The great Modron March is about to begin its trek across Gelinor! Every 289 years, like clockwork, the Modrons leave their home plane of Mechanus to travel across the planes in a (mostly) peaceful march for some unknown purpose. Like clockwork, these mechanical creatures always begin their trek across the material plane right outside of the great dwarven city of Giant's Rest, causing the inhabitants to hold a Modron Festival in their honor. This march is always the same, every year, as if the gears of the universe always tick in the same fashion.... unless something were to happen to those gears....
If you have seen my other adventure that I DM, Gelinor is my homebrew continent, where almost all of my adventures take place. I bring to you a new homebrew adventure that I have created, and am ready to see it in action! I need between 4 and 6 adventurers to join me on this quest, and we shall see what happens along the way...
This adventure will be more difficult than most beginning quests, so please build your characters at 6th level. Please make sure to list their name, race, class, and a compelling backstory for them! I will give each character a magic item of my choice that fits the character once I choose the players involved, so look forward to that treat! Creative characters will be chosen first, so please put some hard work and effort into your creation and preparation, as I always look to reward good role-playing and character interactions!
(Unfortunately, I do not have any content to share, so unless someone can provide that, we will unfortunately have to make do. However I do generally allow UA, so that always adds some fun!)
Just as a heads up, I will most likely be selecting people either tonight (5/15) or tomorrow morning (5/16)
Hello, Todd. I'd like to apply for inclusion. This is the character I'd like to submit for review:
Name: Blaze Thornwen Race: Fire Genasi Class: Sorcerer
Background (for the DM's review):
Karlo’s parents, being non-magical Humans living in a magi-cracy, were nobodies. The Blakes ran a bakery. Despite their lowly station, they were happy. When Mrs. Blake became pregnant after many years of seeming infertility, the couple was overjoyed.
When Karlo, Jr., was born, their lives changed forever. After word spread about the birth of a child with burning, red skin and hair, it was not long before the Blakes’ station was elevated greatly. It happened so quickly and forcefully that before Karlo was two months old, Mr. and Mrs. Blake were living completely different lives. They had a new home, new friends, were being financially supported (and so did not need to work), and their child’s upbringing had been mapped out for them.
For years, the Blakes put up with this undesired opulence and the many hands spending more time with their child than they; their desire was to provide the best upbringing for their child, and this seemed like the best. However, the noble life did not suit the simple Blakes, and they saw how it was having a negative effect on how Karlo was turning out. By the time Karlo was seven, his parents were completely sick of the snobbish, backstabbing nobility.
Unfortunately, those that had been supporting the family for the past seven years were not ready to let go of Karlo. The boy had indeed shown a natural inclination toward the arcane. He was destined to be great and was being treated as such. When the Blakes decided to return to their previous lives, Karlo was easily removed from his birth parents and given to one of the noble magic families, the Thornwens. The Thornwens renamed Karlo, Blaze.
Blaze was already so influenced by the nobility with which he spent most of his time, that, while confusing, he fairly quickly accepted his removal from his birth parents. He continued to train and study both the ways of the arcane and the ways of the nobility. The Thornwens are a powerful magic family, and their adoption of Blaze added to their status.
Blaze grew up to see the world through the same viewpoint as the Thornwens’: Because of his supposed magical heritage, he is more important than most — he’s a snob. He grew up having his needs met by others and being taken care of him. To his face, even the nobility addressed him with deference.
There is a small part of him that was instilled long ago by his down-to-earth parents which contradicts the snobbish aspects of his personality. Sometimes that more-decent part of him speaks. And sometimes he even listens.
Growing up in the Thornwen household has not been a very pleasant experience. Lord and Lady Thornwen view Blaze as a project to be worked on, molded, and pushed toward perfection. They provided the best they could for Blaze — lifestyle, teachers, etc. — but reserved their love for their two biological sons, Vincent and Trajin. Despite this, the older boys loathed Blaze. They have never accepted their adopted brother as part of their family. They have tormented him for as long as Blaze can remember. He is careful to never let them know how much this hurts him, and he has never told the Thornwens.
Some time ago, Blaze decided to leave home to get away from Vincent and Trajin. As the boys have matured into men, their treatment of Blaze has become more dangerous and damaging. He told his adopted parents he wanted to continue learning how to wield the arcane by facing challenges he would only face by adventuring. At first the Thornwens were reluctant to release Blaze from under their thumb, but his insistence won his independence. He is required to report to them on a regular basis and to return home at least once a year.
Adventuring has helped Blaze learn to be a little more cooperative with those he deems beneath him — everyone else. He is slowly learning to hold his tongue and how to listen — mostly out of utility, not out of inner desire.
The Blakes are still alive and are still baking. They are happy together, but are sad for the son they didn’t get to raise. Blaze has only seen them from a distance; he is afraid to approach them.
Physical description:
Blaze is just under six feet tall with a slender, athletic build. His skin is a copper color. He has patches of copper dragon scales on his forehead, neck, chest, back, forearms, thighs, and the tops of his feet. His hair is long, straight, and fiery red. He has gold eyes. He has some brown “tribal” tattoos on his arms and a red mark which extends from his bottom lip underneath his chin.
Mannerisms:
When uncomfortable, Blaze runs his fingers through his hair. When feeling like he has an advantage, he tucks his hair behind his ears. When thinking hard, he tends to crack his knuckles.
World view:
Having grown up part of the nobility, he sees his country has superior. He also sees nobility as superior. He sees nothing wrong with the class system and enjoys its benefits. He values life, but in order of importance from the top down. If five commoners needed to die to save one noble, that would make sense to him. He does value highly the lives of children, however, no matter what class.
Pain points:
His family is a source of heartache for him. He appreciates the Thornwens and the life they have provided for him (and are still providing). They have instilled in him the knowledge that he was saved from a destitute life. He respects them, and he wishes to earn their love. He has a vague memory of what it was like to have parents that loved him and he misses that. His brothers, on the other hand, are an even greater source of confusion and confliction. He avoids them at all costs. They cause him great pain and are the source of his reduced self-esteem. (Because of how he has been treated, those feelings are sometimes transferred onto others who may appear disapproving, show him animosity, or may just be an easy target.)
He also harbors feelings of curiosity and guilt where his birth parents are concerned, but he works hard to suppress those.
Desires:
While Blaze used the excuse of wanting to adventure to grow his abilities in order to leave the Thornwen estate, he does want to grow stronger with the hopes of earning love from the Lord and Lady and respect from his adopted brothers and the other nobility in which he grew up.
He has a secret desire to be reunited with his birth parents.
He has a lingering desire to know how he came to be. What is his heritage? Why is he a Fire Genasi? Why does he have scales?
He wishes to be liked.
Fears and phobias:
Heights (avoids if possible), small rodents (moves away), disease (moves away)
I'm still pretty new to D&D. I've been playing in PbP campaigns since the beginning of the year. But I'm having a blast and would like to partake in more. I generally post several times a day. Feel free to check out my post history to see if my style would be a good fit. If we're starting out at level 6, this would be the highest character I've ever played.
Backstory: Durrol was born and raised within the walls of Giant's Rest. He has led a mostly easy life, being quite strong, even by dwarf standards. He signed up at the earliest age to work for the town guard, and has since served his terms of service, helping protect the town from whatever manner of threat it may be, from within or without. Though he is slightly clumsy and not great at the smaller things, he definitely tries his best. He is a little brash, but a trusty stalwart companion to those he works with.
I can write a more in depth backstory for you if you'd like. Just thought a short and sweet synopsis would be okay for now.
My schedule is pretty open and I can post pretty much most days (but am in Sydney (GMT+10) timezone wise). I started RP back in the Play-by-Email days about 17 years ago and started tabletop with D&D 3.5 about five years later. Currently I play in Pathfinder and 5E groups on roll20, and run an in-person 5E Eberron campaign. I can share content if needed (everything unlocked).
