[D&D-5e] The City at the Heart of Yesterday

[BlackDragon0]

app NAME: Kaine Strongblade. RACE: Halfelf (moonelf) CLASS: Fighter ( aiming for Eldtitch Knight) DESCRIPTION: Being half moonelf and half human he is taller and more built than most elves while having all their natural traits. He spent his life training, traveling, and fighting. He now stands with a grim face (handsome but always looked like he'd kill you rather than say hi). Wears dark green, or all black clothes, and carries his weapons everywhere he goes. BACKGROUND: Outlander. CHARACTER OVERVIEW: A high level overview of your character concept: I'm not sure what this means but I'll do my best. So the idea for this ch. Is basically he's out cast from his clan. They made him so unwelcome that he trust Noone. He works well enough with or for people that as a hired guard for caravans he is good. He's aimed to become a Eldtitch Knight. So was hoping to play him a good while. And hopefully he'll learn what a friend is along the way.

PRELUDE to the BACKSTORY 31 years ago.... Arielle daughter of the Lord of a moon elf clan. Married a human ranger in secret( a harper). Who had come to help fight a army of orcs and goblins. He died protecting the clan from an attack, 9 months later. Arielle was pregnant by then. Her father was furious. And denounced her. He was going to exile her and the baby but then he'd have no heir. A bargain was struck the boy would be raised and trained by the weapons master. ( This because both the Arielle request and the Ranger's death in protecting the clan.) But as punishment for her marriage to the Ranger, he imprisoned her. This imprisonment would last until Arielle denounced her son so he could be exiled. As this clan accepts only pureblood. The Lord came to ask her to renounce her son daily, she refused. The weapons master came to her yearly to tell her about Kaine's training, and how he was treated. The Lord grew impatient and began to threaten to have Kaine killed on patrol. He even sent another moon elf to assault him. The weapons master told Arielle all he knew and that Kaine was old enough and skilled enough to survive on his own. And told her the lords hate of Kaine will continue to grow, till he has Kaine killed. So on his 15th birth day Arielle denounced Kaine. He was exiled never to return.

BACKSTORY Kaine was raised in the home of a weapons master. He was never given a family or clan name. He was only know as Kaine. The weapons master drilled him daily, training him. Never allowed to treat him as a son, or to protect Kaine from the others of the clan. The children and adults treated him with animosity and hatred , he never understood. On occasion there'd be one who'd hurt him. But mostly they treated him as though he didn't belong. Kaine once asked about both his parents. He was told his mother died giving birth,( as she was in prison he never met her) and his father wasn't of the clan. No names were mentioned ever. Kaine asked why he was so hated. And was told cause his parents had done a great wrong onto the clan and he was being punished for their miss deeds. Then in a moment of mercy the weapons master told Kaine he had a Destiny to become a great knight, which would redeem him in the clans eyes. So he must train hard and protect all goodly creatures. This was the one and only time Kaine was given kind words from anyone of the clan. But those were all he needed he trained even harder than any one in the clan and grew stronger too. So strong in fact he could use a greatsword better and faster than anyone could 2 short swords, including the weapons master. Kaine. was also taught eleven magic by a wizard. He wasn't able yet to control it but knew he could. He'd never be as powerful as a wizard but. the Wizard told him he would be a Eldtitch Knight. An Eldtitch Knight was a warrior who had the ability to study and use magic along with his physical skills and training. That it was rare but it would allow him to protect others even against mages, wizards, ect. So the weapons master was right Kaine was going to be a knight. Kaine trained into his teens and joined patrols and watch duties. Even stopped a goblin raid. Still the was treated as though he didn't belong. He was attacked during a patrol by a zealot. Kaine beat him and put his sword to the man's throat. He was going to kill him he was so angry. But the rest of the patrol intervened. Then on his 15th birthday, the Lord had him arrested and brought before him. Said it was proven he wasn't a pure blood moon elf . That this made him a danger and a threat to the clan. That this was proven when he almost killed a member of a patrol.( The fact he was defending him self. was never mentioned.) Because of this he was to be exiled and executed if he returned. Kaine left with his clothes and a few weapons. He spent 5 years alone in the wilderness. Which led him to Ten Towns. When he hired on out of Luskan to help guard a caravan. Then the last 10 years as a caravan escort. For ten towns. The caravans coind him the Strongblade. And so he is known as Kaine Strongblade. To his knowledge the Towns were built by people who weren't welcome elsewhere. And given his life it made a perfect place to dissapear. He'd winter in Bryn Shander. And escort caravans the rest of the year.

