[D&D-5e] Yeohven: Fall from Grace

[Sylivis]

will you let us know whenever you have finished letting those who've you accepted know?

[gotha]

Thanks for the chance to apply.

[Sylivis]

Yes, thankyou.

[MontageManiac]

@Sylivis: yes I will let everyone know once decisions have been made. Will take a little while for me to figure it out though. Haha. So don't expect notifications earlier than a week from now.

[MontageManiac]

Applications are open again! I am currently looking for 4-5 players to come aboard with Group C.

Please refer to initial post for character details, along with world stuff. Feel free to ask questions.

Looking forward to seeing what people come up with! Deadline is Sunday, March 10th. Looking to begin the game ASAP.

Cheers!

-MM

[Odyssey]

Posting interest!

Edit: You mentioned some early steampunk elements. Would you allow the Gunslinger class by Matt Mercer, in that case?

[MontageManiac]

Potentially, but getting a gun is going to be an endeavor. Currently there is one in existence being played in the game, BUT, that doesn’t mean there wouldn’t be new ones... but it’s not something you’d start the game with, so take that into account if you’re ok with that.

[MeredithS]

Hiya Montage,
Very interested, I was wondering, is the level still start 2 almost 3, as in the initial ad?

[MontageManiac]

Yep. I changed initial ad so that info is current. I’ll probably give deadline an extra week considering the... level of interest. Lol.

[MeredithS]

Completed Application: Feedback welcome and appreciated critique, open to change what is needed.

The Nutshell... Nyx Darkwaters Blood Bargainer " I'm not the devil, I'm the dance you take with him." Name Race Class Alignment Homeland Nyx Darkwaters Tabaxi Lvl 2 Blood Hunter Chaotic Neutral Nandeasia

The not so long ago past...

 

Apperance On a good day, Nyx is well groomed, his ivory fur shinning, the black of his stripes free of matting. His traveling garments of worn brown leather and a hefty fur lined coat keep him warm in the winter seasons while his warmer wear generally consists of an open vest tunic and breathable cotton material trousers. On a good day, his foot and arm wraps are clean of soot and dirt, his heavy pack, though seen better days, buckled up and secured in an orderly state, resting on his back. Today, though, was not a good day. In fact, it was a bad day. Or should we say...bad night. The light of the flickering candle flame dances in his narrow pupil, his eye patch covering his left eye,provides a single green glint from his right. Just setting up camp, only a few days away from Abhain Calmir, Nyx takes rest for the remainder of the moonless night. Not one to offer himself up as bait, he had doused his campfire just before twilight had taken the sky, enjoying the last of the small hare caught in his trap earlier that day. His sandpaper tongue licked the dry skin of his parched lips. His water skin had ran dry the day before and only seawater was left around him, less he strayed off his charted route. Just leaving the outskirts of the Eternal Forest regions, he still had half a day or so before the next opportunity for fresh water would come about, at least naturally. With the pack used as a pillow, Nyx leans his solid, furry frame against it, his back seemingly to find every lump or hard piece of gear stored neatly within. Turning around, the wide pads of his paws gently kneed the pack for several minutes before he's content with the feel of it on his spine. He'd have to remember to set it up differently in the sun's hours. Just as he finally curled into comfort, tucking his head into his torso, legs brought to meet the wide brim of his pinkish nose, was when he heard the shuffling of footsteps. The tuff on his ears twitched with the abrupt sound, jarring his alarm and springs to his feet with one quick leap into the air. With haste, he pulls his longswords out from their sheaths, his left hand gripping the right sword, his right hand to the left. Hunching down, his gritty throat growls as his sharp teeth clench in his defense. Several hours later, finding himself in a disheveled mess, Nyx grips the jail cell slats in his fists. Deep gashes, drying blood (some areas still wet and refusing to coagulate), a blackened and still swelling right eye, of course it had to be his good eye, were all visible signs that the Tabaxi had indeed been on the losing end of the short fight just hours before. His pack and swords were set against the wall just outside of the cell, the pack completely tore open and rummaged through by the lawmen who had arrested him. An audible hiss of displeasure filtered itself from his still un-quenched throat. Giving up on the slats of the cell walls, Nyx pushes off of it and turns to discover two others in the cell with him... It was most definitely, a bad night.

Personality "Will this night never end!? Nyx couldn't help but grumble in his growing discontentment with the situation he had found himself in. Jade eyes seem to sear into his cellmates as he realizes they had been the ones he'd been brawling with before the lawmen came and broke them up. A striped paw rubs the back of his neck, a horrible ache, now beginning to throb between his shoulders. Trying to rotate the cuff, proved futile."You sons of hags... you dislocated my shoulder!" His jaw once again clenching in his quick flare of anger, though it was slowly turning into more annoyance then rage. Nyx paced, his long, thick tail swiping with frustration and flicking itself against the cell slats. Of all the luck...One moment minding his own business, the next...these two ruffians pouncing on him from out of nowhere...Who does that? He'd never seen them in his life, hell he wasn't even from this region, it wasn't like anyone knew him. His curiosity began to flicker. There had to be more to this then just a couple of bandits trying to sack his belongings...these two...No, not bandits, he decides with certain rationale. The anger and annoyance begin to subdue into question and wonderment. "Lets start over fellas. I'm Nyx Darkwaters..."

