Name: Isaura Selwin
Age: 38
Gender: Female
Species: Human
Ethnicity: Serenian
Height: 5'8"
Occupation: Philanthropist, Sorceress
Residence: Zantaric


Physical Description
Isaura Selwin is a statuesque woman with fair skin and long, red hair down to her waist. Her features are flawless, unnaturally so, leading some believe she uses glamor to stay beautiful.

Lady Selwin favors fine silks, and loose, comfortable garments of the Serenian style.


Personality
Lady Selwin is polite and reserved, a stickler for rules and etiquette. She surrounds herself with magic, beauty, and luxury. The price she paid for such splendor, however, has left her bitter and unable to truly enjoy it. She has quite a temper as a result.

Above all else she prefers to keep up appearances.


Magic/Abilities
By touching a wizard, or marking them with her sigil, Isaura is able to absorb their magic and use it as her own; stolen power will remain with her until used up. She is able to siphon from a marked mage within one mile of herself. A marked mage can recover their power by destroying the brand or running far enough away. She also has some skill with daemon summoning, a last resort.

Lady Selwin founded the Sunset Vale Home for Wayward Children. Many of the orphans were once magically gifted...

Isaura is educated, and well-versed in language and etiquette.


Relationships
An imp named Thistle is her familiar.


History
Isaura was born to a prominent mage family in Serendipity. Her parents were renown academics, and her brothers mage-knights, court wizards, and tutors. Isaura was born with no such powers and struggled to master even the simplest cantrips. Her parents were content simply to marry her off where she would live a life of comfort, but Isaura wished to be a mage, she hungered for it. She spent her youth and inheritance in pursuit of forbidden knowledge. And made a terrible bargain allowing her to take the power she so coveted.

The Order of the Moon discovered her activities and moved to arrest her. She consumed one of the mage knights, and made short of the others with stolen pyromancy. Her family held enough sway to avoid execution, but she was forced to go into exile.

Isaura has since founded the Sunset Vale Home for Wayward Children in Zantaric. She now lives the life of a respectable Lady.


Current Threads
Urchins - Lady Selwin acquires a pair of new charges...


Complete Threads
-

I'm looking for plots and family members for House Wyndham, a mage-sympathizing noble house during the Connloathian civil war. The general premise is they are a small, backwoods noble family from a remote valley in Ahjfeld who have remained culturally isolated from the rest of Connlaoth. They're seen as backwards by most, and in secret they worship fey and harbor numerous magical bloodlines.

After Harmond marched through the Duchy they are on the move, using banditry and fey curses to seize land, conscript mages, and menace loyalists to the Grand Duke. The idea is to carve out a province that tolerates magic, resorting to dark and unseemly and powers (and maybe a little blood sacrifice) to defend itself from Mordecai.

So far I've made Wylie who is the inexperienced head of the household. It could use other family members, men-at-arms, or servants. I'm looking for rustic types with a creepy undercurrent: a mad cousin who wandered into the woods, vanished for 10 years, and returned not a day older but with the power to animate trees; the old midwife who uses her powers to send pox and blight to rival villages; or a grizzled hunter who wants to show those waist-coat wearing dandies from Reajh what's what. Good inspiration might be the Boltons or Reeds from a Song of Ice and Fire, Hjaalmarch from Skyrim, the Wicker Man, or the Lottery by Shirley Jackson.

I'm open to almost anything in-terms of plots. Some ideas I had were:
-Negotiating alliances with other families from Ahjfeld.
-Conscripting mage-refugees.
-A grand duke loyalist dealing with banditry and blighted land.
-Slice of life roleplay with vassals or family members

It was midday and the locals were filtering into the Last Hearth. Kai idled in a nearby field, chewing the grass.

Though he could become human for an hour or so each day Kai was learning how difficult it was to keep track of possessions when you spent most of your day as a jackass. Still, he'd managed to arrange a few chores with the innkeeper, Old Rubin, in exchange for a stall. Better than he expected for a naked young man who smelled like a mule. Still, life in La'marri was not what he wanted. He needed to return to Serendipity and the road through Darconi Forest was no place for a lone jackass.

He needed a traveling companion.

