DnD5e A Raven Recalls: Falkovnia, Where the Dead Never Rest - Page 9 - RPG Crossing
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  #121  
Old Jan 1st, 2022, 03:21 PM
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Chylopan Chylopan is online now
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Jrod View Post
Although I don’t have experience with it, thought I would ask. Do you allow custom lineage or origin?
Yes, I believe that falls within the TCoE rulebook, as well parts of VRGtR involving Dhamphir and Hexblood.

Custom Lineages are allowed.

RECRUITMENT STATUS: OPEN

Last edited by Chylopan; Jan 1st, 2022 at 03:21 PM.
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  #122  
Old Jan 1st, 2022, 03:21 PM
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  #123  
Old Jan 1st, 2022, 03:23 PM
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Please consider Ziema once more, I'd love to emerge from the mists with her.
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  #124  
Old Jan 1st, 2022, 03:24 PM
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Originally Posted by SnakeOilCharmer View Post
Please consider Ziema once more, I'd love to emerge from the mists with her.
Gotcha!

You're in the running.
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  #125  
Old Jan 1st, 2022, 07:18 PM
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The First Born

Name: OrQuore
Race: Dhampir
Class: Barbarian- Zealot
Background: Gladiator


Backstory: Several hundred years ago, a young boy and his father went hunting. They hunted all day but to no avail would the gods bless their bounty. Creatures of the forest seemed scarce, almost non exhistent. It was late when they arrived back to their cabin, ready to relax for the day, but an eerie pressure loomed in the air.

Waiting in the darkness was a beastial monstrosity, nightmarish in nature, kneeled on the blood soaked floor. The young boys father flew into a rage and fought desperately but ultimately could not overcome the beast, And fell to darkness. The mans son, frightened in paralyses was bitten. But as the creature drove its fangs through the boys flesh it shrieked in pain. A white light burst through his skin where the crimson would have flown red. White light exploded from the boy, forcing the creature to flee, leaving the boy poisenedc of its wicked vile and dead.

The boy wakes, tethered by chains and shackles. A slave, on a cart bound for far off markets. But why? He feels different. His blood burns. His eyes blister and his skin aches. A hunger… a thirst overwhelm him. He passes out from the painful cravings but not before the cries faded and the tears dry.

Bought and sold, bought and sold. Years passed and he grew. He grew strong. Fast. Lean. Master after master not able to contain his firey rage or able to sustain his dreadful thirst. Kept alive due to the extreme nature of his person bringing such value added content.

So to the coliseum he went, And there he did well. He killed and he killed and he killed, every opponent he faced fell to his blade. For purpose, for necessity, for pleasure. He became champion, for fifteen years he was to be the death sentence of so many gladiators who shared the sand between their toes.

On the eve of his retirement of captivity and his release from the barbaric chains of servitude, divine Intervention would take form again. For the gods of battle, who so heavily invested in their champion would not undue their leash just yet.

Cold Mists filled the colosseum, engulfing it, and when they subsided he no longer was firm upon his territorial sand. He was in Falkovnia.


Appearance:
right-aligned image

Hideous, with a face that’s looks to have been carved from molested animal remains, yet uniquely handsome in his own right. Pale, almost white skin with blue and dark veins are sewn irregularly on the visual portions of his body. Quintus dons hooded attire as to conceal his less than common features, such as his disfigured, pointed ears and carnivorous maw. Where one of his profession might wield a monstrous sword or gargantuan axe, he instead perfects an atrocious looking Longsword. This particular blade is versatile in his hands, medium in size and balanced for his fighting style. It has a femur bone as a hilt and serrated along one edge of the blade.
Off all the strange features in which plague this warrior, the most asinine might be the dual hand crossbows on his hips. Rare attire for such a barbaric warrior.

Personality:

OrQ’s calm demeanor is his most striking feature. His resolve is steeled even in the most dire of circumstances. A walking statue of patient destruction. His calm and peaceful attitude does not render him hesitant when facing a foe that openly threatens him. He acts swiftly when provoked, Finishing fights before they start. OrQuore harbours a deep hated for vampire kind, and most things with which go bump in the night. He does not pretend to be a lawful saviour, determined to uphold good and protect the weak. Rather he is just really good at killing bad things.


Character secret: I was in love once. Her name was Adriana. The princess. She seen past my horrid figure and loved me for my soul. We were to run away together after my retirement.

