[D&D-5e] Spelljammer: Light of Xaryxis

[RossN]

Character Application Name: Lyrindal 'Lyra' Moonbow Race: Half-Elf Class: Rogue (Arcane Trickster) Background: Charlatan Personality Traits: I lie about almost everything, even when there’s no good reason to. I have a joke for every occasion, especially occasions where humor is inappropriate. Ideals: Independence. I am a free spirit—no one tells me what to do. (Chaotic) Bonds: I fleeced the wrong person and must work to ensure that this individual never crosses paths with me or those I care about. Flaws: I can’t resist a pretty face. Appearance: An attractive half-elf woman who stands at about 5'5 with dark brown hair and green-hazel eyes. She has a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks along with a ready smile and a twinkle to her eyes. Her favoured colour is purple and unless the situation calls for a disguise or something inconspicuous she prefers to wear at least some clothing with that shade, generally well cut, feminine and fashionable. She also always wears a hat. Description: A stylish, witty and charming young woman Lyra is quick with a joke or flirt who is loyal to her friends if little else. In the company of those she dislikes her wit turns barbed and she has difficulty controlling her tongue unless she is pursing a con. She is proud of her wits and ability with magic and is almost as clever as she thinks she and even when not deliberately trying to make a coin out of it she delights in telling tall tales and seeing if she is believed. Unfortunately for her Lyra is vain, greedy and not very strong willed and her weaknesses - gold, a pretty face or sometimes the sheer lure of mischief against someone who deserves it - have tripped her up more than once. Backstory: Lyra herself would tell you half a dozen fanciful tales about her origin but the truth is that she is a former pickpocket from the poor quarter of Silverpoint Harbor. She was assigned male at birth but always identified as female and eventually several years back found the money and contacts in the Mage's Guild to have her physical body polymorphed to match the person she was. At the same time she dropped the old masculine and very human sounding name her parents had given her in favour of the much more Elf sounding 'Lyrindal 'Lyra' Moonbow' (Lyra's parents were both half-elves themselves but had been humble folk not wanting to stand out.) Her magical abilities developed after a chance dalliance with a handsome young illusionist named Rorik whom Lyra met at a card game. The romance was wild and short lived (though the two remain close friends) but the mage recognised Lyra's natural gift for magic and taught her a few minor spells. Lyra lacks the patience and work ethic to make it as a full wizard but she does find magic fascinating and has become quite adept at the tricks she knows. Since her early teens Lyra has been a con-woman and scoundrel along with returning to her roots as a pickpocket now and then. She draws the line at murder and having grown up poor she won't steal from those who can't afford it at all but she has delighted in stealing from the rich and stupid and recently made a powerful enemy in the merchant's guild. She is now looking to lay low for a while or even skip town altogether until the heat dies down. RP Sample: The townhouse window opened and a lithe figure lowered a rope, working her way down with practiced ease and pausing only to make sure her plumed hat was in place. Dropping lightly to her feet in the alley Lyra smirked and untangled the rope, before making an arcane gesture and reciting a cantrip to close the window behind her. She knew well that guild master would not return to his townhouse for an hour yet and when he found both his new chambermaid and several of his more portable object d'art missing... well Lyra would be safely away by then. The young half-elf cheerfully departed the alley, pleased not only with her success but also that after three days of wearing a drab servant's clothes in order to infiltrate the townhouse she could don her own attire. Long cons could make a lot of gold but by the gods they had their drawbacks... A little later and she was enjoying her well (albeit dishonestly) earned lunch, and chuckling at the blacksmith's joke when the earthquake or whatever was struck. "Ye gods the pies aren't that bad!" she yelped, jumping to her feet and joining the confused throng as they moved outside.

[JustSomeGuy]