During his brief stint as a human boy Kai remembered a fire-haired haired youth who's always play outside the tavern. Zekel. That was his name. With nothing to lose, really, the donkey trotted around front of the tavern. Sure enough Zekel was there, strumming his mandolin for a small crowd of midday drinkers. Kai waited until he finished.

"You there. Zekel, right? Heard you were heading west."

Ewan glowered at his spell book through the iron bars of his cage. It sat beside the Fat Coachman and maddeningly out of reach. If he could just reach it he'd be able to kill his captors and escape, but the bars were too thin and it was no use. The boy passed the pair in the Draconi Forest and was grabbed the moment his back was turned.

As far as cages went it was passably comfortable. There was enough straw and blankets to ward off the cold, but the mountain road was quite bumpy. From what Ewan overheard his captors were selling mage-children to a buyer in Zantaric. The Fat Coachman and Crooked Wizard didn't speak to him beyond offers of food and water. They didn't like the boy much. He bit the Fat Coachman and spat insults at the rest, at least until they switched his backside and threatened to burn his book. He'd been mostly calm up until now, certain there'd be surely ample opportunity to escape whomever was buying him. Most people tended to underestimate him after all. Still, Ewan was beginning to grow apprehensive.

On the fourth day they crossed the plains and made it into the Terrin Mountains. Scrubby plants and pine-barrens dotted the foreboding slopes. The slavers stopped, midday, on a ledge overlooking the Adelan woodlands. They waited for several hours. The only thing more boring than sitting in a moving cage was sitting in an unmoving cage. They were bored too, and didn't even complain when Ewan whistled a bawdy tavern song he knew as an adult.

The sound of cracking twigs announced a newcomer. It was a Connlaothian man with a scarred face, a Mordecai judging by his tarnished breastplate, leading a horse; a girl slung over its saddle. She was bound and unconscious, about Ewan's age and height. The Fat Coachman and Crooked Wizard offered gruff greetings, ribbing him on how long it took. His name was Harlan. The girl was deposited in the cage alongside Ewan and the door slammed shut. "Keep quiet back there, yeah? No sniffling," the Fat Coachman sneered before driving the wagon onward. They were roughly an hour from the gates of Zantaric.

He crawled toward the girl and nudged her awake. "H-hello?"

So its my understanding Fell's curse is a pretty serious deterrent from journeying to the region. Its permanent and sticks to anyone with magical power. Going off previously answered questions psionics, immortal magic, and certain biological abilities are exempt from this.

When it comes to things like alchemy or a spell someone might, for example, learn from a book... what makes a mage exactly? Would not using any of those materials while in Fell make you effectively a 'mundane person' thereby demon magic doesn't stick to you?

Thanks!

The stone cottages and thatch-roofs of La'marri were a welcome sight for Ewan. The boy had spent a year in Kishahn and months at sea. His tanned skin and colorful loin cloth made him look a stranger in his home village. Looks from passersby only cemented that fact. He was on his way to see Meribald the of the Hedges. The crotchety old wizard lived in a windmill amidst a field of thorns and thickets. What he milled was anyone's guess; though he was an expert on Fell, faeries, and old magic.  Ewan earned more than a few scratches weaving his way up the path. The wizard answered, sour-faced, with a scratchy beard and weathervane atop his cap. "Go away."

"Meribald? Its me, Ewan. The one who turned himself young. You remember, yeah?"

Meribald snorted. "You're back I see. Had you enough of running about with little savages for the amusement of that fickle goddess?"

"Was almost fun for a bit. " The boy cracked a smirk. "Didn't learn what I wanted down there. No luck giving them eternal youth either. Its why I'm here. Grimoire talked about Cauldron belonging to some old King from Fell. Made him immortal; might be the missing piece!"

Meribald snorted, "You are in no condition to go exploring Fell. Be content you're healthy and fresh-faced after flummoxing it. Go tip a cow or paint a fence and leave me."

"You don't understand! If we find it we-" the door slammed in Ewan's face. Tiny fists pounded on it but to no avail. With a sigh of exasperation the boy trudged down the path, loitering contemplatively on a fence-post.

