*creates thread*
The woods around the village are dark... especially deeper in, where the larger, older trees are. For most, this is a problem, but thanks to her tainted lineage, her eyes see better in the inky blackness beneath the canopy. There are, of course, predators, but they stink of blood, and are detectable from miles off
as a side note, I'm trying to get a feel for this character. until recently, I was going to focus on her being a Dhampir, but as we have a second one, I'm looking for an interesting storyline for her.
If Pharaan decides to focus on other aspects, I might focus on being in two worlds anyway
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I am Gulirk. I was born an orc to the tribe Skullbasher. However, to understand me, you must understand my adoptive father, Neeble and his clan Mechana. They once lived in a fantastic underground city. A Gnomish wonder, and the pinnacle of this worlds technology. A seamless marriage of machine and magic. Subterranean railways with powerful and fast locomotives, Massive machines for mining and excavation, and an ever wondrous array of technologies, all powered by Elementals.
Greedy eyes and violent hands turn their attention to the mighty city. An orc army, more massive than any in recorded history, marches its way to subdue and enslave the gnomes. The leader was brilliant, ruthless and charismatic ...Slade Skullbasher. It was numbers versus technological superiority. A war of attrition ensued. My father Neeble, escaped with the remnants of his clan.
Determined to either capture them or drive them to extinction, Slade and the remnants of his once vast army chase the escapees.
My father, Neeble, found a village willing to help them. Poor souls who are tainted by death. The leader of the village, A Dhampir named Lontash, saw the value that the gnomes could bring to the villiage. He sided with the gnomes and made a last stand against Slade and the Skullbashers. The gnomes' new allies were swift and brutal, effortlessly overwhelming them at their camp. They swept out of the darkness, and silenced them before a weapon could be raised. The slaughter continued as slaves, and children fall prey.
My father braved the battlefield and begged, shouted, and screamed for it to stop. The bloodletting eventually relented but only one Orcan baby was left alive.
I love my father. I search for what he needs. Elementals. They are the engine for all our technology. Sometimes I wonder if I am doing right. My father says they do not feel as we do. They do not eat. They do not breathe. They do not age. They do not sleep. One must have suffering for a spirit to live within.
I wonder, when imprisoned, do they suffer? Do they now have spirit? I must go scout for them now.
Anyone else getting an "attack on titan" vibe from this? Dark forest, "soulless" elementals, predators that can afford to be detectable over miles of forest. Broken down Magitech that kust needs a fuel source.
It sounds like Lontash and his people might include Imazael and Phraanz. Do they remember the refugee gnomes? It was so long before the flux, they might remember it differently.
Btw, the ifrits, oreads, undines, and sylphs are on the rare end of the race table.
I had to look up "Attack on Titan"
Do you wonder if an early politician ever said We're gonna build a wall, and have the titans pay for it.
Actually, my inspiration was Robotech. Mecha + Protoculture fuel
well, What I meant was that she could smell them from miles away, I meant that Dhampirs have weirdly acute senses (Especially where blood is concerned)
I was kinda thinking more wolves/werewolves/giant death bats/other forest stuff
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Hyper-masculine dudebro/jock/manly man is nothing like anything I've tried before, but I'm going to try at least. Maybe Phraanz can give me pointers.
Parents worked in the forge in a town named Merribel. Don't remember who lived there, jus' that they were a bunch'a pathetic farmers. Not a dwarf among 'em. They'd break their tools, the old man'd fix 'em, and it went on like that in the most painfully borin' days I'd ever have to deal with. Ended up stickin' in the forge to help out most of the time, because the other option was playin' with the other kids in the town, and screw those guys. One of that scrawny lot tried to wrestle wi' me and cried foul when he found out dwarf arms beat twig arms.
Not the important bit. Some guy came wanderin' through one day, going on 'bout how great 'is god was. Wouldn'ta cared, but it was a dwarf, and something on 'im smelt amazin'. So, I went up, and asked the guy what the smell was. He looks at me a moment, like I was crazy or summat, and then he gets this stupid smile on 'is face and pulls out a necklace made'a the greatest thin' I've ever seen.
