'The coward dies a thousand deaths, the brave but one'.... (The man who first said that) was probably a coward.... He knew a great deal about cowards but nothing about the brave. The brave dies perhaps two thousand deaths if he's intelligent. He simply doesn't mention them.”
--Ernest Hemingway (Farewell to Arms), referencing Shakespeare
All the same old cliches,"Is that a woman or a man?"
And you always seem outnumbered, You don't dare make a stand.
Here I am On the road again.
-Bob Seger
Fomiel is stoic. He does not show emotion. Why? Is it because he does not care or feel? On the contrary, he cares and feels more than most. He just sees the advantage of betraying no emotion.
'The first to show emotion has given the other an advantage' - Fomiel
Fomiel has been tweaked to make his motivations, background and personality more consistent.
@Hilde Alfborne: Great character sheet. I loved Esmerelda "Black Esme" Proust when we played in the Ravenloft campaign together and Athena Giovanni when you applied to my Way of the Wicked.
It's really gratifying that two of my fellow applicants enjoyed my submission. Especially that one with it's typos. I was really pushing, there at the end, to get it done that night.
I claim credit for the submission, which is why I appreciate the compliments. I can't take credit for the characters however, as they seem to pretty much make themselves. What I end up with is never what I set out to make.
Thank you for your kind words. They mean so much more because of the respect I feel for those that gave them to me.
Randall Munroe was right.(Off the record: The Tropes are a TRAP!! Stay away from them!! I totally got caught up in it :D)
TV Tropes is even worse than wikipedia, although whole nights have gone by, unnoticed, on both.
As an MMO player, I am frequently disappointed by both the bad behavior and tremendous ignorance displayed on the internet. Periodically however, I will go to wikipedia in search of clarity regarding a contradicting, muddled lecture I've just received here in medical school. That the internet puts the sum total of human knowledge so clearly and accurately at our literal fingertips amazes me. The internet isn't always right when it comes to social issues, but when it comes to insight (tv tropes) and science (wikipedia), it gets you 99% of the way home every time.
I would bet that I could turn in a college term paper dissecting Hamlet using only the information on TV Tropes and have it be at least as insightful as one researched in the library from published sources.
Theodric Abernathy --Wizard 1 (Abjurer)
Here's my character sheet. I'm reposting my other information so it's all on the same post.
Theodric Abernathy
Male Human Wizard (Abjurer) 1
LN Medium Humanoid (Human)
Init +7 (+3 Dex, +4 Feat); Senses Perception +1
DEFENSE
AC 13, touch 13, flat-footed 10 (+3 Dex)
hp 9 (6 +2 Con, +1 favored class)
Fort +2 (0 base, +2 Con)
Ref +3 (0 base, + 3 Dex)
Will +3 (2 base +1 Wis)
Defensive Abilities Resistance 5 (varies), Protective Ward +1 (7x/day)
OFFENSE
Spd 30 ft
Melee Dagger +0 (+0 BAB, +0 str) (1d4/19-20 x2)
Ranged Light Crossbow +3 (+0 BAB, +3 dex) (1d8/19-20 x2)
Space 5 ft.; Reach 5 ft.
STATISTICS
Str 10 (0)
Dex 16 (+3)
Con 14 (+2)
Int 18 (+4)
Wis 12 (+1)
Cha 8 (-1)
Base Atk +0 (+0 Wizard)
CMB +0 (+0 BAB, +0 Str)
CMD 13 (10 +0 BAB, +3 Dex, +0 Str)
Feats
Improved Initiative [Level 1], +4 to Initiative
Spell Penetration [Human] +2 on CL checks to overcome SR
Scribe Scroll [Wizard] Can create scrolls
Traits
Student of Philosophy, can use Int bonus instead of Cha when using Diplomacy to Persuade or Bluff to lie
Cynic, +1 trait bonus to Sense Motive and it’s a class skill
Magical Knack, +2 CL (can’t exceed character level)
Drawback—Pride, -2 penalty on Diplomacy checks and Sense Motive checks vs someone when they threaten, accuse, or challenge me (until they apologize)
Skills
Bluff -1 (0 ranks, -1 Cha) (+4 when convincing someone that a lie is true)
Diplomacy -1 (0 ranks, -1 Cha) (+4 when trying to persuade others)
Knowledge (Arcana) +8 (1 rank, +3 class, +4 Int)
Knowledge (History) +8 (1 rank, +3 class, +4 Int)
Knowledge (Nature) +8 (1 rank, +3 class, +4 Int)
Knowledge (Planes) +8 (1 rank, +3 class, +4 Int)
Linguistics +8 (1 rank, +3 class, +4 Int)
Sense Motive +6 (1 rank, +3 class, +1 Wis, +1 trait)
Spellcraft +8 (1 rank, +3 class, +4 Int)
Total Points: 7 (7 Wizard x1 level)
Languages Common, Abyssal, Celestial, Draconic, Elven, Infernal (1 base, +4 Int, +1 linguistics)
Equipment
Traveler’s Outfit, 0 gp, 5 lbs.
Backpack, 2 gp, 2 lbs.
Dagger, 2 gp, 1 lb.
Light Crossbow, 35 gp, 4 lbs.
10 bolts, 1 gp, 1 lb.
Waterskin, 1 gp, 4 lbs.
4 days trail rations, 2 gp, 4 lbs.
2 sunrods, 4 gp, 2 lbs.
Tindertwig x2, 2 gp
Shaving Kit, 1.5 gp, 0.5 lbs.
Belt pouch, 1 gp, 0.5 lbs.
Spell Component Pouch, 5 gp, 2 lbs.
Spellbook, 3 lbs.
Ink Vial, 8 gp
Inkpen, 1 sp
10 sheets of parchment, 2 gp
1 piece of chalk, 1 cp
3 gp, 3 sp, 9 cp in belt pouch
Weight Carried: 29 lbs. (light load)
Spellbook
0th—All
1st— Alarm, Ant Haul, Color Spray, Expeditious Retreat, Grease, Protection from Evil, Silent Image, Sleep, Unseen Servant (I spent 50 gp for two extra scrolls to copy into my spellbook. Let me know if that’s not ok.)
Spells Memorized
0th—Detect Magic, Mage Hand, Prestidigitation
1st—Color Spray, Protection from Evil, Unseen Servant
SPECIAL ABILITIES
Bonus Feat Gain a bonus feat at Level 1 (human)
Skilled Gain +1 skill point per level (human)
Arcane Bond Object—Ring: Can cast one spell per day, doesn’t need to be memorized in advance
Cantrips Can cast an unlimited number of cantrips each day
Arcane School Abjuration, opposition schools are Evocation and Necromancy
Resistance (Ex) Resistance 5 vs one energy type, chosen each day (default fire)
Protective Ward (Su) +1 deflection bonus to AC to all allies within 10 ft, lasts 4 rounds, usable 7x/day
Energy Absorption (Su) Gained at level 6
Proficiencies Club, dagger, heavy crossbow, light crossbow, and quarterstaff, but not with any type of armor or shield.
Theodric doesn’t want to be in charge, but that doesn’t stop him from criticizing other people’s ideas and decisions. He uses logic and reason to prove his points and becomes frustrated when others don’t see his point of view. While he would like to believe that he is brave and is capable of a heroic sacrifice like the other crusaders in Mendev, in truth he is chiefly concerned with his own self-preservation. However, when he truly makes friends with someone (and it’s not easy for him to do, given his nature), he will go to great lengths to make sure they are safe, even as he tries to deflect any thanks they send his way.
Insufferable Genius Though he doesn’t brag about his education directly, he can be argumentative about certain issues, particularly ones in which he feels he has superior knowledge. When arguing, whether philosophy or the next course of action to take, he makes his points with reason, but can sometimes refute his opponents in a way that belittles them.
I plan to play this as Theodric acting disinterested when some decisions are made, only to become animated and argue fiercely one way or another—I understand this is a cooperative game and I don’t intend to break up the group or bog things down with constant arguments. I just mean that if certain issues arise that Theodric is passionate about, religion, for example, he will give his opinions without regard for hurting another’s feelings. So if there is a preachy paladin in the party, Theodric will not simply accept everything he says as truth. Since Theodric is pretty anti-religion (though he acknowledges the existence and power of the gods), I think it could create some interesting RP opportunities in a place like Mendev.
Cynic Theodric knows that in this life the only person one can rely on consistently is himself—not friends, not family, and certainly not the gods.
Student of Philosophy Theodric delights in rhetoric and philosophical debate, the only type of “battle” he can win on a consistent basis.
Magical Knack Much like his other academic pursuits, Theodric took to arcane endeavors quickly and skillfully. If you want me to stick to the original flavor of the trait, you could say that he conversed with magically bound creatures while studying extraplanar beings (which I want to be his main focus).
Pride Drawback--As I’ve said, he’s prone to anger and impatience at the misunderstanding of his views and at any insults to (or ignoring of) his intelligence.
Life is four lettered word, no mistaking that. Being a half breed scavenger in a land of desperate folk didn’t make things any easier. It could have been better, he could have been better, with a different set of circumstances, but that wasn’t the hand he got dealt. The dirty streets of Daggerport and an elven mother with a bad pesh habit were his lot. Most of his early days were spent just trying to get a fair bite to eat, a full belly the reward for skirting the law. His quick elven reflexes a boon in deftly swiping a pie from a window sill, and his quick words an escape from trouble if he was caught pie-handed.
As boys do, he outgrew his neighborhood as his appetites increased. His mother barely acknowledged his goodbye when he left, her eyes glazed with the luxury of apathy granted by the cloud of pesh smoke. He was a fine fit to the culture of the River Kingdoms, a land of desperate men escaping their pasts and carving out new lives. But something greater called to him, something larger than taking what life offered or left unguarded. To the north he travelled, where travelers told of a wound in the earth that spewed demons and a host of heroes seeking glory and fame. A land where a man could claim a name of false nobility, or make a name for himself through merit. With a false banner attached to his spear, and dreams of big glory, Aarol found his way to Kenabres and the recruiter’s office.
“Greatest deed Luke Skywalker ever did was take down the Death Star, right? As far as I'm concerned, that's what everybody needs. You need that one bad-ass thing that lets you live on forever, you know.” - Hutch, Fanboys (2009)
“People think it's all about misery and desperation and death and all that sh*t which is not to be ignored, but what they forget is the pleasure of it. Otherwise we wouldn't do it. After all, we're not f*cking stupid. At least, we're not that f*cking stupid.” - Renton, Trainspotting (1996)
His driving force is the desire for that ultimate moment of glory, that one special success that brings an incredible feeling of satisfaction and balances a life of being ignoble and dishonest. He wants to be a hero, but just can’t escape his own nature, and the crusades offer that chance at being a hero. It’s a microcosm of culture where he’s rewarded for cutting down a foe and looting his corpse for drinking money. It’s a place where he can be unsympathetic and vile, where he can revel in the brutality of hacking a beast limb from limb, all in the name of good.
