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  #31  
Old 03-13-2019, 12:05 AM
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Seekr34 Seekr34 is offline
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Well, I am very happy to say that my character is done.
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Leaning against the wall, watching the others rush by him, he grins. "Go ahead, go get that treasure that's laying there. Be more for me after you die."
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  #32  
Old 03-13-2019, 01:30 AM
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Well I am by no means a Greyhawk buff, but here is my attempt at something for this game because I like survival horror / horror games in general.

Onward!

Cheers, Xian


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Name: Gabriel Templeton
Race/Subrace: Half-Elf
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Class: Rogue (Arcane Trickster) / Wizard (School of Illusion)

Background: Urchin
Trait 1: "Life gives you nothing. If you want something, you have to take it."

Trait 2: "I think anyone who is being nice to me has an ulterior motive." The death of his "father" and his subsequent experiences in the streets have made Gabriel very suspicious of the motives of others, to include those he considers his friends. Still it does not mean he is aloof, Gabriel also believes that you keep your friends close, but you keep your enemies closer.

Ideal: "We have to take care of each other, because no one else is going to do it." Gabriel's guiding light is the need to fight for the little guy, to help the people who don’t have a voice, to have one. This extends especially to those rare few he considers friends or "family" of whom he is fiercely loyal and protective from his experience of living on the streets.

Bond: "No one else should have to endure the hardships I've been through." Gabriel's experience as an orphan has left him cynical to the realities of the world, but it does not mean that he does not try to change circumstances for the people he cares about and does his best to ensure someone else do not have to endure what he did.

Flaw: "People who can't take care of themselves get what they deserve." Hard life on the streets of Greyhawk has inculcated in Gabriel a hard edged pragmatism and independence. Gabriel inherently does not believe in having to depend on others for your well-being or survival and if you do... well you get what is coming to you.

Description:
Alignment/Tendencies: Chaotic Good

Personality: Gabriel has a deep rooted belief in justice, the freedom of the individual, and self determination. Gabriel uses his skills and knowledge to help others regardless of the consequence, though he hides this under the veneer of a self-serving scoundrel and tough guy. Gabriel acts as his conscience dictates without the constraints of the laws, traditions, and beliefs of others and does what he judges best at the moment without regards for the legal niceties because of his experience of growing up in the streets. Gabriel knows that the gods exist and acknowledge their powers, but refuses to put any faith in them and will dissuade others from doing so as well, instead believing that a person/individual makes his own destiny.

Appearance: Gabriel does not stand out, but is also not an unattractive man. Gabriel prefers to keep a low profile and dress ubiquitously and functionally so that he appears as just another face in the crowd. One of the things he has learned in the streets is that anonymity is your best friend. It helps you from becoming a target.

Backstory: Gabriel was an orphan whose parents and village had been slaughtered in a nearby village to the city of Greyhawk from an orc raid. Gabriel was gravely wounded and would have perished as well, but was rescued by a paladin and cleric who had been sent there to repel the raid and to assist any survivors. Sadly, none of the others in the small hamlet was saved and Gabriel was the sole survivor. The paladin, Francis Templeton, took Gabriel in and adopted him. Francis had recently lost his son and Gabriel was similar in appearance to his lost boy. For a time Gabriel knew happiness and Francis raised and taught as his own and instilling in him his moral core. Here Gabriel discovered that he had the gift... a keen intellect and the ability to utilize the Art. Francis did his best to encourage and nurture that talent in the young boy. It was a simple and happy time in Gabriel's life. A time he would still look upon with fondness even in the years to come.

