[D&D-5e] The Wild Beyond the Witchlight

[AlexN]

Jonas Flatbrim Name: Jonas Flatbrim Race: Human Class: Fighter Alignment: Neutral Good Background: Soldier Backstory:Jonas's parents were a step up from peasants, they were licensed burghers that lived in a large town that had a shop. They spent there hard earned money training Jonas at archery and one day, give him an opportunity to join the King's Army during peacetime, and not just as a levee that was raise quickly in wartime, a fully trained and well rounded soldier.. From there he would try to springboard to a gig to be private protection for some nobleman. Jonas certainly had the ability; he even won a few shooting competitions in his youth. He became part of the military for a ten year term as a crossbowman. He drilled and drilled just aching for the day when an actual war or combat would break out. He wanted to be used for his talents and serve his liege honorably. Like many ignorant in the human cost of war, he was eager. Eight years in his opportunity finally came. He was fresh, but had attained the rank of Sergeant in the meantime and he was ready to be battle-tested. Some sort of civil strife was going on against his lord's peer and clearly these two vassals would come to blows. War was here. He was part of the first battle group going. Although things were moving slow, they were exciting. Sure, they had pitched camp in a random field for a month before they saw the enemy but it was something different, anything could happen, Jonas was ready to be a glory hound. When his direct commander said he needed several squads of crossbowmen every Sergeant jumped at the opportunity for them and their men to be in the first clash. Sergeants who had connections got picked until it came down between his good friend Henry and Jonas. Henry, a fellow Sergeants and crossbowman begged and begged Jonas to retract his hand so that he may be chosen. Jonas, wanting to do right by Henry let his best friend get some glory before him, so he relented smiling. However he did insist that Henry put in a good word for Jonas once Henry proved to be a champion and hero on the field. The opportunity came, and it was a gruesome one at that. Everyone who went got slaughtered in a route at this minor skirmish. Henry did not come back and Jonas was horrified to learn he had been the architect of his death. To add insult to injury, the war ended as soon as it started. Known as the "Trippenfield Affair", the two vassals had fought a skirmish and after the outcome was so one-sided, their mutual Liege Lord stepped in immediately and stopped it. He did not even have the opportunity to avenge his fallen comrade. And never once fired a single shot in battle. Through the rest of his service he performed poorly and was called washed up, and a coward for having been percieved to be scared at the prospect of fighting rather than horrified he had "killed" his friend Henry. After his discharge he became a nameless alcoholic that makes his living as an mercenary escort to minor merchants. He was in between jobs when he stumbles on this carnival with a little coin in his pocket to spend. Personality: He blames himself every day for what went down. For sending Henry to his grave as well as being denied the opportunity to avenge him in battle. He has an overly serious menacing look, though he is quite friendly if interacted with, just in a stoic deadpan way. You might not know he was joking unless he forces a smile after a punchline. He is slightly unkempt but not overly so. He is too eager to prove himself in combat to people he would consider his friends and allies but he is not trigger happy, he has a compulsion to prove himself, a seemingly prideful compulsion, owing to the fact of what he lost at the carnival. Though this vulnerability would mean he would volunteer for something reckless if asked. He struggles with alcoholism, downing swigs from his glass when no one is looking. Even sometimes on duty. What he lost: Not long before the Trippenfield Affair, a couple months even. Jonas was on a typical two day leave when he heard about the carnival coming around. His wages were going to be paid in a few days, but he would be dammed if he did not get to see some of the wonders of this mystical bonanza. He, being a full grown adult, was not particularly sneaky. Jonas flipped a side of the tent and walked in. He spent a total of five grand minutes before huge carnies surrounded him. As a payment for not buying a ticket they said they drain him of his humility. After it supposedly happened he chuckled to himself that he wasn't particularly humble and that they could keep as much of it as they wanted ,even extra! Clearly whatever the ritual took from him had worked. In the events leading up to the Trippenfield affair and the ordeal himself, he was a glory hound, he wanted himself and his friends to get honors for proving themselves in battle in an unhealthy display of pride. Had Jonas not been sucked of his humility his actions would have had more nuance, and maybe it wouldn't have led to the deaths of his comrades and friend. He often thinks about what they really took from him and how things would have been different if he had just bought a ticket,. If I need to amend my application so it fits more with the setting please let me know. I also could come up with a physical tangible thing that my character has lost if I need to, I have never played or otherwise know anything about this module.

[Catsenti]

Added some more information into the first post. If you have any more questions for me, ask here and I'll add it to the first post.

[Toad`]

I should have asked this with my first post...

5e-2014 or 5e-2024?

-Grave

[Catsenti]

Originally Posted by Toad`

I should have asked this with my first post...

5e-2014 or 5e-2024?

