Our new Indie Games subforum is now open for business in G&T. Go and check it out, you might land a code for a free game. If you're developing an indie game and want to post about it, follow these directions. If you don't, he'll break your legs! Hahaha! Seriously though.
Our rules have been updated and given their own forum. Go and look at them! They are nice, and there may be new ones that you didn't know about! Hooray for rules! Hooray for The System! Hooray for Conforming!

[4E, Legends of Novus OOC] GM Post up, read OOC for details on skill challenge!

TalonrazorTalonrazor Registered User regular
edited October 2009 in Critical Failures
“Are you ready, Maker Dwini?”

Daco Dwini opened his eyes. The cart had jostled to a stop, they must have had arrived. He lifted his short, bulky frame up slightly and pulled back the canvas cover. The elven pillowhouse was right in front of them. They had gotten this far, success was close. Daco turned his squat head to view the dwarf who had spoken.

“I am ready, Maker Katzor. We are all ready.”

The four other dwarves grunted in agreement. They all wore the thick brown wool robes with large hoods and Daco was already sweating from the four hour ride in the rickety cart. The colossal amount of gear strapped to him underneath the robe was causing him to overheat severely. Sweat dampened the rest of the dwarves as well. Daco clawed at the itchy robe, nicking the brooch that signified he was a member of the halfing merchant Peninsula Trading Company. One his companions were twisting something in the back of cart, causing a faintly audible clacking sound. Daco tried to shift the massive warhammer strapped to his back to the side, easing the pain in his posterior.

“We are ready, Descendants. Let us go forth.”

Daco nodded and he dropped the wagon tailgate. It clanged against the large merchant wagon as Daco tried to jump out. Almost falling over as he did, he quickly straightened up and helped down the other five. The cobblestone street was fairly full with delicate elven carriages and human traveling vans. A group of halfing children ran down a sidewalk, laughing. On their side of the street the pillowhouse loomed, opulent and decadent in the advertisement of what it offered. If the information had been right, their timing would be perfect. Daco prayed that it was.

The six dwarves moved quickly across the street, toddling in their burden. The extravagantly decorated door of the pillowhouse opened with a slight push and the six went in. Daco quickly surveyed the lobby from deep underneath his hood. There were two elves in the lobby, a male standing next to a door in a fancy suit and a beautiful female behind the counter in a sheer silken gown that offered no concealment. She smiled at the six.

“Welcome, my little masters. The House of Lilali is always a friend of halfings from the Trading Company. Are you wanting special services or do you want to join the floor?”

Next to Daco, Maker Baener moved with sudden speed and a small ax whirled from his robes. It split the female’s head in neatly from her forehead down to her nose, drenching the gown in blood. The male elf managed a slight cry of surprise as a second ax caught him near his left eye, ripping a massive trench. The four others bolted to the doors, quickly tying intricate knots with the strong braided rope they had brought. Daco had already vaulted the counter and was dragging the female into a cuboared. She gasped for a moment, the axe hadn’t sunk deep enough, and Daco twisted her neck. Baener bumped up against him as he shoved the male’s body underneath the counter.

“Sealed,” a dwarf called low as the doors were locked.

One of the dwarves grunted as the other three moved towards the large round door the male had been standing to previously. Daco scanned the small lobby again as the dwarves put back on their hoods. He nodded at Maker Katzor. So far, so good. The alarm hadn’t been raised. Katzor pushed open the round door and waddled into the next room, Daco close behind.

The room was circular and very large, with purple and gold colors and intricate designs on the walls and ceilings. The middle of the room was sunken down and filled with massive, ornate pillows. And many, many naked bodies. It was a writhing mass of flesh and cries and heaving. The air was thick with the smell of bodies and elven drugs. Around the room were tables and chairs and nude beings sat and smoked long pipes. It was mostly elves in the room, with the occasional human and halfing thrown in. Most disregarded the robed figures as they spread themselves around the perimeter of the room, too involved or high or drunk to notice that more had joined. Somewhere, elf maidens were playing flute and harps and two human females in collars and leather were moving about with platters of alcohol.

Daco was filled with a sense of joy as he gazed at the scene. There were more here than they had dared hoped. Across the room, Katzor made a motion and the dwarves reached into their robes and made small adjustments. A slight ticking could be heard, almost in unison, from each dwarf. Daco breathed in heavily, tasting the elven decadent and folly. He viewed their revelry, their utter hedonism with hatred. A raging fire burned deep within him. These are the ones who murdered my people, my ancestors. Who destroyed what was ours. These are the enemy. He closed his eyes and chanted a prayer, his hands within the robe gripping at tools and weapons. The moment was close.

Everything slowed for a moment and Daco was aware of everything. Of the sweat on a human male’s back as he grappled with elven female. Of the taste of the burning crystals of the elven drugs. Of the slave girls enduring jeers and advances as they served their drinks. Of the noise, the waste. He was aware of everything, could smell everything, hear everything. The six dwarves stood on the brink, enjoying the moment before they slipped into the abyss.

Katzor fired first. His dwarven powder pistol roared and deafened in the room. A elf standing in the center of the room collapsed as a hole was torn into him, splaying blood over several human males and an elven female. No one screamed, not yet. The shock was still settling in. It was when Garathat buried his ax deep into a human as he did the same thing to a elf that the screams started. Daco’s robe fell to the floor, revealing the weapons and implements strapped to his body and legs. He whirled the massive goblin blunderbuss off of his shoulder and aimed it into the deepest mass of bodies in the room. It belched fire and smoke as dozens of bullets ripped and tore.

The blunderbuss was hurled aside as he shrugged the warhammer into his hands. An elven male scrambling out of the pit caught his first blow, skull and brains mixing together into a gory shower. Another elf got hit in the stomach and vomited blood. A female was struck in the back, bones poking and snapping from skin. Baener’s twin pistols burped, one after another, as the two slave girls screamed and sunk as bloody stumps. Harkner hurled an ax and a human tried to pull it from his shoulder before he was cut down by Thadfurt. An elven female was behead as she rose from the ground, a human’s skull was split open by a dwarven bullet. Intestines and blood coated the floor. Screaming and crying individuals fell in their haste to avoid the massacre.

The music had been replaced by a different sound, a sound of death and anguish. The six dwarves were cutting a bloody circle around the orgy pit, moving steadily inwards. One or two managed to escape the encroaching ring but were quickly cut down by dwarven powder and goblin guncotton. Daco was soaked now in blood and entrails but he kept his destruction moving forward. He cut a swath of death through the naked bodies, now clothed in red. The ticking was getting louder and faster now. Some dropped to their knees and begged and were beheaded. Others tried to fight and were ripped apart. Some cried and cowered and were shot. There was no mercy, only cold hard killing machines.

Daco started to chant as the ticking become more frenzied. “We are the Iron Arm, the Iron Arm that shields, the Iron Arm that serves.”

Katzor had joined him now, his voice growing louder. “The Iron Arm does not break, The Iron Arm does not hesitate.”

Baener’s voice leaped in as the dwarves continued their attack on the trapped, seeming more like farmers with sickles at harvest then dwarves with axes at revenge. “We are the Iron Arm. For that which is dead. Can never die.”

They all were saying it now, the ticking reaching its zenith. Daco buried the warhammer into an elf and let go, raising his hands to the roof and closing his eyes.

“For that which is melted,” Daco whispered as the ticking suddenly stopped. “Is forever.”

The six dwarves exploded.
The dragons are dead, to begin with. Killed by betrayal, demons and man, the dragons are dead and with them gone, magic is fading from the land. Meanwhile, humanity shoulders on in the continuing quest of further enlightenment, knowledge and power. The elves hole up in the cities, worthless to other races as their only desire is the fulfillment of lust and hedonistic desires. The dwarves plot bloody revenge and conduct terrifying resistance against those who have wronged them. The age of adventures is thought to be over, with the progress of man's kingdoms into the wild world. Civility is coming to the wild. Or so they say. Real watchers of the world know it is not as it may seem. The forces of darkness and evil, the undead and damned, they are gathering their power to break the chains... This is the world of Novus, where man is civilization, knowledge is power, the undead rise and airships soar.

