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  #1  
Old 04-04-2018, 09:30 AM
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Trondheim Jomsvikings

”Trondheim Jomsvikings”


The Trondheim Jomsvikings



PlayerCharacterRaceClassCity stateDeity
GMAnjisBjarki GunnbjornssonGoliathWarlock (Celestial)TrondheimThor
MelchiorHrist HaraldsdóttirHalf-elfRanger UATrondheimForseti
In the MixSiwan FreyasdottirHuman variantCleric (Life)TrondheimFreya
HafrogmanAsvig LongthewsHuman variantPaladin (Crown)TrondheimTyr
YsoldeArvendalla Rhys'shyyrElfBard (Lore)TrondheimFrigga


Last edited by SiroVai; 07-17-2018 at 04:42 PM.
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Old 04-04-2018, 11:22 AM
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Haldor
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Name: Haldor son of nobody
Race: Human (Variant)
Class: Barbarian (XGtE: Path of the Zealot)
Background: Folk Hero

Appearance: Haldor appears to be about 60 years old with long unkempt white hair and beard. In actually he is closer to 50. A long hard life has aged his appearance prematurely. Haldor is not a large man, he stands about 5’6” and only weighs about 160lbs. Despite his size or age he can still handle himself with axe and shield along with the best of them.

Alignment: CG
Chosen Diety: Thor
Chosen city-state: Trondheim

Personality: Haldor is a man trying to escape his demons. After many years of being a slave the old man still blames himself for the death of his family. He was not strong enough to defend them when it mattered the most. To cope with it Haldor is prone to drink, sometimes to excess. It is a way to forget about the past. Even as he deals with the demons of his past he has rededicated himself to the present and the future. Knowing he has more years behind than in front of him his goal is to regain a sense of self-honor that he lost as a slave. He wants to prove himself in the eyes of the gods on the field of battle. This sometimes can make him reckless. Haldor has a hard and gruff exterior created by the emotional wall he had to build around himself for many years. After he lets his guard down he can be a kind and gentle soul. Haldor has an extreme dislike for orcs and will kill them on sight. He also has a general dislike for half-orcs and maintains his distance from them until he can figure out who they are as an individual. Even then any sort of friendship is difficult. Their appearance alone reminds him of the past.

Positive Key event: Haldor still holds strong memories of his time as a farmer 20 years ago. Life was simpler then, he had a wife that nagged him every day and children to love. The homestead was his family, brothers, sisters, uncles and cousins made up the small settlement and they were his life. There was no worries beyond this season’s crops. Sadly after many many years he is unable to picture what his wife or children looked like. Their faces escape him, but his love for them does not.

Negative Key event: Many years ago Haldor was but a simple farmer on a homestead near the town of Tonder. That all changed when the Orcs of Russ descended from the tundra on one of their raiding parties. The men of the homestead were outnumbered 3 to 1 and after a long bloody battle where many died the survivors were captured and sold into slavery. This is where Haldor found himself for the next 20 years. Shame and guilt wracked his soul because he was unable to die on the battlefield but instead was taken as a slave with the women and children.

Where did you acquire your talents: As a slave Haldor served as servant, laborer and even sometimes as gladiator for the amusement of the orcs. They would pit him and other slaves against each other for sport. Sometimes he was pitted against youngling orcs looking to wet their blade for the first time. Even strange beasts of the tundra the orcs captured for their own amusement were thrown into the arena. Many of his brother’s died over the years but Haldor was able to survive in the gladiator pits.

Why you joined the Jomsvikings: After many years as a slave a large band of Jomsvikings raided the orc village and freed their countrymen. They heard rumors that a tribe of orcs deep in the Russ were holding Viking slaves and they set out to free their countrymen. Unfortunately when they arrived not many were left to celebrate the liberation. Thanking Odin Haldor pledged his axe to the Jomsvikings for the rest of his life as a way to repay them for freeing him from the orcs. With nothing else left to live for Haldor sees these coming raids as a way to bring glory upon himself and to guarantee a spot in Valhalla when he dies.


About meRealistic posting rate: I can generally maintain a healthy x2 times a week, sometimes more if a few smaller quick posts are needed to push the narrative along.

Previous role playing experience: I played quite a lot of 2nd edition back in the early 90s. Life pulled me away and after many years I returned to RPGs, at least PbP on the internet. I have been on RPG Crossing for about a year and a half and I have no intention of leaving. This is the only chance I get to enjoy D&D. I have been playing 5e exclusively this whole time.

Number of forum games you're currently playing: I am currently DMing one game that has been going strong for just over a year. I am also playing in 4 different campaigns. Unfortunately one of those games the DM had to take an extended break so I am not sure if he is coming back. So right now I am really down to 3.

Any other notes: I check the site daily and I have nothing that might pull me away from posting for any longer than a day, usually that is only because of work, life, kids etc all catch up to me at once. Sometimes my house does lose power and I have to work on my laptop by using a candle to see and that can slow down my posting rate.


