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D&D 4E: The Halls Of Tizun Thane (Recruitment)
Bogart
Streetwise HerculesRegistered User, Moderator mod
Streetwise HerculesRegistered User, Moderator mod
Tizun Thane is a mighty wizard, as cruel as he is cunning. He rose swiftly and surely to prominence, aided by a collection of magical mirrors that offered him ready access to many far lands and distant worlds. Soon Tizun amassed enough wealth and power to acquire a great palace in the wilderness, and there he dwelt with his extensive retinue.
Such are the tales you've heard on your way through the hills and forests of Shamutanti. Rumours of his power have spread far and wide, but recently you've heard whisperings of a change. Something has happened to him, but no-one is sure what.
This will be a PbP game, run by my gorgeous self for a party of five doughty adventurers. Signing up will take the form of a post, in character, detailing how your character met up with those who've already applied (your character sheet will be attached). So, the first guy to apply need only post his character concept and a brief IC bit of RP. The next guy will tell the (brief - a few paragraphs) story of how their character met up with the first one, and the next guy will tell how they met up with the first two and so on. Maybe the first two guys rescued you from an ambush, or broke you out of prison, or you all found each other in a bar fight. It's the sort of thing that ended up happening in SnakeGandhi's thread here.
Aside from the core books I've got Martial Power, the FR Players Guide and the Adventurers Vault, so Genasi, Swordmages and feats/powers, etc from those books are all fine and dandy. No Drow without a very good reason (your IC post better be fucking great), and nothing that's only on D&D Insider as a preview so far (i.e. Barbarians). Level 1 characters with the standard 22pt buy. Mythweavers sheet for preference.
If five people have already applied and you're the sixth (or seventh or eighth) feel free to write your entry as well, and I'll make an arbitrary deadline for when I'll decide who's in and who's out. If you're already in a PbP game on here and want in please give others a chance to apply first.
Party:
Anarchy - eladrin wizard sheet.
Prester John - eladrin warlord sheet.
Fiaryn - human swordmage sheet.
Probad - halfling rogue sheet.
Jam Warrior - dragonborn paladin sheet.
Dac - human warlock sheet.
Reserves:
Helix09 - human fighter sheet.
Araski - elf ranger sheet.
For GM reference IC campaign roll sheet.
Such are the tales you've heard on your way through the hills and forests of Shamutanti. Rumours of his power have spread far and wide, but recently you've heard whisperings of a change. Something has happened to him, but no-one is sure what.
This will be a PbP game, run by my gorgeous self for a party of five doughty adventurers. Signing up will take the form of a post, in character, detailing how your character met up with those who've already applied (your character sheet will be attached). So, the first guy to apply need only post his character concept and a brief IC bit of RP. The next guy will tell the (brief - a few paragraphs) story of how their character met up with the first one, and the next guy will tell how they met up with the first two and so on. Maybe the first two guys rescued you from an ambush, or broke you out of prison, or you all found each other in a bar fight. It's the sort of thing that ended up happening in SnakeGandhi's thread here.
Aside from the core books I've got Martial Power, the FR Players Guide and the Adventurers Vault, so Genasi, Swordmages and feats/powers, etc from those books are all fine and dandy. No Drow without a very good reason (your IC post better be fucking great), and nothing that's only on D&D Insider as a preview so far (i.e. Barbarians). Level 1 characters with the standard 22pt buy. Mythweavers sheet for preference.
If five people have already applied and you're the sixth (or seventh or eighth) feel free to write your entry as well, and I'll make an arbitrary deadline for when I'll decide who's in and who's out. If you're already in a PbP game on here and want in please give others a chance to apply first.
Party:
Anarchy - eladrin wizard sheet.
Prester John - eladrin warlord sheet.
Fiaryn - human swordmage sheet.
Probad - halfling rogue sheet.
Jam Warrior - dragonborn paladin sheet.
Dac - human warlock sheet.
Reserves:
Helix09 - human fighter sheet.
Araski - elf ranger sheet.