The need for a healer...

 

The Field Medic The medic continues to look me over, mindless chatter and useless questions break the awkward silence in the field tent. I suppose she's just not content with my answer of "I'm fine." With a heavy sigh escaping a tired and worn down body, or maybe it was last nights round of cups, I oblige her some answers, hoping to sate her questioning. "So, Mr. Darkwaters..." of course I interrupt..."It's just Nyx, lets stick with that." Oops, I screwed this up already by the look on the girl's face. If I could shrug I would, but my shoulder was being relocated and that wouldn't of felt good...she continues anyhow.."Alright Mister Nyx" I roll my one good eye..."How did you get here?" "How did I..." what kind of question was that? How does anyone get anywhere. I'm not a rude feline, though I am a bit irritable with this line of questioning from this nosy nurse. In keeping with politeness however, I offer a prickly smile.." I was takin' care of some business up North a ways and I didn't get to finish it." "Well then, why have you come?" I stare at her, a blank expression I am sure has now appeared on my face. I am not amused. "I believe I just answered that question love." ....and the girl just looks at me, like I'm supposed to continue...I shift a bit in the uncomfortable wooden chair she has me sitting at."After the, ahem, business transaction that went downhill,I looked for the closest town to find a healer... a real one." Thinking that would put a stop to this nonsense, she continued anyhow. My mouth pouts with disappointment. "So..when did it start?" Ah! A question that made sense finally. " Oh... let's see, right about when I left the North and after the issue I was dealing with, the pain just started to radiate from my neck down to the middle of my shoulder blades. It's a dull throb most of the time, but I can't move my...." The medic is shaking her head at me, waving her pointer finger sideways in my face...the urge to swipe my paw at it overcomes my reasonable senses for a moment, but I just stop and blink in silence. "That's not what I meant Mister Nyx." My whiskers twitch. CRAACK! Yep. That would of been my shoulder...Every hair on my body raises in alarm and I'm almost jumping out of my fur, definitely the chair, as I watch it tumble over with a thud on the soil floor of the medical tent. The girl doesn't seem to flinch with my slew of curse words and dance of pain. Her expression makes me stop and I realize how ridiculous I probably look. I can finally shrug again, and testing the movement regained in my shoulders, I do. "Sorry. That hurt more then I thought it would of, a warning would of been nice lass." "I didn't want to interrupt the best part of your story though"...My eyes dilate as they narrow... is she screwin with me? I tip the chair back up with my foot and sit back down so she can continue fixin' my other issues. Add mental breakdown to the list if I have to endure anymore questions. The nurse begins to spread a thick ointment over the deep bruising buried beneath my bloodied fur, long since dried and stuck in patches around my neck and back. At least she's got a gentle hand, wish she had a quiet mouth. Her investigation continues to strike my remaining nerves. "Have you met anyone interesting along the way?I bet you make friends easily" ...I knew it.. she's definitely screwin around with me at this point. What lowly gods have I offended to deserve such verbal inquisition this morning?! "Tavern folk mostly, occasionally the wanton lass here and there, a couple others I suppose that I won't likely forget anytime soon." I knew better then to talk about my short jail stint just days ago, no reason to divulge information like that to someone like this. I feared she'd of started asking questions about the two I had shared my cell with and where they were from, how they got there... what their middle name was. Hell. "What is the point?" Tricky tricky girl. She came seeking well developed answers to questions that make little sense and then tries to sneak in some deep psychologically based question, oozing with philosophical jabs and intellectual debate? Hmph. I ain't fallin for that one. "The tip of my sword...Next." She finishes with the ointment, seems to finally be finished with her laundry list questionnaire, I can only wonder if she's writing a book about all the travelers she's met here in the medical tent as her mouth opens for one last interrogating pin prick of my mind. She wipes her hands on her dirty grey apron and asks..."What's next?" She must be finished, so I stretch my arms far over my head, for the first time in three days. Gods did that feel divine... a purr even escaped in my pleasure. " Someplace you're not." I flipped her a gold piece, gave a small bow, and turned to the door to finally continue onward to the lead I was following from my previous business encounter up North.

Ghosts of the past, future endeavors and everything in between...

