We have a Divine soul sorcerer, a fighter, and a rogue. Looking for good role players. The mix of the three pillars is up to you and how you approach situations.
The characters are at level 2
I am not a storyteller, I am a referee. There is no pre-designed railroad published adventure. I see no reason not to steal from them all. Do note however, that does not mean the world is static. There is no troll in a locked room just waiting for the ‘adventurer’ to enter; the world moves on. The caravans cross the great stretches of hinterlands in search of a better trade elsewhere, the commoner continues to toil. Dragons scheme, cults plot, the Nobility will always squabble.
The question is…Where do you fit in?
Your tale begins in Neverwinter, or rather just outside it, in the small town of Abiershire. A gateway village of caravan stops, rogues, ruffians and desperate folk. The true citizenry may only number a few hundred, mostly farmers, loggers and help-hands but there are more than a few talented craftsmen within its walls. During the trade season the population explodes adding many more mouths, and fists to the ambience.
Posting daily is required, no more than three posts a day
Posts should have action, describe what you are doing, I need something to adjudicate. Also include communication, this can be internal dialogue, thoughts, feelings; or it can be verbal (external) dialogue to another player or NPC.
All base rules of D&D 5e will be used, no optional rule from the DMG. Milestone leveling. I do not ‘Balance’ encounters, you do. If you start a fight you can not win, be prepared to run or die. The environment is alive, it can be of use or used against you to tip the scale. Be Creative.
I have no books to share, you are responsible for your own character. All Official material is welcome. I will require images, screenshots or other visual aids of your character upon request. Otherwise if you are using pen and paper, with real dice, the die-roller in the forum or any other method; I ask…Be Honest, roll and stick to the roll, I don't fudge and neither should you. Don't be too focused on the ‘Character sheet’, your character is more than a skill and a statistic, use creativity to overcome challenges.
We will start at level one (1)
If you are interested; Please send a DM, any experience with D&D welcome, in any context.
Include Name, race, class, and a short backstory
You will receive an invite--The first post will be an introduction of yourself, give enough detail to include potential hooks. How you ended up in Abiershire, why you came. Your second post will include a description of how you are connected to one other player. Use their backstory to describe how you met, or parted company and what occurred between the two of you.
Read each others posts, be aware of what they are doing so you can ‘Riff off’ of them; and so I can do the same.
Name: Lilita Lilitu Race: Dhampir Hunger: Life Energy Dhampir Origin: Lilita survived being attacked by a vampire but was forever changed. Class: Druid Background: Witherbloom Student
Appearance: Lilita Lilitu, a 19-year-old Dhampir, is a haunting sight to behold. Standing at a mere 4 feet tall, her original lineage is that of a half-blood mix of Netherese Shadar-kai and Dark Ones. Her shadow-kissed skin and untamed feral demeanor reveal the profound influence her Dhampir heritage has woven into her distinct lineage. Meanwhile, her deep, dark brown eyes, seemingly devoid of soul, bear the burden of countless nights and innumerable sorrows, telling tales of a life touched by both the curse and the gift of her ancestry. Those who dare to gaze into their depths are drawn into an abyss of eternal struggle. Lilita's wild, unkempt mane of raven black dreadlocks hangs loosely around her face like curtains veiling a desolate world. Her attire, a patchwork of scavenged rags and dirty clothes, serves as a bitter reminder of her wretched existence. These tattered garments hang loosely on her thin frame, a silent cry for help to those who take notice. Lilita's life is a constant battle for survival, as she navigates the perils of living beneath the notice of most people. With no permanent home to call her own, she seeks shelter in abandoned barns, old crates, or wherever else she can find a moment's respite. Despite the inhumane conditions and abundant dangers that follow her like a shadow, Lilita remains cautious and resourceful, always searching for a way to rise above the squalor that defines her existence. In rare moments of stillness, one might catch a glimpse of the steadfast hope that lies hidden deep within her heart – a flicker of light amidst the darkness that shrouds her world.
