|
Wanted Dead or Alive: The Goldpalm Prince "Alright, alright, alright, settle down you 'orrible lot. Job's come in with an official Guild seal on it. This one is legitimate, you get papers and everything. Alright! Settle down! If I have to raise my voice one more time then I'll rip it up and wipe my arse on it, allright? Good. That's better. Seems like The Goldpalm Prince has finally stolen from the wrong person and there's a bounty out of his head big enough to attract real attention. For those of you what don't know, The Prince isn't so much a thief as a force of nature. He loves stealing more than most people love anything. More importantly, unlike most thieves he seems to inspire a sense of duty and honour in others, so his gang haven't turned him in themselves yet. The details are all in the packet, as well as your lead for tracking him down, I took a peek myself, as I am wont to do, and this one is juicy! Could have some fun, maybe a few laughs. Oh, and before you start yawning and rolling your eyes because I'm sending you to go catch a thief instead of a dragon or an ogre or whatever else you limp dicks think you're capable of, may I remind you that his majesty The Prince is not averse to slaughtering and maiming in the name of a bit of gold or whatever else he takes a fancy to. Contract has it written in ink so fresh I can still smudge it. Wanted: Dead or alive. Let's start the bidding then, shall we? Who wants it?" - Blind Pete of The Guild of Adventurers. The game Welcome to Wanted: The Goldpalm Prince, a sequel to my other bounty hunters game. In the last episode a bunch of bounty hunters working for the guild, infiltrated the castle of a recently resurrected necromancer. With the help of the necromancer's sister and servant, the hunters were able to gather the four fragments of his earth-bound soul and bringing him back to full strength, then put him back in the ground.  You are a small gang of mercenary types working for the Guild of Adventurers. Guild certification separates you from the crowds of charlatans, tomb-robbers, cut-throats and ne'er-do-wells who roam the country doing the same thing you do. Most people aren't going to be happy to see you when you roll into town, but they're also very unlikely to slit your throats and hang you. It's not impossible, but it's very unlikely. Your small gang happen to win the bidding war for the contract and set out to find and detain The Goldpalm Prince. Game will be a one-shot that might last anywhere between a month and three depending on how it goes. My current posting schedule is likely to be Monday-Wednesday-Friday but if you guys post more I will try to keep up. The bounty hunters Make a level 2 character to go out and find The Goldpalm Prince. Submit a picture, character sheet and brief bio. In addition to the normal stuff, I'm stealing a concept from 13th Age. Your character sheet must have a heading for One Unique Thing, something that separates your character from every other adventurer in the world. It should be interesting and open up chances to roleplay or for me to add suspense. "I am the only dwarf who can fly," is bad. "I am the last dwarf of my tribe," is good. "I am the only dwarf from my tribe who cannot fly. I was forced to flee the tree-houses of my homeland as the new highpriest declared me an affront to the sky god," is great. - Looking for 3-5. - Game is play by post. - All playbooks accepted, but I do have a fondness for the originals. - Game will be a mixture of action and roleplay. - Reskin whatever you like. - I will take submissions for the next five days or so depending on response. Long recruitments are the worst. Any questions, just ask. Happy hunting.
|
#
?
May 21, 2016 23:01
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 24, 2024 09:09 |
|
|
Considering a Lumanary Adept Just wanted to run it by you, because it's a kinda complicated playbook, and want to make sure you'd be cool with it.
|
|
#
?
May 22, 2016 00:27
|
|
|
Holy poo poo, return of Indigo! All right if I app or are you tired of me? e; Have an idea for a paladin brewing. slydingdoor fucked around with this message at 04:12 on May 22, 2016 |
|
#
?
May 22, 2016 02:23
|
|
|
 IT'S ALIIIIIVE! You know I'm down. (Unless you don't want Hunters vets re-apping.)
|
|
#
?
May 22, 2016 02:28
|
|
|
All are welcome apply with whatever you like.
|
|
#
?
May 22, 2016 07:05
|
|
|
This is sounds fun. I might have an idea for a Spellslinger.
|
|
#
?
May 22, 2016 12:59
|
|
|
 æ I, æ, am the last earthbound knight of my order: the Shining Glyphs. Generations were trained from birth to become heroes on earth, and then ascend to the frontlines of the eternal cosmic battle between the ethereal beings, as Einherjar. When we were ready, all went through a final trial of The Dark. We took a new form of our choice, were given money, and told to live, and sin, for it would be the only way we would be able to know it and resist it in the coming war. Celestials were so bound to their Word they would not bend, but they would break. Ascended mortals had neither such power nor such limits. In the darkness, we were free from the everpresence of the gods, their guiding hands and their watchful eyes, and our knightly duties were not only suspended, but forbidden. We had to learn how to "die" as heroes before we could truly live like humans. At the end of The Dark, when we were finally called, we were to choose: either answer the call, truly die, and arise as Einherjar, or choose to stay and live out our lives as mortals. No one chose to stay. Neither did I. While I was in The Dark, a powerful sorcerer who divined my origin–and, thus, destination–bound me to the earth with the same incomplete spell of eternal life it used on itself before its purification at my hand. Thus I was punished by fate for breaking the vow against vows by standing up to evil when that was the domain of the Shining Glyphs. Now, given but a shadow of the power promised to me by the death-maidens, given out of what I can only assume to be pity, I seek and defend the Tombs of the Einherjar, in which their ashes are interred with their holy arms and armor, which they donned before their rapture to signify their decision to arise and serve. The Goldpalm Prince has raided one before I could find and defend it–that of Rho, the arrow-catcher. They accumulated many pockmarks and went through many a gauntlet, needing one both quick and strong, before mastering the ability to catch or deflect any number of missiles fired within reach and step. Ach, I should put it in terms they understand and are less likely to mock. Ahem. In short, I am Ash, the "Paladin" who got "trapped" on earth during "Rumspringa" for trying to be a "big drat hero" instead of "messing around" learning how to sin like the "gods" "told me to." Now I keep my dead friends' stuff safe in their graves or on my person if it comes to that. quote:Name Other notes I was thinking about doing: having æ be somewhere in between the dark and being a shining glyph, so when going on a quest the unchosen vows are implicitly mandated. No vow against honor means a vow against honor, so cheating and using trickery and poison and such; no temperance, getting wasted, stuffed, and/or laid; no piety, no praying (that one will be rough); no valor, fraternizing with the neutral and evil; no Truth, bluffing and deceiving; no hospitality, punching down. That kind of thing. But still the other vows because still at least half a knight. slydingdoor fucked around with this message at 18:48 on May 26, 2016 |
|
#
?
