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Old 05-26-2010, 08:30 PM
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Prometheus Prometheus is offline
No heroes left in man...
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Those Called By Dreams

Approved characters should copy/paste their applications here, hyperlinking to their sheet in or above their name. If you would, please also state a color you'd like associated with your character. You can include one modifier, but please keep it within reason, I need to be able to tell the colors apart at a glance

Good Examples: Gray, Pink, Light Purple, Dark Green

Bad Examples: Neon Orange, Fuchsia, Striped Gray, Electric Blue

Character: Alcide
Player: rpgramen
HP: 18/18
AC: 13
-FF: 11
-Touch: 12
Perception: +3
Sense Motive: -1
Saves: +0/+4/+1
Effects: None

Character: Brom Chutzer
Player: OwenQuillion
HP: 27/27
AC: 17
-FF: 15
-Touch: 12
Perception: +2
Sense Motive: +3
Saves: +4/+2/+2
Effects: None

Character: Brother Anthony
Player: GleefulNihilism
HP: 24/24
AC: 17
-FF: 15
-Touch: 10
Perception: +1
Sense Motive: +1
Saves: +4/+0/+3
Effects: None

Character: Gabriel Glass
Player: Fiyero
HP: 18/18
AC: 13
-FF: 11
-Touch: 12
Perception: +1
Sense Motive: +6
Saves: +0/+2/+4
Effects: None

Character: Jak Sterling
Player: Aosaw
HP: 18/18
AC: 12
-FF: 10
-Touch: 12
Perception: +1
Sense Motive: -2
Saves: +2/+2/+0
Effects: None

Character: Lyrin Dawnsinger
Player: Trinity
HP: 15/15
AC: 15
-FF: 15
-Touch: 10
Perception: +4
Sense Motive: +8
Saves: +3/+0/+6
Effects: None
DM of Beyond Evergrove
Player in Out of the Abyss
Status (3/26/18): On a short hiatus. Work + allergies + probably sick.

Last edited by Prometheus; 06-06-2010 at 05:49 PM.
Old 05-31-2010, 09:35 PM
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Prometheus Prometheus is offline
No heroes left in man...
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Posts: 2,454
For those who need them, the character creation rules are as follows.
Level 1
20 Point Purchase
HP is Max HD+Con Stat
Average Starting Wealth
DM of Beyond Evergrove
Player in Out of the Abyss
Status (3/26/18): On a short hiatus. Work + allergies + probably sick.
Old 05-31-2010, 10:11 PM
rpgramen rpgramen is offline
Old Dragon
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In-Character (Written in Navy)

Name: "Who, me? My name's Alcide Blanchard, apprentice scribe of Thornapple."
Age: "I'm not as old as you might think a typical scribe often is. As it stands, I'm barely into my eighteenth summer."
Sex: "The last time I examined myself, I'm certain I was male."
Race/Class: "Obviously I'm of human lineage, and a scribe by trade with only a smattering of classical bardic tutelage." (Human Bard)
Alignment: "When I'm able, I do what I can. I'm still only one man though, and sometimes you just have to let things be." (Neutral Good)


"Hmm? Oh, well... uh... I'm not sure where to begin. I mean, I'd hate to sound vain since I'm talking about myself. I'm of modest height I suppose and regularly venture into the woods for my own research and solitude, so my physique is adequate for my age, I guess, since I'm pretty young by human standards. I also obviously have red hair, which I try hard to maintain so that I don't end up looking like some sort of ragamuffin. No doubt you've also noticed my brass-rimmed glasses; I must wear them, since I've always had poor eyesight. I... have to confess, this is really awkward talking about myself. I'm... hmm... I'm fair-skinned, again fairly obvious to the trained eye. As you can also see, I try hard to remain clean shaven, though I admit I once tried to grow a beard. All the local girls laughed at me, since my gaunt face really doesn't have the structure to successfully pull it off."

"My garb, I like to think, is of an... appealing, but simplistic nature. My father owns a general store, you know, and while he doesn't stock some of the finer things like silk and fine linens, he maintains a fairly large and practical assortment for the residence of Thornapple should they need to buy something at a reasonable price that's both comfortable and well-made. Personally, I favor the thicker fair for garments: cotton and the blended sort, mostly, preferably in earthy hues to accent my... uh... dark red hair, for lack of a better descriptor, so as to make it and myself stand out a little less. Nothing fancy, of course, as Thornapple isn't exactly the sort of place to, you know, prance about in gaudy jewelry to impress the beautiful courtesans at the latest noble's masquerade party."


"You sure are nosy, but I... I guess I can try, though I've really never attempted to describe myself to anyone before, and this feels oddly surreal in nature. I suppose if I were to try to sum up who I am in one word, it would likely be scholarly. I like to learn new things, and while it's not all related to lore and the like, I do enjoy a wide breadth of education; after all, a well-rounded education builds a well-rounded individual, as my teacher always said. It's no secret that I spent some time studying with Dorukon Shattershield, the Dwarven scholar who retired here in Thornapple some years prior. He's the one who truly taught me what I know today, and instilled my love for learning new talents and skills with which to help benefit the community. Beyond that, I also have what some might consider in unusual love of nature for a person of my station -- not that I'm wealthy, just that you don't hear of many fellows my age who are blessed to be the subject of some unofficial bardic college schooling. There's just something majestic about the sprawling wilderness and its vibrant inhabitants that fill me with a... a sort of tranquility, I suppose you'd say; when the wood is abuzz with activity, yet silent and serene all at the same time. It's hard for me to explain. I just feel welcome within the local woods, provided that I not disturb its woodland residents in turn."