“Well, here I am, anonymous, all right. With guys nobody really cares about. They come from the end of the line, most of them...got nothing. They're poor. They're the unwanted. Yet they're fighting for our society and our freedom. It's weird, isn't it? They're the bottom of the barrel, and they know it. Maybe that's why they call themselves grunts, 'cause a grunt can take it, can take anything. They're the best I've ever seen, Grandma. The heart and soul.” - Taylor, Platoon (1986)
“I've hired you to help me start a war. It's an prestigious line of work, with a long and glorious tradition.” - Vizzini, Princess Bride (1987)
A more retched hive of paladins and holiness has never been known. (that should be a trope, the anti-Mos Eisly) Hallways thick with smarmy bastards reeking of pride block any progress at the recruiter’s office. It’s a place of low men with lofty ideals. It’s a collection of anger and fury to match the moods of gods. It’s glorious. Aarol waits his time, ‘til the man barks the quick questions at him.
"What Do You Have to Offer the Crusade?"
His answer is simple, the only answer that’s acceptable or honest, "My Life." he responds.
"When Can You Start?"
He looks at the man sideways for a second, "Well, Now, I suppose, it’s not like I need a stinking badge or anything, right?"
"Any Next of Kin to Send Yer Sh*t After a Demon Guts Ya and Makes a Lute with Yer Entrails?"
He considers the pesh cloud surrounding his mother’s life and knows the money won’t do her any good, "No, no one."
The recruiter fixes Aarol with a serious stare, ”Why do you want to do this? Aarol glances sideways, quickly, then looks back to the recruiter and points to the banner on the wall, ”That, that banner of success, a chance to be someone bigger than I am, to make a difference on a grand stage, to gain a victory that can’t be taken from me.”
Though I had started with the idea of sanguine, the character I created is Choleric in humor, who knew?
For the tropes, I created a trope that describes the character and posted it earlier in this thread, Here.
A varisian father and elven mother provide his lineage and explain the long limbs, light brown locks, and charming good looks. A sparse beard coupled with defined muscle betrays his mixed elvish and human heritage, while a friendly smile deceives those that mistake it for kindness. Quicker than skillful, he relies on the threat of his elvish blade to intimate foes. His grandfather’s heirloom weapon, he took the blade when departing home, knowing that his mother would sell it for more pesh if he left it with her.
His capacity to offend people can be difficult to juxtapose with the intent to do good. It’s very unlikely that he’ll ever be asked to present a wedding toast or an eulogy, which is not to suggest that he won’t still get up there and tell horrible and funny stories about the person of honor. He assumes he has children, maybe even a couple of them, but he’s never met any of them, if they exist. Brash and overconfident, he can make friends and lose them with the quickest of ease.
“Just remember what ol' Jack Burton does when the earth quakes, and the poison arrows fall from the sky, and the pillars of Heaven shake. Yeah, Jack Burton just looks that big ol' storm right square in the eye and he says, "Give me your best shot, pal. I can take it." - Jack Burton, Big Trouble in Little China (1986)
“Kid, I've flown from one side of this galaxy to the other. I've seen a lot of strange stuff, but I've never seen anything to make me believe that there's one all-powerful Force controlling everything. There’s no mystical energy field controls my destiny.” - Han Solo
Please forgive quoting the same movie twice. I watched Platoon this weekend for inspiration on building a character who's joining a ‘crusade’ where the people are really fighting themselves, as in Mendev, which is also the big point in the final speech by Taylor in the movie. But this line fit perfectly for a follower of Desna and is delivered perfectly by Defoe.
“I love this place at night, the stars. There's no right or wrong in them. They're just there.” Sgt. Elias, Platoon (1986)
This is exactly how I image Aarol worshipping Desna. Under the stars in the night sky he finds comfort, there’s no judgement for what he does, for what he’s done, he just simply is, he exists as a single dot of light in a black landscape, no different from any other dot of light on that same dark canvas.
This game looks awesome VoV...how did I miss it up to this point?
Tarna Sah Anun spun to avoid the barbed stinger that lashed down. With a leap and another twist he avoided the massive pincer that grabbed at his ankles. He brought his sword in a raking strike across the creature’s foreleg. It barely scratched the surface of his carapace. “I cannot damage it!” he cried.
Nefut Ira Tarna weaved her hands and chanted a litany of power to Ragathiel, bringing holy fire down on the back of the fiendish scorpion. Tarna dashed around the creature as it writhed in agony from the blast. With a massive swing of his sword, he sheared the end of the creature’s barbed tail. A spray of caustic black poison erupted from the wound, covering Tarna’s face. He fell to the ground retching, as the poison seeped into his wounds.
Nefut screamed in horror as the back of the scorpion’s massive claw swept Tarna away, leaving him lying broken dozens of feet from the battle. The Abyssal creature advanced on her, gouts of acidic bile still spilling from its wounded tail. Nefut drew upon her most powerful spell, channeling the divine power of the General of Vengeance directly into her frail body. Instantly her speed and power increased, rivaling that of her warrior husband’s. She charged, scooping up his sword as she attacked.
The raw divine power flowed unchecked through muscle and bone and vein. She swung the sword over and over, chipping away at the demon’s carapace. The fiend lunged at her with claw and mandible. She deflected the great pincer over her head, and drove towards the creature’s maw. As it bit down, she struck up. The sword drove through the creatures open mouth and deep into its brain, bursting forth through the iron-hard shell that had so far remained impenetrable.
Nefut crawled across the sand towards her husband. There was no bringing him back from the brink. All of the gifts of power Ragathiel had bestowed upon her were spent in the battle. The crucible of her final calling still burned white hot within her, divine energy permeating every pore… and deeper places she had not yet spoken of to her husband. “Do not despair, my love,” she whispered. She cradled his shattered head within her lap, and held it close to her stomach, close to her womb. “We are to be blessed.”
………………
Rakeesh Sah Tarna reclined on the silken divan. The dancer was lithe and graceful, her movement pleasing, and showing the promise of greater pleasures to come. A scantily clad servant tried to fill his glass as he swayed to the fantasia being played by harp and cymbal. With a squeak she spilled the contents of the decanter across his hand, and on the sleeve of his robe. His eyes, normally the color of molten gold, turned fiery red in an instant. “Worthless, craven insect!” he shouted. “What use have I for a servant such as you?” The flaming mane of crimson that wreathed his head whipped itself into a full conflagration, and the heat pouring off of him forced the terrified girl back.
His mood soured, he stumbled drunkenly to his pagoda. Once he had cooled the inferno within, he would send for the dancer and some more wine. However, within the palatial tent he found an unexpected guest. Nefut did not frequently travel. Injuries from battle and complications in birth had left her corporeal self broken and weak, though she still carried powerful divine magic. “Mother?”
“My son. I have come to beg you once again, turn aside from this life of petty idolatries and vice. You have such gifts within you. Do not treat them with such disdain.” She stood and steadied her son, holding his face in her hands, forcing him to look her in the eye. “I granted you your youthful indiscretions. I stood aside as you pursued this life of ease and purposelessness. I stayed silent while you became a wastrel and a bully. But, I cannot stand silent any longer.”
Rakeesh shook himself free of her grasp, nearly falling in the process. “What would you have of me, mother?” he scoffed. “I’ll not throw my life away on some foolish crusade.”
the words exploded from his mother’s throat, but they were not hers. The power behind them was so immense, Rakeesh was thrown to the floor by the very sound.
Blackness descended over him as if he had been suddenly submerged in the deepest ice-cold depths of the ocean. The last words he heard as unconsciousness took him was his mother pleading for his life…
I’m not sure “Sour and Dour” really describes Rakeesh. He is not a true believer in the sense of the Knight Templar or the Wide-Eyed Idealist. He believes that the path he is on does ultimately lead to death and with little or no chance of success. He’s not looking for reward or even a return to grace. And he believes that the world wouldn’t (shouldn’t) offer it in any event.
“Do not be deceived, Wormwood. Our cause is never more in danger, than when a human, no longer desiring, but intending, to do our Enemy's will, looks round upon a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys.”
— The Demon Screwtape, The Screwtape Letters
That said, he is truly remorseful and truly grateful to be alive. His purpose now, is simply to demonstrate that gratitude. As he gains levels, this will be represented by (likely) taking the Martyr Subdomain of the Nobility Domain. How I will reconcile the Mythic Power will depend mostly on the final version of the Mythic rules. Most likely he will come to see it as a second opportunity to do the right thing.
Whew! Man, VoV... You sure don't make it easy...
I'm struggling to get a feel for this character, so it's probably not my best work, but here the state block. TVTropes will have to wait, will try to get that stuff up before the deadline.
LN Medium Humanoid (human)
Init +3; Senses Perception +6
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Defense
--------------------
AC 19, touch 13, flat-footed 16 (+6 armor, +3 Dex)
hp 11 (1d10+1)
Fort +3, Ref +5, Will +2; +2 trait bonus vs. fear and compulsion when acting in service of liege or legitimate leader
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Offense
--------------------
Speed 20 ft.
Melee Cold Iron Light flail +3 (1d8+4/x2) and
. . Gladius +3 (1d6+2/19-20/x2) and
. . Javelin +1 (1d6+4/x2) and
. . Light flail +5 (1d8+4/x2) and
. . Sap +5 (1d6+4/x2)
Ranged Amentum +4 (1d6+4/x2)
Special Attacks favored enemy (chaotic outsiders +2)
Ranger Spells Prepared (CL 0):
--------------------
Statistics
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Str 18, Dex 16, Con 12, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 8
Base Atk +1; CMB +5; CMD 18
Feats Quick Draw, Two-weapon Fighting
Traits Armor Expert, Authoritarian (Third trait to be chosen from Player's Guide)
Skills Acrobatics +0 (-2 when furthen than 10 feet from a fallen ally, -4 jump), Appraise +0 (-2 when furthen than 10 feet from a fallen ally), Bluff -1 (-3 when furthen than 10 feet from a fallen ally, +1 vs. chaotic outsiders), Climb +5 (+3 when furthen than 10 feet from a fallen ally), Diplomacy -1 (-3 when furthen than 10 feet from a fallen ally), Disguise -1 (-3 when furthen than 10 feet from a fallen ally), Escape Artist +0 (-2 when furthen than 10 feet from a fallen ally), Fly +0 (-2 when furthen than 10 feet from a fallen ally), Heal +2 (+0 when furthen than 10 feet from a fallen ally), Intimidate -1 (-3 when furthen than 10 feet from a fallen ally), Knowledge (dungeoneering) +4 (+2 when furthen than 10 feet from a fallen ally, +6 vs. chaotic outsiders), Knowledge (nature) +4 (+2 when furthen than 10 feet from a fallen ally, +6 vs. chaotic outsiders), Knowledge (planes) +1 (-1 when furthen than 10 feet from a fallen ally, +3 vs. chaotic outsiders), Perception +6 (+4 when furthen than 10 feet from a fallen ally, +8 vs. chaotic outsiders), Ride +0 (-2 when furthen than 10 feet from a fallen ally), Sense Motive +2 (+0 when furthen than 10 feet from a fallen ally, +4 vs. chaotic outsiders), Stealth +4 (+2 when furthen than 10 feet from a fallen ally), Survival +6 (+4 when furthen than 10 feet from a fallen ally, +8 vs. chaotic outsiders, +7 to track), Swim +5 (+3 when furthen than 10 feet from a fallen ally)
Languages Common
SQ overprotective, track, wild empathy
Other Gear Breastplate, Amentum, Cold Iron Light flail, Gladius, Javelin (6), Light flail, Sap, Ranger's kit, 45 GP
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Special Abilities
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Armor Expert -1 Armor check penalty.
