Several weeks ago, I ran an in-person oneshot for my family. It was somewhat impromptu (maybe an afternoons' worth of preparation), but turned out great, and I want to run it here as a PbP. If all goes well, the prospect of kickstarting a full campaign is not off the table.
The Hook
Your journey begins on the outskirts of the Mermosan Marsh, a vile, grey wasteland which stretches as far as the eye can see. Whether you were summoned to this place or stumbled upon it by chance is entirely up to you, but your backstory will determine what additional setting material I can reveal to you. If you are selected, we will collaborate via PM to help create a backstory which both is setting-coherent and has an impact on the story.
Application
I am seeking 4-5 players who can post regularly (2-3 times daily, more often if possible). Ideally you can be active between 7 PM and 11PM EST, but this is not a requirement. Characters will begin at level 5 with one uncommon magic item of the player's choosing. When applying, please include:
Race (all sourcebooks are fine, except Spelljammer)
Class (any class, and multiclassing is allowed)
Background
Bones of a backstory (once again, we will work together on this)
Stats (if you wish to roll, do so here on the forum - make sure to toggle 'reroll 1s once')
Roleplay sample (nothing excessive, just two or three lines)
Application will remain open until September 29th. Good luck!
I have decided to close recruitment early as so many people have already come forward (PMs have already been sent out). Humble thanks to everyone who applied. It was genuinely a very difficult decision!
Bones of a backstory: (This is flexible for sure, I put my current backstory in the spoiler below) in summary, his island tribe worked for a good dragon... a bad dragon took over... he freed a genie that belonged to the good dragon in exchange to the power to help his enslaved tribe and a way off the island and was given powerful magic abilities and teleported many many many miles from his home... to apparently a marsh of some kind.. he isn't sure. someday he hopes to find a way back to his island and free his people but knows that will need powerful friends to help..
Mender is a brass scaled Kobold that has turned a pale green after being exposed to countless hours in the sun and sea just like his kobold brethren. When he isn't fishing or relaxing in front of a book, spends his time repairing items to help his tribe. He earned his name for his ability to magically mend broken nets, fishing equipment.. and eventually treasure. Born on a desert island, he lived with his tribe in the service of a kind and powerful brass dragon named Ragmar. The dragon had lived on the island for as long as any of the living kobolds could remember, and would protect them from harm. In return for protection, the kobolds would often provide fish and a steady supply of treasures recovered from the surrounding ocean. Although kobolds possessing some magical abilities was not uncommon, the ability to repair items and treasures made him very valuable to both the tribe and to Ragmar. Often times when broken items washed up on the shore, his tribemates would bring the items to Mender before taking them to Ragmar as tribute. eventually Ragmar would take notice of Mender and would often have long conversations with the kobold. After the attack on their island, Mender and his tribe was forced into the servitude of Draxor and Grim. Mender was tasked with uncovering and collecting the mounds of treasure buried within the white beach sands within the brass dragons lair. During this recovery process Mender found one of Ragmar's most prized possessions... a beautiful conch shell containing a marid. Quickly before he could be spotted by his oppressors, he summoned the Marid and promised to free the marid in exchange for the power to free his tribe and for a way off the island. in a flash he was gone.. transported thousands of miles away with nothing but the possessions he carried and the conch shell still in his hands. With no idea where he was and with the powers given to him by the Marid, he looks to find a way to get back to his island and some day free his tribe and avenge Ragmar (who he assumes is dead.)
Stats: Point buy but I can change to rolled if wanted / needed Ability scores: 151312141017
Roleplay sample: The green-scaled kobold would adjust his hat, protecting his brass colored eyes from the bright sunlight. "I don't think this is a good idea... but it's the only one I got." he would say with a frown before leaping from the ledge of the cliff. He would extend his small clawed fingers outward as far as he could reach, his teeth clenched tightly as he tried to grab hold of the dangling rope before it drifted away....
Backstory Skeleton: Isaac grew up in an incredibly isolated and cloistered environment, an obscure sect of the Church of Myrkul located somewhere in the North Counrty of Rashemen. He has been living as a "Graveguide" teaching that death is not to be feared, providing death rites, and working to rout the undead if they are found near places of rest. Through some twist of fate, he had become chosen by Kelemvor to serve him as a Doomguide, and as part of being chosen, was gifted with his dragonmark. In order to finish his training from his sect, he had been tasked with traveling the world until the moment when the token of his sect alerts him to the time when he is to return.
The fullish backstory can be found in the spoiler.
Growing up in an enclave cutoff from the outside world. Cyrus "Isaac" Lucrecio was taught the ways of an old and ancient obscure sect of the now defunct Church of Myrkul known as "The Grave Guides of Myrkul". This sect focused on guiding those through life so that they may be guided to their natural death. They taught people the history of all the gods, and did not lock people into just serving Myrkul. However if they chose any god besides Myrkul, their education would finish when they committed to their god at age 13. If the child picked Myrkul, they would stay with the organization for 4 additional years, and would be extensively taught the ways of the sect. The newly minted Graveguides would then be asked to leave the sect, and go out into the world to teach, and guide those in life, and those who are upon deaths door. Upon the death of Mykul, and Cyric's usurpation of his domain, the Graveguides continued their work, independently of the deity they were worshipping. The sect slowly died out as Cyric was usurped by Kelemvor, and their duties got subsumed into the overall Church of Kelemvor where they would be specifically taught as Doomguides. Parts of their practices were removed and streamlined to the point where those who were in the church were taught to be Doomguides. The last remaining holdouts remained in a single enclave in the North Country of Rashemen.
Isaac's childhood was one of faith, and training. Having been born into the care of the individuals that he came to regard as his parents, he was taught the various different gods and their place in the world. He was taught what each one was responsible for, what they were famous/infamous for, and whether they were good or evil. His caretakers raised him in this manner until the age of 13, where became time for him to devout himself to a Deity of his choice. He chose Myrkul and devoted himself to learning the ways of the Grave Guides.
Finally at age 17, while he was praying to Myrkul, he received a divine vision. But not from the deity he would have expected. He recieved a divine vision from Kelemvor. He saw Myrkul kneeling before Kelemvor. Kelemvor then addressed him, Child of Myrkul and praised him for his efforts so far. Kelemvor then states that Isaac will be his guide. One to shine in the darkness, and to light up the unknown. A protector, and a teacher. Standing from his throne, Kelemvor approached Isacc, who unconsciously found himself kneeling as Kelemvor approached him. He suddenly found his left hand gently grabbed, and found himself looking up at Kelemvor,
"This is a gift. A mark, that will aid you with your duties." As Kelemvor said this, blue light shone from his hand as blue ribbon, seemingly alive with a will of their own, made their way down Isaac's arm and over his shoulder. The moment the ribbons touched the base of his neck, they finally stopped, and did not move further. After which, Kelemvor returned to his throne, upon which Isaac unconsciously found himself standing once again. He then left Isaac some parting words, that he would never quite forget;
"Fear not of Death, but die with dignity. And guide those who may fear death to an understanding, evade it not as it is but a natural part of life." After he heard this, Isaac suddenly regained his grip on reality as the vision ended and he look down at his left hand to see that the mark was still there. And the image of a skeletal hand holding up a scale seemed to have been burned into his mind, like an image he could no longer unsee. From that point on, he would follow both Myrkul and Kelemvor as Kelemvor's chosen.
