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Old 03-10-2019, 05:58 PM
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The Fall of Greyhawk Rise of the Maimed Lord

Game NameThe Fall of Greyhawk — Rise of the Maimed Lord
Game SystemDnD 5e
ThemeOutmatched adventurers seek to save the world from a long forgotten evil
FlavourStrong Survival Horror Elements, Mystery and Investigation, Character Driven Role Play and Development
Plot Summary


There were many things that we did not realise on that dreadful night. That while the city was plunged into chaos.....this.....this......was just the beginning. This night, this dark night, it was but the harbinger for what was to come. I will tell you now the thing that learned scholars fear to speak outright of. The one thing that those who truly understand speak of in the shadows of darkest night.

It is here. The End Times -- it has begun.

A thousand years ago, the world of Oerth was shaken by a series of events that would come to be known as the Twin Cataclysm. The events of this terrible time shook the world to its very core and profoundly altered the course of history. In the year 5094 SD (-421 CY), the Suloise initiated an event known as the Invoked Devastation in an attempt to end the centuries long war between them and their hated enemies, the Baklunish. This catastrophe tore apart the grasslands of the Baklunish and turned their homeland into the arid desert of the Dry Steppes. Utterly devoid of food and water, the peoples of this once fertile land died a slow and withering death. In response, the Baklunish mages unleashed the Rain of Colourless Fire upon the empire that destroyed their home. On that night, the heavens opened and invisible fire rained down on the unsuspecting Suloise people, burning not just them, but the rock and soil upon which they built their houses to molten ash.

Over the course of a few days, two mighty empires were destroyed through their own folly, and their civilisation buried underneath a desolate wasteland. Only the ruined citadel of Tovag Baragu remained -- a single sombre reminder of the foolishness and hubris of humanity as well as the dangers of war. That was over a thousand years ago -- and ever since mortalkind has guarded against allowing power of the sort that brought the entirety of two civilisations to their knees to be used again by those of ill-intent.

Yet, ever since, those of greater learning studied the events of that past age, piecing together the events that slowly led to the near destruction of the world of Oerth. They see things that they almost dare not speak of -- omens and portents in the wind that speak of disturbing similarities between that age and this one now. There are some who see that which others are afraid to. They see scribbled writings of ancient prophecies that foretold the coming of the Invoked Devastation and the Rain of Colourless Fire -- and they see references to a third cataclysm, one still to come.

One that will tear apart not just the world below, but also the heavens above.

The wheel of time turns once more -- drawing us forward.

Deep under the earth long forgotten beings begin to stir, woken by the presence of powerful fragments of a time long gone and a promise once made.

It is the Year 586 CY, and while there are those who have forgotten the warnings and folly of the past, there are some who have not. It has begun......again.

*****

You are experienced adventurers who have based yourself within the Free City of Greyhawk. Although your true home is out in the wilderness carving a name for yourselves with the blood of your enemies, it is here that you have made a home between homes. It is here that you rest between one epic adventure and the next.

Things are about to change.

One night, eight powerful and influential citizens of Greyhawk are brutally murdered while you sleep. Overnight, the city is flung into chaos as the good people of Greyhawk mourn their loss. There is no apparent motive to the murders and none who are suspect. The crimes are as shocking as they appear pointless -- why would anyone seek the deaths of those beloved to the city? Those who have done nothing but good in the name of the Free City?

You are contacted by a grieving friend of one of the eight -- someone who would very much like to see her friend's killer brought to justice. Yet even she does not realise that this is the beginning of something far far deeper and darker. That even now the world and all those within spiral inexorably downwards to the shadows of oblivion......

About the Game and ApplicationGreetings one, greetings all. I am Tarus, and I would like to tell you a story.

One of the good things about 5th Edition D&D is the reasonable ease and simplicity that GM's can create encounters that will provide a suitable and balanced challenge for a party of any level.

This will not be one of those games.

From the outset you will be thrown up against powerful and sinister forces beyond your ability and comprehension and racing against the sands of time as they begin to run out. You will be outmatched, outmaneuvered and you will be in over your heads from start to finish. I will throw at you the most brutal and difficult encounters that I can devise in my demented imagination and expect you to find ways to survive.

I suspect that anyone applying a hack and slash mentality to the encounters in this game will likely die in quite brutal and horrible fashion, so be warned in advance that if you are squeamish about character death in PbP you will likely not enjoy this game. You are not the most powerful people in the room here, you are but pawns and chess pieces in a greater game being played.

For those of you who are up to what is going to be a challenging and difficult game and enjoy a good survival horror experience I welcome you and your application, we're going to get on famously with each other .

Those brave and courageous individuals who are still here, I am looking for the following details in your character application.

Name:
Race:
Class:
Personality Traits:
Ideal:
Bond:
Flaw:
Background:

Please provide me with further information on the following:

Appearance:
Personality:
Backstory:
RP Sample:

Finally, as alluded to in the intro, you will be contacted by an old friend of yours to kick off the adventure. I have provided a description of said NPC below -- please provide me with a couple of lines detailing how your character came to meet said NPC and their thoughts on them.

 


In terms of mechanics, please find the below parameters that will be used to generate your character once the final characters are chosen. I will not allow UA or homebrew sources in this game -- this is non-negotiable.

1) Starting Level: 9

2) Starting Gold and Equipment: We will discuss this on acceptance to the game -- as you are higher level characters I expect you to be richer and have more magic items than usual. You will need them to survive .

3) HP: Maximum for 1st Level. You have a choice of rolling for the remaining levels or taking class average once the forum is created.

4) Acceptable Sources: PHB+1. +1 means that you can choose a second hardback source alongside the PHB for character generation - this must be one of the official WotC releases.

