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  #16  
Old 07-31-2019, 07:22 AM
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Name: Diebin Gauner
Race: Half-Elf
Class: Warlock (Hexblade)
Gender: Male
Age: 42
Alignment: Unaligned
Appearance: Diebin, currently, looks like a fairly average travelling half-elf. He's dressed in comfortable travelling clothes and carrying a pack and a few pouches. Other than these he has a buckler and dagger strapped to his belt. He looks a little younger than his years to human eyes, due in part to his Elven blood, in part to his carefree smile and jovial attitude.
Personality: Urchin
Personality Trait: I think anyone who's nice to me is hiding evil intent.
Ideal: I help the people who help me - that's what keeps us alive.
Bond: I owe my survival to another urchin who taught me to live on the streets.
Flaw: I will never fully trust anyone other than myself.
Character History:Diebin likes it when things go his way, and will often take shortcuts to get there. He's easy to make friends with, but not the most reliable of people. Diebin will give the appearance of trusting an acquaintance, but keep his guard up internally, keeping his secrets despite his tendency to chatter.
Background:Diebin grew up right here in Tyran, running through the streets as a discarded orphan. He never knew his parent, his first memories being of an older boy, Philip, stealing bread to feed them both. Diebin's childhood was rough, he and Philip had to steal to survive and be quick on their feet to evade the law.

Diebin looked up to Philip, saw him as a father figure, or older brother, but that came to an end the day Philip's luck ran out. Caught by the guard, beaten and threatened the older boy (himself only 12 years old) gave up Diebin's hiding spot to the guards. When they came for him Diebin was in the back corner of the dark cellar underneath a brothel, that the boys called home. The sound of heavy boots tramping down the stairs set his heart to beating in a frenzy and when they burst into the room it was all he could do to keep from calling out.

Diebin's keen elven eyes let him track the men as they fumbled to light torches and he whispered under his breath, promising anyone anything if only they helped him to get out of this. His hand fell on a hilt in the darkness, a weapon he hadn't noticed in the many months of living in this hideout and he felt a click in his mind. The next thing he knew Diebin was stood over the corpses of two city guardsman, one badly burned and the other brutally cut across the throat. In a panic, he fled.

Several years passed and Diebin, now a young adult was taking commissions for thefts. The dagger he had found that night was still at his belt, used every day in his activities. He'd long since come to regard the weapon as his only real friend. On one job he managed to lift a nice cache of diamonds along with the boring paperwork he'd been asked to acquire for his client and was heading back when a voice in his head, a voice he'd designated Gauner over the years, whispered to him of a shop he should visit. Gauner usually knew what it was talking about, so Diebin followed it's instructions and fetched up at a strange little tailor's shop. Going inside he found an old gnome, who had just completed an item the like of which Diebin had never imagined. A set of clothes that could change appearance on a whim and, what would you know, the cost was the value of the diamonds he had lifted. Diebin thanked the gnome and thanked Gauner in his head as he strolled out of the shop a new man.

A few years later and with the help of his excellent clothes and a little paint Diebin had managed to become a minor city functionary called Amtlich, a human of modest, but comfortable, means who worked with outfitting the city watch. Of an evening he was frequently seen as Gandin, a noble elf, a little down on his luck and from out of town. Diebin's years of robbing traders paid off in his ability to mimic accents fairly well, particularly in established characters and his marvellous clothes and hybrid features allowed him to pull quick changes that kept his identities safe.

After several years of a comfortable life embezzling from the city and defrauding wealthy widows and widowers, Diebin slipped up and was cornered by a man who had found out about Gandin sleeping with his wife. Startled Diebin found himself wearing Amtlich's clothes and Gandin's face. Not a good combination. He took to his heels and quickly became... well as close to himself as he could. This brings him to now, where he, Diebin, an out of town, out of work adventurer is signing up for whatever work is going.

In Character Writing Sample: "Well er, you see, I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding." Diebin said, backpedalling towards the door as the large man continued his approach. Come on think the con man urged himself Ahk, I wish he'd just trip or something, I only need a moment to escape. As if cursed by Diebin's desires the man, Henri? Was that his name? stumbled on a piece of loose carpet and Diebin shot past him and out the door. Diebin turned down a side alley and fled, Henri hot on his heels.