-Grave

2014, I don't have the new books yet

[Ghrimm]

Name: Dayne
Race: Goblin (Human?)
Class: Ranger
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Background: Urchin
Personality Traits: 1. I sleep with my back to a wall or tree, with everything I own wrapped in a bundle in my arms. 2. I hide scraps of food and trinkets away in my pockets.
Ideal: Aspiration - I'm going to prove that I'm worthy of a better life. (Any)
Bond: No one else should have to endure the hardships I've been through.
Flaw: It's not stealing if I need it more than someone else.

Appearance: Even for a goblin, Dayne looks - in a word – rough. His scraggly gray hair frames a face marred by a life of battle. His yellow eyes shine, not with goblin mischief but rather with pent up anger and a great deal of distrust. One glance at Dayne and it is obvious he has had to make do with whatever he could steal or scrounge. His armor is makeshift, his weapons crude, his clothing a hodge podge of children’s cast offs, and his cloak – while still serviceable – has clearly seen better days.

Personality: Dayne has seen far too much of the darker side of man. He finds it difficult to take kindness at face value, and his trust must be hard earned. His life has made him sullen and quiet, the only time he becomes animated is when considering his revenge. At his core, though, Dayne still has a good heart. He believes that at least most people are worth saving, and he has a real soft spot for children and the downtrodden. Life on his own has left Dayne with a rather distorted sense of property rights. If he needs something, he will try and acquire it by whatever means necessary. He will pay if he can, steal if he can’t, and cajole or ask only as a last resort.

History: Dayne can remember growing up as a human child, born of human parents. His childhood was the stuff of dreams. Dayne wanted for nothing, certainly not for love. He was the only child of the local silversmith, and as such was spoiled as only an only child of a wealthy craftsman could be. And then came the night of the Witchlight carnival. It was his tenth birthday, and as his present his folks took him to this very special carnival. He remembers being dazzled by many wonderous sites – though the details of the night seem shrouded. Especially towards the end of the night when he had become so very exhausted, he has only the vaguest memory of being carried home.

When the first rays of dawn woke him, Dayne found himself not on his soft straw mattress in the cozy loft of his family home, but rather on a mattress of smelly trash in an alley behind an eating establishment. He felt sick and confused but managed to stumble out of the alley and make his way through streets that seemed both familiar and yet somehow distorted. Everything seemed out of proportion. The few souls he met moved quickly to avoid him, crossing the street, or even turning around. That was okay, Dayne knew he probably stank from the rubbish heap.

Arriving at his home Dayne found the door still barred for the night. He beat on the door until his father finally rose and answered it. But at the sight of him, his father screamed and kicked him off their stoop – calling him a ‘filthy creature’ and slamming the door. At first Dayne didn’t understand, could he be so dirty his own father didn’t recognize him? Stumbling to the water trough he splashed and rubbed at his face, then glanced down to see his reflection – only to see a green face snarling back up at him. He screamed and splashed at the water, noticing only then that his entire skin was a light shade of green.

At his shout, his father came boiling out of the house armed with one of his hammers. Dayne tried to explain it was still him, but his father wasn’t listening and swung the hammer repeatedly at him. Dayne was forced to run for his life, disappearing into another alley and cowering in the shadows.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Dayne stalked his family. He caught his mother alone and tried to tell her he was her son, but she chased him away with a broom. She had screamed that he was not her son. That her son was not a filthy goblin. In all that time he never caught site of a child, for out of fear they would not let their son out of the house.

Starving and desperate, Dayne took to scrounging through trash and even petty theft to survive. He would be caught and beaten multiple times before he learned the knack of it. But always he would return to the alley and watch his family. When they had finally had enough of his stalking, they had the local constabulary chase him, and while he escaped with his life Dayne suffered his worst beating yet. He spent days sick and feared he was dying. Part of him wanted to. Once he recovered, he returned to his family home only to find it abandoned. They had moved to get away from him.

Dayne spent the next several years searching the town, the surrounding forest, and even the closest neighboring villages for his family but they were nowhere to be found. Along the way he learned to survive by his wits and his speed, moving mostly at night and hiding during the day. Convinced that something happened at the Witchlight carnival, Dayne became obsessed with it and the fey in general. He scrounged and stole everything he could find on the subject, studying and waiting for the day when the carnival would reappear. And at last it has. Now Dayne will stop at nothing to find those responsible for stealing his life.

Hook: Dayne believes he has had his life stolen from him. Either they switched his soul with that of a goblin, or they changed him into a goblin, or maybe they just copied his memories into a goblin. He doesn’t know how or what exactly they did, only that he was denied the life he was meant to have. He knows he can’t get those years back, but while he has made a new life for himself that doesn’t mean someone shouldn’t have to pay for what was done to him.

[Snicker]

As I mentioned earlier in the thread, I was playing another WBtW game, but it died before we left the first chapter. I'm reusing my character here, if possible, because I think it's a concept with potential.

