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  • Locked thread
Feb 2, 2012

I finally understand everything there is to know about axes!

Recruitment Thread:

Making a Post:

You can help me make posts quickly by making the information I need easy to read and access, because sometimes I have opened 3 copies of the game thread and one of the recruitment thread as well as the editing window.

Here are the things I need and how, if everyone lays them out the same, posting will be a bit quicker and easier for me!
Name: (Current Location)

Narrative details

Summary of mechanical action;

D: (Divine Trait name)+2
M: Mortal Traits +?
About being a God (Rules and gameplay notes):

If everyone can do this for me it will help a lot! I do read all of your narrative details, but if I can quickly see the information I've said it'll make my posting more efficient which is important with this many players!

More than Mortals:


Mortal scope actions will be handled by the rules set out in PDQ. You can go and read them if you like, but in essence a +2 quality auto-succeeds on DC 7 checks, a +4 quality auto-succeeds on DC 9 checks and so on. If you don't auto-succeed you roll for it (which is handled by me behind the scenes) and any time you do something where you can't apply a quality you treat it as having a quality of 0.

Divine Actions are a little different. In the first stage of the game, Divine Actions are often Mortal Actions but with more power. If you you can perform that action at DC 9 or less and apply your Divine trait to it then you will auto-succeed, otherwise the guidelines for the Mortal skills will be flexibly applied to the actions a mortal with minor god powers will make.

This section will be appropriately updated when the game up-shifts to the full Demigod phase.


Here's some DC suggestions for doing stuff with magic at this point to help players out. It's not intended to be a comprehensive list and some situations may make things easier or harder, such as using sympathetic connections. But hopefully it should give you a general idea of where your action fits in. If in doubt, either ask me or try it anyway!

Note: As a mortal magician (i.e using a Mortal trait of magic) these actions will be upscaled by +2 or +4.

Automatic Successes: (DC 5 and 7) Moving objects like tables and chairs with magic, keeping food unspoiled, minor cosmetic changes, healing cuts or simple fractures, starting fires in a flammable place.

DC 9: Creating a wall of ice enough to block off a road, creating clothing or food from nothing, healing simple diseases or mending complex fractures, asking a single question of a spirit, seeing a place in the same duchy/region for a moment.

DC 11: Teleport across a town, move an object the size of a shack, heal infected wounds, cause a tree to explode, shield yourself against a squad of archers or swordsman, demand a single favour from an extraplanar being and bind them to this world until fulfilled.

DC 13: Cause a storm over a valley, heal a person on the brink of death, change a living creature into another living creature, summon a minor being from another plane bound to your will indefinitely, teleport across a valley, cause the earth to swallow a squad of men.

Belief and how to Acquire it:

Belief is the lifeblood of a God. They can live without it, but they are reduced to the scale of being merely somewhat better than humans, or rather as the players start off. With Belief a God grows in power, able to influence things more greatly and from a farther difference. Mechanically this means upgrading existing Divine traits and gaining new ones. There are three common ways a player might gain power, but these are not the only ways.

Places of Power: Belief has existed for many years, but it has gotten stronger recently. Old places steeped in myths and legend have accumulated Belief which can be acquired. These are the largest repositories of Belief in the world and such power will always come with a price, although the nature of that price will vary. Greedy Gods should beware though, for such places have often gained a seeming of awareness and taking the power may change you in unexpected ways.

The Power of the People: People are the source of all Belief in the world, so harnessing this directly is a wise idea for those that wish for a steady rise in power. People are naturally sometimes difficult to convince, which is important for a God as that person must truly believe you are a Divine being and worship you, if not out of love then out of fear.

The power of the Strong: People and creatures that are larger than life can accrue Belief as well. Although they cannot truly use it, sometimes these people are said to have unnatural luck or preternatural skill. In truth it simply the effect of accumulated Belief within them, Belief which a true God can take from them no matter his power. Gods can take Belief from other Gods as well, but the risks in doing so might be much greater.

HiKaizer fucked around with this message at Nov 24, 2012 around 02:55


Feb 2, 2012

I finally understand everything there is to know about axes!

Gather around and I'll tell you a story, of when gods walked the ground as mortals among us. Whether this is make-believe, heresy or the truth is up to you to decide, but a tale must be told. Let us begin on the Night of the Starfall, it was the first night 276th year of the 4th Era and no one knew it would be the last year of that Era. Much of the Arandia had managed to rebuild after the Eosite Empire had been forced out and many of the Old Ways had been rekindled. Jalosh and Inctan were the primary patrons of the region, while Eosia remained faithful to the One God Valamnis. Ah, but those are other tales aren't they? Anyway it was a peaceful night until there was a crack that split the heavens. Blue white streaks of fire covered the sky as something broke. One came to rest upon the world in a far forgotten place, but although the flame was never found it lived on. Soon men and women came into strange powers, or grew to great stature or grace. We shall begin with...

There were many men who felt the change across the world. The city of Eisos held Alrain Z'haer, Stavos, and Vanthos to begin with, but soon they were joined by another man. In the simple village of Blackwater a man named Edo lived. Edo now, well he was a fisherman and like many of his trade a simple and humble kind of folk. So when he woke up and discovered he could see and heal the ills of others you can bet he was surprised! He healed his cousin and tried to heal his uncle but was found out, because they though he was a wizard. Blackwater didn't take kindly to magic and so they sent him packing and Edo found his way to Eisos. Now Alrain and Stavos, they were both scholars and similar minded men who found themselves possessed of magic whence before they had no a scerrick of any. Alrain had power in words, or the image of words at least at that time and Stavos was an alchemist who ironically gained the power to transmute things! But he was never really any good at gold, something of a personal obsession it was, it always came out wrong. Anyway Stavos found Edo who'd been making friends and healing people for a small fee. The problem was in Eisos they didn't take kindly to that as the Magisters controlled the medical magicks and they were a pretty pound of gold to buy. So they took Edo and marched him off to the Imperial University without so much as a please or by your leave! Stavos ran after the poor fisherman to try and look after him.

In the Frozen Wastes there lived two terrible men by the names of Yizgur and Degowin. Degowin wasn't a bad sort at first, but Yizgur was a large man and lusted for the taste of the flesh of men. Sadly for Degowin some hunters tried to take his kill and left him and his family for dead, or so they thought. Turns out the chill of winter itself had crept into Degowin and he now walked through the snow like a child takes a summer stroll. Another had taken his hunt though, and that was a strange creature who lived in a cave alone. Seeking vengeance and his hunt, as well as wishing to silence the creature's song he slew the best and starving as he was feasted on its body greedily. But such flesh does strange things to men and stranger things to god and so it was that Koth watched the frosty Degowin grow, and grow until he looked a might bit like the thing he'd just killed. Koth was a childish kind of fellow who lived with his wolves and liked simple and happy past-times when he could get them. He'd been guarding a surly and greedy merchant, but when he discovered he could go through solid objects he made off with the merchants' gold and ran into Degowin. The fearsome iceman tried to quench the lingering song of the spirit of the Godsheap but he could not do it and left to make himself known to his old kinsman. Koth wandered south to find out more strange happenings.

Arandia has been a turbulent place at the best of times.

HiKaizer fucked around with this message at Jan 23, 2013 around 01:48

Feb 2, 2012

I finally understand everything there is to know about axes!



Fulkshire: 5
Harvan: 4
Coltain: 6


Eisos: 1
Kiris: 2
Mudhal: 3


Hai-Kan: 15
Ohman-Rey: 17
Ruins of Kitan-Atan: 16


Harlakake: 10
Koltik'a: 11
Taelos: 9

Ulysesus Islands:

Nundus: 8

Val Aman:

Val Haysus: 14
Val Setin: 12
Val Lichett: 13

Verdant Isle:

Midorin: 7

HiKaizer fucked around with this message at Nov 24, 2012 around 02:50

Feb 2, 2012

I finally understand everything there is to know about axes!

[Reserved in case someone gets to impatient. Will edit this to include starting points for characters]

(Be patient if your character has not yet been covered, I'll have the rest done within an hour or two.)

The year is 276E4 as measured by the Eosian Calendar. On the last eve of 275E4, there was a tremendous crack in the night sky and a fantastic shower of blue fire-rain. One fell to the ground far away from any mortal, but although its flame flickered and died out before the end of a full count to 60 its effects would echo through the ages...


Andra: You were unable to take part in the towns celebrations, due to a terrible cough that kept you in bed for the last week. Although you saw the Starfall through your window you were quick to dismiss it as a fevered dream. Now that you have awoken you feel better. In fact you cannot remember feeling this healthy and energetic in your life.

Civar: You travelled to Coltain in time for the festival of the year, which marks the passing of the old year into the new. The blue fire that broke the sky open and streaked across to the horizon was definitely notable, and you paused to think exactly what your mother would have made of that omen. That thought put a sombre tone to the evening and you were glad to partake of the mead that was flowing at the tavern. When you awoke in the morning in the chaotic devastation of the frivolities of the night you feel ill. At first you think it's a hangover, but soon the moral outrage of the chaos around enlightens you to something being amiss.

(I'm not exactly sure how to introduce your power, so apologies if this isn't really entirely accurate. I tried to be thematic)

Daveron: When you finally awake your household is in a frantic panic. Ilvis has gone missing and they are unsure why. You had the weirdest dream though, where you told Ilvis she was going to run into bandits. The dream Ilvis simply replied, "wouldn't that be my luck?"

Ilvis: You had been awake for some time before sun-rise, eager to avoid any chance of interception in your endeavour. By the time the townsfolk were truly roused, Ilvis had made her egress and had travelled some distance down the road. However now her horse was dead, an arrow in its side and a trio of bandits had come to relieve her of her gold. It seemed that some bandits had commendable work ethics even if they were bereft of commendable morals. Not even at the tourney had Ilvis' sword felt so much like a part of her, as though her hands extended into deadly steel instead of merely carrying it. If you could slay the bandits you could take one of their steeds as your own, despite their inferior stock.

Julianus: You awake from your sleep, as the rays of the sun strike your room. The transition from slumber into wakefulness is smooth and without pause. You are left to ponder the mystery of your graceful return to consciousness, for you have never experienced anything like this before. When you inspect yourself in your silver mirror your eyes are drawn to yourself, although why you suddenly have such import to yourself is hard to say. It does not feel like vainglory indulgence or the mind-numbing embrace or narcissism.

Wilhelm: Those fools last night and their showy lights, where in the blasted wastelands of hell did they get that blue fire? It was like someone had gotten a bunch of fire and thrown it into the sky with a catapult or something. The child from woman at the market who sold your honey came as he usually did, with his silver coin in hand and his basket with its pots. Someone the sweet and bubbling demeanour of the child infuriated you even more and you levelled a glare at the insolent adolescent, wishing it would suffer for the indignity of the evening. There was a ringing buzz in your head which was answered by the angry buzz of a small swarm of bees accompanied the flight of some of your charges who stung the child in the face and hands. The basket was soon abandoned as the tiny courier made haste to escape the stinging torment of the bees.

Elysian Sands:

Arashan: You awake to an eerie silence. The Walemundi had been subdued by the fire of the heavens last night, caring little for the years as other measured them. It is early enough in the morning, and people have slept later after the distress of the eve preceding, that you alone for many miles are awake. You find the air is still, not a hint of wind or movement of the air. The only movement is your own and the parting of the sand as you walk. In fact you find it almost hard to breathe in the perfect stillness of the world.

Mazir: The night before had been truly amazing, when the sky had opened and fire had poured out. Oh how lucky to see such a thing in your lifetime! The thoughts had carried you to sleep, which was now disturbed by the men slinking into the front chamber of your cavern home. Elysia was not a kind place, despite being an oasis in the sands and no-one would tend to your safety save yourself. A lifetime, no matter how short so far that it had been of living in fear of thieves stealing your precious few tomes on magic had made Mazir a light sleeper. Now this single trait might yet allow you to live, with a bit of luck and cunning.


Alrain Z'Haer: Festivals have held little joy for you, your frail body has had little stamina to enjoy them. Although you took some notice in the strange event of the Starfall you had little chance or energy to do much about it. When you awake, it is to return to the book you had been reading the night before. All seemed as normal until after reading a few pages you noticed that you had unwittingly been tracing some of the words with a lazy finger. This would have been less noteworthy if not for the faint glowing trails left by its passage.

Edo Waters: You took little joy in the festival yesterday, for your cousin has been sick ever since he was struck by a nettlefish. He has been feverish for a full threeday now and every morning you go to change his blankets and to place a cool cloth upon his burning forehead. The starfall seemed more of an ill omen than something to celebrate. However when you place the damp cloth on his forehead Kansai opens his eyes slowly. At that same moment you feel a kind of shock in your hands touching him.

"Is that you, Edo?" He asks weakly but with a focussed voice clear of slurring. While he had spoken during the last three days, it had always been feverish and incoherent.

Fylas: Every morning you must clean the room where you conduct your work. Despite the significance of this morning the chore remains the same and no less urgent. The dead are quick to rot and attract contaminating agents, so a clean and well maintained labs is a necessary evil. When you come to the task of cleaning up the dead rats you had experimented on, your touch causes one to twitch its leg for a moment. Testing again produces the same reaction, which is a curiosity given that the vermin is most assuredly deceased.

Stavos: You had permitted yourself a single night of indulgence after the failure you had two days ago. There was some practical aspect to this, as socialising helped maintain various relationships that work into a complex chain of favours and funding. Regardless when you awoke and returned to the lab the sight of the inert lead filled you with a terrible frustration. You point at the chunk of metal, lying in the plate and yell at it; "CHANGE!"

Somehow it is still surprising when it turns into a lump of steel.

Suraj: You awake during the night to use the bed pan, and your hand illuminates your search for it. At the time your sleep fuddled brain simply thought that it was a pleasant convenience. In the morning you are not sure whether to believe it to be a dream or a delusion. With the rays of the morning sun filtering into your room it is difficult to test for the faint illumination if it was indeed no trick of sleep.

Vanthos: The end of the year, the beginning of the new year. The darkness between when the year was not...this was the time you chose to attempt your summoning anew. People would be too busy with their revelry to investigate you and any Mages would be likely to dismiss the anomalies. As you finished the incantation the sky above your house broke, not that you knew of this in your basement and you feel a surge of power. With a kind of grim desperation your manage to stumble your way through the ritual and then the air before you collapses in on itself. For one maddening second you can see into another world of chaos and thoughts made manifest. Then before you is a single eye that floats, suspended by an otherworldly ethereal nature. The apparition blinks its single eye with some curiosity.

The Frozen Wilds:

DeGowin: This far to the north there is little chance to celebrate in the eve the passing of the year, for the snows and frost are quick to claim those that stray to far from their fires. It is this lesson that brings you some mystery as you awake to find your room covered in rime and your clothes laced with frost. By all accounts you should currently be dead, but unless you have gone to the lands where dead men walk something is quite amiss.

Eredeth: You'd managed to talk your way into staying the night, despite managing to accidentally cause one of the horses to shy away as the rider tried to ride it out of the stables at a canter. It was clearly not your fault but the owner had been the chieftain of the village and the event had caused them to dislike you. It had been too late to move on and so here you were in the morning. You thought you managed to awake before everyone else yet as you walk to leave the tavern, you can hear someone say "He's coming, okay, I'll just club him and take everything he's got." Yet you can't see anyone in the room and more importantly you're not even sure you heard that. Which is quite a logical conundrum that you might mull over were it not for a possible imminent mugging.

Koth Wolfrider: You awake as you normally do, before the fat merchant from the south who was mad enough to try to trade in these lands did. He always yelled about making sure he got his money from you and demanded that you do every trivial chore for him. Some days you saw it difficult to justify why you should not simply have him killed and fed to the wolves. But then you remember his chest of money and that only he has the key. When you go to collect the feed for the horse from the back of the cart, you are stunned when your hand passes through it for a moment.

Yizgur: You're hungry. You haven't eaten for two days and no one has left the villager you have been staying near to because of the end of the year and those blue lights in the sky. A squirrel helped tide you over the previous day but it wasn't enough to sate you. Something will have to be done and soon.

(Not sure how to introduce your power yet, as it still relates to fae and demons. So it'll have to wait until it's more relevant)


Cyriss: You wake up after the morning of the Starfall, to the realisation your clock is not working. It periodically needs to be wound and the absence of its tick and of its chime on the hour is more disturbing to your sleep than loud noises. As you step out of your bed and trump over to the erstwhile device, considering whether to return to sleep after you re-wind the clockwork you think for a moment you hear a faint whispering. When you touch the clock it becomes louder. It's not a voice, so much as a knowledge of what the device needs. Aside from being wound the clock 'wants' to be oiled.

Sun Plains:


Adam Leborn: You are sure you drank far too much. This is hardly the first occasion you've had to think such notions but then again, before this you did not have a beard that threatened to touch the floor. This would have been even more impressive had you not been a good foot and a half closer to the floor now, if not even more than that which is admittedly in its own right a fairly amazing thing. Adam might have given these things more thought if he had not been busy panicking and trying to figure out if he was dreaming or not.

Alexios: To say that there was much merry-making last night would be an understatement. Few men can consume as much food and alcohol as those who are old soldiers and know every day may be their last. You are fortunate as the leader of your group to have your own dormitory, certainly the men under your command will be faring with less fortitude. When someone enters your room to bring you your breakfast, they stand still for a moment and blink as if dazed by something.