 

Background Nandeasia Upon the coastal farmlands of Nandeasia, Nyx Darkwaters played in the pebbled beach just beyond his family home with his two brothers, Eycee and Shalo. The three boys splashed and tumbled around close to the rocky shoreline, young and full of mischief and chagrin. Their parents watched in a peaceful embrace against each other as their small litter grew strong and eager to experience all there was in the world around them. So content in their admiration within the moment, they didn't see the three shadowy beings beginning to emerge from just beyond their children in the water, past the tidal rocks and boulders that rose in jagged edges from the dark sea. As realization crept into being, their happiness drained from their expression as horror took it's place. One of the three figures grabbed Nyx and began to drag him by the scruff of his neck back out towards their hidden rowboat. Nyx fought and clawed his way free from him and began to make his way back to his brothers. As the young cub got closer, the cold water beginning to diminish his strength, a strong wave took him under and all went dark. Hours later, Nyx found himself in his bed, his mother weeping beside him, praying to the Gods for his recovery...though her sorrow remained when he woke and later understood why. The pirates had left, though Nyx was told without their intended targets, as the wave that had taken him under, had claimed the lives of his brothers. Believing all three to have been lost, the aggressors had fled back to their ship, leaving Shorefoot and Frostdancer to search in the cold, dark seashore...only able to find Nyx floating near the jagged rocks, no sign of his brothers. Family background The son of Shorefoot and Frostdancer Darkwaters, Nyx was the first born of his three sibling litter as well as being the last of his brothers that still held breath. The harsh tundra of their young adolescent home, claimed the lives of his littler-mates before truly experiencing their mature years. Thus was the life in the region, but the loss of his two brothers still occasionally weighs on his heart and leaves him with sour memories during those years of mourning and grief. Shorefoot,at the age of 70 was still fishing the cold waters of the North. Tirelessly, his father would rise in the early dawn to break the thin sheen of ice on the shoreline to cast his line for the cod and sea bass that the dark waters sparingly provided during those winter months. Nyx would often accompany his father during his later youth, learning the tricks of the trade and sometimes providing their small family an extra boon to the dinner table. Every afternoon, his mother Frostdancer, would spend contently cleaning the day's catch, preparing it for market and sale the following morning. Aside from keeping a clean and warm home, his mother often encouraged education in way of language and mathematics, ensuring enough knowledge to take her son from the fishing industry one day. Every last day of the week, other village children would come and be taught alongside him, though the subject simple in matters of livelihood, pertaining to fishing, cooking, sewing and such. Mining Operations Working for the Precious Gems, Metals and Minerals Co. was never easy. It wasn't a life that had called to Nyx, not a career that had inspired interest or dreams of any sort. No... this sort of work was simply work to provide a meager living...to offer some sustainable way to eat and sleep with an adequate shelter to store some of his modest belongings. Nyx rarely saw the sun... His shift was always right before dawn to right after sunset. The one day he coveted, was the only one he didn't spend in the depths of the mines, and that day...he slept. It was work that demanded his physical endurance and though the labor was arduous and physically stressful, Nyx thrived in his aptitude for handling those pressures and being able to deal with the toll and demand of the job. After several years of general labor, he was promoted to General Foreman, overseeing the third tier of the cave, where minerals and less precious stones were worked from the rock. Taking on a new position in a leadership role, Nyx excelled at supervising his crew in the tedious work he'd done through many years. His experience and keen understanding of better technique, quicker production and steady hand, earned him respect and appreciation from his mining crew. Orders of various minerals from the mundane and common to the rare and exotic of the region, were met on time and often in excess from the efforts of his leadership and persistence of hard work from his workers. It wasn't until a large order of questionable material came in that made Nyx curious as to who and why would need such an abundance of it. New Beginnings Nyx's curiosity slowly grew into obsession and the more he thought and questioned the black powder materials, the more it gnawed at him. It wasn't every day such an order was made, in fact, he'd never seen such a request in his last 20 years in the mines. After doing a bit of inquiring and a small amount of snooping, the order's originator seemed to link them South, in Seth’elan. The only signature of purchase was an odd logo of sorts, an unfamiliar branding, embossed into the bottom of the order papers. Soon, his investigation into the matter brought him to the owner of the Precious Gems, Metals and Minerals, Co. Dreadmere FrostClaw. The grisly Tabaxi had to be one of the more bitter, greedy and selfish people that Nyx had ever come across. His distaste for the working class was evident in his actions whenever he would visit the mines. Looking down, unable to muster an encouraging word or smile to those that made him his riches, Nyx loathed him. One day, Dreadmere had asked Nyx for a report on the questionable order they were working on. It was evident that his employer was in a rush to see it completed and his emphasis in timeliness on it made it clear to Nyx that he knew more about the order and it's purchaser then he let on. Hitting a dead end on any further information, and speculation high on his mind, Nyx decided he'd have to go South if he wanted to learn any more of what was going on. It may have simply been a private buyer who wanted to invest in the new material compounds that were starting to be a highly sought after commodity, or perhaps there was more to it....either way, someone with that much gunpowder, surely wasn't up to any good, wherever they were at in the world and it was high time that his people stopped suffering at the hands of the wealthy and the ill-intent. Friends in low places Before the uncovering of the purchase order, Nyx spent most of his evenings at the small tavern in their village. It was often late by the time he would arrive, generally the only patron in the place at that time of night, though the tavern keep would extend the closing time so that Nyx could grab a meal and ale on the occasion he was there. It was later then normal by the time Nyx left one evening. The full moon at its descent and a cloud cover that threatened to bring fresh snow to the region. He had one too many ale's, nothing new there, and had decided taking a shorter route from the tavern to his home near the coastline was a smart move. And while it wasn't the greatest idea, it had brought him some good fortune after all. Just out of sight from the tavern's torch light, Nyx stumbled upon a human man, his knife tip glinting in the moonlight, the dark stain of blood smudged down the blade and dripping over the corpse on the ground. Alarmed, from not only the sight of the situation, but also this man so close to his village, Nyx started to run back to the tavern, only to be grappled and restrained. A harsh whisper was heard in his ear as the tip of the knife pointed into his neck..."It's not what you think, just take a moment to look and for me to explain what you see..." So, under threat of knife point.. Nyx agreed. What he saw, was a demonic looking devil of some sort with multiple eyes, a long snout with shark teeth and claws of razors. He'd never seen anything like it before. The man smirked at Nyx as he spoke " That... was your priest... Under disguise for who knows how long, I've been tracking him down for five years. Let me tell you who I am and what I do..." Nyx listened and by the sun's break on the horizon, his life changed forever.

