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Old Aug 24th, 2013, 03:14 AM
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Old Sep 2nd, 2013, 05:51 AM
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Name: Ulrick Ostgood
Race: Halfling
Class: Oracle (Nature)



Last edited by Vahnscraze; Sep 2nd, 2013 at 03:44 PM.
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Old Sep 2nd, 2013, 06:21 AM
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Adult Dragon
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Name: Gareth (Sheet)
Sex: Male
Race: Halfling
Age: 27
Class: Druid (Storm Druid: Air Domain, Wind Subdomain)
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Traits: Reactionary + Focused Mind

Gareth is an oddity among druids in that he looks to the sky above when others would seek answers in the roots beneath them. With much of his time spent communing with the playful breezes of the mountains, he often overlooks his duties as a warden of nature. Even so, his predilection for peaceful resolutions and ability to maintain a higher perspective has made these minor transgressions tolerable to many of the circle.
With piercing blue eyes and brown hair no shorter than his shoulders, Gareth displays a rugged handsomeness likely attributed to his minimalized contact with animals of the wild. As a frequent traveler of the mountains, he more closely resembles and is frequently assumed to be a mountain ranger in his earthy tones. Bearing two shortspears and a wooden shield, this halfling is most peculiar indeed.
Gareth's mother died in childbirth leaving him as the only child of a father he would seldom get to see. Seeking employment in the nearby city, his father spent much of his time working away from home while Gareth lived with his mother's sister. Married with a child of her own, his aunt all but ignored him as she doted upon her precious baby boy. Gareth spent much of his childhood alone and unwanted in a house that should feel like home.

His few cherished memories were of the rare occasion that his father would come home to visit him. He'd bring tasty treats from the market and share stories of exotic travelers he'd seen before telling him how much he wished he had been there. He promised one day he'd save up enough for a house they could call their own. Sadly, these visits were painfully brief as his father kissed him on the head, paid his aunt for her troubles and set off to the city. Life would carry on like this for many years until he heard the voices.

Laying on the bench in his aunt's garden, Gareth was staring up at the clear sky when the morning breeze drifted in over the wall. It tousled his hair as he closed his eyes before he felt the strangest of feelings. A soft murmur played about his ears that he couldn't quite understand until it sailed away with the wind. Gareth felt strangely comforted by what he had heard, but it would leave him wanting for many days before returning.

On a particularly blustery day, Gareth was perched up on one of the village walls. He found high places oddly relaxing and enjoyed the view of the rolling plains they afforded him. It was on this day that the wind spoke to him. Not quite in words, but in feelings and vibrations he would develop an intuitive understanding of in the months that followed. It wasn't long before his cousin noticed him talking and laughing with himself. Invisible friends, imaginary or otherwise, weren't foreign to children of his village, but Gareth was the first to claim he was speaking to the sky. His cousin quickly spread wild exaggerations of the strangeness he had observed.

Small, even for a Halfling, and perceived as a tad more than eccentric, the children began to pick on him. They'd throw rocks and sticks while waving about large, flat objects as if to suggest they were "speaking" to him. Gareth received his fair share of scrapes and bruises, but he would learn to rely on the subtle warnings of his new "friend" to avoid their misguided hostility.

The days since his father's last visit seemed to stretch on forever. Weeks passed by, then months; he felt a crushing disappointment creeping over his life. His aunt was becoming increasingly annoyed by his presence without a financial incentive to keep him around. This would eventually result in her forcing Gareth out on the street, convinced his father was never coming back. The abandonment he felt painted the world in shades of depression. With no place to call home, he retreated into the forested plains nearby. The skies shared his sadness by raining for many days. It was a small comfort in his otherwise lonely existence. He would find a home in the wild, but it would be many years before he'd return to the civilized world.
The air has turned sour; the fearful cries of nature's children carried up the mountain to where his ears could hear them. Something has entered in to his domain, its disregard for the natural order not unnoticed. When the voices called to him he answered with an unwavering focus. He would bring peace to the denizens of his forest abode.

