[Characters] Round 0 - Applications

[SelfAwareNPC]

 

This looks like fun. Lets see what random dice-rolls get me as a random PC!CHARACTER CREATION
Race - Randomly Generated - (HUMAN)

Dice Race:

1d6

1

Character Number (CN) - Randomly Generated - 3 (LITTLE MORE INTELLECTUAL THAN PHYSICAL)

Dice CN:

1d6

6

Dice CN Reroll:

1d6

6

Dice CN Reroll:

1d6

3

Dice CN Reroll:

1d6

4

EDIT: I Don't know why I doubled my last reroll. Going with first as default

APPICATION NAME: KAYLE NOVAK, The Promising Flunkie RACE: HUME CN: 3 SIGNATURE EQUIPMENT: Throwing Daggers, Thieves Tools, Eddie the Imp Familiar(SpellFocus) - Serves as Bad Influence SIGNATURE MOVES (2): Dagger Toss, Spellcaster SPELLS(2+Cantrips): Psychic communication with Eddie, who will be the caster Fortune Tell - +/-1 bonus on next action per d6 success Illusion - Useful in deceiving and hiding actions and intent BACKGROUND WIP

[AnotherDragoon]

 

Stat Block Name: Kase-13 the wanderer Race: Dice Roll: 1d6 6 (6) Android CN: Dice Roll: 1d6rc1,6 3 (Rerolls: rerolled 1,6) (3) Gear: Deimos Blade: A one-handed titanium alloy sword with a monomolecular filament edge Omnitool Hephaestus: A versatile tool stored in his left forearm used for assembly, disassembly, and repairs among other things. Gnosis Drive: A small cube located in his head that contains the Advanced Situational Awareness and Perception field which governs Advanced Protocols Signature Moves (Custom Programs): Kill Mode Active: When a hostile entity is detected his violence inhibitors can be deactivated granting access to multiple combat procedures. Advanced Protocols (Spellcasting): The A.S.A.P. field allows the Gnosis Drive to run Advanced Protocols Known Spells (Advanced Protocols): Promethean Beam: (Damage) A concentrated energy beam emitted from a small lens concealed in his forehead Nanite Swarm Panacea: (Healing) A small swarm of minuscule robots deployed from his hands capable of repairing both organic and inorganic materials.

An interdimensional transient android Name: Kase-13 the wanderer Description: At first glance, he appears to be nothing more than an average man, with high cheekbones and a sculpted chin, of indeterminate age, somewhere between mid-twenties and thirties, with a smooth, fair complexion and a slim athletic build. The only immediate tell that Kase-13 isn’t human is his eyes, they are actually mirrored black lenses. Upon a closer look, one could note fine seams in his otherwise flawless skin. He stands just under two meters tall and has silvery-blue hair that seems perpetually mussed. His regal bearing and statuesque poise coupled with the graceful movements of a dancer, or stalking cat, make it obvious that Kase was created by someone with utmost care for form as well as function. Personality: Observant and inquisitive, Kase always strives to learn and discover which can lead to being easily distracted. He is calm and practical making him good in a crisis but his tendencies to apply logic to everything make it difficult for him to recognize and understand certain emotions. This can make him seem rather insensitive or aloof at times but he is a loyal friend capable of forming strong bonds. Kase can struggle with personal space and boundaries. His intense drive to learn and experience new things can lead to unnecessary risks and danger. Backstory: The thirteenth, and ultimately successful, attempt by Dr. Hiroyuki Ginrou to house an emergent Artificial Intelligence in a synthetic humanoid. Kase's A.I. was developed using scans of Dr. Ginrou's own brain waves and neural architecture, it is capable of learning and responding to complex external stimuli as well as replicating emotion and has been operational for five years, seven months, two weeks, and four days. While his primary purpose is assisting the Dr. in research and development, Kase was also programmed with many combat techniques to protect Ginrou and his work from the many rivals who would love to claim his projects as their own. Their main field of study was the Multiverse Theory but Dr. Ginrou's ultimate goal is to unravel the mysteries of reality and definitively answer that age-old question, "Why?". Most of his daily active cycle was devoted to helping Hiroyuki produce his magnum opus, The Olympus Bridge. He said it would be "The key to unlock the doors of knowledge" and with the infinite expanse of parallel words available, true understanding would become not only a possibility but an inevitability. Five years Kase spent helping to build what others scoffed at as impossible. Who knows how much of his life Ginrou dedicated to his theorem but he had already lived for more than fifty years before creating Kase-13. Upon completing a working model of the Bridge, streams of complex data and strange signals began pouring through. Kase advised they try to decode the wealth of information before proceeding with the next phase but Hiroyuki was convinced it was another scholar like himself reaching out across the multiverse. Something was trying to make contact, there was no denying the fact. So, they pushed forward with the project and finally opened up the Olympus Bridge. That was the last time Kase-13 saw or spoke to his creator Dr. Hiroyuki Ginrou, just before he took that first step into the unknown. History with the Companions: As soon as he crossed the Olympus Bridge it destabilized and collapsed effectively marooning him in a strange universe. But while in the space between dimensions, Kase-13 collect4ed a wealth of strange data. Approximately sixty percent of it was corrupted when the bridge went down and his connection to Ginrou’s network was severed but from the remaining data, he was able to decode and extrapolate enough to determine something else came through at the exact moment he left causing the disturbance that collapsed the bridge. Now he was stuck far away from home with no way of contacting his creator and experiencing a strange sensation he would come to learn was anxiety. He was determined to re-establish communication with Dr. Ginrou and find a way to duplicate the Olympus Bridge here. But, the technology of this universe was nowhere near that of his home. He traveled the world for two months, one week, and five days learning about the strange people and creatures that called this place home. Eventually, Kase learned of people capable of bending the laws of reality or ignoring them altogether. A large amount of these special beings had formed an organization called the Crossing Companions. He sought them out and joined their ranks in hope of learning everything he could about their “Magic” and powers that seemed so much like some of the technology from Hiroyuki’s lab. For the last 5.20 months, he has been working and learning from this collection of exceptional people but still remains far from his goal of returning to his home dimension. Possibly The Nine would know of a way…

[lostcheerio]

 