When the big man turned the corner, rather than seeing a fleeing city official in foppish elvish fancy dress he was confronted with quite a different sight. A half-elf stood before him in the centre of the alley, legs set wide and dressed in dark, hooded clothes. The Half-elf caught Henri's eye and smiled evilly. "Expecting someone else, big man?" the dark hooded character started to slink forward, an evil stare affixing Henri and making his blood run cold. "Name's Gauner and I can't have you messing with my boy." A ripple in the air and suddenly a longsword was in Gauner's hand, Henri flinched, sure this was the weak little man he had chased into the alley, but equally sure he was looking at his death. Green flame licked along the blade as, with a smile, Gauner struck, the blade ripping into Henri and somehow... draining him even as he burned. With a laugh, Gauner dismissed the sword and turned to walk from the alley.

Diebin was breathing hard, he couldn't believe he'd managed to get out of there and outrun Henri. Guess the jigs up, he won't keep quiet, but it was a good run. thought Diebin, shrugging and, looking around, saw a recruiter offering work to adventurers. Diebin glanced down and smiled, he'd subconsciously switched to his traveller's garb, that would do. Approaching the man with a grin, Diebin offered his services.

Last edited by Drager; 08-10-2019 at 09:51 AM.
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  #17  
Old 07-31-2019, 08:04 AM
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Basic Info
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Name: Khouroli Trollmane

Race: Hill Dwarf

Class: Tempest Cleric

Gender: Male

Age: 62

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Appearance: A square made of muscle and hair. Bristly dark red hair that fans out over his chest and shoulders with two chin braids bound in gold hoops. His nose is flattened against his face courtesy of a youthful brawl that went the wrong way. He carries a maul, the head of which is a metal block that some would consider an anvil before a weapon.

Personality: There isn't a joke he's liked nor a tale he'd deign to listen to willingly. Overly serious and gruff, Khouroli takes the grumpy dwarf stereotype and turns it up to fifteen. Those who hear he has been given their name, know it is best to surrender rather than be brought in by the bounty hunter. When a criminal is wanted alive, clinging to their last breath counts as far as he is concerned. Some say he was once a warm and jovial person until his family was killed in a house fire started during a home invasion. A bunch of transients looking for food knocked over an oil lamp that set the Mountainhand family dwellings to a roaring inferno. Since that day, the joy of Khouroli was lost and the tireless bounty hunter was born.

Trust no one. Punish those who have broken the law. Condemn their guilty souls to the cold and lifeless plains of Hel.

Background: Bounty Hunter (Vigilante)

Personality Trait: I am incredibly slow to trust. Those who seem the fairest often have the most to hide.

Ideal: Morality. It's not enough to hunt them down. They have to understand what they've done is reprehensible.

Bond: Mindless thuggery stole the life of one I cherished, and the price they must pay is one I will collect.

Flaw: Contract or not, I never bring murder bounties back alive. They showed no mercy, and so neither will I.


Background and RP SampleCharacter History: Personal tragedy led to a life of vigilantism and brutality that has stretched from Braretia and Vathosia to the small backwater kingdom of Herland. The Mountainhand Clan of Braretia were known throughout the kingdom as an expert mercenary organization. Kept on retainer by the crown, they were used in all manner of applications from rooting out highwaymen, to shows of intimidation against the mountain dwarves of Konigard or even exploratory missions into Atavaria to learn of that fractured kingdom's weaknesses. The Mountainhand Clan home was a veritable fortress known as the Buried Keep as the structure went down into the ground rather than up into the air. The fire started in the first floor kitchens and quickly ignited any flammable stored there and spread to the foundry where the furnace fuel was kept. Once this caught, the entire top floor of the complex was engulfed in searing flame. The metal supports that held the stonework in place, weakened and gave way creating a cascade effect that dropped each floor onto the one below it, killing the entire Mountainhand Clan save for the youngest son, Khouroli, who had been out past curfew drinking ale and carousing bearded dwarvish women.

He should have died with his family that night but he was spared that honor due to his weaknesses for drink and women. Such things would never deny him his destiny again.

