[D&D-5e] Out of the Abyss

[secretID]

[Disaster Master]

Important notice:

Now that it is less than 47 hours until the deadline, I'd like to mention something important: All applications that don't have the withdrawn status by then will be taken into account when I am assembling the adventuring party. Thus I am going to assume that everyone who is still applying is indeed willing to join to the campaign within the terms described in the advertisement. (In case there is some applicant with whom you definitely do not want to be in the same game, PM me.)

-- DM

[FamnDool]

So, today is the first day of my vacation, and I've got the (*^#(&#%(*^(*&%*($^(*&#)&*%)&#(*^@%*%&)#( Flu.

El'lynsyn, however, is a little hungry, and chomping at the bit to kill him some dark Cousins.

[BrokenPlayer]

Sydney Rose Name Sydney Rose Race Human Alignment Chaotic Good Patron Deity Tymora Class Fighter [Champion] [She learns to fight.. or dies.] Background Noble Personality Traits The common folk love me for my kindness and generosity. Despite my noble birth, I do not place myself above other folk. We all have the same blood. Ideal I must prove I can handle myself without the coddling of my family. Bond The common folk must see me as a hero of the people. Flaw By my words and actions, I often bring shame to my family. Appearance Sydney is a beautiful young woman who has everything going for her in the world. She has light blonde hair, deep green eyes, and a fair skin complexion that is just lightly kissed by the sun. Her body is only somewhat curvy and lacks any true, hardened muscle, but her mother continually makes remarks that she will "grow into a woman's body" in a few years. Personality Sydney addresses everyone as equals and friends. She is caring, supportive, and believes in making things right even in the worst of situations. She is a bit meek, however, and tends to shy away from confrontation and heated arguments. Given that she has had servants take care of her most of her life, Sydney is clueless when it comes to most mundane tasks and marvels at how certain mechanisms work. Motivation Before becoming a prisoner of the Drow, Sydney wanted to grow up to become a strong political leader, fighting for the common people and making the world a better place. After becoming a prisoner of the Drow, Sydney only wants to survive in order to see her family again. History Sydney was born into a wealthy, noble family in Waterdeep. The Rose family had bought their way into nobility, she had learned growing up, several centuries ago. One of the founding members of the Rose family had stumbled upon a large collection of gemstones buried deep in a mine. Over time, the mine was cleared and the stones were eventually sold off, netting the man who discovered it a vast fortune. Heirs were produced and a long line of Roses came to be; not true royalty, but royalty earned through smart business endeavors and a large family inheritance. Oddly, Sydney was born a twin, a feat the Rose family had not seen in decades. Sydney's twin sister was Sarena, and was Sydney's polar opposite in nearly every way. Where Sydney was timid and quiet, Sarena was fierce and opinionated. Sydney regarded the common folk as equals while Sarena viewed them as servants and "lesser" beings. Sarena even undertook private sword lessons while Sydney was learning how to become a lady in order to attract a wealthy husband. Still, despite their differences, Sydney loved her twin sister and, though she would never admit it, Sarena loved her back. Role-Playing Sample Sydney sighed quietly as she watched the sun dip beyond the horizon. She dared a glance to her left to find her mother shooting her a stern look; Sydney had sighed at least three times in the past half hour due to sheer boredom and exhaustion. Her family had gone on a tenday vacation to one of her father's friend's newly-built castles, though Sydney knew it was all a ploy for her to meet a potential husband as soon as she was personally greeted by a bachelor Half-Elf nearly twice her age. The man was nice, she could not deny that claim, but the age difference bothered Sydney to the point that she could not shake his age from her mind. "Ronoldo fancies you," her mother had said in the carriage as soon as the family was heading home. "He wishes to marry you. Your father and I approve. He is a well-traveled man who owns quite a bit of land." But that conversation had gone nowhere after Sydney dodged most of the important questions her parents threw at her. With the sun setting and Waterdeep still over a day's travel away, Sydney knew that she would have to come up with a solid excuse as to why she did not want to marry a forty year old Half-Elf with a pot belly. Camp was made once the road became too dangerous to travel. Sydney was given her own tent to sleep in alongside her own personal guard. After settling in for the night, Sydney found her mind racing and could not rest no matter what she tried. Frustrated, Sydney decided to sit outside and stare at the stars. Her guard had fallen asleep, so Sydney sat alone under a poorly-kept campfire's light. An hour passed and Sydney spotted a solid-white butterfly fluttering in the trees just outside of camp. Curiosity getting the better of her, Sydney crept through the camp and followed the butterfly into the woods. Time seemed to have escaped Sydney as she attempted to capture the beautiful, mesmerizing butterfly before her sight, and she found herself deep enough into the woods that she had lost sense of where her camp was located. Without warning, Sydney felt a prick in her upper arm. She moved to grab at her arm but found it completely numb and unresponsive. Sydney called out for help before her legs wobbled and she fell forward onto the soft earth. Quiet footsteps soon surrounded her, and Sydney could feel her body being lifted up before she fell unconscious.

