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[D&D 4E RECRUIT] Signal Fire
VanityPants
Gokai Red!Registered User regular
Gokai Red!Registered User regular
Some points of interest before we get into the meat of this:
-- I got interested in D&D with 4E and have been playing it whenever I get the chance. I've DMed more than I've played, I like to think that I have a good handle on things, but I am by no means an expert. I may make mistakes, you may make mistakes, I'm much more concerned with the flow of the game.
-- I'm very interesting in the role-playing element that a PbP game will provide. Combat will be important, but the character development and story will be just as important if not more so at times. I will be doubling the normal XP gains to reflect the important of hard, quick fighting and advancement.
-- This will be a custom campaign, so please read the information below.
Now then, let's get into things.
The World of Signal Fire:
Signal Fire takes place in the continent of Vilesk. There are a couple of things you’ll need to know about Vilesk before we begin – it is a continent that is constantly at war between two opposing sides, it has been split down the middle, dividing the land in a Northern kingdom and a Southern kingdom.
The North is ruled by King Martin, the South is ruled by King Daul. The two King's are twin brothers, seperated since childhood. Their father, the last King Tallow, died when they were young. Political parties behind the king split, and the two sides took hold of the children as figureheads in the bid for power. The conflict has been going on for 50 years now and colors much of the opinions of those inhabiting Vilesk.
The North is a chilly tundra that is populated by hearty races, most often you will find the following races in the North: Human, Elf, Half-Elf, Dragonborn, Dwarf, Halfling, Tiefling, Deva, Goliath, Half-Orc, Shifters. The North is rich in ore and metals, the mountains are famous homes to the dwarves and dragonborn.
The South is warm and temperate, most often you will find the following races in the north: Human, Elf, Half-Elf, Deva, Gnome, Half-Orc, Shifters. The South is known for their education and technology – many say that the North has better materials, but the South knows how to use them better.
Dragons have not been seen in the continent of Vilesk in centuries. These creatures are a sort of natural disaster on this continent – they come by chance and will leave just as suddenly. Sometimes the dragons that come are good nature and bring great treasures and knowledge with them, other times they bring deep secrets and darkness to the continent.
A signal tower stands in the center of the continent as a beacon to everyone. It comes alight when dragons return to the world, and for centuries the tradition has stood of enemies banding together to face the oncoming plight if the dragons have dark intentions.
Regarding character creation: Given the facts above, dragonborn are rather rare in Vilesk, and the ones that are around are treated poorly due to their ancestry. Also, in regards to religion, most people in Vilesk do not worship Bahamut, for obvious reasons.The North is ruled by King Martin, the South is ruled by King Daul. The two King's are twin brothers, seperated since childhood. Their father, the last King Tallow, died when they were young. Political parties behind the king split, and the two sides took hold of the children as figureheads in the bid for power. The conflict has been going on for 50 years now and colors much of the opinions of those inhabiting Vilesk.
The North is a chilly tundra that is populated by hearty races, most often you will find the following races in the North: Human, Elf, Half-Elf, Dragonborn, Dwarf, Halfling, Tiefling, Deva, Goliath, Half-Orc, Shifters. The North is rich in ore and metals, the mountains are famous homes to the dwarves and dragonborn.
The South is warm and temperate, most often you will find the following races in the north: Human, Elf, Half-Elf, Deva, Gnome, Half-Orc, Shifters. The South is known for their education and technology – many say that the North has better materials, but the South knows how to use them better.
Dragons have not been seen in the continent of Vilesk in centuries. These creatures are a sort of natural disaster on this continent – they come by chance and will leave just as suddenly. Sometimes the dragons that come are good nature and bring great treasures and knowledge with them, other times they bring deep secrets and darkness to the continent.
A signal tower stands in the center of the continent as a beacon to everyone. It comes alight when dragons return to the world, and for centuries the tradition has stood of enemies banding together to face the oncoming plight if the dragons have dark intentions.
The Hook/The Story:
The Midlands of Vilesk are an unpoliced territory. Bordering the North and the South, neither king offers protection over the lands in the middle of the continent. Many towns have cropped up here over the years, both good and bad. Some people come to the Midlands looking to get away from the rule of their particular king, to find lives of their own. Others were born here and know no other way of life. Still others come to the Midlands attracted by the lack of law, people who would do harm to the locals and those passing through.
Our story begins in the town of Shell in the very center of the Midlands. It is known as Shell because of the large dome of earth that cradles the village from the north, the village literally being dug into a crater.
Shell is a small town; the local militia protecting it is even smaller. You adventurers have been drawn to Shell for whatever individual reasons they may have, once there they find that the town is in a state of panic. The captain of the local guard has disappeared, his daughter Anna owns the local tavern and she now spends her days weeping behind the bar. The people fear that bandits will soon set upon them if their current state becomes known, and so they are especially weary of travelers.
Our story begins in the town of Shell in the very center of the Midlands. It is known as Shell because of the large dome of earth that cradles the village from the north, the village literally being dug into a crater.
