[D&D-5e] Untamed: Secrets of the Amedio Jungle

[Kshnik]

Posting interest. Will have an application up in a few days.

[krossingkhory]

Originally Posted by Red Leper

Oh, sorry.

No worries!

Originally Posted by Double or Nothing

Since this is set in Greyhawk will the options for deities/other background information be limited to Greyhawk-only stuff? Clerics would be picking from Wee Jas, Kord, Saint Cuthbert, etc. for example.

Also would Plasmoids from the official Spelljammer sourcebook be an acceptable player choice if the player had a setting-appropriate reason for them unconnected to Spelljammer?

Like their character having been another species before being transformed by magic, cursed (or blessed depending on how you look at it) by a slime god/demon/whatever, somehow not totally digested by an ooze, ate the wrong plant, etc. and becoming a plasmoid?

You can use whatever deity you wish. I would prefer you stick to Greyhawk, but it isn't necessary.

I wasn't aware of Spelljammer for 5e. That is a hard no, and is going on the barred list.

[The Rat Queen]

Application Name: Kathra Ungart Race: Mountain Dwarf Class: Barbarian Subclass: Ancestral Guardian Mechanical Background: Folk Hero Appearance & Personality: Standing at a stout four and a half foot height, Kathra looks strong, solid, and capable. Her reddish-brown hair is shoulder length and tied into a braid, and her eyes glitter a near-coal black. She has ritual clan tattoos at various locations, including her face, which any dwarf would know were the markings of a Clan Berserker. She is clad in furs and good, sturdy wool, with jewelry limited to trophies from various monsters and animals she's killed; her prized necklace is a row of cave bear teeth and claws. When not in combat, she is more or less like any other dwarf: quiet and a bit surly among strangers, friendly and warm among allies, open and solemn among true friends. She approaches eating and drinking the way she approaches combat: with great gusto and with very few left standing afterward. She knows that her profession, even among other soldiers, is likely to end her life prematurely, so she gains great satisfaction from life whenever she can by living it to the fullest. Not to say she's unnecessarily rude or obnoxious (for a dwarf, anyway); she can conduct herself well when needs be. In combat, she is reckless and ruthless, and can call upon the spirits of her ancestors to vanquish her foes, dispatching them quickly and brutally. She neither asks nor gives quarter once the battle has begun, and when the battle fever strikes her, it's best just to point her at the enemy and let her go. Written Background: Kathra lives in the Dwur Kingdom of Glorvardum, a dwarven nation in the Glorioles mountains. She is a berserker, a specialized warrior who, rather than stand with a shield wall, acts as a shock troop to cause chaos and death among enemies of the dwarves. Her family, Clan Ungart, has a long history of producing such 'spirit-touched' warriors, and Kathra is very proud to have been chosen by her ancestors for such a role. She has already gained some prestige and notoriety for her achievements in battle. She took a trip to visit her kin in the Crystalmist Mountains, where she heard about a land beyond the Hellfurnaces called the Amedio Jungle. Over many, many rounds of dwarven stout ale, her kin told her tales of ancient civilizations, strange rituals performed by mysterious unknown people, and of course...vast ancient treasures. Kathra initially listened to the stories in good spirits, enjoying the story. But, as so often happens, roughhouse turned to tears. Kathra made mention of the stories being a myth, a tall tale for children and fools. She hadn't really meant to insult anyone, she just thought they were pulling her leg. But feelings were hurt, a few angry words and insults exchanged, then faces were hurt worse than the feelings. All in all, it was an excellent brawl, but things were a little awkward after that, and Kathra i.e. She was bodily tossed out of the halls by a dozen or so of the resident dwarves.decided she had worn out her welcome. She had planned a short visit, only a couple of months, but not this short. Her clan wouldn't be expecting her home so soon, and since she had gone out by the eastern gate, she decided to see exactly how much truth there was to this so-called 'jungle' and its secrets. 30 Minute (or less) RP Sample: "(Dwarven) You ugly, stupid, cowardly, yellow-bearded cave meat!Naeborngostkosmulgvaldagrimyar bak°" Kathra yelled, shaking her fist back toward the stone door as it swung shut. A few rude comments and gestures from the dwarves closing said door were tossed back before the door closed with the scrape of rock on rock. Picking herself up off the path, she grumbled at the ill manners and poor hospitality of her kinfolk as she wandered about collecting her strewn belongings. It's not like I killed anyone, she sighed to herself, sliding her greataxe in place behind her back. Sitting on one of the steps cleverly carved into the descending path, she dug some rations from her pack, tearing off a chunk with her teeth and chewing thoughtfully while rubbing a bruise on the side of her face. As she looked out from her mountain perch, she half-expected to see a steamy jungle right up against the base of the mountains, beckoning for her to explore it. But alas, there was only mountain and hazy green below; it seemed that she was in for a bit of a walk either way. She either had to walk all the way around the mountain, likely being harassed by giants, goblins, ogres, orcs, trolls, bugbears, dragons, lions, woolly mammoths, woolly rhinoceroses, and giant wolverines; or she could hike east and try to find this jungle that had caused so much trouble. "If it's potential death either way," she decided to herself as she hitched on her pack, "I may as well risk death by something I haven't seen before. Jungle it is!" As she set upon the path, she glanced south along the mountain ridge. Aside from the usual stone peaks, she could detect a plume of black smoke, far in the distance to the south. "That must be the Hellfurnaces," she decided with a frown. Starting a brisk walk down the path, she added, "At least they got that part of the story right!"

