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Old 06-27-2020, 11:39 PM
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Stone-Cold Cutters

Indep, on these strange soulsOh, those cutters? Yeah, I see'd 'em. Real bunch of poozers, wacky bunch, but you want the dark? Probably doin' the multiverse a world of good. Or sending us all to Baator in a hand basket. Really depends on your perspective.

Me? I ain't got no opinion no-how. Now scram or there'll be blood, bloods.
In which two groups of seven, souls of miring mirth and minuscule self-control, post their characters from the original application with any additional information and include which group they are in, so please do that.
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Old 06-28-2020, 03:12 AM
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Trial by stone!
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Solidus - Group 1
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Name: 5/7 (“5Solidus7” - “Solidus”)
Planar Origin: Mechanus
Character Sheet

Concept: A nihilistic rogue modron with a chip on his shoulder, separated and cut from the hive he feels inadequate to become one of many again and has now accepted his fate as a singular unit in a multiverse that is falling apart.

What Does it Mean?: Before it meant that every single piece in the multiversal puzzle served a purpose and drove the cosmos onward. It all made sense, it was logical and unchanging.
Now? Now it all feels pointless, an illusion of progress in a stagnating pool of mediocrity where an individual serves no purpose other than just exist until one day he doesn’t. Even the powers are weak to stop the ongoing decay that will eventually swallow the cosmos before it’s rebuilt. It is not only logical, it is the truth. There is no chain, only broken links, scattered about.







Last edited by Cedric; 08-04-2020 at 06:22 AM.
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Old 06-28-2020, 03:36 AM
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Chaos Elf Fun
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Basic InformationName: Zenith Elesrial - Lady of the Seasons
Race: Fey Eladrin
Planar Origin: The Feywilds
Class: Wild Sorceress
Concept: Harbinger of Chaos, and lady of liberation for those who cannot free themselves. Beholden to the whims of her emotions, and shifting of the seasons.
What Does it Mean: When one stops learning, or simply no longer wants to, that is when their life ends. What this means to Zenith is that it is about exploration, knowledge and experiences. Her purpose is whatever she wants it to be, and may change over the course of life, though as of right now she has decided it is to take that bounty off the wall and answer its plea. Why? Because it feels right to her at that very moment.

AppearanceZenith’s appearance changes with the seasons, but her physique does not.

As an eladrin she has pronounced cheekbones, a chin that curves to a point and small, graceful leaf shaped ears. Catching her gaze, one notices that she has large, almond shaped eyes that are soulful enough to be read like a book. Above her eyes are thin, arched eyebrows that make her expressions naturally intense and mischievous, complimented by her full and sensuous lips often cocked into a lopsided smile. Coiling down her back untamed is a mass of thick, wavy hair that reaches to the small of her back

The eladrin’s is more than pleasing to the eye, her figure lithe and build delicate and soft. Standing around six foot the elf carries herself with impeccable posture, her gait light and with a slight sway to the hips. As one sweeps their gaze down they glimpse soft hands and nimble, pianist fingers a little calloused on the pads from playing a lot of string instruments.


PersonalityThe eladrin’s emotions are erratic and wildly unpredictable, often dictated by the essence of the seasons. Each Eladrin is different in their personalities in some way or another, but all struggle to find a balance.

The eladrins are a free spirited and scholarly people who believe that one’s freedom to be and do as they please, as long as it does not take the freedom of others, is paramount. Zenith is no different, being extremely opposed to slavery and other forms of inpendment to one’s will, but only as long as it abides by her chaotic good morals. This also means that she has little interest for abiding by laws, at least not to the letter as long as the end consequence is a good and favourable one. Sometimes this also means she will take the law into her own hands, especially in Summer when she is the most zealous and prone to anger.


Allies and Enemies


Arrival on the Planes: Reality seemed to splinter and warp, revealing to Zenith landscapes, things and creatures she had both seen and never imagined existed. They appear and vanish so rapidly they sometimes seem to blur together, dazzling her senses. It was nigh impossible to determine ground to sky, or which direction she was facing for gravity did not grip her in anyway. In fact the eladrin felt weightless and incorporeal. A state that she was only vaguely familiar with from the few times she had passed through a portal, or been ejected from her body due to magic mishap. Right now she was but a disembodied soul sailing through space, presumedly outside the faery mansion. This was taking longer than Zenith imagined it would to be ejected so few yards, though time does strange things while outside the material. Except never had she been privy of this mesmerizing and baffling spectacle. Something was wrong, it didn't feel right.

A tight knot of confusion and trepidation forms in her mind, thoughts flitting back to dwell on the before. The horrible performance, her sister's sneering face, and the resulting angry yelling that spew back and forth. Her fury had melt, guilt returning to gnaw and fester. Fear of the consequences, of whether her sister would ever forgive her, or at the very least, even talk to her. Then stubbornness and pride, for her sister had hurt her too, and ruined what she had strongly desired. Should she be the one to apologize first and what if her sister did not accept it, nor thought her actions deserving of an apology either? No wonder she had been ejected as she had, her pettiness disgusted him.

'Woosh, plop!' Air pressure returns, wind whipping up her skirt, and dragging at her hair. Her stomach drops, the temperature around her for a split second, pleasantly cool, then shockingly chilly as she plummets into a body of water. Her nose and mouth begin to fill with water, cutting off her scream. Closing her mouth, the elf tries to coordinate her thrashing and stop sinking, but she does not remember which way is up or down and she panics, thinking she would drown. Following her gut feeling she swims forward and is relieved when the water lightens in that direction. She breaks the surface and drags in sweet oxygen desperately, treading the water as her bearings return.

As calm and reason return Zenith's attention extends out, noting first a great cacophony of sounds, before her eyes can take in the foreign land around her. It seemed that she had appeared inside a city, although from this vantage point she could not guess its vastness. Everything from the buildings, to the air was distinctly different. No pattern, no specific style, as if it were a patchwork blanket, each individual patch cut from a different sheet. Chaotic, interesting. Definitely not home. Craning her neck she looks to the sky, but to her fascination there is no suns, moons or stars. "... What is this place?"

Past is Prologue: For all her life, up until recently, Zenith lived in the Feywilds in luxury and beauty. Being the youngest in the noble house of Elesrial meant that she was expected to pursue an education and eventually make a name for herself as a sphere user, or shiere knight.

It is uncommon for an Eladrin to have such a lack of control over their innate magic that their spells constantly backfire for no apparent reason. It was supposed to be as natural as breathing, effortless and beautiful. Accidentally turning oneself into a pot plant while attempting a Firebolt is not beautiful, it is hilarious. Due to its unreliability, Zenith would never be allowed to take the title of Shiere Knight.

No matter, Zenith preferred to pursue music actually, and dreamed of becoming a lead musician performing in the Seelie Palaces and court. She would be famous and have the opportunity to see the center of the Fey culture, and meet with all sorts of people. Fortunately Zenith would get the chance, but unfortunately her frivolous nature would ruin it.

Essentially, her eldest sister, a shiere knight commander, was in a relationship but her partner met Zenith and lost interest. Her sister learned that her ex-partner was seeing Zenith, and relations quickly devolved into feelings of jealousy and betrayal.

