[Characters] Round 0 - Pathfinder applications

[Wynamoinen]

Prologue You, a great power of the realm, have finally caught a few days of downtime. With all the tombs to plunder, demons to subdue, and ransoms to free, you can barely catch a free moment! One day, a vision appears before your eyes. A robed figure with a bald head, long thin mustache, and piercing eyes appears before you. He floats above the ground in a shimmering haze. You're no rank amateur; you know a mage's ostentatious messaging when you see it. You let the experience wash over you. He speaks in a confident nasally tone: "Greetings! You surely know who I am: the arch-mage Rostamoinen, first among equals at the Square of Nine. I am contacting you because I see a potential within you. I refer not to the beliefs you hold deep in your heart nor your moral compass. I seek those beyond simplified concepts of good, evil, law and chaos. "The Nine seek another! We are the greatest caretakers of this world," he says without a hint of modesty, "and we have an opening. We had hoped that the great Labyrinth last year would have produced a worthy individual. Instead, it produced ruin, chaos, and self-aggrandizement. Now we try again. There in the bowels of the collapsed Labyrinth is door. The unworthy treasure-seekers last year did not find it. Those who reach the door will be the greatest candidates to join the Nine. They will sit at my side and influence the fate of the world. Combined with the ability of the other eight members of the Square Table, you will be able to stand up against beings of near omnipotent power. I think you may have the capacity to rightly maintain the alignment of the cosmos against such threats. "If you agree, then you must show me. You must reach the Labyrinth with all speed. Others from around the world have been summoned. They will strive to arrive more quickly, and with grander laurels. If you would join me, do not let them outshine you. In two days, meet at The Gate. There you will meet one of my colleagues, who will guide you to your fate." The shimmering vision flickers and vanishes. You know exactly The Gate he mentioned. This seems like an opportunity too good to pass up. You head towards the gate.

Application rules Starting level is level 8. Characters start with 20 ability points which may be distributed as per this chart, with the exception that no ability score may be below 8 before racial modifiers. Use max hit points at first level and roll each level after that (rolls are to be in your character application post). Starting gold is 33,000 and no more than 16,500 may be spent on any one item. For enchanted weapons and armor (+1, +2, etc), you must pay for both the base mundane price PLUS the price of the magical bonus You are limited to 3000 gp worth of 'one use' items, including scrolls, potions and one shot miscellaneous magic items. You may not have more than 8 total one use items, When building your character, you must restrict your content to the CRB and ONE of the following books - Advanced Class Guide, Advanced Players Guide, Ultimate Equipment or the Ultimate Magic guides. Please state which of these other books you use, if any. Use the RPGX official character sheet when building your character, and provide a link in your application. Make sure your name does not appear anywhere on the sheet. Be as clear as you can within that sheet about all calculations, including ability scores, skill ratings, and gold spending. Familiars and Animal Companions are allowed as per the standard rules, but other NPCs are not allowed, including eidelons, cohorts/followers from the leadership feat and any other non player character Your application should be anonymized. When you post your application, please put it under BOTH a spoiler tag AND a secret tag   [SPOILERBUTTON="my clever spoiler label"][SECRET="outplay judges"]<INSERT ENTIRE APPLICATION HERE>[/SECRET][/SPOILERBUTTON] There is a MAXIMUM length of 1000 This excludes and BBcode mark-up, but DOES include any and all visible text in the applicationwords. Images are not required, but may be included. Please keep them to a reasonable size, if you include any. Musical selections will likely not be considered by the judges. Your character write-up should provide: A backstory A role-play sample of what your character is doing when they receive the above summons (and how they react). Every application must choose which of the four corners of the world you start from. State where you start near the top of your application, by name/class/race. You will begin at either... The Frozen Gate of the North, found at the edge of the frigid homelands of the primitive human hunter society of Kryygsstaan, or The Granite Gate of the East, found at the foot of the mountain homelands of the dwarven nation of Hammerfall, or The Life Gate of the West, found deep in the lush forest home of the elven nation of Tyndanael, or The Free Gate of the South, found at the mouth of the Leeway Pass, passage to the Free States where Dragonborn, goblin, and other 'monstrous' nations are able to hold in relative peace and prosperity. (Note that any class and any race can start at any gate. Your race, class, and backstory should put you near one or the other.) Applications close on Friday June 28th at 6pm EST. You may freely edit your submission up to that due date. Any edits after that time will result in disqualification.