Phase II

[Aisede]

Sentient items/weapons are a D&D thing, right? Do they exist in 5e? Would they exist in this setting?

[krossingkhory]

Originally Posted by Aisede

Sentient items/weapons are a D&D thing, right? Do they exist in 5e? Would they exist in this setting?

They were in previous editions. I highly doubt you will see them here.

[Drinkslotsa]

Shadowscrap Basics Name: Shadowscrap Race: Shifter: Longtooth Background: Feylost Class: Barbarian III Subclass: Path of the Beast Mechanical Background Appearance: Having grown up in the Feywilds, where the barriers to the mundane plane are thinnest, she has adopted a very exotic fashion that seems quite out of place in the humid jungles of Amedio. Clothed in flowing garments woven from silken thread, she adorns the already bright and eye-catching clothing with a large purple and white nio-daisuki that binds the clothing back where it is necessary so she is not hindered by the cloth when she is in action. Most strikingly of all, on top of her head, bafflingly, are a pair of ornate, fiery, ombre horns that add an extra foot onto her already considerable height. If that were not enough to consider her an oddity, when she smiles, and she often does, her canines protrude over her bottom teeth, giving her a wolfish appearance. With all of the power contained in her body, she still moves gracefully, with purpose, like a wolf hunting silently at night. The same strong hands that are used to swing the large wooden maul with intent to kill, are used to protect those under her care. Powerful: Shadowscrap stands at six feet eight inches, placing her on the larger end of the spectrum of her ancestry. Her muscles are taut and lithe, not fully displaying her strength at a glance, but on closer inspection, her arms are like steel cords wound tight, and her legs like springs compressed, ready to launch her into action. With broad shoulders, the large cloth knot she wears on her back does not look so cumbersome, even though it is dozens of meters of cloth all bound together. Her wild eyes, sharp features and wolf-like smile all add to the fierce, feral aura she exudes. Boisterous: With animated body language and a larger than life personality, Shadowscrap is very loud both physically and audibly. With no physical boundaries, she tends to be a close talker, big hugger, and back slapper. Because she has a lot to say, and because she speaks with her hands, her speech is often paired with overt and disruptive hand gestures, that include but aren't limited to: Flexing, swinging her maul, grabbing her horns, picking people up and shaking them, smacking her forehead, and beating her chest. Her childhood in the Feywilds, where words were not always the best language to communicate with forced her to develop and eventually unconsciously use her body and the world around her to do the speaking for her. Messy: In the Feywilds, unless being polite in the domain of a being who was particular about the organization of their home, there was little reason to pick up things left behind, as everything tended to be natural, or ended up being food for something else further down the food chain. As a carnivore, her food scraps were bones, which could be easily used as tribute to lesser Fey that would receive them as gifts and grant boons. This habit was not lost when she wandered her way back to the mortal plane, and she has a terrible habit of dropping things when she is done with them, or tearing apart her clothes in order to wipe her hands, face or weapon whenever need be. Her treatment of material wealth is very unlike most around her. Feylike: The same odd mannerisms that make her stand out, are also apparent in her physical appearance. The horns on her head are not part of her lineage, which is a mistake that can be forgiven, but they are in fact, just a strange side effect of her time within the Feywilds. One day they began growing, and one day they simply stopped. Given she was more concerned with her survival as a child, the horns were accepted as just another strange feature of her new home. Her eyes sparkle with the same ombre color of fire as her horns, and her clothing is styled after a particularly noble Fey who took her under her wing when she was still a little girl, which is why she dresses in such over the top, colorfully whimsical outfits. Animalistic: Unlike the horns, which were a blessing from her home; the pointed fangs, sharp, hungry eyes, and animalistic mannerisms are signs of her Shifter background. Though not known completely to her, her Longtooth Lineage has given her canid features which are most noticeable when she is excited, which also happens to be her neutral emotional state. In combat, even when in her human form, her hunched shoulders, snarling features and propensity for dropping on all fours to dash directly at her foe are all habits derived from her blood. Her eyes, although usually full of mirth and delight, widen and focus intently on her target, locking on until the deed is done. Personality: A storm of energy and positivity, Shadowscrap transforms any atmosphere she finds herself in. Even before she had become an inhabitant of the Feywilds, she was a force of nature with little thought to was going on around her, but her lifetime within the chaotic