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  #16  
Old 03-11-2019, 04:16 AM
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Name: Hauberak
Race: Githyanki
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Patron Deity: I've spent the last few decades living on a dead god, I don't have any faith in them.
Class: War Mage

Background: Caravan Master
Personality Trait 1: If I make a contract in writing I will not break it.
Personally Trait 2: If I focus on a goal I can't be deterred.
Ideal: The only thing more important than my word is my prowess, with sword and spell.
Bond: My queen, I desire to prove myself of serving her.
Flaw 1: I see other people as interchangeable.
Flaw 2: I rarely allow strangers to acclimate to my focused personality.

Appearance: My skin is a dry, papery, yellow brown color. My short, cropped hair is a dark wooden brown. I wear a suit of spiked chainmail that a dwarf made me after a successful contract, I also carry a large sword I had made in the image of my silver sword. I wear bands around my upper arms of preserved hair and (mostly) fake jewels.

Personality: When not under contract Hauberak researches new spells, and adheres to a strict regiment including physical and mental practice and a diet that he claims fuels both. In social settings he looks for deals he can make, and while he is smart he thinks he is craftier than he really is. When making plans, Hauberak has better long distance plans than immediate plans. He reacts quickly, but has his eyes on the horizon.

Motivation: He believes that if his sword is anywhere it is in this dungeon.
History: Despite being born over 200 years ago, Hauberak is in his 20s, the specific dates and ages aren't important enough to have a record of them. Of interest is his time on the prime, like all githyanki he spent his formative years in a specialized camp for the young. His first 10 years were spent prepping and testing him, by a succession of warriors. He graduated at an early age when he led his fellow students in an assault on a human logging camp, there were no survivors and his armbands found their start. After he graduated he began the normal lifestyle of a githyanki, spending 1 year on the prime for every 10 in the Astral Sea, he found work leading caravans safely on routes and learned about the world from that. Given the disconnected time periods of his work he became something of a myth in caravan lore. He never met his parents, but he 'knows' they served the queen directly and that the sword that is his by rights was lost on the prime. He spends his time among the trader caravans gathering rumors to find the sword, which lead him here.

Role-Playing Sample: Having freshly wrapped up a job that lead him through the whole of the Sword Coast, it was barely worth it, the bandits must have heard that he was contracted to protect these merchants and took the day off. He was paid in a small bundle of scrolls though, and his book would grow fat when his wallet and sword found lean times. Later he was transposing a spell when a conversation between two other guards played in his mind, "Daiklave, that's what they called it." One heavily armored human said to his bowman friend. Hauberak snapped back to when the scroll singed his fingers as the transfer failed, he cursed the loss and the burned fingers, Daiklave was the name of a silver sword, when I return I should see who owned it. He took out another scroll and focused on copying it before his mind wandered again, he imagined himself agilely swinging an enormous silver blade over his head in a mad dervish style and wrecked his second scroll of the night. He angrily shoves everything into his bag, "Maybe I need to sleep, I hate time so much. The scrolls will copy better on the sunlight anyhow." he grumbles as he rolls into his spartan bed and wills himself asleep.

