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Tricky Dick Nixon posted:
quote:My suggestion might be to focus on the aspect of wanting to overcome the curse, similar to Egina's orcish connection, which could make you a character that is totemic for the kenku and might rally them to evil. quote:The other minor note: Eagles are kind of symbols of righteousness and good in this setting, maybe it'd be more accurate to say your character is empowered by elemental evil air, ala Yan-C-Bin? quote:The other issue is with the Chaotic alignment, I'm curious what would cause them to bond with the party. I assume they would view them as a new flock in kenku fashion, but I'd like your take in what would keep your character from thinking the path to glory would be defeating the villains they are working with. Besides, some of the apps are people Kiai might actually enjoy being around. Wol fucked around with this message at 21:21 on May 29, 2018 |
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May 29, 2018 21:17
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Tricky Dick Nixon posted:What is your role in the new world order after the victory of Asmodeus? Do not hold back. Every terrible imagining of what is possible after the complete and utter victory of evil, what do you do? What is the glorious epilogue you feel you deserve, the role you will play under diabolic tyranny? Tlaloc serves the voice. With Asmodeus running the show there won't have to be any more skulking in the shadows. He'll be able to carry out his rituals freely. quote:Though a few of you have mentioned it, describe for me in a paragraph or so your character's justification as to why they got caught. Obviously they themselves are not to blame, so who is? Name names. Give me some faces, some people that need to be paid against. And if possible, give a hint of what failings of your character were truly at fault. The gnomes of Skarria found Tlaloc pilfering from the grave of a gnomish hero, Reddlepop Tarkelby. Tlaloc had failed to properly scout out the graveyard and didn't notice the patrol making their way through the cemetery. The captain of the guard, a rock gnome by the name of Burgell Glittergem, dragged Tlaloc in front of the Gnomish court after letting some of his lackeys work out their frustrations on the sorcerer. The presiding judge happened to be Lorilla Tarkelby, a direct descendant of the occupant of the grave Tlaloc desecrated. She gave him the harshest sentence possible and saw to it that he would never be a free man. quote:Tlaloc: I like this aesthetic and feeling, though it feels there's a lot of unanswered questions for us to build on. For one, Tlaloc is a half-elf but it doesn't seem to feature at all into his background. Does it mean anything to him at all? What do you think are the sources of his magic in his heritage? How do you square the idea of "Everybody's Friend" when you wear a skull for a mask, collect dead corpses, and listen to voices of the land telling to you kill? Tlaloc was born unwanted. His mother had betrayed her people, the Shalish, by leaving the Banishlands and fraternizing with human men in Lucidor. When she returned home pregnant and desperate for help her family, the Siannodels, took her back in, but Tlaloc never had a chance of living a normal life. He was reluctantly allowed to live among the Shalish until his powers began to manifest when he was about 16 years old. That was when the tension escalated to an untenable level. The voice speaking to him a few months later and demanding he carry out odd tasks did not help to relieve the tension, and not long after Tlaloc was discovered using the entrails of a deer to perform some bizarre ritual. He was, ironically, banished from the Banishlands immediately. From there he wandered South and managed to survive off the land near The Desperations. He rarely had contact with intelligent lifeforms unless the voice commanded it and has spent the majority of his life in the forests and foothills seeking enlightenment on why the voice has chosen him and if the voice is anything more than a hallucination conjured up by a traumatized mind. Tlaloc remains unsure of why the land chose him and is almost afraid to push for answers on the matter. (I meant to change his feat to "Menacing", "Everybody's Friend" was from an earlier version of the character that was less Scooby-Doo villain. I'll update my original post to reflect this.)
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May 30, 2018 00:54
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Below is a work in progress but well underway. Hriss the Unbroken Name: Hriss the Unbroken Race: Lizardfolk Age: 20 Size: Medium (7’6’’) Class: Barbarian Level One (Path of the Totem Warrior at Level Three) Alignment: Lawful Evil Background: Sailor Branding: Attempted Murder Languages: Common, Draconic Hit Points: 17 Initiative: +3 AC: 18 (10 + Dex 3 + Con 5, Barbarian) (If Lizardfolk 13 + Dex 3 = 16) Speed: 30ft walking, 30ft swimming Passive Perception: 15 Passive Investigation: 15 Passive Insight: 15 Attributes (Modifier/Saving Throw) Strength: 16 (3/5) Proficient Dexterity: 16 (3/3) Constitution: 20 (5/7) Proficient Intelligence: 16 (3/3) Wisdom: 16 (3/3) Charisma: 8 (-1/-1) http://orokos.com/roll/626723 Skills (Proficiency Bolded) Acrobatics +3 Animal Handling +3 Arcana +3 Athletics +5 Sailor Deception -1 History +3 Insight +3 Intimidation +1 Barbarian Investigation +3 Medicine +3 Nature +5 Barbarian Perception +5 Sailor Performance -1 Persuasion -1 Religion +3 Sleight of Hand +3 Stealth +5 Lizardfolk Hunters Lore Survival +5 Lizardfolk Hunters Lore Armor Proficiency: Light, Medium, Shields Weapon Proficiency: Simple, Martial Tools: Navigation (Sailor Background) Proficiency: Water vehicles Background Feature: Attempted Murder: You tried to kill someone and didn't finish the job, leaving them bleeding but alive. To be sent to Branderscar Prison, you did not try to kill just anyone, but someone of great importance and prominence. You are to be beheaded. Benefit: As Pirate, as your bad reputation allows you to get away with minor crimes as no one wants to invoke your wrath. Class Features: Rage - In battle, you fight with primal ferocity. On your turn, you can enter a rage as a bonus action. While raging, you gain the following benefits if you aren’t wearing heavy armor: • You have advantage on Strength checks and Strength saving throws. • When you make a melee weapon attack using Strength, you gain a bonus to the damage roll that increases as you gain levels as a barbarian, as shown in the Rage Damage column of the Barbarian table. • You have resistance to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage Unarmored Defense - While you are not wearing any armor, your Arm or Class equals 10 + your Dexterity modifier + your Constitution modifier. You can use a shield and still gain this benefit. Reckless Attack (2nd Level) - Starting at 2nd level, you can throw aside all concern for defense to attack with fierce desperation. When you make your first attack on your turn, you can decide to attack recklessly. Doing so gives you advantage on melee weapon attack rolls using Strength during this turn, but attack rolls against you have advantage until your next turn. Danger Sense (2nd Level) - At 2nd level, you gain an uncanny sense of when things nearby aren’t as they should be, giving you an edge when you dodge away from danger. You have advantage on Dexterity saving throws against effects that you can see, such as traps and spells. To gain this benefit, you can’t be blinded, deafened, or incapacitated. Primal Path (3rd Level) - Current plan is to select “Path of the Totem Warrior” and the While raging, you have resistance to all damage except psychic damage. The spirit of the Feats: Great Weapon Mastery You’ve learned to put the weight of a weapon to your advantage, letting its momentum empower your strikes. You gain the following benefits: • On your turn, when you score a critical hit with a melee weapon or reduce a creature to 0 hit points with one, you can make one m elee weapon attack as a bonus action. • Before you make a melee attack with a heavy weapon that you are proficient with, you can choose to take a - 5 penalty to the attack roll. If the attack hits, you add +10 to the attack’s damage. Spell Save DC: N/A Spell Attack Modifier: N/A Cantrips: N/A Known/Prepared Spells: N/A Spell Slots: N/A Equipment: 50 gp Greatsword 2d6 slashing (Heavy, two handed) 50gp Longbow 1d8 piercing ( Ammunition (range 150/600), heavy, two-handed) 2gp 40 arrows 12gp Dungeoneer’s Pack (1Includes a backpack, a crowbar, a hammer, 10 pitons, 10 torches, a tinderbox, 10 daysof rations, and a waterskin, 50 feet of hempen rope strapped to the side of it) 5gp Healers Kit 50gp Potion of Healing 2d4+2 15gp Shield 16gp worth of high quality food, primarily meat Background: New fluff post prompted by feedback in discord and DM discussion. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1uze_3cUPdo-Cq5ZuGSxyjXUxuaQC9UHeE_mvmwSOpAs/edit?usp=sharing Synopsis: Hriss' captain and crew left him stranded in a Gebroan cell. Hriss' possessions are on the ship and he wants them back.[/i] What Hriss aspires to: Most lizardfolk will not plan longer than they have to. They think of their next meal, a warm place to sleep. Hriss' journey aboard a ship of trade and occasional plunder has shown him that while the soft skins are often weak and tasty they have unique ideas worthy of consideration. He considers how much safer his people would be if they began to form alliances, trade for weapons and food, and grow strong enough to eliminate their enemies. He has begun to learn how to plot, to scheme, to look farther ahead than tomorrow. The world does not suspect his cunning. They only see a scaled brute. He will show them their error. Traits: Once lizardfolk forge ties with outsiders, they are steadfast and fierce allies. Survival is one of the most important things to lizardfolks. If an ally has proven reliable Hriss will reward this reliability with loyalty and respect Ideal: Mastery. I’m a predator, and the other ships on the sea are my prey. (Evil) While lizardfolks are inherently neutral the experiences on board a sailing ship of a less than reputable reputation has exposed Hriss to ideas and ideals that the softer races share and operate by. Where before Hriss might have attacked someone to simply feed or remove a threat he has learned that crushing an enemy or a rival brings prestige and fear. And while the emotions behind these things don't register with his way of thinking he is well aware of what the softer races think of these acts. And is intelligent enough to know how they regard them as right or wrong. Bond: I was cheated out of my fair share of the profits, and I want to get my due. While money has little value to lizardfolk Hriss has learned it has some uses. More importantly when he was left by his captain and crew to rot in a Gebroan jail cell they set sail with Hriss' prized possessions. The party and the machinations of the conspiracy that they are involved with offer Hriss a path back to reclaiming his possessions. He will also enjoy the chance to eat Captain Ortiz. Hriss has learned that eating someone inspires a great deal of fear in soft skins. And somehow the more important they are the better they taste. Flaw: I know if something is right or wrong. I just don't care. Lizardfolk just think differently than the majority of the races. However due to Hriss' exposure to the world outside the swamps and villages of his people he has come to learn what others to be right or wrong. But if it is a means to his continued survival Hriss does not care. He knows that a human considers murder wrong. But no human has been strong enough to stop Hriss yet if the situation called for it. Lizardfolk Quirk: You appreciate the soft humanoids who realize they need chain mail and swords to match the gifts you were born with. Soft skins bleed easy. It is wise of them to try to protect themselves. Hriss appreciates a will to survive. Trast fucked around with this message at 05:21 on Jun 2, 2018 |
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May 30, 2018 01:09
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Tricky Dick Nixon posted:What is your role in the new world order after the victory of Asmodeus? Do not hold back. Every terrible imagining of what is possible after the complete and utter victory of evil, what do you do? What is the glorious epilogue you feel you deserve, the role you will play under diabolic tyranny? Shadow has no problem serving a master that is sufficiently strong, and gives him the freedom he desires. He sees himself as a free agent, hunting those that dare stand against the will of Asmodeus. Especially any leftovers from the Temple of Eavarias. Sniffing out and destroying so called heroes, and getting rewarded for it. Once they're all hunted, maybe he'd start his own monastery. Cull the weak from the strong, train the best to follow him, teach the few worthy the secret ways of the long dead monks. Be better than those that taught himself. Or just find a nice fire, some slaves to keep it stoked and bring him the freshest fish on command, and finally relax. Until he gets bored again. quote:Though a few of you have mentioned it, describe for me in a paragraph or so your character's justification as to why they got caught. Obviously they themselves are not to blame, so who is? Name names. Give me some faces, some people that need to be paid against. And if possible, give a hint of what failings of your character were truly at fault. Who? That damnable Sister Kaldran, with her accursed poison breath, that's who. She was the only one who could even BEGIN to keep up with me. It was fitting she was green, always chasing after me, trying to beat me. During our training she could never beat me, but always got the higher praise for her "perfect form" when tested by the Masters. She came for me all the way in Sandsend. Didn't have any proof, just interrupted my act yelling and crying about the "poor Master Galruuk" and some other fools that died in the fire. I know no one saw me that night. Disappearing was suspicious, but hardly worth this witchhunt. She chased me for three days and three nights around Sandsend, with the idiot twins Dokris and Fulkris behind her. Big and slow, but stubborn, those two. And some halfling child that would sniffle and sneeze whenever they were near me. I got away from them going roof to roof, but somehow they caught up with me at the city gate. I tried to stow away on a boat, but she found me again. She tracked me past the temples, through the blacksmiths, until I finally lost her in the back alleys by ducking through a brothel. I was right, the perfumes prevented the child from locating me. Or rather, made her sneeze at everything. Maybe I should have kept running, but I'd had enough of this game. I climbed the wall across the street from the brothel, claws dug into the wall. They didn't so much as glance up as they passed under me. I dropped down, and they didn't even turn. The child's neck snapped easily enough, and before they could react I had taken the legs out from Dokris... or Fulkris, one of the two, and crushed his larynx. What I wasn't expecting was Kaldran to have as little care for the life of her followers as I did. She spit poison at me, choking all of us. It was enough to slow me down, and that's how I ended up here. Next time, I will not underestimate her. Next time I will rip her tail off and choke her to death with it. quote:Shadow: There is an unspoken tension of growing frustration. A complete lack of moral fiber or willingness to learn, that makes me think of a cat. Perhaps without the care of tabaxi parents to rear it, they do tend to grow awry. I like that quality a fair bit, but it conflicts a bit with your apparent obsession with perfection, which I'd pair with a secret trait if you can think of one. The other minor quibble I have is regarding the gladiatorial background: There are no blood sports in Talingarde. I don't mind you taking the background but it would better represent being more an Italian-style "bravo" and getting into duels and vendettas on the streets of Lucidor, which had an honor culture even before the dragonborn arrived, and still practices dueling even if they have to keep it secret from the church. Updated the background to straight Entertainer (No mechanical differences) and edited it a bit. Changed the ideal to fit more with his Might Makes Right worldview. Also added more catlike dickishness.
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May 30, 2018 01:55
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Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Pharom This is an option I wouldn't normally consider but your concept really would justify it: Would you be interested in trying Artificer as an Alchemist? You'd want to switch the Dexterity and Intelligence but otherwise it should fit. Pharom has been reborn as an Alchemist! Tricky Dick Nixon posted:What is your role in the new world order after the victory of Asmodeus? Do not hold back. Every terrible imagining of what is possible after the complete and utter victory of evil, what do you do? What is the glorious epilogue you feel you deserve, the role you will play under diabolic tyranny? Even now, my imagination tempts me of the could-have-beens. What WOULD my life look like if I had been able to complete my work? I'd live forever, of course, as would a select few worthy that I it. I had initially planned on spreading the blessings of my work far and wide, but the people of Talingarde have proven that they don't deserve it. And anyway, there would be so much to do! Yes, I would be a groundbreaking researcher! I would revolutionize Alchemy, bringing it into the prominence it so richly deserves! In fact, I'd be the Headmaster of the new Alchemic Academy! I'd have people to gather reagents and bodies. I could do any experiments I wanted without having to worry about what small minded zealots thought. I'd be pursued by those in power to solve their problems, and after they filled the Academy's coffers, I'd have a brand new problem to put my considerable talents towards, all without leaving the comfort of my lab. Truly, that would be paradise. Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Though a few of you have mentioned it, describe for me in a paragraph or so your character's justification as to why they got caught. Obviously they themselves are not to blame, so who is? Name names. Give me some faces, some people that need to be paid against. And if possible, give a hint of what failings of your character were truly at fault. Oh, I have a list, all right. Little good it will do me in here, though... Right at the top? Talfen Leerstrom. As we joined the academy at roughly the same time, you could call him a peer, if you wanted to be grossly insulting my abilities by comparing the two of us. Despite any genius on his part, he took to our lessons like a fish to water, easily able to regurgitate whatever answer the instructors were looking for. In fact, it's really all his fault I'm stuck in here. He'd tried to "tutor" me when I was struggling with Arcana classes, but I could tell he was just doing it to rub my nose in his success. And when I finally make a brilliant breakthrough in Alchemy? About the exact combinations of reagents that revivify necrotic flesh? He gives me a stern look, saying, "That's not funny. Don't joke about those sort of things." I went and robbed my first grave that night, convinced that I was going to be the one that rubbed his nose in it when I was recognized as the genius I truly am! After him, there's Johnathan Stronghearte, one of the Academy's Captain of the Guard. He's the one who investigated me when someone (Talfen, certainly) ratted me out and decided that I should be spied on by Brother Poran, a Mirian Inquisitor stationed at the Academy to look for signs of evil magic. Once Brother Poran decided he'd seen enough, Brother Poran and Johnathan led a lightning raid on my lab. Brother Poran's also the one who took my "confession" of grave robbing. The last thing Brother Poran said when I was being carted off was that he was sorry. I was briefly amazed that someone, finally, had recognized what a tragic farce this all had been. But, then he clarified, saying that he was the one who gave the confession to the magistrate, and he suggested that the magistrate would show a bit of leniency to a simple grave robber like myself. I reeled back as if he'd struck me, and then let out a terrible string of curses. Everything I had told him and he thought I was a simple grave robber? I.. admit... that it took a few hours for me to actually regain my composure, and we were long gone from the academy at that point. Oh, and of course, there's the Headmistress herself, Magitrix Bealina. She could have put a stop to the whole farce at any point, but she allowed the brightest mind that ever graced her academy to be dragged away, chained and disgraced.
