[PF-2e] Rondo of the Stolen Moon

[Kepheren]

I'll try to figure it out tomorrow. Have always used Imgur, mostly because I'm clueless with computers and have no idea what I'm doing. :P

If I can't figure it out there will probably just find another pic online that will fit better. *doh*

[Dechado]

Hey there, posting interest!

Just one question so far. When you say 'Options: Common' Does that mean the Ancestry? :O
I enjoy playing as beast races, like Catfolk, Lizardfolk, or Kobold and the like, so wanted to ask first.
But, I have no problem picking a common Ancestry. There's Leshies too hehe

[briar]

@Kepheren: Done.

 

@Dechado: Yes, all options must be derived from Common lists, which includes ancestries.

@Kaigen:

 

@delpinator:

 

[Europa]

I think Ivy is done except for a portrait. I'd be happy to take any feedback you feel like offering!

[Soulstalk]

Okay, so here is my character.

Name: Meridus Venger (he/him)
Ancestry: Human
Class: Alchemist
Background: Scholar (Nature)



Backstory:
Meridus has been a student of the state university of Svietsylvania for almost four long years. All this time he had performed decently but never stood out as a proficient and excellent candidate. He had always performed with above-average grades but not enough to earn a recommendation or an honorable position. As his scholarship was coming to an end, it was evident that the university had its blessings but no future prospect for him. Coming from a well-to-do family of established civilians, he knew that his future required him to do something out of the blue to be distinguished enough for his family to progress through the social hierarchy. Something, he had already failed. However, there was a risky affair of enlisting himself as an adventurer. Risky, but with a probability to achieve something bigger in a small amount of time. Or to ply his trade at a more or less obscure place. Running out of options, Meridus chose his fate with worried but calculated contemplation.

He had always felt interested in studying nature and all its inhabitants. A fascination for the myriad lifeforms it held in all its glory and diversity. They also supplied strange and magical components necessary for creating volatile and dangerous concoctions. In his time at the university, Meridus had a special interest in Alchemy and it was the only subject that he was better at than all the other ones he studied. Professor Shelly had always been kind to him and ignorant of his scores. She instead kindled his knack for experimental theories and risky endeavors to question the established boundaries of past principles. Many experiments were conducted outside the compounds of the university for safety reasons, ofcourse! He was sad when she also declined the recommendation needed to become a visiting faculty. Running out of options and constantly questioning his decisions, Meridus set out to practice his trade in an obscure place near Ashrim and ended up on the doorstep of Turnabout Tavern.

Personality and Motivation:
Meridus is an optimist, but whatever life has in store for him is slowly breaking his cheerful notion. He is fun-loving and enthusiastic to meet new people; however, he is also wary of what everyone will think once they see his alchemical creations and how volatile they are. Although he graduated, he had failed to get a job and make a lasting impression. However, he is also determined to not give up. He wants to study alchemy in great detail, but that needs more money and a secured place, which without an actual job he had no way of achieving. Whatever he had learned in his time at the university would actually complement him if he ever went on an adventure. Also, if he ever found a good horde of treasure that is often rumored, he might one day buy a house and open a store, make his own laboratory, and sell his concoctions. That would be something his family would be proud of! Apart from that, he could also make new friends and hopefully get access to several monster body parts that he could use to study new forms of alchemical concoction.


Personal contact:
a) Selomer, the local glassmith, is a well-known glass blower who is respected for his expertise in the craft. Meridus met Selomer in an organized fair once and had been a customer ever since.

b) Frena is the local herbalist who had previously supplied Meridus with rare ingredients for his alchemical concoctions.


It also seems like Reeve might know Meridus or at least have heard of him.


Regarding the character stats, I am almost done with it. I am currently using Pathbuilder to make the character.

[Kepheren]

Originally Posted by briar

@Kepheren: Done.

[/SPOILERBUTTON]

Oh! Thank you for that. It's brilliant.

I've updated the application with the updated picture and some new information. Am thinking that was all the things required but if I've missed anything please let me know. He is basicly a reluctant fighter, taking up arms again to protect what is his and the good people of the community. A good soul who yearns for peace but has to use violence to protect the community he has come to love.

Any feedback is welcome of course but I think he can now be considered complete.

Thanks for everything.

[Kaigen]

@Soulstalk Meridus can join Reeve and Ivy's book club! We have coffee and snacks!*

*Coffee subject to GM approval. Consuming snacks may result in high blood pressure, heart disease, and stroke. Please consult a physician to see if snacks are right for you.

[Amarga]

Tentatively finished with Dyrch, would enjoy some feedback whenever you find time!

