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Old Nov 24th, 2020, 02:15 PM
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Carrion Crown

~Open to new applicants until 5pm AEST Friday 10th September!~

~Carrion Crown~

Chapter 1 - The Haunting of Harrowstone
Plot SummaryTales are told throughout Golarion of shadowy figures that lurk in dark corners—stories recounted at children’s bedsides feature bestial creatures that come out only when the moon is right, and fireside legends speak of otherworldly beings beyond reckoning, whose very existence is more than the human mind can bear to know. These are the legends that explain where the blood of the family cow went, and why clerics spend so much time ensuring the proper Pharasmin rites are observed at gravesites throughout the Inner Sea. One can write them off as simple, scary stories in Absalom or Westcrown, but in Ustalav, everyone knows the truth of the things that go bump in the night...

The Tale of Harrowstone Prison, AR 4661

Some small towns grow up around a university, their shops and other offerings catering to a scholastic clientele. Others boast famous festivals or specialized industries that draw skilled artisans and craftsmen. But in the sad case of Ravengro, the town’s claim to fame is a prison. And not just any prison, for Ravengro supported one of Ustalav’s most notorious jails—Harrowstone. Twice a year, a prison convoy rounded up the worst of the worst from smaller, less secure jails across the principality and transferred them to Harrowstone, often to await death by hanging, but always to live out the rest of their lives as prisoners.

Already the home of dozens of notorious criminals, the mid-year prisoner convoy of 4661 ar brought a particularly horrendous batch of criminals all at once. Among them were five particularly notorious convicts: the Lopper, the Piper of Illmarsh, Father Charlatan, the Mosswater Marauder, and even the infamous Splatter Man. Not even Harrowstone was adequately equipped to handle these criminals, and as their execution dates drew near, the Lopper and the Splatter Man, working together, picked their moment and staged a desperate attempt to seize control of the prison and, perhaps, escape.

Yet while they managed to turn the tables on Harrowstone’s guards and, for a few minutes, held control of the prison, they did not anticipate an act of self-sacrifice by Harrowstone’s head warden, Lyvar Hawkran. Only a few minutes after the prisoners seized control of Harrowstone’s lower level, Warden Hawkran triggered an emergency deadfall that sealed the dungeon and trapped everyone (including himself and most of the prison guards) within the prison’s dungeon, leaving the only way out a supply lift that couldn’t be activated from the dungeon level.

It was via this lift that the Warden and other trapped guards initially thought to escape, but before they could make it to safety, they were overpowered by the rioting prisoners and taken hostage. The prisoners attempted to use their hostages to force the few guards who remained on the floor above to lower the lift, but the guards were too well trained. Even with their warden and most of their friends trapped below, they continually refused to lower the lift—further, they set guards around the lift’s shaft above so that any prisoner who attempted the nearly impossible climb would have to contend with crossbow bolts raining down from above. Eager to avoid sparking a panic in Ravengro, the guards holed up and did a masterful job keeping the truth of the riot contained while they desperately tried to work out a plan.

Yet several hours later, after Lyvar failed to return home for his customary dinner, the warden’s wife Vesorianna crossed the prison grounds from her home to the central prison. In their panic, the guards had left the main entrance to the prison unlocked, so Vesorianna was able to enter the prison with ease, only to find it strangely empty. Following the sound of shouting, she came to the training room where the remaining guards were gathered near the lift shaft to the dungeon.

When Vesorianna learned from the increasingly frantic guards that her husband was trapped with the madmen below, she pleaded with the guards on the ground level to remove the deadfall and stage a rescue. When they repeatedly refused, she went into hysterics. She managed to dodge the guards, run to the lift’s winch, and throw the release, causing the heavy wooden platform to plummet into the dungeon below in the hope that her husband could leap onto it and be pulled to safety. In actuality, the lift crushed several guards and a few prisoners who had been standing directly below it—the horrified Vesorianna was convinced her husband was among them. Taking advantage of her shock, several guards managed to finally apprehend her and swiftly bustled her off to the prison workshop at the other end of Harrowstone, locking her inside for her own safety.

The remaining guards worked frantically to keep the prisoners from escaping—with the lift below swiftly filling with eager prisoners, they couldn’t simply pull it back up. And as other prisoners began climbing the chains that connected the fallen lift to the upper level, the guards grew desperate. Knowing that they were about to be outnumbered by lunatics, they made a fateful decision— they began rolling barrels of lamp oil from the nearby storeroom into the hole, hoping to dislodge prisoners from the lift and dissuade them from climbing. But when one of Harrowstone’s most notorious prisoners, the spellcasting murderer known as the Splatter Man, stepped into view and began using his magic against the guards, desperation gave way to blind panic and one of the guards threw a lit torch into the oil-soaked depths, figuring that if the lift were burned, order would be restored.

Unfortunately, the resulting conf lagration was much bigger than anyone could have expected. The huge oil slick below caught fire and spread throughout the lower cellblock. The ensuing flames incinerated both the screaming prisoners and surviving guards below, while thick plumes of smoke swiftly worked to suffocate those above. The remaining guards on the ground level fled, only realizing much later to their horror that no one had bothered to release Vesorianna Hawkran from the workshop. The town of Ravengro mobilized to extinguish the fire before it spread, but the damage had been done. One of Ustalav’s most notorious prisons was no more.