Shell is a small town; the local militia protecting it is even smaller. You adventurers have been drawn to Shell for whatever individual reasons they may have, once there they find that the town is in a state of panic. The captain of the local guard has disappeared, his daughter Anna owns the local tavern and she now spends her days weeping behind the bar. The people fear that bandits will soon set upon them if their current state becomes known, and so they are especially weary of travelers.
Further Notes/Posting an Adventurer:
-- We'll be using Myth-Weavers for character sheets and Invisible Castle for dice rolls.
-- Characters will begin at 1st level, anything in the DDI Character Builder is acceptable. Any races not detailed in the background of the story are scattered through the North and South of Vilesk.
-- Character applications must be in by 12/01/09! Two character applications are allowed per person. There will be 4-6 spots in the party.
-- When posting a character application, I'd like the normal details on your character's story as well as their reason for coming to Shell / The Midlands. A sample post of your character first arriving at Shell would also be nice -- for this exercise you can describe Shell as you will, the only important things to know are what I mentioned about the town above.
If you have any questions, please feel free to PM me!
VanityPants on
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Posts
William 'Chocolate' Harris, Gnome Bard.
William hops off the wagon as it slows, landing squarely in a cloud of dust and soiling his boots. He stares down and sadly shakes his head, as this simply will not do. A snap of his fingers, a quick measure from his lyre, and the cloud of dust evaporates from about him, the dirt and mud popping gently off his clothes and leaving behind an immaculate image of a 3' 6" Cassanova with a thin dark goatee, slicked back hair and eyes that seem to see straight through you. Replacing his instrument on his back, William looks to the town before him as men and women scatter about in a blind panic. A knowing smile crosses his lips.
Fear? Panic? Distress? Men fighting beasts? Women in peril? Lovely maids being menaced by foul brigands? Why, it would seem the Gods have seen fit that the one and only William Harris has gotten here just in the nick of time...
2011 PAX Warmachine/Hordes Champion
Raised in the northern mountains Duncan’s clan traded with the dwarves of the region for their metal and paid for it in the hides of the beasts they had slain. That was Duncan’s life until his clan was setup by a large band of bandits near the lawless midlands. Duncan’s clan was small only numbering ten warriors and twice that in women and children. The bandits outnumbered his clan four to one when they attacked, and when they left Duncan stood alone with a mortal wound and the bandits were culled to a third of their number.
He clan slain, all their belongings stolen away, and Duncan mortally wounded he tried to follow the bandits for revenge. He made it only half a mile before passing out from his wounds.
When he regained consciousness he found himself on his back in the back of a cart with an old weathered woman driving.
“You’ve suffered quite a bit young warrior and I see the vengeance in your heart.
I have patched you up and will drop you in Shell.”
Confused Duncan responded, “I thank you for the kindness, but why would you do this thing for me?”
With a wry laugh that turns into a hacking cough the old woman turns to Duncan revealing a raw red hole where her left eye should be, “Because boy, I expect you to act on that vengeance. Those bandits are not the only foulness that stalks the midlands and while I am too old to do anything about it I can patch you up and point you in the right direction.”
Portrait:
Thinking about rolling up a sorcerer. I'll have to do that sometime later tonight or tomorrow.
Basic Attack +26 vs AC -- Damage 1d10+19 (+5 if enemy is prone) (+2 if Longtooth Shifting is active)
Robp: Awesome! I look forward to seeing your character.
Loving the two characters posted already, can't wait to see more.
Background
While the Lord's workmen continued their efforts, trying to upgrade Spike's armor (the aetheric crystal assemblies within him demanded a certain flexibility that left him less durable than other warforged), he rapidly devoured the books and scrolls in the small library. He knew he was constructed to be a wizard, and was keen to know as much as he could about them. Spike even took to wearing wizard's robes and large, floppy hat that came to an ostentatiously tall point. He took little notice of the dwarves and men that would scramble about, tending to his frame, as he was completely absorbed in his reading.
Then, one day, the workshop was silent. After his night cycle, Spike wandered the workshop, looking for the artificers that had been his constant companions. Finally, his search fruitless, he returned to the library to continue his reading. That day, he finished the last of the workshop's books. Frustrated that he was left without any knowledge of his real purpose, and eager to learn more about the arcane, he decided to venture out of the workshop, and into the frozen North beyond....
Spike approached Shell from the North, a whirring of gears accompanying his somewhat awkward gait. It had been a long march from the workshop to the Midlands, but this was the way the road had led, and Spike had little else to guide him. As he looked upon the small settlement, he saw many small buildings, with yellow lights flickering through the windows. He had gone so long without any maintenance, and was eager to find a brush and some lubricant. Spike was also certain that one of these places must have some spellbooks and scrolls. That in mind, he clambered towards the largest building ahead.
So uh yeah. I can whip up a character if you'll have me. I have done some RP in the past so that won't be a problem
Go for it!
Background
"Hrm. Perhaps I should go. . ."
and he was off to the next opportunity.