Backstory:
Lilita and her twin sister Lyandra were attending Strixhaven as students when one fateful night, seeking a respite from their studies, they encountered a hideous and gruesome man, or at least what appeared to be a man. His fine clothes were but memories, now soiled and tattered. A vile smile, a permanent fixture of malice upon his face, bore into them with eyes as milky as death's gaze.
Panic seized them, and their flight was cut short by an open sewer. In a moment of sheer terror driven by instinct, Lyandra thrust Lilita into the mire below. A stench of decay assaulted Lilita's senses, and then with trembling hands, Lyandra shoved her struggling sister's head even deeper. Lyandra's voice pierced the chaos, a haunting chant, a song of death as she faced her impending doom. Lilita gasped for breath as her sister's hands desperately pushed her head down under the surface. Lyandra cried out again, and again, "Lilita... hold your breath, don't let go, I feel it coming! Hold your breath, don't let go, I feel it coming!!! Far away, something calls... On the edge of it all... Face the fire, let it come... On the edge of it all..."
The creature's shadow fell upon them; Lyandra's sacrifice was her final defiance, and her life's coda ignited in a blaze that tore through the dark. Beneath the water's shield, Lilita was spared from the inferno's full wrath. Yet, she was not spared from the beast's fury, as its claws grabbed her like a rag doll and pulled her out of the muck, carving away at her frail form. Tearing at her throat, Lilita's pain and agony rendered her unconscious as she slipped away.
Upon awakening to a chorus of sloshing water, Lilita lay amidst damp, blood-soaked earth, the night's terrors absent but not its scars. Her sister's charred hand, the only part that remained, moved about with a life of its own... a strange and silent testament to their parting. With a heart refusing the call of death's ease before at last darkness embraced her.
At death's precipice, Lilita survived being attacked by a vampire but was forever changed. She fled into the woods, losing herself in the wilderness for several years. During this time, she embraced the path of a Druid, finding solace and purpose in the natural world. Recently, the siren song of civilization called to her once more, drawing her out of her self-imposed exile and leading her to the bustling streets of Abiershire.
Name: Kit (Lady Kitiara, First Daughter of the House of Skye)
Race: Half-Elf
Class: TBD (Rogue/Bard or Ranger/Bard)
Background: TBD (hoping to use the custom rules from the PHB. Otherwise, I'm between Noble, Courtier, Charlton, or Faceless)
Description: Kit's slim build, short brown hair, and Elvish features all lend a hint of androgynous beauty to her appearance, a look that she willfully cultivates though her insistence on wearing the current fashions of a male courtier. Her height lies somewhere in that strange confluence between tall human women, short human men, and average Elves (about 5'7"/170cm). She has piercing blue eyes.
Backstory: A quarter hour older and a boy. It doesn't seem like much. But to the [whatever noble title the DM thinks appropriate] and [female version of same] of Skye, it meant everything. Lord Arik of Skye, Heir Apparent, was doted upon by his parents, provided with the best tutors, and given every opportunity to flourish.
In cold comparison, Kitiara of Skye had one purpose and one purpose alone, an arranged marriage to cement a political alliance and produce scions that would secure her family and her brother's position long after her parents were gone.
Burdened by the pressure of his position, Arik took to the life of an entitled rake in a futile attempt to lower his parents' expectations, while his sister became the rebellious gamine in a desperate bid for attention. Neither tack worked.
It wasn't until they were older, when an increasingly recalcitrant Kitiara started forcing her way into Arik's lessons, started besting him at his studies, that Arik finally started receiving the criticism and scorn that he long thought he desired.
It broke their relationship.
Without even her brother to lean on, Kitiara felt more isolated and desperate than she ever had before. And so, the night before her wedding, Lady Kitiara of Skye packed a bag and slipped out of Waterdeep... never to be seen again.
A few weeks later Kit turned up on the streets of Neverwinter, where they have since made a name for themselves as a Jack-of-all-Trades, street performer, and adventurer-for-hire.
