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  #91  
Old 09-22-2018, 02:17 PM
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Originally Posted by dalarangreen View Post
You have great hooks, wodine. Posting interest!
What can I say I'm a hooker.
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  #92  
Old 09-22-2018, 03:36 PM
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Originally Posted by wodine View Post
Alternate classes are ninja, samurai... And there's one other I don't recall at this time.
Antipaladin?
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Last edited by MoonZar; 09-22-2018 at 03:36 PM.
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  #93  
Old 09-22-2018, 04:31 PM
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Antipaladin?
That's it!

+1 Point for MoonZar
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  #94  
Old 09-22-2018, 05:14 PM
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Well, finally had time to make a character! So got it done for you to read when the time comes.
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Leaning against the wall, watching the others rush by him, he grins. "Go ahead, go get that treasure that's laying there. Be more for me after you die."
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Old 09-22-2018, 05:16 PM
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"There can be no joy without battle."



Name:Theomar "Theo" Lassic
Race: Human
Age: 31
Sex: Male
Origin: Märklend
Class: Fighter
Intended role: Charismatic Bruiser


Physical description:

Theo uses an assortment of battle-worn armors to augment his unassuming hight and battle-scarred body. Full suits of spiked plate drive fear into his enemies just as an oft-repaired breastplate hides his aging physique in a lord's court. His excellent hygiene offers the only clue to his noble upbringing. He wakes early to tend to his beard and shoulder length hair and is often seen on the campaign trail tending to his war gear.

His enemies never agree on whether his massive sword or his piercing gaze is more of a threat. One with the power to cleave their flesh and the other with the intensity to cleave their soul. His friends and allies comment on his easy smile and easy-going demeanor. Still, others whisper about the multitude of holy symbols swinging from his neck and what life he must lead to need so much of the Gods' favor.

A collection of knickknacks and curios, both magical and mundane, swing from his packs and belts. He has a tale for each and is glad to share them for a drink or three.

Personality:
"Fitting in is a short-term strategy, standing out pays off in the long run."


Some men let the horrors of war wear down their souls, but he embraces the camaraderie of men at arms, finding the best way to honor the fallen is to celebrate the living and live for the moment. Fight hard, live hard, and die hard, that was the way of The Mailed Fists mercenary company. Oaths to Cyncevah came quickly to each of his men's lips with each night's celebrations.

Theo has never been a subtle man. The machinations of Märklend's court disappointed and confused him. Many of the world's problems would be solved if only people would be more direct. Theo continually caused his father trouble. Märklend was not the place for mouthy mid-level knights. "Keep your armor polished, your swordarm strong, and you're mouth shut, and you'll never go hungry Theo." His father would lecture him after his latest indiscretion. He'd rather die than live such a controlled life. All of life's troubles melted away when you were fighting next to free men against a worthy opponent, yet his father had other ideas.

A man of action, Theo often hones in on what he wants, makes a plan, and trusts in The True Gods to bless his endeavors. Whether on the battlefield, the court, or his personal life, he is never afraid to use the bold and direct approach to what he wants.

Stemming from his dislike of politics, Theo is a man of his word. He is slow to make promises, but once struck his word is his bond. His reputation keeps the work flowing and his men fed. His well-worn symbol of Kayl is a relief to any potential employer. He is honest of deed and takes excellent care of those who have sworn themselves to him, and those close to him, gladly showing the scars gained in defense of others.


Background:
You cannot be everything to everyone. If you decide to go north, you cannot go south at the same time.

Theomar born to Steffen and Anja Lassic was destined to live a life of moderate prosperity. His father, a midling knight of some skill, had married well and served a noble family with distinction. His father often lectured him on his duties to the Lassic family. Stay in line, hone the craft, and serve with honor and he too could be favorably wed. His children would live a slightly better life than he, until one day, a Lassic would have knights of their own.

Theo felt his father's dream like a yoke around his neck and did all that he could to buck his father's control. Steffen had broken a colt before, and his son would be no different. Beaten and bruised, the boy would often retreat to the only place on the noble's estate he felt at peace, a small temple to The Many Gods. He would pray to each of them, in turn, to deliver him from his situation. Surely one would take action on his behalf?

As the years passed, his father was unable to break his free-spirited ways, and the other knights of the house started to look down on the Lassic's for fear their squires would catch Theo's terrible affliction. Forced between his holdings and his son, Lassic revoked Leo's name and cast him out of their home. A few months with a hungry belly on the road and his son would come crawling back, the knight laughed to himself. Theo never saw his parents again.

