Thanks for the feedback.
Reformatted the profile to make it easier to take in.
Simplified the backstory with the idea of a level 1 character in mind, so the Pathfinder Society stuff hasn't happened.
As for why she wants to protect innocents, despite the environment she grew up in, despite all the darkness and ugliness she's seen, her dad's goal to make life better for the people he considered his responsibility, and the idea that those who can, should do what they can, to protect those who are otherwise defenseless has made its way into her psyche.
She is definitely a product of her environment, but instead of the darkness she's been around making her join it, it has instead hardened her enough to face it down.
Nice backstory, despite a few typos. What motivates Zalika, though? What holds her back from bounty-hunting? What hopes does she hold for the future? How does she view the orphans of Magnimar?
Backstory is scrapped and re-written. I thought of how interesting it would be if the character, having no voice, had no real 'concrete' backstory since no one could really know it. Let me know what you guys think. I'm not sure I like it, but I know I like it more than the last one.
As a level one character I don't imagine her being an adventurer-- she's not done very much in her life except for investigate the origins of her gift at several different churches and then return to Magnimar. Things are just starting out for her-- she doesn't really know her gift, and her skills aren't exactly sharp.
Ask me more questions. Sorry if that's a bother, but answering them makes me take a look back at the character really closely, and that's always appreciated.
Sigh, I had a post all typed up with comments for the rest of the applicants, and lost it. Expect one tomorrow, as well as replies to the replies.
Thanks, DM Degwyn.
Still have to buy equipment, but background and crunch is done. I'll add some more contacts to his background -- just ordinary folks he knows.
Has your character been on an adventure before now? Why did your character go adventuring?
In all honesty, Quiahar has been on adventures most of his adult life, ever since the death (murder) of his parents, he has had to flee for his own. The aasimar who raised him insured that he had all the skills he needed to survive in any land he should travel to, and even sent him to far off distant lands to prevent the powerful diabolists from finding him. Why they were after him, and why they killed his family, he doesn't know. But since then, life has been one adventure after another. Perhaps not of the very dangerous variety, but definitely keeping him on his toes and interested in the places he visits.
How did Garret become interested in collecting information? Is he drawn to one type of information over others? I tend to agree with your implication that his coming to Magnimar is a stretch; why Magnimar? It's quite a distance... what caused him to make the journey?
What's the significance of Quiahar's souvenir-collecting? That's a lot of adventuring for a level 1 to have done... why is he still only level 1? What significance does his dancing hold? What benefit did you choose to receive from Adopted?
Desmond is quite intelligent, and of average wisdom; what's the reason for his bumbling foolishness and denial? Does he really believe that his failures aren't his fault? What happened to the previous herbalist? How did Desmond "come into his power"?
How did Fredrico come to the attention of Cearnis? How did his parents feel about the association? Are his parents still alive and around? How old is he now? How does he imagine caravan life to be different from his current life?
I think that's everyone. Let me know if I missed someone... replies to the replies will be coming in a bit.
Just remember though I am not a hero type antiheros are funner in my mind.
Antiheroes are about as boring as you can get... and again, while I'm not the DM, I really don't see an antihero working with the rest of our group.
I believe I'm all caught up now!
61 years is a long time; what did Jubal experience during that time? Did he just live the "daily grind"? How does he deal with the Bleaching?
Never knew about the Bleaching. Thanks for pointing that aspect out. I modified the background accordingly.
I want to say that if the DM needs to tie their disappearance in to any running plot line, that'd be best. She likely hasn't found very many leads-- again, level 1. Her personal theory is that they were kidnapped by derro, sold as slaves by Nidalese pirates, taken to The Hells by the Magnimaran City Guard, left on a secret journey to protect a relic of Desna, told the wrong fortune and had to be "disappeared" by the people who heard it...
Right now, Zora needs help. It's difficult to get answers when you can't ask questions. The other characters are personable, talky people-- she'd rally behind them in a heartbeat if she thought that helping them would eventually turn around to helping herself. As a CG character, she hates to see injustice and hurt fall on people who don't deserve it. You have a paladin in your group. Their interest-- helping people-- likely aligns.
So, here's a bit of background on the character, before I begin statting him out. Not sure on race, but I am definitely thinking thinking a magus (bladebound/hexcrafter). His name? Tabansi.
