[D&D-5e] Forgotten Realms: Dales and Daggers

[silverfeathers]

I would like to throw in an application. I am thinking a sorcerer or warlock, I haven't had much success getting them selected for games so I hope I can put together a good concept.

[LinguaManiac]

Edmund Oakes

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Mechanics Race: Human, Variant Age: 23 Class: Bard, College of Glamour or College of Knowledge (Lore). Haven’t decided which fits better. Alignment Chaotic Neutral (not the crazy kind) Background: Charlatan Personality Trait: I am always happy to see people and love spending hours talking with them about every story they’ve ever heard. I am generous (usually just to peasants) with my time and money. Ideal: Decentralization Powerful people do nothing but accrue greater benefits to themselves and abuse everyone else, and for the benefit of us all, the powerful must be humbled and the humble given – if not power, then – autonomy. (Chaotic) Bond: I grew up around the wreckage left one hundred years after The Swords of Archendale obliterated Sessrendale. These “Swords” must be discovered and exposed, if not outright killed. Flaw: I am so accustomed to lies that I have trouble ever telling the truth, or believing that others do anything but act. I enjoy the humiliation and destruction of my enemies. Personality Synthesis, Credo: Destruction is universally caused by the powerful seeking their own gratification. Our responsibility (if we have any) is to take and jape and steal as much from these muckety-mucks as we can manage. For those of us who are particularly good at that, nothing less than the wholesale destruction of these bastards will do. They have lived by exploitation and humiliation. Let’s dole it back out, and when they’re half-naked in the street with their crying kids and half-broken wife around them, we can laugh and say, ‘Yeah, well, this is where you put other people.’ Description: Edmund wears rich purples and blues, golds and reds. Anything to make him really stands out. And stand he does, at slightly over six foot tall. In conversation, he often has his serious face on, because he’s listening to whatever anyone is telling him rather intensely. But then they’ll make a joke or he’ll tell his joke and he’ll burst into laughter, throwing his head back and booming into the void.

Backgstory My great-grandmother lived until she was one-hundred and one. This would have been rather extraordinary on its own, but she also lived through the catastrophic war, a war which we in Sessrendale just call ‘The Cataclysm’. Since the catastrophe, we’ve done little but scrimp and starve. And Granny-Ola told me one-hundred and one stories as to exactly why. ‘ I left home young, traveled with the circus a while. As I’d learnt several instruments when I was young – I’ve always had a keen hand at them – I was of great use in the little ensemble they had playing all their pieces. I even wrote half-a-dozen for them. I didn’t actually learn much there – how to throw my voice, how to pick a man’s pocket, basic stuff. I mostly used them to travel and see the dales. Which I did. About this time an interesting thing struck me. See, we weren’t supposed to live in Sessrendale. I don’t mean that it’s illegal – per se – to live there. I just mean it’s not supposed to be possible. And some of that’s true. Most of the land is barren, nothing and no magic will make it grow. But bits and pieces still exist, and it was into these little slivers that my family had returned. I learnt other things too. Growing up I’d learnt that The Three Swords obliterated our home and left us scattered or dead. This was still largely true. But outside of Sessrendale, I learnt that it too had been ruled not by the disconnected communities I knew, but by a tyrant, a man who called himself The Dusk Lord. Now, don’t get me wrong – there’s nothing that comes close to excusing the destruction of a whole people and way of life. But it’s not like The Dusk Lord was a benevolent ruler. The real problem is any man who says he’s a ruler of other men. I left the circus after I’d learnt about The Dusk Lord. I thought I could do more good (and find more information) without having to deal with four other musicians, a crazy ring-master, thirteen freaks, and half a King’s menagerie of animals. Turns out, I was right. I went South into Archendale to discover what I could about that horrible place. Here I learnt another lesson: the peasants of Archendale are (almost) as innocent as we are. They didn’t want their Swords to destroy us all. Now, at first, I thought to blame them anyway. If they didn’t want it, they should have just rebelled, overthrown their masters and claimed their rights. They didn’t, of course. But then I remembered: Neither did we. I did, though, take a lot of coin from a lot of idiot highfalutin traders. While this got me in trouble at times, I learnt quite a goodly amount about intrigue: how to tell when a man is lying, how to lie to a man, how to tell him the truth in a way that he believes a lie. There are so many rather straight-forward ways to misdirect a human mind. I used these tricks in Sembia. Most of the Selgaunt traders will remember a rather good-natured troubadour and petty-trader named Augustus Goodman. He was always willing to help them out, whatever they needed. And he never asked too many questions or seemed to know too much. It was some of the best spying I’d ever managed. Tales of magic there and the one wizard I actually had to kill (the bastard discovered my identity!) have led me back North and back West, to the corner of Cormanthor forest, where I hear tale of a mythical city of Myth Drannor (see what I did there?), recently recovered by the Lord of Elion. I’m jittery during the day and sleep slightly at night. I can feel it. Here is the true beginning of my adventure!

