[D&D-5e] As the World Below Sleeps Eternally

[Demandredd]

Game Name As the World Below Sleeps Eternally

Game System DnD 5e

Theme The discovery of an ancient artifact triggers a desperate race against time to uncover its origins

Flavour Firefly meets Skies of Arcadia meets D&D - high pulp steampunk fantasy

Plot Summary I cannot tell you how the world we live in now was created, for I was not there when it came to be. What I do know is that the world of Requiem was not always so. There was once a landmass that everyone lived on. On this place, a "continent" as the sages called it, people lived. They build buildings made out of stone and wood, and inside those buildings they lived their lives. There were places called "palaces", where important people called Kings and Queens lived. Apparently they gave orders and everyone followed them, which is something I can't even imagine in the lawless world we live inside of today! That world is long gone. Sages and historians tell of an event known as a "cataclysm" that occurred many millennia ago. During this cataclysm, the world below shattered into a million fragments, pieces of which were hurled into the sky from this magical catastrophe. That is all that is left of the world today, floating islands in the sky. The world below does not exist anymore, all there is is the sky, the floating islands, and the ragged remnants of what was once an ancient and vast civilisation. The world of Requiem is nothing more than a loose collection of floating islands in the sky. A millennia ago, the world as was once known was destroyed by a magical catastrophe. The land itself was split apart inside this cataclysm, and the magical powers unleashed during it tore the very world asunder. And although most of the people of Requiem were killed by the events of that night, those that did survive eked out a living on these floating chunks of land that were sent spiralling upwards into the sky. Countless hundreds and thousands of years have passed since this event, and most of the people of today, descendents of those original survivors, remember nothing of the world below or indeed that there was anything different from the lives that they live today. If there is a world below, or even a remnant of a world below it has long been lost and there are very very few that dare to descend underneath the thick cloud of fog that swirls below the islands that float across the world above. Those brave few that have dared to pierce this cloud of fog report that there is nothing below -- just the empty oblivion of nothingness. These dotted islands, shards of a life now long gone float aimlessly across the sky, making it impossible for any would-be cartographer to map the world of Requiem as it is today. As there is no fixed landmass in the sky, there is no way to chart the skies. Yet mortalkind is nothing if not adaptable. Even with civilisation as it once was wiped out, the ancestors of today's people managed to cling on to the basic fundamentals of society even as their world shattered around them. One thing that was left over from the cataclysm were magical crystals. Crystals that were infused with the permanent and magical essence of a fly spell. Through great pain and many years worth of effort, the first flying vessel was created. Forged from wood and metal, one of the magical crystals was inserted into the helm of the ship, providing it with the ability to fly. From the first came more, ships of wood and metal that had with them the ability of flight. Thus so it was that mortalkind, with their flying ships learned to survive. Today, these flying ships allow for trade between one community and another. Over the years, society has rebuilt to a certain degree. Through the vessels there is a modicum of trade and commerce, and a basic form of currency has been established. But as with all things, there are those who use what they have for more nefarious purposes. It is not unheard of for pirates of one vessel to prey upon those merchants or other honest folk looking for coin and plunder. And although there is a loose confederation of lawmakers that seek to keep the skies safe from these pirates, it should not be said that the skies of Requiem are a completely safe place. *** You are crew members of a flying ship, the Avalon. You spend your days trading goods between the island in which you live on and neighbouring communities. It is a steady, if boring life. Little do you know that things are about to change. One day, you pick up a mysterious and beautiful stranger, and it is the catalyst for events to follow. For this particular stranger has concealed within her person a strange artifact the likes that you have never seen before, and there are other, darker eyes that covet this item. Pursued by an enigmatic and dangerous cult, you must uncover the truth behind this artifact and what its purpose is. And as your life spirals out of control, the path you are on may eventually lead you through the bank of fog to discover the truth of the world below. A world that has been sleeping for eternity.   The world was shattered a millennium ago from a magical cataclysm. What is left of the world is composed of various floating islands that are powered by remnants of the magic that was used to tear the world below apart. These islands are large enough to house a colony of different people but are by no means large enough to count as a large landmass or kingdom-sized colony. Travel and trade is through flying airships that traverse the skies of Requiem. These airships are powered by magical crystals that are inserted into the helm of the airship and infused with a permanent fly spell.   The Gods are eight powerful mortals that ascended to godhood back in the days of the cataclysm. It is said that an overpower took eight paragons of their kind and gave them immortality and deity-hood. They are eternal guardians, meant to watch over the world so that the cataclysm that created the world as it is today does not ever happen again. God: Spheres: The Ageless Wanderer Life The Worldmother Nature The Deathless One Death The Scribe Knowledge The Eternal Fire Light The Restless Chaos Tempest The Trickster Trickery The Champion War   Port Hope: Where the Avalon is docked between missions, and the starting location of the game. Port Hope is one of the larger islands of Requiem and boasts the following: Ship Harbor: For docking airships, the harbor is tended to by the harbormaster, a dwarf by the name of Krumrig Rockbeard. Inn and Tavern: The Welcome Rest, a sometimes rowdy, if not inhospitable Inn and Tavern run by the retired merchant Juhner Mehmid Blacksmith: A forge and equipment shop is maintained on the island, run by the warrior Gemvas Huremru General Goods Store: An islander from the nearby island of Harside Key, Sashuh Fihpakt drives a hard bargain with a friendly smile. Harside Key: A bustling city on an island, Harside Key is the only known example of such a type in Requiem. Although not large by other medieval city standards, Harside Key’s uniqueness makes it a fascinating anomaly in a shattered world. A metropolis, or as much of a metropolis as there can be, it boasts the largest concentrated population left in the world of Requiem. Harside Key has a variety of different trades and craftsmen, and has the closest thing that is left to organised society. The ruling council of Harside Key is the organisation of Watchers, those who watch the skies of Requiem to keep it safe from pirates and other nefarious ne’er do-wells. Elmcaster Enclave: Elmcaster Enclave is a small collection of islanders that have joined forces to make a semi-functional working society based on a collective need to survive. Although nowhere near the scale of Harside Key, Elmcaster Enclave have gone beyond the usual collection of farms and farmsteads to provide working examples of trade and commerce, along with a selection of small crafts and trades shops. Torland Isle: Torland Isle is a barren island. There are no known inhabitants on the island, and instead it is populated by skeletal ruins that may or may not be remnants of the world before it was sundered. It is not known why noone takes up habitation of the island, perhaps it could be something dangerous that lives within the ruins, or perhaps it is nothing save superstition. The Oyster Isles: A collection of small floating islands that occupy the same geographical area, it is strange that the Oyster Isles always remain in floating distance of each other, but they do. Each island is large enough to house a singular or couple of dwellings, but no more than that. The inhabitants of the Oyster Isles are farmers that predominantly live off the land or their own produce.   Not much is known about the time before the sundering of the world. Our history synopsis begins with a disclaimer. There is no known centralised calendar, and no scholars who have documented the roll of years since the time before. It is instead noted that the rise of any semi-formal recording of history begins with the rise of Port Hope. It was one of the inhabitants of the then scattered homes of Port Hope that realised that pieces of magical crystal left over from the cataclysm could be used to infuse magical essence into solid objects, granting those objects the ability to fly. From this discovery sprung the eventual building of the first flying ship. A discovery that would allow people to communicate and visit different islands. Where there was one, there soon became more, and around this discovery and the building of more ships a bustling community was born. The ability to fly between islands opened up much in the way of possibilities. Indeed, this was the catalyst to allow society to rebuild itself to a modicum of degree. Trade and commerce was now possible, and despite the ever shifting world and islands, it was the beginning of something. Many many years has passed since then. Mortalkind has since learned not only to survive, but to thrive. Harside Key has formed a larger, almost city-like state under the guidance of a collection of traders and merchants who oversee business in the city. Yet with all the advancements made, there are still those whose greed compels them to advance themselves at the cost of others. Pirates roam the skies, preying on those weaker than themselves and looking to earn their own fortune from the misfortune of others. From the base of Harside Key, a loose organisation of lawmakers known collectively as “The Blue Flag” has arisen to supposedly guard the skies from these pirates and bring them to justice, led by the wealthy merchant Terlec Natrome, yet there are individuals who believe that there is a more sinister purpose to the Flag, a wish to impose a form of control and regulation over those who would sail the skies. Perhaps an attempt to seize a modicum of power for themselves. It is this volatile world into which you come, sailors and crew members aboard the Avalon. As traders, you will soon be thrust into a world that will begin to spiral dangerously out of control.