Authoritarian +2 to save vs. fear and compulsion when acting in service of liege or legitimate leader.
Favored Enemy (Chaotic Outsiders +2) (Ex) +2 to rolls vs Favored Enemy (Chaotic Outsiders).
Overprotective -2 to attacks and skill checks when further than 10 feet from a fallen ally.
Quick Draw Draw weapon as a free action (or move if hidden weapon). Throw at full rate of attacks.
Track +1 Add the listed bonus to survival checks made to track.
Wild Empathy +0 (Ex) Improve the attitude of an animal, as if using Diplomacy.
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Answers! Sorry this took a couple days, I missed my set of questions in the flood. Whoops.
Q: How did a tribe of halflings survive in the harsh climes of the Realm of the Mammoth Lords?
A: The tribe lived in one of the hidden warm valleys within the Tusk Mountains (one of the places where dinosaurs hang out). As for getting there in the first place, that's unknown to their people (particuarly since they're all dead now), but I surmise they came through the tunnels of the Earthnavel ages ago.
Q: Why a leopard?
A: I think I went with a tiger, actually: But I'd debated a leopard. There's two different answers for that choice, one thematic and one mechanical.
Thematic: The tiger presents more of a contrast to Tip's small stature, creating a fun visual in my head as well as making a bit more sense that beasts like that allowed the halflings to survive in a realm filled with dinosaurs and other deadly threats. Not to mention, a tiger is the first thing my brain jumps to when I think of a jungle cat.
Mechanical: The tiger is deadlier and can be ridden right off the bat. When I first thought about a leopard, it was because I liked the idea of the team being extremely fast and compact (i.e. still only taking up a Medium space), but I couldn't ride it until the cat advanced, which would be several levels, and that sort of defeated the whole 'cat rider' thing.
On the other hand, if you meant why did Tip go find a tiger: That would be because he felt like it would be appropriate to begin his demon-hunting career with one of the spirit guides of his people at his side. When he was nearing the Realm (not really knowing precisely where to find his people's ancestral home), he came across the abandoned tiger cub Rutha, and took it as a sign that this should be his Bond Creature.
Tentatively I'll put in a marker for another 24 hours of recruitment from the time of this post, before I close the doors to any further interest.
Will get to feedback and commentary later tonight when I'm able - work day was full today.
Update: Another chunk on Reknars' backstory added.
DM VoV, will you consider only the fully finished submissions at the deadline? Not sure I can flesh out his background as fully as I'd like in that time frame.
Reknar - bare minimum for consideration is a short background to consider an application complete. The background must explain why you have come to Mendev and why you joined the crusade against the Worldwound. - so you are fine.
Ok, great.
I will keep working on his background though cause now I'm hooked :D
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Tentatively I'll put in a marker for another 24 hours of recruitment from the time of this post, before I close the doors to any further interest.
Will get to feedback and commentary later tonight when I'm able - work day was full today.
I'll try to make sure I get something in before the deadline, if I don't well then obviously the character just isn't interesting enough to me anyway.
So most glorious plan of reviewing-ness and feedback was skilfully skewered by a little one (1 AM and no sleep and counting).
Heh... Considering how amazed I am that between a job and a family, you still manage to be so active in PbPland both as a player and a DM, I am sure we can forgive this little... transgression, or rather miscalculation of yours. :-P
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Yeah, I don't miss those days a bit. Now all I worry about when my kids are out late is whether they have charged phones with them and whether they're going to encounter an idiot driver.
Incidentally, for the lucky group that gets chosen, here's some music, a cautionary tale on the perils of too much ego in the Five-Man Band.
Incidentally, for the lucky group that gets chosen, here's some music, a cautionary tale on the perils of too much ego in the Five-Man Band.
Thank you for sharing that! Immensely entertaining!
Sigh... Everywhere I look, now, I see Freudian Trios. Here's hoping I get to be The McCoy, in this one!
Sigh... Everywhere I look, now, I see Freudian Trios. Here's hoping I get to be The McCoy, in this one!
Hmm? Care to elaborate? I am curious as to what you mean.
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Good afternoon to the DM and the other applicants. Much like Celeador, I wish to introduce myself - DM Barcas - prior to pitching this character. I will actually follow his format, as I found it to be very helpful. I am a long-time poster with a strong posting history, with over 5,500 posts - most of which are in the Play-by-Post forums.
I DM two games, both of which (like Celeador's) are very roleplay-heavy. The first of them, my Kingmaker campaign, is over 4,400 posts long and coming close to three years old. (I'm very proud of this campaign. I have been well-blessed with a number of good players.) The second is my Skull & Shackles campaign, which is far newer and has about 500 posts. I tend to deviate heavily from the campaign as written, and I collaborate strongly with my players.
I have a number of interesting characters that I play here on the boards. The one I am most proud of is in Celeador's campaign: Mikhail Halancoun, dhampir prince and official group leader. I do not have any problem playing the group leader, and actually relish the role.
In real life, I am a homicide detective. As a result, my schedule can be unpredictable. I am also a father of a young child. However, I feel that I make up for it with quality posts and strong leadership qualities. I may occasionally not be able to post for a few days if I get hit with my responsibilities, but I always return and always try to give the DM and other players a heads-up. Additionally, I sometimes have a lot of freedom during my work day to post.
On to the character I am submitting: Pytros Ex-Lucarus, a whip-wielding exile on the run from his own people. He is a Fighter with the Lore Warden archetype. (I accidentally saved over his stat block. I will put it back in when I get back to my computer and Hero Lab.) He brings a number of good hooks with him, including a world-spanning conspiracy with a direct tie to the Worldwound and a villainous assassin trying to eliminate him for learning too much. He has flaws - convinced of his own superior nature, for instance - that would make him interesting for other players to play off of. He was raised in a totalitarian dictatorship of willing subjects, only to later turn his back on them when he discovered (part of) the truth about their methods. While he now strongly prefers freedom, his heritage and upbringing are still central to his mindset.
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HISTORY
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Pytros Ex-Lucarus was born into a society of privilege and plenty. Born in 4692 AR on the island-nation of Hermea, he was raised by the specialists along with the other children of his generation. While the Hermean government kept meticulous records of his parentage, he was raised with no contact with them. The family unit is non-existent on Hermea, as child-rearing specialists are thought to be more effective. Based on the bloodlines of his biological parents, Pytros was assigned to the Lucarus, one of the thirteen blocs of citizens. Each bloc is known for the citizens that it produces, and Lucarus is known for producing decisive citizen-soldiers capable of protecting the Glorious Endeavor. The protector caste uses its intelligent tactics rather than brute force; if war ever darkens the skies of Promise, the entire body of citizens will be raised to defend Hermea - and they will be led by generals of the Lucarus.
Pytros showed great promise from an early age. True to the breeding program, he was stronger, faster, and smarter than the average human. He took to his education, drinking in as much information as the librarians and teachers allowed him access to. He mastered every weapon that was placed in his hands. He even learned the theories of magic, to better utilize the talents of the Magistratus. His favored weapon was the whip, despite the disapproval of his tutors for the unorthodox choice. He affixed a sharp metal stud to its end, giving it as much deadliness as any dagger - but at the end of a fifteen-foot arm. At the age of sixteen, he passed the Test of Citizenship with ease and signed the contract granting his free will to Mengkare's authority.
Pytros continued his education after being accepted into the Citizenship. Between his deployments protecting the shores of Hermea, he studied as the assistant to Marcus Ex-Voturia, a scholar specializing in the Outer Planes. Marcus and Pytros quickly bonded, despite being of different generations and different castes. Each respected the intelligence and talents of the other, and Pytros came to view Marcus like a father.
Pytros also gladly did his duty to the Glorious Endeavor when he was assigned a mate. His chosen partner, Livia, was of the Magistratus caste. Their partnership lasted a year until it bore fruit. When Livia became pregnant, she left to bear the child, and Pytros awaited his next romantic assignment.
In 4711 AR, Pytros was deployed to the shores of Hermea in charge of a small squad of citizen-soldiers. Their duty was to protect the Glorious Endeavor through any means necessary. Any ships attempting to make it to shore were to be sunk, as all sanctioned trading partners know to use only the foreigner's quarter in Promise. His patrol spotted a ship, bearing no flag and showing no signals, sailing within the territorial waters; a squall had seemingly pushed it off-course. After they exhausted attempts to contact the ship - magically and through signals - Pytros ordered his citizen-soldiers to attack the ship. Their combination of siege weapons and magic made quick work of the ship, which quickly ran aground as its crew fled. Per their standing orders, the citizen-soldiers defend the shores by killing the sailors as they arrive. Pytros personally led the investigation into the ship before destroying it entirely. What he discovered on board the shipwrecked ship changed his life forever.
Pytros discovered a tome of meticulous records, written in a strange language that appeared to be a combination of Draconic and Abyssal. He took the book, written in blood and bound in skin, to Marcus for translation. Marcus spent a month translating the tome, relaying his horrified findings to Pytros. According to the book, the power of the Wardstones that bind the Worldwound could be corrupted and used to produce great changes in human evolution. Pytros and Marcus realized that this process would weaken the Wardstone, perhaps even destroy it - which would mean the deaths of thousands of people that relied upon the Wardstones for safety.
Pytros could not have been aware that the upper echelons of Hermean society have been controlled by Templars of the Ivory Labyrinth, a secret society dedicated to the agenda of the demon lord Baphomet. For over a century, they have meddled in human evolution on Hermea to produce a "superior" specimen of humanity - one that would follow orders without question and without fail. It was for the Templars and their agents on Hermea that this tome was intended.
When Pytros and Marcus came forward to the Council of Enlightenment - the thirteen citizens who advise Mengkare and run the daily affairs of governance - with their discovery, they were told to turn over their research and forget about what they had learned. Pytros protested, as it would potentially mean letting many thousands of people die. He argued that it was their moral responsibility to send agents to protect the Wardstone, to protect the people of Mendev. He argued that it was their duty to offer protection and guidance for the rest of humanity. His pleas were promptly denied by acclamation of the Council - most of whom were members of the Templars of the Ivory Labyrinth, a fact unknown to him and most of the citizens of Hermea.
