[D&D-5e] Archmage's Gambit

[BlackDragon0]

Originally Posted by Torack

I'm good with it! Go ahead and make an application!

Cool

[BlackDragon0]

DeathStrike Name: Hellion DeathStrike Race: Shadar-kai Class/Background: Fighter/Eldritch Necro Knight.(bg: soldier) ( lv 2 fighter, lv 1 necro.) Personality: Can and will stare down a demon with out flinching. He hides what there is of his emotions, but he has them. Break through to them and your either a enemy, or a friend for life. Backstory: Hellion was born in shadow. In a place with no name. His mother couldn't take both the pain of shadow and of child birth and died. His father had rosen to top necro mage. And was therefore the leader. Until a nother out does his power. So as not to appear weak to the others he has elected to wait to resurrect his wife. It is the Shadar-kai way to remain emotionless. Hellion as with every Shadar-kai will not receive his adult name until he comes of age. ( 100) He has until then to make his inner self known. Here most lean towards magic, darker magic, Necro magic. Hellion has a natural talent for the arcane. But that isn't as natural to him as the sword. Shadar-kai have warriors and battle mages but none like Hellion. Most Shadar-kai fighters use a chain weapon. He prefers 2 swords. Most Shadar-kai battle mages use eldritch magic to attack along with their weapon. But Hellion combines necro magic with eldritch magic. It is apparent he will be both fighter and necromancer from a early age. Hellion trained hard but unlike his fellow Shadar-kai. He does not revel in causing the pain of others.( Unless those others are evil). Hellion stands as a protector more than just his clan, but in his heart others as well. All Shadar-kai feel great pain from living in the plane of shadow. But weather it is lesser or Hellion is better at hiding it, others notice. As he grows older the clan seeks to make him War manger. Not just a leader but one who is forever to rule with an iron fist, with out mercy. And toy with the dead. Becoming the most evil among them. His father does not want this. He knows Hellions true heart. And so make a a plan. When a Shadar-kai comes of age the shadow plane takes hold fully. And the pain becomes forever. To counter this the clan sends all who come of age to the normal realm. To wander for years( 100 if they survive, or don't come back sooner.) They travel like this using a shadow stone. Hellion's skills with blade and magic earn him the name DeathStrike. Because no matter what strikes you blade or magic you die. This also means he has come of age. And so must journey for years in the normal plane. His father rushed him to a secret chamber. " Son they wish to keep you here. Make you A WarMancer. Allow the shadow to take you fully. I have sacrificed my love for this clan I will not sacrifice my son.", He tells DeathStrike. Who has never herd one good thing from his father.( So he too hides his love and emotions) thinks DeathStrike. " You must take this gear and this shadow stone and go NOW from here! When you are on the normal plane crush the shadow stone and never return. Go now be the protector you with to be. Take my tome.You will learn great magic to aid your blades." His father ordered and left. Hellion DeathStrike froze a moment never return.... That was hard, but then the pain came as the shadow came to take him. And poof DeathStrike was gone from the plane of shadow forever. As his father had told him he used 2 big rocks and crushed the stone. Now unless he were to find a shadow stone here he can never go home. He traveled a bit until he ran into some people who chased him. Be it his race or a fear of strangers he did not know. In the shadow realm he could teleport away. But not here. He ran and couldn't teleport as he tried then he stepped into the shadow of a boulder and poof he was gone. The people unable to see him left. He hadn't vanished no he shadow stepped out a shadow of a tree 30ft away. ( So here the light hinders my teleportation. but in shadow to shadow I can. This also took more out of him than in shadow realm. He soon found out he could only shadowstep a certain number of times.

[GleefulNihilism]

Ooo, had an idea. Found some nice art too, if a bit too big.