Goals Expose the secrets of his employer and extracting revenge against the pirates who he believes ultimately killed his brothers. Currently, as my wants and desires often change with organic story progression, I'd like to see Nyx discover inner peace and enlightenment. To earn a spot as a highly respected lawmen one day, setting aside the more ruthless ways of a bounty hunter/blood hunter. Though, his class will most definitely be his major conflict in achieving these goals. As his Puppet Master, I can only steer him towards what I believe his best choices are at any given moment, and due to his chaotic nature, he will most likely not make the best choices all the time (of maybe even half of the time), but always attempting to do the "right" thing as how he see's it.

Secrets Secret 1: The Secret I keep: RumRunner Jones, isn't a smuggler. Well, he is but that's not what he actually does. He's from an ancient order of Bloodhunters that seek to destroy evil in the world. He brings justice to the wicked, the terrible monstrosities that encroach our world. I met Jones by accident on a night I will never forget, because in the end, it was Jones that initiated me into the brotherhood of the Bloodhunter and set me on the path of the Lycan order. No one knows this, save Jones. Part of my initiation into the Order is through a dangerous mission set in motion by the hand of the pirates who had ultimately killed my brothers. I've used the excuse of uncovering my Employer's deceit as a way around exposing my intentions to my family. And while I do, still, want to uncover the truth to the gunpowder order, my true ambitions lie with the Bloodhunters, and cleansing the world of those that seek true harm, evil and pain against the common folk. I will extract revenge for the loss of my brothers. I will turn the tide in my homeland, so no one suffers needlessly and at the hand of those that seek to harm us or take advantage of us. Secret 2: The Secret I don't know: My brothers never died. The pirates had taken them during the struggle and my parents know that. They lied to me, to save me from one day seeking them out and potentially dying in the process.

Connections Sigram Aletori (PC) and Darvye Thorngage (PC) I met Sigram and Darvye in a very short jail stint over a year ago while traveling down from my homeland. The two had accidentally mistaken me for someone else, well... Darvye had, Sig on the other hand, I truly believe he just wanted to rumble. That lad, there may be a screw loose there. Never the less, we worked out the issue while spending the night together in a jail cell after being arrested by the lawmen that broke us up. We parted ways and I haven't seen either of them since, though I often think about them and wonder whatever happened to them. Shorefoot Darkwaters (NPC) and Rumrunner Jones (NPC) What can I say, I'm my Father's son. Shorefoot is a strong elder in my community, his humble ways have been the only reason I am still not in a jail cell with the other two I mentioned before. He taught me how to make my weakness my own, meaning.. I am not ashamed of what I lack or what I need to work on. He is a guiding light for me, someone my soul desires to become. Accepting, forgiving, humble and respected. I know I must earn those things however. They will not just fall into my lap. Rumrunner Jones! What a name, what a guy ! When I needed passage to the South, old Jones let me board his smuggling ship as a deck hand, I learned a few basic navigation skills on our journey southbound, though not enough to claim I'm any good on the sea. The fact is.. I may have hidden out for the better part of the ride below deck when the waves got too rough. (Hostile): Dreadmere Frostclaw-Mine owner (NPC). Owner of the mining company I worked for. I say worked.. because a year ago I left my job and homeland, seeking answers to something that I couldn't get out of my mind. Dreadmere embodies everything I can't stand. From his greed, to his arrogance... to the way he thinks he's always one up on us (his workers), I despise him. I know he's connected to this questionable order from the South. I intend to find answers.

Memories and Quirks Believes his last name is cursed. Obviously Dark Waters is something that is a bit of a irony for Nyx. Being raised on the coastline of the northern waters, in the cold tundra region... losing his brothers to the water, watching his family struggle. When especially quirky, and at random, Nyx enjoys playing with rope or long string. Sort of a like a fidget spinner type of unstressor. Memory of his coastal home as a child, before his brothers died, give Nyx happiness of a better time, when life was simple and his family was at peace.

