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  #16  
Old 07-09-2020, 10:12 PM
GoombaJosh GoombaJosh is online now
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Whoop! Whoop! Finished my app, feedback is much appreciated
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  #17  
Old 07-10-2020, 04:46 PM
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Tachikoma Tachikoma is offline
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Application
Name: Brevin Cobbler
Race: Human
Alignment: CN
Class: Warlock
Background: Guild Artisan (Cobbler)
Traits: I've always been good to put down hours in my craft. So my craft have changed from making boots and shoes to vanquish anyone who stand in my way for my ultimate goal. My focus keep any distractions away. So what if some might find that socially inappropriate or that "I'm not listening".
Ideal: Aspiration. I work hard to be better, stronger, wiser. (Any)
Bond: The common folk, the workers and artisans.
Flaw: I must always strive to be better, stronger and more experienced. I don't have time for menial or simple tasks, unless someone is very persuasive that it might reap greater rewards in the end. And I might still be grumpy about it.
Appearance: It shows that at one time Brevin had a good economy. Is cloak as a blue inner lining, his gloves is fine leather with sewn patterns of red thread. Is boots are sturdy and with metal linings. However that was some time ago. The colors have faded, the thread has broken and been repaired. The boots are now dusty and caked in dried mud. The once warm wool coat have now been patched with simple leather.
Personality: Brevin is consumed by a goal of vengeance. However one would never know from speaking with him the first times. A merchant at heart, he can be both charming, inquisitive and full of stories. After awhile there can be a sensation that either the line of topics in the discussion are always steered toward a certain goal or that it is for seizing up people. Learning strengths and weaknesses. And for all the stories, all the good times, very little is gleaned into the background, motivations or goals of Brevin himself.
 

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  #18  
Old 07-11-2020, 06:42 PM
Corwin Corwin is online now
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Name: Gunnar Stonehammer

Race: Mountain Dwarf

Alignment: Neutral Good

Class: Fighter

Background: Soldier

Appearance: Gunnar is 87 years old, stands 4'10", and weighs 160 pounds. He has the stout build and broad face common to mountain dwarves, brown eyes almost hidden under heavy brows, with being his most memorable feature being the thick red-brown hair and beard that hang almost to his waist. When on duty, only his face is visible; he wears a plain steel skullcap wrapped in a riveted iron band, a sleeved and belted chain-mail hauberk from neck to knees, simple gauntlets and greaves, and leather soldier's boots, all impeccably maintained. An iron warhammer is slung at his right hip, a small crossbow at his left, and his shield shows faint traces of various company insignia painted on and scraped off over his years of service.

Personality: Gunnar is quiet among strangers and slow to make friends, but those who take the time to get to know him and gain his trust find a loyal companion who never hesitates to lend a hand or do a favor. Among those he knows well, he shows a much more cheerful side of himself and a dry sense of humor. He's most comfortable when he has a clear understanding of the job in front of him and some time to plan ahead; when forced to improvise, his habit is to take the most direct route that seems to offer a solution.
Ideal: Our lot is to lay down our lives in defense of others.
Bond: Those who fight beside me are those worth dying for.
Flaw:I have little respect for anyone who is not a proven warrior.

Backstory Idea: Born in the Stonelands, Gunnar's father was dispatched to an isolated valley in the southern end of the Storm Horns when Gunnar was barely old enough to use a pick, sent to appraise an unclaimed vein of silver ore and stake it out on behalf of the clan. He grew up in the mining tradition, helping his father forge tools, sink exploratory shafts, shore up tunnels, and fire test smelting kilns. Contact with home was rare and progress in the search was even rarer, but dwarves are nothing if not patient. In the thirtieth year of the dig, the narrow vein opened up and the ore tests began producing silver in ounces and then pounds. Eager to report the success that would turn the lonely dig into a thriving mine, Gunnar's father dug past the shoring, undercutting a hidden seam of loose shale; Gunnar returned from cutting supports aboveground to find the tunnel collapsed and the only family he'd known dead under the debris.

Overcome with grief and filled with anger, the young dwarf swore never to return to the distant clan that had provided so little support. He abandoned the mine and headed south until he met the road to Proskur, hiring on with a mercenary company specializing in escorting caravans. More than forty years later, common dwarven ways are a faded memory for Gunnar. Most of his life has been spent on the roads of the westlands, taking guard work whereever he can. His most recent journey has brought him to Baldur's Gate.