"Oh, please, don't be mistaken. I'm not some crotchety old man ensconced in a boy's body. I like to think I'm of the friendly sort, and enjoy exchanging in discourse with others from time to time. I mean with words, not... uh... the other kind of 'discourse,' as I don't know anything about... never mind. Um... anyway, I don't really know what else to say. Oh, I enjoy music! Yes indeed! I myself am quite the accomplished musician, at the risk of sounding as if I'm tooting my own flute, and is something I took a very personal interest in before my mother departed. Specifically, I'm partial to the mandolin and the lyre respectively, as I find their soothingly soft tones to almost always wash away stress and displeasure with but a few plucks here and there. I also thoroughly enjoy reading books, though they're mostly of the fictional variety. Scribe Thebbit, however, swears that my handwriting is no better than an Otyugh's, which I confess is likely an astute enough assumption given that I've only recently begun learning how to transcribe text in such a way that it's legible to everyone else."

"When it comes to the community, I don't know what to say. I mean, I do what I can to lend a hand when I'm able, and I've done many things: I learned the basics of combat through militia training, can perform a small spectrum of magic to help alleviate and help those who need it, and when asked give my opinions on subjects during town meetings -- at least of late, anyway. What I'm about to say may make me seem diatomic in nature, but I also feel that if I contribute too much that I'm forcing a need for co-dependency on others. Sometimes... sometimes, I think, you need to just let people be and solve their own problems, as cruel as it might be. I suppose what I'm trying to say is if someone were to ask me for help, I would gladly give it, but on the other hand, if someone did not ask and it wasn't immediately apparent that they required me or anyone else to do so, then they should find their own solution in their own unique way. I... hope that makes sense. Really, I'm no good when it comes to explaining humanoid nature."

"That's really all I can think of to say about... well, me. No doubt I'm not the most interesting person here in Thornapple, but then again, who would want to be? Let's just move on, please, as I have some very... important things on my mind. What more do you ask of me?"


"I... don't know what you're expecting to hear from me about my life. I've done nothing noteworthy, nor has anything exciting ever happened therein. I suppose if you're this persistent, then I shall at least endeavor to try and sate your curiosity."

"The beginning, I guess, is the best place to start. I was born here -- Thornapple, I mean -- and have spent almost my entire life here. My father, Vanicide, is the owner of the local general store and has been since my grandfather passed it on to him before I was even born. My mother, Alancia, was a humble woman who had spent her entire life here, and was a blacksmith's apprentice by trade when she met my father in her youth. The two had known each other for years, and it wasn't long after they had reached adulthood and became more than friends. If you think this is awkward, know that my father brings this up every time he pines for her. Anyway, while they never officially entered wedlock after conceiving me, I remember my mother being a kind and sweet person throughout my early childhood. Even then though, I began to notice that my parents would avoid one another, trying to pass it off as though nothing was wrong with their relationship. Even I with my poor eyesight since birth could see it. My father, as he often says, just claims that their love faded like stars come the dawn. The next year, my mother bade me farewell, and I haven't seen her since; though we do correspond by way of letters now and then. Last I heard, she was engaged to be engaged to a landless knight, and I can only presume that she is soon to be wed in some far off place. She was always very pretty, from what little I can remember of her as a boy, so this doesn't surprise me really..."

"... goodness, excuse me. I didn't mean to go off on a tangent there. Where was I? Right. Me. As a boy, I received a basic education just as most everyone else. Of course, you probably know this already. While I don't claim to be any more intelligent than the next person, I do admit that I have an odd interest in learning. It was this strange sense of academic curiosity that attracted old Dorukon Shattershield to approach my father and I with the interest of taking me as his apprentice, willing to pass on the torch with his proper bardic education to some boy from a podunk village like Thornapple. My father wasn't ever a stupid man, citing all of the boons and possibilities for my future if I were to accept. I didn't know what I was getting in to at the time, but I trusted my father and accepted the offer."

"My apprenticeship to Master Shattershield was one of both oddity and excitement, at least in my opinion. He knew much, being an alumni of the Ollamh College, and his patience and persistence was exactly what we have in common and the means by which, I believe, we complimented each other so well. He would rarely give me direct answers, though the wry fellow he was would always lend me the essentials to discover the solution on my own. After all, that is the hallmark of a good tutor: one can not simply hand out knowledge, for the student must work to earn it. Indeed, over the decade of study I spent with him here in Thornapple, he imparted much unto me; how to utilize my own latent magics, the value of words and sword, linguistics, and knowledge regarding everything from history and geography to magical theories and the natural world around us. They were, undeniably, the greatest and most enjoyable years of my life thusfar."

