I couldn't sleep, so now I'm writing. Probably too much. In retrospect, I don't think my first monologue was very private eye-y, especially for a character that actually is a PI. So here's take 2 for Ray "Nyx" Phoebus's Monologue (which is actually a mini-scene, but it features some of that classic noir banter, including a solid paragraph that I think qualifies as a monologue by itself):
The small bell on the top of the door clattered. Finally, a client. The bills were starting to pile up, and they have an annoying tendency not to pay themselves. It'll be a grand day when an inventor finally figures out how to make that happen. I turned around in my chair to face her.
"You're Nyx, right?" "That's what they call me."
(Monologue proper:) I could tell she was the type of girl to act first, and ask questions later. Or, more likely, ask questions never. I quickly took note of the various concealed guns on her person. I counted three. The bulge within the stocking, typical indicator of an ankle holster, was barely visible by the candlelight. Something low caliber, but anything can be deadly if you point it in the right spot. The loose sleeves were out of fashion, and didn't fit with the outfit anyways. I knew some sort of handgun was in there. The last firearm was the easiest to notice. An amateur mistake to let it be so poorly concealed. After all, it's difficult not to notice a double barrel shotgun when it's staring you down like a goose with a vengeance.
"The same Nyx that hid my husband off in the other side of the City? I'll give you a hint. The answer is yes." "Sorry, lady, but I don't know any husbands." "Remember who's holding the gun before acting so coy. His name is Matthews. Passed by here a month or so ago." "Yeah, that name rings a bell. But I don't deal in marital spats. He wasn't running from you, he was running from a creature of Darkness. If I remember correctly, a bansh-"
It dawned on me like a bullet wound dawns on someone full of adrenaline: I had to tell people to stop using hyperboles during business.
"I don't care what he called me, I just want to know where he is. And unless you've ever wondered how it feels to be a sponge, I suggest you tell me." "I'd love to, but it's not my place to tell. Doctor-patient confidentiality. You know how it is." "I'm not messing ar-!"
A pinch of the fingers, and then a twist of the hand. The only candle in the room went out with a grim hiss. Immediately, one of the barrels of the shotgun sent out a flurry of buckshot, but all it found was an empty chair. My good chair, too, but better the chair than me. I saw her, but she didn't see me. I crept around the desk without making so much sound as a pin dropping. It was about 20 seconds of pure silence before she let her guard drop. I took the opportunity to kick the back of her knee, snatching the gun out of the air as she fell prone.
I lit the candle again. The light was coming from just the right angle to let the gildings on the left side of my hat and longcoat glimmer. Just a fraction of how they would shine if they were ever to see the sun. The golden ivy-like pattern on my magnum started at the grip and then curved around the barrel beautifully until it pointed squarely at the woman's head.
Look at what you've done. You spoiled it. You have nobody to blame but yourself. Go sit and think about your actions.
Don't be mean. Rudeness is a vicious cycle, and it has to stop somewhere. Exceptions for things that are funny. Go to the current Competition of the Finest 'Brews! It's a cool place where cool people make cool things.
How I'm posting based on text formatting: Mod Hat Off - Mod Hat Also Off (I'm not a mod)
Name: Vince "Knuckles" Anderson Pronouns: He/him Age: 42
Race: Tabaxi
Class/subclass: Monk/ Way of the Cobalt Soul
Theory: Vince doesn't know exactly what to make of the moths. He's old enough to remember the day they showed up, the terror in people's eyes when they realised the danger they posed. Deep down though he thinks there must have been something they did to deserve it, that maybe the evil and wrongdoings of people (himself included) just built up until it was like a beacon, guiding the moths right to them.
Backstory: Work in progress. Probably grew up with the monks, and eventually became an investigator of sorts for hire. Definitely more of the 'forcing information out of people through whatever means necessary' kinda guy, and will work for whoever pays the most.
Monologue: "There ain't nothin I can't get to the bottom of if the price is right. All it takes it a little pressure, and even the toughest guy will spill the beans. They don't call me Knuckles for nothin. And the more knowledge you can gather about someone, the more power you got over them, that's the way I see it."