Stat Block Name: Rammariel Silvermist, the Dwarf who was Raised by Elves Race: Dwarf Dice Race: d6 4 Character Number: 4 Dice Character Number: d6 4 Adventuring Gear: AG: Boots of "Elvenkind." Bespoke. Not of Elvenkind. Special-wide, sturdy, boots made for Rammariel by kind, gentle, loving leatherworker in Arfalas who told him, "They're totally boots of Elvenkind! They will make you dance so nice, Rammariel! Like a naiad!" The thing is, he really believes it. So, do the air quotes really need to be there? (Yes.) AG:Book, How to Be a Great Elf Without Even Trying. Rammariel authored this book. Chapters include how to leap effortlessly across glittering river stones, how to dance in a glade like the stars are fire, how to make a canoe describe a perfect line on mirror lake, how to sing with your own echo in a crystal cave, how to split a blade of grass as a reed for a fey oboe, and more. Illustrated in beautiful color panels by his great friend Luriel Singborne, signed by all the well-meaning elves who supported his effort by contributing the actual content. SF: Harp. A four-octave harp, spruce inlaid with silver. Its pedals are pearl, its strings are strong wire of varying widths. Rammariel plays very well. He has practiced a ton. If his glissandos are a little mechanical, who is to criticize? If he sweats when he plays, well? When it's time for choir or dance team practice, Rammariel provides the rehearsal harp music. Of course Jorronda Tsilion, harp virtuoso, steps in to play for the actual performance -- who would expect otherwise? And of course, Rammariel spent rehearsal time providing the harp accompaniment -- he isn't prepared to sing or dance. A shame! But he is appreciated. Signature Moves: SM: The Broken Toy. A dance style that Rammariel has developed, pairing sharp brave movements with the dark passion of a toy soldier who has stared into the abyss and found nothing looking back. The pivotal sequence is a ronde de jambe into an assemblé, followed by some sweeping high kicks. In practice, it resembles an old lady fighting off bees with her feet. His fellow dancers call it "The Broken Toad." KS: Reliable Rehearsal Chords: Buff. Functional, predictable music to help other people practice the dance or song that they will be performing, adding an Outplay d6 to a future Outplay roll. Cantrips: Moonlight Blossom: Makes night flowers bloom, release scent, and pop into glitter. Haunting Arpeggio. You've heard of the devil's triad. This is that plus an unresolved eleventh, diminished by a whole basically practical, happy person trying to evoke a depth of sadness he doesn't actually feel. Rammariel has worked hard trying to suppress his inner sea shanty, his rollicking mining tune, his drinking chorus. This is the result. It reminds allies of the sparkling reaches of eternity. It reminds foes of their doom. It has no mechanical effect.

Character Write-up Character Portrait WIP Description: Yearning. Dear. Why is everyone so freaking tall. Hates redcaps and witches. Secretly has a lot of upper body strength. Avoids stairs to keep calves slender. Rammariel's face in its natural state is a cheerful grin ringed by a frizzy halo of red, with loose boundaries between beard and hair. With tiny braids and an arcane straightener, he can get the long smooth look, but so far he's not been able to fully master the 1000-year stare that comes so naturally to his elven friends. Like imagine Luke Kelly, but trying to be Mazzy Star. He wears a mithril alloy tunic and sucks in his gut when he walks past arcane portals. Backstory: It must have been the wyverns high above, fighting over their spoils after a raid on the dwarven city to the north, who dropped a dwarf baby into the loving arms of Pilara and Torol Silvermist, the owners of the Vertitas Performing Arts Center. But they credit the Seldarine for sending them a child after decades of believing they could never have one. Rammariel was raised by his two doting parents, both of them legends of the stage. Pilara taught him how to sing, and Torol taught him how to dance, and... well, they tried. "He is our little lamb!" they said, wrangling his curly locks into ballet buns. "He is our gift from above!" Through years of laser focus and determination, they were able to produce a somewhat metallic glow about their child. But Rammariel Silvermist was never quite silvery enough. Career in Crossing Companions: When Rammariel's romantic affection for Undomiel Brightstar was met with a warm hug and back pat, the suspicions that had been rising within him for years blossomed into a firm resolve. While he was loved by the elves, he was not seen. While he was accepted, he was not truly known. Rammariel knew he had to leave the beautiful city of Veritas, and all the elves he cared about, to find real love and to find himself. Her beautiful words rang in his ears like the bright bells in the chapel of Correlon as he took to the road: What. No. Ha. Ha. Ha. You're. Like. A. Brother. Rammariel. Oh. My. Gosh. I. Love. You. So. Much. That's. So. Funny. Wow. Pain makes change. In the Crossing Companions, Rammariel has found his true fate! In adventuring, he has become useful! His Broken Toy dance moves can actually knock the heads off kobolds sometimes! His middle C harp string can be used as a garotte! He still sings, dances, and stares at his reflection in the stars, but he's beginning to think his true self lies beyond the mithril tunic, not within it. This is an ugly duckling story. Or maybe it's a reverse ugly duckling story. Because Rammariel isn't a swan. He has a story to tell, where you use a harp to bash in a door. Where you drink cider by the liter, rather than morning dew by the crystal goblet. Where you tromp through tunnels instead of tripping through trees. A story of a dwarf.

[Fillyjonk]

 

[Jerzima]

Done!

 

Stat Block Property Result Description Name: Jora Blightspear Troll Survivalist Race Dice Race: 1d6 6 Exotic: Troll CN Dice CN: 1d6 5 Swords AG Description SM AG #1 Hunting Spear Poisoned Jab AG #2 Cloak of Troll-kind Magical Camouflage AG #3 Herbalist kit Signature Move Poisoned Jab: Jora coats the spearhead of his hunting spear with a wicked black poison seeking to take his prey down quickly and efficiently. Signature Move Magical Camouflage: With the cloak of Troll-Kind Jora can either magically blend in with his environment like a chameleon or can create an illusion of a jungle or forest animal. The camouflage makes the troll difficult to detect and aids with stealth. The illusory animal does not hold up to close inspection or physical interaction and is mainly used for sneaking up on prey. CN = 5 No spelly spells KS Spell Name Spell Type Spell Effect KS#1 Name here Type here Effect here KS#2 Name here Type here Effect here KS#3 Name here Type here Effect here KS#4 Name here Type here Effect here

Character Write Up Art by Harkalé Linaï Jora, a full-sized troll with pale blue skin and a fiery red mohawk, stands out like a broken tusk. He carries himself with a slouched posture, for fear of angering the jungle spirit Telikwa Jin, but even slouched he stands more than seven feet tall. The troll survivalist carries a large hunting spear that he calls "Da Boss" and wears a leaf-like cape adorned with hunting trophies. To others, Jora would appear to be flippant and extremely eccentric as he regularly confers with a shrunken head, named Jul Mal. Jora keeps Jul Mal tied at his waist but hidden behind his cloak from the view of others. Jora's carefree attitude is quickly dropped when hunting his foes or collecting rare medicinal ingredients. After the calamity inflicted the Blightspear tribe with the "stone sickness", a terrible curse that slowly turned his friends into grotesque statutes. Jora set out into what remained of the world to discover a cure, having been miraculously spared. Jora joined the Crossing Companions with some difficulty, combating both monsters and misplaced prejudice. He proved himself to the guild by obtaining the rare midnight orchid, a key ingredient needed for a salve that cures magical blindness. Jora then went on numerous hunts for dangerous creatures such as the manticore of Casterwall and put to rest a banshee for the town of Beet. The world outside of the Blightspear tribe's little village is a very strange jungle but one that Jora intends to master. Jora longs to save his tribe from their stony fate and allies himself with anyone that will help his cause.

