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Jun 13, 2003

there may be people who
find a blender sexy - I
would do well with a more
humanoid model, myself

It is, for anyone keeping track, your eighteenth birthday. At first light the amulet that you have had all your life grows warm, glows, and vibrates to gain your attention. Each of you holds it transfixed. You hear the sounds of a mighty battle and for each of you a different voice calls out:



“Little one, you shall wear down and you shall build anew. You will build and take away. You must perform three great Feats to begin the Ordeal that will open my temple.” You feel for but an instant the withering power of the wastes before it leaves as suddenly as it came. Whatever ground you have just touched will never sustain life again for a few inches(centimeters?) in any direction.


“Yours is the night, your playground the mind itself. When you have completed three Feats you may begin the Ordeal to open my temple and claim your birthright.” You can, for a few moments, withstand the light of the sun, but like a dream the boon begins to fade…


“WHATEVER YOU DO, BE CLEVER ABOUT IT! THREE GREAT FEATS YOU MUST DO, THEN AND ONLY THEN CAN YOUR ORDEAL TO OPEN MY TEMPLE BEGIN!” You begin to see connections between everything, and for a moment you almost understand the whole of Carchar, but the connections soon unravel.


“By tooth, fang, and claw you can claim my power. You must grow through three great Feats to begin the Ordeal to take over Nature itself.” All the wolves of the forest around you for miles(Kilometers) howl, the big cats roar, the snakes hiss, and the birds of prey screech all at once for a moment, then silence for a moment more.

Julius Florus

“By cunning and guile, not brute strength shall you win the day. Make your way in the world and do three whopping Feats to unlock the Ordeal to enter my temple.” For a minute you can see right through the petty untruths those around you might say, then the sense disappears.


“Hunt all over the world, stalking after three grand Feats to prove the way to the Ordeal. The trophy of this hunt is to be hunting incarnate!” Your actions for a short time are precise,and you can see, smell, feel, and hear everything around you with perfect clarity. Then it goes away.

Matthium Vagoni

“Prove your strength and ability in three great Feats to undergo the Ordeal of Competition. Rise as a champion, and earn your birthright! You feel as if you could take on the whole world and force them to compete for your favor, but the feeling fades as the amulet does.


“The attempt failssss. I cannot sssswallow all that issss. You musssst complete the three Trialsss ssso that you can open the way to my temple through the Ordeal. SSS!” You can smell through your tongue and see heat for five minutes.


The entire workshop comes to life, half-finished contraptions springing to life. “By the hammer and anvil will you prevail. I anoint you with oil, to begin you on your quest to perform the three sacred Feats after which you may begin the Ordeal to unlock my temple, my personal forge, and the power of Invention itself!” The machines slowly come to a stop.


A feeling of profound bliss comes over you. “To gain my party house and the power within you gotta sail through three great Feats. I mean amazing, wow those mortals. Then you get to the Ordeal, which is kind of a hassle but it’s how this is set up. Party on!” You begin to feel a slight headache, as if you are mildly hungover.


You feel your features grow monstrous, fur claws and fangs. “Rise monsterling. You must show the men-of-the-cities the might of your monstrosity in three great Feats. Only then can you claw your way through the great Ordeal and claim my temple!” The features recede, but you swear your canine teeth still feel a little larger than before.


You are filled with agony. Mentally, physically, Spiritually. “Suffer through the trials, spreading woe far and wide. Then you may endure the pain of the Ordeal and become Suffring within my temple.


Water pours from your amulet. “You must tread the waters of fate and perform three great feats. Then you may perform the Ordeal that will allow you to swim to the depths of my temple and take on my power.” The ground remains wet even after the water stops flowing.


Your clothes turn to woven gold as you behold the amulet. “Rise to power by any means necessary. Hoard wealth! Perform three great Feats and you shall open the Ordeal. Complete it and you will have earned your entry to my temple.” Your clothes return to their ordinary state. One of your gold rings turns to lead as well.


Bags pack themselves as you hear the voice. “You must go far and wide to perform three great Feats to open the Ordeal. Then the path to the temple shall be open unto you.” Your bags are packed, though you may not have a destination.

“You must know what it means to build, to tear down, and build once more. As the Earth itself can shift, so must you be able to adapt. You must perform three great Feats in order to open the way to my temple through a great Ordeal.” You have a vision of Carchar, every piece of stone, sediment, and massive continental plate all tied together and altered by the force of the great Ley Lines, all flowing toward the great center… The vision does not fade from your memory, though it is commonly known that the ley lines bind the world together.

Okay, I’m going to let you write in your own starting areas and just get a feel for your areas. I will put them on the map based on your descriptions. I feel like letting you invest so much in the areas will make it more interesting when someone inevitably messes with them later. Make sure to quote your app in your first post.

JamezBfod fucked around with this message at Sep 9, 2013 around 20:28


Nov 9, 2011

My first attack must ALWAYS be a charge!

Mercy Dawnters - A Farmhouse in Des'siri

The voice woke her up.

Mercy was used to noises first thing in the morning on a farm. The harvest festival was just done, and her father had told her to have a lie-in after working three days straight with almost no break. She didn't feel like she needed it, but as her mother always said, poppa knows best. She had never been a late riser, but a good amount of rest never hurt anybody. And when the hens outside started their morning routine, she had rolled over in her little feather bed in the attic, dreaming of jumping sheep and a good dance down at the town square the night before.

Ruldolph had been there, a childhood friend from her younger years, no longer the runny nose chicken chasing boy she had grown up with, but now a strapping young lad ready to take over his father's livestock and do his own. The girls down at Beecham's farm had already expressed their 'subtle' interest in him, pretending the early years of teasing that had plagued his life had never happened. He was right to pick them, their family were already known for their child-bearing hips and large litter in a short space of time. Miss Beecham herself had four sisters and three brothers, so you were guaranteed a good selection of runts.

But when they danced together, for that short minute she was in his arms, his eyes had changed, and he had started stuttering - a defect she hadn't heard since they turned fourteen. He looked in her eyes for a moment, and just for that moment, she knew he would marry her if she asked. It made her flutter inside, to be that appriciated, and she had left promptly after, in case what she saw had been in her mind.

It was this very moment that was playing through her dreams when the voice woke her up.


She promptly sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes. A fear that the local meadow was on fire sprang from her, as a light seemed to be coming from the window by her room. Upon rising out of bed, she realised it was not the window that burned, but the amulet she hung over it, so it would blow with the wind to wherever she came from. It pulsated, almost beckoning, and with a sleepy saunter Mercy held it in her hand. The voice returned, somewhat distant, almost drowned out by the sound of shouts behind it.

“You must go far and wide to perform three great Feats to open the Ordeal. Then the path to the temple shall be open unto you.”

The light started to dim, and by the time it faded out Mercy had noticed that by her bed a packed bag awaited. She stood there, eyebrows furrowed, unsure of what she had just witnessed. Something new had happened. Something different was occurring. Since the plague harvest of four years ago she had always known she was more than just a farm girl, but even in her wildest dreams she never thought the former gods would speak to someone like her. Everyone knew that the gods had died all those years ago, but after so long, things just moved on. Now someone, somewhere, had given her a message about them, and if there was anything Mercy believed, it was listening to your elders.

She grabbed the pack, checking its contents. It was better packed than any attempt she could have tried. They even managed to get her favourite trousers in there without creasing it. She smiled, then went downstairs, walking to the well for a quick wash.

She returned from her wash, opening the front door to the home, to find her mother and father waiting for her, the pack now beside them. Her mother's eyes were red from tears, her father, solemn and quiet. For a moment, none of them said nothing, then her father broke the silence.

"We heard the voice."

Mercy nodded, lips shut as always.

"You know you're not our real daughter."

She nodded again. Her father continued.

"We also knew you were too good to be true. You were a beautiful baby when we found you, and you grew up to be a beautiful woman. We had hoped you would grow up with us, watch the farm, get married, have our grand children." He looked away for a second, emotion catching his throat at the thought of kids. "But we also knew that someday, somehow, you would leave us."

He turned to her again. "If whatever called you asked you to open a temple, then it must be the gods of old. And if the gods of old are speaking to you, then you do what they tell you."

He lifted the pack, placing it on the table. "You can go, if you want. Go find your heritage. Follow this 'ordeal' thing. Don't worry about the farm. I'll have Beecham's boys give me a hand for all the times they borrowed you from me. And don't worry about your mother, she will miss you, but she knows you must go."

He walked up to Mercy, passing the pack on. "But if you want, if you ever want to just stop, you can always come back and stay with us. We'll keep your room clean, and even get those flowers from the meadow that you like so much. Just.. just don't forget Des'siri. Don't forget us, alright?" He smiled at her, planting a kiss on her forehead, just as her mother rose to hug her, the tears now flowing. "I will always love you, little Mercy," she said. "Make sure you're home for the next harvest festival, alright?"

The sun had fully risen when Mercy began to walk away from the home, her parents insisting that she eat something before she started on her journey. They stood on the porch, there to wave goodbye as she begun walking over the hill towards the town centre itself. She had not meant to cry, taking her father's view that tears showed a weakness you could not have your loved ones see. But a single tear fell from her eye as she turned back to gaze at her home one last time. She continued her step. walking past the starting marketplace, the general store, the sounds of kids heading to the newly built school so they could learn to read. A few passersby came up to her, patting her on the head and asking where she was headed. She shrugged, smiled, and walked on, and no one batted an eyelid. Mercy was a good girl. She always had a purpose to what she was doing. Today wasn't any different.

Finally, as she left the centre and reached the outskirts, she spotted him. Ruldolph had been told by his father that the Stephanys needed someone to tend to their cows in the morning, now that their eldest son had left to join the military. He stood in the fields, shirt off, already at work so early. She loved that about him, how dutiful he was. Mercy laid down her pack on the side of the road, a wide grin on her face. She hopped the fence, making a mad dash for him when his back was turned. Without a single word, she tapped him on the shoulder, then planted a giant kiss on his lips when he turned to face her. He tasted of oats and strawberries - probably picked by his little sister the night before.

Then, with a smile, she said "See you at the next harvest, snotty," before running back to the road, picking up her pack, and setting on her path to her future.

Action: Let's blow this Popsicle stand. Start walking.

Druggeddwarf posted:

You know what, screw it. Expect an app here tonight.

Mercy Dawnters

A way with animals (+2): Mercy isn't much of a people's person, but give her a good set of sheep to herd and some game to hunt, and she's more comfortable than anything. Cows will be fed, wolves will be driven off, and chickens will pop those eggs like nobody's business.

Sense of direction (+2): It doesn't matter how far she would go, or how long she would take the herd away. She always found her way home no matter what.

A good harvest (+2): When it comes to maintaining the crops, from wheat to tomatoes, the town of Des'siri has no batter farm girl.

A lady of few words (-2): She was not a shy girl - come harvest season she would cut a rug with the best of them at the festival prelude. Nor was she a simple girl - it took a sage form of wisdom to help run such a big farm all by yourself. She just chooses not to speak much, finding it easier just to listen. It can give a rather wrong impression to some people, but Mercy always means well.

Describe your adoptive family

Maria and Malachi Dawnters had done their best to maintain the farm long before Mercy had arrived. They had grown up together, and being childhood sweethearts from their youth, had taken the natural course of every couple in the town of Des'siri to move to a new plot of land to begin their trade. Business went well to them for a while, but after twenty years of trying for a son, they soon gave up hope of becoming a real family. Until that fateful night, when Maria opened the door to find a little baby girl on her doorstep. It had been quite a while since anyone had heard of the gods, but they thanked them just the same. Since then they have done their best to teach little ol' Mercy the way of the land, and by the time she turned 12, she was already able to keep up with the both of them. Now, Maria goes to the market to sell their wares and cook for them, while Malachi tends to the maintaining of the farm, leaving Mercy to do all of the hard work. It's a good life for all three, and they enjoy it very much.

Juana - God of Pilgrims
Travel (+2)

Juana was a simple man, a man that wished to praise the gods with all his heart. Giving up his former life and earthly pleasures, he set out on a pilgrimage to pay homage to each and every single temple constructed in the name of the lord. He traveled far and wide through the land of Carchar, over oceans and under mountains, and spent a year in each temple praying the the benevolence of the gods to all mankind. It is said that he traveled for 200 years, finally reaching the foot of the citadel, content to only gaze upon it before his death. As he turned to leave, it is said the gods themselves came down, offering to take him inside to join them, as one who guides others like him. He accepted, and from then on Juana wandered the roads of the world, guiding souls seeking enlightenment from the gods to the right path. He would be seen as a fellow pilgrim, walking along the roads, showing people the safe ways to travel.

The great moment
Four years ago, the Des'siri saw the worst harvest it had ever gone through. A combination of parasites, drought, and disease saw all of the farmland around the town reduced to nothing. The harvest festival was quickly cancelled, and people were sent to neighbouring lands for extra stock for the winter. But of all the farms, only one managed to fend off all these disasters with what seemed to be relative ease - the Dawnsters. Although when questioned neither Maria nor Malachi will outright say it, they fully begun to believe that their twelve year old adopted daughter was something of a miracle. Since then, Mercy has been asked to 'help' out around the farms nearby when they seem to be in dire straits. She doesn't mind - she grew up with these people after all - but she does get homesick quite easily.

What do you want in this game
Tell you the truth Jamey boy.. I have no idea. I suppose I will start playing and see what happens. Give me whatever you want. I'm cool with it.

Feb 1, 2006

Haal - The Wilds of Garvat

The voice woke him up.

Well, falling to the ground after the bough of the tree he was sleeping on broke apart was what woke him up, but the voice helped.

He held his amulet as the voice spoke, transfixed. He'd thought it odd, slightly troubling, but when you're magic such things are little easier to grasp. The sound of titanic battle troubled him, though. He probed the amulet of the broken-once circle again with his preternatural senses; it continued to vex him, as it always had, in spite of the earlier warmth and voice.

He'd thrown the thing away once when he was in agony over his origins, his abandonment. He'd thrown it in Lake Brel, and spent the next six hours retrieving it.

As the light of dawn grew brighter on his contemplation he was able to see that where he'd fallen on the grass was an outline of him in ash, the tree itself swiftly dying. He kicked the trunk, and the leaves all fell as one to carpet the ground. Though the grass he now stood on was alive he quickly paced out some expletives in the ground, followed by a large crude image of a male member as if to punctuate the piece. Just in case a mote of whatever that power was remained.

He wondered what the feats could be, what that could mean. He couldn't tell any of the travelers what he'd heard, for all their journeys they were dull as riverstone and twice as dense. Besides, they'd grown wise to his fanciful stories. The wisest one he knew was Gran Magaly with her traveler folklore and wild knowledge and aptitude with curses, but the tasks would end up being mundane chores relating to goats where he to ask her. No, to prove he was serious to her he'd need to learn just what this symbol of the once-broken circle on his amulet meant, Magaly hadn't a clue, and he'd been meaning to find out for minutes now. No, he'd head to Gloamtown, the closest village to Haal and the traveler camp. He did not relish the idea, he'd heard the people were boorish and squat (comes from living in a region named for a shade of brown) but they'd have records and people to read them, as such fixed places did. Of greater concern was the grumbling of his belly. His pickings were exhausted, and he traveled light. Fortunate that food in towns had a way of finding itself in his belly.

Just look at this place. So boring! No time for adventures here.

Action: Seeking out a library and somebody who can read in boring Gloamtown, in the dull region of Garvat.

Hamshot posted:


+2 Trickster
It takes a lot to perform the perfect prank. A knowledge of the psyche, an understanding of the absurd, a keen sense of timing, and the cunning required to work with the situation and materials at hand to combine them all together and convince the butcher he's allergic to meat. The ability to make the meat actively sneeze at the butcher only enhanced the japery.

+4 Magic!
He was often told that Arcana smiles upon him. Bereft of any formal training, by only his natural ability and brute will he became a fantastic magical mage, in spite of having never set foot in any sort of building dedicated to Arcana.

-2 Judgmental
He's got opinions. He finds much to disapprove of, and does his best to alter things to his liking. Though not inherently cruel - in fact, he is quite cheerful - his magical pranks by which he shows his disapproval often seem that way. He finds it very difficult not to meddle in affairs; the most powerful being or utopian society will still hold something that irritates him.

