Class and subclass planning on choosing (start at level 2) Rogue - Soulknife
Ability scores 9 15 10 13 15 14
Background Faction Agent
Backstory Her name... and she has an emblem on her shortbow that she knows looks familiar for some frustrating reason she can't place why it looks familiar. But she finds herself staring at the carving on her bow more than is healthy. Beyond that? She has no idea why she has been stuck in this jungle what.. a week? two? time sure passes funny here....
Silvana is part of the Emerald Enclave. Has been since she was no longer a kitten. She believes in the cause and has done what has been necessary to keep what she feels is order in the wild. She has a deep seeded hatred for the undead and delights in taking them out whenever she comes across those abominations. She believes wholeheartedly in her faction, but she isn't one to enjoy the solitude as much as her fellow faction members and struggles with it at times.
She is a young tabaxi and has had her share of errors and defeats, but it never gets her down for long and is ready for the next task. Her shortbow is her choice of weapon, but she feels she can produce more.. when asked about it, she isn't sure how to explain it, but feels there is more inside of her and she meditates on it when she can. She isn't close to anyone and having left her litter when she came of age, she hasn't seen her family in a long time. She tries not to think about it as it just brings her down.
Starting equipment shortbow
RP sample from your character's life/perspective
The night air ruffled Silvana's fur and it felt great against her face. She knew she was a bit too far away from the caravan she had been hired to protect, but well, the noble onboard was insufferable and she just couldn't help herself. Normally she enjoyed these jobs and took them as often as she could, breaking up the monotony of patrolling her assigned area. She gives the man a side-eye glance and sighs, but not this one. Right off the bat he's calling her kitty this and kitty that. C'mon really? So... a little distance was good for both of them.
She gives an audible groan and slumps her shoulders as she sees what the noble is doing. Counting coins? Seriously? Out in the open like this? She stomps over to him and in a very perturbed voice, “You might want to put that away, unless you want bandits to come and take it and if that’s the case, I don’t know why you hired me.” She realizes her ears are flat in her annoyance and makes an effort to relax them to put the noble at ease. The last thing she needs is the man telling others not to hire her.
“What is that you say? Oh…I suppose you’re right.” and the noble tucks away the purse. “How much further? I thought we were going to reach our destination by nightfall? Should we make a fire? I really don’t want to sleep out here though.. Its so damp.” His whiney voice grated on Silvana and she had to suck in a breath through gritted teeth.
She rolls her eyes as she looks away, then responds, “We’ll be there within the hour, I do wonder, what brings you to the small village of Thornvalley? I would think it would be beneath someone of your stature”
The man grins, obviously appreciating the words of the tabaxi and nods vehemently. “Why, how quite astute of you. My daughter lives there and well, sometimes I need to check up on her.” Hmmm.. thinks Silvana, she always thought this was a cute little village, and now she might have a way to get to know some of the people. This might not be such a bad excursion afterall.
Your character's desired role and personality Silvana is an outsider, has been for most of her life, but that doesn't mean she likes it. She has learned many tricks in her roguish ways, but is socially awkward and yearns for a friend. I would say she is not the tank of the group, but does not back down from a fight. She has high levels of stealth and survival and would very much want to scout out for others.
Class and subclass planning on choosing: Bard, College of Lore
Ability scores: STR 10, DEX 16, CON 11, INT 16, WIS 12, CHA 16
Background Custom (Two skills and two tools)
Backstory
The Leagallows liked a simple and hidden life like any halfling family, and, being quite intelligent and enjoying the crafts of brewing and alchemy, oftentimes made careers for themselves as wizard's apprentices. After losing a cousin to a magical experiment gone awry because the wizard had gained information from a demon and didn't secure his wards properly, the Leagallows picketed the mages' guild, and Euphemia's brother Nevet, seeing the incident as evidence of a battle between good and evil, left the comfortable family home to join the famed Sunderpeak Abbey, high in the mountains. Euphemia missed her brother, who had taught her to play the bagpipes, so she followed him and joined as well.
The monks there were mostly human with a smattering of other races. They were isolated and didn't often receive visitors, but took excellent care of those that did come. The monastery was a popular place of pilgrimage despite its inaccessible location, for many reasons including to do penance, to deliver dangerous necromantic artifacts for the monks to destroy, or to seek healing or guidance. The monks would pray and chant many times a day, work and train physically, and fast regularly.
It was a hard life for a halfling, but Euphemia enjoyed the incredible acoustics of the mountain setting and the monastery's magically climate-controlled herb garden and considered it well worth it.
After a couple years of this, a group of knights of the Order of Righteous Indignation (commonly known as the Indignites, often misspoken as Indignants by common folk, to their great indignation) stopped through on their way to slay a dragon that lived in the snowy peaks. Abbot Virgilius, tired of the bagpipes echoing off of the mountain peaks, sent Euphemia along with the Order so that "her talents could be put to better use".
