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  #16  
Old Jan 1st, 2021, 03:13 AM
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Name: Tyren Forstell

Description: A young male Tiefling, Tyren tends to wear leathers, and prefers his clothing to be dyed in greens and blues. He is somewhat shy about his infernal heritage, and prefers to keep his smaller horns hidden beneath hoods whenever possible

Class: Warlock (Hexblade)

Motivation: Now is the time...

Tyren felt there was something calling him to be more than a simple villager; but even though he felt this pull away from the safety of relative obscurity, he always felt he had a duty to stay put and keep to the status quo of the village. Hearing the tales of heroes told by minstrels as they occasionally passed by, did naught but light a fire of longing in his young heart to live an interesting life. But still, he had obligations... Now may be his chance to seize his destiny, and live that exciting life; if he can just manage to get out of his own way.

Target Role: [Glue] Tyren is friendly and charismatic, though lacks the experience/confidence to immediately be a leader of the group. He has the potential to not only grow into a forceful presence for his team, but also become an adequate secondary damage dealer at the same time.

Roleplaying Sample: Tyren sat in the corner of The Golden Goose, his mead barely touched as he listened to the general murmur of the other patrons in the small tavern. It had been a very long, hot day; ANOTHER long, hot day... and there was a growing fear that drought was coming to plague the village. "You know they'll blame you. They always need something to blame, and it's always those who are different. Different, or too weak to protect themselves..."

He shook his head, a symbolic attempt to tumble the thoughts loose from their perch his brain. The voice in his head always spoke in such ways, attempting to push him from where he belonged, warning him that his parentage would make him an outsider in his community. Though he had to admit, it often was right in it's warnings. Letting out a low breathy sigh, the Tiefling raised the earthen mug to his lips. At least the bees were staying productive in this mid summer heat... The door to their abode swung open suddenly, harshly, as a stranger pushed into their midst. And an uncomfortable hush befell those gathered as the stranger ordered his fare, and made his way to Tyren's table.

"Busy place, do you mind if I join you young man?" The voice was surprisingly youthful, friendly even; and it caught Tyren completely off-guard. "I suppose, I mean yes, fine, help yourself..." Tyren winced at the awkwardness of his assent to company, though luckily his new companion acted as if nothing was astray in their encounter. "Nice little town you have here, though not on any maps. I was lucky to have come this way, otherwise I might have missed it. And not only is it a hidden gem, it's not often someone would find one of you here? Truly an interesting turn of events."

Tyren couldn't tell if that was a threat, or simply the ramblings of an ignorant traveler, but either way he was suddenly even less comfortable than he had been even minutes before. Rising to his feet, his legs bumped the small table the two had been sitting at, loudly knocking both drinks to the floor. "Sorry, but I think it might be best if one of us leaves now, and it might as well be me...." His statement hanging in air, the Tiefling backed out of the tavern. But he couldn't help but hear the amusement in the stranger's voice as he left "Yes... I think I've been very lucky indeed..."
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  #17  
Old Jan 2nd, 2021, 05:32 AM
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Originally Posted by silveroak View Post
That needs to be posted here
Sorry, but I think you've got the wrong thread. This is The Adventure Begins, not Adventure in Carlsport.
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  #18  
Old Jan 2nd, 2021, 10:54 AM
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sorry, my mistake
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  #19  
Old Jan 2nd, 2021, 06:07 PM
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I might try my hand at a custom race from Tasha's how do you feel about that?
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  #20  
Old Jan 4th, 2021, 02:15 AM
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Name: Exidor

Race: Githyanki

Class: Fighter

Physical Description: Like all of his race, his frame seems thin and deceptively frail, belying his powerfully wiry muscles. He keeps his head shaved except for a small topknot and has a neatly trimmed goatee, and sports an impeccably waxed thin mustache hanging well below his face. He is among the taller members of his race, and his eyes are narrow and sharp.

Personality: Exidor is haughty but refined in mannerisms and taste. He maintains a quiet contempt for almost anyone around him, and is at pains to conceal his snobbery when forced to work with others. His greatest disdain is for his own githyanki culture, which he views as having become uncouth and one-dimensional in service to the lich queen.

