Some say it is the gods who created the world and breathed life into it, crafting an endless ebb and flow of energy that permeates all beings, from the oldest dragon to the newborn child. Others say there is something older yet, a primal force that created the gods themselves...a force that even the most powerful beings in existence fear and respect. Where is this force now, though? Does it truly exist? The only evidence of something older comes from those touched by the beyond, consumed with mad ravings of endless wars fought between great beings, beings who dwell in a plane between planes.
What chance, then, do mortals have if such beings exist, creatures who scare even the gods? What of those who seek to pierce 'The place between planes' and see what lies beyond? What if the beyond is looking back? Most of all...
What of the unfortunate souls who have seen....?
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Game Type : DnD 5E
EXP : Milestone (Though I have ideas for additional little rewards for good RP and especially heroic actions.)
Character creation - 27 point buy, starting at level 4. Maximum HP at first level, rolled every level thereafter. Minimum rolled is your variant middling HP +1 (So, half+1), no rerolls allowed on HP. Races can be literally anything and everything, except for constructs and undead (nothing that does not have skin, scales, fur, etc) or anything else that could be considered 'not alive'.
Backgrounds - VERY minimal. Give me basic idea of what your character MIGHT have done to get to level 4, but nothing too in-depth. Keep it very vague and do not spend too much time on it, as it will be fleshed out during the game itself based on your actions. I do want a good character description, and a good personality profile!
Equipment and starting gold : Nothing! I *DO* want you to list basic equipment that you would LIKE to have, but you will start off with nothing at all. Still, get a basic idea of what you think your character would start off with. Nothing magical. Do roll for mysterious trinkets (Roll here in the thread and I will assign you what you rolled.)
Any other questions, feel free to contact me here and I will answer ASAP.
Rough Memories: Cragworm has flashes of memory where he was a gnome. He remembers doing good deeds, saving villagers, killing goblins, etc. He also has memories of failing an important task or quest where many innocents died - he just isn't sure on any of the details.
Origin idea: Cragworm was always told he was a worthless goblin my his tribe - standard practice for goblins. Eventually he adopted a different identity, that of a gnome hero. Cragworm traveled under this guise for a time. He eventually became confused about his real identity and took the Oaths of a paladin of devotion. He eventaully violated his Oaths (of course) and becaome an Oathbreaker.
Description: Cragworm is about 3'10" tall and weighs 65 lbs. He has grayish-green skin, black hair, and black eyes. He has sharp teeth which he often files flatter. He has long, pointed ears and a large, sharp nose. He is wiry and tough as nails. He self-mutilates when bored. A a result, he is covered in scars and missing notches from his ears. He usually fights wearing leather armor and wielding a nasty barbed whip and shield. He used to disguise as a gnome - when he did so he often fought with a rapier instead of a whip.
Personality: Cragworm is not smart or wise, and he often feels worthless. However, at the same time he possesses a powerful essence and believes himself to be a needed force in the world. He has no sense of humor, and can behave erratically when bored.
Drav belongs to a remote clan of avian cultists who worship the Judge of Death (in whatever form you design for this campaign, otherwise someone like Kelemvor). Since Drav was a hatchling, he dreamt of becoming a Divine Psychopomp - a holy warrior who escorts the dead and dying to judgement. Drav trained and studied as an acolyte before setting out as a mercenary for hire, escorting pilgrims to Death's Shrine. Over many seasons, Drav became an accomplished physician and medic.
Basic Equipment: Healer's kit, scale mail, yklwa and sickle. Bedroll, rations, and alms box.
Background: Xenia was always drawn to old ruins and history, yet because of reading too much until his late 50s, he never really spent time outside. He then decided to become an archeologist to follow his passion. He is always in search for more knowledge, yet due to his age, he first needs to find a way to prolong his lifespan, by means other then becoming an undead.
He is an elderly man in his 60, who just started to live his life fully. He has white hair and a white beard along with brown eyes. He wears wornout clothes, as he doesn't really care for anything but his passion.
Baslc Equipment: Explorers pack, arcane focus Some clothes and some extra ration.
Background: Ketraezz'nyl (Ketra) was sold as a slave to a cult as a young child since she had no value with her bastard status. She escaped two decades in captivity and with no place to go, adapted the skills learned in the cult/to survive the cult to become an assassin for hire (and fun)--stealth, deception, getting the jump on others. She has thrown off all of the religious trappings and beliefs that were forced on her, but retained the education and experience (acolyte background). She has an aggressive sense of vengeance for the years of abuse (though not for the benefit of others), does not trust anyone, and tends to follow her own concept of law (NE). Way more detailed appearance going into character sheet. (https://www.dndbeyond.com/profile/Kira/characters/18946447)
Basic equipment: explorer's pack, half a dozen daggers, rapier, shortbow, black leather armor, thieves tools
Augustus is a snarky/sarcastic, but gets the job done detective (City Watch/Investigator). He has an infallible memory (Keen Mind) and is a polyglot (Linguist). Not that he knows any of this right now... He works for some greater agency hunting entities that require unique solutions. His kit is built around investigative skills and capture/debuff/illusion spells. He typically wears a ratty brown trench coat with clothes that might have been considered "fine" three owners ago. He only wields a wand that he keeps somewhere inside the coat. Though he does have a dagger that might be considered serviceable, he uses it more like a pocket knife. He probably has a smoking habit from the smell of him.
Seraphim a devout cleric of Selûne is a pale skinned, halo-horned tiefling. Bright eyed, and soft-spoken she has been placed into the world with the understanding that she can bring goodness, and light to all. She is mistaken. Perpetually optimistic, and always hopeful - once an idea has taken root in her mind Sarah will stop at nothing to make it a reality. Born and raised as an unknowing outcast and lowlife of the the temple she serves devoutly, she is quick to make friends and has not had the experience of the real world to shake her constant trust in all. Easily fooled, and quick to forgive, she will always see the best in people - to her own detriment.
((Recruiting closed! I only had four slots, so if you did not get a PM, I could not add you! Just noting - Kuastro and Daybreaker, loved your character ideas. If more slots open up in the future (based on how well I can handle four people), you two are 100% in.))
((Do bare with me as I learn the forum functions and all! Also, OOC should be kept in (()) or [[]], and if you need to ask any questions, feel free to include them in OOC or simply PM me and I will respond asap! As I have all the character information I need, will be putting up the first post shortly. At least initially, avoid pushing the story ahead too much on your own - but I very much welcome character-to-character RP and so forth.))
You more stumble than run, the ankle-deep mud squelching wetly around your boots, and more often than not threatening to suck them from your feet with every step. The soft spatter of a light drizzle creates thin rivulets of water that drip downwards along your cheeks or dangle loosely from the tip of your pointed nose, and yet turn to steam before they ever have a chance to drop down and mix into the mud beneath you. Fire rages around you, the heat rolling off in waves and threatening to blister your skin, and yet you continued, continue towards the phantom shapes that are who you swore to protect. You...did swear that, right? It was hard to think, harder than normal, and still something inside of your draws you onwards into the fire, towards the humanoid shapes silhouetted against the writhing flames. This what what heroes did. You...you would save them. You would keep your oath.
