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  #61  
Old 11-28-2018, 08:43 PM
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It should be noted that I am just a helping fellow applicant, and not the DM/GM; as I thought I made clear in post #54 above. I post this based on the PMs I am getting.
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  #62  
Old 11-29-2018, 12:35 AM
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I've got a pirate concept for just about every class in the system, I just didn't want to post them all and went with the one I wanted to play most.

I imagine the disparity in casters has to do with the setting making them somewhat outcast which lends itself neatly to sea based outlaws in my opinion.
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  #63  
Old 11-29-2018, 03:01 AM
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I hope I didn't do your boy too dirty, Pseudonymous, not a huge fan of RPing other people's characters, but I admit it's an interesting challenge.
Not at all, I really enjoyed reading it!

I'm looking forward to finishing my own RP segment-- this is indeed an interesting challenge!
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  #64  
Old 11-29-2018, 10:53 AM
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Hello everyone

I just wanted to drop by and prove that I’m still alive and still interested. I’m a student, and all of my finals are on Monday, which means this week has been finishing final assignments and studying for exams. I’ve been absurdly busy, but I’m still here, and still looking forward to running the game.

Thank you all for the interest and applications, because I’ll be so busy this weekend, I will not be able to make selections just yet, and there are some unanswered PMs I have to get to regarding applications, so I want to give them time to throw something together. Therefore, I’m pushing the application deadline back until Tuesday, December 4th with selections being announced before the end of the week. Sorry for the delay.

Also, big thanks to @Drachenspirit for putting the table together. Started to do that myself, but never got around to finishing/posting it because of assignments. I’ll copy that into the original post.

Thanks again to all, good luck.
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  #65  
Old 11-30-2018, 02:18 PM
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If I'm not too late, I would like to express interest. I should have everything ready by tomorrow evening.
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  #66  
Old 12-01-2018, 01:55 AM
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I just now found the Witch class for 5e. I might just keep what I got but the temptation to go with my original concept is great

And that's if you would allow the class too.
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Old 12-01-2018, 04:20 PM
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Character Application Finished.

Name: August Icardi
Race: Fallen Aasimar
Class: BloodHunter-Order of the Lycan
Alignment: Between Lawful Evil and Chaotic Neutral. The scale often tips with August. Generally,as a rule of thumb, August has his own code he follows. That code can swing on the pendulum though when faced with truly evil creatures. In regards to the more basics of humanity, August doesn't appear to have any malice or ill intent at all. True to his calling as a Blood Hunter, vices and flaws that have the potential to sway his personal code can sometimes cause a more serious inner conflict.
All the fun stuffBackground and History: (Urban Bounty Hunter)-
Parents
Abigail and Leaf Icardi (Human) Died during a Lycan attack in the small village of Astarea (or insert any small village on the map that no really cares about). While August was still within his mother’s womb, the Lycan invaders ravaged their world around them, nine months and two days she carried August, the first of their greatly loved and cherished children they planned to have. But as the carnage and chaos ended as abruptly and unwarned as it had begun, those precious dreams dissolved with the last breath Abigail drew.
From a solitary perch, the Deva waited patiently as Abigail’s soul drifted towards her, intercepting her journey before traveling beyond. “Abigail Icardi…Mother to my son. You are blessed.” The Deva reached out and gently stroked the face of a soul deep in sorrow and torn from leaving her dying child below, left untouched and unknown in her dead womb. She wept in silent agony but the Angel before her smiled and wiped the tears away with lips as soft as the petals of a new rose in Spring. “He will live, Mother, sacred host who shall no longer despair… See! Look upon your body and watch as I give our boy life through death. It was…the only way. He is loved, see! Look! He is born Aasimar, Celestial, Righteous…behold, our son will live.”
As Abigail’s soul turned to view the finality of her body, she watched in wonderment as her husband, Leaf, thought already dead, had opened her womb with his sword and in his last act of life, removed a healthy, wide-eyed baby boy. Leaf’s last tear fell against his son’s cheek and as he tucked the new life into his protective arm and rolled to his back on the ground, Leaf whispered “August” into the babe’s ear.
“He is named! August, Chosen of Kharash,the Stalker
 
He is destined and prophesized to be a great protector, Mother Abigail. Let your soul be at peace and your death be celebrated in Elysium for eons. And I, Angel of Kharash, Luli, shall be his guide, this I swear an oath to you, he shall be cherished and loved, valued so long as his heart beats. We will hide his identity as protection from the Ascendency, he will come to know his heritage on his 35th birthday and I will walk beside him, hidden until then."