5) Ability Score Generation: 27-Point Buy

6) Variant Humans? Yes

I will look to accept between 4 and 6 characters -- this will be based on whether or not I find your character concept to be unique and compelling as opposed to taking a group based on an ideal class composition. If that means no healer, then no healer it is.

The game will be set in the Greyhawk Campaign Setting and will begin in the City of Greyhawk. There are quite a few Greyhawk wiki's available online for perusal, but if you're struggling for details when it comes to the game world and setting then by all means ask, I'm more than happy to help.

 


Closing Date: Saturday 23rd March

Last edited by Tarus; 03-14-2019 at 02:17 PM.
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Old 03-10-2019, 07:31 PM
penbeast0 penbeast0 is offline
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I have an idea . . .

right-aligned image


Name: Tryggva

Race: Variant Human

Class: Barbarian 9

Personality Traits: I fled the highlands for fear that I would fail those who relied on me.

Ideal: Death before dishonor is how I was raised but I do not believe I would be that person.

Bond: I would do almost anything rather than be branded the coward that I know myself to be.

Flaw: I know myself too well; thus I always wait for the time when I will fail myself and those who rely on me.

Background: Outlander Exile

Please provide me with further information on the following:

Appearance: Tryggva is a large, unkept man who takes little care for his appearance, even when sober

Personality: He is a moody, sullen, and frequently drunk man who pushes others away for fear of forming a bond that will lead to the inevitable betrayal and failure that he fears.

Backstory: Tryggva has always known himself for a coward. Even as a young boy, in a culture where bravery and daring are everything, he always felt his stomach clench and his brow grow cold at the inevitable fights and risks of growing up in the clans. He tried for years to hide this; to prove to himself he wasn't a coward. He took dares other boys refused, stupid risks that smarter warriors refused, challenged men that logic said he would lose to. But always there was that inevitable hesitation and fear, overwhelming fear, blackening his senses and the knowledge that he would fail. Maybe not this time, but when it counted.

Unable to discipline himself to the rigid norms of a true warrior, he let his fear overwhelm him in actual combat, triggering a wild-eyed screaming attack that won him fights he had no business winning. In fact, he gained a reputation as a bearsark, a killer, and a risk-taker. Ashamed to take credit for bravery he knew he hadn't shown, but unwilling to admit to cowardice that would shame his family and clan, he took to drink and a sullen anger. Eventually he left the clans, traveling the roads, selling himself to unworthy merchants or selfish adventurers. That way when his failure came, it wouldn't hurt so much. Or so he justified his life to himself.

Now he has come to the City of Greyhawk, a pit of stench and corruption, and to the drow, Minra Zaughym, to whom he had been sent by a former companion who he had fought with but never liked. But, what choice did he really have?

RP Sample:
Tryggva looked up from the reverie he had fallen into at the shock of a meaty thunk behind him. Spinning, he saw Anders, the snotty Paladin who shared his watch stagger up from behind his screen, an arrow through his throat. Surprised, Tryggva did nothing as the cold fear of death flooded his body, rising from his bowels to paralyze his arms, legs, and voice. More arrows flew, and Tryggva knew they were outnumbered and outplanned. The panic came, and with it the shame and rage, finally ripping him from his stupor. Getting a good grip on the weapon he held in his shaky, sweating hands, he saw no escape behind him. The way out was up and through. His scream tore at his throat, he would be hoarse tomorrow, and he rolled forward charging the unseen archers in front of him. There wasn't cover, there was too much ground, he felt himself being hit in the shoulder and side, the barbed points biting into his vulnerable flesh. Then he was in amongst them. There were two knights among the five bowmen, but they would have to wait; the bowmen were lightly armored and if he was to die, he wanted to take some of them with him. Tears streamed from his eyes and froze in his beard and he slammed his blade into the first body, and then the second. Another arrow hit him, piercing his left forearm and one of the knights had gotten behind him with his sword. . . .

And yes, again, he lived. In fact, he was a hero, again. His charge had given the camp time to regroup and the gospeler they were protecting had brought the wrath of whatever bloody god he believed in down upon the main force of the ambush. Now they had him in the tent of healing while the caravaners brought him wine and talked about his bravery. As if they knew. He drank more of the wine. He had frozen, again. He had been afraid and dead. The very memory brutally clenched his stomach and his body spasmed, voiding and staining the sheets as he vomited back up the wineskin he had finished.

"Lie back, it's all right, everything is fine." But of course it wasn't. It never would be. His failure had been washed away again by fate and blood, but the next time he might not be so lucky. Next time, he might let everyone down when it mattered. Two days later, he left the caravan without even picking up his pay and headed for Greyhawk. There, in that anonymous cesspool of a city, maybe he could find enough cheap win to drown himself into believing that one day things might change. At least as long as the wine lasted.


https://www.rpgcrossing.com/profiler/view.php?id=79819Character Sheet

Last edited by penbeast0; 03-23-2019 at 05:12 PM.
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Old 03-10-2019, 08:54 PM
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Name: Jake Tomb
Race: Half-Elf
Class: Rogue
Background: Criminal
Speciality: Burglar
Personality Traits: The first thing I do in a new place is note the locations of everything valuable, or where such things could be hidden.
Ideal: I steal from the wealthy so that I can help people in need.
Bond: I will become the greatest thief that ever lived.
Flaw: An innocent person is in prison for a crime that I committed. I'm okay with that.
Backstory:
 

[IMG]
right-aligned image
[/IMG]
Appearance: 5'9, slender, but athletic build, hazel eyes and jet black hair down to his shoulders with matching goatee. Wouldn't know he's an half-elf with his ears hidden by is hair. He wears a pair of swords sheathed at each hip, a bow at his back and a dagger sheathed at each thigh and each rib.

