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Pirates of the Realms

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(This RP is based on the Forgotten Realms books with a focus on the Sword Coast of the subcontinent Faerûn. Here is a wikia to get you up to speed as well as a map of the area that will be the main focus.) {Ye olde Gods}

Introduction: Those who sail its waters call it the Sea of Swords, for long has the Sea of Swords been plagued by pirates who prey upon fishermen, merchants, and the arrogant nobles that stray too far from their escorts. Unfortunately, the pirates have started to become more ruthless, more daring. Now the burning wrecks of ships surrounded by the grotesque sight of the murdered crew are becoming more and more common. The Lords of Waterdeep have sent out a call throughout the Silver Marches, asking for brave adventurers to come to Waterdeep and help them combat the growing threat of the pirates. Adventurers have since been coming to the City of Splendors from as far as the great human cities of Silverymoon, Everlund, and even Sundabar in the east, to as far north as the frigid tundra of Icewind Dale. Even the elves of the Moonwood have answered the call. In preparation for their new pirate hunting fleet, the Lords of Waterdeep have commissioned the shipyards and the wizarding community to begin building more ships specifically to hunt down these pirates. By the time the first of the adventurers came through the gates, ships of all sorts were waiting for them, from the small, agile frigates and schooners to the large, imposing galleons and caravels. Will these adventurers succeed in their mission or will the blade of a pirate lay them low?



  • No god modding, power playing or modding in general.
  • Posts are to be at least four sentences long.
  • Spelling and grammar are important. No chat speak.
  • Keep language PG-13; swearing within reason is permitted.
  • Only two characters per RPer. Magical companions are limited to one per character.
  • Character sheets must be posted in the OOC.
  • No OOC comments in the IC, that's why there is an OOC.
  • No Mary Sues or Gary Stus and none of the Anti Mary Sues or Gary Stus either. This may be a fantasy RP but there is still a line.
  • Respect and courtesy is paramount! If there is a problem, be mature and settle it in PM or message me and we'll work on it.
  • If you are leaving for an extended period of time, let me know! A lot of RP's meet their untimely end because of people vanishing without a trace.
  • Do not kill off another player's characters without their permission.
  • No firearms.
Character sheet is as follows:
[B]Age:[/B] (Minimum: 18 for humans, 70 for dwarves, elves, gnomes, and 20 for halflings.)
[B]Class:[/B] (Warrior, Knight, Ranger, Shield Dwarf, Mage, Cleric, Sorcerer, Priest/Priestess.) 
[B]Personality:[/B] (i.e. How do your characters react to unfamiliar situations? How are they when they are left alone to their thoughts? Are there things that they aren't particularly good at?)
[B]History:[/B] (Optional)
[B]Pirate or Pirate Hunter or Merchant: [/B]
[B]Rank:[/B] (Captain, First Officer/First Mate)
[B]Ship Name:[/B]
[B]Ship Type:[/B] 
[B]Personal Flag:[/B]  Only Captains should worry about the Personal Flag.

Side notes: These are the kinds of ships available. If you have a ship in mind but it isn't here, feel free to pm me.

Frigate, 145 ft in length. 36.7 ft in width. One upper deck. A middle/bottom deck which is where the crew sleeps. 16 knots. 90-140 crewmen.


Schooner, 156 ft in length 36 ft in width. One upper deck. A middle/bottom deck which is where the crew sleeps and houses the supplies. 16 knots. 100-160 crewmen.


Man o' war, 256 ft in length 36 ft in width. One upper deck. A middle deck which is where the crew sleeps. Bottom most deck is for supplies. 16 knots 200-290 crewmen.


Windjammer, 482 ft in length total. 53.8 ft in width. One upper deck. A middle/bottom deck where the crew sleeps and also houses the supplies. 20 knots. 300-400 crewmen.


Galleon, 98ft to 164ft in length. 26 ft wide. 49 ft high above water. 2-3 decks. 15 knots 500 crewmen.


Caravel and Carrack. 98ft to 164 ft. 26 ft wide. 49 ft high above water. 2-3 decks. 15 knots. 500 crewmen.


All Pirate Hunters will start in Waterdeep so their ship will have a flag with the symbol of Waterdeep. Pirates can start from any island in the Moonshae Isles. Pirates need only their personal flag.

Edited by Epyon

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Setting of Faerun: Faerun is a continent that is about the size of the Afro-Eurasian (Africa, Europe and Asia) continent here on Earth, with terrain as varied. In this RP, we will focus more on the lands north of Memnon and the Calimshan kingdom and west of the Snowflake Mountains and the desert Aunorauch, which is bordered by the human and dwarf city, Sundabar. The entirety of the Western Coast and the lands between those borders can be used for this rp. Economically, Faerun is comparable to the mid to late Middle Ages of Europe. Technologically, the story is the same as in the mid to late Middle Ages, thus the rule of no firearms. In this world, however, gunpowder is known as a magical substance named smokepowder. It is very unstable, as it is just now making an appearance thanks to the Gondsman monks bringing it from the eastern continents. It is more likely to cause harm to the user than the target; on a ship that can be very bad. Socially, most of the population is loosely arranged in a semi-feudal system. Humans exist in this world, in addition to elves, dwarves, gnomes, halflings, orcs, various goblinoids, various giants, dragons, lizardmen and an exotic species named the qullan, though not much is known about them.


Waterdeep Harbor: The harbor of Waterdeep truly is a sight to behold. Ships from all the cities of the Sword Coast can be seen docking here, from the merchants of Luskan up north to the merchants from the Calimshan kingdom to the south. The stretch of the city that borders the harbor and dotted with an assortment of taverns and bars is named Dock Street. Sailors come to enjoy a night of food, drink, and story-telling with crews from other ships. It is here where the adventurers gather, recruiting each other and any volunteers onto their respective ships. Waterdeep.


Magic, both arcane and divine, is possible in this world and both are very distinct from each other. Arcane magic is used when the mage taps into a mystical field known as the Weave. Divine magic is made possible by the deities of Faerun, which have a fairly active role in the world. There was once a time where the deities were having a shift of power within the pantheon and the magic that comes from their presence became out of reach to their priests, priestesses and shamans. This time period was known as the Time of Troubles. In addition to this, there are other planes of existence such as elemental planes, planes of demonic origins, planes of angelic origins, and even a plane of light and a plane of shadow. Sorcerers, Priests, and Magi can summon denizens from these planes of existence. The most common and safest method is through a summoning circle, the effectiveness of which depends on how well the glyphs and runes are etched. If they are sloppily scrawled in, even a minor denizen of another plane can break through the circle and kill the summoner if it feels so inclined.

Edited by Epyon

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Here is some information on the playable races:


Humans: Of all the goodly races, Humans are perhaps the most divided and truly the most varied, for which they are renowned for. They are also the shortest lived with only a handful ever seeing a century's worth of winters. On the whole, Humans are fierce and disagreeable, which often causes the other races to view them with contempt. However, Humans have the potential of becoming great mages because of the sense of urgency that most Humans have, which is likely because of their significantly smaller lifespans as compared to the other goodly races. Although they lack specialization, they have the ability to excel in many areas. Unlike the other goodly races, Humans wage war more often on each other than against any other foe which ultimately leads to the rise and fall of many Human nations in the same span that an elf or a dwarf can rule their kingdom in peace. Humans, on average, can reach heights from 4'5" to 6' with a few also breaching 7'.


Elves: One of the longest living of the goodly races, Elves of all types are lithe, graceful, handsome and as tall as humans, with the taller elves rarely topping 6'. The most common of the Sylvan folk are the Moon Elves, Teu-tel-quessir as they are known in their own language. Moon Elves are by nature impulsive and nomadic, preferring to be on the road to travel or explore unknown or untamed areas between cities and nations while having a very strong distaste for complacency and isolation. Their extroverted quality is part of the reason Moon Elves are able to get along uncommonly well with other races. Unlike their brethren, who believe that mingling with the lesser or unworthy races diminishes or weakens them, Moon Elves instead revel in mingling with other races. Moon elves intermingle with Humans in particular, because of their belief that to strengthen and spread their culture is to interact with other races. However, Moon Elves typically have little tolerance for cruelty. Thus, they make natural enemies of goblinoids while many join in on their kin's hostility towards their dark cousins, the Drow. Culturally, most Moon Elves organize themselves into groups of a dozen or more extended families, each of which are then ruled democratically while also having de facto leaders whose say have greater influence. Otherwise, Moon Elves are loosely organized and prefer a nomadic lifestyle with few Elves staying in a single spot for more than a season or two. Moon Elves are generally comfortable living with other races of Elves, particularly Sun Elves, as well as with Humans, Gnomes, or Halflings. By nature, Moon Elves are lighthearted and peaceful, but if danger comes, they are quick to leap into action. Just like the other elves, or Eladrin, Moon Elves make certain that all within their number are trained in the use of a weapon, with many also having some skill in the magical arts.

Moon Elf adventurers are not uncommon, and their race have an innate wanderlust that strive to do good, or just to learn more of the world about them. Moon Elves altogether are individualistic and most of them sincerely believe that each person can change the world for the better or for the worse. As a result, they are altruistic and have good will towards others, thus the majority of Elven adventurers are heroes instead of villains, though both exist. Those Moon Elves who turn to the life of an adventurer often embrace the musical path of a Bard while yet more embrace the martial lifestyle of Fighters, Rangers, and Rogues or they study to become wizards or Swordmages (Spellswords). Those that dedicate themselves to their martial craft can become Arcane Archers and Bladesingers later on in life. Religiously, Moon Elves worship the Seladrine, the name of the elven pantheon, and most choose a single deity as their patron.


Dwarves: Dwarves, also known as the Stout Folk or the Bearded folk, are a short race (hence their name), being between 4'3" and 4'9" on average. However, what they lack in height, they make up for in bulk. Dwarves are very strong, tough, and muscled for their size, which usually has them weigh more than a fully grown human. Dwarves are a tradition-abiding race and are known for being master blacksmiths, courageous warriors, and fiercely loyal to clan and kin. It is not uncommon for one Dwarf to come to another Dwarf's aid even if it will cost that particular Dwarf his very life. The center for Dwarven life is kin and clan, in an age long passed. The Dwarves, particularly Shield Dwarves which are common in the northern part of Faerun, belonged to only three clans with the Delzoun clan at their core. It is this tight bond that is still seen even from two Dwarves of different settlements. Longevity wise, Dwarves typically live to be around 400-500 years of age if they can avoid sudden death from an enemy's weapon or from an explosion of natural gas within their deep mines. Dwarves are unusually tough for humanoids, often being compared to the stones of the mountain from which they carve their underground complexes and they are tough in more ways than one. A majority of poisons are ineffective against Dwarves and more than one foe has met their end for foolishly believing that they can incapacitate a Dwarf by whacking them on their heads. Because of their short, muscled bodies, Dwarves are very difficult to push around, in addition to being able to carry much heavier loads with such ease it would have other races gawking in astonishment. Typically, Dwarves are surly and gruff and generally are difficult to like. Indeed, most Dwarves lack the charm the other short races-such as Gnomes and Halflings- possess but some possess such a quality.