Adoptive family

Adopted by a family of travelers, he would have perished as a babe were it not for their roaming, having found him in a most isolated part of Carchar. They reminded him of this constantly, holding him to higher standards than their blood kin. This imparted within him a keen sense of resentment. It simply wasn't fair.

Rather than a defined mother and father he was adopted by the whole tribe, though the one that seemed to least resent his presence was the Matriarch, Gran Magaly, who adored all children and held a streak of mischief, finding much jubilation in his tricks.

Preter, God of the Wastes

Symbol: A circle, broken at any point.

+2 Desolation

He remains stoically at the center of the great wastes of Carchar. It was his task to ensure the Old and Impotent were rendered down to their base, and he would release an equal portion of his domain for the New and Dynamic to conquer. A force of change and renewal, contradicting the unchanging nature of he and his realm. Thus despite his terrible nature, other gods seldom had reason for wrath against him, the Wastes never growing nor shrinking, remaining constant yet in flux. Such was his impartial nature that other gods, and rarely the mortals stout enough to reach the center of his wastes, would petition for his opinion and support in matters where they believed they were in the right. It was a great risk done only when the petitioner was absolutely certain, for were he to judge them wrong...

Childhood experience:

Llaiev was sent to gather the goats. Haal hated Llaiev. He'd rarely been sent to gather the goats, but thanks to an earlier meddling of Haal he'd earned the displeasure of the wagon master, but that wasn't enough for Haal. Nothing spooks the goats more than the yapping of wild dogs, and Haal was quite adept at it, which Llaiev knew all too well.

Sure enough, as he'd just about tied them all, the yapping began. The physically larger Llaiev immediately bull rushed at the sound, intending to knock the wind out of the impertinent little twerp that got him this ignominious task more suited for woman, only to collide with the much physically larger wagon master. Who yapped at him.

It gave Haal pause. He'd only intended to throw his voice in the direction of the approaching master. He didn't realize he'd made the man yap forever. The power was frightening, yet exhilarating, justified. Nobody had liked the ol' yapper, and now he would never lead a wagon again. Magaly thought it was hilarious. The rest were simply terrified, and Haal found himself an outcast in all but spoken word as all others eschewed his presence. He'd taken to roaming far from the group, further each time, practicing his power away from fearful eyes but at the same time feeling ever more isolated than before. It took some time, and some thinking, until he know he was justified in what had happened, that it was in fact hilarious the cruel old man could only yap and had not yet learned his lesson. Why should he change him back?

What is your intended playstyle/What would do you expect from playing this game?

To have a comedic and fun story with an undercurrent of something darker. Starting off lighthearted and arrogant, developing the character to hold the weight of responsibility of his power through hard-learned lessons. And, with luck, to actually reclaim godlike powers in a smallgods game. They don't seem to last long enough most times.

Hamshot fucked around with this message at Sep 7, 2013 around 14:31

Jan 30, 2009


Anatol - Coastal Town of Corfu

Anatol was in his bed thinking what he was going to do for his own anniversary party. So many things to do! Finding a foreigner cook to try out new delicacies, trying to convince the newly arrival musician to play for him, and of course, selecting what to drink to serve to his friends (and himself). Out of nowhere his medallion starts growing a purple light and vibrating. "Oh what the...?" He gets up from his bed startled and holds the thing in his hand. "Hey this feels pretty goo-WOAH!!" His body is suddenly overloaded with wonderful sensations of pleasure and ecstasy.

"CHILD!" whatever yelled. This voice was somehow louder than his dad so Anatol knew it wasn't him, he looks around the room confused. Was he hearing voices already? He hadn't used his special funny blue mushrooms yet today!

“To gain my party house and the power within you gotta sail through three great Feats. I mean amazing, wow those mortals. Then you get to the Ordeal, which is kind of a hassle but it’s how this is set up. Party on!” The voice then silences and the medallion stops vibrating. The hangover that comes is barely noticed, being so used to it. Anatol catches his breath before hurrying downstairs to the tavern itself. It was empty, dad had closed it for today. The only people in this room are his whole family in a table, they all turn to look at him with an anxious look in their eyes. "Did you hear that? I mean this medallion starts shaking and then-"

"Anatol we heard it, sit here" Said his dad with a serious, almost sad look in his face. Something was going to happen today, he could feel. The kid obeys and pulls a chair for himself. "Anatol... you're not our real son."

The party-boy sighs with relief. "Oh man thank goodness, if I knew I would turn ugly like you-"

"Silence you worthless lazy boy! The day we found you in our doorstep we knew there was something special about you, and I guess today is the day."

Mother starts crying "Ohhh my baby is going away..." she sobs.

"Wait wait wait, the voice only said that I need to sail away, I won't be away from here FOREVER, mother!" says Anatol, trying to console her. "Be happy, I mean, the voice asked me to party on! It will be just like always! I have no idea how to accomplish one of these feats, whoever. Also there's the question of sail away, I mean where am I going to find a boa-" He stops mid-sentence, as if realizing something obvious. "Of course! Dad, give me all the rum you have, the good ones!"

"Today of all days you're going to start drinking already!?" Dad says, incredulous.

"Yes! I mean no! This isn't for me! Just do it!" Anatol says while standing up and heading outside to organize his thoughts. The day was windy but pleasant with open skies, he starts taking a walk in his home town. Corfu was a medium sized town with a small port, pretty much all the buildings in the city were white, Anatol didn't know if it was customs or an actual law, but he didn't care much.

He gazes to the vast sea and thinks how in the hells he was going to perform these great feats, like, he was a hero or something? He probably had to throw some insanely good parties, I mean it was the only thing in life he was good at. Anatol just shrugs "Ehhh I'll think about that later. Guess I'm also not having that party today, but my next one will be glorious!"

Heading back to the tavern he finds his foster family outside with a backpack and a crate full of bottles of rum, just like he asked. He smiles when he opens his backpack and finds a couple of good wines there too. His family really loved him. After a heartfelt goodbye, Anatol heads to the port and tried to find any ship that would take him to... anywhere really, in exchange for his bottles of rum and pleasant company.

set sail for.. something! Corfu is kinda like this

frajaq posted:


(Charming) +2 Having being the host of many, many parties through the land, even with different social classes, Anatol knows much of the human nature, and how to please the varying personalities of humans. His good appearance doesn't hurt either!

(Drinking) +2 Anatol's fortitude for drinking is impressive, be it wine, mead or beer. Having drank so much in his life he's a true connoisseur of alcohol.

(Heightened Senses) +2 To truly enjoy all things, Anatol's senses are extremely sharp, be it touch to notice the finer details of a well-crafted blade, smell and taste for truly good food and drinks, vision to notice the facial expression of an excellent actor, and hearing for the subtle differences between good and bad melodies.

(Shrooms!) +2

(Foolhardy) -2 Since Anatol's focus in life is only the happy, enjoyable moments, he doesn't have much experience or self-control in more serious and dangerous environments, being unwisely bold in delicate situations.

Anatol's family owned a fairly popular tavern in the coastal town he lived. Anatol's foster father was a stern man who took his job very seriously, serving as the barman and innkeeper at the same time, not afraid to crack some skulls when some drunken costumers started getting unruly. His mother was the cook and cleaner, a kind but sometimes over-protective woman. His sister sometimes worked as barmaid when necessary, a task she hated much.

Name of god: Eleutherios
Hedonism/Pleasure Domain(+2 Divine Rank)
Symbol: A gold cup full of wine
General Nature: A god dedicated to the many pleasures of the world, be with good drinks and food, parties and orgies, listening to good music or watching a good theater play. Eleutherios is always drunk, happy and singing. He offers his followers a chance to escape from the hardships of the world, as long as they also spread this enjoyment to others.

The turning moment for Anatol was when a famous pirate captain of the seas docked in his town, threatening to sack and burn it, but first, the pirate and his crew stopped by the huge tavern to grab a bite before starting the whole pillaging thing. Anatol, not wanting to see his family hurt or home destroyed, asked the pirate for a drinking competition. If Anatol won the pirate would leave the town, if he lost he could do whatever he wanted. The pirate almost rolled on the floor laughing at what the seventeen year old boy was saying, but since he was in good humor AND confident in his abilities, he accepted.

Both the town citizens and the pirate crew could not believe what followed, Anatol was easily keeping up with the experienced captain, as glass of beer after glass of beer kept being sent to them. At the 95th glass, the captain collapsed on the floor, completely passed out. Anatol climbed the table and gave a victorious belch. To show that there were no hostilities, the boy asked his foster father to open up all the barrels and throw a party for the rest of the pirates. The entire town and the crew partied, singed, drank and danced together in the streets, lasting all the way to morning!

After waking up with a massive hangover, the captain smiled at Anatol, praised him, gathered his crew and peacefully sailed away. After that day the boy realized that perhaps even his so called "useless" skills as a party animal could be put to good use, improving the life of others!

What is your intended playstyle/What would do you expect from playing this game?
Being that this is my first time playing this system? gently caress If I know, it looks simple and fun. If the game is intended to be TOO serious perhaps I'll not be a good fit I never done a narrative game before so this might be interesting anyway.

frajaq fucked around with this message at Oct 16, 2013 around 03:32

Oct 28, 2007

Damon Warren - The City of Carcosa

Damon had been napping in his chair, feet propped upon his worktable when the voice spoke to him. The sudden proclamation startled the young artificer, causing him to exclaim, "Aagh, gently caress!" as he tumbled backwards onto the floor. The rest of the pronouncement was made while he remained in a confused, and prone, state. "What? What Feats? Hello?! Is anyo-ah, godsdammit."

Once he had picked himself and his chair back up, he sat back down to rub his head and ponder the voice's unusual words. Feats? Ordeal? None of these words meant anything to him. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He would need to leave the workshop. Damon stood, grabbing his coat and his pocketwatch (the amulet) as he stepped out the door.

Ah, the city. Properly, its name was Carcosa. But hardly anyone bothered to name it in casual conversation. It was merely "the City". The City sat at the mouth of the River Ryll, an important hub of commerce and sea trade. Unfortunately, the city was also corrupt nearly to the core. As one might expect, crime was rampant, and a man could get away with much if he knew the right people, or had enough money to bribe the right people. Unfortunately, the common man is not so lucky.

Damon will go speak to whatever remains of the local priesthood as well as whatever passes for a library around here. Or any other repository of knowledge.


Name: Damon Warren
- Artificer (+4); A true savant when it comes to inventing and crafting strange, complicated devices. He has an intuitive grasp of things mechanical.
- Alchemist (+2); So often when one is on the cutting edge of progress, new materials must be made from scratch to satisfy the needs of the machine.
- Near-Sighted (-2); Due to a childhood accident, Damon has poor eyesight. Beyond a few feet, the world is a blur.

Describe your adoptive family:
Jacob and Elizabeth Warren are simple farmers. They already had four children when Damon showed up on their doorstep, and figured that they might as well taken him in. Another hand to help with the harvest would always be appreciated. Jacob performs most of the planting, plowing, and general handiwork around the farm. Elizabeth is a homemaker; cooking, cleaning, and taking care of the family in general. John, the eldest son, follows in his father's footsteps and will inherit the farm itself when Jacob passes on. Bethany and Valerie are twin sisters, and they too take after their father. Both of them are often found helping either Jacob or John with general farmwork and eschew mundane chores such as cooking or tidying up the house. Robert, the youngest natural son, takes after his mother and prefers to spend his day helping her with the daily workload.

Describe the god whose symbol appears on your amulet:

Name of god: Karr; The Smith, The Forger, The Tinker
Domain: Machinery and Invention
General Nature: Karr was the deity of inventors, smiths, and all those who worked daily with mechanical things. Acting primarily as a muse, he served as inspiration for great works and technological advancement. Progress for the sake of progress. His blessing was also often sought in order to keep machines in good repair and prevent malfunctions.

When you were growing up you had a moment when you realized you were different than the other children. Either better skilled, physically different, or possessed of far greater natural ability. What was this experience like? How did it affect you?
Unlike his siblings, Damon had no love or aptitude for farmwork, and indeed, he was quite terrible at it. Likewise, Damon had no patience for cooking, cleaning, and other household chores. Instead, Damon preferred to play in his father's workshop, tinkering with all the myriad tools. Disassembling them, reassembling them, they called to him in a way he could not describe. In an effort to remain helpful, he spent his youth repairing and improving the various tools so often needed in life on a farm. He had always known he was gifted, but it wasn't until he turned sixteen that he realized the depth of his gift. It had been late at night, and Damon was working on some project in the workshop. The details are still fuzzy to him, but something must have gone wrong. A bright flash of light accompanied an explosion that obliterated the workshop. Miraculously, Damon was mostly unharmed, save for blurred vision and a superficial head injury. His mother was terrified for him. His father was angry; he had never understood the boy's incessant need to tinker, and this was just the sort of trouble he was asking for! Damon angrily disagreed, and the two held a small shouting match that ended in both sides becoming fed up with the other, much to Elizabeth's lament. Damon realized that he was meant for more than merely being a farmer's son, accident or no accident. He was destined for bigger things. Greater things. His life was wasted here! Once his wound was on the mend, he packed his bags, and after a tearful farewell (on his mother's part) to his family, went off to the city. Where better to realize his vision?

What is your intended playstyle/What would do you expect from playing this game?
It doesn't quite come across above, but Damon is an arrogant jerk who is going to drag the common man, kicking and screaming, into the future. Whether they like it or not. But otherwise, I intend to allow events to carry me where they will. Might be I never manage to make it happen and something else sweeps me up instead. We'll find out.

Rhjamiz fucked around with this message at Sep 9, 2013 around 02:50

Feb 4, 2008
I like bread

Pochoclo posted:


+6 Merman: Otorbo has become a true creature of the depths - water is his home (-2 to land actions wherever it makes sense).
+2 Iron Will: Otorbo has been in some tough spots, and he has always, to the surprise of those around him, kept his steadfast resolve, even in the face of death. His force of will is something to be reckoned with.
-2 Bull-headed: Otorbo's strong will is also his weakness. Sometimes he holds onto his own ideas and opinions, and refuses to let them go, even when proven wrong beyond doubt.

Describe your adoptive family:
The Kwame Clan are a small tribe of about a hundred people. They live in a small sunny island, one of many. The Clan is not structured around families - there are a few large houses in the village, and every Kwame belongs to one of them. The men of the house go out to fish, usually taking a child from the house as apprentice, while the women produce the tools and take care of the smaller children. Every house is led by a wise woman, and the Kwame are led as a clan by them all in council.
Otorbo belongs to House Brogo. As a child, he fondly remembers the care provided by Sila, a kindly old woman with a talent for woodcarving, while his teenage years were spent mostly under the care of Teco, a superb fisherman who taught Otorbo everything he knew about the trade.

Describe the god whose symbol appears on your amulet:

Name of god:
Unkhor, the Deep One, Father of Waves
+2 Water:
The sea, the rivers, the wells and the rain - water is the source of all life.
General Nature: Unkhor is the god of water, the god of the unfathomable depths. A mysterious and somewhat distant god, sailors and fishermen usually sacrificed in his name to earn his favor, to stay on his good side - the water that is life-giving, that nurtures and cools down the heat of summer. Everyone fears the dark side of water - typhoons, tidal waves, drowning fishermen

When you were growing up you had a moment when you realized you were different than the other children. Either better skilled, physically different, or possesed of far greater natural ability. What was this experience like? How did it affect you?

When he was seven years old, the boat on which Otorbo and his mentor were sailing encountered a storm, capsized and sank. The skies were raging, and the waves were rolling, threatening to drown them both. His mentor could barely stay afloat, and hopes were grim. Then Otorbo simply refused to die, grabbed his mentor by the collar, and started swimming to shore. It took a little less than an hour of swimming, but he made it. Everyone has since regarded Otorbo with a measure of respect - both for his skills, and for his humanity.

What is your intended playstyle/What would do you expect from playing this game?
I usually play builders and lead-from-the-back characters. I'm thinking this character can be a more physical and hands-on guy. I hope to interact with other players and have fun.