Personality: He's the quiet type, he rather just sit back and watch everything he makes sure he doesn't miss a thing. Will mingle with others at times, but he rather stay in the background. Trust doesn't always come easy to him since he couldn't trust most people growing up. He has an eye for anything useful and valuable. His vices are money and women. While he dismisses folks that looks down or give others a hard time when they are down and struggling, he is quick to anger when a child is in harm's way, due to how tough his own childhood was. He's not a risk taker, only when he knows he has a good chance of succeeding and while he will fight when he needs to, he doesn't expect to be out in front and others better not expect him to or otherwise the will be disappointed. He fight his own way, hit and run, strike from the back, and ambush style.
Role Play Sample: A shipment that was expected by the orphanage was stolen by bandits outside of Hommlet. The inn was full of news of the bandits, increasing in numbers, their ruthless attacks. Jake sighs, a fellow thief he had hired to find out about the bandits never returned. Looks like he going to have to go himself, his uncle had once told him, "To make sure things are done right, do it yourself." So he made arrangements and prepared to leave in the morning. Before he retired for the night, he saw an old rival from childhood. The man hasn't changed, Jared caring nothing but himself, rude and crass. He made Jake's childhood a miserable one, as well as others. He was ready to leave unnoticed when he saw the man shoving an older boy out of the way. Jake only heard stories about the man and wouldn't doubt half of them. Thinking of a plan, he watched the man sit at the stool, ordering a drink. He still had that nasty scar across his forehead from a woman that he had raped some years back. He saw some men at a table, looking around for a another player for their card game. A couple of wealthy men was at the table, so Jake joined and played a game of cards with them. Occasionally each one would go to the bar for a bottle and Jake grinned. When it was his turn to go to the bar, Jared was now half way drunk and Jake slapped him across the back and greeted him. Not noticing who it was, Jared shoved him away, threaten to kill him if he touched him again. Returning to the table, Jake noticed the men looking around the table, one of the wealthy men looking upset.

"Hey, don't fret, fresh bottle for all!"
"Wish that was it, my belt pouch is gone, besides my money, I had a heirloom in there, been in the family for generations! I haven't gone anywhere."
"Hmm, was that heirloom a gold locket, pure gold perhaps?" Jake asked with concern.
"Yes! Where is it?"
Jake turns and pointed to Jared. "See that man, he's been drinking, he just showed me the pouch, saying been awhile he didn't have to kill someone when robbing. Did you stand next to him when it was your turn to get a bottle?"
"Yes, I did, I remember his smell. Nasty looking man, looked like he was ready to kill someone."
"He threaten me for touching him. Wasn't on purpose, damn. He has your pouch, I'd be careful."

So the man called the bouncer and Jared was found with the item and was arrested, he protested, threaten to kill everyone involved which didn't help his cause any, especially when they found the pouch on him. Jake smiled as he went to bed, one less person the world had to worry about. The next morning, he took the letter asking for help against the bandits, making sure he had everything he needed, then was on his way.
__________________
Leaning against the wall, watching the others rush by him, he grins. "Go ahead, go get that treasure that's laying there. Be more for me after you die."

