Artemis Petra: The Raconteur
Nov 21, 2015 9:03:33 GMT
Post by Artemis on Nov 21, 2015 9:03:33 GMT
Artemis Petra
The Raconteur of Caravan City
Born:
Backstory
The Raconteur of Caravan City
The Raconteur of Caravan City
Physical Traits
Race: Half-Elf
Hair Colour: Light Auburn
Hair Style: medium length, as shown in above photo
Eye Colour: Faded Blue
Skin Tone: Pale, freckled
Age: 20
Height: 5'6
Weight: 130 Lbs
Additional Info
Born:
Mistshore, Waterdeep
Resided in:
Caravan City, Waterdeep
Former Occupation:
Newsgirl, part time performer
Newsgirl, part time performer
Current Occupation:
Survivor
Deity(s):
Milil, Shaundakul, Tymora
Theme song
Survivor
Deity(s):
Milil, Shaundakul, Tymora
Theme song
Personality
Artemis was born in Waterdeep, the largest city on all of Faerun. As a result, she has seen everything from cold nobility to rough and tough criminality, but no class of being ever intrigued Artemis more than the Adventurer. These people, of all races, passed through the mighty city of Waterdeep- selling their plundered goods or completing a quest, no matter their objective, it was Waterdeep they used as a hub. To a strange little half-elven lass, this was the life of her dreams.This influence caused Artemis to believe Adventure was the pinnacle of living one's life. If you're not spending your life exploring the realm and completing perilous or intriguing quests, you weren't of interest to young Art. This has given Artemis a naive and idealistic point of view of the world, believing everyone's story is an epic of its own. Her naivety has cost her on many occasions, but her idealism never falters. Growing up with an elven father, Artemis was taught Elven as a second language growing up, and she was also taught his ego. Artemis does not think herself a very flawed woman, often comes off as conceited, and is stubborn when it comes to putting said ego aside for the greater good. Then Art's mother, a human, was a merchant. She was once an adventurer herself, a Priestess of Tymora. She taught her daughter many things, but the thing that stuck the most with Artemis was that luck was the result of one's good deeds in life, and if she wanted good luck- she had to treat others how she would like to be treated. Sometimes this clashes with her Ego, when it is at risk, but usually she tries her best to treat others well. Of course, her parents were not perfect role models. Her father was an alcoholic, and Artemis did not escape the potentially abusive situation at home unscathed. She is incredibly defensive and sometimes says things she shouldn't to keep her own self image intact, and can be fairly boisterous when it comes to retelling her own stories. As a bard, she is obsessed with story telling and as a result can often get caught up in the potential of her own adventure- disregarding the danger at hand. Her mother was very controlling with her, and she can also be just as bossy or controlling as her mother.
Artemis was born in Waterdeep, the largest city on all of Faerun. As a result, she has seen everything from cold nobility to rough and tough criminality, but no class of being ever intrigued Artemis more than the Adventurer. These people, of all races, passed through the mighty city of Waterdeep- selling their plundered goods or completing a quest, no matter their objective, it was Waterdeep they used as a hub. To a strange little half-elven lass, this was the life of her dreams.This influence caused Artemis to believe Adventure was the pinnacle of living one's life. If you're not spending your life exploring the realm and completing perilous or intriguing quests, you weren't of interest to young Art. This has given Artemis a naive and idealistic point of view of the world, believing everyone's story is an epic of its own. Her naivety has cost her on many occasions, but her idealism never falters. Growing up with an elven father, Artemis was taught Elven as a second language growing up, and she was also taught his ego. Artemis does not think herself a very flawed woman, often comes off as conceited, and is stubborn when it comes to putting said ego aside for the greater good. Then Art's mother, a human, was a merchant. She was once an adventurer herself, a Priestess of Tymora. She taught her daughter many things, but the thing that stuck the most with Artemis was that luck was the result of one's good deeds in life, and if she wanted good luck- she had to treat others how she would like to be treated. Sometimes this clashes with her Ego, when it is at risk, but usually she tries her best to treat others well. Of course, her parents were not perfect role models. Her father was an alcoholic, and Artemis did not escape the potentially abusive situation at home unscathed. She is incredibly defensive and sometimes says things she shouldn't to keep her own self image intact, and can be fairly boisterous when it comes to retelling her own stories. As a bard, she is obsessed with story telling and as a result can often get caught up in the potential of her own adventure- disregarding the danger at hand. Her mother was very controlling with her, and she can also be just as bossy or controlling as her mother. Backstory
The Raconteur of Caravan City
Come one, come all, gather round and hear the tale of the Raconteur! The storyteller of Caravan City and her beginning in Faerun. Go on, go on, take your seats, grab your ales, sit back and listen to my tale. It starts on a cold, wet evening in Mistshore, the most dangerous place in all of Waterdeep- so dangerous, in fact, that the guards won't even enter it any more! Aye, that's right, a bloody city and they won't guard part of it. Now that you know how darned dangerous this place is, you understand that it's no place for a baby. No, no her parent's couldn't have that. Though her father was a known criminal, he hung up his sword and decided to raise a baby with his lover. Aye, oh yes what a tragic tale to be born in such a place. But, but... don't you worry your little hearts, Artemis and her family made it out of Mistshore and bought the first place they could out of that flea infested nest of criminals.
