[Other] Witcher TRPG: To All a Good Night

[Hal Hammerhand]

Game Name To All a Good Night.

Game System Other Roleplaying Games

Theme Witcher TTRPG.

Flavour Nitty, gritty adventure on the Continent

Plot Summary To All A Good Night: "People like to invent monsters and monstrosities. Then they seem less monstrous themselves. When they get blind-drunk, cheat, steal, beat their wives, starve an old woman, when they kill a trapped fox with an axe or riddle the last existing unicorn with arrows, they like to think that the Bane entering cottages at daybreak is more monstrous then they are. They feel better then. They find it easier to live." ~Geralt of Rivia It's been a long, hard journey, but it's well worth it. Anything to avoid the meat-grinder at the Pontar, right? Nobody knows how long Vergen can hold out, but everybody knows it won't be long. Nothing stops the Nilfgaardian war machine. A few days of sneaking past the Nilfgaardian patrols, maybe picking up a few deserters on the way, and you've landed in some little Aedirnian town called Asheberg. It's a nice enough place but the people seem a bit on edge. Not surprising: Nilfgaard just went through and the streets still smell of blood and rotting corpses. Speaking of the streets, you don't see any children here. Our adventure begins in the small town of Asheberg in upper Aedirn. You find open lodgings at the Wolf Head Tavern. The smell of blood fades as you step into the Wolf Head Tavern, only to be replaced by the odor of the drunk, unwashed commonfolk of Asheberg. As you take a seat and gesture to the barkeep for some food and drink you realize the people here look broken and scared, but not in the way you've come to expect from the terrors of Nilfgaard. Sure, you see the usual lack of fighting age men and the discarded national flags but also the same lack of children you saw when you entered the town. The few you do see are kept on a tight leash by their parents. After a minute, the barkeep who was arguing quietly with a townswoman, comes to your table with a platter of bread and cheese and a bottle of dwarven spirits. As he sets it down he says nervously, "You lot look tough...Meal's on the house, and if ya wanna make some coin, meet me out back tonight. I swear the coin's good." Details: -According to the walkthrough I can take up to six players but I would like to keep it between 4-5. -The system is Witcher TTRPG. -Your characters will be rolled randomly per the instructions in the book except for one outcome you may choose. -If your character dies during the campaign, have a plan for your initial character's sibling to take over. -If you wish to work out your stats and the like, although it's not required until you are chosen, You may roll Reroll 1's and 2's1d10 nine times or distribute 60 points. -Wealth and equipment: You can roll on the 'Getting coin' table or take the average then include your profession equipment, you can purchase whatever you think you might need. -Depending the interest I would like 1 Witcher and 1 Mage but everything else is fair game. -Please write up your application for your preferred class but have at least one backup in mind. -If you're character is from the North, they are fleeing the oncoming war. -If your character is from Nilfgaard, they are deserters running from the frontline. -This will be a rather easy-going game, possibly short since it's a pre-made adventure from the book, but it can lead to something more if the players stay on and enjoy the ride. -Here is a link to a very high resolution picture of the Continent. -Feel free to include traditional characters in your backstory except that Triss, Yennefer, Geralt and Ciri, while still famous have vanished and been gone for a few years. -Ask questions. -Lastly and most important: DO NOT ROLL IN THIS THREAD! You can use this thread here for rolls. -Deadline: January 31. Application: Name: Something appropriate Race: You choose this and it will affect how NPC's react to you. Profession: You choose this, regardless of Lifepath. Personality: How you get along alone, with friends, with enemies, the works. A good paragraph. Appearance: I would like a picture, decent sized plus a good paragraph description, how you view the picture you chose. If you need help finding a picture or resizing a picture, send me a PM. Backstory: How did you end up here, including your hook and any bonds you share with the people you have met in the past and include how you met and react to the other players' characters. (Optional) RP Sample: a honest show of your typical typing skill level, what a typical post of your's would look like

[Hal Hammerhand]

Reserved for GM:

Q & A: 1.) Can I choose the outcomes for my rolls instead of leaving it up to chance?: The luck of the dice is one of my favorite features in Tabletop RPG and it shows me as the GM how well you can take randomly generated ideas and spin them in your favor to create something we can enjoy in our story-writing collaborative! Please, roll the lifepath and then message me with any questions and concerns and I will work with you to help you build a character that you can enjoy playing. I promise I won't let the luck of the dice give you a completely unenjoyable experience. 2.) Source material? I would like to stick to the main book for my first game so I can get a good fell for it before I jump into the deep end of variations. Thank you. 3.) When you say one Witcher and one Mage, do you mean you will take a maximum of one each, or that you want at least one each but will take more? One Mage, one Witcher max. You may roll up a secondary lifepath and post a secondary application if you don't mind playing a different class aside from Witcher or Mage though if your main app is of one of those two. 4.)What is the rule on availability and buying starting equipment? Is anything up for grabs or only up to a certain availability: Everywhere (E): yes, available Common (C): yes, available Poor (P): limited by the region your character has spent time in. You aren't going to find a Nilfgaardian style weapon in Kaedwen if you have never been within the Empire's borders. Rare (R): not available except under very, very special circumstances. 5.) What kind of character sheet are we going to use? I plan on providing this simple, not-so-fancy statblock: OOC:   Ekhild of Beeches | Witcher of the Gryphon School HP: 40/40 | Stamina: 40 | AC: Head 0, Torso 8, Legs 3 | Current Initiative: +8 | Weapons: +0, 4d6+2, Armor-piercing, MeteoriteWitcher Steel Sword & +0, 1d6+2, 3d6 silverWitcher Silver Sword Abilities: INT 5 | REF 8 | DEX 8 | BODY 8 | SPD 8 | EMP 3 | CRA 5 | WILL 8 | LUCK 3 Derived: Stun 8 | Run 24 | Leap 4 | Vigor 4 | Enc 70 | Rec 8 | Punch 1d6+2 | Kick 1d6+6 Main Skills: Witcher Training (Int)+5 | Alchemy (Cra)+4 | Athletics (Dex)+5 | Awareness (Int)+4 | Deduction (Int)+3 | Dodge/Escape (Ref)+5 | Ride (Ref)+1 | Spell Casting (Will)+6 | Stealth (Dex)+1 | Swordsmanship (Ref)+5 | Wilderness Survival (Int)+5 Pickup Skills: Physique (Body)+3 | Endurance (Body)+3 | Social Etiquette (Int)+4 | Brawling (Ref)+3 Features: - Most of a Witcher’s early life is spent within the walls of their keep, studying huge, dusty tomes and going through hellish combat training. Many have argued that the Witcher’s greatest weapon is their knowledge of monsters and their adaptability in any situation. When in a hostile environment or difficult terrain, a Witcher can lessen the penalties by half their Witcher Training value (minimum 1). Witcher Training can also be used in any situation that you would normally use Monster Lore forWitcher Training -+1 to awareness, Scent trackingEnhanced senses -No courage checks vs intimidation, -4 to EmpDulled emotions -Immune to diseases, can use MutagensResilient mutations -+1 to Reflex and Dexterity above 10Lightning reflexes Spells: - (Mixed) STA Cost: Variable Effect: Yrden creates a large magic circle on the ground around you. Anything that steps into that circle takes a negative to SPD and REF (equal to the number of STA you spent) until they exit the circle. Any incorporeal creatures that enter the circle become corporeal. Range: 3m Radius Duration: 5 rounds Defense: NoneYrden - (Earth) STA Cost: Variable Effect: Quen creates a shield with 5 Health Points per point of Stamina spent to protect you. If you fail (or choose not to or are unable to) to defend against an attack or effect which causes damage, the damage is first applied to the Quen shield. Lethal and non-lethal damage reduce the Quen shield’s Health Points equally. If the shield is reduced to 0 Health any remaining damage is applied to you as per normal and must penetrate your armor and damage resistances to impact your Health Points or Stamina just like any other attack. Quen can be used to defend against any spell which can be Blocked but is ineffective against damage caused by spells which cannot be Blocked or against damage caused by already being poisoned, having a disease, or suffocation due to a lack of oxygen in the surrounding area. You cannot cast Quen again until your current Quen shield has been exhausted or the duration ends. Range: Self Duration: 10 rounds or until exhausted Defense: NoneQuen -(Fire) STA Cost: Variable Effect: Igni throws out a wave of sparks and fire which does 1d6 damage per STA point spent and has a 50% chance of lighting anything it hits on fire. Igni always deals damage to the torso unless used at point blank range. When used at point blank range Igni can be aimed at body locations. Range: 2m Cone Duration: Immediate Defense: Dodge or BlockIgni -(Air) STA Cost: Variable Effect: Aard shoots a wave of telekinetic force, staggering creatures with a 10% chance of those affected being knocked prone. The percentage rises by 10% for each point of STA spent. Range: 2m Cone Duration: Immediate Defense: DodgeAard -(Water) STA Cost: Variable Effect: Axii stuns an opponent until they can make Stun save at -1. For every 2 points of additional STA you spend past 1, the Stun save becomes harder by 1 point. Range: 8m Duration: Until Shaken Off Defense: Resist MagicAxii Gear: -Sack -3 -Bedroll - 16 -WyvernDecoction formulae - 0 --Draconid oil -Necrophage oilOil formulae X2 - 0 --Golden Oriole -SwallowPotion Formulae X2 - 0 -Witcher medallion - 0 -Witcher steel sword - 0 -Witcher silver sword - 0 -Alchemy set - 0 -Horse - 0 -Double woven gambeson - 250 -Calvary trousers - 75 -8 crowns 6.) What if we roll some terrible stats for our characters? Feel free to distribute 60 points between your stats.

