[D&D-5e] The Seventh Moon

[FloatinFishBauble]

I would also be interested in posting a character soon. Thanks!

[Craigthulu]

A posting rate of 3 to 4 times a week would be reasonable.

[Rylus]

[Craigthulu]

[Bade]

Name: Cuahutéemoc Tlacelel - AKA: Flynn Roberts
Class: Bard
Race: Human - Mixed Blood
Age: 17
Ship Role: Repairman - Beginner, Salvager - Beginner
Background: Folk Hero
Personality Trait: Thinking is for other people. I prefer action.
Ideal: Destiny. Nothing and no one can steer me away from my higher calling. (Any)
Bond: I protect those who cannot protect themselves.
Flaw: I'm convinced of the significance of my destiny, and blind to my shortcomings and the risk of failure.
Physical Description: Dark-skinned and long-haired, Flynn cuts a dashing figure. He is tall, and muscular, quick with a roguish smile, and fond of sashes, billowing clothes, or anything that makes him look dramatic.
Personality: Dashing. Brash. Brave. Heroic. These are all words that Flynn has read about in his book a million times. He strives to emulate all these qualities and be every bit the daring and noble swashbuckling hero of the dog-eared and tattered adventure novel he reads, but the fact is that he is quite young and inexperienced, barely a few months outside his isolated village.

He tries to come across as worldly, but sometimes his naivete can show through. Nonetheless, he is unquestionably brave and willing to help those in need, like his heroes. However, he can also be a bit too into the "part", over-dramatic, prone to "inspirational" speeches or bursting into song at inopportune times, all things he also thinks are crucial to being a "hero".

He learned to be a hero from adventure books, and for better or for worse, that's how he tries to live his life.

Back Story: The boy who would later be called Flynn Roberts was born Cuahutéemoc Tlacelel, son of the village chief of an extremely remote Ixa'Taken village. His mother had died while he'd been very young, and so he was raised by his father.

The village was extremely remote, which suited the villagers just fine. 500 years had passed since the Valuan Empire had tried to take control of Ixa'taka. Even though they had been driven out and Ixa'Taka was now free, the world was not likely to leave the continent alone. Trade and foreign influence spread throughout the continent, bringing technology and cultures and customs foreign to Ixa'Taka, and this small village was not interested.

They believed that the foreigners brought nothing but trouble and disaster, doing everything short of driving traders out of the village at spearpoint to discourage outsiders.

Flynn's father was even more isolationist than the average villager, and under his rule as village chief the village grew even more isolated and hostile to outside influence, much to Flynn's dismay.

Flynn was captivated from a young age by tales of the outside world, and would latch on to any information he could glean from any traveller, trader, or merchant that passed nearby, pumping them for as much information as he could get before his father inevitably drove them out of the village. No matter how often his father forbade it, or how many lectures he received, he was born with a deep-seated lust for adventure, to see the world and make his mark on it.

The birth of this wanderlust lay in the pages of one of the boy's only mementoes of his mother, a worn book detailing the tales of a famous pirate hero, that she had given him shortly before she died. The boy taught himself to read using the book, and spent night after night reading it in secret, away from his father. He could recite the book by memory, cover to cover, and yet he kept reading it, his excitement kept barely contained. Here was a life beyond hunting and farming in the hills and forests, a life of excitement and wonder, every day a new challenge, every new port a new adventure!

He began his heroics young, and soon grew a reputation. He drove off wolves from the flocks, he trekked into the woods for three days to find a child who had gone missing and successfully retrieved her. A catastrophic mudslide buried much of the village, and he was the first on the scene, digging for survivors. His fame in the village grew, even as his father's distaste for his love of heroics grew in turn.

Finally it all came to a head when one day he returned to his village from a trip into the forbidden valleys where he often had his "adventures". He found his father waiting in the meeting hall for him. His father confronted him, holding the book, demanding to know where he'd gotten it. When he told his father where it was from, his father grew dark and angry.

His father yelled that he had too much of his mother in him. She had not been from the village, she had been an outsider, a wanderer, with the same adventuring spirit. That spirit had gotten her killed.