That happiness came to an end when an unidentified noble of some great import in the city apparently assassinated Francis for some slight and then proceeded to eliminate all witnesses to include the sleeping young Gabriel. Using his magical talents, Gabriel managed to escape from his would be murderers and fled deep into the allies and streets of Greyhawk's slum... a place that would become his home for the next decade. Using his intellect and his talent, Gabriel managed to survive and became hardened on the hard streets of Greyhawk. Still in spite of the harshness of his life and the tough exterior he had to cultivate, Gabriel kept true to the moral core that his father had instilled in him... well mostly true. With his talents, Gabriel grew to be a sort of scoundrel folk hero to the downtrodden and poor of the city as he tried to help as many as he could while seeking means of finding his father's murderer. All that changed one faithful job, when he took the challenge of breaking into the library of the Wizard's Guild and was caught by none other than Minra Zaughym, the library's resident. For whatever reason, Minra took an interest in the teen's magical talent and with some... convincing... she bonded for service within an adventuring party that was in need of his particular talents. The rest as they say is history. Gabriel, after some initial growing pains, took to the adventuring life and even received instruction from Minra on the proper application of his intellect and magical talents leading to many notable ventures. He was on one such ventures when the news came of the murders... news that would bring him back to the city... Gabriel had a bad feeling about this.

 
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I have taken the Oath of Sangus.

Last edited by Xian; 03-13-2019 at 11:01 PM.
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  #33  
Old 03-13-2019, 03:17 AM
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Tarus Tarus is online now
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I have to ask...would you allow the revised ranger?

also can I assume customized backgrounds are allowed? (Skill/tool/language proficiency)
No UA sources sorry. As for backgrounds keep to what’s presented in the books.

Applications are looking excellent so far, I can see this is going to be a difficult choice .
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  #34  
Old 03-13-2019, 08:29 AM
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@Tarus, I believe my application is complete. Dim would love the opportunity to play with Minra some more
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  #35  
Old 03-13-2019, 08:52 AM
Coolsip Coolsip is offline
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Logar
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Name: Logar "Thrice-Marked"
Race: Mountain Dwarf
Class: Fighter - Eldritch Knight
Personality Traits:
  • My ledger carries every contract I’ve undertaken, successful or not. I carry it always.
  • A day without my pipe is a rough day indeed.
Ideal: Greater Good: Some evils cannot be allowed to fester, as innocent as their vessels may be.
Bond: Contracts may as well be written in blood, I will work tirelessly to complete them.
Flaw: I can view others as dispensable, and struggle to form meaningful bonds with companions.

Background: Logar is no mountain dwarf. The virginal peaks of the Crystalmist Mountains do not inspire a twang of deep ancestral yearning in his heart. No, the only internal twang Logar feels on a regular basis is the aftermath of one of Golgrim’s Meat Suprises, fresh from the market in the River Quarter. Born in the city to destitute second generation immigrants, the streets of Greyhawk are his true home. Ranging the lengths of the Old City and the Craftsmen Ward, Logar was a king of the back-stabbing, rough-housing child gangs. Stealing coins from unsuspecting mechants, food directly from the baker’s oven, and training in combat from any fool willing to teach him, Logar quickly developed into a well-rounded denizen of this underworld.

All was not to last however. In the tumult, he never quite understood what happened that fateful, muggy morning. Returning from a night of scouring tourist’s purses, he found the tenements housing his family and some thirty kin no longer there. It hadn’t caught ablaze. No rubble was cast about the streets following a collapse. Not even a smell in the air of something amiss. Just gone. A gaping hole between the grasping claws of overbuilt and overcrowded settlements. Scattered rumours mentioned the wizard’s guild and some overlooked cabal of deviants. Unable to process either grief or a desire for revenge, Logar fled the scene without home or possession.

The streets of his youth now took on a different shade for Logar. Cast adrift for a number of years he fell into the wrong crowds, exercising his talents for some meagre coin and a place to rest. Skill with a pickpocket’s knife translated quickly to skill with a dagger. Life as a hired blade came naturally, serving both the less scrupulous and dangerously principled members of the Greyhawk citizenry with cool efficiency. But things never stay still for long in the City.