Wandering the roads of the Sudetenland mid-Felixial was to have been his doom, but was instead his salvation. Whipping winds burned his exposed flesh like the heat of a forge and the grumbles in his stomach could be heard from leagues away. The boy collapsed on the roadside as a column of horse rounded the nearby crossroads.

He awoke in a tent surrounded by strange men, each with a black tabard adorned with a yellow fist. A stern man looked down at him and gestured to Theo's sword leaning against the wall. Do you know how to use that thing lad?" He only had the energy to nod before passing out again. He awoke in a tent wearing an unadorned black tabard, a pair of eyes inches from his own. "Hi fresh meat, I'm Flint, nice to meet you."

He had finally found a real family. The Mailed Fists welcomed him with open arms. Laughing at his stuffy traditional techniques, their masters at arms taught him how men fought. Strength, determination, and vigor were the order of the day. A steady diet of fighting and camaraderie all but removed his memories of Märklend. Time passed, and he and Flint rose through the ranks at a staggering pace.

He fought often and hard. Coin moved the firsts all through the empire. Caravan duty, monster hunting, barbarian counter-raids, if the coin was genuine, The Fists were yours. Their leader fell in a border skirmish. The captains voted for Theo to lead the band. Leading men into battle as his father had always wanted. What would he think of his son now?

He lead them with the same determination and faith that had gotten him that far. His faith found them taking more and more jobs against the Eastern Monotheists. Say what you will about the war's effect on the small folk, but the War of Monotheist Aggression was an incredible blessing for the Fists' ledgers. He would show them the might of The Many Gods one engagement at a time.


Roleplay sample:

"This is a great honor to serve your Emperor and his Will." A humorless laugh passed his lips as he read the message for the fifth time. "This is the reward of a job well done these days eh Flint?" The lythe archer shrugged his shoulders, glad it wasn't him on the other side of the table. Theo wanted to cast the letter into the fire. He had no name, land, or holdings worth forfeiting, but his men would suffer for that indulgence. What kinds of jobs would they get with their leader on the run from The Empire's justice? He sighed the more he thought about it. They'd be hardly better than bandits at that point.

"BAH, who do they think they are doing this to you? Don't they know who we are? We're The Mailed Fists! Hey, at least you'll get to fight right? You pressgang a boat full of civies, but you conscript a fighting force." Flint mused as he waited for his dinner.

"Pretty sure he thinks he's Emperor Flint and just what I've always wanted, to fight for someone I've never met, AND not get paid to do it! You notice the apparent lack of compensation in this letter? Aren't colonists supposed to get a homestead? Where are my forty acres and mule?" A dry smile snuck onto his face as he continued. "Ha Flint, could you imagine me as a farmer?"

Flint chuckled with his friend. "With a whole horde of little Theos and Theo-ettes running around, maybe as you churn butter and whittle a pipe? That's what farmers do right?" The men laughed at the thought of such a life as the archer slapped the table. "Good thing you won't have to worry about that Theo. This Captain Ferdinand Haley Ingersoll sounds like a real prick. He'll probably get you killed within five minutes of landfall anyway. That is if he doesn't crash the whole thing before you get there. Too busy powdering his wig and waxing his mustache to read the tides."

Theo's smile faded as he stowed the letter next to the sack of coin that had come with it. At least that bastard of a noble hadn't left him empty-handed. He looked around the tavern and rubbed his freshly bandaged arm. The arm hurt, but nowhere near the loss he felt with so many of his men fresh in the ground. "Take the job, it'll be easy coin that noble had said, now he's covering his massive ass from the blowback. With the Warband in disarray, and me half-way across the world, no one can pin this raid on old what's his name." He drained his drink and slammed it on the counter, mug shattering into a dozen pieces, cheap beer leaked out onto the table.

The first genuine smile of the night started in his eyes and moved to his lips. "Ha, at least we got that Mono bastard." Theo rubbed a defaced orb that hung from his belt. I bet he wished he'd had more Gods when we charged his caravan. That fancy hat of his sure did look nice on a pike, didn't it? His mood soured just as quickly as it had brightened. "I wonder if that bastard knew he hired us to take out the Bishop and his acolytes?"

