[D&D-5e] Tomb of Annihilation

[jbear]

Some fantastic apps coming in. Damn. This is going to be hard!

[PalladiaMors]

Friendly Neighborhood Necromancer Name: Naeriah Evermoor Race: Half-elf Class: Necromancer (wizard) Background: Sage (wizard's apprentice) Trait: Dusty old tomes aren't everything. You can learn as much from people as you can from books, probably more so. Ideal: The journey matters more than the destination. Existence is full of destinations but the journey is never-ending. Bond: Death is but one step in the journey of existence. I must ensure that step is handled properly and with reverence. Flaw: Most people fear death, but I am eager to study it.   Naeriah is an attractive young woman of mixed human and elven heritage, taking after her human side more than elven in terms of her looks. She has a slender frame, slightly pointed ears, and violet eyes, but her features lack the delicate, chiseled appearance typically associated with elves. She's taller, curvier, and has a darker complexion than the typical elf as well. Naeriah has black hair tinged with silver, from her elven ancestry rather than age as she is quick to point out, as another sign of her fey heritage. Naeriah's voice is typically upbeat and cheerful, bordering on bubbly, which catches most others off guard should they be aware of her magical specialty. She is quick with a smile and her eyes sparkle with exuberance which only serves to further the confusion. She disdains the black robes adorned with skulls typically associated with her craft, favoring grey and white outfits that aren't afraid to flaunt her assets a bit. It amuses her to have a practitioner of the "dark arts" be alluring to the living.   Naeriah hails from the small village of Silverwood, located in the Dales on the border between elven and human lands. While many such areas are wrought with contention between the two races, Silverwood has long stood as a model of cooperation between the two races. What started as a simple trading post a little over a hundred and fifty years ago quickly grew into a prosperous town and it has steadily grown since then. The human folk were willing to take guidance from the elves when it came to logging, cutting down only the trees that the elves directed to be expendable, and with the elves' guidance it wasn't long before the humans were able to make such distinctions themselves. The elves were able to learn much from human ingenuity and while other parts of the world might have conflict between elf and man, Silverwood has enjoyed a long period pf peace. Many half-elves have resulted as a result of this peace, and while such offspring might be shunned or scorned elsewhere, they are seen as a blessing in Silverwood. Naeriah was one such offspring, born of an elven wizardess who had semi-retired from service with the Harpers and a human woodsman who had been her adventuring companion for years before romance began to bloom between them. Naeriah was the couple's second child, with her brother Erevan taking after their father and his woodcraft.While her childhood was happy, when her father passed away due to what was essentially the frail mortality of humans compared to elves, it struck her deeply. She learned at a relatively young age the harsh lesson that death comes for everyone eventually, sooner for humans than others. Death was the one constant in life, though the elders taught her that it wasn't a bad thing. It was a necessary step in life's journey, and was part of the balance and cycle. Naeriah had already been studying magic under her mother's tutelage, and after some time spent with the druids of the nearby wood, she decided to focus her studies on the counter aspect of life - death. Not to bring it about in an unnatural way, not for cruelty or malice, but to help the dead reach a proper state of rest and to bring solace to the living left behind. The journey from life to death could be perilous sometimes, especially in turbulent lands or times, and she took it upon herself to be a guide and guardian for the dead, as well as an enemy to those who would abuse the natural cycle of life and death. Shortly after finishing her magical training her brother Erevan was killed while investigating a cult of Malar that had begun to creep into the surrounding woods. Though the cult wax eradicated it was not without cost. Unwilling to lose her eldest child so soon after losing her husband, Naeriah's mother called in a favor from a priestess of Mielikki who was still with the Harpers to have him resurrected. All seemed well initially but it didn't take long for the curse to afflict Erevan. Where he was a strong, healthy ranger before his death, since his resurrection he had become to grow weak and sickly, seemingly withering away. This condition only served to hasten Naeriah's devotion to the necromantic arts as she sought an answer on her own, but to no avail. When the Harpers caught wind of a lead on the cause of the curse they made contact with Naeriah's mother, Aleana, trying to get any help they could. Unfortunately Aleana was unable to help them this time, as she was too busy caring for her ailing son. But knowing that her daughter had some expertise in the matter offered to send her in her place. She knew that once Naeriah heard of a possible lead in saving her brother she would follow up on it anyway, it was better, thought Aleana, for her to have the backing of the Harpers as she did so rather than go off alone. When the Harper band she was a part of was ambushed and slain she was badly wounded but survived. The lich responsible was surveying the battlefield looking for survivors and found Naeriah but paused rather than finish her off. Something about the half-elven woman amused her, the way she dabbled in forces she barely understood. No, best to let this one live that she may learn, thought the lich as she moved on to the next of the Harpers.

