Backstory: Osre is not exactly a native of Jigow but has been a frequent visitor through his life. He was born into a clan of goblins that made their home on a small herd of Horizonbacks that meandered up and down the shores of the Ifolon River trying to eke a living out of the land. Life with the clan was never especially easy or glamorous but it was fun and exciting and Osre grew to love travelling from one place to another even to the limited extent that their semi-nomadic lifestyle allowed. Still, he yearned for more and when he hit is 9th year he jumped at the chance to join the crew of a small seafaring vessel that had made port in Jigow.
The Wilting Flower was not the most seaworthy or best run vessel ever to hit the water, but for the next few years it was home to Osre. It sailed along the coast of the Emerald Gulch trading with the small villages along it shores, delving into the occasional bit of smuggling to get a few more coins that the Bright Queen's taxes would have claimed and even delved into a little light piracy against a few rival trading vessels now and then, though such was returned in kind. They always tried to make it back to Jigow for the Festival, however, and this year has proven to be no exception. The Wilting Flower is at the small port, single mast and leaky hull in all.
How many players are you looking for, you seem to have quite a few already. If you still have openings, I will fill out the rest of this application.
I have some ideas that have aROSEn in my mind. Maybe a LILAC tinted dragonborn barbarian (not seen that one yet), or maybe a FLOWing watER genasi druid.
I'm looking for about 4-5 players, but applications are still open! Feel free to go wither either idea.
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The ever growing document of character concepts can never be too long, can it?
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Rolling in! Ability scores: 12111714139 Awful! Total 61! Will be going Point Buy.
Questions: Is the truce between the empire and the dinasty recent? How long ago? Any problem with the character not being on his first life (due to consecution)? What is your favorite flower?
Rolling in! Ability scores: 1110119137 Awful! Total 61! Will be going Point Buy.
Questions: Is the truce between the empire and the dinasty recent? How long ago? Any problem with the character not being on his first life (due to consecution)? What is your favorite flower?
1. The truce has been in place for close to a year by this point. 2. I'm more than fine with consecuted characters. If someone does want to make a character who has undergone consecution, would just like to say think about the character's opinions on it! 3. Probably Crocus for a favorite flower.
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The ever growing document of character concepts can never be too long, can it?
Backstory: Vellia came from a poor family with just enough money for a home and a meal everyday. Her village was in the middle of a war zone and they were hurt the most because of it. One day a group of musicians passed by her village showing off their songs. When they played it almost felt like the crowd was swept away into the song. That moment she knew she knew that was what she wanted to be and how to change the world. She stole one of those musicians spare instruments so she could experiment and learn how to play it on her own. The first instrument she learnt was a flute. After a few years, even if the war was over she still wanted to change the world and prevent more wars from happening.By then she had mastered the flute and decided to travel and share her songs with the rest of the world. On one of her performances there were a group of talent scouts looking for students that could be fit for the College of Lore. They were very impressed by her music and accepted her with a scholarship that paid for almost everything. During her years in the college she had heard so much of Jigow’s Festival of Merit. After she was free, her first stop was already planned. She was going to enter the Festival of Merit.
I have an idea for a Firbolg Circle of Stars Druid from the Greying Wildlands.
Character Name: Adra Wintersong Race: Firbolg Class/Subclass: Druid/Circle of Stars Backstory: Adra Wintersong has been on her own and caring for her younger brother for as long as she can remember in the frozen tundra of the Greying Wildlands. Taking care of him and ensuring he can survive and knows how to survive on his own. She has never met another Firbolg in her life and as always wonder about her kind. Recently her brother has proven that he can survive on his own, at least for a while. This finally gave her the freedom to venture out into the world to try and find other firbolgs and just explore in general. Jigow is her first stop in Xhorhas in her journey out of the Greying Wildlands.
My other idea is for a Lotsuden Halfling Path of Mercy Monk from Charis.
Character Name: Gracey Wildvale Race: Lotsuden Halfling Class/Subclass: Monk/Path of Mercy Backstory: Gracey Wildvale has never felt at home in small village of Charis. Her built in physicality and general disdain for settling down has left her on the outskirts of her society. She had never left before due to her close relationship with her grandfather. But the recent death of her grandfather has finally freed her from her tether to Charis. Her first goal was to travel north, and just travel. On her journey north she heard rumors of a festival in Jigow and immediately wanted to partake in the frivolity, and food.
