Basic Information Name: James Cantor Gender: Male Race: Copper Dragon Age: He doesn't tell people Profession: Bard Languages: Various Accent: Waterdhavian
Physical Information Height: 6'1" (185.5cm) Weight: 250lbs (113.3Kg) Body build: Muscular Skin type: Appears smooth, but when in bright light (natural daylight, or near a fire) glints of copper scales can be seen. Hair style: Neat, shoulder length red hair
  Colouring:
Hair: Red
Eyes: Bright Blue, glows in low light, or according to mood
Skin: Light Tan
Mental Information Alignment: Chaotic Good Philosophy: "I don't judge people, and I expect the same. It is my job to make the world more beautiful while I'm in it, not to enact my worldview upon it" Deity/Beliefs: Sunite; Follows the dogma closely. Also vindicates Hlal. Â Â Personality:
Loves to have a laugh. Usually has a drink in hand, though he is rarely drunk. Makes jokes to lighten the mood during serious matters, though he knows when to keep his mouth shut. Additional Information Gear: A lute that his mother gave him a decade and a half ago. Habbits/hobbies: Singing, playing instruments, writing music, and drinking mead. General Health: Perfect Health Favorite Drink: Mead Weaknesses: ((Hidden for better RP))
  The wind rushed past her wings. She fled in tears, the bellowing, threatening voice of the red dragon behind her threatening vengeance. Her thoughts racing, she flew for miles, well outside of her hunting range, and then looked for a place to hide in case the red was close. She dropped into a small copse of trees, burying the only egg she could grab. To better hide herself, she took on a humanoid form. As she sat there leaning up against the tree, tears streaming down her face, she recounted the events that had led to this point in her life.
  Athwilix was her name. She was a beautiful copper dragon, who had just recently become of age to bear eggs. She was in her 52nd year, and was looking for a mate. She eventually found one. His name was Grythnic, a graceful male who had surpassed his 100th year, someone who was wiser in the world than she; someone who could take care of her brood.   It was a perfect match. The first time they met, the battle of wits lasted for days, with both leaving feeling like they had won. On their second meeting, the sparks flew. The bantering grew in intensity, growing in ferocity, until they found themselves entangled in an embrace of love. It wasn't long before she sought him out again with the news that he was to be a father.   After the internal incubation period, she laid 4 eggs in a cave they had found and shaped together. They took turns watching over the eggs and hunting, bantering with each other at every opportunity. Things seemed like they were working out perfectly, until just over a year after she had laid the eggs passed.   They were both excited. Soon the eggs would be hatched, and they'd have a brood of little, mischievous copper dragons running around. Then, the red came visiting. It seemed like a cordial visit, the red interested in who had made a home here. The red was ranging, far from a red's usual territory, and had spotted the signs of dragons, and decided to pay them a visit.   As coppers are wont to do, however, they soon engaged the red in a battle of wits. Things grew tense after that, with the red beginning to take offense at the games and laughter of the coppers. Finally, his temper flared enough, and the red reached the boiling point. With one swift motion, the more powerful red grabbed Grythnic's neck in his jaws and clamped down. Grythnic struggled, but the smaller copper was no match for the older and larger red.   Athwilix, seeing there was no helping her mate, did the only thing she could have done. She grabbed the first egg within reach, and flew up and out the emergency exit they had shaped. She immediately invoked her innate copper dragon powers, sealing the hole behind her.
  Athwilix did not know how long the red would be angry at her. But knew it would be a long time. She stayed hidden for days, traveling as a humanoid, until she found a caravan. Not knowing the area herself, having been too afraid to change into a dragon and fly; she watched them from a distance, following them, knowing that they would be headed to a town.   One of the humanoids stuck out to her. An Aasimar male. He spoke kindly to the females in caravan, though he never touched them. She learned that his name was James. He was a strong man, one who could take care of others. She used her ability to change into a humanoid, and became a female Aasimar. She made herself known to him by the name of Lily, but kept her identity and the egg a secret. It was obvious he was falling in love with her, but she kept telling him it was not meant to be.