Name: Tempest Faire (introduces himself as 'Tem', tends to get stuck with 'Pest') Race: Air Genasi Class: Rogue (Arcane Trickster)
Backstory:
Tempest will tell you many things about his past -- that he's the lost prince to a kingdom one day, that he grew up starving on the streets the next. He might tell you about the dragon he fought singlehandedly - or maybe it was a griffin, a naga, a giant kraken! How he was forced into being a thief to survive, or forced into it by an evil vizier who captured him and made him retrieve a magical lamp from a cave of wonders! He'll embroider the tale so richly, rakishly confident in it, that he'll almost have you believing it - even though it's the fifth such story he's told you this week.
But the truth of the matter is the one thing he won't ever tell you. Not out of shame, not because there's dark horrendous skeletons in his closet, but because, well - it's boring. And that is the one thing Tem never wishes to be (yet always fears that he is). Because the truth of the matter is this: he grew up in a city (average sized) with two parents in a middle-class neighbourhood. His mother was a baker and his father cobbled shoes. He attended school, played and enjoyed a childhood that was completely and utterly mundane, much to his disgust. No dragons terrorised the city. No vigilantes murdered his parents. The closest he came to a unicorn was the puppets in the midsummer fair. It was thoroughly, depressingly dull.
It was this itch for excitement, this insatiable curiosity coupled with a complete lack of caution about exercising it that led him down his current path. Being able to float up to someone's upper-story window and peer in to find out what they were up to led to a discovery that would set the course of the rest of his life: few people bothered to lock windows that had no normal means of ingress. Over time, rumour spread -- with a dose of help from his own storytelling - of a legendary thief in the city; a master bowman, unbeatable thief, friend to the poor, a ghost who walked through walls.
Unfortunately, the same thing plagued this as plagued many of Tempest's plans - a complete and utter lack of foresight. Making himself out to be a master thief was certainly fun, definitely exciting, and all around did absolutely fantastic things for his ego, but... it also drew a lot of attention. And a large portion of that attention came not from those ladies and gentlemen that Tem tried to impress but rather from the city guard, who were all rather spoil-sporty about the whole thing. Really, those guys just couldn't take a joke. But hey, there were plenty fishes in the sea, plenty of cities where people left their windows ajar for a bit of a breeze, plenty of taverns to regale with stories of his amazing derring-do!
Z'ress was born into slavery in the underdark, her mother being a human slave while her was male drow who cruelly gave her his family name as a sick joke. Due to her half human heritage she was treated much worse growing up, being seen as an abomination by pureblooded drow and a way to take out frustration by the drow hating slaves. This made her learn to stay out of sight as much as possible, helping her to develop her stealth. Her upbringing made her all but mute, never speaking unless what is being said had some importance.
While she is still not sure what happened on the day, a slave rebellion occurred that gave the young half drow a chance to escape. Along with her mother and several others they managed to make it out of the drow controlled caverns and into the greater u nderdark. For weeks the former slaves traveled to the point that less then five of the nearly two dozen people remained. Some had died while others had thought it a brilliant idea to go off on their own.
Eventually a bit of good luck or what some considered divine intervention occurred. While out on an expedition a group of deep gnomes came across the few remaining escappee. Fortunately enough for the party, Z'ress knew enough undercommon and the gnomes knew enough common to communicate enough to get a place to stay for a small amount of time before they were led to the surface. As with any that had spent their entire life in the caverns of the Underdark, Z'ress was completely overwhelmed by the sun and open sky, taking years to truly find the sight normal. With nothing but the ragged clothes on their backs, the young half elf and her mother tried to settle into life on the surface.Unfortunately due to just her appearance this did not always turn out well for Z'ress.
The two did manage to find a home but for fear of being shunned or even at times attacked, Z'ress kept to herself as normal. She made sure to always help her mother but could tell as time passed that her mother was miserable with her life even if she was no longer toiling in the Underdark. The knowledge of this and her own depression led the half elf into a destroyed spiral of lashing out at those that wornged her, this only worsening when she found an even greater fuel for her anger in alcohol.
In one of her drunken stupors she got into fight and ended up missing her target due to her lack of sense. Where she had expected to find her fist hitting into some unprepared farmer, she instead found her hand easily deflected. What followed next was a blinding flurry of well placed blows that had her on the floor before she could blink. The person she had hit was in actuality a monk from the nearby monastery. Normally such behavior would have gotten the young half elf in serious trouble as it had before but thanks to pleading from her mother and mercy from the monk that had laid her out a deal was struck. Z'ress was sent off to the monastery to be forcibly made to sober up, this leading her to being left alone except for someone that brought her meals.
The next several weeks were agony for her as she had to suffer through detoxifying and the withdraw symptoms of alcohol. Near the later stages of her experiences with being made to sober up one of the monks decided she needed something constructive to do to get her mind off of her current situation. At first she ignored the monk but ended up trying to fight them when they teased her by stumbling around her blows like a drunkard only to then easily pummel her in the same fashion. While this at first annoyed her to no end, Z'ress slowly began to study the moments of her opponen to the point that she managed to land a hit on their shoulder.
It took time but the two grudgingly became friends, the monk finely telling her his name was brother Darrius. Despite her lack of conversational skills the two did manage to talk, Darrius explaining to her why he foopund life at the monastery worth while, slowly convincing Z'ress to try living there outside of her forced rehabilitation. This ended up being good for her and after a year she fully joined the monastery and began her martial training. As if there was a sense of irony in the world the monastery focused on the Drunken master style of combat.
While this at first confused the half drow she quickly learned thar despite the name she would never see any type of alcohol enter the monastery. It took a month's for her to get the basics down but once she did her training took off quickly, her elven blood giving her the flexibility and grace to perform the unorthodox moves at. After nearly half of training, Z'ress set out from the monastery in a quest to make her peace with the world and self, the grandmaster of the order telling her to return when she had done so. With a fond farewell to her home of many years, she left and began her journey.
If you'd rather not have two Genasi, I also have this Human character ready to play:
Name: Reggie Tracewind Race: Human Class: Fighter / Warlock
Reggie Tracewind was the son of an unassuming couple. He had an older sister and a younger brother; the three were very close in age and were each other's childhood best friends. They lived an ordinary life on the family farm about a day's journey from the region's commercial center. Reggie's parents loved each other. The family worked and played together.
What the other Tracewinds didn't know was that when Reggie was 13 years old, he began to hear a voice in his head — a voice not his own. He first heard it in his dreams. When he would wake, he would feel confused and wary, but he could never remember exactly what the voice said. Over the next seven or eight years, the voice started coming to him more and more while he was awake. It spoke in a language Reggie didn't understand at first, but he could understand its intent. It criticized the world around Reggie and sowed seeds of discontent. It encouraged him to do things he knew he shouldn't. As the years went by, Reggie grew distant from the rest of his family. He sought seclusion. He snapped at people for no reason. His family was confused, and his parents even tried punishing him, but that only made it worse. Reggie started understanding the language and trying to communicate with the voice, telling it to leave him alone, but that only encouraged the voice. It told Reggie that it was his friend and was trying to help him. It told Reggie that he could be so much more than a simple farmer. It promised Reggie great power if Reggie would just give himself over to the voice. Reggie never told his family about the voice.
As the years passed, the voice started encouraging Reggie to kill himself so that it could move on to a better host. Reggie told it to leave on its own, but it said it cannot as long as Reggie is still alive. Reggie was tempted on occasion, but didn't want to subject anyone else to the torture, so he resolved to struggle through it himself. Reggie discovered two things which kept the voice at bay, quieting it some and sometimes silencing it: staying very busy and alcohol.
When Reggie was 21, he moved out of the family home and to the commercial center. He was truly scared of what he was becoming, and he didn't want to torture his family anymore. He moved into a room and took odd jobs around the large city. There was another young man who would often take the same jobs as Reggie: Garamond Doost. The two eventually became friends. While Reggie never told Garamond about the voice, Garamond soon realized Reggie was very tortured. He pitied Reggie and constantly tried to lift Reggie's spirits. Garamond's older brother was in the military and would "train" Reggie and Garamond when he had the time. Reggie found that Garamond's constant encouragement and the busyness with which they filled their lives was quieting the voice. After a few years, Reggie started feeling happy on occasion again. Reggie reduced his alcohol consumption. He was making good money and was learning how to wield dual swords, a skill Garamond's brother encouraged since Reggie is ambidextrous.