Legends of Novus
Currently Playing

Part I: Genesis
Prologue



Grab the Campaign Starter Guide Here!

This is a D&D 4E campaign designed around the idea that magic is fading from the world, Novus, and mankind is slowly modernizing the main continent, Tamara. A game of guns, steampunk city-states, wild barbaric elves and suicidal dwarves. Follow us as the players explore the lands, delving into the sandbox open-ended campaign with their own goals and plans. This is a world where anything can happen!

The Characters:

artificer.jpg
InterrobangShreya Darchala, Eladrin Artificer
An inventor from the Imperial Cult with stolen knowledge and shattered faith.
misso.jpg
Rainfall Miss, Revenant Assassin
A deadly assassin from beyond the grave, seeking revenge on her killers.
69skarinj
ElfwordThoth, Human Warden
A human warrior trying to save a loved one.
15.jpg
SimpsonParadoxKavaki Yuthr, Goliath Barbarian
A Barbarian seeking knowledge and slaver's blood.
08kamarij
Weretac0 - Karamir Rassaim, Genasi Invoker
A worshiper from a desert land.
Bard_by_AIBryce.jpg
PowerpuppiesGarret Andershard, Halfling Bard/Cleric
A former priest-of-the-Faith-in-training that now seeks glory.
steampunk_private_investigator_by_D.jpg
DelmainAaron Mitchell, Human Wizard
A failed Vaspuccian engineer discovering his hidden powers and seeking the truth.

Reserves
Lodwilk - Striker
heysparky - Leader
samurai6966 - Leader
tzeentchling - Defender
3clipse - Striker
kuhlmeye - Controller

The World:


mainmapofthefantasy.th.png
The Story Thus Far:

The Private Venturing Company known as Wildlands Security has been contracted by the General of the First Legion, Thaco Garrus, to discover what happened to a special team of soldiers inserted into an island known as Sandstooth to destroy a terrorist training camp. The characters have arrived on Whitesands Port, the main town of For Talos island near Sandstooth in the Jumari Isles. They now try to contact Adrius Orrin, an Eye of Emperor and propietor of the local alehouse known as the Drinking Wharf. Will they find the team of Imperium soldiers? Can they discover what happened there? What dangers lurk on the mysterious island of Sandstooth? How could untrained separatists be so deadly? Will the Barbarian Kavaki ever find true love? Tune in next time and find out on... Legends of Novus!

Current SideQuests:

SideQuest: The Important Person
Reward: 200 XP
Type: Character Development


The goal of this achievement is to develop an important person in your character's life. This person can be a mother, father, a mentor, a good friend, a friendly tavernkeep. It must be someone that contribute meaningfully to the development of your character. To gain all the XP points that come with this, name the person and describe them. Give them a physical description, describe where they came from and why. What is their purpose in life? Why did they contribute to your character's life? Are they still alive? Are your character and the person still in contact? How would your character react if they saw them now?

SideQuest: The Organization
Reward: 200 XP
Type: World-building


The goal of this achievement is to develop an organization based in Greater Tamara (the main continent). It could be a guild, a society for the wealthy, a monastic order or a brotherhood of knights. Explain what the groups' alignment is and where they come from. What is their history? Why were they formed? What do they do now? How do you join the group? Who would join the group? What benefits are there to joining? What is their purpose? How do they interact with others, friendly or hostile to their purpose? Where do they fit into the world?

sig4.jpg
Talonrazor on
«13456

Posts

  • samurai6966samurai6966 Registered User
    edited September 2009
    I have a dwarf Cleric you might like. Question is: What gods do you have? Are they in the Campaign Guide?

    Echo wrote: »
    Yeah, some times I just want to get my farm in shape without being bothered by green explosive dildos.
  • TalonrazorTalonrazor Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    The cosmology, factions, race backgrounds and basic history of the world can be found in the campaign guide, yea.

    sig4.jpg
  • samurai6966samurai6966 Registered User
    edited September 2009
    Jabez of Sorrow, Dwarf Cleric of the Raven Queen

    Background Story:
    Found as a baby by followers of the Raven Queen under the Tree of a Thousand Sorrows, the place were people found guilty of necromancy are killed, Jabez was raised in a monastery to the Raven Queen in Drakehome. He trained to be a cleric and was found to be surprisingly strong and thought to be very blessed by the Raven Queen. He only had one friend, an eladrin named Aya, also a cleric. Together they became a strong team and held a close bond. But one dark day, Jabez's world crashed around him. During a fight against a small force of undead, Aya was fatally wounded. In a rage, Jabez destroyed the rest of the undead, only to hear the last breaths leave her body. He cried until dusk when a mysterious stranger appeared to him.
    "She looks almost dead, my son" said the Stranger. "She is." The words could barely leave his lips. "No, she is almost dead. I can still see her soul hanging on. She isn't ready to leave you." Jabez was shocked. "No, I learned that the soul leaves the body as soon as death grabs the body. She's been dead for hours"
    The stranger laugh. It sounded dark, dry. Not that Jabez cared, or noticed. "No, you been brainwashed by the Raven idiots. So many have died too soon because of her false teachings. No, she hangs on. I can help her. If you let me..." "If she isn't dead, and you can help, please save her" More tears began to gather in his eyes. He watched as the stranger took from his bag 5 black candles. He placed them in star shape around Aya's body. One by one, he lit the candles, their flames coming to life in a strange and scary dark green light. The stranger began to move around Aya, chanting and spinning in circles. To Jabez, the air became colder, the night darker. The stranger moved faster, the chanting sounding like a thousand people instead of one. Then the candles blow out. All became quite. Jabez moved to Aya. Aya moved to him.
    Then attacked him. In the full moon, Jabez saw not Aya. He saw something worst. He was afraid. Unable to attack, to defend. He knew at once what he had done. This wasn't Aya. Those hands was no longer hers. Those eyes showed no kindness, only hunger. As Jabez slipped unconscious, he only wished that the Raven Queen would show mercy to Aya's soul.

    Day broke, and to Jabez's surprise, he wasn't dead. His wounds were deep and many still bled but he could move slowly. As he made his way to the monastery, he hear voices. "The traitor, Jabez of Sorrow, created that monster that we saw last night. He talked to Varog, god of the undead himself, to bring a fallen warrior, Aya of the Wind, back to life. Now her morphed body of a demon killed 6 followers of the Queen. He must be brought to justice. Find him and his undead creation. Kill Aya, but bring him alive. He must be tried." With no place to go, Jabez traveled to the near by town, hoping to find a way to redeem himself and hid from the Raven Queen's followers.

    Personality:
    Jabez believes that death is final, and that nothing should break that flow of life. He is a hard, stern man who tries to find the good in all people. However, even he can see with a person can not be turned from their path of evil. Jabez says a pray to the Raven Queen for everyone who dies, good or evil. He believes that he shouldn't be the final judge on a person's life.

    The Winter Killer:
    "Do it. I am not going on. Do what it is that needs to be done. Let me pay for the sins." A tear rolled down his cheek. "Do it."
    Jabez looked at the man's eyes. "You have chosen a dark path. And you will pay for them." Jabez raised his warhammer above his head. The man lower his head. "DO IT!" cried the man. The hammer fell down with all the might Jabez could give it. It left a deep hole next to the man's head. The man looked up. "Wh.. Why?" "We all must live with our sins. And find forgiveness for them. You now stand at the beginning of the Road of Redemption. Will you walk it as I do? Or will you let your one life go to waste?" The man stared with disbelief. A second chance? No one have every even talk to him about it. Much less give it to him. "Here is a small bag of coin. You will go west. Take a new name. And never return here. Remember what I have given you. You can lose it just as quickly." The man ran. "Thank You, I will repay this ten fold one day! I promise! Thank You!" he shouted as he left the cave.

    Echo wrote: »
    Yeah, some times I just want to get my farm in shape without being bothered by green explosive dildos.
  • WeretacoWeretaco Cubicle Gangster Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    You know I'm in.. starting reading your stuff last night already.