[GeneT]

 

Tikum Menikem

A bit'a Shadow Safe and Sound When I had nothing I had Darkness. When I was orphan small it hid me. I needed not warmth nor crying in the Darkness. Just dirty knees and open eyes. I needed not worry about larger clumsy things; Men with bright mail, Women with bright words, Boys with bright thighs, or Girls with bright hands. They could not see me or find me or use me or hurt me in the Darkness. I was shadow and shadow was me. I fed its dark things and they feed me until the shadows gave me courage to take them into the light. And now as I walk the world, the shadows attached to my feet remind me that the Darkness is never far away and I can slip into to it when need or desire or demand. I do not hide from clumsy things any more. I bring them to the Darkness with blooded hands or smooth words and pay my debt to the shadows. The Darkness doesn't care whether it eats the Good or the Bad. Just that it eats. Appearance: It would be best if I were terribly malformed. Hideous. It would make it easier. At least for me. And yet by some cruel sparkle of fate, I am not hideous or terribly malformed. No matter what I would wish. My skin is bright. My hair jet luminous. The turn of my hips following the turn of my smile. And despite what dark lay inside me, I have one eye that shines like the moon. I would wish to be unsightly. Yet, whatever power that rolled the dice of my life had an unfortunate lucky streak. And the numbers don't lie. I wonder if the shadows had that in mind when I was chosen. If they could tell by some flickering aura about my flesh that I would grow to this thing that is coveted. And, when pressed by something unspeakable to the death that I deserve, that that unspeakable thing would pause for just one more look at me. One last inhale of my glamour. One last caress of my velvet flesh. And then die as the darkness I call coalesces and feasts upon it. As if the shadows actually do have a preference for things of a certain nature. Hush and lay you down to sleep. Background: I hadn't intended to link with the companions, but after the Cloister I was rung out and beaten. Even my shadow was ragged. Going it alone had taken its toll on my skin and I felt cold for the first in a very long time. I was laid up in some stable attached to some country inn and alehouse when them bright things came about. I wanted to lay low, drift away, and let the darkness take me, but their laughter was hellishly loud and I was lonely. So I crawled my curves from the damp straw and pretended not ta take notice. That didn' work one bit. I'm not sure if'n it was Gest or Simmy - they were both fine although she was a might more liquid than he - but one drink led ta another and the boasting got wide and deep. Before the night was over I was hitched. Crewed. Logged, Named, Brokered, and Paid. Been Crossing Company ever since. I'd admit, an others will tell it true, it was rough fer a while 'till the crew got used to me and what it is I am. I almost left half a dozen times in those first few weeks. And sure, I may understand them bein' a bit jumpy after the first time three score or so shadow rats gnawed a man to the bone or left that mountain troll skinned and quivering on the Bridge to Kaloon. I think things turned around after we had a run at those deranged slavering cultists and their tentacled monster god. So, yeah, alls good now for the most part. We lost Simmy a few months ago. And that hurt in a way I didn't know possible. Even my shadow seemed wane. Sometimes I still find a bit of damp straw ta sleep in. It warms up in the dark, especially as Gest often joins me. She and the Company have come to terms with the Darkness and it's better then feeding it all by myself.

Shadows and Numbers Name : Tikum Menikem Race : Elven Character Number : 2 Gear The Desiccated Skull of a Crow (SF) : Yellow Bones. A silent beak. Blackened Eye Sockets. A Bit of Amber : A clasp and a chain. Tight around her neck. A glint of light ensnares the eye to curved lips and round words. A worthless skinning dagger : For when the shadows fail and fish need cleaning. Signature Move(s) One Last Look : A quick smile. A modest nod. A capture of breath. A catch of amber. All you need is to listen to the sound of my lips and be persuaded to do as I wish for just one last....... Known Spells Sliver of Darkness: Between the lines of stone, along the edges and corners, exist without notice, shadowed from eyes and ears. The Shadows of Rats : A clamoring of pips. Dust ridden. Foul and hungry. Crawling from underneath, up legs, across torsos, at one's neck. Always gnawing, gnawing, gnawing until dead. A Tragic Silhouette : Betrayed by your own shadow. A whispered confidence of your own lips. A confusing sound. A tangle of feet. A black misty garrote across one's throat if needed. It's a harsh world when one's shadow is un-trustable. When it can confuse, subdue, convince, or kill. The Suffocating Slaughter : Quiet. It's time to sleep. Waking is uncertain. One last breath or a pleasant dream is but a whim of the Dark.

[BlackDragon0]

this is a work in progress will need help as I ain't sure how things work here PM s welcome.

 

ooc Name: Demmuk Class: Samurai ( dual wield/ Swordsmaster) Race: Dragonborn CN: 5 Ag: katanas. Ag: Journal with everything he has come across in this travels. Creatures, maps, people, towns ect. Ag:kimono which helps him blend in anywhere from traveling in the wilds to ballrooms with lords. SM1: Sword dance. A whirlwind sword attack that hits multiple targets until all are dead or a miss. SM2: Dragon intimidation. Demmuk's red outlines on his black scales glow as flames surround his jaw his eyes narrow with a glowing flame like appearance. Causing great fear in his enemies, such as if they were being chased by a huge red dragon. (aided by his kimono which also has designs that glow red to add to the effect)

ooc Demmuk is the son of a red and a black as such his scales are black with dark red outlines. When Demmuk uses his fire breath weapon all the red out lines glow like heated steel fresh from the forge. He stands 61/2 feet tall. very mucked. His teeth and horns are red as well. giving him a very monstrous look. He wears black clothes with a black chain shirt. A black cloak ( which is large enough to hide him from head to toe.) And is armed with 2 katanas and a diakyu. He is a honorable warrior. Who doesn't drink or smoke anything. Who protects others with his life ( even if they can protect themselves.) But is also honor & revenge bound to hunt and kill the Reddragon that attacked his clan. Demmuk is Dragonborn. Dragonborn are a tribal race who put the tribe above all else. Demmuk's father was Lord Shogun of the clan. They protected all the goodly creatures of their realm( land/ kingdom/ country) As warriors they are trained from birth In fighting styles of the clan. At age 8 he was trained in whatever weapons he chose.( Katana& diakyu:great bow) Most in the clans can use 1 weapon. a few are skilled enough to use two short weapons( sia, kama, wasakai) Demmuk was the first to choose and be able to use 2 katana. He excelled. And was soon taught to use diakyu as well. By 15 had mastered both. He was perhaps the best fighter in the clan. And even though he was the youngest , of 5 ,he was named aire. He was placed in the honorguard with his four brothers and the five best warriors of the clan. At age 17 a evil Reddragon came . First it was hunting dragonborn warriors 1 by 1. Then it attacked a village. And then it came for the Shogun and the main village. It killed all in its path. When it came for them the Shogun ordered his honor guard to cover Demmuk saying " The clan must live on through you my son!" After killing the Shogun and his honor guard the red dragon killed every dragonborn in the land .He burned everything leaving the once beautiful realm a burnt wasteland. 2 days later Demmuk woke up beneath the charred remains of his father and brothers. ( Who were immune to poison or ice unlike Demmuk who unknowingly was immune to fire.) A partially burnt scroll was shoved under him. It read....( You are the Samurai warlord/ Shogun now! You must find and kill the evil dragon. Protect the realm and rebuild the clan.) For a year now Demmuk has tracked and traced every lead on the Reddragon that killed his clan. He has traveled to far away lands where he is both feared and hunted. Now he only goes near villages and towns to listen to its people for rumors. or tales of red dragons. But never enters and has lost the trail. He must now figure out how to find it and how to rebuild his home when everyone is different and afraid. And his kind are unknown. He recently joined crossing companions in hopes of being less feared, making friends, and learning of the Reddragon. This will be his first mission.