Character Name: Boosandei 'Boo' Belfrye Race: Dhampir Class/Subclass: Warlock Level 2 (Patron: The Undead) / Sorcerer (Origin: Aberrant Mind)
Appearance
Boo is a rail-thin, gaunt, petite, human female street waif with a creepy child-like appearance making it difficult to gauge exactly how old she is due to her delicate features, stunted size, and small frame. She always seems to have a sad look on her face as if frightened or worried. On either side of her small mouth... old scars of crude dreadful stitch marks are apparent and seem to draw unwanted glances towards her pale haunted face. A wild unkempt mane of shoulder-length hair hangs loosely around her face; one side raven black, while the other is a stark contrast... being a dead silver-white. Her skin is a pale and chalky white... almost corpse-like while her eyes are bottomless pools of darkness. Looking into them is like gazing into an endless stretch of midnight sky. Boo's attire is like that of a common street-urchin... dirty clothes scavenged, scrounged, and pieced together with rags and such. Her second-hand studded leather armor is likewise made of bits and pieces of rubbish cobbled together... and hanging at her belt are a matched pair of two ancient-looking rusty daggers that have seen better days.
Backstory
Boosandei (Boo) and her twin-sister Loosandei (Loo), were street urchins who grew up on the streets of Jigow, orphaned, and poor. They had no one to watch over them or to provide for them, so they learned to provide for themselves relying only on each other. They fought fiercely over food and kept a constant watch out for others who might steal from them or do them harm. They slept on rooftops and in alleyways... exposed to the elements.
Late one evening they took refuge for the night at a cemetery on the edge of the city in a mausoleum when through the darkness and fog an emaciated man with dirt and grit all over his once fine clothes came upon the pair. His dark grey shirt was tattered and shredded mainly where his heart should be. Boo and her sister gazed upon his cruel, detestable, disturbing smile locked in a permanent sinister snarl. Sunken, milky white eyes stared with mindless menace into theirs.
In sheer panic, the two girls fled in a feeble attempt to escape the creature when they came upon an open sewer that cut across their path. Loo instinctively pushed her sister into the filthy muck. The first thing that hit Boo was the foul odor; a mixture of something rotten and something dead so overpowering was the horrible stench. Boo gasped for breath as her sister's hands desperately tried to push her down under. Loo cried out, "Boo... hold your breath, don't let go, I feel it coming! Hold your breath, don't let go, I feel it coming!!! Far away, something calls... On the edge of it all... Face the fire, let it come... On the edge of it all..."
Boo suddenly felt Loo ripped away from her grasping hand, her sister screaming as the darkling creature flayed her alive with its teeth and claws. Loo's last conscious act was to push her sister under the water with her kicking feet... and then to ignite the oily film on the surface of the rancid pool in a rather explosive manner! Boo just under the surface of the water was spared most (but not all) of the effects of the searing blast of heat as it roared like a living thing over her head. Loo's screams were now silenced replaced by the fiendish howls from their tormentor. Flinging Loo's burning corpse off to the side it reached into the burning water and grabbed hold of Boo's face with its clawed hand slicing the soft flesh on either side of her mouth. Searing pain and a flash of light then darkness fell over Boo.
Some hours later Boo's eyes fluttered open. A slushing sound, probably of water, told her that she was awake. She could feel the damp bloody earth beneath her as she bled from a number of wounds inflicted upon her frail form. As she struggled to sit up not a sign of the creature could be seen, and the only part of her twin left was her severed half-burned right hand.
Boo silently, stubbornly refusing to die, to give up, began to tear bits of her own clothes into strips to dress her wounds, using the strings from her sister's viol to sew up the torn flesh on either side of her mouth before once more passing out. At the very edge of death, Boo struck a bargain and made a pact with an otherworldly undead being and was forever changed...
Ability Scores: STR 13, DEX 10, CON 14+2, INT 13+1, WIS 16, CHA 12
Character Name: Shattergrin (previously Caeldrim Lathalas)
Race: Hobgoblin (previously drow)
Class/Subclass: Cleric, Order (Bane)
Backstory: (Acolyte) A well-liked holy man in his previous life, Caeldrim was selected for consecution to preserve his knowledge and altruism. Upon his unexpected death and rebirth as a hobgoblin, he should have been protected from the Curse of Strife, but for reasons unknown, he now feels the influence of Bane more strongly than any other force. Fearing this is an omen of Bane's return to the world, the creature now known as Shattergrin attempts to spread the dark word of the Strife Lord, because those who follow Bane shall be spared the god's wrath, and he cares deeply about saving as many as possible.
He arrives in Jigow in search of his half-remembered sacred texts, praying they hold some contradiction to the dark future he sees. He wears a flower pinned to his armor in an attempt to show that he was once a civilized man.
Ability Scores: STR 19 DEX 15 CON 16 INT 12 WIS 12 CHA 13 Character Name: Orthak Race: Goliath Class/Subclass: Barbarian Backstory: Orphaned at a young age, Orthak grew up having to fight extra hard for his spot in the clan. Through many trials have tested him he always rose to the occasion rising in fame within his clans ranks and earning the attention of the Chief who quickly gave him command of small number of fellow Goliaths tasked with securing the safety of the clan. The chief used this group of warriors selfishly though and for personal gain. One day Orthak was ordered to take his unit to a neighboring encampment that begun to get to close for the chiefs liking or so Orthak was told. In reality it was a group of mercenaries hired to out the chief as his greed began to affect the areas general populace. Orthaks men were ambushed and slaughtered and upon realizing his Chiefs role in the deaths, left the Clan for good to search for something more noble to fight for...like himself.
