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frajaq
Jan 30, 2009

#acolyte GM of 2014




Sharn known by many names: City of Knives, City of Lost Souls, City of a Thousand Eyes, Gateway to Xen'drik and Gateway to Perdition. But it is best know as the City of Towers, since its position at the mouth of the Dagger River has allowed it to expand in only one direction: up.

Although part of the nation of Breland, Sharn is a society in its own right. People and cultures of nearly every imaginable sort are brought together there. They talk, they do business, they travel together, they pass one another on the street, and the result is a true melting pot, perhaps the only one in all the Five Nations.

It is a hotbed of activity, a nexus of every service imaginable. There's a popular saying in Sham: "if it can be bought, it can be bought there". Shops and trading stalls abound, gathered in trade districts, open-air markets or merchant halls. And to preserve law and order in this chaos, the Sharn Watch enforces the Galifar Code of Justice throughout the city.



But there's a dark side to this city that you know all too well. From the Skyway to The Cogs, the lower you go the worse the conditions, where the poorer citizens live. The Sharn Watch (corrupt to an almost institutional level), rarely goes there.

The criminal elements thrive in Sharn, using the location as a useful and effective hub for illegal trade, black market of exotic items, nefarious assassination services, fugitive hiding and all other sorts of dangerous and deadly activities.

In The Lower City its the organized crime groups who control that part of the city: The Boromar Clan, Daask, House Tarkanan and the Tyrants. Everyone in the lower areas knows who they are, and if they don't they tend to learn pretty drat fast, for some reason or another.

For the most undesirable elements of the city, and infamous newcomers too, it's the perfect place for business opportunities or a fresh start, as long as you don't mind getting your hands dirty.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

System: Dungeons and Dragons 4th Edition
Staring Level: Four
Ability Scores: Standard point buy, 22 points
Starting Gear: Basic non-magical equipment. Plus three Level 3 (or lower if you desire) items, 250g starting gold.
Bonus Feats: 1 Free Expertise + 1 Free Melee Training (if you need it) + Improved Defenses + 1 Bonus Feat of your choice
Backgrounds/Themes: Yes/Yes
Dragonmarks: Yes, race limited to the Houses. Unless it's an Aberrant mark
Inherent Bonuses: Yes
Character Limitations: - No lawful good/good alignment/stuff that requires you to be goody two shoes
- Besides character name, you also need an alias of some sort
Deadline for chargen: April 20 - Monday, 21:00 EST

Players: 5-6

Welcome to my first DnD 4E game ever!

While it won't be a FULL SUPER EVIL DARKNESS DEATH game, the players will do some nasty things while getting involved with the underground side of Sharn.

Regardless if your character is mercenary neutral/unaligned or actual Bad Person evil, your entry into the story was that you were kinda down on your luck, maybe something unfortunate and out of your control happened to you and forced you into the current situation, or you were forced to lay low in Sharn after a gently caress-up in a crime in distant lands. In any case your character caught wind of a "security detail" job offer by an agent of House Tarkanan, while the offer didn't tell any actual details, the pay is good and you definitely need it right now...

I'm almost always in the #acolyte IRC channel, in synirc.net, if you have any questions and wants to speak directly to me. I have PMs too!

pre:
Player            Character Class      Role                 Race                 App Status
CapitalistPig     Warlord              Leader               Minotaur             Complete
Winged Orpheus    Artificer            Leader               Warforged            Complete
Rtwo              Cleric               Leader               Halfling             Complete
 
John Dyne         Paladin              Defender             Human                Complete
Gharbad the Weak  Paladin              Defender             Tiefling             Complete
Wahad             Fighter              Defender             Longtooth Shifter    Complete
Olanphonia        Warden               Defender             Goliath              Complete
berenzen          Swordmage            Defender             Tiefling             Complete

Flame112          Wizard               Controller           Human                Complete
Necroskowitz      Mage                 Controller           Eladrin              Complete
Wol               Psion                Controller           Changeling           Complete
Doomykins         Druid                Controller           Dwarf                Complete

FireSight         Monk                 Striker              Warforged            Complete
Moriatti          Warlock              Striker              Revenant(Bullywug)   Complete
Mustache Ride     Rogue                Striker              Goblin               Complete
Ryuujin           Elementalist         Striker              Tiefling             Complete
AXE COP           Executioner          Striker              Human                Complete
Maxwell Lord      Rogue                Striker              Half-Elf             Complete
ArkInBlack        Barbarian            Striker              Tiefling             Complete

Shark Mafia       Rogue/Invoker        Striker/Controller   Human                Complete
ProfessorCurly    Barbarian/Cleric     Striker/Leader       Bugbear              Complete
BetterWeirdthan   Artificer|Warlord    Leader/Leader        Shardmind            no picture
 

frajaq fucked around with this message at May 30, 2015 around 23:05

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chin up everything sucks
Jan 29, 2012



Making a monk with the yakuza theme. He shall be a thug of the Sharn Yakuza, also known as the Sharkuza.

No, he won't be a sharkman or wereshark. What a silly idea.

Captain Walker
Apr 7, 2009

Mother knows best
Listen to your mother
It's a scary world out there


Why the hell not.

Megazver
Jan 13, 2006


FireSight posted:

Making a monk with the yakuza theme. He shall be a thug of the Sharn Yakuza, also known as the Sharkuza.

No, he won't be a sharkman or wereshark. What a silly idea.

CapitalistPig
Nov 3, 2005

You turn the corner and see a greenskinned fuckmidget.
Roll for initiative.

Hey! I'd love to play this.

I'll work on a character today throughout the day and put my submission here later!