Paladin of the Fallen Church To the Hungry, My Food To the Feeble, My Stength To the Virtuous, My Shield To the Wicked, My Sword Name: Kulabak Race: Half-Orc Class: Paladin (Oath of Vengence) Background: Faction Agent Description: There's an old jest about how servents of the gods somehow keep turning out to be better looking. With Kulabak it actually looks like it might have been true at some point, you can tell that at some point he would have been considered strikingly handsome, at least for a half-orc, but the leftside of his face is now covered with a spider's web of scars like his head was put through a window left side first. They're not that old for scars either, sometimes one of them even bleeds a little bit when he clenches his jaw - which he does a lot these days. Personality: Ironically, in some ways he does seem to fulfill the image of a Fallen Paladin. He's certainly noticed that he's become more cynical and paranoid then he used to be, but you would to if you went through what he has. He always was noticably more aggressive then the average servent of the Church, now his Temper flares as he is flabbergasted at how all of this could have happened under his nose. Deep down, he cares. A great deal actually. He still believes in the Gods and his Oaths - but now he has to try to pretend that it doesn't even when it breaks his heart. He actually possesses a great deal of Empathy, but he has to hide it to survive. Because that's the thing- officially he's a Fallen Paladin of the Church but that's not the truth. Why are the Celestials Silent? They're Not. The Church isn't Listening. Why did he Fall? He Didn't. The Church Did. Backstory The most infuriating part is that all the signs were right in front of them. He remembers seeing it, a bunch of little things. An old friar that "transferred to a smaller parish" and never wrote back. Whispered conversations in doorways he saw from others. Late night meetings, people coming to the church for healing getting turned away for reasons that seemed so reasonable at the time. It was all there, he just didn't put everything together. One morning during the morning meal the music stopped, and the smell started. A noxious odor that somehow goes beyond the nose, something that when you have smelled it once you'll remember it forever. "Evil." And yet, where is it? The Senior Cardinal came into the room with some Bishops and their assistants entered the Food Hall while Kulabak and the other Paladins feverishly searched. Evil was here, a Great Evil - but where? "Brothers and Sisters - if you'll kindly sit down? We have a few announcements. Some Policy Changes." "Forgive us, Cardinal but there's something developing. We all sense a Great Evil." Senior Paladin Donogal replies, and he does sit down but he keeps looking. "Ah, don't worry. That's being taken care of. We actually got to Purge a great Evil last night. It turns out the Queen was a Witch. At least some of the Royal Children were Half-Devil. Tragic it got this far, tragic." "What?" someone gasped, and it was shocking - but at the same time unsettling. How could the Church have missed that? That's how the line of reasoning starts at least. Kulabak starts to step forward to hear better. This was concerning to hear, but it also didn't feel - right, somehow. "Yes, the situation is under control thanks to the Bishops and myself. We have a corner of the Cemetary to handle the remains. It's alright, the Smell you won't notice soon. Now, if we can go over the new Vows." "How did we not notice?" asked one of the Clerics. That's when Kulabak put his finger on it. The Church and the Royal Family have worked together on projects before, some of the family were regular attenders. The idea of them being able to fool a Paladin's sense is not strange - but How could All of the Evil Royals fool All of the Clerics, Paladins, and Priests? "Evil is Insidious." the Cardinal just shrugs, handing over a parchment with the new Vows to Senior Paladin Donogal who reads it, slowly. Really, that's all he has to say? "But if the situation is under control, why do we still sense Evil? Wouldn't be done?" "And who is taking care of it? All of the Cemetary Monks are Here." "And there's nobody assigned to the Soup Kitchen on the Chores list. And only half or our normal Clinic staff." "And what is this, a Price List for the Clinic? What happens when one of the Poor needs Healing? Do we just let them Die?" "Where's the King in all this. Why have we heard nothing from the Throne?" Kulabak didn't say anything, no question left his lips - but he was starting to suspect that he knew where the Evil was. What confirms it comes next. "The new Vows. A lot here about Loyalty to the Crown and the Church. Not much else. And it specifically says the Throne and the Crown and the Church - nothing about the person sitting on the Throne and Wearing the Crown. Nothing about the Dieties we Serve. Why?" asks Donogal, and he looks back to the others, meeting the eyes. Kulabak noticed that many of the others give little nods. Some don't. "Told you it wouldn't work." one of the Bishops sighs. So does the Cardinal. "There's been changes in Policy. Deep, Deep Changes. I was hoping you'd all take the new Vows willingly but - " the Cardinal gives, snapping his fingers. Heavily Armored and Armed Figures start to march into the Hall. Dark Armor, with Sigils of some Dark Gods. "Take the New Vows or you all Die as well. Think carefully." Donogal just takes a breath, looks back at the rest of the Paladins - another gaze to match the eyes - and he has his response. Most of the Priests step over to join the Cardinal, as do what seems to be the majority of the Clerics - but almost no Paladins. Instead, they give their response as one. They have no Armor, they have no Weapons save Breakfast Spoons - but they have their Oath. In the moment, that's enough. Only a Fool expects to win against a fully armed and armored opponent when you only have a Porriage Spoon. Kulabak hadn't expected to win with just that though. The spoon had gone into the visor of the helmet of the closest Dark Paladin, just pushed until he felt something give and then barreled down with his shoulders as hard as he could. Funny, he always thought the windows would be stronger. Kulabak didn't think he could beat this Dark Paladin with just a Spoon, but a Spoon and Gravity - Well, that could be different. Splinters of Glass spray through the air and take their lash across the side of his face but all he's thinking about is how he just has to survive this fall... The Dark Paladin wasn't a soft landing spot, but soft enough if you could stomach the sick crunch of the Armor and Weight conspiring against them. Feels like a rib is broken, shoulder too, and blood is definitely running down one side of his face. Doesn't matter. The Massacre in the Dining Hall must be almost over because they're throwing spells and arrows down at him. An arrow lodges itself in one of his legs. Doesn't Matter. This Battle is Lost - but As Long As One Lives, the War Isn't Over. Run. For Now. He doesn't know if it was his own voice or the Divine, with how much blood he's losing it could be either one - but maybe one day he'll get to find out. Since that day he's been keeping his head down, trying to keep hidden. Supposedly there were other survivors of the Massacre, but the official decree was that they were all Fallen Paladins. There's a Bounty on his head, but with the new scars on his face nobody will try to collect him. Not for a while at least. Supposedly he's a Fallen Paladin, but the Truth was even worse. He didn't Fall - the Church Did. The Divine Help Us All.