“I have the right to choose…” Kauphyn started again.
“No,” he said again, flatly, not bothering to look up from the bowl he ate from.
“You don’t have the…”
“No,” he repeated yet again. No emotion, no expression and no shifting of position.
Kauphyn cursed and spat to his left.This, at least, got a reaction.Dubh looked up from his bowl and looked at the young Tiefling for the first time. He had removed his aba, a light desert cloak, upon entering the tent and he did not flinch under the scrutiny.Average height, scrawny but wiry of build, he had skin that was ivory white and short hair that was a dark purplish blue. He stood like a warrior and the scimitar on his hip was always at the ready, he knew.
Dubh’s own blade stood within reach, of course, and he had given it a thought, for spitting within the tent of another…. But he restrained himself for he knew the tensions that were writhing within the man-boy before him.“No,” he repeated yet again, setting his bowl down and leaning back into a more readied position.
They live in the hollows, shadows and caves of Blightshore - The unwanted in an unwanted land. They are a huge, varied tribe but the are scattered and far flung, living in small knots of people. It is easier to provide for one another in that way, and allows for quick, agile movement either to opportunity or away from danger. Life in Blightshore is difficult at best; for the Dhiabhal, it represents a true test of spirit as they weather the persistent chaos of Blightshore's terrain.The Diabhal are travellers, warriors, fierce and proud but generous and humble.They claim all of the Blightshore as their birthright and will face any they feel are invading upon their lands, but they too are quick to help and guide any they find passing through on journeys of discovery and replenishment.There are eternal clashes with the creatures and monstrosities of the Blightshore, though it is through these hardships and trial that they prove themselves worthy….
The origin of the Diabhal is unclear and the subject of various contradictory stories amongst themselves, the most accepted always being the most well told and entertaining.A general consensus seems to agree upon some kind of Tiefling origin but are they descendants of the Betrayer Gods left behind and forgotten, did they claw up and out of the wastes of Blightshore itself or migrate here as outcasts and the banished of unwelcoming and unaccepting Dwendalian cities?It matters not, they are here and here is home and all who live as Diabhal, follow the ways of Diabhal and defend Diabhal are Diabhal be they born into it or adopted through trial.
At the age of twelve, like all children of the tribe, Kauphyn had to choose between staying with the tribe and becoming a Member of the Wasted or taking up the sword and becoming a Defender of the Blighted. Kauphyn chose the way of the sword.At eighteen he made another choice…
Kauphyn narrowed his eyes and looked into those of Dubh.He had no title, he was not elected or chosen but he was the leader of this particular tribe.Everyone just knew it.If Kauphyn had any doubts they were gone now having looked so deeply into him.Still, he had made his choice and would not be denied.Not by him.Not by anything.
The tent was temporary, as all things are, but lavish.There was a comfortable bed, several low tables with comfortable pillows around them upon which to sit and several chests and crates which held the tribes goods.One only owns what one can carry, the rest belongs to the tribe.Dubh did not own this tent, these luxuries or the contents of the chests, but he did guard them. For the tribe.
I will be a Sword Dancer, Kauphyn assured himself and stepped further into the tent. He knew which chest they were held in.Everyone knew. He strode to it confidently, outwardly at least. He dropped into a squat in front of the chest and put a hand on either side of the lid. Kauphyn momentarily dropped his head in reverence and then raised the lid and revealed the scimitars within.The whole time he expected Dubh to try to stop him, to attack him… To say something.Nothing.
The weapons were not magical, were not masterpieces of craftsmanship nor were they sacred or rare.But they were the tribes weapons.You got one when you declared your intent to be a Defender of the Blighted.You then had to prove yourself and your right to wield the tribe’s weapon.
Only the Sword Dancers got a second.A handful of Sword Dancers walked the wastes at any one time for joining their ranks required dedication, skill, sacrifice and a dance that none can deny makes you worthy of the title.Any Defender can take a second sword and make the attempt, few did.Fewer still succeeded.
Kauphyn reached into the chest and grabbed his second sword at random for it was the doing that mattered, not which was taken. He stood and silently strapped the weapon to his free hip. Kauphyn then turned, his eyes briefly falling on Dubh but he refused to let them linger lest he thought it signaled fear. He then walked to the flap of the tent, took up his aba and wrapped it about himself.She raised his hands to pull the hood up over his head and couldn’t help but pause.
“You aren’t trying to stop me?” Kauphyn asked, letting a bit of doubt seep into his voice for the first time.
“No,” Dubh replied.
“It is my right to take up the second sword.My right to walk beyond they wastes, to make my path, to weave my dance.My right to set myself against the challenge and prove myself,” Kauphyn stated boldly, almost as if to convince himself.“I shall return.You’ll see.”