Last edited by Nikolas; 03-11-2019 at 04:52 AM.
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  #17  
Old 03-11-2019, 11:08 AM
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Name: Galen Kendrick
Race: Vuman
Deity: Helm
Age: 48
Classes Fighter(2), Wizard/Abjuration (3)
Alignment: Neutral (Formerly lawful good)
Background: Folk Hero
Ideal: Protect and preserve
Personality Trait: Tend to ramble about adventures past and how they relate to the current threat.
Bond: Spellbook; The last reminder of his friend Drunnis, Galen has spent decades deciphering the burnt and torn pages unlocking his own rudimentary power.
Flaw: Tired of fighting and adventuring, Galen cares more about a “good” death than sound strategy.
Appearance: He still retains much of the bulk of his youth, and is still quite muscular (though nothing like 20 years ago), though his shoulders are now hunched and his joints are sore and arthritic. Face is grizzled and lined and his eyes tend to be unfocused from too much drink and long hours spent pondering his tome, though years of experience and knowledge still flash beneath the cloud of intoxicants.
Personality: Longwinded, and stuck in the past, loves to reminisce about the good old days and his own legendary achievements. While he tends to be dour and withdrawn when stuck in the past, Galen was (and is) a man who enjoys fun, a fine wine or a merry brawl both tend to unleash his more personable attitudes.
Motivation: To continue the legacy of his companions, and close out his own legend, by dying a hero like they all did.
History: Gather ‘round men hear the tale of Galen Kendrick: Dragonslayer, Foe-render, King-Killer. It was nigh on 30 years ago that a young Galen came to our shores, a snot nosed brat with an eye for glory. A noble band of adventures he did join and many an epic tale was woven from their deeds. Monsters slain, Tyrants vanquished, even the Demons did weep as he and his merry band did roam our countryside as true and noble heroes, and happily ever after were we all the bards say.
But what came after the tales were written, the ballads composed, and the songs sung? Perhaps in the stories young Galen and his friends retired to the countryside, or opened a bar, and slowly their legend faded as time went on. Or perhaps there was no happy ending, no final sweet song to sing. What if I told you that the drunk in the corner, the unkempt, overweight, and jaundiced man was the Galen of Legend. It’s hard to see it? A noble hero underneath the grime, and the stench of stale wine. Look at the way his once broad shoulders are hunched over as he slowly works his way through the old tome in front of him. You can see his lips move as he sounds out the words, finger slowly traveling across the worn, burned out pages of the scarred, iron-bound book.
It’s all he has left you see. Every friend, ally, and boon companion of his youth is gone. A lucky few to accidents and old age, but most payed the price of adventuring, and the greatest toll belonged to the lone survivor. For near on a score of years has he sat in this bar, transfixed by the spellbook of a long dead friend. His mighty muscles have atrophied, his legendary physique nowhere to be found, his skills and fortune dwindling. But slowly he has fought his way through the tome, and with the same dogged perseverance of his youth he has grasped a foothold onto the arcane arts. Dead and buried is the legendary hero he was in his youth, but his name is still remembered by those who require Legends, and perhaps another kind of Hero still remains.

RP Example
The Whistling Dragon was busy, but what else was new. A crowd lined the bar where poor Jonas juggled mug after mug of their cheap house brew. Lydia danced her way through the crowded tables, avoiding stray legs and wandering hands alike, a tray of tall steins foaming over with froth.
”A poor pour” Galen thought, chuckling out loud at what he found to be a clever turn of phrase. His mirth quickly silenced as a hooded figure walked up and cast a shadow upon his table. “You are in my reading light friend.” Galen warned the uninvited guest. Though he spoke in only a whisper the Dragon quickly hushed as regulars stared at the tall figure who would dare interrupt a legend.
“Y-you are Galen Kendrick aren’t you?” the boy asked as he pulled back his hood, “THE Galen?” Tall and lanky the sharp dressed youth would be considered handsome by some, Galen thought, as soon as he shaved the few errant hairs on his chin. ”A Beard?” Though to be fair at his age Galen had already been through enough scrapes to be considered a man, his reputation already growing, and his beard had been no better.
”Perhaps once boy, why do you disturb me?” As Galen gestured around him the young man realized for the first time that the tavern, while packed to overflowing, was empty in the corner where they now talked. Suppressing a gulp the lad steeled himself and pulled from his cloak a pure white envelope, sealed in gold. “A royal message sir..... From the hand of the King himself!” The courier squeaked at the last part.
“A King you say, well isn’t that a treat. Which one?”


Character Concept: You slayed the dragon, wooed the Princess, vanquished the Dark One, and then what? Imagine you are, or rather were a 20th level warrior and had lost everything. Your party dead, your quest finished, your ambitions fulfilled, your purpose gone. Galen is a hero is yester-year, and 20 years of sitting on a barstool will cost you a level or ten, and say bye bye to that 20str. Fortunately for him not all is lost, sitting on that stool gave him plenty of time to read, and his best friend Drunnis had quite the spellbook (before that Dracolich burned half of it away). Sure Galen isn’t quite an archmage, but not bad for a man who started his arcane journey self-taught in his 30s. And while he isn’t the Warrior of Legend he once was, there is still some fighters instinct, and a fair bit of focus behind the bloodshot eyes and strength in his arthritic hands. Better to die a hero, than fade away in a bar.