The Last Hearth was a rickity old farmhouse turned into a tavern. It sat on the very outskirts of La'marri, but was devoid of i'ts pastoral charm and subtle magic. It drew a rough crowd. Barbas the Bear, a great brute with an axe, lumbered inside and and made a B-line for the bar. Several rowdy-looking men in mail, and a veiled woman with an enormous grimoire who reeked of brimstone, followed. "Ewan!" he bellowed, drawing a scroll from his pocket to show the barkeep.

Old Rubin, a pot-bellied man with a limp (who gossiped like a fish-wife), ran the day-to-day. He studied the scroll and gave a snort. "The lad's round back. Mistake or a prank I'll wager, Barbas. don't think he's gonna be hiring anyone."

Barbas gave a nod and the adventuring party tromped off toward the stables. Moments later they returned, all snickering and raukus laughter. The warrior drummed the bar with his gauntlet, "Almost worth the story if we it wasn't an hour walk up this way."

"You'd be up here drinking anyway. Your lot ain't allowed to drink anywhere else," Rubin gave a wry smile. "Reckon it is our boy's fault you're up here. Round on the house for you lot. I'll have him work off the difference." Barbas gave a low chuckle rejoined his party at a corner table. The ragged scroll he'd showed Rubin was left on the bar. Many like it had been posted around La'marri in recent weeks:

It was a miserable ride from the foothills of Ahjfeld back toward Caelshire. The snows and feasting of midwinter were long over; the countryside was muddy, cold, and picked clean from the war. Wylie rode at the head of his entourage; two dozen or so.

It was a somber affair. They didn't take the White Lily Knight as alive as planned. Wylie gritted his teeth; still angry his highborn niece and nephew languished in the squalor of the mage camps. With proper soldiers he'd have the bitch caged. He'd use her as a standard the way pirates lashed captives to their rams. On the upside his retinue was intact by some divine mercy. Beneath the mail and boiled leather most were gawky and fresh-faced, or graying. The young lord couldn't help but feel pangs of guilt.

"Do you reckon-- should we make camp, m'Lord?" Osric murmured, trying to stifle a yawn. He was a malnourished farmhand tasked with carrying the Wyndhams' banner, twisted black tree on a green field. He pointed to a dilapidated shack on a hill. "Farmhouse up there."

"Defensible enough." Wylie replied softly, then turned to the gaggle of boys and old men. "We're camping for the night. Have trenches dug and spiked. Dangerous country." He supposed he should say something inspiring and aristocratic. The words didn't come.

The young Lord took Osric and ten others to scout the burned-out husk. Not even a rotted bale of straw remained.

In addition to working longer hours for the next few weeks, I need to work on getting into graduate school for the next few weeks. I don't think I can really post anything interesting or substantive. Sorry to those I've just started threads with, but things will be slow going for a while.

Life in Kishahn had its ups and downs. Eternal youth was easier amongst kids, where the boy was not so easily dismissed and pushed around. But Zyra's Haven was not quite a paradise; surviving the jungle was hard work. Ewan spent the morning picking fruit with three others. His knees were scraped and his arms were tired from shimmying up and down trees. The boy had just loosened a bunch of papayas, casting them to the forest floor, when he caught a glimpse of 'something' moving in the underbrush.

Ewan froze and hoped whatever it was didn't look up. His tanned skin might have proved effective camouflage against the tree bark, but the Children of Zyra insisted he be painted all manner of colors indicating gods-knew-what about his station, status, and perceived destiny. Being a sorcerer meant there had to be a bone through his nose, which was annoying and hurt like the hells.

From his perch Ewan make out a vaguely Avian shape in the brush and blinked. Judging by the gorgeous plumage it was a peacock, albeit one wearing clothes. Eager for a closer look, the boy crept along the bough of the tree. Not paying attention, the branch gave out under his weight and sent him tumbling to the forest floor with curse, "Ow! Agh! Damnit!" he groaned softly.

Name Narlis Thordane
Age 94 (middle-aged)
Sex Male
Species Dwarf
Ethnicity: Adelan
Height 4'8"
Occupation Commander of the Grimguts, oligarch, slaver
Residence Bleakwarren, a dwarven hold in the Thunderblacks


Physical Description
Narlis is thickly built, with ashen skin. His beard and hair, black and wiry, resemble the mane of some wild beast. He looks something of a bear stuffed into a suit.