Errata 1.1 If you select the Nobility Domain, in place of leadership you receive the Persuasive feat. If you would receive the feat Scribe Scroll as a bonus feat, you receive Spell Focus instead. As a cleric, if your deity’s favored weapon is unarmed strike you receive Improved Unarmed Strike as a bonus feat. If you receive a bonded object, only items listed in Pathfinder RPG Core Rulebook or your additional source are available. If you select a bonded object that is magical, ie Ring of Invisibility, you must pay the full price at character creation for that item, ie 20,000 gp. Alchemist's Brew Potion class ability is replaced with the Extra Bombs feat. You may not select any item crafting feat. The Fetish hex replaces Craft Wondrous Item with Spell Focus. Witches may not select the cauldron hex. Starting gold is 33,000 and no more than 16,500 may be spent on any one item. For enchanted weapons and armor (+1, +2, etc), you must pay for both the base mundane price PLUS the price of the magical bonus. All items must be purchased at full price and no item creation feats may be used. No item may be used prior to the start of the game. For example, if you wish to copy a scroll into your spellbook you must follow the normal rules to do so after play has been initiated. Items must be purchased at full value. You can’t buy broken weapons or armor or partially charged wands, rods, or staves. Ammunition must be purchased in full lots (typically 10, 20 or 50).

[Antipode]

Basics Name: Leïze Deltarn Race: Human Class: Ranger [Guide, Skirmisher] 5 / Fighter [Polearm Master] 2 / Horizon Walker 1 Source: Advanced Player's Guide Sheet: Here

Appearance Still in his twenties, Leïze looks more like a man pushing forty. His has been a life hard lived. His arms have more scars than most orcs, and he seems weathered somehow. But there’s not a hint of gray in his black hair. So that’s something.