The knights never found the dragon, but Euphemia kept with one of them, a paladin dwarf named Sir Rannik Wrathhammer, to help the Order of Righteous Indignation since her monastery had "transferred" her. She eventually helped him and a party hunt down a group of Talos worshippers who were kidnapping local children, and Sir Rannik Wrathhammer unfortunately died in this endeavor to a Talos' priest's spell, although the party was able to save several of the victims and effectively interrupt their ritual. The loss of Rannik was quite a blow to Euphemia, and she helped inter his body for safekeeping and a pilgrim site for his relics. When his bones were later stolen by orcs, she vowed to recover them…
Starting equipment: Bagpipes
RP sample from your character's life/perspective:
Euphemia, still caked in dust from the road, her cloak thrown back on rather lumpily over the bagpipes securely strapped to her back, amiably follows the herald of the household into the Von Thistlethorns' hold. At her side is her erstwhile distracted companion, Ruadhan. They'd been urgently summoned by a messenger. Very urgently. Their bare feet are silent on the finely laid stone. The tiny, road-worn halfling, robed and hooded in plain weave like a monastic, and the burly outlander with the silver torc about his neck and a tartan cloak thrown over his bare shoulders look painfully out of place in the well-swept court of nobles, courtiers, gentlemen, and ladies, all gazing at the two in barely disguised confusion or disgust.
But there is nothing on the face of the Lord and Lady Von Thistlethorns except hope and respect. They remember the terror of the Northmen who brought the blood and scourge of Talos' name to the land. And they remember who it was who broke the morale of the whole heathen force, rescued their daughter from the blood altars of the priests, and routed the Northmen far from the land with the supernatural terror of a dwarf Paladin's martyrdom.
Euphemia looks brightly at everything she sees as they traverse the estate, nodding in approval here and there, and listens with interest to Count Tilmund Von Thistlethorn, as he stands to greet them. "Greetings, friends. I would perhaps offer more pleasantries at another time, but as it stands, we haven't the time for that. I have you called here today, to request your help dealing with a particularly gruesome evil that has visited our lands. We have received word from a trusted source that a caravan of Heironeous-worshipping pilgrims traveling Northeast were ambushed by orcs, who slew them and stole several relics of great value and some of great power; worse still this source has stated that these orcs were in the service of Iuz. I am sure I do not have to explain why holy relics being stolen by the devotees of Oppression is a terrible thing. My beloved wife," he stated with a nod towards Lady Von Thistlethorn, whom had hired the two before, "has vouched for your ability to handle cultists of the dark gods, and I would ask of your help once more in this time of need. My soldiers are bolstering the countryside to protect the smallfolk, but we need friends of greater ability to help track down and reclaim the lost artifacts. It is a great fear of mine, that the sight of a squad of soldiers would incline the orcs to simply destroy or defile the artifacts, and I would hope that some may succeed, where many would not- will you help us, old friends?"
The halfling's countenance falls darkly upon hearing of the stolen relics, and with one hand she reaches furtively into the leather pouch on her belt, making sure the small toe bone is still in there. "Poor pilgrims," she murmurs, "awful fate. How sad."This is my path now, it has been ever since that fateful day when we pulled their young girl from the blades of cultists, and lost dear Indignant Rannik.
She draws her small height up straight, and then bows. "I will help you, of course, my lord, it will be my honor. By the way, um, what relics might these have been? Do you know?"
Count Tilmund looks chagrined. "We had received permission from the Wrathhammer clan and the Indignites to transfer Sir Rannik's relics to Sunderpeak Abbey. As you know, we'd had them interred in our chapel here, but they were receiving quite the… stream of visitors. So, we…"
"These orcs stole Rannik's bones?"Euphemia squeaks. A cold knot feels as though it has punched into her in the gut.
"Excellent," Ruadhan says, nodding. "As the little one says, it shall, indeed, be our honor!" He genuflects, his tartan cloak swirling around him.
"It is terrible, yes," Lady Charlotte Von Thistlethorn says. "We knew you would understand the reason for our urgent summons. We will provision you, of course, at least for the start of your journey. There is no time to lose. Follow me." Nodding to the guards, who step aside to make way for her, Charlotte Von Thistlethorn leads the way past the gathered courtiers and down a hallway to the east.
Euphemia and Ruadhan follow her. The little halfling's blood still feels as if it's boiling. "It don't end, do it?" she mumbles to Ruadhan. "What a loss."
"Don't you still have his toe bone?" Ruadhan looks less concerned about Rannik's missing remains, and more ready to take on an entire legion of orcs with his bare hands, excitement glowing on his sharp-lined face.
"Sure I have it," Euphemia says, musingly. "I'll tell you how I got it, too. There was that woman in the village, laying in, but she was sick, I went to help her, I prayed to Rannik, and I swear I saw him there. My salves weren't enough but he handed me something to mix it with and she revived and brought forth easy after that...thought I was dreaming at first but then I knew for sure he was in the Fields. Saints don't show unless they are."