[Stadiumite]

Application finished enough. I'd like to write more, but the basics are here. I may not get a chance to add more over the course of the next week. Take whatever is here on the application deadline date as being final.

 

Name Kiko - The Goat Mage

Race Dice RandomRace: 1d6 6 Exotic - Satyr

CharacterNature Dice RandomCN: 1d6 6 Dice ReRoll: 1d6 1 Dice ReRoll: 1d6 1 Dice ReRoll: 1d6 2

Gear 1 - Wand 2 - Wooden Flute 3 - Large Pack

Moves 1 - Known Spells a-Disguise b-Sting c-Heal d-Arcane Step 2 - Headbutt - Weapon Attack

Spell Details Name: Disguise Effect: Utility This spell allows the caster to hide his Satyr appearance temporarily, hiding his goat-like legs and his horns with a more human appearance. Name: Sting Effect: Damage This spell strikes a target with a painful damaging sting, as if being attacked by a swarm of bees Name: Heal Effect: Healing Name: Arcane Step Effect: Utility This spell allows the caster to move himself up to 30 feet away, to a location that his can see.

Description Kiko is a Satyr - a creature crudely described as half-goat/half-man. From the waist down he is indeed quite like a goat, with hair covered legs bent in a manner that seems very awkward to people. He has hooves instead of feet. His upper body is like that of a man, except for prominent horns on his head. He wears a goatee on his face. He wears only a loin-cloth. He carries a large open sack around his shoulder, and a wodden flute. He is strong, robust, and healthy. His nature at first appears to be jovial and carefree. But he has a serious side as well, often becoming quite angry about issues that are important to him.

Backstory Kiko does not know where he came from. His earliest memories are of life lived in a menagerie of creatures collected by an eccentric and wealthy wizard. There were other's within the household who were similar to Kiko in a way. In the stable there was a pair of centaurs. A large pond in the wizard's courtyard was home to a mermaid. The captain of the wizard's guard was a minotaur. Not all the creatures in the wizard's keep were exotic. The Keep was actually a working farm, with livestock of all kinds. When he was young, Kiko literally believed that he was half-goat. He imagined himself to be a creation of the wizard. When he was old enough to work, Kiko became a stable boy, tending to the horses. The wizard himself was a cruel character, who regarded everyone in the Keep as nothing more than property. Punishment for failure or misdeeds was viscous at times. Luckily, the old man was often away on arcane business of one kind or another. The older members of the menagerie took Kiko under their wings. They taught him to read and to write. Kiko was bright, and reached a point where he could study on his own in the wizard's library. He learned about Satyrs, and developed theories about where he might have come from. While studying in the library, Kiko began to read about magic as well. One day he was able to steal a wand from the wizard's residence. He set about learning a spell to disguise himself. Once he had mastered this, he would occasionally sneak out into the outside world, visiting a nearby town. He learned magic for healing, for delivering a painful sting to an enemy, and for teleporting himself a short distance. Once he had mastered these things, he decided to leave the Wizard's Keep forever. Though he desired to return and free the others in the menagerie, he did not try. Yet. Taking on the Wizard would be folly. Angering the old man to that extent would be a fatal mistake. When Kiko has earned a bit of money on his own, his first purchase was a wooden flute. He has no training in how to play it, but nevertheless he tries. From his studies he learned that this instrument is emblematic of his kind, and so he hopes to learn to play it well someday.

History with the Crossing Companions Kiko joined the Crossing Companions for two reasons. While traveling on missions for the Companions, he knew he would be far away from discovery and capture by the old Wizard. He also knew that he might gain new skills, or make allies that might help him one day bring about the end of the cruel old man who had raised him. Kiko's time with the Companions has been short. He's only joined them for three missions, all related to ridding a local village of a group of bandits. The bandits had robbed a supply caravan, and later kidnapped hostages for ransom. The Companions set out to identify who the bandits were, then mounted a hostage rescue mission. Once these things were accomplished, they assembled a posse of townsfolk to help them sack the bandit camp. During the hostage rescue, Kiko suffered a rather serious injury in the form of an arrow to the chest. His healing magic got him through that ordeal.

[bananabadger]

Bronthur Brinehonz, for your consideration

 