Otorbo, Kwame Clan, Manuan Archipelago

The Manuan Archipelago was a natural paradise at first sight - sunny beaches, lush jungle, and a plentiful ocean. However, not all was perfect. The islands were inhabited by many clans, all of them constantly quarreling and making up, in a cyclical fashion as dictated by whether they could spend time posturing, or were worried about survival. Skirmishes were frequent, but were often just excuses to make off with the losing side's fish haul, usually happening at sea, or as covert raids in the night. Deaths in this everlasting conflict were rare - usually the product of accidents, or fierce grudges. All in all, it was a good place to live in, as long as you didn't mind eating fish and fruit for the rest of your life.

Otorbo was basking in the light of the setting sun, gazing into the ocean, as he heard the disembodied voice make its speech, water coming out of his amulet. He fell on his behind in surprise, and would have sprinted to the ocean, were it not for the sheer shock of it all. When it was over, he spent a few minutes breathing hard, clutching sand in his hands. He couldn't make an ounce of sense out of it. He knew the symbol he wore around his neck was that of Unkhor, but was that related? Had it been a sorcerous trick played by someone from a rival clan? Otorbo didn't know. But he knew who to ask. He went to fetch Sila, the woman who had most often cared for him in his childhood, and asked her to bring him to the wise woman of House Brogo.

The wise woman wore a large headdress adorned with intricately carven and painted bone flutes. She filled a shallow bowl with water, and contemplated the ripples for a long time before speaking. "I can say with certainty that none of those versed in the ways of sorcery in Manua are capable of what you describe. And none would dare mock the voice of the Deep One. No, I had a feeling this time would come, ever since you were delivered to our doorstep. We took you in as one of our own, and you are a child of our house, yes." She frowned, then sighed. "But it would seem you are destined to things greater than the life of a Kwame fisherman, and I'm afraid I am wise in the matters of men, but not in matters of gods and mysteries."
Sila hugged Otorbo silently, and kissed his head motherly. She gently dropped a large package wrapped in palm leaves on his lap. "If you're going to make a trip, you're going to need something to eat", she whispered with a smile. "A trip", said the wise woman in response, "you should visit Katarka, the sea-witch, alone in her island amid the storms. She is, perhaps, the only person in Manua who knows enough about the gods to give you advice. It will be a hard trip, but I fear it won't be the last of those for you."

The next day, Otorbo had a boat and supplies. His whole House had gathered to send him off. Teco put a rugged hand on his shoulder. "Look at you, all grown up. Be careful out there. And come back. We'll be waiting with a freshly roasted fish."
Otorbo hugged the man closest to a father he ever had, and got on the boat. He set sail to the place the locals called "the maelstrom", the stormiest, harshest spot to row through. A woman named Katarka lived there, who was rumored to be a sea-witch, making the seas around her stormy so no one would come visit her, and who, according to the wise women, knew much about the gods.

Braving the Maelstrom, visiting the sea-witch Katarka, the local mystery witch figure who should know more about the gods.

+2 Fisherman: expertise rowing a fishing boat
+2 Iron Will: braving the storm with resolution, no matter what happens
+2 Swimmer: being able to get off the boat safely in case of disaster, dropping off and dragging it by hand overturned and so

Pochoclo fucked around with this message at Oct 12, 2013 around 05:33

Jan 3, 2012

When the light turns green, you go. When the light turns red, you stop. But what do you do when the light turns blue with orange and lavender spots?

Droumis - City of Belthas

He looked down upon the world, seemingly floating above it at a great height. Droumis could see hundreds of thousands of little sparks of light, a plethora of colors, spread across the land. Some were interwoven with others, connecting some ones close together or of the same hue. "Dreams, these must all be people dreaming in the world!!," he exclaimed. But how could he know that, he had never seen anything like this before.

Suddenly, Droumis saw a light separating itself from the land. It was a much larger light than the others, and very darkly colored, almost as if it was absorbing the light of those around it. It was coming from the East of the city, near the base of the tallest mountain he could see. The globe of light rapidly sped up, until it finally reached him suspended over the world. Tentatively he reached out his hand to it, when a smoke-like cloud of darkness issued from the glob and enveloped him.

He was simultaneously nothing and everything. An infinite space of nothingness surrounded him. And he heard the voice "My child!" Droumis started to thrash in the nether, frightened for a second of this magnified voice, but was quickly overcome with the calmest sensation. "Your world is the night, your playground the mind itself. When you have completed three Feats you may begin the Ordeal to open my temple and claim your birthright. I will be with you always, you only need to dream to find me."

With a flash, Droumis awoke to the brightest light he had ever experienced in his life. Instinctively, he covered his face with his arms and prepared to feel the burn. But it did not come. He slowly lowered his arms and looked into the light cautiously, seeing that it was coming from his amulet. The light slowly began to retract, and he felt pulled from his bed to the wall which the amulet was hanging upon. As the light was completely sucked back into the amulet, he realized its symbol had been wiped clean. In its place, stood three empty rings surrounding a mountain. Knowing that must be find the mountain he saw in his dream, he summoned on of the Sunlight Servants and instructed him to find a map to the land of the East. And to another Sunlight Servant, he gave instructions to begin packing and ready to move. "We are moving up in the world," Droumis said as they went to do their work.

Action: Droumis tells the servants to find a map of the East and to also prepare the base and SS (oh god Sunlight Servants is the SS) for departure (+2 to find a great map and get everything packed efficiently).

goodness posted:

Name: Droumis

Bending of Will +4 - Raised in the poverty-stricken streets of Belthas, it was either take advantage or be taken advantage of. From an early age, Droumis noticed he had an unnatural influence over his adoptive family and those around. There was not much he could not get away with once the words started flowing from his silver tongue. It was almost as if he could be what they wanted to see, what they dreamed of.

Like A Ghost +2 - Confined to activities of the night, Droumis quickly learned how to move through the city without a trace. Appearing and disappearing as if he was a cloud of mist, he came to be known as the Ghost to his companions, and the Nightmare of Belthas to his enemies.

Sunlight Servants +2 - Due to his inability to be active during the day, Droumis smartly gathered a group of followers that could act as extensions of his will during the daylight hours. Loyal beyond a doubt, due to his manipulation and what he has given them, they carry out many legitimate activities for him. And if something a little more sinister needs doing, they are always available for some mischief.

Rays of Enfeeblement -2 - Ever since the night his family found him, Droumis has suffered a sensitivity to light unlike anything any doctors have seen. Simply being exposed causes him great discomfort, and diminishes his abilities. He does walk during the day rarely, but he must be heavily covered in garments. This sickness led to his affinity with the night and all it's denizens and going ons.

Adoptive Family:
Looking back, the arrival of baby Droumis on that fateful night brought the Lanthan family into ruin. After generations of poverty, they were simply not able to handle another mouth to feed, especially one as "special" as Droumis. Racked by her conscious, and the peculiar draw of the baby's cries, the mother reluctantly raised the baby through his younger years. She was able to make ends meet, mostly from the gifts of others for the baby. For some reason, anyone that saw him in need would help out if they could. But after 6 long years she just could not afford to raise him anymore. She gave him unto the streets, the mistake which eventually cost her and her family everything. After struggling to survive, struggling to live just another day, Droumis' anger at her abandonment would just not go away. And so he dreamt, night after night, of her destruction. Her life began spiraling out of control, losing her possessions, her house, her means of living. Until one day she simply disappeared, and Droumis' dreams about her stopped.

Name - Herradraumur
Symbol - A simple side profile of a head with the top exposed, and a cloud like brain in its place.
Domain - Dreams
General Nature - Oft away from the world in his own dream plane, Herradraumur did not often meddle in mortal affairs. When he did visit the mortal plane, he generally floated among the dreams and enjoyed the creative and often surprising things the mortals minds came up with. He even sometimes blessed certain people with the actual creations of their dreams, if they were especially entertaining to him. However he also gained power from the fear nightmares created, and would create monstrous apparitions on any being who disturbed the natural slumber of his followers. His presence alone in the world created all the dreams and nightmares that inhabited people's nights. And on that faithful day when the gods left the world, the dreams were gone with him. Only his followers really noticed the lack of them, as most people forget when they wake up, but the general mood of the world was lowered. It just so happens that 18 years ago, the dreams slowly began returning.

Childhood Experience: When he was thrown out into the streets by his mother, Droumis barely survived the first months. It was during this time that he realized that he was different than the other street children, different than possibly everyone. Even with just a simple grasp of speaking, Droumis was able to convince anyone to supply him what he needed to help him survived. The certainty of his difference came on a day when slavers from another country had kidnapped him and fellow orphans to sell back in the East. He pleaded with them, tried reasoning with them to leave him be. And though he did not know the language, the slavers somehow understood him and were persuaded to let him go. They even gave him their gold and minor possessions, and after the event were completely perplexed as to why the did anything for just another street rat.

Playstyle: I started my first pdq game in December, but was unable to do it more than a couple weeks due to going to jail these past 7 months. So this is basically my first game, and I am ready to put some effort into it. I am definitely going to be up to some mischief with my character, though I do not want to mess up anyone's game too early into this!

goodness fucked around with this message at Oct 29, 2013 around 02:22

Jan 20, 2010

Vitellius Ousanas
My adoptive father threw a fantastic coming of age party for me. The whole district was invited, as they are for all parties. Because he is a wealthy man as we reckon such things, two whole cows and a fatted calf were butchered and spitted for the feast. As a signal honor, and in recognition of my way with animals, I myself wielded the knife that sent the sacrifices to the gods. After the blood drained we wrapped the choicest bits in fatty bacon and threw them on the fire, so that the sweet scent could rise to the old gods in their hall high hall.

There was much drinking, and eating of meat, and rejoicing. As the moon rode high in the sky a mighty voice boomed forth from the amulet about my neck. “By tooth, fang, and claw you can claim my power. You must grow through three great Feats to begin the Ordeal to take over Nature itself.” All the wolves of the forest around you for miles(Kilometers) howl, the big cats roar, the snakes hiss, and the birds of prey screech all at once for a moment.

Afterwards, all was silent; even the guests were awed. Or maybe terrified, especially the weaker-kneed villagers. As for myself, my jaw fell open in a hungry, lupine grin and for a moment a felt the whole world laid out before me. "Do not fear my friends and neighbors! This is a great night! We have been blessed by the voice of the old gods who made us strong. Through them, we can be strong again and never will the citydwellers dare to oppress us when the old gods have fully returned. But for now, rejoice, in the turning of the seasons and the growth of a new generation!" Slowly the music started up again and people returned to their partying. Some did, others, trying to hide their fear, drifted away. Discretely fleeing back to their wagons, there to cower until the sun rose enough to light their path home. Not all would be eager to follow the old gods once more. Not after they have been gone so long now. Especially not if they were preceded by the sounds of violent combat.

The next morning I rose at the crack of dawn to be about the Gods work, and saw my father waiting for me at the edge of the forest. He had his sword with him. The honest steel blade that had kept him safe through his service in the legions and that he had brought home with him. He wanted me to take it, but I could only smile and decline: "You heard the voice father. By tooth, fang, and claw was the commandment. I can wield no weapon of steel." He saw he could not change my mind, and he must have anticipated my response, because he offered me something better. His old leather lorica. He must have spent weeks resizing it to fit me.

The lorica had been used in one form or another by the soldiers of Raetia as they spread ever outwards. The overlapping strips of leather provided reasonable protection against most blows and stopped all but the hardest of arrows from penetrating. It was also light, easy to maintain, repair, and in the open formation favored by Raetian legions, allowed individual soldiers to take advantage of their mobility to easily support each other without hampering the man beside them. With my father's help, I donned the armor then slipped into the forest. My father lives on the most distant and wildest frontier of Raetia's territory and the forest here, is deep, dark, and full of savages. Both animal and man.

Despite that, the forest is like a second home to me, and the animals in it, a second family. Within minutes, a pair of wolves had joined me in my hunt. The gods had commanded that I triumph by tooth, fang, and claw, and obedient to their word, I was hunting for a Grizzly. It's claws, capable of slicing through inches of green living trees to mark its territory would make an excellent start to my divinely mandated armory.

Hunting a grizzly bear with my bare hands!
Hunter +4, Beastmaster +2 (barehanded, but with 2 wolves), and Luddite -2 (bare handed)
I'm going to make weapons out of its claws if I survive, but that should probably be a separate action.

LLSix posted:

Vitellius Ousanas

Hunter +4: Certainly one of the best 5 hunters in the world, if not the best. If you can hunt with it, Vitellius is a master of it, bow, spear, or rope. He can track a sparrow on a cloudy day.

Beastmaster +2: Vitellius can communicate with animals and most acknowledge his dominion over them. He usually has one or two animals with him to help in his tasks. In addition to his longtime companion and keen right eye, Lady the hawk.

Archaeo-Luddite -2: Vitellius is a simple man who lives close to the land. He doesn't cotton to new fangled inventions like the lever or wheels. He's uncertain about accepting fire, even though it does make food taste so much better.

Playstyle: Antagonist. I've been wanting to play a bad guy for a couple of god games now. I intend to hunt down as many other players as I can and introduce some conflict into their lives. Interspersed with humorously poking fun at technophobia.

Vitellius was discovered by a humble free holding farmer, Agriculus. Agriculus woke before the crack of dawn and on stepping outside his door saw something he's never been able to describe disappearing back into the woods he cut his farm from. Like most of the freeholders in the country of Raetia Agriculus was a full citizen. However, Raetia has recently been undergoing a wave of centralization and throughout Vitellius youth the freeholders have been increasingly hemmed in by oppressive laws passed by the city dwellers who despise the strength of the borders and farmers who still form the bulk of Raetia's military.

Vitellius's youth was spent in hard labor on the farm, and even harder abuse from the city born. His favorite escape was the woods where his father had taught him how to hunt from a young age to supplement the family's diet of grains and vegetables. Weather in the field or forest, plants have always parted to make way for him, and it wasn't until he was 12 that he realized other people had to avoid brambles, instead of brambles avoiding them. Ever since he has clung even tighter to the old traditions than his father, even to the extent of preferring to walk through the woods instead of the much smoother path leading from the family's farm to the nearest small town, most of a days walk away.

Parent God: Nemestrinus
Parent Domain: Nature
Nemestrinus was dark tribal god who was adopted by the Raetian's as they expanded into the area. He is a god of the deep, dark forest. The medieval darkness where men so feared to tread they invented tales of werewolves and witches and talking trees to justify their terror of the all to real dangers of predators twice a man's size and ten times his strength who are all too ready to eat him if nothing slower presents itself first. Nature red in fang and claw. Often placated but rarely worshiped.

I am Communist
Apr 19, 2002

"Power flows to the one who knows how. Desire alone is not enough."

[The Beginning sounds ever so so sweet]:

CRAVOS - The Grey Fortress

Casually backhanding a slavegirl across the mouth for fearfully crying out and awakening him from sleep over the message; Cravos rolled out of bed grasping up Darkblade and donning his ornate armor. The others mewled like tiny kittens in their sleep as he snarled but soon settled. The great door to his chambers groaned open as his blind eunuch servant trembled with the effort to keep it from closing. Cravos smiled cruelly at the man who once he called master. He had blinded and castrated old Alfrod himself over a "disagreement" on who should lead. There had only been 7 attempts this year over the 40 or so his first year of rule. Now that Cravos was older and more secure in his rule, the attempts had slowed to a trickle.

The overlapping layers of leather, mail, and plate were a symphony of aggressive protection with Darkblade sheathed in its harness on Cravos' back. "Wake your fellow slaves Alfrod. Have them wake the warriors and the council of twelve. There is much to tell them this night."

The meeting with the twelve went as expected. The Iron Lords as they were infamously known all totaled twelve in number. Teeth replaced with iron nails and spikes driven into their bodies, they were garbed in black metal with masks of terrible visage to hide their scarred and war-torn features. They accepted Cravos' dream-message in silence, their wisdom in such matters to be trusted completely. Each raised a cruel and twisted blade in reaffirmation of Cravos' rule and will. They and their warriors would follow Cravos unto death.

Bells tolled and the fortress awakened.

Cravos knew what needed to be done. He first would seek out the Godsword of legend his people had spoken of. Swordgod of Godswords and Godsword of Swordgods, it was the world breaker and godslayer. An army left the Grey Fortress, riding steeds with bright eyes and steel-shod hooves, sparks and thunder alighting the early dawn. Cravos rode at the head of this force, with the Iron Lords behind him in a line.