Facing the speckled lights of the city below, he began his way down the mountain. He would need help if he was to calm the forest. Gareth had passed through Brandon's Bridge some days ago. One of the townsfolk had been rather hospitable. He could recall their warm countenance though the name escaped him. He was terrible with names. . .
Roleplay Sample (Different Character)“What do you mean you can’t find him? What, exactly, do I pay you for?” The mayor’s shouts could be heard several streets over where Susurrus hid in the rubbish of a neglected alley. Not my proudest moment, he admitted, but one doesn’t get caught spying on the mayor’s wife and expect to walk away a free man. He was chasing rumors of her sneaking off in the night for less than reputable reasons. It wasn’t unusual for him to happen upon such unsavory bits of information – after all, he usually went looking for them – but despite his better judgment he couldn’t leave a puzzle unsolved; he never could. He was still processing the bizarre sequence of events he’d just witnessed.

He had picked the perfect vantage point: an old tree overlooking the back of the estate. It wasn’t long before he saw the wife; the many bright lanterns carrying her long shadow across the grass. With a sweep of her hand, they suddenly dimmed. Straining his eyes, he noticed what he could only describe as a dark fog race across the grounds top stop directly before her. She produced a glowing object before plunging it into the darkness. A few muttered words and the shadow slid up and over the wall. “Help! Thief!” she suddenly cried, waving her hand once more as the lights regained strength. Susurrus knew something wasn’t right, but appreciating the growing risk of the present, he leapt down from the branch and stole across the garden towards the city.

As the shouts drifted away into night he crept towards the street. Looking down the path he could see the lantern hanging over the open gate. Before he could act, a voice struck out from the roof overhead, “Are you lost, boy?” A dark figure swept down into the street, blocking his passage to safety. It wasn’t often that he felt desperation looming over him, but the grave realization that he had stolen a sight not meant for him was rising in the back of his throat. Reaching deep within himself, he lowered his hands to his sides. The air began to swirl about him building into a roar before he raised his hands; an invisible wave of force rushing out to knock the threat aside. Time to go! he thought sprinting toward the gate before disappearing into the forest’s welcoming embrace. The wind rustled in the leaves above as he took shelter for the night. A soft, “Thanks” was all that was heard before he drifted off to sleep.

When he awoke, he was startled to find a letter resting on his chest. He quickly looked about for danger before his curiosity got the better of him. He carefully unfolded the paper,

“I’m told you know how to handle yourself; it’s not every day someone gets by Vesper. I have need of someone with your talents.

Follow the mark,


Upon reading the final words, the letter evaporated into the air; the soft glow of a newly formed symbol on his palm pointing the way to adventure.

Gareth is very much a peacekeeper in that he strives to resolve problems without violence. To this end, his spell selection and choice of actions will focus upon controlling or disabling his opponents before killing them outright. While he will defend his life if forced to, he will not take pleasure in extinguishing the life of another. This attitude is susceptible to change if Gareth is presented with an enemy that is deliberately and maliciously pursuing the corruption/disruption/destruction of nature or the air/wind/skies.

In regards to the possibility of future campaigns/modules after this short one-off, Gareth can find motivation for participating either by making a meaningful connection with someone he would wish to protect (like a party member or NPC) or if the air/wind/whatever impresses upon him the sense that he needs to go there. (Reasons could include a threat to nature or anything that would be personal to him)
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Old Sep 2nd, 2013, 06:24 AM
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Coelubris Coelubris is offline
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Name: Ishani
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Class: Sorcerer


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Old Sep 2nd, 2013, 06:30 AM
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Name: Vitos Brokensoul

Race: Half-Orc

Alternate Racial Features: Rock Climber Half-orcs from mountainous regions are excellent climbers, and sometimes ambush prey by leaping down from above. Half-orcs with this racial trait gain a +1 racial bonus on Acrobatics and Climb checks. This racial trait replaces the intimidating trait.Rock Climber, Sacred Tattoo Many half-orcs decorate themselves with tattoos, piercings, and ritual scarification, which they consider sacred markings. Half-orcs with this racial trait gain a +1 luck bonus on all saving throws. This racial trait replaces orc ferocity.Sacred Tatoo

Class: Monk of the Sacred Mountain

Traits: Eyes of the Wild, Mutant Eye

Personality: Vitos is a good natured yet often misunderstood soul, he seeks to travel the world to learn more of himself and the peoples that live their. He hopes to eventually find acceptance for who he is instead of rejection for how he looks. He will glady help Brandon's Bridge, if nothing else that to finally have a place to start building the reputation he will need if he is ever to be accepted by those arround him. He is not sensitive about his third eye, he considers it a blessing and makes no attempt to hide it. A simple headband would conceal it from unwanting eyes but he wears it as a badge of honor. He is normally very withdrawn, tending to focus his mind on meditations and his continual training regiment. Every morning he begins the day with a breathtaking display of the martial arts that was part of his training regime at the temple and has become his ritualistic greeting to the day and whatever surprises life may throw at him.