Tufts's past: The Flowing Flagon where Tufts is employed is owned by a retired adventuer, though truth be told, scoundrel was a better descriptor. This old scoundrel was rumored to have participated in more than one nefarious deed or another. His name was Potuss but Tufts called him "Da". Obviously they weren't related but Potuss had raised Tufts from a kit (or pup, hatchling, whatever baby bugbears are called). Young enough that Tufts didn't remember his real name, only that Potuss pretty much only referred to him as Tufts. Tufts or worthless cur depending on Potuss' level of inabriation. Potuss never revealed how Tufts came into his care but the bugbear showed up at the same time Potuss came up with means to start the pub. The coincidence was not lost on some. Though he treated Tufts mostly with outward disdain, often beating the poor bugbear when he failed at some task or was lax in his training, Truth revealed, Potuss had a bit of a soft spot under all his bluster and rough edges. In the beginning he had planned to raise Tufts to fight in the pits but over the years the old warrior grew fond of the companionship the young bugbear provided. So instead of letting that fight training go to waste he gave Tufts a job as tavern chiller. Any time a patron would get heated or to deep in their cups it was Tufts job to cool them down and remove them. A recent encounter with a traveling monk has Tufts seeing the world and his place in it a bit differently. All the violence started to weigh on his conscience. He told his Da but the idea was not well recieved. Refusing to fight for the entertainment of others Tufts now only uses his prowess as a means of preventing harm to others.
Backstory: A Mercenary Veteran. Born near Xantharl's Keep, Rothgar's tribe of the Northern Wolf Clan, pledged service to the keep, as not only was the tribe skilled fighters, but they specialized in fighting trolls and giants. When Rothgar was old enough, he joined the Troll Hunters of the keep. Growing board of the typical garrison life, Rothgar joined the mercenary company of Gallad's Giant Killers. The band traveled to Mintarn, and sold their sword arms.
We have a Divine soul sorcerer, a fighter, and a rogue. Looking for good role players. The mix of the three pillars is up to you and how you approach situations.
That's correct, work in progress. We'll cross our fingers but not dare to hope. If I recall correctly, the last two times I tried to apply to your campaigns RL decided my time and energy was needed elsewhere.
Backstory: Vincent had been a "Self Taught" monk, as he called it. He thought it would be much eaiser to become a monk if he could control and limit it all himself. He wasnt exactly *wrong* is the thing. A lenient schedule of Mediation and beating up his Punching Bag was really the extent of his "Training." He is still a good monk however, and he has been living in Abirshire all his life. (I will update this more if needed, but i dont got a lot backstory wise right now.)
After what seemed a life time as a medic with the guard within my mountain home I've set out for an adventure of my own only to find that life on the road isn't easy. A season ago found me in Neverwinter and flat broke. Setting in a tavern talking with a hill dwarf I met, he suggested visiting Abiershire, noting the smith there was looking for an extra hand for the upcoming season. So here I am, full time smithy and part time healer with an itch to see the world and a purse that says not yet.
I'm not even sure if this recruitment is still open but, if it is, I'm just waiting on the answer to this☝️ because Den & I were thinking about submitting joint characters.
Targs human mother died while giving birth to Targ therefore his Orc father didn't want him and he was abandoned on a mountain top to the Orc God Groomsh but he was found and raised by a halfling druid of the mountain and learned her ways and became a druid himself. In modern times Targ might be considered a veterinarian that's where his training led he is friendly with all animals except most of the 2 legged ones. He also has a mean streak in him where he can show his chaotic neutral orc side easily enough. He is very handy with a 1\4 staff and a sling
In need of 1-2 more players.
We have a Divine soul sorcerer, a fighter, and a rogue. Looking for good role players. The mix of the three pillars is up to you and how you approach situations.
The characters are at level 2
I am not a storyteller, I am a referee. There is no pre-designed
railroadpublished adventure. I see no reason not to steal from them all. Do note however, that does not mean the world is static. There is no troll in a locked room just waiting for the ‘adventurer’ to enter; the world moves on. The caravans cross the great stretches of hinterlands in search of a better trade elsewhere, the commoner continues to toil. Dragons scheme, cults plot, the Nobility will always squabble.The question is…Where do you fit in?