As he grew in age, he began to see and hear strange things. To feel the draw of something in his heart and his mind that was not his own. His mother and father were both greatly worried by these developments, as the haunted look was never far from his eyes nor did the circles beneath his eyes ever lessen, and so they sent him to the local shaman.
Hours passed as he was subjected to ceremony after ceremony inside the shaman's hut. The sun was setting when the shaman preceded him from the hut. It was to be a long quest, the age weathered man said. There was a spirit that had chosen him and until Tabansi began the journey to speak with the spirit and to follow the goals of this spirit, he would not truly gain peace.
Heartbroken was the least of his family's thoughts. Their family was being ripped apart. The world was being turned upside, and all the shaman could tell them was that time and the spirits would decide when (or if) their son would return.
Taken under gear from his home deep in the jungles, he was given gear, food, weapon, and enough items worthy in trade to get him to the great city of Magnimar. His first night there, soon after entering the city, he saw a beast, feline & black as the night sky. Tabansi had thought of reporting it to the local guard, but who would believe an outlander that there was a great cat, a jaguar stalking the streets that no one else could see.
So what does he do now? Search for a “cure” to his poor sleep and find the spirit that has claimed him.
Thoughts?
"Heartbroken was the least of his family's thoughts." <-- The least? So they weren't heartbroken? What thoughts/feelings were they experiencing?
"Taken under gear from his home" <-- What do you mean by this?
How does Tabansi feel about this quest? Does he trust the shaman? Does he have any ideas about what the spirit wants from him? What would motivate him to journey/adventure with the rest of the party?
As far as the parents? They were heartbroken, but it wasn't as much that they were sad for him, but for how it was destroying everything for their family line. He's the only child, which I should have specified, so without him...well, the fate of his family's life in the jungle is unclear.
Tabansi is a bit unsure about the quest. He knows there are things going on that he doesn't understand, and the shaman is the only one who had answers. He has an inkling that it's one of the spirits that are part of his village's belief system (very much Aztec-y/meso-american), so it's possible that the cat he saw was a spirit (like the Aztec god of night that comes in the form of a jaguar).
His motivation to join and adventure would be that he is in a city that he truly knows no one in, and he would consider them family by spilled blood and common goals. Obviously those with knowledge of magic and various "curses", would be particularly of interest.
Maraiah's dad is retired, and while she has convinced him to move to a different part of the city, promising him that she'll keep an eye on things in the darker corners. He's proud of her, worried a bit but accepts that he can't stop her for doing dangerous things. Often if she needs advice or to get an idea of how to deal with a particularly difficult person, she'll go to him for advice.
What advice did the shaman give him, if any? What items was he permitted to take? Anything of particular value to him?
What advice was he given? The shaman told him that spirits make their presence known in their own time and aren't always seen. Typically they are only seen by those they have "touched" or that are sensitive. That he should be respectful to the spirit (and any other he experiences) because spirits are, in essence, beings that will never be mortal in the same way the villagers are.
He was allowed to take a blade that had belonged to his grandfather, who had fought to protect the village on multiple occasions and had defeated hostile spirits that are no longer spoken of. The sword (a steel terbutje) was acquired by unknown means. When he was young, his mother told him fantastical stories about his grandfather (and the blade) to get him to sleep, so anything from "falling from the heavens" to "given as a gift by an honor-bound elven merchant" could be true.
I don't usually use spoilers in my character profiles (Actually, I don't think I've ever done so), except for skill points and purchases. It helps me and most DMs I know (including myself) to be able to see everything at a glance. I have separated out the sections a little more with some visual elements to help keep things sorted, though if the GM asks for a different profile setup, I will of course oblige.
Thanks to his upbringing by the aasimar who adopted him, Quiahar has learned curiosity towards other cultures. In a way, Quiahar's collection of souvenirs is a search for who he is, who his parents were and their culture. He is searching for his own people, his own home, and finding the journey to be magnificently curious.
The primary reason that Quiahar is still only 1st level is because he has never been in one place long enough to develop any real skills or abilities. Now that one of his adoptive parents has died, pulling him back to Magnimar and its circle of influence, Quiahar has found the time to settle down and really investigate who his original parents were, and the circumstances of their death.