Bronthur "Gramps" Brinehonz character background My 300th Birthday Gift. Not the Portrait I Wanted. If I hate any dwarf, it's Shugaro Engendarm. Heard of him? Sure you have. Who hasn't? He's that upstart blacksmith from Hammersomethingorother who made a rash business deal, got his wife killed, and then abandoned his two sons to throw in his lot this year with that gang of thugs who call themselves the Crossing Companions. Sure to win some contest or other to get his spot, most say. Others (and I tend to believe them) say if he does win, it will only be because he'll steal his spot from some nice witch girl. But regardless of what I think, this Shugaro-bro has become practically every dwarf's hero. For the past weeks, all the youngsters in our fishing village have been gripped by Shugaro-fever. They worship him. They want to be him. They want to follow his path into that group of killers and thieves. So how does that affect me? Good question. You would think it wouldn't. I'm not of that generation. I'm 300 years old, and for the past 125 years—ever since I retired from the Crossing Companions Adventuring Guild—I have been living alone in my small but spiffy shack, just off the docks where I keep my fishing boat. Most days, I'm out on the waters, joined by my two crabby companions, Stell and Stella. I'm never sure which one is which (it's hard to tell with old, mated crab pairs) but they seem to be content with one another and they have a knack for finding knucklehead trout deep in the depths. They locate the trout, tell me the location, and then I drop the net and haul the fish up to the surface. The crabs and I work well together, and we split our catchings 50/50 (well, maybe 50/25/25, but they haven't caught on to that yet). I live a good life. In fact, I live a great life for a peg-legged, grey-bearded, diminutive, bespectacled, balding Coastal dwarf. I fish when it's spring, summer and fall. And in the winter, I frequent the opera. You'll always find me (as well as Stell and Stella, whom I hide in my pockets to smuggle them in) somewhere in the balcony section. Sure, those are the cheap seats, but the sound is just as good from there. At least Stell and Stella never complain. I have to admit ... I was hoping that maybe for my 300th birthday all my great-grandkids and great-great-grandkids would pitch together and buy me a reserved-seat season-pass in that fancy loge just above stage-left. Well, that, or maybe commission a portrait of me so I could hang it up in my shack, next to the portraits of my father, and his father, and his father, and his father, and his father...all of our long line of fishermen. But what did they get me instead? You'll never guess. Or, wait, maybe you will—if you've got Shugaro-fever. A hand-drawn portrait (of me, the crabs, some random fish and Shugaro) from one of my least talented great-great-grandkids, an autographed copy of Shugaro Engendarm's autobiography, I Will Not Give Up ... I Will Not Give In!, and a stagecoach fare to Orchardbrick, where the Crossing Companions—and maybe even Shugaro—were said to be gathering. "Just think, Gramps, it's your shot to actually meet some famous adventurers!" said one of the great-grandkids, and she was usually one of the smarter and more polite ones. "Maybe even Shugaro!" Those stupid runts. But you can't blame them. I never told any of them about my past. Nor why I left it. Nor why I throw any summoning letter from Sir Ethan into my fireplace. Yep, those letters go in unopened and immediately upon arrival. (Come to think of it, I got one of those yesterday. Guess where it went? That's right! Into the flames!) Anyway, back to the birthday gifts, what was I to do? I didn't want to seem ungrateful. After all, even I recognized the hassle and expense my progeny would have gone through to get these things (well, maybe not the abominable portrait, but certainly the ticket). So, I gathered up Stell and Stella (they were no more excited about it than was I) just in time for all of the villagers and the fishermen's auxiliary brass band to show up at my door and parade me off to the stagecoach. "If you see Shugaro, say 'hi' for me!" shouted half of the village as my coach raced away. Oh, I will. I will. I'll shake his hand, say "hello," wish him luck and tell him—win or lose—all the dwarves think he's a superstar. That is, after I've spit in his mead. With any luck, I'll be back in time to enjoy the opening night of the opera season. You'll find me amid the cheap seats—which is just how I, Stell, and Stella like it.

Bronthur "Gramps" Brinehonz Stat Bloc Name: Bronthur "Gramps" Brinehonz Race: Dwarf (Coastal) Character Number: 3 Adventuring Gear: Meerschaum peg-leg — Me lucky hollow leg (spell focus; doubles as smoking pipe and contraband container) Opera glasses — Helps see things far away and reveals details in close-up searches (in a pinch, they can start a fire as well!) Crab confederates — Stell and Stella (Or maybe that's Stella on the left and Stell on the right? Like I said, it's hard to tell them apart and if you pick them up to determine who is who, then they get all testy and clickity-clackity and start going on and on about personal shell space and "How would you like it if we started clawing around your floppy parts, dwarfy?" So, yeah ... Stell and Stella or Stella and Stell. Really, your guess is as good as mine.) Signature moves: Bang, Bang! Crabberang! Ranged attack with crabs (can be thrown, then scuttle back for a boomerang effect) He's Got Leg, He Knows How to Use It (The Dwarf's Alright) Known spells cast with lucky leg Cantrips: CrabGab: Enables communication with crab animals, which sounds informative until you realize that most of their limited vocabulary is swear words. Salty creatures. But they do know their weather. Want to know if a storm is blowing in? Ask a crab. Funiculi, Funicula!: Enables voice of willing subject to be projected as a vocal aria of stage-performance quality Known Spells: Blessed Etesians: (Buff—extra 1d6 die roll for ally) Strong winds aid allied movement or increase attack; also create a nice breeze on a hot day Nets Today, Saytan: (Debuff) Unseen fishing nets bind enemy, hindering movement or attack

 

Dice Race roll:

1d6

4

Dice Character Number roll:

1d6

3

[Exfilia]

[DaniLore]

This'll be my first go. Really looking forward to it.

 

App Glass Name: Sapphire Glass: The Killer String Ace Appearance: Despite having a pretty name, Glass, the young Tabaxi is, in fact, a boy. Newcomers to the guild find it hard to resist at first, yet some DO try to pet his lustrous black fur and swishy tail of fluff with their grubby, disgusting hands. If not for their ignorance, Glass would surely reward this offense with a painfully slow death via his retractable claws. He would...but it'd be such a hassle. Instead, he stabs them with his mean-gleaming, hellfire-blue effervescent eyes. Flexible as a contortionist, Glass has a lean build and stands at approximately 5’0. Also, he is roughly thirteen years old. In cat years, that is ancient, but apparently not for Tabaxi. Personality: It takes very little to entertain Glass, though his lighthearted antics have not always gone over so well in the past. Fed up with not being taken seriously, Glass worked hard to sharpen his mind and reflexes so he could be of use to the guild. As a result, he became a phenomenal scout. Though he lacks experience, Glass more than makes up for it with tenacious pluck. Certainly, he is not one to fret about dirtying his claws. Playful and curious, shiny baubles and sparkly gems are a welcome sight, but the pursuit of knowledge and fascinating fables are far more valuable to him than gold. His childhood dream is to become a vigilante folk hero, to right as many wrongs as he physically can. Though he is young and perhaps too optimistic for his own good, the fact that the world is dark and full of suffering is a bitter lesson he too has tasted, as countless have. After their clan was decimated, there is no one in the world Glass loves more than his clever sister, Silver Chimes. Ultimately, he longs to prove himself a worthy adventurer to make her proud. Hopefully, one day he will have many great, fantastical feats of his own to share with Silver and their new guild family. Background: When Glass thinks of home, his mind wanders to vague, far-flung memories of chillwinds and snow-clad cliffs. Silver and Glass hail from an ancient clan shrouded in mystery, their ancestral grounds tucked away within the high clefts of an isolated mountain. They are the last kindred of the Roaming Cloud, unique for their affinity for cold and shadow magic. Wary of strangers, the elders were fiercely protective of their clan secrets. Anything and anyone who ventured close, be it a beast or lost adventurer, were summarily dispatched. He was just a small kit when Silver whisked him from their mountain; but, according to her, the great demon had been loosed. In a time long lost to legend and mystic yore, there was once a soul-eating demon that roamed the world, a harbinger of death, feasting wherever its shadow fell. Whole villages could be wiped out in a day, insatiable as it was. One day, the demon fell upon the servants of a benevolent mountain god. Coveting a soul so ancient and wise, the demon mistook the god’s kindness for weakness--easy prey. After great tumult and destruction, to protect his worshipers, the mountain god sacrificed his flesh to seal the demon away inside the deep rock. All that remained was his magnificent soul; and, for centuries the Roaming Cloud had safeguarded it along with the seal…yet, an unforeseen calamity changed all that. Fearing the demon's retribution, Silver and Glass fled through the vast wilderness, searching for a safe haven to rest. Thankfully, Fate smiled upon them, as they were taken in by the mercenaries of the Crossing Companions Adventuring Guild. Silver quickly proved her worth, rising through the ranks with little effort. Glass excelled at being a lazy prankster, deft at shirking his chores and dodging practice. However, as time went by, hearing of Silver’s exploits woke him to the fact that if he didn’t toughen his bite, he would be left behind in more ways than one. Folks in the guild already viewed him as more of a cute and fuzzy mascot, dull-fanged and oblivious to the ways of the world. More importantly, as the clan shaman, his father had held high expectations for him. Unwilling to see their precious traditions be forever lost, Glass applied himself under Silver’s tutelage. Unfortunately, Silver knew him all too well, especially that which ruffled his murderous inclinations. To his absolute horror, myriads of mercenaries happily volunteered themselves for a friendly spar--if only for the chance to brutally smother an overgrown ball of angry fluff. His agility improved so quickly no one could believe it. After the tortuous training sequence had reached its end, Silver gifted him with three clan treasures; a curiously constructed throwing blade; a trinket box full of deadly-string; and, a shiny bauble that Silver had always referred to as her "lucky jade talisman." Not long after, Glass departed on his first field mission at the age of twelve. In the span of a year, Glass not only crossed the face of the continent, satiating his wanderlust, but he has definitely earned his place as a trusty guild-brother. Of note, Glass blinded a belligerent cyclops during a trek through the Valley of Bones, prevented a hoard of goblins from ambushing their camp, and hunted menacing wraiths with the best of them. His last and most dangerous mission involved sneaking into the tower of Mortboliot the Wyrd—a vile necromancer suspected of fueling many of the evils that plague the South. After slipping through a somewhat impenetrable gate, Glass smashed a few bone sentries and opened the way for victory. However, Mortboliot managed to escape by the skin of his teeth, vowing revenge of course. Despite losing their prey, this sweeping conquest filled the guild vault to the brim and bought Glass a one-way ticket to Orchardbrick. Statblock Name: Sapphire Glass Race: Tabaxi CN: (4) Adventuring Gear (AG): 1. Nine Lives (Six-Pointed Hand Glaive) 2. Oni-Box of String 3. Eye of the Mountain God (SF) Signature Moves (SM): 1. Oni-Box Special Technique 2. Known Spells cast with Holy Symbol/Spell Focus Known Spells (KS) 1. Shadow Leap: Utility-Teleportation. Leap from one shadow to another within sight. Allows for passing through walls, but blindly doing so may have consequences.