In Character Writing Sample: Tyran. He never would have come here of his own accord but that last mark had proved a difficult one to catch up to. Not difficult to track but difficult to overtake on the road. When the murderous bastard had finally been ended, Khouroli had found himself in poor standing with the local law. They did not appreciate some dwarf from Braretia coming into their city and meting out justice without their approval. Luckily, the man had already been wanted for murder in Tyran ten years past and so the guard gave Khouroli a pass but also a stern warning not to take their law into his hands any longer. The road back home was long and he would need to replenish his coin purse and supplies before leaving the city. The guard wasn't about to provide him with any work, so he turned to a local agent to facilitate a profitable job.

Old ale and unwashed crevices oozed off the man known as Gaigon Horner as Khouroli sat across from the agent at a table in the Wasted Kestrel tavern near the docks. Khouroli sucked a wad of mucus into his throat and spit it on the floor near the man's feces covered boots. He was disgusting even for a human.

"Nothin' that'll interfere with the guard, mind you," Khouroli continued as he laid out his requirements for work. "They didn't take a liking to me knockin' off Billy Ten-cuts on account of him murderin' a noblewoman ten years back but I had him on a string of killin's all through Vathosia. So, legal work not steppin' on the toes of the guard worth a hefty purse. I've a long trek ahead of me and I'd like to make it soon. This town is too quiet for a dwarf like me to make much of a livin'."

When his deal with the agent was completed, Khouroli left the tavern with a disgusted grunt. Liquor and ale led to nothing but lost dreams and wasted hopes. Let others sink into the despair found at the bottom of a bottle. He had a warehouse to find.
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Last edited by tomplum; 08-08-2019 at 07:07 AM.
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  #18  
Old 07-31-2019, 08:15 AM
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App complete on the fiery tempered, dual whip wielding Red Sierra.

Character Concept
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Name: "Red Sierra" Gallenius
Race: Half Elf
Class: Fighter 3 (Battle Master) / Rogue 2
Gender: Female
Age: 21
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Background: From "Ghosts of Saltmarsh", info provided below in secret text.Smuggler



Appearance:
Red Sierra is a taller than average young woman with a lithe build and shockingly bright long red hair. She typically keeps her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and she is fine boned and attractive. Her eyes are a deep green and have a fierce look to them, one which shows she does not back down easily to whomever stands against her. She has a small nose and full lips, and a light sprinkling of freckles upon her cheeks which give her a youthful appearance. She appears lithe and sturdy, with muscular arms and powerful looking and shapely legs, and the way she carries herself reminds you more of a man than a chamber maid. She wears dark brown leathers over her frame for protection, with a pair of high boots that tie above each knee. Coiled at either side of her waist is a black leather whip, with a brace of daggers by each whip. When she speaks her voice is obviously feminine but a bit deeper than the average female, and her local accent is strong.

Personality:
Red Sierra is a fast talking, friendly young woman who dislikes authority or being told what to do. She is adventurous and likes to push the limit, and will often try to do something just because someone said she couldn’t. An opportunist and entrepreneur at heart, she will jump at any chance to earn coin to support herself without the help of others. She is fiercely independent although she does recognize the value of working as a team - it’s a lot harder for someone to slit your throat when you have others watching over you while you sleep. She works well with others provided they don’t boss her around - if they do, they may expect a punch to the chops. Her moral compass is flexible but overall she strives to be a good person in her own eyes. Brace and daring, Red Sierra isn’t afraid to take risks and push the envelope if there is a worthy cause behind it - even if it’s just a big pay day.

Personality Trait:
I never pay attention to the risks in a situation - she who dares wins. I know how to manipulate others to get what I want, but I only do it when I need to. I can be as stubborn as a mule and hot tempered to boot.

Ideal:
I like to be my own boss, and always question what others tell me.

Bond:
I am estranged from my family and desperately want for them to accept me back, but I am too proud to beg for their forgiveness.

Flaw:
I have a soft spot in my heart for children, and will risk my own life to help them.

