[D&D-5e] The Shadow of the Devourer

[Vaynol]

Game Name The Shadow of the Devourer

Game System DnD 5e

Theme An emotional and physical journey through a land dying from starvation. A battle for survival against corruption in all its forms

Flavour Gothic Horror, Survival Horror, Role-Play and Emotional Interactions

Plot Summary Village of the Damned I saw that the Host of Heaven was dark and rode no more in the sky. There are no gods here in this disease stricken land of blight and poverty. And yet still the dust-covered gates of the land were opened, and the pretender god rode forth with a crown of iron and a sword of flame. His raiment bled the blood of the innocent and he smote all the lands of the world. His form was of fire and shadow, and his name was Famine. At dawn the priests woke us and told us it was time. The people lined up along cobblestone laden streets, clutching in their skeletal hands the meagre offerings they had to give. In the street the windows and doors of every house were flung open and the hearths were cold. This day, each day at the same time was the ritual of Zhakata’s Taking. We stood there, in a line, for over three hours before they arrived. The priest came in flanked by a contingent of armed warriors, but they weren’t alone, this we knew. In the shadows, the Inquisition watched silently. The first townsman, head bowed, approached the proest and announced our willingness to provide food to the Devourer. With a grunt and a wave of his hand, the priest dismissed the townsman and sent the warriors into the houses around. Almost immediately, there were sounds of breaking furniture. I heard screams, and the sounds of people being hurt. I ignored it. It was better not to hear. Women buried their heads in their husbands chests as they tried to stifle their tears. Then the warriors came and grabbed men to start loading up packs of food ~~ it was well past midday when the loading was done. The food was gone, given to the honour of the Devourer, for this was the ritual of Zhakata’s Taking. More would die this night, but then death of starvation would bring great favour in the eyes of Zhakata the Devourer. When they were done the priest announced the Devourer blessing on us and commented on the wisdom of our townspeople for not trying to hide any of the food. The priest reminded us that the Devourer only punished those who were disloyal. The Wasteland What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow, Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, You cannot say, or guess, For you know only a heap of broken images, Where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And the dry stone no sound of water, Only there is shadow under this red rock, Come in under the shadow of this red rock, And I will show you something different from either, Your shadow at morning, striding behind you, Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you, I will show you fear in a handful of dust. --TS Eliot, the Wasteland I will show you fear in a handful of dust. In the demiplane of dread, the land of G'Henna is a broken wasteland. Ruled over by High Priest Yagno Petrovna, it is a land that cries out for change. In the city, famine and disease spread. Those who are not of the priesthood, or within Yagno's inner circle waste away, slowly dying of starvation. Illness runs through the city streets like wildfire, claiming countless hundreds of lives. And while the High Priest of Zhakata and his associates live easy and comfortable lives, around them they sit uncaring as their subjects die. None dare to speak out against their ruler, as whilst Yagno rules the land itself, his fearsome Inquisition rules the shadows. And as people are taken off the streets for crimes both real and perceived, the populace are cowed into submission by the threat of death....or worse. The High Priest deliberately starves his people in the name of his God, Zhakata the Devourer. Outside the cities, things are no better. The land itself is twisted and shattered. The badlands are a hellish mockery of the land that G'Henna once was before Yagno's descent into madness. A wind echoes through the broken outlands....a swirling wind that contains within it a mournful cry. It is a cry of regret, for the land itself recognises that it is slowly dying. The wind brings no relief from the terrible heat. Instead, it carries with it swirling storms of dust. Worse than that, with the wind come the harbingers of death. Twisted misshapen monstrosities, silhouettes against the fading sun howl their lament. They see, just as the land itself does that this -- this is the end of all things. Little do the beaten and cowed people of G'Henna realise though that change is coming. Deep inside the darkest bowels of the city, a small flame of rebellion flickers. A group of conspirators have taken things into their own hands. It is time, they say, to depose the High Priest and enforce change. They believe that there is another aspect of the God, Zhakata the Provider, and that with Yagno's death, he will come and the land will be saved. G'Henna is a land calling out for change and the people will soon see change, whether they like it or not. Into this demonic cauldron you come, pursuing something dear to you lost inside this dreadful realm. Chasing shadows and fragmented dreams and memories, you soon find yourself in a situation beyond your comprehension and abilities to cope with. This is not just a fight against a terrible evil, it is a battle against the land itself that would strip you of all that you are. As you watch innocents die of starvation around you, even as you decide whether or not to hold onto your own dwindling supplies of food and water, there is one question that you will come to ask. Which is the greater evil -- the one that you can see, or the one that lurks within the shadows waiting to strike? The Lost Soul Wanders ”I know what brings you here,” the speaker is an old woman, an impossible mannikin, far too gaunt to be human. “You are lost, that is why you are here. That is why I am here. The lost come to me, and I help them find the way. Your heart and soul are divided, and you come to seek the missing part of yourself. You are not the first, there are others who came here before you. They also seek that which is lost to them.” Behind the old woman is a small wooden wagon strapped to two horses as a young man tends to the horses. To the side a fire crackles merrily in the evening breeze, and a thin plume of smoke arcs upwards into the night sky. Around the camp sit other figures, taking in the warmth emanating out from the wisps of flame coming from the crackling fire. “Sit, be at ease this night. Sit and eat. Nothing will harm you here.” the woman’s smile is genuine, yet there is an slight inflection to her cracking voice, an emphasis on the last sentence. There was a truth to her words that cut deep, and yet little could you know that this would be the last night for a long long time that you could rest easily. Before you can sit, a hand reaches out to touch your arm gently. The woman gazes at you with a strange intensity, and as she speaks she addresses not just you, but the rest of the travellers sitting next at the campfire. “Remember this, if the world around you gets dark, and all seems lost, never forget. All is illusion, all is smoke and mirrors. Only by waking the dreamer to the dream can the evil be dispelled.” She smiles again, bowing her head as she retreats to her wagon, closing the door behind her. That night, regardless of your plans and your actions, sleep came easily to each and every one of you. One by one you slide into a deep, dreamless sleep. And when you wake, the world has changed evermore. About the Game This is a 5th Edition game set within Ravenloft, the Demiplane of Dread. I will warn you in advance, this game will deal with some mature themes. If you like your games to be traditional heroic fantasy with happy endings, this is likely not the game for you. Here in Ravenloft there are no guarantees of you making it out alive, and there are certainly no guarantees of happy endings. Death is the only constant that you will know -- and if that atmosphere of dread and defeat that should be present in a Ravenloft game are not present then I am failing in my duty as the DM of this game. As the introduction above might provide an indication, you will be forced to make some terrible, terrible moral decisions through the course of the game. Whilst your own food and water supplies dwindle low, and there is every chance of starvation, do you give some of what you have over to a starving peasant family, knowing what you give them may only delay the end temporarily, or do you hold back, knowing that they will not survive the night? These are the sorts of questions that I will pose to you throughout the game. There are no right or wrong answers in this game -- there is no black and white. The question I ultimately ask of you is this -- will you do what is necessary to survive long enough to free the land from the circle of darkness that it is trapped inside, no matter the cost? What I am looking for are strong role-players and storytellers who will thrive in a situation like this. If you, using an example, as clerics and paladins of a god of light, fall during the course of the adventure because of your own morally grey actions, can you role-play this? That is the sort of player I am looking for here. For those brave and stout of heart, here is a quick guide as to what I am looking for in an application: Name: Race: Class: Gender: Age: Personality Traits: Background: Bond: Ideal: Flaw: Provide me with more detailed information on the following: Appearance: Personality: A more in-depth description of your traits listed above Backstory: RP Sample: Acceptable sources are PHB, TCoE, XgtE and Van Richtens only. Starting Level when the game begins will be Level 4. Above, I have provided a scene where you come across a strange woman on your travels. This is your entry point to the Demiplane of Dread, and where you will meet the other characters. We will start the game at the end of that scene but before you enter the Demiplane, where you will get a brief chance to roleplay introductions with each other before the story begins. Each of your characters will be in search of someone, or something, important to them that they have lost, which I would like to see built into the background and/or roleplay sample. This will form an important part of this game, as my intention is to build this personal quest of your characters into the overarching storyline. If you need help determining something suitable for the game then I’m happy to help you with this, just let me know. I would also like you to answer me the following questions about your characters, you may either answer these directly or build these answers into either your backstory or roleplay sample. 1) Tell me what your characters greatest achievement is. 2) Tell me what your character’s greatest fear is. 3) Tell me something in your characters past that they are particularly proud of. 4) Tell me something in your characters past that they are ashamed of. Lastly, in secret text to me, I would like you to list 4-5 other applications that you would like to play alongside. Having a good group and player synergy is really important to me. That is not to say that I will go and pick those people noted, but I would at least like to take it into consideration if nothing else. I will announce a closing date for this in due course.

