[D&D-5e] Rime of the Frostmaiden

[Woland]

I think my application just came through. Sorry, new user, so had to wait a bit for approval, but I thought to let you all know so that it does not get buried

[G in Japan]

Originally Posted by Woland

I think my application just came through. Sorry, new user, so had to wait a bit for approval, but I thought to let you all know so that it does not get buried

Got it. Thanks for the heads up.

[Zinrokh]

The Thrice-drowned Prophet Blacktyde, Priest of Umberlee Name: Blacktyde Race: Human Class: Barbarian; Path of the Zealot Background: Sailor/Acolyte/HermitPriest of Umberlee Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Personality trait I: I place no stock in wealthy or well-mannered folk. Money, manners and prayers won't save you from cruelty and viciousness of the sea. Personality trait II: I have no fear of death, for what is dead may never die but rises again harder and stronger. Ideal: Tradition. The ancient traditions of worship and sacrifice must be preserved and upheld. Bond: I'm still seeking the enlightenment I pursued in my seclusion, and it still eludes me. Flaw: I am dogmatic in my thoughts and philosophy. Appearance: Blacktyde cuts an imposing figure; tall, broad and well built. His hair and beard are unkempt and unstyled, grown long and wild. He is always clad in salt-stained robes and the leathers of aquatic beasts. His attire includes various talismans and charms; dried seaweed, mermaids purses, driftwood shards, shells and bones, each item offered up by the oceans. At his sleeves and collar are the edges of coal-dark tattoos (swirls and primitive thalassic knot-work) which hint at a greater work hidden beneath. Upon his chest hangs an iron talisman, a holy symbol. Represented upon it were two ocean waves, both curling outward from the centre, one left and one right. A great blade wrapped in moulding cloth is strung across his back. Background: Blacktyde is a hermit priest of Umberlee. He lives upon the open coast bedding in driftwood shelters each night. He has travelled the length of the Sword Coast by foot and by ship, living off the coin and offerings left upon alters by seafarers and fisherfolk. As a follower of the Queen of the Deeps he is welcomed aboard ships to stay the Bitch Queen's wrath. Much as other clerics of his faith his presence is tolerated in the greatest cities of the Sword Coast that are reliant upon the ocean trade. Recently word has come from the priests of Luskan: First Tide has yet to come to port city this year. The ice is yet to clear from the harbour and the offering ment for the Wavemother are instead now offered up to Frostmaiden in the hopes that the captains might once again sail south. Blacktyde is now filled with zealous purpose... travel north beyond the City of Sails, to the Ten Towns beyond and end this unending winter. RP sample: Light and Comedic Dark and Grim

[AG128L]

Consider me interested, but I have a few questions before I go too far with a concept that may not work.

Since artificer has been released in Tasha’s, it would be allowed, right? If so, would it be possible to reflavor a crossbow as a gun, or do guns conflict with your vision of the Forgotten Realms?

Would it be okay to apply with a character I’ve been running in West Marches? I’m pretty excited for how well she fits the theme of the setting. I would of course change her backstory to incorporate the Icewind Dale region.

Lastly, do you allow custom backgrounds as described on page 125 of the PHB? (ie pick any 2 skills, 2 tools/languages, an equipment package, and a background feature)

[Maestrosity]

Cleric of Auril Name: Nillish Race: Lizardfolk Race: Male Class: Nature Cleric of Auril Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Background: Outlander Trait: I drift off in trance-like daydreams. Trait: I am always calm, no matter what the situation, due to my limited emotions. Ideal: Life is like the seasons, in constant change, and we must change with it. Bond: An injury to the unspoiled wilderness of my home is an injury to me. Flaw: Don't expect me to save those who can't save themselves. It is nature's way that the strong thrive and the weak perish. Lizardfolk Quirk: Money is meaningless to me. Description: A thousand words Personality: Nillish is a typical lizardfolk. He sees the world as a place of predators and prey, where life and death are natural processes. He wishes only to survive and prefers to leave other creatures to their own devices. He has a very limited set of emotions, which mostly revolve around comfort and discomfort. He will judge whether or not something is beneficial to his chances of survival first and comfort second, and act accordingly. History: Nillish's parents had been trappers in the woods between Termalaine and Lonelywood. They taught their children, Nillish and his two sisters, the business: catch an animal, eat it, turn its remains into something useful, sell the item in a town, buy something you need, return to the woods. As such, Nillish knew some of the traders. They led a simple life, with which Nillish was content. They were not the only trappers in those woods, however. There were a few other lizardfolk families that led similar lives. One of those lizardfolk was Sheea, a female specimen that Nillish played with as juveniles. When they grew up, Nillish and Sheea decided to start a family together. Their four children were still young when the white roc first appeared. Nillish and Sheea tried everything to appease The Cold Goddess, but nothing seemed to work. The animals they used to trap became sparse. Their life became uncomfortable. Nillish and Sheea agreed that if one could not beat winter, one had best join winter. They started to pray and sacrifice to Auril, and though the sun still didn't shine, something did change. Nillish and Sheea both received the ability to cast spells. They decided that while Sheea took care of their kids, Nillish would leave the woods to try to find out what it was that Auril wanted. His plan was to give her whatever she had come for and allow the sun, the animals, and their normal lives to return.