Early Childhood
Throughout the next fifteen years of August’s life, the world was a quiet and uneventful place. Raised by his Father’s brother’s second wife, August went through childhood with what one would expect of a normal human kid. Since the day of his birth, the information of his parent’s death, as well as many others within their village, hadn’t been withheld from him. His “aunt” was a kind woman, aged and humbled by life’s circumstances within the town. She worked night shifts at the only inn, a small four room bed and breakfast, that really only saw occupancy during large hunting seasons from the bigger cities North and West of them.
As August grew, he was often found haggling the stable owners for work and extra duties, just to earn a few coppers for his aunt and the other children she was fostering. Total, there had been eight orphans after the attack, all ranging from infant to ten years old, for August, these children were considered family, though nothing as formal as a brother or sister. Though, he was closest to Elinore, a female Tiefling, red and scaled with dark purple wings that had recently sprung when she had hit puberty.
Luckily, they lived in very quiet and uneventful town, where a lot of different, various races thrived and led a typically peaceful existence. By the time August was fifteen, Elinore and August were rarely seen without one another. She seemed to always know the right thing to say to him when he had doubt or questions, always encouraging him to stand up for the good of the community, practice manners and ethics that displayed the better values and beliefs a man should have. To August, she was the closest version to a mother he would ever have, and he strived to listen to her guidance out of the warmth she radiated towards him.

Early Adolescence
It was an unusually hot summer the year of August’s Seventeenth birthday, the sun hung itself every morning without cover of cloud and the earth was dry from lack of rain that Spring. No one gathered in the village square for the normal week’s end celebrations, instead most retreated to the lake or creek to soak in the receding but cool water.

August couldn’t sleep the night his life tripped. He had been uneasy, tossing and turning in the small addition to the shack they lived in. With no breeze, the air held a dryness that cracked his lips and parched his throat. Leaving the home, he, like many other nights this Summer, he ventured down to the small lake to cool himself. As he arrived down to the small dock that offered a few benches for fishing, he spotted Elinore at the end of the worn wooden planks. He called for her… “Ellie! Wha…” and before finishing, Elinore’s body erupted. Her body was…shed, like a snake in the fields, bright white light escalated the entire reflection within the waters, radiant beams burst through her back where the once purple Tiefling wings had once been. “No, she lied to me “he whispered …and then screaming” YOU LIED TO ME.” The Deva turned to him, now realizing that August was there, her lavender eyes glowing in the moonless night. August turned from the Angel and instead of running back to his home, he took off through the wood, past the village and into the North with only the clothes he had went to sleep in and a heart full of rage. He had been betrayed by the only person he had ever loved, ever trusted. She’d been a mother and best friend to him his entire life… But that was all a lie.

Adult
It had been over a decade that August had been living in the outskirts North of the Aaradale mountains. He traveled as far North as his legs could carry him and then after many years making a living by hunting and then eventually finding his way to the Coast, he thrived as a bounty hunter, wrangling up the dredge that guards or city watch couldn’t seem to track. He often found himself easily bored because the profession had started to become second nature to him. It was rare that August didn’t have a lead or connection that could point him along the right path, even rarer to not find who he was looking for. He held a reputation with the city by the age of 30, that he was their go to guy for seeking out the vile and the treacherous. Most trusted him and August rarely let them down.