RP EXAMPLE "Hey Strongblade good to see your back. Those goblins give you trouble ?" Said the smiling captain of the watch. "Since when have a handful of goblins given either of us trouble? Fun that's what killing goblins is. I mean I ain't a untrained farmer with a pitch fork." He responded bantering back. " Well I know you just got back and all but..." said the captain in a way that says he doesn't want to ask. "Spit it out man. You don't have to worry about me. I always come through for you." Said Strongblade to the closest thing to a friend he had At least that's how he saw this man. Hopefully the captain felt similar . "Well it's just rumors, but we believe that there might be trouble over in the spine. We need someone who knows their way around to go check it out. You know see what's worth seeing or not. If it's nothing after a couple days just hire on as a caravan escort back here. And report. But if there's something and your needed you do what you can. Or if worse come back and tell me. So I can get the duke( or whatever the current title is) to send a battalion out." Said the captain. "See it's nothing to fret about. A easy lazy scouting mission. Won't take long. When I get back you owe me dinner. " He jested. As he turns to leave again. Having all his gear already cause he travels prepared for anything.

[Trashking]

Originally Posted by Demandredd

Trashking - absolutely fine with me. The game is open to all skill levels for 5e.

Thanks so much, Demandredd!

I believe my application is finished. If there's anything I missed or misinterpreted, please feel free to provide some feedback. (:

[Demandredd]

FAQ and Applications table has been added to my second post.

[Andor]

Completed my application for Ulfgar. I took the liberty of spending a gold to pick up a dagger, if that's okay.

[Tyeal]

And with an RP sample slapped together, Ljorn Bestel is complete!

[Grouchy]

App complete. Ideally a PC master would be the most sense for a butler PC - Tara Jardeth would be a perfect fit.