[Seekr34]

Ok, my app is done, hope I didn't keep you waiting.

[RossN]

Application Name: Alyona Race: Human Class: Wizard (School of Illusion) Background: Spy (Detective) Personality: Alyona is clever and witty, always quick with a quip (ironic when she's in a good mood, sarcastic and biting when she's in a bad mood.) She's convinced she's the cleverest person in any room and is put out whenever this proves not to be the case. In her youth she was a pickpocket and though she's managed to curb the worst of her greed as an adult and now mostly works on the other side of the law her ears do tend to pick up whenever gold or (especially) magical lore is mentioned. Backstory: Alyona has had an adventurous life, rising from street pickpocket and grifter through wizards apprentice after a chance encounter with a kindly mage and now on to her current career as a detective, specialising in odd cases. It might be a stretch to say she's got a heart of gold (she expects to be paid and paid well for her skills) but she's a hard worker and honest to her clients. She also occasionally does work for free for those who remind her of her own past on the streets. Alyona is transgender and pays an alchemist a small fortune on a yearly basis for a rare elixir to keep her body as feminine as her mind; she's hoping to find a way through her growing knowledge of magic to make the transition permanent. Having spent her entire life in the city Alyona only really knows the countryside from books (she was illiterate until her mid teens but after becoming an apprentice wizard and receiving an education she discovered a voracious appetite for books.) Her attitude towards rurals is a mix of curiosity and a slightly patronising desire to educate ("these shiny pieces of metal are called coins - don't eat them!".) If actually forced out into the world beyond the town walls her attitude would likely be greatly amplified! Alyona doesn't have any blood relatives that she knows of but her elderly master Odrin is still around, albeit now retired and she still has a few ties to the street days including her foster sister Lilliana who has stayed in the thieving business.

