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 Game Thread In the old books they refer to the old world as Earth or the Prime, to the world beside it as the Feywild. They tell stories of great kingdoms, of orders of chivalrous knights, of there being enough men in these orders to have sweeping battles over the land itself. It all seems hard to believe. The world as your fathers taught you is Feytiis, a world where the Material Realm of man and the Feywild were forcefully merged by the havoc of some great spell produced long ago. If there really was a world before the Green Merging it only exists in those old stories. A small fishing village sits on a beautiful green coast, isolated from the rest of the world for generations. Nellen. Here you've lived all your life and the same goes for your family. The bounty of the ocean is plentiful and the surrounding lands are well-forested, the land suitable for farming on a small scale. A river cuts across the West side of the village and everyone knows that running water brings good fortune, keeping many superstitious fey away. They also know that an old protection sits over the coast and that anyone who travels too far never returns. Sometimes travelers come to Nellen but they all settle into a tranquil life, never departing again. There are things in the world that are beyond the minds of all men, things that do not care for mortal standards, things that rise from a world flooded with magical energy and emerge as the dominant predators and lords of the green world. And now old Marco, the only man in the village with any knowledge of spells, has called to you young men and women. He says the protection over Nellen will fail soon, but he can renew it with your help. He will only ask that you cross the river to retrieve something for him... Chargen Recruit Open Until Friday 4/25 Dungeons and Dragons 4th Edition 5 Players, Play by Post 3rd Level, Point Buy 22 All Races and Classes are Acceptable but See Below Themes and Backgrounds: Yes, and don't worry too much about matching them to the setting Inherent Bonuses: Yes Bonus Feats: Two, you can spend them on anything(or take the usual Expertise + Defenses) No Dragonmarks Items: One Level 4, Two Level 3, One Level 2. 3 Mundane Items(No Adventurer's Kits, Up to 3 of Each.) No Starting Gold! I hang out in #letsbeheroes and have PMs. Flavor The starting setting encourages players to cast themselves as a young villagers recently reaching adulthood. The alternative is displaced travelers who may have stories from their past lives in the outside world, but have settled into Nellen's isolation. Martial prowess would be taught by your family or other hunters in the village. Magical prowess(Psionics/Divine/Primal/Arcane/Etc) would most likely manifest as a natural talent that may even be dangerous or shameful. Nellen has a single warlock, Marco, who would serve as a mentor. He's strict but fair, a humorless old Human who lives alone. He also acts as a lorekeeper, watching over the eleven random books that contains Nellen's sum of worldly knowledge. Actual knowledge of deities is strained at best, though the previous pantheon still exists. All worship is at best a 2nd hand account of something you read in an ancient book OR something your family passed down to you as "just our way." Any unusual classes might work, but they would need to keep the tone in mind. A Vampire would be a fairly weak and tame outcast at best. There are at least two Dwarven, two Halfling and four Human families in the village. Gnomes exist as fey-blooded Halflings. Elves, Half-Elves and Eladrin do not and represent fey-blooded Humans. Fey Races are acceptable but obviously wouldn't live peacefully in a village where they cannot control any unusual or dangerous traits. Other races would only come to the village as outsiders. They should have been at Nellen long enough to have established a comfortable living routine and be at least somewhat trusted. I'm hoping to not get an entire party of outlier races. If a race can be reflavored to "Human with some Fey/Elemental/Magical Blood/Influence", that works as well. Githzerai, Hamdryad, Goliath, etc. The world is infused with much greater amounts of natural magic than usual. Shifters can be reflavored as Bear-like or Turtle-like, or not. Lizard-folk/Dragonborn/Kobolds can be reflavored as Frog-folk, or not. They could also be reflavored as "Human with a bit of X" as above. Tieflings do not exist as they are presented in 4e: all Tieflings are a recent phenomenon from the last generation that came about when a group of radical Humans discovered a source of devil blood to transfuse crudely. Any Tieflings characters would be travelers or orphans taken in by the village and be second generation from the original. Your starting magical items probably represent valuable heirlooms. Or at least practical and dependable ones. Nellen has no economy beyond direct bartering. Picked Victe, Human Paladin by Trier Sully, Human Fighter by ArkInBlack Lerissa, Tiefling Blackguard by Classtoise William, Human Warpriest by Kurieg Alena, Eladrin Bard by LurksWithWolves Sariya, Hamdryad(Human) Witch by Knitted Art Doomykins fucked around with this message at 02:46 on Jun 6, 2014 |
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Apr 19, 2014 15:50
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This sounds super cool. Count me in! Will we be using an IRC room to communicate? Edit:  Victe Milner When my Dad died, he left me a suit of armor. When my Mom died, she left me a locket with a picture of two hands, bound by a red thread, and an inscription: "There are causes worth dying for, but none worth killing for." That's my God, right there. Ilmater, I called him, and he's kept me on the right path ever since. My parents are both gone, that's what I am to endure, that's what makes me cry at night, when my God demands my suffering. We all suffer, every single one of us, and it's in suffering we find peace with the world around us. It's in the cruelty of the world we find companionship in each other, and when we break, those we share our world with receive the blessing of compassion. Ilmater is the martyr God. He died for us, brought down because he taught us the secret to overcome all that we must suffer through. I have a book in the attic full of writings I've jotted down over the years. Self-made quotes that I think Ilmater would be proud to see I've written. Sometimes it gets a little too close to being a diary of the cuts and bruises I've gotten during sparring with my stepbrother, but I try to keep a semblance of what I think a religious text should look like. Sacred, solemn, and full of wisdom. I hope. I heard Marco was looking for volunteers to leave the village, I think I could be put to good use there. Everyone needs someone to receive the punishments, and Ilmater's blessing land with every blow I take. Trier fucked around with this message at 14:04 on Apr 20, 2014 |
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Apr 19, 2014 16:23
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 Kallas Zabat, The Zabat family is one of the families around town that provides food. Skilled fishermen from the youngest to the oldest - the matriarch of the family, Agatha, still collects nets full of fish even in her old age - all of them have some affinity with the elements one way or another which makes their work a little easier. Young Kallas, however, one of Agatha's grandchildren, has always been a bit of a dreamer. With an imagination wild and daydreams unbound, it seemed that such abundant creativity fostered his latent magic talents more than the rest of his family. Because of that, despite being reasonable at the fisherman's craft, Kallas has also adhered himself to old Marco to learn to harness his magical powers, which he does as a natural extension of his spear-wielding. So when Marco called for a few of his students to do him a favor, Kallas was the first to approach. Finally the chance for what might be a proper adventure! And if what they retrieve is crucial for the town's protection...it might be the first step to becoming a true hero.
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Apr 19, 2014 16:38
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Looks cool, will have something up later today.
