Cool - I just need one call from you then so I can round it off. Which is your preference for the character....
Option A: Familiars, animals, mage hand, players etc can happily carry the sentient item about. This is potentially a bit broken (familiar can carry you anywhere, so you're kinda like a druid), but also gives interesting limitations (without a body, magic items might not work, can't move, can't disguise as a "normal person"). I mean I'll try not to break the game, but there might be unforeseen consequences
......or.......
Option B: A bit of hand-wavium of the mechanics, and combine the item with a magic body/thrall now controlled by said item. The body is the character physically, the item the character mentally - therefore the concept of the Sentient item is more flavour than mechanical
(NB: think I'm going to go Warlock so there's lots of ways to utilise option A if you want with the various pact and patron choices)
Obviously I'd like to get the concept to fit with the game, rather than make assumptions on a mechanic/style you're not happy with.....
My preference is naturally Option A as it's cooler....hehe....but I'd be happy with Option B as the game sounds like it'll be a blast and I'd really like a shot at getting involved....
Name: Garlen Riverback
Race: Dragonborn(Blue)
Class: Cleric(Tempest)
Background: Acolyte
Trait1 : I am tolerant of other faiths and respect the worship of gods
Trait 2: Nothing can shake my optimistic attitude
Ideal: I trust my deity will guide my actions. I have faith that if I work hard, things will go well
Bond: I owe my life to the priest who took me in when my parents died
Flaw 1: I put too much trust in those who hold power in my temples hierarchy
Flaw 2: I enjoy drinking a little too much
Alignement:LG
Hook: Riverguard keep
Faction:None(but interested in joining if the right one comes by)
Background Story: As a baby my parents left me in the doorstep of a temple to Bahamut, the priests seeing this as a sign from Bahamut took me in and raised me to be a cleric of their order.
Description: Garlen is a 6'3" Blue Dragonborn with a red Mohawk on the top of his head his teeth are pearly white and the longest are about 4" long. His eyes are a beautiful sky blue.
Reason for adventuring: My priest wants me to spread the word of Bahamut through the land
Role play example: "Well hello, friend" Garlen calls out to the wounded wood elf. He then says a little prayer to his Bahamut "Oh Great Platinum Dragon, please heal this creatures body so that his soul can see your light," and casts a healing spell(healing word.) "Now that should make you feel a lot better" he then parts ways with the wood elf, but not before telling him of the wonders of Bahamut.
Bit about myself: I've been mostly DMing 5E for a year and a half now and don't get much time to play as a PC so I figured this would be the best place! Very new to pbp but very excited to try it out.
Last edited by iFIGHTdragons; Jan 30th, 2016 at 03:50 PM.
Reason: Misspelled word, added hook, and faction
I also think Option A is cooler, however Oprion B is much easier to work with as a DM, so my preference would be there.
The problem is that option A would be really, really dependent on the other players to start with, meaning are they even willing to carry the item around and such, cause the Chain-Warlock only gets his familiar at level 3 if I'm not mistaken.
But by all means, do still apply!
@fight dragons and Inspire: putting your apps in the table later
No problem - To be honest that's how I conceived the character in the first place. The concept sort of grew from there into familiars and mage hand and god knows what else.....reigning it is probably the sensible thing.....
I've just written the backstory and left it open, so I'll fold in the 'thrall' concept into the RP tonight and get it posted......ooooo....i just thought of the coolest application of mage hand!!!!!!!
Name: Galbrett
Race: Tiefling
Class: Warlock
Background: Sage
Alignment: Neutral
Trait 1: I'm used to helping out those who arn't as smart as I am, and patiently explain everything and anything to others.
Trait 2: There's nothing I like more than a good mystery
Ideal: Knowledge - The path to power and self-improvement is through knowledge.
Bond: I have an ancient text that holds terrible secrets that must not fall into the wrong hands
Flaw:I am easily distracted by the promise of information
Appearence: A single large crystal coloured a pale red, about the size of small boy's palm. Faintly rectangular in shape and rather flat, it has a an almost dazzling number of neat, triangular facets. And upon closer inspection there appear to be an innumerable amount more deeper within it. It's currently sewn into the back of a heavy leather glove with hardened fingers, and worn by a your looking tiefling with a slight build and dead, red eyes.