Role Playing SampleLooking at the young leader of the war party Haldor spit on the ground and waved his axe him. “I can keep up. Do not doubt that! In fact I bet you a half a barrel of mead that I will not be the first one to fall out. Now are we going to spend the rest of the afternoon clucking at each other like hens or are we going to go after that orc band that was spotted outside the village?” Shaking his head at the arrogance of the newcomer Ragoth could do nothing but spur the group into action. It was not in his best interest to keep quarrelling with the old warrior while there were orcs still out there. Picking up a steady jog the war band set on after the orc scouting party that was spotted outside the village. Haldor remained quiet after as he kept up the pace as the leaders tracked the orcs in front of them. It was clear that after 2 hours on the trail of the orcs the old man was right. Instead of lagging behind he was right in the front with the tracker and Ragoth never missing a step and barely winded.

After 3 hours on the trail the war band finally came across the orcs. It seemed the foul creatures were ready to camp for the night. The Viking warband’s leader Ragoth raised his hand for the group to halt so they could discuss some strategy. Before he could open his mouth Haldor let out a war cry. “They cannot and will not escape me. By Thor’s hammer GLORY TO THE BRAVE!” He then raised his axe and charged past the rest of the group and into the orc encampment. Shaking his head Ragoth spurred the rest of them forward following behind the crazy old coot. As they ran in after him they could see that the old man fought as if Thor himself guided his arm. Haldor bashed one enemy with his shield while slicing another with his axe. Before the rest of the orcs could mount a defense he had 2 of them dead where they lay. When the rest of the Vikings entered the melee the orcs did not stand a chance and when the battle was over the warrior with the most kills at his feet was Haldor…
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Old 04-04-2018, 11:59 AM
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JolviCharacter Name: – Jolvi Sardsson.

Race: – Human Variant
Class + Subclass: – Fighter Battlemaster
Background: - Outlander
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Appearance: -
Jolvi is a Norgelander from the outland clans who range and homestead in the foothills and upper edges of the northern mountains. He is a rugged highlander, from a family of warriors and woodsmen, so has the appearance of traditional Norgeland men, wearing longer hair and most often a beard.

Alignment: – CN
Chosen Diety: - Thor
Chosen city-state: - Trondheim

Personality (single paragraph): – Jolvi is rather quiet for the most part, but bursts into great passion at times, mostly during the rage of combat or if angered. He is more of a follower than a leader. He looks to others who are wiser or who have won rightful command through their strength and prowess to tackle complex decision-making for the group. In battle he is fearless and bold. He respects alliances with other honorable men, but will cheat, rob, con and slay any dishonorable victim or foe, giving them no quarter even if they offer ransom or beg mercy. He is quick to violence, immediately avenging any seriously intended insult with lethal force if at all possible. He respects genuine piety of Norgeland gods but despises venal foreign priests and their trappings of pompous religion. He likes or dislikes others based on their honor and their actions, not their religion or race. Despite his harshness, Jolvi is hospitable and generous to those in need, even to strangers, and likewise respects any hospitality shown him.

Positive Key event (single paragraph): – Jolvi fought alongside his father Sard, his brothers Arne and Viddur, and even his sister Sorlae in the battle of Torstein Mountain, when the hill clans fought against the Dog Men of the Wastes. In this battle, Jolvi stood shoulder to shoulder with his father and witnessed his glorious death in battle. Standing triumphant on the battlefield alongside of his siblings, knowing that his father was taken to Valhalla, Jolvi was inspired to claim a life of glory, war, and plunder, no matter how short or long it was to last.

Negative Key event (single paragraph): Jolvi’s elder brother Arne later became a raider and went to foreign lands. Arne decided to stay in one of the foreign lands over a winter. When Jolvi saw him there two years later, Arne had taken a foreign wife and had converted to a weak foreign religion that followed the teachings of a pale thin man who was said to have turned into a bird. Arne now venerates the bird man, making sacrifices to him and attending festivals following the teachings of his soft priests. Jolvi is now ashamed of his brother, who was once his rival but also his mentor and role model.

Where did you acquire your talents (single paragraph): – Jolvi comes from a line of great warriors. His father, the renowned raider Sard Left-Handed, was a harsh teacher, but an effective one. Jolvi grew up among the hill clans where border battles are commonplace and boys (and even some girls) are taught from a young age to wield sword, axe, and spear in life or death combat.

Why you joined the Jomsvikings (single paragraph): – Jolvi has been fighting in skirmishes and rural border wars since he was young. He knows that his father and brother have been on raids and expeditions in the past. He has heard of the wealth that is being plundered on recent voyages, so he is anxious to get into the best company heading out to sea and win his share of the loot and glory. He also wishes to lash out against the foolish religions of the foreigners and plunder the gold from the churches of the gilded priests.



About MeRealistic posting rate: – Once a day, perhaps missing one day here and there during a busy workweek.

