[D&D-5e] The Banshee Bride

[BlackDragon0]

Originally Posted by lostcheerio

Highest recommendation for this game and this DM!

I'm currently playing in Fillyjonk's wild and weird Saltmarsh game, and was lucky enough to be a player in the epic all-bards one-shot. She's a gifted storyteller, a generous game master, and super-engaged with all the zigs and zags that players throw at her. Also -- I know that follow-through is an issue for some games, but I've never known Fillyjonk to take a break from posting, in over two years. So apply with confidence, because this game will go.

Currently in a game with filly as you know. As players I am truly enjoying it. Hence shy I applied here weather or not accepted ik it'll be a good game. Which is what I look for.

Those who have good games and are good dms will see me apply alot. To there stuff cause I want good. Games. Ik it can be annoying to gave the same people around alot but it just shows who they enjoy playing with and for.

[BlackDragon0]

Also added request for boots of elven kind to my app.

[Elanir]

Urias the Decrepit Name: Urias, last name unknown, forgotten even by himself Gender: Male Race: Dwarf, hill Class: Warlock (Undying, Pact of the Chain) Alignment: (True) Neutral The Question: How can I gain true death once my heart stops beating in my chest? The "shiny" Gift: The “Crown of Leaves”, a ring of matte gold, topped by an emerald. The Crown of Leaves was one of the first and most valuable items Urias received in exchange for caring for those afflicted by the “flayer’s curse” once he realized that Her power protected him from the disease. The ring originally belonged to one of the most prominent noble families in the city where Urias grew up, and was part of the dowry of a highborn girl marrying an aristocrat thirty years her senior to cement a political alliance. The young woman was one of the first victims of the plague and mere weeks after her demise her husband soon contracted the disease as well. In his desperation he was more than willing to exchange his late wife’s legacy, a woman he had been married to for less than a year, with a cure for the deadly plague. Though the potions and ointments Urias concocted had little effect, the young alchemist still insisted upon getting paid, threatening to abandon the suffering man in his misery, if he did not agree to fair compensation for his efforts. The nobleman acquiesced, though that did not spare him in the end. Urias never sold or gave away the ring, considering it proof of the “good” he did during the dark times of plague that marked his rise in society. Background: Guild Artisan (alchemists and apothecaries)   Urias’ youth was marked by a plague that devastated the great city of his birth, as it marked the lives of everyone who had to face it. Serving as apprentice to his father, a respected, if not particularly influential, member of the Guild of Alchemists and Apothecaries, the young dwarf accompanied his father in fighting the “flayer’s curse”, as the disease came to be known, as soon as it became obvious that the gods were deaf to the cries of their faithful and the mages were unable to find a magical solution to the problem. Despite the measures father and son took to protect themselves from exposure to the disease, one day both of them realized that their bodies were covered in boils, the earliest stage of the plague. The boils would soon burst, giving rise to ulcers, which in turn would bleed profusely. After a few days no inch of skin would remain intact, leading to a horribly painful death. Urias panicked and begged the Guildmaster with tears in his eyes to reveal to him the closely-guarded great secrets of their Art. He refused and sent away the boy, banning him from the Guildhall, fearing that the plague would spread to the other members as well. It was his father who tried to persuade young Urias that all they could do now was use their skills to relieve the pain of others. It was their duty. If a single life could be saved through their efforts, their deaths would have had meaning. Honor, however, never was high in Urias’ priorities, much preferring survival to a noble, but short life. His chance came when he and his father visited the old woman of the rose garden, an eccentric elderly woman, who lived inside a tower surrounded by a garden full of white roses. Some said she was a witch. Others claimed that she was something much worse than a witch. The truth was that she was as ill as any other in that cursed city. As Urias’ father prepared an ointment to lessen the pain of the lesions and ulcers that dotted the woman’s skin, she grabbed the young dwarf’s arm and would not let go until he answered the question she whispered in his ear. "What will you do to be safe of the plague and exist eternally?" After hesitating somewhat, unsure whether the woman was speaking earnestly or not, the young man replied. "Anything!" The woman let go and instructed him to keep the first living being that he would encounter inside her garden. Now realizing that she was delirious, Urias paid her no more attention. The woman would die within days anyway and indeed his prophecy soon came true. It was only when his father was no longer able to rise from his bloody sheets and his own health deteriorated that he remembered the old woman’s words. What do I have to lose?, he reasoned and secretly headed to the woman’s rose garden only to find out that all the bushes had withered and died. At the very center of the dead garden he discovered a toad. The creature was poisonous, but the very toxins its slimy skin secreted could be used to heal Urias’ affliction, he discovered accidentally, though only he seemed to benefit from this unusual cure. Urias’ father succumbed to the illness before long, as did his mother, his three sisters and in the end over three quarters of the city’s total population. But he remained safe and now others were aware of this fact as well. He acquired the reputation of a miracle-worker, one who