[DrGonzo]

Just out of curiosity, I know in RoTFM cannon the story takes place a little more than a century after the events of the RA Salvatore Icewind Dale books. Did those events play out in this continuity? I assume they won't have much impact on this story if at all, but just want to know in the event I want to weave some of those stories into Slag's bar stories, as he likely would have been a boy at the time of those events.

[Nikolas]

Are you willing to allow a Verdan as a race? I believe they're in Faerun.

[G in Japan]

Originally Posted by AG128L

Consider me interested, but I have a few questions before I go too far with a concept that may not work.

Since artificer has been released in Tasha’s, it would be allowed, right? If so, would it be possible to reflavor a crossbow as a gun, or do guns conflict with your vision of the Forgotten Realms?

Yes, an artificier would be allowed. In regards to guns, I’d be willing to discuss how we can get something like that working.

Would it be okay to apply with a character I’ve been running in West Marches? I’m pretty excited for how well she fits the theme of the setting. I would of course change her backstory to incorporate the Icewind Dale region.

I’m fine with reusing a favourite character.

Lastly, do you allow custom backgrounds as described on page 125 of the PHB? (ie pick any 2 skills, 2 tools/languages, an equipment package, and a background feature)

Yes.

Originally Posted by DrGonzo

Just out of curiosity, I know in RoTFM cannon the story takes place a little more than a century after the events of the RA Salvatore Icewind Dale books. Did those events play out in this continuity? I assume they won't have much impact on this story if at all, but just want to know in the event I want to weave some of those stories into Slag's bar stories, as he likely would have been a boy at the time of those events.

You are welcome to reference those events. I haven’t read any of the Icewind Dale books beyond the Dark Elf Trilogy, so I am not familiar with the stories, but if you know them and want to enrich the story by referencing them, please do!

Originally Posted by Nikolas

Are you willing to allow a Verdan as a race? I believe they're in Faerun.

This is from Acquisitions Incorporated, right? I’m going to say no.

[TibbyLTP]

