[D&D-5e] Phoenix

[Drager]

Just wanted to thank everyone for their applications so far and encourage them to ask me any questions they might like to know the answers to. Group 1 is underway and I'm thoroughly enjoying it. Excited for group 2.

[mystwatch]

Do I have to change to the Warforged of the newest book? I'm not too attached to Wayfinder's version but I've heard Last War's doesn't have subraces...

[Drager]

I would rather use the latest version. It doesn't have subraces, but has the best bits of most.

[Yuul]

*shakes off Iron DM dust*

I have returned, will commence the brainstorming immediately.

[Drager]

I've expanded a little on the Lore in the opening post and am keen to answer any questions or expand on points people are interested in.

[mystwatch]

Merp. Pretty out of it with 5e lately so it is with some sadness that I say I'm pulling out. I don't want to be a burden to the game as someone lacking enthusiasm. Good luck to everyone else!

[Boomy]

Application Name: Perun Donnerbart Race: Mountain Dwarf Class: Fighter Background: Clan Crafter (Smith) (SCAG, p.145) Trait: I believe that anything worth doing is worth doing right. I can't help it — I'm a perfectionist. I believe that work defines men, and can’t stand people who avoid their responsibilities. Bond: One day I will return to my clan and prove that I am the greatest artisan of them all. Ideal: Community. It is the duty of all civilized people to strengthen the bonds of community and the security of civilization. Flaw: I demand respect everywhere I go and am easily agitated by people who don’t treat me as equal. Appearance: Perun is a dwarf of average size for his species. He’s got a long beard, and long, but tied back hair. He’s got a clearly developed musculature thanks to the years he spent at the forge, though his appealing body is also covered in scars, earned mostly in tavern brawls. Personality: Perun is mindlessly focused on work, and largely unable to concentrate on more than one thing at once. He has a lot of care for his family, friends, and the general community around him, and finds work to be the best way to repay for everyone’s kindness. He’s bashful about his nature, and often hides it behind a mean tongue. Backstory: Perun is a dwarf from the relatively small Donnerbart clan located within the dukedom’s mountains. His father was Svarog Donnerbart, a dwarven wizard who brought shame to the family by wearing armors made of only half plate, but made up for it by fighting in close quarters, shock grasping his enemies. He died one day by tripping in battle and shock grasping his own armor, at which point Perun, his oldest son, was forced to provide for the family. Back then Perun was young and inexperienced, he couldn’t compete with local dwarven smiths, so instead he moved to Schutzberg. There he joined a dwarven smithy, and has since been sending a quarter of his earnings to his family. As a brash, foul-mouthed dwarf with an affection for a tiny scuffle in the evening, he would often get into trouble. As the list of his minor offenses grew large, he decided to join the Wache as to make up for his transgressions. RP Sample: Note: The Scottish accent is optional. As the muscular dwarf opened the doors to the guard captain’s office, a cloud of pipe smoke enveloped him. The middle-aged guardsman spent most of his time looking through documents and schedules. Despite his title, he wasn’t the only captain, nor a particularly important one. Seeing the dwarf come inside and climb the little seat in front of him, was nearly a shocking experience. “Oh my. Did I smoke my brains out or is it Perun? I just got a new complaint against you, old buddy. Let me fetch it.” Yes. I came to talk about that.“Och aye. Ah cam tae gab abit 'at. ” For the dwarf, it was weird seeing the guard outside a tavern. As the captain put a huge pile of documents in front of himself, Perun was a bit shocked. “I’m not that problematic, am I?” the thought worried him. “You extorted old Gilligan.” “I sold him a ladder.”“I sauld 'im a ladder.” Perun objected. “After you pushed him into a ditch.” Perun crossed his arms. He almost answered, but stopped himself. “You wanted to say you’ve been drunk that night?" “Well I didn’t…”“Well oi didn’t…” “I was supposed to put up a poster after you tomorrow. For general and continuous disturbance of peace.” “So I’ve heard. That’s why I’m here.”“So i’ve 'eard. that’s why i’m 'ere.” Smiled Perun. “You want me to throw you into the jail early, or what?” “Well, my smelly, balding, badly dressed, beloved friend, I want to join the wache!”“Well, me smelly, baldin', badly dressed, beloved mucker, oi want ter join de wache!” The captain reeled back in his chair. “That way we might actually work something out...'' He agreed.