On nights that were colder, and they were quiet colder from Astarea, he often sat out on the shipping docks to watch the large vessels coming in and out of port. A lot of these ships seemed to carry new vermin and illegal cargo and August always had the jump on them from just paying attention to when they came in this way. But this night… it was quiet. The waves were silent, the air was thin and the warmth of his breath dissipated in vapor when he opened his mouth. Frigid… The hairs stood on his arms and the back of his neck. For some reason he thought of Elinore that night, and perhaps the toll of the years of hunting people, the solitude since he had left his homeland or maybe his soul and just finally given up hope, but he felt something inside of him finally let go. The release seemed to cast his spirit into relief and for the first time in over fifteen years, August felt free.
After leaving the docks, his outlook seemingly different then just an hour or so before, August had decided to visit one of the back-ally taverns in the Ferry Ward. The district was notorious for its rough crowd and drunk fool, a place he only went when working. His contact there, Borbo Flinton, was a decent enough guy though, and when he found himself sitting down at the bar, the red-haired dwarf regarded him with chagrin. “Not like you to be here right now, eh? Whatcha do? Kick a puppy, steal candy from a wee one? Only something so sinful coulda led ya here boy.” Borbo laughed and fondled his long gnarly beard, but August only nodded and motioned him to lean in... “I want to talk to Bishop. Either let him know I’m here or I’ll let him know I’m here.” As the bar keeper leaned closer, August grinned…” And pour me a straight scotch.” He rubbed his chin in consideration…” Actually, just give me the bottle.”
The Dwarf, taken back, looked August over with new sincerity, reached behind the counter and produced an unopened bottle of his best scotch. He nodded after giving him the bottle and walked to one of the thugs at the end of the bar to quietly relay the message that August had requested. It wasn’t more then a few minutes when the thug had left and returned, waving the bounty hunter to follow him.
They found the last office in the back, where Bishop Mallo worked out of. August and Bishop had one agreement and one only. August would never come for him and Bishop would stay out of August’s way when rounding up the people he needed to, even if those people happened to be employed by Bishop.
When August came through the door, he met Bishop at his desk. An older man, origins unknown, always dressed in a full cover over his face. Sometimes it was just black, other times it had a skull or horns, something sinister or the like that August didn’t feel comfortable asking about. No one knew where Bishop came from, hell, there weren’t many that even knew of Bishop period. But there was very little that escaped August in this city… he just hadn’t had any need of the guy until now.
“Bishop… “He nodded his head in approval of being led in and spoke to the thug… “You can go buddy… You’re not needed here”.
The Thug, looking towards his employer a bit confused, asked silently for approval with a worried look between the two rivals.
“Yes... go Luka, we’ll be fine. August… what can we do for you, I’d say it’s nice to see you, but that’s a bit early to say isn’t it?”
“Lets just get to business, skip all the formalities. Neither one of us are good at them anyhow.” He cracked his knuckles a bit with a cant of his eyebrow.
“Ah… then, be blunt Mr. Icardi,” Bishop grinned with reply.
August took a deep breath… “I know who you are and where you’re from… I haven’t spent this amount of time just taking in the filth of your enterprise here, I’ve been busy Bishop. You’re a disciple of Malar, the Lycanthropes arch priest. Don’t think to say otherwise, I’ve been tracking you for five years to this day and .." August stepped just inches before Bishop,his breath leaving a trace of scotch behind each word...".I'm here to make a deal. “





Personality and Appearance: August has a hard time forgiving someone once they do him wrong. (My Favor, once lost, is lost forever). He's been burned pretty bad by the one person he had trusted from infancy. Still not finding resolve with that issue, the grudge he bears tends to spread to any other wrong doing done against him. He can be very bitter at times, but his upbringing and lifestyle instilled quite a lot of humbleness in his heart. He teeter totters between a chip on his shoulder from his past and righteous anger from his heritage. As a Fallen Aasimar, he fell out of favor, well, he left his angelic guide, due to the perspective from his youth.Until his 35th Birthday *See RP Sample* He didn't know he was Aasimar, *See Background* He became a Blood Hunter naturally through time from the various choices and decisions he's had to make tracking vile and filth from his background profession as a Bounty Hunter.
(I can stare down a hellhound without flinching.) August is hard to scare, he's not easily rattled by any physical being. Having three and a half decades behind him in hunting various creatures, people and oddities, to say the least, he's almost unshakable. That being said, emotions plague him. Terrified of real connections with anyone, August has learned defensive mechanisms to keep those that would seek to truly know him, at a distance.
August stands 5'11, with dirty blond hair that he keeps short on the sides and just long enough on the top to either slick back or spike up. He has a lean but muscular build, tawny bronzed skin tones which is mostly covered by an enormous amount of tattoos, only his face, palms and the bottom of his feet are untouched by ink. He wears four rings on both hands, mostly white gold or platinum metals. August's ears are pierced several times and his lobes are stretched with onyx polished round stones. He sports mostly black and grey apparel, a black fur-lined winter coat with a hood that obscures most of his face when needed and boots that cover to his shins, laced tightly between loops and buttons that probably take ten minutes to remove. His legs, arms, chest and shoulders have an ample amount of soft blond hair and more often then not, he wears a full goatee and long side burns that are trimmed neat against his face.


