Barbarians can become monotonous in my opinion, whereas if you haven't really played a witch, a new feat or hex at every level (or, with extra hex, a hex at every level) can be a lot of fun. Heal, Cauldron, Fly, Charm, Fortune, Slumber, Tongues, Ward... So many good choices besides evil eye/cackle.
^I'm still kinda on the fence about submitting a character (trying to judge if I could effectively juggle potentially being in another PbP game) but one of my ideas was also for a witch. I'm pretty sure that you're right in that Charm and Slumber won't affect the mindless dead, but there are also other potential dangers such as other (living) monsters and crazy looters and such. Alternatively, a witch could take the Elements patron to give them a little more direct firepower if they didn't want to play as a support character all the time.
Personally, I'd just say to apply with whatever character concept that you want to play the most or think you'd enjoy playing the most :)
@Polonius: alchemist materials for bombs and infusions are part of a class ability, much like spell components are for wizards, and as such I've no intention to govern these with arbitrary supply gathering rules. I'll assume you're picking up bent nails and scraping lichen off walls rather than nipping down to the local Bomb-Mart for your needs, much as we all assume that wizards pick up any bat guano they find! The same goes for containers, I'll assume you have a variety of re-useable test-tube sized thingamies for your infusions, and as for bombs we'll handwave and assume you're making their shells from any paper or fragile bottles you find. On the chance you find yourselves trapped in a cave or floating in water then I may ask you to make some rolls to MacGyver up some components from your existing supplies, but otherwise you're fine. Also if we're talking expensive material components such as diamonds then yes you will have to find them somehow in game, but day to day stuff let's not worry about!
@Lilith: Ah a wizard! Thank you kindly for your submission :)
@Feuerrabe: All good if you want to withdraw Rayla and submit Sirina, it's entirely your choice, but you must pick only 1! And yes, undead are immune to mind-affecting spells unless you have an ability that says otherwise...
@Lady: Ah come now, I have every faith you can handle just one more PbP ;)
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Lilith took the Breath of Experience feat, which gives her +2 in all knowledge and profession checks and allows her to make those skill checks untrained. That is why she has+6 to so many. She is only trained in Arcana and Religion, but can make skill checks in any of the knowledge skill like she is trained at +6.
She is also trained in Alchemy to help the group. But can use any profession skill at +2 to help as well. So she can fish, or garden, or butcher or brew or engineer, or trap or tan leather, or just about anything.
If you like I can add a breakdown of where the points are spent in her crunch. I was more focused on her back story than making the crunch pretty. Tried to incorporate a little world history into her story.
Very clever choice of feat Lilith.
As for mind-affecting hexes, yes, I meant for the living. Charm especially seems important as making friends with survivors is much more efficient than survivors fighting each other.
I got past the whole, not being able to charm the undead thing with the undead bloodline.
Man, so many feats that normally don't see the light of day are suddenly viable options for a campaign like this. It's hard to know whether to take one of them or just go with Extra Hex into infinity -_-
All these character ideas are awesome! Way to spur people's creative side Fiendish :)
It could be an effect of the other realms being cut off. Like how paladins and such cant feel their gods anymore.
I wonder how Geb did in this reality. After all it is a nation ruled by undead. Also, is baba yaga cut off from irisen. She is quite a power house. But then again I could see her writing the place off as a loss.
Anyway
charcter idea cloistered cleric.
the day my goodness a fast zombie. You don't see many of...ulp
Shortly there after Brains...brains
Ok, that won't work. LOL
Another question. Has the wildlife gone undead? If so is there an ecological colapse?
@Lilith: Ah, nice little feat!
@Lenneth:Thank you for your submission lady ladile :D You have til midday Sat to polish any rough edges!
@feuerrabe: ok, Rayla is to be your submission, noted. The loss of aasimar celestial resistance was not sparked by reading your character background, but by the realisation that such hefty immunities would trivialise some of the perils the party will face. Also reigning in the racial power level a bit so no-one is too far ahead of anyone else balance-wise. And no, no alternate racial trait to replace it either otherwise the race is still too far ahead of core. So, nothing changes for you except those resistances just disappear like they have never been. Call it a quirk of this particular parallel Golarion universe. If anyone submits a Tiefling, they'll lose their fiendish resistances too. Probably a good thing, otherwise they'd be immune to the GM ;)
@Kaars: Interesting idea about aasimars themselves being cut off from their divīne power. That would actually affect a lot of races, all elemental based etc given it's the material plane that's cut off from all others! But occam's razor rules here, we'll just retcon celestial resistances out of existence ;)
@Angelena: If the party meet either Geb or Baba Yaga then they are free to ask them how things are going ;) Also, as far as anyone knows, the magical plague only appears to target humanoids and the like. Your characters will have seen risen versions of most of the core races, as well as some goblinoids and orcs. No undead crows or dogs yet. Maybe the plague is waiting patiently for some kind alchemist to tinker with it and turn it in to an implantable virus..? Not to worry, you're fairly sure Sandpoint doesn't have a business called 'Parasol', well known for their underground labs...
