The new forums will be named Coin Return (based on the most recent vote)! You can check on the status and timeline of the transition to the new forums here.
Please vote in the Forum Structure Poll. Polling will close at 2PM EST on January 21, 2025.
[D&D 4E, OOC] Legends of Novus - The Air Convoy - Important New Info Inside!
Talonrazor
Registered User regular
Registered User regular
“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.
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
Prologue Adventure I: The Airship Convoy
Legends of Novus
Prologue Adventure I: The Airship Convoy
So I have decided to run my Legends of Novus game, again. Last time, I got bogged down with a bunch of crap all of a sudden and wasn't online for a long time. However, I still have all these notes and I am itching to run it, finally. There is a slight problem in that I am taking off for US Army Medic training here in a few months and will be gone for six months. Since there are so few games open right now, and some people have expressed interest, I have decided to run an adventure or two with the option that those who enjoyed it can return to the campaign when I get back next May. These adventures will lay the groundwork to a larger campaign I'd like to run next year, one that I've been planning for awhile.
This all takes place in a homebrew setting I've come up that is basically a giant amalgamation of a bunch of different things. Here is a link to the old game thread so you can see what it was like. And here is a link to the old Starter Guide I developed for the old game. I am in the middle of putting it all together on this Obsidian Portal website with a completed and fleshed wiki, it will take some time.
The In Character thread will be up tonight or tomorrow morning. We are finishing up the party selection. The party will start off as a Private Venturing Company on board the Silver Fortune, a Peninsula Trading Company halfing merchant airship heading towards Pascony from the exotic Marathi Empire.
Map of the World!
Talonrazor on
0
Posts
Internet Relay Chat
The original chat client.
We meet again, Talonrazor.
tumblr | instagram | twitter | steam
lvl 5 is my favorite starting point btw always fun for the character building, and gives a little wiggle room on how epic your back story can be.
Henry Teach, human cutthroat
the game assassino_O
EDIT: Okay, I have two character concepts, but I'd like to check them out with you and I have some questions about the world, should I PM, Talonrazor?
Submit Apps with a brief background and personality blurb and a link to an Orokos or Mythweaver sheet. If you got questions, jump on the IRC channel #criticalfailures. I hang out there most of the time.
You have no idea how tempting this now is for me. (GMT, the time suits me perfectly.)
3DS FCode: 1993-7512-8991
Yea, I figured this is probably more ideal for my European friends then anyone else. Be sure to flip through the Starter Guide, this setting is a tad different then FR or PoL.
Alas that is the EXACT time during the week I'd be unavailable to play. :? Oh well.
I still haven't received too many apps so I am thinking if I can't find a group that can play during those times I might have to wait until later or convert this to a PbP.
I am actually thinking about just swapping it to PbP at this point. I am starting a tabletop game as well and managing both campaigns with meets might be a bit much.
In fact, that is what I am going to do. I will just switch this over to PbP, with the caveat that sometime next year we might swap over to IRC once I get back from my Army school. How does that sound to everyone?
Hmmm.
She was rad.
tumblr | instagram | twitter | steam
Character creation is standard. 22 point buy system with standard GP and magic items. However, be warned that any true "magic" items or classes from arcane power source will result in being hunted down in the civilized parts of the world and even having bounty hunters and Inquisitors tracking you down.
You can still have magic items, just reflavor them to something non-magicy like clockwerk or expertly made, yadda yadda. Anything this overtly magical and can't be reflavor reasonably will still be considered magic. I am not dissuading anyone from having items or being arcane, just forewarning.
A fiesty, short-tempered little Kobold who doesn't take lightly to comments on his size or draconic likeness. You could ask those who found out the hard way, if they were still alive. Having killed a group of patrons at a bar over such comments he is now an outlaw on the run, keeping a low profile and disposing of those who intend to collect the bounty on his head.
Darkness swam around her, engulfing her in sweet coldness, a refreshing change from the hot, angry wounds that were tormenting her dying body. In the last moment of her life, she felt her body changing one last time, becoming another nameless victim that nobody would investigate too closely. The Fraternity already knew of her death, so her reflexes did not trigger to warn them of a threat by marking her corpse.
The Fraternity had ordered her death. Betrayal.
Miss closed her eyes, for the last time.
Awaken.
You have a duty.
The night and shadows wrapped around Miss like an old friend as she awoke, her unknown duty calling to her once again, keeping her from sleep. Miss rarely slept, her desire for vengeance and The Stranger's dark duty calling to her constantly. Only when exhaustion completely overwhelmed her did she let old mortal weakness overwhelm her.
And then, always the same dream. Ritt, stabbing her again and again, her deft hands no match for his experience and guile. Whatever they had said before the battle was gone, only his parting remark as she left her to drown in her own blood stuck with her. "Your brothers and sisters say goodbye, Miss."