Game Information Hello everyone, I am back with another game for your perusal. This setting is one of my own creation, and for this game I wanted to do something just a tad different from your usual fantasy settings. Although the setting itself is not your usual fantasy land, there will be no changes from the D&D 5e source material, all the usual swords, spells and classes will apply here, with the main exception being the Warlock’s patrons. For anyone who wishes to create a Warlock character, feel free to contact me directlyas I’m happy to work with you to define suitable patrons given the context and nature of the world — alternatively if you have a custom patron in mind feel free to fire it over to me, I’m happy to consider them. This game has been heavily inspired by Skies of Arcadia and Firefly, and I’m hoping to strive for a fantasy steampunk style tone for it. Unlike my last game which is somewhat darker in tone, this will be pure pulp steampunk fantasy and I hope that shines through in the setting itself. Basically I want this to be an utter shedload of crazy fun! Below you'll find the specifics in terms of the game and character building, please don't start work on your sheet until I confirm acceptance to the game. As this is really the first time I’ve tried to create my own custom setting for a game please don’t be too hard on me in terms of picking up on holes or inconsistencies with it . Number of Players: 4-6 Post Rate: 1-2 a week. Starting Level: 1 Acceptable Sources: PHB, Sword Coast Adventurers Guide, Xanathar's Guide to Everything Races and Classes: Anything in the above sources Stats: Point Buy Starting Equipment: As per Class and Background Closing Date: Applications will be selected the week commencing the 15th March