Goals and Secrets Character Goal: He wants to take down The Swords. Knowing this is an almost impossible challenge, he first needs to become very, very powerful and very, very knowledgeable. Wealth probably wouldn’t hurt either. He’ll do almost any task which further those ends. Player Goal Like with all of my characters, I tried to put Edmund on an edge of morality. I grant that this is a bit idiosyncratic, as in its based on what I hold to morally. He wants to benefit the “little people” and sees centralization as a problem, which is to my mind much in his favor. But he also enjoys not justice but actually the humiliation and destruction of people in power. More than that, he thinks anyone with power has gained it through ill-gotten methods and yet he himself has (and will come to have) a whole lot of power. He hasn’t even noticed this is a contradiction yet. Nor has he noticed the contradiction in wanting to expose The Swords while keeping almost everything about his life a secret and behind lies. I just want to play with these ideas and see his character go through changes. Maybe he’ll turn into the villain. Maybe he will be a hero. I don’t know, but it’ll be fun to see.

[Dorack]

Formatted my application a bit, getting a hang on how the site works

[MaximumUnicorn]

Application Name: Nedra Freana a.k.a The Harlequin Race: Half-Elf (Drow Heritage variant from SCAG) Class: Bard, College of Satire Background: Entertainer Age: 28 Gender: Female Alignment: Chaotic Good Description: Nedra boasts a slender athletic build, more fitting someone who juggles and dances for living than someone who fights dragons. Though she has the dark grey skin and white hair of her mother's kind, Nedra is also smart enough to keep this hidden, usually wearing long sleeves and pants on her outfit and a ceramic white jester's mask over her face. Her outfits are usually loud and vibrant, either in color or pattern (sometimes both at once), in order to best draw in crowds and keep their eyes where she wants them to be. Personality Traits: "Nobody stays angry at me or around me for long, since I can defuse any amount of tension." Ideal: "When I perform, I make the world better than it was." It is only in recent years that Nedra has actually thought about this in depth instead of just performing for her own personal enjoyment. She now seeks to use her performance as a way to shine a brighter light on her people, as well as a way to build some sort of cultural foundations for the surface Drow to pull away from the Lloth-dominated culture of their Underdark brethren. Bond: "I idolize a hero of the old tales and measure my deeds against that person’s." Although "hero of the old tales" may not be 100% accurate considering her hero is still alive to this day. But in Nedra's eyes, there is no greater bard in the history of Toril than Storm Silverhand. Flaw: "I have trouble keeping my true feelings hidden. My sharp tongue lands me in trouble." Player Goals: As a player, what kinds of things do you want to do? What excites you most about Forgotten Realms and the Daleland area? Character Goals: I'm looking for characters who know what they want. What are your character's motivations? Bio:

[silverfeathers]

Here is my completed application. Feed back is appreciated as this a very different take on a character for me.


The Haunted Soldier
Name: Lysander Wynwraek

Race: High Elf

Class: fighter 1 / Warlock 2 (staying with Warlock here after)

Background: hermit/ soldier

Age: 367

Gender: Male

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Description: Lysander has the slender elegant elf build with strong facial features. Being a veteran of the Sessren/Archendale war he has a scar across his forehead, and two on his left cheek that draw much unwanted attention. His High Elf heritage is obvious in his coloration; black hair falls to just above his shoulders, amber eyes are piercing and often look like he is searching for your soul or staring off into space. Unable to give up on the ghosts of his past he still wears and maintains his Sessrendale leather armor under a black cloak and other dark pieces of clothing. The war left more than just bad memories and scars on Lysander he has a limp, from a poorly healed broken pelvis, that becomes more prominent as the day goes on. He leans heavily upon an old spear that he substitutes as a walking stick.

Personality Traits: I am haunted by memories of war. I can’t get the images of violence out of my head. Conscripted into the Sessrendale army as infantry when Archendale declared war on his homeland Lysander had little choice. Trained quickly in a matter of weeks to be sent to the front lines Lysander was assigned to the spearline. The battles he fought in were hard and bloody, many of them lost as Sassren was pushed back to their very doorstep of the city. In the last big battle of the war the army was nearly wiped out, only a handful of survivors back, scared and broken for the rest of their lives. Lysander has PTSD and night terrors that often wake him or send his mind into an altered state where he is awake but thinks he is back in battle.

Ideal: Meddling in the affairs of others only causes trouble. Some times that trouble can’t be avoided. Lysander has found that this is true of all things. The war he just barely survived is a prime example of Archendale sticking its fingers in Sessrendale’s business at least that is what Lysander believes. Nearly a century later Lysander still finds himself meddling in other’s affairs as he seeks information, information that should be left well enough alone. He can’t help it as he is driven by his idea of exacting some revenge on whom ever is responsible for the destruction of his homeland. The dark voice he has heard since recovering from his war wounds also encourages him to continue his hunt for knowledge and information.