Unfortunately, Reggie's period of respite was cut short by a horrific event. Because he had been feeling so much better, Reggie decided to spend some time back on the family farm on a kind of holiday. He invited Garamond to join him to finally spend some extended time with the Tracewinds who had only met Garamond in passing over the years. Things went very well for two days. The third morning, Reggie awoke to horror. His four family members and Garamond had been killed in the night ... seemingly by Reggie. Their blood was on his swords and on him. He did not remember anything, but the voice was loud and clear again the next day, congratulating him and encouraging him.
Reggie felt the greatest desire at that time to end his own life. But as he prepared to fall on his sword, the voice was laughing and cheering in his head, and he again resolved to not release the voice to torture another.
Reggie left the region, escaping into busyness and alcohol in another land. He attempted to live life with all of his horrific past following him ... and the voice, which was a constant reminder and adversary. He again began drinking heavily. But as the years went by, even his busyness and alcohol consumption could not drown out the voice. It continued to weasel its way into his mind. It began to consume his dreams even more ravenously.
One particularly bad night, he awoke and knew something in himself had broken. The voice no longer came from his head; it came from his heart. For about two weeks, the voice was quieter — its words were a constant low hum, not understandable, but much more alarming. Then, during a particularly harrowing confrontation with a pack of Bugbear, the voice rose up within Reggie like he had never felt before. He felt it fill his being with a power he had never experienced before. It was ... glorious. With a whisper of encouragement from the voice, he smote one of the Bugbears with a blast of eldrich energy.
After the battle, Reggie was very conflicted. The voice again was quieter — a constant jumble of a presence under the surface of Reggie's confusing thoughts. And now he has this to contend with!
As a member of the royal court as an entertainer Lynsway has been in the presence of greatness and great stories for years. Usually called upon to bring levity to the court, Lynsway has dreamed of being the hero in one of his productions and songs. Recently called to entertain at the Dwarven city of Giant's rest he can't pass by this huge event without taking his shot.
Lynsway has a link to ISRAFEL, the Angel of Song. Though this host plays her songs like Armageddon to the end of all things, Lynsway has rejected the destruction of mankind. He has harnessed his power to bring light and love to his new world. At his true nature, he is compassionate and hopeful about the future of man except that the Modron March has put this at risk. Indirectly directed by Israfel to assist in the festival but also to look out for the threat of Evil. His skills as a bard are just an entrance into this new world but to extend his influence he must be willing to transform.
Lynsway possesses all the wonderful attributes of his kind with raven black lustrous hair, flawless bronze skin, and piercing light blue eyes. Despite this natural beauty, he generally covers his looks with comical clown like paint, tying back his hair in a braid, and covering his head with a thick gold embroidered hood. He stands just 6 feet tall and weighs about 210 lbs. Though he is not young, the 50 years on earth is but a third of his expected life. At times he has traveled as an entertainer. I have thrived in front of an audience. Despite my patrons dark intentions for mankind, I have brought laughter and joy usually raising mankinds spirit. The use of my horn and drum have been tools to entertain but cornered and called to attack can also bring terror to my enemies.
Jodon’s parents expected him to go into the family business of separating those who have too much from that burden. He had some small measure of skill, but, on his first field test, some eneregy within him repaired the purses as soon as they were cut. His family was at first puzzled and then enraged at this mending, but Jodon took this as a sign that he was meant, not to take, but to give.
Not raised in any religious tradition, Jodon could not put a name to this calling, but time and time again he found himself able to aid others without precisely knowing how, or why. He stopped questioning this gift, content to bestow it upon as many beings as possible, until one day on the road he was beset by brigands not unlike his own family. In his panic, he struck them blind and fled, horrified at what he had done.
He still practices his art on his travels, and but now seeks to put a name to whatever power has given him these gifts, both positive and negative.
Greeting, good sir! I am Korgin Highhill, Lightfoot Halfling Bard from the College of Lore. I've spent much of my life serving in the Kings Court [OOC: The specific court would be up to the DM... something out of town], just as my father and his father before me. My mother was a wealthy courtesan who my father... shall we say charmed the pants off of? What can I say, my lot have always had a way with the fairer sex. *laughs heartily*
In my time as a courtier and bard for the king, I have seen my fair share of action, both on the battlefield in amidst diplomatic negotiations, using my magical playing to bend the ears of our allies and enemies alike to help help my liege form allegiances and avoid war.
My Lord has allowed me a sabbatical for my studies, which is what brings me to Giants Rest. I have heard the tales and songs of the Modron March, and look forward to seeing it with my own eyes... perhaps to compose new songs and stories to pass on to my own children... should I ever find a lass worthy to settle down and carry on the great Highhill name!
Rickett runs the oiled rag down the metal shield covering his companions rear hind quarters. Just finishing his routine checkup, the creature’s head swivels around to regard it’s friend and personal mechanic. “Welp pal, you’re good to go for another few ten day. You really need to try to avoid those rust vines. Gone unchecked, they could really do some damage to your gonar pistons “ The creature cocks it’s head “I know, I know, I still need to cast a new rotator coil for that shoulder. Just hang in there, we’ll get it installed next time.” Rickett stands and walks over to his work bench and begins putting the tools away. The creature turns back to regard the workshop that has become its home. He’s spent many years here in this place with his friend Rickett, but it misses it’s own. Laying down with a mechanical whurrrr that sounded much like a sigh, it turns to once again watch it’s friend. Rickett looks above his work desk at a large device of gears and sockets that spin slowly on their own. Grabbing a stool to stand on, the gnome steps up and taps on the largest sprocket with a small wrench. “Hmmm just a few weeks now. Before the portal opens again.” Rickett’s viice takes on a strained tone. “You’ll be able to go.. home then. If you want.” The gnome stammers a bit “And of course you would. Why would you want to stay here?” Rickett goes silent and finishes cleaning. “Alright bud. All finished. Let’s get to work.” The creature hops up and follows his friend out the door
Rickett was young gnome the last time the Modrons marched. Finding one, wounded and left behind on the previous march, he helped it and nursed it back to health. The two have been partners and friends ever since.
Backstory: Once again we need to short out details like the place of origin but it’s easy to change. :)
The quiet and calm young elf was a mistery even for Fren’hyard. The rangers had found him almost ten years ago, near the bodys of his parents, killed by a party of raiding orcs of the Gwash tribe that were attacking the outskirts of Lyrengorn in the past few months. How he had survived was also a mistery, for the child barely spoke of it and no one was sure who killed the orcs that were found in the scene. Everyone assumed that it was the parents before dying, but Fren was starting to suspect that not all of the orcs were killed by the unfortunate couple.
The childhood of Lyn’daran wasn’t easy, for even in their community the child didn’t have anyone who care of him, so he was forced to steal sometimes to survive, and the few pockets of unsavory individuals in the city started to get a hold of him. At least it was the first impression when the guards caught him trying to steal some supplies from the wyvern rider’s barracks. But soon he lead the authorities towards the brain of the operation and tht led to more detentions. Now his mentor was sure that he let the guards capture him on porpuose, led them to the head to assure him a place among the scouts of Lyrengorn and, most of it, that he had learned of them what he needed.
In the following years, Lyn had excell at many disciplines, specially those who made him a more efficient hunter and killer. He rarely joined his companions in celebrations, and even when he did, he was alone, not really taking part of the fun and jokes. His sarcastic and black sense of humor combined with his reserved nature made him a solitary. Many thought that he didn’t care about his companions. In this they were also wrong.