Application Details Nothing too extravagant here, please include the following as part of your application: Name: Race: Class: Description: A short description of your character. Personality: A high level overview of your characters personality Backstory: A short backstory for the character. You will begin the game as one of the crew of the ship Avalon, a small trading vessel. The ships roles are defined below. All accepted characters will know each other prior to game start. Available Roles: The below are available ship roles for you to apply for. For any roles not filled I will provide NPC characters for. Some roles I may consider multiple characters for. Captain Pilot Navigator Cook Medic Shipwright Deckhand Warrior (in charge of ship defence) Finally, provide me with a small roleplay sample from that character's perspective.

[FunnyValentine]

Is the captain the owner of the ship, or is he employed by the ships actual owner?

[Demandredd]

The captain is the owner of the ship.

[Drachenspirit]

Application Name: Irostar Sylxaris <----- Character Sheet Race: Halfelf Class: Sorcerer Description: Irostar stands five feet, eight inches tall, and weighs a little over one hundred and forty five pounds. She has been called terminally pretty with her shapely figure, green eyes, and auburn hair. She is usually seen in her traveling outfit, carrying a quarterstaff, with a dagger on her hip and one showing in her boot. If off ship, she'll most likely have a pack on her back, and if on ship, she'll likely have Navigator's tools in her hands. Personality: "Iro" (Pronounced "irō") seems to be the epitome of a sailing ship's crew as she loves sailing into new and old ports, making new friends and greeting old ones, all over a flagon or two of ale. It doesn't help matters that once she starts drinking, she has trouble stopping - a fact her shipmates know quite well. She sees the ship as the freedom to come and go any place and do anything, and the crew as her family. Aside from all of this, she is just as open about her natural affinity and ties to Storm Sorcery; although she is quite young and just beginning. Backstory: Iro practically grew up on a ship, in fact she was born on one. Before she was born, her mother almost died in a storm, and it was said that she, her mother, was struck by lightning while she was still carrying the preborn Irostar inside her. Her mother attributes this fact to her daughter's love of Storms. Not wanting to be tied down telling this person or that what to do, or deciding what goes where aboard ship, she leaned towards navigating and even piloting a bit. These tasks kept her away from the endless drudge of chores and work on the ship more than any other role, so she naturally leaned towards those. She's the youngest of five children, all but one of whom still sail through the skies on their own, or with their parents. She's got stories to go along with the best of tales in her short life, and loves to hear tales of life in the sky ways over a good Ale. It's no surprise that she finally struck out on her own and joined a crew away from her parents after that last voyage cleaned her out. In truth, her family is one of Smuggler's more than traders who like to keep that part only known to those they smuggle things to and from. She's used her family name to get the ship she has (if Captain), and also used her last name to draw a crew to her ship. Roles Applying for: Captain 1st, Navigator 2nd, Pilot 3rd Roleplay sample from character's perspective: I'm sure you've heard that the Sylxaris family is widely known out on the high sky ways and in many ports of call, large and small. T'was m'father who started it all. He was a middle aged Elven Rogue when he took up with the young human swashbuckler, my mother, aboard a ship one season. Some 30 years later, and they're still going at it, though more from a business point of view. Having their own ship, the Sylxaris' deal in trade above all else, rarely getting into squabbles. On more than one occasion, they can be found docked for several months for no reason other than they wanted to. Now, you may be wonderin' why I'm not still with them, seein' as it's so smooth and full sails and all with all that sky behind them. I probably would be were it not for that Rogue Pirate Wilma 'Silver Hair' Marlowe, and her wanton ways. T'was almost two years ago, it was, and my folks were laid siege to when anchored at the small crescent Isle of Voya. I thought for sure there'd be a fight, and initially there was; me casting mah magics across their bow and into their sails. But can you believe, mah folks held me up?! Stopped right in their tracks, dropped weapons and let 'em board. Okay, I grant you, Silver Hair, now she's got swagger, and right friendly for a pirate even. She didn't take all, hurt no one, and left us in her wake. "She's a right lady for a pirate, that one", m'father said. Can you believe that? Almost like it t'was a priv'lidge to be raided by the likes o' her. I asked m'father if that would damage our family's reputation, since we're s'posed ta be famous smuggler's and all. He said that if you're a famous smuggler, then you're not doing a good job o' bein' a smuggler. Now, that pirate lady, she took all I had saved up, all m'coin, so, I left as soon as I could, wif a ship provided by my father. He says it's my inheritance and that's all I get. For me, not gonna turn keel or drop sail for a pirate ne'er again. Gonna make back what was stole tenfold for m'self and m'crew, jus you wait and see. Now, whot was I 'bout to do afore... Blighter! Mah mug's empty! Barkeep! Another Ale for me and mah mates!"

[Pseudonymous]

Ooh, great concept! Interest!