Kovar: Last night you had played a game of Lancers and Cavalry, which had ended in your defeat. Before drowning your sorrow in ale and food and celebrating the passing of the old year you had tried to determine where your planning and strategy had gone awry. Yet when you awake in a flash of insight you realise what it was that you had done that led to this defeat. In fact, as you think about it the entire game opens up in your minds-eye like a book.

Lilian Grandpré: The wind was fierce, as the knocking windows of your room awoke you in the morning and some leaves blew in. With some consternation you wake up to go and close and bolt the window, catching two leaves as you walk to it. After a slight pause as your brain catches up to your body you realise that you knew where the leaves would go, as though it was moving your arm. Not because of the leaves, but the wind itself.

Octagaon: Unlike many other people this evening you have not slept. Instead you have been waiting for the perfect time to strike your target, a merchant lord who has attracted an enemy in the wrong places. A while after that blue fire streaked through the sky, you began to hear a soft murmuring. It has been quite vexatious for the entire period. The only company you've had all this time is a spider in a corner of the roof. It wasn't poisonous or even of a particular size to take notice. But when you look at the creature accusingly as if it could be responsible for the whispering it seems to look bad and whisper in a thin voice.


Val Aman:

Geldolph the Leper: The Starfall had been a nice diversion from the harsh life of the streets. It was hard to begrudge the hardship given that it had been freely accepted but that was little balm to ease your suffering. A couple of drunk revellers wandering around in the early morning found the spot you had taken to rest. A sharp kick brought you awake to the sounds of mean laughter, but when the next blow came there was instead a terrible yelp. As you raised your eyes nervously to watch the man's arm had been broken, as though he had struck an immovable object with great force.

Red: This was the first time you'd had a discussion with something you'd thought up. The rabbit was very polite and even wore a fine coat, but kept on insisting he was late for something. Red wasn't really sure where he'd come from, considering he hadn't been around when he woke up but the rabbit was very insistent that he was late for something. He wasn't being very clear about what he was late for however...

HiKaizer fucked around with this message at Nov 16, 2012 around 11:31

Feb 2, 2012

I finally understand everything there is to know about axes!

Feel free to start posting. If anyone has any questions or I've made any mistakes, please discuss this in the Recruitment Thread.

Jun 13, 2003

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

DeGowin - DeGowin's Shack, The Frozen Wilds

After seeing to the proper burial of his dead, Degowin went back outside and sniffed the air. No smell of fire, but he knew the direction of those who stole his prey. He slipped off his boots, no longer necessary to warm his feet, and searched for evidence of their crossing. The Great Antlered One's carcass would be difficult to carry, they would likely drag it...

Using +4 Expert Hunter and +2 Stealthy to track the bastards who stole my kill without detection in return.


DeGowin the Cold Man, the Hunter.

Birthplace: A cold, remote region. He lived his life in relative isolation in his village. The Lore suggests this is in The Northernmost Frozen Wilds.


The Man laid freezing and watched the Sky Fire. The Winter had been hard. Worse than the one before it. The Summer had been dry, the crops died of thirst. The Man had gone hunting many times. Too many hunters in the Forest for two Winters made game short.. The Demon Wind howled and a Great Storm was coming. There was no food and Wife and Child grew weak from hunger. The Man left wood for the fire before his hunt as Wife sang to Child.

Three days he tracked the Great Antlered One. In the Moon’s light the Man finally crept close enough to draw his bow. Arrow flew true, but other Hunters came. Too many to fight, though he was strong. They took the Man’s game, and weapons, and furs. He knew Wife and Child must be dead, and The Man laid freezing and watched the Sky Fire.

The Man awoke. The Cold should have taken the Man. It did not. The Cold became part of the Man. The other Hunters had left with what they could carry of the Great Antlered One. The Cold Man realized there was more Game in the forest than he had thought...

Mortal Qualities:

Expert Hunter [+4] - The tracking, killing, cleaning, and perhaps cooking of Game.

Strongman [+4] - His lean frame belies his prodigious strength and endurance.

Stealthy [+2] - The perfect hunter must know to quiet his step, not reveal his scent, and hide himself from sight to prevent his prey from ever knowing he is there.


Music [-2] DeGowin cannot stand the sound of music or singing.

Divine Qualities:

Cold [+2] - Ice/winter themed supernatural power.

Personality/Core Values: DeGowin is a broken, angry man. Years of his village being destroyed by neighbors means he now has nothing left to care about.

Dec 31, 2002

Stavos stared at the lump of steel, and blinked, and blinked again. Well, this was an unexpected turn of events. What had just happened? Had that lead really just turned into steel before his very eyes? With all of his research, all of his work, was it actually as simple as getting incredibly frustrated and shouting at an ingot? The Philosopher's Stone was bile?! If so, how had he not managed to do this before? This wasn't the first time that he's lost his temper, and it was self-evident that the field of alchemy is littered with frustrating failures.

Something didn't add up here. Was it possible that this was the final action to a chain of events, the last necessary step to transmute a base metal? Perhaps it was something else; it's certainly possible that all of his work previous was totally irrelevant to what just happened.

Or... perhaps this is a practical joke. No doubt Herot would laugh himself to death if he ran off shouting to his peers "I've done it!" while waving the "steel" around! Stavos looked around his laboratory suspiciously. "Come out!" he shouted, and peered under desks and into closets. There was no sign of another person present, and if Herot was behind this then surely his toady Agaia would have been the one to do it, a man who was not known for his cool under pressure. Surely, he'd have heard a sound, or seen a tremor. Hmm...

The most basic tenant to natural philosophy is that a result must be reproduced to be valid. No flukes are allowed, although some of his more credulous (and less effective) alchemical peers would argue otherwise. But how would he reproduce it, if he didn't know the steps? Well, first things first, he supposed. He may as well rule out shouting. Stavos grabbed another lump of lead from the shelf, placed it on the table, and girded himself by thinking about his failures.

Using +4 Alchemist and +2 Transmutation to aid as Stavos gets really annoyed and shouts "CHANGE!" at another lead ingot to try to reproduce his results. Using +2 Natural Philosopher to analyze the result, and try to think about what he's done differently this time if that fails.

Volmarias posted:

Stavos Burhonhin

Alchemist. Thomas Wijck (Beverwijck 1616–1677 Haarlem), Holland, 17th Century, Oil on panel.

Birthplace - Eisos
Backstory - Stavos was always a quick study. A precocious child of petty nobles, Stavos excelled in his university studies and found himself taking place in the ranks of the university shortly after graduation. A natural at alchemy, Stavos was eagerly welcomed into the department by most (but not all) of the staff. He has always been engaged by his research, but university pay isn’t very good and Stavos found himself needing to take on additional responsibilities to support himself and his experiments. After a short bout of wanderlust which gave some exposure to the world beyond the walls of Eisos, Stavos began offering his services, on a strictly consultary nature, to those with the money to pay and the problems to engage him.

Stavos currently sits as a Professor Emeritus at the university. His skill, experience, and intellect easily grant him the position of residing there, but he has found it to be increasingly unsuited for his research. With a conviction that true advancements will only be made by exploring the world to seek out the knowledge that he requires rather than waiting for it to come to him, a new bout of wanderlust is propelling him to places unknown.

Mortal Qualities

Alchemist +4
Stavos is an accomplished alchemist, and is widely known within alchemical communities as a leading influence. Despite his relatively young age, his keen insights and his original research has broken ground and driven the state of alchemy to exciting levels. Consequently, he is comfortable with alchemical reactions of all kinds, and is more than able to consider new ones on the spot as necessary.
Natural Philosopher +2
While his passion is alchemy, Stavos keeps abreast of natural developments in many fields, as much as is possible. He’s dabbled in physics, botany, astronomy, and so many more. In a great many fields he has the knowledge of a dilettante, but his true love is alchemy.
Man of Means +2
Research is expensive, and Stavos has engaged in trade and industry as a means to fund it. Merchants, workmen, and nobles each have sought his counsel, from novel ways to purify ore, to ways to detect counterfeit materials, to ways to detect poisons, and more. Due to the premium prices which he’s charged, and the inventions which he’s licensed, Stavos has wealth enough that he could retire now if he so chose. Such a suggestion, however, would only irritate a man with boundless curiousity and enthusiasm.
Gentleman Dualist +2
Success breeds contempt, and Stavos Burhonhin has been very, very successful. While he received rudimentary training in swordplay as a formality, Stavos learned that he needed to dramatically expanded his training and experience as both a precaution and as an unfortunate necessity for his own safety. He is by no means a master fencer, but he can defend himself if necessary.


Obsessed -2
The pursuit of knowledge has been Stavos’ life, but nothing has eluded him quite as much as his search for the Philosopher’s Stone. As much a metaphor as it is an object, Stavos is obsessed not just with finding ways to turn base metals to valuable ones, but to understand the concepts behind transmutation in general. Were he to hear even a rumor with the merest hint of credibility that could help him on his quest, Stavos would be hard pressed indeed to ignore it.

Divine Qualities

Transmutation[Magic] +2
Stavos has started to indulge in the paths of the occult and the supernatural in his quest to learn more of alchemy. It is a frustrating path, but he has become increasingly convinced that traditional alchemical paths are unlikely to bear the kind of fruit that he so desperately longs for. As Stavos set up his equipment, reagents, sigils, and other necessities one night, a streak of light flashed across the sky. Stavos had great success that evening, far better than he had predicted...

Personality / Core Values - Stavos is driven by a thirst for knowledge about the nature of the world, and the concepts of how it changes. He is indifferent to the affairs of most people, and can come across as cool and disinterested. He believes in learning for the sake of learning, and is infuriated by the concept of deliberate ignorance.

Volmarias fucked around with this message at Nov 17, 2012 around 03:28

Puppies are dicks
Jan 31, 2011


Ilvis - Halfway out of Harvan and in sight of the border

Taking a deep breath as I take stock of my chances I steel my resolve, drawing strength from the fact that the Sword lies buckled firmly at my side. It's kind of comforting actually in a heavy, metal, dangerously sharp sort of way, but that's not at all how it feels at all when I'm holding it. I guess that's part of the sacred magic?

Do it right, Ilvis. You only get one chance to make a first impression and knights don't cry when their horses get shot by bandits hungry for gold and probably other horrible things besides. Knights don't cry.

"I'm sorry Chestnut."

Dismounting from Chestnut's still warm remains I give her one last pat as I stare downfield at the bandits, gauging the distance between us. Three men, mounted, unarmored. Maybe five good sized paces before I'm in the middle of them. Those bows will do them little good in close quarters if I charge them hard and now, and with any luck my armor will turn any arrows they manage to loose beforehand. Gotta take the biggest one first since he's the leader. Knock him down so that the others are less likely to flee, slide around the side, cut the stirrups on the one on the right, wheel around using the horse as cover to smack the last one on the head with the hilt of my sword overhand like a hammer. Just like one of Dad's stories.

Standing at a swagger I raise my sword in challenge. Knights swagger right? Because of the uh, downstairs equipment?

"You'll pay for your crimes, varlets!"

Ugh. Varlet? Who even says varlet in this day and age? Can't let my voice crack, gotta make this a manly roar of challenge... Aaaah nothing for it, just gotta charge and charge fast and charge NOW!

Action: Defeat bandits with righteous application of sword and force, so that they may be brought to justice for the crime of horse-murder banditry.
Doctrine: Non-lethal assault with the intent to disable
Priorities: Shock and Awe mortal opponents with overwhelming force, disabling or otherwise removing their ability to resist, escape, or commit further evil misdeeds.

+4 Martial Training: Dad's talked me through doing this hundreds of times. Bandits are easy. Bandits are weak and cowardly and unarmored and unless they've got friends hiding in the underbrush in ambush I just need to cut off their retreat and knock them down hard enough with a body check. Or an armored glove to the lower center mass. Or a strike to the downstairs. Thinking on it, Dad must really dislike bandits for some reason. Most of his stories involve smacking bandits in the downstairs region. Small wonder though if they go around shooting peoples' horses to death.

+4 Champion: No need to sweat it, really! This is going to be just like the tourney. Gotta unseat an armed rider from foot, only there's three of them. And they have bows. And they might surround me. Guess I'm going to have to hit very, very hard.

+2 Sacred Sword: Flat of the sword. Gotta remember to hit them with the flat of the sword if they're to be taken in and tried for murdering Chestnut general purposes of justice. Or interrogating them about their bandit activities and so forth. Either way, definitely gotta remember to use the flat, non-killing end of the blade.

Puppies are dicks posted:

Ilvis Alicenta Fiore du Valiere, Eisner Faust

+2 Fifth Daughter of a Noble House: That's me, fifth of five sisters. Our dad's not really very pleased at that, you know the whole not having any male heirs to pass on the family name to and all. I think he's going to adopt one of my sisters' husbands officially eventually, but generally speaking it's not that big of a deal yet since he's still relatively young and healthy. But yeah! I've got a good idea of what forks to use and what a viscount is and all that. My granduncle is a Viscount actually...

+4 Martial Training: So as it happens, Dad didn't really like the prospect of not having anybody to pass on his 'legendary battle experiences' and I was the only one who was halfway interested in war stories and swordplay. Mum didn't like it, but since I'm so far down the line of succession it hardly matters what I do with my private time anyway does it? I spent a lot of time hanging around with Dad and his old warsworn growing up, and I reckon I've gotten as much good training in as any squire out there.

+4 Champion: So here's the part that's a secret. Well, maybe not quite a secret anymore. Last week there was a grand tourney and Lisbeth bet me I couldn't put on boy's armor win it on a lark, and well... turns out I'm actually really good at this fighting stuff. Either that or all the knights I faced were pretty much rubbish. I kind of smashed through all of them and was granted the Champion's beret thing. But it's ok! I was wearing my helmet and Daveron's old armor, so they don't know it's me! Still, I think someone might suspect that it's me underneath the helmet though since Daveron was busy passed out beneath a bench at the time. They call me Eisner Faust and although technically speaking girls aren't allowed to be Champions, I don't think there's any specific law prohibiting it. Just gotta walk with a swagger and keep my helmet on is all.

+2 Sacred Sword (supernatural power): Yeah there's just the one other thing, you know how I won that grand tourney last week? I kind of originally went in order to cheer for my cousin Daveron, only he broke his sword accidentally and I had to run off and find him a replacement. There was an alleyway, and an old woman, and some sort of mystic fog, a brief transformation into a squirrel, and long story short there's this Sacred Sword thing and I'm supposed to go on a mystic quest of knight errantry with it righting wrongs and slaying evil. It's apparently quite magical and sacred. Certainly very sharp though.

-2 Innocent: What do you mean I have no experience with the way the world works? I know plenty of things about the world. I've bought my own lunch before you know, and I know how to dress my horse and how babies are made, thanks very much. We live in Arandia... and our nearest neighbors are the kingdom of...

Personality/Core Values: Optimistic Heroism. There's evil out there and someone needs to slay it. I'm going to ride out on my horse, find things that need slaying and well, do the whole business.

What was I doing the morning after starfall? Saying goodbye to my sister Lisbeth as I pack my bag and saddle my horse in the early morning. It's a bit hard to sneak out in full armor and atop a warhose, but considering the alternative is hanging around and facing Mum I'm happy to try my best. I'm honestly planning on being at least halfway out of Harvan and in sight of the border before Mum notices I'm gone.

Puppies are dicks fucked around with this message at Nov 18, 2012 around 20:45

Nov 5, 2009

Holding up her hand that held the leaves, she'd purse her lips together in thought. She had caught them so easily, not that this was some amazing feat. But how she did, she had heard the whispers of the wind and listened to their guidance almost instinctively.

"How strange.." she muttered softly to herself.

Raising her hand back up with a look of focus she'd listen intently to her surroundings for the whisper once more and let the leaves go to watch them dance again with her head tilted slightly.

Ryoutarou posted:

Oh boy this sounds fun! Also I am the only one without a real picture?

Name: Lilian Grandpré

Image: Stands at five feet and six inches in a confident stance. She light red hair, she keeps it in an upwards pony tail that allows the end to fall
down over her head. Her bangs are kept simple and short as to not obstruct her striking green eyes.
She has fair skin with a light amount of freckless across her face. Her build in slim and muscular,
not at all taking away from her feminine form. She is wearing an ivory blouse that stops at her thighs, a

pink sash tied around her waist, a scabbard of white leather, red leggings, knee
length boots of polished black leather, and a dull grey hooded cloak.

Birthplace: Taeless

Backstory: The daughter of noblemen, Lilian lead a comfortable life. Unfortunately, she rebelled against

their views, being fascinated by the romantic swordsman lifestyle. As she grew older, she sought tutors

to teach her how to fight, in spite of her parents disapproval. After many dissatisfying results, she

eventually found a teacher who taught her combat as a dance.

+4 Dance: Learning to dance was one of the few things she was greatful that her parents made her do.
+4 Swordsmanship: Using her parents money and influence she found herself a teacher for a short time.
+2 Charisma: She has had to learn to act a certain way within the company of others.

-2 Low strength and Endurance: She isn't as strong as your average person due to her health and is
frail and can't exert herself to much at any given time.

+2 Windflow
Ever since the starfall she has felt a connection to the wind, able to make out slight differences in the
wind and allowing herself to adept to the situation whatever it maybe.

She's a quite person who spends most of her time in thought, this doesn't stop her from speaking her

mind when needed. She is humble enough despite being raised in a wealthy family and is in love with

stories about honour and epic fights.

