Setting: Golarion(Homebrew story, not canonical) Starting in Sandpoint.
Story: There have been curious goings-on in Sandpoint of late. Rumors of attacks by vampires and werewolves. However, the local guards are baffled. Angus McDarrow is a paladin of Erastil and has come forward with a strange story about what is going on. The mayor believes it to be rubbish and has ignored him out of hand. But as the danger looms closer people can't help but wonder...
Application points:20pt Buy. All core/base classes are allowed(with the exception of gunslinger). All core races are allowed, and others will be taken under consideration. Traits allowed, except alternate racial(standard 2).Average starting gold. Story will be RP heavy, with many opportunities for combat and skill use.Tone will be slightly dark, but lighthearted at times. Looking for posters 1/day minimum. Applications should contain the following:
Name: Race: Class: Story:(including why you're in Sandpoint, make it reasonable) Personality: RP sample: based on the premise that you have heard of Angus and seek him out in the temple of Erastil.
Applications will be accepted until Friday April 13. Good luck!
Name: Aden of the Shield
Class: Cavalier (Honor Guard, Stratagist)
Aden was born in sandpoint, a third generation Horse Whisperer to Ardem Fullblade and his wife Celia. Unfortunately Ardem was a former adventurer fallen on hard times and Aden was forced to live with his family at the grace of the Kaijitsu family (his only real exposure to wealth, growing up. Fostering a crush on Ameiko but fearing her cruel and arrogent father, Aden had been on the recieving end of more than a few beatings from the elder Kaijitsu, (usually for eyes that lingered too long upon his daughter) his father unable to say anything to stop the man whose coin barely kept them fed.
Unable to even go to school, what hours could be spared, were passed learning to ride and fight. Despite the situation, Adens' father saw his boy was possessed of uncommon size and speed and was determined he would give his son a chance to better himself, even if he had to use brawn rather than brains to do it. Not possessed of much insight and lacking alot of personal conviction, Aden had to learn through drills and repetition until he had become a good rider and swordsmen. When he'd finally turned 15 his father had called in the last favor he had, for Angus McDarrow a longtime friend to take his son as a squire, with the view that one day his son MIGHT display enough skill and virtue to become a true knight.
Personality: Aden is a poor boy come good. Still plauged by distrust of those with so much more than the common man (and who always seem to be reminding him of his beginnings as a serf) , though his training as a squire has instilled him with a conviction to be a champion for those who go without and a desire to be a defender of the only home he has ever known. He is Neutral Good, while he respects the law he is not beholden to it, as is his mentor, Angus. Good is it's own ends as long as the lives of everyone can be bettered.
RP Sample:I honestly can say I'm not sorry the old Kaijitsu is dead. That old man was so cruel to me I wonder how those tears Ameiko sheds can possibly be real. Yet maybe their WAS some kindness in his heart. Ameiko couldn't have grown up so free spirited if he treated his daughter the same way he treated me or his son. Gods, she is beautiful. I should speak to her. I... cannot though. She is far too good for Ardem's boy. The too slow, lug whose always staring at his toes. I can only seem to find focus when I have father's sword in my hand. ONE day, I'll finally talk to her."
Aden grips the reins of his horse, Pharlap, Come on boy, Angus is waiting for us" He gently kicks the horse into a trot and heads to the temple. It was time to work.
I know two 7's is quite a dump but Aden still gets 4 skills per level and I wanted to make him a realfriendly jock type. If it's a problem I can drop his Str to 17 and Wis to 12 to make his Int 10.
Name: Gryfford, son of Marsus The Strong.
(Arena name: Gryfford the Unrelenting)
Class: Fighter (Weapon Master)
- Life is hard, my son, so you'd better enjoy it anyway. Be true to your word, your loved ones and the fine edge of your sword. Be fair where life is not.
Those were the last words of Gryfford's father, Marsus the Strong, while he laid on his deathbed, blood slowly seeping from multiple arrow wounds. Marsus, a retired gladiator, was a man of countless battles, many of them fought in the famous arenas of Tymon, one of the city-states of the peculiar River Kingdoms.
Gryfford grew without a mother, raised by his father and an old half-orc servant woman named H'arka. Death was a thoroughly acknowledged part of his life: quite a few of his father's friends, men he grew up around, perished in the arena.
But Death need not be sinister, his father taught him, if it is received and given with honor among honorable men and humanoids. If your enemies are dishonorable, though, then they deserve a dog's demise, and should be content if you are so kind as to swiftly impale them with a merciful thrust of the blade.
