This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
15121671711 ability scores
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
‘ too much of a bio to fit here. call me Bananer for short, I’m one of the forum’s resident insane things. I’m a nongender Therian (look it up!) and also a silver dragon (not my kintype, just a me thing.) I’m a rogue and wizard, and if you want more info on me, PM me, or ask someone else. I’m well known.
‘ too much of a bio to fit here. call me Bananer for short, I’m one of the forum’s resident insane things. I’m a nongender Therian (look it up!) and also a silver dragon (not my kintype, just a me thing.) I’m a rogue and wizard, and if you want more info on me, PM me, or ask someone else. I’m well known.
description: Saferetan Unrelentiad was once a [big shot] in the deep underground...No one even knew their real name! (that's good for a criminal) Sadly (for them) somebody found their real name out! Later, when an underground meeting place was raided, they targeted an old rival, Saferetan Unrelentiad. That's all we know so far, as they WERE good at hiding their past...sadly.
Hey, how ya doing? Oh, did you 4get what happened, really? that's really sad. At least you did well in that game... High 5! k, I get you didn't always like art class, but that was with any class. So can you draw?
I don't know why it could've happened, but glitches happen. It once happened in the middle of a battle for a harpy
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hey, how ya doing? Oh, did you 4get what happened, really? that's really sad. At least you did well in that game... High 5! k, I get you didn't always like art class, but that was with any class. So can you draw?
The morning on the twelfth day of Seventhmoon (Seventh month) is peaceful across all of Ygrai, a brief rest before the Games begin. Where were all of you- Calanin, Kuuraht, Matthÿse, Saferetan, Lenkrad- on that fateful morning?
(OOC: LTFrosties, can you make Lenkrad public? I don't have access to the character sheet. Also, I pulled the plug and put up the "private" tag. If you have anyone else you want to join, please ask me first.)
Hey, how ya doing? Oh, did you 4get what happened, really? that's really sad. At least you did well in that game... High 5! k, I get you didn't always like art class, but that was with any class. So can you draw?
(OOC: OH, gosh. I didn't know we were starting today. I'll try not to fumble with the rolls.)
Matthÿse awakens early in the morning within his chamber inside the temple dedicated to an ancient deity of war. With a sense of purpose, he gathers his belongings, the weight of his armor and the comforting presence of his warhammer and shield grounding him. He makes his way through the echoing corridors of the temple towards the prayer hall to pay respects to his patron deity by burning incense and kneeling down in front of its statue and prays for the strength and courage to face the challenges that lie ahead of him.
The guards march you to Noxthai's city center, where crowds of people are waiting. You wait, watching the citizens being chosen for the Games of Redemption (as they are called), watching parents cry as their children are led away, and then the booming voice of the archmayor, Lord Alren, sweep over the crowd like it has done for many years. Several prisoners are called. "And, finally," Lord Alren says, "One of our most impressive prisoners. Saferetan Unre-" suddenly his voice catches as his tongue struggles over the pronunciation of your name- "Saferetan Unrelentiad!"
And you remember, as the guards are dragging you past the cheering citizens of Noxthai, happy that they've survived another year and excited for the bloodshed to begin, you remember the fights. Every week, for the entire year. The humans said that no elf could ever be a fighter, calling them "pointy-eared bastards" while drinking their daily allotment of ale, and the elves shunned you for being too brutal- "humans spend their days covering themselves in blood- you could never be one of us!" Then you won every fight, guaranteeing you a place in the Games. As you raise your fist in victory on the stage, next to Lord Alren, a pudgy dragonborn who annoys you for some reason, a thought flashes through your head- win, or die. The untold rules of the Games. No one said that I could do it. Let's show them they're wrong.
You're quickly whisked onto a flying carriage, a nearly flat, circular vehicle with windows lining the sides that is pulled by an assortment of beasts- in this case, several small dragons. After about a day of traveling, in front of you, you suddenly see a majestic castle rising out of the clouds, its spiral towers seemingly reaching towards the moon. Castell Mac’odíër. All know of it, the floating castle, enchanted long ago by some eldritch magick. Inside, lies the elf who made all of these Games happen- Lord Vïldarél.
