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  #31  
Old Jun 18th, 2018, 07:40 AM
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NAME: Rei Shouyu

RACE: Human

AGE: 24

GENDER: Male (Bisexual)

CLASS: Ranger

ALIGNMENT: Neutral

BACKGROUND: Haunted One

DESCRIPTION: Rei is a diamond on a rough. With a height of 6'2 and weight of 180 lbs his good physique can make heads turn. His raven black hair touches the tips of his shoulders that accentuates his sharp nose and chiseled jaw but one peculiar aspect of his face is his green eyes. Emerald eyes that glow only when his apparition, Henry Pendragon, takes control of his body.
With his child-like demeanor and compassion he unknowingly garnered the hearts of women and children in his village amidst the fear of his apparition. He ventured the world with a longbow and a quiver filled with handmade arrows, a long brown tunic to be protected by padded leather armor, green baggy pants and worn out boots that helped him to move around quicker and a long hooded cape made out of leaves that gives him protection and stealth in the forest. His act of bravery also garnered him some stuffs that he use such as an old custom-made suit, a barn owl mask that Henry uses to cover his eyes and a foldable mattress,other things in his possessions are daily necessities and items needed for survival.

PERSONALITY TRAITS: Rei is a compassionate, helpful and adventurous young man and with his charm and wit similar to a kid it's either you like him or not but what sure is that he keeps friends and family close to him. If a dangerous situation arises or it's either kill or be killed you must be wary of the one they call Henry.

IDEAL: My name is Rei, I help and protect those in need. My name is Henry, What once was a killer but now I kill those who desecrate the needy. Together, Not one without the other.

BOND: There is a tamed beast inside of me. He once was a monster but now a part of me. I wish to help him be at peace.

PLAYER GOALS: This is my first game here and I am excited to be a part of this campaign. I always wanted to play alongside others and to be immersed in worlds. I want to learn more about PbP and to enhance my creativity.

CHARACTER GOALS: Rei's family has been cursed by a murderous spirit that possess their bloodline for as long as the sun and moon chases one another. With Henry's consent they now venture to find a way to break the curse.

BIO: Who would have known that a farm boy would be lead into a heroic destiny? It all started by a ravenous killer. He was named Henry Pendragon and his out for blood. A time where famine and war was imminent he rose and took advantage of the poor. He was a good man that love his family, a moon and elf and a daughter but he was called in arms and fought but it all changed when an unkown enemy,so powerful that he was inflicted of a curse of bloodlust. He started to kill either friend or foe and the more craved of death the more of his humanity fades.

Henry have slain hundreds of men that when he realized he was inevitably aging he sought out for a diety. Henry sought out for Mephistopheles.
The moment arrived where he finally seeked the lawful evil diety and demanded immortality. Intrigued by his wish Mephistopheles agreed but wirh a price. Henry will live as a curse that plagues the mind of men he possessed and will kill for his name.

After how many years has passed. Of all the generals, assasins and deprived souls that he possessed he was now bestowed a farm boy to control. A farmboy named Rei Shouyu.

The small boy of only 5 is now a vessel of a murderer but for some reason Henry felt at peace with the child. Rei showed care and compassion to the spirit as he deemed it to be his "guardian angel". The Shouyu family accepted the spirit and the last aliver of humanity inside Henry was saved.

Henry and Rei became an unlikely pair. Henry taught Rei about the woods and how to use the sword and bow while Rei taught Henry everything about cooking and helping people. The two formed a bond as close as a father and son relationship.
Rei wishes to help Henry to break the curse and with Henry's consent they decided to destroy the shackles but his parents refused and asked Rei to give them a reason why he needs to go. Even his older brothers and sisters demans the pair to not leave but everything had it's time.

It was night time when the town was getting raided by bandits and rogues. Every men in the town is now at arms but a place that has not been touched by violence can only do so much with spades and daggers. Seeing the town getting attacked Rei quickly grab hold of his gear and starts to shoot people rather than practice dummies.

One by one the raiders fell to the ground. With Rei's strength and dexterity along with Henry's experience and tactics the evildoers bit the dust. Rei was having mixed emotions as he killed people to save his people. Rei promised himself not to take anyone's life and let Henry do it for him. With glowing emerald eyes Henry ended the battle and with that they were now given the blessing to go and break the curse.

With every battle and every location the pair have reached they are now closer to break the curse.

"Hey Henry!" The boy asked. "Where are now anyway?"
"We are now at the Dales, kid."
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Last edited by Rinkadoki; Jun 30th, 2018 at 03:41 AM.
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  #32  
Old Jun 18th, 2018, 09:15 AM
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Thanks for all the apps, people who've posted them over the past day or so!

I've decided that the deadline will be June 30th, @ 11:59PM EST.
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  #33  
Old Jun 18th, 2018, 11:13 AM
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In another game i ran a witch character who use the ghost of her dead son in her magic, kindve a mix between the grudge and the ring. In that campaign she was evil but I was wondering if it would be ok to update her to a more neutral stance. Basically she used the same rolls a normal witch would but I was got a little descriptive with the powers on a purely aesthetic level.