Gryfford took to heart the moral lessons of his father as well as his martial training. Growing up, he enjoyed himself and the company of steadfast friends and amicable women (many of them in the bordellos of his home town), and living the somewhat haphazard and disquieting life of a gladiator's son he found a focus in his falchion sword.
While the world around him was perhaps a little wild, the smoothness and the edges of his falchion blades - gifts from his father - were fixed and reliable, and at the same time flexible enough to accommodate his moods. He even took to speaking to them (his falchion blades), something which he finds quite soothing to this day.
He has called all of the falchion blades he has ever had "Sharpest", and he consider them variations on the same essential spirit.
Marsus was forced to flee Tymon after a disagreement with "Togs" Evard, a powerful local moneylender. His debts caught up with him in Varisia, after a long flight, when he and his son were ambushed by thugs rented by Togs. Gryfford doesn't know the exact nature of his father's debt, but it seems the agreed upon back payment was not money, and that Togs flew in a rage the day Marsus showed up at his lavish house and reimbursed him with solid gold, flatly refusing to repay the moneylender in any other way.
Gryfford will get revenge on Togs one day, but he figures his adversary is too powerful for him right now. Better to enjoy life, make some friends, train so as to become fearsome with his falchion - and then Gryfford will return to Tymon and will stick his blade in Togs in some suitably gruesome fashion.
For now, he can't (and doesn't want to) flee farther away, this little town in which he arrived being at the border of the sea. So he will stay and find something interesting to do with himself and his Sharpest.
Gryfford is a congenial man, paradoxically as ready to think the best of his humanoid fellows as to acknowledge the wickedness in some of them. He enjoys life as someone who has seen Pharasma's tender care of mortals quite often and plans not to pass idly his allotted time on this plane of existence.
He sometimes enjoys the company of half-orcs as friends and is a little obsessed with someday bedding an elven woman.
He is true to his word. Verily. He enjoys fighting and killing things with his falchion, so he tries to kill the right things. He is also maybe a little unhinged, as evidenced by his talking to his sword.
- Greetings, good man !
The villager walking in the middle of the dusty main street of Sandpoint turned his head toward the voice.
A man was walking across the street toward him with his hand extended in a gesture of friendship.
- I'm looking for Angus McDarrow, renowned paladin of Erastil, said the man. Do you know where I can find him ?
The villager, a miller as indicated by his blouse and hands powdered by flour, looked at him noncommittally, like a local looks at an unknown stranger in a small town in the varisian countryside.
The stranger was a tall man in his late twenties, with a sinewy musculous slender frame which indicated speed and strength of arms.
He had an angulous face with very clear blue eyes and blond hait curt short, except for a braid on his left temple which trailed on his shoulder, and was dressed in reddish brown leather with a mail shirt and leather pants tucked in knee-length boots smeared by the dry dust of the road.
A sheath with a falchion was strapped across his back like it had always belonged there. A small backpack, a shortbow and a quiver of arrows were thrust across his shoulder.
- I am called Gryfford, supplied the stranger with a grin, seemingly undisturbed by the attitude of the miller. I am a man of the sword with good intentions. Where is the paladin ?
- He may be in the temple, said the miller finally.
- Thank you, and may the Gods bestow a good day upon you.
Gryfford proceeded along in the street.
- You may be wondering why I'm searching for the paladin, he said seemingly to no one.
He caressed absent-mindedly the falchion's sheath on his back.
- Well, Sharpest, this paladin claims to know something about these recent attacks I overheard about in this inn with the strange-looking gal… Ameiko, I think she was called ? continued the man, speaking in thin air.
He nodded to an answer that he alone could hear.
- Yeah, I noticed that too. Anyway, attacks mean possible bloodshed. And possible bloodshed means potential employment and betterment of my swordsmanship.
The man paused. He looked at his clothes.
- Yes, red is the cleanest color.Besides I have never seen nor heard of a paladin of Erastil until now... I guess I'm just curious, Sharpest.
------------end of excerpt------------
Stats and crunchy-crunch o' the crunchiness coming up.
Class: Sage Wildblooded Sorcerer 1
As a boy, Taltōsh was playing in some ruins near where his clan's caravan had stopped for an evening. He found his way underground, and encountered a small gray ooze. The aggressive creature attacked, disfiguring Taltōsh with it's caustic touch. He managed to escape back to his family, but the burns left permanent scars.
Because of his disfigurement, Taltōsh took to concealing himself beneath heavy cloaks and robes. Taltōsh began spending more time with his grandfather and less with the other children, who teased him about his appearance. It was his grandfather that recognized the boy's sorcerous potential, and helped Taltōsh to unlock his powers.