Last edited by Seekr34; 03-13-2019 at 12:04 AM.
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Old 03-10-2019, 08:57 PM
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Posting interest. Since I'm always playing sneaky characters, this time around I feel like trying something completely different and go with a paladin. It will either be an Oath of Conquest with 2 levels of Warlock, or an Oath of the Crown with 2 levels of Fighter: it mainly depends on which one I'll manage to come up with a better backstory/characterization for.
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Old 03-11-2019, 04:09 AM
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I have a rogue/cleric multi-class that I've always wanted to revisit. I'll have to rework some of her build to accommodate the PHB +1, but I think I can manage it.
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How do you wanna do this?!
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Old 03-11-2019, 05:13 AM
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I'm looking forwards to seeing what you all have.
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Old 03-11-2019, 08:51 AM
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Ohhh!
Going to toss my interest in, gonna draft me up another cleric because I'm addicted to healing apparently~

~~~Withdrawn~~

 

Last edited by Retry; 03-21-2019 at 09:01 AM.
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Old 03-11-2019, 09:03 AM
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Ok, here goes nothing.


Name: Alexis Valentine
Race: Human
Class: Paladin 8/Warlock 1
Personality Trait: If you do me an injury, I will crush you, ruin your name, and salt your fields.
Ideal: Responsibility: It is my duty to respect the authority of those above me, just as those below me must respect mine. (Lawful)
Bond: I will face any challenge to win the approval of my family.
Flaw: I too often hear veiled insults and threats in every word addressed to me, and I'm quick to anger.
Background: Noble

Appearance: Alexis is exceptionally beautiful and she knows it. Tall, fit, curvaceous, with deep eyes, silky hair and a seductive smile, she takes great pride in her ability to look gorgeous even when wearing full plate armor, and actively sees to her own legacy, to make sure that tales of her exploits as a seductress are just as widespread and enjoyed by the general populace as those of her heroics. She sees her beauty as a weapon to be brandished on the battlefields of courtship and diplomacy, much like she brandishes her axe on the battlefields of war.

Personality: Alexis is always composed, perfectly mannered, and emanates a calm, kindly, soothing aura... That is, until someone does anything that angers her (which actually happens quite often, because she's got a very short fuse and is quick to take offense at things), at which point all of her classy womanliness goes right out of the window, replaced by the kind of fury that would do a barbarian proud. In dishing out punishment to those who wronged her she's relentless as she is petty, bringing down the sheer crushing power of her Oath of Conquest on the most minor of offenders: cut the line at the post office while she was waiting for her turn? Better prepare to have your hometown razed, your family sold into slavery, and your fields salted. What makes this worse is that, as a paladin, she always endeavors to respect the written laws, but since she is a major noble, the laws are often written to favor her and her ilk, meaning that she technically IS within her right when she so pettily (and so brutally) seeks retribution against those who wronged her. She expects those below her to show her the same respect she shows those above her, and to be as quick to carry out her bidding as she is to carry out that of her superiors: disobey her direct order? Better prepare to have your hometown razed, your family sold into slavery, and your fields salted.
Being 28, she's also starting to display signs of Christmas Cake syndrome: for all her skills as a seductress, holding on to an actual long-term relationship has proven quite tricky for her, which hasn't been helped by her own career as a knight (it's difficult to find time for dating, when you're out fighting orcs). As a result, she tends to be quite touchy about her age: call her "madam"? Better prepare to have your hometown razed, your family sold into slavery, and your fields salted.

Backstory: Alexis is the illegitimate daughter of Lord Silverfox, major noble of Greyhawk. She was recognized by her father, which allowed her to be raised in the family's opulent mansion, and to enjoy the pampered upbringing and the perfect education of her step-siblings... But still she had to adopt the surname of her mother, and was excluded from the family's succession: as she grew up, this impacted her personality, as well as her life choices, in multiple ways. Firstly, her decision to become a knight was motivated by the lack of career opportunities for an illegitimate daughter: being barred from inheriting, she couldn't really become a true-blue noblewoman, and the lack of a dowry made marrying her off an impractical option... And she felt a standard everyday job, not to mention an adventuring life seeking treasure in forgotten dungeons, would be beneath her, so at that point a life as a knight, as a defender of the city and an enforcer of its laws, felt like the only realistic solution left.
Secondly, her status as an illegitimate weighed heavily on the way her personality developed: everyone at the mansion was nice to her, they tended to her education, they provided to her every need, and her step-siblings were never rude to her... But they always felt distant, detached, she was someone they were nice to, but she was never one of them: thus her constant drive to prove herself, her constant desire to achieve more than anyone else, and even her tendency to assume that deep down all look down to her, and that every word hides a stealth insult. Even her decision to go with the Oath of Conquest, rather than the seemingly more appropriate Oath of the Crown, was motivated by this: she wouldn't feel satisfied with just sitting there and waiting for the city's enemies to attack it, so that she could defend it from them. She would actively go seek those enemies wherever they may lurk, and preemptively root them out in the name of the laws she's sworn to enforce: conquering the neighboring lands before any enemies can arise from them is the best form of defense, at least in Alexis' mind... And those who don't share this mentality and liken it to tyranny would be right, but would also do better to watch out.
And now a threat to the city's stability is emerging from within the city's itself? Unacceptable. Alexis won't stand for it: she will find the root of this wave of evil and eradicate it, or she will die trying; her pride, the same pride that led her down this path, the same pride that made her as feared as she's beloved among the general populace, the same pride that led her to bargaining with the mysterious forces of the Shadowfell for more power, won't allow her to so much as contemplate any other option. Be the foremost on the account of being the most powerful, or die: such is Alexis' mentality in all things.

Mechanical notes
 


RP SAMPLE

In a small room of the immense library, a patron who wandered off the main reading area would have been surprised to find two exceptionally beautiful women, one who appeared to be in the middle of browsing through some books, and the other sitting at a small table her whole upper body resting heavily on top of said table, and a miserable expression on her face.

I'm bored...

The latter said: the hypothetical visitor from before would have also been surprised to see that she was wearing full plate armor, not exactly the kind of fashion choice one would associate with a library.

Bored bored bored bored BOOOOOOOOORED! Minry, why am I so bored?