Just a week ago a patrol of students were attacked and captured by a band of wandering goblinoids, led by an ogre. Many scouts and warriors were dispatched looking for them, even some wings of wyvern riders joined the search. Nobody paid attention to the lone student that left the barracks that night aremd with a longbow and a cold determination. For four days he followed a faint track that kept heading north into the Neverfields. He found the orcs and his ogre leader hiding in a ice cavern getting ready to kill the rest of their captives. He planted his arrows in the snow and called for the orcs. As they were emergin from the cave his arrows were killing them. Finally the ogre came out of the cave, and he led the mounstrosity to a crack in the ice he had discovered. Lured the ogre to its edge and made him fall on it. Firing his last two arros to the knee and talon of the ogre he left it at the bottom of the crack, were a pack of dire wolves killed and devoured the ogre. He witnessed it until the end. Two days later the scouts found him almost freezed, for he had lend his cape to one of the survivors, guiding them back to safety. “ They are my brothers, my clan” he replied as only explanation for his acts.
Now, with his face tattoed as a full member of the scouts, Lym’daran were standing in front of his former master and mentor Fren’hyard, but for all his quiet demeneaor and for his cold blood killing their enemies, he was confident that the young elf will die before let any threat to the Elvenspeak come closer to it. He lend his weapons to Lyn who accepted them with a solemn nod. He knew how important this was to him. He was finally accepted as one of them. He had, again, a familiy.
Wanted to add that I can post several times at day if needed. And have some active PbP games running right now so you can check them if you feel it’s right. :)
Dorenas Nil was born to a human female and knew little of his father except that he abandoned them before his birth and refused to acknowledge him as his son after it. Because of this, Dorenas felt unwanted and unloved as a child despite his mother's best efforts to play both roles. He grew up troubled and those feelings of hurt soon took him to the dark corners of the city where he was born, where he would befriend the younger street thugs and urchins. Quickly learning their trade, he ran the streets with them as they formed a sort of den of thieves for themselves, where all the goods they collected would return back to their base and they would pay the thieves' guild in the city a portion of their pickings. Dorenas continued down this path until his early teens when by chance he stumbled upon a human chasing down an elf smuggler in front of a tavern, tackle him to the floor, and gave him several good punches in the face before binding his hands and throwing him to the guards that were close behind. And to Dorenas's shock and amazement, the guards instead of attacking the man threw him a bag heavy with coins and walked away with the elf.
The young Dorenas approached the man and found out his name was Hellert Thorn, a bounty hunter. He instantly became interested in the profession and after buying Hellert a drink he asked if he could be under his wing. The man was not forthcoming and said he didn't take apprenticeships, but Dorenas was relentless until he finally convinced Hellert to take him on. They left the city the following day, and it was on their journey that the young Dorenas first learned how to become a bounty hunter; their first few quarries were troublesome men who had evaded paying a guild or angered some lord, but as time went on, their bounties fluctuated from the truly vile and crazed criminals to innocent men who didn't deserve to have such bounties on their heads. But Dorenas was enthralled by the lifestyle all the same. In his mid twenties, sometime in midsummer, they were chasing down a particularly nasty quarry, a man who had committed several murders in three different cities and managed to corner him in a rundown shed before he could commit his next kill. A battle ensued, their target going feral almost instantly and trying to escape, and in his attempt managed to kill Hellert with a lucky blow to the head with an axe. Enraged and in immense pain of the death of his father figure, Dorenas slew the murderer and presented him to the guards, collected his bounty, and mourned the loss of his friend and mentor for a week.
He set off after that into the wilds for a time to live in seclusion, away from the fowl, evil nature of the races and instead among nature where things were as they were meant to be. Not corrupted and twisted into vileness. His time there was just under a year, but he became proficient with the bow and in hunting beasts. He returned once more to civilization and picked up the life he knew well once more.
The subsequent years were more or less the same, he would go hunting for his quarry, would give chase, and eventually collect them either dead or alive, depending on how much they had vexed him. He also learned during this time to become more selfish, only looking out for his own interests and everyone else be damned; and every quarry he got that was an elf, he killed without question. It didn't matter to him if they were innocent or not. If an elf had a bounty on their heads, it was an excuse for him to kill, often giving them quick and easy deaths. But the particularly nasty ones he let suffer and succumb to their own pain. His hatred of the elves only grew and even the innocents among them, and the few that he was forced to deal with, he treated with severe prejudice and enmity.
Eventually however, he gave up the life of a bounty hunter, as he decided that adventuring was going to offer him a chance to eventually meet his father, where he would probably kill the hatred he harboured for him.
Since the recruitment hasn't closed yet i guess i'll take a shot at this
Name: Umben, 12th Zerth
Race: Gith (Githzerai)
Class: Cleric (Order - UA)
Umben was born on a monastery island in the ever-chaotic plane of limbo. The githzerai has their own way of living. In this extremely unpredictable plane of existance they find themselves in need of mental training and order.
He comes from a floating fortress island that is wholly dedicated to the githzerai that ascended to godhood, Zerthimon. Every citizen of the island has to become either a cleric of order, simply called a Zerth, or they sign up as monks or farmers. Since the plane of Limbo has no sustenance for crops or livestock they have small pocketplanes that work as farms.
Umbens parents gave him to the Zerth as soon as he was born, and he has served the cloister ever since. Since he was given to the cloister without his parents even giving him a name he was given the name Umben, which is gith for "Donation", of all things. Umben does not seem to mind his rather unusual name or the fact that he does not know his parents. He loves Zerthimon and he adores order, this to the extent that he tries his best to deviate from most expressions of emotion. Emotions, after all, only lead to unbalance. At least that is what Umben thinks.
Umben is the 12th out of 12 githzerai clerics of order that has been sent out to the material plane of Gellinor to observe this rare occurance. Modrons are beings of order after all, and the Zerth finds the great modron march fascinating. "Why does the modron walk across Gellinor? Why every 289 years?" These are questions Umben wants answered, and thats why he asked his superiors to be sent to Gellinor to observe this strange occurrence.
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Blixanix Glitterpain, Goblin Bard - In campaign: Ravnica, City of Guilds
The Soggiest DM - In campaign: Boats, Rocks & Ruffians Eira Whitefeather, Human Sorcerer/Warlock - In campaign: Death Inspectors Expanded
Roland "THUNDER HIPPO" Wolfscribe, Human Bloodhunter - In campaign: Core City: A Play-by-post Adventure
I know this is way past your due date, but the thread hasn't been closed, so...
Name: Crosos Corpra
Race: High Elf
Class: 3 Monk/3 Rogue
Backstory: See PM's. Too much detail here takes away from the RP possibilities later on.
I've played PBP before, but not in these forums, and not 5e. I've watched plenty of Critical Role, and that is the extent of my experience with 5e. I have played several other systems, including 3.5e. I've been doing D&D for years.
I'm choosing PBP because I have a newborn, and playing on something like Roll20 or Fantasy Grounds is not possible. I can check online frequently in short intervals, but not in one big chunk. So PBP.
I can post frequently... several times a day.
Here's one condition from me though: I've played before in "theater of the mind" and I found that it takes away from the tactical aspects that makes many skills and abilities useful and valuable. I do hope there is some form of battle mat to move around on.
The great Modron March is about to begin its trek across Gelinor! Every 289 years, like clockwork, the Modrons leave their home plane of Mechanus to travel across the planes in a (mostly) peaceful march for some unknown purpose. Like clockwork, these mechanical creatures always begin their trek across the material plane right outside of the great dwarven city of Giant's Rest, causing the inhabitants to hold a Modron Festival in their honor. This march is always the same, every year, as if the gears of the universe always tick in the same fashion.... unless something were to happen to those gears....
If you have seen my other adventure that I DM, Gelinor is my homebrew continent, where almost all of my adventures take place. I bring to you a new homebrew adventure that I have created, and am ready to see it in action! I need between 4 and 6 adventurers to join me on this quest, and we shall see what happens along the way...