Dwarves value their traditions and, often times, they seek inspiration from ancestral heroes. Dwarven friendship is not easily gained and all Dwarves are suspicious and dour towards others outside of their family and often will only give their friendship when the outsider proves their goodwill many times over. However once gained, a Dwarf's friendship is strong and with this friendship comes their trust. Which the Dwarves hold their friends to and even minor fractures of that trust is viewed with a propensity for vengeance. A common gnomish oath remarks on this sense of Dwarven justice, "If I'm lying, may I cross a Dwarf." Loyalty is more than just a word for the Stout Folk and they see it as something that should be valued and rewarded. Most, if not all, Dwarves see it as a mark of respect to stand beside a friend in combat and an even greater mark to defend that friend from harm. As a result, most Dwarven tales revolve around a Dwarf making a great sacrifice for a friend. Dwarves form tight knit families and show a great amount of respect for their elder members and extend that courtesy to elders of non-Dwarven races, for they expect them to have wisdom of experience. Likewise, the Dwarves turn to their gods more frequently for guidance and protection than other races, though this is up to debate. In addition, Dwarven society is divided into clans that are built along family ties and political allegiances and are commonly headed by a hereditary ruler, a monarch of some sort that is a descendant of the founder of the clan. The Dwarves strongly value loyalty to these leaders and to the clan as a whole. Even the most objective of Dwarves will follow them over other races. Racially, the Dwarves are united, often time sending the younger ones to other Dwarven settlements to learn one of the skill trades such as jewelry, masonry, blacksmithing, or engineering, thus allowing them to avoid overspecialization. Dwarves are very slow to forgive past wrongs. As a race, they have declared war on orcs, goblins, and giants, seeing it as their duty to purge the world of the scum whenever and wherever they find them in their mountain homes. This hate has similarly been transferred to the Duergar, or gray Dwarves, whom the surface Dwarves see as evil as the Drow. However, Dwarves get along well with gnomes, who share in their love of fine crafting and passably with the other goodly races.

Edited by Epyon

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This section is going to be for the descriptions of the classes available.


Warriors: Warriors are either self-taught or trained en mass within the army or other kind of military force. Warriors are evenly balanced with offense and defense and tend to use a weapon and shield, two weapons of any kind, or a two handed weapon. A group of Warriors is a strong force and can cause a good amount of grief against their opponents. In combat, they are very flexible. However, they are also weaker against better-trained opponents such as Knights and Rangers. It should be noted that Warriors can also become Knights or Fighters.


Knights: Knights are warriors that are primarily trained in fighting from horseback, but fighting on foot is no trouble. Knights are better trained and more disciplined than Warriors. Knights tend to favor defense over offense, though and while on horseback, they use a lance or spear to fight. If fighting on foot, Knights use a shield and a sword, which is typically a longsword or a broadsword. Knights aren't so different from Paladins, the main difference being that Knights swear oaths to defend threats to a city or to the goodly folk of the Realms, whereas Paladins swear oaths to fight and promote their beliefs and values. Knights are good all around fighters. A group of Knights, whether on horseback or on foot, can cause significant damage to their enemy and because of their plate armor, they are more difficult to kill. Knights on their own are, unfortunately, not as formidable as they would be in a group. As such, a Knight that becomes separated will be an easier target than they would like. In prolonged combat, the heavier armor of a Knight will begin to wear on them and tire them out faster.


Shield Dwarf: Shield Dwarves are tough and mighty fighters, usually wearing mithral plate or chainmail armor and using a battleaxe, warhammer, or swords alongside a shield, usually with their clan's standard on its face. Shield Dwarves are a race as much as they are a class. They are very skilled when it comes to combat. They are able to take blows from enemies that would easily kill a human or an elf. Shield Dwarves are mighty, whether singularly or in a group, and they make use of their surroundings as much as they use their weapons.


Mage: Wizards or Magi are a type of spellcasters who learn the art of arcane magic through research and learning. What wizards lack in combat prowess and armor, they make up for with a broad range of magical spells and abilities learned from their research or training. Through this spellcasting ability, powerful wizards can control the battlefield, using spells that affect wide areas, often hindering their enemies while also learning to use the powerful rituals of arcane power. Of all the spellcasters, Wizards are the most respected as they generally have a sense of discipline that is uncommon among other spellcasters, particularly warlocks and sorcerers, whose very nature makes them unruly. However, not all wizards are deserving of this reputation and wizards can just as easily be chaotic or evil as other classes.


Wizards have a wide variety of spells fueled by the arcane energy of the universe known as the Weave, governed by the Goddess Mystra. A Wizard's spells differ from other arcane users usually in terms of usage or scale. While a warlock may use their spells malevolently and a swordmage might use defensive spells that empower themselves, a Wizard uses their power to control the nature of a battle, a landscape or even the physical makeup of the universe itself. While in combat, a Wizard favors spells that hinder many enemies at once, rather than attacking one or those spells that empower themselves or allies. When casting spells, a Wizard often uses magical implements such as staves, orbs, or wands. These implements concentrate the arcane power in a spell, thus increasing it's effectiveness. All wizards have a degree of specialization in implements, preferring one kind over the others. Some take a liking to orbs, which are used to increase the duration of their spells' effects. Others prefer using wands to increase their accuracy or staves to help defend themselves.


Cleric: Clerics are divine servants of one or more gods, serving them with martial might and their own strength of faith. As agents of a divine authority, Clerics are empowered both through ritual training and their god's particular favor. Clerics, depending on the god they serve as well as their own aims, can be revered or feared. Religion is deeply important to the majority of the people on Toril, who feel that the gods are very real and have an active presence in their lives, something that is not very far from the truth. It is because of this that serving the gods is something that most people do as just a regular part of their lives. Clerics are elite agents of gods, empowered beyond the capabilities of regular priests and sworn to follow and obey the tenets of their religion in ways that the average mortal couldn't. While some clerics served primordials or even fiends, offering foul sacrifices in exchange for a portion of the fiend's might, the vast majority remain servants of the truly divine. Gods are as varying as people and, as a result, so too are their divine agents, who might be good or evil, lawful or chaotic, all depending on who they worshiped and why. Clerics who are agents of good gods are proficient in spells and prayers for healing while also being able to combat the undead or to turn them against their handlers as well as a few spells that empower their allies. Clerics who are agents of evil gods are proficient in spells and prayers that allow them to raise and control the undead in addition to healing spells.


Clerics who have sufficient experience, whether singularly or in a group, can even invoke their deity's direct intervention. Thanks to the special training and the blessings of their gods, both of which increase their power and the potency of healing spells, Clerics are powerful healers. Clerics, despite being primarily divine agents, are also skilled in battle, with a majority of them being trained in the use of weapons and armor. While it is uncommon for Clerics to wander the land, it is not unheard of, though the reason for this varies from Cleric to Cleric.


Swordmage: Swordmages are powerful arcane spellcasters who blend martial combat with magic, often but not always elemental in nature. Swordmages are common among elves and some humans also take up the role of Swordmage. Wielding swords enchanted with spells, Swordmages are powerful foes to cross, hardened as they are through years of training in the melding of spell and blade. The culture of the Swordmage varies from place to place and person to person, but many archetypes exist. While most Swordmages favor gods of magic, such as Corellon or Selune, others of a good alignment might follow Torm or Tymora. Evil Swordmages are drawn to the worship of Shar, however, and have a more secretive bent in their traditions.


Much like fighters or paladins, Swordmages are typically defensive in combat, serving to guard allies or distract enemies. Spells in which Swordmages are specialized often reflect this to some extent, such as the Stone Skin enchantment, which makes them impervious to damage for a period of time. One spell that Swordmages tend to learn is the aegis of shielding spell, which allows a Swordmage to magically deflect an enemy's blows against an ally. The opposite of this spell, aegis of assault, enables the Swordmage to teleport immediately to the location of an enemy that has attacked an ally. All Swordmages maintain a close bond with their chosen blade, formed through one hour of meditation. This arcane bond allows a swordmage to call his or her blade to them from a small distance or magically repair it through their arcane link over a one hour period of meditation. In cases where the blade is broken, lost, or otherwise displaced, a Swordmage can replace it with a similar period of meditation, though this causes the old bond to dissolve. Like Rangers, Swordmages are cunning and difficult foes to conquer.


Bladesinger: Bladesingers are elven warriors who have blended art, swordplay, and arcane magic into a seamless whole. They use very discrete tactics and precise movements in battle to maintain a highly effective combat stance.Using a mixture of arcane and martial abilities, Bladesingers act as roving guardians of the surface Tel'Quessir culture, as they seek to promote Tel'Quessir ideals. They serve as protectors and champions of the eladrin and elven communities. Bladesingers have a prominent place in the society of the Tel'Quessir of Faerûn, as they are renowned as heroes of the Tel'Quessir and are widely welcomed in their communities. Similar to Rangers, Bladesingers are taught in a single master-apprentice tutelage system, with a master taking on a single apprentice to carry on the work of defending the Tel-Quessir and promoting their principles and way of life.


The bladesong itself is an extremely demanding martial art. It is the epitome of the Tel'Quessir's mastery of the sword and it is almost never taught to non-elven folk. The bladesong is a primarily defensive style of combat with devastating strikes considered less important than a superior guard position. From this defensive posture, and when an elf is proficient, magical attacks and spells may be used without fear of successful counter-attack. In addition to the violent purpose inherent to all martial arts, the bladesong is uniquely elven in the fact that the aesthetic components of the style are as important as its martial efficacy with its dance-like movements and the haunting whistling sounds produced by the sword blade cutting through the air. Unlike the martial arts of other races, the elven bladesong emphasizes beauty and economy of movement over sheer destructive power. However, the elven bladesong is deceptively dangerous, for all its seeming gentleness and apparent grace.


Bladesong is so named for a few different reasons. The first and most obvious is because of the whistling of the blade as it slices through the air when this style of fighting is used. Another reason is for the haunting, wordless tune many of it's practitioners sing as they fight. When a Bladesinger fights, their movements seem misleadingly slow and elegant, deflecting an opponents' blades while lazily drifting back to score hits themselves. The technique requires, above all, misdirection and subtlety as Bladesingers do not believe in smashing blows or a strong crushing offense. Instead, they guide their opponents to anticipate a different attack entirely, thus overbalancing the foe and making them seem clumsy.


Ranger: Rangers are warriors who excel at exploring the fringes of civilization and hunting down deadly monsters. Hunters, scouts, trappers, and assassins, Rangers can be found wherever civilization borders the wilderness. To aid them in their treks, Rangers are trained in a number of combat techniques, survival skills, and even magic. Rangers feel most at home on the edge of civilization and are often hunters, trackers, or a combination of the above, serving as protectors of the civilized world against the wilderness' feral threats. Rangers see themselves as guardians against nature's corruption, and have a special affinity for barbarians and druids, who often share similar goals. Other Rangers, however, are more mercenary, as they fight for personal glory or wealth. As their aspirations differ; so do the Rangers' backgrounds, with some coming from special military training, while others learned under solitary mentors who vested them with lessons on how to survive in places where few of the civilized races cared to tread. Rangers are very often motivated by good intentions and many have a well-placed sense of right and wrong. Many feel it was their calling in life to protect the innocent from monsters, hunting down the wicked wherever they arose to terrorize the weak. Conversely, many Rangers have an innate distaste for civilization's creature comforts and the griping it inspired in city folk. For this latter reason, and in spite of their often good nature, Rangers rarely get along with Paladins. Rangers with other motives are not uncommon however, and evil Rangers who take on the role of a cruel and savage predator are rightly feared. Similarly, Rangers are often chaotic in mindset; some felt an attraction to law or preferred to put themselves on neither side of law and chaos. Among the goodly races, Rangers are the most common among the elves, whose culture placed a high value on the natural world and whose natural grace lent itself to a Ranger's lifestyle. Trained to be nimble and deadly, Rangers are experts in wilderness survival, both on their own and with company.