His clan traveled all over Varisia and even beyond. Yet as they planned to travel to Nirmathas, Taltōsh's grandfather died. The young sage had promised to bury him in Sanos Forest.
When that was done, Taltōsh decided to strike out on his own instead of returning to his clan. Currently, Taltōsh is in the town of Sandpoint, and has heard rumors of monsters...
Taltōsh is self-conscious about his appearance, but of late he has worked at overcoming his shortcomings. However, the young sage is dedicated and hard working, and loyal to his friends.
He's quite proper when dealing with others, and a little standoffish until he gets a chance to know them.
The hooded sage entered the temple of Erastil, pausing at the threshold to allow his mismatched eyes to adjust. He then approached the armored man. "You are Angus McDarrow?"
After the paladin confirmed his deduction, the young man, still concealed beneath his robes, said, "I am Taltōsh. I have heard of your belief that werewolves and vampires haunt the area. I offer my arcane services--meager though they be--to help with this endeavor."
Name: Yuu Zhang
Race: Human (Neutral)
Background: Yuu comes from a family of established monster hunters that originated in the holy nation of Tianjing. A few generations back the family and others from Tian Xia (including the Kaijutsu family) moved to Sandpoint for various reasons. The monster hunters set up shop in Sandpoint and quickly became renown for their dedication for hunting the undead. Yuu carries on the tradition proudly (even if he doesn't act like it) and has been travelling around the world with various undead hunters killing everything from zombies to evil outsiders. Coming home due to the death of his grandfather (seemingly due to old age) for the ceremonial picking of the next family head, Yuu hears the rumors of the recent attacks. Seeing it as his job, a paycheck, and a way to help improve the local standing of his family all rolled into one he flipantly offered his services to anyone going after the attacks.
Personality: Yuu was at first resentful of the family's occupation that had been pushed on to him. But then he learned to enjoy the job of hunting abominations(and the protection of innocent lives even if he would never admit it). He tends to act like a smartass and more than one employer has described him as "insolent" or "impudent" but all have grudgingly admitted that he is one of the best monster hunters out there. Yuu tends to deflect the hard questions with humor but all of his friends know that he holds family above all else. Whenever he tries to act all dark and mysterious, it tends to backfire on him.
Angus McDarrow sighs as another day's work comes to an end and wearily shuts and locks the door to the temple. As he walks towards his private quarters, extinguishing the temple's candles as he goes, he notices that his door is wide open. The recent attacks swirl to the front of his mind and Angus draws his weapon and steps quickly into the room prepared for anything.
The first thing he notices is the man sitting at his desk, feet on the table, cleaning his crossbow. "Who are you and what do you want?" Angus growls pointing his weapon at the intruder. The man chuckles and snaps a bolt into his crossbow. "My name isn't important but I hear you have a little monster problem and I'm the best problem solver this side of the Wall of Heaven. So if you want your abominations gone, you're going to need my help".
Angus lowers his weapon and squints at the man in recognition "I know you... you're the Zhang's eldest." He smiles as he puts away his weapon. "I remember you from the time your mother caught you trying to steal the mayor's jewelry." His smile grows even broader as he recalls that particular event. "Your mother dressed you up as a little girl and paraded you around the village as punishment."
The mirth quickly disappears from Yuu's face and is replaced by a scowl.
Adriel's fluff and crunch is done. Just need to add a familiar and RP post.
Just so there's an alternative if you prefer Weren Wu Jen's sorcerer,
He's an Inquisitor of Gorum with Really high saves and a bad temper.
Currently 3rd level ,so he'll need to be scaled back.
I'll do it later. Gotta get of this computer...
Thanks STR, but I'd prefer 1 entry per person. It's not that I don't like Duncan, its just I want everyone to have a chance. That being said here's the list after day 1:
Adriel Mistleaf(Elf, Male Witch?!)
I like the entries so far! Keep them coming.
No worries. I only posted Duncan because thus far I haven't played a witch or an Inquisitor in PbP, I didn't want to run Adriel vs Weren for the Arcane spot amd I noticed that at tjat point no one had submitted a Divine Caster.
I hate to see anyone miss out in PbP (these recruitment threads cam get alot of submissions)
No worries. I only posted Duncan because thus far I haven't played a witch or an Inquisitor in PbP, I didn't want to run Adriel vs Weren for the Arcane spot amd I noticed that at tjat point no one had submitted a Divine Caster.