Animated by the memories now, she keeps going. "I went to his tomb in the chapel here after that and made a vigil and I saw him then, too. I was making on a bit, I suppose, crying and all, and he told me all was well and I'd better knock off because I knew perfectly well that was how he'd held sure to go when his time came. The fight must go on, he said. And he gave it to me." She pulls the pinkie toe bone out of her pouch, turning it over in her hand. Rannik's pinkie toe."Okay, I checked, and it wasn't on his remains anymore..." She flushes a little with embarrassment. "Didn't touch them I swear." Self-consciously, she shoves the toe bone back into her leather pouch. "So then I went back to the Von Thistlethorns and went back to work with you. Cleaning up goblins and all. Only now…"
"Now," Ruadhan says, importantly, "my spear thirsts for blood, as I thirst for glory!"
"Right, sure thing," Euphemia agrees, a cheerful smile breaking out over her face. "I can already tell twil be a ballad and a half more I'll need to write to properly credit Sir Rannik Wrathhammer's continued victories over the workers of iniquity."
Your character's desired role and personality Euphemia is a scout, sneaker and a performer with a hearty smattering of useful skills. In combat she would be mostly support. Her favored role is to be on the intimidation detail, playing war pipes as her comrades march into battle. This might not be very helpful against giant centipedes, but a rousing march is always good for morale. She has a social and plucky personality, but is wary and cautious as halflings tend to be, and while enthusiastically devout, especially about her personal heroes, she's not particularly studied. Her recent hardships and losses in the service of the Indignites and the Von Thistlethorns have left her with a few more lines on her face than she had previously, but she's still kept her optimism.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Ability scores: 151617141414
These look pretty good.
Bysedd Dur
Human Monk
Bysedd Dur was a student in a school teaching mastery of oneself (in order to provide espionage services and allow the school to maintained itself); the school was subverted and sacrificed to evil from within by someone he had respected and thought a friend. He had had suspicions but did not tell anyone about them and as a result the school, and everyone in it, was destroyed. He only escaped because his Sensei had sent him off to perform a lengthy meditation called "Centering the Circle". Upon his returned the cost of his reluctance to speak up was horribly evident. After searching the ruins he found every student and his Master broken and torn. Lying amid the wreckage, as if a mark of responsibility, a sigil of unspeakable evil; a medallion made red-iron, depicting an alien creature of horrid mien consuming itself. Realizing that the perpetrator of this slaughter would never be brought to justice, Dyn Gwelw swore upon the wreckage of his Sensei's body that evil would pay. As a symbol of his vow and determination he put on the red-iron medallion knowing many would find it repulsive to look upon but, there would be those who might recognize it for what it represented and those would be of great interest to Dyn Gwelw. If asked about it he shrugs off answering.
After burying his fellow students and revered Master he made a silent vow to hunt down and destroy those who committed this savagery and any other sorts of beings that exulted in this kind of destruction.
His penultimate goal is to become, what in the old days was called, Grand Master of Flowers. The better to accomplishing his ultimate goal, destroying evil wherever he found it, without mercy.
He never broaches the subject of his personal quest with anyone.
Question on equipment: 1 item from class or background, meaning if a wizard chooses their spell book, they can choose no other item? Including say, a spell-casting focus?
Question on equipment: 1 item from class or background, meaning if a wizard chooses their spell book, they can choose no other item? Including say, a spell-casting focus?
Good question! If you’re going to do a wizard, you may have a spellbook and arcane focus. Also, if you pick a ranged weapon, you may have 20 ammunition as well.
Class: Fighter and I’m planning on choosing Champion subclass later on.
Ability Scores: 15 16 15 13 14 12
Background: Soldier
Backstory: Four Lizardfolk tribes, BlueFang, Scar, Dreadclaw, and RedWyrm, all compete for the limited resources in the Vast Swamp. The many deadly natural hazards of the swamp included insects that transmitted diseases, noxious clouds of gases, dense fogs that were utterly impenetrable, patches of quicksand and bogs that would suck the unwary down to their doom, and the cold rain that fell thereabouts. Food , especially edible food is hard to come by. The moment we, the Tribe of BlueFang, can talk the males are taken to learn the art of war and survival. Atax is one of many such lizardmen who have lived their whole lives in one long giant battle for the survival of their tribes. When the males of BlueFang reach adulthood at the age of 14 they are sent out to their first skirmish with the other tribes. These skirmishes usually result in many losses but since lizardmen are like rabbits they can afford it. The surviving ones are lauded as heroes and feast on the hearts of their enemies as a barbaric ritual to enter into adulthood. They receive an ornamental weapon as a sign of the ritual. Three years have passed since Atax-Graa has received his bone dagger and he has killed many beasts, other tribe folk, and even his own tribe mates with his prized tool of murder.
Question on equipment: 1 item from class or background, meaning if a wizard chooses their spell book, they can choose no other item? Including say, a spell-casting focus?