[Drifter One]

Hi Torack,

I have a Bard character (Courtier) that I am thinking of submitting for this game. Would it be feasible that he was part of King Silvains court before his murder and the successor threw him out? This would tie in with his back story well, i think.

Also, are there any cities (where the kings residence is for example) and surrounding towns/villages I could use for the back story (as it currently sits in FR setting)

Cheers,

[Dikata]

I was curious if you'd accept a Raven Queen Warlock. I love the flavor of the Raven Queen, (unearthed arcana) but will put together something else if that wouldn't be accepted.

[Drifter One]

Arofan Name: Arofan Woodcotte Race: Human [B]Age[B] 28 Background: Courtier Class: Bard Alignment: CN Personality: Arofan is cheeky, outgoing and can tell a tall tale. He is also a creative genius both with songwriting and on the lute, or rather, he was. He often thinks of ways he can spin a yarn and has dreams of crating an epic tome which will shape literature for years to come. Arofan is very excitable yet knows how to conduct himself in varying societies, be it the Royal courts rubbing shoulders with nobles, or roughing it in alleyways with urchins and scamps. His ability to "play to the crowd" often earns him favour, for means sweet or sour, as long as it benefits him as ultimately, living the high life for so long has made him quite selfish. Currently he is suffering a confidence crisis and is seeking inspiration be it from others and there deeds or direct experiences himself. His outgoing personality and friendly deameanor now can suddenly turn sour and snappy his his frustration builds within Backstory: Arofan was lucky enough to be born into high society in a town called Torrine, his father a Minor Lord (Lionell) and his mother Lady Aquitine of Pran. As such, he had always been around court as his parents were often invited to the Kings Feast in Blackreath or a number of Royal tournaments, which Arofan really enjoyed. As a child he would often play with other children of the court, or tease the guards and generally get up to plenty of mischief. Other nobles found his quirky and cheeky ways adorable and Arofan often found himself befriending the adults of the court, even though it was unintentional. He just had a charismatic way with others, not the stiff upper lip or the straight backed posture the other children had been forced to adhere to. Despite protests of embarassment from his parents, Arofan somehow remained true to himself, despite the pressures of noble court. King Silvain himself was even known to ruffle the boys hair on occasion. At around 6 winters old, Arofan began to feel the boredom of routine at court. Travelling here, travelling there, bowing to so and so, elbows off the table, speak only when spoken to... He felt like he was trapped in a giant shell and he was ready to burst out. Alas, his duties and surroundings prevented Arofan from expressing himself. Lady Acquitine began to notice her once happy son become moody and reclusive, and often would sing to him to ease his moods. Her voice was angelic and held a tone so fine and clear and with such a range, it always left him spellbound. His mother, noticing that her son took to music like a flame to dry grass, sent him to Blackreath to learn the art of song, literature and the lute. It was a long, hard 10 years training, yet it was enjoyable for Arofan and made the days at court much more tolerable. He even looked forward to it most days. His teacher, the Old Man Bannistar, was a true master of all the arts and Arofan was forever thankful to his mother for introducing him to music and Bannistar. at 16 years old, Old Man Bannistar concluded that Arofan had graduated from his class in Music& Literature. From his graduation, Arofan was able to move to performance within court, beginning with minor events such as Lord and ladies day, public holidays or fellow courtier weddings. He was often part of a troupe and played his lute in the background, yet he yearned for more. He wanted all the attention. He knew he was a genius and he needed to express himself to others. Using his contacts, those nobles he had befriended as a child, his sweet talking allowed him to take centre stage at the events he would