Last edited by gotha; Jun 18th, 2018 at 11:14 AM.
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  #34  
Old Jun 18th, 2018, 11:41 AM
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Application - WIP
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Name: Noji Koga

Race: Aasimar

Class: Sorcerer
Origin: Draconic Bloodline, Blue Dragon Ancestry

Background: Hailing from Harrowdale, Noji's family owns a large apple orchard on the extreme edge of town. It's been in the family for generations, and they are quite wealthy. They don't get involved in politics really, and are happy just to raise the next generations and so forth on their lands. They generally keep to themselves, and hire other merchants to sell their goods, and laborers to work in the orchards. What is not known, is that many years ago, one of their ancestors made a blood pact with a Blue dragon. This comes out once every generation, by blue scales on many parts of the body of this individual. Noji, is the one for her generation. Some who get this 'gift', have strong ties to magic, and Noji is one of those. So, she was sent at a young age to an older Aunt to study and learn. It was both good and bad as far as her family is concerned. She learned enough to know she wanted to strike out on her own, and that there are certain artifacts in the Realm that she longs for - must have actually. Her childhood has some memories of fun, but mostly it is that of a life of a recluse. She is usually blunt and to the point, and hides her 'body that has scales' around those she doesn't know.

Age: 21

Gender: Female

Alignment: NG

Description: Noji stands 5'8" tall, has lustrious skin randomly splotched with blue dragon scales here and there, mostly on the left side of her body. She has yellow golden hair with blue jewel-toned eyes. She's slim and weighs about 128 lbs.

Personality Traits: I am utterly serene even in the face of disaster. I have been in a life of seclusion searching for spiritual enlightenment.

Ideal: Meddling in the affairs of others only causes trouble, unless it becomes my affair. She cares little for governments, and religious causes, until they may be a stepping stone to get to an artifact she's looking for.

Bond: I’m still seeking the enlightenment I pursued in my seclusion, and it still eludes me. The enlightenment was an artifact, and she's still searching for it; not so much for enlightenment, but for herself to use and broaden her magical powers.

Player Goals: I'd enjoy just RPing my character's strengths and weaknesses. Using her magic, learning what it does and doesn't do, and advancing. I'm more about the RP than the mechanics, and believe that the mechanics are there just to provide randomness of outcomes. What excites me most about Forgotten Realms and the Daleland area, is that I have RP'd extensively in the Moonsea area, Amn and the Swordcoast, and Vilhon Reach (which is right around the corner along the coast from Harrowdale). I know a lot about the area, and just love to be immersed in the lore and lands.

Character Goals: My character is motivated by getting more, and learning more magic. She does enjoy showing off what she's capable of as well, not to boast, but to put down any doubters or naysayers. She is striving to find a certain artifact, and will look everywhere there's said to be a possibility for it to be hidden (would like to work with DM to figure out what this artifact is, and she's been researching on for years.)

Bio: Noji was whisked away from the family's homestead and apple orchards at a young age. On one level it was to keep their secret hidden, and on another it was to allow her to control her use and love of magic. Her earliest memories are of playing in apple trees, swimming in a stream near their house, and having fun with cousins. She saw few others due to her body having blue scales here and there that some take an alarm to. Her old Aunt Kaysar is the one who grilled her in the ways of magic, giving her some freedoms, while not allowing others. This has caused her to not be able to resist flirting with boys/now men, but secretly she's terrified of them, and this is her way of keeping them at bay.
She began to tag along on an adventure with a group out of Harrowdale for mere magic support now and then, and after using a spell offensively with some foes attacking them, she was addicted to the life of adventure and wanderlust.

Character Sheet - Created using standard build from PHB. Will/can modify if different method of ability creation is preferred.
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Last edited by Drachenspirit; Jun 29th, 2018 at 03:07 PM.
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  #35  
Old Jun 18th, 2018, 12:17 PM
ShadyRaven ShadyRaven is offline
Young Adult Dragon
 
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Hi! I'd like to play in a FR sandbox. I'd submit a warlord character and push for a military campaign to unify the Dales. It being 1368 seems good to me - isn't Zhentil Keep supposed to suffer a defeat in that year? I don't remember by whom, but the keep itself was half destroyed by... boulders? Was that giants?
Anyway, I could see the Zhents pull troops back to their HQs, making it easier to retake Teshendale and go from there.

Last edited by ShadyRaven; Jun 18th, 2018 at 12:17 PM.
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  #36  
Old Jun 18th, 2018, 12:33 PM
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Old School - or just old
 
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Added an extra blurb to Zeek's character motivations.
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  #37  
Old Jun 18th, 2018, 12:39 PM
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@Gotha: Still a normal PC statblock, yeah? Sounds alright to me. =)

@Drachenspirit: Aasimar are fine with me!

@ShadyRaven: Canonically, Zhentil Keep survives until 1383 DR. It was destroyed by the Shadovar when it was revealed the Zhents were working with Phaerimm, which I guess are a kind of great-old-one aberration sorta thing?
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  #38  
Old Jun 18th, 2018, 12:52 PM
ShadyRaven ShadyRaven is offline
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From the FR Wiki:

"When Bane fell during the Time of Troubles, Zhentil Keep was claimed by followers of Cyric. He controlled the keep and its citizens until 1368 DR, when he fell and Zhentil Keep was subsequently assaulted by white dragons and frost giants the following year. This siege left a large portion of the city, north of the river Tesh in ruins"

So the Attack I remembered is in 1369. If Cyric has already Lost control of Zhentil Keep, there could be instability. I actually need to look it up cause there might have been a long siege cutting Zhentil Keep off for months. Up to the DM how much he wants to incorporate.
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  #39  
Old Jun 18th, 2018, 01:28 PM
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Horace

Race: Feat human

Class: Paladin (Oath of Redemption) 2, Warlock (The Celestial Pact) 1

Feat: Inspired Leader

Background: Folk Hero

Age: 26

Gender: Male

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral


Description: Horace stands at just over six feet in height and weighs in at just under two-hundred pounds. His shaggy brown hair looks like he just got out of bed no matter how hard he tries to straighten it out but his short beard is always perfectly maintained. Warm green eyes invite anyone to come and speak with the man even if his near-perpetual scowl gives them fair warning that he doesn't want to hear it. On the occasions where he does smile the grin fills his face and his white teeth contrast handsomely against his tanned skin. The young man has always taken great care of his hands due to his father's own fastidious hand care and so many are surprised to find a farmer's son and small-town hero with hands that have no callous growth but his large muscle and confident stride is enough to curb most folks interest in mocking the man on the point.

