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  #1  
Old 11-20-2017, 03:00 AM
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Hired Guns, Sell Swords and Living Weapons

Please post a link to your completed character sheet and copy your applications over here before the 1st of December if possible, if not let me know in OOC.

Write a little bit about your character's relationship based on the table in the dice thread. Feel free to work it out in the OOC.
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Old 11-26-2017, 07:16 AM
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Old 11-26-2017, 10:31 AM
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Character Name: Jozin Karadon
Race: Chelaxian Human
Gender: Male
Class: Many (Swordsman)
Alignment: Lawful Good
Traits: Propitiation, Born under the Stranger
Appearance: Jozin's chelaxion complexion remains untanned despite his years in the Mana Wastes. Short jet hair frame a face and pale gray eyes that can shift from kind and gentle to fierce in a heartbeat. Favoring loose clothes with varied colors and possessing a controlled grace in his gait, were it not for the easy way he carries his blade he could be mistaken for a dancer.


Personality: Jozin smiles often and laughs easily among friends, though he rarely seems completely at ease. Though friendly Jozin doesn't like being touched, and outside of a fight avoids close proximity and physical contact with others. It seems to be a point of some embarrassment to him, and he is apologetic, but he maintains his distance nonetheless.

Jozin follows the tenets of Iomedae, Lady of Valor. He has an old fashioned code of conduct that he holds himself to fervently, at the root of which are his ideals of seeing justice upheld through law and putting the lives of innocents above his own.

What question would your character ask Yanda, survivor of Be'gadeen?:
"How long did you explore Be'gadeen, and does that match how long you seemed to be gone to others?"

Character History: Though generally forthcoming about most other topics, Jozin never speaks of why he came to Alkenstar. If pressed he admits to once being a Knight of Ozem and simply states that he feels he can do more good here than elsewhere. While not yet well known in the region he has started to make a name for himself patrolling the border towns where the Shield Marshals are sometimes too slow or stretched to respond. He has worked with the Shield Marshals in the past when their paths cross, but despite offers has refused to join them.

Despite his warm demeanor and dedication to protecting the people of Alkenstar he seems ill at ease among them, and rarely spends much time in one location.


Last edited by AximusLokar; 11-26-2017 at 01:07 PM.
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Old 11-26-2017, 01:52 PM
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Character Name: Andrelaia "Andri" Foxleaf
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Class: Magus (Kensai)
Alignment: Neutral Evil
Traits: Whenever you make an attack that reduces a foe to 0 hit points or fewer or you confirm a critical hit, your attack deals 1 additional point of damage. The additional damage is a trait bonus, and is multiplied by your weapon’s critical hit multiplier.Bloodthirsty, You gain a +1 trait bonus on Survival checks, and Survival is always a class skill for you.Orphaned

Appearance:Andri is short for a human, but her body is obviously well-trained and lean. Dark blue eyes sit in a lightly tanned face framed by a mass of unruly brown hair usually tamed and tied to a pony tail. The young woman is reasonably pretty, but there is a hard edge to her stance which tends to keep sensible people away from her, even if they have not yet heard her of her reputation.

While she wears sensible clothing but little armour, her rhoka blade is a constant companion. It is an uncommon weapon usually not associated with humans, showing a wicked serrated edge on the left of its twin blades, but Andri wields it with great skill and dedication.

She is left handed.


Personality
Andri lives by a simple codex: her own life is the most precious good she owns, a job will always be completed if possible, and solid reputation will bring solid gold. She has no qualms working as a mercenary or an enforcer, bullying and intimidating, or slaughtering her way through her opposition to get the mission done.

The young woman is selfish but smart. She realizes her reputation is her capital, and unless she is absolutely certain she can get away with it, Andri will not cut corners to do things only halfway. She is known to be reliable.

Andri is usually easy-going and somewhat adventurous, though full of snark. She enjoys getting under others' skins, especially if she has taken a dislike to them. The kensai is professional enough to work with those she dislikes, and even enjoys the challenge.

Her primary motivation for all the things she does is money, though she is smart enough to believe in investing goodwill to reap a greater profit.


Character History
The young magus is barely 25 years old and a true city kid. She grew up in the slums of Alkenstar, stealing if she could, begging if she had to. Her innate magical abilities showed at a very early age, leaving her shunned and the victim of other kids stronger than her.