[Astra]

Posting interest if there's still room.

[Admin Bhelogan]

Originally Posted by astra

Posting interest if there's still room.

My guess would be yes. The more great apps we throw in here, the harder we can make it on jbear to choose! Working on my character's backstory, but I think I have the rest of it finalized.

[Astra]

For me finding the portrait is the obstacle. For whatever reason I can't start until I find one that matches the theme of what I want to play.

[VaultDweller]

I'm interested too, if you don't mind a newbie tagging along. When are you going to be making the final decision, or did I miss that post along the way?

[VaultDweller]

The new elf on the block Name: Riardon Moonwhisper Race: High Elf Class: Paladin Alignment: Neutral Good Personality Traits: I have a strong sense of fair play and always try to find the most equitable solution to arguments. If someone is in trouble, I am always ready to lend help. Ideals: Respect. People deserve to be treated with dignity and respect. (Good) Bonds: I protect those who cannot protect themselves. Flaws: The people who knew me when I was young know my shameful secret, so I can never go home again. Background: As a young elf, Riardon was not quite like other elves. He was very selfish and cared very little for the lessons of communing with nature and whatnot. He was a bit of a prankster, and went from village to village playing jokes on his fellow elves. He constantly needed more excitement though, so his pranks became more and more elaborate and dangerous. One night, he planned on scaring a family friend’s two small children by pretending he was part of a raiding party of orcs trying to take over the village. He had torches set up next to the house that he had rigged to all be lit together, but something went terribly wrong. When he pulled the rope to light the torches, instead the house was set ablaze! Horrified, he thought about going in and rescuing the family, but thought otherwise because he feared it would make him look suspicious. He watched as the father pulled his family from the burning home one by one, as a small crowd began to gather. The father went back in a third time, and brought out another girl, who was limp and not moving. He was screaming for help, that the girl was not breathing. Sadly, it seemed there was nothing anyone could do. Riardon looked on in horror as he realized it was his baby sister! He had not known she would be at the house tonight! Frantic and on the verge of hyperventilating, he was at a loss of what to do. Then, out of the smoke, a cleric appeared and knelt down next to the girl. He laid his hands on her head, and Riardon saw a warm glow surround them both. The little girl sat up, coughing, and in the next moment, Riardon’s parents had rushed over to her. This shook Riardon to his core. He knew he would never be forgiven if the truth of what happened came out, and he could never forgive himself for nearly killing his own sister, or anyone else for that matter. He left the elven lands in a form of self exile, to spend his years trying to atone for his misdeed. He was constantly haunted by the vision of his sister being pulled from the fire. In his dreams, sometimes the cleric did not arrive in time, but still the girl would sit up. She would look at him with vacant eyes, point to him hiding, and scream a hideous scream, alerting the village to his presence. He vowed to himself that he would never again do anything that could harm an innocent person. In his travels, he came across an old human man that looked as though he was down on his luck. Riardon offered to buy the man a meal, and together they traveled into the city of Baldur’s Gate to find a place to eat. The man introduced himself as Davin, a former cleric. Riardon wondered how one could be a “former” cleric, but he did not press for information. Davin thanked him for his kindness, and the two began a long conversation. Riardon used what coin he had to give them both a room at one of the inns, and they proceeded to spend the better part of a month together. Eventually, Riardon began to ask him questions about his past. Davin told Riardon that he had been a member of the Order of the Gaunlet, an organization of clerics and paladins that fought to vanquish evil from the land. Riardon took to Davin’s teachings like a sponge, deciding that the cause of the Order matched up with his own desire to protect innocent lives. After asking Davin’s blessing, Riardon made his way to find the Order and ask for inclusion. Little did he know what that decision would ultimately cost him….