Last edited by Mrjoegangles; 03-11-2019 at 11:28 AM.
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  #18  
Old 03-11-2019, 12:00 PM
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EinrichName: Einrich Elenwydsson
Race: Half-Elf
Alignment: NG
Patron Deity: Torm
Class: Bard (College of Valor)
Background: Outlander
Personality Traits: I'm driven by a wanderlust that led me away from home.
I place no stock in wealthy or well-mannered folk. Money and manners won't save you from a hungry owlbear.
Ideal: I must earn glory in battle, for myself and my clan.
Bond: My family is the most important thing in life, even when they are far from me.
Flaw: Don't expect me to save those who can't save themselves. It is nature's way that the strong thrive and the weak perish.

Physical Description:
right-aligned image


Pale-skinned but heavily scarred, Einrich is clearly the veteran of many battles. He wears his hair long amd pulled back, displaying his elven heritage with pride. Having trained his body to withstand the frigid cold, he frequently forgoes the furs and skins normally required in the harsh Northlands, preferring instead to intimidate foes with his physique and resistance to the ever-present cold.

Motivation: Einrich constantly pushes his limits, seeking to strengthen himself in every way possible. He also seeks after his fortune, so that he can move his mother from their small village, and she can live in comfort.

Personality: Einrich is a driven man, constantly pushing himself to new heights and never backing down from a challenge. Sometimes this leads him to foolhardy mistakes, but he uses those experiences to push harder and farther.

While he has fond memories of his mother, little else ties Einrich to his home village, and he does not expect to find his way there again. Perhaps if he ever comes into a fortune, he would send for her to come live in the city with him.

Once he left the confines of his home village, Einrich found others who matched his skill and accepted his as an equal. He realized he had a knack for making friends, and not just enemies.

History: Einrich was born as the result of a dalliance between an elven merchant, travelling in Icewind Dale, and a local maiden from Ten Towns. When he realized his indiscretion had yielded a son, Einrich's father chose to do the honorable thing, and stay to raise his child. However the harsh climate and hard work of making a living in the North took its toll, and he died in his second winter.

This proved the source of much derision for Einrich from the other children as he grew up, mocking him for his thin frame and his father's delicate constitution. Burning with indignation, Einrich pushed himself, training his body and mind to withstand anything his homeland could throw at him. Equally skilled with sword, spell, and song, he soon found his skills in demand in Bryn Shander. While successful there, he longed for bigger things. Finding his way to Neverwinter, he worked for a time there, then booked passage to Waterdeep to find his destiny.

RP Sample: Einrich slammed his mug on the bar, and wiped the froth from his mouth. "Waterdeep, you say?"

"Aye", his friend said. "The Yawning Portal was built on the ruins of a wizard tower, ya know. No better place for a young man to test his mettle. Don't they know anything in that village of yours?"

Einrich slugged his friend across the face, sloshing his beer across the table. "A fair blow", the man said, "but ye owe me half a drink now."

Einrich jingled the coins in his pocket. It might be enough for passage, especially if he worked some. And seeing the wonders of Neverwinter had fueled a wanderlust he didn't know he had. He tossed a couple of copper pieces on the table to pay for the spill. "I'd better close my tab", he said. "I don't think I'll be back here for a while."
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  #19  
Old 03-11-2019, 02:35 PM
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Posting to express interest, this is going to be a big one.
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  #20  
Old 03-11-2019, 08:38 PM
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There's some excellent work in these applications. All of you are going to make it an extremely difficult choice when it comes time and I am excited to see what we are able to build together.

For some general housekeeping:
  • I've updated the application list. If I have your application status incorrect (or any other errors really), please feel free to let me know. Even if I've marked it as "Complete" you are welcome to make any and all changes up to the application deadline.
  • I am going to start working my way through the finished/nearly finished applications tonight to provide some light feedback, and/or ask some questions so I can begin to get a feel for how your character might fit into the world. I am somewhat treating it as a 'session 0' type of conversation. You aren't required to respond, but if you'd like to open up a dialog I am more than happy to do so.
  • As a reminder, I will be 90% unavailable from the 13th-16th as I will be attending Emerald City Comic Con. Depending on how exhausted I am, I may pop in to check on this thread in the evenings, but I wouldn't count on it. If you have anything urgent you want to ask or clarify in the mean time, feel free to PM me.