Bond: I entered seclusion to hide from the ones who might still be hunting me. I’ll never forget the crushing defeat my company suffered at the hands of Archendale. Broken, with no home to return to after Archendale’s destruction of Sessrendale Lysander wandered off into the countryside drifting from town to village to city in the surrounding dales looking for work, a place to live and information about whom in Archendale was responsible for the razing of the land of his home. Lysander found little work due to his injuries and could not bring himself to settle down again. The dark voice pestering him to keep moving, keep looking for answers. Eventually fading from society for a time the former soldier lived as a hermit committing his time to learning and refining his new skills in magic that he did not have before the war. Feeling more prepared and confident in his mental state Lysander has taken to the road again to find the answer to his personal quest.

Goals Player Goals: I have not played in the Forgotten Realms or the Dalelands so I am excited to explore them through Lysander’s eyes. I am challenging myself with this character both in trying out multiclassing and his backstory and personality. I haven’t played a character with such dark/traumatic past that effects so much of his daily life and long term goals. I plan to keep Lysander a warlock for additional levels. I love story telling and role playing so I think a strong player/character driven game is good fit for me. Character Goals: Lysander’s goals are to find out who the Swords of Archendale are. Or at least who was responsible for the harsh treatment of Sessrendale after the war. Lysander wants to know what the reasoning/logic was behind destroying Sessrendale beyond recovery. Seesrendale is not habitable, he and any other survivors are homeless migrants that are not wanted by the other dales. He is a bit paranoid that Archendale may still be out hunting any Sessrendale survivors or descendants and wipe them out completely, fearing they may try to rise against Archendale again possibly aligned with other dales. Was the rumor about Sessrendale siding with powerful mages even true? Last, now being a warlock Lysander is driven to gain knowledge and expand his arcane abilities. He may still be broken but is more put together than he has ever been.

Backstory Bio: Born in the heart of Sessrendale Lysander grew up in a thriving elven community. His family ran a dry goods shop. But as Lysander grew into an adult things began to change in Sessrendale. Flour, corn, dried meat, started to become harder to stock. Prices slowly began to rise over the years, then the supply of good started to shrink. There was talk in Sessrendale that the other dales were shifting trade to other places beyond the daleland boarders. Taking the change in supplies and business in stride Lysander and his family did what they could to continue to make a living and help those in their community. Being Elves they assumed things would eventually swing back the other direction during their long lifetimes. Their community took the same attitude and continued on with life. Lysander married another elf after many years of courtship. A few decades after his marriage rumblings and accusations from Archendale began to reach Sessrendale. The dale to the south was complaining about Sessrendale’s haughty and elitist egotisms. A bickering of words, tariffs and slanderous propaganda from both dales exploded into a full out war. All able bodied individuals were enlisted into the army. Lysander was not spared. Forced to choose between enlisting, imprisonment or forced emigration Lysander took the easiest option. Lysander left his home and family with clouds of uncertainty. Sessrendale needing men trained quickly and sent off to the battle front as soon as possible. Lysander was given less than two months training before marching off with his company to the Archendale front. Lack of training made little difference once Lysander arrived at the battle. It was clear during his first action that neither side was as prepared for such a drawn out conflict. The men Lysander fought against and with stabbed, jabbed and slashed without much discretion. The fear, panic and desperation was obvious in their eyes. Sometimes even mages could be seen on the edge of the battle casting fireballs and other destructive magics onto the field of battle. Unfortunately for Sessrendale’s army, Archendale was able to outnumber them on a regular basis, eventually pushing the Sessrendale defense to the walls of the city. Lysander and his company made a valiant stand but it was too little too late. Archendale overwhelmed them with tactics, numbers and a huge presence of mages. During this final battle Lysander was cut across the head by a halberd rendering him unconscious. A voice that changed pitch, tone and clarity with every sentence spoke to him. “This is unacceptable. The balance of the plane is no more. You must go back and correct this as best you can. Go Lysander, my servant, return and preserve your homeland’s legacy. Let no one forget Sessrendale’s fate. Especially those that willed it to happen, remind them of their actions to destroy a portion of their world. They are not gods and should not act like gods.” Upon waking Lysander found himself inside a temple with a handful of other war wounded being tended to by clerics and healers. Lysander was fortunate enough to still have all four limbs. But he did escape the war without injury. Several deep cuts on his face left distinct scars on his left cheek and forehead. His pelvis had been broken and it eventually healed just not square or aligned like it should have. Still he could walk, but would tire as the day wore on and have a limp. Running or any form of fast movement came slowly. It took years before Lysander could even think about moving faster than a shuffle. Taking his leave of the temple Lysander was informed that Sessrendale was no more. The lands raided, salted, burned and no longer habitable or arable. The population of Sessrendale was forced to flea or killed. Now burdended with the knowledge that his homeland and family were gone, most likely forever, Lysander began to wander the dalelands looking for work. He could not hold onto employment for long in any place that he traveled. Between his lingering injuries and unstable mental state he would be paid for a few days to a few weeks at most before he was dismissed. Eventually Lysander faded away from society and took up living as a beggar on the roadway learning bits of information about what happened immediately after the war that he could not recall himself. The ambiguous dark voice in his head would periodically speak to him reminding him of his task to correct the imbalance of the plane. Lysander reluctantly gave into the voice and learned that the voice belonged to a being that lived beyond the planes that he could comprehend. The being taught Lysander how to channel a new gift, magic, something he hand never had before and only seen when he was on the battle field. With his new abilities Lysander found the strength to return to society and begin searching for those that been behind the destruction of his homeland and people. If nothing else he wanted to learn the final fate of his family and community. His task sounded impossible as no one knew the names, location or connections of those in Archendale that were or still are in power. Now Lysander finds himself chasing after whispers of information that could lead him to his ultimate goal.