More of the Fun StuffRP Sample with Drovakni Shardborne @gravitywolf (If anyone is reading this, Im not sure how to MENTION someone on this forum, please point me in the right direction.LoL. )

It was the day before his 35th Birthday, and August found himself traveling yet further North. After leaving Bishop and creating their pact, he had parted ways with the city in search for better opportunities. He was a Blood Hunter, true and tried, through and through…this was his calling, his very nature and right now it was consuming him. Ultra-focused on the next target, he had new vigor running in his veins and made good time when he reached the coastal village in Tramyul. This was where he met the Minotaur.
After arriving in the village extension, he made his way, as usual for whatever sentimental reason, to the docks. August was hungry, thirsty and needed a quiet place to keep for the night. He’d been in the wilderness for over a week now and the need to bathe and comfortably sleep was beginning to take control over most of his thoughts.

As night set and the lodging secured, he learned that he’d be sharing it with other guests. Or else there was plenty of room in the stable yard if he felt that the arrangements weren’t to his liking. Heh… Great. No matter, all he wanted to do was sleep anyhow. Unlocking the door, he found that he wasn’t the first to take occupancy… Before him, a large … very large, dark colored Minotaur, slept in one of the divisions within the room. He was a bit surprised, though not because there was a Minotaur, but because he could fit on that little tiny cot the Inn Keeper called a double bed. Instantly he laughed aloud and broke the slumber of the other guest.

“Hey there…” August chuckled through his words while the Mino reacted to his entrance. Poor guy, he had been out like a light.
“I, uh, heard you sleep talking, I don’t know if you’re building a bomb or crafting a new drink, but it sounds interesting…I…” And before managing to finish his sentence August stumbled backwards, his breath catching and unable to escape his lungs. His vision clouded and his eyes grew black where once emerald had sparkled. His hand clutched his chest,knees buckling as he hit the floor and two blackened bone wings erupted from his spine, torn leather draped loosely from the bone and black energy crackled in the air around them. In mostly shock, August yelled for help, and withered to the floor in utter fright.
With the help of the Minotaur that August later came to know as Drovakni Shardborne, and then with time merely called him Drova, he had overcome the single most terrifying experience in his life. At least that he could remember. Drova had not only guided him through the transformation but also filled in some valuable information about a race that he was surely apart of, the Aasimar. He swore to keep his linage a secret, knowing how the Ascendency would surely come for him, and since that night, August and Drovakni had traveled onward together, thus ending up in Dawnport in the Weeping Maiden.

Speaking of which... Where was he? They were about to get a ship!




Crew Member: Lacey Vost (Tabaxi Female Bard- Musician (Violinist, Singer, Flutist)- Lacey had been a victim of an illness back in a Northern city of the Zara Highlands that August had been working as a Bounty Hunter in. He had found her on the brink of death's doorstep, homeless and alone in one of the more nefarious districts in the city. In the height of Winter, here...this fragile woman,was left for dead. With a moment of bitter rage and audacity over-coming him, August had cared for her until she was healthy again. And though the illness had took her ability to see, he had found that she had one of the most amazing abilities he'd ever seen...or rather heard, before. Lacey not only sang in the most melodic and sweetest sound there ever was, but could also play the Violin as well as the flute. He set her to work at a reputable Tavern and Inn, employed as their musician. There was many a night where August would go there and ask her to play for him or sing, while he lost himself into a sea of calmness, a place he could escape to, to clear his mind and cast off the day's focus. He couldn't imagine not having her songs anymore and though she only knew him as the person who helped her, the person that barely spoke to her, the man who paid her room and board for merely singing or playing, Lacey grew to trust him in the most simplest of ways, and to be healthy and in the care of someone that saw to her well being, she agreed to accompany him as a crew mate when he had asked if she would come.


Last edited by MeredithS; 12-04-2018 at 12:18 AM.
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Old 12-01-2018, 06:25 PM
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Throwing my hat in the ring. Will try to have a character up by Sunday
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Old 12-02-2018, 04:34 PM
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Basic informationName: Duegen Gilgamal

Race: Mountain Dwarf

Class: Cleric (deity Marthammor Duin)

Background: Anthropologist

Alignment: Lawful Neutral


Personality & AppearncePersonality: Duegen is the kind of dwarf to play drinking games until the suns ready to rise and pay for the bar just cause they stayed up with him. A kind hearted, if not gruff sort, he takes offense only when his family and friends are the ones being offended. Much will roll off his own back without jostling the stout bugger. Though there is one thing. . .

Duegen values one thing more than friendships; his privacy. Seeing his personal business as just that means only the closest to him really learn what might be happening behind his jolly exterior. Not that it’s bad, it’s just personal. And to butt in when it’s not appreciated is considered highly offensive and unnecessary.