A Tragic Tale

The eyes are the windows of the soul

"It's horrible, get it away!", the cry was not one that would be expected from a mother, especially one who had just given birth. Salina had known that the chances of his child being born normal were slim. She had fully expected the pale green skin, the dominant canines, and even the bloodred eyes, but nothing had prepared her for the third eye. It was truely an abomination.

Her unholy union with the massive beast Gorthunk, an Orc slave whose stamina was legendary, had brought on something she had never wanted. Nine months of delay to her plans of domination for the region of Silmonea, nine months of pain and sickness that preventer her from completing the crafting of the Jade Skull. An Artifact that would give her unchallanged control over the many dead that littered the ruined country-side in the wake of her rapidly advancing armies. She had planned over the last few months to use the child of her womb as a sacrifice to fuel the creation process, but deformed as the child was he wasn't even worthy as a sacrificial lamb.

"Give it to the father, before you slit their worthless throats." she ordered and watched her trusted luitenant back out of the bedchamber with a deep bow, the abomination wrapped in dark cloths.


Gorthunk was unusual for an orc in more than just his size, a biproduct of the circumstances of his own interacial parentage, he seemed more ogre than orc. He had spent his entire life under the witches thumb and had only taken to her bed to keep his head on her shoulders. The womans lust for pleasures of the flesh was almost as great as her vicious temper and dark disposition. Seeing his child for the first time, he was filled with something that was foreign to most of his race, despite the childs deformities he knew he could not let Salina's evil schemes harm the child.

A flash of metal in the dim torchlight warned him split seconds before his lifeblood would have spewed forth across the fragile form of his first and only child. Fighting with his child in arm was difficult, but years of serving the witch as a slave and soldier had honed his muscles to a fine fighting edge. It was a brutal fight, one that ended with the dissapearance of an orc and it's half-human infant, but not in the way Salina had planned.

He managed to make it out of the compound, past Salina's massive armies, and deep into the mountains before he succumbed to his wounds. The beast died with a smile on his face, he had reached the reputed monestary in time, his child would live on.

The Monks of the Sacred Mountain didn't know what to make of the situation, but they were not about to allow the child to freeze in the cold wintry mountain air, no matter what his parentage was. Secluded and hidden from outsiders in a small valley surrounded by treacherous clicks and jagged peaks, Vitos would grow into a strong warrior. Far away from the judging eyes of the so called civilized races, he was raised with patience, understanding, and most importantly, love.

A Journey Begins

The river must forge its own path down the mountain.

"I will not foget everything you have taught me Master," the unusual half-orc ramained kneeling in a contemplative stance, his massive arms resting calmly on his knees. All around him, the almost ritualistic life of warrior monks continued unnoticed by Vitos BrokenSoul. Not far away a desciple of the Sacred Moutain stood perched precariously on the head of a quarterstaff that stoof balanced and unsupported on the cold cobblestone floor. The desciple had been there for three days now and was nearing the end of his first trial needed to be proclaimed a true monk of the Sacred Mountain. The trials would last him for the next three months.

"Go with the brotherhoods blessings child, you must walk your own path, there are many lessons that you must learn outside of the confines of these stone walls. This place is like a cage, and you were born to be free.", the masters words came as a mixed blessing to the half-orc, he had always known that one day he would leave, but the temple was the only home he had ever known.

He knew despite the lack of actual praise from the masters, that they considered him one of their most prized students. His ability to read a mans facial expressions had become somewhat legendary and the masters had explained that the physical representation of the minds eye was the reason behind his unusual perceptiveness. Vitos bowed deeply touching his forehead to the stoneworked floor in acknowledgment of the masters wishes before rising, gathering his quarterstaff, and making his way to the secluded temples gates. There was nothing else that needed to be said, like him the master was also extremely perceptive to what lay in a mans heart, and they were far past the need for verbal communication.