"In fact, one of the best times I'd ever had was when he took me to Troubadour. It was the first and only time I'd been, and I was captivated by the very existence of the city in comparison to the quaint pothole that Thornapple represented in its wake. The sights and sounds, the smells. Oh, gods, the music and architecture! It was all very breathtaking. But nothing compared to that young noble girl I saw... she was just... I... no words could describe her beauty, and all I could do was stare slack-jawed from afar. I was smitten by her, and yet I didn't even have the courage to ask her name. Even now, two years later, I often find myself thinking about he--"

"O-oh! Ahem. That was... embarrassing. Please, forget you heard any of that."

"Anyways, as I was saying. My apprenticeship ended last year just before my seventeenth birthday. I've become much wiser and a more well-rounded individual, and now that I've finished my tutelage, I also seem to have stumbled upon a... a rather strange transitional period. My father is getting on in years now, though he hides it well for his age. He... he has approached me, insisting that after he is gone that I continue the family business here in Thornapple. I must confess, however, that I have no interest in the mercantilistic lifestyle. To be fair though, I don't much care for the occupation I've found myself in now either, and I guess in that regard I'm a bit of a hypocrite. If you hadn't heard yet, I've recently taken another apprenticeship position, this one with Master Scribe Thebbit. 'Tis a strange job to be sure given that we haven't exactly got the greatest resources on the written word here in Thornapple. Don't tell him I said so, but I also find it extremely boring and tedious. How the man can sit and scribble on blank parchment all day is beyond my ability to comprehend."

"Now though, I find myself in a... a strange predicament. I think that, very soon, I shall be... never mind. Forget it. Please, excuse me. I have nothing more to say for now."


What is your experience with D&D?: I've dabbled with 2nd Edition and 4th Edition respectively, but most of my experience is ingrained in the 3.x series, with Pathfinder notably being my most favorite as of late due to its streamlined simplicity of mechanics. I've been in a handful of in-person games, but they never lasted too terribly long before the group I formerly associated with moved on to something newer and/or shinier in nature.
What is your experience with PbP Roleplaying?: Very little, really. I'm in a handful of games here on DnDOG, but beyond that I've had almost no real hands-on (which might be an oxymoron) time with playing via forums and the like.
Why are you interested in a high fantasy game?: I've always been a fan of the genre, as cliche' and simple as that might seem. There's something majestic about the semi- over-the-top story that seems to be the norm, the sweeping sub-arcs of political intrigue, mystery, romance, and a multitude of other such trysts that ultimately formulate in a grandiose overall plot.
What are you interested in getting out of a high fantasy game?: While I don't mean to sound lazy, most of the things I'd be interested in seeing are listed in the previous article. On a more personal note for Alcide, maturity will undoubtedly be his theme; mentally, physically, spiritually, and personally speaking overall. He's done little with his life, and with that being the case, it's a generally fair assumption that Alcide doesn't actually know anything about himself in a philosophical sense, so there's absolutely lots of room for growth and development as a person, and finding out if what he wants is what he really wants out of life.
What do you, the player, bring to the table?: This is harder for me to really elaborate on. I generally have fairly clear-cut and easily decipherable writing, though I find myself unintentionally having trouble treading the middle ground between verbose and brief, concise posts.
What pitfalls or weaknesses do you have that I, as your prospective DM, or fellow players should be aware of?: I have a fairly strange work schedule, working nights and sleeping most days save for the weekends. This often makes it seem as though I post excessively sporadically. In addition to the "bring to the table" subject regarding my posting structure, I'm also mathematically... well, suffice it to say when it comes to crunching numbers, I'm not exactly the most astute, and generally require thoroughly coming everything I do at least thrice over just to feel confident I've done it right. I can generally perform simple arithmetic, but when bonuses are stacking up left and right at higher levels, I have a tendency to lose track of what's stacking and what's not, if that makes any sense. I'm sure there are more, but being that I've played in few PbP games myself, again, this is harder for me to really explain.
How do you suggest we best deal with these weaknesses?: While my erratic posting issue can be readily solved with you either simply skipping my posts when it seems like I'm forgoing making one for a lengthy space of time, the only other means by which I can think to address my mathematical ineptitude would be to thoroughly double-check my math when it comes to large-scale equations... probably my character sheet too, but that's a general given.
And, on a final, more personal note, how did you get into D&D?: When I first became interested, I was working a part-time job at Barnes & Nobles. As you'd no doubt guess, I frequently serviced customers as a cashier who purchased all these newfangled Dungeons & Dragons products. Inevitably, I grew curious, and purchased for myself the core 3.5 material (that being the DMG I, PHB I, and MM I) and never looked back. Since then, I've procured what might be considered an obsessive number of splatbooks, not to mention a multitude of other role-playing games which I adore, such as Tales From the Floating Vagabond, GURPS, Traveler, Rolemaster, et cetera.

Last edited by rpgramen; 06-01-2010 at 05:36 AM.
Old 06-01-2010, 02:11 AM
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OwenQuillion OwenQuillion is offline
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I would like to request Dark Green as my color.

Name: Brom Chutzer (character sheet somewhat in-progress; namely non-combat gear)
Age: 33
Sex: Male
Race/Class: Human Fighter
Alignment: Lawful Good

The first thing most observers note about Brom is his prodigious size. He stands a full head taller than most men in Thornapple, and those that don't care much for him would say he's twice as thick, too (a double meaning many of the old men who spend their days in the Sour Stem think themselves quite clever for coming up with).