Horace's deep voice has been likened to thick honey by more than a few people in his home town but the people of the small village also know that at times his voice changes entirely and it is impossible to tell if it is coming from a man or a woman, it is said to be beautiful and disconcerting given the large man it comes form and his usual voice. Much like his normal talking voice he has a distinctive step, when outside of his armor his steps are firm but not particularly loud however that changes rapidly when he starts putting on his various layers of steel and his steps can be heard across a room and the jangle of chain against plate rings through even an open field. As often as he can afford it Horace takes a proper bath with soap and unless he has been stopped from doing so for many days he will smell like pine needles.


Personality Traits: Horace can often be found talking to himself, if you are close enough it becomes clear he is having an argument with someone who isn't there.
For all of his eccentricities Horace still commands every room he walks into, the force of his personality drawing people in like moths to the flame.

Ideal: Everyone can be redeemed, or at least that's what the nagging voice in his head tells him. For his part Horace finds most people to be cruel, violent, or petty with those worth the time of day quickly becoming jaded by a vicious world.

Bond: His families small farm near a border village in Tassledale is the only place Horace has ever given reverence to and he knows that for all his want of travel and something greater than tilling fields for the rest of his days one day he will come home to be burried beneath the oak tree with all of the kin that came before him.

Player Goals: While in most fantasy literature the story of a person coming from a small town to become a great hero borders on the absurd it fits perfectly in the Dalelands where even the most civilized of dales still see a fair amount of excitement. I look forward to having a chance at making that archetype with a few twists of my own, most notably that the hero in question has no desire to be a hero and is perpetually struggling with the idea that he may not even be a good person but is forced to be by the voice in his head and at this point he cannot know what kind of man he would be without it which makes him constantly doubt his own moral compass. That was long winded but yeah...

Character Goals: Horace wants nothing more than to make the voice in his head shut up or go away. Outside of that his goals are focused around bringing a bit of prosperity to his home as years of hardship have left many in his town destitute.


Bio:
The voice of an angelMorning light shone through the young boy's slat window but it found him already awake fighting a vicious headache that seemed convinced to keep him in bed competing against the loud hammering of his father on something outside combined with his mother's repeated shouting for him to get up which won out and finally forced him from bed. When he finally came to the families main room he found a heel of bread filled with a thick grain soup waiting for him. "Your father needs help outside and you have been lazing about all morning, have you gone deaf boy?" "Sorry Ma'. Head hurts." "This is three days in a row, that excuse can only work so long and my sympathy has run out." "As soon as I am done with breakfast I will go help." "Good and don't go complaining to your father about how your head hurts, he is too kind for his own good." The boy just nodded and went about eating the soup before walking outside munching on the bread it was served in. When he made it out of the door he saw his dad hammering away on a fence post that didn't seem willing to go through the dry soil.

"Da' what can I do to help?" "Well Horace if you could make it rain that would be fantastic." A hearty chuckle escaped the older man's throat and he took a moment to wipe off his brow and look at the post with a critical eye. "I got an idea, may be a stupid one but cant be worse than hammering away at this for no reason." With that his father walked into the barn where they kept their various tools and moments later walked out with the largest augur the family had. "About every twenty of your feet I need you to drill down as far as you can till you hit the fence that is already up. Why your mother insists on having a garden by the house instead of just walking out to whats in the fields I will never know." The boy just smiled and did as his father instructed, putting one foot in front of the other for the needed paces before spinning the augur into the ground up to the handle. The sun was high in the sky by the time the young boy finished and his body was pouring sweat but his headache had finally left him and it was clear his father was happy for the help, even if it didn't seem to make the task any easier. "Can I get you to go to town and get my order from the general store? Don't let that greedy little dwarf try and cheat me on the salt either." Despite the harshness of the words the easy smile made it clear his father held no hatred for the man.

The trip to town was only a mile of hard packed dirt and nothing of interest happened along the way. Much to the young boy's anger his headache returned not long after walking into town and by the time he was a few shops away from the general store he had to place a hand on the building just to remain standing. From just down the alleyway the sound of hushed anger reached Horace's ears. "Look you stupid sow that customer gave you your money so you gotta earn it." "Please sir I told you I was only a serving girl." "I know what you said but he gave you good coin and he expects to be served proper..." The man kept speaking in the hushed tone but the words faded from Horace's ears as the tinkling of a million bells filled his mind. Horace you need to intervene. No one else is going to help her but you can. Just speak up for her and the man will leave it be. The voice that rang through his head was entirely foreign to him but his headache was gone and his mind was clear as he walked down the alley. The man drew back a hand but Horace's own shot up to grab it, the young boy's strength from a life on the farm was far greater than his prepubescent age would imply but he knew it was surprise that stopped the man more than any real force from him. "Sir you hired her to do a job and she done it, why would you be mad?" The innkeeper looked down at the boy with a mix of shock and confusion that quickly changed to anger, his face flushing red. "Boy what I do with my employees is none of your business and you best get out of here before I do the same to you!" Horace let go of the man but stood in front of the woman, his young frame coming up to her midriff but his intent was clear. "If you feel you need to you can, just let the nice lady be." Unlike before when it was just a strange voice in his head the voice that came out was clearly not the young boys, it was the voice of an androgynous adult entirely lacking the burgeoning country accent of the boy. The innkeep seemed taken aback and looked into the eyes of the young boy for a few minutes before turning around and walking back around the corner toward his inn, muttering along the way about upstart young children and worthless working girls.