Motivation to Adventure: Exidor was naturally one of the brightest of his cohort and although he focused on martial training, he showed some interest in arcane matters as well, with a goal of one day being an eldritch knight. After his rite of passage, he served as a spy and a scout ahead of Gith invasions. However, he became highly influenced by the cultures he observed and came to regret the destruction of their achievements (although still lacking in pity for the loss of the people themselves). He came to view the endless Gith war as pointless and his own Githyanki society as hopelessly inert. His dissatisfaction eventually led him to the Sha’sal Khou movement, where he works in secret to put an end to the Gith intra-racial war. Posing as a Githzerai warrior in hiding from assassins, he has been living in the village for some time, and has been providing service as a guardsman to earn his keep and to win over the locals. But his true intention is to gather information on the landscape, peoples, and culture of the area, to identify assets that might one day serve to thwart a Githyanki incursion.

Role Devil's Advocate / Antagonist. Exidor will push other members of the party to better themselves, but generally not in a kindly manner. He sees the utility in others, and can experience pride and shame in his own performance and that of his team but he just wasn't raised to be empathetic. He has one overarching goal in life that is noble, but he's not really a nice or even good-hearted guy.

RP Example: On a distant world, the forces of the demon-worshipping city of Iuz retreated from the great plains of the Flaeness. Amidst the blood-soaked grass, a half-elven cleric of Greyhawk and her fighter companion, a strange outworlder mercenary claiming to be from a race know as the Githzerai, argued as the tide of battle receded around them. Exidor sniffed and gave his companion a dolorous glance before returning his gaze to the prisoner before them. The cleric, a veteran called Sister Freya, snapped, "The Order of Pelor do not slay those who are at our mercy, Exidor!" The warrior smirked and retorted, "What you call mercy is quite the opposite. This soldier will go through a charade of a trial, following which the magistrate, in his wisdom, will render a death sentence to an enemy of the state. It is a subtle but insidious form of torture, is it not? Why drain your resources and drag out the inevitable for this..ahem...poor soul?" The captive's eyes widened in horror. Sister Freya opened her mouth as if to shout, but took a deep breath and calmed herself. She continued serenely, "Although the Sun God is understanding about the vagaries of battle, when there is no more threat, it is up to His judgment, not mine, if someone is to live or die. And that judgment will guide the wisdom of the magistrates." Exidor held the human's by-now terrified gaze with his own. He continued in a reasoning tone. "Is it not obvious? The judgment of Pelor was rendered when your spell took effect." At this, the half-elf did lose a bit of self-control, "Who do you think you are, to interpret the will of..." Just then, the duration of her spell lapsed, and their now-released enemy snarled and scooped up the loaded crossbow laying on the ground. But before the trigger could be pulled, the mercenary closed the distance and had his sword at the soldier's neck. "I wouldn't if I were you, my good woman. Vagaries of battle, remember?" The crossbow landed softly in the grass. Sister Freya hurried forward, drawing a rope from her pack, and began to lash the would-be sharpshooter. Exidor grimaced and twisted his thin mustache with one finger. "Even after that?" The cleric frowned but did not reply, as she gruffly began to force her captive to march before them. Exidor shrugged. "You're the one paying my retainer." Sword at the ready, he followed, more baffled and disturbed than his calm visage would betray. He must learn more about this code of mercy, and whether there was a strength to it that he couldn't see at the moment. Otherwise he was concerned the Githyanki would overrun Greyhawk like a summer fire through the Flaeness.

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Last edited by Yoshimi; Jan 10th, 2021 at 12:52 PM.
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  #21  
Old Jan 4th, 2021, 06:20 PM
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@Nikolas - I am fine with custom races, so long as they follow the guidelines in the book AND you can still find a picture for your character.
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  #22  
Old Jan 5th, 2021, 12:27 AM
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Name: Sauna the Witch

Description:
This is probably the most realistic image I can find, but if it comes to making a battle map, I think I'd prefer this one for that.

Young female gnome witch aka apprentice wizard. Lives in the swamp south of town. Makes potions to cure just about everything - or so she claims. Sauna is short with curly black hair, spectacles, a overly large black pointed hat, and green cape. She carries a spellbook and a several potions on her belt.