Arrival
Thoughts rambling. Body weak. Lips dry. And not a town in sight. Just another bland afternoon. Dio took a few moments to wonder what happened to that Dwarf from the last bar he was at. It was actually pretty funny seeing that his beard took to the fire before the rest of his body. Anyone rational would laugh at that, right? Was he laughing out loud or was it still in his head? Either way the errant thoughts of an addled mind are incredibly distracting, in fact they are so distracting that he managed to completely miss the hillside which he was now plummeting down.
"sigh . . ."
head over heels against the thankfully soft dirt he went rolling and tumbling until he managed to get to his feet but that was to no avail. He was coming down too fast. Just what the hell kind of hill is this? What a strange angle. And wow. He was running really really fast. Head over heels again. Well not quite he landed squarely on his face and slid for a good distance before coming to a rolling stop halfway up the hill. . .
"Ha! It looks like i'm in luckkrrpffft!"
He spit a clod of fresh dirt from his lips and brushed himself off. There was a town in front of him. A look back up the hill and it became clear. Not a cliff. A crater. Not just any town. Shell! He had heard the ale here had the slightest hint of a spicy earthy flavor that was simply unmatched in the colder seasons. To the tavern!
But not without another fall. And a slide. and a trip. and a skid. and a drop. . .
Dusty, dirty and just a little bit bloody Dio opened the door to the tavern and slinked inside.
"Now miss. I am all in favor of a good cry but I have to say you're going to have to discount my drink if any of those tears end up in the brew. "
He flashed a grin and moved in for a much needed sip.
(this is my first character so uh let me know if everything is in order)
Aidan wanted desperately to join the army as a soldier.
He was denied as not being cut out for Army life--he didn't take orders well & was not physically fit enough.
Discouraged, he's become a mercenary, taking on a military air and letting people assume he's "retired" although he's quite young for that.
http://4e.orokos.com/sheets/1516
Arriving in Shell, Aidan speaks with the Captain's second,
"Look, you're in a tough spot, and I hate to charge you, but I can't risk my life for nothing. In the military--in the past, I've dealt with situations like this. Bandits? I can fight them. Your Captain? I can search for him. I know the wilds, and I know the sword. I figure I'm your best option. Let's talk about my fee, and then I'll meet the others you've met with."
I'm not sure how I like the Warlord's build so I may modify it a little bit, if that's alright with you, Vanity. It's posted below anyway.
Amnon, Tiefling Warlord
Background:
The child grew up in the town, sheltered from the harsh realities that lived just to the south of them in the Midlands. His childhood was quite normal, which is extraordinary for a tiefling. He easily made friends and would often wander the streets of Haven talking to whoever was there.
His charisma even as a child was quite evident. He was said to rally his friends at his command easily. Not only this, he could encourage them to work through any circumstance they may have been in. The power in Amnon's words was quite evident as he pushed his friends to do new, exciting things, most of which they would have never done without his prodding.
As he grew older, Amnon began to learn of the dangers of the Midlands. Many travelers would end up in Haven (one of the closest to the Midlands) and he spoke to any that entered the town. He learned that there was no one protecting or guarding the roads allowing the bandits to have free reign on any traveler who happened by.
For reasons still unknown to most, Amnon began training with a sword and shield. He was able to convince to of his friends to support him. They picked up their own weapons and began to train as well. They were intent on protecting the roads near Haven so travelers could near their town with less worry.
They finished their training with local militia and headed out on their own. At first, the battles against the bandits were hard. They were cut and bloodied many times before defeating the enemies. However, as time moved on, they slowly improved their skills. Bandits no longer seemed like a problem. They faced them easily and almost always ended the battles before any of them were injured. Their teamwork was no match for the bandits and with Amnon leading, their strikes became more precise and the battles ended quicker than any could have imagined. The tiefling had a knack for this and everyone involved could see this.
How he looks:
Amnon's skin is a deep, dark red. His tail swings out under his armor and extends about three feet behind him. He's about average height for a Tiefling. Silver eyes shine out from under his two pointed horns on his forehead. His hair is neatly tied into a ponytail behind his head and is jet black. The hair extends down to the warlord's neck. He carries a sword and a shield that are relatively nondescript. His chainmail shows signs or wear and tear. It no longer carries the glimmer it once had after being scuffed up by different weapons, blood and dirt. Under the chainmail is a black shirt and black pants and boots cover his lower half.
Travel to Shell:
Once inside the room, the tiefling begins the painful process of removing his armor. Cuts and bruises cover his body from the recent battle he just had. With his armor and shirt removed, he starts cleaning his wounds and blood from his body in a bowl of water given to each guest. The battle had been hard and they were barely victorious.
The two friends he traveled with were both killed during the fight. Amnon was able to overcome the final bandits before they could overcome him as well. Now out of harm's way, the tiefling takes a moment to mourn the passing of his friends. It was a costly trip out into the Midlands but they all knew what they were getting into.
The bandits had become smart. After hearing of the three adventurers from Haven, they teamed up in one big surprise attack. Though this had happened before, it never happened in the numbers Amnon saw that day. Before any of the friends could react, one was dead. The bandits released a number of arrows from their hiding spots onto the surprised group. Amnon and his other friend fought all the bandits alone. Arrows flew, swords clashed and ultimately Amnon lost his second friend that day but not before they were able to dwindle the bandits numbers to just two. Amnon finished them off quickly before he fell from exhaustion.
