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

[Inuvash255]

App Reviews and follow-up questions:

[chri2m]

Posting interest

[kymrel]

My application is now complete. I would welcome a review!

Ealian Finuthin Name: Ealian Finuthin Race: High-Elf (Sun Elf) Class: Wizard (Bladesinger) level 3 Background: Urban Bounty Hunter Age: 121 years old Gender: Male Alignment: Chaotic-Good Description: Ealian Finuthin at first appears fairly unimpressive, of average height for an elf (5'7") and fairly skinny. Although not heavily muscled, he has well-toned muscles and carries himself well. He has tanned, almost golden skin and honey-blonde hair that reaches just past his shoulders. His face has a feint-blue geometric tattoo which makes his face quite distinctive. His arms also have a patterned tattoo that is vaguely similar to a black-and-white tiger. Ealian tends to dress in a light green-tinted leather armor that doesn't restrict his movement and clothes in various shades of green. He carries a long, slim sword with an ornate hilt on his left hip and a matching dagger on the other. Traits: - I can be overly stubborn, even when it makes sense to give in. I find it especially hard to think that a human or one of the other lesser races might have a better idea than me in any given situation. - I am very curious, I have to know everything that's going on around me. This has gotten me into trouble numerous times but sometimes I just have to know. Ideal: Perfection. I strive towards perfection in everything I do. Making mistakes annoys me greatly, and the biggest mistake I ever made was allowing my sister to leave me behind. It has left me with a guilt complex, feeling responsible not only for my own actions and safety, but for the safety of my family, other elves and friends I make along the way. Bond: My twin sister is depending on me to find a cure to her condition as I'm positive that the effort of the rest of our family will fail. I have failed my sister once before and will not do so again, even if it means associating with people I would normally consider beneath me to get the support I need to find what I'm looking for. Flaw: I will take great personal risks to learn lost arcane secrets, especially those that might have originated in Myth Drannor. I belief the cure for what ails my sister can be found there and finding something from that ancient civilization is blooming into an obsession. Player Goals: I’m an old-timer and remember owning the grey box a long, long time ago, so I love the non-restrictive world that is the Forgotten Realms, perfect for sandbox games. I have fond memories of the Dales in particular after playing in several campaigns there an equally long, long time ago. I am interested both in political games and good old-fashioned exploration, dungeon-crawls and everything in between. What matters most to me is having good role-playing opportunities, with NPCs, but especially the other PCs. Character Goals: Ealian’s goals in the game would center around finding hidden knowledge, ancient magic etc. Ealian has a problem to solve and a twin-sister to save and is convinced that the solution to the mysterious condition that ails his sister will be found in or around Myth Drannor. Sadly, his elven friends and family think he’s gone mad with grief (and they might not be wrong) and feel that the solution lies elsewhere, if it can be found at all. Ealian is not stupid and knows that he will need to find staunch companions to help him survive the dangers of the ancient Myth Drannor. He is not interested in hiring mercenaries or traveling there with people he doesn’t know, or trust. Like most elves, he takes the long view and is perfectly willing to spend time building a good relationship with trustworthy allies to make sure they are all ready to do what needs doing in Myth Drannor.   The birth of twins is rare in any elven community, and Ealian and his twin sister Ealiara were destined for greatness from birth. Both trained with their uncle Kytaran as bladesingers, working to find those who wrong elves in some way and bringing them to justice. The three of them have worked as a team of sorts, a pair of apprentices assisting the master bladesinger. All that changed a few months ago. Ealara had always been even more curious than her brother, and for some reason she decided to use a bit of downtime while their master, Kytaran, went to pay his respects to a master of their bladesinging order to follow up on an old story all elves that grow up near the Dales hear as children. The story involved a gem that was said to be the Tear of Sehanine Moonbow, stolen from her by another god, Erevan Ilesere, and hidden out of her reach in the realm of men. The elven twins had met a group of human treasure hunters who claimed to have a map leading to a treasure, and for some reason, Ealara had gotten the idea that a part of the description the men gave described the Tear. Ealian thought it was a stretch, at best. During the following night, while Ealian was studying his spellbook, working on perfecting a new spell, his sister snuck out. She left him a note telling him that she had to follow up on the story told by the men, and asked him not to follow her. Heartbroken over the fact that his twin sister had decided to leave him for this idiotic quest, Ealian started his journey home, alone. Only after almost three days of traveling did he get a feeling of deep foreboding, like something was terribly wrong. He headed back immediately and once he got back to the small frontier town he