For Quiahar, dancing is poetry in motion, and as a child raised by aasimar he learned to enjoy both for the sake of beauty and goodness expressed. His travels taught him that dancing could express far more than this: love, sadness, desire, hate, and with a natural curiosity became enthralled with the art. He is beginning to remember (or thinks he remembers) his natural mother dancing with perfumes and silk scarves swirling around him. It is one of his earliest memories, and the only one he really has to identify where his parents came from. The style of music he remembers is definitely Varisian in nature.
Being adopted by the aasimar taught Quiahar one important thing, that one did not have to be limited in a perspective of what defines goodness as one pursues a mystical or ascetic connection with life. The ways of Golarion are many, and there is no specific way of following the path of righteousness. There is room for creativity, a difference in the structures of the paths of light; the law of the many is greater than the law of the one.
Garret's drive for gathering information comes from his desire to know things. Being able to sell information is just an added plus.
Paragraph breaks are your friend.Desmond is quite intelligent, and of average wisdom; what's the reason for his bumbling foolishness and denial? Does he really believe that his failures aren't his fault? What happened to the previous herbalist? How did Desmond "come into his power"?
Thanks, points well taken.
Desmond's back story was originally designed for a campaign where all the real hero's had gone off to confront some great evil and never returned leaving behind just the ordinary folk. The campaign was supposed to be strongly comedic so I designed Desmond as a bit of a bumbler. I gave him a quick makeover before I submitted him for this game but after reading your comments and looking him over decided to give him a more thorough edit. Actually less of an edit and more of a complete re-write.
Hopefully you'll find the new version to be a bit more realistic.
Oladon, you're not making things easy on our prospective DM are you? All the entries are going to be smoking hot by the time you're done!
Good comments. I'll upgrade Fredrico's backstory tonight.
I doubt I'll do much about cleaning up the format. It's a llittle cluttered right now, but all the math is there in plain sight if Degwyn wants to see it broken down.
Your background is light on how and why you got from the Dragon Empires to Magnimar. That is quite a journey in itself.
The adopted trait does give another race trait, therefore you are down one trait. I see the feats Additional Traits, and Weapon Finesse, one of which was replaced by Far Traveler. I do not see a proficiency with nine section whips (pending correction of the aforementioned feat issue). While you may use them with flurry of blows as a monk weapon, proficiency is not also conveyed.
Thanks for your responses.
Fredrico has been updated. He's got some cash left. I might do a little more shopping. Crunchy bits are otherwise done.
Cearnis Moonshadow was originally created as a mentor for another PC of mine. He is a Fagan-like elf, although a far more talented and active thief and well-intentioned teacher than Fagan. He feels a real sympathy for half-elves, especially the progeny of Forlorn elves, and wants to help them find their elvish roots. His proteges universally remember him with gratitude and are willing to do any number of favors for him. A very few join him in non-violent, discreet, and highly lucrative larceny.
Frederico is about 33. Most of his Varisian cousins and human friends from childhood are 40-50. His newer wizard friends tend to be in their twenties.
Frederico's daydreams of going away are more a symptom of a growing dissatisfaction with his life, rather than a strong desire or plan to go away.
I'll hit it again! I'll have a lot more clarity and creativity without the fever bogging me down.
Also she's not telepathic. Well, like, she is! but not like Jean Grey or Professor Xavier. It's going to be more like 'This person just gets me' and 'I strangely understand completely what you're trying to tell me' than 'Bwomwomwom Cyclops, Wolverine is in trouble! bwomwomwom'
Much improved! Why did he leave the village, though? Why not go back to his parents? Why go to Magnimar?
He's heading for Magnimar because that's where the campaign is taking place :-)
O.K. actually he's heading for the city because he believes in the family lore that he needs training. I see his real struggle, from a character point of view, will be staying NG despite his shadow bloodline. Training isn't going to help. It's more of a personal struggle
Describing him trudging out of town into the sunset was for dramatic effect. I'm sure he would have stopped by his parents farm to say goodbye and let them know that he had left his failed apprenticeship.
Apologies, Ebon, I seem to have missed you! I'll have a look and get back to you in the next few hours.