  Soon, a wyrmling was hatched. She kept the young copper hidden until they came to Waterdeep, where she enlisted the aid of a wizard. A spell was cast on the young wyrmling, making him appear as an aasimar baby. The spell was sealed with a tattoo on the back of the wyrmling's shoulder, an arcane mark so small that it appeared to be a birthmark, or a freckle.   Athwilix then sought out James. She revealed the baby to him, and told him that this was the reason she did not accept his proposal for courtship. The man was shocked, but soon assured the woman that he would love both her, and her baby. They named the baby James, after his adopted step-father. They decided together that it would be best if James never found out that James Senior was not his real father.
  Athwilix, meanwhile, never forgot that the red was after her, and likely her baby, James. She wondered how long it would be until she could no longer keep the secret from either James...
    "Dear, how old did you say James was?" James Sr's voice came from the living room.   "About three months, why?" Lily responded from the bedroom.   "Well... you might want to come see this...."   Lily set down the clothes that she was folding, and walked into the living room to see her three month old walking, without holding on to anything. She had to feign surprise.   "My goodness, James! Such a fast learner!" she exclaimed.   James Sr had no reason to doubt his new wife, and so he, too, joined in on the excitement.   "Going to be such a strong young boy! He'll be joining me on the caravan before he learns to say, 'Dada'"   At that moment, James looked his stepfather right in the eye. "Dada".   James Sr looked incredulous. "Did ... did he just say Dada?"   Lily smiled to him. "Looks like you were wrong. He learned to say 'Dada' before joining the caravan." She then looked at her son, wondering how long this charade would last. Surely James Sr would figure things out soon.
  A few months went by, and James' progress was remarkable. Before he was a year old, he was speaking in full thoughts, if not full sentences. By the age of two, he was already helping around the house, and was noticeably larger than anyone his age. By the age of five, and James physically looked like a preteen, discussing things like an adult. James Sr began to suspect there was more to the story, but he kept his thoughts to himself. After all, he didn't know what could be wrong, and Lily was acting as if it was totally natural.   A year or so went by, and James Sr just couldn't stand it any longer. He called Lily into the bedroom and closed the door.   "Lily, love... I need to know the truth about James." He began.   Lily sighed. She knew this day would come. She began telling the tale to James Sr. He, in turn went through several emotions. Anger, disbelief, sympathy. In the end, he hugged his wife.   "You are my Lily. Dragon, or Aasimar. I fell in love with -you-, and not your race."   This understandably was a relief to Lily. Together, they decided that one day they would tell James, but not yet. They began talking contingencies and what they would do under different circumstances.
  James, meanwhile, was blissfully unaware of what was going on.
  "Dad, come here!" James' panicked voice came from the washroom. James Sr rushed in to see his ten year old boy in the middle of the act of shaving. He knew this couldn't be the source of the anxiety though, as James had hit puberty early and had been shaving for nearly a year already.   "What is it, James?"   James simply pointed to the towel he was using to wipe off the straight razor. James Sr took a look and didn't see anything but the foam of the shaving cream.   "What am I looking at?" he asked.   "The ... sparkles..." James said, still in somewhat of a state of shock. James Sr looked closer, and saw what James was pointing out. There, in the shaving cream, were dozens of tiny, glinting specks. When James Sr looked closer, he recognized them as scales. They didn't look like dragon scales, though they had a coppery tint. They were small and fine, like fish scales.   James looked to his father, gauging his reaction. "Dad... what are they?"   "James, there's something I need to tell you," James Sr said. "Wash the rest of the foam off your face, and then come to the study."   James retained his concerned look, but did as he was told. He met his father in the study mere minutes later.