Your tale begins in Neverwinter, or rather just outside it, in the small town of Abiershire. A gateway village of caravan stops, rogues, ruffians and desperate folk. The true citizenry may only number a few hundred, mostly farmers, loggers and help-hands but there are more than a few talented craftsmen within its walls. During the trade season the population explodes adding many more mouths, and fists to the ambience.
Posting daily is required, no more than three posts a day
Posts should have action, describe what you are doing, I need something to adjudicate. Also include communication, this can be internal dialogue, thoughts, feelings; or it can be verbal (external) dialogue to another player or NPC.
All base rules of D&D 5e will be used, no optional rule from the DMG. Milestone leveling. I do not ‘Balance’ encounters, you do. If you start a fight you can not win, be prepared to run or die. The environment is alive, it can be of use or used against you to tip the scale. Be Creative.
I have no books to share, you are responsible for your own character. All Official material is welcome. I will require images, screenshots or other visual aids of your character upon request. Otherwise if you are using pen and paper, with real dice, the die-roller in the forum or any other method; I ask…Be Honest, roll and stick to the roll, I don't fudge and neither should you. Don't be too focused on the ‘Character sheet’, your character is more than a skill and a statistic, use creativity to overcome challenges.
We will start at level one (1)
If you are interested; Please send a DM, any experience with D&D welcome, in any context.
Include Name, race, class, and a short backstory
You will receive an invite--The first post will be an introduction of yourself, give enough detail to include potential hooks. How you ended up in Abiershire, why you came. Your second post will include a description of how you are connected to one other player. Use their backstory to describe how you met, or parted company and what occurred between the two of you.
Read each others posts, be aware of what they are doing so you can ‘Riff off’ of them; and so I can do the same.
Name: Lilita Lilitu
Race: Dhampir
Hunger: Life Energy
Dhampir Origin: Lilita survived being attacked by a vampire but was forever changed.
Class: Druid
Background: Witherbloom Student
Appearance: Lilita Lilitu, a 19-year-old Dhampir, is a haunting sight to behold. Standing at a mere 4 feet tall, her original lineage is that of a half-blood mix of Netherese Shadar-kai and Dark Ones. Her shadow-kissed skin and untamed feral demeanor reveal the profound influence her Dhampir heritage has woven into her distinct lineage. Meanwhile, her deep, dark brown eyes, seemingly devoid of soul, bear the burden of countless nights and innumerable sorrows, telling tales of a life touched by both the curse and the gift of her ancestry. Those who dare to gaze into their depths are drawn into an abyss of eternal struggle. Lilita's wild, unkempt mane of raven black dreadlocks hangs loosely around her face like curtains veiling a desolate world. Her attire, a patchwork of scavenged rags and dirty clothes, serves as a bitter reminder of her wretched existence. These tattered garments hang loosely on her thin frame, a silent cry for help to those who take notice. Lilita's life is a constant battle for survival, as she navigates the perils of living beneath the notice of most people. With no permanent home to call her own, she seeks shelter in abandoned barns, old crates, or wherever else she can find a moment's respite. Despite the inhumane conditions and abundant dangers that follow her like a shadow, Lilita remains cautious and resourceful, always searching for a way to rise above the squalor that defines her existence. In rare moments of stillness, one might catch a glimpse of the steadfast hope that lies hidden deep within her heart – a flicker of light amidst the darkness that shrouds her world.
Backstory:
Lilita and her twin sister Lyandra were attending Strixhaven as students when one fateful night, seeking a respite from their studies, they encountered a hideous and gruesome man, or at least what appeared to be a man. His fine clothes were but memories, now soiled and tattered. A vile smile, a permanent fixture of malice upon his face, bore into them with eyes as milky as death's gaze.