plane has exacerbated the issue. Her proclivity for being loud and roughshod helped her acclimatize to the wilds, the louder and more boisterous she became, the more she became accepted by the denizens who would feed off of her chaotic personality. Though not all of inhabitants enjoyed it, she was taken in by her found family who did all they could to ensure that she continued to cultivate her feral mannerisms. Uncouth: Shadowscrap can understand manners when pressed, but in casual conversation where there are no creatures with reality shaping abilities threatening her to elevate her speech, she is unrelenting and unfiltered. Her heart is worn on her sleeve, which also makes it hard for her to disguise her emotions on her face, never mind her mouth. To make matters even worse, she speaks with a strange drawling accent, her vowels and consonants shifted in odd ways that sounds both folksy and insulting all at once. Having lived most of her life in an environment where status is variable and complicated, she finds the concept of authority on the mundane plane difficult to grasp, as often it is not based on any sort of tangible power or favors, but simply a sense of place that people all seem to agree too, which befuddles her. When confronted with any sort of rule of law or authority whose authority she does not respect or understand, she tends to become disruptive, as one would expect from someone whose morals and personality were shaped by the beings beyond the veil in the Feywilds. Mysterious: Even beyond her physical appearance and her odd dialect, Shadowscrap has a penchant for referencing things most beings in the Mundane plane could not understand, and often if she finds something similar to what exists in her homeworld, she will often reference it or even mistake it for the Feywild counterpart, which leads to her having an alarmingly strange vocabulary for otherwise normal things. Most animals that cross the temporal border are known to her in much the same way as the people on the other side, but tools and buildings and all sorts of other things are most alien to her. Though she is a simple person with simple, mostly basic motivations and instincts, she will not often talk about herself or the way she feels, and often simply let her thoughts about the current situation to be known as though she was merely an observer instead of active participant in whatever scene may be occurring. The feelings of others interest her, but she has little interest in the past, only the future and the now. Animalistic: Eating off of the ground, wandering around bare foot in the rain, grooming herself in rivers and having a complete disregard for social standards are all examples of why Shadowscrap is more like a pet than a comrade. Often, she follows her nose and will taste things to investigate them, finding that her more basic instincts are more trustworthy to her than thinking about things. Even the way she reacts to the world around her is in line with her heritage, baring her fangs, enjoying close contact, and big stretches in sunny spots. Well-Meaning: Though she is not the most careful of individuals, or thoughtful, she has a big heart and lots of love to give everyone around her. Though she is temperamental and prone to exaggerated bouts of emotion, it is always because she feels so strongly about so many things. It is because of this passion and open emotion that is such a force for good. Though she does not always know the right path, she is willing to forge her own through any kind of danger as long as she feels she is doing the right thing in her heart. Gentle: Though she may not look it, and though she may appear like a force of nature, she can be kind and nurturing when the situation calls for it. Hard, crunchy outside, soft, squishy inside. Her respect for the natural world around her is great, and the beauty she sees in it is indescribable. The land and its inhabitants feed her, protect her, and clothe her, and she is at peace that when her time comes, she too, will feed the land. This serene understanding of her place in the universe allows her to be so comfortable with taking small moments to give back when it matters. Nurturing the injured, protecting that which cannot protect itself, and paying tribute to mother nature. Background: Before The Feywilds: Shadowscrap was born to a litter of 6, and her family was a small part in a tight knit pack of outsiders. Though she retains no significant memories of this previous life, she sometimes gets faint visions of the pure white fur of her mother, similar to her own, but more elegant and mature. Even from a young age, she was the biggest of her siblings, so she cannot even blame the Fey Wilds on her growth. She recalls her childhood being peaceful and warm, but outside of that emotional connection, her memories are but a haze. Unbeknownst to her, the patriarch of the pack was a powerful warrior in his own right, who was in command of the small communities militia. A lot of the games he would play with his children were war games of indoctrination designed to strengthen the children and ready them for combat. Though this worked in her favour in later years, it was not a life her mother wanted for her children. The matriarch of the family was an oracle of some