They can move quickly over difficult terrain, evade natural hazards, and disguise their tracks or camouflage themselves to blend in with their surroundings. Although these skills are often very general in nature, every Ranger has their own particular terrain that they know best, over which they could travel, forage, and track more effectively. Rangers train their senses to an extremely keen level, allowing them to focus their awareness on the area around them to notice if dangerous foes are nearby. With additional experience, Rangers can even perceive unseen enemies as easily as if they are visible. All Rangers are proficient to some degree in light or medium armor and most weapons as well as shields. Generally, Rangers prefer to be lightly protected, as it allows them more agility and the use of their reflexes than heavier armor could permit. In addition to their general proficiency with martial and simple weapons, Rangers specialize in a particular fighting style such as archery, single-weapon dueling, or dual wielding. Rangers hone their combat skills against foes whom they have a particular enmity for, such as dragons or undead, allowing them to better track, hunt, or even communicate with such adversaries. The most experienced Rangers can also exploit their knowledge of a foe's weakness to more easily injure or kill them. Nearly all Rangers are trained in some degree of magic, which they use to enhance their own abilities. This magic is often primal in nature, drawn from the power of nature itself. Each day Rangers focus this power within themselves, preparing which spells they intend to cast.

Edited by Epyon

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Magic is the ability possessed by some individuals to manipulate the ambient energies of the world to produce desired results. In the Realms, arcane magic is commonly referred to as "The Art", while divine magic is referred to as "The Power". The Goddess Mystra controls the Weave, which is the main medium for channeling the arcane energies of Abeir-Toril. The Goddess Shar controls the Shadow Weave, which flows in between the normal Weave and enables the use of Shadow Magic. Divine magic is drawn from specific deities or from nature itself, and is not influenced by either Mystra or Shar, as it can continue to work when arcane magic ceases to function. Historically, this made it the most reliable form of magic.


Magic that originates from a spell-granting deity, usually through prayer, is divine in nature and is called The Power by the common folk. Clerics, Druids, Paladins, and Rangers all derive their spells and spell-like abilities from a deity. A practitioner of The Power has no affinity with The Art, as their spells are planted in their minds directly by their patron deity and they do not tap the Weave. Casting divine spells is more like an exclamation of faith that brings about a sensation appropriate to the patron deity to whom the faith is devoted. A small subcategory of divine spells make use of "devotional energy" that comes from many worshipers congregating in a specific location dedicated or sacred to a deity. This is called Faith Magic. Once a focus is created to harness this energy, it could be used for protection, improving harvests, controlling weather, improving communication between diverse peoples, and improving public health.


Any magic that doesn't originate from a deity is defined as arcane magic. Note that while all magic is accessed through the Weave, which is maintained by a deity, this does not make all magic divine magic. The use of arcane magic is referred to in day-to-day speech as The Art, and a wide variety of people are able to practice the art to a smaller or larger extent. However, the way in which they access the Weave can differ dramatically. Most wizards spend long years researching their Art, gathering spells to their personal book and each day, they can only memorize a small fraction of these. The memory of the spell is wiped from their mind as it is cast. The wizard then needs to re-study the spell before they can cast it again, unless more than one casting of the spell in question was prepared.


Magic can be placed into eight different schools, which the wizards keep in mind when they create spells. These schools are; Abjuration, Alteration, Conjuration, Divination, Enchantment, Evocation, Illusion, and Necromancy.


Abjuration encompasses protective spells. These spells create physical or magical barriers, negate magical or physical abilities, harm trespassers, or even banish the subject of the spell to another plane of existence.


Alteration encompasses spells that change the nature of the physical world and objects within it.


Conjuration encompasses spells that call materials, creatures, or energy to the caster and can also be reversed to send creatures to other places, either over long distances or to a whole different plane of existence. Healing spells are also found in this category.


Divination encompasses spells that enable the caster to learn secrets long forgotten, interpret dreams, predict the future, find hidden things or foil deceptive spells. Among them are the detect magic spell and scry.


Enchantment encompasses spells that affect the minds of other by influencing or controlling their behavior. These include the charm spells and compulsion spells.


Evocation encompasses spells that manipulate energy or tap an unseen source of power in order to produce a desired end. In effect, they create something out of nothing. Many of these spells produce spectacular effects, and evocation spells can deal large amounts of damage. Iconic spells of this school are magic missile, lightning bolt and fireball.


Illusion encompasses spells that deceive the senses or minds of others. They cause people to see things that are not there, not see things that are there, hear phantom noises, or remember things that never happened. Among these spells is the invisibility spell. Shadow Illusions are partially real and can affect the world around them or damage things.


Necromancy encompasses spells that manipulate the power of death, unlife, and the life force. Spells involving the undead make up a large portion of this school, including the animate dead spell. Highly focused on the Negative Energy Plane, most spells from this school can drain abilities. This school is the one most associated with lichdom which is a process that allows the caster to exist in an undead state indefinitely by securing their essence in a receptacle known as a phylactery.


When a wizard casts a spell there are a few things to keep in mind. Many spells require one, some, or all of the following; a verbal component, a somatic component, a material component, and at times a magical focus.


A verbal component involves the caster speaking certain words or in the case of a bard, create music to cast a spell. However, if they are prevented from speaking, such as with use of a gag or certain spells, it will be impossible for a caster to use their intended spell.


A somatic component involves the caster making a motion to cast a spell. If the caster is unable to make the correct motion, the spell cannot be cast. Thus, wearing armor or using a shield is generally avoided by magic users, as such things interferes with the somatic components of arcane spells thus creating a risk of spell failure. However, bards and other arcane classes can cast spells in light armor without this risk.


A material component involves the caster sacrificing some sort of material to produce a spell (i.e. a metal rod to produce a lightning bolt). Often these components are virtually worthless but some spells, such as those intended to raise the dead, require material components costing thousands of gold pieces. If a caster is unable to access or use the correct component, the spell cannot be cast. It should be noted that as the spell is cast, the material component is destroyed.


A magical focus is mainly for spells that may require that the caster has access to a holy symbol or some other special object to focus on when casting the spell. This is mostly true for divine spells. Foci are not damaged during the casting process and can be reused.

Edited by Epyon

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Accepted Characters

Username: Epyon

Name: Zaknayrr Rilynath

Race: Drow Elf

Age: 591


Class: Ranger

Weapons: A sturdy longbow made from mahogany that he uses on occasion, preferring instead to use his two hand and a half swords (censorkip.gif*** swords) that have been forged from mithral by an old friend from one of the dwarven settlements.

Appearance: Zaknayrr is a little on the taller side of the elves found along the Realms, standing at 5'8 and with a bit more muscle but he still retains the graceful figure all elves possess. Due to his heritage as a dark elf, his skin is the same color as obsidian with his silvery white hair cascading down to hang just above the small of his back though he always keeps it in a braided ponytail. Indigo blue eyes peer out from his angular, handsome face that twinkle with excitement with every adventure. He wears a tight fitting forest green tunic that he pairs with light brown pants, the bottom of the pant legs have been carefully tucked into the knee high black boots he wears. Wrapped around his waist is a masterfully crafted belt of leather with ornate scabbards that house his censorkip.gif*** swords

Personality:Good-hearted and honorable: words rarely used to describe a dark elf, but in Zaknayrr's case, the words are often said. Zaknayrr is good-hearted and unjudging to those he does not know. He is empathetic and will often help those who need it. He often greets others warmly if given the chance and will actively pursue a friendship if he finds a kindred spirit within someone; however, he laments when someone judges him for the sins of his people. Though he is skilled in battle, he despises war and often tries to negotiate before drawing his blades. Stress is nothing new to Zaknayrr, so he picked up singing songs to relieve the tension he is feeling. In an unfamiliar setting, he is often silent but his mind is always open to those who wish his friendship. However, he is very suspicious of any other Drow he encounters on the surface, for while he believes that not all of his kin are vile and cruel, he does know that almost all of them are.

Pirate or Pirate Hunter: Pirate Hunter

Rank: Captain

Ship Type: Windjammer

Ship Name: Shadow of Night

Personal Flag design: Two swords crossed in front of a blue flame on a black background.

History (optional): Zaknayrr first walked from the caverns of the Underdark to the surface world of the Realms at the young age of 90 after deserting a Drow raiding party. Running from an existence he could not tolerate, he thought it better to take his chances in a world so foreign to his own despite his fears of forever being ridiculed for the wicked and cruel reputation his people had rightfully earned. His first chance at gaining some measure of acceptance came in the form of an orc attack on an elven camp. The ugly, smelly brutes had attacked in the dark of night and, though the elves held their own, they were being hard pressed. Zaknayrr, rushed in to help them as soon as he came upon the scene. He had saved several adults and a couple children in his fight. Once the orcs were routed, Zaknayrr stayed and knelt down to the elven clan with his swords in front of him, trying to remain as nonthreatening as possible. However the elves, despite being grateful, imprisoned and interrogated Zaknayrr until they were satisfied that this dark elf came of his own volition without nefarious designs. Over time, they showed Zaknayrr their ways and the common tongue, to which Zaknayrr was eager to learn so he may better make his niche in this strange world. To the amazement and delight of both Zaknayrr and the elven clan that pretty much adopted him, an elven ranger took Zaknayrr under his wing and taught him the ways of the forest and the natural order that all rangers try to preserve. During this time was when Zaknayrr discovered the Lady of the Forest, the Goddess Mielikki in the form of her magnificent unicorn. So Zaknayrr was then known as a Ranger, faithful follower to the Goddess Mielikki and defender of the goodly folk of the Realms. After this event, for a good century and a half or so, Zaknayrr roamed the lands between the Moonwood, where he is well-known and accepted, and the Savage Frontier. Here is where he made a name for himself, helping the small towns and villages repel raids from orcs or goblins, though at first he needed to be accompanied by one of the Moon Elves so the humans wouldn’t try to kill him. Overtime however, the human settlers came to recognize Zaknayrr and welcomed him openly. He then went on to Waterdeep and sailed the Sword Coast, unfortunately this was also when he first encountered pirates, he was on a merchant vessel when it was assailed by a group of pirates. The crewmen aboard the merchant were overwhelmed and Zaknayrr joined in the fight to repel the boarders which was easy when the pirates recoiled in terror at the sight of a dark elf enabling Zaknayrr to easily cut them down, the one time he didn’t mind being judged by his people's reputation. When the merchant ship returned to Waterdeep, Zaknayrr left to one of the shipyards to procure a vessel, and at first they sold him a two masted Schooner which he named the Shadow of Night. For the next 60 years, he had proved himself a capable captain and an avid hunter of pirates. The Lords of Waterdeep, recognizing Zaknayrr’s efforts entrusted him with a Windjammer that their shipbuilders and wizards created. Zaknayrr gladly accepted their gift and named his sleek, new vessel the Shadow of Night as well. Zaknayrr has since been sailing the Sword Coast, helping the legendary Sea Sprite keep the seas clear of pirates.


Username: Mistress of Whispers

Name: Calendriel Aerundale

Race: Elf (moon elf father, unknown elf mother)

Age: 130

Gender: Woman

Class: Swordmage

Weapons: Twin curved swords crafted from mithral, one with ancient elven markings in red gold and a ruby on the hilt, the other with ancient elven markings in blue gold with a sapphire on the hilt. If the markings mean anything, Calendriel has yet to find anyone who can decipher them. (Picture that served as inspiration.)

Appearance: Calendriel prefers to keep her hair in a topknot composed of braided strands and interwoven with beads and small metal ornaments. When she lets it fall loose, it cascades past her buttocks in waves of brown, red and copper. Her eyes are a bright, light sapphire flecked with gold. Calendriel is a little taller than the average moon elf, which still makes her shorter than the average human, with a lithe but well-toned build. Like most moon elves, she prefers to wear simple-cut robes made of bright silks, with blue, green and purple being her favourite colours. She carries a silver pendant inlaid with the symbol of Corellon. Her skin is lightly tanned, taking on a soft golden glow in the sun light.