It was time for the halforc to stand on his own two feet, time for him to venture out into the wide world, and time to face his destiny.

Rocky Begginings

A monster isn't born, a monster is created.

"Stop were you are freak," the voice of the town guards rang out dripping with a bitter hatred that he was becoming accustomed to. He halted his advance and stared the guards down with three impassive red eyes. Unlike his kin, his eyes were not cursed with the yellow stains or bloodshot lines of anger seething beneath the surface. They were calm, cool, and patient.

"I am only passing through good sirs," he responded in the calming tones knowing that it would matter little, the guards eyes were still locked on his third eye which examined them with a penetrating gaze as it moved up and down the guards independantly of his normal eyes. Those looked past the guards and down the dirt road to what appeared to be an inn." I am simply looking for a hot meal and a place to rest my feet and sooth the weariness of the road from my bones. Perhaps a hot bath, if one is available."

"You really think we buy that? You think we are fools and that we would let monster like you into our peaceful community? I should kill you were you stand for such and insult!" the guard shouted from only a few feet away, his words spewing spittle across the monks face even from such a distance.

"I see it was a mistake to come here, I bid you good day sir. I would not wish to darken your doorstep on such a fine day," he turned slowly away and began retracing his steps back into the woods from which he had came.

"Wait!" a voice called out from within the town and he turned to notice an aging man in white robes who was adorned with some sort of religious emblem attached to a chain arround his neck."Let the man through Steve, he obviously means us no harm."

The guards backed away in respect for the aging priest and nodded their acceptance, "My name is Brother Gravin, I do apologize for the guards reaction. Although for some reason i do not believe that you hold them any malice for their rough treatment."

Vitos extended his hand and clasped the priest offered arm in greeting, "It is quite ok, Brother Gravin. I am quite used to it." His third eye continued to watch the guards for any sudden movements as he locked eyes with the priest and a small smile touched his lips. This man was a respected member of the community and a good man, he didn't need the minds eye to know that.

"Come, come, we'll get you that hot bath and meal you mentioned and then we'll sit down for a chat. I have a proposition for you, you look like you can handle yourself and we have had a few problems lately that I need someone to take a look into." It was the understatement of the century, Vitos though short for a half orc at only five foot six was packed with hardened and finely toned muscles. His quaterstaff was well worn from the road but tipped in steel mountain peaks on both ends and obviously deadly. Lesser men would avoid him altogether without even noticing the unusual third eye. "Welcome to Brandons Bridge my friend."

Last edited by GrassMonkey; Sep 3rd, 2013 at 06:42 AM.
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Old Sep 2nd, 2013, 10:07 AM
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Name: Melody Flynn

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Class: Rogue (Swashbuckler Archetype (and Scout if we get to fourth level))



Mcderth is quietly working his way back onto the site. Don't stare to hard, you might scare him away...
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Old Sep 2nd, 2013, 10:20 AM
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Last edited by Rogue77; Sep 3rd, 2013 at 08:49 PM.
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Old Sep 2nd, 2013, 01:35 PM
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Originally Posted by zevonian View Post
Name: Cto Lok. (Pronounced Cue-Toe Lock)
Race: Half-Orc
Class: Ranger (Two Handed Weapon Style, as per APG p124)


RP Samples:
Combative Debate

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Old Sep 2nd, 2013, 01:52 PM
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Name: Raylan Astarni
Race: Human
Class: Paladin (for now)
Character Sheet


BackgroundRaylan Astarni was born into a family of proud scholars and mages, well known in the lands for producing a formidable number of wizards throughout the ages who served as diviners and advisors for lords and kings, mighty warmages who destroyed whole armies and even the ocassional insane overlord that had to be hunted down by brave adventurers.
The boy was supposed to follow in the footsteps of his father Gardas - military advisor and artillery commander of Lord Bastan as well as a deadly force on the battlefield - a man for whom the study of the arcane and obscure was like breathing.

Indeed, Raylans birth was seen as a good omen and sign of greatness to come for the familiy's name, as the mark of Nethys was found on the infants right hand.
The birthmark was seen as a proof that the boy was favored by the god of magic himself to excel at the magical arts. His father didn't waste time to proclaim the event publicaly, forcing his son down a path of unfulfillable expectations and disappointment.