Pytros and Marcus returned to the latter's home, preparing to turn over the tome to the Council as demanded. They did not expect the assassin sent by the Templars. They fought the assassin in Marcus's home, which burned around them from the wizard's fire spells. The dark-clad assassin killed Marcus with his curved blade before turning his attention to Pytros. Pytros fought off the assassin, eventually buying enough time to flee by using his whip to bring down a weakened part of the burning house on top of the assassin. As he fled, he saw the assassin without his mask; it was a tiefling male with violet skin, one red eye, and one blue eye. He fled with nothing but a Marcus's handwritten notes, the clothes on his back, and his whip.
Pytros was hunted throughout Promise for three days. He learned that he was wanted for killing Marcus, and that he had been stripped of his Citizenship for his crimes. He eventually found his way to the docks, where he snuck aboard a ship, the Empty Lighthouse. He hid himself from Promise's guards as they searched the ship, using his whip and his strength to maintain a hiding spot on the underside of the ship's bow. When the ship set off for port, he made his way on and offered his service to the captain - a former pirate called Henray Morgan Jonas - in exchange for the trip.
Pytros stayed with the crew of the Empty Lighthouse for a year, always on the move from port to port. He went by several aliases, trying to maintain a low profile, but the tiefling assassin found him twice more: once in the streets of Sothis, and once again in the back alleys of Absalom. Only through his wits did he survive and escape, finding his way back to the Empty Lighthouse and convincing Captain Jonas to set sail immediately. After the second attack, he parted ways from the Empty Lighthouse at the Andoran port of Souston.
Pytros headed north, making his way to Mendev. Hiding for a year had not thrown his hunters off his scent, and it was time for him to put his own words into action. He knew that he had a moral obligation to protect Mendev's people by warning them about the Wardstone - even if it was a warning that would be delivered in passing as he stayed on the move. He traveled north in a caravan of traders and crusaders, making his way through the rough lands that border Mendev. He arrived in Kenabres, only to find that he is too late...
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APPEARANCE & PERSONALITY
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Pytros is, by all appearances, the next stage of human development. He is handsome, with a square jaw that fills out his blond hair and blue eyes. Even dressed in clothing intended to minimize his appearance, Pytros stands out in a crowd. He is well-muscled, even chiseled. His eyes, however, are his primary feature. They flash with intelligence, constantly scanning the world around him while looking for anything he can use to his advantage. His appearance and intelligence seem at odds with one another, yet complement each other well.
Pytros is quite moral in his outlook. His experience of being an outlaw has changed his views greatly since his exile began. He no longer trusts any government or hierarchy to protect the people. While his views on law and society have changed drastically, his heavily-ingrained worldview regarding humanity has not. He views himself as superior to humanity - even though he readily admits that many "normal" humans can surpass him in certain areas - and sees it as his obligation that he must protect other humans. He tends to look down upon non-humans (except for elves and half-elves) as alien throwbacks, though he saves his outright contempt for tieflings.
Personality Traits
Leukine: Pytros was born and trained for military leadership. He is decisive without being too aggressive or too cautious. He is fairly level-headed and task-oriented.
The Leader: He is a strong and capable leader, thanks to his training and temperment. He views leadership as both his responsibility and his birthright.
Utopia Justifies the Means, Freedom from Choice: Subverted. Pytros was a willing - if unaware - participant in Hermea's Glorious Endeavor until he learned something that he was not supposed to know. He has become painfully aware of how wrong he was.
Fantastic Racism: He is of the belief that he is of a superior version of humanity. He strongly dislikes tieflings, and merely tolerates the presence of other non-human races. He views himself as more than regular humans, who he looks at with a paternalistic affection.
Character Traits
Genius Bruiser: Pytros is a very capable warrior, but he also knows how to leverage his intellect into action.
Super Soldier: He was specifically bred and trained to act as a military leader.
Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death: He believes strongly in freedom for the sake of freedom, having seen the contrast between Hermea and the rest of Golarion. His long-term goals include freeing his brethren in Hermea.
Awesomeness by Analysis: Pytros often finds ways to influence the battlefield beyond brute force.
Influences
Tavi (Codex Alera): He is similar to Tavi in the use of unorthodox methods of problem-solving. I don't want to spoil the series if you haven't read it.
John Harrison (Star Trek: Into Darkness): Pytros is quite similar to Harrison, in that he is essentially a transhuman with a remarkable ability to combine violence with analysis. (He is not, however, evil.)
Harrison: I am better.
Kirk: At what?
Harrison: Everything.
-Star Trek: Into Darkness
20/25 Point Buy: Pytros has the Leukine (balanced) temperment. The above tropes apply to him.
Class: Pytros offers a well-trained, disciplined soldier with strong initative capable of leading a squad with minimal oversight and guidance. He is also an expert on several subjects, including spellcasting theory and outsiders.
Character Wealth: See the appearance section for a physical description of Pytros. He has a book of notes written by Marcus as an heirloom item. (This book of notes is a masterwork tool for Knowledge: Planes check, granting a +2 circumstance bonus.)
Traits: Pytros has the Hermean Paragon (+2 to Initiative) regional trait and the Carefully Hidden (+1 to Will, +2 vs. divination) traits because of his birth and exile from Hermea.
Bonus Trait: He was not raised to worship the gods. While he recognizes their power, he does not actively worship or venerate any patron deity.
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I hope to be picked. (Especially if Celeador's character is picked, as he and I have yet to be players in the same campaign.) Please let me know if you have any questions I can answer, or points that you would like me to elaborate on.
You know, just by glancing at the application, I knew it was you before reading the introduction. Moving my mouse over the alias simply confirmed it. Sigh... :-)
@Barcas - *slow clap*
Wow. So, how many spots are left after Celeador and Barcas? And to think I was concerned about competing with all of the other great applications...
I agree. I'm happy just to be here to read these applications. Shows me what I need to aim for.
Man Barcas, I don't know how you and Celeador do it. It's too painful watching my creations die on the DM's cutting room floor for me to breath so much life into a submission.
@Barcas - *slow clap*
Wow. So, how many spots are left after Celeador and Barcas? And to think I was concerned about competing with all of the other great applications...
Going by DM VoV's opening post, 3-4 depending on the final size of the group. :-)
Most Impressive.
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Man Barcas, I don't know how you and Celeador do it. It's too painful watching my creations die on the DM's cutting room floor for me to breath so much life into a submission.
The act of creating a character--a persona--is never really wasted, regardless of whether the character gets picked. (Granted, it's more fun when you are, but still.) Maybe the character will end up as an NPC. Maybe it'll be pulled out and tweaked a little for the next recruitment thread. Maybe it'll be turned into a PFS character, or used in a F2F game. Or maybe for some people making characters is a fun activity all by itself. It's not like creativity is a zero-sum game (though, sadly, spare time is).
Sigh... Everywhere I look, now, I see Freudian Trios. Here's hoping I get to be The McCoy, in this one!Hmm? Care to elaborate? I am curious as to what you mean.
Nothing overly complicated. Just suddenly reevaluating TV, movies, literature, etc., in a whole new light.
Since my character is built as the Mccoy-Lancer to the Leukine Kirk-Hero, I'm hopin he'll be selected as such.
That's all I meant.
Fanguar, don't say that, your a great player. I love Barnabas, you got great writing chops.
Geez now you make me feel like I was trolling for compliments ;)
.... It's not like creativity is a zero-sum game (though, sadly, spare time is).
Oh I agree, I wan't saying it wasn't worth the effort. I enjoy creating character concepts, it's just that you invent this individual that you would like to explore and evolve and then poof he/she is gone (At least for me, I don't generally recycle characters). Which is fine, I've always got a couple of concepts kicking around in my head, but it's still disappointing.
That being said, PCs are never that far away from oblivion, especially at low levels.
But the drive to keep up, to improve herself, was something that has slowly grown stronger. Eventually she wouldn't want to just keep up, she would want to go faster. She would not want to kick a ball, she would kick it the furthest. Her side would usually win games, as she would outcompete everyone else. She was not a sore winner, and did not do it out of pride or spite, but the wondrous thrill, the blood pounding, the joy of success. She would not understand the addictive power of this success.
She didn't win at everything. In fact, when she lost it was often in spectacular fashion. Leading a race, she might disappear down a burrow hole. Climb a tree, she would reach the top first to find a limb previously lightening-struck that gives way in her hand. And her sense of direction was terrible, despite a life on the road...it was just the boredom of the slow travel was beneath her notice. Her father gave her a whistle, he said it was a magic whistle, and that if Nessa ever found herself lost or stuck, she was to blow it and help would find her. Nessa has taken to wearing it around her neck, as she has been called on several times to need to summon help after feet had caught in rocks, slipped in a creek, or fallen in a burrow...again. Her father had the whistle blessed (by this he meant, he kept it in a small shrine in his wagon that he dedicated to Chaldira Zozaristan) so the impulsive God might look out for his daughter when she got in trouble.
Over the years she found her friends wanted to spend less and less time with her and her intensity..especially the boys. Nessa found herself spending more time with the other caravaners, particularly if storytellers joiner their ranks. She devoured their stories, listening time and again to tales of pirates, giants, and dragons. But her time eventually came to be spent among the guards. They laughed at her and with her, as they taught her to use weapons around a campfire. She didn't mind as they were full of stories and robust language and she liked to laugh.
Her parents watched her change, but know there was little they could do. The caravan was too small for their daughter. They went through the world but did not experience it. A weaver's wagon served as a nice nest, but it was a profession she would never take too. She would not sit still long enough before designing some new game to race the shuttle through the weft...to disastrous results.
It was a bandit attack that changed everything. The guards, mostly there to dissuade attacks, were hard pressed by a determined attack. Hearing cries of friends and animals, Nessa emerged from her wagon to have a guard fall right in front of her. Without time to think, she took his blade and fell in among the attackers. The dark and her size, allowed her to move unseen, and strike from hiding, helpful as the oversized weapon was awkward in her hand. But after a few bandits were dropped, it was not necessary to hide, the bandits will go down just the same....and it mattered not that they ran, she could keep up, she could still fight them.
But she could not catch them all.
Her parents could not find her in the aftermath, until her distant whistle was heard. She twisted her ankle in the rapid pursuit in the dark. When no more bandits were heard fleeing, and no one from the caravan came by to give chase, she blew the whistle, sure that they just needed to know where to come to continue the chase....but only her father came. He helped her back to the caravan. The trip was silent as she was angry and confused.
