DnD5e Chronicles of Qorum: The Darkening of Argrea - Page 5 - RPG Crossing
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  #61  
Old 03-20-2020, 04:08 PM
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Good job on characters so far, everyone, and thanks for your interest.

Nice work finishing up so fast, Colors. I like Marcia. Where's her sheet though?

I've gotten the forum and have begun considering which characters I will select for the game...

One thing that would make it easier is if you all posted a little in character blurb after this post to show you still actively want to be in the game. A scene from your character's past, from before the liberation of Agaleth, preferably some kind of defining moment which set them on the path to become the heroic resistance fighters who fought in the liberation of the city...

If it goes how I think, only a number of you will post, and then I won't have to decide between you, plus I'll have an even better idea of who your characters are... If all of you post, this better idea of who your characters are and the additional sample of your writing, will help me make the final decisions...

Let's go!

Last edited by Alugar Meldris; 03-20-2020 at 04:11 PM.
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  #62  
Old 03-20-2020, 05:19 PM
ColorsOfTheHeart ColorsOfTheHeart is online now
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Oh! I forgot about a sheet. I'll work on that and the character blurb when I get home from work tonight. I don't have time to get it done now.
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  #63  
Old 03-20-2020, 05:26 PM
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Fjorgiir the Skald
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Fjorgiir found himself lying prone in the snow, unable to remember how exactly he had escaped the chamber of the Well of Deep Knowledge. His mind felt slow and numb, unable to give him the answers he required. His body was in no better shape. His limbs felt as heavy as boulders, his muscles burned as if his blood had caught fire and he had the taste of blood in his mouth. It took great effort but the half-giant managed to turn on his back. Zanathar, usually a source of hope, warmth and comfort, seemed distant and uncaring to Fjorgiir‘s eyes, his light unable to dissolve the darkness and sorrow in his heart.

The Ferrungar closed his eyes and thought about giving up, letting the cold stop his pumping heart and the snow cover his aching body. It would be so easy to join those who had fallen before the Elderwyrm. His father, the great nynphar Ferr Gwandar, his mother, Brynhilde, the most loving and wise person he knew, the skalds who had given their lives to protect the sacred Well, the many Ferrungar and human loyal subjects of Snorrvaldir, all these brave defenders had been unable to best the undead dragon Sedraal, who had in one day turned Fjorgiir‘s world upside down.

There is no hope. The land is lost, the Well has been desecrated, evil has prevailed. I can do nothing but join the ones I love and respect. This is the end.

The story of Fjorgiir the Ferrungar, last skald of Skergaldr, would have ended that day had not something inside him spoken up, rebelled against his desire to surrender.

It is not the dark Wyrm that spared your life, Fjorgiir. It is nothing less than the will of Aunumar. You have no right to disregard it. Get up and make a difference!

And so it was that the half-giant chose to live. He forced his battered limbs to carry his weight and carry him away, found food and shelter, used his knowledge and magic to heal the wounds of his body and hoped that even the wounds of his soul would in time heal. Unable to face the bloodthirsty warriors of the lich king, Radavos Vaal, and knowing that the true master of the undead Elderwyrm was no other than Vodogan Valakarus, spawn of Vitro Kin Sithra, the Ferrungar decided to face the puppeteer himself in Argrea instead of his puppets in Skergaldr. The story of the half-giant‘s life was destined to go on and if great Aunumar was willing, it might even have a good ending. In any case it would make a song worthy of the famed skalds of Skergaldr.
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  #64  
Old 03-20-2020, 07:09 PM
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Gilbert Dawnshield
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Let them celebrate. If they thought liberating a northern kingdom was a difficult task, they had scarce idea what they would be walking into once they ventured south to take more from the Dark Lord. It may be the last happy times they may have for a long, long time. Gilbert left the banquet hall out onto the balcony overlooking the city below. Far in the distance, the snow capped mountains could just be seen peaking up over the canopy of the forest. The wind whistled through the castle's crenelations and a bird swooped down to snag an insect out of the air before banking and climbing high up over the stone structure. Looking down at his shield, he traced a finger over the golden sparrow embossed on his shield and along a repaired crack a smith had fixed many years ago.