May 22, 2016 20:57
|
|
|
 My name is Amaruq. I once had other names-- a lover-name, a clan-name, a shaman-name-- but none are left with the right to speak them, and so Amaruq I am, Amaruq of the one name, Amaruq alone. You do not know the land I call home, except perhaps to call it "north." But that word, in your tongue, is a mere direction, not a place. In my tongue, my land was called "the place (where white land meets grey sea) where the Tusked One and the Ice-Bear meet in blood." My tongue is one which expresses much with little, which perhaps is why you think me laconic. Regardless. My land no longer exists, so it matters little what you call it. The Ice-Fathers returned to take what was once theirs, in the long ago, before the sky-god and the fire-god birthed my people and sent them into retreat. Their advance was slow, but inexorable, and many refused to believe it was happening at all. As the years wore on, the shamans tried sacrifices, and the wise-women tried wielding fire, but neither availed. Some fled, but many could not, for the journey was long and hard, and beyond our small valley the land was harsh. Few could survive it. Most died. I, perhaps alone, survived. The spirits of the frozen lands are my allies, and the cold meltwater runs in my blood. I came first to continue the long struggle of life, and this I have done. I came second to warn the folk of these strange, warm lands, where green things grow beyond sheltered nooks and water falls wet from the sky, about the Ice-Fathers, but you laughed at me. Fair enough-- I laughed too. And perhaps you are right that the Ice-Fathers will not reach here for many lifetimes. Perhaps we are even too far south for them to reach at all. I could not say. I do not have many of the skills the greenfolk take for granted. Your written words I can now read, though I still find the mode frustrating and confusing. My folk's picture-script is much more natural to me. Your tongue is clunky and awkward, though I have learned it, also. My closest friend, Nanuq the ice-bear, whom I brought as a cub from the frozen lands, you find frightening. Believe me when I say that compared with his kin, he is as affectionate as a puppy. Nonetheless, I am not without skills of my own. And I have learned that you have a clan made up of those who are skilled in traveling, fighting, surviving, and doing much with little. This clan, this "guild of adventurers," seems a good fit for me. And this task they are asking, to hunt down the one who does not respect the customs of the land, that seems a good task. Even those who kill and take must have respect for custom. And if in so doing, I keep myself alive another day, month, year, then all to the better. For within me is the memory of an entire people, and that cannot be allowed to die. quote:Name: Amaruq Quorum fucked around with this message at 23:07 on May 30, 2016 |
|
#
?
May 22, 2016 22:55
|
|
|
 I've been down this road once or twice before, and let me tell you, it don't always go as smooth as the Babel job did. When a job goes bad, people die. Ever heard of a city called Hol? Mm-hm. That Hol. We lost a lot of good people in Hol. I was part of the first team Petey here sent in, the one meant to nip that bitch Jenna Hakkan in the bud before...well. God. Just...I don't like to talk about it. We hosed up bad, okay? People died. My friends died. But I didn't. Been a long time recovering. I've got so many burns and scars after that colossal fiasco that it's a miracle I'm alive at all, let alone still able to walk, and even that with a cane. Without Hertz here, I don't know if I'd even be able to do that. He's...all I have left of an old friend. Somebody I lost in Hol. I might've hosed up but Blind Pete took me back in anyway. Gave me a new name and a new face. Not much left of the old one anyway, and I'm better off without it. I've seen more poo poo than you can imagine, and even lived to tell about it. Stick with me and maybe you will too. quote:Neria Jane (and Hertzsprung) Alumnus Post fucked around with this message at 15:39 on May 28, 2016 |
|
#
?
May 23, 2016 00:19
|
|
|
WIP Angel Pendragon - The Wordsmith  Life, had not been kind to the young miss Pendragon. It wasn't kind to many people, there was no denying that. But every tragic back story is always more tragic to the person who experienced it. That's how it's supposed to go, isn't it? I tell you something tragic, your heart melts a little, and you think 'what a brave girl, how inspiring that she'd rise to face such adversity'? Well, honestly, I'm not all that tragic... oh, I am forgetting the whole Words thing. That's kinda tragic, oh and the thing that happened to my brother with the gauntlet! Ah drat it. Okay I'm starting over. Hi, I'm Angel. I'm, uh, sort of a god? No wait, that sounds terrible. Uhhh, I'm gifted with the fundamental powers of creation? I've been given the power to use the Words, the language of the Gods. The one which they made the world with. At least, that's how it's been explained to me. I was born up in a small town, a trading post for the local villages and farms. It wasn't a bad place to grown up. We lived on the coast, so we got fresh fish, and there were forests and mountains nearby, and so many caves! Life was pretty straightforward. It was just me, my brother Peter, and Father. Mother... passed away giving birth to me. I don't think Dad ever properly forgave me. He just... got quiet when he started thinking about mother. Then he'd start drinking. One day he just disappeared. We hoped that he'd come back. But as days turned into weeks. We knew we needed to do something. The little money we have was quickly running out. We tried to seek the aid of the townspeople, we offered everything we had. but none would help. Only a strange passer by would speak with us. They offered us one hope. An old temple, hidden in the deep forests where none from the town dared to walk. It was a hell of a risk. But we were desperate, and out of options. So we made the pilgrimage, to ask the Gods of old for aid. Everything was going well, we were on the cusp of the temple. We were so close! Then Peter got his arm torn off at the shoulder by an ambush from Ickthal Hunter lizard. You know the ones that grow up to 15 foot in length and can out run a horse on open plains? Well, that. We barely got inside of the temple doors. Peter was dying, I was panicking, I was just screaming for help. Any kind of help. That's when the light appeared. It was so bright it hurt. Like it burnt just to be touched by it. The gods spoke to me. They told me that they could save my brother. But there would be a bargain. There would be a cost. I was far beyond caring at that point. So I agreed. I still wonder if that was the right call. They fused a metal arm into Peter's shoulder. It grew into his body, becoming one with it. Inside of it was a dragon, it LIVED within the metal. Swam through it, even emerged it's head through the metal of his shoulder plate. It taught him to access it's strength, to morph his body to take on Dragonic forms. It was both terrifying and beautiful to watch. But my brother was alive! Me? They gave me their words. A book, which they said was a lexicon, containing the entire language with which they formed the world with. I looked upon it, and they filled me. I can see them. They describe everything. I can alter them. Change things, I just need to reach out and do it. The problem is, that the Words were never meant for mortal forms, and some of the pronunciations are just... bizarre. Have you ever tried speaking not in sounds, but in images? It's really uncomfortable. I can feel them changing me. The stronger I get with them, the harder it is to relate to the people around me. I'm worried that they're trying to make me one of them. Whatever they are, these old gods. Is it a gift or a curse? I honestly don't know. Never did find my Father ether.... quote:Name: Angel Pendragon - The Wordsmith Arashiofordo3 fucked around with this message at 20:50 on May 24, 2016 |
|
#
?
May 23, 2016 00:24
|
|
|
How long are you recruiting for? I'm interested but I'm also out of the country and away from my computer this week
|
|
#
?
