Wizard's Wrath Introduction

Wizard's Wrath is tabletop game set in a growing fantasy world. This world has been in development for nearly twenty years, undergoing various stages and rule sets. The 4^th edition D&D rules are easy for beginners, so we're sticking with it, with a few minor house-rules to make things interesting.

So here is an introduction to Archanon, the world of Wizard's Wrath. It's a big world, I'll try to make this succinct. Okay, you know what? Screw that! It's just a long-ass back-story.

Twin Worlds

Archanon is a parallel world to Earth, where magick is much more potent. (wizards write magic with a “k” at the end to distinguish The Art from parlor tricks). It is said that long ago, just before the rise of Egypt as a civilization, powerful magi erected portals between Earth and Archanon. Mystics traveled back and fourth, establishing a secret network of hidden knowledge, science and religion. Tales of a hidden world of orcs, elves, fairies, dragons and gryphons spread throughout the Earth world in the form of myths. Yet, no one had ever witnessed these fantastic creatures on Earth. The sages of Archanon theorized that the heavy un-magickal nature of Earth was toxic to all but humans, who could come and go as they pleased.

Folklore was not the only way Archanon influenced our world. All of Earth's most ancient pantheons shared gods of different names, but similar attributes. The god Thoth in Egypt was Hermes in Greece. In the North, the vikings crowned this deity as king and named him Odin the All-Father. Similarly, the gods of Archanon are essentially the same as the ones of Earth, sometimes even sharing the same names. Of these gods and goddesses, two ruled supreme during Archanon's Age of Myth – Johvan the Father and Gaia the Mother. Together they maintained peace, justice and prosperity in the growing Archani kingdoms.

The Fall of Johvan

At some point during the Age of Myth, Johvan fell ill and his temperament changed for the worst. He became a tyrant, toying with the fates of mortals and demanding exclusive worship. He became mad with power, and waged war on the lesser gods and their mortal worshipers for control of the people of Archanon. Gaia, could stand his madness no longer. She birthed a human son named Aleph Wraith and taught him the ways of High Magick - a method of spiritual ascension allowing mortals to enter the God Realm. Only by this magick, could mortals challenge the gods in their own turf. Wraith would later teach and lead mortals to battle against Johvan and his allies. Johvan knew of Gaia's betrayal. After all, It was him, in human guise who impregnated her human form and conceived Wraith. He watched her patiently over the years as the boy grew, believing her efforts to be futile. However, when he found a powerful relic missing from their bedchamber, he confronted her in a fit of rage. This relic was none other than the Holy Grail. They had inherited the golden chalice from the Supernal Realm – a place beyond the gods, where Johvan and his siblings were born before the creation of Time and Space. Any mortal who drank from this cup would be as one of them. She intended to deliver it to “the little savior” as he mockingly called the young mage. In a murderous rampage, he hurled Gaia, his once beloved Queen, down to the mortal realm with a lightning strike. The Grail slipped from their struggle and fell against the Archanon's tallest peak, breaking the relic into six fragments scattered throughout the world. To this day, Gaia's spirit is said to dwell in the very planet of Archanon.

Wraith's Pact

When Aleph Wraith learned of his mother's demise, he knew his studies were over. It was time to practice what he'd learned. He set out with a group of brave heroes and retrieved all six fragments of the Holy Grail. In the end, he solved the mystery of the Grail and challenged Johvan to a duel. Johvan revealed himself as Wraith's true father, but the wizard was unmoved. They made a wager. If Wraith could best Johvan in a magick battle, all gods were to cease their meddling in mortal affairs. If Johvan won, Wraith's life would be forfeit, never to reincarnate in the world of Archanon. A cosmic battle ensued. The wizard and the patriarch god destroyed one another. All gods, friend and foe, were bound by this pact. With Johvan gone, they never again interfered with mortals. The denizens of Archanon have celebrated Wraith as their savior ever since. This brought about a new era, the Age of Reason. Man was no longer bound to honor the Old Gods. There rose a new form of spirituality independent of gods, where men and women of all races sought their own Inner Light. These events took place just over two thousand years. Today, some scholars doubt that the gods ever existed in the first place. In contrast, there are small fringe groups of cultists who actively trying to summon The Old Gods back into the world.

The Great Sorcery

Remember the gates between Earth and Archanon I mentioned earlier? It is no more. How so? Shortly after Wraith's sacrificial victory, there were still many servants loyal to Johvan. A small elite group of zealot magi evoked their patron god. A wounded Johvan could only be heard as feint whispers in their minds. Under his direction, they infiltrated The Great White Brotherhood – a secret order of mystics devoted to the enlightenment of all races in many worlds. An order of White Brothers known as Nexus Guardians served as inter-dimensional gate keepers, veiling their location from the masses. They governed the flow of people and information across the worlds. Only a select few could pass. Having attained the needed clearance, the Dark Brothers (as the loyalists would late be called) escaped their native world and regrouped on Earth. This time period coincided with Earth's first century, during the height of the Roman Empire.

They saw a world of devout pagans, with initiatory rites similar to those of Archanon before Johvan's Fall. Somehow Earth had remained untouched by the ravages of Archanon's holy wars. That wouldn’t do at all! So they watched and waited for an opportunity to revive their creed in this new world. They became fond of Paul of Tarsus, and his brand of what he called “Christianity.” The Dark Brothers deemed it close enough to the worship of Johvan, and secretly helped him rise to prominence. Still the time wasn't right. Pagans rejected the notion of salvation through Christ and his clergy. They waited. After all, wizards could live for centuries. Time was on their side. With the rise of Constantine the Great in 306 CE, when the empire became officially Christian, they knew the time was right. They launched a magick attack against the White Brotherhood from within their own ranks. Even the Church Fathers were mere pawns in this Great Sorcery. The Dark Brothers weaved a curse so powerful, the people of Earth bowed without needing evidence that their god actually existed. They destroyed pagan temples, the art and sculptures therein, and persecuted all heathens. They enslaved Earth's Western hemisphere under a faith almost identical to that of Johvan, whom they now called Jehovah.

Earth's Great White Order was nearly decimated. Brothers scattered throughout the world, living in secrecy as hermits in forests, deserts and mountains. Superstitions and dead rituals ruled the land. With the power they now amassed, the Dark Brothers planned to march back into Archanon with an army of Christian warriors. Only one man was powerful enough to foil their march. Merlin, one of Earth's greatest wizards, managed to escape persecution and flee to the Great Pyramids in Cairo, where the gate still stood, hidden from the world. He battled and killed the Dark Brothers posing as Nexus Guardians and severed the link between worlds, crossing to Archanon before closing the gate permanently. Now the Dark Brothers wanted holy war, they would have to settle for the Crusades in the eleventh century.