A number of of Logar’s recent contracts have focussed on the occult or arcane. Necromancer’s raising foul abominations, cultists attempting to channel some dire powers; Logar has not questioned why such dark occurrences are flooding into the City. But this work has filled him with new purpose, rekindling the long buried pain over his family's disappearance. An early skirmish with these new foes has left him scarred, bearing three twisted marks from a necrotic touch. Accepting this reminder of the perils of dueling magic wielders, Logar has begun training in the arcane arts of protection and destruction, uneasily channeling these forces as he strikes out to clean the rotting heart of Greyhawk.

Appearance: Logar is a dwarf rarely seen, slipping unnoticed through the back alleys and crowds of Greyhawk. He moves with a slick purposefulness, the kind of hurried gait that forces people out of the way without them quite realising why. Few features poke out of his hooded cloak; most prominent are a long, braided brown beard and the bulbous nose of his Dwarven heritage. Frequently, even these glimpses of Logar’s dark face are quickly obscured by a plume of thick smoke, spewing from an ever present pipe or cigar. His fingers and teeth have been stained a hearty brown from years of use.

Despite standing at only 4ft 2", Logar carries a prodigious amount of weaponry, stashed in holsters and sheaths strapped to his frame. A battered leather-bound tome hangs from his belt by dark steel clasps, the pages within yellowed, but containing an immaculate cursive script. This ledger is not the only mark of his work that Logar carries. Across his body three patches of skin have been twisted, warped and withered by a foul necrotic touch. This blackened skin has not healed, Logar bearing these marks as a reminder of the danger he faces.

Personality: Outwardly, Logar presents himself as an arch-typical Greyhawk bounty hunter. His mannerisms are gruff and curt, keeping silent unless he has an important point to make, or press on. Maintaining personal relationships has never fit well with the late nights, grime, and danger of bounty hunting; or at least this is what Logar convinces himself. He has kept both clients, contacts, and colleagues at arms-length throughout his tenure on the streets. Executing contracts he can seem cold and precise, rarely letting his mission be clouded by the particulates of life's pollution.

Inwardly however, Logar has begun to feel the strain of his occupation. The weight on his conscience has grown steadily over the last few years, and the acts of nameless patrons on nameless victims is proving difficult to wash from his hands. Seeking a higher purpose for the skillset he has acquired, he has thrown himself into the strange underbelly rising in Greyhawk. If anyone knew him better, it would seem this new crusade has a somewhat fatalistic intent.

RP Sample: Logar took a long, drawn-out drag on his pipe as he watched the aspiring Necromancer sweat. The crowded tavern made it difficult to hear, the young lad’s frantic words struggling, wearily, through the racket of a fight two tables over. Of course it didn’t help that Logar was hardly listening.

“Look...Yorvol and Llander, they were chumps. I can understand taking them out, I would have done it myself eventually”. The boy kept droning on, so Logar took stock, absentmindedly watching the violet-stained lips wheedle promises and excuses in turn. Yorvol and Llander had been easy enough, simple degenerates dabbling with forces beyond their comprehension. Their fall into decay would have been swift regardless, so Logar’s dreams ranged unburdened by guilt those nights. Four weeks trawling the dankest corners of the Old City piecing together snatches of evidence; a ritual site here, disturbed graves there. Two swift bolts in back alleys and contract two-thirds complete. Just this boy left, in this wretched tavern, in a chair still coated in the sticky overindulgence of previous patrons.

“Enough. Listen. Are you one Gilian Morrowell, of the Narrow Shafts.” Logar commanded, exhaling a plume of smoke which twined and danced through his beard. Reaching inside his cloak with his left hand he withdraw his ledger, bound in black leather pitted, scarred and scorched by the names held within. The slam as it struck the table snapped the spine Gilian’s protests; he nodded meekly. Without pause Logar opened it straight to the most recent entry. “My patron has accused you of practicing profane necromancy, consorting with denizens of Carceri and channelling the foul forces of Nerull himself. I ask you to answer to these charges.”

