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  #46  
Old 09-12-2018, 10:59 PM
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Because you need a farmer...

Farmer
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Martyn
Name: Farmer Martyn
Race: Human (Variant)
Class: Ranger
Age: 21
Alignment: Neutral
Background: Defining Event:I stood alone against a terrible monster.
Traits: If someone is in trouble, I’m always ready to lend help.
I judge people by their actions, not their words.
Ideal: Sincerity. There’s no good in pretending to be something I’m not.
Bond: I worked the land, I love the land, and I will protect the land.
Flaw: I have a weakness for the vices of the city, especially hard drink.
Folk Hero
Backstory I really don't know why they all think I'm a hero. Seriously, I just held out my pitch fork and closed my eyes. That thing practically impaled itself. Okay, since my eyes where shut it DID impale itself. Anyhoot, nobody wanted to hear that so now I'm a hero. At least I got me some militia training as a scout after that and so can swing a weapon with one eye open. Shoot a bow, too. Hopefully that's enough for the next time.

So here I am, minding my own business, traveling to Kamplinn to sell some piglets for widow Jenny. She's too old to do it herself and well it seems heroes are supposed to help out and all that. Anyhoots, this half-orc pops up out of nowhere and decides to tag along. I suppose I could tell him to skedaddle but there's that accommodating hero stuff that your supposed to live up to and all. He's a bit creepy though and all them mushrooms he carries just plumb frightens me. Might be he's a poisoner and not a cleric like he says. Still, he hasn't done anything sneaky, so that's a good start. Hopefully, I'll get to the Kamplin in one piece.

Last edited by Invictus; 09-13-2018 at 12:16 AM.
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  #47  
Old 09-13-2018, 12:55 AM
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Name: Thailen Utherian
Race: Dwarf (Mountain)
Class: Paladin
Alignment: Chaotic Good.


Appearance: Standing an impressive 4 foot nothing Thailen is short among his kin, and since being out of the world in seclusion he has lost most of his dwarven bulk weighing just shy of 150 pounds. His hair is usually matted with dirt and grim but when clean shows a pale brown. His armor on the other hand is polished to a shine on a regular basis as tribute to Mordin even though its plain in design and loose fitting.


Personality:
 


Background:
 


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Last edited by crowdarkfall; 09-13-2018 at 10:36 PM.
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  #48  
Old 09-13-2018, 07:05 PM
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@Ellie Thank you for the update.

@Invictus You do have to keep Kamplinn fed...

@Crowdarkfall thank you for the application.

I will update the table and give more feedback tomorrow, the 14th. A migraine kept me from doing the work I intended to do today prior to heading to my real job.
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  #49  
Old 09-14-2018, 11:15 PM
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I'm by no stretch the DM and haven't even been accepted into this game yet, but... thank you Invictus for the coolest app I've ever seen with your farmer/ranger! Perfectly and concisely depicted! High five Definitely someone I want to be playing with.
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Old 09-15-2018, 07:36 AM
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I, too, love the application, and thank you for the mention!
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Old 09-15-2018, 08:28 AM
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COMPLETE
Onwards, to town!Name: Orgrimm Neksnappa
Race: Half-Orc
Class: Barbarian

History:
Orgrimm Neksnappa knows little of his true origins. Discovered as a babe abandoned on the roadside by an old couple bereft of children themselves, they took him in and he spent his earliest childhood years upon their farm, raised as if he were their own. They were always kind to him, and provided for him without complaint, even when his incredible growth was coupled with an incredible appetite, that often taxed their meagre means.

Life was good, for the most part. He grew quickly, and possessed a strength that served him well in a life of farming. Off his back alone, they raised many a fine crop. With apparent ease he tilled fields, managed the animals, and kept the wild animals at bay. He took to the life naturally, and the couple lived fairly remotely, so the unkindness of wider society was generally something Orgrimm managed to avoid.

Of course, as is almost always true, good things do not always last. There came a fateful, tragic day, when one of the plough mules was being most uncooperative. Depsite Orgrimm and his adoptive father’s best efforts, they could not settle the agitated beast into pulling the plough. Sadly, this seemingly insignificant event would change Orgrimm's life forever.

Orgrimm was no stranger to frustration. Farm life was hard, and many things could go wrong that would annoy or irritate him to no end. This day, however, was different. A relative teenager at this point, he grew inexplicably angry at the beast, his frustration rising so much that he could hear his heartbeat pounding within his own ears. It were as if a fire had been stoked within him, and with every stubborn utterance of the creature, that fire blazed brighter and hotter, until it could no longer be contained.