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May 30, 2018 02:07
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Tricky Dick Nixon posted:What is your role in the new world order after the victory of Asmodeus? Do not hold back. Every terrible imagining of what is possible after the complete and utter victory of evil, what do you do? What is the glorious epilogue you feel you deserve, the role you will play under diabolic tyranny? What comes ‘after’ is not something the Worm often worries himself over. Either he will succeed in his revenge, or he will die trying. If he survives, if, then he will decide on a new goal. And if he dies, well, so be it. That is the way of things. He will simply rejoin his tribe sooner rather than later. But, if Worm was to survive? If he was to become great and powerful and someone far grander than his namesake, then, perhaps, he would establish a new tribe. Train them. Teach them. Show them that they could be more than just sneaks in the dark desperate for scraps. That they had an ancient lineage, a proud lineage, one that could grant them such power if they but took it (and made a dangerous deal or two). Power that would let them claim territory, real territory, not just dens to cower and squat in. The hobgoblins, the gnomes, the halflings, all those that commanded, demeaned, mocked, disdained, and thought themselves so superior… would have to bow or perish. To a goblin, of all creatures. Such a future would be more than worth serving a devil for. ...If Worm survived. quote:Though a few of you have mentioned it, describe for me in a paragraph or so your character's justification as to why they got caught. Obviously they themselves are not to blame, so who is? Name names. Give me some faces, some people that need to be paid against. And if possible, give a hint of what failings of your character were truly at fault. Worm had much time to simmer and stew on his journey to Branderscar. Time to reflect on what he knew, to plan for his escape. His retribution. “White-haired woman gave commands, like Sharpfang raid leader. Invaders followed her orders, charged in. But no fear in them. None. They respect white-haired woman. No. Revere her. Resolved to die for her. Even the gnomes would run, even the halflings would hide, when the Sharpfangs stalked. Can’t have won against tallfolk so stupid they don’t know to be afraid.The white-haired woman, she had no fear either. Not cold with disdain, not hot with hate. Nothing in her eyes as she slaughtered my kin. As if it meant nothing.” The thought made him shiver. Yet he would make the white-haired woman pay all the same. “Another one too. Armored. Staff. Priest? No… cleric. Watched from sides, guarded exit. But the cleric did not skulk in shadow, like Worm would. Out in open. Bold. Daring desperate goblins to try him. Try they did. No chance against the cleric’s magic. Brought kin down, but did not kill them with searing light. Finished off goblins with staff. Raised up, swung down. Again and again the cleric swung even when only a single blow needed. Forceful. More than needed. Almost savage. Only stopped when white-haired woman commanded. ‘A Flamen should know better,’ she spoke.” Flamen. A name and a brutality he would not forget. Though more intelligent and wise than your typical gobby, Worm still possesses a certain simpleness to him. Once he has a goal in mind, that is all that is on his mind. The aftermath of his goal, and the consequences that might come with it, is something to be considered when he gets there. Here, Worm shared freely his theory with his tribe, without thinking as to what a mess that theory spreading might result in if the wrong people heard. Now all his thoughts were preoccupied with stabbity-stabbing these two particular assholes, whatever it took. After that, who knows? quote:Worm: We discussed previously about archetype which is what I was going to ask more about. I am though not sure about the feeling of a goblin that has had no exposure to human culture somehow being better at History than most. I would try and incorporate something into the history that explains this, like discovering a dragon's old library or something. I've also been rolling in my head about the Heresy charge. I would probably say that really your crime is more like Blasphemy, though otherwise everything the same, and crucifixion still awaits you, but probably not much effort has been made to break you on the wheel or the like. Still working on how exactly Worm has such a grasp on History beyond just his tribe's knowledge! Changed my crime to Blapshemy as well, I did think Heresy didn't quite feel right either but it was the closest to what I had in mind. quote:As above, not required but I'd recommend a second trait. or to do what Tricky did and if you have it use the class traits as a basis for adding some more from Xanathar's. I would also probably suggest focusing on the more shillelagh route than primal savagery, if only to round things out. Thematically, might I recommend Infestation? (http://engl393-dnd5th.wikia.com/wiki/Infestation) Treasured Item: A necklace of fangs collected from the elders that passed before the destruction of my tribe. Guiding Aspect: As demonstrated by the actions of the wolf, an individual’s strength is nothing compared to the power of the pack. Mentor: I was not the only runt who learned from the elders of my tribe, and it was one of my fellow pupils who betrayed the location of our dens. Besides these class traits, I’m considering another Trait as well, but haven’t decided what yet. I also decided to change my Flaw from “My hatred of my enemies is blind and unreasoning,” to “Once I pick a goal, I become obsessed with it to the detriment of everything else in my life,” because I decided it tied in better to the events leading up to the destruction of the Sharpfang tribe. Cantrip-wise, while not taking Shillelagh does kind of make my quarterstaff more of a symbol more than a combat weapon (though that in itself isn’t bad), I think I like Primal Savagery more for tapping into that monstrous instinct and putting Worm’s sharp fangs to use. He’s much smarter and wiser than your average goblin, but at heart he’s still a goblin. I do like the look and feel of Infestation, however, and have replaced Magic Stone with it. TheFireMagi fucked around with this message at 03:42 on May 30, 2018 |
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May 30, 2018 02:49
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I am closing applications, so that my job of selecting fine villains won't be quite as dire. If you have posted on this thread or one of the folks that have discussed your concept with me on discord, feel free to post and finish it. I will probably decide late Wednesday on selections, and post them officially with some flavor and work on Thursday evening. Some more feedback for completed applications: Azura: I'm a bit conflicted about the Queen of the Underworld angle. It falls into a similar issue with a couple of other backgrounds is that there really isn't much way for organized crime to get a foothold. That isn't to say there is no way, just that it requires a little more creativity: Most criminal syndicates if they exist at all are little more than brigands and ruffians. A larger operation led by someone of high society would likely want to be coastal and doing some major contraband to be really profitable, like exporting slaves or something that is extremely risky for a noble to be doing. So maybe touch on why Ophelia takes that risk, because it could result in her and her entire noble line being disinherited. The second thing that sticks out to me is that the Wild Magic heritage doesn't get spotlighted in your history. Sorcerers are traditionally born, not made, and it reads as if Azura's power comes from the ritual, which sounds more like a Warlock. Ander: Calling him the boogeyman of Keshkevar might be a bit much, though I am certain he'd be quite infamous. Maybe a little self-delusion? He definitely reads like a urban legend. It's solid. Would Hunter be your focus and archetype? You covered a lot of bases here really so not much for me to hit on.
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May 30, 2018 05:25
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Tricky Dick Nixon posted:What is your role in the new world order after the victory of Asmodeus? Do not hold back. Every terrible imagining of what is possible after the complete and utter victory of evil, what do you do? What is the glorious epilogue you feel you deserve, the role you will play under diabolic tyranny? To be honest, Rekkar isn't a grand plans kind of guy. He's more about the getting there than where he's getting, and besides - he's just here to do business. Sure, plenty of bosses retire to be the duke of somewhere or another, maybe get their own island, but they don't really matter after that, do they? They're done, their story's over. Better than what most people mean when they talk about "Quitting the Overmob", though. It's all about power, about respect, about what you didn't have cause you were an orphan collecting bruises until you were big enough to start giving them out. Yeah, he's not bitter. Anyways, none of that's gonna happen in while he's in a cell. It shouldn't have happened, either. That judge-priest guy, Periam Morel, he was ready to roll over forever when Rekkar found about the daughter he wasn't supposed to have. Then his drat nephew and his stupidly-dressed friends showed up. Hey, don't get that look. Rekkar's a professional, he doesn't go after your family. He does hire them, though. The girl's named Rana Dandra (she picked it -- everybody does, in the Overmob) now, and she does (did) the books for half of his businesses. Rekkar's pretty sure she slipped the net. Anyway, it was like he was stuck in some kinda Mitran morality play. Rekkar found himself yelling taunts from the top floor of one of his places, of course the only one with a balcony, and even jumped down to fight the little blond bastard after what passes for muscle here got their teeth kicked in. He'd never do that, it's murder on your knees. And then he couldn't even hit the guy! Just swung away and lost while his girlfriend clutched her pearls on the sidelines. Seriously, it's like the guy had a guardian angel or something. Not his fault. I'm not joking when I said Rekkar was the villain for a party of 1st level anime portraits. If it's really unlikely that there could be a goliath orphan turned UNDERWORLD KINGPIN on the nearby continent, he'd work just fine as a half-orc. wiegieman fucked around with this message at 06:26 on May 30, 2018 |
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May 30, 2018 06:23
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 quote:Name: Niashé Minai Delacrie When the princes of Keshkevar were overthrown, worship of Asmodeus ceased. All of Talingarde joined under the banner Mitra and leapt forth into an age of peace and prosperity, free of the Lord of Nessus' evil influence. So goes the story, anyhow. While it's true that many Asmodeans were killed in the strife, and many more fled or capitulated, there were those who remained true. Those whose loyalty to Asmodeus was not so easily discarded. They hid their faith, of course, from their Mitran neighbours. They blended into society. As far as anyone else was concerned, they were perfectly innocuous noble families, running districts, overseeing trade and hosting parties as nobles were supposed to do. In secret, however, they continued to honour their dark Lord. They performed rituals, offered sacrifices that would at best have seen them exiled from society if the Mitran church had ever found out. Within the seclusion of their homes, they whispered their prayers, hoping Lord Asmodeus was still present enough in Talingarde to listen. Listen he did. Asmodeus declared to his followers that the day would come when he would return to Talingarde in force. It would not be that day, nor the next, but the time would come for Asmodeans to begin moving against the Mitran church in earnest. The faithful were to be sent a sign by which they would know when to act, but in the meantime, they were to hone their strength, to gather power so that when the day came, they could strike the Mitrans down. There were eight noble Asmodean families in Keshkevar, and eight heard the pronouncement. They decided to form a secret cabal, to hone their powers and train together in anticipation of the Sign. They favoured the shadowy arts, of course - secrecy was paramount and they had to be able to operate without bringing the myriad blades of the Mitrans down on their necks. Some families turned to arcane study, others to monastic traditions and the art of assassination. For the Delacrie family of Milatum, sorcerous power already ran in their blood. The family had kept an ancient shadow giant's blade as an heirloom for generations, a trophy from a distant ancestor's adventure. Over time, proximity to the blade had infused the family's souls with shadow, granting them sorcerous power. With this head start on the other families, the Delacries quickly came to lead the little cabal, guiding them in training and worship. Years passed, generations were born and died, and the Sign did not come. The cabal prayed, trained and sacrificed, and the Sign did not come. Some began to question whether it would ever come. Some began to lose faith. The eight families dwindled to six. Those who wavered, those who it seemed were at risk of abandoning Asmodeus, were dealt with swiftly and violently before they could betray the cabal. Meanwhile, the families who remained grew more insular. The cabal still corresponded, but they met less and less frequently as each family's traditions solidified and tensions flared over the direction the cabal should take. Then, two months before the present, a furor erupted among the cabal. Frantic letters were sent back and forth between families, describing visions and premonitions that the Sign would soon be upon them. Asmodeus had spoken to them, whispered promises of the Sign for the first time since he had first foretold it. It seemed the time for action was nearing at last. A meeting was called, the first in over a year. Naturally, the current Lord and Lady Delacrie, Arino Garré and Fadise Aneni, hosted and led the proceedings along with their daughter Niashé Minai. The families quickly agreed that while their experiences differed slightly, they all experienced essentially the same premonitions on the same nights. Their premonitions must have been genuine. The Sign would come soon. For the first time in a long time, the cabal's meeting turned joyous. The Sign had left their parents, their grandparents waiting, but now - now the time was near! The measured discussion erupted into a night of revelry, tensions between the families temporarily forgotten as all celebrated the imminence of their Lord. Niashé felt particularly blessed. The cabal had decided some time ago that in the event of the Sign, the lords and ladies would take care of the plotting and scheming, and the scions would be the ones relied upon to actually carry out the most important tasks. To actually be able to orchestrate Asmodeus's return with her own hand when generations before her had been denied that privilege would literally be the fulfillment of her wildest dreams. She drank and danced the night away, retired to bed with one of the other scions, and awoke strong with purpose. Two nights later, still all gathered at the Delacrie manor, the cabalites had another vision. The Sign would come in a week's time. When they awoke in the morning, they hurried to the table, eager to start discussing plans. Despite their enthusiasm, though, and despite the last two days' unity, tensions once again began to flare. It wasn't that the cabal hadn't thought ahead to what they'd actually do when the Sign came. It was that the cabal had thought up so many schemes over the generations that none could now agree on which to enact first. The argument went on for some time, proposal met with heated counter-proposal, until Niashé put her own idea on the table. It wasn't big, necessarily, but it was an idea she'd always liked, and she figured it'd be fairly uncontroversial. The atmosphere of the room seemed like it needed a crowd-pleaser. "How about this." She spoke with her usual easy confidence, hands casually folded on the table in front of her. "Let's put aside for a moment what we're going to do once the Sign comes. I have an idea for before it comes. We don't know what form the Sign is going to take. It may be apparent to all, but it will likely only be apparent to us, to we who have been so faithful throughout the generations. I propose we clarify the Sign for the rest of the world to see. Surely, there are other scattered Asmodeans lurking in the shadows. Others, as well, may be willing to join in the worship of our Lord. A public display would alert them, prepare them for what's coming. Likewise, it would throw the Mitrans off-balance. It would disturb them, but it would not be enough to let them guess at the extent of our intentions. I propose we all go home to our respective cities today. Then, tomorrow night, one hour after midnight, we act. We go to our city's cathedral, and paint - in sacrificial blood - our Lord's symbol across the grand doors. We then break in and start destroying everything. Smash holy relics. Set fire to the place. The next day, we travel back here. Word will travel quickly enough that we'll soon see how the Mitrans are prepared to react. We'll see if any of our people are prepared to react as well. By the time we've met here again, we'll have much more information with which to make an informed decision." The cabalites liked her proposal. All agreed to carry it out immediately. Meanwhile, as the others traveled, Niashé and her parents prepared a disguise for her to carry out her act. This was bolder, more public than anything the cabal had done before, and the Delacries were always given to caution. While they trusted in Niashé's skill to carry out the task without being discovered, they felt it best to create a false identity just in case. She had to look common, unremarkable. Her shocking white hair was dyed black, she rolled around in the dust outside and went the night without grooming or bathing, and makeup was skillfully applied to alter her features enough to avoid recognition. Thus, she went out at the prescribed time and carried out her deed. Everything seemed to be going as planned until, just as she was about to leave, a trio of guards burst into the cathedral to catch her standing alone in front of the growing conflagration. She tried to flee, but at the back door, more guards blocked her way. She was captured. She held firm throughout a long interrogation session, but in the end, it proved to be too much. She cracked. She told them everything. She was Rêve Nandore, leader of an underground criminal ring, and they wanted to strike fear into the heart of the Mitran church. "And we have," she spat, regaining her defiance. "We have defiled every major cathedral in Keshkevar! But don't take it from me, you'll hear it again as fast as news travels." They sent her off to Branderscar. quote:Though a few of you have mentioned it, describe for me in a paragraph or so your character's justification as to why they got caught. Obviously they themselves are not to blame, so who is? Name names. Give me some faces, some people that need to be paid against. And if possible, give a hint of what failings of your character were truly at fault. "If it was him, I will kill him. I might show mercy to family, but the other cabalists? I will not be crossed by them." quote:What is your role in the new world order after the victory of Asmodeus? Do not hold back. Every terrible imagining of what is possible after the complete and utter victory of evil, what do you do? What is the glorious epilogue you feel you deserve, the role you will play under diabolic tyranny? artist credit: witchtrix; M-Jenai; Alexandra Semushina; megi-sama Wol fucked around with this message at 06:01 on Jun 16, 2018 |
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May 30, 2018 14:09
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Tricky Dick Nixon posted:What is your role in the new world order after the victory of Asmodeus? Do not hold back. Every terrible imagining of what is possible after the complete and utter victory of evil, what do you do? What is the glorious epilogue you feel you deserve, the role you will play under diabolic tyranny? "Do I even need to say it? I will rule, as the new Queen of the Underworld, and punish all those who wronged me, including my own mater. Especially her. I will make them beg like the worthless dogs they are under my heel, and make them wish for the sweet release of death, but I will deny them, as they have denied me. Death is a kindness, and it is not a kindness I am willing to extend to them, and once I have made them suffer for their transgressions against their queen will I begin to expand my empire, obtaining far more power than my mother ever did, and, unlike her, who prefers to do all work from the shadows, I will make my presence known to all. I will be known as their new queen, and they will all bow to me, unless they wish to suffer the queen's wrath." quote:Though a few of you have mentioned it, describe for me in a paragraph or so your character's justification as to why they got caught. Obviously they themselves are not to blame, so who is? Name names. Give me some faces, some people that need to be paid against. And if possible, give a hint of what failings of your character were truly at fault. "It's all because of my cursed mother. It's all her fault that this all happened. She drove me to do what I did. Ten years. I played the part of the good daughter for ten years. I did all that she asked of me, I never once argued with her, I was always obedient, and I spent everyday practicing to control my magic, like she taught me to, and yet, none of that was enough for her. Even after everything I've done for her, she still treats me like a child. Can't she see that I'm ready to succeed her?" "But she isn't the only one to blame. There is another, a human scholar, and someone who I once considered to be my own friend, named Hendrick. I've known Hendrick since I was a child, and he was someone I thought I could once trust, but I was wrong. I told Hendrick about my plans, and he was the one, after much convincing, who helped me set up the ritual, but Hendrick ended up betraying me. He told my mother about my plans, and it was because of him that everything I planned for fell apart. "I'm sorry," he said to me, as I was being dragged away in chains, "I couldn't let you go through with this. I'm so, so sorry Azura." Unfortunately, no amount of apologizing will ever undo what he has done. I looked at him, with eyes burning with pure hate and let him know, when I find a way out, he will be the first to suffer. I will make him regret the day he decided to betray me." quote:Azura: I'm a bit conflicted about the Queen of the Underworld angle. It falls into a similar issue with a couple of other backgrounds is that there really isn't much way for organized crime to get a foothold. That isn't to say there is no way, just that it requires a little more creativity: Most criminal syndicates if they exist at all are little more than brigands and ruffians. A larger operation led by someone of high society would likely want to be coastal and doing some major contraband to be really profitable, like exporting slaves or something that is extremely risky for a noble to be doing. So maybe touch on why Ophelia takes that risk, because it could result in her and her entire noble line being disinherited. The second thing that sticks out to me is that the Wild Magic heritage doesn't get spotlighted in your history. Sorcerers are traditionally born, not made, and it reads as if Azura's power comes from the ritual, which sounds more like a Warlock. As we've discussed, Azura is a bit delusional, and she actually has an inflated sense of how powerful her mother actually is. In reality, the type of 'criminal activities' Ophelia involves herself with are relatively small, and are handled indirectly, through proxies and other means. Her, and a few other nobles, are loosely connected to a few minor smuggling rings, and use those as a way to line their own pockets with a few more gold. Ophelia herself is also very careful and deliberate with her actions, making sure to never involve herself in anything that could potentially link back to her. Azura's mother cares more about money, and retaining her own status, then she does about obtaining more power. But Azura doesn't see it that way. To Azura, her mother is a powerful crime lord who secretly runs a powerful underground crime syndicate, because she has to be, right? How else would her mother hold so much power over the other noble houses? She has to be controlling things from the shadows, that's the only way! Azura has an idolized version of her mother in her head, of a women with an immense amount of power, who crushes all who stand in the way of her ambitions, and it is that image of her mother that Azura almost worships, she thought of her mother as a Queen, and, unbeknownst to her, some of the things she believes about her mother start coming somewhat true, mostly because of her Wild Magic. Azura's always been able to cast spells without the use of magical aid, but her magic is a bit chaotic, and unpredictable, sometimes coming with unintended side effects, like growing a long beard made of feathers, and her powers, on rare occasions, can slightly manipulate the reality around her. It isn't enough for her to just believe something is true. She has to believe it to the very core of her being, and it is that strong belief, in combination with her somewhat chaotic powers, that made some of the thoughts she had about her mother become reality. Suddenly, her mother became the secret leader of some of these smuggling rings, though she's still careful not to have anything trace back to her, and Azura heard whispering about a "Queen of the Underworld" from the people around her, and obviously they have to be talking about her mother. Who else could it be that would be powerful enough to hold the title of Queen? Like I said, a lot of it comes down to Azura being delusional, and her powers inadvertently making a few of those delusions true, and one of the things I forgot to touch on in my backstory for her is that Ophelia actually genuinely cares about Azura, and she actually wanted to help her control her wild powers, but Azura doesn't see it that way. In her head, she thinks her mother was stopping her from reaching her true potential, and she's come to despise the woman who raised her because of that.