    Unofficial PA IRC chat: #paforums at irc.slashnet.org
  • TalonrazorTalonrazor Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    Just to let you know, the Raven Queen is going to be a bit different here. She isn't the goth queen of death and fate that all the cool kids want to have sex with but rather she is more like Charon, the guide through purgatory. In this game she basically runs the land where souls await their final destination and guides a river of boats up and down a Styx-like river to the heavens or the hells. Most outside the Duchy call her the Stranger and she is considered an enigma.

    sig4.jpg
  • 3clipse3clipse I will build a labyrinth to house the cheese Labyrinths are awesome!Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    I'm totally interested. Gritty, dark, nasty games are the best.

    Question, though: you want level 6 characters, but I do not have a DDI subscription, and Character Builder is only free up to level 3. Would you accept a Mythweavers or Orokos sheet?

    XBL: R3clipse
    Steam: BIRD BIRD KILL IT
    Battle.net: Eclipse#1200
  • TalonrazorTalonrazor Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    Yes! I forgot, any sheet that details basic stats is fine. I will put that up in the OP.

    sig4.jpg
  • kuhlmeyekuhlmeye Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    I will be submitting a Vestige Pact Half-Elf Warlock whenever I get the time to write up a full background and personality.

    PSN: the-K-flash
  • WeretacoWeretaco Cubicle Gangster Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    As per your request.

    I'm leaning towards a Genasi Invoker.

    Unofficial PA IRC chat: #paforums at irc.slashnet.org
  • TalonrazorTalonrazor Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    Few things I forgot to note. Tomorrow, for DDI subscribers, Assassin heroic tier comes out. If someone want to roll up this class and try it out, with the provision of playing something else if they don't like it, they can.

    For people planning on playing arcane users: These characters are going to require some special playing. In most of the civilized kingdoms, being Nuemar, Pascony, Arastille, Mynoth and so on, use of magic will draw considerable attention. Most likely the character will be arrested and branded a heretic or even hunted down by powerful government forces. Think of playing an arcane user as kinda like a Jedi in the age of the Empire or something. I am not discouraging arcane users, you guys will probably want one or two for sure, but I am pointing out that I am going to be looking for people to play that aren't afraid of a bit of roleplaying.

    Several people have asked me where the game will be starting. The first adventure will see you guys travel to a small island of the Jumari chain in the employ the Imperium. A general has hired the company to see what happened to a team of soldiers the Imperium dispatched on a black ops mission to destroy a terrorist camp. You guys are to infiltrate the island, rescue the knight that led the team, hide all evidence of Imperium intrusion and then call in a gryphon airstrike from an aviary carrack stationed over the horizon.

    Also, someone should play an Artificer because they are awesome. Just sayin'.

    sig4.jpg
  • ElfWordElfWord Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    I'm looking at submitting a Human Warden, Thoth, a 37 year old experienced outdoorsman.

    Born and raised in Kursk, his mother died giving birth to him; a woman well-loved by his village, her death was more than a tragedy, and regard by many as a bad omen for her son. He spent much of his time in youth exploring the mountains around his village, Cyresk. As a young man he joined the army, where his special talents helped him gain a position as bodyguard for Border Watch Legion Commanders. He protected them from orcish sneak attacks, hitmen hired by various Lords of Tothdain maneuvering for power, and vengeful pirates from the Northern Knife.

    For 9 years he served, until he received word his father was ill. Returning home, he endured his father's death, made bearable only by the love he found for and was returned by Marissa, his father's nurse. Not feeling comfortable in Cyresk, they moved to a small town further in the south, Hearthesk. For 7 years, he lived in peace with his wife, and then a son, in Hearthesk... until the slavers came.

    Posing as merchants, a half-orc and companions had stayed in town for a week, taking note of the prettiest women. Striking in the night, they badly wounded Thoth, leaving him unconscious and bleeding. He woke to find his son murdered, and his wife, like the wives and daughters of many others in the village, taken.

    With nine others, Thoth tracked the slavers for months across the Dausmarks. Finally finding a well-fortified camp at the edge of the Wildwoods, Thoth's group waited until a caravan of slavers departed from their base, heading to civilized lands to sell their slaves. Stalking them until they camped for the first night, still so close to home they carelessly felt safe, the Hearthesk band attacked, fighting a brutal battle leaving all of the slavers dead, and only 4 of the Hearthesk band alive, including Thoth.

    Thoth's wife, Marissa, was alive, but... damaged. Her mind was broken, switching between periods of frantic panic and unresponsive quietude. They freed all of the slaves, and travelled to Dugar to seek refuge from the dwarves in the city of Tug. While his companions prepared for a journey home, Thoth bade them farewell, and took Marissa on a journey to the Spiral Tower city in Cir, hoping someone there could heal her mind.

    For a year and a half, Thoth has tried to help his wife to no avail. Finally, as costs of care, attempted cures, and accommodations mounted, Thoth gave all his remaining money to a trustworthy abbey for use in taking care of Marissa, promising to send more for its continuance. Leaving her in their able hands, he began life again as a wanderer and adventurer, wary of making strong ties with others, and seeking always the next fortune that might bring health back to a woman he still loved, though that life was far away.

    Star Wars fan, Battlestar crewman, Fantastic GM. Frequent lurker, occasional adventurer.
    Awesome android RPGs are made by my friends; check them out.
  • samurai6966samurai6966 Registered User
    edited September 2009
    Does the Raven Queen still hate the undead and anyone who practices necromancy?

    Echo wrote: »
    Yeah, some times I just want to get my farm in shape without being bothered by green explosive dildos.
  • SimpsonsParadoxSimpsonsParadox Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    Golaith Whip Warden, coming up.

  • TalonrazorTalonrazor Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    Does the Raven Queen still hate the undead and anyone who practices necromancy?

    The undead, ghosts, necromancy etc are souls who have escape the river. They owe the Stranger their souls and she intends to collect. Of course, a soul is a soul, at least to her. Her followers, especially in Ravenshire, tend to war directly on the undead as the Ravenshire followers are zealously anti-necromancy and the undead. But Ravenshire's practices and teachings are not always directly from the Raven Queen. Religions can get distorted and twisted by those who need it. So, keep that in mind.

    sig4.jpg
  • samurai6966samurai6966 Registered User
    edited September 2009
    Talonrazor wrote: »
    Does the Raven Queen still hate the undead and anyone who practices necromancy?

    The undead, ghosts, necromancy etc are souls who have escape the river. They owe the Stranger their souls and she intends to collect. Of course, a soul is a soul, at least to her. Her followers, especially in Ravenshire, tend to war directly on the undead as the Ravenshire followers are zealously anti-necromancy and the undead. But Ravenshire's practices and teachings are not always directly from the Raven Queen. Religions can get distorted and twisted by those who need it. So, keep that in mind.

    This is getting even better. I feel like this is based off Greek mythology, which isn't a bad thing.

    Echo wrote: »
    Yeah, some times I just want to get my farm in shape without being bothered by green explosive dildos.
  • NotoriusBENNotoriusBEN Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    Talonrazor wrote: »
    That said, if you like stuff like goblin sky pirates
    Talonrazor wrote: »
    Also, someone should play an Artificer because they are awesome. Just sayin'.

    I would submit Remmy from Monster Party!, but he is still alive and well in that campaign.

    Ill write up some stuff to make Xeric Carter, my other artificer, fit in to this campaign.

    notoriusben_zpsa205e831.png
  • TalonrazorTalonrazor Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    Talonrazor wrote: »
    Does the Raven Queen still hate the undead and anyone who practices necromancy?

    The undead, ghosts, necromancy etc are souls who have escape the river. They owe the Stranger their souls and she intends to collect. Of course, a soul is a soul, at least to her. Her followers, especially in Ravenshire, tend to war directly on the undead as the Ravenshire followers are zealously anti-necromancy and the undead. But Ravenshire's practices and teachings are not always directly from the Raven Queen. Religions can get distorted and twisted by those who need it. So, keep that in mind.

    This is getting even better. I feel like this is based off Greek mythology, which isn't a bad thing.

    The old gods are based off of dualistic beliefs and Greek and Norse Mythology, yes. Anigun are based off of Aztec and Mayans while the Faith is based off of, easily enough, Catholic Church. The gods are getting more distant in this setting, so a lot of these beliefs can get twisted one way or the other. One thing I am going to push is that while D&D 4E may say that "this is the concrete cosmology", this setting shows that sometimes things are different then people have been taught.

    sig4.jpg
  • SuperRuperSuperRuper Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    Dude. This sounds awesome. I like the gritty feel and the premise. Just one question.