Now, it was simply a matter of vengeance, and her duty to The Stranger. Vengeance came first.
Henry Teach, human cutthroat
the game assassino_O
Background:
... 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 the country, taking work where she can find it and hoping against hope that she finds something stable enough to sustain her.
Mannerisms:
I gave her a spear this time, 'cause spears are cool.
tumblr | instagram | twitter | steam
Kallon sighed as he walked past awe-struck children. He didn't need to check behind him to know they would now be following him for the rest of the day, if not the rest of his stay in the village. Yet another reason to collect his pay and be on his way. Getting the attention of every human he walked past had long since lost it's charm.
Walking out of town, Kallon couldn't let his foul mood prevent him from breaking a little smile. He patted the now full bag of gold hanging from his belt, and chuckled slightly. Humans overpaying for a dragonborn's service, would not be getting old any time soon.
The humans around here aren't too strong like back home but they sure are rich. All I need now is a few more good jobs like that and I can quit being a gloried errand boy and find me some real work worth doing. Maybe even find me a nice girl so mother can some disapproving of me from the grave...
Heh one thing at a time.
3DS Code: 5043-2172-1361
Xbone Tag: Salal al Din
Background:
Like many before him, though, his fame became his undoing. A younger Shifter, named Talon, framed Root for a crime punishable by excommunication.
Root cared little. His ties to the Leafscars were superficial, dictated by a family he barely spoke to. He wandered into the wild, with his large bow strapped to his back, and the spirits at his side.
Personality:
Background/Personality:
Certainly his arrival at King Pelindar's court was the cause of much speculation. After a brief audience with Pelindar's advisor he was summoned by the King to his private sitting room and from the following day became a fixture of the court. The nobility and several scores of knights took umbrage at the presumptuousness of this stranger and he was rarely seen within the hallways of the castle for the first few days due to the number of duels issued to him. What was not in doubt afterwards is that Shul Al'taq's style of fighting is undeniably Cyptian, no holds barred and most certainly lacking any of the finesse that a knight of any order would be willing to adopt. Later one of his opponent's bitterly called him "the dirtiest fighter to ever emerge from that wretched pit.....and there is no shortage of dirt in Cypta."
While the man's past is mysterious, he himself is not, both open, friendly and honest. (at times too much so for the nobility) His manners and bearing speak of a higher education than is usual and observant types have noted his speech lacks some of the characteristics of the native Cyptian and he moves with the unspoken confidence of a man with little left to prove to himself.
Summary:
Shul Al'taq, level 5
Human, Fighter
Fighter: Combat Superiority
Fighter Talents: Brawler Style
Versatile Expertise: Versatile Expertise (Heavy Blade)
Versatile Expertise: Versatile Expertise (Unarmed)
Background: Auspicious Birth (Auspicious Birth Benefit)
FINAL ABILITY SCORES
Str 18, Con 10, Dex 18, Int 10, Wis 13, Cha 8.
STARTING ABILITY SCORES
Str 15, Con 10, Dex 17, Int 10, Wis 13, Cha 8.
AC: 23 Fort: 22 Reflex: 18 Will: 15
HP: 57 Surges: 9 Surge Value: 14
TRAINED SKILLS
Endurance +7, Intimidate +6, Heal +8, Athletics +11
UNTRAINED SKILLS
Acrobatics +7, Arcana +2, Bluff +1, Diplomacy +1, Dungeoneering +3, History +2, Insight +3, Nature +3, Perception +3, Religion +2, Stealth +6, Streetwise +1, Thievery +6
FEATS
Human: Inescapable Hold
Level 1: Pin Down
Level 2: Headsman's Chop
Level 4: Versatile Expertise
POWERS
Bonus At-Will Power: Knockdown Assault
Fighter at-will 1: Footwork Lure
Fighter at-will 1: Grappling Strike
Fighter encounter 1: Bash and Pinion
Fighter daily 1: Villain's Menace
Fighter utility 2: Pass Forward
Fighter encounter 3: Slamming Rush
Fighter daily 5: Rain of Steel
ITEMS
Learning Scimitar +1, Summoned Drakescale Armor +2, Acrobat Boots (heroic tier), Spiked gauntlet, Frostwolf Pelt +1
====== Copy to Clipboard and Press the Import Button on the Summary Tab ======
I was messing around with the character builder last night tinkering with a fighter/hybrid when I tried throwing some brawler moves into it. They ended up being too much fun so I eventually ended up dropping the rogue entirely as brawler builds look to be a blast to play. I would be super excited to try him out.
Seekers don't count.
tumblr | instagram | twitter | steam
Puck Milamber "Grand Wizard and Entertainer"
Image:
Casting an awesome spell!