Appearance: Duegen stands four foot four and is about as wide at the shoulders and around the belly. His long red beard could easily be tucked into his belt and his hair is shaved on the sides, braided down the middle just to his neck. He is most commonly seen wearing light blue robes hiding his chainmail.

As a mountain dwarf Duegen is rather light, though still tanned compared to a human and closer to charred in the eyes of an elf. Duegens forearms bare his gods sigil, a mace upright before a fur trimmed boot. These tattoos follow chains that link up from his arms, across his shoulders and parallel to his hair, finally connecting at his temple.

History, RP & Crew
History: Duegen comes from a long line of keepers to the temple of his homeland. His lineage is something of prophets to his tribe, and it is customary for the men to embark on a long departure of faith in order to grow close enough to Marthammor Duin to speak for the deity himself.

This departure, known in his citadel as the “Riril Berdan” takes place early in the dwarfs life, around seventy years of age, and lasts until the dwarf feels the call of Marthammor Duin to return to his homeland. Duegens family had been doing this for centuries, his great great great grandfather being the first called of his name.

Duegen had been on his Riril Berdan for twenty-five years when he encountered his now traveling companions. Drunken out of his mind against some Dragonborn bard in an attempted bet to make the creature stop singing, they had found him and tossed him into the street for the barkeeps peace of mind. He stumbled through the night, finding a place to rest in a crate of hay on the back of a cart.

He awoke the next day to the sound of laughter and turning wheels. Juding by the height of the sun he had slept well past midday and was near no civilization beyond those leading the horses. He prayed for guidance before stepping out to introduce himself. Instanly recognized as the drunken bard bashing dwarf from last night, he turned the surprised anger of the group into a laughter that let him stay on to the next city. By the time they arrived he had no intention of leaving this group and they had no intention of giving him up.

RP Sample:
Duegen sat up late into the night. These friends, no far too close for the six months he had spent with them. His mates (the best he could manage in such a short time) had accepted him on such short notice, and in such bad meeting terms. He had been seeking guidance as to when his travels should end. His father only took ten years before he returned. His grandfather came back from his in thirteen years with news from his god. But Duegen was worried he would take after his great grandfather, who left two years later than intended and never returned.

August sat next to the dwarf so silently it took a few minutes before he even noticed. “MODRIN’S AXE YE!... ye canno sneak up on someone like that.” August was clearly taken back by the dwarfs bellowing cry of surprise. “I am sorry I did’nt meant to offend. I only wondered why you were up at the witching hour staring into the sky. Seems strange as this is when the rest of us typically sleep.”

Duegen knew of all the group August trusted him least. And why should he? Duegen trusted none of them any more than a goblins axe against a hill giant. And what right did August have to question where Duegens mind wandered? “I don’t think that concerns you anymore than you sleeping concerns me.”

Augusts breath grew sharp and Duegen knew he had offended the young man. He began to wonder what August was doing up so late. But at this point both had offended the other enough to take the warmth out of the air. After twenty or so minutes Duegen offered his flask he had been sipping from to August. And they drank in silence together as the night sky broke into a cresting sunrise.

Crew Member:

Argus Vun earned his promise of ships cook easily enough through Duegen. When the halfling brought Duegens plate of ham and eggs to the table and refused him a brew of coffee mixed with whiskey on account of it rendering the Dwarf useless for the day. This began a drinking game between the two showing who could hold there own until two in the afternoon. Duegan won and was rewarded with another plate of food on the house that was so delicious he practically begged the halfling to come cook aboard this new ship he and his friends were looking to purchase.
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Last edited by Wyrom; 12-07-2018 at 02:49 PM.
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Old 12-02-2018, 04:44 PM
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=D One Bourbon, One Scotch and One Beer.... I liked the RP sample, He probably would of pretty much done what you described.=)

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Old 12-02-2018, 06:06 PM
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Flynn's application is finished. Hopefully I didn't slaughter Tinuviel's character too much in the RP section!
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Old 12-02-2018, 06:41 PM
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Dagoo
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Name: Dagoo "Stubb" Tashtego, nicknamed by one of his companions because he is anything but stubby, it stuck.
Race: Variant Human
Class: Barbarian
Background: Criminal.
Alignment: Neutral, geared toward survival.