Swearing an oath to never be the victim again, she trained in the dark alleys on her own, hiding from others, fighting imaginary monsters on her own. Andri trained with a wooden sword of her own making, little more than a plank. But once her first assailant lay bleeding in front of her, her path was clear.

Training both with blade and her magical abilities, she gladly paid the price of blood at first, before realizing it did not have to be her own blood. Ruthlessness and Andri's street smarts led her to be recognized by local gangs, and her natural skill with the blade earned her the respect, a modicum of wealth, and most importantly, the start of her reputation as a problem-solver.

A few years later, she worked as a bodyguard for a local merchant with several enemies thanks to his unsavoury business practices. He paid well though, and she prevented two robberies and three attempts at assassination before an unknown enemy sent a powerful quasi-demon wielding an unusual sword. Who this enemy was, or what the merchant had done to summon the ire of such a well-connected opponent, Andri never found out, and also did not care. The merchant she was supposed to protect was slain, as was the urdefhan sent after him. Andri kept the sword, and liberated a share of her dead employer before reporting the incident to the guard and let them handle it.

She first kept the sword as a reminder of her failure, but the young magus quickly noticed that the blade's unusual and cruel wickedness spoke to her. Since then, it is her most precious possession. While she had it enchanted a while ago, it is still the same blade which drank the merchant's blood.


Andri's Contract
"You... you mean they're all... they're all dead?", the old man in front of her asks, disbelief warring with disgust in his voice and his eyes. The young magus shrugs and throws a tied leather bag on the table between them. The tavern is noisy, though there was a space around them. People here know of Andri and give her a wide berth when she is with a client. The bartender and the kensai have an understanding that is mutually profitable.

"They didn't want to hand it over. If it helps your conscience, I tried to bribe them first", Andri adds with a poorly hidden sneer. Then she shrugs again. "They decided to fight instead. Their mistake." She musters the man in front of her. She doesn't know what the leather bag contains, or why it was hidden in an unnamed temple several days south of Alkenstar. She doesn't even know why there was a temple down here anyway, as the Gods had forsaken this place for a long, long time now. Just the way Andri likes it.

"You... could have lied to me", the old man complains, clutching the leather bag tightly to his chest.

"I don't lie, as a rule", Andri states. "It creates too many complications down the road. Let's be done with this. Give me the coin we agreed upon, and you can rest assured their blood is on my blade, not yours." She gives the man a winning smile. Getting paid always manages to lift her mood.

The man hesitates. His eyes flicker to Andri's youthful face framed by the mass of her brown hair, and he visibly calculates his chances of getting away with not paying. The blood paid to buy him his prize obviously bothers him.

Andri sees the calculating look in his eyes, and her smile broadens. She waits patiently to see what he decides, happy to accept either outcome. The thought of the chase tickles her, and her client sees this. Grudgingly, he pulls out a much smaller pouch than the one she gave him, and pushes it towards her. She grabs it, feels its weight and pockets it with a grin. "Pleasure doing business with you. Let me invite you for a drink?" Andri is feeling generous. This mission will cover this month's rent, and if he skimmed on her, she'll simply track him down and make him pay double.

The old man snorts, and stands up to leave without another word, clearly eager to be away from her. As he turns to leave, the tavern quietens. Not because of him though, but because of the official guardsman entering. This is not a place for guardsmen to show up unannounced. The old man rushes to leave, bumping the guard with his shoulder in his haste, as several of the locals reach for blades both hidden and visible.

Andri leans back, her shoes on the table in front of her. She has a feeling this is going to be interesting.

Her instincts prove her right as the guardsman coughs and then seeks her out. "Andrelaia Foxleaf, I presume?", he asks, radiating nervousness but keeping his hands away from his weapons.

"Most likely. What's it to you, officer?", she asks with a grin and a cocked eyebrow while her mind races for a reason he could be approaching her. Andri is fairly certain she has not committed any crime the shield marshalls would take offense to.

He clears his throat again. "Your reputation has reached certain ears. The shield marshalls would like to speak with you. They wish to hire you."