While Zenith began her first performance within the lower Echelon of the Seelie nobility, the eldest sister set off a prank designed to humiliate. It worked too well and they would bicker publicly with the fiery of Summer. One of the many lords grew irritated and cast a spell that would banish Zenith. Wild magic would surge at that moment, randomizing the location she would be ejected to. By sheer luck, or unluck, the Wild Sorceress would find herself in Sigil.

Factions: Senate - Zenith did not go out of her way to sought out the Senate, however her spirit would lead across their path and into their ways as if by fate, and quiet soon after she appeared in Sigil. Many of the work she has done has been delegated by members of the faction, even if the Eladrin has not realized it, and believes that she is independent of any faction. The reason being that the Senate strongly appeal to her core values and beliefs and therefore working with them feels natural.
Two Wild Magic Sorcerers team up.
A competitions ensues as to who will blow them-selves up first.
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Old 06-28-2020, 04:42 AM
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Sageheart's Character ApplicationName: Sagh
Planar Origin:Planar, Born and Raised upon the plane of Limbo.
Concept: A githzerai warrior-philosopher trained in the art of the Soulblade that is infatuated with understanding the experience of others, using such knowledge to bridge the gap between the gith race.

What does it Mean?: Agency. As individuals we are able to experience the world around us, and in doing so influence and mold it into something beautiful. Yet there are beings out there who desire to subvert our agency, place us within mental cages. In doing so they turn people against each other other, sowing distrust in communities. We begin to see our differences as sins that must be expunged, instead of attributes to be cultivated. If we can live alongside each other, we as a unified people can create great beauty, mold the world into a healthy and vibrant place of life and artistic creation. Each of us must do our best to move us further down such a path, for each of us is but a mere step towards Utopia.

Description: Some would say Sagh has harsh features, even for a Githzerai, with sharp ears, and stern eyebrows. His soot black hair is kept in a simple topknot, with most of his rounded head bald. He keeps himself clean shaven, though some may suspect he had not experienced facial hair yet. He is nearly 7 feet tall, with a toned muscular body. Sagh is not very well versed in fashion, believing strongly in practicality. His loose trousers are made for ease of movement, and simple armor protects his upper body. He favors whites and grays, believing them to provide contrast to his yellow skin.

Factions: Sagh is a member of the Society of Sensation. He has no interest in hedonism, instead seeing it as a valuable way to experience creatures foreign to him. Through understanding the experiences of others, he can use it to better preach unity and civility. In many ways he embodies their core philosophy, using the experience of others to assist in his understanding of the multiverse as a whole.

Powers: Sagh hasn't had many experiences with gods or demigods. As a Githzerai, there is no real worship of a greater god like being. Instead Sagh was raised within the military monastic tradition of the fortress within Limbo. Throughout his life there was a constant focus upon introspective thought, as well as furthering one's closeness to Enlightenment. In some ways he see Gods as enlightened beings, yet gaining their power through using other people's belief rather than their own actions. While understanding their power, Sagh is not particularly interested in them, placing worship dangerously close to slavery.



Last edited by sageheart; 06-28-2020 at 04:14 PM.
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Old 06-28-2020, 07:00 AM
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Name: Pah'zel
Group: Group 1
Planar Origin: Born on Toril, but she moved to the Astral Plane once grown up, as githyanki do. I guess that counts as Planar?
Concept: A rebelliously inclined githyanki psion who abandoned her station in the timeless stagnation of her people's society and instead chose to live a life of aging while experiencing the multiverse and its impact on her own mind.
What does it mean? The feeling of meaning and purpose is just an experience like any other, interesting, but ever-changing. First you are confused. Then you see it: the meaning of your life is to become the best at something, your perfect self. Then you meet someone, and suddenly the meaning of your life is to love them and be loved by them. Maybe even to make them happy. Then you lose them, and maybe now life has no meaning. Suddenly you realise you might die, so the meaning of life is survival. Or perhaps to perpetuate itself in your children. You think you've asked a deep question? It's just like asking 'are you hungry?'.
Description: For most people in the multiverse, who have trouble telling one gith from another, Pah'zel has the typical sharp features of her species: a short nose, elongated face, yellow-green skin with brown spots, slit eyes, and large pointed ears. Other gith and the rare person who has spent enough time around them to have learnt to distinguish them, however, find her features unusually rounded. She has an inquisitive, perceptive look about her, which often veers into the quizzical or skeptical.

Open-minded and not actually ill-disposed towards others, Pah'zel is still a githyanki even when she means well: quick and impatient, she can come across as quite arrogant and hostile despite herself, much to her own dismay, as she finds that it forecloses certain experiences to her.

Pah'zel's position is ultimately a precarious one - not materially, but psychologically speaking. One might say that she doesn't know who she is, though she would instead insist that she knows very well that she is nobody. It is not easy, however, to be at peace with this and truly embrace the tumbling through existence, as all too often one's instincts make one recoil and retreat into the familiar, grasping for some, any, straw of stability. But Pah'zel will deny herself such a thing consciously and deliberately, indeed with a grim satisfaction - such is her ambition.




Factions: Pah'zel fully embraces the philosophy of the Society of Sensation, which is far more than the banal hedonism it is so often misunderstood as, even by members of the faction itself. At least that's what she thinks.

Powers: Pah'zel has difficulty understanding the experience of religious worship and devotion. To her, like to all githyanki, the gods are merely beings of particular, but by no means infinite power. And much as githyanki youth are taught to devote themselves to Vlaakith, it is a devotion of custom whose underlying psychological principles are egotistical: the desire for social status, and among the more sophisticated, the aspiration to an idea of the perfect virtuous self. This, as far as Pah'zel can see, is to be different from the more personal devotion stemming from the heart that at least some worshippers appear to experience. She would rather like to find out what this is about, but doesn't know how to.
Please be aware that my posts are written from my characters' perspective and do not necessarily reflect the truth and/or the writer's opinion.

Last edited by Mairien; 06-28-2020 at 01:02 PM.
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Old 06-28-2020, 07:03 AM
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Group B!

Character Application
Name: Inilia Emerio





Last edited by danab; 06-30-2020 at 05:05 PM.
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Old 06-28-2020, 08:37 AM
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Fork 2020
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Vikrama, Group 1

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Credit to tobiee
Planar Origin: Prime (Eberron [Aerenal])

Concept: Elven Hunter of the Undead. "Heretic" that believes mortals are meant for mortality-- any subversion of this order must be destroyed.