Personality
Narlis is fierce, cunning and shrewd. The dwarf fights to win and savors the taste of victory more than material comfort; he'd sacrifice a fortune to see a worthy rival brought low. Though not entirely incapable of affection or joy, but Narlis entirely lost without battles to plan, slaves to steal, or foes to crush.


Magic/Abilities
Narlis is cunning, paranoid, and ruthless. The dwarf is always ready for an ambush, be it physical or political, and loves the thrill of intrigue.

In his youth Narlis worked as a mercenary, and is still a formidable warrior. He is skilled with the sword and axe, and loves to fight dirty.

Narlis has roughly two dozen mercenaries of the Grimgut Company under his command. Notable henchmen include:
*Athra, dwarf shieldmaiden and his right-hand woman; Narlis hates admitting he cares for her.
*Kolsk, dwarf marksman; mute and bibliophile.
*Toad, faeblooded sorcerer and slave-boy; bound to serve Narlis and very sour.


Relationships
--


History
Narlis was born in Bleakwarren, a dwarven hold nestled in the Thunderblacks. It was not a happy place, known to trade in ore and slaves with neighboring Adela. He was a rowdy youth prone to brawls and wanderlust. As the second son of a second son he had little standing in his family's affairs, and left to found the Grimgut Company.

The Grimguts are a mercenary band who are little more than bandits and slavers, easily swayed by gold or supplies (but never for too long). Narlis keeps them in check through his paranoia, cruelty, and an inner-circle just as mad.




Current Threads
--

Complete Threads
--

Niahi wood had remained largely untrampled by the clumsy feet of men. This was especially true in the old growth; not even the sidhe wandered there. The canopy of ancient trees left it black as night and it was the domain of ugly, crawly things the fey would sooner forget.  It held treasures as well as secrets: mushrooms which turned back ageing, troves of primordial amber, and spider-silk strong as steel. The King of Serendipity had begun financing bands of explorers to flush out its secrets.

Ellis hadn't much cared for the band he traveled with. They were a slovenly bunch and a hair away from turning to banditry. The alchemist took off to the woods alone while the camp tried to dislodge their supply cart from a web-covered pit. The woods seemed full of odd little snares that made progress slow and annoying. He was much more interested in spider eggs. The venom of the Niahi giant spider was quite potent in its ability to induce a comatose sleep without killing. Very handy. And so he set off with his pack and hunting sword, dutifully marking a trail.

The journey was largely uneventful. Ellis struck a sunstone to light the way, and most of the woodland beasts gave berth to the alchemical lantern. After an hour's walk the boy had no need of it; phosphorescent fungi lit the way. He took a slow pace, appreciating the alien beauty and  checking carefully for any signs of webbing. And then he found it.

***

The spider laired in a grove of petrified trees joined by a messy thatch of thick webbing. It twinkled green and blue in the light of the fungi. The spider herself was horse-sized; legs spanning 5-feet. The alchemist pacified her with dream salts (just barely. he'd surely have died if the philter hadn't taken effect). Ellis was free to help himself to the clutches of eggs. A half-dozen should do it; he could incubate them back in Serendipity. The young man felt a twinge of guilt over the egg-theft, though he was sure spiders didn't value their young as humans did. Did they?

A twig snapped behind him. Ellis turned.

Behind the alchemist stood a small figure. From the waist up it was a boy, pallid and emaciated; from the waist down a goat, black and shaggy. The faun was garbed in gossamer and bits of insectoid carapace. It was grim for a satyr. "Return what was taken, manling. Your trespass will be punished."

Ellis darted back in surprise, resting a hand on his blade and calmly dropped the sack of eggs. "Your spider, I suppose? I'd hate to steal if you want to... bargain." But the odd little shaman didn't seem the bargaining sort.

"You fight me not for riches? A queer thing!" Amusement danced across the faun's face as Ellis dropped his prize. The shaman stepped forward, sniffing the air. Ellis darted back. "Your nature is different. You'll do well."

Ellis gave a wry smirk. Letting his guard down. The spider-loving-goat-boy didn't seem keen on fighting. "Well I do like to stand apart. Prettier... smarter... I can't imagine your spider needs 'all' these eggs. Most won't survive I gather. If I can just offer--"

"Be still. There is a higher purpose for you" the little shaman stepped forward and placed a grubby hand on his chest. "Ortu vas!"