They went to the South Ward- though most know it as The Caravan City. As faaaar as your eye could see, caravans and caravans. They formed streets and shopping centers, spanning across the whole city, all made from caravans of varying sizes. It was in this thriving metropolis of wood and wheels that Artemis sprouted up and became a flower. She lived a poor life with her mother and father, but it was a relatively happy life. Apart from her occasionally drunken father and controlling mother, things were good for young Artemis for a very long time. But she always had that twinkle in her eye- somethin' in her, maybe it was the elf in her, maybe it was the human.. she craved for adventure, but not just to experience, to be the historian of it. To tell the tale a million times over and cement her own legacy among the adventurers she so idealized in Waterdeep. She started to practice the fiddle at the ripe age of ten, mastering it and the art of writing all by the age of fifteen. She knew how to tell the tale- but she had to get to it. This was where things were tough for young Artemis, what's a poor dust gatherin' lass like little Art gonna do with no money, no connections and two parents content living out the rest of their lives in a Caravan? She had to find some way to make it by, and she knew how to do it without losin' her mind. So, she joined the local news paper and started at the bottom- delivering to the subscribers of the news and generally completing her boss's dirty work. Not the most fun, but she had to get by- her parent's weren't gonna be going anywhere soon. She loved them both, but the world ain't about staying at home. So she moved out of home and started performing at local inns around Waterdeep, searching and searching for her first big break.
Five long years of barely getting by got to young Artemis, and she started to lose hope for herself. Maybe she wasn't the unstoppable hero she grew up wishing she could be? She still wasn't making enough gold to get out of Waterdeep or quit her awful job as a news woman- writing about the opinions of the Waterdhavians is like putting your hand in a barrel of piranhas. There were no stories to be told, just loud opinions. She didn't like it, but she kept herself sane performing at inns and interacting with travellers. Young Art kept her chin up, she did. She kept performing her heart out, though not much of a singer, she could play a mean fiddle and adored the prospect of telling a good story and uplifting the hopes of the many onlookers. She always wanted the stories to be about her, or her and her adventurous friends, on perilous journeys wrought with terror and passion. Then, he came along. The shrouded man, covered in thick black robes and a hooded cloak that veiled his appearance- he came to the inn Artemis was playing at that week, and told the story of the Lost Empire of Siranda. Its incredible riches, its vast unclaimed lands and monsters ready for the pillaging. This was a risky choice... But a group of Sailors and Mercenaries banded together at the man's tale- and planned to leave the next month with ample supplies for taking on this lost empire and coming back rich and famous! She joined up with them, helping them plan their journey and coming out with a hefty percentage of the prospective outcome. She packed her things, hugged her mother and father goodbye and promised she would return and share her riches with them.
Little did she know, however, that this was the last time young Art was gonna be seein' her ma and pa. Aye, aye. It was, but sometimes we have to accept that- sometimes we have to come to terms with losing something and moving on. Sooner or later, young Art had to tell them those words. But nobody ever expects it to be their last. Art hopped on the boat and headed to the island of Siranda, days of difficult sailing through treacherous waters left her tired and missing solid land, and she was soon obliged. Upon coming into vision, young Artemis spotted shadows moving under the water- and before she could alert the captain, the ship hit something hard and started to take on water. The crew jumped to action, readying the lifeboats and emptying into them with as many supplies as they could, rowing for the island with due haste. Almost a day of rowing with an incredibly crowded, sweaty group of men made Artemis realize this was too risky of a choice- but it was too late. She was in the thick of it, and trust me folks... It gets worse! Aye, upon reaching shore the group set up camp on the beachhead, Artemis preparing her things and looking to take a night to appreciate her good fortune in surviving that shipwreck.
A half a night of rest later, the lass was awoken- to the sounds of screaming in the blackness of her camp! Men, just like her friends, had assaulted her camp and began feasting on her friends. Cannibals? Nay, listener, far worse! Undead. The undead had the upper hand, biting their foes to bits and overrunning her allies. Artemis was shocked- what was she to do? All she had was a fiddle! She could only sing, and no amount of singing could fix this! She grabbed a nearby piece of wood and began running for the woods, to the city up ahead- a small coastal city with high walls. A perfect place to run to, you'd think.. But you'd be wrong as well. She came up to this city, walking through the thick woods to approach the city gates only to notice them swaying in the wind, ajar and lifeless. No light emitted from the towers of the city, but she didn't have many options. There were Undead about. She pushed open the gate and set about the streets of Kalaram, but she didn't get far. Nay, that's when it all became apparent. This wasn't no lost empire, it was a dead empire. Everyone on Siranda was a bloody deader, and she was the only one left in her crew- with only a fiddle and a bloody piece of wood to keep herself safe! What happens next, ye say? Aye, aye, let me go n' take a piss n' fix this here loot, little guy needs some tunin' after a while. You sit tight right there, there's much more to lil' Art's story!