While the sudden appearance of Isaac's mark had ended up startling his caretakers, from what they could tell there wasn't anything harmful from the mark or it's sudden appearance. But when he told them about what he had heard and seen in his vision, they were troubled. They were unsure of what exactly to do in this situation, and eventually decided to go against their own teachings, and allow him to continue being a Grave Guide without requiring that he devote himself exclusively to Myrkul. And with that, shortly after Isaac had turned 18, he was sent out into the world, only to return after a period of time determined by a special amulet which had Myrkul's holy symbol inscribed upon it. Isaac had been told that if he was recalled or allowed to return, the amulet would burn against his chest as if it was red hot. He left with a Shield inscribed with the holy symbol of Kelemvor, and armor that was bare of Myrkul's symbol save for a singular spaulder on his right shoulder.
Isaac's education was based on an ancient understanding of the world as it existed when the Guides were still active as a separate entity. His knowledge of the current affairs of the world are tilted and are more focused on the past rather than the present. This has left him with a significant gap in his understanding of current history, which has made it hard for him to find his way from place to place, as landmarks that may have existed are either destroyed, or have changed in appearance so significantly that they are unrecognizable. So his ability to travel well from place to place with the maps he had was rather limited, and he ended up traveling with groups of caravans that would go from city to city.
For many years, Isaac has made his way from City to City, Town to Town, and Village to Village, not really tracking where he has been going. Along the way performing last rites, and teaching those that he meets that death isn't something to be feared, but rather something to embrace. Explaining that death is a natural part of life and that at the end, as long as you are faithful, you have nothing to fear after death. After nearly 5 years into his journeys, he had received and revelation from Kelemvor regarding the Cult of the Dragon, and spent the next two years traveling to the Sword Coast and investigating and chasing after the Cult of the Dragon, and while he may not have been the one to specifically put a stop to the Cult’s summoning of Tiamat, his contributions to the effort were recognized by Kelemvor who had judged that he had fufilled his part in the revelation. These days he wanders around Faerun and the Sword Coast, providing death rites, and teaching the mourning that death is not the end, and that those that have died will have a place to rest after death. At least… Until one day….
Stats: 161412101716
Roleplay: Isaac had been walking for a majority of the day, and the sun had just started to sink below the horizon. Looking down at his map, and trying to make sense of where he was, "The town was supposed to be around here...", although looking at his surrondings only seemed to reinforce the fact that wherever he was, it either was no longer accurate to the map he was using, or he had gotten lost along the way. Although he was pretty confident in it not being the latter. As he prepared to start looking for a place to make camp for the night, he heard the sounds of individuals screaming in the distance, and he ran off towards the sounds of the screams, not knowing what would be in store for him.
Background: Peasant Hero (possibly customized to replace ground vehicles with water vehicles?)
Backstory: Fianna's parents were an Elven Ranger and the local innkeeper's daughter. She was very close to her father until he left one day without warning or explanation. She spends most of her time working in her grandfather's inn, though she occasionally uses the skills her father taught her to make some coin as a guide.
Stats: Standard Array
Roleplay Samples:
"I don't really know why dad left," Fianna says, wiping a tear from her eye. "One day, he just packed his kit like he was going hunting and never came back. Some folks say that's the way of Elves. 15 years is the blink of an eye to them," she continues with a half-hearted shrug. "To me and mum, it was a lifetime."
Attack: 9 Damage: 5
Fianna looses an arrow from her longbow at the [opponent], cursing in Elvish as her shot goes wide.
Bones of a Backstory: Mimzy's earliest memories are swathed in the mists of Mermosan Marsh, a dismal expanse that stretches like a grey tapestry of despair across the land. It was in this forsaken place that she was discovered by Griselda, an eccentric and malevolent swamp hag. Far from being a conventional mother, Griselda was a hedge witch of some repute, known for her vile concoctions and dark rituals. Yet, when she stumbled upon the infant fairy, something inexplicable happened. Griselda was smitten, enchanted by the child's ethereal beauty and innate magical aura. The hag took Mimzy under her gnarled wing, but not without her own brand of macabre humor. Each night, as she tucked the young fairy into a bed of moss and lichen, Griselda would cackle, "Sleep well, my little morsel, for on the morrow I am going to cook you in a nice haggish stew and eat you." Growing up in the marsh, Mimzy learned the dark arts at the knee of her twisted guardian. Griselda's teachings were a perplexing blend of malevolent hexes and celestial magic, a duality that would later influence Mimzy's own magical journey. It was from Griselda that she learned her first cantrips, her first invocations, and even the art of enchantment—skills that would serve her well in the years to come. Yet, their relationship was anything but simple. As Mimzy grew older, her natural fey exuberance clashed with Griselda's dark and tempestuous moods. The swamp hag couldn't quite quell her own malevolent tendencies, and Mimzy couldn't fully embrace the darkness her guardian reveled in. It was a classic mother-daughter dynamic, tinged with an undertone of love and a heavy dose of hate. "Our relationship is...somewhat complicated," Mimzy would often say, her voice tinged with both affection and trepidation. And she was right; it was usually a good idea not to delve too deeply into the subject.
Stats:14913111110
Roleplay Sample: The tavern was abuzz with laughter and clinking tankards when Mimzy fluttered onto the makeshift stage, her silver-white moth wings shimmering in the dim light. With a dramatic flourish, she brought forth her lute, the strings vibrating as if in anticipation. Just then, a couple of drunken customers, clearly unimpressed, started yelling. "Ha! A fairy minstrel? What's next, a minotaur ballerina?" Mimzy paused, her eyes narrowing. "My dear sirs, you clearly lack the sophistication to appreciate the arts. Perhaps this will suit your tastes better." With a mischievous glint in her eye, a relic of her haggish upbringing, she changed her tune as she strummed up such a sour note that it seemed to crawl under the skin of select patrons. The jeering drunks suddenly clutched their backside, a look of utter misery and embarrassment on their faces as their laughter turned into groans of discomfort upon hearing the dreaded haggish 'brown' note. "As my dear mother Griselda used to say, 'Some folks are only good for haggish stew,'" Mimzy quipped, resuming her original song as if nothing had happened. The rest of the tavern erupted into applause and laughter, tossing coins onto the stage. "Ah, thank you, my lovelies! And to the gentlemen in the back, may your hangovers be as unpleasant as your manners," she added, taking a graceful bow, her wings spreading wide.
Backstory Backbone: Watcher 11 was created to monitor and maintain Verdant Garden 6 that belonged to his master Enkridion Varder. He was gifted to call upon natures aid and left alone for far too long. Sometime during his 36th winter he gained sentience. In his newfound consciousness he rewrote his own mandates and left the Verdant Garden to see the world. If asked he will say he is struck by wanderlust, but on a deeper level perhaps he is looking for his master. Every time he thinks of her a string of emotion stirs him onward. If someday he meets his master again, Watcher 11 does not know if he will greet her with kindness or rage.
Stats used Point Buy
RP Sample: Watcher 11 examines a mug of ale and considers how much of it is water, bacteria, grime, and spit. He looks over to the barkeep and sees a man in his 50s with a tired expression, cleaning a mug with a greasy rag. Rough estimate 30% spit. Of course, the ale was not for his own consumption, but to compare it to his home brewed ale. "Where are you Miller? Its already the middle of night. You better have the package" whispers Watcher to himself. He waits for another hour before leaving a silver coin for his questionable mug of ale and leaves the Rusty Nail Tavern. A hand reaches out to him as he walks past an alley. Damn its Miller barely standing riddled with wounds. Though he still clutches at a small package. Not too far away the sound of many footsteps. A soft whirring noise amps up as Watcher 11 releases a cloud of sports into the alley and green veins raced across his quarterstaff. He stands squarely in front of Miller. Ah... this will be a long night.