Character Concept Name: Arathorn Valwraek Race: Half Elf Class: Rogue Alignment: Lawful Neutral Background: Courtier (Butler) Description: Arathorn is a lean, handsome man of elvish descent with pale skin and long shoulder length white hair. He has deep gray eyes that seem to twinkle with friendliness, and his regal face is clean shaven and youthful looking. His slightly pointed ears are each pierced with a golden hoop. He is dressed in the latest finery with a long black coat with gold buttons and embroidery with a puffy-collared white shirt underneath. On his hands he wears a pair of white gloves, giving him a formal and distinguished look. A set of tan breeches adorn his legs, combined with a pair of fancy black leather boots pulled up to just below his knees. A rapier hangs from a leather belt around his waist, with a brace of daggers on his other hip. He stands with poise and confidence, and his deep velvety voice speaks of one who is highly polished. Traits: I placed myself in service to a noble because I find the world of finery, status, and extravagance to be thrilling and I wanted to be closer to it. I am always looking for work to keep busy, especially cleaning. Social etiquette is important to me, so I am always highly polite no matter what the circumstances. Ideal: I am a perfectionist and take pride in everything I do. Bond: I am unwavering in my loyalty to my master and I would die for him. Flaw: I greatly dislike getting dirty and am a bit of a neat freak.   Arathorn is a face who, once he becomes a Swashbuckler, will be a decent melee combatant as well. He has a variety of useful skills and can negotiate social settings which can be useful. If a PC is rich/noble, he would be the perfect accompaniment to them. With expertise in Deception and Persuasion, he is ideal for chatting with others. He has the usual assortment of rogue skills, can speak several languages, and will eventually be a formidable swordsman. As a servant, he has no problems sitting back and letting others dictate what he should do so he would not be a leader for the group but would definitely be an invaluable resource.   Born into poverty, Arathorn was always anxious for the finer things in life. When his father and mother asked if he would be willing to enter indentured servitude to a Leaving this open ended for now - this could even be a fellow PC!local noble, he jumped at the chance and has never looked back. His mentor was an elderly but kind human man named Tauriand Ancharus, the primary manservant. Through Tauriand Arathorn learned how to carry himself, speak eloquently, prepare clothing, cook meals, wait on guests, and keep a tidy household. Tauriand was also a retired soldier, and he taught Arathorn the ways of the blade to always be able to protect his master. Soon Tauriand passed away and Arathorn is now the official manservant of the noble, and is incredibly loyal and protective of them.   Rising early before the dawn as is his usual routine, Arathorn busies himself with his standard morning routine. After washing his face and hands quietly, he dresses by candlelight and makes his bed so tightly you could bounce a coin off of the blanket. He then immediately gets to work preparing for his master's day. After placing a kettle on the wood oven, Arathorn retrieves his master's armor and uses his handkerchief to ensure its polish is sharp and there are no blemishes on the splints. He lies out their clothes for easy donning, and ensures their equipment is all in order and prepared for travel. Arathorn checks his master's sword, ensuring the blade itself is impeccable and of the proper edge. Once the time draws near enough for them to begin preparations for meeting, he gently rouses his master awake. Entering the room with the hoods of his lantern down to less disturb them, he speaks in a soft tone so as not to startle them. "Milord, it is Arathorn. We must prepare you for your travels this morn." After his master rouses, Arathorn gets to work. Swiftly and with a practiced hand, he helps them wash their face and hands, then assists them as they get dressed. Fixing their hair briefly, he tops it off with a whiff of perfume before stepping back with a discerning eye. Nodding in approval as he finds nothing out of place, he then aids his master in donning their armor and does some final cleaning on it before stepping back to admire his work. "Majestic, Milord. You are ready. Come, let us meet the others." Leading the way, Arathorn pauses in the doorway to the foyer where the others are waiting. Smiling and nodding at his master's companions, he clears his throat and announces "It is my greatest pleasure to announce the arrival of To be edited later.Lord John Doe" He then moves to the side and bows politely to let his master enter behind him.

[Togot]

RP sample added. my app should be done now

[morgantha]

RP sample complete and I believe that means Blythe is done. Good luck all!

[Demandredd]

Table has been updated.

[Disaster Master]

My application should be complete as well. And Tara would certainly not mind a butler.

[Noltelix]

Storvan • Character name: Storvan Forhold • Race: Human • Class: Fighter (Sage background) - would move toward Rune Knight at level 3 (or Eldritch Knight if Rune Knight is not available). • Description: Standing nearly 7 feet tall, Storvan is truly a giant of a man. In fact, rumors have persisted for some time that actual giant’s blood runs through his veins. Rumors that he has done little to dispel, privately enjoying the deference such speculation bestows. He cuts a unique silhouette when robed in the manner of the scribes and scholars with whom he identifies, even while towering over the rest of them. His manner tends toward the serious (some might say dour) and he is generally reserved in his speech. • Character Overview: Storvan is a reluctant but capable fighter. Time spent in the Luskan militia has provided a solid martial basis and what he lacks in refined technique he makes up for in raw physicality. Even so, fighting is not his passion and he would prefer to consider himself a scholar first. Though he does not have a staggering natural intellect he is diligent. His research interest is history, predominantly of the north and especially of giants. • Backstory: Storvan has often wondered what truth there might be to the rumors about his heritage. His own paternal lineage is something of a mystery to him. He never met his father and his mother passed away at a young age, though she was able to see to his future by calling in a favor before she passed. As such, he grew up as the collective ward of several scribes and archivists in Neverwinter. His youth was spent fetching ancient scrolls, refilling inkwells, and eventually transcribing important texts. He developed a keen interest in the history of the northern sword coast and was especially excited to learn what he could of giants; their culture, their sagas, and their runes in particular. When he came of age at 16, whatever pact had been struck by his mother expired and he was politely invited to seek his fortune outside of the libraries and archives that had been his home to that point. Given his physical bulk, a spear was thrust into his hands almost as soon as he had stepped out the door. He fell into a gig with a trading caravan as security and eventually found his way north to Luskan. He settled for a time in the City of Sails, spending some years serving in the Luskan militia. He did what he could to continue his studies in the limited free time guard duty afforded but found that the libraries and archives of Luskan were not the measure of those he’d grown up with in Neverwinter. About ten years ago, Storvan was sent north to escort another caravan trading out of Luskan and eventually arrived in Bryn Shander. Inclement weather forestalled the caravan’s return and it soon became apparent that the weather would not be relenting as days turned to months. He did his best to keep busy, but he found the lack of anything resembling a formal library to be sorely disappointing. His research stymied, he took what he thought to be a temporary position with the town guard, figuring that he might as well keep busy while he was stuck in the north and earn a bit of coin. What he came to realize is that folk in the far north are lacking neither lore nor history. It simply isn’t written down. He began to turn a careful ear to local rumors and tavern legends that seemed to hold a thread of interest. He also began transcribing them, taking it upon himself to become a chronicler of sorts. He has found no shortage of rumor and history to chase and so it is that he finds himself in Ten Towns still, a decade on.

