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Old Jan 6th, 2023, 06:29 PM
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APPLICATION ready for review
-not 100% sure if I followed your rules for skill selection. Let me know.
-I didn't select an offensive cantrip because I plan to multiclass to wizard for the second level

Gerbo Snorrblader (Knowledge Cleric - Level 1)
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Name: Gerbo Snorrblader
Race: Forest Gnome (PHB)
Class: Knowledge Cleric
Background: customized Guild Artisan (Shoemaker)

Personality Traits:
-I'm a snob who looks down on those who can't appreciate my art.
-I'm rude to people who lack my commitment to hard work.
-I'm always taken aback when people haven't heard of me.
-I have to find rare magic and craft it into fine art, while trusting in Rill Cleverthrush's guidance
- I work hard to be the best there is at my craft.
-I'll do anything to get my hands on something rare or priceless.
-I'm a grumpy man

Artwork by Gary Laib, titled Abraham-The Caretaker, found here

Master Gerbo Snorrblader moves with a firm tread through the spacious premises of his shop, Gerbo's Finest Shoes. Satisfied with himself and his decision. Everything is settled. Time to go.

His journeymen and apprentices left hours ago. Only Gerbo went back to the shop after spending dinner time with his wife and his seven fully grown kids. Monday is family dinner. As always he patiently endured the weekly routine at home. Nodding to the meaningless chatter, maybe adding a grumpy and prosaic comment, when necessary. But mainly watching them getting fatter and fatter every day. Then he completely lapses into silence with his gaze resting on the news paper, which again reports about the place that secretly occupies him for month already: Westhaven.

Now back to the shop, he quickly pays homage to Rill Cleverthrush before he enters the hidden room behind the well maintained shrine in the corner of the workshop. There he dons his old armor and collects his adventuring gear that he had prepared days in advance.

Over many years, his shop produced shoes for the king, the queen and their royal household. For all the men of the King's army, the whole city and the vast kingdom. Boots for adventurers and heroes, for giants and cats. Mundane or magic-bound, he could craft them all. But ... when was it the last time that he had the opportunity to apply his arcane knowledge for a really special pair of shoes?

Rill Cleverthrush's is calling. Gerbo clearly feels it. Unseen materials, gems and magic are waiting in the unexplored lands of the West Marches.

The note that he left for his family, reads "I had to travel. Important business. Don't wait. Gerbo. PS: More gold in the locker of my study room". Not that they will need it. But better this than leaving a heart shape or sweet words. Gerbo won't be back for the Monday dinner. Neither next week, nor next month... With a rarely seen smile on his face, the gnome exists the Western city gates.

Second Stats Roll

Characters sheet

OOC, Actions, Rolls


Last edited by secretID; Jan 10th, 2023 at 09:19 AM. Reason: correcting things...
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Old Jan 8th, 2023, 03:17 PM
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Aliss Weatherwax
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Witchsona by andarisi on Tumblr
Name: Aliss Weatherwax
Race: Human (Variant)
Class: Artificer
Background: Sage
Trait: I've spent so long in my cottage in the woods that I have little practical experience dealing with people in the outside world.
Trait: I was, in fact, raised by hags.
Ideal: Sincerity. There's no good in pretending to be something I'm not.
Bond: I had a family, but I have no idea if I still do. One day, I hope to see them again.
Flaw: I am suspicious of strangers and suspect the worst of them.

Backstory: Aliss never knew her family. She knew the hunched, enigmatic old woman who raised her as 'Granny', but then everyone called her that, and none of the many elderly 'aunties' who visited their little cottage in the woods were her relatives either. This never troubled Aliss: there was always plenty to do, in the kitchen or the garden or thick thorn-filled forest all around. She was free to wander, work, and learn without fear, for Granny taught her well what dangers to avoid around the house and enslaved a powerful spirit to keep watch over Aliss when she was abroad (allegedly). The girl picked up a few tricks from her aunties, too.

Eventually, of course, a mob of enraged villagers arrived to burn their cottage down, and Aliss knew – for Granny had long prepared her for this day – that it was time to leave the nest. Lacking any better ideas, she followed the cryptic advice of the old letter she'd been swaddled with... and headed West...