He was the last of the Golden Sparrows...both the organization and the animal. They had been a common sight before the world had succumbed to the Gloom, flying in huge flocks as they gathered before migrating, their yellow chests catching the sunlight to create a brilliant display that even a hardened warrior such as himself could appreciate. Had it really been thirty years since he had seen one? He knew it had because it had been just as long since he had seen his daughter. No matter how many people he had saved in countless battles and tactical retreats, he could never bring her back. A small drop fell from his cheek onto the balcony stones which elicitied a verbal reprimand to himself, "Ah feck, you're getting soft you old bastard."

His hand clenched tighter around his sword pommel as memories came flooding back into his mind, unbidden but completely unstoppable. Planting flowers under the sun's bright yellow light, spinning in dance around the town square to some bard's lame song or even just glancing across the table in between mouthfuls of stew. It was always her curly red locks, the one dimple on her right cheek and the glow in her eyes that he remembered, came to him in these melancholy times. Under his rough exterior, his scarred face, the chainmail and behind the Golden Sparrow shield, he fought for all the daughters who still lived, even as his had died. He fought for them all even though saving a thousand wouldn't bring back the one.

The sounds of revelry brought him back out of his own gloom. "It already owns the south and the skies...can't let it take me as well." Putting his chin high, Gilbert Dawnshield left the halls of King Heothar, and retreated back to his private quarters. They may have won a battle but there was still a war to wage.
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Last edited by tomplum; 03-22-2020 at 05:58 PM.
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  #65  
Old 03-20-2020, 07:50 PM
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So I hope it isn't too late to throw a character into the race, cause this is right up my alley. Thinking of having a character who is from Pontamar. In fact, thinking he was sent in from pontamar to help that revolution to gather support for their own cause next.


Last edited by SarcasticWaffle; 03-20-2020 at 07:58 PM.
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  #66  
Old 03-20-2020, 08:46 PM
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Name: Caladryel
Race: Wood Elf
Class: Rogue (Scout)
Description: Caladryel has a wild feel about him. While not a physically imposing man, standing average height with a wiry build to him, his dark eyes give off a savage impression. His movements flow together with purpose, his body slightly tense from always being alert of his surroundings. It isn't hard to tell that Caladryel feels more comfort in the wilds than civilization. There are many tattoos adorning his body; each one with a story to tell, an achievement of a time from his life. Caladryel tries to keep a gentle face around his comrades, but the sadness that hangs onto many resistance fighters shines from behind his eyes.

Caladryel can come off stand offish at times. He is very goal driven and moves single minded towards a goal that is far from completion. While open about much of this goal and past, it is hard to feel like Caladryel isn't just giving you half truths.
RP Sample:

Last edited by SarcasticWaffle; 03-22-2020 at 01:11 PM.
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  #67  
Old 03-20-2020, 09:01 PM
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Ohrlan
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"Yeesss, that's him. Goooo to him. Thiiisss iss where youuu beeloong." The voice, echoing in his head like rain hissing on a tin roof, left him little choice.

He had heard of this Godling, and his little war. Who in Albernia hadn't. But he had never wanted to meet him. Drawing himself to his full stature, he shook his head once, set his face in it's sternest expression, and approached him. King Heothar was talking with someone Ohrlan didn't know, but didn't like the looks of. Reaching up, he tugged at the waistline of King Heothar's armor. As the Assimar Lord looked down, Ohrlan began speaking urgently.

"Sir, Lord, King, My Lady sends me to you. She says you need me, need me. Says so most emphatically. I have left my books to help you, because She says I must help you. Let me help you. Please."

Heothar looked down at the small, unkempt, half-man." Your Lady you say? Sends you to me? How could you help me?"

Thinking quickly Ohrlan looked over at the small group of people gathered around a Priest, asking for comfort. Reaching into his mind he called forth a short torrent of words, harsh words, rough on the tongue. A boy at the outer edge of the group looked towards him. "You boy, come here." he said in common.