Write-up The archmage's ethereal image spoke of standing up to nigh-omnipotent opponents, of maintaining the alignment of the cosmos. Leïze chuckled and shook his head. "I think you've got the wrong man there. I'm not really a..." But the image, its message delivered, was already gone. "Not really a hero." "If you don't get something out of these studies, you won't end up a hero, or an adventurer. You can't be anything anymore without some sort of magic!" Leïze's father tried not to raise his voice in exasperation. "Hell, even old Dambric got the druids to teach him enough to help tend his crops. And he's just a farmer! A peasant!" Behind him, the young boy shrugged. All around him was a dizzying array of papers and scrolls. Some bore arcane formulae, other exultations and oblations to a dozen gods or more. After months of study, there still wasn't a single page, a single diagram, which made any sense to him. In the next room, his mother was quietly crying. "Are you sure none of this calls to you? Your mother and I, we're not archmages or anything, but we still had our expectations..." His father continued talking, but Leïze wasn't really listening anymore. It didn't take any kind of magic to know that this conversation would always be the same. Leïze sat back down, and poured himself something to drink as he tried to imagine why some unpronounceable archmage would deem him a candidate for his world-guiding Square Table. He'd traveled with a dozen people who would surely be a better pick, just off the top of his head. That elf evoker he'd escorted into the Yawning Maw... well, perhaps not him, unless beings of near omnipotent power were still flammable. The weird little gnome with his summoned snake-thing. That bird creature, who didn't even go in the dungeon after she had some sort of oracular vision, but paid him anyway in foreign coin. And that didn't even start with the clerics; Rostamoinen could have had his pick of them. Maybe that one I helped at the Black Shaft, he mused. Pretty sure he literally had angel blood. "Look, Leïze..." There was no finer tracker and huntsman than Master Thibault of the Green Order, but clearly what he had to say made him uncomfortable. "We're all really proud of what you've accomplished here, with the Order. I mean, you left home with the clothes on your back, and now look at you! I think you're already our best cavern guide, and the really good years are still ahead of you!" Leïze brushed the side of his head. "The ones where my hair goes gray?" he joked. But there wasn't much laughter in the tone of his voice; he could guess where this was going. "Funny, pup," Thibault cracked a smile despite himself. "And your combat training with that polearm? I mean, you're a wizard with... that thing..." He trailed off, betrayed by his own choice of words. "Look, Leïze, I'm real sorry about that, it's just..." The elder tracker sighed. "There's more to being a ranger than knowing the land and wielding a weapon. You've trained as a cavern guide, and we've got nothing but respect for that. Really we do. But think what sort of guide you'd be if you could patch the wounded up with a word. Think what that weeding iron would do to some dungeon beast if you put the weight of lead blades behind it. The Order has certain expectations." With a solemn nod, Leïze began to mentally catalog which of his possessions would be worth their weight for life on the road ahead. "Good luck, Leïze," Thibault said sadly as he turned to leave. "It's a magical world out there, and all we can do is try to keep pace." "It's a magical world out there," Leïze echoed his old master. He downed a swig of ale and scowled that its low cost came with a corresponding quality. But a thought, unbidden, sprang to mind. It is a magical world out there. And all those other people who would have been "better" choices -- all those clerics and wizards and oracles and inquisitors and whatever that gnome was -- they were all bound up in that magic. "But I'm not," he whispered aloud. Sure, his blade had been enchanted, and he'd chug a potion from time to time... but none of that was within him, not even understanding enough to wrest a cantrip from a wand. Whenever he took a contract to lead a group of explorers to some misbegotten cavern, whenever he helped escort a cleric through a crumbling dungeon to recover the body of fellow adventurers, he did it all without any magic of his own. Did that make him a hero? But Rostamoinen hadn't asked for heroes. He'd asked for someone worthy, someone to bring alignment to the world. Because the world is out of alignment, he concluded with startling realization. Because it's a magical world out there. The Free Gate of the South was nearest. The monsters' homeland was full of abandoned mines and forgotten crypts; he'd escorted a lot of clerics on corpse retrieval runs there. In his haste to prepare, he knocked over his tankard. The smell of abandoned ale would be haunting if he lived to return to this room, but there wasn't time to tidy up. The Free Gate was a long two days away on foot. And wizards can fly.

Rolls HP: Dice ranger (4): 4d10 1, 1, 3, 9 Total = 14 (14), Dice fighter (2): 2d10 5, 8 Total = 13 (13), Dice horizon walker (1): 1d10 4 (4)

Completed

Application Reviewed and confirmed. Please do not edit this application or make any changes to your character sheet any time until the end of the competion.

[Yuul]

Application Complete!