The skyline in the north darkened with dust with the coming dawn.

He was coming and the world would tremble and bow in his passing or he would break it.

I am Communist posted:


  • (new) Strength [+6] - CRAVOS is strength personified.
  • Warlord/Despotism [+2] - Leader of men, armies, and ruler of nations.
  • Wyrmskin [+2] - The blood of the Great Wyrm Halud has strengthened Cravos’ skin.
  • Antimagic Aura [+2] Cravos’ contempt for magic is made manifest around him. Magic works more poorly, if at all, in his presence unless he wills it to.
  • Bloodlust [-2] His desire to see blood being shed, for either the sight or spilling of blood is part and parcel for the one true belief of strength and might over any established order.


The Broken Circle
Name of god: GRUMBOL 
Domain: Chaos [+2]
GRUMBOL is the ultimate destructor beast of chaos and annihilation. 
He is not a mindless destroyer,
but very clever.

I am Communist fucked around with this message at Oct 15, 2013 around 23:31

Feb 2, 2012

I finally understand everything there is to know about axes!

Tomar - Kantos Terra

Kantos Terra was a sleepy village in the foothills of a range of mountains, cool and verdant in all seasons bar winter. The village was fashioned from wood taken from nearby forests and with stone quarried from further up the slopes. The mountains had many names, but they had always been called the Blackpeaks by those who dwelled nearby for the fear of what dwelled within. The creatures that had resided there before man came to settle though did not often come out into the light of day, nor as far down the slopes as Kantos Terra or its farms. The village was near the edge of civilisation and safety, a last bastion before people travelled further into the unknown reaches and closer to the edges of the world. It had been Tomar's home since his parents had found him as a baby, and he was very fond of it for all the good and ill it held for him.

Although he strictly had come of age when he had turned sixteen, Tomar's eighteenth birthday had been the day when he was supposed to find someone to marry. On his own part Tomar had not really understood why, he didn't want to get married yet. Being married meant having a house, being tied down by children and responsibility. Well he wasn't really opposed to children really but he hadn't been interested in having them yet. As such his birthday had become less about him and more about everyone else around him. His mother had gathered some of the 'best prospects' as she had called them and Tomar had been going through the motions of having lunch with them and his parents when his world turned upside down.

"CHILD" A great and terrible voice had cried out. His parents had gone white as bleached bone, while the three girls, Dina, Jentra and Santhea had looked around in confusion for the source of it. Then they saw Tomar, screamed in unison as his features grow bestial and feral and ran out of the house. Almost tripping over each other to do so in fact.

But the voice had not stopped, it commanded him to go out and do things before it subsided. Tomar for his part was scared and shocked by what had just happened, but turning to his mother and father did not give him any succour in this moment of uncertainty. His father looked at him in fear, while his mother held a gentler expression, a mix of fear and also of sadness. "Tomar. Listen to me." She said quickly and in a voice that was supposed to sound reassuring. It lacked much comfort as she remained a distance from him and she did not come forwards. "You must leave Tomar. Leave Kantos Terra, go somewhere else for a time. There have not been monsters seen in these parts for 18 years, people will not understand what is happening. Quickly, gather your belongings and leave. I know you had your travelling gear ready to sneak out after lunch." Akla was beginning to cry now, which made Tomar's eyes start to mist up as well. When you were afraid and uncertain it was a terrible thing to see your mother cry.

His room was simple, it had a bed, a shelf and a wardrobe where he kept his clothes. All made by his father. Before it had seemed comforting and safe, then small and stuffy. He did not have time to reminisce further though. Tomar might not understand what was going on or why he had to leave but he was dutiful and obedient at least. He gathered his cloak, his satchel of herbs and bandages and his walking stick. At this point he stopped and considered the backpack. He didn't know how long he would be away from home, how long it would take people to calm down and let him come back. Sleeping under the stars without his bedroll or tent did not appeal to him greatly. He took it, packed a few other clothes hurriedly and heard shouting. "We know he's in there Valerian. Open up the door this moment!" A man, the chief Tomar thought yelled at the door. It had barely been minutes and already they had come to their door. How swiftly had those girls managed to run? And to bring their fathers so quickly. Akla ran in and began to rush him to the window. "Quickly Tomar." She urged him, actually pushing him to the window this time as her fear of the mob outside grew greater than her fear of what her son might have become. "You must not come back Tomar, I do not know what the fates have in store for you are my son. I love you." She said and cried as she kissed him on his brow.

The following afternoon was a confused blur for Tomar. He leapt out his window and out of town, managing to avoid the notice of the crowd at the front door. But he ran past the guards at the gate and so in time others would come to follow him. He had his natural athleticism on his side in the matter as well as knowing much more of the surrounding countryside than most in the village. The mountains made it hard to run flat out unless you knew where to tread. So Tomar ran, leapt, ducked and weaved until he passed by the boundaries of the fields that had been cut into the mountains and had reached the edges of the woods nearby. When he thought he had a moment to catch his breath he made for a small pond he knew of, with clear and pure water fed from the melting snow higher up the mountains. But before he filled his waterskin, he gazed onto the water and tested his reflection to see what had happened. Had he truly not changed entirely back? Or was it just his imagination...

Tomar is running away from home, and not in a romantic way. Explorer [+2] to bolt out of the village and to hopefully lose people. He had a headstart but maybe he was still followed. Tomar is also totally checking himself out in a reflection when he has the chance to do so.

HiKaizer posted:

Name: Tomar Liber
Sacred Flame Magic: Years ago there was an order of mages dedicated to the sun, their magics based on purification on fire magic. Tomar's father is descended from these, although he never learned the magic and the day the temples closed most of the order was lost. Tomar read the books though and has managed to figure out most of the fire part of the magic, with a bit of the purification on the side. Holy magic is hard when the gods don't grant powers after all.
Apothecary: Growing up in a shop surrounded by potions and poultices naturally leads to you learning about them. As well as this Tomar picked up what herbs are good to eat, what ones will cause pain or sickness, how to spot safe mushrooms and many other things that tie into the craft. On top of this Tomar knows a bit about haggling and trading from helping run the store, although nothing compared to a merchant by trade.
Explorer: Even though he is quick and clever, Tomar likes going out in the wilds beyond the edges of towns and farms and exploring. First it began as trips to the woods and stream. Later he went on a trip for a few days, camping out to climb up a mountain. He hasn't had the heart to leave home yet, but he would love nothing more than to go out into the world and explore.

Foible: Naive
Tomar knows that people will try to cheat, or haggle you down and those are the kind of things he expects to happen. But his home is quiet and there are no real crimes, people look after each other for the most part and so he doesn't really understand about the evil or deceit that can lie in peoples hearts.

Describe your adoptive family:
The Libers run an apothecary where they make and sell potions and poultices to people. They are generally good natured and have tried their best to raise their over-active and quite talented son. Akla Liber is the one who makes the potions and poultices, an art she learned from her mother back many generations. She is also an excellent cook, although all that would seek to eat before her meals are ready, or would pinch desert when they are not permitted it will learn what true terror really is. Valerian Liber is a carpenter by trade and while he is disappointed his son did not pick up his trade, he does take pride in that he managed to figure out the flame magic that he could not.

Describe the god whose symbol appears on your amulet:

When you were growing up you had a moment when you realized you were different than the other children. Either better skilled, physically different, or possesed of far greater natural ability. What was this experience like? How did it affect you?
It was when Tomar picked up a tome of magic, and without any theoretical or practical background sat down and though I can do this. He showed it to his friends, even the one apprenticed to the weather witch, but none of them could make heads or tails of it. To Tomar though it made sense and he quickly mastered the basics. Although he'd always been fit, anyone could be active if they put their mind to it. But magic was hard and different to learn.

What is your intended playstyle/What would do you expect from playing this game?
I want to be the nice guy, the one that works with people to get stuff done. I also want to find out what happened 18 years ago and to struggle against my (presumed) father's influence.

Jan 13, 2008

Vereora - Torrest, An abandoned building

"And you're sure that's all you know?" Vereora asked the bloodied man, only the barest hint of sarcasm inflecting her otherwise flat and emotionless voice. He was doubled over, his arms bent back behind him and held in place by her Shadow, but began to shake his head up and down fervently in answer to her question.

"Yes! Yes! I left the Shields, but they're -" the rest of his answer was stopped by a vicous cough followed by an upheaval of yet more blood onto the dusty floor of the abandoned building. Vere considered it rather unwise of him to interrupt his answer - just as it'd been rather unwise of him to believe her earlier in the alehouse, when she'd said she'd wanted him and that he should meet her here for that purpose - and crooked one long finger towards herself. Cloak, inextricably linked to her and her desires, obeyed her gestured command and tightened its grip on the man's wrists before putting a foot onto his back. "Grggghh - they shipped out of Coveshell a few months ago... when I left! I -" The rest of what was doubtlessly another tiresome plea for mercy was cut off when Vere put a finger to her lips, and Cloak wrapped both hands around the man's throat.

Hmmph. She'd hoped he'd been withholding information from her, but after an hour of intense question his story hadn't wavered. A pity really; she didn't need him anymore. She'd been rather pleased to have noticed him from her hiding spot earlier - having remembered the man but not his name from her years spent accompanying her father, it had been an excellent stroke of luck to encounter someone who might know where the Aggrieved Shields were. Alas, the man had left the company - and, disastrously for him, had been much too drunk to remember her or notice the obvious signs of her supernatural heritage; had been too drunk to realize that her feigned affection for him was just that.

The bloodwitch pointed at him, and then waved goodbye. Her Shadow slit the mans throat for her, the blood rushing into his windpipe and lungs doing wonders to reduce his dying scream to gurgles. It let him drop to the floor and then slithered back to her, reattaching itself to her. Vereora strode across the room and knelt over, sticking two fingers into the bloody river than until recently had been his throat. Other than minor irritation that the man had known so little of any use to her, she felt nothing. Onto the next step.

Taking a few steps back, Vere glanced up at the cracked and decrepit wooden door that led into the equally decrepit abandoned building she was using as a hideout. Aside from midnight moonlight and what sounded to be distant and drunken chatter, she observed no signs of anything even existing outside. If she'd been interrupted earlier, she could've just killed the man and then fled - the next step in her plan couldn't afford that luxury. Satisfied that no one was coming and that the door remained barred, she knelt back down again and traced a blood circle in the dirt, and then laid her pendant at the center before adding a few jagged symbols to the circle's interior. She ran out of blood about halfway through and retrieved more from the gaping wound her shadow had created in her victim.

It'd been weeks since she'd fled Deepwood. Following her mother's murder, Vere had begun to make her way inland, half hoping to hear from someone word of the Aggrieved Shields location and half hoping to somehow luck across one of the faces she'd seen when the villagers had slain Robelle - faces burned into her memory. She'd not been fortunate in either department; asking most villagers she'd come across about the location of her father's mercenary company had resulted in her being given the cold shoulder or shunned and was not entirely unlike asking cattle who ruled over their lands. Vere had made it all the way to Torrest before spotting the man she'd just killed. That it had occurred mere hours after her pendant had... spoken to (more like commanded and briefly tortured) her was auspicious. She'd had the thing as long as she could remember, and its obsidian edges were marked with brown streaks and spots from when she'd used it to slice open her arms to fuel her magic. That the thing had always been so eager to draw blood made a good deal more sense to her now.

A few minutes of carefully drawing esoteric symbols in the dirt later, and the circle was complete. "Cloak," she whispered. "Wrap yourself around me." It obeyed, and she smiled appreciatively. It'd hugged her earlier that day - when the voice had spoken to her of trials and woe, and she'd woken up trembling, sickened, and horrified - and the reassuring feel of her familiar against her skin gave her the confidence she'd need. "Thanks Cloak."

It was time. The circle was complete, the offering had been made. Let the summoning commence.

Vere is summoning up a Spirit of Suffering using Blood Magic [+2]. Questioning the Aggrieved Shields deserter was just a bonus, she'd needed blood to do the ritual and she certainly wasn't going to use her own. She intends to find out what it knows concerning the voice she heard, what was meant by "The Trials" and "the ordeal," and where this temple is.


Name: Vereora of Deepwood, but she goes by Vere.

Qualities and Foible

Blood Magic [+4] - There's power in blood, and Vereora knows how to manipulate it. She can use it to hurt others, conjure and bind spirits, or lay potent curses on those foolish enough to incur her wrath. As its name implies, blood fuels the magic - if she can't use the lifeforce of others, she has to draw upon her own. (Vere has improved her technique through practice, mostly on Mercy.)

Find Flaws [+2] - Vere's extremely talented at noticing or discerning faults and failings in other people; if someone hates something about themself, Vere can figure it out no matter how carefully they try to hide it.

Living Shadow [+2] - Watch her carefully, and you might notice her shadow moves independently. Its not so much "alive" as it is her familiar, and its probably the only thing in the world she actually loves. It obeys her spoken commands and gestures unfailingly, and she can use it to grab things, defend herself, or attack others. Vere calls it Cloak, and talks to it like its a separate person. It never responds.

Creepy [-2] - Vere's presence sets other people on edge and hints at her divine parentage. Her left eye glows red in darkness, her mouth occasionally drips blood that isn't hers, and oftentimes her hands look like they end in talons instead of fingers. Animals especially react poorly to her. This makes it rather hard for her to get people to like or trust her, which only fuels the negativity she feels.

Adoptive Family

Vere's adoptive parents had a strange marriage. Her mother was Robelle the Red, a witch famed throughout the Deepwood and beyond for her power and her rumored insanity, while her father Dagan was a torturer and sergeant in the employ of the Aggrieved Shields, a mercenary company with a fearsome reputation. Dagan's profession kept him away from Robelle for years at a time, and during one of these long periods Vere was deposited on their doorstep with an obsidian pendant and a note. By the time he'd returned she was already five, and while Dagan stayed at the house for three months, it soon came time for him to return to the Shields, this time bringing Vere along with him. She grew up being traded back and forth between each parent for a few years at a time, learning dark magic from her mother and how to study and break down others from her father. Every few years they lived as a complete family for a few short months, but then she was given to the other parent and the cycle repeated.

Eventually while living with Robelle, a mob of those who'd suffered her depredations for long enough stormed the hut while she slept, slaying her but failing to notice her adopted daughter. They cut her head off and burned the hut along with her body, forcing Vere to flee off into the night. Now she travels along, hoping to find her father, continue her studies, and kill everyone who was involved in her mother's death.


Name of God: Caerchaerus the Tormentor
Symbol: A red knife surrounded by clouds of black smoke.
Domain: Suffering [+2]
General Nature: Caerchaerus was a child of Bob, but unlike his father was monstrous and cruel. Born dead and yet still alive, he felt pain eternally, and possessed few desires other than bringing other people down to his level, to revel in their torture and to enjoy their anguished cries.

When you were growing up you had a moment when you realized you were different than the other children. Either better skilled, physically different, or possessed of far greater natural ability. What was this experience like? How did it affect you?

When Vere was about eight, travelling with her dad and his mercenary company, they were contracted to sack a city named Darris. The defenders were completely outmatched, and the Aggrieved Shields stormed the city, butchering the men and imprisoning the women and children. Having been left to her own devices in the company's encampment, she grew bored and decided to walk into the broken and burning city to find her father. Arriving while the slaughter was still in progress, she was mistaken for a native of the city by a wounded man, who tried to "help" her by snatching her up from the street and sheltering her with his own children in a hidden room beneath their home. She'd never been around other kids before, and while her parents knew about her glowing eye and tendency to drip blood from her mouth, she didn't exactly know those things were unnatural, or even uncommon, and made no effort to hide them from those she was now hiding with. Vere made things even worse for them when she used Cloak to cover the mouth of one of the two blubbering children.

Their frightened screams alerted others in the company to their hiding spot, and both she and the two boys were found and placed in a holding pen, to be shipped off and sold into slavery. If not for having lucked out and spotted Dagan from the pen, her life might have well taken a decidedly darker turn - instead, she was freed, and happily told her father that the older boys she'd been hidden with were idiots for having given away their hiding spot - its not like she'd hurt them or anything. Then and there, in the burnt out remains of the city, strolling away from the unlucky women and kids, Vere began to suspect that most people were weak and easily frightened, and that she herself was frightening - and that she was proud of it.