[Drager]

The accent is fine to keep if you wish, but dwarves in Aldan speak more Klauisch as their native tongue, which sounds like this "Olá, eu sou o Ricardo." with an accompanying Portuguese accent when speaking Aldanisch. You can easily keep the Scottish accent though and I'll just roll with it as a dwarf that has localised their accent somewhere else for some reason.

[penbeast0]

I did a grammar check on Sammi's application and cleaned it up a bit.

[Phasmus]

Name: Horace Mirin
Race: Human
Class: Druid
Background: Outlander
Traits: I have a lesson for every situation, drawn from observing nature. I study the doings of civilized folk as a naturalist might observe animals in the wild.
Bond: I owe a great debt to the people of Schutzberg who took us in when we needed help
Ideal: Balance between civilization and the natural world is crucial to the survival of both.
Flaw: The contagion that destroyed my home has left me with a dread of sickness. I avoid contact with the sick and treat even the mildest symptoms of disease in myself or my companions with a flurry of concocted 'natural remedies'.

Appearance:
Horace is surprisingly pale for all the time he spends out of doors. His milky blue eyes contrast sharply with his messy black hair and haphazardly trimmed beard. He is about 6 feet tall, but walks with a stoop that makes him seem shorter. He wears disheveled travelers' clothes covered by a cloak of patchwork skins. On his head sits a wide brimmed straw hat which seems on the verge of disintegration, held together with mud and plant resin from previous repairs. He exudes a strong odor of mint and pine trees.

Personality:
While lacking in social experience, let alone social graces, Horace's instinct to stand aside and observe serves him well in most civilized dealings. He tends to interact by asking questions and his clinical air can seem aloof to some, though he has no particularly high opinion of himself. His obscure sense of humor leads to bouts of muted chuckling at odd moments. His instinct, enforced by his communal upbringing, is to step in and help when needed. In polite society this can easily leave him looking like a meddling busybody.

Backstory:
Horace was brought up as the eldest son of a large family in a tiny, nameless wilderness enclave in the foothills of the Drachen Klaues. Schutberg was the nearest real civilization but aside from occasional trading excursions the community was almost entirely self sufficient. Horace's peculiar predilection for listening to and occasionally speaking back to the forest ensured that when he came of age he was sent to the Standing Stones high in the mountains to learn the old ways. His initial journey went well and to his parents' pride it was the first of many.

While he was on one such trip disaster befell his home. A stranger had arrived, sick and begging for help. The man didn't last the night but his illness spread like wildfire, killing many in just a handful of days. The survivors were too few and too weak for the community to survive the winter. When Horace returned there was little for him to do but help the few who remained, which included just one of his brothers, travel to Schutberg and entreat the Duke and distant family members for succor.

 