Aurelia Sigurdsdóttir, Witch Name: Aurelia Sigurdsdóttir link Race: Human Class: Witch Starting Gate: The Frozen Gate of the North Sources: CRB and APG Appearance: A youngish early-mid twenties woman with long black hair braided with implements of ivory hailing from her mother's southern heritage fused with the pale complexion and crystal blue eyes, so often alight with mischievous curiosity, of her father's northern folk. Normally clothes herself in practicality minded thick fur-lined garments to ward of the northern chill rather than wasting precious magic on the effort. Those same clothes usually also conceal the slim willowy nature of her build that takes after her mother, but alas hiding none of her shorter than average stature much to the girl's chagrin. Typically in the company of her snow owl familiar, who is in turn normally nagging the girl about one thing or another. Backstory: The only child of Sigurdur, a northern man who made a career of adventuring in the south, and Claudia, a mage he met on his journeys and eventually wooed into returning to his homeland with him, Aurelia was born, raised, and spent nearly all of her life in one part of Kryygsstaan or another. As the only child of two successful adventurers, the witch to be did not want for much of anything growing up in the frigid climate of her father's people. In truth, she was at least somewhat spoiled in the way a well loved only child can be, and has a hard time with judging the material value of things as a result. If one were to ask those that knew her as a small child what stood out the most in her personality, they would find a fairly even split between the girl's rather dangerous curiosity and her playful prank playing personality. With this in mind, it was not much surprise to either parent that she took after her mother's affinity for magic over her father's skill at arms, even if the method of learning and practice was more in line with her northern homeland. She met the owl Archimedes that would be her companion and guide when she was only seven, and the poor bird has done his best to keep her cat-like curiosity from getting her killed ever since, even when his often cautionary advice is typically ignored to be reaffirmed with 'I told you so's' at a later date when it inevitably catches up with the young witch. As she grew older and was being groomed for the eventuality of the being the magic woman of her village, often in spite of the inhabitants normally fretting over her thus far implicit refusal to grow out of her child-like immaturity and the dangerous life threatening curiosity satisfying romps through nearby locales alongside the various warrior youths from the village and rare southron visitor, Aurelia's particular proclivity for playful pranking became something of a known and tolerably endured nuisance as magic began to be added into the mix. It is not to say her parents never tried to curb these habits, as they did, but eventually like the rest mostly gave up on the ordeal roughly by the time adulthood came around with her mother making the remark that their daughter's inherited stubborn nature, from her father of course, was to blame. Something her father did not even try to refute by that point. Even now, years later and grown into both her spellcraft and being, Aurelia is still much the same as was when living as a small child, just with the added importance of being the local rising star when it comes to adventuring or dealing with nearby dangerous threats. The latter of course only after finding someway to stick her curious nose right into the aforementioned danger's 'face' and nearly getting killed by it. The most noteworthy event in which she took part in involved dealing with a youngish white dragon that had taken to threatening the livestock of the region as part of plan to bring the various villages to heel beneath its shadow. Roleplay Sample The ostentatious message had not even finished fading when Aurelia was jumping excitedly and moving about her home in fit of panicked packing that did the job of waking her nocturnal companion where the message had failed. Probably had something to do with her knocking over the stand on which Archimedes normally took to roosting. "What on earth are you doing now? I was having such a delightful dream!" Said the owl in the form of communication only the witch and her familiar had access to. "I've been summoned to the Gate! Oh this is great, amazing, no, TERRIFIC!" Was the response that Aurelia blurted out in a blur amidst her mad dash through her modest sized home that almost seemed determined to make up for its size with the number of shiny baubles and magical nick knacks that cluttered every visible surface aside from the ceiling. "That's DANGEROUS! You cannot simply run off on some sort of errand of this nature! Why what if-" But by now Aurelia was hardly paying any attention to the owl as she quite literally now took to flying about the interior in order to somehow pick up her packing pace even further and avoid tripping upon the mess of a floor whilst her trademark selective hearing continued to ignore her companion and she herself continued rambling in excited childlike glee at the whole thing. As one might imagine, this resulted in the duo somehow managing to have two entirely different one sided conversations with their partner at the same time. Anyone passing near enough to overhear would just sigh at the whole thing and proclaim it to be business as usual.   Dice Roll: d6 3 d6 6 d6 6 d6 4 d6 5 d6 4 d6 6

Approved.

[Gaijin]

Don't worry, 2018 was just calibration...

Dr. Alexander Drudge Human Male 33 Investigator The Life Gate of the West

A dimly lit room. An unused bed. Stacks of yellowed notes scattered about. A dark-haired corpse deposited limply in front of a writing desk; its cigarette still hot enough to burn a small hole through unwashed trousers... Whatever happened here must have concluded just moments ago. Was it murder? Suicide? Perhaps just an alcoholic who will never need to worry about another unpaid tab... Lips curl at the smell of body odor accented by singed clothing and flesh. Filth... ”Ehh!?” Alex opens his eyes in a start and reflexively takes a step away from the intrusion. ”Aieeee...” His chair rocks over backward, sending him sprawling across the floor. As the port-induced fog lifts, it becomes clear that he had fallen asleep while working. Looking around the room, he recognizes the notes, bed, and mold as his own. The corpse... himself. His poor diet and vices have done him no favors. When the butt of a cigarette rolls through his peripheral, he doesn't bother to look down. It is clear from the pain of his thigh that he would need to replace yet another pair of pants. Sigh... Labyrinth!? The vacant look of an inebriant cracks and is replaced with a gaze intense enough to bore a hole through a man of weaker will. The phantasm before him is both unphased and undeterred as it continues its energetic monologue. Alexander's mind races to reconstruct what had already been said, concatenating key details with the words that follow. Rostamoinen... Square of Nine... opening... Labyrinth... worthy... door... join the nine... omnipotent power... … The Gate... The disappearance of the vision passes unnoticed. Dr. Alexander Drudge's eyes are transfixed upon some point within the heavens, millions of miles away. This is it. This is my chance. Years of searching, and, in the end, the answer simply presents itself to me. His arm reaches around blindly until it finds a small silver case. Tapping its edge gently against the floor, the case pops open, spilling a dozen or so sticks of freshly rolled tobacco. Taking one to his lips, it sparks and crackles as it self-ignites. Within a single long, slow draw half of the caustic contrivance converts to lung scaring vapor. Cough... His hand takes the cigarette and holds it aloft. Its smoke rises delicately, unmoved by, and unaware of, the inescapable obsession that haunts the investigator. I'm going to find it, win, and tear the whole FrolickingWe're all Family Friendly here.* system down...