Player	Character	Race/Profession	Status
Humble Hero	Vladir of Maribor and Alyss Trilvath of Tretogor	Witcher and Ward	Complete
Silent Rain	Restle of Brugge	Human Mage	Complete
MagePcFan	Muirchertach Mac Noígíallach	Elf Mage	Complete
Ursinorum	Gezan vor Nemeth	Dwarf Man-At-Arms	Complete

[MagePcfan]

Hello,

I just saw your add and it looks interesting at least in story concept. I've only had one experience in the past with this system and it was on the previous site that I used to PBP and the whole experience left me... well deeply unsatisfied.

I love the world of the witcher, have played the games and read the books and some of the comics.

But the lack of control on character creation REALLY turned me off as I had a concept for a character and none of the rolls matched up to what I had in mind concept wise then I got really unlucky with the later portions of the life path and ended with 3 crippling curses that basically killed my interest in the game. Not sure if it was just the DM teaching me the system wrong.

But appart from the character creation. the rest of the system seemed solid and I liked the feel of the system from what I remembered.

So basically what I'm asking is there anyway we can pitch a concept and instead rolling life paths at every step... potentially ending up with something completely different then what we want to play, maybe pitch a concept and with GM imput and agreement, then pick the appropriate things good and bad that it would fall under in the character creation?

I have no problem adding some negatives and bad stuff to keep it balanced and fair. What really makes wary is the lack of control in creating the character backstory, origin and the stuff attached to it.

So I figure I'd just go ahead and ask.

[Silent Rain]

Posting interest. Going to be rolling up a mage.

[Humble Hero]

Here is my application (and rolls):

APPLICATION STATUS Completed. - [dice rolls] Apologies for the length. Turns out 103 years is a lot of lifepath events to fill out! Hah!

