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Old 07-08-2018, 10:20 AM
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DarkPaladin DarkPaladin is offline
Great Wyrm
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Legacy of Ruin

Nesathra - Legacy of Ruin Characters
KymrelAkrin VeltHumanRogue (Arcane Trickster)
Chri2mOmrik LindalHalflingDruid(Circle of the Moon)
Saratek187Constance WintersborneHumanPaladin of Vengeance
MontageManiacKayne CyireHalf-ElfWarlock/Paladin
PeasOfCrabForalvic SteelhoofDwarfBarbarian (Dwarven Battlerager)
TomplumNeddy "Ten Cuts" CourserHumanCleric/Thief
ParzivalFairJames GreymaneHumanWizard (War Mage)
PeasOfCrabFeldran ArkwoodHumanFighter(Battlemaster)
StonkSakret EyeoozeGoblinFighter(Battlemaster)
We understand how dangerous a mask can be. We all become what we pretend to be.
Pillaging in Saga of the Jomsvikings, surviving the trap of Krakole Pass, and Weaving the Epic Saga of Haryn
I have taken the Oath of Sangus

Last edited by DarkPaladin; 12-13-2018 at 02:25 PM.
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Old 07-09-2018, 12:19 AM
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Saratek Saratek is offline
Lost During Shipping
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Constance Wintersborne
Human Order of the Dusk Paladin of Vengeance

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Name: Constance Wintersborne
Race: Human
Class + Subclass: Oath of Vengeance Paladin - Initiate of the Order of the Dusk

Originally being spotted all of those years ago thanks to her fiery red locks, Constance grew into quite the impressive woman. Standing a mere five and a half feet tall, the woman appears small, lithe, but isn't in anyway weak. Her strength is deceptive. One would not think the woman capable of carrying, let along wielding, the massive glaive she straps to her back as she marches from village to village. Clad in steel armor, the most threatening thing about the woman is her glare. With a very pale complexion, there is a hardness to her that leaves many intimidated, and very few that would risk standing toe to toe with her, let alone match steel to steel.

Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Chosen Deity: All Wardhyr, but Base Velar

Background: Urban Bounty Hunter
Personality Traits: Constance is slow to trust anyone, especially at their word. She also has the ability to keep calm in the most harrowing or aggravating of situations.
Ideal: Dedication - Constance's sees her duties as her legacy. Her dedication speaks to the person she is, to the paladin she is.
Bond: Constance would be dead if it wasn't for Velar leading her to safety.
Flaw: Constance has dispensed justice to those that weren't technically guilty of the crimes she said they were guilty of. They were still bad people, so she doesn't lose sleep over it.

Constance is, for the most part, that visage of a stoic paladin going about their holy duties without any hint that they might have something more to them than whatever crusade they are on. And while that is very true when the woman has been given a target or a task, in her daily life, Constance tries her best to come across as warm and caring, despite that coldness about her that must accompany anyone who calls the Northern Steppes home. Always willing to be the initiator in any conversation, Constance dreams of a day when she can lay down her weapon and just enjoy the simpler things in life, like sipping a tall stout while watching the snow swirl on the horizon.


About You
Realistic posting rate: Everyday? Realistically I can probably post more often than you.
Previous role playing experience: Been a Member since '07. Started RPing in '98, and besides a few short stints here and there, for legit reasons, I've been RPing constantly.
Number of forum games you're currently playing: Uno. One, and it's the one linked in my signature. I'm just getting back into RPGX after being away for a while, but I assure you, my writing has only grown, and I'll never take on more games than I can comfortably handle. I'm an Oath taker. EDIT: Added a New Game, so 2.

Roleplay Sample: Recent Combat Post in CoEA

A common mistake that people make when trying to design something completely foolproof is to underestimate the ingenuity of complete fools.~Douglas Adams

Last edited by Saratek; 07-09-2018 at 12:28 AM.
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Old 07-09-2018, 03:58 AM
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kymrel kymrel is offline
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Akrin Velt Ė Also known as Jaspin Howser
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Name: Akrin Velt

Alias: Jaspin Howser

Race: Human (Variant)

Class + Subclass: Rogue Ė Arcane Trickster

Appearance: Akrin is a man who most people can look at in a crowd and forget again after they look away. He is of average height, neither especially broad or skinny. His dark hair and brown eyes donít stand out in any way, nor does the three-day stubble he tends to sport. He could be considered handsome by some, but his narrow chin and a nose slightly too large for his face mute that effect somewhat.