Roleplay Sample Gunnar's watch was nearly over when he caught sight of shadows moving among the trees. The wagon was pulled to the side of the path, his fellow guards and the drover sleeping by it and the oxen tethered in their traces. He shook the youngsters by their shoulders, two half-elf bravos barely out of diapers by his standards, whispering "Up and nock arrows, laddies, summat comin' north of the road. I take point, you cover. Wake the human for all the good he'll be." Without waiting for an answer, he went back to scanning the trees, slowly pulling his hammer from its sling and praying that his armor wouldn't give him away.

All was still for a long moment, then shadows again shifted; he raised his right hand and signalled two far, two near and heard both the archers mutter "sighted" in response. Take their archers. On your mark, he signed back.

Bowstrings twanged behind him and he rushed the closest shadows, an arrow shattered on his shield, and two goblins rose up before him scimitars in hand. One went down under his hammer, the other came far too close with its slash, another goblin arrows sang by, and the youngsters loosed another volley deeper into the wood. Good lads, he thought as he brought his hammer around again, dropping the second goblin. Gunnar whispered "Two swords down, point clear", and the lads whispered back, "Two bows down, field clear." He froze and watched. When nothing else moved for a long while, he slung his hammer and turned back to the wagon and grinned. "Fine shooting, lads, appreciate it. O' course, whichever of ya missed your first shot owes me a drink in town."


Last edited by Corwin; 07-11-2020 at 10:53 PM.
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  #19  
Old 07-11-2020, 08:03 PM
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Treble83 Treble83 is online now
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Maggie Bell
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Race: V. Human
Gender: Female
Age: 37
Class: Rogue (Inquisitive)
Alignment: Lawful Good
Background: City Watch
Personality Traits:
I can stare down a hell hound without flinching.
I judge people by their actions, not their words.

Ideals:
Responsibility. I do what I must and obey just authority. (Lawful)

Bonds:
I'll never forget the crushing defeat my watch suffered or the enemies who dealt it.

Flaws:
I judge others harshly, and myself even more severely.
I'm quick to assume that someone is trying to fool me.

Backstory/Key Event:
I joined the Elturel City Watch when I was barely 18. At the time, it was less of a calling than the promise of steady pay and the guarantee of safe quarters to sleep in. However, I quickly came to truly believe in our cause after I saw the good that we were doing. After five years of service, my trust in my sergeant somehow blossomed into love. We got married after a year of being together. Rather than transfer me to another team, our commander saw fit to make me a sergeant over my own team of watchmen. Our life together was closer to perfection than I ever thought that I would experience. I was even considering leaving the watch to start a family.

That was until the fateful event that I had no way of knowing would undo it all. Basilisco, a red tiefling that was known to operate in the shadows of the city but also a trusted informant, gave me a "tip" about a group of bandits that were holed up in an abandoned fort near the city. I trusted the information because I believed that he was trading it for his freedom after I caught him red handed (no pun intended) with stolen documents that revealed planned troop movements in the area. I foolishly overlooked the nature of the documents, assuming that he was simply using them for monetary gain.

I took Basilisco's tip to my Commander, CPT Stonebrew, and talked him into leading a charge to clear out the fortress. It was a set up from the beginning. The fort was filled with tieflings, dretchlesser demons, and even a few barbed devilsdevils. We never found out the reason for their gathering because, somehow, they knew we were coming. They ambushed us the moment that we entered the courtyard (inside of what remained of the fort's walls). We barely managed a tactical retreat but not before I watched my husband being burned alive by a devil.

I couldn't forgive myself for what happened that day. Not only for causing my husbands death but also the deaths of so many of my companions... my friends. While I was in the infirmary, my Commander took what remained of our company along with a full compliment of mercenaries to finish off those that remained in the fort. Upon his return, CPT Stonebrew reluctantly agreed to my request to resign my position.