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Apr 19, 2014 17:17
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Trier posted:This sounds super cool. Count me in! Yeah, #letsbeheroes on synIRC. Also added a small clarification to the items rules for mundane junk. Edit: Also clarified Divine power sources a bit more. Doomykins fucked around with this message at 20:07 on Apr 19, 2014 |
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Apr 19, 2014 18:30
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Draan and Kol,   Draan's parents washed up on shore on a raft with no food, no water, and no hope. The only things they lasted long enough to do were gasp out a warning about a great evil that lurked on the oceans, a great sea serpent that took a glee in tormenting and torturing its prey, and to pass the care of their infant to the village. Then, they passed on and were in time forgotten. The villagers tried to raise Draan as best they could, but all could see that the child was... odd. He bit the wetnurse, and then when he was old enough to eat solids, he refused everything that wasn't raw and bloody. His first words were lisped around fangs. The whispers grew- fey-touched! Monster! The sun burnt his skin, leaving him to cover himself, even on the hottest days. Monster! He found he no longer needed to breathe, diving deep into the river for whatever he cared to find. MONSTER! The village was relieved, for the most part, when Draan moved into a small hollow by the river, where there are always shadows. If you were to ask him, he'd smile and tell you that he's not bitter at all. He contributes the choicest morsels from his lonely hunts to the rest of the villagers, surviving on blood and scraps. At night, soft flute music can be heard drifting from the riverbank. He plays at contentment, and asks for nothing except to be left alone. The occasional villager complaining of a strange figure at their window, watching their family eat and play, is typically assumed to have been partaking of the interesting flowers that grow in the west. Kol A good dog. Best friend. Someone Draan found on one of his lonely river-hunts, injured and drowning and afraid. The only creature in the village that doesn't shy away when the boy comes near. K Prime fucked around with this message at 03:06 on Apr 20, 2014 |
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Apr 19, 2014 21:53
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Glara "Gadget" Cogwright The village shook as once again Glara dove for cover when one of her experiments exploded. It was an art form her father taught her. Well, at least he gave her the push but she did seem to have a sort of knack that she picked it up quickly. Yes, some things did explode once in a while, but she's had resounding successes as well. Glara isn't afraid to try out her inventions herself, sometimes with not so great results, such as the time she broke an ankle trying out a cape of slow fall she made. She has found that there are far too few hours in a day (though boy was trying to use those potions of everwaking a mistake! Nearly drove her insane!). She likes to move fast. After all, why walk when you can run? She made a crossbow that she uses for hunting. She also has her father's heavy wrench and an amulet that has belonged to the family for generations. Glara would sometimes go to the edge of town and just look out over the river, wondering what was out there. When she heard about the group going across the river, she jumped at the chance. She's going, invited or not. Foolster41 fucked around with this message at 07:32 on Apr 25, 2014 |
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Apr 19, 2014 22:10
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This sounds interesting, I'll roll something later today when I've got more time.
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Apr 19, 2014 22:10
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Lenan Spear-Fisher Lenan has been fishing all his life, nearly thirty years thus far. To be honest, he looks twice as old as he is, with wrinkled skin the texture of leather from exposure to the sun -- and his hair going gray starting at age 25 didn't help. But he's still out there in the delta every day, knee-deep in the shallows, spear above his head until a glistening silver target swims by his feet. He cleans his catch, sells what he doesn't need, and heads home to his wife and two young boys to enjoy a tobacco-pipe after dinner and a few minutes of woodcarving to ease himself to sleep for the night. Lenan can't be havin' with these kids wandering out of the village and over the river, though. Whatever stories that weird Marco put in their heads, it's probably going to get them into trouble. Lenan had better go with just to make sure everybody makes it back.
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Apr 19, 2014 23:19
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Hawk  Despite popular belief, not everything in the village was entirely as it appeared to be. Hawk knew this from as early age. He knew this because he was the strange thing in question. Well.... One of the strange things. You see Hawk was a fae spirit. A creature of many forms and much trickery. It could appear as human or beast or both (though that did tend to give the game away). It lived a simple life, hunting and fighting with the other animals as nature had intended. It wasn't until it accidentally got itself trapped on the wrong side of the river that it happened upon people. Which it shortly found to it's liking. It quickly concocted a disguise and presented itself as a lost chid. Orphaned after a tragic animal attack. Despite initial mistrust and misgivings Hawk was assimilated into one of the Human families and learned the fine art of hunting from his 'farther'. It was a skill that he excelled at, and when he was caught displaying some minor magical talent he was passed to the tutelage of Marco. Who he proceed to annoy the hell out of until he was old enough to start hunting on his own. Few in the village know Hawk's true identity and though Hawk has no fear of what may happen if news got out part of him wants to cling to the lie for as long as possible. Hawk's knowledge of the local area and a large area past the border have proven a boon to the village and now that he's approaching 'adulthood' he feels partly responsible to these people. It is a strange inclination to a Fae. But perhaps it has spent so long pretending to be human that it feels more attached to the mortals than it's true kin. Regardless, when old Marco called for volunteers, Hawk was one of the first to raise his hand. It they were to leave the border they would need him. The lands beyond were strange and dangerous and though he risked reviling himself he could never forgive himself if something happened to them.
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Apr 20, 2014 00:08
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 Kristin, the Sorrowful Huntress ( Kristin grew up much like any other kid in the village: trained in her parents' crafts and taught the old myths every weekend. Her father was a hunter and her mother a leatherworker, and so these were the professions she learned. Twice a week, she would go into the forest with her father and practice her archery, often on live targets. They would bring their kills home (the father brought deer and boars, and Kristin brought rabbits and other small animals). After the animals were brought to the butcher, she would sit with her mother, treating the hides and sewing them into armor for the town's militia and outdoorsmen. It was a hard and quaint but happy life. Kristin spent most of her free time in the forest. She climbed trees, chased squirrels, laid in the cool leaves and felt the wind in her hair. But as she reached her teenage years, a curious thing began to happen: a tingling feeling in the back of her mind accompanied the wind. It itched and scratched at her over the course of months until she realized what it was: a torrent of alien emotions, screaming against her own. The plants! The animals! She realized then that the crude beasts she'd been slaying, the brittle, delicate plants she'd harvested had thoughts and feelings of their own. On their next expedition, Kristin was withdrawn, avoiding conversation with her father and sitting alone in thought. Her father wrote it off as "a phase," but she confronted her parents about the sensation she felt once they had returned. Her parents exchanged worried glances, and her father ushered her into another room. As he closed the door behind them, she saw her mother, smiling sadly at her. They sat together for a few moments in silence before her father spoke up: "We'd hoped that you'd escaped this curse, but alas," he said, his voice quavering with sorrow. "Our family - my side, at least - has always had the power you speak of, the gift to commune with the wild. We have also always been the village hunters; none are more skilled than us. But it is not simply because of a knack or talent. We know the hearts of beasts, their basest instincts, and that gives us an advantage. But it also means that we experience the pain, the suffering, the misery of our quarry as they struggle to draw their last breaths." Kristin could not sleep that night; she tossed and turned, overwhelmed with a strange mix of relief and disgust. On the bright side, she wasn't going crazy! But she couldn't shake off the feeling that she was nothing more than a lowly, vile murderer. She did not join her father's expedition for several months, instead preferring to sulk alone on the edges of town. As time went on, her father became increasingly worried about his daughter's behavior. He eventually fell ill, stricken with grief over the curse he had passed to his child and could no longer hunt. Realizing that she would now have to take up the responsibility of keeping the village fed, she took up her bow again with newfound reverence for the creatures she slayed out of necessity. She comforted the animals that she so cruelly destroyed as their thoughts faded from her own. She was careful to only take the necessary parts from the plants, to avoid damaging their delicate systems. She made sure nothing from her hunting went to waste. She insisted the bone that had been so carelessly tossed aside in favor of metal tools be preserved and carved into dinnerware, arrowheads, and jewellery. She preached against the sin of waste to the rest of the village to mixed success; it wasn't long before most of the villagers tired of her, only half-listening or turning away altogether when she approached. When Marco called for her help, she gladly accepted, for if the protection over Nellen to fall, who knows what would happen to her beloved forests? Hashtag Yoloswag fucked around with this message at 01:47 on Apr 22, 2014 |