 


 


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Last edited by Grouchy; 08-08-2019 at 08:40 AM.
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  #19  
Old 07-31-2019, 09:21 AM
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For a while now I've wanted to play a campaign where I could play a Mastermind Rogue, and reading the description I thought that maybe that class would work in this adventure. But then you said in a comment that you are going for "a classic RPG feel". Would that mean that the intrigue and social side of the game will be, well, about normal for a 5e game (i.e. not at the fore)? It seems that the group will start off in a classic-style dungeon crawl anyway.

If a Mastermind isn't particularly suited I can come up with another concept anyway, I just thought I'd get some clarification.
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  #20  
Old 07-31-2019, 10:39 AM
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Billious "Billy" Manger
Stout Halfling Death Cleric
Gender: M
Age: 43
Alignment: LN

Appearance: Small even by halfling standards and dressed in dark dapper clothes, Billy is the consumate undertaker writ tiny. His style is understated, wearing a funerary suit at all times. His face is clad in thick brown moustaches that join with his hair to create a window to his face at his eyes. When travelling Billy wears a wide brimmed hat to keep the elements off of his face, but when performing his duties he removes the hat to reveal a head that is beginning to bald prematurely.

Personality: More comfortable around the dead than the living, Billy was probably born to be an undertaker. Efficient but distant, Billy sometimes makes for a cold companion. He performs his duties with the utmost care for the dead, and yet somehow the living have a hard time finding close comfort from the strange little halfling. Though he isn't a rock for families in grief, his efficiency and care in taking care of loved ones has earned Billy more than a little affection from those who he deals with.

Background: Guild Artisan (Undertakers Guild)
Personality Trait: I dedicate myself to a task and see to it that it is fully accomplished before moving on to the next.
Ideal: Professionalism. Everyone deserves to have their needs treated with due care and diligence.
Bond: I found solace from tragedy with the masters of the Undertakers Guild, the care of the dead returned meaning to my life.
Flaw: I find the living can be irksome, I become irritable if force to spend too much time interacting with them.


Character History: WIP
In Character Writing Sample: WIP

Last edited by davide15; 07-31-2019 at 10:45 AM.
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  #21  
Old 07-31-2019, 10:54 AM
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Whoops, just realized I forgot to specify that Samuel is a half-elf. Sorry, fixed!
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  #22  
Old 07-31-2019, 12:33 PM
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Name: Farrow Stringer
Race: Human
Class: Ranger
Gender: Male
Age: 32
Alignment: Neutral Good


Background: Outlander
Trait: I place no stock in wealthy or well-mannered folk. Money and manners won’t save you from a hungry owlbear.
Ideal: The natural world is more important than all the constructs of civilization
Bond: I fight for those who cannot fight for themselves.
Flaw: I am slow to trust members of other races, tribes, and societies.


Appearance: Farrow is of average build and height for a human. Often spending long stretches of time in the wild, he is usually seen wearing earthen colored clothes and armor that has been mended more than once. A sword and dagger are always at his hip and an unstrung bow, quiver, bedroll and small pack are usually on his back. Over it all, he wears a long hooded cloak that has been faded by countless seasons in the elements.

Personality: Although Farrow appears a recluse from the wild, and rightfully so, he feels equally at home chatting in the bar with his friends, a long stemmed pipe usually in his hand. He often assists those that are lost or need escorting through dangerous or unfamiliar land, seeking nothing or little in return.

Character History: Farrow had been raised in a small farm about a days ride from Tyran. His mother had, in fact, gone into labor while at the farm while feeding the animals in the morning. He was delivered adjacent to the pig pen, subjecting him to the name Farrow.

He spent his youth working on the farm, but as the years wore on, he could not suppress the wanderlust that he felt. He would see travelers on the road and in town and always wonder where they were from or where they were going. Despite the reticence of his parents, he left the farm when he was seventeen. They assumed he would return after a spell, wiser after learning he was better of at the farm. He never did.

Hunting, tracking, guiding, occasionally bounty hunting, Farrow took various odd jobs as they arose, all the while sending most of the money he made back home to his parents. This lasted for more than ten years, until he received word that they had both died of a sickness. Upon returning home, he learned that many in the area, especially the young and old, had become victim to the same illness, one that was far his skill to heal They had passed in the night, tackling their sickness in the same way they had done everything in their life: together. It saddened him that he had not been there to be with them while they passed, but took some solace in the fact that they had each other.