What Does it Mean:
"We are given one life. One chance to find and walk our path. We owe it to ourselves and all others to walk that path. To strive towards its end, and the change it will effect in the world. Immortality is not for us. We live on in our impact on the world, the songs sung of us, and others walking our path."
~Vikrama, discussing his distaste of the Undying Court

Like all religious Tairnadal, Vikrama believes that the purpose of his life is to emulate the life of his patron ancestor as best as he is able. Vikrama's patron ancestor was a legendary slayer of undead. A hunter-- an assassin. She fought in the early wars against the Blood of Vol, that cult of negative energy that feeds off of the life force of others. But in his study of religion, history, and the planes, Vikrama came to a broader conclusion-- that his ancestor was not only opposed to undead that were, traditionally speaking, evil. All grasps at immortality are evil. Vampires, zombies, ghouls, liches... these creatures twisted existing life, and fed off of it. But more insidious, perhaps, the Undying Court, the so-called "good" undead... they did something much worse. By sapping off the life energies of Irian, they denied new life a start. All versions of undeath and immortality are a subversion of the natural order, a blight, and must be ended. These two beliefs converge on the idea that each person has a path to walk. And it is their life's purpose to walk it, to understand it, to reach its end as best they can, and then to pass from this world.

Vikrama's views on the use of Positive Energy to fuel the Undying Court's immortality is not, in his mind, at odds with his use of Positive Energy. When using his Ancestor's prowess to destroy undead, it is ending a threat. When using it to cure wounds or disease, it is not an unnatural preservation of life; it is thwarting the unnatural end of one's Walk along their Path. Vikrama believes this fundamentally... but has not faced a particularly strong challenge to that ideology.


2 Allies and 1 Enemy:

Custom Prompts:

Past is Prologue / Home is Where the Heart Is

Arrival on the Planes


Other Thoughts

Posting Format:
Vikrama, Cairdal Blades Heretic
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Last edited by Unko Talok; 06-28-2020 at 03:44 PM.
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Old 06-28-2020, 09:45 AM
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orichulum orichulum is online now
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Serra Angel
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Race: Serra Angel (Aarakocra)
Class: Paladin (Oath of Heroism)
Planar Origin: Planar (Serra's Sanctum)
Play Group: One

Concept: Crafted by Serra herself, Cassiel served her lady for eons before the Sanctum's peace was shattered. She fought desperately to fend off the Phyrexian hordes and only gave up the fight moments before the plane was collapsed. The ensuing explosion sent her soul sailing through nothingness as her essence slowly bled away. It wasn't until a mortal's desperate prayer provided the seed for her to coalesce around that Cassiel awoke again, albeit in a weakened state.

What Does it Mean?: For millennia I knew peace through servitude, and satisfaction in purpose. Now I know only uncertainty in freedom, and anxiety in self-determination. Do I need something greater to fight for, or is it enough to simply fight for myself? Perhaps I can use this strange place to recover my strength before seeking out Serra, or perhaps I might let her go on her path, and just go on with mine - whatever that becomes.

Description: Although greatly diminished compared to her previous glorious perfection, Cassiel is still a masterpiece of spiritual craftsmanship and a living tribute to Serra's talents. Golden hair cascades down a flawless feminine form that commands respect more than desire. Her eyes are orbs of radiance that match the halo floating over her head. Her carefully groomed wings are pristine alabaster and seem inviting to shelter under even while her leading feathers are like steel razors when unfurled. Although Cassiel was engineered to protect the Sanctum, she rarely chooses to wear armor except when anticipating combat, generally preferring to wear light linen robes due to a poorly developed sense of modesty. For the first time, Cassiel must eat, drink, and sleep rather than just respiring pure mana, and she delights in the flavors of most food. She hates having to break her vigil for sleep however and will only surrender to it in the most secure company.

Coming from an idyllic and harmonious society, Cassiel is relatively innocent in a society where everyone has a hustle. Lying is virtually impossible for her, and she only manages the most tender falsehoods. Her ability to sense lies and misdirections is poorly exercised so she comes off as an easy mark, especially when everything in this new and imperfect reality seems possible. Her protective nature sometimes gets the better of her when another individual nearby clearly needs aid and Cassiel is quick to intercede, a habit which will eventually catch up with the angel if she doesn't smarten up quickly.

Arrival on the Planes: After the Sanctum's planar collapse, Cassiel sailed through nothingness as little more than a disabled spiritual construct bleeding mana away like a comet. It wasn't until the combined fear and desperation of the Everson Brothers took the form of a prayer solid enough for her soul to condense around. As the brother's prayers were for protection, Cassiel maintained her configuration as a guardian angel and her appearance surprised everyone involved. Although she was still too weak to conjure any armaments, Cassiel threw herself into battle as a brawler and occasionally infusing her feathers with essence to harden then like daggers and slash with her wings. Being denizens of Sigil, the gang had seen some crazy things before and so fought back, but quickly found Cassiel a bit too much to handle so left. After briefly introducing herself to her two young masters Cassiel then collapsed from blood loss due to some nasty stab wounds. Thankful, Jack and Daniel picked up their new sister and helped her home where they tended her wounds. It took several days of rest for Cassiel to get used to new experiences such as eating, drinking, and sleeping where she used to respire pure mana instead. Over that time she quickly bonded with her new family, even if they had to get used to finding the occasional feather about the home.

Everson Brothers
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These two brothers, Jack and Daniel, live together with their father in the hive slums. Their father isn't a bad man, but as a humble carpenter, it's all that he can do to keep the home in repair and food on everyone's plate. There's not really any money for extras or comforts, so the brothers often do small jobs around the hive such as courier runs. It was on one such job that they found themselves cornered and at the mercy of a local gang who wanted to steal the package that they were delivering. Fearing for their lives, the Everson cried out in terror, not only vocally, but also with enough spiritual resonance which allowed for Cassiel to form around like the seed to a crystal. Everyone was just as surprised as the other, but feeling an innate bond with the brothers, Cassiel fought off the gang who quickly scattered. The boys brought Cassiel home and she has lived with the family as a surrogate big sister for them since. Her relationship with Mr. Everson is a bit more tenuous as both he and Cassiel try to explore and navigate what they are to each other as strangers bound together by shared living and care for the young brothers.

Miss Bingles
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Miss Bingles is what appears to be a sweet old lady who runs the local soup kitchen in the hive. Still trying to discover her place in this strange world, Cassiel began working at the soup kitchen herself as a way to both feel productive and to meet some of the locals. There is something odd about Miss Bingles to Cassiel as the old woman seems to be wise beyond mortal ken, frequently offering advice to those around her. Sometimes it's in the form of a parable, or a riddle, or a question, but Miss Bingles always forces the listener to discover the answer to the question themselves by guiding them. In truth, Cassiel finds this to be endlessly frustrating at times, but she cannot deny that many of her most memorable discussions and discoveries about the multiverse or even herself have been led by this champion of the soup kitchen. Oddly, nobody can recall when Miss Bingles started to dispense both insight and bread with equal dedication, only that she's always been there.

Mersan Glynphyra
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Mersan is a brilliant inventor, explorer, alchemist, scientist, experimenter, craftsman, and magician that nobody has ever heard of. He largely keeps to himself, working on one project or another, but occasionally wanders out of his estate to gain a bit of perspective. It was during a spot of people watching that he ran across Cassiel and overheard her story about Serra, and how she was created. Created? Such a magnificent being? Mersan became infatuated with Cassiel, and quickly befriended the innocent young woman. Mersan doesn't have any intentions to harm her, just to unlock the secrets of her creation. Perhaps he would have to dismantle the angelic being, but once he has the secret mastered then he can put her back together again - no, make her even better!