Personality: Calendriel is more reserved than the typical moon elf, preferring to observe and learn before jumping in, though her time with Grimwald has loosened her up considerably. She is determined to become a blade singer, believing that this honours her mother's legacy, and doggedly fights with two swords despite the fact that she is better with a single blade. While she likes to sing and has a beautiful singing voice, she is too insecure to sing in the presence of others. She becomes withdrawn when she is angry or stressed, and (sometimes futilely) takes to meditation in an effort to work through negative emotions. Calendriel has never known her mother and, like most absent parents, the figure has grown larger than life in her mind. She worships Corellon as the god of elves, song, magic and warfare.

History: While Madriel the sorcerer made his nominal home in the great Elven city of Evereska, he lived a primarily nomadic existence. One year, as winter turned to spring, he set out on his own rather than remain with his extended tribe. To date he has not told anyone what compelled him to set out alone, but when Madriel returned a year later, he carried with him two curved swords and a young baby girl whose tuft of red hair revealed her to be of more than purely moon elven descent and whom he named Calendriel.

While Madriel never told Calendriel, or anyone else for that matter, about her mother, he gifted her the twin swords when she came of age and revealed them to be her mother's legacy. From that moment on, Calendriel abandoned her education as a sorcerer and began to apply herself as a sword fighter in an attempt to emulate her mother. Having inherited her father's innate talent for magic though, Calendriel became a swordmage rather than a mundane fighter. Once she felt she had advanced sufficiently in her chosen path, Calendriel then set out to become a bladesinger.

Bladesingers are an exceedingly rare group of elven warriors, yet Calendriel's determination led her to three of them. Two flat-out refused to tutor her, saying that her sword skills were 'passable, but subpar' for a bladesinger. The third, an elder elf named Miral, was about to do the same, when she caught sight of Calendriel's inherited swords and seemingly changed her mind. Training with her mentor, Calendriel finally became an accomplished sword fighter, though now a different problem crossed her path. All bladesingers sing, literally, to channel their skill and magic, yet Calendriel was unable to find 'her' song. After nearly two decades of training, Miral came to the conclusion that the problem lay not in lack of effort or even skill. Instead, she felt that Calendriel could not find a song because she tried to emulate her unknown mother, rather than be her own person. So rather than continue training, she sent Calendriel out to 'discover the world', in the hopes that the young elf would find herself in the process.

Calendriel has travelled from Evereska to the Sword Coast in the West, and to Cormyr and the Dalelands in the East. One night, she came across a big loaf of a human beset by goblins. Aware that as a future bladesinger she should protect all people of Faerûn, Calendriel joined the battle and saved the human. At least, that's how she views it – Grimwald has a different tale. They have remained together since, mostly as partners in arms and occasionally as something more. When word of Waterdeep's recruitment drive reached the pair, Grimwald insisted they go. Calendriel initially resisted, as she wanted to remain in the Dalelands, but Grimwald's constant nagging and a long, rambling story about sea songs and sirens finally made her give in.

Pirate or Pirate Hunter: Pirate Hunter

Rank: Crew mate (sellsword)

Ship Name: Shadow of Night

Ship Type: Windjammer


Username: Biologist

Name: Grimwald Tallstag

Race: Human

Age: 19

Gender: Man

Class: Warrior (Fighter?)

Weapons: Grimwald has an assortment of weapons that he 'acquired' during his time on the road. His favorites are his sword and his bow, for he is most proficient with them.

Being tall and strong, he has settled one a hand-and-a-half variety, for he can combine it with a buckler. The sword is nothing fancy, but it has served him in numerous battles and has held out under the duress of his mighty blows.

His longbow has been taken from a strong opponent after a difficult battle and at a considerable amount of blood spilt on both sides. By the luckiest of lucky blows, Grimwald won the day and took the bow and other usables as trophy. It serves him well for it has reinforced wood, making it impossible for all but the strongest to draw.

In a pinch, Grimwald is not above taking anything and turn it into a weapon. He is a bit of an opportunist that way. Even sand can be a weapon if used under the right circumstances. He learned that trick the hard way from one of his first fights. Since then he has incorporated dirty fighting in his fighting style.

Appearance: Grimwald has always been tall for his age, which was the start of many a fight in his younger years. Having grown into adulthood, he stands 7 feet and 4 inches tall, making him somewhat of a freak amongst his race. Years of hard work and fighting have given him a very muscular body, with a tan skin and quite a few scars. He has blond hair that falls short of his shoulders and steely blue eyes, set in a face that smiles easily. His hands are never idle, always doing something, whether it is drumming on the table or carving a piece of wood.

One of his most prized possessions is his chain-mail and breastplate armour. With the first coins he 'earned', he had it made to fit by the best armorer he could find. It has saved his life many times and he is rarely seen without it when fighting.

Outside of combat he wears a shirt and leather pants with sturdy leather boots that have been shod with steel for better footing. All have been especially made to fit for him, for there are no shops where they sell clothing his size.

Personality: Grimwald is an opportunist. He will make the most of any situation. He is not evil, but he has broken the law when it suited his needs. He believes that everyone is responsible for their own fortune and nothing is given in life. Therefor he lives life to the fullest, knowing his could be a short one. He can be loud and boastful, especially after a few tankards of ale.

His temper is fickle and he can toast with his fellows as easily as start a brawl when he feels like it. But most of the time, he is a very upbeat person and laughs easily and heartily, seeing the humour in most situations, even if others don't.

Grimwald is hardly ever stressed. He thrives in combat situations and the adrenaline rush is his natural high. He is generally a very laid back person and usually rolls with any situation, either bluffing his way through or getting violent. He is secure in the knowledge that there isn't a situation he cannot handle with a sword. And he is very good with a sword.

As such, Grimwald favours Tymora, the Lady Luck, goddess of goof luck, skill, victory and adventurers.

Grimwald is rarely alone with his thoughts as he likes to be surrounded by other people. If he is alone, he probably goes and find a 'wench' to spend time with. Otherwise he probably is doing something with his hands to pass the time (whittling wood, humming a song, sharpening his blade and taking care of his equipment, etc.).

He isn't an educated man. He has never been taught how to read. As a result his memory is quite good, but he doesn't speak any languages other than the Common tongue. He isn't bothered by this though. His two solutions for social situations are either bluff and boast, or ignore. If he feels slighted, he starts a fight. People might percieve that as a weakness, but Grimwald doesn't.

History: Grimwald grew up as the third son and youngest child of a large family (three boys, four girls) in a small coastal fishing village. Although there was always fish to catch, there was never enough money for a comfortable living. Due to his size he was not very suited for the small fishing boats, so his father didn't see him as an asset to his family, but more as a burden. His peers taunted him with being of giant descent, and worse, and Grimwald has been in many a fight since he was able to throw a punch.

He was apprenticed to a few masters at an early age, but none of them found him particularly suited for their craft. Growing tired of being an outcast in his own village and yearning to find his place in the world he set off one night and never looked back.

Grimwald soon found out that the world was a dangerous place and the best way to keep alive was to become the greatest danger himself. He tried his luck as a highwayman and earned his first sword – and his first scars – but not much else. He joined a few militia to track down a fugitive, but it wasn't as rewarding as striking out on his own. During those years he honed his skill with several weapons and grew into the skilled and strong warrior he is now.

He carries the fruits of his labor with him as his worldly possessions, traveling light and spending his coins right away either on much-needed items or repairs, or sharing it in the nearest tavern, buying rounds of ale for everyone. This lifestyle has earned him both respect and a few warrants for his arrest along the trade routes from the Sword Coast and the Savage Frontier to Cormyr and the Dalelands. He is careful to avoid the places where he is wanted, seeing the call at arms from Waterdeep as a perfect way to avoid persecution.

One night, he was surprised by three trolls, while making dinner over a small fire in the woods. The fight wasn't going very well, and he figured out that trolls regenerated soon enough. When he got a burning piece of wood from the fire, a girl came bursting into the melee, screwing up his attack and creating chaos that was worse than being surprised by three trolls. The girl, Calendriel – though he calls her Cal – tells a different tale and it is a point of dispute between them. Why she stuck with him, he doesn't know, but he has learned to value her skill as a fighter and a spellcaster. He actually enjoys her company, finding a kindred spirit in her love for swords. They shared many a fight since and sometimes a bed. He doesn't know her entire story yet (only that she needs to find 'her song'), but he hopes she'll share it someday. He also suspects she is not as young as she looks, being an elf and all that.

Grimwald has been able to convince Cal to join the Waterdhavian pirate hunt quite easily after an eloquent speech about how she was looking for a song and that the place where singing was most abundant was in harbour taverns, seamen always talked about the song of the sea and the creatures that lured sailors to the depths used song to do so.

Pirate or Pirate Hunter: Pirate Hunter

Rank: Crew mate (sellsword)

Ship Name: Shadow of Night

Ship Type: Windjammer


Username: Gildraug

Name: Kaia Dahlberg

Race: Human

Age: 20

Gender: Female

Class: Cleric

Weapons: Kaia carries a small warhammer (imagine Mjölnir but a little slender) at her left hip which she uses for battle. At other times, Kaia carries around a simple wooden staff, which she uses to channel her healing and other magical abilities.

Appearance: Kaia stands at about 5'6" and has chestnut brown skin thanks to her spending outside for extended periods of time. She has stormy gray eyes with pale eyelashes and sharp eyebrows, giving her an angry look at all times, which is highlighted by her angular and sharp face. Her hair has been bleached by the sun and the salt water, giving it a color of an old bone - unnaturally white. Kaia wears loose, large-sleeved dark blue robes over many layers of shirts of varying whites. Upon all this, she wears a light brown scarf, which covers her neck. Over her legs Kaia has dark brown breeches with an extraordinarily beautiful leather belt. However, her feet are bare, only protected by some quickly wrapped linen with the edges of her pants tucked in.

Personality: Like the ever-present sea, Kaia can either help or harm, totally depending on her mood and how much she likes the person. She may be a healer, but she won't hesitate to let someone die to their wounds. Kaia always looks after herself first before tending to others, and very rarely feels bad about this. Laws are only recommendations to her and friendships somewhat of a burden to this b@stard child of a man she never met.

Kaia is fiercely independent and proud, preferring to be herself than in the company of others. She does find some grim pleasure of being around her pirate 'family', but still finds their presence somewhat annoying. If she, however, decides to let someone close to her, she might reveal another side of her, a side which has a sense of humor, loyalty of some sort, and the aspects of a scared, lonely person she still is.

Kaia tends to avoid fights if she can, but once provoked, it is hard to calm her down - especially since she's quite prideful and refuses to back down from any challenge. She cannot stand those who nitpick on rules or those who tend to bow before the stronger. Kaia may avoid fights, but she will never stand down nor lower her head, merely lift her chin higher and snort in disdain.

Although Kaia may be cold, unfriendly, and moody, she might surprise those around her at times by being compassionate, caring, and kind. Although these moments are rare and short-lived, they remind those around her that what she usually shows is merely a shell. A hard, ice-cold, iron shell, but a shell nevertheless.

Pirate, Pirate Hunter or Merchant: Pirate

Rank: First Mate

Ship Type: - -

Ship Name: Stormlight

Personal Flag design: A dark blue stormy sea upon black with a white star shining above the sea.

History (optional): Kaia is a b@stard child of a rich merchant whom she has never met. Her mother, a poor fisherman's wife with many children already, had no choice but to send her to a local temple to the water gods, where the priests took her in as an apprentice. However, even though her mother could not keep her child, she visited Kaia on weekly intervals, giving her little gifts on their meetings and much-needed love which the priests could not.

Work at the temple was hard and tedious, but Kaia got three warm meals a day and a place to stay, for which she was thankful. However, as she grew older, her mother was unable to visit her as frequently, her weekly visits first turning into every other week, then monthly, until they saw only once a year. Then came a year she didn't see her mother at all - Kaia was 15 at the time.