Now, I find myself in Baldur's Gate... Hoping for peace but preparing for the war that I know is inevitable...
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Last edited by Treble83; 07-11-2020 at 08:11 PM.
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  #20  
Old 07-11-2020, 10:46 PM
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Name: Lempira Amastacia
Race: Half-elf
Alignment: Lawful Good
Class: Fighter
Background: Faction Agent - Harper

Appearance: Lempira is lean and bronze skinned, with streaks of copper red in his otherwise black hair, and green eyes; hallmarks of his wood elf mother. He is slightly above average height, and mixes the clothes of his dual heritage: he wears a leopard pelt about his shoulders over his leather armor as a remembrance of his homeland and the life he left there- but he has become quite enamored with the Faerunian innovation of pants.

Personality: Lempira has a stringent sense of justice and a stoic disposition. Having been raised in Kultaka, Maztica, he was drilled with the ideal of cooperation and fearlessness, to lay down ones life for family and friends, and that cowardice was tantamount to the suicide of ones soul. From his mother he learned to revere nature and the Seldarine, combining his worship of Maztica's gods with that of the elves. He often feels conflict within himself of his dual nature, Maztican and Faerunian, human and elf.

Backstory Idea: In 1380 DR, Lempira's mother, a wood elf from Tethyr, sailed across the Trackless Sea to New Amn. Horrified at the Amnian treatment of the native populace, she went to New Waterdeep and joined the Harpers there in their fight for fair treatment of the native Mazticans. Five years later, Maztica disappeared from Toril as a result of the Spellplague. Lempira's mother spent her time working toward peace among the tribes and the now marooned Faerunians. One day, she fell in love with a Kultakan Jaguar Knight.

Lempira was born to them 1466 DR, and his father raised him as a warrior of Kultaka. Though the bloodthirsty gods Zaltec and Tezca were eminent in Kultaka, his father taught him to revere Qotal, the feathered serpent god of creation, freedom, and learning, and Kukul, the bereaving father of the Maztican gods, hiding in the sun and granting knowledge to the scholarly.

On the eve of his manhood, the age of fifteen, Lempira's father took him to the border of Nexal to fight the monsters of that fallen nation. Their troop of warriors were successful, but on the way home, they were beset by berserk followers of Zaltec, who captured them and took them to a hidden shrine to the war god. Bound and helpless, Lempira was forced to watch as a blood crazed priest cut the heart from his father and his compatriots. It was then that his mother found him, and cut his bonds. Together they slew the priest and cut a swathe through the cult as they escaped.

Feeling hollow in the face of such loss, Lempira did not fight his mother when she suggested they leave Kultaka for New Waterdeep, where her connections with the Harpers would allow them to rebuild their lives. Lempira took his father's Jaguar Knight uniform and macahuitl to remember him by, and joined the Harpers at his mother's suggestion. The good work filled him with meaning, and he worked hard to balance the wrongs of invader and heart-seeking natives alike.

Then, one day in 1486 DR, the grey Abeiran sky shifted to the blue skies of Toril, and Lempira's mother felt longing for the home she had left over a century ago. Though he loved his land and all its faults, Lempira loved his mother more than anything, and so he left with her for Tethyr.

It was long and hard voyage, forty days across a sea no ship in Maztica had sailed for a long time. Upon arriving in Port Kir, Tethyr, they set off immediately for Mosstone, and from there to the Wealdath Forest. His first few years were spent adjusting to life in the forest, and acclimating to the way of people in Faerun. He spent much of his time wandering Tethyr, growing fond of that country whose history was so similar to his homeland, in some ways: a country of people constantly fighting against outsiders to maintain it's freedom.

He began doing Harper work, while his mother stayed in Suldanessallar, cherishing the feel of home. He began to range wider, visiting Amn and Calimshan, and putting his all into breaking cages and spreading knowledge, and following his sense of honor as a hound follows it's nose. He was in Athkatla, Amn, when he heard the news of Elturel falling into the first layer of the Nine Hells.

Feeling it was his duty to aid those whom Zariel sought to cage, he headed north to Baldur's Gate, sending a letter to his mother and wrapping his father's Jaguar pelt about his shoulders.