Ryoutarou fucked around with this message at Nov 18, 2012 around 06:46

Feb 28, 2011

This post is brought to you by Molten Boron.
Nobody doesn't like Molten Boron!.

Lipstick Apathy


Hmm. How strange. I've never seen that before. I wonder if it happens in other books too. Perhaps a Mage enchanted the book inadvertently when he was reading it. Lets see, something with large writing that will be easy to trace.

Aldrain gets up, and slowly shuffles across the room, looking for a dictionary of ideographs. Curses. Where is this book? I'll have to have a word with the Head Librarian tomorrow. Stern words. After rifling through the shelves, cursing the apprentices for shelving the books poorly, he finds the book he was looking for: "A Primer on Eosian proto-Runes". Flipping through the pages, Aldrain finds the entry on 'Grain', a simple rune, easy to trace.

Taking his finger, he slowly, carefully traces the glyph,vaguely hoping that the strange glow will return.

Using +4 Scholar and +2 Sigilry to trace the glyph and hope it glows like the other.

oTHi posted:

Name: Alrain Z'Haer


Birthplace: The capital city of Eosia. Home of many merchant families, and vast markets, as well as the home of the Great Library, famous across the region for its vast storehouse of knowledge.

Backstory: Alrain was always a sickly child, often laying abed while the other children were playing in the street, and would more often than not be found reading on of his families rare, precious books than learning the intricacies of silk, and its trade.

Once he had reached the age of apprenticeship, Alrain's father despaired of him following in his footsteps, and one day taking over the factorage, and instead called in several favours and arranged for Alrain to apprentice at the Great Library, under Head Librarian Jaenna.

Unsurprisingly, Alrain quickly flourished under Jaenna's stern tutelage, mastering academic discipline after another, rising to a prominent position as Resident Scholar, working directly under Jaenna.


Scholar +4: Aldrain has spent the majority of his life working in a library, learning, and helping others with their inquiries.
Well-spoken +4: Aldrain speaks with polish, having shed the mannerisms of his mercantile upbringing.
Relentless +2: Aldrain will not stop until he has found what he seeks.

Infirm -2: Aldrain has always been sickly, and his time in a dark, dusty library has done nothing to alleviate this.

Sigilry [Magic] +2: Everything can be defined by Symbols. A concept is a Symbol, and by introducing mutability to the symbol, one can influence the world to follow

Personality/Core Values: Aldrain lives to learn. To take him away from his books is akin to torture, and thus, may be testy if interrupted in his research. One of his current goals is to compile the definitive work on the history of Eosia.

Nov 9, 2011

My first attack must ALWAYS be a charge!

He reached his hand out, stretching it in front of him, then proceeded to touch his nose.

He stood on one leg, and recited the Malaklava nursery rhyme.

He pinched himself.

He attempted to fly.

"Nope. Not dreaming." He said to himself, nodding with the certainty of a great sage.

Then promptly began to panic.

This was most unbecoming, he said in his head in a matter-of-fact thought, while the rest of him frailed to and fro trying to figure out if someone had chopped off a part of his legs as a joke while he was passed out. Perhaps some form of mysterious illness from the Vals had brushed over them the night before. Perhaps someone had thought he would do him a favour after how utterly tanked he got last night and gave him some kind of handicap so he wouldn't have to go to work today. Perhapse Sande the pretty waitress had gotten tired of his constant flirtations and had decided to teach him a lesson by... uh... shrinking him and making him hairier?

He shook his head, struggling to get in control of his own body. This was ridiculous, he thought. Why the hell as every part of me suddenly grown sma...

He paused, mid-sentence, and took a look at the star-patterned undergarments he wore to bed... then proceeded to look straight back up again and erase the thought from his mind.

There are some things man was not meant to know.

In the meantime though, he had a few issues. Firstly, his beard. He was practically dragging it across the floor as he walked, and that won't do in the mines. Grabbing an axe... Wait, he thought, why the devils did I just grab an axe? Grabbing a sharp blade, which would be far more suited for this sort of thing, and not some crude instrument for chopping wood, he proceeded to chop off as much of it as he could, leaving a ragged, shorter, but still quite manly beard behind. It still stretched as far as his shoulders, but he could easily hide that in his mining overalls.

Speaking of which, he thought again, a new dilemma approaching, how am I going to fit in this now?

Already his undergarments sagged on his body, threatening to drop off at any given moment and leave him as the day he was born. His overalls were much larger, and even with the bracers holding them up they would look ridiculous on him. A flash of inspiration hit him, and he grabbed an axe... then put it down and grabbed the blade again, before hacking off the leg and arm part of it, leaving it about a foot and a half shorter. It was still a saggy fit, but now at least he could work with it on.

It was far too early for the others to be awake yet - both of them didn't start their work till later in the day when the market was in full swing - but he felt he had given himself a good enough disguise. Surely, no one would notice anything was amiss with him, He would have to bathe in the river sometime later in the eve when everyone was busy getting drunk, but Adam certainly felt that he had achieved his goal. Now all that he had to do was work.

He strolled over to grab his pickaxe... which confused him for quite a while, before he realised that this was indeed the right equipment for the job, and headed down to the mines, head under his iron helmet, trying to act perfectly casual.

Druggeddwarf posted:

Adam Lebron

Birthplace: Adam was born and raised in Sellos, a small mining town located on the Val titanus mountain range in Taeless. For most of his life, he has lived and worked in the town, occasionally taking trips to either lands on business with family as well as for festive occasions.

Backstory: For as long as he can remember, Adam has always been a miner. His father was one before him, and his father before him, and so on. As such it was only natural, as the eldest son of three, to take up his fathers profession and to do it beautifully. And that he did.
It was a simple profession, one that rewarded itself - he would hit the mines for the morning, then spend the afternoon and evening crafting and working with metals he had salvaged, before passing them onto his other brothers Lars and Roth to sell in nearby towns and villages. Sometimes others would come to him, request something special made, like a suit of armour to parade around before joining the military, or a trinket to give to a dear lover. Requests are always taken, piority given to people of a higher caste.
In the evening, after a hard days work, he would head to the local pub, down a few pints, flirt with the owner's daughter, and head back home to bed to start it all up the next morning.
As far as he was concerned, his life was just perfect. Simple, precise, and perfect.
Then the Starfall came.

Metal worker (+4): All his life he has worked with various metals, either mined himself from the local mine, or given as requests from other people journeying through Sellos. Crafting any item with his hands is what brings him joy
Calm and composed (+2): Although his brothers do most of the buying and selling, Adam understands that if you take any system or situation rushing in, you will eventually lose. Slow, steady, and deep breaths always help win the race
Henched (+4): A lifetime of working the mines can do wonders for building up one's physique. Adam won't easily be beaten in terms of physical strength and constitution

"Don't want no trouble" (-2): If there's anything Adam hates, it's drawing attention to himself. A working man has to understand where he lies in the chain, and he is more than willing to stay quiet and out of the way if it means people will leave him alone.

Dwarf (+2): The first thing Adam noticed the morning after the starfall is that all his clothes just seemd slightly too big for him. Like he had shrunk by a foot overnight. Of course, not being someone to just panic over something so trivial, he just stitched up his clothes as best as he could and went to work. Then other things began to crop up, like a sixth sense as to sensing where large deposits of metal were, like being able to stay longer in the miasma of dirt that came with his job. The ability to see in the dark. And more importantly, suddenly growing hair in places they were not growing. Even now, he struggles to carry on with his life in a 'business as usual' fashion, whist constantly triming his facial hair to look fairly decent.

Personality/Core Values: Adam has always valued calm quietness over loud noises and constant excitement, hence why he chooses to life in Sellos over the capital, where his gift with metals would be more appreciated. Being the eldest of three sons, he has a strong sense of responsiblity in maintaining the status quo around him, and does his best to inform others in case they were to brake his perfect world.

May 27, 2012


Eerdeth -Ruthgard's Inn

That is a tad out of the ordinary. I'm pretty sure there's no one in this room.

I walk around the room and check all the nooks and crevasses just to be safe. "If you're in the fireplace, it's okay. I won't light up." That gets no response.

I press my ear to the door that leads out into the village and hear breathing on the other side. Two distinct sets of air rushing out of two distinct sets of lungs.

poo poo...

I call out in an effort to persuade my industrious muggers to not mug me.

"Hey, to you all on the other side of this door. I must commend your work ethic. It is pretty early in the morning, and you guys are all ready out and about, ready to take me for everything I have, but, maybe, could that not happen? I mean, I would hate to put you guys off your monthly robbery target. I know how it is, everyone is trying to make a living, things are rough all over, but my stuff is kinda important to me ... especially the gold bits. How about you don't knock me over the head with that club, and I'll lead you to a much better target."

I listen out for a response and hope the guys on the other side of the door take my bluff about knowing better targets to mug.

+4 Smooth Tongue: Man, if these guys buy that whole speech, I'll be damned, but not surprised. I'll be the first to admit that I have the "gift of gab" as Father used to call it.

+4 Control of Human Emotion: I bet my bluff about knowing where fatter grifts are to be found is paying off. These kinda guys always want more. They're a lot like me in that regard, except I don't have any of those things with the pointy ends.

JonasSalk posted:

Eerdeth Romul

Birthplace: The Frozen Wilds

Backstory: Eerdeth Romul was born to a mother and father who never did quite learn how to love him, seeing that they were both killed several days after his birth. Normally, an orphan child would be thrown to the wolves as a blood sacrifice, but the village chief (an elderly man with no children of his own) took pity on the babe and took him in as his son.

That was 19 years ago, and now the orphan boy has grown into an orphan man. His father, Chief Lurder threw him out into the wilds promptly after his 19th birthday, in accordance with local customs, so that he might make something of himself.

Eerdeth was known around his village for the mischief he was always causing. Chickens would go missing and horses would become skittish and throw their riders at the worst possible time. For some reason, Eerdeth always seemed to be around when things went wrong. Luckily, he was also possessed of a smooth tongue and was able to extricate himself from whatever trouble he may have been in.

Tired of the Frozen Wilds, Eerdeth has decided to make his way towards Eosia so that he might make some sort of mark on the world. Whether that mark be good or ill, Eerdeth is still unsure.


+4 Smooth Tongue
Eerdeth always knows what to say and when to say it. This has kept him from certain beating on many an occasion.

+4 Control of Human Emotion
Since a youth, not a day has gone by without Eerdeth leading some poor fool astray and into whatever plan Eerdeth has decided to put into action. Eerdeth is a master manipulator and never short on support from those he feels should help him.

+2 The Ear
Eerdeth can almost always tell when a person is lying, mostly because he is such a talented liar himself. It's a gift.

-2 Seeds Sewn
Eerdeth can't help but sow seeds of distrust everywhere he goes. Maybe, the gods are trying to even the playing field, but if so they are doing a bad job of it, because this distrust has an effect on everyone who comes into contact with Eerdeth.

Divine Trait:
Magic - The Eye +2: Eerdeth can peer into the minds of those he comes into contact with. This keeps him one step ahead of the rest of the world because he always knows what will come next.

Eerdeth is a liar and the world loves him for it. He needs to be in the thick of things, and often finds himself in trouble.

Luckily, he almost always finds a way out.

No one would ever say that Eerdeth is mean-spirited. For all the trouble he causes, the boy really does have a kind heart and he takes pity on the castoffs of society.

JonasSalk fucked around with this message at Nov 17, 2012 around 01:03

Apr 25, 2007

Sometimes you reach a stalemate. Sometimes you get magic horses.

Wilhelm the Child Hater

"Fah! FAH!" Wilhelm picks up the basket and carries it into his home, "Hmph! I've been stung more than once before and -I- didn't run back to my mother when it happened. Toughen up, you baby!" It made him smile on the inside to complain even though his day was already ruined by the event.

He shuffles slowly through his house, groggy from his lack of sleep due to the rowdy celebration through the town. When he reaches the table with filled honeypots he kicks his woolen slippers off and begins the process of exchanging the empty vessels for the full ones.

He then sits down nearby his iron-shod stove and places his feet into his mud-caked boots to prepare himself for the journey to the market. He picks up his walking stick, pops out his door, and begins the journey to the market.

Wilhelm always hated the market. There were too many loud people and it was always operating long after sleeping hours. It was always booming with the voices of the folk who brought back their goods from whatever city states they had happened to visit. Not to mention the horrible foreigners that were always out and about. Had he seen these folk twenty years ago he'd have been in prime shape to throttle them.

It was soothing to pass through the great hilled meadows of flowering plants and grains for him, though the bees were unusually loud and busy for this time of year. Almost as if they had been following him this entire time- The old man is suddenly hit with why he had left his home in the first place- To make sure his delivery makes it to the market. The market that was in front of him. The delivery that was still sitting in the back room of his home. His slowing down comes with an odd, eerie quiet as the bees stopped buzzing, and turning around reveals the basket had taken the time to follow him out to the market.

There is little point in questioning some things in life. Like how an inanimate object follows you. He probably just forgot that he picked it back up in the first place. Sometimes the mind goes before the body when old age comes.

He wraps his venerable fingers about the basket's handle and makes for the market stall where the stung boy and his mother would be. As he finally reaches it he sets the basket back down and makes a demand without even assessing the situation, "Woman, quit peddling your goods and pay attention so you can learn something useful for once in your life! I'll show you how to treat bee stings..."

Just takin' honey to the market and treating the boy of his bee stings. Suppose I'll be using Master Beekeeper to do it.

Commoners posted:

Wilhelm the (unofficial) Court Apiurgist

A long native of northeastern Arandia, Wilhelm has firmly cemented himself into the farmer's routine in the small republican holdout of Minburg, which borders the Gindarr Jungle and occupies a healthy percentage of the region's most fertile land. The grain and produce merchants who regularly trek out from Minburg have become wealthy enough in their own right to have a constant garrison of mercenaries to turn themselves into too much of a nuisance to conquer or repress while not large enough of a threat to be eliminated promptly.

Much of this wealth may be attributed to the mononymous Wilhelm who revolutionized the farming techniques in the region and gave them a significant edge in their volume of goods. Not only did he revolutionize the techniques of farming (which the republic keeps as a closely guarded secret despite Wilhelm's willingness to share,) but he also introduced beekeeping on a massive scale to the folk of Minburg.

In the years of Wilhelm's work bees have been attributed to wealth, success, luck, and fertility, so much so that it has been represented on some of the psuedonobility's coat of arms. He has kept to his own devices in his later years, teaching those who come to him for lessons in his knowledge and tending to his charge.


Agricultural Genius [+4] - Even before his power came to be Wilhelm had a green thumb. Years of practice and lessons learned have combined with a focused intellect to create a farmer and agricultural adviser of great worth.

Entymologist [+2] - Even a focused mind can become sidetracked, and ventures into the Gindarr Jungle have left Wilhelm with a collection of exotic beasties and crawlies from the foreign environment. He has studied bugs at home and abroad, and knows their inner workings.

Master Beekeeper[+4] - Wilhelm has gained favor in Minburg for his nearly free instruction and guidance in the republic's farmlands, and has become a notably wealthy and prestigious individual just from the sheer amount of bees that he owns. There are few successful farmers in Minburg that cannot directly trace their own hives to that of Wilhelm's.

Crotchety[-2] - Some people consider him rude. Some people have been violently assaulted by him. Wilhelm considers both groups severely annoying. And the years have been catching up with him. Kids these days have it easy.

Hive Mind Usurper [+2] - Is he naturally talented? Been doing it for so long it's like breathing? Sold his soul to the devil for forbidden beekeeping knowledge? Two of the three are likely to be true, but Wilhelm's orderly and systematic colonies are a direct product of their human overlord's intervention. He may intrude into any insect society to turn into a direct link in the hive mind, easily edging himself into previously nonexistent positions in the insectile hierarchies of order.

You're ruining everything! - Wilhelm is quick to blame the most responsible party for everything going wrong, and isn't afraid to be very vocal about it.

Let me show you how it is done! - He is as much an instructor and teacher as he is a gibbering, raving critic. His standards have reached an unattainable high, but he forcefully impresses them upon others in hopes of improving them.

Commoners fucked around with this message at Nov 18, 2012 around 00:07

Sax Battler
Jul 31, 2007

Another bloody customs post,
Another fucking foreign coast,
Another set of scars to boast,
We Are The Road Crew.

Koth Wolfrider

Well, now, Koth thought to himself. Either these are the legendary Ghost Oats, or something weird is going on. And I'm pretty sure Ghost Oats aren't really a thing.

Distractedly, he took a handful of oats. Nope, still solid, still looks normal, still tastes the same.

Wait, came a sudden thought, did I lift my mask to eat those, or did they go right through?

Right, either Ghost Oats or...

As Koth gets back to work, poking random stuff to see how this works, his mind begins to churn.

If I can reach through stuff, the gold is as good as mine, I can put it in the bags on the wolves. Should I just kill him? Nah, it'll be funnier seeing his face when he notices it's missing. I'll need a plan. I'll take a bit at a time, and if he notices, I'll just kill him.

If the merchant had seen the satisfied smile under Koth's mask, he would have probably taken his chances without a guide.

Deceptively quick[+4], Phase shifting[+2] and Animal cunning[+2] could all apply to stealthily stealing money from a locked chest without getting caught.