The one question to Yanda
There is no pity in Andri's eyes as she approaches the sick woman. She's been clearly a fool, unprepared for the ruins she encountered. Not wishing to repeat her mistake, Andri asks after some consideration: "Tell me about any runes, sigils or images you found inside the temple, specifically its entrance."


A messy situation
The dungeon is cold, and wet, and grim. Being honest with herself, Andri can see the appeal in using the abandoned section of a sewer as a base, though she scoffs at the cliché. And the smell. And the fact that she had to crawl along the ceiling, over the heads of the two unsuspecting guards positioned to guard the entrance to the dungeon. They were expendable thugs, and usually Andri would not bother to use rather painful blood magic to avoid such as these, but the last thing she needed was more bodies linked to her before she had some hard evidence.

That bleeding hunchbacked half-wit, she shouts deep inside while concentrating on her careful approach as not to alert the two thugs below her. As if I'd be caught dead massacring people for some obscure magical ritual conducted by a madman. She pauses briefly in her inner monologue, forcing herself to be honest, at least to herself. The price would have to be significantly higher. And I wouldn't have been so messy.

She has no idea why that thrice-cursed half-breed thought Andri would be the perfect suspect, but she faced baseless hostility for her chosen profession before, by those both fearful and stupid. And she guessed she was one of the more prominent blood mage residents in Alkenstar. She does know the guards were looking for her, and had already scared one of her more valuable clients away. Someone will pay for this.

The crime was gruesome enough, Andri admits. A family of eight, slaughtered for their blood, which had been used to draw arcane runes all over the place. Of course those idiot guards had cleaned away all of the runes already, without letting some actual expert take a look at the purpose and potential origin of the ritual. It had taken her three full days to find out the name of Berutz Redcoal, a previously insignificant merchant of odds and ends who had recently seen a major windfall. It took another two days for her to link Berutz' sudden change in fortune with the acquisition of a certain book of most illegal knowledge, and two more days to finally find his secret hideaway.

A full week of unpaid work. A full week of having to sneak through her own city. Not the first time Andri had to lay low after a botched job, but to her knowledge the first time she had to do so while actually being innocent.

Someone is going to bleed for this, she thinks darkly. Then she chuckles, looking at the fresh red scar on her right hand, the one she used to empower her climbing skills. Someone other than me.

Having rounded a corner, Andri allows the spell to dissipate. Her hand throbs still, but she ignores it as she sees a light in the distant. A few minutes of sneaking bring her in front of a cell's door, through which torch light shines. She hears Berutz' voice, speaking to himself, reciting something in a language she doesn't understand but which gives her goosebumps. Through a crack in the wooden door, she sees Berutz writiing something in a massive leather-bound ledger, in a room covered with bloody runes and the remains of at least one more unfortunate victim. Andri smiles. This is the evidence she is looking for.

***

A few hours later, Andri leads a disgruntled Tyrycho and some guards down the sewers. They pass the corpses of the two guards. One has been stabbed in the back, the other's face is melted. One of the guards blanches, Andri merely shrugs. "They detected me on the way out", she lies easily as she leads them to the incriminating chamber, and though Berutz is never seen again, his handwriting and the ritualistic descriptions used to boost his own fortune are more than sufficient to clear the female magus' name.

***

Berutz is declared a fugitive. For weeks the guards are searching for him, before giving up. No one takes note of the unexpected lucky breaks Andri experiences in the days following the raid on his hideout.



Andri's reward
Andri demands 20000 pieces of gold for her service, and was promised this amount upon completion of the task.


 

Last edited by Vex; 01-09-2018 at 08:05 PM.
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Old 11-26-2017, 05:50 PM
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Old 11-26-2017, 07:22 PM
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Old 11-30-2017, 10:53 PM
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Character Name: Beaufort "Bo" Buckhart, esquire
Race: Human, Andoran
Gender: Male
Class: Empiricist Investigator / Inspired Blade
Alignment: LN (with some LE tendencies)
Traits: Student of Philosophy, Accelerated Drinker
Appearance: Six feet tall and nearly half that wide, Beaufort is a man who could have been truly intimidating if exercise wasn't complete foreign to him. The over three hundred pounds of flab that adorn his body manifest in numerous chins, sweaty man-boobs, and a gut that you could lose an all-you-can-eat buffet in. His dark brown hair has begun to gray at the temples and sweeps off to the right has he constantly brushes at it as a sort of tic. His brown eyes are small to the point of almost seeming closed due to his heavy brow and his nose is strongly aquiline as though he were some kind of obese eagle. His thick lips are almost bulldogish with his jowls, but will constrict into a thin line when he is aggravated. Other than a pencil thin mustache, he is fastidiously clean shaven.