EDIT: About halfway through the reviews, but going to crash for the night. I'll pick it back up tomorrow. These are done for now. If you haven't gotten feedback (or questions) and you're wanting some, let me know. I'll get it done after the con.
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Last edited by Crazed; 03-13-2019 at 12:32 AM.
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  #21  
Old 03-12-2019, 11:28 PM
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Druzilla Javotte
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Source: Ashenputtel (traditional central European fairy tale)
Class: Warlock (Raven Queen)
Alignment: Ch/N
Race: Human (Variant)

Appearance: Druzilla is an attractive woman with mid-brown hair and pale skin. Her eyes are her most unusual feature, being such dark brown as to look almost black in certain light. The eyes of a crow one might say. She wouldn't stand out in a crowd, however, so she always attempts to be extremely well dressed, favoring rich fabrics like velvets and brocades and autumn colors like burgundy and forest green. Although she has a ready smile, it often doesn't reach her eyes which have lines of remembered pain around them.

Motivation: She has come for money and power, pure and simple. Druzilla is an exile from her kingdom, where her evil stepsister has married the Crown Prince. To get her revenge will not be easy. This is the best hope for a quick path to money and power enough to go back, raise an army, and rescue her mother and sister from their own lost exiles.

Personality Trait: I take great pains to always look my best and follow the latest fashions.
Personality Trait: I keep careful track of insults and harm and look to get my own back in reasonable proportion to the wrong.
Ideal: If I can gain more power, no one will be able to take advantage of me again.
Bond: My mother, my sister, and I are owed. Nothing is more important to me than my family.
Flaw: I often hear veiled slights in words addressed to me.

Backstory: Everyone knows the story of our humiliation. My mother married the Lord Geoffrey Javotte. Lord Geoffrey had a spoiled daughter who had never done a bit of work in her life. This didn't fly with my mother who believed a lady should know how to do every job in a household so that she could recognize and reward good work. She assigned Ella chores just as she did to my sister and myself. But Ella wouldn't do them, or, if forced, would sabotage them. She ruined meals, destroyed linens, miscopied records. Finally the only job anyone was willing to trust her with was raking the ashes from the firepits and even with that simple work, she acted like she was being martyred.

As you might guess, Mother tried various strategies to get through to Ella. Love and patience first, then removal of privileges. Finally, the day came when the king threw a series of balls seeking a bride for his son. Mother had arranged invitations for my sister and I but Ella was in one of her pouts and was refused permission to go. But, my spoiled stepsister chose a path of active rebellion. She made a deal with one of the fae and using her new gotten powers, stole first my sister's gown and invitation, then mine, and went to the balls in our place.

There she bewitched the prince into an obsessive passion then disappeared, leaving behind one of her own shoes. The prince came looking and ordered us to put on the enchanted slipper, but Ella had put a spell upon it and it and cut off one of my sister's toes and part of my heel. Both of us walk with a limp to this day. Her own father tried to stop this madness, chopping down his favorite pear tree and smashing the manor house's pigeon coop to drive out the fae, but to no avail. Ella's enthralled prince came upon us with a troop of soldiers and took our family prisoner. Ella, now fully in control, ordered my sister and I to walk down the aisle with her, and for our troubles, she had our eyes torn out by birds.

As we lay there in our blood and pain, I prayed to Morrigan, whose children had been fed on our bodies. And, she answered. She restored sight to my sister and I, that we might see again. And, a channel opened between us. Ella may be a sorceress, but my mother, my sister, and I do not forget the wrongs done to us. The Raven Queen provides power and once I gain enough power, then a day of reckoning will come and my evil stepsister will dance to her death in red hot shoes.


Role-Playing Sample:
 



Character Sheet:
https://www.rpgcrossing.com/profiler/view.php?id=78092
[/TT]

Last edited by penbeast0; 03-23-2019 at 06:22 AM.
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  #22  
Old 03-13-2019, 05:29 AM
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Meeka
Name: Meek (Meeka) Meadow Wind
Gender: Female
Age: 22
Height: 4'7"
Race: Tabaxi (Long Haired Variant)
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Deity: Nula (Swears upon Tezca when angry)
Class: Ranger (3) Rogue (2)
Background: Outlander
Personality Traits: I'm driven by wanderlust that led me away from home.
I'm always picking things up absently fiddling with them and sometimes accidentally breaking them.
Ideal: Life is like the seasons, in constant change. We must change with it.
Bond: An injury to the unspoiled wilderness of my home is an injury to me.
Flaw: I remember every insult I've received, and nurse a silent resentment toward anyone who's ever wronged me.
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Physical Description: Very short for a Tabaxi, being the runt of the litter. Even for a runt she's small. This has caused her to develop a complex of sorts. Her fur is wheat gold in color, and very long and messy. She has sharp piercing green eyes, that are always on the look out for trouble. On her head she dons a fitted leather cap and goggles for protection. On her body she wears a thick baggy dark blue woolen onesie, and a gray traveling cloak. Knee high toeless stockings adorn her legs with leather sewn into the ankles and soles.