It's so surprising what not being sick can do for a person who's trying to use their brain.
If anything, you guys have really helped me out in finding a place for this character. I feel like I'm getting to better and better places.
Okay. Ready for everything that's wrong this time. Bring it.
OR.... thanks to your advice to reread the racial entry...
While corrupt aasimars may be loners or may establish secret societies to conceal their involvement in crime, righteous aasimars are often found congregating in numbers as part of good-aligned organizations, especially (though not always) churches and religious orders.
The adopted trait grants the Enlightened Warrior aasimar trait, which permits a neutral good alignment for monks.
The Wandering Monk ability Far Traveler (listed under Feats and Special Abilities) grants bonus exotic or melee weapon proficiency or an extra language known at 1st level, 4th level, and every 4 levels thereafter. In Quiahar's case, he learned to use the exotic nine-section whip.
As for traveling from the Dragon Empires, let me look at the maps and I'll get back to you. He mostly hitched rides where he was able, did common labor jobs to get enough food and drink and a place to rest his head. All of the good stuff that wandering monks do.
I feel like I'm getting to better and better places.
I concur.
Do you see him succeeding? What kind of struggle do you foresee?
I'm cheering for him. The struggles will be the ethical choices inherent to the campaign.
Err, sorry. I thought I had managed to finish the editing before people read it. :P I'll remember next time.
It's a cheerful morning in Magnimar. The breeze is light and airy coming off the ocean with promise of a pleasant day. You find yourself in the Bazaar of Sails. Your destination is before you. Two dusty windows flank the entry of the shop. The light inside is somewhat dim but you can make out several rows of shelves.
The sign over the door is written in several languages, though none are common. The name of the establishment is Burgstem's Assorted Acedemicals in Varisian, Kelish and Thassilonian.
Pushing though the door brings you into a small book shop. The front of the store is lined with several shelves tables, crates, all stacked with various books, scrolls, and parchments. The rich smell of paper and ink fills the air. Behind a counter stands an elderly human male with a monocle in one eye while he stares down at an open text before him while making notes on a pad.
The soft peal of gnomish laughter draws your attention to one side where you see two young women and one man, the smaller the source of the laughter as she converses with her companions. The other young woman is tall for human women, with long flowing red hair. She seems to be telling some story but the language keeps jumping between several languages. The young man has the tell tale markings of an Aasimar as he leans back against the wall chatting with his companions.
Why are you here?
Pen, ink and paper to draw a stack of 'Missing' posters. Probably here, more specifically, because this place is honestly a bit less mainstream-- if the sign isn't in Taldane, it's out of the way, and the Thassilonian title makes it a bit esoteric. Very unlikely to run into any stuck up colonials here who will take a 'isn't this poor soul from an inferior culture so darling' approach to interacting with a Varisian pauper who can't speak.
On top of that, Zora's the kind of person who is actively engaged in discovering the mystery of herself, so perhaps a book store is common ground for her-- finding texts on prophets, religious icons, miracles, gods and their acts etcetera. After my description, maybe even this one?
So maybe this is somewhere she's been or gone before that she's coming to again.
And look: Zora, who is blessed by the gods, sees someone who she can easily identify as similar. There's the best reason to be here, whether or not she knows it.
The only circumstances under which I could imagine Zali going into a bookstore would be if she were being paid by a client in another city to search Magnimar's bookstores for a particular book, map or chart, or if she wanted to canvas local businesses for information or gossip about someone or something in the district in which they were located. Frankly she's just not the academic type. Although she certainly has no objection to education and learning, it's quite probable that Zali's own level of literacy is quite low, given her impoverished and disadvantaged childhood. Also, let's face it, with an Intelligence score of 10, she's not exactly swimming in the deep end of the intellectual gene pool.
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Ebon doesn't know why the Scholars were allowed onto the Shoanti lands, most are driven off or killed outright.
His Uncle Raith however, has discovered some things but has no way of contacting Ebon and is to old to do much on his own. The Elder shaman of the Skaon Quah received a small ivory chest and a stack of scrolls from them. No one is talking about it though, and Raith feels powerless to do anything.
Ebon feels adrift and dislocated from his Clan. He views most Shoanti with distrust emotionally, but knows that not all are to blame for what happened.