He does not dress for anything more adventurous than a heavy lunch. In most cases he wears something of a tweed suit, often with a yellow pocket handkerchief, brown leather shoes, and suspenders that he occasionally tugs at when he is making a point.

Personality: With an intellect and ego about as big as his body, Beaufort is a man who enjoys the finer things in life. He seeks fine wine, gourmet food, and good company, although many would say his standards are above even what some of the Taldan aristocracy seek. While he considers himself a high society sort, his overall personality leaves something to be desired. He's witty but unlikable, knowledgeable but not exactly wise, he could talk circles around most anyone but he often comes off preachy or (even worse) like a politician. He's a man of words and not a lot of action, but woe to anyone who thinks he is only full of hot air.

What question would your character ask Yanda, survivor of Be'gadeen?
"Now I know, I say, I know you can't feel your hands. That's what they all say. You knew this going in - don't you dare try and claim wrongful death. Now. You retrieved....nothing? What, praytell, am I supposed to give to the estate appraiser next Oathday? What about Inventory and Valuation? Eh? What am I, choppered liver? Speak up when I'm talking to you."

Character History: The Buckhardts have been living on Carpenden Hill since well before they through off the shackles of Taldor and Cheliax, being one of the few landed gentry to continue to hold their fortunes after the People's Revolt. While primarily concerned with the management of their vineyards, producing an excellent dry white, the sons and daughters of the Buckhardt estate are well known for pursuing careers in law and politics. Beaufort's own great grandmother was made Supreme Elect in her heyday, something that his family has exploited by printing her profile on every bottle of Buckhardt wine. Beaufort himself grew up in this lap of luxury; partaking each year in the moonmelon festival, following the noble art of fencing, and learning from the very best money could buy. When he came of age, he joined the family law firm as his father and father's father etc. had. Buckhardt & Sons specialized in property law, especially in cases of "finder's keepers" situations often involving so called "adventurers." Many a family tomb had been ransacked by these miscreants for the purposes of obtaining loot, and Buckhardt & Sons made sure said "treasure" remained in the hands of those who legally owned them. (Yes, that ring of invisibility might looking dashing on your finger but it belonged to this man's grandfather.)

While overall the Buckhardts were known for their hard work in the execution of law, Beaufort's mind was so keen that over time he spent less and less time doing field work and more time simply solving cases from his armchair. This has resulted in the man going largely to fat despite his history of being a much more active youth. The good times, however, were not to last. Daddy Buckhardt made a number of bad investments. These, plus several droughts resulting in less than stellar vintages, resulted in the Buclhardt estate losing much of its wealth and prestige. While they still hold on to their manor, much of it and their lands are rented out; thereby keeping enough of a cash flow to retain some semblance of their standard of living. The law firm, however, suffered the most of all as few wished to obtain the services of a property lawyer who wasn't even managing his own estate well.

Beaufort, now the primary partner in the firm, has sought clients from beyond Andoran's borders in order to bring back the prestige (and the money) that his family once possessed. The owners of the lands that Be'gadeen rests upon have hired Beaufort to assess and liquidate anything of value. If the curse associated with it could be vanquished, it would increase the value of the property greatly.


In Character Writing Sample: The woman laying upon the bed was only one of a series of unfortunates who had gone into Be'gadeen, only to face a terrible drawn out death. Beaufort had been among those who had hired her and all of her predecessors. Professional "adventurers," Bah! It was a good thing each of them had signed contracts baring anyone for suing his employers for wrongful death. They all, well all except the first expedition, knew the threats they would face and it was not the fault of Beaufort or his employers that they lacked the skill to...well not die. At this point frustration was settling in and it wouldn't be long before Be'gadeen would be written off as a complete loss. This would not do. There was his hourly rate, yes, but the contingency fee that was agreed upon should this whole venture work out was more than enough for some very fine living for a time.