Last edited by derpoet; 07-12-2020 at 12:55 AM. Reason: Originally envisioned character as a mercenary; as backstory took shape I realized Harper agent made more sense
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  #21  
Old 07-13-2020, 12:21 AM
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Impaleddearan Impaleddearan is offline
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Applications are closed for current game. Should the need arise I will look for replacement players from this page. Feel free to add your character concept.
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  #22  
Old 08-01-2020, 08:49 PM
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TADHG TADHG is online now
Descent Gaming Bradenton
 
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You already have the characters you need and closed the application. However, you said you may need replacements. Elevator pitch: half-elf warlock, sage background. Read about his patron Morgoth, in some dusty tome, and desired more knowledge. Other academics shunned him and tried to discredit him. Methos wants to prove the existence of Morgoth and bring him into his world to serve as god, conqueror, and king. To be honest, I came across mention of Avernus and wanted to try out a warlock in that campaign.

Trait: I'm convinced that people are always trying to steal my secret.

Ideal: Nothing should fetter the infinite possibility inherent in all existence.

Bond: I've been searching my whole life for the answer to a certain question.

Flaw: Unlocking an ancient mystery is worth the price of a civilization.

Some skills: Arcana, History, Investigation and Intimidation.

Weapons: Staff, Whip

Go to Spells: Dissonant Whispers, Arms of Hadar
Cantrips: Eldritch Blast, True Strike

Other: Arcane Focus is a trinket, described as a shard of obsidian that always feels warm to the touch.
Intended Patron: the Great Old One Intended Pact: Pact of the Blade.

Question: does the pact weapon have to be a blade? Can it be a whip?
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Last edited by TADHG; 08-03-2020 at 09:26 AM. Reason: Got the stats and the write up.
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  #23  
Old 08-01-2020, 09:48 PM
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Were characters selected?
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  #24  
Old 08-01-2020, 11:45 PM
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Quote:
Originally Posted by JaredSyn View Post
Were characters selected?
I'd imagine they either were, or are being selected in the upcoming week.
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  #25  
Old 08-02-2020, 07:36 PM
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Impaleddearan Impaleddearan is offline
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I did select characters. Sorry, I meant to post an update here.
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  #26  
Old 08-03-2020, 05:31 AM
TheFoxofFinch TheFoxofFinch is offline
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Name: Slip Gallowtree.
Race: Lightfoot Halfling
Alignment: CG
Class: Ranger
Background: Folk Hero
Appearance: short for a halfling, Slip stands at a modest 2”7’. A lean 37lbs hides under his darkened leathers and hooded cloak. A scar bisects his left brow, stopping at his cheek. He has grey eyes, and dark brown hair, which is plaited to keep it tidy and out the way. Long sideburns frame his haggard face, and a small but scruffy chin beard sits at the bottom of his face.
Personality: A bit of a loner, more by happenstance than wish, Slip never feels as though he will fit in, and can be a little shy. But he can be quick to smile and laugh when he feels comfortable around someone. He tends towards a grim outlook, but tries to be positive (but fails - he is optimistically pessimistic)
Backstory Idea: Born on a storm tossed night, under the hangman’s tree, his fathers body swaying above as his mother falls into labour, Slip started off his life in darkness. A darkness that would follow him, shape him, and do its best to break him.
His fathers name all but forgotten, Slip would be known by the omen of his fathers doom at his birth, eventually learning to accept it, and indeed take it as a name to shield himself from the pain.
The Halfling was a solitary figure during his youth, none of the village folk wishing their children to play with him, his very presence deemed a bad tiding, he learned to exist by himself, stalking the nearby woods and forests, hunting to feed himself and his mother.

Returning to his home in the dead of night, a brace of pheasants from a successful hunting slung over his shoulder, the coppery tang of spilled blood, the stink of fear sweat and the ripe stench of death assailed his nostrils. Creeping into the village, he found the entire population, gathered in the village square, fallen, their entrails spread about, blood seeping between every inert body. At the head of the crowd, a body he knew, tied to a stake and blindfolded, sagged against its bonds, eviscerated, it’s life blood pooling at her feet, his mother was dead.
Pushing down the fear he felt, Slip held his place and drew his short bow, waiting, a true hunter, for the beast to reveal itself. When dawn broke, and no beast with it, Slip cut down his mother’s body and buried her. With nothing but a spit and a curse for the remains of the rest of the village, he gathered his meagre belongings and left, attempting to track the beast that destroyed his kin.

Last edited by TheFoxofFinch; 08-03-2020 at 05:32 AM. Reason: Trying to add picture
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