Good question! If you’re going to do a wizard, you may have a spellbook and arcane focus. Also, if you pick a ranged weapon, you may have 20 ammunition as well.
Looks like we have a some pretty solid applications on here. I will close the thread and select players on Friday, so y’all have today and tomorrow to finish any applications or apply in the first place if interested.
How much of Ark are you pulling inspiration from? Are we talking vanilla or are you mixing elements of Scorched Earth, Ragnarok and Aberration into things? What about Valguero, with the hidden ocean?
Background: If it is okay, I would like to take the Giant Foundling background. If you would rather me not, then I will take the Soldier background.
Backstory Jurngorn was the adopted son of a cloud giant noble. This noble was cruel and vicious, and trained Jurngorn from birth to be a relentless killer. Day and night, with no rest, Jurngorn trained and trained, until his fists were stronger than steel. When he was ready, the noble sent him out, one by one, to assassinate his rivals. But time and time again, he could not bring himself to kill the innocent rivals, who had done no wrong besides getting in his fathers way. For this, he was punished. Wrapped in chains and tortured relentlessly. Still, Jurngorn muscled his way through, earning him the name “boar spirit” by his father for his unwillingness to submit. One day he… (Well, I’ll leave that part to the RP example)
Starting equipment Chain Mail armor
RP sample from your character's life/perspective
“I’m done with this.” Jurngorn muttered, spitting blood.
“What did you just say?” His father turned, sneering at the pitiful goliath.
“I said I’m done.” Jurngorn said, looking up at his father.
“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you over the sound of your weakness.” His father mocked, turning to leave.
“I said I’M DONE!” Jurngorn bellowed.
“You are not done. You are mine. And you will be for the rest of your worthless little existence.” Even as his father said that, Jurngorn began to strain. His muscles bulging, he forced the chains that bound him to break, links shattering everywhere. “I’m done.”
“You cannot hope to defeat me! I am your sire. I raised you. Made you what you are!” His father raged. How had this puny thing broken those chains? Never mind.
“I cannot now. But I will, one day. I swear upon the Shaper, I will make you crumble.” Jurngorn stood defiantly, then it was his turn to walk out. His father stood in shocked silence. No mortal had ever dared defy him, the master of the Haven, Eleazar the Magnificent. And so, Jurngron walked away. As he left, his father called out to him.
“You are a little Boar-spirit aren’t you? So stubborn? We will see if you can survive.” Jurngorn stopped for a second, Boar-spirit. He liked the sound of that. Besides, all Jurngorn ever needed was his fists and grit. Pure, hardened grit and resolve. He would kill his father, along with all the other bullies.
Your character's desired role and personality Jurngorn would be a melee-striker/tank. He would focus on grappling and unarmed attacks, giving the party a chance to wail on his helpless enemy. Out of combat, he would be something of a party leader only because of his outlook of tenacity and loyalty. When the chips are down, and time is up, Jurngorn always muscles through. He also would look out for the little guys, as he was once the little guy.
How much of Ark are you pulling inspiration from? Are we talking vanilla or are you mixing elements of Scorched Earth, Ragnarok and Aberration into things? What about Valguero, with the hidden ocean?
I haven’t really looked into those quite yet. I essentially took the concept of ARK and then DnD-ified it. I’ll look into the other settings and see if I could pull out and incorporate some concepts from them.
How much of Ark are you pulling inspiration from? Are we talking vanilla or are you mixing elements of Scorched Earth, Ragnarok and Aberration into things? What about Valguero, with the hidden ocean?
I haven’t really looked into those quite yet. I essentially took the concept of ARK and then DnD-ified it. I’ll look into the other settings and see if I could pull out and incorporate some concepts from them.
Alright, I closed it a bit earlier than I originally mentioned, but I felt like I had a pretty good pool to choose from. There were lots of good applications, but alas, I can't pick everyone. So sorry if you didn't make it! I'll be sure to come back here if someone drops out!
Thank you for the chance. Hope everyone survives. or not. Whatever makes the story interesting and fun for you. maybe the players you chose enjoy meatgrinders.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hi, I'm Raccoon_Master,The Rocket Raccoon/Trashcan Tactician (as appointed by Drummer). Pronouns They/Them/Theirs.
My Characters: Brorminthe Crusher; Discoverythe Keeper; Theathe Scoundrel; Jorvirthe Weaver; Threlan,the Speaker; Zolyathe Inspired; Penley the Devourer;
Silvana is part of the Emerald Enclave. Has been since she was no longer a kitten. She believes in the cause and has done what has been necessary to keep what she feels is order in the wild. She has a deep seeded hatred for the undead and delights in taking them out whenever she comes across those abominations. She believes wholeheartedly in her faction, but she isn't one to enjoy the solitude as much as her fellow faction members and struggles with it at times.