    How would the whole gun thing work? Basically like a Bow?

  • SimpsonsParadoxSimpsonsParadox Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    A quick question on the Kingdom of Miraz:

    They don't allow non-believers into their main city, not their island, right? I'm planning on having my Golaith having moved onto the plains sometime early in his life, but he worships The Great Bear rather than Somtaaw. Would that be a problem?

  • TalonrazorTalonrazor Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    Still developing firearm rules. Most likely, firearms will be rare and work somewhat like a crossbow. Goblin guns might blow up in your hands, a dwarven hand cannon packs a big punch but takes forever to load, Vaspuccian guns might be repeaters and accurate. I am looking over various house rules and we'll probably use something like DiceMonkey's rules. However, don't be surprised if I radically alter the rules in the middle of playing. Depending on what you guys think of them and how they handle we'll be tweaking them around.

    Also, as a side note for you guys, magic items will be a lot rarer then normal. We might even switch to DMG2's rules on low-magic games (bonus to attack, defense). Just a forewarning. I do plan to have some magic items but a good chunk will be repurposed (the clockwork armor and other refluffs).

    SP: Yea, Miraz is kinda like the North Korea of the world. If your character isn't an ardent follower of Somtaaw, he probably won't come from the island unless he was a slave or somesuch. Most likely, that character would hail from places like Volk, on the D'yini plains (way in the north, in Tothdain valley) or somewhere else closer to the wild. And as another note, Elfword's gonna be playing in the game for sure (old gaming buddy of mine) with a Warden, so you might want to consider some other kind of primal character. Two defenders will work, they just might want to focus on different class roles and powers...

    sig4.jpg
  • NotoriusBENNotoriusBEN Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    Having read about the warforged and humans, I have a question Talon.

    Would it be possible to have a relationship between a couple of PCs like Ed and Alphonse Elric from Full Metal Alchemist? nothing to do with alchemy or even close to the story of the anime, just a couple of PCs with a past that turned one of them into a warforged.

    If talon green lights the idea, I'd be happy to work on a dual background with someone through PM's.

    notoriusben_zpsa205e831.png
  • SuperRuperSuperRuper Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    Yeah this looks real good. I'm thinking of drawing up a dwarf character (my first). He'll most likely be carrying a boomstick. Regardless of the rules.

  • SimpsonsParadoxSimpsonsParadox Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    Talonrazor wrote: »
    SP: Yea, Miraz is kinda like the North Korea of the world. If your character isn't an ardent follower of Somtaaw, he probably won't come from the island unless he was a slave or somesuch. Most likely, that character would hail from places like Volk, on the D'yini plains (way in the north, in Tothdain valley) or somewhere else closer to the wild. And as another note, Elfword's gonna be playing in the game for sure (old gaming buddy of mine) with a Warden, so you might want to consider some other kind of primal character. Two defenders will work, they just might want to focus on different class roles and powers...


    Hmmm, alright. I'll go with a Barbarian then. Not too much change from how I was going to play him, I'll just have him worship a different animal spirit. Thanks for the info!

  • ElfWordElfWord Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    I'll try to get my Warden statted out late tonight or early tomorrow. He's most likely going to be more of a controller than a striker, as secondary roles go, and more of a wisdom-of-the-mountains character than a dedicated combatant. The combat powers he chooses will be cold-related when available.

    Star Wars fan, Battlestar crewman, Fantastic GM. Frequent lurker, occasional adventurer.
    Awesome android RPGs are made by my friends; check them out.
  • tzeentchlingtzeentchling Doctor of Rocks San DiegoRegistered User regular
    edited September 2009
    Sounds like this might be fun. Will definitely think of contributing a character to this after reading the campaign guide.

  • AzegorothAzegoroth Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    Will post a Dragonborn paladin after I have enough time to do a full writeup.

  • TalonrazorTalonrazor Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    Having read about the warforged and humans, I have a question Talon.

    Would it be possible to have a relationship between a couple of PCs like Ed and Alphonse Elric from Full Metal Alchemist? nothing to do with alchemy or even close to the story of the anime, just a couple of PCs with a past that turned one of them into a warforged.

    If talon green lights the idea, I'd be happy to work on a dual background with someone through PM's.

    Nah, Warforged are basically clockwork constructs with full AI. The "organs" thing is merely used to describe how they think and their ability to get diseases, etc.

    Also, as a reminder, I only consider a character offically "app'd" when they have stats, a history and description and a response to the scenario. When recruitment is over I'll go through and select characters that are the best fits, well-written and interesting. A couple of slots are already taken (tac0, Elfword, a playtest of a character class) so there are only really three or four slots open. However, reserves are more then welcome if someone has to drop out of the campaign for some reason.

    sig4.jpg
  • RainfallRainfall If you do not repay me, I will RECLAIM the ball.Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    Right, unless I can get this mechanics quandary solved I'll probably be waiting until tomorrow for the Assassin, but for now I'm writing up a Revenant ex-Changeling who wants to take down the Fraternity due to half-scattered memories of betrayal by them.

    It should be neat. I just need to, y'know, find mechanics that fit. :D

    UlfreBY.png
  • SimpsonsParadoxSimpsonsParadox Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    A quick question: Without magical items, do we still pick a level 5/6/7 + gold item and just reflavor them?

  • TalonrazorTalonrazor Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    For now, go ahead and take those items and reflavor one or two, yea. I am still debating in my mind if I want to do a low-magic item game with DMG2 or not. We may end up changing that depending on what everyone feels like later on but let's proceed as normal.

    sig4.jpg
  • JacquesCousteauJacquesCousteau Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    Harod Swanbane, the Crow of Swadia

    mfr232.jpg

    Description

    A scar for each of his lovers and for each of his lost fortunes, Harod's skin is a rugged map of his many experiences. Except for his short cropped hair, Harod does his best to follow the land's fashions while always keeping his weapons close at hand. He is of impressive stature and his body is a solidly built weapon, lithe and powerful.

    His sword hand is oft quicker than his common sense and Harod is easily goaded and frustrated. At the same time, he is immensely loyal to those he considers friends and tries to avoid endangering them. Opulent, but without respect for the preening nobility, Harod lives quickly and dangerously, looking for the thrill of the moment.

    Background

    Though he spits at the name, Harod was born into a noble family in Swadia whose lineage boasted many famed Knights of the Order of the Swan. Born alongside a twin sister, Ledia, Harod was the second son of his family and struggled in his older brother's shadow during their childhood. Following his brother's path through early education and training for the knighthood, Harod seemed doomed to continuously fall short of the standard set by his brother.

    In his teens, after a few ill-fated affairs, Harod was forced into a marriage after one of his romances with the daughter of another noble family bore a child. Suddenly a family man, Harod's luck worsened as he was recommended for one of the lesser knightly orders of Swadia by his instructors. Before he was to be moved with his family out of the comfortable family home to some far off place to be sworn into the knighthood, Harod left Swadia.

    Leaving the dowry behind so his family wouldn't go poor, Harod left with little more than his horse, his weapons and the clothes on his back. Seeking adventure in the rest of Novus, he has been travelling ever since.

    Attachments

    Although Harod never wanted to marry, he still checks in on his son and wife through his twin sister Ledia every few years. Him and Ledia are also very close but she is the only person he considers to be his family. News of his brother's role in the raising of his son is disturbing but Harod claims no role in the boy's life, knowing that he made his choice long ago.

    Response
    The cold winter wind bit hard as it howled down the walls of Dronomer. The snow crunches under your feet. You had tracked the murderer all the way to Kursk. He had to be here. The noble that hired you had told you he was dangerous, a crazy peasant who had murdered the noble's son right in front of him and then two guards who tried to stop him. He had fled north and you chased. For miles upon miles, you had chased him. Finally, he was cornered. He had to be. There was no where else to run. The snow swirled around you and the cold nipped at you. You spied a figure against the wall, limping. You clutched the weapon tighter, the wound you had dealt him earlier had taken its toll. A thin smattering of blood was here and there on the white snow. You drew closer to him and he finally stopped his hobble and slowly turned to you, throwing up his arms.

