[D&D-5e] The Closing Calamity in the Crags

[Azathool]

“Azathool’s Application” Name: SlabRPGX Sheet, D&DB Sheet Race: Size: Medium | Variable Trait: Darkvision | Feat: Magic Initiate; Druid; Shillelagh, Magic Stone, GoodberryCustom Lineage Class: Cleric | Life Abilities: 15 | 8 | 14 | 10 | 15 (+2) | 827 point buy Free Feat: +1 WISTelekinetic Background: Outlander (Feature: You have an excellent memory for maps and geography, and you can always recall the general layout of terrain, settlements, and other features around you. In addition, you can find food and fresh water for yourself and up to five other people each day, provided that the land offers berries, small game, water, and so forth.Wanderer) Tash’sSkill Swaps: Musical Instrument for Tool: Herbalism Kit | (Optional swap ask; 2x Languages for Tool: Woodcarvers Tools) Common Item: Cast-off Armor, Plate (Re-skinned to be non-magical Ironwood for thematics.) Personality Trait 1: I am utterly serene, even in the face of disaster. Personality Trait 2: I often get lost in my own thoughts and contemplation, becoming oblivious to my surroundings. Ideal: Balanced in Life and Nature. The living natural world is more important than all the constructs of civilization. (Neutral) Bond: I will bring terrible wrath down on all undead without mercy as they are the antithesis of life. Flaw: The niceties of civilization are meaningless, and sometimes a rat’s life is more precious than a nobles. Starting Equipment/Taking gold since I don’t need starting armour, weapons, food etc.Gold: (5d4 x 10)+10 = 135 gp. Purchases; Bedroll, Clothes, Club, Shield, Waterskin, 3xPouches, 3xCandle, Tinderbox, Woodcarvers Tools, Healers Kit, Herbalism Kit23.3.3 gold Optional Purchase: 2x Potions of Healing100 gold Description Standing at seven feet and weighing in at 250 pounds some mistake Slab for a moving tree, covered in thick heavy bark, vines and woody material. An imposing sight, Slab’s huge bulk moves with a ponderous gait covered in his organic armor, with no possibility of subtlety or stealth. A stout wooden club and several pouches hang from his belt and on his arm is strapped a wooden shield engraved with a An ancient Symbol of Mielikkisymbol of an oak leaf upon which sits a tiny star. A worn bedroll is slung over his shoulder, else he has and needs few belongings. With little fear of close combat, Slab imbues his club with magic to strike with prodigious force or pulls out a tiny pebble from his pouch which with a flick of his wrist can kill a man at 20 yards. He is ponderous but wise in thought, and is utterly serene even in the face is death, as he knows that life is the balance. He is not the most talkative of people and has the charm of tree, with little respect for civilization or manners, but the utmost reverence for life. Art: Created with DALL-E 3 “Background” In the rugged Northern Wilds of Faerun, near Olostin's Hold on the edge of the High Forest, Slab's epic journey began in the most humble of origins. Born as the son of a modest woodcutter, it seemed he was destined to follow in his father's footsteps, given his remarkable size and strength. However, fate had different plans as the looming threat of The Undead abruptly altered his lifes course. Rescued by his grandmother during his childhood, she took on the role of his mentor, saving him from the undead horrors that had befallen his family and village. Under the guidance of ancient teachings from Mielikki, the goddess of the forest, Slab embarked on a transformative path under the watchful eye of the old hedge druid. Through her wisdom, he unearthed the hidden secrets of Life itself, mastering the art of harnessing magic for both defense and offense, and possessing the unique ability to restore life to the injured. A decade passed in seclusion, during which Slab's physical prowess and wisdom grew, but his connection to the outside world remained limited. He cared for his grandmother in her final years, and upon her peaceful passing, she bequeathed him two precious gifts: a remarkable suit of ironwood armor from his father and the freedom to pursue his own destiny. With the memories of his old life fading, Slab set his sights on Waterdeep, the grandest city in all of Faerun to find meaning, as where there was most Life present there would be the most need of help. With his extraordinary combat skills and life-affirming touch, Slab holds hope that he'll find kindred spirits to join on his journey.   Slab’s Character Sheet AC: 20 HP: 17 (of 17) Spell save DC: 14 Status: No effects Channel Divinity: 1 (of 1; Short Rest) [Turn Undead, Preserve Life, Harness Divine Power] Harness Divine Power: 1 (of 1; Long Rest, uses Channel Divinity) 1:Goodberry: 0 (of 1; Long Rest) (Assume always cast at start of day) Goodberries: 10 (of 10) Spell Slots: 3 x1st (of 3; Long Rest)

[psuedenim]