I've told you a million times not to call me that.

The other woman replied: she was a drow, which would no doubt add even more to the hypothetical visitor's confusion.

Besides, you're a knight, a defender of this city's order and peace. If you've got nothing to do, then it means that Greyhawk is currently at peace: shouldn't you be happy about that?

But how am I supposed to stay sharp an become an even better knight, if nothing ever happens? Become a knight, they said! Crush the enemies of the city under your heel, they said! Fight dragons and mad liches, they said! Instead, all we get is the occasional unlicensed wizard accidentally opening a dungeon in the middle of the city, or pathetically underleveled crocs in sewers: I can't even remember the last time I fought something of appropriate CR! It's a damn shame, is what it is.

The drow put away a book and, after considering her friend for a moment: she shook her head. As a long-lived, virtually perfect underground elf, she had troubles understanding why humans were such trill-seekers: she figured it had something to do with how short their lives were... Although that still didn't explain why they'd actively seek to make them even shorter.

Well, if you're really that bored, you could investigate those murders in the city center. That's what everyone is talking about lately.

Yeah, funny thing about those.

The knight replied.

We've been looking into them and... The victims have nothing in common with one another, and even the MO is inconsistent: the only thing that seems to link them together is the timing, but unless a clear motive can be identified, we essentially have no case. Besides, I'm not really that good at the Sherlock stuff: I'm the one who's sent in to beat up the bad guy AFTER someone else has identified him, you know what I mean?

Geez, and that's supposed to make me feel safe how, exactly?

The drow jokingly replied

With one or more dangerous murderers on the loose and such a carefree defender on my side, I feel like I could be targeted at any time.

This caused the knight to give out a hearty laugh.

Minry, you've turned down my attempts at asking you out what, 35 times so far?

37 actually, but I don't see what that has to do with anything.

It does! Everyone knows that the strongest knight in town is head over heels for the hot drow librarian, do you really think anyone would be so suicidal as to
target you? If there's something every single citizen knows, is that making it personal with me is a VERY bad idea.


Ah, of course. And I'm sure that, when the murderer comes for me, your bragging will make a very effective shield against him.

This finally caused the knight to stand up, a warm smile on her face.

Look, I'm being serious here. I know you really don't see me THAT way, and I know that I might not look like the most dependable knight in town... But I do care about you, that will never change: should you ever find yourself in need of some magically-aided muscles, I'll always be there for you. So if someone does make the mistake of targeting you or someone close to you, you come straight to me, ok?

This heartfelt speech brought a smile to the drow's face, as well.

Eh, alright. You're a crazy, violent, power-hungry, adorable tin tyrant, Captain Alexis Valentine.

And don't you forget it!

Last edited by Tears of Tomorrow; 03-12-2019 at 03:25 PM.
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Old 03-11-2019, 03:43 PM
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Alistair "Hawkwind"

Race: Variant Human (Oeridian)
Class: Champion Fighter
Personality Traits:
Im confident in my own abilities and do what I can to instill confidence in others.
I judge people by their actions, not their words.
Ideal:
Respect. People deserve to be treated with dignity and respect. (Good)
Bond:
I protect those who cannot protect themselves.
Flaw:
I have a weakness for the vices of the city, especially hard drink.
Background: Folk Hero
Appearance:
Al is a young adventurer in the prime of his life. His eyes are bright and his manner is carefree. It goes a long way to hide the turmoils of his past from public consumption. He stands tall and lithe at six foot one inch, and just over one hundred sixty-five pounds. His skin is a very light tan and his hair and eyes are deep brown. He keeps himself clean shaven but allows his hair to fall whichever way it will. It is very thick and sometimes ungainly between haircuts. Despite being a wealthy and successful mercenary at this point, he still dresses as if he were a scruffy ragamuffin warrior. He feels it helps him blend in with the common folk and get free drinks at taverns. He can most often be found in his loose fitting dueling clothes and road leathers. He's usually smiling or at least smirking and there's typically a glint of mischief in his eyes.

Personality: Alistair is outgoing, gregarious, and kindhearted. He's altruistic, often to his detriment. And he is charming, or at least many consider him so. His extroversion conceals deep wells of sadness and loss that he has not opened in years. This sometimes results in sudden fits of rudeness where he leaves parties early, is excessively blunt and abrupt or drinks heavily to ease the pain. The last is especially common.

As a victim of deep abuse at a young age, he has an especially tender heart for the suffering of children. He's mortified by the thought of another enduring the horrors of his own life and is determined to prevent this from happening. He has alot of empathy for others, though it may not be obvious upon first meeting him. He usually puts up too much of a show with his bluster and rowdiness for it to shine through. In his business dealings he adopts a more harsh tone. Otherwise, he'd be working for free, and his ambitions are far too grand for that.

If his affection for other people is his most positive trait, his drinking, carousing, roughhousing, and taste in other intoxicants is his most obnoxious and destructive. It's lead to dashed friendships, broken romances, and a handful of misadventures that have sometimes brought him near financial ruin. Without his reputation as an effective sword for hire and his status as a beloved hero of the common folk, he'd have lost everything by now to his whims and desperation.

Backstory:
Alistair loved his family dearly. While they were poor, they offered him a gentle, abiding love. He grew up surrounded by parents and siblings who had squabbles like any others, but were bound together by their affection for one another. It was far from idyllic, but it was home. He had an older brother and sister, and a younger brother. All of them worked at their father's farm when they weren't running off and getting themselves into trouble or swimming in the local lake. Al became quite the young cook during this time (a skill he's held onto).

Of course, all that joy has only served to increase the sting of what was to come. In the midst of tensions to the north, little villages like theirs were left unprotected by soldiers and guardsmen that had to be sent to the border. This made them appetizing targets for raiders, bandits, and slavers. Especially when the villagers themselves were relatively affluent. One such group of ruffians targetted their lands in the middle of the night one summer evening, putting everything (and everyone) that they couldn't carry off with them to the torch. It was a nightmarish massacre. In front of his eyes, his own beloved parents were pressed into the sky upon pikes as a warning for those who might challenge the will of these animals. Babes too young to sell were left to their fates in the burning town. Alistair was too shocked and frightened to resist them. He was hauled into the arms a massive orc and carried off. Both of his older siblings were cut to ribbons trying to save the nearly apoplectic Al. His younger brother was discarded with the other small ones. The horror was nearly too great to process. He couldn't even cry. The scale and grandeur of the cruelties were too great. He was too young to have context for them.

