Appearance

Mentality

Personal history

It was nice how we lived together, a small group traveling with just us seven. Mom, Arancia, Lampone, Mora, Fragola, Albicocca and me. We would go anywhere we wanted traveling through villages, cities and other settlements. If we weren't visiting a festival or another party of some sorts we'd make our own. It was wonderful or atleast that is what I was told.

Mom died when I was four. We were told to stay at this inn called the "Pears Lemonade" for a few days until she returned. Before she left she said goodbye to all of us in person. The last thing she said to me was that she loved me and to follow my path when the time comes.

When she flew off Arancia, Lampone and Mora started arguing Fragola took me and then a still infant Albicocca to our rooms. After she tucked us in she told me that she had something for me. It was a small doll, some kind of pink fire man. Fragola told me that she always made weird dolls for our birthdays and that I could have mine early.

After a week we understood that she wasn't coming back. We decided to stay for a few more days but the evening before the day we'd leave a man came in asking for us. He introduced himself as Sale Curare a servant of Szass Tam. He told us Szass Tam had information for us concerning our mothers fate. My brothers and sister decided that we should follow him, as we stepped through a portal and we found ourselves in an office smelling like cigars, cleaning alcohol and cologne. Behind a big silver metal desk in a tufted leather burgundy chair with golden buttons sat an older gentleman with a giant red beard and sunken eyes.

He introduced himself as Szass Tam leader of the Red Wizards, the Zulkir of necromancy and the commander of the Legion of Bone. As he told us that our mother died in battle I could feel tears pouring down my face. He told us not to cry because the man that ended our mothers life was also killed that same day. I didn't understand how that would make our mothers death any better but I was done for the day. He told us that we could stay as long as we liked and told Sale to show us our rooms. My siblings agreed that it would be for the best for "the smaller ones" to rest.

A few days passed and one by one we were asked to meet with Szass alone. Normally you'd be weirded out by such a request but we've gotten familiar with him, he was there during meals but he never ate anything and he just watched how we ate and interacted with each other. During these meals he always tried to smile to come over as a friendly host but it always felt off well atleast to me, Arancia and Mora made conversation with him. Lampone also started showing interest after a few days. After five days it was my turn to speak with him. Fragola asked me if she had to come with me but I declined, said I was old enough maybe a bit stuborn but I was four at the time.

I entered his office. The smell was even stronger than the first time I was here. "How are you Morello?" he asked. I said something along the lines that I was okay. "Holding on I see. Morello the reason I asked you to come here is that I have a question for you. I've heard about your way of living before, you children traveled through the world with your mother. But since your mother is not here anymore you children need guidance. I am willing to give you that. I can make sure you get a place to sleep, food and ways to develop yourself. Your siblings have agreed to stay here but do not let them hold you back. Do you want this Morello?" Not wanting to lose anyone I agreed.

Two years later after I returned from studying I heard my two oldest brothers arguing about something. An hour passed and I heard knocking on my door, when I opened my door it was Arancia. He explained he found out something and had to go. I asked him because of what and why he had to leave, he told me he could not explain it right now but he gave me a watch and in that watch was a hidden sending stone so that whenever I needed him I could call. I gave him a hug and he left. Lampone and Mora both turned a lot colder when he left. Mora became a lot stricter and Lampone focused more on his work for Szass Tam. 

A decade later Fragola had her first mission and I wanted to join since it was a simple delivery of a letter together with Lampone and Fragola. Lampone told me I was not ready yet, that I was not strong enough and had not developed my dragon powers yet. I kept bugging him and he finally let me join. I wish I was not so stubborn back then because the mission was a trap. 

When I brought the letter to the officer he tried to attack me but I quickly dodged it. I ran outside and told Lampone and Fragola what happened but they were already in combat. I tried to use my breath attack but I choked, I could not get it to work. I lost myself in a panic.

When I returned home I got scolded by Lampone. He yelled at me that "I was not a real Half-Dragon, that I since I didn't look the part, I could not act the part and not be a part of..." I knew how the sentence would end.

I failed.

The next two decenia I mostly focused on ways to cover up my weaknesses. I trained on keeping a straight face and learning about further increasing my draconic powers to no avail. I studied every aspect of dragon atonomy but found not a single way to increase my powers without a draconic blessing. So I had to make it myself and I would not fail again.

I studied different ways of flying and tried to make a suit to copy dragon wings. I finally had a design that worked but it was not fast enough I needed a way to increase my speed but every power source I used stopped working and or exploded. 