The Arcanum Arcanorum

The nations of Archanon prospered without gods. That didn't mean they automatically became peace-loving. Nations such as the Kingdom of Lothaire expanded their borders and conflict was inevitable. The wizard became an elite force in any military conflict, disproportionately more powerful than troops of armored soldiers. However, not everyone had the gift for The Art. Magick training was a rigorous process, with few graduates from a sea of neophytes. Nevertheless, many common folk began to distrust magick users. The Great White Brotherhood had to intervene. They instituted The Conclave as a ruling body in order to prevent magick users from abusing their powers. The holy order became publicly known as The Arcanum Arcanorum (Mystery of Mysteries), or The Great Order. Initiation into their ranks was open to men and women of every race through a series of ten degrees. These were designed to invoke progressively higher levels consciousness in the initiate. The Order gave it's members a moral compass by which to exercise their wills in harmony with the will of The Universe. They called this discipline True Will.

Under the Great Order the study of magick grew into various branches, informing the natural sciences. Alchemists learned to tap into the planet's natural mana springs and create mana crystals. These multicolored crystals stored elemental magick capable of powering many spells or even daily commodities such as light, heat, and refrigeration. This and other advances helped improve public relations and dissuade superstitions about the wizard community.

The Wizard Wars

In the years 1968 and 1975 Post Wraith (32 and 25 years before the current campaign), Archanon saw the eruption of two great wars. There were two factions fighting secret wars through the ages. They remain rivals to this day. Conservatives believe magick is a precious commodity that should be reserved to an elite few. Liberals believe magick is the birthright of every sentient being, and necessary for the evolution of the races. Zarghos was a charismatic leader of the conservative party. He became increasingly extremist until he went rogue. Under the spell of Zarghos' rhetoric, there was a new breed of Dark Brothers sowing strife within The Order. He ultimately died in the first war, but returned as a Lich in the Second Wizard's War. It took the combined might of The Great Alliance between humans, elves and dwarves of various nations to press the offensive against his fortified tower in the Frozen Spire.

Seven heroes were instrumental in bringing down Zarghos. This was the first complete tabletop campaign in Wizards Wrath. This was the group's make up:

Note: These are familiar names throughout the realm. If you're making a character to join the campaign, he or she may be familiar with them, depending on intelligence/history modifiers.

Human party leader, Controller/Range Striker: Lucius of Daleth, a cunning and arrogant Battlemage who was Merlin's brightest apprentice.

Human, Striker: Raidax of Blades, a daring wanderer who became a Blademaster.

Dwarf, Guardian: Knog Ragefist of the Ragefist Clan, a family bastard with something to prove who became a Mountain Guardian.

Human, Striker/Heavy: Turock The Great, a Barbarian Warrior who later became the Nomad King.

Human, Guardian: Sir Alterack van Orden of Lothaire, a Knight Champion who later became a defensive Blademaster.

Elf, Range Striker: Lord Leetheus Rivenmyst of Khandalore, an Elven Ranger who later became High Lord of the Elven Nation.

Troll, Striker/Heavy: Skullbasher, a sub-intelligent Troll Berserker who was capable of reason and moral values.

Lucius led his party on a hunt for the Grailstone fragments to reassemble the Holy Grail, which had been lost with Wraith's ascension nearly two millennia before. In the final battle, when all seemed lost, Lucius retrieved the last stolen fragment from Zarghos and used it to banish the Lich from the living world. The heroes returned to their homeland as champions and kings, each with a fragment of the Grail. All except Raidax, who was a perpetual adventurer. They settled as keepers of their respective Grailstone fragments. If any force threatened Archanon's future, they could reunite once more, reassemble the Holy Grail and kick ass.

The World Archanon Now

You stand at a crucial time in the history of Archanon. With the restoration of the United Kingdom of Daleth under the rule of King Lucius, the world is acquiring a taste for liberty. Medieval social taboos no longer sway the masses as they once did. Nobles and peasants enjoy equal rights. The commonwealth of Daleth and it's allies allow for free education to all. An industrial revolution is in full gear, generating new technology such as firearms and the steam engine. The mass production of mana crystals supply clean energy to whole cities.

Not everyone is eager to embrace change. Under the rule of King Alterack van Orden, the Kingdom of Lothaire proclaims itself an empire. Lucius and Alterack, once friends in the Second War, have grown apart with differing ideologies. Towns under the rule of Lothaire are rife with discrimination and racial tension between civilized orcs and their human “overlords.” By clinging to the status quo of old draconian values, Lothaire is on the bring of economic meltdown. Whole squads of loyal paladins have been laid off from public service, replaced by questionable mercenaries called the Black Guard. Organized crime and political corruption is rampant. As if that wasn't bad enough, you hear rumors of cultists coming ever closer to summoning the Old Gods.

With tensions growing between these two nations, and robed fanatics running around in old temples, you feel as though even you could play a part in tipping the scales and making a difference in the world.

Welcome to Wizard's Wrath: Ascension.

Ani Peraveda Melonball Wandninja Glister Gloaming THE FOURTH.

While all this drama was going on down the hall, Videro kept returning to those darn on/off switches, on the statues.  Switches!  Preposterous.  He leaned down, with  his eyes still on the pedestal, picked up his fallen cloak, murmuring about dust, and shook it out.  An angry purple ball of wooly fluff tumbled out, deep indigo, nearly the color of Videro's rich velvety cloak.  The fluff swooped up, grabbed Videro by the point of his collar, and slapped him smartly across the face.  It actually stung a little bit!  "I was SLEEPING you fiend, you insensitive jerk", the fluff spat.  Videro's eyes focused.  There was a pixie an inch away from his nose, with one foot planted firmly on his sternum.  An angry pixie.   "Just...just...how...dare you. I am Ani Peraveda Melonball Wandninja Glister Gloaming the FOURTH!  I demand an apology!!!" she sputtered, and continued on cursing and shaking him by the point of his ornate collar. Videro immediately tuned her out, while he tried to put together just how this being got into his clothes, his precious clothes.

Earlier that week, Ani took residence among the wings of the baby dragons. It was dark, it was warm, and there was all kinds of interesting traffic.  She had fun flashing around, terrorizing the tourists, pinching them and stealing their baubles.  Her minuscule attention span was already totally over this hobby, and Ani was making to pack up and wander to the next dungeon.  That's when the Very Interesting group bumbled into her lair.  Oh, they nearly got themselves slain by the big guy in the middle! Hysterics.  Moving in for a closer look, she nested at the feet of the big guy, and watched them shuffle around the perimeter of the room, like some kind of silly dancers.  Stuffing both tiny fists into her mouth, to stifle her peals of laughter, she just hung back and watched.  It got ugly there for awhile, the idiots triggered the baby angels...maybe she should turn them off...but nah, this was too interesting.  They took SO long, though.  Ani slid off the statue, tiptoeing in for a closer look, and nearly tripped over a REALLY soft piece of cloth.  Divine providence!  She snuggled down in it, and watched the adventurers raptly...or till she fell asleep, 3 minutes later.