His very much apple-shaped figure is capped by a face that might once have been cherubic, having 'never lost his baby fat' as his mother is wont to remark. His adulthood hasn't been kind to his looks, though, as he has already started to develop wrinkles and his coarse black hair is starting to recede. The most prominent feature, however, is his large, crooked nose, which was broken and permanently turned to one side during an embarrassing militia training accident years ago.

Brom's dress is as simple as he is, generally consisting of a plain linen tunic and breeches, old, tough, scuffed leather boots, and usually a battered straw hat. Whenever he's on militia duty, he proudly wears his equally scruffy appearing suit of scale mail he received years ago when he first joined the outfit.


Brom is a simple man, a family man, and a farmer first. Time and again he has been called on to fight, and time and again he has, always performing his duty to the best of his considerable ability and always blushing at the accolades he receives, usually claiming that "it wasn't nothin'." Duty and loyalty are so important to him that most who know him admit his sheer stubbornness is the most obvious component of his personality. He's usually amiable, if blunt, when this facet emerges as a point of contention, but usually his tendency to focus on "me and mine" means only his family has to suffer his mule-headedness.

He's always been a bit dull, and he knows it and has striven hard to overcome his limitations. Having been often called a big dumb oaf, most people think he's quiet, reserved, even aloof, but in fact he's usually just carefully considering his words and the matter at hand, and is prone to giving sage advice and bits of 'country wisdom'. He has also been known to play people's perceptions against them, presenting himself as a bigger fool than he really is to prove a point (usually that he's not the big dumb oaf they think he is).

At heart, Brom is a peaceful man and would love nothing more than to live out his (hopefully) long, long days with his wife and children, enjoying simple labor, and the warm glow of the hearth in the common room of the Sour Stem. Even so, he is the first to volunteer to fight to protect his kith and kin, and he has grown adept at extinguishing the lump that crops up in his stomach whenever he fears he won't come back home this time.


Brom was born and raised in Thornapple, the middle child of seven born to Thom and Belinda Chutzer. His upbringing was typical - schooled when he could be, working the farm when he had to with his two elder brothers, and learning to appreciate the bounty of good land and good friends. When he came of age, he joined the Thornapple militia, following in his eldest brother's footsteps and against his father's wishes. He was definitely able-bodied and though he learned slowly, he learned well.

The decision, however, strained his relationship with his father, and eventually led to him leaving his father's house, like his elder brother, Adell, before him. However, he remained in town and did odd-jobs, saving his money until the now-errant, adventuring Adell returned, bequeathing him with a windfall that Brom used to build his own farm. With his livelihood secured, Brom's on-again off-again courtship of Lisa Neumann became serious and six years ago, they were married.

Brom is now the proud papa of a five year old daughter (Emilia Chutzer) and an infant son named after his brother. He is the equally proud owner of a very productive farm on the outskirts of Thornapple, and generally well-liked (if not always respected) by his fellow townsfolk. His glaive and axe have rested over the mantle for a long time now, and his armor only comes out of its chest to keep it maintained and on those rainy days Emilia proves most insistent. The aging man finds himself empathizing with his now-dead father, often worrying that Emi will put herself in danger. The issue has come up enough, though, that he and Lisa have decided that it will be her decision should the time come to make it.

What is your experience with D&D? I've played Pathfinder since the Beta a... June or two ago. My 3.5 experience is almost exclusively Neverwinter Nights and its ilk, as my PnP/Tabletop/etc. roleplaying quickly became Pathfinder.
What is your experience with PbP Roleplaying? I did some freeform in my younger years, but most of it comes from this site (which has been a couple years). Unfortunately I've only been part of one long-running game, and that was ironically Call of Cthulhu.
Why are you interested in a high fantasy game? Part of it is that I had this character concept filed away for some time, and the other... Well, see below. (These questions seem pretty related, anyway!)
What are you interested in getting out of a high fantasy game?

Some quote from The Hobbit about the journey comes to mind, but I'd probably butcher it. I really want to explore the development of a character from a (relatively) sheltered farm-boy into a dedicated warrior fighting for his people, experiencing the world - just once - before returning home, content with the things he has seen and the job he has done ensuring the same peace for his children that he has experienced.

What do you, the player, bring to the table?
Well, I like to think I have a very solid mechanical understanding for the system, tempered by a penchant for creative writing that makes me an equally good roll-and-roleplayer. I know what it's like to DM, too, and I've had enough PbP player experience to know what I can do to help keep them running smoothly.
What pitfalls or weaknesses do you have that I, as your prospective DM, or fellow players should be aware of? I'm sure there's plenty I'm unaware of (does self-deprecation count?). Sort of like GleefulNihilism, I think the biggest is a tendency to not post, sometimes because I forget and sometimes because I just get nervous about crafting a post I'm satisfied with and if it's going to disrupt anything. (I'm aware of how ludicrous that is, but whatever part of my brain is responsible for those emotions isn't.)
How do you suggest we best deal with these weaknesses?
Keep things moving, engage with other players, make friends with them - DnDOG has an unfortunate tendency to be like a gathering of strangers, and those are the gatherings I'm most awkward in (even with all the empowerment of relative anonymity!) I've been doing very well as long as games run at an even clip, and noticed that I get more anxious/disinterested the longer I go without having something to post.
And, on a final, more personal note, how did you get into D&D? I played Neverwinter Nights at some point (when it got cheap), and one of my e-friends pointed me towards this site. Ironically he never got into it, but I played here for a month or two using the SRD, then I purchased the core rules for 3.5, got convinced to run a few games for my e-friends using IRC and later Maptool, and the rest is history.
I'm a big adventure hound, and goblins are my dog biscuits!