    "I can't do this anymore, I can't. I can't go on, I'm tired, I'm worn out from this. I'm done. I've done the deed I needed to do. That... that swine took my home from me. He took it away from me and he paid for what he did. They say its their right, that they get to pick but I killed him anyways. I killed them and I would kill them again if I could." He sank to his knees in the snow. "Do it. I am not going on. Do what it is that needs to be done. Let me pay for the sins." A tear rolled down his cheek. "Do it."

    Drawing his short sword, Harod paces through the snow in front of the cowering peasant, the white stuff crunching under his feet. He says to the man, "I have no love for the nobility myself but do you really believe a son for a house is a fair trade?" The rogue sighs and stops his pacing, tapping his foot in the snow.

    After a few moments deliberation he turns back to the peasant, gesturing with his sword as he talks, "I will not kill a man in cold blood. However, you have done a heinous thing and for that you should pay. So here is my deal," he draws a dagger from its sheathe at his side and tosses it point first into the snow. "If you truly want to die then you will take up this dagger and I will spill your blood honorably. I have a feeling that you know a thing or two about combat judging by those two guards you killed. The other option is of course, that I take you back to the city for whatever punishment is deemed just. It is up to you, friend."

    steam_sig.png
  • SimpsonsParadoxSimpsonsParadox Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    Kavaki Yuthr, Goliath Barbarian

    Backround

    I remember.

    I remember waking up in the hut. The large elven house to my left. The walk up the pristine steps. The yes sirs and no ma'ams and the laundry. The fights. I was being raised for fighting. As a guard or a gladiator, I do not know. The degradation. I wasn't Elven. I wasn't Human. My people had fought with Dwarves. I was a stain.

    I remember waking up in the hut. The large burning elven house to my left. The walking up the blood stained steps. The by the spirits and the by the maker and the brains on the wall. The fights. I was fighting the Dwarves. They were fighting us. They were fighting the Elves. They didn't care that we were slaves. They wanted us dead.

    I remember my first punch delivered in anger. I remember grabbing his gun. It went off. The Dwarf didn't get up. I used it like a club. I was surrounded by dead. I wanted none of it.

    I remember the forest. Of finding my Mother and Father both safe and away from the burning house. How I spent days prostrated, thanking the Earth Mother, The Great Bear, and The Grey Wolf for protecting them, seeing them through, and allowing us to be free.

    I remember seeing the fields. Long stretches of yellow grass. I couldn't believe it. There had to be trees. There had to be houses. There had to be people who would put us back into shackles. There couldn't be just us.

    There wasn't anyone else. There was just us.

    I remember running through the grass. Small huts on my left. A beaten path. A tree with purple fruit. Of wishing that everyone could know this joy. Everyone could feel the wind. Everyone could feel the joy. The warmth.

    I remember slavers. They came at us. We came at them. We stood. They fell. And I knew I couldn't stay here forever.

    I remember the city. Huge houses everywhere. Dwarves screaming at Elves. Elves screaming at Dwarves. Blows. The city square erupted. Of wanting to live. Of pushing past the dying, the dead, and those who brought death. Of throwing a Dwarf at an Elf. Of breaking a gun. Of hiding in an ally. A human shopkeeper hurrying me into his basement. Of the shared bread as we waited for the fighting to subside. Of the thanks given, the thanks received. My faith restored.

    I remember fighting. A gnarled yellow tree in the foreground. Fellow fighters in the backround. A smattering of demons in my sights. A few last remnants. My sword. Their head. Our victory.

    I remember more slavers. The elves had survived. Were searching for their property. They were searching for me. A roar. I left. They didn't.

    I remember my youth. Of hiding books. Being hit for reading. For learning. For *knowledge*. I remember yesterday. The library. Books a thousand. No one to hit me. No one to stop me. Knowledge at my disposal. Of thanking the spirits.

    I remember the others. The book in my hand. The glint in their eyes.

    I remember.


    Appearance

    Most people who frequent libraries don't exactly fit into the 'Tall, Strong, and fit to kill' category, but Kavaki seems to be the exception. His blue skin is marred by slight rocky outcroppings on his shoulders, head, and hands. A small pair of reading glasses stand pressed up against the bridge of his nose, but they, as well as the book that he will inevitably have in his hand, disappear once there is any sign of conflict.

    Mannerisms

    Kavaki is polite to a fault. Raised as a slave to an elven household, he is acutely aware of all of the social norms and stigmas associated with them. Deep down, Kavaki knows that the entire Elven race and the entire Dwarven race aren't bad people, just there are some extremists who are evil; however, he sometimes finds it hard to believe that voice, especially when confronted with extremism. He always has a nose buried in a book, although his ability to read is still in its infancy.

    Char stuff

    Click on my name. It has the stuff. Re flavoring of weapons follows:

    Bloodclaw Weapon: A long, gleaming sword that, with the press of a button, will stick out several spikes. These are usually boons in combat, but, due to the size of Kavaki's hands, these sometimes cut him when they extend.

    Amulet of Protection: A single amulet carrying the portrait of his mother and father.

    Deathcut Armor: Armor crafted of the hides of Stone Lions. Guards very well against things such as poison and other life draining forces.

    Wildrunners: Boots crafted out of the grass near Kavaki's home, reinforced with the hide of several local animals.

    Response

    Kavaki squats down and stares face to face with the peasant. He stares at the peasant for several seconds, unblinking, before finally reaching into his pack and pulling out a book. He opens it to the correct page, and laboriously begins to read, stumbling every few seconds over a word but still managing to make it through mostly intact.

    "...and the great Earth Mother watches over all of us. She is everywhere. Always haunted and attacked...but always guarded. Always secure in the knowledge that should those who wish harm to all attack her, that she will have someone to call to."

    He pulls his head out from the book. "I have faith. I have faith in the Earth Mother, The Great Bear, and The Grey Wolf. I have faith in my sword. I am learning to have faith in my thoughts."

    Kavaki stands up and hands the book to the peasant. "I also have faith in all. Faith that the correct thing will be done. Faith in those companions that chose to work with me, and faith in those that chose not to. Do you not have faith? I have been held by those in power. I have been a slave. And yet I still have faith. Faith that the noble would of changed his mind should you have let him see the error in his ways. Faith that, should he not of changed his mind, that others would rise up with you. Faith that in the end, you would be rewarded for your patience. Not rewarded in gold, though. Rewarded in heart. Rewarded with justice."

    Kavaki sheathes his sword, and picks up the frail man. He slings him over his shoulder and sets off. He is quiet for several moments before talking to the now restrained man.

    "I have faith. I have faith that the next several villages over will have a fair justice system. You should learn to have faith too."

    He walks off, the snow hiding his tracks.

    -edit- Thanks, Rainfall, for giving my character a dressing down; I've added another line to the backround. He also has a last name now. Not my fault if it sucks.

  • TalonrazorTalonrazor Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    Fucking ace background Simpson, that's the kind of shit I am looking for. :^:

    Just a reminder, please give two of three sentences of what your various characters would do in scenario outlined in the OP!

    sig4.jpg
  • 3clipse3clipse I will build a labyrinth to house the cheese Labyrinths are awesome!Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    Dude, I can't make a barbarian now. I just can't compete with that shit. Holy god man.

    XBL: R3clipse
    Steam: BIRD BIRD KILL IT
    Battle.net: Eclipse#1200
  • KilmKilm Registered User
    edited September 2009
    Comighan Half-Elf Sorcerer.


    Background

    The Red God smiles upon me.

    When they took me, from the Orphanage near the Greenbelt, took me to be a Pascony baron's plaything, The Red God smiled upon me. A loose lantern on a stormy sea, and there they were, the flames of my salvation.

    Taken in by the druids, they raised me, but a druid I was not to be. Though they could sense my power, they could not know the flames within. Our teacher, the one we trusted, betrayed me. Laid his hands upon her, the jewel of my youth, the ember of my days in Tuatha.

    That is when the flames called to me, and I burned him and his sacred grove to the ground. Of course I could not stay, they hate the flames, the slayer of their beloved trees.