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Apr 20, 2014 00:29
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Dmitry Koslov, The Koslov family proclaim themselves to be the only followers of the one true God in Nellen. After all, they are the only ones left to practice the scriptures of Sun-That-Blesses, a deity whose true name was lost in the cataclysm that sundered the worlds. Dmitry, a pious youth, grew up on stories of the Sun's benevolence and was eager to accept the teachings of the tattered scrolls that his family had kept for generations. The other families in the village tolerate the Koslov's oddities due to their dedication to charity; the family does well enough for itself by supplying the rest of Nellen with the meat, hides, and milk of the goats they dutifully keep, and is usually the first to reach out a hand to anyone on hard times. One of the family's core beliefs is that one must fortify themselves in body and mind through a style of martial arts called the Solar Breath. This is done so that the faithful of the Sun-That-Blesses may defend themselves and others from harm. Dmitry, like all the others in his family, was taught these tactics so that he might gain further knowledge of his religion. He proved to be adept at the art, and soon learned how to wield daggers with an astonishing precision. On his 16th birthday, Dmitry received the title of Novice and was entrusted with the family heirlooms, like his father had been before him. Dmitry himself is a polite and reserved man. He speaks very little, but is kindhearted and tries to aid others as best as he can. Others in Nellen treat him as a sort of oddity due to the foreign religion he practices; while none despise him outright, most will make up reasons for avoiding the young man if need be. When not meditating, practicing, or herding, he tries to spend his time to helping the others of the village with their tasks. He hopes that these good deeds will eventually win the other villagers over to his faith in time. So far, he has had little success with that course of action. When he heard Marco's request for aid, he accepted immediately, despite distrusting the man and his strange magics. Even the pagans deserve help, after all. SunAndSpring fucked around with this message at 01:54 on Apr 21, 2014 |
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Apr 20, 2014 02:32
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 Xen'Graal, Rogue (Thief) Fear. Hunger. Loneliness. These were the first things young Xen felt when he hatched into the world. Where there should have been the dull buzz of a thriving colony, there was only an eerie silence. There was no sign of battle, no bodies left around. A search of the now abandoned colony produced only a handful of weapons and trinkets, but not much else. Just an empty village and a forgotten child, left to wonder what had happened to the home he never knew. And so began Xen's days of wandering, fending for himself against the odds. Beasts of the wild and malicious fey seemed to threaten at all times, though Xen survived with a combination of hiding, agility, and opportunistic assaults. Through his travels, he eventually heard tale of a place untouched by any form of ill fortune, the fishing village of Nellen. When he arrived, Xen could scarcely believe such a land existed. It seemed completely untouched by anything malevolent, a truly peaceful place. Though he was quite an oddity to the natives, most seemed to welcome him. At last, he had found somewhere to call home. After years of working and living alongside the fine men and women of Nellen, the last thing Xen would ever want is to see misfortune befall it. So when the elder Marco sent out his call for aid, Xen was more than eager to step forward to protect his adoptive home.
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Apr 20, 2014 02:50
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Hrm, we seem a bit light on leaders, let me fix that. William, In a world without history, books can be more precious than gold. Each one contains an untold amount of information that would be otherwise lost to the world of they fey. Nellen's library was a relatively modest but vital part of the city, not only was it one of the few repositories of knowledge from the world before, it also kept track of everything that happened in the city since it's inception. But a combination of superstition and apathy kept most people away from it. Who cares what exists in the world beyond if no one ever returns? Of course there are exceptions to every rule. William practically grew up in the library, every book, every bit of knowledge he could gather about the world, both old and new, he devoured. No bit of information was too trivial because, honestly, when you're the kind of person who spends every spare moment in the library, you have a lot of spare moments to spend in the library. Being able to recite the lineage of every Mayor that Nellen has ever had from rote memory does little to endear you to your peers, after all. Eventually he began to notice a pattern to the information, bits of history that were conspicuously absent, and some pieces that seemed almost deliberately false. Mysteries that begged investigation at each step of their unraveling. Hidden truths behind the lies, the more he dug the less he seemed to learn, but the more he knew. He had somehow gained an instinctive understanding of the nature of knowledge itself, and in doing so formed a link between himself and the last vestiges of the long dead God of Knowledge. Fortunately for William with the instinctive knowledge of almost everything came an instinctive understanding of how to use his newfound power. Being able to cure the sick and heal the injured forced William into the public eye a bit more than he would otherwise be comfortable with, but he was a priest now, of a sort, and needed to tend to his flock. Marco's summons just meant that he would have to follow his flock outside the city into the wilds, and no one knew more about the wilds than him.
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Apr 20, 2014 04:53
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^What's up, fellow book nerd? Roy, the Legend Seeker (Swordmage) Roy was born and raised in Nellen, but he was never satisfied with village life. Roy's parents were farmers, and he was always jealous of the children whose parents taught them to do exciting things like hunt or fight. Every day after finishing his chores on the farm, instead of playing with the other children, Roy would run to Marco's hut and spend his afternoons reading and re-reading the few books the village had. Roy was most interested in the books that contained stories of great and noble heroes, from an age long past. He dreamed of the day that he would embark on an adventure of his own. After several years of having nothing to read except for these few books, it occurred to Roy that an area mentioned in one the books, said to be the final resting place of a great hero, sounded suspiciously similar to the areas around Nellen. Acting on a hunch, he copied down the relevant information from the book and went searching, further into the forest than most villagers dared. His bravery and investigation was rewarded when he found the mouth of a cave, exactly where he had predicted. Inside, he found a worn statue of a man who perfectly matched the book's descriptions of the hero. And buried before the statue, Roy found a chest that contained what could only be the hero's equipment. After donning the armor, Roy found the true prize lying at the bottom of the chest: a sword, glowing from some strange magic. As soon as Roy put his hand on the sword, something within him awakened. A portion of the ancient hero's powers and knowledge were transferred to Roy, and he knew immediately that he had a greater destiny than the sleepy village of Nellen. Roy spent hours outside the cave that day, practicing with his sword. As if in a trance, Roy barely noticed the passage of the sun across the sky. Suddenly, he heard the unmistakable noise of someone calling his name and realized how late it had gotten. His parents had grown worried when he didn't return home, and had organized a search party. Roy knew that if any of the adults found him with a magical glowing sword, it would be confiscated, and he would lose his only chance to become a great hero. So he hid the sword and armor back in the chest by the shrine, and returned to the village to tell his parents that he had simply lost track of time. Roy was punished with extra chores for a month, but he still managed to find the time every day to secretly head to the shrine to practice his newfound powers. When old Marco asked for volunteers to cross the river and bring back something from beyond, Roy immediately volunteered. Now was the time to reveal to everyone in the village what Roy could do. Now, Roy's adventure was finally starting. Flame112 fucked around with this message at 03:57 on Apr 24, 2014 |
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Apr 20, 2014 05:09