Personality: Today, we might call it clinical paranoia as a result of childhood trauma. He sees everyone as a potential threat, even his closest companions. Fortunately, he is also highly intelligent and understands that his chance of survival is appreciably greater with companions. His presence in the adventuring group is based on his calculation that their company gives him a stronger chance of survival than continuing in his former life. While he doesn't talk much, he does carry on a strong interior monologue, talking to his totems (bear, wolf, eagle). He tends to be cautious about new ventures; he was not in favor of buying the ship or going to sea but still feels that being in the group at sea gives him more opportunities to survive than staying in this city without someone watching his back. But, now he need to learn to swim.

Appearance: Extremely tall, with long arms and legs, Dagoo trains intensely on strength to provide him with a muscular, powerful build. Scarred, both from weapons and from burning off his arena brand, he has collected a collection of tattoos to cover the identifying marks. Oddly enough, for a city boy with no interest in gardening, the tattoos tend to be of flowers and plants.


History: Son of slaves, he was sold before puberty to the fighting arenas where men fought to their death, however long that took. Trained in polearms to take advantage of his size and strength, he learned quickly and fought well, but eventually he too would have died. That is just how things were. But instead, he waited and when the moment was right, he killed his trainer and escaped to the streets, living as an enforcer and sell-sword. To disguise himself, he had his face and upper body heavily tattooed to cover the distinctive pattern of scars that might have identified him.


RP Sample: Duegen wandered out of the bar late, very late. Typical waterfront tavern, typical night, typical heavy drinking. Dagoo watched from the shadows as the bearded cleric stumbled toward their lodgings. Information was the key to survival. He had to depend on this group of companions with his life on the line and while none had let him down in the time they had traveled, you never knew what people were actually thinking, you could only assess probabilities based on experience and knowledge. And knowledge was hard to find.

The dwarf didn't know it but there were others lurking in the shadows here and a drunken lush was a likely target. Sure enough, two moved into the street to cut him off, two moved in behind, two others stayed in darkened doorways. "Hello Dwarf. It looks like it's not your night," one of those facing the dwarf smirked. Time seemed to slow.

Dagoo opened his senses to Eagle. 6 targets, two doorways too dark to be sure if there was a 7th. 5 of the 7 within a single movement. Escape possible down the streets forward or backward, possibly climbable window and vines on near side. Eagle was on his side tonight, he had seen them gather and set their ambush, normally the darkness of the false dawn would be a significant disadvantage. He would set fresh entrails before Eagle in the morning. Bear. Light weapons, daggers and shortswords, one crossbow. Two seemed likely to attempt backstab. Highest threat potential, the crossbow, as others seemed likely to provide distraction giving him advantage from a shot in the back. Wolf. One of those behind the dwarf was within reach, no armor, pre-teen so unlikely to delay him much. Second thinks self hidden but still within reach, could butt strike backward and bring him into melee. Voices had been full of bravado, a mask for fear. Setup had been careless. They could be intimidated into fleeing.

Dagoo stepped into a brutal strike on the young . . . girl it seemed . . . in front of him, slicing her back open and knocking her too the ground. "Duegan, font, door right," He then continued his strike thrusting back with the butt of the pike, smashing into her crouching companion. Within moments, three of the attackers were dead, three fled. Dagoo turned to go.

"Ay, ya tattooed menace, what in blazes was that? They were kids!" Duergen seemed upset. Dagoo had just saved his life, and yet he was complaining. Looking around quickly, Eagle confirmed that Duegen was alone, only lightly injured. No companions within sensory range; no one had come to investigate. The attackers had moved off quickly and were unlikely to return. Dagoo noted to Bear that while Duegen had a drawn weapon, the bigger threat was likely spells remaining and Dagoo was out of rage and vulnerable. Wolf chimed in that Duegen was lightly injured but he was a dwarf, tough and wearing armor. The alcohol had worn off, hard target. Dagoo could take him if no outside factors entered the equation but it would be a difficult fight and take more time than this shoddy ambush had. Talking was indicated.

"You were attacked. Companion. Save life." The dwarf sputtered a bit but it wore down. Threat remote. Time sped up again. The dwarf was still talking and offered him a flask. Dagoo sniffed it. It seems to be alcohol, Eagle. Alcohol is counter productive, Dagoo'd never seen the point of drinking so he poured a bit on the gash he had taken in his thigh and handed it back. The dwarf sputtered a bit more about wasting good alcohol but it was just noise, not a threat. To ensure that they returned safely, Dagoo accompanied the dwarf back to their lodgings. He wasn't sure what he'd learned but the cost was small and now the dwarf owed him a life. That was to the good.