[Vaynol]

Reserved

[delpinator]

name lathandriel
race half elf
gender male
age 40
class rogue 2 warlock 2(undead)
Background "archeologist"
traits I never give up. Fame is more important than money.
ideals greed. I do nothing without expecting a reward.
bond I will bring prestige to the explorers league of Elymtheas.
flaws I hate waiting for my next adventure becoming jittery and unfocused.
personality lathandriel is greedy and hasty. His pride is unmatched and this he would boast. What's wrong with taking pride in your work after all?

Background lathandriel was born in elymtheas. He was a half breed neither being elven or man. Though this gave him unnatural charisma to skirt his way along the elven city it kept him from becoming respected in neither the culture of man nor the culture of elf. He was able to get into the explorers league and paid his dues. He began to make a name for himself doing ruins other's would be afraid to do. With this brought fame and fame fortune. He enjoyed his life until he found the artifact of tutenkhanen a mysterious ball he didn't fully understand. It gave him unnatural abilities and magic. He refused to turn in the artifact and was shunned from the league. He began to let the power consume him. He was strong and could withstand greater challenges. It caused his skin to crack though. He would develop calluses and exema. Many said he would nearly stop breathing at night. The power was a curse but no one seemed to have an answer to solve this.

[Vaynol]

I actually just saw this in another ad thread, and its a really good idea so apologies to those of you who's idea I have just shamelessly stolen here... Once we have the numbers of applications to do so, I'd like each player to think about 4-5 of the other applications and in secret text to me list which characters you'd like to play alongside. I'd like a group with good synergy both in terms of players and characters.

To be clear, that is not in any way a guarantee that I will pick out of one particular list, but I would at the very least like to take it into consideration if nothing else. Hope that's ok with everyone.

[Grouchy]

Interested. Are you leaning more towards the "see how far good will fall" approach or is there some PCs of a dubious nature allowed?

When you said looking for someone, I immediately thought of a reborn warrior looking for the man who killed him but he's not exactly chivalrous.

[Vaynol]

Dubious nature is absolutely fine with me, although I'd like to keep to non-evil. The "see how far good will fall" was more of an example of the sorts of things that will come up rather than a hard and fast rule on what alignment you should take.

[Grouchy]

App complete.

