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Old Apr 15th, 2024, 11:46 AM
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Arkanis Arkanis is offline
Lord of Graves
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Heroes of the Bonds

Please post characters and a link to your completed sheets here:-

Starting Level: 3
Ability Score Generation: 27 Point Buy
Starting Gold: Starting Gold per class (page 143 of PHB)
Starting Equipment: As per class and background + 1 magic item of common rarity
Acceptable Sources: PHB, Mordenkainens, Tasha’s, Xanathar’s, SCAG

In addition, you have all adventured with each other for a while. Please discuss character links in the OOC channel and write me a short paragraph with your characters thoughts on the other PC's.

Last edited by Arkanis; Apr 22nd, 2024 at 05:48 AM.
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Old Apr 19th, 2024, 08:34 AM
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very preem, choom
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The Charming Bard
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Name: Florian Yearwood
Race: Changeling (secret)Human
Class: College of EloquenceBard
Alignment: Neutral Good
Personality Traits: I always have a plan for what to do when things go wrong.
The first thing I do in a new place is note the locations of everything.
Ideal: People. I’m loyal to my friends and the downtrodden, not to any ideals, and the rich nobles can take a trip down the Styx for all I care.
Bond: I will become the greatest thief that ever lived.
Flaw: An innocent noble is in prison for a crime that I committed. I'm okay with that.

Appearance: Florian is... complicated. He can look like anyone, quite literally, though he tends to favor a handsome Human male. This main persona is tall, well-presented, and has a charming smile to match an equally charming personality behind it. Through various means, Florian can change his clothing, typically favoring leather armors and durable materials; he also wears belts and harnesses, mainly to hold his assortment of traveling items, bags, pouches, musical instruments and weapons. A hooded traveling cloak isn't uncommon, either.

Personality: Florian is a ball of rubber in a world of rocks. His capacity for altering his personality is unnatural, flexible and able to stretch beyond might be expected; he can become someone unique, complete with idiosyncrasies, mannerisms, vocal affectations and tales to support them all on the spot. He can also become other people, adopting their appearances and performing capably with vocal ranges, though he is continually improving that skill, but hasn't mastered it - yet. Being what he is, a Bard, he has become highly capable with deception, performance and spinning yarns; he finds enjoyment in providing enjoyment, especially when he can make a pretty coin off his efforts.

When it comes to Florian's true personality, that's a little more complicated. From a young age, he has been subjected to hiding his true nature, forced to adapt in far more ways than others - he has had to hide himself, largely out of fear for what others might do to him simply for being. This has caused Florian to experience betrayal, loss, squalor and even forced him to consider life choices he might not have wanted; this resulted in his becoming a criminal, a vagabond, and from his earlier life he has developed something of a soft spot for the smallfolk - he knows what it's like to starve, to beg, to look up at the high-and-mighty castles and manors and want that. So, whenever he can, Florian tries to give back to those he finds in need. He understands there's no way of helping everyone, but perhaps - when he can - those coins from a stolen bracelet or whisked purse could provide a family with some food for the week.

So, no matter the plot or caper, Florian tries to something of a Robin Hoodspread some of the wealth. He knows what it's like in those gutters and hovels. Everyone deserves help, sometime. And as a silver-lining, Florian also gets to upset and steal from those who hoard their gold and flaunt their riches, often turning noses up at the smallfolk around them.

Ultimately, Florian is a personality chameleon, and is able to flourish in all levels of society - even if he despises the higher ones.

History: Florian's life truly began when he came of age, becoming a youthful and charming Bard able to wander the realm and sing or tell tales to his little human hearts content. He had permission, then, to go as he would and experience what he wanted, and Faerûn was his oyster; from Neverwinter to Luskan, from Mirabar to Waterdeep, from Daggerford to... well, anywhere and everywhere, really. Though, it is worth noting that Florian helped with some financial assistance to the poor folk of Daggerford, who had suffered an earthquake and corresponding pollution to the River Delimbiyr. Very said. Still, the young Human regaled and serenaded his way across more land in one year than some do in entire lifetimes. And throughout many years since, Florian relished the opportunity to make some coin, lose some coin, spend some coin and give out some coin.

