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Old Oct 8th, 2022, 07:25 PM
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Denizens of Dread: The Witch-Finder Chronicles

Game NameDenizens of Dread: The Witch-Finder Chronicles
Game SystemDnD 5e Homebrew
ThemeGothic Horror; Grimdark Survival; High Magic; High Adventure; Mystery Sandbox
FlavourVampires. Witches. Werewolves. Dark and Gritty.
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© Art belongs to Joanna Szczepańska
Curse of Strahd: Reign of Blood

Lightning crackled across an angry sky as roiling clouds, black as the darkest Fel, ominously churned over the ruins of a dark and derelict castle. Perched like an indomitable bird of prey atop the jagged clefts, the menacing aura the fortress exuded, ever-looming over the vast horizon swathed in mist, had long left a strong impression of untouchability among the Land’s people, their spirits all but broken after generations of unmitigated terror. Indeed. One does not simply jaunt up to the Lair of the Devil himself without first considering the dire consequences of doing so unprepared. Yet, with so much riding on this effort, Rudolph could finally say with utmost certainty that they were ready to face him head on.

Amid the raging storm, a group of roughly thirty men made the silent march up the winding road to the castle gate. An onslaught of pelting rain threatened to extinguish their torchlight, thankfully every man had been fully equipped and armed to the teeth. With bandoliers of wooden stakes resting across their chests and garlands of garlic draped about their necks, the mob brandished silvered weapons, crossbows, and vials of holy water…yet, the true power that would help them persevere this night would be the newfound hope in their hearts. They had no choice but fight for the sake of their children and their children’s children, risking all for a future free of tyranny. He couldn’t help but feel genuine pride for this scrappy lot. After months of training for this very moment, they knew the price of failure. So long as they made excellent use of the silver and look out for each other, the brunt of the work would fall to the greatest Wizard of the age. Despite all the responsibility on his shoulders, Mord had never appeared so at ease. Chomping into some raw garlic along the way, Mord gave a sly wink. "Here this, balkers and rapscallions! With some luck and impeccable timing, you'll soon witness for yourselves the wonders of garlic breath!”

Oh, Mord and his egregious sense of humor…the closer the castle became, the worse it seemed to get.

“Now remember, Doru, when staking vampires through the heart, it would certainly help to sharpen it beforehand.”

Doru, still so naïve in many ways, turned with a confused look, glancing down at his handiwork. “Well, I did check mine three times. They are definitely sharp, sir.” Clapping the lanky youth on the back, Mord nearly knocked him over by accident.

“Good, my boy! Make your father proud!”

Softly, a voice whispered in the Doctor’s ear. Were you proud of me, Father?

Clenching his jaw, Rudolph quickened the pace, stabbing the ground with an ivory walking cane. Dressed in a heavy Darkon-styled trench coat, a button up vest with matching grey trousers, and a crisp white shirt, he certainly was not a local—nor did he care to pass as one. Topping his wispy shock of bone-white hair with a smart black-brimmed hat, a pair of customized spectacles rested upon the bridge his nose.

“You’re awfully quiet, eh? You look akin to a ghost.” Mord japed, though his gaze reflected a smidge of concern. The fellow was hopelessly bald, though he more than made up for it with a garish black mustache, fancifully curled, and thin goatee. The wizard's robes were as grand as his over-the-top personality, elaborately tailored and encrusted with crystals imbued with magic. Shaking his head, Mord never could understand the meaning of subtlety.

“I want this ordeal to be over. I have family to get back to and a long and much anticipated retirement ahead. This will be my last dance with death, gods willing.”

“Retire? But you’re so young!” Gusting a hearty laugh, the Wizard seemed uncharacteristically nostalgic this evening. “Say, one day I’ll have to visit that Apothecary of yours in —“

“Absolutely not!” Adjusting his round glasses with a finger, the Doctor shook his head. “My girls are unruly enough without having you there filling their brains with mischief.” True, the wizard could mentor them and teach them things few people ever could…but the last thing he wanted was to see them following down the same miserable road as their Uncle. “Vigilance now! The adversary could be lying in wait…The Devil is a cunning beast. His power is not of this Oerth.”

With nothing left to lose…after decades of strife, vengeance would finally be mete with fire and blood.

Not surprisingly, when they had finally arrived, the thick ornate doors of the castle gate were unbarred and suspiciously ajar.

“It seems we are expected, brace yourselves men.” Unlike his compatriots, this was not Rudolph’s first time inside these accursed walls. Faced with nothing but darkness and eerie silence, it fell to him to lead the way. With some reluctance, the mob crowded inside what was once a magnificent lobby now drowned in mildew and gossamer lace, above them an arched ceiling, the ends of which reached into the impenetrable black. Perched upon ancient stone pillars and hanging from every alcove and nook throughout the rafters were innumerable hosts of gargoyles, their hideous snarls and perpetual stares harsh and foreboding. Huddled together, the rising tension already stabbed at men’s minds, regardless if these guardians were merely for show.