repute. Though her reach was limited due to the ostracization of the family, her skills were renowned. Those willing to risk life and limb to find the secluded village, never mind gamble with their lives in reaching out to them, would find their fortunes in her words. Her ability to parse between the thin barriers of the planes and peer through the shroud of time was a gift and a curse. Though Shadowscrap would never find out, it was a vision of her mothers that set into action the course of events that would find her crossing the barrier from her old world into a new, strange world, where she would have to fight to survive. Whatever it was that the oracle saw in her vision, she saw fit that only one of her children would be set upon that path, a decision that must have nearly killed her. Once the young girl had found herself untethered from her home plane, her family and home were wiped out, their women and children taken slaves. The Feywild Family: Though the first year in the Fey Wilds are hazy, she was lucky to find her new family quickly. Though the first few weeks were spent blearily wandering through ever changing scenery with tears flowing from her eyes, she was quickly found, pitied, and adopted by what she would come to start calling mother. The Fey entity preferred to take the form of a nine tailed fox, similar to the canid wolf-like form that Shadowscrap would take when entering her beast form. This familiarity quickly eased the tension of her arrival in the group, which consisted of all kinds of orphaned animals, whether or not they could speak or not. The entity simply called itself mother, and they all seemed to accept that fact without issue, as they were nurturing, kind, and above all else, seemingly powerful beyond comprehension. Yet despite the strength and overwhelming power, there was never any fear in her presence. Mother guided the white haired orphan through her childhood, teaching her how to survive in the dangerous Fey Wilds, how to hunt and dress her kills, how to recognize what plants could be eaten, what could be used to heal, and what could be used to kill. Though she was an eager student, there had been more than a few rescue operations performed on her after eating what could only be described as something deadly poisonous. Still, mother had infinite patience for her children, and taught them and cultivated their skills once she recognized their potential. The words used to describe Shadowscrap were 'Diamond in the rough', which was a badge she wore with pride. Though she was not smart, she was quick on her feet and with her tongue. While she did not always have the best thing to say, she would have something to say, whether for better or worse. Her strength was impressive even from a young age, and Mother would send her out on tasks to allow her to constantly improve upon it. The family itself was a very physical family, often wrestling and play-fighting, all of which helped improved her already natural strength. Her siblings counted in the dozens, but with such a large family, there was plenty of crossover of the friend groups. For the most part, she would play with the youngest of the group after her, an otterlike creature that could swim through the ground as well as it could the water. Nomilia was small but very friendly and attached to her older sister, and Shadowscrap fell right into step as a big sister without hesitation. There were others, but their relationship was the most tightknit. It was thanks to the help of Nomilia that the two of them could adventure out into the Fey Wilds, using a combination of the strength of the Shifter, and scouting of her friend. With an endless thirst for adventure and exploration, the two of them travelled far and wide across the wilds, giving them confidence and experience. This confidence was what drove Shadowscrap out to hunt one day, where she would meet yet another consequential figure in her life, but also one that would change the course of her future yet again. Though she could not tell how long she had been in the Fey Wilds, close to two decades had passed, and the impact of the Wilds themselves on her were substantial. Meeting Jolly: After a long day hunting, far too far from home, with her prize in hand she came across a familiar scenario. Fey creatures are well known to be whimsical and fairweather with their motivations, and coming across a group of Azeban bullying a fairy in the rain. Mother had raised her to be a upstanding individual, and in the name of goodness, she stepped forward. Though it ended without bloodshed, which was not her preferred method of handling things, it seemed as though she had found herself a new friend, albeit a talkative one. The promise of wishes for saving and protecting her was simply the icing on the cake. Luckily for Jolly, the Shifter was relatively simple with the wishes she would request, which helped build the illusion that the Fairy was far more powerful and interesting than she really was. While swept up in the grandiosity of the promises and stories the Fairy wove for her, she made an offhand comment about how she wished she could meet her birth parents after telling a tale of her own. It was during this conversation that the two had unwittingly crossed once more through the thin