And that's how I learned about Midas, and his most blessed creation - gold. He made gold and scattered it ev'rywhere, so that dwarves could find it, bring it all together, and make a big statue of him with the lot of it that he'd use to walk the land. Midas's followers apparently went around lookin' fer the stuff to make the statue. Necklace jus' shows they follow 'im, and they'll be the last bit'a gold to go in when they make the statue.
Sounded bloody great to me. Lot better than hangin' around 'ere. I asked if I could come along, and he said he would take me if I could find 'im some gold. Had to turn the damn house upside down, but I smelled some when I started pokin' around in my parent's room while they were busy. Bust the drawer, took the gold, and bailed. I bring it over, and he gives me that dumb smile of 'is again and says we're gonna get along well.
When we hit the road that day, he tells me 'is name is Garnyl. I give 'im my name, and from then on we went town to town, gettin' what gold we could for Midas. I ended up sniffing the stuff out for the most part, since Garnyl's nose was wrecked. Surprising amount in people's houses that we had to break in to get. I mean, bothered me at first, the whole breakin' and enterin' thing, but apparently the stuff messes with the heads of non-dwarves...and some dwarves get addicted to the smell. We were doing 'em a favour gettin' that stuff away from them. Not ev'ryone can handle a god's metal.
Time to time, me and Garnyl went to a place to offload the gold to another'a Midas's followers. Prefer not to go to half the dingy places we ended up in, but you can't keep gold near non-dwarves, and we got plenty'a silver to help keep ourselves fed.
Garnyl looked after me well, and we did good work collectin' gold and makin' sure people weren't affected by it. Eventually though, some gold-crazed halfling hurt 'im bad while we were doin' our work. The hag tried to gut us both, and he had to kill 'er to get 'er to stop. He's bleeding bad from the effort, I'm dragging 'im out so I can try and patch 'im up, and he just looks at me and tells me there's no point. He gives me 'is necklace, and tells me to keep up the good work before he bleeds out.
Been a few years since then. I stick to spreading the word nowadays - don't have the skill Garnyl had for getting places. Not as nice a life, but I don't have to worry so much about being gutted by someone with gold fever. The village was just a stop on the way to a gold vein I heard about - they struck deep, and if I got some work there I might have been able to get some'a the gold away before it did any damage.
Fat chance'a that now.
Muirkhom ended up in the village a few years later, having switched to selling the same story that got him in the first place and hunting for gold in mines and the environment since he doesn't have the skill to keep breaking into places.
He's convinced gold has a mind-altering effect on non-dwarves and that he and fellow 'faithful' need to gather up all the gold in the world to make it into a giant statue that his god will use as an avatar on this plane.
I think I established that the base currency is silver as an excuse for why he'd never smelled gold before.
I rolled 'Gullible Dwarven Pilgrim' and converted it to 'Religiously motivated ex-burglar'. I don't even know how I got from here to there, but I love it.
I don't know if I've taken too many liberties with my starting point here, but this was far too much fun to write. Even if I think I gave Muirkhom an accent I can't identify and that is likely terribly written.
I didn't mean naked giants, I just meant that thriller vibe where any encounter with danger spells almost certain death. Like, struggling in the dark to keep yourselves fed and armed and sheltered from the elements when suddenly, a bear murders one of you to take your rations. Like going outside of town is a nightmare, and you folks are just the ones who deal with it.
Muirkhom's background is gravy. That's exactly the kind of faith that makes Gods in this kind of scenario.
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It’s not that she disliked farming, or sewing, or herding, She didn’t mind those, and could do them passably, but she took up woodsmanship as her primary trade when she came of age.
Two years after that, she had accumulated enough coin (And raw materials) to build herself a house, a small one room cabin at the edge of the woods. She would have liked to share it one day, though few people in town caught her fancy, and fewer showed any interest in pursuing her. It was thus for another 5 years, until a few months ago.
A stranger came into town, passing through and seeking shelter for the night. There was no proper lodging house, but a few in the town were willing to rent out a room for the man. He was well dressed, a minor noble (The son of a Baron, or something similar) and he took a fancy to Emma, Offered her food, wine, they danced, and ultimately, they wound up back at her house.