[TheJester]

Thank you for considering me, even despite how late my application is! Inspiration struck at a late hour. I have worked the motivation, personality, and history sections together, I hope that is ok. It is kind of long, but I had to get the story out.

The Anguished Sage Character Name: Tocryn Corvalys Race : Forest Gnome Class: Illusion Wizard Patron Deity: Mystra Description or Image: Alignment: Lawful Good Personality Trait(s): - I am often somber because I have experienced great tragedy that I blame myself for. - I am intensely hunting the perpetrator of my sorrow. I am driven to do good deeds for those in need in order to make up for my past mistakes. Ideal(s): Good deeds done allow me to put to rest a name from my past. I believe that the universe is ordered and through magical means I can retrieve what I have lost." Bond(s): "I am tied to the memory of my home and all of the people who died there. I cannot look to the future until I bury the past. I must find my sons. I am driven to find a way magically to rebuild what I have lost." Flaw(s): "I am driven by a mixture of hatred, vengeance, and guilt. I have replaced a past addiction with an obsessive need to do good deeds, as well as find the ones responsible for my family's death." Background: Sage. "I was well respected in my hometown for my knowledge. I spent much of my time on research and teaching." Appearance: Tocryn is tall for a gnome, standing just a few inches short of 4 feet. He generally has several books on him at all times, which he keeps tucked into his broad brown belt. He generally wears a brown and green jacket with no cloak. On top of his head his hear is a chestnut brown and generally pulled back out of his face. His hair flows down his face into a large full beard, however he does not style or braid his beard as many gnomes do. Everything about Tocryn's appearance screams functionality over form.   Tocryn spent the first half of his life, before the fire that stole everything he knew, living a quiet village life. He was always interested in learning, and he made many trips to libraries, places of learning, and well known sages. He built up his own library, and quickly grew into the village sage and teacher of the small children. Fascinated with the interworking of magical properties and the world, he spent much of his time experimenting and attempting to learn magic. Tocryn caught the eye of another gnome, Jesmyl, a young woman who was fascinated by his knowledge and his excitement for life. She quickly won his heart, and they began a life together. She bore two children, and they lived a happy idylic life. Tocryn, however, wasn't content. He had a craving for more knowledge, and greater magical knowledge. He began working on a serum that would allow him to have greater focus and inspiration. Unfortunately for Tocryn, his area of expertise was not alchemy, and the serum he created, while partially successful, simulated the effects of a highly addictive drug. Tocryn was able to keep his growing addiction to his self-made drug a secret for the most part. He would lock himself in his library for hours, spending the majority of his time there in a drug induced daze, his mind whirling through one crazed magical theory or another. Most of these ideas and theories quickly fell by the wayside as he spent less and less time working and more time lost in the daze of his drug. And then the fateful day occurred. IC: Tocryn threw the tome across across the library, disgust written across his face. None of these old fools had any fresh ideas. If he wanted to advance magical theory and learn true magic, he was going to have to do it himself. There was just something he was missing that was keeping the true magic from him. He had learned bits and baubles, but nothing truly worthy of note. In one part of his mind he knew that his problem was simply a lack of focus, but he continued to convince himself that the problem was not enough inspiration. He needed to take a massive dose of his serum today, he needed a vision for something great. Tocryn went to the window of his library and peeked out. It was early morning, his family would be just getting up and beginning to prepare to meet the day. Perhaps he should go and spend some time with them, something he had done little enough of as of late. But no, they always understood when he was working and not to be disturbed. Tocryn pulled the heavy light-blocking shades down over the windows and locked the door with the deadbolt. He needed peace and quiet today. He went over to the brewing station and checked his serum. He was brewing up an especially large and potent batch today, this was the one that would get him over his block and allow him to access real magic. He didn't even notice the slight tremor in his hands as he carefully removed the source of heat from the liquid and placed it in a cooled box. Just a few more minutes. Tocryn cleared off his desk and set out a few sheets of parchment and a charcoal stick. He arranged a few common magical components in easy to reach places, as well as the less common components he had acquired that he continued to hope he could find a use for. He would need to be ready when the idea came to him. He could feel it hiding inside of him, just needing the right stimulus to bring it out. He could almost feel it gripping his mind, a heavy weight sitting on top of him. He thought about little else lately other than his need