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I'll submit a last minute infernal sorcerer for consideration Mary-Anne Bosworth, Infernal sorceress The Backgound:
Witch! Witch! Witch! She still recalled the chanting crowd as the witch hunters of Mitra had dragged her from her house one evening. The hate painted in her husband’s face as he stood there holding their baby was just as clear in her mind. Had he not been satisfied, when her powers had helped them? Ungrateful, lying bastard. She had been testing the limit of her powers, trying to summon something, when they had kicked down her door. At first she had been scared, pleading for her life as they chained her. She remembered sobbing to their leader: Good sir, please let me go. I did not intend to hurt anyone, I was merely trying to summon a servant of Mitra. A lie of course she didn’t care what had answered her calling as long as it served her. There must be some sort of mistake I am no witch, I am a humble servant of Mitra, using what the god has seen fit to bestow upon me. Not a lie per say, I could have been Mitra, who had given her the gifts, but she doubted that. Finally it had been enough for him and he had hit her hard with a mailed fist. Be quiet servant of darkness, he had hissed before they had gagged her. Chained and gapped that was how they had presented her to the court, which had convicted her and how she had been brought to Branderscar
Personality, thoughts behind the character:
I imagine her as an infernal sorcerer, not fully aware of the origin of her powers. She would start her background as neutral and slip towards neutral evil due to her arrest and hatred of her husband and the community. She had a selfish streak before her powers erupted, this has just enhanced that tendency. I have rolled stats earlier, I can reuse them though I would need to rearrange focus and fobi or roll a new set.
When Tykk reach the top of the stairs he look at a guard shaken from his threat weapon drawn ready for action.
Looking past the girl Nadine see a tower of a man. He moves up behind the girl to look at the commmotion, shocked he shakes the girl. "Irena, come on run."
Round 2 begin
Having read your reference posts I am going to withdraw, my character wouldn't fit in the way I envision him. Thanks for your time.
Please describe your plan to me before we move on. You know from earlier on that the guards don't walk in to the cells together, one always stays behind ready to sound the alarm. Grumblejacks cell is open with bar as wall, not as open as yours but still open, one could try to hide in the corner closest to the door.
With a loud slam the trap door fall shut and Drogan quickly blots it shut. You can hear the surprised and angry voices from below and soon after the insistent hammering of weapons.
Could a human fighter, sword and board, with a background like the one below be an option? I realise that the background might need some changing and I am thinking about involving the cardinal in it. Further more he has the High Treason trait but somehow it doesn't sit well with me and the background. Background:
The mumbling rose as people gathered in the great hall of Ghastenhall. On the front row two old men sat side-by-side, they had arrived early to secure good seats. “Have you heard?” one asked the other. “Heard what?” he replied, raising his voice to be heard. “The butcher’s Mary says, that it is magistrate Mòr’s son,” the first one answered. “Who?” was the response. “You see the those two over there. The woman crying and the man besides her?” The first one pointed at a small crying woman and her shocked husband both well dressed. Suddenly the mumblings died and everyone rose as Ghastenhall’s magistrate ascended his bench. “Bailiff, present the accused,” he bellowed shutting up the last of the mob. The bailiff walked in with a man in manacles. “My Lord, I bring before you Harold Mòr accused of high treason,” the bailiff proclaimed. “Very well bailiff, begin the proceedings,” the magistrate ordered. “I call the first witness Sir Percival Barca to the stand,” the bailiff’s loud voice announced. A young noble made his way through the crowd. “Your Honour, I am Sir Percival Barca, officer in the Talingarde army,” the blond half-elf said and continued: “It came to my attention that officer Mòr was planning to assassinate of our beloved king, when he approached me and asked for my participation in the nefarious plot.” A murmur passed through the crowd as they realized what had been said. “Elaborate,” was the magistrate’s only response. “Approximately a fortnight ago, after fencing practice officer Mòr pulled me aside and asked me to join him later. Over dinner in his quarters he asked me aid him in an assassination attempt during his Majesties next visit. I do not understand why he betrayed the king or asked me to participate.” The looked directly at the prisoner as he finished his statement. “Thank you Sir Percival. Bailiff the next witness,” the magistrate ordered. “Very well your Honour. Sir Balin of Karfeld please step forward,” the bailiff responded. The famous witch hunter made his way to the open space in front of the magistrate. “Sir Balin, it is an honour having you here. How are you involved in a charge of high treason?” The magistrate asked clearly a little surprised. The seasoned hero of Talingarde cleared his throat and replied: “Your Honour upon arrest it was discovered, that the accused worshiped The Enemy and I was called in. I found the vile equivalent to Mitra’s holy text in his quarters; this and interrogations has led me to believe that he is in fact a priest of The Enemy.” There was total silence as the witch hunter’s words settled in the minds of the spectators, reflexively they moved away from the man in chains. “Thanks you Sir Balin. May Mitra protect you as you protect Talingarde,” the magistrate said. As soon as Sir Balin stepped away from the bench magistrate Mòr made his way from the front rows. He pleaded: “Your Honour, I implore you, be merciful. I know what my son did is unforgivable. He served well in the army, he always wanted to served, even as a child when he had his first fencing lesson. It was an unhealthy fascination with his ancestry, which sparked this. He believes we descend from an ancient line of kings and as such should have power. I do not know, why he turned away from the true faith, but it happened during this insane quest…” The old man’s words just fade out. The presiding magistrate looked at his colleague with sadness and sincerity, he answered in a varm voice: “You know as well as I do, that I can not show your son mercy old friend.” Sir Balin stepped up to magistrate Mòr, put his hand around his shoulder and led him away while saying: “Come with me, there is nothing you can do now.” He added low enough so only magistrate Mòr could hear: “You did the right thing calling me in, Mitra might forgive your son.” As the magistrate pronounced the sentence, Harold Mòr looked up for the first time during the proceedings, hate burning in his eyes. In a loud coarse voice he cursed the people of Ghastenhall: “Fools, you believe yourself safe but by the powers of my lord Asmodeus, I promise you that Talingarde will fall.”