otherwise have just been support. He used the opportunity to sing, to play and to tell jokes and dramatic stories. He soon became very popular at court; the king himself often requesting his presence for formal gatherings. Arofans life was perfect. He sat near the high table, eating roast goose, hams, potatoes and drinking fine wines, even those on the lower tables did not dine as well as he. Several years of this position soon began to tell on his waistline as the once skinny lad was beginning to become a little more portly. Life was great. And then, it wasn't... "Wake up! Arofan! Wake up!" the voice outside bellowed between frantic thumps on the oak door. Arofan rolled over, tugging his bearskin bedcloth tighter around his prone form. "Piss off, it's early!" he groaned. "Dammit Arofan! Get your lazy arse out of bed! Quickly! The King is dead!" the voice boomed and trailed off down the corridor beyond. "Yeah, yeah..." Arofan muttered into his pillow. As the thumping stopped and the voice disappeared, all was quiet for a moment and Arofan smiled to himself as he prepared to drop off back to sleep. Then there was a strange clamour echoing down the corridors, then another, then another. A sound that was strangely familiar, like armoured boots scraping on stone. Then there was a scream. What the...? Arofan suddenly sat up in bed and replayed what the voice behind his door said. The King is... dead? Arofan shot from his bed over to his dressing screen, hopping on one leg as he tried desperately to slip his boots on. Adorning some trousers and a sky blue tunic, the troubadour frantically filled his purse with coins from his money chest. He paused for a moment, admiring the shiny contents before stuffing more in the bag; as much as he could. Sprinting to the door he yanked it open and was almost knocked from his feet as armoured guards ran down the corridor towards the Great Hall. "What is going on!" He called, panic now bubbling up inside. "Out of the way boy!" Screamed a guard as he ran past, shoving Arofan back into his room. Arofan now began to feel more anxious, and when the traffic of guards had subsided, he ran out from his room and followed the train to the Great Hall. Arofan stopped dead on the spot. Before him was a scene that will never leave him. All the soldiers and guards gathered, were either on their knees, weapons cast aside, or standing other those subdued with spears pointing at their throat. Arofan gasped louder than he had wanted, for at the other end of the Great Hall, on the diais, stood Silvains closest advisor, pacing up and down addressing the court, his arms behind his back. Around him both men and women were sobbing; nobles he had grown up with, covering their own childrens eyes. Arofan pushed past until he could see what had happend. There, at the foot of the dais lay King Silvain, his queen and their children. All beheaded. "No!" Arofan screamed, his hand covering his quivering mouth in horror. "Who are you!?" Shouted a man in ornate plate armour, striding towards Arofan. "W....what?" flinched Arofan as the man grabbed him fiercely by his collar and dragged him from the crowd. "Who are you boy? I will not ask again, lest i cut your ears off!" he spat. Arofan cowered, for the first time in his life he felt absolute fear, an experience he would never wish to repeat. "I...I...am Arofan....just the...entertainer!" he quivered. The Armoured man turned towards the tyrant pacing on the dais. He silently nodded back to the armoured man, seemingly to confirm his identity. His grip tightening, the stranger began to drag Arofan away. "Please....don't kill me...I...I...just sing!" he pleaded. "Open the doors!" bellowed the stranger, and with a loud grinding of wood on stone, the heavy oak doors were heaved open. "Get out of here boy. If you are seen on these grounds again, you will be thrown into the dungeon and fed to the rats!" Some time has passed since and the land is not as it once was. Arofan, having left most of his belongings behind, had spent most of his coin on a new lute, basic trappings and renting rooms. Far behind are the days of Royal courtship, fine dining and comfortable beds as he struggles to make ends meet by performing in seedy bars or market squares of Garen's Boot far from Blackreath...

