of the business while the others worked as deck hands, body guards or whatever else he wished them to do. Their older brother didn’t seem to respect their equal share in the job or the skills they had to offer, but neither Vonmyr or Randir paid it much mind, happier to sped time among the rest of the crew than with their over bearing brother. This situation worked, for a time…

A decade or so later, Vonmyr and his brothers were taking a ship to the envoy point near the isles on the western part of Dûrg-Bekari. Knowing they were a few hours out, Von went below deck to double check the manifest when he heard a sound below in the hold. When he went to go investigate he found a door hidden behind crates marked “Captain Only.” Behind that door, Vonmyr found several, if not dozens of men and women chained to the sides of the boat, sitting in their own piss and shit, emaciated, without food or drink. Dwarves, humans, elves, orcs and everything in between.

Vonmyr was shocked, horrified… But mostly pissed. He stumbled up to the deck and confronted Morak as sword point. He knew he was no match for his older brother, but he was blinded by rage. The eldest claimed their father kept the truth from them because he knew how they’d react, and that was how the Cragholds’ became wealthy, yet refused to say where he got the slaves or where they were going. Randir went to see for himself before taking his place in front of Vonmyr, telling him to go free the slaves. Morak and Randir were evenly matched. Von didn’t like leaving them alone, but he did as his brother said and made his way to the hold and release the slaves as quickly as he could manage.

He returned to the deck in time to see Marok’s axe come down on Randir’s shoulder, nearly slicing him in half before shoving his brother from the ship. In a fit of rage, Vonmyr rushed at his brother but was quickly overpowered and sent to the ground with a dagger in his side. It would have been the end of him, but the freed men and women came to his aid. Several were cut down before they were able to throw Marok from the ship. Von had half a mind to let his brother drown out at sea alone, but instead wanted him to live with his guilt. He lowered a dinghy into the water then took the helm and directed the ship elsewhere… anywhere but back to Dûrg-Bekari.

For months Vonmyr sailed around the world, returning the slaves to their homes with a share of whatever goods were on the ship. Some went, but more stayed at his side as crew and friends. He abandoned his family name, tarnished by his brother and father, and took up a new name given to him by his men. For decades they went from land to land taking odds and ends jobs, building their reputation up from the ground and accumulating their own wealth. And when the time was right, he returned to Dûrg-Bekari… smuggled in with his Dwarven mates at his side, while his non-Dwarven companions settled at a nearby port in Vesia.

Vonmyr used the money he saved to buy a Kurz’bol inn near the docks, the Flea-Beard Inn. From there he used his reputation and vast network throughout Dûrg-Bekari, but more importantly, his friends in friends that awaited his word in Vesia to acquired whatever he requested, their loyalty rewarded beyond compare. Although a lot of the dealings he was active in may blur the lines of legal or not, slavery was always out of the question. Instead working to buy slaves and free them to their homelands or to work in his employ for a handsome rate.

So begins...

WIPPP's Story