Despite their collective torchlight, the darkness had an oppressive quality, pressing upon them from all directions. Holding out a hand, the Doctor bade them wait until their eyes adjusted…in truth, he did not wish to frighten them. For, Rudolph sensed that they were not alone. A lurking shadow had swiftly darted by, just beyond the periphery.

Fatherdo you...hear...Please, hear me! Gritting, Rudolph winced and furiously rubbed the side of his temple. Not that incessant ringing again! Warbled whispers and haunts of the past continually plagued, but this was NOT the time for distraction!

“What is it?!” Mord pressed, sensing the Doctor’s discomfort. Before he could respond, Doru suddenly clutched onto the old man’s shoulder and pointed at the top of the grand stair.

That very moment, without warning, a deluge of disembodied screams pierced their ears and spurred widespread panic, the heinous tumult burning into their very synapses. Rattled by pangs of fright, the mob's defenses were all but shaken as many tried and failed to block out the sound with their hands. All the while, an ominous figure watched from the middle of the stair, draped in a cloak that seemed to meld with the shadows. Altogether grim, unmoved by the wailing of women and children, his dusky complexion was much akin to a phantom on the brink of vehemence.

“Shhhhh.” Pressing a slender finger to his lips, the ageless one regarded the pitchfork-wielding mob as little more than raucous children.

“My Master is not amused. Do not disturb his tranquil rest.” Looking down at them from his lofty vantage, his raspy, monotonous tone also held a deathly finality. “I advise you turn back from this folly. The door is behind you. Leave, and this trespass may yet be forgiven.”

The lengthy pause that followed after was both unnerving as it was tedious for Mord, who was more or less itching for a fight.

“Where is he?” Rudolph calmly inquired, hoping to avoid escalations if possible.

“I say again, do not disturb him.” Coldly repeating this with clear exasperation, knowing well they had no intention of turning back, a grievous smile crept upon the shadow's ageless countenance. You have been warned.”

 




Plot Summary
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© Art belongs to Tim Shepherd
Hidden between the Shadow and Light is a shattered Plane forsaken by the gods, held together by nothing short of Evil itself. Though little is known about the true aims of the Fel Architects, the Dark Powers, ultimately it serves as a prison of torment for some of the most wicked souls in existence. The fate of the innocent trapped alongside them are of little consequence in their grand scheme. Try as many have, there is no escape from these mist-borne realms of madness...but, so long as there is hope, the intrepid few, willing to face the untold horrors and impossible odds, will never give up their search for freedom.

You are one of these downtrodden Denizens seeking a way out.

All that stands between you and the material plane is a myriad of Dark Lords ever-bent on adopting you as a permanent resident inside their own personal hell.




 


 



Enter at Your Own Peril Welcome brave adventurers, one and all! You are not the first unwary souls to be claimed by the mists, and you certainly won't be the Last. Come! An assortment of gruesome delights await you in the Fel Realm of Barovia, where the dead are always looking to recruit. Before you plunge headfirst into oblivion, there are a few points to consider:

Death Around Every Corner: Ravenloft is unique for its deadly encounters, especially if you wander off the beaten path. That said, there are hidden gems sprinkled throughout the setting, some of which can only be found by doing some literal digging. Death is not necessarily something you can avoid, as it is a facet of the experience. Death alternatives will often be in place to help in those instances, of course, but in certain extreme scenarios you may have to reroll. Our lovely Dark Lord, Strahd Von Zarovich, is both opportunistically ruthless as he is playfully nosy. He will be at the fore and center of all your fears and paranoia, a formidable foe that not only spies on you, but actively manipulates events and uses every means to achieve his goal. A predator stalks you from the shadows. He will bite.

Retro Meets Revamped: For this campaign, I will be mixing the modern Curse of Strahd: Revamped with adapted material pulled from the first edition Ravenloft adventures and other complementary modules and texts, such as Van Richten's Arsenal. For those who are familiar with 1e and 2e, you may notice names like Jundar Sunstar, Larissa Snowmane, and Alanik Ray. Although I am pulling these names and concepts to enhance the game, ultimately their involvement is part of my own personal homebrew twist, so their details might not be accurate to the books. Nevertheless, they are here for added flavor.

Curses: In Ravenloft, for good and evil, all choices have their ghastly price. Certain actions can and will tickle the Dark Powers, especially actions that reflect their own unfathomable Evil. Curses are a mechanism in game that are reserved for those who overstep their boundaries, whether by the mistreatment of certain NPCs, or though foibles that may be all but unavoidable. Typically, curses range from silly hexes of inconvenience to severe and debilitating, depending on the magnitude of the infraction and the one who conjured it. Should curses enter gameplay, I will provide a means to cleanse them, except for the instance of Lycanthrope and Vampirism, which are time sensitive and may require special conditions to be met. Should characters transform, there will be perks and obvious disadvantages, but a road you may take nonetheless.

