The Characters

Post a link to your sheet here, along with a general description of your character, including what they look like, what they're like as a person and why they're so awesome in spite of living in a world of heroic tier characters. This would be a good place to establish how your characters know each other, Secret and anybody else you like too. (The Sanctuary is small enough that everyone sees each other on a regular basis).
I'll be updating this with other characters who you meet and some of the people left at the sanctuary once you guys have posted.

For now, some mini-descriptions of shelterfolk to give you some idea of how your characters might fit in:

Shelterfolk- Most of the people left are tough, but ordinary. There are kids, peasant mothers, carpenters and farmers. They mostly scrape by without complaining and get on with whatever needs to be done. That's why they're alive.

Prince Enninvrael- Illegitimate son of Aurora, the evil snow queen of the Feywild. When his mother took her own life his siblings fought each other and their subjects for control of more than half of the plane. Having no taste for war, he hid in the mundane world and is unable to return, since the whole Feywild has frozen over in his absence. He might be the rightful faerie king now, but it's hard to be sure. He arrived with a trio of carriages which have now become bedrooms.

The Changelings- These strange beings never seem to decide on names and frequently swap appearances and mannerisms. They're among the most valuable resources in the world, because they can breed with any fertile humanoid and are known for their inability to form long term emotional attachments. Many shelterfolk are the last known members of their race. The only problems are that nobody can tell them apart and at least most of them are really annoying.

The Kobold Resistance- Not having anything to resist any more, Fynn's troops have stopped being quite so violent and now do things like wash clothes, help pick the mushrooms that will provide sustenance for the shelterfolk until they run out and quietly discuss who to eat first when long pig goes on the menu. There are only 4 of them left. They're quiet and shifty and they don't socialise much with the local kobolds, but they work hard.

Shyndra- A rare claustrophobic kobold and former member of Fynn's personal guard. Is both a rogue and a storm sorcerer. Known for being completely unflappable and always seeming kind of sleepy. Turns out she's got feelings for Fynn; she told him so recently, in case he didn't come back.

Lindel- A drow who escaped from the underdark a long time ago. He surfaced half way across the world, where he spent years in a monastery atoning for his various sins. He owns only a robe, a mostly destroyed and thoroughly useless sun-hat, a bamboo stick, a wooden bowl and a flaming fullblade called Mother Fucker. If you have the dungeonearing skill, much of your knowledge probably came from him. He'd go with you, but he'd have a breakdown if he tried going back there.

Pharrammurinion- A devil. It's arguably impossible for a devil to reform, but he's probably as close to it as one has ever been. He will openly admit to being a self serving bastard but feels no need to be nasty about it. Runs The Society of Unrepentant Bastards and spends a lot of time playing chess, hanging around with the handful of paladins in the Shelter and having good-natured theological debates. Spends the nights chained to his alter to Asmodeus, at his own insistence, just in case he gives in and kills somebody. Has become a good friend of Secret because they both found devoting themselves to a dark god somewhat limiting as far as their social lives were concerned. People have got far more used to them since.

Gurn- A seemingly invincible dwarf. He's been seriously wounded countless times and apparently not been slowed down. He's far from pretty and has become handy with his fists and an axe as a result of long years of people trying to kill him. Widely regarded as the most boring person left alive, at least until you make him angry, at which point he's anything but. While at the shelter he's taken a punch in the nose from a gauntlet wearing paladin of Kord, captured by the local kobolds, "accidentally" kicked by a satyr, lost a very nasty fight with one of the bugbears, fallen in a pit trap, rolled down the stone staircase into the cellar (he claims Secret pushed him, she claims he fell), been left outside over night for a joke by a couple of the gnomes and had a carriage fall over on him. Aside from the stairs thing, he barely seems to have noticed, and even that didn't seem to hurt him much, he just insists it was attempted murder. Claims to have been raised six times and that the gods are all bastards who have got it in for him, but he's having the last laugh. Unlike most dwarves, he won't wear a helmet, claiming that none has been made that can cope with the punishment. Rumour has it that his head is a funny shape.

The Society of Unrepentant Bastards- A group of people who would probably be regarded as dangerous menaces to society were it not for the fact that it's in everyone's interest to work together right now. The members formed it as a joke, but there's a genuine sense of team spirit between those shelterfolk who's past actions or lifestyles make others wary of them. Members include Pharrammurinion, a bugbear, Secret, one of Fynn's kobolds, one changeling at a time (it's doubtful it's always the same one), a paladin of the raven queen and a few others. Lindel and Enninvrael are honourary members, because while they have all the same reasons to join as the others, they are repentant bastards. Pharrammurrinion claims they will be spared when the society blows up the planet, but they won't be allowed to participate.