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May 30, 2018 17:44
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Just on the subject of organized crime (insofar as it relates to my application, but also Tardzilla's and a few of the other ne'er-do-wells), I think the thing that can be explored here is largely that your Talingarde has open ports, and isn't a closed nation. Gebroan is obviously the weak link in the chain, and exploiting dwarven greed to smuggle things (and people) in and out of the country seems entirely viable. Basically, although the nation itself may well be run in a lawful good manner, you have a whole world of normal people who want to take advantage of the entire nation of 'Good is Stupid' people, and there's no reason they wouldn't constantly be trying. Whether that seeps in through commerce with foreign nations or literally bubbles up from underground (or both) just helps to emphasize what a tantalizing pinata Talingarde is from the perspective of more self-interested nations and cultures. Everyone is angling for a way in because it's untapped oil. The other interesting part here is that, everything is relative. In 2018 we're desensitized to terrorism and horrible poo poo because of how information spreads and what's actually going on in the world, but if Talingarde morals and lived experiences are fundamentally narrower, what qualifies as an 'organized crime racket that is terrifying in its scope and power' is very likely to be something we would look at and say, "oh, yeah, uh ...that's not surprising at all." From my perspective this ties pretty well into both the 'Good is stupid' and 'Land of opportunity' tenets of the setting, and in general it allows for them to over-react to things that absolutely had dangerously evil intent but which would still pale in comparison to what we as people in 2018 think of as organized crime. Basically when you start the dial at literally zero in terms of how terrible people are, even if you're only dialed up to 1 or 2 you're a monster.
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May 30, 2018 18:02
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Tricky Dick Nixon posted:What is your role in the new world order after the victory of Asmodeus? Do not hold back. Every terrible imagining of what is possible after the complete and utter victory of evil, what do you do? What is the glorious epilogue you feel you deserve, the role you will play under diabolic tyranny? Money's a universal value. Whoever's in charge, you're gonna have an economic infrastructure, and you're gonna need someone to oversee it. That's what I want: complete control of the financial flow of the world. Money is lifeblood. Everyone needs it. When you hold the purse strings of the nation, you've got it by the balls. The king can say whatever he likes; if he can't pay the people responsible for maintaining power, nothing happens. Only an idiot would want to be king. Kings get killed. They get blamed for everything. Everything's your fault, always. But the treasurer survives, assuming he knows how to play the game, and no matter who's in charge, everybody wants you on their side. "Thanks for crunching the numbers Glenn. Never was any good at math. I don't know what I'd do without you." Nothing. You'd do nothing. You're welcome, by the way. I'm a businessman, an opportunist. Even the gods need financial planners. And when I'm not busy keeping the books, I'll retire to my own castle by the coastline, brimming with gold and jewels and priceless works of art, waited on by an army of servants. When everyone needs you, everyone loves you. When you make things happen, that's true power - even when someone else is in charge. Even the emperor kneels to the accountant. Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Though a few of you have mentioned it, describe for me in a paragraph or so your character's justification as to why they got caught. Obviously they themselves are not to blame, so who is? Name names. Give me some faces, some people that need to be paid against. And if possible, give a hint of what failings of your character were truly at fault. Regal Cavendish. Tall fella, dusky, knowledgeable. Knew a bit of magic, I suspect. Had his fingers on the political pulse of the continent. We'd met a few times through various channels. I said the market was ripe for war. He agreed. He had access to information no one else did. Knew when the diplomats were coming, where they were staying. Like me, he appreciated the joys of delegation. Unlike me, he declined to see things through to the end. Hedge-bettin' spook. Shanks Joungarm. Weather-beaten, wily, dependable wildcard. The best alchemist you never heard of, though you've probably come across his product. Had a thing for explosives. I prefer discretion myself, but a bang was required. But the bang came too soon, and I'm the one who got caught in the ashes. Premature primadonna. Velvet Lily. Compact, quick, and stylish. Good with her hands, known her for years. Ain't nobody better for resolving issues of acquisition, solving problems - human problems - with an air of finality. Had to plant the evidence, tie up loose ends. She didn't, and now I'm rotting in here. Fickle bitch. Still don't know whether they were all in on it together or not, or just messed up separately. Doesn't matter. In this business you're either an asset or a liability, and they all just got downgraded. Time to liquefy my resources and start again fresh. Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Glenn: It's refreshing to get someone who's only in it for the money. It's a good launching point, and might providing a grounding force, but I'm curious: What do you think would lead this character to be willing to drat a nation to rule by devils? What is it about wealth that really motivates him? He seems to come from wealth already. The mentioned Scrooge built himself up from scratch, and that is one of his endearing points. Your character started from privilege and wants for more; why do you think that is? I won't deny I grew up with a certain level of comfort, but don't mistake me for one of those bumbling dandies who only leach off their family's success. Everything my grandfather had, he earned, and everything my old man was given, he built upon. All of us were expected to do likewise, and I did my friend. I did. The dark circles under my eyes are proof of my hard work - the sleepless nights I've had to endure, ensuring our interests stayed afloat. I've never let luxury dull my senses. Business before pleasure, always and forever. I don't rest, I can't eat, till I've balanced the books. Those who don't work don't eat. So it goes. Earned wealth is a measure of worth. A rich playboy who can only spend his father's wealth is even more worthless than the bum who has nothing. It never bothered me, working with criminals. It's a merit-based industry. I'll take the company of the backwoods smuggler over the foppish spendthrift any day of the week. War was more than good for business, the market wanted war. A good war gets people feeling patriotic, gives them somewhere to direct their frustrations. Society thrives when you share a common enemy. Some will die, sure, but the survivors? They're heroes. And if I'd lost because the economic conditions were unfavorable, I'd accept it. But that's not what happened. I was sabotaged, betrayed. So now I'm trading up in my assets. I'm starting from zero, so everything's profit. Devils are just another breed of businessmen. This isn't a cult, it's a fruitful business arrangement. Bad Seafood fucked around with this message at 13:30 on May 31, 2018 |
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May 30, 2018 18:15
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Waador posted:Just on the subject of organized crime (insofar as it relates to my application, but also Tardzilla's and a few of the other ne'er-do-wells), I think the thing that can be explored here is largely that your Talingarde has open ports, and isn't a closed nation. Gebroan is obviously the weak link in the chain, and exploiting dwarven greed to smuggle things (and people) in and out of the country seems entirely viable. Basically, although the nation itself may well be run in a lawful good manner, you have a whole world of normal people who want to take advantage of the entire nation of 'Good is Stupid' people, and there's no reason they wouldn't constantly be trying. Whether that seeps in through commerce with foreign nations or literally bubbles up from underground (or both) just helps to emphasize what a tantalizing pinata Talingarde is from the perspective of more self-interested nations and cultures. Everyone is angling for a way in because it's untapped oil. That's all more or less true. A lot of what I'm poking at and interested in having details is specifics, because I think when conceptualizing it we tend to think of the standard view of a thieves' guild, or most recently with 5E the Zhentarim getting a big spotlight, and something like that is a bit out of the question, but there is definitely criminal networks and even organized syndicates in Talingarde, they are just very high risk ventures wherein even, as you say, more minor crimes seem a much bigger deal than what we would expect. Even a pickpocketing ring of urchins under some Fagin figure would probably elicit a similar shock as a Cosa Nostra outfit would for us.
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May 30, 2018 18:26
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Tobas Salvat, Lord Akravar Name: Tobas Salvat Race: (Subrace) Human (Variant) Age: 50 Size: Category (Height) Medium (5'9") Class: (Level) Shadow Sorcerer (1) Alignment: Lawful Evil Background: Noble Branding: Witchcraft Languages: Common, Infernal, Elvish Hit Points: 9 Initiative: +1 AC: 11 Speed: 30 Passive Perception: 10 Passive Investigation: 10 Passive Insight: 10 Attributes (Modifier/Saving Throw) Strength: 8 (-1/-1) Dexterity: 12(+1/+1) Constitution: 16 (+3/+5) Intelligence: 10 (0/0) Wisdom: 11 (0/0) Charisma: 19(+4/+6) Skills (Proficiency Bolded) Acrobatics +1 Animal Handling +0 Arcana +0 Athletics -1 Deception +6 History +2 Insight +0 Intimidation +6 Investigation +0 Medicine +0 Nature +0 Perception +0 Performance +4 Persuasion +6 Religion +2 Sleight of Hand +1 Stealth +1 Survival +0 Armor Proficiency: None Weapon Proficiency: Daggers, Darts, Slings, Quarterstaff, Light Crossbows Tools: Dice Set Features: Eyes of the Dark Strength of the Grave Feats: Elemental Adept (Fire) Inspiring Leader Spell Save DC: 14 Spell Attack Modifier: 6 Cantrips (4): Create Bonfire, Fire Bolt, Chill Touch, Minor Illusion Known/Prepared Spells (2): Sleep, Fog Cloud Spell Slots (2): Equipment: (Feel free to spend 200 GP on equipment to receive in the future.) Arcane Focus: Crystal (10 gp) Quarterstaff (2 sp) 2 Daggers (4gp) Light Crossbow (25 gp) 100 Bolts in 5 cases (10 gp) Clothes, Fine (15 gp) Clothes, Travellers (2 gp) Explorer's Pack (10 gp) Background: Traits: I feel born to rule and want to be listened to. I don't give my word easily, but when I do, I keep it and expect others to Ideal: The strong deserve to rule, the weak to serve Bond: Asmodeus is my God, and the God of my ancestors. I honor them by honoring him Flaw: I do not suffer betrayal lightly. If someone wrongs me, I shall have my revenge. Now, in the end, I suppose, it is time to make a clean break of it. There is no more room for dissimulation, and I go to my fate desiring to give a testimony of my faith, for soon I will be outside your laws and punishments, with no one to judge me but the Father Below, and his judgements are just and terrible. My family is old in this land, and in my blood is the heritage of heroes, great men and women who tamed and ruled this land. My ancestors were the Priest-Kings of Akravar, and when the Dominion unified the land, confirmed the rule of my family over the city, under their suzeranity, a rare honor, for under the Dominion, few humans enjoyed positions of authority, and while we lost our religious role, our position in the secular nobility remained intact. I give you this history not merely to boast of my family, although, in truth, I have much to boast of, but also so that you can understand me and what motivates me to my so called "crimes ". We were ever faithful, ever blessed by the Father Below. Indeed, our blood calls out his praises. I remember well when I learned the truth from my father. I was 15. My parents were, on the surface, at least, devout worshipers of Mithra. What a surprise to me then when my father took me into the cellars and explained to me the truth. He explained the family history; how we had been, from the beginning the kings of the city and faithful priests of the Lord of Iron. He explained that the first Priest King had been the son of both one of the mortal servants of the Prince of All and one of His infernal servants, and that our blood gave us powers arcane we could draw on with will. But he warned me that with such gifts came responsibility. There were a small group of nobles in the city who still were loyal, and it was my father's task, and would someday be my task, to minister to them, guide them and chastise them if needed. I do not deny that I had doubts at first. I was young, and had been corrupted by the society around me, and thought the Prince of Law a wicked being, and that only through worship of Mitra I might find salvation. That was my naivete, in my youth. Back then, I had thought that mercy was a gift that I might bestow and enjoy unearned, and that those with power had a moral duty to help those around them, regardless of cost or desert. What a foolish child I was then! At any rate, my father made it clear that there was no room for blind idealism, and harsh though the lesson was at the time, he has been proven right. That is your weakness, oh slaves of Mithra. You take no joy in power. You are willing to condemn to death those who break your laws; this I know too well, but you do so somberly, with regret. Do you never once, deep in your hearts, thrill to know that a man's life is in your hands, and that you have the power to save or condemn him? Can you say that you do not take secret satisfaction in his pitiful pleas for mercy? You boast that, in the kingdom, no man or woman need beg, and that your priests will feed anyone who needs it. You must know in your hearts that this is nonsense. Why should someone try to succeed if there is no punishment for failure? What is the joy in wealth if is it not to enjoy what the poor do not have? If you must feed the poor, then feed them. I have no serious objection. Hungry people can't work, after all, but admit you do it for your own good. And if you must be altruistic, if you must feed the poor and such, then do so selectively and with judgement! Why waste food on those who can't work, those who can't benefit the state? Why waste money on those who are poor through their own bad choices, who deserve their poverty? You claim that your god Mithra is the god of Justice, but I serve the true God of Justice, who knows that the strong rule because they can, and it is the duty of the weak to serve, and who knows that "compassion" and "mercy" are traps put before us. I will not waste time on my arrest, save to say that I served as minister for my flock for thirty five years before you caught me, oh great Inquisitors, noble Witchfinders. How brave you are, swooping down with your armed goons to arrest harmless worshipers. You have the entire "coven" as you put it; Lord Aylesborough, Lady Fonrit and her son, Sir Hassam, Mr. and Mrs. Khatrim. You have us all. I won't bother to ask how you found us. I know. One of my group was a traitor, and informant? Had you promised them leniency? Were they working with you all along? I won't ask who it is, but the rest of us are to die, and no doubt that the traitor will be rewarded. I hope he or she chokes on it. You have sentenced me to die, and if I die, I will have deserved it. Not for breaking your laws, but for failing my Master. Your laws mean nothing to me. But my Master may yet save me. He can be merciful to his servants, especially if he still has use for them, or he may let me die. I know these two things are true, though. My Master will get his revenge on whoever betrayed us. There is nothing, nothing he hates more than treason. And I know that, even if you kill me, you can't destroy the truth. My Master's will will be done. He will burn everything you love to the ground. He will overthrow the perversion that is Mithra, and his temples will ring again with the sound of bells, the chanting of worshipers, and the screams of sacrifices, and all will become new again, and we will laugh, and dance, and sing, liberated from your false morality. I only pray that the Master shows mercy on me and helps me to bring both these things about, and I will be rewarded with a share of the rule in the new land. Now I am done. Did you expect me to beg for the mercy that I know you will not grant? I am Lord Akravar! I carry within me the blood of ancient kings and infernal spirits, and I do not beg. Do your worst. Epicurius fucked around with this message at 03:15 on May 31, 2018 |
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May 30, 2018 23:57