Methane posted:

Koth Wolfrider

Background: In the Frozen Wilds, most villages are too isolated to know much about the other villages. Therefore, when asked for the most angry and violentassholes in the land, they merely shrug, instead of saying Aardahl village. The surrounding area knows them as Those Assholes, and they get by mostly on hunting, extensive raiding, and brewing truly vile beer. They are all angry, all the time.
There, one day, was born Koth.
As the years went by, it became clear he was different from other children. Though he grew up healthy an srong, he didn't punch people for no reason, or try to rip his father's throat out with his teeth. He was, in fact, entirely without anger.
On his twelfth birthday he was sent out, as was village tradition, to kill an animal with his bare hands. After a week, it was believed he had died, the problem then being solved. When he returned months later, leading a small pack of wolves, many groans were heard through the village.
Finally his father took him aside and talked to him.
"Son," He said. "Leave the village for a while. Come back angry, or don't come back at all."
Koth shrugged, took his wolves, and left.

In the fourteen years since, Koth has crossed most of the known world, working as a mercenary, bodyguard, bandit, bounty hunter, assasain, pit fighter and on one memorable occasion, pastry chef. He is always quick to move on, wolfpacks being unpopular neighbors, but that's fine. There's still more to see.


Deceptively quick[+4] - Koth gives off a lazy air, but anyone who has seen him in battle can testify that he can move fast when he wants to. He is incredibly hard to pin down, and many foes have died with a look of surprise on their face.

The Big Bad Wolf[+4] - Where Koth goes, there goes terror. Or at least a pack of giant wolves, which is the next best thing. While he cannot truly command them, his position as Alpha ensures their aid in his journeys. Koth feels truly at home amongst them, and often acts as if he was a wolf himself.

Animal cunning[+2] - Though he lacks subtlety and is quite ignorant in many areas, his gut most often steers him right.

Childish[-2] - When Koth wants something, he wants it with all his being. When he does something, he does it wholeheartedly. Until, that is, he gets bored. Then he does something else.
Curious and full of wonder, Koth has never really left the stage where he can become best friends with anyone he meets, even if they are trying to kill each other at the time.

Phase shifting[+2] - Koth slips slightly out of sync with what most would call "reality" and partway into somewhere else entirely. What use is a city wall when he can ride right through it? What use is a locked chest when he can reach inside without ever opening the lid? What use is all your fancy armor when he can reach inside your chest and puck your heart out?

Core Value: Freedom and emotion.
Koth will never understand why people have to make things so complicated. Everyone should just do what they want, and fight or talk out any conflicts. All this Law and Duty stuff just gets in the way. Maybe one day, Koth will make people see that's the best way, and everyone will be happy.
Slavery is a thing that just shouldn't exist, and Koth is doing his part to make that true, one slaver at a time.

Sax Battler fucked around with this message at Jan 5, 2013 around 23:51

Mar 3, 2011

Spider-Man's Amazing Construction Company

Andra - Andaria

"Bloody hell," Andra muttered, shuffling to her feet and wiping her mouth; she felt pretty damned good now, certainly, but hacking up gunk from her lungs for the last few days has tasted more than a bit unpleasant. Gathering her clothes and armor - and checking to ensure that she still has all of her possessions, human nature being what it is - she heads down to the common room of the inn she's booked.

The innkeep - let's call him Angus - is cleaning up the common room, which makes it easy enough for Andra to get his attention. "I need eggs, bacon, as much bread as you can find, and a whole mess of mead," she tells the man, handing him several coins from her dwindling supply and considering, for a moment, that at some point she's going to have to find some bloody income.

That point isn't now, though; there's still enough left in her mustering-out pay that she can afford to keep herself fed and housed for a bit longer yet. So why fret about it now?

Once she's eaten enough for three - hey, she's got several days of sickness to make up for - Andra hits the town, chatting with locals and getting a sense of what's going on and where she might find some trouble. Hey, maybe there are bandits about that need killing or whatever. That's always exciting.

Using Charming as Hell [+4] to get the lay of the land and get a sense of what's on the minds of the locals, for good or ill.

DivineCoffeeBinge posted:

Andra of the Verdant Isle

Birthplace: The Verdant Isle is a moderately large island off the eastern coast of a prosperous trading nation. It is governed as a Gynocracy, with all major political positions held by women, though the rest of their society - including the military - has gender parity; this isolates the Isle politically, if not geographically. Their economy remains largely agricultural in nature, with salt pork and wool being their two most major exports, and a small, well-trained military has thus far proven adequate to maintain their independence and sovereignty. Think 'generic fantasy island' with minor undercurrents of Scots and Irish cultural mores, with a dash of more modern gender issues coming to the fore politically.

Backstory: Andra held the rank of Captain in the armed forces of the Verdant Isle, spending most of her time training for battles that never came; the vast majority of military action came from fending off the occasional pirate raid or chasing down small bands of bandits that occasionally sprang up after a bad harvest forced impoverished villagers to turn to lawlessness. Major battles? Those never really seemed to happen.

Until, of course, one did.

The masked admiral known only as The Grey Dragon had served as a privateer in the service of a small city-state during one of their interminable wars with other small city-states; when the war came to an end and his services were no longer needed, though, the man decided that he wasn't quite ready to give up his life of conflict, and turned to piracy. Amassing a fleet and a loyal crew of cutthroats and buccaneers, the Dragon sailed up and down the coast, looting and pillaging as he went.

Several nations declared the Grey Dragon a menace to shipping, and a joint task force made up of naval detachments from several nations set out to destroy his fleet; the Verdant Isle sent three ships, and aboard each was a marine detachment - led, in one case, by Captain Andra.

The battle proved far more brutal than any had anticipated, however, with massive casualties on all sides. With a mighty crash, the vessel carrying Andra's detachment rammed the Grey Dragon's flagship, and she leapt aboard without hesitation... but Andra's ship was then rammed by a pirate vessel, and began sinking before more than a handful of Andra's fellow marines could join her. Surrounded and vastly outnumbered, the men and women of the Isle hefted their weapons and prepared to give as good an account of themselves as they might.

When the vessel was finally boarded by another ship in the allied flotilla, the sailors there found Andra kneeling on the top deck, panting for breath, surrounded by blood and gore, her sword bloodied and notched - the only living being aboard the entire vessel. She refused to tell the tale of what occurred, save to say that her compatriots had fought bravely and well.

Afterwards... well, suffice it to say that the pastoral Verdant Isle no longer seemed to suit her. It was too small, too quiet. Andra resigned her commission and set out into the world, to find what adventure she may.


Doughty Warrior [+4]: Andra is skilled with a vast array of weaponry and styles of personal combat.

Charming as Hell [+4]: Andra achieved the rank of Captain not because she is a skilled tactician or strategist - she isn't - but because she's eminently likable; her soldiers would follow her to the gates of hell. She makes a good first impression.

Naval Experience [+2]: though she prefers to be on dry land, Andra has served aboard naval vessels long enough to be at home aboard ship, and to know to trade in her metal armor for boiled leather or cloth.

Divine Quality: Supernatural - Unstoppable [+2]: recently Andra has found herself simply tougher than she used to be. Wounds do not pain her as they once did, and they heal leaving minimal scarring; she can act for longer times before feeling fatigued, and she rarely gets sick. It's not quite a comicbook-style healing factor, but she's a tough chick.

Foible: Bores Easily [-2]: Andra lived a quiet, calm life for many years, and she's tired of it. She craves adventure and excitement, and patience has ceased to be one of her watchwords.

Personality/Core Values: Andra tries to be calm and level-headed and methodical, and Andra fails every time. She's hot-tempered and impulsive, and likes to have a good time; combat is not a good time in her book, however. Fighting is deadly serious, because at the end of a fight, often, someone is dead... and death weighs on her. She embraces life as a way of running from the guilt of having taken it. She's also got something of a thing for lost causes and underdogs. One day, she knows, she probably should settle down and start a family, but that day won't be any time soon if she has a drat thing to say about it.

Jan 20, 2010

The real power behind countless overlords

Civar Kit'An

"Ugh, what a mess. I don't know why it bothers me after all those years in the forests, but clearly I'll have to do something about it if I want to keep anything down."

No stranger to dirty tasks after many years on the road, Civar immediately starts cleaning the taproom. He quietly gathers up all the empty mugs the innkeepers sons had been too drunk to collect the night, no make that the morning before. After that he quietly and thoroughly empties the ashes from the fireplace before gathering up all the dirty rushes and placing them in a neat stack on the compost heap. As he turns back to the taproom he idly wonders why he didn't just toss the trash on the compost heap. Still possessed by a manic need to clean he polishes the bar top until it shines and then organizes the bottles behind it until they're just right. All the while he is working a sense of order and comfort is flowing from him into everything he touches. The rushes beneath his feet. The tables and chairs and mugs. The bar and the booze, all are touched by a sense of order and stability.

Finished at last he surveys his handiwork. The bottles are arranged... uniquely. They're ordered so that the first letter of the labels spell out his name. And there's something about the shape the form too... Civar shrugs, unable to put his finger on it and turns to head for the inn's baths. He'd heard talk of sage named Allepo who lived here, and it wouldn't do to show up on his doorstep smelling so.

Tinker +4 & Order(Divine Magic) +2 to imbue the taproom with a sense of order and stability that will comfort anyone of who enters.

LLSix posted:

Civar Kit'an

I have shod stallions and oxen.
I beggared Trallis of Trevorn.
I have passed through the Forest of Sorrow
and left with both my sanity and my life.
I was chased by an angry mob at an age that most
still cling to their mother's apron strings.
I tread paths by moonlight that others
fear to speak of during day.
I have talked to sparrows, loved women,
and forged puzzles to make the sages weep.
You may have had your knives sharpened by me.

Tinker +4:
A traveling blacksmith and handyman. I walk the land meeting people and sharpening their wood axes. Shoeing their horses, forging plowshares, and occasionally other things. It's amazing what you can forge out a few scraps of iron and the goodwill you can earn by doing so.

Alchemist +4: Sure, I know a thing or two about plants. Any man who travels as much as I do needs to know which leaves taste good in a stew and which can reduce swelling. He also needs to know which will leave him lying in a ditch with purple spots covering his cooling corpse, but I don't tell people that much, unless they're in the mood for a scary tale. I get accused of witchcraft enough without telling my customers that I could poison them if I wanted to. Much less the stranger things some herbs can do. My beer is real popular though; anytime I can spend long enough in one place to brew it that is.

Stage Magician +2: I'm often the most exciting visitor in years to pass through the small towns I ply my trade in. A little slight of hand and a friendly smile get you further than just a friendly smile. Some of the things I've learned can look like magic to the simple people who live in small towns. Knowing how to make them see what I want them to see or tell them what they want to hear can be the difference between a delighted town and one chasing after me with torches and pitchforks.

Poor -2:
I live hand to mouth a lot of days. The only things of value I own are my tools and I've had to sell my horse and pull the cart myself more than once. I spend every coin and favor I get on hunting down old stories and scrolls. I would give everything I have just for a hint of what killed my parents.

Order(Magic) +2:
Ever since the Night of Starfall I've been able to make things work better, imbue them with more order. It's like I can see all the little pieces of things and encourage them to fall into line and work together the way they should. Imagine you only ever saw rivers, and never the raindrops that flowed together to make mighty torrents and then all of a sudden you could sense the way the rain drops combined and help them co-operate even more than they already were. Help them flow more smoothly and with greater force. I can't see the raindrops that make up the river or anything like that, but I have a sense of how they interact now, and can help them co-operate better. When I sharpen a knife I can guide all the separate iron grains into lining up so that they hold an edge longer. (I'm seeing this as working like the order mages of Recluce if you've read that series. At this rank I would think that it could only affect items, not people directly.)

Personality: Extroverted vagabond. I always have a tale, a joke, and a smile ready. My professionally open and sincere smile is a weapon I wield to separate fools from their money and wisemen from their lore. I'll sacrifice anything except another person to get vengeance on my parent's killers.[/i]

Dec 15, 2007


Kovar - Taeless

The game was so simple now, his every mistake and the path he should have taken as plain to him as the table before him. Looking further back every error that had lead up to this place jutted out at him and he wondered how he could have ever been so blind. He now saw the signs of the king's impending betrayal written all across his memory, and the counter-plan he could have employed to block it seems like child's play to him now. Several hours pass as the general is lost in his reverie, dissecting every decision he had ever made, now aware of exactly what he should have seen and done at each juncture.

Enough of this navel-gazing. The past is the past and there is little I can do to change it, what I must focus on is the future. So the general looks forward and the tree of possibilities that was daunting the night before is now almost painfully simple. Weeks of malaise surviving on what pittance he had scrounged when he had washed ashore, blasted away by the light of revelation. A single path sparkles like a jewel in this thoughts, the road to his kingdom and his revenge. First he would need a base and an army, and not just any army. He required an army he had built with his own two hands, with troops ready to kill for him, to die for him. With his new clarity he would be best served by troops who would carry out without hesitation any order no matter how ghoulish or bizarre it may appear to them.

The solution to this first hurdle came as easily as everything else has this morning. What he required was a village, isolated and cut-off from the outside world. A village under threat from some outside force of bandits, that loathed their oppressors but were unable to oppose them. A place where he could train them, mold them into a fighting force of his imagining. Then use their victory of their oppressors to cement their devotion to him, leaving him able to transform the town into his base, a hidden source of fighters whose loyalty and ferocity would become legend.

The path before him as clear as glass, he stands. The first matter of business was to locate a village that met his criterion. So, with renewed vigor he made his way around the tavern, using his natural charm to extract information and rumors about such matters. With each new answer another piece of the puzzle appears, and with his knowledge of the needs of a force large enough to oppress the village he seeks he narrows down the location and narrows it again, until finally the location of the place he seeks will be revealed.

Trying to find a village that meets Kovar's needs(1.Fairly isolated, some place with little chance of outside aid that can be later used as a hidden fortress. 2. Being exploited by bandits or an equivalent force, whom they hate but are unable to oppose. 3. With a populace that he can slowly indoctrinate and mold into the army he requires.)

Powerful Charisma[+4] - To use Kovar's natural presence to pump the locals for information he can use to try and determine the location of such a village.

Experienced General[+4] - To apply his knowledge of the logistical requirements of a large force to help narrow down the list by identifying areas in which rumors indicate the right type of bandits are located. Also, to evaluate facts and rumors to select a village of the right temperament to be indoctrinated and trained.

Valhawk posted:

Kovar, Lion of King’s Mountain, Butcher of Pravda

Born on the island of Mirn, Kovar was the son of a well-established military family. Mirn is a hereditary monarchy with a wide gap between the nobility and commoners, and no room for movement between the classes. As far as non-nobles went those who reached the middle-ranks of the military(there were no common generals) lived comfortably. Taught the ways of the blade, and spear, and of battle since he was small, Kovar proved a natural soldier and a gifted tactician.

Once he was of age, Kovar joined the island’s army like his father and his father before him. His natural talent and skill propelled him meteorically through the ranks, becoming the youngest colonel in the history of the kingdom. Things likely would have remained this way if not for the war. Five years after making colonel, a group of nobles dissatisfied with the the loss of their prerogatives under the past king, launched a rebellion. Civil war broke out, and the royalists seemed to be on the losing side.

During the course of the civil war, a battle occurred at a place called King’s Mountain. As the battle dragged on the rebels seemed sure to win, and capture the arms store on the western side of the mountain. This seemed especially true when a primitive bomb detonated in the general’s tent, killing the entirety of the command-staff. Suddenly the most senior officer available Kovar took command over the battered royalist army. With a series of brilliant feints followed by a vicious counterattack into the center of the enemy’s formation lead by Kovar himself, he managed to turn the tide of the battle. The noble army, battered after the surprise defeat retreated to their strongholds, and the royalists troops feted their new hero, calling him the Lion of King’s Mountain for his masterful command and ferocity in battle.

When news of the victory arrived back at the capital, the king did the unthinkable, exorcising royal prerogative he promoted Kovar to the rank of Grand-General placing him in command of the Royal army. Over the next 6-months, General Kovar launched a series of lightning raids aimed at destroying the supply network of the rebels, followed by three assaults in quick succession on rebel strongholds. His repeated victories and tendency to lead from the front simply served to reinforce the stories of his genius, and his men’s adulation of him.

By the time siege of the final rebel stronghold began, Kovar was already a hero to the commoners and to the military. It was perhaps for this reason that the king had engaged in secret negotiations with the nobles to broker a deal. In exchange for paltry concessions and a general pardon the nobles would end their rebellion, and renew their vows of fealty. Kovar knew nothing of this arrangement, and when he lead a small detachment to get a lay of the land he was shocked to come upon several rebel villages that had been slaughtered to the last man, woman, and child.

When the peace was announced, he was shocked. Even more so when rumors started to circulate that he had been responsible for the massacre of noble villages, and it was his brutality that lead to their “surrender”. Of course, when the members of the unit that had been with him started to disappear, he feared the worst. These fears were realized when a number of confessions of troops having taken part in the massacres appeared. Broken soldiers repeated the same story in every detail, and to Kovar what was happening was clear, he had been sold out by his king. He had become too popular, a potential threat to the king, he quickly realized what was coming, but was helpless to do anything to stop it. With a mournful certainly the pieces fell into place: the king’s shocked reaction, the show trials for his innocent subordinates, and finally his own trial. The verdict, exile.

Mirn was no ordinary island, it was surrounded by a magical sea. The sea was endlessly stormy, and only safe passage could be secured by use of a magical device passed down from king to king. This meant that when Kovor was stuffed onto a small boat with his trusted lieutenant he was fully expected to die. In the end, he only survived because his lieutenant sacrificed himself on his behalf. With his dying breath, the man who had been besides Kovar since King’s Mountain, commanded his superior to live on and to avenge him and all of their comrades by returning one day to dethrone the traitor-king.