Life was good.

When not in the public eye, Florian had darker but no less noble pursuits. He was a thief, by trade, and he was fully capable - and comfortable - of using his charm and wit and talents as a Bard to spy, trick or outwit any number of individuals as marks. Because of his earlier life, which pains the young man to speak about, Florian understands the plight of the commonfolk. He understands what it feels to have a roof over your head barely keeping the rain out. He knows the hunger of days without food. And because of that, because of his beginnings in squalor, Florian gives out portions of what he earns - or takes - from the rich and noble classes, who are undeserving of their wealth in manner and callousness.

It is through careful attention to detail, some skill with disguise and guile, and perhaps some luck that Florian is able to be effective in his efforts. He keeps his two lives very separate, the performing talker and the clandestine deceiver, and goes to great lengths to do so. That said, the traveling performing thief career isn't always gold and roses, and it is not uncommon for Florian to accept contract work as something of an adventurer; or, at least, as a supportive entity unto which strong, brave and weapon-wielding adventurers can go forth and do even better with violence.

For the most part, all aspects of Florian's life were balanced; they existed in a harmonious, interconnected series of events. And it was good. Very good. So it was an odd thing, really, when - on one particular contact job in Tilverton - Florian was flustered with nightmares and woke to find a horrific tattoo on his arm. The symbols were ghastly things, really, unknown to the Bard in source or meaning, and all he could do was question his fellow adventurers as to what it could all mean. And not only that, but someone had packed Florian's belongings and moved his bags about near him...

Nobody, not even the lord of Shadowdale, touched Florian's things.

There would be hell to pay - and a tattoo to remove - by the time the young Bard was done!

Actions & Stat Block
The Bonds of FriendshipCefrey: When Florian met Cefrey, he was immediately intrigued by the cleric. She appeared like a visage from a tale he might tell, of a holy warrior enrobed in armor, yet there was a humbleness to her. As an individual who spins recollections for a living, Florian was also interested in hearing Cefrey's accounts of Rhyester, whom she seemed well-versed in knowledge of. And, while not a religious man, Florian is happy to philosophize with the cleric. Over time, Florian has grown to appreciate Cefrey's healing presence, and especially enjoys talking to her, as her low cadence can be a soothing timbre that lingers upon listening.

Fiadh: When it comes to the tall, physically imposing warrior, Florian can be certain of two things: he is glad Fiadh is his friend, and he is more than happy to let her handle the fighting. Despite being well-traveled, Florian hasn't quite met someone like Fiadh, and as a result - since meeting - he has always regarded her with a mixture of quiet fascination and awe. He also enjoys how interested she seems in his stories, especially far reaching tales, so whenever he can, Florian tries to dip into obscure sources of knowledge to give Fiadh a glimpse of distant fables.

Moorkammen: When it comes to Moorkammen, Florian sees an individual that can't relax or enjoy himself. So, being the good friend that he is, Florian is constantly trying to free Moorkammen's sense of humor with little pranks or amusing jokes or silly songs; and he does that to try and lighten Moorkammen's dour mood, knowing that one day - one day - he will succeed and the stoic Paladin will burst into laughter. But, until then, Florian will do whatever he can to find a chink in that grizzly armor!

Thia: Being fellow criminals, it turned out that Thia and Florian had met in the past. When it came time to work together, there was some familiarity - at least from a reputation standpoint. From there, a friendship developed, largely owed to sharing a mutual less-than-legal profession. Over time, the two started to bond over crazy heist and thieving job ideas, which began to get grander and impossibly difficult as time went on. Yet, there is no real intent to carry through on any of the heists, rather Florian enjoys spending time and indulging in his less known profession alongside a fellow thief - because he can hardly talk to the others about being a criminal. As such, Thia is one of the few who know about Florian's 'other job'.