Kouri's Goodbye

After witnessing Henry Senior dispatch the last shambling zombie, Kouri dropped her gory falchion.  She slid down the wall, into a half crouch, and put her head in her enormous dinner-plate hands.  The undead always unnerved her, always scared her, but this was to be too much.  

They'd been fighting for days, maiming, killing, even torturing.  This isn't what she signed on for, when she left the grove for "adventure", these people, while courageous in their own way, were not the heroes of stories, they were bloodthirsty and greedy, crass and rowdy.  Even Faolan didn't seem the same. He grew more savage and distancy.  Tonight had been the last of it.  Trying to save her friends, she got beaten almost to death, and flung around a room by statues. Statues!  Then, forgetting all of her wise mentor's training, everything she'd ever gained in overcoming her animal nature, she charged into battle like a common animal, goring a walking corpse with her majestic horns.  Frightened, traumatized, frustrated, and scared more than anything she could ever recall, Kouri slid deeper into a curled ball, and didn't move for a long time.  No one really noticed anything different, at first, thinking she was just exhausted from the fight, which was half truth.  She began to pray.  Praying for answers, praying for strength, guidance, anything.  The rhythmic whispered chanting provided comfort, and lulled her into a trancelike state.  She lost the world around her, the murky dungeon fell away, the sounds of post combat joking, groaning, looting fell away.  Everything but the prayers fell away.  

She quieted her heart, and listened.  Nothing came.  The sounds came back, the smells came back, the crushed zombie gristle under her left hoof came back...and she felt no different.  Picking up her pack, and reclaiming her sword, she resigned herself to moving on, again.  Plodding forward, deeper into the morass, both of her emotions, and in this very real, and very disgusting place.  Not understanding their mission, not feeling like she was even doing anything useful.  

Out of nowhere, a breeze came.  A breeze EXACTLY like the cool, piny morning shade in her beloved bower, lifted her mane and filled all her senses with a brief but immense joy.  It was pines and deep loamy leaves! It was sunshine and endless green water. The breeze came from deep below, eddied and swirled past her, and rushed up the stair case they'd recently descended.  Up.  Out.    She looked around, and no one seemed touched by the same wind, no one even noticed.  In that brief instant, she'd heard the answer to her prayer, and realized that to stay here one minute more was suicide, slow, agonizing suicide.  She could teach more people her way! She could care for her beloved forest!  There was more for her out there.  

She was losing her magic, losing herself, losing her best friend and companion, her steadfast wolf, continuing this path of destruction.  Hopefully her companions would understand.  She watched them now, with tears in her velvety brown eyes, knowing what she'd have to say.  This would be the hardest thing she'd ever done in her life.  

The Psychology of Chris's Characters, written by Chris

How do I start a character? Usually with an idea. Back in the day when
I gamed 'round Colonia, Rahway and other points in Middlesex and Union
counties I always endeavored to make something odd. I always had
satisfaction when I'd tell my former friend Brian about my character
then he'd get all Derrida on it coming within a red cunthair of saying
it's stupid and I'm stupid for thinking of it. My character, my idea
and he's not even the fucking game master.


Here's my Wold-Newton family. Theodore Aloysius Blackwood had a rich
family who loved him enough to enroll Theodore at an exclusive private
school but they didn't love him enough to actually love him. The
expenditure of money was how they expressed affection. Even the
enrollment was for Theodore's own good. Throughout his childhood he
was talking to imaginary friends who were spirits, souls which
gathered about him to communicate with the living even if it was a
monosyllabic whisper. The first semester was hell, suffering
atrocities at the hands of teachers and students alike while being
forgotten during holiday break left to fend for himself on the
abandoned campus. At the start of the spring semester in his 10th year
of life he was going to be sexually assaulted again but this time the
schoolmates would murder him and stuff the little corpse into a trunk
never to be found. When he awoke everyone on campus was dead. Bodies
half-hidden under bushes, windows dark and broken and he was called to
meet with the Tremere. The Chantry of the Silver Moon raised him from
that point and when he reached the age of eighteen they brought him
across into their ranks. He found true love with a mortal woman eighty
years later and spent his time trying to figure out how to regain his
mortality so he could die of old age with her.


Someplace with a little more color, four colors to be certain, with
some grittiness power is wielded with abandon. Dexter Norton, son of
Ed Norton, had adventures as a young man with his sewer worker cum
adventurer father. Ed Norton, working the NYC sewers, found an ancient
city deep below New York City and acquired fame. In Dexter's fifteenth
year he lost his left eye in a helicopter crash. Dexter studied
science, acquired his Masters very early and was scouted by VIPER to
be one of their powered armor devs. He didn't know he was working for
VIPER, just a government contractor, and when he realized he was one
of the bad guys he took the Adder armor prototype and escaped before
it could be pressed into service. Slipping into obscurity as a pet
store owner in a town somewhere in Essex County he kept below the
radar by day but came out as Black Adder at night.


As the game progressed I decided he was going to be a womanizer and
like drinking. Honest to goodness I didn't know jack or shit about
Tony Stark at the time. To my credit I didn't go anywhere near that.
Plus Dexter's protectiveness of his secret ID went pathological where
he was one person in the armor and another out of the armor.
Adventures wore on, he proved himself to be the most capable member of
the superteam Checkmate (much to Brian's chagrin). Rumor has it that
he endd up creating a multinational corporation which raised an island
in the Pacific which became his sovereign land. He fathered two
daughters who found him when they grew into women. Carolina and
Xiomara. The former adored him, the latter despised him but it ended
up that Xiomara took over when she realized Dexter was attempting
something great for a new age of humanity. Carolina wanted to hand it
over to coalition led forces so they could chop it up as they saw fit.
Xiomara had Carolina assassinated, announced how the country would
surrender and set a timeframe for a bloodless invasion. She took her
father's work, sent many into waiting generation ships high in orbit
and when the coalition set foot onto an empty island many nuclear
devices were detonated as the ships sped into the yawning void. For
centuries they wandered as gypsies between the stars, never
encountering other life nor their own peoples, before turning back
home. The final scene as I always saw it was one of Dexter's
descendants sitting in the captain's chair on the bridge watching
Earth rise in the windows before giving the orders to read all
weapons.


Should you happen to lift up a rock you'd find The City. Someplace in
southern Canada, a placeholder for Toronto for Americans who care less
for their northern neighbor. Monty Prince, a medical student, got
lucky one night with the woman of his dreams. Before he blacked out he
remembered his mouth being full of cold coppery liquid. Awakening he
saw Lucy staring at him in all her glory. Two abyssal eyes and a mouth
fringed with tentacles around a singular fang. Between the burblings
and gurglings he heard "I love you. We are together forever."