Moral edge:
For as much badassery OrQuore carries, for the un interrupted disposition he keeps, OrQ is deep down lost and alone. At his bones he longs for simple things. Camaraderie, loyalty, love. He is simple and sweet, with a longing for togetherness.


Horror? Yes! Darkness? Yes?
No reservations here. I will try to follow suite on the tempo once the flow of things is established.

‘Hello darkness, my old friend’


Last edited by Jrod; Jan 15th, 2022 at 03:29 PM.
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  #126  
Old Jan 2nd, 2022, 08:47 PM
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Orovel the Wise
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Name: Orovel
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 54 years old
Alignment: Neutral (N)

Class: Artificer (Alchemist)
Mechanical Background: Sage

Appearance: Orovel is a man in his mid-fifties, though being intense and energetic he can pass for being significantly younger. He is very conscious of his appearance, choosing his clothes meticulously and taking all the time that is necessary to groom his goatee and medium length hair. Having discovered a special mixture that keeps the outward signs of age at bay, his hair and beard are still as blonde as they were in his twenties, though no alchemical recipe can disguise the fact that it is coarser than it was and that his skin is unnaturally taut, as if it had been surgically stretched in some way. His gaze is intense and calculating, showing the man’s eagerness to dissect the world around him and discover its secrets. Orovel carries himself with dignity, ever trying to appear wise and gracious, especially in the presence of potential patrons and benefactors.

Background: Orovel’s life has been shaped by ambition, a dedication to science and the pursuit of knowledge. Having been born without wealth, titles and any kind of prospects, the youngest of five children with an ailing mother and a father possessed by an unquenchable thirst for alcoholic beverages that led him to an early grave, he had to rely upon his unusually sharp mind to avoid the sad fate of his siblings, the one that all maids, farmhands and workers share. Through a combination of boldness, persistence and a good amount of luck the twelve-year-old Orovel was accepted as a pharmacist’s apprentice, which was only the first step in him becoming a renowned alchemist.

Unafraid to part flesh and study the secrets of life and death or stain his hands with blood and bile, the young man accumulated an impressive amount of knowledge both mystical and mundane, knowledge he put to use for the benefit of his clients, rich and poor alike. After all, a reputation of note was necessary before those that really mattered would seek him out.

It took several decades of study and hard work before Orovel the Wise, as he was now known, carrying a title he had forged for himself, was appointed to a position he deemed as one befitting his brilliance. A young woman‘s mysterious illness, a lady who happened to be the latest wife of a powerful and influential nobleman, served as the key to the success he had long been seeking. Through arcane incantation and powerful elixir the gentle lady was restored to health and her savior was appointed by her lord husband the household‘s physician and apothecary, a post that at once solved all financial issues the alchemist was facing.

Unfortunately, it was not to last. Envy and maliciousness made his mistress a target of dark powers that eventually cut the already frayed thread that was her life. Though Orovel managed to identify the source of the evil magic and expose the culprit, the son of one of the wealthiest and most successful merchants in the land, no skill he possessed and no piece of secret knowledge he had discovered was able to restore the unfortunate woman. That doesn’t mean that justice wasn’t served as both the wicked youth and his traitorous father met their ends at the end of a noose, their festering flesh feeding the crows for a whole month.

Orovel is certain that it was the same dark powers that slew his mistress in such a horrible way that brought the accomplished alchemist in the lands of the mists, eager to take their revenge on him. The situation seems desperate, but the man is certain that knowledge and science will prevail and allow him to eventually return home or at the very least secure him a worthy patron -or patroness- in the dark land of Falkovnia. Rarely has he known a realm so desperately in need of the light of hope and Orovel is, as always, ready to provide it.



Unless you require a character sheet, Chylopan, I consider my application complete. Thank you!
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  #127  
Old Jan 3rd, 2022, 11:30 AM
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Thanks for the applications, @Elanir and @Jrod!

Both are complete.

@SnakeOilCharmer and @Hal Hammerhand, you're also good to go!

Last edited by Chylopan; Jan 3rd, 2022 at 11:31 AM.
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  #128  
Old Jan 3rd, 2022, 03:10 PM
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@ Chylopan- Are you providing any certain feedback on applications or just letting the cards fall where they may? Just curious.
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  #129  
Old Jan 4th, 2022, 12:27 AM
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I'm usually the type to let the pieces fall where they may, if that's alright.
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  #130  
Old Jan 4th, 2022, 12:31 AM
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Copy that
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  #131  
Old Jan 4th, 2022, 03:46 PM
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Hey Chylopan, now that recruitment is open again I'd very much like to submit my application for this game! The character I submitted last time was sort of repurposed for another game, but I'd very much like to apply with a new character.