Amnon slept in the forest that night and, luckily, was not killed as he slept. As he awoke, he was able to bury his friends quickly before returning to town but he didn't dare spend any more time in the Midlands without support. He had to find his way to a town and quickly. Haven was too far away. The tiefling did know of a small town built into a crater, though, that was quite a bit closer. Determined to heal up in that town, he slowly made his way there.
Ultimately, he was intent on going back into the Midlands. Knowing that the bandits were getting smarter worried Amnon. He knew his friends' sacrifices would not be in vain.
Alright, this is one of two. I'll get the second one posted in a bit.
EDIT: Well, I've been thinking about what I want to post for my second character and I think I'm going to post a Paladin instead of a Sorcerer like I originally intended. We'll see how that one turns out. I may have a crappy/incomplete character sheet for him until later tonight but I'll get his story and such posted up here.
EDIT2: Here's my Paladin. I'll run his build through the Character Builder later to ensure its good but I think I made it correctly...
Trey Catharta, Human Paladin of Avandra
Background:
After a few years of guarding the caravan, Trey felt the call from Avandra to become one of her paladins. His goal: protect the roads where he can so that traders may travel and trade with little fear of bandits. His family understood the call and happily stopped at a small temple just outside the Midlands. There, he started on his path to becoming a paladin of Avandra.
The ability shown during his travels with his family's caravan provided the perfect springboard to the life of protection that Avandra had called him. Because of this, many traders who needed to enter the Midlands would hire the young man to provide safe travels through the wilderness.
As luck would have it, one of the traders needed to enter Shell. The paladin decided to spend some time resting there and see if there was any help needed in town.
Appearance:
Born with white hair (some say its a blessing), this paladin wears an older, tarnished set of armor and carries and sword. The armor and weapon shows signs of use, having little pieces chipped away. His normally blue eyes glow white as he channels the power of his goddess. His white hair hangs down to his shoulder loosely. He has a very handsome, defined face that has one defect. A scar from an earlier battle stretches from the middle of his left cheek down to his jaw line.
Entering Shell:
His last job was mostly uneventful. With only one attack from bandits and no wild creatures seen, the trek from the northern lands to Shell was quite boring. Fortunately, Trey preferred it that way. The less battles they had to fight in, the less of a chance anyone would be hurt.
After collecting his meager payment from the merchant he had escorted, Trey headed for the local tavern for some sustenance. Something seemed a bit off to the paladin. People were a little more afraid than usual.
The bar didn't alleviate any of the concerns of Trey. Looking around, the people were few and far between. There were only a couple of tables with people eating and drinking at. Not much in the way of talking could be heard. The owner of the bar, a lady named Anna, wasn't even behind the counter like she normally would be, or so Trey thought.
Walking over to the counter, Trey hears a soft sob come from under the bar. Something isn't right and Trey is determined to find out what's going on.
Basic Attack +26 vs AC -- Damage 1d10+19 (+5 if enemy is prone) (+2 if Longtooth Shifting is active)
Good luck all!
Basic Attack +26 vs AC -- Damage 1d10+19 (+5 if enemy is prone) (+2 if Longtooth Shifting is active)
Background
Danyel was born the second son of the current Lord Terelden. While land and title would go to his brother, Stefan, the captaincy of the Breakneck Guards was to be Daniel's, and he trained for the position since he was able to lift a sword. All was well in Irongate, but the past few months have changed all that.
Lord Terelden had, for his entire reign, been a wise, thoughtful ruler. However, as political strife ravaged Vilsek, and the raids on Breakneck and the mines grew more frequent, he reached out for help anywhere he could find it. In particular, he put his faith in one leader of an obscure cult, nominally devoted to Bahamut, whom he called the "savior" of his household. The priest placed particular emphasis on "proper" behavior, and preached incessantly about the "upright behavior" of women. In a matter of weeks, most of Irongate's populace had fallen under the new priests' sway.
Danyel, not a devout person by nature, paid as little attention as he could to the developments in his father's household, instead focusing on the upkeep of the Guards, which had become especially trying of late. However, one afternoon, his father called all of Irongate to the great hall. It turns out that Katheryn, Danyel's favorite sister, barely 15, had tried to run off with a smith from one of the villages. His father's men, the priest among them, rode out and brought her home, to face her father's judgment. Danyel felt badly for his sister, but expected their father would do little more than rebuke her in public. His heart dropped to the floor, however, as Lord Terelden, naming the the girl a "common whore" and worse, ordered her put to death. As captain of the guards, the sentence was Danyel's to carry out.
Danyel knew that his time at Irongate was at an end. The night before his sister's execution, he stole into the dungeon, freed her, and fled the castle for the south. He didn't know where he was going, or what he would do once he got there. As the siblings moved along the road, Danyel was forced to sell what little they had brought for supplies. When he awoke one morning, he found himself alone. His sister had left had hastily written note, telling Danyel that all of this had been her fault, and that perhaps he could seek forgiveness from their father if only she made her way alone.