In the 50 years that followed the Harrowstone Fire, the town of Ravengro moved on to become a pleasant (and perhaps even boring) farming community. Yet the town’s old-timers remember well the eerie prison caravans that carried monsters through the town. And none in Ravengro can ignore the brooding, dark ruin of the old prison that looms on the hill overlooking the town. Tales of the prison being haunted are traded by Ravengro’s youths, and on certain dark nights they taunt each other to touch the rusting bars on the prison windows. Dares to spend the night in the edifice are routinely posed and never accepted.

In the Carrion Crown Adventure Path, the horrors of the night become undeniably real as you undertake a journey that will decide the future of a nation. Ustalav rests in your hands now - will you answer the call?

ApplicationI am after 5-6 players to take through this AP, possibly running the game with two groups if there is enough interest. Sources for mechanics and character creation will be paizo only and come from and/or Any other official sources you can show me will be considered.

Posting rate: This is an adventure path, a long-haul style of gameplay. I expect that posting rate doesn't need to be more than 2-3 per week, but if there is no action on your character within a week I will NPC to help move things along. I will keep combat moving in particular, posting GM updates twice a week and NPC'ing as needed. In these situations, you can leave notes or general outlines of character decisions and I will work within those parameters. Burnout is real! Real life is real! Communication is key-let me know if something is up and we can work around it.

Game Folder
Background Information on Ustalav and Ravengro


Race (15RP or lower allowed): The greater population of Ustalav is generally split in the following way: 90% humans, 2% elves, 2% dwarves, 1% halflings, 1% gnomes, 4% other. The other races are likely to be distrusted, with racially intolerant residents potentially common in the smaller, remote towns spread across Ustalav. While I do not want to discourage any race in particular, out-of-the-ordinary races will likely be under greater scrutiny.
Class: Core, Base, Hybrid, Occult and Unchained classes allowed. 1 per class limit
Background and Personality: You are allowed to be from anywhere in Golarion, though there is a stack of information specific to Ustalav here, should you wish to tie your character into that country.
Relationship to Petros Lorrimor: This is tied into your campaign trait, so read the Player's Guide (linked below) and link this in to your character's background.
Motivations to visit Ravengro (Secreted): Far apart from hearing the call to attend Petros Lorrimor's funeral, what else drew you to Ravengro? Perhaps you have heard a rumor or two, perhaps you know something of the history of the town, and the prison that once drew the worst of the worst behind its walls. Perhaps you might just be a monster hunter, seeking a shred of evidence to find the Beast of Lepidstadt. Whatever it is, please place this behind a secreted spoilerbutton in your post.
RP sample:

Please write a RP sample in character, outlining what you were doing and where you were when Professor Lorrimor's letter was delivered. Were you difficult to find? Were you in a big city, or the middle of nowhere? Was it hand-delivered, or sent through the postal system?
*Players guide: There is a players guide, found here. There is no need to make a character sheet for this adventure yet, but if you would like to base your character around one of the campaign traits go right ahead!

Any questions, please feel free to ask-I will keep an FAQ spoiler at the bottom of this first post.
Deadline: 5pm (AEST) Dec 12

Character Creation Technical DetailsPathfinder SRD Only: No 3rd party material.
Starting Level: 1
Wealth: Maximum starting level
XP: Fast track
Class: Core, Base, Hybrid, Unchained and Occult. Emerging firearms only.
Archetypes: 1 per class limit
Races: 15 RP or lower
Alignment: No evil
Stats: High Fantasy, 25-point buy
HP: Full at level 1, rolled thereafter.

Traits: Choose 1 in addition to the Campaign trait, no drawbacks
Alternate racial traits: Allowed, but must be thematic.
Additional house rules: Hero points will not be used. Background skills will be in play. Elephant in the room feat tax will be utilized.


Have taken the Oath of Sangus.

Last edited by pianoman90; Sep 3rd, 2021 at 04:26 AM.
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Old Nov 24th, 2020, 02:20 PM
Ziether Ziether is offline
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Name: Finneaous FastidiousF. Facklebar, Esq.
Race: Halfling
Class: Inquisitor of Abadar (Infiltrator, Inevitable Subdomain)
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Age: 37
Role: Face, Conscience, Magic Device Specialist, Limited Healing, Two-Sided Social Specialist




Connection to Professor Lorrimor:

Motivation to Visit Ravengro:

Post Link: Link, link, linketty link

RP Sample
Insult to Injury

Sunlight had faded hours ago, and Finneaous F. Facklebar, Esq remained hidden deep in the bowels of what passed for a courthouse in the haphazard capital of Nirmathas, a small city called Tamran. The day had been long even before it began, with rushed legal preparations after a court order changed some of the charges filed against his client along with both a change of venue and the naming of an alternative magistrate to oversee the proceedings. Needless to say, the day had gone downhill from there. One more week, and then I can move on. Just one more week. The halfling lawyer’s mission had him traveling between churches devoted to Abadar, and the fledgling one in Tamran was too small to require much more inspection. His day job providing legal services kept him busy, but the nation’s judicial system was frustrating at best. Knocking back a fifth glass of brown liquor, more than enough to thoroughly intoxicate his small body, he packed up his scrolls and took one last look at the open page of The Order of Numbers. "Law is necessary for civilization, and the advancement of law is never futile." The words rang hollow after the day’s defeat, but they reminded him exactly what purpose he served. With a weary sigh, he finally packed up the tome and made his winding way through the corridors to emerge into Tamran’s night.