The world around Ellis became a haze. His body turned numb. The alchemist tried to reach into his pack for curative, or a poison, but his muscles refused to answer.

So I've been wanting to get my new character Wylie off the ground in the Connloathian civil war. I don't have any concrete ideas yet. I figured he might be running around Ahjfeld seizing land from the grand duke's supporters.

Would anyone want to play the occupant of a recently captured estate? Maybe a turncoat during a siege?

And if any other ideas come to mind, I'd be happy to hear 'em.

Name Wylie Wyndham
Age 27
Sex Male
Species Human
Ethnicity Connlaothian
Height 5'8"
Orientation: Heterosexual
Occupation Lord, Warlock
Residence Caelshire, a small fiefdom in Ahjfeld

Physical Description
Wylie is a handsome young man of average height with a lithe build. He's clean-shaven and meticulously groomed, with wavy black hair. His skin is fair, perhaps too fair, as someone whose spent much time indoors.

His garb is conservative and utilitarian; furs and a breastplate rather than finery. The Wyndham sigil is a white, bare tree on a green field.

Personality
Wylie is thoughtful and bookish, with a bitter sense of humor. Having assumed the mantle of lordship at such a young age he's quite unsure of himself. The lengths he's gone to ensure his family's survival have turned him broody and withdrawn. Though a reliable ally, his reputation for cruelty has won him few friends.

He's a stickler when it comes to tradition and a firm believer in noblesse oblige. Bred to rule, Wylie is fiercely protective of his family and subjects. Just the same, it is his right to decide who lives, and who dies, for the survival of the many.

Magic/Abilities
Wylie can summon and command faeries and daemons, bound to his service through strange and terrible bargains. This is immortal magic and cannot be suppressed by Mordecai or Adhara. Such summoning is chaotic, imprecise, and dangerous; liable to turn on Wylie's friends or inflict large-scale destruction. He can summon only one spirit, reflecting a specific aspect of nature, at a time.

Wylie is thoughtful and well-educated, especially on matters of history. He has taken a keen interest in Fell, the progenitor of both Connlaoth and Serendipity.

He is a 'passable' swordsman and hunter, as any lord had ought to be.

Relationships
Wylie has a younger sister, Winnifed, and two nephews by her who possess sorcerous talent.

Oswin, a gawky boy of 17, serves as his squire.

History
Wylie is the heir to House Wyndham. His family rules Caelshire, a small farming village nestled in a remote valley in Kilanthro. By all accounts their reign is quiet and prosperous - and a good source of crops in the rugged mountains. Just, so their subjects are close-knit and tight-lipped. The shadow of Fell looms over the village, and as long as anyone can remember there have been spirits in the forest, daemons much more real than Angsar, who provide lush crops, healthy children, and warm winters. Strangers might see them put on a show at the village chapel; but their faith lies with spirits they petition on moonless nights.

For centuries the Wyndhams have born the heavy onus of concealing Caelshire's practices, and their own sorcerous blood.

Wylie grew up a sickly and bookish boy, and in the shadow of a father who could hunt boar, command soldiers, and deliver swift justice to poachers. He was considered too gentle for such things. When his father passed he had no choice but to take command of the household. With the outbreak of the civil war he has taken a keen interest in recovery dangerous artifacts and forbidden knowledge from the ruins of Fell.




Current Threads
Wild Fires - Wylie searches for allies in his conquest of Ahjfeld...

Complete Threads
--

As I've combed through the profiles of new characters, I guess specifically those of more veteran SoTErs, I've noticed a handful of common races and magical practices not mentioned on the wiki. I was wondering if there's any concrete information or general consensus on the following:

Shifters
They seem to be humans who can turn into an animal at will (completely or partially) as far as I can tell. It seems some live primarily as humans, and some are primarily as animals. Are shifters a true species or more of a magical quirk some people inherit? Or is it something acquired later in life (via lycanthropy, a spell gone wrong, etc.?)

Geomancers
I've seen the word geomancy thrown around a few times. I've usually seen it in fantasy as having something to do with leylines and so forth. On SoTE is it correctto say it encompasses 'nature' magic? e.g. healing, conjuring vines, turning into an animal, etc.?