Galbrett was a tiefling. Technically. His creator – his father he supposed - used both human and infernal blood in whatever warped and twisted ritual created him – so he supposed he was more Tiefling than any other race. Not that it mattered, he’d never had a body. Let alone one with horns and skin blushed with demonic heritage. The multifaceted gem he resided in was reddish, however. Maybe that counted.
Birth was an accurate description for his creation. Falantor required a librarian and researcher for his continued studies into infernal reanimation and possession, and decided both living and enthralled servants were inadequate. The latter lacked the wits and insight of free thought; the former had morals, free-thought, and other inconvenient traits. So Falantor in his brilliance birthed a mind and locked it away, and nurtured it from a mewling, chaotic cluster of thoughts into a true individual mind. Galbrett.
He didn’t really think of himself as a prisoner. He spent most of his time in Falantor’s company, observing and theorising, general content with his perch on a tall stand at the centre of the laboratory. He didn’t really understand much of Falantor’s experiments – he wasn’t afterall a genius like his master – but he learned enough of the arcane, the infernal, and extraplanar energies to prove useful beyond recording and regurgitating information at Falantor’s command. A crystal’s internal structure was complex and clean, a perfect place to store facts and data. And in truth, Galbrett probably would never have left….
But as is the way of things, adventures broke his tiny word apart. Falantor hadn’t been entirely cooperative with those he wished to experiment upon, and the local villages finally scraped enough gold together to pay a passing party to exact vengeance. For all his genius, Falantor lacked real power. His last act was to cleanse Galbrett of his precious research to stop it falling into others hands – selfish and paranoid to his last breath. Then a man with an axe broke down the door, through Falantor’s defences, and cut off his head. Galbrett could recall the feeling of warmth as his creator’s blood splashed across his surfaces. When they tried to claim him, Galbrett cried out in terror, unleashing some arcane power he knew nothing about. Maybe it was Falantor’s doing. Whatever it was, it was enough that the party fled screaming of evil spirits and curses, and sealed the chambers.
Galbrett was left alone, for the first time. For a long time.
In hindsight, without that imprisonment Galbrett wouldn’t have become who he was now. For a start he identified himself as male – Falantor had stored numerous tomes of history and philosophy within Galbrett’s crystal structure and he learned enough of the differences in the thinking of genders to decide on the masculine appellation. But it was the study into his current situation that created the first major transformation.
It was the ideas of imprisonment, punishment, morality and justice that shaped him. He had been denounced as evil, simply by association with Falantor’s acts. Musings on the differences between good and evil weren’t in short supply in his stores of knowledge, and indeed he came to see why Falantor had been killed, and his own entombment as almost deserved. Where he had been born with intelligence, the contemplation of a single situation had expanded his soul rather than his mind, and for long years he thought, and contemplated, and grew. And truly became alive for the first time….
…which brought its own problems, trapped as he was. Once he’d decided he had paid for his sins, he turned to the issue of escape – a difficult prospect for an inanimate gem even if he had been gifted with Falantor’s twisted brilliance. So he dug into what knowledge he had, crossreferencing that with his own memories of the experiments he’d witnessed and advised upon. It was painstaking work, blundering in the dark (both literally and figuratively) trying to intuit what he had seen and tap into that power. The most success he had was around his own creation, how Falantor had tapped into the life forces of the infernal and the natural, levering them apart to create so that a trickle of life could slip in from the beyond…….and something answered….
Afterwards – however long that was – he could only recall the vaguest of details. Something like a conversation had happened, but at a depth he could barely fathom. It was as though for a moment he had dipped his face into the surface of some vast ocean, and then the ocean had dragged him under, dissolved him, and spread his soul across infinity. Then just nothing until he awoke, which might have been days, years, or millennia…..
…..it mattered not. Inside him resided a power now, the faintest drop from that vastness he had experienced. But it was enough that he understood how the powers he had read about, witnessed Falantor employ, could shape the world. With great effort he reached out and tore open his tomb. The world poured in…..