“What is that rat paying you? We can work something out here, please. We were so close achieving so much! Can we not come to an understanding?” Logar’s resolve hardened, imbued with the conviction of his mission. His right finger tightened over the trigger.

“Aye. We can.” The crossbow loosed it’s bolt under the table, thudding into the boy’s lower abdomen. Logar didn’t see the boy slump forwards, falling to the effects of the fast acting poison tipping the bolt. In a swirl of cloak and hood he slid through the pulsating crowds of the tavern, and into the Old City night. A light rain had begun to fall. Staring up at the rain, he imagined the boy’s face being washed away, drop-by-drop, and down deep into the sewers of Greyhawk never to be thought of again.

Minra: Logar has begun to frequent the Guild library of late to hone his burgeoning magical ability. These forays serve a joint purpose; the tomes contain both the means to wield greater power, and detail on the power held by his enemies. Minra has always come across as standoffish to the heavily armourer, battle hardened dwarf, rarely exchanging more than a disapproving look at his clanking gait. Not that this bothers Logar, who shares a similar level of suspicion towards the Drow wizard, so both go about their business in an uneasy status quo.

Last edited by Coolsip; 03-17-2019 at 12:08 PM.
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  #36  
Old 03-13-2019, 01:34 PM
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Ysolde Ysolde is offline
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I just wanted to say that Ysolde's character pic is my favorite thing in the history of all things.
I like it as well.


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Isn't it cheating to just use a selfie?
I wish!


Added: Is it me or is Alexis a surefire Yandere?

Last edited by Ysolde; 03-13-2019 at 02:00 PM.
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  #37  
Old 03-13-2019, 04:03 PM
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I’ve had some truly awesome apps in, so let’s say Saturday 23rd March for a closing date.
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  #38  
Old 03-13-2019, 06:37 PM
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Last edited by The Dark Star; 03-20-2019 at 02:58 PM.
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  #39  
Old 03-14-2019, 08:56 AM
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Application
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Name: Bhugok, Last of the Mist Marsh Bog Stalkers

Race: Lizardfolk

Class: Druid / Rogue

Personality Traits: I have a lesson for every situation, drawn from observing nature.

Ideal: I'm loyal to my friends, not to any ideals, and everyone else can take a trip down the Styx for all I care.

Bond: I am the last of my tribe, and it is up to me to ensure their names enter legend.

Flaw: Violence is my answer to almost any challenge.

I like to collect fingers from those I have slain. They make for good snacks.

Background: Outlander / Criminal; leaning toward Criminal

Appearance: Tall but lanky, Bhugok is covered in scales the color of mud with scutes which veer toward black. His head is ringed in pointy projections which are more tooth than horn. He wears little in the way of clothing unless he is in the city of Greyhawk when he dons a long black cloak made of various pelts sewn together from his hunts. He keeps a belt with numerous daggers looped through and a scimitar at his hip. A wooden shield made from the last red maple tree in his people's former territory of the Mist Marsh. It is dyed red not with the juice from that tree but in the blood of his enemies.

Backstory: Who knew high fashion could spell the end of an entire people but that is the impetus for this sad story of greed, betrayal and survival. Among the noble houses of Greyhawk was a designer known as Childin the Chic. He ran a tailoring company that made designer fashions for all of Greyhawk's elite. His claim to fame were his red pelt hats. To dye a pelt takes an exorbitant amount of coloring and the local dye makers were having trouble keeping up with the demand from the famous fashionista. This shortage prompted Childin to seek out a new source that he could harvest and manufacture himself. He bought a warehouse in Blackstone and with the aid of a lizardfolk guide, found the swamp maples of the Mist Marsh to hold the power of chromaticity he required. The only problem was that the bulk of these trees grew in a portion of the swamp controlled by a clan of lizardfolk known as the Bog Stalkers and they were notoriously against interactions with the humans and other races of Greyhawk. To Chiltin's great fortune, his lizardfolk guide belonged to the Blue Claw Clan who counted the Bog Stalkers as rivals and would assist Chiltin in ridding the marsh of the impediment the Bog Stalkers represented. And so began a months long conflict between the Bog Stalkers against the combined efforts of the Blue Claw Clan and the Greyhawk Frippery Foundation.