Horror in Ravenloft: Van Richten's Fear and Stress Mechanic will be included in the Campaign to enhance the atmospheric dread that any normal, sane person would feel in this kind of setting; and, of course, to encourage awesome RP for all of you. Each character will have two Seeds of Fear that will come into play anytime they experience it during the campaign. A list will be provided in the Character Creation section for you to check out. By all means, add flavorful ones of your own. When faced with these Seed of Fear or a terrifying scenario, I will prompt you to roll a WIS save vs becoming Frightened. In a non-combat scene, if you fail the WIS save and RP a realistic reaction to this fear, you will have the opportunity to be awarded inspiration. The penalty for the fail save, however, will be an increase of your stress level by 1, out of 5 total. Your stress level manifests with exhaustion. If you have level 2 stress, you're going to have 2 levels of exhaustion so it will give you a -2 penalty on attack rolls, ability checks, and saving throws. Over time, characters may grow out of their old fears and replace them with new ones. The Stress Mechanic, however, is something you'll need to actively manage. To remove a level of stress, characters will need to perform self-care (AKA, take a long rest) or make use of the Calm Emotions or Greater Restoration spells.

Keystone Battle Maps: What is horror without its bloody, bone chilling encounters? This campaign can be combat heavy and deadly at the drop of a hat between dungeon-delving and the many things that go bump in the night. Smaller encounters will be largely dealt with in theatre of the mind. For the more intricate battles, Roll20 maps will be made available in post.


Materials AllowedPlaybook, Van Richten's Guide to Ravenloft, Mordenkainen's Tome of Foes, Xanathar's Guide, Tasha's Cauldron of Everything, Unearthed Arcana, Mat Mercer content, Homebrew pending DM discretion.

A Mite of Advice
Welcome aboard! Who's At the Helm?: Hello, my name is DaniLore. I've been around for a few years and have recently come back from hiatus. Truthfully, I have dabbled with DMing in the past but I intend to give this campaign my full effort and attention, as it deserves. A lover of all things grimdark and horror, this has been a passion project of mine upwards of two years and its great to see it finally coming to light. Updates will be at minimum 1-3x a week, more often during combat depending on my work schedule and the length of said posts. Building an immersive story with folks is one of the joys of pbp, so I'm looking for players that are active, interactive, and mindful of the risks. The campaign itself will be very lengthy, especially for the scope of the premise. Once Curse of Strahd has reached its bloody conclusion, we will then move on to explore other Domains of Dread, at which point we will plunge into a homebrew sandbox of delightful horrors. I hope you will stick with me for the long haul. Unfortunately, in the past, I have had to leave abruptly and I do understand that Life happens. Mental fatigue is also a culprit that can slam unexpectedly on here, for that reason I have taken the oath of Sangus as I hope you will too. If there is ever a problem or concern, please communicate with me through PM or OOC. That said, the story must go on, and if I hear nothing from you for two weeks, I will most likely shelve the character—maybe.

Trigger Warnings Ahoy: If, for any reason, there is an issue with the horror tropes/content you are welcome to discuss it with me. If you want, secret any triggers you have at the bottom of your app so I know beforehand. However, please be aware that violence, gore, and mature themes will be touched on frequently within the confines of the site's rules and regulations. Ultimately, my goal is to elicit a heavy, atmospheric, gritty vibe with healthy sprinkles of morbid humor. This game is LGTBQ friendly and I encourage open expression of love and bonding between players and NPCs. Anything moving beyond risqué will fade to black.

Character CreationFind your Inspiration: It may seem too good to be true, but you indeed have complete freedom to create your dream Ravenloft character. My only stipulation is that you link homebrew/playtest material with your completed app and ask for feedback.

Alignment in Ravenloft: Flawed characters are encouraged. At times the party may have to negotiate with Evil NPCs to take on a bigger fish, and in the Ravenloft setting moral standards are grey at best. For this reason, characters may have EVIL alignments if you are willing to accept the consequences of your own choices. Undermining the party won't be tolerated, especially when our Dark Lord hates being outshined. An Evil app must be superb with clear motivations please. If you can convince me that your CE character won't be stabbing everyone or in their sleep in the back, I'd be very interested to see what you can come up with.

Characters start at level 1
27 point buy or Dice [rerolling 1s]
1 starting feat
Origins: Characters are denizens from the Demiplanes of Dread. Information for thirteen realms have been provided below. Of course, you may choose realms that have not been listed. Your character may have fascinating/tragic run-ins with a Dark Lord in their background, just keep in mind that they are all refugees from their prospective domains, with no knowledge of the truly monstrous natures of the Dark Lords and the Dark Powers behind them. I am hoping to recruit at least SEVEN players for this epic adventure, maybe more depending on turnout.