THE WITCHER Name: Vladir of Maribor Race: Witcher Profession: Witcher PERSONALITY Vladir is a product of his upbringing. Witchers have a reputation for being apathetic, cynical, and threatening... and this one is no different. At least to the outside world. While it is true that Vladir maintains a distance from others, even those considered acquaintances, he still has some moral beliefs that get emotional reactions from him. There is a common misconception that Witcher's lack empathy, which is true and is required to perform their duty, but still being partly human means there are emotions buried deep inside. Concerning the job, being a Witcher, Vladir is cold, calculated and unrelenting. He is able to separate the monster from the individual, and feels no remorse or hesitation when on a hunt. He was trained to strike fast and hard, to end a confrontation quickly before it could get out of hand - and he aims to do exactly that, every single time. Even monsters that have human halves, like Striga or or at least human appearanceBruxa, are treated with the same lack of empathy, so that Vladir can focus on the task at hand - breaking a curse, for example - and genuinely trying to save the person affected by it. Sometimes he succeeds, other times he doesn't. A job is a job. When it comes to strangers, Vladir is guarded. He knows well the stigma of Witchers, and how people have treated his kind in the past and present, so Vladir makes sure to maintain a low profile whenever he can. Still, on those times when he is engaged by others, Vladir can be best described as a social mirror - in that he will reflect what is ever sent his way, whether conversationally or through attitude and mannerisms. If someone is respectful, Vladir is respectful; if someone is insulting, Vladir is insulting; and if someone threatens his life... those people don't tend to make that mistake a second time. Still, Vladir is also extremely adept at allaying intense, bleak situations and isn't beyond trying to reason with people, to get them to leave without injury or incident. Still, Vladir is not without feeling. His emotions have been dulled, yes, but he is still a living breathing mutantperson that has human thoughts and reactions at times. And one thing Vladir cannot abide is the unnecessary cruelty of animals. He understands that some animals are food, or owned for labor, and he has no problem in that regard; but when someone purposefully intends to hurt a creature - such as laming a horse from mistreatment, or beating a hound for barking - Vladir can, and often will, step in and get involved. And of the few friends Vladir has, he feels much the same. His outward expression of emotion might not show it, but inwardly the Witcher has a deep concern for those he cares for - or even loves. Yes, despite everything people have heard, a Witcher can feel deep loyalty for others, it's just not often shown visibly. That said, Vladir has had some acquaintances in the past he would stand up for, but most are now dead. He also has his fellow Witchers, those from the Wolf School in Kaer Morhen, with whom Vladir has a brotherly fondness for. And lastly, his adoptive daughter, Alyss Trilvath, who the Witcher has vowed to protect with every fiber of his being, from both monster and man - though in Vladir's experience, man tends to be a monster, too. Especially when it comes to his daughter, Alyss, perhaps surprising to some is Vladir's warmth. In her influence, around her childlike energy, the Witcher becomes a little less cold and distant. He finds a faint smile on his face, perhaps a quip on his lips, and otherwise enjoys the young girl's presence. As one might expect of a parent - adoptive, or no - Vladir is willing to go to great lengths for Alyss, and has slowly but surely become more kind-hearted and caring for her over the last year of their travels. Finally, Vladir's century-long lifespan has him a world-weary man. He can seem gloomy and brooding sometimes, as he travels roads and paths for the hundredth time, while others might see the beauty of a newly discovered part of land. And despite his time as a hermit, when monsters were few and Witchers not needed, and were persecuted, Vladir is surprised by how little has actually changed in the world. Politically, Vladir remains neutral, as a Witcher should; he hunts creatures and gets paid, it's his lot in life and he is a man content with that. And perhaps foolishly, Vladir hopes that, in years to come, Witchers might have a second-coming and be seen as needed and respectable again, like the old days... APPEARANCE Vladir is a lean, fit man, who stands around 6 foot and who has been put through rigorous conditions for his lifestyle. Despite looking around 30, the Witcher's facial expressions and body mannerisms can often show the hardships of life. He is considerably older than his perceived years, and it isn't uncommon for Vladir to grunt or sigh when performing tasks as simple as standing from a chair. Perhaps it's habit, or just his age catching up with him, it's hard to say. Nonetheless, usually Vladir walks with a silent confidence, with no attempt at being imposing or intimidating unless he has to be. His walk is lithe, his manner quiet, and he aims to remain unseen and to blend in where he can. The Witcher has long dark hair, which is usually slicked back behind his ears or tied into a ponytail. He often has stubble, despite trying to keep it under control on the road, and angular features, specifically a strong jaw and chin, and surprisingly straight nose - hardly any breaks. He is arguably a handsome man, by some standards, though has a paleness to his skin that isn't quite natural; though his scowl and furrowed eyebrows can make him look more menacing than he intends. By far, the most obvious - and intimidating - characteristic is Vladir's bright yellow, cat-like eyes. A clear and obvious indication of being a Witcher, if there had been previous doubt. Across his body, Vladir has numerous scars. Some look impossible to have survived. The most visible are several on his face, one slash along his right cheek, one below his bottom lip, and another across his left eyebrow. On his body, he has some deep wounds; around his shoulders, across his back, and even two small tears at the base of his neck - courtesy of a vampire, no less. His forearms have small scars that crisscross the skin, and one thigh has a deep series of stab wounds from a Striga bite... though, admittedly, very few people have seen the scars beneath his clothing, save for Alyss (who has, at times, helped sew where Vladir couldn't reach), or the odd lady of the night. Vladir has very few outfits. When not on a hunt, he will wear light cloth shirts and comfortable leather pants, with leather boots. He has little care for color or design, and simply buys and wears what is convenient to that 'off-duty' comfort and suitability to training. When on a hunt, however, Vladir becomes an entirely different being; he wears layered leather and metal armor, a reinforced cuirass with an assortment of straps and belts and buckles, with attached pauldrons and a layered cloth half cloak and hood. He completes his hunting outfit with sturdy leather pants, with several hip pouches for his vials of potions, crossbow bolts, and other weaponry; while also using a pair of steel-capped and reinforced boots, which have extra deep sole grooves for added traction in all kinds of environments. The last defining characteristic for Vladir's hunting outfit are his twin swords - one steel, one silver. Both swords share the same design, and appear lovingly crafted, with a deep skill by the same hand to create both swords. The longswords are bright, untarnished and well-cared for, with fine and incredibly sharp double-edged blades. The cross-guards are shaped lengths of metal, with etched patterning that includes small wolf heads; additionally, the two quillons of the cross-guard are angled somewhat forward - toward the tip of the blade - to allow maximum hand and wrist movement for Vladir. The handles are tightly strapped and contoured leather, with reinforced metal rings, which give the Witcher a comfortable and firm grip on both weapons, while the pommels are a matching pair of wolf heads. The only difference between the two are that the silver sword is shinier and slightly smaller than its counterpart. BACKSTORY The history of Vladir of Maribor is a long tale, fraught with loss, grief, danger and threat. Little is known by most about the mutant Witcher, save what he willingly shares, and fewer still have earned his trust to know everything. In truth, Vladir himself has trouble recalling some of his past, as he is at least a century of age, and the world has changed so much in that time. Not only has the Witcher seen nations shift and realign borders, he has seen kingdoms and rulers destroyed, and the near extinction of monsters throughout the land. Vladir has seen the reputation of Witchers soar... and also come crashing down. He has witnessed the bitter sting of prosecution from a nation of people that no longer trust him, despite the hundreds of creatures he has killed to protect their very lives, and the renewed want for more Witchers as monsters returned over many years to threaten lives once more. Being so old, Vladir knows some prolific individuals in the world, as one might expect: Vesemir, the oldest Witcher, who took Vladir in and became like a father figure, training the boy. Geralt of Rivia, one of his Witcher brothers, took the Trial of the Grasses around the same time at Kaer Morhen, among others. He saw the arrival of Ciri, when she was brought to the Blue Mountains as a surprise child, and was aware of the search for Yennefer of Vengerberg, and did his part while traveling southwest to listen for information as to her whereabouts for Geralt. Yet, throughout his life so far, there have been instances - events - that are important, in some way, to Vladir. And some he has shared, mostly with his fellow Witcher brothers of Kaer Morhen, and others with his daughter. Yes, the Witcher has a child, adopted to be clear, and claimed by an ancient rite still respected throughout the lands to this day - the Law of Surprises. Still, that is getting ahead of the tale, the events, and everything should be told in its order for prosperity... Early Years Vladir was born to poor parents in Maribor, a large city of the region of the same name, which was located some 200 miles south of Vizima. Life was tough, but his parents loved him, and worked hard to provide what they could. His parents - their names forgotten to time, now - worked as fishermen, and would travel to the river Ina at the foot of the Mahakam Mountains for days at a time. The boy would accompany, but it would be several years later that he would remember the trips. What is more clear, is when Vladir was around the age of 3 or 4. He could remember traveling with his parents, their faces smiling and laughing, as they walked the long road for the day. He would poke the fish on the mud edge of the lake with sticks, would help by moving fish to the baskets and dropping them in, and would watch his father and mother standing along the Ina with rods in hand. It was a happy time... until it wasn't. From the mountain ranges nearby, a small group of Werebbubbs came upon the humans fishing the river, and attacked. The past had been unkind to the small, hairy creatures, and both elves and humans had killed many of their species - and this was all the reasoning the Werebbubbs needed, as they took to Vladir's parents with knives and spears. The boy was frightened, unable to move, and was near death as a hairy warrior approached to deliver the killing blow... but it never landed. Out of nowhere, a tall human stepped into view, sword flashing in the sunlight. The Werebbubbs didn't stand a chance, they were pushed back and retreated, as a Witcher defended the now orphaned child, who's parents lay dead on the river edge. The mutant regarded Vladir, took pity on him, and picked the boy up in his strong arms and said: "Hello, little one. I am Vesemir... and I will take you to a safe place. I will care for you." That place was the Wolf School for Witchers, located in the Blue Mountains at Kaer Morhen. It would also be where Vladir would grow, put under rigorous training exercises, and given mutagenic mushrooms in preparation for his transformation into a Witcher. And it turned out, the boy's body was suited to the effect, as he proved resilient to the mushrooms and was doubly prepared for the Trial of the Grasses. Vladir was not the only one, either, as other Witchers-to-be would be given the same test alongside the Ina river orphan - Geralt of Rivia, Eskel, Lambert and Coën of Poviss, to name a few. The trial was torture. Some died, Vladir didn't. His body was broken down, physically, by the mutagens and reformed as something different and superior to humans. But that wasn't the only trial to survive, as after that came two others. The next, the Trial of Dreams, which gave Vladir's cat eyes their night-vision, and other biological changes, including sterility. The last, the Trial of the Mountains, was the hardest in some ways... it forced the trainee to remember, and essentially relive, the past trials and to see if they remembered what had been taught and experienced. Years later, Vesemir would comment that it was likely the boy's memories of his parents, of happy times as a child, that helped him pass the ordeal. And to this day, Vladir is reluctant to share the event, as the pain and the experience were traumatic beyond words. A Young Witcher; Ages 20-50 Training continued, adaptation to his new body and senses commenced, and Vladir grew. He was skilled with a sword, he could pass the gauntlets for training by this point with one eye closed, and he was eager - like his fellow newly made Witchers - to venture out and make a name for himself. And at the age of 20, Vladir got that chance, as Master Vesemir announced his training complete and his permission to leave Kaer Morhen. For the next 10 years, Vladir would travel the continent. He killed a number of creatures, mostly simple or weak ones, ones that didn't earn him much in the way of crowns. Still, being so eager, Vladir was willing to take on bigger risks and accepted a job for a nobleman in Vizima. The contract involved hunting down a Grave Hag that had taken up residence in a mansion on the outskirts of the large city, near the estate family graveyard, where it had killed the household workers and even the nobleman's cousin before creating a skull circle. The fight was brutal, and very trying, but Vladir came out the victor with deep scars along his arms for his trouble. The nobleman, unable to part with crowns at the time for business reasons, vowed to owe the Witcher handsomely, to which Vladir accepted the terms to collect later. Some years later, in his mid 30s, Vladir encountered a deadly opponent. A contract was made in Cidaris, a coastal town, that claimed a creature of the night hunted the locals. The Witcher arrived and soon deduced the monster was none other than a Fleder vampire; and what followed was a fight unlike any Vladir had experienced before, as he literally fought for his very life. He managed to concoct his potions, including one laced with silver, and fooled the bloodsucker into trying to bite his neck - which it did - and promptly weakened the beastly thing. Using his silver sword and the Igni sign, Vladir was able to bring the creature to its knees, and plunged his sword through its heart. And once the monster was at his mercy, the Witcher set it ablaze, and watched it burn to death. Another successful hunt against a frightening foe, and without serious injury, save some new scars and a pair of bite marks to the neck. However, in a cruel twist of fate, some important pieces had gone missing from a local merchants home during the event - stolen by whom, no one could say. Yet, when it came time to pay the young Witcher for his service, the locals instead accused Vladir of being a thief; they claimed the mutant had taken silver, jewelry and other expensive items and refused to pay. So, in order to avoid lawful involvement, and possible imprisonment, Vladir reluctantly left the coastal city with nothing to show for his successful hunt... In his 40s, Vladir was hired by a Duchess for a job. He proceeded to clear a swarm of encroaching Drowners, which had started to appear at her local lake near her family lands. The job was butchers work, honestly, but it paid and gave Vladir some practice. He also became acquaintances with the Duchess, even stayed on for a while to make sure no Drowners returned, before he moved on to other lands and more work. To this day, Vladir believes the Duchess is alive, if a lot older. An Witcher Turned Hermit; Ages 50-80 One of the best decades for the Witcher was in his 50s. The instability of Governments to the south had forced people north, which had brought increased activity and contracts, as families and communities spread out into unclaimed lands. Vladir was able to work for most of that decade, pulling in multiple jobs, and walked away back to Kaer Morhen with a tidy sum - over 500 crowns, all told. When in his 60s, Vladir encountered an odd mage in a tavern, while on his travels. The wizened old fool - by only a handful of years, compared to Vladir - had gotten himself into some trouble with some local shop owners. They insisted some magic work hadn't worked, and their headquarters still had Drowners popping up, even with the 'magic wards' in place. Vladir decided to do the job correctly. He cleared the dwellings of the monsters, made sure they wouldn't come back, then charged the mage the cost. The older man reluctantly paid, before the pair spent some time talking in the tavern for a few days. Turned out the mage's name was Ebenezer and he planned to head north to offer his services in Vizima; which Vladir suggested was a bad idea, since that city looked like a soon-to-be sieged location... but, the old fool didn't care, and they parted ways not long after. Sadly, the Witcher learned a month or so later, that old Ebenezer hadn't made it north, and had been attacked and killed by bandits along the way. Times were dangerous. From around the age of 75, Vladir had started to venture less and less into the world. He had seen the increased hostility and hatred toward Witchers and felt it was time to remain secluded for a while, to see if tensions would improve or worsen. That made living difficult, as a hermit, as Vladir had a strict traditional belief that a Witcher wouldn't be a mercenary; but with crowns running out he didn't know if he could stand to be so self-righteous... It was a tough decade. In his late 80s, Vladir was fortunate enough to come across a very lucrative contract. One for a Relict, a monster from the very nature of the land itself. A deadly opponent, one worth a lot of crowns. So, low on funds, the Witcher accepted and went to the location of the supposed creature, which was near a town south of Brokillon Forest. Yet, on arrival, it seemed the Relict had been killed... and in its place, seemingly present to claim the reward, was a mercenary group. Their leader, a young woman by the name of Siza, was shocked to see the Witcher. The contractor was even more shocked, when Vladir revealed the Relict - after closer inspection - had been long since dead, and was likely an old kill from another Witcher. The mercenaries had planned to con the locals, to take their crowns, for a job already completed; and it seemed Vladir's timely arrival had foiled their plan. Siza was furious, she attacked with her men, and the fight was brutal and bloody, and ended with Siza stabbing Vladir in the back while he fought other fighters while surrounded. Yet, with the use of Witcher signs and the arrival of some more armed locals, the fight ended as abruptly as it had begun. Vladir was severely wounded, though would survive, but the same couldn't be said for Siza's men. All of them lay dead, struck down by the mutant, though the leader herself had managed to escape. And for several years, Vladir tried to keep ears out about Siza's movements, but little was available to share. So, much to Vladir's chagrin, he was left with a potentially deadly enemy unaccounted for... A Witcher Returned; Ages 90-103 While living his hermit existence, Vladir still took the odd contract for a Witcher. He took up residence along the Ina river, where his parents had died, and helped small communities and towns fend off any hostile monsters. He encountered some Werebbubbs, which provided a particular level of professional pride to dispatch, but otherwise managed to stay afloat with his meager earnings. When traveling northwest on horseback, toward Dorndal, the Witcher crossed a commonly used merchant road. It was then that he heard a commotion. The monsters were unmistakable, and Vladir rushed ahead, where he saw a man on a horse being surrounded by a group of Nekkers. The foul little beasts were on the animal in moments, as they crawled from the ground and attacked with teeth and claws; the merchant, from the look of him and his wagon, was thrown to one side with wounds to the leg. Silver sword flashed, monsters let out inhuman noises of pain, and the Witcher carved a mess through the group of attacking creatures. One after the other they fell, as Vladir moved with a grace, as though he hadn't been in seclusion at all. Unfortunately, by the time the fight was done, the horse was dead, but thankfully the rider lived. Not being one to intervene and demand reward, Vladir bid the stranger safe travels, before he made to move on. The man introduced himself as Lord Surry Trilvath. He also asked if the Witcher wanted a reward, which Vladir declined, but some pride caused the nobleman to insist - even though he had been robbed of his possessions and crowns not days earlier. Lord Trilvath spoke of insisting, to which the Witcher simple said - "Very well. Make me an offer." - and the nobleman exclaimed - "I offer the Law of Surprise. You can claim it, when I return home, to my hounds and family." - to which the Witcher nodded: "Agreed. I claim the first thing that comes to greet you, on your return home." Though, not to leave the wounded Lord on the road, Vladir offered Netty's saddle to the man and took him to Dorndal. They parted ways, after the Lord Trilvath continued to talk of his beloved dogs that always greeted him on his return home, and his family. The Witcher assumed it was not-so-subtle hinting at earning a hound for a reward, so Vladir decided to leave the bond be and to return to his secluded lifestyle; since the last thing an out-of-work and hermit Witcher needed was another mouth to feed, Netty's hay cost enough. And so, Vladir continued to exist in a similar state. He took odd jobs, traveled a small range from Maribor and the Ina river, but largely kept to himself. The war threatened the region, rumors of battle already started to the north, and it wasn't a stable land to live in. It wasn't until some years later, when he was around 102, that Vladir was approached by a stranger. He claimed to be from House Trilvath of Tretogor, with an urgent request, a summons. The family name sounded familiar, and crowns seemed to be on offer, so Vladir took the summons and made his way to the estate to the north. On arrival, he met with Lady Trilvath, a beautiful woman that seemed insistent on speaking privately - and the Witcher almost turned around, save the mention of the Law of Surprise. In a small sitting room, Vladir listened as Lady Trilvath explained her concerns, and the want for him to claim his reward. But, unlike what was expected, the claim would be the family's firstborn, a young girl named Alyss. Not inclined to agree or press the claim, Vladir declined, however the noblewoman kept insisting, and eventually said she was terrified of the approaching war and danger her family would be in. And that her daughter, no matter how hard it was to admit, would be safer under the protection of a fighter - a Witcher. Not only that, but there was no knowing what might happen to the nobles in the city, so the Trilvath's would leave and would struggle with their other two children and no wealth other than what they could carry. It was then that Lord Trilvath appeared. He shared a look with the Witcher, one both parents had, and Vladir knew the decision was made. He claimed his Law of Surprise, and accepted his adopted daughter, his ward, with the intention of keeping her protected from the northern war that spread. For the first time, the pair met, and Alyss' parents explained the situation, which was met with confusion and anger, though Vladir excused himself for the evening and left the family to their conversations. The next morning, Alyss was ready. She had packed a small traveling pack, and her family had said their goodbyes, before also preparing to leave Tretogor. The two families traveled the south road for a time, together, with Alyss on Netty in front of Vladir, and the four remaining Trilvath's on their wagon. But, when they reached Devil's Ford, it was time to part ways... and Vladir ignored the gentle sobs from the girl on the horse before him, as he glanced one last time at the noble family, before looking ahead and never looking back. Vladir's first words to his adoptive daughter were a vow: "You will be safe. I promise." And the sobs lessened.