I'm thinking a Minotaur Warlord with ties to Daask if that's cool.


ok here goes hope this is right.

http://orokos.com/dnd4e/sheets/7595

Hargoth AKA Ironguts



Hargoth was born deep in the caves below Sharn and was raised with wild Minotaurs, when he was still very very young a crazed necromancer killed his family and locked him into his own personal menagerie or zoo of some kind.
When he had grown in strength the necromancer started to pit him against other creatures in contests and fights to the death.
One day Hargoth took an opportunity that arose to escape the Mad Wizard's underground lair and he wandered the tunnels for a long time before emerging in the lower part of Sharn where he was quickly taken in by Daask and learned about civilization and the best ways to make money for his new family.
Hargoth quickly rose through the ranks becoming known as "Ironguts" due to his ability to drink or eat nearly anything without it bothering him.
A few years after joining with Daask , Hargoth was sent on a mission with a Hobgoblin called Shagger, they were to take down a shipment of goods bound for one of the houses. But Shagger , secretly working with The Boromars, betrayed him and stole the shipment for the Boromars.

By the time Hargoth made it back to Sharn , Shagger had accused him of being the spy for The Boromars and Hargoth was cast out, he has been hiding out in the Lower Dura Slums ever since , that is until he heard about a job opportunity...

CapitalistPig fucked around with this message at Apr 16, 2015 around 18:28

Gharbad the Weak
Feb 23, 2008

This too good for you.


How long is this game set to go? Is it a low-level adventure, or play until we get tired?

chin up everything sucks
Jan 29, 2012





Cart, the Warforged Monk and Yakuza Enforcer

In any place people live, there are criminals. Often, they know eachother, if only by sight and reputation. Most of the time, they work alone, and have little direct influence over where they live. Sometimes, they gather into gangs, and their influence can control a town or part of a city.

And then you have the Yakuza, whose plans for control involve more than just ruling a small area. They are the criminals who want to control everything, who aim to rule a city, a nation, either from the shadows or the open. Might, money, influence. Any form of control is acceptable to them, and those who stand at the top hold as much power in their hands as the heads of any of the Houses, if not as obviously.

Of course, one and all, these masters of the shadows are followers of the Six, and every step they take to expand their own power is a form of worship, not that their underlings know this. An open cult would be hunted down, but an organization that sometimes provides services to the Houses? Too useful to destroy. Not to mention difficult.

The Yakuza's tendrils exist in a great many cities, including Sharn, and it ever expands by seeking recruits from the criminal underclass. Ones willing to obey orders, honorable enough to not turn in their superiors if caught, yet willing to rough up anyone not protected by the organization.

And Warforged, freed from their service to House Cannith, yet knowing little other than orders and war, seemed a perfect fit for the organizations lowest ranks.


Cart had another name once, when he was granted freedom. But the moment he was put to work pulling carts, it was as if everyone had forgotten it. He was "the warforged pulling the cart," and then just "Cart". It didn't bother him. He was working, unlike so many of his other brethren. Jobs were scarce, as people didn't like the living constructs. Manual labor was all many of his kin were good for. It was all he was good for. But since warforged didn't need to eat, only the cheapest of merchants were willing to use the 'soulless' constructs as workers, and they often lost business because of it. Many of them were attacked by prejudice mobs, their property destroyed.

Carts cart was destroyed. He fought back against the mob, hurting a dozen people before the wrecked cart thrown on top of him. It was only luck that the city guard were able to disperse the mob before more damage was done to him. But without a cart, he had nothing to occupy his time. So he took to wandering the streets, letting his mind idle as his feet moved.

It was on the streets, after days of wandering through the slums of Sharn, that the Sharkuza, Sharns branch of the Yakuza, first approached him to offer him a job. Work with them and he would never be bored, he would always have something to do. Somebody to visit, people to fight, places to be. The organization would keep him from being idle. Especially with all of the turf wars going on between the Sharkuza, newcomers to Sharn, and the established criminal organizations in the Lower City.

He accepted. After all, working as an Enforcer would mean he could do what he was created to do. Fight and obey orders.

chin up everything sucks fucked around with this message at Apr 20, 2015 around 03:07

Moriatti
Apr 21, 2014




Miguel Mudreader, Undead Bullywug Warlock

They couldn't let him die...
Miguel had a promising career path in his tribe. He was a shaman, he knew all of the magical and religious text, and had several totem statues to... Gods, he was sure they were gods. His tribe was the biggest and strongest as far as they could tell, having thrown back other bullywugs, goblins, kobolds and gnolls even! So when the Tribe's chief asked Miguel to come along and aide the warparty on their heist in Sharn.
Everything was planned out, and Miguel even enlisted special aide from... Definitely a god. Yeah, definitely, seemed pretty powerful. So they were off, Miguel, the Chief, two big bruisers by the names of Muglock and Bulgin, and a spear-chucker named Salinda. Not sure why I told you their names, however, because they were bullywugs attacking a city. You know what happened to them. They died, all of them, horribly.
Miguel died too. Or he would have, see, that "god" Miguel had made a deal with had plans for Miguel, knew he was going to fail, and would not let him die. So now Miguel is forced to wander aimlessly, waiting for word from his "god" who, as it turns out, is not a god. This entity that definitely didn't forget about Miguel, but... Hasn't given him any direction. So Miguel follows his new master while he waits.

Oh, did I not mention that? See, when a Bullywug dies, it is said that they are indentured to the creature that kills them. The idea being that after a Bullywug's life was lived, he'd have servants in the after life. Since a party of bashers killed Miguel and his band, Miguel is now forced to serve them, and help out on their stupid quest. There is, however, a catch. See, if a creature dies of unnatural causes, it's servants are forfeit. This of course, doesn't allow for direct interference, since Miguel is property of his masters, if he kills them, it's suicide for them, and suicide is ruled as a natural cause for Bullywugs. So he is forced to help out his "masters", secretly hoping they get eaten by every nasty beast they slay, or somehow get struck down by an arrow.