Paid mercenaries were added to the ranks of the Blue Claws and a merciless campaign of genocide was carried out in the name of high fashion. As a last resort, the Bog Stalkers began destroying the swamp maples hoping this would remove the reason for the invasion. The Blue Claws cared not for the trees and so did not stop their advances and the removal of his precious trees only enraged Childin and he doubled down on his campaign. Most of Greyhawk's elite did not bat an eye at the removal of lizardfolk from the marsh. They were ravenous and dangerous creatures that posed a threat to all civility. But one member of the Greyhawk Frippery Foundation's mercenary forces found herself having a crisis of conscience. Her name was Minra Zaughym. She saw through to the truth of what Childin was doing and was disgusted and though her revelation came too late to save the Bog Stalkers she was able to spare the life of a single lizardfolk. The shifters of the swamps as they were known could morph into creatures and monsters to defend themselves and when her unit tracked one of the last down to a copse of trees in the marsh she fooled her company into taking a wrong path leaving her alone with the scaled druid.

RP Sample: He was certain they would descend upon him at any moment, the humans. They were led by a pale woman who's eyes seemed to pierce the darkness like no torch could. When she sent her men off on the wrong path, Bhugok thought his opportunity to escape had come. He would only have this one female to dispatch. Before he could leap from the water to hurl is magic upon her, she called out.

"I wish to speak. Will you come out from the water?"

Bhugok watched her lay her sword down and approach the water unarmed. He rose up out of the murky water to tower over the slender woman. Every muscle in his body ached to strike at her but something in her eyes held him back. There was a depth to those piercing blue eyes that held him enthralled, compassion.

Such a look he had never seen in any of the mercenaries sent from Greyhawk and his anger and fury were unable to rise above his curiosity. "I see your soul is not like the others you march with. I have seen a leopard raise a piglet, allowing it to suckle along side its own cubs. Am I nothing more than a lost piglet floundering among an army of leopards? I would rather die fighting than take refuge in your pity." Bhugok was defiant in the face of the woman's humanity.

She plead with him to see the reason and to see not pity but compassion. To see in her not a leopard, but salvation. "Though I do feel remorse for my participation in this and pity for the lives of your people that have been taken, what I feel is compassion. I would save you. See at least one of your kind spared this horror. Will you trust me? Will you allow me to save you?"

Bhugok stared into the woman's eyes and saw her determination and her resolve. She did not flinch under his gaze. As the sounds of the soldiers returning grew close, the woman opened her pack and with but a thought, Bhugok transformed himself into a small frog and entered the safety of her bag. She was able to get the last of the Bog Stalkers to the back lines of the conflict where he was able to escape the conflict. Minra escaped the conflict that day as well, abandoning her position with the mercenaries ending her 'adventuring' days for good with her actions.

Personality: Bhugok is a survivor. He avoided the forces of the Greyhawk Frippery Foundation long enough to find salvation in Minra Zaughym and he has eked out a life using his skills for proposes that Minra probably wouldn't be proud of. He has resorted to thievery and assassination to keep himself both alive and well fed. Being a lizardfolk in a human dominated society is not easy but Bhugok has etched out a niche for himself in the criminal underbelly of Greyhawk.