Alone, adrift, and utterly without purpose, Danyel found himself in drifting in the Midlands, just outside of Shell. In need of supplies, and a stiff drink, he made his way towards the Inn...
Coming to Shell
Danyel heaved a sigh of relief as he spied a small gated town just around the bend of the road. He'd been sleeping under the stars for the past three nights, and didn't relish another round of salt beef and dirty water. He nodded to the gate guard, and they passed him through into the town with little more than a wave.
He headed straight for the first tavern he came to, a small place just off the main street, and slumped down at the bar, exhausted. The dwarf barkeep regarded him warily, eyeing the huge bastard sword slung across his back, and and the worn scale armor he wore. "What can get you, my Lord?"
"I'm no Lord, good fellow." Danyel sighed, unbuckling his armor. "And for now, a mug of ale, stronger the better..."
2011 PAX Warmachine/Hordes Champion
Slagg Aytock, Half-Orc Assassin
Image:
Background:
One day, Slagg had attempted to pickpocket a human male name Altan Satad. It had turned out that this human was the leader of a guild of assassins in the area. Altan, seeing potential in the boy, took him in and trained him personally. Slagg devoted himself to learn how to control anger, and turn himself into a silent, killing machine. Slagg learned never to kill randomly, only when threatened, or presented with a reward for such an action. While on an assignment, Slagg had returned to his guild to find most of them slaughtered. The rest fled from the invisible enemy, and Slagg soon followed suit. Traveling to the south towards the midlands, Slagg had lost everything he knew again. Everything, except the life of an assassin. He would find work where he could, and make a living travelling in the midlands, killing where it would be needed. His quest began in a small town named Shell...
Coming to Shell:
Why would a town built into a crater be worried about defense? Unless... It suddenly hit Slagg that the local guard must be in shambles. A recent power change, or lost could explain for the mood in the tavern. No hearty drinking, no dancing on tables. Although Slagg preferred the quiet while working, these things still entertained him between job to job.
All this fear built up into one place. It's like my master taught me. Strife leads to fear. Fear leads to hate. Hate leads to death. I've been trained to take advantage of death. Looks like this is the perfect place to do it in. He continued to ponder over his status, as he listened from the darkened corner of the tavern for anything that might be of any use.
Timothy Winchester, Human Artificer
Image:
Background:
His life wasn't easy though. People saw his creations as evil. If they didn't understand how it works, then it shouldn't exist at all. His father was of the same mindset. "What good are those stupid creations of yours! If only your mother were still alive you wouldn't have ended up a disgrace of the family name!" His father believed in hard work. Getting dirty, building muscle, farming from sun up to sun down. After a big argument with his father one day, he left home from his small southern town and headed north, to the midlands. An area of adventure and constant entertainment. He would put his brain to good use, by helping people. He would make a name for himself, and show his father that his creations are beneficial to humanity, or any other race of the land. It would all start at the town of Shell...
Coming to Shell:
"Shell" he read on the sign over the entrance. "Fitting name I guess." He walked towards the gate, and was given a once over by the guards. Although his various objects seemed to make the guards nervous, they let him pass anyways. He was used to it.
One day people will accept true technology. Until then, I'm content with being the weirdo with the strange metal objects. As he pondered the potential applications of a surrounding wall made of mud and dirt, which he found to be inferior to iron and metal any day, he found his way to a local tavern which he entered.
This should be a good place to start I think. Looking around, he asked around about adventuring work the townsfolk could give to him. Oddly enough, it seems like no one was willing to speak to him. For some reason it seemed like his creations weren't the reason either. These people were very visibly weary of sharing details with any stranger. Frustrated, it was then that Timothy notice the crying bar maid. Figuring it was better than nothing, he decided that he should go and speak with her...
Good luck to other applicants!
Thistle leaped down from his perch in a tree, stretching as he made he way towards Shell. After a sleepless night watching for pursuers he was satisfied that he'd lost them, and was eager to get some money to his name once more. Tattered robes covering his equipment, he prowled the dim alleys and taverns looking for work suited to a man of his skills, greasing palms with coins snatched from the pockets of inattentive pedestrians.
Malesh Nef'thar, Half-Orc Paladin of Kord
Armored boots clanking softly, Malesh stopped a man trying to walk briskly past him with a strong clap on the shoulder. After a bit of inquiring and sending the nervous fellow on his way the half-orc headed straight for Anna's tavern to offer his services as the town's defender or to head up an expedition to locate her father.
"Yes, he was."
"It is not his time, yet."
"And yet here we are..."
"You yourself said he is special. He still has much to do, his fate has not been fulfilled."
"Perhaps...but are you allowing your personal desires cloud your view of his fate? He is important, yes, but may not be important in the way you expect."
"Then you'll do it?"
"Yes, but understand, he will be changed. He will have a new body, and his memories will be gone or muddled. He will no longer have his old skills and powers. You may try to guide him as you will, but others may try to do the same."
"Very well. We shall give him a portion of our power, and what guidance we can. Thank you."