After this, she begun to disobey the priests, wandering about the streets of Waterdeep, scavenging food and getting into fights. The smile she had earlier vanished and a hard personality came in place. She sought solace from the water gods, finding Istishia calling for her especially, and begun to devote her miserable life to him. Soon, it became apparent that Kaia had the gifts of a cleric, and she was given appropriate training.

But the oppressive feeling of the temple became eventually too much for the wild-natured child and Kaia fled the temple into the islands nearby. From there, she was picked up into a pirate ship, where she quickly rose up the ranks thanks to her divine connection to the sea which proved useful during both voyages, ship hunting, and battles.

Username: Narvix

Name: Briagh Grayhammer

Race: Dwarf

Age: 453 years

Gender: Male

Class: Shield Dwarf

Weapons: Dominantly uses a circular shield made of sturdy oak with iron molding. Down and across the front of Briagh's shield, thin strips of iron is welded into the wood as a sort of criss-crossing support. As a secondary, he uses a short sword with a one-handed hilt.

Appearance: Short and stocky like the typical dwarf, Briagh is on the taller end of the spectrum, reaching 4'8" in height. His head is kept shaved and covered by an open-faced helm. His mustache and beard are thick and kept tidy, the red strands of his beard tied into several braids. His skin is a bit more tanned than the average for a Shield Dwarf due to his frequent exposure to sunlight. With rough hands and stubby fingers, he's certainly not a stranger to labor outside of his basic duties. Covering his body is a simple tunic and breeches beneath a worn leather breastplate and shinguards. On his arms, he wears faded leather bracers that are studded with small cones of iron. Heavy boots with iron edges cover his feet.

Personality: Briagh is certainly the rough sort but that isn't so surprising. He's loud and boastful, with just a hint of humility. Laughing at folly and making smart (or just plain rude) remarks are preferred habits of his. He'll take things seriously only once weapons are brandished. Otherwise, don't expect much more than the minimum and loud chatter from him. He always appears unbothered by strange situations but, it really just depends on what's happening. Sure, he'll be surprised or uncertain and show that he is but he'll quickly morph his body language to look at ease.

Handling stress is an iffy thing. It's not truly known if he can deal with it just fine or if it's a tough thing for him to withstand. He laughs more and speaks louder when under stress or is pressured by something. Outside of any stress, he thoroughly enjoys what he does and has no desire to quit any time soon. Perhaps the only thing he'll openly stress about is his ship and crew.

When he isn't being rude, loud, or boasting of some tall triumph, Briagh likes to solve puzzles. He won't let people get away with calling him something short of an imbecile but he won't let on that he's smarter than he seems. It's not that he's outright ashamed of being a brainy type but, when you make a living on the sea as an outlaw, it's more of a requirement to be tough than cunning. At least, that's how he's come to figure it. No one likes a scholar and everyone loves the fighter. So, the fighter he became and shoved his scholarly habits into the dark.

History (optional): ----

Pirate or Pirate Hunter: Pirate

Rank: Captain of the Maelstrom Corsairs

Ship Type: Brigantine

Ship Name: Stormlight

Personal Flag design: A blue, raging sea upon a black background with a white star shining above.


Username: Narvix

Name: Aireia Faelandaerl

Race: Moon Elf

Age: 309 years

Gender: Female

Class: Ranger

Weapons: Primarily uses a recurved bow made of elm. The center where she grasps the weapon is wrapped in green cloth with thin strips of bronze curling around the wood and out for a little flair. For a backup, Aireia has a thin dagger sheathed and kept at her hip.

Appearance: Tall and fair skinned like many others in the Elven race, Aireia's skin looks as if it is perpetually covered in a thin layer of frost. Her hair is a gentle sky-blue in color and falls in soft, straight, strands down to the small of her back. A few shorter strands consistently brush against the side of her left cheek. Green eyes with golden flecks peer out from a delicate and pointed face. Upon her body, she wears form-fitted cloth that make up a light-weight tunic and pants. The bottom of each pant leg is tucked away into leather boots that reach up to mid-calf and the waist is wrapped with a leather belt.

Personality: Like all elves, Aireia is graceful and does her best to keep any falter hidden. She's confident in her abilities as a Ranger but not much else. With a bow in her hands, she's more at ease and sure of her footing. Take that away and she can't help but stumble. Fighting isn't all that she's got but it's most of what she knows. The wilderness is her home but a sense of adventure draws her wherever it might lead.

Emotional situations are her weakest point, not knowing how best to empathize with another to comfort them. She's awkward with social interactions and often stutters (something that she profoundly hates). Stress and pressure don't help in any regard and, unfortunately, she finds that she crumples under too much weight, too easily. She's afraid of being regarded as apathetic and strange and it frustrates her to no end how incompetent she feels in such a simple thing as conversation.

Aireia is fond of being left alone, residing in the corner of a room or off to the side somewhere else. She tries not to bother others as best she can but often wants some sort of company in the form of one or two people, no more. Usually, she takes comfort in simply sitting next to someone she knows and remaining in silence. Actions speak louder than words as she believes and so she's become quite adept at reading body language while, in turn, she speaks few words.

History (optional): ----

Pirate or Pirate Hunter: Pirate Hunter

Rank: First Mate

Ship Type: Windjammer

Ship Name: Shadow of Night

Personal Flag design: Two swords crossed in front of a blue flame on a black background.

Name: Ninafer Bal


Race: Half-Elf (elf and Drow)


Age: 70 years old


Gender: Female


Class: Mage


Weapons: Dagger, prefers to use spells over weapons


Appearance: Ninafer is six feet tall. On any other creature this would be a height that would command respect, but this isn't the case with Ninafer. Her slim frame, due to her hectic life and poor diet, makes her appear smaller than she really is.


Her long white hair is neatly kept but there will be weeks at a time where she won't wash it. This is due to her considering staying alive more important than personal hygiene. When this is the case, her hair will take on a grayish appearance. Ninafer usually keeps her hair untied. The only exception is when long hair would make certain tasks not doable, in which case she ties her hair so that it own't be in her way.


Dark blue eyes seem to pay attention to every little movement. Like she can't stop being suspicious of anything.


Her dark brown skin is smooth and Ninafer likes to keep it that way. She believes it makes people underestimate her which is useful in any kind of battle. She does have a few scars from past fights, but she keeps those covered up so that they can't be easily seen.



Personality: Ninafer is torn between the two sides of her heritage. Like the Drow, she tends to favor relationships that are beneficial to her. Unlike the Drow, and perhaps because of her elven heritage, she doesn’t betray her former allies just because an alliance has suddenly become non-beneficial to her. However, if her allies betray her Ninafer has no problems dealing out damage.


Ninafer isn't diplomatic. She can't quickly resolve situations between people. If she doesn't like someone she doesn't tend to hide any hatred back, unless she is working with the person or they're working toward a common goal. In that case she won't be pleasant, but won't compromise the mission.


Ninafer will push things to the back of her mind until there is a time that she can deal with them. Though she will be more violent until she can calm down and tries to turn any violence she feels because of stress into something useful.


Ninafer tries to act more confident than she feels, especially when the unfamiliar situation/interaction involves life and death. She doesn't like to appear weak. To appear weak means to attract death.


Ninafer is more expressive when not around other people. She prefers to be alone so that she can plan and doesn't like to dwell on her own thoughts too much. Dwelling on her own thoughts makes her feel weak and she doesn't like to feel weak.


Ninafer dresses simply as she likes to focus on the task at hand.



Pirate or Pirate Hunter: Pirate Hunter


Rank: Crew Member


Ship Type: Frigate


Ship Name: Raging Raven


Personal Flag design: (All Pirate Hunters will start in Waterdeep so their ship will also have a flag with the seal of Waterdeep. Pirates can start from any island in the Moonshae Isles and the Nelanther Isles. Pirates need only their personal flag.)


History (optional):

Ninafer Bal was born of an elven mother and a Drow father, a very odd couple. Ninafer never knew her father, but her mother told her stories often enough. All she knew of her father was that he escaped the Underdark and had lived with her mother for a little while. But then he found that the Underdark was where he belonged and so returned, though they never learned his final fate. They both doubted it was a good one.


Ninafer eventually left her mother as she didn’t like the pity she got from other elves. Not that her mother was treated well after having a child with a Drow. Ninafer got work wherever she could. When she reached her height of six feet she became a very impressive foe.


Ninafer went on to become a mage and the only weapon she carried was a dagger. She liked to see opponents underestimate her before they died. After a little bit she joined a crew of pirate hunters. She didn’t choose to be a pirate hunter out of any personal feelings, but because she had flipped a coin. It had just turned out that the choice the coin made was pirate hunter.

Edited by Epyon

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I figure this will be where I'll place the active ships, the OC's/crews on those ships, and the inactive characters.

Active Ships

Pirate Hunters

Shadow of Night Windjammer

Captain: Zaknayrr Rilynath

First Mate: Aireia Faelandaerl

Deck boss(NPC): Dangan Diamondcrusher

Crew members: Calendriel Aerundale, Grimwald Tallstag


Raging Raven Frigate

Captain: Ninafer Bal




Stormlight Brigantine

Captain: Briagh Grayhammer


Inactive characters


Bryce S. Marlowe-Psyduck

Charles (Charly) B. Andrews-Drakkoh

Kaia Dahlberg-Gildraug

Edited by Epyon

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(Let it begin!)


The sun rises over a misty morning in the City of Splendors, bathing the city in an almost surreal light as it's cuts through the vapory veil and with it, the city begins to awaken. Priests of Lathander, The Morninglord, sing their hymns as they do with every sunrise. The changing of the guard occurs as it should. The sunlight glints off the metal of ships' riggings in the harbor and as the mist begins to burn away, the sight of a ship coming into port is revealed.


The sleek vessel is a windjammer, one of the few that the Lords of Waterdeep have commissioned for the specific purpose of hunting down marauding pirates. As it enters the harbor proper, the shouts of a dwarf followed by the answering crew can be heard.


"Slacken braces and ease the sails, boys! We don't want our ship to come in too fast!" The responding "Aye" by the sailors prompt the dwarf to move towards the main sail where he can better direct the crew. Gradually, the windjammer slows to a crawl as it approaches it's assigned dock. "Steady as she goes! Ayuh, I need two o' ye to get ready to throw the lines!" comes the shout followed by two of the sailors running towards the coils of thick, heavy rope. They then toss the mooring lines to the dock workers, who quickly tie off the mooring lines, finally the windjammer stops with barely even a tug on the moorings. The sailors then position the boarding planks while the dwarf turns and walks to the captain's quarters, he knocks once before entering and approaches the dark elf within, who is standing over some papers, "We've arrived in port, Captain. Now, will ye get to walking afore I plant me boot up your skinny arse?" He says gruffly, but with an underlying joking tone.


The dark elf turns around with a wry grin, "Pray tell me, old friend, just how in the Nine Hells you expect to catch me in such a way? I move far too quickly." Zaknayrr claps a hand on the shoulder of the sturdy dwarf, Dangan Diamondcrusher by name, as he walks out, the dwarf flanking behind him on his left.


"Simple, I trip ye up afore ye get to dancin', ye durned elf!" The two share a laugh at that, as they have been going back and forth like this for years.


The crew onboard the windjammer, the Shadow of Night, have arrayed themselves as if undergoing inspection as soon as Zaknayrr made his appearance. He walks to stand forward and center of them. "Gentlemen, a job well done as I have come to expect from all of you. Go and take a rest at the taverns, you have all more than earned it by my estimate. Be back at the ship before sun down and remember, nobody goes off alone." The crew nod and they move off the ship, heading towards their favored taverns. Zaknayrr and Dangan themselves go to a fairly new tavern that they have been frequenting as of late, the Moonlit Dell, they walk in and sit at their usual spot. The barmaid brings them their drinks and as always, the two start talking business.