"Agent Facklebar? I was told to look in Tamran for a Finneaous Facklebar, and that the courthouse was the best place to look." A tall man with the slightly pointed ear tips of a part-breed elf looked relieved at the smaller man’s arrival. A badge bearing the image of a golden key rode on the breast of his waistcoat, proclaiming him to be an official messenger of the Church of Abadar. "A letter came addressed for you at the temple in Almas. I’m sorry to say that the Inquisition unsealed it before it could be forwarded." At a nod from the halfling, the emissary passed over a carefully-lettered parchment bearing the marks of a long journey from Ustalav to Andoran, along with an official stamp of the Church of Abadar to explain its state. "It seems you were important to somebody."

"I-" Finneaous started to speak, but cut himself off. Important to someone? What in the nine Hells? He reached into a pocket and pulled out a notebook and charcoal pencil. "Your name? I want to make sure your superiors know of your dedicated service." Paying the man would be unthinkable. He obviously earned a wage, so the best tip was a good word. He dutifully jotted down the information. "Pardon me, but I should probably go somewhere less public." Tipping his cap, the small man nodded graciously and beat a hasty retreat back to the inn, not stopping until he had locked the door to his room behind him.

The words flowed smoothly and quickly. There was no emotion. Finneaous had known the professor for a few months and held a fondness for the man, but it was a business relationship, not a personal one, at least not much of a personal one. It stung slightly, knowing that a decent person had passed, but knowing that the scholar had desired his presence meant a great deal. Ravengro? In Canterwall? Canterwall held great curiosity, as a beacon of democracy beyond the borders of Andoran. You’ve always wanted an excuse to visit Canterwall. There was no guarantee he could attend. It would need to be cleared by the Church. This would require persuasion. Pulling out a chair, he sat and extracted his best inkpen, carefully laying out intricate calligraphy across a lengthy sheet of parchment. This will work. His arguments were always sound, and the Church loved itself a good argument.

Last edited by Ziether; Nov 27th, 2020 at 05:42 PM.
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Old Nov 24th, 2020, 02:54 PM
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pianoman90 pianoman90 is offline
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Phew! That is the quickest app I have seen land on any of my game threads ever. Thanks Zie!

*NB-no insider information was shared, Ziether probably has super sleuth skills and found the advert thread in the game folder which I have been working on for a week or so.

Have taken the Oath of Sangus.
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Old Nov 24th, 2020, 02:59 PM
Ziether Ziether is offline
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Originally Posted by pianoman90 View Post
Phew! That is the quickest app I have seen land on any of my game threads ever. Thanks Zie!

*NB-no insider information was shared, Ziether probably has super sleuth skills and found the advert thread in the game folder which I have been working on for a week or so.
To be quite frank, I did find Pianoman's folder a few days ago, and I've applied to a Carrion Crown game before, so the flavor was something I was already familiar with. Finneaous largely came to me wholesale, with minor alterations over the days of prep.

No, there was no insider information shared. Pianoman plays in the game I run, and he doesn't have his site activity set to private, so when I click on his profile to get to various things, sometimes I stumble across evidence of previously-hinted-about games.
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Old Nov 24th, 2020, 04:14 PM
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SalmonMax SalmonMax is offline
Not-So-Great Old One
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Name: Arcata Dulat
Race: Human (? maybe half elf?)
Class: Arcanist
Background and Personality: Arcata is a member of a once-noble house now fallen on hard times.

Relationship to Petros Lorrimor: Pending

Motivations to visit Ravengro (Secreted):

RP sample: Pending
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Old Nov 24th, 2020, 06:32 PM
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MoonZar MoonZar is offline
Zar Campaign World
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Tales are told throughout Golarion of shadowy figures that lurk in dark corners—stories recounted at children’s bedsides feature bestial creatures that come out only when the moon is right, and fireside legends speak of otherworldly beings beyond reckoning, whose very existence is more than the human mind can bear to know. These are the legends that explain where the blood of the family cow went, and why clerics spend so much time ensuring the proper Pharasmin rites are observed at gravesites throughout the Inner Sea. One can write them off as simple, scary stories in Absalom or Westcrown, but in Ustalav, everyone knows the truth of the things that go bump in the night...

The Immortal Principality of Ustalav lies on the northern shore of Lake Encarthan, a grim bastion of civilization amid the barbarian north, where a harsh landscape and a history rich in tragedies inspire a wary population with skepticism, religious devotion, and superstition. Modern Ustalav is split into thirteen distinct regions called counties. Hannah was born in Canterwall, into a large farmland located between Tamrivena and Ravengro. The place was prosperous, her father employing fifty farmers. The only child of Ulrich Von Wagner and Katrina Lorrimor was an ordinary girl until she blossomed into an unusually beautiful and tall lady. Gracious, yet strong like two average men, she was gifted in many ways. Hannah's father was able to afford higher education. As a religious man, Ulrich chooses a famous girl school in Tamrivena organized by a branch of the Pharasma's sisters. Hannah's life was otherwise unremarkable.

Life in Ustalav always been hard and unforgiven for most people. Beasts, monsters and orcs rampaging through the land were routine, winter was merciless, disease and starvation were too common. Regardless, Wagner's family managed to stay out of trouble until their daughter's eighteen birthday.

This is the tragic story of Hannah Von Wagner, the grey maiden.

They came for me under the cloak of night, like a whisper in the wind.

When I woke up, they already butchered half the men.

My mother was cut into pieces under my very eyes.

The cabal of necromancers harvested her organs, collected her limbs, skinned her. Her pieces preciously put in a cart with the remains of many others who suffered the same fate.

It was an act of pure horror well beyond what mortals could do as some of those monsters were not alive.