Previous role playing experience: - I played 1st and 2nd Editions AD&D as a youth in the late 80s, and kept it up for probably 8-10 years. Then I was away from the game for a long time, returning I think in 2012 to revive a game with old friends. Started playing in other circles, learned 3.5 through Pathfinder. Converted to 5e, a little late maybe, about 2 years ago. Throughout that time I have been a DM far more than a player, but I enjoy playing very much. I have brief experience in CyberPunk and Call of Cthulhu.

Number of forum games you're currently playing: – I am a new site member, not currently playing any forums, but have applied to one other. I only intend to play two games max.

Any other notes: – N/A


Roleplay Sample (2 Paragraph Limit)Jolvi took the torc necklace off the body of the dead con merchant. It was a mix of bronze and nickel, quite sturdy. Jolvi put it into his pocket and then inspected the dead man’s curved knife. It was dull, the brittle metal of the southern forges. He tossed it to the ditch and then climbed into the cart to rummage through the baskets within. Dirty linens and empty sacks. In one bag he found a fine candle, and then many more wrapped in delicate cloth. He grabbed the entire bag, throwing a half-full wineskin inside of it as well. What was this Gallish huckster doing so far north, and why was he working with the Jomsborg swordsmen?

Jolvi stepped back to the ground and unbridled the horse from the wrecked cart. He cut the slave girl loose from the rope that tied her to the front rail, but left her hands lashed. She said nothing, quaking in terror like a cornered fawn. The merchant’s blood had splattered on her arm and shoulder. Her skin was soft, her hair fair. An Albionian. Unsure if she understood Norgeland words, he motioned for her to get onto the horse. She hesitated at first, but when he took a step towards her she quickly complied. He climbed up on top of the horse next, sitting in front of her, and drove the horse up the hill. He guided past the two highwaymen lying dead in the road where he had killed them. Jolvi reasoned that Trondheim was probably about ten leagues further south. Now with the horse he could make it there before nightfall.


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Last edited by J Miracle; 04-04-2018 at 08:27 PM.
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Old 04-04-2018, 03:19 PM
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Hrist
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Name: Hrist Haraldsdóttir
Race: Half-Elf
Class + Subclass: UA Revised Ranger
Background: Outlander
Alignment: Neutral
Chosen Diety: Forseti
Chosen city-state: Trondheim

Appearance: At a glance, Hrist might be taken for a young Norge woman, but upon a closer look it is clear that she is of mixed ancestry. The pointed ears are a dead giveaway, and her features possess an almost ethereal quality which sets her apart from the Norge amongst whom she was raised. Indeed, to many, it is hard to ignore the fact that there is something subtlety off, something distinctly not human, about her.

Personality (single paragraph): Reserved and serious, Hrist is the type of woman who does not seemed used to smiling. Hrist grew up feeling like a stranger within her own home, a bastard half-elf raised amongst humans. Many regarded the 'half-blood' with suspicion and scorn. Those that didn't saw her as little more than a curiosity, to be pointed out in the street and spoken of in hushed tones. Perhaps this is why she clings so desperately to her pride; everything she does is to prove her worth to a society that has always held her at a distance.

Positive Key event (single paragraph): Hrist was born the bastard daughter of King Harald of Jomsborg. She never knew the woman who had passed on her elven blood to her daughter, and King Harald - while not unkind - was distant and often absent from his daughter's life. Because of this, Hrist came to cherish those rare moments when her father could make time for her as it provided a small taste of a family she could never truly have. Growing up on stories of her father's exploits, Hrist knew how respected the man was. From a young age, she was determined to live up to that legacy. If could gain her own renown, perhaps she would be able to earn the pride and recognition of her father.

Negative Key event (single paragraph): Hrist was far from King Harald's only child though. The man had famously never taken a queen, but that had not stopped him from fathering many bastard children. This meant that there was something of an unofficial rivalry amongst Hrist's many brothers and sisters for their father's favour and attention. Unfortunately for her, one of the few things her half-siblings could be counted to agree upon was that the half-blood had no place amongst them. At first this simply meant ignoring her as best they could, but when Hrist was in her fifteenth winter, several of her siblings decided to take more a more proactive approach to remove the stain on their bloodline. They tricked her into accompanying them on a hunt and once they'd lured her out of the city, they attacked her, beat her and left the young woman for dead in the forest whilst claiming there had been a 'hunting accident' upon their return to the city.

Where did you acquire your talents (single paragraph): Hrist likely would have died in those wood that night, had an aging woodsman named Helgi not found her. He'd been alerted by the sounds of the attack. The old man brought Hrist to his home in the forest, where she was able to recover from her injuries. Realizing that she could not return to Jomsburg now that her own family wanted her dead, and with no where else to go, Hrist latched onto the first genuine kindness she'd been shown by someone besides her father. She stayed with Helgi, helping him where she could to repay him for saving her life. In time, the old man taught her the skills he'd gained from a lifetime as a woodsman: what to hunt and how to survive in the wild.