So few were left. But he and a handful of other young people were carted off. Destined for a life of torture and back breaking slavery. The details will not be dwelt upon for too long, for they were ugly, maddening, and far too sordid to recount in detail here. The grotesque indignities he suffered for a year and a half at the hands of those fiends threatened to break him so very often. He soon realized that this band were servants of the Empire of Iuz. Every other one of the captives was eventually sold off never to be seen again or succumbed to the brutal treatment and perished. At first, Alistair had been holding onto his hope for freedom so that he could help the others. As he lost them one by one, his thoughts turned only to hatred and desperation. It kept him alive and eventually proved to be his salvation.

One fateful night, an orcish captain had brought Alistair back to his tent. He had been with them so long and his treatment had been so harsh that the slavers must have assumed he'd been well and truly broken. They let their guard down. The captain was drunk, and Al thought it might be the only chance he'd ever have. Breaking a bottle of ale against a chest, he sliced his own hands wide open grasping the largest shard. He barely felt it. The big orc was far too intoxicated to react quickly and before he could even sound an alarm the lad had gashed his throat wide open. As he fell to the floor Al just kept stabbing and slashing, making absolutely sure of his work.

He was both panicked and exhilarated when he realized what was happening. He wrapped his hand and grabbed anything he could of value on his way out, stealing a horse as he ran. He wanted to stay. He wanted to kill them all. But he was as thin as a rail and sore to the point of collapse. He just ran. For days and days he ran, drinking whatever water he could find and taking risks on certain plants and small animals he didn't recognize. When the horse died, he built a fire and ate what he could. He had to leave most of it behind. When he was close to running out of horse meat, he was found by a nomadic mercenary troupe inside the border of Furyondy. He'd never been so happy to see the faces of other people.

He spent weeks physically recovering. The mental scars ran even deeper. For nearly a year, he flinched away from physical contact of any sort, and a part of him seemed fundamentally carved away. But the mercenaries, for all their gruff exterior, took to the boy and began to almost look at him as a mascot. These men and women were known as the Crimson Orphans. This was Al's second family. He grew to love them just as dearly as his first. He's stayed a loyal member of the group, and formed deep bonds with his fellows. They taught him the blade as he grew and he took to it like a "bird to the air" in their words. Thus, he was given his title. He never uses his family name any longer. It still holds too much pain for him. Near the end of the Greyhawk wars he established himself as a warrior of renown in the countrysides and townships. He risked his own life on many occasions to defend the common folk near the border with the Empire. Many spread outsized rumors of his gallantry and heroism. It was good for business, so he didn't exactly quell the rumors.

Since the end of the wars, the Orphans have mostly disbanded. Things are less profitable for them as a group at the moment. If there was ever a call for another great battle and the money was there, they would likely try to assemble to company again, and Alistair Hawkwind would be first in line. In the meanwhile, he's done well for himself as an adventurer for hire. More jobs seem to be coming from the South these days and he's accordingly been working mostly out of Greyhawk. His reputation as a folk hero of the wars has carried over and he's getting on well in his new home. He's mostly been staying in the Silver Dragon Inn for the last few months with the other mercenaries there. But hardly a night goes by that he isn't wracked by nightmares of being so weak and helpless at the hands of his captors. Of all those children he couldn't save. Or the look on his family's faces as they fell. He doesn't think it will ever stop haunting him.

RP Sample:
The skin on the soles of Alistair Hawkwind's feet must have been nearly gone inside his boots. Making this trek on his own would have come close to killing him. Marching on while carrying another person? Even one so lithe as an elf? He knew if he stopped for even a moment he would not begin moving again. He could have left her behind. As much as it would have pained him for the rest of his days, he'd thought about it. She'd thrown herself at that beast to try and save him from it after all. She could could have run far away using all the magical power at her disposal if she chose. Instead, she tried to cover his escape. It would have made her sacrifice worth nothing at all if he'd died as well. But in the end that was precisely why he couldn't go. She was willing to lay down everything to help him. He couldn't dishonor that and leave her to die.

And after all, she did pay me to protect this expedition. Bang up job, so far.

Why had she protected him, anyway? The woman had been insufferable during this entire mission. Looking down on him. Disregarding his opinions like he was some member of the uninformed rabble. It was infuriating dealing with her. He had come to believe she had brought him along just to have someone to laugh at when he didn't know all the obscure arcane terminology. Her cohorts were little better. He shouldn't think about the dead that way, though.

From what he had been able to gather, they were investigating some sort of dwarven ruin that had stopped communicating with the outside world a decade ago. The bratty dark elf and her companions had been assigned the task of learning what had happened. Well, they had found out. The same way the dwarves did. Their settlement should have been impenetrable. The entrance was far up the cliffside and a precipitous descent into the bowels of the mountain followed where attackers would be harassed at will by defenders. Anyone who made it down to the city proper with an organized force would likely be decimated by the time they reach it. This of course assumes an army on the march.

The tunnel had been scattered with decayed corpses all the way down, and they were immediately put on their guard. Nearly half a day later when they actually reached the city the level of devastation was incredible. What fools they'd all been to assume they were so much more able than the dwarven soldiers. What arrogance they'd held. Arrogance that evaporated quickly in the presence of an adult white dragon starring them down. It must have come down the entranceway seeking to expand its hoard, and it was more than successful. It had wiped out the whole settlement and made its new lair there.

The massive, monstrous creature got the drop on them and killed two of the mages before he could even blink. It was like horror made incarnate. He was trained to fight soldiers and barbarous ruffians. This titanic behemoth was well out of his depth. Seeing its pearly white scales covered in the crimson viscera of his travelling companions nearly forced him to flee right then. He did not want to die leagues under a mountain far away from his brothers and sisters in arms. But Minra and the others lept into action and he followed suit.