Dice CN:

1d6

4

[Drachenspirit]

Let's do this. Going for random and build from there.

 

Ready Character one - WIP   Dice Race: 1d6 3 Dice Character Number: 1d6 5 Name: Phayekaen "Faye Dungoneaway", aka "Whips" Race: Half Elf Description: Faye is a a half-elven Rogue just under five and a half feet tall. She's persistently upbeat, even when stealing from you in plain sight, or giving a lashing or choke-out with her whips. Her quips and comments are disarming to say the least, and any insult just rolls off her like water off a duck. It goes without saying that only those who are bad are the target of her whips and quips. It helps if they are rich of course. She was tagged with her last name by someone without any creativity trying to insult or describe how she was. It kind of stuck so she often introduces herself using it along with her shortened first name. Background Story: Faye grew up like many a rogue or bard, with but a first name and the world at her feet. No, really, the world was at her feet from her earliest memories as her mother was a singular named cartographer who often had her young daughter stand on maps so they wouldn't furl up when creating them. Saying that her father, or whoever he was, was unimportant, she quickly grew not to care. A natural salesperson, along with a gifted mapmaker, her mother passed down the gift of gab to her only offspring. Loving adventure and the thought of making her own coin and doing what she wants as it suits her, she tried her hand at fighting up close. The idea of dancing with swords doesn't appeal to her at all as she might get cut. She took up the whip when she noted she had a natural talent with it and it kept any foe at bay until she could flee should she have to fight. None of this comes without a quick comment or sharply worded jibe. It's what she considers her best feature. She takes advantage of how she doesn't look like much with just two whips and a bitty dagger on her hip, more often than not to the dismay of those who oppose her.   The whip in one hand wraps around a hitching post, while the other wraps around the legs of her fleeing opponent. Falling to the ground, the man says, "That's going to cost you." To which "Faye" replies, "Mmmm. No, It's a lost cause I'm afraid. I would aid in your plight, but no amount of coin can make those shoes go with those breeches. It's a clear case of 'Go home and try again.' I think we all agree on that." As she was saying this, she had darted in and relieved the man of his coin purse, smiling and bowing thanks before she used her dagger and whip to half climb, half swing atop the building next to her and then run away. Stat Block Character Number: 5 Gear and Signature Moves: GEAR - Judges ruling if this can be oneTwo whips used two weapon style, throwing/climbing dagger, and Thieves tools. Signature Move # 1 - Whip wrap (Entangle/Trip, Choke, Disarm weapon), Signature Move # 2 - Dagger Style: Throw dagger into surface to allow whip to grab onto it to climb up or perform acrobatic, or "parkour" moves off of walls/structures.

[JustSomeGuy]

 

 

Stat Block Name: Jeremy Winthorpe, the Ghost Writer. Race: Human Character Number: 2 Adventuring Gear: A Nearly Bottomless Coin Purse - The obscenely wealthy noble is used to buying his way out of, and into, problems and a bag of holding full of money definitely helps. The Spectacles of Spectral Sight - This pair of glasses are engraved with arcane runes that simply ooze with magic. Occam, The Spirit of Adventure - A Spectre haunts the young aristocrat and acts as Jeremy's Spell Focus. Signature Moves: A Clue! - Whether deducing a person's motives from the way they are standing or noticing an object that was meant to be hidden, Jeremy rarely misses a clue. His glasses only enhance those native talents. Spell Casting - The wraith's myriad abilities are at young master Winthorpe's disposal. Known Spells: Cantrips Possession is Nine-Tenths... - (Minor Possession) The Spirit of Adventure can possess a target but has minimal control. It can speak through and sometimes move the thrall, but it's obvious to onlookers that their movements and speech are unnatural. The effect won't last long if the possessed is actively resisting. The Sound of Distant Music... - (Minor Illusions) Somewhere far away, someone is playing a sad song on a violin. Did you just hear the laughter of children? It was a Dark and Stormy Night... - (Minor Weather Control) It can create spooky atmospheric effects like a light fog, chilling winds, frost forming on windows, and a sudden cloudy day. Proper Spells The Gloomy Shade of Death... - Damage - (Life Drain) The Target's life force begins to bleed away as they grow pale, fall unconscious, and eventually expire. It is not terribly useful against non-living targets, like locked doors. They're Here... - Utility - (Telekinesis) From flinging vases and snagging books from across the room to opening and shutting doors and windows, the poltergeist isn't afraid to let its presence be known. We do not Remember Days, We Remember Moments... - Utility - (Psionics) The Spirit can telepathically share thoughts and emotions. It can also search through and alter memories. Boldness, be my Friend... - Buff - (Luck) Fortune favors the Bold, though sometimes it requires a little push. A single target will gain a bonus number of d6's on their next roll equal to the number of successes on this one.