Mouser   Name: Mouser Race: Kenku Class/Profession: Bard/Spirit Medium/Story Teller Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Background: Inheritor Personality Trait: - Thinking is for other people. I prefer action. - When I set my mind to something, I follow through no matter what gets in my way. Ideal: Destiny. Nothing and no one can steer me away from my higher calling. (Any) Bond: I have a family, but I have no idea where they are. One day, I hope to see them again. Flaw: I'm convinced of the significance of my destiny, and blind to my shortcomings and the risk of failure. Description: Sex: Male Pronouns: They/Them Height: 4'9" Age: 35, a little over middle age for Kenku. Features: Black Feathers/Eyes. Dark Grey Beak/Talons. Clothing: White cold whether tunic with green and purple accents and stitching that strangely bring thoughts of death and decay to those that look at them for too long. Dark brown dyed leather belt and straps that hold various tools and pouches that help in Mouser's trade. Personality: Kenku have no normal voice, but instead communicate by replicating the sounds of others. As such talking with Mouser is a jarring experience at first. They quickly switching between voices every couple of words as they construct their sentence from individual words or phrases heard from previous conversations. Spending enough time talking with Mouser one would find that a large number of words come from two elderly human voices. These were from a old couple that were good friends of Mouser's family, and spent a long time reading individual words to Mouser when they were young. After a while talking with Mouser or even traveling along with them for a while one would start to hear their own voice being spoken back to them from Mouser. This is often very disconcerting to people. Mouser, however, is a very friendly and caring creature that wishes to do what they can to help people. Mouser is often seen telling stories and old legends in the communal areas in the towns of this region. Tales that they heard from traveling bards as they are able to recite them exactly how the professional bards did. This is a great boon to the peoples of the region as bards rarely travel to their towns so any new stories or news of the rest of the world are very much wanted by the townsfolk, and Mouser is happy to help. Background: Mouser's family is well known in the region as they have a unique connection to the spirits in the area. They often travel around and give funeral rites and commune with those that wish to speak to their lost loved ones one more time. While in this communion the spirits are able to directly talk through the Kenku with their own voice, even if the Kenku had never spoken to them in life. Mouser is the eldest son of their family and as such was training with their father, Foxer, to one day learn the secrets of the families connection to the spirits. Tragedy struck when, about a year and a half after Auril shrouded in the land in an everlasting winter, Mouser's father was mauled by a ravenous bear. Travel between the towns was already a arduous journey before Auril arrived, but the lack of food caused by the endless winter has lead many carnivorous animals to be more bold and desperate for food. Mouser was able to wound and chase off the bear, but was unable to heal their father. In his last moments Foxer gave Mouser a small puzzle box and told Mouser to "Trust the Spirits." To this day Mouser has been unable to open the box, but is determined to do so. They also seek to one day put a stop to Auril and return the land to its normal state. Roleplay Sample:   The sound of the branch breaking was the first thing that woke Mouser up, the second being the fall from the tree. It has been said that strange things pass through your mind when in situations of distress, and this is no different. The only thing that passes through Mouser's head is Huh, it must have snowed last night. The next thing they realized was that they were in a snow bank. Checking themselves quickly they find that they are unharmed. Giving a quick sigh of relief Mouser stands up and brushes their self off. Picking up their pack they pull out the puzzle box and fiddle with it for a while. Having never seen a puzzle box like this before Mouser can do little more than fiddle with it fruitlessly. After a while Mouser gives up, puts the puzzle box away, and continues on their journey to the next town. At about mid day a snow storm picks up just as Mouser arrives in the next town. Tired from the day's trek and wanting to get out of the cold Mouser first heads to the tavern. As Mouser opens the door they mimic a bell chime that is set up in their favorite shop in another town, they think it is very cute to have that on a door so they do it each time they walk into any establishment. The barkeep looks up at the chime and gust of cold and gives a warm smile, "Greetings Mouser, it has been some time since you have been here." "Greetings Terry. I apologize for not coming sooner," Mouser squawks as they shiver from the cold. They take a seat at the bar, orders a warm meal and catches up with an old friend.

[Nikolas]

Name: Watt Mason
Race: Human(variant)
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Class: Fighter(Eldritch Knight)
Background: Soldier

Appearance: A tanned skin man, odd given the climate in which he lives. Watt spends as much time as possible exposed to the sun. His hair is a dull blond and is greying. He is heavily scarred, whips, slashes, stabs, and old bruises that never healed. He is missing teeth and has a gouge scar below his left eye, through which he has diminished sight.

Personality: Watt is generally emotionally stable. His face rarely gives up his secrets. He likes to believe he is a fair business man, and never takes advantage of those he deals with. When in the dark he enters a catatonic state, under great force of will he can make himself act. He has a similar reaction to being forced into a tight space with many other people. He loves to listen to others share their tales, but will not share any involving his enslavement.



Lifetime: At one point Watt attempted to join the Flaming Fist, but was refused. He instead became part of a mercenary group called The Wallet Military. In this group he moved higher in rank thanks to his sharp mind, and his physical alacrity. While on hire his group was ambushed by drow and taken prisoner. Watt spent 15 years in the Underdark he was tortured and worked to the point that his breathing wracked his body. He was thrown out as refuse when his owners thought him dead. Now back on the surface he has a problem with crowded spaces and has to subdue a freezing panic attack whenever he is in the dark. He makes candles, selling some, and keeping his lodgings lit at all times. Watt is a new resident of the area, and nobody knows him well enough to call him friend yet.