Character Concept Name: Wilhelm Race: Reborn (Humanoid Undead) Class: Fighter 4 (Champion) Gender: Male Age: 23 at the time of his death Background: Outlander (Tribal Nomad) Personality Traits: Strength and power are the only things that will earn my respect. I am haunted by violent imagery from my past and I can't seem to get the images out of my head no matter what I try to do. Bond: Self-Fulfillment. Achieving my goal comes before everyone and everything else. (Chaotic) Ideal: I seek to find Vincent, the man who killed me, and enact my vengeance. Flaw: I sometimes wonder if I was an evil person in my past life. Appearance: Wilhelm is a tall, somber man with ashen skin and long black hair pulled back into a ponytail. He has coarse facial features with a pair of dark brown eyes under a heavy brow, a wide flat nose, and thin bloodless lips. He has a thick ratty looking beard and across his neck is a gruesome looking scar that shows his throat was once cut somehow. He hunches slightly forward which gives you the impression he is taller than he first appears, and he has a well muscled frame with thick limbs and large hands. He wears a suit of dull and battered-looking chain mail but without a tabard, and around his waist is a thick leather belt from which hangs a brace of hand axes and a hammer of war. Strapped to his back is a massive greatsword, its leather grip dirty and unkempt. A faint odor of uncleanliness emanates from his person. When he speaks his voice is deep and booming, with a raspy edge to it. Personality: Wilhelm is slow to speak but quick to act, weighing his words much more carefully than his own actions. He is not impressed by fancy titles or birthrights - being born into wealth does not warrant you any respect from those who have had to earn what they own with their blood and their steel. Strength and power are to be respected more than anything, and anyone who has either will garner his. Wilhelm considers himself an honorable man to a point, which is why he is driven so much by vengeance to find Vincent and take his head as repercussions for what he has done to Wilhelm. He can be honest to a fault and is not well educated, but he possesses an instinctive cunning and the fighting blood of his tribe, making him a talented warrior. Wilhelm regularly has flashing memories of violent conflict - murder, fire, pillaging, ravishing, and the clash of steel. He often yearns for the truth behind those images, to really understand what it is he is seeing, but sometimes a memory will flash in his mind which unsettles him. For these memories make Wilhelm think he is the one doing such things, rather than witnessing them being done. Sometimes he is glad he does not remember, because Wilhelm fears he may once have been an evil man.   Backstory: Wilhelm does not remember much of who he was. He has snippets that reminds him he grew up in the grasslands somewhere, as part of an unnamed tribe of nomadic warriors. He remembers riding horses and believes he may have even been married at one point, but cannot remember a thing about her so he is unsure. He does remember conflict though - a lot of it. Although the images are often cloudy and out of sequence, he recalls violent skirmishes with other tribes and the aftermath, the murdering and razing of those left behind. He does remember one opposing tribe who hired mercenaries to help them fight, and he does remember Vincent. Vincent. That was the name on his lips when he crawled out of his shallow grave, his comrades apparently unaware that he somehow survived his gruesome injury. Vincent was one of those mercenaries from his best recollection, and it was Vincent who slashed his throat wide open and killed him. Why Wilhelm is still alive, he cannot fathom. He was never much of a religious man to begin with - at least that he can remember - but Vincent gave him a reason to return and enact his own vengeance against that bastard. The problem is Wilhelm cannot remember his face or much else about him - he just remembers his name, that he was a sellsword, and he was particularly fast and quick with his longsword that he wielded in his left hand. That's not a lot to go on, but when you have nothing else to live for, that can be enough.   RP Sample: In the pitch black, he hears a small voice. Vincent... It's said in a soft voice, almost as if a mother is attempting to rouse her child for the day. He pays it no mind - it is not his name, he knows that. And he is relaxed and sleepy. They must be talking to someone else. Vincent... He hears the name again. Why are they bothering him? Let him sleep. Go find whomever else you are looking for, he thinks to himself, slowly starting to feel the fog of sleep fade from him. VINCENT! The name is harsh, guttural, screaming even. And he wakes up. Vincent! He suddenly remembers. He remembers the man Vincent in front of him. A sellsword, though his face is shadowy and unknown. He holds a longsword in his left hand as the two face off in battle. He feels Vincent's longsword slashing across his own throat. He feels the pain of his flesh being torn open and the hot blood pouring from his throat. The taste of crimson and bile in his mouth as he gagged and gasped. He feels his legs give away and the smell of blood in the air as he lies, kicking and gurgling before he dies. But I'm not dead! he thinks to himself as he feels cold rock against his face. The weight of the world feels upon him but somehow, he can see, although barely. I need to get out! he thinks to himself, and he begins twisting and moving his arms and legs. At first it does not seem like it is doing anything, but slowly but surely he can feel rock and dirt shifting around him. I need to get out!! he screams in his mind, now able to twist his body as his hands begin reaching out, digging wildly for something. Anything. He begins to feel wind blowing on his right hand as his left continues to swim and push away everything he can. "GET OUT!" he screams as his face finally breaks loose from the dirt and rocks, choking on the dirt and hacking loudly. He fights to stand, ripping the earth around him with his arms until his legs begin to come free, and then thrashing his legs until he can stand. Finally, he rises up and screams once again, this time unintelligible but full of both anger at his circumstances but glee in being free once again. He looks up at the moon and feels a warm feeling inside - this must be happiness. He is glad to be free. Right? As he begins rending the earth around him to create footholds so he can climb out of the small pit he has found himself in, he hears the scraping of steel against stone. Digging through the dirt, he finds a massive two-handed sword with an inscription on the scabbard. Wiping the dirt free, he sees a name - "Wilhelm". Is that my name? he wonders. This must be his sword he was buried with. So it must be his name. And, for some reason, he does feel like his name would be Wilhelm. The hilt feels good in his hands. Familiar. Comfortable. Yes. This must be his sword. And Wilhelm must be his name. Climbing out of the dirt hole with his newfound sword, Wilhelm (for he now thinks of this as he) draws his sword experimentally. Holding it in both hands, it feels good. It feels... right. He gives it some hard strokes in the air and recognizes that it seems like he knows what he is doing with this blade. Yes. This is mine. This is my sword. And I am Wilhelm. Vincent. The name repeats in his head once again. Yes, Vincent. I need to find him. He's the one who killed me. He's the one who I am looking for. Because he is the one who will die the next time. Wilhelm straps the sword to his back, instinctively moving it to a familiar place and he marvels on this realization. Whatever he may be, he seems capable enough. Capable enough to kill Vincent. And that's all I want to do now, he thinks to himself. Looking at the moon, he determines which way is east. For whatever reason, east seems to be the way to go. As he begins stepping, dirt clouds emit from his legs and arms as he begins moving once again. Moving to where, he does not know. But he knows who he is looking for. Vincent.

[krossingkhory]

WORK IN PROGRESS

Character Concept Name: Zephyra Moonwhisper Race: Hexblood Class: Warlock 1 (Undead) / Wizard 3 (Necromancy) Gender: Female Age: Appears to be mid-30s with the makeup...and a really old hag without. Alignment: Chaotic Good. However, if she "falls", she will go towards Neutral Evil. Mechanical Background: Archaeologist Personality 1 I have no qualms about stealing from the dead. Personality 2: Traps don't make me nervous. Idiots who trigger traps make me nervous. Ideal: Immortality. All my exploring is part of a plan to find the secret of everlasting life. (Chaotic) Bond: Ever since I was a child, I've heard stories about a lost city. I aim to find it, learn its secrets, and earn my place in the history books. Flaw: I talk to myself, and I don't make friends easily. Appearance Zephyra appears as a young, slender woman in good health and spirits. Her face is covered with black and white makeup, giving her the look of an animated skull. She wears a red cloak with the hood pulled up, long white hair flowing out from under it. She prefers to wear darker clothing underneath the cloak, the blacks and browns hiding the dirt she inadvertently gets on herself while waltzing through ruins and graveyards alike. But this is a lie, her young features hidden by makeup and magic. In reality, Zephyra is an old, wrinkled hag-like creature, folded over pockets of ashen skin drooping this way and that. She has several missing teeth, the ones remaining pitted and rotten, and her hair is a stringy mess of long, greasy black tendrils. Her clothing is ratted and torn, her bloated stomach threatening to always break free of the time-worn tunics and dresses she wears. Personality It's not that Zephyra is boring. She just has a very dry, very droll outlook on things. She views life as one of two constants that everyone must deal with, coupled with death being the other. She isn't macabre or gross, but a bit introverted and single-minded when it comes to her study of the afterlife. The religious symbols people hold dear in this life, and how they impact one's views on what may happen to them after they pass, as it were. She has a unique insight into this, what with her being a hag-spawn AND her Warlock patron already having released itself from this life to have a fulfilling after. And because she wishes to get to the point her patron is already at, she has a determined focus to find those secrets, almost at the cost of everything else. She is studious and patient, knowing that she has not only the years in this life, but all of every eternity in the afterlife to find the secrets she desires. Yes, she very well could meet her end early in this life. But the body is just a shell, a vessel to hold the soul until death releases it into the next plane. Elves die young compared to the years she'll have to study in the presence of her master, and so she views the passage of time here on this plane in a very different light. Fast and slow, coming and going, forward and back; it is all the same to her, and it will mean nothing when she finds the secret to immortality. Backstory

RP Sample A 30ish minute example of how this character will act during the game.