Raylan never had the skills neccesary to understand the complex intricacies and strange concepts behind arcane forcefields, laylines and other sources of power that were to be tapped for one to become a successful wizard. He was not stupid, and was able to learn much during his studies, but he never satisfied his father's hopes of an archwizard heir.

While he was a failure in this field, he was always interested in the stories of brave heroes thwarting dangers and dangerous foes - slaying dragons and demons to rescue the innocent and carve a place for themselves in the stories of tommorow. He was also physically adept and pracitced at swordsplay and other forms of fighting from a young age - something he was expected to do anyway as the son of a high ranking officer in the army.
His love for adventure stories and tales of shining knights combined with pure talent and natural predisposition led him to the path of paladin at a young age, when he witnessed one such man battling a ferocious drake.
It was 6 years ago, during an especially hot summer - his father was away in matters of state, while he was spending time with his mother and sisters at one of their summer residences. The drake in question was half starved and mad from hunger and thirst when it attacked the nearby village of Svalta, in hope of taking some cattle or villager back to its lair.

Sir Lothar Highfor, a knight and paladin of Iomedae was present at that time by chance and risked his life for the defense of the unsuspecting villagers - losing his swordarm in the process - which Raylan witnessed himself from the balcony of their estate.

This act of courage and selflessness impressed the young boy so deeply, that from this day he was absorbed by the wish to one day become a paladin himself.

He had to hide his intentions from his father though, as picking up arms and wading into battle on the frontline was seen as a quite barbaric act unbefitting of his blood and lineage. At least in Deval, the veteran elven swordmaster who was his instructor in hand-to-hand battle, he found understanding and approval. His father never suspected the cause of Raylans eagerness for those sessions and the increasing time he invested in practice during the few free hours he had - time he should have used to catch up witch his other teachings in the eyes of the old wizard.

Whe he turned 17, he finaly was able to gather the courage to tell his father in the face what he really wanted to do, expecting a furious outbreak of anger and quite possibly harsh punishment. But his father only nodded absently and left the room in a slow walk, muttering something under his nose - they didn't speak again for several days.
When Gardas finaly turned up during one of the boy's training sessions, he brought with him a set armor and the family's sword - a heirloom from centuries ago, when one of his ancestors - Harlad the brave - conquered an enemy kingdom almost single-handedly in the name of his king using both, swordplay and magic to devastating effect.
"Take these and follow your path", he said with a heavy sigh and tears welling up in his eyes. "I have suspected for a long time that your talents don't lie where i would like them to be, but i wished for you to continue my legacy, as i did my father's."

Raylan was shocked to hear those words from his father's mouth, as he knew him a hard man with great goals who never backed away from something he wanted. Even his teacher Deval gasped and looked as if he saw an owlbear wearing a kilt - after all he had served the man for a great portion of his life.
"The mark of Nethys was maybe nothing but chance." he continues - "In truth you should have been born with a sword on your hand, but it seems you were born with in your heart instead, my son."
With these words he lay the weapon and armor at the boys feet and embraced him heartily. "Find your own way, be it what is shall be, i believe in you.", his voice was shivering in a whisper while the long white beard tickled on Raylans bare chest. "Bring justice and follow your heart. You will always be welcome here."

After he took farewell from his family and his closest friend Deval, Raylan trained in different paladin orders, but never taking vows to join any of them, as he felt it to be too restrictive - he was not willing to part from his lifelong trust in Nethys, the lord of magic and all that is and can be. He even tried once to further his studies in a rather militant church of his god, but was frowned upon due to his inability in the arts - doubly so when those were paired with the rare birthmark, something seen as a bad omen by these priests and mages.

In the time since he left his home, Raylan was able to battle many a foe and save the ocassional wanderer from a bandit, but since he never joined an organised order officialy, he was living the life of a wanderer, doing good and helping those he met by chance. The military structure of such orders reminded him too much of his father and his not quite happy childhood as a failed apprentice.
He took his father's farewell words to his heart: "Follow your hear." - and his heart told him to go his own way.

Nevertheless, he always wondered, if becoming a true wizard had been possible if he had just studied harded ...

