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  #16  
Old 07-01-2019, 04:22 PM
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Dench Half-Tusk
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NAME: Dench Half-Tusk

RACE: Half-Orc

CLASS: Fighter

ALIGNMENT: CG

APPEARANCE:
Roughed up, he has quite a few scars from his misspent youth and his rough occupation. His skin is a pale yellow-green that most folk find off-putting. He has two orcish tusks but on of them is cut cleanly in half, in perfect line with a scar running from one corner of his face to the other (a gift from a paladin's sacred weapon.) His hair is black, coarse, and dreadlocked. He has some black stubble, but doesn't like to let it grow. He's big and stocky, but not as big as a full-blooded orc. He typically wears leather or furs when he's not in his full armor. He carried a greatsword strapped to his back.

BACKGROUND: Outlander

Dench was raised in an orc tribe. The only thing that kept him alive was his cunning and the ambitious drive inherited from whatever human had sired him. He never knew how he came about, though he knew he was half human since no one in the tribe would let him forget. His mother refused to tell him where he came from and eventually he stopped caring. He decided he would become tribe chief anyway. he pushed himself to train harder, fight fiercer, and be more harsh and brutal to his foes than anyone else. Until one fateful raid on a human temple.

Chauntea was supposed to be a gentle fertility and nature goddess. No one said anything about there being Paladins dedicated to her. And certainly no one said they would be at that particular temple. The plan was to run in, burn the farmer's houses, then loot the barns, livestock, and temple gold in the confusion. Maybe snag some slaves too. But there was a Paladin there. And an incredibly powerful one. As soon as the war horns sounded a Griffon appeared from nowhere and the knight flew around slashing Orc faces like it was a tedious chore. Dench's face was one of them. The orcs ran and left their fallen, as was their custom to keep the tribe "strong". Most of them were already dead, but Dench somehow survived.

He was taken into the temple with the other wounded, orc raider and human farmer alike, and nursed to health. The other orcs thought nothing of it, took the humans for fools and left to who knew where when they were released. Certainly not back to their original tribe. But something in Dench wanted to know why. When he had recovered enough to talk he asked the priestess why.
"Because all life is sacred to Chauntea," she had said.
"Foolishness," he replied. "Why would she care for the life of her enemies? It's weakness!" he protested.
She responded "If it were weakness, then you would say Chauntea was weak, yes?"
"Of course. That is why you grow food while the Orc takes it." he retorted.
"Yet you didn't take it, and my brother paladin, empowered by Chauntea's light, defeated your tribe. And spared your life. It takes greater strength, strength of heart, to be merciful."

They had many other conversations while Dench convalesced, and he thought on them. Something began to change in him. When he recovered enough to leave, he knew he could not return to his tribe. And he had nowhere else to go. So he stayed on at the temple for some time, helping with the farming to earn his keep. And his attitudes began to change. He found a joy in creating things. And he began to be remorseful for the harm he had caused others while with his tribe. Yet the urge to fight and kill still burned within him. Ironically, it was the very paladin that gave him his half-tusk and face scar that also gave him a new path in life: become a Knight-Errant.

And so Dench set out to do just that. He offered his services wherever they were needed, in exchange for enough to get by. Sometimes he fought bandits, or gnolls, or goblins (he'd always hated those little things anyway). His wanderings eventually had him linking up with a caravan of pilgrims headed to Neverwinter's Hall of Knowledge. He offered them protection along the way in exchange for food and lodging when they arrived. Now that his escort mission is over, he is looking for the next adventure.


Roleplay sample:
Dench vs the Goblins
"So Ol' Man Remus found these footprints in his fields after it rained, and they led right up to Goodman Jake's sheep pens. No idea what coulda made'em," the tavern-keeper said to Dench and his current travelling-buddy Merric Wildcloak. The Halfling was a former game-warden and could tell a creature from its tracks, even if all that was left was a washed-out, tenday old impression.