barriers between planes, bringing them both unknowingly to the mundane plane. Jolly noticed before Shadowscrap, but as soon as the two became aware of the situation, they tried to turn back. The Shifter was not sure if she had ever felt such fear before. The influence of Mother was completely missing from her, and suddenly she realized just how influential the presence of her adopted parent had been while she had been in the Wilds. Her presence had been comforting and boundless. Now, even with her talkative companion, she felt more alone than ever before. The Accidental Return: The world outside of the Fey Wilds was hostile and unrelenting. No matter which way she turned, the absence of Mother was suffocating. The warmth and protection she had always felt with her, even in the darkest, loneliest nights was missing, and she was beginning to panic. If it was not for Jolly and her ceaseless chattering, Shadowscrap may have gone mad. Putting their heads together, they formulated a plan to find civilization and see if there was anyone who could help them return home. In the meantime, the Shifter was happy to dedicate her time to hunting and building them a shelter while the Fairy focused on their plan. All the while, in the back of her mind, the latest wish resonated. Were her parents here? Was anyone from her family alive? What sort of backhanded wish had the Fairy cast upon them that had torn them from their comfort so. In honor of Mother, she did not accuse her companion of doing this purposefully, but the thought always sits at the back of her mind. RP Sample: The sound of her bare, wet feet slapping against the muddy earth was drowned out by the incessant hiss of heavy rain. Her long white hair hung around her body like an extra layer of clothing, parted down her forehead so she could see beyond it. The cord of the nio-daisuki hung limply behind her, dragging along as she walked, having become sodden and heavy with water. Yet despite the uncomfortable situation, she bore a bright smile on her face, her fiery orange eyes practically sparkling with joy as she dragged along her maul with one hand, and the carcass of a particularly valuable ungulate of some sort that she and the crew would be able to dress and prepare and feast on for days. While the Feywilds were home to all sorts of sentient beasts, most of which would be too fearsome or too entertaining to hunt, there were plenty of poor creatures from the mundane plane that would pass through those thin areas where worlds intersected, and they provided excellent game and food. Her family would be pleased with her findings, and maybe Mother would even give her a reward. Still squelching as she dragged her prize along with her, her sensitive nose twitched as an unfamiliar aroma tickled her olfactory senses. Beyond the wet mud and foliage, the scent of other creatures begant to grow as she continued forward. More than anything, she was concerned about her game, if anyone was around and had as sensitive nose as she did, they would surely smell the blood. As she crept forward though, it became apparent that of the two parties, she was the only one aware of the other. Not wanting to release her meal, she slowed even further, keeping low to the ground and moving at a snails pace as she followed her nose, eventually coming to a clearing where the canopy of dense trees at the top had lessened the rainfall, though it still fell as a light mist. In the center were three tall, skinny, raccoon like beings standing in a triangle, arguing unintelligibly about a small yellow and green bug that was being held upside down by one of them, yelling profanity at them. Occasionally, one would poke the Fairy, causing small showers of light to burst out from her like some sort of firework. It had seemed she had stumbled upon some sort of racketeering raccoons that were currently trying to bully the magic out of the poor thing. Though she was not really in the mood for fighting, as she was getting hungry and her family was waiting for her to bring home the bacon as it were, she could not stand for this sort of injustice. "Oi, if that fairy ain't abidin' by this sort of un-to-ward ac-tiv-i-ty, then y'all best get to a-polo-gi-zin' before I come over there an' this becomes a problem" As the words are stretched out, with each syllable pronounced with fervor, her head bobs from side to side, emphasizing them even further. She punctuates the sentence by audibly slamming her fist into the palm of her hand, and baring her canid fangs at the scene before her. When it does not seem as though the Azeban are willing to let go of their new charge, the snarling smile curls up as her stark white hair begins to descend down her neck and back while the proportions of her body begin to lengthen and sharpen. Shadowscrap digs at the ground with one hand ending with her new sharp talons as she stares down the creatures, her hair entwining as it coils down her back forming a kitsune like tail. Though her form had always been fearsome, the manifestation of the Fey Wilds through her transformation had given it an ethereal, otherworldly appearance that she was oh so grateful for. The chattering of the raccoon creatures had silenced, though the Fairy was still slinging her insults. "Ready or not, here ah come"