Before anyone knew what was happening, Orgrimm gripped the beast by its head, and proceeded to tear it off from the neck. Shocked, angry and concerned, his adoptive father approached Orgrimm in an effort to calm him. It was a movement that would cost him his life as Orgrimm, gripped now by a rage he neither understood, nor could control, felled his father with a single sharp blow of his giant fist to the head.

Nearby, his adoptive mother saw it all unfold and shrieked, running to the prone figure of her lifelong love. In a moment that sticks within Orgrim's mind today, breaking his heart over and over again, she never quite made it to him. Still caught in the red haze of rage, Orgrimm moved against her as well, his incredible strength more than sufficient to crush the life from her old, frail form.

The whole encounter took but a few short moments. With no one else moving around him, it was not long before Orgrimm slipped from the grip of his rage, to become fully aware of what he had done.

To say he was devastated, is vastly insufficient.

Lost, alone, and with the blood of the only two people who’d ever cared for him on his hands, he had no idea what to do. So he fled. He knew he could never go to the nearby villages where his parents sold their wares… they’d blame him instantly for what had happened and that would be the end of him. Even worse, such blame would be rightly placed.

Reeling from grief, despair, self-pity and loathing, he determined to seek out the other part of his heritage. Considering the circumstances he could see no other people who might accept him. There was no home for him amongst humanity, not after what he’d done, but perhaps he might find a place amongst the orc tribes. Besides, the rage that had overcome him so completely was not something that was from his human side. It was born of the orcs, and if he was ever to stop such a thing happening again, it would be by learning from those who lived with it every day of their lives.

So he buried his parents, said his goodbyes, and made his way to the lands of the orc tribes. He took the name Neksnappa for himself, not as a name to intimidate foes or make boastful claims, but instead as a means to remind himself of his unforgiveable crimes, and the cost of losing himself to his rage.

He had no idea of his true heritage, but he made his way to the lands of his people easy enough. He found a clan willing enough to take him in, and spent the rest of his formative years fighting as one of the warriors of the tribe. He was strong, the many years of his childhood doing farm chores helping to develop his natural orcish strength, further supplemented by the battle hardening that came from fighting for the tribe.

Orgrimm conducted himself well enough, earning begrudging respect for his natural affinity with battle and, much to his own disgust, the ferocity of his rage whenever it slipped the fragile leash upon which he held it. That respect, however, came coupled with a disapproval that ran deep amongst his adopted tribe. Orgrimm was not like other orcs, the memory of his adopted human parents went with him always, and he tried to conduct himself as they would have wanted. Kind, compassionate and caring.

Needless to say, this ultimately did not serve Orgrimm well. His strength and fury in battle might have carried him far, amongst the orcs. Yet his warm heart, guilt ridden and ashamed of his rage, would see him forever languishing amongst the rank and file of his fellow warriors, never destined for anything great. Indeed, despite his battle prowess, he often heard rumours amongst his kin that he was an ill omen, his bleeding heart a liability despite how true his axe might fall. He began, in time, to fear that one day they might just fell him in his sleep, rather than tolerate him any longer.

Somewhat ‘fortunately’, Orgrimm would never have to learn if such a thing would eventuate. During a particularly bloody battle against a rival tribe, Orgrimm took an unseen blow to the head, which felled him utterly. It was a blow that might have slain a lesser orc, and there was every possibility that it came from one of his tribal kin, but it mattered not. Orgrimm was made of sterner stuff, and instead sunk into unconsciousness. As his world slowly faded, the din of battle and shouts of his kin growing increasingly muffled, he was sure a strange whisper entered his rage-filled mind, cutting through the ire-driven beat of his heart to whisper unintelligible things to him. As his world went to black, he almost swore he could hear the voice of his parents, urging him not to let slip the valuable gift of life.

*****

When Orgrimm came to, he was alone. Whether his tribe had won or lost the battle, he could not be sure. All he knew was that he was alone, abandoned, and that his head thumped like a vengeful demon, crusted blood still fusing one of his eyes closed despite every effort to force it open. As he slowly gathered himself, he would fight back a growing despair having not lost one family but now two. Taking up his axe, he picks a direction at random, and just walks, knowing nothing of what he might find.

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Personality:

Orgrimm is something of a paradox. Raised in a warm, nurturing household by adoptive parents who loved him, he is unnaturally kind and warm for a half-orc. Despite the inner demons that haunt him from his past, Orgrimm manages for the most part to maintain a joviality that belies his history, and endeavours always to see the best in others, as well as offer the best of himself.