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 Melkat, Every family in Nellen had their own traditions, passed down in yellowing tomes or ancient superstitions. But there was only one Storyteller; the one person in the village who kept all the old tales, from endless numbers of traditions, retelling them to the delight and education of all. Some children loved the tales so much they accepted the chance to study under the old Storyteller and learn all of the tales in all their permutations. But of them all, only one would be accepted as the next Storyteller when the old one dies. Melkat was widely assumed to be the next one. A middle child of three, he studied the ancient texts feverishly from a young age, and could faithfully recite a story after hearing it only once. He also touched upon the true mark of the Storyteller, taking the old stories and subtly altering them to teach a different lesson or present their events in a new light. This is the most important skill for a Storyteller, because a story that cannot change is a story that is already dead. In preparation for assuming the mantle of Storyteller he even shook off his family name, for in Nellen the Storyteller knows many names but does not have one of their own. But that was before old man Marco put out his call. The Storyteller called Melkat before him and told him many things. Their world was changing. Frozen time was beginning to thaw, and only by using the tales as their foundation could they survive the coming flood. She urged him to volunteer, for he would be needed. He protested; he could use neither sword nor bow, and would not touch Marco's wicked magic. He knew less of the wilderness than most, and was not especially athletic. How, then, could he defend himself? She chuckled but once and said through cracked lips, "The tales, boy. Use the heroes as your sword and their deeds as your shield. You will never want for another weapon. Now go." Still not entirely understanding the Storyteller's words, he volunteered for the expedition. He hopes only to survive and record the deeds of the others, and so for the first time in many years add a whole new tale to Nellen's oeuvre of heroism... TheArchimage fucked around with this message at 08:51 on Apr 20, 2014 |
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Apr 20, 2014 05:50
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You know what? I'm going to post this now so I can stop worrying about other people making a Bard while I'm not looking. (And then Archimage did and to hell with it, I'm putting this up anyway.) Alena d'Montaigne, Titles have power. The first Baron d'Montaigne knew that well. He was only a farmer then, but he knew what made the fey tick. He knew that if news of the original Baron of Nellen's disappearance spread every sprite in a ten mile radius would turn up on their doorstep to claim it. So he did what he had to do to keep the fey away from his village. He moved into the Baron's house, and he swore the Baron's oaths, and he took the Baron's title. He made sure the fey won't find any empty thrones in this village, not while a d'Montaigne still lives. It's been generations since then, and the d'Montaignes have kept themselves remarkably grounded. They're still farmers, same as they always did. They still haul their grain up to the mill themselves, same as they always have. It doesn't matter how decrees they have to sign or how many phony speeches they have to give before the real town leaders can speak. They're still the same salt-of-the-earth family they were all those years ago. Well, they're the same spiritually. Physically, that's another matter entirely. You see, titles want fey to hold them as much as fey want titles. It's nothing obvious, just a pointed ear here, a horn there, but every generation the d'Montaignes look that much more like something from the other side of the river. It's worrying, but the townsfolk still trust them. After all, it's not like any of them actually believe in that noble malarky... --- Alena is the only one in this family that actually cares about their noble title. Do her parents care? No, they just want to tend their crops. Do her brothers care? No, they just want to play. And every time she tries to act lordly, they all just get in her way. But she has something they don't know she has, and it'll help her in her noble duties one way or another. You see, she found the finest blade she's ever seen hidden under the floorboards in the attic. Sitting beside it were the finest clothes and the finest lockpicks she has ever seen. They're also the only lockpicks she's ever seen, but that isn't important right now. What is important is that they all felt right in her hand. That day, her mind was made. She will take these gifts fate has given her, and she will prove herself worthy of the title Baroness. To be honest, Marco's expedition is the first chance Alena's had to prove herself. That's why she's going to go on it. She hasn't exactly told Marco that she's going to go on it yet, but she doubts that they're going to say no to another sword.
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Apr 20, 2014 06:52
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 Sullivan 'Sully' Schmidt, Wrasslin' man The Schmidt family has always been the most martial bent family in Nellen as far as any one can remember. The family's always had a lot of kinfolk and they're all rambunctious and rowdy. Sully's known for being the most rowdy of the Schmidt's, being a brash and quick tempered lad, starting fights and drawing the ire of the town. Unwilling or unable to change Sully became a bit of a pariah, spending a fair amount of his time working the fields by himself. Until the day a raging owlbear came tearing through the town unexpectedly. While others ran to get weapons or the hunters, Sully charged the critter and wrestled it to the ground, keeping it fully occupied until help arrived. Clawed, battered, and bruised, Sully still walked away from the encounter, his prowess proven. Now with the community threatened, Macro has called on Sully to bring his strength and endurance to help get the materials he needs to renew the town's protection.
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Apr 20, 2014 07:43
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Petra the Demon; Acrobat, Swordsman, Liar Petra doesn't know her parents, but boy, does she hate them with all the hate she can muster. They somehow found a way to make her life a living hell before she was even born. What drew them to do something so goddamned hosed up as transforming themselves into terrible, sinister horned-and-tailed demon people? Was it a cult thing? Were they just really into goats? Whatever their reasons, Petra has had to live with the consequences. There was one old couple nice enough to foster the freak baby. They were kind, fair, and all of their own children were living their adult lives. They tried to raise Petra (and name they'd given her) well, but you know how children are. She was shunned throughout childhood and even into adolescence. Spent a lot of time by herself, and what else is there to do in a small village by yourself but explore? To explore, you have to climb, jump, leap, bound and hone all of the gifts your body grants you. It was in her teens when she learned to fight. In the beginning, it was just other local kids picking fights wherein she would avoid most of their strikes and punches until she could get in a few of her own. As she grew further apart from her peers, she became more and more interested in swordplay. A new thing to occupy her time, she'd already explored every nook and cranny she could as a child. Originally, she practiced with sticks. One day, she was found practicing in a secluded clearing by a hunter. Humoring her, the hunter decided to help her with her sword training, lending her an old small sword. The two grew closer, and her skills grew sharper, and the blades she became acquainted with grew bigger. As her skill improved with a blade, something else grew within her. Self-confidence. She became more outgoing, actively trying to make friends and get to know people, despite her deep-seated resentment issues. In that time, she got real good at lying straight to people's faces. No, really, she didn't hold a grudge about the years of ostracism and exclusion. Totally all in the past. Bygone are bygones! No, this nickname isn't degrading at all! She also became more flamboyant in her actions and appearance. A set of fancy old robes she found in a forgotten chest in the forest was a perfect first step; tasteful, but flashy and appealing. Her honed movements allowed her to take some artistic liberties when doing even the most mundane actions, but always around the others. When Marco came calling, Petra knew. This was her chance. It had to be. No matter what happened on the journey, it'd be an improvement. She could strike out on her own and start a new life away from the village. She could save the village and return as a hero. She could die! Even that'd be better than living in loathing. Alaois fucked around with this message at 01:49 on Apr 22, 2014 |
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Apr 20, 2014 12:37
