I know you (Kirby) saw my first character that I posted, but at the top of page six I posted a second one called Malon Olofir. You've said you've chosen me and the others (yippee) but which of the two characters that I posted was the one you had in mind?
I posted the second one as a preference over the one I'd already posted, but I need to know which of these was fitting into the ideal party dynamic so I know who I'm playing.
So stuff happened, and we haven't started the campaign yet, I'll be making the first post in a day or two. However, we lost two players while waiting to start, so if anyone who initially applied still wants in, I'll just accept the first two people that post here.
Traeth of the Forge--or, I suppose, Clert Stonehammer--as he was known back in the old days--was never... the strongest, or the most skilled mountain dwarf. He was born short, even for dwarven standards and was often mocked. His peers would call him a "gnome" or a "halfling"; even his parents were no help. They were worse than the rest of them; constantly cold and disappointed in him for what he could not control.
Clert Stonehammer always hated this treatment, hated his tormentors with his heart. He cried himself to sleep at night, and would have gone insane long ago if it weren't for the one thing that he truly enjoyed. The forge. Despite his puny size and the countless voices around him, he would always be forging something new. A sword, a set of full plate--anything one could possibly dream of, completely unbeknownst to his parents and peers around him.
Eventually, Clert had enough. He ran away. Even with the accompaniment of the forge, he simply couldn't bear the constant abuse he suffered. He even changed his name to Traeth, to formally sever his connection with his old clan. He lived a tough life, but it was infinitely better than he was used to. He borrowed another blacksmith's forge and used it to craft a wide variety of items, each with a special and unique touch and incredible quality. Eventually, he settled down in a small town, scraping by a modest living with a sizeable amount of gold to spare.
Traeth's life continued in this fashion for quite a long time. He would receive a commission every now and then, and he would create some item or whatever was being requested, and reap the rewards. Simple, sustainable, and he loved his profession. One day, however, everything would change. Traeth received a strange commission from an anonymous client. The request was very specific, and required many precious metals. Needless to say, Traeth was intrigued. He threw himself into this work with vigor, and made progress at an astonishing speed, and astonishing precision.
When Traeth had finished his work, the object began to glow a deep red and silver, bathing his forge in light. Traeth felt a powerful force within the symbol, emnating out to him. Although he was initially scared, something compelled him to step forwards towards his creation. He extended his hand, took a deep breath, and touched his work.
Traeth stood in a great hall. It was vast and expansive, the architecture was fine, and it was beautifully adorned with masterful works of crafting. An axe here, a great helm there, and displayed most prominently, a massive throne. It was lit much like his creation, with silver and a deep red, and a splash of yellow now as well. At the end of this hall stood a vast throne, and upon that throne sat a giant dwarf. A hammer lay at his feet, a masterful helm lay upon his head, and he was looking straight at Traeth. Somehow, Traeth knew: this dwarf was a god.
He began to speak. "Hello, Clert Stonehammer--or shall I say, Traeth. I am Moradin, God of the Forge. I have been watching you throughout these years, and I must tell you--your work is quite amazing. Ever since your birth, you have stood out to me. Despite all the pain that you have suffered throughout your life, despite all the suffering you've undergone, your work still stands out as some of the finest in your land, yet is still underappreciated. That ends today, Traeth of the Forge. I offer you my protection, my power, in exchange for your loyalty and devotion. When you pick up your hammer, I pick up mine. This is my offer to you, Traeth."
And so ends the story of Traeth, though it is sure to be continued.
Backstory imported from another campaign that I was turned away from; will adjust for this campaign as necessary.
I know you (Kirby) saw my first character that I posted, but at the top of page six I posted a second one called Malon Olofir. You've said you've chosen me and the others (yippee) but which of the two characters that I posted was the one you had in mind?
I posted the second one as a preference over the one I'd already posted, but I need to know which of these was fitting into the ideal party dynamic so I know who I'm playing.