I'm at home, or one of them. I'm standing in a ruined and scorched chapel near the edge of the West District. I can hear the festivities all around, and people sound happy they've found a "champion." Good for them. But I'm here to remember a friend.
The scar across my chest burns, as it should. This pain -- him, Vahna, Keen, Cedric. These are the people I'm fighting for. I can only hope my effort gives the others a little recognition, something that could help them... no, they're dead and gone. But there are others. There are never not beggars on the street. For the longest time, it's how we lived.
And now, it's why I fight. I leave a copper on the altar before turning on my heels. I grab my pick and enter the throngs of the cheering crowd...
I slightly grit my teeth for one moment, thinking about Lord Vïldarél...but regain the composure that I had left.
"I want to know the 'contestants' that are being forced into these games." I said, while looking around, taking in my situation.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hey, how ya doing? Oh, did you 4get what happened, really? that's really sad. At least you did well in that game... High 5! k, I get you didn't always like art class, but that was with any class. So can you draw?
I couldn't care less about Vïldarél, though. The lasting peace I can live with. But this, this is still bloodsport, plain and simple.
I take a deep breath and focus. I'm also meeting my fellow competitors. It's worth a bit of cordiality to meet those whose blood you may spill for the same greater "good."
(OOC: Sorry, Y4DI! I didn't see your post for a sec there. We don't have to start yet if not everyone's ready. PM me if you need more time to prepare.)
A soldier taps on your back. "You're late, dragonborn. Come on."
Once you make it to the town hall of Therindor, a small village on the coast of Rydek, one of the islands on the Archipelago, the rest of the town has already gathered there. Everybody turns and looks at you, and the embarrassment brings heat to your face. Dragonborn aren't welcomed kindly here. "Hello?" the mayor says in her trademark high-pitched, warbling voice. "Sir? Are you, by any chance, the dragon named Matthÿse? You've been selected."
(OOC: OH, gosh. I didn't know we were starting today. I'll try not to fumble with the rolls.)
Matthÿse awakens early in the morning within his chamber inside the temple dedicated to an ancient deity of war. With a sense of purpose, he gathers his belongings, the weight of his armor and the comforting presence of his warhammer and shield grounding him. He makes his way through the echoing corridors of the temple towards the prayer hall to pay respects to his patron deity by burning incense and kneeling down in front of its statue and prays for the strength and courage to face the challenges that lie ahead of him.
(OOC: Sorry, Y4DI! I didn't see your post for a sec there. We don't have to start yet if not everyone's ready. PM me if you need more time to prepare.)
A soldier taps on your back. "You're late, dragonborn. Come on."
Once you make it to the town hall of Therindor, a small village on the coast of Rydek, one of the islands on the Archipelago, the rest of the town has already gathered there. Everybody turns and looks at you, and the embarrassment brings heat to your face. Dragonborn aren't welcomed kindly here. "Hello?" the mayor says in her trademark high-pitched, warbling voice. "Sir? Are you, by any chance, the dragon named Matthÿse? You've been selected."
(OOC: OH, gosh. I didn't know we were starting today. I'll try not to fumble with the rolls.)
Matthÿse awakens early in the morning within his chamber inside the temple dedicated to an ancient deity of war. With a sense of purpose, he gathers his belongings, the weight of his armor and the comforting presence of his warhammer and shield grounding him. He makes his way through the echoing corridors of the temple towards the prayer hall to pay respects to his patron deity by burning incense and kneeling down in front of its statue and prays for the strength and courage to face the challenges that lie ahead of him.
(OOC: Don’t worry, the character is ready, I just wasn’t sure if it was announced earlier or not.)
Matthÿse, still flustered by the fact he was late, would flinch in realization after being addressed by the mayor’s high-pitched voice:
“Apologies, madam. Indeed, I am Matthÿse. How and when shall I proceed to the Games?”
Despite the disapproval lingering in the air, Matthÿse maintains his decorum, determined to carry out his duties with dignity and honor, regardless of others' perceptions.
I think for a moment or two. "Hello...fellow contestants"
I bounce my leg because of my impatience and annoyance with this situation.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hey, how ya doing? Oh, did you 4get what happened, really? that's really sad. At least you did well in that game... High 5! k, I get you didn't always like art class, but that was with any class. So can you draw?