tried his best to follow the group of humans his sister had chosen to travel with. The trail had gone cold and Ealian found himself wandering the forest, trying to follow his instinct and his heart, trying to find his sister. It was like finding a needle in a haystack and felt like an impossible task. But just as a needle in the haystack can be found with a magnet strong enough, Ealian eventually stumbled upon his sister, wandering aimlessly in the forest. Most of her equipment was gone and she had a terrible wound on her shoulder, but otherwise she seemed fine. Except that she had no memory of what happened to her and the men she had traveled with. Ealian returned home with his sister, but during the journey they found out that her condition was deteriorating rapidly. Her strength was leaving her, and eventually she became too weak to walk, her hands to weak to lift food to her mouth. Ealian carried his sister on his back for two days, until they were overtaken by a patrol of elves, who helped them the rest of the way home. Ealian and his family tried everything over the next few weeks to restore his sister to health, but to no avail. In the end, they consulted a dryad seeress, deep in the forest. The cryptic answer she gave indicated that his sister had been cursed, and that the only way to undo the curse was to go back to where it originated. This was vague indeed, but Ealian felt like he had no choice but to follow up on it. The others were not convinced, and wanted to explore other options, calling on a high-priestess of Corellon Larethian, asking her to travel to the Dales to try to undo the curse with her potent divine magic. When his family did not want to pursue the cryptic answer of the seeress, Ealian decided to go alone. Like his sister a few weeks earlier, he left in the night, just before he was supposed to go with his uncle on a mission to find a human noble that had murdered an elf during a hunt in the woods. Ealian traveled to human lands, determined to find a way to find out where his sister went, and what happened to her, hoping that if he does, he might be able to break the curse.   "You heard that story ‘bout that poncy elf sitting by the fire? Ealian is his name. A real stuck up snob, but don’t tell him that. He works with Kytaran Finuthin, the bladesinger who was the guest of honor at the solstice festival last year. You remember, right? He performed that dance that all the broads went wild over," Dario, a one-eyed half-elf slurs, rolling his one good eye in disgust. Brugo just shakes his head, bushy eyebrows drawing so close together that they touch in the middle. "Well, I’ll tell you about it,” the drunk Dario continues, throwing his head back as he pours the remainder of his shot glass into his mouth. “Me and a few associates were hired by the Rotan boys to track down a group suspected of working for the Black Network. Not to take them out or anything so dramatic. No, they apparently killed some uppity moon elf and took his sword. The Rotan-brothers told us to forget anything else, that the elves would ransom that blade with enough gold to keep us all in whores and liquor until the end of time. We weren’t the lead on that hunt though. We were the hired muscle for the most tasty moon-elf I have ever had the displeasure of not having a romp with. You might have seen her, calls herself Nalia. Red hair, green eyes. Body to die for. But anyway. We tracked them down. There were about fifteen of them, going slow up the road to the Dales with a couple of wagons full of who knows what.” The half-elf waved a serving maid over and ordered another round of drinks for the table. “We stalked them for the better part of the day, until they stopped for the night by a small creek. Nalia ordered us to wait for a bit, since she wanted the guards to get sleepy before sneaking in and finding that sword. But we weren’t the only ones hunting that night. As we are making our approach, what do we see but a trio of poncy elves, walking up to the camp from the nearby woods, not even bothering to hide.” Dario pauses for a moment as the waitress brings the drinks, and gratefully takes a large swig from a tankard, pinching the girl’s behind as she walks away, deftly avoiding her slap. “The leader, the Kytaran fellow I told you about,” he says, continuing his story. “He has a pair of balls on him. Twenty or so guys facing him, and he just tells them to deliver the sword or they will all die this night. Bloody hell, that’s cold, right?” he says, and his companions nod in unison. “Me and the boys, we decide to wait this out. Let them fight it out and take the sword from the winner. Smart, that’s us, right? Only, we can’t find Nalia. So we figure she’s done a runner. Anyway, those Black Network guys are having none of what the elves are selling. About half of them shoot at the trio of elves with crossbows, but they just mutter something, and the quarrels miss. Every single one of them. Must have been fifteen quarrels. And not one hit. And now the elves are a blur. They draw swords, so the rest of the guys rush out to fight them while the crossbowmen reload. Damn guys, if you ever have to fight a bladesinger, you should make sure you’ve paid the priests for a nice funeral first. Those elves weren’t messing around. The leader opened up with a spell, burning half or the Black Network guys where they stood. And then they sliced into the rest of them.” Dario takes another gulp of ale, wiping the foam off his mouth with the back of his hand, before continuing. “About that time the