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

[krossingkhory]

Originally Posted by penbeast0

Is a Bag of Holding okay for an uncommon item?

It is, and it is an item I expect every group to get a hold of (pun fully intended) by the time they hit level 3.

[penbeast0]

Let's me store corpses and skeletons when I go into town. :-)

[Ghrimm]

Name: Quentin “Quin” Whylde
Race: Human (Variant)
Class: Ranger - Gloomstalker
Alignment: Neutral Good
Background: Urban Bounty Hunter
Personality Traits: 1) I am incredibly slow to trust. Those who seem the fairest often have the most to hide. 2) I am always calm, no matter what the situation. I never raise my voice or let my emotions control me.
Ideal: People - I'm loyal to my friends, not to any ideals, and everyone else can take a trip down the Styx for all I care.
Bond: Someone I loved died because of a mistake I made. That will never happen again.
Flaw: I have a "tell" that reveals when I'm lying.
Appearance: At 5’11” Quin tends to blend into the crowd. Very little about him stands out. He doesn’t bother much with his appearance, simply tying his dark hair back when it gets too long and only shaving when his beard starts to get in the way. He makes a point of bathing semi-regularly, though, and his simple cloths and leather armor while worn are generally well maintained. In his line of work anonymity can be an asset. The only thing he can’t readily conceal are his hazel eyes – wolf eyes as his father called them. He tends to carry his crossbow cradled in his arms rather than slung on his back, and two well used short swords are strapped to his legs. The hilts of knives can be seen poking from his hunting boots.
Personality: Quin can seem quiet and a bit grim, but this is simply the façade he chooses to present to the world. It helps him to maintain a certain distance from others. Quin was betrayed once and it cost him the life of someone very dear to him, which has made him a bit cynical and very slow to trust. When he does let someone in though they could not ask for a more loyal friend. He will even crack a joke now and then, though his dry, sarcastic wit often goes unnoticed. Despite a colorful upbringing, there was one thing Quin never learned to do well - lie. It simply does not come naturally to him. Normally so quiet and taciturn, when he tries lying he always over thinks it – providing too much detail, being too exact.
History: Quin was born in the slums of Old City. His father worked the docks in Greyhawk proper, but he had a family to support and could not make enough to afford better housing. Quin lost his mother early, at the age of six. She died giving birth to his younger sister. Their father did his best by them but he never got over the loss of his wife, crawling into a bottle most evenings. His drinking soon led to missed wages and Quin had to resort to being a runner for a local gang as well as trying his hand at pilfering food. Though he didn’t like to do it, he proved somewhat adept. He managed to keep enough food on the table and cloths on their backs, but unbeknownst to Quin their father had begun racking up debts. Early in his fifteenth year Quin returned home to find his sister missing and his father sobbing. His markers had been called in, and the only thing of value he had was his young daughter. She was taken and sold to one of the local flesh houses – he didn’t even know which. Quin walked out that day and has never looked back.

He turned to the contacts he had made on the street, trying to locate his sister. But she had already changed hands. Being so young and intact had made her a real commodity. He began working his way up through the Old City’s underworld. Along the way he learned how to make a living hunting men – a career he found strangely satisfying. Perhaps because the men he hunted tended to deserve it. It took Quin well over a year to find her, and by then it was too late. She was dying, succumbing to a combination of exhaustion, drugs and disease. He buried her in a common grave, the best he could do, and left Greyhawk never to look back.

He took his skills as a man hunter and parlayed them into a career, learning to hunt in the wilderness as well as the alleys. He now chooses his contracts carefully, often playing the role of guide rather than bounty hunter.

RP Sample:Quin studied the tavern from the shadows, content to wait for his prey to make his exit. It had been a long hunt – almost two months – but he finally had Jakobi run to ground. The bandit had been a particularly canny adversary, sacrificing his men and sending Quin on goose chase after goose chase. But that was over, now there would be a reckoning. Jakobi had burned out his last farmer. He was holed up, awaiting the arrival of reinforcements – reinforcements that were lying dead in a ravine. Still, Quin hesitated. To take his quarry in the tavern could result in collateral damage. Quin didn’t want to risk anyone else getting hurt. Far better to take him as he ran. So, he waited. He needn’t wait long, Jakobi was not known for his patience.