He buried them behind the house, beneath an old tree that the three of them would sometimes have a picnic under when he was young. He sold the farm after that, giving the money to an orphanage in Tyran, having no use for either.

He wandered farther after that, no longer feeling beholden to stay near his parent's farm. He felt slightly ashamed at the feeling of true freedom he now enjoyed. As winter set in, he found himself returning to Tyran, hearing from his usual contacts of someone offering a job...

In Character Writing Sample: Farrow had tracked them to a small cave along the shore a mile or so from the city. There had been reports of numerous people gone missing: sailors going out for the day to fish and never to return, nearby farmers, even a young boy. They had to be stopped.

His torch flickered off the wet rock walls of the cave, but did little to keep back the pervasive dampness in the air. Some bones, discarded in a pile along the wall, told him he was in the right place. Kneeling beside them, he could tell right away they belonged to the boy that had gone missing. Farrow's jaw tightened at the thought of what the boy's parents will have to go through when he brings them back his remains. A problem for later.

He threw the torch to the ground and pulled out and strung his bow, knocking an arrow. The first harpy came into view, clinging to the rocks near the ceiling of the cave. He could tell she was singing by her lips moving. A smile broke the corner of his mouth as she cocked her head in surprise as he raised the bow, not knowing that his ears were thoroughly stuffed with mud and rags. The arrow left the string and found its mark between her eyes a second later. As it dropped to the ground, he realized the other was flying at him from behind, likely screeching as it came. He threw the bow to the ground and dove forward in a role, drawing his sword as he rose...

An hour later he stood outside the cave, tying down the last of the harpy heads to his horse, the bag of bones already having been stowed. The heads will earn him some coin, but he considered what he had to do now to be the most difficult task of all.

Last edited by Silent Rain; 08-08-2019 at 09:21 PM.
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  #23  
Old 07-31-2019, 01:35 PM
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Ready for approval ... will complete/modify later the CharSheet if choosen

Deamyss Roussoss
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Name: Deamyss Roussoss
Race: Human (Variant)
Class: Mystic
Gender: Male
Age: 49
Alignment: CG
Appearance description: From his average height, he seems to be very curvy. Like if he supports a heavy burden on his shoulder. If somebody observes him well, he can find that if Deamiss take a normal position, he should be a massive man. Wearing anything that anybody trash away, vestment and trinket alike. Trinket that he's hooked on a belt or anywhere that can hold them on his person.
Personality: Deamyss is an antisocial hobo. Who, due to trauma, got a Psychological scar. He wants to gather a collection of trinket that he can wear and without stealing them. "Mother doesn't like that... and Mother hit too hard to disobey."
Background: Cloister scholar
Personality Traits: I watch over my friends as if they were a litter of newborn pups...
Personality Traits: I place no stock in wealthy or well-mannered folk. Money and manners won't save you from a hungry owlbear.
Ideal: Greater Good. It is each person responsibilities to make the most happiness for the whole tribe
Bond 1: I suffer awful visions of a coming disaster and will do anything to prevent it.
Bond 2: He lives in secret backyard of a temple in the City, he owns all his life to that Clerc organization.
Flaw: Fire Rutschreck in a fumble (1 natural): painful Flashback from Past and near present
Character History: As far as he can remember, he was raised in a little chapel. This religious unknown manor was in the village that serves as a decoy on a savage border if an invasion comes in. Meanwhile, the chapel has a mission to try to adopt lost savage child, educate them, and transfer them in the city afterward in the Temple of Waterdeep. Deamyss was one of those lost child bring out from the wood.

Always trying to please "Mother", he usually accepts to do any burden request by nearly anybody in fear of negative feedback from the Old Mother of the Temple ( Sister Theressa ); Mother is an old secret monk that hide there to finish her old days quietly. She raises Deamyss as her favor Child, but to be sure to not show that to anybody, she was hard on him ... very hard on him. Developing ancient technic with him all day and secret healing and mental hardness during the night on the basement of the Chapel. And there it goes nearly the three-quarter of his life. Taking care of all shitty job that can exist. He was not a slave, but he was "paid" for his kindness. Mother gives her trinket. He likes it so much. Trinket was his favorite value since he got a near-death. A difficult exercise of climbing in the dark as badly end. He falls on the head and beeing two months in a coma. After that, he always walks half-crouch and not exactly communicate very well, despite his great understanding.