leader of the Black Network guys decides to make himself scarce. He grabs a box, which I presume has the elven blade in it, and uses a spell to create some sort of a portal that he steps through, and poof, he’s away. The leader of the elves, he doesn’t miss a beat. He says something to the other two and then with a snap of his fingers he’s gone too, through a portal of his own. You would think that the other two elves would be doomed, facing all the rest of the Black Network guys, probably twenty-five or thirty guys. Well, they weren’t. They fought back to back, so close that it looked like one elf with two swords. The others never stood a chance. They were cut down like corn on harvest day. When the fighting was over, there must have been fifty bodies around the elves. All dead. All killed with a single blow. Think about it, every blow a killing blow. How do you fight people like that? You can’t, that’s how,” he says, finishing his tankard. As he slumps over the table, feeling dizzy after a long night of hard drinking, he finishes with words of wisdom for his friends: “So, guys, take my word for it. You don’t want to give that elf any cause to want you dead, that much is clear. And if you find an elven sword, just hand it back when they send someone for it. Trust me.” Brugo, clearly unsatisfied with the lose end of the tale, pokes Dario. “Hey, what about the broad? Nalia? She just split on you?” The question brings a little life back into Dario. “Not even close. If you think the other elves had a pair on them, she must have had balls made of pure adamantite, that one. You know what she did while we were watching?” He doesn’t give Brugo or the others a chance to respond before rambling on. “She crawled into one of the wagons, poped on a pair of manacles and when the elves finally killed the last guy not clever enough to run she shouted for help, playing the damsel in distress, saying she got kidnapped. Last we saw of her she was walking away with the elves, looking back to us and winking. I’m willing to bet she ended up stealing that sword from them. My kind of girl.”   “It is time to leave, Ealian.” Kytaran’s voice sounded cold. “We leave with the sunrise. We have to be in Waterdeep in a weeks’ time, if we want to have any chance of catching that rat-faced human. He‘ll be heading to his family there, but they will send him into hiding once they figure out what he did.” The tall Sun Elf looked at his nephew with a sad look on his face. “I have already said goodbye to Ealiara. The priests will do all they can for her. All we can do now is concentrate on our work,” he said, closing the door as he left Ealian's quarters. After he left, Ealian closed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. He took one last look at the spartan room, wondering if he'd ever see his home again. At least he had some direction to follow, something he could do to help his sister. Even if the odds seemed stacked against him. He walked slowly through the corridors, not sure what to say to his sister. His twin sister whom he’d spent his entire life with. And now he might never see her again. Almost too soon he found himself in front of Ealiara’s room. As he opened the door he could see that she had gotten worse. She was lying in a divan, her head resting on a thick pillow, a book on a reading stand next to the bed. She was too weak to hold the book but could just about manage to flip the pages. As he walked in, she tried to sit up straight, with limited success. It pained him to see how slow and sluggish she had become, wincing as she rose up. He slowly kissed the back of her hand. “Kytaran is leaving for Waterdeep in the morning, sister. And from there, who knows. But I’m not going with him. I’m leaving. The seer said that I would find what I seek in Myth Drannor, since I assume that’s where you went, and what I seek is a cure for whatever it is that ails you. So the cure must be there.” Ealian stroked his sister’s forehead slowly. She looked older. “We will break this curse, Ealiara. No matter the cost I will not fail. I can’t spend the rest of my life without you.” His eyes well up. “It’s just, I don’t know how to do this alone. We have only been separated once before and that ended in disaster. I’ve never gone into danger without you to watch my back. It feels as if I’m leaving the best part of myself behind,” he says, hugging his sister tightly. “You will be fine,” his sister said, her voice calm and controlled. “All I have to do is wait here and get bored while you go on the most important quest of your life. I wish things weren’t the way they are, and we were headed out together. But we must play the notes we are given and finish the song. And my part is over, for now. And you must finish our song.” Ealiara quickly untied a green ribbon from her braided hair. “Here, take this, and remember me every time you touch it,” she says, rising up to tie the ribbon around her brother’s thick ponytail. Ealian looked at her wide-eyed. “I can’t. The queen, she gave it to you, I can’t possibly take it,” he says, starting to untie the ribbon again. Ealiara held his hands, stopping him. “And now I’m giving it to you. If it carries the good will of the queen, you will need it much more than I will. Take it, and remember me.” Ealian stopped struggling. “I will be back, you know. And you will be waiting for me when I do,” he said, his voice firm now. The twins hugged for a long moment before he kissed her cheek and turned to leave the room. As he walked out he had to force himself not to look back.