"Everyone has a price. Some are priced in money, like a businessman who lost his company. Others are priced in favors, like the men who pick up girls like me in their cars. Doesn't matter to me what the price is, as long as the job gets done. They don't call me "Lust" just cause I'm pretty. No, they call me Lust because that's my chosen weapon."
You also forgot the name, pronouns, age, class, species, theory, and backstory. Just a friendly tip, but you might want to add those if you want to get in.
Look at what you've done. You spoiled it. You have nobody to blame but yourself. Go sit and think about your actions.
Don't be mean. Rudeness is a vicious cycle, and it has to stop somewhere. Exceptions for things that are funny. Go to the current Competition of the Finest 'Brews! It's a cool place where cool people make cool things.
How I'm posting based on text formatting: Mod Hat Off - Mod Hat Also Off (I'm not a mod)
Very interesting setting and theme, I would like to throw my hat in the ring.
Name, pronouns, age: Kellen “Fingers” Turen , he/him, 120 years old
Class/Species: Gnome Artificer (Artillerist)
Theory:
He had a theory, everyone had a theory and he was no exception. He thought they may be a project from the ministry to hunt spellcasters that went out of control, or maybe it was just natural selection and an evolution of the species. He didn’t believe any of that nonsense where they were sent from the gods to punish the city for its sins. But if he really thought about it, he didn’t really care why it happened - just how to end it, if they could.
Backstory:
Kellen has been around long enough to remember a time when light wasn’t dangerous, when the sun still hung in the sky, when a flash of light didn’t draw the moths to feed. His world was turned upside down when the moths ate the sun and drove the world mad. Family and friends were scattered in the darkness and he was still trying to pick up the pieces thirty years later. Already a tinkerer, inventor and craftsman, when the lights went out, he turned his attention to finding out as much as he could about the moths and how to kill them or drive them away. Sometimes he would even lure them in with lights, trying out some of his new inventions and gaining more samples to study. He ran a workshop in the narrows, the dark underbelly of a city in perpetual darkness, where he was known for his gadgets, inventions, and explosives.
Monologue:
Of all the workshops in the narrows, she had to walk into mine. Oh sure, I got my fair share of hard luck stories and hopeless cases. The narrows were full of those. People were always looking for some gadget or another, some help with this job or that one away from the ministry’s prying eyes. I had a reputation. A blackpowder man with all of his fingers was a rarity, and a mark of one that either knew his craft well or was wet behind the ears, and I have been around too long and am too old for the last. I take jobs where I can, and am not above helping out the back alley magicians and underground sorcerers, or pulling a fast one on the ministry if I can. Still, I could tell this dame was trouble with a capital “T”.
Placeholder~! Just saw this, DEF interested in getting in b4 cutpff, bb as soon as I read through and get character ready
======================
Made my character but then realized it was rerolling the numbers everytime I edited, so thought it fairer to just cut-and paste everything else into a new post and add new dice rollers at the top (edit: did that, forgot and edited THAT one once but fortunately it didn't reroll or flag them
Class: Rogue / Taure Tavarii (homebrew subclass specific to wood elves; if can't use, then she'll be a swashbuckler but with a preference for subtlety, elegance and quiet, the kind who will drop down noiselessly from a bough, slip a stiletto elegantly through the precise spot in your ribcage where your heart lies while enveloping your pistol hand in the silken scarf the Taure Tavarii homebrew class would have carried as a traditional weapon [with occasional additions ;> ... _] and then leave a black rose on your body as she slips silently away into the shadows) (I'll edit in the subclass in a spoiler as soon as I finish the post; if you would prefer I can also take that and send it to you in a PM)
Theory: The Moths came because of the ogres. Somehow. I am absolutely convinced of it. An ogre murdered my heartlove and clanmate and extinguished all the light in MY world. I wouldn't put it past them to arrange for THIS too ...