A man of many faces, Akrin dresses for the role he plays at any given moment. With his current assignment he prefers a tough leather armor covered by a gentile west and roomy jacket with puffy sleeves, designed to hide the bulk of his armor. He wears dark leather trousers and tends to be armed with a long but light blade, a sharp steel dagger in his belt and a second hidden in his high leather boots. When out of the city he tends to bring a small rug sack and either a short but powerful bow or a crossbow, as well as a quiver filled with the corresponding ammunition.

Alignment: Chaotic-Good. Akrin beliefs the theocratical system has to change, and wants that change to lead to a better society.

Chosen Deity: Akrin pays lip service to the Pantheon of the Wardhyr and occasionally says a prayer to Darwyth when the stakes are high, but he is not a very religious person.

Background: Criminal (Spy)

Personality Traits:
- I am a man of infinite patience. Once I have a mission, it doesnít matter how tough things look or how long it might take me, I see things through.
- I look down on the wealthy upper classes, people who have never had to go hungry and have never wanted for anything in their lives. People who work hard and excel at what they do are to be respected, not those who were born to riches and high status.

Ideal: Change. The gods will eventually die or leave this world and humanity has to be ready when that time comes. If the clergy loses its divine authority there could be complete chaos. It is better to erode the power of the religious orders slowly before this happens and eventually set up a system with a purely secular government.

Bond: I am a sworn member of the Maccinor and a true believer in the cause they fight for. I will die before betraying my fellow conspirators, but I will also kill without hesitation anyone who has betrayed the cause or threatens the organization in any way.

Flaw: I have a weakness for a pretty face, an expensive bottle of liquor and a high-stakes card game. Preferably all at once.

Personality: Arkin is so used to playing a role he sometimes forgets what he likes or dislikes himself, or confuses it with the role he most recently played in the service of the Maccinor. He is a driven individual, a true believer in the change he is trying to bring to society, but when heís not on the job he can be relaxed and pleasant to be around.

Although they would probably never notice, Arkin has a strong dislike for authority figures and overly religious people. When the two combine he has nothing but contempt to offer. This means that he will never call a member of the clergy his friend, but he will pretend to be to get closer to them.

Akrin avoids confrontation, preferring to solve problems without resorting to violence. He is a decent swordsman but lacks any notion of personal honor. If challenged to a duel by someone he thinks he would be unable to defeat, he is more likely to run away or try to kill his target in secret before the duel is to take place than to show up and die for some perceived notion of honor. If he needs to kill someone, he feels that it is best to do it in such a way that this someone has no idea itís coming. Itís better for everyone involved if the death is quick, quiet and risk-free for Akrin.





People say I'm evil and twisted, but I really have the heart of a young boy. In a jar, on my desk.

I have taken the Oath of Sangus.

Last edited by kymrel; 07-09-2018 at 06:34 AM.
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Old 07-09-2018, 05:11 AM
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chri2m chri2m is offline
Let the Wookie Win
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NAME: Omrik Lindal
RACE: Halfling
CLASS: Druid

SUBCLASS: Circle of the Moon

Omrik is tall and lean for a halfling from the Green Hills, standing three foot three inches tall, and thirty-seven pounds. His outdoors life has strengthened his back and turned his once flabby limbs taunt and sinewy. His round face is somewhat drawn, giving him a haunted look. He has curly, thick dark hair and startling icy blue eyes.

The last two fingers of his right hand were severed mid-digit when he caught them in a steel grape press on his parents' vineyard when Omrik was seven. This slight abnormality gave him difficulties later when he was learning druidic spellcasting. Before he mastered how to compensate for it, however, he mis-cast a cantrip, resulting in ingrown moss covering his right eyebrow, the right side of his forehead, and mingling with his hair over his right temple. Although Omrik has yet to figure out how to reverse the effect, he wears it as a badge of honor; refusing the flinch from the stares the disfigurement often attracts.

ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good

Like many followers of Kedregan, Omrik can seem aloof and indifferent upon initial meeting. His chilly demeanor is actually the results of years of disciplining his mind and emotions to find equilibrium - within himself and with his environs. He chooses his words carefully, speaking seldom. He often ignores social graces and nuances in the process of establishing harmony and accountability. Therefore, when he does speak, he can seem brusque and demanding.