[timplausible]

Interest. Lots of interest.

Is a Lizardfolk considered a monster character (and thus prohibited)? Or is it allowed? (Answer: Allowed. YAY!)

Application Name: Zeek Race: Lizardfolk Class: Cleric - Life Domain (Deity: Semuanya, lizardfolk god of survival) Background: Outlander Age: 16 (a couple of years into lizardfolk adulthood) Gender: Male Alignment: Neutral Description: Zeek is relatively skinny for a lizardfolk. His most distinctive features to those who aren't lizardfolk are the large frills on either side of his head, and the red tint on his hands and feet. Zeek wears very little clothing, and carries a similarly small amount of other possessions. Personality Traits: Personality Trait 1: I am always calm, no matter what the situation. Personality Trait 2: I hate waste and see no reason not to scavenge fallen enemies. Fingers are tasty and portable! Ideal: Survival - Any deed done in the interest of survival is good. Any other action is irrelevant and not worth the effort. Zeek sees everything through the lens of "does this help or hurt my/our chances of survival?" He is a cleric of life, but unlike most clerics of life, he does not heal people out of any sense of moral obligation. He heals his companions, because if they die, the group is less likely to achieve its goals. Or worse, after they die, he'll be next. He has no drive to heal random people who may need it. He's not necessarily opposed to doing so - he just doesn't see the point. But if his companions want him to do it, and it doesn't make things worse, he'll do it. Though he might complain about it being a waste of time. Zeek's outlook also makes him not what you'd call "heroic". He'll run if things look bad. He won't risk his life if failure seems likely. For the most part, nothing is worth dying for. This isn't just his lizardfolk outlook either, but also the tenants of his religion. Zeek's hierarchy of survival is: self, tribe, the lizardfolk race, and companions - though give his current isolation from any other lizards, "tribe" and "companions" are fairly synonymous. Bond: I have no tribe; my party is my new tribe... until I can find a better one. Zeek was trained to be a tribal shaman. The major function of such a shaman is to use his divine power to ensure the survival of the tribe. Unfortunately, Zeek currently has no tribe. The closest thing he has is the party that he has attached himself to. Although he doesn't really have a concept of friendship, camaraderie, or even loyalty, he does feel a calling to be the best shaman that he can be for his current tribe, aka: the party. He will keep them alive to the best of his ability. This serves a dual function: helping further his own goals of surviving and becoming more powerful, and also fulfilling his obligation to his god. Eventually he hopes to find a new tribe, and to be powerful enough that they will want him to join them. Until then, however, he watches over his current charges as any good shaman would. Flaw: I do not fully understand non-lizard social norms, and am prone to say or do things that upset others. Zeek has no trouble using the bodies of fallen enemies as potential food sources - even humanoid and demi-human corpses. He has learned that most soft-skins frown on this, so he tries not to do it openly anymore. But as the lizard adage goes: fingers are tasty and portable. Player Goals: For a while, I have been looking for an opportunity to play a very lizardy lizardfolk, but thusfar things haven't panned out. This sounds like an excellent opportunity to try again. The Dalelands don't hold a special draw for me as a player, per se, but as a setting with many small players and smallish conflict, it sounds like a great place to play a character that really doesn't care about grand battles of good vs evil, law vs chaos, or other such nonsense. Character Goals: Zeek has a few very simple goals in life: Stay alive Grow in skill and power to the point where a lizard tribe will accept him into it Find a lizard tribe and become part of Find a mate in said tribe and sire offspring Goals 1 and 2 currently lead to a derived goal of traveling with an adventuring party and helping to keep them alive. He has little interest in the politics of the land, but any quest that might lead to powerful magics that he can acquire will be of special interest to him. Secondary to that are quests that have a monetary reward. Zeek has come to understand that, despite money being a ridiculous concept, soft-skins will sometimes sell items of power in exchange for money. Goals 3 and 4 lead Zeek to want to learn more about where lizard tribes might be found. Zeek feels that a tribe likely won't want to bring in a stranger with little to offer other than an additional mouth to feed, but when he has gained sufficient power to impress a tribe, he will want to know where to find a tribe. All of this will tend to make Zeek a bit of a "go with the flow" kind of party member. The party wants to explore a mysterious location? Sure. The party wants to attack a bandit hideout. Sure. He won't have strong preferences for one quest over another - except that quests with the potential for magical power will be of more interest to him than others, but any quest that allows him to improve his skills will seem like a good idea to him (as long as it isn't obviously a suicide mission). Left to his own devices, or if put in charge, he'll tend to look for adventury-type things that locals need done. Very much a classic "where's the next dungeon?" kind of character, though his motivation for thinking that way will be quite different from the classic dungeon-stomper D&D archetype. Bio: Zeek was born into a small lizardfolk tribe in Tarkhaldale. His youth in the tribe was relatively uneventful. When he was 6, the tribe’s shaman chose him to be his assistant, a role that would ultimately lead to Zeek becoming the next shaman. Zeek took to this new role with zeal, learning the teachings and rites of their god, Semuanya. When Zeek was 9, a war band of humanoids from the nearby Desertsmouth Mountains descended on the tribe. Zeek and the shaman were on the edge of the tribe’s territory for a lesson when the attack came. The Shaman went to defend the village, but instructed Zeek to hide. The Shaman made it clear to Zeek that someone from the tribe had to survive, and that Zeek was to take no risks. The Shaman never returned. A few days later, Zeek encountered a party of adventurers that had set out to deal with the rampaging humanoids. While Zeek and the adventurers were deciding what to do about each other, they were ambushed by an orc patrol. Zeek fought with the adventurers and they handily defeated the patrol. The adventurers were impressed with Zeek's abilities, and invited him to join them in ridding the land of the humanoids that destroyed his tribe. Zeek saw this as unnecessary, but he also thought that he might have a better chance of surviving if he stayed with the party. After defeating the humanoids, Zeek decided to remain with the party for a while. Despite the fact that an adventuring party intentionally seeks out dangerous situations, it seemed to Zeek that being part of a bonded group might give him a better chance of survival than trying to make it on his own. Over the next few years, Zeek came of age while adventuring. His initial party split up, but Zeke quickly sought out and found others to adventure with. For now, his party is his tribe, and he is their shaman. This is how he survives. Of course, Zeek will eventually leave his fellow adventurers behind. Survival is of no value if you do not create a next generation. Zeek continues to adventure, because it helps him to become stronger. He will need that strength if he eventually wants to prove himself to a lizard tribe so that he can join it. And he will need to do that to find a mate. Everything else is really just a means to this ends. "Zeek" is not really this lizardfolk’s name, of course. Like most lizardfolk, the concept of names was alien to Zeek. The party was asking for his name, but he interpreted them as asking “what do you call yourself?” Even that question confused him. “I call myself a person” he tried to explain, but he used the draconic word for person instead: xiekiv. The others thought he was introducing himself as “Zeekiv”. By the time everyone figured out what was actually being communicated, the "name" Zeekiv had stuck. Eventually that was shortened to "Zeek". Zeek could care less about what he is called, but he has learned that soft-skins expect names. Zeek is as good as any, so that’s what he uses.