For GM reference IC campaign roll sheet.
Bogart on
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Character: Lucan Loreweaver (Eladrin Wizard)
Character Background
Lucan is a young wizard only recently being taught the ways of Feywild magic. He is of medium size with short scruffy hair. Being raised in a small community he doesn't trust many people, but is willing to tolerate others if it suits his needs. This can sometimes be his greatest weakest, as he tries to rely upon himself to carry the entire burden when others are willing.
Due to this lack of trust in people, he is also extremely skilled at deceiving others. Preferring to make up stories rather than tell the truth. This helps to confuse people about his true intentions, which is precisely what he wants. The less people know, the less information they have to use against him.
Background:
Lucan grew in a small community which was a popular stop amongst the travelling merchants; being only few days ride to the major city in the area. Situated above the cliffs facing the Bentovil Sea, the village had inspired many a bard to tell tales about adventures across the seas. ‘The Bentovil Stop’ was the one of the few taverns in the town and was also the most popular. Most evenings, the tavern would be filled with tradesmen, telling their own stories of life on the road and tales of the evil wizard Tizun Thane. And amongst the drunken rabble of these men, Lucan could be found, listening with interest, creating his own adventures in his head.
At an early age, his father taught him the ways of magic, as well as his sense of right and wrong. He was a quick learner and soon his skills couldn’t be beaten by any of the other wizards in the village. Even the passing mercenaries, hired to protect the trade routes, could only just keep up. This talent grew over time and very quickly, Lucan grew restless. He sought to expand his knowledge and so he soon left, where he had enrolled himself in one of finest schools for magic in the land.
The Beginning
The wooden statue stood straight ahead, but Lucan knew he should be weary. Taking a small step forward, he immediately proves himself correct as a beam of purple energy bolted towards him. Ducking quickly behind cover, he had time to notice his competitor, Lia, making a dash towards the altar in the centre of the room.
Reaching into his mind, he summoned the appropriate energy from the Feywild and focussed it into his hand. A faint outline of a hand appeared next to the statue, allowing Lucan to grab it just before Lia got there. Dropping his concentration for a moment, he fired a magic missile at the girl, hitting her directly in the stomach, making her drop to the floor unconscious. Placing the statue carefully in his pouch, he slowly and cautiously walked over to her and gave her a quick nudge with his foot.
"Well done," a voice said behind him. Quickly turning around, he saw the face of his mentor and smiled. He had won the contest.
"It seems my faith in you was well deserved," he continued and started to walk out of the room, indicating for him to follow.
"I have recently been contacted by an old friend of mine. It seems they're looking for heroes again and I could think of no-one better."
Shocked at his master's kind words, Lucan didn't know what to say.
"You have no need to be surprised. You've proved yourself many a time, this being just one such occasion." He paused, his face turning more serious. "But be warned. The hearts of men are not as pure as those you've grown up with. Trust no-one but yourself and good luck."
With his wisdom imparted, his master walked off, leaving Lucan behind to contemplate his future...
----
I hope thats enough for other people to base theres on.
Due to their fey nature, the eladrin are often thought of as, well, fey: aloof; concerned more with realms out of sight than something directly in front of them. Maybe so. But to every rule, there's an exception.
Since early childhood, Ilmarinen has reveled in tales of battle and war. As he grew older, he learned the pleasures of the feel of a well-made longsword in his hand, the rush of blood as battle is joined, the cries of wounded enemies, the ecstasy of victory. He has foregone the eldritch paths so many of his kin travel for the visceral transport of battle, and seeks to make a name for himself as a great warrior and leader of men. Ilmarinen is supremely confident in his own abilities, brash, (some --alright, most -- would say arrogant), and bloody-minded. As a result, he is fearless in battle, but often reckless.