  "James," James Sr began, "It seems that some legends were true."   "What legends, Dad?" James asked.   His father responded, "Well, I didn't want to say anything, because we didn't know for sure anything was going to happen. But somewhere down the line, there's a legend of a dragon having mated with one of my ancestors. It appears that you are manifesting some of the traits of a dragon blood."   "But, you don't have any of these... manifestations," James correctly noted.   "This is true. But you have some bardic magic, from your mother. We wondered if it would cause this," James Sr recited the rehearsed explanation. "Your bardic magic, mixing with the draconic blood must have triggered your manifestations."   "And what about Emily?" James asked, referring to his sister who was five years younger than he was. "Will she also manifest?"   "We don't know," his father replied. He felt bad lying to James, but he and Lily had decided that James was too young to know the truth. One day, he said to himself.   James thought long and hard, then finally asked another question. "Is this why I've always been stronger than boys my age? And taller, and bigger?"   "Yes," James Sr answered nearly truthfully. "And you know what? I think it's time you joined in the business." James Sr had started his own caravanning business between Waterdeep and smaller surrounding villages. They were not his goods; he was simply paid to transport them across land for merchants.   "You mean, I can be a guard with you?" James asked, his blue eyes glowing slightly.   James Sr smiled at him. "Yes. Beginning tomorrow morning, we'll get you training with a sword. I'm thinking of a greatsword for you. And the next caravan that goes out, you'll be with me."
  James was excited. That night, he went to sleep, dreaming of the adventures he would have with his father.
  James quickly became an excellent swordsman. Due to his greater than average strength, he took to the six-foot tall greatsword his father had made for him easily. He was trained in proper offensive and defensive techniques. But when wielding that sword, he loved to just hit things. Hard.   He began going out with the caravan that his father drove. He worked as a guard, and his father paid him a fair wage. They ran into some small trouble every now and again; typically low-life highwaymen who underestimated the abilities of the caravan guards. But most of the trips were uneventful.   The family was usually busy, and though they were not poor, they were not rich, either. So, on the last caravan out for the winter, and the first one in spring, the entire family - James Sr, Lily, James and Emily - all went with the caravan. This was their way of getting a family vacation. They would stay a few days in the town they were headed to. James Sr was good at making sure the first and last trips were different towns every year.   It was the spring after James' 12th winter. The family had taken their usual vacation, and were headed to a small town. The trip should have taken about a tenday. However, after about three days out, the unexpected happened.   The caravan was attacked by a band of orcs, well outside their usual territory. There was no way that the caravan guards could have expected an attack of this magnitude. The orcs were more than just an advance party. James never found out what they were. He thought back on it later. Perhaps a fallen chieftain who took some of the tribe with him? Maybe an entire tribe displaced by a heavy snow that winter? Whatever it was, the guards stood no chance.   The attack came on suddenly. Orcs riding worgs led the assault, while archers from the trees pelted the caravan with flaming arrows. James was near the front of the caravan with his father when the attack occurred.   "Get your mother and your sister out!" yelled James Sr. "I'll hold them up here as long as I can."   James did not take the time to respond; obeying the command immediately. Through the smoke of the burning wagons, he could barely see. He made his way to the covered wagon where his mother and sister had been, to see it entirely engulfed in flames. He took a deep breath, and dove into the wagon, looking around. To his relief, he saw no one in there.   He emerged from the wagon to face down two mean looking orcs. James quickly unhooked his greatsword from his back, staring them down. The orcs may have been a match for James on a normal day. But today, with the fate of his mother and sister in the balance, the orcs stood no chance. In a dazzling display, it was mere seconds before one orc had been impaled on James' blade, while the other found his head separated from the rest of his body.   James continued searching. Three times orcs dared to face him alone. And three times his blade quenched its thirst.   "James!" A frantic female voice off to his right as he felled his fifth orc. He made a mad dash towards the voice to find his mother behind a tree. She had caught a glimpse of him during the struggle, and had called out to him.   "Mother!" He pulled her into a close embrace, then held her at arms length. "Where is Emily?"   "I don't 'know!" Lily sobbed. "I wasn't with her when the attack began."   "Stay here," he said. "I'll go find her."   His mother grabbed him. She was in hysterics, no doubt remembering her flight from the red dragon, and not wishing to lose any more children than she already had.   "Please..." she said in a whimpering voice. "Don't leave me."   James stood still for a moment. He had never seen his mother like this. The usual strong, stoic woman had crumbled. He knew if he left her, he may never find her again.   "Follow me," he said. "We'll get you away from the battle."   He led his mother deeper into the forest, until he was sure she'd be out of harm's way. Despite her pleas once again for him to stay with her, he went back to the scene of the battle.   It was over quickly. By the time James reached the caravan again, the orcs were gone. There were some groans, and he made his way to them, only to find an orc that lay dying. James pulled his blade, prepared to put the orc out of his misery, and then decided against it.   "I'd rather you die slowly," he spat out in anger.   He searched around the caravan, and inside each wagon. But try as he might, he could not find his father or his sister, alive nor dead. He searched as long as he felt he could, constantly reminded of his mother sitting alone in the woods. Eventually, he had no choice but to give up and head back to her.   Once he found her, she had passed out from the exertion and the stress. He picked her up in his arms.   "Let's get you home." He spoke gently to her. But if anyone had been watching, they'd have seen the fire in his eyes. The fire of one who has vowed revenge.