This adventure will be more difficult than most beginning quests, so please build your characters at 6th level. Please make sure to list their name, race, class, and a compelling backstory for them! I will give each character a magic item of my choice that fits the character once I choose the players involved, so look forward to that treat! Creative characters will be chosen first, so please put some hard work and effort into your creation and preparation, as I always look to reward good role-playing and character interactions!
(Unfortunately, I do not have any content to share, so unless someone can provide that, we will unfortunately have to make do. However I do generally allow UA, so that always adds some fun!)
Just as a heads up, I will most likely be selecting people either tonight (5/15) or tomorrow morning (5/16)
Hello, Todd. I'd like to apply for inclusion. This is the character I'd like to submit for review:
Name: Blaze Thornwen
Race: Fire Genasi
Class: Sorcerer
Background (for the DM's review):
Karlo’s parents, being non-magical Humans living in a magi-cracy, were nobodies. The Blakes ran a bakery. Despite their lowly station, they were happy. When Mrs. Blake became pregnant after many years of seeming infertility, the couple was overjoyed.
When Karlo, Jr., was born, their lives changed forever. After word spread about the birth of a child with burning, red skin and hair, it was not long before the Blakes’ station was elevated greatly. It happened so quickly and forcefully that before Karlo was two months old, Mr. and Mrs. Blake were living completely different lives. They had a new home, new friends, were being financially supported (and so did not need to work), and their child’s upbringing had been mapped out for them.
For years, the Blakes put up with this undesired opulence and the many hands spending more time with their child than they; their desire was to provide the best upbringing for their child, and this seemed like the best. However, the noble life did not suit the simple Blakes, and they saw how it was having a negative effect on how Karlo was turning out. By the time Karlo was seven, his parents were completely sick of the snobbish, backstabbing nobility.
Unfortunately, those that had been supporting the family for the past seven years were not ready to let go of Karlo. The boy had indeed shown a natural inclination toward the arcane. He was destined to be great and was being treated as such. When the Blakes decided to return to their previous lives, Karlo was easily removed from his birth parents and given to one of the noble magic families, the Thornwens. The Thornwens renamed Karlo, Blaze.
Blaze was already so influenced by the nobility with which he spent most of his time, that, while confusing, he fairly quickly accepted his removal from his birth parents. He continued to train and study both the ways of the arcane and the ways of the nobility. The Thornwens are a powerful magic family, and their adoption of Blaze added to their status.
Blaze grew up to see the world through the same viewpoint as the Thornwens’: Because of his supposed magical heritage, he is more important than most — he’s a snob. He grew up having his needs met by others and being taken care of him. To his face, even the nobility addressed him with deference.
There is a small part of him that was instilled long ago by his down-to-earth parents which contradicts the snobbish aspects of his personality. Sometimes that more-decent part of him speaks. And sometimes he even listens.
Growing up in the Thornwen household has not been a very pleasant experience. Lord and Lady Thornwen view Blaze as a project to be worked on, molded, and pushed toward perfection. They provided the best they could for Blaze — lifestyle, teachers, etc. — but reserved their love for their two biological sons, Vincent and Trajin. Despite this, the older boys loathed Blaze. They have never accepted their adopted brother as part of their family. They have tormented him for as long as Blaze can remember. He is careful to never let them know how much this hurts him, and he has never told the Thornwens.
Some time ago, Blaze decided to leave home to get away from Vincent and Trajin. As the boys have matured into men, their treatment of Blaze has become more dangerous and damaging. He told his adopted parents he wanted to continue learning how to wield the arcane by facing challenges he would only face by adventuring. At first the Thornwens were reluctant to release Blaze from under their thumb, but his insistence won his independence. He is required to report to them on a regular basis and to return home at least once a year.
Adventuring has helped Blaze learn to be a little more cooperative with those he deems beneath him — everyone else. He is slowly learning to hold his tongue and how to listen — mostly out of utility, not out of inner desire.
The Blakes are still alive and are still baking. They are happy together, but are sad for the son they didn’t get to raise. Blaze has only seen them from a distance; he is afraid to approach them.
Physical description:
Blaze is just under six feet tall with a slender, athletic build. His skin is a copper color. He has patches of copper dragon scales on his forehead, neck, chest, back, forearms, thighs, and the tops of his feet. His hair is long, straight, and fiery red. He has gold eyes. He has some brown “tribal” tattoos on his arms and a red mark which extends from his bottom lip underneath his chin.
Mannerisms:
When uncomfortable, Blaze runs his fingers through his hair. When feeling like he has an advantage, he tucks his hair behind his ears. When thinking hard, he tends to crack his knuckles.
World view:
Having grown up part of the nobility, he sees his country has superior. He also sees nobility as superior. He sees nothing wrong with the class system and enjoys its benefits. He values life, but in order of importance from the top down. If five commoners needed to die to save one noble, that would make sense to him. He does value highly the lives of children, however, no matter what class.
Pain points:
His family is a source of heartache for him. He appreciates the Thornwens and the life they have provided for him (and are still providing). They have instilled in him the knowledge that he was saved from a destitute life. He respects them, and he wishes to earn their love. He has a vague memory of what it was like to have parents that loved him and he misses that. His brothers, on the other hand, are an even greater source of confusion and confliction. He avoids them at all costs. They cause him great pain and are the source of his reduced self-esteem. (Because of how he has been treated, those feelings are sometimes transferred onto others who may appear disapproving, show him animosity, or may just be an easy target.)
He also harbors feelings of curiosity and guilt where his birth parents are concerned, but he works hard to suppress those.
Desires:
While Blaze used the excuse of wanting to adventure to grow his abilities in order to leave the Thornwen estate, he does want to grow stronger with the hopes of earning love from the Lord and Lady and respect from his adopted brothers and the other nobility in which he grew up.
He has a secret desire to be reunited with his birth parents.
He has a lingering desire to know how he came to be. What is his heritage? Why is he a Fire Genasi? Why does he have scales?
He wishes to be liked.
Fears and phobias:
Heights (avoids if possible), small rodents (moves away), disease (moves away)
I'm still pretty new to D&D. I've been playing in PbP campaigns since the beginning of the year. But I'm having a blast and would like to partake in more. I generally post several times a day. Feel free to check out my post history to see if my style would be a good fit. If we're starting out at level 6, this would be the highest character I've ever played.
I can post most days, weekends are varying on whether I'm home and/or have decent internet at the time.
Name: Durrol Stonehewer
Race: Mountain Dwarf
Class: Fighter (Champion) 6
Background: Soldier
Backstory: Durrol was born and raised within the walls of Giant's Rest. He has led a mostly easy life, being quite strong, even by dwarf standards. He signed up at the earliest age to work for the town guard, and has since served his terms of service, helping protect the town from whatever manner of threat it may be, from within or without. Though he is slightly clumsy and not great at the smaller things, he definitely tries his best. He is a little brash, but a trusty stalwart companion to those he works with.
I can write a more in depth backstory for you if you'd like. Just thought a short and sweet synopsis would be okay for now.
Current Player In: The Guild as Elsara Deepmoon
Heyla!
My schedule is pretty open and I can post pretty much most days (but am in Sydney (GMT+10) timezone wise). I started RP back in the Play-by-Email days about 17 years ago and started tabletop with D&D 3.5 about five years later. Currently I play in Pathfinder and 5E groups on roll20, and run an in-person 5E Eberron campaign. I can share content if needed (everything unlocked).
Name: Tempest Faire (introduces himself as 'Tem', tends to get stuck with 'Pest')
Race: Air Genasi
Class: Rogue (Arcane Trickster)
Backstory:
Tempest will tell you many things about his past -- that he's the lost prince to a kingdom one day, that he grew up starving on the streets the next. He might tell you about the dragon he fought singlehandedly - or maybe it was a griffin, a naga, a giant kraken! How he was forced into being a thief to survive, or forced into it by an evil vizier who captured him and made him retrieve a magical lamp from a cave of wonders! He'll embroider the tale so richly, rakishly confident in it, that he'll almost have you believing it - even though it's the fifth such story he's told you this week.