Crew Member: Jannvegg is a Bosun's mate and something of a bully to the crew. Powerfully built and standing six foot tall, he had always commanded respect with a combination of physical intimidation and strong instincts focused on his own interests. In Dagoo, he sensed something that worried him. Not just the size, though it is hard to loom over and intimidate someone standing 8 inches taller and weighing almost a stone more. But rather that the harpooner was always measuring him, watching and waiting for a moment of vulnerability. He didn't want to fight the barbarian, the giant carried a pike like it was part of his body. However, he didn't feel save as long as the harpooner was aboard. So, he watched and waiting; his moment would come.

Last edited by penbeast0; 12-02-2018 at 07:02 PM.
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  #73  
Old 12-02-2018, 06:56 PM
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Tinuviel Tinuviel is online now
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Pseudonymous View Post
Flynn's application is finished. Hopefully I didn't slaughter Tinuviel's character too much in the RP section!
It was a very nice read, Pseudo! I hope we both get picked!
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  #74  
Old 12-02-2018, 10:22 PM
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I do have a quick question. There was mention of a starting GP of 50 as well as an uncommon magic item. Is there a specific list you'd like us to use when picking that out?
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Old 12-03-2018, 05:34 AM
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Sorry this is late, had company show up unexpectedly over the weekend. I should have his RP Sample and Crew Memeber up soon. Let me know if there's anything objectionable here.

A Reluctant VisionaryName: Simon Fell (‘Fell’ is a common surname branded onto exiles in his village)
Race: Human (Variant), native to the Intheyrian region, ostensibly a Freeman of Zara
Class: Wizard, Divination Tradition
Background: Sage/Hermit
Alignment: Neutral

History:
Born to a pair of very practical and very unsentimental farmers in a remote settlement on the Inthyrian Plains, any joy that that might have come from Simon’s birth turned to resentment and vexation as the boy, who was supposed to be growing into a strong, stout, healthy successor to the farm, was instead often wracked with illness and strange fever dreams.

Things only seemed to degenerate further as the boy’s dreams seeming began to come true...

One after another, from crop blight, to an early winter, to the deaths of several livestock from a mysterious illness, each was preceded by restless nights and feverish dreams that predicted each disaster in minute detail weeks, sometimes even months before before they struck. His mother and father, and indeed, the entire settlement grew fearful, beginning to see the boy as a herald of doom...or worse, the cause of it.

It was on the eve of his fifteenth birthday that Simon was exiled and disowned from his village and his home. The sole, final kindness granted him by his mother and father before he departed was a rough map, with a mark identifying the abode of a hermit not far from the village. A so-called ‘witch’ who was rumored to be able to foretell the future as he did; in actuality she was a scholar and a student of magic.

She would be the first of many such scholars Simon would turn to on what would eventually prove to a very long journey to understand his mysterious visions.

...A journey that would prove frustrating to most. While the practice of magic is not explicitly outlawed by the Freemen cities, it is still viewed with some measure of disdain; often seen as the province of pompous academics with little use compared to strength of arms or skill with a more practical craft. Any gatherings of practitioners tended to be on the small side, with maybe a handful of peers at most working together in the larger cities.

More often, however, magic in Zara and it's surrounding territories was practiced in the singular; an isolated wisewoman, a mysterious recluse, or maybe a village elder. Simon would track down one after the other, asking their services in exchange for his own servitude. And one after the other they would poke, prod, and test him. In return he would work for them them, at first performing mere menial labor, but later assisting in transcribing, archiving, and translations...and soon enough genuine spellcraft as Simon proved himself to have a keen mind with a knack for magic.

Despite how his skills in the arcane arts grew, however, Simon was no closer to the answers he sought no matter where he turned. It was only in one of the larger conclaves (relatively speaking) found in the major cities that he discovered what looked to be a spark of hope; an archived journal detailing a traveler’s journey through Valyria, fabled home of the elves and, more importantly, one of the most magically adept societies in the known world.

If any solution existed for his condition, it would be found there.

But Valyria was a faraway place. Indeed, it might as well be in another world as far as Simon’s current situation was concerned.

Nevertheless, he kept his resolve. Scrabbling together what little he had, he sought to purchase a spot on a merchant’s caravan departing the Freemen territories in a week’s time.

As he would often tell himself in times of trouble; one step in front of the other, come what may.