Link To Character Sheet
Link To Rolled Stats

Last edited by secretID; Jan 10th, 2023 at 03:22 PM.
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Old Jan 23rd, 2023, 02:32 AM
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ElderOblex ElderOblex is online now
E X • N O X • L U X
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EO's 3rd PC
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666-BAD GIRL by Leonidas Sun
Name: Clethrid Wheatgrave
Race: Human (Variant)
Class: Warlock
Background: Archaeologist
Trait: I like taking notes and sketches of stuff I encounter in my travels, and have zero sense of urgency.
Trait: I don't like being the center of attention, and don't like hearing the sound of my own voice.
Ideal: Resilience. Whatever doesn't kill me makes me stronger, and even death may die…
Bond: I have endless wrath stored up for those who would harm the innocent.
Flaw: At the end of the day, the only person I can trust isn't even myself.

Backstory: The untimely and inexplicable disappearance of Clarice Wheatgrave was the final stroke that cemented her shy, soft-spoken twin sister Clethrid's role as village outcast. They didn't have parents, so that was already strange enough; now this?

It didn't take long for Clethrid's neighbors to blame her for any ill luck in the small town. A meager catch. Stillborn livestock. More missing youths. So the townsfolk decided one night to appease their false gods by pushing the poor girl down a cliff to fall into the cold, cold sea.

Two days later, not only did Clethrid survive this traumatic event, she also found that she had strange new… abilities.

Leaving her old life and a burning village behind, Clethrid sought a fresh start at life West, in the Marches.

Link To Character Sheet
Rolled Stats: 10, 7, 14, 16, 9, 15
"The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death."

Status: Stable. ish.

Last edited by secretID; Jan 23rd, 2023 at 07:16 AM.
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Old Feb 3rd, 2023, 09:08 PM
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Flea Bhagg, The Facetious
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Race: Custom Lineage (Gnoll)
Class: Cleric
Background: Sage+Archeologist
Description: If Gnagg Nar was a picture of an undead gnoll reformed from his savage ways, Flea Bhagg seemed to be quite different. While he didn't just simply try to eat the next human he came across, there was still savagery underneath his mischievous grinning maw. If anything, his jovial easy-going demeanor and loquacious vocabularizing was just as off-putting as a good-natured gnoll. Gnolls gonna gnoll.

Backstory: When Gnagg Nar suddenly left the tribe, there was a heated call for hunting the renegade and executing his immediate kin on the spot. Flea Bhagg was among those who called for this, though he himself was technically a cousin (on the 3rd mother's side). One fateful night however the feral gnoll was visited by the Lord of Hounds in a dream, and one could say that his eyes were opened to the Light.

Weeks later, Flea Bhagg himself left his tribe in search of esoteric knowledge. Before he found scrolls and magic to be filthy implements of the soft-skin races. Now he found them fun and interesting. After raiding an abandoned wizard's hut and finding a collection of tomes, writings, and implements, Flea Bhagg was hooked.

Eventually the self-taught spellcaster made his way to this exciting place called Westhaven where he could pursue even more learning!


Last edited by secretID; Feb 4th, 2023 at 08:18 PM.
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Old Feb 6th, 2023, 03:59 PM
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Application StatusAfter fixing his stat order and adding his character sheet, I believe Ket is complete.

KetName: Ket
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Class: Rogue
Race: VGMGoblin
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Stat Rolls

Description: At 4' tall and 42 pounds, Ket is fairly small by conventional standards. However, amongst smaller races, he's actually rather tall (and that's the part that he likes to focus on). Ket's apparel typically consists of dark leather and a dark brown cloth robe with a hood to help hide his features.

Background: Highway Robber (Pirate Variant)
You spent your youth under the sway of bandits, ruthless cutthroats who taught you how to survive in a world of beasts and savages. You've indulged in larceny on many trade routes and sent more than one deserving soul to an early grave. Fear and bloodshed are no strangers to you, and you've garnered a somewhat unsavory reputation in many a small town.

Personality Trait: I don’t pay attention to the risks, never tell me the odds.
Flaw: If there’s a plan ill forget it. If I don’t forget it, I will ignore it.
Ideal: Greed I am only in it for money and fame. (Neutral)
Bond: I was cheated out of my fair share of the profits, and I want to get my due.