Witnessing the abuse of his mother at the hands of his uncle created a deep-seeded mistrust of others. Although he understands the roots of his reactions, he still struggles to genuinely rely upon others people as easily as he does upon nature (and by extension, upon Kedregan).

Versed in all forms of animal lore, he has a special place in his heart for the smaller arboreal creatures - squirrels, chipmunks, raccoons and rabbits. He is also a master beekeeper and skilled at producing a variety of artisan honeys.


About Me

Stats Block, etc.
Not all who w(o)nder are lost... just some of us

Last edited by chri2m; 07-13-2018 at 03:38 AM.
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Old 07-09-2018, 08:34 AM
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Name: Neddy Courser

Class: Summoner's Hand (Rogue / Cleric)

Appearance: While Neddy considers himself to be a dapper vagabond most would consider him unbecoming and uncouth. The difference in opinion would come from the perspective of those making the observation. Most in civil society would frown upon the rogue's appearance and demeanor but Neddy is rarely among the civility.

His dark brown hair is always slicked back with whatever lard or grease he can find to keep it in place and his beard uneven and unkempt. He likes to dress nice but not to spend good coin on clothes. His dress coat was nice six or seven seasons ago. His trousers are made of the finest wool, taken off a dead man. Neddy wears as many rings as he can fit onto his fingers...all stolen of course. He is a hodgepodge of what can be found or stolen from others. Only the best for Neddy Ten-cuts.

Alignment: Lawful Evil

Chosen Deity: Darwyth

Background: Charlatan

I insinuate myself into people’s lives to prey on their weakness and secure their secrets.

Personality Trait 1: I lie about almost everything, even when there’s no good reason to.

Personality Trait 2: Flattery is my preferred trick for getting what I want.

Ideal: It is better for the innocent to suffer than for the guilty to escape their due.

Bond: I owe everything to my mentor—a horrible person who’s probably torturing someone somewhere.

Flaw: People who can't take care of themselves get what they deserve.

Personality: Neddy is one of those people who have an arrogant air about them but most people can't figure out why that is. To their minds he is a burden on society who contributes little to the greater good.

His service to a Summoner is what fuels Neddy's pride. Everyone has secrets and all he has to do is find them and he can lay anyone low before the Quisit Summoners. Of course, that connection must remain a secret which vexes him to no end. The respect he would be due if others knew the power he wields.

History: Neddy's upbringing would shock most who know him now but he was born into privilege as Edward Hammett. That he squandered it would surprise none. Edward liked to gamble on coursing and wasn't very good at it. Got himself into a large amount of debt to some undesirable people. When the smoke cleared from the fire that claimed the lives of both his parents and his younger sister, Edward was left to live with the result. He fell into years of despair, petty thievery and poverty.

It was then that a black robed man came to visit young Edward. The men who had perpetrated the fire that killed his family were suspects of the Quisit Summoners. The man promised vengeance in exchange for service. Blinded by rage, grief and guilt, Edward agreed. The man in black promised to teach Edward powerful magic in exchange for his service.

For now, Edward would have to use his smarts and street skills to expose the perpetrators.

About You
Realistic posting rate: Two per week.

Previous role playing experience: Been playing 5e on site for almost two years. Former 2e player way back when.

Number of forum games you're currently playing: 1 active game which posts more than once per week and 6 that post more infrequently. I also DM 4 games of my own.

Roleplay Sample: Paladin beginning a descent to a darker place. The whole fight sequence prior to this post is good too.

Grigore ; Dark character in Ravenloft retelling a bit of backstory about himself. Example of a morally ambiguous character playing nice with good aligned party members.



I have taken the Oath.