As you might imagine, this recklessness has not been without cost. His first stint as a battlefield commander was as the leader of a small mercenary company, which was attached to a larger town militia as that combined force sought to ward off an attack from the goblin army of Grazzak Halftooth. Defying his instructions, he attempted to lead a flanking attack against Halftooth's vanguard, but he and his men were quickly surrounded and badly mauled. Most of his company died; Ilmarinen himself suffered a gash to his shield arm that left him partially lame before being knocked unconscious and left for dead. Fortunately, even without his men, the militia was able to hold against the goblins and, after the battle, Ilmarinen was rescued and (grudgingly) tended to. After recovering from his wounds he set forth, somewhat humbled, to find new companions and once again stake his claim to prominence in this world.
Ilmarinen headed west and, after a few weeks, found himself on the shores of the Bentovil Sea. Well, what now, he thought. The city wasn't far; he could probably be there in a week. But he was tired, and hungry, and walking gets old. He could see, a few hours off, smoke rising from the fires of a small town on the cliffs overlooking the sea. It couldn't hurt to stay the night and resupply, at least. And, hey, maybe there'd actually be something worth doing there.
The only tavern in town was a dumpy hovel called "The Bentovil Stop." The mudfarmers who run this place probably think it's 'homey,' he muttered to himself. Oh well. A beer and a hot meal would improve his mood dramatically. Stepping inside, he looked around, and categorized the local color: Drunk, drunk, village idiot . . . wait, who's this? He had not expected to see a kinsman in such a "quaint" locale. He collected a drink -- not half bad, he was relieved to find -- approached the young eladrin, and addressed him in elvish.
"You there, eladrin. A word with you?"
Prester, the background's fine, but I was looking for more of a story about how Ilmarinen and Daveak met than 'they met up' (though you might have been Anarchy to post a bit of RP first).
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Fair enough -- Anarchy posted while I was writing up my own background, so the last bit was pretty much tacked on. I've actually got to go run some errands before my wife murders me badly, but I'll edit my post as soon as I get back.
Temporary reprieve! Edit incoming.
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The whole "write up how you met each other" thing is a bit new to me so hopefully I didn't botch it too hard.
Jonathan Stark, Human Swordmage
http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheets/view.php?id=103550
Background/Personality Mashup: Orphaned by bandit attacks upon his merchant parents' caravan, Jonathan was taken in by the Eladrin when patrols came across the site and the surviving boy. One might come to imagine that Jonathan has come to adopt rather Eladrin-like detachment and patience as a result of his upbringing. One would, however, be very wrong. Jonathan is somewhat of a sullen man, a chip firmly lodged upon his shoulder due to a (perhaps correct) perception that the Eladrin that surrounded him looked down on him.
A bright lad, his tutors had much hope for him when he first engaged in the studies of the Arcane. However, the pace his tutors set was far too slow for his ambitions. He took instead to the teachings of the local Spellswords, finding their "less abstract uses of the arcane" to suit his style far better. His swordsmanship and ability to augment such with magic swiftly outpaced his fellow students, but it was not enough. A true challenge, a true test of his capabilities was needed...and when word came of Tizun's seeming disappearance, he knew the chance had come. There would be others seeking their fortune in unravelling this mystery, and he would join them.
The Beginning - Roadway Encounter
This is not going according to plan thought Jonathan to himself as he travelled the dusty road alone. The grand escape from his home of Silverythicket into a life of high adventure was not quite so easy as first imagined. In no small part, the problem was that Jonathan was not very worldly. His oft criticized social skills were having about as much success out in the "real world" as they did in Silverythicket.
"If any of you Gods are listening, I'd give damn near anything for just one chance to let my skill speak for me. Words don't seem to be working out so far!" he complained for all the world to hear.
Silence. No answer. Typ-...or perhaps not? An incomprehensible yell made its way to his ears, as well as the sound of steel in the distance. Opportunity. No time for hesitation. Sprinting down the road he found what he sought. Two kinsmen!
Eladrin! he mentally corrected himself, taking measure of the situation before him. And not alone. Goblins. One, two, three, four, f-. The tally was cut short as one of the green things surrounding the elven men indicating to its fellows the presence of Jonathan. Guess that's all the prep time I get. This is going to hurt.