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 pre:Name: Oliver Rumsey Race: Human Age: 19 Size: Medium (5'10") Class: Paladin 1 Alignment: How did it all go so wrong? Five weeks ago I was the golden child of Castlecliff, the heir of House Rumsey (a minor noble family in Castlecliff). Then I met her, Mara Qualanthri. An elven woman of forty years and, Mitra help me, the love of my life. We met by accident the first time and in secret the seven times after that. She is perfection, and I was sure she had played directly into my hands. And she is already promised to another. Isaac Darius himself, the eldest son of the King's oldest brother, Galwell Darius. Mara promised that she loved me, but there was no way our families would allow us to be wed. Isaac held a much higher station in the nobility than me since should his cousin, Anoushka, pass without issue he would likely be the first choice to take the throne, and Mara's family was desperate to rise up in Myrcian society. Her father, Rolen Qualanthril, was a powerful merchant in Carvorran, Draica and Rhadlun but he had set his sights South and Castlecliff was the best way in. Galwell Darius was convinced the marriage could be used as leverage to control the expansion of Rolen's business. And Isaac was almost as smitten with Mara as I was. There was no way talking would get us what we wanted. It was Mara who suggested the duel. I should have been suspicious, but my arrogance and overconfidence told me she was completely enamored with me. I told her the church forbids dueling, and that we should flee the city. Make our way East to Gorgeback and then head toward Lake Skarba. There were plenty of places there to disappear until everything boiled over. By the time we returned we'd be married and then our families would have no choice but to accept it. Mara seemed hesitant but eventually agreed and we formed a plan of escape. It had no chance of failure, I would have the woman I desired and her beauty and grace would not be wasted on a simpleton like Isaac Darius. Six days ago I came to retrieve her from our agreed upon meeting place. It was only an hour after sunset. I had no idea I was walking into a trap. Isaac and his two retainers, Simon Papley and Allen Gifford, were waiting for me. Isaac sneered when I told him nothing could come between Mara and me. He called me a fool and an imbecile and said I had been misled, that Mara didn't love me. I spat on the ground and demanded he step aside or face the consequences. I was hoping he would draw his sword, to tell the truth. I never cared for the man and the chance to cause him injury was too good to pass up. The fight ended quickly. Isaac had always lacked a certain skill when it came to sparring, and I bloodied him easily. Simon and Allen presented more of a challenge, taking two men on at once is never an easy task. I sustained an injury to my left leg that will cause me pain most likely for the rest of my short life, but I was victorious in the end. The three of them lay on the ground before me, and I was not sure if they were even still alive. I didn't care, nothing would keep me from my love. Nothing but the sixteen royal guardsmen who quickly surrounded me. I was disarmed, bound, and had a sack thrown over my head. From there I was taken to a small room in one of the royal towers and told to wait until it was decided what would be done with me. I was not worried. I should have been. My father came to see me some time later. He was livid, screaming obscenities and denouncing me as his son. I asked him if I could see mother and he told me she had fainted when she heard the news. He then became very grave and told me I was to be presented to the king for judgment. When I entered the throne room my hands were bound behind my back and I had an escort of four guardsmen. The king looked down upon me from his throne. His face read concern and almost weariness, which made me worry. My feeling changed when I saw who was standing beside him. Galwell Darius, the father of the man I had nearly killed. I had never known fear in my life until my eyes met his. There was no warmth in his expression, nothing but steel and a barely restrained fury. I kneeled and awaited the king's command to speak, to present my defense. It never came. He told me that Isaac still lived, along with his two men, but there was permanent injury and disfigurement to all three. He told me that my crimes were serious and the punishment had to match. I had caused serious injury to a potential heir to the throne along with two other members of the nobility. He felt that nothing but a renouncement of my title and exile to Palladia would suffice. Then his brother spoke. "This arrogant boy attempted to steal my son's betrothed and then engineered a way to attempt to kill Isaac, and you would let him walk away alive? How long have I faithfully served you as your closest adviser? How long have I stood beside you in all things? Brother, this one time I must ask this of you. Charge this boy with Treason, and see to it that he never has a chance to finish the butchery he committed upon your nephew, my son. What if he should grow bolder, my liege? What if he journeys to Palladia and spends a few years seething and plotting? What if he returns with an army great enough to assault our doors? He's already shown the ability to attack royalty, what would stop him from seeking greater injury to the throne? Think, brother, I beg of you!" After that speech, my father pleaded for mercy. He threw himself in front of the king and begged that I be exiled to Palladia, that he would send me away tonight. That my feet would never touch the soil of Talingarde again. That I would never even look towards Talingarde. King Markadian sat for a moment in thought, but I grew bored with it all. If I was to be branded a traitor for the simple act of wanting a woman I deserved more than his feeble nephew, then I would play the part. I had mulled for a year or more on this very topic. I was more capable and qualified than anyone in the royal family, so why shouldn't I make sure they knew it? I looked up at the king and his brother, put on my widest grin, and spoke. "You should listen to your brother, dear king. This was about more than some woman. I covet something far beyond anything she could have between her legs. I want the very seat you sit in. And I will have it, you old fool. Do you hear me? I will sit in that throne and I will step over your corpse to do it!" Galwell spat at me. The king stared down at me and, with a sigh of I assume utter disappointment, sentenced me to the one place I never expected to find myself: Branderscar Prison. The only mercy he gave me was four hours to wait in a cell while the journey was prepared. I was stripped of my name, my title, and my heraldry. For the rest of my miserable life I would be no better than a commoner. I was returned to my cell shortly before dawn. I sat on my bed of straw and began to think, and the more I thought the clearer it all became. It felt good to no longer hide the feelings of superiority I had been hiding for so long. I was better than all of these so-called royalty. But it was no accident that Isaac found me there. Someone had discovered my plan and told him. It still had not occurred to me that I had been betrayed by the one person I never expected, because I was truly the fool. She came to visit me only a few minutes before I was to begin my journey to Branderscar. Her eyes were completely dry, that should have been my first hint. I went to embrace her and she pushed me away. I asked her how everything had gone so wrong, and she laughed. "Wrong? Everything's gone exactly the way I hoped." She sneered as I fell to my knees. It had finally all clicked in my head, all the clues falling into place. I had been outwitted by the very woman I so desired. In that moment I hated her and loved her even more. She leaned towards me and continued, "Did you really think I would give up this life to run away with an idiot like you? So we could spend years in disgrace before you grew old and died? So I could lose everything I've worked so hard to gain, everything my family has worked to gain? How naive are you? You played your part perfectly, better than I ever could have dreamed. I hoped the two of you would kill each other, but this is even better! Now I can marry a cripple and secure my father's expansion. Maybe even be a Queen one day! And you get to die a worthless buffoon." I was too stunned to say or do anything. She touched my cheek and smiled as a tear rolled down my face. She wiped it away and stood up. "Goodbye Oliver, and Godspeed." Now I sit here in Branderscar, a disgraced noble among the worst criminals Talingarde has to offer. I will not go quietly. I will make my escape and I will have my revenge. Upon Mara, upon Isaac, Simon, Allen, Galwell, and upon King Markadian himself. Even upon Mitra, if it comes to that. Oliver Rumsey died in that cell in Castlecliff. I don't know who I am now, but I know what I am. A survivor and an agent of pure vengeance. Mitra help Talingarde, because nothing will stop me from having my revenge. Tricky Dick Nixon posted:What is your role in the new world order after the victory of Asmodeus? Do not hold back. Every terrible imagining of what is possible after the complete and utter victory of evil, what do you do? What is the glorious epilogue you feel you deserve, the role you will play under diabolic tyranny? I am a tool of vengeance and once I complete that goal I will do everything I can to rule what should rightfully be mine. I am the ruler this land needs, and if I have to serve Asmodeus to obtain that power then I do so willingly. Mr. Humalong fucked around with this message at 06:25 on May 31, 2018 |
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May 31, 2018 00:55
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Caterwaul dips his pen and sprawls his answers across a piece of parchment with deft precision. When satisfied, he rolls it up and gives it to you. The words are Common, though select words take on a different hand, as if practiced into unconscious motor memory.Tricky Dick Nixon posted:What is your role in the new world order after the victory of Asmodeus? Do not hold back. Every terrible imagining of what is possible after the complete and utter victory of evil, what do you do? What is the glorious epilogue you feel you deserve, the role you will play under diabolic tyranny? If Asmodeus is brought to power, it will require a form of law (as much as I loathe the word) to keep the dregs under control. I think my place would be as arbiter to his will, dealing punishment as fits the crime. In a perfect world, I would be the last word of judgment against dissidents and conspirators. I imagine I would attract an audience, make a show of it. Judge Raul Chipstone, the voice of Asmodeus... The idea that most sticks with me is equality -- in the sense that all are fighting with the same goals in mind. Under the rule of Asmodeus, I could see a world where none are born ahead of anyone else by virtue of blood. Everyone has to punch and claw for their creature comforts, as I have. When I can finally be myself, working for myself (along with my mother, and Asmodeus of course), and have no reason to disguise myself, then maybe I can relax and be happy. And I would find a quiet place for my mother to live off of the great wealth I'll accrue throughout our journey. She need not know how I came about it, only that I... "rescued" her from the fall of Mitra. Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Though a few of you have mentioned it, describe for me in a paragraph or so your character's justification as to why they got caught. Obviously they themselves are not to blame, so who is? Name names. Give me some faces, some people that need to be paid against. And if possible, give a hint of what failings of your character were truly at fault. The plot began when Bishop Shinn Carevet had me forcefully removed from the church under his jurisdiction. He despises my kind, and my ousting gave me justification. The whole ordeal was caused by his actions, beginning to end. I made myself as him and visited his nephew and charity case, Gantish. The young man was coincidentally having trouble paying his tab and was getting roughed up. His uncle's words (and coin) kept him from trouble, but he has a charming lack of gratitude. It was difficult getting calm speech from him, and that may have proved my downfall. A homeless gnome saw through my disguise as I retreated and demanded pay. If I had that 5 gold she grifted from me, I might have afforded better tools. Then she went and told the sculptor Boluf Indarta despite our deal, and he demanded that if I fleece the bishop he should receive the bust that dear Caravet forgot to pay for. I would have refused if not for his 100 gold. The day of the job, I made myself as Gantish and snuck into the bishop's home. All was going well, but the damned bust was trapped, enchanted to spray disorienting poison if shifted. In the confusion, Uncle Shinn burst in demanding answers. I produced some words of Gantish's, but it wasn't enough. Too many tones playing at once, you see. He leered too close, hit my beak, and then it was all over. Now I'm here, 108 gold in the hole, branded and left for dead. All because I couldn't get a head. Double May Care fucked around with this message at 05:20 on May 31, 2018 |
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May 31, 2018 03:30
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Tricky Dick Nixon posted:That's all more or less true. A lot of what I'm poking at and interested in having details is specifics, because I think when conceptualizing it we tend to think of the standard view of a thieves' guild, or most recently with 5E the Zhentarim getting a big spotlight, and something like that is a bit out of the question, but there is definitely criminal networks and even organized syndicates in Talingarde, they are just very high risk ventures wherein even, as you say, more minor crimes seem a much bigger deal than what we would expect. Even a pickpocketing ring of urchins under some Fagin figure would probably elicit a similar shock as a Cosa Nostra outfit would for us. Yeah, Rekkar controlled all of three blocks and it was enough for a celestial to put together a gaggle of photogenic stereotypes and put his thumb on the scale. Fascists!
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May 31, 2018 04:03
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Caterwaul: I love the little detail about the mother in your answers and the background. My feedback might be that with being as venal as it is, where do you think are the points that it could get a little grandiose? The kind of replacing people vibe is one that I do like, at least. Would there be anything beyond the business aspect that would appeal to Caterwaul about working underneath an Asmodean regime? Are there points of friction that might develop into interesting conflict? Fremen: This background is really well put together. A lot of my feedback is mechanical, actually. The first being is that dumping Constitution is a brave thing to do in 5e, though I don't think it always bad. Especially as time goes on it becomes less important, but it does mean that your character probably should absolutely never be on the front-line. It also seems appropriate that your character is sickly and weak for your motivations. Dark One's Blessing does a lot to make it hurt less, for what that is worth. Are you going Pact of the Tome, or Pact of the Chain? Either could work well in your case, though I'd recommend Chain. I would however recommending Burning Hands strongly over Witchbolt. You'd probably be focused as a Fiend warlock on blasting, and Eldritch Blast is more or less far superior than Witchbolt for single target damage. Finally, I would probably skip on War Caster and focus on not being in the thick of it, leveraging something like Elemental Adept (Fire) or Spell Sniper. I would also skip on Observant if you go Chain boon, if only because having a familiar usually gives you advantage on such rolls anyway. Prodigy would give you an additional skill, an additional tool proficiency, an additional language, and Expertise in a skill you currently have, and it matches with your character's background as a dilettante. Hriss: We talked over discord mainly but a point that I've been considering since is your character's tendency towards Lawfulness. Where do you think it comes from? Why do you think he's more drawn to the pack and such than other lizardfolk? I see you are thinking of having it being tied to a special heritage or the like. Maybe instead of hinted to be demonic, it's slightly devilish, the Tyrant Kings of old. Second thing is with his very high Int and Wis he's a non-standard barbarian type and I think that's interesting. Do you think there's anything he's learned and picked up that he claims maybe has a practical purpose but to others might seem sentimental or ornamental? Oliver Rumsey: The core of this concept is very strong. It's a classic story of revenge. But to connect it so closely to the King means being a little less free with the details. King Markadian is an exceedingly benevolent man. He would have frankly gone to great lengths to pardon you in this situation, just as I suggested his stance be for Excellence's backstory. He's the kind of virtuous paragon that inspires keep, abiding loyalty in people, and his true problem is that he truly believes in his own bullshit and that of Mitra. It would likely take a much more outward betrayal by Mara, portraying you as someone that defiled her with some compelling evidence for the same. The other issue though is that it's a big plot point that Markadian only has one child and heir, his daughter Anoushka, so Isaac is likely a member of a cadet branch, a nephew of the king that stands to inherit if the line is extinguished. This also makes it far more reasonable for Isaac to have been engaged to a merchant's daughter as well, because frankly the kingdom is not really in need of the money, so a second son of a cadet branch that may want to position itself for the throne makes a lot more sense in being "flexible." Lord Akravar: When you claim to be Lord Akravar, is that a claim to a position of principality over the entire town? The now local bishop would be prince, so is that a title that Tobas names himself due to what he perceives as his lineage, or is he like a powerless peer or noble whose title is merely ceremonial? What is the source of Tobas's power? It makes a mention of possible fiendish blood but can you be more specific and why it manifests in the way it does? It feels almost like he should be a priest of his dark god, why does it manifest more as sorcery? What special place does fire play for him that he is an Elemental Adept of it?