Dr. Alexander Drudge is a brilliant and deeply troubled man, as such protagonists often are. Something about the world just isn't right, and he seems to be the only one who cares. Magic!? Monsters!? Gods and Demons!? How can an existence like this even be real? If only he could dig deep enough to find the answers he seeks. However, no matter how strong he gets, or how far he travels, obstacles seem to arise from nothing to block him, as though he were the subject of some tragic narrative that was never meant to be satisfied. Maybe this... invitation.. to the Square of Nine would give him the release that he so desperately seeks. Omnipotence and omniscience; a chance to pierce the veil.

 

Notes: For Reskinning purposes, consumables such as elixirs, potions, and tokens will take the form of tobacco where appropriate.
The Investigator's pipe and Silver case are being merged into an equivalent favor item.

Other Notes: Added Character Sheet hyperlink to name near top of application.
Added Favored Class bonus.

Hitpoints:
8+

Dice Level 2:

d8

7

(7)+

Dice Level 3:

d8

8

(8)+

Dice Level 4:

d8

4

(4)+

Dice Level 5:

d8

5

(5)+

Dice Level 6:

d8

5

(5)+

Dice Level 7:

d8

6

(6)+

Dice Level 8:

d8

6

(6) = 49

Application Status: In Progress | Rough Draft | Review | Complete

Application Reviewed and confirmed. Please do not edit this application or make any changes to your character sheet any time until the end of the competion.

[Scimmy]

COMPLETE

The image spoke grandiose hopes and challenges, but unfortunately the old man it was meant for was fast asleep. Fortunately, the bearded little imp was not. He watches the image for a moment, vibrating with excitement then bursts out, “It’s time it’s time it’s time it’s time…” The imp continues to repeat the phrase and lands on the long white beard of the man sitting on a cushion seemingly on the floor. “Wake up old man!” The little imp’s shrill voice echoed in the small hut they had called home for several decades now, “Time to pay your debt! All power comes with a price!” The little thing tugged on the old man’s beard hard and finally, some life began to seep in. “Oh shut up little mongrel,” the voice was strong despite his advanced age, “I know my promises.” Bargains for power were nothing new in the world, and Zephaniah had gotten full use of his power, and for a time he thought he might die before having to fulfill his end, but the gods had a cruel sense of humor.

---

A necromancer had rampaged through his village, and Zephaniah had no way to resist. His family and most of the village was slaughtered, Zephaniah had only survived because his house was collapsed on top of him, but that didn’t stop the blood of his slaughtered loved ones from dripping down onto him. Indeed, his mind nearly broke under the strain of listening to them beg for their lives and weep, but he found a spark of anger that flared to life within him. He cried out demanding justice or begging for the power to bring it himself, but no one answered. For five days he lay pinned until he heard some scrabbling and sniffing. A small red form appeared in the dying light, picking through the rubble.

“Please…” Zephaniah croaked out, “please….” The darkness overtook him and he dreamed. He dreamed of a place of blood and screams, an indescribable creature stood before him muttering strange words that burned into his soul and somehow he understood them. Power and knowledge for a favor later. He was blind with hunger and rage and he agreed. He awoke still pinned but clutching a book of pale leather that called to him. This, this was the key to his revenge! He read the book eagerly and felt the power. He would lay waste to the creature who had done this to him and then he could rest.