Last edited by OwenQuillion; 06-01-2010 at 02:45 AM.
Old 06-01-2010, 03:52 AM
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GleefulNihilism GleefulNihilism is offline
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Posts: 24,523
For my color I'm thinking Red.

Name: "Brother Anthony, Paladin of Armon- The Fist of Valor"
Age: "I have seen 19 Winters."
Sex: "I beg your pardon. I would think my male nature would be obvious."
Race/Class: "Are you. . .simple?" [Human Paladin]
Alignment: "Valor. I align myself with valor and righteousness."

Appearance: The Paladin that stands before you is less the shining example of all that is right and good in the world and more the grimy soldier who knows all to well that War is Hell. Black hair and brown eyes show a cruel instinct honed for war, and in the right light a sympathetic glance toward the weak and oppressed. And, in other circumstances, if looks could kill those eyes would absolutely destroy everything in their path.

As for clothing, he prefers armor of course. As full as he can get his hands on- because War is rarely something so neat and tidy that it limits itself to battlefields. Even in off times he tends to wear clothing that can double as armor. He strongly prefers substance to style, function over form, and use over vanity.

All in all, he really needs to lighten up and would probably be seen as devastatingly handsome if he smiled more.

Personality: Perhaps the living example that Lawful Good does not mean Lawful Nice, he is a truly dedicated sword arm to the cause of Justice and Righteousness. The difference is that he has no illusions that killing and warfare are in fact honorable things. True honor is an unobtainable ideal, true Justice is only what man and god says it is, and that War is Hell- no matter what a god tells you.

But he does believe that there are those better equipped to facing this hell then others, and sees it part of his three duties to prevent this hell from spilling out onto the unprepared. This is what he sees as fulfilling his Duty to the People- fighting battles, injustices, and even wars so that those less able to cope don't have to. His Duty to the Arch-Paladin is a little harder to follow as Armon seems to glorify battle, which doesn't deserve to be glorified- but he tries to do the right thing and respects those higher in the chain of command. As for his Duty to a Lady- he finds the motions and basic idea of chivalry commendable and follows them, though he was raised with a slightly different and less respectful mindset- something he tries to counter in his thoughts.

In short, a warrior who instead of ignoring the horrors of war he instead knows them all to well.

Background: Why exactly the Blooding went differently that year nobody knew. It's not like the ceremonies of Moloch and Zaranos were ever a restrained affair, especially the Blooding. A week long festival of carnage where the followers of the father and son gods of evil exhibit feats of strength, fitness, combat skill, and willingness to sacrifice to their god's Causes as the Scourge of Battle. It's called the Blooding because sacrificing all of the prisoners of war they can get their hands on during the 7th day was the centerpiece of the festivities.

But this time things took a strange turn in the festivities for the Heralds of Hell. Sparing the details of exactly what happened that Blooding, over the course of the week it appears the multiple children were conceived among the the worshipers. Were they the children of the Blackest Night or the Lich-God? Doubtful, looking at them you'd see the eyes of a priest here, the hair of a cleric there- but they were all seen as children of the gods all the same. And they were all trained as such, referred to as "The Fists" by the congregations.

"Anthony" was one of the Fists- raised from birth to be a force of slaughter and hate. Not considered smart enough to be a wizard of the Lich-God or wise enough to be a cleric of either Moloch or Zaranos, Anthony himself was considered an acolyte for one of Zaranos' Blackguards. Years spent into training and combat, and bloodshed was to be his language- words like justice and valor and individuality weren't even revealed as concepts to him. And yet- when the newly anointed Fists took to the battlefield, them and the armies of their gods setting out to carve out more territory for the Scourges of Battle- something happened that day that some consider a miracle. One of the Fists showed that he still had something of a conscience. Sent out among an Army to attack a village of farmers and fishermen "Anthony" came upon a family fleeing for their lives- and decided to aid them instead of slaying them.

The city of Troubadour would be their final destination, the sight would be one that not many priests of Armon would forget. One of the followers of their immortal enemies, boldly marching up the temple steps. A baby carried in his arms, the parents and another child weak from the journey behind him. And him handing over the baby peacefully, and surrendering. Not even understanding the meaning of the word "innocent" and he defended a family of them.

That was a year ago, and Anthony has started a new path.