"Year thirty-two. Worthless damn goblin. Why does this one show potential to manifest? At first, I hardly took this one seriously. A goblin? Preposterous...and yet as the years have worn on, I find myself amused at the potential here. He was broken long before I found him - a goblin who thinks he is a gnome? Hah.."
Your eyes flutter open in one of your precious few moments of clarity, focusing on a tall, old human with coal-black hair speckled with flecks of white and grey. The short-cropped beard on his face only barely hid the weathered skin that that lay beneath, tanned like old leather and creased with innumerable wrinkles. Despite his obvious age, however, the human had a sort of handsome ruggedness, life in his emerald green eyes and a pep in his step that should have been reserved for those much younger than he. He paced back and forth in front of you speaking as though you were not even there, every word he said scribbled furiously into a book that floated some few inches behind his head.
"...yet perhaps that is the very reason he is suitable. He talks even during his stasis, mumbled words that do not make sense, and yet I know to whom he speaks. It is one of them. He has partially manifested twice now. Amusingly, he shows no sign of insanity that typically accompanies even a partial transformation. I believe my current line of thinking is paying off. It is not physical trauma, but trauma of the mind that triggers the transformations. Worthless though he is, there is...potential. Tomorrow, I will send his soul into the place between. Perhaps I will even be able to get it back. I believe--"
The drone of the man's voice was as good as any sedative, and you felt your mind wandering once more...
"IT"S A GOBLIN!" You swing around, rapier at the ready, to engage the goblin before they caused more chaos. There was nothing there - simply fire. When you turned back around, you find the young half-elf was leveling his pitchfork not at the unseen goblin...but at you. Clearly, he was confused. You were a gnome, not a goblin. It must be the heat affecting his mind. You hold up one hand to calm him, frantically trying to tell him and the two young humans behind him to come with you. Your mouth felt so parched...were you even speaking? There were no words, only sounds, incomprehensible screaming. He made a terrified jab at you, and you effortlessly nudged the pitchfork to the side. Why was there blood? You didn't mean to stab him, did you...? That was not the oath you took. Did you cause the fire? You stare into his stunned face as the life drains from his eyes....
Another moment of clarity...or it feels like it. You are not even sure anymore, what is real, what is a dream. You bounce back and forth between lucidity and something akin to a trance as easily as one might breathe. You can hear HIS voice, but your eyes refuse to open. Something felt..wrong. You felt yourself moving, but...you were not moving. Not intentionally.
"Thirty three years. Four successes today, and I imagine there will be many more in the future. The subject, Goblin #001, has fully manifested for the first time today. I admit, the sight is...amazing. Twisted though it's features are, this is everything I have dreamed. Wings...hahah! At first I had thought all the things beyond were angelic in nature, and yet the others manifested differently. Why is this goblin the one to manifest...this being? Truly the find of a lifetime, and I am not yet done. I will fully bring one though and bind it to my will. It is only a matter of time....oh my, so many more experiments to do. I feel my age catching up to me...though I can fix that. Hm...I believe the prisons will--"
It felt as though your heart stopped, and you once more sink back into the abyss, your mind wandering...
Fire. Fire everywhere. The thick smell of burning flesh and hair. You are covered in blood. You really didn't mean to do this. You started the fire by accident, didn't you? The half-elf boy...accident, yes? It's so hard to think. So much smoke, so much fire. Very hard to think. Very hard to breathe. Oh, you were bleeding too. Huh...look at that. Why was there a human standing over you? Why did they have a sword buried in your chest? Murderer! Killing a gnome in cold blood!
"Foul beast! I hope you burn in the deepest parts of the hells for the carnage you wrought here! Die slowly. Let me watch the life drain from--"
Suddenly, there was no heat. No fire. No blood. It was like the world simply...dematerialized around you, leaving you floating in a cold, black void. The only thing that remained was the human, and even they looked...wrong. Before your eyes, their body started to shift, to change. Their peachy skin took on a light-blue tone, and the once-masculine features distorted into something decidedly feminine. Gleaming, mirror-like metallic armor poured across their body as if it were water, and from their back two white wings sprouted, curling around you and encasing you in a cocoon of feathers. There was warmth now. You could not tell if the feeling inside of you was comfort or pure terror. You find yourself gazing upwards into the cool, pure-blue pupiless eyes, and they stare back into you, right into your very soul.
When she speaks, the voice is simultaneously quiet as a whisper and as booming as the peal of thunder, coming from within you, around you, and penetrating through you "You are like us. We will bring Law to this chaotic world. Order. Perfection. You are like us. You will be like us. The rest will perish. There will be order. Perfection. Perfection. Perfection. You are like us. You are like us...."
A sharp lance of pain shot through your body, setting your nerves afire.
Crack!
The whip fell a second time, but thankfully your body already felt numb and cold, an almost welcoming relief from the sting. You didn't even remember what you did this time. Only that you were being punished. Truly, it could have been anything, Misplaced a book. Misquoted cult scripture. Looked at the wrong person. They always healed you, so there was no scarring, but that did not make the pain any better. Thankfully, times like these were getting fewer and fewer between. You might be a slave, but they were getting used to your presence. You would just bide your time. Eventually, they would slip up. You would escape.
A grim grin on your face, you gazed upwards into the hazy darkness of the hood, focusing on the shifting form within. Why could you not remember what they looked like? Why could you not SEE them?
Just as the shifting image beneath the thick, woolen hood started to materialize into something solid, something familiar, your left arm erupted into pain, a maddening sensation that left you feeling dizzy. Your body convulsed in the bindings, and you drew in a deep breath --
--Of sulfur? Slowly, you opened your eyes, gazing through your bleary vision into the face of your captor. The old human's black hair was frizzled up into a messy mop, giving his otherwise calm demeanor a somewhat crazed appearance. Again, the pain came, and you could do little more than groan in agony, gazing downwards at your arm. It was bound in leather straps and seemed unresponsive, and yet even as you watched, your fingers flexed without any input from you. Your...fingers? They looked strange. Long, sharp claws extended from your fingertips where your fingertails should have been, and the digits themselves were longer and slightly thicker - they looked predatory somehow, like the grasping claws of some sort of vicious beast, and yet still so humanoid.
Again, the pain flared up throughout your arm, and your arm finally responded - clamping down on the metal armrest. The squeal of metal creaking and snapping beneath your grip filled the air, your claws digging into the iron like a hot knife digs into butter.
"Wondrous, simply wondrous. Thirty three years, and finally she manages! A simple manifestation, but a potent one." You weakly gaze back up into the human's eyes, which now are sparkling with a sort of malicious glee, entirely uncaring about your pain - only the excitement of the discovery, the excitement of success. Behind him, you see a floating book with a quill furiously working across the pages, writing down everything he says aloud "Memories seemed to elicit a powerful response in drow subject #083. The prior 82 have died, but this one and the two after her show remarkable stamina and resistance to both madness and simple body failure caused by manifestation. I wonder, can she handle something a little more potent? I believe, tomorrow, we will attempt a full-body manifestation." Your vision once more starts to grow blurry, and your eyes finally shut as the older human gets to his feet. You can hear him pacing back and forth in front of you, you can smell him, you can TASTE him "Subject will perhaps need a modified memory. Trauma. Something dramatic. I believe I have the perfect idea for it. If she expires, I will dump her body and go easier on my remaining drow subjects. Scratch out that last part - is not required. Now then, we--"
Another spark of pain shot up through your arm, and you blacked out, sinking back into the welcoming embrace of unconsciousness.