 


**Please no rolling in the advert/game thread. Character sheets will be made after selection.**


ApplicationName: What shall be scrawled on your crypt?
Race: Of little consequence. Your blood is delicious.
Class: What role do you play in the greater scheme?
Origin: From whence do you hail?
Appearance: Two heads? Snaggletooth? Have you the pox? Well, don't be shy. Choose a moody picture for your token.
* Personality/Traits: Feel free to expound on your character's individual personality, but alongside your standard background I would like you to choose one Horror Personality Trait, as well as an Ideal, Bond, and Flaw from the table below to add an extra pinch of flavor.

 


Background:This is where I'll be paying particular attention. Where do you come from? What motivates your escape from the Demiplanes? Is there a particular realm you hope to visit? Do you have a vendetta against a certain Dark Lord? Are you running from a sordid past? Do you seek redemption? The questions posed at the end of each Domain are there for guidance, if you need it.

Experience: How long have you been playing dnd? Are you familiar with Ravenloft and CoS? New players welcome.

Posting Rate: at least x2/week


Secret this information, if you wish. This will help me create interesting hooks for you later.

Alignment: Required for all Apps
Secret Vice: Everyone has at least one. What weakness are you desperate to hide from the light?
Seeds of Fears x2: No one is without fear.
Mist Talisman: What is your Mist Talisman? These are objects that could be anything from the button eye of your childhood doll to your clan's ancestral Katana. An object that has personal meaning to your character. They will not be with you at the beginning of the game, as is often the case in Ravenloft, lost things have a tendency to find their way back to you.



 


 





Applications Closed
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Last edited by DaniLore; Oct 25th, 2022 at 10:02 AM. Reason: Typos, typos, and more typos.
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Old Oct 8th, 2022, 07:26 PM
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Player Name Race Class Domain Status
Boogieman Oriole Deepka Armada Human Rogue Darkon Complete
delpinator Jasper PetersonHuman Bard The CarnivalWIP
keylan Damaris Dragonborn Paladin Lamordia Complete
Ballingray Ler Khona Human Paladin Kartakass Complete
AlphaZ Alessa Perilane Changeling Warlock The Carnival Complete
Cheshire Zeek Aarakocra Monk Dementlieu Complete
Jasontheswift Julius Duskward Human Paladin Darkon Complete
lydkleinSamia Badawi Reborn Cleric Har'Akir Complete
voodoozombie Violet Cogscraft Reborn Artificer LamordiaComplete
Vislands Nabira of the Nephrite Earth Genasi Blood HunterLamordia Complete
Humble Athena Nikol Dravkin Human Ranger Mordent Complete
In The Mix Kidrian Half-Drow Rogue The Carnival Complete
OsmundCinderholt Elias d'CannithHuman Cleric Cyre 1313 Complete
SnakeOilCharmerIorina Maçu Human Fighter Falcovnia Complete
IrishKatt Bogdana OleanderAstral Elf Warlock Tepest Complete
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Talissen70Nathania Cade HexBlood Ranger Borca Complete
Treble83 Cylian Kilafin Drow Sorcerer -- WIP
caseStefan BelascoHuman Rogue MordentComplete
Jrod Tessa Leafweave Half-Elf Cleric FalcovniaComplete
ArcZeroElovhen "Quasid" NenlithMindflayer/High ElfWizard Bluetspur Complete
FatherDondo Sek Tiefling Sorcerer Darkon Complete
epelj1Satya Gaur Halfling Rogue Kalakeri Complete
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Last edited by DaniLore; Oct 25th, 2022 at 06:11 PM.
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Old Oct 8th, 2022, 10:54 PM
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This sounds like it could be a lot of fun. Working up a character concept.
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Old Oct 9th, 2022, 04:38 AM
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You have my attention. Application incoming.
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Old Oct 9th, 2022, 02:11 PM
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Name: Zeek
Race: Aarakocra
Class: Monk
Origin: Masquerades
Appearance: Wrapped in blue French noble attire. Zeet is a proud bird, and he carries himself as such. Dressing in only the finest silks, and walking with a cane, he looks down at those he feels are beneath him. He has black and white feathers, with longer feathers on top of his head.

 


Background: Zeek's family was one of the wealthy nobles, always receiving an invitation to the Grand Masquerades. They happily went, eager to show off their status to those less fortunate. For years, he and his family enjoyed the lavish life. Being the center of attention everywhere they went. With the snap of his fingers he was given anything his heart desired. Party after party, they flaunted everything they had. Dressed in the finest clothing, he walks with a with a cane, which doubles as his weapon of choice. Never really liking the sword, Zeek trained in hand to hand combat. Enjoying dancing made learning this style come naturally.