to find an idea, his need to use his serum. Tocryn closed his eyes in anticipation for a moment. When he opened his eyes, he was slightly perturbed to find his serum clenched in his hands. He must have blanked for a moment. A wave of need hit him and the small imprisoned rational part of his brain warned him that his need wasn't for a a magical theory or spell, but he was far too gone for that. Tocryn downed the serum and moved over to sit at his desk, and then he closed his eyes and just enjoyed the feeling of raw knowledge coursing through his veins. Euphoria hit as Tocryn's consciousness began to travel down familiar pathways of mind expanding thought. He chased his great idea through a vast library of thoughts and knowledge, and he could feel some of it was too terrible for anyone to comprehend. A sudden pounding in his head accompanied a series of dull booms, the sound amplified by the drug surging through his body. Tocryn was torn momentarily from his visions, yet they raged unabated. Flashes of sight and sound broke through his haze intermittently, never quite stealing his attention from the drug but searing themselves in his memory in their partiality: Pounding on the door of his library, indistinct yelling... His heart beating, he followed his vision through a vast room, past shelf after shelf... Screams, raised voices. A ground rumbling boom... He crouched down, peeking past books filled with dark and malevolent dreams, catching a glimpse of what he sought... Heat. Smoke. Tinkling glass as his windows break... There it was. A book lay open on the floor, a single shaft of light illuminating it's dark pages. His drug befouled state allowed for no thought as to what evil might have placed it there... Moving. Someone was screaming at him, words indistinct, dragging him towards the door. He leapt from behind his bookshelf, skidding across the floor as he reached for the book. As soon as his fingers touched it he could feel himself being drawn into the pages, images of magical runes and spells surging through his mind... Sunlight. Flashes of pain as he was dragged over broken glass and fire. He had a brief moment of clarity where he wished they had rescued some of his more important tomes and scrolls before... His body spasmed as he felt his hand ripped from the book's ancient pages, a being of darkness and shadow flinging him away and crouching possessively over the grimoire. He grimaced in pure need and rage as his hand came up, tracing out one of the runes in his mind and frost formed around his fist before a shard of ice flew at the creature... Dull pain as someone slapped his face. Jesmyl. Her face floated in his vision as she tried to wake him. So close to his goal, he swam away into his vision... Lust and need curdled over his tongue as he scrambled across the ground on all fours, reaching out to pluck the book back from the frozen shade. As soon as his fingers touched the book he felt his mind open once again, arcane knowledge coursing through his mind, the future opening before him like the petals of a flower... Piercing in his hand, as glass shards stuck out of his skin. His two boys, trying to pull their momma away from his mostly lifeless body... He had the secret, the theories and magic flowing through his mind as time and magic opened up to him in a rainbow of lights and sounds. His hands lovingly caressed the book as he felt the magic coursing through his veins... A dark figure stepping down off of a horse, naked sword in hand. Sword piercing through Jesmyl and cold burning as it pierces through her into him. Screams from his sons. He feebly tries to brush the binding threads of his vision away, his heart exploding in his chest, a frozen scream locked in his lungs by the drug still pounding in him... He distantly felt pain and loss as the small rational part of his mind told him his world was burning down around him. He felt a tearing inside of his mind as he began to struggle against the bonds the drug had over him, the dark talons of need and infatuation it had driven into his mind. He felt split in two as his breaking heart battled against the sickness in his mind... Darkness. Silence. Pain. His world had been stolen right in front of him and he had missed it, not lifted a finger. A finger. Adrenaline began to wash through him as he focused his emotions to force his rational mind to be present, to move the smallest muscle in his finger, to push through the drug fueled vision and just... MOVE! Tocryn stood up after a period of time, cradling his wife's cold body in his arms. He stood, teetering, almost falling over for a few moments, still fighting the influence of his serum. Serum. Cold logic and pain began to wipe the delusion from his mind. He had manufactured his own addiction, and killed his wife because of it. Grief bubbled up in his chest, and a series of long anguished screams burst forth from his mouth. Jesmyl was dead in his arms and he had been too high to do anything. She had died across his body, her blood and body likely protecting him from a similar fate. Rage and guilt struck him like a physical blow and Jesmyl's body tumbled from his arms. He scrabbled across the ground like an animal, grasping a piece of jagged glass and staring at it for a moment. He did not deserve to live after his betrayal of his wife. Two things stayed his hand. First, logic and rationality told him that he had not seen the bodies of his children yet. Second, small