Why you joined the Jomsvikings (single paragraph): The years spent living in those woods were good ones, in contrast to the often empty and lonely years of her childhood, but she could not stay sequestered away in the wood for the rest of her life. And when Helgi's age finally caught up to him and he passed away, Hrist knew that there was nothing more to be found for her there in his home. But she could not return to Jomsborg. Not yet. In her heart she still carried that youthful dream, to be recognized as her father's daughter, but after what had been done to her, she knew that if she was ever to return to the city of her youth, it would not be until after she had achieved the renown she sought, when she was no longer weak enough to be so easily swept aside. But she would be back, and when that day came, those who had betrayed her and left her for dead would answer for their actions.


Roleplay Sample:
Hrist looked up from the trail, tilting her head to the side. After a brief wait, she heard it again. It was difficult to distinguish over the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves of the trees but now she was certain she was hearing waves. If she focused on it, she could just detect the smell of salt on the wind. It had taken her weeks of travelling through the forests, but it seemed she was finally near the shore. Looking around she found the largest of the trees nearby. She reached up to grab hold of a long hanging branch, and then with practiced ease she nimbly made her way up the tree until she was high enough that it allowed her to look out over the top of the forest. Night had fallen and the sliver of moon provided little in the way of illumination, but the dark had always been less of an issue for her: a gift of her mother's heritage, and one that Hrist had begrudgingly come to appreciate after years of living in the forests.

In the distance, she could make out the ocean, the soft moonlight shimmering off the waves. A strange fondness welled up inside within her chest. It had been years since she'd last looked upon the ocean directly. More important than indulging in nostalgia, now that she was up here she could also see how close she was to her destination. The great city Trondheim sat on the coast. Hrist could make out the flickering lights of candles burning in the windows of the homes. Hrist quickly gauged the distance, and determined that she could probably reach the city within a handful of hours if she kept a steady pace. Nodding in satisfaction to herself, she started down the tree. She was tired, but she'd come so far, and was so close. She could keep going a while longer.
About MeRealistic posting rate: 2-3/week.

Previous role playing experience: I've been a member of this site for nearly ten years, and have been playing various role playing games for a fair bit longer than that.

Number of forum games you're currently playing: Two, one as DM and one as a player.

Any other notes: 'Lo there do I see the line of my people, back to the beginning. 'Lo, they do call me, they bid me take my place among them, in the halls of Valhalla, where the brave may live forever.
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Old 04-05-2018, 12:21 PM
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Name: The Welsh girl’s name Siwan is a form of the English name Joan. It roughly means “God is gracious” and is pronounced 'Shoo An'.

Yeah it's Welsh, not Gaul. I'm still using it.
Siwan Freyasdottir
Race: Human (Variant)
Class + Subclass: A.K.A. ClericPriestess of Freya (Life Domain)
Background: Acolyte
Appearance: Siwan's skin is pale as the winter's snow, her hair is a beautiful pale gold, and her eyes are of the color blue of a clear deep frozen lake. She wear's the fur of a white wolf, gifted to her by one of Freya's faithful warrior-hunters.
Alignment: Neutral Good

Chosen Diety: Freya
Chosen city-state: Trondheim is the second most populated city of Norgeland and is ruled by the benevolent queen, Freya, an exceedingly rare half-elf. The city is famed throughout the known world for being a centre of learning and repository of knowledge. The great library of Trondheim attracts scholars from far and wide, even so far as the mysterious Jade Empire in the far east. Trondheim's mage guild is a centre of excellence for practitioners of the arcane. The city is known to produce advanced machinery for farming and industry along with items enchanted with magical power, fit for a variety of purposes.

Size: Small City
Population: 15,000
Races: Various
Ruler: Queen Freya of Trondheim
Imports: Grain, incense, pottery, precious metals, silk, wine
Exports: Machinery, magical artefacts
Trondheim

Personality: Siwan is passionate. She knows who she is, she knows her purpose in life, and she wants to live in service of Freya, and therefore in service of those who need Freya's love and grace. She knows she is still considered an outsider by some, and so is willing to work to prove that she truly belongs among the Jomsvikings.

Positive Key event: When Siwan was first brought to Trondheim, it was as a captive. One of many to be sold into slavery, for whatever purpose they saw fit. Unable to understand any of what these people said, Siwan was afraid for her life, and only saw a bleak future. But then she saw a vision of beauty and grace. The vision spoke to her, and she understood. The vision pointed her toward a woman who walked among her people, and as if under a spell, Siwan walked to the woman, bowing before her. "I am a gift of Freya." she said to the powerful woman. This is how she introduced herself to her future adoptive mother, Queen Freya of Trondheim.

Negative Key event: While it led to the Positive above, the fact that Siwan was taken forcefully from her village of Bayeux, of Northern Gaul, was more than a mite scary and quite negative. Even after her adoption, she endured years of training, suspicion, and even cruelty not only from her newfound people that she wished to live among and serve, but from the slaves who saw her as a traitor to her people, and worse.

