Rating: 3-3-3
Word Count: None
Fandoms: All
Canons: Open/Oc's Welcome!
Bans: Howard the Duck,
RPF* Real Person Fiction; IE Apping an actual celebrity
Main Rule:Don't Be a Dick
OOC min age:18
Arjay Lo'Ran
Dungeons and Dragons-Forgotten Realms
Posts
Threads
Age:231
Job: Bard
Ship Status: Single
Sexual Orientation:Straight
Straight
Mike
Biography
Arjay Lo’Ran
basics
full name: Arjay Lo’Ran
nicknames/aliases/code name: Requiem, Damian Asher
canon or oc: OC
anchor character: Yes
species: Moon Elf
gender: Male
age: 231
date of birth: 9 Elient, 1143 DR (The Year of the Talisman)
place of birth: Evermeet
starting location: Hub (probably has been there for a month or so)
originating fandom: Dungeons and Dragons
fandom universe: Forgotten Realms
pronouns: He/Him
occupation: Bard, Spy, Soldier (former), Lawman (former)
languages: Engish (Common), Elven, Celestial, Dwarvish
powers: Arjay is skilled in bardic magic. Through his voice (or music) he is able to grant magical luck upon his companions, offering protection from mind-affecting abilities and just general additions to their fighting and skill attempts, or make it less likely that an enemy will succeed in anything they attempt.
He is an able spellcaster, specializing in spells of deception, storm/weather manipulation, healing and travel. Full spell list will follow.
strengths: Arjay is a jack of all trades. He’s been a bit of a scholar, a bit of a soldier, a bit of a sorcerer, a bit of a performer, all at various times. There are very few subjects that he cannot at least be considered passingly familiar with. While his areas of expertise are largely diplomatic and espionage, he can be useful in most situations in a pinch.
He’s an experienced swordfighter, though he uses magic for physical combat more often than not. His military experience has given him great experience in command and at enabling other commanders.
He is very skilled at disguise, and is able to mimic sounds that he has heard previously.
His memory is particularly keen, and he is able to recall anything he’s heard in the past month with perfect clarity. Wherever he is, he is able to tell where due north is, assuming that such a direction exists in the world he exists in.
He is able to read lips so long as he knows the language being spoken and has a clear view of the person’s lips.
weaknesses: Arjay has a weak constitution, owing to a torture experiment he underwent that was improperly healed. Strenuous activity causes strain upon him, and can lead to him being physically incapacitated by his condition for a time. Such activities include: Running long distances (hiking at a reasonable pace is fine), extended, strenuous swordplay (minions can be dispatched easily enough and present no strain, “boss fights” present the trouble). Injuries taken can bring him down much more easily than other people.
As a practitioner of bardic magic, he has a set amount of magic he can cast before needing to rest for the day. He is not able to learn new spells, except possibly on rare occasions and at the expense of another spell.
equipment: Musical instruments: Arjay generally has both a flute and a lute on his person. He will never be caught without both.
Starwind - Holy, semi-sentient longsword. Functions as a luck blade, able to make one event that goes badly for him turn in his favor per day. Once a year, it may grant him a wish, provided that it is not opposed by his goddess, Hanali Celanil. Deals holy (radiant) damage when used, and cuts more deeply than one would expect of a sword of its making. Can communicate its pleasure/displeasure with the wielder with the situation it finds itself in, and requires being pampered in various ways to continue to function.
Immovable Rod: Flat iron rod with a button at one end. Pressing the button causes the rod to remain precisely where it is, even defying gravity. The rod can support up to 8,000 lbs before it deactivates itself.
Wand of Secrets: 3 charges per day. Expending one charge causes it to point at the nearest trap or concealed door, if any exist.
history
On the Elven home isle of Evermeet, the Lo’Ran family was a minor, though sizable, noble house. They traced their heritage back to the days of lost Myth Drannor, where they had drawn both praise and criticism (as well as many duels) for their unwavering adherence to the ideals laid down in that great city, where for the first time, elves had stood side by side with the shorter-lived races. Arjay was the third son of that proud, but humble house, and carried on in the tradition of his father and brother before him in training as a bladesinger, mixing magic, song and swordplay in the most ancient and revered of elven fighting styles.