bits and pieces of magical theory and idea still blew around the broken emptiness in his mind, whispering words of dark hope. Magic could restore anything. He could find a way to bring her back. Tocryn moved heavily through the gutted and still burning ruins of his library and home. He gathered the supplies he would need, scavenging what he needed from the burned buildings around his village. As he worked, his calculating mind automatically registered what he was too afraid to acknowledge, each and every burned or battered corpse of his friends and neighbors. He would never forget. Never ever forget. OOC: That night Tocryn scribed his first spells into a book. Afterwards he buried his wife and all 57 other dead bodies, and then gathered what he could to prepare his journey. Before he left, Tocryn used a burning coal to burn the names of all of his family and friends into his own flesh. He harnessed the pain, using it to wall off his guilt and focus on his vengeance. He would find his sons, and he would find the ones responsible for this atrocity, and he would make them pay. As Tocryn travelled, he stopped to help as many people as he could. Any time he felt that he had done enough for someone that a friend or neighbor could rest in peace, Tocryn would brand over a name on his skin. RP Sample: "Please, there is no need to thank me ma'am. It was good for me to help you. Please, tell your son to be more careful next time. Some old things are not safe to play with." Tocryn bowed to the human woman, and then turned away to move back up the line of wagons. He walked quickly, trying to catch up to the second wagon to resume his habitual spot next to the driver, Geryl. Blessedly, Geryl was not one of those who felt the need to hear himself speak, so Tocryn and he got along well. Was that enough? Have I freed my obligation to one of them? I may have saved the boy's life, but there are others here who could have done the same. As he walked, Tocryn continued to debate with himself if this most recent deed was enough or not. One of the other travelers in the caravan had a small boy who ran alongside the wagons and the boy had found a small coin next to an old weathered plinth set low into the ground beside the road. When the boy had fallen down in convulsions several hours later, His mother called for Tocryn to come back and help. He had arrived on the scene as quickly as possible and immediately had begun casting the necessary spells to identify what magic the boy was affected by. Wherever the coin was from, it had contained a fairly nasty possession charm that had allowed the demon occupying the coin to jump into the child. Once he forced the demon out of the boy, a quick spell had taken care of the small imp and allowed the boy to be free. Tocryn absent mindedly rubbed the pad of his thumb along the strange markings on the coin in his pocket. This would bear more study later. "Break for eve camp! Break!" The call went down the line of wagons like a salmon jumping downstream, each wagoneer briefly taking up the call to inform the wagon behind them, and so on. As the process of halting, circling, and unloading necessary supplies from the wagons began for the evening, Tocryn wandered off into the woods beside the road they traveled. He whistled up into the trees and held one wrist out. The open position on his wrist was quickly filled as Jes flew down from the tree and landed on the leather strap he kept over his wrist. He patted the owl's head softly and then transferred it to his shoulder carefully. "Good girl. Rest now. I will call when I have need of you." He snapped his first two fingers together twice and then thrust his pinky finger up towards the owl and felt her weight disappear as Tocryn opened a small portal and she stepped through into her roost, kept in a small alternate dimension. He moved slowly through the woods, until he came upon what he was looking for. A small cave, no more than a crack in the side of a hill, opened up into a small secluded space. Tocryn checked it quickly before beginning to drag some underbrush and downed limbs inside for a fire. He spent some time building a hot fire and then he carefully removed a small strip of iron from his pouch. He laid the flat metal partially in the fire until it began to discolor from the heat. Checking around himself one last time to make sure he was alone, Tocryn spoke the words that had become almost ritual to him by this point. He went through the list of names slowly, his voice hitching when he came to hers. Then he raised one hand above his head and intoned, [b]"hear me, Runda, my penance is done. My crimes toward you will never be paid but yet I have done what I can to atone. If we meet in the afterlife, may your vengeance be swift knowing I have done what I can."[b] With a shaky hand, Tocryn reached down and took up the hot iron. His other hand pulled robes apart until Runda's name, carved low on his outer thigh, was visible, and then he pressed the iron down over the name. An involuntary moan of pain escaped through his clenched teeth, but he held the iron there until he was sure it had obliterated the name from his flesh. He laid back, dropping the strip of iron off to the side, and allowed the pain to consume his mind for a few moments. One more life that he felt he could remove from his conscience. Throughout this, Tocryn failed to notice the eyes watching him through a clever screen in the back of the cave...