Background:
Puck thought as he walked through the streets of another magic hating town. Nobody likes wizards, not since the purge began. Magic was considered evil Puck knew it, and so did everybody else. As thoughts of the day wandered into Puck's mind he absentmindedly pet his dragonling as it wrapped his tail around Puck's arm and let out a low growl in happiness.
"Yes I know you need to be fed too don't ya...you fat lizard" Puck chuckled as his familiar looked at him as it puffed up in response to his master's joke.
As Puck walked through the town he caught the stares of countless children and the disgusting looks of their parents. With a quick smile and a wave of his Puck can turn most of the frowns to smiles as he uses the gifts he was given for the entertainment of the masses.
"How many times do you think we'll get inspected today? Two? Three?" Puck mused almost to himself.
It wasn't even noon and Puck has already been taken to the nearest depot to be inspected for magic. All of his vials were opened and he was even forced to divulge the secrets of his tricks that he shows. The disappearing coin, wand-to-flowers, and a few of the other mundane tricks were easy. It's always hard to explain how he does his finale, thankfully a vial of sparkly powder and a few creative lies about the origin of his dragonling he can usually get away with all his stuff.
Put let out a sly grin as he walked away...
Sometimes the best place to hide, is in plain sight
His dragonling echoed his thoughts as it yawned at him and promptly fell asleep on his arm
Submission Number 2 is less of a controller and is another striker...like we don't have enough already:
Revan Malak
Why do people ALWAYS stare at my horns! Revan thought as he noticed a pack of children pointing at him with mouths wide open. He contemplated scaring them but decided against it as he just wanted to keep a somewhat low profile. He could feel the anger and the rage of the world as he passed through it. He stuck his hands inside his pockets and for a brief second let the darker side of his mind take over as he imagined the torment he could inflict upon this small section of the world.
Revan sighed...again...as he resigned himself to the fact that he actually was trying to better himself, even in a world that hated every fiber of his being. He may not have been the most obident of students, but after he saw his master hunted down and killed he knew that he had to do something to change the world, because he was sure as hell wasn't going to put up with this until the day he dies.
I didn't give either of them equipment because I forgot what the rules were for 5th level characters, and I don't have my books on me. I can, however add the equipment fairly fast as soon as I know what the rules are.
Background
The oath of the Holy Inquisition...Hah what a fool I was the day that those words escaped my lips. I drank deeply from the chalice of their fear and misunderstanding and to this day the deeds done to fulfill that oath haunt my dreams and consciousness alike.
To hunt down and cleanse the practitioners of the arcane... for order...for civilization...how pretentious we were. Tho my eyes were not always opened to the truths of their blasphemy...No, long was I the loyal dog, The long arm of the Inquisition, my unit, all of us the noble Hounds of the Inquisition. Her hunters, we were charged with the disposal of those heretics who were considered “Unfit for Reeducation.” We were killers, all of us... Not a single mark of ours long survived our meeting, despite their boldest efforts. Divine runes were our weapons, and our shields, and along with our numbers and organization, the arcanes as we called them, were simply overwhelmed...
That’s ancient history now though...good laugh if you think on what caused the break up of the hounds actually...hah! Always a woman, am I right?...Quelenna... a beauty I shall not soon forget...how could I?! I can still remember our first meeting, that tavern, after the hunt, if she had known me for the monster I was, things would never have come to pass as they did. She didn’t see me for the scars or gore that often adorned my cloak and armor...no to her I was just a man in love with an idea, Prosperity for my people...It was some time 2 years if I recall from our first meeting that our forbidden affair met with its untimely end...and at the hands of my own unit, my own brothers in arms...
The Hounds had been called in, of course I had no idea, you could imagine the conflict of interests, to have to bring in my own finance...what man could do that?! I was betrayed twofold that day once by my bride to be, in secret a sorceress, incapable of controlling the power she had been cursed with at birth, because of the lack of those who could teach her control, largely the result of my past actions...and then again by my brothers, she had no control, she was afraid and her abilities spun out of control....lethal force was merited, that’s what the handbook read at least... The bastards, despite my best efforts I was unable to intervene as my beautiful Quelenna was run through... my brothers said as a parting gift they would allow me to walk away not subject to the persecution that typically befalls cohorts of the arcanes...
Let me walk free?...hardly...not now that my eyes were opened to the way of things...how could one control the arcane, when anyone who might teach them was dead, or too afraid to make their presence known?....our charge was not containing monsters, it was creating them...to stem the flow of innocent bloodshed, this hound is become a wolf with the radiant fangs of Erathis's justice!
Mannerism's/Appearance
Image
i like this one except the sword should be a hammer, and he should have a full sleve on his left arm.
Henry Teach, human cutthroat
the game assassino_O
The Monster Baru Cormorant - Seth Dickinson
Steam: Korvalain