I wish I would have been killed. Captured, they kept me alive in their lair with a greater plan for me.

For days they stitched together body parts of my family and some townfolks together to create an abomination.

I only learned their true motive when their creation was ready. They wanted to take revenge on Petros Lorrimor, my uncle, by using the soul of one of his own to fuel an unstoppable golem of flesh that would hunt him down and destroy Ravengro in the process.

No words could describe accurately the terrors I saw, frozen in death, in an iron cage, helpless.

One night I woke up slowly, feeling groggy and out of place.

My head pounding and my body is sore.

As I opened my eyes to see where I’m, I saw nothing. No light, no door, no window, nothing. Solely a pitch black empty room.

It was very small… And had satin…

I reached up only to have my hand abruptly hit the top of whatever I’m in.

Slowly I felt around, and much sooner than I’d like, I found out what's happening, and this discovery made me scream in terror.

I have been buried alive with that corpse, the same body that was stitched together by the necromancers.

Pounding on the ceiling of my box, I panicked and calmed down only on the verge of passing out.

Tears started to well up in my eyes, but I no clue what to do.

Even if I were to clawed and scratched and do everything I could to get out, I would never be able to break through the coffin.

Might as well just let it happened I thought.

But I wanted to live! Why, oh why did I had to go through all of this?

To wake in total darkness when all I wanted was fresh air and even some sunshine!

All I wanted is to wade in a pool of water or feel the soft grass beneath my bare feet.

The quiet was deafening, and the darkness consuming.

Slowly I faded away... out of air... and I died... I thought...

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A few days before Petros Lorrimor's death...

It's pouring on the insignificant town of Ravengro, a settlement located in the west of the county of Canterwall. Regardless, shadows of men were doing shady things in the graveyard, but none of the nearby villagers were courageous enough to look into what those people are doing out there. They brought a coffin with them, and after a few hours, they were gone without it.

- " NOOOOOO!!! Let me out someone, HELP!!!! CAN SOMEONE HEAR ME? DAMN IT!!!! "

With the wind blowing and thunder cracking into the sky night, nobody hears the faint voice several buried several feet into the mud.

The voice fades into the night, and only the rain falling on the mud can be heard for miles.

Pharasma intervene, disrupting the necromancers' experiment with her wrath. Just before dawn, a massive divine lightning strike illuminates a brilliant pathway above, lifting the eyes of all the villagers to their windows, bringing even the slowest soul-pulses back into a steady and strong rhythm.

The explosion reanimated Hannah and dug a six feet deep crater.

Petros Lorrimor is the first to arrive at the scene. Soak wet with rain, with his feet drowning in the mud they try to protect his eyes. The middle-aged man falls on his knee in the middle of the cemetery, in front of grey flames defying the rain in a hole full of mud, rain and roasted body parts. A few minutes after his daughter Kendra joined I'm with an umbrella she has difficulties controlling it in the storm.

- " Holy mother of graves... what the heck? " The man's words become silent when the flames are finally defeated by the rain and an arm burst suddenly out of the mud. Something is getting out, fighting the ground, desperate to live, reaching out for air. Covered in mud, the old father thinks for a moment that it's an undead or a ghoul bringing eternal damnation with it. But no... It's a woman, a young woman trying to crawl out of a bloody hole. - " Help... HELP ME! " Hannah struggles, but her strength gave up as she disappears into the pool. - " Father, it's Hannah... I think. help her! I recognize her voice. Quick! "

Hesitant, the man breaks from his fear and provides assistance before his niece drowns in that corpses soup. - " HANNAH!!! What are you doing here?! " The scholar pulls her out of her misery. - " Uncle... Kandra? Is that really you. They... They killed all of them... " Hannah is crying in relief, broken. Kandra notices a small burned tattoo on her right shoulder that is steaming under the rain. It's Pharasma's holy symbol, but there's a grey rose on the pattern. - " Look father... " They never saw that drawing before, intrigued. - " Can.. you stand? Come, the house is nearby. " She stands on her long and athletic legs with a bit of help from Kandra and her uncle. - " Let's get you out of that dreaded weather. "

Hannah spent the next few days in bed at the Lorrimor's residence. Her young body quickly recovering. Her innocence was killed by what she witnessed but was replaced by something else when Pharasma's lightning stroke her. Divine power was flowing through her body and soul, she couldn't understand it, or control it. Yet, something was calling to her. It wasn't a simple feeling of revenge, but a greater calling of becoming the wrath of heaven. Hannah didn't know anything about violence before the tragedy. She never held a sword or hurt anyone for that matter. Still, something changed in her, as if whatever stroke her from the sky gave her knowledge and purpose. The walking deads needed to be dealt with.

Petros visited her daily until she was back on her feet. He appeared nervous and more weird than usual. Regardless, Hannah Keep the promisewas grateful that he arrived just in time to save her from drowning with Kandra, she was in his debt and swore to help him hunt down the family enemies. Back on her feet, she didn't have time to get outside that the news of Petros' death at Harrowstone was brought to her by a weeping Kandra. Hannah wasn't particularly close to him, but in the space of a few days she lost her parents, her friends and now her uncle. His death is suspicious to say the least after those necromancers just tried to create some kind of monsters to get rid of him and the town of Ravengro.

Kandra and Hannah are now the only survivors of the Lorrimor's bloodline.