[Begon Ugo]

Name: Zevlina Drassk

Gender/Race: Female/ Half-Drow
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Patron Deity: Kiaransalee
Class: Monk (The Long Death)
Background: Haunted One
Personality Trait 1: I think anyone who's nice to me is hiding evil intent.
Personality Trait 2: The best way to get me to do something is to tell me I can't do it.
Ideal: Retribution. The rich need to be shown what life and death are like in the gutters.
Bond: Something important was taken from me, and I aim to steal it back.
Flaw: I will never fully trust anyone other than myself.
Flaw: I'd rather kill someone in their sleep than fight fair.

Personality/Appearance: Zevlina commands attention when she sweeps into a room. Her Half-Drow heritage is plain to see as she makes no attempt to hide it. She has dusky skin, lighter than a full blood Dark Elf, but certainly darker than her sun worshipping kin. Her striking blue eyes are framed by the full mantle of stark white hair that falls down her shoulders to the small of her back. She is very well attired and it is obvious that she takes great pride in her appearance. In many respects she comes across as quite pleasant and even friendly. This is a ruse, as fools are disabused of this notion quickly, severely and usually quite permanently. Zevlina suffers no fools and she has inherited the drow proclivity for pain and pleasure in equal amounts.

Motivation: Freedom and revenge

 

Backstory: Zevlinsa was raised in the Dread Drow city of Menzoberranzan. By rights, as the mongrel daughter of a iblith woman captured during a surface raid on the Sword Coast, she should have been sacrificed immediately after birth. For reasons unknown, she was spared but the decision was anything but a mercy. She came of age in the wicked environs of the Dark Elf society watching as her mother was used as a reward for Drow warriors returning from deep patrols in the Underdark. Zevlinsa's capacity for hope was quickly extinguished in the soulless abyss that was Menzoberranzan. As she watched her mother slowly wither away from years of abuse, Zevlinsa found that she did not feel pity for her. No, it was instead anger that boiled to the surface. Anger that her mother accepted her fate. Anger that her mother never once, not even once, tried to escape her chains! Eventually the anger festered into true hate. She hated the weakness inherent in her mother and she was petrified that the weakness might exist in her as well. With the death of her mother, Zevlinsa was plunged into the unending wickedness of the city of Lloth. She survived by her wits or blade, alone, in the festering decrepitude that was the Stenchstreets. The torture and horrors that were visited upon the dobluth defied description.

Zevlinsa escaped from menzoberranzan in quite mundane fashion, signing onto a trading caravan heading to the surface. Unfortunately the caravan never made it to the surface. Waylaid less than a days journey from the surface by a raid conducted by a rival Drow city, Zevlinsa sits imprisoned, seething in anger and despair.

Role-Playing Sample: What was your character doing before being captured by the drow?

[Disaster Master]

Thank you very much for the last minute applications. I am reading them now.

[Disaster Master]

Applications are now closed! Will post my decision soon. Thanks for the many, many great ideas!