Vale: When Florian met Vale, he immediately found her blunt - and often stinging - honesty as a breath of fresh air. He enjoyed hearing what she thought, even if it wasn't particularly nice, and also found a very forthcoming critic regarding his music. Nowadays, Florian will spend time writing songs and presenting them to Vale, interested in what she has to say, and adjusting them if her honesty strikes true enough to his ears. They also have an amusing past time that involves creating little ditties of silly songs around the campfire, with some of them being utterly hilarious to Florian.
Star Wars | X-Men | Ronin

Last edited by Rockerboy; Apr 24th, 2024 at 03:03 AM.
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Old Apr 19th, 2024, 10:03 AM
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RossN RossN is offline
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Name: Thia
Race: High Elf
Class: Rogue (Arcane Trickster)
Background: Criminal
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Age: 113
Gender: Female

Personality Traits: The first thing I do in a new place is note the locations of everything valuable—or where such things could be hidden / The best way to get me to do something is to tell me I can’t do it.
Ideal: People. I’m loyal to my friends, not to any ideals, and everyone else can take a trip down the Styx for all I care. (Neutral)
Bond: I’m trying to pay off an old debt I owe to a generous benefactor.
Flaw: I turn tail and run when things look bad.
Appearance: An attractive, slender Elf with a darker than average complexion, the legacy of many years in Calimport. By Elven standards she rather tall (about 5'3") and favours blue clothing in Calimshan fashions.

Story: A true rogues rogue Thia has eagerly stolen from and swindled many, though her own conscience means she only targets the underserving - a corrupt merchant might find their coffers emptied while an honest merchant will merely find her a wily haggler. She loathes tyrants and delights in tweaking their noses, though she is not above turning on the charm to try and talk her way out of trouble.

Originally from the Sword Coast region she ended up in Calimport about twenty five years ago and after several adventures fell in with a crowd of magic using thieves led by a High Elf wizard named Lianthras. Thia was his apprentice of sorts and also deeply in love with her mentor and for a time life was good until a plan went awry robbing a noble's treasure vault and most of the crew was captured or killed. Though not brave Thia volunteered to hold off the guards while Lianthras got away and ended up taken prisoner and sold as a slave. Fortunately she used her wiles to escape but found Lianthras had departed for somewhere in the Moonsea region with the gang's gold. With Calimport too hot for a known thief she has moved on too, hoping to catch word of her beloved.

Secret my character is aware of:
Secret my character is not aware of:

RP Sample (a scene from the character’s perspective): Gaining entry to the merchant prince's mansion had been the easy part. Thia had slipped in after dark, lightly stepping through the rooms and using her magic to provide the occasional distraction. There had been a hairy moment when her route had taken her through the servant's quarters and a scullery maid had woken up but Thia had managed to hide in time and kept her nerve as the half asleep servant looked around. Ten minutes and seriously cramped elbows and knees later Thia unfolded herself from her hiding spot behind the perfectly hideous and ravishingly expensive statue of one of the merchant prince's ancestors and crept on, though not before pouring a pinch of sand and murmuuring a few arcane words over the sleeping maid just to make sure she was really asleep.

Moving on she reached the master bedroom. Once again she called upon her magery, very carefully using invisible fingers to lift the sapphire necklace off the neck of the merchant's mistress as she slept beside the equally asleep if less elegant bulk of the merchant. The glittering prize floated like a ghost across the room and dropped neatly into Thia's actual physical palm. The beautiful thief allowed herself a smile at a job well done.

The smile froze as she took a look at the necklace. Ah. She looked back towards bed. "I should have known you wouldn't give her real sapphires," Thia whispered to herself, giving the mistress a sympathetic look. "Oh honey, you can do better. Me for instance."

With a wave of her hand Thia magically returned the faux sapphires to the woman and softly turned to check out the rest of the house. Time to find out where the corrupt old skintflint had hidden the real treasure..

The Bonds of Friendship
Cefrey: "When I first met her I was convinced that her sunny act - if you'll forgive the pun - was exactly that, an act. The more I know her though the more I realize that she's the real deal. I'll be the first to admit her goody two shoes nature can leave me rolling my eyes especially if there is a purse that needs a transfer of ownership to me. Still she's wonderful in a fight and can patch you up like no one's business. Not that I am inclined to follow the Morninglord mind you; Tymora suits my life far more!"

Florian: "Ah now here is a soul akin to my own! I think so at least... there is something mysterious about him but I'm hardly one to point fingers on that score given my own secrets. Besides it gives him a rather romantic, dashing appeal. A witty charmer with a reassuringly larcenous streak."