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May 31, 2018 05:00
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 Einderan von Valice The Storyteller He had admired her. Her beauty, her intensity - her ambition. All through the College of Bards, she was his only challenger, the only one who could possibly appreciate the clarity of his vision. She even rivaled it and - she could coax from him after much effort - exceeded him on one or two occasions. The good Dame Elora Dawraek, a young elf exploring the world before settling down for the long eternity of her existence. Most of the college assumed they were lovers, but they were fools who didn't comprehend the subtle dance of true artists. After graduation they traveled from court to court, stopping in the cities and towns. They dueled intensely with instruments, with songs and with stories. Some were retellings of old tales, some were recounting their own adventures and some were entirely new creations. Those they competed over most intensely, constructing elaborate plots and stories, weaving grand tales of heroes and villains, love and loss, straining each other to the limit of their talents and training. Then an idea came to him. A flash of inspiration that only someone of his caliber could possibly entertain. All of those nameless people, the extras in their grand play, they didn't matter. They weren't the real audience he was performing for. His performances were always for Elora, the only one who was worthy, the only one that mattered. And for her, nothing but the best would suffice. He could do so much better. She deserved so much better. It would be the grandest performance ever. But the greatest art requires the greatest canvas, and what better canvas is there than the world itself? A play like no other, with all the actors starring themselves. The setup took months, but the most difficult part was convincing Elora to stay in one place for that long without raising suspicion. There were two noble families in the city of Sailhaven of a peculiar nature. Rivals in business and politics, but at the same time friendly in other interactions. There were even talks about two young scions of the families marrying and uniting them into a powerful whole. Letters were being exchanged between them, at least, to see if the match was suitable. It wasn't hard to insert himself into the situation, delivering the messages back and forth. Slicing open the letters carefully, reading them. Boring drivel of course, but he had a quill and ink and the talent to fix that. He would make sure the two fell deeply in love, but that was only the first part of the plan. The next part took some investigating of the businesses, and then subtle manipulations of ledgers. A few mimicked voices down alleyways at convenient times. Crates going missing. Convincing the two families that the other was greedy, dishonorable and seeking to undermine the other. Friendly competition darkened into cutthroat business, and cordial relations deteriorated into outright feud. Street battles, a grand alliance of family connections making the city streets run red. All the while, two forlorn lovers try to fight against the will of their families, themselves becoming casualties in the growing firestorm. It was a bit cliche, but the details were spectacular. And there he was, observing from the shadows, conducting the action and directing the actors all the while composing a grand symphony inspired by the performances. He was relaxing in his private apartments, listening to the chaos below with a smile on his face when Elora came to him. He had finished his composition. The encore was ongoing below, but the performance was over. Now he would show her his greatest work, and he could barely contain his excitement to show her. That's when he noticed the letter in her hands. "You wrote this didn't you?" He narrowed his eyes at her tone, but nodded all the same. How had she known? The handwriting was a perfect imitation, and the only ones who could say otherwise were dead, "Yes, of course I did." "And the ledgers? The rumors? It was all you?" His scowl slowly morphed into a smile. Of course she had figured it out. Of course! She was his partner, the only one who could appreciate his art. Of course she would see the strings, it couldn't be helped, "Yes, yes you figured it out! Of course you did. Oh Elora I should not have thought so little of you to think I could make this a surprise." "Why? Why did you do this?" "For you! For us! We are artists you and I, a pair, partners! Those simpletons in the street, they don't understand, they don't deserve what we can produce. You are the only one that can understand me, and so I created the grandest performance using life itself as my canvas. My Magnum Opus..." he takes the tome he had just finished penning and set it on a table in front of her, sitting down with a smile. Calm as if he was asking her to proof read a new story, "So tell me what you think. The main plot is a bit unoriginal I'll admit, but I think it is a very strong first draft." Apparently that had been enough for the paladin waiting out in the hall. Some dullard named Cristoff from the court. Einderan was stunned, and didn't resist as guards came in and grabbed him, leading him away. He watched, eyes full of hurt, staring wordlessly at Elora as he was moved out of the room. As his room was being searched, Elora took the book he had worked so laboriously on. She opened it, flipped through the pages, face twisting into disgust. Then she threw it into the fire. That is when the struggles started, when he unleashed a stream of curses that made the paladin visibly wince and the guards cower momentarily. He almost got free, reaching to rip her traitorous, ungrateful throat out. Then a voice in his mind. The same voice that had inspired him to greatness in the first place, that flash of inspiration. Stronger this time. It was beautiful... That was a week ago now. They'd sentenced him for forgery of documents, the kingdom unable to truly come to terms with the strange nature of the crime committed. But he had been completely docile, even when the brand was pressed into his flesh. The whispers kept coming to him, and he liked what he heard. There was someone who understood, who appreciated the artistry he could give to the world. Someone worthy. Now he is sitting in a jail cell, staring at the bars. His legs are similarly held splayed. There is another shackle around his neck, holding him flat against the wall and a leather gag held a wad of cotton cloth deep in his mouth preventing any words. His right cheek and eye were swelling, turning dark with bruise the gag made all the more uncomfortable. The aches in his body were growing steadily worse, and sleep was difficult, but he wasn't unhappy. His first guard, the one that had beaten him so, was such a nice young man. Full of dreams of glory and winning the heart of the farmer's daughter down the road. Such a sweet story, so easy to read, so easy to believe. So boring. It was up to him, Einderan von Valice, the greatest bard of the generation to show the poor man the truth. So he started to sing, a song of the young love between a pretty farm girl and the plucky local hero that won her love. By being adventurous, brave, handsome and dashing. And definitely not a sad, lazy coward of a man standing at watch all day and all night with the greatest danger being an unarmed man chained to a wall on the other side of a solid oak door. No, the farmer's daughter would definitely fall for the other man - it had been trivial to figure out there was another, freer soul in this little triangle - and the lonely guard would go to his grave unloved and untouched. The guard had burst in after that and started beating him, yelling with anger loud enough to rouse some other guards that came in to drag their comrade off. He had started smirking then, and hadn't stopped since. quote:What is your role in the new world order after the victory of Asmodeus? I will be the court entertainer to the Grand Prince himself, composing tragedies, comedies - whatever will best please my lord. I will weave intricate plots over generations, organize great rebellions and their inevitable defeat. After all, eternity is such a long time. I would be remiss to leave my lord bored during it. Not after all he has done for me. quote:Though a few of you have mentioned it, describe for me in a paragraph or so your character's justification as to why they got caught. Obviously it was Elora's fault. She didn't understand, could comprehend the art that I had so meticulously crafted for her. The greatest bard in the world toiling to create something never before seen, something too grand to be confined to paper or song, and she had burned it. The bitch was never my equal, never even close. She was just playing the entire time, pretending to understand and maybe he had pitied her. She didn't deserve his art. None of them did. pre:Name: Einderan von Valice Race: Human (Variant) Age: 27 Size: Medium (Height) Class: Bard (1) Alignment: Lawful Evil Background: Charlatan Branding: Forgery Languages: Common, Abyssal Hit Points: 9 Initiative: +3 AC: 13 Speed: 30ft Passive Perception: 14 Passive Investigation: 11 Passive Insight: 14 Attributes (Modifier/Saving Throw) Strength: 8 (-1/-1) Dexterity: 16 (3/5) Constitution: 12 (1/1) Intelligence: 12 (1/1) Wisdom: 14 (2/2) Charisma: 20 (5/7) Skills (Proficiency Bolded) Acrobatics (+3) Animal Handling (+2) Arcana (+1) Athletics (-1) Deception (+7) History (+1) Insight (+4) Intimidation (+5) Investigation (+1) Medicine (+2) Nature (+1) Perception (+2) Performance (+7) Persuasion (+7) Religion (+1) Sleight of Hand (+5) Stealth (+5) Survival (+2) Armor Proficiency: Light Weapon Proficiency: Simple weapons, hand crossbows, longswords, rapiers, shortswords Tools: Disguise Kit Forgery Kit Instruments: Drum Flute Viol Features: -Any forgeries you make using any tool proficiencies (thus including works of art as well as documents) are considered "perfect" and are not detectable by mundane means, as you are not liable to make the same mistakes as before. However, magic can still reveal your treachery. -You have advantage on Charisma (Deception) and Charisma (Performance) checks when trying to pass yourself off as a different person. -You can mimic the speech of another person or the sounds made by other creatures. You must have heard the person speaking, or heard the creature make the sound, for at least 1 minute. A successful Wisdom (Insight) check contested by your Charisma (Deception) check allows a listener to determine that the effect is faked. Feats: Actor Mage Initiate (Warlock) Spell Save DC: 15 Spell Attack Modifier: +7 Cantrips: Eldritch Blast Minor Illusion Prestidigitation Vicious Mockery Known/Prepared Spells: Level 1 - Dissonant Whispers Healing Word Spell Slots: First Level [ ] [ ] Hex [ ] Equipment: Explorers Pack (10gp) Viol (30gp) Rapier (25gp) Studded Leather Armor (45gp) Forgery Kit (15gp) Disguise Kit (25gp) Fine Clothes (15gp) Component Pouch (25gp) Flute (2gp) Background: Charlatan Traits: I have a lesson for every situation, drawn from observing people. My eloquent flattery makes everyone I talk to feel like the most wonderful and important person in the world. Ideal: Beauty. What is beautiful points us beyond itself toward what is true. Destiny. Nothing and no one can steer me away from my higher calling. Bond: I created a great work for someone, and then found them unworthy to receive it. I may have found someone else though... My loyalty to my sovereign is unwavering. Flaw: Unlocking an ancient mystery is worth the price of a civilization. My pride will probably lead to my destruction. Characteristics: 5#1d10+7 13 12 16 12 10 professor_curly fucked around with this message at 08:03 on May 31, 2018 |
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May 31, 2018 07:54
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Niashe: Which city did the first attempted desecration settle on? Was it your hometown, or one of the other cities? The idea that you were imprisoned under a false name would take a bit more work, most likely as well. Without proficiency in disguise or the like, such a thin facade would likely be seen through by the time the magistrate arrived to ascertain the truth of what happened, but I'm not against the idea that they did not know your real name or heritage, only that they knew you were lying and were in disguise so there's possible an inquisitor now snooping around because of it. Einderan: What castle or city did this drama play out in? Of course Elora played the central role in your apprehension it would appear, but who else might have been touched by your attempt to make art of tragedy? Aurelian: You mentioned you'd stick with Devotion as an oath in your mechanics. How would your character reconcile those oaths with service to Asmodeus? Or does he have ones that are different than those outlined in the book?
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May 31, 2018 13:36
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Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Lord Akravar: When you claim to be Lord Akravar, is that a claim to a position of principality over the entire town? The now local bishop would be prince, so is that a title that Tobas names himself due to what he perceives as his lineage, or is he like a powerless peer or noble whose title is merely ceremonial? What is the source of Tobas's power? It makes a mention of possible fiendish blood but can you be more specific and why it manifests in the way it does? It feels almost like he should be a priest of his dark god, why does it manifest more as sorcery? What special place does fire play for him that he is an Elemental Adept of it? So, a short history of Akravar, basically, is that a long time ago, an assassin devil showed up in Keshkevar. Why he was there, I couldn't say. Maybe he was summoned by some wizard or cleric who wanted to kill an enemy, maybe he lucked on a portal to the Prime and figured he might as well come and cause some havoc. Anyway, while he was there, he managed to father a child with a human. That kid, while she was human, managed to inherit some of her devilish father's abilities, and, because sorcerous bloodlines were fairly rare in those days, especially among himans, managed to take charge over Akravar, where she was being worshiped as a goddess. This comes to Asmodeus's attention, eventually, and he comes to the founder of the family and says to her (in a vision/dream, obviously), "Look, you call yourself a goddess, but you're really just a pitiful mortal worm. You're the spawn of one of one of my servants, and not even a very powerful servant, and while you weak humans might be impressed by some of your little parlor magics, I am not. Now do I mind the fact that you've taken advantage of these gullible fools to set yourself over them? No. What I do mind, though, is that you're taking worshippers that by rights should be mine. So here is what's going to happen. You're going to renounce your claims of godhood. You're going to invite my Church into the city, and you're going to do what they say. If you want to continue your day to day rule over the city, fine. I don't have any particular interest over your tax policy or municipal fire code policies. In fact, if you want to, call yourself Chief Priestess of Asmodeus. I don't care. But you either cut out this god nonsense right now, or else I will show you what actual divine power is like." Work on the Temple of Asmodeus started the next day. When the Dominion came along, Akravar submitted to it without bloodshed, and the family stayed in power, although it was much diminished, pretty much just carrying out the will of the Domunion. Then, when the land was united under the worship of Mitra, the temple of Asmodeus was torn down, and the bishops of Mitra took over both temporal and spiritual rule. In terms of his title, if you go to France or Germany, for instance, you'll find a certain segment of the population calling themselves the Count of X and caring an awful lot about bloodlines, even though the countries are both republics and abolished their nobility? That's pretty much Lord Akravar. It's not that bad. It's a real title. And he's legitimarely Lord Akravar, but what that meant was that he was entitled to an unpaid seat on the Prince-Bishop's advisory council, he'd get a pig and a bag of groats every midsummer eve, and the right to sit at the head table at municipal feasts, next to the master of the guild of cornwainers. So, pretty much ceremonial. Why is Tobas not a cleric? There's no doubt he's devout (possibly ironically, the past couple of generations of the family have been among the more devout), and he serves a ministerial function among his cult, so why not a cleric? Part of it is just that that group is too small for Asmodeus to spend much time noticing. He appreciates the worship (well, more, "regards it as his due") , but he doesn't see the need to invest its leaders with his mantle. I'd assume that's not really unusual. There are clerics of Asmodeus out there , stirring up trouble and causing problems for the power that be, but that Asmodeus also has a bunch of small cultic circles, as sort of a force in being. He doesn't know what he wants to do with them right now, but someday, he might find them useful for something more than just worship. But for right now, he's not going to waste too many resources on them. His powers manifest as sorcery, because he has inside him an infernal bloodline that manifests itself sorcerously, and which makes him fell, wherher rightly or wrongly (mostly wrongly), that this family trait is a sign of divine favor. He's an elemental adept of fire because fire is symbolic of Asmodeus, both as the devouring flame that seeks to bring everything under its control and consume it to strengthen itself, as the purifying flame that burns away weakness, and as the punishing flame that chastises and torments the unworthy.
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May 31, 2018 14:00
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Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Fremen: This background is really well put together. A lot of my feedback is mechanical, actually. The first being is that dumping Constitution is a brave thing to do in 5e, though I don't think it always bad. Especially as time goes on it becomes less important, but it does mean that your character probably should absolutely never be on the front-line. It also seems appropriate that your character is sickly and weak for your motivations. Dark One's Blessing does a lot to make it hurt less, for what that is worth. Are you going Pact of the Tome, or Pact of the Chain? Either could work well in your case, though I'd recommend Chain. I would however recommending Burning Hands strongly over Witchbolt. You'd probably be focused as a Fiend warlock on blasting, and Eldritch Blast is more or less far superior than Witchbolt for single target damage. Finally, I would probably skip on War Caster and focus on not being in the thick of it, leveraging something like Elemental Adept (Fire) or Spell Sniper. I would also skip on Observant if you go Chain boon, if only because having a familiar usually gives you advantage on such rolls anyway. Prodigy would give you an additional skill, an additional tool proficiency, an additional language, and Expertise in a skill you currently have, and it matches with your character's background as a dilettante. Chain, definitely. The lack of constitution is annoying, but it felt appropriate. I figured getting that familiar to help out down the line would give me some more breathing room. And thank you for the feat/spell recommendations. I've gone with Spell Sniper to put me a bit farther away from the front line.
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May 31, 2018 16:22
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Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Einderan: What castle or city did this drama play out in? Of course Elora played the central role in your apprehension it would appear, but who else might have been touched by your attempt to make art of tragedy? Sailhaven is a bustling port town at the southern tip of Roak's Awe, named because it is the first port of call for ships sailing toward Castlecliff or the other Myrcian cities accessible from the Awe. It is a major shipbuilding and repair port, as well as a mercantile center for the area. It has several noble families, although it was primarily based on wealth rather than bloodline. An idyllic seashore city full of sailors, explorers, traders and free spirits that shone brightly like a pearl on the Farther Waters. At least it did, until a sudden burst of violence cast a pale over the normally cheerful city, adding a somber tone to its celebrations, festivals and carnivals. Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Einderan: Of course Elora played the central role in your apprehension it would appear, but who else might have been touched by your attempt to make art of tragedy? The first would be Paladin Cristoff, exemplar of Mitra and all things good and bright. A chiseled face, flowing hair that shimmered like gold, the perfect embodiment of the knight in shining armor. He is the head of the guard of Sailhaven, and also the first one to actually put suspicion on Einderan. He had poor omens about the young bard and connected the chaos to his presence almost immediately but had no evidence. It wasn't until Elora was shown the doctored letters that she believed her friend could be so insane and cruel, and finally gathered the confession needed to bring him down. For Einderan, the paladin is nothing but a worthless dullard and he would never even acknowledge the possibility that Cristoff of all people was the one who truly brought him to "justice." The other major player would be Lady Gwendolyn of house Vanicci. The mother of the daughter in the tragic love story, and also the sole person of power left of the two families when the bloodletting finally ended. In her own power she now holds effective control over the resources of both the former noble houses, and is filled with her own darkness. For now it is sitting dormant, buried underneath grief and the satisfaction that the man who had wrought such devastation upon her and her family was to be taken away to the cruelest of fates. But if word were to reach her ears that Einderan von Valice, the storyteller that tore her family apart was free, perhaps the darkness would rise to the surface and she would seek her own revenge.
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May 31, 2018 18:08
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Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Niashe: Which city did the first attempted desecration settle on? Was it your hometown, or one of the other cities? The idea that you were imprisoned under a false name would take a bit more work, most likely as well. Without proficiency in disguise or the like, such a thin facade would likely be seen through by the time the magistrate arrived to ascertain the truth of what happened, but I'm not against the idea that they did not know your real name or heritage, only that they knew you were lying and were in disguise so there's possible an inquisitor now snooping around because of it. Mine was in my hometown, though it wasn’t the “first” per se - they were all to happen simultaneously. Niashe assumes the others went off without a hitch, but having been stuck in prison, she doesn’t really know. Also I feel like the key to her disguise being effective here is the fact that her parents helped. They’re older, more practiced, at least one of them would be proficient. There may or may not still be an inspector snooping around, I just don’t want to start off the campaign with the family’s name in shambles. To the same end, her family has not tried to contact her at all (to the best of her knowledge) since she’s been arrested. Whatever they may think of her at the moment or whatever they may think of her chances, she assumes that’s simply out of logical self-preservation and doesn’t hold it against them.
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May 31, 2018 18:53
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Gonna see if I can whip up a Monk soon, condemned for having beaten a landlord he was indebted to with his bare hands. Who happened to have very important friends.
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May 31, 2018 23:01
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Manic_Misanthrope posted:Gonna see if I can whip up a Monk soon, condemned for having beaten a landlord he was indebted to with his bare hands. Who happened to have very important friends. You got like 30 minutes, how soon are we talking?
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May 31, 2018 23:30
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Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Hriss: We talked over discord mainly but a point that I've been considering since is your character's tendency towards Lawfulness. Where do you think it comes from? Why do you think he's more drawn to the pack and such than other lizardfolk? I see you are thinking of having it being tied to a special heritage or the like. Maybe instead of hinted to be demonic, it's slightly devilish, the Tyrant Kings of old. Second thing is with his very high Int and Wis he's a non-standard barbarian type and I think that's interesting. Do you think there's anything he's learned and picked up that he claims maybe has a practical purpose but to others might seem sentimental or ornamental? In regards to Hriss adopting a tendency towards lawfulness I see his early experiences influencing him. An example would be the difference between how we would handle threats at home in a lizardfolk community versus the wider world. In the village his being bigger, stronger, faster, and smarter would often have lead to him taking on or removing a threat directly. Another lizardman would have challenged him and he would have killed them and consumed him. That kind of activity is not something the civilized realms want happening. He would have learned fairly quickly that actions that were acceptable before had consequences. Captain Ortiz would have seen Hriss as a valuable asset to protect as he could. So he would begin to help Hriss adapt to his new life. Flashback... posted:Hriss: "Crewman Peg-leg Pete challenged me to combat. I do not understand why the crew stopped me from consuming him as was my right as the victor." As far as an intelligent barbarian goes I'm looking forward to it. They get lumped into the dumb and strong category a lot. And while that can be a very entertaining thing to play I feel like this is going to be more fulfilling. I've been thinking of a few characters and stories that would help me make Hriss' personality. One that came to mind was Teal'c from Stargate SG-1. Teal'c was played as a very literal character while being strong and intelligent. From a more criminal background I was thinking a bit of villains like Bane and Kingpin. They were both very strong fighters but it wasn't their biggest strength. Their biggest strength was their cunning and will to survive. quote:Hriss: I see you are thinking of having it being tied to a special heritage or the like. Maybe instead of hinted to be demonic, it's slightly devilish, the Tyrant Kings of old. I am happy you brought up lore like this. Having something like the Tyrant Kings whispering in his ear would be a good way to motivate Hriss onto bigger and bolder goals than a lizardman might initially have. Being noticed by higher powers and being molded into something they can use to further their goals is a nice hook. Maybe they see Hriss as a way to rally wayward tribes of lizardfolk into an effective nation or army. Maybe they just want him to whip up a big lizard waaaagh. How Hriss comes out of such things will be part of the adventure. Plus from what I've experienced the devils in dungeons and dragons seem much more interesting than the demons. The demons are flat out messy and chaotic. The devils have structure and nuance.
