[D&D-3.5e] Wonderland: A Ravenloft Tale

[Haelmaxan]

Game Name Wonderland: A Ravenloft Tale

Game System DnD 3.5e

Theme Reality, Identity, Sanity, Horror

Flavour A horror themed take on Adventures in Wonderland.

Plot Summary The Dark Powers have pulled Wonderland into the Domains of Dread. This once whimsical land had a dark side, but things have gotten darker for its inhabitants. The land of nonsense is once again afflicted by tyranny in the form of the Queen of Hearts and her bloody court, while on the other side of Wonderland, The Red and White Queens vie for control of their half of the country, neither of which bode well for their citizens. But the real threat to the folk of Wonderland comes from the newly risen Darklord, Alice. It is unknown if the girl grew into a young woman and returned a monster or if this is some shade or dark doppelganger that represents the worst of Alice and the villain she could be. Alice's twisted castle rises from the center of Wonderland but can't be accessed by just anyone. Three keys must first be collected: the rose key, the cake key, and the rabbit key. Each key is hidden somewhere in Wonderland and guarded by a horrific monster. To escape Wonderland, you'll need to bring peace to the twin halves of the country while collecting the three keys as you progress. Once the guardians are slain and the keys gathered, you must brave the castle of Alice and defeat whatever nightmares are found within. Should you survive the castle, you'll face Alice herself. Beat Alice, and you'll win your ticket home. Don't expect your quest to be simple. Alice sees much, and she'll not stand idly by and let you topple her domain. She'll send her minions to stop you. The closer you get, the more dangers you'll face on your journey to return home. While you'll face dangers, you'll also find potential allies to help you on your way. As many minions as she has, Alice also has enemies. Some are more powerful than they appear. Rules ^ Books: Most things except Tome of Battle and Oriental Adventures. ^ Starting Level: 7th ^ Gestalt: This game will be using the Gestalt rules. ^ Wealth: Average for 7th level characters. ^ Hit Points: Max 1st and rolled for the rest. (Don't roll in this thread.) ^ Ability Scores: We will roll. (Don't roll in this thread.) ^ Party: 5 players ^ Type of Game: Follows a storyline like a module. ^ Posting Rate: I can post often, but a couple of times a week is good. ^ Closing Date: TBD ^ Alternate Rules: I'm interested in rule changes from potential players. Poison & Disease Sanity Rules Application Name Race Classes: Personality: Looks: RP Sample: About Me: Hello, I'm Haelmaxan, or Hael. I joined this site in 2007 when I was in college, the first go-round. It took a long time to figure out, but I was diagnosed with multiple mental health disorders. None are severe, but they do complicate basic aspects of life. I'm medicated, go to therapy, and try to live in a way that I'm not controlled by my mental health issues. My last stint on this site ended when I was hospitalized, but I don't think that will happen again. I'm in a better state by all metrics now. I hope to find a group to game with and that we have fun. Cheers!

[Haelmaxan]

Reserved for keeping up with applicants.

[triedtherest]

Interesting hook. Are we meant to be denizens of Wonderland, the Demiplane of Dread, or elsewhere?

[Haelmaxan]

You've been pulled into Wonderland by some nefarious force. Possibly from a place like Faerun.

[triedtherest]