The woman he had tried to protect hugged him tightly for a while before putting a few coppers into his hands. "Take these and buy yourself a sweet, you have earned a lot more but this is what I have." You can't accept that Horace, Getting paid to do the right thing quickly leads to only doing the right thing for the wrong reasons. Once more the strange voice punctured his mind as he gave the coins back, letting the woman know she didn't need to pay him before making his way out of the alley and heading toward his original destination. The boy picked up the supplies his father had ordered and made his way back home, his headache staying blissfully gone as he contemplated just what this voice meant. He didn't tell his parents about the strange occurrence but as the years went on the voice would always seem to return when someone else was in need...


Knight in Tarnished ArmorIt had been a decade since the voice in his head first started chattering away at him and on multiple occasions it had got him into a tough situation but never before had he felt that his life was at risk but there was a first time for everything and on a lazy night in the middle of winter that time came.

The cold air was easily combated by the fire in the hearth and Horace and his mother sat in the common room reading two of the very few books the farming community owned while his father slept in his parents room. Over the crackling of the flame a loud cry could be heard and the two paused to look at one another. Before any words could be said the shouting of their neighbor Wilfred came through their slatted window. "That cry was Willem." When the words left Horace's mouth his mother and the voice in his head spoke simultaneously. "Willem doesn't cry." If you don't act Willem will die. "I know." The words came out flat and even Horace didn't know to which voice he was answering but ultimately it didn't matter, either way the voice in his head wouldn't shut up if he didn't check it out so he put the book to the side and sprinted out the door, his long legs carrying him across acre and a half to their fence. Scaling the fence wasn't difficult but when he got to the top his stomach twisted into a knot and it was all he could do to force himself forward.

Lying on the frozen ground was the shattered and shuttering frame of the oldest of the neighbor children, a young man by the name of Willem who was roughly equal to Horace in age, and standing above him was his father, bloodied club raised high. "Wilfred stop! You are killing him!" The shout had more strength to it than Horace felt but that didn't stop him from running up to the two and putting himself in the way of the next blow. The club hammered into the side of his jaw and he felt a painful jarring of the bone that seemed to pull it out of his mooring but as the pain pushed into his body he let some of the minor magic the voice had instilled in him and green flames sank into the shattered boy's flesh where the cuts on his face began mending and the swelling immediately halved. It wasn't perfect but it was clear he would make it through. Stand up Horace, if you don't stop Wilfred he will kill you both. Don't fight him, just show him you won't be killed like an animal. Once more he wasn't sure if he was acting or if the voice in his head was taking over his body but it didn't matter, he stood and faced the enraged man. "Wilfred you smell like a still. Go inside and go to bed." This time the words were most definitely Horace's own and spoken with more than a small amount of his own anger.

The man before him pulled back the club again and smashed it into Horace's face a second time, now sending a half-dozen teeth free in his mouth while he crumpled to the ground. Horace spit the bloody teeth into his hand and stood, a look of determination in the young man's eyes. The older farmer's anger hit a peak but there was something else to be seen now, a fear that was not there before. "Mind your own business boy, just stay down and let me deal with my son." "I wish I could but if I did this little voice in my head wouldn't shut its abyssal sword sheath." Blood now ran freely from his mouth to the ground in an unbroken stream but he ignored it, ignored his pain, ignored his fear, and grabbed the farmer by the throat and slammed him to the ground, his detached teeth digging into the man's throat. Don't kill him Horace. In the morning he will be a changed man when he sees what he has done. Give him the chance to be better. The voice forced itself into his mind but in response he just squeezed tighter, the red of the older man's face quickly giving way to purple. Stop! The mental scream shot a spear of pain through his mind worse than any he had ever felt and he did as commanded.

Whenever he could finally think again he looked down at the unconscious farmer and his trembling son. Horace walked over to the young man and knelt down, placing a hand onto his chest and letting more green flames heal the boy's broken flesh. By the time he was done Willem looked uninjured and his breath came evenly and quietly. Horace put his teeth into the pouch on his hip, not sure what else to do with them, and picked the other boy up and slung him over his shoulder. He carried the boy to the house and opened the door to a room full of weakly crying children and a woman with one black eye and tears silently streaming from her face. "Did he kill him?" The woman's voice was cracked by what he was certain was a night of sobbing but he just shook his head and laid Willem down on the floor of the home. "Did you kill Wilfred?" Once more Horace shook his head and walked out of the home. He walked over and grabbed the now bloody and raggedly breathing Wilfred and slung him over his shoulder just as he had the younger man, the added weight not proving overly difficult. When he walked through the door with the unconscious farmer the woman was now looking over her child with a look of awe. "Willem was busted up before they went outside. What did you do?" Horace laid the man on the ground beside his father and finally looked up to the mother's pleading eyes. "I don't know. I just put my hand on him and he got better. Gods know why it worked and Gods alone care. I can't tell you not to kill Wilfred but just know I would take it as a kindness if you didn't. If he ever does something like this again I will take care of him myself. Have a good night Jane and try to get the kids to bed." With that the young man walked out one final time and started the short trek home.

When he got to the fence the voice once more entered his head. You did a good thing Horace. Take the teeth out of your pocket and put them back in your mouth, I will give you the strength to fix the damage you suffered in service to a greater purpose. Horace didn't question the voice, he didn't have the energy to, he just shoved teeth into the holes they were removed from and placed a hand on his cheek, a green light shone from his hand and a few probes with his tongue proved his teeth were solidly anchored once more. The light was different than the flames he had become used to but he was too drained to mull it over for long and he slowly climbed up the fence and dropped to the other side. He made his way slowly to his house and walked directly to his room, not even slowing as his mother asked him what was happening. "Nothing important. Off to bed Ma'." When the young man's head hit the straw mattress he was asleep in seconds.