What is your experience with D&D? 3.5e and Pathfinder. Tried 4e, was not impressed.
What is your experience with PbP Roleplaying? I'm here, aren't I? Seriously though, been on this site for a long time- even won the "Player of the Year" contest in 2008.
Why are you interested in a high fantasy game? Why am I interested in gaming at all? Because it's fun.
What are you interested in getting out of a high fantasy game? Because I want to kick in doors. FOR JUSTICE!
What do you, the player, bring to the table? I pride myself on my writing skills and my ability to make interesting characters. Tweeking old favorites and playing with stereotypes. I'll construct, decontruct, and reconstruct all over you.
What pitfalls or weaknesses do you have that I, as your prospective DM, or fellow players should be aware of? The whims of my muse are many, along with my schedule. As of right now I don't see many posting problems coming up but that's been known to be wonky. I'll be shooting for 1/day- I won't always succeed.
How do you suggest we best deal with these weaknesses? If you need to post for me, wise and powerful DM, I'll try to give you a heads up and the basics of what I'm thinking. I may tag another player to post for me if it looks more long term.
And, on a final, more personal note, how did you get into D&D? Some college friends of mine had their own group and were looking for a cleric. Completely selfish on their part I know- but it worked. Been hooked ever sense.
Quod Confutat Veritas, Ut Destruatur
Poetice Vivere, Aut Mori Stultitiam - Nullius In Verba
*WARNING* - Slower Posting Until August 7th - *WARNING*

Last edited by GleefulNihilism; 06-01-2010 at 04:45 PM.
Old 06-01-2010, 04:25 AM
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Aosaw Aosaw is offline
The Grey Mage
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Jak Sterling
Name: "Jak Sterling. Jak is short for Jacquel. Sterling isn't short for anything."
Age: "I am eighteen years old. By most towns' standards, I believe that makes me an adult - or it ought to."
Sex: "Ah, now we get into it. I am a man, thank you."
Race/Class: "Strange, isn't it? My mother was human, but all of her four children were born half-elves. We lived near a forest, so I suppose it's not all that improbable. Still; unusual. As for my profession - I'm a blacksmith." (Transmuter)
Alignment: "Ethics? I don't understand the question. A man should do his best to do right by others; beyond that, governments come and go. Sometimes a despot grows too heavy with power, and needs to be overthrown. For the most part I have no opinion on the matter; we didn't see much of kings in Kings, as the saying goes. And the same is true for Thornapple."
Jak's most striking feature is the brightness of his eyes, which are crystal blue and seem to shine even in no light at all. Apart from them he is a fairly ordinary looking example of his race - mousy brown hair, faintly pointed ears, a narrow frame, delicate hands. One might never suspect that a hero lurks inside there, but for those eyes, cunning, narrow and fiercely patient.

For garb, Jak wears the clothes that were once his older brother's: a white tunic, brown vest, and dirty green pants. He has clearly been working heavily with metal; the apron-line on his shirt and pants is as clear as if it were drawn in pencil, and every outfit Jak owns is stained gray with soot if he's worn it once while working.

If the staff is a quintessential tool for the iconic wizard, then Jak is no icon. He wields a smithing hammer, the head of which is inscribed with his personal rune. He carries no other weapon, nor any implement of conventional wizards. At a glance, one would first identify Jak Sterling as a blacksmith, not a practitioner of the wild arts.
Jak is pleasant, and well-humored; but in his smithy, he cracks no jokes, and allows no horseplay around his machines. He carries this same tenacity in battle, although he is less disposed to fight than he is to discuss problems peacefully.

The exception to this is when the subject of his mother arises. Having lost his mother and never having known his father, Jak has very carefully buried his pain under layers of comedy and confidence and an impossible commitment to his craft. Anyone who dares press Jak about his lineage, or who makes a careless remark about his mother, is more likely to be answered with violent rage than with wit.

Jak loves his brother and his twin sisters, but since their mother's funeral none of them have spoken to each other. Jak misses his family but has no apparent interest in finding them.
Our mother cared about us all, perhaps a bit too much if you consider her end. All of us were born of different fathers, save Nikta and Nym, who were twins; my brother Heilan came from a stranger, as did I, as did our sisters. Our mother was perhaps not proud of this, but she raised us with a care and love that I've never observed in any parent since. Her name was Ariella.

Heilan was the eldest, and the first to exhibit a talent for the arcane. From him, interest in the subject followed swiftly in myself and our sisters, and we were all quite talented (Nikta, in particular, was a prodigy; it broke Nym's heart I think to be only average in comparison). Our mother encouraged our curiosity, for she herself was a user of magic and a powerful one at that. Nym and Nikta were provided with a tutor in a witch named Delas-Nib, and Heilan was bought every book of lore that traveling merchants would sell him. Our mother made me her special project, the result of which was that I saw her fading life before any of my siblings.

It began as a single cough; it came as she was showing me the proper way to cook bacon, in the middle of a sentence. "Then you turn the bacon and", that was what she said. And then she went on, as though nothing happened, but I heard the strain in her voice, the hidden concern and anxiety. As weeks went on - I was fifteen, Heilan eighteen, Nym and Nikta twelve - she grew steadily worse, but no one realized how serious her condition was. "The cold that won't go away," they called it; and fool that I am, I called it that too.

Toward the end, Nym and Nikta interrupted their tutoring to spend more time with her. Nym, I think, was glad to be rid of Delas-Nib on the whole; she showed more natural talent for music, and was beginning to lose interest in what seemed to come so easily to her sister. I was working on my own projects too - placing an enchantment on my room to light up when I entered it, and slowly designing a mechanism that would do all my chores for me with the flip of a switch or a single word. That, too, was put on hold in the presence of Mother's failing health.