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 Ma-Rokkan, called "Rock", Seventeen years ago, an old, gaunt, very tall woman with grey skin with jet patterns arrived at Nellen with a kid that looked three years old, but could barely walk. The woman, calling herself Ka-Sassa, claimed she escaped an attack on a holy site of her people with her grandson and asked to settle in peace. She took up residence in a small - especially for a woman her size - hut on the edge of the village, keeping to herself, the small garden, and the chicken coop in it. She took care of the child who turns out was still barely a year old, but the size of three year old. While Ka-Sassa kept to herself she encouraged the small Ma-Rokkan to mix with the village's children. It was hard for him, given he was twice the size of kids of his age and considerably slower than them, too. The children didn't accept him and played tricks on him and made japes about him. Rock, as they called him, did not really understand it at the time, but when he grew a bit older and did, he kept calm. He knew he was different and his appearance was frightful to others and tried to take his grandmother's advice to heart: always be kind, unless you're in real danger. Fortunately, Nellen was safe from real danger. Rock's kindness eventually paid off as the japes and jokes subsided and he came to be accepted as one of the kids. It helped that he was willing and eager to use his size and strength to help around town, lugging things, help building and repairing houses, and other assorted tasks. Marco in particular had need of his strength and had Rock assist him in keeping the ancient stone piles in the woods around town in order. The warlock claims they are part of an old magic protecting the village. Two years ago, Ka-Sassa died. It had been coming for a while as she couldn't take care of her little garden as much as she did in the past, ate less and became more gaunt than the already was. Before her death, she bestowed three items on Ma-Rokkan. The first was his father's weapon. She told him he gave it to her to keep until Ma-Rokkan was old enough to wield it as he was dying from his wounds. His father, she recounted, dying protecting a holy site their family had been sworn to from dark forces. His mother gave her an amulet she had claimed to be a charm of protection as she sent her mother off with her child. The third item came from Ka-Sassa herself. A large animal hide she had enchanted herself with the rituals of her people which she regretted to not having taught to Ma-Rokkan who might be the last of the Giant-Blooded. The revelations came as a bit of a shock to Ma-Rokkan. He knew that a grim tragedy had befallen his family, but his grandmother only told him the full story on her deathbed. After her death, he had plans to find that holy site or what was left of it, but after even Marco could not give him any sort of hint as where to start his search, he came to the realization that his people were the people of Nellen and swore that the least he could do to do his family proud is to protect them. So far, there has been nothing to protect them against except for some of the bigger wild animals in the forests around town. Rock had joined the hunters scouring the forest since his grandmother's death, but now that Marco needs help protecting the town, he is eager to make good on his promise. In fact, he is excited. An unusual feeling for the calm, reserved, and usually collected Ma-Rokkan. I made two sheets since the number of defender submissions was even lower than it is now when I started working on the character sheets. I'd be happy to play either version. I also need to make some minor additions to them, namely mundane equipment and checking the Inherent Bonuses box. frankenfreak fucked around with this message at 05:17 on Apr 25, 2014 |
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Apr 20, 2014 12:44
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Can I just say that I love all of the characters being suggested here. This village is full of awkward lonely teens struggling with their inner issues and their questions about belonging. And wrestling Owlbears. 
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Apr 20, 2014 13:10
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Hey, wrestling owlbears can be just as existential as musing on the realities of nature and pondering just how much Black is too much Black. Eric Dunnelm, Halfling "So you stick the key in here and turn it like so and the whole thing pops open safely. But if you were to do turn it like this the whole thing falls apart into a bunch of springs, like that. What do you mean put it back together? Uhhhh... Dad? Could you come help me?" When it comes to intricate work with someone's hands there was no pair better than the head of the Dunnelm family of Halflings. If a hunter needed a precise mechanism for a cage, inticate blades, a little bit of extra security just in case or even just a particularly fancy thing to attach to a front door the Dunnelm family were the ones to ask. It had been a tradition reaching back to before the family settled in Nellen, and continued right down to the youngest son of the family, Eric: the enthusiastic but jinxed lock-breaker of the clan. Eric would be the first to tell you that making things is not his forte, he made simple traps but anything more advanced just fell apart, much like any other mechanism he got "his grubby mitts on" as his father, Vickas would say. No matter how tough the lock, or robust the springs Eric always found a way to break through and dissemble it with a surprising amount of precision. This also translated to skill with a blade, defending himself against more hostile wildlife in attempts to retrieve the various things left in the woods, while he wasn't a lover of violence himself: prefering to talk and hide his way out of trouble, it wasn't exactly a secret that Eric could handle himself in a fight. Perhaps it was this skill that encouraged him to go out with his trusty blade and set of leather armour he used while working up to see old Marco, that Eric's destiny might be elsewhere, or at least somewhere where he wouldn't keep dismantling everything. (note, I get the Trapmaking kit for free as part of the Trapsmith theme, that okay to add to my mundane items?)
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Apr 20, 2014 17:06
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Manic_Misanthrope posted:(note, I get the Trapmaking kit for free as part of the Trapsmith theme, that okay to add to my mundane items?) That's fine. BTW I love all these apps. Please note as R^2 did that age isn't a strictly enforced thing and the village would have folks of all ages who might adventure.
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Apr 20, 2014 22:16
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Nyane Redthorn, Druid The Redthorns have been in Nellen for as long as anyone can remember, but they've always been a bit... odd. They don't live in the village proper, instead dwelling in a slightly ramshackle place built on - and partly into - a hill just outside of town. In the woods nearby is a circle of standing stones, a reminder of the heritage passed from mother to daughter, for the Redthorn women are druids. Their expertise with the natural world, and the fact that their sons and husbands have often been hunters, herablists, or apothecaries have made them indispensable to the town - but the touch of the fey is on them, which makes people nervous. The secretive nature of their rites and that they insist on living apart only adds to the distance. Still, Nyane's life is a happy one. Her father, Starkad, is a kind, if somewhat timid, man and the best apothecary in generations. Her mother, Alys, is much more strong-willed and has been training her youngest daughter her whole life to take up the mantle of the druids. But she has always been a warm, patient teacher, quick to encourage Nyane's interests and her independence. She's also never been lonely, despite not knowing the other village children and youths well, as she has five sisters and three brothers (four of them adopted). Still, she wishes the other villagers weren't so nervous around her family. If only she could show them they were - well, not just like them, but they weren't different in a bad way. As much as she loves her family and is serious about following the Redthorn legacy, Nyane has always dreamed about seeing a wider world. She loved stories about the world before the Merging, and often spent hours sketching how she imagined great castles and noble heroes and terrible monsters would seem. When Marco's call went out, Nyane jumped at the chance. Her parents were more hesitant, but in the end agreed that Nyane's talents would be valuable in such an expedition. After all, the Redthorns had always been the village's protectors in the wilds. And truth be told, they too wanted to know more about the wider world. So they whole family has loaded Nyane down with the heirlooms passed down from time immemorial, and made or bartered for good traveling clothes, supplies to sketch and record what she saw, and momentos to remember them by while she's away. Eager to realize her dreams and prove herself to the other villagers, Nyane is impatient to begin her journey. Comrade Gorbash fucked around with this message at 01:22 on Apr 22, 2014 |
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Apr 21, 2014 00:54
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 Sariya, the Winter's Daughter The only daughter of the warlock Marco and heir to his mystical power, Sariya came from an empty home. As her mother died on childbirth and her father spent most time away on secretive missions, she was raised by another human family on the village, whose fear of her magical abilities led to the girl be ostracized by her surrogate parents. That environment made her grow into an aggressive and lonely girl, who terrorized the other children of Nellen with her magical powers. In truth, however, Sariya only wanted the recognition of her absent father, whose adamant refusal to tell her about the death of her older brother and mother frustrated the young girl. Her outbursts of mischief and violence were a way that she found to get Marco's attention, only to apparently fail every time. But now as he looks for help to protect the village, the young Witch finally found a way to get the recognition she desires. Personality-wise, she is a distant and rude person who frequently tries to intimidate other people in order to get what she wants, but Sariya also has a more gentle side to her, and usually stands for those who also have known hardship. Plutonis fucked around with this message at 02:55 on Apr 26, 2014 |
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Apr 21, 2014 01:50
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FWIW since I think I forgot it in the OP, Stats are Point Buy 22.