A reluctant bladeThe small village had obtained some worrying reports about a band of orcs raiding some farms a few days ride from them. It wasn't taken as a serious threat until the third rider talking about his home being destroyed and his crops and animals stolen arrived. The village elders sat in deliberation for hours but many in the village were reluctant to wait on them to make a decision when their life and livelihoods were in danger so they sent a messenger down the hard packed dirt road on the way to Horace's family farm. The man was visiting home in one of his few breaks in training to become a proper warrior with a mercenary company in Battledale. His time spent training with Radick's Ravens had given Horace an understanding of basic tactics and combat techniques but even this relatively limited experience put him far above the rest of the village. The messenger told him all that he knew and the young man told him to ride around and get everyone who was old enough to fight to come to the village.

Horace began putting his heavy armor on and his father helped in getting the straps tightened properly. "Well this is going to be more excitement than this village has seen in a generation." His father chuckled, his nerves giving way to jokes as was his nature. For his part Horace laughed lightly to help calm his father and tightened one of his vambraces. "More likely than not they will leave when they see a united front. If they have just been raiding boarder farms they probably don't have a big enough group to fight an arranged force. Also as soon as we are done getting me properly dressed start gathering together animals, we are going to need to take them into town." His father nodded and the two worked in silence, finishing preparing the younger and then getting animals gathered and herded. The dozen pigs the family owned walked ahead of the two men with little complaint. "Son now that your Ma' won't hear us how dangerous is this going to be?" Horace looked down at his hands and noticed a slight shake in them that he quickly stifled. "If we are lucky exactly what I said would happen will happen. Most likely this towns supply of grown men is going to drop substantially. A small group of orcs is still enough to cause damage if they are armed and armored, lets just hope they haven't managed to get their hands on proper full plate or half the town is going to die and that is conservative. Only good thing is Orcs aren't known for their riding skill so we should have a while to get ready. The best riders in the town are going to need to try and act as scouts to give us some heads up. The smiths are going to need to start churning out arrow heads and everyone with a bow needs to get warmed up for whats coming. I am going to teach basic spear formations to everyone else. Don't have the time for anything fancy so basically just gonna be a pointy square. When the Orcs break the spear wall is when its going to get ugly, gonna have to teach rush and gut but most folks won't have the courage to do it and the ones that do are probably going to get themselves hurt or killed when they do it. You need to organize the archers for me Da', you will be tempted to just let them fire away but don't. Keep them measured on your mark. Aim for the biggest ones first, they are orcs so the biggest will probably be the leader and if not it will still be better to not have the big ones up against our lines. If we had more time I would ask the smiths to work on helmets but at the very least we should be able to put some straps on hunks of wood and make some impromptu shields. Metal tips for spears and proper bodkin arrows won't be hard. I am going to try and end this without violence but I doubt I will have such luck." The young man shook his head, clearing his mind of the dark thoughts that began to bubble up. "Whatever you see out there Da' I promise I am no demon or monster in the night."

His father walked along in somber silence for a moment before his characteristic grin split his face. "I know you aren't son, no fears of that. On the plus side if I am lucky some of the neighbors will die and I will be able to buy up their land." The two laughed at the dark humor to help banish the fear and they walked in companionable silence the rest of the trip.

The town square was bustling with almost everyone who lived around the small town and when Horace and his father made it within eye shot the din of noise quickly went silent and Horace walked through town to a deafening silence. The metal of his iron shod boots clattered loudly up the stone steps to the small stone dais the town used for official proclamations. An elder poked his head out of the inn where they were holding council, almost assuredly concerned by the sudden silence but when he saw the young man standing in his resplendent armor a smile split his weathered face and he disappeared for a few moments before all of the elders came out of the inn with faces varying from excitement to barely concealed rage.

"Hello everyone. You all know me and you know I've spent the last three years training with Radick's Ravens so I am going to skip all the bits where I try to convince you I know what I am doing and go straight to the important parts. Every elder, child, and person not capable of fighting is going to have to work together to get the crops harvested and bring the animals into the sell lot in town. Everyone with a bow needs to get it and come back to town for further instructions. Everyone that hasn't yet fallen into a category stick around, we are going to be drilling formations as soon as we can get enough lengths of wood to start so go grab some around six feet in height and come on back. Exceptions are as follows, I need the smiths, Talmar, Uri, Vadek, Obrik, and Hyram to come talk with me for a bit. This would be the part I ask for questions but honestly we don't have the time for them so lets get to work people." With that Horace clapped loudly and walked toward the edge and plopped down as he waited for those called out to come before him. First he looked at the individuals he had called by name. "I need you all to take your horses and be my outriders. Don't go near the orcs, just try to get vision on them and give me whatever detail you can. They should be a few days away so that gives us time to get some proper information on their makeup. Work it out who goes when but need a constant cycle, no leaving till your relief shows up. Now go do what you need to do."