The rather obese man loomed over the dying adventurer's bed, moping the sweat from his brow with a yellow handkerchief. These tropical climates simply didn't agree with Beaufort, not in the least. He listened as the folks whom the Shield Wardens hired asked their somewhat inane questions. They obviously had not read any of the debriefing either by Yanda or any of the previous survivors. Regardless, Beaufort had but one thing on his mind (well other than wrapping his lips around a pint sooner than later.)

"Now I know, I say, I know you can't feel your hands. That's what they all say. You knew this going in - don't you dare try and claim wrongful death. Now. You retrieved....nothing? What, praytell, am I supposed to give to the estate appraiser next Oathday? What about Inventory and Valuation? Eh? What am I, choppered liver? Speak up when I'm talking to you."

It was looking like it was time to get out of the armchair and back into the field.

Last edited by TheLawfulNeutral; 12-01-2017 at 05:30 PM.
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Old 02-02-2018, 06:32 PM
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Character Name: Rafe Stone (originally Raphael Kaerwick, but hasn't used that name in a long time.)
Race: "Human", Taldan
Gender: Male
Class: Bard (Arcane Duelist, Sound Striker)
Alignment: N?

Appearance: At a lean six foot three, Raphael presents the very image of a down-on-his-luck aristocrat in his late twenties / early thirties, complete with aquiline nose and sharp features. Long copper-brown hair tied back with a wrap of leather and polished bone married with green eyes and pale skin are the palette of his form. He wears fine Taldan attire, though quite out of fashion, covered by a long, dusty overcoat.

About: Rafe has been a fixture in Alkenstar for about seventy years. In that time, he has aged, though slow enough that the few people who know him might not have even noticed. He's known to rotate which settlement he calls home every decade or so, but tends to not get involved with the community, save for being a frequent visitor of any and all brothels, when he's not out exploring the Wastes. He also has a keen interest in the metalworkers and craftsmen of mechanical wonders, and is eager to help promote any such research.

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Old 02-03-2018, 02:15 PM
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Name: Brunthus, Prophet of the Old Gods
Race: Ulfen Human

Description: Brunthus is imposing. His hulking form blocks entire doorways as he steps ponderously over the threshold. A shock of blonde hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail that hangs just below his shoulders. In contrast, his beard is unkempt and wild. Hard blue eyes like ice sit above a crooked nose and thin lips. His attire is barely so; a worn and stained shirt that may have once been white and pants that are so patched that it's quite hard to tell which are patches and which are the original material. His boots are sturdy and black, and likely relatively new based on their solid construction and lack of holes. Once one gets over the off putting visual of this Ulfen, the eye is drawn to the great black crow upon his shoulder, croaking quietly into his ears and picking at his hair. Of lesser note, a once-fine pack that appears to have been beat to the ends of the earth and back rests upon his shoulders, clinking with more violent movement. In his hands, a massive two-handed axe covered in purple runes is hefted easily.

The Story Thus Far:
Brunthus stumbled into Alkenstar about three months back; immediately making a name for himself in the local pubs, taverns, and alcohol salesmen. Dependent upon their tolerance for his great black crow Frutur and his smoldering rage, was his thirst quenched for a short time. All at some point took his money. He spoke to few persons, preferring the company of his bird. As his cups emptied and his inhibitions melted under a wash of alcohol; his tongue became looser. Those who met his gaze found themselves sermonized of the Old Gods, sermonized of their weakness, their callow youth and ugly blindness. Brunthus made few friends and fewer converts.

Those who questioned him while deep in his cups discovered he had come from the Land of the Linnorm Kings. He was a warrior in his youth who raided often into Irrisen; the stronghold of the Winter witches; for plunder and entertainment, a song of Gorum on his lips. One such excursion found him return a broken man, babbling of unseen gods, ancient forgotten figures that lurked at the edge of dreams. Crows crowded around buildings he entered and took flying after him while out of doors. He never returned to Irrisen, spending more and more time in his cups; growing fat and fearful in darkness. The angry man has yet to explain why he eventually left his homeland, only that he did so begrudgingly. He stumbled his way south through the plains, shedding pelts as the weather grew warmer. He never had a specific destination in mind, merely putting one foot in front of another. Frutur was always at his side, cawing softly into his ears.
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