“No,” Dubh said with a sigh.“You died once you took up the second sword.You are banished.Pariah.Cast out and outcast from even the cast out and outcasts.Gods willing a Sword Dancer shall return in your place… But you? This boy I see before me named Kauphyn will not return...”
Kauphyn started to say… something.But he knew not what.It was true, no matter what happened going forward he was already different now than he was just minutes ago. He turned his eyes to Dubh once more and allowed his eyes to drop.
“I am sorry,” he said as he raised his hood up to hide his face until he strode out of the sands and upon his new path.“That I spit in your tent…” and with that he walked out of the tent, out of the tribe and out of the wastes…. Time to weave his dance, prove his worth and then return worthy of the title of Sword Dancer.
Character Name: Arzin Thorngage Race: Stout Halfling Class/Subclass: Paladin Backstory: Grew up with a mother and father. Visited a temple one day. Liked the idea of being able to heal and help people. Decided to travel to help more people.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Ability Scores: Ability scores: 171112141213 Character Name: An'khor Osirion Race: Goliath Class/Subclass: Druid/Circle of Stars Backstory: An'Khor has come to Xhorhas seeking understanding. A shaman in training the young goliath was gifted with intellect and wisdom to possibly lead the tribe spiritually but upon taking an ancient rite of passage to begin their journey into the realm of shamanhood something unexpected happened. Their skin became translucent and sparkled like stars. Unheard of except by the current Shaman of their tribe An'Khor was told they have entered a rare realm of divine beings. The stars. he was a rare Circle of Star's Druid which is born to the tribe in rare circumstances. It is unknown what causes this to occur but, like the circle of Stars druid before An'Khor, he must go on a journey to seek answers. Having been prepared and equipped by their tribe and well wishes of a safe return An'Khor left for the lands of Xhorhas at their shaman's behest. There is something there that connects An'Khor, his tribe and his past to a more powerful spiritual realm. Something no other circle of stars druid has found before. An'Khor only hopes he will be the first, or he too will be lost to the tribe forever as no other Circle of Stars druid has ever returned. The beginning of his quest has led him to a town called Jigow.
Gonna let the character idea I had flowering bloom.
Character Name: Mara Agua Character Sheet: https://ddb.ac/characters/69152489/YA4ay8 Race: Water Genasi (EE) Class/Subclass: Druid, Circle of the Land, Coast Backstory: Mara Agua isn't sure where she came from or who her birth parents were. Raised by wolves, she's only ever known the forest and coasts of her wild home. Throughout her life she's seen a couple generations of her pack come and go, sharing joy with a new litter or sorrow with the fall of an old pack mate. But in addition to her wolf family, she's also made great acquaintances with other druids in the wild. Her mentor, an old centaur by the name of Jinete Sabio, was a dear friend whose passing was hard on her. But she persevered, dedicating herself to keeping watch over the land. But while she prefers to stay in the great outdoors, she does take trips time and time again into villages or meet up with travelers to get goods or share stories. On one of those recent trips she came across a traveler talking about the competitions in Jigow. And while she loved her life in the woods, a chance to prove her skills against those of others sounded like an intriguing prospect.
Character Name: Kit Venice Race: Half Elf (Dark Elf heritage) Class/Subclass: Echoknight / Hexblade Backstory: "An eye for eye" they say. Kit was a soldier, an orphan picked off the street by a General on his way to another war. He'd thought he was just an expendable child soldier, but for the first time, the army and the General had shown him he was not cannon fodder. How he'd wished he just starved to death in the streets, and had never known the kinship of his squadron. He lost his brothers in arms, his mentor the General, and all that taught him there was light in the world not even on the battlefield. A spoilt Noble, tricking his squad to retrieve an artefact, but instead they were just sacrifice to open the doors to the temple. The Noble had thought it was a dead-end, leaving the temple empty-handed in rage, never knowing Kit survived. Inserting the artefact, Eye of Dormaka, into his empty eye socket from the blade of Noble, he exchanged his life for a chance of vengeance. After leaving a flower on his brothers' graves, he headed towards the Festival of Merit, where the Noble was last seen on his path to revenge.
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Ability scores: 14 13 12 10 12 10
Will return later and complete :)
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop
Osre
Race: Goblin
Class: Rogue 1/Fighter 2
Backstory: Osre is not exactly a native of Jigow but has been a frequent visitor through his life. He was born into a clan of goblins that made their home on a small herd of Horizonbacks that meandered up and down the shores of the Ifolon River trying to eke a living out of the land. Life with the clan was never especially easy or glamorous but it was fun and exciting and Osre grew to love travelling from one place to another even to the limited extent that their semi-nomadic lifestyle allowed. Still, he yearned for more and when he hit is 9th year he jumped at the chance to join the crew of a small seafaring vessel that had made port in Jigow.