Please let me know if you need any more information, or if I need to edit anything to better fit the setting.


Application
right-aligned image
  • Name: Kallista
  • Race: Levistus bloodlineTiefling
  • Class: Clockwork SoulSorcerer
  • Background: Folk Hero
  • Alignment: Lawful neutral

History
Kallista was born the child of an insane witch, the head of a diabolical cult hiding in remote hills. This blasphemous sect, dedicated to a dread Nalfeshnee, was responsible for the abduction, torture and eventual cannibalization of a signifcant number of travelers. Its members hailed Kallista as an avatar of their god, who would one day lead them to greatness. However, the cult's murderous activities eventually drew the attention of a band of adventurers, who uncovered and vanquished the witch and her followers.

When the Aasimar paladin Breildar, leader of the adventurers, found the child, he decided to show the Tiefling mercy. He saw that the Tiefling had great potential, but also recognized that her fate had not yet been written. Rather than cut short the child's life, Breildar adopted Kallista as his own daughter. As the Tiefling grew into adulthood, the Aasimar decided to train the gifted Tiefling, hoping that one day she would become a force for good. And so, for many years Kallista assisted Breildar on his quest against the darkness. The paladin taught his daughter how to hunt and survive in the wild, how to clean equipment and care for their mounts. Breildar thought Kallista the ways of his deity, Torm, and instructed her in how to find the enemies of their faith. And all the while, Kallista's gift grew stronger.

But one day, the paladin was slain.

From that day onward, Kallista has continued her father's quest. She travels from town to town, offering her skills and magic to combat whatever darkness might threathen the commoners. Strangely, she avoids contact with all members of the nobility, preferring instead to remain among those of common birth. Since taking up her father's quest, she has developed an easy manner, a talent for endearing herself to the commoners she fought to protect. And so Kallista travelled, until one day her quest took her into a thick mist, which brought her to a distant, unfamiliar place...

Personality
Kallista is a confident, strong-willed young woman, quick to win the admiration of those around her even if she herself acts somewhat distant. She is motivated by the beliefs instilled in her by her adoptive father, who taught her to always push back against the darkness, and to always keep safe those who cannot defend themselves. Kallista pursues this quest, not with the fiery zeal of a true believer, but with the cold, calculacting mind of one bent on performing their duties without flaws.

This single-mindedness has, on occassion, led to confrontations with those she seeks to keep safe. Kallista is quick to accept the counsel of those she considers equals, but stubborn in the face of protestations from those she tries to help. She had on occassion described such feelings as an irritation welling up within her- one she tries but fails to ignore.

Appearance
Tall and graceful, Kallista displays a regal bearing, appearing perpetually in control of her emotions. Black eyes look down upon the world arround her coolly, contrasted by the disarming smile on her lips. Her long, dark crimson hair flows down almost to hip length, and is always tied back neatly in a long ponytail, to keep her locks from getting in the Tiefling's eyes. Her features are sharp and angular, and her bright violet skin is seemingly unblemished by scars or birthmarks. Two long, black horns jut from just above the center of her hairline, twisting backwards and upwards.

Kallista prefers to wear luxurious garments- whether they be robes or traveling clothes, all are made of the finest materials money can buy. A childhood spent learning to survive in the wilds has given the Tiefling an inclination to more practical clothing, but even these feature embroidery and bright colours in the latest fashions. Kallista also greatly enjoys jewelry of all kinds, though she usually sticks to just a ring or two on each hand, and the prettiest necklace she can find. A sense of moderation and a penchant for quickly tiring of individual trinkets causes the Tiefling to discard her old jewelry in favour of new ones.


 


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Last edited by DemonSlayer; Jan 26th, 2022 at 11:48 AM. Reason: adjusted spell list a bit
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  #132  
Old Jan 4th, 2022, 04:51 PM
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@DemonSlayer - All good! Application is complete! Thanks for your continued interest.
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  #133  
Old Jan 7th, 2022, 06:59 AM
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I am definitely putting my hat back in the ring for this again, I was thoroughly disappointed when the last attempt didn't work out.