I apologize if these are addressed somewhere on the wiki. I couldn't find them via a search, but they seem to be common themes. Thanks!

Ainu

Ewan did feel a little guilty over the Wavethresher, though it was partially the captain's fault. The man kept badgering him to use his sorcery to conjure some apples. It worked fine. But, some of the apples carreid a nasty worm which made short work of the Essryni rugs due for Connlaoth. Suffice to say the was no longer sailing on the Wavethresher. He even resorted to tears (Ewan wasn't quite sure if it was an act to gain sympathy or real). The captain pointed him toward a man who paid children to collect shellfish and left him on the dock.

Yoreiqi, of course, did not pay in coins. A good meal and ripe mango was his reward. A taller boy had also taken a liking to his clothes and snatched them while he was in the ocean; kindly leaving behind a colorful loincloth. Private property was anathema in this strange communal isle; the concept of coinage new even to its most cosmopolitan port. The best Ewan could hope for was passage back to La'raana, he thought ruefully as he ate his mango in the corner of a groghouse.

A particularly eclectic, and rowdy, Le'raanian crew was drinking and dicing. From what little he could pick up of their boasting they planned to sail up the Tuor ocean near Niahi. Ewan didn't quite get the gist of what their cargo was (or that they were pirates) but it was at least a way back home.

Finding the ship amidst Ainu's sparse docks wasn't difficult. The boy just followed a smaller sailor who couldn't hold his liquor. The ship was the Poison Storm. It was a sleek and well-looked afer vessel. That was reassuring. By then the sun had set and the posted sentry, a great mountain of a man smothered in kraken tattoos, was busy giving one of the locals flirty looks. It wasn't hard for someone small and quick to scamper aboard.

After that it was just a matter of finding the store room. Surely the boy could find a hiding place and nick what food he needed. Or try his hand at conjuration. And if he were caught, well, he was just a kid. Surely they'd not throw him overboard while in transit! It hadn't occurred to him how fanciful his ideas about stowaways were. Nonetheless, Ewan found a suitable hidey hole behind some barrels of salted pork. He laid out a blanket and prepared for the journey back to Le'raana.

Name Kai Wilding
Age 20
Sex Male
Species Human, transforming into a donkey
Ethnicity Serenian
Height 5'6"
Orientation: Bisexual
Occupation Adventurer, formerly a squire
Residence Serenian

Physical Description
Kai is a handsome youth with delicate, fey features and a wavy mop of auburn hair. His fair skin is dotted with freckles. Teetering between adolescence and adulthood, he sports a slender body with just a hint of muscle. In his other shape Kai is a strong, young donkey with auburn fur and a ropy tail.

His garb tends to be stylish: embroidered waistcoats and silk tunics. In combat he wears a bronze chestplate emblazoned with his family crest, though much of his defense comes from charms and magic.

Personality
Kai is adventurous, quick-witted, and generous. At times he can be a petulant and stubborn with those who don't defer to his judgment. He loves magic and luxury though averse to the work involved in achieving either, and is easily tempted by short-cuts.

Magic/Abilities
A potent curse is transforming Kai into a donkey. He's able to briefly suppress it and appear human, for a time, but the curse always catches up with him. The transformation is able to regenerate wounds and his form seems always that of a young, healthy beast; any other magical transformations are purged in an effort to revert him to this new 'natural' form.

As a squire, Kai knows how to use a sword and fight in armor. Although not a proper mage he is able to bend existing spells in his favor, and carries a number of magical charms and trinkets. These include: a broadsword made of ice, bracers of stoneflesh, and a potion to make him appear human.

Relationships
--

History
Kai is the youngest of a small, yet very old, family of Serendipity. He grew up on a tiny ramshackle estate and was envious of children with prettier homes and less eccentric families. The boy was trained to become a mage-knight. Though Kai lacked the discipline for military life, natural talent and charms were able to carry him through.

He and several other squires were soon tasked with purging a barrow of evil spirits. The tomb belonged to the chieftain of a fey-worshiping tribe long since absorbed into Serendipity's peasantry. Twice an old sage appeared before Kai, begging for the barrow to be spared, and twice Kai refused him. On the third and final day the sage returned to court and revealed himself to be a faun, a genus loci who'd watched the Wildings' land for untold generations. The faun was furious at Kai's disrespect for his old followers, and decreed Kai should be cast down and made to work the land. Kai's britches ruptured on the spot and a ropy tale emerged. The faun fled.