When she had come to the village, she had caught his father eye, and he had caught hers, and they had fallen in love. She had gotten pregnant and given birth to Flynn, and his father believed that she had finally settled down, despite her outsider nature. However, she grew restless and often ventured into the forbidden areas, just as he did, and one day she did not return.

They found her, days later, but it was too late. She had been attacked by some foul beast of the forbidden place, and had not survived the encounter. The villagers muttered that she had brought it on herself, that she had angered the gods by venturing out into their domain. His father had sworn to make sure no one would repeat her mistakes, especially not his own son.

His father took the book to a fire he had built and before Flynn could say anything, his father hurled it in. However, his father's condemnation was no match for Flynn's reckless courage, and before the book even began to smoulder, he had plunged his hand into the flames to retrieve it. His father shouted at him, but Flynn was already running.

It was clear this place was not for him. His mother had come from afar, and that was where his destiny lay: out in the open skies, roaming the world, finding adventure!

He trekked across the mountains and valleys until he reached a port and stowed away on the first ship he could find, a small salvaging ship called The Gullwing. Unfortunately, being stealthy in the forest is not the same as being stealthy on a ship, and he was discovered only a day into the journey.

The Captain of the ship, Captain Fernandez, was a kind man, however, and did not throw the boy overboard. He put him to work for his passage. The crew warmed to him as well, won over by his passion and good nature, and showed him the ropes of working on a ship. He learned to do some repairs, and even learned how to do salvaging dives.

However, the crew simply could not pronounce his Ixa'Takan name, and one of the crewmen dubbed him "Flynn", and the name stuck. After some more thought, Flynn decided to take Roberts as a surname, after the pirate in his book, and Flynn Roberts was born.

He stayed on the ship for several months, learning the ways of the skies, before finally the ship arrived at the Blue Sky Archipelago, where Flynn heard the rumours of the quest for Vyse's treasure. At long last here was the adventure he'd been looking for. Bidding Captain Fernandez and the crew a fond farewell, Flynn left to seek his destiny.

[Kaylie]

Name: Tempesta "Tam" Trueno
Class: Sorceress
Race: Human - Valuan
Age: 17
Ship Role: Shipmate (Beginner Navigator, Beginner Engineer and Beginner Radar Operator)
Background: Noble
Personality Trait: Despite my noble birth, I do not place myself above other folk. We all have the same blood.
Ideal: Noble Obligation. It is my duty to protect and care for the people beneath me.
Bond: I will face any challenge to win the approval of my family.
Flaw: By my words and actions, I often bring shame to my family.

Physical Description: Tam is tanned with green eyes and medium-long silky black hair, adorned with an orange flower. She usually wears golden military mage robes and has a pendant with a large princess cut storm gem around her neck, it is a family heirloom.

Picture was created by me using Hero Machine so it is pretty much how I imagine her.

Personality: Tam is clumsy and has low self confidence. She wants to please others and make them proud, be it her friends, family or the military. She is kind to others and is always quick to lend a hand, even if it doesn't always work out. Unfortunately she sees herself as a perpetual disappointment to all, but she tries her best to keep her head up and persevere.

Under stress, she becomes more focused and resolved to assist with any problem. Despite all her efforts she rarely seems to succeed when it matters the most, choking under the pressure. This showed itself time and again during her youth where no matter how knowledgeable she was on a subject, she rarely did well during exams.


Back Story: Tam comes from a long line of powerful Storm Sorcerers, all of whom are born during a storm. Her mother is the legendary high-ranking storm sorceress General Ximena Trueno (born Velez). Her father, Emiliano Trueno is also from a family of sorcerers, but does not himself hold any magical abilities. He is instead the Captain of his own ship as part of the Saber Fleet, commanded by Admiral Delmaro Maximus.

Tam's birth was plagued by an especially nasty thunderstorm, which was taken by her parents as a sign of her immense magical potential. Her parents named her Tempesta, as an homage to her roots and the storm that lead to her birth, a name she unfortunately grew up to despise. Not only does she find it extremely tacky and cliché, the name turned out to not fit her very well. She usually introduces herself as Tam and insists on others referring to her as such.