Details of the Nutshell Personality: Can be Obsessive, compulsive and tunnel vision like. Sometimes see's things that either aren't there, or other's don't see. Moves fast, works hard, curious in nature, occasionally playful in very random moments. React first, ask questions later. Bonds: I uncovered damaging information about my Employer in my homeland and working to figure out how to expose his secrets while pursuing the ones he's entangled with. Ideals:I am determined to make something of myself; I work hard to be the best at my craft. Flaws: Concerned that bathing too often will result in my melting.

Hopes and Fears Fear 1: Ultimately to go back to the mining town in his homeland and live out the rest of his days as a useless tool for the rich to get richer. Fear 2: That he'll never find the pirates responsible for his brothers deaths and that his search for the truth of his shady employer turns out to be nothing after all. Hope 1:The the truth about his shady employer and the questionable materials is something he can continue uncovering, driving him to expose a much greater scheme afoot and to shed the truth to the working people of his homeland. His biggest hope, to create a better place for his people in his homeland and displace out those that continue to make life harder. Hope 2: That in the process of his journey and investigation, he gains new skills and knowledge so that he may rise above a simple Mining foreman and that ultimately he can help rid the world of the evil and horror that inflicts itself upon the normal lives of the common folk.

Current Character Ideas You May Have:

 

Still hashing out Nyx's background points into coherent paragraphs. I'm going for Pirate Bounty Hunter. A Tabaxi that has a distaste or fear of deep water, from a homeland that thrives on coastal farming and piracy unless your bound as laborer in the mines, sparks interest in having a sea faring character that can use his more recent career choice in bounty hunting to change his situation in his homeland. Though the Minotaurs are the ones most often led into piracy, the Tabaxi's mercantile enterprises would surely suffer from this piracy in someway.

 

My expectations are simple in nature. I'd like a fun, detailed, long-term campaign, hopefully with other players that are in it for the long haul as well. Otherwise, I'm pretty open-minded, I like organic progression, a bit of realism, even in a fantasy game. I like humor but not every post should be humorous. I like dark, but not every post should be dark. I enjoy details and depth, though there are plenty of times I am guilty of keeping a post short and to the point for whatever various reason. I can adapt to different play styles and enjoy almost any setting. (Im not a big fan of space settings). Easy peasey sort of player I suppose.

Edit: Will swap out the background of the Bounty Hunter aspect for Outlander. Focusing on his grassroots beginning and life in his homeland while developing and really focusing ultimately on the Blood Hunter scenario further. I can see where it should go now and have no problem developing that further.

[MeredithS]

Would you allow blood hunter?

[MontageManiac]

I think i would be open to it yes.

[UngainlyFool]

Interested as well. Is the Dwarven Paladin coming from the dwarven clan search group? Might want to play a dwarf as well, hill dwarf though.