"We still need to find a First Mate, Zak. I cannot be juggling two jobs at once."

"I know, but not many are keen on serving under a drow."

"Bah! We have three hunnerd fifty crew already! We'll find someone to be the First Mate or I'm a bearded gnome!"


Zaknayrr cannot help but chuckle, it was true enough, though he has earned the trust of many of the people in Waterdeep, there are others who cannot get past the sight of a dark elf. Of course, out on the seas, he doesn't mind it so much.



[Dangan is an NPC that can be used by those serving on the Shadow of Night as he's the Deck Boss. but whether I will keep him as a playable NPC or make him an OC I have yet to decide.]

Edited by Epyon

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Few things compared to the joy of a dwarf in his favorite tavern, conversing with his mates and getting wasted on cheep booze, but nothing came close to the jolly mood of one particular dwarf, as he chugged down mug after mug of his favorite mead, as if it were water. Hit meh! -the tipsy dwarf shouted as his heavy fist hit the counter, signaling the bartender to slide him his next mug of ale. As the wooden handle met the burly Budrik Stronggut's hand, he smiled his familiar smile as he downed half the thing in one large chug, before unleashing a thunderous belch, as if to compliment the brewer.


"You know Bud, your tab is getting so big I could probably charge you an arm and a leg at this point." -commented the bemused bartender as he idly cleaned a mug with a piece of cloth.

Baaah, ye know ah'm good fer it. -slurred Budrik, as a scowl crossed his face- I'll get yer blasted money, just keep it comin'! I got a lotta' bruises to get off me mind.


The bartender arced an eyebrow, his scowl deepening. "Bad run in with the carta again?"

Ha! Naaaw, not this time. -the dwarf set down his mug and waved one finger around in a drunken stupor- I've had it up ta' ere with those blasted thugs an' their ambushes. Ya know I resigned for a bloody good reason, lad. I couldn't take two steps through the quiet part of town without some jaggenape jumpin' out at meh, waving those itsy bitsy daggers at me as if it were some sort of weapon they be holdin. Peh... -he waved dismissively- I've seen dwarven women do more damage with a rollin' pin than one of those thugs with their tiny blades. -he sneered, before leaning a bit towards the barkeep, lowering his tone- See, today I had me eyes set on this broad. Oh, she were a tall drink'o booze, she were. So pure, so perfect. Had all the right curves. I couldn't help meself! So I... well, I took 'er. An' well... I went to test 'er out, but it turns out that...


"You abducted one of the townswomen?!" -the bartender slammed the mug on the bar and glared wide-eyed at the dwarf before him, only to be met with a confused look. The two exchanged glares, before the tipsy dwarf's eyes widened, and then he started laughing so loudly, no doubt half the tavern were bothered. Tears welled up in Budrik's eyes as he welled over and hysterically guffaw'd for several minutes, before coming back to his senses.

Edited by Brotato

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Waterdeep was coming to life despite the early hour. Merchants came out to set up their stalls, craftsmen warmed up their forges or gathered their tools, shutters swung open to let in the warming sunlight and sea breeze, and residents trickled into the streets to begin their errands. Aireia stood in one of the streets, glancing around with her golden-flecked, green gaze. The docks rested to her left, obscured by buildings but close enough (or maybe aided by the breeze) for her to hear the shouts and orders of various workers. Light blue hair stirring with the breeze, the female Elf continued walking towards the docks.


The buildings gave way to the coast and the piers, several ships tied down. Barely any resembled another, all of them covering a range of shapes and sizes. Crew members tended to their ships, unloading or loading cargo and supplies, shouting orders at each other, or chatting at the sides. She shifted her travel bag, positioning it more comfortably on her shoulder. Aireia examined the various ships, trying to find the one that was supposed to be the vessel of pirate hunters looking for more crew members.


The idea of asking for directions didn't exactly come to mind. The instant that the thought occurred, she shoved it away. Finally, her eyes fell upon the ship she was looking for and her face brightened, a smile tugging at her lips. Hurrying towards the Shadow of Night, she came to a stop near the rope ladder that the crew used to board and looked up. For a moment, she considered leaving without a word; she didn't know much about sailing and doubted she'd be of much use on a ship. However, she shook her head vigorously and took a deep breath.


Collected, she reached up to grab the rope and -


"What in the great seas are ye doin', lass?"


Aireia jumped, thoroughly startled by the harsh voice behind her. She whirled, staring wide-eyed at the man as her lips began to work overtime, words failing to come out properly. "I, uh, w-w-w-was uh...," she stuttered, fidgeting with her hands, tunic, and bag; anything she could fidget with on her person.


"Relax, lass. I ain't gon' bite ye. Just spit it out what yer doin' here," the man stated impatiently, rolling his dark eyes. He was tall and weathered looking, his hair kept short likely for ease of maintenance, and certainly built for work.


Swallowing, she tried steadying her nerves, drawing within herself. "I-I'm lo-looking for th-th-the captain?" she stated, mentally wincing at the uncertainty of what should have been a definite statement.


The man nodded once and pointed back towards the buildings. "Cap'n Zaknayrr's in the Moonlit Dell. Ye can't miss 'im." Before she could work up the courage to ask another question, the man walked away without another word and she sighed, gaze lowered.


After another moment, she shook her head and made her way towards the Moonlit Dell. Inside, it was a live, mostly with sailors relaxing after a trip or two; their salty stench gave that fact away. It hardly took a moment for Aireia's eyes to adjust, her gaze raking across each occupant until it settled upon a very strange sight.


A Drow.


Instinctively, her body tensed and her fingers itched to grab for her bow that was slung in a protective case across her back. But, her trained senses overrode instinct. No one else was attacking him. Why? Even still, a Dwarf sat next to him, conversing merrily.


Was he the captain the man said was in here? A figure hard to miss?


Again, she swallowed, faintly trembling. Why was a Drow captain of a pirate hunting ship? Surely, this was a trick? Shaking her head, blue hair tossing with the rapid motion, the Moon Elf took a few hesitant steps towards the Drow and Dwarf. "E-E-Excu-use me?" she started, voice cracking slightly as her mouth went dry. She swallowed, starting again. "Excuse me? A-Are you th-the captain of Shadow of Night?" Aireia was rigid, body tense simply from the proximity in which she stood with the Drow.




Mintarn, refuge for pirates. Briagh sucked in the pungent air of soiled rags that mingled with the sea breeze. For all purposes, Mintarn was home and the Shield Dwarf wouldn't have it any other way. Glancing over his shoulder, he frowned at the sight of his damaged ship, a pang of worry creeping upon his heart. His crew was busy working to get it fixed and resupplied; he needed to focus on business at hand.


The Maelstrom Corsairs just fled from an ambush, set by a rival crew, executed between Candlekeep and the Cimarine Isles. The area was being fought over by a few crews, Briagh's included. At least they had managed to get away with the bait. The thought made the Dwarf smirk slightly, a flicker of triumph amongst the weight of defeat. But, bruised and battered, the crew was still strong and the Stormlight was still sailing.


"Le's git a move on!" Briagh shouted at his crew above, waving for the cargo they came to possess to be unloaded. "T'e soon'r we git all this loot traded off, the soon'r we can git t'e ship fixed up an' sailin' once mo'e!"

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It had been a long journey from the heartlands to the coast, but at last they had made it. Alive and well. Grimwald had had a grin on his face the moment he had spotted the high walls of the City of Splendor and he had quickened his pace, all fatigue forgotten. His travel companion hadn’t complained.


They had reached the gates as the morning sun had risen just above the Eastern horizon. The sturdy doors’ steel reinforcements blazed golden in the light of dawn. The two guards at the gates gave them a suspicious look and halted the strange duo. “This happens every. Single. Time.” The elven woman whispered to the unusually tall human.


“HALT!” one of the guards called out. “State your business, giant-kin.”


Grimwald forced a smile on his face. These men were just doing their job and had probably never seen a seven foot tall man. ”Be at ease, sir. I am not giant-kin. We came here to answer the call of the Lords of Waterdeep.” he answered with a coastal accent that betrayed his heritage.


The two guards looked at each other and then to the elven woman. “Alright then. But we’ve marked you. No trouble, do you understand? Or we’ll find you. Move along!”


As they stepped through the gates into the bustling city that had just awoken, his companion sighed. “What?” he challenged. “We’re in, aren’t we? This city has seen stranger creatures seeking entrance than me.” he chuckled. “Let’s find the harbor and ask around.” And with that the two set forth into the sprawling metropolis, navigating through the crowds and streets filled with carts and wares, beasts of burden and hawkers, promising the best price on every possible service a stranger could want. The going was slow, but the duo took their time. It had been a long time since they had visited a city and the presence of people was refreshing. Even if he was somewhat of a spectacle.


Well, refreshing at least for the first hour or so. After a while Grimwald found the throngs of people becoming increasingly oppressive and as they reached the harbor at last, he proposed breakfast. He checked his coin pouch and found it still tucked away safely under his belt. “My treat.” He added to sweeten the deal.


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At last, Kaia thought grimly as the Stormlight arrived to Mintarn and docked somewhat hastily, the crew eager to get ashore and start the repairs on their damaged ship. The sea breeze stirred her short, bleached hair, a few stray locks brushing over her eyes and she angrily swept them aside from obscuring her vision. Alongside the breeze came the stench of the pirate city - rot, ashes, decay, and other things best to be left alone after they have been in the sunlight for too long - mixing with the smell of burning wood and cloth. There was also the not entirely unpleasant smell of smokepowder and salt which clung to the ship. Familiar smells, which all reminded her of a place she could call home if she wanted to. The question remained, should she call the Stormlight her home?


Kaia's thoughts were interrupted as their captain, Briagh Grayhammer, bellowed from above with his mighty voice, attracting the attention of everyone on the ship with ease. "Le's git a move on! T'e soon'r we git all this loot traded off, the soon'r we can git t'e ship fixed up an' sailin' once mo'e!" His shout was followed by some cheerful aye-ayes and the crew hastened the process of unloading the ship of the riches they had plundered from the bait. For their luck, the bait had been quite fat with riches and goods, so their misfortune was repaid generously and many times over. Kaia, who had been sitting on the deck with her back against the second mast, now stood up and walked slowly to Briagh, leaning heavily on her staff as she moved, even taking the stairs only one at a time instead of leaping two at the time like she usually did.


The ambush from which they had just escaped had demanded wounds of all sorts - minor scratches to lethally dangerous stabs alongside countless of bruises. Kaia had tended to the worst wounds, partially by Briagh's order than by her own will, and this had sucked away her strength almost completely. The Cleric then remembered she still had to give a thanking prayer to Istishia, the Water Lord, before the end of the day for allowing her to tap to his powers to aid their escape after the ambush. A sigh escaped from her lips. She really wasn't in a mood to start praising her god, but it couldn't be helped. If she didn't give her prayers, Istishia would either remind her in an unpleasant way or wouldn't help her when she asked for it. No, it was probably for the best to swallow her pride and anger and just give the goddamned prayer. Goddamned prayer for a god. The thought lifted her mood a little.


With this lightened mood, the young human walked up the stairs and faced Briagh. The dwarf had his eyebrows in a slight frown, a crease appearing in between, so she immediately knew that he was worried - but not angry, else the scowl would be deeper. Briagh had been the one to pick her, a scrawny young kid scavenging trash at one of the isles of Moonshae where she had eventually ended after hiding in a cargo ship, to his crew and after discovering her to be a cleric he welcomed her to become a pirate in his crew. After that, Kaia found the ship become her home and the crew her new family, with Briagh becoming a some sort of a father-figure she never had before.