Galbrett sat in the dark, the pleasant thrum of the inn’s common room burbling up through the floorboards like the contented purring of some giant cat. Remnants of a meal clung stubbornly to the wooden cutlery, thick brown swipes of gravy holding chunks of carrot triumphantly aloft. He waited, fingers of his heavy glove rattling out a glissando on the chair’s scratched arm. He waited, until finally there was the knock at the door he was expecting.
(Come in, Perett). He sent, words floating through the arcane ether to the man outside. He assumed it was Perett – that’s who he’d been told to expect anyway. The door inched open and a man with a perfectly round face eased inside. In the darkness, Galbrett could see Perett’s eyes darting about, pupils dilated to their fullest, unable to focus. He sweated depite the cold, cloth cap worried between his meaty fingers. Galbrett smiled to himself, or would have, had he had a mouth.
“Mr Galbrett?” Perett asked nervously, frozen halfway through the door as though trapped.
(Master Perett!) He enthused. (My apologies. I’m so used to seeing in there dark, I forget you humans struggle with it. Here, I can help with that.) With a flex of his power, the candles in the room burst into flame. Perett quailed, almost shrinking back out into the hallway. Galbrett stared for a moment, then tutted to himself. Perett was who he should be; he was simply scaring the man out of habit when there was no need.
(Please sit down, sit down. Here, let me get you some wine.) With casual skill he reached out with his mage hand, lifted the tankard still glistening with condensation, and filled a small rough mug. Then he floated it over to the table before him. An empty chair sat on the other side. (I do apologise for the theatre, but as you may have heard, it’s the most natural for me. Please do sit.)
Perett stared at the mug in horror for a moment, then visably steeled himself and stepped into the room towards the chair. Galbrett closed the door behindhim, quietly. “They said you were strange, sir, and a mage. But I didn’t expect…” He paused, swallowed. “…expect…”
Galbrett laughed. (Yes, indeed. I’m sure the Harpers take perverse pleasure in not briefing their agents about me properly. Don’t feel awkward Master Perett – you’re neither the first or surely the last. Take your ease.) Finally, Perret sat down and, after a moment’s thought, threw the wine down his throat in a single gulp. Galbrett floated the pitcher over and refilled it.
“Thank you, sir. I’m just…not used to mages in general, and the ones I’ve seen are dusty old men pottering about their labs.”
Galbrett thought about informing him he was a warlock, not a mage, but decided it wouldn’t matter to Perett. He saw magic, and thought Mage. (Then the Harpers have had their fun at your expense. I keep telling them not to, but they don’t listen to me I’m afraid. Still, no harm, no foul). He looked at Perett, and the man stared a good two foot over his position. He sighed.
(If it helps, their games don’t make me an more comfortable either. Otherwise you wouldn’t be looking where you’re looking). Perett’s face creased with a frown and Galbrett sighed again. He knew what the man saw; a youngish tiefling with skin almost pale enough to pass for human, small black horns curved tightly backwards, glossy hair a shade of purple, almost black. But the expression would appear dead with a slack jaw half open and perfect red eyes unfocused. He’d often caught sight in the mirror to find his body drooling slightly, a thin silvery line painted down from black lips – it unnerved him often enough.
“I don’t understand…” Perett ventured. Galbrett concentrated, and retook control of the body. He stood and walked to the bed.
(They’ve really done a number on you haven’t they). He said, laying down and drawing the covers over him. Galbrett relaxed, then slid his mage hand into the glove. Like it was some strange five fingered spider, he walked over to the chair, floated himself up onto in, and clambered ont the arm. For effect, he crossed two of his fingers as though they were legs. He had Perett’s proper attention now. (You see, that body isn’t me. This - ) he tapped one finger on the other, (is me. I am a soul trapped in a gem, sewn into a glove.
(When I found that poor lad some heinous spell had cored out his intelligence, and left he to starve in the ruins of an old temple. Fortunately for me, that hollow where his personality – or soul if you will – used to be allows me to use him for transport and other activities. Fortunately for him, I put food into his body so he stays alive. I hope I can rememdy that someday, and I’ll become a disembodied glove again. But for now our situation is mutually beneficial, even if it is a distraction from face-to-facet conversation). Perett stared at him, utterly rapt. (That was a joke, by the way.)