[Aisede]

Jolly Basics Name: Jolly Race: Fairy Background: Feylost Class: Bard ("Worship me!") Subclass: Glamour ~ Mechanical Background Appearance: Best described as dainty petally, the little sprite stands an astounding, four inches tall, adorned in a Spring dress, and sporting a magnifical mane of hair the color of sunlight, little Jolly stands– or floats –at the ready, armed with an arsenal of bells. She can typically be found orbiting Shadowscrap, whom she unfortunately owes a life debt to after... Certain events which-shall-not-be-disclosed. Little, or Lilliputian? even for a fairy, Jolly happens to be on the slighter side. She likes to pretend she's much taller than she really is, and woe be the poor sod who makes mention of her size without proper respect. When enlarged, Jolly still only manages around four feet, but the fairy largely prefers to remain in her default miniature state. A Very Merry Fairy: Tiny gold bells line the borders of her dress, accompanying Jolly's every little movement with her own merry jingle. She also possesses a larger golden bell which she focuses her magic into. The merry tune of a simple bell brings her joy. Regal, or Ego? Jolly brings a number of fey aesthetics with her, including iridescent green elytra, eyes with an unnaturally intense hue, glittering fairy dust, and the smell of fresh grass. She seems to be of the mind that these characteristics give her an inherent advantage over other fey, at least in terms of attractive qualities. Personality: Vain and narcissistic, Jolly believes the world is a stage. And not just any stage, but her stage, with Jolly herself the star actor. And why shouldn't she be? She's beautiful, well-spoken, and possesses more fairy charm in one pinky than the Queen does in two fat toes. One of these days, she will bring enlightenment to the mortals of the Material Plane, and they will worship her as a goddess... But until then, she doesn't mind exploring the world with her companion, Shadowscrap. Making friends isn't... Well, it isn't half bad, really. Prolix, or Prose? is it really the business of others whether or not her speech conforms to the limited scope of the mortal races? Fair, or Falty? Jolly is of the form belief that the mortal races serve only one function: to entertain their betters. What other reason do they have to exist, what with their limited minds, frail and finite lives, and– most shocking of all –their lack of innate magic! Sure there are sorcerers, but they're flukes. Mother got in bed with a dragon and had a baby, but that baby possesses only a fraction of the power of immortals. Fight, or Flight? Jolly is less-than-jolly when confronted with an obstacle to her goals of bringing enlightenment to the mortal races. She's quick to deploy a good tongue-lashing, and quicker to charm her would-be enemies into getting beaten black and blue. Distaste, or Disdain? Given Jolly's past experiences with fey nobility, the fairy has developed a broader prejudice against nobility of any kind, including that or the mortal races. Needless to say, she won't be exhibiting the sort of respect those mortals think they are owed, especially not from an immortal fey. Background: In a past life, Jolly was a dancer, entertaining her fellow feyfolk with grace and poise. So great was her skill that she earned a place within the court of her queen, performing for nobles and diplomats both. Over time, however, the queen grew envious of Jolly's prestige, and cast her from her court. Disgraced, and alone, Jolly travelled the Feywild in search of new subjects with which to receive her grace, but found only brutes and bandits. The azeban bandits deigned to apprehend her, coveting her beauty. But hope was not lost, for them Shadowscrap appeared! Her salvation. Her savior. The savage shifter made quick work of her captors, and liberated her from the evil clutches of the monstrous fey. In thanks, she formed a contract with the barbarian: the two would travel as a unit from now on. Shadowscrap would protect Jolly, and Jolly, in turn, would grant her wishes. RP Sample: It'd been a long day; she'd been publically humiliated before all the kingdom, cast out into the savage wilds and, worst of all, accosted by common azeban! To think she'd fall victim to a Minor Illusion, of all things! The fairy was furious, red-faced and writhing in the raccoon-thing's uncomfortable grip, but ceased her tirade the moment she heard a... What even was that thing? Well, whatever it was, it was big, scary, and probably-dumb going by the fact it was challenging three trickster spirits with nothing but a crude club. She thinks for just a second, then raises her voice. "Yeah! You heard her! If you don't put me down right now you're in for a WORLD of hurt! Just look at those muscles! And that club! You could beat a man like a rug with that thing, and something tells me you lot would make for some fine pelts. Well, except for you... And you... And, come to think of it, you'd make for some poor quality furs. Just look at yourselves! No proper hygiene. How can you expect to be effective bandits when you can't overcome self-care!?" The fairy leers at the larger fey, but her ire focuses most intensely on the creature manhandling her.