---

With bleary eyes he reached one shaky hand to the side and grabbed a slim book of pale leather and placed it on the stand in front of him. He rested a few minutes from the strain of even that small bit of effort, not a good sign for the upcoming trial. “Go gather the supplies while I prep, Lapkris.” The little imp sighed and flew off grabbing items and securing them to their places around Zephaniah. His potential incapacitation was anticipated and thus this special cart was readied. The book wasn’t large for an arcane text, most wizards would find it downright anemic, but for Zephaniah’s purposes, he was downright spoiled for choices. In no time he had mentally prepared himself and his hands absently stroked the items they had collected over the last few years in preparation. Wands, potions, scrolls, and various items of power all in their proper places, though part of him wished he had prepared a change of clothes, the old and layered robes were dated and tattering at the edges despite the minimal movement he had made the last few years.

With a bray, Lapkris led the donkey in and started putting the harness on. The impudent imp was keeping his voice down but Zephaniah heard his mumbling and complaining. His dislike of his service was not well hidden, but he was still a good familiar, and Zephaniah felt that at least some of his anger was directed inward. Regardless, Lapkris finished the prep work and settle onto the seat made for him. “Ready to go die manling?” Zephaniah might be going senile but he thought he detected a hint of humor and maybe regret? He closed his spellbook and gestured to the reins which snapped and started the donkey moving forward. He enjoyed the beauty of the elven forest one last time as he went to his agreed upon last task.

-Zephaniah

 

Stat	Total	Point Buy	Human	Age	Level 4/8	Items
Strength	2	8	-	-6	-
Dexterity	2	8	-	-6	-
Constitution	8	14	-	-6	-
Intelligence	26	17	+2	+3	1/1	+2
Wisdom	16	13	-	+3	-
Charisma	16	13	-	+3	-

Items
Wands	Cost	Potion	Cost	Scroll	Cost	Wondrous	Cost
Silent Image	750	Cure Light	50	Resilient Sphere	700	Feather Token (Tree)	400
Invisibility	4,500	Cure Light	50	Dimension Door	700	Feather Token (Whip)	500
Floating Disk (CL3)	2,260	Cure Mod	300	-	-	Pearl of Power lvl 1	1,000
-	-	-	-	-	-	Pearl of Power lvl 1	1,000
-	-	-	-	-	-	Pearl of Power lvl 2	4,000
-	-	-	-	-	-	Necklace of Fireballs (VII)	8,700
-	-	-	-	-	-	Brooch of Shielding	1,500
-	-	-	-	-	-	Ring of Sustenance	2,500
-	-	-	-	-	-	Headband of Intellect +2	4,000

MISC:
Cart 50gp - custom built to work with floating disk when necessary, paid cost of both carts to cover custom work
Donkey - 8gp

Dice HP:

7d6+6

(1, 1, 3, 6, 6, 6, 4)+6

Total = 33

Dice Max Age:

2d20

3, 6

Total = 9

Corrections needed.

Approved.

[OneDarkness]

Application Status: Complete barring Judge requested changes

Hevem High
Gnome, Male, Early Sixties
Pirate and Alchemy Enthusiast from The Free Gate of the South
Advanced Player's Guide

Description:
While Hevem is nothing special as far as gnomes go, he is certain to leave a memorable impression upon those that have interacted with him. At first glance Hevem is typical in many regards with his shorter stature and exaggerated features that one might expect, and while his hair hangs loosely to his shoulder blades is bland blond his facial hair is quite on point and has a bushy set of eyebrows over wide blue eyes. Even his clothing choices are rather tame, all things considering, with muted earthy tones and leather being his favorite choices which are often accompanied by a selection of worn gold accents to add just the punch of interest.