BioName: Hannah Von Wagner
Class: Paladin of Pharasma - Undead Scourge
Race: Human
Age: 18
Trait: Making good on promise

Personality: Her heart is big as the country, but a bit rough around the edges after the horrors she has seen. Hannah is a compassionate and caring lady. but changed much since her parents' death. She is full of anger and wrath when the whispering way undead or necromancers are mentioned. Suffering from post-traumatic stress and nightmares, she doesn't sleep much and is having trouble making new relationships and express how she is feeling. The only important person remaining in her life is her cousin Kandra.

Appearance: Noticeably tall and fair-skinned woman with straight waist-length silky black hair, blue eyes, and broad shoulders. She is young and attractive in appearance, sporting a voluptuous frame with a sizable bust and well-toned yet muscular build.

Background: See intro

Relationship to Petros Lorrimor: She is Petros’ niece, from Petros' sister, Katrina Von Wagner

Motivations to visit Ravengro (Secreted): See intro roleplay.

RP sample: See intro roleplay

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I’m having a cold, and job hunting. Thank you for your patience!

Last edited by MoonZar; Nov 28th, 2020 at 06:49 AM.
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Old Nov 24th, 2020, 06:39 PM
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Begon Ugo Begon Ugo is offline
Feeding my addiction...
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Willow Green
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Name:Willow Green


Age: 32

Class:Witch (Insanity)

Intended Role:Debuff


Traits Making Good on Promises, Reactionary






Extinction is the rule. Survival is the exception.
I have taken The Oath of Sangus
Gm: Curse of Strahd, Way of the Wicked, Call from the Deep, Dragonlords, Edgewatch, and Masks of Nyarlathotep

Last edited by Begon Ugo; Dec 6th, 2020 at 08:23 AM.
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Old Nov 24th, 2020, 06:44 PM
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Preacherwolf Preacherwolf is offline
Simply Doomed
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Krieger Dichter
Name: Krieger Dichter
Race: Human
Class: Gunslinger (Musket Master)
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Age: 21
Personality: Krieger is a mixed bag. On the one hand, he's a solider and a mercenary. A man cold and calculating, who's grit and resolve has seen him through many hopeless fights and even worst employers as those around him die. On the other hand he's a man who enjoys the likes of Elven poetry, Dwarven artistry and gnomish wines. A cultured man who understands the nuances of fine dining and passion of an authors words. Krieger tries his hardest to compartmentalize his two sides, the solider and the poet. In this way, the horrors of fighting allow the poet to flourish and the poet's soft hart doesn't get the solider killed.

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Relationship to Petros Lorrimor:

Motivations to visit Ravengro (Secreted):

Sample RP:

Last edited by Preacherwolf; Dec 3rd, 2020 at 09:39 PM.
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Old Nov 24th, 2020, 07:20 PM
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The Lady Ashmanaille Teldas
Lady Ashmanaille "Ash" Teldas,
Ifrit Swashbuckler, Inspired Blade, Fencer Extraordinaire
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Melee Combat, Charismatic Wordplay,
Knowledge of History and Nobility

Alternate Racial Traits:
Mostly Human, and possibly Wildfire Heart

Ashmanaille is of regal bearing. Of Taldan heritage, she takes after her mother. She stands tall at just under 6 feet, with a lithe, athletic physique. She’s well proportioned and quite attractive, but something about her hints at an otherworldly nature. Maybe it’s the way firelight glints off her eyes, or her lightly tanned skin, always abnormally warm to the touch. Her facial features are round, with a small, almost button nose and amber eyes. She has short, wavy, bright red hair, reaching down to her jawline. She wears fine clothing, immaculately pressed and cut, with fashionable colors and accents, as well as jewelry fitting her high station.

Where she inherited much of her mother’s physical traits, when it comes to her personality, Ashmanaille takes after her father more than she would like to admit. Some would call Teldas vain, and they’d be partially correct. She takes great pride in presenting herself, attempting to maintain a clean and fashionable appearance. She’s not necessarily afraid to get her hands dirty to perform her duty, but she’ll complain about it to any who would listen. She has a strong sense of honor, though, and this sense of duty is what drove her to divorce herself from her family. She is quick to anger, quick to forgive (usually), and steadfastly loyal.


Relationship with the Late Proffessor: Teacher's Pet

Reason for Visiting Ravengro:

RP Sample:
Horseman of the Rockpocalypse
Celeste Elbereth - Tyrant's Grasp || Liliana Vaticus - The Darkwatch
October 2020 POTM

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Old Nov 24th, 2020, 07:44 PM
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Panthas Panthas is offline
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Name:Zurzam Termian
Race: Halfling
Class: Summoner
Role: Melee/Damage, Mayhaps a bit of buffing, mounted
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Campaign Trait: Chance Savior
Born in the devilish tyranny of Cheliax, but cradled in the oddity that is Brastlewrack, Zurzam lead a generally peaceful life in his youth whilst the rest of the empire suffered. Brought up amongst the constant craze of the gnomish city, the young halfling had his fill of whatever new wonders he wished, but always with the knowledge of the world beyond the walls of his haven. The oddity of being a halfling amongst gnomes, an entire city of them, was actually ignored in his youth. There was always some new wonder, some refreshing invention around the corner. But his parents made sure he knew of the rest of the world beyond He didn’t know their sources, but he was aware of the slavery, how he was favored amongst his people for being untouched by it. That all came to an end when his family decided to leave Cheliax, to escape the threat of chains, even though they were free, having worked off their debt that the scheming Cheliaxians had forced upon the enterprising young halfling couple years ago. On the way to the border, his family caravan was overtaken by brigands turned slavers, looking for the easy money of always popular halfling slaves. Still a youngling, the small halfling was discarded along the way, but found the strength to follow. With the help of an unexpected ally who emerged from the night, he rescued his family and made it to Andoran.