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Jun 1, 2018 00:59
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  "Once upon a time, about three days ago in fact, there was a peaceful and harmonious land known as Talingarde. It had been the battlefield of great heroes and terrible monsters once in those heady days of the Dark Age, but that had long since passed. In fact, it had become a bit boring, really. A decade had passed without even the inkling of war, and nearly a century since the ascension of the House of Darius to the throne of Myrcia, pre-eminent among its six realms. The Darian dynasty had secured the throne against usurpation, defeated an ancient evil wyrm, made peace with the dragonborn host, smashed the hobgoblin horde against the River Laggun, and secured from the Church of Mitra an imperial crown, to be installed as Lord Protector of this island of ours. A hundred more years were expected to pass without want or bloodshed, if only we all truly believed in the redemptive power of love to change the world around us." "It’s enough to make you sick."We are in a dark place under the earth, down a long corridor of numerous arches, with no light at all. As the storybook unfolds and the images play out, we see a floating shape approach us unlit, from which the narrator's craven voice comes. "Yes, Talingarde was the shining exemplar of the known world. Angels themselves were coming out to see the sights, mingle with the average Joes, an earthly paradise that took constant vigilance to maintain. See, not everyone was exactly on board with this whole vision. Things used to be different around here. Now, I’m not going to feed you some malarky about freedom. Frankly, there wasn’t much of that back in the bad ol’ days, but you know what you did have? Opportunity. Ambition, the will to seize it. Back when the old Prince of Hell was given the respect he thinks he deserves, and not everyone was worshiping some two-faced four-armed cat bird. It was a lot more fun, if you’re following me. Now, everyone’s just so... gormless. They are without gorm!" The skull ignites, like a torch coming alight, and bathes the corridor in its less than comforting glow. The flameskull reveals itself as the narrator, and continues on...  "It was time to wake up and hear the music. Somebody wanted things to work to a different tune, and he had some new friends in low places. Turns out that was the wagon I got hitched to when he dug up my soul from some corner of hell and put me back in… well, not a body, exactly, but it’ll do. But this isn’t my story. I’m just chewing fat while I can, I get paid more or less by the hour, advantage over salary. No, I’m supposed to be introducing you to the sorry lot that’s supposed to get things really hopping around here. You see, things line up to put nine complete sods, absolutely wicked little stirges, all together in one place. Now, it didn’t worry anybody at the time since it was basically in fantasy land Alcatraz, and nobody had ever escape from Branderscar. Nobody likes a tourist trap though, and that claim was about to be broken nine times over."and on... "Nine instruments of the Big Red Machine, all tripping over each other trying to find their own tune. But maybe with a little encouragement, we can get them back on tempo."and on... and just won't shut up, really. "Hit me, Maestro." The orchestra tunes, and so starts the melody.  “Ah, Branderscar. You’ve heard of it before, haven’t you boss? By now you’ll be intimately familiar, for what that’s worth. They even go to all the effort to make it a comfortable few days, but even warm porridge tastes like ash when you know what’s coming next. See, this whole thing is a rack. The branded and condemned here are to suffer for their crimes, in the vain hope their souls might be saved from the Hells, or worse, the yawning layers of the Abyss. These sickos have convinced themselves that they are doing you a service through your painful death. They hope every day you wake up and pray to the little crack of dawnlight in the window slit, because secretly they think they can save you, even if you are the worst of the worst.” “Joke’s on them, but then again, they aren’t on the chopping block, boss.”There’s the distant sound of blade meeting flesh, and a nice satisfying plop. “Well, anyway, let’s check the ledger here to see just what Mitra dragged in-Bel’s balls how the hell did they catch twenty-four of you godsdamned carbuncles?! What, was it a full moon or something for the previous seven months? Did Graz’zt have some kind of bender and leave a bunch of spawn as some kind of sick joke? This is a serious problem. This is too many.” “Uh. Let's just uh... Cut out half of this. Let me get out my lucky dime.”There's a jingling sound, and then somehow a metallic ting as a coin is flipped in the air and hits the ground, rolling around and landing where it reveals the serpentine coiled tail of Mammon. Half of the names erupt into flame and dissolve into smoke and dust flowing in the air, leaving nothing but scorch marks upon it. “Hm. Twelve’s a good number. Emphasis on the Good part. Always trying to one up nine. So screw twelves, and we said there was going to be nine to start with, right? There’s Nine Hells, boss, so I mean, it's just plain thematic. So, let’s just… Eeenie… Meenie… Miney mo!”Another plume, here and there, as three more names are consigned to oblivion, at least narratively. Baazlebul knows what plans there are for them yet. “That’s better. Still, only a maniac would try to wrangle this many villains at once, but that comes with the territory.” Each branding is displayed in sequence. Each forearm has the hot iron pressed deep against the skin, scarring against it. The iron is forged from the ore of a meteor, and is white hot, crackling almost with a holy energy as the priest stands by, praying in holy Celestial. It burns deeper than skin, scale, or fur, for each of our nine prisoners seen only in glimpses by their skins, dressed down in their prisoner’s garb like the simple vestments of a monk. “You know there’s something to be said about power trios. Take the first three here, these lovely ladies could do a lot of damage just on their own. I gotta admit, I’m burning up thinking about it. Let’s call them… Asmodeus’s Angels.”In shackles, a tall and elegant tiefling, though with austerely human features as much as her horns and tail, is taken out into the courtyard of Branderscar. The left sleeve of her roughspun clothing has been torn off to display her brand as she is sorted to stand against the wall, looking on. She’s proud of who she is, and what she’s done. “Now that’s a rock you can build a dominion on, if you don’t mind me saying. That's a summit I'd like to climb, if you're picking up what I'm putting down. Shame that there isn’t much going on upstairs, she could have really used some dorbel scheming in her ear. Desertion is really just a petty treason when you think about it, so lucky for her that she’ll get to finally see her Lord soon in Nessus.”The soldiers are lined up in a line, seven in all, with heavy crossbows at the ready. They are grim-faced in their task, and attended by the many-colored flamen that is there to comfort each, anointing each with a whisper and blessing. Having learned their lesson before about letting this one talk to the men, the tiefling is gagged for the ceremony before her execution, where all seven stare. “Ready.” At the command of their sergeant, they raise the crossbows and use the winch to wind it slowly back. One quakes, but is calmed as he whispers a prayer to the Morninglord, and has a beatific smile on his face finally. “Aim.” They raise their crossbows, each with one eye closed. They all have to watch it happen and commit to what they do, but they all share in it. Their fingers make for the trigger, in that final moment of tension. "Fire!" Twang.  “Let’s leave our pincushion for a second and consider maybe the second most obvious recruit, and equally in need of a old fashion vizier type.”We see in profile the weary face of an aristocratic Keshkevarine woman, her black curly hair white at the roots where the dye had not set and had been allowed to start to grow, hinting at what she vainly tried to hide from the inqusitors. She seems exhausted, the sun framing here as her body burns under its relentless gaze. There is the calling of a buzzard nearby, as sweat has dried against her skin along with tears of anguish at the sides of her eyes. There is no victory to relish here in this moment. "You wouldn't know it, but this is a real firecracker, an iconoclast of her generation. Riled up a bunch of spoiled malcontents waiting for the end of the world to get out there and make it happen themselves, and got strung up for her trouble. It's not a great way to go, crucifixion, but at least when she makes it to Stygia, where other despoilers of the sacred like her go, she'll get to cool off a bit in the nice, brackish lukewarm waters."Slung by leather straps and brass bands, she is hung up on a cross, her feet just barely on a slight piece of wood but her muscles by now torn and her arms broken, the pain unbearable as the exposure is likely to kill her, if not the thirst, within a few days. A slow, agonizing way to die, and the guards have spared her the mercy of being pierced in the side so that she will pass out from the blood loss and die sooner, as there is little love for a profane arsonist that would attempt to burn down the Church of Mitra. The buzzards are closing in.  "Well, the Styx beats baking to death in the sun anyway. Speaking of unbearably hot, what's that I smell?"A little smoke rises up from some kindling, being stoked and prepared. Bundles of wood are being stacked up and around a pole, to which an unnaturally pale woman with unusual gold eyes has been tied, wearing that simple roughspun as she twists under the tight ropes, screaming about this or that in her barbarian tongue, laughing and taunting as she goes, claiming that at any moment a vile creature will sweep down and save her, interspersed with the occasional groveling and begging for mercy as she is but a young girl that knows little of the world, much less witchcraft... "You get your champion, you get your priest, you gotta finish the set with a vizier. A sniveling little quisby that inevitably betrays anyone she can and is always grasping for more than she can deserve. These types just seem to naturally fit the whole infernal power structure. It helps she's got that arcane spark, and maybe she'll get to hone it, with other crazed lunatics like Mephistopheles down in my hometown of Cania."The smoking kindling is raised by a warrior nun with a perfectly serene expression, though there is an apologetic sort of look on her face, as she seems to want something different. The attempts at laughing and taunting are now all but gone, and even the groveling is now subsiding to tearful shouts, begging that is unbecoming of a champion of evil. As the fire begins to spread, and lick at her heals, then starts the screaming. It's a little pathetic, but then again, you're not the one burning at the stake.  "Woof. That about does it for our Angels. Let's just turn the knob in the complete opposite direction, and see what awful little creatures have been dredged up. Our own Monster Squad, let's call it, ready to take a bite out of the six realms. Especially our first beastie."In a cell deeper in the prison, a less furnished and well-kept than the others for certain, we find a myriad scaled and fierce lizard man who is chained up by his wrists, ankles, waist and neck, splayed out against t he wall with even his tail weighed down by irons. He has obviously made a nuisance of himself, and the guards, who soon arrive to unlock the cell and walk in to bring him to his appointed execution, move cautiously around him. "Sometimes you just want a monster. Something that can take all the punishment you can throw at it, an icon of terror that rallies all sorts of other vile creatures to its banner and example by the sheer weight of its power. Sometimes, though, you get one that has a bit of a mouth. Queen Tiamat has five, and all are likely to want a piece of him when he gets to Avernus."The lizardman enters in seemingly calm conversation, requesting that he be treated more properly like the others and mentioning that he has not received his last meal. The guards do their best to ignore this as a few armed with spears keep them at the ready, while two other make to unchain it. The lizardman is still, at first, with unblinking eyes, but moves like a lightning bolt to take a bite out of one of them. If he will not be fed, he reasons to them, he will feed himself. Unbroken and unwilling to be marched to his death, he resists, still half-chained to the wall and pulling a few off the masonry, but ultimately... There are too many of them. After the fifth spear plunged in, there is nothing more than a thrashing heap on the floor. Will unbroken, but not the body.  "A lot of these are a bit of a downer, ain't they? Let's try a little pick me up with a more uplifting one."A scarred and wizened goblin is being dragged out into the central courtyard, where the gibbet can be found. It kicks and bucks but is too small to really give much trouble to the guards that hold onto it. It whispers some vile words of power, its teeth growing long, wicked, and jagged, and manages to take a bite out of one of the guards, the acid eating through the piece of plate, but it does not break through underneath, and they quickly bind it up and muzzle it with an cold iron bit that resists the magical acid. "Being a goblin isn't exactly dignified. Culture, history, you know, any semblance of society, doesn't come natural to them. But this one right here might have been onto something, a little nugget of truth under all that rough that threatened a lot of the base assumptions people love to make about what's a monster, and what's, well, people. And of course, he was rewarded for that truth-saying: With a one trip ticket to Abaddon to visit with the slug lord of secrets himself for the rest of eternity."The goblin is pressed down against the simple shaped block of the ravenstone, which is always purified and cleansed and shows not even the hint of a stain, only a groove where one's head is rested as the work is done. The executioner wears the ritual hood, and the priest presides, though everyone here seems to treat this more like putting down a wild animal than a proper execution. Beheading is at least a relatively less painful way to die, even if it is lacking in a certain dignity, or poetic weight. Such things are rarely spared for monsters. The goblin's head falls perfectly within the basket below, another clean execution for the guards of Branderscar.  "Yeah, OK, I lied a little there, boss. But you know a little hope spices things up, it's why we don't always crush our enemies immediately, better to really draw it out. Its more demons that prefer the in-and-out, as it were, though even a dretch can't resist a good torture. Hear me out, this next one turns out better. It's got a prophecy and everything."Our next subject is a handsome halfbreed woman of orcish and elvish heritage, with dark lips and sharp ears, though lacking her usual mirth. A desolation of the spirit has come after repeated attempts, and there is a certainty that has set into her such that her head hangs low, as the guards position her on the gallows. Her eyes burn, but her bound hands no longer have the strength to fight back. "Goblins got a raw deal, but the orcs are even worse off. They at least had something going for them for a time thanks to Big Red. They really perfected the art of war, and nobody could stop them, certainly not as long as the Hells backed them up. Was going swimmingly until the elves fluxxed it up, as usual. So here comes a prophesied half-breed, and she's a hot momma with a child of some serious pedigree that might have a shot at the One True Warchief and... Well, she can tell the Lord of Pain all about it when she lands in Phlegethos."The rope is pulled around and a noose tied and tightened against her strong neck. She raises her face, committed to standing strong. She begins as she did previously in the courtroom to begin to curse in her own language, to deny her gods-given name and taken on the one of her people, claiming that so long as her son lived the prophecy did as well, and that all would be crushed under the heel of the heirs of Gruumsh One-Eye. This was not a sympathetic message to the audience. With the pull of a lever, and the twitching of her feet, her speech was cut a bit short.  "By now you probably know not to trust a lot that comes falling out of my jawbones, but let me say this: These last three are cut of a similar cloth. The Angels, the Monsters, they aren't hard to figure out. These are the wildcards, but they all share something: They know their worth, and it's a seller's market. I call them the Death Mongers, because to the last, they want to see a lot of corpses by the end of the year. Let me start with a case in point."In one of the well-appointed cells, an old woman with intense blue eyes sits at her bed, as the rising sun pours down on her weary old face. She has a kindly expression as she worries at the hems of her roughspun cloth, lightly rocking back and forth. The locks release, and the door swings open, with a flame coming holding a flask banded with brass and a dark, dark green substance within. He smiles and says his words, and the woman smiles back, and asks that she be given the rites of return, as she is ready to recant and repent before meeting her fate. "You can't be fooled by the kind ol' granny trick, can you boss? I honestly think of the nine here this is by far the most dangerous. Not in the kind of, being a dragon of a challenge sort of dangerous. More like being more wily than a lamia and meaner than a manticore. She's got no loyalties but to her and her secrets, much like the Hag Countess of Malbolge."When the priest gets close enough, she strikes like a viper, stabbing him repeatedly in the stomach with a hidden shiv as streaks of crimson stain his multi-colored robes and her own humble clothes. Guards stream in as she claws out one of his eyes, screaming and still living as she rears back, drawing a line of blood across her cheek and summoning the bound soul of her tormented husband to loom over her. However, there is a pulse of magic and the enchantment is dispelled, as the warden, a wizard in blue and white, crosses inside with his staff before him. She launches an assault upon him, but he seizes the initiative and binds her with a holding spell, as the guards strap her down to the bed with leather straps, her body ultimately failing her once her magic is gone, revealed in its frailty. With the flask in hand, the warden approaches, grimacing as he has to administer the medicinal execution himself. It was intended as a mercy for her age, but in truth it ends up a dirty, painful death, as frankly deserved compared to a restful sleep, as the woman clings to life viciously even as the poison ends it.  "What did I just tell you boss? I kind of started off strong there, but our next name on the list to die worries me just as much."Laid against a wooden rack and wheel, chained down and all fire and indignance, is a red-haired elf with crazed eyes, spitting indignities at the stone-faced inquisitors as they listen to each word. One is writing down each one with a quill, the other with a solid ash staff in hand waiting. This begins to irritate the elf, who begins shouting and questioning the one writing down, demanding he speak, before devolving into gloating that of course his testament and work should be remembered for all time. The inquisitor with the staff makes a demand. "Recant." The elf laughs, and then groans as his body is pulled taut by the chains. "Recant." The elf spits, and then screams as one of his legs is smashed with the wooden rod, broken and then yanked again by the rack. "Look, I got beef with necromancers, let's put that on the table. It's hard to think fondly of the type to enslave you for a few centuries to look after a pittance of jewels, and without the courtesy to just pass away and release you from the contract. But at least I understand them. I have no idea what to make of this one. He's got vision, ideas. Building, always building, like the churning brass city of Dis. If we're lucky, it'll swallow him up, but what if... what if he changes it?The work continues. The elf however only sings further and further his maddened vision. He claims that the mastery of death will soon bring a new age where all can live the serenity as the elves do. With it they can build a new world like that beyond the planes. Each of his limbs is broken, and the pain causes him to pass out on a few occasions. He is destined as other heretics to be crucified, but eventually, his body begins to break down. He croaks out a final spat of maniacal laughter... And expires, just another corpse.  "Yikes. Alright, let's wrap this up. Even I'm starting to lose my appetite after that one."One last figure left. And it's the smallest, by a hair, walking in a chain line through a dark tunnel, his face simmering with frustration and exhaustion, a youthful halfling with dark eyes and large round ears. He is in the salt mines not too far from Branderscar, and by far out of place here, his tiny frame and less-than-well-worked hands making each task put forward to him all the harder. We see a montage of his toil, only to learn that what seems like months is but a single day. "Last, and if I'm being honest least, at least by my reckoning, is this snot. Somehow he's got the biggest idea of himself, but I mean, just look at him! A speck, both of mind and body! But I have to admit, he's got the hunger. Don't be fooled by the boyish good looks, he's desperate for a war. He's dangerous, just as the other Mongers, but please, I hope Mammon keeps this one, because the last thing we need is a tiny creature with a huge ego and an even bigger mouth... What? Anyway, he'll be delayed a bit. Life in the salt mines is a slow, agonizing death derived from endless toil...The halfling marches down the tracks deeper, and feels his body giving way. He stumbles, eyes crossing and breathing shallow, and then he collapses, curling in on himself. He can feel the world darkening, and so does out vision. We see the creaking of a massive cart, being heaved up and ready to be set down on the slope and move down along the way, as a half-orc and human push with all of their strength. It's heavily laden with the salt. Once it's at the summit of the slope, they give one last heave, and it moves along down, screeching a bit of metal against metal, interrupted with a sort of sickeningly wet bump along the way. "What was that?" The half-orc asks. "Just keep moving, pigtooth," the human responds.  "Oh. Uh. Wow. Ok. Uhhh... Moving on then..."We finally return to the unknown place beneath the earth, those yawning corridors, as the ledger closes once more. Was it a ledger or a story book? Don't ask, I've already spent a few hours on this and the narrative is falling apart. It's obviously straining the flameskull at this point as well, his fire a bit more dim. "You know, it would really have taken a miracle to somehow put this miserable nonetto to sing the same tune."Pause for laughter that never comes. But indeed, all of this is turned back. Every gruesome end is reverted, down through those three days through a ticking, anachronistic clock, back to the days they are seated in their cells, resting their heads back down. And all of them are treated to this intense vision, the dream of their demise. "It’s a shame to let all that talent go to waste, especially all at once. So… Let’s try it again, back from the top. Good guys, you see, don’t get a lot of second chances. The stakes for them are dire, because they have people they care about. Something to lose. But bad guys? We love losing. We always can come crawling back with some new plan. All we lose is maybe our life, our soul, our dignity. Everything’s expendable."Each of them, one by one, wakes with a start. Except for the elf, of course. Elves don't sleep, like assholes. But the reverie and vision of his fever caused by a bad attempt at improvising a potion from the, ahem, materials at hand suffices. "Everything has a price. Just like your lives, but luckily, you've got an opportunity no do-gooder will ever get." "… You… You know what I’m gonna say next, right? Look, it’s in the contract, boss. You knew it was coming."There’s an exasperated sign, and then the narrator says the thing. 