Mother Earth, like he always calls her, has now returned to dust and was buried by Deamyss himself in the little cemetery without great public awareness. But Deamyss will remember her like she's always alive, watching him from the sky and around all the darkest corner of every wall.

Now that he's old and alone, no more washing washroom, or shitty thing. He gets out of the Temple to go explore the big city. Until there and away, anything goes.

He lives in secret backyard of a temple in the City. He owns all his life to the Clerc organization. Knowing that he doesn't understand the concept of money... if they ask him aid to investigate for the theft of 500,000Gp, in exchange of full bag of trinket ... It's the kind of deal that Deamyss can't refuse!


 



Character Sheet

Last edited by KhamLuc; 08-08-2019 at 02:57 PM.
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  #24  
Old 07-31-2019, 01:44 PM
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@Lazer - That concept would actually work very well for what I have laid out for this campaign.

I will update the table with the new applicants and update the ad to include the information about the Pantheon. I am a little busy IRL, so it might be a few hours. The applications are looking awesome so far. Thanks everyone.
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Old 07-31-2019, 02:36 PM
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Application
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Name: Laureline Valentino
Race: Human (Variant)
Class: Paladin (Oath of Vengence)
Gender: Female
Age: 23
Alignment: Lawful Good
Appearance: Laureline is a slight young woman, but what might appear to be a fragile frame is tightly packed with lean muscle. Her long, ginger hair flows free and loose around her shoulders. Once pale, delicate skin has been weathered by long spans at sea. Overall she exudes a sense of coiled action, ready to bust forth.

Personality: Peppery. People often find Laureline bracing at first, but after they become more accustomed to her, many find her reassuringly warm. She has an eagerness about her, tempered with a inconsistent confidence that sometimes leads her to doubt her own path and sometimes has her charging off ahead.

Background: Sailor
  • Personality Trait: I might fail, but I will never give up.
  • Ideal: Bravery. To know no fear is stupidity. To keep moving despite your fears is the essence of courage.
  • Bond: I have sworn vengeance on the Tieflings and those that follow them.
  • Flaw: A dark secret prevents me from ever going home again. Trouble seems to follow me around.
Character HistoryIt was five years ago, the day before my eighteenth birthday and I would be shipping out in the morning. For nearly two decades, my parents had been pressuring me to follow in their footsteps, studying the arcane. I had always possessed a more martial bent, and needed to pursue a life of my own choosing. I had signed on with the merchant marine and would start my new life on the morrow. All that remained was to tell them. So naturally, I had stayed out late, trying to delay the confrontation and inevitable argument for as long as possible.

It was long past nightfall when I made my way home. The lights were still on, and through the windows I could see my parents moving against the curtains. I braced myself and went in, only to find myself face-to-face with two fiendish figures, red-skinned and horned! I drew my blade and attempted to move against them, only to be thwarted with ease by their magics. They spoke to me then with the voices of my mother and father, and eventually I came to understand the truth. They had done this to themselves. I wept then, for my parents were truly dead, slain by their own machinations and replaced by these monsters. They bound me in place with foul sorcery and discussed if they should kill me, casually discussing the fate of their only child.

Before they could come to a decision, I found the strength to resist from somewhere deep within. I fled into the night and hid. I sat huddled in the darkness and swore vengeance against the dark forces that had claimed my parents. However I have not returned home since I left Atavumia that dawn. The next time we made port, I found a new ship headed further and further west, away from my parents and everything I knew. In my travels I hear tales of what in transpiring at home. Dark magic consumes the land, and evil bubbles to the surface wherever it finds a foothold. I was afraid, and weak. But I have grown strong. It is time to stop running. It is time to face darkness wherever I find it.

In Character Writing Sample"Yer sure I can't convince you to stay on for another run, Valentino? Got a shipment of woolens bound for Mourland. It's supposed to be a cold winter out West, seller's market."