(OOC: Thanks to all who have posted! I'm going to be bot-ing for Calanin and Lenkrad (until we get responses from their players) right now unless anyone has objections?)
Kuuraht is chosen by the crowd, a special feature for the people of the West District. They can send their best friends or their worst enemies to almost certain death. After the long carriage-ride, which you spend cramped in between others chosen for the Games- the Citadel might seem like it's got everything, but it doesn't have the riches to afford individual transport for dozens. Once Castell Mac’odíër comes into view, most of the contestants gasp. This is something they've only dreamt about. You come into the "docks", long rooms with strips of floor missing so that carriages don't scrape themselves landing on the ground. You're hustled out of the carriage and into your quarters- a bedroom with a huge canopied bed, a bathroom with a shower and a bath- warm water, a luxury- and a large living room with several couches and chairs, along with pegs for hats and coats for visitors. A dark oak door leads out to a hallway with other similar spaces for the other teams. Matthÿse and Saferetan, you have been ushered here and arrive at the same time as Kuuraht, and all three of you discover that two contestants are already there - an elf and someone who has pointed ears, but the features of a human.
"You can go through here, Matthÿse," she says while pointing to a door behind her, spit flying from her mouth when she says your name. As the soldiers escort (grab you by the shoulders and force you to walk) you past her, she steps away. As you walk out to a carriage pulled by some sort of flying horses, you hear a faint, ecstatic shout from in the town hall- "The dragon's gone!" Most of the long ride, the soldiers glower at you.
When you make it to Castell Mac’odíër, you have no time to sightsee and are immediately rushed to your quarters, where you meet a hobgoblin, two half-elves, and an elf. A servant comes in behind you, places a large jug of what seems to be a beer of some sort in the room, and then rushes out.
"Hello, fellow contestant!" comes the voice of one of the half-elves.
Matthÿse stands in the doorway taking in the luxurious quarters he's been brought to. This is more than he could have imagined. He didn't know what to expect of the contestants around him, but he'll greet them all merrily, as if he's genuinely glad to be here despite the circumstances we're all in:
"Greetings, fellow warriors! I am Matthÿse, and it's a blessing to stand here before you all."
He will greet whoever extends their hand with a firm handshake. And although he stands tall at about 6'8"ft, he almost hunches over to greet everyone at their level with respect. He isn't really sure if these people are his friends or foes, but that doesn't stop him from trying to be cordial.
I find myself surprised by the nature of a few of my fellow competitors. Some of them seem... colder to this than I expected. Perhaps I'm not the only one to see this for the barbarity that it is. As I further contend to this notion, the exclamation of the dragonkin upon his arrival arouses me from my inner thoughts.
I approach him, though do not shake his hand. Respect of that sort comes about only if we both were to survive the first round. Instead, I click my boots together, standing straight, and bow low before him. "Greetings to you, sir. I am Kuuraht." I often forget how deep and gravelly my voice sounds. So often do I find myself reminiscing that I'm far more used to my childhood trilling than my booming baritone. I politely continue, "it seems we may have to kill each other in the near future. If there is any consolation to my words, I apologize for whatever may happen."
I'm certain my eyes, crackling with electric blue light, do nothing to assist in first impressions, but I try to summon a small smile, for the sake of prudence as I straighten up once more.
Matthÿse looks Kuuraht straight in the eyes, unbothered by the crackling of energy or the notion of potentially dying by his hands:
I assure you, sir Kuuraht, I came prepared to emerge victorious or die on the battlefield. However, I am unfamiliar with the rules of these "Games" or the rules that we must follow whilst we are within these quarters.
And Matthÿse will grab whatever the servant left for us to drink and will begin to mutter to himself in a hushed voice for 10 minutes if no one interrupts him.
(OOC: I would like to ritually cast Detect Poison & Disease to make sure there's no foul play within the room)
15 12 16 7 17 11 ability scores
‘ too much of a bio to fit here. call me Bananer for short, I’m one of the forum’s resident insane things. I’m a nongender Therian (look it up!) and also a silver dragon (not my kintype, just a me thing.) I’m a rogue and wizard, and if you want more info on me, PM me, or ask someone else. I’m well known.
