Ahh..the teen years…

The Last time you’ll EVER see me in a dress!

DM NOTE: Damaia is very hot, but she’s also self-reliant, she knows who she is, and she won’t take crap from anybody, which appeals to members of both sexes. Not only is she physically attractive, but her quick wit and strong spirit attracts people to her, but more often than not, if she wants nothing to do with you, she won’t even notice.


Rough Outline (not a final draft)

Damaia, Tiefling

30yrs old, F, 5’8”, 160lbs, Unaligned, Diety: Ioun

Scarlet Skin, Charcoal/black horns, Shiny Black Hair, All-Black eyes

Bounty Hunter, spend most time in Baulder’s Gate.

Speaks: Common, Abyssal (demon, gnolls, sauhagin), and possibly Draconic?(baulder’s gate)

Orphaned as a baby, always homeless, angered to have been left alone unlike everyone else who seemed to know where they came from, became a bounty hunter to fight back at careless and stupid beings. As gold rushed in from work from town to town, she became rather proud, fearless, and untrusting. Usually fighting alone, occasionally she got with an adventuring group here and there whether it was to help them on their quest or to make her job quicker so she could move on to the next thing. Never having any attachments to towns or people, she seeks her next gig.

After making her way into Brindol she found an inn that was familiar to her. She knew the bartender and sat down on the stool to have a few ales. It was a long day of traveling, she was tired and feeling a little depressed. No gold for a while now. She shouldn’t be wasting what little she had on drinks but it was the only thing she could do to get rid of bad feelings that were being dug up in her mind. The bar was typical. Like all the other ones she’s been to. A few strange members sprinkled around the room, an eladrin who was sipping wine while others were guzzling ale, and a dragonborn, white as snow, he was keeping an eye on the rest of us. She could hear in the distance outside laughing/screaming and sounds of danger getting closer and closer. She kept her cool. Kept drinking, waiting for the intrusion. As soon as the door burst open and screams from travelers alerted the rest of the inn; she spun around, legs still crossed in her stuck-up fashion, and a purple ball of flames gust out of her hands into the face of the enemy…


FR Scales of War shenny4