Suds App Name: Raiy Fin'Nite Race: Half-Elf Drow (SCAG) Class: Fighter/Warlock (Genie) Background: Urchin Feat: Sharpshooter Description: The silvery white hair is Raiy's most notable feature from a distance and marks him a little different to any other Half-Elf as everything else is just average for those. Weight, Height nothing remarkable and Raiy has leant more into the general Elf heritage for good reason because as you get closer the key difference becomes readily apparent. The darker skin tone is harder to hide and even harder to explain and whilst the prejudice is understandable its not looked for. On the upside its been a great filter as its very obvious that those that are left and willing to talk will be either a candidate for a good friend or definitely want to use him. Raiys is fine with either and better to have a few well trusted friends than a larger group of fair weather folk, and anyone that wants to use his considerable talents has to pay - even Half-Elf Drows need to eat and keep the candles lit and nothing is free in this city. Trait 1: I grew up in the big city and consider myself very street savvy. I talk fast, walk fast, and no-one gets the better of me. Trait 2: Believes Whiskers is the manifestation of his Patron Ideal: Working to complete a map of the Cities darker side partially to help those trapped on the streets, partially for profit Bonds: Whiskers + other player(s) that were nice to a street urchin. Flaw: A distrust of cats and anyone with pet cats. They're all out to get Whiskers and me. Common Magic item: Masquerade Tattoo Backstory: His mother rescued from a Drow raiding party, living as a refugee in the city, has forced Raiy to grow up quickly and learn its ways and how to survive here. His heritage has been a cause of trouble but efforts by both his mother and himself have made that more manageable. A lot of scrimping and saving has provided him a tattoo that allows magical manipulation of his appearance and when necessary he can use other tricks to lessen his Drowness. Its not all bad, he's more at home in the dark and this has led to some interesting work opportunities that have been more lucrative than the usual day to day work as a guard or guide for hire. The night money has certainly grown quicker than the day money and his ability to disguise himself has allowed him the chance to work with some of the more widespread gangs where a tattoo or mark or membership is more trustworthy than a name sometimes. Regular lectures from his mother have kept him from fully embracing his night work and his attempts to work on his 'Night guide' and carry on being a freelancer are not panning out as expected. Seems not offering 100% loyalty is frowned upon these days and other night workers are surprisingly unwilling to share their secret routes and knowledge. This hasn't stopped Raiys from trying, a few discrete shadowings and figuring out some gangs marks have been useful but money is getting harder to find, his mother is getting older and will need more support and Raiys finds himself needing to rely on others and there are only a small number of people he considers friends and smaller number he might trust. Luckily he has his pet mouse Whiskers who has a good nose for sniffing out the bad-uns and cats are at the top of the list. Not really built for the up close and tough stuff he has a gained a small reputation as a solid backup with a bow and magic - in a city such as Waterdeep a flair for magic is almost a necessity for most job interviews these days.

[Oakie]