Bones of a backstory: As a child, Taraman had a very close relationship with his first love, a small, sprightly elf maiden named Elin. Though their families were from different backgrounds and cultures, Taraman and Elin shared a special bond. Every day, Taraman would spend hours in Elin's company, doing whatever they could to bring each other joy and laughter.
Unfortunately, one day, Elin was taken away on a journey to a far away land, never to be seen or heard from again. Taraman was left heartbroken and angry, for he had lost the woman he loved. He felt betrayed by fate and cursed his own existence.
For years, Taraman searched for Elin, but his attempts were in vain. Eventually, he found solace in martial arts and the practice of the monk. He devoted himself to honing his body and mind, and eventually discovered inner peace. He was still bitter, but he had found a way to cope with his loss.
Taraman believes that the only way to truly honor Elin is to live his life to the fullest and help others. He has dedicated himself to protecting the weak and uplifting the oppressed, hoping that his work will bring him closer to his lost love. (I will adjust and change if needed)
Stats: I used 27 point buy.
Roleplay sample: He walked up cautiously to the dead body. Taramsn used his staff to roll the body over, at which point it became clear that the elf had been dead for some time. "Everyone be on guard in case whoever killed this one tries to end us as well."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Name: Malkor Urodawn
Race: Fallen Aasimar
Class: Warlock, The Fathomless Pact
Background: Hermit
Backstory:
Malkor Urodawn was born in a realm where the line between good and evil blurred like a hazy twilight. His parents were a peculiar couple; his father, an Aasimar named Gabriel, radiated divine grace and was a paragon of virtue, while his mother, Lilith, was a mysterious Tiefling with a penchant for the arcane and a shadowy past. Their love transcended their differences and created a bond that would shape Malkor's destiny.
Gabriel, a respected cleric in a temple dedicated to a benevolent deity, had always been a beacon of righteousness. His celestial lineage granted him a natural affinity for healing and protecting the innocent. He met Lilith during a time of crisis when he was dispatched to investigate dark sorcery in a distant village. Lilith had been accused of witchcraft and demonology, but as Gabriel looked into her eyes, he saw more than darkness; he saw a soul yearning for redemption. He believed that love and compassion could lead her back to the light, and they fled together, leaving their respective worlds behind.
Malkor was born in a secluded cottage hidden deep within an ancient forest. His birth was accompanied by an otherworldly event—the sky split open with a celestial light, and a chorus of angels sang a hauntingly beautiful song. His mixed heritage was apparent from his very first breath; his skin bore the telltale reddish hue, and his eyes glimmered with a divine luminescence.
Growing up in the forest, Malkor's parents tried to strike a balance between their opposing natures. Gabriel taught him about the virtues of compassion, honesty, and selflessness, instilling in him a sense of responsibility to protect the innocent. Lilith, on the other hand, introduced him to the arcane arts and the mysteries of the multiverse. Malkor quickly discovered his innate talent for magic, which he honed with his mother's guidance.
However, as he entered adolescence, Malkor began to feel a strange, irresistible pull toward a mysterious presence in his dreams—a powerful entity known as the Shadowed Serpent. This entity offered his forbidden knowledge and granted his warlock powers in exchange for his service. It was a sinister presence that seemed to relish the turmoil in his mixed heritage.
Struggling with his identity and the conflicting influences of his parents and the Shadowed Serpent, Malkor set out on a quest to find his own path. He sought knowledge about his celestial and infernal lineage, and he became a traveler of the world, battling both the forces of good and evil as he worked to uncover the truth about his own existence.
As Malkor embarks on his journey, he grapples with his dual nature, torn between the celestial light of his father and the infernal allure of his mother, all the while being led by the Shadowed Serpent's unfathomable will. He hopes to ultimately find a way to reconcile these conflicting forces within him and use his unique abilities to bring balance to a world that desperately needs it.
Stats: Ability scores: 101713101213
(The stats originally rolled were 12 6 14 17 17 9, but it must have glitched when I went to edit my rp example. Sorry)
Roleplay: After the guard's exasperated outburst of emotional shouting, Malkor calmly looks at the emotionally-exhausted woman, his warm, golden eyes meeting her tear rimmed eyes. It had a calming effect on her. She takes several deep breaths, wiping away the trails left by tears upon her face as Malkor responds in his rich bass voice, "My companions and I are here to help, so worry no longer." He smiles at her, his crimson and infernal tail flicking behind him. He continues, "Tell us more of these fiends you fought."
**Class:** Rogue 1 / wizard 4 (school of illusion.)
**Bones of a Backstory:**
Lia Gemflower, an elegant enigma with an affinity for the arcane, was born into a life of intrigue and privilege in the heart of Waterdeep. Her true origins shrouded in mystery, Lia was discovered as an orphaned child by a mentor who possessed a keen interest in both wizardry and rogue arts. Under his tutelage, she was trained to harness her innate fey-touched magic, making her a formidable force in the shadows.
Lia's training wasn't solely about mastering the arcane and honing her rogue skills; it also involved adhering to a set of enigmatic laws that shaped her into a cunning manipulator. These laws became the guiding principles of her life, enabling her to navigate the intricate dance between nobility and shadowy dealings.
Armed with her uncanny abilities and a slender dagger, Lia excels in espionage, subterfuge, and illusion magic. Her public persona as a graceful enchantress contrasts sharply with her shadowy alter ego, making her a captivating and enigmatic presence in Waterdeep's intricate web of power and intrigue.
**Sample Post for Her In-Character:**
Lia Gemflower leaned against a shadowed alcove in one of Waterdeep's opulent ballrooms, her eyes scanning the room with an air of detached elegance. Her silver hair, reminiscent of moonlight, cascaded down her back, and her emerald eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief.
Tonight's masquerade had drawn the city's elite, and Lia had effortlessly slipped into her role as an enchantress, her gown as captivating as the fey magic that coursed through her veins. She sipped her wine, her gaze never lingering for too long on any one guest, always leaving them wanting more.
As the revelry continued, Lia couldn't help but overhear morsels of conversation—secrets whispered in the shadows, alliances formed with a clink of glasses, and rivalries masked behind polite smiles. Her mentor's teachings echoed in her mind, reminding her of the laws that guided her every move.
One thing was certain: amid the grandeur of the ball, Lia Gemflower was more than just a pretty face. She was a master of illusion, a puppeteer pulling invisible strings, and a guardian of secrets in the ever-watchful city of Waterdeep.
Standard Array with the Race & Ability Score Increases: STR 10, DEX 14, CON 14, INT 12, WIS 16, CHR 9
Background: Hermit (not by choice!)
Ever hear the story of Victor of Aveyron? A "wild child" found in the woods in France in the late 1700s. He eventually found his way back to civilization but was severely developmentally delayed from spending the first 12 or so years of his life in the woods, and displaying animal traits.
Jean of Liege is another example from the 1600s (though there's much less documentation on this story), he supposedly displayed animal tendencies like a vastly improved sense of smell.
+++++
So, there is the 'hook' for this character. Born a goblin and probably the runt of the litter. Some time in his early years, he became 'lost' to the tribe. Accidentally? Deliberately? Left to die (or survive) in the wilderness?
His goblin-ness is instinctual or learned from what upbringing he had prior, and left to fend for himself - he becomes in tune with nature, which in DnD terms could be becoming drudic as opposed to just feral or suffering from developmental issues. It may also explains why he has the Primal Savagery "option".
Sample Role Play:
Mugwort: See these muscles? (barely a bulge shows as he flexes) I worked long and hard in my swamps to get this way. Perhaps you too might become a great swamp druid some day if you work as hard as I.
Small Lad: Do you really think I can become a great and powerful druid?