 

The Reluctant Figurehead Name: Race: Class: Role: Captain Description: A short description of your character. Personality: A man who wholly embodies the concept of "one step away from screaming." He doesn't want to be here, he has no idea what he's doing, and he lives with the constant knowledge that an entire ship, its inhabitants, and the company as a whole depend on him not screwing anything up. Constantly tired, indecisive, easily-cowed and inexperienced, he is not what anyone expects or desires in a captain (including himself), but here he is. Reluctantly. Honestly, he just wanted to be an accountant. Stupid family drama. Backstory: .

[Candide3693]

Sounds interesting. I'd like to apply.

Application Character: Pliva Yahns Pliva Yahns Name: Pliva Yahns Race: Human Class: Monk Description: Pliva appears to be a bland sort of nondescript man of average height, average weight, and average in every way. He sports patchy facial hair in sort of a combination of mutton chops and a handlebar mustache across a pudgy face with a broad nose and eyes that are slightly too wide-set and somewhere between olive green and slate brown in color. He keeps his thinning, receding hair, which could best be described as mud/clay/silt-colored, at shoulder length. He dresses in earthy colored clothes: brown, grey, and black, that are meant to mimic or evoke armor. Personality: Pliva is a jovial jester who never seems to take anything seriously and is constantly making jokes in every situation. This humorous exterior conceals a calm and deliberate person who, despite teasing them almost constantly, is loyal to his friends and works to maintain harmony in the group. Pliva considers the group goals in every situation carefully before choosing a course of action. Backstory: Born in Harside Key to parents who owned a small inn in a poorer section of the floating city, Pliva left in his youth to explore the remnants of the world. Pliva traveled working as a cook/ deck hand throughout the other islands in the world or Requiem, visiting Port Hope, Elmcaster Enclave, and even seeing Torland Isle from a distance. He came across a hermit monk living alone on a small uncharted island somewhere near the Oyster Isles and became fascinated with the thought of unarmed combat, so he left the ship he had been working on, ceased his wandering for a time, and pestered the monk until he grudgingly accepted him as a live-in cook/student. The monk was happier after the first meal Pliva cooked for him, and began his training in earnest the next day. Pliva was again glad he had learned the rudiments of cooking from working at his parents’ inn when younger. Eventually, he learned the monastic tradition of unarmed combat. Sometime later, he was able to hail a passing ship and left to seek his fortune. Pliva stumbled across the Avalon while in Port Hope searching for his next adventure and applied for a position as ship’s cook. Application Role: Cook Roleplay sample: Pliva steadies himself with a hand against the hull as the galley tilts yet again. Sometimes, it could be challenging to cook when the wind drove the ship through the roiling skies. Pliva stirs the fisherman’s stew he has been working on for the last hour. Thick with sliced roots and vegetables, the stew bubbles in the pot on top of the small sheet-iron stove. Pliva checks the seasonings one last time, takes the pot off the stove, sets it on the table, and adds the shredded shellfish and fish meat. He gives the stew one last stir, mixing the meat evenly throughout the stew. The heat of the stew will cook the meat while leaving it moist and tender; a secret he had learned from working at his parents’ inn. Oi! You lot! Get your worthless carcasses down here if you’re hungry! I’ve scraped the deck and boiled down what I gathered to a thick goo, and it’s finally ready to eat! It’s way too extravagant for you lot, but I couldn’t find anything worse! Someone already emptied the privy! Pliva laughs as he fills bowls with the hearty fisherman’s stew and sets them out for the rest of the crew.

[Craigthulu]

Definitely interested, I love Skies of Arcadia.

[Noquarter19]