Application Status: Complete

Good one! Sig Brawling Machine "If you wanted me to take you seriously, you shouldn't look so ridiculous!" Name Race Class Alignment Homeland Background Sigram Aletori Human(V) Monk 2 Chaotic Good Reothadia Folk Hero . Appearance and Personality:   Appearance: This man is cords of ropy muscle stretched over hard bone and covered with just enough scarred skin to keep the blood inside (sometimes). He has a pleasant enough face with a short blonde beard and hair to match that both seem to be kept roughly trimmed by that knife in his belt (because people play dirty in fights, you know?). His eyes are a soft blue and are capable of hiding zero emotion. Sig is hard on clothing and opts for the cheapest fabric possible since it has to be replaced so often. Loose pants, soft boots, and sometimes a tunic are about all he wears. He's got a few pouches on him, the aforementioned knife, small bag and bedroll for essentials and an over-sized wineskin. It's definitely a wineskin as the outside has been marked with the tell-tale stains of various red vintages over time. Personality: Sig is a candle being burned at both ends. More like a torch. Strike that. Imagine a torch shaped like a cross and all four points are burning. Better yet, a wagon wheel torch, on fire, and the the whole thing is doused in oil. Anyway, you get it,. He drinks hard, laughs hard, fights hard and feels hard, er deeply. He finds humor in most things, especially in those things that others take most seriously. When he whispers, it generally turns to excited yelling, When he is sleeping, it is usually sleep fighting. He has a soft spot for sweet children and baby animals and friends. Especially friends. Sig has a need to find acceptance, and latches on to anyone who shows him any amount of trust or love. He has been hurt over and over by that desire, but he continues to throw himself heedlessly toward people and the imagined promise of Family. And the hurting is far from over. . Background or A Hard Life:   Not much has changed for Sigram since he was born, only, time, scars and various misfortunes.The oldest of two boys, he had little to look forward to in life. His parents were and still are pig farmers in the backwater of Reothadia. His father was a racist and xenophobic man who knew or cared little for the world around him. He was granted his farm by his father and will grant it to his son when he dies. Sig was always a scrawny boy and so he was an easy target of his father's cruel rage; it seemed the man only knew one way to parent: beat the hopes and dreams and aspirations from your child until they accepted their role. The only thing that seemed to carry him through was his good nature and the love of his mother. Though she was a hard woman, she genuinely cared for her son and he was the only one who could make her laugh. When his younger brother was born, his mother, the only one to show him any kindness at all, abandoned him for the favored child, leaving him completely and devastatingly alone. The common people of Reothadia were a superstitious lot. They both feared magic and relied on the fortunetelling of a local crone to tell them when to plant and when to harvest. When a child came of age (13) they were sent on their own to the crone to have their fortunes told. It was one hope for Sigram, to hear his fortune and have his life change for the better because it could not get any worse. But what the crone told him was this: "You are under a changing star, Sigram Aletori. You will do bad things before good, and good things before great, and in the end you will die a pauper." What Sig heard was the great part. He was already a pauper and so that hardly phased him. The visit with the Crone also awakened something within him. He was fascinated by the contents of her hut and the magic she could perform. She told him of lesser magics and how they were cast. She knew something about him that he didn't yet know and with a smile she sent him on his way. But as he returned immediately home, expecting excitement from his family, what he received instead was the most brutal beating of his life. "You will never own this farm," his father said as he left him bleeding in the sty, "I will never let you bring your curse upon us." When he could stand, he left the farm and has never returned. With nothing to his name, Sig fled to the nearest town of Glomferd, and convinced the innkeeper to let him stay in the stable in exchange for helping tend the horses. Sig always had a way with animals, they saw his pure heart more than any person did. In that temporary home, Sig started to be exposed to different people from different lands. The world seemed so much larger to him, and so much more wondrous. He also learned about alcohol, and his few coppers the innkeeper or travelers would grace him with were invariably spent on ale. When drunkenness led to a fight in the inn, he was tossed out with little more than he came with. The next years of his life were much of the same, working for little to nothing, learning a skill or two, fight, tossed out. Occasionally it would end in jail, occasionally he was stripped of everything and run out of the town penniless. It wasn't until he came upon the city of Thiesen's Landing, that his fortunes seemed to change. Money was plentiful there, as were jobs. Soon he could afford a room. There was more tolerance for his big personality and more people willing and able to put his big mouth in its place. It was there that Sig met Marla. She was the love of his life, and the only one since his mother to show him attention. Marla taught him the art of love and made plans with him on their future. It was the happiest Sig had ever been. He worked as an apprentice brewer at the time and Marla convinced him that if they had a good sum, 200gp or so, they could buy a home in the next city and start their life together. Love blinded him and he stole from the tavern owner on the promise of family. They fled together to Ab'Cal where Sig knew some people just as Marla had promised, but in the morning she was gone, disappeared with all the money. And guards found him and put him in jail to face the ruling of a judge. Sig's fate changed in that cell. He knew he had done wrong and everything in his nature said he shouldn't have done it, but such was his desire for belonging. Rotting in that cell, awaiting his fate for a week, the gaoler finally came and opened the cell, "Your bond has been paid, Sig. But don't get excited. You owe a service to your benefactor and a clean death might have been more merciful." . 