[Inuvash255]

Thanks for all the apps, everyone! Just two more days! ^^

[Shaede]

Application Status - Submitted for Consideration

Thorpe Bradshaw Name: Thorpe Bradshaw - "Bradshaw" Race: V. Human - Male (Age 32) Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Class: Cleric - Trickery Domain Background: Faction Agent (Harpers) Personality Traits: Bradshaw has enjoyed fine food, drink, and high society among the temple’s elite. Rough living grates on him. He also sees omens in every event and action. The gods try to speak to us, we just need to listen. Ideal: Change. We must help bring about the changes that Tymora is constantly working in the world. Bradshaw devoutly follows the old belief that luck can be just as important as skill for the advancement of one's life. He believes that Tymora's will is for her followers to take up adventure and enjoy life...before your luck runs out. One should be bold, for to be bold is to live. A brave heart and a willingness to take risks beat out a carefully wrought plan nine times out of ten. Place yourself in the hands of fate and trust to your own luck. Bear and conduct yourselves as your own masters, showing your good or bad fortune as confidence in the Lady. Chase your own unique goals, and the Lady aids the chase. Without direction or goals, you soon know the embrace of Beshaba, for those on no set course are at the mercy of misfortune, which has no mercy at all. Bond: Bradshaw would die to recover the ancient Silver Coin of Tymora. It is rumored to be the coin that she flips when key decisions are made. Supposedly it would provide good luck to all who carry it. Appearance: Bradshaw is a rugged looking man. He stands about 6'-1" and has long, flowing black hair. He wears a tight beard on his face which helps hide the deep lines in his face from years of a hard life of living fast. He is usually seen in his studded leather jerkin with a cloak adorned with a silver pin. Personality: Bradshaw is generally in a good spirits and enjoys a good story. He does not talk much about himself or his past, but is engaging and persuasive to those around him. Everyone tends to think they are his best friend because he treats them as such. Little do they know, however, this is his way of finding out information. He knows that information is the key to power. History:   Thorpe Bradshaw, typically known as just Bradshaw, was born in the small community of Tasseldale. He is the son of a cartwright. He is the youngest of three children, and he had two brothers, Thomas and Terran. Life in Tegal's Mark as a young man was quiet and peaceful. Around the age of eight, each of the boys were put to work assisting their papa building carts for community. Following suit, Thorpe also helped out around the shop, however, he always had a streak of mischief. Being the youngest son, he yearned to gain the attention that Thomas, the eldest, was given from their father. It created jealousy and competition within Thorpe. He was not nearly as skilled as his other brothers, and so he was usually tasked with menial jobs such as dusting, cleaning, and organizing the shop. For years, this was his life, and as each year passed by, he longed to leave Tasseldale for other places. Occasionally, he was given enough responsibility to deliver the newbuild carts to some of the surrounding communities. Doing so, he met all sorts of people and saw many sights that were foreign to him. This helped fuel his wanderlust. However, for respect of his father, he kept his desires deep within and did not divulge them to inner longings. This caused further angst within the young man, and he turned to wine and women. When he was old enough, he frequented the Sword and Sash - a noted festhall, bawdy theatre, and taproom. His bouts of drunkenness and debauchery had him cavorting with all manner of devious folks within Tegal's Mark. He quickly gained a bad reputation, and his family started to shun his behavior. This shunning fueled his separation until it culminated in an event that would forever change his life. Around the age of 19 and after a particularly rough night of partying, Bradshaw returned to his home in the early morning hours. He had been gambling at the Sword and Sash and lost a particularly large sum of money. In fact, he had lost more money that he actually had, and his debtors were keen to collect. Unbeknownst to him, they had followed him home to collect. They confronted him at the doorstep and demanded that he pay up, but there was nothing he could do. Angered, the men placed a beating on Bradshaw and he was knocked unconscious. The men, also fueled by the fire of alcohol from the night, decided to set his house ablaze. There was nothing that Bradshaw could do, as his entire house and family were burned alive. He awoke to find that everything that he had and loved was gone. It was taken from him, and it was all his fault. Heartbroken and destroyed, Bradshaw turned back to the drink. Many of the villagers attempted to help him out of pity for his loss. No man deserved to lose his entire family after a bad night. The men were rounded up and summarily executed, however, this gave Bradshaw little solace. He drowned his grief and sorrow at the bottom of a pint glass. It was then that he met an acoloyte of Tymora who had been traveling through the Dalelands - Grarem Madz. The man saw the turmoil that Bradshaw was in, and he took it upon himself to help the young man. Night after night, they drank together. Grarem spoke of gods and luck. He spoke of Tymora and that all things are controlled by luck, whether it be good or bad. Tymora did not want people to wallow in their self pity, as that was evil working inside. No, she wanted men to find a path and in all things be thankful for the good and bad that happens while pursuing that path. This helped shape the next phase on Bradshaw's life. He understood what Grarem was preaching to him. It helped him with his grief knowing that there was a purpose to what had happened, and that it was just bad luck that his gambling resulted in the destruction of his former life. But, he then started to consider the good in what happened. He was free to pursue his own dreams and his own life. For the next eight years, he traveled around the Dalelands with Grarem. He accepted Tymora as his patron god, and Grarem taught him the ways of the deity. He learned how to create illusions, how to heal the sick, and how to hone the power of Tymora. They had a great time together constantly drinking heavily, enjoying great food, and loving beautiful women. For that was what Tymora wanted. The two clerics eventually caught the attention of the Harpers. They are a scattered network of spellcasters and spies who advocate equality and covertly oppose the abuse of power. The organization is benevolent, knowledgeable, and secretive. This was a perfect