"Sounds like a Goblin. We'll go look at the tracks. See if it's a new tribe in the area or just some lost stragglers," the Halfling volunteered. Dench smirked at the idea. He hated Goblins. Always had. they were like pathetic little imitations of orcs that some god was too lazy to finish. he was glad that even after his "reformation" he still had cause to hate the wretches. "If its Goblins, we'll take care of them. I'll even throw in my services for half price," Dench added.

The pair made their way to the fields they were told of, the morning mists still hanging low and thick over the sleepy hamlet. The rains from the day before had left the earth moist and the colors of the trees and grasses vibrant and rich. It reminded Dench of the paintings of Elysium he had seen in Chauntea's temple. A world not different from this one, but more vibrant. More full of whatever it was that made places real. They came to the fields in question in a few minutes and the Halfling threw back his hood and bent low to the ground examining the footprints. "Definitely goblins," he declared. "Looks like three of them. Could be tribal gatherers, but there have only been a couple sheep taken in the last tenday they said. I'm thinking its just some stragglers from a battle, or some exiles."

"Then let's get hunting. Its been over a month since we had a fight of any kind and my blood is getting itchy for violence. I don't know how long I can keep it in before I snap," Dench replied. Merric obliged and set off following the tracks into the woods. It took them about three hours, but they finally found the encampment. Merric was correct. Only three.

"Let's try the stealth approach," the short ranger suggested. He disappeared into the woods. Dench hated this part. Because he wasn't very good at it. But he tried anyway. He
Dice * Stealth Check w/Disadvantage:
2d20kl1sh10 18, 8 (keeping 8) Total = 8
did not manage to sneak up on the goblins successfully. As he clunked toward them in his chain mail the nearest one alerted to his presence. He charged.

He took a swing with his Greatsword,
Dice To Hit Roll:
d20+4sch15cx,20 (13)+4 Total = 17
2d6+2ci1 (4, 3)+2 Total = 9


and managed to take the head off the first goblin. Just then his companion Merric let loose an arrow from the bushes, killing the second Goblin. The third, knowing he was no match, zipped off into the bushes and disappeared from sight. Dench growled and charged into the heather after it, roaring out his pent-up rage. But he couldn't find the creature. It was too quick, too small, and too green. Merric took off into the forest after it, but after a few minutes came back to Dench. "It's gone," he said. "But I don't think it'll come back to this village. We did good work here today! Cheer up!"

"I don't want to 'cheer up.' I want to kill that little piece of filth! Gaaah! Who knows where the hell it went. Probably off slinking down some muddy hole under a rock by now." he growled and then kicked a stump with a roar. Then he closed his eyes and breathed. In. Out. In. Out. Deep and slow. He centered himself, as he had been taught by the Paladin at the temple. "You are correct, Merric. We did good here. Let's go tell the farmers they're stock is safe now." With that he turned and led the way back to the village.

"Umm, Dench?" Merric said.
"Yeah?" he replied.
"The village is that way," Merric said pointing the opposite direction...


Warning: rolls have been deleted from this post.

Last edited by Jab Burrwalky; 07-12-2019 at 12:24 PM.
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  #17  
Old 07-01-2019, 06:48 PM
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Zeek Eizerspatel
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Name: Zeek Eizerspatel

Race: Gnome (rock)

Class: Wizard (aiming for School of Transmutation)

Alignment: CG

Background: Guild Artisan (Tinker's Guild). Zeek is a member of the Neverwinter Tinkerer's Guild. Most know him as a humdrum, somewhat boring gnome. But he harbors ambitions to be the greatest tinkerer the city has ever known. His study and explorations with his craft have led him towards the study of magical elements and materials. Zeek is convinced that once he has had time to experiment with such materials, he will be able to create a truly novel innovation so incredible that all gnomes will hear and be in awe of his genius! To that end, Zeek has secured a leave of absence from his guild duties (ostensibly to visit a sick relative) and is prepared to strike out in search of his glory!