Questions I would also like you to answer me the following questions about your characters, you may either answer these directly or build these answers into either your backstory or roleplay sample. 1) Tell me what your character's greatest achievement is. Having been accepted by the undead patron. Zephyra was already a fairly accomplished Necromancer, but to be taken in by one who has already crossed over was a dream come true. She wishes to do nothing but make them proud, and follow in their footsteps. 2) Tell me what your character’s greatest fear is. Losing her power. Being stripped of all magical ability, Warlock and Wizard and Hexblood, is a fright she can't even fathom. What would become of her if she simply ceased being able to talk to her patron, or read the books upon which her spells are written? 3) Tell me something in your character's past that they are particularly proud of. Breaking away from the hag coven. Her parents, wishing to flee from oppression and try to make a better life, made a deal with someone to leave the city. That someone turned out to be a hag, and without fully understanding what they were agreeing to, the hag took Zephyra from them - rather forcefully, for they didn't wish to just give up the child - and ran off to raise her to become another hag. Hags are more powerful when they have their own coven of three, and Zephyra was to be that third member. But she always knew that there was more to life than living a mostly solitary existence, cooped up in a rundown barn with 2 other hags. Standing her ground, breaking the coven, making her own life - she is most proud of finding the courage to do so. Granted, the Undead patron helped her, but that's another story. 4) Tell me something in your character's past that they are ashamed of. Zephyra borders on having no conscience, and therefore she has no shame about anything. She has some regrets, which come close, one of which is that she regrets not breaking free sooner. She was already in her 30th winter before deciding she would break off, and even then it was several more winters before she did. And after having done so, she sees the world and its wonders - wonders hidden from her by the others - and she regrets not making her own way sooner than she did. She isn't ashamed of taking so long, but rather she just wishes she would have done so sooner.

[kaylara]

Sorry, don't want to over commit. So I will withdraw.

 

Lunara Moonshadow Name: Lunara Moonshadow Race: Dhampir Class: Druid (4) Circle of the Moon Gender: Female Age: 122 Personality Traits: I place no stock in wealthy or well-mannered folk. Money and manners won't save you from a hungry owlbear. Background: Outlander Bond: I am the last of my tribe, and it is up to me to ensure their names enter legend. Ideal: Change. Life is like the seasons, in constant change, and we must change with it. Flaw: I am slow to trust members of other races, tribes, and societies. Appearance: Lunara appearance is due to her Elvin and vampric heritage which give her light almost white skin and white hair. Her plump lips help hide the fact she has fangs. Personality: Lunara is a fiercely independent druid with a gentle touch, her spirit intertwined with the moonlit whispers of the forest. She possesses a deep empathy for all living creatures, despite the hunger she often feels, yet her cautious nature often shields her from forming close bonds. Her wisdom is profound, drawn from countless nights spent in silent communion with nature and the ancient spirits that dwell in the shadows. She is as mysterious as the moonlit glade she calls home. Her unwavering loyalty to her dragon ally, Moonshadow, is the one constant in her otherwise solitary existence. Backstory: Life is not always easy being born to an elvin mother and vampire father who abandoned their child in the woods. Luckily the moon shined a blood red that night as she was taken in by a moon sect who viewed it as a blessing. Raised by the reclusive druidic circle of the moon, Lunara's earliest memories are of the wild's embrace and the stories of the ancient spirits that shaped the world. However, her most memorable experience was when her mentor took her to several large nearby cities to what they called Zoo's where she was able to see every common animal from the forest, grass lands, hills, mountains and swamp areas. She was taught about the other area's, the arctic, coast, desert, under dark and underwater creatures, but she would have to venture out and discover those for herself. However, soon after her mentor fell to a creature of the night. Being the last of her circle meant that she inherited the mantle of the Moon Circle and the guardianship of the rare and powerful dragon, Moonshadow. Driven by her desire to protect the balance of nature, she roamed the lands, seeking knowledge and battling the encroaching forces of civilization that threaten her sacred realm. Her path is guided by the ever-changing cycles of the moon, which resonate deeply within her soul. Till one knight her dragon ally did not return from his hunt. Worried that the worst may have happened, she grabbed her adventuring gear and sought outside aid and asked her friends to accompany her as they visited the old fortune teller in her wagon just on the outskirts of the woods. The fortune tellers words were not what she expected though rest that evening did come easy. However, the next morning was quite a shocker as we all woke up finding ourselves in a strange land. RP Sample: --- Years ago, before the "incident" when she was around 100 years old --- Dressed in some inappropriate attire, Lunara and friends were on the way to discuss and plan out things for the "spiritual healing" fest the Percy's were about to throw, Lunara spotted a group of thugs that were setting up an ambush for them. Making no visual acknowledgement of what she saw as she Naughty Boyssnickered softly and in a quieter tone, commented to the group. Well there seems to be some thugs up ahead. I'm sure we will meet them soon enough unless we throw them off and take a shorter route. she glanced over at Billy with a smile. My home is a bit safer than this place. That group of thugs would have a less chance of following us. she paused a moment looking out in the distance with a devious grin. Unless of course you want to attempt "Diplomacy?" she gives a playful smile, waiting to find out if he wanted to fight off the bandits or not. Then, after he shakes his head "No". The decision is made to avoid them, Follow me... Lunara says as she swiftly moves north east, into the merchant district. Most of the merchants stack goods between them as the alleyways are usually clogged with boxes and crates. She continues thru a congested area and by moving a single crate opens up one of the alleyways between a two vendors, allowing access to the city east gate. Looking back she smiles at the party, Were almost there. Hope you didn't mind the woods, as it was apparent she knew the area around her home well.

Additional Info 1) Greatest achievement: Becoming a full fledged Druid of the Moon Circle and protector by preventing an undead invasion that would have plagued her circle and nearby city. 2) Greatest fear: Succumbing to her hunger and somehow becoming a true vampire. 3) Particularly proud of: Becoming good friends and Moonshadow's guardian. 4) Past that am ashamed of: Losing control and my vampric side showing/coming out at inconvenient times. Especially if she hasn't sedated her hunger in a long time.

Thoughts on other apps - WIP

[silveroak]