A small dusky skinned Vudrani woman walks into the establishment, followed by a large, bald human with tattoos all over his arms. Wearing just a tattered suit of leather armor and carrying a large, spiked hammer across his back, he looks rather intimidating.
That is until you see the two small children clambering all over him, tugging on his arms and belts.
" Ebon would you remain here and keep an eye on Tessa and Germain, while I ask about the scrolls of Maerik Thrune. I still need help with the translation and was referred to the proprietor here." She turns away with a slight smirk, without waiting for a reply and searches the shop for the clerk.
With a frown he replies" Yes ma'am. As you say." Though it is obvious to all present that he would rather be fighting Trolls than watching these children.
" 'Bonkai why do you carry such a big hammer? Why is your dark skin different than mommies? Why did she hire you? Where's our nanny? Who were those men the other day? Have you killed anybody with your hammer?......"
The children rattle off numerous questions, causing a look of near panic to overcome Ebon's face.
He tries to maintain a stoic pose and a watchful mien. But to no avail...
" Enough!" He roars loud enough to startle all in the establishment. Ebon then picks up both children by their collars, one in each hand. Raising them up to eye level he turns them to look at him in the face.
" I cannot answer your questions little ones. I was hired for today only, just to protect you and your mother until the coach leaves. And it is Ebon Kai. NOT Bonkai. Now stand and wait til your mother is finished."
Apparently this has happened before, the children immediately begin to climb on him again, and the mother pops open a fan to cover her face, and laughter, at his expense.
Ten silver is not worth this frustration! But I couldn't let harm come to the children. Ebon thinks frowning severely again.
It's a cheerful morning in Magnimar. The breeze is light and airy coming off the ocean with promise of a pleasant day. The promise is wasted on Desmond. Lost in the chaos of the Bazaar of Sails he's overwhelmed by the sights and sound assaulting his senses. He couldn't even begin to understand everything he was seeing. No sooner than he fixed his eyes on some wonder than another ripped his attention away. What made things worse is that he couldn't seem figure out where to stand. No matter where he went, he always seemed to be in someone's way. How can there be so many people in the world all so frantic to be somewhere else? The ebb and flow of pedestrian traffic are completely foreign to Desmond and he finds himself buffeted and shoved from person to person until he's deposited on the doorstep of a quiet shop. Craning his neck at the sign over the door he picks out the Varisian name of the establishment, Burgstem's Assorted Acedemicals .
Desperate to escape the crowd he bursts though the doors into the sudden calm of what turns out to be a small book shop. The front of the store is lined with several shelves tables, crates, all stacked with various books, scrolls, and parchments. The rich smell of paper and ink fills the air. Behind a counter stands an elderly human male with a monocle in one eye while staring down at an open text before him, making notes on a pad.
The soft peal of gnomish laughter draws his attention to one side where two young women and one man are talking, the smaller the source of the laughter as she converses with her companions. The other young woman is tall for human women, with long flowing red hair. She seems to be telling some story but the language keeps jumping between several languages. The young man has the tell tale markings of an Aasimar as he leans back against the wall chatting with his companions.
Wincing as the door slams shut behind him, Desmond mouths a silent, "Sorry" to the man behind the counter before turning to stare blindly at a shelf in the corner. "Why am I here?" he thought, miserably. "This was a huge mistake." After taking several deep breaths to calm himself he suddenly realized what's on the shelf in front of him. Books. Books on Magic. Too afraid to touch the leather bound treasures in front of him, he ran his eyes caressingly across their spines reading the titles. "This... This is why I'm here."
Hopes that participation in this spontaneous role-playing is not necessary for nor improving the probability of selection.
It's not really about the roleplaying so much as it is seeing your style of posting, what you come up with, etc.
A PbP is a pretty serious undertaking, and the more invested someone is, the more likely he is to stick with it.
It's not really about the roleplaying so much as it is seeing your style of posting, what you come up with, etc.
A PbP is a pretty serious undertaking, and the more invested someone is, the more likely he is to stick with it.