Besides, if the animals were infected then the zombies wouldn't have anything to snack on whilst they wait for the party to arrive!
I do not envy GM Fiendish.
It will be difficult to choose my companions from among so many good applications. Wait ... what do you mean I'm not automatically chosen?
I've been tinkering with Shomari a little, but nothing worth reporting yet.
I'd just like to say that I'm fine with Fiendish (or anyone really) using the Half-Turned race I created for Dashuun, whether I'm selected or not. I had fun making it anyway.
Anyone played that flash game "Sonny"?
@Feuerrabe: no worries
@Shomari: I do indeed have an epic-level choice ahead of me, always nice to get so many applications but I hate to think how many I will be forced to disappoint :(
@Dashuun: Thanks for letting us know :)
So, taking over from Big OM's work (thanks again!) I believe the roster is currently:
Martial
Conman - Logandi Velos - Ifrit Rogue
Bane 88 - Olo Green - Halfling Rogue
True Repentance - Kaars Aarden - Ratfolk Alchemist
Void Dragon - Lucas Frigidum - Human Ranger
Helikon - Azmerai - Half-Orc Barbarian
D-Kal - Dashuun - Half-Risen Ranger
gyrfalcon - Turrey Butterhill - Halfling Rogue
shomari kali- Hobgoblin Ranger
beldarion velren- Human Ranger
silas crow - Half-Orc Monk
Jeggred Azrinae - Half-Drow Barbarian
Samuel Rannik - Human Fighter
Angelena Chillfist - Human Monk
Arcane
billybrainpan - Riko Blackbourne - Human Sorcerer
Algar Lysandris - Cedric Targayrian - Fetchling Bard
JamZilla - Polonius Fynch - Gnome Alchemist
Lilith Sylvari - Elven Wizard
Lenneth Barlow - Human Witch
Feuerrabe - Sirina - Human Witch
Divine
Lloyd Jackson - Safak - Aasimar Cleric
rorek55 - Daniel - Aasimar Cleric
Shout out if I have missed you or if you see something amiss.
@Algar: Revising this list I've been over character crunch again and of course your Fetchling Cedric has Shadow Resistances... I will have to ask you to remove this from the sheet for the same aforementioned game-balancing reasons celestial resistances were removed from the aasimars please. Thanks for your understanding around this :)
A little witch group sounds... charming. We just need to hex all the others. :D
I'll get the cauldron ready. You can start dancing and chanting, will join you asap!
I'll post my preliminary character, still working on the background.
Advancement Choices
1st: Fighter; Precise Shot, Point-Blank Shot, Starchild, Warrior of Old
Seldlon
M Elf (Kyonin) Fighter 1 Age 131
CG Medium Humanoid (Elf)
Init +5; Senses ; Perception +4, Low-light vision
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DEFENSE
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AC 1, touch 1, flat-footed 1 (+3 dex, + armor)
HP 11 (1d10+1)
Fort +3, Ref +3, Will +1
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OFFENSE
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Speed 30 ft.
Melee
Ranged
Space 5 ft., Reach 5 ft.
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SPECIAL ABILITIES
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STATISTICS
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Str 12, Dex 16, Con 12, Int 12, Wis 13, Cha 10
Base Atk +1; CMB +2; CMD 15
Traits: Starchild, Warrior of Old
Feats: Precise Shot, Point-Blank Shot
Skills:
Craft (bows) +5 (1 rank, 1 int, 3 class)
Perception +4 (1 rank, 1 wis, 2 race)
Survival +6 (1 rank, 1 wis, 3 class, 1 race)
Racial Modifiers:
Elven Immunities – immune to magical sleep effects, +2 vs. enchantment spells and effects.
Keen senses - +2 racial bonus to perception.
Lowlight vision
Weapon Familiarity
Woodcraft - +1 on Knowledge (nature) and survival, +2 in forest.
Languages:
Common, Elven, Sylvan
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GEAR/POSSESSIONS
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On Person
40 Arrows Backpack, Courtier’s outfit (Damaged), Dagger, Padded armour, Short Bow
In Backpack
Artisan’s tool, Bedroll, Empty flask, Flint and steel, Hunk of Meat, 3 Trail Rations, Waterskin
Carrying Capacity Light: 43 lb Medium: 86 lb Heavy: 130 lb
Money: None
Total Weight: 39 lb
===================================================
Background
Work in progress
Personality
;
Once a bundle of energy and happiness Seldlon is now marked by the Red Harvest and the flight that followed. He strides to become the person he once were, but he is simply to worn out.
Description
Ht: 6' 0"
Wt: 150lbs
Age: 131
Hair: Chestnut
Eyes: Green
Skin: A very light tanned hue
Not much of the glory of days past is left in Seldlon’s appearance. While he still stands tall compared to most of the other common races, much of his other features have lost their spark. His eyes are now dull, his hair dirty and unruly and his skin is paler than ever. The friendly, warm welcoming demeanour he once had has been replaced with a tried, worn out one, much like the damaged, dirty grey silken overtunic and trousers.