Laureline smiled up at Captain Hardin. He'd been a better employer than many, and a good friend for the past eighteen months. But the time had come to move on. She shook her head with more than a little regret. "I'm sorry, Captain. I'm being called along another heading these days. It's been an honor sailing under your command." And it had been. Times were troubled, pirates had been plying the waters in greater numbers than ever. She had lost track of the number of times she'd fought side-by-side with the Captain against all manner of foes. Orc raiders, professional corsairs, but more often than not, just desperate men driven to extremes by a world plagued by dark tidings.

"Alright then, Lass." Laureline rolled her eyes a little at his term of endearment, but didn't break her smile. Even after more than a year serving under him, he still slipped up occasionally and thought of her as a little girl. "But, be careful." He paused and looked out over Tyran. "There's something rotten in this city. I can smell it."

Laureline shivered, more in anticipation than in fear. She'd sensed the same thing. "I know. That's why I'm staying." The words were practically a whisper, but they carried with them a statement of purpose. A promise to seek out and challenge the darkness instead of turning a blind eye.

Captain Hardin nodded grimly at Laureline's words. "Well then. I passed your name to a fellow named Gaigon Horner. He's a good... well, he's a reasonable..." He paused as his better nature warred with his innate sense of honesty, and his face screwed up. "He's a bloke, at any rate. He'll pass work your way if he finds any, and like as not, with all that's going on these days, he'll end up sending trouble your way too."

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Last edited by hafrogman; 07-31-2019 at 11:21 PM.
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Old 07-31-2019, 04:34 PM
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The table is up to date. I didn't include those that expressed interest, only applications that had at least the basic information.

Please post on here when your application is complete, unless it is already marked on the table.
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Old 07-31-2019, 05:20 PM
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WIP APPLICATIONName: Orik Wyvernspine
Race: Mountain Dwarf
Class: Barbarian - Path of the Ancestral Guardian
Gender: Male
Age: 56
Alignment: Neutral Good
Appearance: Underneath a wide steel helm rest two hard brown eyes. The large dwarf's eyes study you as he strokes a thick coffee-colored beard. The dwarf shrugs as he sees you mean no harm, and withdraws a long pipe. Placing some of his precious tobacco into it, he lights the pipe, offering you a draft. Though young, the dwarf's face is worn, showing the wrinkles of one who is seeking their destiny without success thus far. "Hail. The name's Orik. Care for a drink?" Leaning forward over the bar, Orik requests two ales from the barkeep.

Orik's travelling clothes are worn and dirty. Along his side hangs his battleaxe, and strapped to his pack is a pickaxe. Reaching into the pack, Orik retrieves a depressed coin pouch, and withdraws two silver pieces. Rubbing them between his thumb and forefinger, he sets them on the bar and slides them along the wooden bar in exchange for the alcohol. With a nod of thanks, he offers one ale to you, and settles in. Sipping his drink, he listens curiously to your tales of the east.
 



Personality: Orik is a little bit taciturn. He values those who say a lot using few words. Despite his aversion to small talk, Orik is very thoughtful and loyal. If an ally has something important to say, Orik listens well and will do what he can to support them.

Orik also has a strong sense of duty. The Wyvernspine's are a proud family, with a belief that their ancestors watch over them and aid them. Along his arms and chest are self-made tattoos. They are rough and drawn with the tip of a dagger, but they represent the great deeds of the Wyvernspines that he hopes to live up to. When in battle, Orik can call upon the spirits of his ancestors to aid him.

Background: Miner
Personality Trait:
  1. Anything worth doing takes time and patience. I have learned to plan and wait for the things I want and to be patient to achieve my goals.
  2. I wish I were more educated. I look up to people who are.
Ideal: I wish to be recorded in the annals of the Wyvernspines as having completed great deeds.
Bond:
Flaw:
Character History:
In Character Writing Sample: (For this character please.)
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Last edited by Tommyk382; 08-02-2019 at 12:50 PM.
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Old 07-31-2019, 07:51 PM
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Application; Complete!
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Name: Flora Fallenstar
Race: Human (V)
Class: Bard (College of Lore)
Gender: Female
Age: 28
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Appearance: Flora is a slip of a girl whose slender yet muscular build and fair features looks much younger than her age of 28. She has straight red hair that she would keep untied as much as she could help it, and walks with the gait and swagger of a warrior. Outside court, she can usually be seen in taverns and inns, playing some tawdry ditty with her pipes, joining in some small-scale gambling, or exchanging insults with drunkards, though she's never been much of a drinker. She handles a rapier just as well as a bow, and could be seen with either weapon, albeit rarely.