Panic seized them, and their flight was cut short by an open sewer. In a moment of sheer terror driven by instinct, Lyandra thrust Lilita into the mire below. A stench of decay assaulted Lilita's senses, and then with trembling hands, Lyandra shoved her struggling sister's head even deeper. Lyandra's voice pierced the chaos, a haunting chant, a song of death as she faced her impending doom. Lilita gasped for breath as her sister's hands desperately pushed her head down under the surface. Lyandra cried out again, and again, "Lilita... hold your breath, don't let go, I feel it coming! Hold your breath, don't let go, I feel it coming!!! Far away, something calls... On the edge of it all... Face the fire, let it come... On the edge of it all..."
The creature's shadow fell upon them; Lyandra's sacrifice was her final defiance, and her life's coda ignited in a blaze that tore through the dark. Beneath the water's shield, Lilita was spared from the inferno's full wrath. Yet, she was not spared from the beast's fury, as its claws grabbed her like a rag doll and pulled her out of the muck, carving away at her frail form. Tearing at her throat, Lilita's pain and agony rendered her unconscious as she slipped away.
Upon awakening to a chorus of sloshing water, Lilita lay amidst damp, blood-soaked earth, the night's terrors absent but not its scars. Her sister's charred hand, the only part that remained, moved about with a life of its own... a strange and silent testament to their parting. With a heart refusing the call of death's ease before at last darkness embraced her.
At death's precipice, Lilita survived being attacked by a vampire but was forever changed. She fled into the woods, losing herself in the wilderness for several years. During this time, she embraced the path of a Druid, finding solace and purpose in the natural world. Recently, the siren song of civilization called to her once more, drawing her out of her self-imposed exile and leading her to the bustling streets of Abiershire.
Name: Kit (Lady Kitiara, First Daughter of the House of Skye)
Race: Half-Elf
Class: TBD (Rogue/Bard or Ranger/Bard)
Background: TBD (hoping to use the custom rules from the PHB. Otherwise, I'm between Noble, Courtier, Charlton, or Faceless)
Description: Kit's slim build, short brown hair, and Elvish features all lend a hint of androgynous beauty to her appearance, a look that she willfully cultivates though her insistence on wearing the current fashions of a male courtier. Her height lies somewhere in that strange confluence between tall human women, short human men, and average Elves (about 5'7"/170cm). She has piercing blue eyes.
Backstory: A quarter hour older and a boy. It doesn't seem like much. But to the [whatever noble title the DM thinks appropriate] and [female version of same] of Skye, it meant everything. Lord Arik of Skye, Heir Apparent, was doted upon by his parents, provided with the best tutors, and given every opportunity to flourish.
In cold comparison, Kitiara of Skye had one purpose and one purpose alone, an arranged marriage to cement a political alliance and produce scions that would secure her family and her brother's position long after her parents were gone.
Burdened by the pressure of his position, Arik took to the life of an entitled rake in a futile attempt to lower his parents' expectations, while his sister became the rebellious gamine in a desperate bid for attention. Neither tack worked.
It wasn't until they were older, when an increasingly recalcitrant Kitiara started forcing her way into Arik's lessons, started besting him at his studies, that Arik finally started receiving the criticism and scorn that he long thought he desired.
It broke their relationship.
Without even her brother to lean on, Kitiara felt more isolated and desperate than she ever had before. And so, the night before her wedding, Lady Kitiara of Skye packed a bag and slipped out of Waterdeep... never to be seen again.
A few weeks later Kit turned up on the streets of Neverwinter, where they have since made a name for themselves as a Jack-of-all-Trades, street performer, and adventurer-for-hire.
We could use another for the sandbox, if interested send a PM. Enter a living world where your actions will determine the outcome.