Appearance:
Age: 21 (Adult) Size: Medium, 5'9", 196 lbs Type: Humanoid (Human) This heavyset young man is dressed in rags. He is about the average height of a Talingarde citizen with unruly dark hair and stubs from not shaving in weeks. Heavy brows crowns his grey/green eyes, separated by a large nose. The nose looks as if it is broken. In the holes of the rags wounds of different date appears and a runic F is branded on his left forearm.
There isn't much cover to come by in the landscape but Reknar and joran manages in unison to find a decent spot after moving a bit of snow around.
"Was that a horn?" a high pitched voices asks. "Shut up Guy." a harsh voice replies. Over the sound of moving furniture you can hear what you guess is 4 voices in total.
Nadine's dark magic drains all energy from her victim and the woman stands in the door opening dazed. Robert is somehow unable to grapple her.
A sound catches Thomas attention, it is the sound of a door opening. quickly moving the few paces to the door of the barracks, he looks across the mess hall into the eyes of a terrified young woman, who is staring at the small party, she knows they are not guards.
Initiative:
Dices:
Opening your inner eye to the auras of the faithful you are met with a most peculiar response, none here are shining nor are they cloaked in shadows.
As expected a window forms in the wall and Orodreth makes it through. Above you can here the uttering of a surprised guard as he is suddenly gone. Looking around you find yourself in a large room, it is the entire floor. In front of you are are stairs leading to the roof and floor below. You hear some commotion from the closest stairs, they are from the room where Blackerley should be.
Here is my first pitch, let me know if the crunch is okay and the story isn't breaking canon. Crunch:
Solomon Ellor Medium Human noble 3/soldier 2 Force 7; Darkside 0 Init +10; Senses Perception +9 Languages Basic, Durese, High Galactic, Military Sign, Mon Calamarian, Shyriiwook -------------------- Defences Ref 19, Fort 18, Will 19 Hp 39; Threshold 18 -------------------- Speed 6 squares Melee +4 Ranged +7 Base Atk +4; Grp -------------------- Abilities Str 10, Dex 16, Con 12, Int 14, Wis 14, Cha 14 Talents Born leader, Distant command, Indomitable Feats Armour proficiency (light), Extra second wind, Linguist, Point blank shot, Precise shot, Vehicular combat, Weapon proficiency (advanced melee weapons, pistols, rifles, simple weapons Skills Gather information +9, Initiative +10, Knowledge (Bureaucracy) +9, Knowledge (Physical science) +9, Knowledge (Tactics) +9, Perception +9, Persuasion +9, Pilot +10, Treat injury +9, Use computer +9 Possesions
Appearance:
The interview:
Why is the character joining the navy? Fascinated with the ships of his home planet the young Solomon decided that his future was piloting a spaceship one day. Where were you born and raised?
Why are you loyal to the Empire?
Are they racist against other species? Sexist?
Do they have a particular hatred of the New Republic?
As a fifth level character, and an officer (You must be an officer to fly),
Focussing on the ogre you see dark lines on his body, his veins filled with poison. The darkest colours are over the largest muscles. You recognise this pattern, it is from the belladonna plant, know to sap the target of his strength.
You are if you want to be it is not important, but I could see the potential in not being for later roleplaying opportunities.
If you are still open for recruitment, I would like to apply. I only have the saga core book and have never played star wars before. I am thinking about a human male career officer going officer or ace pilot.
I am not sure what Charter is but I am guessing your ISP. No problem let me know when it is back up until then we might gmpc you as needed, if you are okay with that. This might be a good time to discus how we should handle gmpc'ing. Personally I like when another players controls the pc instead of the gm. First reason less work for me :D Second reason as players you have a better understanding of the encounter from your perspective, put simply I have peaked behind the curtain and know to much.
The latest of Vank's enemies seems to be more of a challenge than the others, if you can call a man fleeing for his life that. When the poor sod finally has his blade in hand Vank strikes from behind crushing his skull in. When Stanislav enters the Thomas is still by the bed blood beginning to flow unto the floor and Vank is covered in a red pulp.