Last edited by tomplum; 07-13-2018 at 03:24 PM.
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Old 07-09-2018, 09:16 AM
PeasOfCrab PeasOfCrab is offline
Very Old Dragon
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Name: Foralvic Steelhoof
Race: Mountain Dwarf
Class + Subclass: Barbarian (Battlerager)
Appearance: Besides Foralvic's dense, rippling musculature, his frame is fairly normal for a dwarf. The brown strands on the top and sides of his head, upon closer inspection, do not perfectly match the color of his beard as they are not actually composed of hair. Instead, they are formations of metal wires set into his head. By official mandate, Foralvic does not wear his unique armor very often. His normal clothes consist of a pair of pants and a unique article of clothing that only covers his torso, leaving his arms entirely bare. In the areas where his skin is visible, the ruddy complexion of the skin is covered in random patterns of scar tissue that are small and numerous enough to not seem like anything "normal" (claws, bites, blades, or large pointed bits of metal).
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Chosen Deity: Velar, god of fire, strength, and valor
Background: Soldier
Personality Traits: A) Dude, my arms are ****ing massive. I bet I could lift you and your buddy all the way over my head.
B) Even in battle, you probably won't catch me being serious.
Ideal: Life is good, it's time to fight, Glory to Velar!
Bond: When we fight next to each other, you totally have my deepest respect.
Flaw: Haters say I'm mule-brained, casually racist/culturalist (the **** does that even mean?), and I get wild when drunk. But... the last one's pretty much a compliment, so...?
Personality: It's ****.
History: Foralvic always loved to kick in faces. That's why he joined the Shredders of Kharad Delos, to do just that. He trained up and fought a whole bunch of dirty, shitty kobolds on the border of the Azhar-Dahl. This got a bit boring for him after a while, though, so, when one of his buddies' buddies came back from leave on a trip to Arcist, he decided he should go too. Maybe he'd get the chance to see Velar. Foralvic always thought he was the coolest god, not that he payed too much attention to religious lessons even when they were talking about Velar. Having decided that, he had a couple big "accidents" and was eventually discharged for incompetence with only the armor hugging his many muscles as an indication that he was ever a Shredder. He traveled to Arcist, fell in love with the city, and decided to become a man-at-arms there. Which was cool, getting paid to sit around, spar, and take down the occasional badass threat to the city. Then, somehow, he met a bunch of losers and decided to go adventuring with them.



Last edited by PeasOfCrab; 07-09-2018 at 09:27 AM.
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Old 07-09-2018, 10:37 PM
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MontageManiac MontageManiac is offline
Simple Storysmith
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Kayne Cyire
Name: Kayne Cyire (Sigh-Err)
Race: Half-Elf
Class: Warlock (Hexblade Pact) Lvl 1 / Paladin Lvl 2
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Chosen Deity: Darwyth

Hair: Black
Eyes: Brown
Wt: 210 lbs Ht: 6'1”
Age: 24
Sex: Male
Kayne has long, straight and flowing black hair. He often uses this length to obscure his slightly pointed ears so that he can pass, at least on first glance, as a human. He is above average height, at 6 feet 1 inch, and is of average, but wiry build, at 210 lbs. His build is more like that of a trained dancer than a warrior lithe and quick in form, but strength in upper body and legs for movement and speed. He dresses in browns and blacks, appropriate for travelling in darkened and worn areas of the world, a life of travel rather than decadence and luxury.

Background: Knight of the Order (Order of the Dusk)
Personality Traits: I’m always polite and respectful, as anything else would visit too much scrutiny. I face problems head-on. A simple, direct solution is the best path to success, and leaves little room for others to question my loyalty.
Ideal: Greater Good. Our lot is to lay down our lives in defense of others, even if they cannot accept who you are.
Bond: My mentor saved my life on the battlefield at the cost of her own. To this day, I will never leave a friend behind.
Flaw: I’d rather eat my armor than admit when I’m wrong.

Personality: Kayne is in a tough spot. As a half-elf he’s not welcomed anywhere, merely tolerated. He has constantly oscillating between misfortune and luck throughout his life. This has left Kayne to feel as though he should count his blessings, and try to pass on whatever good will he can so that other’s lives may be improved more than his. In the face of almost constant adversity, he maintains his focus inward, to bettering himself, and believing in his own truth despite the challenging reality he faces outwards. He doesn’t ignore the reality of the world, he just chooses to try and rise above it. Some days he does this better than others. He believes in being more open to others, a reaction to the isolation he’s felt from being closed off, involuntarily, from the world.



About Me
Realistic Posting Rate:I usually post while I’m at work, but I’m checking the site every day a number of times. I should be able to post about 3 times a week if there’s enough content to do so reasonably without it feeling like a short update of a few lines.
Previous Roleplaying Experience: I started D&D in 4e with some friends, and I’ve been playing 5e in PbP format only (hard to meet regularly in a group with my job). I’ve been playing it for… 7 or 8 years now?
Number of Forum Games you’re currently playing:
DM: Scales of War 5e | Yeohven: Fall From Grace
PC: Tyranny of Dragons | The Curse of Strahd | Tomb of Annihilation | Legends of the Forgotten Earth
While it may seem like a lot, a majority of those games move at about 1 post a week at max. The games I DM vary, but I run a pretty organized campaign so they don’t interfere much with my other gaming. I don’t think it’ll be a problem, but I can address concerns if you have any.
Roleplay Samples: Legends of the Forgotten Earth | Tyranny of Dragons | The Curse of Strahd


PCs: Dramoth "Nova" / Rhokax Soulreader / Kayne Cyire / Torm / Donovan Whistler
GM: Scales of War 5e & Yeohven: Fall from Grace
Real Life hitting harder and harder. Working on updates as soon as I can, please have pity (patience) on me!