From a young age, Tam was unusual. Typically sorcerers on her mother's side had always begun to show their powers around the age of two or three, creating small sparks or gusts of winds as they learned to move around in the world. Tam showed herself to be an exception; as she aged, her parent's grew increasingly worried that she would never be able to use magic.

Nonetheless, her mother had always spent several hours each day teaching her about magic, sharing her family's history, educating her on general principles of magic, demonstrating spells and showing her how to draw out the magic from within. This was in addition to the high quality education her parent's societal ranks had afforded her.

Despite her teachings, she had shown zero magical ability until she had been almost eight, when she accidentally created a minuscule spark of lightning. That day had brought her family much hope. This led to additional magical lessons from her mother, which increased both in length and intensity. This was hard on young Tam, who wanted nothing more than to please her parent's and use her familial magic, yet found herself unable to.

On her twelfth birthday, her mother gifted her with a pendant, a family heirloom, whose gem was said to hold the power of the Storm itself. Unfortunately, it had little impact on her abilities, as she was a teen before she could conjure up the magic that flowed through her veins at will.

Tam's future had already been laid out before her birth. She was to use her vast magic to support the Valuan Military, as her mother and many ancestors before her. Despite having only the slightest magical ability and being unlikely to to even use it in an official capacity, she still joined the military at 16. She was nothing if not determined, and hoped it would make her family proud.

She figured she could continue to work on her magic, while also learning some military skills. Unsurprisingly, after her year of training she was assigned the lowly rank of Shipmate on a small merchant ship, which focused on back and forth travel between the Capital and the Blue Sky Archipelago. She had secretly hoped her parent's influence might start her off higher on the food chain, but it was shown not to be the case.

While she had focused on learning about navigation, engineering and radar operation during her training, she hadn't excelled in any of them. As a result, she often ended up being assigned general duties such as cleaning the ship, rather than being allowed to hone her skills.

Operating the radars was her favored task and she took every opportunity she could to try and improve her knowledge on the matter, in order to make her family proud. She would try to spend her free time around the experienced operators, who were often put off by her unmistakable ability to make things go wrong.

It was easy to get discouraged under the circumstances, and Tam found that she was starting to lose hope in her ability to serve her country without stronger magic and with little opportunity to contribute and rise within the military.

One night, Tam found herself sitting alone at the Lonely Anchor Inn, on North Point Island of the Blue Sky Archipelago, where her ship was docked for a few days while being unloaded and reloaded with traded goods. Not being old enough to drink (though that hardly stopped most people), she was instead having a small meal before bed. With little appetite, she mostly played with her food, while listening to the local bard.

Feeling blue and contemplating her options, and she found she had few. Perhaps, she could contact her mother and ask her to pull some strings? It seemed silly, but how else was she ever going to do more than mop the deck? In her heart she knew her mother wouldn't approve of such a request. She thought about her dad, he was a ship Captain after all, maybe he would be able to get her a position on his ship? Yet he had made it clear that the Saber Fleet was too dangerous for his daughter, and she knew it was hopeless.

Suddenly her focus was brought back to the room as she heard the crowd mocking the entertainer. Just in time to hear the following:

"Because my patron found this," Blue Bard took out a photograph "a picture of the Soul Crystal, one of Vyse’s lost treasures. It is only a matter of time before the others are found."

"Vyse's lost treasures?" She thought to herself. It seemed ridiculous, yet the bard's photograph looked very real and the item matched existing descriptions of one of the lost treasures. "Heh, well if anything can improve my magic that would be it." she muttered under her breath. Shortly after the shocking announcement, she headed up to her room.

Lying in bed, she found that the concept of searching for Vyse's lost treasures was becoming less and less ridiculous in her mind. She fell asleep, only to dream of an incredible journey searching for the lost treasures, which blessed her with the type of magic she only ever saw in her dreams.

The next morning when she woke up, she couldn't shake the dream. It seemed like destiny. "Don't be silly." she told herself as she got ready for the day and tried to put the rumor out of her mind.