CHILD BY LAW OF SURPRISES Name: Alyss Trilvath of Tretogor Race: Human Profession: Witcher Ward/Adopted Daughter PERSONALITY Alyss is brave, determined, and a little naïve. She has a very expressive and extroverted personally, confident and open to speaking with anyone. It isn't uncommon to see Alyss approaching people in small towns, who are going about their business, and asking a number of questions about them or what they're doing. She is very inquisitive, wants to learn everything she can about anything around her, and approaches every situation with a carefree innocence that - thankfully - hasn't gotten her hurt. Yet. When Alyss sees others' lives, she doesn't quite understand the differences of social status, or how people can struggle just to survive on a daily basis. Her upbringing until the age of 9 had her living in a modest lesser noble family home, so that same childhood has instilled some unrealistic - and incorrect - influence over her opinions and thoughts about some things. Generally Alyss can be considered empathetic and considerate, but she can also be very naïve and stubborn when she wants to be. When it comes to Alyss' adoptive parent, Vladir, she has grown trusting and fond of him. The lessons he has taught her over the last year, combined with being cared for - clothing, food, shelter and small gifts - has earned admiration; and as such, Alyss looks up to her Witcher, and listens to him with respect and attentiveness... for the most part. She still thinks he should show more emotion and maybe give her a hug every so often, but a part of her knows that he is 'different', but still isn't sure how. Even at such a young age, Alyss understands to some degree the seriousness of Valdir's job, that he hunts dangerous monsters, and that whenever she is told to run or hide she must do it. And to further drive that understanding home, a previous interaction with a kikimore that almost tore into her with its fangs; thankfully, Vladir was close at hand and dispatched the creature, but it proved to reinforce the Witcher's commands when it came to being around monsters or dangerous things, and Alyss has taken that lesson to heart. Alyss also thinks she might want to be a Witcher. APPEARANCE Alyss is a fairly typical looking young human girl of 10 years of age. She has long dark hair, to the middle of her back, and deep brown eyes that are quick to show emotion, as well as a small button nose and rosy cheeks. Her face could be described as expressive by those that meet her, and Alyss makes no attempts to hide that fact, even if it can lead to some interesting interactions. For someone so young, Alyss is very outgoing. She has the self-confidence of her age, tempered with the safety provided by a skilled adoptive parent, and generally finds few who are willing to chide her - especially in the face of her Witcher keeper. As such, Alyss walks with purpose, expressive and energetic in her movements, and isn't afraid to show some dramatic flair. She also loves to run, and seems to have boundless physical energy when it comes to moving around, and it's a hobby that Valdir has encouraged - though probably for she for fun, he to have her escape dangervery different reasons than Alyss thinks. Standing at around four-and-a-half feet, Alyss would be considered average in growth and height for her age range, is lean, but not malnourished, and slight of frame for her age. Her clothing is modest and not too fashionable, mainly consisting of simple skirts and vests, with knitted sweaters for the colder seasons. Her shoes, however, are of a fine leather quality and have been clearly used in travels on the road. The colors of her clothing vary, she doesn't seem to display a preference, and her keeper (Vladir) makes sure Alyss has whatever she needs, at reasonable cost. One personal keepsake that Alyss holds dear is a small silver ringlet, similar to a very simple headband, that she has been told to keep hidden whenever around others... BACKSTORY Alyss was born to a middle-class noble family, the Trilvath's, who owned a manor in the city of Tretogor in the north regions. She was the first child of Lord Surry and Lady Layla Trilvath, and would grow to have two younger siblings - Kent and Lauren Trilvath, who were equal parts loving and mischievous. Her family, the Trilvaths, were a proud family, one known for being reliable and fair merchants, and after a number of years were able to begin a successful supplying business. This, in turn, elevated the Trilvath's status and they were able to increase their influence in court and with other noble families. When Alyss was old enough, around 5, she was given her first horse. The city of Tretogor was well-known for its annual horse competition, the Grand Tretorian, and it was no surprise that many a rich child wanted a pony or horse for themself. As she grew, Alyss continued to experience a wholly pleasant childhood, she was well educated, and cared for thanks to the status of her family in the city. While Alyss wasn't selfish or demanding, she still enjoyed gifts on regular occasion, and came to anticipate the times her father returned home from travel with a knickknack in hand - though, to be fair, her knickknacks were rich in taste and her father spoiled the girl. The pair were close, and Lord Trilvath promised that one day he would take Alyss on his merchant travels, when she was older. And to make his daughter, and the other children, feel better about his long absences, Lord Trilvath provided them with a litter of puppies. The children were overjoyed, and helped the pups grow into well-behaved hounds. And every time the father of the manor returned, the hounds were out the gate and rushed to meet him, followed closely by the children. It was one of the most pleasant moments Lord Trilvath enjoyed after every journey. Around the age of 7, Alyss was informed of an accident. Her father, while on the roads south of the city, had been attacked by some creature. Word had been passed via courier to Lady Trilvath, who had been told that Lord Trilvath continued to recover in a small town, until he was able to travel. His horse, sadly, had died. And almost a week later, Lord Trilvath returned to the manor grounds, where he was immediately greeted by Alyss - though the man seemed suddenly despondent and saddened... and when asked why, Lord Trilvath brushed it off as pain in his leg, which had suffered a large gash. The truth was much worse. Some days later, Lord Trilvath explained to his wife that his ordeal had involved a Witcher. That, when the creatures had attacked the Lord on the horse, the mysterious stranger had arrived moments later and fought off the group. It had also been revealed that the merchant had been robbed by bandits mere days before, so his luck had felt especially soiled, and when the Witcher had expressed no need for payment the Lord Trilvath had insisted on something. So, the mysterious mutant had simply said "Very well. Make me an offer." to which Lord Trilvath had replied - thinking of the hounds that greeted him on his return - with a reassuring "I offer the Law of Surprise. You can claim it, when I return home, to my hounds and family.", to which the Witcher nodded "Agreed. I claim the first thing that comes to greet you, on your return home." Both expected the reward to be a hound, in truth. For many weeks, the Trilvath family waited. And waited. And waited still. But no Witcher appeared to claim his reward. Whether because the mysterious individual was dead, delayed or simply never intended to take the reward was uncertain, but both Lord and Lady Trilvath were relieved. And soon months turned into years, and soon the bonded agreement was forgotten. Yet, not every deal happens because of its agreed conditions. And around one year ago, amid the rumors and threat of oncoming war in the north, the Lady Trilvath summoned Vladir to the family manor. It took many messengers several months to locate the mutant, but eventually the Witcher arrived. She greeted him politely but quickly, and explained that things looked dire for the region and that with the threat of war looming, Lady Trilvath wanted him to accept his gift by Law of Surprises. That gift was Alyss Trilvath. As the girl had been first to greet her father on his return. Not the hounds, as they might have done before. And by rite and bond, the family were indebted to offer their firstborn, their daughter. Though, Lady Trilvath did mention that she felt Vladir would prove a far safer protector for young Alyss, and that the Witcher's lifestyle of constantly traveling the land - and continually moving - would help lead Alyss away from the dangers of widespread war in the north. Alyss was shocked, initially, but there was no dissuading her mother, and no amount of arguing or begging could change her mind. Lady Trilvath ordered her daughter to pack some things - "Though not much, only enough to place on a horse." - and then held a small family dinner, wherein Alyss was with her parents before the planned departure the morning after. It was a bittersweet meal, as parents and child recalled fond memories, and hinted at the future and the adventures Alyss would have, and how the Witcher would keep her safe with his life. And on that next morning, Vladir became Alyss' adoptive parent. And with a tearful goodbye to her family, her home, and everyone she knew, the young girl set off with the mysterious yellow-eyed man who hunted monsters...