Last edited by MontageManiac; 07-10-2018 at 01:27 AM.
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Old 09-06-2018, 12:48 PM
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ParzivalFair ParzivalFair is offline
⦓ Breathe The Dark ⦔
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Name: James Greymane

Race: Human Variant

Class: Wizard (War Mage)

Background: Junior Justicar (Re-skinned Urban Bounty Hunter)

Alignment: Lawful Good

Appearance: Tall and wiry, James is a man of sleight build and serious demeanor. He is reasonably handsome and has dark hair paired with piercing blue eyes he inherited from his father. His skin is of a smooth olive complexion, reminiscent of his mother's, and he has the ghost of a scar on his right cheek stretching from his cheekbone to his jawline, the reminder of a failed spell.

James can usually be seen in his Justicar's uniform, a sturdy outfit in white and sky blue that is subtly enchanted to shrug off stains and dirt. He usually has on a heavy leather trench coat and matching leather gloves, and wears a rapier and fighting dagger on his hip.

Personality: James is calm, confident, and collected, but feels that he has always lived in his parents' shadows. Their achievements have long overshadowed anything he could have done as a member of the Phaedashyn, and he has had to cope with the stress of living up to their lofty expectations. This has led to a willful and intense demeanor that can be overwhelming at first. But when James takes the time to relax and unwind, he can actually be quite charming and witty, showcasing his dazzling intelligence.

Character Sheet: Here!

Background Stuff

Current Status: ON SABBATICAL
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Old 11-23-2018, 03:45 AM
PeasOfCrab PeasOfCrab is offline
Very Old Dragon
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Feldran Arkwood
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Name: Feldran Arkwood
Race: Human Variant
Class + Subclass: Fighter (Battle Master)
Alignment: Neutral Good
Chosen Deity: Ahyla, Goddess of Life
Background: Noble

Personality Traits: Often bears a seemingly stern, neutral expression at a distance that quickly melts into warm smiles when excited or having good conversations with people. Tries to joke but is not too good at it.
Ideal: To be a great and beloved hero, at least half as great as one of The Saints!
Bond: The success of the Arkwoods rests on my shoulders.
Flaw: I have a lot to learn about the world. The lessons of history can only show me so much.
Personality: Optimistic and naive. Quite obvious about his thoughts and emotions.

History: House Arkwood has seen better days. Ever since the errors of Feldran's forebears naught but a couple generations ago, the Arkwood fortune and fortunes have been steadily declining. Even his own father, pleasant and hard-working that the man may be, has done little, if anything, to correct their course - having chosen to engage with the strangled merchant class of Nesathra in a gambit that has not ever meaningfully paid off. Feldran has understood this from a young age. Rather, he was made to understand - by his tutors, by his loved ones. Unfortunately, unlike his father, the boy had no mind for numbers. Nor did he possess a silver tongue and keen wit which would help him maneuver the machinations of the nobility. He may have read plenty, both for pleasure and in the hopes of finding answers to both day-to-day problems as well as the greater issues plaguing his family, but ultimately found it difficult to apply most of what he learned. Except, that is, for tales of glory and combat.

Feldran grew quickly into a young man who would train when he wasn't reading and read when he wasn't training. All were in agreement - his parents, his instructors, himself, and his dear younger siblings - about where his talents and future lay: the Knights of Nesathra. Admittance into the Nessanar Academy came easily enough to Feldran and, within those hallowed walls, he was soon known for his ability to best nearly anyone within a couple years of him in a fair duel. However, Feldran's lack of social graces has done little to help him gain the favor and connections he knows his family is searching for, through him. Nor has the relative peace of the Nesathran countryside done much to help his advancement. With only an impressive record in combat exercises to one's name, promotion does not come easily.