Oskur Verit If we are but Grains of Sand on a Vast Beach, and the Gods are the Crabs that Walk Across Us... What then is the Sea? The Bones Character Name: "Old Oskur" Verit Class: Great Old Ones Warlock - Pact of the Tome Race: Aasimar Alignment: Chaotic Good Background: Silverpoint Hermit (custom based on Baldur’s Gate Hermit) Personality Trait 1: Money or Social Graces won’t save you from the crushing force of Entropy, so Oskur gave those up long ago. Food in his stomach and a warm dry blanket is all that he needs now. Personality Trait 2: The old Warlock often gets lost in his own thoughts and contemplations, becoming oblivious to his surroundings. He has learned much and forgotten more over the years, and he struggles to piece together fragments of memories into cohesive thoughts. Ideal: Freedom. Oskur would rather suffer in freedom than thrive in a cage. No chains will hold him and no oaths will bind him. He will live or die on his own terms. (Chaotic) Bond: He’s still seeking the peace that he pursued in his seclusion, and it still eludes him. Flaw: Constantly looking for a bigger picture to perceive and understand, the old Warlock is a seeker of secrets. Uncovering lost knowledge has already led to disaster once, and may well lead to it again. The Flesh Appearance He stands tall, or he used to. People tend to shrink with age, and Oskur hasn't been an exception. Almost six feet tall with broad but stooped shoulders, he sometimes remembers being a giant of a man. Light eyes are framed with wrinkled skin the color of sunbaked mud. It has been a long time since he has known a barber, and his steel-grey hair is long and wild. His beard is just as unkempt. The warlock stares deeply into the distance of his own mind. His clothes are roughly stitched together from discarded ship's canvas and the scraps one might find behind the leather worker's shop. Lost in thought, he effortlessly steps around horse droppings and over debris. Struck by a valuable piece of memory, the unarmed old man opens the battered brown journal he carries and quickly scribbles an illegible note between fragments of arcane formulae and amateur star charts. Description The old man shows a sad sort of kindness. The citizens of Silverpoint that have sat and shared a bit of street food with Oskur remember him fondly. People who take the time to earn his trust find him to be a surprisingly insightful and dedicated friend. He never asks for anything unreasonable, and always shares more than he should with the hungry urchins and broken soldiers. He tells people that the Universe will provide again tomorrow with forlorn confidence and a haunted look. Oskur Verit is plagued by visions of the stars and the memories of a horrible night he walked among them with his friends. He watches young adventuring parties wistfully, wanting to help while he still can but afraid he will be their doom. The world speaks to him, always. The wind whispers caution and the seas sing resilience. The night sky tells him to wait for the right time to travel again. Soon, the stars will align. The Spirit Backstory A native of Silverpoint, Oskur Verit was born into a prestigious bloodline and raised in the nice parts of the city. Gifted with a brilliant mind and an aptitude for magic, his future as an adventurer was a certainty. The boy was sent to study with the scholars of a local mage’s college after he came of age. Between spending time studying the world and studying the arcane, the young apprentice helped them recover lost tomes and artifacts for study. Soon enough a regular selection of assistants and bodyguards grew into a 'party' and together they delved into deep crypts and lost labyrinths. The Scion of the Verit family and his team soon became known for their ability to find anything, no matter how obscure, and were a favorite until the day they didn't come back.   "Come on, Verit... the Amulet of the Stars should be in the next chamber!" Martien, the dark-skinned halfling, was as exuberant as ever. How someone who wore so much leather didn't squeak constantly was as mysterious as the cavern around them. The expedition had started like so many others: hot jungles, dripping caves, mindless antagonists, and secret passages. Things began to take a turn for the strange, though. Predictably, the cave system gave way to underground ruins but not from any civilization that Oskur had ever encountered. The inscriptions were in an incomprehensible alphabet and the crumbling statues bore a decidedly aquatic aesthetic. Everywhere were decrepit astrolabes and engraved star charts far advanced from anything found back home. Even Zander, their quiet but steadfast paladin, seemed unnerved by the ruins of a civilization that had been utterly lost to time. The door in front of them was clearly meant to guard against intruders, but the locking mechanism was no match Martien. When it slid open on effortless gears, they saw their prize. Hanging from the ceiling of the open chamber was a massive orrery that somehow still rotated after all those years. At its center was a swirling nebula of faceted Amethysts. Proudly displayed on a pedestal below the gemstone stars was an ornate necklace with a purple amulet. "The gods be praised," Zander said, "The seeking spells were right again. Whatever knowledge this thing holds, let us bring it back to the college with haste. This whole place feels like a trap, yet unsprung." The heavily armored human glanced around the room, eyeing the unreadable engravings that ran along the walls. Oskur, the tall dark-haired wizard who resembled an athlete more than a scholar, strode toward the amulet with a quick nod. "I think, perhaps, you are right. Martien... can you examine this pedestal for traps before we proceed?" After the lithe little rogue gave them the all-clear, Oskur took the necklace in hand. Quite suddenly everything was not at all clear. The room went dark and then darker than dark. Suddenly, they were surrounded by tiny pinpricks of light that seemed to streak by them faster and faster. It was cold, and Oskur couldn't draw a breath. They were floating in what looked like a swirling cloud of lights and glowing sands. At its center was one giant lilac star. It could see them. Oskur saw the forms of his friends near him, their faces contorted in agonizing screams, but could hear nothing. The star could see them. The wizard who had spent his career facing any adversity head-on turned to face the massive celestial body. Its light burned at his mind, but he willed himself to face his end with dignity and pride. He would not turn away. He couldn't breathe. Everything went dark again. When Oskur woke up, he was laying on the cold stone of the Orrery's floor. His companions were piles of ash on the floor. He couldn't keep a thought together. He staggered to the surface. He needed to go home. Where was home? He saw his friends screaming in the silence of a thousand stars. One foot in front of the other. He needed time. Time to think. Without ever putting it on, he now wore the Lookie here, an Arcane Focus!Amulet of the Stars. After returning to Silverpoint, Oskur stuck to himself in the alleys of the harbor and open tenements. More than a few years had passed since he left to join the college, and there were few who would recognize him in his disheveled state. Slowly he pulled himself together, but he was still a pale shadow of the being he once was. Oskur felt that it was for the best that everyone assume that all were lost in the expedition. He never returned to the college. A library worth of magic had been burned from his mind, and he couldn't focus long enough to try to memorize even a single apprentice-level spell. There were a few things that he retained a knack for, though. Daydreams and fragments of memory get jotted down in his leatherbound journal, collecting bits of odd ritual for him to piece together. Whatever he was, he wasn't a wizard anymore. Over the years, he became an almost beloved fixture of the city's waterfront. Sometimes, the children of the dockworkers traded copper pennies for light shows. The addled Aasimar was recognized and appreciated in the slums and the alley camps. He was known for looking out for lost orphans and the beggars that grew too sick to care for themselves. The isolation suited him. The Spark RP Sample A bashful tiefling girl hides, partially obscured by a barrel of rainwater. She’s heard the stories of Old Oskur and she’s hungry. Parents long gone, the red-skinned little thing has been surviving off of crime and chance. Neither have been kind to her today. The crusty old man chews on the good parts of a moldy loaf of bread he found outside the ruined bakery. He doesn't seem to notice the child. Oskur's long coarse hair blends seamlessly with his overgrown beard like the main of a grey lion. Knobby hands tear a large chunk off and toss it in her direction. Tucking a strand of black hair behind curling horns, the urchin reaches out and takes the bread hesitantly. "Eat child. No reward for hunger," the Warlock mutters while slowly turning his head to look at her. The freckles on her face resemble lost constellations. The stars provide. "Wanna see Magic?" He raises an eyebrow quizzically, "What child doesn't?" She nods cautiously and slowly inches towards the sun-baked street mage. The miniature image of a tavern flickers into existence with deft hand movements and Oskur's chanted words. It is one she has seen before but never entered. "Recognize it, Girl?" he asks. She nods again. "Good, then go there," he reaches into a belt pouch and takes out a scrap of paper and a pair of pitted copper coins. The grey-haired caster pulls a charcoal pencil from somewhere in his beard and scratches a note on the paper before holding it out to her. "Take these." After the girl takes the message and coins, the mage waves his fingers again. The image changes to a kind-faced halfling man with short dark hair. "Garret. He'll be there. He'll help." He nods firmly, like the matter is settled, and takes another bite from his moldy loaf of bread. Old Oskur doesn't look up when the girl leaves to meet the tavern keeper. If his memory serves, and it often doesn't, the halfling is still looking for a new dishwasher. Better that than some of the alternatives ahead of her. As usual, his mind is already elsewhere. He watches the skies at night and the stars have been misbehaving. Far too many are falling and Silverpoint isn't due for any kind of prolonged shower. It may be foolish to think that it's connected to the incident at the bakery, but Old Oskur isn’t feeling like a fool. He pops the last of the bread into his mouth and chews on it idly while walking in the direction of the destroyed bakery. His curiosity demands answers. rumblerumblerumblerumblerumblerumblerumblerumblerumblerumblerumblerumble CRACK! Distant screams of panic follow close behind. Something curious is happening. Something curious indeed. Oskur picks up the pace...