Krion
Character Basics
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Name: Krion (aka Krion, King of Beasts)
Race: Leonin
Class: Barbarian, (Path of the Totem)
Age: 23
Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Traits:
- I thrive in the face of adversity. I feel most alive when I feel death’s breath upon the back of my neck.
- I despise arrogance, particularly from those who have no deeds to accompany their inflated words. Such people are swiftly trampled into the sands.
Ideal:
- I believe in a quick, clean kill. Drawing out a fight to be a spectacle for the sake of the crowd is one thing, but when the decision is made to end it, do it swiftly and totally. There is nothing so ignoble as bleeding out into the sands, mewling like a wounded lamb. No foe deserves that.
Bond:
- I thrive on the adoration of others. I was taught from a young age that my life depended upon the good graces of the crowd. My own self-worth is inextricably linked to the praise and admiration of others. Sad as that may be.
Flaw:
- I was raised to entertain the masses. My life weighted in worth by the victories in the arena and the cries of screaming fans. Without them, I have no real knowledge of who, or what, I am.

AppearanceKrion stands just shy of 7 feet tall, with a heavy, muscular frame. His face is framed by a mane of auburn and blonde hair, thick but cropped short, so as not to be too easily grasped by his foes. His feline features are squarish and strong, with eyes that burn golden, and lips that are turned upwards in what is an almost perpetual snarl. He carries himself with a confidence that seems, at least on the surface, to be impossible to diminish. One who is used to the adoration of screaming fans.

He is clad in the usual garb of the gladiator, bare chested with only vambraces, greaves and a single pauldron crafted from both steel and leather as protection to turn away an opponent’s blade. Despite this, he has little in the way of scars, a testament to his skill in the arenas of Theros. The occasional blemish mars the fur of his arms and chest, telling the tales of those few opponents who had managed to draw his blood and spill it upon the sands of the arena.



BackgroundKrion’s existence has consisted of but three things. Steel, blood and sand. He knows little of his origins, except that he hails from the plains of Oreskos. Born of warrior stock descended from the mythologies themselves, a long line of Kings and Queens who ruled the savage Leonin of those plains with a strength that makes even the Gods quake in their celestial temples. At least, that’s what the crowd is told. Krion has no idea how much truth is in any of that, though he expects it is very little.

In truth, he suspects that a band of particularly brave or foolish slavers managed to take him as a cub from his homeland. A Leonin enslaved is a rare thing indeed, and it is likely that Krion himself was acquired either through treachery or sheer luck. Regardless, the details of his capture are irrelevant. The only thing that truly matters to this tale is that he had been captured, and sold on to Master Atakios.

From as young as he can remember he was raised for the arena. His master was not a foolish man, and he knew that there would be no greater worth for a Leonin slave than in shedding blood for the masses on the sands of the arena. So, as soon as he could grasp a dagger, the young cub was taught the arts of battle. No expense spared. He was fed the finest wares, and given every accommodation to ensure he grew into a strong, fearsome warrior.

He was raised to believe that the only desire he had was the adoration of the crowd. Promised that perhaps, if he was mighty enough, he could someday ascend to the status of Champion and perhaps even earn his freedom. He was told, always, that it was only through the love and adoration of the arena crowds that he could find any worth. These lessons continued throughout his entire childhood, accompanied by the endless training drills and conditioning exercises that filled his days between meal and rest times.

When he was old enough, finally judged by his master to be big and strong enough to face the rigours of the arena, He was thrust into the arena for the first time. Small games held in distant settlements, far removed from the great Polis of Theros. Stepping out onto the sands of that small backwater fighting pit, as the crowd roared, steel clashed and the scent of blood spilled carried upon the air every lesson given him to that point was reaffirmed. He had been crafted for this.

The efforts of his Master had not been wasted. Krion proved to be a natural to the arena. His indomitable presence, his raw power, and careful honing of his martial skills at the hands of his tutors all combined to forge him into a being of warrior of considerable talent. He made short work of the washed up veterans and aspirant-gladiators of the outlying arenas. He was too strong, too fierce and too skilled for the likes of them.

So, within a short span, he and his master made it to the Great Arenas of the Polis. Travelling between the cities of man, Krion earned his master great wealth and fame. Rebranded as Krion, “King of the Beasts”, he became a drawcard at countless games held for the common citizen and nobility alike. The spectacle of Krion facing other warriors grew dull for the crowd, so they instead pitted him against all manner of beast and monstrosity. Always, they demanded more from him and always he delivered.