Zeek was dancing with his partner when a man tried to cut in and take over. The noble bird was not having it and in a fit of anger tripped him, causing the Duchess to wave her hand and turned the man to dust. Although he was pleased with himself that he would no longer be bothered by the stranger, Zeek now sees the man and every other person whos death he caused in every mirror he passes. Haunted by what he did, looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life, he feels the presence of the spirits of all those he has wronged. For this reason he never likes being alone, being around others holds back the ever present feeling of being watched.

Soon after this act, Zeek's family lost their fortune. Not wanting to let anyone know that they were now penniless, Zeek acts as though they still have money. Walking proudly, insulted when the best is not offered to him, even though he could not afford it anyway. Now that he and his family have lost anything they were forced to live in the slums, no longer receiving invitations. The change in living conditions caused a lot of fighting within the family, no longer having servants or lesser people be at their beck and call. The hardest part for the noble bird was he was no longer the center of attention, people did not envy him for what he had. However, now living in the slums did not stop them from trying to get inside the dances, with their usual elegant clothing. Forced to sneak in, Zeek would often swap clothes with others when he found his clothing to be worn or imperfect. Causing their death if he had to, his need for self-preservation was so strong nothing was going to stand in his way. At the Masquerades, he and his family do their best to avoid being noticed by the Red Death.

During one dance, Zeek found a button loose on his shirt, luckily he was able to hid the imperfection from the sight of those who would frown at such a thing. The person who he took a new shirt from did not fare so well. Sadly, do to their change in status, many of Zeek's family could not hold the appearance of still being wealthy and were taken by the phantom. Not knowing how many of his family were still alive Zeek, seeks to escape the life of torment he is now stuck in. After finding out the cause of his family's death and how few of them were left, it was to much for him. To onlookers, he seems somewhat off; the combination of the spirits of those he had wronged following him, combined with the loss of his family members and looming death always at his heels, he now feels that he can not relax. Driven by the need to return to the prestigious life of nobility, Zeek sometimes lets his greed and desperation get the better of him and he looses his noble demeanor and lashes out at others.


Experience: I have been playing DnD for most of my life. Started with 3.5, and then switched to 5e. I recently tried my hand and DMing which I find a lot of fun. For the most part, I tend to play Charismatic characters, used for infiltration or being the face of the party. I have not played a horror based campaign yet and would like to try my hand at it, playing a different type of character than I am used to.
Post rate: 2x a week should be do-able

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Last edited by Cheshire; Oct 12th, 2022 at 11:54 PM.
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Old Oct 9th, 2022, 02:25 PM
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Old Oct 9th, 2022, 02:45 PM
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Name: Damaris
Race: Dragonborn (Silver Dragon)
Class: Paladin of the Morninglord
Origin: Lamordia--Domain of Snow and Stitched Flesh
Appearance: Damaris is a well-built Dragonborn with mostly silver scales which glisten blue and white along with golden eyes. When you see Damaris blink you notice that he has three eyelids: 2 normal ones and a thin, almost transparent one underneath that moves in a perpendicular direction to the other two. When Damaris is agitated his nostrils smoke like a chimney. His voice is rough and grumbly, and he slurs all his S’s into ‘sh’ sounds his tong is long and serpentine. He stands at around 6'2" tall and weighs about 250 lbs.

Personality/Traits: Samaria has a quiet confidence about him. He's quite and reserved upon meeting new people. He has had many dangerous encounters that have scared his personality making him slightly calloused. Once he allows people into his inner circle, he will do anything to help them even if it means laying down his own life.

Background: Investigator

Personality
 

.
Background:Background: Damaris grew up in a small village outside the city of Neufurchtenburg his father Diamreoss was a well-known monster hunter who taught Damaris everything he knew about investigating missing items and people. One day while searching for missing miners from Neufurchtenburg, in the Sleeping Beast area the two of them were attacked by a strange creature with two heads and four arms. Diamreoss quickly drew his swords and charged to battle the creature while ordering Damaris to stand ready for anything else that might be approaching. As Damaris watch the two in a desperate battle that seemed to go on forever there was a sudden explosion of light and heat.

Once Damaris was able to open his eyes, he realized that he was thrown flat on his back without realizing it. Picking himself up, Damaris walked over to where the bodies should be. Looking around the area all that Damaris found was a large crater with a strange mist roiling out of it. As Damaris looked closer, he saw the faint shape of a portal forming above the crater. As Damaris stared at black tentacle streaked out and grabbed him. No matter how much Damaris struggled he was unable to break free. He was quickly dragged into the portal and disappeared.

Once Damaris awakened, he found himself chained to a slab of black rock with strange runes etched into it. Standing over him was a strange looking humanoid with black goggles, and a bloodstained lab coat. The creature looks down at Damaris. “Ah your awake, you shall be my greatest creation.” The man turns away and begins to flip switches and the room begins to hum with energy. A blue light begins to infuse the area and the runes begin to rise and a strange orange glow begins. Suddenly the runes begin to spin faster and faster. The pain begins to overcome Damaris and he soon blacks out.