Hey all. Here is my background
Master Ho burst into the room. "Student this way!" With him were the caretaker and his wife, and a wizard she had never met. They all moved into out into the street "Master, what is happening?"
"A great evil has occured. We go to a place of safety."
Lights started to come on in houses around them, and peoples faces appeard in windows. They soon arrived at a temple of
Pharasma. "Inside, inside!"
Outside she heard loud noises and horrible sounds of fighting, screaming and snarling. Master Ho moved to the door and looked. He then closed and barred the doors. His face was gray. "the dead have risen, and they are destroying everthing." He looked at the wizard. "Take her and the caretakers to the cave. then return. I'll hold them off." He handed Angelena a pack. "Hold this for me Student. Angelena. This is my legacy if something should happen. Use it in that case."
The wizard cast a spell then the world changed. Angelina and the caretakers were in a cave. It was sparsly but comforatably furnished. "I'll be back soon". Then he vanished.
He never did. Angelina never found out what happened. The caretakers left within a day leaving her alone, saying they would find help. They never returned. Finally the food in the cave ran low, so she gather her gear and left herself.
She entered a world of horror. Undead of all sorts were everywhere, and only luck and her skills preserved her life. She joined a refugee column moving south. One by one, or in groups the colmn shrank, as the undead stalk their prey. Finally a group of warriors, a cleric and a wizard made a fiece last stand to allow the remaining survivors a chance to break free of the pursuit. It worked, sort off. They had only encounterd single undead for a while.
Angelena had seen much. Too much. Her goals are survival, at least for now. And to preserve her master's, now her legacy. What did her give her. A book. His handwritten notes on his style and his journal. She found comfort in it. But she realised she also was his legacy. But there was a great anger in her. She had seen them all fall. The good, the bad, the poor the rich, the smart and the stupid (admittitly they were a lot faster to fall) . Something did this. One day, if she was lucky, there would be a reckoning.
Umm, you mentioned asking geb or baba yaga.
is that likely to happen?
if so...awesome
and I actually meant the nation of geb
ha, cairn linorns will be having fun. The world is now full of snacks. Lol
ha, cairn linorns will be having fun. The world is now full of snacks. Lol
I feel the same way. :)
Brimlii Titanforge here. Dwarven fighter, master smith!
You are in a small group of survivors, immigrants to this tiny abandoned town, the name of which you read from a fallen post on your way in. Once upon a time they called this place 'Sandpoint'...
I've gotta say, when I read that, my head exploded.
Added some details to the profile...
He's got a lot of competition, but I need a new home for Gundar here so I'll throw him in for consideration as well!
Gundar is a male dwarven ranger that concentrates, skill-wise, on knowledge and survival. For this campaign he may also pick up whatever craft skill is required to make/repair bolts for a crossbow (though with only 50 gp, he may not start off with a crossbow...).
Please note his actual stats will be reworked from a different campaign, but here's his fluff, adapted for this campaign. Apologies for the length (it was already written, so I decided to just put it up...), hope it's entertaining at the very least:
Gundar was born in Boulderfast, a small dwarven hold nestled in an ancient mountain forest, to two seasoned warriors of the Forgelight clan. His mother was a captain of the guards and his father a renowned scout of the deep tunnels. In his youth, his mother was given the great honor of commanding the Gate Guards of his hold, those brave dwarves who keep the sanctity of the surface entrances. While Gundar's mother was needed near the surface, his father's place was in the deeps – and so Gundar went with his mother, for his father was often away from the holdings for many days at a time and could not care for their child alone.
Aside from this split, Gundar's youth was typical for a dwarf. He learned the ways of metal, gem, and stone. He took his turns pumping bellows for the hold's smiths. He competed with his friends in braiding their youthful beards into ever more complex designs. Life was slow, steady, and normal.
Until the fateful day in his twenty-seventh year when he saw the surface.
The noble lord of a nearby human settlement wished to visit his neighboring dwarven hold, in hopes of establishing a greater flow of trade. Eager to increase their wealth, the elders trotted out a full honor greeting, including the family of their gate captain. Everything went splendidly – the noble was well-pleased, as were the elders. Gundar remembered little of the goings-on of that day, though. He could not stop staring at the trees.
Tall, taller than any cliff of the deep he had ever seen, and spreading wide majestic branches far over his head. The leaves like translucent gems filtering the sunlight through a hundred-hued green prism. The pleasing interplay of colors, bark and branch and leaf and flower. Animals chittering and cawing in the foliage. Even the way the bones of the mountain rose up from the soil was beautiful to him. When the reception was over, he was loathe to be dragged back inside.
From then on, Gundar was as a dwarf possessed. He asked his mother if he might be able to visit the surface again, knowing even then that it was a very queer thing for a young dwarf to desire. She looked at him askance and asked why. Her child only mumbled a poor excuse about “not getting much of a look the first time,” and was denied.