Apprenticed to his older brother, Kaer, Arjay showed great promise at his calling when he’d come of age, and was preparing to be offered into the service of the guards as a Bladesinger in his own right when Evermeet, through treachery from within, was attacked, powerful foes making their way through the magic that had held the island protected for centuries. In a battle for their homeland, even untried soldiers such as Arjay were drawn to the front lines, holding back the push of evil wizards and twisted dark elves from taking the island and its secrets.
While the day was ultimately won, the elves paid dearly for their safety, a safety that they could scarcely feel after such destruction was rained upon a land that they had thought untouchable. The Lo’Ran family was dealt a double blow, as the head of their house, Arjay’s father, and his oldest son, Kaer, were killed in the battle. Arjay couldn’t help sink into a despair after seeing his brother ripped apart by fel magics before his very eyes, a death he was helpless to prevent, and that he couldn’t convince himself wasn’t a sacrifice to protect him. With his uncle taking over as head of the family, Arjay’s immediate family departed, his mother and older brother returning to the mainland to his mother’s wood-elf tribe, his younger brother and sister turning their studies to Evereska, unable to face the memories that Evermeet brought up in them at every turn.
Arjay, himself, heeded the call to return to reclaim lost Myth Drannor, and offered his services there to the newly established Coronal. Over the next few years, he fought the dark elves and the occupying forces of the Zhentarim in the Dalelands, finding fame, renown, and even love. None of it was to last, though, as the new wife he took was murdered by someone he had thought he could trust, and he was left to live in the ignominy of his disgrace, as all of his judgements were called into question by his superiors. Resigning his rank, he looked for a way to serve in his own way, looking for some means of redemption, if only in the eyes of his gods.
Redemption found him in the hand of his goddess, Hanali Celanil, goddess of love and beauty. One late night after fasting, meditation, and general mental anguish, Arjay felt the call to take up his lute instead of his spellbook, renouncing wizardry in favor of the magic of song, following his heart rather than his mind. In the morning, when he woke from what he thought might have been a fevered vision, he found a sword, beautifully crafted and radiating holy power, where his spellbook had been.
With his focus now on his role as a performer, Arjay began utilizing his skills at deception to gather intelligence to help oust the tyranical forces that had securely occupied Shadowdale. Now sponsored by the Harpers, those well-known, though secretive, meddlers who did their best to shape the path of Faerun, he joined with several fast friends, adopting new identities and opening an inn near Shadowdale, posing as entertainers with no interest in local politics. Facing scorn from his own people in Myth Drannor, Arjay persisted under the facade of Damian Asher, Thespian Extraordinaire, courting the business of the Zhentarim while quietly hating himself for doing so, until one day, a commission landed at his feet that was everything they’d hoped for in their months undercover: A request for entertainers for a celebration at the Zhentarim’s base in the mountains, a celebration which told them that the guard around the city would be, for a short, unannounced period, dangerously weakened. A desperate plan was hatched, rallying all of the forces in the Dales that they could muster under the leadership of a well-respected paladin, while his dear friends, the performers that were hired, staged an accident that kept the forces divided and unable to answer any calls for assistance from Shadowdale as the rebel forces ruthlessly cut down the remaining occupying forces.
With their mission accomplished, Arjay thought that he might finally find some peace, but tragedy after tragedy struck, removing friend after friend, love after love, from his life, until finally, in one drunken, miserable night, he spoke aloud his wish to be anywhere aside from this place he found himself, surrounded by the ghosts of his friends and loves. The sword at his hip practically sang in his mind, and he found himself led up the river from the theater to a cave, where upon entering, he found himself in the Hub, that strange world between the worlds where, Goddess willing, he would finally find the place where he belonged.
Hub Information
landmarks in hub for established universe: A generic tavern would be fine.
knowledge level of multiverse: Limited - He knows that other planes of existence are real, but is unaware of the scope of the multiverses. The hub is something completely new to his world, as far as he knows.
fandom specific information: Arjay has been an agent of Myth Drannor, Shadowdale, and is presently a Harper when he is in his home world.