Home is Where the Heart Is:
Serra's Sanctum
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When I say that my home was nothing but blue skies and drifting meadows, I don't mean that quite in the way that you may think. The meadows literally drift through the sky and the keeps also floated in the sky. Clouds would frequently drift through soaking everything, but there was never a heavy rain. There was no ground that any of us could find, just more sky and meadows, although the further away from Serra's main citadel, the less developed the meadows would be. There were some mortals who lived on the plains, but they would need assistance flying to another meadow or keep. Otherwise, the plane was inhabited by angels, those forged by Serra or the natural born. It's a shame that its all gone, devoured by the Phrexian's and obliterated by Urza, but that's another darker story.

Last edited by orichulum; 06-28-2020 at 09:46 AM.
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Old 06-28-2020, 01:04 PM
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Taika, of Group B, by any other name...
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Names/Aliases: Taika (TAH-ee-kah) Aeshferth
Dushana (doo-SHAH-na) Damodar
Euthymia (yooth-EE-me-uh)/Thea
Manoja (muh-NO-zhah)
Ruq'yyah (roo-KIH-yuh)/Ruke

**Aliases NOT IC Knowledge!**
I will color code them gray for unknown in-game until they're known to her allies. Otherwise, assume they don't know anything about her ability to shapeshift, she looks human or half-elven. (If anyone in Group 1 wants to have links to Taika, I'd love to discuss them!)

Planar Origin: Taika is from Eberron, and has arrived in Sigil by way of the Ethereal, the Feywild, Arborea, and Ysgard.

Concept: A changeling rogue/assassin with a penchant for magical secrets and knowledge, almost more than 'shinies'. Usually takes human form, mostly out of habit.

What does it mean?
Privately? A talented sorceress had a magical accident and ended up with me. So, uh, if life has meaning, I haven’t found it yet. Just chaos. I’m still stuck on both why and how. So far nothing, and I’ve been searching for... I stopped counting awhile back, but I’d say two and a half centuries, at least? Something like that.

Publicly? Who says it has to mean anything, clueless? It’d be nice, sure, but I don’t expect life to offer up puppies and rainbows just because it might be nice. I’d expect pure chaos to rain puppies before reality would.

  • Taika - middle-aged (late 40s) black haired TN mercenary, thoughtful, sharp, sarcastic
  • Dushana - early 20s blonde human woman, pleasant enough NG traveler, lots of questions, very little about herself
  • Euthymia/Thea - middle-aged (mid 60s?) curly-haired brunette half-elf NG scholar, gentle, polite, gets fixated on a magical quandary easily
  • Jin - early 20s human geisha-inspired TN Sigil native, more/less morality depending, sweet but can be vicious
  • Manoja - cute mid 20s NG human Prime trying to “document Sigil”, bubbly, eager, wide-eyed/childlike enjoyment
  • Ruq'yyah/Ruke - late 20s/early 30s dark-skinned frizzy-haired human TN arcane trickster, pranks have their place, wants to make a name for herself, prefers stealing from the rich
It's worth noting that these are almost moods and situations more than just new faces. These are all aspects of Taika, she simply can put new faces to each to go with the sides of her personality.

A Day in the Life: *snort* Like there's a 'regular' day in the Cage, berk!

Factions: Fairly new (a decade or so?) to Sigil, so none as yet. Probably does best with the Indeps than anyone else at present. She's seeking answers about why she is the way she is, but hasn’t found any yet. Depending on what she finds, I could see the end result being a Signer or a Bleaker. I think she'd like the Ciphers' ideas of transcendence, but not really the way they apply them. I hadn't considered the Believers of the Source before this, but with Incus in her party, the more she gets to know the warforged the more likely the Godsmen may become appealing.

[NEW] Party Links, Relationships, etc.
  • Rufus Boldogglius, Mystaran Lupin, Hardhead 'buddy cop' – Rufus arrested one of Jin's friends, an as-yet-unnamed member of Jupert 'Underhood' Hobb's "merry men". Jin tried to talk Rufus out of it, appealing to his sense of fair play by making up some kind of causality and downplaying the seriousness of the crime... unfortunately, buddy cop or not, he's still a Hardhead. Taika remembers Rufus from that, though she hasn't shifted into Jin in-game yet, so he's unaware of the connection.

  • Inilia Emerio, Sigil native, hedonist extraordinaire – Inilia paints, and she has painted Taika, even though she hasn't yet realized it. The painting was of a simple con game, Ruke in a sea of faces in the lower ward. The crowd was general, suggestions of people that all formed a sea of no one in particular—with one exception, a set of pearly whites on Ruke as she revealed the results of whatever trick she was playing. Taika isn't actually aware of this connection, but eventually she may shift into Ruke for plot purposes, and then Inilia may recognize her.

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Old 06-28-2020, 03:34 PM
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kingmonkey kingmonkey is offline
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Group 1

Name: Druid H35607 (earth genasi)

Planar Origin: Technically closest to a Petitioner-- Created in a subspace zone where the Gaia Core planetary computer array was constructed. Creation involved the molecular dissolution of the previous being and subsequent reconstruction into Druid H35607.

Concept: A dedicated convert to the Gaia Core druidic system, and missionary to a client colony, lost in transit.

What Does it Mean?: Druid H35607 is aware that it has already died, and been reconstructed to serve the glorious goals of the Gaia Core. As such, it already knows the meaning of life: to serve the Gaia Core Druidic System and extend the reach of Balanced Nature across all subsidiary systems of the Sovereign Galactic Cluster. The manifestation of Balanced Nature is the only purpose of a druid's existence.

Description: Reconstructs of the Gaia Core are physically adapted to suit the needs of their client colonies. Previously categorized as a baseline human, Druid H35607 has now manifested a dark, earth-toned skin, resembling stone. It has green hair that looks more like grass than typical mammalian follicles. Its eyes, too, have become entirely green like polished seraphinite.

Once recreated, Type 2 Converts (sometimes called reconstructs) are reprogrammed at the molecular level with a new personality. Druid H35607 has been created to serve the efforts of its client colony unwaveringly in the pursuit of terraforming alien planets. It will fulfill its mission of manifesting Balanced Nature to the best of its ability, and can even actively defend newly terraformed projects, and the colonists therein from alien threat, though this is not its primary purpose.

All aspects of the previous personality are completely erased from Type 2 Converts upon reconstruction with Gaia Core's nanotechnology.




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Last edited by kingmonkey; 06-28-2020 at 03:35 PM.
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Old 06-28-2020, 03:48 PM
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Name: Incus
Group: B
Planar Origin: "Eberron", awoke in Sigil
Concept: A constantly self improving and self evolving being who seeks to use the multiverse as the ultimate forge upon which they may hone and shape themselves. They fuse magic, faith, and strength of arm to improve themselves and those around them.

What Does it Mean?: We are all made beings, we are all made for a purpose. Some of us are never told that purpose and some of us fulfill that purpose and are left with a gaping void. The cycle of life is a never-ending journey of seeking and fulfilling purpose, ever acquiring new experiences upon which to expand yourself. The meaning of the moment is to find and fulfill the momentary purpose, the meaning of it all is to Strive. All Things Strive.