Down she went in search of breakfast, only to come face to face with the bard from the night before... Asking a few questions wouldn't hurt right?

[Rylus]

Basics Name: Falstad Rook Class: Fighter (Going fighter 6/Tempest cleric 14 most likely) Race: Human-Zivilyn Age: 22 Ship Role: Boarding party/Navigator: Animal Handling-Beginner, Radar Operator-Beginner

Background: Sailor Personality Trait: My friends know they can rely on me, no matter what. Ideal: Freedom. The sea is freedom—the freedom to go anywhere and do anything. Bond: Ruthless Valuans murdered my captain and crewmates, plundered our ship, and left me to die. Vengeance will be mine. Flaw: I can’t help but pocket loose coins and other trinkets I come across.

Physical Description: A shorter stature man standing at about four and a half feet tall and weighing a solid hundred and fifty pounds. His pale skin is easily seen as his head is shaved bald and half is covered in runic tattoos. His eyes are a deep dark brown, almost black in color and most people swear they have seen lighting dancing within them. His bead is long enough to sit just above his belt and is braided with various beads and metal trinkets. He wears a set of chainmail armor that has seen several generations of battle damage and repair. Hanging at his hip is a warhammer that is shaped to have the head look like a diving bird of prey and the handle is a stylized lighting bolt. Beyond that a small crossbow hangs from his back along with a sheild both of which look like they have only seen a small amount of combat.

Personality: No matter the stress levels Falstad sees sailing as freedom. He is a fun loving kind of person who likes a good joke, even at his own expense, and can laugh off most things. He sees other sailors as kindred spirits looking for the freedom that he is and is willing to help those who need it. People who don't sail are people that are missing out on some of life's greatest adventures. Those few who would put sailors down earn themselves black marks with Falstad and he would sooner drowned than life a finger to help them.

Under stress he tries his best to laugh at the situation, very rarely breaking that happy go lucky attitude. He is the first one to launch himself into battle seeing battle as a way to prove that he deserves to be a sailor. When coming up against a force that would overwhelm him he laughs his way through the fear and if he was to go down he would go down fighting to the bitter end....laughing at his enemies as long as he could. He wants to die with a smile on his face and tries to fight along side others of the same mindset.

Back Story: Falstad was born in the city of Haven about twenty five years ago. His early life was full of toil and hard work as his family were farmers in the mushroom fields. As he grew Falstad began to hang out near the taverns and docks to hear the stories of the world above, often shirking his duty in the fields and getting an ear full when he got home. But those stories gave him hope for something more....he began to dream of a life without mushrooms but everyone he mentioned it to told him he was crazy and that he would always be a farmer just like his family had been for generations. This negativity just pushed the young Falstad to try even harder and he began to sneak into areas that the militia and sky crews owned, he would stay in the shadows and mimic there exercises and soon he had a firm grasp of fighting through mimicry which was a good thing because he got caught a few days later. Falstad begged the captain and crew who had caught him to take him along saying that he could fight. The captain was willing to give the youth a shot but the crew wasnt convinced and so as a way to prove his worth Falstad convinced the captain to let him fight a member of his crew in a sparring match. The crewmen agreed and the fight began, the crewmen throwing Falstad the beating of his life but the strange youth would not stay down no matter the amount of pain everyone could see that he was in. Near the end of the fight Falstad even began to laugh and everyone gathered thought he had lost his mind but Falstad had come to a realization....he only needed one clear shot to win. As the captain was about to end the fight and send Falstad home the youth's fist connected with the crewmens temple and knocked the man out cold. The hush of the crew lasted only a few moments before cheers erupted and they began patting Falstad on the back saying that was one of the best fights they had seen in a long time. When the crewmen that was knocked out awoke Falstad smiled at him under the bruises and swelling and offered him a hand. That settled everything and Falstad was allowed on the crew.