Personality: I believe that anything worth doing is worth doing right. I cant help it Im a perfectionist.. Until recently, most of his associates would have described Zeek as a good-natured, assiduous, no nonsense gnome. One of his most often used phrases is "Let the gnome make the machine, not the machine make the gnome." He often scoffed at gnomes that devoted themselves to the study of illusion. "All that time spent working on things that don't exist, madness!"Yet after his recent changes, he has taken on a somewhat wild appearance. His eyes glow with an unnatural ardor. His beard has become more and more unkempt, and he mumbles incoherent phrases to himself.

Ideal: Aspiration. I work hard to be the best there is at my craft. For most of his life, Zeek worked as a respected tinkerer in Neverwinter. He dabbled somewhat in magic, though he would say "solely to augment and assist in my tinkering." His main accomplishments consisted of improving upon designs created by other gnomes, such as increasing efficacy, enhancing safety (a key feature for the non-gnomish consumer), and expunging inefficiencies.

Bond: One day I will return to my guild and prove that I am the greatest artisan of them all. All the other's thought that Zeek was a humble gnome, lacking any great ambition. They were wrong. Zeek was not simply improving on other's designs, he was learning, honing his craft, unwilling to reveal his own designs and creations until he was certain of their perfection. No half-cocked whirligigs for this tinkerer. And the more he has delved into his quest for his perfect invention, the more Zeek realized that a combination of magic and alchemy would be essential for a true innovation. He began experimenting more and more with transmutation, securing odd, dangerous scrolls and strange elixirs. No one would have expected staid, humdrum, keep to himself Zeek to be prowling around the Dock wards late at night.

Flaw: Im never satisfied with what I have I always want more. Each attempt brings him closer to his goal, but it is beginning to take its toll. Some of the more volatile chemicals have begun affecting Zeek's thinking a bit.

Appearance: Zeek has white hair, part of which is pulled through a cog into a small, fluffy topknot. His long flowing white beard reaches down below his belt, and he has a tendency to twirl it with any object currently in his hands. More recently, he is adorned by mystical shapes and symbols, the meaning of which is not clear even to Zeek himself. He carries a large backpack filled with schematics and the tools of his trade.

Roleplay sample: I've been getting back into the site after a long hiatus. Playing in two other games on this site right now, and a tabletop Demonplague campaign. Here is a post-of-the-month from a long time ago.
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  #18  
Old 07-01-2019, 08:24 PM
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Theodore Alfred Gerstein

Theodore Alfred Gerstein
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Name: Theodore Alfred Gerstein, heir to the title of Viscount of Brunsberg

Race: Human

Class: Fighter

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Appearance: a tall, thin male with dark shoulder length hair elaborately plaited in a short tail. His skin is rather pale but what draws the attention is the intensity in his hazel eyes. They regard you with a cool intensity that seems to penetrate into your soul and remind you that he is superior.

He is dressed in expensive, tailored clothing with an exquisite cloak hanging from his shoulders. At his side rests an ornate rapier.

Background: Theodore (or Theo to close family) was born the first son to the Viscount of Brunsberg. The Gerstein family owns a rather substantial plot of land close to Neverwinter, granted due to Theo's grandfather's heroic efforts fighting for the aristocracy.

Theo knows that his blood makes him better than other mere peasants and spent much of his childhood ordering them around and learning about the world, to better maintain his families place in it. His shock was palpable when his father, worried about his sons indolent behaviour, decreed that he would be sent to Neverwinter in order to train with a sword master.

It paled however to the acclimatization period Theo underwent upon arriving. His father hadn't even hired a personal trainer and he was treated in the sane manner as the other serfs in his class. Naturally they all found his reactions hilarious, constantly teasing him about his lack of life experience. After a month of tuition and unable to withstand the riling an longer, Theo stormed out of the school determined to prove that he his superiority: anything they could do so could he. A caravan escort seemed about as mundane as things could be so he signed up on the spot.