Complete

Application for As the World Below Sleeps Eternally Name: Haklaeryn “Hawk” Arageiros Race: Wood Elf Class: Druid (Circle of Dreams) Description: Haklaeryn “Hawk” Arageiros would not look out of place standing tall in battle atop a charging steed, or dancing with a courtesan at a fancy ball. He is an elf druid, but out here, floating through the air with nothing but sun and sky and the birds, there is little for him to protect. And so he turns his eyes up and out to the sky, because it is the world around him that is his true interest. His keen eyes make him adept at spotting threats, and his sharp mind helps him remember the different routes among the floating landmasses that are the world around him… or what remains of it. Hawk is average in height, but while he is not one to swing a giant axe, he has strong fingers and powerful arms which make him adept at climbing up through the rigging. He has learned to move quickly as he scrambles up into the man I really hope this boat has a crow’s nestcrow’s nest. All that time in the sun has bleached his hair blonde and burned his skin to a deep bronze. His eyes, although they see much, have a hard time meeting those of others, and he prefers the solitude of being up in the rigging. Personality: Physically, Hawk is a gorgeous specimen. His mind, however, lends itself more to the monk who takes a vow of solitude. Hawk gets uncomfortable with confrontation, and only raises his voice when he is hollering out directions to the pilot of the Avalon. In a one-on-one conversation, Hawk struggles to make eye contact and talk above a mutter. He has been a crewmember of the Avalon for years now, and still isn’t sure he even likes the name Hawk – no, in fact, he hates it. But he hates it less than listening to his fellow crewmembers trying to pronounce Haklaeryn, and so he just stays quiet. Besides, they’ve called him Hawk for so long, he’s pretty sure they’ve actually forgotten his real first name. It’s fine. He doesn’t complain. He likes the work, likes the fresh air, the sun and sky, the birds and bugs, and watching the land masses come and go like magic. But something, something deep in his heart knows that this world is not as it was or should be. He isn’t sure how he knows, but sometimes he can feel the earth, whispering to him, when the Avalon steers into port. And part of him feels excited to communicate with the land, for it is certainly more comforting than human company. But another, deeper part of him, wonders uncertainly. If this is not as the earth once was, as the Worldmother saw fit to make it, then what was it like before – and what sort of force could have split the land asunder like this? Backstory: “Hawk,” as he has come to be known by the crew of the Avalon, will tell you that he’s not afraid of heights – and for the most part, he’s not lying. What he won’t tell you, what he’s never told anyone, is that the only reason he’s comfortable up in the rigging, is because he can at least see the deck below him. The thing that truly terrifies him is if he were to fall off that deck, and out into… nothing. When Haklaeryn was a boy, living on one of the many scattered chunks of land floating through the sky, he lived with his mother among a small copse of trees that somehow still grew on the floating chunk. He never knew his father, who his mother claimed had disappeared one night. But it was alright. She had Haklaeryn, and he had her. There was a small spring where they fetched their water, and there were some bushes that grew tasty red berries. Life was good for young Haklaeryn. What he didn’t know, what he likely couldn’t have known, even as a young child of an elf of twenty-five, was that his mother was battling a severe case of depression. Haklaeryn liked to make his mother laugh by making silly faces and putting sticks in his hair and pretending to be a tree-boy… but as time went on, and they were still the only two living on this small plot of land, she grew more and more despondent. One day, as Haklaeryn was drifting off to sleep in the small shelter his mother had crafted for them out of wood and earth, his mother kissed him on the forehead, and said ”Goodbye sweet Haklaeryn, mother loves you. The forest will provide for you what I could not.” He was so sleepy, his eyes wouldn’t stay open any more, no matter how hard he tried. He could see that her cheeks were shiny with tears. She kissed him on the forehead again, and left his life. The next morning, when he was frantically looking for her, he found her prints in the dirt heading to the edge of their chunk of land… and assuming one could theoretically walk off the land, according to how I’m imagining the world worksthen disappearing at the edge. He looked down, down, down, but didn’t see her anywhere. Just distance and void. Haklaeryn was on that plot of land by himself with nothing but the few animals that lived in the woods for the next 30 years. Gone were the smiles of the young boy. The forest did provide him with food and shelter, but aside from the Worldmother, who he talked to every night before bed, he was alone. One day, a passing ship which had become lost came within hailing distance of his homeland. Haklaeryn said nothing, only stood there watching the vessel. Crewmembers onboard saw the young elf standing there, and sailed up to dock their vessel. Haklaeryn didn’t know whether to be afraid or not, and the men who were talking to him seemed frightening and large. At first, he thought to run, but he saw that one of the crew members wore a whatever that might look likependant of the Worldmother. He clutched his own pendant and pointed to that worn by the sailor. The man gave him a smile and, stepping forward, took the boy by the hand. Come with us, he said, and the boy was no longer afraid. But when he approached the gangway to board the ship, he began to tremble and back away. Only by closing his eyes and allowing his new friend to carry him was he able to board. Haklaeryn knew his own name, but had not spoken it in a long time. He came to be simply known as “boy,” or “elf,” and found a new purpose as a member of the crew. Granted, he was still very young, and his duties were mostly related to cleaning. When he was not scrubbing the deck or cleaning pots and pans or other mundane tasks, he would try to steel himself up to approach the railing and look out onto the passing world. He didn’t eat much or drink much – in fact he was quite dreadfully thin, even for an elf – and because he was quiet and didn’t get drunk or cause problems, he was largely forgotten. He was allowed to stay on, and as years passed, he became quite adept at spotting things that others didn’t as they traveled. With land masses that constantly shifted, there were no maps available, but his new friend helped him recognize those few chunks that had come to be named. He grew to be quite adept at navigating, and served in that capacity for quite some time, even though he was not yet an adult in elf years. As Haklaeryn came of age, his friend told him that the ship was being sold to another captain. ”I don’t know as they’ll let you