Falstad sailed with the crew for years and earned his place among them, life was hard but a lot better than tending mushrooms....at least it was until Falstad's life was shattered. His cremates and captain were slaughtered by a Valuan who deemed the pirates. Falstad survived only because they underestimated his determination to live but if he had not been found by another crew he would have died. Recovery took months and for the most part Falstad returned to how he was save for the burning hatred he feels for the Valuans that murdered his friends. Now he sails with whoever will have him, the most recent recruitment was in the Lonely Anchor Inn where a bard had knowingly or unknowingly put a new dream in Falstads head...he would find that treasure for his family and friends.

[ampfetamine]

Rework in progress

[Craigthulu]

[Ericg1s]

Name:Me~Bra
Class: Druid
Race: Dwarf
Origion/Mechanical background: Scout.
Age: 30
Ship Role: Weather Forecast-Beginner
Background: Me~Bra has been restless for a long time, and wanted to go out and see the world. The great underground cities of the dwarves were too confining to her, as were the grove duties of the order which she had been pledged to as a small child. She is the true 'unrooted tree,' a druid with no territory to protect or watch.
Her family and the other dwarves of the area were simple, humble farmers. There was usually enough to eat, but for a few lean years, things went bad and the druid circle was asked for help. The druids taught the people to live with the cycle of the lands, but when the cycle simply went bad several years in a row, magic was needed-and magic comes at a price!
The pledge to the order is not something she remembers, but her parents could never forget it. The shame of not being able to feed her properly; the need to beg the circle to look after her. She was permitted to spend quite a bit of time with her family after this, but as she grew, the druids gave her less time to spend with them, slowly distancing her to prepare her for the circle. She does not blame anyone for the choices they made, but is reluctant to tie herself down to the choice of others-she will determine her own destiny!
Personality Trait: Restless energy-seldom seems to stand still.
Ideal: Wanderlust-she wants to see the world.
Bond: The ship and her companions are what she is wiling to protect.
Flaw: Has difficulty being patient or waiting.
Physical Description: Short and fat, with light skin, and a light-brown color to her eyes and hair. Wears her hair short, and wears rather plain, loose clothing. Seems to be trying to look plain. Her eyes, ears, nose, mouth, and chin, and the general shape of her face and head are all very round. Her fingers and toes are a bit short. Has good teeth.
Personality: Curious when she first enters an area, but becomes bored quickly once she has seen a place. Has difficulty remaining focused on a single subject for long, but there are a few exceptions. She enjoys learning more about the network of ley lines which cross the world, and her studies of this subject are the main reason she focuses on druidic powers to the exception of other classes. She also enjoys learning stories of distant lands and ancient times.

[Craigthulu]

[Jat]

Tiggard L'Mounce Informational Name: Tiggard L’Mounce Age: 10 Race: Valuan Class: Bard Background: Entertainer Role: Second RP BubbleCaptain's Protege Airship Skill: Basic Navigation and Radar Operator. Combat: Buff/Support Personality Trait: I love a good insult, even one directed at me. Ideal: Beauty. When I perform, I make the world better than it was. Bond: I idolize a hero of the old tales and measure my deeds against that. Flaw: I have trouble keeping my true feelings hidden. My sharp tongue lands me in trouble. Description/Personality Physical Description: He stands in boots meant for his father, with assurances that one day he would grow into them. At four feet five inches he is quite shorter even for a boy of his race and age. His thick coat is of a royal blue, with dark charcoal trim. Belts and satchels fasten his clothing tight. When the heat flares he lives his jacket at home, showing off his white shirt and black pants. His favorite toy is whitewashed wooden lute, which he carries at all time. Tigger also brandishes a engraved rapier. “Today is that Day.” His face screams of his youth, with big cookie blue eyes, and a know it all smirk. Personality: Tiggard tends to be on the flamboyant bratty side, of the good child coin. He always is ready to quip with a hurtful respond when verbally aggressed. His upbringing kept him around woman with vibrant playful personalities, and he learned from it. Every jest written down in his mind, and every dirty joke readied for a laugh. His personality is larger than life, and definitely bigger than his size. Tiggard prefers being the center of attention, and choose to master skills that would keep him there. Backstory Tiggard never really knew his father, Charles. Recalling only his early memories of a faint figure. His mother told him, that he was some sort of sailor for some long past merchant company. Charles left a pair of boots, and his blade. When he left Tiggard at the age of four, all the boy remembers is the vanishing wagon riding down their long crowded street. Later that year, him and his mother assumed the worst. When coin ran out, his mothered learned of work at the local pleasure house. For most it would be doom and gloom, but for Tiggard he was home. Everything he could ever dream of. All day access to beautiful woman, thousands of adventures passing through over the years, and music. Plenty of songs filled his thoughts, and as a quick study he learned of words far beyond the average of his age. Some of these words would certainly not be clean enough for the gutter. When his mother Detania was betrothed to one of her many suitors, he opted to stay behind with Madame Tracia. It was hard for the pair to separate after so much, but the boy knew where his heart called home. He was an orphaned child of a brothel, he knew that and so did the world. A few years later, Tiggard grew in his musical prowess, and renown for it. He became a local boy wonder. Still to young to enjoy the full benefits of living at a whore house, but not too young to avoid being targeted. When Madame Tracia passed away his protection was voided. A much more curelish and greedy woman replaced her, Madame Sythia. After a week of pleasantries she attempted to sell the boy to an old noble. He ran, to his mother's new home. He kept quiet peering through the windows. He saw his mother breastfeeding two infants. He had brothers! or sisters! His decisions awoke in him. At one point he had chosen the life over his mother, and now his mother had moved on. Tiggard did the only thing he could, he ran. He made his way to the port, and found a boat sailing for the new world. He hid until departure, risking it all on the a whim. He told himself huddling in a barrel of salted potatoes, “Today is that day. “ Tig threw himself on the mercy of the captain, offering to do whatever work needed be done in exchange for passage.