ROLEPLAY SAMPLE The road that leads to Asheberg. The steady clip-clop of hooves was endless, almost hypnotic, as a lone horse walked the dirt road with two atop its back. Gray in color, with saddlebags across the flank, the obedient creature showed no discomfort, despite the heavier load. Though, admittedly, the horses' riders were a grown man - lean and lithe of body - and a girl of around ten years old - thin and lanky like any growing child - so the burden wasn't distressing. As the trio made their way, the riders draped in cloaks against the cool evening weather, a young voice could be heard. The girl, she spoke excitedly, as she pointed ahead, to a distant town that could be seen several miles ahead. It was lit by burning lamp light, though it wasn't a large community by any standards, and was simply a stop over on a longer journey the pair shared. "That's it, right?" The girl said, finger strained as she pointed, almost like she could touch the place. She looked with brown eyes, large in the dim, as her black hair caught the breeze. "That's Asheberg!" "Right," The man replied, as he let out a slow exhale. He hunched, arms protectively around the girl in front of him on the saddle. He held the horse reins loosely in gloved hands, as he opened his eyes - bright yellow, cat eyes - and looked to where the finger indicated. "For the third time. Asheberg, yes." "How long til we get there? An hour? More?" Alyss asked, the previous answer satisfactory, but wanting to know more immediately. She looked down to the back of the horses' head, before she reached out to pat the rough hair behind horse ears. "Will Netty make it all the way? Does one of us need to walk? And where are we stopping for the night, is it a nice inn?" Vladir, the Witcher, groaned to himself, as he reached up to rub his eyes. Sometimes his daughter could wear him thin, especially after a hunt not a day prior. The mutant was recovering, he wanted to lay his head down and rest, but couldn't deny the energy and excitement of the girl... she would only keep asking. "Soon. About half the hour." The Witcher said in a low voice. He squinted into the night, to his left, as he heard distant howling. "And Netty's fine. If she starts breathing oddly, it means she's winded, and I'll walk... and we're stopping at the Wolf Head Tavern. It's comfortable enough." "Oooh, Wolf Head? Like your swords!" "...sure." "Did you clean your sword by the way? I didn't see if you did, after yesterday." "I did. I always do--" "Can you show me how to clean them? I can help out, if you're tired or wounded, and take care of the blades." "Mayb--" "That means no." Alyss hmmph'd, and turned her head to look back at her adoptive parent. "I can be careful, you know. I won't cut myself." "Remains to be seen," Vladir said dryly, as he glanced down to match the stare. "You still whack yourself with the training sword--" "Only because you make me do really fast spins!" Alyss interrupted quickly, to make her point, but the Witcher continued anyway: "--and I've told you a hundred times, my swords aren't like normal swords. The blades are finer, sharper, and I don't want you seriously hurting yourself. Okay?" Alyss sighed as she turned and faced forward. She pouted, but didn't protest. She couldn't, really, when Vladir made sense like that. Besides, sometimes it was better to wait, and fight another battle another day - and then she would ask again. "Answer's still no." The Witcher said, as he smirked and glanced down, seeing Alyss' shoulders hunch in annoyance. He looked ahead to Asheberg. It was closer now, soon to arrive. "When we get to town, unsaddle Netty while I sort out our rooms." "Fine... but--" "Don't worry," It was Vladir's turn to interrupt. He eased back in the saddle, and gave in to the horses' stride like someone who lived on the back of the animal. "I'll be right inside the inn. If I even smell something out of place, I'll be right beside you." "Alright," Alyss smiled, as she pulled the cloak tighter around her. "Okay." And onward the trio traveled. Asheberg almost within throwing distance, Netty was comfortable and walking without strain, and Alyss was finally quiet, which left Vladir to enjoy some solitude despite the cramped proximity of his family. And then, they would finally a warm and comfortable place to rest for the night...

[Hal Hammerhand]

Public Service Announcement: you may choose the outcome of one roll if you feel like the initial result doesn't speak to you or you would like a certain aspect for your character.

[Silent Rain]

Name: Restle of Brugge
Race: Human
Profession: Mage

Personality: Restle is easy going and not quick to pass judgment on others, including the pointiness of ones ears, unlike much of the North. Due to a curse laid upon him as a child, causing others to mistrust him, Restle has long since learned to keep to himself. Despite this, he will go out of his way to help others, even though he will likely get little in the way of thanks. He has become accustomed to living on the road and rarely stays in one place very long. Because he has no true destination in mind, his wanderings are often left to chance.

Appearance: Although a mage, Restle does not dress in the flowing robes and finer clothes typical to others of his profession. Besides the fact that mages are hated by much of the North, he finds such attire impractical, and much rather prefers simple travel clothes and light armor. In addition, he still carries a sword, which he is more than capable of wielding if choosing to avoid using magic.

 

Restle was born into a large family of traveling entertainers. Though perhaps not with the panache of a bard, Restle's family still possessed more than adequate skill at music, song, and weaving a tale or two. The younger children that did not perform, alleviated the crowd of loose coin purses.

Such was the fate of Restle, whose lithe fingers would deftly untie even the toughest of knots without so much as a notice. That was however, until he attempted to pilfer the purse of a woman standing to the read of a crowd. Somehow she knew he was there and caught his arm in the act. Her eyes bore down on him with a shrewd look.

She muttered something about no one ever trusting him ever again and began speaking in a strange tongue. From that moment on, Restle found that most people were never keen on trusting the boy, always thinking that he was up to no good.

Restle had just passed his fifteenth birthday when his mother informed him that there was elven blood in his veins. Not enough to be noticeable, she said, but enough that it could cause trouble for the family if their secret ever got out. She mentioned it after he questioned her why she always went out of her way to help the elves whenever she could.

When Restle was nearing his eighteenth birthday, he got into an argument with two of his younger brothers. They kept going on and on about something and he wished they would just stop prattling on. To their and Restle's horror, their mouths began to seal shut until fully closed over with skin. They began to cry and wine through their nose.

A whooshing sound was herd a few minutes later, revealing a circular portal and a man stepping through. He quickly restored the boys' mouths back to their proper state, and introduced himself as Dorregaray, the rector of Ban Ard Academy. He explained that Restle had just had what was referred to as a conduit moment; he had unwittingly channeled chaos. Dorregaray explained that Restle would continue to have events such as this and was not safe without proper training. He left for Ban Ard that day, but before he left, his mother handed him a small purse of coin and wished her son well.

His training had been underway for several years when he was outside the city walls in the surrounding forest, gathering herbs required for his botany class, when he heard an alluring voice from somewhere off the road toward Badger Ravine. He found an elf there, who had been singing to herself in a small glade. Unfortunately, Restle was not the only one to have heard her. A pair of men also appeared, looking for the source of the music and smiled with evil intent at the sight of the elf.

There would have been serious consequences had he used magic to harm another, especially so close to Ban Ard, so he instead fought the men, taking one of their short swords for himself. Although his attacks were far from pretty, they were functional enough and he dispatched the pair.

The elf introduced herself as Lieffa and, despite Restle's expectations to the contrary, hugged him and thanked him. Apparently his selfless act had a way of countering the curse still laid upon him. Lieffa swore she would ever forget his kindness, and Restle learned that not all issues can be solved with magic, and took the sword he had used back with him to the Academy.

Several years later, Restle completed his studies from Ban Ard, but now found himself wandering aimless. The curse that hung from his shoulders prevented anyone from trusting him at court, and he had no desire to pursue the more academic nature of magic. Instead, for the next decade or so, he found himself wandering from one brothel to the next, desperately trying to fill the void he found tugging at his soul.

During this time, Restle learned that Lieffa had been captured and was currently being held with a group of elves, believing them to be Scoia'tael. He could do little himself, but eventually gained the ear of Duke Hereward of Ellander. Although he was reticent to send his own Knights of the ORder of the White Rose, he did dispatch a band of mercenaries to raid the camp and free the elves detained there, including Lieffa. Surprisingly, the Duke remained friendly toward Restle, likely maintaining the relationship in case he were ever in need of a mage.

The years that followed saw Restle continue his wandering, though recently he found himself moving ever northward to avoid the encroaching Nilfgaardian army.

 

It had been raining for the better part of an hour and Restle's mood was about as foul as the weather. He trudged through the cobbled city streets, the light from the oil lamps reflecting off the nearby pools of water collecting in the uneven ground, though doing little to dispel the surrounding darkness.

Despite his hood being drawn and the steady rapping of the rain, he still managed to hear a stifled scream coming from the nearby alley. He moved to where it opened into the street and peered down its dark length. The shapes of what appeared to be several men escorting a woman, a not by her choice, it seemed, could be barely seen.

Restle sighed. This was not his problem, and he knew he should just keep walking. Damn, he thought, knowing that he also couldn't.

As he rounded a turn in the alley, he found the men huddled around a hooded lantern, the woman he had heard attempting unsuccessfully to squirm away from their grasp. They laughed and Restle could see the yellow of their teeth and the lustful desire in their eyes. Any reservations he had about what was about to happen fluttered away like smoke on the wind.

"How about you gentlemen leave her be and I'll buy you all a round," he offered, the training of a diplomat still firmly ingrained in him.

The men stopped and peered at the man making demands of them. Piss off, one of them spat.

Restle had already been casting while the thugs had offered their retort. I'm afraid we can't do that, he replied.

"We," another man asked, confused, before seeing several images of Restle stepping into the light cast by the lantern.

Gut these ****ers, another thug shouted. Short blades and knives were pulled, all glinting in the light as they began their attack. Most swung at nothing but air, finding the images of Restle to be nothing more than than that. One however, managed to swing at the real one.

Restle moved to parry and suddenly there was a sword in his hand, where none had existed before. Decades of practice were more than a match for this lot. His weapon parried the blade, swung it wide, and slashed a long gash down the man's chest.