Weaponmaster[+2] - Sword, spear, staff, mace, whip, bow, sling. Kovar is well versed in all the weapons of war, and it quite able to find a weapon almost anywhere he goes and use it well.

Powerful Charisma[+4] - There is just something about the general that makes him irresistible. Those with weaker wills fall in line at his command, and those with stronger bend beneath the pressure of his desire. He wields this potent weapon with a natural flare.

Experienced General[+4] - Kovar has lead men in battle, he has managed campaigns, held conquered towns. In short he knows what needs to be done to run a war and maintain an army and he knows how to do it.

Outcast[-2] - Kovar has been exiled from his homeland. Barred from returning to the land he called home, and to those from that land known only for the incident, a coward and incompetent.

Divine Strategist[+2] - Kovar has been granted the gift of perfect strategy. No longer does he struggle in the mists of uncertainty, all becomes clear before his gifted eyes and the perfect counters and strokes come as naturally as breathing. It is not just war where the general can wield his heavenly skill. Trade, diplomacy, oratory all are matters of proper strategy, war by other means, and all flow just as naturally to the general as battle itself.

Core Value: Conquest and Revenge. His rise followed by his fall has awakened a hunger within Kovar. He has seen how fickle fortune can be when you rely on the patronage of kings and nobles. If he truly wishes to revenge himself against the traitor-king, and to secure his own future then he must forge an empire of his own. Only then will he be able to build an ideal state, one which he will use to dethrone the traitor-king and his nobles.

Jan 23, 2012

Check yourself. You're on fire


Cyriss tilted her head. That was odd- not the whispers, they were pretty normal- but the clock didn't seem to have any wants yesterday.

Shrugging her shoulders, Cyriss got out her tools, and started to disassemble the clock. Looking at the parts strewn out before her, the artificer paused. Pulling out a few select gears out, Cyriss pulled out her rune writing material. Just as she was about to start scribing, she rolled her eyes and shrugged.

"Quit yammering, Wilson. I'm quite aware that something is off, clock's don't normally communicate. I'm planning on figuring out what's up with it once I fix it back up." Turning her head towards her other shoulder, she continued. "Miranda, if you'll take Wilson off of me, I'll probably be able to work a little better."

The voices fading back down to a whisper, Cyriss started to scribe some runes of lubrication onto the clock, allowing for it to run without oil. Concentrating, Cyriss imparted a bit of magical energy into the runes, so the clock would run without oil. Quickly putting it back together, she wound it up, quickly rewriting the rune to make the clock run without rewinding it.

Placing the clock back down on the bedside, she smiled.

"There we go. How's that Clockwork?" Cyriss murmured to the clock, not really expecting a response.

Artificer [+4] Taking apart and putting the clock back together without any harm coming to the clock

Rune Writing [+4] Scribing a few runes to not allow the clock to not require anymore oil and not requiring being rewound every day or so.

Also, attempting to reestablish contact with the clock, so I suppose Machine Empathy +2 as well


Cyriss Thane, The Artificer

Birthplace: Cyriss was born in Hai-kan in Konwey, but was raised on the road by a surrogate father. She currently resides in the capital city of Taeless.

Backstory: Cyriss was orphaned at a young age, her parents dying of a plague that ripped through the city of Hai-kan. Taken in by an artificer, the two of them smuggled their way out of the city- escaping the quarantine and the bodies and fires that filled the streets. Leaving the city behind, they made their way from country to country, making trinkets and in some cases, small machines, to get by. Helping her surrogate father, Cyriss quickly learned the tools of the trade, and then started to surpass her father.

When they finally made it to Taeless, where they were welcomed in with open arms, and they quickly found their way into a nice little workshop where they started to make create things that they only dreamed of making in their travels. In Taeless, Cyriss learned that she had the talent for scribing magical runes onto objects- allowing her to imbue them with various magical properties. As Cyriss grew up, her workshop became quite sought after, as many of the machines that she created were considered to be some of the best.

When Starfall hit, Cyriss found that she was able to control machinery telepathically, but it gave them intelligence as well as a bit of sentience. She is unsure if this is a blessing or a curse just quite yet. Either way, she is starting to realize that this power is not normal, and it's possible that she's now more than human.

Cyriss' biggest issue is that she's a little off the rails. Rumor are said, though not to her face, that between her parents dying, plus maybe a little bit of plague screwing around with her mind, may have thrown her into the deep end. While the machines she creates are getting better and better, they're also getting more and more lifelike. It's suspected that eventually she's going to start dissecting humans- hopefully corpses- in order to try and figure out how to make a robotic human.



Artificer [+4]- Cyriss is one of the best artificers in the land, being able to build anything if she put her mind to it. Her particular specialty lies in creating complex mechanical items, particularly vehicular machines.

Rune Writing [+4]- Cyriss is a skilled writer of magical sigils, allowing her to imbue objects and creations with magical properties and thus allowing her to enchant basic items. By doing this she can also give additional power to objects that she creates, cementing her as great asset to her nation.

Mathematical Mind [+2]- Cyriss' mind is incredibly gifted in logic and mathematics, allowing her to quickly and efficiently create, as well as being able to quickly find patterns that can be used to greater effect.

Machine Empathy [+2]- Since Starfall, Cyriss has been able to mentally link with other machines, giving her total control over them. This power also seems to grant a small amount of sentience to some of the more complex machines that she controls- particularly ones inscribed with magical runes.


Insane [-2]: Despite her genius, Cyriss is insane. While most of the time she seems perfectly fine, there are times that she does things that aren't quite right. Despite all this, she is still kept out of asylums, probably because of the mechanical items she produces. That, and there's no asylum anywhere that will take in someone that can build a walking deathtrap from scrap metal.

Personality/Core Values Cyriss is loving crazy, but in general, she just wants to keep working on more and more complex machines, so the government keeps her happy. Otherwise, she doesn't care what happens to the outside world.

Comments/Criticisms welcomed.

berenzen fucked around with this message at Nov 18, 2012 around 07:00

Mar 30, 2012

Suraj - Mudhal

He sat on his cot in the room he shared with three other Unseen, outsiders of the default lowest caste huddled together for warmth and protection. The early morning light streamed through an opening cut in the stone of their basement tenement, along with noise of footsteps and merchants setting up shop from the adjoining street. There had been a light streaming through that opening last night as well. It was hard to recall clearly, but he was sure he'd looked up from their filthy chamber and seen a burning light streaking across the night sky, only to catch it in his left hand.

No matter how he stared at it now, he couldn't see the strange glow from his hand he'd dismissed so easily the night before. Was it real, or had he dreamt it? It had to be more than some glamour or trick of the light- rather it was a light-trick. One that had to be uncovered. The first step was that streak across the sky. If that was real, than the glow had surely been real as well.

The possibility that he could be mixing dream and reality was considered and diligently set aside. He had something to look forward to this way, at least. An interesting adventure before he had to return to picking pockets for bread.

After climbing out of the cot and replacing his clothes from the day before with an inconspicuous red cloak he'd pilfered, he tiptoed around the sleepers and out of their meager dwelling onto the street. He was headed away from the docks and the fishmarket he slept under, up to the official district where his family had once served. He remembered an observatory there from when he was a boy, an ornate building mounted on a cliff with its lens facing the sky and the far ocean, not having to look down at the mere mortals dwelling below. He was going to get inside, and see if they had seen the streaking light as well.

Going into the higher part of Mudhal where high-caste families and officials live, to infiltrate the academic observatory there. Eyes Always Open [+2] to keep an eye out for guards and locate a way inside, Sneakthief [+4] to get through the official district and make my way inside the observatory without being detected.


Suraj, a lowborn thief

Birthplace: The rich port city of Mudhal, located in verdant eastern Eosia. Known for its artistic and often quite elaborate ship design, its harbors are filled with junks with colorful sails and its bazaars are filled with pickpockets. Has a close trading relationship with the walled city of Kiris slightly further inland.

Backstory: Suraj was born to a low-caste family of hereditary servants, but in some ways he had the ambition of a noble. While serving in the home of a wealthy customs official in Mudhal, his youthful habit of sneaking around led him to overhear their daughter's lessons in literacy, mythology, and the proper way for a leader to conduct themself, including what was owed to them. Simultaneously entranced by the trappings of the highborn and frustrated that he was locked into a place of servitude, he abandoned his duties and fled the household as an adolescent, bringing great shame to his family name. By exiting the rigid caste system he had, by default, fallen into the very lowest caste- the Unseen, from whom all citizens usually must ritually avert their eyes.

After much struggling to survive and cursing his fate, he eventually discovered in the bowels of wealthy Mudhal a circle of lifelong Unseen who had banded together to steal what they could and share their findings. Many were misshapen and some had become quite vicious, but he was one of them now, and under their tutelage he turned his early knack for sneaking into the skills of professional thievery. But his low station only inflamed his secret desire for more than this, even as he slept in the sewers, even after the Starfall.


Sneakthief [+4] - A natural at skulking in the shadows and cutting purses in the blink of an eye. Understands the practice and the philosophy of taking things without being detected.

Mind Above His Station [+2] - Familiar with the questions of philosophy and cosmology usually pondered by those with time to be idle. Can comprehend and relate to complex mystical and political phenomena that would normally be reserved for a gentleman philosopher.

Eyes Always Open [+2] - Constantly watching his surroundings for secret exits, drawn weapons, and the subtle signs of a changing mind. Very perceptive, particularly of things others don't want to be revealed.

Friend of the Unseen [+2] - Easily relates to those who work outside of mainstream society, cultists and lepers and hermits. Can befriend or at least understand the workings of those who have no place in the daylight by curse or by choice, not least the Unseen of Eosia.

Ambitious [-2] - Suraj wants what's coming to him, and is impatient to claim it. Aside from earning the disapproval of polite superiors, he's prone to taking rash action and jumping at perceived opportunities to raise his station.

Hand of Glory [+2] - He can make his left hand glow with an unearthly ghost-light that compels people to focus on it and clouds their mind while they do, making them suggestible.

Personality/Core Values: A dirty urban thief in this life who could've been a philosopher in another. Suraj is ambitious and cunning, but he's also fairly thoughtful. There's a little bit of greed and spite for the ruling castes in his desire to be powerful, but there's also a real appreciation for the concepts of nobility and leadership, concepts he thinks he understands better by virtue of seeing society from the very bottom.

Zombie #246
Apr 26, 2003

Murr rgghhh ahhrghhh fffff

Daveron - Drunkenly Stumbling around Arandia

Daveron coughs and sputters as he wakes up, his head heavy with hangover. He hears the members of his family yelling, something about Ilvis missing; it sticks in his head long enough to remind him to wake up. Groaning, he turns over onto his stomach to pull himself out of bed, grabbing the extravagant curtain by accident, pulling the steel curtain rod down onto his head with a bang (and a yell, some obscenities, and more groaning).

Crawling, clutching his head, he heads over to a crystal full of some of the finest wine in the region, and chugs it down with long gasping swallows, coughing it onto his shirt. This was not a time to drink for flavor and spirit, this was a time to drink for necessity...he's have to go outside. His eyes dart out the window nervously.

"Oh sweet merciful whoevers...look at all the poo poo hanging precariously around the streets," he mumbles to himself. He spots rakes sitting eerily close to the road, waiting for a foot to stride over them; he sees cans of dye sitting above doorways, waiting for the door to be opened just a little too far.

"What the gently caress, who even put those there!" he grumbles angrily to himself, looking down at the street. This was going to be a rough day. He looked back and grabbed some harder alcohols, and chugged those down.


Later on, he stumbles out of the house after learning that Ilvis is indeed missing, along with her horse Chestnut. Not unusual for her to be gone, but unusual for her to be gone and no one knowing where she is. He walks through town, gaining some composure from the liquid courage.

Walking up to random commoners, and perhaps people he knew, he began grumbling and in some cases a tone of authority demanding to know if anyone had seen Ilvis, or where she might have been.

Action: Find some clues as to where Ilvis may have been. Using +2 Noble Blooded: She's noble, he's noble, common streetrats worship the ground they walk on (or so he believes). Either way, someone somewhere will have recognized her (and him by extension). No real threats used but implications of "hey, I have a powerful uncle/father, and you best let me know what you know."


Once, he was something. He was a great fighter, he had all the ladies, it was almost as if he was guided by destiny; numerous victories were under his belt, he could best anybody. Something happened though, one day, travelling by himself. He was so smug in his sureness that he felt he could even defeat the old gods, wherever they happened to be.

He yelled out such, and then was promptly thrown from his horse, rolled down the hill and struck his head on a large rock, knocking him out for several hours. When he awoke, his face was soaked with blood from his split head, and he groggily pulled himself through the rain-slicked mud to his horse, and the horse carried him home.

From then on, he was unable to win any fight; he stumbled over his feet, his sword was missing, he had a rock in his shoe, so on and so forth. Soon it became even worse; day to day activities were frought with peril. Birds poo poo on him, he fell down stairs, orphan boys would beat him up and take his gold pouch.

Years of this went by, and he drank. And drank. And drank. It seemed alchohol was the only thing that prevented this bad things from happening to him. He drank from sun-up to sun-down, and only received minor bruises in his day to day activities.

One day, he was going to participate in a tournament so grand that he was sure it would win him his luck back; he knew the only way he'd survive it if he was sideways from being so drunk. Then he slept through it. His little cousin won it instead (as she told him later). He adored her, and wasn't jealous, but hell if that put him in a bad mood.

That night, drinking in a bar, he yelled out at people in the street, "You there! Why don't you fall down stairs all the time!" And then he turned to another, yelling "Why don't you step in horse poo poo all day long!" He continued to yell these things at random passers-by...and to his amazement, these things happened to them as he watched.

Setting his drink down slowly, he looked wide eyed around him. Turning to one of the bar patrons, he looked down at the patron's stool, and the stool collapsed, the man sprawled out with beer all over his clothes.

Daveron sat slack-jawed. He controlled people's bad luck.

+2 Noble Blood He's blooded, and gets by mostly with this trait.

+4 Dirty Fighter Despite being good at his ability, he's always favored dirty tricks to gain an edge.

+4 Strong Body He's built like a tank, and is able to take some incredible hits and perform feats of strength.

+2 Bad Luck (Supernatural Power) He's been stuck with bad luck so long he's somehow gained the ability to manipulate it.

+2 Truth

+2 Death

+2 Knowledge

+2 Hate

-2 Drunk Drinking for years and years has cemented it into his lifestyle.

-2 Uneasy is the head that wears the crown : The well-being of his people and followers are now of concern to Daveron. If they are unwell as a whole, if they suffer, he suffers as well. The well-being of a ruler depends on the well-being of their people.

Core Values Reluctant Warrior, bitter, grumpy

Zombie #246 fucked around with this message at Aug 31, 2013 around 05:34

Apr 8, 2010

Julianus - Fulkshire

Something was off. Julianus couldn't quite put a finger on it, but somehow everything seemed...sharper. At first he just put it down to feeling more resolved after making his decision to leave last night, but after a few minutes he had to discard that idea. Little by litte, he noticed more things about the barracks where he had slept. The snoring of guards still asleep, the stench of old laundry, a cold wind coming from a draughty window, all the things he had got used to ignoring, were now at the forefront of his mind. Within minutes the deluge of sensations became almost overwhelming and he hastened to pack up his things and hurry outside.
When he went to hand in his bresignation at the office, the clerk took it with almost depressing indifference. Amongst more than a hundred guards a single corpoal, no matter how talented, wouldn't be missed much. As he hit the streets the assault on his senses became almost unbearable. It was like he was actively trying to listen in on every conversation within earshot at the same time, and to his surprise he was almost succeeding. And the stench...! He was vaguely disgusted with himself because he had managed to ignore it all this time.
Julianus spent the next few hours walking through the city, visting friends and saying his farewells. Then he sold what belongings he couldn't carry with him and invested his savings in a cheap horse and a light travel pack. Even though he wasn't used to riding he reasoned it still beat walking, especially considering he did not actually know where his journey would end.

As he exited the city through the northern gate, Julianus felt a pang of something uncomfortably close to regret. He had been here for years, yet he wrapped up his entire life in just a few hours. Shaking himself out of his pensive mood, Julianus forged on ahead. There was no point in dwelling on this kind of things, if anything it strengthened his resolve that there must be something greater waiting for him.
After the bustle of the city had receded behind him, his sharpened senses continued to pick things up with unusual clarity. The chirping of the birds seemed more melodious than ever and the fresh smell of the trees was downright invigorating. Riding down the road to Harvan, Julianus felt a smile tugging at his mouth. Whatever had happened to him, he might just come to like it.

Nothing that exiting yet, Julianus sets out to travel northward from Fulkshire to Harvan at a fairly swift pace.


Perestroika posted:


Born in a small village on a crossroads somewhere in Arandia, Julianus grew up in his parents' small roadside tavern. They raised him well, and he grew into an honest and upstanding young man. Soon enough his head was filled with exciting stories about the big cities told by passing travellers and he became somewhat bored with his simple life at home. When he was finally old enough he said goodbye to his parents, packed up, and left home to seek his luck in the nearby Fulkshire.

Julianus had always been comfortable among people, and he settled into his new surroundings with ease. More through coincidence than intent he ended up with a post in the city watch and took to it like a fish to water. He found great satisfaction in helping the citizens of his quarter and soon garnered a reputation as an uncommonly upstanding watchman among the people. Despite his talent for the job he never rose through the ranks, partly because he had no mind for the paperwork but also because he felt no need for the money or power that came along with promotions.