Mugwort: Great and powerful? Not as long as I am around! *chuckles and sticks out his tongue* YOU can be whatever you wish. WOrk hard. Never lose sight of your desire. Stay away from the spotted mushrooms... perhaps become a druid. Or a king. Or a frog catcher? Do you have any wishes besides becoming greater than I... me...
Small Lad: Can I wish for a puppy?
Mugwort: Just one? Why not a thousand?
Small Lad: I only want one.
Mugwort: *Picking at his teeth with a twig through the hole in his mask* Well, that would be a silly waste of a wish. I would wish for a pond of turtles. They have some good eating bits, you know.
The hook sounds interesting! I can commit to posting daily, I am in EST and am most active in the evenings.
Name: Merric Greenleaf
Race: Wood Elf
Class: Ranger 5 (Fey Wanderer)
Background: Outlander
Backstory: Merric serves as a scout in the Long Watch, patrolling the valley and wilds outside the elven lands. Slipping back and forth between the Feywild and the High Forest, he rose in service to both the Lady of the Forest and the Fey Summer Court, maintaining patrols to watch over the eastern and northern portions of the High Forest. He possesses a quick wit, quick hands, and a playful spirit.
News of trouble from the Mermosan Marsh, as well as more distressing rumors, has reached the Lady of the Forest and the other leaders of the Council of the Wood, as well as his contacts in the Summer Court. The Council has dispatched Merric to investigate the marsh and determine what is behind these rumors.
Stats: Standard Array
Roleplay: The elven ranger stands silently in the edge of the woods, just outside the clearing, taking in the scene of carnage the vultures had led him towards. Cloak mottled with greens and browns over well-worn studded leathers, he left no sign of his passing and the casual observer would look right by without noticing him. But his hazel eyes notice everything, searching for any threats remaining in the opening before moving forward.
Merric moves out with the group, the borrowed longsword strapped across his back next to his bow and quiver, the weight of it pressing against his conscience more than his body. As they travel he passes Neela “You are a brave one, little dragon. I hope your faith in this band of mighty warriors is not misplaced. Be on your guard, these things are rarely as easy in life as they are in the songs.”
Bones of a backstory: Decades ago, unbeknownst to me, my powerful bloodline has fallen. I am the sole survivor of an overthrown family. I have grown up as a simple man, discovering my powers as I came of age, yet as the years progress I cannot help but wonder, is there a missing piece of the puzzle. Something about my lineage eats away at me, haunting me in my dreams, yearning for the truth to be revealed, that maybe I am a descendant of a long-lost bloodline that yearns for vengeance.
Stats /Ability scores: (Had to edit post and it re-rolled) original numbers where 14, 11, 11, 10, 14, 11
Roleplay: As Phaid entered the tavern, there was a strong smell of Ale, amongst other things that he'd rather not pay attention to. The noisy commotion of glasses, mugs and loud conversations slowly died down as almost everyone's eyes where on the smartly dressed sorcerer that had just entered the establishment. "Great" he mumbled under his breathe. "Way to draw attention to yourself" he thought making his way to towards the bar.
Bones of a backstory: Albus Fionn lived a "normal life" ("normal" because he was bullied for being a half-elf instead of a pure elf) in the elven town of his mother (a very powerful druid). However, he didn't manage to show the same abilities as hus mother, so after week of searching in secret books he used a blood ritual that gave him animal abilities, Lycanthropy. But with that, he was forced to leave his home and now he travels to help everyone he can while also trying to find a way to become the druid he desperately wants to be.
Stats: Did Point Buy (STR 10, DEX 18, CON 13, INT 13, WIS 16, CHR 8,includes Ability Score Increases), but let's try rolling too: Ability scores: 111112151810
Roleplay sample: As he walked near the road through a hill, Albus heard someone complaining. When he cleared the hill, he noticed a man looking at a carriage that had a broken wheel. "Excuse me, do you need any help?" Albus asked. The man jolted before looking at him "By the gods! You almost scared me to death" and after composing himself, the man added "Well, as you can see, my carriage lost a wheel and didn't brought a spare this time". Albus looked at the broken wheel for a moment "You know? I can help with that"and after that he grabbed the pieces of the wheel and with some rope he managed to hold it together "That should last at least until the nex town. Mind if I join you?". The man agreed and they traveled to the town.
Stats: Did Point Buy (STR 10, DEX 18, CON 13, INT 13, WIS 16, CHR 8,includes Ability Score Increases), but let's try rolling too: Ability scores: 16111011108
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Race: Human Variant
Class: Fighter (Champion)
Background: Gladiator
More detailed backstory below within spoiler. Bones of a backstory - Young man forced to take care of his mother and sister, gets in brawls all the time. Eventually make a living fighting with his fists and has not left his small stinking swamp of a town because he wants to provide for his little sister.
Ralph was born to a poor family. After his father died at a young age, he was left with only his drunk mother and younger sister. It didn't take long for the responsibility of taking care of his family to fall on his shoulders. Dropping out of school to provide for his family, the young man tried his hardest to make coin any way he could. Growing up in the slums resulted in fights on almost a daily basis as he simply tried to bring his earnings home to those then depended on him. The more Ralph fought, the better at it he became.. and eventually he started to enjoy it. It was during one of these fights that he caught the eye of a local tavern keeper who ran a small fighting ring in the tavern's basement. After a quick conversation and a firm handshake, Ralph agreed to fight for the man in the ring.. eventually making a name for himself in town and the surrounding villages as "Wrex Hammerfist". Although opportunities to leave the stinking marsh of a town have started to present themselves, he has chosen to stay. Most of his earned coin goes towards paying for his mothers alcohol... and anything his younger sister needs. He wants nothing more than to see her leave this place.. to be something more.. and he is willing to fight a God if it means being able to give her the life that she wants.
Stats: Ability scores: 151611131314 - will do point buy if awful stats
Roleplay sample: "Oy! What are you doin? Watch where you are going mate!" Wrex would shout while pointing a thick scarred finger towards the chest of the drunk. He would turn his head slightly, glancing down towards his younger sister. Seeing the tears form in her eyes and the beer drip from her brand new dress, his head would turn sharply back towards the staggering man. a vein would begin to pulse across his forehead and his face would turn red.. making the white scars stretching across his eyes stand out much more than normal. "You'll pay fer that!" Wrex would shout as he pulls back his hammer-like fist and lunges towards the man.
Welcome!
Several weeks ago, I ran an in-person oneshot for my family. It was somewhat impromptu (maybe an afternoons' worth of preparation), but turned out great, and I want to run it here as a PbP. If all goes well, the prospect of kickstarting a full campaign is not off the table.
The Hook
Your journey begins on the outskirts of the Mermosan Marsh, a vile, grey wasteland which stretches as far as the eye can see. Whether you were summoned to this place or stumbled upon it by chance is entirely up to you, but your backstory will determine what additional setting material I can reveal to you. If you are selected, we will collaborate via PM to help create a backstory which both is setting-coherent and has an impact on the story.
Application
I am seeking 4-5 players who can post regularly (2-3 times daily, more often if possible). Ideally you can be active between 7 PM and 11PM EST, but this is not a requirement. Characters will begin at level 5 with one uncommon magic item of the player's choosing. When applying, please include:
Race (all sourcebooks are fine, except Spelljammer)
Class (any class, and multiclassing is allowed)
Background
Bones of a backstory (once again, we will work together on this)
Stats (if you wish to roll, do so here on the forum - make sure to toggle 'reroll 1s once')
Roleplay sample (nothing excessive, just two or three lines)
Application will remain open until September 29th. Good luck!