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Apr 21, 2014 02:27
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Thank god for Icewind Dale 2, or I would've never found a decent picture for my character. Almost all the monks are either Asian or girls with their boobies out or Asian girls with their boobies out.
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Apr 21, 2014 03:19
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Victor Peligant Barbarian|Monk/Avenger  For as long as he could remember, Victor's father, Kelva, refused to speak of his past. All knew he was from the outside - and Victor heard plenty of stories of how his father came to the village, wounded and bleeding, swearing an oath to live peacefully until the end of his days if he was but granted a place to live. Slightly surly and with an odd accent, Kelva nonetheless ended up wedding one of the villagers and having Victor, putting his muscles to use at the mill, became a staple. But Kelva, for all his silence, has not forgotten his past. Every day for one hour, he trained Victor. Some days, Victor learned swordcraft. Somedays, he learned a strange, foreign language - one decidedly different from not only the village's tongue, but even the incantations of Marco. He's learned of the gods, some of whom have difficult to pronounce names. He was given the basics on how to survive in the wilds. As for himself, Victor took to all these lessons happily. There were few other ways to bond with the gruff, quiet father who keeps a roaring fire even in summer. When not learning, he was busy helping in the farms or at the river or even in the local tavern, never sticking to one job but always staying busy. Victor was a somewhat popular boy, not really standing out, but never acting antisocial (other then ferociously shy around the prettier girls). All the while, he yearned. All the training, all the lessons, they all had to be for SOMETHING. He loved the village. He loved living there. But he wanted to see what was beyond the woods. When Marco gave out the call, Victor didn't hesitate for even a moment. Before he left, Victor was given gifts. From his mother, a rather old set of hide armor supposedly built by his great great etc grandfather, when the village was founded. From his father, a single blade he himself had used before coming to the village. It is long, curved, engraved, and strange. When asked what the sword would do he was simply told he would find out. ProfessorCirno fucked around with this message at 00:34 on Apr 22, 2014 |
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Apr 21, 2014 05:04
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Kellan Steele, Human Slayer Kellan was born under a blue moon during the winter solstice as a twin-tailed comet passed overhead, and everybody was certain he was destined for great things, none less than Kellan himself. He had a happy childhood, trained by his father, a former adventurer, in the art of combat. He showed a remarkable affinity for weapons, as though he had some primal connection to the very steel they were made from. The only weapon his family owned, however, was his father's old gouge, a somewhat unwieldy, but deadly, armament, axe-like blades paired with a vicious spearhead. Kellan mastered the weapon before he'd seen fifteen winters, but wished he could have reason to put his skills to good use. Around town, Kellan was known as a friendly, if somewhat simple, lad. While his peers often seemed troubled or moody, as teenagers are wont to do, Kellan's mind was always happily vacant. Perhaps his martial training, emphasizing fundamentals as strongly as it did, left him with little concept of subtlety or nuance. Perhaps he was just not particularly bright. Regardless, he was considered quite easy to get along with, despite his rather violent hobby. Kellan's chance to put his training to the test finally came when old man Marco put forth his request. At last, he'd be the hero he always wanted to be! He didn't hesitate for a moment before rushing to volunteer, insisting that his burning warrior's spirit would not allow him to be denied. He'd defeat any villains that tried to prevent him and his friends from putting right what has gone wrong with the village, and he didn't really pay much attention to what exactly they need to do, but he'll definitely put all he has into doing it! EclecticTastes fucked around with this message at 03:03 on Apr 24, 2014 |
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Apr 21, 2014 18:13
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 Morthos A while back, not that long ago really, a generation, maybe two, a group of humans tried to gain power through rather questionable, and perhaps downright stupid, means. This group of humans had found some devil blood and they attempted to transfuse it crudely. With some predictable, and not so predictable results. Some survived. Some even passed on what had happened to them to the next generation. Nearly 18 years ago one such individual, a young woman, made her way to Nellen. The woman was an outsider, and had somewhat odd features, and many did not trust her or want her to stay. But she pleaded for sanctuary, and she was quite clearly pregnant. Her eyes were red, her teeth were pointed, and her skin seemed to be breaking out in a strange red rash. The people were reluctant to let her stay, yet did not feel right abandoning a pregnant woman to whatever had so spooked her. And so she was allowed to stay, though in a small hut on the outskirts of the village. A month passed, then two, and then she finally gave birth. It was a painful birth, full of complications, but in time her child let out his first cry in the cold morning air. Yet even as the child cried the midwife's breath caught. For while the mother was strange with her red eyes, red rash spreading across her skin, and pointed teeth, the child was all the stranger. His skin was red, not the red of a healthy newborn baby but rather quite a bit redder. No simple strange rash was this, no splotchy red, his skin was crimson. Upon his nearly hairless newborn head were two black nubs. And at the base of his spine was a small wriggling tail that wrapped around her wrist as she pulled the child free. The midwife was astonished, and perhaps more than a bit scared, but she knew her duty and raised the child up and brought him to his mother's breast. The mother, exhausted, reached out for her child, missed once, then twice, then her hand fell still. And the child cried all the louder. The stranger died, and some would say good riddance, but in her passing she left a newborn child. A child that seemed touched by the devils. Many thought the child should be killed, or abandoned, yet others felt a twinge of their conscience. If they could not turn away a pregnant woman, stranger and strange though she may be, how could they do the same for a newborn child that is innocent of whatever sins the mother may have been involved in? Eventually a majority was reached and the child was taken in. Given the name Morthos by someone, though no one could later remember on who came up with that name. A milk mother was found, and guardians were appointed. Not everyone agreed with the decision, and the child had to deal with some animosity and antipathy growing up. But grow up he did, living in the same small shack on the outskirts of town as his mother had for her brief stay. He was raised apart from the other children, for the most part. Occasionally he would be permitted to interact with them, carefully supervised, and on occasion one or another may have come to see him. But for the most part it was a lonely existence. Morthos had few, if any, friends. And as he grew older he saw less and less of most of the village, even those who had been his guardians. As his natural abilities began to manifest the villagers that learned of his capabilities began to grow frightened, wondering if they had made a mistake in saving his life and raising him, and so they turned to Marco. It was Marco who guided Morthos in his innate abilities, and Marco that Morthos spent most of his time with as he began to grow into a teenager, and eventually a young man. Now Morthos is seventeen, full of curiosity and a desire to interact with others, a wish that he can prove the villages investment in him was not in vain. And so when Marco calls upon him he is all too eager to answer.