Upon reaching the camp she exclaimed that it was not too late to continue the fight, the bandit camp must be close, it would stop the raids on other caravans, but her mind refused to see the wounded and the dead and the broken in spirit. There was no more fight in them, the caravan was ready to limp to the next town, hire more guards and keep moving. The bandits will be the next caravan's worry, or the caravan might not come back this way untill the local authorities do something. They felt their goods and coins will bring change.....Looking into their downcast faces, including her parents, as Nessa urged for bravery and action, she felt it. Nessa knew she had to move on.
Nessa left the caravan at the next town. Her parent and friends gave her enough coin to get a new start and wished her luck. The guards gave her a weapon, a large sword modified with a smaller hilt, they said it befitted her stature. Once her ankle healed, she hired on to the local militia. After two weeks of mindless parade marching, she led a few of the more bored and adventurous militia guards after the nearby bandits. Nessa came back bloodied and battered, but successful. Two of the four guards also made it back, so they performed much better than the lazy Captain who refused to mobilize the militia 'for a few routed bandit lowlifes'. He had claimed Nessa and the recruits would be killed outright if she ever crossed their path...well she showed him. And he showed her out of town.
After two more towns full of useless soldiers sitting in taverns, talking of fights, Nessa began to suspect, most of these men's stories never occurred or were greatly exaggerated. And this realization shook her, as she came to realize these man were similar to the caravan guards who proved less than able. So all their tales too...and the story tellers?....were there no great battles in the world? No Bandit Kings? No Pirate Lords?
............................
Spending the night in a tavern, Nessa had to suffer the braggart guards and their tales and swagger toward the local females. But then she heard the conversation die as a heavily armored man entered the room.
He approached a table of three guardsman, and in a gruff voice asked, "Can I join you for a drink?" The men eye each other, as he signals the barkeep and sits lightly into the creaking chair.
"Free enough country I suppose, for the moment," one of the men finally says, after the warrior had taken to his chair.
The corner of the warrior's unshaved cheek raises, creating an ironic half-smile, "About that....."
Not ready to let him finish, all three spring from their seats, their chairs toppling backward and nearly colliding with the barman. One tips his hat, "Thanks for the drinks," as they each lighten the tray and move to another table.
Nessa was shocked at the rudeness and also very intrigued. She thought she knew what a soldier was, but those balding pot-bellied men carried weapons, but this...this was a warrior.
She gets to her feet and walks over to straighten one of the chairs. Upon climbing up onto the chair, Nessa stands there she asks, "Is that offer still open?
"Free enough country I suppose,.......for the moment,", he says, his ironic smile growing wider.
Nessa sits on the back of the chair, and watches the man closely as he signals to the barkeep to bring another, but motioning with his hands for a smaller one. Nessa smiles and shakes her heads and makes motions indicating a bigger one. She watches the man closely as she awaits her drink. The barman brings a pint and Nessa give her thanks to the barman and her benefactor. But she then gets a determined look on her face "Let me ask you something. If I told you there was a bandit cave a mile out of town would you get up and come with me to raid it and shut it down."
The warrior grabs his pint, she can see the scars on his knuckles, "No." He lifts the tankard and closes his eyes as he takes a long satisfying pull. When he opens them again, Nessa is already climbing down off the chair. "Wait, wait. Let me finish."
She pauses, "Why? I am not going to sit here and watch you get drunk."
With a shrug, "You could join me."
She rolls her eyes and then shuts them, smacks her lips with an "Ahhhh" Then the eyes snap open, looking the warrior right in the eyes, "No" and hops the rest of the way off the chair.
He reaches a hand out toward her, "Alright! Wait! You still didn't let me finish. No, can I at least get some dinner and sleep first? Tomorrow we get your Bandits."
Nessa breaks into a big smile as she climbs back up. She takes a big foamy mouthful of ale and laughs quietly. He raises his eyebrows to share in the humor. She giggles, "There are no bandits. It was a test. To see what you were made of."
"And did I pass?" He waves to the bar signaling to the barman for two platters of food to be brought.
"Enough to share a drink...and dinner by the looks of it. But I ain't seen you fighting bandits yet, just chasing beer down to the bottom of a cup. I have seen a lot of that going on around these parts and you don't do it any different than them."
"Are bandits a thing with you? I am hearing a great deal of bandit talk...I see the sword, quite impressive, so I take it you have used it against these here bandits." Nessa nods the affirmative . And here he leans forward and lowers his voice. "What if I told you I fight things much worse than bandits. Things that make grown men cry for their mothers at the sight of them...." But he stops and watches her face.
She furrows her brow and rolls her eyes upward in thought, "A test, huh? Trolls...naw too stupid. Vampires?...no wait...Dragons? That's a burn on the back of your hand. You fight dragons, dontcha?" The whole time, she is leaning in closer, until she falls off the chair back, landing clumsily on her knees upon the chair seat. The barman swings his tray wide to avoid her antics as he approaches with their supper. "He fights dragons, he does." she says as plates of roast chicken and potatoes are set before them.
"Don't be daft girl. He's a Crusader. Fighting the cursed demon folk. He is here to drag you off and set you on a castle wall so the host of hell don't have to go so far to drag you the rest of the way. Beer and dinner seems a small price to pay to lure wide-eyed fools like you up there. The price on his conscious has got to be great."
"Wait. I'm paying for this? What? Oh you meant.." she looks momentarily confused in the rush of information, the stories she had heard. Demons and the Worldwound were real? Not just idle gossip of drunken mercenaries? The barman waves her off with disgust and mutters something about fools and their heads.
She turns back to her companion, while still standing on the chair now. Having ignored the barman's outburst, and not making eye contact, he was shoveling in the first of his food like he might have forgotten what food tasted like. Hands on her hips she demands, "Why would I have to be dragged there? The Worldwound, right?"
The warrior sets to choking on his potatoes, and it takes a large mouthful of beer to dislodge the obstruction to his mirth. He give a full smile, giving her the sense that it was something he did not do often, so smiling, he wipes the foam off his lips. "Thanks for that image. but no, there is no dragging. But you saw those men earlier. You saw them run. They know what I am. Most sane people run. Most prefer a comfortable bed to the daily fighting and struggle against a horde of demons. I bring those foolish enough or desperate enough to join the crusade"
"Ain't there another group, because I ain't neither?
"Crazy? We get a lot of crazy....There are the brave. but...."
"Yeah, that's what I am. If you got the brave...
"Listen" and all laughter drains from his face and eyes. "We don't like the brave up there. Brave don't hang around. One wants to be smart. Being smart means avoiding being killed.
"But you kill them, right? You're smart and brave, I can tell. You fight them, and kill them, the Demons right? So they don't come around here and hurt people, right?"
You see, that's the part that most people don't like. It is really difficult to kill a demon, and to kill one permanently, well that is even harder. So a lot of the time it feels like fighting and killing the same demon.....there are planer laws mumbo-jumbo that say how long a demon stays in hell when slain, but it feels like an endless fight against a horde of endless enemies. Everyday we square off against Soul Bandits, as it were. Let me add, in fairness, I am a recruiter. The pay is not bad, but no one reti...."
Nessa picks up the large chicken leg, laughing, " AND you get paid for this? You had me at horde..." and takes a big bite of the roasted bird, letting the grease travel down her chin.
.................
Of course it was not so easy. After a mildly rowdy night of drinks, where Sgt. Merlton tried to explain the duties and actions of a crusader, diminutive Nessa had to prove to him her skill in battle. It was a hard session, the hardest she ever faced. She did land some blows, but they were few and far between. She felt he pushed her harder than he would have any pot-bellied town guardsman. He kicked, shoved, and tripped her on several occasions until she learned to start avoiding not just his weapon. He then gave her the painful news that she was skilled but just not ready for someone her size....but he quickly added the slightly selfish suggestion that she travel with him and hone her skill...(and share drinks and stories in the evenings).
He helped her realize her size was not a disadvantage, but actually pretty useful in a scrum, she just needed to keep her feet under her. Nessa also found she could entertain the sergeant and others at the bar with all sorts of tales she learned over the years. She saw they didn't care if they were true of not, but only that brave knights fought dastardly trolls. She saw her own story starting to roll out in a similar fashion.
It was not long before Merlton deemed her ready. He wrote a letter of introduction, something he did not do for the average recruit, beyond the typical enlistment papers. He explained ...twice...where to travel north, and sent her on her way...along with two other recruits, who could keep her on the right path. His route would take him further south, but he would be back in time when his recruitment shift ended. "Leave some bandits for me on the way or as I make my way back I am going to be bored," he says as he waves her off.
Just a Halfling, although she does not see herself as just half-anything.
Nessa is a vibrant Sanguine. She exudes a personality that far exceeds her small frame; short in height but large in stature. Brave to the edge of foolhardy, she will give it all to do what is needed to be done. Quick to laugh at a joke, even at her own expense, but quick to anger when others shirk duty and responsibility. Loves the Stories of Olde, and is ready to write a few of her own. Competitive to a fault, as she learned to enjoy pushing the skills of larger folk by increasing her own ability.
– Nessa enjoys the thrill of combat, the ultimate competitiveness of it. There are those that need to be fought, and she is more than willing to step up and fill that gap. In fact. she has difficulty understanding why everyone does not share this feeling.
”There can't be more than fifty of them. I'll be fine.” Thundarr of Thundarr the Barbarian
– Nessa has struggled from a young age to prove herself equal to the larger races, well she wasn't going to let the fact that a boy was racing her mean anything. Growing up as a lone halfling, she learned quick not to get hung up on a human boy, which translated to any boy. She has also been more disappointed by older men in positions of duty and trust being either just incompetent or just simply not good enough.
Hudson: “Hey Vasquez. You ever get mistaken for a man?”
Vascez: “No. Have you?”
Vasquez in Aliens
– Growing up pushing herself, Nessa has learned to ignore boundaries, be they social or physical. Nessa learned being quicker, stronger, led to her not being smaller and weaker. Decisive action and the quickness to back it up has gotten her this far. She pushes so hard, that her friends growing up grew to apprehend and avoid her. Her games and travels grew to an intensity that the other children grew to want to avoid after numerous injuries just trying to keep up.
”Do you want to live forever?” Valeria in Conan the Barbarian
– Nessa seems to have gotten the short-end of the storied Halfling Luck. It is never the small things, if Nessa is going to experience bad luck, it happens in spectacular fashion, sprained ankles, falling from trees, falling in holes, no ignobility is beyond her experience. She is frustrated but such events, but in the end tends to shrug (or even laugh) them off as she knows she did everything she could to perform at her best and if fate wants to interfere, well there is not much she can do about it.
“You know, Hobbes, some days even my lucky rocket ship underpants don't help.” Calvin of Calvin and Hobbes
– THIS. Enough Said.