[G in Japan]

Quick question to the GM: I actually have another character idea, and I could potentially post it given sufficient time, but are you limiting applications to one character per applicant? (I think I would like both concepts equally well-the other idea would be a druid from Kuldahar, as in the game series, but not sure if Kuldahar is canonical in Rime).

Let's keep it at one per person.

As for Kuldahar, I believe it is only canon within the Icewind Dale video game.

[Woland]

Originally Posted by G in Japan

Let's keep it at one per person.

As for Kuldahar, I believe it is only canon within the Icewind Dale video game.

Thanks! I shall stick to Irekahn then!

[Zinrokh]

App is complete. If you need anything else let me know.

[AG128L]

Character Application Name: Ivanka Frostborn Race: Dwarf Class: Artificer Alignment: Lawful Good Background: Customized Outlander Traits: I judge people by their actions, not their words. I believe that anything worth doing is worth doing right. I can't help it-I'm a perfectionist. Ideal: Greater Good. It is each person’s responsibility to make the most happiness for the whole clan. (Good) Bond: My clan is the most important thing in my life, even when they are far from me. Flaw: Once I pick a goal, I become obsessed with it to the detriment of everything else in my life. Appearance: Ivanka has pale skin and dark black hair. She wears her hair in traditional dwarven braids, but rather than wearing it long, she keeps it pinned up where it cannot get in her face. She typically wears a white coat for warmth with a hood she can pull up to hide her dark hair against the stark white landscape. She has striking blue eyes and an intense gaze. Her build is fairly typical of a dwarf. Backstory: Ivanka was born in Dwarven Valley, a dwarven mining community located near the Ten Towns. Her brother worked as a smith using the mined metals, and Ivanka shared this drive to create. However, when she was old enough, she was asked to become a hunter and sentry for the clan, rather than a smith like her brother. She would provide food and protection from any beast or person who would threaten the settlement. Even though Ivanka longed to be crafting, she accepted her duty. In fact, it gave her plenty of time to analyze the rifle she had been given as a weapon. Her job often found her nestled behind a snowy outcropping, her eyes trained on the horizon, searching for movement. Her time as a sentry gave her patience, self-reliance, and a keen eye for trouble. As of two years ago and the start of the Everlasting Rime, the trade path between Dwarven Valley and one of the Ten TownsBryn Shander has become more treacherous, and extra protection is needed for the dwarven merchants selling their crafted wares. Ivanka was moved from hunting duty to be an escort for the merchants traveling to Bryn Shander. Over the past two years, she has been constantly traveling between the two settlements, spending as much time in Bryn Shander as Dwarven Valley. She can be found tinkering on small, portable projects when the caravan has a moment of rest. Personality: When Ivanka has a job to do, she doesn’t waver. Having spent much of her time on watch duty alone in the elements, she is more comfortable with her own thoughts than trying to decipher the words of others. She appreciates hard work and doesn’t like taking short cuts. However, she does appreciate new ideas and clever solutions. In spite of her rigid loyalty to her clan, she believes they could benefit from some innovation. Surely the sturdy dwarven craft could be augmented by equally sturdy enchantments. And if a few things break along the way, it doesn’t bother her. Some things have to be broken in order to get stronger. Connections: Her brother, a dwarven smith One of the dwarven merchants she has been protecting A human living in Bryn Shander from whom she buys her tinkering supplies Notes: I imagine Ivanka speaking with a Russian accent. She has an affinity for lightning magic, and I plan to go Battle Smith and give her a wolf steel defender. All of the location names came from the Forgotten Realms wiki.

[Spinrad]