Motivation: As a runt Meeka was always underestimated by her tribe. First they didn't think she'd survive the few moments after birth, then they predicted she'd die in less than a year. Twenty two years passed, and she tackled all their trials, proved her strength, yet still they only saw her as a liability. To be counted among the tribes warriors was a mere pipe dream. The toms would always mock her for her size, saying if she ever became a queen (a pregnant female) her children would be too small and weak. Not even the hunters, the only members of the tribe who would take up her offer for work, let her go after any real pray. She'd always be the one to set up the traps. Denied the privilege of sinking her claws into a fleeing target, and sweet taste of blood as it gushed from a precise bite to the throat. So she found these pleasures on her own. Never sharing in anything, simply because there was no one she cared enough to share with. Even her name was an insult. A meek wind with no power of it's own. She added the "a" on the end so she'd never have to hear herself be called Meek again. One day passing treasure hunters came to their village and divulged to their tribe tales of a labyrinth rumored to harbor the greatest treasures and darkest secrets. They had heard the rumors before but held no interest. Now, due a rivalry with a nearby clan, their clan leader sent his warriors to secure the treasure. Meeka knew if she were the one to find the the treasure first, she would be bestowed glory and honor. Now, out of pure spite, she wishes to gain respect not from her clan, but from the world that watches and waits for someone to master that labyrinth.

Personality: Meeka is laid back and rather selfish, which is not shocking given how everyone treats her. Headstrong and stubborn she refuses to believe she is worth any less than anyone else. And she's right. Knowing her weaknesses, she trained herself for years in archery, and close range combat with a knife. She even taught herself a spell or two. Using her wit and killer instinct to take on someone much bigger than her is how she learned to live and survive. Sly and cunning, Meeka has a very twisted sense of humor, often playing tricks on those who piss her off, or just doesn't like. She will laugh at their misfortune believing they deserve every bad thing coming to them. She doesn't forgive easily, though she will depending on the situation. She is very loud about her opinions and beliefs, but surprisingly excepting of others opinions as well. That is depending on whether or not they're hurtful. Her opinions can often change and are as flexible as she is. However; she has some core beliefs that usually stick with her no matter what.

History: Born a runt, last in a litter of five, it was survival of the fittest from a young age for Meeka. Competing with four older brothers, she
struggled to get enough to eat, struggled to find a good place to sleep, and especially struggled in play-fights. Everything she did was never good enough for anyone. Her Mother and Father both believed she was far too small to do anything substantial for the clan. However as time went on she developed and deep resentment for not only her family, but all her clansmen. She'd hide away in a shed she had fixed up, it eventually became her home. She hunted for herself, made money for herself, and fought for herself. It was on her own that she learned that her strongest ally was herself. Meeka could do anything she wanted, as long as she believed she could. (At least that's what she thinks.) And that belief saved her from the brink more than once. If anything she would live to spite them, and get great joy out of doing so. Over the years many a traveler would make their way through their village, bringing with them stories of their adventures tales of wonder and intrigue. She would often soak these up like a sponge. Her desire to leave her home coupled with her love for adventure hit it's peak when a couple of treasure hunters visited the village. Their tales would soon set her on her way.

RP Example:
The last sunlight of the day flitted through the trees as Meeka made her way through the harsh wilderness to start her journey to Waterdeep. She kept a steady pace, being certain to preserve her energy in case some orc or beast were to come prowling. Deciding to camp for the night, she lay her pack on the ground and left to fetch firewood. When she returned, a human male was rummaging through her stuff. In a quick quiet motion, she laid a knife to the man's throat.

"Oi! Just what do ya think yer doin'?!" She demanded.

He froze raising his unarmed hands in submission. Sweat pored down his face as he turned to look at his attacker, only to find what looked like a big clothed cat. Still she had a knife to his throat...