Class: Wizard (transmutation). However, there's also an Alchemist subclass of the Artificer in the Eberron book that I'm considering, but I'd need to get my hands on a copy first.

Motivation: Legitimacy. Sauna is more than happy to live off by herself as a hermit... but that doesn't pay the bills, and so she has to sell to the village folk, and reputation is invaluable... but it's more than that. When a farmer grows a wart on his lip, or the well water dries up, or there's a plague of flesh eating locusts... Well, people tend to visit the local witch. With pitchforks. So, in the interest of not becoming a shish kabob, Sauna is seeing if perhaps she couldn't help out the town a bit, increase her standing perhaps.

Target Role: Educated informant. Sauna is from the capital, had a years training in the wizards academy before her parents died and she couldn't afford tuition.

Roleplaying Sample: Here's a sample from another game that I'm in.
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Last edited by anamiac; Jan 5th, 2021 at 12:30 AM.
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  #23  
Old Jan 8th, 2021, 05:59 PM
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Name: Cobb Holt

Description:Let's get the most obvious statement out of the way first. Custom Race from Tasha's Cauldron of EverythingCobb has a horse's face. Not figuratively, but literally. If the next words were, "Why?" then the answer would be that he doesn't know either. He has fur and a tail as well, but, honestly, when someone speaks about him, they’re going to remember the horse part. Otherwise, there’s not much to say about Cobb, physically. He dresses plainly, as most farmers do and that all seven feet of him is often too big for the spaces he occupies.

Class: Paladin (Oath of the Ancients)

Motivation: There are many reasons to travel. Duty, fear, freedom... For Cobb it's questions, more every day, and they're getting louder as time goes on. He needs to find the answers and they simply are not here. What has happened to him? How is it that can he see things that aren't really there or ease pain with a touch? Who did this to him? Why can't anyone remember her? Where did she go?

Target Role: Even before his transformation, Cobb was the big guy in town. A gentle giant that genuinely enjoyed looking after others and helping out with their problems. Being changed hasn't sullied his outlook. He may not look it, but he's still that same, caring person on the inside.

Roleplaying Sample:
They landed in a heap, a tangle of limbs, her auburn hair, and the tails of his cream colored coat. Ma would have a hell of a time getting the grass and dirt stains out. He'd help, of course, but right now the wash was the furthest thing from his mind. They rolled out of the way of the other maypole dancers, still overcome with laughter and dizziness. The other dancers continued to swirl in time to the beat, stars and fire light shining in unison.

"Coooobb..." her voice was a star as well, in its own way, "Cobb... You let me down Cobb."

"I let you down," he found his elbows and just stared at her, wonderful her, "Right. Cailin 'Carry me to victory' Karras. Couldn't find my feet right now if the King demanded it."

"King nothing. I am your Queen, sir," she brushed his black hair out of his eyes. He kissed her hand, "and I demand a better performance next time."

"You'll have it."

A happy memory, a truly happy one, only tarnish by the fact that it was their last night together and whole.

Last edited by danab; Jan 14th, 2021 at 08:04 PM.
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  #24  
Old Jan 13th, 2021, 06:49 PM
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I am withdrawing Samben.
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  #25  
Old Jan 14th, 2021, 05:26 AM
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Hey there. Although I joined the site a few months back I haven't seen a game I felt compelled to apply to until this one. Would it be ok for me to put in an application for this?
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  #26  
Old Jan 14th, 2021, 10:51 AM
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Yes, feel free to apply!
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  #27  
Old Jan 14th, 2021, 07:59 PM
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All done
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  #28  
Old Jan 15th, 2021, 03:48 PM
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Name: Rohese

Description: A young-looking half-elven woman with fair skin and long wavy hair. She tends to always look like her mind is wandering to something funny that happened earlier, and is quite casual and laid-back. She dresses in bright colors, if not overly fancy, wearing loose, comfortable clothing. Her hair is usually worn loose, sometimes accentuated with flowers or ribbons, which she likes to flare out as she twirls.

Class: Bard

Motivation: Rohese had always been a bit of a dreamer. As far as small villages went, her family enjoyed a relatively comfortable life. Her father was a prominent farmer and she had six older brothers to help with chores. She also had an older sister who was considered the marriage material, or as Rohese muttered behind her sister's back, the "prize sow". She'd said it once to her sister's face before. Once.