[Aisede]

Um, does anybody know how to shrink images to make them NOT take up the entire block?

[Drinkslotsa]

I mostly use this website

[Aisede]

Nice, thnx m8

[Alemar]

SO I just had a question about "Mechanical Background" Mechanically, Ciaran is an Entertainer, specializing in juggling. But I wasn't sure if you wanted me to pick the 2 traits, ideal, bond, and flaw, to flesh him out? Also I know it's body may be a little short, but I did want to try and stick to the time limit of 30 minutes or less for brainstorming, composing, and then editing the posts. I am excited about this character, so would love to go back and add more details to him if you feel I am lacking in any specific areas of his concept (or that you had questions about).

[The Rat Queen]

The Book of Many Things is an official sourcebook, right? Would Kathra be able to pick up a Weapon (greataxe), uncommon
Martial weapon, melee weapon
7 lb. 1d12 slashing - heavy, two-handed
You gain a +2 bonus to attack and damage rolls made with this magic greataxe while you have half your hit points or fewer.

Heavy. Creatures that are Small or Tiny have disadvantage on attack rolls with heavy weapons. A heavy weapon's size and bulk make it too large for a Small or Tiny creature to use effectively.
Two-Handed. This weapon requires two hands to use. This property is relevant only when you attack with the weapon, not when you simply hold it.
Source: BMT, page 66Bloodrage Greataxe?

[leftyyy88]

Lefty's App Name: Kroth Mokzol Race: Half-Orc Class: Warlock Sublass: Genie Mechanical Background: Guild Merchant Trait: I always want to know how things work and what makes people tick. Trait: I'm full of witty aphorisms and have a proverb for every occasion. Ideal: Everyone should be free to pursue his or her own livelihood. Bond: I owe my guild a great debt for forging me into the person I am today. Flaw: No one must ever learn that I once stole money from guild coffers. Uncommon magic item: Rod of the Pact Keeper +1 Appearance & Personality: Kroth Mokzol was not the sharpest crayon in the box. He wasn't the smartest of the guild apprentices, nor the strongest. But what he lacked in other areas, he made up with style. After the guild masters realized that Kroth would never craft anything worth selling, they nearly kicked him out. But he convinced them on three separate occasions to let him stay on. They soon realized that his gifts might lie in other areas. Standing well over six feet tall, Kroth finds it easy to browbeat the simpler merchants into a good price. But the more cunning merchants require different tactics. He might emphasize his large tusks to make the "civilized" races think they have an advantage over him. Or he might present himself as just another working stiff, scruffy beard and all, to ingratiate him with the more common folk. But any way you paint it, Kroth is going to seal the deal with a nice profit margin for the guild. Written Background: Kroth was the youngest of a large family. When he was still fairly young, his parents put him and five of his siblings on a ship and sent them to find their own way in the world. By fate, or perhaps bad luck, they found themselves in Amedio. Two of his siblings quickly got lost in the jungles on some fool expedition. Another met her end from a disease. The two who were left realized that life was a harsh mistress and helped Kroth get into the Artisan's Guild. During his time in the guild, Kroth quickly showed his aptitude in the mercantile arts, as opposed to the actual crafting of goods, so the guild masters set him to buying and selling their well-crafted goods. One particular trade agreement would change his life forever. It was supposed to be a routine trade. A flat-bottomed river boat came downriver from deeper in the jungle bearing bushels and crates of crafting materials. Kroth did a summary inspection of the shipment while he haggled on a good price. He didn't have to argue long, however, before they agreed on a price and were quickly sailing back upriver. Later that afternoon, Kroth discovered why they were so quick to leave. Most of the crates had nothing but junk: soiled clothes, rotten fruit, and broken armor were all he had to work with. One of the crates contained nothing but a capybara contentedly munching on leaves. Kroth was furious. As he was emptying the refuse that night, he found a curious thing. In a crate full of broken and rusted weapons, Kroth discovered a crude flint knife that would change Kroth's life forever.