Gundar went about his quest in a different way. Along some of the old high tunnels were old hidden doors, a measure of safety against seiges that had never come in the history of Boulderfast. They were kept under constant guard, but by the old and weary warriors. Gundar befriend one by the name of Old Hod, and spent many evenings keeping the venerable dwarf company.
Finally he managed to wheedle a favor from his friend. Old Hod opened the door to the strange world of the surface, allowing the youngster one hour to explore the immediate area. Over the next few months, an hour became two, then three, then six. Before long, Gundar was slipping outside at every possible moment. He learned the rhythms of the nearby woods, learned to identify squirrel and deer and wolf. He tried his hand at climbing trees and impersonating bird calls. Each time he would return and regale Old Hod with youthful exuberance. Hod was little help – he had traveled widely in his youth and often told tales of wildernesses great beyond even the ancient woods of Boulderfast's surroundings.
Like all good things, though, this eventually came to an end.
It was his own youthful foolishness that betrayed him. Gundar began to sneak a crossbow out on his excursions, wanting to try his hand at “some real surface hunting.” He turned out to be quite the deadly opponent to the local squirrels, leaving several of the quick little creatures pinned to high branches where he could retrieve neither bolt nor body – and it was this trail that led the druid to him.
One morning out, Gundar knelt, taking aim at a large black squirrel that had been chittering its taunts at him for days. He was just about to hit the release when there came a growl from behind him. He spun around to see a massive brown bear standing not twenty feet away, regarding him with a snarling mouth and an angry glare.
For a stunned moment, Gundar looked at the huge beast in fear. And then it spoke.
“Whyyyy, little dwarf? Whyyy are you killing them?” it said in Dwarven.
At this, Gundar's mouth dropped open in pure shock.
“You do not hunt for food, and these creatures pose you no danger. Why the slaughter?”
When Gundar still did not answer, the talking beast took a step forward, a low growl echoing from its open muzzle. Frightened, Gundar raised his crossbow with a shaking hand. Before he could loose the bolt, the bear reared up.
“I think... you would find that...” it said as it's limbs thinned and fur shortened.
“... to be a very...” it's voice was changing now, becoming less bestial. The head shrank and became more rounded.
“... poor decision.”
The bear was no longer a bear – it was now a human, tall and dark of hair and eye. It... He continued speaking as if nothing strange had happened.
“Answer my question, young dwarf. Why are you slaughtering defenseless animals, if you take no food? Why are you even out of your dim little tunnels?”
Still too shocked to speak, Gundar did the only other thing that came to mind: he ran, back towards the little door to the mountain hold. He had not made it ten steps before the strange human was there, grasping the back of his neck with one meaty fist as strong as the bear paw it had replaced, while the other snatched the crossbow from his hands.
“Some youngin' from Boulderfast, eh? Very well then.” And with that, he began to drag Gundar off, away from the secret door. Finally, Gundar found his voice.
“Stop, let me go! Where are you taking me?”
“Back to your people, of course.”
And so Gundar was dragged back to the front gate of Boulderfast and presented to the guards there. His mother was quickly fetched, and grew livid to see that her son had been sneaking around in the sunlight like a surfacer. The uproar at the druid's arrival was great. He was a powerful man, known to Boulderfast's elders, with a longstanding agreement to help safeguard their surroundings. Gundar was hauled before the elders to explain himself, along with Old Hod once it was deduced how the young dwarf had escaped from the hold.
There, in front of the wisest and proudest dwarves of the hold, Gundar broke down and told the truth about his love for the surface.
“I love the stone, honored elders! I do! But if the stone is a gem, surely the surface is the casement that makes it lovelier? Cannot that gold and silver be appreciated for its own sake? There are trees beyond our gates sir, with bark the silver-gray of the finest steel! The sunlight shines down as if sifted through a hundred different emeralds. Oh, please don't make me leave it forever, honored elders! I will make any repentance, swear and keep any oath! I will labor in the deeps for fifty years hauling gravel if that is to be the price of my shame. Just please let me see the surface again when those fifty years are passed!”
Gundar was sent out of the chamber while the elders conferred, and the druid remained with them. He waited there with Old Hod, and faced a new shame in his forlorn friend.
“I was wrong to let ye go, I was. Disgraced meself and all me long years of service,” Hod moaned. “By Torag's bearded berry-bag, I'm a criminal to the hold. Into the deep roads I'll go, to shave my beard and show my shame until I'm buried beneath my foes!”
Gundar did his best to console his friend, offering and then demanding to take the old one's shame upon himself as well.
“I'll be a laborer for a hundred years, then,” he said. “It doesn't matter. I just want to see the trees again after it all.”
They moaned their troubles for many long moments before the doors of the great chamber opened again, and the chief elder strode out with the druid.