fit for the talents that Grarem and Bradshaw exhibited. They were recruited, and the two men gladly accepted a position as Watchers. As entry level agents, they were tasked with continuing their travels across the Dalelands gathering information. They frequented many a tavern and met so many people. They had a knack for weeding out truth from the rumors and lies that tended to fill people's minds. This allowed them to gain prestige and reputation within the organization. However, the time had come for the two men to separate. Grarem was summoned to Baldur's Gate for an assignment leaving Bradshaw to stay behind in the Dalelands. This panged the cleric to see his best and only friend go, but he also understood that it was Tymora's will. So, he continued his various missives and instructions from his commanders. His strength and power grew with each passing year. He loved his work, and he loved the people that he met along the way. Though, recently, his heart is pulling him in another direction. He does not know where, yet, but he is not sure if he wants to remain with the Harpers or find another path. It is time for the next phase of the cleric's life. Bradshaw's last assignment from the Harpers was to investigate rumors surrounding the rise of particularly nasty band of kobolds, and specifically the fear of a demon summoning. He had been told that a hideout existed in the wilderness between Shadowdale and Featherdale. While he was enjoying a cold ale in a tavern in Shadowdale he had heard of a group heading to Featherdale on a supply run. He decided to track their progress to witness first hand any kobold activity in the area. Quietly, from the shadows, he tracked the group maintaining a respectable distance and relying on his Pass Without a Traceinnate abilities. He witnessed their parlay with the Choppedtree Kobolds and heard about the various tribes in the surrounding woods. Bradshaw then followed the group as they found the Bonetooth's hideout. When it appeared they were to face the Bonetooths, he decided that it was time to intervene and assist. Player Goals: A sandbox! That is very exciting. Bradshaw has been a side project of mine for awhile now, but he has never really found a place in the typical campaigns. I would love to develop and play this very rarely played domain. I normally play rogues and the like, and well, a rogue cleric is very intriguing. I see him at a crossroads in his life trying to decide which way he will go next. Will he continue his duties as an Agent for the Harpers? Or will he find solace settling down in a farmhouse somewhere with a beautiful elven maiden making half-elf babies? Or, or does he take up a life of adventuring searching for the lost Coin of Tymora? There are so many places I'd like to take this character, and I think this is the perfect setting to do so. And do not fret - I am here for the long haul. Character Goals: The Harpers have engaged him to be part of their hands and feet in the Dalelands. The cleric still isn't quite sure what to make of the Harpers, however. He has enjoyed his time within the organization, but, there is a time for everything. While is he out on his own, he is exploring his options and is not entirely convinced the life of secrecy is completely for him. Roleplay Example: The Job   The night was hot and humid outside the Smiling Boar tavern. Sounds of laughter and general drunkness can be heard emanating from within. A bard must be playing a lively tune as many inside can be singing along with it. A shape, as black as the moonless night, approaches the tavern from the back alley. He nimbly jumps up on a barrel and peers into the window. Shaede, accustomed to the odd job here and there, decided the pull of the bounty for this one was too good. It is his first job killing someone, but he has come to terms with what must be done. His prey is not deer, nor hog. It is a half-orc named Ghorbash who appears to be very inebriated from what Shaede can determine. He is sitting at the table, surrounded by the rest of his crew. Ghorbash is the leader of the Seven Daggers guild which has bullied, raped, and pillaged all of Daggerfell for near on twenty years. Apparently, many people want him dead and the guild disbanded. Shaede cares little of who is paying, as long as they are paying. Also, he has a strong distaste for those who unskillfully take from others. He walks around to the back door of the Smiling Boar and sees a human open it and throw out the leavings from the trash of the kitchen. The smell is sickening, but Shaede bides his time. As the human walks back into the tavern, he walks over to the door and sticks an iron spike into the handle and door jamb. His goal is to prevent any way other way out than through the front door. Satisfied with his work, he goes back to the window to spy on his bounty. He sees that Ghorbash, a goblin, and a half elf are getting up from the table appearing to leave the building. Shaede quickly and quietly runs up the alley, across the road and sets up behind a barrel next the Merchant Tradestore. All is quiet on the road and the wind is subdued. It is a perfect night for a killing. Shaede puts his quiver against the barrel, and selects the killing arrow. He pulls his bow back and arms himself. One shot, that's all he has, so he knows it must strike true. Ghorbash and his companions stumble out of the doors, ready to continue the night. They are loud and boisterous, completely unaware of the fate that is about to befall them. Through the eerie silence of the night, a light <twang> can be heard. The goblin, laughing at Ghorbash's latest joke, looks up at his leader. His face immediately turns to shock as he sees an arrow buried deep in his skull between his eyes. Ghorbash says nothing as he falls to the ground. The half elf moves quickly and draws his scimitar at the unseen threat. He was too late, as another arrow catches him in the throat, as he collapses in a heap. The frightened goblin attempts to run down the road, but a third <twang> hits him in his hamstring, and he falls to the ground from the force of the arrow. Writhing in pain, the goblin struggles to move down the road, as a black shape approaches. Shaede has his rapier drawn, and ready to finish its' life. He walks over, slowly with an air of pure defiance and hatred. He says, "The Seven Daggers are finished. Now, never set foot here again." As he does, he takes the rapier and pierces the goblin's eye that leaves its skull with a light <pop>. The goblin screeches in horror and crawls as fast as he can away from Shaede. It looks back to see how close his attacker is and realizes the road is empty again, and the night still. Shaede is nowhere to be found. Posting Rate: Maximum: Many times per workday (M-F CST). Only once or twice on weekends; Minimum: once per day during workday, none on weekends.