    Out I headed, I did not care where. The flames still burned, and they almost consumed me, for I was young and prideful, and I slew the first fat merchant halfling I came across, not caring what happened after that. My savior again was The Red God, his Beacon was there to save me, hide me, heal my wounds and set me on the path. The path of fire, of flames, of blazing wonders. The Lake of Fire is my destination, someday.


    But like any true fire, the path to my destiny needs kindling first, and the sparks must be carefully shepherded. Guarded against a cruel wind, or careless drops that would extinguish the birth of a raging wildfire. The time of fire has not yet come, I yet still lay the kindling, piece by piece, waiting for the spark. But I must be careful, the time must be right, the fuel must be ready, before a flame can take off.

    But the flames will come, someday.



    Response

    The cold winter wind bit hard as it howled down the walls of Dronomer. The snow crunches under your feet. You had tracked the murderer all the way to Kursk. He had to be here. The noble that hired you had told you he was dangerous, a crazy peasant who had murdered the noble's son right in front of him and then two guards who tried to stop him. He had fled north and you chased. For miles upon miles, you had chased him. Finally, he was cornered. He had to be. There was no where else to run. The snow swirled around you and the cold nipped at you. You spied a figure against the wall, limping. You clutched the weapon tighter, the wound you had dealt him earlier had taken its toll. A thin smattering of blood was here and there on the white snow. You drew closer to him and he finally stopped his hobble and slowly turned to you, throwing up his arms.

    "I can't do this anymore, I can't. I can't go on, I'm tired, I'm worn out from this. I'm done. I've done the deed I needed to do. That... that swine took my home from me. He took it away from me and he paid for what he did. They say its their right, that they get to pick but I killed him anyways. I killed them and I would kill them again if I could." He sank to his knees in the snow. "Do it. I am not going on. Do what it is that needs to be done. Let me pay for the sins." A tear rolled down his cheek. "Do it."



    Walking slowly towards the peasant, Comighan crouches next to him, "And kill him you should have." He leans closer and places a friendly hand on his back. "I would have done the same, you see. But the baron will give much to see you dead, and a chapel in a town such as his is worth a sacrifice." Comighan pauses for a second, looking around to make sure no one else is out on such a vile night "May the flames cleanse you."

    A burst of fire erupts from the peasants chest.

    Standing, the flames slowly fading from his hand, he begins the work of bringing back proof of the peasants death.





    I've just about got a char sheet worked out. I hope I can use a magic user, I guess my idea being that after becoming a convert to The Red God Comighan has learned to control his temper and channel as well as hide his power. He goes into the world seeking to "Lay kindling" basically a sort of missionary.

  • TalonrazorTalonrazor Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    Ok, due to popular request on #criticalfailures, here is the Imperial Cult! Scientists and engineers of the Imperium, they are also fanatically religious!
    The Cult was founded by a group of archeologists and engineers of the Imperium who were in awe of Dwvemer artifacts and technology. These extremely loyal scientists grew to believe that technology is the only way for man to grow closer to god, who to them was their Emperor. Believing that the Emperor is the Eternal reincarnated in human form, the Cultists work reverently on their creations. The soul is cleansed and purified when one creates an artifact or piece of engineering, allowing a Cultist to gain more favor with the Emperor and thus with the Eternal.

    Cultist Temples are essentially large workshops and chemist –labs, devoted to the pursuit of science for the glory of the Imperium. An Imperial citizen enters the Cult at an early age, receiving training from a Seminary of the Cult in their area of study, be it chemistry or engineering or something else. Once graduated, the cultist becomes a Hand of the Cult. These are entry-level workers and engineers. A Hand must complete a useful new design that is deemed a truly holy work to become an Altarsmith. Altarsmiths are a mainstay of the Cult, true scientists devoted to their craft. A Prophet of Tek is an oversering of a Temple or a large project. The High Minister of the Cult oversees the organizations and sits on the Imperial Councils as an advisor to the Emperor.

    While many Emperors find the Cults devotion to them flattering, and useful, they quickly get tired of the numerous rites the Cult engages in or the immense stream of largely useless inventions. The Faith hates the Cult and it causes constant strife between the Revered Apostle and the High Minister, with the Emperor usually in the middle. The Emperor cannot risk offending either, as the Revered Apostle commands the respect of the masses while the High Minister is responsible for the flow of engineering and science that Nuemar relies on to dominate their enemies. The Cult is usually accused by Vaspuccia to rip off their ideas (only in a lesser quality form) but the Cult ignores these complaints, as Vaspuccia is a dangerous heretical nation that does not understand the true nature of design.

    There are rumors that the Cult is an engineered society by the Blades and Mouths to serve the Imperium but these are probably fake, as most citizens agree that the Imperial government would never stoop to such tactics.

    sig4.jpg
  • 3clipse3clipse I will build a labyrinth to house the cheese Labyrinths are awesome!Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    For your consideration: Kamahl Braidenson, Human Ranger

    Background
    "I used to idolize elves, you know. Incredibly graceful creatures, masters of all types of combat! The singers and crafters of legend who understand the truth to civilization!" He chuckles slightly and scratches his chin. "Funny what we believe when we're kids" he says, taking a long pull of ale from horn in his hand. "Mm. Good stuff. Dwarven. You know, the best dwarven ale I ever had....ahh, but that's not the story you asked for, is it. Fair enough." He becomes more somber now, and looks off into the distance.

    "I grew up in the woods. No other way to put it. My family lived out in the middle of nowhere with maybe 20 other people crazy enough to actually live way out in the backwater. There was me, my dad, and my mom. Had a sister, but she died her first winter. That's how it goes in places like that."

    He clears his throat and takes another sip of ale. "Life out there was a little boring, but pretty idyllic by most peoples' standards. We hunted, we gathered what we could find, occasionally we even farmed a little; everyone in the community depended on each other. We even saw the occasional Wood Elf, but they didn't care for us much, and most of the village couldn't have cared less about them. I, of course, thought they were the greatest beings I had ever seen, but that was before the Moon Elves came."

    He spits, the water freezing on the snow. "7 of them, there were, maybe more. I was only 8 at the time. High off those damn crystals they love to take so much. So high, they didn't know where they were, or what they were doing. They wandered in, and next thing you know, the best trapper in the village was short a head. It just got worse from there."

    He shudders, slightly; you barely notice it. His voice grows colder. "They started raping and killing everyone they could see. Torched houses. Slaughtered penned animals. The folk fought back, but let's be honest, what does a hunter-gatherer have that's going to put a dent in a drugged-up Elf? Nothing. My father practically threw me towards the edge of the village. Just told me to run, and not stop. I was in shock. My heroes, my idols, destroying my village and hurting everyone I'd ever known. I ran. What else was I supposed to do?"

    "'Course, I don't know what actually happened to the village. Never went back there. Don't care to."

    "Anyway. I was running, seemed like forever, and I ran smack into a dwarf hiding into a bush. Tripped right over him. He tied me up and carried me back to his team before I knew what hit me. I thought they were going to kill me." He smiles, very slightly. "Didn't speak Dwarven yet. Turns out they'd been going to ambush the very party which had just spilled over into my village. I told 'em that, and they left me behind with one of their men while they went to slaughter the elves. And good riddance."

    He shakes his head wryly. "Well, turns out those dwarves were members of the Iron Arm, and having nowhere else to go and no knowledge of the outside world, I went and lived with them for awhile. They taught me how to survive, how to eek out an existence with the barest of resources. Wouldn't teach me how to fight though. Didn't want to 'give up Dwarven secrets.'" He snorts in amusement. "Because hitting someone with a hammer is such a great secret."

    "I left when I was 17. Wandered for awhile. Eventually I ran into a real shady character who called himself Blade. He's the one who taught me how to fight. Sword in each hand, target in front of me. He was a "high class assassin." Taught me some about that too, but I've never been much one for murdering heads of state. I prefer tracking prey that's difficult, or just having an out-and-out brawl. I followed him for awhile, and eventually he got himself killed. He never did know when to shut up" he says with a grin. "Well, this is getting long-winded, so let me wrap it up. So I'm 24 at this point, know how to fight, sneak, and survive, and I run into some of the Iron Arm again. The very dwarf, in fact, who tied me up. I got nothing better to do, so I do some jobs for them. Murder a couple dozen elves here, blow up an elven palace there, standard terrorist stuff. I never joined the organization, they wouldn't allow it anyhow; I was more of a contractor, really."