Application Name: Cyrus Crow Race: Human Classes: Dread Necromancer/Favored Soul Personality:   Cyrus’s primary motivation stems from a profound desire to understand life and death, a quest ignited by the early loss of his family to a mysterious plague that swept through his home city of Holowfaust. He seeks knowledge not only for power but also as a means to resurrect those he loved; it is this tragic longing that drives him deeper into the realms of necromancy. However, as he finds himself transported to Ravenloft by the Mists, an enigmatic force that seems drawn to his very essence, he faces an urgent new goal: escape this cursed land before its dark magic consumes him entirely. Looks:   Cyrus Crow is a man of shadows, aged 32, with an appearance that reflects the dark arts he has embraced. His tall and lean frame is draped in flowing robes of deep indigo, embroidered with silver runes that flicker faintly when he channels his necromantic powers. His pale skin contrasts sharply with his raven-black hair, which falls to his shoulders in wild disarray. Dark circles under his piercing green eyes hint at sleepless nights spent poring over ancient tomes and communing with spirits. Cyrus carries an air of melancholy wisdom; a face marked by both beauty and sorrow, as if he bears the weight of countless souls lost to time. History and Significant Events:   Cyrus's journey began in Holowfaust, the City of Necromancers on the world of Also known as The Scarred Lands after a great war between the Gods and the Titans forever marred the planets surface over a century and a half ago.Scarn, where he was once regarded as a prodigy among scholars. His first significant triumph came when he successfully summoned a spirit for guidance on matters pertaining to death, a feat many deemed impossible for one so young. However, this moment was marred by tragedy when the spirit revealed truths about Cyrus’s family that shattered him: they had not succumbed merely to illness but had been sacrificed by a renegade group of Necromancers called the Glivid-Autel, in a dark ritual aimed at gaining power. This revelation fuelled both his ambition and obsession with necromancy. Yet each success brought unforeseen consequences; every soul he sought to manipulate or commune with left scars upon his own psyche, echoes of their pain whispering through him like ghosts refusing peace. When the Mists enveloped him during one fateful night while practising eldritch rites in one of the many ritual chambers beneath the city's streets, Cyrus felt an exhilarating surge of energy coursing through him upon entering Ravenloft, a land steeped in dread where death holds dominion far beyond mere mortals' grasp. It amplified his abilities immensely; however, it also tainted them, the corruption gnawing at his soul became palpable after each use of magic. RP Sample:   The Mists had finally receded enough for Cyrus to see again, and what he could see both surprised and shocked him. Moments before, he had been in the Undercroft of Hollowfaust, now he was... "Outside?" He murmured. "How? And I seem to be in a small village..." "Well, the REMAINS of one" Croaked a tired voice. Cyrus spun around to see an old man wearing the rags of what once must have been a fine outfit belonging to a gentleman of means, but now were barely fit enough for a beggar. "Welcome to Dunwich...or what's left of it at any rate. Ghouls have turned or eaten everyone in town!" Despite (or perhaps BECAUSE of) the fact he was a Necromancer, Cyrus deeply mistrusted free-willed Undead, as to him and his fellow Hollowfaustians, Undead were a resource not people in their own right, and they had no business having thoughts of their own. Even if that thought was: "How are THESE people going to taste?" "I cannot abide Ghouls!" Cyrus said with feeling, then seeing one lurch out of the shadow of a ruined building towards the old man, he quickly prepared to cast a spell to take over the creature's mind. That's when things REALLY started to go wrong for Cyrus! The magic felt wrong, tainted in some way. The Dark Powers that ruled this world, the ones whose dark designs had drawn him there, had amplified Necromancy but had done so at a price. Repeated use would corrupt the user in both body and soul, eventually turning them into a Monster, at which point the Demiplane of Dread would claim them forever! While he had no way of knowing that last part, he could still feel the cloying Evil that his power now possessed, causing him to stumble over the words of a spell that should have been routine for him. This gave the foul Ghoul the opportunity to tear into the old mans neck with it's teeth. Feeling despair over being unable to save someone from what should have been a trivial foe, Cyrus gave the dying man one last apologetic look before fleeing into the Mist-shrouded darkness. A Necromancer who was suddenly afraid of the Dark!

 

[Yas392]

Interested. Acceptable Alignments? Are we using sanity rules?

[Haelmaxan]

Any alignment is fine. Sanity is more important, I think.

I like the sanity mechanic. It fits.

[triedtherest]

If it's Ravenloft, I take it that you'll be using Powers Checks for Corruption?

I made my application with this in mind, Cyrus is powerful here, but at a terrible cost, so he must escape before he is forever claimed by the Dark Powers!

[Seekr34]

Name: Beltan Rendark
Race: Stonechild
Classes: Stonechild/Fighter
Personality: Living with the dwarves, Beltran appreciated nature, being one with the dirt and stone. He gets along with most races, although sharing the appreciation for nature, the elves prefer trees over stone and seems too flighty. After he became grown and mature, he decided to wander the lands, becoming an adventurer. Easy going, people around him pin him to be a gentle giant, but they think twice when watching him in battle. Makes them doubly glad that he is on their side.

Looks: 7 feet tall, looks to be 300 pounds with a stony bulk. His skin rough, color of gray. He looks like a powerful human made out of stone. He has no hair, his head completely bald and his eyes are shades of gray. His tough hide resembles stone.

RP Sample: (from different game) Four men were sitting in a room in the Thieves Guild, discussing a certain individual and what to do about him.

“He killed Ty, he knew he worked for us, I don’t know how, but he did.” The first man spoke.

“Damn right he does, he is not going to forget us, it be only a matter of time before he decides to come after us.” The second man chimed in.

“Hah, let him, he’s only one man.” The Third man exclaimed.

“Don’t be a fool, have you heard about him? His reputation? He’s grown in skill, he’s become a dangerous man. I sent some assassins after him months ago and never heard back of any updates except from the Assassin Guild, who themselves haven’t heard back and assumes they are now dead.” The second man replied, looking at the third man like he was an idiot.

"Well, it was a bloody mess, but at least half-drow is dead and we gotten rid that human vampire. He'll never come here. Never liked those two, creepy. We still have to deal with the drows, but we'll get through it." the fourth man spoke up.

The 2nd man nodded. "Aye, they still only come up at night, both Guilds has men at watch, so they won't try anything. Not sure why we have to deal with them in the first place, they can't be trusted, worse that the half-drow bastard."