Besides, after seven other kids, her parents were pretty much worn down and wore out, and Rohese was allowed to pursue her own interests...which were limited, in such a modest village. As a girl, she did a lot of running around in the surrounding areas, exploring with the other children. As a young teen, of course, everything changed and she discovered that boys took a new interest in her. She liked the attention, though her actual suitors were also limited due to her older brothers. Eventually, the collective young male population began to decide that though Rohese was becoming a young beauty, it wasn't enough to run the gauntlet of bruises from her 'protectors'.

This, of course, wouldn't do at all, as Rohese had begun to enjoy being popular and sought after. So she began singing in the tavern, and it was discovered that she had a fine voice for music. It also provided an opportunity for admiration that didn't require her audience to fight past her family, and the innkeeper was happy to oblige her. Pretty girls singing in taverns were always good for business.

After awhile, though, she'd sung all the songs she knew, and it became a bit commonplace. So when a traveling minstrel played the tavern one night in exchange for food and lodging, Rohese soaked up what she heard. He even played an instrument while he sang! It reopened the world of music to her, and she convinced him to allow her to accompany him on a song she knew. Somewhat impressed with her natural talent, though more impressed with her appearance, he began teaching her songs, and eventually began teaching her instruments.

Eventually, her brothers caught on and confronted the bard, but he was somehow able to smooth-talk them into complacency, much to Rohese's astonishment. Then her father was brought in, and the young girl was certain that there would be blood. Instead, the bard was invited to dinner, where he proceeded to charm the entire family. Later, the bard explained that there was more to his profession than simply singing and playing, and Rohese knew she'd found her path.

Target Role: The Face/support

Roleplaying Sample: Senka the Blade, Amice the Huntress, and Najiba offends the wrong deity.
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  #29  
Old Jan 15th, 2021, 05:33 PM
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Gil Rurnosk
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Name: Gil Rurnosk
Race: Human
Class: Paladin

Description: The first thing that one would comment on to see Gil is the fiery intensity in his expression. It is this that pervades through his person from head to toe, projecting the persona of someone who has been brought up in such a way as to not just to strive to be the best, but to be THE very best at what he does.

The expression from his blue eyes is always serious, and indeed the icy lines etched across his features complete the almost sculpture like carving that is Gil Rurnosk. His parents were almost fanatical in their worship and zeal towards the Sun God Pelor, and it is that upbringing that is evident in almost every facet of Gilís persona. Strait-laced, stiff posture, it is very rare to see that icy expression crack into something even resembling a smile, or at the very least, a loosening of his almost concrete appearance.

Over his neck hangs the holy symbol of Pelor, an affectation that, on the surface, shows his devotion to Pelor. It is, however, a lie.

Across his back is strapped the huge blade that he wields almost like an extension of his right arm.

Motivation: Gilís motivations are, at the same time, both straight forward and paradoxical in nature. They form the emotional core of who he is and also the source of the confusion and uncertainty that gnaw away at him. On the surface, his parents, as devoted worshippers of Pelor had ambitions for Gil from an early age. He was to go out into the world, spread the word of Pelor and do good in the name of Pelor.

And therein lies the crux of the problem.

So devoted to their worship of Pelor were they that it left very little room in their lives to show parental love or warmth to their only child. Never was there a question or an ask over what Gil would like to do with his life. It was always what he could do for Pelor. Over time, as young Gil got older, there began to grow inside of him a small kernel of bitterness. It was the sort of bitterness that nurtured over time, and Gil began to doubt not only his calling, but his god.

After all, what god would demand obedience at such a level that it consumed everything else in their lives?

Gil feels a sense of duty and obligation to do as they wished, to become a champion of Pelor, even as he questions that same sense of duty. It has become a source of torment to the grave young man who, at the end of the day, wishes to do his parents and god proud even as he hates himself for doing so. It is the proverbial rabbit hole that he cannot see a way out of.