Where did you acquire your talents: Siwan acquired most of her gifts from Freya, the Goddess herself. But she also learned many lessons from teachers and priestesses hired by her mother.

Why you joined the Jomsvikings: Siwan has served faithfully for many years now, and has joined a few warriors as they hunted for new resources, or defended the city-state from northern aggressors. And yet, there are still those who believe she belongs among the honored. She wishes to change that view by joining this dangerous expedition.

About you Me? What about me!?

Realistic posting rate: I can usually post 2-3 times a week.

Previous role playing experience:I've been Roleplaying for.... 24 years now? Started with Rifts, moved into White Wolf (mostly Street Fighter RPG and Vampire the Masquerade), then delved into AD&D and Cyberpunk, with many other gaming systems in between.

Number of forum games you're currently playing: Four.

Any other notes: I'm reliable, and if I must say so myself, I'm a good player as well. I play my character. I'm not out to win the game, I want to enjoy it and hopefully help others enjoy it as well.

Roleplay Sample: Siwan sat silently in the Temple of Freya, a young warrior's head lay upon her lap. He looked up to her again, and she smiled down upon him. "Shhh. You are blessed, Abjorn Johansson. The All-Father has seen your spirit, and he calls for you to join him in Valhalla." She gently brushes the hair from his eyes, to better look upon him, and he closes his eyes at her gentle touch.

Only yesterday this man was a boy. He was brought to her, to be healed. But Freya's blessing did not reach him. Odin had chosen him instead, for what reason Siwan could not hope to know, the Gods did not always share their wisdom with her. So she stayed with him, to comfort him until the Valkyries came to claim his spirit, and guide him to his new home. A nearby candle flickers, signalling the Valkyries arrival, and she leans forward to give him one last kiss, perhaps his first, as a parting gift.
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Old 04-05-2018, 06:43 PM
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Bjarki Gunnbjornsson
Character Details
Name: - Bjarki Gunnbjornsson
Race: - Goliath
Class + Subclass: - Warlock (Celestial)
Background: - Guild Artisan (Smiths and metal-forgers)
Appearance: -See image to the Right
right-aligned image

Alignment: - Lawful Neutral
Chosen Diety: - Thor
Chosen city-state: - Trondheim

Personality: - Bjarki loves his forge and the rhythmic ringing of hammering out imperfections in the iron to make the finest weapons and armor. This is reflected in his attitude towards society. He loves to use his hammers to pound out imperfections both amongst his enemies and his allies. He does not have friends. He sees everything through the eye of a smith, that is how it can be improved and perfected and made into a weapon or a shield.

Positive Key event: - Upon reaching Trondheim he was not well received being a Goliath from the wild mountain herds. He had a hard time finding work and was near starving when he fell faint, from hunger, in front of a blacksmiths shop. The strong man took him in and fed him till he had his strength back. When he was strong again, The Blacksmith named Skorri Holmfastsson demanded that he repay the debt by working in the forge. his great goliath strength would aid greatly. As he worked he also began to learn the trade of smithing, his strength allowing him to form even the hardest of substances to his will. Skorri gave him training and smithing gave him purpose that helped him to forget his past from time to time.

Negative Key event: Before coming to Trondheim from the mountains Bjarki had been betrothed to The most beautiful Goliath woman Asfrid, Daughter of the Chieftan, but while he was on a hunt with the chieftan and other warriors from his herd an accident had happened. The night was dark as it was a new moon and the hunters took no light with them. When Bjarki threw his hammer at the giant boar that they had been tracking a form rose up in between him and his mark. His throw had been true and hit the form square in the head. Without a sound the from crumpled. As he approached Bjarki saw that he had hit and killed the chieftan. Knowing that he would be killed for this even though it was an accident he never returned to the tribe and made his way down the mountain to Trondhiem. But not before making it look like the Boar had killed the chieftan. This act haunts him to this day especially the loss of his beloved.

Where did you acquire your talents: - Late one night when Bjarki had bee working late into to the night by candlelight. Lost in his thoughts the rhythmic ringing of his hammer drowning out all distractions. As the night grew late He finally finished his work and began to clean up. Turning he saw the Dwarf of legend Eitri sitting there watching him. Startled he did not have time to make a sound before Eitri spoke, "You are skilled Goliath, I have been watching you for a while now. And if you want I will teach you the ancient ways of the forge. I will give you power that you can imbue into weapons to make them stronger. Strong enough to win you the love of Asfrid." That is the day that Bjarki made his pact with the Dwarf of the upper planes and set him on the path of gaining more arcane knowledge to be able to forge weapons like his patron had. The very same that had made Mjöllnir for Thor.