[ellie]

not late not late not late

Sorry for the delay on this one, had some (benevolent, but time consuming) family stuff going on that kept me away from a proper keyboard. Hope this all looks good, feedback and criticism more than welcome!

Andraste, Wood Elf Cleric Name: Andraste Race: Wood Elf Class: Cleric (Arcane Domain) Background: Sage Age: 332 Gender: Female Alignment: Neutral Description: Andraste is small and slight, even for a wood elf, and having spent the better part of the last two centuries in libraries is paler and less athletic than many of her kin. Personality Traits: Andraste assume that everyone shares her great enthusiasm for the mysteries of the multiverse, even when they've made it very clear that they do not. She is also easily distracted by the promise of new knowledge, or the display of unfamiliar and exciting magic. Ideal: Knowledge. In particular, knowledge of the arcane, which Andraste feels reveals a deeper, more essential layer of reality. The pursuit of such knowledge is, for her, not only a worthwhile endeavour, but also a genuine pleasure. Bond: The Moon Elf Selana, Andraste's friend and mentor, to whom she owes her nascent magical abilities and her life's new purpose. It was Selana who inducted her into the cult of Mythrien Sarath. She is currently based in Silverymoon, studying the mythal there. Player Goals: I'm attracted to the character-driven nature of this campaign, particularly the special focus on character motivation: I prefer this personal, bottom-up approach to narrative and worldbuilding to any other. As a newcomer to D&D and the Forgotten Realms, I also appreciate the slightly more sheltered setting of the Dalelands, to help me get my feet wet! Mechanically I like playing flexible supporting characters, and I hope the Arcane cleric's blend of magics will suit that playstyle. It also gave me a fun jumping-off point for the character herself, and this kind of interaction between rules and roleplay is probably my favourite thing about RPGs! Character Goals: Andraste's main focus is the mastery of her newfound magics, and she seeks to develop her knowledge of the arcane to further this end. She also serves the ends of Mythrien Sarath, although she sees this more as a stimulating professional relationship than as one of deep and worshipful devotion. Bio: Andraste spent her early years roaming the High Forest with the rest of her tribe, but after a brief visit to Silverymoon in her 40s she developed an ardent passion for arcane magic. The young elf was disappointed to learn, from several well-respected mages, that she had little to no natural talent for the High Art. Still her love of the arcane remained undimmed, and as the years passed she spent more and more time with her cousins in the city, studying the history and theory of magic, if not the practice. Andraste's studies yielded little fruit, and she still struggled to replicate even the simplest cantrip, but her enthusiastic participation in Silverymoon's academic community gradually won her a modest reputation in certain circles. This lead, one moonlit night, to her meeting with a representative of Mythrien Sarath – a minor, almost forgotten Elven deity of magic. The god, she learned, had a small but dedicated following, scattered throughout the lands, working quietly to unravel some of the more esoteric secrets of the arcane - and if she chose to join them, Andraste was assured, Mythrien Sarath would reveal some of those secrets to her... She scarcely hesitated, and was initiated into the cult with little delay. Her progress was slow, but now for the first time Andraste was sure that there was progress, and after scarcely a decade of the proper study, worship, and propitiation she first felt it - the spark of the arcane stirring in her blood. Now Andraste serves both her own passion and the interests of Mythrien Sarath. Alongside her own burgeoning magical abilities, she has recently been tasked with the investigation of mythals, which the cult believes may be key to restoring some of their deity's lost power. And so, Andraste has left Silverymoon, on a research trip to the fallen Elven empire of Cormanthor...