After an unknown amount of time, Damaris awakes but he is no longer chained nor bound. The man opens the door to where Damaris sits. “Good your awake. It seems that my experiment worked.” Damaris looks at himself but does not see anything different about himself. “What did you do to me?” The man gives a small smile. “I have made you better.” Before Damaris can ask a question or the man gives a better statement an explosion shakes the building and part of the celling falls and crushes the man standing in the doorway. Damaris quickly closes his eyes to avert the worst of the dust.

As the dust settles Damaris can see the outside and quickly makes his way into the outside and into the city. Stumbling along the alley way quite injured by the blast, Damaris makes his way into the bright street and soon collapses in front of a large building. He vaguely remembers being taken inside and a soothing light encompasses his body. After an unknown amount of time Damaris open’s his eyes and hears a calm voice and a face comes into view. “Ah your awake. Welcome to the home of the Morninglord. My name is Magnus, high cleric of this temple. You have been asleep for many days. Your wounds were great, but we’ve been able to heal them for the most part. Unfortunately, we cannot heal all of them.”

Damaris tried to follow the tenets of faith for the Morninglord as a cleric but found the martial aspects more to his liking. He has been training with a man named Toren who took him as pupil and taught him to fight as a Paladin. Toren has taught him everything that Damaris needs to continue his adventures. His missions for the church have brought him far and wide throughout the lands of Lamordia. On his adventures he has encountered many strange and unusual creatures.

To this day Damaris has no idea as to what happened in the lab. He has done his best to avoid the Ludendorf University and its strange occurrences. So far no one has been able to explain what happened to Damaris that strange lab nor what changes have occurred to his body. Damaris travels far and wide to discover what the cryptic message the scientist told him about his greatest achievement but remains unknown.

Experience: How long have you been playing dnd? Since the 80's. Are you familiar with Ravenloft and CoS? I am familiar with both Ravenloft and CoS.
Post Rate 2x per week is very doable for me.


Last edited by keylan; Oct 17th, 2022 at 02:38 PM.
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Old Oct 9th, 2022, 03:31 PM
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Old Oct 9th, 2022, 05:15 PM
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BasicsName: Oriole “Odie” Deepka Armada

Race: Human. Allegedly.

Class: Rogue. Allegedly.

Origin: Wash Street, Martira Bay, Jagged Coast, Darkon

Appearance/Personality
right-aligned image
'Anabeco Diexfi' are the words he lives by.
Oriole Deepka Armada has been described in many ways.

Many may describe Odie as princely. Simmering copper eyes, a regal broad nose, and voluptuous dark lips compliment deep brown skin. His falu red ochre locs are thicker than thumbs, streaking down his head like bloody lightning. Tattoos are on the back of each of his hands - a black boar left, a shining gem right - and the scar over his eye is as intense as his gaze. Edges of other inked-in pieces peek out from beneath sleeve hems and shirt collar. He holds his head straight, fixated on what is in front of him, a challenge to something only he seems to know is following.

Some could accuse Oriole of suffering from good taste. Everything he wears is overpriced for the occasion, an allusion to some sort of city living. Each outfit is topped off with a dark red leather jacket and a soil brown, gold-flecked bandoleer. Piercings and jewelry are no strangers against his skin, and despite his many rings, a red-stoned statement ring stands out on his right hand. It bears a unique sign: an "A" formed by two pistols and a toothy grin. This symbol is also tattooed in a piece large enough to cover the entire front of his neck.

Yet good taste could simply be the veil of vanity, it doesn't help that Odie seems aloof, lost in a way that seems self-absorbed to some extent. He often speaks in a detached way, vague bluntness and effortless criticism, woven between insightful inspection and outlandish jests. Though Odie’s words may be misconstrued as heartless, an astute listener may note his ability to waste less words than most.

Out of all observers, a few could call him intense. The eyebags, scars, and callouses are surprisingly not indicative of an easy life. For all of his lazy affectation, Odie is always doing something. When he's not chewing on an oversized wad of chicle, he will be found fiddling with his rings and locs or smoking a cigar.

But no matter what people think of Odie, most everyone agrees that he seems cold.

Not just cold, but cold. His frigid force often slips out from behind his unfiltered gaze. It even seems to seep into his skin. To look at him is akin to looking at a cliff-side through falling snow. It isn't the sort of cold that cares to kill, but the sort of freezing that leaves your soul numb, leaving Odie’s features as immovable as a glacier's depths until a smirk breaks the ice.

And beneath that ice is pure, unresolved terror.


“Traits”
Background: Club Member

Personality
Classic I am always calm, no matter what the situation. I never raise my voice or let my emotions control me.
Horror I have a personal ritual, mantra, or relaxation method use to deal with stress.

Ideals
Classic Family: Blood runs thicker than water.
Horror Obsession: I've lived this way for so long that I can't imagine another way.