Intended Playstyle

Vere's spooky and mean, but not supremely evil or anything. She intends on finding her father, but mostly out of habit and to let him know what happened to Robelle. Mostly she wants to keep learning about herself and the world around her - for all her incredible negativity, she unconsciously hopes to find a place where she belongs one day. For being raised by a war criminal and a bloodwitch, she's surprisingly well balanced; she's pretty drat coldhearted, just not actively malevolent. With any luck she'll end up warming up to other people when exposed to goodness and community... but if that doesn't happen odds are good she'll return to Deepwood one day to massacre everyone for being complicit in her mother's death.

Rauri fucked around with this message at Oct 16, 2013 around 03:38

May 19, 2011

And when they shun their humanity, we welcome them here.

Nisha - Somewhere in the vast forests of the east

The voice startled her awake and she almost fell off the thick branch she'd been sleeping on. But her legs locked together around it when her reflexes kicked in, and so the Huntress listened to the thundering orders, hanging upside down with every nerve on her being on high alert, ready for a threat to come her way. “Hunt all over the world, stalking after three grand Feats to prove the way to the Ordeal. The trophy of this hunt is to be hunting incarnate!”

And then the forest came alive. It seemed that she wasn't the only one who had heard this order, wherever it had come from. All sorts of animals scattered from their hiding places. But Nisha was not just aware of their fleeing. She could distinguish them simply from the pattern of their steps and the beating of their wings. Their cries and the rustling of disturbed branches and leaves served as beacons for their location. She could throw her spear and hit anything at that moment.

But then it passes, and her senses turn back to normal. Of course, she'd always known she was better than everybody else she knew - but thundering voices and high-tuned senses were new to her. Maybe her destiny was, indeed, to visit the temple. But first, these feats. If she understood correctly, then she would have to hunt three creatures. A grin appears on her face as she drops nimbly to the ground, and begins to walk north. Let's see where these creatures could be found.

Action; Travelling! To the nearest town or city, I suppose. See if there are any creatures terrorizing the countryside or what have you.

Wahad posted:

Name: Nisha Amudee
- Tracker (+2); With an incredible eye for detail and a focus honed through years of experience, Nisha can find a polar bear in a snow storm if she has to.
- Survivalist (+2); Whether in the cold mountains or in the empty desert, Nisha has spent weeks and months living off nothing but the land. Even in the most unlikely places, she'll find a way to stave off death.
- Hunter (+2); Nisha is an expert with her weapon of choice - the spear - and there's few who can match her with it. But more than that, no quarry can escape her wrath. Her sprint can surpass the horned runner's, and if need be, she'll be as invisible as the panther.
- Single-minded (-2); Once she has a goal, nobody and nothing can distract or delay her. Obstacles will be removed. Other's needs will be ignored. She will achieve her goal. No matter what.

Describe your adoptive family:
Nisha was taken in by Suresha Amudee of the Orissan Vale, who through a fluke of fate was unable to bear a child with his wife. Her name was Lavanya, and she was delighted in her chance to have a child after all. Nisha as such grew up in the lap of luxury, never having anything to want, and she learned under the best. Though her education in more learned subjects was not particularly fruitful, she excelled in the physical and martial side of her training, soon growing up into a strong-willed warrior of her own right.

Describe the god whose symbol appears on your amulet:
Name of god: Jayendra, The Stalker, Lord of Victory
Domain: Hunting
General Nature: Great tales were told of the Stalker's feats. He brawled the Ur-bear into submission. He skewered the great serpent Vorungal and tempered his spear in its blood. For his followers, matching such feats is the prime virtue. In the pursuit of a quarry, in the moment right before the kill, one can see man's true nature, and revel in it. Jayendra rewards those who hunt with honor and skill, but loathes poachers and those who leech off the strength and generosity of others.

When you were growing up you had a moment when you realized you were different than the other children. Either better skilled, physically different, or possesed of far greater natural ability. What was this experience like? How did it affect you?
The Orissan Vale is a place where the primary food source is the bountiful herds of deer and feral sheep that roam the massive forests and mountainside. Hunters are revered as paragons of the community, both providers and protectors, and are celebrated in the yearly Tournament of the Stag. The strongest stag of the herd is marked with red pigment, and contenders are tasked to chase it down and kill it, without falling to the other predators and dangers of the environment. Death is not uncommon, but those who fall are honored as they should be.

When Nisha was sixteen, her training had given her enough confidence to compete. Women hunt as regularly as men in the Vale, but they rarely outperform them. Nisha not only found the stag before everyone else, but fought off a pack of wolves while hauling the prize back to town as well. People were delirious and she became an idol overnight. Her name was no longer important for she was now titled The Huntress. Men fought for her hand, but she refused them all. Because she knew then she was destined for greater glories. With nothing but her spear in hand, the clothes on her back and the amulet she'd had since she was born, she set out into the greater world.

As she travelled, so did she learn. Her speed and strength only intensified as she hunted more dangerous quarries with each turn of the moon, but so did her arrogance and disregard for other people. Civilization no longer interested her. There was only the wilderness, the hunt, and her power.

What is your intended playstyle/What would do you expect from playing this game?

Go around and being a mythical badass, pretty much. Kill some badass creatures, gain in power, fulfill my destiny. Be an arrogant poo poo while I'm at it, maybe fight some other demigods or armies if they get in my way.

Nov 3, 2005

Just Pig Bein' Pig!

Reginald - The Thouroughby Estate - The Great Hall

The Thouroughby estate sat on one of the cliffs overlooking the Sea of Dramoth. There were other wealthy estates built on the cliffs but his was the largest. The secret to the wealth of his estate was that it was built on a significantly sized gold mine so filling the coffers was always easy. Just hire miners, one small nugget of gold was an entire years salary for them , so give them two small nuggets and they worked themselves to the bone for you. If any of them stole you cut off their heads, no questions asked, and it quickly stopped the others from stealing. The Thouroughby Mines were harsh on thieves but relatively good to those that did their job. There was a neighboring estate, The Grunwald Estate, that was also built on an important silver mine that also unearthed occasional precious gems. Lord Grunwald was a great fat idiot though and was easily pushed around by his domineering wife. He kept little guards because everyone felt safe in this region. They wouldn't feel safe for long.

“Rise to power by any means necessary. Hoard wealth! Perform three great Feats and you shall open the Ordeal. Complete it and you will have earned your entry to my temple.”

Reginald thought about it over and over. Hoarding Wealth and Rising to Power, that wasn't anything new, he'd already been planning that since he was 5 years old, but three great feats?

There came a banging on the door interrupting his contemplations.

"Yes what is it , come in stop pounding on the damned door!"

His family steward Taggart came huffing and puffing in, another great fat idiot.

"Sir, *huff puff* It's your mother *wheeze* she's died in her sleep."

Reginald gave it a moment's thought. He never truly cared for her, she was a weak sniveling thing always caving in to his every whim. It made no difference in his life he may as well make use of it.

"Fucks sake Taggart compose yourself. Throw her body from the cliff into the waves and let the fish have a meal of her. Gather all her jewels, silver, gold, fancy dresses, anything of value and have it sold in the city. I know its relative worth so don't even think of cheating me Taggart."

Taggart looked like he'd swallowed a frog.

"S-s-s-ir? Really?"

Reginald gave the man a hard look and slowly walked closer until he was in the fat man's face and spoke.

"Yes you idiot! Really, if I wanted insolence from you I'd pay you less now go do as I have commanded and if you try to cheat me I'll cut off your head!"

Taggart turned white as a sheet.

"Y-y-y-yes sir sorry sir right away!"

He trundled off like a hog.

Reginald shouted after him.
"And send in Augustus!"

Augustus was a huge muscled beast of a man covered in scars from past battles. He was also the Head of his Estate Guards and more of a father to him than his own father had been. He had taught him how to use a sword and crossbow and how to lead men in battle and inspire their confidence. Moments later Augustus entered the Great Hall.

"Yes m'lord?"

"Augustus, Taggart will soon be returning with money, I want you to take that money and hire as many well trained fighting men as you can afford. We can dip into the estate's coffers if we must but I'd like to try to do it with only the money he returns with."

"Fighting men m'lord? We raisin an army then?"

"Yes we are Augustus, We are raising an army and we are going to start my conquest with The Grunwald Estate. With their silver and gems flowing into our coffers we will be able to raise a vast army. If he wants three great feats I'll give him 50."

"Great feats m'lord?"

"Never mind that, just be ready when I call you back. Oh, and send some guards with Taggart so he doesn't get any funny ideas, or get robbed."

Augustus smiled and saluted, he loved bloodshed and combat and he knew plenty was about to fall into his lap.

Reginald smiled to himself. Once the wealthy estates of Dramoth were under his control he'd have enough wealth to pick any feat he wanted and throw whatever men he could hire at it until he accomplished it.

Action: aside from sending Taggart to sell stuff and bring me back some bling nothing , the real fun starts after the next turn.

CapitalistPig posted:

Name: Reginald Thouroughby the 5th the Nobleman

Leadership [+4] - Reginald has an uncanny knack for being able to lead men, he knows how to settle their disputes and lead them into battle.

Charisma [+2] - Reginald , despite his attitude, has a way of pulling people in and making them want to protect him.


Snotty Little Shitlord [-2] - The people he doesn't pull in with his natural charisma tend to want him dead because he is a snotty , psychopathic, self absorbed shithead.

Regnald's family was a noble family that could not bear a child, when they found little Reggie on the doorstep their prayers were answered. They pretended he was theirs and rejoiced at a new heir to the Thouroughby estate. They had no idea what they were getting into. From the day he was 4 years old his father regretted his decision, while the mother blindly loved the child the Father saw right through him into the rotten core. When Reg came of age Father Thouroughby refused to give up the estate stating that Reginald needed more time to develop into a proper leader. The Estate guards entranced by Reginald's charisma disagreed and Reginald took over the family estate. He later had his father killed by assassins while he was travelling in a foreign country. His mother is an easily manipulated teary eyed mess and he treats his servants like garbage. He pays his guards well and the fighting men always seem attracted to the cash he offers for their protection.

quote: "What treasures here do Mammon’s sons behold!
Yet know that all that which glitters is not gold."
Symbol: A Gold coin with an imprint of a Knife.
Name of god: Mammon
Domain: Greed [+2]
General Nature: A Greedy , Petty, Demonic god. Mammon is all about whatever gets him more ,
whether it's gold , women , wine anything of value really. He will stop at nothing to attain more.

The first time Reginald really knew he was different was the moment he realized he could get people to do anything he wanted. He was 12 years old and his mother had gotten him a puppy. He gained amusement from petting the thing and it held his interest for about 10 minutes before he told his mother the thing bored him and he wanted to see what it tasted like. She argued of course but finally gave in and commanded the Cook to prepare the beast for Reginald's supper, and he did. Reginald thought it was the sweetest meat he ever tasted.

My intended playstyle is going to be well, a self absorbed , psychopathic little poo poo. I intend to be the most annoying kind of bad guy.
I wish to get a great story out of this game and I wish to be the villain in that story. Someone even unlikely allies would team up to fight against.

CapitalistPig fucked around with this message at Sep 8, 2013 around 21:26

Sep 4, 2011

- Great Guard Cavalry Captain

Julius Florus - The Town of Metroiska

“By cunning and guile, not brute strength shall you win the day. Make your way in the world and do three whopping Feats to unlock the Ordeal to enter my temple.”

Julius sat not a little stunned on the back of the wagon. Well this journey was getting underway rather quickly. He'd set out that morning from the home of his birth in order to fulfill the family obligation. Generally it took several months or even years before a Florus encountered the first notes of the epic they would compose, but here Julius was with the opportunity coming straight to him.

The driver at the head of the wagon shouted, "You alright, son? Sounded like you were fighting a war back there."

Julius called back, "I'm fine. Just practicing something, sir."

He settled back into his seat and watched the setting sun in the distance. His mind danced along, recalling the old tales he had learned over time. Most revolved around great warriors and lords who used their strength of arm to defeat a fell beast. Very few spoke of other less combative folk like himself. They usually focused on political intrigue or romance. A wry grin spread across Julius' face, for if there was a romance that qualified as an Ordeal, he would like to see it. According to his father, the courtship of his mother was as close as the world would ever see to such an effort.

"We're here." He heard the driver call from behind him. Julius poked his head around the wagon to get his first look of Metroiska. His father often made trips here and had called it "the first stop to everywhere." He had obviously exaggerated, but the town apparently did very well for itself.

With how small it was, there would be nothing here for Julius to learn that he did not already know, but it was still a convenient rest stop for travelers. With how late it was, most of the townsfolk and travelers like himself that were still active would be in the local inn. He might gain some inspiration on where to go next if he plied his trade in there. Thanking the wagon driver for the lift, Julius picked up his traveling gear and walked into the town. Even if he gained nothing, there would surely be a room to rest in.

Brainamp posted:

Name: Julius Florus


Learned +2 - The thick books of past deeds of lords and ladies, tomes filled ancient battles, and ballads from every corner of the world. Julius has read them all and remembers the lessons they taught. More specifically, the motivations that every character suffered from.

Trained Performer +2 - Whether on the stage or in the presence of a beast, Julius can keep up the facade of his role no matter what it may be. He has his pride as a professional, plus the knowledge of what will happen should he lose it in the wrong company.

Agile +2 - One needs to maintain an admirable physique in order to emulate the Heroes of legend. Who would respect the Monster Slayer that bore the corpulent appearance of an overly-fed merchant?

Madness [+2] - The intrinsic wrongness of the song has warped Julius’ mind forever, allowing him to inspire madness in those around him.

Foible: Untrusting -2 - Julius has grown so reliant on his own falsehoods that he can't comprehend of anyone not having plans of their own. He finds it impossible to allow anyone to grow too close to him, unable to believe their words or mannerisms.

Describe your adoptive family: The family of Julius Florus was an odd bunch indeed. Slap dab in the middle of seven children, all of whom were expected to follow in their parent's footsteps as thespians. The Florus family was widely regarded as one of the oldest and respected practitioners of their art, with good reason. They had long collected the old tales of the world, usually with the goal of reciting these "new" tales for their audiences. As is traditional for the Florus family, every child is asked to go out into the world to find a new tale, whether it be one that was lost or one that they have created, that they shall recite for the family upon their return.

Describe the god whose symbol appears on your amulet:

Name: Salazar, the Liar's God
Domain: Deception
General Nature: Salazar is the god of the lowly thief and the highborn noble. The simplest fib is a small prayer to him, and the grandest scheme is practically a sacrifice. Salazar himself is an altogether cheerful god, as the plotting and dancing of mortals and gods alike continually proves itself to be the greatest entertainment in all of existence. Of course, he also has his own plans, though what they might be and what his goals are at any given point are privy to him and him alone. He takes care to stay away from as many conflicts as he can, preferring to watch with his insufferable grin plastered across his face. He is also frequently regarded as the god of history, with the belief that every historian throughout time has only ever recorded the victor's truth, regardless of what actually occurred.

When you were growing up you had a moment when you realized you were different than the other children. Either better skilled, physically different, or possessed of far greater natural ability. What was this experience like? How did it affect you?

Once, long ago, there was a little boy with an amulet around his neck. He had been playing in the field with his friends all day, every one of them oblivious to their surroundings. Unbeknownst to them, a great beast had been watching from the shadows all day. It was hungry, and these little ones were such easy prey. Warily it crept out into the field and approached the children. The first to see it was the little boy, who cried out in surprise. Before the others could react, the beast had leaped into their midst and was about to tear them all to pieces, starting with the little boy. The boy was frightened, but his mind worked quickly. As the beast's jaws descended on him, he shouted out for the beast to wait. The beast paused in confusion, long enough for the little boy to think of what to say next. He spun a tale of the fattest cow in all the lands, one who's juicy flesh would provide a much heartier meal than a few children. The beast listened, then bade the children to bring it this cow, for its hunger was great indeed. However the boy who had told it of the cow must stay with it, as a guarantee the other children would return.