PM ME THE WORD BANANA! PRAISE JEFF! Check out my support thread! https://www.dndbeyond.com/forums/off-topic/adohands-kitchen/195676-just-a-support-thread
https://www.dndbeyond.com/characters/120624937/BAObSe
Character description later.
‘ too much of a bio to fit here. call me Bananer for short, I’m one of the forum’s resident insane things. I’m a nongender Therian (look it up!) and also a silver dragon (not my kintype, just a me thing.) I’m a rogue and wizard, and if you want more info on me, PM me, or ask someone else. I’m well known.
PM ME THE WORD BANANA! PRAISE JEFF! Check out my support thread! https://www.dndbeyond.com/forums/off-topic/adohands-kitchen/195676-just-a-support-thread
Ability scores: 15 15 15 17 18 7
Name: Saferetan Unrelentiad
Race: Half-Elf
Class: Fighter and Wizard
description: Saferetan Unrelentiad was once a [big shot] in the deep underground...No one even knew their real name! (that's good for a criminal) Sadly (for them) somebody found their real name out! Later, when an underground meeting place was raided, they targeted an old rival, Saferetan Unrelentiad. That's all we know so far, as they WERE good at hiding their past...sadly.
I made that in a minute
Hey, how ya doing? Oh, did you 4get what happened, really? that's really sad. At least you did well in that game... High 5! k, I get you didn't always like art class, but that was with any class. So can you draw?
Use (www.tinyurl/)
Y4D1, I think you want to click the d6 in the tools bar and click on "ability scores". PbP could be glitching tho :/
DM: Lord of Nessus - A D&D 5e Homebrew Campaign, A Rapidly Rotating Fractal - A D&D 5e Sci-fi Homebrew Campaign
Please use with caution. Batteries not included.
I don't know why it could've happened, but glitches happen. It once happened in the middle of a battle for a harpy
Hey, how ya doing? Oh, did you 4get what happened, really? that's really sad. At least you did well in that game... High 5! k, I get you didn't always like art class, but that was with any class. So can you draw?
Use (www.tinyurl/)
The morning on the twelfth day of Seventhmoon (Seventh month) is peaceful across all of Ygrai, a brief rest before the Games begin. Where were all of you- Calanin, Kuuraht, Matthÿse, Saferetan, Lenkrad- on that fateful morning?
(OOC: LTFrosties, can you make Lenkrad public? I don't have access to the character sheet. Also, I pulled the plug and put up the "private" tag. If you have anyone else you want to join, please ask me first.)
DM: Lord of Nessus - A D&D 5e Homebrew Campaign, A Rapidly Rotating Fractal - A D&D 5e Sci-fi Homebrew Campaign
Please use with caution. Batteries not included.
I am in a criminal prison cell but with all my equipment.
"Get ready, the games are almost beginning. Remember, this will lessen, or negate, your sentence...if you survive." A guard said.
I remember...it would be easier to get rid of me this way, so my connections would mean little to none.
Hey, how ya doing? Oh, did you 4get what happened, really? that's really sad. At least you did well in that game... High 5! k, I get you didn't always like art class, but that was with any class. So can you draw?
Use (www.tinyurl/)
(OOC: OH, gosh. I didn't know we were starting today. I'll try not to fumble with the rolls.)
Matthÿse awakens early in the morning within his chamber inside the temple dedicated to an ancient deity of war. With a sense of purpose, he gathers his belongings, the weight of his armor and the comforting presence of his warhammer and shield grounding him. He makes his way through the echoing corridors of the temple towards the prayer hall to pay respects to his patron deity by burning incense and kneeling down in front of its statue and prays for the strength and courage to face the challenges that lie ahead of him.
The guards march you to Noxthai's city center, where crowds of people are waiting. You wait, watching the citizens being chosen for the Games of Redemption (as they are called), watching parents cry as their children are led away, and then the booming voice of the archmayor, Lord Alren, sweep over the crowd like it has done for many years. Several prisoners are called. "And, finally," Lord Alren says, "One of our most impressive prisoners. Saferetan Unre-" suddenly his voice catches as his tongue struggles over the pronunciation of your name- "Saferetan Unrelentiad!"