Your heart hammered in your chest so hard it felt like it might break your ribs, and your lungs wheezed with exertion, drawing in massive mouthfuls of air. Behind you, the...the THING that had been chasing you exhaled a long, low laugh "I will catch you, little one. You will tire. I will not. I will feast upon your still living body." The rasp of scale on scale prompted you to roll forwards, and you felt the swipe of a claw just barely tickle your back. You were lucky. Your luck HAD to hold out.
Your legs pumped for all they were worth. There had to be safety somewhere. A place to hide. A weapon you could turn and fight it with. Allies. SOMETHING. Yet all you could see, stretching into the horizon, were dark trees, their gnarled trunks reaching skywards until they disappeared out of sight. No branches low enough to grab onto, no nooks or crannies in the trunks to crawl into....it was like a nightmare. The crash of a tree being pushed aside sounded behind you, and you pumped your legs ever harder, your lungs burning and your heart pounding.
"He will catch you. You are prey. It does not have to be this way, though." You twitch your head to the side just enough to see the woman who now runs at your shoulder. She looked like an overly-tall human, likely seven or eight feet, dressed in simplistic, leather wraps to cover her modesty. Her lightly-tanned skin glistened with a thin sheen of perspiration, but unlike you, she hardly seemed to be exerting herself, and yet still keeping pace with you. Her strides were so easy, so relaxed, so NATURAL. Yet, as you continued to look at her, her features stared to shift, albeit only barely. Her human ears vanished into the bushy brown hair that cover her head, and wolf-like ears sprouted up from within. Her fingers enlongated, vicious claws extending from her fingertips, and a bushy brown tail sprouted from her backside. She flashed a grin, and you see her mouth filled with sharp, white teeth "You live by your own rules. You want to be strong...but you are still weak. You are prey. I can make you the predator. You need only accept me. You are like us. The weak perish. The strong survive and prosper. You are weak. I can make you strong."
Your forwards momentum suddenly jerked to a halt, and you felt yourself lifted upwards, a laugh bellowing in your ears. A laugh that was soon replaced by a sickening crunch, your legs going numb. You stared down into the strange woman's eyes pleadingly, desperate for aid, but she merely grinned, her voice echoing in your mind "You are prey. I will make you strong. You will be a predator. You are like us. Perfect." Suddenly, darkness. Wetness on all sides. Tightness, squeezing...
You rise out of your dreams, the excited shouting of your captor echoing in your ears "YES! PERFECT! A full manifestation! It requires trauma! Severe trauma! She crossed over, and came back...CHANGED. I believe this one is the one. I will continue my experiments with the other drow, but should they not have similar results, I believe they will need to be disposed of. I merely need a way to control the manifestation now...and control her when she changes. So close. So very close. I must continue my experiments! I wonder - could the others all cross over at the same time...? Note to self : Bring all four together to continue the experiments, I will--"
You sink back into darkness, and the welcome reprieve of sleep...
((Anyone can read them, as long as they are not acted on. Kuastro - I didn't send you a PM, because the slots are full. Loved the idea, but until I determine the workload of 4 people, I cannot accept anymore - why I set the thread to private and not recruiting to start with. It's just two friends of mine, and two of their friends to start. If I end up being able to handle four people fine, I'll open more slots.))
"What do you MEAN you don't remember?! I'd imagine the culprit's appearance is a PRETTY BIG DEAL WHEN YOU SEE THEM FLEEING!" The sergeant had always been a hardass, but this time felt so much more serious. Ergh...why could you not remember? You could barely remember your own name. Were you going insane? Did you have some sort of disease that affected the brain? You gaze upwards into the sergeant's face as he tore you down, your eyes squinted so you could see his features. They were so blurry. The entire room was spinning, the light cast by the single candle hurt your eyes, your ears popped, and you head throbbed with the worst headache of your life.
"You had better remember, or we're going to have to get creative extracting those memories from you. We want everything. Every book you've read, every name you've heard, every--"
It was so hard to listen to him. He just droned on and on and on, so annoyingly. You should remember every little detail...why could you not? Surely there was --
The shock of cold water hitting your face immediately draws you from the depths of your dreams, leaving you gasping and sputtering. Nonetheless, you stick out your parched tongue to catch a few dribbles of the stuff as it coursed down your face and along your lips. Through your water-drenched hair, you gaze upwards into the furious eyes of the wizard, your tormenter. He looked haggard, his normally neatly-kept beard in disarray and his hair, normally neatly combed or tied, hanging over his face in loose strands "No, no, NO!!!" He hissed, getting up from his stool and pushing the cart filled with surgical equipment to the side "Book? BOOK! COME AT ONCE!"
You struggle to lift your head a little more, watching as the book flew off of a nearby counter top scattered with equipment and took up a place behind his head, hovering in place and at the ready to record his thoughts "Human subject #206 is a failure as well. I had high hopes for this one. There is PROMISE there. When around the others, there is a near mind-link response, and yet by himself he exhibits nothing. Why? WHY?! This one will be no use to me. Tomorrow, I will enforce a traumatic experience. It will likely kill him, or at the very least drive him insane, but he is no use to me. Might as well go hard on him and see what it accomplishes. If nothing else, the insight will prove to be invaluable in further experiments. Creda has been complaining of hunger. I will feed this one to him." A pregnant pause brought on a moment of silence, followed by a soft sigh "....Scratch that last part. Irrelevant. Tomorrow, enforce trauma. Observe. Dispose of. His mind is too stubborn, as is his soul, to be of any use to me. Put him back in stasis, he is useless to me right now."
A sharp prick in the side of your neck, and you sink back into an ocean of darkness...
The tentacles felt so slimy against your head, and yet that was hardly your primary concern. It was the beak, similar to that of an octopus, that occupied your every thought. You could FEEL it pressing against your skull, not quite hard enough to penetrate, but hard enough to apply pressure. To tease you with what was to come. The smooth, hissing laugh in your mind made it feel as if your brain would explode...though that might have been a preferable alternative to what was going to happen.
The mindflayer withdrew, stepped backwards away from you, and lightly stroked it's tentacles with one hand, it's bulbous eyes staring at you without a hint of empathy. You could feel it in your mind, sifting through your thoughts, you memories, everything you had ever done...and you could not STOP it "Ahhh, such a brain. A delicacy. I wonder what I can extract from you." The hissing voice in your head felt like a drum inside of your skull, and you felt a thin trickle of warmth dribble downwards from your nose to your upper lip, bringing with it the coppery tasty of your own blood. A nosebleed.