May 23, 2016 03:38
|
|
|
 Ambergris, the Thief A product of the scummiest, nastiest back alley in the world. Filled with a low cunning and bereft of anything approaching higher learning or courtly manners, Ambergris makes her way in life dealing with the worst sorts of people and doing the ugliest kind of work. Any job considered too dirty for her companions to properly acknowledge is best pawned off on Ambergris, who will happily fulfill it with a skip and a smile. Curiously naive and unjaded, considering her profession. Got any family? Hardly what I'd call family. We lived in the slums, and I didn't own proper shoes til I beat a snotty little noble boy an took his boots. Mum spent most of her days inna brothel earnin coin so me da could drink and gamble it away. When I were five, I got put to work as a scullery maid, and me old man made it clear he expected me to join the back rooms meself when I was older an support him. Model citizens, aye. What is your most vivid childhood memory? First time I took a baf. Were maybe seven, got got by a constable when I were skulking around the fancy districts, figgered me for a pickpocket right away. Affer he told me off, the ol' bastard dragged me to his home and tol the wife to heat up a tub. Mean ol' lady tosses me right in and scrubbed me down. Yowled like a tomcat the whole time. Were kinda nice to not have me hair stickin to me head, though. Even went so far as to gimme some old clothes what their boy was too grown up to wear. Sent me along with a warnin, and me old man whopped me good for thievin the one time I didn't. Anyway a few years later that ol' constable got shivved in a alley. Found the guy wot did it and I still wear parts of him on me belt. What's your greatest regret in life? Nah stabbing me old man sooner. Next to that? Missin his 'eart. What's your relationship like with your family these days? Got any friends? Me da's busy gettin lost in drink and cursin me name, and ma's busy makin more bastards and too mad from the syphilis to notice or care where I got off too. Most of me acquaintances are fillin graves or prisons these days. The rest have scattered to the winds and hardly what I would call "friends" besides. What's your favorite thing in the world? You'd think money or drugs or drink or sumfin, right? Nah. For me it's sittin up somewhere away from everyone and jus havin some peace and quiet for a change. Everywhere I been it's nuffin but noise all day, all night. Can't nobody jus shut up for five minutes. What are your goals for the future? Where do you see yourself? Short term? This job...heh. Grew up hearin' stories 'bout the Prince. You name, he done it. And I'm gunna be the one that makes him eat mud. Take everything he's got and leave him wonderin' how in the Hells an upjumped guttersnipe ever got the best uv him. Long term...I could see meself on the arm a some rich person what buys me expensive chocolates n jewelry n clothes n makeup n such. I mean I like me work, whether robbin folk or doin whatever me band needs done but there's somethin to be said for knowin where your next meal is gonna be. Gotta be some fancy noble out there whats keen to share a bed with a dumb knife rat. How did you spend your pay from the last job? Bought this fancy knife what flips open and you can do all kinds of tricks wiv it, just flashy as can be. Set me back a pretty copper but even Gretchen looked impressed and don't nuffin about me impress her much that I can tell. pre:STR 09 (+0) INT 08 (-1) DEX 17 (+2) WIS 13 (+1) CON 12 (+0) CHA 15 (+1) DMG d8 ARMOR 1 HP 18 Alignment Neutral - Avoid detection or infiltrate a location Race Human - You are a professional. When you spout lore or discern realities about criminal activities, take +1 Look Shifty eyes, messy hair, dark clothes, lithe body One Unique Thing The Gods cannot see me GEAR Dungeon Rations (5 uses, 1 weight) Leather armor (1 armor, 1 weight) Bloodweed (touch, 3 uses) Short sword (close, 1 weight) Butterfly knife (hand, 1 weight) 3 throwing daggers (thrown, near, 0 weight) Adventuring gear (1 weight) Mysterious silver necklace Load: 5/9 Coin: 10 BONDS TBD pre:Starting Moves Trap Expert When you spend a moment to survey a dangerous area, roll+DEX. On a 10+, hold 3. On a 7–9, hold 1. Spend your hold as you walk through the area to ask these questions: • Is there a trap here and if so, what activates it? • What does the trap do when activated? • What else is hidden here? Tricks of the Trade When you pick locks or pockets or disable traps , roll+DEX. On a 10+, you do it, no problem. On a 7–9, you still do it, but the GM will offer you two options between suspicion, danger, or cost. Backstab When you attack a surprised or defenseless enemy with a melee weapon, you can choose to deal your damage or roll+DEX. On a 10+ choose two. On a 7–9 choose one. • You don’t get into melee with them • You deal your damage+1d6 • You create an advantage, +1 forward to you or an ally acting on it • Reduce their armor by 1 until they repair it Flexible Morals When someone tries to detect your alignment you can tell them any alignment you like. Poisoner You’ve mastered the care and use of a poison. Choose a poison from the list below; that poison is no longer dangerous for you to use. You also start with three uses of the poison you choose. Whenever you have time to gather materials and a safe place to brew you can make three uses of the poison you choose for free. Note that some poisons are applied, meaning you have to carefully apply it to the target or something they eat or drink. Touch poisons just need to touch the target, they can even be used on the blade of a weapon. • Oil of Tagit (applied): The target falls into a light sleep • Bloodweed (touch): The target deals -1d4 damage ongoing until cured • Goldenroot (applied): The target treats the next creature they see as a trusted ally, until proved otherwise • Serpent’s Tears (touch): Anyone dealing damage to the target rolls twice and takes the better result LVL 2: Connections When you put out word to the criminal underbelly about something you want or need, roll+CHA. On a 10+, someone has it, just for you. On a 7–9, you’ll have to settle for something close or it comes with strings attached, your call. Shardix fucked around with this message at 09:43 on May 31, 2016 |
|
#
?