[I figure the "masters" in question are probably the PCs, though any NPC that could fit the bill is welcome. If the party, it'd be great if Miguel didn't know exactly which one killed him.]

Moriatti fucked around with this message at Apr 16, 2015 around 17:33

Gharbad the Weak
Feb 23, 2008

This too good for you.


Also, is there a place I can read more about the individuals of the Dark Six? The campaign book gives like a sentence.

John Dyne
Jul 3, 2005

Allergic to Seinfeld.

Gharbad the Weak posted:

Also, is there a place I can read more about the individuals of the Dark Six? The campaign book gives like a sentence.

Player's guide, it looks like; the online creator at DND insider has a lot of info on them.

LightWarden
Mar 18, 2007


Gonna make a changeling, probably a mage or bard since there's heavy competition for the striker slot.

If you get a multiclass skill that gives a skill you already have automatically trained (in my case, arcana) can you take a different skill instead?

Gharbad the Weak
Feb 23, 2008

This too good for you.


John Dyne posted:

Player's guide, it looks like; the online creator at DND insider has a lot of info on them.

The player's guide has about a sentence each on the Dark Six (other than the Traveler), and I don't have the online creator, unfortunately. Is there another place?

John Dyne
Jul 3, 2005

Allergic to Seinfeld.

Gharbad the Weak posted:

The player's guide has about a sentence each on the Dark Six (other than the Traveler), and I don't have the online creator, unfortunately. Is there another place?

http://eberron.wikia.com/wiki/The_Dark_Six is about all I can find. It's Gruumsh and a few other gods, apparently.

LightWarden
Mar 18, 2007


Faiths of Eberron would be the go-to source for that sort of thing.

John Dyne
Jul 3, 2005

Allergic to Seinfeld.


Erik

For Erik, the idea that the concepts of morality and justice were set in stone was ridiculous. Where was the justice in a child starving in the streets, simply for being born at the wrong time to the wrong family? Why was it evil to take from those who had more than they need to give it to those who had nothing, when there was no evil in gorging oneself while dozens starved in the street just outside your door? How was there justice when all lives were not equal, when the concerns of a few outweighed the outcry of many? As a simple soldier, he had too little power and too little funding to help those who suffered, and the gods seemed to turn deaf at the cries of those who could not help himself.

Erik could no longer stand it. He quit his job working for one of the bigger houses, and turned his martial skills to crime, to try to become something of a robber baron, all to help the poor and the hungry. But even then, he didn't have the strength and the conviction to push on. But he found that certain gods, the ones outsed from the pantheons that lorded above humanity and reality, they were willing to give power to those who would be their champion.

And so, in an abandoned temple in the bowels of Sharn, Erik pledged his life, his soul, and his sword to the Dark Six, and with it, he gained strength. He gained resilience. He gained power. He grew to interpret their whims in a manner that suited his agenda; the destruction of a bank would lead to gold lining the pockets of the beggars on the street rather than the rich of the city. For every evil deed he performed, he tried with all of his heart to make good come of it.

But even he does not know what the Six will truly ask of him, or what the result will be. He only hopes he can turn the city on its ear, to make great the lowest and make low the greatest, even if it kills him in the process.


John Dyne fucked around with this message at Apr 21, 2015 around 16:16

Wol
Dec 15, 2012

See you in the
UNDERDARK


never mind figured out something cooler, post on page 2

Wol fucked around with this message at Apr 18, 2015 around 21:56

Shark Mafia
Oct 13, 2009



boop

Shark Mafia fucked around with this message at Apr 17, 2015 around 03:33

frajaq
Jan 30, 2009

#acolyte GM of 2014


Someone on IRC asked me about the equipment and I think I should do a clarification.

"Starting Gear: Standard items. Plus two Level 3 (or lower if you desire) items, 250g starting gold."

Apparently I did a newbie GM mistake, by standard items I meant normal non-magical equipment. The basic stuff like a common greatsword or scale armor.

I'll edit the OP to correct this mistake, to make up for it, characters receive three Level 3 magical items instead of two.

My apologies!

Gharbad the Weak posted:

How long is this game set to go? Is it a low-level adventure, or play until we get tired?

This definitely won't be a one-shot low-level adventure, I won't make any promises but I would like to get to Paragon level at least! (this may be me being naive and underestimating how long it would actually take to reach this)


LightWarden posted:

If you get a multiclass skill that gives a skill you already have automatically trained (in my case, arcana) can you take a different skill instead?

Someone else on IRC had this same situation and after talking I decided on No

frajaq
Jan 30, 2009

#acolyte GM of 2014


Gharbad the Weak posted:

Also, is there a place I can read more about the individuals of the Dark Six? The campaign book gives like a sentence.

http://eberronunlimited.wikidot.com/the-dark-six

I found this!

Wol
Dec 15, 2012

See you in the
UNDERDARK


Shark Mafia posted:

Emeth Tir (Rogue/Invoker), a thief who stole an artifact of great divine power from the temple of an evil god. This Has Consequences. E; updated for rules clarification

More flavor later, damned if I can find a good picture to represent a rogue with a magic staff though

I can show you the world
Shining, shimmering, splendid

Mustache Ride
Sep 11, 2001



Pillbug


Snukz BigFilth - Goblin Rogue

A goblin is usually a simple creature, not found in the large cities of other races, but instead found in caves with other goblins in a warren. Snukz is different. Snukz was kicked out of his cave, not far from Sharn, and he had to leave. Leave because Snukz stole something he shouldn't have from the head goblin.

That night, after trying all afternoon to badger the head goblin to let him back into the BigFilth warren, he gave up and searched for a new cave. Instead he found what he thought was a box, even if it did smell of horses, make a lot of noise preventing sleep, and sway like what Snukz imagined a boat swayed like. When he awoke the next morning his cave-box was in Sharn, being opened by a hoooman trader. Snukz immediately tried to hug his new friend before being thrown across the yard.