stay on board or not, but you’ve shown you’re a dab hand at navigating. Could be they’ll keep you on, but you’ll need to talk more. They won’t know you like I do, and I know it’ll be tough meeting new crew, but you’re strong Haklaeryn, I know you’ll do fine. But I’m too old to keep on, too tired. So this is where we part. But chin up, and remember – the Worldmother always provides. You’ll be fine.” He gave the boy a hug, before scooping up his seabag and walking down the gangplank and out of Haklaeryn’s life. Two weeks later, the sale of the Avalon was finalized to its new captain. Haklaeryn, struggling to speak, much less make eye contact, introduced himself. ”Hello… I’m… Haklaeryn. I could… be your navigator… if that’s alright?” Role applying for: Navigator   Life as a sailor on board a flying merchant vessel might have been dull to many, but for Haklaeryn “Hawk” Arageiros, there were definitely benefits. Fresh air, obviously. Birds. Fluffy clouds. The occasional pleasant rain. And freedom. Out here, up in the heights of the rigging and atop the crow’s nest of the Avalon, Haklaeryn felt at peace. ”Hawk! Hey, Hawk! You fall asleep up there?” Well. Mostly at peace. Hawk was navigator on board the Avalon, a merchant ship which traversed the various chunks of land that made up this world. He’d been on the ship for decades and was working for his second captain. The work was fine. It was easy enough, keeping an eye out for the floating chunks of earth that were slowly in motion through the clear blue sky. They never stayed quite in the same place over time, so any sort of map was impossible. The trick was to just keep an approximate memory of the major land masses, and to avoid the smaller chunks of land that could put a hole in the hull. Haklaeryn had been floating for years, and in all that time he’d never seen one land mass stay oriented the same way twice. It certainly did make the job diffi- ”Hey HAWK! How about those islands buddy?” The elf sighed, and called back down ”Uh, two islands ahead. Come to port about 15 degrees and we’ll pass right through. That’s Torland Isle to starboard. Sir.” He went back to staring ahead and around, keeping an eye out for pirates. In the years since he’d been on the Avalon, Hawk had been lucky to have never run across the brigands, but he’d heard other sailors talk about those who had when they came back from their forays into port for drink and gambling. Hawk never went with them, content to stay on board and read a book in peace and quiet, or to stroll the deck, or very rarely, to debark and walk among the trees. He didn’t do this often, since he needed someone to help him down the gangplank to and from land, and it was embarrassing to ask. Hawk climbed down the rigging, moving like a spider among the ropes. He felt the wooden decking below his feet and took a moment to re-orient himself. He didn’t spend much time on deck during voyage, but there was plenty of room between the two landmasses, and they would be docking in Port Hope in about two hours’ time. A chance to head down to the galley and get some fruit. He closed one eye and waited for a few minutes time, then headed downstairs to the guts of the ship and opened his eye again. The eye that had been open was immediately unable to see anything in the dark, but that was alright – his other one had compensated for the darkness in the several minutes it had been shut. Of course, he didn’t really need to worry. He could walk this place blind by touch, a sign of how familiar he was with it, after so many years. He just didn’t want to do something awkward like touching someone while he groped around in the dark. He quickly arrived at the galley and nodded at the cook. ”Heya Hawk, how you doing today? We’ve got fresh grapes, straight from the Enclave, or if you want something in the way of vegetables, I’ve got a box full of some nice big cucumbers. Say, I heard that some nobles in Harside Key like to put cucumbers in water – isn’t that weird?" ”Mmhmm,” Hawk muttered. He’d never felt the need to put cucumbers in water; they were already pretty watery. Tasty too. ”Um… I’ll just have the grapes… please…” ”You got it, pal” the cook said, leaning back on his counter. He passed a small wooden cask of the fresh fruit over. ”Although you ask me, they taste better mashed up and fermented into wine! Haha!” The cook brayed laughter. Hawk smiled politely and grabbed a vine of grapes. He never knew how to engage in small-talk, but that was alright – everyone else aboard seemed to talk plenty enough for both of them. He popped a grape and gave a quiet thank you to the Worldmother for the sweet-tasting gift. He’d have been content to sit at the small bench and eat his grapes in peace, but the cook was in a philosophical mood. ”Hey Hawk, you’re kind of a nature guy right? You’ve been on this boat a long time from what I’ve heard. And elves live a long time. You must know something about these crystals, right? Like, where’d they come from? And how they make this boat fly? What do you think gives them their power?” Hawk’s jaws froze mid-bite, and his stomach was suddenly in knots. He gulped down his bite of fruit with an effort, then said quietly ”I… I don’t know anything really about the crystals. I’ve asked the Worldmother… but I haven’t been able to hear an answer yet. And I… I don’t know how they got their power… sorry.” His eyes flicked up quickly to look at the cook, then flicked back to the grapes. The cook just laughed. ”Heh, Hawk, no need to be sorry friend, I was just shooting the breeze. My grandfather, he’s the oldest person I know that’s not an elf, he doesn’t know either. Well however they got their power, let’s hope they keep it – otherwise, we’re in for quite a fall!” The cook guffawed with laughter, but Hawk’s blood ran cold. He pushed the remainder of the grapevine back into the cask, having only eaten about three. The thought of the crystals suddenly losing their power, and all of these land masses and ships suddenly plummeting for miles and miles… Hawk felt sick to his stomach. ”Um…thanks for the grapes. I have to get back to work now. Um… bye.” He was already hurrying away, not having heard the cook’s reply. His appetite, what little there was of it at all, was gone. Hawk closed his eyes and clutched one of the wooden beams that formed the structure of the ship’s interior. The wood was old and lined and strong, and right now it was the only thing keeping him upright. I have to get down. We have to get down, down below all this, before these crystals die. He didn’t know if it was just something the cook had said out of curiosity, or if he actually meant to terrify the elf, but either way the result was the same. Hawk was terrified. He kept flashing back to the memory of his mother (Goodbye sweet Haklaeryn, mother loves you) and part of him wondered, maybe she was able to find a piece of crystal on her own. Maybe she’d been able to float down below, and she was down there somewhere, somewhere in all that dark void. Maybe. Hawk took a deep breath, took another, and walked back upstairs into the sunshine. It was time to go back to work.