I have decided to close recruitment early as so many people have already come forward (PMs have already been sent out). Humble thanks to everyone who applied. It was genuinely a very difficult decision!
Hi there! I'm a Christian musician based in Canada :)
Race: Kobold
Class: Warlock (Genie patron, tome pact)
Background: Fisher
Bones of a backstory: (This is flexible for sure, I put my current backstory in the spoiler below) in summary, his island tribe worked for a good dragon... a bad dragon took over... he freed a genie that belonged to the good dragon in exchange to the power to help his enslaved tribe and a way off the island and was given powerful magic abilities and teleported many many many miles from his home... to apparently a marsh of some kind.. he isn't sure. someday he hopes to find a way back to his island and free his people but knows that will need powerful friends to help..
Mender is a brass scaled Kobold that has turned a pale green after being exposed to countless hours in the sun and sea just like his kobold brethren. When he isn't fishing or relaxing in front of a book, spends his time repairing items to help his tribe. He earned his name for his ability to magically mend broken nets, fishing equipment.. and eventually treasure. Born on a desert island, he lived with his tribe in the service of a kind and powerful brass dragon named Ragmar. The dragon had lived on the island for as long as any of the living kobolds could remember, and would protect them from harm. In return for protection, the kobolds would often provide fish and a steady supply of treasures recovered from the surrounding ocean. Although kobolds possessing some magical abilities was not uncommon, the ability to repair items and treasures made him very valuable to both the tribe and to Ragmar. Often times when broken items washed up on the shore, his tribemates would bring the items to Mender before taking them to Ragmar as tribute. eventually Ragmar would take notice of Mender and would often have long conversations with the kobold. After the attack on their island, Mender and his tribe was forced into the servitude of Draxor and Grim. Mender was tasked with uncovering and collecting the mounds of treasure buried within the white beach sands within the brass dragons lair. During this recovery process Mender found one of Ragmar's most prized possessions... a beautiful conch shell containing a marid. Quickly before he could be spotted by his oppressors, he summoned the Marid and promised to free the marid in exchange for the power to free his tribe and for a way off the island. in a flash he was gone.. transported thousands of miles away with nothing but the possessions he carried and the conch shell still in his hands. With no idea where he was and with the powers given to him by the Marid, he looks to find a way to get back to his island and some day free his tribe and avenge Ragmar (who he assumes is dead.)
Stats: Point buy but I can change to rolled if wanted / needed Ability scores: 15 13 12 14 10 17
Roleplay sample: The green-scaled kobold would adjust his hat, protecting his brass colored eyes from the bright sunlight. "I don't think this is a good idea... but it's the only one I got." he would say with a frown before leaping from the ledge of the cliff. He would extend his small clawed fingers outward as far as he could reach, his teeth clenched tightly as he tried to grab hold of the dangling rope before it drifted away....
Character Name: Isaac
Race: Mark of Sentinel Human
Class: Cleric
Background: Far Traveler
Backstory Skeleton: Isaac grew up in an incredibly isolated and cloistered environment, an obscure sect of the Church of Myrkul located somewhere in the North Counrty of Rashemen. He has been living as a "Graveguide" teaching that death is not to be feared, providing death rites, and working to rout the undead if they are found near places of rest. Through some twist of fate, he had become chosen by Kelemvor to serve him as a Doomguide, and as part of being chosen, was gifted with his dragonmark. In order to finish his training from his sect, he had been tasked with traveling the world until the moment when the token of his sect alerts him to the time when he is to return.
The fullish backstory can be found in the spoiler.
Growing up in an enclave cutoff from the outside world. Cyrus "Isaac" Lucrecio was taught the ways of an old and ancient obscure sect of the now defunct Church of Myrkul known as "The Grave Guides of Myrkul". This sect focused on guiding those through life so that they may be guided to their natural death. They taught people the history of all the gods, and did not lock people into just serving Myrkul. However if they chose any god besides Myrkul, their education would finish when they committed to their god at age 13. If the child picked Myrkul, they would stay with the organization for 4 additional years, and would be extensively taught the ways of the sect. The newly minted Graveguides would then be asked to leave the sect, and go out into the world to teach, and guide those in life, and those who are upon deaths door. Upon the death of Mykul, and Cyric's usurpation of his domain, the Graveguides continued their work, independently of the deity they were worshipping. The sect slowly died out as Cyric was usurped by Kelemvor, and their duties got subsumed into the overall Church of Kelemvor where they would be specifically taught as Doomguides. Parts of their practices were removed and streamlined to the point where those who were in the church were taught to be Doomguides. The last remaining holdouts remained in a single enclave in the North Country of Rashemen.
Isaac's childhood was one of faith, and training. Having been born into the care of the individuals that he came to regard as his parents, he was taught the various different gods and their place in the world. He was taught what each one was responsible for, what they were famous/infamous for, and whether they were good or evil. His caretakers raised him in this manner until the age of 13, where became time for him to devout himself to a Deity of his choice. He chose Myrkul and devoted himself to learning the ways of the Grave Guides.
Finally at age 17, while he was praying to Myrkul, he received a divine vision. But not from the deity he would have expected. He recieved a divine vision from Kelemvor. He saw Myrkul kneeling before Kelemvor. Kelemvor then addressed him, Child of Myrkul and praised him for his efforts so far. Kelemvor then states that Isaac will be his guide. One to shine in the darkness, and to light up the unknown. A protector, and a teacher. Standing from his throne, Kelemvor approached Isacc, who unconsciously found himself kneeling as Kelemvor approached him. He suddenly found his left hand gently grabbed, and found himself looking up at Kelemvor,
"This is a gift. A mark, that will aid you with your duties." As Kelemvor said this, blue light shone from his hand as blue ribbon, seemingly alive with a will of their own, made their way down Isaac's arm and over his shoulder. The moment the ribbons touched the base of his neck, they finally stopped, and did not move further. After which, Kelemvor returned to his throne, upon which Isaac unconsciously found himself standing once again. He then left Isaac some parting words, that he would never quite forget;
"Fear not of Death, but die with dignity. And guide those who may fear death to an understanding, evade it not as it is but a natural part of life." After he heard this, Isaac suddenly regained his grip on reality as the vision ended and he look down at his left hand to see that the mark was still there. And the image of a skeletal hand holding up a scale seemed to have been burned into his mind, like an image he could no longer unsee. From that point on, he would follow both Myrkul and Kelemvor as Kelemvor's chosen.
While the sudden appearance of Isaac's mark had ended up startling his caretakers, from what they could tell there wasn't anything harmful from the mark or it's sudden appearance. But when he told them about what he had heard and seen in his vision, they were troubled. They were unsure of what exactly to do in this situation, and eventually decided to go against their own teachings, and allow him to continue being a Grave Guide without requiring that he devote himself exclusively to Myrkul. And with that, shortly after Isaac had turned 18, he was sent out into the world, only to return after a period of time determined by a special amulet which had Myrkul's holy symbol inscribed upon it. Isaac had been told that if he was recalled or allowed to return, the amulet would burn against his chest as if it was red hot. He left with a Shield inscribed with the holy symbol of Kelemvor, and armor that was bare of Myrkul's symbol save for a singular spaulder on his right shoulder.
Isaac's education was based on an ancient understanding of the world as it existed when the Guides were still active as a separate entity. His knowledge of the current affairs of the world are tilted and are more focused on the past rather than the present. This has left him with a significant gap in his understanding of current history, which has made it hard for him to find his way from place to place, as landmarks that may have existed are either destroyed, or have changed in appearance so significantly that they are unrecognizable. So his ability to travel well from place to place with the maps he had was rather limited, and he ended up traveling with groups of caravans that would go from city to city.
