Rem’r has three-toed feet (think the show Gargoyles), along with pointy teeth and nails.
Her tail is plain (meaning no spikes or anything) and swishes back and forth when she’s highly emotional (so…. like all the time).
Her favorite food is chocolate-covered coffee beans and she lives off them when trying to meet deadlines.
She tends to stay up all night and only sleep in brief naps during the day, or whenever her body forces her to.
She might have a caffeine addiction…
Her clothing is normal for a ranger type: Linen shirt, pants, no shoes (obviously), bracers, elven armor and cloak, etc [it’ll be color coded to her university’s colors, I just can’t decide what they are yet].
Speaking of her university, they have her on “extended sabbatical” because she comes from a very wealthy and influential family and they’re afraid to fire her.
Speaking of which, also, she’s either loved or hated by her students – loved by the passionate ones who don’t mind listening to a fascinating but rambling lecture which won’t be on the test; hated by the students who can’t stand rambling lectures or trying to follow erratic trains of thought because all they want to do is learn what will be on the test.
All of her written correspondences contain a crap!! ton!! of exclamation points!!!!!
She sometimes hangs stuff from her horns that she needs quick access to, such as a magnifying glass, and sticks writing implements in her hair.
I don’t know what kind of queer she is, but I think she gets flustered around pretty girls.
She hails from Hellas, a land with an environment and culture similar to the ancient Mediterranean. Her parents own a very nice villa there and move in the highest social circles.
Fun fact: fellow party member and pirate extraordinaire, Tarcella the halfling, also grew up in the Hellas area and the two knew each other as children.
Stuff in her pack: lots of half melted candle stubs, charcoal (from Tarcella, cause they’re BFFs), waterproof matches, compass, chocolate covered coffee beans, random crystals and rocks (one of which is from a witch turned to stone by a basilisk named Eli), pencils, quills and ink, a mysterious glass orb, several notepads and loose sheets of paper, like at least 5 books, empty potion bottles, some stuff she’s definitely forgotten about completely, a cursed half-orc fingerbone, a sample of some creepy tree mold, her official university documents, and clothes I guess.
Weapons: Rock hammer, ice pick, silver dagger, longbow
She is very pro-animal, especially those that she feels are wrongly maligned (like basilisks).
She’s a lightweight when it comes to alcohol, but is a very nice drunk
She’s an overachiever with an approval complex
She really wants to be friends with Never [our nonbinary dragonborn [aka my girlfriend] but she has no understanding of introversion and therefore no idea that she’s very loud and very overwhelming.
She recently obtained a Qualls Feather Token, which can turn into a giant bird (specifically a giant budgie) with the obedience of a golem. You can bet she has that bird out like 24/7, not for any reason other than it’s her giant bird friend. Name TBD.
My heart failed a hundred times today – which is to say that your heart failed a hundred times today, and I felt each awful cessation with you. I felt your collapse, too, and the hands that fought desperately to restart the beating. Likewise, I tasted bile in my throat and tears on my lips as you suffered through withdrawal, and felt your feverish skin as I ran my fingers through your tangled hair. By the end of the day I can’t quite tell if my body aches from real pain or your phantom agony. I feel sick, exhausted, but why? Is this even my pain? Does my body even know the difference anymore? I feel everything you feel – so tell me, how many times can my heart break, stop, burst for you before it ceases once and for all?
Life is one long slippery slope. I started at the top, but from the first my stance was shaky. I slid so early so easily and never managed to climb back up more than an inch – and that just to fall again anyway. Drinking to smoking to injecting, kissing to fucking to binding, it’s all downhill. Melancholy to misery to madness. Love to obsession to hatred. I’m not sure I’ll even know when I’ve hit the bottom; will it feel any different than where I am now?
The first time I made him bleed, I thought I would kill myself rather than live with the guilt. But I didn’t, and the second time that guilt weighed a little less on my shoulders. I barely felt it at all the third time; he knew the possibility was there, he could have prevented it had he truly wanted to. My point is, none of those instances felt like rock bottom. Maybe nothing will, until the time I unwrap my hands from his neck and he lays still and silent. I thought love might be the thing with which I’d climb back up that slope, but I was wrong. If anything, it only accelerated my descent.
Why, I ask you, is the summer solstice so much harder to face than winter’s? Awash in red, you shrug and answer with that eternally sad smile of yours, Because we both love him. I expected this answer.I love you, too, I point out, but you shake your head. Not in the same way, and then, before I can respond, Don’t worry, I don’t take it personally. Over the body of your dead lover, I try to meet your eyes, match your smile, and fail. Three’s a crowd.
I don’t have any writing to post today because I’m a terrible writer, so here’s all the cool shit my D&D character Remr, biologist extraordinaire!, has managed to do in just two… rounds? Meetings? Episodes? What do you– whatever. Here you go:
She asked a man wearing a mouth mask, “What’s wrong with your face?” in an attempt to figure out if he was contagious or not. When he was understandably offended, she mistook his reaction for a language barrier and proceeded to talk slowly and loudly and to mime the concept of contagious diseases. Her efforts were not appreciated.
She tried to talk to an owlbear in order to become friends with it so it wouldn’t attack the party. Did not work. Almost died.
She gleefully examined the owlbear’s giant nest full of droppings and owlbear pellets and other gross stuff, for research purposes.
She looted the skeleton of a club-footed child from a sarcophagus, for research purposes.
She traded the child skeleton for a cursed half-orc finger bone, also for research purposes.
She managed to deliver the killing blow to a frost wight after only taking three entire turns just to fire her lightning arrow.
She drank a sample of a mysterious potion while in FantasyCostco and turned temporarily green. She also lost 8 HP.
She took a sample of a mysterious and incredibly dangerous fungus, for research purposes.
She tugged on a horse leg she found under a bush in order to ascertain whether it was attached to anything. It was. The horse leg was attached to a dead horse and she consequently got the party attacked by dire wolves.
She accidentally lead her party into the fae wilds after promising some pixies the party would kill an old lady who is probably definitely a witch.
She has somehow become the charge of the party’s very long-suffering dragonborn bard (my fiance, so maybe it’s not so surprising…), and takes great delight in reminding him that they’re basically family. She makes him be her roomie and stays up all night telling him about her thesis (which has to do with the biological differences between centaurs and mermaids).
Also, she has become BFFs with the halfling pirate in the party and got drunk in a tavern with her and a bunch of sailors, for research purposes.
I know the things you call him when he is too far gone to argue. Angel, when you’re wiping blood from his mouth. Lovely, when you’re lifting his limp body off the bathroom floor. Darling, when you’re holding him until the trembling stops. Baby, when his eyes are bleak and far away and you aren’t sure if you’ll get him back this time. But always, at the end, just Daren. Daren, when you’re trying to wake him. Daren, when your hands are shaking too badly to find a pulse. Daren, when there’s nothing more you can do but weep.