White FC: 0819 3350 1787
This place is a pickpocket's dream, Reed thought, but that wasn't his game. He was out of the big city now, and he didn't plan on going back to that scrounging existence. No, he had different things on his mind - adventure, travel, and Tizun Thane. If half of the rumors Reed had heard about that wizard were true, he must have been sitting on a pile of gold and trinkets as big as the tavern the halfling was currently glancing around. He didn't mind the place. He found it to be homey in the usual too-big fashion, and he enjoyed being surrounded by common folk instead of criminals for a change.
Now what's this? Two Eldarin - and some human staring at them like he was going to ask one to dance. Those three look like they've got places to go. Maybe I should have a listen.
Reed slipped through the crowd with ease, the larger people providing him with adequate cover as he shuffled up closer to the Eldarin, close enough to pick up on their conversation - the language providing no barrier to his trained ears.
Sounds like they're interested in Thane too, and I'll bet they could use a business partner of my stature.
And if not, well, I'm sure they have some interesting things laying about for the taking.
Makar paced back and forth across the familiar temple floor, his reptilian talons clicking across the flagstones.
'There's no going back now', he told himself, 'You've made your decision and it's time to stick with it. There's so much more good you could be doing out in the world rather than cloistered in these four walls! It's not that I'm not grateful to Father Jeffrum, after all he has raised me as his own ever since he found my egg in that burnt out carriage. Damn bandits! That's why I need to be out there not in here! Come on now, do you want all that sneaking out for midnight combat practice to be for nothing? But how do I tell him?'
As he passed the rows of simple altars that lined the wall he paused at the symbol of Kord. He may have been raised to respect all the worthy Gods equally in this simple village chapel, but it was Kord who had always spoken to him, made him feel he wasn't doing enough living this cosy life. He raised a scaled hand and placed it on the head of the hammer resting against the altar, left as a memorial to some hero long since passed away. What mighty feats had he achieved in Kord's name? What evil had been struck down before it could spread it's despair to the innocent?
'Show me a sign,' Makar mouthed silently. 'Please.'
Suddenly the silence of the chapel was breached by cries of distress, Makar turned to see two Eladrin carrying between them a badly injured figure. Possibly human? Too hard to tell behind all the blood. The Father was already with them. At that moment the hammer fell forward, and instinctively Makar reached out to catch it. He stared at the weapon in his hand. What more of a sign could he need? He placed it back in it's place. Working out how to talk them into taking him with them could come later, for now his medical help was needed.
Edit: Dang, Probad posted whilst I was composing. That'll have to do now as I must fly!
Don't worry about it, I'm using that myself. Thought I'd try it out. What are the rules on character creation? I'm assuming a standard 22 pt, Lvl 1 characters?
Yup, level 1 22pt buy. Should have put it in the OP, and have edited it in now. Cheers.
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As the newcomer spoke, Lucan focused back onto matters at hand. This eladrin wished to speak with him, but to what end? He excused himself from the trader he was currently talking to and walked over to him, signalling to the barkeeper to get him a drink. Eyeing the newcomer up, it was obvious that he was not new to combat, noticing some scars from old injuries. Perhaps he had some tales to tell.
Retrieving his drink and sitting down opposite the man, he smiled as innocently as he could with an expectant look on his face.
â€Do I know you?â€
"Captain Ilmarinen, at your service. You've heard of me, I trust?"
Blank stare. Pity.
"Well, no matter. Listen, friend, you look like you've been here a while. It's hardly the big city, but there's got to be something worth doing in this town -- where should I look?"
PSN: ShogunGunshow
Origin: ShogunGunshow
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"Never heard of you, although that guy over there sure knows you from somewhere." Lucan replied, gesturing across the bar.
Ilmarinen follows his kinsman's gaze, over to the human at the bar.
"Oh, the boy? He's fine, I'm sure. I do occasionally attract attention."