Needless to say he ran screaming into the night. Things got worse when
he realized most of his hair fell out, he acquired a prognathous jaw
with two tusks sprouting up like an orc. Despite the evident
emaciation of his body, Monty Prince discovered he had preternatural
strength and other talents which he used to hide himself from his
amorous sire. In his adventures he learned how to use a sword, used
obfuscate to peep on his female team members and gained many prices on
his head from the Sabbat. The story gets muddy when there are rumors
he made his way to St. Louis and joined the Sabbat to become an
adversary for another group of vampires. I have no part in this and it
was up to one of the New Jersey storytellers who co-opted my
character.


Tangentially to the four color world was another superheroic
character. A company involved with recombinant DNA was uplifting
animals to human-like intelligence. One of those was a rhinoceros
named Mercury. Being particularly dim he fell into a life of crime and
embraced the philosophy of "might makes right". After doing a stint in
Stronghold he had a change of heart and decided to come clean "for the
kids". Still clumsy, still sharp as a bag of rocks but outlandishly
strong and resilient he had a few adventures.


Yet another hero was Shadowturtle. Boris Black, county coroner, found
an ancient artifact which bonde with his body. At will he could assume
the form of a completely black turtle who could move at the speed of
darkness. He ended up killing a kid who was possessed by a demon and
was incarcerated by Special American Tactics. The rest of his team was
unaware of this thinking he was released on his own recognizances.
Instead the doppelganger, which I played, was a puppet of the same
demon who turned on them.


Many years later there was a gangrel out in Colorado who lived in the
tool chest of his pickup truck. With a Toreador and a Nosferatu they
tangled with the Sabbat and helped bring peace to a group of
werewolves along the front range. I've forgotten his name and the game
only lasted a handful of months.


Around this point I started creating my own worlds populated with many
more characters. Reckon most of the time I'll have an idea like
"Nobody ever wonders what the other half of a half-orc is so why NOT
an elf?" From such concepts a character is born like Felix Mousepad
who was created to roleplay rather than roll-play. Circumstances led
to gaming with powergaming munchkins much to my own chagrin but my
love for Lisa, Irv, Luiz and Alden kept me there in hopes I'd be able
to shine with a character rather than wow people with my completely
broken at-will power that's a daily for a non-prestige class. I wanted
to play a personality not a set of powers meant to fulfill some
adolescent fantasy which pastiches the best of Robert E. Howard. Not
very developed but I play him as forceful, thoughtful and charismatic
which does not represent the reality of my own self.


Folks who know me will read into this, see my pain, my scars, my hopes
and triumphs within these characters but when I created them at no
time did I ever think of them as a form of catharsis. Just a character
I thought would be cool to play without being a mary sue.

Dawna, psychologically

Dawna came about later.  I initially developed her for a roleplaying scenario in World of Warcraft.  I was looking for an orphan raised in an abbey, that went on to become a paladin, and be very regimented and "regular army" about it.  During that time in my life, I was all about "settling down"  The turmoil from the house burning and rebuilding was over, we had just moved into this house, and Irv and I had settled into a great routine.  Family life was swell, and I'd just gotten serious about spending lots of time online with Luiz.  For a long time, (the first Arachne days) I was spending time with lots of different people, being all "guild leader" and outgoing.  During the Arachne days, WoW was a necessary social outlet.  With Dawna, when I rolled her, things were shifting.

I created her on an as yet unplayed server. She was to be my "vacation char", to get away from people, and the high school like setting of an MMO.  Turned out, Luiz insisted on playing on my vacation server with me, and it became something permanent.  The two of us on our new paladins spent hours in game together, bonding. We roleplayed as a married military couple, regular army.  Leo was Luiz's not-hero.  Leo was a Good Guy, and tried hard to serve and protect. Dawna was much the same.  She wasn't some swasbuckling wildwoman, she was pure and good, and just tried to do the right thing.  Dawna represents a more settled side of me, I think.  She reflects the serenity of my life, then and still now.  It's satisfying to play someone who is just good.  Good, a bit stubborn, and not here to make friends, or impress.  She's pure, or even a little prude.  Champion for women everywhere, as well as the weak, and those unable to defend themselves, a true paladin, and truly chivalrous in the best sense of the word.  In her current D&D incarnation, she's practically virginal, and leans towards relationships with other women.  She's not a mother, but she's extremely nurturing and maternal.  I took Damona's penchant for diplomacy and amplified it tenfold.  She's a shining beacon of feminine grace and unwavering strength, although stiff and often uncompromising.  If "hooker with a heart of gold" was my Damona trope, then military woman is Dawna's.  

She's become iconic, because every knight, holy warrior, proud barbarian, every red  haired, green eyed strong axe wielding character I play in games is Dawna, in some incarnation.  Dawna is even a Jedi.  Fem Shep in Mass Effect was Dawna.  

When I think about it on these terms, it feels like Damona is my lunar wild, nightime character.  Amoral and impulsive.  Dawna is my solar, warm daytime character. Steady, intense, and a little harsh. 

When Luiz was talking about "iconic characters" I had to mention that none of my characters were ever made to be iconic.  They all started very small in level and idea.  Dawna was created as a part of a storyline. Damona was created spontaneously.  I don't think you can deliberately make an icon. They just have to sort of sprout up.

Damona, psychologically

Luiz asked me about the origins of my more notable and "iconic" characters.  He specifically asked about Damona, then Dawna.

Damona became iconic through Damien's excellent game, through long, epic stories.  She developed as a character because of her surroundings.

She was conceived of, like any basic D&D char.  "I'll be running a game, what kind of character do you feel like playing?".  The answer, in her case, was "um...how about a rogue?"  Her concept was simple enough. I had a girl crush on Jordana Brewster, at the time, and wanted to play a standard "hooker with a heart of gold" trope, that looked like Jordana Brewster in leather.  I never play "just" a rogue, or "just" anything, so in the short days between the conception and actually playing, I came up with a gimmick that she was a tinker.  Some thieves steal for greed, but she did it out of boredom and because of her mile wide rebellious streak.  She was a bored kid in a small town, from a good solid family, and she hated it.   She amused herself by taking apart locks, and breaking into houses, stealing for amusement rather than necessity.  The first day we played, she broke into the town chapel, and unloaded the collection box into her pockets.

I played her brash, snotty, and as a total slut, at first. With time, and the gravity of her mission, she developed grace and diplomacy.  That time in my life, my early 20s, was filled with tension.  Alden was a toddler, we were broke. I was going back to school.  The house burned down.  In real life, I walked a tightrope, with no time or energy to work on my "self" or my own personality.  With Damona, I hearkened back to my late teens, my brash, snotty, and slutty days.  It was like slipping into a comfortable old jacket, one that didn't quite fit in the real world anymore, but was fine as anything for our Monday night adventures.  Looking back, playing Damona was just like playing a caricature of myself from 5-7 years before, but seasoned with my personal maturity and a buncha cool extras.