With a new fire lit within, or at least smoldering, the young halfling was left in the care of a distant cousin in Andoran, his parents leaving to return to Cheliax and fight to free more of their kind.After spending time simply working to make ends meet, the smoldering coal within kindled to show him his passion for freedom, a mark from his attempted enslavement. His efforts however lead him away from the hustle and bustle of civilization, off to more truly find himself. Spending time in the Verduran Forest and the town of Fusil, the hafling finally learned of the ally who had aided him in rescuing him those years ago. The bond they shared, the unspoken pact they had made, came to light and Zurzam finally met his savior, Beriton, an eidolon given form by his need.

Engaging in private contemplation with Beriton, he explored the abilities of his newfound companion, forming a personal bond beyond something supernatural, finding a kindred spirit. They traversed the Verduran forest, exploring its darkened areas, but always returning to Fusil and the comforting promise of it, the small settlement amongst of the trees, living in harmony with the forest instead of a battle against it. Finally, when his feet would not stop their itch, he set out again and halfling and eidolon set out to explore more of the world, venturing beyond the borders of Andoran, leaving behind the logging tortured forests of the nation of the free, powerless before the will of the Lumber Consortium, hungering for the lifeblood of the world. The hungry devouring of the beautiful trees by the industry of Andoran left him saddened, but the true pain was in realizing that to save them was beyond his ability. So instead he set out to explore, to grow, and maybe become a person that could stand against the might of any gluttonous industry.

While Zurzam is as amiable and generally cheerful as the next halfling, his life circumstances have scarred him in odd ways. Growing up in the chaotic city of Brastlewrack left him with a very skewed view of cities, and he finds areas of large population to be somewhat stifling. Instead of the carefree, explorative nature of the gnomes, most cities are more confining and rigid, incarnations of law and order on a level that the halfling finds claustrophobic. Instead these days he opts for the wide open spaces of field and plains, or the roofing of a forest rather than the closed in “comforts” of a city. In urban settings or out, he is still a jovial companion, finding laughter and a flashed smile far better company than brooding over things he can’t control.

Having been brought up amongst gnomes, the halfling is more disposed to chaos and japes, though he has never quite fathomed their humor and love of odd practical jokes, he still enjoys a laugh. He oftentimes gets caught up in nature though, happy to wile away the hours admiring the beauty of a group of flowers and watch the insects flit amongst them, or tromp through a forest, trying to find as many different mosses as possible.

He is used to a life with few people, only the company of his companion on the road, but is happy to pitch in and join a group that he matches up with. He will cheerfully cook for them, swap stories, or outrageous lies, something he picked up amongst the gnomes. But when things turn to cities, or the law in general, his mood seems to shift. Zurzam is rather confrontational with he law, his early years in lawful, yet slave ridden Cheliax soured him on the concept, and he finds that laws let people live without thinking. Twas a fact laid bare living any a city full of freedom loving gnomes who contributed without thought to the cruelty of the empire. So when slaves come into view, the halfling will have to resist jumping onto Beriton’s back and hying off to free them, having learned that if his companions are amiable, he can have allies in the battle. Freedom is his bread, and expression his butter, and he views the law as a curdling force upon the meal of his life.

If he were stockier, Zurzam might be mistaken for a short dwarf. With a well grown beard and luxurious hair that tends to grow to messy lengths when living amongst nature, the halfling is more like a short lumberjack than he is a typical halfling. His hair is an unnatural shade of bluish-green, like water on a stormy day, or a stream flowing past mossy banks, the result of consenting to some odd taste testings in a gnomish city. While he barely breaks the three foot tall mark, he is well muscled, moving less fluidly than some of his fellow halflings, but secure in his strength and a bit fuller in body than is normal. His hazel eyes are intelligent but kind, touched by laugh lines rather than frowns, and his lips are always quick with a smile and a deep voice that rings out merrily. He tends to dress simple, tunic and pants, a warm cloak, the sort of thing one wears upon the road, as he always seems to be. He has little use for gilding or ornamentation on his clothing, sticking to clean, simple patterns and focusing on durability.

Relationship to Petros Lorriomor:
Having quit Fusil for a period, the same people in the same place, doing the same things for too long had gotten to the halfling, Zurzam and Beriton had been meandering south through the Verduran Forest, exploring pathways he didn’t get to explore as much and catching very occasional sight of the more reclusive members of the forest. By chance, the two arrived at Black Forks at the time of the new moon, a time he would generally rather not be there, as he never trusted the mysterious individuals that congregated for their odd rites. The whole place was steeped in evil from the history he knew of, tainted, like a cankerous sore upon the beauty of the forest. But all the locals avoided it, so he was rather surprised to find an individual camped out not far from it. Drawn by the fire, he learned that the human guide was escorting what she considered to be a rather eccentric individual that had gone up to the ruins, against the warnings of her local knowledge, or perhaps because of it.

Shaking his head at the foolishness of some, he hurriedly mounted Beriton and sent the eidolon haring off towards the ruins, with a whispered prayer that his companion’s speed could outrun the foolishness of men. Happily he arrived, slowing down and with Beriton padding in quietly, to the sight of a completely engrossed professor oblivious to the rest of the world, watching the rituals of the sinister individuals. Slipping up behind him, and raising to stand upon his mount’s back, the halfling clapped his small hand over the man’s mouth to prevent noise, and drew his attention back enough to explain in very, very hushed tones to the professor that he should under no circumstances take actions of break into or interrupt the rites of the figures. Once confident that the man understood the situation, he pulled back a bit, observing, staying within distance of helping if it was needed, but mostly watching the fool of a man and shaking his head.