The relics were returned, redemption was sought, gifts were offered, and wizards summoned, but nothing could halt the curse. His ears changed, and fur beginning to sprout, so Kai set off in search of a reversal...


Current Threads
Outlaw Country - Kai has his stuff stolen, but meets a new friend.
Curses, Foiled Again - Trying to break his curse Kai meets the outcast and cursed unicorn Areharis. The pair delve into the nature of divine curses, and his affliction only grows worse.

Complete Threads
--

Fifteen minutes ago Ellis had been fleeced by a cut-purse and a small fortune in gold snatched away. Getting back to Serendipity would be very difficult without it. Naturally, the mage changed part-way into a great cat to pursue the little thief; it seemed a good idea at the time. The hulking catman was quicker, but the thief knew Essryn's maze of alley ways. The chase ended when Ellis crashed into a pair of tiny shacks, once homes to slaves on some estate. That's when the guards came.

Clad in torn fingery Ellis stood backed into an alley way by three guardsmen guardsmen. Their cowled leader of had been a mage of some kind (likely dispatched to deal with the supernatural occurance) as he dispelled Ellis' shapeshift in the blink of an eye. "I am sorry. I was chasing a mugger," the mage held up his hands angrily in protest; he'd fight his way out if he had to.

"Five hundred, just for wasting our time. Not including the damage." The lead guard turned and barked for one of the spearmen to fetch the owner of the slave-quarters for an accounting of the damage.

Ellis cringed. As a foreigner in Essryn he didn't have much recourse to pay what was asked; of course there was one problem with that. He tried to stay calm. "I can gather more than enough to repair these shacks, and compensate your time of course. I don't have it on me. It will need to be sent."

"Can't pay but will. Heard that before."

"You're quite right. I will," Ellis tugged absently at his remaining sleeve, looking for something to use as a bribe.

"Last thing Essryn needs is mageling's run amuck. Solution's easy," the cowled man dipped his hand into a robe, producing a silver rod. Before Ellis could react the rod pressed into his shoulder, leaving a star-shaped brand.

The young man yelped in pain, drawing looks from several nearby slaves, filthy and shirtless as concessions to the heat, loading a wagon with textiles.

It was a bloody mess. In the middle of the road sat overturned cart and two carcasses, a sheep and a dog. A local midwife was tending  a concussed shepherd, and a large crowd of La'marran onlookers had gathered. Word was a horrible man-beast was behind the carnage. The shepherd said it was a shaggy thing with cloven hooves, sharp claws, and enormous antlers. Old Eustace said it was just a bear. All agreed it barreled out of the woods, mauled the dog, stole some sheep, and went stomping back in.

Rowan Morriswood, who owned the nearby farm and sheep, was having a miserable time trying to get the story straight. In the spirit of La'marri independence there wasn't much of an armed response, but some farmhands were standing about with longbows. They all looked quite nervous; everyone agreed the beast was big.

Ewan sat against the fence and watched it unfold from afar. The beast fit the description of a cursed spirit called the Wendigo. No one would let him get any nearer, and no one was much interested in facoids and myth. Ewan's stay in La'marri was turning out to be a disappointment: he was renting a room from Morriswood, but he ran out of money and was doing chores to pay for it; he was also having no luck binding the fey who gave him that stupid formula.

Amidst the chaos he could see two figures: an armored man, and a young girl in finery, walking down the road...

Lately I've been hungry for another thread or two for my characters. I've got a few vague ideas in my head... but if you've got any characters you think might mesh with mine let me know!

Ellis Hargrove - Sarcastic Serenian fleshshaper. Looking for another mage to do some crazy experiments with, or maybe a wilderness adventure to find some exotic monster so he can learn how to turn into it.

Ewan - A hedgemage, adept at dealing with fey and natural forces, who was turned into a kid while trying to discover eternal youth. A (real) kid might also make for a fun foil and companion. Maybe he could have some wobdrous misadventures with a fey character? Maybe a pirate has need for a cabin boy?