Application Name: Rochart "Roach" Beeman Class: Monk (Drunken Master @ 3rd) Race: Half-Elf Appearance: Skinny, short half-elf male (5'3", 125 lb) ; late teens (17); gray-blonde hair and violet eyes, pale ivory skin. He's wearing commoner's clothes that look new yet already disheveled and dirty, as if slept in. He has a mischievous and sodden look about him. While he often has a drink in hand, he's nearly always smoking a long, ornate pipe (that he also fights with!). Mechanical Background: Urchin Personality Traits: – I eat like a pig, drink like a fish, and have bad manners. – I bluntly say what other people are hinting at or hiding. Ideal: Aspiration. I'm going to prove that I'm worthy of a better life. Bond: I owe my skills to Brother Morven, who taught me to fight, husband bees, and make mead! Flaw: Spirits, ale, and wine, oh my!     "Roll'im," said Skippy to Roach, pointing to the plump, drunken priest snoring on his back in the South Ward alley. Roach nodded to Skippy, boss of the Basket Street Boys, a vassal kids' gang of The Minotaurs. He started tip-toeing his way over to the priest. Squatting, knife in hand, he reached toward the priest's purse strings, ready to cut, snatch, and run. But just as he was about to cut the strings, the priest rolled away from him, the purse swinging out of reach, and the man's rear end in Roach's face, trumpeting a foul wind. Swallowing a gag, Roach tip-toed around to the priest's other side to try again. As he was about to try a second cut, the priest pulled his ale jug up for a sip, his bent elbow gently pressing the back of Roach's knee and pushing him to his knees. That was enough for Skippy and the rest. They rushed to Roach's aid. As they came, the priest – eyes still closed! – somehow rolled onto his feet, body curled and buttward, knocking over Skippy and another boy like a bowling ball knocking over pins! Standing up, stretching his arms, and swinging them around (one still holding the ale jug), he clotheslined the last two boys, flipping them onto their backs. Then the priest opened his eyes, looked at all five boys on the ground, said, "Humph!," and sauntered off on his way! By this time, a late night crowd was starting to gather. Skippy stood and said, "Let's get outta here." Everyone except Roach followed. He followed the priest. Roach had the feeling that the priest knew he was following but didn't try to evade. After some time walking through twisting streets and alleys, Roach found himself outside his territory in Dock Ward and following the priest into Ilmater's Safe Harbor, a soup kitchen and free clinic for the poor. Once they stepped inside, the priest suddenly turned to Roach, their noses practically touching, and said, "Boy, if you're hungry, get a bowl and bun. I am. Need to sober up!" That was more than two years ago, that night Roach started following Brother Morven around. He'd never asked the priest to teach him anything, exactly. And Brother Morven never offered nor gave the young man any orders, nor even tried to evangelize him into the worship of Ilmater. The mentorship just kind of evolved naturally. At first, Roach started following Brother Morven in the day, when the Basket Street Boys weren't up to hijinks. That's how he learned that Brother Morven is a beekeeper for the Temple of Ilmater, with skeps on rooftops all over Waterdeep. By watching him and later helping, that's how he learned the craft himself – including the making of mead, beeswax candles, and all sorts of bee-related crafts. Similarly, he spied Brother Morven in private doing strange physical exercises and dances, and he started imitating him. Over time and often without a word, Brother Morven demonstrated trickier and more rigorous maneuvers. Sometimes he tested the boy's growing fighting skills, often without a warning by throwing things at him or "accidentally" bumping into Roach or tripping him. Over those two-plus years, Roach started spending more time with Brother Morven and less time with the Basket Street Boys. It caused a rift. The boys got caught in a sting by the Waterdeep City Guard when Roach was off with Brother Morven. (The captured boys got off with light work sentences.) But Skippy smelled a rat. It wasn't long after when Skippy and five of the biggest boys surrounded Roach in an alley. "You've been hanging around that priest so long you went straight. You set us up to the Guard," said Skippy. Alarmed, Roach said, "No, I ain't no rat!" "Liar!" screamed the other boys, pulling cudgels and jumping Roach. A strange thing happened, though: Roach kicked their butts! All by himself! Unarmed! Swaying like a drunkard, he bobbed and weaved and blocked and kicked. He tripped and tricked them, slapped and slung them around. No one got killed, thank Ilmater, but none of the other boys felt like trying to stand again for a long minute. "I guess I'm out," said Roach, "But I say again, I ain't no rat!" Roach walked away, tall as he could rise, proud and stunned at his own prowess. He went looking for Brother Morven and told him what happened. "Well, I guess you'll be looking for a new line," said Brother Morven. "Ever consider the priesthood? You could do a lotta good. Or maybe beekeeping full time? Opportunities outside the city walls." "Nah," said Roach, "Think I'll go adventuring. Maybe take my chance at Undermountain treasure. I'd like to try some fine living, for once." "I hear ya," said Brother Morven. "Do as you think best." If he was disappointed, he didn't show it, not one bit.

[Greyling]

Enjoying the possible recruits.

Psuedenim, not sure your sheet is set to public.

[psuedenim]

@Greyling - it is now, should be done too. Just trying the opposite of what normally occurs where the concept is written and the sheet follows - sheet first then concept, sounded easy initially.

[Greyling]

@Psuedenim, visible now. Good luck to everyone that has or will apply.

[JohnStone]

The original Game was meant for somewhat morally grey characters. is that still the case?

[Drachenspirit]

Originally Posted by JohnStone

The original Game was meant for somewhat morally grey characters. is that still the case?

That's certainly the case, but everyone is free to create/submit any character. Note that this is an urban game/campaign.

[Azathool]

Morality is in the eye of the beholder. In the modern world a doctor would always save the human life, but in a world of fantasy?

‘Slab the Life Cleric decides - NG alignment” Slab looks as the disaster, the fallen roof having crushed people and animals, most escaping with minor wounds, but two were critical. The lords son lay gasping on his last legs, and the horse was seconds from it’s final breath. Reaching out with magic the horses’s wounds healed, it’s life saved, but the young man gasped his last. <Was it “Good” to let the nasty cruel young human expire from his own folly? Or save their last horse, the pregnant mare? When all Life was precious the balance had to be considered, and Slab had decided.>

[Drachenspirit]

No new applicants in a few days. If this keeps up, maybe I'll move the deadline up if I have the RL bandwidth.

Applicants so far are:

Applications

Player	Character	Race	Class	Status
EMIW	Meliamne	Half-elf	Paladin	Completed
Azathool	Slab	Custom Lineage	Cleric Life Domain	Completed
psuedenim	Raiy Fin'Nite	Drow	Fighter/Warlock (Genie)	Completed
Oakie	Rochart "Roach" Beeman	Half-elf	Monk	Completed
leftyyy88	Grusk Daglar	Half-orc	Barbarian	Completed

[Drachenspirit]

With no new applications coming in since the 17th, I've moved the deadline up to tonight at midnight CST.