was immune to the “flayer’s curse” and was highly sought after to cure those suffering from the plague. Even the Guildmaster appeared before him one day, presenting his bleeding arms and legs and begging the young dwarf to help him. Urias refused and sent him away to die in the Guildhall along with the rest of his afflicted brothers and sisters, and take the secrets of the Art to his grave. He had no need for them now. When others came asking for his help, he proved more merciful and agreed to care for them, though not for free. His services would have to be rewarded. Some had nothing of value to offer and those he refused to treat. The rest benefited more from his presence and the faith they had in him than from his potions and elixirs. Some improved, a few even recovered fully and the young dwarf’s fame grew. As did his wealth after all, what use were gold and gems, if one was doomed to die? The plague eventually ran its course, like all things are destined to pass one day, and the city woke from the nightmare. It had survived and was determined to grow and thrive once again. It never got the chance. Another city, fearing that its old rival would become strong again, mustered its armies and marched against its weakened enemy, razing it to the ground. Urias, however, managed to escape in time, warned by Her words whispered in his ear. This was the first time he had heard Her voice after her “death”, but certainly not the last. With the great riches he had amassed, he was welcomed anywhere he went. He finally decided to settle in the city that had destroyed his birthplace. It seemed to offer the best prospects for a bright future. Many centuries passed and Urias came to know many generations of children, grandchildren and great grandchildren, so many in fact that he stopped trying to remember their names or their faces. The first few of his wives were memorable enough, but after a point they too just became names and faces without meaning. Until one day he couldn’t remember the name of his mother. Or father. Or that of any of his sisters. His youthful body started changing as well. His limbs grew twisted, his back crooked, his eyes dull and his skin grew more wrinkles than a dragon has scales. Neither his trusted toad, nor his remaining wealth were able to secure him a remedy. No matter how furious he grew or how demurely he begged, no living soul could help him. He had given Her his word. He would do anything to exist eternally. And She had kept Her end of the bargain, just not in the way he had hoped. Now over a thousand years old, though there is no way that Urias could know for sure, the dwarf who was once known as the “deathless” is looking for a way to attain true death without turning into an abomination that defies every natural law there is. Since the living have disappointed him, he has now put his trust in the dead. The Banshee Bride must know the answer to his question and Urias will do anything to learn it too! Personality: Urias never was a particularly noble individual. As a young man he possessed a strange mixture of vanity and self-doubt, a desire to have things go his way and the cunning to often achieve this goal, while at the same time wanting to appear generous and sophisticated to others. That, however, was at a time when he was in full control of his mental functions. With every passing year that left his skin with a dozen more wrinkles and his memory with a dozen more gaps, his personality has gradually changed. Whether it was the result of acquired wisdom or slowly encroaching dementia is unclear. Perhaps it was both. Anxiety now dominates his restless days and sleepless nights, along with the fear that he is turning into something different, something “baser” than a dwarf, or even a living being in general. This has led him to believe in mercy - for himself and others. His stereotypical mannerism and the constant repetition of the things he still knows, or believes he knows, is his way of dealing with the decay of his mind in the hope that he will find a solution before it is too late and it no longer matters. Ideal: Mercy - Though I have not always granted it, I have become convinced that everyone deserves a second chance, perhaps even I. Bond: Past Memories - With the failing of my memory I have lost so much of my life that I guard whatever remains more zealously than a dragon guards its hoard. Flaw: Decay - Once I thought that to exist eternally was synonymous to everlasting youth. As my mind and body slowly decayed from within, however, I realized that I was wrong. I hope that I get the chance to put a stop to this slow corruption on my terms. Red Cards: None! I am open to all mature themes as long as they are presented in a responsible and tasteful manner. D&D Bio in Brief: I first became acquainted with the fantasy genre in my school years through the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy (long before the movies) and Joe Dever’s “Lone Wolf” game-book series. Then came Dragonlance (SAGA rules initially, then 3.5e) and DnD, which really opened new ways for me to express my creativity and imagination. After a (far too long) hiatus due to real life changes I (re)discovered DnD (now 5e) and the incredible possibilities PbP and this wonderful community offer. It has been my number one hobby ever since. What I love in a roleplaying game is the feeling of a living, breathing world: characters (PCs and NPCs) with real personalities, an established past, likes and dislikes, habits and goals. Also the many little things that make a world unique like stories, anecdotes and peculiar customs, events that are out of the PCs immediate control, surprises and unexpected twists, political intrigue and mysteries. What I am trying to contribute to each game is exactly what I have described above - a character with flaws and weakness, but with the ability to evolve, interesting interactions with the world, out-of-the-box thinking and unorthodox solutions to the problems the character faces.