Even though he was happy with this life, something was missing. A tiny voice in the back of his head seemed to whisper that he could, and should be doing more. He began to feel ever more restless until he could barely stand it, and when the stars streaked across the sky it seemed as good a sign as any. The next day he tendered his resignation, gathered his belongings and once again set out into the world, just walking along the road leading northwards with no true destination in mind. Maybe he'd find whatever he was seeking in Harvan, maybe he would travel all the way into Eosia.

Mortal Qualities

Arbitrator +4
Julianus has always had a talent for finding satisfying solutions for everyone. Whenever he was called to settle a dispute all parties walked away feeling that justice was served.

Judge of Character +4
In this line of work you need to know what kind of person you're dealing with. Through hard-won (and sometimes painful) experience Julianus has learned to size people up and accurately guess at their nature and motivations.

Constable +2
Some people just don't want to come quietly. Even though he has never received formal training, Julianus is a survivor of many street fights and quite handy with his cudgel.


Simple -2
Julianus is not stupid, really, but nobody would call him smart either. He never went to any kind of school and harbors a certain disdain for higher education, feeling that it only complicates things. He can read and write (barely), but complex topics that might require broader knowledge are usually beyond him and he has no particular desire to rectify that.

Divine Qualities

Superhuman Trait: Unwavering Vigilance +2
Ever since the starfall Julianus finds himself able to notice even the smallest signs of something being amiss at all times. He sees and notices things that others would overlook or take for granted, even through extreme weariness or fatigue.

Julianus is a cheerful and naturally helpful person with a strong innate sense of fairness. There is no higher cause or set of ethics that motivate his actions, he just tries to help wherever he can out of an honest desire to make things better. Even though he maintains some of his idealism, his time on the streets caused him be quite unyielding at times, especially when he witnesses an injustice. To him, anybody who willfully harms others needs to be stopped and made to undo or repair the damage they caused.

Perestroika fucked around with this message at Nov 17, 2012 around 21:40

Jan 3, 2012

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

Fylas the Doctor - Eisos (Laboratory)

Fylas awoke like any other morning, with the neighborhood coming to life around him. The sounds of old hags selling their home remedies for whatever current affliction infested the area, mixed with the groaning of hungover workers making their way home from the taverns. Without any thought, Fylas lowered himself from the bed and made his way to the window. Malodorous smells assaulted his nose as he saw the familiar sight of the Sun's first rays coming over the walls. This seemed every bit a usual day but as he turned away from the window, something caught his eye. For just a second, it seemed as if there were figures amongst the morning fog rolling through the narrow streets. I must still be tired from working so late last night, he thought to himself. Oh well, off to clean the lab up from last night’s work.

There is always so much to do in the morning. The glassware needs to be cleaned, the tools sterilized, and everything wiped down. After years of doing this however, Fylas had the process down perfect. He was able to get everything done in an hour or less, and still have time for breakfast before starting work. As Fylas was cleaning the operating table, something peculiar happened. When his hand touched one of the rat corpses, its leg moved. “What the hell,” he exclaimed. Cautiously, he brushed his finger against the rat again. Just like before, its leg twitched upon his touch. “This could be interesting,” he said as he began cleaning off the table and preparing the corpse for further study.

Fylas labored for the day, examining and re-examining every aspect of the rat. He had to make sure the movement was not a fluke, or a nerve response, or any other number of possible mundane explanations. For could his research and years of hard work finally have amounted to something? A spark grew in his mind, one that had been smothered for years now. Hope began to renew, could he finally have an avenue to realize his dreams? His laborious efforts could finally bear fruit, leading him on a long path that leads to far more than he could ever imagine.

Doctor [+4] - Though Fylas’ educational learning was in human anatomy, his apprenticeship with his master involved many experiments on animals. Also, his familiarity with human anatomy gives him the skill to experiment on its body.

Lab Rat [+4] - Original gangster of the basement laboratory.

Necromancy [+2] - Using this to try and analyze the possible magic between Fylas and the rat, and to extract any essence/soul that could reside within.

Activities: Fylas examines the rat, trying to determine the cause of the twitching corpse.

goodness posted:

Fylas the Doctor

Birthplace: From the outskirts of Eisos, the capitol.

Backstory: Fylas was an intelligent young boy, adventuring through the streets of Eisos during the day while being read to at night by his father. That all changed when the sickness began. Neighbors grew sicker, only a few at first but quickly the whole neighborhood was in its grasp. When the creeping death came to Fylas' house, they could only pray to be saved as they had no means to pay for medicine. Unfortunately, prayer was not enough and his mother was taken by the sickness.

When his father lay on death's door, and there was not even hope left for them, a knock came at the door. It was a doctor, one offering his services. The father, with nothing to give the visitor, pleaded for him to save his life. He offered the only thing left to him, the most valuable thing.

That night the father got his life back, but lost his son. Fylas was taken as payment, luckily to be trained by the doctor in his arts. Unluckily for Fylas' future patients, the arts learned to him were of the darkest kind.

On the night of the Starfall, Fylas was in his lab as usual. He had been working on extracting the very essence of life, the soul if you will, of a living being. However, until now he had been largely unsuccessful, losing many subjects (animal) in the process. This night was special, a sequence of events which would drive Fylas' work into the foreseeable future.

Mortal Qualities:

Doctor [+4] - Through training under the doctor and studying extensively, Fylas as great knowledge of the human body, its workings and properties.

Clandestine [+2] - During his apprenticeship, Fylas learned to mask his activities and live in the shadows. Missing corpses, dead animals and mysterious events tend to draw attention if you are not too careful.

Lab Rat [+4] - With almost all his time spent in the lab, Fylas feels more home there than anywhere else. He knows his way around the lab like you know how to unclasp a bra (well maybe not YOU).

Divine Qualities:

Necromancy [+2] - In his apprenticeship, Fylas was taught the theories of necromantic magic. And though his master was never able to realize any of the knowledge, Fylas has just begun to awaken his power.

Personality/Core Values: Though Fylas is experimenting with Necromancy and has had a sordid past with the master, he was not always corrupted. He used to be a young boy, with parents that loved him and a gleeful childhood. That changed when he was taken from his family. He resents himself for not being able to save his mother, from death, and his father, from selling Fylas. This is his drive for being in control, to have mastery over life and death (his and others). And with the events on the night of the Starfall, he now has another life to save.

goodness fucked around with this message at Nov 19, 2012 around 08:59

Apr 1, 2011

Ambassador to Moonlandia


He had been enjoying great dream, he was lording over a great mass of low peasants and displaying his grandeur when he woke up. He heard noises from his common room....where he kept his tomes. Cursing he sneaked towards the area and saw several thieves ransacking his room.

"Fools, this will be quick" he thought as he stepped forward, summoning his magic...

[+4 Magic [+4 Intelligence] and [+2 Charisma] to use my magic to scare the crap out of the thieves and either force them to leave in a panic (without any of my things) or force them to surrender and beg for mercy.

Jimmy4400nav posted:

Name: Mazir the Soul Eater

Backstory: The Elysian Sands, a wretched and miserable place. So little of anything yet still it’s a crucible a great test, or the desert cares not what your station is, no matter how much influence you have, if you cannot pull your own weight, if you cannot possess the strength of will to eke out a living in is unforgiving heat and grit, you die. The Northman may claim to be tough, but they have plenty of water and plenty of game, something we always wanted. In the Sands everything must be used, nothing can go to waste and what some would call cruelty to others, we saw as brilliant necessity. Have a prisoner? Make him a tool, have him carry the tool and cargo you cannot, put him to work building a tent, have him be a scout, for he knows that to abandon the safety of the group is to die. If he miraculously lives through an escape, then he has earned his right to be free. Nothing is off limits, all must be used.

That includes the “precious” souls of the afterlife. People say they have earned a blessed rest and can finally lay down their burdens. Ha, I have seen these souls, they merely amble about, doing nothing, and we are to ignore this new resource, a new fount of power, a great tool because of societies anathema towards interfering with the dead.

Let me tell you of my first soul, the one I found, I captured, I used, and then I extinguished. I had learned my magic at a young age, I was lucky, my tribe respected spell casters, and where others of the Sand would have chased me out, I was embraced, they saw I was destined for power. I was tutored rigorously, given more tests and trials than any other in the village, warriors had only their body to discipline, I had my mind as well. Yet I did not back down, I thrived, and absorbed more and more knowledge until finally my instructor gave me the ultimate test. I was knocked unconscious and abandoned in the desert, as was our way, for a spell caster must be able to be independent and use all his skills at his disposal. Other wizards are more narrowly focused, by we encourage generalization, thought in truth we will have our narrowness.

For six days I wandered, surviving for food of the meat of small lizards and birds, and taking precious hydration from their blood. I grew weak, and I craved death, for this suffering seemed too much to bear. Then a small caravan came, I thought I had found salvation, but soon this was dashed when I saw the cages. Slavers. They saw me, a thin boy as an easy picking, and I could scarcely summon the strength to make a small fire ball. I thought I saw my fate before me.
Then I saw a light in the sky, I fell for seemingly an eternity before disappearing, but it was enough to change me. My eyes turned a deep black and I could see more than ever. As the slavers drew near, I perceived a small glowing trail of green. Curious I grabbed it and soon I had pulled towards me the soul of an old man, wandering the earth. He babbled some foreign language I knew not, but that’s not what interested me. As I held him, he slowly dissipated into me, as I absorbed him I felt myself renew. As I crushed the last of the old man, I stood and incinerated the slavers with a great fireball, larger than I had ever made. I saw their souls leave their bodies and I consumed them as well, fully restoring myself.

I went to the cages and saw a young woman near death. She was weak, having been taken by these slavers weeks earlier, she was destined to serve her betters, and I knew that it was to be me. I cut her throat and saw her soul leave. I grabbed it and out of curiosity, attacked it to the blade I slew her with. Suddenly, he could not move, and began to be drawn into the blade. It glowed with an unearthly glow as her essence imbued it. I still don’t know what it’s full power is to this day, but I continue to study as I acquire more and more souls. For now objects can serve as a fine cage to hold souls until they are needed The fallen offer many strengths, but only to those with the will and the power to seize upon it!

First Chapter of the Naskah Kuno

Magic [+4] Years of intense study and practice has given Mazir a strong mastery of wizard type spells and abilities.

Intelligence [+4] A being that thirsts for new knowledge and abilities and someone raised in the tough environments of the Sands, Mazir had learned many things and is keen to learn more. Having lived long, he saw had more experiences than most.

Charismatic [+2] Holding such power can attract a certain kind of following, being a skilled orator helps also. Mazir is very persuasive and has a tendency to attract others, be they good or bad.

Divine: Soul Magic [+2]. Can see and capture the souls of the departed. The most common use of them currently is to consume them to replenish himself and extend his life, They can also enchant object, but currently it is unknown what they can do to an object apart from inhabit it and be consumed later.

Foible: -2 Delusions of Grandeur. Constantly has visions of ruling over all and sees himself as the greatest.

Personality/Core Values: Mazir’s only love and respect is strength, not just brutal physical prowess, but cunning and intelligence as well. His life philosophy is that one is always tested and it is in nature for the strong to overcome and the weak to submit to the strong. His singular desire is to become the most powerful person of the world and bend it to himself, but he respects, usually grudgingly the strengths of others he sees.

*Edited my bad spelling, that will teach me to post when I'm drunk *

Jimmy4400nav fucked around with this message at Nov 18, 2012 around 21:58

Oct 28, 2007

Octagon - Rooftop Perch, Taelos

Octagon sat upon his rooftop perch, staring somewhat blankly into the space that the spider and her tiny web occupied. Had he lost it? Was this the beginning of the end, the first crack that would herald madness? Surely the fact that he was questioning himself meant he was still sane. Right? Right.

The merchant lord briefly forgotten as he sought to unravel this rather perplexing mystery set before him. Spiders don't talk.

"Did... did you just speak to me, or am I going mad?"

Octagon, the Spymaster

Taelos, Trade Capital of the World.

Very little is known about the man called Octagon, least of all his real name. What is known is that he was born poor, and lost his parents to the Weeping Death (plague) at an early age. Living on the streets, Octagon became adept at going unnoticed: skulking, hiding, climbing. For many years, he lived as a pickpocket and a sneak-thief. Cutting purses and climbing through unlocked windows put food in his belly, but the constant threat of a run-in with the local Thieves' Guild meant a life of constant paranoia and fear. It was not until Octagon stumbled across a most unlikely treasure—a letter revealing a nobleman's affair—that he began to understand what was truly valuable; secrets. It was then that Octagon began to cultivate his contacts, learning whatever he could, and selling it to the highest bidder. Information was the only truly valuable thing. Gold was merely a means to an end. Every secret is worth something, and some secrets are worth everything.

-Mortal Qualities-

Espionage +4
Climbing, jumping, running, stealing, stabbing, spying. The best spies can do a bit of everything, and Octagon is certainly one of the best.

Discretion +4
Secrets and shadows. The better part of valor. Octagon well knows when to be quiet, when to be hidden, and when to be gone.

Poisoning +2
A blade is messy, a blade is loud, a blade is bold. Poison is a far more practical weapon, as far as Octagon is concerned. Silent, subtle, and swift. Or slow, if one prefers. A versatile tool for a versatile man.

-Divine Qualities-

Supernatural Power: Spider Whisperer +2
He can talk to and understand spiders, and have them to do things. Things like spying. It's kind of creepy.

Non-Combatant -2
If he's done everything right, he shouldn't need to lift a finger at all.

Personality/Core Values
Octagon is, naturally, a very secretive person. Thus he values secrets above all things. He does not seek overt power, but prefers to pull strings from behind the scenes. Nothing is beneath him, if it serves a purpose. Pride will just get a man killed.

Rhjamiz fucked around with this message at Nov 17, 2012 around 11:06

Apr 10, 2010

Vanthos the Bookseller-Basement of the bookshop

It's all Vanthos can do not to collapse in exhaustion or be overcome with joy. He's done it! Now, finally, when the borders between the worlds are weakest, he has succeeded in rending the walls between the planes and calling a creature from beyond. He wants to sing, he wants to dance, he wants to sleep, but he knows that he can not, for he is in as much danger now as he was before, if not more. For the creature has been summoned, but the creature is a being of will, of power. It needs to be controlled. If Vanthor can not do that, he risks his life.

So he forces himself to exercise control, forces himself to have the will to dominate, and addresses the being. "Creature from beyond the veil, I have summoned you. You are in this world upon my sufferance! I thus command you, by the Black Goat of Tullia and the great pact upon which all reality is bound to name yourself and give me your service! If you fail, I shall cast you out into the darkness between the worlds, where you shall live an eternity of agony!" He says the ritual words.

Trying to identify and control the creature. Scholar +4 to identify it, Magical Summoning +2, Persuasion +4 to control it

Name Vanthos the Bookseller

If you walk down the Street of the Scholars, near the Great Library, in the city
 of Eisos, you may come across a small, fairly nondescript shop.  If you enter,
 you will be warmly greeted by the proprietor, who will invite to peruse one of
 the many books and scrolls located throughout the establishment.

This is Vanthos, and you are in his shop.  The family of Vanthos has owned it for
 generations, serving the library and university.  More than simple merchants, but
 less than scholars, as booksellers, they hold a special place in the city.  While
 he lacks noble title or official position, Vanthos can boast that his family 
serves the University.  And it is so.

If you go up the stairs of the shop, you will come to the second story, where 
Vanthos lives with his wife and the one child of his that is not yet grown and 
married.  A happy family, you would think, one at peace.  And you would be right.  
Of course, you will not be allowed up the stairs, for friendly as Vanthos is to 
his patrons, a man's home is his home, and not to be entered into by strangers.

If you were, instead, to go downstairs to the basement, you would see quite a 
different thing.  Oh, no doubt, much of what you see would not surprise you, for 
it is the thing you see in many a basement.  Extra inventory, books in need of 
binding or repair, a scribe's desk for copying, a safe in which Vanthos keeps the 
shop's valuables, a flask of date wine to keep Vanthos happy during his work.  
These are all things one might expect to find in a shop of this type.  

But if you were to cast aside the curtain at one end of the basement, unlock the 
padlocked door you find there, and enter the now open room, you would find 
something very different.  For Vanthos, like his father before him, is a 
demonologist, who has studied the magical arts of summoning demons and other 
creatures from the other planes.  Your heart would chill when you discovered 
this.  For, is not demonology forbidden, by the order of the Phaerach himself?  
Indeed, you would call for the guards.  But, you will not see the room.  No one 
but Vanthos sees the room and lives afterwards, his only guests there the 
sacrifices he uses to seal his dark pacts.

So buy your scroll and go.  Be not fooled by his broad grin, his ingratiating
manner.  It is all but a seeming.  Go and thank whatever gods you believe in that 
your business with Vanthos was on the ground floor, and not the basement.  

-Mortal Qualities-

+4 Scholarship-Vanthos, while not a member of the university himself, is a
 bookseller, and he is familiar with the works he sells.  He is literate, has a 
good base of knowledge, and knows how to research what he does not know.

+4 Persuasion Vanthos is a salesman, and a good one too.  He's talented at 
persuading others to do what he wants

+2 Perceptive  Vanthos is always aware of his surroundings.  He can read 
situations and people and find out what the angles are.