Target Role: At itís very core, Gil wants to do the right thing, even if the right thing is not the best thing to do in a particular situation. He is a good person, one that strives for perfection, even if perfection is always unattainable. He would see himself as the moral compass of the group, constantly pushing them to take the right and honourable course of action.

He is stoic, yet inflexible, and it would be down to those around him to get the somewhat unyielding young man to see that the world does not, and indeed cannot, always be viewed in black and white.

And yet, there is nobody, absolutely nobody, who is more steadfast and stronger than Gil Rurnosk, even as he secretly questions himself and his own place in the world around him.

Roleplaying SampleIt was dawn. For years, the village that Gil live in had been as inviting and welcoming a place as its idyllic and pristine appearance would indicate it to be. It was, in essence, a peaceful village full of hardworking laborers and farmers.

Then, three days ago, something changed. Outwardly in the village, everything seemed the same, to a certain extent. Farmers woke with the dawn to tend to their fields. The local blacksmith fanned the fires of his forge as he began smelting ore. The lovely, warm smell of baking bread came out from the bakery. Yet, something was wrong, indisputably so. Not outright wrong, but there was a feeling......a malignant presence that permeated the air. An aura, not an aura of calm, or of peace, but one of dread and anxiety. It was the something that was gnawing away at the young paladin, Gil Rurnosk, as he attended to his daily morning ministrations. The shrine he kneeled at was a shrine dedicated to Pelor. This humble, wayside shrine was instead meant to be a universal place of worship for all who worshipped the Sun God. Even so, Gil could not quiet the internal feeling that he was a fraudster, a charlatan who gave lip service to the deity that he purportedly followed. And here it was that he knelt looking for something.....anything that would quell the unease that he felt inside her heart.

It was not just the fact that Gil, if he were to look down deep inside of himself, would find himself full of and plagued with self-doubt, particularly when it came to his innermost, concealed feelings as regarded his deity.

It was the fact that there was an edge in the air, and that try as much as he might to quell it, something felt wrong this morn. Something was not right in the village, and it was something the stoic, yet sensitive would-be paladin could not quire put his finger on why.

From behind where he was kneeling, the wooden doors of the shrine creaked and groaned as they opened suddenly, shattering the blissful illusion of peace that encircled it. Light footsteps could be heard as they trod on the cold stone floor behind Gil. They were the footsteps of one who could be completely silent...Ö.if they deigned it necessary.

"I thought I'd find you here Gil."

The voice was both feminine and lightly accented, with a slight lilt that made it sound almost musical in tone. Which was not surprising really given the speaker hailed from lands far far south -- a place that Gil had never heard of, let alone knew of.

The speaker was a woman who was smaller than him in height, with burning red hair and eyes that were a cold, almost glacier-like shade of blue. She was dressed head to toe in chain-linked armour, with a sword belted to her waist. Her elongated ears gave away her elven origins. With a warm smile, the elf reached into a pouch hanging from her belt and, with a deft motion, she flicked something up in the air. Something that caught the ray of the sun through the holes in the rooftop and sparkled before it landed on the floor next to Gil with a light tinkle.

"A coin for your thoughts this morn?"

The elf's relationship with Gil was an unusual one. The reclusive elven woman usually shied away from human contact, yet lived in the surrounding farmlands around the area, silently watching over the predominantly human village. The two of them had met by chance a year ago, when she had come to Gil's aid in repelling a small goblin band who had made the mistake of trying to attack the village. Perhaps it was a mutual respect and desire to protect the inhabitants of the village -- despite their differences, but whatever it was, the two had struck a firm friendship over the last year.

"You feel it too, don't you?" Gil responded as he stood slowly, leaning down to pick up the coin.

With a small smile, he flipped the coin between his fingers dextrously, finally tossing it up in the air to land on the palm of his outstretched hand.

"Something is wrong Leyla," the smile on his face darkened as he considered. "I don't know what it is, but I feel the wrongness hanging in the air."

With a swift and smooth motion, he flicked the coin in the air back over towards her.

"Any ideas?" he finished.

Last edited by Demandredd; Jan 23rd, 2021 at 12:18 PM.
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  #30  
Old Jan 16th, 2021, 04:07 PM
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Well this sounds right up my ally, a good story with a little less combat. I will try to get a character together in the next few days.
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