In the end the man, a Professor Lorrimor, had the sanity to keep his peace and depart in time to avoid any detection, alongside the halfling. While startled at first by the halfling, and with Zurzam considering the man a bloody fool, from this encounter blossomed a relationship held by correspondence across the leagues. They kept in touch, once Zurzam rode out of the eccentric academic’s camp, and through this, the halfling was employed various times across the continent, during his travels, by the ever roving Lorrimor.

Motivations to visit Ravengro:


Last edited by Panthas; Dec 11th, 2020 at 09:34 PM.
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Old Nov 24th, 2020, 08:55 PM
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Ericg1s Ericg1s is offline
Great Wyrm
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Name: Everly Reed
Race: Human
Class: Kineticist; Earth focus.
Age: Young Adult; 30.
Combat Role: Primarily ranged support. Would focus on keeping foes at range. Can fight in melee with a spear or dagger, but does not have the feat support to be effective.
Party Role(general): Mainly a damage source, but infusions grant some ability to get to places others have trouble reaching.
Appearance: Rather short and plain; about 5 feet tall, with pale eyes, skin, and hair. Body and facial features are rather rounded.
Personality/Alignment: Lawful Neutral. Somewhat shy/born follower-tends to try to melt into the group and not stand out as an individual. If she finds her place, she make become a bit more assertive.
Connection to Professor Petros Lorrimor: She studied under him to try to understand her powers.
Campaign Trait: Teacher's Pet: She has studied under the professor in private.
Motivations to visit Ravengro:

Background: Everly Reed was raised by simple parents, who worked with low-grade gems, making copper rings for merchants rather than gold for nobles. Her family might have been from Taldor, but she didn't grow up there. She was near Ustalav, but not part of the drama going on there. Her parents taught her the value of community and hard work, and that the value of your goods is less important than the value of your character. From the rest of the community her parents worked with, she learned that being a 'common member' of society is nothing to be ashamed of, and that the protruding nail will be hammered. From the religious and political leaders, and the counter-example provided by failed plots against them, Everly learned the value of obedience. She discovered a connection to the element of earth, which manifests itself in rocks moving around slightly. Although this is useful for digging a garden or searching for a lost item, it was worrying that she had such powers. She tries to learn from the University of Lepidstadt, but was not permitted to attend as a full student (mainly due to her parents not having a lot of money to donate to the University Endowment Fund.) A few of the professors, especially Lorriomor, helped her to better understand her power via private sessions. She has wandered somewhat for the last few years, trying to find a place to fit in.
Archetype: No special archetype.
Alternate race: No special alternate race. Does not take any infusions that alter her race type.
Character Sheet:
RP Sample:

Sample Post:
I don't know how to link to a specific post, so I am including a link to the thread which contains my post.
I am aware the my posts are often rather brief. I simply don't feel inspired to write very lengthy posts.

Last edited by Ericg1s; Dec 1st, 2020 at 07:52 AM.
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Old Nov 24th, 2020, 09:21 PM
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Icereach Icereach is offline
Occasional Otyugh
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Unchained or Unhinged?
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Oseran, the Prisoner
Elven Wizard (Necromancer)Freed Man, Socialite, Historian
The Prisoner is an interesting case. I doubt he realizes how much I still watch over him. Or that I know how he calls himself when he's alone. He worries me.

He claims to not realize how handsome he still is, but through my agents I watch him glide into society with grace and charm. In public he's smiling and genteel, even a tad beneficent. Unthreatening in his mild infirmity. His wit and openness put others at ease with his notorious past, and for that, at least, I am thankful.

However. I know something lurks beneath the well tailored suits and immaculately groomed locks. If you watch carefully, you can see the color leave his pale eyes when the gate opens. His smooth forehead doesn't deign to wrinkle, but his brows draw close. The sculpted lobes holding back his platinum hair seem suddenly sinister, wicked. That is when the Prisoner rises, and Oseran dies once more.


The Splatter Man's Legacy

Icereach#8108 | Gost, a campaign setting | The House of Ejlvajn, a module compilation

Last edited by Icereach; Dec 7th, 2020 at 03:21 AM.
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Old Nov 24th, 2020, 10:08 PM
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SelfAwareNPC SelfAwareNPC is offline
Sane in an insane world
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The Relic Thief
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MR. SCORN, Acquisitions Consultant
True Neutral Half-Drow Occultist
Burglar | Merc for Hire | Frontline Scout
(Mood Music)

"So long as greed exists, there will always be a need for a man like me..."

Mister Scorn is as spider-like in appearance as a hominid could possibly be given his long limbs, skittish mannerism, and unsettling demeanor that can make one's skin crawl.

He dresses heavily in black leathers and dark overcoats even during a hot summers day, mainly to avoid the sunlight itself. He keeps his white hair shorn to represent his own distancing from his old culture, even though the heavy scarring about his body serve as constant reminder. He walks about in near silence as a force of habit, clinging unconciously to the shadows and often sneaking up on people by accident, giving him a reputation as a creeper.