[Dorack]

I've updated my application with a RP writting sample. I saw that is very much customary in the forum.

[Jat]

Anna Fieldhall Character Information Anna Fieldhall Audio Class: Sorcerer: Divine Soul Ebberon Race: Human Variant Age: Ten Combat Role: Spell Damage and Debuffs Background: RunawayAcolyte Alignment: Lawful With hints of EvilNeutral Personality Traits Trait: I'm haunted by memories of dreams that are not mine, and places I have never been. Bond: No Limits. Nothing should fetter the infinite possibility inherent in all existence. Ideal: No one else is going to have to endure the hardships I've been through. Flaw: My hatred of my enemies is blind and unreasoning. Who she is Appearance The Eye: The young girl resembles that of a street orphan, wearing nothing of real value with only one, often hidden, exception. The Eye is just that, a magic eye hanging on a chain. It's small sleek obsidian casing has no hinges to unlock itself, nor marks of damage or creation. Yet, it is unblinking, shifting focus from interest to interest. The Eye is also silent in all manners, offering nothing in return outside of its gaze. Most including Anna, lose themselves inside of its constantly clashing blue and purple burning iris. The Eye's only stoic trait is that when Anna is within it's view, it will focus on nothing else. It locks to her refusing to glance elsewhere. There is a connection between the pair, but the young girl has no idea what that is. Hand of Ruin: Always covered by a glove, she hides the hand underneath the dark leather. But, when revealed it is a revolting extremity. Anna's hand speaks of flame on top of unhealed burns. Anna's torture created a sight not for the weak stomach. The chaotic pattern shifts between her normal pink flesh and black char. To anyone unlucky enough to touch it. The hand burns with an icy chill leeching any living essence, except it's unfortunate owner. Personality Cold. The young girl has learned in order to survive the cruel world she must always put herself first. Along her travels, many have chosen to give their life for hers. Anna feels their deaths would be in vein if she died, but their self sacrifice has also pushed Anna's ego. Survival is a corner stone of her character. She doesn't know her path assuming only it will be a bold one. Anna will often dream of realms doused with fire, swirling with death and decay. She is whist away inhabiting bodies and living out their deaths. The unsettling experience haunts her weakening the value of life in her mind. Preferring to fight battles unfairly, revenge is her driving agency. However, she doesn't seek out death. Particularly, those that have wronged innocents or her what she sees as her friends directly. Once in motion she embodies the evils of darkness. Only stopping at when she has drained the life out of her foes. The only thing that keeps her from the final villainous shift is the kindness she has experienced in her fearful travels. Background Anna knows of two times periods in her life, the temple and running from it. The later is filled with bounty hunters, cultist zealots, narrow escapes, and handful of friendly martyrs. Before that she remembers caverns, ruins, and shrines. All drenched with evil and shadow. If given a map she can't make sense of anything, except she remembers the arching stone door. The runes that if failed to press correctly incinerate the room. She remembers the sticky soot cover floor, and has visions of the combination required to unlock it's entrance. The alter's she sat on waiting for her end. However, any semblance to time eluded her memory. Anna wasn't aware of the circumstances around her birth. Was she a peasant girl, or a princess? To be honest, she doesn't remember before the temple. One of her caretakers named Jefferos told her before his violent death, " he thought they had wiped her mind." But, he was a superstitious man. Claiming of a coming death, creeping to devour the world. Nance told Anna that she was taken because she was so young, "Ain't nothing to fall back to. Can't chase your past if you to young to have one." She was her favorite, that good Ol' Nance. They had been together for nearly two months, and she made Anna feel like normal child. "Eat you greens! To much bread, you'll grow to be plump. Brush your hair." Although they left it unspoken the pair shared a love for each other. Burning Souls Deep breaths of near freezing cold formed clouds out of the woman's mouth as she tucked the child. The fire was nearly out. She looked over of the emberless logs in their flickering little pit. The girl spoke softly, "Nance its to cold. I can see your breath." "I know, I know just trying to temper the light