[Drachenspirit]

App is complete. I threw my app at the role of Navigator initially, but it could be Pilot. However, I am not resistant to tweaking my character's background and going for Captain if no one has their heart set on it.

[TheOneTrueClone]

Are you absolutely firm on not allowing things from other sources? 'Cause this setting seems perfect for an Artificer.

[mrtowne]

Withdrawn. Good luck all.

[anamiac]

Since this is a steampunk setting, what can you tell us about firearms (ie DMG 268)? Are they non-existent, rare (ie, artificer only - but it doesn't look like artificer is in any of the approved books so I dunno), about as common as other ranged weapons, or have they totally replaced the bow and crossbow on the battlefield? If it's one of the last two, would you allow the elven longbow proficiency to instead apply to a type of firearm?

[Demandredd]

I’m firm on not allowing the artificer. Firearms are an unusual case for this setting. You will not start with them, however I am not ruling out the possibility of discovering them further on down the line.

[Craigthulu]

Name: Dixon Kimberly

Race: Human Variant

Class: Paladin (Planning Freedom) / Rogue (Swashbuckler)

Description: Dixon is a young knight, with light brown hair and an open face. He usually wears light leathers died blue with a tabard indicating his rank as a knight. When operating the helm Dixon wears a wide rimmed blue hat to keep the sun out of his eyes. He removes the hat when sailing into port so on lookers can see how dashing he looks piloting the ship. Dixon has plainer clothes that partially conceal his face for his less than lawful activities that he wears when going out by himself.

Personality: A Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde type personality. Dixon is brave, courageous and daring, the picture of chivalry so long as someone is watching him. When he can get away with Dixon loves to dice, drink and fight dirty. Carouse in the taverns and alleys at the dead night and transforming into a respectable looking gentleman in the morning.

Backstory:

 

Dixon Kimberly grew up above his father’s shop, Harside Key Supplies & Parts, like his father the shop was to the point and practical. Daval Kimberly had determined since there was more sky than ground, the ground was obviously more valuable. The laws of supply and demand made this obvious to him. Others didn’t understand this simple truth and set their sights on the skies. If people wanted to waste their money and time on Airships instead of putting down roots, well Daval could cater to that market.

Growing up in a shop that sold parts and supplies to Airships exposed Dixon to Air Sailors from an early age. His siblings seemed to be fine with the idea of running a successful shop Dixon was always fascinated by what lay beyond the horizon. Harside Key didn’t have many opportunities for a child to join an Airship crew so Dixon was forced to explore town with the other children. During his excursions with the Harside urchins he got into several childhood scuffles. During these fights winning was far more important than how you managed to win. As time went on the groups of urchins slowly grew into gangs and the fights became more serious. It wasn’t uncommon for Dixon to come home with black eyes or a bloody nose.

While his parents were losing patience with his antics and were trying hard to make him settle down, it was his Mothers Sister, Aunt Elain Eldan. Dame Eldan was one of the fools his father profited from. She was a travelling guard, signing on different ships to protect crew and cargo. Aunt Elaine insisted on being called Dame Eldan in public. Strong, stoic and imposing were all words used to describe her, Dixon used a series of curse words to describe his Aunt when she took in interest in his after work activites.

Elain tracked him down the rougher streets of Harside, where she found him and two of his friends beating a rival for moving too far into their turf. Elain wasted no time giving the three youths a taste of their own medicine with the flat of her blade and leading a discontent Dixon back to the family shop.

Recognizing the untapped energy of youth Elain took Dixon under her wing and tutored him in the proper knightly etiquette. Teaching Dixon how to fight was relatively easy, teaching Dixon that fighting with honor was far more difficult. Lastly the lesson on why to fight was by far the hardest for the young man to learn. Elain was relentless and spent her time drilling the lessons into his head until Dixon became a proper young knight.

The Skies were full of pirates and there had to be those willing to stand up to them. Individuals willing to defend those who could not defend themselves. People willing to live and die not just for a cause but for an ideal. Elain wanted to see the skies full of Knights again like the old myths told, champions of truth and justice. When Dixon spent time with his Aunt he desperately wanted to be the kind of person that she would be proud of.