GM edit: He made a pretty picture. Lookit. http://www.mediafire.com/?ghjdmm4womj

http://www.dndonlinegames.com/profiler/view.php?id=9534

Fynn, kobold wizard of doom, frost, and occasionally cupcakes.
He grew up in a kobold clan, their den hidden in a series of hills alongside a major human country. Given his natural intelligence, yet general desire to go with the flow, he took up wizardry rather than the clan's usual magical profession of sorcery. All was well and good, until the humans decided to expand a bit, and needed some assurances that trouble would not emerge in their new acquisitions. Such assurances were cut with blades and cooked with shredded kobold.
Not taking this too well, Fynn took up the survivors, and proceeded to wage a guerilla war against the nearby humans, thus ironically providing the threat that was trying to be avoided. Over time, he expanded his power until his force was a capable match for the humans in skill, if not in size.
6 years passed this way, and then the world decided to end, being a right jerk and messing up everybody's plans for an epic final battle. Since then, Fynn has lead his troops around looking for proper shelter, moving when conditions become too bad. By the start of the game, he's found Sanctuary, though his lieutenants are either missing or dead, and all that remains of his once proud "resistance" is a couple of level 1-3 rogues and sorcerers.

Physical Description: Short, tarnished silver scales. Yellow beady eyes that are clearly up to something, especially with the lights out. Good with capes, but can't do a beret. Currently wears an open chest set of robes, which he claims he picked up off a halfling warmage who made the mistake of helping an enemy paladin troop in their fight. Not very strong, but still has a worn out old pack stolen from a human arcane university, which aids him greatly in carrying implements of destruction both large and heavy. He tries to pawn it off to other people to carry for him, though, as it's sized for bigger folk.
Mental Description: Impressively smart, but tends to look down on others who don't share his super-koboldian intelligence. Several years of fighting have honed his ability to get out of the way of sharp pointy objects, but he's still rather lazy, and only really waged war because of old hatreds and the thrill of the fight. He jumped at the opportunity to head down into the dungeon, as it's far more fun than chilling around in Sanctuary. Has an odd habit of snapping his fingers for emphasis. Prefers his enemies done medium-well, with a bit of salt if such luxury is available. Rather creeped out by slimy creatures and objects.

Skills: Not completely squishy, though his defenses need work compared to the rest of the group. Fast, and can slip through enemy lines, though he'd prefer to stand back and freeze people from behind the walking tin cans, not out in front with the shishkebabs in his face. Has a knife, but it's mainly for utility purposes, as well as gutting someone who's not fighting back. Good at area of effect damage, and comes with a large supply of utility spells useful for the dungeon. Has a large amount of rituals, but is hard up for cash, and lacking in materials(aka, needs money from other characters, so decide if there's any in there you'd like to buy stuff for). Focuses on Arcana, Diplomacy, Dungeoneering, Insight, and Stealth, but has passable amounts in most skills, due to Jack of All Trades and high stat bonuses in skills that aren't trained. He's straight up bad at Athletics, Bluff, Intimidate, and Streetwise.

And there's a Fynn. As said in the blurb, take a look at his rituals, see which ones you wanna throw money at. I has 30gp left, which is enough for a few, but we'll probably want more.

She was brought up in a secluded tribe of Razorclaws in a high, snowy, mountainous region. Her people dwelt in caves, but because of her sight, she was chosen to apprentice to the tribes shamanic medicine man. She knew little of life outside the village.
Once trained as far as possible by the old shaman, he sent her out into the world, to learn of all the miriad forms of life and society that people the World. She travelled far, but always in her heart, she yearned for the snow laden pine forested mountains of home. Eventually she returned, recieving accolades for her adventures and heroic deeds. The old medicine man was dying, and she took up his totem to become the spiritual leader of her people.
Then the disaster struck.
She, with the few of her tribe that survived, took to the caverns deep in the mountain, as seemed the safest haven to cave dwellers. But this cave went on and on. They travelled for many months, living off what suplies they brought with them, and then, the strange lichens and small underground creatures they came across.
Finally they came upon the settlement. Many might say it was luck, a happy coincidence, that they took the right twists and turns in the labyrinth. But the tribe folk knew the great spirits had led them through thier new leader. The spirits too would take shelter here, in this last bastion of life. The people settled as best they could, and Talon made a strong repuation for herself with the different races of the shelter, through healing and advising on all manner of disputes and dilemmas. But she could not truely settle. The old man's wisdom always stayed in her heart. To maintain the balance of nature, to restore the cycle of life,death and rebirth, to save that which could not save itself. The World was almost dead. It needed her. But how could she effect such a change? Her powers were nothing in the face of such a challenge.
Then, one day, she heard the name of a girl, Secret, and hope was kindled in her heart...

She has black messy hair and green eyes, and shifted, turns rather like a panther (except with a cuter nosey). She wears a big bear skin cloak over leather armour and peculiarly ornate boots. She is caring and wise, but can seem aloof and distant at times.