[Torack]

Originally Posted by Dikata

I was curious if you'd accept a Raven Queen Warlock. I love the flavor of the Raven Queen, (unearthed arcana) but will put together something else if that wouldn't be accepted.

Absolutely! Go for it!

[Ildrahil]

I'm definitely in. I have taken the Oath of Sangus. I have an uncommon item in inventory which I can easily remove if you need me to. The uncommon item is a Cloak of Protection if that is okay. I will write the story of how Mavros acquired it.

Application Concept art Name: Mavros Riasson Race: Tiefling Class: Hexblade Warlock Alignment: CG Personality: Mavros is inquisitive. No, that's not quite right. Mavros simply must know what is in every shadow, what is behind that glimmer, and who lives in that old, supposedly haunted tower. It is this inquisitiveness that makes him such a good bounty hunter. Of course, it has nearly killed him once or twice too. Such as the time when he was young and saw an unnatural darkness, a darkness where it shouldn't be, where a torch should have dispelled it. So, of course, he entered it. There he found a creature that exudes darkness, eating, what it was eating may have once been a man, or a woman, or a pig, he couldn't tell. What he could tell was it saw him. Lucky for Mavros he was fast and the creature was enjoying its meal and rather bloated. One would think that would teach him a lesson, but he continues to look and go where others, those more careful, would never tread. The thrill of the moment, like the adrenalin rush he felt when he saw that creature all those years ago, that is what he craves. Ideal: Rules are not necessarily sacred, principles are Bond: My half siblings are ashamed of me, I will change that or die trying Flaw: I'm too inquisitive for my own good, like a cat...but they have nine lives Background: Mavros' half siblings are ashamed of him. He has two older brothers and an older sister. His mother's first husband died while clearing an infestation of evil creatures from the sewers of his home city, many say it was Mavros' father who sent those evil creatures there. Shortly thereafter Mavros' father, a Devil known by many names, seduced his mother Ria. She always told Mavros how kind he was to her and that the ultimate gift he gave her was Mavros himself. He isn't so sure that his life is a gift. He had to struggle through his whole life. When young, other children tormented him mercilessly and his older siblings, who could have stopped it easily, simply watched on. Eventually, he learned to protect himself and his siblings showed him grudging respect, but their shame was always near. Only his mother showed him unconditional love. Mavros searched and searched for his father or a way to contact him, but he never found him. Eventually, he figured his father wanted nothing to do with him and so Mavros decided he wanted nothing to do with his father. What he did find in his searching was a supernatural creature called the Raven Queen. It was she whom Mavros made a bargain with, and she gave him powers with sword, shield, and armor, as well as knowledge of the arcane, knowledge which he used to defend himself and those weaker than him in need. Of course, he understands on occasion she may have need of him and he is bound to her. Having been picked on for much of his youth, he learned to defend those who were weak and couldn't defend themselves. This is actually what led him to his current profession, bounty hunter. His only friend from his youth, Shanain, a defenseless young woman, was murdered for a black onyx ring she always wore and for something else she refused to give up to her murderer. Mavros vowed to find out who the perpetrator was. He followed the clues and the trails and he found the man who did it, a man who was a bully growing up and who wanted something Shanain was unwilling to give him. So the bully killed her and stole everything she had. When Mavros found the murderer the man laughed at him, called him weak, said he was so ugly even his own father wanted naught to do with him. He was someone both he and Shanain knew while growing up, and they both detested. Mavros nearly killed the man, but he held back. He knew killing him like this would be wrong, would actually make him more like his father. He fought the urge to slice open the man's throat as he lay prostrate and defenseless before him. Instead, he took him to the watch and presented all the evidence. Mavros was there when Shanain's murderer was hanged. Mavros smiled. Shanain had no relatives left, so Mavros took the black onyx ring to remember her. The city watch was impressed with Mavros' ability to sift out the murderer and they gave him other people to find. Often they were simple thieves, but on occasion they were worse, far worse. This gave Mavros a sense of purpose, but he always wondered why he was born, and how could his mother love a creature as evil as his father. On his last mission, he nearly died fighting his prey. It turned out his prey was a master assassin and she had a cloak that protected her. Mavros eventually prevailed, but it was a near run thing. When he took his prisoner to the watch, Mavros was wearing her cloak. Being a bounty hunter, and a good one, has provided him with a comfortable life. D&D Bio in Brief: I have been playing D&D since it was a supplement in a game called Chainmail. When it first came out in a white box with three rather cheaply made rulebooks inside I rushed out to get. I played it all through junior high, high school, college, and my years in the Army. My favorite characters in LOTR are Gimli and Aragorn, so my first PC was a Dwarven fighter and once AD&D came out I made a Ranger. Heck, half the reason I went to Ranger school in the Army was so I could be a Ranger! Back in the early days it was all about hack and slash and finding treasure. Then a friend and I built a world, which was fun, and I found role playing instead of just roll playing. I found other RPGs (L5R, King Arthur Pendragon, RuneQuest, GURPs, etc.) but I always came back to D&D. AD&D was my favorite version but I have grown to love 5e and this may be my favorite now. I have grown to love PbP. I was introduced to it on one of my deployments as a way to continue playing and I haven't stopped. I enjoy PbP because, IMO, it allows for more role playing opportunities and the story tends to be more full. I am a team player and try to help other players who may not be as comfortable with PbP. I love to role play and I try to make my posts as descriptive as possible while helping to move the story along or keep it moving. I know there are sometimes opportunities to slow things down a bit though to properly role play a scene. That said, I also love a good fight and when the time comes my PCs tend to be in the thick of it. I post something every day. Character Sheet: Is located here