 

Tiggard L'Mounce
The Older Muscian

He stood quietly smiling in the corner watching this inferior open for him. The boy was no older the ten, nor above five feet tall. When the man and woman combo finished the retinue, they moved off the stage. Tiggard readied himself, pulling his cuffs and popping his overly large collar. ”It’s past your bedtime kid.” The man assumed he was the star of the night. That just because he and his chick where at prime time that they were superior. Tig paid no visual attention. Only responding with a quick poetice melody in his boyish voice. ”Your rhymes are trash, and your chick is ugly, maybe you should think twice, before your bitch gives me a tuggy.” He ends with smirk, believing he the better.

Seeing the child come on stage,the patrons slowly began to scatter for the door. Two large men stood up readying themselves to leave. ”Leaving so soon, you think you’ll get some tonight? Listen to the tale of Dash Cowardly Skunk, I might even teach you how to raise your trunk. “ He knew he had to be a little crude to keep these men entertained. He began to strum, slowly at first. He kept his melody tenable, and easy to follow along. He catered to guts filled with greasy food and alcohol. For the second time he strung his lute, picking the final note. Each verse he sang, letting his notes fall from his child mouth. He held some notes, he shorted words, and most of all he owned his original piece.

”It seems to be and what rains true, that some conquest will best you.
Whether rhyme or reason, to sleep with her might be treason.
But, you digress with good reason, but thoughts of her aint leaving.

He chose his life afraid of the cost, but he felt compelled to think of his loss.
When he grew tired and alone, he knew his life had been blown.
He would give it all back just to change the tone, begging and pleading to get one last moan.

He never reached for the little things, a hand a kiss a ring of bling.
All would have changed his life for the better, without a ding or fetter.
The moral if you believe in one, is once you find your love run.
Not away but towards her you must, even if your just is lust!
Tell her you love her and hold her tight, even if the cover of night.”

He first song was met with a mediocre response, but the few ladies in the bar loved his sense of romantic honor. He didn’t often perform outside the brothel, but when he did he enjoyed it. He changed his style of tunes and tried again. He preformed for another two hours, before he decided to call it a night. The Bartender offered him coin, a share of the tips he assumed. Tiggard found himself at an impasse not quite needing the money. The young barmaid must have been ten years his senior, but that didn’t matter. To him she was a beautiful gem. Tiggard was slightly to underage to ascertain what most men desired, but he often would try out his lines to see their effect. ”Pardon me miss, you are the most amazing creature I've had the pleasure of seeing. Your golden eyes consume my thoughts, so much so that if I had all the gold in this world I would trade it for one kiss from you, but all I have is this small bag so I’ll hope that will do?” He had this fundamental lack of shame. He loved women, and he enjoyed making the happy. He was granted his wish with a small peck on the cheek. He blushed with a sense of awkward accomplishment.