Tricky Dick Nixon fucked around with this message at 04:07 on Jun 1, 2018 |
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Jun 1, 2018 04:05
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The final selections are:
This was basically the hardest it's ever been to isolate it down, but after a few combinations, I found a really satisfying trio of trios with strong thematic connections and landed on that. I intend to open the IC thread likely on Monday. I will set up the roll20 for character sheets tomorrow. If you could mention your exact timezone that will be useful for coordinating scenes on Discord when we want to do one-on-ones. In the meantime, I have some homework for my new players. First, describe to me an aborted escape attempt you made on the first day of your imprisonment, and why it failed. This will both let your character know their limitations IC before we begin proper, and also might add some details (and strengths/weaknesses) of your prison. Next, you will select three bonds to have with your fellow villains. They needn't make immediate sense in the narrative and can develop during the first adventure, but you should discuss with other players and get an idea of some early character dynamics. There are three bonds you should pick:
Lastly, you will name three rumours about your character. These are your reputation that carries with their deeds. One puts you in a flattering light, one in a disparaging light, and one in a mysterious light. Two of them are lies, one of them is true. Tell me, the Dungeon Master, which is which over Discord or forum PM. Then, other players can select one of each type to know of other players from each of the three kinds, with the intent to use it for the basis of a scene or conversation later on, so it might be best to pick rumours from people you don't already have bonds with. I also have some sheet recommendations that can be treated as just that, recommendations. Just to kind of spread things out now that we know what the final party looks like.
Tricky Dick Nixon fucked around with this message at 04:27 on Jun 1, 2018 |
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Jun 1, 2018 04:06
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Disguise: Time Zone: PST quote:First, describe to me an aborted escape attempt you made on the first day of your imprisonment, and why it failed. This will both let your character know their limitations IC before we begin proper, and also might add some details (and strengths/weaknesses) of your prison. Shortly after being deposited into her cell, well-appointed as it was, Excellence was already scheming on how to escape. Being very much herself, she decided upon a plan that was bold in execution and straight-forward enough that the guards shouldn't have safeguards in place against it. She'd murder a guard, steal their arms and armor, and charge towards freedom. If she freed some thankful prisoners along the way, that would only strengthen her chances of escape. The first part went well enough. The guards were drinking heavily that first night and, with no little patience, Excellence was able to convince them to deal her in... and therefore get one of them close enough to the bars that she could put him in a chokehold. The other guard had to open her cell to help his companion, as she'd cleverly angled herself where his sword wouldn't reach, and at that point, she simply beat them to death with some vicious blows to less-armored areas. She found herself with patchwork armor, sword, and shield. Everything she'd need to fight free. She wasn't about to stoop to stealing the guard's coin pouches, though, and that's where her plan went off the rails. The door leading out of the immediate area was ensorcelled only to allow passage with a magic token. The guards had them in their coin pouches, naturally, and when Excellence charged through... she found herself locked in another cell. They didn't even bother collecting her stolen gear until shortly before the execution was scheduled. quote:Next, you will select three bonds to have with your fellow villains. They needn't make immediate sense in the narrative and can develop during the first adventure, but you should discuss with other players and get an idea of some early character dynamics. There are three bonds you should pick: Covet: Niashé's innate command of the shadows is something beyond Excellence's understanding. How can she not envy such power? If she cannot have it herself, she will surely have Niashé. Leverage: As discussed, Salvatrix is the peanut butter to Excellence's chocolate. How can Excellence ignore her brilliant tactician-to-be/right-hand lady and her equally brilliant plots? Rivalry: Excellence takes no little pride in her strength on the battlefield. Hriss's seeming ignorance of her attempts to show him up would only stoke the fires of her rivalry with him. quote:Lastly, you will name three rumours about your character. These are your reputation that carries with their deeds. One puts you in a flattering light, one in a disparaging light, and one in a mysterious light. Two of them are lies, one of them is true. Tell me, the Dungeon Master, which is which over Discord or forum PM. Then, other players can select one of each type to know of other players from each of the three kinds, with the intent to use it for the basis of a scene or conversation later on, so it might be best to pick rumours from people you don't already have bonds with. Flattering: Captain Excellence once led her small band straight into the heart of a band of Merrow raiders, risking certain death, to rescue an ally that had been left behind. Disparaging: Captain Excellence is as much of a devil as her appearance suggests. She horribly tortured her men, forcing them into dark and terrible rituals of supplication to her dark god. Mysterious: Ware picking up cards with the devilish Excellence. It's been said that she once won such a victory over one of her rival captains, that the man aged decades from the mental strain. quote:Excellence: No immediate suggestions here, but I am curious: What kind of playing card games do you think are most common in Talingarde? Does Excellence enjoy them, or is she merely surprisingly good at them? I think, given Excellence's natural inclinations, it's largely games of bluffing and bold plays rather than anything based on working percentages and minimizing risk. So I'd say that people play a lot of trump-taking games, Euchre probably being my immediate touch-stone, and also more betting-based games along the lines of poker. As for whether she enjoys them? Of course! She's rather talented, as these things go, and she enjoys the chance to prove her dominance in a way that maintains combat efficacy in those she works with. Tricky fucked around with this message at 15:50 on Jun 1, 2018 |
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Jun 1, 2018 04:14
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Not immediately urgent, but at some point I'd like to have a picture for your "disguise self" alter-ego. As part of the whole villainous genre, it's recommended (especially for the monstrous Hriss and Worm who can easily imitate with the power of the magic item you acquire a dragonborn and gnome respectively) that you have a sort of default alter-ego, and I want to make a token for such. Then when poo poo gets real you turn full villainous costume.
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Jun 1, 2018 04:59
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Open to changing, but right now, I'm thinking Hriss as having leverage, as Egina, being partly raised and having fully embraced orcish values, has a certain amount of deference to those with a lot of raw strength. Pharom might conceivably have knowledge about the curse that was put on the orcish people, that Egina would very much covet My first inclination for the rivalry is Salvatrix, because both her and Egina use charm to bring about doom, but Salvatrix might have someone else who's already rivaling her. Excellence is also a possibility. In the sense that they both zealously serve their god in very different ways, and have very different 'styles'. Timezone: GMT+1, but I'm usually up pretty drat late. Shogeton fucked around with this message at 06:25 on Jun 1, 2018 |
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Jun 1, 2018 05:03
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Timezone: Mountain, I keep odd hours though so whenever. Old Disguise Young Disguise Escape Attempt: Preconceived notions are a wondrous thing in a situation like this, Gertrude had been brought in to Branderscar on charges of incredibly vile crimes, but when she was fully in character it was hard to believe that such a sweet old woman had committed such heinous acts. Everything after her initial capture had been completely passive. She'd slip in and out of seeming lucidity and was nothing but polite to the "nice young men" who were "taking her on a lovely trip." A proper rapport could take months to build, but Gertrude really didn't have the time. So she'd take the closest thing she could, a homesick gullible idiot. The guard who'd shown up for the evening watch was probably the least inspiring specimen she'd seen, likely a family member of someone in the prison's staff who'd pulled some strings to get their layabout sibling work. Over the course of the evening, Gertrude did her best to engage, doing simple chores around her cell as best she could to build up an image in the guard's mind of a harmless old woman, preferably one who reminded him of his own grandmother. Eventually they began to talk, and Gertrude brought the weight of her religious background to bear, inspiring guilt in the man, after all this poor clearly innocent woman was being sentenced to death! When Gertrude heard the guard grumbling about the quality of his evening meal, she decided to take her shot. "Why not escort Granny Penderghast to the kitchen to cook a meal for you?" For anyone with a spark of sense in their head it would have made sense to deny her, but a man with cold stew and dried out bread in front of him is much easier to sway, and a gentle elderly woman asking to use her last moments of freedom to do a kindness was just enough to get her out of her cell, if under strict watch from the guard. Now, there's quite a few things to be found laying about in a kitchen that can poison a man, and Gertrude found more than one. It only took a short time for the mishmash of a concoction she'd made to kick in, and soon enough the guard was face first asleep on the table. Gertrude would loved to say she made it, but we all know how this ends. She was picked up halfway to the front gates, only managing to avoid being cut down by falling straight into her doddering old woman guise, questioning the guards over whether they'd seen her grandson or not. Back in her cell, Gertrude smiled bitterly. She hadn't truly been expecting escape to be so easy, but she was armed now at least. Her hand brushes against her stomach, a thin kitchen knife concealed in the rags of her prison wear a large comfort to accompany the amusement she was feeling at hearing the drugged guard being berated for his failings. She could only hope he'd be dismissed, and when the time came to make an escape attempt in earnest, she had one less moron to cut her way through. Bonds Covet: I don't know what to make of this Salvatrix, she is an odd one. From the very start she seems to have shown a touch too much respect, hard lessons learned at the beck and call of a harder trainer I should expect. I can't complain about her efficiency, the girl's youth combined with her training makes her casting as smooth as any I've seen... Would that I could be so young again. Perhaps in time I'll avail myself of the girl's excess of age, I know not the ritual to do it now, but it would be just another step on my quest to mastering undeath. If time permits perhaps I will train the child as an apprentice of sorts, the young folk these days do have such a flexible manner of thinking, and access to it could further my goals quite nicely. Leverage on me: I long for the days when I was young, I had never made a mistake as foolish as the lapse I had in front of Niashé. It's an occurrence that seldom happens, but my memory does slip from time to time. I was leafing through the library in preparation for our next outing, mouthing my prayers to Lord Vecna, and damned if I didn't forget that girl can read lips. Hopefully she just brushes it off, but I must keep a close eye on her, it wouldn't do for one of Vecna's faithful to be so casually unveiled. Is my Rival: Pharom may be somewhat older that me, but he's still just some young upstart stepping into the realms of death. The man has some interesting ideas about halting the progress of death, but he does have some odd misconceptions about the mechanics of death, and it's important that I hammer those out of him if we are to work together. Rumor Mill As tight lipped as Gertrude is about many things, she's surprisingly open about many aspects of her mundane past. She'd always happy to put on a pot of tea and have a sit down, regaling the listener with details of Ravenswood's fall, or the valuable treasures she's found tucked away in the clutches of dead nobles. The most notorious moments of Gertrude's past are things kept secret between her and her god, but some of the tales she tells, most of which occurred well before the time of most prisoners, manage to spark some memory of events in recent news. Flattering Healer arrives just in time! The town of Broikoss is singing the praises of a mysterious visitor who passed through the town this week. Lean times this winter in the Cazcus Wilds made the goblin raiding parties especially desperate this year. Many of the Broikoss militia were injured, but a wandering healer came to their aid before any casualties could be had. Disparaging Plague comes to Slacere! Be on your guard citizens! A trio of misshapen hags was spotted near Slacere. Foul play suspected as a sickness fell over our fair city within weeks of the mysterious crones decent from the desperations! Casualties were thankfully minimal, but all of our citizens should be on the lookout for any suspicious persons. Mysterious Strange circumstances on Lake Skarba! Odd news from Gorgeback this week, patrols are said to have seen a mysterious figure rowing away from one of the islands on Lake Skarba. The figure could not be found, but a quick check for mischief at the sacred site there revealed some grave markers to have been simply moved about with no actual damage dealt. Mechanical stuff: I snatched up up mending just in case we had a ranged martial heavy party that needed arrow fixing, but it's a little less needed at a glance. Swapping over to Control Flames. It's good to be able to flick out torches when you're begin chased through the night with grave loot  . If we do go super heavy on archery for some reason I'll pick mending back up at level 4. Rumours Gertrude has heard: Going with the people I have zero connection with in either direction. Flattering- Excellence quote:Captain Excellence once led her small band straight into the heart of a band of Merrow raiders, risking certain death, to rescue an ally that had been left behind. Simple honor? Some darker command from her Lord? Perhaps young Excellence was just softer before the ordeals that led to Branderscar. I think I shall learn what I can of this abandoned soldier, it may lead to a better understanding of the tiefling's mind. Disparaging- Glenn quote:Disparaging Rumor Family secrets are always so pleasant to whisper to Lord Vecna, I may have to do some digging around this young man's past sooner rather than later, I imagine there's quite a number of fine tidbits to discover tracing that path backwards. Mystery- Egina quote:"They she she has developed a secret code entirely in songs. She was giving orders to co-conspirators in the tavern in full view of everyone." I'm not fond of those able to speak unheard in front of me. This code, if it should even exist, will be an interesting puzzle to peel apart. Successful Businessmanga fucked around with this message at 15:54 on Jun 2, 2018 |
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Jun 1, 2018 05:16
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quote:First, describe to me an aborted escape attempt you made on the first day of your imprisonment, and why it failed. This will both let your character know their limitations IC before we begin proper, and also might add some details (and strengths/weaknesses) of your prison. Brandescar, like most prisons, had its infestation of vermin, and a rat was not hard for Worm to find. Immediately the goblin set to work luring the creature over with scraps of the food he was given, charming it with a promise of a meal and then a spell. Chittering and chattering with the rat, the goblin discovered that the guard attending him that day was someone that could be easily goaded. So Worm taunted, insulted the man’s appearance, family, lack of future prospects, whatever came to mind. As expected, the guard came over to punish the insolent monster, and the insolent monster prepared himself to capture the brash fool in vines once he opened the cell door. And he did, and all seemed to be well. The vines would not hold the guard for long, but long enough for Worm to dart off and get himself to one of the hidey-holes the rat whispered of. What he had not considered was that the corridors of Brandescar carried voices quite far. Some days those voices might be the anguished screams of prisoners, and this day it was the panicked shouting of an embarrassed and furious guard. Worm knew he was trapped when he heard the descending footsteps on the stairway, and began to turn back to find another passage, running right into the bear hug of a man all too eager to greet him. quote:Next, you will select three bonds to have with your fellow villains. They needn't make immediate sense in the narrative and can develop during the first adventure, but you should discuss with other players and get an idea of some early character dynamics. There are three bonds you should pick: Covet: As someone who has both lost his own tribe, and aspires to create his own someday, Worm is mighty jealous of Egina's cool kid! Leverage: Goblins have a great deal of elder worship in their culture, since well, most goblins don't live more than a few years. As such, Gertrude has Worm's respect, and more than a little fear. (Pharom is also old, but elves are cheaters!) Rival: WIP for Glenn! quote:Lastly, you will name three rumours about your character. These are your reputation that carries with their deeds. One puts you in a flattering light, one in a disparaging light, and one in a mysterious light. Two of them are lies, one of them is true. Tell me, the Dungeon Master, which is which over Discord or forum PM. Then, other players can select one of each type to know of other players from each of the three kinds, with the intent to use it for the basis of a scene or conversation later on, so it might be best to pick rumours from people you don't already have bonds with. Flattering: “You hear about that Sharpfang goblin that’s been going around? Necklace of fangs, oddly quiet? Apparently the miller’s kids that went missing yesterday in the swamp were returned safely because of him. Kept the rest of his kins’ grubby claws off the brats, and led them home himself even.” Disparaging: “Bah, a likely story! More’s likely the kids got lost while playing and needed an excuse not to get a whipping after worrying their mum sick. Yeah, I heard ‘bout your goblin all right. Heard about him skulking around the graveyards, digging out bodies. Is where the skulls hanging from his staff come. Filthy beasts. No respect for the dead.” Mysterious: “Can’t say I know about any lost children or robbed graves, but I’ve heard a thing or two about that goblin of yours myself. Good mate of mine happened to spot it and started to follow, hoping to sniff out the Sharpfang den. A reckless idiot he is, but not a better tracker in the region, I can tell you that. Swears the thing never saw or heard him, didn’t have a clue it was being followed. Yet suddenly the goblin’s trail just… vanished! Just like that, as he tells it.” quote:also what about that whole Historian thing, Worm Eleven years passed, and Worm writhed onwards, surviving as he always had. But now, now he had another trick over his many, many peers. He was able to listen and call upon the spirits, both of nature and his countless ancestors, just as the elders of his tribe could. A powerful tool for one so young, one that earned him respect. Yet it earned him jealousy and fear as well, another reason to shun the scrawny, quiet and seemingly aloof runt who so rarely participated in the games of his peers. He had few friends among his tribe, Worm did. But that didn’t mean he was alone. Far from it. The spirits, as it turned out, had taken a liking to Worm. Whether out of his promising talent, the fact he was an attentive listener, or simply because the dead get quite lonesome after haunting the earth for so long. And, to little surprise, there was no shortage of goblin spirits haunting the woods, the swamps, the... anywhere, really. Take a hundred steps in any direction, and you could find a fallen knife, a cracked skull, fragments of a totem, and countless other relics and artifacts. Too many spirits unable to move on, all too willing to tell their story. Whether they had anything valuable to teach was another matter entirely. Goblins never were one for clear memories, in life or death. They might remember wrong, focus on the wrong details, or lie outright because, well, goblins were always a conniving sort, and being free from most repercussions as a result of existing as a spirit didn’t help with that. Yet there were nuggets of wisdom there, intentional or unintentional, if one searched long and hard enough. So Worm listened, and he learned. Disguise:  Just an old gnome fellow, nothing to see here. Also as for my timezone, I'm US Eastern. TheFireMagi fucked around with this message at 03:51 on Jun 4, 2018 |
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Jun 1, 2018 06:02
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Suggested Changes: Took Herbalism Kit proficiency. Switched Draconic for Sylvan. Disguise  Time zone: Central Standard Time Escape Attempt: It was a good plan. Well, it would have been a good plan. Salvatrix befriended one of her guards with an increasingly groan worthy sob story that one couldn't help but fall for. Sal was just a poor girl from a distant land, and her resentment for her rough lot in life had driven her to some very questionable things, but she certainly wasn't evil. She saw now that the light could save her. But Sal was weak and scared, and try all she could, she couldn't put her nerves to rest and truly repent unless she had something. A cricket. You see, they had been everywhere in the Bounds. Their song reminded her of home. Sal even sheepishly admitted to keeping one as a pet once. It wasn't much but it was something to talk to. Before she knew it, the guard returned to her with cupped hands and a small prize. Too bad it had been a lie, mostly. Well, at least the repentance, and Sal would swear up and down having a pet cricket was far too pathetic even for her if you asked today. But the guards didn't realize that until they slumped on the floor fast asleep. Too bad the keys were out of reach. Better luck next time, I suppose.