Restle's images did their job as he mage quick work of the rest, save for the last one, which must have been their leader, as he was bigger than the rest and more proficient with his blade.

"You're going to pay for this, mage," he threatened through gritted teeth, having finally put together the nature of his enemy.

Their blades parried several times, until the thug's blade began to glow red with intense heat. He screamed and dropped the blade where it fell to the wet stones below, hissing as it cooled in the rain.

The man turned to run, but Restle sent a strong gust of wind at him, knocking him against the alley wall with incredible force, where he crumbled into a pile onto the floor.

The sword was gone as quickly as it had appeared and Restle approached the girl.

"Are you alright", he asked.

She looked at him and Restle mentally sighed as he could see the power of his curse changing her perception of him, reflected in her eyes.

"Get away from me," she screamed and ran off down the other side of the alley.

"And your welcome," he added before trudged off back in the direction he had been going.

Rolls

[MagePcfan]

*work in progress, will update with all requested details over the next few days, comments and critiques are welcome*

Muirchertach Mac Noígíallach

Nilfgaardian chronicler, scout and sorcerer

Quote:"In Nilfgaard an Aen Seidhe can walk the streets and be an equal citizen, but slavery exists. We boast the finest scientists, the most sophisticated culture, and the most educated of people in the World. And yet mages are collared and expected to be servants of the Empire regardless of their wishes. We strive for enlightenment and sophistication, yet the Empire seeks to grow by bringing every nation under the Great Sun to heel using the brutal tool of military conquest. There is no good place in this world, only places better for certain people and less so for others..."

Name: Muirchertach Mac Noígíallach
Species: Aen Seidhe (elf)
Sex: Male
Age: 46
Profession: Mage

 

Quote: "I'm sorry, I sense you have not quite grasped what I have explained to you. My apologies, If you wish, I will explain it again, differently this time, that you may understand."

Muirchertach life experiences have imposed upon him a healthy tolerance for unexpected tragedy and adversity. In such events, he learned that the only way to move pass it is to go through it. He is patient, stoic and determined in all things. He doesn't anger easily and he likewise doesn't laugh easily. From his education in magic, he learned the importance of keeping an open mind, of approaching challenges with methodical precision and a gentle, careful approach. He avoids making assumptions without sufficient evidence, endeavors to gather enough facts before drawing conclusions and only acts when he is confident his actions will have the desired result.

Privately, he is also somewhat lonely. Being a mage in Nilfgaard is not for the faint of heart. Mages are heavily scrutinized, always watched and expected to serve society. And given the profession that fate trust upon him. It is difficult to find others to relate to, commiserate on the challenges of a life filled with arcane mysteries or share in the wonders and terrors this world opened up to him.

This life under strict and heavy policing has always imposed upon him a desire to be as unobtrusive and non-threatening as possible. He chooses his words carefully, attempts as much as possible to avoid offense or engender strong reactions and most of all tries to avoid trouble when possible. While he doesn't let it show, the possibility of being chained in dimetrium, burned on a pyre or murdered just for being who he is has more then once kept him awake at night.

Muirchertach has a dry, reserved sense of humor that stings like the angriest of hornets. He tries to keep this aspect of his personality in check to avoid offense, yet thoroughly enjoys every moment of it. On the few occasions where he has a proper sparring companion, he gleefully enters in duels of verbal wit, sarcasm and biting comebacks.

He tries to keep an open mind yet he is not without his biases. He generally has dim views of the uneducated, the superstitious and the religious. He finds such people as holding to naive, childish visions of the world he has no time for. Likewise, he detests racism, sexism and those who would belittle others for being different even as he still privately holds to the common view in his nation that Nilfgaard is a more enlightened and sophisticated then the North despite it's flaws.

If there is one thing he is sore about it's his relationship with fellow elves and elven culture, particularly any pretense other Aen Seidhe may claim to kinship with him based on the fact. Abandoned as he was as a child to be educated by the imperial institution that trains all mages with only dim memories of his cultural traditions from before his parents handed him over to Nilfgaard. With the rest coming from what he was taught in the academy or what he researched in texts and books. He has a difficult time on occasion considering himself Aen Seidhe and as much as he doesn't admit it, it hurts him a lot more inside then he'd ever say.

 

Muirchertach is tall and athletic with the fine features and high cheek bones typical of his species. He has black hair he keeps at shoulder length, free and untied. He has a penetrating gaze, bright with intelligence. His eyes are deep blue. He moves with the feline grace that is gifted to the Aen Seidhe.

He dresses in the typical dark colors favored by Nilgaardian culture in most occasions, preferring practical attire and avoiding ostentatious finery. On most occasions, dressing choosing the elegant yet conservative attire of a scholar and researcher. He only dons the expected colorful robes typical of wizards on occasions that call for it, such as attending events of the Imperial Mage academy or when official protocol would demand such garments.

In accordance with his desire to be as non-threatening as possible, he rarely carries any weapon beyond a long knife and keeps it sheathed at all times unless forced to defend himself.

When interacting with others, Muirchertach is polite, reserved and calm. He projects serenity and self-control. He speaks with crisp, precise words, choosing his responses carefully. Ideally, addressing his interlocutors in their native tongue if he himself also speaks it as a show of respect. Always he strives to respect proper etiquette and avoiding offense.

 

Quote: "When those who give you life were not wanted in their own home. It is easy to understand why they may not have desired to give life to another generation."

Muirchertach born in Ebbing in 1226 at a time when it was still a free nation. He is the only child of a poor elven couple who made their living as healers and herbalists. Like many Aen Seidhe of the nation, they resided in the non-human ghettos of the capital. Thanks to their craft and their ability to heal, they avoided some of the racism that others suffered, if only because they were useful to more then just non-humans. Muirchertach was born on the coldest winter night of that year, a night his mother describe as: "so frigid it was only the warmth of a living body that prevented a person from freezing in place".

Muirchertach childhood was relatively peaceful despite his living conditions, his parents doing everything they can to insulate him from the worst of the poor relations between the different species living in the capital. He remembers sharply many events of that time that even to this day leave him with questions. Such as the time he returned home from playing with neighborhood friends and overheard the tail end of his mother and father arguing:

"He has the same blue eyes as him Blodeuwedd! What if he isn't mine?!" his father screamed, his voice a mix of terror and anger.
"He's yours because you're the one raising him Penllyn!" Muirchertach mother retorted back with frustrated weariness.
His father raised his hands defensively, "That's... not what I meant. I meant what if he has the Gift? As far as we know neither of our blood has ever had the gift. But he did and they wouldn't leave someone with the gift out of their reach!" he said, trembling just a bit.
"He's been nothing but a normal child. You're afraid of things that might happen, instead of focusing on what is happening! I'm done with this argument, again" his mother replied with annoyance.
And then they noticed he was listening. They pretended as if they'd never been having this argument in the first place. They never said a word about it, never explained anything, leaving him to wonder forever.

in 1239 Ebbing was annexed by Nilfgaard, and Muirchertach's family watched as the black armored troops besieged the capital city, they hid as much as possible from the violence. Battles in the street, were routine in the weeks that followed and with it starvation and tensions. Eventually during another period of detente in between outbursts of fighting, the common folk rioted. They were tired of the fighting, tired of the dying and tired of the nobility's hoarding of food and resources. The non-humans of Ebbing had up until now, been trying their best to stay of the fighting and safe in their quarter. But as is often the case in times of crisis, racial tensions flared and the rioters found their way into Muirchertach street, were they set ablaze many homes and killed people he'd known all his life. It was also when his magic awakened. Two men armed with torches and knives burst into his parent's home to rob them. When his father and mother tried to fight them off while he watched helplessly. He felt a surge of power well up with him and a shiver run down up his spine. And the next he knew, he extended his and a blast of glimmering ice lashed out from his hands and froze the robber solid. "The kid's a witch!" screamed the man in terror as he dropped everything and ran out of their home.

His parent's both looked at him in shock and horror, "Oh no! oh no! oh no!" his mother repeated over and over and over as she rushed to him and hugged him tighter then she'd ever ever had in his life. Just little more then a week later, the city folded and the leaders of the resistance against the invaders were publicly executed. Ebbing was now a vassal of Nilfgaard. In typical Nilfgaardian tradition, they quickly set to work pacifying the city, replacing all officials with individuals that would serve Niflgaard and taking stock of the population. The non-human population of Ebbing waited in baited breath as they expected the new rulers to continue the traditions of the North to oppress them. But Nilfgaard was different, and within a few months public decrees would be passed to outlaw such practices, along with anything else that might disturb the peace of the Empire.

For Muirchertach, the new regime meant the next stage of his life. Once Nilfgaard had established it's control of the city, it set out to impose it's way of things. And as Nilfgaard does not allow mages to function outside official imperial sanction. Since his magic had manifested, his parents had locked the doors to their homes, barricading themselves themselves from the world. During that times, his parents constantly argued and fought, keeping him out of hearing reach of the exchanges. Thought it was obvious their argument was over his revealing himself as a budding mage, they took pains not allow him to know what was being said between them. In those times when he was alone with himself, it didn't take him long to figure out on his own that he could call forth the frost with just an act of will. Were it not for his parent's negative reaction, he'd likely have reacted just like any child with awed glee. But as it were, he was as terrified as them, trying as much possible to make his powers go away. But there was no changing what he was.

Eventually, Nilfgaard came to their door as news of a new child mage had reached the ears of the authorities, and as soon it did, they dispatched the Mage Hunters to collect him. Providentially however, they didn't come with violence and force. Instead it was a single mage hunter accompanied with a couple of soldiers. He was an older man, who were the mail of a soldier yet carried no weapons beyond a crossbow and brace of knives. He spoke with his parents while the soldiers watched over Muirchertach. The conversation was short, Nilfgaard demanded all mages be sent to the imperial academy for training, Ebbing was now Nilfgaard and Muirchertach was a mage and citizen of the Empire. That was all there was to say on the matter. His mother went to him, hugged him again tight and looked at him with despair.