Application Source: https://twitter.com/WingBuffet/status/1100804140698083329 Name: She'd tell you if she could. Feel free to provide your own nickname.????? Race: From Van Richten's Guide to EverythingHexblood, formerly tiefling Class: I'd like to make a request, if I may! Most Bard spells require verbal components, which aligns poorly with her Lost Thing. Is it okay if I substitute verbal components with music? This would essentially add a material component requirement to all of her spells, while still retaining the restrictions and inconveniences of verbal components (attracts attention, cannot be used if silenced, etc.).Bard Alignment: Chaotic Good Lost thing: Metaphorically; she cannot express herself in words, including speech, sign language, written text, or telepathy.Voice Background: Once upon a time there lived a little tiefling girl on the streets of a big city. She did not remember her parents, if she ever had them, so she banded together with other lonely children to survive, stealing food and other necessities from careless adults. Despite their hardships, their lives had simple pleasures, and the girl's favourite was street performers. While they accepted donations, their beautiful music was available to everyone, even copperless children like her, and she wished she could grow up to be like them one day. When the girl was around ten (probably; she did not know her own age), a strange carnival came to her city. She and her friends could not afford tickets, but were adept at sneaking into places they weren't allowed. The carnival was full of strange and wondrous attractions that wooed her friends in different directions, but the girl was clever, curious, and foolish, and so slipped deeper, into restricted sections where the carnival's workers ate, rested, and entertained themselves. There, she saw them dancing to their own music - more complex, more wondrous, more magical than anything she'd seen on the city streets or that the carnival showed the public. She was so entranced that she forgot to be careful, and when discovered, was caught before she could even try to run. "Silly little screeching cricket," they told her. "You forgot to buy a ticket." "You've wandered far astray, here, too. These sights and sounds are not for you." The girl, who should not have been there in the first place, should have feigned ignorance or begged mercy, but she was too clever, curious, and foolish. "They should be for everyone!" she protested, defiant in the face of authority. "And I'll make it so! I'm going to learn your music and your magic and be just like you! That's a promise, and that's all I have to say!" It's not wise to make promises to fey, but so she did. And that was that. "A promise made and therefore bound," they told her. "Your debt repaid and purpose found." "The carnival goes round and round," they continued. "The multiverse is our playground. Nothing's free and nothing's lost. Every visit has its cost." The children regrouped in the city streets the next morning. Every one had been discovered, and every one had lost something, but the little girl had gone deeper and transgressed further than the others. She had lost more - and gained more. She had lost her words, never to speak, write, or sign again, but she felt the strange, magical music of the carnival's private sections within her. It would tear her way out if she didn't find a way to release it, and so she did. Her methods were different than the harps and pipes she'd heard that night, but her notes carried that magic nonetheless. Years later, the carnival has come again. After what she'd lost the first time, she'd be wise to stay away. But she is clever, curious, and foolish.

[AlexN]

I think I have revised the hook well enough to fit with the application request. As I understand it it is a non tangible thing in which the carnival took. In the first iteration my character lost things not related to the carnival, then I misunderstood and thought the carnival took something specific as payment like an item.

I finally think I understand where the carnival takes some sort of personality trait from the character? If I am still getting this wrong please let me know, lol. If it is something that's supposed to be more literal like lost the ability to sing or cannot sprint anymore or something like that let me know.

[Snicker]

Originally Posted by AlexN

I finally think I understand where the carnival takes some sort of personality trait from the character? If I am still getting this wrong please let me know, lol. If it is something that's supposed to be more literal like lost the ability to sing or cannot sprint anymore or something like that let me know.

I'm not sure if that has to be the case. I personally like the idea of it taking something immaterial or conceptual, because that's very "fey" to me, but I don't know if that's actually required. They could have just snatched your wallet for all I know.

[Toad`]