Fiadh: "We come from very different worlds but I can't dispute her passion or strength and it is very useful to have a friend who can arm wrestle an ogre. When you catch her in her good moods she is great company - but seeing her in battle terrifies me, gods know what it does to the enemy! As a spellcaster her magic intrigues me."

Moorkammen: *Sigh* "If I have to sit through one more lecture he'll wake up with fleas in his armour! I suppose I have to grant he means well (in his own way) but would it kill him to have a little fun once in a while? I suppose he is a skilled warrior and very handsome... uh... not that I've thought about him that way!"

Vale: "Infinitely more interesting than you'd expect a monk to be! Pretty, smart, witty and incredibly capable. Had she pointed ears she might as well be my twin. We come my our powers by different means - her through mystically honing body and mind and me through studying illusions and enchantments - but there is more to us both than meets the eye."

Last edited by RossN; Apr 21st, 2024 at 06:50 PM.
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Old Apr 19th, 2024, 11:33 AM
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Drifter One Drifter One is offline
Beyond the Veil
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Name: Moorkammen of the Dessarin Valley
Race: Human (Variant)
Age: 28
Class: Paladin
Alignment: Neutral \Good
Personality Traits: Moorkammen is stoic and brave, giving the persona that he lacks emotion to an outsider, yet he is devoted, perhaps obsessed, with the teaching of the Earth Mother and will never leave an injured person or creature unattended. He will often commit to finding a cure for any malaise.

Devout - Moorkammen is always looking to gain Chaunteas favour, yet there is something niggling at him that he is unsure of.

Ideal: goodness can be found in all
Bond: It is Moorkammens life mission to fund and build a cathedral in Chaunteas name, with full facilities to care for the ill and injured
Flaw: So devoted to his deity and their teachings, Moorkammen becomes frustrated and even angry if others do not accept the ways of Chauntea

Appearance: Suited in silver plate which shines almost too perfectly and a tabard which seemingly never stains, Moorkammen looks like he has never seen battle, yet it is his discipline and personal care of his equipment which makes it look so. Long flowing brown hair is always brushed and washed when possible, for he feels he must look his absolute best when working in the name of Chauntea. Handsome and chiselled, he looks as though he should be in a church rather than the wilderness

Personality:Stoic and devout, almost at the point of being dictatorial in Chaunteas teachings, Moorkammen can often be mistook for a grim faced, grumpy and introvert, yet he is quite the opposite. He has internal struggles to stay on the right path which causes him to commit to his goddess 150% through fear of failing and succumbing to whatever his doubt is.He is brave and courageous, yet his highest priority to to ensure everyone gets a fair shot at being fit and healthy and will always try and help the wounded.

History:Hailing from the Dessarin Valley, just south of Yartar, Moorkammen was born and raised in a farming community from a small village called Littlemoor. His father was a devout clergyman and worshipped Chauntea, the Earth Mother, helping the villagers with their ailments and praying for good harvest. His mother, a farmer, working the fields until a relationship was struck up between the two. After Moorkammen was born, his father had already risen in status to be the village Elder and became more and more prominent at the Church of Chauntea. Rigid in his ways, he would scholar Moorkammen in his teachings of the church - Church was Life for the village and Chaunteans. Moorkammen settled into this way of thinking from an early age and with relative ease, yet, as he grew, he found a yearning for more than books and rituals and reciting excerpts and so began to help his mother tilling and sowing the fields of Littlemoor.

Time in the fields had strengthened Moorkammen in both bone and muscle and his father recognised this. In his strict and overpowering manner, his father "convinced" the young man he would best serve Chauntea by crusading and teaching in her name as a Paladin of the Church of Chauntea. It was a rigorous training program, yet one which he completed, before he was unleashed to Faerun to spread, healing, life and mercy, all in Chaunteas good name. Only then, after completing set of tasks, would he ascend to Paladinhood.