His eyes are always on the lookout for some danger, some trap, or some unattended treasure. He speaks very little, and his gangly limbs and large spectacles can give one the false sense of security that Scorn is a physical pushover. But nothing could be further from the truth as the proves himself time and time again to be more than capable with a blade.

PersonalityAn unnaturally calm, calculating and almost predatory demeanor came about due to early childhood trauma that has crystalized to become the detached and guarded man Scorn is today. A lifetime of fear and physical torture has been pushed to the far corners of his psyche, and he lives his life day by day now, unfeeling in emotions and uncaring for moral nuances. He keeps mainly to himself to avoid complications, but knows enough to be polite and inquisitive when searching for merc work or acquisition gigs.

He is low-key rather cunning, which he uses to maintain secrecy for his mission for good or for ill, and he does his best to avoid extremes lest he gain undue notoriety for his deeds. He is cultivating a reputation of reliability and competence for his services, and wants to keep himself approachable by anyone. Lawman or Crook, Hero or Villain. So long as the coin is good.



Why would anyone want to be an Oscar Meir Weiner?

Last edited by SelfAwareNPC; Nov 25th, 2020 at 06:23 PM.
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Old Nov 24th, 2020, 11:06 PM
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Wisp Wisp is offline
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Renata Lovasz
The BasicsName: Renata Lovasz
Race: Human
Alignment: Neutral Good
Class: Divine Hunter ArchetypeHunter
Deity: Gozreh
Traits: Subject of Study
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Standing in at 5'2", Renata is a small individual with a slight frame that packs a surprising amount of power in such a small package. She has light olive skin that is marred by various scars, some old, others new, but all are lessons in one form or another, each one a story of what not to do in a given situation. While most remain covered with her earth-toned attire a set of three run along the left side of her face, barely missing one of her brown eyes. In addition to her eyes, Renata has long and thick brown hair that is oft tied in a pair of braids with one on either side of her head, though they are far from neat. A fact that can be applied to most things regarding the young woman, she doesn't much care for presenting herself in any fancy way and puts little effort into her appearance, often coming into cities with dirt-smudged cheeks or torn clothes from her time on the road.

An unsurprising fact is that Renata values function over form. Her clothes are simple and lack stylistic flair, not to mention the colors are dull and meant to help her blend in rather than stand out. The few accessories Renata wears are simple and items she received as gifts, most often from her parents or grandfather. These consist of a pair of wooden earrings, and simple woven bracelets adorned with iron beads. All in all, she appears plain to most, and that's fine with her.

PersonalityRenata is a quiet sort. She rarely speaks unless spoken to and prefers to watch people from a distance rather than interact with them directly. The reason for this? Simple, people make her nervous. They're all different, unpredictable, and as liable to hurt you as they are to help you. It doesn't help that the young woman is suspicious by nature and has a habit of assuming people are out to get her rather than help her. Doubly so for elves, gnomes, or any other particularly exotic-looking race. Her actions are always carefully calculated and made to draw the minimum amount of attention possible, all to keep herself as invisible to the world as she can manage. Small-talk and pleasantries make her uncomfortable, she can barely keep eye contact when talking with strangers, and to top it off she has a nasty habit of freezing up when people try to do anything more than say a quick hello to her. Often her voice will rarely come out above a whisper, all in a desperate attempt to get out of whatever social situation the young woman finds herself in. In short, Renata is terrified of people because people are unpredictable.

Yet despite her quirks, and lack of social graces, Renata has her strong points. Intelligent and wise beyond her years, the young woman has a knack for problem-solving. Add on to that a courage rarely matched by even the most steadfast soldiers. She's a reliable companion to those who earn her trust and loyal to a fault. Due to this, it isn't surprising that towards the few friends she has Renata is fiercely protective, much like a mother bear towards her cubs. This, in combination with her surprisingly kind demeanor, and willingness to help others can take people by surprise. But, that doesn't stop her from doing what she can to make other's lives easier without the want or expectation of thanks. Another surprise to most is the young woman's devotion and reliance on her faith in times of hardship or struggle. That said, she has never been vocal about her faith and isn't out to push it on others, preferring to practice her faith in peace. All in all, underneath her lack of social skills and general distrust of others, lies a kind woman who has a stronger will than most would guess.


Professor Petros Lorrimor and RavengroRenata became acquainted with Petros after an encounter with a rather unsavory undead, he was contacted by her father who met him in passing years prior While his interest was purely academical at the outset Renata showed genuine interest in his work and the two kept in contact through mail throughout the years. While their relationship could never truly be considered friendly Renata would consider herself one of his pupils. To her he was a teacher and someone who shared information that she wouldn't otherwise be able to attain. Renata took his words to heart and viewed him as a mentor and someone to respect and listen to, for he was one of the few people she's known who truly knew what they were talking about. In other words Renata and Petros Lorrimor had the relationship of a teacher and student. One where Renata truly did respect Petros and thought highly of both the professor and the opinions he held. She valued his research and enjoyed learning what she could from him, and while the two rarely met face to face for the nine years she knew him they kept in touch through mail well enough.

RP Sample

Last edited by Wisp; Dec 6th, 2020 at 08:41 PM.
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Old Nov 25th, 2020, 08:41 AM
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Begon Ugo Begon Ugo is offline
Feeding my addiction...
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I do believe Willow is complete. Any and all feedback gladly welcomed!
Extinction is the rule. Survival is the exception.
I have taken The Oath of Sangus
Gm: Curse of Strahd, Way of the Wicked, Call from the Deep, Dragonlords, Edgewatch, and Masks of Nyarlathotep
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