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Slade Calormorn
Seldric Winterblade


Physical Description/Room Entrance

Slade Calormorn is a 23 year old human male, who looks to be about 6'2'' and weighing around 184 pounds. He has obsidian colored hair, that reaches half past his shoulderblades. He has a red cloth bandana with runic markings on it in a dull silver color tied around his forehead. He is wearing a very dark greenish brown leather jerkin, and very dark greenish brown leather pants, with black boots that reach his knee, the top of which are outlined in silver. He wears a leather pack across his shoulders, inside which metallic clinks can be heard every so often. In his hand is a short javelin; about 3 feet in length, and tipped with an ebony point that is 6 1/2'' long.

Vital Statistics

Full Name Slade Calormorn
Age 23
Height 6'2''
Weight 184 pounds
Eye Color Brown
Hair Color Obsidian
Origin City of Darangarrd
Occupation Wanderer
Favorite Weapon Javelin


Slade is a brash young kid, who knows what needs to be done in a moment of crisis, and doesn't hesistate to do it, or at least to attempt to do it. For this reason, he isn't a good leader, and he isn't exactly a great team player, but when the going gets tough, Slade's right there. Slade doesn't want a leadership role, and if there's a more experienced fighter in the party, he'll take the rear guard. He'll sacrifice himself for the good of the group if the need arises, without any hesistation at all.


He grew up on the streets of Darangaard, a poor urchin who wasn't fortunate enough to have gone through formal schooling. His studies were of finding food and shelter, his homework to stay alive until the next morning. As he grew, he found a javelin, the very same javelin which he uses today, some 10 years later. He began practicing with it, at first merely playing with it, chasing rats and birds in the city, then his attention turned toward sparring with his fellow urchins for paltry coins. As he grew, he became very good at this, too, and soon left his urchanite home and traveled to the shaddier side of town, and competed in the professional fighting circles, and made a considerably larger amount of money. He then left Darangaard, reasonably well-off, and traveled from town to town and eventually hired himself out as a mercenary. One of his lateset mercenary trips led him out to the area around the Golden Lake Inn. After the job was complete, he came to the inn, and there he met Ian of Whipstaff, and the two became fast friends, traveling to various bars for a good time.

It was in one of these such bars that he met Faedril, an Elven ranger. The two became friends, and Slade offered to share his bed with her for the night. Oh, what a night this turned out to be for them. They fell in love with each other, though neither allowed the other to know it, until one night, when Slade proclaimed his love, and was met with very admirable consequences. The two became bored with the dull life of the Inn, and set out to the coast. It was once there, that Slade's world came to a crashing halt.

She left him.

Slade had just laid down beside her, and they nestled, like they always did, and he drifted to sleep. When he woke up the next morning, she and all of her belongings were gone. Disheartened, he treked back to the Golden Lake Inn, to the comfort of it's ale and people he knew. Time to start again.

And start again, he did. He can't exactly remember how he came to meet her, most likely because they both ended up quite drunk as a result, but Slade came into contact with another woman of the forest, the part-Elf and part-Wolf woman known as Softwater. The two of them became instant friends, and companions, much to the chagrin of Darkfur, Softwater's wolf companion.

The two of them have spent many weeks with one another, with Slade teaching Softwater the ways of the city, and Softwater teaching him how to be a hunter and woodsman.

Why I created him

The reason I created Slade was because my other character, Erstaad just isn't a character to adventure with. Slade is a fighter. A scrapper, almost. He's fun to RP with during a fight, and never misses a beat to poke fun at the leader's misstepping. Last updated Saturday January 13, 2001.