"You know much, I see. You remember everything. Oh, such delicious treats tucked away in this mind of yours. Soon, I will possess it all. I own your mind. I own your body. I own you." You can feel it probing at your mind, a feeling like tiny needles poking around in your brain making your fingers and toes twitch of their own accord. You struggled in futility at your bonds, trying to work your hands free - if only you could cast a spell, you might have a chance to escape and--
--But it was too late. The pinpricks in your mind vanished, and the Mindflayer's facial tentacles waggled in delight "Ohhh, such wonderful presents you've given me...and you've one yet to give. Time to taste that delightful brain of yours..." It stepped forwards once more, roughly grabbing you by the shoulders. However hard you struggle, it never seemed to be enough - one by one, you feel the tentacles wrap themselves around your head, their hold so firm you find yourself unable to move your head so much as an inch. Then came that beak. A little pressure against the top of your head...then more, and more, your entire body twitching in agony as your skull started to crack...
....and then coldness.
"Such a beautiful brain." A distinctly feminine voice whispered directly into your mind,
"Indeed. It should be preserved." Came another far more masculine voice, the sound making your head tingle from your chin to your scalp. You could still feel the mindflayer's beak digging into your skull, but the pain was muted now, far away, and now there was something else. Something that made your head feel lightheaded and dizzy, but in a pleasant way, a sort of fuzziness that worked it's way down your spine. Was this death? No...it didn't FEEL like that...
"You are one that must be preserved. Those who can remember. Those who can keep. The rest are useless. They are not needed. Why have children when they are useless? Can remember nothing. Knowledge is all. Knowledge is paramount. In knowing, we find perfection." The two voices 'speak' in unison inside of your head "You know. You remember. You are perfect. We will free you. You are like us. Perfect. We are one and the same..." Briefly, out of the corner of your eyes, you spot them - two fox-like creatures, though much longer and more slender, one black and one white, floating side-by-side and simply staring at you. Their faces show no emotion at all save for a single twitch of the ears, also in unison - the left on the white, and the right on the black - and little by little, the world around you seems to resume...
CRUNCH!
Time continues just long enough for you to hear the horrific crunch of your own skull, and then...nothingness.
You awaken in a cold sweat, your heart pounding in your chest and your lungs desperately gasping for air. For a brief moment, you flail, yet your arms and legs remain firmly bound to the bed upon which you have laid for who knows how long. Your eyes open wide, drinking in the dingy interior of the room. That vial was once .03 centimters to the left. The old wizard's hair is parted slightly differently today. He did not put on one of the rings he normally does. Your head hurts. You recall your entire life in full, vivid detail, and forget it all every bit as quickly. The room rattles - no, it's not the room. It's your bed.
Through it all, the wizard watches with excitement, veritably bouncing on his stool "Hahaha...HAHAHAH! Perhaps I gave up on you too quickly, my friend. Book! To me! Severe simulated trauma triggered the manifestation in this one as well! I swear I heard...voices before it. Multiple voices. Was there a crossing? It might be prudent to lessen his exposure for a short time...and to cover his eyes." Getting to his feet, the wizard drapes a black hood over your eyes....but that does not make it stop. You play out every detail of the room in your head a dozen times, a hundred, a thousand, so quickly it feels like you might very well overload yourself.
"Something has changed. The eyes, certainly. Best keep them covered lest something...unfortunate happen. Yes. Now, let's see, we should--"
It was too much. Far too much. Your nerves feel fried, your brain like mush. Everything is forgotten once more, and you sink back into the realms of dreams....
Drav, the god who best fits Kelemvor would be Kylixx, the god I made for the game I ran a couple of years ago. I will not post the information during the intro, but the basis - Goddess of death and rebirth, puts souls on a giant scale to be judged against their sins, and either sent to Limbo or placed on the great wheel to be reborn.
Drav
"M-monster...Incubus!" You were not even sure what happened. You were a guide for lost souls, ushering them unto their divine judgement...or, at least, that was your hope. Perhaps you were not ready, but you FELT ready. Yet now, you found yourself staring down at the lifeless body of a soldier, his soul, his very essence simply...vanished. No. Not vanished. It was in you. You'd...absorbed it somehow, entirely by accident. You could FEEL it within you, could feel it being burned by your own soul and greedily devoured. This was wrong! This was not what you meant to do! Yes, your training was not yet complete, but--
Every muscle in your body tensed as you caught a glimpse of...something out of the corner of your eye. A great, black wolf, the skin of it's face peeled back to reveal the bone, muscle, and sinew beneath. Kylixx. The god your clan worshipped. You instinctively turned to look, only to find yourself gazing at a mortally wounded soldier instead, a human man little more than twenty years of age. He lay reclined against one of the many piles of bodies that littered the battlefield, weakly holding a longsword, shorn halfway up the blade, up towards you as if to ward you away. You...swear you could hear his heart beating...and growing steadily slower. His lungs expanding and contracting with every inhale and exhale. You could hear the faint gurgle within. There was no saving him...so it was your task to ease his passing to the afterlife, to soothe him and ensure his soul passed peaceably.
Yet....you found your mouth watering instead. Adrenaline flooded your veins - you could FEEL the soul within you dispersing completely, adding it's energy to your own...and you liked it. It was...addictive. You could have another. This one. One more would not hurt. No! These were not your thoughts! You did not want to do this! Yet, even as you screamed in your own head, you found yourself stepping forwards, hands outstretched to claim what this dying man could not resist giving you. He feebly swung the broken sword at you, but you knocked it to the side without so much as a second thought. One hand went to his throat, the other to the enormous gash in his side.
You...did not want this. Something inside of you did, though. Something that was not you. Something you could not resist.
You dug your hand into the steadily-bleeding wound, earning a sharp, strangled cry from the dying man "Naa...aaggh.....n-no...! A-away...mons...t-AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" His cry reached a fever pitch, his body twitching uselessly beneath you. You could FEEL his heart this close. Slower. Slower. You didn't want to wait. His pain was no concern. You wanted his soul...and you would have it.
The man's cry turned into your own as you jerked awake, arms and legs straining against the leather straps that held you firmly against the cold, metallic bed. Your heart felt as thought it might beat out of your chest, and despite how quickly your lungs drew in massive gasps of air, it felt as though you could not breathe. You could feel the man's pain inside of you, the agony in your side, the terror of death looming above you, and most of all...the firey sensation of your own soul being dragged from your still-living body, devoured bit by bit by the vicious bird-like creature above you.
"Interesting. My experiments proceed apace - this one is certainly an odd one. He is, perhaps, one of the first Psycopomps I have managed to capture. Odd ones, they are. It would be nice to capture a few more, but they tend to stick to their clans, far away from the civilized world. A pity. Hrm...Book, scratch that last part. Not needed." It was like every inch of strength suddenly left your body, and you slumped back against the bed, gazing through bleary eyes at your captor - a human in his late fifties or early sixties, black hair peppered with white and gray. His midnight-blue robe was caked in your own blood, and even as he walked, he lightly tapped some sort of long, tube-like implement against his open palm "My divinations revealed another presence within him, but I do not believe it is a presence I am looking for. I've made attempts to see if it is tied to something physical - no luck thus far. However, during my latest surgery, subject POMP-#001 actually started to manifest. It was not even intentional on my part...but sure enough. I had to sew his skin back shut, as I dare not let such a valuable subject die. This one will be challenging to keep alive. It's almost as if something is trying to draw it away, trying to--"
Whatever else the man said was lost on you, as you sank back into your fevered thoughts.