But the truth of the matter is the one thing he won't ever tell you. Not out of shame, not because there's dark horrendous skeletons in his closet, but because, well - it's boring. And that is the one thing Tem never wishes to be (yet always fears that he is). Because the truth of the matter is this: he grew up in a city (average sized) with two parents in a middle-class neighbourhood. His mother was a baker and his father cobbled shoes. He attended school, played and enjoyed a childhood that was completely and utterly mundane, much to his disgust. No dragons terrorised the city. No vigilantes murdered his parents. The closest he came to a unicorn was the puppets in the midsummer fair. It was thoroughly, depressingly dull.
It was this itch for excitement, this insatiable curiosity coupled with a complete lack of caution about exercising it that led him down his current path. Being able to float up to someone's upper-story window and peer in to find out what they were up to led to a discovery that would set the course of the rest of his life: few people bothered to lock windows that had no normal means of ingress. Over time, rumour spread -- with a dose of help from his own storytelling - of a legendary thief in the city; a master bowman, unbeatable thief, friend to the poor, a ghost who walked through walls.
Unfortunately, the same thing plagued this as plagued many of Tempest's plans - a complete and utter lack of foresight. Making himself out to be a master thief was certainly fun, definitely exciting, and all around did absolutely fantastic things for his ego, but... it also drew a lot of attention. And a large portion of that attention came not from those ladies and gentlemen that Tem tried to impress but rather from the city guard, who were all rather spoil-sporty about the whole thing. Really, those guys just couldn't take a joke. But hey, there were plenty fishes in the sea, plenty of cities where people left their windows ajar for a bit of a breeze, plenty of taverns to regale with stories of his amazing derring-do!
Name: Z'ress Narcion
Race: Half Elf (Drow)
Class: Monk (Drunken Master)
Background:
Z'ress was born into slavery in the underdark, her mother being a human slave while her was male drow who cruelly gave her his family name as a sick joke. Due to her half human heritage she was treated much worse growing up, being seen as an abomination by pureblooded drow and a way to take out frustration by the drow hating slaves. This made her learn to stay out of sight as much as possible, helping her to develop her stealth. Her upbringing made her all but mute, never speaking unless what is being said had some importance.
While she is still not sure what happened on the day, a slave rebellion occurred that gave the young half drow a chance to escape. Along with her mother and several others they managed to make it out of the drow controlled caverns and into the greater u nderdark. For weeks the former slaves traveled to the point that less then five of the nearly two dozen people remained. Some had died while others had thought it a brilliant idea to go off on their own.
Eventually a bit of good luck or what some considered divine intervention occurred. While out on an expedition a group of deep gnomes came across the few remaining escappee. Fortunately enough for the party, Z'ress knew enough undercommon and the gnomes knew enough common to communicate enough to get a place to stay for a small amount of time before they were led to the surface. As with any that had spent their entire life in the caverns of the Underdark, Z'ress was completely overwhelmed by the sun and open sky, taking years to truly find the sight normal. With nothing but the ragged clothes on their backs, the young half elf and her mother tried to settle into life on the surface.Unfortunately due to just her appearance this did not always turn out well for Z'ress.
The two did manage to find a home but for fear of being shunned or even at times attacked, Z'ress kept to herself as normal. She made sure to always help her mother but could tell as time passed that her mother was miserable with her life even if she was no longer toiling in the Underdark. The knowledge of this and her own depression led the half elf into a destroyed spiral of lashing out at those that wornged her, this only worsening when she found an even greater fuel for her anger in alcohol.
In one of her drunken stupors she got into fight and ended up missing her target due to her lack of sense. Where she had expected to find her fist hitting into some unprepared farmer, she instead found her hand easily deflected. What followed next was a blinding flurry of well placed blows that had her on the floor before she could blink. The person she had hit was in actuality a monk from the nearby monastery. Normally such behavior would have gotten the young half elf in serious trouble as it had before but thanks to pleading from her mother and mercy from the monk that had laid her out a deal was struck. Z'ress was sent off to the monastery to be forcibly made to sober up, this leading her to being left alone except for someone that brought her meals.
The next several weeks were agony for her as she had to suffer through detoxifying and the withdraw symptoms of alcohol. Near the later stages of her experiences with being made to sober up one of the monks decided she needed something constructive to do to get her mind off of her current situation. At first she ignored the monk but ended up trying to fight them when they teased her by stumbling around her blows like a drunkard only to then easily pummel her in the same fashion. While this at first annoyed her to no end, Z'ress slowly began to study the moments of her opponen to the point that she managed to land a hit on their shoulder.
It took time but the two grudgingly became friends, the monk finely telling her his name was brother Darrius. Despite her lack of conversational skills the two did manage to talk, Darrius explaining to her why he foopund life at the monastery worth while, slowly convincing Z'ress to try living there outside of her forced rehabilitation. This ended up being good for her and after a year she fully joined the monastery and began her martial training. As if there was a sense of irony in the world the monastery focused on the Drunken master style of combat.
While this at first confused the half drow she quickly learned thar despite the name she would never see any type of alcohol enter the monastery. It took a month's for her to get the basics down but once she did her training took off quickly, her elven blood giving her the flexibility and grace to perform the unorthodox moves at. After nearly half of training, Z'ress set out from the monastery in a quest to make her peace with the world and self, the grandmaster of the order telling her to return when she had done so. With a fond farewell to her home of many years, she left and began her journey.
Rekuberk Onc Level 8 | Half Orc | Barbarian (The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks)
Kayassa Level 3 | Satyr | Warlock (Cleath13's LMoP)
Bertolt Silentlash Level 3 | Variant Human | Bard (Our Little Lives Kept in Equipoise: Death House)
Daerthe Narcion Level 4 | Drow | Rogue (Karmoli's Great Upheaval)
If you'd rather not have two Genasi, I also have this Human character ready to play:
Name: Reggie Tracewind
Race: Human
Class: Fighter / Warlock
Reggie Tracewind was the son of an unassuming couple. He had an older sister and a younger brother; the three were very close in age and were each other's childhood best friends. They lived an ordinary life on the family farm about a day's journey from the region's commercial center. Reggie's parents loved each other. The family worked and played together.
What the other Tracewinds didn't know was that when Reggie was 13 years old, he began to hear a voice in his head — a voice not his own. He first heard it in his dreams. When he would wake, he would feel confused and wary, but he could never remember exactly what the voice said. Over the next seven or eight years, the voice started coming to him more and more while he was awake. It spoke in a language Reggie didn't understand at first, but he could understand its intent. It criticized the world around Reggie and sowed seeds of discontent. It encouraged him to do things he knew he shouldn't. As the years went by, Reggie grew distant from the rest of his family. He sought seclusion. He snapped at people for no reason. His family was confused, and his parents even tried punishing him, but that only made it worse. Reggie started understanding the language and trying to communicate with the voice, telling it to leave him alone, but that only encouraged the voice. It told Reggie that it was his friend and was trying to help him. It told Reggie that he could be so much more than a simple farmer. It promised Reggie great power if Reggie would just give himself over to the voice. Reggie never told his family about the voice.
As the years passed, the voice started encouraging Reggie to kill himself so that it could move on to a better host. Reggie told it to leave on its own, but it said it cannot as long as Reggie is still alive. Reggie was tempted on occasion, but didn't want to subject anyone else to the torture, so he resolved to struggle through it himself. Reggie discovered two things which kept the voice at bay, quieting it some and sometimes silencing it: staying very busy and alcohol.
When Reggie was 21, he moved out of the family home and to the commercial center. He was truly scared of what he was becoming, and he didn't want to torture his family anymore. He moved into a room and took odd jobs around the large city. There was another young man who would often take the same jobs as Reggie: Garamond Doost. The two eventually became friends. While Reggie never told Garamond about the voice, Garamond soon realized Reggie was very tortured. He pitied Reggie and constantly tried to lift Reggie's spirits. Garamond's older brother was in the military and would "train" Reggie and Garamond when he had the time. Reggie found that Garamond's constant encouragement and the busyness with which they filled their lives was quieting the voice. After a few years, Reggie started feeling happy on occasion again. Reggie reduced his alcohol consumption. He was making good money and was learning how to wield dual swords, a skill Garamond's brother encouraged since Reggie is ambidextrous.