[leftyyy88]

Lefty's App Last minute app, woohoo! Name: Grusk Daglar Class: Barbarian - Path of the Beast at level 3 Race: Half-orc Character Sheet: Grusk Daglar (stats rolled here: Stats!) Appearance: Grusk never did like the trappings of high society. Frilly clothes and intricate hairstyles were just the distractions of the rich. Grusk kept his hair and beard somewhat short. But that was just to keep it out of his work. Half the time, the flying cinders and sparks from his blacksmithing kept it short for him. He'd worked his anvil long enough to get a touch of white in his hair, and a bit of a slump in his shoulders. But his spirit was as strong as the coals in the forge. The coals may smolder now, but if you stir them up, you're gonna have trouble. 5e Background: Folk Hero Thinking is for other people. I prefer action. I judge people by their actions, not their words. Gangs must not be allowed to oppress the people. My tools are symbols of my past life, and I carry them so that I will never forget my roots. The woman I saved knows my shameful secret. Backstory: Grusk gripped the tongs tightly as he pulled the shovel head out of the furnace. He liked making tools. Tools didn't break things. Tools didn't hurt people. Well, not usually. His other hand lightly brushed the hammer hanging at his belt as he transferred the shovel head to the anvil for the finishing touches. As the hammer rang and shaped the metal beneath it, Grusk let his mind wander. It had been three years since that night in the alley. Or had it been four? Time was not kind to the blacksmith's memories, but he shrugged it off and kept working. That night had been the defining moment in the half-orc's life. He'd grown up in the city and found work as a blacksmith's apprentice, and gone on to open his own shop years later. Life had been slow but fulfilling, and as his hair changed from black to white he figured this was all life had for him. He figured he'd take on an apprentice one day and pass his trade along before he died. But that night changed everything. He had been closing up his shop one night when he heard a commotion in the alley. When he investigated, he found a mother and child cornered by three street toughs. He knew their ilk immediately. Their gang had taken up residence in the city district where Grusk ran his shop. He had had few run-ins with the gang, himself: one look at the blacksmith's rippling muscles made any would-be thieves think differently. But this woman and child were much easier targets. "What's going on here?" The attackers flinched and turned slowly, expecting the town guard. But when they saw the old white-haired blacksmith, they laughed. "Hey, it's grandpa come to make us go to bed early. Go home old man, this ain't your fight." Grusk's hands curled into fists, but he kept his temper in check. "You boys need to go on home before you do something you regret." One of the gang members, perhaps the leader, stepped towards Grusk menacingly. "Yeah? And who's going to make me regret it? You? You're all talk, ya old geezer." He shoved Grusk back toward the entrance of the alley, and that was the last thing the blacksmith remembered. When he came to, he was standing in the alley with three bodies at his feet. His hammer was in his fist and blood stained the tool and his arms up to the elbows. "What... What happened?" The woman cowered in the corner of the alley sobbing, her child cradled in her arms. "You killed them. You killed them and just kept hitting them. You just kept hitting and hitting and..." "Go home," the half-orc growled. He watched her go then turned to look at the mess at his feet. The bodies, if you could call them that, bore no resemblance to the ruffians who were in the alley earlier. There was no face, on any of them, just a pink pulpy mass of flesh. His eyes darted to the alley entrance and he knew what he had to do. Now, three years later, he still smelled the tang of burnt bones whenever he lit his forge in the mornings. Those three bodies had disappeared that night, and the forge had burned black. He had seen the woman in the market a few times since then, but she would never make eye contact with him. He thought she would be grateful. But he was no noble savior, and he asked for no praise. He finished the shovel he was working on and held it up to the light. Tools didn't hurt people. Grusk hurt people.

[Drachenspirit]

Application window closed - DM reviewing. Accepted players/characters TBD.

Applications in consideration are:

Player	Character	Race	Class
EMIW	Meliamne	Half-elf	Paladin
Azathool	Slab	Custom Lineage	Cleric Life Domain
psuedenim	Raiy Fin'Nite	Drow	Fighter/Warlock (Genie)
Oakie	Rochart "Roach" Beeman	Half-elf	Monk
leftyyy88	Grusk Daglar	Half-orc	Barbarian

[Drachenspirit]

After some serious thought and consideration for all applications, the following are invited to join the game.
If you weren't chosen, thanks again for your time and effort on your apps.

• EMIW's Half-elven Paladin, Meliamne &
• psuedenim's Drow Fighter/Warlock, Raiy Fin'Nite

For the two of you, head on over to the game's OOC thread and say hello here - >> https://www.rpgcrossing.com/showthre...223421&page=43

Then copy over your apps and link to Character sheet in the Character Thread here --->>> https://www.rpgcrossing.com/showthread.php?t=223432

[Oakie]

Congrats!