#opensilver

THE TRADER ~

NAME. UTP AGE & BIRTH DATE. 30+ SPECIES. Silver Elvhen FACTION. Merchant's Guild. OCCUPATION. Merchant.

There was profit to be made anywhere, coins were easy to come by for people willing to lower themselves to pick them up. Child of the Seven, you weren’t handed a gilded spoon like other wealthy heirs, your father had many children from many different sources, this was known, but no bastard was anything in his eyes until you could pay your own way. He put you on a vessel that landed on Iskaran shores, you came to the cold, brutal land with nothing but a ship, the clothes on your back, and an education. The first thing you procured was a knife, after a year you had a ship and a meager trade deal between jarlings. The year following you held an agreement between a noble of Lysara, a lesson came in your third year when Raiders swept a vessel clean. Then you hired pirates of your own, your competitor went under, and you thrived. You purchased another company suffering distress, absorbed their connections, and still you flourished. Business was good, and war was usually good for that sort of thing - all you needed to do was ask your friends in Astoria or Caribella, but Aetheron’s attack left little room for negotiation. Rescued and saved only by the thugs in your faithful employ, would anyone care if your greedy life was cut short? Did it bother you that they wouldn’t? Not really, because you’d had to start over before, and every setback presented a new opportunity. There was always coin to be made for those willing to lower themselves to pick them up.

CONNECTS

N/A

NOTES

TQH: Troupe 1 - Refugee ABILITY: Gilded gold transmutation: The ability to transform objects into gold, but it does not last.

THE GRIEF ~

NAME. UTP AGE & BIRTH DATE. 30+ SPECIES. Silver Elvhen FACTION. UTP. OCCUPATION. UTP.

Child of Ardalith, the youngest in a branch of Avalon that was born amidst the light of the Laurelin. Your people and your family were your world, noble blood coursed through you and for as long as you lived you swore there would never come a day where you could see yourself putting Varda’s Cavern behind you for good. Yet, here you are, silver elvhen. Here you are composed of tragedy, the product of violence, blood, and heartache. Here you are without the very reason you gave up immortality to begin with. Iskarans were unkind, brutish, and cruel. Yet, you loved one anyways. Iskarans hated all manner of magic, yet, this person that would someday be your spouse loved you anyways. In spite of, or perhaps because of. Your children would have a difficult life, but together you’d make plans to see them safely beyond the borders. The animals listened to you and you listened to them, it helped, this business of knowing things. Conquerors swept across Iskaran borders, Aetheron felled the fields, the trees, and their warriors swept across the nation. The world would go on to call them liberators, those who broke the chains, but you saw your spouse strewn in pieces, your family with them. Now you walk, you march, and you carry the great ache of unrelenting mortal loss. Grieving elvhen, is this the end of your story?

CONNECTS

N/A

NOTES