Yes, I agree. I play several. The GM can check my aliases.
cheers
Quiahar attempts to blend into the corner, though with his bright (almost garish) clothing, it is a difficult task. Nevertheless, he allows his eyes to wonder over the titles of the books in the room, thinking to himself how wondrous the authors' experiences must have been. He is not particularly looking for anything so much as allowing all of the titles to gently wash over him, perhaps something catches his eye for a moment or two, he regards it with curiosity, almost reaching up to take it from the shelf, then lets it go again, returning again to a passive curiosity of quiet absorption.
Perhaps after some time of doing this, a quiet meditation of sorts on the nature of the universe, and of society, and of reason and rationality, he allows his ears to tune to the quiet voices of the others in the side of the shop, laughing and chatting between themselves. He can follow the story a little bit, the Varisian bits, but the rest is lost on him. The languages seem familiar to him, he has heard them before, but cannot quite decipher the words. Still, he is lightly entranced by their musicality.
He turns to the keeper of the store, "Pardon me, sir." His voice is gentle but toned with the strange accents of several languages, none his own, but parts and portions of them picked up from distant travels. "Do you have any books about Varisian bloodlines? Perhaps family histories?"
After Quiahar's parents were killed (which he doesn't really remember), the two aasimar who adopted him (part of a religious organization, leaving that up to the DM if he wants to create something or use something already in the world) quickly rushed Quiahar off, afraid he too would be targeted by (whatever evil plot had his parents killed in the first place). By land, they escaped to Korvosa, through Nidal to Cheliax, across to Andoran, from the city of Almas by ship to Absalom. Here the aasimar(s) who had spent nearly five years with him, traveling across these kingdoms, found the person he was looking for, an elf, who swiftly had Quiahar blindfolded. His monk training prepared him for this, though. And the aasimar (still unnamed, I know. I'll come up with something if the DM doesn't want to use it for something else), had been in charge of this training. They spoke back and forth rapidly, but Quiahar listened carefully, hoping to make something out of the foreign language they were speaking. He had an ear for such things, but the only thing that he could distinguish as being spoken several times was the word aiudara. Still blindfolded, he felt himself being led away, through busy streets, quiet buildings, across silent carpets and dirt floors. More words spoken in elven, a strange sense of power, then movement into a darker place, moisture, the sounds of humming power. More words in elven, surge of power, movement into cold air, where voices raised in anger were calmed again by elven. In the icy air around him, Quiahar felt hostility, but the elf who dragged him, pulled back his sleeve (presumably to show the strange birthmark he had been born with), and Quiahar felt the hostility lessen, replaced by curiosity. A curiosity he remembered feeling back. He was then led further away, and lifted onto some massive beast. After some time in the cold (Days, weeks? Blindfolded, he had no sense of time.), the air began to warm again.
Someone took off his blindfold, the elf, who left him neatly at the steps of a strange building with a curved, pointed roof and walls made of paper. Here he spent several more years learning the Tian language, and followed a path of ascetic virtue to train his mind and hone his abilities in what the monks called the Garden of Temporal Reality. Things moved, constantly, he learned, adding to themselves, removing impurities, cleansing and remerging with the world. Movement was what was sacred, the solid thing could never be thus, for time flowed, as did all things in that time. Nothing stayed constant. And things which attempted to be often died as a result.
He continued to train thus, mastering the use of his hands as exotic weapons, flowing with life energy through time and space, impacting other things and influencing them, pushing them, forcing them, breaking them. Nothing remains constant in the art of life. Eventually, he was brought a new weapon, the nine-section whip, which was bright and flashy; like time, it undulated with imperfect perfection. Studying the movement of the whip, Quiahar began to see himself within the whip, the whip within the dance of time, and time as the drum for all things. A drum he began to feel and hear with his heartbeat, the flow was all that mattered. Memories washed in. Tears flowed, and with them, the pain left him. Some memories remained outside his reach, but he knew then that he would not remain in one place for too long, and he would not remain in this place, even if it was safer than where he was before. Magnimar...