  "Mother, there's no other way," James said to Lilly. She was not thrilled that he planned on heading to sea. Much less thrilled that the name of the ship was Umberlee's Bane. If the rumors were to be believed, at best it was a smuggling ship, and at worst they were outright pirates.   "Please, James. There -has- to be something else," She pleaded with him.   "I've looked for two moons, and have found -nothing-," he said. "The only way we're even surviving is the fish I've managed to catch. Much longer and we'll lose the house!"   James and Lily had made it safely back home. They had enough money to continue paying off their creditors for a while, but that would soon run out, and then the small estate would be forfeit. With the destruction of the entire caravan and the goods, they'd had to pay back the merchants and did not have enough left to buy more wagons. James was stuck with looking for work. He had been unsuccessful so far, until he happened upon the captain of Umberlee's Bane. Seems their cook had gone missing, and they were looking for someone to fill in. James, being only 12, had no experience in cooking, but lied his way well enough to get hired on.   "But you'll be gone for days, perhaps moons!" Lily complained.   James smiled at her as softly as he could. "Yes. But each time I come back, I'll have my wages to give you, so we can keep the house. And as soon as I find an alternative, I'll take it."   They argued long into the night. In the end, the next morning, James boarded the ship and headed out.
  James took to sea life pretty easily. Most of the sailors either liked him, or ignored him. Only one gave him any issues, and he was able to win him over with time. It turns out the crew were actual pirates, though they rarely did any pirating. The ship usually engaged in smuggling illegal goods under the guise of a merchant ship.   Any time the ship was in Waterdeep's port, James would collect his wages and head to the estate to give his mother the money. The first few times he showed back up, she pleaded with him to leave the ship. But she could not deny that the money was good, and was necessary. Eventually the pleas became less, until they died out.
  They were content with their station for about year, until things changed ....
  James mostly enjoyed his time at sea. He didn't like the pirating, but he told himself that he was doing what he had to do in order to get by. He was not thrilled about the smuggling. But he kept himself unaware of the cargo, and told himself that he was just the cook. He did nothing wrong but feed hungry men. What they did was on them. He was able to keep his conscience relatively sated this way, until the day he was forced to confront it.   He had been with the crew for a little over a year when he heard some commotion on the deck. He assumed the crew had seen another target, and as he always did, he did his best to ignore it. However, he heard the words "Run!" coming from the deck, and it sounded like the Captain's voice. He was intrigued, and went above to the deck. He found the captain behind the wheelman, barking orders at the crew.   "What's goin' on Cap'n?" James had taken to talking more like a sailor, though not completely.   "Ain't got time fer ya lad. Not with Deudermont on our tails!" the Captain gave no further explanation. James went to the stern to see a ship following them. He watched for a bit, and even though they were at full sail, the ship seemed to be gaining ground. James had heard the name "Deudermont" before. A legendary pirate hunter out of Waterdeep. They had avoided his gaze for a long time, due to the façade of being a merchant ship.   James wasn't sure quite how to react. He had told himself that he was not guilty of anything, but now all the doubts came flooding back. He went to the kitchen, which doubled as his living quarters, and drew his greatsword. He wasn't quite sure what he'd do if they were boarded. He didn't have long to wait, though. He could hear the sounds of fighting above him, and then feet running around, apparently searching the ship.   When fighters came into the kitchen, they found James on his knees, his hands on his head, with his greatsword on the floor in plain view too far for him to reach.   "I won't resist," James said. The fighters were shocked. Even though James had the proportions a nearly grown man, his countenance and his face showed him to be much younger. That, coupled with the fact he did not resist, made the fighters go easy on him. They clapped him in irons, but they were not rough with him. They stuck him in a cell with the others who had been captured, many wounded from the fighting.   The trip back to Waterdeep was uneventful. James was eventually moved to his own cell, because a couple of the guards realized he was not like these other men, who were hardened criminals. One or two even listened to his story, sympathetic. But there was nothing they could do but turn him over to the law.