Unfortunately, and much to Orgrimm's own shame, this is coupled with a rage so blinding that it consumes him utterly, burning away every ounce of his true character until he is simply a being of primal rage. When the rage takes Orgrimm, there is little left of the kind, loving half-orc who once was happy tilling fields and caring for newly birthed livestock. Instead a beast, rage incarnate, is unleashed.

As a result, Orgrimm is left to come to terms with his actions only after the fact. As a result he usually bears great shame, only part of which he allows others to see. His own inner dialogue is a mix of self loathing for what he might have done, and of optimism that maybe next time he will find the trigger that helps him master the rage and keep it in check, or at the very least, control how it might be channelled.


Appearance: Orgrimm stands at 6'11", and weighs 112 kg. A mass of almost pure muscle bound by greyish skin with a slightly green hue, Orgrimm cuts a pretty intimidating figure. A life growing up on the farm, partnered with his years as a warrior of the tribe have shaped him into a sizeable prospect, developed to the epitome of strength. His hair is long and black, pulled back into a ponytail and bound with with leather into a loose topknot style. His skin is scattered with scars, and all in all he cuts a pretty intimidating figure.

That is, until, anyone spends more than a few moments in his company outside of battle. His eyes, rather than blazing with an inherent hostility so common for those of orcish heritage, sparkle with a warmth and mirth that is both surprising and disarming. When not threatened, or under the influence of his mind altering rages, his face is almost in a perpetual grin, exposing his canines in a way that at first alarms, but then shortly after ruins the intimidating air and replacing it with one of mirth.

Generally speaking, Orgrimm's usual demeanour mostly bestows upon him an endearing quality, for those who can get past his appearance.

RP Sample:

Trudge. Trudge. Trudge.

Heavy footfalls descend upon the rain-soaked road, splashes of displaced mud and water the result of the large half-orc’s passing. He trudges on, oblivious to the rain that comes in almost sideways upon him, its heavy drops running down his heavily muscled physique.

He’d travelled so many miles in this fashion, it had long since gone past being even hypnotic. At this point, every step that Orgrimm took was essentially automated. Sometime, perhaps an hour ago, perhaps a day, he recalled vaguely being tired and sore. He’d pushed through that until he became almost mechanical in putting one foot after the other.

Trudge. Trudge. Trudge.

He pushed onwards through the heavy rains, having no idea where he was or what he might be walking towards. He knew only that it did no good for him to not walk. The road would lead somewhere, and that somewhere was definitely better than nowhere. Nowhere being exactly, at this moment, where he was.

So he continued on, heedless of everything around him. Until he wasn’t. Suddenly, something demanded his attention. A wail, a cry perhaps? Surely a trick of the wind? Maybe not, as it persisted. It wasn’t the first time on this long walk from nowhere to somewhere that he’d heard the wind speak to him, but it very rarely kept talking to him. Often it was fleeting, as if he’d almost hear it, until he tried to hear it, at which point it simply ceased to be.

This time was different though. He thought he heard it, and then he tried to hear it, and he heard it still, but clearer. A cry, clear as day. A cry for help even. Perhaps this time, unlike the others, the cry was real?
Orgrimm slowly stirred from the stupor imposed by the monotonous trek along a long and featureless road. Someone ahead, on that very same road, was in trouble. They called for help. He raised his head and narrowed his eyes, raising his large hand to shield those eyes from the heavy rain. It was hard to see in such conditions, but he swore he could see something just ahead, but a few metres away.

With something of a determined growl he surged forward at a run, bursting forth towards the shapes he could barely discern within the rain. After a short run, he came upon an overturned cart upon the crest of the road. A wounded horse lay upon its side, moaning quietly but in certain pain. A single glance at its hindleg told Orgrim it was done for. That leg would never heal, the best thing to do for the horse, was end its suffering.

Ka-thunk.

The edge of his mighty axe buries itself so deep into the skull of the horse, that it was unlikely the creature even knew it was about to die. With a quick jerk, Orgrimm pulls the blade free, and flicks droplets of blood free with a simple movement of his wrist.

A piercing shriek catches his attention, and Orgrimms gaze swings to a nearby face looking up from beneath the overturned cart. A human, woman it seemed, lay there in the mud staring at him in horror. The fear on her face was mixed with a liberal dose of pain as she seemed pinned beneath the overturned cart. None of that, however, seemed much of a concern for her, as she stared fearfully at him.