"YOU HAVE FORSAKEN YOUR DUTY! You WILL pay the price!" Your wings! They took your wings! Oh, they were there...but hard as you flapped, they offered no lift. It was if the air itself refused to even so much as caress your wings. You were...grounded. Why did they do this to you?! Your brethren soared above your head as you scrambled through the thick bramble, always looking for trees to prevent those above from swooping down to get you. It was not your fault! It was...THE OTHER THING. The thing that made you do it! You did not want to! You so desperately wanted it to come out now, to save you from the retribution that was to come...but there was nothing. Nothing but a soft, low laugh that seemed to well up from inside your own head, the voice of the thing delighting in your torment.
You were going to die. Kylixx would judge you...and you would be found wanting. Forsaken oaths, forsaken teachings....the Black Wolf would not let such vile things pass. She had already cut you off from her magic, and her gaze no longer fell upon you. You could feel it in your bones, a sort of coldness where once there had been warmth. Your god was no longer your god. There could be no forgiveness.
A flash of white bone and sickly-yellow tendon. You felt your skin veritably crawl, and that coldness within you deepened into something almost icy. You did not even have to look to see what it was - you'd seen it before. It was one of the black wolves...Kylixx's own. You ran, begging the 'thing' inside of you to show itself. To help you! If you died, it died too! Yet there was still nothing but that cold, emotionless laugh, devoid of humor or mirth. You could not get away, and the 'thing' was not going to help you. For the first time, you felt...alone. Truly alone.
"Awwoooooooooooooooooooo....!"
The ghostly howl of the wolves sent a chill down your spine, and you dared not turn to look behind you. You could hear them. The heavy pounding of massive paws on the ground, the harsh breaths, filled with excitement for the hunt. Above you, even your brethren were silent...they simply followed, wings beating...and watching.
A black shape to your left, as tall as your shoulders. Another to your right. A sudden pain in your back as sharp teeth dug into you, jerking you off of the ground and--
--warmth?
Your bleary vision briefly cleared, the world around you still and silent, as if trapped in time. Before you in the darkness, a pair of yellow eyes, slitted in the middle with thick, black pupils "...Poor lost soul. You sought to guide others, and yet you have no guidance yourself. It is the will that matters. There is death within you. You no longer guide. That is...wrong. I will guide you, my child. I will banish the 'other' inside of you." The creature stepped forwards, allowing you your first glimpse. It looked vaguely human, though hard, black bone crossed it's body at odd angles, eventually culminating in an almost scorpion-like tail that jutted from her backside. Two black horns curved backwards from the side of her head, where surprisingly clean-looking and well-cared for white hair dangled down in loose curls, adding a sense of elegance to the chaos of the chitin that covered her "Today, you die. You are like us, though. You are like us...you will be reborn. I will guide you." As you watched, her face began to...shift. Boned poured outwards into a vicious maw, vaguely canine in appearance and rimmed with sharp, white teeth, each the length of your hand "....Together, we will be perfect."
Time resumed, and the wolves fell upon you with a fury, tearing you apart as your brethren simply...watched.
"AAAAAHHHHHH!!" Again, your own cry of torment roused you from the blackness, and your ears immediately focused on the sound of the voice - the voice you knew so well. The voice of the wizard "Success! It's happened today! Hardly a pleasant sight, but he has crossed AND returned! BOOK! RECORD! POMP-#001 is alive, despite organs exposed to open air. There is no blood, and--"
You could no longer focus on him. You lifted your head, straining against the tether around your neck, only to stop and gawk at what you saw. Your arms were devoid of flesh. You could see...INTO yourself. See the beating of your heart. See...everything. You were dying! You had to be dying! This is not where you belonged! This--
"Wondrous. Simply wondrous. They resonate, a sonorous hum." Kergo Rogaa scribbled a few notes down into his book, exhaling a soft but satisfied sigh "...I grow closer. Subject Goblin#001, POMP#001, Drow#083, Human#206 - all have something. Something that makes them resonate with that other place, something inside of them that I've not yet been able to figure out. Thirty three years, and only now can I finally feel as if the end is in sight. Full manifestations all around. There are others, yes, in various stages. Animals seem to lack that special spark, though I have had some success with them...but nothing like this." Slipping the quill back into it's inkwell, Kergo rose to his feet, ignoring the protesting creak of tendons that had long since started to grow stiff.
Stroking the black-and-gray edges of his goatee, the old wizard took a single pass around the four tables that held his most promising subjects, watching with a bemused expression as they twitched and jerked, fighting some unseen fight within their own heads. Pausing briefly, he leaned over the drow, brows furrowing "Subjects still gain wounds. BOOK!" Without even waiting for the magically animated book to reach his side, he started to speak "Observation : All four subjects seem to gain...wounds, still, if that is truly what they can be called. The skin will split in places, bleed...and then close up, as if they had never even been there. I, myself, witnessed the goblin's hand detach from his arm, only for the hand to regrow before my very eyes! Powerful magic even in this realm - I wonder if this could be harnessed as well? Too early to tell. It matters little - once I control one, or multiple, of those creatures, I will have anything I desire. EVERYTHING I desire. The mysteries of creation magic itself shall yield themselves unto me, and--"
Pursing his lips for a moment, Kergo waved his hand dismissively at the book floating behind him, cleared his throat, then continued "Ah - scratch that last part. Irrelevant. My mind tends to wander more than it should. I believe it is just about time to rid myself of this old body - I feel myself aging far more than I like. Personal Note : Two day intermission to regress my age, and then my experiments can resume. Age has not yet touched them, and so--"
KRAKTHOOOOOOOM!
Tiny bits of stone rained from the roof, prompting Kergo to protectively lift his robe over his head "What in the hells? Book, away, away. To my study." The book closed itself with a snap and floated away, unperturbed by the explosion that had rocked the very foundations of Kergo's estate "Gods themselves be damned. Now what?" Casting a final glance backwards at the four prostrate bodies, he heaved a heavy sigh, gathered up his staff, and strode out of the room, only partially closing the thick, heavy wooden door behind him.
****************
(Kastri'va)
Kastri'va grimaced, clutching the sodden cloth to her side. Well...healing potions had went quicker than she'd expected, and damn that smarted. This whole thing was already swirling the drain, but they'd come this far - no turning back now.
"Told you we should have not ruptured the pens."
Kastri'va ground her teeth together, gazing upwards at the towering dragonborn as he wiped some slick, black substance off of his blade against the ankle of his leggings "Vicious things in there. Was a mistake. Good distraction. Bad for us. Do not know if Heroas or Juki are okay. Outside range of spell. They know what to do. Have serum. Maybe meet later." '
(Droha)
Droha was such a pain in the ass - if it wasn't his disjointed speech, it was his 'oh, you should not have done that' mentality AFTER the fact. Still, there was noone she'd rather have with her, honestly, and despite only working together for five short years, the big oaf had grown on her "I'll be fine, thanks." The big dragonborn only barely upturned the corners of his mouth into the facsimile of a grin, prompting her to exhale a little huff of annoyance "The hell even was that thing? I could have swore it was a human, but then it went all...weird. And why did it stop attacking? Ugh, damnit this hurts. Let's finish what we came here to do and get the hells out of here. How much more serum do we have?"