The Boulder: "The Boulder feels conflicted about fighting a young, blind girl. "
Toph Beifong: "Sounds to me like you're scared, Boulder! "
[pause]
The Boulder: "The Boulder is over his conflicted feelings, and now he's ready to bury you in a rock-a-lanche! "
Toph Beifong: "Whenever you're ready- The Pebble! "
Toph Beifong from Avater: The Last Airbender
– The act of getting somewhere is usually beneath Neesa attention. Despite a caravan up bring...or because of it, Nessa feels every town looks alike. Her father drove the wagon, Nessa read stories or watched the landscape. Nessa carries a whistle for those often times that she wandered out of visual range of the caravan camps.
"I knew I should have made that left turn at Albuquerque." Bugs Bunny
Nessa is tenacious and will bring the fight to the enemy with no hesitation. It is not about the Demons and what they represent; It is the fight. They are evil and need to be fought. You need warrior who want to fight, and aren't afraid to fight. What does she bring unique to the fight? Her size. For so long she has tried to over compensate for it, now she has learn to use it to her advantage. She is used to opponents underestimating her strength and speed to their detriment. Nessa is a Two-Handed Fighter.
Not that that wouldn't be nice, but it seems a whole lot of hand-waving that gets in the way of sticking it to the enemy. Not that Nessa perhaps wouldn't make a great Paladin of Chaldira Zozaristan, whatever form such an avatar may take. But who is to say Nessa isn't already and that is how Chaldira Zozaristan rolls.
Barely topping out at 3 ft, Nessa displays a force of personality that suggests she is no fragile doll. She wears thrice-mended, but well taken care off, clothes. Very long brown hair she keeps in a ponytail, and unknowingly helps provide a counterbalance during big swings, with the long thin blade she wears on her back. Her skin is tanned and freckled from a childhood in the sun. Her bare feet are well calloused, but also show the marks of numerous scars.
Nessa is a extravert. Growing up in the caravan with so much time in markets and fairs interacting with strangers, has left her with no compunction of shyness. She is playfully competitive, and while she may take a contest to a crazy boundary, she does not do it out of a need to win, but a need to push herself. If bested, she is quick to laugh and congratulate the winner, because she will know they truly earned it. She loves stories (telling and listening) and the rough talk of soldiers. She sees carousing as the reward for good soldiering, and is quick to look down on those with unnotched swords, empty tales and full beer mugs.
Her whistle. A gift from her father, for the times she gets lost, or stuck, or strained, or trapped, or....... Her father built a shrine to Chaldira Zozaristan and asked the Goddess to look over his child. Nessa continues to carry the whistle for its usefulness and connection with her father. She grew up listening to his stories of Chaldira's great battles at Desna's side...some nights her father really regrets telling her those stories, and he would get up and relight the candles in his shrine.
Two traits that I came across that are perhaps not the most useful but best express her personality are Reckless (+1 Acrobatics and class skill) and Competitive (+1 to skill check if someone just tried a similar check). Others I considered were Courageous and Irrepressible.
She does not share her father's deep seated religion in the Halfling gods. To Nessa they were nice stories, especially Chaldira Zozaristan's exciting exploits. Nessa knows her whistle was dedicated to the Goddess, but is not sure that it does that much as bad luck still follows her (she does not contemplate that she always came through in the end). Nowadays she will give the whistle a small kiss before a big endeavor. She tells herself it is for luck, but subconsciously she may be ensuring that she has it at hand if needed.
Don't really know what will take to be selected for this one.
I'll just keep on toiling over Reknar in the hopes he gets picked, like most of us I guess -> By now I have given up trying to compete with some of the applications I see flying around, but hey! I can write down a background!
*mumbles to himself and returns to the cold light of the laptop screen*
Eudocia Fairday is the second daughter of a Taldan family whose noble history is unquestioned but whose present bank account is sadly depleted. The five sisters were therefore expected to marry up in wealth if down in prestige, their family heritage assumed to make up for their lack of dowry. When Eudocia had flatly refused both an cleric of Aroden and a young officer in the Taldan Horse, her parents finally agreed to allow her to study at the Kitharodian Academy in Oppara, largely to prevent her stubborn nature and recalcitrant attitude from rubbing off on her younger sisters.
While she showed no great talent at opera or other traditional performances, her quick mind and tenacity enabled her to excel at her studies, and she took advantage of her time in Oppara to explore all the capital had to offer, particularly Memorial Park and the Basilica of the Last Man. She gained an avid interest in history and ancient artifacts and was incensed as she learned of the perfidy of the Blakros family, who profited from selling her nation's past in the early years of the Grand Campaign and smuggled large portions of it out to Absalom.
Upon her graduation, she approached Lord Merriweather Stokes to advocate for the founding of a museum at the Academy that might one day rival the Blakros Museum. Her former would-be suitor in the Taldan Horse had tried to impress her by showing off various ancient knickknacks and gewgaws picked up from the rubble along the border between the Worldwound and Mendev by associates returned from a tour in the Crusades. Convinced that artifacts from ancient Sarkoris, not to mention any relics left by the early crusaders, would be excellent seed for the Kitharodean Musuem, she extracted authorizations and letters of reference from several high-ranking personages in Oppara, mostly through perseverence and force of personality. When the next group of glory-seeking soldiers left for the crusade, she had arranged passage along with them.
It's the Journey that Counts: However, since the AP is ultimately not about collecting museum exhibits, Docia will ultimately find that the experiences that she meets are at least as important as those she sets out to find.
Adventurer Archaeologist: Docia takes some inspiration from early River Song, before it turned out that she only took up extreme archaeology to catch her a man.
Lady of Adventure: She's also has a bit of Black Widow in her, only obviously far less accomplished at this early stage in her career. Also, this ups her survivability, as TV Tropes assures me she "[w]ill almost certainly live to become a Cool Old Lady.";)
Spirited Young Lady: She is additionally inspired by Jane Porter as portrayed by Minnie Driver in Disney's Tarzan.
Passive Aggressive Kombat: An education in proper Taldor society has taught Docia that a sharp tongue and rapier wit can be more devastating than any blade -- at least against the sort of rivals she had met in Oppara. The Worldwound is likely to require more deadly implements.
The man sighs. 'Very well, Miss Fairday; these papers appear to be in order. I can't just let you wander around a warzone by yourself, however. Sergeant, put together a group of recruits to ... escort Miss Fairday and see that she gets what she needs.' When the young woman has left his office, he shakes his head. 'I give her ten days before she heads back home with her tail between her legs. Kenabres is no place for a lady.'
AGLAMORE
Scarred Servant of Iomedae
This is Tarondor’s submission for Striding Into Hell: A Wrath of the Righteous Campaign.
The Player
I am a very consistent poster, usually able to post multiple times per day. I prefer interesting characters with solid connections to the story to perfectly min/maxed characters. I have been playing and GMing for more than three decades. I currently run one face to face game of Shattered Star and three online campaigns (two Kingmaker, one Savage Tide). I also play multiple characters on these forums.
The Character
"Faith is a knowledge within the heart, beyond the reach of proof." - Kahlil Gibran
"Be like the bird that, passing on her flight awhile on boughs too slight, feels them give way beneath her, and yet sings, knowing that she hath wings." - Victor Hugo
"Rescue those who are being taken away to death; hold back those who are stumbling to the slaughter." - Proverbs 24:11
AGLAMORE
Scarred Servant of Iomedae
Part I: Origins
Tropes: The Fool, Hero Worshiper, The Knights who say Squee
Aglamore was born to a poor family in Andoran in 4680. When he was just a boy, he was chosen to serve in the household of an important priest of Iomedae named Corminoth Wolmer (The Worldwound, p. 35). The young man took his duties seriously, and at the insistence of his master, became learned in the faith. Aglamore subsisted as much on the idealized tales of the crusaders, of Aroden and of Iomedae as on food and water. He longed to fight the glorious fight against true evil, without the slightest comprehension of what true evil was.
Aglamore came to love and respect Wolmer, seeing in him the living embodiment of all the tales he adored. He studiously applied himself to his religious lessons and began weapons training as soon as he was allowed.
In 4695, Wolmer joined the Fourth Crusade, packing up and traveling north to join the fight against the Storm King in the Worldwound. Just fifteen years old, Aglamore was permitted to come along as the priest’s attendant, though neither intended Aglamore to actually leave Mendev and enter the Worldwound.
Part II: The War
By the time Wolmer and Aglamore reached Kenebres in Mendev, Aglamore was sixteen and the war was going poorly. There were a thousand reasons. Lack of resources, poor leadership, insufficient numbers and so many more. The fifteen-year crusade was only in its fourth year, but already the awesome power of the Storm King was driving the Crusaders back on their heels. Desperate for fighting men around the city of Raliscrad, the Crusaders threw Wolmer and his men into a hastily-assembled relief force and marched them quickly up the Sarkora river.
Fatefully, Aglamore chose to ignore his master’s orders to remain in Kenebres. Donning his armor, he disguised himself with a stolen helmet and fell in at the rear of the march. It was two weeks before Corminoth Wolmer discovered his attendant in the midst of the army, and by that time the army had already fought several sharp engagements. The priest chastised Aglamore for his disobedience, but had no way to send him back, so Aglamore got his fondest wish - fight in the Crusades at the side of a great Iomedaen hero.
A month into the campaign, Aglamore’s army was overwhelmed by a much larger force of demons loyal to Minagho, the lilitu mistress of Raliscrad. Most of the army was slaughtered, but a strong resistance fought on under Wolmer, defying the demon horde until their commander appeared. So strong was her will that all were swept before her. Wolmer, Aglamore and a few companions were seized by the demons.
Part III: Hell in a Very Small Place
Tropes: The Good Shepherd
The crusaders, including Aglamore, were tormented, deprived, beaten, threatened and starved for months. Their numbers dwindled, but Wolmer kept up their faiths, preaching the word of Iomedae to them and healing their hurts when he was able. Then one day the guards came and took Wolmer away and he was seen no more.
The men began to despair, and one even took his own life to escape the never-ending torment. Aglamore knew he was no priest, but he had trained hard in Andoran, and wanted to keep the men’s spirits up while his master was away. He began to preach to his fellows, to bind their wounds and even to steal food when he could and give it to his fellow prisoners, a very dangerous act. In every way, he tried to emulate the noble Corminoth Wolmer.
One night as the prisoners languished, filthy and disease-ridden, one of them, a man named Jorismus, began to cough up blood. It was clear that the hour of his death was at hand. Aglamore prayed fervently over the man’s injuries and only slowly became aware of the silence around him. All the prisoners were staring at him. The sick man was whole and sound, breathing easy. It slowly dawned on Aglamore that Iomedae had worked a miracle through him.
The men’s spirits returned, and Aglamore became more dedicated to their survival than ever. He preached what he remembered of Iomedae’s canon and worked to keep their spirits from falling too low, a nearly impossible task when surrounded by such hideous cruelty. Jorimus the first soldier his prayers had saved, carved him a small wooden sword symbol of Iomedae, and that became the focus of his worship for all the years to come.