[Disaster Master]

The drow have finally made their decision whom they want to take into the Underdark.

Before I am going to announce the misfortunate souls, however, let me say that I was overwhelmed by the vast number of outstanding applications. Had I the time of running two campaigns in parallel, I would immediately have selected twelve instead of six applications as all your proposed characters deserve to come to life.

Unfortunately, I don't have the time for DMing more than one campaign at the moment, so I had to make a tough choice. With so many excellent applications, it was impossible to rank the applications just by quality. So I took other factors into account as well. I wanted the mix of races, of genders, of personalities, and of classes both be somewhat balanced and refreshing. I wanted a few experienced players but also wanted to give newcomers a chance. At one point I even rolled dice to make a decision.

During the decision process, I contemplated very different party compositions, but at some point, I had to come to a conclusion. So if your character was not selected, please don't worry too much and, please, don't take it personally. With so many application, in the end, it was necessarily a bit a game of luck. I can emphasize with you about having put a ton of work into a character which you have started to love only to find out that I haven't selected you. What we can do is to ask in the Players-Seeking-Games thread whether there is another DM who likes to run Out of the Abyss. This DM could quickly assemble a great adventuring party from all those excellent applications I couldn't pick in the end.

To cut a long story short, here are the six characters that were captured by the drow and whose fate will be at the dark elves' mercy: Bormor, Brimley, Dorlamin, Katarina, Maylene, Nadidah. You six, please head to the game forum, take a look around and say hello in the OOC chat.

And to everyone: Thank you very much for these excellent applications and characters ideas indeed. It was a lot of fun to read through all these applications and to discuss them with you.

-- DM

[Disaster Master]

Advertisement The campaign has been running for over a year now. In the meantime, the characters, who started at first level, have reached level four. Four of the six players that were initially invited to the campaign are still active and regular posters since then. Together with a fifth player, who is already part of the group since almost a year now, the adventuring party currently consists of five characters. We would like to increase the party size to six. Therefore: We are looking for one more player to join the current team. If you are interested to join us in Out of the Abyss, great! Please check that the following points apply to you: I have taken a look at the game forums and I like how the campaign has been role-played so far. I have a great character concept that fits the existing party and I have fallen in love with it. I have read the original announcement at the beginning of this thread and the house rules and I agree to them. I understand that the campaign will still take several years of real-time before it is over. My life is stable so that it is likely that I will be able to be part of this campaign until its very end. I am normally able to post 5 times per week, not only now but also in a month and in a year. I am a nice person and like to meet other nice persons. I am able to distinguish between IC and OOC. So these points are applicable to you? Wonderful! Please post your character application here. If you have already applied for this campaign when it was initially advertised, you can, of course, re-use your character concept. The new deadline is: 19 May 2019, 3:00 p.m. UTC. I will consider all applications posted here until then. Feel free to ask whatever you would like to know.

[Wretched Rick]

DM, I'm interested in applying for that open spot. Just a couple questions: what thread do I roll my stats in? And: Am I rolling a character that begins at level 4?

[Disaster Master]

Originally Posted by Wretched Rick

DM, I'm interested in applying for that open spot. Just a couple questions: what thread do I roll my stats in? And: Am I rolling a character that begins at level 4?

Thanks for your interest!

We are using point-buy (27 points), so you don't have to roll for your stats. Hit points are maximum at first level and half the maximum (rounded up) at all other levels.

Indeed, you would start as a level 4 character (with standard equipment).

[Disaster Master]

I should add that the group is currently heading to a duergar city in the Underdark, so the new character will be probably met there.

There are plenty of reasons why a member of a surface race could be found there.

[Wretched Rick]