She is a young tabaxi and has had her share of errors and defeats, but it never gets her down for long and is ready for the next task. Her shortbow is her choice of weapon, but she feels she can produce more.. when asked about it, she isn't sure how to explain it, but feels there is more inside of her and she meditates on it when she can. She isn't close to anyone and having left her litter when she came of age, she hasn't seen her family in a long time. She tries not to think about it as it just brings her down.
The night air ruffled Silvana's fur and it felt great against her face. She knew she was a bit too far away from the caravan she had been hired to protect, but well, the noble onboard was insufferable and she just couldn't help herself. Normally she enjoyed these jobs and took them as often as she could, breaking up the monotony of patrolling her assigned area. She gives the man a side-eye glance and sighs, but not this one. Right off the bat he's calling her kitty this and kitty that. C'mon really? So... a little distance was good for both of them.
She gives an audible groan and slumps her shoulders as she sees what the noble is doing. Counting coins? Seriously? Out in the open like this? She stomps over to him and in a very perturbed voice, “You might want to put that away, unless you want bandits to come and take it and if that’s the case, I don’t know why you hired me.” She realizes her ears are flat in her annoyance and makes an effort to relax them to put the noble at ease. The last thing she needs is the man telling others not to hire her.
“What is that you say? Oh…I suppose you’re right.” and the noble tucks away the purse. “How much further? I thought we were going to reach our destination by nightfall? Should we make a fire? I really don’t want to sleep out here though.. Its so damp.” His whiney voice grated on Silvana and she had to suck in a breath through gritted teeth.
She rolls her eyes as she looks away, then responds, “We’ll be there within the hour, I do wonder, what brings you to the small village of Thornvalley? I would think it would be beneath someone of your stature”
The man grins, obviously appreciating the words of the tabaxi and nods vehemently. “Why, how quite astute of you. My daughter lives there and well, sometimes I need to check up on her.” Hmmm.. thinks Silvana, she always thought this was a cute little village, and now she might have a way to get to know some of the people. This might not be such a bad excursion afterall.
The Leagallows liked a simple and hidden life like any halfling family, and, being quite intelligent and enjoying the crafts of brewing and alchemy, oftentimes made careers for themselves as wizard's apprentices. After losing a cousin to a magical experiment gone awry because the wizard had gained information from a demon and didn't secure his wards properly, the Leagallows picketed the mages' guild, and Euphemia's brother Nevet, seeing the incident as evidence of a battle between good and evil, left the comfortable family home to join the famed Sunderpeak Abbey, high in the mountains. Euphemia missed her brother, who had taught her to play the bagpipes, so she followed him and joined as well.
The monks there were mostly human with a smattering of other races. They were isolated and didn't often receive visitors, but took excellent care of those that did come. The monastery was a popular place of pilgrimage despite its inaccessible location, for many reasons including to do penance, to deliver dangerous necromantic artifacts for the monks to destroy, or to seek healing or guidance. The monks would pray and chant many times a day, work and train physically, and fast regularly.
It was a hard life for a halfling, but Euphemia enjoyed the incredible acoustics of the mountain setting and the monastery's magically climate-controlled herb garden and considered it well worth it.
After a couple years of this, a group of knights of the Order of Righteous Indignation (commonly known as the Indignites, often misspoken as Indignants by common folk, to their great indignation) stopped through on their way to slay a dragon that lived in the snowy peaks. Abbot Virgilius, tired of the bagpipes echoing off of the mountain peaks, sent Euphemia along with the Order so that "her talents could be put to better use".
The knights never found the dragon, but Euphemia kept with one of them, a paladin dwarf named Sir Rannik Wrathhammer, to help the Order of Righteous Indignation since her monastery had "transferred" her. She eventually helped him and a party hunt down a group of Talos worshippers who were kidnapping local children, and Sir Rannik Wrathhammer unfortunately died in this endeavor to a Talos' priest's spell, although the party was able to save several of the victims and effectively interrupt their ritual. The loss of Rannik was quite a blow to Euphemia, and she helped inter his body for safekeeping and a pilgrim site for his relics. When his bones were later stolen by orcs, she vowed to recover them…
Euphemia, still caked in dust from the road, her cloak thrown back on rather lumpily over the bagpipes securely strapped to her back, amiably follows the herald of the household into the Von Thistlethorns' hold. At her side is her erstwhile distracted companion, Ruadhan. They'd been urgently summoned by a messenger. Very urgently. Their bare feet are silent on the finely laid stone. The tiny, road-worn halfling, robed and hooded in plain weave like a monastic, and the burly outlander with the silver torc about his neck and a tartan cloak thrown over his bare shoulders look painfully out of place in the well-swept court of nobles, courtiers, gentlemen, and ladies, all gazing at the two in barely disguised confusion or disgust.
But there is nothing on the face of the Lord and Lady Von Thistlethorns except hope and respect. They remember the terror of the Northmen who brought the blood and scourge of Talos' name to the land. And they remember who it was who broke the morale of the whole heathen force, rescued their daughter from the blood altars of the priests, and routed the Northmen far from the land with the supernatural terror of a dwarf Paladin's martyrdom.