It took Moorkammen 7 years to complete his tasks all over the continent, in that time he had become more and more devoted to his cause, some would say almost fanatical. His quest took its toll on the young man yet he completed each task, such as finding the horn of Orsraun, The head of the mighty Griffin, Axcuul, setting up medical facilities across the north and battling the great sandworms of Anauroch. Yet, his proudest moment was when he "felt" Chaunteas blessing.

He headed back to Yartar when his ascension would take place, more grim faced and stoic than when he had left, his handsome features weathered by wind, rain, snow and desert. The ceremony was conducted in front of thousands of people, for an ascension was quite a spectacle, and yet, during the ritual, although proud to serve and gain his paladinhood, something niggled him at the back of his mind. He just could not tell what it was...

Story:The Church of The Earth Mother was a fine sight to behold, and Moorkammen had seen much in his 28 years under the Sun and Moon. It had vast pillars holding up its stone vaulted roof, banners of the Goddess hanging from anywhere there was space. It had a chancel which was decorated with huge but intricately carved wooden benches for the clergy and choir to sit near the altar, which itself was adorned with expensive cloths and candles. People lined the pathways outside as the procession and the inside of the church could not be more full.

"Impressive, is it not"

"It is, Father, yet we must stay humble. It is the way".Moorkammen answered, his eyes perhaps betraying his wonderment although his words were true. It was impossible for any man or woman to not be impressed at such a sight.

"True words spoken like a true believer. Well said, my son. As we approach, tell me one more time the itinerary". His father retorted.

Moorkammen sighted. "We've been through this a hun..."

"Humour me." His father interrupted with a raised finger and a scowl on his face.

Moorkammen explained to his father, again, the steps and motions and recitals he would go through to accept his ascension. doing so as they walked. Their conversation was interrupted by the shrill blast of trumpets as the reach the steps to the great church. Moorkammen took a deep breath and slowly climbed the stairs to the sanctuary. He stopped at the doorway, as was the instructions, and a white cloak was clipped his shoulders by a clergyman. A plain white cloak with no adornments.

"Forward" said the Clergyman, gesturing with an open palm towards the dais upon which the altar sat. Moorkammen nodded and the trumpets died down as he approached. At the steps, he knelt before the Vicar who placed a hand on his head. The church fell into silence. Moorkammen felt his cheeks burn as his nerves began to become more prominent, but silently scolding himself, he swallowed them back down.

"Ladies, Gentlemen and All who come here today," Vicar Harkness began, "We are honoured that you have all come here today to witness this rare and joyous occasion as we welcome young Moorkammen to the table of Chauntea."

"Todays' world is not so different to when i was a child, it is full of hurt, hunger, violence and...evil. Alas, there is hope and always will be hope. For there is also, Love," he paused for a moment, "Healing, togetherness and goodness in all. So lest not today be one of disdain or despair, but one of hope, celebration and joy as one of our own rises to fight the good cause in the name of our beloved Chauntea!"

Moorkammen felt his thigh begin to cramp, that tightening grip that would not relent until it squeezed the very life out of the muscle, yet, he feared to readjust mid speech.

Get on with it!

The speech went on, longer than expected as Vicar Harkness relished in the attnetion.

"Now! Child of Chauntea, accept this challenge from our most revered Earth Mother, Rise, Ser Moorkammen, and spread the love, health and healing of Chauntea. Rise in his name!"

Moorkammen rose from his position, struggling under his cramping leg, and as he did so, a distant rumble in the sky could be heard.

"Do you accept?" Harkness said.

"I do." Answered Moorkammen and the church errupted into cheers of jubilation. Yet, Moorkammen felt no joy, only sorrow


GM of Cyberpunk - The Edge of Glory Player - Cyberpunk Red - Soldiers of Tomorrow | Forbidden Lands | Curse of the Azure Bonds
I have taken the Oath of Sangus

Last edited by Drifter One; Apr 22nd, 2024 at 11:34 AM.
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Old Apr 19th, 2024, 01:09 PM
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Vale Weisser
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Vale Weisser
Name: Vale Weisser
Race: Human
Class: Monk (Way of Shadow)
Background: Faction Agent (Harpers)
Alignment: Neutral Good

  • Trait #1: There's nothing I like more than a good mystery.
  • Trait #2: The best way to get me to do something is to tell me I can’t do it.
  • Ideal: Knowledge. My whole upbringing was built around the idea that the right knowledge could open any door, be they physical or figurative.
  • Bond: My (adoptive) parents. I will do all I can to find out what happened to my father and avenge my mother.
  • Flaw: I am overconfident in my own abilities.