Why you joined the Jomsvikings: - Bjarki had always provided the best of weapons to the Jomsvikings but since making his pact he felt the draw to seek out other sources of knowledge to aid him in truly perfecting his craft. So he joined the Jomsvikings to seek out new lands and new knowledge and new treasures that he might forge into a great weapon worthy of delivering him from his past.

About you

Realistic posting rate: - I can post during the week but rarely post on weekends
Previous role-playing experience: - I GM two home games and have played in 2 games and am currently playing in 2 games on the forum
Number of forum games you're currently playing: - 2
Any other notes: - I will update any time something comes up
Roleplay Sample: - He had not trained in combat since leaving his herde in the mountains, and this first training bout since joining up with the Jomsvikings had him breathing heavily. "You are slow smith, though your swing is fast. Are you sure you are up for this adventure?" taunted his training companion. Bjarki smiled as he felt the muscle memory slowly began to return

As the two battled each only landing glancing blows Bjarki saw an opening and took it. With a mighty swing of his hammer, he leveled his opponent. The gathered onlookers cheered. Getting up from the ground his opponent confessed, "Ah that smarts, alas, seems I was wrong about you. You will make a fine member of the Jomsvikings. Welcome to the brotherhood Bjarki"

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Old 07-13-2018, 11:53 AM
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Very Old Dragon
 
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Last Visit: 08-20-2018
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Name: Asvig Longthews
Race: Human (Variant)
Class + Subclass: Paladin (Oath of the Crown)
Background: Knight of the Order
Appearance: Asvig is a slightly older warrior for an initiate, starting out on his third decade. His face bears the weathering of several seasons, his skin bears the scars of several battles, and his eyes bear the weight of many lost comrades. He wears long plaits in his platinum blonde hair and beard. Across his right eye there is a particularly deep cut, now long healed, but it looks like it nearly cost him his sight.
Alignment: Lawful Good
Chosen Diety: Tyr
Chosen city-state: Trondheim
Personality: Asvig is a deeply dedicated man, prone to losing himself in a singular cause until it is driven out by the next focus. He smiles seldom, and speaks softly, but he listens well. He makes sure to get to know his comrades, their needs and wants, so that he can better aid them. His quiet words of respect and compliments often ring truer than the loudest cheers.


Positive Key event:
The pain throbbing in my head was intense. I could only open one eye, the other held shut by sticky blood... my own. I could see the sky above through my left eye and then a woman's head came into view. A spray of blood ran across her nose like freckles and her mouth quirked up at the side where a sword had split her lip years ago. She was beautiful. Stunned by the vision in front of me, I whispered quietly, "So I have fallen in battle, and a Valkyrie has come to take me to Valhalla."

Sigrid Ranirsdotter rocked back on her heels and laughed sharply. "Longthews! You missed your calling as a stablehand, given the amount you can shovel." She fell quiet again for a moment and looked around. "We got six of the Jomsborgers trying to come round from the west, and drove off the rest. It looks like you accounted for three yourself here?"

My head swam as I tried to remember where I was and the battle I had apparently won. "I only saw the two at first. But there was a third one, the one with the axe..." I raised a hand tentatively to my head, and Sigrid caught it in her own before I could touch the wound.

"No." The word was soft, but firm. "The priest had a look at you and thinks you'll keep the eye. But no touching." I winced at the memory, and the other wounds now reminding me of their presence. In a moment of stupidity, I attempted to sit up, but couldn't even bend my left leg. Sigrid continued, "I think the last one, the big one, fell on you. Knee got twisted pretty bad. You're getting slow in your old age."

I laughed wryly to myself. "Perhaps it's time for me to settle down and raise the next generation." It had been a idle thought in my head for a few years now, and this fight had been close, far too close.

Sigrid gave me an odd look. "Wouldn't that require some damn fool woman to agree to marry you? Where are you going to find someone with that little sense in her head?"

I looked down to where she still held my hand in hers and then back up to her eyes. "...You never know."


Negative Key event:
"Have you heard the omens, boy?" The door opened letting the daylight into a darkened room otherwise lit only by a single candle.

The words slowly penetrated my mind and I lifted my head up slowly to see who was speaking. I was vaguely aware of my drool sticking my face to the table where it had been laying as I blinked in the sudden light. "Who... Uncle Durgan? Omens? What?" The thoughts struggled to organize themselves in the slush that was my brain. It was two years since I had stood among a field of flowers with Sigrid Ranirsdotter and we had exchanged our oaths. It was two weeks since Sigrid Asvigswyf had died in childbirth along with our unborn son. As the memories came back to me, I reached once more for the jug of mead on the table, hoping it wasn't empty.

With a grunt of disgust, my uncle stomped into the room and snatched the jug from my feeble grasp. I looked up at the wizened former warrior. When had he gotten so old? "She's gone.", he said bluntly. That was Uncle Durgan alright, always a soft hand. "She's gone and this", he shook the jug just out of my reach, "will not bring her back, boy. Now, have you heard the omens?" I blinked sullenly at the man, confusion evident on my face. "Odin's tits, boy! Albion! Surtur has granted the queen a vision. The Norge sail for battle, and we need to make sure Trondheim is victorious. Eric's girl is still too green. You will represent the clan in this matter."