[briar]

Originally Posted by Kaigen

*Coffee subject to GM approval. Consuming snacks may result in high blood pressure, heart disease, and stroke. Please consult a physician to see if snacks are right for you.

Oy, don't me responsible for your character's health and wellbeing xD

@Everyone asking for feedback: Will do! Feedback will likely come tonight, as I have more time in the evenings.

[Soulstalk]

I have a question. Do I have to post a filled-up character sheet here? Or will it be addressed once the character is accepted for the game.

[briar]

Originally Posted by Soulstalk

I have a question. Do I have to post a filled-up character sheet here? Or will it be addressed once the character is accepted for the game.

You may post a sheet if you want to, but they are not required for this application process. I'll only ask for sheets from those who are chosen as players.

[briar]

@Europa:

 

@Amarga:

 

@Kepheren:

 

[wodine]

I too have long been meaning to try more PF2 and just haven’t gotten around to it. What an opportunity!
Also, feedback is always welcome. I will work on getting an image I like. Image added.

Application Name: Morag, of the Seas Ancestry: Orc Class: Cleric of Cosma, the Tidelord Background: Sailor Telling a Story: Morag, of the Seas Aye, aye. Morag settled down onto the weather-beaten stump that served as a stool outside his little place on the outskirts of town. Here in the lost recesses of Ashrim, Morag was never quite comfortable. The land was too stable, the trees too tall, and the sea – the sea was all to far away. He longed for the salt spray of his youth, but his ship was destined to go where the wind blew, and the currents and eddies had summoned him here some years ago, but for what purpose he had not yet discerned. The sea, oh the sea, what a glorious thing it is. The waves roar like dragons and the wind howls like a hungry wolf, but she also purrs like a kitten and can be as peaceful as a slumbering babe. Morag stirred the fish stew that was simmering over the fire. It wasn’t ocean fish, but the river provided well enough. Many moons ago, when both my tusks were sharp and my beard not so grey, I sailed aboard The Iron Tide, the fastest war galley ever to cut through the black waters. We were deep in the Uncharted Reefs, where no map could guide us, hunting a legend – the lost Golden Ewe, an ancient trading ship, said to have sunk with holds full of silver and gold. But the Reef was a dangerous place. They said it was home to a beast big enough to swallow ships whole, with eyes that glowed like lightning and scales as dark as the abyss. Morag smiled to himself. Oh, to be young. One night, when the moon was but a sliver in the sky, the sea turned still – too still. The air was thick, and even the most fearless corsairs aboard clenched their weapons. Then, with a crack of thunder, the ocean beneath us rose, and from its depths came a tentacled beast of nightmares! Its long rubbery tendrils coiled around the ship, its maw wide enough to swallow our mast. The smell of fish stew filled the glade. What happened next Mister Moo-rag? Morag. Morag gently corrected, again. The grizzled orc looked down at the little elf, a ring of daisies in her blond hair, her brown eyes wide and shimmering like a pair of tiger’s eye. Well we sailors don’t cower before beasts! With a roar, we leaped into battle. I grabbed the nearest harpoon and hurled it straight into the beast’s flesh! It shrieked, thrashing, sending waves crashing over the deck. The fight raged for what felt like an age. Every time it struck, we struck harder. Every time it roared, we roared louder. Pride had crept into Morag’s voice. It had been such a ferocious battle. One of the best of his life. Finally, with one last mighty blow, our captain, Alyndra – Alyndra Celeborin… Was she an elf Mister Moo-rag? The question disrupted the flow of the story, Morag had just begun building to the triumphant climax. Yes, little one, just like you. She is the fiercest and mightiest warrior I have ever known. Truly, a fine woman. I bet she has a peg-leg! She does not. … She does have an eye patch though. I knew it. Morag cleared his throat. She drove her curved blade into the monster causing the beast to fall back into the salty abyss, its massive body sinking like a fallen mountain. We cheered, though many of us bore wounds from the fight. But the sea – oh, the sea never lets a warrior go unrewarded. When dawn finally broke, we found a chest amongst some flotsam, it was old and marked with an ancient symbol, and inside was silver, silver that shimmered like storm clouds. Morag pulled out the amulet he wore around his neck. And ancient silver coin with a hole near the top, a strand of rope from The Iron Tide fastening it around his neck. And so, we sailed home, our ship battered but our spirits high. To this day, I wear my share of the treasure we earned that day. That was the day I was promoted to bos'n. Morag smiled warmly as he finished his story and spooned some fish stew into a large bowl. Now, little one, next time you’re near the river, listen closely and you’ll hear the waves whispering