The smell of roasted onions and root vegetables and the sizzling of sausage wafted from the kitchen. "Bah, this is a farewell party, and you're letting me waste it moping." The archer shrugged once more. Theo weighed the coin pouch once more before tearing it from his belt and tossing it on the bar. "DRINKS ARE ON ME!" He ate and drank to excess, trying his best to forget about the long lonely journey to Meerberg ahead of him.


Passengers:
  • Jaman the Fool:A Part elf with unnatural powers? Theo was not a fan and was always watching the man for signs of trouble in the first weeks. As time wore on, he grew to appreciate the positive effect the man had on morale and him and Bianca would catch his shows when able.
  • Roq: Theo respected his decorated history and martial prowess, but could never mesh with the man. His refusal to use "real" weapons and his regimented lifestyle grated against the mercenary.
  • Merrick Blackwood: Theo had seen this story a hundred times. War shaves away the souls of men until they are nothing but lifeless husks. Theo would give him his drink rations when the man seemed to need them and always offered to hear the man's tale of whoa. He only hoped someone would do the same for him someday
  • Bryn:Theo had a grudging respect for Dwarves. They gave as good as they got both on the battlefield and in their cups. Late night's staring at the sea telling tales had told the man the two were very similar, both gave up what was expected for what was in their hearts. A Tough call that few others have the fortitude to make.
  • Theodour Stempson:Theo only knows of the man due to frequent mistakes when being summoning. It was amusing to have two Theos aboard. The merc always wondered if he knew how to use that ax on his back. Not likely with that physique.
  • Eira Nightingale:While others mistrusted her, Theo would often try to engage her in religious debate. He'd never met a member of the Orthodoxy in all his travels. They were not burnt at the stake for their beliefs, so The Elements must be connected to The Many, and he would find out how before the journey's end!
  • Jurgen Bauer:Theo avoided the man like a plague. His quick smile, shining armor, and flowing locks reminded him of his failures to his family. His father would have killed to have a son like Jurgen.
  • Winrich Eichenhardt:Theo first thought him a child aboard the lead vessel. Upon his oakhound's growl, he knew his mistake. He's spent the rest of the journey trying to make the insult up to halfling with mixed success.
  • Cina O'Shami: Theo's heard she was some kind of elemental demon. He'd seen plenty of halfers in his day, but would hate to ruin the poor girl's reputation. What she did was unnatural, but he was damn glad she was on his side should a fight ever break out.
  • Corrivander Bookbinder:Another halfer, but oh that silver tongue. If the Fist's chronicler had been a tenth as good he would likely not be in the predicament he is now. It's a shame the poor bastard couldn't hold his lunch.
  • Merrick Blackwood:Soldier through and through. If the situation were different he'd have tried to sign him to the fists. Bianca and Theo often ponder the size and composition of the stick up his rear.


Flint: Theo's best friend
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Flint only needed one name, or at least that's what he told the ladies when they asked his surname. Flint and Theo were fast friends since the day they were bunked together in camp. Their youthly shinanigans were almost as legendary as their later exploits. His keen eye and cat-like reflexes marked him for a scout, and he hated to disappoint.

Where Theo set his goals and charged headfirst toward them, Flint went with the flow, content with what life sent his way. They each kept the other balanced, and the two would often be up late in the night strategizing for the next battle.

The youngest scoutmaster in The Mailed Fist's history, he now runs the band in Theo's absence, the other captains refusing to appoint a new leader hoping their previous will find his way back to them.

Bianca Seck, Boatswain of the Blue Lily
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Bianca almost worships Captain Ingersoll. Herself also having climbed from conscript to officer. She worked her hardest to keep the crew content and organized so that the Captain could stay focused on the big picture. His dream was at hand, and if he could get his, why couldn't she get hers?

Bianca first met Theo in a fist fight. She'd been trying to break up a bunch of drunken gamblers, and it came to blows. Theo leaned against the wall and watched her mop the floor with the drunken idiots

"Thanks for the hand there pal." She said dragging the unconscious men out of the hall. Theo grabbed another and followed her to the brig. "Looked like you had it under control. By the way, you drop your guard when you go for the left jab." She haymakered Theo to the jaw. "Looks fine to me."

The two have been fast friends ever since sparing by day, thumping drunken idiots by night. Theo almost regretted their trip had to end.