Sure enough, within the hour the inn’s stableman was saddling a horse and leading it around to the rear. His men overdue by a day, Jakobi was getting spooked. He was either going to make a run for it or try and meet his men on the road. Knowing Jakobi, he would make a run for it. Quin slipped around to the side of the inn, where he could get a sight line on the rear exit while still keeping one eye on the front. He had been fooled for the last time.
A few minutes passed, then someone exited and mounted the horse behind the inn but Quin hesitated. The build was close and the cloak was right, but who ever was under there hadn’t moved like Jakobi. They had seemed hesitant, and slightly shy of the horse. Quin smiled and shifted his aim back around to the front – and not a moment too soon. The stableman had saddled not one but two horses, and the second came bursting out of the barn making a dash back up the road.

Quin sited carefully, taking his time. Even as skilled as he was, he would likely only have enough time for the one clean shot before Jakobi entered the forest’s canopy. Slowly he squeezed the trigger and rode the buck of the heavy crossbow, quickly dropping it and using his goat’s foot to rearm the string dropping another bolt into place without ever taking his eyes off the target. Even as he brought the crossbow back up to his shoulder his first bolt found the man, slamming into his back and throwing him off the horse.

Quin walked slowly toward his target, his crossbow still at the ready, but the target remained still. Reaching him, Quin flipped over the corpse and cursed soundly. It was Jakobi’s second. The question was, how long had he been chasing the wrong target? When had they switched places? He would have to back track, possibly loosing several days. Nothing for it though. Bending, he began the grisly chore of separating the lieutenant’s head. He wasn’t worth as much as Jakobi, but a bounty was a bounty.

[DadJokesRanger]

Application Name: Tóki Race: Half-Orc Class: Bard Subclass: College of Valor Mechanical Background: Outlander Appearance & Personality: Aren’t half orcs all supposed to be 7 feet and 300 sinewy pounds of grim cynicism? If so, nobody told Tóki. Although he stands a respectable 6’1”, he’s downright rangy by orcish standards. And his generally cheerful personality stands at odds with all the stereotypes of both his homeland (Schnai) and his mother’s orcish lineage. People tend to find him quaintly charming, and most hardly mind the dagger-sharp fangs jutting from his mandible. Character Traits: Loves learning (and sometimes inventing) new idioms and turns of phrase. Sticks up for the underdog even when it's not a good idea. Began keeping a diary once he left home, in which he's chronicling his journey to Amedio. Ideals: Values freedom ("chains are meant to be broken") and respect ("for all creatures, big and small. Especially the small") Bonds: Wants to honor the traditions of both his human father and orcish mother, but knows very little of his mother's people. Flaws: Regards caution as something for greybeards. Has no self-control when it comes to salted codfish. Ocassionally feels a calling from deep within to go completely feral, a sudden desire to live, kill, and eat like a true monster. But most of the time that feeling turns out to just be gas from the salted codfish. Written Background: Tóki grew up in the hinterlands of Schnai, the realm of the Snow Barbarians. His human father and orcish mother were deeply in love, and their unlikely romance was the subject of more than a few mead-fueled gossip sessions in the mountains back home. As a lad he loved hearing tales of his father’s adventures as a seafarer and his mothers stories of her people, a nomadic tribe that wandered the jungles of Amedio. All things considered, his childhood was about as stable and warm as one is likely to encounter in the land of the Snow Barbarians. But alas, no orc lives forever. Except maybe Iuz, but come on, let’s have one conversation about orcs where somebody doesn’t bring up Iuz the Evil, sheesh. No, sadly, just as Tóki was coming of age, his mother was reaching the end of her natural life. Father and son grieved in the manner of good Schnai barbarians, and then the half-orc storyteller departed his homeland for the very first time. He left to find the Amedio Jungle, contact his mother’s tribe, and deliver unto them a final gift from that tribe’s wayward daughter: her skull. You know, just regular orc things. 30 Minute (or less) RP Sample: From the Diary of Tóki Jurgenson Dear Diary, kind of a weird day today. Stopped at a roadside inn to get a little mead and maybe some herring and meatballs. Outside, three humans with cudgels were pummeling this goblin lad like he was a dusty rug. The little guy was unarmed and trying his best to get away. But, you know, humans with sticks. Well you know me, Diary, I can’t keep my mouth shut. So I walk up with a hearty [Schnaidish] Hello and good morning!"Hej och god morgon!” I say, “Excuse me, but I can understand killing a goblin if it’s trying to stab you, or maybe if it’s stealing your turnips. But what you’re doing here, it’s a little rude, ja? At least give the goblin a stick of his own. Think about it, friends: if you’re gambling on which one of you lands the killing blow on this wretch, giving him a stick would really help the spread!” They called me lots of names after that, and I gotta tell you diary it got me pretty steamed. I really wanted to clobber these guys and solve the poor little gob’s problem for him. But you know what Pappa says, Diary, “you can’t solve someone’s problem by solving it for them.” And I know it’s good advice, but Pappa didn’t’ say anything about using my wonderful talk-magic--did you, Jurgen? So I put a hand on the goblin’s shoulder and said. “Hej buddy! Sorry you don’t have a weapon, that must feel pretty crummy. But sometimes when you don’t have a weapon,Ability: Combat Inspiration maybe you choose to become the weapon, ja?" The goblin, feeling encouraged, ran up to the nearest of his tormenters and punched him square in the knee. The goblin was almost as surprised as his target when the blow shattered the human's kneecap and sent him sprawling. After that, Diary, things got a little crazy! You know, blades drawn, blood spilled. No reason to dwell on it. Anyway, here's hoping he made it back safely to his tiny-but-almost-certainly-numerous family. Okay, need to get back on the road; I'm probably wanted for manslaughter now. Oh Diary, why doesn’t anybody seek me out for my ability to incite man's laughter instead? Talk to you soon, adjö Diary, XOXO! Part 2:

[Aisede]

Bags of holding are common? I thought they were a magical item? And aren't we all starting at lv3?

[kanly]

WIP Name: Brinn Race: Human Class: Druid 2/ Monk 1 Subclass: Circle of the Moon Mechanical Background: Rune Carver Trait: In my studies of runes, I strive to understand how great civilizations of the past fell, so that I may prevent it from happening to societies of the present. Trait: Is it practical to learn an ancient language that is rarely spoken? No. But is it fun? Very. Ideal: Tradition. The stories, legends, and songs of the past must never be forgotten. (Lawful) Bond: I suffer awful visions of a coming disaster and will do anything to prevent it. Flaw: I'd risk too much to uncover a lost bit of knowledge. Appearance & Personality: A tall, thin woman with bronze skin, dark hair worn in a simple braid and eyes the color of bitter chocolate. She wears simple, utilitarian clothing that allows for freedom of movement while still giving protection from the elements. Written Background: 30 Minute (or less) RP Sample:

[krossingkhory]

Originally Posted by Aisede

Bags of holding are common? I thought they were a magical item? And aren't we all starting at lv3?

Bag of Holding is an UNCOMMON magic item. Everyone gets either 1 potion of healing and 1 common item, or 1 uncommon item.

And yes, you are starting at level 3. Did someone say otherwise?

[Ildrahil]