[Tolmie]

Character Application Squeak Race: Kenku Class: Cleric (Trickery Domain) Background: Acolyte Personality Always used to speaking with tricksters and thieves, I’ve become quite coy with my conversations, and will work strategically to ensure a hefty donation to my temple/order. Appearance: Short and lithe, with black feathers covering his body, the bulk of its fluff is only for show. There isn’t much to see beyond the inky darkness except his yellow eyes that reflect the light shown in them. Backstory: Squeak has always been quite the con-artist, but after visiting the temple of Quorlinn, he discovered the real scam; becoming an acolyte, he quickly ascended the ranks and was promoted to a full-fledged cleric of the order, now he both serves the call of his god and rakes in the revenue.

[GleefulNihilism]

Strongly considering requesting that if Kulabak is chosen that his background is how he starts. As in if any other characters happen to be near the Church they'll see two people - one heavily armed and armored and the other just trying to make do stabbing the other guy in the eye slit with a spoon, fall out of a ~3rd story stained glass window. And the unarmored one clearly mostly survives only because he landed on the armored one.

*Dramatic!*

[Torack]

Originally Posted by GleefulNihilism

Strongly considering requesting that if Kulabak is chosen that his background is how he starts. As in if any other characters happen to be near the Church they'll see two people - one heavily armed and armored and the other just trying to make do stabbing the other guy in the eye slit with a spoon, fall out of a ~3rd story stained glass window. And the unarmored one clearly mostly survives only because he landed on the armored one.

*Dramatic!*

Tell ya what, if you get accepted I might let everyone do their own flash-back thing, mainly because I already have a starting point in mind and all that

[GleefulNihilism]

Well if you already have an intro planned I might want to see what that is first. Assuming, etc.

[ArcZero]

I have to say, it's quite cool how people are integrating the story prompt and the events of the King's betrayal into their backgrounds.

Just so you know, this is a support caster who wants to grant allies weapon attacks by healing/buffing them (and later cast fireballs). So if selected, the party would ideally have one if not two melee/ranged weapon users. I know this is only a four player game, so that would limit party composition rather severely.

Also, if there are names for a god of law and a goddess of love and compassion, that would be great. Or if you have deities that are close to those concepts.