RP sample: Theo stalks along the street, eyes smouldering. He pays little attention to the other users of the thoroughfare who receive nought but an angry glare should they be too slow to deviate from his path.

Pampered was he? Incapable of the work that his blood overqualified him for? Unable to deal with discomfort? Well he'd show them. It was a simple matter of proving that he was capable of the most mundane tasks, but that his skill set meant he was wasted on them.

Angrily Theo scans the job postings, trying to ignore the filth around him. There it was: escort for a shipment of ... He lost interest in the details. Fact was, caravan escort was the sort of thing those academy oafs could handle but thought he couldn't. Melting a piece of wax onto the notice, Theo plunges his signet ring into it's mass, confirming the Gerstein's intentions to fulfil the job.


Last edited by Thunderstruck; 07-07-2019 at 03:22 PM.
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  #19  
Old 07-02-2019, 09:34 AM
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So many beautiful posts! I did not expect this kind of response.

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Last edited by Wyrom; 07-02-2019 at 09:34 AM.
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Old 07-02-2019, 10:01 AM
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Last edited by DanshiiWithWulfs; 07-11-2019 at 02:22 AM.
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Old 07-02-2019, 12:53 PM
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Zalton Turncreek is complete.
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  #22  
Old 07-02-2019, 03:15 PM
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Hi Wyrom, I will try to have something for you in the next day or so. I have a character concept, just need to see if I can work out a personality that is fun to play and not stereotypical here.

Last edited by penbeast0; 07-02-2019 at 03:16 PM.
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  #23  
Old 07-03-2019, 03:52 AM
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Posting for interest!

Quick question: How are you feeling about Half-elf subraces (aka Half-drow) from SCAG? Not sure how to link this as I'm using DnD Beyond, but thy basically forgo the Skill Versatility trait for base drow magic.
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Last edited by Sadral; 07-03-2019 at 03:58 AM.
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Old 07-03-2019, 09:20 AM
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@Sadral That seems fine I am still looking for some information but I am far more lenient towards races than classes.

For everyone else I will update the table on the ad after work today.
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Old 07-04-2019, 07:58 AM
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Sammi
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NAME: Shuisuhliul Sseztee , known as "Sammi" for obvious reasons.

RACE: Yuan-Ti Pureblood

CLASS: Druid (Wildshape to snake forms only if that works for you -- see PM)

ALIGNMENT: Neutral

APPEARANCE: Sammi is human in appearance except for his mottled and scaly skin which gives him a bit of protection on the face, hands, top of his feet, and torso. There his skin is more noticeably yellow with black patterns. His mouth opens a bit too wide and his tongue is forked which should make him somewhat intimidating except for the constant appearance of a silly grin which his face automatically falls into and his clownish manner. Sammi, like some autistic humanoids, has no real depth of emotion but he did understand and copy "social" behavior, which in his case developed into a running stream of jokes and silly comments. Not so much bitter irony and sarcasm, his understanding of humor isn't that developed. More puns and fart jokes. He thinks it makes him fit in and be liked.

BACKGROUND: Like many human appearing Yuan-Ti, Sammi (not his given name) was looked down on and despised for being too "warmblood." Picked on and bullied, he was eventually sent as a servant to some Yuan-Ti Druid/Priests on a trading mission to human lands . . . which was wiped out by an attack before accomplishing anything. Sammi, being but an apprentice . . . but not a fool, hid from the attackers and when they left, looted what was left of the bodies and continued on. As his journey to Neverwinter completed, it was almost inevitable that he fell in with these other mismatched exiles. After all, what was there at home but kicks and scorn.

And, so, in addition to the normal run of guides and guards, those who just didn't fit into Neverwinter life gravitated to the Rockseeker posting: A mini-giant, a possibly insane warlock who hears voices, a man-snake desperate to fit in, a tiefling haunted by his past, a darkly sinister Goliath, and an orc dreaming of knight-errantry. They came to check, and double check, hoping for a job, a new opportunity, a change in their lives.