Background:
One day, fishing by the nearby river, he spotted a dog struggling against the rushing current. Diving into the frigid waters, he caught up with the canine and pulled it to shore, fighting the powerful sweep of water as it threatened to overpower him and send them both out to sea. Back on shore, he discovered that the dog belonged to the daughter of a noble family that made their summer home nearby. He received little money for his trouble, but as a show of thanks, the daughter insisted that Alex be taken on as a page. Though it would take him away from his duties at the farm, Alex accepted, feeling that, if he could make enough gold, his parents wouldn't have to rely on their corn-fields at all.
He worked hard. "Page" gradually became "squire." Years passed with him under the tutelage of the family's retinue of knights, moving from home to home as the seasons changed. The family was wealthier than he had expected. The daughter's father had a great affection for antiques, both magical and otherwise, and nearly all homes Alex visited had a small library devoted to the display of said items. One in particular fascinated him, though for what reason he couldn't quite put his finger on: a plain, unadorned silver ring. The note engraved onto the pedestal that contained the jewelry told him that it had once belonged to a powerful warlock of the Raven Queen. Using his great powers, the warlock had twisted the demonic energy of the ether between this life and the next and wielded it to destroy all that would defy death. Alex lost count of the number of hours he stared at the trinket, enthralled.
Gentleness became kindness. Kindness became love. It was no secret that he harbored feelings for the daughter of the family that weren't fitting for a low-class farmboy, even one given a title. He denied himself the pleasure of acting on his feelings, knowing that it would shatter the trust he had earned as easily as a pane of glass. It was only when she was kidnapped by a small group of vampires while en route to their next home that he, for once in his life, acted rashly.
Taking up the sword he had been given in his training to become a knight, he smashed open the ring's prison and put it on. He could feel its power flowing through him, and though he wasn't a hundred percent sure of it, he thought he felt - emanating from his trapped finger - a certain smug satisfaction.
He was guided by impulse, by something that felt a lot like instinct. With the aid of the family's knights, he tracked down the coven of vampires. His sword bit into undead flesh, and as he cut them down, the satisfaction radiating from his hand grew ever stronger, exulting as it imbided the spent life of undeath.
They were successful; the girl was returned. Alex apologized for borrowing the ring, took it off with only a little hesitation, and returned it to its rightful place. However, even though the trinket was gone from him, the feeling - the presence of another - was not. He felt its urgings niggling at the corners of his mind, half-understood whispers waking him from peaceful dreams. He began to grow sickly in appearance, his healthy tan turning pale as his boyish face waned, becoming thin and slightly sunken. He looked drawn, malnourished, and even his best friend, the daughter, slowly began to avoid him.
It became altogether obvious to him what had happened. The warlock, or at least some residual part of him, had been secreted away inside the ring for centuries. It had bided it's time, waiting for a suitable host, and had transferred over into him. It might have even been responsible for the presence of the vampires in the first place, so knowledgeable had the warlock been about the workings of the undead. The engravement didn't say that, of course; the voice told him so.
Begging family illness, Alex made as if to return to his home on the farm to look after his ailing mother. He intended nothing of the sort, of course. He was slowly being eaten away, he could feel it in his bones and in his heart. He had to find some way to exorcise the warlock's presence before he became lost to it entirely. Taking what he would have called an 'added precaution', he stole the ring again before leaving.
No sense taking chances.
Combat Style: As his esoteric class and stat choice suggest, Alex is not your common fighter. He prefers to be flexible. He is able to close in and sweep a maze of death with his blade, but also capable of drawing back and pelting his foes from afar, making use of the many Con based Warlock attacks.
In combat, he relies on his armor and spells that generate temporary HPs to protect him. A Warlock's Curse followed by a Vampiric Embrace is a relatively common way for him to start off a fight. A small stream of tHP is afterwards provided by killing opponents through Alex's Infernal Pact.
If seriously pressed, or if he knows that a battle will be difficult ahead of time, he shields himself in the Armor of Agathys, gaining a hefty amount of temp HP as well as making it distinctly uncomfortable for any foe to stand near him even as he chases them down.