 

Character Write-up Appearance: Jeremy's hair is dark brown, clean, and neatly styled. He usually wears a tie that has a pop of color with his tailored suits to complement his milky complexion. While the gentleman often attempts to avoid looking frail, he walks with a limp. The young man uses a well-polished cane to assist in mobility and is rarely seen without it. An unreasonable chill follows him wherever he goes. Motivation: A successful author from an affluent family, Jeremy didn't join the Crossing Companions Adventuring Guild for pay. No, he feels the Call to Adventure. Young master Winthorpe doesn't wish to be legendary, but to do legendary things. A childhood spent secluded in the family's library and escaping into tales of high adventure has built a sharp mind that desires excitement. The imaginative writer seeks out new experiences with an open mind and a passionate curiosity. Accomplishments: Jeremy's keen eye and his spectral friend's abilities have more than made up for his complete lack of training in traditional weapons or armor. Traps and secret doors are as obvious to him as the clouds in the sky. The pair first joined a team of dungeoneers in recovering a lost artifact. Most recently, they've rescued a group of kidnapped children and put an end to a cult's efforts to materialize a cosmic horror through sacrifice. Backstory: Jeremy's birth wasn't what one would call normal. A doctor and two midwives had crowded into a drawing-room at Winthorpe Manor. The first midwife became ill as the contractions began and repaired herself to a chaise, leaving the others to their work. She was later found comatose, never to awaken. The doctor shriveled and collapsed at the child's first cries, looking for all the world like a piece of dried fruit smeared to the floor. Some would later blame the work of a malevolent spirit. The second midwife cradled the baby, cooing soothing sounds at the child while the rest of the estate roiled with the chaos of the moment. The walls shook in time with the infant's cries but she was undeterred. Somewhere, a painting fell off of a wall. Screams from the household staff were strangely muted, like the only sounds of interest were coming from a newborn so new to the world. That brave midwife was notified of having inherited a large sum of money from an estranged relative later in the day and young master Winthorpe's life continued as eventfully as it began. ✵✵✵✵ "Olivia, the Boy is Possessed!" His father was down the hall, yelling at his mother. Their relationship was ... strained. Small Jeremy heard the sounds of breaking plates from his position on the ceiling. Harold must have been drinking again and having one of his fits. Olivia Winthorpe's response was too quiet to make out, but the crack of the following slap was not. There was a sharp hissing noise beside him. He looked over to see Occam, his favorite imaginary friend, wearing an expression of anger and concern. They needed to hide. Outside, clouds gathered ominously. Thunderstorms seemed to follow his father's bouts with the bottle. Tonight would not be an exception. "Let us go to the library! We can have an Adventure among the books," Occam gestured in the direction of their favorite place. "Would you read me another story?" Together, they would escape this life. Together, they would find an Adventure worth having. Together, they would create a story worth telling and he would write it down. They would become Adventurers. ✵✵✵✵ Life improved after Harold Winthorpe died. That drunkard had fallen down the stairs and somehow managed to land on his knife twenty-five times. Afterward, the newly invigorated Olivia Winthorpe presided over a flourishing estate and encouraged Jeremy's creative pursuits. The imaginary friend of his childhood turned out to be a ghost that had haunted his family manor. She never discouraged the friendship, and the two would spend long hours playing at being heroes. Jeremy became a writer of some renown among the idle rich. The invented tales of his youth entertained and excited his peers. Still, he was unsatisfied. The proliferation of Adventurer's Guilds was a blessing and a signal. Taking a bag of holding filled with a startling amount of currency and a pair of enchanted glasses, the young author set out to join the Crossing Companions. ✵✵✵✵ Wearing a pale grey suit and leaning heavily on a dapper cane, Jeremy Winthorpe entered the crowded tavern with a certain halting grace. The air was musky with oiled leather and unkind effort. He ran neatly manicured fingers through his short-cropped hair and surveyed the noisy room. Hiding his infirmity as best he could, the dark-haired gentleman walked to a corner table. Nearby candles extinguished themselves and grew cold as he passed, wisps of smoke curling towards the ceiling in their familiar dance. "This looks like the right place. You should keep your guard up," his oldest friend mentally instructed as Winthorpe settled into the now darkened spot. Jeremy lit a cigar and observed the room with narrowed eyes, his glasses zooming in on faces and piercing through the darkness to seek a specific clue as to the whereabouts of their quarry. There were a lot of nervous people here. The patrons regularly glanced over shoulders, scanned windows, and watched doors. Aha! There it was in the back of the room. A door that not one person seemed to notice. There were no stolen peeks and no paranoid scrutiny. Focusing on the magic of his glasses, Jeremy gazed past the door. It was difficult, but he could make out the life force of several tiny forms clustered in groups and a large figure facing them. Jeremy telepathically signaled to the wraith while rising from his chair, "The door at the back, there is some kind of Enchantment obfuscating it. That's where they're keeping the sacrifices. Occam, we're going in!"

[MontageManiac]

APP COMPLETE!

 

Stat Block Race: Dice Race selection: 1d6 4 (4) = Dwarf CN: Dice Class Number: 1d6 2 (2) = Magic user. Adventuring Gear: Magical Tattoos across the whole body, appear somewhat like tribal imagery, but more chaotic, fewer patterns, but defined imagery. There is a corresponding tattoo for each of his Known Spells. Glowing crystal used for light in darkness, or to measure the ley-energy of the surrounding area. During negotiations, it can also be used to sense the emotional energy of creatures within a twenty foot radius. This appears as swirling colors to most people, but to Arbiters they can see it as a coded message. It takes skill to read, but for those who do, it is an invaluable tool in negotiations. Draykling - Magical flying lizard commonly found in deep mountain caverns where Wyvrens roost. Rhun's is named Zinlaa, and is a gift from his Arbiter Mentor. Signature Moves: The Flow of Arts - martial and mystical fusion of elements to create a method of hand to hand combat beyond just casting spells or physical bludgeoning. Each strike is meant to weaken or strengthen one's connection to Ley Energy which flows through all things upon the world. It can either fix balance, or disturb it, and thus the more hits one can land on a target, the more control an Arbiter has over their "Flow". Known Spells through Magical Tattoos. Cantrips: Ley Orientation: Can determine cardinal directions based on proximity to ley-lines. Harmonized Synapses: Can communicate with Draykling, Zinlaa, telepathically, and experience the Draykling’s senses as if they were his own. Known Spells: Ley Eruption: Damage - Ley-energy erupts to damage an enemy closest to the ley-line, or sub-ley-line Envigor: Healing - Ley-energy is used to heal any wounds suffered by the target of the spell. Path of the Divine: Utility - The ley energy is used to sympathize with a perceived person, object, or location, attempting to determine its location, or sense additional information based on success or failure. Ascension: Buff - Ley energy is siphoned and distributed to you and your allies, granting you +1d to a roll of your choice.