[Admin Bhelogan]

Application It might not be the best art, but it is original Name: Svaly Cliffrock Race: Halfling (Ghostwise) Class: Monk (Intent to go Way of the Sun Soul) Background: Clan Outcast (tweaked Outlander) BITFS: Developed in the background narrative. Will fill out discretely, if selected, later Apperance: Svaly looks like a regularly proportioned, if not slightly tall and lanky human. The biggest problem with that description is that he is all of three feet tall. He has a wild look accented by extra sharp canines that give him a somewhat feral appearance. Brown mopy hair models stiles popular in Neverwinter among the bards that cater to teenage birthday parties. The rest of his traveling garb is minimalistic. A big smile and deep blue eyes help bring some civility to his appearance. Personality: The traits that have kept Ghostwise halflings a secret to the world, being seclusive, un-adventures, reserved and untrusting, are the exact opposite of the characteristics that Svaly posses. This in large part, led to his expulsion from his Tribe. Svaly is talkative, inquisitive, outgoing, friendly and quick to trust others. Customs and laws can seem strange to him, but he always tries to do what is right, guided by a strong moral compass. He is fearless in the face of danger, often to his own determent. He also tries to see the best in people. He is keenly aware of his own awkwardness, so never takes offense to those who give him strange scornful looks on first introductions. It would be a mistake to take his light-heartedness to mean he isn't serious though. Once sword to a cause he believes in, nothing (short of a 4' tall wall) will get in his way, or persuade him to choose another path. Background Narative Youth Svaly knew quickly he didn't fit in well with the Cliffrock tribe. He was too... curious about the world around him. Their clan was named after the large cliffs near the forest they inhabited. The Cliffrock clan were, like most Ghostwise halflings, isolationists. Friendly and cheerful, wanting to make friends with his neighbors of the woods, and see the world might have been well received in most halfling villages. Being the nephew of the chief though, put a spotlight on Svaly's excursions outside of town, and he was given an ultimatum. Stay put, or be exiled. Svaly didn't take the threat seriously and was out before long visiting with some nearby elves. To save face, his Uncle had to follow through on the threat, and Svaly was cast out of the clan, told never to return. It seemed like a harsh punishment to the youngster, but it was also a lesson to him. When someone had enough, believe them. Don't push. He wasn't bitter or mad about the situation, though. It just gave him an opportunity to go explore the world full time. A Friend in Need On rare occasion, two people meet and realize instantly that they click. Sometimes they click so well that it would be hard for them to be apart. Such was the case when Svaly met a lovely goliath woman names Chary. Despite being nearly five feet taller than Svaly, the two became instant friends (and insisted that friends were all they were) when they met on the road. Chary was on a hunt for a massive boar, and Svaly happened to have seen the creature just before the pair crossed paths. They tracked the beast down to a cave, the entrance much too small for Chary to fit into. Svaly just happened to be the right size to squeeze in though and flush the boar out. What happened over the next few days is disputed, each telling a different story, but eventually, the pair set out on the road again, determined to find adventure and help those in need along the way. For Chary, having a quick, nimble and friendly traveling companion was great company. Svaly provided a strong moral compass, and Chary, well Chary could see over fences and walls that Svaly couldn't. The Harpers? On the road to Waterdeep, Svaly and Chary ran into a merchant caravan that was under ambush by hobgoblins. With Svaly's promptings, the pair rushed to aid the outnumbered caravan guards. Chary was filled with the rage of a Barbarian, and was fearsome in combat. Svaly was nimble, quick, and cause a lot of confusion for such a little guy. Working together, along with the caravan guards, the ambushers were repelled. Refusing to accept more than a token payment as a reward, Svaly and Chary impressed one of the guards, who happened to be a member of the Harpers. He wrote them an introductory letter and asked them to visit Remallia Haventree once they reached the city. Given the account of what happened, and what was written in the letter, the pair were inducted into the Harpers, and given charge to do good and fight evil wherever they may travel. A fateful Day A few years after their induction, while traveling near Baulder's Gate, Svaly and Chary received notification that the Harpers needed them. It was going to be a dangerous mission, one which might cost them their lives. Chary didn't want to go. It wasn't mandated for them too. But Svaly pushed her to it, reminding her of their oath to do good. He wasn't scared. They had each other's backs, and Svaly was sure they would make it through whatever task was given them. He should have been shaken though when he learned that they were being used to cause a distraction. To assault a Litch's lair. Still, he had faith that the cause must have been good, and that the plan wouldn't need them to throw their lives away like pawns. Trying to hold to that faith, yet questioning those decisions were racking Svaly's thoughts as he lay dying on the ground. He was wounded, a skeleton warrior had run a rusty blade through his leg. Chary stood over the halfling, protecting him with all of her might and rage. It was a last stand worthy of a bards song, but alas, a curse flew through the woods and struck Chary in the back. She dropped dead, crushing Svaly beneath her.... "At least we are together," Svaly thought, unable to draw breath. As his vision faded, a flash of blue light appeared not far off, bringing travelers from the depths below. It must have been those sent to find the phylactery. A happy thought at the end. They had succeeded!