The young man looked at the two families of smiths in the town and the look of determination on their faces gave Horace more hope than he had felt since getting the news. "John you and yours need to start churning out spear tips. Varen you and yours are on arrow tips. You need to make them heavier than hunting tips and square based with it narrowing to a needle point. Not sure if you have ever made a bodkin arrow before but if so thats what we are going for, if they have armor we need to be able to puncture it. Get to work y'all cause we don't have long enough to play around." The two families went their separate ways and Horace hopped off the dais and stretched out while he waited for the townfolk to return. His father patted him on the shoulder and let him know he would return after telling his mother to start harvesting and began jogging down the road. The spear square slowly gathered and when all of them that he could hope to expect gathered he grabbed the worst looking stick from the group and pulled out his belt knife. "Step one is carve your weapon. Needs to be two of my thumbs in diameter so probably two and a half for most of you. Start carving them down and when you think you are done bring them up here and see if they measure up to the one I make. Err on the side of it being bigger because bigger can be shaved down, too small is shite." With that Horace quickly carved down the wood to the proper stave length and laid it on the dais before walking to the lumber mill and and gathered as many semi-thin faces of wood as he could find into a cart before throwing an axe and a planer and hauled it back to the middle of town. He began hacking the wood into twenty rough circles and ten tall rectangles and had finished all of the gathered wood before the slowest of the whittlers had finished their work.

"Alright now everyone go home and get yourself a length of leather, a couple nails, and a hammer then come on back." The spearmen dispersed and by that time the archers had all arrived, including his father. "You all know how to fire a bow so that saves us some time. Now its about timing. You all will shoot on my fathers mark. I will leave your training to him because he is the best archer in town. Just keep them timed and remember what to aim for." That last bit was for his father and when he was done with the short explanation he returned to the rough shields, now planing off the rough angles to make it them a fully circular form for twenty of them and removing the nicks around the edges for the last ten. He finished with them not long after the spearmen returned and handed them out to each of them. "The straps will make it easier but for now you just get to hold these by the rim, gotta get you used to the weight now. The rest of the day is going to be formation work and I promise you it is going to be tiring but I want to get it out of the way first so that you can be rested by the time our enemy arrives. Take your stick in one hand and your shield in the other then form a square, ten men wide, three men deep. Front rows job is to focus on safety so you get the big shields. You will need to focus on keeping your spear braced on your right side and your shield up. After initial contact you are going to switch to your sidearm which sadly is probably going to be a hatchet, or a hammer. We don't have the time for the smiths to craft you all proper maces but what we have will do. Second row you focus on supporting the first row, when the orcs rush in its going to be like getting between a bull ox and his cow so you have got to hold. You will be bracing your spear on the left side for the charge so we have our front fully armed. If a front row fighter falls and there is a lull in the battle you pick up his shield and you take his spot. Third row you get the fun job, you guard the flanks and when they aren't harrying the flanks you pop around and you stab those sons of whores as hard as you can. Biggest folks get front line and smallest get back. Now form up!" The villagers did as told and actually managed to look halfway decent at it. "Good! Wilfred, Willem outside of the smiths, my father, and me you are the two biggest men in town, Wilfred I need you to take center position and Willem on your left, Thorin take up Wilfreds right. The center of our formation cannot break or everyone who calls this village home is dead. Tommy I know you aren't one of the smallest but you have the fastest hands of any of us, I need you in the back and on the flank so trade spots with Martha. Jane I have no objections with you taking the other flank just know you are going to see combat if you take that side, no question about it." The woman had her face set in a look of determination and simply nodded her understanding.

"Alright. Now reform." Everyone did as they were told and the square looked about as good as he could hope for. Horace changed the footing and hand position of some but as the sun rose to its apex the square looked respectable. "Good. Now we are going to do some basic drills. Back line you are going to try and hit my shield through the front lines without hitting an ally. I am going to be going at various speeds as I go up and down the line so be ready for it. Front lines just brace and hold for now." The tight formation drilled for the rest of the day, Horace randomly charging bodily into the front line to make sure they were bracing properly and the mid line was supporting them, other drills requiring the mid line to stab while the back line spread around to cover the flanks and get a clear line to strike at Horace. The sun was low in the sky when Horace finally called it for the night and told everyone to get their shields ready for the next day, attaching straps and putting any extra leather and padding they may have over the face of them. As he walked back home with his father beside him and Wilfred and his boys in tow he asked his father how the archers were doing and was pleasantly surprised to find that they all were firing on his que even though he knew when battle truly began it would likely be a different story. When the group was in front of Wilfred's farm Horace pulled the man aside to speak with him.

"I just want you to know I am putting you at our center because you are strong and stubborn as the abyss. I don't want you thinking this is about what happened a few years back." "I know Horace. I still can't thank you enough for stopping me and I owe you more than I can ever say. You are a good man and I know you are just trying to keep the village safe." In that moment something unexpected happened, the older farmer hugged Horace tightly for a few seconds before backing up with a sheepish grin on his face. "Now lets not think of the worst aye?" With that the older man walked to his home and Horace joined up with his father for the short walk to their farm.

The next day he taught each of them the technique he had previously referred to as rush and gut and it wasn't particularly complicated, whenever the opponents were engaged in close quarters combat the nearest frontline fighters would close the distance and put their shields up so as to seclude a particular enemy, shove a knife into their stomach and drag it the length of their midriff. Wilfred proved excellent at the technique which just confirmed Horace's decision to put him as the keystone of the position. The day went on and as the sun was starting to go down John and his sons arrived with a barrow full of spear tips and nails. The group worked on getting the heads affixed till the sun went down and once more they returned home.