And so the little boy sent his friends off, with instructions on how to bring the cow back, then sat down beside the beast to wait. The silence was unbearable to the beast, for it was a lonely creature and longed for conversation. It asked the little boy many things, which the boy answered in turn. He revealed that he was the son of the local butcher, which was how he knew about the cow. There were more questions and more answers, and the beast grew more relaxed, his hunger forgotten as he learned about the boy and his life. Eventually the beast's questions broached on the amulet hanging from the boy's neck. The boy then hesitated for the first time. It was the one thing in his life he did not know about. The beast waited expectantly, but no answer ever came. All of its attention was focused on the boy, so it did not hear the town guard sneaking up from behind. It was struck down quickly and the boy finally let out a long sigh. There had never been a cow and he was no son of a butcher. But the boy was the son of an actor, and he now knew the power a well-spun story could have over even the most powerful of creatures.

What is your intended playstyle/What would do you expect from playing this game?

Julius is morally neutral for the most part. His main goal in life at this point is to complete the family tradition of finding a new epic, and whether that involves destroying an evil monster or taking control of a kingdom for himself doesn't matter. I've only been in one god game that died out a while ago, but it was really fun while it lasted, so here's hoping this turns out just as fun.

Brainamp fucked around with this message at Oct 12, 2013 around 04:58

Dec 15, 2007


Atekton - Thiramapolis

Atekton awoke from the dream surprised and filled with purpose at the same time. It was the first time he had given any thought to his true origin, but for the moment that concern was swept aside by a desire to build. He had finished his apprenticeship with the famed architect Medistenes, but it was traditional for the apprentice to complete a project on their own as a final test of their skill. However, Atekton hadn't had much luck in securing a client. Most men, he'd found, would not take a chance on an apprentice, not even one whose master was as famed as Medistenes.

No, it was time for bolder steps to be taken. It was with this in mind, Atekton sought out his father. For the young man knew that the town hall needed to be rebuilt, and the city had yet to find someone to present plans for the rebuilding. His father would not be easy to convince, but he might be more willing to extend an offer then the others he had asked.

So, with a mix of determination and trepidation he walked into his father's office in the existing town hall. "Father," he began, his voice as steady as he could make it, "I have a proposition. I know the polis needs a new town hall, and I know you have yet to find someone to take up the contract, and I need to complete a project to finish my apprenticeship. If you provide me with the total budget you have set aside for the project, I will bring you fully detailed plans by the end of next week. Then, if they meet your approval you can extend to me the contract to complete them."

Atekton is fishing for a project he can use to make his name.




Architect[+4] - Atekton would normally be a passible architect, with an occasional flash of genius that would give him a slightly above-average career. However, he has a natural way with stone, metal, and clay. He can do things with it that none of his brethren can, it’s like he can bring out the best in it. Ask him to make a wooden house, and you’ll get a result that’s acceptable, not great. Give him some marble or bronze to play around with and you’ll get a building worth your commission. It is largely thanks to this that he was able to succeed as the student of one of the land’s more prominent architects.

Manager[+4] - Atekton has been watching his father serve as mayor of the town for as long as he can remember. He's seen him step in to resolve disputes, work past obstacles with a mix of words and politics, and simply glad-hand and make promises to win. He may not have a drop of his father's blood within him, but he has through osmosis picked up many of his father's skills. Winning clients, managing workmen, dealing with local bureaucrats, all things a successful architect must be able to do, and all things his many years observing his father in action have prepared Atekton to do.

Easily Flustered[-2] - Atekton’s natural charisma and talent with stone has allowed him to slide through life with little resistance despite his father’s best efforts to help him “build character”. This means he’s never really learned to cope well with being thrown off balance. When things don’t go his way it can easily start to get under his skin, and knock him off his game.

Describe your adoptive family
Atekton’s father is the mayor of Thiramapolis, he is a stern man who expects much from his son, and is the one who pushed him into completing his training under one of the land’s most prestigious architects. He is not afraid to wield his influence for his adopted son’s benefit, but only when it advances Atekton’s own skills or character. Atekton has begun to chafe under his strict rules.

Atekton’s mother loves him dearly, and has a tendency to dote on him. For her, she is a gift from the heavens, for despite many years of trying she was unable to bear a child. Atekton’s arrival on their doorstep 18 years ago was an answer to her fervent prayers. She is a somewhat accomplished artist, and it is through her Atekton first learned to sketch, the first step towards his eventual career.

Describe the god whose symbol appears on your amulet:


Boron, the Stonefather
Father of the mountains and hills that dot the lands of the world. It was Boron who first taught men to mine the earth’s bounty and to form it into structures. He held a fondness for mankind, though those that abused his gifts soon found that his wrath was terrible indeed.

When you were growing up you had a moment when you realized you were different than the other children. Either better skilled, physically different, or possessed of far greater natural ability. What was this experience like? How did it affect you?

A young man with a piece of charcoal and some papyrus stands on a hilltop looking down at a quarry below. His teacher had not been very impressed with him so far, and he needed to come back with something lest his training be ended prematurely. This hill was always his favorite place, looking down on the raw rock of the quarry always seemed to calm him. Today though it did more than that, it was as if he could see the rocks begin to take shape. Suddenly, he had his drafting tools out, and there on the hillside he spent hours in a flurry of meticulously detailed drawing.

When the sun finally set he had a fully finished plan, and he knew it was good. It was more than good, it was easily the best thing he had ever produced. Atekton was giddy, he’d never been able to manage this level of quality before. He might just have a chance at this apprenticeship after-all.

What is your intended playstyle/What would do you expect from playing this game?
Atekton is in a formative stage at the moment. I’m keeping my options open, depending on how things go he could easily become a selfless artist who wishes to construct great buildings, a power mad tyrant using his knowledge of earth and buildings to destroy, or somewhere in between.

Basically I want to sort of go with the flow of how the character naturally develops. It’ll still probably be somewhat NPC heavy as per usual, since that’s just how I play.

Valhawk fucked around with this message at Oct 12, 2013 around 05:02

Jun 13, 2003

there may be people who
find a blender sexy - I
would do well with a more
humanoid model, myself

Mercy Dawkins - On the Road

She chose the SouthWest road. Why, even if she decided to try and articulate it, she didn’t know. It just seemed to be where her feet were taking her and maybe that was the best way to start. The first few days were uneventful. She spotted a few other villages, the ones the families back in Des’siri might trade with from time to time. She was nw beyond the edge of the little bit of the world she knew - and there was rain coming. She would have to seek shelter before the storm hit or else risk being stuck in it. Mercy pondered her options at a fork in the road. There was the path behind her, well worn with a village not too far behind her. The right fork seemed hardly used, overgrown at points, and the left fork was as worn as the path behind her. It also occurred to her that she could venture off the road, which had its own troubles.

Picked a direction for you to start a’walkin. Storm’s a’comin’ get to shelter. Or not.

Haal - Gloamtown, Harvat

Nobody in this shithole knew a thing about the amulet. Nor could most read. Gran Magaly’s term for it was, “simple folk.” A few peddlers made an offer on it, surely a pittance on the worth of even a mundane amulet of it’s make. One of the Sheriff's men who came to check in on the newcomer had some advice. “Nobody knows what that is, Traveler. They have a library up in Thiramapolis, it’s a few weeks travel North. Be a good place for your kind, away from here. I better not be hearing of anything going missing while you’re still here.”

You were basically adopted by gypsies, also nobody here seems to know much of what you might want to know besides what they need to get by. I rolled for it and everything.

Anatol - Corfu Harbor

A merchant vessel, whose crew and captain are known to you from their trips to your father’s establishment when they are in Corfu, agrees to take you on indefinitely in exchange for the crate of rum and your help in both sailing when on the ocean and trading when on land. Captain Avast and the Thirsty Traveler have a new swabbie on deck! You have a few days before they set off, they are waiting on another load of firewood to take to the various Island chains of the Great Ocean.

If you are keeping track of your inventory(which you all probably should be) you have traded the crate of rum and used your personal connections to secure passage though you cannot direct where the ship goes. You could have easily thrown a quality toward this as well, if you seem to be attempting an action but do not specify anything toward it I will roll a straight 2d6 with none of your qualities toward it. Unless I realize your foible applies. Bolded for everyone’s attention.

Damon Warren - Carcosa

It was far too late when Damon realized he had taken a wrong turn. Where he had expected the library there was only a brick wall at the end of an alley. He saw a few figures back at the entrance of the alleyway. “Hey that’s a nice watch you got there kid. How about you hand it over and nobody needs to get hurt?”

Hey you seem to be first to suffer for your foible. What fun!

Ortobo - Maelstrom

The storms were worse than the stories had claimed. Ortobo had expected something more normal, but the storm that raged would have reduced any dwellings he knew to debris. Yet he entered, and he rowed. The winds howled and pushed and the waves heaved but he continued on. He was only worried once, when he saw the rocks and the shipwrecks. Many larger ships had crashed upon the rocks about the shore, few smaller boats like Ortobos seemed scattered about as well. Ortobo lept out and swam the rest of the way, carrying his boat behind him. He made his way upon the beach, dragging his boat beyond the reach of the tides, and promptly fell asleep from the exertion.

When he awoke he saw a strange woman peering at him from behind some rocks. “You are the first mortal to survive the Maelstrom in a century! What is your name and what do you seek here?”

Success! You have survived the Maelstrom! You get an irc convo if you like!

Droumis - City of Belthas

The Sunlight Servants gather all that the move shall require, however you are found by the lawmen. You are sentenced and thrown into the Bethian Pit, a prison from which none have ever escaped.

When you get back your first feat is going to be a jailbreak. Or you perform jail feats.

Vitellius - Deep Forest

For days you track a bear. It seems to almost be throwing you off of ite s trail, again and again you almost lose track. Sometimes a wolf catches its scent, sometimes you notice a track or a broken twig. Eventually you come to a clearing, with the edge of the world behind, and the bear is waiting for you there.

You knew it had been huge, but now you see before you the Great Bear Shardik, scion of the Ur-Bear. You have chased him down to the edge of the world. Shardik roars in challenge, his left eye scarred over from some forgotten adventurer who once managed to strike a blow to the legendary creature. Shardik lunges, moving quickly for one of his size.

You rolled high enough to get a picture. Also bearfight.

CRAVOS - The Desert, Sandwyrm Territory

The sages have told for generations of the last known warrior to carry the Godsword of Legend, and of how he met his end in the gullet of the mighty wyrm Halud. The force rode to the edge of the sandwyrm territory, but not even the bravest and most loyal of Cravos’ servants or slaves would go a step further without a direct command. They looked to Cravos expectantly, as if he might be bold enough to ride out to summon the wyrm alone.

A dozen nude slaves pulled the cart carrying the ceremonial horn. To blow it would summon a wyrm, a fight few have survived and fewer still have won.

gently caress it. Sandworm.

Tomar - A fair distance from Kantos Terra

The reflection stared back. The stubble was a little scruffier than it ought to be, but the change was apparently not permanent. The crowd did not seem to be following him anymore, or have any idea where he was if they were still looking for him. The sun began to set while he was making sense of the day, night would be coming soon.

You have ditched them for now.

Vereora - Tor’Rest

The blood boiled and turned to steam, coalescing into a vaguely humanoid shape. It screamed in pain, “Ask your questions three and then release me!”

Success, you get to ask three questions to a pissed off spirit who suffers when it corporates in any way. Good luck!

Nisha - South of the Great Forest

It is almost nightfall, and you have covered much ground over the course of the day. You come across a group of men with dogs, asking if you’ve seen “a monster-man” with fur, fangs, claws, and other contradictory features.

Well this should be fun.

Reginald - Thouroughby Estate

Taggart returns the next day with more money than you had expected. He had apparently driven a hard bargain or been a good auctioneer. In any case your mother’s possessions have been hawked to fuel your ambitions.

Lots of money. Your mother is spinning in her watery grave.

Julius - Metroiska

Most of the clientele seem indifferent to your trade, a few slip you some coin and request some songs. The night goes absolutely normal, almost boring until a man with a crazed look in his eye grips you. “You sing? IT sings! I heard! In the caves deep below I found a way! You glow sir, you are special…”

Atekton - Thiramapolis

Your father gave you a long, hard look. “I’ll give you enough to make a bid to the council, but you won’t get them to move on it until they get a sign from the gods.” Your father comes back the next night with the necessary details and some money for you to get your basic materials to make plans and build an estimate.

You’ll get enough to make a bid to the council. From there who knows.

Jan 30, 2009



Alright! He did it! First step: Secure passage on a boat, complete! Now to step two, that was uh... He hadn't really thought about it yet. But when Captain Avast mentions the Island chains, he remembers the stories about weird rituals that the scattered tribes did, and more importantly, the use of certain natural substances that allowed the natives to enter an enjoyable trance. If Anatol managed to find out WHAT that was, maybe he could eventually share it with everyone! (by sharing he means throwing awesome parties and giving drugs to everyone)

"But first It might be a good idea to win the trust of the merchant vessel! I'm gonna do the best I can to help out the Thirsty Traveler. Heh... Thirsty Traveler, I get it now." He finishes monologuing to himself and uses the time before departure to hurry back to the tavern to decide which exquisite intoxicant of his hidden collection to present as a worthy gift if necessary.

Helping out the merchant vessel as best as I can with my abilities, also choosing a really good drink suited to the tastes of the Islands we are going to trade with.

Drinking+2: Using my unhealthy knowledge of pretty much all the liquors of the world to pick up something FANTASTIC to the tastes of the Islands

Heightened Senses+2: My senses can help during to sea travel itself, like being able to feel an storm coming/rapidly noticing if there's any rotten or unhealthy food that would be hazardous to the crew.

Charming+2: Using my charms to help out in any negotiation regarding trading if we arrive safely at the Islands.

Feb 2, 2012

I finally understand everything there is to know about axes!


Tomar scratched at his stubble and sighed. He'd checked his teeth, his eyes, his hands and a few other places but everything seemed normal. Never before he had he felt so truly alone or small in the world. Even if he wanted to show people his 'monstrosity', whatever that was or however he was supposed to do it he didn't think he could right now. Tomar filled his waterskin and glanced around. Shadows were lengthening and right now he felt pretty jumpy. He didn't want to hang around here too much in case the villagers kept looking through the night. Going further into the woods would be his only real option to ensure he evaded them at this point. Tomar wasn't really a woodsman, not in the deep areas, so he might get lost but that wasn't so bad. He'd be able to explore getting out at least.

The young outcast was fortunately nimble enough to avoid tripping over most things, but he searched for a couple of things in the remaining pieces of light. Firstly, something to eat. He knew most of the plants that were safe and also good to eat in the area and those he didn't he knew how to figure it out. But if he had time and the opportunity he would certainly catch an animal to cook. The last part was finding a spot to make camp and making a fire, which the latter was simple for him.

Tomar is going to get some dinner. That is his priority right now. Sacred Flame Magic [+2] to make a fire and cook a warm meal, hopefully with some meat but even a vegetable stew is better than naught. Explorer [+2] to try and find some game, catch and kill it, as well as Apothecary [+2] to find good, healthy and hopefully tasty plants to eat. Naive [-2] for now because Tomar has never actually had to kill an animal personally before.

HiKaizer fucked around with this message at Sep 11, 2013 around 22:36

Zombie #246
Apr 26, 2003

Murr rgghhh ahhrghhh fffff

Skarran - Ruined Monastery outside of Gulch

Skarran sits wide-eyed in the darkness for what seems hours after receiving the message in his soul. The walls of the ruined monastery reflect his heat back at him, and he lunges instinctively for a rat, biting into it, pumping it full of venom. He coughs and shakes his head, letting the rat fall next to him, blinking his eyes in suprise.

"Sssstrange," Skarran whispers to himself, "Thisss isss the firsst time the Voice hasss sssspoken within me..." He looks down at his amulet thoughtfully. From a far distance, he can hear the sounds of revelry coming from Gulch, a wretched hive of scum and villainy. Still, there were people there with good hearts, but they were few and far between.

Looking out at the night sky, Skarran hums a tune as best he can, a tune that used to be sung by the lepers that lived here. Maybe for once he was not alone...

Going to use +2 Assassin to sneak around the area, especially in Gulch, to check out any hot rumors, keeping an ear out for anything sounding like some sort of trial. Vagabonds always have far-fetched stories, maybe one on the town has one that is true. If I need to get the info out of anyone that seems genuine, using +2 Serpent's Tongue to sweet talk them into giving it up.