“We've made our decision, Gundar,” he said. “You won't be sent to the deep roads, oh no. If you want a life on the surface, you have it.”
“Don't torment the lad, Vankuld,” chided the druid. Then he looked at Gundar with a great deal more kindness than he had shown before.
“We've an offer for you, Gundar Squirrel-Hunter,” he said. “I have a friend who lives some distance away, a ranger of the mountain forests. I would send you to him to learn his ways. You'll become a ranger like him. You'll learn of the trees and the mountain beasts, and many other things besides. Do you wish it?”
Before Gundar could speak, the elder broke in again.
“Think on it, Gundar. You're a dwarf and a Forgelight no less – not low in honor. This... dashing about in the dirt above, thinking on acorns and whatnot, is strange. No doubt about it. But we'll need dwarves who know the surface ways if we want to keep our gates secure. I'm asking you to shoulder your burden, and give your oath. If you take it up, you'll never to able to say this was a passing fancy. No matter if you grow to love the above more, or learn to hate it, you'll keep your oath or bring shame to your clan. What is your word?”
There was only a brief moment before Gundar answered, with all the enthusiasm a young dwarf can muster.
“Aye! My word is 'aye!'”
It was decided that Old Hod, as his punishment, would be sent to escort Gundar to the human town where the ranger lived, and he would remain there as company and guardian to Gundar.
For eleven good years, the dwarf learned the rhythms of the wilderness - until the night of Red Harvest.
Gundar was on a ranging through the woods when it came, and knew the Red Harvest only by a night of black dreams and terrible foreboding. The next day, even the sun seemed to shine less brightly.
Gundar hurried back to town, but by the time he arrived he found only the living dead swarming the smoking ruins of the humble dwellings. He skulked around the outskirts for days, carefully avoiding the dead things that prowled night and day, hoping to see some sign of survivors - but none were forthcoming. Certain that some had managed to come through this strange disaster, Gundar then made for one of his mentor's favorite forest lodgings - only to find a message hastily scrawled upon a boulder, indicating that the elder ranger had led what few survivors he had located towards a city to the west.
It was only three days later, as Gundar followed their trail, that he came across their risen corpses. The young dwarf barely managed to escape them, but at least managed to put his mentor's lurching carcass back to rest.
At first, Gundar made his way between cities, hoping for - but never finding - some sign of civilization that pulled through. Gundar is increasingly certain that the Gods themselves must have turned their eyes from Golarion, but surely all cannot be lost? Before long, though, he decides to head for home - the hold of Boulderfast, far far away. Along the way he first started to band together with other survivors, but those groups always quickly fell apart. Now, Gundar generally avoids the living and the dead alike, and has seen more than one band of survivors pulled to pieces while he watches, safe and silent, from a hiding place.
tl;dr (in which I just answer the DM's questions)
Where were you and what were you doing on the night of Red Harvest?
Alone in the woods, as Rangers often are. He thought he was just having bad dreams until he got back to town.
Have you had to do anything you regret in order to make it this far?
Gundar destroyed the walking corpose of his Ranger mentor in order to escape alive. He also remained hidden while he watched a bunch of other refugees get slaughtered.
Have you got family out there or just a strong desire to survive? What gets you through?
Gundar is trying to make for his home hold of Boulderfast, hoping the dwarven clans have come through this better than the surfacers.
@big OM: Thanks for your application!
@angelena: Thanks for the background. On the subject of the big BY and Geb, the major issue there is th?! In the beginning however, things will be rather more locally focused ;)
@azmerai: Thanks for fleshing him out, more background is always good :)
@algar: Thanks for your understanding :)
@brimlii: Glad to hear you enjoyed the intro fluff, thanks for submitting a character :D
@gundar: including yourself we're up to 24 applicants! Thank you for taking the time to re-flavour your character for this campaign :)
@lilith: thanks for developing your character further :)
So, with around 36 hours to go before submissions close there are still only 2 divine applicants, both aasimar clerics of Saranrae... you have to ask yourself, 'have all the oracles and druids already been eaten!?'
Well, if it helps, the answers to the question, though the answers are all implied in the background.
She was at home in Tondmark castle, sleeping with her husband. The events of that day and night are detailed in the background.
Have you had to do anything you regret in order to make it this far?
She beyond regretting things, in a way, especially choices she made in her prior life. She feels a good portion of survivor's guilt coming up every now and then - she lost her husband and her five children within a single one hour. She was the only survivor at all on the castle and several guards died for her. But she is determined to go on and find the light again; it only overwhelms her from time to time.
Have you got family out there or just a strong desire to survive? What gets you through?
That's elemental to the background. She has lost her family. She is now looking for clues to find her twin brother and her sister-in-law, the two people she loves most in the world since her children are dead. What also helps her to survive is that for the first time she is free to do whatever she wants, be whoever she wants to be and live the dreams of her youth. She is in a way discovering herself anew and she likes what she finds.
Seeing the small amount of applicants for a divine position do you mind if I change my ranger to an inquisitor?