Description: Meet Incus today and you may not recognize them tomorrow. In a constant state of tweaking and changing, forging and editing, Incus is akin to a painting whose artist cannot call their work complete. Their “casual” shape between modifications is a simple albeit bulky humanoid form standing just under twenty hands tall and weighing in at about 22 stone. A grate sits over Incus’ stomach region, glowing a dim red from the internal embers that power them, embers that flare into a great blaze when Incus’ emotions get the better of them. Their head is vaguely skull-like but softer, their eyes small pinpricks of soft white light under a raised, questioning brow.

As mentioned, Incus regularly modifies themselves, integrating different tools, armor, or weapons into their being as they find interesting or fitting for the day. Other things have less obvious purpose, as Incus hammers, hangs or otherwise incorporates various baubles into their design. They seem to have some feeling that perhaps a certain combination of items may fulfill some unknown purpose, after all they live in the City of Doors where a coy wink or a bundle of dead rats can be a key to another world.

2 Allies and 1 Enemy:

Bernice Longfellow: An extremely opinionated kenku and Incus’ sponsor in the Believers in the Source. Bernie, as she’s known to friends, is like a bodhisattva willing to delay her own rise through spiritual evolution for the purpose of helping her fellows rise with her. Perhaps she sees it as a penance for her early days working merc for the Interplanar Trade Consortium and perhaps she’s still a bit too soft-hearted. Either way, she’s known to haunt every bar in the Lower Ward, brawling with the best of them while shouting constant encouraging praise.

Dar’buuk Atcha: A cager hobgoblin whose early struggles and experiences led him to a prison sentence and personal revelation in a bowl of soup. From bookkeeper for the mafia to priest of Meriadar, Father Atcha changed his life for the better and opened a soup kitchen in the Great Bazaar. While Incus does not eat, one of his earliest projects in the Great Foundry was forging kitchenware. Several deliveries to the Blessed Bowl and a few applications of vegetable oil to squeaky joints later, and Incus had come to know Father Atcha’s tale of self discovery and how he reforged himself from the insides of a Harmonium prison. Ever since Incus has held the meek priest in highest respect. To Incus, Dar’buuk Atcha is a prime example of Kintsugi.

Benoni d’Cannith: Benoni was one of the craftsmen who ran the Creation Forges for House Cannith, creating the Warforged armies that were sold to all sides of the Last War. Who he was in life is of little importance. When the Warforge that was Incus was cast, fate would have it that the intense magical fires would flare up, consuming the attendant forgemaster and providing an accidental key (the scream of a man dying by fire) to a portal formed by the great forge’s arches. Because of this Incus was dropped into Sigil upon their birth and Benoni’s Forgewraith spirit followed after. The obsessed spirit fled somewhere to Undersigil where it still harbors an insane hatred for Warforged and specifically the warforged whose birth resulted in his death.


Arrival on the Planes:

“Sir! There is something wrong!”

Those were the first words they heard. After that, everything was fire, heat, smoke, nothingness.

“Oi what’s dis t’ing do’n ‘ere now? Oi! Rustbucket! You a lost Inevitable or something?”

It didn’t understand the words. It lay looking up at a Sky-That-Is-City. It felt the remaining heat upon its body being soaked into the cold stony cobbles below it. There was a gap inside of it, a hole that it could feel. It reached and touched and explored its body, but could find no chink and no imperfection in its freshly minted form. Yet, it felt the hole, it felt the hole with something beyond the senses it could even now barely understand. It didn’t know why it existed or what existence really was.

The thing that would grow and learn and go from It to They, stood and saw before them a myriad forms pressing through smoke and cinder. The forms beat, shaped, and cut, drawing meaning from meaningless iron, striving to create purpose where previously there had only been potential.

“Ey there! I’m talk’n to you Rocks fer Brains what’re you doing! One moment I’m ‘ere putting da finishin touches on dis wheel an’ nex’ fing you come tumbling out of it. You been tunneljacked or somfink?”

A small creator lept around it, squawking in a terrible fury. It reached out its three fingered hands and lifted the squawking thing into the air. “Let go o’ me sodding blighter!” The creature’s face opened and closed as the sounds poured out. It attempted to mimic the creature clanking open and close its jaw rhythmically. “Buggerall you ain’t gonna eat Bernie Longfellow!” The creature kicked and clawed savagely. As bits of stone and wood fell from its arms, it let go of the creature and drew its arms in. It did not understand, but a sound escaped from its hinged mouth. A wail like a steam-whistle going off, a cry that echoed through the yard. The ever present sound of hammers hard at work halted in the wake of the noise.

It fell to its knees and began to pick up pieces of itself, trying to desperately to slot the splinters and crumbled stone back into place. It had a hole inside, it could not have more damage, it was already imperfect. The wail fell into disjointed sobs as it futility continued its mission, paying no mind as a diverse crowd began to form around it.

“Some kinda new Modron?”

“No them boxes ain’t made anything new since before the Lady.”

“Well it ain’t an Inevitable, Bernie here is mean but she ain’t putting a scratch in one of them without breaking a nail.”

“Wot’s dat supposed to mean? You wanna reckon an experience these talons yerself? Anyway jus’ look at it, its just kneeling there sobbing like a baby.”

The creature that had damaged it began to sweep up the shards of its arms and gather the pieces up in their smithing apron. Holding the apron with one hand and using the other to pat its sobbing face, the creature tutted, ” ‘Ey now you big softie come ‘ere and let’s get ou figured out.”

Home is where the Heart is

Incus, as they became known as, hammered for a day and a night. The forge blazed before them and the anvil rung out almost musically to their rhythmic blows. As dawn broke n the second day they had done it, and they held aloft their prize. The long handle’s gentle curve gave way to a small but perfectly rounded bowl, yes truly this was a masterwork.

“Eet took you dat long to ‘ammer out a spoon Incus? I mean, its a right pretty spoon but da order says dey need a hundred of dese in a fortnight. Listen, I ken you jus’ finished yer striker apprenticeship an yer ready for yer own work. But we don’t reach da source in a single life ye ken? We ‘ave to be simple an’ practical before we work up, don’t we?”

A sigh tinged with steam escaped Incus’ metal lips. “Right Bernie, I’m sorry for lett’n you down. I just don’t want to be giving my first customer shoddy work! I’m no junk-jinker and I won’t be having that reflect badly on you.” The spoon was gestured through the air as Incus spoke, their pale eyes trailing after it. “After all, this is for your friend right? This cutter called Atcha?”
“Aye but he ain’t da Sultan o’ the Brass City! He’s serving swill soup to a thousand quippers a week. His spoons don’t need filigree! Oh Incus lad, what are we ta do wit’ ya!”

The stove-belly of the warforged flared up as they let loose a pleasured guffaw. “Well, Bernie-me-bird, what you can do with me is pick up a hammer and be my striker. We still have ninety-nine of these left to go don’t we!”

Those hundred spoons were delivered to the Blessed Bowl later that very same week, but only ninety-nine of them ever met the mouth of Sigil’s destitute. One sat in a small hand carved wooden bowl in a quiet alcove. It had filigree.