Backstory: Sae Ivui (or Poison Ivy as she now refers to herself among the gaurwaith seryn) was a member of a traditional group of shadow warriors within her clan; she was one of the few wood elves to be close enough to the CIty (on a scouting mission) to make it to safety when the Moths came. But the light of her world had been extinguished long before when her destined mate and shadow stealth partner was killed by an ogre on a mission gone horribly wrong, and that has tended to ... ah ... tinge her views of things just a little ...
If silencers, or the magical equivalent, are available, Sae would use a firearm WITH one, though she might still prefer a silently thrown blade, blowgun needle or hand crossbow bolt.in all but the most brute-force situations; if they are not, she would definitely only use one in a situation of raw confrontation and might view it as a last resort
=================================
Edit: I just noticed the dice results changed when I edited the post: to be fair I'll cut-and-paste all the text but those and make a new post once I get everything down
Monologue: "Don't jaw ta me, i know da world 'n how it goes for a chick like me. I've seen da worst of it 'n I'm still breathin'. Can't say much more than that, but that's more than i can say for them that crossed me. An' when their breath stopped, they heard my whisper tellin' 'em just where they crossed da line for da last and final time. But all they saw, ...
Actually, just remembered I have the Taure Tavarii subclass on here as approved public homebrew, https://www.dndbeyond.com/subclasses/1658794-taure-tavarii I designed it for a slightly different world and will be using it as written in my own PbP thread which anyone is welcome to PM me on this site if interested, I unfortunately don't have Discord or anything like that; and kind of new at the PbP and not sure of etiquette so deepest apologies if I am wrong in mentioning in another DMs thread. Would be glad to make any changes for a version native to this world, or as I say just go with a swashbuckler with a penchant for quiet elegance, just let me iknow
First thing comes to mind is, this homebrew most definitely uses magic, mostly druidic and ranger but with a smattering of other spells useful for the woodland stealth build I originally created in a world where there are no magic restrictions. I'm wondering, if this subclass is ok, if she might be automatically assumed to be under a cloud by the Ministry but perhaps a little feared by them also as a mystery?v Or maybe that's the view of the being-on-the-street?
A few other things I forgot or have polished since:
Class: Rogue / Taure Tavarii (homebrew subclass specific to wood elves; if can't use, then she'll be a swashbuckler but with a preference for subtlety, elegance and quiet, the kind who will drop down noiselessly from a ledge above you you never noticed, slip a stiletto elegantly through the precise spot in your ribcage where your heart lies while enveloping your pistol hand in the silken scarf the Taure Tavarii homebrew class would have carried as a traditional weapon [with occasional additions ;> ... _] and then leave a black rose on your body as she slips silently away into the shadows). A wood elf banished from the woods, she now dances at some of the more secluded clubs, where the shadows are even deeper and an exotic hopper is as much an object of fascination as fear...and one who should be feared perhaps doubly because she fascinates can bide her time and make adjustments from the shadows as she sees fit. Bereft of clan and elders, she now sees herself as an ... adjuster. Others might refer to her as a fixer. She adjusts problems so that they are ... not problems any more. For an acceptable ... mmm... compensation, of course. And it matters to her not a damn, just as the darkness makes absolutely no difference to her in the absolute blackness of whisper and desolation that has swirled in her soul since that day so long and so one split oak gall ago.
His dying whisper. Endlessly repeated, searingly tender as the kiss of lightning that sparks a cleansing conflagration, the sacred quest she has followed since, to bear the flame of her grief and wrath into the gloom where the unchecked growth first begins to fester: the ends of the multiverse as long as any foe lives who bears the faintest hunter's mark (so to speak) of responsibility, ogres first but then beyond them to the evil at their heart of which the Moths are but one more target to be cleansed by the fire of her grief when the time comes, at the end of the multiverse if necessary,. "Naes es'tyriaia ... endrayth ... kib'leht. Maa --- kat ... tre- ...".