What she turned into later, immortal, gold skinned magical conduit, sister to the Messiah, all that...that came after. The seed of Damona is what I'm talking about here.

She became iconic, not only because of  her eventual character development, but because in most computer games, after, whenever I played a rogue, or rogue type, I was playing early "Damona".  Black hair, green eyes, dual wielding, ass kicking, lock picking, and all that.  Most notably, Arachne, my first main in World Of Warcraft was a rendition of her.  Wild, untamed, amoral.  It's what I needed, in escape, as a counterpoint to the high stress, bolted down life I was leading, in reality.

Psychological Character Origins.

I'm taking a break from working on my story to write a little bit about my character's origins. The moment their seeds first took root in my conscious mind. I guess I was reflecting on teenage memories in my drive to IFF this morning. Maybe it's why I enjoy driving Lisa to work in the morning, its a magical time I've often ignored in favor of sleep.

So where did Lucius come from?

I think he came from the same place as classic super heroes like superman - from the imagination of a teenager aspiring to be something more than his awkward, uncertain self. I mentioned this to Lisa and she said it has nothing to do with age, and she's right. She created Damona in her 20's as a reflection of her teenage alter ego, whose life she kind of lived rather than fantasized about. My own process was a projection of a character whom, later in life, I unconsciously grew into. Not that I am that character, but he was the benchmark of an ideal along the way. And that's what this is about. We create characters to fulfill our psychological need to grow beyond our conscious limits. Take my dear friend Chris for example. He is very shy and admits to being socially awkward once in a while. In my game he created the character of Felix, who possesses all the social grace and assertive will he lacks in everyday life. When he becomes Felix, he leaves Chris and his world behind and takes a heroic aura. Perhaps it's why he is such a great role player. He enjoys the power of being someone stronger than his ordinary persona. When his wife calls him while he is gaming, he get's frustrated because she's unwittingly calling back to his ordinary life. I wish he could consciously bring the strength of Felix with him everywhere, especially at work. But that's another matter.

My first vision of this character was as clear as any other vision today. In hindsight, I may have been influenced by Disney's Fantasia, a childhood favorite. Unlike Mickey Mouse, however, the wizard I saw didn't lose control of his powers. In the fall of 1998, in my eleventh grade English class, I saw a powerful wizard on a stormy mountaintop commanding the elements. Lucius had no fear or faith in anything outside of himself. Instead he had a strong will, wisdom and confidence. He was a wizard, in the way I saw the quintessential artist as a wizard. I was heavily influenced by Leonardo's writing at the time, particularly the artist's endeavor to master himself and the world around him, to understand all things, to become the Universal Man. I saw the ancient artist as a real-life Merlin, a basis for Lucius' “Merlinnesque” master in the Wizard's Wrath. Concepts like “Man as a measure of all things” became a foundation for mastering chaotic forces which threatened to break the world of lesser men. Not to mention the implication of reality and consciousness as subjective experiences.

Most importantly, his confidence was what I needed the most in that time of my life as an awkward teenager from a foreign country. His devotion to magic became my devotion to art. He grew as an idealized alter-ego sometimes close, sometimes far in many crossroads in my life. Before his conception in 98, I used the name Lucius in the first iteration of Claudio's game the year before. I had cast him as a knight fighting for the typical justice freedom and you-know-what. That same character became the first Lucius Maximus in World of Warcraft - the alter ego through which Lisa first met me. His first appearance in Wizard's Wrath 1 was a puzzle to me. I really wasn't sure if I wanted to play as a paladin or a mage. Now I see the meaning behind the divide. Lucius the mage was my individual will going against conventions of my Christian upbringing, while the paladin was a champion of pious spiritual aspirations.

I haven't been playing any kind of paladin-like character for a while, so Lisa asked me if it's because I resent that period of my life as a Christian. I had to think about that for a little while. My immediate answer was this: “The wizard gave me a wider perspective of the world, I still love paladins and their devotion, but would rather command them, than to be them.” In truth, as I see Lucius' character growing as I write the story, I see him as an evolving assimilation of separate aspects of my self. My understanding of the world grows into a more wholesome view of magic and spirituality, it's only fair that my characters should grow as well.

The important point to take from all this is that our characters shouldn’t just be idle make believe, or escapist flights from the real world. They should inspire us to grow as well rounded individuals, not caricatures of ourselves. I'm asking Lisa to write her own point of view on this character creation process, I can't wait to read hers.

Future character, not named yet.

Character concept for Chris's Savage Worlds space game in one sentence:

Twisted mad scientist necro doctor.

Role:  Ship's "doctor" On a less than legal or some kind of shady top secret ship.

His appearance is something like current Marilyn Manson, sans makeup.  Thin, but with a bloated flaccid appearance, a round distended belly, spindly legs, weak chin.  Wispy thin black hair, often unwashed, clinging to his scalp, barely.  Not long, not short, just no-style, around collar length.  He often wears <depending on what's available in the setting> white shirts, dress style shirts, but always missing buttons, and stained.  Old stains, new stains, disturbing stains... Black pin striped dress pants, but faded, scorched, and just this side of tattered.  When he's in his office, he often wears a black rubber apron with less-than-sterile medical tools stashed in the pocket and elbow length chemical gloves.

He accepts a position on a ship, because the shipmates don't question him about his "hobbies" and he deigns to patch up his shipmates in time of need. He has an extensive knowledge of anatomy, and can effectively (if a little er, un-traditionally) heal them.  In his off time, he's forever splicing, cutting things open to "learn" about their interiors (dead or alive).  He's very good at the human body, but...he has his own methods of learning.

My inspiration for this character comes from many places, sort of many archetypes drawn together in one character.  First Qyburn from GRRM's A Song of Ice and Fire series.  He's kinda purely medical and necromantic, but I want this to be a little more weird science, so think of all the creepy doctors, and dentists, think of every medical phobia you may have surrounding the medical community, think of Victorian medicine, of independent study, stealing corpses, doing weird gene spicing with whatever animal this guy can catch and torture.  In space.

Still unnamed.

C:TL

The game went well, Saturday night. It was genuinely fun, we were rushed right into combat after following a rainbow because Tasha ate a magical skittle.  Chris kept everyone engaged, moving along, prompting the people that needed prompting, yeah, I enjoyed it a lot.

Alden's char was birthed from the sky, pretty much, and was met with mistrust, initially.  The story took weaving twists and turns, and Chris had a lot of witty things going on.  Loved it.  I wish every game we played was like this.  I think the chemistry was really there, and it came out because Chris tried hard to engage everyone.

I can appreciate a sandbox setting, I love it, but there's times it doesn't work. When you have a few people at the table who aren't used to interactive co-operative entertainment, those people wind up sitting in the center of the sandbox waiting for something to happen, and texting in the meantime.  That didn't happen this time, everything was well paced, and now I'm hyped up for our next session, on Nov 5.