Droha unslung his pack and dug around in it for a couple of seconds, before calmly saying "..One broken. Thirteen remain. Others have twenty. We...should have brought more. Did not expect so many. Some worse than others. Must be picky with serum. Come back for others later."
Come back for the others...like hell. This whole place was already a nightmare. Saving thirty or so people paid off her debt a thousand times over, and there was not a chance in ANY of the hells that she was ever going to set foot back in this forsaken place again "Come on. Let's see what we can do. Ugh, damn, my si--wait! Droha, look! There is someone here!"
Really it had been entirely by chance - the door had only been partially closed, and she'd managed a single glimpse inside...but that had been enough to spot the evidence of bodies, strapped to tables. Of course, they could very well be DEAD bodies, but..****y one way to find out. Nudging the door open with her boot and giving the entryway itself a quick looking over to see if it was trapped, Kastri'va stepped inside, flanked by the big dragonborn who accompanied her "...Droha, I think these ones are alive! Oh, gods...what the hell did Kergo do to them...? Are you seeing this, Droha?"
"...Unpleasant." The dragonborn said simply, eyes narrowing at the sight before him. Their...bodies were shifting. Changing. Wounds appeared, disappeared, fingers clenched so hard blood seeped from their palms, only for the wound itself to heal back up within an instant "...Do not like these ones. Maybe not...these ones?"
"No, Droha! We gotta save everyone we can, and there's four right here! Serum!" The hair on the back of her neck was tingling something fierce, and SOMETHING was giving her the willies, but...well, they were to save everyone they could. Hopefully these four were not too far gone. As Droha passed over four needles to her, Kastri'va gave the four prostrate forms a good once-over. Goblin, human, some kinda...bird thing and a drow. Briefly, the thought of simply...leaving the drow to her own fate crossed her mind, but she shook her head, forcing the thought out of her mind. Save EVERYONE they could. Not all drow were ********. Probably. Likely. Ergh, it didn't even sound good in her own head.
"You work on the straps, Droha. I'm going to administer the serum and...we'll see what happens, I guess." As her draconic companion set about the task of unstrapping the poor souls from the table, Kastri'va went around to each and jabbed a syringe into their thighs, forcing the plunger down and flooding their veins with the serum....
***************************
Cragworm, Drav, Augustus, Ketra
A sharp pain in your thigh draws you back to the realm of the living, and for the first time in...hours? Days? Years? You feel...clarity. The heavy fog that had so long been clouding your mind slowly but surely starts to dissipate, leaving behind a sort of cold feeling that settled just behind your eyes. Eyes which, even now, struggled to focus - you find yourselves gazing upwards at an enormous male dragonborn, and a far shorter female half-elf "Oh, goodness. They're waking up, Droha." Her hand instinctively strayed to the blade at her side, but with a 'settle down' motion from the big dragonborn, she simply placed her hands on her hips.
"...Yes, intention of Serum. Wake them up. You go now. Find inn. Go into inn. Speak to bartender. Say--"
"GODS DROHA!! SPEAK! USE YOUR WORDS!!! AUUGH! Just...let me handle this! Look, I don't know who any of you people are, and I really don't care. Doesn't matter what you've done or...whatever, noone deserves this. We were hired to save you. To save everyone. I...uh...don't think that's going to happen, but we're getting all we can. You might be a little...uh...paralyzed for a bit, but that's just the effects of the serum. Give it a couple of minutes and it'll wear off, alright? You need to get out of here--"
"Kastri'va. We must go. I hear..something."
Gritting her teeth and flashing a 'shutup' look at the big dragonborn at her side, the half-elf continued, though there was a noticable hurry in her words "Find the Silver Lining. You want to speak to a Nezumi named Kitchchok. Tell him "When it rains, it pours, but every raincloud has a silver lining". It is imperative you do this, or you will end up back in here, and it might be another decade before anyone even thinks of breaking you out. You've gotta get outta here, alright? Kergo is...occupied with a little distraction we made, but there is no telling when he'll be back. We...had to rupture the pens with the failed experiments, so be careful. I do not know where, but I am sure there is a storeroom around here somewhere that--"
"Kastri'va..."
"I HEARD YOU THE FIRST TIME, DROHA! Storeroom where you might be able to get some weapons or something! Kergo has likely stolen weapons and armor and everything else from people." She tilted her head slightly as some unheard sound reached her ears, and she grimaced "...We have to leave. Get outta here. Do whatever it takes. Silver Lining. Kitchchok. Got it? Good. Come on Droha, let's get outta here." In a matter of mere seconds, the half-elf and the dragonborn are gone, leaving you alone and partially paralyzed...with strangers.
No. Not strangers. As the feeling slowly starts to come back to extremities and muscles begin to relax, you look around. You know these people. You are not sure HOW you know them - you certainly do not know their names...do you? Yet they seem...familiar somehow. Familiar in a way that makes your chest feel warm, familiar in a way that makes you feel...safe? You...are sure you trusted these people, and they trusted you. Cragworm. Drab. Ketra. Augustus. You KNEW them. Why, though? You cannot remember. You cannot remember anything save for...Kergo. The experiments. Brief flashes of clarity followed by the dreams, endless dreams. Dreams that even now seemed so far away, so hard to recall...
Little by little, your limbs start to regain their mobility, allowing you to sit up on the metal table. You find yourself in simple clothen undergarments, ragged and threadbare, and yet modesty was hardly the foremost thought in your head. You felt like you were on the verge of starvation, as though you had not eaten anything in weeks, and you were horribly sore. You felt stiff, as if you'd not moved in a lifetime, but with that soreness and stiffness came the acknowledgement of life. You were alive. Alive in a strange place, unprotected, and with no weapons...but you were alive.
As your eyes adjusted to the relative gloom, you find yourself in medium-sized stone room, the thick scent of sulfur and alchemical components wafting from a long table set against the far wall where vials and bags of who-knows-what lay strewn about haphazardly. The doorway is swung open, revealing a dimly illuminated stone hallway beyond, and you are left to your own devices, with only 'friends' who's names you cannot even remember to stand by you. You feel as though you have been through a lot together, and still, the reason why eludes you...
...Perhaps this Nezumi will have the answers you seek. You need only get out of this place, first.
A pair of bright lilac eyes survey the room and the others. Names and familiarity aside, feeling safe doesn't seem possible with all these jumbled dreams and memories and whatever that half-elf was going on about. But she was right about one thing. Ketra feels an urge to disappear into the nearest shadow and break for it alone, but pushes that away. Instead, she slides off the table and on to her feet, hoping they don't give out from underneath her. The voice that comes out of her is light and musical, disjointed from her charcoal skin, black hair, and intense stare. She feels like she can only remember it screaming lately and she startles *herself* for a moment. Had she forgotten what she even sounded like?
"She is right. Getting the hell out of here-whatever or wherever-it is imperative." A hand slides to her hip as of she's reaching for something that isn't there, then she stops, not knowing what. "Up and out. And maybe some gear?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
What lies between - Ketraezz'nyl (Half-Drow Assassin)
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
The grayish-green skinned goblin is emaciated and cross-crossed with scars. He sits up, his black eyes scan the room as his tongue idly explores the tips of his slightly blunted needle-like teeth. His gaze lazily passes over the others present. He sniffs with his long, pointed nose and his eyes settle on the table on the far wall with vials and bags strewn about. His whole body tenses and he flies at the table, smashing vials and snarling like an animal. He then looks back at the others and his demeanor changes. His posture stiffens and his hands uncurl.