[Inuvash255]

Lizardfolk are fine =)

[purplerook]

Note to GM Innuvash, Great timing on this game and I hope you accept my application. There are a lot of hooks as well as NPCs and a couple of organizations in Charlie's backstory. My intent was to leave her mentors and the Black Hawk Mercenaries off-stage in Cormyr. However, let me know what you feel needs to be altered in the backstory to fit into the Daleland. Also, I am looking forward to your Downtime rules.

Application Name: Charlene 'Charlie' Granger Race: VHuman Class: Paladin 3 Vengeance - Red Night, Lady of Strategy Background: Mercenary Age: 24 or 25 Gender: Female ( Confused, but probably a 4 or 5 on the Kinsey Scale) Alignment: Lawfull Neutral Description: Physical Description of your character. From first to last glance, Charlie is the quintessential mercenary. A black tabard is worn over chain mail - proclaiming her availability. Sword and shield display her skills. With her muscular build, small breasts, short cut blond hair, and scars; many would at first mistake her for a man. This is a mistake that Charlie does not correct. Charlies normally pale face is browned by years outside training and fighting. However, the rest of her skin is still a pale white. For those who see her with her gloves off, she has two set of tattoos on her forefingers. One hand says 'H-E-A-L' and the other hand 'H-U-R-T'. Rumor has it that she has the tatoo of a red chess piece - symbol of the Red Knight - on one of her breasts, but no one will admit to having seen it. Personality Traits: From the PHB or otherwise. I am not one for small talk, I prefer conversations about strategy, tactics, technique, and equipment. I have a strategic bent and I like to be prepared. As well, I tend to approach a problem from an oblique angle and look for out of the box solutions - "First win and then seek to go to war" and "Be Prepared". Ideal: From the PHB or otherwise. Also, please include what that ideal means to your character on a deeper level. My Word is my Bond. Charlie believes that written and oral contracts need to be honored. Once she makes an agreement, she will do her utmost to honor it. She respects other people who honor their commitments and has disdain for those that do not. Bond: From the PHB or otherwise. Also, be specific when it comes to a person, place or thing. I owe who I am to Indus and the Black Hawk Mercenaries as well as Seph and the Red Knight church. Charlie would do anything for Indus and Seph. In part, Charlie is on her own now, only because the two of them told her that they had taught her all they could and it was time for her to form her own experiences. 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? In terms of Player Goals, I am looking forward to a focus on character development. With Charlie, where did she come from? her parents, the mysterious pendant. At the same time, who is Charlie going to become? To date, Charlie has been driven by her circumstances, becoming a mercenary and a Paladin. Now she gets to start choosing. As well, I am looking forward to playing a Dark Knight Character (e.g., Modern Batman, Punisher) - doing bad things to bad people. In term of the Dalelands, I like the sandbox approach where the players and GM collaboratively develop adventures. As well, I like the small scale, it feels like PCs can make a difference in the world (or at least the lives of a few people in a dale). Character Goals: I'm looking for characters who know what they want. What are your character's motivations? Most immediately, Charlie is motivated by a desire to avenge her family and to prove herself to Indus and Seraph - who have become in some ways her surrogate mother and father. As well, Charlie wants to find out about her heritage. More broadly, Charlie needs to discover who she wants to be. To date, her background has been dictated by her training from her mentors - Indus and Seraph. Brief Story: The Blooding, Charlie the Paladin Bio: Your character's life, from childhood, up to Level 3, including a way they would have joined the party. Charlie grew up on a small farm in Shadowdale. From her earliest memories, Charlie was different. She grew up a blonde-haired pale girl in a family of dark-haired and swarthy siblings. Charlie has few memories of her mother who passed away when Charlie was young (just three or four). Charlie's father and siblings appear to harbor some lingering grudge against Charlie for her mother's death but would not talk with her about it. On her