((Sorry for any liberties I took with the setting in my backstory. Let me know if you need it changed. I just wanted to get this post out before I started on writing anything about 'meeting up' with you guys.))
PSN: ShogunGunshow
Origin: ShogunGunshow
PSN: ShogunGunshow
Origin: ShogunGunshow
Thats how I see it , although we'll have to wait to see what Bogart says first.
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It's probably easier than roleplaying out the entire encounter, and hey, I can even find a way to make it play into Jam's post.
White FC: 0819 3350 1787
You need to switch it to public, 'tis currently unreadable to anyone else.
White FC: 0819 3350 1787
Thanks. I keep forgetting it's private by default. The sheet itself was made purely through the new character builder beta. It wasn't aexactly that fun to use some of the time. Here's hoping the final version is better.
And if you can point out any flaws then please do. Some things do get lost in translation.
Or not. up to you guys.)
Typical, Alex thought, looking out over the road. The hillside he stood on lay just off the main dirt path, it's many trees shrouding his presence in shadow.
Leave it to goblins to pick the most obvious, loud, and reckless method of attack. To the common man, or even to Alex himself many years ago, it must have been a wonder that the race's collective stupidity hadn't scourged them from the earth a long time ago. Experience, however, had taught him that unpredictability and fervor, shored up by sheer mindless greed, was a fearsome combination in any opponent, and it was a trait that goblins shared in abundance.
He drew his sword from its scabbard, shining steel scraping against the chill morning air, and surveyed the battlefield with cold grey eyes.
Five goblins, two eladrin, and a human.
Not bothering to announce his presence, he flourished his sword. As naturally as if the thoughts had been his own, icy flame scorched the air before him. Eldritch lettering swirled and burned in a circle around the hilt of his blade. He turned his attention to the nearest green-skinned menace. The beast had its back turned to him.
As if it sensed what was coming, the goblin looked over its shoulder. Alex raised his weapon.
He pointed.
The boom was unnaturally loud, even for the chaotic sounds of battle. One moment the goblin was there, and the next it wasn't, sailing overhead in an arc painted by blood and screaming bloody murder the whole way. It landed in a crumpled heap some distance from where it started, its limbs quickly following suit.
The scorched lettering faded as Alex lowered the blade and adopted a ready stance.
He remembered the day well. Looking back on it later, he realized that that was when it had began. Lucan, Ilmarinen, Jonathan, and himself, facing death in the cold. At the time, he'd had no intention of losing.
But only at the time.
PSN: ShogunGunshow
Origin: ShogunGunshow
PSN: ShogunGunshow
Origin: ShogunGunshow
Edit:
I think five or six people have posted characters so far, but this won't be a 'first come, first served' adventure so feel free to have a go with whatever you feel like making.
EDIT: I'll be biased towards a) good intro stories about how you met up with everyone else, b) decent party variety and c) because a PbP game relies on momentum and regular posting more than anything else whether or not you seem to be capable of doing that. So far we've had the following apply.
Anarchy - eladrin wizard.
Prester John - eladrin warlord.
Fiaryn - human swordmage.
Probad - halfling rogue.
Jam Warrior - dragonborn paladin.
Dac - human warlock.
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Hrmph. Tricks! Mummery! He turned back to Loreweaver.
"Listen, friend, I'll be plain: my last company came to some...trouble, and I'm at loose ends. You seem like a hardy type, perhaps a bit thin, a bit weedy, but we can take care of that. And I'll be damned if you're not looking for something more than a lifetime soaking down beer in the Bentovil Stop: it's plain on your face. I'm heading towards the city, why don't you join me at least that far? We'll stop at the Temple of Kord along the way; I hear that soldiers for hire often congregate there, and we may be able to find some work. What do you say?"
Strolling in the forest and listening to nature always put Edval at ease. Here in nature and away from civilization is where Melora's blessings were plentiful.
Edval was at piece... at least until a bunch of forsaken goblins decided to go stomping around.