That is not to say that Bhugok is without a sense of humor. It is not lost on him that his presence can make others feel uncomfortable and his habit of nipping off the fingers of his victims only adds to this sense of unease. If he really wants to make someone distressed, he imagines them as a large roast pheasant to ensure they understand the fact that he would eat them...if he were that hungry.
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Last edited by tomplum; 03-14-2019 at 11:53 AM.
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  #40  
Old 03-14-2019, 10:55 AM
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Added: Is it me or is Alexis a surefire Yandere?
Perhaps
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  #41  
Old 03-14-2019, 05:43 PM
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Drachenspirit Drachenspirit is offline
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Application - WIP
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Name: Ashleigh Scion

Race: Human

Class: Sorcerer, Fey Origin from Xanathar's

Personality Traits: If I don’t want to do something, I simply won’t do it.
Ideal: Life is short, so live how you want
Bond: I never wish to return to my Gravesite.
Flaw: Death isn't a big deal to me. I've died and come back. People should stop whining.

Background: Dead

Appearance: Ashleigh stands all of 5’ 1” tall and weighs in at 124 lbs. She has red hair, often worn in a ‘bushy, wild’ manner due to her Fey sorcerous origin. She is Charisma = 18very comely, a natural beauty and even her laugh is inviting and infectious. Ashleigh dresses in a somewhat revealing manner and isn't bothered by those who comment about it.

Personality: Ashleigh is easy going, almost to a fault. Little gets under her skin. She’s quick to laugh at a joke, even at her own expense. She’s firm in what she believes and wants to do, and those who call her a friend, know they can simply ask and she’ll be there. Her manner of dress fits her personality. In her former life she dressed in extremely reserved attire and was quite shy about such things. Given a new chance at life, she won't ever feel bad about who she is, or how she looks ever again.

Backstory: Ashleigh is from a family that used to be of the Noble class in the city some seventy years ago. Ashleigh was born Eighty-three years ago. From a young age she loved visiting her family's summer cottage in the woods as she had a deep love for nature.
As a young girl she began to stay longer and longer with a local druid near the cottage, until she began to apprentice with her. On one such visit of her family, she came to the cottage to find it near burned to the ground and her family all brutally murdered. There was orc sign everywhere, and though her Druid mentor ensured her it wasn't, she sought out a tribe of Orcs to slay them all.
She killed a few, only to wonder through the forest near death herself. Her mentor found her too late, and sent her spirit to the Feywild, burying her body next to those of her family by the burned down cottage.
With an unfulfilled set mind of revenge, her spirit was returned to the world as a ghost, where she haunted the old home of her family in Greyhawk.
As a ghost she quickly learned that it was a person who killed her family and tried to make it look like Orcs. That person was found, tried, and hanged for his crimes. Her single ghost mindset was to do things right, and not live with a heart of anger, which is what killed her.
Ten years ago, a local Wizard was searching her families libraries for an old tome of the Arcane Arts. The mage had heard of the tales of the ghost in the old manor, but dismissed them as foolish. Ashleigh, the ghost, helped the Wizard by showing her the Tome she had long sought. As a measure of gratitude, the Wizard looked up the history of this ghost and found the tale to be tragic. The Wizard sent grave diggers to find the body, but found it long gone by the worms and scavengers.
She spoke the name of Ashleigh in the presence of her ghost while using the True Resurrection spell and brought her back to life.
Ashleigh's new body has a connection to Fey magic due to her spirit absorbing some of the plane's natural magic while present there. She quickly learned the Arcane ways of a Sorcerer and became a well known adventurer in her own right. It helps that she's risen from the dead to help others and rid the area of threats.

Recent History - Ashleigh has been adventuring out of Greyhawk for the past 10 years. Resurrected to what her age had been at her death, 23, she's now 33 and a seasoned and respected adventurer and citizen of the city. She stays gone for longer than most adventurers due to her love and affinity for nature. Her connection Fey magic also allows her access to the Arcane spheres tapped into by Druids.

RP Sample: Ash had her elbows at her side and her hands outstretched, fingers splayed. All manner of woolen thread was wound around her fingers in what she considered a trap and a complete waste of her time. Of course, she wasn't about to say that out loud.