In fact, only Heilan continued to study and work and be conveniently out of the house when the doctor came to visit. He was afraid, I am sure, of what we all knew was coming, and he dived into his talent to escape from that fear.

She died in the kitchen, in the middle of a song. And old Heilan wasn't there until the next day because he was learning some theory on energy substitution. Nym and Nikta were hysterical; they wanted to call a priest and have her buried right then so that they wouldn't have to look at her anymore. They decided that I was responsible; that all my learning about blacksmithing and cooking had burned her heart away and filled her chest with soot (which of course was not the case; the sickness that took our mother's life was a combination of raising four geniuses on her own and a curse from her youth). My sisters wanted nothing to do with me, but they couldn't leave our mother alone, and we all wound up sitting in the living room staring at the wall and trying not to look at each other.

Heilan came home then. "How is she?" he asked. It was a question that could not be answered, and so needed no answer. He understood in an instant, and joined us in silence for a while.

In the end, I was the one who brought the coroner, the embalmer, and the priest. She died on Wednesday. She was declared dead on Thursday, embalmed Saturday, buried Sunday, and finally laid to rest on Tuesday when we all decided not to speak to each other anymore. I left Kings that afternoon.

Now, or until very recently, I found myself in a little farming town called Thornapple. I'm a blacksmith, carpenter, and anything else that people will pay for; I work my trade building wagons and forging horseshoes and tools. Occasionally I cast magic at a broken wheel, or fend off a group of wolves with witch-fire. I am losing my love for the Art, however; the magic in me seems to have died with my mother.

In its place, nightmares. I tried pretending they were just bad dreams, but there is only so long you can ignore what you know. Troubadour. There is danger in Troubadour; a place I have only seen once, passing through it on my way to Thornapple.

What do I care about a town some miles away? I have work to do, horses to shoe, wagons to repair, sheep to defend. Yet always when I wake, I hear it, as clear as if she were there beside me...

My mother was a singer. Or, she had a love of music, like Nym. Our house was always filled with the melodies my mother sang. She taught us all to enjoy music, though only Nym took to it as a trade. At her funeral, Nym sang an elegy; and quite unbidden, we all turned it into our heartsong, filling in notes we all felt, lyrics that were written by all of us, a song to fill the silence...

...and always, in my waking moments, I think I hear her singing to me, telling me to live, to love, to fly...

I am drawn to my book of spells, and as I draw my gaze across pages of runes and arcane symbols I feel a strength and vitality return that I thought had disappeared, in Kings, with the singing of a song. And I find myself packing a bag, I am out the door already, I am riding toward Troubadour.

And I will save it from whatever peril awaits me.

Last edited by Aosaw; 06-03-2010 at 02:46 PM.
Old 06-01-2010, 08:42 AM
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Fiyero Fiyero is offline
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Name: Gabriel Glass
Age: Twenty
Sex: Man
Race/Class: Human Oracle with cursed vision and a love of fire
Alignment: Neutral Good
Appearance: Being practically blind has given Gabriel a rather messy appearance. Not for lack of trying, he merely finds it exceedingly hard to accomplish any meaningful amount of hygienic upkeep on his own, what with his cloudy eyes and all. He's self-conscious of them to be sure and hopes to keep them unnoticed by always wearing a hood, though often times this just leads others to believe him someone of shady character.

He stands at an average height of five feet, ten inches and has eyes of an indiscernible color (they appear merely as faded circles under the milky film over his eyes) under a choppy lawn of close-cropped dark brown hair. Apparel-wise Gabe wears whatever is handy at the time, he just hopes it isn't too garish as such clothing would impede his will to blend in. An onlooker at present would see a young man in a ratty grey tunic loosely held together at the neck with a bit of twine and brown trousers made of something similar to the material of a potato sack tucked into black boots. Around his waist is the cheapest leather belt he could find and atop his head is a hood of a slightly darker color than his tunic.

Personality: Mr. Glass is mostly a very reserved individual who opens up as trust and (occasionally) alcohol increase. He isn't one to be open about his past and will usually dodge such questions with futile attempts at distracting other member(s) of the conversation. He doesn't care much for politics but feels strongly about hurting those who would hurt the innocent, an issue sitting at the forefront of his mind since the dreams began.

Those who do know Gabriel know an honest man given to sarcasm but with a noble core and good intentions. It is, however, a very small few who knows this. Gabe is shy in nature as a result of his eyes. They make people feel uncomfortable, they do, and such feelings have a tendency to make honest and open conversations hard to come by.

Background: Born to mediocre but hardworking and loving parents, Gabriel had a relatively happy childhood. As happy as a childhood could be when it was a struggle just to see and your mother died in childbirth. His father never held him against it, however, and worked hard training his son in the family trade of glassblowing at their shop and home on the outskirts of Troubadour. By age eleven Gabe had learned the basic skills of any apprentice glassblower, learning how to handle the furnace by sensing the heat and smelling the glass and relying on his vision less and less as months turned into years.

At age thirteen Gabriel's father passed away. In the early hours of morning before dawn a not-entirely-put-out furnace fire from the night before escaped its iron boundaries and spread throughout the house. His father woke up in time to get his son to safety but, standing there with his son watching his and his wife's entire livelihood fall to flame, ran back into the house to rescue a small chest of his dead wife's belongings. Shortly after Gabe's father entered the house the entire roof gave a threatening shudder before collapsing entirely. The boy stood in shock for a time, letting out a hoarse scream until his breath left him.