He’d seen that look before. He knew what it meant, and knew that trying to talk to her, would only make it worse. Instead, he lay down his axe and moved purposefully over to the cart. Reaching down towards the woman, ignoring her pleading shrieks to spare her life, he grips the edge of the cart and begins to strain with every bit of his considerable strength. After a moment or two, he turns the cart over completely, flipping it back up upon its wheels. Without so much as even a glance at the woman, he reaches once more for his axe and turns once more to the road before him. Without waiting for so much as a thank you, he presses on.

Trudge. Trudge. Trudge.

Onwards he walked, another brief memory forged upon a long and forgetful road. Yet more miles to pass beneath his weary, numb feet. Walk he would, as far as was required, until he found a purpose, a place to belong, or even the end of his days. He knew not what lay before him, except... and he pauses as the rain suddenly ceases for the first time in days. He wipes the wetness from his eyes and shakes his dreary vision clear, trying to focus for the first time in what seemed an age upon what lay ahead.

A town. He couldn't remember the last time he'd approached one of those. Supposedly they were to be avoided, at least that's what he'd parents always said. Or, alternatively, they were to be raided, which was what his tribe had always said. To come upon one now, when he was so alone and without the advice of others to guide him. It was an intriguing prospect. For the first time in his life he viewed the town with excitement. Not fear nor bloodlust. No sense that he must avoid, nor orders to descend upon and destroy. This time, the choice was his, and his alone. Curiosity piqued, and a wide grin of anticipation stretching his protruding jaw, Orgrimm makes the first decision he'd ever made of his own accord.

He was going to go to that town, and he was going to see what a town actually was. And what a town it would turn out to be.. the town which, he would learn soon enough, was named Kamplinn.


Last edited by Arkaon; 09-15-2018 at 09:38 AM.
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  #52  
Old 09-15-2018, 02:39 PM
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Alright, a little less than one week left for application submissions and editing. Deadline is Sept. 21st 10pm PST. All submissions will be closed at that time; anything posted after that will not be considered. I plan to spend the weekend reviewing applications and making selections Sunday/Monday, the 23rd-24th.


Good News for Everyone:

With as many applications that have been submitted I WILL BE RUNNING TWO PARTIES.





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  #53  
Old 09-15-2018, 03:16 PM
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Can't wait to see how this goes, good luck everyone!


Last edited by crowdarkfall; 09-15-2018 at 03:16 PM.
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  #54  
Old 09-16-2018, 02:38 AM
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Crowdarkfall626 View Post
Can't wait to see how this goes, good luck everyone!
I wish the same for you. There are good Character to fit this history so it will be a challenge to get in!:P
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Old 09-16-2018, 05:08 AM
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This Blood Hunter homebrew class looks pretty interesting and polished, and as an avid fan of Juiblex I'm doubly excited. I'll see about writing something!
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Old 09-16-2018, 08:52 AM
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Originally Posted by Muggins View Post
This Blood Hunter homebrew class looks pretty interesting and polished, and as an avid fan of Juiblex I'm doubly excited. I'll see about writing something!
I wanted to bloodhunter but the idea of playing a maid warforged won and because I never played a cleric before, I wanted to try. I think it's better to learn to use class in party filled with people that never played before because if you screw up they won't get mad, they wouldn't noticed either because the fun. I know that cleric are life savers and one spell misused would mean that the group will take a higher risk of getting someone dying. Even so I will want to learn how to use a cleric because the can be amazing through they aren't damage dealer perse or the shield meat of the group. I know it is fun to defeat enemies but support others to achieve goals can be exciting too... (In MORPRG I liked to play supporter classes)

Bards are great too and is the class that I enjoy playing the most but sometimes changes are good. At some point I will have to try the druid too!:P
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Old 09-16-2018, 01:30 PM
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Agathe the Slayer
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Name: Agathe Bergeron
Race: Human
Class: Blood Hunter
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Background: Humble Beginnings, a twist on Folk Hero and Urchin
There are a multitude of adventurers who come from all walks of life - Soldier, Noble, Sailor, Chef. Then there is you, an adventurer without a past, or at least none of note. Your life has been one of hardship, but you've always made the most of the hand life has dealt you.
 