On the fourth day Horace received the first reports from his scouts, two dozen orcish warriors with great-axes and scalemail armor were coming and they walked at a steady march and in a rough square formation which told him very clearly that these were not mere raiders, they were dealing with a warband. The training increased in intensity and on the last day before the orcs arrived the town worked together to make walls around the entirety of the town proper to funnel the orcs into one location for the battle to take place. The job was finished around noon and the non-combats made a massive feast for those who would fight the next day and Horace kept in constant contact with the scouts to make sure he knew where his foes were. That night the world was silent as people thought about the day to come but Horace had learned in his short time working with a mercenary company that sleep was precious and should be taken whenever you could. The morning sun rose and Horace strapped his armor on in silence as his mind went over the day ahead. The first few seconds of the battle would be the most important, if the line didn't break on the initial charge there was a good chance that they would be able to show that it wasn't worth the fight, if they broke it would be over. He finally slipped on his gauntlets and lowered his closed helm over his mop of brown hair. "I haven't heard anything from you this whole time. You gonna be there when I need you?" I am always here Horace. You haven't heard from me because you have been doing the right thing. No reason to badger you when you are following the right path. "Don't have much of a choice do I? If I wasn't helping you would be nagging at me to do something." You give yourself too little credit. You are a good man Horace. "You can't know that, I can't know that. You have been in my head so long I don't know whats me and what you have forced me to be. I have never had a choice." I am sorry you feel that way Horace but know that I am not the only reason you are a good man. "Whatever you say. Just be ready for whats coming, I don't think I will be able to talk the orcs out of this." It only matters that you give them a chance, that you try.

The young man kept his visor up as he walked out of the room he was given in the inn. The people of the town would draw courage from his face as he smiled confidently and walked through town, he knew that. He walked all the way to the front of the narrow alley they had created and looked out to see the orcs preparing themselves for the battle ahead, they seemed to be listening to a tall but thin orc holding a large sword and wearing fullplate as opposed to the scalemail of his kin. Horace's father walked beside him and looked with him. "So we are going to shoot the one with the sword right?" "Aye" "Good. He is tall enough that if we aim for his head none of the others will get in the way. Stay safe son. I know you will be the first in line but if things get dicey get out of there." "You know I can't." "I know, but at least lie and say you will." "Okay Da', I will do what I can." The older man put an arm around his son and pulled him in tight. "Love you son." "Love you too Da'. Now lets go teach some orcs what fear is." "thats the spirit!" The older man laughed and motioned to his archers to get ready, the group gathering before the ramps to get on top of the houses that made up the sides of the alley

The spearmen filed into position and Horace looked at the gathered men and women of the village. "I don't need to tell you what is at risk, you know it like you know your own soul. I don't need to tell you to fight for all you are worth because I already know you will. I am going to try and stop this fight without bloodshed but if I fail that I will bleed alongside you, I will give my last breath and my last drop of blood to keep you safe. Look to your family, look to your friends, look to the men and women who stand beside you. If your heart falters remember them, remember why you fight, and give them Hell!" The gathered men and women with weapons in hand pounded their spears on their shields and let loose a roar that even managed to give pause to the now approaching orcs.

When the orcs were a hundred yards from the front of the alleyway Horace shouted out to the orcish leader and the plate clad warrior walked forward. "I am Horace, son and protector of this village. I ask that you turn from your violent path and leave us be, if you wish to stay in our village for the night, to eat, drink and enjoy our humble company we are more than happy to have you. If you insist on violence we may die but we will take enough of you with us that it won't be worth it." The orcish leader raised the visor on his helm and it was clear he was a devotee of Gruumsh as one of his eyes had been removed and the lids seared together. "Hello Horace, I am Torak of The Twisted Spear. I like you Horace, you are brave, if you were an orc I would be glad to have you at my side but from curse of birth you are my lesser so instead I will slaughter you, take your food, your drink, and your women. I will break you and string your corpse from the walls you have so nicely made for me." "I regret your choice but let us not put it off. Come and break upon our line." With that Horace lowered his helm and walked halfway down the alleyway before turning around and facing the orcs. In a far quieter voice than the booming shout across the field Horace began counting down from ten.

Like clockwork when the man hit zero the orcs rushed forward, letting forth a fierce battle cry that was challenged by the villagers own. When they got close enough for the arrows to have a chance of piercing through the armored bodies Horace shouted and his father and the other archers rushed up to the top of the houses and began firing arrows into the orcish mass. They tried to hit the leader but he hid in the middle of his men and for all his height he was still able to hunch into the crowd. First one orc then a second fell to the arrow storm but still they rushed onward. When they got within range of his own power Horace raised his shield arm and splayed his hand. A green flame swirled around his arm and became a roiling vortex in his hand before shooting forth with blinding speed and thoroughly dissolving the head of the frontmost orc. Not long after the flame a gentle green light snaked its way from Horace and crawled up and around the archers, steadying worried hands and making shots that should have deflected off of metal find odd angles from which to punch through scale and chain. As the spell fully sank in the orcs where upon him and for the first time in the fight his mind focused only on himself, the greater battlefield was gone and instead there was only Horace and the orcs around him. The orcs proved more honorable than he had expected and instead of all of them swarming him and hacking away they streamed around him leaving himself and Torak squared against one another. "Archers aim at the rest of the orcs! I have this one."

The orc bowed and Horace did the same despite being certain the creature only did it to mock him. "I have fought a dozen duels human. I have never lost and that was before I was blessed by Gruumsh. What hope do you have of defeating me?" "How about you fight rather than slobber on your own spear eh?" The orc flushed with anger before the massive blade lashed out in a horizontal slice. Horace deflected the blow with his shield and took a step to the side, getting the orc closer to a wall and limiting the arcs of his swing. Another blow was easily deflected but the human knew his shield could not take many more blows, already there were cracks on the interior that he was certain were mirrored by the other. Time to live up to my own words. One more strike and I counter. This is gonna hurt.