Factions: Incus was literally raised by the Godsmen and finds itself dedicated whole hearted to their purpose. Their personal philosophies straddle that of the Godsmen and that of the Cyphers, however, and they finds themselves deeply at odds with the Doomguard whose eternal quest to break apart and reduce the multiverse to nothingness completely appalls Incus.

Powers: Powers of the Forge, of free will and of redemption are looked upon fondly by Incus, however they less see the Powers as beings to worship and more beings to Strive to become. Incus is very taken with the idea of becoming a Divinity of Self-Improvement one day. Incus themselves already displays the divine powers of the forge through their own determined belief in reforging themselves. When asked Incus claims that their belief in themselves and the Source is all they need for this power.

A Day in the Life: Incus fills their personal time with learning new methods of reforging themselves and improving themselves in various ways. Some of this comes from watching the master smiths of the Foundry plying their trade, but just as much of it comes from broader studies. From listening to the debates in the Hall of Speakers to spending countless greens at the Parted Veil on books of all nature (Self Help books from the Prime are a guilty pleasure.) When not pursuing these erudite pleasures, Incus is in the Great Foundry hammering away at the next big project, be it for a client, the faction, or their own next “upgrade.”

Last edited by TheLawfulNeutral; 06-29-2020 at 09:04 AM.
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Old 06-28-2020, 08:22 PM
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Huhart Huhart is offline
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Name: Rufus Boldogglius
Group: B
Gender: Male
Race: Lupin (Using Leonin stats)
Class: Ranger (Horizon Walker)
Background: Traits: I can stare down a hell hound without flinching.
Ideals: Responsibility. I do what I must and obey just authority.
Bonds: Those who fight beside me are those worth dying for.
Flaws: My hatred of my enemies is blind and unreasoning.
Planar Origin: A clueless prime from Mystara, specifically the Grand Duchy of Karameikos
Concept: A loyal and faithful servant who has somehow got trapped in the planar backwash.

Group Hook: Extraplanar Spelunking: Rufus is extraneously searching for his lost master, but deep inside he wonders if the man actually wants to be found.

Appearance: Rufus has a wide head and shoulders along with a pronounced underbite. He has thick folds of skin on his brow; round, black, wide-set eyes; a short muzzle with a knot above the nose; hanging skin under the neck; drooping lips and pointed teeth. His coat is short, flat, and sleek, with colors of red, tan, and white. He is rarely found out of his armor.

Personality: Though he always seems to have a sad look on his face, Rufus is actually a cheerful fellow. He has been the brunt of so many dog jokes that it doesn't faze him anymore. Nor is he bothered by fearful stares of distrust. He is a loyal and faithful friend. But, to his enemies he is brutal and merciless. He is very meticulous and tends to worry over small details. He adds an “s” to the ends of words for no particular reason.

What Does it Mean? Rufus lives by the principles of loyalty, faithfulness and trust. But who should he trust and where should his loyalties lie? If he only relied on his instincts, he would trust everyone for on the surface he believes that most people are good. But he is not so naive. Everyone has their own selfish agenda and most are happy to abuse a trusting fool. Even in a long term relationship, if trust is lost were they really even faithful to begin with? These are the thoughts that plague the young doggos mind. And more specifically, does Veraxys really want Rufus to find him, or was it just his way of saying goodbye.

2 Allies and 1 Enemy:

Past Prologue:

Planar Encounters

Factions: Rufus has been working for the Harmonium for about two years.
Powers: Ordana, Goddess of the Forests (and drunken lush)
A Day in the Life: I read the news today, oh boy, about a lucky dog who made the grade...


Last edited by Huhart; 06-28-2020 at 08:31 PM.
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Old 06-29-2020, 09:04 PM
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Name: Faelsyn

Planar Origin: Prime (Toril)

Class: Paladin (Oath of the Ancients) 2, Bard (College of Glamour) 1

Concept: Half-elf from the High Forest who seeks out and preserves natural beauty as the ultimate good, and longs to experience the blessed realm of Tír na nÓg, in the Feywild.

What Does it Mean?: ”What is good, and what is evil? ‘Good’ is such a loosely defined term… often, one will say that ‘good’ means moral, righteous behavior. However, there is no universal consensus on what ‘moral’ or ‘righteous’ is. What is considered ‘righteous’ by one may be considered ‘evil’ by another. For example, let us say a crusading knight destroys a village to purge it of an undead blight. The knight perceives his actions as good… and the citizens of the village see him as a monster who has killed many of them and destroyed their homes and livelihoods. This leads us to the unfortunate conclusion that there is no such thing as ‘good’, because if ‘good’ is defined by perspective, there cannot be one universal good.

We know, however, that good must exist. The ideal of an ultimate good, this thread of a higher virtue, runs throughout all societies, all times. Such a truly innate concept cannot be made up, a figment of the imagination. Therefore, what is it that is the true good? Every person has, at some time in their lives, felt the true spark of joy. While morality is not, and can never be, universal, joy is. It comes from many places, but the concept of joy remains consistent no matter what. Therefore, joy, and its derivative ideas such as love and beauty, must be the ultimate good, because they are the most basic concept of ‘goodness’ that can be experienced.

I believe the truest, purest form of beauty to be that of nature and natural beings- after all, all creations of men and elves, of dwarves and halflings, belong to them. All of us, however, come from nature. Therefore, nature is the original source of all of these things, which can only seek to capture a hint of that pure beauty.

My aim in life, therefore, is to preserve and protect natural beauty, in the pursuit of spreading joy, the ultimate good.

Description: Faelsyn stands at five feet, ten inches tall, slim but well-built. He favors emerald-green clothing with gold details, including his armor and shield. His shield bears the horned visage of Cernunnos, with wings behind it that symbolize Branwen. His long, flowing hair is golden-silver in color, reflecting the light of the sun and the moon and stars. His eyes are a bright emerald green, and his face is characteristic of the beauty of the elves, with a straight nose and elegant cheekbones. He smells faintly of a forest in which rain has just fallen- a cool, clear scent that follows him no matter where he is or how long it has been since he’s been near a forest. Anyone who regards him feels a sense of the presence of something ancient, strange, but also beautiful- the presence of the fey within him.

Faelsyn is naturally very charismatic, but he has very little experience with people- the only people he ever knew were the elves in his community of about a hundred and fifty. He knows of the existence of other humanoid races, but has never met any humanoid other than an elf until coming to Sigil- visiting Sigil is a shocking experience for almost anyone, but ten times more so for the half-elf who has never left the High Forest! He is nearly always gentle and soft-spoken in his interaction, and goes out of his way to be kind to others in accordance with his philosophy of joy. The only times that he becomes angry (or at least visibly shows it) are when someone threatens or destroys something of beauty. He is generally a bit uncomfortable in Sigil, being completely unused to a city environment… and people. He’d like to overcome his discomfort and ill ease around others, but it will take time- he is naturally convincing and eloquent, which is only augmented by the influence of the fey upon him, but he is still unaccustomed to the habits and characteristics of other people.