I hate to see anyone miss out in PbP (these recruitment threads cam get alot of submissions)
It's cool, trust me in a world with evil, there will be divine intervention. If you know what I mean ;)
Personality: Right now, he is a lost soul. Both parents recently killed and only new in discovering his powers, Adriel does not know where to turn. At one time there might have been some good in his misguided heart. To feel anything just hurts to much right now.
RP Sample: He wasn't sure how he got there. Tired. Hungry. Angry. Somehow he had come to the temple, to the shrine of Erastil , his fathers god. Hearing a rather heated argument, something about local deaths and wolves? At that point Adriel didn't care. His pain went away when he'd killed those goblins. That was all he wanted to feel right now: numb.
He approaches the paladin, Sir Knight?, If you intend to hunt your monsters, you'll need my help. I have lived in these woods my whole life and I am...., we'll he wasn't sure. I am Druid trained. My powers can help you.
More than half a century ago, in the Dwarven sky citadel Janderhoff, a sturdy young Dwarven lad stood side by side with other children his age in front of a large gathering of Dwarves in a magnificent structure marked with the beautiful precision that could only be achieved by Dwarven craftsmanship. A holy day was being celebrated.
"Step forward and be anointed into the covenant of Torag, Father of Dwarvenkind.", A man spoke to the group of children and also to the gathering before him in the hall.
The young Dwarven lad waited patiently as the man, dressed in vestments bearing the holy symbols of Torag, marked a symbol above each child standing in the procession. After it was over, the young lad said his goodbyes to his family and went with the holy man.
As the group of children followed the man, other clerics came and separated the children, showing each of them to their new quarters where they would spend the next 50 years studying the scripture and learning the lessons of Torag and his family of gods.
"Step forward and be confirmed into the covenant of Torag, Father of Dwarvenkind, Yolk.", A man spoke to a small gathering of men in a private altar room below a cathedral.
The sturdy young Dwarven lad, now a thin (for dwarven standards), middle-aged man bearing a long grey beard parted in the middle, each beard tip had fastened a polished silver clasp that the beard ran through in intricately woven braids. His brown eyes were flashing with life and a keen sense of interest painted his face as he moved forward, obeying the command.
The man, dressed in holy vestments, circled around Yolk holding a thurible that was wafting small tendrils of smoke. The smoke enveloped Yolk's body as the man continued to walk. Standing in front of Yolk the man stopped and raised his hand. Putting his hand on Yolk's forehead, he said,
"You are a man of god now Yolk, your duty now is to the people, venture forth and leave Janderhoff to discover your history and lineage. May your pilgrimage be guided by Torag." The man crossed the mark of Torag on Yolk's forehead and the small gathering moved forward to embrace Yolk.
Yolk endured the beginning of his pilgrimage, much of the world was new to him and as so, was fraught with many pitfalls along the way. Many nights since leaving Janderhoff had been cold with little to eat. Not being a survivalist, Yolk began to travel from town to town offering his services in trade for room and food; blessing crops, overseeing the vows of marriage for people, amongst other things.
Having made it as far as Sandpoint, the acrid smell of brine filled his nose and he realized that he had made it to sea. Setting off into the town, Yolk the Pilgrim tasked himself with the duty of providing services to the townsfolk residing in Sandpoint.
Yolk is bolstered by his faith and is very proud of his Dwarven heritage. Being born in Janderhoff his hometown harbors many of the Dwarves of the region but because of his isolation and studies he didn't develop any resistance to go and meet people of other races and is therefore very approachable.
He has an obsession for historical battles, mainly ones involving Giants and Goblins, because of his races hate for these creatures.
RP Sample: Approaching the bridge leading west into the city of Sandpoint, Yolk nods in acknowledgement as he begins to pass one of the local militia standing guard. The man standing guard responds back with a quick, scrutinizing glance, and assumes his post. It is not much to read in to, but Yolk could tell that the rumors he had heard along the road from people who had left Sandpoint and were moving on, of attacks breaking out around the region, held glimmers of truth judging by this guards state of unease and his commitment to the post.
"Excuse me, Sir?" Yolk inquires, standing with an open posture.
"Aye?" The guard grunts.
"I wish to view one of your temples, a temple of Erastil, but I don't know your town. Perhaps you could enlighten me with the directions to it?" Yolk tries his best to be jovial, hoping the guard won't ignore him and shuffle him past.
"Just keep going past the bridge and you can't miss it." The guard grunts.