    He grins a terrifying smile, the smile of a wolf chasing prey. "And it turns out, I'm real good at being a sword for hire. So now I do that full time, for anyone who wants it. Which is, incidentally, why the Imperium has contacted me with a job. I'm not partial who I work for, as long as there's money and a good time involved."

    "So now you've heard my story. I've told you all about myself. And now you know why I have to kill you. There's good money in it, and I have a reputation as someone who finishes jobs to maintain. I probably would've killed you anyway. You like elves too much."

    There is a soft swishing noise, like metal being drawn over cloth, and a lone figure topples to the ground, blood spewing from its neck. A cape flutters once in the darkness, and then there is only stillness.
    Mannerisms
    You ask him to tell you of great battles, heroic tales of valor. He looks at you strangely for a moment and bursts out laughing, patting you on the shoulder. "If you knew me at all, you wouldn't ask such a silly question. Do I look like a white knight?" he asks, and you must shrug and admit that no, he does not. He grins, a frightening, murderous grin.

    "I'm not cutthroat; I'm loyal to those who pay me, or those who might be useful to me. But I am not trusting, or valiant, or of any sort of high moral character." He notices you staring at his swords. "I am quite good with these, however" he says. You hear a whispering noise and he moves, faster than you've ever seen anyone move, his blades whirling. Two trees lose all their branches in the blink of an eye, and he stands where he stood only moments ago, not having moved for all appearances.

    Your mouth gapes open. "No, I won't teach you how to fight like me. The last thing I need is someone who can kill me running around."
    Appearance
    Tall and thin, but muscled. His body looks like a weapon. His hair is shaved down to black stubble, and his eyes are emerald green. His skin is tan and rugged.

    He wears black armor made from animal hides sewn together, with strange patches that protrude. When you poke one, it springs open, and a cluster of metal spines shoots out of a clockwork launcher. His bracers are iron and have tiny panels on top from which small blades shoot if he moves his hands in a certain way.

    Over his shoulder are two khopeshes, nearly identical. Both look murderously sharp, but one has a strange button on the hilt. You ask him what it is, and he grins and presses it. A small barb emerges from halfway up the blade, and it looks like if you were hit with it it would inject you with something. He tells you that it contains a strong paralytic toxin which is incredibly hard to make.

    You ask him about all the strange clockwork features of his weapons, and he shrugs and simply says "Dwarves" with a smile.

    A black cloak swirls around him, seemingly of its own volition.
    Response
    He laughs and grins. "Oh come now. I'll forgive you it this one time because you don't know me, but don't insult me like that. If I wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead."

    "No, I wanted to see what you would do. You see, that particular duke is a bad sort of man. He's a noble, sure, but his ethics are even worse than mine. I at least have the decency to kill people face to face, instead of taxing them to starvation."

    He pauses and squats down, looking his quarry in the face. "I didn't track you out here to kill you. I took this job to get closer to you. Most jobs that pay for kills, sure, I'll just do them, but most jobs don't ask me to go after the murderer of the son of a scumbag. Have you ever heard of some dwarves called the Iron Arm? You must have. The Imperium calls them terrorists, they call themselves avengers, I call them clients. I've done a fair bit of work for them, and I know quite a few. I also know that they're hiring right now, and if a person marked for death conveniently disappeared and turned up in a terrorist dwarf organization, well, that wouldn't be surprising. I can also tell you that they would most definitely appreciate the kind of person who, when shit on by a noble, responds by murdering that noble's family and retainers."

    He stands and offers a hand to the kneeling man, grinning again. "So. Want a job?"

    XBL: R3clipse
    Steam: BIRD BIRD KILL IT
    Battle.net: Eclipse#1200
  • interrobanginterrobang kawaii as  hellRegistered User regular
    edited September 2009
    artificer.jpg

    Background:
    Born smack dab in the middle of Nuemar, Shreya was the daughter of a whore and a poet, and she spent most of her early childhood raised in an opium den. Distracting herself from the pervasive debauchery of her surroundings through borrowed books and self-taught tinkering, her career - some would say her vocation - began when she was thirteen. A trade wagon broke down just outside her home, and when a passing member of the Imperial Cult saw the little elf girl repair its engine as professionally as any independent mechanic would, her place among the Cult was assured. The Altarsmith explained Shreya's gift to her parents as "the Spark", explaining her talent and her destiny; her parents heard it as "we'll get this brat out of your hair forever so you can get high whenever you want." Shreya advanced quickly in her education, being trained at the Seminary of Dwarven Engineering, and she became an Altarsmith at the comparably young age of twenty after discovering a new, superior method of tellerline manufacture. The high elf seemed well on her way to being ordained a Prophet of Tek...

    ... and then she got into the Imperial Archives. Generally considered off-limits to Hands and Altarsmiths, Shreya was granted limited access due to her natural skill. Awestruck by the ceiling-high piles of thick dusty tomes, her attention was drawn to a neatly-stacked sheaf of texts kept under thick glass. Closer examination revealed these to be ancient Dwvemer schematics, pages and pages of plans for wondrous technology the likes of which the world had not seen for centuries. "We have to build these! Think of how these devices could serve Nuemar!" she would protest to the Prophets. "No, child. They are holy relics to be revered, not picked apart for our own selfish use," they would reply. Shreya refused to accept this - if the Cult truly worshiped technology as they said they did, they would be more willing to learn from such relics. One early morning, before dawn, while all the Temple still slept, she smashed open the case with a well-placed hammer and fled, texts in hand, determined to ensure that the works detailed on these scrolls would see the light of day somehow.

    It's been five years since then, and Shreya has come a long way. A handful of the texts have revealed their secrets to her, and she's built herself a nice little personal arsenal of Dwvemer weaponry. To help keep herself safe from the restless agents of the Cult that hunt her to this day to recover their property, she's spent the better part of half a year traveling with a private mercenary company under the leadership of a Pasconian halfling. "Wildlands Security", as they call themselves, have a few jobs under their belt and despite her best efforts Shreya is honestly starting to enjoy the work.

    Mannerisms:
    Shreya is a thinker; she scrutinizes and analyzes and theorizes everything, which often causes her to second-guess her decisions... but she's just as prone to second-guess anyone else she's with, which lends itself well to planning and logistics. She's managed to avoid most of the trappings of high elf arrogance, but the key word here is "most". She has an insufferable habit of drumming her fingers on things when she's brainstorming, and is an accomplished pen-twirler.

    Character Sheet:
    ====== Created Using Wizards of the Coast D&D Character Builder ======
    Shreya, level 6
    Eladrin, Artificer
    Build: Battlesmith Artificer
    Arcane Implement Proficiency: Arcane Implement Proficiency (heavy blade group)
    Background: Occupation - Artisan (Athletics class skill)

    FINAL ABILITY SCORES
    Str 13, Con 17, Dex 12, Int 19, Wis 11, Cha 8.

    STARTING ABILITY SCORES
    Str 13, Con 16, Dex 10, Int 16, Wis 11, Cha 8.