Character Concept Name: Brysatra Wateredge Race: Firbolg Class: Druid (4) (Land, Desert) Gender: Male Alignment: Lawful Neutral Age: 94 Background: Guild Artisan (Merchant) Personality Traits: apologizes constantly, lets people talk over him Bond: He serves the land and his clan, in that order Ideal:A deal once struck must always be honored Flaw: Very submissive with attractive women Appearance: 8'6" and 400 lbs with golden tan skin and sandy hair, Bry can pass, sometimes, for a very large human. With a bit of disguise magic he can appear to be a human who is only above average in size. Personality: "Bry" is quiet, always accustomed to being in someone else's shadow within his clan, both figuratively and literally. His accomplishments have been minimalized and his mistakes are magnified. He is socially awkward, especially around women, and has learned it is generally better to remain silent. The rare exceptions to this are when he is away from the tribe, but even then his joy from being free of the tribe's oppression is balanced by the guilt of betraying his tribe with his feelings. Backstory: Brystara belongs to a tribe of Firbolg inhabiting a jungle oasis in the midst of the desert. His family are responsible for keeping the oasis hidden. Human traders would find the abundant dates, digs, and olives in the middle of a potential desert trade route to be a heaven sent boon, shortly before they despoiled it for profit. as part of this his family runs a merchant business themselves, stopping through the oasis but living lightly from it, and ensuring they balance everything they use. Recently a human, or some member of a human adjacent race, slipped into the jungle and stole the acorn of bounty- a silver acorn that had been brought by the tribe millennia ago when the desert was still grasslands. The magic of the acorn is tied to the plane Brytara comes from, but while there it increases the abundance of plant life tenfold. someone apparently stole it and brought it to the demi-plane of desolation in order to try and grow food there. Brystara has been chosen to retrieve the clan relic, to balance a debt his foolishness had created in the past, and hopefully free him from the stigma so he might be chosen as a mate. RP Sample: Qiven Palmshadow towered above him, 11 foot six with deep ebony skin, Of course she did not wear clothes, that was a human custom, or so it was expressed in the jungle. Personally he suspected that anyone would wear coverings crossing the desert. Bry's mouth went dry, the way it always did when Qiven was nearby, especially when she was looking at him. she was looking at him now. "Bry, the silver acorn is missing." His heart sunk. It might take decades, but without the acorn their jungle home would wilt. Most of it anyways. he had seen human run oasis, small circles of cultivated crops extending a short distance from a pool of water. The acorn had to be returned. "You know what that means, don't you?" She smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile, and certainly not the smile he wanted to see when she looked at him. It was a cruel smile. Not a fun cruel either. It had been years since his family had borne the shame of his failure. They operated at very small profits to discourage competition, and it meant their offerings of balance to the jungle had fallen behind. everyone knew whose fault that was. What Qiven was implying should have been a blessing, a chance to balance the misdeed, and then some. Her smile indicated that it was nothing so generous. He swallowed the lump that was forming in his mouth against the dryness of his mouth and nodded. The smile grew bigger. "Good, I'll let the elders tell you what we know, and you can set about getting it back." She led the way to the council circle. He knew the way himself, but there was no way he was not going to follow her. He watched her hips sway hypnotically as she led him to his doom. Maybe if he managed to bring back the acorn she would see him in a better light. Maybe then she would smile with the fun kind of cruelty.

Additional Information Greatest Achievement: Navigated a sandstorm without losing any animals Greatest Fear Dwarven women, especially ones with beards. He isn't comfortable with how he feels around them. Particularly Proud of: His sister who has claimed three men as trophies of her trading skills. Past that I am ashamed of: Was tricked into buying stolen goods which he had to return to their proper owner

[allstarr]

Originally Posted by Vaynol

What level are we starting at? Or are we selecting from a range?

In another game, I'm playing a morally gray (fluxes between chaotic good to chaotic neutral) Twilight Cleric, whose Deity is the Raven Queen, a "minor goddess of death." Amongst other things, he's been called by her to hunt down traffickers, who have taken potential devotees. He's to rescue them, and bring her wrath upon those who would rob her of potential devotees. She thrives on memories, and the memories of the devotees helps sustain her. That's borrowed from the Forgotten Realms wiki on her, so, there's no issues regarding "gray issues." The main difference is that for this, I would like to play a Peace Domain Cleric, with things like Emboldening Bond, which encourages PCs to keep close together, to have buffs, which can stack with Bless, to eventually go beyond the spells buffs, and to actually bond as characters.

Name: Richie Snare, Male
Race: Variant Human (War Caster Feat)
Class: Peace Domain Cleric
Age: 27

Traits: I judge people by their actions, not
their words. I’m confident in my own
abilities and do what I can to instill
confidence in others.

Ideals: Destiny. Nothing and no one can steer
me away from my higher calling.

Bonds: I have a family, but I have no idea where they are. One day, I hope to see them (my sons were amongst those taken by traffickers)

Flaws: I am suspicious of strangers and expect the worst of them. (Fear, that won't ever be reunited with my sons).

Fair skin. Blue Hair. Red eyes. (playing of the "variant," looks like there may be some elven background, but all traits are human).

As mentioned above, Richie's determined to find the trafficking rings, and bring them down, both at the behest of his goddess, and for his personal drive to get his sons back. He's willing to align with whoever will help him bring such beings down. Does have a witty sense of humor, balanced with a duty to help those in need. Won't harm the innocent, but if an "innocent" tries to harm him or his allies, he has no qualms about defending himself, lethally, if needed.


RP: "Welcome to the Luminary Starr Manor sir and ladies. I am Bastion Noir, the Head Stewart and Butler of these denizens. As you may surmise, I am a water geshin and Levistus Tiefling."

"I'm Shion Midford, the head maid, a fire geshin and a protector Aasmir."

"I am Benimaru Rin, head of the grounds, and of security, half Star Elf, Half Mountain Dwarf."

"I'm Erica Treewall, now field leader of the tower troops. I'm the 'boring human.'"

The party of 5, having successfully run their gambit in the coliseum, are now the new owners of a small noble manor, complete with it's own fortified tower and complimentary guard. All of them are still speechless at now being the actual owners of such a place; Ram and Rem had worked at a similar sized place for Roswaal, but to be a part owner still seemed like something from a fantasy. Nami briefly thought how no one would really be able to tell if she was speechless, from how she normally is, though these thoughts involved fewer words.

"I am curious, Bastion, as to what happened to the prior owners. Usually, even when the lord or lady pass, there are heirs. Or there are other family members to take it over."

"Yes, Sir Richie. Usually, that is the case. However, the family was decimated by a large battalion of the Cult of Bane. There are some very remote and distant family, but they refused to associate with the place, fearing that they may invite The Cult of Bane's attention on them. This one is far enough from the main city, that no real security aide would come, but still within the realm of the royal family. Hence, several generations back, the fortified tower was added, and a group of mercenaries were hired on."

"If that's true, then why was the family essentially destroyed?" Ram asks, not hiding her suspicions.

"That would be because the family went for a reunion festival, reuniting the various other main branches, or clans. Most of the guards, and my predecessor, were with them, and also died. My predecessor tried to impress upon the lord and lady that with all of their high profile opposition to The Cult of Bane, that they should have a stripped down celebration, here, where, if the worst happened, we could properly defend at the tower. They both refused, not wanting to let The Cult intimidate them to the point of where they couldn't live their lives. Now, all of their main entourage, has been slaughtered, and left for the wild to eat. Each head of the main families--man, woman, boy, and girl--was decapitated, with their heads on pikes...I lost many of my fellow compatriots that day, a little more than a year ago."

1. A tie between the birth of his sons, and being able to tap into the divine powers as a Cleric.
2. Never reuniting with his sons.
3. Rescuing one set of kids from a ring, and returning them to their family, in his remote hometown.
4. Not realizing until it was too late that some of the town leaders were a part of the ring, setting the party up for ambush on their way back to report, resulting in him being the only survivor, his sons being stolen, and he being indicated by those leaders as a member of the ring.