“Oh. Oh I’m sorry…” Perett looked both bewildered, embarrassed and confused. This hadn’t gone well. Galbrett really needed to get the Harpers to inform their agents better.
(Pay it no mind. Anyway – to business. You have information for me, yes?) Perett took another swig of his wine, then seemed to shake himself out of his fugue. He reached into one pocket and produced a folded letter.
“Yes. Yes. I got the information as they asked. Wrote down everything I could find out about the Circle of the Scarlet Moon right there. It wasn’t easy. Most of the townsfolk only know wild tales and rumours so I had to piece lots of it together best I could.” Galbrett used his mage hand to unfold the paper and lift it up before him. Childish angular script wove drunkenly across the page, spotted with ink as though it had a pox. Perett continued, less nervous now he was talking. “I know the Harpers wanted more, but that would’ve meant heading to their enclave and spying on them – and I’m no woodsman. One lady said her husband had tried to follow them once and one of these druids just appeared out of the trees, turned into a bear and near took off his arm! I wouldn’t have believed it myself ,’cept three other men in the tavern said they’d seen similar things.
(This was in Red Leech, you say). Galbrett asked, reading from the paper.
“Red Larch, sir. My letters ain’t so good.” Now he’d relaxed, his accent had slipped into typical thick common. “The Harpers said they might be operating all over the region, but that village had numerous stories and sightings, all seemingly first hand. Most of the other farmsteads and tows had nothing but ‘my da knew a man who..’ or, ‘this merchant came through talking about…’ This place though – seems like one person in every ten had a story to tell about strange goings on in the woods.”
Galbrett deciphered what he could of the rest, and filled in what he couldn’t. His order was right – something was upsetting the balance.
(This is excellent ,Master Perett). He said. (Anything more and you would have been putting yourself in significant danger. We are most pleased). Perett smiled for a moment, but it soon melted into a concerned frown. He finished his wine and refilled it himself from the pitcher.
“If I can ask – what’s this about?” Galbrett considered the Perett’s pudgy, earnest face, then nodded to himself. Carefully he folded the paper and floated it over to the table beside the bed. There was no harm in telling ,and it might stop the man’s curiosity dead.
(It seems the Circle of the Red Moon have been dabbling in rituals few have heard of amongst the druidic communities affiliated with the Harpers. And none know how to perform them. It has them concerned that by withholding this knowledge, the careful balance we hold and protect may become warped. Either all should know, or none). He hopped onto the seat and began pacing back and forth on his fingers. For a moment he thought he saw Perett trying to peak inside the cuff of his glove.
(It’s more distressing that of all people, these druids ought to know the implications of gathering this sort of knowledge in the hands of so few. Now whether that is due to external influence, some external factor that has caused them to believe these actions are vital, simple stupidity ,or some upsetting corruption has turned them towards a sinister grab for power – either way the Harpers must know. I must know. It is a puzzle without answer, and I abhor them).
“I see.” Perett said, rolling the newly emptied tankard between his palms. Galbrett stopped pacing.
(I don’t think you do. I mean no offence, but when you truly align your mind with our cause, it will become clearer. For now, satisfy yourself that this is both highly dangerous, and no longer your responsibility. You’ve done your duty to the Harpers, and we are grateful. Ow go home to your wife and children and be their father again. Payment will arrive shortly). Perret seemed to understand the unsaid dismissal and stood, putting down the mug. Awkwardly he shook Galbrett’s extended finger, then scuttled out of the room.
With a thought, Galbrett extinguished the candles and settled back down to think. The information was thorough and clear. Red Larch seemed an unlikely site for the Circle to show their hand, but the Harpers had been clear he should follow whatever leads they had. He couldn’t help but worry something else was afoot here, something duplicitous and rank.
In the morning he’d take his body and travel to this village. Then he’d start doing what he did best – gathering knowledge.
Yeah I got a bit carried away.............
Last edited by Hillsy7; Jan 26th, 2016 at 08:22 PM.
Updated the App Table - as always, let me know if I overlooked anything or made a mistake
2 days to go!!!
Are you exited? I'm exited! But I'm not looking forward to choosing (hahaha), with so many really sweet apps I foresee some difficulties to make up my mind
Jan 26th, 2016, 11:06 AM