He was found the next day by neighbors and lawmen and, being too old for an orphanage and too blind to be believed as an apprentice glassblower, was taken in by one of his father's customers. The man was an innkeep who took in Gabriel more for work than for a son and sent him into the kitchen to replace a cook who had recently been (bless his soul) run over by a fast-moving carriage on his way home. It was good work, and Gabe found it easy enough to learn recipes and identify ingredients by texture and smell. He lived in the inn for a while before moving into a nearby flat where he presently resides.

Up until now Gabriel's life has been as such. Living merely to pass the time, conversing with friends, strangers, travelers and lovers. Up until now, however, he never had nightmares. At first he thought he was re-imagining the night his father died, but as they continued he realized they were different, more potent. What he was was not in the past. Along with the dreams came a strange new feeling from within, like there's something to be harnessed within his chest once he figures out how to unleash it, some new purpose for him beyond serving patrons.

Out of Character
What is your experience with DnD? I've been playing DnD for just a couple of years now, all online, and recently gotten mostly into Pathfinder. I tried to start my own Pathfinder game a little bit ago but found it went mostly unnoticed, I think it's a great system, however, and am anxious to get my hands dirty with it.
What is your experience with PbP Roleplaying? So far my experience has been fun, albeit the first game I played the DM left, the second one fell apart, the third one ended because the DM lost his internet connection. Every time was fun while it lasted, however, and as anxious as I am to play Pathfinder I'm also anxious to play a game that lasts.
Why are you interested in a high fantasy game? I love high fantasy. I've read far too many high fantasy books, played far too many high fantasy games, imagined far too many high fantasy scenarios. I just love it.
What are you interested in getting out of a high fantasy game? Creating and playing along in an epic storyline where heroes band together to overcome a common enemy.
What do you, the player, bring to the table? I can bring with me a willingness to play, try new things, learn new strategies, and be a good player and team member. I'm not someone to go off attacking guards or try to be a lone ranger.

Would like to use sienna, and the sheet should be on its way soon
"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live." - A.P.W.B.D.

Last edited by Fiyero; 06-05-2010 at 05:27 AM.
Old 06-01-2010, 10:21 PM
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Trinity Trinity is offline
Black Magic Woman
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Posts: 6,678
Color: Yellow or Pink maybe, I dunno.

Name: Lyrin Dawnsinger
Race: Half Elf
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Green
Wt: 108 Ht: 5’8”
Age: 19
Sex: Female
Class: Cleric
Deity: Sarenrae (Goddess of the sun, redemption, honesty, healing)
Domains: Fire and Healing
Alignment: Neutral Good
Lyrin is a lovely young half elf woman who favors her father’s elven heritage. She has long blonde hair with bangs in the front that has streaks of orange and red sun at the ends in the back that makes it shimmer like the rays of the sun when it sways. While tall and thin like an elf, she lacks the natural grace of her father’s race.

She wears a long white chasuble (looks kinda like a robe with wide sleeves) that’s open in the front decorated with red and gold thread and a stylized image of the sun between her shoulder blades. Along with a set of white, red, and gold armor (scale mail currently) that sparkles a little bit when the sun hits it. She also has a large red with gold inlay bible suspended from a chain on her hip, and a holy symbol hanging from a gold chain necklace.

Her scimitar is inlaid with gold and has a red gem at the base of the hilt.

Tenets of the Faith:
Treat everyone in a friendly manner in hopes of convincing people to better themselves. Have a generous nature; be tolerant but firm when needed. Be caring and understanding, redeem evil if possible, destroy it if not (they don’t waste time on undead, fiends, or mindless beasts since they’re beyond redemption). Don’t refuse those in need of healing even if they can’t pay. Be peaceful and gentle but become a dervish against unredeemable evil.

Lyrin was born from a tryst between her barmaid mother and an elven adventurer. It was only one night and Lyrin has never met her father, but she’s heard her mother speak of him from time to time. She has highly romanticized notions of who her father is, but the truth is she really has no idea what he’s like since she mostly made it up. Growing up her and her mother barely managed to scrape by, and the other children never really accepted her because of her noticeably elven heritage, no matter how hard she tried to fit in.

Unlike most people Lyrin found her calling at a young age and showed her first spark of the touch of the divine at the age of ten. Her mother was so very proud when she was taken into the church of Sarenrae. Lyrin found the church a very good fit for her, she was a naturally kind girl, but life had taught her the hard way that sometimes you have to be tough with people.

Her training was fairly standard for a priestess of Sarenrae, a balance between learning the religion and martial training. She was very talented at the spell casting and religious aspects of being a priestess but only average at the martial aspects.

The years rolled by and Lyrin did a lot of work in the community managing to find acceptance and even become well liked. While it was a good life and things were going well for her she did have an urge that got stronger as she got older to see what the world had to offer.
"If you want to understand humanity, you only need to read the comments on youtube."
"Science is alchemy without the mystery."

Last edited by Prometheus; 06-06-2010 at 05:48 PM. Reason: Just cleaning things up a bit -Prom
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