Even more hyped up for the space game.

A List

A list of mostly fiction available to Luiz, for reading.  A (what I hope is) eclectic mix of authors and styles, mostly from the 20th century. This is to help him broaden his writer's vocabulary.  This is not a "best of", this is not some comprehensive master list, it's based on his personal tastes, mine, and what's on hand. My only authority here is that these are books I've already read, many of them, repeatedly.  They stand out, for many reasons, some I've explained below.  They're not my favorites.  But, they have all shaped my appreciation for the art of the written word.   This is simply a cross section of my own collection. Terse, wordy, floral, sparse.  Hardcore sex,  blood and guts, fairy tales and happy endings.  What if, what did, what will never happen. Shouting and whispering. Cheesy, rich, and velvety or a brisk, bitter slap in the face.

Ernest Hemingway

The Old Man and the Sea- Short, perfectly composed. One of the greats. One of his razor-sharp finest examples. See also his short stories.

John Steinbeck

Cannery Row-THE textbook on perfect descriptive writing.

East of Eden- his magnum opus. “symbolic recreation of the biblical story of Cain and Abel woven into a history of California's Salinas Valley.” Huge in scope, and in message. It's rambling melodrama, but in a good way.

Eli Weisel

Night- Short, intense, emotional read from the perspective of a Holocaust survivor. Emotions captured in words.

Upton Sinclair

The Jungle- published in 1906. An American contemporary at the time of Crowley. Grisly, controversial, thoroughly bitter look at the “American Dream” through the eyes of an immigrant, in Chicago's meatpacking district. The writing is complex, but it's very visceral and cringeworthy. Lots of moral choices and struggling. Dark.

Stephen King

Insomnia- Difficult journey into dream-subconscious. Dream Logic.

The Talisman/The Black House- Two books that tie into the Dark Tower series. Alternate universe, horror/fantasy.

Nightmares and Dreamscapes, Skeleton Crew, Night Shift and 4 Past Midnight- Well crafted short stories, 4 past is more novellas, but still worthy reading.

Douglas Adams

Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy- See where Pratchett is coming from. Drily funny British sci-fi. A real classic, for a reason. Grazes over deep subjects with a light step, and with humor.

Terry Pratchett

Any Discworld novel- Fantasy, excellent story and worldcrafting, hilarity. Light reading, witty, clever.

Good Omens

Neil Gaiman

Smoke and Mirrors, and Fragile Things- Short Stories. He's as random and eclectic in his style as anyone I know. Think of the difference between Odin and Anansi. The feel of them both. He captures it in his short stories. Dark fantasy.

Ed Greenwood

Elminster the Making of a Mage- Ed created Forgotten Realms. This is one of his early books. The story is good, flawed, and it's a little deeper than many D&amp;D style fantasy. See the creation of one of the canonical legendary D&amp;D characters, from the ground up. Well written? Not as good as others on the list, but for what it is, yes. Lots of magic and intrigue.

R.A. Salvatore

Homeland- Again, see the creation of a legend. Good fantasy writing, without being cheesy. Young life of Drizzt. Both Ed and R.A. Are pertinent to what you're doing with Wizard's Wrath. To write fantasy, read fantasy. This is where “drow” or dark elves were invented, as a race. He fleshes out a whole world. Crisply black and white, good vs. evil. A little predictable.

Neal Stephenson

Snowcrash- Wordy in a good way, cyberpunk, urban sci fi. Really great characters, interesting story blending Sumerian myth, biological virus and data virus. Completely unique story. WAY ahead of its time, technology wise.

Anne Rice

The Vampire Lestat

Memnoch the Devil

Tale of the Body Thief

The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty

Bram Stoker

Dracula- See gothic horror at it's finest. Started what Anne built upon. A more masculine version of what Chris describes as “purple prose”. Right there with your dreamy prose feel.

Thomas Harris

The Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal, The Red Dragon- Visceral, suspenseful, psychological horror. Gritty, realistic, scary, doesn't spare the readers. Exemplary in that kind of writing. Chronologically, it goes Red Dragon, Lambs, then Hannibal.

James Patterson

Along Came a Spider- the first of the famous Alex Cross novels. Maybe not the best, but a great snapshot into this style of mystery thriller, gritty, realistic, crime and suspense. Very terse, stripped down writing style. Short paragraphs, short sentences. The complete opposite of Anne Rice.

Diana Gabaldon

Outlander- Epic, sweeping, lush rich historical fiction. Time travel from WW2 England to 17^th century Scotland. A little scholarly in writing, prim, stiff, yet romantic and with lots of sex. British.

Lian Hern

Grass For His Pillow- Also epic and lush, historical fiction. Set in feudal Japan. Nice writing style, definitely a good voice. Example of an American writer sounding Japanese. Ninjas.

Marion Zimmer Bradley

Mists of Avalon

Jim Butcher

Dresden Files

George RR Martin

Fevre Dream, Dreamsongs, ASOIAF series.

Bennet's Babe

Bennet and his small troop of men were returning home from a long tour, fighting skirmishes all along the borders of a contested area.  They had been out for over a year, and were returning home to their families.  Following this particular path were a small group of men, living in Port Everlast, near Bennet.

As they approached a small shire they'd passed through before, they noticed something different.  The smoke wasn't curling cheerily from the chimneys of the stout little lodges, but rising from the roofs and fields.  The town center wasn't filled with knee high children, playing tag and weary mothers chatting at the well.  The town center appeared to be filled with rubble, at a distance.  

Instantly the men were alarmed.  They continued to the nameless town, to make camp, but they drew their weapons and moved with extra caution.  As they closed in, what they saw as a heap of rubble, was in fact signs of a dramatically one sided battle.  Halfling bodies strewn everywhere, men, women and children, adolescents cut down in their prime.  Bennet, a grizzled veteran, one accustomed to the hardships of battle, was completely overcome.  He dropped to one knee, and made some sound borne of grief mingled with shock.  Bodies...stomped, beaten, some impaled on spikes.  Clearly, this was the site of some terrible raid.  After the initial shock, the men quickly broke into teams and searched every abode for survivors.  They did a cursory search, coming up with abandoned homes, burned places, and bodies, even killed in their beds.  Whoever did this attacked with savage efficiency, this was not the work of a mere raiding party, but of born killers.  