 


 


Theme Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uCPC_5j1Few

Last edited by penbeast0; 07-12-2019 at 09:46 PM.
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Old 07-05-2019, 03:27 AM
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Character Application
Name: Synn
Race: Half-elf (Half-drow variant)
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Class: Bard (Going for Lore probably. Uses a mix of music and painting/drawing to cast her spells)
Appearance:
right-aligned image
Synn stands at a height of roughly five feet and two inches tall. Her stark white hair extends to the middle of her back, curly and draping her shoulders, with a few loose strands dangling left and right of her young half-elven face.
Sporting a slender and yet toned build, her skin bears shades of light purple. Deep purple eyes stand as the most obvious hint of her heritage, along with ever so slightly pointy ears.

Personality: Synn seems to be a brash young woman who for the most part enjoys life. Grins and gallow's humor come easily to her and she can strike as quite the oddball for those who don't know her, especially when she shows up with smudges of paint all over the face. Pathologically curious, she explores the world with passion and dedication. When angered or forced to be serious however she can appear ruthless, dedicated and focused. She does everything in her power to help those close to her, and has no hesitation bringing the pain to those who would harm her or her family.

Background:

Genesis
The drow’s hidden surface battlements might have been laid to waste, the dark elves defeated, their spell broken, the storm was still raging over the moor. While his companions were taking a well-deserved rest, mending their wounds, Galrond was looking at the tiny ball of rags he had been holding for a few hours now. Cowering in that cloak, a quiet baby, covered in dark magic tattoos, was staring back at him in silence.
From what they gathered the half breed newborn was to be sacrificed to their dark goddess, used as a focus for a somber ritual, extending the duration of a curse called the Scourge that had ravaged the region for the past months. The mere thought of such a practice was enough to bring his hand into a clenching fist, but things were over now. What about the child, then ?

Would the poor thing survive this ordeal, what kind of life who she live with her heritage? A question for another time. Should she make it through the day, he'd have to give the orphan a name. Synn seemed fitting to him, a name tied to his own family. As he took that decision, he couldn't help but smile, that tiny hand wrapped up around a single of his large, callous fingers.

Difficult upbringing
Galrond, now retired, taking the child in his care as his companions kept on adventuring, eventually made a living out of his rather proficient medicinal skills. Apothecary and healer for the surrounding area, things were going rather well, all things considered.

One morning, the little family was out getting some supplies in the local town when the townsfolk threw one too many taunt at the purple-eyed child. Incidents like this happened before, as rumors against Synn's ties to the raids that shook the country years ago were still running strong.
But this time as some rotten fruit was thrown her way the kid lost her senses, manifesting innate abilities to wreathe the surrounding people in blue and purple fire, thrashing at everyone unfortunate enough to step too close. The incident caused quite the panic, people initialy believing a devil had made its way into their community. Lucky for everyone involved, the fire proved to be no more than illusions. Harmless, but to the unlearned, a proof that this demon spawn had no place amongst them. Eventually the druid managed to extricate the half elf safely, forced to call upon some of his own power to have the villagers flee. She was shaking, sweating and crying in his arms, apologizing as much as she could, scared of herself.

Some dozen years later, Synn had grown up into a woman as beautiful as ferocious. Galrond managed to channel the half drow’s temper through arcane studies, druidic practices and hard work, building themselves a little "grove" of their own on the outskirts of town. He had plenty of time to teach her a good deal about plants, herbs and various creatures that wondered the surrounding forest, both from this plane and beyond. It was at first merely a way to keep her from the despising townsfolk, yes, but she turned up to have quite a talent for learning. Books, scrolls, trinkets and baubles, nothing was out of the reach of her growing thirst for knowledge.