Things started out well enough with the mages hurling magics he couldn't comprehend if he'd spent a lifetime reading about them. Without that power being lobbed about he never would have gotten out. The thing that really kept him alive as he continued hacking at the beast was that he had to have been the smallest threat to it. Because it methodically went about ripping apart all the mages, entrails hanging from its maw. Soon enough it was just a battered dragon facing down Alistair and Minra. The monstrosity turned its attention to him. It took all of two strikes for it to nearly do him in. He swatted Al with his tail, which felt like it fractured a bone in his skull and utterly caved in his nose, and then grasped him with its jaws, barely getting ahold of his leg and tossing him across the cavern. His ankle was twisted so hard that he was shocked that it didn't pull all the way around and come off. The beast closed in on him. But Minra, gods bless her, started lobbing everything she had left at it, trying to keep it off of him. It hurt the dragon badly. He could tell. It was perilously close to death. But still utterly lethal. Al limped to his feet with a look of panic at it turning around to attack the dark elf. She met his eyes for a moment and shouted at him:

"Just run! I'll hold it off!"

In the split second he was making a decision on that order the hulking luminous form took one of its great scaled talons down at her, throwing her against a rock and knocking her unconscious. She was horribly wounded. The dragon in its haste to be done with the greater threat seemed willing to forget about him for the time being. The little man with the pointy metal stick. It wanted to finish off the mage who had harmed it so.

Alistair charged. Stupidly and bravely, he charged. Like any bully, this dragon assumed that once you hurt someone badly enough they cower and slink away. But it had never met Alistair Hawkwind: The Bleeding Idiot. He lept for its neck and found home. Somehow remarkably, and by a random twist of fate, the creature flailed so badly that it missed him miserably and swung about trying to end him. He cut again and again, and finally the majestic horror before him fell to the dwarven stonework, dead. He couldn't pretend to have done more than a sliver of harm to it. Just enough to put it over the edge. If anyone deserved the credit it was the nearly broken woman at his feet.

He stabilized Minra and strapped her to his back. He wasn't exactly a powerful man, and it made the going nearly impossible on his twisted ankle. Every step was agony. And the trip was well over a full day when healthy and loaded up with supplies and aid in getting up the more treacherous parts of the climb. It had taken him four days to begin nearing the basecamp on his return. Minra had barely stirred in that time. He had kept talking to her throughout. He felt like he would need something to keep going in her shoes. Of course his own shoes filled with blood from all the times he had slipped and fallen on blistered feet during the climb down, and maybe reinjured her in the process, so what did he know? Still, he tried to speak to her to keep her focused on something. They were getting so close.

"You see that down there...you sadistic little knife-ear? Ugh.. that's basecamp down there. That means...that means you're gonna live...to harrass me another day, doesn't it? Hhppphhh...you think you could afford to...lay off all the magic pastries next time? You're...quite a load. Just...just...ah!...stay with me, Minra. We're almost there. Please...stay alive for me. I don't...want to lose another one...please..."
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Old 03-11-2019, 04:11 PM
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Name: Silanea Wrynridge

Gender/Race: Female/Drow

Class: Wizard/Evocation

Personality Traits: I use polysyllabic words that convey the impression of great erudition.

Ideal: There is no such thing as Evil Knowledge. All knowledge can be used to benefit sentient beings in some way.

Bond: My life's work is a series of tomes related to Evocation.

Flaw: Easily Distracted by the promise of information.

Background: Sage: Librarian

Appearance: A lovely dress that emphasizes her beautiful dark skin. Her purple eyes shine with intelligence. Her whitish blonde hair speaks to a heritage that comes from a high elf parent somewhere along the line. Her delicate glasses perfectly frame her face, show off her purple eyes, and are often fiddled with by her delicate and perfectly manicured fingers.

Personality: Silanea indulges in the pleasures of the world around her, but at the same time she tends towards the more expensive pleasures. She often comes off as haughty and erudite looking down on others who are lesser than she is. In addition she has few cares as to the morality or immorality of a situation beyond whether or not it is illegal or illogical.

Backstory: Silanea was once a top student and then teacher at Sorcere in a Drow City. She was never interested in the politics and backstabbing of the place, just the knowledge within the books. The Library was her go to place to be alone and avoid the dark plots of other members of Sorcere. This worked for quite a number of years until she became a source of knowledge that most young students would come to. She was a powerful mage without any alliances or favor and suddenly numerous factions wanted to see her dead.

She had enough of slaying her kin again and again as time went on and finally just decided to up and leave. She made her way to the surface and the city of Greyhawk. It was there that she once again immersed herself in the library learning under Minra Zaughym and working as something of an assistant. Often doing things that Minra needed done outside the library. She has worked with a vast number of adventuring groups often offering her services without any favor or care as to faction, alignment, or purpose. All she ever cared about was advancing her own knowledge and the needs of the Library. Thus it was quite often that she found herself outside the library and in the thick of adventuring life.

RP Sample: Her beautiful gown swishes along as she elegantly enters the room. Spying Minra she gives her a small bow to indicate that Minra is of higher status than she is. There are few people in the world that she grants such an honor to, but Minra is one of them. The Zaughym heir took Silanea in when she exited her lands years ago and has been a font of wisdom and knowledge ever since. The niceties of the greeting done Silanea comes directly to the point. "Minra what a truly unfortunate turn of events that brings us here. You mentioned in your letter this string of mysterious deaths and, of course, the fact that there are currently no motives and no suspects. Clearly you have requested my assistance to help you track down more information as best as I might be able. With that evidence in hand I have concluded that you must have information about these crimes that you wish to share with me."

She pauses and fixes her glasses a moment before giving Minra a nod and saying, "I am, of course, always ready to assist you with anything you may require. Please proceed to elucidate further so that I may cease some portion of my ignorance and begin my service to you forthwith."

Last edited by Ysolde; 03-11-2019 at 04:11 PM.
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Old 03-11-2019, 04:49 PM
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There are some amazing apps shaping up already, thank you all .

Tears of Tomorrow, I’ve pm’d you some details on noble families you can use.
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Old 03-11-2019, 05:45 PM
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Dim of the Many Faces
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If cats are keepers of the underworld what does that make me?

Name: Dim of the Many Faces

Gender/Race: Female/Tabaxi

Class: Rogue (Arcane Trickster) 7/Tempest Cleric 2

Personality Traits: I'm always polite and respectful.

I purr loudly when I'm happy. Tabaxi quirk.

Ideal: Independence. When people follow orders blindly, they embrace a kind of tyranny. (Chaotic)

Bond: Mysteries don't sit well with me. I need to unravel them all, like a ball of twine.

Flaw: I can be ornery and standoffish and condescending for no apparent reason.