Richie Snare

[Greyling]

Application complete

Leaf Name: Leaf Race: "Half-Orc"Mixed (Human/Orc) Class: Druid (Moon) Gender: Age: 27 Background: Outlander Personality Traits: I'm always picking things up, absently fiddling with them, and sometimes accidentally breaking them.   I feel far more comfortable around animals than people. Bond: My family, clan, or tribe is the most important thing in my life, even when they are far from me. Ideal: Change. Life is like the seasons, in constant change, and we must change with it. Flaw: I am too enamored of ale, wine, and other intoxicants. Provide me with more detailed information on the following: Appearance: Filling out many a door frame, Leaf's toned muscular frame stands at 6' 3" is covered in cool hued grey skin. Meeting his gaze finds a pair of deep brown eyes and tusked mouth, with long black hair and trimmed beard and chops. Three parallel scars mark from the top left of his face down diagonally. Most often dressed in leather pants, a leather vest or weapon harness, and fur skin bracers. He has a pair of shoes for special occasions (or more likely tavern restrictions on shoeless customers), but prefers barefoot to feel the ground beneath his feet. Personality: Leaf is a naturally quiet person. Preferring to a short statement over a long story; a word over a statement; or a gesture over a word. Saving his words for those he cares deeply for, and/or the moments of deep meaning to him. His mood usually that of a calm, peaceful summer day, but when threatened he can be a feral beast (literally). Backstory:   Growing up part of a working tribe name: Stoneteethnomadic tribe in the grasslands, Leaf learned from a young age how to navigate, forage, track, and hunt. Occasionally the tribe would skirt the edge of a town where they would barter, but out in nature was where he felt at home. Sure there were dangers. Wild animals and rival tribes. During one of these encounters was when he met Raisa. She was being attacked by a panther. His kin were apprehensive, but Leaf rushed to her rescue. During the skirmish Leaf was scarred, and Raisa was pushed off a cliff and into water. Not knowing how to swim Raisa began to drown. Diving in after her, Leaf escaped the bear and finished his rescue by pulling her to shore. It wasn't long before they were welcoming another love into their lives. A daughter, Aves. Believing the family had brought some stability into Leaf, the tribal druid took him as his apprentice. The position as much as the family had really provided Leaf a deep sense of peace, but life is in constant change like the seasons. Three seasons into his training, a strange outbreak swept through the tribe, and despite his best efforts Raisa and Aves were lost. In his Looking at playing him through the five stages of grief : denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptancegrief, Leaf needed solitude. The tribe honored his wishes knowing that when Leaf was ready he would return. RP Sample:   What little sound his bare feet made was easily drowned by slow running water. He'd been following a trail from the ambush site, and it had led him down narrow path to here. A cave on the right-hand side of a stream. Just inside the cave mouth the main tunnel branched to a side cavern. Leaf detoured up the few uneven stone steps leading to a small, dank chamber on the east side of the passage. He could see cave narrowed to a steep fissure at the far end. The stench of animals filled the area. Just inside the opening, the druid's ears notice savage snarls and the sounds of shifting chains. Three chained wolves, each with a chain leading to an iron rod driven into the base of a stalagmite. Standing his ground without aggression, Leaf slowly slid a hand into his pack and pulled out a couple of squirrels he had caught earlier that morning. Tossing the meat within the chains' reach. The gestures and kindness eased the wolves' hostility. Tracing three lines down his throat as spoke spell of intent, Leaf addressed the dominant wolf, "who chained you here?" Motioning to the links of metal. Despite his kindness, she looked hesitant, but responded, "cruel, two-legged pack". She looks briefly to the fissure at the back of the chamber. "Their alpha there." "Would you like me to free you?" The druid again motions to the chains. Taking her inclined head as acceptance, Leaf slowly and quietly uses his staff to pry the iron rods out. Wishing them luck he heads to toward the fissure, and is surprised when the wolves accompany him. "Why aren't leaving?" She gives a toothy grin, "you hunt the cruel two-legs? We will hunt with you." Acceptable sources are PHB, TCoE, XgtE and Van Richtens only. Starting Level when the game begins will be Level 4. Above, I have provided a scene where you come across a strange woman on your travels. This is your entry point to the Demiplane of Dread, and where you will meet the other characters. We will start the game at the end of that scene but before you enter the Demiplane, where you will get a brief chance to roleplay introductions with each other before the story begins. Each of your characters will be in search of someone, or something, important to them that they have lost, which I would like to see built into the background and/or roleplay sample. This will form an important part of this game, as my intention is to build this personal quest of your characters into the overarching storyline. If you need help determining something suitable for the game then I’m happy to help you with this, just let me know. I would also like you to answer me the following questions about your characters, you may either answer these directly or build these answers into either your backstory or roleplay sample. 1) Tell me what your characters greatest achievement is. Rescuing a pack of wolves from their abusive goblin masters. 2) Tell me what your character’s greatest fear is. Claustrophobia: Fear of confined spaces 3) Tell me something in your characters past that they are particularly proud of. His family: his mate and child. A small woven bracelet with three beads is his prized possession, made by his daughter. 4) Tell me something in your characters past that they are ashamed of. Failing to save his family.

[Alemar]

Part 1 Name: Tardek the Auroch Race: Half-Orc Class: Paladin (Devotion) Gender: Male Age: 26 Background: Haunted One Trait #1 Nothing is more important than Life, I will never leave anyone in danger Trait #2 I am convinced nobody will fool me the way I can fool others Ideal - Promise - My life is no longer my own, for I must fulfill the legacy of one who is gone. Bond My Mentor may be gone, but his teachings live on in me Flaw The Common folk MUST see me as a hero, no matter what Background Feature: Inheritor (Shield of the Auroch) An ancestor or mentor's deeds earned them a place in legend, now it's your turn. You are the clear inheritor of a famed legacy. You've inherited a token from your predecessor, something that marks you as their inheritor, such as a signet ring, signature piece of clothing, or notable weapon. Additionally, any time you reveal your legacy, you swiftly learn the local opinion of your predecessor. If locals have never heard of your predecessor, nothing changes. If they have, rumors of your connection spread swiftly, and many locals consider you either a hero or a threat. Heroes are welcomed and might easily gain an audience with local leaders. Threats are encouraged to leave before they invite danger.