Loss
The first snow came early that year, just a light dusting from broken clouds that played hide-and-seek with a full moon. Synn, out to get wood, reveled in the seasonal change, enjoying the reaffirmation of the endless cycle. She was in rather high spirits when she bounded back to the small grove, shaking the snow from the thick pine branches as she picked her way in.

The campfire was burning low, the animals unusually silent, even the wind seemed not to make a sound. The kind of silence that can feel louder than a thousand thunderclaps. And dread is a strange emotion, a culmination of too-subtle clues that brings as much confusion as fear. She pushed further in the grove, moving through the rugged leather and beads that was their "door".

She remained there for a very long time, immobile in the middle of the study, watching the last wisps of heat depart from the druid's body. But if Galrond was cold, his contented smile emanated warmth. Synn fought back many tears over the next few days, but whenever she remembered that last smile, the final peace that had come over the aged man, she reminded herself that the tears were for her own loss. She buried the druid in a cairn beside the grove.
When the roads became passable again, she packed her belongings and left. The town hostile, the grove empty and silent, her life here was over.

A new life
After wandering for two years, Synn made her way to Waterdeep on the Sword Coast, believing that the massive, sprawling city would be a good way to hide into the masses.
It's on the road from Neverwinter to Waterdeep that she met wandering band of bards, minstrels and actors. A solid troupe of no less than 18 people organized around a flamboyant Halfling called Sivian.
Heading in the same direction, they traveled together and offered the half drow a new take on life. A former scholar, Sivian had grown tired of dusty books and stern magisters. He was now seeking knowledge through stories, rumors, tales and myths, experiencing things by himself and making his own legend.
It's a way of living that he eventually passed on to Synn as she decided, after reaching Thornhold, to integrate the company. It wasn’t like she had a home to go back to, and this was the friendliest encounter she has had in her entire life.

A few peaceful months passed, travelling, performing, learning violin and various other instruments in the process.
Attacked on the road, the company had to defend themselves one day, and the half drow, who up until now had kept her abilities secret, used of the strands of her innate magic to help rout their opponents.
Sivian, versed in the arts of the arcane, having lived a hundred years of experience, did not seem overtly surprised, nor angry at her deception.

The halfling took her under his wing, teaching her how to focus her mind and magic, to put it to good use. She once again turned out to be quite the quick learner, and managed to be an efficient addition to the band as both a full-fledged bard and a protector against the dangers of the road. With perseverance, she found a way to link her abilities to her music, words and even paintings to have the weave vibrate in unison or create illusions by drawing them on paper.

Through all these travels and adventures however, the questions about her past, her very nature, her supposedly human mother never left Synn's mind. She had a notebook full of stories, sketches of monsters, researches on the underdark, but nothing about herself. For almost ten years she stayed with Sivian but never once did she give up on the idea that, one day, she'd find an answer to these questions.

When she found out that one of Galrond old companions might now be living in Phandalin, she asked for Sivian's permission to leave the band temporarily. She needed to find some answers as to where she was coming from, what led to her birth and who was part of the non drow branches of her genealogical tree. Taking to the road alone, she departed to the small city, alone once more but this time knowing she had something to go back to one day.


Roleplay Sample
Ducking barely in time for the arrow to miss her head, stealing a few strands of hair along with it, Synn rolled to the side to use an old discarded crate as cover. The rotting, fungus covered wood wouldn’t stop another projectile, but it might at the very least provide some sort of concealment.

A slight grin stretched her lips as she witnessed three of her fierce companions rushing ahead to engage the enemy in melee.
Blowing her long hair out of her face, she took a second to assess the situation: Bad! All around terrible! Close to no visibility, stuck in a long stretch of goblin infested tunnel ahead of them and retreat wasn’t an option. The rope bridge they just passed was chancy at best, and the chasm below, bottomless. Rummaging through her pack, she pulled a feather and tucked it behind her ear, ready to cast an emergency spell should someone fall.