The Wilting Flower was not the most seaworthy or best run vessel ever to hit the water, but for the next few years it was home to Osre. It sailed along the coast of the Emerald Gulch trading with the small villages along it shores, delving into the occasional bit of smuggling to get a few more coins that the Bright Queen's taxes would have claimed and even delved into a little light piracy against a few rival trading vessels now and then, though such was returned in kind. They always tried to make it back to Jigow for the Festival, however, and this year has proven to be no exception. The Wilting Flower is at the small port, single mast and leaky hull in all.
I'm looking for about 4-5 players, but applications are still open! Feel free to go wither either idea.
The ever growing document of character concepts can never be too long, can it?
Ability scores: 14 14 12 15 15 15
Character Name:
Race:
Class/Subclass:
Backstory:
Rolling in!
Ability scores: 12 11 17 14 13 9
Awful! Total 61! Will be going Point Buy.
Questions:
Is the truce between the empire and the dinasty recent? How long ago?
Any problem with the character not being on his first life (due to consecution)?
What is your favorite flower?
1. The truce has been in place for close to a year by this point.
2. I'm more than fine with consecuted characters. If someone does want to make a character who has undergone consecution, would just like to say think about the character's opinions on it!
3. Probably Crocus for a favorite flower.
The ever growing document of character concepts can never be too long, can it?
Idk how to roll in the thread so I’ll give you the link https://www.dndbeyond.com/sheet-pdfs/anangames21_80566669.pdf
Name: Vellia
Race: Half Elf
Class: Bard
Backstory: Vellia came from a poor family with just enough money for a home and a meal everyday. Her village was in the middle of a war zone and they were hurt the most because of it. One day a group of musicians passed by her village showing off their songs. When they played it almost felt like the crowd was swept away into the song. That moment she knew she knew that was what she wanted to be and how to change the world. She stole one of those musicians spare instruments so she could experiment and learn how to play it on her own. The first instrument she learnt was a flute. After a few years, even if the war was over she still wanted to change the world and prevent more wars from happening.By then she had mastered the flute and decided to travel and share her songs with the rest of the world. On one of her performances there were a group of talent scouts looking for students that could be fit for the College of Lore. They were very impressed by her music and accepted her with a scholarship that paid for almost everything. During her years in the college she had heard so much of Jigow’s Festival of Merit. After she was free, her first stop was already planned. She was going to enter the Festival of Merit.
Ability scores: 14 14 9 14 10 17
I have an idea for a Firbolg Circle of Stars Druid from the Greying Wildlands.
Character Name: Adra Wintersong
Race: Firbolg
Class/Subclass: Druid/Circle of Stars
Backstory: Adra Wintersong has been on her own and caring for her younger brother for as long as she can remember in the frozen tundra of the Greying Wildlands. Taking care of him and ensuring he can survive and knows how to survive on his own. She has never met another Firbolg in her life and as always wonder about her kind. Recently her brother has proven that he can survive on his own, at least for a while. This finally gave her the freedom to venture out into the world to try and find other firbolgs and just explore in general. Jigow is her first stop in Xhorhas in her journey out of the Greying Wildlands.
My other idea is for a Lotsuden Halfling Path of Mercy Monk from Charis.
Character Name: Gracey Wildvale
Race: Lotsuden Halfling
Class/Subclass: Monk/Path of Mercy
Backstory: Gracey Wildvale has never felt at home in small village of Charis. Her built in physicality and general disdain for settling down has left her on the outskirts of her society. She had never left before due to her close relationship with her grandfather. But the recent death of her grandfather has finally freed her from her tether to Charis. Her first goal was to travel north, and just travel. On her journey north she heard rumors of a festival in Jigow and immediately wanted to partake in the frivolity, and food.
Ability Scores: 8 11 11 13 10 13
https://ddb.ac/characters/35791223/MQsiX5
Character Name: Boosandei 'Boo' Belfrye
Race: Dhampir
Class/Subclass: Warlock Level 2 (Patron: The Undead) / Sorcerer (Origin: Aberrant Mind)
Appearance
Boo is a rail-thin, gaunt, petite, human female street waif with a creepy child-like appearance making it difficult to gauge exactly how old she is due to her delicate features, stunted size, and small frame. She always seems to have a sad look on her face as if frightened or worried. On either side of her small mouth... old scars of crude dreadful stitch marks are apparent and seem to draw unwanted glances towards her pale haunted face. A wild unkempt mane of shoulder-length hair hangs loosely around her face; one side raven black, while the other is a stark contrast... being a dead silver-white. Her skin is a pale and chalky white... almost corpse-like while her eyes are bottomless pools of darkness. Looking into them is like gazing into an endless stretch of midnight sky. Boo's attire is like that of a common street-urchin... dirty clothes scavenged, scrounged, and pieced together with rags and such. Her second-hand studded leather armor is likewise made of bits and pieces of rubbish cobbled together... and hanging at her belt are a matched pair of two ancient-looking rusty daggers that have seen better days.