Part 2 Appearance: Short-cropped hair slicked back with a scented balm keeps the few thick strands away from his piercing blue/grey eyes. A deceptively small frame holds the full weight of his heavy armor well, and though he eats it never seems to sustain the exertions of his body... which appears almost sickly or gaunt in comparison. Personality: Generally reserved and quiet, Tarnek holds himself with a sort of reserved weariness of one who has already accepted his fate. He knows what is expected of him, and always tries to live up to the ideals of truth, honor, and justice...despite the personal costs associated with standing for truth against the tides of darkness. Backstory: As a young boy, in fact as far back as he could remember, Tardek heard stories of the valiant knight known as the Auroch. His shield, his emblem, that of a raging bull standing against the injustice that permeated the lives of everyday people. Every night, when Tardek closed his eyes, he would dream of shimmering armor clad men, standing shoulder to shoulder under the banner of the bull. Cheering and calling him to join them in their glorious battles. At the cusp of puberty Tardek had finally had enough of dreaming... Leaving home in search of the truth behind the legends, Tardek could hardly contain his excitement. Was there actually an Auroch? Had he truly done all of those great deeds that had been attributed to him? For years the young man searched, spending what little money he could earn on food and shelter, and often finding himself being taken advantage of in the process. After all, one teenage boy against the whole world is hardly a fair fight. But one thing was changing within him; As the scales of peace fell from his eyes, a burning anger began to fester in his heart. If the Auroch stood and fought against the evils of the world, where was he? Why was it so hard for Tardek to find someone who was supposed to be visible? A beacon of goodness in the dark? Eventually, Tardek did indeed find one who claimed to be Auroch. And after spending a full year under the tutelage of Master Aidan, the Half-Orc (who was now more a man than boy) awoke one fateful morning to find himself alone in the hovel. His Master's dull shield the only sign of him ever existing. Afraid of what this absence might mean, Tardek left hastily by the still open door... Hoping to find either his Master, or one of his band. "The Aurochs" it had been revealed to him, were not so much a single man, but rather a Collective. A group of Holy Warriors; Paladins, Monks, and Clerics, who had sworn Oaths to aide one another against the coming darkness. All in service of an everlasting peace. Now with his own emblem, he was to be one of their number... If he could find one to administer the Oath, or if not, to take back the shield from him and give him his old life back. RP Sample: After years of searching; tracking down every whisper, following every legend, Tardek finally came across an old man holding the signature shield of the Auroch. It's once proud bull faded from time and countless battles. Arrogantly, the Half-Orc couldn't help but wonder 'How could a knight capable of such legendary feats of strength and bravery be so old and feeble?' Immediately challenging the man for ownership of the shield, thinking that it was stolen or in some other way unearned ...As if any could steal such an item from it's owner... He drew steel down upon the Hermit. The old man leapt to his feet to defend himself. An early warning that his advanced age had done little to impede his movements. As the two exchanged blows, the strength of the old man was undeniable. Youth and vigor breaking upon the iron wall of experience. Forced to yield for a moment to catch his breath, Tardek couldn't help but question his opponent. "How does one such as you still hold such power in your veins? When it looks like any minute you could crumple to dust?" Allowing the young man his reprieve, the Veteran spoke with compassion and care. Answering the question in a flat, matter-of-factness that almost completely disarmed Tardek where he stood. "Training, Willpower, the Blessings of the Gods... Call it what you want, but if I had my choice? Perhaps 'My Curse' is a more appropriate title..." A soft chuckle escaped the man's lips at what must have been the look of utter confusion plastered all over the Half-Breed's face. "What? Did you never wonder how the old stories, as ancient as they are, continued through these many decades? Surely anyone with half a brain would understand that there must be multiple Aurochs! What? Did you think I was some spirit avenger, a phantom that never suffered the ravages of time? Nor felt the stings and aches of old battles? No there are dozens of us, and maybe even you!"

part 3 I would also like you to answer me the following questions about your characters, you may either answer these directly or build these answers into either your backstory or roleplay sample. 1) Tell me what your characters greatest achievement is. Tardek once held-fast against a pack of were-wolves who were terrorizing a small village. Killing the Pack-Alpha, he caused the other wolves to flee back into the forest, temporarily sparing the villagers from a painful and terrifying end. 2) Tell me what your character’s greatest fear is. While dying is not an uncommon fear among many, Tardek is not so much afraid of dying, as he is that through his death he will be unable to pass on the Legacy of the Auroch to the next vassal. 3) Tell me something in your characters past that they are particularly proud of. Tardek feels that his presence in the world actively makes it a better place. He is proud of that fact and that he is able to actually make a difference. 4) Tell me something in your characters past that they are ashamed of. The only reason Tardek is now an Auroch is because the last one disappeared. His entire life is now consumed by the loss of his Master, a loss he may have somehow unknowingly caused?

Part 4 Each of your characters will be in search of someone, or something, important to them that they have lost, which I would like to see built into the background and/or roleplay sample: Tardek is missing his Mentor, "Aidan Frandal the Auroch". While he has been filling in as best he can, Tardek is struggling to carry the mantle of a famous Do-gooder and wants to return the burden back to its rightful owner. His Personality Trait #2 (I am convinced nobody can fool me the way I fool others) is in regards to him not believing that he is worthy to be Auroch. And secretly worrying that perhaps he caused his Mentor to disappear some how. He must continue the act of putting on a brave face for the common folk, who must see him as nothing less than the icon he pretends to be, wearing it literally as a badge on his borrowed shield.

[Drinkslotsa]

Character Concept Name: Soren Romanus Race: Dhampir Class: Bard: College of Lore Gender: Male Alignment: Neutral Evil Age: 126 Background: Acolyte Bond: Knowledge is worth every sacrifice Ideal: Nothing should fetter the infinite possibility inherent in all existence. Flaw: I don't like to fully commit myself unless the odds are overwhelmingly in my favor. Appearance: Personality: Backstory: RP Sample:

Additional Information Greatest Achievement: Achieving undeath through sacrifice to prevent even death from stopping him from acquiring knowledge. Greatest Fear The nothingness of death, even suffering for eternity would be preferred Particularly Proud of: The strength of will it took to sacrifice his family to achieve his goals Past that I am ashamed of: Having had to rely upon a pact with a devil to achieve his goals

[MrD]