Another man had entered the room during the conversation. "Wouldn't worry about the drows, they're leaving. For good too I think."

The others turned to him with shocked look on their faces. The first man spoke. "Seriously? What happened? Drows don't back down from nothing. So what got them to leave?"

The newcomer let out a deep sigh. "That brings us to another problem. Vampires. Two of the drows are dead, one claimed it was from a ripper."

The 2nd man looked confused. "What's a ripper?"

"A ripper is a vampire that can't control himself, goes into a frenzy. Worse type of vampire."

The others two just stared at him. "Bloody hells, you think that Jett brought his vampire friends? I thought we got rid of him for good.”

"I don't know, where Harrel and Kory? They should have been here by now." The fourth man spoke, agitated.

Then a knock came at the door, the first man got up and went to the door. "Finally, maybe it’s them. Who is it?"

"A message!"

Bit steamed, figuring the other two wasn't going to make the meeting, he opened the door. "What's the message?" His eyes then went wide when he saw the messenger. "J-J-Jett!!"

Jett stood there with a cold dead smile. "Message is, it’s your turn to die." he said with a calm even but gravel voice.

The others quickly stood up as they heard a sound of a blade swoosh and their friend's head flew at them. They screamed out as Jett dove after them. There was a ruckus that sounded like a tornado was inside the room. Then a sound of a window breaking. A few minutes later, the door burst open and the other guild members entered the room to find the men, dead and decapitated and a breeze was coming in from the broken window...

[Cardassian]

Dropping Out

[Haelmaxan]

Yes, corruption will be a possible issue to deal with.

[Hoppitty]

*Withdrawn*

[Admin Dirk]

3.5.... not many chances to play this anymore...

Name Natisse (Nat/Gnat) Cornigrum
Race: Grey elf
Classes: Beguiler//warlock (probably)

 

Natisse (Nat, Nattie or Gnat) stands barely 5 foot tall. With long light brown hair framing a thin, sharp face, she looks like a slightly healthier version of any of a dozen street urchins, perhaps a bit more exotic for her elven features. A light scattering of freckles bridge her nose and upper cheeks, very faded now that she is past the blush of her childhood. Thin and lithe, a result of her life on the streets for much of her youth, she has finally gained some extra mass, filling out into more womanly hips and chest. Nat is plain, and in general, rather unremarkable at first, even second, glance (a fact she uses well, to blend in and assume roles). Forgettable, average, and mousy are the terms most often used to describe her, when she is herself. However, when she needs to assume another personna, she can add some make-up, and be anything but forgettable. Wench, vixen, exotic; all are used, depending on the need. She dyes her platinum hair brownish, letting the white show through as greying streaks. The only thing she does not hide, typically, are her violet eyes.

 

Nat is a street child: wise, wary, and trusting of no one, typically quiet and patient. She thinks of herself first, and then her small circle of friends second. Nat is quick witted, and sharp. She laughs easily, and thinks fast on her feetm and is slow to anger, as anger tends to cause mistakes, and mistakes lead one to being hurt. And Gnat doesn't like being hurt. Many people consider her their friend, however, she considers very few people trustworthy enough to know her secrets. She is studious, a quick study, and has picked up a variety of skills during her hard life, not all of them legal. She has no qualms about separating fools from their money, or supplementing her income with the hard work of others. She refuses common thuggery, instead believing that money willingly parted with is acceptable, even if the reasons behind the parting are less than honest. She does not tolerate physicality, bullying, armed robbery, or other "common" thuggery.

Mostly, however, she is a charmer, either by force of her own personality, or by use of her magic, but that is a shallow, hollow mask. She has never met a con she doesn't like, or hasn't tried, except those that would put her in harm's way. She thinks in terms of personal gain, and her own safety, before all others. She lived a life on the streets, and has dedicated herself now to making sure she never has to go back. To her, that means money, magic, and power, and the route to those three goals always lies through other people, people not smart enough to see her coming.

 

Another shriek pierced the air, adding to the cacaphony of the ghouls scraping talons into the wall of ice Lyss had built in the hallway. The noise pierced her ears, driving into her brain, making her wince in agony. It hurt, like someone had hit her with a board on the back of her neck... not hard, but hard enough to hurt.

Her ice wall fell, and ghouls poured through. Cold, frost rimed, covered with ice, the sight actually brought a tiny smile to the small Gith's countenance. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she was home. She was not one to ever be homesick, but the sight of everything in front of her covered with ice and white frost was almost calming.

"Deal with your foes," she shouted. "They shall not come from the north." She pulled from her inner core, and released the power of the storm at the first ghouls, sending a cone of blinding snow, with hard balls of magical ice, at them. With no where to go, and no solid footing to use to dodge well, they were simply struck, hard, by the assault. Being near mindless with hunger and their insatiable drive, they carried forward, but Lyss pelted them again, and again. Even as they clawed at her armor, she hit them again, driving the final one into the ground under a mound of snowballs.