Why is he here?Raylan is wandering the land in search of innocents that need protection and evildoers to be punished. He heard rumors of bandit attacks by chance and decided to follow those back to the source. He doesn't know anybody in the village but might have come upon an attacked wanderer on his way (maybe even chasing off a bandit or two)

Raylan is an easygoing young man, slightly naive and inexperienced, but with a strong morale codex. His main goal is to protect innocents - and he will strike down anyone who endangers the common folk, preferably while avoiding unneccesarry killings.

He believes everybondy can change for the better and tries to lead by his example (his own ideal of a just person). His believe in this is very strong, since it grew from his father choice to let him go willingly - something the same man wouldn't have been capable of 10 years prior.

Petty thievery doesn't concern him much, he sees it as a matter better left for the guard - for he is destined to thwart greater evil. "Chaotic" acts tend to be ignored by him, as he himself is a believer of freedom and doesn't care too much for local laws - as these tend to change drastically wherever he goes. For instance: he would not turn in a man who stole some food out of hunger - and he would not immediatly turn in a thief if that would cost the man his hand - even if he stole a big amount. He would rather try to make him see the wrong in his ways and change before going to such drastic measures.

He has quite a temper though and is more arrogant than he would like to think of himself - something to be expected of a man who grew up with the sure knowledge to be from one of the grandest families and who was told he has inherited intelect beyond measure.

While he tries to live a non-violent life, he can be roused to rudeness and even brawling by anyone who tries hard enough - afterwards he often swears it will never happen again.

AppearanceRaylan is a slender young man, quite attractive and most often a good mood is showing on his face.

He has blonde hair, which he wears short - except for a braid reaching down to his shoulders - a style quite fashionable in his homeland at the time of his departure.

His clothes tend to look out of place in the countryside where he is often traveling, since he is wearing a breastplate adorned with filligrant carvings reminiscent of the elven style when geared for battle, with fitting heavy boots, while his remaining clothes seem equally out of place for a simple warrior and reminiscent of nobleman gear.
When in his day-to-day outfit, he is as well wearing expensive fabrics and clothes, often adorned with the symbol of his family - a six-spoked wheel (a symbol of perfection and strength) and variants thereof.

Raylan wears his sword Darkfire openly and with pride - as it is a valued heirloom. A maserfully crafted blade, sharpened on one side to perfection while still allowing for deadly stabs - he had to invest additional training to fully master its capabilities


Traits and DevelopmentHe will take Additional traits at first level, to better show some of his specifics

Weapon of Peace - Raylan trained himself to subdue opponents without killing them, even with lethal weapons (only -2 atk penalty for nonlethal damage)
Birthmark - The mark of Nethys aquired at birth, a sign of a possible future
Magical Knack - He has an innate magical talent for sorcery that just hasn't been tapped yet. When he finaly discovers the power surging through his blood, it will come at a greater might to him
Rich Parents - Backing the story up with the masterwork gear he got from his father


RP-ExampleNot much i can show here, i didn't get to much pbp yet, so enjoy the little i have to offer

After patrolling the surrounding forest for a few hours, a „job“ he was already doing for some weeks, Valan made rest at the forest border.
Since the weather was clear and still warm, he saw no need for a fire and just searched for a tree with lots of grass and moss below it. He set his staff and backback aside and sat down with his back leaning against the old bark.
Not far behind him a big dog was following in his track slowly, sometimes stopping to listen for a small animal that decided it was wise to flee from the potential predator.
From the distance it could have been mistaken for a wolf searching cattle to feed on, but this dog was not of the kind to hunt game bigger than itself. Hares and other small animals were enough of a battle for him.

Shortly after Valan sat down the dog ley beside him, poking the man in the side until he finaly started to run his fingers through the animal's grey-brown fur.
When the dog seemed satisfied, Valan took some beef jerky out of his backback and threw it on the ground beside the dog while getting some old bread and freshly gathered berries for himself.
The dog threw itself on the meat swiftly, while Valan muttered more to himself „easy boy, you don't want to get fat, no?“, at the same time searching for some water to make the rest perfect.

With his furry friend's head on his lap and the sun shining through the leaves on his face, Valan fall asleep for a short time. His sleep was short since his dog's barking woke him up when someone was approaching.

„Shh Gordis, don't make a ruckus“ Valan muttered while swiftly standing up and looking towards the direction of his visitor.