Anchor Character Section
which fandom: Dungeons and Dragons
which universe: Forgotten Realms
timeline: 3.5E timeline, specifically 1374-5.
where is the Hub portal located: A cave a day’s hike downriver (east) of Shadowdale. It is covertly watched, though travel is not actively interfered with.
If not already established in canon do the following exist?
magic: Yes. Magic is strong in this world, though visiting sorcerors may notice that they have limitations put on them as to how much magic they can cast each day that did not exist in other worlds.
aliens: There are many, many races on Toril, and new creatures generally enter magically from other planes of existence. Creatures from other planets tend to be more members of the common races on the planet (humans, dwarves, halflings, elves, orcs, etc)
advanced technology: Toril is a very low-tech world. Nothing more complicated than steam-powered technology will function, and that may even function unreliably.
mythical creatures: Yes
other: Super powers are not heard of. Some visiting superheroes may find that their powers function abnormally, some may be translated to fit the character types of the world.
what landmark(s) to start with in Hub? A bustling tavern/inn. Call it the Old Oak Inn.
RP Sample
It had been a long night. The theater’s proprietor, Damian Asher, was always in demand, be it in the office or in the tavern, but tonight, he’d simply had his fill. His smile never faltered, that self-amused, superior attitude never cracked, but inside, he felt like his skin was ready to crawl off. Around him were people who had, at one time or other, decided to kill him under his real name, some had even tried, but here he was, drinking with them, and with others who simply couldn’t bring themselves to care enough to oppose them. Tonight, he knew, he’d be going on a trip, because he simply couldn’t manage this any longer.
"Now, now, darlings, business calls. The show must go on, and it’s not going to go on if I don’t see that our bills are paid, now, will it?" he said, grinning impishly at the patrons. "Kevros? Do give my friends one last round, put it on my tab, I’ll be [i]sure[/i] to pay myself for it," he told the bartender, eliciting appreciative chuckles from those around him. He gave an artful bow as he made his way back out through the theater, heading backstage to take the stairs down to the private quarters where he and the other permanent staff of the theater lived, locking the door quickly behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut as he walked through the common area, then kicked open the door of his room, screaming in frustration as he stormed through it. He wasn’t worried about being overheard, he knew that the silencing spells that protected their quarters were good, he’d helped cast them himself. No, for this one moment, he could be himself, and he, himself, was at wits end.
Soft footsteps padded down the hall, stopping outside his door. “Damian?”
"Damian’s gone, Cadence," he said without turning around to see the delicate elf peering through his doorway. The footsteps padded closer, and he felt a hand rest on his shoulder, pulling him back from the wall, back out of himself. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, his arm crossing his chest to rest a hand on hers.
“What happened, Arjay?”
He shook his head, then stepped further into the room, leading her through his bedchamber, into the room where the spring water, magically warmed, bubbled into a bath deep and wide enough to swim in. He stripped out of Damian’s clothes, slowly slipping down into the water. He could remove his disguise with magic, a simple spell that would take no more than a moment, but he just felt the need to bathe, to get the stink of the Zhentarim patrons upstairs off of him. He didn’t feel self conscious as he did so, elves didn’t have such a need for modesty, something that had taken Cadence’s human lover a bit of adjusting to get used to, but in the end, elves would be elves, they’d quite truthfully convinced him.
She handed him the salve that would scrub the dye from his skin and hair, and he didn’t speak until his dusky skin was once more pale pink with a slight blue tinge to it, and the scarlet hair was pure white once more. Then, and only then, did he lie back in the water, his head resting against the edge, and speak to her. "I need to go to Myth Drannor today," he said, his voice resigned, weary. She nodded as she slid closer to the edge, pulling her skirts up so that she could dip her feet into the water, letting his head rest against her knee. "I don’t know how I’m going to bear it. They think that this inn is the work of traitors, that anyone doing business here, with the Zhents, deserve to be slain with them. We’ve heard that, time and again. I can’t feel at peace there anymore, and here? Here, we’re surrounded by the vilest specimens of humanity that we could ever hope to come across. If this occupation isn’t over soon… what will we have left?"
He craned his neck backward, for the first time looking up at the eyes of his partner as she looked down at him. “We’ll have each other,” she said, smoothing her fingers across his cheek. “That’s what we said at the outset, and we’re not going to break that promise now.”