Torak went for an overhand chop and time seemed to slow down for Horace. He raised his shield so the edge would meet the blade and the blade would slow down before connecting with his hand and although he had braced himself he had not known how much pain would be flooding his body as the blade sliced through the shield and down the length of his hand, getting stuck in the bone a few inches down his forearm. A look of excitement flooded the orcs face for the fraction of a second between his blow and Horace's own but as the young man's hammer came tearing through the air, a gentle green glow pulsing from its head, the excitement turned to terror. When the hammer made contact there was a crack like a thunderclap as Torak's spine and skull shattered beneath the blow. Gritting his teeth through the pain Horace let his hammer hang on its loop from his wrist as he pried the dead orc's blade out of his arm and a moment later the harsh green flames and the gentle green glow began to knit bone and flesh back together up the length of the paladin's arm. Last time I do that. Next time if it takes multiple hits its fine. Likely a good idea. I really don't need to hear from you right now.

The voice didn't come back in his mind but Horace noticed something far more disquieting than the voice, all around him had gone silent. He looked to where he knew a battle should be raging and was stunned to see the dozen remaining orcs laying prostrate on the ground, their weapons dropped beside them. A quick look at his fellow villagers showed more than a few wounded but his eyes immediately went to the only one he saw on the ground and once more bells chimed in his head. I know already, shut up. The young paladin rushed over to the downed villager and pressed a hand against him but the light didn't shine. Nothing came forth. "I need more damn it! If you are going to nag me about keeping people safe you better give me the power to do it!" Turn him over. Horace did as instructed but from the sorrow in the voice in his head he already knew what he would see. As he began turning the body over he saw blood and viscera spilling out onto the muddy ground. Laying dead before him was Wilfred, the old farmer had been nearly cut in half at the waist, only his spine keeping the blade from going all the way through. For all the pain he had caused others in his life Horace couldn't feel bad for the man, he knew Willem felt the same as the boy looked down upon the corpse but what he hadn't expected, from himself or from Willem, was a feeling of pride that was evident in the other man and began swelling in himself. Most of his life Wilfred had been a worthless drunk for most of his life and had only turned around when he had nearly done the unthinkable but when the village needed him, when it mattered the most, he had fought and died for them. Horace turned over the biggest orc, one who had died directly in front of Wilfred, and found the old farmer's hunting knife jutting out from the side of the massive warriors belly. Willem knelt beside Horace and put a hand on his shoulder. "He did what you taught us. The old pilgarlic was actually good for something after all. He died saving me, shield got broken when I was blocking for his rush and gut of that brute and he didn't think twice, he finished with the big one and jumped right in the way of the axe that was coming for me. Never would have thought I would have been the death of him instead of the other way around."

Horace and Willem stood up and shared a morbid chuckle before Horace made his way in front of the prostrate orcs, bloody hammer still hanging from his wrist. "You have taken the life of one of our own, you have tried to take the life of others, if the positions were reversed I know you would kill us all and leave our corpses to be eaten by crows. It is your good fortune then that we are not you." Stop this! They deserve to die for what they've done. "I give you this chance to change the path you walk. Help us bury our shared dead, help us return our lives to normal and you may have a place among us in this village." You have no right! Give my body back to me you thrice damned witch! "If you are willing to help place your weapon at my feet." You insufferable fiend if you are going to just give amnesty to the monsters that aim to destroy my people then you have no place in my head. Every orc walked forward and placed their belt hatchets at the armored feet of the paladin, the green light shining from his eyes. The light faded and Horace could feel the thing inside of him relinquish control but he knew that if he were to act against the orcs it would take over once more. Instead of fighting it he pointed toward a cluster of the archers, "Gather some shovels, let them show they deserve a place among us." With that he began taking care of the wounded, his mind raging the entire time.

Last edited by MundayKnight; Jun 26th, 2018 at 08:00 PM.
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Old Jun 18th, 2018, 01:46 PM
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Squeaked out a couple of reviews:



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Old Jun 18th, 2018, 03:36 PM
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Quote:
Originally Posted by ShadyRaven View Post
From the FR Wiki:

"When Bane fell during the Time of Troubles, Zhentil Keep was claimed by followers of Cyric. He controlled the keep and its citizens until 1368 DR, when he fell and Zhentil Keep was subsequently assaulted by white dragons and frost giants the following year. This siege left a large portion of the city, north of the river Tesh in ruins"

So the Attack I remembered is in 1369. If Cyric has already Lost control of Zhentil Keep, there could be instability. I actually need to look it up cause there might have been a long siege cutting Zhentil Keep off for months.
Ah! I did not know that!

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Originally Posted by ShadyRaven View Post
Up to the DM how much he wants to incorporate.
Short answer: I won't be.

Long answer: I don't find myself super-interested in the canon that came after where we're starting. There's totally some good stuff there, but for this Dalelands campaign - I'd like to stick to what the PCs do and what I happen to roll up in a roll table like the ones you see in the DMG or XGtE. I've got reference material for the state of things in 1368 DR - and going forward - I don't see the events of 1369 DR and beyond having much of an effect on this campaign.
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Old Jun 18th, 2018, 03:49 PM
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Application - Corine Winvos
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Name: Corine Winvos
Race: Forest Gnome
Class: Rogue 3 (Arcane Trickster)
Age: 51
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Alignment: Neutral Good

Description: Physical Description of your character.

Background: Far Traveler
Personality Traits: From the PHB or otherwise.
Ideal: From the PHB or otherwise. Also, please include what that ideal means to your character on a deeper level.
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Old Jun 18th, 2018, 03:49 PM
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Added some bio. Might add some tie-ins. Might not. I've a bit of time to craft more.
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Old Jun 18th, 2018, 03:50 PM
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A few more edits.
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Old Jun 18th, 2018, 03:51 PM
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Move along people. Nothing to see here. Nope, no secret text or anything. You have been misinformed...

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