Character Write-up Arbiter Rhun Appearance: Arbiter Rhun is a dwarf of 4 ft 9 in, muscular but not as stocky as others of his ancestry. The most startling features are his wild emerald hair, and coal black eyes with golden iris. The eyes are typical of Arbiters, but there are so few in existence that it has become an evolutionary trait that exists to further the legends of the Arbiter Order throughout Dwarven society. Rhun is serious, professional, but not beyond a good joke or warm company. He appreciates the tastes of well-made food and wares, even if he does not luxuriate himself of these material matters often. He prizes honesty and constant discovery above most other matters, personality traits which have lead him to become exceedingly good at his destined occupation as an Arbiter of his people, a responsibility he has come to accept and appreciate at this stage in his life, only 120 years old. Backstory: Rhun is the first-born son of a well-respected and highly connected dwarven clan, the Brimstocks. Within the political hierarchy of his nation, the Brimstocks maneuvered themselves to become the next major power-holders of their Clan, and also the larger inter-clan governing structure. However, the best-laid plans can always go awry, and upon Rhun’s birth, the celebration of him becoming a male-heir to one of the most influential and important dwarven families, was quickly followed by the discovery of his jet-black eyes and golden irises. Rhun would not be the firstborn male-heir of their household, he would become an Arbiter, and the plans his parents had laid would become strained and cumbersome. The birth of a new Arbiter is a tumultuous time. They are so rare that their entry into the world must be shepherded by another Arbiter, and after a few years of childrearing, one indeed did come to the Brimstock’s ancestral home to retrieve the child. Arbiter Cannoc would become the father Rhun was not born with, but who would pass on everything they knew to this new member of the limited Order of Arbiters. So rare and powerful are this order of individuals, that they hold no ranking within the hierarchy of Dwarven Society, but are seen on equal footing with judges, high-ranking government officials, and religious sect leaders. Because of their separation from state and religion, they are seen as mediators with no vested interest in competing parties, only the betterment of their society as a whole. Within this unique position, Rhun was raised to become an Arbiter of high morale standing, honor and duty binding his use of abilities to uphold the virtues he saw as important, and mete out justice as he saw fit. The very nature of this elite group of individuals means that each Arbiter could have varying opinions and biases, and thus those who court an Arbiter without having justice as the premiere outcome will often become sorely disappointed. Rhun was told of his family’s plans, and the mixed reaction of his birth. He’d come to learn that he had a younger sister, Gwynvenyr Brimstock, who was effectively married off to maintain the Brimstock Clan standing, as it had fallen in stature over the decades. While Rhun knew he had no true role in this political maneuvering, he could not help but feel responsible for the sad state he’d heard his sister was in. An Arbiter is meant to be separate and above the political machinations of dwarven culture… but is he also meant to ignore an injustice that has involved his own family, especially when there is an innocent who is not to blame for the lot they find themselves in? Arbiter Rhun is uncertain of the answer, and his current whereabouts might be seen as someone running from their problems, if it wasn’t for the fact he was an Arbiter; Arbiters never allow personal matters to cloud their judgement. The Crossing Companions: It would never be said that Arbiter’s run from issues. They are meant to uphold the moral standing of a people, to be a check against the corruption that invades the powers of political and mercantile society. The scale that keeps the dwarven people upon the path set forth by their forebears, and seeks the most balanced path into the unknown darkness that is the future. But Arbiter Rhun’s birth was a calamity within the circles of political power brokers, and his Arbiter's sense allowed him to see his position as a discordant note to the balance of dwarves society. So for the time being, a member of the Crossing Companions had its benefits where walking alone as an Arbiter could be disastrous. Rhun has served as a member of the Crossing Companions for a little over a decade, and in that time has acquitted himself as a tempered and thoughtful advisor to more than one member of the fellowship. He was instrumental in the peace negotations between the Vinidaal Elven Empire and the Human Magocracy of Sithagul, where a small band of Crossing Companions managed to uncover a conspiracy to pit the two powers against one another in order to enact a ritual which would open a seal to the Realm of Cosmic Chaos. Arbiter Rhun’s own interests in establishing a more long-standing home for the Companions saw him negotiate for an independent city-state to be established, Homeland, where mercenary and adventuring companies can pay to establish a homebase, and it would be considered neutral territory from all political interests, and a sanctuary to all mercenary companies who called the city their home base. They may fight each other beyond the walls, but within, they were all united, and destruction befall any who seek otherwise. Despite such haughty accomplishments, Rhun has never sought leadership or power, and has maintained his Arbiter interests and offers only advice. Rhun would do anything for his fellow Companions, as they accepted him into their ranks when he needed shelter, and thus seeks to keep them on their path to glory.

[HotsuSama]

 

Stat Block Name: Chervil Race: Exotic (Ratfolk) CN: 5 Adventuring Gear: 1) Sharp claws 2) Joy, his companion cat 3) Sack full of old loot Signature Moves: 1) Mauling attacker 2) Charismatic negotiator and barterer

Background Chervil is enormous among ratfolk, with a hulking frame that could easily be mistaken for fat at first. He dresses exotically, using his personal wealth to secure tailoring for coats and accoutrements alien to the immediate locale of the Crossing Companions' main venturing grounds. His clothes are always clean and cut well for his slouching posture. His demeanour speaks to sophistication, but with clear fragility. He speaks haughtily, and feigns solemn grace when it suits him. It doesn't fool many. His penchant for brutality is always simmering under the surface. He may be ratfolk, but he irks at being referred to as a 'rat'. When irritated, or when things don't go his way for long enough, he often erupts in a savage and destructive temper. For all his noble airs, he's a shockingly violent and effective close quarters fighter, using his natural claws to supplement a vicious approach to combat. Chervil doesn't speak much of his homeland. His first home was apparently a grey and grim city, and he seems to have had many altercations there. Rumour has it he was a local crime lord, ruling over his gang with terror and intimidation and pursuing constant schemes for wealth and power. Things apparently didn't go his way in the end, because he's travelled far (with what loot he could carry in tow) to get away from any reputation that may follow him. After failing in his initial efforts to set himself up as a trade mogul (and perhaps smuggler), he pivoted into tax collection. But after a while, it bored him - he'd already carted over sizable wealth from his homeland, so there was little joy in palming the odd coin from hungry peasants. He took to travelling, mostly swanning about the largest cities he could find. Sometimes he ran into trouble, and whatever his old reputation might have been, in these lands he became better known as a deceptively effective brawler. His movement into working as an adventurer and mercenary was highly reluctant at first - he saw the work as beneath him. But he's since learned to embrace the freedom and wealth that comes with the dangerous work.

The rolls Dice Race: d6 6 Dice CN: d6 5