Eert Name: Eert; Current Identity: Quinlan Erevan Race: Changeling Class: Cleric Subclass: Trickery Domain (Tymora, Goddess of Good Fortune) Alignment: CG Background: Witchlight Hand; Carnival Companion: I'd like to work with the DM on this. Personality Trait: I live by my own set of weird and wonderful rules. Ideal: Changeability. Change is good, which is why I live by an ever-changing set of rules. Bond: The Witchlight Carnival feels like home to me. Flaw: I'm always changing my mind—well, almost always. (Current) Appearance: Human male in his early 30s. Light brown hair, dark brown eyes. Always sporting a devilish smile and wearing brightly colored robes with a cape he often flourishes. 5'8" tall and weighs about 170 lbs. Lost Thing: Eert has lost his sense of permanency and he probably doesn't even realize it yet... He views everything around him, and himself, as being in a constant state of flux and change - and that's normal to him and not at all troubling. It's also not uncommon for him to change aspects (hair color, height, complexion, and even things like gender or lineage) of his appearance on a whim. Cue roleplay as he figures out non-carnival people find this to be off-putting and odd. Backstory: Though born a changeling, Eert has always felt as if he were woven from the transient threads of fate itself. He learned early on that appearances were but masks one could wear to navigate the world’s complexities. The xenophobic and secretive society of his people meant that he was to strike out on his own if he didn't wish to abide by the most strict of rules and tenants of their oppressive culture. Little more than a teenager, he began to travel.. actually moreso wander... Okay, fine. He was a runaway. Anyways... one might believe that blind luck and chance brought him to the Witchlight Carnival. Eert questions this sometimes though... perhaps it was fate? At any rate, he was taken by the carnival and it's hands - metaphorically. Eert assumed features from the carnival itself, some of it's patrons, and perhaps some of the hands to conjure the identity and appearance of Quinlan Erevan. He followed the festival for as long as he could before he was discovered as having "snuck in" and... having no where else to go. Quinlan was unofficially adopted by the attendants of the carnival and quickly became a hand himself. Among them, he discovered skills as both a performer and mischief-maker—a jester with an uncanny knack for bending reality through deception. Amidst colorful tents and illuminated faces, Quinlan's young adulthood became tales full of laughter punctuated by moments of introspection where he pondered his identity beyond jest. Drawn to the powers of the divine by the off-handed preachings of a particular set of carnival goers, Quinlan felt a calling that transcended mere playfulness—an urge to direct his will and whimsy. He began training as a cleric in service to Tymora, Goddess of Good Fortune. Thanks to Her granted influences, Quinlan's affinity for illusions reinforced his role within Her domain; and especially the Witchlight Carnival. Faith transformed into performance, intertwining sacred ritual with jest. Energetically shifting between facades at times, he uncovered how humor held immense power over sorrow and despair. Furthermore, Quinlan found that people with an uplifted mood and an increase in good fortune were more easily exploited for his own gains. After all, a high tide fills all purses; just some more than others.

-Grave

[Toad`]

Did you have an idea when you'd be making character selections and starting the game?

I've got a project I'm working on myself and would like to avoid overlap if I can.

-Grave

[Catsenti]

Originally Posted by Toad`

Did you have an idea when you'd be making character selections and starting the game?

I've got a project I'm working on myself and would like to avoid overlap if I can.

-Grave

I'm thinking I'll leave this open for another week? Let's say 10/18. I'll add that to the first post

[Catsenti]

I'll be sending out PMs later today for everyone who's in the game. Watch out for them!

[YodaGandalf]

Name: Merla Greenbottle
Race: Lightfoot Halfling
Class: Rogue
Subclass: Assassin
Alignment: True Neutral

Personality Traits: I love naps, so if there is ever a long lull you will find me napping. I love music, so I used to love singing and you'll often find me tapping out rhythms or listening to the music around me.

Bond: My mother, Melena Greenbottle. I love her more than anyone else.

Ideal: I will do anything needed to accomplish my goal, no matter the cost.

Flaw: I hate that so many people are taller than I am, so I try to find the high ground any chance I get. Also, really tall beings frustrate me and I get easily flustered and angered by situations that require height.

Appearance: With a pixie cut of dark brown hair and fair skin, she is a stern-faced, wiry, nimble being. She is short and slim, with sharp features and piercing blue eyes.

Personality: I don't like many people, and I tend to make that obvious. I am often serious and straight-to-the-point, but I have a great (although dark) sense of humor and the sound of music always makes me smile. And after a nap, I become a very cheerful and outgoing person for a short period of time. I am not super outwardly expressive, and there are a lot of thoughts going on behind my eyes that I don't say out loud.

Backstory: I grew up in a loving family with a father and a mother, but my father died in an occupational accident when I was fairly young and my mother raised me from that point on. She was a great mother, but she got ill when I was a teenager and we struggled to afford the doctors that had to see her constantly as she battled that sickness. I learned how to sneak and steal to get food and money to help as much as I could, and before long my talent was noticed by a member of the assassin's guild, who happened to be sneaking into the same building I was. I was recruited, and the guild trained me in the art of sneaking and killing, using my nimbleness to my advantage, and creating situations that favored my stealthy nature. They paid for my mothers' doctors, and the doctors did all they could. There is no cure, and my mother is going to die. She says the only thing that makes her smile is the sound of my voice when I talk to her and sing to her. I went to this odd carnival that popped up, hoping to find something fun to bring back to her and make her laugh. Instead, my voice was taken from me. My mother cried, and I vowed to do whatever it takes to get it back.

Lost Things: My voice.

[penbeast0]

Good luck everyone!

[Remorazz]

Welp, wishing all happy gaming!