Application Image courtesy of Midjourney Name: Astorian Iskandir Race: Half-Elf Class: Order Domain Cleric 1/Divine Soul Sorcerer 2 Appearance: Astorian appears to most as a doddering old man, but he is in fact, a half-elf ex-professor, ex-priest of some esteem. He is less stout now given his advanced age, but with closer inspection, his twinkling turquoise eyes reveal a roaring bonfire of playfulness. Evidence of strikingly good looks in years past can be seen in his bone structure. He is usually scowling at something requiring his concentration or smirking at his latest conversational victim, of which he can ask questions and tell stories endlessly. Astorian carries many trinkets and books on his person. He wears flowing robes with embroidery that indicates service to the gods of Love and Law with a stole from his time at Grisham Academy. Actually, he has a dozen sets of robes and stoles, all with slightly different details. All of his enlightened accoutrements conceal the fact that he is wearing scale mail underneath with a shield ready to go. This old man is no pushover. Personality: Professor Iskandir is a gentle, mirthful and highly inquisitive soul. He got his start adventuring late in life, but he had decades of study, instruction and pleasant travel before that. Being cast out from the institutions that meant so much to him has left a pall over his sunny demeanor; but rather than dull the brightness of his smile it actually sharpens it. The suffering Astorian has endured has added to his robust worldview and he is eager to show others that they can survive their trials and tribulations as well. Anyone can learn at any age! Both a lovely person and an iconoclast hellbent on sharing his compassion and rule-breaking with the world, Professor Iskandir draws the ire of the powerful and the adoration of the common folk. Astorian will go out of his way to help and advise others. Now that he has dabbled in two methods of spellcasting, his magic exudes the joy he wishes to see in the world: he is dedicated to the goddess of Love and Compassion and wants to support others, not lavish glory upon himself. This zen approach is rarely rattled, aside from his zeal for study, inquiry, conversation or when he sees another's dignity or rights violated. In those dire situations, a fiercer side of Astorian can be seen where he will call upon all the fury of the gods of Love and Law to persecute those who would harm others. Background: Astorian followed in his father's footsteps as a student and then a professor at Grisham Academy, one of the foremost places of learning in the kingdom of Moril. He taught medicine, history, logic and oration classes over several decades. The main thing that prevented him from moving up to deanship or receiving promising research grants was his lack of magic. Thus, he was content teaching for almost 80 years until enough faculty had grown tired of the belligerent aging half-elf who stubbornly taught street epistemology and played with the conventions of how things were supposed to be done. This was the reign of Silvain, dammit, the future at our fingertips, there was no time to waste on relics of the past who didn't see the power up for grabs in studying the arcane arts. So Astorian's detractors added up infraction after infraction for his lengthy sabbaticals and his flaunting of the new rules enforced by President Duncan, intent on seeing Grisham rise to arcane dominance. Astorian had his tenure revoked and was banned from the academy. Astorian languished for several years. He traveled and consulted with the gods. How they could go after someone intent on teaching others? Is that not the purpose of their hallowed institution? Why would magical might matter to a professor? Astorian settled on going to another place that would appreciate his hard work and zeal: the Temple to the god of Law. While starting over from scratch into his 129th birthyear, Astorian did commune with the god of Law. At long last, Astorian was faithless no more. He believed in the higher powers and worked hard at the temple. Unfortunately, corruption pursued him there as well. As Astorian's faith and divine magic grew, his unconventional methods that accepted all who wished to worship law was entirely out of order with the hierarchy of power within the temple. There were rules that accorded who received the favor of the temple and its blessings. Fiscal responsibilities to powerful lords and barons of industry. Astorian had started preaching that even the lowest pauper could follow the law and be seen just as gloriously in the god of Law's eyes as the highest lord. This was utter blasphemy that saw Astorian cast out in short order after he'd gained his full priesthood. Backstory: Forced to leave his second place of intellectual pursuit that gave his life purpose, Astorian made a breakthrough: I have all the wisdom I need at my fingertips, I do not need these institutions to help people! Astorian sat in contemplation for the whole of his 140th birthday. Gray of hair and physically diminished, unlike what most think of elves being, the goddess of Love and Compassion bestowed her grace on him. He'd created a direct connection to the goddess, making his soul divine. With some practice, he would suss out a style of spellcasting all his own, completely removed from anyone else's methods and open to any willing to learn. Astorian has returned to the heart of the kingdom of Moril, intent on spreading the word of the goddess of Love and Compassion in the royal city. Little did he know that machinations were underway that very week to see King Silvain laid low, destroy the royal family and cast the kingdom into chaos. Astorian's street preaching of an unofficial goddess landed him in the stockade, suspected of being an ill omen or traitor that cursed King Silvain's fate. Even Astorian's silver tongue could not get him out of this one. But one of the guards has taken a liking to Astorian. He told him about his dreams of a band of heroes, including someone with Astorian's silhouette, delivering the kingdom of Moril from evil. Maybe Astorian's luck is finally turning around.