-Divine Qualities-

Supernatural Power: Magic: Demon Summoning +2 

Demonic Prince +2

Good Luck +2

Metals +2


[b]-2 Demon[//b]

Epicurius fucked around with this message at Aug 24, 2013 around 19:17

Mr. Fowl
Mar 8, 2008


Arashan - The Ko

The cloak hangs from one of the crossbeams of Arashan's tent. His dwelling is a humble one, but still befitting that of a man of his stature. It is adorned with a few trophies and gifts from dignitaries, the inner walls dyed with the indigo that is the lifeblood his people. But most of all, it his spacious, for the Amaghar's family.

As it has been every night since the other Circles conspired against him and stole the future from him, he is alone in his tent. His eyes trace the weaves and intricate embroidery of the cloak. It was his father's. Arashan remembers the day he came back with it, himself so small and his father seeming so very, very tall that day. He had been minding the camels, one of his duties as the eldest son of the Amaghar. His father looked so glorious in the morning light atop his camel, veil unpinned and grinning in that mad way of his, the cloak thrown around his shoulders. He was a man who defied the Ko with every breath and had rightfully earned the love and respect of his men. He had just raided a treacherous enclave of Green Men who dared to cheat the Walemundi. He threw the cloak to young Arashan, gold threads glittering in the sunlight, and told him that tonight they would have a feast tonight--at the Green Men's expense. Such extravagances were rare, and he treasured the memory, as he did all memories of his father, precious as water in the desert.

The cloak has changed from his father's day. Still beautiful, with its intricate golden mazes set into the indigo-dyed fabric. But at the center of the maze now sits a grinning demon, a Dervish, trapped and bound to his will now, or so they say. The demon's glittering eyes reveal nothing. Arashan extinguishes his candle and whips the cloak around his shoulders heading out into the cold predawn of the Ko.

The Indigo Circle had not yet reached the next oasis on their great migration, so that night they had camped on the leeward side of a sand dune, those slumbering giants of the desert. It was said that a man of true virtue, sitting atop certain ones for three days and three nights in solitude, could prove his worth and command it to move as he willed. Assuming he survived. And it was the right dune. The sages are ever unclear on such details, Arashan finds. But standing in the shadow one of such giant, as he had many others, he understands why they command such respect. While the dune offers protection from the wind, it can easily consume a poorly planned or unwary camp. Choosing the right dune is a matter of skill, experience, and luck, in order of increasing importance.

He walks up the sand dune, the broad sandals that the Wandering People have perfected over untold generations of penance enabling him to easily ascend, and look upon the coming dawn. The Judging Eye peeks over the horizon, serpent-backed and coming alive with color. At sunrise and sunset, one can almost forget how deadly the Ko can be, much like the Elysian Viper. Beautiful and always deadly. Arashan had seen too many fools fall victim to its venom, dying with a smile drawn across their face.

"The wind...has died," it finally dawns on Arashan what has been bothering him. The Ko is a land of winds. By day they sear the faces of the Wanderers with burning sand and by night it freezes them to the bone. The wind never stops in the Ko. "This is an ill omen." With all the speed available to him, he descends the dune and rounds up his lieutenants.

"Wake the men. We are breaking camp within the hour and pressing onward. The children can eat on camel-back. This place is ill-omened, I fear for our safety if we delay any longer. We can rest at the height of the sun."

Moving the Circle onward towards the next Oasis, one of the Circle's hidden sources of Indigo. This lack of wind gives off bad vibes for Arashan


Ko Wanderer +4
The Indigo Raider with the Blood-Red Hands +4
Negotiator +2

Cloak of the Winds +2

Foible: The Circle Must Not be Broken -2

Jan 29, 2009

Edo Waters, Blackwater

The last thing Edo had wanted to do during Salt Festival was look after his cousin, but that's what he was stuck doing. The little bastard didn't even have the good sense to have gotten better. So rather than spend the night dancing with Josie, he'd been cooped up in the family house with a nettlefish-addled kid.

Naturally, this took the edge off even Edo's naturally sunny disposition. So it's hardly a surprise that this morning, when he went to look after the brat, he did so with a little more force than was entirely warranted.

This morning, when Edo looked at the kid there seemed to something ever so slightly off about Kansai. Like the lines in him were wrong, or the colours, or something. And when he pushed the damp cloth onto Kansai's head, there was a little jolt, as if Edo'd touched an eel or something.

And after that, somehow, Kansai started looking a little less wrong, as if the touch had been enough to soften an inaccuracy in Kansai's form. The fever even started to die down.

As he headed out of the house, Edo decided he'd have to try to figure out what he'd done. So when he went down to the docks, he kept an eye out for anyone who looked like Kansai had. And sure enough, he saw them. One-eyed Davey had a hollow in his face, while Fat Alcredo the butcher had a big band of wrong clutching something on the left side of his chest. His childhood friend, Tania - a quiet girl with an easy smile and the wan look of the regularly ill - had a growth in her chest that Edo didn't like at all. She waved at him and he waved back before heading over towards her.

Edo wasn't sure what to do, but he felt a compulsion to smooth away the wrongness from each the same way he'd done to Kansai. So he went up to Tania with his cheekiest smile, hugged her round the waist where he'd seen the strangeness, and proceeded to make her dance a few steps with him while he sang. At least if nothing amazing happened, he still got to dance with a pretty girl today.

When it was done, he grinned at her. "Thanks Tan! I missed the festival, so I'm glad I've got you!"

Using Divine Healing +2 to sense the miscasts of life in other people and then using the same quality to 'fix' the imperfections that gave a girl cancer. Charming +2 to keep things on the social level.

Edo Waters
+4 Carver
+2 Charming
+2 Sailor
+2 Strong
Foible - Pigheaded
+2 Divine Healing (Lifecarving)
+2 Divine Magic

Cacto fucked around with this message at Feb 23, 2013 around 23:44

Jul 30, 2010

See them other chickenheads? They don't never leave the coop.

Alexios - The Sons' Camp, outside the city of Taelos

Alexios sits at a great mahogany table at the center of his barracks, nursing a flagon of wine to ease his splitting head. Raising his hand to wave off the food, he leans back in his chair, taking a great swig, his eyes on his startled aide-de-campe, a young, promising soldier by the name of Pavo.

"What is the matter with you, Pavo? You look as if you've seen a ghost." He sets the flagon down on the table, standing and making his way over to his armor rack. Made of leather, it is an exquisite affair, its surface studded with a dizzying array of overlapping silvery scales. "Help me with my armor, wouldn't you? We're going to the city. I have business to take care of."

Alexios - Taelos

Flanked by six of his finest men, Alexios entered the city, and set off in the direction of the Merchant's Quarter. It was there, in the that gilded neighborhood, that the decisions of the city were made, and Alexios had business with the city's leaders; he was going to see the Merchant's Council. Taelos was going to war, if the roomers were true, and he intended to get the contract for himself.

Hope you don't mind me taking some creative liberty with the city of Taelos. Basically, I'm going to go see whoever makes up the government here, I'm assuming a city like this is a plutocracy ruled by merchants.



The third son of a minor landowner Eosite landowner, Alexios left his father's house at a young age, joining the Imperial Legion, where, throughout the years, he earned a reputation as a fearsome warrior. Eventually working his way up to the post of Tribune, Alexios fought the Emperor's battles for fifteen long years until, having long ago grown disillusioned with the politics of Eosia and its Legion, he requested discharge, and received it. After a brief and unsuccessful stint as a farmer, Alexios gathered around him a small army of veteran legionnaires, forming the Sons of Fortune, a mercenary company which has earned its notoriety for its loyal and capable service to Taeless in its frequent wars against its neighbors. Rumors abound throughout the Sons that Alexios was somehow changed during Starfall, and most who look upon him must concede that the charismatic leader presence is even more magnetic than usual.

-Mortal Qualities-

Leader of Men +4
Alexios is a veteran of half-a-dozen conflicts, and has led men into battle for most of his life. He's always been a natural leader, able to inspire confidence and heroism in the men who follow him.

Expert Swordsman +4
He's a terror to behold on the battlefield; one does not live through as many wars as Alexios has without learning a thing or two about battle.

Keen Administrator +2
Managing the logistics of warfare is a tedious task; one that Alexios has nonetheless taken to.

-Divine Qualities-

Supernatural Power: Inspirational +2
Alexios has always been a strong leader; since Starfall, this is more true than ever. He projects a palpable aura that inspires and captivates those who surround him.

Vainglorious -2 Alexios' larger-than-life presence has gone to his head; he aspires to the greatest heights, intoxicated by overconfidence.

-Core Values-
Leadership & Warfare.

-Starting Location-
The Sons are currently contracted by Taeless.

Feb 2, 2012

I finally understand everything there is to know about axes!


Much to your surprise, there isn't a trail that looks like the beast had it been dragged. You almost miss the tracks left by the presumed thief though, as they're a third your height. They lead off through the woods towards a nearby hill, although you've never been sure whether it's truly a hill or mountain.

Success, something much larger than a human has trekked to and from your home.

Stavos Burhonhim:

You're not sure exactly what it was that before that caused the change. You repeat the process several times, with increasing frustration until your return to shouting. None of your latter attempts are met with any more success than making the lead somewhat glassy. It seems something is happening, but your understanding of the process is very limited.

Failure, you cannot manage a full transmutation, although there are some effects.


You've never had to fight for your life before, always before your training and fights have been under strict conditions with little chance for death. As such you unfortunately kill two of the three bandits while trying to survive, but the third you manage to disarm and point your blade at your throat.

"I...I yield! Spare me please Ser Knight!" He cries desperately.

Success. You beat the bandits substantially.

Lilian Grandpré:

You can see the wind blow, if you focus a little.

Not much to work with, feel free to narrate more and to do some kind of check.


The second time you try, while you're focussing on the act you feel a surge of power. The glowing letters are alive, with intent and force and there's a rattling as the bread you had on your plate launches itself into the air and lands in your hand.

Success, without specific intent the Sigilry acted on the most appropriate local context.


Any attempt to preserve a sense of normality is destroyed by a young child who spots you and yells out in surprise. "Mommy, Adam became a hairy kid!" After that you soon find yourself surrounded by half the town who are understandably mystified by your change in stature. You can almost bear the indignity until one of the children playfully pulls on your beard, the beard!

Nothing to resolve, continue along.


"Willing to sell out your friend eh? Well tell me more and then I'll make up my mind about this." The man replies after your attempts at persuasion, he seems more pliant although you're not entirely convinced he won't just club you at some point anyway.

Success, he's definitely willing to listen to your proposal although he is still a thug and a nasty person.


The mother of the child is clearly distressed about the many stings on her beloved boy, but she clearly did not believe the child's stories about vicious attack bees. You use some long kept home remedies to ease the child's suffering but like any adolescent, they are vocal about any pain they must endure.

Success, you've taken much of the edge of the stings.

Koth Wolfrider:

You quietly sneak into the merchant's belongings and then focus carefully, seeing if you can quietly duplicate the trick before. You find that not only can you pull out objects held in your hands through the chest, but you can even fiddle around with the lock mechanism. That would make a noise and risk your theft being detected before you're done however, so you patiently relieve the merchant of his meagre wealth.

Success, you can pull his gold through the chest. However you can only apply one mortal trait to a divine action, so keep this in mind. I selected the most appropriate one for this time.


You find that your increased vigor matches a hearty appetite, although nothing particularly unusual for someone who moves around heavy armour and a sword for a living. The inn keeper is put in a good mood by the sudden income of gold and rushes to organise food and drink for you. Once you're eating he's eager to keep your eating, so plying information from him is an easy task.

"I heard fourday again another caravan got waylaid. They said bandits were responsible, but I don't know of any man who cuts out the tongues and eyes of their victims. Some say there's an evil witch behind it."


Civar Kit'an:

You go to your bath, which is a cold and brusque affair at this time of the morning. Contemplating the luxuries of heated water and what could be done to make it easy to obtain at any time your return to the taproom. All of the crowd from the night before have woken up and seemed to have straightened themselves up a bit. More interestingly is the strange way people seem to be careful not to make a mess and to keep things orderly. The barkeep is finding a couple of wineskins he'd been missing for a year.

Success, people react positively to the aura of order in the place until it fades.


Success, however this is something that will take you time. You will need to travel around, ending up in northwest Taeless eventually, which is being raided by bandits from Val Aman. I suggest keeping this in the back of your mind, but continuing on with other things as you head in that direction.


"Tha....nky...ou" A dry whispering voice says, and Cyriss cannot help but wonder if it was, in fact the clock that spoke. The tick and tock of the timekeeping device make it hard to make out any other words though.

Success, keep in mind though at the moment complicated mechanics are uncommon so your ability will have limited scope with complicated machines for the time being.


You are getting pretty close to your intended mark when to your dismay a young girl gives a startled cry and pulls on her mother's dress. "Mommy, why is there a dirty man here?" It is going to be only a minute before the guard are on your heels now, curse your ill luck.

Failure, you're spotted by someone you weren't focussing on to hide from.


It takes you a bit of investigating and searching around to figure out what's happened. At first you assumed that Ilvis had simply gone into town somewhere, she liked to sneak out to a favourite hiding spot and train. Soon it becomes apparent this wasn't the case. When you return home and find out one of the horses is missing, your search becomes more focussed and you check with the gate guards. They report that the tournament champion went for a ride earlier in the morning. It seems Ilvis has flown the coop, so to speak.

Success, you find she left about two and a half hours earlier.


It will take you about a tenday to ride to Harvan if you go directly and don't dally in any villages or towns along the way. You can go there directly if you like, or if you stay somewhere you might find something or someone.


You discover that touching the rat causes it to twitch limbs, not even the same ones; sometimes one of the eyes moved around as well. Eventually as your contact with the rodent increases as you probe it you reach a sort of critical point and feel something drain out of you. Then the rat comes alive and begins squeaking at you angrily, or at least you think it's angrily. What is even more surprising is when the rat begins to trace out letters in the preserving fluid nearby.

"A rat? The best you can find is a RAT?"

Success, you've transferred a soul into the rat, although whose you are not sure of yet.


What the intruders assumed would be an easy mark proves to be incorrect, as Mazir suddenly awakens and rapidly casts an enchantment that entangles their feet in shadowy tendrils. One of the thugs however manages to avoid the binding and charges at you, only to be launched backwards by a bolt of arcane energy. A sickening crack and the limp slump as he hits the ground tells you he is dead. However the strange ethereal miasma that rises from him and hovers there is an entirely new phenomena for Mazir, who had seen death (and once by his hand no less) before.

Success, you see a soul floating before you, although you may not realise what it is yet.


The spider does not really seem to react much aside from moving around its web slightly, however that small whispering voice comes again.

"Both...neither...what is the difference? Perhaps"


The creature seems entirely unimpressed by your antics and blinks again in a sort of bored way.

My name is - and then suddenly your mind is assaulted by eldritch sounds and words, and you are not sure you could ever pronounce its name. But, you do know it now. What goat do you speak of? You are clearly new at this. The eyeball seems to not be taking you entirely seriously.

Success, but you're new to summoning so you'll need to work out the process.


As you walk around a you notice a small wind kick up behind you, from your cloak which seem to billow more than usual.

You can move on to the oasis if you like.

Edo Waters:

Tan jumps a little, which she would likely attribute to just surprise but Edo realises is from his touch. However to his disappointment there's very little change in the wrongness inside of her, it looks a little smaller though and Tan looks a bit better.

"You didn't miss much else than Alekedo starting to tell more and more impossible fishing stories as he drank more and more. The other men loved it, we women did our own thing. How is Kansai doing?" She asks pleasantly.

Failure, cancer is pretty hard to heal and mostly you just made Tan feel a bit better.


"Yes sir." Pavo says with more enthusiasm than usual and attends to his assigned task with notable attentiveness. Maybe Pavo's feeling particularly helpful, but he seems particularly...well he's looking at you a lot and beginning to be a little more like a puppy following its owner than normal. That's better than the men nursing sore heads though.

The merchant quarter housed the real power of the city. There were a few other members of the council but they lacked the influence and more importantly, the wealth of those that lived in this place. They even had their own guild hall, which was nominally not the council chambers but often operated as such.

Creative license is fine, especially when it's appropriate for what's already been established.

Jul 30, 2010

See them other chickenheads? They don't never leave the coop.

Alexios - The Guildhall

In the ornate entryway of the Merchant's Guildhall, Alexios leaves his six guards, beckoning Pavo behind him as he makes his way up to the clerk's desk. When the weedy man looks up from his papers, Alexios notices the way his eyebrows arch. People had been looking at him strangely all morning; either something was going on, or he had too much to drink last night.