Euphemia looks brightly at everything she sees as they traverse the estate, nodding in approval here and there, and listens with interest to Count Tilmund Von Thistlethorn, as he stands to greet them. "Greetings, friends. I would perhaps offer more pleasantries at another time, but as it stands, we haven't the time for that. I have you called here today, to request your help dealing with a particularly gruesome evil that has visited our lands. We have received word from a trusted source that a caravan of Heironeous-worshipping pilgrims traveling Northeast were ambushed by orcs, who slew them and stole several relics of great value and some of great power; worse still this source has stated that these orcs were in the service of Iuz. I am sure I do not have to explain why holy relics being stolen by the devotees of Oppression is a terrible thing. My beloved wife," he stated with a nod towards Lady Von Thistlethorn, whom had hired the two before, "has vouched for your ability to handle cultists of the dark gods, and I would ask of your help once more in this time of need. My soldiers are bolstering the countryside to protect the smallfolk, but we need friends of greater ability to help track down and reclaim the lost artifacts. It is a great fear of mine, that the sight of a squad of soldiers would incline the orcs to simply destroy or defile the artifacts, and I would hope that some may succeed, where many would not- will you help us, old friends?"
The halfling's countenance falls darkly upon hearing of the stolen relics, and with one hand she reaches furtively into the leather pouch on her belt, making sure the small toe bone is still in there. "Poor pilgrims," she murmurs, "awful fate. How sad." This is my path now, it has been ever since that fateful day when we pulled their young girl from the blades of cultists, and lost dear Indignant Rannik.
She draws her small height up straight, and then bows. "I will help you, of course, my lord, it will be my honor. By the way, um, what relics might these have been? Do you know?"
Count Tilmund looks chagrined. "We had received permission from the Wrathhammer clan and the Indignites to transfer Sir Rannik's relics to Sunderpeak Abbey. As you know, we'd had them interred in our chapel here, but they were receiving quite the… stream of visitors. So, we…"
"These orcs stole Rannik's bones?" Euphemia squeaks. A cold knot feels as though it has punched into her in the gut.
"Excellent," Ruadhan says, nodding. "As the little one says, it shall, indeed, be our honor!" He genuflects, his tartan cloak swirling around him.
"It is terrible, yes," Lady Charlotte Von Thistlethorn says. "We knew you would understand the reason for our urgent summons. We will provision you, of course, at least for the start of your journey. There is no time to lose. Follow me." Nodding to the guards, who step aside to make way for her, Charlotte Von Thistlethorn leads the way past the gathered courtiers and down a hallway to the east.
Euphemia and Ruadhan follow her. The little halfling's blood still feels as if it's boiling. "It don't end, do it?" she mumbles to Ruadhan. "What a loss."
"Don't you still have his toe bone?" Ruadhan looks less concerned about Rannik's missing remains, and more ready to take on an entire legion of orcs with his bare hands, excitement glowing on his sharp-lined face.
"Sure I have it," Euphemia says, musingly. "I'll tell you how I got it, too. There was that woman in the village, laying in, but she was sick, I went to help her, I prayed to Rannik, and I swear I saw him there. My salves weren't enough but he handed me something to mix it with and she revived and brought forth easy after that...thought I was dreaming at first but then I knew for sure he was in the Fields. Saints don't show unless they are."
Animated by the memories now, she keeps going. "I went to his tomb in the chapel here after that and made a vigil and I saw him then, too. I was making on a bit, I suppose, crying and all, and he told me all was well and I'd better knock off because I knew perfectly well that was how he'd held sure to go when his time came. The fight must go on, he said. And he gave it to me." She pulls the pinkie toe bone out of her pouch, turning it over in her hand. Rannik's pinkie toe. "Okay, I checked, and it wasn't on his remains anymore..." She flushes a little with embarrassment. "Didn't touch them I swear." Self-consciously, she shoves the toe bone back into her leather pouch. "So then I went back to the Von Thistlethorns and went back to work with you. Cleaning up goblins and all. Only now…"
"Now," Ruadhan says, importantly, "my spear thirsts for blood, as I thirst for glory!"
"Right, sure thing," Euphemia agrees, a cheerful smile breaking out over her face. "I can already tell twil be a ballad and a half more I'll need to write to properly credit Sir Rannik Wrathhammer's continued victories over the workers of iniquity."
Ability scores: 12 15 10 12 12 15
Panic is a mechanism that strengthens the gene pool.
Ability scores: 15 16 17 14 14 14
These look pretty good.