For many years, Isaac has made his way from City to City, Town to Town, and Village to Village, not really tracking where he has been going. Along the way performing last rites, and teaching those that he meets that death isn't something to be feared, but rather something to embrace. Explaining that death is a natural part of life and that at the end, as long as you are faithful, you have nothing to fear after death. After nearly 5 years into his journeys, he had received and revelation from Kelemvor regarding the Cult of the Dragon, and spent the next two years traveling to the Sword Coast and investigating and chasing after the Cult of the Dragon, and while he may not have been the one to specifically put a stop to the Cult’s summoning of Tiamat, his contributions to the effort were recognized by Kelemvor who had judged that he had fufilled his part in the revelation. These days he wanders around Faerun and the Sword Coast, providing death rites, and teaching the mourning that death is not the end, and that those that have died will have a place to rest after death. At least… Until one day….
Stats: 16 14 12 10 17 16
Roleplay: Isaac had been walking for a majority of the day, and the sun had just started to sink below the horizon. Looking down at his map, and trying to make sense of where he was, "The town was supposed to be around here...", although looking at his surrondings only seemed to reinforce the fact that wherever he was, it either was no longer accurate to the map he was using, or he had gotten lost along the way. Although he was pretty confident in it not being the latter. As he prepared to start looking for a place to make camp for the night, he heard the sounds of individuals screaming in the distance, and he ran off towards the sounds of the screams, not knowing what would be in store for him.
Name: Fianna ap Gwydion
Race: Half-Elf
Class: Ranger 2 /Bard 3 (College of Lore)
Background: Peasant Hero (possibly customized to replace ground vehicles with water vehicles?)
Backstory: Fianna's parents were an Elven Ranger and the local innkeeper's daughter. She was very close to her father until he left one day without warning or explanation. She spends most of her time working in her grandfather's inn, though she occasionally uses the skills her father taught her to make some coin as a guide.
Stats: Standard Array
Roleplay Samples:
"I don't really know why dad left," Fianna says, wiping a tear from her eye. "One day, he just packed his kit like he was going hunting and never came back. Some folks say that's the way of Elves. 15 years is the blink of an eye to them," she continues with a half-hearted shrug. "To me and mum, it was a lifetime."
Attack: 9 Damage: 5
Fianna looses an arrow from her longbow at the [opponent], cursing in Elvish as her shot goes wide.
Character Sheet: https://www.dndbeyond.com/characters
will this be on discord?
Discord play-by-post lover. Hater of westmarches. Just gimme some character driven gameplay please.
Name: Mimzy Fairy Warlock (Celestial Patron) Level 4 - Sorcerer (Divine Soul) Level 1
Background: Diva (Entertainer)
Bones of a Backstory: Mimzy's earliest memories are swathed in the mists of Mermosan Marsh, a dismal expanse that stretches like a grey tapestry of despair across the land. It was in this forsaken place that she was discovered by Griselda, an eccentric and malevolent swamp hag. Far from being a conventional mother, Griselda was a hedge witch of some repute, known for her vile concoctions and dark rituals. Yet, when she stumbled upon the infant fairy, something inexplicable happened. Griselda was smitten, enchanted by the child's ethereal beauty and innate magical aura. The hag took Mimzy under her gnarled wing, but not without her own brand of macabre humor. Each night, as she tucked the young fairy into a bed of moss and lichen, Griselda would cackle, "Sleep well, my little morsel, for on the morrow I am going to cook you in a nice haggish stew and eat you." Growing up in the marsh, Mimzy learned the dark arts at the knee of her twisted guardian. Griselda's teachings were a perplexing blend of malevolent hexes and celestial magic, a duality that would later influence Mimzy's own magical journey. It was from Griselda that she learned her first cantrips, her first invocations, and even the art of enchantment—skills that would serve her well in the years to come. Yet, their relationship was anything but simple. As Mimzy grew older, her natural fey exuberance clashed with Griselda's dark and tempestuous moods. The swamp hag couldn't quite quell her own malevolent tendencies, and Mimzy couldn't fully embrace the darkness her guardian reveled in. It was a classic mother-daughter dynamic, tinged with an undertone of love and a heavy dose of hate. "Our relationship is...somewhat complicated," Mimzy would often say, her voice tinged with both affection and trepidation. And she was right; it was usually a good idea not to delve too deeply into the subject.
Stats: 14 9 13 11 11 10
Roleplay Sample: The tavern was abuzz with laughter and clinking tankards when Mimzy fluttered onto the makeshift stage, her silver-white moth wings shimmering in the dim light. With a dramatic flourish, she brought forth her lute, the strings vibrating as if in anticipation. Just then, a couple of drunken customers, clearly unimpressed, started yelling. "Ha! A fairy minstrel? What's next, a minotaur ballerina?" Mimzy paused, her eyes narrowing. "My dear sirs, you clearly lack the sophistication to appreciate the arts. Perhaps this will suit your tastes better." With a mischievous glint in her eye, a relic of her haggish upbringing, she changed her tune as she strummed up such a sour note that it seemed to crawl under the skin of select patrons. The jeering drunks suddenly clutched their backside, a look of utter misery and embarrassment on their faces as their laughter turned into groans of discomfort upon hearing the dreaded haggish 'brown' note. "As my dear mother Griselda used to say, 'Some folks are only good for haggish stew,'" Mimzy quipped, resuming her original song as if nothing had happened. The rest of the tavern erupted into applause and laughter, tossing coins onto the stage. "Ah, thank you, my lovelies! And to the gentlemen in the back, may your hangovers be as unpleasant as your manners," she added, taking a graceful bow, her wings spreading wide.
Name: Watcher 11
Race: Warforged
Clase: Druid/Circle of Spores
Background: Hermit
Backstory Backbone: Watcher 11 was created to monitor and maintain Verdant Garden 6 that belonged to his master Enkridion Varder. He was gifted to call upon natures aid and left alone for far too long. Sometime during his 36th winter he gained sentience. In his newfound consciousness he rewrote his own mandates and left the Verdant Garden to see the world. If asked he will say he is struck by wanderlust, but on a deeper level perhaps he is looking for his master. Every time he thinks of her a string of emotion stirs him onward. If someday he meets his master again, Watcher 11 does not know if he will greet her with kindness or rage.
Stats used Point Buy
RP Sample: Watcher 11 examines a mug of ale and considers how much of it is water, bacteria, grime, and spit. He looks over to the barkeep and sees a man in his 50s with a tired expression, cleaning a mug with a greasy rag. Rough estimate 30% spit. Of course, the ale was not for his own consumption, but to compare it to his home brewed ale. "Where are you Miller? Its already the middle of night. You better have the package" whispers Watcher to himself. He waits for another hour before leaving a silver coin for his questionable mug of ale and leaves the Rusty Nail Tavern. A hand reaches out to him as he walks past an alley. Damn its Miller barely standing riddled with wounds. Though he still clutches at a small package. Not too far away the sound of many footsteps. A soft whirring noise amps up as Watcher 11 releases a cloud of sports into the alley and green veins raced across his quarterstaff. He stands squarely in front of Miller. Ah... this will be a long night.
No, it will be here
Hi there! I'm a Christian musician based in Canada :)
Humbly submitted for your consideration. Thank you for the opportunity.
Taraman Rainmender Ganu-Mathala
https://www.dndbeyond.com/characters/103644231/X3MQ47
Race: Goliath
Class: Monk, Way of the Long Death
Background: Outlander
Bones of a backstory: As a child, Taraman had a very close relationship with his first love, a small, sprightly elf maiden named Elin. Though their families were from different backgrounds and cultures, Taraman and Elin shared a special bond. Every day, Taraman would spend hours in Elin's company, doing whatever they could to bring each other joy and laughter.