"Um s-sorry mate, I didn't mean to cause trouble. I've found myself a bit lost you see, and hunger got the better of me."

"Then why not hunt, ya great buffoon?" She asked the man baffled, sure to keep her guard up just in case.

He looked ashamed "I'm out of arrows..."

Looking at the quiver on his back she could see he spoke the truth. "Aye...So why don'cha...oh thas right, ya humans all have dull, wee little claws! An your teeth, *pfft* it's no wonder ya had te steal. Why didn't ya bring enough arrows ya moron." She said smacking him in the arm casually with enough force to make him lose his balance.

"Look I'm just a man of science. I came out here to study the plant life. But I got lost and spent weeks wondering around. You wouldn't happen to know the way out?"

"Aye, but don' think it's gonna be that easy to convince me." She patted the man over doing a full check of him. "All right, fine. Yer a pathetic human just like I thought. Never hurts te be too careful right?"

"Right." he said nervously.

"We'll camp 'ere tonight, and tomorrow I'll take you as far as the next village. But I warn ya..." She stared strait into the man's face. Her slit eyes burned with the warning. "Ya ever steal from me again I'll hunt ya down, hang ya from yer tiny little ears, an let the orcs have their way with ya, got it?!"

The man gulped and nodded. The small creature wasn't kidding around and he was in no place to argue.

Last edited by Ucha Nekome; 03-24-2019 at 06:46 AM.
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  #23  
Old 03-13-2019, 06:26 AM
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For some reason I really wanted to RP an angry Scottish cat. XD

Last edited by Ucha Nekome; 03-13-2019 at 06:26 AM.
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Old 03-15-2019, 10:23 PM
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READY FOR APPROVAL


ApplicationName: Rystael Gwyzor
left-aligned image

Race: WoodElf
Alignment: CG
Patron Deity:
Class: Bard / druid ( Satire... if I can?... or Glamour ) / ( Shephard... if I can ? or Moon )

Background: Spy ( espionage agent: run away )
Personality Traits: I am always calm, no matter what the situation. I never raise my voice or let my emotions control me.
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.
Bond: Someone I loved died because of I mistake I made. That will never happen again.
Flaw: When I see something valuable, I can’t think about anything but how to steal it.

Appearance: Delicate and Frail, she moves with ease like if every dance was so natural... it's more obvious in the wood when she's performing for nature all around her... it's like if all living thing fusing with her spirit. She likes to wear a light robe. wearing adventurer stuff only when the time needs it.
Personality: Always Smiling. Rystael likes to be in the front to be remark with "Hoe". Her mockery is appreciated by those who ear ... except in a fight... that usually enrage her target. Nothing seems serious for her, like if life was a gift. A gift even in these dark apocalyptical worlds. She takes care of everybody she considers her family, even those who don't always deserve it.
Motivation: I lost my sister. long ago ... She's nuts now. one of his old companions told me how sick she was, shortly after he first meets her in this famous Dungeons ... I want to go down and find what causes this madness and bring back what I need to cure my sister.
History: Rystael has been raised outside her tribe. Probably left for dead as a lonely child without any interest for raider. Claim back as a slave by a thief guild, they find that her skill was better in charming and entertaining during an undercover mission. But the role of being placed in the front line has not prevented her curiosity learn some dark way of the underground. After many years she buyback her slavery debt. Send much time on a scouting mission the last one was in a lost village where his target was supposedly hiding there. Something mystical happens between them. A friendship that no one can never wonder have. She never returns to the city since then... but learn a new way of living, a way nearest from her lineage, from her Blood, from her Heart.

Role-Playing Sample: I lost my sister. long ago ... She's nuts now. one of his old companions told me how sick she was, shortly after he first meets her in this famous Dungeons ... I want to go down and find what causes this madness and bring back what I need to cure my sister. Here is a glance of her story that his companion told me. It goes like this:



Slide on his defensive stance was looking around to see all movement, and implication of everybody. She looks Impress and seems to study all the scene... but the purpose seems unknown

Clapping His hand with his pole under his Left arm. :
"well-Done People... What a team ... I like that ! .. nobody was hurt ... well almost.

She touches the side of her head where there some blood that flows a little on his check

HanHan ... I'm hungry now ... Always Hungry... Dragoon ... Good...