Zombie #246 posted:

Skarran Venom-Tongued

+2 Assassin Skarran trained himself from an early age in the rigorous arts of turning his body into a lethal weapon, a tool to be used for a specific and dreaded purpose.

+2 Poisonous One noted quality of having descended from a god of serpents, Skarran secretes venom from small glands above his sharpened teeth; he uses it often with his assassin skills.

+2+4 Serpent's Tongue Skarran noted that he could not get ahead in life just by killing people for money, and found that even his speech was gifted by his divine heritage; he can sway others emotions and wants much easier than most mortal men...if they can get over his appearance.

-2 Unnatural Appearance Skarran looks different than most human stock; shiny scaled skin, sharpened teeth, a noticed difference in speech and body language.

Describe your adoptive family:

Skarran was dropped off at a monastery occupied by lepers; they took him in, thinking him a baby infected with the disease. As he grew, they saw that he was not one of them, nor of no normal man; he was part monster. Still, they cared for him. A superstitious mob burned down the monastery, killing most of those he knew, and he fled into the night.

Describe the god whose symbol appears on your amulet:

+2 Serpents

Narhessk was a stoic god, not tending to flights of fancy, and was concerned with his station and his station alone. A child of Bob, he understanding of his role was to tend to the serpents of the world, and to ultimately devour it with his own children when the time for it to be over came. Needless to say, the mystery still remains with what happened with that.

When you were growing up you had a moment when you realized you were different than the other children. Either better skilled, physically different, or possesed of far greater natural ability. What was this experience like? How did it affect you?

Skarran's appearance never registered to him as being different, having lived among the lepers. What changed his mind was the night he ran from the mob. A particularly zealous farmer caught him scurrying away, and in defense Skarran bit his hand. The farmer clutched his throat, and gurgled, then tumbled to the ground lifeless. In the smokey light from the burning monastery, Skarran could swear that he saw the soul passing from the man's somewhere it was destined to be.

Skarran felt his role had been thrust upon him by that moment: Ensuring the transfer of specific (and deserving) souls to the departed realms.

What is your intended playstyle/What would do you expect from playing this game?

Skarran's gonna get some dossier's on some real bad dudes, then attempt to take them out, while being spookily pious about it. A snakeman altair, if you will. I expect to have some interesting character development as the game grows, and hopefully drink an ingame beer with another pc.

Zombie #246 fucked around with this message at Oct 13, 2013 around 02:05

Jan 13, 2008

Vereora - Tor'Rest, an abandoned building

Vere stood tall before the spirit, with Cloak peaking out from behind her. She'd planned her questions out ahead of time, best to ask them quickly before the incorporeal entity tried anything. But first, a warning. "It is agreed - three questions, three answers, and then I release you. Keep in mind, if you fail to answer to my satisfaction, I'll bind you to that corpse over there." She pointed at the body who's blood was still pooling on the dirty floor at the room's far end. Her left eye glowed a bloody red in the relative darkness of the room, and when she spoke, her voice was flat and dead sounding.

"First. A voice spoke to me earlier, a voice unlike any other I've ever heard. Who or what was it?"

"Second. The amulet beneath you. Whose or what's symbol is that?"

"Third. The voice spoke of a temple to be found in order to 'become suffering.' Where is this temple located?"

Lowering the left sleeve of her robe to her elbow, Vere motioned to Cloak to be ready. Her arm was positively covered in scars carved into strange symbols, some still obviously fresh. She trusted that the spirit would understand the implication.

Asking the spirit three questions.

Rauri fucked around with this message at Sep 11, 2013 around 18:58

Nov 9, 2011

My first attack must ALWAYS be a charge!

Mercy - On the road


This was a little bit more daunting than she whad initially thought. The paths before her had no real sense of what lay before them, and as far as she could tell, not even Old Man Gavin from Des'siri had ever bothered to venture this far by himself. A used road was always a safe idea, but well walked paths would mean thieves and brigands would be watching it. Not that she had much - but it was always good to err on the side of caution. Not to mention, well, how boring that would actually be. She was on an adventure, and had to try and break the norm somewhere.

Going back was a definate no - a sense that the voice of the amulet had told her to travel the roads, not go fleeing back when there was a little wind to get in the way. Plus by the time she got there, she would have to rely on the friendliness of strangers to get shelter - that never worked for her at home.

So it left one path and one path only. The overgrown one. Unused for a while, so less chances of things surprising her. Plus, if it lead to a place that was abandoned, she could seek shelter in there with no worries. Of course, she had no idea where it led, but none of the other paths satisfied this option.

She sighed as she turned to it, wondering if someone would find some way to make paths easier to choose. A directional notice or some signs would be nice.

Taking the overgrown path. Let's get dangerous

I am Communist
Apr 19, 2002

"Power flows to the one who knows how. Desire alone is not enough."


The Sword of Mok'Damu, known as the Godsword. Fallen in the lands of the ancient star serpent race of Seyrasa. Halud, greatest of wurms! Were the legends of his people true?

Curling his upper lip at the cowardice of his men, Cravos dismounts and begins to stride out into the dunes. Few of the men begin to follow, the Iron Lords keep a safe distance but grudgingly follow while the bulk of the army stays out. Cravos takes a handful of sand in his grip and slowly lets it fall to the earth.

"The Encyclopedia Metallicum Infernus was right! SLAVES, sound the horn! By the God of the Mad Mirror, Shasuseran and Suisualocidius; God of Ash, Dust, and Sand RISE drat YOU! RISE!"

Cravos drew his sword and pointed it at the dunes as the horn blasted its song of unmaking out into the wastes. "Mark me beast, for it shall either be you or I that dies upon the sands this day. I will have my prize even if I have to crack the planet to get at you..."

I figure these two parts are a part of a single action, but if this is considered action stacking: I'll take using my abilities on the combat over having people follow me.
  • Minor Leadership Action: Slightly using Warlord/Despotism [+2] to have the Iron Lords and their retainers to follow Cravos into battle.
  • Major Battle Action: Using Ultimate Physical Prowess [+4] to battle Halud, Greatest of the Sandwurms.
    • First Round: Flipping out for [+2] Attack Bonus, [-2] Defense
    • 2nd and Successive Rounds: Normal attack/defensive actions.

I am Communist fucked around with this message at Sep 11, 2013 around 14:33

Nov 3, 2005

Just Pig Bein' Pig!

Reginald - The Thouroughby Estate - The Great Hall

Excellent! Taggart had done well. This was more than was expected, now there would be no need to dip into the Estate's coffers.

Reginald smirked slightly.
"Taggart, you have exceeded my expectations."
He then took a gold coin from the loot Taggart brought back and tossed it to him.
"Take this and continue to serve me well.You may leave."

Taggart waddled away like a fat duck.

"Now, Augustus I'd like it very much if you could take this money and a about 20 of the men here and go across the sea to hire some of those Rathar mercenaries and bring them back. I want a REAL army not the yokels in the city."

Augustus smiled, he loved Rathar and it would give the men a chance for a little R&R before whatever Reginald had planned.

"Yes m'lord, we will leave tonight."

Rathar mercenaries went through a rigid brutal training and were notoriously vicious and loyal to the one that hired them, not like the standard fighting men in the city. It would take longer for them to get here and they would be more expensive, but one Rathar mercenary was worth 10 of the fighting men that could be had here.

"Excellent, do well in this and I will give you spoils from the coming battle, and there will be plentiful spoils."

Sending off Augustus to bring me back those badass Rathar merceneries and using my skills at Leadership [+4] to plan a battle strategy for attacking the Grunwald Estate. I'm also visiting the mines and making sure everything is operating smoothly and making sure my foremen are doing their job, maybe using some of that Charisma[+2] to inspire them if I can.

Dec 15, 2007


Atekton - Thiramapolis

Accepting his father's support with the deference the older man expected, Atekton was soon on his way to the hill that marked the halfway point between the town and the nearby quarry. Since the town had grown out of the existence of the quarry they were fairly close, and from the crest of the great hill it was possible to look down upon both. What was already a significant location for the townsfolk was made even more so by the fact that the hill marked the center-point of the great obtuse triangle formed by the great laylines. Once, this would have been the prime site for celebrations and festivals offering prayer to the gods. His mother had told him that the priests used to keep vigil at the hill's peak constantly, and it was impossible to avoid running into one no matter the hour of the day or night. Now, nearly twenty years of silence had done what the elements could not, for Atekton stood atop the hill alone. He had always found this place comforting, and a perpetual source of inspiration. The fact that he was quite possibly the only person who came to this place with any regularity helped for it was far enough from the hustle and bustle of the city to allow the young man to indulge in the quiet of the place.

It was here that he set to work drafting his plans, he had some months ago cleared the overgrowth on the old alter that had once stood proud atop the hill. For though he cared not about its past significance, its surface was completely smooth and served as the perfect table upon which to draft. Looking down on the town below, he set out his tools, the various papers and pens and measuring instruments that formed the basis of his craft. If he was to win the counsel's approval he would need something truly spectacular, a building that seemed far greater than the resources that were put into it. Even if he hadn't needed to impress them, he still would have settled for less than a work of art. For this was to be his statement to his peers and the world that he was no longer a student, it was to be an estimate of his worth and the basis of his future. No, he needed something that would exceed expectations, something that would be renowned. So, he closed his eyes and thought. Thought about the landscape and terrain, thought about he layout of the city and its style, and thought about what such a building should represent. However, whenever he thought about the town hall, what it stood for his thoughts inevitably drifted to his father. The man had been mayor for as long as Atekton could remember, and for his foster-son symbolized everything that was good about the office. Eventually, after struggling with the concept for a time, he decided that instead of resisting it, he should embrace it. If his father was truly the symbol of the mayorship then he would use that as inspiration for his design.

The sun high in the sky, he set to work bringing this vision into reality. He would design a building that was stern and imposing but at the same time welcoming and possessing its own dignity, full of clean lines and shapes, not weighed down by showy opulence. The building would as his father was, not relying on pretty baubles but drawing majesty from its underlying structure, just as his father did not rely on empty words but showed his pride and approval nonetheless. It would fit into the existing landscape as though it was meant to be there, and would soon be impossible to imagine what the town had looked like without it, like he and many of the townsfolk could not imagine any other man as mayor. His vision clear, and overflowing with purpose, Atekton would work till the sun fell low in the sky, and then be back as the sun had just started to rise in the sky, stopping only to eat and sleep. He would complete a plan that would win the approval of his peers, the council, and his father. A truly worthy work to make his name.

Drafting plans for the new town hall using the materials his father gave him. General aim is to have the building be a subtle tribute to his father. It won't have statues of him or anything so gauche, but rather it will embody the concepts Atekton sees in the man. Aiming to make it so the final product looks like more than the sum of it's materials. Architect[+4]

Jan 20, 2010

Vitellius Ousanas vs the Ur-Bear!

Fortunately, the clearing slopes down towards the edge of the world. This was good partly because it let me face it nearly head to head even though it would tower over me on level ground. But mostly because as a hunter who had often watched bears and studied their ways, I know that bears have trouble standing upright and always lead with their heads when attacking up a slope. With a ferocious howl I stepped forward and threw all my strength into a punch straight at the bear's tender nose.

Punching a bear in the nose after taking maximum advantage of the terrain thanks to my experience as a hunter +4

Jun 13, 2003

there may be people who
find a blender sexy - I
would do well with a more
humanoid model, myself

Combat Update Special

Cravos VS Halud

As his army threw hooks and lines into Halud Cravos lept into its maw to pierce the soft flesh beyond. The legends claimed the only way, aside from drowning, to kill a wyrm was from within. The fear of Cravos outweighed the fear of Halud for the great army and they held firm as Halud thrashed, throwing a score of men a quarter mile every few minutes.

Deep Within Shalud Cravos resisted the crushing force of the wyrm’s gullet, stabbing and cutting his way through to the Wyrm’s stomach. One of his stabs must have hit something vital, as Halud gave one final death shudder and was still. Cravos was covered in the beasts blood as his hand fished around in the stomach for the Godsword of legend…

Flawless victory! All Hail! You take no damage. You have two options for the trait for completing your first feat:

Godsword [+2] A magic sword bound to serve Cravos.

Wyrmskin [+2] The blood of the Great Wyrm Halud has strengthened Cravos’ skin.

Vitellius VS Shardik

Vitellius opened with a mighty punch to the nose of the Great Bear. The wolves dove in, biting at the bear and taking hold. The Bear fought back, mortally wounding the wolves and mauling Vitellius. Vitellius struck back, strangling the bear.

You win, but took two damage in the process. You lost a rank of beastmaster and Hunter. You are injured and alone at the edge of the world and will have to rest up before you can move out.

You have two options of the trait to take on for completing your first feat:

Claws of the Bear [+2] - A weapon made from the paws of the Great Bear Shardik.

Strength of the Bear [+2] - The absorbed strength of the Great Bear Shardik

Jan 20, 2010

Vitellius Ousanas at the Edge of The World

Blood streams down his face from three long, shallow slashes made when he'd been a touch to slow to dart back out of range after socking the UrBear in the nose. Panting, Vitellius staggers back to his feet and out of the clearing. He returns a few minutes later with a sharp stone and uses it to skin the bear. Wrapping the skin around himself, he feels the storied strength of Shardik flowing into him. Strength enough to feed the wolves who'd helped him and sends them away. He has no more use for them, and in his weakened state he fears they might turn on him.

After taking all he can carry from the choicest pieces of meat he staggers away. He remembers seeing a waterfall with telltale shadows not too far back. His trained hunter's eye thought there was likely a cave there. It will make a great place to recuperate where any predators won't be able to follow his scent back (because the waterfall will wash it away) until he has his strength back. Or at least has stopped bleeding so he can start traveling safely again.

Taking Strength of the Bear +2
Using my remaining Hunter +2 skill to find a nearby place to rest.

Sep 4, 2011

- Great Guard Cavalry Captain

Julius Florus - The Town of Metroiska

He'd often been complemented on his appearance, but never before had he been told that he glowed. With a quick check to make sure he had not ignited his clothing on anything by accident, Julius turned to the crazy-eyed man with jubilant expression.

"You found it and it sings? Why this is marvelous news. Please lead the way. We must not tary."

If this had been any other day, Julius would have made a vague promise to follow then slipped away as the old man ran off. However he had just received a god given message, and this might be the first of his ordeals. The old man might still be speaking in nonsense, but Julius was gaining nothing by staying in this town. Gathering up what little he had, he bade a fond farewell to the patrons and followed the old man towards these caves he went on about.

+2 Learned: While the old man leads Julius to the caves, he'll be trying recall any stories that dealt with singing monsters or things that dwelt in caves such as these.

I am Communist
Apr 19, 2002

"Power flows to the one who knows how. Desire alone is not enough."

I am Communist fucked around with this message at Sep 12, 2013 around 15:08

Oct 28, 2007

Damon Warren - An Alleyway

Damon curses as soon as he realizes his mistake, slowly turning around to face his mugger. These sorts usually carried a knife, and Damon had no desire for a stabbing today. Or any day, really. He mumbled under his breath a moment, before fumbling with his pocketwatch, unhooking the chain. "H-here you go, take it, it's yours!" he says, before promptly tossing the thing at his assailant and getting the hell out of dodge while the mugger is distracted with his 'prize'.

I am throwing it at him and then running away!

May 19, 2011

And when they shun their humanity, we welcome them here.

Nisha - The Great Forest

She laughs at first. A monster-man? Surely they'd had too much to drink. There were no such things. Perhaps they'd run into a particularly ragged bear, or a wolf, with odd lighting that had made it seem like a man. But no, they swore it was a man with monstrous features, who had grown fur and teeth, and claws as terrible as jagged knives. A monster of the most terrible degree, a threat to their entire village! Nisha thinks it over for a while, petting one of the dogs that had sidled up to her. She hadn't seen a creature such as they described, but if it was indeed such a threat, then perhaps she should join them. Hunting such a monster might be one of the feats that the voice was talking about.

And if not, it was still a feat of personal glory either way.

So Nisha listens some more, terrible stories from all of the villagers. She wonders why they even came out at all, as obviously terrified as they are. But when she has heard enough, she joins their group and leads the way. If it was indeed a monster man, its tracks would be easy to spot - not quite human, but not quite animal either.