He began his late night stroll home, a smile donned on his face. The streets were dark, and void of life. In the alley he saw a dead cat, he wanted to poke it with a stick but he held his actions back. With his attention focused else where he failed to see the previous singer lurking. His fists were clenched. Before Tig could react he received a stern punch to the gut.

”YOU THINKS YOU CAN SAY THAT **** TO ME BOY!”

His face ran red with hatred. He struck Tiggard again, causing him to fall to the ground. Tiggard wasn’t particularly tough, but he had been knocked around be for. Men would often push their limits, and Tiggard knowing defeat would be swift viewed it as his responsibility to stall with his face until brothel security would arrive.

”NOW GIVE ME YOUR GOD DANM LUTE! I am gonna break it, and watch you cry as the pieces fling off the wall.”

The boy cried out, ”Please no no. Just beat me, please don't break it!” He tried to make his plea as pathetic as possible, he was truly at the whim of the jaded old man. His partner stepped in calming him down. She wanted him to suffer as well, but refused to destroy the young boys world. That night he was beat to an inch of his life. He laid bleeding like a recently murdered corpse. His ribs ached, his nose broken, but his lute was left perfectly fine. Tiggard L'Mounce wouldn't have it any other way.

 

Tiggard L'Mounce The young boy sat cross legged inside the barrel. His bum started to hurt from the potato pressure. Hrmmmmmm...... Tiggard noticed his fingers twitching, and his mind flutering. He started to hum, which quickly turned into a opportunity to practice. With a distant and creative tone he started in a soft voice, "Tisk, whisk, frisk. I got a tisk on my twist gotten that frisk." He shook his head. Tiggard was frustrated, bored, and weak in the mind. He had only been in the barrel for a few hours, or maybe a couple of minutes. Tiggard couldn't tell. Still though this was no place for an "artist." His stomach groaned out of boredom. "How bout Risk." His eyes lit up with excitement. He began with a soft easy tone, "I struck out on this adventure at great risk, with not even a whisk. Today of all days I seek fame and glory, beyond that lay before me." His head bobbed up and down in approval. Just then his barrel began to shake. His barrels lid rips off in a barbaric fashion. "Oye Mate! What have we got here?" The sailor was already gross, without the months at sea. His stench laid waste to Tiggards nostrils. His teeth were half absent, apparently without the conviction to show up for work. But, he was perceptive. He heard Tiggard's voice, and acted on it. "THANK GOD!" Tiggard erupted in tears. "The boy kept hitting me and then he shoved me in the barrel! Please I gotta find me mum." The sailor questioned, "What? You seem like a stowaway!" Tiggard only replied with a sad face, weeping eyes, and a massive frown. "Come on lad, we havn't left port to long. Maybe the captain will let you swim to shore." He laughed while grabbing the boys collar, pulling him straight out of his container. hrmmmmm...why didn't I just buy that ticket. Fate" He loved using that word. Fate was fickle. Fate was mysterious. However, he most enjoyed using the world in place of being responsible for his actions. "I cant swim, that would kill me!" He spent the rest of the walk to the captains chambers dragging his heels and going limp, similarly to a dead fish. He wasn't about to through a tantrum, but he didn't want to make it easy for his captor. "Wait wait wait, If you let me go I'll give you riches beyond your comprehension." He used his hand motions to peak the mans interest. "Its called soap!" He couldn't help himself, he had to get one last jab before swimming to shore.

[Gulielmos]

Interested sounds fun

[Craigthulu]

[Craigthulu]

I have noticed players are primarily picking Valuans and Mixed blood races. As a result I have made modifications to the racial modifiers for balancing. This may or may not affect the decision to pick a certain race.

The UA Artificer has been added as playable class as it fits with the setting.