The boy, no more than 14 years old, seemed to struggle briefly, and then walked over and stood before him. Ohrlan let his eyes roll back into his head.

"Your name is Unthar Gunterssun." The boy looked startled for a moment. "Your father was Gunter Olafssun, your mother Helga Freyasdottir. They were taken away a year ago, arrested for some reason you have never been told. No one has seen them since. You have joined King Heothar in the hopes that when this is over you might find them hidden away in some dungeon."


Letting his eyes roll back to normal, he smiled at the boy, who looked back at him in awe. "Go, son, gain yon Priest's blessing, and add to it my own." Reaching around to his back he pulled out his long forgotten quarterstaff, hand carved and covered with strange burned-in Runes. "Take this, as I no longer need it, but I see a time when you may."

Unthar took the staff, and wandered off dazedly towards the Priest.

Looking up, Ohrlan smiled at Heothar. "What do you think, think? Can I help you?"


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Last edited by KarlCullinane; 03-20-2020 at 09:06 PM.
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  #68  
Old 03-20-2020, 10:54 PM
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Thyrus
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Why!?, why!? WHY!?

Are the thoughts that pass Thyrus's mind as another volley of arrows fly at the Saint King's Army the screams of pain, terror, and courage from the many soldiers storming Agaleth's walls have Thyrus almost shedding tears of frustration as he stands idly at the side of Captain of the unit in the walls as a bodyguard of some sorts.

WHY must I be here? WHY must this be happening? ALL!!! of the terror was supposed to stop this from happening and now what I'm supposed to kill Alberians and many others for who? For Ulgaunt Kreel!? For the Night King!?

"FIRE!!!!" hears Thyrus as the Captain commands another volley of arrows to befall over the resistance troops the tiefling can feel pain in his hand from how hard he is gripping his sword disconnecting himself for a second he can hear another voice speaking to him.

Why shouldn't you kill them all of these people look down on you cause you are superior, cause of your Malecai Heritage!!!

"FIRE!!!!" the next barrage of arrows followed by magic makes Thyrus grits his teeth so hard that he feels they are gonna break while there are already some soldiers that have fixated ladders in the walls.

no!!, NO!!! they only want to have the kind of freedom that I had during Ulgaunt's tyranny, they don't want to become monsters that will senselessly serve the Night King.

The orc Captain raises his sword commanding everyone to be ready for the next barrage "Ready!!!" but Thyrus can't hear him for the first time in so many years he can feel clear of mind as a gentle voice speaks to him.

Blast!! The black ram to the Eight depths he is the reason of all of this

Then why don't you act and impart your own justice?


"AAAARRRGHH!!!"

Some archers shoot and some Mages throw fire but most of the unit is looking back at the that just had his neck slit open by Thyrus's sword abstaining him from giving his last orders and giving a chance to the climbing resistance troops to overwhelm that section of the walls a rage-filled Thyrus is swinging his sword as Kreel's troop scream and talk of his betrayal.

"I'M CUTTING THE ROOTS OF ALL THIS BLIGHT!!!!" screams Thyrus as he continues aiding the Saint King's forces in the battle for Agaleth
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Last edited by Boltz; 03-21-2020 at 02:40 AM.
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  #69  
Old 03-21-2020, 01:06 PM
ColorsOfTheHeart ColorsOfTheHeart is online now
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Alright, character sheet has been added to my app.

I decided to take a little of bit a risk and write this in a style I don't usually use. Let me know what you think.

Marcia
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Her allies didn't think much of her. She was just some nobleman's daughter who was bored and looking for something interesting. She would turn tail and run at the first sight of battle. She was only there for something pretty to look at. Since leaving her home in Whelyr, Marcia had heard it all. She didn't care about their whiny words. The more they complained about her, the sweeter it would be to show them what she was capable of. She was a Cleric of Elune, the power of the very moon herself was on her side.

Marcia had been expecting the blood, the violence. But battle was far worse than she could have ever imagined. But she pushed down the desire to run, the urge to be sick, and instead just focused on what was ahead of her. Their captain went down about ten feet in front of her. He was wounded but alive. That was about to change. Their enemy had a sword held upward, ready to deal the final blow.