6 Questions:   The Alibi was just Sig's kind of place. He stood in the doorway taking the tavern in with his thumbs hooked into his pants. He breathed in the smell of ale-stained wood and soot-stained stone and soaked in the noise of the few rowdy patrons of the lunch crowd. He loved a new inn. It was a new start-- "Outta da way!" an ornery halfling sexagenarian called out slipped under his legs as Sig did an apologetic stilt walker 180 followed by another one to turn back around. "Whoops, sorry, bud." He followed suit, walking over the friction polished floorboards that promised dancing in the evening. Pulling up a stool at the bar, he tossed down his travel bag and let his quarterstaff flop against the bar next to him. He opened his mouth to introduce himself to the half-orc bartender when the one legged (I kid you not) proprietor asked over his shoulder, "1: How did you get here?How did you get here? I share stables with three other businesses and there's no room unless you want to pay up." Sig's open mouth turned into a broad grin, "Right to it, huh? Not even a howd'y'do? Just me, Stubby. Not a horse to my name. How much for an ale? " Stubby turned around suspiciously while pulling an ale expertly from a barrel. "I don't know you, friend. How do you know me? 5 coppers." Sig had already grabbed the wooden tankard and was draining the first third when it dawned on him what the half-orc just asked and he coughed, blowing the meager foam into his eyes. Squinting and wiping the brew from his face he pointed with the other hand, "You, I mean, that...I just. Oh come on, are you pulling my leg?" He let out a guffaw that drowned out some of the other conversations in the room and there was a squeaking of chairs as heads turned. "'Cause you can't have it, it's screwed on tight." Satisfied the blonde man wasn't here for something besides a drink, Stubby seemed to ignore the jibe with the ease of someone who had to disregard drunks for a living. "2: Why have you come?What brings to you Thiesen's Landing?" Sig took another swallow to help lube the old talk-box. He took a look around the tavern room again from the vantage of a soon to be paying customer. An elf came in like she was afraid to enter the place. The Alibi lived up to its name, it would seem. Sig shook his head nostalgically. He remembered when he walked in this very same room for the first time...like it was just a minute ago. "I'll tell you, Stubbs. I've been on the road a while now. A long while. But I've never been in a place this big. A city right? You've got a pretty good thing going here." Stubby was asleep on horseback at this point. The words that came out of his mouth were second nature and not from a desire to really learn anything about this grinning idiot at his bar. He had a wet rag out and was cleaning the trap under the spigots. "3: When did it all start?How long is a long while? Where did you come from?" "Oh, about ten years now. Has it been that long?!" He grabbed his quarterstaff and reached it over the counter to wrap against Stubby's wooden leg. Tick tack tack "Stubby, say it a'int so! I'm getting old!" The bartender was starting to break character. He grabbed for the quarterstaff, but it melted away from him as quickly as it had come. "Watch it! I'll throw--" Sig produced a silver coin and snapped it down on the counter. "No harm meant! Another ale? Say this stuff is alright. You roast your malt? Oh, I'm from nowhere you'd know. Past the tripool in mudhole backwater of Reothadia." Sig put the staff back without looking and it rolled slowly away, making that wood on wood sound that can be so loud. Stubby gave him a stern look, but a paying customer was a paying customer and lunch time was usually pretty slow. Sig looked back at the elf siting my herself and wobbled the empty in the general direction of where Stubby had been standing until it was wrenched out of his hand. "What do you suppose her story is, hmm?" He made a gripping flex with his fingers where the empty mug had been. A dwarf entered the bar and drudged directly over to the elf. "What the what?" Sig practically screamed. More squeaking and heads. "Keep it down, idiot," came a voice somewhere off to the right. The Dwarf gave Sig a particularly icy dwarf stare before sitting down with his back to the bar. Sig shook his head like he had just had his bell rung. He heard the ale being set down rather than put in his hand and he reached for it without looking, knocking it half over before spinning on his seat and grabbing it. The bar would need to be wiped down. He licked his fingers and shrugged. "That's a long way, " the half-orc was actively trying now to get his least favorite patron of the day to leave everyone alone and focus on him, "4: Who have you met along the way?Meet anyone of note on your travels?" He knew his job. That question seemed to grab Sig's attention and he spun back around. "Pull up a seat, make it a tripod, and I'll tell you all about it. Have you heard of the Devil in Yellow? He's a pretty killer bard I met. A Tiefling. Really good with a flute and better with a lute. You have good bards come through here? I love to dance. Let's see, who else?" Sig proceeded to list off every bard and bard wannabe he met in his travels sort of hinting that he didn't spend any time in a place that wasn't a bar. Also, that those may be the only people who would spend a long enough time talking with him to exchange names. "Hmm, and you know I did meet an interesting pair just a bit out of town a few months ago. I was on my way into Ab'Cal and it was getting on dusk. I saw this light and I thought maybe it was a lady on her own that needed help, right? So I went over where the little light was and it ends up being this super exotic looking tabaxi. I had never met a tabaxi before mind you...I've met lots since" (lie) "so it's no big deal. But this guy was my first. Nyx. That was his name, Nyx. Really interesting guy, er cat". Sig's brow furrowed a bit, his knowledge of and experience with tabaxi now being thrown into question by his own ignorant verbiage. "He likes to be called a cat, this one. Anyway, there was this whole mix up with a halfling bard named Darvye. We all ended up in the jail here after we got in a tousle. Honest mistake. Just one night. Good fellows. Nyx broke my nose." Sig's nose was a little crooked but not bad. To wave off that question, he said, "I learned real early how to set it. You ever met Nyx or Darvye? He's a real pretty white. The tabaxi, I mean. It wasn't that far from here. No? I'm starting to doubt you get good talent in here. Darvye can play, Stubbs! I'll send him your way if I ever see him again. I wonder if he and Nyx stayed together after that?" Sig took another swallow and wiped the ale from his beard. "Mmm! This does hit the spot! Is that heather or another herb?" The bartender, with nothing else to do, poured himself a small glass. "You know your ale. 5: What is the point?So what are you doing