mother's death, Charlie's father gave Charlie an unusual pendant. The pendant was not a precious metal, but rather forged steel. The shape was a five-pointed star. There were fixtures for five gems or stones, but the fixtures where empty. Between her siblings' thinly veiled hostility and her different looks, Charlie was initially a target of bullies. However, Charlie quickly developed strength and skills beyond the other children. As well, she demonstrated a fierce temper when provoked. After a tussle of two, she made her peace with her sibling and the neighboring children. When Charlie hit puberty (around 13 or 14), Charlie quickly developed into an attractive young woman. She immediately came to the notice of local boys. However, Charlie was flustered and confused about how people were treating her differently. One day, a pair of adventurers/mercenaries happened upon Charlie and one of her older sisters, Bridget, at the local market. The two mercenaries flirted with the two women. Bridget returned the mercenaries attention, but Charlie spurned their advances. The two mercenaries intercepted the two women on their way home. When the women did not consent to grant them sexual favors, the two mercenaries attempted to rape the women. As she was attacked, something snapped inside Charlie. She beat the mercenary who attacked her with a quarter staff and then attacked the one raping Bridget. When she came to her senses, Charlie had killed both of the men. Bridget and Charlie were initially arrested for the death of the two mercenaries. At first, the Sheriff was reluctant to believe that a single girl could kill two seasoned mercenaries. As the facts came to light, Charlie was released on the charges of killing the two men, but the violence and her temper became the talk of the dale. Soon after this incident, Charlie’s father was paid a visit by Indus, the leader of a large mercenary group - the Black Hawks. After a bit of negotiation, Indus paid Charlie’s father a hefty sum for Charlie to be indentured/apprenticed to Indus for a period of 10 years. As Charlie’s father explained it to Charlie "All the boys in the vale have heard what you did. As a farmer’s daughter, none will approach you. As a mercenary, you will find a place with your own kind." At this Indus laughs and tell Charlie and her father "She will rule among mercenaries. With no training, she bested two fighters. When I am through with her she will be able to hold her own against knights of the land." While Charlie was an odd-fish in the Dale, she quickly found her place in the Black Hawks. The mercenary group respected her fighting prowess and motivation. Indus took a personal liking to Charlie and did a fair bit of training with her. While Charlie was trained in a wide variety of martial weapons, she had an affinity for the staff, and when she first trained with the Glaive, found it her preferred weapon. The Glaive compensated for the reach of her short stature. As well, Charlie found that many who could dodge the first strike were surprised when she attacked with the but. The Black Hawk’s Strategist was a woman called Seraph. Seraph was a Paladin of the Red Knight, an avid Lanceboard Player and decidedly bi-sexual. From Seraph, Charlie learned how to play Lanceboard (not as well as Seraph) and that she preferred women to men. As well, Charlie became a Paladin sworn to the Red Knight. As Charlie approached her time to take an Oath with the Red Knights, she struggled with which Oath to swear. the Red Knights’ focus was on strategy and contained individuals from a variety of backgrounds who had sworn various Oaths. The Black Hawks were mercenaries, taking the coin of whoever would pay them, although Indus and Seraph did try work for established governments. As Charlie was debating, she received a message from the Dale, that her family’s farm had been raided. Her father was dead, and her oldest sibling Bridget carried off. Charlie took this as a sign from the Lady of Strategy. Charlie Swore the Oath of Vengeance, to hunt down and destroy evil wherever it occurred, starting with those who had attacked her family. Having sworn her Oath, Charlie took her leave of Indus and Seraph and headed back to Shadowdale. As she went towards the Daleland, Charlie realized that she would need to recruit a team to aid her in her quest. So, Charlie wore the black tabard of an unemployed sellsword (individual mercenary) and would stop at various Inns inquiring about others looking for adventure.

[Begon Ugo]