I'm just too goofy for this 😅
Accepted Malon.
So stuff happened, and we haven't started the campaign yet, I'll be making the first post in a day or two. However, we lost two players while waiting to start, so if anyone who initially applied still wants in, I'll just accept the first two people that post here.
Wait, what?
reserving post here
Please sign here. And don't read the fine print.
Traeth of the Forge--or, I suppose, Clert Stonehammer--as he was known back in the old days--was never... the strongest, or the most skilled mountain dwarf. He was born short, even for dwarven standards and was often mocked. His peers would call him a "gnome" or a "halfling"; even his parents were no help. They were worse than the rest of them; constantly cold and disappointed in him for what he could not control.
Clert Stonehammer always hated this treatment, hated his tormentors with his heart. He cried himself to sleep at night, and would have gone insane long ago if it weren't for the one thing that he truly enjoyed. The forge. Despite his puny size and the countless voices around him, he would always be forging something new. A sword, a set of full plate--anything one could possibly dream of, completely unbeknownst to his parents and peers around him.
Eventually, Clert had enough. He ran away. Even with the accompaniment of the forge, he simply couldn't bear the constant abuse he suffered. He even changed his name to Traeth, to formally sever his connection with his old clan. He lived a tough life, but it was infinitely better than he was used to. He borrowed another blacksmith's forge and used it to craft a wide variety of items, each with a special and unique touch and incredible quality. Eventually, he settled down in a small town, scraping by a modest living with a sizeable amount of gold to spare.
Traeth's life continued in this fashion for quite a long time. He would receive a commission every now and then, and he would create some item or whatever was being requested, and reap the rewards. Simple, sustainable, and he loved his profession. One day, however, everything would change. Traeth received a strange commission from an anonymous client. The request was very specific, and required many precious metals. Needless to say, Traeth was intrigued. He threw himself into this work with vigor, and made progress at an astonishing speed, and astonishing precision.
When Traeth had finished his work, the object began to glow a deep red and silver, bathing his forge in light. Traeth felt a powerful force within the symbol, emnating out to him. Although he was initially scared, something compelled him to step forwards towards his creation. He extended his hand, took a deep breath, and touched his work.
Traeth stood in a great hall. It was vast and expansive, the architecture was fine, and it was beautifully adorned with masterful works of crafting. An axe here, a great helm there, and displayed most prominently, a massive throne. It was lit much like his creation, with silver and a deep red, and a splash of yellow now as well. At the end of this hall stood a vast throne, and upon that throne sat a giant dwarf. A hammer lay at his feet, a masterful helm lay upon his head, and he was looking straight at Traeth. Somehow, Traeth knew: this dwarf was a god.
He began to speak. "Hello, Clert Stonehammer--or shall I say, Traeth. I am Moradin, God of the Forge. I have been watching you throughout these years, and I must tell you--your work is quite amazing. Ever since your birth, you have stood out to me. Despite all the pain that you have suffered throughout your life, despite all the suffering you've undergone, your work still stands out as some of the finest in your land, yet is still underappreciated. That ends today, Traeth of the Forge. I offer you my protection, my power, in exchange for your loyalty and devotion. When you pick up your hammer, I pick up mine. This is my offer to you, Traeth."
And so ends the story of Traeth, though it is sure to be continued.
Backstory imported from another campaign that I was turned away from; will adjust for this campaign as necessary.
Please sign here. And don't read the fine print.
It should be fine. I'll add you back to the group PM.
Ability scores: 6 11 14 9 15 12
Please sign here. And don't read the fine print.
IN. =)
"Sooner or later, your Players are going to smash your railroad into a sandbox."
-Vedexent
"real life is a super high CR."
-OboeLauren
"............anybody got any potatoes? We could drop a potato in each hole an' see which ones get viciously mauled by horrible monsters?"
-Ilyara Thundertale
I'll add you to the PM.