With her small frame and slim figure, Vale has always been good at avoiding stares from strangers. But if you ask someone who knows her, they would probably tell you her most defining feature to be her long dark hair, very carefully braided on one side, outside of her attitude that is.
She wears simple clothes that allow her to move as freely as she wants. Being restricted is not something she is fond of, be it from her outfit or because of the rules of others.

If asked to describe herself using a single word, Vale would definitely say 'driven.' The young woman is certainly enthusiastic when she has a thought in mind. To the point where basic tasks without a clear goal are physically painful to her, or so she claims. Training for the sake of training is a chore. Training with the objective of beating her mentor of a father would certainly be the right motivation she needs. And it is usually a sight to behold for any passing spectator, from a distance of course. The kind of energy coursing through her small frame in such a situation usually causes a show of display one could describe as uncontrolled telekinesis, seeing the cloud of small items flying around. Oh, the young woman certainly doesn't possess any magical abilities, it is only a display of her extreme focus. In this instance, she is perfecting her combat moves, and if many small objects, from her vicinity or her own pockets, are caught in it, she probably wouldn't notice. As legend has it, the infirmary in the training grounds has been built because of too many incidents involving Vale’s unfortunate sparring partners.
Thankfully, outside of her less-than-safe fighting demonstrations, the woman makes for very enjoyable company. That is, as long as one enjoys being teased.


RP Sample:


The Bonds of FriendshipFiadh: Outside of Vale (in her own opinion), Fiadh is the strongest fighter of the group, so of course Vale has made it her goal to beat the ffolk woman in a sparring session, although so far victory still eludes her. Overall, Vale looks up to Fiadh.

Florian: Battle of wits had never been more fun for Vale than those she held with Florian. Plus he is just fun to be around, and Vale especially enjoys talking with him about the small pieces he writes.

Cefrey: Usually, Vale is quite warry of the overly optimistic kind like Cefrey. They tend to make teases and pranks boring very quickly. But there's something different about Cefrey. Rather than tease her (like she would do for anyone else), Vale simply enjoys Cefrey's company and trying to make her smile.

Thia: Partners in crime. Vale finds great joy in kicking evil's ass with Thia. But more than that, it's about having fun and looking cool together while doing so.

Moorkammen: At times, Vale enjoys Moorkammen's company, especially when he doesn't talk. At other times, it's more difficult, and Vale tends to flee whenever he starts implying her behaviour is not very ladylike. The worst is when he gets to talk about the Great Chauntea. If only Vale could silence him, but the With the Silence spellmagical way she knows how to do so would leave her unable to speak too, and that is no fun either.


Last edited by Mirasiah; Apr 20th, 2024 at 03:10 PM.
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Old Apr 19th, 2024, 06:33 PM
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Elanir Elanir is offline
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Fiadh of the Moonshae Isles
Name: Fiadh
Race: Human (Variant) [Ffolk]
Class: Barbarian (Path of Wild Magic)
Alignment: Neutral
Personality Traits:
1. I am constantly on the lookout for signs of misfortune affecting those around me. If I spot any, it’s usually time to move on.
2. Some warriors mark their victories on the hilt of their blades. I collect trophies.
Ideal: Determination - I was not made to simply fight. Or even to win. I was made to be the last one standing on the battlefield - on each and every battlefield.
Bond: Unborn Baby - I do not know how a weapon can give birth to flesh and blood, but it will. It’s a miracle, my miracle.
Flaw: Unforgiving - If you harm me or my kin, justice will be sure and swift. Whether you regret your deeds or not, my blade will cut you down all the same.