Roleplaying Sample Storvan pulled the furs tighter around his face as he stood, staring stoically over the wall of Bryn Shander and out into the night. Maybe. It was difficult to tell when it was actually night these days, but it hardly mattered. It was dark. It was always dark. He thought back with some sense of irony to the days when he’d imagined wall duty in Luskan to be a miserable, chilling experience. Up here it was something else entirely. This wind didn’t bite so much as sink its fangs into your very soul. “Forhold, inside. Shift change,” a voice broke the silence behind him. Storvan turned and nodded to the captain as the next guard settled into his post, a dark lump against a darker horizon. “Have you heard anything further of ice trolls,” Storvan asked, curiously. The captain sneered, “Tavern tales, friend. Don’t believe half of what those sots conjure up.” Storvan nodded once more and took his leave of the wall. He hadn’t expected much from the interaction. The captain was typically uninterested in considering anything beyond dicing and shift changes. Inside, the guardhouse was scarcely warmer than the wall, but at least it kept the snow out. An important detail when one tended to carry paper and parchment, as Ten Towns’ unofficial chronicler was prone to do. Descending the stairs two at a time, his long strides led him in the direction of the Northlook Inn. Storvan had found that the raucous clientele of the Northlook were typically the best source of rumor in town. The tradeoff was the risk of flying food and spilled ale that sometimes came dangerously close to his journals. Light and laughter spilled out onto the street as he approached. The tavern appeared to be bustling. Good, he thought, time to do some research.

[Flying Fox]