Throughout the day, the men piled bodies in the center, on a makeshift pyre, sending blessings, and burning the dead.  As the day shifted to evening, they entered the place they were dreading to enter the most, the Inn.  Kithri's Rose, this charming little building was once called.  They feared the worst, avoiding the place, all day, knowing that the inn is where people tend to flee to, for protection in a small place like this.  They could see the door was bashed in, and just make out shapes in the gloom inside.  Upon entering the building, they were shocked to find no bodies at all, signs of a struggle, for sure, but no actual bodies.  In the last room Bennet entered, where he thought he'd probably crash and sleep for the night, as he was sliding into the tiny bed, he noticed a heap on the floor.  In the now almost darkness, he lit a candle, and found one small body.  It was a very young halfling woman, or older girl.  She had a long knife through her lower back.  Bennet, resigned with grief and exhaustion, slid her body gently onto his cloak, making ready to bring her to the pyre, when a small bundle of blankets spilled out of her hands.  In the bundle, there was a sniffle and a movement.  As if outraged from being disturbed, the bundle began wailing in outrage.  There was a baby, and by some miracle, the baby was quite alive!  Pulling the corner of the blanket aside, Bennet stared into the most piercing and alert sapphire blue eyes he'd ever seen.  Those eyes peered from under a shock of spiky cherry red hair, and Bennet knew immediately that he would kill to protect this child.  He fell asleep with her curled tenderly in the cook of his arm, and in doing so, he fell in love for life.  Kithri would ever be known as Bennet's babe.  

Random Loot Tables

Gold distribution:

3g per minion +1 for every level over the player's highest level.

Example: We killed three minions, we're level 2 and they were level 4. Each minion was worth 5 gold. Our party of five now has 15 gold to divide.

5g per basic monster +2 for every level over the player's highest level.

We killed three monsters, we're level 2 and they were level 4. Each monster was worth 6 gold. Our party of five now has 27 gold to divide.

10g per boss monster +3 for every level over the player's highest level AND a dice roll from the loot table, to see how many magical items. For a monster within 5 levels of the party, roll 1d4 to see how many items drop. For a monster MORE than 5 levels over the party, roll 2d4. These items are magical, depending on the characters level (lower level magic items for lower level characters)

THEN, once the number is decided, roll that number of d10 to establish what all was found, using the tables below.

1- magical potion

2- magical ammo (arrow, bolt, sling stones)

3- sharp weapon (dagger, short sword, long sword, great sword)

4- cloth armor

5- jewelery

6- leather armor

7-ranged weapon (sling, bow, crossbow, throwing weapon)

8-chain mail

9-blunt weapon (club, staff, mace, axe)

10- plate

Actual item to be determined by DM. Where items are held also determined by DM.

Example: Party kills Bluesnot the Vile, head kobold. The party is level 2 the boss is level 4. The party gets 16g to divide, and the DM rolls 1d4. The DM rolls a 4, so then the DM rolls 4d10 to see whatall they found. The DM rolls a 2, 7, 9, 6. So, that's some magical ammo, a ranged weapon, a blunt weapon, and some leather armor. The DM then consults the item guides to see what items to distribute (or, in a perfect world, the DM already has some idea about what said monster is holding...)

Seen in role playing: Brog the barbarian wrenches his axe from Bluesnot's soft belly, and Bluesnot crumples to a heap at Brog's feet. From off his head, you pull a softly glowing leather cap, which fit him poorly, but would fit Brog's enormous head just nicely. Also, as he falls, his club clatters to the ground, and any sign that it's been in battle disappears, and it looks somehow cleaner than it would be if it were brand new. Behind him you spy a well made, shining ebony shortbow, and a basket of brightly feathered arrows. Upon closely inspecting the bow, you see runes carved at strategic points, and the arrows seem to be already been used in battle, with fresh blood dripping from their tips, but it doesn't smear or run anywhere. When digging through his pockets, you find a heavy little pouch, containing 16 tarnished gold pieces.

Looting after a large fight

Example for our level two party of 5:

five level 2 minions

three level 3 monsters

one level 4 boss

Loot would look like this:

5x3 for the minions=15

3x5 +2x3 for the basic mobs = 21

10+6 for the boss=16

So, for the total fight=52

Divide by five party members=10.4

Roles

Kouri is a timid character, and I think I'm struggling with that, in a way.  Tasha, too, sort of skulks around, with lots of personality, but little decisive action, too.  I chose those two character styles, because I don't want to dominate the party.  Dawna is a strong female lead, Kithri would be too, if I played her.  Damona surely was.  I chose a childlike, more timid path with Kouri as a chance of pace.

I feel like, instead of role playing, at key moments, I flounder, and often fall silent.  I think I'm going to take Kouri in a more nurturing way. Yesterday, when Trigger was dying of poisoning, Kouri rushed to his side at her first chance, knelt, and poured healing into him, as a way of trying to keep him alive through the fight.  We wrapped up quickly after that, because Alden was kinda melting down, but I wanted to play that out, where Kouri pounded Trigger's back and administered a form of CPR, holding his head, while he vomited up the rest of the poisons.  I feel like she's going from "Young wide-eyed calf" to "battlefield nurse/group mom" fast, and I think I'd enjoy that role.  With level two, I gave her a feat for healing, and a daily for healing, and both are cementing her role in the group.    I just can't be some wallflower.

I'm conceptualizing a new character, too.  A surly shade bard named Satch, who goes around in long black robes, and gnomish goggles all day.  I never play classic "badboy" types, so it'll be a fun departure.  Creating him in 4th ed, but I might wind up playing him in Chris's future game, or as an NPC in my world, or something.  I really want the opportunity to play a char like this, for real, though, not as an NPC.  The concept has stuck in my mind like a fish hook.

I also kinda can't wait to play Kithri some.  She's a cunning bard, and an entirely different role playing/combat style.

It's a whole fucking hobby!

I just had an epiphany on gamers, and gaming.  We've been playing sometimes with non-gamers.  In fact, besides Chris, Luiz, and I, the C:TL game has been saddled with three non gamers.  Early on, I felt shy about talking about it at length with them in between sessions, or prattling on about things with the GM, but now I realize that this is fine and normal, for gamers.  I think that was one of the fundamental issues with that game, trying to turn non gamers, into gamers, and trying to move things around for them to entice them into it.  I really didn't get why things weren't taking off.  I understand now.

 I've been getting into the head of a lovely non gamer who's been trying to do it for the social aspect, and for her husband, who is our GM.  She said "I don't mind being there, at the table, I enjoy it.  When it comes to continuing a story, or remembering how I'm supposed to act from one time to the next, or when it comes to thinking about it in between, then I can't handle it. I lose interest."  There we have it, folks, the cry of a doting wife, trying to be a gamer.  It made everything super clear to me.   I feel pretty good, now I can relate to her reticence, I can understand now why our Seaside Point game drags.

Ian is running us through some pre-generated content.  It's great for getting to the table, and getting into action.  It's not at all story driven.  Very on the rails "Go to a town, find out a menace, go kill the menace, go back to town, plot twists...there's an even bigger menace using those little guys as catspaws".  Interacting with NPCs in town gives us some time to role play and develop our characters, but outside of that, it's basic dungeon crawling.  Which is GREAT.  What keeps it fresh is that in between times, we're constantly chatting about each other's characters, and making up stories about them, guessing about what comes next, conceptualizing, etc.  So, when we get to the table, we've already been playing it out in our head for a week or two, and we're rarin' to go.  Even if "go"  trotting (or charging, sneaking, stumbling, sauntering...) down some steps into the next room of the dungeon, kick down a door, kill a buncha monsters with panache, and loot them.