SHe takes the two kobolds that are fracking dead by a leg emerge them in the mud then bring them in pile ... over some CHop tree that she has collect before

What !?! It's for EAting ... I'm not sacrificing them to JujU or anything else ... Yeah I know ... the Mud seem weird but I discover that it's less Dark burn like that ... anyway, I don't like the skin ... just eating the meat under it... don't look at me that way ... it will be better than the stuff on my bag.


She then, take 2 freshly cut big branch of the tree together and rub them together like to try to start a fire

OH, I see ... The other one ... HAn han when he wakes up ... and see MEee ... eating his ... well... ... can you interrogate him elsewhere ... just a little away ... I'm fracking hungry ... And don't want to wait for that gigly awake
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Last edited by KhamLuc; 03-19-2019 at 08:44 AM.
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  #25  
Old 03-18-2019, 06:28 PM
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Alright. I'm back from convention land. Catching up on my day job and I will update the applications list and hit any feedback/questions later this evening. Thanks for the patience all.

As a reminder, applications close this coming Saturday March 23rd, 2019 7 PM PST.
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Last edited by Crazed; 03-18-2019 at 06:31 PM.
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  #26  
Old 03-20-2019, 03:19 AM
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Name: Black Mountain 'Smoke'.
Race: Tabaxi
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Patron Deity: The Cat Lord.
Class: Rogue Scout
Background: Outlander
Personality Traits:
I'm driven by a wanderlust that led me away from home.
I place no stock in wealthy or well-mannered folk. Money and manners won't save you from a hungry owlbear.
Ideal: Life is like the seasons, in constant change, and we must change with it.
Bond: I am the last of my tribe, and it is up to me to ensure their names enter legend.
Flaw: Don't expect me to save those who can't save themselves. It is nature's way that the strong thrive and the weak perish.

Appearance: Humanoid black panther with amber eyes, wearing dark green clothing (to include a hooded cloak) and dark brown studded leather armor.
Personality: Smoke seems jovial on the outside, largely because it comes naturally for his people. On the inside, however, he is a storm of emotions.
Motivation Smoke was born with a need to explore. The loss of his tribe has only added fuel to his mission to bring glory and recognition to his people. This seemed like an excellent opportunity to do just that.
History: Smoke was born on a rather large Tropical Island, mostly inhabited by scattered tribes of Tabaxi. While out on a solo hunting trip, his tribe was wiped out by a goblinoid ambush. He stayed long enough to bury his dead, collect supplies, and barter the remainder of the resources for safe travel to the mainland, in search of adventure.
Role-Playing Sample:

Rain looks over his shoulder, just in time to see the Kobold's arrow sink into the human warror's chest. Somehow it has found an opening in the armor and the man collapses to the floor.. Mason!? Damn you all! As he turns back, Leloa (The Firbolg Druid) is already responding with some sort of magical blast directly into the creature. Rain, catching his senses, fires two arrows, from his longbow, in rapid succession. The first arrow misses it's mark but the second lands true in the Kobold's skull..ending the fight.

Leloa, I'll check on Mason.. you just go check to make sure that no more of those bastards are waiting in the next hall! Leloa transforms into a rat and scurrys into the hall ahead. Rain rushes over to Mason's side and quickly removes the arrow. Not like this! He looks over his shoulder. Leloa isn't back yet.. He places a hand over Mason's mouth and slides the arrow back in, this time making sure that it pierces the warriors heart. I'm sorry old friend..but I can't risk you exposing me. Now no living soul will know my secret..

Last edited by Treble83; 03-21-2019 at 10:57 PM.
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  #27  
Old 03-20-2019, 10:04 PM
Rylus Rylus is online now
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Finished everything but the RP sample for Leoris, would links to a few games i am in be enough for the sample section? I don't know if i will have the time in the next two days to complete an RP sample to the level i would like.
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  #28  
Old 03-20-2019, 10:07 PM
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@Rylus, as long as they are public that should be fine.
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Old 03-20-2019, 10:55 PM
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Alright, thank you. They have been linked and i consider Leoric complete. Please let me know what you think if you have the time.
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Old 03-21-2019, 03:15 PM
Trmmilwwi Trmmilwwi is online now
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Alexandra "Ali" Missad
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Name: Alexandra "Ali" Missad
Race: Half-Elf (Tethryian Human and Wood Elf, for flavor only)
Alignment: CG
Patron Deity: Selune
Class: Monk - Way of the Open Hand

Background: Faction Agent (Lord's Alliance connected to House Moonstar)
Personality Traits: 1) I see omens in every event and action. The gods try to speak to us, we just need to listen. 2) I quote (and misquote) sacred texts and proverbs in almost every situation.
Ideal: Change. We must help bring about the changes the gods are constantly working in this world.
Bond: I seek to preserve a sacred text that my enemies consider heretical and seek to destroy.
Flaw: Once I pick a goal I become obsessed with it to the detriment of everything else in my life.