They went to the South Ward- though most know it as The Caravan City. As faaaar as your eye could see, caravans and caravans. They formed streets and shopping centers, spanning across the whole city, all made from caravans of varying sizes. It was in this thriving metropolis of wood and wheels that Artemis sprouted up and became a flower. She lived a poor life with her mother and father, but it was a relatively happy life. Apart from her occasionally drunken father and controlling mother, things were good for young Artemis for a very long time. But she always had that twinkle in her eye- somethin' in her, maybe it was the elf in her, maybe it was the human.. she craved for adventure, but not just to experience, to be the historian of it. To tell the tale a million times over and cement her own legacy among the adventurers she so idealized in Waterdeep. She started to practice the fiddle at the ripe age of ten, mastering it and the art of writing all by the age of fifteen. She knew how to tell the tale- but she had to get to it. This was where things were tough for young Artemis, what's a poor dust gatherin' lass like little Art gonna do with no money, no connections and two parents content living out the rest of their lives in a Caravan? She had to find some way to make it by, and she knew how to do it without losin' her mind. So, she joined the local news paper and started at the bottom- delivering to the subscribers of the news and generally completing her boss's dirty work. Not the most fun, but she had to get by- her parent's weren't gonna be going anywhere soon. She loved them both, but the world ain't about staying at home. So she moved out of home and started performing at local inns around Waterdeep, searching and searching for her first big break.
Five long years of barely getting by got to young Artemis, and she started to lose hope for herself. Maybe she wasn't the unstoppable hero she grew up wishing she could be? She still wasn't making enough gold to get out of Waterdeep or quit her awful job as a news woman- writing about the opinions of the Waterdhavians is like putting your hand in a barrel of piranhas. There were no stories to be told, just loud opinions. She didn't like it, but she kept herself sane performing at inns and interacting with travellers. Young Art kept her chin up, she did. She kept performing her heart out, though not much of a singer, she could play a mean fiddle and adored the prospect of telling a good story and uplifting the hopes of the many onlookers. She always wanted the stories to be about her, or her and her adventurous friends, on perilous journeys wrought with terror and passion. Then, he came along. The shrouded man, covered in thick black robes and a hooded cloak that veiled his appearance- he came to the inn Artemis was playing at that week, and told the story of the Lost Empire of Siranda. Its incredible riches, its vast unclaimed lands and monsters ready for the pillaging. This was a risky choice... But a group of Sailors and Mercenaries banded together at the man's tale- and planned to leave the next month with ample supplies for taking on this lost empire and coming back rich and famous! She joined up with them, helping them plan their journey and coming out with a hefty percentage of the prospective outcome. She packed her things, hugged her mother and father goodbye and promised she would return and share her riches with them.
Little did she know, however, that this was the last time young Art was gonna be seein' her ma and pa. Aye, aye. It was, but sometimes we have to accept that- sometimes we have to come to terms with losing something and moving on. Sooner or later, young Art had to tell them those words. But nobody ever expects it to be their last. Art hopped on the boat and headed to the island of Siranda, days of difficult sailing through treacherous waters left her tired and missing solid land, and she was soon obliged. Upon coming into vision, young Artemis spotted shadows moving under the water- and before she could alert the captain, the ship hit something hard and started to take on water. The crew jumped to action, readying the lifeboats and emptying into them with as many supplies as they could, rowing for the island with due haste. Almost a day of rowing with an incredibly crowded, sweaty group of men made Artemis realize this was too risky of a choice- but it was too late. She was in the thick of it, and trust me folks... It gets worse! Aye, upon reaching shore the group set up camp on the beachhead, Artemis preparing her things and looking to take a night to appreciate her good fortune in surviving that shipwreck.
A half a night of rest later, the lass was awoken- to the sounds of screaming in the blackness of her camp! Men, just like her friends, had assaulted her camp and began feasting on her friends. Cannibals? Nay, listener, far worse! Undead. The undead had the upper hand, biting their foes to bits and overrunning her allies. Artemis was shocked- what was she to do? All she had was a fiddle! She could only sing, and no amount of singing could fix this! She grabbed a nearby piece of wood and began running for the woods, to the city up ahead- a small coastal city with high walls. A perfect place to run to, you'd think.. But you'd be wrong as well. She came up to this city, walking through the thick woods to approach the city gates only to notice them swaying in the wind, ajar and lifeless. No light emitted from the towers of the city, but she didn't have many options. There were Undead about. She pushed open the gate and set about the streets of Kalaram, but she didn't get far. Nay, that's when it all became apparent. This wasn't no lost empire, it was a dead empire. Everyone on Siranda was a bloody deader, and she was the only one left in her crew- with only a fiddle and a bloody piece of wood to keep herself safe! What happens next, ye say? Aye, aye, let me go n' take a piss n' fix this here loot, little guy needs some tunin' after a while. You sit tight right there, there's much more to lil' Art's story!