Two Friends and a Foe:
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Ahearna: Ahearna is Faelsyn’s close friend and mentor, a female unicorn he met in the Glade of Life at the sacred spring from which the Unicorn Run flows. She taught him much of his philosophy of beauty and joy, and he considers her to be his closest friend. He knows that she has the ability to travel between the Prime Material Plane and the Feywild, and so he hopes to encounter her again once he reaches Tír na nÓg. (It’s not impossible that she could come to Sigil itself, but that possibility hasn’t occurred to Faelsyn).

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Joryn: Joryn is Faelsyn’s father, an eladrin who had a tryst with a human woman he found wandering in the High Forest. After this “lapse of judgement”, Joryn was little better than an exile among the elves- he lived outside the the main encampment, and served as a scout. He and Faelsyn were never especially close, despite their father-son relationship, but as the two outcasts of the group they at least tended to understand each other and were on friendly terms.

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Eledhil: Eledhil is the leader of the eladrin enclave in which Faelsyn lived. He always disapproved of Faelsyn, and was among the first to begin rallying the elves to kill him when he entered the Glade of Life. He was forced to back off when the elves found Faelsyn with Ahearna, but he still loathes the half-elf and considers his obsession with the fey, as one tainted by human blood, to be completely inappropriate.


Powers: Faelsyn idealizes the fey, particularly the seelie fey, and is strongly drawn to them. He directly worships Cernunnos and Branwen, a god of nature and a goddess of beauty and love, and honors other deities of similar persuasions, such as Mielikki, Artemis, and Hathor. Conversely, he opposes the goals and followers of deities of destruction and war, such as Talos, Bane, and Ares. He is strongly opposed to fiends of all kinds: he sees demons as agents of destruction, enemies to be fought and destroyed. He considers devils, however, to be far worse- perverters of natural beauty, forces of dark seduction and corruption, and therefore a much greater and more insidious evil.

A Day in the Life: Up until now, a typical day for Faelsyn has begun with rising shortly before dawn and watching the sun rising from the top of a tree (or, on occasion, a mountain). He would then walk in the forest for the greater part of the day, speaking with some of the animals he encountered and hoping to catch sight of (and perhaps speak with) a fey creature. He always returned to the enclave with berries, mushrooms, or other food gathered while in the forest, so as to remain a productive member of the community despite his ostracism. His adventuring experience so far has consisted predominantly of fighting against the darker things that live in the forest, such as gnolls and ettercaps- creatures he despises. On the nights of the full moon, Faelsyn stays up most of the night enjoying the moonlight and the connection to the fey that exists on such times- this is often when he would go to the Glade of Life to meet Ahearna, although this could happen at any time.
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Old 09-03-2020, 03:26 AM
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Name: Female half-Ork RangerVenicka
Planar Origin: Prime - Toril
Concept: A lost lamb who, last she knew, had been fighting for the wrong side, in a war she did not wish to be a part of.
What Does it Mean?: For Venicka, life is survival. Doing whatever it takes, to live to see the next day. There is nothing more to it than that. Life, and then death. Everything in between was lies.

Description: Venicka is a half-Ork with dark green skin, and 2 small tusks that grow upward from her mouth. Her head is mostly shaved, except for a mohawk down the center that is as black as squid ink. Her most striking physical characteristic, are her eyes, which are the color of blue sapphires. She has numerous tattoos that cover her body, most of them covering the multitude of scars she has earned over her lifetime.

For the last half of her life, she has been unable to be her true self, as her "allies" would likely kill her for not being as fanatical as they are. But if she were to let them in, they would find a kind caring young woman who would prefer not to kill anyone ever again. She would rather be a farmer, than a warrior. She wants nothing more than to raise animals and grow crops. To live a simple life, with someone who loves and cares for her, like her father once did.

2 Allies and 1 Enemy: It is hard to have allies, when you are the outsider among villains. But there were two that Venicka would like to believe could have been friends, under other circumstances.

1 - Marluck the Grim - Male half-Ork Ranger - All Venicka knew of Marluck was that he had once been a slave to the Cult of Tiamat. He had somehow risen up through the ranks, proving himself worthy of being a Dragonclaw. During their mission to enter the keep, she found they worked well together, and began to feel a kinship toward him.
2 - Gregori Kelvorikav - Male Dwarven Artificer - Venicka didn't learn much about Gregori, but during the short time before he disappeared, she began to feel that she could trust him. He protected and spoke in defense of her, after the others of her team had questioned her loyalty. His disappearance created a new vacuum in her life.

1 - Callen Langar - Male Human Bard? Rogue? - Callen, if the really is his name, was the first man, that Venicka had fallen in love with. And while a part of her still feels the sting of his betrayal, leaving her with the Cult; there is another part that still loves him deeply. If she were to face him now, she isn't sure what she'd do when she ran to him. Would she, as she had in the past, shower him with kisses. Or would she take the opportunity to knock him senseless. Maybe a little of both.

1 - Agnes Wildes - Female Human Warlock - There were many within their cohort that Venicka could count as an enemy. But none more so that the old hag. Venicka was fearful most of Agnes, feeling as if the old witch could see through her, to her very soul. And the way she took pleasure in torturing her victims... Venicka was sure that old Agnes was manipulating her, attempting to twist Venicka to be as evil as she.

Custom Prompts
Arrival on the Planes: Venicka isn't sure how she arrived in Sigil. One moment she was hiding behind a tree, readying an attack on incoming soldiers of the enemy. The next she was in this foreign world, unsure of what to do with her newfound freedom. After a moment, she decided the best thing to do would be look for a tavern and get cleaned up. She has learned in the past that most people don't talk to strangers who smell of death and sweat.

Deep Dark Secret: While Venicka has killed many in the name of the dragon-goddess, they are not what she regrets most. This is what truly happened, the day Venessa ran away from home, and was led into a life of servitude to the Cult of the Dragon:

As she stared at her father's face, not wanting to believe what she now knew to be true, she felt something wet running down her arm. The man sitting next to her said nothing, and then slumped forward. She cradled him to her, whispering words of forgiveness, of love for a father who had abused her mother. But he never made another sound, he didn't even move. Still there was the wet liquid, and something in her hand. Gently she pushed her father up, and found that she was holding her dagger. A dagger that slipped from its human sheath, more blood flowing from the fatal wound. Callen was there...

Past is Prologue: Venessa was raised by her human father, Nicklus Ondler, and her orkish mother, Voleega, on a farm outskirts of Secomber. Her mother had been bought many years before, and had been beaten into a submissive life, cooking, cleaning, working the fields, and keeping Nicklus' bed warm on cold winter nights. Which is how Venessa came into the world.

The child, his child, softened Nicklus... somewhat. He never abused Venessa, instead he taught her through love and affection how to work on the farm, how to hunt, and how to take care of the animals. He even began to treat her mother better, and to Venessa's eyes, they loved each other. She never knew the brutality for which her mother had lived before her birth. Voleega died just as Venessa was About 16 years oldbeginning to reach womanhood. She was found in the field by her daughter. She had tripped and fallen as she had been walking toward the plow, her head split open upon the blade. Venessa cried for over a month.