Appearance: Since stricken by Hunter's Bane, Agathe returns to her hometown looking much unlike the adolescent girl she once was. Her now snow-white and straw-like hair is almost as long as the massive sword strapped to her back. The nightmarish visions that haunt her slumber wear at her fiery eyes, but not at her mighty thews. Her robes, much like her plain face, conceal a deadly intent - one reinforced by scale armour and a cunning beyond her years. She is a weapon now, and that much is plain to see.
Personality: Agathe is possessed of a terrible hypocrisy. Despite praising the virtues of reason and sensibility, she seeks out comfort from nostalgia and is driven by powerful emotions. Worse, she wears her past hardships on her sleeve; she is outspoken and volatile, especially towards those who would seek to silence, correct, or mock her. Despite all this, though, she is a remarkably well-read disciple of the Order, and is not so far gone as to be without mirth or forgiveness. Her courage and stubborn perseverance are charming, in a way, and invaluable against the worst of monster-kind.
Writing Sample:
 
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Old 09-17-2018, 12:59 PM
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Old 09-17-2018, 01:12 PM
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Basic InfoName: Izumo
Race: Human
Class: Bard
Alignment: Neutral Good
Background: Entertainer


Character ConceptTraveling bard based off the KoMuSou monks of ancient Japan. Plays the Shakuhachi (flute) with overall somber and calming effects. Primarily relies on the effects of his magic, specializing in enchantments and illusions. Also carries a traditional Naginata (Japanese pole-arm) for melee combat, if necessary. Has a tragic past where he lost his family, and thus took to a life on the road to either find a new love, or at least share his musical gifts with as many others as he can.


Appearance As a traveling bard from the far east, Izumo wears the traditional attire of his clan, consisting or robes covering his torso and legs, with additional coverings of soft, leather bracers for his arms and the back of his hands (called Teko). On his feet he similarly wears the traditional Tabi-socks and traveling straw sandals (waraji), native to his homeland. From his neck hangs a pouch, displayed prominently on his chess, decorated with emblems of protection. Arguably the most striking feature of his attire is the basket hat, which covers his entire head, allowing for vision only through the slits opened in front of the eyes.
 

 



Personality Overview: Izumo is somewhat of an enigmatic character, since his face is frequently hidden behind his basket hat. As he is also not a talkative individual, one would think that he makes a poor first impression on those he meets. Yet, though often quiet, he is caring and good-natured, exuding a serene calmness, which allows others to trust him.
The somber, almost sad overtones of his musical performances produce calming effects, which cement the reaction of others towards trusting him.
Once he opens himself to trusting others, he will be prone to remove his hat when resting and be more comfortable with his companions, though he is ever calm and serene.
Traits: Nobody stays angry at me or around me for long, since I can defuse any amount of tension.
Ideal: Tradition. The stories, legends, and songs of the past must never be forgotten, for they teach us who we are. (Lawful)
Bond: My instrument is my most treasured possession, as it reminds me of someone I loved.
Flaw: Distrusts authority.


Miscellaneous Writing Sample/Character Backstory:
Izumo was once a famous bard in his hometown, specializing in the classical music of his homeland with his Shakuhachi flute instrument. Marrying at an early age and starting a family with children, his life was struck by tragedy when an invading clan slaughtered his village while he was called away to discuss matters of politics with the lord of his clan.
Stricken by grief at the destruction of his village and loss of his family, Izumo swore off his oath to his clan and decided to wander the world, to use his music in an attempt to bring the calm and happiness to others, which he himself could not attain.
A few years have passed since that fateful event in his life, and while Izumo has seen much from the strange lands he has traveled, he now comes across the rustic, frontier town of Kamplinn....

What kind of Player Am I?:
My heart has been into fantasy (and science fiction!) for many years, but I only ever had occasional opportunities to experience experience an actual RPG. Rather than recount those limited, ancient experiences, let me fast-forward to a few months ago when I first joined RPGcrossing looking for an outlet to express my limited creativity and indulge in my penchant for fantastic stories. I have since completed my NPSG and managed to join two other games.
I can definitely commit to 2-3x per week posting schedule. I find myself constantly checking the site throughout the day for any updates to the few games that I'm involved in. However, I tend to resist the urge to respond immediately, instead preferring to mull the scenario over in my mind and taking time to craft the post. I often spend time to do some research on details to include in the post, or to think through the nuances of various actions and responses that my character could provide, or sometimes I choose to just 'go with the flow'. Above all, my goal is to indulge my hobby and tell a story that I find entertaining or intriguing, and through the magic of shared storytelling, I hope will be entertaining to my fellow players (and my DM!) as well.

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Old 09-17-2018, 02:10 PM
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@silverfeathers Hi. Would you consider a revised ranger who formed a begrudging relationship with a hawk/falcon that could serve as a companion for the beast enclave ranger option at lvl 3? Since the hawk is not one of the animals that you can select as the companion.

If you would, I might have a character idea to put into this.
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