May 23, 2016 16:19
|
|
|
Darlington Rose - the Spellslinger Level: 2 XP: 0 HP: 23/23 Armor: 1 [Note: I can never find good pictures for characters. I don't recommend putting "magic cowboy" into an image search either, unless you really like horse shampoo.] A gruff looking man sits at a table of to the side of the room. He is dressed in an old cotton shirt and rough traveling pants that cover high topped leather boots. There’s a hooded leather mantle that’s embroidered with roses. The mantle is worn and its color faded. “Hrm? Yes, I’m Darlington Rose of the Oannian wand craftsmen. You might know me for something else though. Most folks don’t much care to know where I came from. I appreciate the interest,” he says taking a drink from his glass. He speaks with a voice like sandpaper. “Y’see most folks coming from Oannes aren’t exactly sociable to outsiders and they don’t much leave the town neither. I’m no social butterfly but staying in one place like that just ain’t for me. I still make the trek out there from time to time. My family’s known for the wand makin’ and they always need some new and unique materials.” “My wand? Well it’s my pride and joy. Made it myself, y’know? Ain’t it a buet?” Rose says holding up the wand. It is made of driftwood from the Sparkling Sea (famed for its magical properties), coated in a clear glossy lacquer made from moontree sap and his own blood (as is tradition), and wrapped in leather made from a chimera’s hide. It has various jewels and gemstones at its end bond in thick silver wire made to form rose bush-like patterns, and is about a foot and a half in length with slight curve to the handle. “You won’t find another like it,” he adds. “Yeah.. Some folks call me “Snarlin’ Darlin’” or just “Snarlin’” for short. Don’t much care for the nickname but I suppose it suits me,” he says pointing to his rugged face. “It keeps most folks from botherin’ me at least. Most folks anyway. Every now and then I gotta deal with some upstart… Well I’m gettin’ ahead of myself.” “I signed with the Guild about… oh… 3 or 4 years ago. Seemed a good fit. I needed money and they needed capable folks. Little did I know that one of my first bounties would get me such notoriety. I assume that’s why you’re here, eh? Come to see man who took down Big Buck Stanton? Well I’ll tell you the tales aren’t true. But folks don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story,” he sighed. Rose sat for a moment remembering the truth behind the tale. Soon after he was hired by the Guild, he and some others had the opportunity to take one of the most infamous bounty heads, Big Buck Stanton. Stanton had killed at least five other groups of bounty hunters from the Guild and was known for his particularly vicious methods. Undeterred the young group set off to the small valley Stanton used for a hideout. What they discovered was not what they expected though. It turns out that Stanton had been protecting something. Some sort of artifact of immense importance according to the bounty head. It looked like a chalice or bowl. Rose had never seen anything like it. He still remembers the gentle low hum of magical energy it gave off. After a brief skirmish, and despite being the clear victor, Stanton called a truce. He informed the young bounty hunters what was going on and explained how tired he was of being chased. He gave them a choice, to join him and leave or die. Rose offered him another option. He would take Stanton’s prized golden bracers as “proof” that Stanton was dead, and then allow him to flee. Stanton agreed then disappeared that night with his gang to places unknown. Rose hadn’t told much upon his return other than that Stanton had been dealt with. The other two bounty hunters who were with him gave Rose all the credit then quit soon after. He hasn't seen them since. Officially all members of his group and Stanton were considered dead. The papers concocted quite a vicious tale of the incident and painted Rose as a violent cutthroat. He's not sure he made the right choice in any of it, but it's all in the past now. “Well, if you don’t mind, I ought be off. I’ve got some new business to attend to.” He finished his drink and left. quote:Name: Darlington “Snarlin’ Darlin’” Rose D_W fucked around with this message at 21:13 on Jun 4, 2016 |
|
#
?
May 23, 2016 16:58
|
|
|
The Lark "Why yes, I do wear my own face today. Do you like it? It is it not too worn out around the edges? Ah, I know, I have others that are much nicer. But this one, it is my own. Can you blame a man for sentimentality? How did I get to be like this? Well, that is another story, and stories are my stock in trade! What's that? They told you I dealt in lies? Well, yes! Of course I do! What is a story if not a lie undressed? And what is a lie but a story with purpose? That is what I told him, actually, those very words. Who? Why, Hapnir himself! That's right, the God of Tales! You know him, with his striped cloak and his tall hat and his scarf around his face. Hapnir isn't like the other gods, no of course not! He walks our roads and creeps through our villages, sniffing out new stories and writing them down in his Everbook. Or maybe it's the other way around, maybe he writes things into being, scribbling down a bit of drama that will become someone's life, and then he lurks around to see how it all works out. Who knows? Gods, aye? So there I found myself one night, sharing my campfire with the Storylord himself. Can you imagine! He took exception to my little comment about stories and lies, as he thought that all stories where true, somewhere, at some time. Now I shouldn't have argued with a god, but I had been quite deep in my cups when he appeared and couldn't leave well enough alone. So to punish my arrogance, Hapnir leaned over the fire and jabbed me with that pen of his. Then he leaned back, opened up his Everbook, and with my own blood scribbled out my name. So you can imagine how I felt then! All of a sudden, I didn't have a name! I didn't even have a history, not one I could keep straight from all the stories I already had in my head! 'There,' the god told me, 'now you shall understand the difference in truth and lies.' And then he left me. Since then I've made my way in the world as best I can, though I've found myself somewhat...adrift, metaphysically speaking. Hapnir scratching my name out of the Everbook seems to have made me somewhat malleable. I can change my face and make others see the things in my mind, make them real for just a moment. However, by mixing my own life story with all my stories, I no longer know what is true or not in my own life, and while I try to figure it out, I know that I must have left something important behind... If only I could remember what it was." quote:The Lark, the Masked Mage
|
|
#
?
May 23, 2016 20:47
|
|
|
Love a lot of these dudes. Questions incoming tomorrow.
|
|
#
?
May 24, 2016 18:56
|
|
|
Okay added in my sheet. Just need to work out my stat allocation and I'll be sorted. Short of any background expansions.
|
|
#
?