Personality:
Outwardly Simon appears to be a calm, if fatalistic young man. Whether dealing with good fortune or bad, facing certain triumph or looming calamity, very little seems to ruffle the man’s calm, and he seems to react to everything with a sort of resigned, peaceful acceptance.

This selfsame calmness, however, can make dealing with him a...frustrating experience. It can be difficult to gauge his true intentions and feelings, and more often than not it leaves others, even his shipmates and fellow adventurers, with the impression that they’re being kept at arm’s length.

Inwardly, however, he is a man overwrought with questions about the dreams that have haunted him since childhood and curiosity about a world he had been sequestered from for much of his life. ...But even above that, deep within Simon holds a quiet wish to command his own fate, and be free of the dreams that have haunted him for most of his life.

Appearance:
Scrawny and short, with limbs a bit too long for his frame and a sickly-pale complexion only recently (albeit sightly) improved by a hint of color brought on by his travels, a childhood of frequent illnesses and restless nights has left Simon a runt, a far cry from the stereotypical image of a hardy, rough-and-ready Freeman. Straw-like hair rather resembling the leaked stuffings of a scarecrow frames a long, rawboned face and a pair of pale, washed-out blue eyes.

His rather odd appearance is often compounded by his clothing. Finding a quality travelling outfit that fits is something of a rare blessing for Simon due to his rather diminished physique. More often than not, he's had to make do with garments that are a bit too large for him.

RP Sample:
The cabin was silent, save for the creak of wood and the listing of the Skipper among the waves. Illuminated by candle light, a pallid-looking man with straw-like hair and ensconced in too-large travelling clothes was quietly scratching the day’s findings into a weathered and dog-eared journal. It was a practice he had only recently taken up, having found that it helped to clarify his auguries.

Simon had only joined their crew a few days prior, having requested passage in exchange for putting his knowledge and his skills at their disposal. There were...rumblings among some of the crew about taking the strange man. Nevertheless they agreed...eventually.

The seer didn’t so much as flinch as the imposing shadow of the tattooed warrior fell upon his table. Dagoo Tashtego (‘Stubb’ to his fellow crewmates), an escaped slave and former gladiator...and now fugitive and adventurer...loomed over Simon’s work. The barbarian’s impassive countenance, almost as unreadable as Simon himself, belied a sharp, perceptive mind. And within that selfsame min a heated debate was currently roiling.

The so-called diviner was an unknown. An outsider to the world that was their ship. Such things tended to leave the barbarian unbalanced and on edge. And as arguments, possibilities, and viewpoints churned in his head, they began taking on the personas of his totems...

Eagle, all lofty pride and lonely paranoia, argued that the frail man was a liability. A sickly thing on which their finite resources would be wasted. Besides...what if he used his magic to read their thoughts? To steal their secrets? What if the seer betrayed them all? Better to cut him loose and abandon him at the next shore. ...Or even dispose of him in secret.

Wolf, faithful pack hunter, argued against such skullduggery. The diviner had done nothing to earn their ire, and should at least be given the chance prove himself, if nothing else.

Bear, wise and enduring, pointed out that there were different kinds of strength and this Simon, despite his physical failings, had clearly survived for a long time on his own. Perhaps whatever kept him going could be turned towards the party’s benefit.

Dagoo’s internal debate was suddenly interrupted as he noticed that the man was looking up at him expectantly. Waiting...

Waiting on his judgement? Did he know…? For a moment Dagoo’s stony expression came very close to slipping.

But no. The warrior, despite his wild appearance, was no superstitious fool. That kind of magic required extensive preparation. No words of power had been spoken, no arcane gestures had been made. There was no way the other could have known...

And so, without a word of explanation beyond a simple grunt of acknowledgement, Dagoo simply turned and strode for the cabin door.

He would act with the rest of the crew and wait. For now.

Crew Member:
Qizzak, a diminutive young gnome with a muddy-brown hair and a constantly fretful expression, was a ‘volunteer’ caravan worker that was on his way to the slave pits of Garakel before being spirited away by Simon, who had foreseen the man's lonely death in the desert and, whether out of a desire to defy fate or simple sympathy, quietly sought to intervene.

Both confused and grateful, Qizzak had few objections about being put to work on The Skipper.

For his part ‘Quiz’, as he’s come to be known by his crewmates, has adapted fast to life on the sea despite a lack of experience. Cunning hands and an ability to get into small spaces that is notable even for one of his species has made him particularly useful in making spot repairs on the ship and maintaining the rigging.

Last edited by Citizen Sam; 12-04-2018 at 02:04 AM.
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