Snukz new life in Sharn has been going fine, so far. He hasn't found many friends yet, something about his constant hugs and eventual thievery of everything others own keeps him separated from others. But Snukz isn't afraid to try, he picks up nearly everything everyone around him everyone drops, and some things they don't drop, to try to impress them. Usually they don't like his filching of their gold, but Snukz won't give it back unless they give him a hug. Snukz has priorities to keep. And if they really really try to get their filched gold back, Snukz can sneakz a dagger into their side instead of a hug. Doesn't make any difference to Snukz.

Mustache Ride fucked around with this message at Apr 20, 2015 around 15:22

Ryuujin
Sep 26, 2007
Dragon God


Leucis "Reverence" Lightbringer tiefling fire elementalist

Leucis Lightbringer, aka Reverence, aka Hot Stuff, aka Red, aka Crimson Emperor. A tiefling, born with horns and crimson skin, with fire in his blood and a gift for magic. Well fire magic. Tiefling happen. There are a number of reasons a tiefling may be born. A cursed family lineage, an ancestor with more hubris than sense, a parent walking through a tainted land at the wrong time, or even a demonic dalliance. But it can be hard to tell what cause any given tiefling was born from, well unless their parents too were tiefling. Each tiefling is different. Many have a variety of different features that separate them from others. Some will turn to chaos and destruction, to killing all they come across or random acts of violence. Others will fight against such urges, trying to make the world a better place. Leucis is somewhere in between, then again most tiefling are somewhere in between.

Leucis was raised to power. He craved power. Power was his birthright, it was only right for him to have it. And so he went out into the world, making use of his power to gain more power. He killed. He burned. But he wasn't random. He didn't kill everything he came across, rather only those who tried to get in his way or angered him. He sowed terror and reaped fear. And he made a name for himself. Yet it was not his name he made for himself. He was smart enough to realize that a false name may be useful, in case things went poorly for some reason. And so he raised havock and gained power under the name the Crimson Emperor. And it was good he used a false name, for eventually he burned the wrong building, killed the wrong person, and found a price on his head that dwarfed all the ones before. And he found himself hunted, far more systematically, and far more competently than ever before. And so he found that he needed to abandon that life, at least until such time as he gained enough power to burn all his enemies to cinders.

He fled. He shed his name, his title, and his current attire. He went through a few names, a few outfits, and a few mannerisms as he crossed half a continent. Now he finds himself in Sharn, going by the name of Reverence. A name as far from Crimson Emperor as he was likely to get. And he finds himself without a support system, without much gold to his name. And he finds he needs to start at the bottom again, or near enough. So he seeks out a job, questionable or not, where he can perhaps put his abilities to use as he bides his time and regains his power base. And hones his innate powers.

AXE COP
Apr 16, 2010

i always feel like

somebody's watching me




Leutgard Brüsst, Cyran Refugee, Back Alley Executioner

"Cyre stood for something, once. It was about hope and a bright future, even in the middle of the war. Then came the Mourning. It took my country. It took my people. It even took my eyes. But none of it compares to losing my hope on the day those bastards glassed Cyre. All I can do now is sell my sword and wait for the inevitable end. There is no 'Tomorrow in Cyre' any more..."

Real backstory to come!

Flame112
Apr 21, 2011



Brant "Fireball" Braxjammer, Human Wizard

Brant never meant to get involved with any of this. When he discovered his magical talents, his parents were so proud. They had always told Brant had always known he was better than all the other kids, and this proved it. His parents saved up and managed to secure him an apprenticeship at Morgrave University in Sharn, far from his home nation of Aundair.

Despite his magical talents, Brant proved to be a terrible student. He was arrogant, believing himself to be superior to the other apprentices despite all evidence to the contrary. He was lazy, never bothering to finish the readings that were assigned. Worst of all, he had no common sense whatsoever. It wasn't long before Brant found himself bored with life in the university and went wandering the lower, seedier areas of Sharn.

Brant eventually found a gambling den, and decided that, with his superior intellect and magical abilities, he would easily be able to make vast sums of money off of these simple peons. Unfortunately for the young wizard, the only thing more remarkable than how fast he lost all his money was how drunk he was got while doing it. Convinced that he was due for a lucky break any time now, Brant borrowed money from some shady-looking people who seemed all too happy to watch the wizard spiral further and further into debt.

Eventually the alcohol caught up with Brant and he passed out, somehow waking up in his bunk at the University, miraculously unharmed except for a colossal hangover. Brant was beginning to convince himself that his adventure in the criminal underworld was just a dream when he found the note in his pocket. A name, a date, a place. Brant dimly recalled the loan shark holding the knife to his throat as Brant sobbed and begged. He vaguely remembered offering his services as "the greatest wizard in all Khorvaire" to pay off his debts. Gods, what the hell had he gotten himself into.

Flame112 fucked around with this message at Apr 18, 2015 around 08:27

Shark Mafia
Oct 13, 2009



hey, thanks for the artlink! Just resubmitting this guy in a block because of quite a few changes.



Emeth 'Tir' Tirniel, Thief and/or Chosen Master of the Godfocus (Rogue/Invoker)

quote:

You know that old story about the mortal who stole fire from the gods? Doomed to eternal suffering for his insolence? Yeah, that was me.

Okay, not really. But I can sympathize.

The name's Emeth Tirniel, 'Tir' to most. I'm a thief by trade, a good one, born and raised in the great nation of Karnnath. I'm not a common cutpurse; I specialize in the theft of rare and valuable artifacts and works of art. Take my word for it, if you know the right people, that business fills your coffers faster than just about anything.

You get cocky, though, and there can be complications. Case in point: myself.