An Extremely Hopeful I made the mistake of playing the character I most wanted to play in Tower of the Newbie (I mean Mage?). I just translated it into a 4th lvl elven version of itself for this game. I've looked through some game posts and REALLY appreciate the way this game is being RP'd. I WANT IN! I don't know if I'm supposed to say this, but I was referred by secretId. He's been a DM for me in the last few months and I'm excited at the prospect of being able to play beside him. Also, I JUST WANT IN! I've got a wood elf monk character for you to look at and I hope you like it. It was a conversion from a 1st level human, but I think I did it right. I'm more into RP than min/maxing (and that shows in my chosen Kensei weapons), but I don't ignore strategy/tactics - so I hope that will work out. You were a little unclear what you were looking for in an application, but I would be happy to provide more on request. Please let me know if you're looking for something else or have any questions. Just please keep in mind that I'm an intelligent player and I post daily, but never ghost. Just ask secretID if you want confirmation on that. I'm hoping you're not after a flamboyantly giant application, but everything - or links to everything - is here. This link is to my first adventure following tower of the newbie and reflects my RP style somewhat. It is still ongoing, and I've lost some faith in it (as there's always something happening in someone's PL to keep it moving at a corpse dragging speed), but I haven't and won't ghost it. Since I'm a subscriber, I get an email notification that someone's posted 2 to 3 times a week (one person!).   https://www.rpgcrossing.com/showthre...36#post8161036 Considering my character's background, there's lots of easy ways to incorporate him into the Duegar city - good and bad. BTW, I have the posting rate you're looking for and don't ghost on games.

 

http://www.rpgcrossing.com/profiler/view.php?id=76989

 

Raised in a monastery from a toddler, Walker was given into the charge of Petri - a young monk who seemed to have trouble maintaining the quiet monastic lifestyle since puberty - in an attempt to settle him down and get him to embrace responsibility. Petri would take Walker on 2 to 3 day hiking trips through the mountains surrounding the monastery, which is how he developed his love of nature and travelling. He took so well to the arduous journeys at such a young age, Petri began calling him Walker, a moniker that was quickly embraced over his birth name: Erasmus. Walker too, had less trouble maintaining the quiet monastic discipline of life than Petri, but eventually gave into the wanderlust instilled in him after many years.
After leaving his monastery, he shared a camp with a fellow traveler his first night after reaching a major highway and they talked at the campfire long into the night. He was a cartographer and seemed to think Walker possessed all the necessary prerequisites for the profession - his love of travel, reading / writing and calligraphy skills, as well as his aptitude for spacial awareness his monk training had instilled in him. Walker was immediately taken with the idea and the cartographer sponsored his apprenticeship in the guild.
Since then, Walker has been travelling to any and every exotic place that he hears about.. He'd found that buying (or especially finding) and selling rare items was a great way to fund his travels, as map making had not yet proven financially lucrative.

[Bluejack]