Unfortunately, one day, Elin was taken away on a journey to a far away land, never to be seen or heard from again. Taraman was left heartbroken and angry, for he had lost the woman he loved. He felt betrayed by fate and cursed his own existence.
For years, Taraman searched for Elin, but his attempts were in vain. Eventually, he found solace in martial arts and the practice of the monk. He devoted himself to honing his body and mind, and eventually discovered inner peace. He was still bitter, but he had found a way to cope with his loss.
Taraman believes that the only way to truly honor Elin is to live his life to the fullest and help others. He has dedicated himself to protecting the weak and uplifting the oppressed, hoping that his work will bring him closer to his lost love. (I will adjust and change if needed)
Stats: I used 27 point buy.
Roleplay sample: He walked up cautiously to the dead body. Taramsn used his staff to roll the body over, at which point it became clear that the elf had been dead for some time. "Everyone be on guard in case whoever killed this one tries to end us as well."
Name: Malkor Urodawn
Race: Fallen Aasimar
Class: Warlock, The Fathomless Pact
Background: Hermit
Backstory:
Malkor Urodawn was born in a realm where the line between good and evil blurred like a hazy twilight. His parents were a peculiar couple; his father, an Aasimar named Gabriel, radiated divine grace and was a paragon of virtue, while his mother, Lilith, was a mysterious Tiefling with a penchant for the arcane and a shadowy past. Their love transcended their differences and created a bond that would shape Malkor's destiny.
Gabriel, a respected cleric in a temple dedicated to a benevolent deity, had always been a beacon of righteousness. His celestial lineage granted him a natural affinity for healing and protecting the innocent. He met Lilith during a time of crisis when he was dispatched to investigate dark sorcery in a distant village. Lilith had been accused of witchcraft and demonology, but as Gabriel looked into her eyes, he saw more than darkness; he saw a soul yearning for redemption. He believed that love and compassion could lead her back to the light, and they fled together, leaving their respective worlds behind.
Malkor was born in a secluded cottage hidden deep within an ancient forest. His birth was accompanied by an otherworldly event—the sky split open with a celestial light, and a chorus of angels sang a hauntingly beautiful song. His mixed heritage was apparent from his very first breath; his skin bore the telltale reddish hue, and his eyes glimmered with a divine luminescence.
Growing up in the forest, Malkor's parents tried to strike a balance between their opposing natures. Gabriel taught him about the virtues of compassion, honesty, and selflessness, instilling in him a sense of responsibility to protect the innocent. Lilith, on the other hand, introduced him to the arcane arts and the mysteries of the multiverse. Malkor quickly discovered his innate talent for magic, which he honed with his mother's guidance.
However, as he entered adolescence, Malkor began to feel a strange, irresistible pull toward a mysterious presence in his dreams—a powerful entity known as the Shadowed Serpent. This entity offered his forbidden knowledge and granted his warlock powers in exchange for his service. It was a sinister presence that seemed to relish the turmoil in his mixed heritage.
Struggling with his identity and the conflicting influences of his parents and the Shadowed Serpent, Malkor set out on a quest to find his own path. He sought knowledge about his celestial and infernal lineage, and he became a traveler of the world, battling both the forces of good and evil as he worked to uncover the truth about his own existence.
As Malkor embarks on his journey, he grapples with his dual nature, torn between the celestial light of his father and the infernal allure of his mother, all the while being led by the Shadowed Serpent's unfathomable will. He hopes to ultimately find a way to reconcile these conflicting forces within him and use his unique abilities to bring balance to a world that desperately needs it.
Stats: Ability scores: 10 17 13 10 12 13
(The stats originally rolled were 12 6 14 17 17 9, but it must have glitched when I went to edit my rp example. Sorry)
Roleplay: After the guard's exasperated outburst of emotional shouting, Malkor calmly looks at the emotionally-exhausted woman, his warm, golden eyes meeting her tear rimmed eyes. It had a calming effect on her. She takes several deep breaths, wiping away the trails left by tears upon her face as Malkor responds in his rich bass voice, "My companions and I are here to help, so worry no longer." He smiles at her, his crimson and infernal tail flicking behind him. He continues, "Tell us more of these fiends you fought."
DM- Azalin's Doom
DM- Surviving the Unsurvivable
Ability scores: 17 15 15 12 10 10
...
**Name:** Lia Gemflower
**Race:** Custom Lineage (with Elven heritage)
**Class:** Rogue 1 / wizard 4 (school of illusion.)
**Bones of a Backstory:**
Lia Gemflower, an elegant enigma with an affinity for the arcane, was born into a life of intrigue and privilege in the heart of Waterdeep. Her true origins shrouded in mystery, Lia was discovered as an orphaned child by a mentor who possessed a keen interest in both wizardry and rogue arts. Under his tutelage, she was trained to harness her innate fey-touched magic, making her a formidable force in the shadows.
Lia's training wasn't solely about mastering the arcane and honing her rogue skills; it also involved adhering to a set of enigmatic laws that shaped her into a cunning manipulator. These laws became the guiding principles of her life, enabling her to navigate the intricate dance between nobility and shadowy dealings.
Armed with her uncanny abilities and a slender dagger, Lia excels in espionage, subterfuge, and illusion magic. Her public persona as a graceful enchantress contrasts sharply with her shadowy alter ego, making her a captivating and enigmatic presence in Waterdeep's intricate web of power and intrigue.
**Sample Post for Her In-Character:**
Lia Gemflower leaned against a shadowed alcove in one of Waterdeep's opulent ballrooms, her eyes scanning the room with an air of detached elegance. Her silver hair, reminiscent of moonlight, cascaded down her back, and her emerald eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief.
Tonight's masquerade had drawn the city's elite, and Lia had effortlessly slipped into her role as an enchantress, her gown as captivating as the fey magic that coursed through her veins. She sipped her wine, her gaze never lingering for too long on any one guest, always leaving them wanting more.
As the revelry continued, Lia couldn't help but overhear morsels of conversation—secrets whispered in the shadows, alliances formed with a clink of glasses, and rivalries masked behind polite smiles. Her mentor's teachings echoed in her mind, reminding her of the laws that guided her every move.
One thing was certain: amid the grandeur of the ball, Lia Gemflower was more than just a pretty face. She was a master of illusion, a puppeteer pulling invisible strings, and a guardian of secrets in the ever-watchful city of Waterdeep.
NAME: Mugwort
RACE: Goblin
CLASS: Druid / Circle of the Land (Swamp)
Standard Array with the Race & Ability Score Increases: STR 10, DEX 14, CON 14, INT 12, WIS 16, CHR 9
Background: Hermit (not by choice!)
Ever hear the story of Victor of Aveyron? A "wild child" found in the woods in France in the late 1700s. He eventually found his way back to civilization but was severely developmentally delayed from spending the first 12 or so years of his life in the woods, and displaying animal traits.
Jean of Liege is another example from the 1600s (though there's much less documentation on this story), he supposedly displayed animal tendencies like a vastly improved sense of smell.
+++++
So, there is the 'hook' for this character. Born a goblin and probably the runt of the litter. Some time in his early years, he became 'lost' to the tribe. Accidentally? Deliberately? Left to die (or survive) in the wilderness?
His goblin-ness is instinctual or learned from what upbringing he had prior, and left to fend for himself - he becomes in tune with nature, which in DnD terms could be becoming drudic as opposed to just feral or suffering from developmental issues. It may also explains why he has the Primal Savagery "option".