I explained it to Lee this way, "We're all actors in some great movie.  If we just showed up, read some lines, and went home to do other things for a month, till we were summoned in for our next lines...the movie would suck.  The best part of gaming happens behind the scenes, like movies.  There's tons of stuff happening around the actors, the director is planning, the scenery people are doing stuff, there's writing and editing happening.  Even actors research their roles, change their mannerisms.  Only THEN can actors walk into a full world and interact with it."  We're the cast and crew, the artists, the writers, the director, the actors.  We're building something.  We are not the audience.  Even playing from semi dry pre-printed material offers us a giant sand box to build castles, and sort out personalities.

So, with Seaside Point, half our crew is just showing up and sitting in the sand box waiting for a miracle.  Half of us are pondering, thinking preparing, storycrafting.  The rest, just kinda arrive expecting things to happen.  Which is ok, because they're not bit by the bug. They're not role players.  If we were to expect that of them, it would be forced, and unfair for them, they're not thinking on my level about that piece of paper in front of them.  Their sheet does not represent some amazing imaginary friend.  It's a reference sheet with a lot of confusing numbers and terms.  My mistake was this:  I chalked it up to being new.  It's totally not that at all.  Alden's new, but he's a gamer. He's forever talking about Dorn or Adrian, or now Nimbus (oh, holy god is he chewing my ear off about Nimbus...)  He sat  there browsing a website that sells precision dice last night for hours, exclaiming over the colors.  He's badgering me about painting his minis.  He's a gamer, no mistake, he just has to iron out his role playing skills.

Let's leave the non gamers to their movies, and their other non-interactive entertainment, and lets everyone be happy. Let me nerd it up, obsess about my character, and the minutia of storycrafting. Let me make tables of loot, tables of outcomes, percentage tables, and study the energy expenditure of razor edged dice as opposed to rounded edge dice.  Let me write my stories, and go on flights of fancy, because what I bring to the table is going to be excellent.  It'll be excellent because I've been thinking about it, in fact, last night, I probably went to sleep contemplating it.    I'm not going to pretend nonchalance, and try to water down the experience for people that aren't exactly interested in the hobby.  It's not acting.  It's not a casual social gathering.  The mistake is trying to make it out for less than it is.  RPG gaming, anything that requires core books, character sheets, and dice...that's a hobby, and an investment of time, and often money.  Many other games fall in to simpler "social event" categories like card games and board games.  This is role playing.  Showing up at a table and being led through every move by other players, is a farce.

That said, I am all for meeting once a month or so, for a casual gaming thing, that's not role playing.  I happen to love board games, card games, and all that, and I genuinely like hanging out with people.

Dawna Lionfang, Half-Elf Paladin

This will be the ongoing Dawna treatment.  Currently, this is not a background/past.  Here I'll be touching on the recent past, and the present, including mannerisms, style, and current events.  A few details from her past, including schooling and parentage will be present.

...............................................

Dawna is average height and curvy, muscular build, for a half elf.  She is voluptuous, with a rounded face, fuller cheeks, pointy chin and ears.   Her skin is fair and ivory, moving towards flushed and even ruddy when she's exerting herself.  Her eyes are a luminous bright summery leaf green.  Of all her features her large luminous almond shaped eyes and daintily pointed ears point at her mother's elven heritage.  Her hair wavy and a rich fiery auburn.  When she was on active duty, she kept it in a tidy short bob, just below her earlobes. During her mercenary days, she let it grow into soft, unkempt shoulder length waves.  During her time at the Inn, she has allowed it to grow long and thick, to the middle of her back, as befitting a lady, and keeps it pulled back in elaborate, elegant, and practical braids.  If she's spending an evening tending the inn, she'll braid precious stones, copper or gold chains, into her braid.

Her clothing is often feminine, well made, and practical.  She favors pale colors like off white, and dove grey, sometimes wearing dark greens, when she's getting dressed up.  She wears no jewelry, her only vanity is her elaborate braided hair, which she does adorn sometimes with chains and stones.  Her gowns are demure and plain.  She favors high cut necklines, often with square necks, or off the shoulder, with long skirts, slitted very high up her legs, on both sides. In cold weather, she layers soft wool gowns over a white linen chemise.  Many people think she just favors plain fashion, but the secret is that all her dresses and robes are tailored for practicality.  She's able to quickly buckle her breastplate on, and don the rest of her armor, without removing her dress, and without little details like ruffles, silly ribbons, and flaps getting in the way.  When she's not dressing for the inn, she wears men's riding clothes.  Soft, chocolate brown buckskin breechs, high boots, and a plain off white linen man's shirt, belted.  Mostly, she wears dresses, though.

She's never far from her double bladed axe.  It's a two handed weapon, with a short, stout handle.  The lower half of the handle is wrapped in grey leather.  Dawna keeps the blade razor sharp, and immaculate. She is particular about keeping the grey leather wrapping clean, supple, and in perfect condition.  She carries extra lengths of this soft, dyed leather, so she can re-wrap her axe, when it gets dingy.  She makes a point of doing this re-wrapping in a private place, away from prying eyes.  Under the wrapping, where her hands lay on the axe, there are elaborate runes carved.  She keeps them hidden from sight, and they are the key to many of her powers.  When going into battle, she connects with them, and chants their incantation, they come alive under her hands only.  When maintaining her beloved weapon, she rededicates herself to it, by tracing a bit of her own blood along some of these runes in the lower part of the handle, and whispering the ancient prayers.  This is essentially the only dogma she shows to some kind of perceived religion.  Her weapon is her religion, and she wields the ancient, symbolic, archaic thing with the same pride and reverence borne of centuries of axe wielding sheildmaidens.    

Mannerism:

Her demeanor at first seems regal and aloof.  She doesn't fall into conversation as easily as her more outgoing and bubbly half sister Kithri.  She is genuinely warm and pleasant, but has a hard time getting close to people.  In uncomfortable situations, she seems to rely on her militaristic bearing, so she becomes stiff backed and professional.  Rather, what she thinks is professional, most people find the behavior rude.  She lived a sheltered ascetic early life, and isn't exactly comfortable in large crowds, or with any kind of unnecessary attention.  When she's not patrolling the streets, working at the inn, or working side jobs, she leads a quiet comfortable life, either reading or practicing her maneuvers in her apartments, or sitting at her corner table, in the inn.  She does enjoy being around people, even though she isn't terribly outgoing.  Her training also causes her to be alert, leaning towards suspicious of people she doesn't know, especially in these trying times.  She's always wary of the criminal element.   She can take the measure of a person with a long look, and is often correct in her initial judgement.