Turning so that she could lean at the railing of the upper level, Kaia let out a long, exhausted sigh and then lazily turned to look at the captain.

"What shall you have me to do, captain?" she asked with a lopsided smile and then stifled a yawn. "I need to eat before anything, tho, the healing isn't a very light job to do," Kaia added. Briagh knew this, of course, but she decided to remind him before he put her to scrub the ship from the dust and smokepowder. Or something worse.

Edited by Gildraug

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Having finally calmed down from his drunken bout of laughter, Budrik wiped a tear off his eye and coughed a few times. Oh, oh me sides! Oh lad, you... you thought I was talkin' about a, ahahah! A woman?! -the dwarf wheezed a few times, too spent for breath to really laugh as loudly as before, before reaching towards his back, and unsheathing his brand new polished to perfection steel broadsword- This be the broad I were talkin' about ye sodden fool! I bought 'er today, she weren't cheap, but worth every piece!


Several of the patrons nearby started to guffaw at the silly miscommunication, while the bartender himself looked no more amused than a man who'd just been smacked on the forehead with an old boot. Covering his face with one hand, the bartender let off a deep sigh and walked away to service his other customers, all to Budrik's approval. The dwarf leaned casually against the bar as the laughs around him gradually subsided.


A somber mood overtook him as his addled mind started wandering into its own darker recesses. His light pockets and gradually more and more uneventful lifestyle were starting to make him feel bent out of shape, and perhaps a little bit too bored with where things were going. Further leaning against the bar, he stared at the bottom of his mug and wistfully watched the booze slosh around as he tilted it back and fourth.


What manner of life was this, when a dwarf had to stoop to lowly things such as hunting petty things just to pay for his next drink? Were he pious, Budrik would have presumed that his ancestors were turning in their graves at the sight of his complacency. A long sigh escaped him as he dropped his mug on the counter, calming his forehead in both hands, wondering how he'd gotten where he was. Nothing but a drunken sodden fool with some shiny equipment.


Eyes tracing around the room, he watched the idle bar-goers go about their business, which was ofcourse nothing more than one would expect. Youths getting wasted, burly men drinking their pain away, and elderly wastes of space seeking solace at the bottoms of their mugs, trying to better remember the days when they had the strength to make any sort of difference. Alas, there is no stopping the passage of time, and Budrik felt as if his path in life was leading towards that very terrible fate of absolute and utter day-to-night hopelessness and dreaded remorse over wasted potential.


oh, and an elf was there, too...

Peh, drows... -he sneered, and emptied his mug.

Then, as one of the bar-goers moved out of the way, he spotted the dwarf accompanying the elf. Scowling lightly, Budrik couldn't help but wonder what one of his own kin was doing with something so bizarre and traitorous as a drow elf. He believed a dwarf always had his mind set on one of two things. One of which was booze, and the other, profit. The elf was definitely not handing drinks out, so that meant there was more to that scene than met the eye.


He decided to observe for the moment, and make his move after a while.

Things had gotten a little more interesting, as a snow elf walked in and started stammering about something...


((Apologies for the edit, I wanted to try something a bit more sudden, random and fun, but I got the thumbs down from OP about the bar brawl so I edited some things out, however thankfully not much has gone out of sync as a result.))

Edited by Brotato

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As they reached the harbor at last, Grimwald proposed breakfast. He checked his coin pouch and found it still tucked away safely under his belt. “My treat.” He added to sweeten the deal.

Calendriel rolled her eyes at that. Water Deep was loud and stinky. It was also crowded with humans, which she assumed was causing the noise and smell in the first place. And now Grimwald was proposing to get drunk, 'cause she knew that's what it was essentially, and contribute to the loud and stinky humans. Then again, getting drunk herself might dull her senses a bit.


"Fine," she said gruffly. Scanning around, she pointed to the nearest in she saw. The sign outside depicted a tankard of frothy ale - not uncommon for inns and taverns - with a small crescent moon shining overhead. How poetic, she thought sarcastically, "one of the artist's has been creative." Entering the building, she ignored the dwarf leaning against the wall outside. Elves and Dwarves did not get along traditionally, and Calendriel wasn't looking for a fight right now.


She ignored the catcalls of the tavern's patrons as she walked in. She was used to the sexist greeting by now - humans were a crude race - and if any of them actually tried anything, she was confident her swords could handle him. "I'll have a honey ale," she told her companion, eschewing the usual Elven favorite of wine while - deliberately - still picking one of the more expensive drinks on the menu. Her purse was getting light and she presumed Grimwald's was too, but that didn't stop her from getting a little monetary revenge for dragging her out here.

Edited by Mistress of Whispers

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The conversation between dwarf and drow was now small banter, with the dwarf often saying that he should send word to Citadel Felbarr, so some of his boys could come and join the crew. Zaknayrr lets out an exaggerated groan, "I can barely suffer with one Diamondcrusher dwarf, how do you expect me to suffer fifteen of you?"


"Bah! Ye're doing a good job o' coping by my estimate, ye orc-brained elf! Besides, ye could use a couple more o' me shield dwarves, don't ye doubt." replied Dangan without missing a beat, clapping a heavy hand down on his friend's shoulder.


Zaknayrr can only smile, and Dangan's heavy hand on his shoulder makes him shake his head, still with the smile on his face. He looks up then, to see a young elven girl taking hesitant steps towards them. He inwardly sighs, but knows that most outside of Waterdeep will have such a reaction towards him, At least she isn't going for a weapon. He notes, but even if she did, the majority of the tavern, merchants and his own crew, would draw their own weapons as soon as she did. Then she began to speak or at least tried to, stammering as she was, so he opened his own mouth to speak, but his companion beat him to it.


"Relax, elf! Ye're trippin' over yer own tongue! By Moradin, ye're more rigid the main mast on the Shadow of Night! Never seen an elf so uptight," finishes Dangan before roaring with laughter which earns him a sharp elbow in the ribs from Zaknayrr. Unfortunately for the elf, it only makes him laugh harder.


"I apologize for my friend, but yes. I am the Captain of the Shadow of Night. I am Zaknayrr Rilynath and who, pray tell, are you?" he asks, looking at the elf curiously.


Dangan meanwhile manages to calm himself before Zaknayrr asks his question and he notes two more figures, an elf and a human so tall he would bet his finest gems that the lad had giant blood in him. One thing is for certain though, from the look of their clothes, they weren't from around the Sword Coast.

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As the Dwarf began to mock her and laugh, Aireia took a step back and chewed her lower lip, looking down at her feet. The Moon Elf shifted her weight from foot to foot, faintly looking up as the Drow introduces himself. He seemed pleasant enough, certainly not as loud as the Shield Dwarf, but Aireia didn't trust him. She was, by no means, afraid of him but standing straighter and speaking was easier said than done. Especially after the kind of reaction she had gotten from the Dwarf.


Swallowing, she lifted her chin as best as she had courage to muster. Her green and gold eyes took in the strange pair before her, focus mostly on the Drow and examining his body language; she was wary of an underhanded attack. Her fingers curled against her palms, urging for the comforting feel of her bow as her ears strained for the echo of the strumming of a bowstring.


But she resisted. Inhaling deeply, she shoved such desires down as much as possible; it wouldn't do to start a fight where one was not occurring. "M-My name is Aireia Faelandaerl. I am lo-looking for a job as a p-pirate hunter and I-I was told your sh-ship had some openings?" She bit her tongue, mentally berating herself for stuttering as much as she did. In front of a Drow even! Thinking on it, she should have turned around immediately without approaching him. He likely stole the ship and kidnapped the crew and the only reason why no one was acting out was for fear of death.


At the thought, her eyes narrowed with suspicion and she dug her nails into her palms, ignoring the flicker of discomfort it caused. In this second, it was all that kept her from drawing the dagger sheathed at her hip.




Seeing Kaia make her way slowly to him, Briagh's worried expression only deepened. "Aye, lass, git some food an' rest; ye done did good," he told her. "When yer rested, I'll have ye help me wit' sortin' what's left fer t'e crew." Scratching his bearded chin, the Shield Dwarf shifted his glance downward towards the rest of the ship, bustling with busy crew members. "Maybe I'm gittin' soft or sumthin' but, lass, it's gon git tougher from 'ere. Are ye ready ta 'andle t'e rough seas? Thar's word o' hunters growin' in number and all t'e crews are startin' ta stress. If I can help it, I won' be lettin' any of me crew go down. But tis why I'm askin' this. If ye wan'ta 'ead off, I can git ye started."


The Dwarf seemed to pause, his gaze intense. Finally, he shook his head and broke into a grin, laughter in his eyes. He was hiding his worry, his fears. "Pah! Git rested up now, lass! We 'ave work to git done today!" Patting the girl's arm (about as high as he could comfortably reach), Briagh hurried down the wooden steps that separated him from the main deck and began delegating jobs, lifting a crate almost as wide as he was (albeit awkwardly) and toting it to the rope ladder draped over the left side of the ship. Someone on the dock was waiting to catch the cargo that could be dropped down easily while a few more men, further down the dock, helped to level out a platform that would carry down the less manageable items.


Once he was certain that the cargo they'd obtain was being handled as needed, Briagh climbed down and made his way to the shore, directing his path to a shabby building that was almost always crowded. The Sandy Tavern was, unsurprisingly, loud and full with boastful men and frisky women (with the exceptions in between). Those that wanted more peace for themselves were huddled towards the sides and back. Those who were more lively and sociable filled the center and front. The woman Briagh was looking for favored the back of the tavern, usually nursing a pint whenever he saw her.


She was fair looking despite the smudges of grime on her face and drab clothes, a tool belt secured around her hips. Raven hair framed her face with barely-controlled curls, coming to rest on her shoulders. She was a woodworker, specialized in making and repairing ships for ungodly prices. But, if you were lucky, you might get a discount or a nice deal. "Briagh! I see you survived your last excursion?" the woman greeted, her voice husky from years of inhaling wood dust and pipe smoke.


"Ah, Christa, I always do! Ye know me!" Briagh replied, sidling into the chair next to her. For a human, she was short, hardly half a foot taller than the Shield Dwarf. "I do need some repairs on me ship. It don't look like too much damage but I'd rather 'ave a trained eye assess tha'."


Christa nodded, finishing her drink. "Fine. I'll have a look but I won't know how soon I'll get her fixed up until after I do and double check my supplies. At the latest, I can guarantee three days. Hopefully, knowing you, I can get Stormlight back in shape by sundown today."


The Dwarf grinned, laughing. "Yer a skilled worker, Christa. I've faith in ya!"

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Grimwald flinched as his companion ordered an expensive ale, but he approached the bartender to order it anyway. It was his treat after all.


"Good morning. What will you have?" the bartender asked as Grimwald reached the bar between an old man nursing a hot bowl of broth and a dockworker drinking away his wages.


"I'll have a mug of your finest honey ale and a shot of brandywine, to go with some hearty breakfast. We've had a long journey." Grimwald said as he put a few coins on the bar, hoping it would be enough. "And maybe you can tell me where we can sign up for the pirate hunt?"


"Honey ale, brandywine and breakfast coming right up. Just put down another silver coin, son. We're not in the countryside here." As Grimwald put down another of his precious silver coins, the bartender grinned and told him: "As for a pirate hunter, ye might want to talk to the captain over by the window." and he pointed to the table where the elf girl was talking with the dwarf and the drow.


As Grimwald followed with his gaze, his blood froze. A Drow! Immediately his hand shot to his sword and with a loud ringing of steel, he drew the blade. Evil was sitting right in their midst.

"By Mystra's magic b..." he faltered. "Cal, do you see that?" Before he'd plunge his sword in the dark elf's chest, he wanted to make sure the long journey with an elf hadn't addled his brains...