Over the next few years, as Quiahar learned to distance himself from his past even more, and to continually move both physically and mentally, he wondered the lands of Tian Xia. Wherever he was accepted, he learned the culture of the place, attempted a few words of strange languages, allowed his curiosity to lead him in circles and strange spiral patterns which only emphasized the importance of movement. He began to remember more of the teachings the aasimar had given him: kindness, curiosity, and laid-back benevolence. Not to influence, but just to accept. Not to reject, but to gently refuse. Not to push what is offensive away, but allow it to come and gently slide off without influence. All things in movement. All circles complete. The teachings were beginning to merge, and they were making sense. So he continued to make 'the circle', moving through the countries of Tian Xia until he had circled all the way around, finding his way back to the monastery where he had first begun his training. Here again, another surprise awaited him. The elf who had first brought him here was waiting, and with hardly a word Quiahar blindfolded himself, and was again led to a massive beast, and back through several weeks journeys of icy cold. Through whatever he had gone through before, until he was back in Absalom. Still blindfolded, the elven made no sense to him, but he knew he would learn it eventually, some of its syllables already carried emotional distinction.
Quiahar did not know what to expect next. The elf departed once he had been unblindfolded. Never revealing his name, nor anything about him really. Quiahar did not think he would see him again.
Still continuing his journeys, Quiahar felt that the circle was calling him again. Like a dance, only different, the cycle was moving, constantly moving, and he set out again. By what passage he could work for to Osirion, making his way through the lands of Thuvia, to Rahadoum, and across by boat again to the Chelish city of Corentyn, and back toward the city he remembered. It was a long walk, and in that time he maintained his devotion to what his elders had taught him. He used his time preciously, knowing that it was fluid and most fluids eventually dried up. Even then, they could fill up again, but it was never the same fluid, always something different. One thing would pass away, die, and be replaced by something new. The cycles of life continued. Always moving.
I hope this has answered your questions, and I am grateful for the opportunity to answer them as I have had to really think about it some more and learn more about the character's way of thinking in the process. There are more questions here, of course. And I can answer them with a little thinking, or I can leave them open for the DM to answer.
It's a cheerful morning in Magnimar. The breeze is light and airy coming off the ocean with promise of a pleasant day. You find yourself in the Bazaar of Sails. Your destination is before you. Two dusty windows flank the entry of the shop. The light inside is somewhat dim but you can make out several rows of shelves.
The sign over the door is written in several languages, though none are common. The name of the establishment is Burgstem's Assorted Acedemicals in Varisian, Kelish and Thassilonian.
Fredrico looked up at the sign and smiled happily. With any luck he would find something interesting to read for the rest of the day. He hefted the two books he had "purchased" the week before. In fact his purchases were never permanent. He had a long standing arrangement with Burgstem whereby he purchased tomes and returned them a few days or weeks later for a slightly lesser price. He pushed up open the door with joyous anticipation.
Pushing though the door brings you into a small book shop. The front of the store is lined with several shelves tables, crates, all stacked with various books, scrolls, and parchments. The rich smell of paper and ink fills the air. Behind a counter stands an elderly human male with a monocle in one eye while he stares down at an open text before him while making notes on a pad.
The soft peal of gnomish laughter draws your attention to one side where you see two young women and one man, the smaller the source of the laughter as she converses with her companions. The other young woman is tall for human women, with long flowing red hair. She seems to be telling some story but the language keeps jumping between several languages. The young man has the tell tale markings of an Aasimar as he leans back against the wall chatting with his companions.
The young half-elf strode open the door. As was his custom he greeted Burgstem in Varisian, " Bergstem! May your road stretch ... " But the greeting died in his mouth as he noticed the three conversationalists. Odd. Burgstem seldom has so many in his shop at once. And I don't think I know them. I'm sure I would have noticed her.
He stroked his right moustache into a finer point and returned his attention to the proprietor. Or most of his attention anyway.
Just wanted to post an update and say that I'll be putting up the sheet tomorrow. Been dealing with nasty weather that's left me running for cover (and away from the computer) off and on for the past 6 or so hours.
Thanks Shadowyfox, be safe.
A general note to all applicants: thank you for your interest and participation. Zirt and Cyniq have done a fantastic job with their questioning to help flesh out backgrounds, etc. Much better than I would have, to be quite honest.
My posts have been on the light side but I've been popping in and reading through the responses and I'm impressed. I'll be re-reviewing submissions tonight/tomorrow and discussing with Zirt and Cyniq to get their feedback.
Sunday night/Monday morning I will post the chosen few who will be invited to this campaign and will PM each to weave them into the existing story line.
Cheers!