Appearance: Fiadh is as much a part of the land of the Ffolk as any person can be. Her wild hair, said to never have been cut, is as red as the leaves of the rowan tree and the fire that burns in the hearts of her kin. She tries to keep it tamed by a series of braids and ornaments in the typical fashion of her people. Her eyes have the striking green color of the endless pastures of the Moonshae isles and her youthful skin is as soft as the fertile earth of the Ffolk’s fields. She is as tall as the hills and as hardy as the granite cliffs that eternally resist the angry waves and the mossy rocks that jut out of the ground. Mystical whorls and druidic markings decorate her face and body, resembling the ley lines that cross this ancient land.

Personality: Fiadh is as straight and sharp as a blade. Passionate and cheerful in peace, she allows a primal fury to consume her in war, turning her into a terrible foe. She was made to fight and now that the Ffolk no longer have any use for her - though she is convinced that they will again in the future - Fiadh lends her sword to any cause she deems worthy. She is emotional and easily moved by misfortune and the plight of the weak. At the same time, if crossed or deceived, she is swift to punish and slow to forgive. She never forgets a slight and doesn’t believe in second chances. Good or evil, it is the heart that births the deed and the heart doesn’t change.

History: Fiadh is rumored not to be born to a mortal woman, but to have been formed through druidic magic and the will of the Earthmother. The druids of the Moonshae isles still point at the hole in the ground where the warrior woman emerged from, fully grown. For over a decade, she fought the Ffolk’s enemies, whether it was battle against vile Kazgaroth, war parties of Northlander chieftains and raiders, nefarious wizards or the servants of dark gods.

With peace established and the High King, Tristan Kendrick, secure on his throne in Caer Callidyrr, the druids realized that once bloodied, this sword could not be sheathed. The wild magic that gave Fiadh her supernatural powers, if left unchanneled and without purpose, tended to bleed into her surroundings, causing harm and misfortune. The one-time champion of the people came to be seen with suspicion and blamed every time ill befell the lands of the Ffolk.

Realizing that she was now a bane to her own kin, Fiadh willingly left the Moonshae isles, seeking other places to shed the blood of beasts and evil men. Though she greatly misses the land that birthed her, she knows that her people will have need of her again. Once they do, she is determined to once more heed their call. What use is a sword if it won’t defend the one who forged it?






He/Him - I have taken the Oath of Sangus
Running Dragons of a Broken World: A Dragonlance (Age of Mortals) 5e DnD campaign

Last edited by Elanir; Apr 22nd, 2024 at 01:19 PM.
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Old Apr 21st, 2024, 08:58 PM
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Name: Cefrey Brightwood
Race: Human Variant
Class: Cleric (Light)
Alignment: Neutral Good
Personality Traits: I am tolerant of other faiths and respect the worship of other gods. I idolize Rhyester of Silverymoon, the first prophet of Lathander, and constantly refer to his deeds and example.
Ideal/Bond/Flaw: My ideal is aspiration. I seek to prove myself worthy of my god's favor by matching my actions against his or her teachings. I will do anything to protect the temple where I served. My piety sometimes leads me to blindly trust those that profess faith in my god.

Appearance: Cefrey is a fairly tall woman, about 5' 9", with long raven-black hair, bright blue eyes, and fair skin. When not wearing her ceremonial vestments, she wears practical garments in muted colors, highlighted with red or yellow, and bearing Lathander's holy symbol. While on the road, she wears inexpensive scale mail, a shield with the symbol of Lathander painted upon it, a light crossbow with a quiver of bolts, and an unadorned mace.

She's quick with a smile and generally takes in her environment with curiosity and pleasure, though her youth can make her come off as a bit naive-looking. She speaks in a confident contralto, which some find surprising. She is thin for her height but doesn't come across as particularly frail.

Personality: Celfrey holds her faith to Lathander very highly, and is enthusiastic about spreading the church's beliefs and bringing light to a dark world. She is a resolute optimist, finding little use in self-defeating pessimism, and usually finds the silver lining in every cloud. Some find her a tad annoying or pushy with how cheerful she generally is, but generally pleasant to be around. She is young, and knows it, and tries to be patient enough to learn what she needs to know, though sometimes she struggles with wanting to rush forward and just solve things.