He smiled, taking a deep breath, and for a moment, they simply sat in silence, until he reached up, taking the hand on his cheek into his and moving it to his lips, kissing it gently. "I need your help," he said quietly. "It’s time for me to get out of the rest of my disguise." He peered up at her and saw the sick look on her face, which [i]may[/i] have been slightly more pale than usual.
“I can’t wait until you decide this isn’t necessary anymore,” she murmured, standing up and crossing into his bedroom, and he couldn’t blame her. Months ago, ever since he’d learned that the taint of the Drow priestess’s magic was no longer preventing holy magic from healing him, he had realized just what the perfect disguise was for an elf who’d been known to have lost his eye to the whims of the priestesses of Lolth was: An unmarked elf with perfect depth perception. Unfortunately, he didn’t think that wearing his eyepatch over his regrown eye would be convincing, particularly if he was captured and found to really have two eyes… and so, every time he took off the disguise of Damian Asher to resume his life as Arjay Lo’Ran, he gave up the eye that he had regrown for the purpose as well.
Cadence handed him the knife, and Arjay sat in the water for a moment, taking a deep breath, steeling himself. Then, letting out a defiant growl, a growl which became a cry, which in turn became a scream, he plunged the tip of the dagger into his eye, plucking it out. Pain flared like a white hot sun in his skull, and he swooned, falling backward, only for Cadence to catch him before his head could slam into the stone floor. Hushing him quietly, she began to weave her magic around him, sealing the wound, cutting off the flow of blood, before carefully cleaning out the now-empty socket, preparing it to be covered by his eyepatch again. “I wish I knew why you put yourself through this every time,” she murmured, spreading an ointment over the gaping hole in his skull.
"For duty," he managed, his throat raw, his voice rough. "For you, for our friends, for our people." He forced a smile, looking up at her again through his one remaining eye. "Don’t worry," he told her as he relaxed, bonelessly, into the water again, his lighthearted tone sounding a bit manic even to his ears. "I’ve had much, much worse than that."
Arjay is currently searching for his purpose. His life has left him free of any real, binding ties, and he’s hoping that here, in this place between worlds, he can find a place that he truly belongs, whether or not he can bring that purpose back with him to his own world. He is, for the time being, intrigued by all of the new things to see, all of the strange devices from other worlds he now has access to, doing his best to make sense of all of it.
He is used to mixing with all sorts, and is willing to be friendly (even if not actually friends) with those who operate in the darker shades of grey. That said, he knows true evil when he sees it, and will throw his opposition into it when he spots it. This may come in the form of playing a long con against the evil mastermind, it may come as spying upon them and feeding information to their closest rival, or it may come in the form of raining magical destruction upon them.
The line between Arjay’s friends and enemies can often have the same appearance to outside eyes. Ever the diplomat and spy, he’s just as likely to sit down and have a drink with the villain as he is to draw his sword. There’s always an ulterior motive involved in this, but the best sort of war, in his opinion, is a cold war. If you can make them back down for fear of what you’ll do, that will probably end up better for everyone, in most cases at least.
shipper
As a worshiper of the Goddess of Love and Beauty, Arjay’s affections are generally made quite obvious and honest, even if there is a mutual agreement that nothing will come of these feelings. To him, there isn’t any shame in any feelings between people, nor in how they choose to express those feelings as consenting adults, so long as no one is hurt in the process.
That said, he is slow to allow himself to feel deeply for anyone at this point. He has, to this point, lost everyone he has loved, generally in painful ways, and he isn’t eager to suffer that pain again. In addition, he already knows that the humans he meets will die of old age while he will appear untouched by time. He isn’t opposed to getting close, in that regard, to humans (or most other races, really), but it’s always with the bittersweet knowledge that he’ll live long enough to see them grow old and die many times over.
alias
nicknames: Mike
age: 36
pronouns: He/Him
timezone: Mountain Standard Time
contact: Hit me on the Hipchat channel
triggers: Not really any
mature threading: Bring it on
other characters: Justin Halloway about: This is the very first character that I ever roleplayed, though he’s had some serious revisions since that time as my roleplaying matured and lost some of the more annoying tendencies.