Tracking (+2) to help them track down this monster-man they're talking about and find out what it is.

I am Communist
Apr 19, 2002

"Power flows to the one who knows how. Desire alone is not enough."

CRAVOS - At the Corpse of Halud

As Cravos throws his arms into the air in triumph, his army roars along with him in victory. With a flourish he watches in fascination as the blood of the Wurm absorbs into his skin and the great beast magically starts to decompose at an accelerated rate.

There. The blade. Reaching forward Cravos grasps the hilt of the sword and draws it from Halud's flesh. As he does so the blade begins to rust away and crumble to dust. "What?! What sorcery be this! Demon dogs and filth of the Abyssal Father! This cannot be..." Laughter found its way to Cravos on the wind. "I know that laugh!"

"Indeed, it is I! Orion, Master of the Arcane! I possess the sword you fool! Come to claim it if you dare." The Wizard's voice carried upon the wind. Before Cravos could reply a bold dog of Cravos' legion stepped forward, <"FAILURE! YOU ARE NOT FIT TO LEAD US CRAVOS! I SHALL BE THE CHOSEN!"> he screamed at Cravos as he aimed a blade at his former master's back. The sword shattered upon Cravos' skin.
The soldier's face turned to surprise as he found darkblade shoved through his chest. Cravos felt a change come over his body as sure as he could feel the weight of his blade. He was stronger now. He could sense and feel it.

Cravos didn't even spare the dying traitor a glance. "I'll come and slay thee wizard. Even without my new dark gift, it would be child's play. You've crossed my ambitions for the last time Orion!"

His cloak flapping behind him, Cravos signaled for his retinue to follow him. Ignoring the advice of his council that this could be a trap, Cravos makes his will known: "Strike camp. By the come of the next dawn, we march upon the Tower of Orion to the East!"

  • Taking Wyrmskin [+2]
  • Striking camp for the night, then heading East towards the Tower of Orion.

Feb 4, 2008
I like bread

Otorbo, Island in the Maelstrom

Otorbo woke up with a gasp, spitting sea water onto the sand. He clutched his amulet instinctively, facing the strange woman with a cautious demeanor. He was entirely defenseless, but he wouldn't give an inch, no matter what.

"My name is Otorbo!" he said, loudly, to reassure himself, then resumed in a calmer tone. "I have come to consult your knowledge. In the tales of our tribe, you are said to be a sea-witch, knowledgeable in the matters of the gods." He presented his talisman to the woman. "As a newborn, I was left on the doorstep of my tribe, with this hanging around my neck. It is the symbol of Unkhor, the Deep One, and nothing special had ever happened with it... until a few days ago, when it spoke to me, and spewed water that did not drain easily. The message told me to prove myself, to achieve three great feats, and go through an ordeal... so that I might be ready to grasp His power." He cleared his throat. "That is my tale. You may take it as you will. I am lost, and I hope from the bottom of my heart that you might have answers to share with me."

Showing the sea-witch my amulet, telling her the tale so far and asking her what it could all mean, while being somewhat cautious. Keeping my grip on sanity through sheer force of will.

+2 Iron Will: stranded in an island in the middle of a storm, confronting a supernatural creature I know nothing about... I will soldier on through it

Feb 1, 2006

Haal - Gloamtown, Harvat

"Thank you, kind stranger." He said in the lowest, bedraggled voice he could manage. He'd never had a talent for voices, so the Sheriff's assistant mostly ignored it.

That suited him just fine.

He did his best to blend in, unseen, his colorful Gypsy shoes and hat doing him a disservice as he watched the man that had helpfully given him advice, but a little ignorance goes a long way and he was repeating and often said slur against the traveler folk. He questioned messing with a lawman, but he'd never visit this place again, and reputation preceded him besides. He wanted a different reputation. Gloamtown was built near a cliff going down to a lake, and would you know it, right next to it was the lawman's house. Hazardous, that.

Before zipping off to Thiramapolis I can't leave well enough alone (-2 Judgemental) so I'll be making something go missing so big it couldn't possibly be the work of a weary traveler. Specifically the abode of this pompous Deputy. Not too sure how our mortal domains interact with our godly ones, but using +2 Desolation to erode away the hill below his domicile, +2 Prankster to mastermind the plan and +4 Magic to make the house say "Yippy!" as it slides.

If my stupid as I suspect, and we can't stack divine domains with mortal ones or don't actually
have access to them yet, then just doing the lot with Prankster and Magic.

Hamshot fucked around with this message at Sep 14, 2013 around 15:08

Jun 13, 2003

there may be people who
find a blender sexy - I
would do well with a more
humanoid model, myself

Anatol - Thirsty Traveler

The preparation goes well, and the ship sets off toward the islands. Everything is going well until Anatol feels an off wind, the air pressure subtly changing, and a storm coming. Avast does not seem aware of it yet, and is making good time.

Everything goes okay so far. You have a few bottles of “Anatol’s Private Reserve”

Tomar - Wilderness

The rabbit succumbs to a bolt of flame, and makes a fine addition to the meal he gathered. As he ponders over his meal, the smell of smoke wafts over to him from the direction of where he found the rabbit. It is on fire and it is spreading as fire tends to do.

You eat a surprisingly good meal under the circumstances, but then it seems the brush has caught fire.

Skarran - Gulch

“A monster!” Skarran is caught and apprehended by some bumbling farmers. Trapped within a net and disarmed he is brought into town. You are brought before the cleric Janvyre, wearing dark grey robes and leaning on a twisted staff.

“So you live, godspawn. What do you call yourself?”

Three guesses as to the nickname for what you rolled. Hint: Fits your character’s theme.

Vereora - Tor’Rest, an abandoned building

“I don’t know on your first question, I was not there. But if the amulet is tied to it, it must have been Caerchaerus the god of suffering, for the amulet is his. Its temple lies at the foot of the Great Temple of Bob at the edge of the World…” The spirit boiled and dissipated, releasing one final scream of agony as a storm blows in.

It’s near the brown dot, Southeast point. Otherwise you know a bit about your god-parent now.

Mercy - On the road(Tor’Rest)

You wander down to an abandoned farm at the edge of a shabby village. Just before the storm hits you hear a scream coming from the barn, the door is slightly ajar. Other than the creepy screaming it would make the perfect place to wait out the storm.

Reginald - The Thouroughby Estate - The Great Hall

The mine is running splendidly, a new vein has been discovered in an area thought to be depleted and gold ore is coming up by the cartload. A few weeks go by and Augustus returns with 200 Rathan Mercenaries.

They came back without any issues.

Atekton - Thiramapolis

The plans were good, any settlement of Thiramapolis’ size would be glad to have an administration building like it, but it was lacking...something. As Atekton was looking them over yet again a gust of wind took all his papers, scattering them between the hill and the quarry.

You didn’t fail to make plans, they’re good, but they aren’t the exceptional ones you are aiming looking for.

Vitellius Ousanas at the Edge of The World

The wolves eat of Shardik, drinking traces of your blood cover them. Somehow, as you took on Shardik’s Strength, it seemed they took on something as well. Their form changed to something between wolf and man and they ran off howling into the woods.

After some time the bleeding stops and the wounds are stable enough to travel again. The wounds will still come as a hindrance, but a wash in the waterfall will wash away the blood.

Accidental werewolves! You’ve healed enough to recover beastmaster +2. You will be missing one rank of hunter for a period of rest of longer period of activity. Getting injured sucks.

Julius Florus - The Town of Metroiska

Bits of stories about sirens, and songs that wove magic into them, and all manner of cave-dwelling monsters, but nothing came to mind of singing cave monsters. The man, whose name you gather to be Theodore from his rambling, brings him to some caves at the foot of the Great Mountain Citadel. “It was below, years and years ago. I have not heard it since but it spoke to me. Tell me it actually happened and I am not mad for nothing.” He begins to scream for a few minutes. It seems to happen sometimes and then he will snap out of it.

Inside the cave you can hear an echo of song, atonal, otherworldly, either sung by a strange creature or an unknown instrument. Theodore does not appear to hear the song.

Damon Warren - An Alleyway

The pendant hits the speaker in the head and he falls to the ground twitching. Damon does not witness this as he is running into a wall, knocking himself out. When he comes to the two other would-be robbers are dead and mutilated and the pendant is back in place on its chain, covered in blood. Damon, except for some odd spots around his chain and pendant, has no noticeable traces of blood on him.

Nisha - just outside The Great Forest

There appear to be regular plain old human tracks in a roundabout trail. Whoever left them took great care to cover their path. After following the trail a portion of the evening a campfire can be seen a distance away, as well as a much larger plume of smoke in the distance. The locals run off at the sign of fire, apparently such a thing in the grasslands can be devastating to their homes and fields.

You’re pretty close to Tomar’s camp.

CRAVOS - At the Corpse of Halud

The army works quickly, making their camp while stripping the corpse of the wyrm of as much scales and teeth as they can. The wind howls throughout the night, and by dawn the next morning a massive sandstorm is pummeling the camp. The counsel of your advisors and desert survival itself says to stay put and wait the storm out for as long as you have supplies to do so yet the laughter of the wizard Orion still echoes in your ears.

Otorbo, Island in the Maelstrom

“I am Katarka, god-child.” She shook her head. “If your kind walks the world it is a dire thing. You’ll need to succeed in your quest to restore the power of the gods. You are a fallback plan in case something goes terribly wrong. I’ll wager there are many others like you, all striving for their own accomplishments. You’ll have to keep up if you are to claim the Deep One’s temple.” She smiled. “drat, you are not entranced. Very well then, I would say crossing the Maelstrom qualifies as a feat: Choose wisely…” In one of her hands a wisp of cloud, a miniature storm appears, and with the other she scoops up a handful of amazingly pure water.

Storm Magic [+2] “As you have braved the Maelstrom you may take a small part of its power and fury as your own.” Pretty self explanatory I hope.

Amphibian [+2]: “The power of water may well be your goal. To aid you on your way let the waters of this world be as home to you as the air of the surface.” You get gills and can breathe underwater.

Haal - Gloamtown, Harvat

The little boy, no older than four, ran to his mother. “Mommy! Mommy! The house is shaking!” She was running to the crib, trying to pick up the newborn baby. “Timothy, get out of the h-” she was cut off as the house began to slide off the cliff, the three of them the only ones to hear the house exclaim as it fell to its doom in the waters below.


Elsewhere, it occurred to Haal that he had only ever used magic instantaneously. He had placed curses, though never intentionally. Perhaps he could now refine his raw magical talent.

Charms [+2] Enchantments having a positive or helpful effect.

Curses [+2] Enchantments having a negative or hindering or effect.

You have no access whatsoever to divine domains at this time. You have the three mortal ones and are gaining demi-god ranks through the feats. These new ones may or may not have extra effects/weaknesses.

Dec 15, 2007


Atekton - Thirmapolis

The process of drafting had been intensely frustrating for Atekton he just couldn't get his ideas to come out correctly on the paper. When he was finished the project was merely good, and then to add insult to injury a gust of wind blew his plans off towards the quarry. He rushed after them, picking up what he could as he went along, but soon stumbled on a rock he had failed to notice in his hurry. With a curse he fell to the ground, the papers he had already gathered flying away afresh. Seething now, Atekton continues once more to try and gather up the weeks of work before the wind makes off with them and ruins him in the process.

Chasing after the plans that got blown away. None of my domains really apply, but unfortunately Easily Flustered[-2] does.

Jun 13, 2003

there may be people who
find a blender sexy - I
would do well with a more
humanoid model, myself

Atekton - Thirmapolis

As Atekton gathered up the last of his drawings and bound them in his satchel he felt a rumble and heard a great roar from the quarry. A great cloud of dust rose up and the workers screamed, panicked. The foreman was nowhere to be seen and the workers were all pulling rubble away at random, with no regard to how each part of the pile factored into the greater whole. One worker was soon crushed by sliding rubble resulting from pulling out the wrong piece of debris.

Edit: Though it was a quarry, it appeared that they had dug out to a concealed chamber and, being unused to building supports as in a mine, constructed a crude support over the entrance. The results were obviously insufficient to handle and retain the load of the unstable stone aoove.

There. Give this one a day or so of thought.

Edit: Forgot the mystery chamber part. Derp.

JamezBfod fucked around with this message at Sep 16, 2013 around 03:26

Feb 1, 2006

Haal - Gloamtown, Harvat

He heard screaming, shouting, rushing all around him. He rubbed his hands together in glee. How could you change your reputation without anyone knowing what you'd done, nobody asked? Well, monologues Haal, because that wasn't the magic trick. He felt so helpful, oh so helpful right now.

At the cliff edge newly defined a crowd had gathered to gape and gaw, maybe even with a few brave fellows fruitlessly diving in to help. Then there were sparks! Colour! Fireworks as the Traveler cast back his fur coat and exclaimed "I am Hairgician Haal! A Mage of Hair! Stand aside, citizens, as I lift this poor family to safety from this entirely predictable and naturally occurring disaster!"

For I am a puppetmaster you see! Taking Charms.

Charms [+2] Enchantments having a positive or helpful effect.

Pulling the family from the wreckage by the hair, growing it where necessary for the likely bald baby but I liked the idea of prancing about as a faux magician of hair too much. Using +2 Charm to strengthen and grow the hair to a lustrous sheen and +4 Magic! to yank them out with it.

Nov 3, 2005

Just Pig Bein' Pig!

Reginald - The Thouroughby Estate - The Outer Courtyard

Amazing! Reginald was beaming with pride, not only had he gotten the mines in tip top shape, he'd also gotten far more Mercenaries than he had initially thought. Inspecting them, he indeed thought his earlier estimate was true, each of these hardened fighting men were worth 10 of the men found for hire in this area.

This would do well.

He had gone over the plans with Augustus and the leaders of the mercenaries and now he was ready. It was time, time for Grunwald to fall to Thouroughby and add its silver and gems to his wealth.

Reginald addressed the men in the courtyard.

"Today we strike against the grunwald estate and if we are successful you will be paid handsomely. There will be more conflict to follow. Conflict means spoils, and here in this rich land the spoils are great. It is time to ride forth!"

Reginald kicked his horse into action and marveled as his newfound army marched to war against an unsuspecting Grunwald.

Using Leadership [+4] to lead the men in battle and attack the Grunwald estate. I am not merciful and instruct my men not to spare the lives of any but those who will be valuable as slaves, which the mercenaries can have to sell or fit their needs at their own commanders whims. The only thing I care about is that the wealth is counted up and given to the Thouroughby estate as follows. Precious metals, the Grunwald coffers, and any jewelry or gems is to go to Reginald and the rest is spoils of war for the mercenaries. Grunwald himself, all his sons and daughters, and his wife will be killed. No exceptions, after today, The Grunwald line is no more. I am leaving the Thouroughby estate guards there to guard the estate and only bringing Augustus and the mercenaries.


I am Communist
Apr 19, 2002

"Power flows to the one who knows how. Desire alone is not enough."


Cravos' face ticked with rage. The wizard would send a storm against him? He dared! "How dare DARE YOU!" Cravos was almost incoherent as his vision filled with hate. Hate for the unbent world, hate for the wizard who stood in his way, and hate for this storm.

He would have his warriors garb themselves in the skins of the beast, its scales like ten-fold shields. With its teeth sharper than swords and its claws like spears, his warriors would have unequaled protection and weaponry.

When the preparations were complete and the storms still raged, Cravos' eyes blazed with conquest. The Wizard had a minor fiefdom surrounding his tower, providing for his base and craven needs when such arose. "IF THEY DO NOT SURRENDER: Attack, Demolish, Devour, Burn. Grind them to DUST! Go forth and death be thy destination! Doom! Doom! Doom to the Wizard!"

Not all would survive but the most hearty and strongest of warriors and slaves. Cravos' forces would recruit from mercenary bands, fighters, sellswords and warriors as well as conscript men of steel along the way. His eyes shone feverishly as his forces began the march through the enspelled storm to the tower of Orion.

  • Using Wyrmskin [+2] to have the men fashion the skins of the beast into protective armor.
  • Having the men use the ultra-weapon like teeth and claws of the wurm into weapons.
  • Marching through the storm to the fiefdom to conquer/destroy it, then onto the tower of Orion.

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