Time came almost to a halt. Marcia stopped thinking. Her mace clattered to the ground as she ran forward. The noblewoman threw herself between the captain and the other man, bracing her shield with both arms. She caught the blow on the shield, numbness shot up one arm but she stayed strong. Taking one hand off the shield, she stretched it forward and called upon the power of the moon goddess. Searing light engulfed the man and he screamed as it burned away his life. The Cleric didn't even have time to register that she had just killed someone.

She crouched down, holding her shield up with one arm. The other she placed on the captain's chest. "Come on, up and at 'em, there's still too much to be done." She muttered. Her healing power washed over him, and the wound all but faded from the captain's body. The captain rose to his feet and gave Marcia a nod of respect. They continued the battle together. That man was the first of many just in that one battle that would fall to the power of Elune.

If you asked Marcia to recall the battle later, she would only be able to tell you bits and pieces. But what she does know is that they won. Afterwards she joined the other healers in saving as many lives as they could. The captain approached her as she was tightly bandaging a minor wound. He pointed to his own face, his cheek right underneath an eye. "You're bleeding." He informed her.

Marcia reached up to her own face and her hand came away with blood on it. "Oh. I don't even feel it." She said casually, as if it was a completely normal thing. Shock was one hell of a drug after all.

"You will." The captain responded before walking away.

He was right, she did feel it. But not until later, even though it was deep enough to leave a scar. Unsurprisingly, those who fought alongside her in that battle didn't complain about her presence there ever again.
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Last edited by ColorsOfTheHeart; 03-21-2020 at 01:08 PM.
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  #70  
Old 03-21-2020, 03:05 PM
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@SarcasticWaffle added you to the table and do know that Alugar is asking for an RP Sample of a defining moment that made them want to fight as part of the resistance preferably before the reconquest of Agaleth
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Last edited by Boltz; 03-21-2020 at 03:06 PM.
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  #71  
Old 03-21-2020, 03:17 PM
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@Alugar i have added to the table the ones that have made the scene that you asked for
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  #72  
Old 03-21-2020, 08:23 PM
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Boon
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"Why?" Boon questioned with a tilted head. To a mind as recently constructed as his, with almost childlike innocence, it was difficult to understand the times in which people lived. There had been some examples that he could comprehend. A starving child steals to fulfil the hunger which will otherwise see it perish. That was easy, the Warforged could connect the dots on that on. But other acts seemed senseless. His mentor had told him they were such, but still Boon hadn't quite processed the idea of actually witnessing them.

Walking through the market, Boon passed by a blacksmiths stand and took a long blade from the wall. It didn't even take that much thinking, his actions right now could not have any other purpose. "I will return this." He spoke aloud, even though the proprietor of the store was nowhere to be seen. He continued to walk to where the screams had emanated from, and the clatter of club to armour and others clashes were becoming prominent.

The lady on the floor before regarded him with fear, but Boon kept looking forward as he reached down, dragged her to her feet and allowed her to flee without further issue. A few more steps and the Warforged fighter was met with more looks. Firstly, from city guards he couldn't determine friend or foe.

Then a look of anger from the Orcs who were pillaging the village that Boon found himself in. Instinctively the blade was held ready, and one word was shared from his lips.

"Stop."

It was senseless. But Boon had the power and the duty to make it stop.
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  #73  
Old 03-22-2020, 01:51 AM
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I finished my artwork and updated my original post!

I'm not sure what a YES HERE is, I think I missed something.

I could add more if you need me to. Is there a theme or focus for this defining event?
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Last edited by OrianaOleander; 03-22-2020 at 01:54 AM.
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  #74  
Old 03-22-2020, 03:25 AM
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Oh yes Alugar wants an RP Sample or scene with your character in a defining event that made them want to join the resistance just like the bunch you see here
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  #75  
Old 03-22-2020, 12:51 PM
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I added the defining event to my application post, I hope that's okay.
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