Tufts
Bugbear
Monk
Tufts's past:
The Flowing Flagon where Tufts is employed is owned by a retired adventuer, though truth be told, scoundrel was a better descriptor. This old scoundrel was rumored to have participated in more than one nefarious deed or another. His name was Potuss but Tufts called him "Da". Obviously they weren't related but Potuss had raised Tufts from a kit (or pup, hatchling, whatever baby bugbears are called). Young enough that Tufts didn't remember his real name, only that Potuss pretty much only referred to him as Tufts. Tufts or worthless cur depending on Potuss' level of inabriation. Potuss never revealed how Tufts came into his care but the bugbear showed up at the same time Potuss came up with means to start the pub. The coincidence was not lost on some. Though he treated Tufts mostly with outward disdain, often beating the poor bugbear when he failed at some task or was lax in his training, Truth revealed, Potuss had a bit of a soft spot under all his bluster and rough edges. In the beginning he had planned to raise Tufts to fight in the pits but over the years the old warrior grew fond of the companionship the young bugbear provided.
So instead of letting that fight training go to waste he gave Tufts a job as tavern chiller. Any time a patron would get heated or to deep in their cups it was Tufts job to cool them down and remove them.
A recent encounter with a traveling monk has Tufts seeing the world and his place in it a bit differently.
All the violence started to weigh on his conscience. He told his Da but the idea was not well recieved. Refusing to fight for the entertainment of others Tufts now only uses his prowess as a means of preventing harm to others.
**This Space for Rent**
Name: Rothgar
Race: Human
Class: Barbarian
Backstory: A Mercenary Veteran. Born near Xantharl's Keep, Rothgar's tribe of the Northern Wolf Clan, pledged service to the keep, as not only was the tribe skilled fighters, but they specialized in fighting trolls and giants. When Rothgar was old enough, he joined the Troll Hunters of the keep. Growing board of the typical garrison life, Rothgar joined the mercenary company of Gallad's Giant Killers. The band traveled to Mintarn, and sold their sword arms.
In need of 1-2 more players.
We have a Divine soul sorcerer, a fighter, and a rogue. Looking for good role players. The mix of the three pillars is up to you and how you approach situations.
The characters are at level 2
Let's try again...
WIP (trying to decide between 3 ideas)
Name:
Race:
Class:
Background:
Backstory:
Hey Grover
What does WIP stand for? (Work in progress? Just thought of it as I wrote the question)
Can put you in whenever you are ready. Just let me know
That's correct, work in progress. We'll cross our fingers but not dare to hope. If I recall correctly, the last two times I tried to apply to your campaigns RL decided my time and energy was needed elsewhere.
Name: Vincent Quilshann
Class:Monk
Race: Aarakocra
Backstory: Vincent had been a "Self Taught" monk, as he called it. He thought it would be much eaiser to become a monk if he could control and limit it all himself. He wasnt exactly *wrong* is the thing. A lenient schedule of Mediation and beating up his Punching Bag was really the extent of his "Training." He is still a good monk however, and he has been living in Abirshire all his life. (I will update this more if needed, but i dont got a lot backstory wise right now.)
Would Blood Hunters be allowed?
'Ello there
Name Morthrum "Mort" Ironbranch
Mountain Dwarf
Life domain cleric/weapon smith
short backstory
After what seemed a life time as a medic with the guard within my mountain home I've set out for an adventure of my own only to find that life on the road isn't easy. A season ago found me in Neverwinter and flat broke. Setting in a tavern talking with a hill dwarf I met, he suggested visiting Abiershire, noting the smith there was looking for an extra hand for the upcoming season. So here I am, full time smithy and part time healer with an itch to see the world and a purse that says not yet.
I'm not even sure if this recruitment is still open but, if it is, I'm just waiting on the answer to this☝️ because Den & I were thinking about submitting joint characters.
Name Targ Toeeater
Race .5 orc
Druid
Targs human mother died while giving birth to Targ therefore his Orc father didn't want him and he was abandoned on a mountain top to the Orc God Groomsh but he was found and raised by a halfling druid of the mountain and learned her ways and became a druid himself. In modern times Targ might be considered a veterinarian that's where his training led he is friendly with all animals except most of the 2 legged ones. He also has a mean streak in him where he can show his chaotic neutral orc side easily enough. He is very handy with a 1\4 staff and a sling
Let me know if this is acceptable to you thanks Greg aka Targ
Hey my name is dylan am a kid just starting d and d by trust me I have a great sence of adventue