Gutterborn Summoner Name: Pilcro Fogmaw Race: Goblin Profession: Back Alley Shepherd (Druid - eventually Circle of the Shepherd) Alignment: Neutral Background: Urchin Personality Trait: - I eat like a pig and have bad manners - I don't like to bathe Ideal: Change. The low are lifted up and the high and mighty are brought low. Change is the nature of things (Chaotic) Bond: No one else should have to endure the indignities I've had to endure. Flaw: It's not stealing if I need it more than someone else. Description: Standing a touch over four foot, Pilcro is an odd image - part child, part garbage heap, part impossibly long and scarred ears, part vermin. If, that is, someone actually caught sight of the nimble and elusive beggar. Pilcro is still young, with pale green-grey skin, a busted tusk, and clad in the oversized clothes thrown out or forgotten by villagers. The shy goblin is furtive and skittish around adult humanoids and anyone bigger than him, and is often found in the company of small swarms of rats, or flocks of crows, or gangs of stray cats. As a goblin, a beggar, and an urchin and outcast, Pilcro does everything in his power to vanish into his surroundings, whether those surroundings be fellow strays, the stonework, the shadows of an alley, or among the vermin. Personality: Pilcro is shy, reserved and suspicious, rarely speaking to any but those he's deemed "friend." And he has few of those, indeed. Pilcro has been alone for most of his short life, having been abandoned in the gutters of Ten Towns and reared as much by the animal strays of the towns as the other urchins and downtrodden. As such, the goblin is often tripped up navigating the differences between the laws of mankind and the laws of nature - Pilcro is aware of the conventions of civilization and the rift between "humanoids" and "creatures," though he has a hard time seeing them as different. His speech is often punctuated by non sequiturs, tangents and outright oddities, though his tics have never discouraged those who've benefited from his kindness. In spite of his oddities and shyness, Pilcro is actually quite gregarious and curious by nature, suddenly exhibiting manic bouts of conversation and activity once he's determined to his own satisfaction there is no danger. History: History is a bit of foreign concept to Pilcro. He's not really sure where he came from or how, but his closest friends (both humanoid and animal) guess that he was abandoned in the towns as a baby since he has no memory of parents or an upbringing, per se. What he does know is that he grew up in the sewers and alleys of Ten Towns, mainly trying to figure out how to eat and not get beat by larger children or adults in the process. Over the years, Pilcro developed a sense of the town, finding secret ways and hiding places, and beginning to figure out that no, you can't just have that loaf of bread. You have to exchange it for those shimmery little round things. And that while the Watch is there to protect the town, that doesn't include you, you dirty little beggar! Pilcro is unsure of the concept of years, but has been in Ten Towns many many seasons over - surviving, protecting the small and reviled, and helping those worse off than him. And while he's been able to recognize the signs and messages written in the flora surrounding Ten Towns all his life, it's only within the past few seasons that he's begun to recognize that some of those messages were actually left by others with the powers he's always taken for granted. While Ten Towns is and always will be his home, Pilcro Fogmaw knows the Druidic messages are calling to him with promises of understanding and a duty to help restore balance in any way he can. He knows that what the people of Ten Towns call the Everlasting Rime is not true with the right order of things. Roleplay Sample:   The shouts and squeals and oaths thrown down the alleyway were routine by now. The man Pilcro had come to identify as "Carver" raged out of the alley door after a pair of urchins and a trio of mangy stray curs. Blood from the day's butchering stained the leather apron and breeches barely constraining the man's ever-widening belly. As Carver bellowed at the small pack of thieves, Pilcro detached himself from the shadow he'd been hiding in and slipped into the shop - quiet as a mouse and twice as quick. He quickly looked around, relieved the butcher's murderous hound wasn't there, before scrambling up to the counter and latching onto a fistful of sausages. "YOU!" The tiny creature clad in dingy breeches, barefoot and barely visible under an enormous fisherman's sweater and floppy hat spun, it's green cat-eyes enormous pools of limpid fear. Behind Carver stood his hound, a vile monstrosity of gristle and hunger, drooling already as it eyed up the goblin. "I'll teach you to steal from me!" the butcher bellowed. "At him!" he yelled to the dog, loosing the dog on the hapless urchin. From the alley, Pilcro could hear the two boys shouting to leave him alone. That made him smile, his lip catching on his broken lower tusk as he focused on the incoming dog. With a whistle and a few choice rodent phrases, Pilcro simply stood watching the oncoming dog. Just as the creature's jaws were about to snap, both dog and master froze. A horrible chittering sound echoed up from the cracks in the plastered walls, building and approaching fast until finally, the cracks erupted with rats! In the years that followed, Horch Bullocks, the butcher, would tell anyone that would listen about the strange shade he caught in his shop one MidWinter's Eve and the wave of vermin the creature visited upon him, spiriting away his entire inventory and leaving him only his mean-tempered dog and a fatty bone he'd had to fight the dog off of. He very specifically did not mention that it was a goblin child that bested the tightest butcher in Ten Towns.

 

Working on a character portrait - will update as I have it. Thanks and looking forward to potentially checking this out!