[Torack]

Application Name: Tinnudor of House Bannistar Race: Half-Elf, Drow Class: Fighter, Eldritch Knight Alignment: Neutral Good Background: Noble The Question: Will it be possible for me to take my birthright without seeing the doom of my family? The Gift: A diamond and gold circlet made by his by his mother and given to him when he was acknowledged by his father Backstory The Marriage of Lord Tristan Bannistar to a drow noble, Lady Orneth, was an incredible scandal. Lord Tristan had been given multiple warnings not to marry the drow from multiple nobles and from his own father, under threat that they would forcibly strip his land and titles from him, either through petition to the King or through war. Tristan would not be swayed however, and during the legal conflict that ensued, Tinnudor was born. The King judged that Tristan's marriage to the drow was unrecognized by the gods and that his son was born out of wedlock, and would grow without inheriting his father's lands or titles. All of this was hidden from the young Tinnudor, as his father treated him as any noble heir. His tutoring began at a young age from his father's vassals, teaching him his numbers and letters, then statescraft and the proper manners a young lord should have. When he was seven, he began training with the sword, general physical combat, strategy, and the art of controlling a battlefield. When he was fourteen, a few months after his grandfather's death, his father acknowledged him in front of his vassals as his next heir. News travelled fast, and once more many of the lords were in outrage that a drow would eventually become a noble in their kingdom. Although many supported and spoke out against the xenophobic lords, Tinnudor no longer felt safe in his home and feared his father would be stripped of his titles. Along with wanting to know more of where his mother came from, he fled with his mother to the city of her birth: Mora Otheid. His mother's family welcomed him with open arms, and he quickly learned the drow were well versed in the arts, specifically in poetry and the written word. For the next couple of years, he learned the language of his people, learned the strange flowing style of their swordmasters, and learned how to craft deep, heart wrenching poetry from his uncle, Cale, a renowned throughout drow society for his silver tongue. At the age of twenty, while wandering the halls of his family's Gothic castle, he came across an ancient book and started reading it, quickly realizing it was a mage's book. He would spend the next several weeks attempting to decipher and learn the various spells with very little success, until his grandfather, Otharion, once caught him reading it in the dining hall. He told Tinnudor that it once belonged to him when he was much younger, and offered to teach him a few spells. Magic didn't come to Tinnudor as easily as martial combat or poetry did, but he spent the next several years learning under his grandfather, who noticed evocation and abjuration were easier to learn for him. His studies continued until he was twenty-five, when news reached him that Lord Emeric the Brave had imprisoned his father and took all his lands and titles. Enraged at this, Tinnudor began to set out ignoring his family's words of caution. He packed whatever possession he had on him and set out to take back his birthright. Before he left the castle grounds, his grandfather gave him the sword Neithriel, a powerful and ancient sword that been with the family for centuries. He advised him to seek out the Banshee Bride on the matter, and if her answer was favourable, his grandfather's house and its vassals would march behind him in his cause. Personality Brave: Having been raised on bravery and valour and those two principles being imprinted on him constantly throughout his childhood has shaped Tinnudor into an incredibly brave individual. He is one that easily stands in the face of fear, and threatening him only serves to stoke his wrath rather than getting him to back down. He is the sort of person that would easily run into danger for a cause he believes in, even if he knows he were to loose his life. The way he sees it, he would bring disgrace on himself and his family if he ever died in a state cowardice. Polite: Tinnudor is known for having a bit of a wrathful temper, yet despite that, he endeavours to be polite and kind to anyone and everyone who isn't trying to actively harm him or those he cares for. He smiles easily, and meets everyone with a kind one. When he's not among nobility, he does his best to hide his noble birth for fear of making them feel as though he's patronizing them. Cruel: As kind and polite as Tinnudor is while among his peers and strangers, he is equally cruel to those he considers his enemy. If given the choice between mercy, torture, or killing his enemies, he would choose the latter two. Even if he were to keep his enemies alive to gather information from them, he would rather torture them for the duration, although he finds no enjoyment in it, only seeking to cause them pain and suffering, encouraging them to talk before swiftly killing them. When it comes to prisoners of war, he understands the benefits of keeping such prisoners alive, but strongly disagrees with the notion, and would rather slaughter them than keep any of them alive. Fussy: Being born a noble and having been fussed over his entire life, making sure he looked prim and proper for any and all occasions has made Tinnudor a very fussy individual. He only accepts certain level of quality when it comes to clothes and food, his comfort being of great importance to him. He is fully aware of how snobbish this makes him, but having grown up with the best of the best for his entire life makes it difficult for him to adjust with anything less. Red Cards: None D&D Bio in Brief: Started really getting into D&D with 5e several years ago, and I've been hooked ever since. I remember trying out 3.5 when it was out, but didn't have the patience to understand its complex rules, especially since none of my friends at the time were playing it. Ever since I started with 5e, I've played several games, most of them online. Both a mix of actual play over apps and pbp. I've DM'd a few games, though I've never DM'd a pbp game. Which I should try a crack at eventually. When it comes to the style of games, I enjoy a great narrative the most mixed in with some combat here and there.