This has only changed in recent seasons, and not for the better. A contingent of Knights was sent to deal with a group of dissidents that had begun to break away from previously held agreements with certain, prominent nobles. With the reports of the enemy's terrible deeds fresh in his mind and the orders to "do their duty for the pure of Nesathra," Feldran was commanded into battle. Raiding the settlement in a surprise attack proved effective, but chaotic. During the raid, Feldran found himself alone, face to face, with his first real enemy - a man 40 years his senior, bearing an old Helmsman's uniform. It was a desperate, hard-fought confrontation but the strength of youth eventually prevailed. Knocking the man into a wall and kicking away the mace they'd been wielding, Feldran ordered the winded man to surrender. His opponent looked at him with surprise and confusion but returned with the young Knight back to his unit. Instead of any commendation, however, Feldran simply received a look of annoyance as one of his fellow Knights ran their blade through the older man's skull. His unit continued forward - the battle turning to a rout turning to a massacre. While Feldran helped defend his fellow Knights, people he'd lived, laughed, and sparred with, he felt his arm grow weak every time an opportunity to strike a killing blow presented itself. With or without his help - he was just one strong body among a hundred - the raid was a resounding success, the targets slaughtered nearly to the man, woman, and child, exactly as the leadership knew it would be.

However, Feldran's... oddness did not go unnoticed. And, despite his lack of sense for subtle matters, Feldran too has noticed that the little favor his martial skill had earned him has diminished since the raid. When the special orders for him came, the young Knight was not wholly surprised. Perhaps it was a test. Perhaps they no longer trusted him to stand side by side with his noble Brothers... as they had hacked apart a pregnant woman, splitting child from mother in their final, cold moments, or took torch to a barred, screaming, hollering, barn. ... Did he trust himself? To do that? Hard to tell... At any rate! It seemed like an odd assignment - but Feldran knew that he needed to do unequivocally well here. For his sake, for House Arkwood's sake. He must press on.



Last edited by PeasOfCrab; 11-24-2018 at 12:43 AM.
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Old 12-10-2018, 09:53 AM
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Stonk Stonk is offline
Great Wyrm
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Name: Sakret Eyeooze
Race: Goblin
Class: Fighter (Archery) | Battlemaster
Appearance: The cooling of the evening air in his freshly dug warren awakens Sakret. He takes a quick look around and the last rays of dusk sunlight penetrate the underground hovel. In here the others of the Eyeooze family sleep, but he is the first to rise. He stretches but is too tall to fully stand in this warren, as he is tall and lanky for a goblin. He moves over to a small chest where he keeps his things safe and opens the lock. He pulls out some crude but important earrings and puts them in. He begins his daily rituals. He traces the intricate scars on his body with his fingers, they tell a story of the hunt and his role in his tribe, a tale of bravery, sacrifice, and pain, the goblin way. He then tends to his teeth, making sure each is razor sharp, testing it with his tongue, tasting his own blood again. He gathers his short bow and arrows and makes his way out of the warren. As he leaves the sun is setting, he walks over to the small stream nearby and goes to take a drink. He gazes at his reflection, his brownish green mottled skin is typical of his race, his long pointed nose and ears are speckled with small warts and cuts. He breaks the reflection with his hands and takes a long drink, even he could only stand his ugly face for so long. It was time to hunt.
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Chosen Deity: Erkuus the Dragon Slayer
Background: Outlander (Hunter/Gatherer - Change athletics to stealth if possible this character won't wear heavy armor)
Personality Traits: I have a lesson for every situation, drawn from observing nature.
I once ran twenty-five miles without stopping to warn to my clan of an approaching monster horde. Iíd do it again if I had to.
Ideal:Honor. If I dishonor myself, I dishonor my whole clan.
Bond: My family, clan, or tribe is the most important thing in my life, even when they are far from me
Flaw: I remember every insult Iíve received and nurse a silent resentment toward anyone whoís ever wronged me.
Personality: As always Sakret is the first of his tribe to arrive. When it comes to the hunt he does not want to be late, he does not want to let his people down. If the hunt is unsuccessful the tribe might go hungry. He closes his eyes and lets the wind hit his skin, A northern wind, winter will soon be here. he thinks to himself, as the crispness of the breeze reminds him how important these final weeks will be. When his hunting party arrives he give most of them a respectful nod, as they are his peers, proven hunters who have paid their dues, bled and fed the tribe, but today he only glared at his hobgoblin companion. The hobgoblin, Grekstil, made an insulting comment to Sakret during the last hunt, blaming him for the failure. In Sakret's eyes, the entire group was responsible and he would not let the slight go. Gretstil didn't care if Sakret, a goblin, liked him or not but that didn't stop Sakret from seething. His actions would shut the upstart up. Today the prey they stalked would fall to Sakret's steel.