It was in this time that I had my second mission this time it was with Mora. We had to take over a small camp. It was the first time I had to kill. Mora had a dead look in her eyes while she fought. We were told that it was a gang of thieves and zealots but these were villagers.
In one of these people tents there was a metal man and next to it in a small lead box was this stone. It gave of so much energy I knew that this would be the core of my suit.

A week after my mission was Albicocca's turn. I hoped it was nothing like mine but she changed after it. When she came back her eyes had the same look as Mora. At the end of the day there was a letter on my bed. It was from Mora she explained that since Albicocca and I were ready now she could leave and make her own. While I was reading this letter I noticed a secret map of a part of the Swordcoast with some music notes next to it.

After another year I was done developing my suit. It was time to take flight. I would be lying if I got it on the first try or my second or nineteenth but on my twentieth try I finally got it. It was breathtaking although quite heavy on my back. 

I asked Szass Tam for recon missions and he allowed me to do so. After I left the room Sale made a sly remark that the Half-Dragon finally showed some dragon prowess. I let it slide he had said a lot worse over the years.

I spent the years since then on recon, improving my straight face and gaining a reputation as a noble while disguising my metal wings as feathery ones. Deep down I knew that working for Szass Tam was bad and I was ready to change my side but I could not leave my siblings behind. I was going to look for that place in the Swordcoast and those music notes.

Arancia:
Arancia is the first child of Havarlan and an unknown gold Half-Dragon. Not a lot is known about his dad but Arancia always assumed he died in battle. Arancia comes across as a rough hoodlum but he has a gentle heart to those he understands. He is highly perceptive, intelligent and quick-witted while keeping a perpetually cool, neutral or slightly disinterested attitude. Because of his attitude other people tend to percieve him as callous.
After two years living at Szass Tams estate he left when he uncovered the truth about Szass Tams practices.

(As a base class I'd make him a paladin since he had the most time with Havarlan. I read something about the Talons and I think he would become a member when he left.)

Lampone:
Lampone is the second child of Havarlan and a unknown Goliath. Lampone's father left when he heard Havarlan was pregnant with his child, his fate after this is unknown. Lampone massive height and strength are almost as strong as his faith in Szass Tam. As a teenager, Lampone was a good-hearted person, who tried to be the best in everything he did but after the death of his mother he lost his way and fell into despair which only worsened after Arancia left. After living at Szass Tams estate for a year he got a visit by the man himself. When his conversation ended he started picking himself up and gained a new credo. Through the years Lampone became a radical believer in Szass Tam and his view of the world.

(You said Szass Tam made dracoliches right if you wanted to do something shocking make this one a dracolich I found some pretty cool art but it isn't that lichy yet.)

Mora:
Mora is the third child of Havarlan and Argynvost. She never knew who her father was. Mora is a courageous and dignified woman and practically raised her younger siblings as a subjugate mother. She behaves like a defined and elegant woman which does not let any emotion transpire. Mora constantly reminded everyone of her siblings that emotions are secondary to their missions. After Albicocca became of age she left aswell because she knew about Szass Tams practices and could not stand it anymore.

(She probably joined the Harpers.)

Fragola:
Fragola is the fourth child of Havarlan and a Halfling called Binbel Bluefeather. Binbel scurried away after Havarlan unveiled her true form. Fragola is a mild-mannered yet inquisitive woman. She is understanding of others and always cherishes the memories she made with people. OVer the years she turned progressively more resourceful in the face of danger and has shown a readiness to hurt her enemies to protect the ones she loves. While she loves her family she still harbours ill feeling towards her mother because she left her.

(I don't particularly have anything in mind for her she was more the loving and caring part of motherhood opposed to Mora's more stricter parental style.)

Albicocca:
Albicocca is the sixth and youngest child of Havarlan and a unknown Dryad. She never knew either of her parents. Albicocca is an intelligent, gentle and courageous girl. Albicocca has never been a fan of interacting with people she doesn't know and is rather withdrawn. Although she is prone to nervousness, Albicocca is extremely ingenious, being adept at tricking people or performing other tricks to escape notice. She can read lips and is a competent actor, in battle she has shown a hidden ruthless side to her.

(I don't have a specific thing I want you to do with her.)

Morello's father Avoce Ala:
Avoce Ala was a High Elf with an eye for interesting folk, that is how he came to meet Havarlan. He doesn't know about Morello's excistance since Havarlan left before he could see her again. He is a burgomaster of a small village.