[Touketsu]

I appreciate everyone's patience as I worked on my-

*drumroll*

... FEEDBACK!

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*phew* okay, I believe that's everybody! Seriously folks, these are some solid characters. Thank you for your stellar writing! Please let me know if you don't see feedback for your character above: Try as I might, I'm certainly not immune to username typing errors in secret fields. Otherwise, I look forward to any responses for those of you who choose to write them. And of course, I'm still welcoming new applications! I'll try to give feedback to anyone else who slips one in as well.

[Onward]

[Still_Pond]

Secret answers to secret feedback...

[Ballingray]

Thanks for the feedback, it is very much appreciated .

[RossN]

[JustSomeGuy]

Shhh.....

[Retry]

Thanks for taking the time to provide feedback, going to put a copy of my reply here with my app just to keep it all in one easy-to-find place

[hafrogman]

Top Secret
For your eyes only

[KhamLuc]

return of feed back in secret

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*phew* okay, I believe that's everybody! Seriously folks, these are some solid characters. Thank you for your stellar writing! Please let me know if you don't see feedback for your character above: Try as I might, I'm certainly not immune to username typing errors in secret fields. Otherwise, I look forward to any responses for those of you who choose to write them. And of course, I'm still welcoming new applications! I'll try to give feedback to anyone else who slips one in as well.[/QUOTE]

[Jrod]

My feedback to feedback is on my original application.

[OsmundCinderholt]

NOOT NOOT.

[AlphaZ]

[O2CXt3]

Secrets...