Application| Faldo Fleetfoot | Swashbuckler Rogue | It's Not the Size of the Dog in the Fight, It's the Size of the Fight in the Dog Name: Faldo Fleetfoot Race: Halfling Class: Rogue Subclass: Swashbuckler Mechanical Background: Haunted: Faldo is a swashbuckler, he's brash, quick with a quip, and always seems upbeat. But he's hiding something. He suffers terribly on the inside due to the death of his friend, something he blames himself for. He's very much the tears of a clown kind of PC. Personality Traits I refuse to become a victim, and I will not allow others to be victimized: He stands up for the downtrodden. I put no trust in divine beings: He thinks the gods care little for the creatures of this world and we are simply here for their amusement. Ideals Rules are not necessarily sacred, principles are: He is NG. This is a quote from FDR that I love and I picked it if it's okay with you. Bonds A terrible guilt consumes me. I hope that I can find redemption through my actions: He continually tries to make up for the guilt he feels for letting one of his best friends die. Flaws I talk to spirits that no one else can see: Faldo talk to his fallen friend for he feels responsible for his death. The crazy thing is, Faldo thinks his friend answers him back sometimes, Now, whether he does or it's simply Faldo's imagination is something to flesh out during RP and with the DMs help. Appearance & Personality: Talkative and friendly, Faldo also hides a dark-side, or more precisely a shadow, that sometimes puts him in a somber mood. Standing a full 3'4" tall, he's proud of being one of the tallest Halflings in his little hamlet located in the Principality of Ulek. You always see Faldo wearing a rather Cloak of Protectionhandsome reversible cloak, even in high summer. The cloak is a forest green on one side and a vibrant red on the other, and depending on his circumstances he wears it either way. His britches tend to be browns or grays and he wears supple lace up boots that help to drown his footfalls. His deeply tanned complexion bespeaks of his time spent out in the sun and that the green of his cloak probably sees the most use. But other than his size, none of this is particularly unusual or noteworthy for one of his people, what is unusual are his deep brown eyes. His eyes betray a deep hurt, one for which he must and will atone. Written Background: Food, good beverages, stability, the occasional puff of pipeweed, and food, err did I mention that already? Well, that is what motivates most halflings. Then why is Faldo so different? Oh, don't get me wrong, Faldo likes to eat, no, he loves to eat, and if there's a pipeful to be had he'll fill a bowl and puff with the best of 'em, but Faldo's feet like to roam. Stability is like torture to this young Halfling. And that sometimes can cause trouble. In fact, if halflings had middle names, which some do and others do not, well, Faldo's would be Trouble. For if he can't find trouble, trouble invariably finds him. Faldo hails from the Principality of Ulek and often went off with the neighboring Hill and Mountain Dwarves that lived nearby, much to the chagrin of his parents. Stuck plum dab in the middle of his four siblings, Faldo always yearned to go out and explore, to get away from the gardening and other Halfling-like undertakings of his brothers and sisters. And this, of course, is what led to the trouble that haunts him to this day... 30 Minute (or less) RP Sample: "...Quiet," Faldo hissed in a whisper as his clumsy Dwarven companions continued to stumble through the underbrush. "You'll wake up the dead with all that racket, let alone the Orcs and Goblins." He wonders again why he brought them. Sure, they are his two best friends, and that rarest of rarities, Dwarven twins. Bambra and Bumbra by name, to be exact. It was his job to scout for the forces of the Prince, his and the other Halflings of the Royal Ulek Scouts. But Bambra and Bumbra weaseled and cajoled him until he could bear no more and eventually Faldo gave in and let them come. And to Faldo's utter horror and eternal shame, that is when it happened. Bumbra slipped and skidded down the hill into the very camp of Goblins he has sent to scout out. Faldo reacted more than thought and skidded down the hill after him, rapier and short sword in his hands like a flash, slashing and stabbing. Behind him came Bambra, wielding his hammer like he was hammering in nails, not the heads of unlucky Goblins. Bumbra rose and he too started to make short work of the Goblins with his axes. As quickly as it had started it was over, all the Goblins dispatched. "Phew," Faldo said, "that was close, we could have been," he stopped short and never finished that sentence. He saw the look on Bumbra's face and turned, There was Bambra holding his belly, a Goblin's dagger still protruding. "Ach, this is gonna spoil me whole day," Bambra said. Faldo and Bumbra rushed as best they could, half carrying, half dragging Bambra to get help. But it was far, the terrain was rugged and dense with underbrush, and they still needed to move with some degree of stealth. By the time they made it back to camp, Bambra breathed no more. The tears streaking down Faldo's face were only matched by Bumbra's own tears. Needless to say, the proceedings were quick and Faldo was no longer a member of the Royal Ulek Scouts. As Faldo left Ulek and the friends and family he knew, he vowed he would never let a friend down again.

Part Deux Okay, for everyone's ecucation, I'm a mod and I can read secret text. So, for future reference, if you secret your text and then use a spoiler around it, I will not read it since it is not meant for me. If it is meant for me simply secret it and I'll see it. I moved quickly as I went through this to find where my application was, and I really didn't catch anything.

[krossingkhory]

A site moderator applying for this game? Wow! I better be on my best behavior now!

Um, @Ildrahil, um, you have a, uh, image there that isn't showing?

[leftyyy88]

It shows for me. Is your internet blocking it? I have that problem at work, they block ImgBB and a few others... which is lame...

[Ildrahil]

How about now? It might be because of where and how I store it. Otherwise, it might be because of what leftyyy88 said?

[krossingkhory]

Originally Posted by Ildrahil

How about now? It might be because of where and how I store it. Otherwise, it might be because of what leftyyy88 said?

No, I still cannot see it. I am on my desktop, so I don't have anything that might be blocking it active. Not that I believe, anyhow. Let me check from my phone.

Jeopardy music!

Nope, can't see it there either. I'll quote your post, pull the tag, and just go look at it manually. We can make this work!

EDIT: It's an attachment here on the site that, apparently, I do not have the appropriate permission to view.

[Ildrahil]

Hmmm, it may be because I story my images in a place where only CS members can go. I tried something different. Can you see it now?

[Alemar]

Ildrahil's good people, don't let his sexy red nameplate scare you...

[krossingkhory]

Originally Posted by Ildrahil

Hmmm, it may be because I story my images in a place where only CS members can go. I tried something different. Can you see it now?

Nope. I just see the broken link thingy.