Bysedd Dur
Human Monk
Bysedd Dur was a student in a school teaching mastery of oneself (in order to provide espionage services and allow the school to maintained itself); the school was subverted and sacrificed to evil from within by someone he had respected and thought a friend. He had had suspicions but did not tell anyone about them and as a result the school, and everyone in it, was destroyed. He only escaped because his Sensei had sent him off to perform a lengthy meditation called "Centering the Circle". Upon his returned the cost of his reluctance to speak up was horribly evident. After searching the ruins he found every student and his Master broken and torn. Lying amid the wreckage, as if a mark of responsibility, a sigil of unspeakable evil; a medallion made red-iron, depicting an alien creature of horrid mien consuming itself. Realizing that the perpetrator of this slaughter would never be brought to justice, Dyn Gwelw swore upon the wreckage of his Sensei's body that evil would pay. As a symbol of his vow and determination he put on the red-iron medallion knowing many would find it repulsive to look upon but, there would be those who might recognize it for what it represented and those would be of great interest to Dyn Gwelw. If asked about it he shrugs off answering.
After burying his fellow students and revered Master he made a silent vow to hunt down and destroy those who committed this savagery and any other sorts of beings that exulted in this kind of destruction.
His penultimate goal is to become, what in the old days was called, Grand Master of Flowers. The better to accomplishing his ultimate goal, destroying evil wherever he found it, without mercy.
He never broaches the subject of his personal quest with anyone.
More to follow shortly
Panic is a mechanism that strengthens the gene pool.
Question on equipment: 1 item from class or background, meaning if a wizard chooses their spell book, they can choose no other item? Including say, a spell-casting focus?
Mud(Paladin2):Frandal's Scourge/Inge(Barbarian1):Krayveneer's After the Fall/Seri(Cleric1/Sorcerer1):Uhtred's Windward Isles/Shin(Wizard2):Dimir_MTG's Surviving
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric3):Vos' Beyond the Veil/Soren(Druid4):Bartjeebus' Ravenloft/Nivi(Rogue3):Raiketsu's CoS/Lyra(Warlock2/Bard2):BlameItOnWinter's Will of the Ancients
Joren(Fighter5):NotDrizzt's Simple Request/Quyen(Adept1):Constance's Nentir Vale/Rel(Warlock2):Uhtred's Phandelver/Xarian(Fighter1/Wizard1):ShieldHero's Drakkenheim
Good question! If you’re going to do a wizard, you may have a spellbook and arcane focus. Also, if you pick a ranged weapon, you may have 20 ammunition as well.
Ability scores: 14 11 17 14 11 12
This looks awesome! It made me consider actually playing a monk for once. Instead, I have a Fighter I'll post in a bit.
Hi, I'm Raccoon_Master, The Rocket Raccoon/Trashcan Tactician (as appointed by Drummer). Pronouns They/Them/Theirs.
My Characters: Brormin the Crusher; Discovery the Keeper; Thea the Scoundrel; Jorvir the Weaver; Threlan, the Speaker; Zolya the Inspired; Penley the Devourer;
DMing: Dark God's Dread; Raccoon's Strixhaven, Dungeon of The Dead Mage
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We love unable to parse dice rolls. Im going to roll all those again (hopefully it works):
Ability scores: 14 14 16 14 8 14
Hi, I'm Raccoon_Master, The Rocket Raccoon/Trashcan Tactician (as appointed by Drummer). Pronouns They/Them/Theirs.
My Characters: Brormin the Crusher; Discovery the Keeper; Thea the Scoundrel; Jorvir the Weaver; Threlan, the Speaker; Zolya the Inspired; Penley the Devourer;
DMing: Dark God's Dread; Raccoon's Strixhaven, Dungeon of The Dead Mage
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Second ability roll: Ability scores: 12 9 14 17 14 14
Name: Atax-Graa
Class: Fighter and I’m planning on choosing Champion subclass later on.
Ability Scores: 15 16 15 13 14 12
Background: Soldier
Backstory: Four Lizardfolk tribes, BlueFang, Scar, Dreadclaw, and RedWyrm, all compete for the limited resources in the Vast Swamp. The many deadly natural hazards of the swamp included insects that transmitted diseases, noxious clouds of gases, dense fogs that were utterly impenetrable, patches of quicksand and bogs that would suck the unwary down to their doom, and the cold rain that fell thereabouts. Food , especially edible food is hard to come by.
The moment we, the Tribe of BlueFang, can talk the males are taken to learn the art of war and survival. Atax is one of many such lizardmen who have lived their whole lives in one long giant battle for the survival of their tribes.
When the males of BlueFang reach adulthood at the age of 14 they are sent out to their first skirmish with the other tribes. These skirmishes usually result in many losses but since lizardmen are like rabbits they can afford it. The surviving ones are lauded as heroes and feast on the hearts of their enemies as a barbaric ritual to enter into adulthood. They receive an ornamental weapon as a sign of the ritual.
Three years have passed since Atax-Graa has received his bone dagger and he has killed many beasts, other tribe folk, and even his own tribe mates with his prized tool of murder.
RP Sample: I’ll finish this later
Got it - thank you!