Edval quickly sprinted up a tree overlooking the small road and watched the goblins. What were they doing all the way out here? Then Edval saw them. Two Eladrin and two humans were about to be ambushed.
Edval watched as the two groups fought curious as to whom these interlopers were into his forest. he didn't like the fact that the road cut straight through but at least the civilized folk kept to it unlike those goblins... walking through crushing his flowers and killing his little squirrel friends. Edval decided to intervene.
A bright blinding light shot down from the tree consuming two of the goblins in holy fire. Edval was cautious to only hit them when the others had their backs turned so as not to give him away. Feeling he had given the travelers more than even odds he watched as the four quickly dealt with those that remained.
The four seemed perplexed with the fate of the two goblins but looted them and moved on all the same. As he watched the travelers move away from their fight Edval was overcome by the voice of Melora.
"These four will be important to me in the near future. There is a corrupting force in the natural places of this world and they will seek out the cause. See to it you are among them and give them aid."
Edval cautiously moved down the tree head still spinning from Melora's voice. He liked company little and towns much less but when Melora spoke he obeyed.
Edvar followed the four back to a tavern in a nearby city. Edvar waited until they were seated and then approached.
"Well met travelers, I saw your trouble on the road outside town. I take it you are all well?"
The two humans gave little notice to the elf in rusted chainmail, a patchwork beard, and unkempt hair.
One of the Eladrin responded though, "Was that you that dispatched those two goblins for us? Well if you wish to assist us further perhaps you can stand down wind or take a bath." All four had a hearty laugh at Edvar’s expense. He wanted to leave these civilized people to their fates but denying your patron God was never a good idea, so Edvar sucked it up and tried to take it in stride.
"Yes very well. I am a dirty Elf who likes to play in the woods, but this dirty elf has it from a higher power that you lot have gained the favor of Melora and she has tasked me with your protection as it were. The forests of this land have been getting sick and not just because you all continue to build and populate. There is something more happening and I believe I am supposed to help you stop it."
This seemed to stop the laughter at the table.
Elf, Cleric
FINAL ABILITY SCORES
Str 10, Con 11, Dex 12, Int 8, Wis 20, Cha 14.
Starting Ability Scores
Str 10, Con 11, Dex 10, Int 8, Wis 18, Cha 14.
AC: 16 Fort: 10 Reflex: 11 Will: 17
HP: 23 Surges: 7 Surge Value: 5
TRAINED SKILLS
Religion, Diplomacy, Heal, Insight.
FEATS
1: Ritual Caster
1: Melora's Tide
POWERS
1, At-Will: Lance of Faith
1, At-Will: Sacred Flame
1, Encounter: Divine Glow
1, Daily: Cascade of Light
ITEMS
Ritual Book, Gentle Repose, Morningstar, Holy Symbol, Adventurer's Kit, Chainmail, Animal Messenger, Longbow, Arrows (30)
Myth-Weavers Sheet
Myth-Weavers Sheet
EDIT: There seem to be several different timelines going so I just picked one and jumped in.
EDIT 2: I got mixed up with who was on the road already. Updated to include Alex.
EDIT 3: added myth-weavers sheet
Turning back to the Eladrin, Lucan tried to conceal his excitement.
"This could be my chance," he thought. "An opportunity to make a name for myself as well as collecting my fair share of riches." But could he really trust this man? Someone he'd only just met. Someone who held him in such low esteem?
His curiosity getting the better of him, he agreed, offering a hand to shake.
"I could do with some adventure and I'm sure there are a few things that we can learn from each other. Shall we set off? The name's Lucan by the way."
As a smile formed on his face, inside he knew he had to keep his wits about him; you never know who you can trust in these dark times.
:P
White FC: 0819 3350 1787
And some random writings. Seperate incident to the Goblin attack previously discussed as I think that's before my meeting with the group. Makar didn't seem to fit in either of the current narrative threads and adding a third that requires input from others seems a bit much.