Szass Tam:
Szass Tam is a shorter man with a slightly stocky build. He wears dress shoes and uses a cane to walk which he also uses as a arcane focus. He has a long sleek red somewhat unkempt beard with prominent cheekbones, sunken eyes and a crooked nose. Szass Tam personality is incredibily elusive and meticulous despite holding a prestitious title. Usually he is quite polite and fair but he can demonstrate a rather antisocial behaviour if he is agitated. The thing that gets him heated are rude, slow and impolite people. While he avoids direct confrontation and usually let his guards fight for him he can hold his own in a fight.

(I see him as a pragmatic man thats really patient since he literally has all the time in the world because he is a lich. I'd play him as a Gus Fring from Breaking Bad-esque man.)

Sale Curare:
Sale is an elderly-looking man with a tall slim build. His arms and legs are noticably slimmer than the rest of his body. He is a rather self-serving person and quite the germaphobe. While he would give his life away for his master he cannot stand the smell of his masters undead nature.

"I had to do it. This was the only way."  

The words echoed in my mind, a mantra of justification in the final moments before my death. There was no other option. I was a pawn, a tool, a willing sacrifice for the mission the greater good. "Emotions second, mission first." That was the way I was taught. That was the way I lived.  

And then, that was it.  

It was instant. No pain, no time for regret. Just a blinding light, a sensation of weightlessness, and then... silence.  

So this is death. I always wondered. Now I know.  

Where would my soul go?  

I drifted through the Fugue Plane, an endless gray expanse stretching in all directions. Time lost meaning. Was it minutes? Days? Years? I couldn't tell. Other souls floated past some lost, some resigned, others clinging to memories of the lives they left behind and others got picked up by a representative of their god. I had no such luxury, I knew I was not worthy. I failed. My life had been a duty for the wrong side. I knew it was the wrong side but I was too scared to switch sides until it was too late, and the duty I did was insufficient and had ended with my death.  

Eventually, my journey came to an end. Looming before me was the City of Judgment, its towering walls casting shadows over the countless souls waiting their turn. At its heart stood Kelemvor, the Lord of the Dead. His presence was absolute, his gaze unwavering as he passed sentence on the departed.  

Would he see the righteousness of my actions? Would he understand the necessity of my sacrifice? Or would he see only the blood on my hands, the lives I had taken in my service? I did make a vow to the Ptarian code and did my utmost best to follow the principles. I had died a soldier. But how would I be judged? 

Kelemvor’s gaze fell upon me, and I felt my very essence laid bare before him. There was no hiding from the Lord of the Dead, no excuses to offer. He saw everything—the missions I had carried out, the orders I had followed, the innocent lives lost by my hand. He saw my fear, the way I had clung to duty even when I knew it was wrong. He saw my final act, the sacrifice that had cost me my life.  

For what felt like eternity, he was silent. Then, in a voice like distant thunder, he spoke.  

"You have walked a path of shadows, but your heart was not fully lost to darkness. You hesitated, yes, but in the end, you chose to act. You sought redemption, even in death. That is not meaningless."  

He studied me, his expression unreadable. "But judgement must be passed. Your service weighed heavily upon your soul, yet so too does your final sacrifice. You are not yet beyond redemption. And the world…" He paused, considering something beyond my comprehension. "The world still has need of you."  

A ripple passed through the air. The gray mists of the Fugue Plane swirled around me, twisting, shifting. I felt a pull, something deep and ancient, as though unseen hands were reaching into my very essence.  

"You will not pass into the afterlife this day," Kelemvor decreed. "You will return. Not as who you were, but as who you must become. You will be given another chance to walk the path of righteousness."  

The weight of his words settled over me. Reincarnation. A chance to live again. A chance to make things right.  

The world faded. The last thing I felt was Kelemvor’s steady gaze, as if silently warning me this was no gift. This was a duty.  

Then, there was light. A gasp of breath. The feeling of a heartbeat. The weight of a body, new yet familiar.  

I was no longer what I used to be.

As I grew, I came to understand what I had become. My reflection revealed eyes that gleamed with an unnatural radiance, my skin marked with a faint celestial glow. I was an Aasimar. A being touched by the divine. He had not only returned me to the world, but they had given me a new form, one inherently connected to higher forces.

At first, I struggled with it. My past self, the pawn who had served a dark cause, had no place in this new existence. Yet, as time passed, my memories of that life faded. I was no longer shackled to the chains of my old duty. I could finally be me.

I grew up with my father and mother, simple folk who lived in a quiet village at the edge of civilization. They were kind, loving, and utterly unaware of the soul that had been placed into their child. To them, I was their child, their joy. After a long time, I started to believe it too.

The memories of my past life faded like mist in the morning sun. What had once been sharp and undeniable became distant, like a dream I could never quite remember upon waking. My parents taught me authentic kindness, patience, and genuine love, things I had never truly known before. There was no war, no duty, no endless cycle of orders and bloodshed.