About a year back I set my sights on a temple of the Dark Six in Korth. Kept there was an artifact, a staff, said to be a divine relic of great power. Pilgrims came from far and wide to see it; apparently it was the object of some prophecy. At the time, I didn't pay much attention. I just figured it'd fetch a pretty penny.

The robbery went off without a hitch. Late one night, I picked the lock on their temple's hidden door, hit the attendant over the head with a sap, and snatched the staff, bowling over a fat little priest on the way out. I heard him screeching curses and oaths of vengeance as I beat feet for the door, but what were they going to do? Nobody had seen my face, and the artifact would only be in my possession for a few days, until I could get it to my usual fence.

That... didn't work out. Turned out there's a reason people generally don't steal from the evil gods: it's because their followers are resourceful, ruthless bastards. It also turned out that the staff had been seeking a new wielder- that was the gist of the prophecy- and I was it. The drat thing was bonded to me. I could put it down, leave it behind, but sooner or later I'd find it in my hand again, or leaning against a wall ahead of me, or lying at the foot of my bed.

The religious nuts figured this out after the first few times they managed to get the staff away from me only to have it vanish out of their hands. So that's when things got really dangerous. They'd already been trying to kill me just for daring to slight their gods, but now they absolutely needed me dead to get their relic back. They started trying pretty hard, and they never stopped. Constant mortal danger wears on a man after a while.

So I left Korth, left Karnnath entirely, and came to Sharn to lie low. No better place to do it, after all. And hey, turns out this staff- a bookish type I met on the road called it a 'Godfocus'- lets me use some pretty strong divine magic! Thunder and lightning and such. Neat trick, right? Good for distracting people while you stab them. Much as I'd like to be able to go home, I have to admit that as long as I have this, things are looking up.

Shark Mafia fucked around with this message at Apr 17, 2015 around 23:40

chin up everything sucks
Jan 29, 2012



Oh gently caress, the Shark Mafia has found me!

Winged Orpheus
May 21, 2010

Domine, Dirige Nos


Martello, Warforged Artificer



"Gentlemen, let me introduce you to M4R-T3LL0, the newest House Cannith creation. From our sentient automaton line, Martello is designed for extended operation behind enemy lines without resupply. He can provide long-range fire support, as well as first aid capability combined with both magical and mechanical maintenance. His alchemical skills can keep a patrol group operating at peak efficiency for extended deployments, as well as providing additional combat utility. In short, Martello is the ultimate force multiplier. Like all House Cannith creations, he is truly Forged for War. Now, gentlemen, where shall we start the bidding?"

Forged for War...

Those are the words that define my existence from my earliest memories. I was built to be a soldier in the Great War. I was sold to the highest bidder, given orders from my earliest days. I had no Freedom, but I had Purpose. I performed admirably at the functions I was designed for, and was respected for my abilities. Though I did not have friends, I had peers. I knew my place, and I was content. Then the Day of Mourning came. Cyre was burned from the face of the earth, and the Great War became the Last War. Nations quickly made peace in the face of this new terror. Shortly after came the Proclamation, and automatons like myself were granted personhood. We were no longer property, and able to pursue our own paths. I had been Forged for War, and now there was no war.

Now I have Freedom, but no Purpose.

I was Forged for a thing that no longer exists, and so I must Forge myself anew. Though there is no more war, there is still need for those who can fight. I sell my services for coin, which I can trade for the things I will require. I have no Purpose, and so I will build one for myself. The whispers of the crowd speak of a new contract available, one with both great risk and great reward. Perhaps this is where I will find what I require...

Winged Orpheus fucked around with this message at Apr 19, 2015 around 17:27

Necroskowitz
Jan 20, 2011


Jasirak, "the Extractor," Eladrin Mage and Ciar the Fey Panther.



The elven race can hardly be said to be a monolith. And that's assuming you're even willing to consider those of us that got stranded here four years ago as being the same kind of people as the folk over in Aerenal. I'm not so sure I'd fault you if you didn't. First, you've have House Phiarlan fighting to put down the upstart Thuranni. People might say Phiarlan's the "nicer" of the two, but don't kid yourself they'll both gut you if there's profit in it. The only real difference is that Thuranni actually makes that their selling point. Things aren't even much better in the "homeland" where you have the traditional ancestor worship getting besieged by human religions like the Silver Flame and supposed progressive movements like the Blood of Vol.

And despite the fact that all these groups might all hate each other and want to see the others burn there remains the simple fact that they all still have to deal with each other. Trade must flow, temporary ceasefires have to be brokered, sanctuaries have to be respected. Officially they can't even speak to one another, it's bad for morale, undermines the narrative, you see. So they need some back channels, intermediaries, folks they can talk through that have no connection to anyone, expendable assets, creatures... like me.

It started out simple communication, like I said but then I started brokering prisoner transfers. I had to secure private areas, keep the parties in line, and really, mediate the whole process. The higher ups may not have wanted bloodshed but I'd be damned if the grunts they sent weren't twitchy. Still I always got the job done. In time I even set up my own little side venture, extraction.

You see sometimes people don't just want to switch sides in their war, they want to get out entirely... or at the very least fight in a different one. That can be difficult to do on your own, if not impossible. There's identification papers, travel papers, folks that know your face, people that will look for you. That's not even including the bastards that keep vials of your blood on hand to make it easier to track you magically. In circumstances like that you need an expert. And enchantment's useful for a lot more than just parlor tricks.

Now any forger can get you new papers but it takes a guy like me to make people forget key bits about you. Like who you usually hang out with, what your face looks like, or all those little secrets you spilled while drunk. We enchanters haunt minds, can craft dreams or nightmares out of the ether, or make long held memories a little fuzzier than they once were. We might not have the glamour of raining fire down on our enemies or tearing the dead out of the ground to fight for us, but we have our ways. Some of us even have willingness to use them.