Grumblejack suddenly stops his advance as Tin touch alleviates some of the pain he is feeling, it doesn't improve his gait however and as you look closer Tin you see that the poison is still affecting him. You are now certain that you would need special herbs or more powerful magic to counter act the effect. You'll just have to let the poison run its course. The ogre seems pleased with your actions and whisper: "Thanks." And for a short while he has forgotten his intentions.
First everything is silent then a wet squishi sound followed by a clonk is heard, then comes the low surprised yells followed by another wet sound and a clonk.
By some miracle perhaps even divine intervention you are able to travel unaccustomed for the rest of the day. While the weather could have been better it is acceptable for this frozen hell. The sun isn't visible, heavy dark clouds cover the sky, a snow storm might be approaching, but for now it is not interfering with your travel. As night time approaches it is time to find a place to camp.
Thomas flurry of cuts drains the last life from the guard before him. Vank finished with his first target moves to his second and once again hits his target with his club though not as powerful this time and the man tries to move past Vank to his sword. He succeeds somehow as Vank's response fails to connect. End of Round 1
Grumblejack continues to awkward move towards the door, as he approaches he turns his gaze to Tin, he doesn't seem intent on harming her. Looking back at the ogre Tin notices the dilated pupils, this confirms her suspicion that the ogre is drugged, possibly by belladonna extract. letting her gaze wander down the ogre she notices several bruises of varying age.
One of the guards stir as the two assassins close in. Vank's club crushes the skull of one of the guards while Thomas somehow manages to miss that vital carotid artery. The pain rouses the guard from his sleep. The sound of this wakes the last sleeping guard. Initiative:
Dices:
The door to the ogre's cell silently clicks open and Slevin is able to swing the door open. The large beast moves surprisingly unsure on his feat as he walks towards freedom. He seems determined to head towards the door where Tin is listening. Tin:
"Wait was that a rat?" "Naah... It's nothing." “That Blackerly is a damned thief! That game was rigged last night!” “If it’s rigged, why do you keep going back to the gatehouse then?” “The beer’s passable.” A laugh is heard. “Drinkin’ on duty! Damn, this place has gone to hell. Captain Callidan would have never tolerated that crap. That’s for sure!” “Captain Callidan … he left, what? Two years ago?” “Almost three and since then the place has been straight down the s+#~ter. That old wizard never leaves his tower. He stays up there reading his books and petting his owl!” “Petting his owl? Is that what they call it these days?” The guards enjoy a bit of a laugh.
Even though the guards are aware they are helpless as you descend upon them. The guard in front first encounters Orodreth who pierces his right lung with his rapier. The only glimpse of hope is the guard with the horn who manages to resist the foul magic of Lyrysa. Randu adds yet another human trophy to his hunting record as his blow cut the throat of the front guard. Drogan charges past them and slams his mace into the skull of the second guard almost knocking him out. Tykk finishes the job and crushes the mans skull in. The noice however must have alerted someone as a horn signal pierces the night. It originates from the top of the gatehouse.
Dices:
Grumblejack follows you down the stairs more eager than ever to cause harm and revenge himself. He is not silent as he moves down the stairs and you have to keep him back as to not alert everyone of your escape. Clearly unsatisfied by this he stamps in the floor. "Grumblejack wants to smash little 'uns now!" he demands.
Times passes as Slevin frees you one by one. Slowly but surely a band of unchained prisoners are free to move around in their cell. While it is wonderful to be able to stretch ones legs once again it is still unsatisfying being lock in here and soon after you have regained your unrestricted movement Slevin has the cell door open. As the lock clicks and the door swing open the ogre to your right rumbles: "My door to or me roar."
The healing energies washes through Reknar clearing much of the damage his body suffered in the battle, though still leaving him somewhat depleted of strength. With this struggle mastered life in Irrisen moves on. There is not a sound to be heard in this snow covered hell you are trying to escape. The only migrating factors is the sun shining from a clear sky.
Recalling the way Vank and Thomas move like wraiths through the empty hall reaching the door on the right, silently the door slides open at Vank's first attempt. Slowly making glide into the room, inside they find themselves in a large room with tables and benches. On the eastern wall hangs a banner with the dreaded emblem of Branderscar embroidered. Turing left towards the door in the north end of the mess hall, they prepare themselves for what might be on the other side. This time Thomas sneaks the door open This room contains four beds, a dozen chests and 3 sleeping guards, their equipment neatly stacked on a chest each.
The escapees prepares to ambush the unsuspecting guards returning from the end of the battlements. However as they approach the tower Tykk moves a little to get into a better position unfortunately his weapon hits the stone wall and the sound echoes inside the tower in the silent night. The guards stops "What was that Boris?" one of them asks. Raising his lantern high and drawing his sword he closes in. "Be ready with the horn," he says as he cautiously approach the tower.
Intiative:
Dices rolled:
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