Personality:
Ooo something shiny....is probably the simplest way of looking at Hevem as he appears to be side tracked by all sorts of things that come into his field of vision but he is actually quite good at multi tasking and is capable of doing what he is doing and focusing on about a dozen other things to boot. Ever the optimist he rarely admits defeat and has a habit of making everything seem fairly exciting, even when it shouldn't be. He likes big splashy effects, surprises and sparkly shiny things, cause who doesn't like those.

Backstory:
Hevem had always been a bit of free spirit, and while he grew up in the lush forests around Tyndanael it was not ever truly home for him. He got along well enough with his clan, but there just wasn't enough excitement to keep him satisfied and they had always looked at his explosive alchemy with a bit more judgement than he liked. So after a while of trying to fit in he gave it up and headed to the coast where a change of scenery might spice things up, and find a useful outlet for his talents. The townsfolk weren't much better in Hevem's eyes, things were different but still lacked the energy he was looking for, too many rules to follow, so when a vessel named the Tripin docked and was heading down the coast he took passage in hopes that somewhere along the way he would find his place. A couple ports in he was quickly becoming disillusioned, but in a twist of fate the life he was looking for found him when the Tripin was raided by a ship called the Crimson Dagger.

The Trippin had been ill prepared for such an attack, and was boarded easily in the night and subdued with barely a fight to speak of. Hevem had tried to help when the alarm had been raised but had little enough opportunity as two bombs in he took a crossbow bolt to the shoulder with an impact that cracked his head off a crate and knock him out. When he awoke he found himself bound to the rail of the Crimson Dagger with the Trippin no where in sight. Captain Grimm made his way across the deck with the swagger of one born to the sea, before planting himself before Hevem. "Welcome to the Crimson Dagger. It seems you caused me a minor bit of trouble in what should have been a rather easy score, and while your living and breathing for the moment there is most certainly a debt to be paid for damages incurred."

Hevem was intrigued. "Given I am bound and have little more than my clothes I would say I have little enough to pay any such debt."

If Captain Grimm was concerned by such he made no indication so. "That may be but a debt all the same for not slitting your throat and tossing you to the sharks, but given you didn't kill any of my crew I have some latitude in the collecting, and some explosions like those might be just the thing when we get ourselves into a spot of trouble. So a payment in services might be just the thing to square us up, or would you rather test your luck with the sharks after all?"

Needless to say Hevem took the smart choice and it was a pirate life for him, after some time he truthfully had no desire to leave the pirate life for it provided him with the excitement he had always been looking for and his talents were well regarded. Luckily Captain Grimm was a good enough sort, a bit of a gentleman of pirates, who avoided unnecessary killing and looked after his crew like they were his own flesh and blood. They have raided, pillages, treasure hunted and celebrated over the years and while some of the crew come and go, every time Captain Grimm and the Crimson Dagger have left port it has been with Hevem on board with his antics and some new concoction that he is eager to try out.


Role-Play Sample:
Perched precariously upon the crow's nest of the Crimson Dagger as the ship rises and falls with the swell of the waves, Hevem is enjoying the brisk winds as he stands watch for anything of note. Little is expected as he can already see their port of call, Narthal, a small city known for its lively debauchery and turning a blind eye to many of the laws that others of a goodly nature might follow. Captain Grimm on the fore-deck had already seen it with his spyglass and announced such, so Hevem leaned back against the mast to enjoy the ride in when the little hairs of his body tingle with interest. A ghostly image shimmers before him of a robed figure with an intriguing offer, that leaves Hevem is left stroking his beard. "Looks like i know what I will be doing when we dock, and no doubt they could use somebody used to a bit of fun in their ranks, shake things up a bit."

 

hp rolls Dice 7 levels at d8: 7d8 3, 5, 1, 2, 5, 8, 2 Total = 26

Approved

[Qiksilv]