And you remember, as the guards are dragging you past the cheering citizens of Noxthai, happy that they've survived another year and excited for the bloodshed to begin, you remember the fights. Every week, for the entire year. The humans said that no elf could ever be a fighter, calling them "pointy-eared bastards" while drinking their daily allotment of ale, and the elves shunned you for being too brutal- "humans spend their days covering themselves in blood- you could never be one of us!" Then you won every fight, guaranteeing you a place in the Games. As you raise your fist in victory on the stage, next to Lord Alren, a pudgy dragonborn who annoys you for some reason, a thought flashes through your head- win, or die. The untold rules of the Games. No one said that I could do it. Let's show them they're wrong.
You're quickly whisked onto a flying carriage, a nearly flat, circular vehicle with windows lining the sides that is pulled by an assortment of beasts- in this case, several small dragons. After about a day of traveling, in front of you, you suddenly see a majestic castle rising out of the clouds, its spiral towers seemingly reaching towards the moon. Castell Mac’odíër. All know of it, the floating castle, enchanted long ago by some eldritch magick. Inside, lies the elf who made all of these Games happen- Lord Vïldarél.
DM: Lord of Nessus - A D&D 5e Homebrew Campaign, A Rapidly Rotating Fractal - A D&D 5e Sci-fi Homebrew Campaign
Please use with caution. Batteries not included.
I'm at home, or one of them. I'm standing in a ruined and scorched chapel near the edge of the West District. I can hear the festivities all around, and people sound happy they've found a "champion." Good for them. But I'm here to remember a friend.
The scar across my chest burns, as it should. This pain -- him, Vahna, Keen, Cedric. These are the people I'm fighting for. I can only hope my effort gives the others a little recognition, something that could help them... no, they're dead and gone. But there are others. There are never not beggars on the street. For the longest time, it's how we lived.
And now, it's why I fight. I leave a copper on the altar before turning on my heels. I grab my pick and enter the throngs of the cheering crowd...
I slightly grit my teeth for one moment, thinking about Lord Vïldarél...but regain the composure that I had left.
"I want to know the 'contestants' that are being forced into these games." I said, while looking around, taking in my situation.
Hey, how ya doing? Oh, did you 4get what happened, really? that's really sad. At least you did well in that game... High 5! k, I get you didn't always like art class, but that was with any class. So can you draw?
Use (www.tinyurl/)
I couldn't care less about Vïldarél, though. The lasting peace I can live with. But this, this is still bloodsport, plain and simple.
I take a deep breath and focus. I'm also meeting my fellow competitors. It's worth a bit of cordiality to meet those whose blood you may spill for the same greater "good."
(OOC: Sorry, Y4DI! I didn't see your post for a sec there. We don't have to start yet if not everyone's ready. PM me if you need more time to prepare.)
A soldier taps on your back. "You're late, dragonborn. Come on."
Once you make it to the town hall of Therindor, a small village on the coast of Rydek, one of the islands on the Archipelago, the rest of the town has already gathered there. Everybody turns and looks at you, and the embarrassment brings heat to your face. Dragonborn aren't welcomed kindly here. "Hello?" the mayor says in her trademark high-pitched, warbling voice. "Sir? Are you, by any chance, the dragon named Matthÿse? You've been selected."
DM: Lord of Nessus - A D&D 5e Homebrew Campaign, A Rapidly Rotating Fractal - A D&D 5e Sci-fi Homebrew Campaign
Please use with caution. Batteries not included.
(OOC: Don’t worry, the character is ready, I just wasn’t sure if it was announced earlier or not.)
Matthÿse, still flustered by the fact he was late, would flinch in realization after being addressed by the mayor’s high-pitched voice:
“Apologies, madam. Indeed, I am Matthÿse. How and when shall I proceed to the Games?”
Despite the disapproval lingering in the air, Matthÿse maintains his decorum, determined to carry out his duties with dignity and honor, regardless of others' perceptions.
I think for a moment or two.
"Hello...fellow contestants"
I bounce my leg because of my impatience and annoyance with this situation.
Hey, how ya doing? Oh, did you 4get what happened, really? that's really sad. At least you did well in that game... High 5! k, I get you didn't always like art class, but that was with any class. So can you draw?