Unfortunately, Reggie's period of respite was cut short by a horrific event. Because he had been feeling so much better, Reggie decided to spend some time back on the family farm on a kind of holiday. He invited Garamond to join him to finally spend some extended time with the Tracewinds who had only met Garamond in passing over the years. Things went very well for two days. The third morning, Reggie awoke to horror. His four family members and Garamond had been killed in the night ... seemingly by Reggie. Their blood was on his swords and on him. He did not remember anything, but the voice was loud and clear again the next day, congratulating him and encouraging him.
Reggie felt the greatest desire at that time to end his own life. But as he prepared to fall on his sword, the voice was laughing and cheering in his head, and he again resolved to not release the voice to torture another.
Reggie left the region, escaping into busyness and alcohol in another land. He attempted to live life with all of his horrific past following him ... and the voice, which was a constant reminder and adversary. He again began drinking heavily. But as the years went by, even his busyness and alcohol consumption could not drown out the voice. It continued to weasel its way into his mind. It began to consume his dreams even more ravenously.
One particularly bad night, he awoke and knew something in himself had broken. The voice no longer came from his head; it came from his heart. For about two weeks, the voice was quieter — its words were a constant low hum, not understandable, but much more alarming. Then, during a particularly harrowing confrontation with a pack of Bugbear, the voice rose up within Reggie like he had never felt before. He felt it fill his being with a power he had never experienced before. It was ... glorious. With a whisper of encouragement from the voice, he smote one of the Bugbears with a blast of eldrich energy.
I would like to join your adventure.
Name: Lynsway Starcharmer
Race: Variant Aasimar
Class: Bard
As a member of the royal court as an entertainer Lynsway has been in the presence of greatness and great stories for years. Usually called upon to bring levity to the court, Lynsway has dreamed of being the hero in one of his productions and songs. Recently called to entertain at the Dwarven city of Giant's rest he can't pass by this huge event without taking his shot.
Lynsway has a link to ISRAFEL, the Angel of Song. Though this host plays her songs like Armageddon to the end of all things, Lynsway has rejected the destruction of mankind. He has harnessed his power to bring light and love to his new world. At his true nature, he is compassionate and hopeful about the future of man except that the Modron March has put this at risk. Indirectly directed by Israfel to assist in the festival but also to look out for the threat of Evil. His skills as a bard are just an entrance into this new world but to extend his influence he must be willing to transform.
Lynsway possesses all the wonderful attributes of his kind with raven black lustrous hair, flawless bronze skin, and piercing light blue eyes. Despite this natural beauty, he generally covers his looks with comical clown like paint, tying back his hair in a braid, and covering his head with a thick gold embroidered hood. He stands just 6 feet tall and weighs about 210 lbs. Though he is not young, the 50 years on earth is but a third of his expected life. At times he has traveled as an entertainer. I have thrived in front of an audience. Despite my patrons dark intentions for mankind, I have brought laughter and joy usually raising mankinds spirit. The use of my horn and drum have been tools to entertain but cornered and called to attack can also bring terror to my enemies.
DM - New World (LMP), Shield of Bahamut
Darkwing Skyyykiller-Aarakocra Monk- Lost in the Endless Tower
Kabarr Caldera- Fire Genasi- Fighter - Cold Cash
Talley Tafoia-Genasi Cleric-Rising of the Accursed Dragon
Name: Jodon Nimblefingers
Race: Lightfoot Halfling
Class: Sorcerer (Divine Soul)
Jodon’s parents expected him to go into the family business of separating those who have too much from that burden. He had some small measure of skill, but, on his first field test, some eneregy within him repaired the purses as soon as they were cut. His family was at first puzzled and then enraged at this mending, but Jodon took this as a sign that he was meant, not to take, but to give.
Not raised in any religious tradition, Jodon could not put a name to this calling, but time and time again he found himself able to aid others without precisely knowing how, or why. He stopped questioning this gift, content to bestow it upon as many beings as possible, until one day on the road he was beset by brigands not unlike his own family. In his panic, he struck them blind and fled, horrified at what he had done.
He still practices his art on his travels, and but now seeks to put a name to whatever power has given him these gifts, both positive and negative.
Greeting, good sir! I am Korgin Highhill, Lightfoot Halfling Bard from the College of Lore. I've spent much of my life serving in the Kings Court [OOC: The specific court would be up to the DM... something out of town], just as my father and his father before me. My mother was a wealthy courtesan who my father... shall we say charmed the pants off of? What can I say, my lot have always had a way with the fairer sex. *laughs heartily*
In my time as a courtier and bard for the king, I have seen my fair share of action, both on the battlefield in amidst diplomatic negotiations, using my magical playing to bend the ears of our allies and enemies alike to help help my liege form allegiances and avoid war.
My Lord has allowed me a sabbatical for my studies, which is what brings me to Giants Rest. I have heard the tales and songs of the Modron March, and look forward to seeing it with my own eyes... perhaps to compose new songs and stories to pass on to my own children... should I ever find a lass worthy to settle down and carry on the great Highhill name!
Rickett Greysocket
Rock Gnome
Revised Ranger UA (if allowed)
Rickett runs the oiled rag down the metal shield covering his companions rear hind quarters. Just finishing his routine checkup, the creature’s head swivels around to regard it’s friend and personal mechanic. “Welp pal, you’re good to go for another few ten day. You really need to try to avoid those rust vines. Gone unchecked, they could really do some damage to your gonar pistons “ The creature cocks it’s head “I know, I know, I still need to cast a new rotator coil for that shoulder. Just hang in there, we’ll get it installed next time.” Rickett stands and walks over to his work bench and begins putting the tools away. The creature turns back to regard the workshop that has become its home. He’s spent many years here in this place with his friend Rickett, but it misses it’s own. Laying down with a mechanical whurrrr that sounded much like a sigh, it turns to once again watch it’s friend. Rickett looks above his work desk at a large device of gears and sockets that spin slowly on their own. Grabbing a stool to stand on, the gnome steps up and taps on the largest sprocket with a small wrench. “Hmmm just a few weeks now. Before the portal opens again.” Rickett’s viice takes on a strained tone. “You’ll be able to go.. home then. If you want.” The gnome stammers a bit “And of course you would. Why would you want to stay here?” Rickett goes silent and finishes cleaning. “Alright bud. All finished. Let’s get to work.” The creature hops up and follows his friend out the door
Rickett was young gnome the last time the Modrons marched. Finding one, wounded and left behind on the previous march, he helped it and nursed it back to health. The two have been partners and friends ever since.
Dragonlance Chronicles - Xorn
Sail On, Sailor - Sebastian Blackhand
LMoP 20 - Tonk Thunderclaw
Hope is not to late for:
Name: Lyn’danar Hewssar
Race: Wood elf
Rogue/Ranger
Backstory: Once again we need to short out details like the place of origin but it’s easy to change. :)
The quiet and calm young elf was a mistery even for Fren’hyard. The rangers had found him almost ten years ago, near the bodys of his parents, killed by a party of raiding orcs of the Gwash tribe that were attacking the outskirts of Lyrengorn in the past few months. How he had survived was also a mistery, for the child barely spoke of it and no one was sure who killed the orcs that were found in the scene. Everyone assumed that it was the parents before dying, but Fren was starting to suspect that not all of the orcs were killed by the unfortunate couple.
The childhood of Lyn’daran wasn’t easy, for even in their community the child didn’t have anyone who care of him, so he was forced to steal sometimes to survive, and the few pockets of unsavory individuals in the city started to get a hold of him. At least it was the first impression when the guards caught him trying to steal some supplies from the wyvern rider’s barracks. But soon he lead the authorities towards the brain of the operation and tht led to more detentions. Now his mentor was sure that he let the guards capture him on porpuose, led them to the head to assure him a place among the scouts of Lyrengorn and, most of it, that he had learned of them what he needed.