Anna. Never know whats out there." The words met with feinting smiles. Yet, the woman hushed the young one and used her fingers to slip Anna's eyes closed. One day you'll be far away from all this. Grow up like a regular kid you will. Get yourself a horse to ride, a dog to pet. Maybe I'll even teach ya to sew. Make a fine woman out of ya." Again, her words attempted to make the situation less hopeless, promises of a life just beyond reach. "I don't think that is going to happen Lady Nancy." A moment later the feint trot of multiple horses could be heard in the distance. The girls caretaker sprung into action kicking the barren sand dousing the flame. But, it was to late. The entourage had spotted their camp from afar. The woman shook the sleeping child. "We must go, they're here. Run to the tree line, don't stop for nothing." Anna was quick to warn, "We can't go into the forest. I can't control it." Her gloved hand clutched the loosely hanging broche, despite Anna's words the charm pulled her towards the treeline. In a sense of dreadful haste the pair sprinted away. Four men donning black cloaks chased after. "STOP! Please, don't make me kill her." There was hidden joy in his tone. The captain loved the chase, but his words left a need to be done with the nonsense. With a two fingered point his man understood the order, and fired a warning shot. His warning was ignored. The girls ran in, disappearing quickly in to the dense foliage of the bog. The captain gave out a sigh, before yet again commanding with his signature double fingered swipe. After a loud thrusting kick, and a painful neigh later the point soldier's horse recoiled at the order to chase. After the negotiation the fatty beast began to hesitantly move forward into the dark fog soaked forest. "We can't lose them again. Fan out, find them."   The mercenaries split up to cover more ground. Every minute that went by the grew more agitated, and cold. Promise of coin superseded the far to long adventure of finding a simple runaway child. "Here little girl I won't hurt you! Just come out." The captain continued to give open offers with no real hope either would comply. "Come on bitch, I'll split the bounty with ya! Give ya ten percent. You know what those fanatics are paying? A ****ing ton! An I am offering you some to just end this qu....." The man stopped his sentence viewing the woman's body mangled next to a a large ill tree. A sense of shock took him. He spurred his mount looking for his men. But, they were gone. Disappeared into the fog. "Seven Hells!" The captain jabbed his spurs into his old friend with no thoughts of being gentle. They ran. The horse had no intent to dwell in the dark place. It galloped dangerously fast through the terrain, jumping the small streams and downed trees. Breathing heavily the mercenary leader came upon one of his downed men. The body too was slashed to pieces. Organs, blood, and a few tears covered the area. A loud growl broke the eerie silence, "FFFRrrrrrrrrmmmmmm." It jumped out from the shadows, a massive beast with what seemed like a hundred gnawing teeth ripped into the warrior. The weight of the creature was crushed and paralyzed the man. A hidden dagger thrust over and over into the bear, before it retreated. A young angelic voice chimed from the shadows. "Beware beware the child of the sea, Beware I heard them cry. I called, I called it with ease, Its mouth stretched open wide. Beware Beware the child of the sea, you shouldn't have tried. Taken away slain by the beast, all your men have died." She slowly moved forward into the full glory of the moonlight. "I am not going back there." He cried out hemorrhaging from his extremities. "I yield, I'll tell them your dead. Move on no more, I promise." Anna's black glove fell to the ground exposing a scarred hand covered by years of burns. His eyes faded to the back of his skull when her ice cold flesh touched his cheek. "No, death calls for you."

[Jat]

Anna is ready to go. Finished the application just in time.

I didn't have time to ask if Ebberon Favored Soul was allowed, if not I'll change it to another origin that is approved.

[Inuvash255]

Thank you for all the applications everyone! Just a few more hours left!

Over the next few days, I'll make my selections.

[MaximumUnicorn]

Sadly I'm going to have to pull out from this one for the time being. Best of luck to everyone!

[Inuvash255]

I have selections!

Dorack	Lady Aalandria
saratek187	Kahlan Ackerman

Welcome to the game, Dorack and Saratek187!

And thanks to everyone who submitted a character for this campaign. You all made some cool and interesting characters!

[ellie]

Congrats Dorack and Saratek, and have a good game everyone!