Backstory
Boosandei (Boo) and her twin-sister Loosandei (Loo), were street urchins who grew up on the streets of Jigow, orphaned, and poor. They had no one to watch over them or to provide for them, so they learned to provide for themselves relying only on each other. They fought fiercely over food and kept a constant watch out for others who might steal from them or do them harm. They slept on rooftops and in alleyways... exposed to the elements.
Late one evening they took refuge for the night at a cemetery on the edge of the city in a mausoleum when through the darkness and fog an emaciated man with dirt and grit all over his once fine clothes came upon the pair. His dark grey shirt was tattered and shredded mainly where his heart should be. Boo and her sister gazed upon his cruel, detestable, disturbing smile locked in a permanent sinister snarl. Sunken, milky white eyes stared with mindless menace into theirs.
In sheer panic, the two girls fled in a feeble attempt to escape the creature when they came upon an open sewer that cut across their path. Loo instinctively pushed her sister into the filthy muck. The first thing that hit Boo was the foul odor; a mixture of something rotten and something dead so overpowering was the horrible stench. Boo gasped for breath as her sister's hands desperately tried to push her down under. Loo cried out, "Boo... hold your breath, don't let go, I feel it coming! Hold your breath, don't let go, I feel it coming!!! Far away, something calls... On the edge of it all... Face the fire, let it come... On the edge of it all..."
Boo suddenly felt Loo ripped away from her grasping hand, her sister screaming as the darkling creature flayed her alive with its teeth and claws. Loo's last conscious act was to push her sister under the water with her kicking feet... and then to ignite the oily film on the surface of the rancid pool in a rather explosive manner! Boo just under the surface of the water was spared most (but not all) of the effects of the searing blast of heat as it roared like a living thing over her head. Loo's screams were now silenced replaced by the fiendish howls from their tormentor. Flinging Loo's burning corpse off to the side it reached into the burning water and grabbed hold of Boo's face with its clawed hand slicing the soft flesh on either side of her mouth. Searing pain and a flash of light then darkness fell over Boo.
Some hours later Boo's eyes fluttered open. A slushing sound, probably of water, told her that she was awake. She could feel the damp bloody earth beneath her as she bled from a number of wounds inflicted upon her frail form. As she struggled to sit up not a sign of the creature could be seen, and the only part of her twin left was her severed half-burned right hand.
Boo silently, stubbornly refusing to die, to give up, began to tear bits of her own clothes into strips to dress her wounds, using the strings from her sister's viol to sew up the torn flesh on either side of her mouth before once more passing out. At the very edge of death, Boo struck a bargain and made a pact with an otherworldly undead being and was forever changed...
Ability scores: 10 7 13 17 14 11
Ability Scores: STR 13, DEX 10, CON 14+2, INT 13+1, WIS 16, CHA 12
Character Name: Shattergrin (previously Caeldrim Lathalas)
Race: Hobgoblin (previously drow)
Class/Subclass: Cleric, Order (Bane)
Backstory: (Acolyte) A well-liked holy man in his previous life, Caeldrim was selected for consecution to preserve his knowledge and altruism. Upon his unexpected death and rebirth as a hobgoblin, he should have been protected from the Curse of Strife, but for reasons unknown, he now feels the influence of Bane more strongly than any other force. Fearing this is an omen of Bane's return to the world, the creature now known as Shattergrin attempts to spread the dark word of the Strife Lord, because those who follow Bane shall be spared the god's wrath, and he cares deeply about saving as many as possible.
He arrives in Jigow in search of his half-remembered sacred texts, praying they hold some contradiction to the dark future he sees. He wears a flower pinned to his armor in an attempt to show that he was once a civilized man.
Ability Scores: STR 19 DEX 15 CON 16 INT 12 WIS 12 CHA 13
Character Name: Orthak
Race: Goliath
Class/Subclass: Barbarian
Backstory: Orphaned at a young age, Orthak grew up having to fight extra hard for his spot in the clan. Through many trials have tested him he always rose to the occasion rising in fame within his clans ranks and earning the attention of the Chief who quickly gave him command of small number of fellow Goliaths tasked with securing the safety of the clan. The chief used this group of warriors selfishly though and for personal gain. One day Orthak was ordered to take his unit to a neighboring encampment that begun to get to close for the chiefs liking or so Orthak was told. In reality it was a group of mercenaries hired to out the chief as his greed began to affect the areas general populace. Orthaks men were ambushed and slaughtered and upon realizing his Chiefs role in the deaths, left the Clan for good to search for something more noble to fight for...like himself.
Ability scores: 11 13 11 13 13 10
Crap rolls but I chose to roll so I'll use them...
Application Template
Ability Scores: Quoted above
Character Name: Kauphyn https://ddb.ac/characters/80146147/0vQaVL
Race: Custom Lineage (Tiefling)
Class/Subclass: Sword Dancer (or Barbarian 1 / Rogue 1 / Fighter 1)
Backstory:
“I want my second sword,” Kauphyn stated.
“No.”