I was a legend in the underworld, a rumor, a ghost. The inquistives refused to believe I even existed, and how could I when it was just easier to assume some gangster got thrown off a tower rather than that some disappearer was hiding them from the world. I had a whole system. When people wanted to vanish they'd go through the proper channels to make it known they wanted "out" of whatever it is they were "in." In time I'd find them and send Ciar, and old friend from back home, to "contact" them and establish they had enough money to make it worth my while. They'd follow her to some secluded area where I'd find them and take them someplace for storage while I worked out the details of erasing their old life and giving them a new one. Some of those with enough pull in the underworld knew how to contact me (or who they was me) directly though, but they weren't willing to rat on me just in case they needed an out themselves. No, it was my "day" job that got me where I am today.

She was some House Phiarlan type, had the mark and everything, came to me wanting to plan a negotiation with some Thuranni representative over something or other. I arranged the meet but what happened wasn't the curt, derisive negotiation I'd expected. Phiarlan came in force, I'm talking heavily armed an armored house types along and warforged mercenaries too. They put down the Thuranni's guards and strung the rep up right there. Turn's out House Phiarlan had new a policy they just put in place: House Thuranni is not welcome in Sharn.

Needless to say this put me in a bad position, my entire business was built on neutrality and client trust and the "noble" House Phiarlan just through that out the window. I had no doubt that House Thuranni had their own retort to the Phiarlan declaration but I'd be damned if I was gonna stick around and get caught in the crossfire. I did the best I could to cover my tracks, which as you could imagine was pretty good. But I had work quickly and didn't have the time to the little touches my clients had come appreciate. So after I was reasonably satisfied with what I'd done I jumped ship to the Lower City with what few trinkets and gold I could carry.

I eventually caught wind that House Tarkanan was involved in something so I made it known that there was a new mage in town... and that this "Jasirak" was looking for work.

Necroskowitz fucked around with this message at Apr 18, 2015 around 21:19

Rtwo
Jan 25, 2013


"They told me 'As to diseases make a habit of two things: to help, or at least, to do no harrssnnnkkkkttt-bwahahaha!' Sorry. I neffer can get through that line with a straight face. My approach is more 'You can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs'..."

Dr. Grace Hellingsforth
Halfling Cleric of the Sovereign Host



"Back-alley chop-shop" is such a nasty term, I think. This is a perfectly reputable clinic that happens to not ask too many questions about who's hurt or how anything happened. Got a few broken bones, couple of scratches and cuts, maybe something startin' to go a bit runny? I can get you fixed up, no sweat. No no, you don't haff to sign anything. Just make sure the silffer goes clink like it should.

All right, hop up on the table here, let's haff a look at you. No, it's not a ffery big table. I'm not a ffery big doctor.

Of course I'm in the Cogs. No bloody reason to haff a chirurgeon up where you can see the sunshine, I think. What's gonna do anybody any harm up there? Down in the mud there's all sorts of nasty critters running around, people working hard labor for a liffing -- lots of heaffy machinery with wheels and mangles and stuff, ffery interesting, you know -- probably a buncha diseases nobody's effer bothered to study yet. Fascinatin' the stuff you see come in here. I'd keep a journal, only writing down who I'ff seen is a good way to get your knees broke.

Oh my, look here. If I were to guess I'd say this is the sort of crossbow bolt issued to beat coppers on the Sharn Watch. Not that I'm one to guess, see, they all use the same sort of feathering you'ff got sticking out of your shoulder, there.

Eh? Nah, I don't care. Nunnamybusiness. The Watch got a quarrel with you, or you got a quarrel from the Watch, not my place to ask. Here, might want a drink of this, it's brandy, or at least that's what's written on the bottle. Probably best not to ask too much about that, either.

That was a joke, by the way. About the quarrel. See, it means "argument" but it's also another word for a crossbo-- oh, stop squirming, it'll be out in a second. Crossbow bolt. Some people call those quarrels too. Now hold still. It's important to keep a good sense of humor in this line of work, you know? Keeps the patients at ease.

There, that wasn't so bad, was it?

It was? Hum.

Well, now we'ff got a big nasty open wound straight through, big enough I could put two fingers in, see? Oh, stop it, you're fine. It's not like they're ffery big fingers. Anyway, really we're just getting started...

---

Dr. Hellingsforth's doesn't advertise herself as a cleric of the Sovereign Host too much, though that's how she was raised. Her biggest secret is that she's not just a clinician with a surprisingly low mortality rate given the conditions: she was born Catherine Grace Lorelai d'Jorasco, and bears the Mark of Healing.

Unfortunately, a morbid fascination with injury and disease and a very... shall we say hands-on approach to anatomical lore does not make a well-founded career among the nobler circles of society. Despite the Mark she's an outcast from her house, taking her magic and her expertise down into the lowest parts of Sharn, where they're needed most. That's right, it's wholly by virtue that she's down here. Practically charity work. It's not because you end up seeing some of the most fascinating wounds...

Gharbad the Weak
Feb 23, 2008

This too good for you.




Barxikas Rollings, a.k.a. Smiles Sweet, Paladin of The Keeper.


"Just because you're mean doesn't mean you can't be nice about it.

See, everyone has their place. Now, most people think life as a pyramid, with those at the bottom supporting the top. This is a misconception; life is a funnel, with those at the top pouring riches to those at the bottom. Well, as long as you're not in the funnel yourself.

No, you want to be at the VERY bottom, where everything just pours out, and you just take whatever you want.

Greed is good. How could the greatest of advancements come without greed? People want, and they want, and they want. Power, respect, wealth, women, wine: all this desire, it drives innovation, and greatness, and all the world.

But how do you manage to take and take and take without running amok amongst various backstabbings? Well, again, everyone has their place. At the bottom (and I mean the very bottom), there's more than you could hope to capture on your own. You need others, trust, respect. You need a (reasonable) sense of honor about it all. People need to know what to expect, and you need to expect that others see you as useful to them as they are to you.