Ket was born into and raised by the Red Claw tribe. They were a prominent goblinoid tribe that had built a bit of a reputation for ransacking caravans along the roads of the Moonsea. Despite the vast riches that they had taken over several years of hard (and often dangerous) work, they had little to show for it. The majority of their loot was slated for their warlord, Hashrad (a hobgoblin marshal), and his lieutenants. The scraps that his small tribe was allowed to keep were mostly distributed among the strongest warriors with the occasional silver coins thrown around to the rest in order to keep them hungry but not starving.

Never knowing any different, Ket had no qualms with his lot in life. Instead of being resentful, he simply learned to become more ambitious. He wanted to prove that he was capable of becoming the fiercest warrior among them. He didn't just want to be the strongest among his clan, he wanted to be recognized as one of the greatest in the entire Red Claw tribe. He knew that, as a goblin, he could never hold a high-level position within the tribe. However, there was the possibility of being selected as one of the warlord's personal guards. A title like that would mean fame, riches, and cozy living until he died or they found someone better.

His last assignment with his clan started off in the same routine as so many before it. Orders came down from Hashrad to ransack a merchant caravan. The killing of guards was encouraged, as usual, but "the fancy-looking elf in his fancy-looking chariot" was not to be harmed. If he had to be kept in line, as minimal of injury as possible was to befall him. The rumor floating around camp was that the fancy-looking elf was some sort of jewelry merchant that did regular business in the area. He had been paying Hashrad the standard fee for "protection" but had apparently decided that his gold would be better spent on his own personal security. Apparently, their warlord wanted a clear message sent that this would simply not do. Everyone knew that this was Red Claw territory and such dissent was bad for business.

As their hunting party engaged the caravan, they were quickly overwhelmed. The merchant's private guards were far better equipped and better trained than the goblins. Ket watched in horror as his kinfolk were torn apart by large men in heavy armor, wielding magnificent longswords. He knew that he was going to die, just like the rest of them but he was at least going to go down fighting.

Rushing towards the men, with a sword in each hand, he followed Rhaenyra (a close friend of his and a fierce warrior) into the battle. Suddenly, Rhaenyra stopped dead in his tracks and turned to look back at his friend. The shaft of a heavy crossbow jutted from his chest. Instinctively, Ket embraced his friend and, almost simultaneously, was rewarded with his own bolt to the thigh. Together, they fell into the mud with Rhaenyra on top of the smaller warrior.

Waking up hours later, Ket shoved his dead friend off of himself and looked around at the carnage left behind. The only bodies left were his clansmen and a few horses. He was in bad shape and had lost a lot of blood but he was grateful to be alive. Looking around, he shook his head in disgust We were nothing but cannon fodder! After tying a strip of cloth around his thigh, he gathered up a few supplies and started limping down the supply road. "Forget this! I'm going independent!"
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Last edited by secretID; Feb 12th, 2023 at 10:33 PM.
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Old Feb 13th, 2023, 02:23 PM
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Application v1.0
Kalliópē (Bard - Level 1)
Name: Kalliópē
Race: Astral Elf (Spelljammer)
Class: Bard (PHB)


A beautiful female elf stands before you, her ethereal aura captivating and mesmerizing. With silvery-blue hair cascading down her back in waves and golden, almond-shaped eyes that shimmer like stars, she embodies grace and beauty. Her slender, lithe figure is adorned in flowing robes of celestial blue over what appears to be a dress of white silk, and a lyre hangs from a strap across her shoulder.

She wears soft leather boots, and a belt appears to have a few small pouches. A pair of claves (wooden percussion sticks) hang from a strap as well. She carries no visible weapons or additional bags.
Background: Astral Drifter (Spelljammer)
For longer than you can remember, you have traversed the Astral Sea. There, you experienced firsthand the wonders of the Silver Void: you stopped aging and no longer felt hunger or thirst. Driven by wanderlust, you drifted from one part of the Astral Sea to another, like a mote of dust on the wind. You have lost count of the decades that have passed since you arrived here. In your travels, you have camped on the petrified hulks of dead gods and narrowly escaped the psychic winds that sweep across the Astral Sea while also avoiding prolonged contact with the plane’s most dangerous denizens.
An exile from Xaryndar in Xaryxispace, Kalliópē has rejected the genocidal ways of the Xaryxian Empire and eschews their haughty traditions. She has spent most of her long life wandering the Astral Sea travelling the mists and learning her craft from those she meets.