Edited by Biologist

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Kaia's lopsided smile widened slightly as she watched Briagh's expression get even more worried when he noticed how tired she actually was.

"Aye, lass, git some food an' rest; ye done did good. When yer rested, I'll have ye help me wit' sortin' what's left fer t'e crew," Briagh said and inspected the crew while scratching a bearded chin. Kaia also angled herself so she could see what the crew was doing - bustling about, of course, with enthusiasm unhindered by their drawback, jokes thrown with ease in the flow of the work followed by guffaws or roaring laughter, alongside cheerfully yelled replies.


"Maybe I'm gittin' soft or sumthin' but, lass, it's gon git tougher from 'ere. Are ye ready ta 'andle t'e rough seas? Thar's word o' hunters growin' in number and all t'e crews are startin' ta stress. If I can help it, I won' be lettin' any of me crew go down. But tis why I'm askin' this. If ye wan'ta 'ead off, I can git ye started," Briagh said, unease apparent in his voice as he still stared at the bustling crew. Kaia turned and rested her elbows against the railing and leaning. The question was a serious one, so she considered it for a good while. Pirate hunters. That was, of course, bad news for them, but an angelic choir for the common and the merchants. They were no doubt supported by the local lords, so they would have good ships and equipment, not to even mention the crew. Briagh was not exaggarating by saying it would be getting rough at the seas even when the water was calm.

"Rough seas I can handle. It is what comes after the storm that I'm worried about," Kaia said, her sharp eyebrows in a slight frown and she sighed. "Look, I have no better place to be. Where would I go? Back to Waterdeep to the temple where the most exciting thing I can do is to offer a prayer outside during a storm? Bah, no thanks. I'd eventually find myself in another pirate ship and scavenging the seas - and I'd prefer the ship to be this one. Wouldn't want to be opposing you." Those words were rare honest ones. Her life had always lacked a meaning, a destination. She had acquired something when she devoted her life to Istishia, but staying in the temple and doing nothing but pray frankly didn't catch her interest. No, the life as a pirate was all she could ask for and this was the path she had decided to stay on.

"Pah! Git rested up now, lass! We 'ave work to git done today!" Briagh grinned and pat her on the arm before he made his way on the deck to delegate jobs, helping them himself like a true leader. Kaia thought she had seen a flash of worry before Briagh had concealed his fear and sorrow, but she decided not to worry - the Dwarf cared about his crew like a family so it was normal for him to be anxious at times.


Kaia walked down the wooden steps on the main deck and from there descended to the hold, where hammocks were swinging slowly as the waves rocked the ship. It was dark, with a few oil lamps illuminating the inside aside from the light which shone through the hatch from which she had descended. A smell of wet clothes and unwashed people hit her nose, a stench she would've gagged at earlier, but Kaia had gotten quite used to strong smells when they were on a ship or at the sea. She navigated her way past the wooden tables and benches so old they were gray with age, the piles of stinking clothes and bulks of chests with the crew's valuables within, and finally found the mess hall at the bow of the hold, where the cook was calmly chopping some vegetables into a giant stew he was making. He didn't even raise his eyes from the work when she entered, the knife turning a carrot into itsy bits within seconds.

"I told ye already, Norward, food is not ready!" the cook said with a slightly annoyed tone which contrasted with the pleasant voice. He was a thick man with a good collection of scars on himself, including one which had demanded his right eye and had twisted his smile into an eternal, if somewhat creepy smile. The pale scars stood against his ebony black skin and his greying stub highlighted his sharp jawline. He had been handsome once, Kaia thought, maybe twenty years ago.

"Nothing even for your hard-working cleric, Windsor?" she asked, her tone in a pretended surprise. The cook lifted his eyes from his work and grinned when he saw who was standing at his doorway. Windsor quickly wiped his hands on his already-dirty apron which covered his breeches and cotton shirt and walked to Kaia, patting her on her shoulder and then leading her into the kitchen.

"Kaia, Kaia, Kaia. I should've known ye would come here, hah! Healing's not as easy as it looks, eh? What shall I get for ye?" Windsor asked as he seated Kaia on a bench with a small table before it - probably where the cook ate his own food.

"Anything, really. I'm going to drop and die soon so anything goes," she replied and put her staff down and leaned against the wall, enjoying the rest.

"Aha! Well, I have some of yesterdays meat and a couple of potatoes. I'll also throw a raw carrot or two, I hope ye don't mind. Yer meal is done in a slight hurry, I apologize, but I have a monster with countless of hungry heads to be fed before sunset," Windsor talked as he prepared Kaia's meal, his hands moving with speed and ease which could only be acquired by years of working. She didn't really listen, but allowed the words to flow from one ear to the other, simply enjoying the sound. Windsor was one of the rare people she could actually stand for longer than a few minutes, alongside with Briagh.


"Heeere you go!" Windsor said as he set a wooden plate before Kaia, with a warmed steak and fried potatoes alongside two carrots on the side. He then proceeded on bringing a tankard with mild beer to wash it all down. Kaia thanked him and then ate the food like a starved wolf, receiving some humored comments from the cook. She swore she could almost feel her energy levels rising back up as she enjoyed the last of her beer while sitting peacefully. But there was still work to be done, so Kaia thanked Windsor for his hospitality and then left the kitchen, making her way to the deck. No longer was she leaning on her staff, but now her strides were long and purposeful.

"Angie, where did our good captain go?" Kaia asked a passing crewmember. She shrugged in response and said something about Sandy Tavern. Kaia considered whether she should stay or find Briagh out - staying would be probably for the best.


Kaia soon found herself standing on the pier, walking to the general direction where a sailor had said Sandy Tavern was located.

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Calendriel's hands went to the swords crossed behind her back, as soon as Grimwald drew his. Her companion was more rash than she, but he was also often right. Following his gaze, she spotted the Drow. Ugh. She didn't comment on the Dark Elf's presence directly, but her voice dripped with distaste as she spoke. "He appears to be welcome here, and those people talking to him don't seem to be laboring under any compulsion." With that, she lowered her hands from her swords, though she did not turn back around. Shaking her head, a forceful movement which sent the beads and ornaments in her red braids ringing softly against each other, she continued to watch the conversation between the Darkling and one of her own kin. She wondered again why she'd let Grimwald persuade her to come here. Bad this city was full of humans and dwarves, and now it had a Drow.

Edited by Mistress of Whispers

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Eyes darting towards the Drow sitting some ways away from him, Budrik struggled to make out what he was saying. Still, maybe it wasn't any of his business. That elf was probably one of those merchant folk who pass by all the time. "As for a pirate hunter, ye might want to talk to the captain over by the window." -he overheard the bartender speak to another patron. Looking towards them, Budrik's eyes widened when he spotted where the barkeep's finger pointed. The bloody elf, a ship's captain? -his eyes narrowed as he felt a pressure on his chest. That smelly Drow probably sees more action and rakes in more gold than him, or the majority of the dwarves he'd seen in town. Bollocks! -he pushed his now empty mug of ale and went to get off his chair, just in time to see the aforementioned patron draw his weapon.


Is he thinkin' of assaulting the sodding elf?! -he gritted his teeth and went right for the man, grabbed him by the arm holding the weapon and immediately grumbled as quietly as he could. Are ye daft, ye soddin' humie?! Din' ye hear what 'e was? No doubt e's got at least a bunch of his crew in this blasted tavern. They always do! How ye think they'll react when ye' go around swinging that thing at their boss? -he scowled, let go of the man's arm, and gestured by dragging his thumb across his throat.

Edited by Brotato

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Zaknayrr nods in response to Aireia's inquiry, "That we do, Lady Faelandaerl. As it is, we have an opening for the First Mate. Not many are keen on serving beneath a Drow elf, as I'm sure you can understand."


Besides him, Dangan grumbles, "Durned fools, the lot o' them. Can't get past their own prejudices. Can't judge a man, or in this case, a stinkin' elf, for who he is."


Zaknayrr half turns to look at the dwarf, "It is a prejudice that is well placed, I fear. Long has my evil kin been the way they are, I can attest to that first hand. But I find myself thinking those same words as well," he laments but then he shrugs, turning back to look at Aireia. "What is one to do? It is the way of things and unless my kin can find the will to resist Lolth and her evil way, they will never again be able to dance again under the stars. Unfortunately, I do not see that happening anytime soon."


"So, I ask you, will yo-" He was interrupted when the sound of multiple swords coming free of their sheathes sound beside them and a quick look around reveals fifteen of his crew members, with weapons drawn, watching a rather large giant of a man and a smaller elf female looking at him. The man however, is holding a sword and Zaknayrr can easily guess what his intent is. A dwarf that he didn't see before went at the man in an attempt to stay his hand and was muttering something, to dissuade him or to help him, Zaknayrr can't say for sure. He does sigh, it usually plays out like this, he just hopes a fight can be averted. As he takes another look around and he notes with dismay as much as gratitude, that some of the merchants have also brought a hand to their own weapons and are also watching the huge man.


"Who are you that dares draw arms against Captain Zaknayrr!?" yells one of the merchants who is sitting at the bar, his hand on the hilt of a falchion.

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He agressively answered the challenge of the boastful buffoon with one of his own.


"Who are you to think that this so called Captain is too weak to defend himself? Maybe you are his bedwarmer and only get to see his soft side?"


Grimwald was not convinced the Drow was as 'safe' as the rest of the inn seemed to think. The cool reaction of Calendriel proved to him that this Drow had some mind magic going on to fool these poor people into believing he wasn't a dark elf. The comments of the dwarf and the other man just confirmed his belief he was the only one seeing the truth.


He quickly looked around the room at the comment of the dwarf who held his wrist to stay his blade. He counted a dozen or more swords facing his own. I've had worse odds... he thought, calculating and assessing the situation with a cold dispassionate look, a sure sign of a seasoned warrior.

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Calendriel sighed whistfully as she took another sip of honey ale. She very much doubted that she'd be able to finish her drink now. Humans, Dwarves, Drow and one *very* stubborn giant. She considered if she could say something to diffuse the situation, but really, she'd never known Grimwald to back down from anything. He probably thought a room full of armed sailors just added to the challenge. Setting her tankard down on the bar, Calendriel let her body flow into a defensive stance. She called to mind the incantation for turning her skin to stone, while dipping her fingers in a pouch to retrieve the necessary ingredients. She did not draw her swords yet though. While Calendriel was loyal enough that she would stand by her companion if it came to that, she wasn't spoiling for a fight - even with a Drow.

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Aw hell. -Budrik waved dismissively as he turned his back against the large man with the drawn weapon. If there was going to be a fight, he was definitely going to be part of it, but there was still a very particular issue that needed considering. This ere's my favorite tavern, ye cubby coon. I won' have ye tearin' up the place just cuz ye don' like the color o' tha spiky-eared sea cucumber. -he scowled heavily as he draw his broadsword and shield, walked casually over to the Drow and his companions, pulled up a chair and sat down, laying his sword between his legs, hand still firmly on the hilt, as he coldly stared at the human.


If it's a scruff ye wan' it's a scruff ye'll get. But if ye plan on doin' it in 'ere, yer pressed for luck. -he casually proclaimed as he reached over and grabbed an abandoned mug of ale, took a big chug, then immediately spat it out and threw the mug away. Blaaaa-aaargh, this tastes like halfling piss mixed with burned month-old barley!

Edited by Brotato

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Oh great, now the Dwarf was getting involved too.

"Before you go pick a fight with a Drow *and* a Dwarf," Calendriel said to her companion, "consider that they might be a lot older and more experienced than they look." She paused to give the Drow and Dwarf a once-over, then amended with a hint of sarcasm, "well, the *Drow* might be older than he looks."

Edited by Mistress of Whispers

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