"Bring the war to him, love. I will await you at th- ... "
Background: Haunted One
Monologue: "Don't talk to me, i know the world and how it goes for a hopper like me. I've seen the worst of it before the Moths came, I've seen the worst of it since, and I'm still breathin'. Can't say much more than that, but that's more than i can say for the gimlets that was fool enough to cross me. And when their breath stopped, they heard my whisper remindin' them of the exact moment where they crossed the line for the last and final time. But all they ever saw, ...
was just a shadow...
======================================================================== Question. Should we presume that magic ITEMS create light or are otherwise detectable by the Ministry or Moths? Or are "stealth" items possible; and in general what's your policy on 5th level characters starting out with them? And would adamantine / mithral / etc armor and weapons be considered magical?
Theory: We did it to ourselves. Our society wanted more.. more.. more. Never satisfied about anything. Taking everything for granted. At some point it all broke and the moths came. The moths have done more than put us in our place, they have made us the insects.
Backstory: Maggwyn's childhood was great. Normal even. Living amongst others her kind in the metropolis that was before it became the City of darkness. She was a relatively happy tiefling growing up, had a handful of good friends and lived it up. So much that she ended up taking things that didn't belong to her, because.. why shouldn't she? She wanted them more. She became good at becoming a thief. Then the sun was eaten by the moths and her whole demeanor and lookout on life changed. She took it as a personal affront and decided to train in the monk ways, deal with the darkness.. try and thrive as well as she could in the darkness. She lost everyone and everything she knew as her view of what happened was not popular amongst the others, but she didn't care.
Monologue: "This was brought upon us because of the way we lived. The darkness came over us like the worlds eyes closing, and no matter how many times you check those lids for light cracks, they ain't happening. Best we get used to it and move on with our lives. Crime is worse than I've ever seen and the whole adage if you can't beat em, join em? Well shit, that's getting harder and harder to not just roll over like a poodle. True, I'm not ashamed to admit I am a thief, but I sure as hell don't walk around killin' folk. That just ain't right."
Recruitment is closed, PMs have been sent. If you were selected, congratulations! If you weren't, good luck in the future, and for the love of all that is holy learn how to punctuate.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
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So theoretically I could replace my javaline with a sawed off shotgun or a double barrel shotgun?
PM me TOMATO let the games begin
Thomas the train
Our Friend Bob
That is my oh so glorious nickname according to drummer
https://www.dndbeyond.com/forums/off-topic/adohands-kitchen/173323-barbarian-wars
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Or a blunderbuss?
PM me TOMATO let the games begin
Thomas the train
Our Friend Bob
That is my oh so glorious nickname according to drummer
https://www.dndbeyond.com/forums/off-topic/adohands-kitchen/173323-barbarian-wars
Join our ranks
No. That is not a ranged weapon, it is a melee weapon with the thrown property.
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Oh,ok sorry for my stupidity
PM me TOMATO let the games begin
Thomas the train
Our Friend Bob
That is my oh so glorious nickname according to drummer
https://www.dndbeyond.com/forums/off-topic/adohands-kitchen/173323-barbarian-wars
Join our ranks
Are we allowed the gunslinger class
PM me TOMATO let the games begin
Thomas the train
Our Friend Bob
That is my oh so glorious nickname according to drummer
https://www.dndbeyond.com/forums/off-topic/adohands-kitchen/173323-barbarian-wars
Join our ranks
This looks super interesting!
Ability scores: 14 13 13 14 13 10
I couldn't sleep, so now I'm writing. Probably too much. In retrospect, I don't think my first monologue was very private eye-y, especially for a character that actually is a PI. So here's take 2 for Ray "Nyx" Phoebus's Monologue (which is actually a mini-scene, but it features some of that classic noir banter, including a solid paragraph that I think qualifies as a monologue by itself):
The small bell on the top of the door clattered. Finally, a client. The bills were starting to pile up, and they have an annoying tendency not to pay themselves. It'll be a grand day when an inventor finally figures out how to make that happen. I turned around in my chair to face her.
"You're Nyx, right?"
"That's what they call me."