Personality Trait 1: - I have a song, tune or ditty for every occasion.
Personality Trait 2: - Exquisitely alluring with a whimsical nonchalance.
Ideal: - To be good enough to be able to perform before Corellon.
Bond: - She owes a promise to Corellon.
Flaw: - She does not understand time.. a day is to an hour as a second is to a year. “Meet tomorrow” is therefore meaningless.

Kalliópē floated in the darkness.

It was a mistake to think they could have escaped. The captain of The Osprey had navigated the Shrike Spelljammer out of the mists of the Silver Void into an unknown Wildspace in a desperate attempt to escape, but The Horror had unerringly followed them.

Twenty-four hours had passed since then, and the ship’s wreckage was long lost in the darkness. The captain had applied the ABCD (Air Bubble Crisis Device) to her and cast her adrift, saving her life. As she floated away from the doomed Spelljammer, she watched as it was obliterated by the monstrous ship-sized entity. Her friends, crew, and possessions—everything was gone.

As time passed, she knew her air would eventually fade, and then the vacuum of this hostile Wildspace would kill her. In the emptiness, she began to sing, her voice a mournful tribute to the recently fallen and a celebration of what could have been. She sang to the Elven gods of old and the mysteries of the multiverse that she had not yet uncovered. As the air bubble failed and her breath started to labor, she continued to sing, offering her final performance to the stars themselves.

And in the darkness, something heard her, saw her, and listened closely. A star grew, a fragment of Corellon, to gaze upon the dying elf. Moved by the music, it asked what she would offer for her life. To which she offered all she had—the “Promise of a Song”—for she no longer had the breath to actually sing one.

Corellon cradled her in his hand, protecting her from the harsh vacuum, and infused her with his light. Reminding her of the promise, a tear in the darkness appeared, an opening that looked down onto the floor of an inn below.
RPGX Character Sheet Link
Stats Rolls: 11 13 15 15 12 17

DnDBeyond Sheet
Sold most items (yes, even her armour).
I do not have any artwork atm, or hosting ability. Working on that.

Last edited by secretID; Feb 13th, 2023 at 06:41 PM.
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Old Feb 16th, 2023, 06:28 PM
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Avaelyn needs approval
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Background: Acolyte

Avaelyn was found as a toddler by a priest of Il-Mater. He'd been hiding amongst the bushes near a scene of senseless slaughter along the trade way just south of Daggersford. A small group of pilgrims (Avaelyn's parents presumably among them) had been set upon by a goblin raiding party and the young Aasimar had managed to hide himself while the others were overwhelmed. The Priest, Hodges by name, had taken Avaelyn back to his Temple secluded in the unnamed hills at the Northwestern tip of the Misty Forest, near the mouth of the Delimbryr River. It was a very remote place for a temple, but this one was dedicated to Il-Mater who's teachings were rather unpopular amongst city dwellers.

It was here that Avaelyn had begun being groomed as a paladin. The young Aasimar had taken immediately to the martial weapons training, especially the sword. He'd embraced, even more, the teachings of Il-Mater. That there should be a finite amount of suffering in the world was a pleasing concept to the young Aasimar. He soon determined that whatever suffering he couldn't take on himself, he would impart to the enemies of his god.

A strange thing happened though, as Avaelyn grew into adolescence. For one thing, his piety began to make most of the other priests feel threatened as their displays of abstinence and suffering were only that - displays. He sent Demetrius, a powerful Solar in his service, to Avaelyn to present him with an offer of power in view of all. Strangely, the Aasimar refused the gift on a temporary basis, telling Demetrius that he must spend more time in service, prayer, and contemplation before he felt worthy enough to accept (setting it up to dual-class into warlock). As an eternal being, the solar was happy enough to wait a few years to welcome such a worthy servant into his fold.

Hodges saved the Aasimar's life yet again, hustling him out of the temple just ahead of a plot by the church's hierarchy to execute him under false charges. Avaelyn hadn't understood their jealousy and fear of being exposed as hypocrites so far outweighed their dedication to the god they purportedly served. Luckily, Hodges had realized what was happening in time to get Avaelyn safely out of the temple.