Re Oracles, Druids, Inquisitors &etc, I think in this particular world we're going to be really sorry if we don't have a very healing-focused Cleric (or possibly Oracle) on the team. While channelling is often considered a key Cleric power, I suspect that in this world it'll be huge, as will spontaneous heal spells. (The Healing hex being a possible exception, since it's another way to heal many without using many spells.)
That said (for what my opinion's worth) I think we have room for more Cleric submissions, and that it's a really interesting design space to play in.
I had a few ideas and would likely have submitted a cleric, except I got attached really fast to my image of playing one of the clerics who *has* lost his powers.
Sirina would be perfectly happy to have a somewhat angelic cleric of Sarenrae in a 'divine position'. ^^
With Lenneth and myself two witches applied who both have the healing hex. Lenneth also has cauldron and can consequently make potions of cure light wounds - I was planning that for level 3, since I overlooked that you can wind around the caster level requirement for Brew Potion that way.
I wouldn't underestimate the possible input of paladins, either. They probably can't do it alone, but several characters who can heal a bit while filling another role ain't bad either.
I was actually considering a nihilistic Oracle who preached the end of the world before the red harvest, but I was feeling a fighter.
I realize i am jumping on this late, but this sounds really interesting, to the point of trying to sneak in, last minute ^-^
Every time I think of survival and the undead, I think of the dog...
The loyal companion who manages to stay just out side of harms reach and is loyal to his master, but when his master bites the mortal coil, he is forced to retreat and "guard" him from a distance. when the party stumbles across him, half starved and emacicated, the dog does the unthinkable. He abandons his dead master and discreetly follows the party, thrus finding new masters and adventure.
How to go about this? If not a dog character itself, I was thinking of a druid and thrus would also fill the divine role as well :)
Let me see what I can come up with!
Forgot the questions:
Where were you and what were you doing on the night of Red Harvest?
On the road between the town or Wartle and Lake Syrantula. I was caravanning across the country side to Magnimar in the hopes of impressing a wealth armor and striking a business deal.
Have you had to do anything you regret in order to make it this far?
Leaving my good friends and close bodyguards to be torn apart a horde of zombies haunts Brimlii every night. Otherwise, he has made it a mission to avoid troublesome situations that would lead to doing things he would regret.
Have you got family out there or just a strong desire to survive? What gets you through?
Brimlii is unsure of whether or not his parents are still alive, they were lived in the thick of Janerhoff, and if the strange magic spread that far east, then their chances are slim. Brimlii looks at the sliver of chance as a beacon home, one day planning on returning to Janderhoff when he as the supplies and manpower enough to overrun the potential zombie infestation that would reside.
@lucas: as per my PM, but this goes for everyone - you are fine to change your character however you like up until the deadline, but only one entry per person!
@turrey: I'm surprised not to have seen a cleric of Pharasma or Bones oracle!
@gobo horde: you are most welcome here, the more the merrier! As long as you have an application submitted within the next 25 hours you're fine ;)
@brimlii: thanks for your answers :D
On the subject of choosing a roster, I have to say I'm in trouble. No matter how I pick I'm going to be leaving good characters behind, you have together provided me with a rich tapestry that I'm really grateful for. There's no game to be had without players to play, and I am humbled that this non-AP campaign has proven so popular.
Thank you to all of you for giving your time and attention.
No problem Fiendish.
I think it's the kind of game that a lot of us have been crying out for and dealing with the day to day struggle to survive is going to be a refreshing change from the grand, world-changing events PCs normally deal with.
I think there's a good crop of characters here so I don't envy you your decision!
Howdy!
I finally had the time to pull together all my disparate thoughts. Here is the story of Laefyncyflynn. I fully expect him to end up with a much shorter nickname. ; )
Laefyncyflynn Neirenar was born in 4599 A.R. in the town of Crying Leaf, in the Mierani Forest in northern Varisia . His father, Kaerishiel, commanded the town’s garrison, while his mother Yriel was a priestess of Desna.
As a child, Laefyncyflynn spent countless hours training with a longbow in imitation of his father, as well as spending time with his mother seeing to those elves wounded defending their homes against drow sorties from Celwynvian .
Along with his parents, the third major influence on the young Laefyncyflynn’s life was a close friend named Shalelu Andosana. Shalelu was the daughter of the town’s high priestess of Desna, Seanthia, who worked with Yriel in tending to the town’s spiritual needs. Twenty or so years his senior and without a father of her own, Shalelu took Laefyncyflynn under her wing when his parents were busy--his father out scouting or his mother tending the wounded, or replenishing the town’s supply of potions and scrolls. With Shalelu, Laefyncyflynn had his eyes opened to a new life--a life of travel, of living off the land, and of making one’s own way in the world . His love of the outdoors meant he eschewed the traditional elven study of magic as well .