Background: City Watch /Investigator variant - undercover/

Appearance: Much of Dim's body is almost constantly obscured by her cloak. The black feathered garment is an homage to her patron. As the Tabaxi rarely sees fit to offer any homage to the Queen during their interactions. But should you manage to observer her without the cloak you will see a graceful, lithe feline figure. Her pelt is almost all the nuances out there of brown in no apparent patterns. Just freely flowing from one shade into another. She has piercing, blue eyes that seem like they can penetrate your soul. A raven head earring dangles from her right ear. Another indication as to who Dim's patron is.

Personality: It is not an easy task describing the personality of a cat-person. This is very true of Dim as well. Often times she is true to her Tabaxi nature. But for the most part she is a polite and respectful individual. Even though it may come through more as aloof and standoffish at times. She is never deliberately rude or cross. It is just that some times she has no patience for niceties. Dim is very smart and knowledgeable, but also very inquisitive and curious individual. It is this part of her character that lead her down the investigator's life path. She loves a good mystery and pitting her wits against it.

Her interpersonal relationships are varied. Though one thing is constant. She is slow to open up to people. It is an achievement in and of itself to get to know her very well. And those few individuals can call themselves truly fortunate as she is a fierce, loyal friend. Unwavering in her devotion to those closest to her. It is those select individuals that get to see more facets to her personality, rather than the polite, aloof respectful individual the majority of people interact with.

Backstory: The consummate traveler, Dim was exploring the world before she knew better than to leave the safety of her clan's village. She quickly learned to rely on her feline talents of natural grace and dexterity. Her inquisitive nature also drove her to unravel mysteries wherever she would find them. And if there were none, she would go on the hunt for them. Before long she'd made a name for herself as a skilled investigator and cities, large and small, began seeking her services.

She enjoyed the profession. Not so much because she stood behind any ideal of justice and law, but simply because she enjoyed pitting her wits against the next mystery. But still, helping people wasn't an unpleasant bonus.

It was while working undercover on a case that her life changed drastically one fateful day. Made as a double agent by the criminal group she was investigating, Dim was captured, tortured and ultimately left to die in the wilderness. And death did come for her. But not to take her. No. To offer her a job. Be her enforcer. Ensure that all things meet their natural end. For Death is final and inescapable. And those who seek to cheat fate must be punished without hesitation.

Thus, her life now bound to the Raven Queen, Dim travels the world and seeks to unravel the mysteries behind all who try to cheat the Queen of her due.

 
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Last edited by ihinka; 03-15-2019 at 12:41 AM.
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Old 03-11-2019, 05:56 PM
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Dwarf incoming!

Thank you , sir! May I have another?
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Name: Tygrum
Race: Mountain Dwarf
Class: Barbarian (Path of the Zealot)
Personality Traits:
- I see omens in every event and action. The gods try to speak to us, we just need to listen
- I idolize a particular hero of my faith (Firgladin), and constantly refer to that person's deeds and example.
Ideal: Tradition. The ancient traditions of worship and sacrifice must be preserved and upheld.
Bond: I would die to recover an ancient relic of my faith that was lost long ago.
Flaw: My piety sometimes leads me to blindly trust those that profess faith in my god.
Background: Acolyte
Appearance: Tygrum looks like he was rode hard and put away wet. He is on the tall side, just at 5' and heavy set with dense muscle. His red hair reminds one of a forest in Autumn and is kept out of his face with a simple leather tie. Like many dwarves, Tygrum values his beard, keeping it braided and out of the way with plain metal rings that keep it weighed down. His weapons (axes, lots of them) and armor (half plate and shield) are similarly unadorned and are meant for the sole purpose they were designed for, to inflict pain and protect from the same. The only things that seem to be of any real value on him are the silver crossed axes of his holy symbol and a silver helm he wears into battle. Both were gifts from his home and there is little he holds more dear. His body holds numerous scars and he has lost a thumb on one hand and one of his ears as well to battle. The ear bothers him the most and, when not under his helm, he rubs the scarred hole compulsively.
Personality: Tygrum is a holy man first and a warrior second. He feels an unfathomable pride in having chosen Clangeddin Silverbeard as his patron before his patron chose him to be his Oerthly instrument. He is not a priest, but his faith is no less unshakable. He is not a big drinker or eater. He tends to take people at their word and doesn't get or use sarcasm. This tends to put him as the but of many jokes, but he doesn't seem to notice or take offense if he does. He's serious most times unless talking about his role model, Firgladin, a famous (in his circles) Zealot of Clangeddin. When he gets to talk about his faith and his hero, the years and pains seem to drop from his face and you might swear you were talking to a youth.
Backstory: I am Tygrum, and this is my fifth life to give to The Father of Battle. {More to come!}
RP Sample:
 



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Last edited by UngainlyFool; 03-20-2019 at 09:33 PM.
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Old 03-11-2019, 06:42 PM
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Zevlina DrasskName: Zevlina Drassk
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Gender/Race: Female/ Half-Drow
Class: Monk (Shadow)/ Rogue Assassin (levels TBD)
Background: Bounty Hunter
Personality Traits:I am incredibly slow to trust. Those who seem the fairest often have the most to hide.
Ideal:Redemption. There's a spark of good in everyone. (Good)
Bond:I owe a debt I can never repay to the person who took pity on me.
Flaw:I too often hear veiled insults and threats in every word addressed to me, and I'm quick to anger.
Appearance/Personality: Zevlina commands attention when she sweeps into a room. Her Half-Drow heritage is plain to see as she makes no attempt to hide it. She has dusky skin, lighter than a full blood Dark Elf, but certainly darker than her sun worshipping kin. Her striking blue eyes are framed by the full mantle of stark white hair that falls down her shoulders to the small of her back. She is very well attired and it is obvious that she takes great pride in her appearance. In many respects she comes across as quite pleasant and even friendly. This is a ruse, as fools are disabused of this notion quickly, severely and usually quite permanently. Zevlina suffers no fools and she has inherited the drow proclivity for pain and pleasure in equal amounts.

 

 


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Last edited by Begon Ugo; 03-14-2019 at 06:47 PM.
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Old 03-11-2019, 09:20 PM
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Ysolde, haven't seen you in awhile, hope all is well.
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Leaning against the wall, watching the others rush by him, he grins. "Go ahead, go get that treasure that's laying there. Be more for me after you die."
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