History: The Hrudik tribe is a small tribe that has made their home in the forests of the Stormtowers just north of Nesathra. Led by the Hrudik, son of Hrudik a family of strong orcs. The tribe survives by following herds of grazing forest animals in the summer months and spending the winter month in the deeper, unoccupied, caves of the Stormtower mountains. In the forest, the Hrudik dig small warrens among the tall trees to hide their positions and hunt at night. The Hrudik tribe hunt, trap and skin many types of animals throughout the seasons. Through the years the Hrudik tribe have mastered a tanning technique that produces high quality furs that are sought after by Nesathrese merchants. In addition, they also train wild dogs for hunting and keeping guard. These dogs are taught commands in common and often traded for premium prices. Another tribal staple is a rich fat infused jerky called Threskin which they also trade with other settlements. Currently they have a working relationship with some Nesathrese merchants for their furs, dogs and jerky. Their leader wants to make sure the relationship stays strong but also a secret as they don't want too many visitors to their territory. Because they have to stay underground during the winter they have encountered dwarves, the dwarves allow them free passage in the under dark as the tribe spends the coins they earn during the summer months with them and don't cause trouble.

As darkness falls in the forest the hunting party moves out, determined to bring in a kill today. Sakret knows that their failure yesterday has put a bad mark on the party and they had to be successful today. He listened to his lead hunter lay out the plan. Nodding at his orc leader he left to take his place, perched on a high tree, waiting for the herd to turned his way. He carefully pulled an arrow from his quiver, he licked the fletching and nocked the bow. He took tow more arrows out and pushed their steel tips into the branches of the tree so they would be ready to grab. Then he waited, as he did he couldn't help but remember how he got here.

As a young goblin he learned how to pull a bow from his father, Ykret Eyegouge. Ykret was the first goblin to ever join a Hrudik hunting party and have a place at the table of honor in the chieftains tent. His father never spoke of what was discussed in the tent, but Sakret was determined to find out for himself. As the seasons past Sakret developed into an exceptional archer, even surpassing his father in skill. He was brought out on the hunt and was proud to be contributing to the tribe. He loved listening to the elders tell stories of glory and tales of the great betrayal. Though he had never seen a human he knew they could not be trusted. As Sakret's father grew older he became sick, the illness took his strength, but his wisdom was saved. Now his father was an elder, passing his knowledge on to the children of the tribe, a role that the older Eyegouge secretly loved, and it fell to Sakret to provide for his family.

The sound of the beating deer hooves in the distance awoke Sakret from his daydream. Even though he couldn't quite see the beasts in the darkness yet, he could smell them. In moments the animals came into his sight and he was ready. He pulled back on his short bow, and in one fluid motion he pulled back, aimed and fired. He repeated this two more times as the speedy herd trampled by his perch, their hooves pounding on the ground shaking the tree he was in. He held on tight, he did not want to fall into the stampede of forest deer.

Before he could look up, he heard a cheer from his hunting party, he must have got one. When he looked up he saw that he had managed to kill three deer, each with an arrow in their hearts. As he climbed down he beamed with pride as he ran to the others. He approached them and they had begun to process them, but then their attention diverted.

They all looked and pointed in the direction of their tribe. He turned around and saw a bright light in the sky, a blue warning flare. He turned to look at his party, "Humans approach! Lets get back as soon as we can." he cries. His leader grunts, "We process the kills first, then we leave." Sakret nods, and begins to help. What could humans want with our tribe now? The merchants are not due for some time he thinks to himself. Maybe this time he will be able to interact with the merchants.

About MeRealistic posting rate: 1 per day or more
Previous role playing experience: I have been playing 5e for three years now, and have a ton of 2ed experience
Number of forum games you're currently playing: I am in 9 games at the moment, most move very slow. I am DMing 2 pbp games as well and occasionally DMing on City of Edless Arenas
Roleplay Sample: Jaster defeats an enemy, Skrynn introduces himself, Vinist has a dream, Dalgrin Survives the attack, DM Post Introduction to Chapter 1


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