And you need those skills, too. Greed is empowered by Greed. Everyone wants something, and you need something to offer to get what you want. And that's where being nice comes into play. People want to help their friends. People know that you're useful, and profitable. And they're willing to pay out the nose for a little bit of profit.

I've been too long alone in this city. I need to make sure the city knows what I have to offer. And I want to know what it can offer me."

Gharbad the Weak fucked around with this message at Apr 17, 2015 around 19:31

Wahad
May 19, 2011



Everything by design.



Sameen "Brick" Stone, Longtooth Shifter Brawler Fighter Legbreaker Extraordinaire

Why they call me Brick? Because people with axes to grind use me to bash in heads and break knees, and because I can take enough of a beating to do so effectively. Because I'm not subtle, but I'm effective and everybody knows it. I don't give a gnome's rear end if you're Draask or Tarkanen or just a nobody. You pay me, I break who or what you want me to break. You don't pay, I break you and then you pay me.

---

Growing up, Sameen's life wasn't so bad. Sure, her parents weren't rich - nobody but the big names are in the Cogs - but they worked hard to make sure they had a piece of their own. Of course, living in the Cogs meant dealing with the criminal element. When she was younger, her parents paid their "protection money" with only minor hesitation, because they wanted to protect their daughter. Sam didn't love her parents as much as they did her, though. Not that she didn't want to. After all, as far as she understood it, parents and children are supposed to love eachother, and take care of eachother. That's how families worked. But she did not feel any particular feeling towards her parents at all. Or to anyone else, for that matter.

So, as she grew up, she decided that if she couldn't love them, she could at least take care of them. She started working small jobs for some cash to help afford things around the house, as well as learning how to repair things - both furniture and people. She got stronger simply by virtue of hard labor. And when one day, the protection fees were raised to outrageous proportions, and Sameen's parents said they couldn't pay, she took care of them another way. The thugs sent to collect were left with broken knees after they tried to grab the girl when she was trying to fix her bed, the hammer she'd previously used to pound the nails into the wood stained with blood. Other thugs who came to collect met similar grisly fates. Young Sameen, for the first time in her life, felt a feeling. Anger. Anger that the bad guys kept trying to destroy what her parents' had built.

The logical solution was to stop them from doing so, but after the third time, she noticed how badly her parents were trying to hide their worry and fear. Fear of her. So she left home and started working for others. Doing what she did best. And when idiots tried to collect on the payment owed, she stopped them before they could get to her parents' house. As she grew up, the people in charge of such idiots decided it wasn't worth the risk, and since that day, the Stone family wasn't in debt to anybody anymore. But Sameen - or Brick, as some now called her - had found what she was good at. Violence. With a lack of concern for those she inflicted her calling upon, she was as effective an enforcer as anyone could hope for. Money she earned was delivered to her parents, anonymously. Love was perhaps not something that could be shared between them, but she was still going to take care of them. That's how it was supposed to work.

Wahad fucked around with this message at Apr 18, 2015 around 10:40

Olanphonia
Jul 27, 2006

I'm open to suggestions~

Brangor "The Tree"


Brangor was the child of Meltha and an anonymous man and grew up in the arms of the Iron Wolves, a small gang that once operated in the depths of the Lower City. The Iron Wolves tried to live symbiotically within their neighborhood, rather than parasitically like the other gangs in the area, including Daask. While technically residing within Daask's territory, the Iron Wolves were tolerated because they didn't directly compete with Daask's main sources of income. The Iron Wolves extracted some protection money and provided hiding places for people on the run from the Watch. In exchange, they spent a great deal of effort preventing other gangs and organizations from preying on their neighborhood.

Until the time he was 23, this system worked for both the Iron Wolves and for Brangor. He had established himself as a sort of enforcer within the Iron Wolves. Big, strong, and able to take a hit and keep on fighting, he had gained a respectable place within the Iron Wolves. Eventually, he had even won the alias 'The Tree' among the locals due to his size, resilience, and, somewhat ironically, his favored axe. All of that came to an end in a brutal raid by a neighboring gang, The Mailed Fist, that left the entire leadership of the Iron Wolves dead and the membership scattered to the four winds. Brangor himself barely survived a gut wound he took while trying to aid the escape of some of the Wolves.

His physical recovery was slow, but he never recovered from the loss of his adopted family. In the years since, Brangor has spent his time doing whatever work he could find. He worked as an enforcer at one of Daask's gambling establishments, spent time as a 'collections agent' for a loan shark, and worked, very briefly, as a butcher in a Skyway butcher shop. Throughout, he has burned to do something that matters. Something he can be proud of. But drat if he can find what that would be. The Tree wants to pull up his roots.

Olanphonia fucked around with this message at Apr 22, 2015 around 23:52

frajaq
Jan 30, 2009

#acolyte GM of 2014


I'm liking what I'm seeing guys!

...but it's pretty drat scary that it's only been roughly 2 days and there's already 15 apps

John Dyne
Jul 3, 2005

Allergic to Seinfeld.

frajaq posted:

I'm liking what I'm seeing guys!

...but it's pretty drat scary that it's only been roughly 2 days and there's already 15 apps

Welcome to the world of running D&D.

Maxwell Lord
Dec 12, 2008

I am drowning.
There is no sign of land.
You are coming down with me, hand in unlovable hand.

And I hope you die.

I hope we both die.




Grimey Drawer



Robert Vandelar-Smith

It's the funniest thing. I was in Varna making a few bets on the gryphon races, I have a good day at the track and some guys talk to me about getting in the stable business, I make a few deals, the deals start to go bad, my bets start to go bad, I think I'm engaged to the stable-owner's daughter and she's a nice enough girl but a man needs his freedom, I think she may have been House Vadalis, very large fellows start following me around, long story short I get to Passage quick as I can and ride the lightning rails all the way South.