(Monologue proper:) I could tell she was the type of girl to act first, and ask questions later. Or, more likely, ask questions never. I quickly took note of the various concealed guns on her person. I counted three. The bulge within the stocking, typical indicator of an ankle holster, was barely visible by the candlelight. Something low caliber, but anything can be deadly if you point it in the right spot. The loose sleeves were out of fashion, and didn't fit with the outfit anyways. I knew some sort of handgun was in there. The last firearm was the easiest to notice. An amateur mistake to let it be so poorly concealed. After all, it's difficult not to notice a double barrel shotgun when it's staring you down like a goose with a vengeance.
"The same Nyx that hid my husband off in the other side of the City? I'll give you a hint. The answer is yes."
"Sorry, lady, but I don't know any husbands."
"Remember who's holding the gun before acting so coy. His name is Matthews. Passed by here a month or so ago."
"Yeah, that name rings a bell. But I don't deal in marital spats. He wasn't running from you, he was running from a creature of Darkness. If I remember correctly, a bansh-"
It dawned on me like a bullet wound dawns on someone full of adrenaline: I had to tell people to stop using hyperboles during business.
"I don't care what he called me, I just want to know where he is. And unless you've ever wondered how it feels to be a sponge, I suggest you tell me."
"I'd love to, but it's not my place to tell. Doctor-patient confidentiality. You know how it is."
"I'm not messing ar-!"
A pinch of the fingers, and then a twist of the hand. The only candle in the room went out with a grim hiss. Immediately, one of the barrels of the shotgun sent out a flurry of buckshot, but all it found was an empty chair. My good chair, too, but better the chair than me. I saw her, but she didn't see me. I crept around the desk without making so much sound as a pin dropping. It was about 20 seconds of pure silence before she let her guard drop. I took the opportunity to kick the back of her knee, snatching the gun out of the air as she fell prone.
I lit the candle again. The light was coming from just the right angle to let the gildings on the left side of my hat and longcoat glimmer. Just a fraction of how they would shine if they were ever to see the sun. The golden ivy-like pattern on my magnum started at the grip and then curved around the barrel beautifully until it pointed squarely at the woman's head.
"I suppose that's why they call you Nyx."
Look at what you've done. You spoiled it. You have nobody to blame but yourself. Go sit and think about your actions.
Don't be mean. Rudeness is a vicious cycle, and it has to stop somewhere. Exceptions for things that are funny.
Go to the current Competition of the Finest 'Brews! It's a cool place where cool people make cool things.
How I'm posting based on text formatting: Mod Hat Off - Mod Hat Also Off (I'm not a mod)
Name: Vince "Knuckles" Anderson Pronouns: He/him Age: 42
Race: Tabaxi
Class/subclass: Monk/ Way of the Cobalt Soul
Theory: Vince doesn't know exactly what to make of the moths. He's old enough to remember the day they showed up, the terror in people's eyes when they realised the danger they posed. Deep down though he thinks there must have been something they did to deserve it, that maybe the evil and wrongdoings of people (himself included) just built up until it was like a beacon, guiding the moths right to them.
Backstory: Work in progress. Probably grew up with the monks, and eventually became an investigator of sorts for hire. Definitely more of the 'forcing information out of people through whatever means necessary' kinda guy, and will work for whoever pays the most.
Monologue: "There ain't nothin I can't get to the bottom of if the price is right. All it takes it a little pressure, and even the toughest guy will spill the beans. They don't call me Knuckles for nothin. And the more knowledge you can gather about someone, the more power you got over them, that's the way I see it."
https://ddb.ac/characters/101366605/4ABNkm
You also forgot the name, pronouns, age, class, species, theory, and backstory. Just a friendly tip, but you might want to add those if you want to get in.
Look at what you've done. You spoiled it. You have nobody to blame but yourself. Go sit and think about your actions.
Don't be mean. Rudeness is a vicious cycle, and it has to stop somewhere. Exceptions for things that are funny.
Go to the current Competition of the Finest 'Brews! It's a cool place where cool people make cool things.