(6:41:03 PM) Nenji: The clerk looks up in a disinterested manner.
(6:41:21 PM) Nenji: "Mr. Alexios, do you have an appointment?"
(6:42:26 PM) Alexios: "I'm here to speak with Councilor Voluminares. He should be expecting me."
(6:45:46 PM) Nenji: (This is important, would you have an appointment?)
(6:45:58 PM) Nenji: (Bureaucracy is pretty big here)
(6:46:53 PM) Alexios: (well, I'm coming to discuss a mercenary contract, so y eah I assume so)
(7:00:07 PM) Nenji: "Yes, you do appear to have an appointment. Very well, please follow me."
(7:00:16 PM) Nenji: (Do you have any weapons with you?)
(7:23:38 PM) Alexios: (No, I imagine I would have left them at camp, aside from my guards, who can remain here.)
(7:23:54 PM) Alexios: Alexios nods, setting off to follow behind the man. "Come, Pavo."
(7:26:45 PM) Nenji: "Remember all weapons are to be left outside of the offices"
(7:27:00 PM) Nenji: However as you walk in you note drily this naturally doesn't apply to the guards here.
(7:27:41 PM) Nenji: You are directed into Voluminares office.
(7:27:50 PM) Nenji: He is busy dealing with some paperwork currently,
(7:27:59 PM) Nenji: And does not respond to your arrival immediately.
(7:30:14 PM) Alexios: Alexios takes a seat opposite the councilor, Pavo taking his position behind him.
(7:32:25 PM) Nenji: The councillor still continues with his paperwork.
(7:37:25 PM) Nenji: You find yourself beginning to wait.
(7:37:50 PM) Alexios: Alexios clears his throat, somewhat awkwardly.
(7:38:30 PM) Nenji: The councillor pauses and looks up.
(7:38:43 PM) Nenji: "Ah, Mr Alexios. I did not notice you. Please, have a seat."
(7:38:51 PM) Nenji: This is clearly a lie and you are already seated.
(7:39:08 PM) Nenji: "You had a matter you wished to bring to the council's attention I believe?"
(7:41:40 PM) Alexios: "Indeed. I have heard rumors that Taelos prepares for war."
(7:48:03 PM) Nenji: "That is hardly surprising, we are all constantly moving between one to the next."
(7:48:56 PM) Alexios: "Indeed, indeed. I shall be direct, then: I desire the contract."
(7:59:14 PM) Nenji: "Many people do Mr. Alexios. What is it that makes you believe you are the best person to provide it to?"
(7:59:44 PM) Alexios: "Because I am going to change the way Taelos conducts warface, councilman."
(8:00:09 PM) Alexios: Alexios stands, placing his hand on the back of the chair.
(8:01:15 PM) Alexios: "Because I will destroy your enemies in the field, and when they are slaughtered, we shall take no tribute: we shall take their city."
(8:01:44 PM) Nenji: The councillors eyes widen in alarm at your suggestion.
(8:01:51 PM) Nenji: "Have you gone mad?"
(8:02:09 PM) Alexios: "No, councilor. I haven't."
(8:02:15 PM) Alexios: "I intend to usher in a new age.
(8:02:20 PM) Nenji: "Do you understand the costs with managing one city? Let alone multiple ones?"
(8:03:06 PM) Nenji: "Furthermore, you are proposing the intentional murder of fellow Taellosians!"
(8:03:31 PM) Alexios: "I am proposing glory, gold, and slaves."
(8:03:33 PM) Alexios: He shrugs.
(8:03:36 PM) Alexios: "And I can deliver."

Using Inspirational +2 and Leader of Men +4 to convince this guy that this plan is a good one, and that I am the right man for the job.

A RICH WHITE MAN fucked around with this message at Nov 20, 2012 around 01:05

Mar 3, 2011

Spider-Man's Amazing Construction Company

Andra - Andaria

"Evil witch, eh?" Andra asks, lifting a brow. "Evil witches are interesting. What are the merchants planning to do about it? Have they gotten around to organizing an expedition? Wait, scratch that; I'll go find out for myself. Thank you, my good man." Additional coins are left on the table for the man's assistance; Andra sets out into town to go find some of the merchants whose caravans were attacked.

If she's lucky, they're already talking about hiring adventurers to go hunt down whatever is harming the caravans. If not, well, surely she can convince them that it would be a good idea.

Using Charming as Hell [+4] and Doughty Warrior [+4] to convince the merchants that organizing a retaliatory expedition would be in their best interests - the former should convince them, while the latter should demonstrate that Andra should be a part of it. Hell, maybe even in charge. Let's go kill some evil.

Apr 10, 2010


"The Black Goat of Tullia, which guards the..." Vanthos slumps. "I'm not good at this. My father was a demonologist, and when he died, he left me his material. But I've never successfully done this before. Please don't eat me and destroy civilization, giant eyeball!"

Persuasion +4 to try to get the giant eyeball not to eat me and maybe to make me better at this?

Dec 15, 2007


Kovar - An inn in Taeless

The northwest. Everything pointed that his ideal village would be located there. The problem would of course be getting there. Sadly, the kingdom does not pay criminals about to be exiled for services rendered. He had afforded this inn only thanks to some gold he had sewn into the clothes he was exiled in. From here on it would be hand-to-mouth, which would greatly slow his journey. It would though give him plenty of time and opportunity to refine his list.

Using what little funds he had left he purchased a sturdy traveling cloak and staff, and let out a self-depricating fit of laughter at the thought of the once great general reduced to a poor wanderer. Another indignity to lay at the feet of the traitor-king.

Looking nothing like the leader he had once been Kovar set out, aiming for the next settlement on his northeasternly route, hoping he might be able to find a way to pay for lodging along the way.

Heading towards the northwest. Kovar is prepared to have adventures along the way in order to try and pay for this whole endeavor.

Valhawk fucked around with this message at Nov 19, 2012 around 03:44

Puppies are dicks
Jan 31, 2011


Ilvis - Halfway out of Harvan and in sight of the border

"You... yield?"

Wait, bugger whats the bit that comes next? Do I have to make him kneel and swear an oath here? that guy's head just came off who knew swords really were so sharp No, that's not right. He's a commoner and a bandit besides so they don't get to swear oaths the squelch! Dad never said anything about the squelchy noise Bollocks he's looking up at me right now better say something quick before he catches on that I've no idea what comes next-

"Very well, I accept your surrender."

Sheathing the Sword, I stare down at the man as he cowers in the dirt.

"I'll grant you your life for now, but in exchange I expect you to abide by the terms of your parole. Which are to obey my lawful commands until I can deposit you in the nearest gaol. Now dig. We're going to bury your two friends and Chestn- my horse."

I gulp, trying to keep my voice steady, deep, and appropriately manly as I point to a patch of soft dirt nearby with a mailed glove.

"Make no mistake, I'll cut you down at the first sign that you play me false. But dig and I'll help. Better a shallow grave than leaving them out for the crows. The other two... what were their names? Have you been bandits long?"

We're going to dig some graves. Well, he's going to dig a grave and I'm going to help. How hard can it be anyway? Lacking shovels and uh, gravedigging tolls it's going to have to be shallow graves all around but while we're at it he might as well tell me about the other two dudes and why they got into banditry in the first place. Are there any other bandits around? Have they got a bandit lair or loot stashed someplace? Also at some point in the talking and digging I'll round up those horses and tie them down someplace to make sure they don't wander off.

+4 Martial Training- Digging holes and shovelling poo poo. Dad's talked about how important it is to dig entrenchments and shovel your own poo poo before in a pinch and I've seen which end of a shovel goes into the ground before. Haven't got any shovels here, but uh well we can make do with some pointed sticks and this guy's hands right?

Action: Dig some shallow graves for Chestnut and the unnamed bandits, while also interrogating the surviving bandit about their operation(if any).
Priorities: Dig holes, extract useful intelligence from captive.
Doctrine: Try not to cry and look like a girl who just accidentally killed two men in a swordfight. Also see that the dead receive something resembling a proper burial.

Puppies are dicks fucked around with this message at Nov 19, 2012 around 05:05

Wapole Languray
Jul 4, 2012

Geldoph the Leper, an Alley in Val Setin

Geldoph quickly jumps to his feet at the mans screaming. Still drowsy from his rude awakening, he instinctively reaches out towards the broken leg in an attempt to heal it.

Flesh Control +2 to heal the leg, and Academic +4 to do it properly instead of accidentally maiming him.


Geldoph the Leper

Birthplace: Geldoph hails from the city of Val Setin, found in the country of Val Aman.

Backstory: Once Geldoph was a respected scholar, having learned at the prestigious Valstein Academy, the only place of learning for many leagues of Val Setin. While not poor, his life was utterly spartan. His only interest was books and knowledge, particularly of the medicinal arts. He sought to find better ways to heal the sick and wounded than hedge magic and leeches. Unfortunately in his quest for knowledge he became one of those he so wanted to help when he contracted Leprosy. As a leper he was cast out of the University, all associates turned their back on him, and he was forced into the streets to make a living as a beggar.



Academic +4- A lifelong student, Geldoph has a much wider knowledge base than most of the world.

Hard Life +2- His spartan way of life combined with the hardships of his current situation have toughened Geldoph to life's many challenges.

Compassion+2- As kind hearted and sympathetic as can be, Geldoph seeks only to help the poor and unfortunate in any way he can.

Streetwise+2- Living as a leprous beggar on the streets of one of the largest cities in the world meant that Geldoph had to learn the ways of city quickly.

Leper -2: Cursed with a body rotting around him Geldoph is an outcast in polite society. Most act with open disgust and fear at the mere sight of him. In addition any physical task brings wracking pain and weakness, leaving him incapable of even manual labor.

Divine: Flesh Control (Magic)+2 - Geldoph can use his magic to affect the bodies of living things in multiple ways. He can relieve or cause pain, seal and open wounds, break and mend bones. But his power can only create minor effects. He can cure a fever, but not the Plague. He can set a bone, not regrow a limb.

Personality/Core Values: A thirst for knowledge and a desire to use that knowledge to help others. Near total disregard for himself in the face of others pain. Sees his condition as punishment for squandering his gifts. Is often depressed and introverted.

Wapole Languray fucked around with this message at Nov 19, 2012 around 03:43

Jun 13, 2003

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

Degowin - That Hill by His House

His people had long had stories of Giants. Trolls. Ogres. Large men of the woods. Also perhaps rumors of some “god”. Whatever left these tracks, DeGowin meant to see it with his own eyes. He waited until the wind changed to the the right direction and crept to the hill, trying to get a view of this large-footed creature. His own frost-covered form offered a bit of camouflage with the icy surroundings. DeGowin froze when he finally caught sight of it, waiting to see if he had been sighted as well...

Using Stealthy +2 and Expert Hunter+4 for a total of +6 to stalk this giant quietly back to its beanstalk...or cave or encampment or whatever.

JamezBfod fucked around with this message at Nov 19, 2012 around 04:21

Nov 5, 2009

Lilian Grandpré of Taelos

Lilian would lean against the window seal as she focused on watching the wind dance around freely. A smile started to form across her face as she spun around and raced towards her wardrobe and pulled it's doors open, she quickly dressed herself and tossed her ivory night gown into her wardrobe before shutting it.

She then walked over to a desk that had a weapon rack on it, it contained only one weapon, a slightly curved longsword it was sheathed in a white scabbard that had several various gem stones adorn across it, the colors were red, blue and green. A symbol of her family crest she was told.

Grasping at the scabbard and lifting it off the stand, she would run the fingertips of her right hand across the leather scabbard and towards the hilt which she would grasp tightly as she unsheathed the blade.

Closing her eyes she thought back to what she the sword had been named when she had requested it to be forged for her. "Wisp". The sword only had one side sharpened, this was to compensate for her low strength and endurance. Not being able to wield a double bladed sword very effectively.

Sheathing her sword she would attach the scabbard to her waist and head towards the window, she could see the wind and it was time to practice to what effect. Climbing onto the window seal she'd look around for something near by to leap too, it had to be close due to her physical limitations.

Having spot a possible jumping path she took several steps back and focused on the currents of the wind, she'd then take off into a sprint and ran with the wind to boost her running speed and jump distance.

Windflow +2, gonna use this to parkour across the rooftops.
-Low endurance and strength -2. Anything that involves her having to climb or using physical strength

Ryoutarou fucked around with this message at Nov 24, 2012 around 01:44

Jan 29, 2009

Edo Waters, Blackwater

Edo can't help but notice the tiniest bit of colour return to Tania's face, but he can also tell his touch didn't go very far in healing her. Still, a start's a start. So yes to nettlefish, no to the wasting sickness, he thought to himself.

He looks at her blankly for a second after she finishes speaking before responding with a start. "Sorry, blanked out for a little bit. Kansai seems a lot better, the little rascal. Should be up and running around again in no time."

He laughs at her description of the festival. "I know you don't like him, but not all of Alekedo's stories are crazy. There's more things in the sea than women know about." He smiles when she takes the bait and quickly talks over her before she can start ranting. "Just joking, Tan. Good to see you're feeling well enough to argue though!"

With that he runs off towards the bay, yelling goodbye over his shoulder in response to her shouts and narrowly avoiding knocking down Granny Mabel. "Back to work I guess," he mutters to himself as he nears the boat he runs with his uncle.

The rest of the day he spends fishing at his uncle Dameon's favourite spot for sardines. It's tough, exhausting work as they throw out the nets, put out some lines for bigger game and start the salting process in the hull.

Injuries are common, and Edo decides to test out his new powers as he goes, such as when his uncle gets a hook to the leg and demands Edo help him bandage it. "Sure uncle," he says, putting his hands over it and trying once more to carve away the wound.

It's a calculated risk; magic is frowned on in Blackwater, but Edo couldn't imagine his own family turning on him. Not if it works, and Edo will be able to cover it over with the bandage anyway.

Going out in the boat, +2 Sailor is relevant I guess. Then using Divine Healing +2 to try to heal his uncle's minor wound.

Jan 3, 2012

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

Fylas the Doctor - Eisos (Laboratory)

Fylas began to work on the rat, delicately examining and manipulating its slowly stiffening corpse. His observation of the rat twitching upon his contact continued to be seen, with the effect not limited to a single leg. All its limbs, tail included, began moving under his touch. The longer his hand was on the rat, the more it came to life. Even its eyes were open now, frantically straining in their sockets. It was all Fylas could do to keep his hand on the rat, as its body convulsed and shook on the table. It felt as if something was forcing itself from Fylas into the rat. Finally, the body relaxed and he took his hand away. To his amazement, the rat slowly stood and immediately began screaming and trying to get away.

After realizing its attempts were futile, the rat began to look around the area. Fylas watched with amazement and amusement as the little vermin scuttled over to a small pool of preserving fluid on the table. He began to pull the rat back from the liquid, but then he noticed something shocking. The rat was writing out tiny letters on the table. “This cannot be!,” Fylas exclaimed as he stumbled back over a stool. Picking himself up off the floor, he moved to the table just as the rat finished its writing. He gasped as he read,

"A rat? The best you can find is a RAT?"

How can this be he thought. For this rat to have intelligence enough to write, what could explain this? “I need time to study this”, he thought to himself. The answer will surely be in my master’s records. The dark arts he hinted at over the years must have some truth to them. He headed to the bookshelf across the lab, but not before securing the rat within a metal storage box with breathing holes on the top (where he kept his specimens in individual compartments). After hours of searching through his master’s tomes, Fylas had a very rudimentary outline of information. He read that certain individuals can be sensitive to the energy that souls create, in essence being able to feel them around oneself as their energy fields react with yours. He also read that it could be possible for a person to even channel those souls. Being able to pull them from their realm and store them in a vessel, inanimate or living. Fylas realized that his master had only scratched the service of this power. And it would take a lot more than his current library to truly learn of this art.

Fylas noticed it was nearing the end of the day, but before he went to sleep he had an idea. He secured the rat's leg to the table and then placed a pot of ink and paper next to him. Though the rat seemed not interested, he would come see in the morning if anything more had been written.

Lab Rat [+4] - Studying his master's lab notes and using his familiarity with his teachings to put together a rudimentary idea of necromancy.

Activities: Fylas secures the rat in one of his containment compartments, then studies his master’s lab notes and books until he has a basic outline of necromancy, and then leaves paper and ink for the rat so he can maybe write some more.

The next morning, Fylas got up a little earlier than usual. He planned to go to the library at the Royal University, and see if he could find any tomes on necromancy. He was owed a favor by one of the staff, having cured her daughter of an infectious disease the year before.

Clandestine [+2] - Fylas was not sure he wanted people to know he was researching the necromantic arts, so he is using a contact he knows to get the books rather than publicly researching the matter.

Necromancy [+2] - To identify the right books to get from the library, one needs knowledge to distinguish between the fakes and the real stuff.

Activities: Fylas uses a contact at the library to obtain books on necromancy, to research once they are back at his lab.

goodness fucked around with this message at Nov 19, 2012 around 08:52


Nov 9, 2011

My first attack must ALWAYS be a charge!

Adam - in the town courtyard


Any attempt to preserve a sense of normality is destroyed by a young child who spots you and yells out in surprise. "Mommy, Adam became a hairy kid!" After that you soon find yourself surrounded by half the town who are understandably mystified by your change in stature. You can almost bear the indignity until one of the children playfully pulls on your beard, the beard!

Nothing to resolve, continue along.

"GET OFF ME" he cried, engaged in a desperate tug of war with the child - "wait... Alice? Get off me right now or I'll tell your mother about how you broke that necklace she gave you for Broodday!"

He addressed at the crowd, struggling to keep a calm demeanour, whilst wrestling his red hair away from the still giggling little girl.

"Beggin ya pardon lads..."

He paused, then coughed loudly, before continuing

"I mean... I know you are all a little surprised, but this is not the time or the place to be standing in shock. I am sure there will be a perfectly normal explanation for this, but for now, I would very much like to get to work, as would you. So please let's discuss this later... tonight.. or tomorrow... or never..."

With that, he attempts to slowly back away towards the mines.

(Action: Attempt to disperse the crowd and head to work. Damnit nothing is going to stop me from my daily duties!

+2 Calm and composed: Other than his voice suddenly changing, he believes he handed that quite well.

-2 Don't want no trouble: Please please please please please please go away...

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