So here I am. Innocent as can be, just tellin' a few stories and singin' a few songs. That is not paying out as well as I hoped, so what's this about a job?

[Equipment is very subject to change, it's a part of the CB software I'm struggling with.]

ArkInBlack
Mar 22, 2013



Fuere, Barbarian formerly of the Demon Wastes

The last time I remember being able to act of my own will was when me and my brothers-in-arms accepted the demon's blood. Driven back and into a corner by our bitter rivals it was that or be slaughtered to the last. As the daemonic power made me strong I lost myself to it, becoming thrall to the demon's will. Honoring his bargain we were made to slaughter our ancestral foes, before turning upon our kin who denied to drink the blood. It didn't even cause me to break stride when ordered to do it, even now feeling like the act performed by another.

The demon continued his machinations, finding those driven to the brink and making his lopsided offer. Using the tainted already amassed to further corner the desperate and to harry the more composed clans. This time is a blur to me, of eternal combat, pillaging, and slaughter of innocents. After a time the ranks swelled and the subtly stopped. No longer he did offer the desperate a bargain, but made way through the wastes with us, his loyal army, demanding all he came across the choice, the knee or the sword. Many died, and many more joined the growing horde.

Eventually his goal was manifested, to leave the barren wastes atop the continent and bring his wrath and destruction to the rest of Khorvaire and this build up was for one purpose, to push past the Graash'kala and into the mainland. The orc clans, however, had not been caught unaware. Warned by the spirits of nature, our demonic horde was met by the combined might of the Graash'kala clans at the edge of the Demon Wastes, at a place of their choosing. We crashed upon their ranks like the tide against the shore, and though odds favored the orcs we knew no pain or reason, only of blood and fury. The ferocious fighting lasted an eternity and seemed it would continue as such, until the demon played his hand. Whether he intended his horde to be a distraction from the start or not, he made to slip by while the battle raged, only to be caught in an ambush set by the clan's mightiest champions.

The skirmish I played a role in was but a minor scuffle compared to the titanic clash, terrible talons meeting Graash'kala blade, demonic power meeting primal magics. In the end, the demon who commanded us, no, who owned us, body and soul, fell to the combined might of the Graash'kala champions. The others, my supposed fellows, either continued the fight and died, or routed and fled back into the wastes, but I saw an opportunity and took it. Whether driven by my former master's last desire or my own wants now that I was freed from my shackles, I saw freedom from the wastes and having finally been given back myself I took it, slipping past the beleaguered orcs and into Khorvaire.

I feel it within me still, to this day. The burning hatred and malice that is his blood, urging me to destroy and kill anyone and everyone, offering the power to do it if only I appease the eternal desire to destroy and slaughter. I have accepted these offers from time to time, dowsing myself in the burning rage that once drove every fiber of my being to wreck havoc upon those that are my enemies. But I have and will never let it engulf me wholly, I shall keep my mind clear and driven to my goals, not its. I'm my own master now, and I intend to keep it that way!

berenzen
Jan 23, 2012

Wings Out


Grimey Drawer



Ember, aka "Red Devil"

The Last War was hell on all of us. Some of us more than others, we saw death, devestation and destruction enmasse. The worst of atrocities were committed, and the Mournland was the worst of them. It was a constant reminder of our sins. When the war ended, we- the common footsoldiers- were cast aside like trash. Left to fend for ourselves, and to try and move past the darkness we witnessed. None of us came back with our own selves intact. Me? I broke in a way differently than most. I threw myself into battle and war, fire and brimstone. I went mercenary, working for anyone who paid the most.

I'll admit, I'm not a good person. I worked for the Boromar, Daask, Tarkanan and the Tyrants, as well as a dozen other petty gangs willing to pay my price. Beyond that, I've worked for some noble families under the table as a bodyguard. But that poo poo's boring, and kinda dangerous considering I'm pretty sure the city watch is looking for me, despite the fact that I pay up every month you never know if there's a fresh faced naive rookie around. Getting arrested is no joke, cause then you gotta pay again to get out. After the incident 3 weeks ago, Ive been hiding out in the Cogs. I burned down a watchtower, and I think I killed a couple guards by accident. I was supposed to be creating a distraction, and the watchtower was supposed to be abandoned.

So here I am, down in the cogs, trying to find my way around until the heat dies down a bit. Eking by, pulling garbage jobs, cause I can't go up to the surface right now. Not for the next week or so, when they remember that I'm paying them and they forget about it. But, there's this security contract that's being floated around, and honestly, I think I'll take it. It looks like promising work, and hell House Tarkanan might be able to pay off the watch enough to keep them off my back again. They're being pretty hush hush, but it seems like pretty good pay.

berenzen fucked around with this message at Apr 18, 2015 around 09:30

frajaq
Jan 30, 2009

#acolyte GM of 2014


Ok jesus I definitely don't want to have to choose between a million apps so I'm gonna change the deadline to April 20 - Monday, 21:00 EST

Make your apps complete until then!

frajaq fucked around with this message at Apr 18, 2015 around 18:45

Gharbad the Weak
Feb 23, 2008

This too good for you.


frajaq posted:

Ok jesus I definitely don't want to have to choose between a million apps so I'm gonna change the deadline to April 21st - Monday, 21:00 EST

Make your apps complete until then!

People on SA fuckin' LOVE 4e.

Also, if this had been a paragon game, you'd probably have gotten like triple the applications.

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John Dyne
Jul 3, 2005

Allergic to Seinfeld.

frajaq posted:

Ok jesus I definitely don't want to have to choose between a million apps so I'm gonna change the deadline to April 21st - Monday, 21:00 EST

Make your apps complete until then!

Tuesday is the 21st. I'd know, my house closing was going to be then.

Are we closing Monday or the 21st?

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