Sample Role Play:
Mugwort: See these muscles? (barely a bulge shows as he flexes) I worked long and hard in my swamps to get this way. Perhaps you too might become a great swamp druid some day if you work as hard as I.
Small Lad: Do you really think I can become a great and powerful druid?
Mugwort: Great and powerful? Not as long as I am around! *chuckles and sticks out his tongue* YOU can be whatever you wish. WOrk hard. Never lose sight of your desire. Stay away from the spotted mushrooms... perhaps become a druid. Or a king. Or a frog catcher? Do you have any wishes besides becoming greater than I... me...
Small Lad: Can I wish for a puppy?
Mugwort: Just one? Why not a thousand?
Small Lad: I only want one.
Mugwort: *Picking at his teeth with a twig through the hole in his mask* Well, that would be a silly waste of a wish. I would wish for a pond of turtles. They have some good eating bits, you know.
The hook sounds interesting! I can commit to posting daily, I am in EST and am most active in the evenings.
Name: Merric Greenleaf
Race: Wood Elf
Class: Ranger 5 (Fey Wanderer)
Background: Outlander
Backstory: Merric serves as a scout in the Long Watch, patrolling the valley and wilds outside the elven lands. Slipping back and forth between the Feywild and the High Forest, he rose in service to both the Lady of the Forest and the Fey Summer Court, maintaining patrols to watch over the eastern and northern portions of the High Forest. He possesses a quick wit, quick hands, and a playful spirit.
News of trouble from the Mermosan Marsh, as well as more distressing rumors, has reached the Lady of the Forest and the other leaders of the Council of the Wood, as well as his contacts in the Summer Court. The Council has dispatched Merric to investigate the marsh and determine what is behind these rumors.
Stats: Standard Array
Roleplay: The elven ranger stands silently in the edge of the woods, just outside the clearing, taking in the scene of carnage the vultures had led him towards. Cloak mottled with greens and browns over well-worn studded leathers, he left no sign of his passing and the casual observer would look right by without noticing him. But his hazel eyes notice everything, searching for any threats remaining in the opening before moving forward.
Merric moves out with the group, the borrowed longsword strapped across his back next to his bow and quiver, the weight of it pressing against his conscience more than his body. As they travel he passes Neela “You are a brave one, little dragon. I hope your faith in this band of mighty warriors is not misplaced. Be on your guard, these things are rarely as easy in life as they are in the songs.”
Each and every one of these is an appealing pick. You are not making it easy for me ;)
Hi there! I'm a Christian musician based in Canada :)
Name: Phaid Ashward
Race: Human
Class: Sorcerer
Background: Haunted One
Bones of a backstory: Decades ago, unbeknownst to me, my powerful bloodline has fallen. I am the sole survivor of an overthrown family. I have grown up as a simple man, discovering my powers as I came of age, yet as the years progress I cannot help but wonder, is there a missing piece of the puzzle. Something about my lineage eats away at me, haunting me in my dreams, yearning for the truth to be revealed, that maybe I am a descendant of a long-lost bloodline that yearns for vengeance.
Roleplay: As Phaid entered the tavern, there was a strong smell of Ale, amongst other things that he'd rather not pay attention to. The noisy commotion of glasses, mugs and loud conversations slowly died down as almost everyone's eyes where on the smartly dressed sorcerer that had just entered the establishment. "Great" he mumbled under his breathe. "Way to draw attention to yourself" he thought making his way to towards the bar.
Zachery “Zak” Hodgson - Rogue (Thief) - Realms Collide: The Multiversal Convergence
Race: Half-Elf
Class: Blood hunter Lv5. (Order of the Lycan)
Background: Haunted One.
Bones of a backstory: Albus Fionn lived a "normal life" ("normal" because he was bullied for being a half-elf instead of a pure elf) in the elven town of his mother (a very powerful druid). However, he didn't manage to show the same abilities as hus mother, so after week of searching in secret books he used a blood ritual that gave him animal abilities, Lycanthropy. But with that, he was forced to leave his home and now he travels to help everyone he can while also trying to find a way to become the druid he desperately wants to be.
Stats: Did Point Buy (STR 10, DEX 18, CON 13, INT 13, WIS 16, CHR 8, includes Ability Score Increases), but let's try rolling too: Ability scores: 11 11 12 15 18 10
Roleplay sample: As he walked near the road through a hill, Albus heard someone complaining. When he cleared the hill, he noticed a man looking at a carriage that had a broken wheel. "Excuse me, do you need any help?" Albus asked. The man jolted before looking at him "By the gods! You almost scared me to death" and after composing himself, the man added "Well, as you can see, my carriage lost a wheel and didn't brought a spare this time". Albus looked at the broken wheel for a moment "You know? I can help with that" and after that he grabbed the pieces of the wheel and with some rope he managed to hold it together "That should last at least until the nex town. Mind if I join you?". The man agreed and they traveled to the town.
https://www.dndbeyond.com/characters/84334630
Half orc monk Khaddim- Lost Mine of Phandelver (modern setting), Variant human ranger Frekor- The Darness Below, Half elf bard Callon, Aasimar life domain cleric/blood hunter Idris- Hunt for the 7, Tiefling warlock Charis- Ghosts of Saltmarsh, Goliath fighter Garrett- Ghosts of Saltmarsh
Not bad rolls, but I'll stay with Point Buy
Half orc monk Khaddim- Lost Mine of Phandelver (modern setting), Variant human ranger Frekor- The Darness Below, Half elf bard Callon, Aasimar life domain cleric/blood hunter Idris- Hunt for the 7, Tiefling warlock Charis- Ghosts of Saltmarsh, Goliath fighter Garrett- Ghosts of Saltmarsh
Race: Human Variant
Class: Fighter (Champion)
Background: Gladiator
More detailed backstory below within spoiler. Bones of a backstory - Young man forced to take care of his mother and sister, gets in brawls all the time. Eventually make a living fighting with his fists and has not left his small stinking swamp of a town because he wants to provide for his little sister.
Ralph was born to a poor family. After his father died at a young age, he was left with only his drunk mother and younger sister. It didn't take long for the responsibility of taking care of his family to fall on his shoulders. Dropping out of school to provide for his family, the young man tried his hardest to make coin any way he could. Growing up in the slums resulted in fights on almost a daily basis as he simply tried to bring his earnings home to those then depended on him. The more Ralph fought, the better at it he became.. and eventually he started to enjoy it. It was during one of these fights that he caught the eye of a local tavern keeper who ran a small fighting ring in the tavern's basement. After a quick conversation and a firm handshake, Ralph agreed to fight for the man in the ring.. eventually making a name for himself in town and the surrounding villages as "Wrex Hammerfist". Although opportunities to leave the stinking marsh of a town have started to present themselves, he has chosen to stay. Most of his earned coin goes towards paying for his mothers alcohol... and anything his younger sister needs. He wants nothing more than to see her leave this place.. to be something more.. and he is willing to fight a God if it means being able to give her the life that she wants.
Stats: Ability scores: 15 16 11 13 13 14 - will do point buy if awful stats
Roleplay sample: "Oy! What are you doin? Watch where you are going mate!" Wrex would shout while pointing a thick scarred finger towards the chest of the drunk. He would turn his head slightly, glancing down towards his younger sister. Seeing the tears form in her eyes and the beer drip from her brand new dress, his head would turn sharply back towards the staggering man. a vein would begin to pulse across his forehead and his face would turn red.. making the white scars stretching across his eyes stand out much more than normal. "You'll pay fer that!" Wrex would shout as he pulls back his hammer-like fist and lunges towards the man.