She strives to remain imaginative and productive, always wanting to grow and improve in mind, body, and spirit. She always tries to act with consideration and forethought. Brave in spirit, she is not foolhardy. She knows that some will never come to the light and will always cause harm and destruction. While she does not enjoy violence, she understands that people are sometimes left with no alternative, and seeks to end the conflict as quickly as possible. She knows Lathander does not expect her to embrace someone who will stab her in the back.

History: Cefrey was born and raised in Waterdeep. Her father is a member of the Master Mariners' Guild, earning a comfortable living, though nowhere near wealthy - especially for Waterdeep. Her mother was once a tavern wench working at Mariner's Hall, but retired to raise Cefrey. Although she is the oldest of her siblings, her younger brother was actually slated to take over the family business, so Cefrey became an Awakened at the Spires of the Morning. This suited her fine, as she had little to no interest in making a living from the sea, and her brother was a natural sailor.

She has completed her studies and is now a Dawngreeter, just beginning her journey as a cleric of the Lightbringer. She has been sent out to bring light to the world, a task that excites her. She longs to travel and see new lands, meet new people. Not terribly concerned with large numbers of conversions, she instead hopes to make the world a better place a little spark of light at a time.

RP Sample (a scene from the character’s perspective): Cefrey reviewed the day's events in her mind as she relaxed her breathing, waiting for sleep to come. It had been a good day. The weather had been good for traveling, the talk cheerful and upbeat amongst her companions. The battle had gone well, the group working efficiently together to defeat a group of goblin bandits. There had been a lot of them, though, and Cefrey had expended nearly all her prepared spells. That's fine, she thought as she shifted under her blanket slightly. I'll pray for more at dawn. Little did she know that dawn would not save her or her friends.

The shadow attack, whatever it was, came swiftly and without warning. Some sort of drow magic, perhaps? It had kept the drow hidden even to their faithful watch until it was too late to prepare. They had reacted swiftly, of course, but not swiftly enough. Swords clashed and chants filled the air, those that weren't cut off quickly. Cefrey hastened to stand as several drow rushed her. As they closed in, Cefrey brandished the symbol of Lathander emblazoned on her shield and called out a word of power. A burst of holy radiance erupted from her, pushing the darkness around her back thirty feet and bathing the drow in light and searing their flesh and eyes. One drow crumpled to the ground with an agonized scream, but the other - though obviously in pain - kept the presence of mind to swing a wickedly curved blade at her. Cefrey brought her shield up to block, then felt a sharp pain in her shoulder from behind.

Cefrey staggered trying to keep her guard up, but the drow with the scimitar had backed away, pulling his companion back with him. They seemed to be waiting for something. Confused for a moment, Cefrey considered another spell, but was knocked off-balance by a wave of dizziness. Poison? she thought through a haze as she reached back over her shoulder, pulling out a feathered dart. She had time to notice a third drow reloading a hand-held crossbow, but a second dart was not necessary. As darkness came crashing in, Cefrey's last conscious thought was, Lathander protect us!

I would like you also to think about two secrets for your character. The first is a secret the character is aware of, and the second is a secret that they are not aware of. Please put both of these in secret text to me.

Lastly I would like to know a little bit about the player behind the application. Could you answer the below questions for me as part of your application. There are no right or wrong answers to these questions, it just allows me to tailor the game to meet individual expectations:-

1) What is it you would like to get out of the game? What kind of things appeal to you in a PbP game? I'd like to have fun and help tell a great story! More specifically, I'd like my character to be more than a magical first aid kit and actually have some development and be useful. I'm pretty open minded as far as what appeals to me. Good character interaction, good descriptions, good pacing, and not always feeling lost as to what we're doing or what we should do next.

2) What sort of things do you not want to see in a PbP game? Aside from the usual (metagaming, railroading, rage quitting, ghosting, etc.) I'd like to have some agency in what happens without being clueless. Our actions and decisions should matter, rather than just be conversation until we move on to the next scene. We should impact the story and not feel like what we do doesn't matter.

3) What is it that made you want to apply to this game? It's a good, classic D&D setting.

4) Do you prefer PbP games that are predominantly focused on combat, or predominantly focused on role-play? Or a mixture of the two? I prefer a mixture, maybe leaning slightly toward roleplay.
Oh, after all the folderol and hauling over coals stops, what did I learn?
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