Older and wiser Wizard: I know what you are thinking, so you might as well change your thoughts and attitude and do my bidding. I rarely ask you know."

Ashleigh: "And how would you know what I am thinking? And don't say it is because you are older and wiser than me. It could be argued that... okay fine. I'll grant you the wiser part, but... Fine. I concede on all points."

The older and wiser wizard kept winding, looping, dipping, and doing whatever else one called the maneuvers for this diversion and waste of time sometimes called needlepoint or Crocheting.

A door opened and someone at the door called out with a request for someone to come in. Without hearing what they were saying and who was saying it, both Ash and the older and wiser wizard yelled out in Unison, "GO AWAY!", and the door closed as they did.

The older and wiser wizard continued, "You concede because you know I am right, not because you actually believe for one moment that you are indeed older and wiser than I am. Now... let's see how this works."

The older and wiser wizard pulled the mass of woolen yarn from Ash's fingers and pulled the last thread tight before tying it off.
She placed it on the table and then spread her hands out and away from it as if she were presenting a masterpiece long in the making.

It had taken a full half hour to make the thing.

Ash thought it looked terrible, but she couldn't resist wondering what magic it was the source of, or what component of what kind of spell it would be, so she asked. The curiosity was evident in her voice, the apprehension of some deep magical secret about to be revealed to her.

Ashleigh:"What is it... for?", she asked, trying to be patient.

The older and wiser wizard moved to another small table and poured herself a cup of hot tea. She returned to look at the woolen creation as she cupped her tea and then looked at Ashleigh.

Older and Wiser WizardShe averted her eyes from one to the other for a moment and then took another sip before setting her cup down atop the woolen mass that was something of a circular creation and walking away. Over her shoulder she said, "It's to set my tea on."

Ashleigh stared after her deadpan for ten long agonizing seconds before finally falling back into a cushioned chair behind her and then letting her face fall into her hands, elbows on knees.

Ashleigh: Still in this position, hair over her face she said, "You know I just mastered the very spell you used to bring me back, and you have me working as a stand in for a, a... whateveroneofthosethingsisthatyouwindyarnon!"

The older and wiser wizard matter-of-factly replied, "Not the same spell, not even close. And you would be wise to be careful with that one. Now how about some tea?"

Ashleigh: "Absolutely not. That's how you started the last conversation in which your next words to me were, 'hold this' and you handed me the end of a spool of yarn."

There was silence, and finally Ashleigh got up and went to get herself some tea, taking a deep breath on the way. Tea in hand she stood beside her mentor and smiled, hoping to learn something today besides how to make the ugliest tea coaster she had ever seen.

 

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Last edited by Drachenspirit; 03-18-2019 at 05:25 PM.
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Old 03-14-2019, 07:12 PM
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Drachenspirit, good to see ya again. That game that I got picked and you didn't? Well, it died. After 2 weeks, the dm just disappeared.
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Old 03-15-2019, 09:04 AM
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Originally Posted by Seekr34 View Post
Drachenspirit, good to see ya again. That game that I got picked and you didn't? Well, it died. After 2 weeks, the dm just disappeared.
Story of my life too. You had a great app. Had great potential, sorry to hear that. (I am thinking of the 20 level game, is it a different one?")
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Old 03-15-2019, 10:20 AM
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Sar'ella is technically complete, though i would like to add some more detail to her backstory and i always like to edit for style.

Any feedback would be most welcome.
Note that i have left a bit of time between her leaving the forest and the present I figure she my have been adventuring with members of the party and we cant really know how that goes yet.

Also any build advice would be welcome, I am leaning toward a Gloomstalker/Assassin but I fear it lacks utility.
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Old 03-15-2019, 01:19 PM
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Story of my life too. You had a great app. Had great potential, sorry to hear that. (I am thinking of the 20 level game, is it a different one?")
This one was 12th, the game was "Against the Giants" The 20th level one, I didn't make the cut.
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