How I'm posting based on text formatting: Mod Hat Off - Mod Hat Also Off (I'm not a mod)
Bump. I'll be closing tomorrow morning, so get those applications in quick!
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Ability scores: 12 16 5 14 11 14.
.
Very interesting setting and theme, I would like to throw my hat in the ring.
Name, pronouns, age: Kellen “Fingers” Turen , he/him, 120 years old
Class/Species: Gnome Artificer (Artillerist)
Theory:
He had a theory, everyone had a theory and he was no exception. He thought they may be a project from the ministry to hunt spellcasters that went out of control, or maybe it was just natural selection and an evolution of the species. He didn’t believe any of that nonsense where they were sent from the gods to punish the city for its sins. But if he really thought about it, he didn’t really care why it happened - just how to end it, if they could.
Backstory:
Kellen has been around long enough to remember a time when light wasn’t dangerous, when the sun still hung in the sky, when a flash of light didn’t draw the moths to feed. His world was turned upside down when the moths ate the sun and drove the world mad. Family and friends were scattered in the darkness and he was still trying to pick up the pieces thirty years later. Already a tinkerer, inventor and craftsman, when the lights went out, he turned his attention to finding out as much as he could about the moths and how to kill them or drive them away. Sometimes he would even lure them in with lights, trying out some of his new inventions and gaining more samples to study. He ran a workshop in the narrows, the dark underbelly of a city in perpetual darkness, where he was known for his gadgets, inventions, and explosives.
Monologue:
Of all the workshops in the narrows, she had to walk into mine. Oh sure, I got my fair share of hard luck stories and hopeless cases. The narrows were full of those. People were always looking for some gadget or another, some help with this job or that one away from the ministry’s prying eyes. I had a reputation. A blackpowder man with all of his fingers was a rarity, and a mark of one that either knew his craft well or was wet behind the ears, and I have been around too long and am too old for the last. I take jobs where I can, and am not above helping out the back alley magicians and underground sorcerers, or pulling a fast one on the ministry if I can. Still, I could tell this dame was trouble with a capital “T”.
Placeholder~! Just saw this, DEF interested in getting in b4 cutpff, bb as soon as I read through and get character ready
======================
Made my character but then realized it was rerolling the numbers everytime I edited, so thought it fairer to just cut-and paste everything else into a new post and add new dice rollers at the top (edit: did that, forgot and edited THAT one once but fortunately it didn't reroll or flag them
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
Abilities: 13 11 15 11 10 15
Name: Poison "Nightbreeze" Ivy (Sae Ivui Nailo) (she/her;
Race: Wood elf
Class: Rogue / Taure Tavarii (homebrew subclass specific to wood elves; if can't use, then she'll be a swashbuckler but with a preference for subtlety, elegance and quiet, the kind who will drop down noiselessly from a bough, slip a stiletto elegantly through the precise spot in your ribcage where your heart lies while enveloping your pistol hand in the silken scarf the Taure Tavarii homebrew class would have carried as a traditional weapon [with occasional additions ;> ... _] and then leave a black rose on your body as she slips silently away into the shadows) (I'll edit in the subclass in a spoiler as soon as I finish the post; if you would prefer I can also take that and send it to you in a PM)
Theory: The Moths came because of the ogres. Somehow. I am absolutely convinced of it. An ogre murdered my heartlove and clanmate and extinguished all the light in MY world. I wouldn't put it past them to arrange for THIS too ...
Backstory: Sae Ivui (or Poison Ivy as she now refers to herself among the gaurwaith seryn) was a member of a traditional group of shadow warriors within her clan; she was one of the few wood elves to be close enough to the CIty (on a scouting mission) to make it to safety when the Moths came. But the light of her world had been extinguished long before when her destined mate and shadow stealth partner was killed by an ogre on a mission gone horribly wrong, and that has tended to ... ah ... tinge her views of things just a little ...