Elain was more than just a simple sword for hire, unlike a mercenary she was a Knight. Dixon didn’t fully understand the difference but Elain would scoff at contracts that offered good pay and take up jobs were she owed money in the end, all because she wouldn’t break her codes. A knight defends the weak. A knight speaks only truth. A knights word is their bond.

Living the life of Knight chaffed at Dixon. As much as he wanted to, he found the ideals his Aunt stood for were harder to do than they were to say. He was prone to taking the easy way out when it suited him and thought that it wouldn’t get back to him. Winning a fight with an underhanded trick instead of using the techniques his Aunt taught him was fine so long as no one caught on. For the most part people began treating Dixon like a respectable young man so he assumed his particular take on knight hood was correct, for the most part.

On his eighteenth birthday his Dame Elain Eladin knighted Dixon and gifted him a rapier, a buckler and armor. A man in truth it was time for Dixon to make his own way in the world. He took on a few escort contracts that took him away from Harside Key but always brought him home. Upon arrival he would work a few shifts at the store waiting for his Aunt to return from whatever contract she was on. On his twentieth birthday Elain did not return home, nor the month after that.

When no word from Elain came to the family home Dixon took it upon himself to find his Idol. Signing onto a few other ships Dixon eventually found himself serving on “The Avalon”, as the helmsmen. Sailing the open skies was sublime, calm beautiful clouds and blue as far as the eye could see. He truly felt home on the ship and even when the winds threatened to tear the ship apart he still felt at peace because the open skies were both beautiful and terrible. Good or bad, poor or rich, king or peasant, everyone was equal when there was nothing but a thin life line between adventure and death.

Crew Position: 1st Choice - Pilot
2nd Choice - Warrior

Role play Sample:

 

Dixon hurriedly shut the window of his room at the inn. He could hear the sharp beats of the town guard boots on the cobble stones just a few streets over. Looking in the mirror he winced at the sharp cut beneath his eye, a few inches higher and he would have been blinded. Running a hand over the wound the skin quickly healed. He threw off his shirt and quickly changed into his armor. All the while the boots got closer and closer.

Using a few other trick his Aunt had shown him over the years Dixon removed the blood from his clothes. He wasn’t sure where it went but a little Arcane focus was all that was required to have his clothes freshly laundered and ironed. The door to the Lonely Anchor Inn opened down stairs and several pairs of boots were now walking across the tavern floor. A minute later the third stair on the landing creaked. That creak was Dixon always left through the window.

His hair freshly combed, clothes clean and pressed and sword belt fastened tightly Dixon the picture of a young officer ready to sail before the crack of dawn. BANG BANG BANG. “Watch Captain Nory, Dixon Kimberly open this door before he break it down.” Dixon opened the door looking forward to the game of Cat and Mouse.

As the door opened Nory would see a clean shaven, well dressed and more than little pompous Knight. Travel bags over one shoulder ready to head down to the docks. “Captain Nory, an unexpected pleasure. I had just finished packing. The Avalon is leaving the berth shortly past sundown.”

“The Avalon might be leaving but you are staying in Port Hope.” Nory moved aside to bring the four other watch men in the hallway into view. “]There as a knife fight last night, one man seriously injured. Another man matching your description was seen running from alley way. Clutching their eye like they were about to lose it.”

Dixon blinked, he was sure he wasn`t seen. Calling the fun from last night a fight was hardly fair. The brute had been big enough but he was clumsy and slow. If the wine hadn't been fogging his wits that knife would never had touched him.

“As you can see Captain, my eyes are perfectly fine. A grievous wound like that would be hard to hide. I spent last night reading poetry.” Dixon began reciting passages from the book borrowed from the Inn. In truth had read the book thoroughly weeks ago, it wasn’t a bad book truth to tell. Even if someone saw him his Alibi was sound enough. Plenty of people had seen him retire to his room with that book. He was certain no one saw him sneak in or out.


“Let me see your dagger Sir Kimberly”, Nory said in flat voice with his trade mark forehead vein begin to beat in frustration. Dutifully Dixon surrendered his dagger, the blood long since cleaned from the blade. A shame that the man would live; Dixon hated people who cheated poorly at dice. A good cheater wouldn’t have gotten caught so easily. Upon inspection Nory handed the dagger back.

“Be on your way Dixon.” The words were almost a growl coming out of Norys mouth. The game of cat and mouse would continue another time. So close Nory almost had him this time, the man really was getting better. Dixon bowed respectfully and strode down the hallway with a purposeful air. He didn’t stop until his feet were planted on the deck of Avalon and his bags were stowed in the berth.

[justsujoy]

Is there any ship to ship warfare?

Or is it Greeko-Roman style ramming and boarding?

And are the ships completely at the mercy of the winds?

I love the concept but not sure what character I want to make. Conflicted between a Wizard, Archer orThief.