Use (www.tinyurl/)
(OOC: Thanks to all who have posted! I'm going to be bot-ing for Calanin and Lenkrad (until we get responses from their players) right now unless anyone has objections?)
Kuuraht is chosen by the crowd, a special feature for the people of the West District. They can send their best friends or their worst enemies to almost certain death. After the long carriage-ride, which you spend cramped in between others chosen for the Games- the Citadel might seem like it's got everything, but it doesn't have the riches to afford individual transport for dozens. Once Castell Mac’odíër comes into view, most of the contestants gasp. This is something they've only dreamt about. You come into the "docks", long rooms with strips of floor missing so that carriages don't scrape themselves landing on the ground. You're hustled out of the carriage and into your quarters- a bedroom with a huge canopied bed, a bathroom with a shower and a bath- warm water, a luxury- and a large living room with several couches and chairs, along with pegs for hats and coats for visitors. A dark oak door leads out to a hallway with other similar spaces for the other teams. Matthÿse and Saferetan, you have been ushered here and arrive at the same time as Kuuraht, and all three of you discover that two contestants are already there - an elf and someone who has pointed ears, but the features of a human.
DM: Lord of Nessus - A D&D 5e Homebrew Campaign, A Rapidly Rotating Fractal - A D&D 5e Sci-fi Homebrew Campaign
Please use with caution. Batteries not included.
"You can go through here, Matthÿse," she says while pointing to a door behind her, spit flying from her mouth when she says your name. As the soldiers escort (grab you by the shoulders and force you to walk) you past her, she steps away. As you walk out to a carriage pulled by some sort of flying horses, you hear a faint, ecstatic shout from in the town hall- "The dragon's gone!" Most of the long ride, the soldiers glower at you.
When you make it to Castell Mac’odíër, you have no time to sightsee and are immediately rushed to your quarters, where you meet a hobgoblin, two half-elves, and an elf. A servant comes in behind you, places a large jug of what seems to be a beer of some sort in the room, and then rushes out.
"Hello, fellow contestant!" comes the voice of one of the half-elves.
DM: Lord of Nessus - A D&D 5e Homebrew Campaign, A Rapidly Rotating Fractal - A D&D 5e Sci-fi Homebrew Campaign
Please use with caution. Batteries not included.
Matthÿse stands in the doorway taking in the luxurious quarters he's been brought to. This is more than he could have imagined. He didn't know what to expect of the contestants around him, but he'll greet them all merrily, as if he's genuinely glad to be here despite the circumstances we're all in:
"Greetings, fellow warriors! I am Matthÿse, and it's a blessing to stand here before you all."
He will greet whoever extends their hand with a firm handshake. And although he stands tall at about 6'8"ft, he almost hunches over to greet everyone at their level with respect. He isn't really sure if these people are his friends or foes, but that doesn't stop him from trying to be cordial.
I find myself surprised by the nature of a few of my fellow competitors. Some of them seem... colder to this than I expected. Perhaps I'm not the only one to see this for the barbarity that it is. As I further contend to this notion, the exclamation of the dragonkin upon his arrival arouses me from my inner thoughts.
I approach him, though do not shake his hand. Respect of that sort comes about only if we both were to survive the first round. Instead, I click my boots together, standing straight, and bow low before him. "Greetings to you, sir. I am Kuuraht." I often forget how deep and gravelly my voice sounds. So often do I find myself reminiscing that I'm far more used to my childhood trilling than my booming baritone. I politely continue, "it seems we may have to kill each other in the near future. If there is any consolation to my words, I apologize for whatever may happen."
I'm certain my eyes, crackling with electric blue light, do nothing to assist in first impressions, but I try to summon a small smile, for the sake of prudence as I straighten up once more.
Matthÿse looks Kuuraht straight in the eyes, unbothered by the crackling of energy or the notion of potentially dying by his hands:
I assure you, sir Kuuraht, I came prepared to emerge victorious or die on the battlefield. However, I am unfamiliar with the rules of these "Games" or the rules that we must follow whilst we are within these quarters.
And Matthÿse will grab whatever the servant left for us to drink and will begin to mutter to himself in a hushed voice for 10 minutes if no one interrupts him.
(OOC: I would like to ritually cast Detect Poison & Disease to make sure there's no foul play within the room)