May 24, 2016 20:46
|
|
|
 Valarius DeMontefayne "What do you mean you've never heard of the DeMontefaynes?!" exclaimed the robed figure, wreathed in fabric and drenched in incense. "Why they used to rule these parts! They had castles that towered over these lands, ever watchful. I think the biggest one was called 'Doomkeep' or at least something like that, it might have been in the old tongue though... still! You'd think someone'd remember them." the figure said, their voice dry and hoarse, but surprisingly energetic, their visage entirely hidden by their garb. "Well then, let me educate you on this fact. The DeMontefaynes were said to have the 'blood of silver' running through them, it is said they could touch the hearts and minds of those they faced with but a glance... and... you're not the right person I'm looking for at all. Good day. Also you're probably right, your wife probably is cheating on you." they simply said, before hurrying away, oddly quiet. Once there was a man known as Valarius DeMontefayne, a young scion of his line, born with gifts of the mind, as befitting his blood. But because he was born late, he wasn't considered the heir, nor for the clergy, nor even for the ritual of T'Fa-Qir. Given this relative freedom he took up adventuring, if only out of boredom and thrill-seeking. This worked well in his favour for many years, he trained his talents, caving in goblin skulls with but a glance, and working with a group of adventurers known as The Obsidian Scales, named after their (rather egocentric) leader, a half-dragon named Gyrant Tozzielificarir (the surname being of his draconic parent, of course). However, during a particularly dangerous delve, into the Temple of Hated Stone, at least two other members of the party were killed by various traps (one by a sphere of annihilation that was set to orbit in weird spiral patterns, another by some sort of strange time magic-based trap), it was only left to Gyrant and Valarius, and the treasure chamber containing the sacred idol, the centrepiece of the entire ruined temple. Long story short Gyrant betrayed Valarius, netting the idol and leaving Valarius trapped in a tiny stony chamber, about 10 feet square. Although airflow was not a problem, food was going to be. So calmly and fully focused, Valarius sat down in a meditative position and meditated and waited, trying to use his great powers to allow him to bypass this trial. He failed, well sort of. His powers of the mind didn't do jack poo poo, at least in the end, sure he focused his will so he couldn't feel pain and he slowed his metabolism down and all that, and that would have helped had he only been in there a few weeks, maybe a few months. But centuries weren't really going to work for that, however during this entire time his mind was focused on one thing: Killing Gyrant and taking his scaly head and mounting it on Valarius's wall. His killing intent focused to a singular point. Centuries later when another group of adventurers broke through the walls that had entombed the psion, he rose to greet them and thank them for rescuing him, but they fled and ran. (Presumably they had too become weary of all the bullshit that the temple had laid upon them.) Concerned by all this, Valarius found an old, still-functioning water fountain and peered into the pool it created. Turns out he didn't survive that! But his will to continue, his will to get revenge had empowered him by another means, he had become undead. The world chilled by his touch as his (now cold) desire for revenge literally froze things around him. So he set off from that temple, looking absolutely terrible (something he rectified soon, through scarves, bandages, and masks), but reinvigorated by his thirst for revenge. Luckily his target was a half-dragon, so he was in fact still alive by this point, albeit rather elderly. Still, Valarius stole into the bed chambers of Gyrat, having snuck (or struck) past the guards consisting largely of Gyrat's dragonblooded children, and came upon the dying and ancient half-dragon. And crushed his skull then and there. Having left (and started a fire, for all that it's worth), Valarius felt... discontented. He had gotten his revenge, but perhaps it was too late to truly count for it? Maybe it wasn't enough? Going after Gyrat's entire bloodline would be time-consuming and tiring even to an undead horror, since it seems the half-dragon couldn't keep it in his pants over the centuries. Then a thought crossed Valarius's mind as he meditated on these troubling events. Perhaps Gyrat had given him a blessing in disguise, sure not enough of a blessing for Valarius to go back and try to make amends for any of the poo poo he had just done, but enough to not try anything more drastic towards Gyrat or his descendants. Perhaps the truth was transcendence, just as Valarius had transcended such a feeble existence as being alive, so believe the ancient psion that this was merely the first (or second, I mean becoming a psionicist is surely a transcendence in of itself) step on the path to greater things. By marrying his psionic puissance and the power that comes from undeath he had become greater than the sum of his parts, but this was not enough. There had to be something beyond what he had become, something without weakness, perhaps even without form. Who knows? But Valarius was intent to find out! Unfortunately finding out would take time, money, and probably the opportunity to further crystallise and focus his powers. Adventuring seemed a natural way forward for that, and being undead he could probably survive any trials that this might involve. The Guild of Adventurers seemed like the right sorts towards this end, and hey legitimacy means presumably they're less likely to be as back-stabbing as that (now dead) rear end in a top hat Gyrat. So here we are. pre:Valarius DeMontefayne, Psion
Look: No Eyes, No Hair, Disconcerting Smile, 'Sculpted' Body
STR DEX CON INT WIS CHA
12 9 13 16 16 8
+1 +0 +1 +2 +2 -1
Damage Armor HP Load Level XP
d6 1 19/19 5/8 2 0
Race
Restless Dead: Draugr
In Death Sustained: You don't need to eat or drink and are not affected by poison.
If a move tells you to mark off a ration just ignore it.
Turned from Life: You must Defy Danger to enter consecrated ground or resist being
pushed back by a strongly presented holy symbol.
Draugr: Your chill touch makes frost appear on objects you touch. It does not cause
damage but can temporarily paralyse creatures with fewer HP than twice your level or characters
who fail to Defy Danger.
One Unique Thing
Not only do I still have my soul... I've started gathering other 'free' souls like a magnet. I am worried
where this is going to end.
Alignment
Chaotic: Upset a relationship to see what happens.
Bonds
Ambergris has something I once owned.
Amaruq's soul is so bright it almost hurts to see.
Darlington Rose is my distant kin.
I suspect Amaruq is afraid of me.
Ambergris reminds me of my long dead lover.
Starting moves
Expanded Consciousness
When you reflect on the interconnectedness of all things, lose your remaining focus and
gain 3 focus. Your maximum focus is 3. You may spend focus, one for one, to:
• Manipulate small objects, no heavier than weight 1 and no further than Near range, as
if with your own hands.
• Establish telepathic contact with someone you touch, skin to skin, for up to an hour.
• Have a brief vision of the imminent future, as if you had Discerned Realities and asked,
"What is about to happen?" Take +1 forward when acting on the answer.
Telekinetic Strike (WIS)
When you attack with telekinetic force, roll +WIS. On a 10+, deal your damage.
On a 7-9, deal your damage, but choose 1:
• You expose yourself or an ally to danger.
• Something near your target is destroyed by the blast - the GM will tell you what.
• You're overwhelmed with psychic feedback, stunning you for a moment.
Your Telekinetic Strike is a weapon with the tags Near, Forceful, and Messy.
The Heart's Sorrow (WIS)
When you look into someone's heart in search of a secret, roll +WIS. On a 10+, choose
two. On a 7-9, choose one:
• The secret is presented with greater context.
• The secret is something you could possibly know otherwise, however unlikely that
might be.
• The secret can easily be used to gain leverage for Parley.
Peer Through the Veil
You perceive phenomena invisible to mortal eyes: visible manifestations of emotions,
astral creatures which prey invisibly on mortals and signs of great and terrible things yet
to come. You have little choice in what you see, but you can interact with these things as
well as you can interact with anything else.
Advanced Moves
Touch of Agony
Your body is a weapon and shares tags with your Telekinetic Strike, except at
Hand range rather than Near range. When you Hack and Slash with this
weapon, you may roll +WIS instead of +STR
Gear
Dungeon Rations (5 uses, 1 weight)
Bandages (3 uses, slow, 0 weight)
A memento of someone once dear to you. A petrified rose, the last gift my love gave me before
my last quest alive.
Leather armor (1 armor, 1 weight)
Sturdy divination instrument (close, 1 weight)
Adventuring Gear (5 uses, 1 weight)
Herbs and poultices (2 uses, slow, 1 weight)
Infinite Oregano fucked around with this message at 15:22 on May 31, 2016 |
|
#
?