Theorid Donmae was born to an elven woman and a wandering priest of Erathis in a small village that you've probably never heard of. After three years, however, his mother left the group, for reasons neither of the males ever understood.

Walking the world beside his father, Theorid grew up learning the rudiments of the tenets of the Goddess of Cities, though he preferred the visceral melee to the distance healing his father favoured, learning to dual-wield the mace as he and his father did whatever they could to help the weak and the downtrodden, and to empower civilization wherever they went.

And then the cataclysm struck.

Harried and panicked, caught in the open, it was by sheer chance that Theorid and his father made it to Sellendelline's Shelter - almost as though Erathis Herself guided them - Her last miracle, people would come to say in later days. Sadly, the wounds and illness Theorid's father suffered during the first few days of the cataclysm proved too much for him, and the noble man passed away.

Resolute in his heart to uphold his father's memory, Theorid spent the next few months studying Erathis' tenets perhaps more completely than he ever did on the road, and exposed to the remnants of the faith in the Shelter he grew more and more powerful, completing his own initiation as a battle-priest. Nevertheless, the visceral, violent nature of his fighting style remains strong, he in battle almost leonine in his ferocity.

Since the cataclysm, Theorid has served as counsel and sentinel for the Shelter and its inhabitants, easily ingratiating himself with the varied survivors thanks to his talent, as a half-elf, for diplomacy. As one of the few who has any extensive knowledge of the tenets of Erathis, he has found himself often mediating disputes to maintain the Shelter's stability, as well as being first to defend it against what raiders survived the cataclysm without reaching the Shelter.

The arrival of one such band of raiders - kobolds - was fortunately resolved without bloodshed, the ragtag group coming under the Shelter's shield, but Theorid has nevertheless kept a wary eye on Fynn, the leader of the group.

As for Talon, bringing her people to the Shelter, the Half-Elf feels some sort of familiarity to her thanks to their shared link to nature - scoured away though life may be from the world.

With Secret's revelations, Theorid has appointed himself her personal bodyguard, as the strongest and second-most-talented healer in the Shelter. He will leave it to the few students he has trained as warriors to maintain the Shelter's security while he undertakes this fraught mission to, he hopes, save the world.

Description
Theorid is of average height and narrow shoulder, though his slenderness belies a wiry strength not to be underestimated. His hazel eyes are, by turns, gentle and warm or fierce as a lion's, and he has black hair (tinged with mossy green, as clear a mark of his elven heritage as his tapered ears) worn long in a ponytail. Under the grey-blue tabard of Erathis' priesthood, a holy symbol of the Goddess stitched onto it, he wears black bronze scale armour. Other than the paired maces held secure by the crimson sash about his waist, he also wears a battered, ancient-looking silver bracelet on his left arm. In the Shelter he is pretty much always seen fully armed and armoured, the better to be a source of inspiration to the survivors of the cataclysm. His gear is well-kept, almost meticulously so. To those who have earned his trust, he is a fierce protector and a kind-hearted confidant, always eager to assuage concerns and heal wounds.

He goes by the name Bloodmane, not one of his own creation, but a name given to this so called beast due to the colour of his mane. His actual name is long forgotten, whether bloodmane himself even knows it is doubtful.

Born on the surface some 3 decades ago, it has been almost as long since Bloodmane entered the Underdark not long after. His home burnt to the ground and clan slaughtered whilst he was still a child, why? because most consider Minotaurs feral beasts who only live to maim and destroy. If any others from his clan survived the brutal attack by an army who deemed THEM monsters, Bloodmane knows not. Perhaps somebody in that army had the heart not to kill a child, though perhaps death would have been preferrable to a life as a slave in the underdark.

Enduring years as slave to a variety of different slave masters, each as cruel as the last. Humans, Drow, Dwarves, it mattered not to Bloodmane, his hatred for almost all life boiled up inside. Taunted through his life, monster being one of the 'kindest' names used. He was only kept from exploding with rage by a fellow slave, a human woman, who told tales of what the surface world was, neither of them knew what it had become now.

She was killed by the slavers, the reason is not known, perhaps she grew weak and was no longer of use, but Bloodmane could take no more, he knew truely who the real monsters were. He broke free of his shackles, heroic feats of strength mustered up from the drive to escape and to survive. He gored the first and trampled the second. Then, wielding for the first time a Greataxe, his weapon of choice since, he escaped his life of slavery, and vowed that he shall survive at all costs.

For the years since he has been a wanderer amongst the Underdark. A veteran of many battles, no reason to fight except the fires inside him driving him on to survive. He tought himself to wield a greataxe to a level far beyond most, Minotaur or otherwise, though he occasionally gives in to his inner rage, manifesting as a fiery wrath. Life in the Underdark is tough, and you must be tough to survive. Nowhere in particular to go, nobody to go with, nothing it seems to live for. However, he shall never forget that human girl, and he shall never forget the stories of the surface.


http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=194563