She smiled, and cast another wall of ice in the hall. Another few ghouls popped out from the epicenter of her magic, and she pelted them with magical cold and ice, until they too dropped.

For Lyss, this was her moment. Her skin turned blue, then nearly white. Rimes of frost and ice hung from her clothing, coating her with a second layer of white snow. Her eyes nearly glowed a pale white light, it seemed, and snowflakes danced in the air around her, whipping around in a frenzy as it followed her movements. Her hair, a long white braid, whipped about on its own, stirring the air around it as it danced and writhed, occasionally striking a ghoul like a whip.

Nothing would pass her in the hall. She took a moment to breathe, and when the second wall came down, she cast another, further back, then pelted every ghoul in the area with ice and rock hard bullets of super cold ice. They slowed, fewer and fewer came though, because the footing was treacherous, and the area as absolutely frigid, painful to the touch. Just crossing the boundaries of the old, broken walls caused damage, and the effects of the sleet storm and her command of the winter chill hindered them every which way.

In a matter of a minute, a pile of frozen ghouls lay around her, covered with ice, snow and ghoul splatter, where they had exploded in her frenzy of unnatural cold.

Lyss smiled.

ooc Damage Taken: None Ghouls Killed: 6 Ghouls Surviving to attack the next player: 0 Damage Dealt to Glitch from surviving ghouls: o Additional Ghouls for the next player (+2 per surviving ghoul):0

 

Kari shakes her head savagely. She points her staff to the sudden wall that materialized, and a half dozen spells run through her mind that would wreak havoc on the gnome's little fortress. Her hands shake with the anger inside, trembling to control it. She shrugs off the voices around her, Jyd and the naked girl both speaking words that made no sense to her. Yes, she understood them well enough, the words themselves, but in her anger, the meaning was lost. She saw Jyd step between her and the wall of stone, and eyed him narrowly. With her frame and training, she was no match physically for the martialist, but in her anger, she thought about it.

She stared, eyes narrowing. Melbis's racking coughs failed to distract her, her eyes flitted over to see the little gnome on her knees, heaving. Fitting punishment for what you did, mage, she thought. That too will be remembered. It was your type that did this, your kind who toss powers around like leaves in the fall, scatter-brained children with powers beyond your ken. You are all to blame for his death, with your stupidity and reckless knowledge of so very little. You have no concept of the games you play with, yet you throw the lives of everyone around you away at your whim.

Her jaw set so hard, blood trickled from the portion of her lip she had between her teeth. The pain did not affect her, but it showed well on her face, in her eyes, along with the internal pain of losing her companion. It was written in the lines of grief on her face.

Patience, little one. The storm grows biggest that takes longest to form. The small wooden beaded bracelet around her wrist almost seemed to glow for a moment, as if it were taking her anger from her. Kari's eyes, still black as coal, look around the turtle's back. Jyd stood tense, hands at his side, but she could see the wariness there. No telling what the girl will do. Melbis will recover, and stop me. Or try. Drake will too, probably. I cannot fight them all.

She breathed deeply, and concentrated. Cirrus was gone. Her friend, her trusted companion for years, blasted away by the idiotic gnome mage. She screamed inside herself again, bottling her rage, her anger. Not a word had come from Vyss himself, but she couldn't tell if that was because of his lack of trying, or the stone wall around him. Does it matter? Her bracelet glowed faintly once again, the wood becoming darker now, almost a walnut in color.

She watched Drake take flight, and then heard the words of some distant voice offer yet more advice. It was more than she could bear. She turned her head upward, and spoke.

To the seven hells with you and your 'advice'. The last word was almost spat out by the druid. I'll fight when I wish to fight, I will kill when it is time to kill. Ibinel granted me the wisdom, and the power, to do both as I see fit, and I need not take droplets of advice from you, or anyone.

She points her staff towards the stone wall, and then drops it to encompass Melbis as well.

You.

You had best sleep lightly under Ibinel's moons. For what you have done, there will be reckoning. Ibinel can wait a millennium for vengeance, and does. I shall not likely have Her patience.

With that, she turned, and walked away from the group, down the slope of Roshi's back, and disappeared over the curve of his shell.

[Haelmaxan]

When I started on this site, my first game as a player was 3.5. I've always had a soft spot for this edition.

[Ermine]

I'm so so tempted, but I'm sick right now, so dunno if I can get an application in before I get better.

Is Magic of Incarnum allowed? I want to be an incarnate or totemist for half my gestalt. How does that work with the corruption rules? (Probably going psychic warrior or psion for the other half).

Also, would it be fine for my character to be from Athas (the world of Dark Sun)?

Are our characters freshly pulled over or have they been here for a while and know each other?