In 4687 A.R., Crying Leaf was attacked by the green dragon Verchazmia. Terrified, Laefyncyflynn hid while his father and his warriors, alongside a band of human adventurers who had been tracking the dragon, battled to defend the town. Verchazmia was defeated and killed, but many elves and all the humans were slain save for one man named Jakardros Sovark, and he was grievously wounded. The town’s priestess of Desna, Seanthia, nursed Jakardros back to health, and eventually took him as her lover. But when Verchazmia was resurrected by cultists of Zura only three years later, she attacked Crying Leaf again, and before she was killed again she managed to kill Seanthia.
Heartbroken, Jakardros left. Shalelu, now with no family at all, left only a few years later.
Laefyncyflynn felt like he was alone, too. After a few years, the loneliness turned to anger and resentment.
With nothing else to fill his days, he turned to practising the bow. He spent hour after hour firing arrows into straw targets. When he felt particularly emotional, he travelled into the forest, alone, to carve images of Verchazmia into tree trunks, only to obliterate them with his arrows, using his anger to fuel his hours of practice. His skill with the bow improved, even if his mood did not .
Then, in 4708 A.R., Shalelu returned. At first, Laefyncyflynn was overjoyed, thinking he would finally be able to spend time with his oldest friend. But it was not to be--Shalelu took on leadership of the Celwynvian Watch, and after a week in conversation with the town’s leader Eviana, she left to patrol Celwynvian’s borders, and spent little to no time in Crying Leaf thereafter.
When adventurers arrived a few months later and sacked Celwynvian, with the help of Crying Leaf’s forces, Laefyncyflynn thought that Shalelu might finally return and stay in Crying Leaf for good. But instead, she left again, returning to the Lost Coast further south.
Laefyncyflynn retreated into himself even further at Shalelu’s apparent rejection. Thoroughly disillusioned, he came to expect his life to be a long string of disappointments, and resigned himself to a long existence of no import, with a lonely death at the end .
With Kaerishiel busy overseeing the reconstruction of Celwynvian, Laefyncyflynn spent more hours at the temple of Desna, with his mother, idly reading tomes on the various gods and their practices--which is how he found Naderi . For the last few years, Laefyncyflynn’s faith in Naderi has been the one constant in his life, and provided him with comfort where there is none else to be found.
Then, horrifyingly, came the night of the Red Harvest. In a particularly brutal twist for Crying Leaf, Verchazmia’s bones, long years in the ground, burst forth and laid waste to the town for a third time. Most of the townsfolk were slain in one night of brutal bloodshed. When the attack began, Laefyncyflynn went to grab his bow and arrows, thinking that perhaps this was an opportunity for his life to have meaning, but when he turned to fight, he froze in terror. He watched as people he knew were slaughtered or grievously wounded, and when he finally regained the courage to move, the battle was all but over. His mother was dead.
Shellshocked and devastated, the remaining elves tried to contact Kyonin, but their cries for help went unanswered. Instead, they resolved to reach Celwynvian, but when they arrived, they found it overrun with undead, and the aiudara at its heart no longer functional. With the element of surprise, they managed to destroy the undead and set up a temporary camp. To add insult to injury, some foul sorcery prevented most of the priests and druids from reaching their deities. Laefyncyflynn merely set his jaw. Even Naderi had failed him.
For Laefyncyflynn, the hardest part was discovering his father’s body. He had fought valiantly, over three dozen ghouls lay slain around him. His bow string had snapped, and it looked like he had used the bow as a club until he was overcome, the bow splintered in two. One arrow remained in his quiver.
Laefyncyflynn claimed the arrow, and then buried his father in the centre of what had briefly been a shining example of elven determination. Now, Celwynvian was little better than a tomb.
The following days brought small pieces of news. The scale of the devastation became clear as reports came in from all over Avistan. The story was the same--the dead walked, and where they went the living were extinguished.
After heated discussions, the elves eventually decided to try to make their way to the Mordant Spire, and perhaps take ship to Arcadia, where--it was hoped--the plague had not reached. Some disagreed, and struck out on their own.
For Laefyncyflynn, the choice was a simple one. He simply had to find Shalelu. Whether it was to save her or damn her, he wasn’t sure, but he knew that if he never tried, his spirit would never be able to rest. So he gathered a few meagre supplies, and struck out for the Lost Coast--and the town of Sandpoint.
STATBLOCK
Laefyncyflynn Neirenar
Male Elf Fighter (Archer) 1
N Medium humanoid (elf)
Init +3; Senses low-light vision; Perception +4
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Defense
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AC 14, touch 13, flat-footed 11 (+1 armor, +3 Dex)
hp 11 (1d10+1)
Fort +3 (+4 vs. fatigue, exhaustion, or ill effects from running, forced marches, starvation, thirst, or hot or cold environments), Ref +3, Will +2; +2 vs. enchantments
Immune sleep
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft.