Appearance: Ali is a young half elf that definitely has taken on more of her human traits. She wears her brown hair long and loose so as to hide her elven heritage. She is comfortable being placed as a human rather than a half-elf. She is very thin and agile and usually carries no weapons and minimal armor. She has a short club hidden within her belongings in case she gets into trouble.
Personality: Ali is very outgoing and likes to be around others, regardless of race or religion. She is known to debate those with opposing viewpoints but is not obnoxious about it. She uses information to prove a point and will try to sway others to her way of thinking.
Motivation: Ali's hidden contacts in the Lord's Alliance have provided the letter and have stated this is her next task. She is to look for signs of Lord Vanek although she does not know why.

History: Ali is a bastard daughter of a human noble, Rober, within House Moonstar. Rober's father, Helve, does not trust him and is trying to replace the son with one of his nephews or nieces. Rober has secretly kept in contact with his half elf daughter and oversees Ali as one of his operatives within the Lord's Alliance. Patriarch Stedd Moonstar is looking to reestablish the wealth and prestige of the Moonstar family in Waterdeep. Stedd's plan is to align with Lord Alathene in order to establish the Moonstar House as one of the up and coming houses in Waterdeep. The endless war between Lord Alathene and Lord Vanrak has long consumed the scions of House Moonstar. The current generation took it as a personal affront when Shar's avatar impersonated the Moonmaiden, Selune, during the Time of Troubles, and it has redoubled its efforts to discover Lord Vanrak's hidden redoubt in the depths of Undermountain. In recent years, Lord Helve has sponsored no less than a dozen adventuring companies to delve the depths of Undermountain in hopes of finding his trail but so far to no avail. This has led to the despairing conclusion that there might simply be no physical link between the hidden temple of Shar and the rest of Undermountain.

Role-Playing Sample: Link from Waterdeep - Disavowed (PC is Sarc);
The group gathers their belongings and heads off towards the small eatery that Renear had recommended. It was another tough day but the fact that they had rescued a Neverember bode well for the friends. At least we have some good connections now.. although the Zhents will be after us for sure. It seemed as one made enemies just as quickly as friends in Waterdeep. Speaking of which, the group was becoming smaller as not only had Marcus been led off to the catacombs by the guard but Aldos found that the sea was calling once again. Sarc shook the large man's hand as he left and was going to miss him quite a bit.

Sarc took a seat at the cafe and devoured the food that was brought out. The Skewered Dragon was known for the cheap ale and bawdy entertainment, not the quality of their food. This place though... the Copper Kettle was definitely a place to keep in mind. The group managed to snag a corner table and thus was able to hang out for quite some time. As some of the friends took time to meditate, nap or study Sarc grabbed some ale and tended to his wounds.

A few hours later the group was re-energized and ready to continue on. Eliony had befriended one of the cities many street urchins, She certainly has a way with kids..., and discovered that Floon was dragged into the sewers. Sarc was not too excited to go searching for the guy down below the city. "Doesn't the Neverember Estate have like 50 people that they could send down to find red's friend? Oh, that's right... they would never go to the docks much less the sewers. I guess we can do their work for them and garner some more good will from them then, eh!" They got to an entry point and looked around for any clues to which way may be best. Sarc tugged his clothes tighter as the dampness and smell of the sewer was already getting to him. Ariadne spoke up almost immediately, pointing to a mark on the wall, "If we follow those signs, they'll lead us, well...somewhere. Thieves use them to mark temporary paths to wherever they want someone to go." Sarc smiled and simply stated, "Look at you...
like you've been here before! Good stuff woman... let's find our man!!"


Last edited by Trmmilwwi; 03-22-2019 at 02:26 PM.
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