Bowing hastily and shuffling his feet past the guard, Yolk walked across the bridge leading into town while recollecting a peculiar rumor which had stuck out in his mind from the night past. A man he had shared a fire with alongside the road told Yolk of a nasty rumor where people were attacked by Vampires and Werewolves, he claimed his source of this rumor was from a man named Angus McDarrow, a Paladin of Erastil.
As the guard had said, the temple was easy to find, Yolk walked unmitigated into the temple.
Angus McDarrow sensed a particularly powerful aura emanating from the short, slightly rotund, grey-bearded fellow and proceeded to greet him.
"Hail Dwarf. You come in strange times, I sense the divine presence in you." Angus admitted.
Bowing fomally, Yolk replied, "I am Yolk, I am a pilgrim of Torag and have happened upon your village by mere circumstance, but that doesn't mean I am ignorant to your plight."
"The name's Angus McDarrow, well met, now please continue with what you were about to say." Angus remarked.
"A man I had shared a meal with this past night had spoken of rumors of attacks, a dark rumor. Walking past the guards on the way into the town, I could sense the guard was on vigil and something seemed... tense, about him." Angus blanched seemingly unaware of his doing so, Yolk hesitated only a moment and continued. "I would presume that the rumors are true? Through the guided protection and glory of Torag it would be of great honor if I could be part of exorcising these unholy abominations from the region.."
I think this might be a long shot, but I got inspired :)
I don't know enough about the campaign to know if a Dhampir Undead Lord Undead Hunter is an interesting twist or unworkable. I normally avoid clerics of concepts, but I think all the possible undeath gods are unworkable.
Alignment wise I have him as being a fairly nice guy with his friends, arrogant and uncaring of "chattel" and a ruthless bastard with a strong code of honour to his enemies. Somewhere around LN to LE depending on what he's been doing more of this week...
Name: Arasmes, son of Izora, daughter of Kemnebi - goes by Arasmes Kemnebi
Class: Cleric (Undead Lord) of the Concept of Undeath
Arasmes is minor nobility in Geb, and as such has a duty to Geb. He fulfills that duty by helping to maintain the Dead Laws, following in the footsteps of his mother the Vampire Izora. He helps to track down those dead who break the Dead Laws and go rogue. Currently he is tracking down a rogue vampire. (Obviously he doesn’t expect to take it down by himself, he would call for backup... but if he can bring it down without calling in his mother it would be a significant feather in his cap.) He has been tracking the rogue for six months now, and some signs pointed to the rogue coming through Sandpoint, and no indication that it left. People are distrustful of him here, and he could really use some allies, friends, or at least good PR.
Arasmes is loyal to friends and family. He is true to his word. He delights in decadence in his free time, but is disciplined when on duty. Arasmes strongly believes in Geb, and has a tendency to think most people outside of Geb are too soft, especially on those he thinks of as Chattel. Still, he does his best to respect the law and customs of the regions he enters, even when they are obviously inferior to Geb.
“Unbelievable” muttered Arasmes as he walked towards the temple “Refusing to serve ME breakfast because they think I’m a vampire JUST because I come from Geb. What Vampire is going to sit in the sun eating breakfast?”
Squinting in the morning sun despite his wide brimmed hat Arasmes reached the door, knocked politely once in deference to local customs, and walked in. Suppresing an involuntary shiver at the unmistakable aura of consecration he pushed politely past a few other people in his way until he found the man who matched the description he had been given.
“Angus McDarrow? I’m Arasmes Kemnebi.”
He waited for the paladin to recognise his name, then sighed when it became obvious this yokel had never even heard of Kemnebi.
“Sir, the local people have informed me you believe these recent incidents might be the work of a rogue vampire. As it happens I have been tracking a rogue vampire who I think may be in this area.”
Arasmes blinked once, considering. What the hell, might as well be up front.
“I have been tracking him from Mechitar, but he seems to have gone to ground around here. I need you to explain everything that led you to believe this might be a vampire. It’s possible this could be the rogue I’m tracking, or that he could have started spawning a brood to defend himself.”
Presenting Galrian Sho´Ray, an faithful cleric of Shelyn. He is quite old character from another campaign and needs some modification for this game but otherwise, hoping he is good to go.
Name: Golrian Sho´Ray
Class: Cleric (Shelyn)
Story: Moving as he sees fit, he has heard of a rumor about a wondrous relic dedicated to Shelyn in a form of painting or a relic... what truly makes it interesting is the fact that it holds both the Shelyn and his brother, Zon-Kuthon.