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Last edited by Imveros; 10-04-2018 at 09:36 PM. Reason: applying dalarangreen's sugestions
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  #96  
Old 09-22-2018, 06:56 PM
SSlotts SSlotts is offline
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Posting Interest as I get back into DnD

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Name: Grathfire Honigwein
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Race: Dwarf
Origin: Kirkmont
Class: Unchained Monk (or Drunken Master Monk)
Intended role: Damage / Tank

Physical description: Grathfire is a portly, slightly taller Dwarf; he stands at 4' 3" and weighs in at a hefty 230 pounds. He works hard to look like he fits into the human society around him wearing black boots, khaki pants, and array of colorful button down shirt which partially covers with a vest where he carries a shiny, but broken, silver pocket watch. While he tries to blend, he can't fully give up on his dwarven heritage and as such has a large orange beard with two braids. He almost always has a smile on his face and a small keg of some alcohol in his hand.

Personality: If a single trait could sum up the Grathfire, it’s that he lives in the moment. He embraces life with gusto. Grathfire does everything with vigor, focus, and intensity. Every meal is an event. Every moment with the family is cherished. Every project or work of art demands their full attention. Every nap is treated as if it will be the last! Grathfire works hard, plays hard, fights like animals, loves with all his soul, tell impossibly tall tales, drink like he means it, and sleeps like the dead.

On the whole, Grathfire is slow to anger and prefer measured solutions to problems. But underneath all of that practiced civility, there is a bear to contend with. When Grathfire focuses on combat, each blow rings with the weight of his entire body. Living “in the moment” also means getting lost in the fury of combat; Grathfire in the midst of battle has fists like wrecking balls and a roar that can be heard from horizon to horizon.

However, it takes a great deal to get Grathfire wound up. During his stay at the monastery he learned that negative emotions such as fear, anger, or despair can take on a “physical” form and stir up trouble. For this reason, Grathfire emphasizes and cultivates a life of inner harmony and focus. Conflicts, no matter how bitter, are quickly forgotten over cold drinks once the matter is resolved. Grathfire’s sense of inner peace and love of life is infectious. Spend any significant time with him and you, too, can’t help but get lost in the moment.

Honorable and filled with a love of good company, good food -- and every now and then, a good friendly brawl -- While most dwarves are content to live in seclusion, Grathfire was born with a thirst for adventure that rivals his thirst for a strong drink, and he struck out to explore beyond.

Background: Grathfire was born and raised alongside his brother, Bardin, to a travelling craftsman and merchant. He was brought up learning how to fight and protect himself and the carts during travels. During this, he developed his superior fighting skills and the desire to explore and discover new lands (and new ingredients for his legendary brews) like the traveling adventures who left their homes for thousands of years past. Grathfire often visited the a nearby monastery to get inspiration. The brothers would also be told about how their ancestors left for Kirkmont.

During his days training as a fighter, Grathfire was close friends with Theradin Goreksson. The two both knew that someday they would challenge each other to decide who would be the master of the martial arts school. However, over time Grathfire grew a sense of wanderlust and would often laze about daydreaming. Theradin attempted to tell him that all they would need was at their home. They had an argument, and on the day of their challenge Grathfire did not appear - he had left the Trebury, leaving behind his friends and family. Bardin felt as if he'd been abandoned, as leaving caused Grathfire to miss his brother's wedding, as well as other important events.

During his travels, Grathfire found his way to Drison and a human brewer and monk, Robert Goodwin, challenging the him to a drinking contest to decide who was the better brewer. In the end, when the two were nearly passed out, Grathfire declared Robert to be superior. However, Robert liked Grathfire's beer more. After a brief and lighthearted argument, the two decided to hold a contest in Dun Morogh for all dwarves to taste their drinks and decide. In the end, Grathfire and Robert were neck and neck. Robert's brew was declared the victor by a single vote.

He trained with the greatest monks of the Order, eventually earning, through diligent drunkenness, the right to challenge for a position as a Brewmaster, that title most honored among the contemplative brewing sect. As much a drinking competition as combat, Grathfire for nine days drank and fought the elder master. For nine nights they stumbled and whirled, chugged and struck, until at last the elder warrior collapsed into a drunken stupor, and a new Brewmaster was named. Now the new, young Brewmaster calls upon the strength of his Dwarven forebears to strengthen him. When using his ki, it is to his spirit ancestors that he turns. Like all Brewmasters before him, he was sent out from his people with a single mission. He wanders the land, striving toward enlightenment through drink, searching for the answer to the ancient spiritual schism. Hoping to think the single thought that will unite the spirit and physical planes again.