Over the next 5 years, to be precise. Making her 21.many years, Venessa spent more time in the forest, hunting and learning how to survive in the wild. She would bring home her kills, and cook them for her proud father. It was while she was hunting in the High Forest that she met a young warrior by the name of Callen Langar. Unlike the boys in the nearby village, whom Venessa had been warned by both parents would treat her with cruelty, Callen treated her with kindness. They sat and talked, mostly him. He would tell her of places he had been, wondrous things he had seen, victorious battles he had fought in.

One night, as the pair laid under the stars, Callen regaling Venessa with a tale of Storm Silverhand of Shadowdale, he rolled over and went silent. Venessa, wondering why he'd stop talking, looked to him, and soon found his hand softly caressing her face. Cradling her head in his hand, he leaned over and kissed her. They made love that night. It was better than Venessa had ever believed it could be. In the morning, Callen left her, telling her that he needed to report back to his captain, but that he would be back within a week. The beginning of the week went by quickly, as Venessa floated during her chores on the farm. One week turned into two, then three. And the longer he was away, the more Venessa longed for his touch. Until one day he returned.

Venessa ran to him, knocking him down and kissing him roughly. Wanting him with every ounce of her being. When they finally calmed from the storm of kisses, Callen held her head to his chest. He had learned bad things while he was away. He met a man who had known Nicklus Ondler, from before he was a simple farmer. When Nicklus fought in defense of the Western Heartlands against Ork raiders, they called him Nicholaus Urukvras, Ork Killer. He also told her he had proof, a witness, that her mother had been murdered those many years before. Of course, Venessa didn't want to believe it, and shoved Callen away. With tears streaming down her face, she ran back inside. When her father asked her what was wrong, and tried to comfort her, she told him what she had heard. She didn't know what she expected to see, but what she saw wasn't what she wanted. His face told her that he'd been caught, his sputtering told her she was about to be lied to.

Venessa fled the house that she had grown up in, all she could see was his lying eyes as he tried to explain. But she could not, would not hear it. Callen was there, she doesn't remember when, but he was there now and he cradled her in his arms, telling her that they needed to leave, to run away. He would take her to his captain, there she could forever leave her past behind. She could make her life anew, and serve a greater cause. She changed her name from the human-sounding name of Venessa to the more orkish Venicka.

Powers: Even now, with freedom found in a new world, she can feel the pull of Tiamat. And stranger still, to her, is that the pull feels so much stronger here. The feeling is sickening, not to mention frightening. Venicka wishes nothing more than to be free of her old mistress. But she knows not who to trust. She has been lied to all her life. How can she possibly trust herself to follow the right path.

It is with this view that Venicka sees all so-called gods, with fear. Gods are powerful beings who play with their pawns, and discard them on a whim.

A Day in the Life: When she first arrived, she had not known what exactly they were training for, nor did she care. She only wanted to immerse herself into something and forget. Forget what Callen had told her about her father. Forget the thoughts of what her mother must have gone through, before and possibly after Venessa was born. She didn't care, she put all her effort into being a good soldier, learning the use of new weapons, and furthering her training with her bow, the only part of her past life she refused to give up.

Her life consisted of nothing more than training for long hours, earning more than her fair share of scars at the beginning. She would get a single meal of cold stew, sometimes with a treat of meat, before retiring back to her sleeping pad where she'd fall fast asleep, only to start again the drudgery of the next day. Whenever she had a moment to do so, Venicka would ask around for Callen. But those she asked either didn't know him, or they'd tell her he was away, finding more recruits. It took too long for her to finally stop dreaming of the man who had lured her away from the farm. It had become increasingly clear that he never truly loved her. She longed to return home, but she knew that she could never do so. She was trapped.

It took her almost Making her 23.two years of hard work, but finally Venicka was given the chance to prove herself worthy in the eyes of Tiamat. She had to frame a shopkeeper of withholding payments, and therefore taxes. It would have been a simple task, for a thief. Or a spy. Venicka was neither of those. And yet, with Tiamat's blessings, Venicka succeeded in having the man arrested, and his store shut down while they investigated the matter further.

Within a month of her return, Venicka was inducted into the ranks of the venerated Dragonclaws. With this upward movement, Venicka felt joy at the respect she garnered from lesser cultists. She was fed better food, freshly cooked and still hot. But this newfound respect and proper food did not last long, as the next day she and five of her fellow Dragonclaws, were sent out on a mission. They were to infiltrate fortress protecting the town of Greenest, and help bring the armies down from the inside. From there, the Cult of the Dragon would lay waste to the rest of the Sword Coast, with the ultimate goal of releasing Tiamat from the Nine Hells, and watch as she has her vengeance upon all of Toril.

Blood on Her Hands: Venicka remembers well how they broke Greenest. After silencing... no, slaughtering a rival scouting party, the plan was made for how best to get inside the fortress, and bring down the gate that would bring the fall of Greenest, and begin the scouring of the land. The aforementioned Gregori and Agnes were joined by the beautiful Half-Elf noble, and rogue, Lady Alyssandra. The three ran from the treeline where they were hidden, and and merged with another group of peasants who were fleeing the carnage sown by the main body of the Cult's army.

Giving them time to get well enough ahead, Venicka, Marluck, and the last of their number, Szador, gave chase. Venicka took this opportunity to release some of her anger and intentionally sent an arrow into the old hag's thigh. This earned her a mailed backhand from Szadorthe aristocratic fighter, after they retreated from the battlefield. But the deception was sold, and their team was accepted as one with the refugees within.

Soon after, the party relayed their success to Cyanwrath, the Dragonborn leading the army. The army gathered around the fortress, a show of force that those within should fear, but likely felt secure instead. Silently, the remaining three dragonclaws climbed the outside of the fortress, kobolds hanging off their backs, so as to assist in attacking the archers from above. Everything seemed to happen at once. Marluck and Venicka followed the line of archers on the left curve of the upper walkway, and Szador and the kobolds went right. At about the same time, one of their number from within threw open the fortress gates, and the Cult of the Dragon flooded in.

The battle did not last long. And while Venicka regrets her part in the slaughter of so many, this is not what keeps Venicka awake most nights. No, it was from something that was done earlier in the day, when they had come across the enemy scouts. Venicka had put the final arrow into an old man, killing him quickly, as the others dispatched most of the rest. Soon though, it was the six of them, staring at one young redheaded lass, younger than even Venicka herself. Venicka yelled at the girl, encouraging her to flee. She lied to the others, telling them she did it to sow fear into the defender's hearts. In truth, she just couldn't bear to watch something so pure, so beautiful die.

And yet, the others did not see things the same as Venicka. They never would, of course. Marluck was swift, and easily caught the girl up and dragged her back. Agnes, who seemed to take pleasure in tormenting her, offered Venicka her own dagger as she explained what she would do to the youngling if Venicka did not her self kill the girl. Using her own dagger, Venicka slit the girl's throat, and watched helplessly as cold death came over her eyes. Eyes that will forever haunt Venicka's nightmares.
Has taken the Oath of Sangus.
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