RP Sample "Blasted thieves. Thieves and swindlers!" He threw a ruined shield against the wall and yelled wordlessly. This crate was much like the last: the wood was all splintered and most of the metal wasn't worth melting down. But money was money, and his time was cheap. He sighed and reached into the crate for the next piece of trash. The next weapon, however, found him. "Ouch! What was that? I didn't think anything in here could still hold an edge.." He sucked his bleeding thumb as he reached back in with his other hand, gingerly this time. He stared dubiously at the oblong dagger he pulled out. The short blade and long handle were strangely proportioned. It looked more like a paintbrush than a weapon. But still, it deserved inspection before he burned it. Maybe he could sell it to the curio shop down the street. He held it up to the light to see if it had any markings. As soon as he held it up, the end of the handle split in half and sand began to spill out onto the floor. Biting off a curse, Kroth threw it on the ground and backed up. "Well who is this now that's gone and found me? Marduuk? That you?" The sand swirled up into a small cloud and then faded away revealing a strange creature. Standing almost ten feet tall with obsidian skin, the creature stretched and turned to regard Kroth. All manner of jewelry jingled as it bent down to inspect the suddenly terrified half-orc. "You're not Marduuk. You big though. You eat em? Gonna get a tummy ache. He didn't like ta wash himself too good." Kroth stammered, his usually eloquent tongue failed him at that moment. "Who... What are you?" "You ain't never seen a Dao before, man? Daaaa-ooooowww. Say it with me now, I know it's 'ard to figure out bein one syllable and all that, but ya gotta try. Name's Shaamasash. Ain't even gonna try to coach you through dat one. Now where is we? What kinda place you bring me to?" Dao. Kroth had found a genie. He had heard they were terrible slavers, but cunning merchants with an eye for finely crafted goods. He took a deep breath and decided to see where fate would take him tonight. He spread his arms and smiled. "Welcome to the artisan's guild. We make, literally, everything." Kroth proceeded to lead the genie through the workshop, making sure to emphasize the personal projects of the guild masters. The genie, in turn, took it all in with an unreadable smile. "Yes, yes, this is all very good. But let's get down to brass tacks. You be workin 'ere, so you ain't no fool. You musta been summoning me for some big good reason, now. So what is it? What can Shaamasash be doin for ya? And what you gonna do for old Shaamasash in return?" Kroth froze for a spilt second. He hadn't realized he would be making a deal tonight. But his haggling instincts kicked in: never leave a customer waiting or they'll come up with a deal you don't like. "The guild has fallen on hard times. You saw that mess in the basement. People think they can dupe us with garbage like that? No, sir. They can think again. We need to teach them that the Guild is a power to be reckoned with." A sudden thought painted a broad smile on his green, tusked face. "And I, as the Guild liaison, will be the one to show them." Shaamasash leaned forward, an evil grin on his face. "Oh, I can be givin ya power, boy. But what can you be givin in return?" Kroth thought quickly and spoke without thinking. "Well, me! I will be your liaison to the Guild. I'll be your servant and ensure that any future dealings--" Shaamasash darted forward and grabbed Kroth's hand. "Done! You freely offer and I accept. And now to bind it." Suddenly the obsidian dagger flashed in front of Kroth and pain seared his palm. The genie reached out and sprinkled the dark sand into the wound, then curled Kroth's hand up into a fist. "You're mine now, boy. I'll be watching ya." A strange wind picked up inside the guild headquarters, scattering papers and crafting materials. Shaamasash turned to sand and blew away on the wind until the only thing left was his too-big smile. "You're mine!"

[krossingkhory]

Originally Posted by Red Leper

Can I use the Reborn race from Van Richten's?
If not, I have an alternate idea.

After careful consideration, I'm going to say "No" to this race. Not having to eat is fine; not having to drink is fine; not having to breathe is fine. All 3 of those as core racial abilities at the same time? Just a bit more over-powered for a race than I'd like to deal with.

Originally Posted by Alemar

SO I just had a question about "Mechanical Background" Mechanically, Ciaran is an Entertainer, specializing in juggling. But I wasn't sure if you wanted me to pick the 2 traits, ideal, bond, and flaw, to flesh him out? Also I know it's body may be a little short, but I did want to try and stick to the time limit of 30 minutes or less for brainstorming, composing, and then editing the posts. I am excited about this character, so would love to go back and add more details to him if you feel I am lacking in any specific areas of his concept (or that you had questions about).

I would prefer you to sort those out...but to give away a secret for the group that gets selected, I will be allowing changes during formal character creation (read: when the group is selected). So if you settle on something now but then decide later, assuming you get selected, that it isn't right for you, I won't get all bent out of shape if it needs to be tweaked.

Originally Posted by The Rat Queen

The Book of Many Things is an official sourcebook, right? Would Kathra be able to pick up a Weapon (greataxe), uncommon
Martial weapon, melee weapon
7 lb. 1d12 slashing - heavy, two-handed
You gain a +2 bonus to attack and damage rolls made with this magic greataxe while you have half your hit points or fewer.

Heavy. Creatures that are Small or Tiny have disadvantage on attack rolls with heavy weapons. A heavy weapon's size and bulk make it too large for a Small or Tiny creature to use effectively.
Two-Handed. This weapon requires two hands to use. This property is relevant only when you attack with the weapon, not when you simply hold it.
Source: BMT, page 66Bloodrage Greataxe?

I read up on this today, and I'm good with it. Keep in mind that the rarity for a +2 weapon is normally RARE, but this drops to UNCOMMON due to the bonus only being applicable if you are at less than half of your normal total hit points. Read that again please, because if you end up with temporary hit points they do not count when determining if you are at less than half. But otherwise, I'm ok if you want this as your 1 UNCOMMON item.

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I will be going through the characters that have already been started today, and I will update the table and provide some small amounts of feedback. Nothing Greyhawk-shattering in terms of feedback, but rather just whatever notes I have and stuff I see.

In addition to that, I'll be updating the FAQ to show answers to a few questions that have come up.

[penbeast0]

Is a Bag of Holding okay for an uncommon item?