One might have thought such a life might tax one of his kind. Fiercely independent and accustomed to freedom on the plains of Oskeros as the Leonin typically are, however not so for Krion. He had known no other life, and never been taught anything other than his worth was to be found in the Arena. It mattered not what they pitted against him. He would either die in glorious spectacle, or he would thwart death again. There was no greater thrill than standing upon that sand, his foe lying broken at his feet, and the earth shattering roar of the crowd reverberating all around him. This, was what he had been born for.

He might have continued on in this vein, living to please the crowd, and his master, to find the value of his existence in the good will and graces of others, had it not been for one fateful day. Stepping out onto the sounds, the roar of the crowds echoing the roar bellowed from within his own lungs, he basked in the adoration of them all. Today, he mused, he would crush whatever foe they dragged before him and gain his place in the Grand Games, the chance at freedom the stakes. The mist rolled in around him, an effect, no doubt, that the Games Masters had effected to illicit the rapturous affirmation of the crowd. Yet as it enveloped him, and the world around him began to fade, he wondered if, perhaps, he was wrong about that…






 


Horror do's and don't's
- I really have no qualms with any content. Full waiver signed here!
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  #134  
Old Jan 7th, 2022, 07:36 PM
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Character Application:Name: Posi Finton
Race: Triton (Custom Lineage +2 CON, +1 STR / Feat - Heavy Armor Master)
Age: 88
Sex: Male
Background: Knight of The Order of the Orca
Alignment: LG

Character Class: Fighter 3 - Cavalier

Character Appearance:
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Height: 4'11" Weight: 125 lbs.
Posi is a dark teal colour, his skin is shiny and has scales that shine with rainbow colours as they are touched by the sun, he has a short, sharp edged fin that starts from his forehead to the top of it. He has hair that looks more like seaweed that is wrapped into a long braid, reaching down just past his shoulders. His eyes are large, sharp angled and such a deep, dark blue, that they almost look black, until they blue shines through with sunlight, his face has gills along his neck, and close to where his nose is, his hands and feet are webbed. He has a number of markings on his body, the most prominent ones are the one on his right arm, a tattoo of an orca looking like it is chasing it's tail, to represent the order that he is a part of, suction cup looking scars along his back and chest, and what looks like a bite mark from a fish of some kind. His ears have piercings with shells hanging off of them.

He has a strong looking build, from years of combat training, his armour is covered with pieces of corral, his shield is similar to his armour, but carries the crest of his order on it, just like the tattoo on his arm. His favoured weapon is a stereotypical trident, but his prowess in combat on land or in water will show how capable this weapon is.

Character Background: Posi had to work for everything he had, being born a commoner within an underwater Kingdom of Antun, he did what most young adults did when in his position, he joined the military with promises that doing well would make a good living for himself and his family.

With his pursuit for a better life, he pushed his body to the limit, always training, always learning. It got him passed basic training and into the military, there he worked for years, continuing to work hard, learning from his mentors and found that he had a natural talent with handling animals. This landed him in the cavalry division, first as a squire, then eventually into The Order of the Orca.

He was well known as a defender, protecting Auna, his assigned Orca and his fellow soldiers that were close to him.

During an award ceremony for taking down a pirate ship that was invading their territory, he met the love of his life. But scandal would tear them apart and force Posi to go on a suicide mission without his comrade and best friend, Auna, just a small company of soldiers. The mission had him nearly killed, only by what some would call a miracle, he survived. Taken by the waters to land on a strange place where he had never been before.

Hurt, he would treat his wounds the best that he could, as much as he wanted to immediately go back into the waters and back to his home, his gut told him that it would only lead to a quick death. He needed help, and he wasn't going to find it in the water, he must unfortunately find it on land. As he traveled, he found himself consumed by a thick mist, he could only hope the same gods that gave him a second chance at life, would help guide him to somewhere, anywhere, where he could recover.

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Last edited by The Dark Star; Jan 10th, 2022 at 04:14 PM.
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  #135  
Old Jan 8th, 2022, 10:57 PM
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I am feeling rather sheepish. I was refraining from applying for this based solely on the number of completed applications...in the main post. I realized that those are the old applications.

Is there any way we could get something tallying the basics of the new applications? This looks appealing, but I'm a complete newcomer to 5e, and every little bit of information helps me to make good choices.
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