"Name Cragworm. Yes, real name for friends. Friends Drav, Ketra, Augustus. Cragworm save you. No worry. Friends safe. Friends follow."Cragworm reaches down and grabs a broken beaker neck, holding it like a shiv. He then moves outside the room, standing in a knife-fighter's pose, watching the hallway. "Come! Safe with Cragworm!"
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
"book..." Augustus sits up slowly mumbling. He rubs at the thick stubble on chin, almost nonchalantly. After a moment the gaunt man slides his legs over the side of the table, his head still hanging with some level of fatigue. "Book." He says more clearly, "Boooook?" He adjusts his voice a little to sound more elderly, more like Kergo. "Book! Book. book. BOOK!" Augustus goes through a range of tones before pausing to see if he garnered a reaction. "Damn, I guess that would have been too convenient."
The thin man pushes off the table and drops to the floor. Immediately he buckles from some minor atrophy in his legs. His bracing hand pressing into a discarded syringe. A mind like his comes to conclusion before realization and his hand absently rubs at a sore spot on his leg. Brushing back some dark unkempt hair, Augustus stands with syringe in hand. Evidence. He categorizes the needle mentally for some reason.
At this point he realizes a the few other people had already been moving about preparing for departure. Shouldn't this have needed more notice? Weren't they potential threats? They didn't feel like threats but they sure looked it.
"Yea, watch the door. Let me find his book! We need....knowledge." Augustus shakes his head a little, unsure if he is fully in control of his faculties yet. "We need to know what he did to us."
Investigation: 12 (Looking for books, tomes, knowledge...He'd also probably look for a bag/satchel to stuff things into and cigarettes/pipe tobacco even if he doesn't realize that he grabs them)
Still holding the used syringe he starts quickly rummaging through the scattered contents of the room.
Zdravotnik remains prone and unmoving. He is clearly adept at faking death. As the party begins to stir, Drav's heavy lidded eyes begin to move more rapidly... almost curiously. Yes. With a few tentative sniffs and clacks, Drav begins to rise. Murmurs and sighs give way to a rattle of harsh consonants. Drav shakes his head furiously and hisses a long refrain. As his dried and scabrous feet touch solid ground for the first time in an eternity, Drav stutters in gasping Common, "It. Is. Real." With small mechanical movements, Drav approaches the group. As he stretches out his hand to touch the nearest body ((Augustus by original roll)), Drav chants a sibilant verse. With the final syllable, Drav extends a tentative claw and touches Augustus on the shoulder, casting Cure Wounds.
((no material component required, but I suppose it's up to Kahmori whether I actually have a spell slot to cast it?))
Some say it is the gods who created the world and breathed life into it, crafting an endless ebb and flow of energy that permeates all beings, from the oldest dragon to the newborn child. Others say there is something older yet, a primal force that created the gods themselves...a force that even the most powerful beings in existence fear and respect. Where is this force now, though? Does it truly exist? The only evidence of something older comes from those touched by the beyond, consumed with mad ravings of endless wars fought between great beings, beings who dwell in a plane between planes.
What chance, then, do mortals have if such beings exist, creatures who scare even the gods? What of those who seek to pierce 'The place between planes' and see what lies beyond? What if the beyond is looking back? Most of all...
What of the unfortunate souls who have seen....?
**********************
Game Type : DnD 5E
EXP : Milestone (Though I have ideas for additional little rewards for good RP and especially heroic actions.)
Character creation - 27 point buy, starting at level 4. Maximum HP at first level, rolled every level thereafter. Minimum rolled is your variant middling HP +1 (So, half+1), no rerolls allowed on HP. Races can be literally anything and everything, except for constructs and undead (nothing that does not have skin, scales, fur, etc) or anything else that could be considered 'not alive'.
Backgrounds - VERY minimal. Give me basic idea of what your character MIGHT have done to get to level 4, but nothing too in-depth. Keep it very vague and do not spend too much time on it, as it will be fleshed out during the game itself based on your actions. I do want a good character description, and a good personality profile!
Equipment and starting gold : Nothing! I *DO* want you to list basic equipment that you would LIKE to have, but you will start off with nothing at all. Still, get a basic idea of what you think your character would start off with. Nothing magical. Do roll for mysterious trinkets (Roll here in the thread and I will assign you what you rolled.)
Any other questions, feel free to contact me here and I will answer ASAP.
hp lvl 2: 10
hp lvl 3: 10
hp lvl 4: 9
Trinket Roll: 91
Rough Memories: Cragworm has flashes of memory where he was a gnome. He remembers doing good deeds, saving villagers, killing goblins, etc. He also has memories of failing an important task or quest where many innocents died - he just isn't sure on any of the details.
Origin idea: Cragworm was always told he was a worthless goblin my his tribe - standard practice for goblins. Eventually he adopted a different identity, that of a gnome hero. Cragworm traveled under this guise for a time. He eventually became confused about his real identity and took the Oaths of a paladin of devotion. He eventaully violated his Oaths (of course) and becaome an Oathbreaker.
character sheet
Description: Cragworm is about 3'10" tall and weighs 65 lbs. He has grayish-green skin, black hair, and black eyes. He has sharp teeth which he often files flatter. He has long, pointed ears and a large, sharp nose. He is wiry and tough as nails. He self-mutilates when bored. A a result, he is covered in scars and missing notches from his ears. He usually fights wearing leather armor and wielding a nasty barbed whip and shield. He used to disguise as a gnome - when he did so he often fought with a rapier instead of a whip.
Personality: Cragworm is not smart or wise, and he often feels worthless. However, at the same time he possesses a powerful essence and believes himself to be a needed force in the world. He has no sense of humor, and can behave erratically when bored.
Zdravotnik aka Drav, psychopomp (DM approved custom race) Cleric, Death Domain
Trinket roll (originally 32)
Drav belongs to a remote clan of avian cultists who worship the Judge of Death (in whatever form you design for this campaign, otherwise someone like Kelemvor). Since Drav was a hatchling, he dreamt of becoming a Divine Psychopomp - a holy warrior who escorts the dead and dying to judgement. Drav trained and studied as an acolyte before setting out as a mercenary for hire, escorting pilgrims to Death's Shrine. Over many seasons, Drav became an accomplished physician and medic.
Basic Equipment: Healer's kit, scale mail, yklwa and sickle. Bedroll, rations, and alms box.
Xenia, human wizard, school of necromany.
Trinket Roll 85
HP 25
Background: Xenia was always drawn to old ruins and history, yet because of reading too much until his late 50s, he never really spent time outside. He then decided to become an archeologist to follow his passion. He is always in search for more knowledge, yet due to his age, he first needs to find a way to prolong his lifespan, by means other then becoming an undead.
He is an elderly man in his 60, who just started to live his life fully. He has white hair and a white beard along with brown eyes. He wears wornout clothes, as he doesn't really care for anything but his passion.
Baslc Equipment: Explorers pack, arcane focus Some clothes and some extra ration.