Personality: His appearance has been affected alot by his journeys and activities. White hair with blue eyes along white beard, Height around 5 feet 6 in, skin tanned from the sun and freshing breeze around him almost all the time is like magical. His body still quite young looking although it is visible that he is now in his middle-age. Personality and appearance of that older man with smile resembling easily your grandpa. He is a free-spirited old man already who has seen more than necessary. Smiling and gentle to those younger than him, generous with young children and strong supporter of artist... and flirtatious with women, regardless of their age, ready to offer a glass of wine and discuss the joys of life and listening the worries next to the fire
RP sample: Going through the piles of artwork and shelfs inside the Sandpoint Boutique, Galrian is more than a bit disappointed. Again a false rumor and long journey to this town to find that the whole trip was for nothing. Sighing and giving fast look around he had to admit though that some of the artworks were decent.
Excusing himself and leaving the shop, he started to walk back to his lodging place. Couple of days had gone and nothing was found. However, even though the rumors about the painting was false as it seemed to be he had come across something else. The topic in the in about the local paladin of Erastil, Angus McDarrow and his story about happenings here. Attacks of vampires and werewolves.... something odd was going on here. Another adventure for you to participate and stories to tell ladies, my lad! thinking to himself and laughing it off But something I should not overlook... Evil seems to be in move although have to find out and make sure of it. Might be good idea to go and visit the paladin Galrian pondered as he scratched his beard
For as long as he could remember Soaren's gaze has been set toward the distant sky, a habbit first learned traveling with his friend and again later with Sable Company. Soaren has two dreams the first is to one day fight along side Talewin against the forces of evil, an unlikly possability considering Talewin would still be considered quite "young". The second is to build a home close to the sky where all whom live there can be at peace safely away from the evils of the world. As a Paladin Soaren offers prayers to many of the goodly gods but none more than Erastil, he even carrys a hand carved Holy symbol of Old Dead-Eye. Soarens passion has always been to travel even now that feeling is alive and well in his heart, but now something greater calls for him, and he intends to listen.
When Soaren's journey was begining shortly after setting out on his own he came across the fine town of Sandpoint. There he meet the most amazing people he had ever encountered , their bravery and prowess astonished him. One man in particular had an awe inspiring presence, his leadership and mastry of battle gave a new purpose to the boys life. Although Soaren never spoke to them he made an oath to someday return and repay thwe town for their part in Soarens decision to become something greater than be was. Now nearly 10 years later he stands in the center of town once again. Some disturbing news offers him an opportunity to fulfll that oath, a possability that both excites and worries him.
After a deep breath he pulled up his scarf against the cold wind and set to find the inn for some much needed food and rest, he had pulled an allnighter to get here early and his tired feet ached for rest. He was infact so tired it seemed to him that he had just passed a relatively normal man speaking to no one in particular. The towns population had grown much over the years and he had a little difficulty finding the inn he was searching for. After a quick chat with a foreign looking woman that seemed strangly familair he paid his due ate and promply went to bed, with plans for the morning to seek out Angus after breakfast and prayer, he wasn't quite sure if he was going to offer the whole story or not but that could wait till tomorrow.
Stats/gear have some work yet but overall 90% done.
Just to add a fast note, (thanks to a helpful message), that I did apply with an old character from a previous game, which has ended. I made the changes for stats..etc just to make it more "appealing" for this game. It´s ok for most part but still need some shaping, which I will consider for later date
Aluar was born in a small village with a terrible history. At least, that is what he was told by the priest's of Pharasma who raised him. Found as a small boy on the cusp of death and un-death, surrounded by a village fallen to the undead.
He spent his life learning about the Lady of the Grave, and the abomination which he had almost become. He would carry the scar of the Wight's touch forever, his right eye charred, a strange red glow showing as a small pupil within. The Veil, forever within his sight now.
]At times he would see the spirits of the dead as they passed over. A fleeting glimpse here and there. A strange sensation when spirits were present, or a foul foreboding when undead were near.
Now at 24, trained in the ways of his saviors, he sets out to do the biding of Pharasma. For death is every where, and so must Pharasma's agents be.
Aluar is consumed by his faith. Having spent most of his time among the dead and hunting the undead, he can seem a bit brusque and strange to the living. He is slow to judge others, treating all with equality be they high or low, for it is not his place but that of The Lady of the Grave, whom he serves.
He shows an unusual kindness to new life of any form, and will defend the adolescent who have yet to reach maturity.
The man who's name was Aluar, unbeknownst to him, strode purposefully down the twilight darkened road running through Sandpoint. He did not notice the few people still out at this hour moving hurriedly to avoid his poorly concealed face. He would usually take more care in covering it, the less it was seen, the less people feared him, the less they looked at him as if he were the monsters he hunted and the less they judged him for what they did not know.