It was there he revealed his true form, his eyes glowed red, with cats eye slits, and his fangs jutted out as he bit into her neck. She would have died there, or worse, become his undead thrall, his new toy, assassin, or accomplice, had it not been for her nephew. He was a lad, only 12, and living at his aunts to learn her trade. As the vampire drank, he walked in, and ran at it with an axe. The creature was badly wounded, and fled.
It took her several days to recover, and in those days, the curse took hold. She awoke… different. The physical differences were minor, green eyes in place of her brown, her skin was more sensitive to the sun, her eyes more adapted to the dark, blood smelled more strongly, and she seemed to have inherited the creatures enchanting aura.
The psychological differences, however, were more striking. She felt compulsions she did not have before. She felt a need to dress meticulously, and her wardrobe’s drab colours grated on her. She also began preferring meat more rare, and though she would never admit it, she once encountered a wounded animal in the woods, and drank some of it’s blood. Even her own name felt wrong, she desired a more regal name.
She indulges these lesser compulsions, while hiding the more… unseemly ones, she dresses impeccably, undercooks meat, and goes by Imazael (and having that conversation a dozen times was fun, let me tell you), and keeps her “gifts” under wraps.
She came to, and had weird vampy s&~! wrong with her (Her eyes were the wrong colour, she didn’t like her name or clothing, and was attracted to blood, as well as displaying weird vampiric charm). Now she’s just trying to keep on with her life.
also, If I may suggest something, I think there might be a few kinds of vampires (This lets Pharaan and I go in different directions with vampirism without contradicting eachother)
Also, Bastian, How do damage dice and HP work?
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Your character's damage die starts as 1d4, your HP starts at Constitution/4, your load starts at 4+STR. there are Character Sheets listed in the game description at the top of the page.
I'll have something in Gameplay soonish.
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Blaaaaargh. This is the third time I've tried to get this up.
Anyway, surprisingly Imazael's origin story...doesn't actually contradict this. I admit I'm...not entirely certain what the order of events are, but it seems like Gulirk had his kerfuffle at his origin, and then moved on to the location that we are now, yeah?
Phraanz was there the day the gnomes came.
The High Elder, Lontash the Wraith, was swayed by the words of the half-man's leader and declared a Blood-Pact. But he was opposed by he who was most considered the true power of the village, and Phraanz and Imazael's father: Lord Borak the Despoiler.
Lontash and Borak debated long into the day, past any sane hour of resting. Borak pushed to slay the gnomes where they stood, and Lontash argued that they had so few allies amongst the warm-bloods, they might start making friends now.
In the end Borak was sated when Lontash called Jihad upon the orc invaders, and made TrueOath that all could be slain to slake The Despoiler's bloodlust.
All hands were raised against the Skullbasher horde after sleeppowder was drifted over them by Lontash's calm-wind. True to his word, a mighty reaping was taken that day.
At the impassioned plea of the gnome-leader, Lontash called for a halt to the killing, and decreed the last living soul to be NameBearer, an ancient rite to keep the souls of the dead pacified by allowing a single being to carry their name. Borak was terrible in his anger and called Lontash a breaker of a TrueOath.
Rather than enter ritual combat, as was his right, Borak took those that would follow him and left.
Phraanz sought out his brother* Imazael and asked council. It was decided that they did not wish to follow Lord Borak, but nor could they stay, for so great would the taint be upon their names for their lineage. Instead the packed their meager belongings and left.
* Phraanz often calls Imazael his brother because he is uncomfortably attracted to the lithe girl. Such label-crossing sometimes helps his confusion.
Of course, in truth they are but half-siblings, having the same father but birthed via different routes--Phraanz's mortal mother was bitten while pregnant. And, sterile as Dhampirs usually are, the taboos against sibling mating that are prevalent amongst the warmbloods, do not hold the same sway.
Their biggest point of sibling rivalry circles around nutrition. Phraanz quickly embraced eating meat--indeed, all organs--raw, if possible with the blood still warm but Imazael has yet to embrace the practice, sticking to the more 'edible' shanks and traditional muscle tissue.
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Here's what I have for my character's background.
Saddened by his reception among his native race, and sickened by their immorality, Kyrillosr decided to abandon his people to live among the clothes-wearing races above sea level. Kyrillosr felt more at home with others who wore clothes like him, even if not made of seaweed. Naturally courageous, he still aspires to take up a life of adventuring, but he is all too frail for such endeavors.