Roleplay sample: He stares deep into his cup for the first time. Conscripted? How could this happen? Who has the ear of the throne that would want to change my life? Thoughts and questions swirled in his head and he couldn’t help but ask out loud ”Why me?” He had just finished his latest brew and quite a dangerous one at that. While he hadn’t completed his goal, he was preparing to return and share his findings for the first time in almost 3 years and now? Nothing. I have nothing. Nothing to lose or to give. Would they dare go after Bardin and his family?

No there must be a reason. He knows Oramak and his ancestors will never forsake him and prevent him from achieving his goal. There must be a reason; he just needs to think. Think, think, think Without even realising it, he finished his drink and went to get another. ”Another please. And have you heard anything about the empire needing soldiers or anything about a new world?” The bartender shrugged, “Can’t say I have. Who’d you anger?” "Don’t know. Thanks for the drink."

Saying it out loud made him think. The New World, new ingredients, and new experiences maybe this isn’t a curse but a blessing allowing him to find what others have been unable to within the empire. This could be the break he needs. As Grathfire thought more on this possibility, the more and more excited he became. This was not a time for despair but a time for new challenges and celebration.

He heads back to the room he’s renting. There he grabs two of the three barrels he was brewing his new ale in and brings them downstairs. One for the patrons to drink and one for the innkeeper as he is about to hurt business. "Drink with me! Enjoy yourselves! The drinks are on me tonight!" He hands the bartender gold and the two barrels for the night.

NPCs: Bardin, his brother, is a couple inches shorter and much lighter than Grathfire. He has long red hair and a shorter more kept beard. He continues to work with their father as a merchant and bodyguard. He lives with his wife and two children, a son and a daughter. While his son, Rurnag, is following in his father’s footsteps, his daughter, Frida, has the same wanderlust as Grathfire.

Robert Goodwin is a fellow monk of the Order. He is a 5’11” human with tanned skin and blond hair. He is multiple years Grathfire’s senior and is in line to take over the position of Elder Brewmaster. He got his start as a soldier and eventually and officer where he distinguished himself on the battlefield as an excellent fighter. Eventually he was injured and suffered from the horrors of war. After returning home, he drunk himself into a stupor and into homelessness. While begging and spending all of the money he earned on cheap food and ale, he was saved by the a kind monk of the Order.

 



Last edited by SSlotts; 10-04-2018 at 02:38 AM.
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  #97  
Old 09-22-2018, 07:20 PM
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Quote:
Originally Posted by ShadowcatX View Post
With early entry tricks (like wizard 2, cleric 1 entry with the equipment trick feat)
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  #98  
Old 09-22-2018, 08:35 PM
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Not a lot of wiggle room between "haven't seen one in that didn't suck in a quarter of a century" and "cheese."
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Old 09-22-2018, 08:57 PM
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Not a lot of wiggle room between "haven't seen one in that didn't suck in a quarter of a century" and "cheese."
Well, get me a job at Paizo and I'll fix it.

Or just play a class that sucks. There's no shame in that.
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Last edited by wodine; 09-22-2018 at 08:58 PM.
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  #100  
Old 09-22-2018, 09:22 PM
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Well, get me a job at Paizo and I'll fix it.

Or just play a class that sucks. There's no shame in that.
I have an NPC class IRL, I don't need a role-playing game for that.
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  #101  
Old 09-22-2018, 10:20 PM
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Or just play a class that sucks. There's no shame in that.
Hey, picking a sucky class is my thing... I don’t need any competition.
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  #102  
Old 09-22-2018, 10:39 PM
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I have an NPC class IRL, I don't need a role-playing game for that.
I rolled an Unchained Barbarian (Elemental Kin) IRL. It has surprisingly done very little for my career.
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  #103  
Old 09-22-2018, 10:42 PM
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I rolled an Unchained Barbarian (Elemental Kin) IRL. It has surprisingly done very little for my career.
I totally missed the unchained book. Maybe I rolled an unchained class and I just don't know what my class features are!
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  #104  
Old 09-23-2018, 01:11 PM
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Things are shaping up very nicely.

I'm going to set the deadline as Thursday October 4.

And we'll be ready to go that Monday
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  #105  
Old 09-23-2018, 01:35 PM
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Is there a map of the world,or at least the known parts of it?
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