[bananabadger]

b-b-b-bump!
Filly runs a mean game. So, go ahead and apply; you know you want to!
Knock my wimpy AC12 centaur out of the running!

[Wynamoinen]

Uh-oh, I made the mistake of targeting your charisma save with a shirtless dude with self-esteem issues.

[bananabadger]

All Irish farmers are shirtless. Known fact. Acquired immunity. Double advantage to roll.

[penbeast0]

They only get away with that because it's always cloudy and overcast. Come to America, they wear striped shirts.

[bananabadger]

Originally Posted by penbeast0

They only get away with that because it's always cloudy and overcast. Come to America, they wear striped shirts.

Somebody better tell that to these red-blooded American farmer boys. Haven't they heard of a farmer's tan?

[penbeast0]

Ah, they are models, look at those shaved chests. They probably spend more time in tanning salons than on tractors. ;-)

[bananabadger]

Shaved chests reduce clinging poultry dust. It is known, penbeasty.

[penbeast0]

Real farmers like clinging poultry dust! Smells like . . . money.

[Ildrahil]

LOL, you two and your poultry dust. The real dust comes from the stomping of thousands of hoofed feet on the dusty, hardpacked ground of the cattle pens. The dust settles in your grizzled beard that covers your darkly tanned and cragged face. That's where the smell of money comes from! It's not gold dust, but it's close.



No pretty Irish lad there...and he's only 23 years old.

I haven't had the pleasure of playing with Filly yet but I have heard stories and if I'm lucky enough to be picked I look forward to a lot of fun, if you high CHA types don't knock me and my poor Tiefling outta the running!

[Gatarojas]

Name: Laceflower Undercliff ("call me Lacey")

Race: Halfling

Class: Druid 2 / Rogue 1

Alignment: Neutral

The question to ask the Banshee: How can I atone for causing the death of my Druid mentor?

The "shiny" gift you have for the Banshee and its backstory: The beautiful chrysoberyl gemstone that was the cause of my mentor's death

Background (including how you got to level 3):
I left my (somewhat) wealthy merchant papa's home when I was young, barely 15. My sisters were silly, vain things who shaved their feet, painted their toenails and cared only for fashion, weddings, gossip and suchlike. I couldn't stand that. I wanted MORE. I wanted ADVENTURE. So I slipped away one night (left a note for my mama, I'm not cruel!) from our country town to seek my fortune in the glittering city. But being in the city was not wonderful. It was muddy, noisy, busy and crowded. Nearly overwhelming. My gold didn't last long. Tried to find work but had no real skills. Couldn't even get hired on to muck out stables and me so good with horses!

After a few days of living in the world's cheapest tavern, what little I had left was lost to a pickpocket on the street. I felt his hand reaching for my purse and almost grabbed him, but he scampered away. Now, I may be a mite chubby, but I'm *fast* and agile. But he knew his way around and I lost him after a long and twisty-turny chase in -- what looked to me like -- a blind alley. It was too much. I was hungry, lost and now totally destitute. I am not ashamed to say that I wept. Then I heard a voice.

'Oy,' says the voice. 'Ye needn't blubber. Them fine clothes, that handsome purse - yer folks will see ye right.' I could have spit - the little rat-faced pickpocket flung my empty purse back at me.

'Not likely!' says I, catching it before it hit me in the face. 'I'm skint and they're leagues and leagues away, and I'm here to seek my fortune'. And at that, my tears turned to bitter laughs.

He eyed me appraisingly. 'Well, lass, ye're quick. Ye nearly caught me. I knows a feller who'll hire ye on, as a runner, like.' He opened a door that was near-invisible unless you knew it was there, and led me down a dark path. And that's how I became a thief.

How I became a druid - and caused the death of my mentor! - is another tale, for a long winter's night.