Makar had to fight hard to supress a grin as the last of the goblins shrieked and convulsed on the floor. Praise be to Kord! He had heard how those of his kind could breath forth fire and ice but despite his secret atempts as a hatchling had never been able to do more than give himself a stomach ache from the straining. And then suddenly, in the heat of combat, when he saw that beast striking at the unprotected rear of one his new companions... He had opened his mouth to scream in anger but what had burst forth had been none other than the avenging thunder of Kord himself! He had now had many opportunities to refine and control his blessing but the link it gave him to his Deity was still almost hedonistic in it's euphoria. And surely Kord must be well pleased with him. Makar could feel his Lord's presence with him, guiding him in battle, smiting his foes and protecting his friends. As he cleaned the goblin smear from the head of his hammer, Makar whistled a hymnal tune under his breath and started to compose his next letter back to Father Jeffrum in his head. He might mention more of the divine healing and less of the boiling goblins...
Defenders represent.
White FC: 0819 3350 1787
Character sheet: Alphon 'Al' Prendergast
Human Fighter (Geared towards sword and shield Defender)
Fifteen years in the watch, Alphon thought, taking a deep drag from his acrid dog-end and staring at the whorls in the wooden table through the amber liquid in his glass. He tried to multiply the numbers in his head, gave up and stared out across the bar solemnly. How many sleepless nights in the freezing rain is that? He flicked the final ashes from his faded cigar onto the sawdust floor, took out a small pouch and began to roll a new one.
How many of those slippery Eladrin burglars, gang wars, and happy domestic partnerships that end up with someone taking a long swim downriver? He grunted. Al knew he wasn’t the brightest of folks, but he had a strong stomach and the captains had always sought out his advice as to the meaning of some hooligan’s tattoo, or why it just didn’t make sense that Mr. Bronzebottom would hang himself from the rafters and still end up with a messy head wound. Dwarves. Not a fan of heights to a man. he thought to himself, smoothing his black mustache.
Though he couldn’t always do the math in his head, and ‘paperwork’ was just another term for ‘grab the sharp eyed new guy and have him write down what you say’, he did know that 15 years was certainly worth more than the few hundred silver he had received. Martha was right about that. I owe her much more he thought, rubbing his wife’s ring around the chain on his neck. Jim, Thomas, and Janna deserve more than an apartment for all that. And those wererats… he spat, then drained the glass in one swallow, forcing the liquid to chase away the echoes of screams in his mind and ward off the whispered memory of dank places. Yes. Certainly worth more than a very-nearly gold medal. Howley, his trainee, had been much more appreciative after he pulled him by the scruff of the neck out of that nightmare. Showed up one day with a newly forged longsword his father had crafted in thanks. Certainly went a long way to replace the one that shattered. He thought he was going to have to live on potatoes again for another month to make up the difference. It was about that time he got to thinking, there has to be better prospects for someone with my luck.
It was about this time he noticed the conference between the two eladrin. Let me see. Smoke puffed up towards the ceiling. Young one looks he’d blush if he even heard the word ‘whorehouse’ and seems more full of bullshit than a herd of nervous cows on fresh pasture. A wizard definitely. He chuckled to himself. Other one, hmm. My age about, athletic by profession rather than habit I’ll wager, and certainly no pushover, in a fight judging from his scars. Heh, talks like every word is to be immortalized by a bards in epic song….hey wait a minute is that Ilmarinen? Al peered through the smoky air. Damn its been a long time since I’ve seen him, he thought. Last time he was around the Broken Horn, he was drumming up soldiers and doughboys (and ex-cons ) to form a mercenary group. Fine ale those times and Ilmarien was always good for a story.
Then he noticed the oh-so-casual saunter of a halfling move towards the pair. By instinct he tightened his belt pouch and bought four drinks. All smiles and raucous jabs with the bartender, Al descended in a swath of noise plunking down the mugs of ale between the Eladrin, pointedly forcing a stein into the halfling’s hands and slapping him on the back. “Howdy Ilmarinen. Long time. These friends of yours?”