"You have to go with them Muirchertach. They will take you to a place where they will teach you to use your gifts and control them. Listen carefully to them, you have power, power from another world and great enough to change this one. If you want to. Master your power and master yourself. Be well and safe my son," she told him, forcing down tears.

Muirchertach, couldn't help but cry and sob. He begged and screamed that he didn't want to go with them. He was sorry he called the ice, he had just wanted to protect his parents. He made promises to be good, that he wouldn't call the frost again. But his father just put his hand on his head and spoke glumly, "I'm sorry son. But you have the power of the world of before and the world of beyond. The only way you'll ever have a chance to be safe is to go with them and be taught by others with gifts like yours. If you succeed, then you'll have a chance to become better then any of them could ever dream. The Aen Saevherne, are the truest mages in the world and no human could ever hope to equal them but this will only happen if you learn the lessons," he explained, in a tone that carried fatalistic finality.

Then the mage hunter kneeled down to him, locked his steely gaze, "Enough child, you are mage and crying doesn't befit the brightest of Nilfgaard. You'll be coming with me and at the academy you'll learn to serve the Empire, as is proper.". He handed him a necklace of dimitrium, ordered him to never take it off until he was told to do so and then gestured to the soldiers accompanying him they were leaving.

It would be the last time he would see or communicate with his parents.

The mage hunter took Muirchertach away to the Gweision Haul academy. The trip was silent and morose with Muirchertach being kept under constant watch for any signs of magical activity. Thought the mage hunter and his man were not cruel. Neither did they offer any warmth or kindness. They refused to speak to the elf child unless it was to give him instructions. And their looks they gave him made it clear they considered him a dangerous thing to be wary of, not a child deserving of comfort and guidance. They made sure he was kept warmth, healthy and away from other people but nothing else. Eventually they reached the academy.

It was a towering, dismal place where students were kept in sparse rooms with just the essentials. Their every move was watched by soldiers and witch hunters and failure to comply was severely punished. When Muirchertach arrived, he was tossed in with a small group of other children from regions Nilfgaard had annexed, all of them humans except him. They were ushered to meet the mages that would be their teachers. The first five years years were miserable and lonely. Most of his fellow students were northerners raised up to hate and fear non-humans and of even those few that didn't, most didn't speak the elder tongue. Nearly all of them avoided him unless they had to during classes as it was obvious with their northern upbringing that associating with elves was asking to be ostracized.

Worst, students were allowed to write to their families. Yet when he did so, Muirchertach never received any reply. He tried again once, twice, three times and finally a fourth time to send them a letter. He was desperate to hear from them, but no response came. At first he feared something horrible had happened to them. But eventually, as he grew sadder and more lonely. He began to believe that his parents had simply abandoned him to the mage hunters and moved on. And with this realization, he became bitter and silent.

His only solace during those early years of his schooling were the lessons themselves and those quiet times in the immense libraries reading every bit of lore he could get his hands on. Muirchertach truly loved sorcery and he was a natural at the more subtle aspects of magic: divination, glamours, manipulating the mind and weaving the raw energies of magic. To the consternation of his teachers, he was also inherently gifted in wielding the powers of elemental cold above and beyond proficiency with the other elements. And those quiet hours, deep into the night pooring over tomes and old scrolls of lore allowed his mind to wander.

After finishing the first portion of his apprenticeship, his education continued and it was then that he finally made a friend. And it was a strange one at that. By then the mages of the academy were allowed brief forays into the nearest city during their downtime, as long as they behaved and avoided magic use within the general population. Muirchertach took those opportunities to visit the sights of the city and immerse himself in the culture of Nilfgaard. It was a strange experience as the people of the capital were very different from the people of the North. Here he found they paid no concern to him being an elf, spoke the elder tongue albeit of a different dialect from his own and he could move freely without receiving strange looks as long as his being a mage was kept secret.

However his being a mage didn't escape the gaze of Cigfa. Muirchertach was visiting his favorite book store, browsing through the recent arrivals without finding anything of real interest when a woman approached him. At first she appeared to be a Nilfgaardian noblewoman, all dressed in finery that matched her exquisite features. She approached him and attempted casual conversation about the reading material available, all the while tossing in flirtious banter that the elven mage was entirely unprepared to respond to, leaving him completely flustered to stutter before reasserting himself with an attempt to remain friendly. However when a particularly bold comment on her part left his unable to do anything but stutter and stare at the beautiful women who was now uncomfortably close. He found himself suddenly hit with a headache as unnatural lust began to overwhelm him. Thanks to his magical training, he instantly knew he was being hit by a supernatural ability. He drew in all his will to resist the unnatural influence, closing his eyes. And when he opened them again, the women flirting with him had changed. She was still a brown haired beauty with with rich hazel eyes and delicate features, but it was now obvious she wasn't human. Instead he saw she had curved horns like a ram's and the hooves much like fawn's emerging from under her fine dress.

"You're.." he exclamed, before reasserting himself, glancing around to make sure nobody was listening,"You are a succubus,". He said staring at her with curiosity.
"Impressive, I didn't expect you to see be able to see through my glamor or resist my charms. Even young mages when approached by a beautiful woman tend to just go with it," she replied, chuckling with delight.
"What do you want from me?" Muirchertach whispered, cautious. He knew enough from his lessons to know succubi were usually peaceful unless provoked, yet one should never make the mistake to believe they were harmless.
"Well, my plan was to charm a handsome Aen Seidhe mage, lure him to my bedchamber and feed on him through unshackled debauchery then leave once he passed out from exhaustion. But you've suddenly made things a lot more interesting," she said with unexpected lightness. "Tell you what, there is a very nice tavern just a few blocks from here. Why don't we make our way there and just talk," the succubus invited with a friendly tone.

Muirchertach still doesn't know why he didn't listen to his first instinct to refuse and use this opportunity to just walk away. But he did follow her, and as it turned out they had a wonderful time. It turned out that she had been living in the city for over two decades, using her illusion magic to hide her presence. Apparently Cigfa, as was her name, truly loved the culture of Niflgaard despite her kind not generally being welcome here and it was a simple matter with illusion magic to hide her presence and feed when needed while leaving her suitors unharmed. Muirchertach wasn't the first to pierced her disguise but she hoped that like the others who had, that they could part ways peacefully. The elf thought about it for a moment, then instead said that she would like to speak to her again. The conversation had been pleasant and he had so few friends. The succubus seemed taken about by his response, but the she smiled and agreed. And this was how their friendship began, they would meet in their free times, talk about their lives and help each other when they could. Cigfa was a kind woman, and through her years in the city she'd made many connections in all sorts of places, allowing them to have adventures of all sorts. Making a friend proved to be a much more rewarding find then just another one fight of feeding and they would grow very close.

His experiences in the capital however weren't all as pleasant. Muirchertach always attempted to avoid trouble and to keep his nature as a mage secret as the last thing he wanted was to cause a scene that might have any privileges or freedoms he'd been allowed be revoked by the Mage-Hunters who supervised the academy. Still, sometimes fate didn't give a choice in the matter. On the year of 1249, during the Winter Solstice. He had traveled once again to the capital, hoping to attend a concert where several prominent performers would attend. Before the performances could be begin however, the event was spoiled by one of the performers apparently refusing to come on stage and some sort of commotion happening backstage. The guards were called and as most of those in attendance either left or waited with growing impatience. Muirchertach watched the guards and the performers, his curiosity getting the better of him. Eventually he overheard the guards arguing that they needed to call the mage hunters. Instead of leaving well enough alone, he approached the guard and asked him what was going on. The man responded that one of the performers was refusing to go on stage because he was convinced another had cursed him. Normally such accusations would be laughed off as superstition but strange items had been found in the poet's room.

Against his better judgement, Muirchertach offered to assist in the investigation, revealing he was a mage from the Imperial academy. The young mage investigated the items found, a strange dolls that was a crude representation of the terrified performer, filled with herbs he correctly identified as being flowers that only grew on the southern most of the Skelliger Isles, he scoured the room and found runes scratched around the four corners, each of the runes he recognized but he couldn't put together how they might fit in with the doll. Excusing himself from the guard's presence, he ran to a nearby book store and found a copy of a book on exotic curses he had studied during his courses. Running back to the guards, he showed them the books and explained how the lore within correlated to what he'd found. He then asked if there were any Skelligers supposed to attend the event or if the poet had feuded with anyone from the Isles. The poet revealed there was a skelliger musician and that they had been competing fiercely for patrons, tonight was supposed to be an important event as they were both to prove their worth to attending prospective patrons and if they impressed them, it would virtually ensure a profitable protection under a powerful patron. When he shared his discoveries with the guards, he saw the skelliger man be swiftly arrested for witchcraft and illegal hexing. As the man was dragged away, he angrily attempted to assault Muirchertach but was quickly subdued by the guards. As he was dragged away, he screamed at the top of his lungs that if they should cross paths again, he would get his revenge on the elf for denying him the just resolution of his feud with the poet.

Muirchertach has had not further encounters with the man, nor does he have any knowledge as to what his fate afterward might have been. But these events remain firmly etched in his mind, as when the they came to light at the academy while his actions were praised for serving the order of the Empire, all agreed that he'd likely made an enemy for life, assuming the man wasn't executed under the laws of Nilfgaard. The elf mage would find more then one sleepless night in the weeks afterward as he went from regretting he involved himself in something he easily could have stayed away from and telling himself he'd helped someone and done the right thing.

By 1251, Muirchertach had completed his education. Spurred by a desire to see more of the world and meet his peers abroad, he petitioned with the help of the university for a position as Imperial chronicler. It took some diplomacy and negotiation but eventually he managed to convince the Court of Nilfgaard to accept, ensuring him funding for his planned trip. Before his departure, he traveled back to his formal home, as he'd never forgiven his parents for cutting off contact with him. When he reached Ebbing however he found their former home had been bought by a family of dwarfs and when he inquired with acquaintances from his childhood. They said that his parent's had sold the house within the month after he'd be taken away by the mage hunters and they had left without telling anyone where they had departed to. Even in the present many years later, Muirchertach still wonders where they want, if they are still alive and if they are what he would do if he crossed paths with them. Even as part of him wonders, if with the hard core of bitterness nursing within him if it would be better if he never saw them again.