The fog in my mind was beginning to burn away from the heat of my anger. "I can't fight, I can barely walk!" I gestured to my leg. True to the priest's words, I had kept the eye, but my knee had never quite recovered from my last fight. The next words came out as a growl. "And stop calling me `boy`!"

"You still think yourself a man?" Uncle Durgan's expression wavered between pity and disgust before settling back into his own cold anger. "Prove it." With a speed and strength that belied his age, he swept my stool out from under me, dropping me to the floor with a pained grunt. I lay on my back, stunned and winded as he leaned over me. "I trained you to fight once, boy. I'll do it again."


Where did you acquire your talents: For as long as Trondheim has been a city, there have been warriors pledged to its service and to its queens. One particular family is proud of being able to trace its lineage back to one of those first warriors. Sons trained by fathers, uncles or brothers. Each serving their city as best they can, and then passing on their knowledge to the next generation. Asvig's father died before his son could lift a spear, so his brother, Asvig's youngest uncle was entrusted with training a boy to be a warrior, dedicated to the city that has been their families home for generations.

Why you joined the Jomsvikings: For years, Asvig fought skirmishes against raiders from Jomsborg as they plagued the outlying farmlands. He served Trondheim well and made its defense his life. Then he fell in love and settled down, only to have it end in tragedy. He secretly wonders if the gods are punishing him for abandoning his cause too soon. Now, with nothing left but his oath, he has rededicated himself to his city and to the gods. Albion and all its treasures await the glory of Trondheim. It is time to go viking.

About you

Realistic posting rate: I try to post within 24 hours of anything that requires my attention, but I post mostly on weekdays. I can still post on most weekends, but if a new post/round went up late on Friday and I have a busy weekend, it could conceivably be three days between posts.
Previous role playing experience: I've been playing D&D in one form or another for about 25 years. Almost always as a player, occassionally as a DM.
Number of forum games you're currently playing: 5
Any other notes: Nothing coming up.

Roleplay Sample:
Asvig is somewhat hesitant as he picks up his spear for the first time in months. Despite his neglect of the weapon, it still felt at home in his hands, the wood polished smooth by years of use. He spun it through a few maneuvers, fighting battles in his mind. A sudden lunge to catch an imaginary foe didn't go so well as his leg caught halfway through the move. Wincing, and rubbing at the knee, he avoided the temptation to lean on the spear's haft. This, too, was something he had neglected. Perhaps it would have healed better if he used it more in those early months. Now he would never be as fast as he had been. He needed to account for that.

His eyes are drawn to the bench in the corner where Uncle Durgan has left a gift. A suit of chain mail taken from a Jomsborg warrior. Not ideal for tracking raiders across farmland, not ideal for sailing across the straits to Albion, but ideal for a man who can no longer get out of the way of an enemy's weapon. `Better start getting used to the weight` Doffing his leather hauberk, Asvig struggles to get into the heavier armor, but far too proud to ask his Uncle for assistance. Eventually all is in place, weight distributed across the shoulders, links hanging down to protect his legs. Taking up his spear and shield once more, Asvig heads out into the fields, breaking into a slow jog and ignoring the pain in his knee as he ties to get used to his new old life.

Stat BlockAsvig Longthews | Paladin of the Crown | Level 3

HP: 31/31 | AC: 9 | PP: 11 | Speed: 30ft

Stats: Str 14 (+2), Dex 8 (-1), Con 16 (+3), Int 10 (+0), Wis 12 (+1), Cha 14 (+2)

Languages: Common, Dwarven, Halfling

Equipment:

Feat:
  • +1 to attack rolls with spear
  • Increase spears dmg dice to 1d8 (1d10 versatile)
  • Bonus Action: Increase reach with a spear by 5 feet for the rest of turn
  • Set spear to receive charge (Bonus Action): Choose a creature you can see within 20 ft. If that creature moves within your spear’s reach on its next turn, make a melee attack against it with your spear as a reaction. On hit, increase dmg by 1d8/1d10. Cannot use this ability if the creature uses Disengage before moving.
Spear Mastery | You receive shelter and succor from members of your knightly order and those who are sympathetic to its aims. If your order is a religious one, you can gain aid from temples and other religious communities of your deity. Knights of civic orders can get help from the community- whether a lone settlement or a great nation that they serve, and knights of philosophical orders can find help from those they have aided in pursuit of their ideals, and those who share those ideals. This help comes in the form of shelter and meals, and healing when appropriate, as well as occasionally risky assistance, such as a band of local citizens rallying to aid a sorely pressed knight in a fight, or those who support the order helping to smuggle a knight out of town when he or she is being hunted unjustly.Knightly Regard | Dueling: When you are wielding a melee weapon in one hand and no other weapons, you gain a +2 bonus to damage rolls with that weapon.Fighting Style | On melee hit, spend spell slot for extra radiant damage. (Slot Level +1)d8. Add 1d8 vs. undead / fiends.Divine Smite | Immune to disease.Divine Health