May 24, 2016 21:12
|
|
|
 Gregory has fought in many battles and marched in many campaigns. Through it all he has grown weary of the needless blood shed for selfish nobles and corrupt politicians. Violence only seems to beget more violence. He retired from military service and wandered the Earth hoping to help people in need. The day he left the military he commissioned a smith to fashion a chain attaching his sword to its sheath. He carries this sword on him so that he may always feel the weight of the violence that marked his early life. Gregroy is a kind and light-hearted mountain of a man. Always looking out for those smaller and weaker than him. Often protecting the commonfolk from bullies of all kinds. Despite not drawing his sword he will bring his massive shield to bear to protect any who need it, all the while trying to bring about a peaceful resolution. While passing through this town Gregory heard of a thief who indiscriminately kills those who oppose him. Gregory has found himself in the company of a small group of adventurers who mean to arrest this man, and while they seem like a rough bunch, they are better than many he has fought beside. Perhaps through his involvement he can work to minimize the carnage. So, for now he will work with this group to arrest this Prince so that the Prince may be brought to justice and atone for his crimes. pre:Gregory the Gallant Level 2 XP: 0/9 Look: Kind Eyes, Bald, Fit, Bulky Body Damage: d10 Armor: 3 HP: 26 Stats: STR 13 (+1) DEX 8 (-1) CON 16 (+2) INT 9 (+0) WIS 12 (+0) CHA 16 (+2) Drive: Compassion Endanger yourself to protect someone weaker than you. Background: Unquestioned Honor When you Parley with a GM character, you may make a vow in place of giving concrete assurance. If you break this vow, take -1 ongoing until you somehow atone. Bonds: TBD Moves: From A World Of Iron You ignore the clumsy tag on armor you wear. Sacrifice (CHA) When you touch someone, skin to skin, and willingly take their burden, roll+CHA. On a 7+, 1d8 of their damage or one disease or debility is transferred to you. On a 10+, the damage, disease, or debility is cured instead of transferred. Valiance (Valor) When you enter a dangerous situation, lose all previous Valor, then answer the following questions: • Am I Acting to protect another? • Are the odds greatly against me? • Am I acting without the expectation of a reward? For each “yes,” gain 1 Valor. Spend 1 Valor to take any of the following actions: • An obvious and intimidating display of authority • When you would deal damage, deal your damage +1d6 • Take no damage from a single blow • Ignore any penalties you would take on a single action • Gain a flash of divine insight Impassioned Speech (CHA) When you make a passionate plea for someone to do what is right, roll+CHA. No matter what, those around you feel the pure virtue which guides your words. On a 7+, the target does what you ask or those around you feel the powerful injustice of their refusal. On a 10+, anyone affected by the move will evangelize the righteousness of your request to others they meet. Kindness When you make a request of a hireling in a personal and polite manner, take +1 to the Order Hirelings move. Level 2: Idealism (Valor) Add the following questions to those you answer when using Valiance: • Am I making a reasonable attempt to avoid violence? • Am I acting within the law or in the service of a higher ideal? Gear:(Load 7/13) Scale Armor (2 armor, 3 weight) Long Sword (close, +1 damage, 1 weight) Shield (+1 armor, 2 weight) Mark of Faith (0 weight) Adventuring Gear (5 uses, 1 weight) 
EnjoiThePureTrip fucked around with this message at 18:42 on May 26, 2016 |
|
#
?
May 26, 2016 17:05
|
|
|
I did a bunch of edits with lame songs and possible play patterns and detail changes and such.
|
|
#
?
May 26, 2016 18:49
|
|
|
Captain_Indigo posted:Love a lot of these dudes. Questions incoming tomorrow. we killed the campaign before it even begun. i'm sorry guys. i'm sorry ╱▔▔▔▔▔▔▔╲╱▔▔▔╲┈ ▏╮╭┈╮┊╭┈╮▏▉┈┈▉▏ ▏┊╱▉╲╮╱▉╲▏┈┈▍▕┈ ▏╯╲▂╱┊╲▂╱▏╱▔▔▔╲ ╲╭┳┳╮▕▋╭▂▏▉┈┈▉▕ ┈▔▏┣┳┳┳┳▏▕┈▃┈┈▕ ┈┈▏╰┻┻┻┻▏▕┳┳┳▕▔ ┈┈╲▂▂▂▂▂▏▕▂▂▂╱┈
|
|
#
?
May 27, 2016 22:52
|
|
|
Alumnus Post posted:we killed the campaign before it even begun. i'm sorry guys. i'm sorry RIP peperoni and chease
|
|
#
?
May 27, 2016 22:53
|
|
|
We all came up with characters that are too good for Indigo to choose from. A lot of us went with the "sole survivor" thing for out One Unique Thing too, huh? D_W fucked around with this message at 23:41 on May 27, 2016 |
|
#
?
May 27, 2016 23:32
|
|
|
D_W posted:A lot of us went with the "sole survivor" thing for out One Unique Thing too, huh? There's a whole dumpster of other Weird Bullshit floating around for me from the earlier BH campaigns, but I didn't want to mention it for reasons
|
|
#
?
May 28, 2016 04:57
|
|
|
Hey now mine was left behind after the rapture. The rest of the people are in deep space fighting cthulhus, or in heaven fighting demons, as nephilim, diablo 3 style I was going more for "the only dwarf who cannot fly, and cleans up all the dwarf poo poo under the tree as PENANCE." The rest of you though, for shame.
|
|
#
?
May 28, 2016 05:12
|
|
|
Changed mine around a bit so it's not so sole survivor-y.
|
|
#
?
May 28, 2016 06:47
|
|
|
Was unexpectedly exiled on a ~course~ for three days. Questions in a few hours, picks in a couple of days. We're still on  .
|
|
#
?
May 28, 2016 09:47
|
|
|
D_W posted:We all came up with characters that are too good for Indigo to choose from. Well, Infinite Oregano is more of a "soul survivor" 
|
|
#
?
May 28, 2016 10:18
|
|
|
I'm sticking with the sole survivor thing.  Though mine is set up so there could plausibly be others!
|
|
#
?
May 28, 2016 12:53
|
|
|
Blind Pete has questions for everyone. æ: seems to me like this whole business must be a bit beneath you mate. Don't get me wrong, I get why you want after The Prince, but why you wasting your time working for The Guild when you could be out there being one of the big boys slaying dragons and The Demon That is Reborn? Sidenote: gently caress me, the Darksouls mashup is brilliant. Amaruq: word in The Guild is that someone had to take you aside for a 'quiet little word' after your last piece of work for The Guild. What did you do wrong then, eh, you naught boy? You take something you weren't meant to? Let a target go? Or was this some cultural misunderstanding? NERIA: Alright love, how you doin'? You feelin' alright? Got a place to sleep this week? There's a room upstairs if you need it, mate. We look after the ones who get hurt. What was your last meal? Angel: Quite a story young lady. Whatever happened to your brother then eh? Ambergris: Me and you probably grew up walking the same streets, though I would have been all growed up by the time you was walkin' them. I know from experience that quick hands like yours get snapped up by the gangs sooner or later. But sounds like you avoided that and got to steal mostly for yourself. How come? Darlington Rose, Snarlin' Darlin', fancy seeing you here. Funny you should turn up just as I hear your name being whispered so much. Why would the likes of a big hero like you be interested in a little job like this? The Lark: Your a man of many faces, though none of them are beautiful as your real one me old mucker. Tell me mate, which is your favourite face? This one or something special you leave lying around? Valarius: Are there any other loose ends from before your 'new birth' that you need to tie up, my skeletal friend? Gregory: Alright, tough lad? You always seem so calm and peaceful around here, always so quick to be polite rather than throw a punch. Some things must rile you up though, eh? Put some fire in your blood, right? What makes you lose your temper? What makes you snap?
|
|
#
?