The Raven Queen smiled as her visitor left. This was going to be interesting.
In life, he was a dragonborn, and a great leader of his people. But he was killed, before his fate could be fulfilled. Perhaps he was to be a herald of the return of the benevolent dragons, or a champion to fight the coming dragon invasion. So someone with a connection to dragons (and who it is is up to the DM, it could be Bahamut himself, it could be another powerful dragon, it could be anyone else) went to the Raven Queen to send him back. She did so, but she did not send him back whole. He is a revenant, empty, alone, and lost. He doesn't even have a name.
He wakes up in an empty field, and knows just one thing: He must go to Shell.
The idea here is that my character is mechanically a vestige pact warlock, but instead of getting his powers from the normal vestiges he gets his power from ancient dragons. So everything will function the same, it'll just look a little different. I figure the DM can send me dream messages from the person who went to the Raven Queen on my character's behalf, or from others who have an interest in what I do. I purposely left his life kind of wide open so the DM can move things around to make it fit his vision of the story, and feed me memories to play off of.
As he crossed the gate, and passed the guards his head suddenly became clear, and he could think. It was not a comforting feeling. His guidance, the only thing he had, was gone. Now, all he could wonder was "What now?"
Spaceships are better than relationships
If the deadline is tonight, I might submit something in the next few hours.
Inquisitor77: Rius, you are Sisyphus and melee Wizard is your boulder
Tube: This must be what it felt like to be an Iraqi when Saddam was killed
Bookish Stickers - Mrs. Rius' Etsy shop with bumper stickers and vinyl decals.
Yeah, the deadline is tonight. Being as I'm on the east coast, the deadline to get your sheets in will be 11:59PM EST!
I'm loving all of the characters I see so far, I just wish I could run a game big enough to accommodate all of them! Once applications close down I'll decide on the party and send out PMs late tonight, then get everything prepared for us to start.
Also, an important note: Someone had PMed me asking if they could use the Scales of War background sets in the character creator. I should have mentioned this in the OP, so I apologize for that, but we won't be using any of the pre-fabbed background sets in this. If you post your character's background here and your character is accepted, I'll be awarding my own bonus stats based on your character's unique background.
I like the background and I will submit a couple of characters ASAP. I just wanted to clarify - the PHBIII and FR entries in the character builder are OK? Literally *anything* from the character builder, provided the story is sound enough?
Thanks!
I think none of the backgrounds, at all, are allowed.
Just to mention again, I'll be awarding bonus points related to your character's background myself. If you get accepted to the game, I'll either be posting in here with the bonus stats you can add or sending that info out in PMs.
First is Devlin, Summoning Wizard
Background
Appearance
Arrival in Shell
"I assure you that I meant no harm, sir...It's just that you were asleep and your beard was right there."
"You walk from here twerp...you're lucky I got other passengers today, or I would leave you in a heap," the dwarf shouted as he worked at untangling the knots on his chin.
The caravan started again down the road. Devlin sighed, and immediately used his magic to clean himself off. In the distance, a mound of earth rose from the ground. Devlin guesses that this must be Shell. He had heard that it was a bit of a rural backwater, but it was the only town in sight. Maybe he'd see if he could find work. At least he could wait there and see when the next caravan came through. Devlin gathered up his gear and turned to the floating bookstand at his side.
"Come on Billino, you're just lucky I didn't tell that crabapple that you were the one who had the idea to fill his tobacco pouch with leaves and grass." The little bookstand quivered in mid-air, before Devlin sat his tome back on top of it.
Zephazzie, Protecting Shaman
Background
Appearance
Arrival in Shell
"Are you a nymph?" asked one, a slight lad with a piece of hay between his teeth.
"If she was a nymph, we'd be dead just lookin' at her, stupid!" said a tall girl, "I bet she's a golem."
Zephazzie gathered her thoughts for a moment. "Can We see where you live?...no, wait, that's wrong...We...I...would like to observe where you live...your town, we mean, not your homes."
"What do you want in Shell. Ain't nothin' in Shell, unless your wizard master sent you to stop the bandits."
"...I...have no master...we are not a golem...but I am interested in bandits, or rather in helping you with bandits. We are the Wilden, Zephazzie. Can we stay in your town?"
Appearance:
He wears plan leather armor under even plainer clothing; your eyes would completely skip over him if not for the large hand-and-a-half sword on his back. The sheath, like his clothing, is plain, but the blade itself is breathtaking. The metal has an almost magical reflective quality to it, and the edge looks razor sharp. The blade is ornate, clearly smithed by a master, and Cael seems incredibly attached to the weapon.
Well, they thought they left him on the steps of a monastery, at least. Turns out that the monastery and the Mage's Guild look nearly identical in the dark. The wizards were confused to find a baby on their step in the morning, but these things happen; at the very least he could be a servant.
Growing up in the Guild, Cael was surrounded by magic; it was intertwined with every aspect of his life. Chores, bathing, even eating involved the use of magic. He was a bright enough to learn all of it, but he never pushed himself to. Reading spells out of books was so boring; you just sat there for hours, and maybe you made an apple float an inch or a candle go out. Boring.