Tobias Lancaster   Tobias Lancaster spent the better part of his youth training to be strong enough to join his brother's adventuring group. It was hard work but he finally reached his brother's standards for new members. The first real challenge he joined them on was a dungeon established by the great wizard Khelben Ishii. He had been dead for centuries but had left his horde behind; or so the stories said. Tobias managed to not be a complete drain on the group's abilities but there were plenty of times he felt a little out of place as the older, more seasoned heroes laughed their way through traps, teased guardians and random monsters, and chuckled at bodies of other "less prepared" adventurers. Eventually they found the final chamber but to their dismay found the real reason no one had left with the treasures within; the wizard had long ago changed into a lich. Khelben locked the room and hit Tobias with enough force to knock him out. His world spun and faded to black amidst the sparks of swordplay and flashes of arcane duels. When the young fighter woke up his party was dead; but so was the lich. His brother sat next to him and begged Tobias with his last breath to break the phylactery with the Lich's sword. Feeling guilty about being unconscious for the whole battle Tobias quickly rose to the challenge and began smacking on the soul-storing object with the Lich's soul-bonded familiar, a large, black sword; which was likely the only object strong enough to do the job. When the object shattered the energy from Khelben's soul shot through the sword like a lightning rod and fused the wizard's soul to the fighter's. Since that day Tobias has searched for a way to separate himself from the murderous lich. His latest hope was that the Nine would be able to help him since all his other solutions had failed. Rostamoinen's invitation provoked true hope again. Khelben was enjoying living again but he hated riding as a passenger. Also, Rostamoinen had sealed him inside his lair. If Tobias joined the Nine Khelben would get revenge and so would help get them to the illustrious council.   Rostamoinen's message faded from before an older less optimistic Tobias. It had been a decade since he'd become bonded to Khelben's soul and he'd almost stopped hoping this day would come. If anyone could unbond him it would be the Nine. He would go there, succeed, and free himself. "Finally.." he breathed in relief. You would be excited, wouldn't you, Tobias. Khelben said to his mind. The link they shared allowed the dead mage to speak into his mind and occasionally compel his actions. There was blood on Tobias' hands from not being strong enough to always overcome Khelben's will and the fighter would never forgive himself for that. Has it really been so bad with me? You've gotten so strong and done so much good with our power. A little more of this and you could perform the same rituals and become a lich too. Think about it, the lich whispered into the half-elf's mind, you could live forever and so much good for the world. The dead-mage's heart had stopped beating so long ago he couldn't even remember but when Rostamoinen's message had appeared before them he could still feel the sensation the living got when sudden hope came and their heart skipped a few beats. At last, this was his chance for revenge. He couldn't let his 'friend' Tobias know too much but he was certainly not going to inhibit the man's plans any. Nay. This soul-stuck lich would do everything in his power to make sure that his warrior friend got all the way to the end. "Shut up, Khelben." Tobias swore quietly as he walked the city streets where the Arch-mage had indicated he was supposed to go. He paused to give a coin to an urchin boy but the boy's face blanched at the sight of the man. Seeing the fear Tobias' realized that while he held a coin in one hand his other hand had drawn a dagger. Tobias dropped the coin and gripped his errant limb which quivered as the fighter tried to regain control. "Damn you," he whispered. Oh come on, Tobias. His life was worthless. Why would you waste our perfectly good coin on gutter tr- "No!" Tobias yelled despite knowing that he couldn't stop the voice from continuing, evoking stares from passerbys. -ash when ending him would benefit society. Might as well just drop it in a chamber pot. The fighter fumed silently for a moment before stomping off. "We've had this conversation before, Khelben. We can't just walk around killing people. Seriously you're like some sort of murdering hobo at heart." It's 'murdering lord', if you please, Tobias. Sacrifices must be made for betterment of life. You'll learn that when we become a lich together. Though Khelben's speech had no sound Tobias swore he could hear the wizard smile wickedly in his mind. The Nine's challenge couldn't come soon enough for him. "It'll never happen, Khelben," Tobias replied stubbornly. The wizard chuckled, which always felt disturbing when pumped telepathically into the fighter's mind. A fact that old mage frequently made use of. If that's truly the way you feel, child, then perhaps you'd better stop walking and run instead. If you hustle you might just make it to The Life Gate of the West in time. Khelben's motives were mysterious but Tobias didn't waste his opportunity and began jogging. Khelben felt mirth like he hadn't in a long time at the chance to control the body once and for all while also getting back at the man who had wronged him. Khelben laughed again and Tobias shivered despite the warmth of the day.

Application is approved. Please update hit points as noted.