here? Why are you traveling?" For the first time, Sig's face dropped its smile and he had no boisterous words in reply. He looked over his shoulder to the elf, but she and the dwarf had already left. He shrugged and drained the rest of his tankard. "Just looking for a new place, I guess," he said, but there wasn't much behind it. Stubby looked the blonde man over appraisingly. He had a mouth and some annoying traits, but he also seemed to know quite a bit about brewing and the half-orc had fallen behind on his schedule. He preferred serving to brewing anyway. "Well, 6: Where next?if you aren't going anywhere for a while, why don't you tell me how you know so much about ale? I might be able to get you some work here." . Seven Steps   Some finer details Step 1: BG 1: Oldest son of two born to pig farmers in Reothadia BG 2: Left home at 13 and has been travelling and never settled in one place for more than a year BG 3: Has helped countless people, most who didn't want it, but the ones that did have made him a bit of a folk hero BG 4: Has learned to ride and take care of horses and knows how to brew beer, ferment wine, and even has dabbled in the new art of distilling BG 5: Stole from his employer and was captured in the next town. Someone he doesn't know has paid his bond in order to compel him to go after the halfling and the artifact. Step 2: Goal 1: Sig's one goal above all is to find a family. Whether it is a spouse or a group of forever friends it doesn't matter. Just so long as he belongs and is loved. Goal 2: I want to see Sig evolve from a damaged blowhard, to someone others can admire. Step 3: Secret 1: Sig has a wild magical talent (Warlock Magic Initiate) It is not something he has developed or knows the source of and is something he tries to not let others know, whether it is his upbringing or the real fear of social backlash. It is what the crone saw in him before he left her and she did her part in bringing it out in him. Secret 2: He doesn't know that he once saved a royal elf who had been in hiding. He just stepped in as he always does when someone weak is being terrorized by someone strong. He didn't know that this royal elf was actually fairly strong sorcerer but that they refrained from using their magic to keep from being found. Step 4: Tied 1 (Friendly): Nyx Darkwater PC The cat who broke his nose. The tabaxi doesn't hold a grudge, at least not to Sig, so that's a step in the right direction. Nyx is the only Tabaxi, Sig knows and he is exotic and fascinating to the human. Especially how he's seen him clean himself with his own tongue. Crazy. If Sig did that, he's smell like old wine and sour spit. Tied 2 (Friendly): Darvye Thorngage PC Sig likes bards. They have to pretend to like everyone so their name spreads in a positive way. But Darvye's skill with the viol goes beyond most bards and Sig would follow him like a rat to a piper. That singing voice though....yeesh. Tied 3 (Friendly): The Devil in Yellow. A tiefling bard who is actually quite famous in both the dwarven lands and the elven and the city between them we find ourselves in now. The only real bard of note among Sig's long list of musical acquaintances (besides you, Dar!). Why the Devil took an interest in Sig is hard to say, maybe it was his dancing, his lavish praise on the bard, or someone Sig beat up to defend a defenseless. Whatever it is, they left on good terms which, for Sig, is a real coup. Tied 4 (Hostile): Marla It's not her real name. She wasn't a candlemaker's daughter either. She was a con and a thief, and all Sig really knows about her is that she broke his heart. She isn't technically a hostile, she may even feel sorry for him in a detached way. And Sig doesn't ever want to see her again, but something tells me their paths will cross again. What will happen? Step 5: MeMoQui 1: Sig is clumsy with his hands. He has pretty amazing hand-eye coordination and his footwork is amazing, but he tends to throw his arms about excitedly and haphazardly and knock things over or grab the wrong thing at the wrong time. MeMoQui 2: From years and years of beatings, Sig has developed a very high tolerance for physical pain, matched only by his complete raw nerve for emotional pain. He's been known to walk on a broken leg (briefly) and not realize when he's bleeding. MeMoQui 3: Sig remembers the very first girl he saw nude with absolute clarity (swimming in a pond near his home) all women from then on are judged against that one perfect moment. Step 6: Personality trait: - Soft-hearted: Sig will always help the underdog (if the underdog is good). He cries when faced with beauty. - Impulsive: Trust your gut. It tells you when to eat and when things aren't right; which, really, is there anything else? The first thought is the best plan of action. Ideal: - Life is a joke. So why not treat it with humor before the final punchline? Bond: - My family (when I find one) is the most important thing in my life and I will do anything to keep them safe Flaw: - There is no room for caution in a life lived to the fullest Step 7: Fear 1: The one fear, above all else is dying alone. Sig has never had anyone love or care for him for who he is. It has made him develop his defensive sense of humor that ironically keeps people away. Fear 2: Sig doesn't know this yet, but he is afraid of the undead. He understands people and their cruelty and their mastery of magic and faith. But something moving without thought, that can't be reasoned with... You fear what you don't understand. Hope 1: That the crone was right and that he will do at least one great thing before he dies. Hope 2: Sig hopes his brother is okay and that he killed his sob father. What you'd like to get from this game: Just some good RP with people who want the same. I'm open for this character to be as meaningless or significant to the events in Yeohven as you have envisioned. He's along for the ride with a simple but elusive goal.

[MontageManiac]

No, the dwarves Paladin is independent of the clan involved. His strongest association is with the temple of Tyr in the city.

There are a few restrictions on magic and such which I can navigate with folks when they’ve got an app forming.

As a primer: Magic is highly regulated. Requires a license and legal authorization. You don’t have to have that for your character, but it could open up some difficulty with the authorities. So fair warning there. You can get a license easily if you’re associates with a government agency, work for the watch, temple, or magic order.

Also, dwarves aren’t typically magic users in the world unless they serve a religious order. And there’s a lot of political tensions.

[UngainlyFool]

Is there a summary of things we should know like that in the game thread? Or are those the major things?