Basics Name: Granite Block Race: Half Orc Class: Barbarian ( Ancestral Guardian ) Gender: Male Age: 30 Personality Trait 1: Deeply reverent of those who fight well against him. Personality Trait 2: Distrustful of fast talkers. Background: Gladiator Bond: Pouch of small stones he carries around his neck - Each stone represents someone he respected who lost their life at his side or by his hand. Ideal: "There is no problem that can't be overcome by killing the problem." Flaw: When things get complicated granite gets frustrated quickly and can easily fly into a rage. Perfect in a fights but not so in most civilized circles. He often struggles to keep his temper in check especially around the fast talkers - see personality trait 2. More Detail Appearance: Standing at 6' 8'' Granite is an imposing figure. A life of gladiatorial combat has left him heavily muscled and crisscrossed with scars. His skin is a mottled green and shimmers with flecks of mica and feldspar which became irrevocably embedded in the surface of his skin due to some wayward magic at his birth. This abnormality is where he gets his name from and also the reason his mother sold him to a slaver whilst still a babe in arms. Personality: Not the most intelligent having never received any formal education he is however a tactically astute warrior. Sold to a gladiatorial circus as a babe he's spent most of his life in and around the fighting arenas, learning his trade from the best of the best. He is fiercely loyal to those who fight alongside him. He is respectful of all those who would stand and fight against him. He despises cowardice. He distrusts those who would use words as weapons - wizards, sorcerers, politicians, academics etc. Civilization is built on words and as such he struggles - since leaving the Circus - to exist amongst civilized people - too many words oft times make things too complicated. Complicated frustrates him and too much frustration can make him blow his top. Those who know him well know when to stop talking and give him some space. Backstory: A piece of wayward magic from an aging shaman at his name-giving ceremony left Granite's skin resembling the piece of rock from which he got his name. His green-hued skin shimmers with the flecks of mica and feldspar embedded within it. The accident, while totally the doing of the aging shaman, was seen as less than auspicious for the family involved. While the baby remained, the family was deemed 'tainted'. Granite’s mother took it upon herself to secretly sell the infant to a caravan of slavers, later telling the clan he was taken in the night by the gods who'd cursed him. The slavers subsequently sold the child to Valdheim’s traveling gladiatorial circus. Twenty or so years later, Granite had grown into a formidable warrior, fighting and remaining undefeated in over seven hundred contests. During this time, he began the habit of collecting the small stones, which he wears in a leather pouch around his neck. Whenever a worthy opponent died by his hand or a fellow warrior died at his side, he would choose a stone from where they fell and then add it to his pouch of souls, lest he forget those worthy of the fight. Finally, one day, Valdheim came to him and, as was tradition after so many successful fights, gave Granite his freedom. Given the gift of a sword and a purse full of coin, he was left at a crossroads where he watched the circus caravan, his life for over twenty years, move away into the sunset. Free for the first time, he struggled with the social nuances of the civilized world and stumbled from one place to another, often using his strength and fighting prowess to gain employment—as a protector, then as a mercenary, as a thief, and as an assassin. He finally fell in with a pirate crew operating on the Sea of Swords under the command of the infamous female pirate Reda Stormrage. An outcast half-orc herself, Reda and Granite enjoyed a bountiful and bloody relationship that lasted several years until, betrayed by a member of her crew in a raid on the Temple of Selûne, Reda died at Granite's side while fighting to escape. Granite took the bloodstone she wore around her neck and added it to his pouch of souls. Drifting away from piracy and back into the lands of civilized men, he chose not to return to the employ of others and instead subsisted off the land, taking what he needed when he needed. During this period, he was tracked and accosted by a wizard. The wizard used his magic to incapacitate Granite and stole from his soul pouch Reda's bloodstone. Why Granite did not know. The only thing of importance to him was that someone had defiled the memory of one of his own by stealing their essence from him. He vowed then to find this wizard, to kill him, and to get back what was taken. After tracking the wizard across half the world, he finally learned he had crossed into the demiplane of G'henna. Granite resolved to find a way into this plane, even if it meant dealing with other magic users to help him cross. RP Sample   “I don’t like it, Fitch. It’s not natural I say!” The taller of the two men fidgeted nervously with a small dagger twirling it between his fingers and passing it from hand to hand. His eyes darted erratically around the edges of the clearing. “Shut your blathering trap will ya and help wiv this lock” A second man, stockier of build than the first, looked up from where he crouched by an iron bound wooden travel chest. The light from the flickering fire illuminated his grizzled countenance. A ragged scar ran from his left cheek , across a twisted broken nose and ended at a glass eye. The milky orb glistened in the dewy night. He blinked. The first man pointed a wavering hand around the clearing “but what if she’s ‘ere somewhere... out there somewhere... watching us!!!” His voice trailed off into a whisper. “Shut it you nonce! “ The stocky man countered sharply but he too couldn’t help a quick glance beyond the firelight. He shook his head in annoyance. “Ere pass me that knife” He took the knife from the tall man and slipped it into the lock. He jiggled it, twisted it, jiggled it some more. “You saw what she did to them others. What if she does that to us.” The tall man ran his finger through his hair brushing the lank greasy strands back over his ears. “Listen!” The big man snapped “ The sooner we get this chest open the sooner were outta ere!” He continued to fiddle with the lock “Wassat!” “What!” “I thought I eard somthink!” “SHAdddup you idiot...” *CLICK* The lock snicked open “Ahh there you go..nice an easy! Now then let’s see what those unfortunate saps wus carryin” He stood an slipped his gnarled fingers in under the lid. “Let me see” Fear momentarily surpassed by greed the thin man pushed up close. “Stand back!” Snapped the big man and pushed him hard in the chest , knocking him backwards and sending him sprawling on the ground. “ You’ll get a look when I’ve finished lookin” he growled. The thin man pushed himself up on to his elbows and in an injured voice mewled “but we’re in this together right” He clambered back to his feet. The big man stamped a booted foot on the lid of the chest and wagged the dagger at the other man “Yeah that’s right but I’m in charge here so I get’s first dibs” He flipped the dagger over into a throwing position and weighed the blade in his hand. “Unless you got a problem wiv that?” A broken toothed grin split his face and he laughed a rasping coughing laugh as the other man silently brushed himself down. “Didn’t think so. Ere! elp me wiv this lid!”   The building lurched violently beneath the bards feet. A cry went up from the little rat man who rocked unsteadily at the top of the stair. "Have no fear little one!" The bard called as the building shuddered and groaned. "This reminds me of the time I fought in the kings navy!" furniture crashed over, a lamp fell, rocked and tumbled to the floor with a crash. "...we were out gunned and out manned. The fleet ablaze..hmmm...mmm!" the floor creaked and the window glass rattled. "..and there he stood....like you are standing now...." He pushed himself up the wall a little and with a hand placed over his heart the other held aloft he began... "The boy stood on the burning deck Whence all but he had fled; The flame that lit the battle's wreck Shone round him o'er the dead. Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm; A creature of heroic blood, A proud, though childlike form. "   With a nod, IronLung took the caltrops from the little man and hooked them onto his belt, next to the fire flasks and between the daggers, to the left of his money pouch and above the smoke sticks, not near the water skin but opposite the tangle foot bags. A well ordered belt inventory was key to efficiency in battle. With his kit now in order he reached up to one of the guttering torches set in it's iron sconce and wiped his hand against the soot blackened stone before drawing his fingers diagonally across his face leaving four black smudged lines from brow to chin. The Half Orc looked at him quizzically. IronLung wavered his fingers before his face. "Like a shadow brother..." and when the Cleric didn't respond " ...of death!" and as if it was necessary to qualify it further "Like a shadow of death from the shadows or like one of the shadows that brings death out of the darkness...no... like a dark dread shadow of death dealing darkness!" That hit the mark He grinned and brandished his axe Final questions 1) Tell me what your characters greatest achievement is. Remaining undefeated in over seven hundred gladiatorial contests and winning thereby his freedom. 2) Tell me what your character’s greatest fear is. Freedom - The circus did all the thinking for him. In the world of the free he is not equipped with the tools he needs to integrate. 3) Tell me something in your characters past that they are particularly proud of. His time with Reda the pirate queen. Their passion was as fiery as the many successful raids they made together. 4) Tell me something in your characters past that they are ashamed of. Losing Reda's bloodstone from his soul pouch at the hands of a wizard.