  The gavel landed several times for the other sailors before James came up for his turn to be tried. Each time the verdict was the same; and each time the sentence was hanging. James had resigned himself to his fate. He would be hanged, just like the rest of the crew. He had failed. He would die, and his mother would lose the house.   He stepped up to be tried, certain that this would be the end. He scanned the crowd and saw a face he wished he hadn't; his mother's. She was in tears and could barely look him in the eye. When he saw her, he stood up straight. He put on a brave face for her.   "I made my choices. Now I'll live with the consequences," he thought. "... or die with them."   He stood there as the judge read off a list of what he was being tried for. Each accusation was like a knife to the gut. He had tried to put on a brave face, but his countenance sank. Just as the judge was about to render the guilty verdict, a voice from crowd rang out.   "Your honor, if I may speak?" the voice said. James searched the crowd, but he was unable to locate the source of the voice.   'Who dares to interrupt my proceedings?!" the judge nearly yelled. The judge also looked into the crowd and when he saw the person speaking, his countenance changed immediately. "Captain Deudermont. Of course you may say a word."   A man stepped forward. James recognized him as the captain that had sunk their ship.   "Your honor," he began. "I'd like to say a word or two in this boy's defense."   The judge was shocked, but he made a motion for the Captain to continue.   "This young man, while party to the crimes of his shipmates, I believe never committed the crimes himself. Furthermore, the actions he took were not based in greed or malice, but out of love. The young man took the only job he could find so that his mother would not lose her house, after having lost her husband and daughter earlier in the year.   "I am not asking the court to find this young man innocent. But I am asking the court to show some mercy in light of the circumstances."   The judge looked from Deudermont to James. "Young man, is what the captain said true?"   "Yes. Yes, sir." James said.   The judge frowned for a moment, then looked to James. "James Cantor, I hereby find you guilty of all counts. I sentence you to ten years hard labor." He then banged the gavel.   James felt a rush of emotions. He was both happy to have been saved from the noose, but still wondering what would become of his mother. The guards came and escorted him back to his holding cell, where he would wait to be transferred the next morning.
  He had finally dozed off when he heard his cell door open. He looked up, expecting to see the guards coming in to escort him to the prison. Instead of the guards, he saw Captain Deudermont walking in. James stood up, facing Deudermont. Deudermont looked at him for a good while before speaking.   "It's a bad situation, son," Deudermont said. "I wish there was more that I could do, but I helped out as I could."   James looked to the man and nodded. "I appreciate you speaking for me."   "Don't waste the opportunity you've been given. You're young. Focus on surviving the next ten years, and then go out and make something of your life."   James was not sure how to respond to that, so he just simply nodded again. Deudermont studied him for a bit, then pulled something that wrapped in a cloth out of a pack. He set it on James' bunk.   "I found your mother," Deudermont said. "I checked out your story. That's why I spoke for you. She confirmed what you said." He motioned to the package on the bunk. "That's a gift from her. The judge said I could bring it to you. Use it well."   Deudermont then turned on his heels and walked out of the cell, and the guards locked it behind him. James looked at the cloth wrapped package, curious as to what it could be. He opened it up, and it was his mother's lute. James didn't know how to play the lute, but he had ten years ahead of him to learn.