Whispering Lock (Lock), Tabaxi Rogue Swashbuckler Name: Whispering Lock (Lock) Race: Tabaxi Alignment: Chaotic Good Patron Deity: Azul, the Tabaxi God of Rain and Water Class: Rogue (Swashbuckler) Background: Outlander/Slave Personality Traits: 1. I watch over my friends as if they were a litter of newborn kittens. 2. I'm always picking things up, absently fiddling with them, and sometimes accidentally breaking them. Ideal: It is each person's responsibility to help others and help the tribe. Bond:I will hurt the drow and duegar who have captured and enslaved me. I hate them intensely. Flaw: My slavery has made me distrust authority and other underdark races. Tabaxi Quirk:You miss your tropical home and complain endlessly about the freezing weather, even in summer. Appearance: Lock is tall and stocky for a tabaxi. His strength has diminished during his time in the under dark, particularly in the Duergar city of Gracklstugh. He remains extremely nimble, even for his race. Lock paces like a tired panther after breathing in the fumes of the dark dwarven city. When he is not enslaved, Whispering Lock wears oiled studded leathers and high hard leather boots (tabaxi design with no soles). He is considered handsome by tabaxi standards with a dark black pelt and a shine to his fur. His markings are minimal, though he does have some grey whiskers and tuffs of hair near his ears. At this point, Lock has multiple scars along his back, and his left ring finger has been removed. Lock wields a rapier or short sword, and he wields a parrying dagger when able. Personality: Once a lively tabaxi with a dry wit, the time in the Underdark has slowly worn down Lock. He was originally from Chult and displayed the curiosity and wonder that tabaxi often show. He left home with his friend Olma Dane, a mercenary of the Irregular Company from Phandalin and Neverwinter. The tabaxi became worldly and his eyes were opened even more to the splendors of Faerun. Since his capture first by the drow, and then after his trade to the duergar of Gracklstugh, Lock has become more sullen and fatalistic. He trusts very few people. He has learned to stay mostly quiet while suppressing his urges as a tabaxi. When he is with the very few people he trusts, Lock is loyal and supportive. He will take risks for those who have earned his trust. Motivation: Lock is motivated by first his escape, and then vengeance upon the drow and duergar who have taken so much from him. He will seek to harm them to the best of his abilities. He is a strong swordsman and thief, and he will use those skills to fight the drow and duergar's influence on the surface world. History: The Jungles of Chult: deadly to some, home for the Tabaxi. Whispering Lock was first Drops in the Cloth as a child. He collected the clean water from the rain catchers in the canopies of the jungle, and there he learned his love of the rain god, Azul. And it was good to love Azul, as the land of Chult was filled with rain and water. Most tabaxi hated it, but not Lock, he had learned to love the droplets. He was better at catching rain than many of the adults. But eventually children grow to adults, and the Wandering was upon him. Lock was tasked with joining Olma Dane, the archeologist-ranger. They adventured together and were guides to the Lost City of Omu. They worked in Chult and formed a fast friendship. Olma taught Lock how to fight with a rapier, and Lock taught Olma how to survive int he Jungle of Chult. They stayed together until Olma was called back from exile and traveled to Neverwinter. Per his elders, Lock was tasked to join Olma. Once there, Lock learned from Coin of the Irregulars how to pick locks, steal important documents or goods, and move quietly through city streets. Though he was always cold in Neverwinter, he had a purpose: serve the Dane family and the Irregulars as a mercenary for hire. He was happy with that. The Irregulars had principles, and they vetted their jobs carefully. They were all the good things the Zentarim were not. On a mission along the Triboar Trail while fighting the Many Arrows Tribe of orcs, Lock was taken by a mysterious band. These drow captured the dashing swordsman and thief. They beat and scarred his back. They took him only half aware into the Underdark. The drowse sold him at Gracklstugh to a Duergar master named Gzi as a curio. His mind dulled, his muscle lost to poor food and smoke, Lock waited. He waited. And one day, his fortune turned. Role-Playing Sample: "Git up yah fur-ball!" Gzi was loud with the wake-up call and quick with the lash, so Lock rolled off his pile of dirty straw and stood at a crouch. The duergar master turned the key to the tabaxi's gilded cage. Whispering Lock was the highlight of the slaver's shop, a real curio from the surface. Very few duergar had ever seen a cat-man, and the reasonable condition of Lock was maintained only because of that. The rest of the slaves fared much worse. The duergar shop in the Slaver's District of Gracklstugh was hot and smoky, as was the rest of this infernal city. Since Lock had come to the capital of the dark dwarves he hadn't complained once about the heat. It was very similar to Chult, really. But the smoke. The Smoke! Lock was constantly coughing and hacking upon gunk. If he didn't escape this place, he would be dead. And maybe dead was better. Better than rotting away down here. No rain, no sky, no trees. Azul, please help me! The Tabaxi kept his face plain. He showed no teeth. Lock didn't snarl. His tail didn't sway or curl. He was an obedient slave, for now. But the time would come. He would look for it. The cage was easy. He could pick a lock with a claw easily, even with the skill these duergar showed with smithing. But then what? The punishment would be severe. So he waited. And he bowed to Gzi. Then he helped to feed the slaves, or wash some of them. He even buried those that died. The tabaxi put each and every face into his mind. While he cared for them, he gave slight touches and hands of care. He could not save them yet. One day he would have his swords, or his rapier. And he would kill slavers, he would stop surfacers from being taken. He would kill many drow. Many. "Yer done good today, mange cat." Gzi was a pimple of a duergar, small and crafty. How he survived had first been beyond the thief, but when the duergar had a bugbear remove one of Lock's fingers for insolence, he knew. No, not insolence, Lock had fiddled with a bauble and broken it. A porcelain pot. That was it. And Gzi was ruthless, Gzi held power. So today, the same as many other days, Lock was pushed into his heart. He hid there. Lock kept the slave safe. Even while the burly panther that was Lock died on the outside. Inside he was still strong. He was Lock. "Be...ready..." "That's right, mange cat. Be ready for whatever Gzi needs." "Be...ready..."Oh yes, he would be ready. Lock was ready.