The mages were at a loss with what to do with him. He was smart, but he refused to push himself (which reminded several of them of themselves, but they were careful not to mention this...). Then, fate came knocking. Well, not so much fate as one of the city guards. Cael was fascinated by his weapon; he'd never seen a sword before. He reached out towards it, and it floated out of the sheath and towards him, where he grabbed it and swung it around gleefully (as effectively as a 10 year old child can swing a sword, at least).
Suddenly, the mages knew what to do with him. He learned swordmagic quickly, and well. As he grew so did his power. Without his weapon he wasn't much of anything, but with it he could easily hold his own against one of the mages (and even beat them). And then fate came knocking again. Well, not really fate, but one of the senior mages, back from an expedition, with a haunted look in his eye.
He told bizarre, grim tales. Tales of demons and blood cults, and the walking dead; he had been harrowed and chased by fiends, and these remained in his mind. At night he muttered to himself, by day he stared at the wall. As Cael slept one night, a loud scream woke him. He rushed to the source and saw the haunted mage standing over the corpse of one of the younger mages, blood on his hands and fire in his eyes. Demonic tattoos crawled over his skin; he spoke in a voice that was not his own, and the words buzzed in Cael's ears and made his skull ring.
Cael blinked. His sword was in his hand. Another blink; a tear in space behind him as he stood in front of the mage, his sword raised to strike. Blink. His sword coated in blood, the mage on the floor. Blink. A peal of thunder as the world came back into color and Cael could hear sounds once more. A last scream, from far off, as the mage's body withered and melted; then, demonic laughter as flames leapt from the corpse to the building.
The Guild burned, an unquenchable flame. It burned to the ground and not even ashes remained, and so, nothing remained for Cael. He left, both to forget what had happened and to apply his newfound "skill" at slaying demons to new areas which may need his help. And so, his travels have brought him to Shell; its location has intrigued him, and he has decided to investigate it.
Bars are generally the best place to learn information (dead men tell no tales, but drunk men tell many tales, and quite loudly), and so Cael headed there first. He was immediately struck by the sight of a woman behind the bar, crying. He sat in the seat closest to her, the friendliest look he could manage on his face. "Why do you cry?" he asked, genuinely concerned (or at least, curious).
She looked at him cautiously and, between sobs, managed to say "N-n-nothing." Cael was puzzled. Something is going on in this town. "Surely it must be something; no one is so distraught over nothing."
"N-no, I cannot s-say." Something is most definitely wrong here...
Appearance, Background, and Arrival all rolled up into one TLDR package!
----
The conversation inside the local tavern was subdued that night. Anna ran the place mostly out of habit, worried sick about her missing father. Those few villagers who attempted to cheer her spirits soon gave up, and even the atmosphere seemed to darken at the generally foul mood inside. As a thin trail of black smoke twisted it's way from the village church into the sky, one pair of customers commented in hasty whispers on the reason for it.
"Doesn't seem right is all I'm saying. I know the boy is sick, but does that really warrant calling on _him_?"
"And what would you do, Cedric? He has the black rot, it's poisoning him from the inside out. He raves like a lunatic and it's all the clergyman can do just to keep his parents from breaking into the room to comfort him. And you know that'd mean death for them; it's a miracle nobody else has come down sick. The problem is he almost refuses to die; he clings to life like a drowning man to a log. The Gravewalker is the only one who can go in there and do what needs to be done, so unless you're volunteering..."
"Don't say that, Marcus. You know that's not what I meant... I just can't stand the sight of him, almost looks like a corpse himself."
"Be that as it may, I'll be glad to see him arrive. Aye, and gladder still to see the sight of him gone."
"That's the damned truth."
----
The Gravewalker came to town, drawn by the thin twist of controlled smoke that proclaimed he was needed. Far too thin to be mistaken for smoke from a fire, the wisps stood out like an ugly mark against the blue sky. Any who might otherwise be drawn to such a display knew better; the column meant "Plague", and where others might shy away the Gravewalker felt called to duty. Any who might observe him as he crossed the plains would think him old and infirm. He is tall yet seems bowed over by the weight of a rusted suit of chainmail draped upon his shoulders. Gaunt and frail, with a tattered cloak of black raven feathers, he could almost be mistaken for a risen corpse if his dark eyes weren't lit with an inner fire. An obsidian feather hangs from a leather cord around his neck, and his right arm is covered in a spiderweb tattoo with no beginning or end. His left hand clutches a staff, old and gnarled to match the rest of him.
He draws stares as he walks through Shell, but most people have either seen or heard of him before. It isn't long before he arrives at the church and makes his way inside, instinctively knowing where to go. As he crosses the threshold into a back room, the priest inside makes eye contact with him and nods with a sigh. The couple sitting on the bench looks up and the woman bursts into tears; her husband gathers her in his arms and escorts her out of the room. After they leave, it looks as if the priest is about to speak, but the Gravewalker holds up one hand and shakes his head. Holding open the door he came through, he waits for the priest to exit through it before closing it and crossing the room to the inner passage.