[Silk]

Wow, there are a lot of great character post's here. I'll see about coming up with something tomorrow...maybe . I am new to 5th edition, but I have bought the book just last week. Haven't had time to do more then glance at it as I have been working long hours at work.

If I don't have something up by the time jbear chooses, good luck with the game everyone

[Silk]

Well I managed to get a character made. Enjoy

Character Concept Picture of Tiffa Anglan Name: Tiffa Anglan Race: Female Tiefling Age: 19 Class: Sorcerer Alignment: Chaotic Good Background: Outlander (homesteader) Role: Big Boom-Boom! Personality Traits: I place no stock in wealthy or well-mannered folk. Money and manners won't save you from a hungry owlbear. Ideals: Change: Life is like the seasons, in constant change, and we must change with it. Bonds: My family is the most important thing in my life, even when they are far from me. Flaws: I am slow to trust members of other races, tribes, and societies. Description: As Tieflings go, Tiffa is quite noticeable for a Tiefling. Having a bright red skin tone tends to do that. The solid silver eyes, canine teeth, dark purple hair, and a pair of curling antelope horns might also make her quite noticeable. It's only when you get closer that you notice the fine scales across her forearms, shins, hips, shoulders, chest, lower back and forehead. In a vain effort to not be as noticeable, Tiffa wears red cloths, the same color of her skin and has her hood up and stay's at least ten feet away from strangers when she encounters them. Background: Tiffa did not want to watch her mother Erena die again...not like this, slowly wasting away. The first time was because of her when she was much younger, and so this time was her fault also. Back then, scared commoners in Baldur's Gate did not like a Tiefling "spawn" amongst them. Griff Hartten, who she was apparently named after, was there back then to bring her mother back and he was here now. Only he could not cure what was killing her now. Nor would he be able to raise her from the dead after what was killing her finished it's slow job. She was in her room in their small log cabin house and was watching as Griff talked with her mother. Her father Melech was outside taking out his rage and greef on pieces of defenseless wood. He was a Tiefling like his daughter and they both blamed themselves for Erena's first death. But even with the loud whacks from out side and the quiet nature of the conversation in the other room, Tiffa could hear what was being said from where she was. "Tell..<chough><chough> tell me what is happening Griff. I'm still a Harper even if I have retired to raise a family. <chough> I-I'm dying. I wish to know." The large human sighed, "First, I contacted a Priestess that is responsible for a cemetery half a day's ride from Baldur's Gate. They will be bringing one of those silver caskets I told you about in a few days." Erena coughed some more before staring at the man and said, "Tell me." He sighed and almost seemed to cry before explaining the plan the Harpers came up with. Tiffa was shocked out of her greef at hearing they were going to do "that" to a Litch of all things, just so they could ask it a question. Even Tiffa has heard of the Duchess of Rot. As Griff explained he had to leave if he was going to make it in time, Tiffa made a decision that changed her life. Packing as quickly and as quietly as possible, she put her pack and supply's outside her window that was on the back of the house. She thought, 'Hopefully father doesn't go around back for any reason.' before heading out to speak with her mother. Griff was just getting ready to leave when her mother, upon seeing Tiffa, asked him to stay just a moment to witness. What he witnessed was Erena give her daughter a small tarnished pin. It was in the shape of a Harp. Griff sighed, "After I'm done with my duty, I'll come back and begin her training." With that he gave Tiffa a somber look and left. Tiffa soon left too, giving her mother a kiss and telling her father that she was going to go out to watch the horses run. Where they lived, out in the wilderness, was surrounded by trees. Half an hours walk north was a clearing where wild horses lived and ran. Less then five minutes after jogging north she came back quietly and gathered her things. She knew the path Griff had to take to head back to Baldur's Gate, and she easily outpaced him. An hour later, when he spotted her sitting on a fallen tree, he was of course surprised and then very angry. She just weathered his angry shouts and ignored his commands. When he gave an ultimatum that he would magic her back up to her cabin, her skin darkened a deep red in anger of her own, and she said, "No! And if you do magic me, I'll just turn and around start following you again! I'm prity good at tracking you know." She set her jaw and looked stubbornly at him. Tiffa was not prepared to see the man to crumple into him self in greef. She could not know that Griff was once one of her mothers suitors before Melech won Erena's heart. She could not know that he was still madly in love with her. She could not know, even with the Tiefling racial traits she possessed, that she looked exactly like Erena did when she was being stubborn. She could not know that he resented Melech and Tiffa for being Tieflings and getting Erena killed in the first place, and she could not know Griff hated himself greatly for feeling that way. He slowly got control of himself and wiped the tears away. Deciding he had to try one more time he looked sternly at her, "Your mother and father brought you out here to hide you. Those scales on your arms and face are not a Tiefling racial trait. You get that from your mothers Draconic heritage. If you ever showed the power your mother has.. Tiffa interrupted him, "I do." Griff's mouth gaped open in surprise. "About a year now. I hid it from mother and father so they wouldn't fret." He closed his mouth and his eyes as he let out a mighty sigh before continuing, "Then people will fear you more." Tiffa walked closer to him and stared him in the eye. "Then let them fear me. I'll burn the world down if it will bring back my mother." That seemed to make him grin, "I think your forgetting the founding Tenants of the Harper's. Just how much do you remember from the story's your mother and father told you?" Looking down and blushing a brite pink, Tiffa said, "N-not much. I thought they were just that, story's." Abruptly walking past Tiffa he said, "Then I guess the walk to Baldur's Gate will be educational for you." Tiffa frowned at him as he passed her and she thought, 'He almost sounds happy.' Then it struck her, "Does that mean I can come with you?" He grinned back at her, "Well, I'm not magicking you am I? She grabbed her stuff from besides the fallen tree and raced after him. Battle Aftermath: Tiffa came to consciousness feeling a searing pain all over her left side and a ringing in her ears. The palm of her left hand seemed to be on fire but it was only smoldering from where she tried to desperately block the blast of flames with her bare hand. She would laugh if it wouldn't hurt so much. She remembered playing with the kitchen fire and only getting a little bit of reddened skin. Well redder. She whimpered as the pain came in waves, ebbing and flowing, as she looked for Griff. She stayed by him like he said too. 'Where is he?' She could not see him. Past a burning corpse of a skinny fallen Harper, Tiffa saw people talking. She focused on the group facing off against one person in black. As her hearing slowly came back, she heard the one in black finish speaking, "Veral Olo, bring me the book and then ask your questions." Eyes widening, she recognized the voice. "Zaldaraaaaggh!" Her fear had caused her to jerk and pull painfully on her burns. The ringing was back and she gritted her teeth in pain. Slowly she could hear a shout, then a smattering of talking, and then Zaldara's voice again, "...knight I hope to see him again one day." Realizing they had succeeded, Tiffa looked up to the sky and smiled, "We did it mother. The crazy plan of theirs worked." She closed her eye's, knowing the quest was not over yet, but content for the moment to escape her pain into unconsciousness.