Bonds
Classic I have and would do anything for the other members of my old Club.
Horror I lost people I care about, but I still see them in guilty visions, recurring dreams, or as a spirit.

Flaws
Classic When faced with a choice between morality and duy, I usually choose the more profitable one.
Horror I know the ends always justifies the means and am quick to make sacrifices to attain my goal.


Background

A
hundred years ago, before the King’s Tear hung in the sky, Club Escadrille had an established reputation as one of the dominating coteries. Their martial and political supremacy allowed them to maintain a larger swath of turf than their numbers accounted for. Pseudo-religious discipline retained their chains-of-command while a working relationship with the Baron proved profitable. Once they established an “understanding” with the Kargat, it kept them from being extinguished in a sea of scandals and backstabbing.


Twenty Five Years Ago


Yet any ship long enough at sea was bound to take on some water. Fresher, more emboldened coteries began to chip away at Club Escadrille’s membership. They used newer tactics, newer weapons. Escadrille’s increased losses were beginning to impact their numbers.

That’s when they came.

On a boat came Vill Deepka. With a company of men and women armed to the teeth, Vill was received onto the Martira Bay docks by Escadrille’s ruling family and given an armed escort to Escadrille’s estate. After several days, a strange deal was signed and sealed in blood.

Vill’s entourage hailed from a mixed lineage of supernatural slayers. They offered their services to Escadrille. They sought to hunt for them, to fight their enemies, to serve them with their lives. They even offered their children to them. The three conditions were simple.

First, they would be inducted into their ranks. While it was agreed that the majority of them would be dhamphirs, Vill had made it a point that a select few of their rank should be inducted in as vampires for accountability, solidarity, and the power to rival other vampiric rivals.

Second, this family wanted to operate independently from their mother Club. They wanted to form their own "sub" Club, one that focused on honing their slayer arts into forming Escadrille’s point of the spear.

Lastly was that their children were offered protection, to remain human so that their minds and bodies could adapt with ease to their training in this newly founded Club. When they became of age, they would receive the blessing of the night.

In past years, it would have been a relatively preposterous idea; the Escadrille could have easily slain the assembly of humans on the spot, taken their weapons and hunted down their families. Who was the predator to align with their prey? Foolish. Insolent. Futile.

And yet…

The losses Escadrille suffered left them in dire straits, and their turf was on the edge of a complete takeover. These strangers brought them a promise of dedication, an extra measure of power in their time of need. Considering these slayers were confident enough in their craft to risk their families, it seemed there was little for them to lose. So with desperation and lust for power, the Escadrille agreed to the deal. Vill and her entourage were inducted into their ranks, with Vill herself and four of her aides taking on their new vampiric existence.


Currently


Club Armada had lived up to its word. Turf was claimed, enemies were put down. Their skill and willpower gave Escadrille the edge they needed to survive, even if it showed how much more they cared for their families than the mother Club they served. Despite their contributions, the last eight years had been hard.

Between the power vacuum left by Azalin and the Shroud condensing the population, the Jagged Coast became a deadly pressure cooker. Practically daily, Martira Bay found itself with new coteries contending for the kingdom’s command. These threats strained the relationship between the Escadrille and Armada Clubs. Many of Escadrille’s ruling members wanted to use the human prospects of their child Club to make up for supply shortages. Others simply wanted to turn all of Club Armada’s members into full vampires to bolster their strength, but the ritual itself risked killing most of them.

The comprise agreed upon was to move up the age where Club Armada’s families were to be inducted by five years.

Oriole was scared, but he felt ready. Years of mastery and dedication had prepared him for this moment. No longer would he be a prospect, simply misleading fellow humans and risking his life sabotaging others. He would be a full member of the Club, a formidable force of the undead. The taste of immortality and the exercise of his family’s art was what he worked his whole life to achieve. On the night of his initiation, his mother Vill gifted him with the family heirloom weapon and an old journal.

Of course, there was no time to navigate its pages. Oriole and his fellow prospects were escorted to the Escadrille estates to undertake their right of passage.

Before they even arrived, tragedy had struck.

The battle that took place was fervent. Club members were doing all they could to hold their own against a joint effort by the Kargat and other coteries. From where the prospects could see, it was a lost cause. Their family was strewn across the ground like trampled flowers.

It didn’t make sense. To have gathered so many together alongside the Kargat…something had happened. From what Oriole could tell, this was more than territory taking. It was an extermination, one fit enough for enemies to agree upon, even if for one night.

Oriole could recall looking through the corpses, fire, and rubble to spot the stylish silhouette of the Baron, her blade slipped through a member like a kebab. Despite the distance, Oriole stunned stupid standing in their carriage, the Baron’s gaze locked with his own.

His carriage and cohort tried to get away. The bloody blur that followed was incredibly hazy as they made it to the docks. Oriole remembers the screaming, the blood, and the silence. There was no laughter, no viciousness. It was a cold business.