Flattering Rumor: You know, for all the awful things she said about the King apparently the people of Lucidor really liked the wench until she was found out. Commonfolk are still talking about the kind Lady Goode much to the embarrassment of more than a handful of ashamed noble folks who had been just as taken with her. They say one of those Lucidorean scions still apologizes for her in back rooms. Thinks Branderscar was too much, the twit. Disparaging Rumor: By Mitra, did you see the way she plead while they got the brand ready? Well, I wasn't there. But I know a guy who knows an honor guard in Lucidor, real cushy job, but he had to hold her down through the whole thing. Says she offered'em everything she could but they didn't believe a word of it. She was sobbing, and whining, begging that they let her go and she'd never do it again right until the iron struck skin. The screech she let out was so loud the men holding her bled from there ears and eyes. It wasn't even human! Brave souls finished the job but they won't be doing much else for a while. Mysterious Rumor: I don't know about you, but there ain't no wizard I've ever met that practices in Sylvan. I've been around a long time, child, and the right minded folk use a proper arcane language. Not like there's scrolls left around by the fae for any fool to pick up and use. It's unnatural, I'm telling you. I bet she's not even a wizard at all. GenuineRevelry fucked around with this message at 16:14 on Jun 1, 2018 |
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Jun 1, 2018 06:28
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Neat!Tricky Dick Nixon posted:First, describe to me an aborted escape attempt you made on the first day of your imprisonment, and why it failed. This will both let your character know their limitations IC before we begin proper, and also might add some details (and strengths/weaknesses) of your prison. Bribery is as much an art as it is a science. Certain types of people can always be counted on to bend to certain pressures, but you'll need to figure out their angle. Dirty cops, as a rule, are to be avoided if possible. They serve two masters, and which one they cow to can change on a silver. Personally, I've always felt an affinity for the meek and downtrodden. Someone miserable, hopeless. Convince them you're their only lifeline outta here, that you can save them, and they'll do as you ask. You do have to save them, however. Never stiff an employee, even one maintained under duress. So I find this guy, this guard. Relatively new. Been about two years and he wants out. Proud to protect and serve, only he didn't expect to be posted here with the dredges of society. Kid wanted to be a hero, I guess. Yeah, probably should've thought about that a little longer. His stint was almost done, you see, only he'd been so busy sending money back home to mom and dad he didn't have enough to support himself. Looks like the future was career soldiering. Here, in this dank and dismal dungeon, with no shot at promotion. I try to befriend him. I'm not so bad, you see. Just a low-end pencil pusher, a cog in the criminal process. They only sent me here cause the bigger fish got away. I ain't a murderer or a blasphemer. I know the signs of Mitra. But hey, you help me, I help you, and you can get outta here, how's that sound? I had to wait a bit before springing the offer. Guards ain't supposed to fraternize with their charges. But now he's in with me, and it's his rear end if his superiors find out we've been chatting. But if he keeps his mouth shut, I can get both of us outta here: me now, him later, and with a nice bonus for his silence. See the world, become an adventurer, all that crap. Then he gets this letter. His mom's on her death bed. She's so proud of him, serving his country. He don't dare ask for time off to visit her, due to the weight of me on his conscience, so instead he reports the both of us, willing to accept any punishment. Turns out the warden was touched by his integrity, promoted him for honesty, and I got transferred to the lower-end of the mines. My new handler's less chatty, and a definite proponent of "Spare the rod, spoil the child," if you get my meaning. Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Next, you will select three bonds to have with your fellow villains. They needn't make immediate sense in the narrative and can develop during the first adventure, but you should discuss with other players and get an idea of some early character dynamics. There are three bonds you should pick: Pharom has leverage over me. It was an expensive job, and he was one of a chain of clients. I was new to this side of the business then, and made a mistake in my calculations that resulted in a whole smuggling channel getting scrapped. I was later able to recover my standing among the criminal element, but Pharom remains my only client to ever learn my misstep. Worm is my rival, but it's a friendly rivalry...sometimes. On the one hand, I see a bit of myself in him: my struggles, my way of thinking. This ain't a word for little people. Us small fries need to watch out for each other. On the other hand, his views on halfling-goblin ancestry are patently ridiculous, and he badly needs a bath. Fair-weather friends, then. Just don't get us talking on politics or religion. Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Lastly, you will name three rumours about your character. These are your reputation that carries with their deeds. One puts you in a flattering light, one in a disparaging light, and one in a mysterious light. Two of them are lies, one of them is true. Tell me, the Dungeon Master, which is which over Discord or forum PM. Then, other players can select one of each type to know of other players from each of the three kinds, with the intent to use it for the basis of a scene or conversation later on, so it might be best to pick rumours from people you don't already have bonds with. Flattering Rumor I once gained ownership over an entire town (by forging every deed in the registry). Disparaging Rumor I was the child of a mistress and only adopted into the family because my father had no male heirs. Mysterious Rumor I once received an invitation to a fey wedding in Helveylyn. Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Glenn: We have a goodly amount of Charisma-based folks, so I think a really good role for you to play is more of someone who can do more sustained plotting and of course your business/crime boss angle. I feel like you could swap Performance for Stealth without losing anything and really increasing your utility as a rogue. You should think clearly about the kind of role you can play on the more offensive side of things, how your mastermind utility interacts with others, and I'd recommend looking into working with Gertrude and Pharom on having plenty of poisons and bombs and other things (even though you aren't going Thief.) Offensively, he's probably something akin to a support sniper. His (concealable) hand crossbow lets him invoke his sneak attack bonus (from a safe distance), and his ability to Help people at a glance (at level 3) by way of various (possibly zany) schemes fits my mental image of him as a behind-the-scenes player. I got pretty lucky with my stats, so I don't mind prioritizing feats to plug whatever gaps need plugging. No issues working with anyone, of which Pharom and Gertrude are probably the easiest allies. Like I said before, despite his demeanor, Glenn's very much a team player. It's good business to foster a partnership with someone whose strengths balance out your weaknesses, and vice versa. Glenn may be a bit haughty, but he's also flexible and willing to compromise in the name of achieving a greater goal. He may grit his teeth the entire time, but he'll do it. Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Not immediately urgent, but at some point I'd like to have a picture for your "disguise self" alter-ego. As part of the whole villainous genre, it's recommended (especially for the monstrous Hriss and Worm who can easily imitate with the power of the magic item you acquire a dragonborn and gnome respectively) that you have a sort of default alter-ego, and I want to make a token for such. Then when poo poo gets real you turn full villainous costume.  And I will be taking the following rumors: Shogeton posted:Flattery Tricky posted:Disparaging: Captain Excellence is as much of a devil as her appearance suggests. She horribly tortured her men, forcing them into dark and terrible rituals of supplication to her dark god. Wol posted:Mystery Bad Seafood fucked around with this message at 02:39 on Jun 4, 2018 |
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Jun 1, 2018 06:53
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Mr. Humalong posted:You got like 30 minutes, how soon are we talking? evidently not soon enough.
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Jun 1, 2018 07:40
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Escape Niashé's escape attempt was relatively simple in premise. She would fake her own death, then when they dumped her wherever they dumped dead people, she could begin her escape from a scarcely-guarded point. When the guards were elsewhere on their patrol, she began her ruse by using Prestidigitation to lend an icy pallor to her skin, giving her the appearance of advanced hypothermia. Once satisfied with her ghastly appearance, she cast Frostbite on her own chest, relying on the cold to lower her vitals enough to solidify the ruse. Gritting her teeth through the pain, she flopped down on the floor of her cell and waited for the guard to notice her. Soon enough, one came, just as planned. They called two fellow guards over and slid open the door. Unfortunately for Niashé, instead of checking her vitals the way one would typically be expected to, they checked by giving her two vicious kicks to the side. She felt a rib crack after the first. Having been trained for years to bear pain, she still gave no cry. On the second kick, however, her shadow magic reflexively sprang forth, enveloping her in a protective shroud. The ruse was up. The guards locked her cell once more and left her to her pain. ---- Covet "Excellence's "tradition" of Asmodeus worship sprang up from nowhere. Her ancestors, I am sure, were among those who abandonded our Lord as the Mitrans rose to power. Yet it's her who Asmodeus chooses as a paladin? She gets to act like Asmodeus is her private counsel while my my cabal, my family, through all their devotion, has made do interpreting occasional omens and portents? All that she is, Asmodeus gave to her. I just don't understand why he didn't bestow that gift on one of us." Leverage "Of this little group of assorted blackguards, only Egina truly understands what lengths I'd go to for my family's sake. Just how much more they mean to me than anything else in this mortal world. What I'd sacrifice to buy them the power they deserve. The others likely haven't even thought about whether the group comes first in my loyalties, but the moment I even mentioned my family, Egina knew." Rival "For generations, our cabal has formulated plans upon plans for our part in engineering Asmodeus's rise. I have studied these plans from a young age. I have memorized them. They are a part of me. I thought I would be the most well-prepared to lead our group, but far too often, Gertrude is one step ahead of me. It always seems to be her who sees the flaw in my idea, who has a better plan in mind, or who simply seems to be doing her own thing regardless of what I come up with. If I am to prove worthy as a leader of this nation, I must first prove worthy in front of Gertrude. If I can earn her respect, if I can get her to follow me? I'll have made the next step on my path." ---- Flattery Niashé is said to have engineered her family's latest Vernal Ball entirely to set Deepwell's Lord Matteus Hargreave up with Stagfall's Lady Aeslith De Lanherme. Each a child of their respective city's Earl, their recent betrothal has already done much to ease trade and travel restrictions between the two rival cities. Slander Niashé was once betrothed to Maryam Cethe, daughter of the Lord and Lady Cethe of Syarra. Before the betrothal could be announced, however, Niashé was caught sleeping with Maryam's brother Bashande. The whole thing was called off on the spot, and the two families agreed to never speak of it. Mystery Niashé's dress for the latest Royal Hibernal Ball, a slender, daring number with a billowing train that sparkled like freshly fallen snow and hinted prismatic hues depending on the angle of observation, was made for her by a winter fey. ---- Capfalcon posted:Flattery TheFireMagi posted:Disparaging: “Bah, a likely story! More’s likely the kids got lost while playing and needed an excuse not to get a whipping after worrying their mum sick. Yeah, I heard ‘bout your goblin all right. Heard about him skulking around the graveyards, digging out bodies. Is where the skulls hanging from his staff come. Filthy beasts. No respect for the dead.” Bad Seafood posted:Mysterious Rumor Disguise  artist credit: Selene Regener Wol fucked around with this message at 11:36 on Jun 10, 2018 |
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Jun 1, 2018 08:21
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Escape Now, usually guards always face the prisoners in pairs. But the first night Egina was there, one of the guards had to go relieve himself, and his companion was already running late, so decided to just be 'extra careful'. Egina considered that a sign that now was the time to act. Weeping for her son that she'd never see again, she managed to melt the guard's heart enough that he got oh so slightly too close to get within her grasp. She managed to overpower him and knock him out. Casting a spell to take his appearance, she tried to walk right out the place. Sadly for her, she never made it past the first checkpoint, where soldiers are expected to briefly give a password, because naive as these folks are, they do know about the existence of 'disguise self' as a spell. She got caught, the two guards who broke the rules got put on latrine duty for a month. Covet "Pharom is an elf, and no elf is a friend of mine. But he's also an elf with magical knowledge. The elves keep the secret of their curse on my people jealously, but he might know things of it. It can not be chance that he's here at the same time as I am. I need to make sure he stays alive, at least until he can tell me all that he knows about the nature of the curse and how to undo it." Leverage "Strength is power, rather than cunning, or knowledge or wealth. Those are the ways of my people, and while I fake respect for the way of elves, I am an orc at heart. Hriss carries his strength visibly and openly. I don't take orders from him of course, but I'm polite towards him." Rival "I want my son to be a leader, inspiring and terrifying and powerful, dedicated to One Eye, and to set him an example. But Excellence is powerful, inspiring, zealous, ambitious and has the favour of Asmodeus herself. I must make sure she does not eclipse my son's star." Rumors Flattery "They say one of the swords that belonged to King Roak himself was obtained by her, and smuggled to the orcish tribes." Slander "They say she once beat one of her criminal contacts to death because he said she acted more like an elf than an orc." Mistery "They she she has developed a secret code entirely in songs. She was giving orders to co-conspirators in the tavern in full view of everyone." Rumors I heard Flattery Glenn I once gained ownership over an entire town (by forging every deed in the registry). "I don't really care about us owning land. Once the orcs come, deeds are mostly going to be useful to wipe asses. I'm interested in how this can be used to mess with their fancy order. Everyone puts so much faith in their papers and their deeds. Undermine that, and all their fancy alliances and kingdoms will fall apart." Slander [bGertrude[/b]Plague comes to Slacere! Be on your guard citizens! A trio of misshapen hags was spotted near Slacere. Foul play suspected as a sickness fell over our fair city within weeks of the mysterious crones decent from the desperations! Casualties were thankfully minimal, but all of our citizens should be on the lookout for any suspicious persons. If there's one thing that can ravage the kingdoms before an orc attack it is a good epidemic. Just... need to make sure there's certain folks that'd be safeguarded against it. We can break their will before the battle starts! Mystery Salvatrix I don't know about you, but there ain't no wizard I've ever met that practices in Sylvan. I've been around a long time, child, and the right minded folk use a proper arcane language. Not like there's scrolls left around by the fae for any fool to pick up and use. It's unnatural, I'm telling you. I bet she's not even a wizard at all. "What is this? A new magic? She might be able to help our race to regain its glory and power if the elf is useless. It's a long shot, but worth looking into. Shogeton fucked around with this message at 18:37 on Jun 3, 2018 |
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Jun 1, 2018 14:44
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Tricky Dick Nixon posted:First, describe to me an aborted escape attempt you made on the first day of your imprisonment, and why it failed. This will both let your character know their limitations IC before we begin proper, and also might add some details (and strengths/weaknesses) of your prison. Taking advantage of the charity of the guards, Pharom suggested slight alterations to the menu. Nothing fancy. Just a few of the spices he saw growing in the garden as he was brought to his cell. His suggestions got back to the cook, who decided to give them a try. You see, when you get down to it, cooking is essentially alchemy, but for simpletons. As soon as he got the meal, he peeled the herbs off and mixed them together and let them ferment in his cup. When the next guard walked into the room, he was met with a wall of noxious gas. While the wretch was writhing on the ground, vomiting up everything he'd eaten over the last week, Pharom reached between the bars and grabbed the cell keys. Unfortunately, the room was too poorly ventilated, and before he could make it to the door, Pharom joined the guard on the ground. Pharom only gets bland porrage for his meals now. If only he could get to the kitchen proper, he'd be able to whip up some truly fowl brews for the guards here. Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Next, you will select three bonds to have with your fellow villains. They needn't make immediate sense in the narrative and can develop during the first adventure, but you should discuss with other players and get an idea of some early character dynamics. There are three bonds you should pick: I covet Worm's knowledge of spirits. I've spent too long focusing on the preservation of the body without worrying about the mind. Worm is quite experienced in working with them, and I need that knowledge. Glenn has leverage on me Glenn responded to the information I had on him quite poorly. He went digging for dirt on me, and he managed to get his grubby hands on my records from the academy. He asked if I even went to my draconic script class. ...not that I care about those ridiculous classes obviously, but I don't want people getting the wrong idea. I consider Salvatrix my rival. A proud wizard looking down on everyone around them? Why no, why would I think they need to be shown their place. Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Lastly, you will name three rumours about your character. These are your reputation that carries with their deeds. One puts you in a flattering light, one in a disparaging light, and one in a mysterious light. Two of them are lies, one of them is true. Tell me, the Dungeon Master, which is which over Discord or forum PM. Then, other players can select one of each type to know of other players from each of the three kinds, with the intent to use it for the basis of a scene or conversation later on, so it might be best to pick rumours from people you don't already have bonds with. Flattery In one of his last experiments, Pharom actually managed to bring a recently deceased boy back to life. Granted, he was screaming in agony the whole time and begged for the sweet release of death, but considering Pharom was using the materials he could get away with stealing, it's pretty impressive. Slander Pharom was so surprised when his lab was raided that he accidentally dropped the vials of acid he was holding, which started dissolving his clothes. He ended up getting dragged through the street with no pants and half a shirt on his way to the jail cell. Mystery Pharom managed to smuggle in his first revived flesh. Its just a scrap of muscle from a bird, but it's warm to the touch. And every now and then, it wriggles. Future Disguise Here's Pharom's disguise:  Trust me, it won't hurt a bit. Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Pharom: Though I would keep the grave-robbing aspect of your history, I would recommend a rework of your benefit. How does this sound: "Given time, you can extract reagents and ingredients from the corpses of exotic creatures (read: non-humanoids) to create potions after each encounter." Usually just one or two based on the flavor of the monsters defeated, and of course you'd also have material that if you have more creative ideas for could be used in more expansive ways. Sold! Also, my time zone is Eastern. Rumors I've claimed: Flattery: Pharom came from a well off family, and he's never wanted for anything. So, he's interested in gossip about Niashé matchmaking skills. Slander: Let's just say Pharom showed a bit of reasonable self interest when he hears about Egina's reputation when she arrive here. Mystery: If the stories are true, Hriss' formidable physique is partially the work of someone else. Pharom wants to know all the details for his own work. Capfalcon fucked around with this message at 04:03 on Jun 4, 2018 |
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Jun 1, 2018 15:42
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