May 28, 2016 13:28
|
|
|
Captain_Indigo posted:Amaruq: word in The Guild is that someone had to take you aside for a 'quiet little word' after your last piece of work for The Guild. What did you do wrong then, eh, you naught boy? You take something you weren't meant to? Let a target go? Or was this some cultural misunderstanding? There are some things I do not understand about your land, and perhaps I may never understand, no matter how many times I see water falling from the sky and food growing from the ground. In my home, meat was too precious to be wasted, and it was considered an honor to eat of the flesh of a fallen spear-brother-- in that way he lived on within those who fought beside him, and from his death came life. In your land you consider it foul, and bury or burn your fallen brethren. Burial I could understand if you planted food as well, to continue the cycle, but you set aside land for burying men and plant only trees and flowers. And burning? That seems a great waste of both meat and fuel, for men do not burn easily. Still, these things you have explained to me, and your customs I will keep, no matter how strange I find them. Your greenlander gods decree this, and so it will be. Even Nanuq I will keep from eating the dead, if they were friends in life. That is the most I can promise.
|
|
#
?
May 28, 2016 16:16
|
|
|
Captain_Indigo posted:Blind Pete has questions for everyone. "Well now, that is a definitely interesting question. Hmph. I once had a lover you know, when I was alive. Her name was Rhoanna, she even gave me this now-petrified rose as a gift when we last met. At least the rose has survived throughout the years in some way, I should really make an attempt to find out what happened to her. By now though I would assume she's long-dead. Other than that I think I am technically the heir to a kingdom or a great fortune or something along those lines, but the trick would be finding anyone who would recognise these claims, let alone even know about them whatsoever. Another thing that I should perhaps chase up. It's strange isn't it, when you're alive you charge about trying to do this and that with utmost speed, but once immortality of a sorts is yours suddenly there's no need for speed, and haste evaporates entirely. I should be careful about that."
|
|
#
?
May 28, 2016 16:42
|
|
|
Blind Pete posted:æ: seems to me like this whole business must be a bit beneath you mate. Don't get me wrong, I get why you want after The Prince, but why you wasting your time working for The Guild when you could be out there being one of the big boys slaying dragons and The Demon That is Reborn?
|
|
#
?
May 28, 2016 17:34
|
|
|
Captain_Indigo posted:Darlington Rose, Snarlin' Darlin', fancy seeing you here. Funny you should turn up just as I hear your name being whispered so much. Why would the likes of a big hero like you be interested in a little job like this? "My unwavering sense of justice," Rose said sarcastically. He didn't much care for Pete. Something about the man just got under Rose's skin. "But really, I ain't gonna make a livin' sitting on my rear end, am I? Maybe when this prince of thieves hears such a 'big hero' is after 'im, he'll just turn himself in," Rose's tone came out a bit more hostile than intended. "Ah, I'm sorry. You know that 'big hero' stuff rubs me the wrong way. Truth be told, I heard some merchant was robbed after trading with Oannes. Figured it might be related. Probably isn't, but... well I guess I'm just in the mood for tracking down some thieves."
|
|
#
?
May 28, 2016 18:56
|
|
|
quote:Ambergris: Me and you probably grew up walking the same streets, though I would have been all growed up by the time you was walkin' them. I know from experience that quick hands like yours get snapped up by the gangs sooner or later. But sounds like you avoided that and got to steal mostly for yourself. How come? I might not be what you'd call "classically educated" but I'm not stupid. In this world, loner sorts get chewed up and spit out. But I also know that gangs are a good way to paint a target on your head. Rival gangs, constables, the boss' pal what dun like the look uv ya, whatever. Someones gonna have your number. So I opted to sidestep the issue altogether. Make meself too valuable to kill or conscript. Wanna know what them blokes on the other side uv town are plannin? Ask the little ragamuffin to take a stroll. Evverone knows she ain't affiliated. Your girl see a pretty trinket but your flat broke and na much good for anything but a snatch n grab anyway? Slip Ambergris a little dosh and wake up with a gift for the lady on yer mantle. Your brother got heat on 'im, when alluva sudden the inspector's bad bookkeeping become public knowledge? You nod politely at the rat girl next time you cross her path. So's I get a rep as a reliable sort what don take sides, and whaddya know? Lossa folks suddenly real happy to respect yer boundaries. Lossa folks willin to hurt other folks when they don't. An instead of a shallow grave or a bad tattoo, I got me a nice long list of favors owed.
|
|
#
?
May 28, 2016 19:36
|
|
|
Captain_Indigo posted:The Lark: Your a man of many faces, though none of them are beautiful as your real one me old mucker. Tell me mate, which is your favourite face? This one or something special you leave lying around? "Pete, my friend! Only a blind man could be so kind. But you want a story, and a story you shall have! There is one face that's special above all others, you bet. My old face, my proper one, that's my favourite, of course. After all, I need to keep it fixed in my mind above all others, now that my past has been all muddled up with the flights of fancy I keep in my head with it! But there is another face that is more...precious? Dangerous? Frightening? Remember my story, when I mentioned the god jabbing me with his pen? Well, I made to grab his hand! Purely reflex, of course. But I touched his flesh. Which means that somewhere in my repertoire, of all the faces I've acquired over the years since, is the face of a god. I've never worn it. I'm afraid to. What good can come from a man wearing the face of a god who has already punished him?"
|
|
#
?