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Apr 22, 2014 01:57
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 Saran, Avenger of Dol Arrah Saran had always been small for his age. This made playing with the other kids rather difficult, as he was unable to keep up and was more easily hurt. After once again being left alone as the other children ran off ahead, he turned to see he was in front of the old warlock Marco’s house. He never knew what possessed him to walk into that house, but it would change his life. He knocked and entered slowly. The old warlock barely acknowledged him as he came in, and when Saran asked if he could look through the old books, the old man simply nodded and pointed towards where they were found and told him, “Be careful with them.” He pulled a book at random from the shelf and started flipping through. Inside he found illustrations men and women gathered and performing strange rights and various symbols. He was just about to put the book away when he came across something that caught his eye. It was a symbol he had seen before. In fact, they had that same exact symbol in his house. He started intense study of the book, poring carefully over every page. The words were faded, many of the pages were damaged, and much of what it contained he could not understand. Still, he read on, trying to absorb as much as he could. He learned that the symbol belonged to a goddess named Dol Arrah. He learned the basic tenets of what she preached, and some of the basic rites. He would have been content to read on through the night, but he was interrupted when Malkor told him that it was time to leave. Saran asked if he could come back tomorrow, but the old man old rubbed his chin and let out a “Hmmmm.” Of course, Saran returned. He read over the passages on Dol Arrah over and over, until he knew them by memory. When he started to first manifest divine powers, he panicked, as now not only was he shorter than the others, he had strange powers. Marco calmed the boy down, and told him that he would help him learn to control it. Despite being a warlock, he knew enough to help young Saran hone his abilities somewhat. Over the years he continued to train with Marco and read the old book. But there was one thing he never told anyone, not even Marco. He could see the goddess in his dreams. Or at least, she claimed to be the goddess. He had no real frame of reference as to what she looked like, but she looked… godly. And for some reason, he believed her. She would rarely talk, she simply listened to what he had to say. Over time, she became something of a confidant to him, and a source of comfort when his self doubt got the better of him. When Marco asked him one day to go with some of the others on an errand, Saran initially rejected him, to afraid to head out of the village. When he talked to the goddess that night, she told him to go. Saran was stunned, as the goddess had barely spoken before, and never had she given him an order before. Saran could only nod and say, “Okay.” And so the next day, he went to Marco and agreed to the errand. He told his parents his intentions, and they simply nodded and gathered many old family belongings to protect him on his journey, including the symbol of Dol Arrah. And so it was that Saran, Son of Faran, a boy only barely 15, set out on an adventure he never expected to go on, commanded b a goddess he barely knew, to a place he had never been. Clutching the holy symbol for protection, he set out with the others from the village.
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Apr 22, 2014 02:42
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 Lerissa Metzger, Usually, the birth of a child is a happy occasion. And it began as such, in the Metzger household, as the young couple held hands. "Victor, I can already tell. Our little Lerissa will be beautiful." Marco, the village Warlock, scowled in response, keeping his silence as he oversaw the event. Such a small village made it easy to visit families upon the birth of a child. But tonight he seemed pensive. A twinge of pain wracked the would-be mother, and she clutched her belly in horror that something was wrong. "Xephira, is something the matter?" The young woman winced and shook her head, "She's...stronger than I expected," a wary smile crossed her lips, "One last kick to let mama know she's got her hands full." The cries of a newborn child filled the air with joy, followed quickly by unease, and a blood-curdling screech. "What's wrong with my child!?" Xephira demanded, holding the swaddled girl, making apparent the pointed horns that were beginning to protrude. Family and friends scattered for texts of times before the Green encroaching. One offered an answer, telling of children cursed for ancestors transgressions. Ogre-blooded, as they were called. The children would grow big and powerful, with untold fits of rage that would lay waste to entire cities. Though many argued this was likely myth, none were willing to risk it. They could not very well throw their child into the feywilds for fear of retribution both by their daughter and the townspeople, but all the same they feared her strength. They raised Lerissa to be a kind and gentle girl, but her great strength and temper were always apparent, especially as she slowly began to tower over her family. But, all the same, she had never struck any of them out of anger, and though their fear was ever apparent, she was a great boon to have around the village, lifting things that others might find too cumbersome. Still, Lerissa was no fool. She watched as they cowered, keeping their distance as she worked and ate. Occasionally, a fit of rage would cause her to smash a table or shatter a door, but never harm another. She did her best, but when even your family was terrified of you, it was hard to keep calm when things became overwhelming. She grew, with the family careful to plan their days around her. Worry and fear always wavering their voice as they spoke with her. Except her father. Though Victor was just as fearful as the rest, his voice had more of a tone of respect. They grew closer, with Lerissa feeling he was the only one of her family that truly cared for her. The subject of the barrier was broached, one afternoon, while the pair chopped wood. "Y'know, Kiddo," her father grunted between hefts of the axe, "Marco's lookin' for some help." He rested on the axe for a moment, as Lerissa continued with considerably less effort, "He needs some young people to go across the river." Her axe stayed planted in the log. "You want to get rid of me, then." Victor knew better than to let his fear show through. It only exacerbated things. He spoke carefully, choosing his words wisely. "I didn't say that." "Then why suggest a task that makes me leave the village?" She clutched the hilt tight. "Because it'll prove what you know...what I know. That you're not some kind of monster, Lerissa. You can show the village you aren't some disaster waiting to happen. Besides, I've seen the way you swing that axe. Marco knows, too, I'd guess. There's more to your power than muscle. We've got a few family heirlooms you can take; a necklace blessed by some Eladrin priests, some chain mail and a much sturdier axe. You're a big girl, Marco will be lucky to have someone like you workin' for him." She smiled wide, finally hearing the sincerity and love in his voice that she longed for since she was a child. Lerissa scooped her father into a hug, and spoke softly. "I'll make you all proud, Dad." On her day of departure, even her mother looked sad. The small family gathered as she hefted the axe over her shoulder, and headed towards Marco's hut. She would prove to them all, she hoped, that she was more than a cursed accident waiting to happen.
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Apr 23, 2014 21:58
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 Serena Teno. Harmonious Veil of the Brilliant Night Sky, Invoker of the Moon Goddess Sometimes, on a clear night, the moon's reflection in the green waters of Feytiis seem ever so brilliant. Sometimes, it looks as if one could simply grab the moon from the surface of the water. What causes such delusions, to think a man could pull the moon from the sky, even as a joke? Be what it may - on one night, eighteen years past, a man succeeded in pulling from the moon upon the sea. Or rather, the man pulled a child from the moon, a tiny newborn with eyes the color of the night sky, that stared up at him. No sign of sickness, of weakness, not even of being wet - a true oddity. What encouraged the man to keep the child was a mystery even to himself - though he insists it was a blessing of sorts. A poor fisherman, Adrian Teno had already lost his wife years before he found the child, with no children of his own. Perhaps that is what encouraged him to adopt the child into his home, to replace the emptiness of his heart. Each night the moon's rays upon her seemed to make her glow - Adrian insisted to the village that she was simply a bit fae-touched. The girl, named Serena after the serene waters that she had been found under, proved to be quite hyperactive and friendly. By a year of age, she would happily babble at anyone who'd listen, which continued into her being able to talk - her father often claiming that she talked simply to hear her own voice. Neither the most graceful nor the strongest, Serena was an active child none the less, often running around with other children, pretending to be heroes or trying to climb trees (which she was never very good at.) Indeed, it was in these years that the girl began insisting that her name was not Serena at all - she was the hero of the village, Harmonious Veil of the Brilliant Night Sky, and she'd bring justice and safety to everyone! Some of the other parents and her friends humored her, but a majority simply told her to grow up. The real surprise for Adrian came at Serena's 13th birthday, when he told her the story of how he found her for the first time. Expecting a shock or for the girl to disbelieve him, she simply nodded, telling him that she already knew she was special, and had all along. It was soon after this when her powers began to manifest - as the 'hero of justice' chased down a man who had stolen some bread, she found the light welling in her 'ray of moonlight' (an old white wooden staff), and with only a thought it shot to the man, sending him falling to the ground, jolting. She was a risk, according to the elder, and was placed out of her father's care and into being forced to study with the village warlock, Marco. Even the learned old warlock could not figure out where exactly her powers could have come from - they were not primal, and thus fae, in nature, nor arcane. Harmonious Veil, as she insisted was her real name still, insisted that she were a hero sent to the village from the moon, and recounted the tale her father had told her - scoffed at and told to grow up. She never did - but she did have the small bit of proof that her own body provided - she stood taller than a majority of the boys her age, let alone the girls whom she dwarfed in size. The discovery of her powers did not help encourage her to become more active however - and so she remains unfit. Harmonious Veil of the Brilliant Night Sky studied happily and learned to direct her powers in safety, but she always insisted she was a hero sent by the woman of the moon to protect the world. Be it petty criminal, beast, monster, or evil fae, she happily believed she would punish them for harming the village. A constant smile on her face as she gripped her staff and ran through the streets. So when Marco called for aid to the village, she was quick to volunteer.