Deng Application Character Name: Banger Deng Race: Mountain Dwarf Class: Fighter 3 Background: Folk Hero Age:250 Gender: Male Alignment: Neutral Good Description: Banger is as stout as most of his brethren, if a bit portly around the midsection. He wears his fiery red hair and beard wild and long. Even though he is obviously short he has been told that he walks tall and it is true. When Banger walks into a room, the room takes notice. Upon gaining everyone's attention, the first thing that they would notice about Banger is the eyepatch covering his left eye, the result of an orc arrow. Personality Traits 1:Me friends know they ken rely on me, nae matter what. Personality Traits 2:I'm confident in me own abilities and do what I ken ta instill confidence in others. Ideals: People. I'm committed ta tha people I care about, nae ta ideals. Me girl...Laurena, I'll tell ye about her in a moment. Bonds: Me honor be me life. Player Goals: The classic Forgotten Realms is the setting of epic battles between heroes and villains and the everyday people caught in the middle. That’s how I see my character...caught in the middle. He is a hero...but for Banger that was another lifetime. I want to see him interact with an amazingly robust setting full of magic and mayhem but at the same time, be free to actual live a life of his own. Character Goals: Me name be Banger. I’m a Dwarf and because of this I’m supposed ta be rough and ready ta fight. But I’m nae. Nae even close. I like flowers... and kittens...and...and Laurena. I like Laurena a lot. But she be gone now. She left and she will probably get herself killed in some fool way. She is always spirited and ready ta fight. Nae a hard girl ta fall for. Ahhhh...but i git ahead of myself. I be tha owner of tha Double Fist Tavern. It be me retirement home of sorts. I hung up me battle axe and settled down for a nice life of steaks, ales, and brawlin'. And let me tell ye...business be good...damn good. Like I said I’m nae tha fightin' type...at least i'm nae anymore. Nope, I be tha cookin' type. Give me some fresh game, harvested correctly, and some herbs and spices and I will whip up some grub that wou' make ye drown in yer drool. Nae foolin' at all. I be that good. But they say all good thin's come ta an end and so it might. Me Laurena is on some fool mission, some inspired nonsense about good versus evil. I didn’t much care ta hear about it. I tried ta teach her about tha natural cycle of thin's. Ye ken...tha pendulum...it swin's back and forth. But she is a stubborn lass for sure. Bio: Banger grew to adulthood amongst the steadfast dwarves of Clan Battlehammer far to the north. He was lured away to Shadowdale by the promise of unending adventure and brawling by his friend, Boots the Lucky, a decidedly unlucky halfling thief. Together they both became prominent members of the mercenary crew, Mane's Band. After the crew was disbanded, Banger became a respected sergeant in Shadowdale's city watch. Banger has seen it all. To his ever living shame, he was there when Aumry Obarskyr was assassinated and to his credit, he fought against Zhentil Keep alongside Mourngrym Amcathra. Due to his honorable service to Shadowdale, Banger was given the choice of a small allotment of land or the monetary equivalent. Banger, lacking a family to return to, chose the money. He opened up the Double Fist Tavern and he whiles away his day greeting what the dust of the road brings him. His adventures now consist of listening to the tall tales of his patrons and cracking the heads of the belligerent.

[Rinkadoki]

Hi everyone! I'm pretty new here and this will be my first game if ever! I will file an application later or tomorrow! I hope you can take a newbie under your wing! Really interested

[Lord Grimblight]

Lesten Name: Lesten Yellowhammer Race: Dwarf Background: Faction Agent Age: 57 Gender: Male Description: Lesten, physically, is rather average for a dwarf. Short, but not shorter than most, black hair, a fine beard, a bit stocky, for all intents and purposes, perfectly ordinary. He's always preferred colorful clothes, and that's what he tends to wear. Bio: Lesten was born to a poor dwarven household. Living in the slums of the city, constantly hounded by people looking to collect his late father's debt, he learnt to survive. Constantly on the run, he quickly learnt how to hide, and honestly, run. Then one day, a group contacted him, offering to pay his debts and more, if he would work for them. He had little choice but to accept. Over the next couple years, he worked a multiple of jobs for them. Sometimes he would merely run messages across the city, other times he would be forced to hide people from the guards. He did good work, and when they told him he was going to meet the boss, he thought they had recognized that. They led him down countless hallways, deeper, and farther down. Masoned stone gave way to carved rock, which then gave way to the chaotic outcroppings of natural caves. Through these caves they had led him, for what, if the number of their rests were accurate, for three days. And then they reached the doors, two gigantic doors, both a strange bronze, and nearly 25 feet tall. As they passed through, the first sight of his boss terrified him almost as much as the voice that entered his mind. ~Ah, this must be Lesten. Yes, I think he'll do wonderfully.~

[MundayKnight]

Definite interest but random question, is feat racial variant human allowed? Not sure what I am going to apply with yet but since that is under variant rules figure it's worth asking.

[Inuvash255]

Variant Humans are allowed!

[GeneT]

Is there a deadline for apps? I didn't see one listed, although I might have missed it. It takes me a few days or longer to mull things over depending on the time frame.

[RandolphCarter]

Originally Posted by Inuvash255

App Reviews and follow-up questions:

[Inuvash255]

Originally Posted by GeneT

Is there a deadline for apps? I didn't see one listed, although I might have missed it. It takes me a few days or longer to mull things over depending on the time frame.

Not yet, I haven't quite figured out what I think is a good time just yet.

[GeneT]