and you can whisper back. The sea remembers and the sea keeps secrets. The little girl blinked, her big eyes no longer looking at Morag or his silver treasure, but at the stew. Thank you for helping me get my ‘good listener’ badge, Mister Moo-rag. It was my pleasure, Maelara. Can you take this bowl of fish stew home for you and your mother? Uh-huh. Maelara shook her head in the affirmative. Okay, be careful, the stew is still very warm. Morag handed Maelara the bowl of fish stew and watched her head down the road. With an audible, yet hushed, groan he stood and slowly followed. Staying far enough back that Mae thought she was on an adventure all his own, he watched and made sure she made it back to the run-down shack she shared with her mother. The mother looked around and smiled warmly at Morag as she ushed little Maelara inside so the could share the meager meal that Morag could share. Satisfied that she was home safe, Morag turned back home to finish his dinner of fish stew – alone. Personal Contacts: Alyndra Celeborin: Captain of The Iron Tide. Her’s is a name not whispered in fear, but sung in shanties, carved into shipwrecks, and etched into the nightmares of those foolish enough to cross her. The Iron Tide was hers, a sleek, black-sailed war galley that cut through the seas like a dagger through silk. Born of noble elven blood but raised among outlaws, she was a tempest in mortal form – graceful as a dancer, ruthless as a storm. Morag hasn’t seen her in nearly two years, but his respect for her has not waned, he will always be her devoted Second Mate. Morag knew that she didn’t sail for plunder, or for glory, or even for vanity, she sailed to carve her legend into the bones of the world. Freja Brighteyes: A middle aged dwarven mother to all. The heart and hearth of every lost soul who finds their way to her doorstep this stout and sturdy matron with braids as thick as robes and eyes like warm honey, runs Brighteyes’ Haven, a home for wayward children, misfits, and the forgotten. Her hands, calloused from years of labor, were as quick to mend a torn tunic as they were to ruffle a child's hair in affection. She ruled with a firm voice and a heart full of steel-wrapped kindness. Her’s was a home of discipline and love in equal measure. No bully dared test her patience, and no child went to bed hungry under her watch. By the great forge and the sacred stone, she swore that every child under her roof would find a future, and a family even if she had to carve one out for them with her own two hands. Morag, having never settled down with a mate or family of his own, volunteered at Brighteye’s Haven where he helped tend to the children, took them fishing, and did his best to mend the building.   A Drink… or two: The Turnabout Tavern was warm, filled with the scent of spiced ale and roasted meats, the air thick with laughter and the low hum of sea shanties. At a corner table, near the great stone hearth, sat two unlikely companions – Freja Brighteyes, the matron of wayward souls, and Morag, the retired (albeit perhaps temporarily) orc sailor, his tusks dulled by time and liquor, his sea-worn hands wrapped around a heavy tankard, a bottle of Dwarven brandy laid empty on the table. Freja leaned forward, hands flat on the table, her honey-colored eyes glazed by the drink. Yer always talking about the sea Morag, why’d you come so far from it? she asked, her voice rich like deep earth. Freja blinked, one eye, then the other. I’d expect the charity work from a cleric of Pandora or Luca, but Cosma? You’re a mysterious orc, Morag, of the Seas. Freja hiccuped, punctuating her question. Morag chuckled. The sea, She’s a goddess of her own. Unforgiving, wild, unrelenting, but fair. When I was young, I gave my life to her. Fought for her, bled for her. A cleric’s prayers don’t always come with robes and candles, Freja. Sometimes, they come with salt in the blood and steel in the hand. With a thud, another empty glass hit the table. Freja took another sip from her mug, watching him over the rim. And what does the sea demand of Her faithful? Morag exhaled, gaze distant, as if looking past the tavern walls to the crashing waves a million miles away. Respect. Strength. Sacrifice. He traced a deep scar on his arm. I’ve seen Her fury, survived Her trials. When storms threatened to swallow us, I prayed but not for calm, no, for the strength to endure. And when sailors were lost to the depths, I whispered their names to the waves, so the sea would remember them, forever. The dwarf nodded, her expression softer now. Doesn’t explain how you ended up here, or where you’re from. Morag grinned, raising his tankard in salute. Aye, I don’t know myself. I heard the whispers on the waves, and when the sea speaks, Morag listens. The Tidelord willed me here, and so here I am, and when the sea calls me back, and I believe She will, I’ll return. The sea is my land, Freja, has been since I was a boy. Shattered Kalystria and the lands beyond, they were never my home, but The Iron Tide, The Iron Tide is the finest home anyone could ever know.

[Acathala]

Hey Briar! Good luck with the game!

[Kepheren]