If silencers, or the magical equivalent, are available, Sae would use a firearm WITH one, though she might still prefer a silently thrown blade, blowgun needle or hand crossbow bolt.in all but the most brute-force situations; if they are not, she would definitely only use one in a situation of raw confrontation and might view it as a last resort
=================================
Edit: I just noticed the dice results changed when I edited the post: to be fair I'll cut-and-paste all the text but those and make a new post once I get everything down
Monologue: "Don't jaw ta me, i know da world 'n how it goes for a chick like me. I've seen da worst of it 'n I'm still breathin'. Can't say much more than that, but that's more than i can say for them that crossed me. An' when their breath stopped, they heard my whisper tellin' 'em just where they crossed da line for da last and final time. But all they saw, ...
was just a shadow...Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
Actually, just remembered I have the Taure Tavarii subclass on here as approved public homebrew, https://www.dndbeyond.com/subclasses/1658794-taure-tavarii I designed it for a slightly different world and will be using it as written in my own PbP thread which anyone is welcome to PM me on this site if interested, I unfortunately don't have Discord or anything like that; and kind of new at the PbP and not sure of etiquette so deepest apologies if I am wrong in mentioning in another DMs thread. Would be glad to make any changes for a version native to this world, or as I say just go with a swashbuckler with a penchant for quiet elegance, just let me iknow
First thing comes to mind is, this homebrew most definitely uses magic, mostly druidic and ranger but with a smattering of other spells useful for the woodland stealth build I originally created in a world where there are no magic restrictions. I'm wondering, if this subclass is ok, if she might be automatically assumed to be under a cloud by the Ministry but perhaps a little feared by them also as a mystery?v Or maybe that's the view of the being-on-the-street?
A few other things I forgot or have polished since:
EDIT:
EDIT:
Name: Poison "Nightbreeze" Ivy (Sae Ivui Nailo) (she/her; 197 years)
Class: Rogue / Taure Tavarii (homebrew subclass specific to wood elves; if can't use, then she'll be a swashbuckler but with a preference for subtlety, elegance and quiet, the kind who will drop down noiselessly from a ledge above you you never noticed, slip a stiletto elegantly through the precise spot in your ribcage where your heart lies while enveloping your pistol hand in the silken scarf the Taure Tavarii homebrew class would have carried as a traditional weapon [with occasional additions ;> ... _] and then leave a black rose on your body as she slips silently away into the shadows). A wood elf banished from the woods, she now dances at some of the more secluded clubs, where the shadows are even deeper and an exotic hopper is as much an object of fascination as fear...and one who should be feared perhaps doubly because she fascinates can bide her time and make adjustments from the shadows as she sees fit. Bereft of clan and elders, she now sees herself as an ... adjuster. Others might refer to her as a fixer. She adjusts problems so that they are ... not problems any more. For an acceptable ... mmm... compensation, of course. And it matters to her not a damn, just as the darkness makes absolutely no difference to her in the absolute blackness of whisper and desolation that has swirled in her soul since that day so long and so one split oak gall ago.
His dying whisper. Endlessly repeated, searingly tender as the kiss of lightning that sparks a cleansing conflagration, the sacred quest she has followed since, to bear the flame of her grief and wrath into the gloom where the unchecked growth first begins to fester: the ends of the multiverse as long as any foe lives who bears the faintest hunter's mark (so to speak) of responsibility, ogres first but then beyond them to the evil at their heart of which the Moths are but one more target to be cleansed by the fire of her grief when the time comes, at the end of the multiverse if necessary,. "Naes es'tyriaia ... endrayth ... kib'leht. Maa --- kat ... tre- ...".
"Bring the war to him, love. I will await you at th- ... "
Background: Haunted One
Monologue: "Don't talk to me, i know the world and how it goes for a hopper like me. I've seen the worst of it before the Moths came, I've seen the worst of it since, and I'm still breathin'. Can't say much more than that, but that's more than i can say for the gimlets that was fool enough to cross me. And when their breath stopped, they heard my whisper remindin' them of the exact moment where they crossed the line for the last and final time. But all they ever saw, ...
was just a shadow...Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
Ability scores: 15 10 14 18 14 14
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