Eventually, I learned I was gifted in magic.

It started subtly, small inexplicable bursts of energy when I was excited or frightened. A candle flaring too high when I laughed, a gust of wind rushing through the house when I cried. My parents called it a blessing, a gift from the gods. I wasn’t so sure.

As I grew, so did my magic. It was untamed, unpredictable. Sometimes it obeyed me, other times it lashed out with a will of its own. There were times when a simple spell would manifest in ways I couldn’t control a harmless flicker of flame becoming a roaring blaze, a whisper of wind turning into a storm.

And beneath it all, there was something else. A presence. A voice that wasn’t quite my own, whispering in the back of my mind. A guide? A warning? Or the remnants of who I used to be? I didn’t know. Recently magic started to disappear and it feels like this is why I got a second chance.

her parents which are named Elric a sheep herder and Fiore a mistress of ceremony. They live in Highcliff.

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Elric and Fiore had always been the quiet heart of Highcliff, though neither of them sought attention. Elric, a simple sheep herder, spent his days in the rolling hills, guiding his flock through the lush meadows with the patience of someone who had known the land his whole life. His hands were calloused from years of work, but his touch was gentle when it came to his daughter, Pluck. He always had time for her—whether it was explaining the stars at night or teaching her how to mend fences. His love for her was unspoken but constant, like the steady rhythm of the seasons.

Fiore, his wife, was the village's mistress of ceremonies. She worked in the background, overseeing festivals, weddings, and rites of passage with grace and elegance. Her smile could light up any room, and her laughter was the soft melody of their home. Though she was busy with her duties, Pluck always knew that her mother’s love was like a soft blanket, comforting and ever-present. Fiore was the one who taught her to be kind, to think of others before herself, and to always look for the beauty in the world—even when it seemed hidden.

Together, they created a home filled with warmth. Pluck would often sit between them, her small hands nestled in theirs, and listen to the stories of how they met, how Elric had once been a traveler, wandering from place to place before he’d found Fiore and decided to stay. 

Fiore would laugh softly, recalling how she had been so focused on her ceremonies that she hadn’t noticed the wandering sheep herder who always showed up just in time to help. “You,” she’d say, with a teasing smile, “were so quiet, I thought you were a ghost at first.”

Elric would chuckle, his eyes twinkling as he glanced at his wife. “I wasn’t a ghost, just a man lost in his thoughts.”

And in those moments, when the two of them spoke of the past, Pluck felt the deep love that had shaped their lives. It was a love that didn’t need grand gestures or fancy words. It was in the simple, everyday acts—the way her father would pull her mother close at night, or how her mother would leave her favorite flowers on his pillow after a long day of work.

Pluck didn’t know it yet, but these moments—these simple, loving moments—would be the foundation that would shape her own journey. Even when the world beyond Highcliff became darker and more uncertain, her parents' love would always be a light she carried with her. 

Intellectual Characteristics

Manifestations

Sorrow & Grief

Pluck winced as a sharp pain pricked her palm. She pulled her hand back, spotting a thin line of blood where a jagged piece of the fence had cut her. She sighed, wiping it with a piece of cloth. Careless.  She glanced at the sheep grazing peacefully nearby, but the sting lingering sharp and cold. And then, without warning, the world around her seemed to shift.  

A memory. But not hers.  Morello stood in the middle of a battlefield. His hands trembled, slick with blood. The bodies around him were still and quiet, faces frozen in terror. Not enemies. Not warriors. Just people. And he had killed them.   His sword cut into his palm as he gripped it tighter. He told himself it was duty that this was what had to be done but the weight of it burned through him.  

“I did this,” his voice echoed bitterly in her mind. “And I can’t take it back.”  

The memory snapped away, and Pluck gasped, stumbling back a step. The meadow was warm again, the sky bright but the cold in her chest remained.   She pressed her bleeding palm against her side, forcing down the ache rising inside her.  

“I’m not him,” she whispered, trying to believe it.  And she wouldn’t be. Not ever.

Connection & Love

Pluck sat on the soft hillside outside Highcliff, her small feet bare and toes digging into the cool grass. The sun was setting, casting the sky in warm shades of orange and pink. The quiet of the evening surrounded her, broken only by the distant bleats of sheep and her mother's gentle voice as she talked to the neighbors.

Pluck grinned, her fingers trailing through the grass. She was alone, but the peace was comforting. The weight of the past seemed so far away, and for once, she didn’t think about the battles or the people she used to be. She was just Pluck, a little girl with the whole world before her.