When Podrick emerged from between the bushes, Valan greeted him formaly, and after listening to the man's complains about his habit of camping in the wild, he accepted his new orders, assembled his stuff and went straight towards the keep.
Podrick accompanied him a little while but went his own way shortly. He wished the man a good day and wondered what company he has to endure in the near future, after all there were some strange folk roaming the keep.

At the destined building he was stopped by some rude man, who reminded him once again the dog was to be left outside, which apparently didn't please Gordis. But he listened to Valan and sat himself to the left of the building's door, watching all the young recruits practicing in the yard, while hoping go get some food from anyone who passed by.


As he enters the room, Valan is surprised by the unexpected pair sitting on the bench there.
„Well, i suppose you two were summoned here on behalf of the Major as well?“ he asks with a smile after a moment of consideration.
„My name is Valan and i'm pleased to meet you in that case.“
He nods his head slightly, then walks towards the bench, leaning his staff against the wall on its side and sitting down.

„Of course i'm pleased to meet you even if you were not summoned for the same cause as myself.“ he adds after considering his words again.

Noticing the strong tabaco smell coming from his neighbour he moves a little to the side and starts to watch the door in anticipation of additional unit members.
Hope Gordis doesn't scare anyone that walks by with food in hands – he could eat all day and cost me my last gold piece – well silver piece rather.
At this thought a slightly stupid looking smile appears on Valan's face and he lets out a rather loud sigh.
Hangman's Noose (Pathfinder)
The Haunting (Call of Cthulhu)

Last edited by sertaki; Sep 18th, 2013 at 04:27 AM. Reason: added quick reference
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Old Sep 2nd, 2013, 07:04 PM
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JasonWFD JasonWFD is offline
Dwarven T-Rex Pal/Wiz
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Jorven, Half-Orc Cleric

Name: Race: Class:
Jorven Half-Orc Cleric of Tulis (Liberation, Strength)



Last edited by JasonWFD; Sep 3rd, 2013 at 08:04 PM.
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Old Sep 3rd, 2013, 08:31 AM
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austarrowsplitter austarrowsplitter is offline
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Name: Therkas Glanli the Beardless
Race: Dwarf

Class: Fighter (Foehammer)

Background: Therkas' clan is disgraced among the dwarves. Many years ago, Torag had performed a miracle, granting the dwarves a magic diamond that would allow them to see their enemies coming, and plan their defenses perfectly. Therkas' great great grandfather, for unknown reasons, stole the diamond and sold it to the orcs and giants so they could destroy it. From then on, the men of Therkas' clan were forced to shave their beards, and all of them are forced to keep their hair short, so that all may see their shame. So great was his crime that it is now forbidden to speak their true clan name, and they are now known as Clan Glanli, which means Lost Pride in the dwarven tongue. Therkas, determined to restore his family name by doing something so great as to wipe away his dirty rotten diamond stealing great great grandfather's crime. He's wandered the world ever since he was old enough to leave home, and when he heard the call for adventurers go out from Brandon's Bridge, he knew that he would start his career as an adventuring hero there.

Personality: Therkas is a very humble dwarf. All his life, he's been dumped on because of something his ancestor did. As such, he's learned to grin and bear whatever taunts, insults, or rude behavior gets thrown his way... and bottle it up, and take it out on anything that gets in front of his hammer. Those who've fought alongside him tend to stand back a bit, as he charges into the fray with a stream of epithets, his massive hammer quickly turning foes into a gory pulp. When he does speak, he tends to be somewhat quiet and reserved, not wanting to overstep his rather low social station, and he very clearly doesn't have much practice in the niceties of polite society. He wants to help the people of Brandon's Bridge mostly as a way to begin to make a name for himself. He does sympathize with them, and it makes him sad that such troubles have befallen such a small town. But, at the end of the day, his main priority is reclaiming his family's long-lost honor. Beyond that, he's your average, everyday Lawful Good Dwarven Fighter. A good day for him would be to come back to a warm tavern with a big plate of hot food and a mug of cold ale after a hard day of guarding a dwarven fortress.

RP sample: Magnum makes much alliteration. Oaen makes a life-altering decision... that ends up not actually changing anything.
You call THIS a sidequest?

You can't have slaughter without laughter.
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