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Apr 24, 2014 02:15
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Applications will be accepted until 1 PM Eastern on Friday.
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Apr 25, 2014 04:16
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 Solstice, Shifter Seeker/Ranger In the primal age, long before even the kingdoms and wars spoken of in the few books Nellen has to its name, there was still the wild. Beasts that ran free and endlessly across the vast forests, birds that nested in the trees, and fish that swam through the pure and undiluted oceans. Even in those days, there were beings above others, just as a King would be to his people. They were the great guardians of the forests, and where they walked even the fiercest predators bowed their heads. Unfortunately, a world ravaged by war, magic gone awry, and a million small cases of isolation hasn't been kind to that great lineage. Where once there was a mighty stag, that could outpace a cheetah and outfight a lion, now there's only a confused and slightly odd young woman by the name of Solstice. Her mother had been the 'guardian of the forest', and her grandfather before that, and her great-grandmother before that, but the details of what that means are lost on her. Even her mother hadn't seemed entirely sure, when she was still alive, and it was illness that brought her low, not some great evil or mighty foe. Unsure of what else to do, Solstice mostly spends her time sitting in her cabin in the woods, occasionally wandering out to make sure that nobody's hunting just for the sake of hunting. Nobody ever is - they know well enough not to waste one of their only food sources - and so Solstice generally winds up making awkward small talk. Rumors from her great-grandmother's day - talk of a beautiful woman with antlers and eyes the colors of the forest - have turned into bland facts. 'I ran into that forest girl again today, she loaned me some arrows when I ran out. She asked how you were doing.' Casual mentions over the dinner table, instead of exaggerated stories told over the campfire. Still, something within her keeps her dutybound to the forest, even if she feels a lack of purpose. The forest is her home and her calling, after all, what sort of guardian would be she if she abandoned it? Popping into the village during the festivals is more than enough town life for her blood, and on the rare occasions she does get to do something significant, she feels a warmth within her that's more than just the satisfaction of a job well done. So when word of Marco's request reached her ears, she was more than happy to appear (completely uninvited) and volunteer. Not even just for the forest's sake, at that. She was part of the village, after all, in her own little way. She couldn't live with herself if she let such nice people risk their lives when she could be helping.
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Apr 25, 2014 04:43
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Finally got around to finishing and posting my submission.
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Apr 25, 2014 05:17
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I updated some of the character stuff more. I feel like I have a pretty good idea in my head of what the character's like, though my description was pretty sort.
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Apr 25, 2014 07:35
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Picked Victe, Human Paladin by Trier Sully, Human Fighter by ArkInBlack Lerissa, Tiefling Blackguard by Classtoise William, Human Warpriest by Kurieg Alena, Eladrin Bard by LurksWithWolves Sariya, Hamdryad(Human) Witch by Knitted Art surprise 6th slot Whew. I had to do a lot of Sophie's Choicing here after my initial trims left me with 9 favorite apps. Congrats to those that got in, and to those that didn't I'd like to suggest y'all band together and make some more 4e PbPs! It's really popular and I got 20+ apps her with tons of great ideas I'm sad I couldn't take(but not so sad I want to run a huge party or more games at once!  )Thread'll come later today. I'd like to suggest those picked make Combat Blocks, ask any last questions they want to fit into the setting and as a favor to me, describe their families/living arrangements if haven't already(if you have, summarize!) Parents alive/dead? Orphaned/adopted? How many brothers and sisters(remember, these families plan for survival!) Scrapping by in a cave, sleeping in a tree, built your own log cabin, pulled together the ruins of a manor? I could also use your Ages. For Knitted Art, I'll give you some stuff to work with: Marco is a single dad and you're an only child. An older brother died before you were born. Conversation about mom or bro upsets Marco.
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Apr 25, 2014 18:35
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William's 15, an only child, and while his parents have a house he's rarely there because houses don't have bookspre:William HP: 38/38 (THP: 0) AC: 19 Passive Insight: 20 Surges: 10/10 (V: 9) For: 18 Passive Perception: 15 Initiative: +5 Ref: 15 Action Points: 1 Speed: 5 Will: 19 Melee basic attack (Bastard Sword): 1d20+6, 1d10+1 damage At Will Encounter Daily Brand of the Sun [ ]Use Vulnerability [ ]Nimbus of Holy Shielding Blessing of Knowledge [ ]Channel Divinity [ ]Resurgent Strength Singing Strike -Smite Undead Items -Knowledge to Spread [ ]Luckblade [ ][ ]Healing Word [ ]Brooch of No Regrets [ ]Sudden Inspiration [ ]Thought Twister [ ]Inspired Steel Items [ ]Bold Victory Armor [ ]Second Wind Conditionals -Resist 2 against Area and Ranged attacks -Allies get +1 shield bonus to AC as long as William Wields a Shield -When William uses healing word, each ally in the burst gets +1 to next saving throw before EOMNT -Target of Healing word gets +2 to all defenses until EOMNT
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Apr 25, 2014 19:14
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| # ? Apr 25, 2024 23:24 |
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Victe Victe Milner is the 19 year old daughter of Karthen and Allire Milner, who both died within a short time of eachother when Victe was 7. Her mother died of pneumonia, following a particularly cold winter, and her father died of a lonely heart a few months later. Since then she has been raised by friends of the family, the Larengs. Two human parents, living in a comfortable two-room cabin by the river,and a rowdy son who has been instrumental in helping Victe learn how to fight. pre:Victe HP: 45 (THP: ) AC: 22 Passive Insight: 19 Surges: 10/10 (V: 11) For: 17 Passive Perception: 14 Initiative: +5 Ref: 15 Action Points: 1 Speed: 5 Will: 18 At Will Encounter Daily Divine Challenge [ ] Divine Pursuit [ ] Paladin's Judgement Ardent Strike [ ] Strength From Valor Vengeance Strike [ ] Divine Strength Holy Strike [ ] Guardian's Counter Lay On Hands Utility: [ ] Virtue [ ] Second wind Conditionals: Virtuous Recovery: Spend a healing surge, get +3 resistance to all damage USONT Mighty Challenge: Target of divine challenge takes damage from it, cause +4 extra radiant damage Devout Protector Expertise: While I use a shield, allies get +1 shield bonus to AC
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Apr 25, 2014 19:16
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