45
(trinket roll + test post)
Background: Ketraezz'nyl (Ketra) was sold as a slave to a cult as a young child since she had no value with her bastard status. She escaped two decades in captivity and with no place to go, adapted the skills learned in the cult/to survive the cult to become an assassin for hire (and fun)--stealth, deception, getting the jump on others. She has thrown off all of the religious trappings and beliefs that were forced on her, but retained the education and experience (acolyte background). She has an aggressive sense of vengeance for the years of abuse (though not for the benefit of others), does not trust anyone, and tends to follow her own concept of law (NE). Way more detailed appearance going into character sheet. (https://www.dndbeyond.com/profile/Kira/characters/18946447)
Basic equipment: explorer's pack, half a dozen daggers, rapier, shortbow, black leather armor, thieves tools
What lies between - Ketraezz'nyl (Half-Drow Assassin)
Trinket Roll: 1
Augustus is a snarky/sarcastic, but gets the job done detective (City Watch/Investigator). He has an infallible memory (Keen Mind) and is a polyglot (Linguist). Not that he knows any of this right now... He works for some greater agency hunting entities that require unique solutions. His kit is built around investigative skills and capture/debuff/illusion spells. He typically wears a ratty brown trench coat with clothes that might have been considered "fine" three owners ago. He only wields a wand that he keeps somewhere inside the coat. Though he does have a dagger that might be considered serviceable, he uses it more like a pocket knife. He probably has a smoking habit from the smell of him.
Trinket roll: 66
Health: 26
Seraphim a devout cleric of Selûne is a pale skinned, halo-horned tiefling. Bright eyed, and soft-spoken she has been placed into the world with the understanding that she can bring goodness, and light to all. She is mistaken. Perpetually optimistic, and always hopeful - once an idea has taken root in her mind Sarah will stop at nothing to make it a reality. Born and raised as an unknowing outcast and lowlife of the the temple she serves devoutly, she is quick to make friends and has not had the experience of the real world to shake her constant trust in all. Easily fooled, and quick to forgive, she will always see the best in people - to her own detriment.
((Recruiting closed! I only had four slots, so if you did not get a PM, I could not add you! Just noting - Kuastro and Daybreaker, loved your character ideas. If more slots open up in the future (based on how well I can handle four people), you two are 100% in.))
((Do bare with me as I learn the forum functions and all! Also, OOC should be kept in (()) or [[]], and if you need to ask any questions, feel free to include them in OOC or simply PM me and I will respond asap! As I have all the character information I need, will be putting up the first post shortly. At least initially, avoid pushing the story ahead too much on your own - but I very much welcome character-to-character RP and so forth.))
Cragworm
((Shouls we also read those, or don't read at all to not have any spoilers? ))
((Anyone can read them, as long as they are not acted on. Kuastro - I didn't send you a PM, because the slots are full. Loved the idea, but until I determine the workload of 4 people, I cannot accept anymore - why I set the thread to private and not recruiting to start with. It's just two friends of mine, and two of their friends to start. If I end up being able to handle four people fine, I'll open more slots.))
Augustus
Drav, the god who best fits Kelemvor would be Kylixx, the god I made for the game I ran a couple of years ago. I will not post the information during the intro, but the basis - Goddess of death and rebirth, puts souls on a giant scale to be judged against their sins, and either sent to Limbo or placed on the great wheel to be reborn.
A pair of bright lilac eyes survey the room and the others. Names and familiarity aside, feeling safe doesn't seem possible with all these jumbled dreams and memories and whatever that half-elf was going on about. But she was right about one thing. Ketra feels an urge to disappear into the nearest shadow and break for it alone, but pushes that away. Instead, she slides off the table and on to her feet, hoping they don't give out from underneath her. The voice that comes out of her is light and musical, disjointed from her charcoal skin, black hair, and intense stare. She feels like she can only remember it screaming lately and she startles *herself* for a moment. Had she forgotten what she even sounded like?
"She is right. Getting the hell out of here-whatever or wherever-it is imperative." A hand slides to her hip as of she's reaching for something that isn't there, then she stops, not knowing what. "Up and out. And maybe some gear?"
What lies between - Ketraezz'nyl (Half-Drow Assassin)
The grayish-green skinned goblin is emaciated and cross-crossed with scars. He sits up, his black eyes scan the room as his tongue idly explores the tips of his slightly blunted needle-like teeth. His gaze lazily passes over the others present. He sniffs with his long, pointed nose and his eyes settle on the table on the far wall with vials and bags strewn about. His whole body tenses and he flies at the table, smashing vials and snarling like an animal. He then looks back at the others and his demeanor changes. His posture stiffens and his hands uncurl.
"Name Cragworm. Yes, real name for friends. Friends Drav, Ketra, Augustus. Cragworm save you. No worry. Friends safe. Friends follow." Cragworm reaches down and grabs a broken beaker neck, holding it like a shiv. He then moves outside the room, standing in a knife-fighter's pose, watching the hallway. "Come! Safe with Cragworm!"
(Perception if needed: 4)
"book..." Augustus sits up slowly mumbling. He rubs at the thick stubble on chin, almost nonchalantly. After a moment the gaunt man slides his legs over the side of the table, his head still hanging with some level of fatigue. "Book." He says more clearly, "Boooook?" He adjusts his voice a little to sound more elderly, more like Kergo. "Book! Book. book. BOOK!" Augustus goes through a range of tones before pausing to see if he garnered a reaction. "Damn, I guess that would have been too convenient."
The thin man pushes off the table and drops to the floor. Immediately he buckles from some minor atrophy in his legs. His bracing hand pressing into a discarded syringe. A mind like his comes to conclusion before realization and his hand absently rubs at a sore spot on his leg. Brushing back some dark unkempt hair, Augustus stands with syringe in hand. Evidence. He categorizes the needle mentally for some reason.
At this point he realizes a the few other people had already been moving about preparing for departure. Shouldn't this have needed more notice? Weren't they potential threats? They didn't feel like threats but they sure looked it.
"Yea, watch the door. Let me find his book! We need....knowledge." Augustus shakes his head a little, unsure if he is fully in control of his faculties yet. "We need to know what he did to us."
Investigation: 12 (Looking for books, tomes, knowledge...He'd also probably look for a bag/satchel to stuff things into and cigarettes/pipe tobacco even if he doesn't realize that he grabs them)
Still holding the used syringe he starts quickly rummaging through the scattered contents of the room.
(Detective Graves)
Zdravotnik remains prone and unmoving. He is clearly adept at faking death. As the party begins to stir, Drav's heavy lidded eyes begin to move more rapidly... almost curiously. Yes. With a few tentative sniffs and clacks, Drav begins to rise. Murmurs and sighs give way to a rattle of harsh consonants. Drav shakes his head furiously and hisses a long refrain. As his dried and scabrous feet touch solid ground for the first time in an eternity, Drav stutters in gasping Common, "It. Is. Real." With small mechanical movements, Drav approaches the group. As he stretches out his hand to touch the nearest body ((Augustus by original roll)), Drav chants a sibilant verse. With the final syllable, Drav extends a tentative claw and touches Augustus on the shoulder, casting Cure Wounds.
((no material component required, but I suppose it's up to Kahmori whether I actually have a spell slot to cast it?))