Gathering a handful of glittering powdered gems in both hands, the half drow rose to her feet, scowling at whoever was unloading on them at the other end of the poorly lit tunnel. Bringing her cupped hands to her lips, she intoned a few verses, focusing on the weave:

"Fear not this night, You will not go astray.
Though shadows fall, still the stars find their way."


The glittering dust ignited and lifted from her hands, shaping a large cloud of flaming yet cold crushed gems soaring through the air to try and find purchase on the bodies of what she could see now as goblins, highlighting them in the darkness for her and her friends to turn the tide of this fight.
With a twist of her wrist, she took few strands from the fabric of her carefully crafted spell and diverted it towards her bow wielding friend twenty feet from her, the air around him shimmering with possibilities, providing some modicum of assurance.

MechanicsMovement: 10 feet to the left
Action: Cast Faerie Fire
Level: 1st Casting Time: 1 Action
Range, Area: 60 ft (20 ft Cube ) Components: V
Duration: 1 Minute (C) School: Evocation
ATTACK, SAVE: Dex Save

Each object in a 20-foot cube within range is outlined in blue, green, or violet light (your choice). Any creature in the area when the spell is cast is also outlined in light if it fails a Dexterity saving throw. For the duration, objects and affected creatures shed dim light in a 10-foot radius. Any attack roll against an affected creature or object has advantage if the attacker can see it, and the affected creature or object can't benefit from being invisible.
Faerie Fire lvl 1 (20 ft square centered on Goblin Archer #2, Dex Save DC 14)
Bonus Action: D6 Bardic Inspiration for Bob the Ranger
Reaction: (Optional) Should someone fall in the chasm, cast Feather Fall
Level: 1st Casting Time: 1 Reaction
Range, Area: 60 ft Components: V, M*
Duration: 1 Minute (C) School: Transmutation
ATTACK, SAVE: None

Choose up to five falling creatures within range. A falling creature's rate of descent slows to 60 feet per round until the spell ends. If the creature lands before the spell endsm it takes no falling damage and can land on its feet, and the spell ends for that creature.

*A small feather or a piece of down
Feather Fall lvl 1


This is a completely made up combat-type post for the purpose of this app'. If you need RP samples from actual RP posts, this thread contains a few of them as Aerinn.


 
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Last edited by Sadral; 07-05-2019 at 11:59 AM.
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  #27  
Old 07-05-2019, 09:37 AM
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Wyrom Wyrom is offline
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@thunderstruck what race is your character?

Took a break for a day or so to enjoy America day but back at it and love seeing this thread fill up. That said I am moving the closing day for applications to next Friday (the 12th) so I can take the weekend for reviews. Not a big change but wanted to keep everyone updated.
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Current Game:Troubles in Tarn & Running Storm King's Thunder
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  #28  
Old 07-05-2019, 02:06 PM
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Jab Burrwalky Jab Burrwalky is offline
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I added an incomplete Character Sheet to my application and filled out a Roleplay Sample with an original sample. I can finish up the character sheet if you would like and if not, consider my application COMPLETE!

Thanks for running the game!
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Old 07-06-2019, 11:52 AM
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Daendil Daendil is online now
Bladesinger
 
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Disclaimer: I'm very rusty and I'm not very well versed in the FR world. This is a character I created for another game, but never had the chance to play.
I'm on vacation and I only return on the 12th, so bear with me pls.
This is the copy pasted character.
Edit: I already actualized her bg for this game.

mobile friendly frame :)
right-aligned image

Name: Kestrel (Adrienna-Lenndastriel-Beredeth, 'Lenna')
Race: Half-Elf
Class: (dex based, two weapon) Barbarian
Background: Outlander
Age: 24
Gender: Female
Alignment: N
Description: (larger picture)
Lenna looks more or less like a human girl in their early twenties, only her slightly pointy ears hinting at her elven heritage. Her otherwise delicate features are offset by her fierce, almost rude behavior. Her shining bright blue eyes make most men turn their head. She keeps her long wavy hazel hair clamped to a ponytail, and she often uses a streak of black war paint over her eyes.