“I have the right to choose…” Kauphyn started again.
“No,” he said again, flatly, not bothering to look up from the bowl he ate from.
“You don’t have the…”
“No,” he repeated yet again. No emotion, no expression and no shifting of position.
Kauphyn cursed and spat to his left. This, at least, got a reaction. Dubh looked up from his bowl and looked at the young Tiefling for the first time. He had removed his aba, a light desert cloak, upon entering the tent and he did not flinch under the scrutiny. Average height, scrawny but wiry of build, he had skin that was ivory white and short hair that was a dark purplish blue. He stood like a warrior and the scimitar on his hip was always at the ready, he knew.
Dubh’s own blade stood within reach, of course, and he had given it a thought, for spitting within the tent of another…. But he restrained himself for he knew the tensions that were writhing within the man-boy before him. “No,” he repeated yet again, setting his bowl down and leaning back into a more readied position.
They live in the hollows, shadows and caves of Blightshore - The unwanted in an unwanted land. They are a huge, varied tribe but the are scattered and far flung, living in small knots of people. It is easier to provide for one another in that way, and allows for quick, agile movement either to opportunity or away from danger. Life in Blightshore is difficult at best; for the Dhiabhal, it represents a true test of spirit as they weather the persistent chaos of Blightshore's terrain. The Diabhal are travellers, warriors, fierce and proud but generous and humble. They claim all of the Blightshore as their birthright and will face any they feel are invading upon their lands, but they too are quick to help and guide any they find passing through on journeys of discovery and replenishment. There are eternal clashes with the creatures and monstrosities of the Blightshore, though it is through these hardships and trial that they prove themselves worthy….
The origin of the Diabhal is unclear and the subject of various contradictory stories amongst themselves, the most accepted always being the most well told and entertaining. A general consensus seems to agree upon some kind of Tiefling origin but are they descendants of the Betrayer Gods left behind and forgotten, did they claw up and out of the wastes of Blightshore itself or migrate here as outcasts and the banished of unwelcoming and unaccepting Dwendalian cities? It matters not, they are here and here is home and all who live as Diabhal, follow the ways of Diabhal and defend Diabhal are Diabhal be they born into it or adopted through trial.
At the age of twelve, like all children of the tribe, Kauphyn had to choose between staying with the tribe and becoming a Member of the Wasted or taking up the sword and becoming a Defender of the Blighted. Kauphyn chose the way of the sword. At eighteen he made another choice…
Kauphyn narrowed his eyes and looked into those of Dubh. He had no title, he was not elected or chosen but he was the leader of this particular tribe. Everyone just knew it. If Kauphyn had any doubts they were gone now having looked so deeply into him. Still, he had made his choice and would not be denied. Not by him. Not by anything.
The tent was temporary, as all things are, but lavish. There was a comfortable bed, several low tables with comfortable pillows around them upon which to sit and several chests and crates which held the tribes goods. One only owns what one can carry, the rest belongs to the tribe. Dubh did not own this tent, these luxuries or the contents of the chests, but he did guard them. For the tribe.
I will be a Sword Dancer, Kauphyn assured himself and stepped further into the tent. He knew which chest they were held in. Everyone knew. He strode to it confidently, outwardly at least. He dropped into a squat in front of the chest and put a hand on either side of the lid. Kauphyn momentarily dropped his head in reverence and then raised the lid and revealed the scimitars within. The whole time he expected Dubh to try to stop him, to attack him… To say something. Nothing.
The weapons were not magical, were not masterpieces of craftsmanship nor were they sacred or rare. But they were the tribes weapons. You got one when you declared your intent to be a Defender of the Blighted. You then had to prove yourself and your right to wield the tribe’s weapon.
Only the Sword Dancers got a second. A handful of Sword Dancers walked the wastes at any one time for joining their ranks required dedication, skill, sacrifice and a dance that none can deny makes you worthy of the title. Any Defender can take a second sword and make the attempt, few did. Fewer still succeeded.
Kauphyn reached into the chest and grabbed his second sword at random for it was the doing that mattered, not which was taken. He stood and silently strapped the weapon to his free hip. Kauphyn then turned, his eyes briefly falling on Dubh but he refused to let them linger lest he thought it signaled fear. He then walked to the flap of the tent, took up his aba and wrapped it about himself. She raised his hands to pull the hood up over his head and couldn’t help but pause.
“You aren’t trying to stop me?” Kauphyn asked, letting a bit of doubt seep into his voice for the first time.
“No,” Dubh replied.
“It is my right to take up the second sword. My right to walk beyond they wastes, to make my path, to weave my dance. My right to set myself against the challenge and prove myself,” Kauphyn stated boldly, almost as if to convince himself. “I shall return. You’ll see.”
“No,” Dubh said with a sigh. “You died once you took up the second sword. You are banished. Pariah. Cast out and outcast from even the cast out and outcasts. Gods willing a Sword Dancer shall return in your place… But you? This boy I see before me named Kauphyn will not return...”