Years passed and his original companions were all killed, mostly in the bloodsports of the demons. New prisoners came and went as the Fourth Crusade wore on into its second decade. Degradation and depravation stalked them like predators, but they had one point of pure light among them: Aglamore. He never knew why the demons did not kill him, though they often brutalized him near to death. He suspected that they were simply trying to get him to despair. Many times he was on the brink of doing just that, but he held on for his fellow prisoners.
Part IV: Betrayal
Tropes: He Who Fights Monsters, The Dark Side, Fallen Hero, Big Bad Friend, Heroic Blue Screen of Death
One night in 4707, after nearly a dozen years of captivity, Aglamore was taken by the demons to see their mistress. Beaten, aged and starved, Aglamore believed he was going to be executed at long last, and to tell the truth, he welcomed the release of death. He prayed to Pharasma to judge him kindly.
He met Minagho the lilitu in her impressive throne room. She was both beautiful and hideous, with horns where her eyes should be. “Do you know why you have been kept alive for so many years, Aglamore?” she asked. “It was my gift to my lover, my high priest. He asked for you to be broken by hope and despair. But you haven’t broken, have you? Not in nearly dozen years. How delicious.”
“I’d like you to meet him now.” She gestured with a long and manicured hand. Aglamore looked over to regard the man entering the room in the hated garb of a priest of Baphomet. It was Corminoth Wolmer. Aghast, Aglamore struggled to speak, but found he had no words. His mind reeled.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Wolmer said. “The crusade and its goddess were both pathetic and weak. The Lady Minagho permitted me to see the truth of the real strength of Baphomet. I chose the winning side. I have been well rewarded.”
“You would not see the truth without my intervention, Aglamore,” he continued. “But you have made me very proud. Your endurance is considerable. So too is your reason. The crusade is over and your side lost. You do not have to die here. You...were like a son to me. Join me and live. Join me and rule estates as vast as you wish under our gracious mistress.”
Aglamore at last recovered his powers of speech. “You...traitor!” he shouted. “Monster!” Aglamore rushed at the high priest of Baphomet, intent on seizing his former master’s throat in his hands, but with a great crash of a demon’s club from behind, his lights went out.
Part V: Descent into Darkness
Trope: Crisis of Faith
Aglamore awoke in his cell, surrounded by the crucified remains of all the prisoners to whom he had been ministering. The laughing demon guards called out that it was his turn at sunrise. Aglamore found that he did not care. A dozen years of torment had not broken him, but that one moment in the throne room had. He could not pray, merely waited to die.
That is when the voices started. They were not comforting. They were seriously, fundamentally creepy. And they seemed to come up from the bowels of the earth. Judgment is at hand, they warned, and The grave is nigh. Even in his despairing state, something about those cold voices terrified Aglamore.
That night, a great beast escaped its handlers and careened through the fortress courtyard where Aglamore was hunched in a wooden cell. It was immense and its maddened ravings broke walls and shattered cobbles. It came near to Aglamore and smashed open his cage. He saw his chance at freedom...and then the ground collapsed beneath him and he fell.
Aglamore landed hard deep in the bowels beneath the Ivyfane, and here the voices returned, urging him onwards. He fled past ancient crypts and twisting tunnels, occasionally glimpsing here and there a shroud-draped figure. He ran and ran until his withered body could take no more and he collapsed on the ground, utterly spent.
Part VI: Resolve
Aglamore awakened a few miles outside of Raliscrad, free from captivity but still deep within the Worldwound. Over the course of a harrowing six months, he managed to escape to Fort Clearwater, Numeria and at long last back to Kenebres in Mendev. Slowly, his faith returned. Slowly, he recovered his old resolve to minister and heal as well as a hotly growing desire to confront his old master, though whether for vengeance or redemption even he cannot say for sure.
When he told his tale, the crusaders almost universally treated him like a pariah, an obvious tool of the cult of Baphomet trying to worm his way into their ranks. It took years to get his strength back and to acquire enough gear and respect for his service to attempt to return to duty with the crusaders, but Aglamore is determined to return to Raliscrad some day.
PERSONAL GOALS
Tropes: Good is Not Soft, Pay Evil Unto to Evil, This Time, it’s Personal
Three essential drives reside within Aglamore’s breast:
1) Nobody Dies on My Watch - Aglamore is sickened by all the death he has seen. He believes himself to be touched by both Iomedae and Pharasma, and is determined that no good person will die while has anything to say about it. He will go to almost any lengths to protect his teammates and will go to great lengths to protect the innocent. He has absolutely no qualms about killing evil, however.
2) Vengeance - Aglamore has seen the evil of the Worldwound. He’s back and this time it’s personal. He wants to be a terror to the demons, a holy cleansing fire that will drive them back to where they came from, then follow them there and burn it to the ground.
3) Redemption - A tiny part of Aglamore believes that a tiny part of Corminoth Wolmer still wishes for redemption and absolution. He wants more than anything to give that chance to his old hero. By extension, Aglamore believes that there is good in all mortals and some immortals. He looks for opportunities to turn the fallen back to righteous paths.
PSYCH TRAITS
SANGUINE and PHLEGMATIC (The Guardian) - Aglamore lives for others, to increase their strengths, to buoy their sprits. As much as he helped others survive in Raliscrad, that activity permitted him to survive. Keeping his mind on their problems kept it off his own.
CHARACTER TRAITS
1) Right Makes Might - Aglamore believes that as long as he remains true to Iomedae, he cannot truly fail. This can push him into risky and self-sacrificing decisions.
2) Do Not Go Gentle - Aglamore knows the awesome power of the enemy. If it is his fate to die, he wants to die with a weapon in his hands, taking as many of his enemy with him as he can.
PERSONALITY TRAITS
1) The Eternal Churchill - “A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship. But it is not this day. An hour of wolves and shattered shields, when the age of men comes crashing down! But it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good Earth, I bid you STAND! MEN! OF THE WEST!” - Aragorn, The Return of the King.
Aglamore does not believe in giving up. He has seen his darkest hour and come back. From here on out, it’s do or die.
2) Warrior Monk - Soldier and shaman both, Aglamore goes to battle knowing he is the strong shield-arm of Iomedae. He fears neither personal death nor dishonor. He fears only letting down his companions.
3) Holy is Not Safe - “Yea, though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil, for I am the baddest M***********r in the Valley.” - apocryphal, attributed to the United States Marine Corps.
Aglamore has been burned clean of hesitation, of the soft and knows without a shadow of doubt that what he is doing is RIGHT. That makes him very dangerous, indeed.
APPEARANCE
Aglamore is thirty-three years old, but looks fifteen years older. His face is weathered and thin, but his bright blue eyes speak of an intensity of spirit that belies his physical appearance. His hair has gone white at the temples. He walks with a slight limp, but holds himself with an palpable dignity.
CHARACTER CREATION REQUIREMENTS
To be more powerful (20 point buy) – tell me of your character’s personality and state which aspect of the Four Temperament Ensemble is closest to your character's outlook:
Aglamore’s personality (Sanguine and Phlegmatic) is discussed above.
To further hone your strength (25 point buy) – describe a few other tropes that apply to your character, and whether you play them straight or subvert them:
Tropes discussed in place above.
To choose one’s class – state what you have to offer the crusade (imagine you were responding to a recruiter):
“I have seen the war up close. I was a prisoner in Raliscrad for much of my life. I was saved by the grace of the Inheritor, of good Iomedae. It is Her command that I heal those who go to war and keep them safe. And that is just what I intend to do, with your help or without it.”
To gain belongings (average wealth for your character class) – tell me what your character looks like, and how they comport themselves:
See above.
To be richer still (max wealth for your character class) – describe one item you bear that was inherited from someone important to you, and how it came to be yours:
Aglamore bore only one item out of the hell of Raliscrad, and he bears it still. It is the small wooden sword carved for him by the doomed prisoner Jorimus. He regards it as a personal sign of Iomedae’s favor and wonders if Jorimus was not an angel in disguise.
To have skills borne of experience (two traits) – weave the skills into the background that shapes your character:
I imagine we might be presented with AP-specific traits when the Player’s Guide comes out. But in the absence of that, or in lieu of that, I choose the following:
1) Sacred Conduit. The hand of Iomedae is on Aglamore. Her holy radiance shines through him just a little more strongly than in some others.
2) Magical Lineage (Breath of Life). Though Aglamore will not realize it until he is more experienced, his fervent need to keep his companions alive will eventually express itself most strongly through one particular spell.
To gain the bonus trait Channel Divinity below – state your patron deity and how you venerate them in daily life.
Aglamore venerates Iomedae, praying to her and preaching her gospel frequently. He always paints his shield with a bright symbol of his goddess, announcing his allegeiance to anyone with eyes. He believes that a priest of Iomedae could have no higher calling that going into battle with crusaders, whether high or low.
Aglamore has also come into contact with psychopomps (the voices and shrouded figures in and below Raliscrad) and has come to regard Pharasma as a positive force in his life, but does not understand her motivations or those of the psychopomps.
So, how many spots are left after Celeador and Barcas?
With all fairness to all applicants I haven't selected any of the characters as solids yet. All I've done at the first pass is filter out probables from the more definite no's. I won't look to actually choose until recruitment is ended (tonight) and I've given each and every application an equal chance.
As of this post - roughly 14 hours or so? - It's 08:30 in the morning my time, and it'll probably be about 22:30 when I shut the door.
Legend:
Normal text - means you are waiting on me to do my review.
Italics text - means I have reviewed and asked questions, but no response has been received.
Bolded name - means that questions from the review have been answered, and you can sit tight waiting on selection.