In the following years, Lyn had excell at many disciplines, specially those who made him a more efficient hunter and killer. He rarely joined his companions in celebrations, and even when he did, he was alone, not really taking part of the fun and jokes. His sarcastic and black sense of humor combined with his reserved nature made him a solitary. Many thought that he didn’t care about his companions. In this they were also wrong.
Just a week ago a patrol of students were attacked and captured by a band of wandering goblinoids, led by an ogre. Many scouts and warriors were dispatched looking for them, even some wings of wyvern riders joined the search. Nobody paid attention to the lone student that left the barracks that night aremd with a longbow and a cold determination. For four days he followed a faint track that kept heading north into the Neverfields. He found the orcs and his ogre leader hiding in a ice cavern getting ready to kill the rest of their captives. He planted his arrows in the snow and called for the orcs. As they were emergin from the cave his arrows were killing them. Finally the ogre came out of the cave, and he led the mounstrosity to a crack in the ice he had discovered. Lured the ogre to its edge and made him fall on it. Firing his last two arros to the knee and talon of the ogre he left it at the bottom of the crack, were a pack of dire wolves killed and devoured the ogre. He witnessed it until the end. Two days later the scouts found him almost freezed, for he had lend his cape to one of the survivors, guiding them back to safety. “ They are my brothers, my clan” he replied as only explanation for his acts.
Now, with his face tattoed as a full member of the scouts, Lym’daran were standing in front of his former master and mentor Fren’hyard, but for all his quiet demeneaor and for his cold blood killing their enemies, he was confident that the young elf will die before let any threat to the Elvenspeak come closer to it. He lend his weapons to Lyn who accepted them with a solemn nod. He knew how important this was to him. He was finally accepted as one of them. He had, again, a familiy.
Wanted to add that I can post several times at day if needed. And have some active PbP games running right now so you can check them if you feel it’s right. :)
PbP Character: A few ;)
I also hope it's not too late to jump in on this!
Name: Dorenas Nil
Race: Half-elf
Class: Ranger (Hunter)
Dorenas Nil was born to a human female and knew little of his father except that he abandoned them before his birth and refused to acknowledge him as his son after it. Because of this, Dorenas felt unwanted and unloved as a child despite his mother's best efforts to play both roles. He grew up troubled and those feelings of hurt soon took him to the dark corners of the city where he was born, where he would befriend the younger street thugs and urchins. Quickly learning their trade, he ran the streets with them as they formed a sort of den of thieves for themselves, where all the goods they collected would return back to their base and they would pay the thieves' guild in the city a portion of their pickings. Dorenas continued down this path until his early teens when by chance he stumbled upon a human chasing down an elf smuggler in front of a tavern, tackle him to the floor, and gave him several good punches in the face before binding his hands and throwing him to the guards that were close behind. And to Dorenas's shock and amazement, the guards instead of attacking the man threw him a bag heavy with coins and walked away with the elf.
The young Dorenas approached the man and found out his name was Hellert Thorn, a bounty hunter. He instantly became interested in the profession and after buying Hellert a drink he asked if he could be under his wing. The man was not forthcoming and said he didn't take apprenticeships, but Dorenas was relentless until he finally convinced Hellert to take him on. They left the city the following day, and it was on their journey that the young Dorenas first learned how to become a bounty hunter; their first few quarries were troublesome men who had evaded paying a guild or angered some lord, but as time went on, their bounties fluctuated from the truly vile and crazed criminals to innocent men who didn't deserve to have such bounties on their heads. But Dorenas was enthralled by the lifestyle all the same. In his mid twenties, sometime in midsummer, they were chasing down a particularly nasty quarry, a man who had committed several murders in three different cities and managed to corner him in a rundown shed before he could commit his next kill. A battle ensued, their target going feral almost instantly and trying to escape, and in his attempt managed to kill Hellert with a lucky blow to the head with an axe. Enraged and in immense pain of the death of his father figure, Dorenas slew the murderer and presented him to the guards, collected his bounty, and mourned the loss of his friend and mentor for a week.
He set off after that into the wilds for a time to live in seclusion, away from the fowl, evil nature of the races and instead among nature where things were as they were meant to be. Not corrupted and twisted into vileness. His time there was just under a year, but he became proficient with the bow and in hunting beasts. He returned once more to civilization and picked up the life he knew well once more.
The subsequent years were more or less the same, he would go hunting for his quarry, would give chase, and eventually collect them either dead or alive, depending on how much they had vexed him. He also learned during this time to become more selfish, only looking out for his own interests and everyone else be damned; and every quarry he got that was an elf, he killed without question. It didn't matter to him if they were innocent or not. If an elf had a bounty on their heads, it was an excuse for him to kill, often giving them quick and easy deaths. But the particularly nasty ones he let suffer and succumb to their own pain. His hatred of the elves only grew and even the innocents among them, and the few that he was forced to deal with, he treated with severe prejudice and enmity.
DM - GA's Baldur's Gate
If you are still recruiting, i will create a wizard to fill the gap. Will pos details once i finish it here
Since the recruitment hasn't closed yet i guess i'll take a shot at this
Name: Umben, 12th Zerth
Race: Gith (Githzerai)
Class: Cleric (Order - UA)
Umben was born on a monastery island in the ever-chaotic plane of limbo. The githzerai has their own way of living. In this extremely unpredictable plane of existance they find themselves in need of mental training and order.
He comes from a floating fortress island that is wholly dedicated to the githzerai that ascended to godhood, Zerthimon. Every citizen of the island has to become either a cleric of order, simply called a Zerth, or they sign up as monks or farmers. Since the plane of Limbo has no sustenance for crops or livestock they have small pocketplanes that work as farms.
Umbens parents gave him to the Zerth as soon as he was born, and he has served the cloister ever since. Since he was given to the cloister without his parents even giving him a name he was given the name Umben, which is gith for "Donation", of all things. Umben does not seem to mind his rather unusual name or the fact that he does not know his parents. He loves Zerthimon and he adores order, this to the extent that he tries his best to deviate from most expressions of emotion. Emotions, after all, only lead to unbalance. At least that is what Umben thinks.
Umben is the 12th out of 12 githzerai clerics of order that has been sent out to the material plane of Gellinor to observe this rare occurance. Modrons are beings of order after all, and the Zerth finds the great modron march fascinating. "Why does the modron walk across Gellinor? Why every 289 years?" These are questions Umben wants answered, and thats why he asked his superiors to be sent to Gellinor to observe this strange occurrence.
Blixanix Glitterpain, Goblin Bard - In campaign: Ravnica, City of GuildsThe Soggiest DM - In campaign: Boats, Rocks & RuffiansEira Whitefeather, Human Sorcerer/Warlock - In campaign: Death Inspectors ExpandedRoland "THUNDER HIPPO" Wolfscribe, Human Bloodhunter - In campaign: Core City: A Play-by-post Adventure
I’m going to withdraw my application. Thankyou.
Dragonlance Chronicles - Xorn
Sail On, Sailor - Sebastian Blackhand
LMoP 20 - Tonk Thunderclaw
Need anyone else?
I know this is way past your due date, but the thread hasn't been closed, so...
Name: Crosos Corpra
Race: High Elf
Class: 3 Monk/3 Rogue
Backstory: See PM's. Too much detail here takes away from the RP possibilities later on.
I've played PBP before, but not in these forums, and not 5e. I've watched plenty of Critical Role, and that is the extent of my experience with 5e. I have played several other systems, including 3.5e. I've been doing D&D for years.
I'm choosing PBP because I have a newborn, and playing on something like Roll20 or Fantasy Grounds is not possible. I can check online frequently in short intervals, but not in one big chunk. So PBP.
I can post frequently... several times a day.
Here's one condition from me though: I've played before in "theater of the mind" and I found that it takes away from the tactical aspects that makes many skills and abilities useful and valuable. I do hope there is some form of battle mat to move around on.
GG.