Personality Traits:
  • I place no stock in wealthy or well-mannered folk. Money and manners won’t save you from a hungry owlbear.
  • I’m driven by a wanderlust that led me away from home.
Ideal: Glory. I must earn glory in battle, for myself and my clan.
Bond: An injury to the unspoiled wilderness of my home is an injury to me. (OOC: Really, these options are just silly...)
Flaw: Violence is my answer to almost any challenge.
Bio:
Lenna was born in Gildenglade to where her moon elf mother retreated after her human father had abandoned them. Her once outgoing and open mother became secluded and bitter after what she experienced as the betrayal of her human love. Subconsciously she planted the importance of protecting their homeland and themselves from strangers deep into her daughter. As Lenna grew she aspired to become one of the city's scout-guards. But the meticulous style of elven martial arts didn't fit well with her hot blooded soul. While her body and strength quickly outgrew that of her elven peers, her motions remained clumsy and crude in comparison. Until one day driven from despair and the mocking smile of her practice partner and rival, something snapped inside her. Letting out a girlish grunt she lunged at her opponent, disregarding the graceful motions of blade dance, crashing both her daggers against the defending scimitar pushing it out of the way, planting her elbow into the face of her foe, knocking her out with a fierce grin...
It was then that she learned that her path was different. (Besides, the master instructor wasn't too fond of this triumph, expelling Lenna from the group of would-be guards.)
There were reports of a half-orc skulking in the area that even had a bounty on his head in the town of Nonthal. Lenna left her home to take up the challenge of defending her city from a dangerous criminal. A few weeks later she marched into Nonthal with the bound half-orc as the proudest girl in the world. She gained the attention of one of the recruiters of an aspiring local trading company and she signed up for the group. After weeks and months of escorting a shipment promising wealth for the owners of the company and a long term occupation for Lenna and her fellow caravan guards business failed to match the expectations and the company disbanded. Kestrel found herself in Neverwinter without food or shelter, but with an opportunity of employment in the only profession she has ever had.

Saying goodbye- "So it's true, you're leaving."
Lenna smiled before turning back. Kalion used to be her best friend. The two grew up together playing for hours and days in the surrounding forest. But while she was already an adult woman, he was still a kid.
- "I have no reason to stay." - she replied. Kalion directed his gaze at the ground. That hurt. Then he looked up with a bittersweet smile: - "You know, I'm still the older between us."
Lenna returned the smile. They grew distant over the last few years. He was still chasing squirrels and playing with wooden swords while she had grownup duties to fulfill. Suddenly she realized how much she missed his company.
- "I made this for you." - the boy revealed a wooden bird in his outstretched hand. It was a detailed work of magic and woodcraft depicting a kestrel, quite impressive in fact.
- "Master Elionne is wrong. You will be a great warrior one day!" - he added.
She palmed the gift, remembering faintly that she once told Kalion how the simple hunting of the kestrel seems way more effective than the elaborated motions of the blade dance. - "Thank you!" - she whispered, touched by the small totem. With that she turned away ready to begin her journey.
A few moments later the boy shouted after her:
- "And I will become a great wizard... And I will find you... And I will marry you!"
She only replied with a fierce laughter without even turning back. But her heart said "I'll be waiting."

Last edited by Daendil; 07-06-2019 at 03:40 PM. Reason: tweaks
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  #30  
Old 07-06-2019, 12:59 PM
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Mal Radagast Mal Radagast is offline
Just learning to lose.
 
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Definite interest! However.

2-3 is probably my maximum posts per week, and I might struggle to maintain that pace (currently balancing two jobs with a return to uni, so time management is its own game). How much of a problem might that be for you?

[EDIT] - Hughthehand! I haven't seen you since Hibernia! Hope things are going well, you old bard.
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Last edited by Mal Radagast; 07-06-2019 at 01:00 PM.
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