Sanguine:
Meowzebub - Nessa Glenbrook - Halfling Fighter (Two-Handed) of Chaldira Zozaristan
- Half-Elven Chelish Magus - Hellknight Signifer
GM Fanguar - Orin Oakhammer - Dwarf Druid Menhir Savant of Gozreh
Viscount K - 'Tip' Tiplik - Halfling Barbarian / Beastmaster Ranger of Iomedae
Airon87 - Feyez of Giant’s Hill - Human Cleric of Kurgess
Choleric:
Teller of Tales - Shou-Pu - Monk of Irori
Celeador - Maeve the Scarred - Witch (Scarred Witch Doctor) of Demogorgon
Hilde Alfborne - Ravana Nazar - Tiefling Witch of Socothbenoth
Melancholic:
Viluki - Sarvin Drackar - Tiefling Conjuror
John Woodford - Melchesiech - Elf Admixture Evoker Wizard
DM Jelani - Ruarc Bataar - Tiefling Sin Eater Heretic of Ragathiel
HarbinNick - Bodelin the Blind - Dwarf Oracle of Stone (Torag)
Oneindiesoul - Kaledin Sunfire - Half-Elf Ranger of Iomedae
Phlegmatic:
Harrol the Pilgrim - Halfling Cleric of Iomedae
Fomeil - Tiefling Sorcerer (Abyssal) of Cayden Cailean
markofbane - Tauni “Rabbit” Desba, a Human (Varisian) Fighter (Archer) of Abadar
Sanguine and Choleric (the Artisan):
Mark Thomas 66 - Gregori - Paladin (Warrior of Light) of Ragathiel
gyrfalcon - Lenn Emnassen - Halfling Bard (Archeologist) of Desna / CZ
Choleric and Melancholic (the Rational):
shadur - Michael Carenae - Aasimar Paladin of Iomedae
mbauers - Theodric Abernathy - Wizard (Abjurer) of Irori
Enchanter Tim - Torean Spellbane - Dwarven Inquisitor of Torag
Melancholic and Phlegmatic (the Idealist):
F.Castor - Elf Magus (Bladebound, Hexcrafter)
Mark_Twain007 - Markus Lifender - Human Fighter
Aaliyah El-Amin - Human Bard (Dawnflower Dervish)
Javell DeLeon - Darnak Deepstone - Dwarf Monk (Sacred Mountain) of Torag
Lacsar of Senara - Chelish Monk (Zen Archer) of Iomedae
Phlegmatic and Sanguine (the Guardian):
TerraNova - Yarris Norrit - Cleric of Groetus
Rakeesh Sah Tarna - Angelkin Paladin (Sacred Servant/Oath of Vengeance) of Ragathiel
Tarandor - Aglamore - Human Paladin (Sacred Servant) of Iomedae
Leukine:
Kel the Guardsman - Devil-Spawn Tiefling Fighter of Ragathiel
Harakani - 'Sir' Aduard Vaklav - Human Cavalier (Tactician) of Erastil
DM Barcas - Pytros Ex-Lucarus - Human (Hermean) Fighter?
Joana - Eudocia Fairday - Human (Taldan) Bard (Archaeologist) of Soralyon
Unsure:
Reknar - Human Fighter
Bombadil - Aarol Varien, Choleric Half Elf Rogue
Peanuts - Broderik Wintrish
- Gunslinger?
Somewhere in the region of thirty five-ish applicants... I've got some reading to do ;)
Sorry if I did not make it clear, but Aglamore is a cleric. I'm happy to make him a paladin if that's what you need, but as of now, he is a cleric.
I'm thinking I shouldn't have used spoilers in my submission post. Now everyone who's copying my format (which admittedly I partially stole from Celeador in another thread) is getting way more attention from the other players. But then again, I guess that just makes me an attention whore. (o_0)
Can't wait for selection! So many good submissions here. Hope I get to play with some of you guys. Good luck everyone :)
as requested, repost of Aarol Varien, Choleric Half Elf Rogue of the Rake archetype:
Life is a four lettered word, no mistaking that. Being a half breed scavenger in a land of desperate folk didn’t make things any easier. It could have been better, he could have been better, with a different set of circumstances, but that wasn’t the hand he got dealt. The dirty streets of Daggermark and an elven mother with a bad pesh habit were his lot. Most of his early days were spent just trying to get a fair bite to eat, a full belly the reward for skirting the law. His quick elven reflexes a boon in deftly swiping a pie from a window sill, and his quick words an escape from trouble if he was caught pie-handed.
As boys do, he outgrew his neighborhood as his appetites increased. His mother barely acknowledged his goodbye when he left, her eyes glazed with the luxury of apathy granted by the cloud of pesh smoke. He was a fine fit to the culture of the River Kingdoms, a land of desperate men escaping their pasts and carving out new lives. But something greater called to him, something larger than taking what life offered or left unguarded. To the north he travelled, where travelers told of a wound in the earth that spewed demons and a host of heroes seeking glory and fame. A land where a man could claim a name of false nobility, or make a name for himself through merit. With a false banner attached to his spear, and dreams of big glory, Aarol found his way to Kenabres and the recruiter’s office.
“Greatest deed Luke Skywalker ever did was take down the Death Star, right? As far as I'm concerned, that's what everybody needs. You need that one bad-ass thing that lets you live on forever, you know.” - Hutch, Fanboys (2009)
“People think it's all about misery and desperation and death and all that sh*t which is not to be ignored, but what they forget is the pleasure of it. Otherwise we wouldn't do it. After all, we're not f*cking stupid. At least, we're not that f*cking stupid.” - Renton, Trainspotting (1996)
His driving force for joining the crusade is the desire for that ultimate moment of glory, that one special success that brings an incredible feeling of satisfaction and balances a life of being ignoble and dishonest. He wants to be a hero, but just can’t escape his own nature, and the crusades offer that chance at being a hero. It’s a microcosm of culture where he’s rewarded for cutting down a foe and looting his corpse for drinking money. It’s a place where he can be unsympathetic and vile, where he can revel in the brutality of hacking a beast limb from limb, all in the name of good.
“Well, here I am, anonymous, all right. With guys nobody really cares about. They come from the end of the line, most of them...got nothing. They're poor. They're the unwanted. Yet they're fighting for our society and our freedom. It's weird, isn't it? They're the bottom of the barrel, and they know it. Maybe that's why they call themselves grunts, 'cause a grunt can take it, can take anything. They're the best I've ever seen, Grandma. The heart and soul.” - Taylor, Platoon (1986)
“I've hired you to help me start a war. It's an prestigious line of work, with a long and glorious tradition.” - Vizzini, Princess Bride (1987)
A more retched hive of paladins and holiness has never been known. (that should be a trope, the anti-Mos Eisly) Hallways thick with smarmy bastards reeking of pride block any progress at the recruiter’s office. It’s a place of low men with lofty ideals. It’s a collection of anger and fury to match the moods of gods. It’s glorious. Aarol waits his time, ‘til the man barks the quick questions at him.
"What Do You Have to Offer the Crusade?"
His answer is simple, the only answer that’s acceptable or honest, "My Life." he responds.
"When Can You Start?"
He looks at the man sideways for a second, "Well, Now, I suppose, it’s not like I need a stinking badge or anything, right?"
"Any Next of Kin to Send Yer Sh*t After a Demon Guts Ya and Makes a Lute with Yer Entrails?"
He considers the pesh cloud surrounding his mother’s life and knows the money won’t do her any good, "No, no one."
The recruiter fixes Aarol with a serious stare, ”Why do you want to do this?"
Aarol glances sideways, quickly, then looks back to the recruiter and points to the banner on the wall, ”That, that banner of success, a chance to be someone bigger than I am, to make a difference on a grand stage, to gain a victory that can’t be taken from me.”
Though I had started with the idea of sanguine, the character I created is Choleric in humor, who knew?
For the tropes, I created a trope (with links) that describes the character and posted it earlier in this thread, Here.
A varisian father and elven mother provide his lineage and explain the long limbs, light brown locks, and charming good looks. A sparse beard coupled with defined muscle betrays his mixed elvish and human heritage, while a friendly smile deceives those that mistake it for kindness. Quicker than skillful, he relies on the threat of his elvish blade to intimate foes. His grandfather’s heirloom weapon, he took the blade when departing home, knowing that his mother would sell it for more pesh if he left it with her.
His capacity to offend people can be difficult to juxtapose with the intent to do good. It’s very unlikely that he’ll ever be asked to present a wedding toast or an eulogy, which is not to suggest that he won’t still get up there and tell horrible and funny stories about the person of honor. He assumes he has children, maybe even a couple of them, but he’s never met any of them, if they exist. Brash and overconfident, he can make friends and lose them with the quickest of ease.
“Just remember what ol' Jack Burton does when the earth quakes, and the poison arrows fall from the sky, and the pillars of Heaven shake. Yeah, Jack Burton just looks that big ol' storm right square in the eye and he says, "Give me your best shot, pal. I can take it." - Jack Burton, Big Trouble in Little China (1986)
“Kid, I've flown from one side of this galaxy to the other. I've seen a lot of strange stuff, but I've never seen anything to make me believe that there's one all-powerful Force controlling everything. There’s no mystical energy field controls my destiny.” - Han Solo
Please forgive my quoting the same movie twice. I watched Platoon this weekend for inspiration on building a character who's joining a ‘crusade’ where the people are really fighting themselves, as in Mendev, which is also the big point in the final speech by Taylor in the movie. But this line fit perfectly for Aarol as a follower of Desna and is delivered perfectly by Defoe.
“I love this place at night, the stars. There's no right or wrong in them. They're just there.” Sgt. Elias, Platoon (1986)
This is exactly how I imagine Aarol worshipping Desna, with a humble appreciation for something so much larger than himself. Under the stars in the night sky he finds comfort, there’s no judgement for what he does, for what he’s done, he just simply is, he exists as a single dot of light in a black landscape, no different from any other dot of light on that same dark canvas.
Harrol is a young, inexperienced man. He's far from unflappable. When it comes to the little things, he's easily embarrassed, flustered and visibly upset. Any attempts to press his buttons will likely work, but he takes these remarks in stride. 'Turn the other cheek' doesn't strike me as an Iomedaean mantra, but it's definately a halfling one. (Also no Napoleon complex. They're for chumps...)
When it comes to the bigger evils, Harrol will meet those with sheer incomprehension. Mass-murder, the slaughter of innocents, and demonic sacrifices. Senseless ending of lives that he, as a cleric of Iomedae, is supposed to protect. In short, the horrible things he's likely to encounter on the way to the Worldwound. Those are the things that will cause him to snap, to awaken the (figurative) guardian angel in his tiny halfling breast, and bring out his scary side. I hope that isn't a cheap answer, but there you go. I want Harrol to have to be pushed REALLY far before he loses his idealism. If the rest of the party lose heart, I want Harrol to be the example that drags them up again.
There's a lot of impressive applicants for this game. No matter who gets in, I hope someone else runs another version of this AP. There's enough good characters for three games in this thread.
That being said, Jebus Herbert Christ, some of you really need to be taught the glory of the Spoiler code. :)
Pytros is a Fighter - specifically with the Lore Warden archetype. His primary weapon is a scorpion whip, though he also has Improved Unarmed Strike. He has 9 skill ranks per level, counting the favored class. Most of them are in Knowledge skills. His long-term build has him going to Student of War and utilizing good knowledge rolls.
DM Barcas, Tarondor - Very enjoyable reads, great characters!
DM Barcas, Tarondor - Very enjoyable reads, great characters!
Thanks! I've enjoyed reading everyone's submissions. This game has certainly attracted some wonderful backstories and thoughtfully built characters.
One change I need to make now that I have banged out the application and had some time to think on the mechanics. Nessa is going to be an Unbreakable Fighter instead of a 2-handed. The innocence and strength of will is much more fitting then trying for a little more damage. It preserves most of the armor training as well, which will keep her mobile. Seems a small change, but now in my mind, it makes a big difference.
Aglamore / Pytros / Meowzebub:
Thanks for the updates - will correct the final list when I compile it again tonight.