Yet unskilled with regard to weaving with dry materials such as wool or linen, Kyrillosr's seaweed clothing business is nowhere near making him a rich merman. As his side job, he is employed by the city to dive underwater and clear the mud that builds up from time to time in the river, which is essential to the water supply; but he always tries to steer clear of fellow merpeople, among whom he feels uncomfortable.
First gameplay post is up.
It's fine, and perfectly understandable. That's why I put together the character sheet. Think of your main as your villagers' guardian spirit. We'll have a graduation ceremony when someone hits level 1.
is that how you intended spout lore to work?
Yes. The truth is near what you said, and another player got a similarly vague information about the topic which is also truth-adjacent.
hoooow boy, Imazael frickin' loves Phraanz.
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now, who do I give a lip lock to? enie meanie miney mo
So I've been tinkering with this move...
Object Impermanence
When you spend time alone (a few moments or a few hours) a pervasive sense of dread chills you to your core. Roll + your highest modifier. On a hit, you've managed to sustain your own existence... for now. On a 7-9 choose one:
* Pick a stat and permanently gain 1d5-3. Adjust the modifier accordingly.
* Reroll a stat at random. Adjust the modifier accordingly.
* Reroll your Race, Occupation, or Bond at random.
* Take 1d6 damage.
I'm open to suggestions on this one.
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If we're taking damage due to existential instability, it should be armour piercing. I mean, maybe magic might help, but nothing mundane. Preferably something else along with it too, because it's the most boring option in and out of itself. That, or just replace it.
Oooh, that could be fun. Maybe take it further. Split odds of un-cursed magical item, a cursed magical item, or a different object altogether which is probably going to be mundane.
If you could gather up stuff that only affects one person, since I'm sure this is a personal thing, then that sounds like it could prove interesting. That said, I wouldn't object to pigeons manifesting on my head or something. Just as long as it's localised, it should probably fit with the move.
How about:
* Pick a stat and permanently gain 1d5-3. Adjust the modifier accordingly.
* Reroll a stat at random. Adjust the modifier accordingly.
* Reroll your Race, Occupation, or Bond at random.
* A random item in your inventory gains (???).
* Gain 1d3-2 base HP.
My plan for HP is to increase HP by 1/4 Constitution each level.
Here is the Table It has a randomizer. I'd trust LASoROS to use the randomizer until he gets something useful
A useful resource for sure.
Looks good to me.
How about:
* Pick a stat and permanently gain 1d5-3. Adjust the modifier accordingly.
* Reroll a stat at random. Adjust the modifier accordingly.
* Reroll your Race, Occupation, or Bond at random.
* A random item in your inventory gains (???).
* Gain 1d3-2 base HP.My plan for HP is to increase HP by 1/4 Constitution each level.
6- is dying?
6- is the same as any other 6-. You gain xp, and I make a move. None of those moves are "you die."
I see. I was wondering because success was "you sustain your existence," implying failure was not sustaining your existence.
It can still be pretty rough...
went in what I thought would be a more interesting direction with my bond.
Um, Kyrillosr? I never said anything about goblins. I thought about goblins, but I didn't say anything. And I have no idea how you'd know that otherwise, without being a mind reader.
Maybe you are? I don't know. Still.
Whether or not you read minds, I read into that statement about goblins too much, it seems.
If I am, it's news to me too.
Maybe I just somehow know your antics too well already. But even if I did, guessing correctly on the goblin thing is still quite a feat, especially with 8 intelligence.
The world the way it is, expect a few inconsistencies. If enough of you insist the are goblins, and it's not a central part of their identities, they might be goblins next beat.
Also, I love how Krenin has not immediately resorted to using his racial to get stuff done.
I'm a little confused as to what to do here? also, what does mean. (Sorry)
It's okay. My fault.
You need to choose which of those two realities is real. The note shows which of your rolls are in effect in either path. For example, in the reality where Imazael is alien'd into a pitch-black room, she'd gain XP from the failed roll, but in the other option, there's nothing to attack, so that roll wasn't triggered.
Imazael taking the displacer beast as an Animal Companion is totally a direction we can take this... Technically, she just needs to prove her dominance somehow...
"On a 7–9, they need some concrete
assurance of your promise, right now."