• I do not know if Harpers can get there kids into the secret guild like I portrayed, but it sounded good.
• I figured I would leave it up to jbear to decide if the cleric Griff Hartten is still alive, wounded, or fried to a crisp.
• I have not played Tomb of Annihilation before. The name is not familiar. Until a few months ago I have not played D&D for 11 years....unless it's a remake from an older module.
• I am also willing to commit to a long term game.

[jbear]

Originally Posted by VaultDweller

I'm interested too, if you don't mind a newbie tagging along. When are you going to be making the final decision, or did I miss that post along the way?

Yeah, I said asap, as I would like to make my selection early this next week. I did receive a request via PM however for a tiny bit more time so I will delay my decision until Wednesday. I'm both looking forward to it and dreading it.

Thank you for the awesome responses so far guys.

[Insacrum]

Application Crunchy Bits Name: Taurri Stellaur Race: Gnome Class: Wizard (Possible Specializations - Necromancy or Illusion) Alignment: Lawful Neutral (Will possibly swing between Good and Evil) Background: Haunted One Trait: I don't talk about the thing that torments me. I'd rather not burden others with my curse. Ideal: I like to know my enemy's capabilities and weaknesses before rushing into battle. Bond: There's evil in me, I can feel it. It must never be set free (or should it?). Flaw: I talk to spirits that no one else can see (himself). A Scarred Battlefield ~~~ A Scarred Battlefield~~~ Peace. That’s all he ever wanted out of life, and now he finally had it. Peace. It was bliss and flowers and bubbling brooks. "RAWR!" No! That isn’t peace. Taurri Stellaur wanted sleep. Eternal slumber. He had his peaceful death. No more pain. No more suffering. No more confusion. He had it all now. "GRAH!" No! He didn’t want that. He wanted his peace! But he was quickly approaching the thing in front of him. This must be the Soulmonger. The eater of souls. And He was next. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to go to fields of green, and waters pure. This thing was an abomination of life. A spirit of undeath. A beast unimaginable. "MORE!!!!" ~~~ "Cough… cough…" The blood welled up in his lungs, and out of his mouth. Taurri could feel it bubble up, and out of his month. "Craff…Hriss!" He was struggling to breathe. He was alive. He hadn’t been eaten. Destroyed. Consumed in the afterlife. He was alive. Then the pain came. And the suffering. His side hurt. His entire side. The intensity of it only worsening with each move; with each breathe. He moved the one thing that didn’t seem to instantly hurt, and he saw why. His arm was a charred wreck. His fingers barely attached. But they were there, and moving slightly. He couldn’t stop the moaning from coming out of his mouth. It was involuntary. Breathe in, try not to take in blood. Breath out, his vocal cords vibrating of their own accord. Wheeze, gasp, breathe… live. It seemed that he was alive. In a way. His thoughts of peace and serenity quickly fading. But he could hear. Hear the arguing. Hear the pleading, hear the questioning. His one good eye was able to look upon the form of Lady Zaldara. She was the one who did all this destruction. Or was she? The Harpers had brought this on. Did they need to instigate her wrath? All this to garner answers to unknown questions. Answers that weren’t even answers themselves. Was it all worth it? Was his life worth it? Was anyone’s? Classes, classes, and other stuff. "OK everyone, books away. Time for some practical applications." 'Schooling... who needs all of this. Just show us the spells, and we can go on from there.' The students began to gather around the instructor. Some more enthusiastic than others. "Okay wart, show me what you got." The request was given, and the spells began to be thrown. The student trying to outwit the master, but the master always getting the better of the student. Until... Everyone was upside down, even the student himself. "Interesting approach. Not only did you manage to disable your target, but also yourself, and from the looks of things, all of the by-standards in the area." The student couldn't help but smile... until the teacher managed to get out with a simple knife cutting here and there. "But now, you seem to be caught, as well as everyone else here. You might have been able to catch me briefly, and yes you did what you set out to accomplish. But at what