His eye smoldered with his mood.
That makes... Glancing down at his hands holding a piece of silver in the shape of an outward spiral, he marks another line in to the metal near the center to accompany the others, ...six now, in the last two weeks, all children. The numbers are escalating and I have no answers. Replacing the silver spiral to its place on the left sleeve of his coat, the man named Aluar walks on. He was coming from observing his last funeral rites of the day. Something he does more frequently now after arriving in the city a month and three days ago. His visions were correct and death was heavy on the land of Virisia. The spirits his right eye glimpsed had led him to Sandpoint and it seemed as if they were correct. More death was to come, the influences of Pharasma were needed here gravely.
Perhaps this knight of plow shears really knows something. The man named Aluar raises his hand to knock upon the door where Angus McDarrow was said to live, knocks twice loudly, and waits impatiently for an answer.
So, it's stull technically friday. Please consider my entry.
Varland, human sorcerer: Protean (anarchic) bloodline.
Alignment: Trying to decide what describes him best. Will probably be N or LN to start. May change if appropriate.
Varland was born on a farm several miles outside the main body of Sandpoint. His parents were staunch followers of Abadar, and Varland was raised to be the same. A he grew, he controlled his childish urges, and when he failed to do so he was punished. Eventually, Varland was the epitome of a lawful, rule-abiding citizen. Inside, however, his very essence resisted this. Varland's inner drive compelled him to break rules and cause chaos whenever possible. The strict, constant discipline of his parents was enough to overpower these sinful urges, and eventually Varland developed his own system of self-punishment. When he would give in to his chaotic nature, Varland would give himself a series of painful lashes across his back. At some point, Varland began to intentionally surrender to his base desires, rationalizing his actions away with the knowledge that he would punish himself for them later. One instance broke this fragile balance, and since then Varland's life has changed drastically.
When Varland was seventeen, his entire family came to his home to celebrate a feast in Abadar's honor. Varland's grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins had all crammed in to the small farmhouse in which he and his parents lived and began to prepare the table for the meal. Varland aided his pretty cousin, Avana, in making a simple pudding dish intended for dessert. He had always enjoyed Avana's company. She knew nothing of his hidden desires for madness and change, as his shame was too great to share them with any in his family. She was an exemplary follower of Abadar; she had a strict daily schedule that she followed perfectly. She prayed, ate, worked, and slept all according to a family tradition intended to honor the glory of law. As they prepared the dish, they laughed and played and flirted. When her parents shot her a threatening glance, indicating she was being immodest, they quickly quieted down and resumed working. Varland planned several lashes for the violation of proper behavior.
As dinner began, Varland was seated across from Avana. He was asked to give the prayer of thanksgiving to Abadar, an honor he rarely received. The dinner was formal and nearly silent. Near the end, Avana's father spoke. "We have an announcement. After speaking with Varland's parents, a dower has been agreed upon and Avana and Varland are to be wed." Avana was ecstatic. She smiled broadly, but restrained from overly celebrating. Varland, too, seemed happy. It was soon stated the wedding was to be in two days.
As Varland prepared, doubts filled his mind. He looked at the life he was living. After this marriage, everything would be finalized. He and Avana would raise children just like himself. They would be strict, controlling, and proper. The more he though about it, the more disgusted he became. This disgust led to confusion; an inner turmoil Varland had long refused to face. He looked in the simple, polished piece of tin that he had for a mirror. What he saw terrified him. His reflection was not of a farmboy preparing for his wedding. It looked nothing like him, yet Varland recognized himself. All around him were swirling forms. They whispered chaos and insanity into his ear. Dropping the mirror in terror, Varland stepped back from what he had seen and into a gaping hole that had opened in the floor behind him. He fell for hours, or seconds; time seemed meaningless. He landed without stopping or touching anything and found himself in a maddening maelstrom of shapes and colors.
In front of him floated an imentesh protean. The ambassador of chaos began to articulate in a cool and loquacious manner. "Hello, our chaos seed. I've waited for their thoughts and shapes to align so you could enter the lifeworld. Years from now, I entered the equal realm and found a family of law lovers. I changed my shape to theirs and we lived among them. The presence alone was enough, I could taste you coming. So I returned and waited. And now you have the freedom to escape from them! Thank you, child."