Bonus Background RP:
"Horace! Come in here, would you?" Archibald Mirin tried to hide the exasperation in his voice, but didn't do a particularly good job of it.
"Yes Uncle, what is it?" The scruffy young man hustled into his uncle's study, dirt still thick on his hands from whatever he had been doing in the garden.
"Betta and I have been talking and we think you should take up employment in town."
"Employment? You mean work for money? For someone else?" Horace looked like someone had slapped him in the face with a newt.
"I mean exactly that."
"But, I thought I was helping you here. You know, in exchange for your hospitality."
"Your help has been fine. More than we bargained for actually. But you know how superstitious Betta is. Magic, even 'forest magic', doesn't agree with her. And the way you've trained the pigs..."
"I didn't train them. I just asked nicely."
"Be that as it may, they're going to slaughter in a few months and now they're behaving like house pets. It's making things...", he paused to search for the right word, gave up and settled on, "more difficult than they need to be."
"I'm sorry Uncle. I didn't know it would be a problem."
"I'm sure. Anyway, your talents are wasted here. I know your father, rest his soul, would've wanted you doing more than skulking around on my farm making the plants grow."
"What else can I do? There's less to make grow in town. I checked."
"That's all taken care of actually. The Watche is looking for individuals with special skills. I used to be in the reserve myself, you know? They're good people and I know they will be happy to have you. I told them to expect you this afternoon."
"This afternoon? I'll need to leave right away and I won't be home until after dark. Maybe I could finish with the pumpkins and go in the morning?"
"Oh, no fear my boy, you'll be staying in town."
Realization dawned on Horace at this point and the color, what little was there to begin with, drained from his face. His uncle was too polite to kick him out, but arranging for 'employment' in town was nearly the same thing. He should have expected something like this. He had made the pigs too friendly.
"What about Alwin?" Horace asked in a shaky voice.
"Your brother will stay here with us, of course. If he wants to join you in town once you get your feet under you that's up to him."
"Thank you for, for, taking me in, and making arrangements." Horace said weakly. "I should go get my things."
Betta bustled into the room at that moment with a relieved smile on her face. "Oh Horace, we're both so proud of you, going off to join the Watche! Here, I packed for you!" She shoved his battered knapsack into his hands. "I even put in lunch."
"Thank you Aunt Betta." Horace tried to smile back but managed only a dazed grimace. "I'd better go say goodbye to Alwin."
Archibald would have stood from his armchair to embrace his departing nephew, or at least shake his hand, but there was a pig sleeping on his lap so he just sat and waved.

 

RP Sample:
Horace spied his brother planting seeds in the back garden. He slowed his approach and tried to reason out how he could explain his departure. They had lost too much all at once and he wasn't sure how his brother would handle another sudden absence. Alwin noticed him before he could speak, turning and eyeing the over-full pack Horace hadn't yet bothered to sling over his shoulders. Horace still wasn't used to his little brother's sickly appearance. He had survived the disease but even now, months later, he was too thin and his breathing was labored just from the minor exertion of planting.

"G'mornin' Horace. Going somewhere?"
"Yeah, seems Aunt and Uncle want me to go to town to join the watche."
"Well, I bet that'll be interesting. They're still mad about the pigs?"
"Uh, yeah." Horace paused, looking for signs that the shock of the news was getting to Alwin. He didn't see anything obvious, but just in case he added hopefully, "Of course I'll come back and check up on you whenever I can."
"I trust you will."
"Aunt and Uncle have taken a definite liking to you. I'm sure they'll take good care of you while I'm away."
"Yup."
"But if you have any trouble at all, get word to me and I'll come."
"I know it." Alwin squinted up at his big brother. "You don't need to worry too much about me. I like it here."
"Oh, well good. I was going to say, I might find a spot for you in town if you ever want to go."
"Thanks but I didn't like it too much when we passed through."
Horace looked over his shoulder at the winding dirt road that would take him to Schutzberg. By his standards it was a sprawling metropolis and he didn't feel like anything in his life so far had prepared him for it.
"Me neither." he muttered.

[Boomy]

The accent is fine to keep if you wish, but dwarves in Aldan speak more Klauisch as their native tongue, which sounds like this "Olá, eu sou o Ricardo." with an accompanying Portuguese accent when speaking Aldanisch. You can easily keep the Scottish accent though and I'll just roll with it as a dwarf that has localised their accent somewhere else for some reason.

In that case I'd rather drop it to keep the lore in place, no need for Perun to be from a clan of weirdos. Portuguese dwarfs are an interesting concept, maybe I'll try throwing Portuguese sounds into the sentences instead.

[Drager]

I'll write up some of the dwarf lore for you in the week.

[penbeast0]

When you say Portuguese, are there Brazilian equivalent half dwarves in chainmail thongs?

[kanly]

Really, I think that all dwarves are in chainmail thongs. Sure it chafes, but such is the price of beauty.