With nothing to keep him in the Empire, he departed for the Northern realms, intent on visiting the cities of the North and especially interview important mages and sorcerers. His travel were mostly uneventful as his official letters and stipend assured he was mostly unmolested even if visiting these realms gave him a definitive view of how non-humans were treated here in contrast to the Empire. He eventually reached the Temerian capital and it was there he had one of his most noteworthy encounters. Staying at one of the city's inns for the night after finishing an interview with a local alchemist who'd written one of the books he'd studied during his courses. He found the inn entirely unwelcoming, while none of the patrons harassed him, nearly all of the tavern cast him glares of disapproval and did their best to make it clear he was unwelcome. Even the serving staff, despite his paying good coin for service, only did the barest minimum to earn their keep when dealing with him. Muirchertach likely would have hastily finished his meal and retired early to his room if not for meeting Alasais of Cintra. She was traveling trobairitz out to make her fortune in the world. She entered the inn with all the energy and bombast of someone looking for an audience and made her way straight to the empty stage. There she sat down and began playing a saucy ballad the elf mage recognized as one from home he'd once heard performed during his schooling years. Thought the performance itself was fine, he found himself quickly loosing interest and instead pulled out his journal and began writing some additional thoughts on his interview with the alchemist as he sipped his wine. Eventually, the woman finished her performance, to the applause of the patrons. Eventually the noise died down and the conversation returned to normal, he heard light footsteps coming in his direction and felt eyes on him.

"Didn't like my show? You were the only one in the audience who didn't pay attention," the voice asked, it was the trobairitz.
"No, it was fine. Your mastery of the lyre was impressive but your pronunciation of the Nilfgaardian dialect of the Elder tongue however leaves much to be desired," he replied absentmindedly without looking up.
"Oh is that so? I'll have you know I passed why apprenticeship with flying colors and one of my best subject was languages," she said, peeved.
"If that is what qualifies as passing a language course with flying colors in the North, then here is another topic to be saddened about when discussing the state of education in these realms," he replied closing his journal and looking up, locking eyes with her.
"You're only saying that because your an Aen Seidhe and the language of the Empire is your native language!" she protested, crossing herself.
"That is incorrect. First because the Nilfgaardian dialect of the elder tongue is not my native tongue, the Aen Seidhe dialect of the elder tongue is. Thought it is mutually intelligible with the Nilfgaardian dialect, it is still a distinct one. I only learned the dialect of the Empire after I was sent to Gweision Haul,"
She smirked at his response, sitting down next to him.
"Ah, so you studied at the empire's prison university? That explains the haughty attitude. You're a mage then?"
Muirchertach sighed, glancing around uncomfortably.
"I"m a chronicler with... some magical abilities that needed to be properly tutored," he corrected, "I'd prefer it if you didn't shout loud enough for everyone to hear. It is difficult enough in the Northern Realms for my people with this added stigma" She glanced over her shoulder, and saw that everyone was watching them.
"Yeah... I guess you have a point. I'm Alasais by the way, from Cintra" she acknowledged, introducing herself.
"Muirchertach Noígíallach of Ebbing," he replied politely.

And just like that, they began chatting the evening away. When the inn began to empty itself and both of them felt the weariness of the day fall on them, they found that they had a lot more shared interest then they expected. Little did they know what their meeting would lead them.

*still work in progress more to come*

[Ursinorum]

Aw, hell's yeah!!

Grozan Name: Grozan vor Nemeth Race: Dwarf Profession: Man-at-arms Appearance: Stereotypically short and stout, Grozan has dark brown hair, that is starting to recede. Dwarves are not frivolous people, but this particular one refuses even to braid his beard in the typical dwarven fashion, barely combing it for special occasions, as he's afraid that either grime or blood might make it even harder to tidy up. Grozan can be usually spotted wearing human clothes, as he's been living in these lands for so long that he's perfectly integrated with the 'local culture'. Personality: Always expecting the worse, but ready to face it while baring his teeth, or laughing at himself when he's been too pessimistic, Grozan has a typical dwarven attitude to life. He values people that keep their word, as every word is an oath in his eyes, but once his trust is gained, he is a loyal -almost fanatic- friend. Backstory: Born in Mount Carbon from a family of scribes, working in the king's fortress, Grozan grew up in the best of environments, compared to the average dwarf. The best education, the training, the best food. He even started training under Truzdan Varkel, head of the king's guards. As he wanted nothing more to serve the king and his clan, to give back for the great life he was having, like model dwarf. Unfortunately, his parents got in trouble for a translation of elven books, which angered the Elders, led by Nilvar Dorf. Nilvar was convinced the Nemeth were all a family of human sympathizers, which got them expelled from the fortress, the only home they knew for generations. Grozan's parents landed on their feet, still being expert translators and scribes, but the young Dwarf found that with his name besmirched, nobody would hire him. Under suggestion of Truzdan, and with the support of his parents, Grozan left for the lands of men, looking for fortune, hoping to come back one day and restore its family name. One of the first jobs that the young dwarf managed to find was working security for a Dwarf banker in Oxenfurt, Ravnic Kuzous, from which he learned how gold is important for Dwarves that live in human lands. while in town, Grozan started falling for a human lady, Storla, who caught his eye a night in the tavern, lovely girl. One day, once he knew that he could trust him, Ravnic assigned Grozan to escort a wagon down to Dillingen. Travelling south with a caravan, for safety, at around the Dukaj Hills, tragedy struck. A penniless bard, Jacle Hehm, was desperately trying to get the attention of a girl in the caravan, while Grozan spotted something in the mountains, the idiot ignored the Dwarf and kept singing, and a Griffon attacked causing the loss of two lives. Shocked, the caravan decided to stop for the night in the nearby Verune, there, Jacle tried to blame Grozan, blaming him for attracting the monster with his "Dwarfish means". It was a weak argument, but the dwarf could feel how the atmosphere changed as the caravan watched him with hate and suspicion. Remembering Ravnic's teachings, Grozan decided to donate one of the chests he was transporting to the caravan, as a sign of goodwill to mitigate the spirits, it worked, and Jacle left the caravan. Grozan reached his destination apologizing for the missing gold. The client was understanding of the situation, knowing that he would get the money in the next shipment, but Ravnic wasn't as open-minded and fired Grozan, still expecting to be refunded. As the dwarf drowned his sorrows, he discovered that Storla took her own life for unknown reasons, which was another terrible hit for Grozan. Moving to the near Novigrad, the young warrior started taking all sorts of mercenary jobs, to fuel his drinking to forget his lady. In the midst of all this, he learned that the bard Jacle accused him of murder in Cintra, a place he never even visited. In his drunken stupor, he swore to all present in the tavern that he'd kill the damn bard the next time he'd met him, on dwarven honor. After a year or so (hard to keep track when you're always drunk), returning from Tretoborg to collect a bounty in Drakenborg, Grozan was charmed by a dryad, and for a two days was entranced by her company. Out of the blue, the dryad snapped at him, furious that he was a dwarf, like she was only just told or she only just noticed and disappeared into the forest, leaving a naked Grozan sobbing and crying for the unnamed nymph to come back, to no avail. Grozan collected his money in Drankenborg and then spent a month trying restlessly to find the dryad, but the small clues he scrambled led nowhere. When he ran out of the supplies that he prepared for this long camping trick he gave up, hoping that destiny would bring them together again in the future. The infatuation with the dryad changed Grozan, it somehow placated his grief and allowed him enough mental clarity to remember that he still had a large debt to pay to Revnik. With the goal of extinguishing his debt as soon as possible, the young warrior hopped from town to town, taking every clean job he could find. Working alone. Until he reached Asheberg, that is.. (WIP)

Apparently, rolling too many dice in a single post crashes the system, it says that I deleted rolls but haven't, I copied the rolls that crashed the system in a new post and still come out red (but don't say I changed the rolls this time..)

I await suggestion on what to do while I write up the backstory.

I am ok with starting the process again but dividing the rolls in different posts, if there's any suspicion of fraud

To be fair, I got some excellent stat rolls, it was too good to last, let me know

[Unko Talok]

I have edited the original post to remove copyrighted materials. Careful, y'all.

[Marshmallow]

Will you be allowing people to generate characters using the Lord class? Or any of the player race options from the Witcher's Journal?

[auntmousie]

Originally Posted by Ursinorum

Aw, hell's yeah!!
I await suggestion on what to do while I write up the backstory.

I am ok with starting the process again but dividing the rolls in different posts, if there's any suspicion of fraud

To be fair, I got some excellent stat rolls, it was too good to last, let me know

I'm (obviously) not the GM, but as an idea, one d100 roll equals two d10 rolls. That would cut the number of rolls in half.

[Hal Hammerhand]

@Ursinorum: You can't copy/paste rolls once they have been rolled, which is why they red-flagged the second and third times. I'm not sure what happened other than over-rolling. Were you able to view the results? I don't suspect you were trying to cheat the system. Use whatever results you got, PM with further concerns and keep what you got for stats.

@Marshmallow: I only have access to the original base book and since it's my first game, I would like to stick to that as far as source material for race and class.

[Humble Hero]

@Ursinorum: If it helps, you can put in a smaller number of rolls to begin with, and then edit the post and add more rolls (to continue or follow up the initial results).

That way it doesn't crash, and so long as you don't touch the older rolls, no errors or red warnings pop up, because you're only adding more rolls in the post.

[Hal Hammerhand]

Thank you, Humble Hero for helping out others!

Also, I added a table to the second post in the thread. Let me know if it matches up and/or when you complete you application so I can update the table.