May 29, 2016 02:03
|
|
|
Blind Pete posted:Neria: Alright love, how you doin'? You feelin' alright? Got a place to sleep this week? There's a room upstairs if you need it, mate. We look after the ones who get hurt. What was your last meal? Ehehe. Lamb stew, peapods, biscuits and wine. Last night's dinner. You should know, Petey. You were at table there with me.~ I may look like ten miles of bad road, but these hands still know how to handle a good carving knife. And, y'know. Regular knives too. E-heh. Nobody gets into the Guild kitchens who doesn't pass under my eye these days - I know just how easy it is to slip a bit of poison into a strong man's food or drink. A little serpents' tears in the broth, some oil of tagit in the wine...and anyone who thinks they can try it has to get through me and Hertz first. E-hehe. Not on my watch.  But you know how the grudges grow as the years go by - how people who want us dead seem to spring up like weeds after a few good jobs. 'S too easy to nip a good adventurer in the bud while they're still young and soft - before they've lived through enough to know to be wary. To know who they can trust and who never to turn their backs on. So I keep my eye out. Tend the gardens; tend the kitchens. Nobody makes too much of little ol' me, and that's just the way I like it. Ehehehe. And the ones who come by thinking they can find an easy mark in my house? They don't get a chance to look twice. Alumnus Post fucked around with this message at 06:02 on May 29, 2016 |
|
#
?
May 29, 2016 05:54
|
|
|
Captain_Indigo posted:Angel: Quite a story young lady. Whatever happened to your brother then eh? "My brother? He..." Angel hesitated, and looked to her drink. A circus of emotions ran across her face. Anger, fear, sadness, worry, hate. She took a long drink. Gulping back the watery ale and slamming the mug down with a moody glare that didn't match her features. "I-I don't..." She started, hiccuped, then continued. "Look, that-that dragon in his arm. It started telling him stuff. Whispering into his ear. Peter is a good guy, he'd help anyone. Clearly he thought the dragon needed aid MORE THEN HIS BLOODY SISTER!!!" The bar went silent. Angel slapped a hand over her mouth. Shock in her eyes, eyes that misted over with the threat of tears. Angel called the bluff and blinked them away. The patrens returning to their drinks. Though some did cast a few pitying glances over her way. Angel ignored them. She swirled a finger in her ale. Sholders hunched against the outside world. "...Sorry..." She mumbled. At length she spoke again, but there was a horse quality to her voice. "He turned to me, and he told me how much he loved me. But that he had to make sure I was safe. I was still in pain from what had just happened to me. I tried to tell him to stay. But he just ruffled my hair in the way that he always would, and said 'I'll be waiting on the Wall.' then he grew wings from his back and he left. Just fwoosh, gone! I hated it when he ruffled my hair." Angel's lip wobbled, so she took another drink. She was on her third by this point. It was pretty well known Angel couldn't handle her beer. Her face was very red when she drained the last dregs from the mug. She swayed slightly back and forth. "I tried to look for him, you know. I tried and I tried and I tried. But I can't find him. No one knows what bloody wall he was talking about. It's all the Dragonz fault, if it wasn't for him Peter would sssitlll stlleee stalt- still! He'd still be here!" Tears prickled at her eyes again, but she did nothing to stop them. "I-I just miss him... I want him back... I've got aallll the power offff these words things. Aaaaand I can't find himmmmm... What did I do? Huh?! What ddidd I get cursed with? That's why I keeeeep adventuring! Because maybe I'll finnd a clue. To him or dizzz Wall thing. Then when IIIII fnd him! Imma slap hm! Den hug hm. Den I'm gonna... gonna.... ohhh, the roum iz spnnin...!" The serving maid helpfully caught the drunken girl before she plowed face first into the bar. "Come on now Lass, let's get you to your room, okay?" "Noooooo! Im fineeeee! I cn drnk az mch az ah wnt! Im nut evn drink rigt now!" Angel replied, lying her arse off. "See? So I cn juzz hve muur ale." "Well, okay." The bargirl rolled her eyes to Blind Pete. Before remembering he was blind, and feeling kind of a dick. "It's just there's more ale up in your room. "Tur iz? Wal tak me tur!" Angel drunkenly raised a fist in triump. Before slumping dead asleep into the girls arms. The pub roared with laughter. Angel getting drunk was rare, but always entertaining. She was usually so proper and polite. Pity you had to bring up her brother to get her that pissed. The laughter was filled with the solom grief of seeing a guildmate in pain. So they kept adventuring, maybe, one day, she'd find her brother. But for now she'd sleep it off, wake up with a massive headache, and get back to her quest. Maybe, just maybe, this would be the one. Maybe this time, she'd get her answers.
|
|
#
?
May 29, 2016 21:51
|
|
|
Picks are made. Liked them all, had to narrow it down. Hope those who didn't get in will apply again in the future. Going to take four to begin with and see how posting goes. If anyone needs replacing or I decide to bring another dude in then I will contact people who have already applied first. Thanks! The adventurers Ambergris the thief. Amaruq the druid. Darlington the spellslinger. Valarius the psion. Game thread is up. Edit: Don't forget to sort out your bonds. Captain_Indigo fucked around with this message at 18:48 on May 30, 2016 |
|
#
?
May 30, 2016 10:49
|
|
|
Congratulations to everyone who got in.
|
|
#
?
May 30, 2016 13:44
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 24, 2024 09:09 |
|
|
I think I'll start with bonds then: Ambergris has something I once owned. It was an heirloom that I kept on the wall of my bed chambers at the chief DeMontefayne household where I always had a room if I needed it. I imagine that room has long gone or similar. The heirloom (a silver necklace inlaid with diamonds and inset with one larger diamond flecked with shards of silver) has likely passed through the hands of many, many people until Ambergris somehow got ahold of it. I wonder what the story of her finding it is, still somewhat ominous for her to find it and then meet me. Amaruq's soul is so bright it almost hurts to see. It is like a gleaming diamond, compressed by unfathomable spiritual and magical pressures, except it's not exactly a diamond either but... ice. Both, in fact, and it gleams with an inner radiance which is hard to describe, harsh and pale and white. I wonder why. Darlington Rose is my distant kin. It was bound to happen, especially in all the time that has passed since I was alive. To be honest I'm more surprised I haven't encountered more people who are distantly related to me. But I know Darlington definitely is, I can sense it in the essence of his soul, and the way his blood shifts. I wonder if he has much knowledge of his ancestors? I might be able to work back some more history from that. I suspect Amaruq is afraid of me. Which isn't that hard to believe, not only am I an undead abomination - but one with unearthly puissance. Perhaps I remind him of something from whence he came, from his once homeland, who knows what horrors lurk out in the cold and dark. But one that can also pillage your mind for your deepest secrets? If I were to face me now when I was alive I'd probably feel at least some dread. Ambergris reminds me of my long dead lover. In her deepest essence, at least. Sure my long dead lover was not caked in filth and blood and living on the streets or anywhere close to that... but her spirit is similar, tenacious, resilient, just. Pure isn't quite the word but she's no simple cut-throat or vagabond, that's for sure. She is proof that her innermost nature cannot be entirely tainted by her upbringing and her origins, something that could be said for Rhoanna, who was born into a life of backstabbing politics and poisonings in order to manoeuvre puppets onto thrones and similar, stuff that even I was distasteful of, using psionics for that purpose takes it to another level entirely.
|
|
#
?
May 30, 2016 21:49
|
|