 

Last edited by hafrogman; 07-14-2018 at 09:44 AM.
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Old 07-14-2018, 01:36 PM
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Ysolde Ysolde is offline
Pony Princess
 
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Posts: 4,517
Name: Arvendalla Rhys'shyyr
Race: Elf
Class + Subclass: Bard School of Lore
Background: Arvendalla was born 250 years ago living her life among her elven clan, learning their songs and stories. She spent most of her young life there living with her people, learning numerous instruments and song styles to entertain. Her time with her clan came to an end long ago when she was barely even ninety when she was captured by a group of slavers and taken far, far away.

At first she lived in Trondheim as a Thrall, but time passed for others in ways that it did not for her. She was freed and went to work in the Inn singing her songs and learning new tales to tell. She has lived in the city since it was barely a village and watched it grow even as she has waited to hear some tale, some snippet about her people.

Appearance:
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Arvendalla is 5’ 6” tall and is amazingly lithe and well proportioned. Her raven black hair compliments her blue eyes spectacularly and her pale Elven features give her an air of the exotic. Her voice is a sweet mezzo-soprano tending towards soprano and when she sings it is a thing of true beauty. When you come close to her you would smell a hint of rose and sandalwood. She is usually seen in one of three outfit types: A stunningly gorgeous dress she wears for special occasions and important performances. Second, a pretty blouse and long skirt combination she wears when she is out and about on her way. Finally, she would wear armor when traveling

Alignment: NG
Chosen Diety: Frigga
Chosen city-state: Trondheim

Personality: Arvendalla is friendly and outgoing. She understands and respects all races and people. She often sings songs or tells tales to entertain people and finds joy in that. Despite that there is always a hint of sadness and loss in her eyes, a hint that she never speaks about.

Positive Key event: Master Thorson comes in and bids her to rise. She nods and follows him into the main hall. There she can see a large assembly of locals and friends. People she knows one and all. In front of them Master Thorson bids her to kneel. he follows his orders and then takes her collar from her neck and speaks to the assembled crowd. "Rise, now Arvendalla Rhys'Shyr rise as a Freewoman."

Negative Key event: She gently places a cold wet cloth on the elderly forehead. The heat is incredible and the woman's breathing is labored. She knows that this time her daughter will not survive the sickness, knows that these moments will be the last she has. Crystal blue eyes look up at her for the last time and her daughter whispers, "I see it mother Fólkvangr. Freya's garden is calling to me." She replies "Go then my daughter, help tend the flowers and wait there for me." A smile and a final rattling breath then her daughter is gone the last she knows of her line all taken by this damned disease.

Where did you acquire your talents: Arvendalla aquired her talents first from her people. Learning the beginning core of her class as a young girl. Over time she has slowly gained skills and ability from the local mage guild learning bits of lore and building her talents over long centuries.

Why you joined the Jomsvikings: Arvendalla has joined the Jomsvikings because she has lost the last of her family line. There are no children or grandchildren left from her daughter born so long ago and so she does not worry if she perishes in combat or how. She also holds some hope that she can return with enough glory and gold to speak with the Queen and hopefully find out something about her people if they even exist anymore...

About you
Realistic posting rate: 4-5/week
Previous role playing experience: I've been role playing for a pretty long time now. I've played D&D since first edition and all the way through to 5th edition. I've played Starwars, Battletech, Cthulu, Shadowrun, and many more.
Number of forum games you're currently playing: DMing 3 and Playing in 4 (was 6 but two just ended)
Any other notes: Not that I can think of at the moment, but Candle....just so I remember to put it here somewhere...
Roleplay Sample: Time was so often her enemy, but not like this. Usually time went by and people she knew grew older. Usually the days passed into months and then years and suddenly the young girl she had once played with was now dying of old age or disease maybe they would be marching off to fight and die. Even so it was always in the relentless march of years that time was her enemy, but not this night. No, this night it was in the blurring of mere seconds that time became her enemy. People had died or were dying even as she fought to heal them or swung her sword against their attackers.

Even so, if there is a single word that describes Arvendalla in combat it would be graceful, even with the rain pelting down on her and making her nightclothes near see through, even with blood on her arms from scratches she embodies the terms grace and elegance. That same grace and elegance is combined with years of experience and wisdom, so when she notes that her magic had indeed damaged the creatures she knows what she will do next. Ignoring those same scratches were on her arms and bloody trails gouged in her skin, that make her white shift turn reddish pink in the rain, she uses her sword and shield to defend herself even as she continued her song. Then, she takes a five foot step back and releases a burst of sound into the forces arrayed against her.

Last edited by Ysolde; 07-14-2018 at 01:38 PM.
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