Ren Name: Ren (Lirennia Cerlyndel) Race: High Elf (Sun) Class: Warlock (The Fathomless) Description: Ren is taller and broader than many of her kin, with little of the otherworldly grace that the other races often find striking in elves. Her old dance instructor called her clumsy, but really she's just a little too brusque and forceful in her movements. She dresses in the layers of wool and fur favoured by most denizens of Icewind Dale (for good reason), but has retained a few small pieces of jewellery from Silverymoon that hold particular sentimental value. Lately - and quite unusually - she's been having trouble trancing, which can be seen in the dark rings around her eyes. Character Overview: With Ren I wanted to create a Warlock with strong personal reasons for seeking to develop her mysterious eldritch power. Mechanically I'd like to build her more as a utility spellcaster (possibly taking Pact of the Tome so she can pretend to be a wizard) than an Eldritch Blaster, and hopefully have some fun with some of the fluffier Invocations. Backstory: Lirennia Cerlyndel, a Sun Elf from Silverymoon, was sent to the north as a roving researcher for her home city's feted School of Thaumaturgy, tasked with unravelling the mysteries of the elusive elemental spirits that are (almost) unique to Icewind Dale. She has spent more than a decade in and around the Ten Towns researching these 'chwinga', and while this has mainly meant wandering aimlessly from town to town chasing up stories or rumours (or, Mystra forbid, actual sightings) of the little buggers this itinerant lifestyle suits her just fine. Ren (as she prefers to be known) was never really much of a wizard. The people of Icewind Dale know not to question newcomers too closely, and so Ren has managed to keep largely to herself the fact that she is by some distance the least magical student Miresk's School of Thaumaturgy has ever been obliged to accept. Were it not for the inordinate influence her family (master magicians to an elf) wields within Silverymoon, she would of course have been rejected out of hand; as things stood, she (along with half the city's many spellcasting instructors) was forced to endure nearly a century of fruitless training in the arcane arts before the embarrassment she brought to her clan finally outweighed their stubborn certainty that she was merely a 'late bloomer'. Her posting to Icewind Dale was seen as an acceptable compromise by all parties - Ren included – and it is only in her darker moments that it begins to feel like exile. The Frozenfar can be a harsh place for the unprepared, but Ren persevered, and after a dozen bitter winters and fleeting, halcyon summers she was learning to love her new home. The fact that she found the people of Icewind Dale almost entirely ignorant of - and, indeed, indifferent towards - the theory and practice of thaumaturgy certainly didn't hurt. Then she fell through the ice of Lac Dinneshere, and something within her changed. By rights the frigid water should have killed her, of course, and Ren is still not quite sure how she returned alive to Caer-Konig. All she remembers is the shock of the cold, the sense of sinking for what seemed to be hours... and then of something moving in the waters around her, that she somehow knew even in the inky black to be far larger, far more graceful, and far stranger than anything natural living in those lakes... ...and then she was on land again, and the thick ice caking her clothes sloughed off in a glittering cloud that left her bone-dry, and as warm as one ever gets in Icewind Dale in winter. And since then Ren has found herself thinking more often of those old, failed lessons in rudimentary spellcasting that plagued her youth. The precepts and formulae her long-suffering instructors drummed into her still don't make much sense, but now instead of loathing they fill her with odd insights, even inspiration. Ren has, for the first time in many years, begun to practise magic again. And now... she's getting results... Roleplay Sample Ren forced herself to spend most of the voyage on deck, staring down into the ink-black water. She wasn't sure what she was expecting to see. A monster? A dragon, a sea serpent, some twisted beast crawled up from the caverns of the UnderdarK? A... giant fish? She knew she was being foolish, but she made herself keep looking all the same. She may have almost drowned in this lake, but that didn't mean she could let it hinder her work. Ren stood aside politely for a ferryman to tie something off. Too late, she noticed the incredulous look he cast at her bare head and loose-wrapped shawl. Damn! She'd thought it seemed mild enough... "Ain't you cold, girl?" he asked, huddling down into his own sealskin coat as what felt to Ren like a cool breeze cut across the deck. "Oh... elf blood, you know. We don't feel the cold so intensely," Ren lied with a polite smile. This had been happening more and more lately... "Huh," the ferryman grunted, sounding unconvinced. "Alright for some... but I dare say even you elf sorts'll be feeling it if the weather keeps up like this. It's taking us longer and longer to cut the boat out of the ice each morn - gets any worse, the service'll have to stop altogether. You got business up in Caer-Konig?" "That's right," Ren replied, and left it at that. The ferryman grunted and moved on, and the rest of the trip passed uneventfully. Ren had heard a drunken fisherman in Easthaven swearing blind that 'little blue men' had made off with half a dozen of his best hooks - this was her 'business' up in Caer-Konig. About as good a lead on the chwinga as she ever got, and as likely to lead to nothing... she was glad she'd made the effort, though. Though relieved to be back on dry land, she felt her courage returning as climbed from the docks up into town. It was just a lake, after all. The ice-choked docks at her back had been quiet, but Ren heard a distinct plop behind her, as of a stone cast into a still pond. She wheeled about and saw, from the corner of her eye, a thick black tail slipping away into nothingness. A ring of gentle ripples - in the air, the snow, the very fabric of the world around her - spread out from the point where it had vanished, disappearing before they reached her, and all was quiet once more. Ren sighed. She had been foolish, staying away from the lake all this time. It was far too late for that...

[JohnStone]

Alyssa Allbright
Race: Human
Class: Warlock (Celestial)
Alignment: Neutral Good
Background: Acolyte of Tamara
Character Overview: A naïve young girl that believes in the good of all things. She is a devout priestess and master healer. That also wrecks stuff with blasts of heavenly light.