Mud(Paladin2):Frandal's Scourge/Inge(Barbarian1):Krayveneer's After the Fall/Seri(Cleric1/Sorcerer1):Uhtred's Windward Isles/Shin(Wizard2):Dimir_MTG's Surviving
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric3):Vos' Beyond the Veil/Soren(Druid4):Bartjeebus' Ravenloft/Nivi(Rogue3):Raiketsu's CoS/Lyra(Warlock2/Bard2):BlameItOnWinter's Will of the Ancients
Joren(Fighter5):NotDrizzt's Simple Request/Quyen(Adept1):Constance's Nentir Vale/Rel(Warlock2):Uhtred's Phandelver/Xarian(Fighter1/Wizard1):ShieldHero's Drakkenheim
Looks like we have a some pretty solid applications on here. I will close the thread and select players on Friday, so y’all have today and tomorrow to finish any applications or apply in the first place if interested.
How much of Ark are you pulling inspiration from? Are we talking vanilla or are you mixing elements of Scorched Earth, Ragnarok and Aberration into things? What about Valguero, with the hidden ocean?
“I’m done with this.” Jurngorn muttered, spitting blood.
“What did you just say?” His father turned, sneering at the pitiful goliath.
“I said I’m done.” Jurngorn said, looking up at his father.
“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you over the sound of your weakness.” His father mocked, turning to leave.
“I said I’M DONE!” Jurngorn bellowed.
“You are not done. You are mine. And you will be for the rest of your worthless little existence.” Even as his father said that, Jurngorn began to strain. His muscles bulging, he forced the chains that bound him to break, links shattering everywhere.
“I’m done.”
“You cannot hope to defeat me! I am your sire. I raised you. Made you what you are!” His father raged. How had this puny thing broken those chains? Never mind.
“I cannot now. But I will, one day. I swear upon the Shaper, I will make you crumble.” Jurngorn stood defiantly, then it was his turn to walk out. His father stood in shocked silence. No mortal had ever dared defy him, the master of the Haven, Eleazar the Magnificent. And so, Jurngron walked away. As he left, his father called out to him.
“You are a little Boar-spirit aren’t you? So stubborn? We will see if you can survive.” Jurngorn stopped for a second, Boar-spirit. He liked the sound of that. Besides, all Jurngorn ever needed was his fists and grit. Pure, hardened grit and resolve. He would kill his father, along with all the other bullies.
Your character's desired role and personality Jurngorn would be a melee-striker/tank. He would focus on grappling and unarmed attacks, giving the party a chance to wail on his helpless enemy. Out of combat, he would be something of a party leader only because of his outlook of tenacity and loyalty. When the chips are down, and time is up, Jurngorn always muscles through. He also would look out for the little guys, as he was once the little guy.
Hi, I'm Raccoon_Master, The Rocket Raccoon/Trashcan Tactician (as appointed by Drummer). Pronouns They/Them/Theirs.
My Characters: Brormin the Crusher; Discovery the Keeper; Thea the Scoundrel; Jorvir the Weaver; Threlan, the Speaker; Zolya the Inspired; Penley the Devourer;
DMing: Dark God's Dread; Raccoon's Strixhaven, Dungeon of The Dead Mage
Join the Anything but the OGL 2.0 Thread!
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I haven’t really looked into those quite yet. I essentially took the concept of ARK and then DnD-ified it. I’ll look into the other settings and see if I could pull out and incorporate some concepts from them.
If you're interested in seeing it, for ideas:
Scorched Earth: https://youtu.be/9Hwdh8enX7Q?si=4hLB4No9ldUYzctD
Aberration: https://youtu.be/ZKm5u2CwgWI?si=XkFuqGUD3n8THSSD
Alright, I closed it a bit earlier than I originally mentioned, but I felt like I had a pretty good pool to choose from. There were lots of good applications, but alas, I can't pick everyone. So sorry if you didn't make it! I'll be sure to come back here if someone drops out!
Thank you for your consideration!
Long live the PCs of the Past:
Puck of the Shivering Summit -- Tabaxi Bard, College of Lore -- Lyrel's Lost Mines of Phandelver
Alus -- High Elf Cleric of Valkur, Tempest Domain -- Yet Another Storm King's Thunder
Ah'brasar -- Aarakocra Druid, Circle of Wildfire -- Yet Another Storm King's Thunder
Furlong J. Rosewood -- Human Monk, Way of the Open Hand -- The Exploits of Misfit Company
Thank you for the chance. Hope everyone survives. or not. Whatever makes the story interesting and fun for you. maybe the players you chose enjoy meatgrinders.
Hi, I'm Raccoon_Master, The Rocket Raccoon/Trashcan Tactician (as appointed by Drummer). Pronouns They/Them/Theirs.
My Characters: Brormin the Crusher; Discovery the Keeper; Thea the Scoundrel; Jorvir the Weaver; Threlan, the Speaker; Zolya the Inspired; Penley the Devourer;
DMing: Dark God's Dread; Raccoon's Strixhaven, Dungeon of The Dead Mage
Join the Anything but the OGL 2.0 Thread!
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