Varland's eyes shot open. He was standing in front of Avana. He looked around, confused. It was his wedding. It was the pivotal moment. Everything was quiet, everyone was expectant. It was his turn to speak. When he tried, his mouth could not form words. Only sounds of incomprehensible chaos emerged. Varland's family began to scream in terror. Acid burst out of his father's eyes. The priest presiding over the wedding froze solid and began to float through the air. Avana grew to twice her normal size. One of the family pigs stood on its hind legs and began to politely ask for directions to the nearest gallows. Varland was terrified and he sensed that whatever was happening was flowing out of his own mind and soul. He fled the scene amid the chaos.
Varland entered Sandpoint dirty and shaken two hours later. He had grabbed a small satchel of gold, his parents' savings, as well as several personal objects and purchased a room in an inn. He sat in the bed, unable to think. He looked through what he had in his bag: the dull mirror, a simple wooden carving of Abadar's holy symbol, a potato, the gold, and something he had never seen before. It was brilliant, multi-colored serpent, only a few inches long, made of some beautiful gemstone that seemed to shift color as the light from his candle flickered through it.
Varland is a young man trying to come to terms with the startling revelation that his adolescence of law and order was a façade made impossible by protean blood running through his veins. He struggles to find where the balance between law and chaos lies. He is quick to act on his lawful inclinations; at the same time, he's slowly coming to grips with the idea that things may need to change and he may be just the person to make that happen. He's deeply conflicted, but avoids burdening others with his dilemmas due to a strong streak of self-reliance instilled during a childhood of hard work and discipline. Varland is capable of being outgoing and charismatic, but he often finds himself sitting quietly by and watching, trying to learn from other people's actions. He believed strongly that people are responsible for their own problems for all of his life, but recent events have made him question this line of thought. He spends much of spare time trying to control his magical talent, but his training often backfires under systematic practice.
Varland walked through the streets of Sandpoint. He had rarely visited here as a child because his parents thought it was a decadent and corrupt collection of terrible people. He watched curiously as a gnome swindled several humans into buying his elixirs of eternal life while a halfling child, barely a foot tall, stole coins from the gnome's bag. Despite Varland's recent and dramatic discovery of his magical talent and its chaotic heritage, he was still trying to be a citizen committed to upholding the rule of law. Walking quickly past the charlatan and his clueless customers, Varland grabbed the tiny boy, who reacted with a yelp and a futile attempt to escape. The people in the street turned and looked at Varland. While he expected understanding and approval, it was quickly turning to anger and indignation.
A human woman angrily spoke up. "What are you doing with that innocent little child?"
Varland confidently replied, "This child is no innocent; he was pilfering coins from this colorful merchant here."
The indicated gnome looked about helplessly, searching for sympathy. He turned to Varland and said, "Oh, well... Thank you I suppose. There will be no need for this, though. Let the boy go."
Varland was baffled. "What do you mean? He stole from you, he deserves to punished to the full extent of the law!" People in the crowd were becoming visibly outraged, and several men took threatening poses. Exasperated, Varland let the child go. The boy returned the coins to the merchant. While the crowd was still watching, the gnome made a show of returning the coins to boy had taken and more. Soon, people began to crowd around as he started selling another product of his, a special charm guaranteed to bring luck and wealth to any who held it.
After the crowd dispersed, the gnome sought out his would-be crimestopper. "Listen, boy. I'm gonna give you a piece of advice. Sometimes, when an orphan boy takes coins so he can get some scraps of food, you let him. Even if it's against the law. There are a lot more important things than rules."
That night, Varland laid in his rented room and thought about what the gnome had said. Fourteen days had passed since leaving home. Varland needed to figure out what mattered, and he was starting to realize it would take a lot longer than a fortnight in a city away from home. He thought of a paladin he had heard about, supposedly a slayer of beasts and monsters who knew the solution to some attacks the city had suffered. Varland knew that a paladin, an examplar of justice, would be a good person to learn from about the importance of law. It would also be a good a chance to practice his magic if the paladin needed help; secretly, Varland yearned for adventure and freedom.
When he awoke the next morning, Varland set out to find the paladin, named McDarrow. Varland went to one of the few people in the coty he had actually spoken to: the gnome merchant. The odd little man was peddling his wares to a group of old women. Varland approached and asked where the paladin McDarrow could be found. The gnome looked at him with annoyance and pity, and indicated him to the temple of Iomedae. Varland had found the solution to his predicament.
EDIT: Oh, poop, I did the roleplay sample wrong. I'll post another. If it's not before midnight please don't exclude me.
EDIT II: Fixed. I hope you allow me to join your campaign.