Melee quarterstaff +2 (1d6+1)
Ranged shortbow +4 (1d6/×3)
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Statistics
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Str 12, Dex 16, Con 12, Int 12, Wis 14, Cha 8
Base Atk +1; CMB +2; CMD 15
Feats Deadly Aim, Point-Blank Shot
Traits caretaker, regional recluse: arsmeril or crying leaf
Skills Craft (bows) +5, Heal +7, Knowledge (religion) +2, Perception +4, Survival +7; Racial Modifiers +2 Perception
Languages Celestial, Common, Elven
SQ desert runner, weapon familiarity
Other Gear padded armor, arrows (40), arrows, quarterstaff, shortbow, artisan's tools, backpack, bedroll, belt pouch, sack, trail rations (3), trail rations, waterskin, waterskin, whetstone, 7 sp, 3 cp
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Special Abilities
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Deadly Aim -1/+2 Trade a penalty to ranged attacks for a bonus to ranged damage.
Desert Runner +4 Con checks and Fort vs. fatigue, exhaustion, running, forced marches, hot or cold environments.
Elven Immunities - Sleep You are immune to magic sleep effects.
Low-Light Vision See twice as far as a human in low light, distinguishing color and detail.
Point-Blank Shot +1 to attack and damage rolls with ranged weapons at up to 30 feet.
Regional Recluse: Arsmeril or Crying Leaf +1 trait bonus on Perception checks made at night.
Note: I realise the whetstone doesn't make much sense without a bladed weapon to use it on--I was hoping to have enough room in my 50gp for a Small dagger (to represent his faith in Naderi) but I ran out of room! I've left the whetstone as a reminder and may rejig his possessions later, if permitted.
PERSONALITY AND RELATIONSHIPS
Laefyncyflynn is a taciturn, withdrawn elf in search of purpose. Frustrated by not only his apparent inability to choose his own destiny, but also by what he views as the conspiracy of circumstance to keep him from happiness, he has taken to avoiding personal relationships as a protection against becoming disappointed yet again.
Yet, burning inside is still that desperate need to be wanted--to find someone he can call a friend.
Until he rediscovers that capacity for trust--and remembering that at 105 years old Laefyncyflynn is pretty much the equivalent of a human 17-year-old-- Laefyncyflynn will be quite prone to childish outbursts, selfishness, and generally being an unpleasant ‘teenager’. That should mellow and change as he learns the value of loyalty, strength in numbers, teamwork, and the gratification that comes from being a reliable part of a team.
CHARACTER GROWTH AND DEVELOPMENT
Laefyncyflynn should, over time, learn to trust people again. Whether Shalelu lives or not is irrelevant but is obviously an important milestone, if you like.
In mechanical terms he will continue to take levels in fighter unless something more interesting shows up for his character.
I definitely see his alignment changing as time goes by. In what direction? Not sure, that will depend on the adventures he has and how they shape his worldview.
RECENT ADVENTURES
Very little fazes Laefyncyflynn, so jaded is he. On his way south from the Mierani Forest, he was accosted by bandit groups more than once. He slew them to a man and left their bodies for the crows. When he found one of them was a human of little more than twelve years, he barely batted an eyelid.
The tables were turned when he was surprised by a ghast when he was bathing. Only the creature’s stench gave him time to quickly gather his closest possessions and flee, but he had to leave his armour behind. Now, in place of his lost studded leather armour, he wears every item of clothing he owns, all at once .
He hopes to find something to replace his lost armour in Sandpoint, as well as--preferably--some new clothes.
I'm in Australia so my weekday is a bit different to everyone else's, but that hasn't proved a problem in the past. : )
I would like to submit Lucious Newborne for consideration. He is a human rogue survivalist archetype. His background and such is in the linked profile. He was raised in the wilds and was taught how to survive and do whatever he can to achieve that. Any questions or input would be appreciated.
One question is that Lucious has craft(bow) do I need to roll in order to be able to "buy" my short bow and arrows at 1/2 the price since he could technically make them? Thank you for consideration.
edit: Did not answer all the questions like I thought I did in my story.
Where were you and what were you doing on the night of Red Harvest?
At home waiting for his father to come home, but when he did come home he was already biten, then Lucious and his mother fled into the night.
Have you had to do anything you regret in order to make it this far?
Not burying his parents, and not helping several survivors out of fear for his own life.
Have you got family out there or just a strong desire to survive? What gets you through?
Both parents were killed by zombies, however he wants regret on those who used his mother and the controllers of the zombies. Also his will to survive is also based on his father's wishes, since he could not uphold his dying wish of protecting his mother, he will live on to honor is father and their family name/legacy.
I have changed class to an inquisitor, and so have some of the answers to my questions.
Where were you and what were you doing on the night of Red Harvest?
Outside of my village looking for something to hunt.
Have you had to do anything you regret in order to make it this far?
I have broken so many of Desna's tenants that I cannot remember them all.
Have you got family out there or just a strong desire to survive? What gets you through?
All my family is dead. Mostly by my own hand, but I will have revenge on the necromancer who controlled me, and when i find him I will pay him back a hundredfold for his crimes.