Personality: loyal, hardworking,versatile stubborn and proud

Ideal: I don't steal from the poor. Well, strictly speaking I shouldn't be stealing from anyone any more but sometimes I still do

Bond: I never want to be the cause of anyone's death again. Unless they deserve it, of course.

Flaw: Did I mention stubborn?

Red Cards: PG13 is fine

D&D Bio in Brief: Very new to RPGs, having only played once before and that was a couple of years aoo. So I'm a little apprehensive about learning all the rules. Having said that, I love fantasy and enjoyed the one DnD game quite a lot. Wasn't thrown out of the game & was invited to another, so think I did OK.

Character sheet: https://www.dndbeyond.com/characters/80142405 (although I'm not sure I've done it right; happy to change anything as needed or advised)

[Yoshimi]

Application Name: A-ru Race: Marda (+2 Wis, Darkvision, Polearm Master from cultural history of subsistence huntingCustom Lineage) Class: Beastmaster Survival and Animal HandlingRanger (Shillelagh and Produce FlameDruidic Warrior) Alignment: NG My Question: Where are there others of my lineage? Shiny Gift: A set of diamond-studded goldfronts, taken from the corpse of a vanquished half-orc bandit lord. Background: Long ago the mad sorcerer-king Ag Tafann created the Marda by transforming captive enemies into small, terrier-like humanoids for the amusement of his children, with the aid of a demon. In time, the Tafann Empire’s collusion with The Abyss led to its collapse, and the 200-strong population of terrier-folk dispersed to small enclaves across the land, some living among humans and others forming their own villages in the wilderness. Over the ensuing centuries most of these communities winked out, lacking the cohesion of a common culture. But the Marda of the Ceartas Enclave, who were descendants of lawful good paladins and clerics, were able to thrive in unity and cooperation, until further invasions and wars forced another diaspora. A-ru descended from a small, secretive pack of Marda that eked out their subsistence hidden in the Arch Wood, protected from intrusion by superstition about the haunted forest. But one by one his tribemates either emigrated never to return or were lost to wild beasts and disease. In a Netherese incursion, the remainder of the enclave was slain, captured, or scattered and A-ru himself was forced into the service of a cruel baron, who kept the novel Marda close and mistreated him. During a feast night when much of the castle was intoxicated, A-ru escaped and found a life for himself as a servant and then Sailor background: Athletics and Perceptionsailor aboard ships on the Sea of Fallen Stars. During one such adventure he was given a pair of uncommon magic itemwinged boots from the treasury of a Cormyrian captain when his crew helped a stranded vessel that had come under attack by scrags. After establishing a comfortable amount of resources and a reputation, A-ru returned to a life on land. He fell in with a cabal of druids, who taught him to foster a mystic connection with nature. He helped them fight off an incursion of blights, and eventually learned to summon a primal companion to fight with him. Alongside his spiritual albino mastiff, Sneech, the Marda ranger stalked the woodlands and hills, visiting vengeance upon bullies and brutes and searching for any sign of his kin. Personality: A-ru is a lonely guy who is used to being alone, being the only known remnant of his lineage. He tends to get lost in his own thoughts, verbalize internal conversations, and talk to plants, animals, and rocks. He is drawn to social gatherings but hesitant to join them despite the many interesting stories he has to offer. It's just a bit draining to have to explain his ancestry to every new person he meets, and the inevitable goo-goo eyes and smitten half-smiles when he walks into a tavern make him want to forget that he is civilized. Trust doesn't come easy, but get a few shots of applejack into A-ru and he does talk, and without the inhibitions that characterize human decorum. Ideal: Freedom. Tyrants must not be allowed to oppress the people. (Chaotic) Bond: A proud noble once gave me a horrible beating, and I will take my revenge on any bully I encounter. Flaw:I have trouble trusting in my allies. Red Cards: PG-13 is ok with me. D&D&I: Around the age of 8 I asked for the Boardgame "Dungeon" for Chanukah. I got the red box Basic D&D instead and couldn't make head or tail of it (but I liked rolling the dice). About 5 years later my friend told me about a cool game called D&D so I nodded knowingly and took out my set, and that turned into many years of B/X and AD&D. Took a hiatus in college then got into playing 3.5 remotely (email) with old friends. Another hiatus until the 2010's and found RPGX and 3.5 adventures, eventually got into 5e which I also play in a table game. Have played a few games in other systems too. I like to try and find places around the edges of traditional medieval fantasy to develop new ideas, within published rules. Especially on PbP where you have time to build a character. I really enjoy being in a party and having a DM where world building is collaborative.