Description:

[Maya Conti]

Dorann Stoutstone Name: Dorann Stoutstone Race: Hill Dwarf Class: Cleric (Forge Domain) Alignment: Lawful Good Background: Folk Hero Personality Traits: -I judge people by their actions, not their words. -I have a strong sense of fair play and always try to find the most equitable solution to arguments. Ideal: Respect. People deserve to be treated with dignity and respect. (Good) Bond: I worked the land, I love the land, and I will protect the land. Flaw: The people who knew me when I was young know my shameful secret, so I can never go home again. Description: Dorann is stout, yet pretty well-built like most other dwarves. Seems most comfortable wearing his armor, Dorann possesses the most impressive beard, which is something he is truly proud of, and his hair is slicked back. Both his beard and hair are red in color. If he has to fight, he is most comfortable wielding a mace and a shield for his protection. Dorann often has a rather intense look on his face, which may indicate that he is a serious and taciturn person, but in actuality, he is pretty laidback and friendly despite his serious look. Character Overview: Hearty and boisterous, Dorann seems to lack the grumpiness and inflexible mindset that most dwarves are characterized with, having left his home long time ago. For more than fifty years, Dorann has lived his life in peace in the town of Bryn Shander, having forgotten how it was to live among fellow dwarves. For all he knows, he has lived his whole live here in this town. Most townspeople are already familiar with Dorann's stout figure, having accepted him as one of their own. Dorann is also a skilled blacksmith, having opened his forge and workshop in Bryn Shander shortly after arriving there. He is also a devout worshipper of Moradin and his ordained priest, and while there are only a handful of Moradites who can be found in the town, Dorann is respectable enough as a priest that he has officiated marriages on many occasions and other priestly duties in the town. Backstory: Dorann Stoutstone was born in Stoutstone Clan, and he grew up believing that he was destined for greatness. As a youth, he was brash and reckless, often thinking that if he swung his axe hard enough, he could defeat any enemy in front of him. And yet, there was an incident where he encountered an enemy so strong that his courage failed him. He abandoned his fellow dwarves, leaving them to die at the hands on such enemies. Overwhelmed by shame, Dorann had decided to put himself on self-exile, leaving the hills that he lived in. Thinking of himself as a dishonorable coward, he ventured out to a place far away from home, and soon, he arrived at Bryn Shander. As the townspeople accepted him, Dorann had decided that the only way to restore his honor was to protect it. Already humbled by the event that drove him to self-exile, Dorann contributed to the town in any way he could, becoming a functional member of society, becoming the town's protector from anything that sought to harm it. Having grown wiser and less opinionated, Dorann thought that he would live there for the rest of his life. RP Sample Life had always been simple for Dorann ever since he settled down here in the town of Bryn Shander many years ago. He worked at his forge, crafting tools and weapons for the townspeople while at the same time, ministering over religious matters here in this town, even though there weren't many adherents of Moradin in this place. He had been accepted as one of the people here, and Dorann pretty much had an easy life without having to think of his past failures. "Dorann, you there?" A man called Dorann out, and the dwarven cleric of Moradin stepped out of his workshop, gruffly looking at the man. "We really could use your help right now." "Hrmh..." Dorann grunted as he took off his gloves. "What's the matter?" He asked. "My boy hurt himself while carrying some woods. Maybe you can check on him and heal him?" The man said. "...Lemme see 'im." Dorann said, nodding. The man smiled. "Thank the gods! I promise, I'll pay you later." "...Gimme some woods." Dorann told the man. The man nodded. The dwarf then reentered his workshop, removed his working clothes and put on something cleaner. Then, he headed out and followed the man so that he could treat his son. Life had been pretty simple for Dorann. He did his business. He ministered over the religious matters. He treated those who were sick. He never expected anything would change in his life anytime soon. Life was good.

[Demandredd]

Hey all, new applications seem to be slowing down now to a trickle so at the moment I'm considering bringing the closing date forward to 10th February. If that's not going to leave you with enough time to apply or complete your in-flight application then let me know now before I commit to the change.