Somehow Oriole made it to a boat and rowed away, into the Shroud. It embraced him, covered him...

...consumed him.


Exp/Post RateExperience: I've been playing DnD and other TTRPGs off and on for over 15 years. But every time I've tried playing a Ravenloft-style game, it has died nearly immediately. I've since remained relatively ignorant of a lot of the lore and settings to give myself the benefit of discovery. As a writer, I've loved the idea of exploring this setting as the grittiness aligns with how I enjoy writing.

Posting Rate: At least x2/week is perfect. Sometimes I'll post more, especially during combat.



Last edited by Boogieman; Oct 18th, 2022 at 10:49 AM. Reason: Editing is not my forte.
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  #10  
Old Oct 9th, 2022, 05:42 PM
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Can we be from one domain and move to another?
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Leaning against the wall, watching the others rush by him, he grins. "Go ahead, go get that treasure that's laying there. Be more for me after you die."
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Old Oct 9th, 2022, 08:36 PM
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Leaning against the wall, watching the others rush by him, he grins. "Go ahead, go get that treasure that's laying there. Be more for me after you die."
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Old Oct 9th, 2022, 10:59 PM
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Name: jasper Peterson
Race: Of little consequence though I've heard whispers I've got a touch of magic blood(hex blood )
Class: a bard, a friendly face, though money makes the wheels turn.
Origin: From the carnival I've got no home to return to but adventure where I'm going.
Appearance:
* Personality/Traits:
Traits
I know a story for almost any situation
No one stays angry at me long I can diffuse almost any situation
There is nothing more important than life and I will leave no one behind.
Ideal
The world is my canvas and I must make it a better place. I know of the evil work behind the curtain and must make islands from it.
Bond
Someone stole my father's mandalin and I am to get it back. Spirits are drawn to me and I attempt to help them find peace.
Flaws
My sharp tounge often lands me I trouble.

I've seen the dangers of man and avoid the cities

Background:

Experience: I've been playing since 2004 though stopped for many of those years then started again on this site around 2015.






Last edited by delpinator; Oct 9th, 2022 at 11:54 PM.
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  #13  
Old Oct 9th, 2022, 11:03 PM
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MoonZar MoonZar is online now
Zar Campaign World
 
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With Hallowen coming up, its a good theme. Good luck with the campaign!
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I'm working on a new campaign setting, do you mind giving me feedback? Thanks.
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Old Oct 10th, 2022, 01:22 AM
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Hey Seekr34, to answer your question, traveling from one Domain to another is possible but the means to do so is not simple anymore after the disillusionment of the Witch-Finder Compass. Here are a few exceptions:

You’re a Vistana—The Vistani are a nomadic tribe of humans who long ago adopted the Domain of Dread as their home. Though their origins are mysterious and lost to them, those with blood-ties to the Vistani possess the mystical ability to travel to and from the Lands of Mist and the Material Plane. As their numbers burgeoned across the centuries, clans emerged and fell into three Tasques, or nations, each forming their own unique culture. Eventually, this lead to a split from the Marusa Tasque (of Barovia). The clans tied to the Boem and Kaldresh Tasques migrated elsewhere, beyond Strahd’s influence, and settled in Mordent, Lamordia, Borca, Dementlieu, Hazlan, Kartakass, Richemulot, and Darkon. These are the only Domains that are not outright inhospitable for the Vistani, as many of these realms absolutely depend on the goods that the Vistani smuggle from the outside. Not to say you couldn’t find them elsewhere, but their caravans typically stick to the Core. Those unfortunate Vistana that are banished may be found wandering the Islands of Terror.

You joined the Circus— As a member of the Carnival, you would have seen several of the Domains and the realms beyond, yet there’s no rhyme or reason behind the scenes. The Carnival hurries at random from one location to the next, though there is always one constant—the Litwick Market. Comprised of peddlers, quacks, and snake-oil salesmen, the strange folks of the Litwick Market incessantly follow regardless if they are welcome or not. Constantly on the move, Life in the Carnival certainly has its drawbacks. Much is expected, and many have come and gone over the years, not all departing on the best of terms. Those who don’t pull their weight may be left behind. Those who break Isolde’s trust may barely get out alive.

Friend of the Expedition— this will require some elaboration on your part. Perhaps an acquaintance or your family were involved with the Grim Expedition. The number of Hunters with compasses have severely dwindled over the past decade, as the device tends to draw one toward dangers and certain death. In this respect, it’s very possible you were whisked from one Domain to another, if to escape hags, zealots, or something far worse. Whatever their reasoning, the compass used to transport you is no more. On top of that, the Domain you’ve wound up in should be worse off than your previous home.

Aside from these options, players should stick to one Domain as their origin. Although, if you have a neat concept I’m all ears.

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Last edited by DaniLore; Oct 10th, 2022 at 02:13 AM.
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Old Oct 10th, 2022, 01:48 AM
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