Galati Name : Galati Mizil Bocsa Race : Wood Elf/Female Age : 17 Class : Warlock - The World is thinner in some places. Alignment : Chaotic Neutral Background : Urchin - A minor bereft through death or disappearance of, abandonment or desertion by, or separation or loss from, both parents. Placed, moved, relocated amongst the Court. Description : My hair is too light and my eyes too dark. So they always say. My smile too crooked to be pleasant or truthful. Reason enough to send me on my way, as is always the case. A nose that is tidy and a mouth that steals words or worse from any and all who chance on my face. Because what you see is what you see. And what else would matter? The bones of my collar peaking beneath my chin? The hollows of my high cheeks? The paleness of my lips that breath slow in the midst of hunger? Or is it desertion? Surely not. There is little to pack and less to carry with my small frame. Another place. Another pair of eyes that see what they will see. I am quick in the wood and have given up washing my face for you. Feed me if you want, my small hands will not tremble. But I'm better off alone in the green then passed amongst you. Tell me again what color are my eyes. Personality Traits : Galati secrets small things in her pockets. Shiny, dull, round, square, sharp edged. Little things that tease her fingers and ease her nerves. When you've nothing at all, one finds the mundane comforting by merely touching it and imaging that it is worth everything. Amidst these trinkets, connected to them, is spare food. And apple core perhaps. A crust of bread. A handful of beans. “The belly is an ungrateful wretch, it never remembers past favors, it always wants more tomorrow.” Ideal : None should hunger. None should want. But none should suffer a life of burdening others. Galati would rather starve than be taken in by the duress of one's conscience. She rather sleep wet in the trees then warm in a bed made for appearances. There are smiles that simply mark one's face and there are smiles that run deeper. Galati has had far too many of the former and rarely the latter. Bonds : In the darkness, there is she. Limbs sinuous, eye shining. Bright amid the night. Broad in the thinness. Oh, I would hold my breath a thousands nights waiting in the blackness for you. And the curling touch of your many faces. Player Goals : Galati is very young, especially for an elf. By chance or not, she has entered a pact with Something. Something in the deepening north of Glaemril. It is not what she sees, but it sees her. And it is all she has got. It gives freely and Galati returns such gifts by serving. Something is seeping into her being, a little at a time. Its just a matter of whether she'll recognize it or simply let it happen. She's never really had anything, so losing everything isn't as scary as it sounds. Character Goals : At first, Galati wishes to distance herself from the elven community in which she was born. The eyes and false smiles. The degradation at being passed from one family to the next, always on the periphery of a thing that she would never have, forced to move amongst them by the laws and traditions that demand she be feed and housed until she leaves for the forest to live by her wits and sees Something. And Something sees her. How many darkenings did she spend under that caress? She cares not. She steps out into the world in finding, filled with new powers, news sight, new words. Wanting to make good on what she has promised whenever it finally comes asking. Bio : What does it matter what happened when I was three? Or for that matter who I was forced upon following it. Who took money for me at four and seven. Nine and eleven. I fool myself into remembering my mother laughing a lot. And then my dad eventually joining in. It wasn't laughter. It was fits of coughing until they both went quiet. I think my bawling eventually brought others thru the door, wringing their hands at what should be done as I had no other family while they held their breath against the stench. But we elves have programs for that sort of thing. None left you see. So I was bundled up and moved, one family after the next. Each paid to feed and house me by the Court. A rotation of sorts so I didn't over-tax any one holding. The best of them were just in it for the coin. You might go hungry and cold, sleep in the dirt or some out of way place, but you knew what to expect. Keep quiet about it and you got a little extra food now and then. It was those in'it for their civic duty or some sort of conscience that were the worst. Sure they smiled a lot and rubbed grime from your face, but they were wrong inside. It only showed when no-one could see them. They'd hurt you where it didn't show, rub your face clean until it chaffed and bleed, all for your own good. Put you to work to 'earn you keep' and even loan you out to friends. Everything needed cleaning and small hands worked better than theirs. There is nothing more dangerous than someone motivated by a purpose or conscience, some recompense in the hereafter for good deeds done, all the while secretly abhorring the need to do them and letting that bubble out in small sharp amounts. They made sure not to leave scars anyone could see. Once I was old enough to understand just how 'ungrateful' I had become, I left them and went it alone. I lived from here to there, stealing and rummaging trash. Sometimes learning from others like me out on the fringe either by choice or not. Out in the forest I was mostly safe and far happier. I began to hear it, feel it around me. The ebb and flow to the forest's pulse. Something deep and cool with soft sinuous fingers drawing me deeper north until I was feral in my need for it. And as I teetered on the edge of that dark gash in the forest north of Glaemril, She rose up until the sun, and moon, and stars were lost. Until the ground itself was engulfed under her bulk and she flowed over me and I suffocated under the crush of her weight, the grip of her wriggling arms, and the heat of her hairless flesh. How many days and nights, months or years, did I revel in the glimpse of her infinite faces, her one bright eye, aware of my utter insignificance amid such unimaginable and terrifying enormity. Weightless in the folds of her flesh. I am nothing. Yet she sees me. Frees me. Empowers me. Feeds me. I feel her sinuous touch in the air, the flowing stream, the raven's call. A flight of thousands of starlings, conjoined by purpose, traces the figment of a portion her immensity in the sky and I watch, knowing she is here. She gives without expectation. We give in exaltation if only to return to her one bright eye and suffocate in the coils of her warm hairless bulk. Waiting to feel her voice rise from somewhere lost inside us, around us, thru us to whisper a purpose, to define our insignificance amidst the unimaginable. She is. We are. She sees us and let's us see her. I am nothing. I am free.