  Prison life was not easy for James. Even with his better-than-average strength, he was still only 13 years old. Hard labor took its toll on his body for a while, and he went to bed exhausted every night for the first several weeks. Eventually the routine worked his body into a shape more able to handle the hard labor.   The guards were not mean to James. But neither were they soft towards him. He had it no harder than any other inmate, but by the same token he did not have it any easier. He received the same treatment as the other prisoners.   James was too tired to even think of picking up the lute for several months. Eventually, it was forgotten about. He worked for several years, just whiling away his time. Prisoners came and went, and he never made any good friends. There were a few escape attempts, but no one ever made it out, and James was never a part of them.   After a few years, James got a new cellmate after his old one had died in an accident. The new guy came in and saw the lute, sitting in a corner collecting dust.
  "That yers, mate?" he asked without even introducing himself.   "Yeah. It was my mother's, but she gave it to me when I got locked in here."   "Noice! Must be pretty amazin' at it with all th' practice ya get here," the man said.   "Not really. I never learned to play it," James replied.   "Well! Yer in luck!" the man exclaimed. "Name's Bartlesby, Bard extraordinaire!" He bowed a fancy bow, sweeping a hand nearly to meet the ground.   James had seen people come and go, some even more flamboyant than this one. He was not impressed.   "James," he said simply.   "Well, James! I c'n teach ya how ta play that thing! Must warn ya though. Never had any -actual- lessons m'self."
  Despite James' initial annoyance with the exaggerated Bartlesby, the two actually became friends. Bartlesby eventually did start teaching James the lute, and James caught on quickly. It wasn't long before the inmates on his cell block were requesting James to play songs during their free time. Even the guards noticed, and while they're behavior towards James did not change, they appreciated his music.   Soon, James became known as the "Piping Pirate". Not a nickname he particularly wanted, but he didn't exactly have much say in it.   Even after Bartlesby had served his relatively short sentence, James continued to practice the lute. It helped the rest of his prison time go by much faster.
  James' prison sentence finally came to a close. After ten long years, he was released. He stepped out into sun as he had many times, but this time he was a free man. Since he had been in for so long, the clothes he was wearing when he went in didn't fit him, so the prison gave him some old clothes from a man who had died. He didn't have a penny to his name, just his clothes, his sword, and his mother's lute.   He didn't wish to part with his mother's lute, so he sold his sword and bought himself some clothes. They weren't the fanciest clothes, but he wanted to look presentable for when he finally saw his mother again. He got changed, slung his lute on his back, and walked out to the estate.   The nostalgia hit him square in the face when he approached. He smiled, seeing the same trees he used to climb as a child. Seeing the same fence that ran around the property. The same house, though it had a different color.   "Mother must have kept it up well while I was gone," he thought.   He strode confidently up to the door and knocked, and the stepped back and straightened his clothes while waiting for an answer. The door opened, and a woman peered out. James' smile dropped immediately when he saw that the woman behind the door was definitely not his mother.   "Can I help you?" the woman asked.   It took James a moment to respond in his confusion. "Um.. yes. I'm looking for Lily Cantor. Is she home?"   "I'm sorry," the woman said. "You must have the wrong house."   "No, I'm sure this is the place," James said, near panic. "I grew up here. My family ran a caravan business out of here. I know those trees. I used to climb them."   "I'm sorry," the woman apologized again. "We bought this house from the bank nearly three years ago. It was empty when we bought it."
  James' world was staggered. His hopes and dreams; everything he had looked forward to in order to get him through prison was gone. He didn't know how to even begin looking for his mother.   He asked the woman at the house what bank they had bought the house from, and then he went to the bank. When he asked about the house, he was told that the house had gone into foreclosure, but that his mother had not been there when it had.
  James needed coin. So he turned to his most legal of skills; he began singing at taverns. He was usually put up for the night, and fed, and he would sing for tips. He stayed in Waterdeep for two years, earning coin and looking for his mother. After two years of searching with no results, he gave up. He assumed she was dead. And with nothing tying him to Waterdeep, he took his act on the road, up and down the Sword Coast.