cost? And, what result? What if that had been a fireball? Or a cloudkill?" The teacher approached the student, knife extended. "You might have won the battle, but you've lost the war." With a quick slash... nothing. Then everyone dropped. "Remember this. Every action has a reaction. What will that reaction breed? Death and destruction? Life and liberty? Knowledge and power? What are you trying to accomplish? What are you trying to leave behind in your wake?" No, he was thinking wrong. It wasn’t 'if' their lives were worth the information. Was the information worth the loss of life around him? Souls now flowing directly to the Soulmonger. He wasn’t one of them, but the others around him. The dead and dying. They weren’t supposed to be dead. They were just supposed to be the help. Run information to the heavy hitters. Mage hand out potions. Just be the support for those in the know. That didn’t last long. And Zaldara figured it out quick. She started hitting the supply lines and ignoring those on the front lines. This was war, and she was a master compared to whom the Harpers sent. "Cough… Wheeze!" Breathing shouldn’t be this hard. But he was breathing. And Zaldara wasn’t killing anymore. That was good. She might be power corrupted, but there was still a sliver of humanity there. Power with purpose. Whatever her twisted purpose might be. And the dragonling. There must be something there for the taking. Something that can force her hand. But this group with her book, they were too week to force it. The paladin too stupid to see the larger picture. The snake girl… she saw the larger play. But they all fell for it. Who was correct here... was anyone? What is the Harper’s end game? "Hack!" Why was I alive? Concept My concept with this character is someone at a crossroads, and needing to figure out which way to finally travel. The losses in the battle against Zaldara are high, and he's basically weighting those loses against if he believes they are worth it, especially since he almost became one of those losses. On top of that, the power shown by Zaldara against the assembles masses make him question if he should follow the normal course for a Gnome Wizard and go down the path of Illusion, or seek power in other ways. Now lying near death, and being asked to accompany the group who just retrieved the lich's spellbook, but gives it back seems like an interesting course of action. It'll give him a way to: Discover what this soulmonger is, given that it even frightened Zaldara. To see if the sacrifices that the Harpers made for this group was worth it. Travel, and see the world. The most important part is the self searching journey that this trip will allow. I'm heavily leaning towards taking the necromancy specialization path, as he has seen the devastation first hand. Plus, there's always the lure of fighting fire with fire. Using undead tactics to fight against undead (he see's Zaldara as the final end game in all this. Take out the threat of the soulmonger, then return to deal with Zaldara. I want to use the Haunted One background to represent is own personal internal struggles regarding the outcome of the battle against Zaldara. It doesn't sit well with him, and he's trying to figure out how to deal with that; Sometime in unhealthy ways. So this would be a new haunting, not something well established. So the internal struggle is the key to the character. Will he continue to be the Gnome Wizard he was originally meant to be? Will he turn towards the dark allure, and fight against the Harpers? Or, there is always the possibility that he continues his balancing act upon the knife's blade, and does both: Stays the wizard working for good, but using the dark forces to do so. I didn't go to far into his background, but for a reason. I want that to be something to explore as well. Revealing how his past might affect his present, and future. He has obviously gone to school, for a time, where magic is involved and trained... but so did Voldemort. What about Vecna, Acererak, Bigby, Mordenkainen, and Halaster Blackcloak? They weren't always the names they are now, and they obviously came from somewhere. I want to try and explore that with Taurri Stellaur flashbacks, or even visions of the future. I'm not saying the Taurri will become as well known as those magic users. More that they also might have had humble beginnings. Random Stuff I'm not 100% tied to the name. I've always envisions gnomes having silly names. Other Possible Images:

[FatherDondo]

I haven't played it before. Actually, I just finished a game with a character that could work: an elven wizard trained in medicine and necromancy. His backstory has him set off on his quest because of his dead master, but she could just as easily come back... so she can immediately start dying again, lol.

 

Ailill was apprenticed to a hedge doctor, Allaria, typically performing some minor medical treatment for the local farmers and their animals. One winter, there was an outbreak of disease affecting livestock, and one of the shepherds was hit especially hard. Many of his sheep and dogs were beyond treatment. Becoming more and more frustrated, He tried to will a dead dog's heart to start. What he ended up doing was shocking it, making it twitch. Allaria saw what he'd done and quietly informed her apprentice that the time had come to broaden his studies.

In addition to anatomy and medicine, Ailill started to drill on arcane exercises. Allaria made sure to start him off with those spells she felt would help on the road or in everyday life, and that when he was ready and more disciplined, she would teach him more about necromancy. "It's a misunderstood discipline," she would say, "but that's only because it brushes so close to death. Death is only another part of Life, and with care and respect necromancy is invaluable for what we do."

One day, bandits threatened to surround their wagon, but they took off. They chased Allaria and Ailill along the cliffs above the edge of the valley. They took a turn too quickly, and the wagon tipped over the edge. Allaria fell to her death, but Ailill hit a ledge on the way down, saving his life. He was stuck on that ledge for 3 days before someone found him. After that, he went down into the valley to bury his master, scavenged what money and supplies he could find among the wreckage, and started walking.

https://www.rpgcrossing.com/profiler/view.php?id=77196

 

[Silk]

Just a question about Mage Armor in 5th edition. It say's you get 13 AC unless you wear Armor & then it does not work. Tiffa's Draconic Origin's prity much states the same thing. 13 AC unless you wear Armor.
Since they are almost identical, does that mean they do not stack? (I'm assuming they do not stack, but just wanted to be certain.)

[Admin Bhelogan]

Originally Posted by Silk

Just a question about Mage Armor in 5th edition. It say's you get 13 AC unless you wear Armor & then it does not work. Tiffa's Draconic Origin's prity much states the same thing. 13 AC unless you wear Armor.
Since they are almost identical, does that mean they do not stack? (I'm assuming they do not stack, but just wanted to be certain.)

They do not. In 5E, if you have multiple formulas for AC, you only use one of them.