Kauphyn started to say… something. But he knew not what. It was true, no matter what happened going forward he was already different now than he was just minutes ago. He turned his eyes to Dubh once more and allowed his eyes to drop.
“I am sorry,” he said as he raised his hood up to hide his face until he strode out of the sands and upon his new path. “That I spit in your tent…” and with that he walked out of the tent, out of the tribe and out of the wastes…. Time to weave his dance, prove his worth and then return worthy of the title of Sword Dancer.
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop
Ability scores: 10 11 15 12 14 13
Character Name: Arzin Thorngage
Race: Stout Halfling
Class/Subclass: Paladin
Backstory: Grew up with a mother and father. Visited a temple one day. Liked the idea of being able to heal and help people. Decided to travel to help more people.
https://www.dndbeyond.com/characters/80724931
Ability scores: 9 11 16 12 11 14
Real Life Healbot
Ability Scores: Ability scores: 17 11 12 14 12 13
Character Name: An'khor Osirion
Race: Goliath
Class/Subclass: Druid/Circle of Stars
Backstory: An'Khor has come to Xhorhas seeking understanding. A shaman in training the young goliath was gifted with intellect and wisdom to possibly lead the tribe spiritually but upon taking an ancient rite of passage to begin their journey into the realm of shamanhood something unexpected happened. Their skin became translucent and sparkled like stars. Unheard of except by the current Shaman of their tribe An'Khor was told they have entered a rare realm of divine beings. The stars. he was a rare Circle of Star's Druid which is born to the tribe in rare circumstances. It is unknown what causes this to occur but, like the circle of Stars druid before An'Khor, he must go on a journey to seek answers. Having been prepared and equipped by their tribe and well wishes of a safe return An'Khor left for the lands of Xhorhas at their shaman's behest. There is something there that connects An'Khor, his tribe and his past to a more powerful spiritual realm. Something no other circle of stars druid has found before. An'Khor only hopes he will be the first, or he too will be lost to the tribe forever as no other Circle of Stars druid has ever returned. The beginning of his quest has led him to a town called Jigow.
Gonna let the character idea I had flowering bloom.
Character Name: Mara Agua
Character Sheet: https://ddb.ac/characters/69152489/YA4ay8
Race: Water Genasi (EE)
Class/Subclass: Druid, Circle of the Land, Coast
Backstory: Mara Agua isn't sure where she came from or who her birth parents were. Raised by wolves, she's only ever known the forest and coasts of her wild home. Throughout her life she's seen a couple generations of her pack come and go, sharing joy with a new litter or sorrow with the fall of an old pack mate. But in addition to her wolf family, she's also made great acquaintances with other druids in the wild. Her mentor, an old centaur by the name of Jinete Sabio, was a dear friend whose passing was hard on her. But she persevered, dedicating herself to keeping watch over the land. But while she prefers to stay in the great outdoors, she does take trips time and time again into villages or meet up with travelers to get goods or share stories. On one of those recent trips she came across a traveler talking about the competitions in Jigow. And while she loved her life in the woods, a chance to prove her skills against those of others sounded like an intriguing prospect.
This is a signature. It was a simple signature. But it has been upgraded.
Bel, Aarakocra Hunter Ranger, Friend Campaign
Screechirk, Aarakocra Light Cleric, Wages of Vice
Darath, Goliath Battlemaster, Into the Overlap
Draíocht, Wood Elf Moon Druid, Kholias
Eggo Lass, Drow GOOlock, 100 Dungeons
Drako, Dragonborn Tempest Cleric, Dragon of Icespire Peak
Phait, Mountain Dwarf Wild Magic Sorcerer, Shadowglass
Get rickrolled here. Listen to awesome music here. (selection 27, 4/23/24, One Voice)
(Withdrawing my application to focus on the PBPs I’m already in. Have fun in this campaign everyone!)
Ability scores: 10 17 14 11 16 17
Character Name: Kit Venice
Race: Half Elf (Dark Elf heritage)
Class/Subclass: Echoknight / Hexblade
Backstory: "An eye for eye" they say. Kit was a soldier, an orphan picked off the street by a General on his way to another war. He'd thought he was just an expendable child soldier, but for the first time, the army and the General had shown him he was not cannon fodder. How he'd wished he just starved to death in the streets, and had never known the kinship of his squadron. He lost his brothers in arms, his mentor the General, and all that taught him there was light in the world not even on the battlefield. A spoilt Noble, tricking his squad to retrieve an artefact, but instead they were just sacrifice to open the doors to the temple. The Noble had thought it was a dead-end, leaving the temple empty-handed in rage, never knowing Kit survived. Inserting the artefact, Eye of Dormaka, into his empty eye socket from the blade of Noble, he exchanged his life for a chance of vengeance. After leaving a flower on his brothers' graves, he headed towards the Festival of Merit, where the Noble was last seen on his path to revenge.