Personality: Flora's whole life has been one of service. Even as a child she served her father and played the prim and proper daughter; that didn't change much when she was adopted by Lady Yvraine. In fact, she served her Lady in more ways than many would ever know, for she spied on the rest of the noble court and reported her observations to her adoptive mother. Therefore lying and underhanded tactics are a matter of course to her, and neither does she feel any remorse for doing so; in the circles she frequented, those were simply how everyone played the game. She's also used to keeping her own thoughts to herself, and would never mention her desire to be off on her own to Yvraine; she kept Flora on a tight leash. Thus, Flora isn't exactly fond of the woman who raised her but used her as a tool for her own advancement, but couldn't help but feel a sense of duty to serve her mother as a way to repay her for the real protection, status, and succor she's been granted growing up.

Background: Criminal Variant
Personality Trait: I always have a plan for what to do when things go wrong.
Ideal: Freedom. Chains are meant to be broken, as are those who would forge them. (Chaotic)
Bond: I'm trying to pay off an old debt I owe to my benefactor: The Lady Yvrain Margery Fallenstar, First of her House, of the noble court of Vathosia.
Flaw: I turn tail and run when things look bad.
Spy

Character History: Flora was always good at running. She first learned that skill when her father dragged his household out of Braretia three years ago, when allied houses of the then would-be Boy King Aldo Ibos IV were being driven out of the country. Fearing for his family's life, they fled to the neighboring realm of Vathosia. Thanks to his intrepid skill at pissing off people in high places however, only a few months passed before he found himself bereft of friends and wealth, and totally beholden the the crown of the Human Heartland. When he was summoned before the king, Flora never her saw her father again. Her mother had died long since, unable to cope with the sudden change in their lifestyle and disappointed by her poor choice of a husband. As for the girl, one of the ladies in the high court took a shine to the young redhead, and since she was basically property of the kingdom, adopted her as her own daughter. Lady Yvraine was known to be whimsical, prone to fly in a fit one moment and sing the next. That was a mere smokescreen, however; she was at heart a player of The Game, and was always calculating and cunning with her every move. She was utterly ambitious, and although on the outside she played the part of mother to an adopted orphan stunningly, in truth the Lady raised Flora under the most rigorous of training; equal parts combat, arcane art, and manners at court.

Even now Flora's strings still dance to the Lady Yvraine's tune as she serves Queen Verita's house as one of their many freelance servants. As far as the Tyran kingdom knows, all Flora is a young woman out to make a name for herself, with the tiniest bit of apparent ambition; certainly not enough to pose a threat to either the Queen or her Royal Consort. Only Flora knows that Yvraine has plans for this tiny kingdom, though she herself knew not what that plan was.

Flora's most recent quest from the Queen was to investigate the truth about what was happening in the catacombs, and put a stop to anything that might upset the peace and relative prosperity of the realm. As she listens to the waves at the docks near Blackfin and Kipper, waiting for her contact to arrive, the young spy ponders what it would feel like to have a life of her own...

In Character Writing Sample:
 
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Last edited by DanshiiWithWulfs; 08-08-2019 at 04:27 AM.
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  #29  
Old 07-31-2019, 09:36 PM
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@DanshiiWithWulfs - I didn't plan on using the factions. There are guilds and similar organizations in other parts of the world, but in this country they don't have a presence. This is due to pressures from the nobles.

You can, of course, have a personal code that your character lives by or works towards.
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Old 07-31-2019, 10:21 PM
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Oh, thanks for answering that, @Pendragon. g

I instead am modifying my concept to that of a Spy, so she's still serving a higher power (working for the crown of Vathosia), but not quite as all encompassing as a Forgotten Realms faction.
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