Since then, Avaelyn has roamed the Sword Coast seeking to ease the suffering of the good and innocent. He has done this by taking on some of the suffering himself, but also by heaping it on the shoulders of the evil. He has had few companions in the past years, and those fleeting. The lifestyle Avaelyn insists upon for himself is not easily stomached by most. He's learned to make a few concessions in his judgement of others, realizing that not all pay homage to Il-Mater - yet greed and excessive comfort still sickens him.

Ability Rolls:

Last edited by secretID; Feb 16th, 2023 at 08:45 PM.
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Old Feb 17th, 2023, 01:54 AM
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’Belated’ Bill Bramblebough
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Bill earned his nickname long before deciding to become a wizard on his 90th name day. It was his long before he was a widower, a grandfather, a farmer, a father, a husband, or even a man. It was not an ironic appellation, well-deserved in fact, and had always followed the tardy halfling. Bill might always be late if left to his own devices, but he always showed up, much to his credit; enough so that people overlooked his tardiness.

With his wife resting in Green Fields, and his children with families of their own, Bill made his fateful decision seemingly on a whim. While people certainly thought he might have gone a little off his rocker without his wife to keep him company, or perhaps been going through a midlife crisis, few doubted he could actually do it. Bill had always gotten away with being late by compensating for it with hard work, and smart work.

Having settled his affairs and said his goodbyes, Bill has come to the West Marches in search of his new life, filled with new challenges and new friends.

OOCAbility score rolls


Originality is the fine art of remembering what you hear but forgetting where you heard it. - Laurence J. Peter

Last edited by secretID; Feb 17th, 2023 at 10:40 AM.
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Old Feb 17th, 2023, 08:34 PM
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Ignatius Ignatius
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Ignatius Ignatius, or Benedict-Ignatius-Goliath-Dragonslayer-Ignatius-Crimson-Koalhan to give it its full name, was created by a lonely gladiator in the pits of Bloodfall. The gladiator, who was new to the arena, was looking for someone to talk to and to chase away the grimness of a life of battle.
But the gnome whom the gladiator enlisted to carve the magic runes that give a warforged life may, have carved too deep when asked to make the mechanoid 'talkative'. As it sprang to life, it became quickly apparent that the Ignatius Ignatius had a mouth that could, and would, run nonstop.

“Hi there Carrot top! What’s your name?…Hey wait! What’s my name?”
“I’m Sir Brightspark II, or Brighty. And you my dear friend, well…what do you want to be called?”
“Oh jeez?! I don’t even have a name?! Well wrap me up and leave me on step of the church cos no-one is loving me! Ha Ha! I’m kidding! Call me Benedict-Ignatius-Goliath-Dragonslayer-Ignatius-Crimson-Koalhand!!”
“Good sir! You can’t be called that!”
“Why not?”
“Well it spells…It spells big…The first letter of each name spells...It spells a not very nice thing. It’s not proper!”
“Oh jeez. What’s up your butt? You been sitting on that glaive? Fine! call me Ignatius Ignatius. That was my favourite bit….Both times.”
Brighty was having second thoughts about his decision. Perhaps, it was better to be alone.
“Hey! Let’s go for a walk! You know, I’m only 3 minutes old. I’d like to live a little! Ha ha!”
“Right you are. Indeed. Let's be off then, Ignatius.”
“No. Say it properly.” The warforged crossed it’s arms in defiance.
“ Let's be off, Ignatius...Ignatius…” sighed Brighty.
“Thank you!” Huffed the diva warforged as it strutted off.

Needless to say, the gladiator soon grew tired of Ignatius Ignatius' company and it's somewhat grating personality. He was a very mild mannered chap, and champion of The Light in fact, but one day he snapped. Thus Ignatius Ignatius fled from Bloodfall in the dark of night to seek its fortune. Not being an actual gladiator or slave, it wasn't really necessary to sneak away, but Ignatius Ignatius saw it fitting...and its delightful dramaticness a vital requirement to the beginning of its new life.
I have taken the Oath of Sangus!

Last edited by secretID; Feb 19th, 2023 at 05:59 AM.
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