A sheep wandered over, nudging her leg with its nose. She laughed, reaching down to pet it, feeling the softness of its wool beneath her fingers. The laughter was light, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. 

Her parents, Elric and Fiore, were nearby Elric tending to the sheep, Fiore chatting with the villagers. They were always there, always kind. She was their only child, and they gave her so much love and care.

She closed her eyes for a moment, soaking in the warmth of the sun, the sound of her parents' voices. She didn’t need to prove anything. She didn’t need to be strong or cold or anything she wasn’t. Here, she could just be Pluck*.

The stars began to twinkle above as night settled in. Pluck stretched her arms out, feeling the earth beneath her, grounded and content. 

She smiled to herself. She wasn’t alone. She wasn’t lost. She was exactly where she was meant to be.

This was home. And she was happy.

Destiny & Purpose

Pluck didn’t know why the fading of magic troubled her so deeply.

Most folks noticed it in passing a lamp that didn’t light quite right, a charm that needed repeating, a breeze spell that never caught. Small things. Everyday things. But to Pluck, each falter felt like a thread snapping in a larger tapestry.

She couldn’t explain why it mattered so much. Maybe it was Kelemvor, quietly watching. Maybe it was just some echo from the life she barely remembered—a life of choices, of sacrifice.

But whether divine nudge or faded instinct, the feeling remained: something was unraveling.

She didn’t talk much about it. Not even to her parents. But they knew, in the quiet way parents sometimes do. When she told them she needed to leave, they didn’t argue.

“We saved this,” Elric said, revealing a slender golden staff, its surface dulled with age but still catching the light. “Bought it from a traveling mage years ago. We thought… someday, it might be yours.”

Pluck held it carefully. It felt right in her hands balanced, quiet, waiting.

Fiore packed her bread and dried meat, tucked a book into her satchel, and kissed her brow. “There’s something calling to you,” she said. “You’ve always felt it. Go find it.”

And so, with the golden staff resting across her shoulders and the sea stretching wide before her, Pluck stepped onto a ship bound for Neverwinter.

She didn’t know what she would find there.

But something inside her whispered: this is where it begins.

Curiosity & Knowledge

During the autumn festival in Highcliff, a silver-tongued scholar stood near the bonfire, spinning tales for coin and praise. Tonight, he chose drama.

“They say Clymph Tower fell in a single night,” he declared, cloak swirling. “The garrison fled, and the tower crumbled under the weight of cowardice and cursed winds. A shameful end to a forgotten battle.”

The crowd murmured, most too polite or too unsure to challenge him.

Except one. “No, it didn’t,” said a small voice from the back.

All turned to see Pluck, barely seven, clutching a worn satchel of flowers she'd gathered for her mother. She stepped forward, brows knit in quiet certainty.

“The garrison didn’t flee. They held. To the last. The winds weren’t cursed, they were summoned. By the enemy's stormmage. Morr stood at the tower’s peak and used her own lifeblood to anchor the wards, so the townsfolk could escape.” The scholar blinked. “That’s… apocryphal. You must’ve misheard a tale.”

Pluck shook her head. “She was wearing bronze armor, not silver. That’s why the lightning didn't kill her. It grounded her. Just long enough.”

Even her mother paused from her ceremonial duties to listen. Elric stood in the back, arms folded, quietly watching.

“How do you know that?” the scholar asked, now uneasy. Pluck hesitated. “I… don’t know. I read it somewhere...” Fiore approached, placing a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Perhaps the truth finds those willing to listen.” The scholar said nothing more that night. And far above, the stars over Highcliff shimmered just for a moment as if in quiet agreement.

Hope & Fate

As Pluck soared higher, the wind in her feathers, she felt a tug at her soul, a memory surfacing from another life. It was Morello, his thoughts echoing in her mind. He, too, had felt the rush of freedom in the air. 

Even though his wings had been metal clunky, heavy, and far from natural he had once felt the same exhilaration. In the midst of the cold steel, he had still tasted the sky. The wind had howled past him, the world stretched wide below, and for a brief, precious moment, he had been weightless, unburdened by duty or design. The mechanical wings had hummed with power, lifting him higher, faster, making him feel as though he could break free of all the chains that had once bound him.

Pluck felt a bittersweet smile form as she glided effortlessly, realizing the connection. His freedom hadn’t been the wings themselves, but the flight. It had been his moment of release, just like hers now.

She breathed deeply, remembering Morello’s yearning for a life unchained. She understood now. His wings, though artificial, had given him that taste of freedom. And in her own flight, she could feel it, too a freedom she had never known, but one he had dreamed of, even if only for a moment.

Personality

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