At the end of a short hallway, through multiple heavy black hanging curtains meant to trap the air and muffle sound, he emerges into a small room filled with death. A boy lies on the cot, writhing in pain and mumbling to himself. The Gravewalker takes one short look and approaches the bed, reaching out with his right hand and laying it gently upon the boy's forehead. A knell as if from a massive iron bell rings through the room, so low pitched as to almost be inaudible, and the boy ceases to struggle. The tattoo on his right arm seems to crawl and a tiny new web segment fades to black on his skin as he whispers a silent benediction.
"Rest in peace, boy. Know no more pain. My Lady will show you the way now."
----
After a few minutes he makes his way out of the tunnel into the sitting room. The head priest is sitting there watching him, and before the Gravewalker can leave he stands up and asks him to hold a moment.
"We need your help. I know this isn't a service you normally offer, but we could use all the help we can get, frankly. The captain of our guard force has disappeared and I suspect foul play. I won't ask you to investigate, but I've seen you cross the midlands alone and I know you have power to defend yourself. Any bandit would take pause if you remained here to defend us should they attack."
Arethas doesn't respond, and his eyes flicker as he stares at the priest. There's a quiet dismissal in his expression and he turns to leave, but doesn't make it more than a step before his right arm curls up and spasms violently. Eyes widened, he stretches out his arm and stares at the web for a few moments, seemingly coming to a decision.
"I will stay."
Also, regardless of whether or not I am picked, I'd be happy to help anyone who is with ironing out the mechanics of their PC.
Inquisitor77: Rius, you are Sisyphus and melee Wizard is your boulder
Tube: This must be what it felt like to be an Iraqi when Saddam was killed
Bookish Stickers - Mrs. Rius' Etsy shop with bumper stickers and vinyl decals.
Other info sent in PM.
He decided to seek his fate in the Midlands, reasoning that most of the Great Truths that could be found in libraries and civilization were there because they had already been found. Most recently, he has traveled into Shell, looking to see whether the crater is natural or otherwise... and whether that means anything.
Alomel is friendly but absentminded - it's the reason he has been exiled such. He has a bad habit of not being able to remember the bigger picture - a potentially fatal flaw in a wizard of his potential. He is often weighed down by the seeming impossibility of his task.
Albei, Kenku Rogue
Appearance
Background
So he left, obviously, to wander the world, with a dagger in claw and his wits and his wings. And after a long series of misadventures he would up in Shell.
Arrival
This is my first time
18 (16+2 from Human) Con
16 Cha
12 Int
and then a 12, 10, 8 in whatever stats you want.
EDIT: Also, you're a warlock. You should be in Leather Armor, since you have proficiency in it.
Inquisitor77: Rius, you are Sisyphus and melee Wizard is your boulder
Tube: This must be what it felt like to be an Iraqi when Saddam was killed
Bookish Stickers - Mrs. Rius' Etsy shop with bumper stickers and vinyl decals.
3Clipse / Cael Sathress / Human Swordmage
Whitewolf / Slage Aytock / Half-orc Assassin
Rius / Arethas / Human Invoker
Hotran / Danyel Teredan / Human Fighter
Robp85 / Amnon / Tiefling Warlord
DasUberEdward / Dio Bacchus / Human Warlock
I look forward to playing with all of you. To those that I did not accept, I'm really very sorry. I loved all of the characters that everyone submitted, I really did! If I could, I would run a second game for the people who did not make it into this one.
As it is, this is the team. I'm putting things together currently, I'm planning to start the game this Thursday (12/03/09). I'm putting together your custom bonus points based on backgrounds right now, so I'll be PMing you when I get those together. I'll also send out PMs when I put up the thread so you guys know.
If you have any questions, feel free to ask in here! We can talk about the world of Vilesk or whatever else you'd like. I'm using my time until Thursday to put together the maps we'll be needing, sorry for the delay!
Grats all 'round, look forward to running with you all
Took a look at everyone's characters, I hope nobody minds constructive criticism.
Whitewolf,
I'd also strongly recommend the Shadow Storm at-will instead of Leaping Shade; especially since you don't have Night Stalker's +damage bonus. Shadow Storm can pretty consistantly get +2 to +4 whereas Leaping Shade is counterproductive.
Hotran,
Also, please, for my sanity's sake, ditch Sure Strike and take any other at-will. Try Crushing Surge, which will give you +Con mod Temp HP every time you hit with it (as long as you're trained in Endurance, which you are). Try Footwork Lure, which is Tide of Iron in reverse and can be very handy. Knockdown Assault doesn't do much damage, but it's fun to knock people prone.
DasUberEdward,
Be careful when picking powers; try to select ones that use Con as the primary attack stat so you're not gimping your plus to hit. And you might want to pick a different Daily, that one seems very situationally useful at best. Remember you don't want enemies adjacent to you
Inquisitor77: Rius, you are Sisyphus and melee Wizard is your boulder
Tube: This must be what it felt like to be an Iraqi when Saddam was killed
Bookish Stickers - Mrs. Rius' Etsy shop with bumper stickers and vinyl decals.