    AC: 21 Fort: 18 Reflex: 18 Will: 16
    HP: 54 Surges: 9 Surge Value: 13

    TRAINED SKILLS
    Religion +12, Arcana +14, Heal +8, Perception +8, History +14, Athletics +8

    UNTRAINED SKILLS
    Acrobatics +3, Bluff +2, Diplomacy +2, Dungeoneering +3, Endurance +5, Insight +3, Intimidate +2, Nature +3, Stealth +3, Streetwise +2, Thievery +3

    FEATS
    Artificer: Ritual Caster
    Level 1: Weapon Proficiency (Bastard sword)
    Level 2: Focused Expertise (Bastard sword)
    Level 4: Armor Proficiency (Chainmail)
    Level 6: Arcane Implement Proficiency

    POWERS
    Artificer at-will 1: Static Shock
    Artificer at-will 1: Magic Weapon
    Artificer encounter 1: Scouring Weapon
    Artificer daily 1: Icebound Sigil
    Artificer utility 2: Swift Mender
    Artificer encounter 3: Repulsion Strike
    Artificer daily 5: Corrosive Sigil
    Artificer utility 6: Regeneration Infusion

    ITEMS
    Ritual Book, Cloak of Distortion +1, Reproachful Bastard sword +2, Adventurer's Kit, Imposter's Chainmail +2, Couters of Second Chances (heroic tier), Crossbow Bolts (40), Hand Crossbow
    RITUALS
    Brew Potion, Disenchant Magic Item, Enchant Magic Item, Make Whole, Pyrotechnics
    ====== Copy to Clipboard and Press the Import Button on the Summary Tab ======

    Response:
    Shreya stares down at the man through impassive blue eyes, the wind whipping her hair and her cloak, flecks of snow clinging to her hair and cheeks. "Let me pay for the sins," he says. "Do it." For a moment, she hesitates - she knows that Kursk is not Nuemar, but her Imperian ideals of justice still ring true. The noble wants the man brought back alive, ostensibly so that he may go to trial and meet his proper fate... but Shreya does not believe it. She knows he will be punished, tortured. The high elf spends a few seconds considering her options, and then the little tiny voice in the back of her head speaks up. Don't forget, girl - you yourself said you were looking for something to test that blade on.

    Shreya tightens her grip on the weapon and gives the hilt a twist; there is a loud whirr and a gout of steam erupts from the sword's pommel. You get your field test and this poor lout gets put out of his misery. Everyone wins. The whirring in the weapon's rain guard grows louder, and the blade begins to glow a dull orange; when flakes of snow fall upon the flat of it, they instantly evaporate, going up in little puffs of vapor. The man lowers his head, sobs once, and then she takes the swing. The superheated blade seperates his head from his body, leaving a cauterized stump at the top of his neck. She sighs as her weapon cools, and she slides it back into its scabbard. Adequate. Needs to get hotter. Padding over, she bends down and picks up the disembodied head by the hair, carrying it back towards Dronomer.

  • tzeentchlingtzeentchling Doctor of Rocks San DiegoRegistered User regular
    edited September 2009
    Nimor Actiniar, Genasi Swordmage:

    Background:
    I was raised by my parents, both fishermen, in Aenir. Yes, the famed underwater city, I see you've heard of it. He laughs. Oh, but I've seen yet more fantastical places in my travels... but that is yet another story, many stories in fact. I doubt you have coin to cover my drink for all the stories I could tell! I suppose for a landlubber such as yourself Aenir would be pretty fascinating. Coral furniture, glowfish lights, and of course our seahorse mounts. No I'm not joking, would I kid? He grins playfully. Nevertheless, I was bored with my life. Whatever the gods made the Genasi for, it wasn't just to be fishermen!

    Upon reaching age, I hired passage to the Khorellian Isles. Where better, thought I, to find adventure and excitement, travel the world and learn what I can of the gods and our destiny? There's nothing better than being on board a ship as a storm's brewin, lightning flashing all around, thunder boomin, and waves high as the Silver Tower itself! Now, the Khorellians are vicious, violent, swearin-an'-drinkin' sons of bitches - and not a better group of men will you find! He laughs again, boisterously. Where do you think I learned my skills from? Yeah, I'm a harrier, walking the Razor Steps. O' course, I got a few tricks up my sleeve that enhance their moves a bit.... He takes another long pull of his drink.

    So why am I out here? My best mate Keegan, one o' the harriers like me, well, we were ordered to find this little snit that killed this duke's son. Apparently he paid top dollar for our services, too, and worth every penny. Once we landed here in Kursk, we split up following different leads. Me, I'm hoping this guy puts up a fight - my blade's starting to get rusty.
    Mannerisms:
    Nimor is brash, headstrong, and lives for adventure - being out in the open air, or better yet on the rolling seas, is invigorating. Rakish in every sense of the word, he'll often dash into situations unconcerned of the odds, trusting in his skill with a sword to see him through. In fact, he relishes the chance to fight worthy opponents and move himself further along the Razor Steps. Of course, he'll follow orders and tactical concerns when directed as such - he is a trained mariner, after all. While outwardly friendly, he nevertheless can be slow to trust others until they have proven themselves to him in some way.
    Appearance:
    water_genasi.png
    Nimor likes to dress in loud colors, tending towards a sea-palate. While capable of being deadly serious, Nimor's cerulean eyes will often sparkle with some sort of inner lightning, particularly when he's excited. Corals and gems decorate rings on his fingers, none magical but flashy regardless. At his side sits a highly polished, well-used bastard sword with a pure sapphire set in its crosspiece, while slung on his back is a javelin tipped with the tooth of a giant shark. Around his waist is a belt of scales, taken from a mighty sea serpent as part of his initiation into the Razor Step path. He wears well-worn leather armor, cared for but obviously battle-tested, while about his neck is a locket containing a small piece of coral from his home.
    Response:
    Seriously, that's all you've got? You kill the Duke's son, then try to run and hide? What kind of a man are you? Not even going to stand and fight. By the twelve seas! And here the Duke thought you were some sort of master assassin. Total waste of his money and our time.

    Look, kid, you gotta understand. My partner and I, well, we gave our word we'd find you and bring you back. We're Khorellian harriers, and our word's our bond. Now, it can be dead, or alive. Personally, I'm leaning towards the latter - it'd be a lot easier to bring back proof of your death than your breathing waste of space body. But....

    Ah, damn it. Drink some of this, it'll give you strength. Not used to that, eh? It's Khorellian fire water, nip you right up. Listen, maybe I can work out a deal with this duke, tell him we're putting you to slave labor on our ships, worse than any punishment he can deal out. We'll make a man out of you yet, son. Now let's get going. Syril's tits, it's cold!
    Stats:
    ====== Created Using Wizards of the Coast D&DI Character Builder ======
    Nimor, level 6
    Genasi, Swordmage (Watersoul + Stormsoul)
    Build: Assault Swordmage
    Swordmage Aegis: Aegis of Assault
    Background: Occupation - Mariner

    FINAL ABILITY SCORES
    Str 19, Con 13, Dex 11, Int 19, Wis 8, Cha 10.

    Starting Ability Scores
    Str 16, Con 13, Dex 11, Int 16, Wis 8, Cha 10.


    AC: 24 Fort: 18 Reflex: 18 Will: 16
    HP: 58 Surges: 9 Surge Value: 14

    TRAINED SKILLS
    Arcana (+12), Endurance (+11), Athletics (+12), Intimidate (+12)

    UNTRAINED SKILLS
    Acrobatics (+3), Bluff (+3), Diplomacy (+3), Dungeoneering (+2), Heal (+2), History (+7), Insight (+2), Nature (+4), Perception (+4), Religion (+7), Stealth (+3), Streetwise (+3), Thievery (+3)

    FEATS
    1: Extra Manifestation (Stormsoul)
    2: Elemental Assault
    4: Weapon Proficiency (Bastard sword)
    6: Oncoming Storm

    POWERS
    1, At-Will: Lightning Lure
    1, At-Will: Booming Blade
    1, Encounter: Lightning Clash
    1, Daily: Frost Backlash
    2, Utility: Fear No Elements
    3, Encounter: Blastback Swipe
    5, Daily: Lingering Lightning
    6, Utility: Silversteel Veil

    ITEMS
    Veteran's Leather Armor +2, Lightning Bastard Sword +1, Cincture of the Dragon Spirit (heroic tier), Amulet of Resolution +1, Adventurer's Kit, Fine Clothing, Distance Javelin +1, 75 gp
    ====== Created Using Wizards of the Coast D&DI Character Builder ======
    Fingers crossed that I make it!

  • 3clipse3clipse I will build a labyrinth to house the cheese Labyrinths are awesome!Registered User regular
    edited September 2009
    Not to tell you how to play your character, but why did you take Weapon Proficiency (Bastard Sword) and then get a Broadsword as your weapon?

    XBL: R3clipse
    Steam: BIRD BIRD KILL IT
    Battle.net: Eclipse#1200
«13456
Sign In or Register to comment.