Very glad to hear submissions are still open, as I'm looking forward to putting together a character.
After the lack of comment on my proposed character concept, I'll just run with it, however, in reading the fine print, two questions came up,
One, does roll20 work on phones? I made an account, but I don't have any games to test it on.
Two, where can I find info on these Unchained endurance rules? I haven't heard of unchained before, so I don't know where to start looking, and don't have much time to wander around aimlessly searching for it.
After the lack of comment on my proposed character concept, I'll just run with it, however, in reading the fine print, two questions came up,
One, does roll20 work on phones? I made an account, but I don't have any games to test it on.
Two, where can I find info on these Unchained endurance rules? I haven't heard of unchained before, so I don't know where to start looking, and don't have much time to wander around aimlessly searching for it.
1) In my experience, you'll want to avoid phones on roll20. I'm not actually sure if it'll work, but unless you've got a MASSIVE screen, you're not going to want to deal with it if you can avoid it.
He actually didn't mention the Stamina Rules.
--Endurance now works as it does in Unchained, under the Wound Threshold entry.
So it sounds like he's actually talking about the changes to the Endurance feat listed here, about halfway down the page.
Correct. I am not using stamina rules, as I haven't read through them in their entirety. I don't use variant rules, classes, etc. unless I know exactly how they work.
Thanks for the link and clarification.
---
Anybody want to link backgrounds with a lost and lonely familiar?
Aemon's more of a thing person than an animal person. So unless you're a stuffed raven or something . . . :/
So . . . anybody interested in some pre-campaign roleplay to pass the time? Maybe a friendly chat in a tavern?
I'll jump-in, if you want to get the ball rolling.
I'm game. I'll introduce it in a few hours, once folks have had a chance to chime in? If someone else would rather lead it off, feel free. :)
I was thinking to kick things off either in Cayden's Hall or the Saucy Wench. Sound ok?
Either will work for the purposes of role-play.
Sounds perfect - I'd been thinking Cayden's Hall myself. A little closer to the crowd surrounding this "Last Disciple".
Spirits are high in Cayden's Hall tonight. Aemon has already had to shift tables twice due to impromptu wrestling matches, and he hasn't even finished his first cup of wine. As he settles back in his seat again, he hears a man's low voice at the next table.
" . . . got it from a dwarf down Varisia way, said he took it off some bandits that attacked him. See those marks? He didn't say anything, but I think that's Tian, and I'll bet you my best boots that there's treasure to be had there."
A woman chuckles in reply.
"If you believe that, I've got a bridge in Irrisen to sell you. Even if it is Tian, what makes you think it means treasure?"
"Why else would a map of Varisia have Tian scribbles on it?"
Aemon looks into his cup and sighs. The Hall is always a bittersweet place to drink, especially when he hears hopefuls like that. Still, the wine is good, and it was a good place to find company. He sits back and scans the crowd for someone to talk to.
A tall, lean woman in a scanty cloth-of-gold gown makes her way gracefully through the raucous crowd. "Metheglin - Pleasure Salon. I have to make sure you're making good use of Calistria's gifts, after all." She flashes a sultry smile at the barkeeper as he reaches for the bottle of golden honey liquor, pours a glass, and hands it to her. As she reaches for the glass, she bends just a shade farther than the width of the bar requires, and it's clear the barkeeper notices how her dress responds to the casual movements.
Smirking, she straightens and surveys the scene. Mostly the customary louts, it appears. The one in the back, though...he looks worthy of my time. She walks back toward Aemon's table, stopping a few times to let wrestling revelers stumble and tumble past.
"Good evening to you, traveler. I don't believe I've seen you here before - and I certainly think I'd remember. You have an air of dignity about you; it certainly sets you above most of the churls here." She casually reaches for Aemon's shoulder, as if to support herself as she sits in the chair next to him, but the gesture seems somehow less coincidental than that. "What brings you here?"
A small cat with a roughly sewn miniture pack walks under the table with the two men, listening for a moment before walking past Aemon's chair and hopping up onto the next table where some magely sort was sitting.
"How is it you always know where I'm drinking?" The cat gives him a look, "Right, sorry. You really need to learn this one yourself, you know." the mage casts a quick spell on the cat.
"Thank you, and I will learn it, eventually. It isn't the simplest spell you know. That bard you sent me with. I can see why you called him annoying, but he certainly knows his spellcraft. He helped me figure out how to use my own voice for spellcasting. I told you the language the mage uses doesn't matter."
"Since when can cats be considered to have a language?" the cat glared at him.
"Cats make noise to communicate. That is by some definitions a language, and unlike dogs, cats can make well over a hundred distinct sounds, more than enough to form basic spellcasting vocalizations. Just required a bit of research and an open mind."
"Animals can't cast spells though" the mage replied with an irritated look.
"Most animals aren't smart enough. Think about it, many races cast spells in their own language, and some can cast without words at all, which means the language itself isn't important, it is the establishment of proper patterns of mana. Words are just a tool to do that, so with William's help, I created the proper vocal patterns in the sounds of my kind. I still need to develop some of the more advanced patterns, but I have sufficient patterns for the basics."
This is Korihor. She is fully statted, but not fully house-ruled to your requirements yet, Jon, The Evil DM. If she gets selected, I'll make her fully accountable, but I've changed her stats around for too many pbp's that I wasn't selected for, so...yeah.
If you like her story, let me know.
Korihor is a hard woman to love. She's brilliant, and believes she is on a mission to civilize the world, one person at a time. She believes that society is doomed because of the way people treat each other, and the way the species treat each other. She believes that there is a problem with the rich crushing the poor, even though she doesn't believe that there is something inherently wrong with being rich.
She distrusts magic, feeling it is only abused, and dislikes religion, feeling it is a big con. The conundrum of her life lies in the fact that she seems to seep magic from every pore. She would prefer to just read a book, cook an extravagant meal, enjoy an expensive scotch and cigar, and live out her life in a warm place overlooking the sea.
Calculating and thoughtful in her planning, she often doesn't think about what she is going to say before she says it in conversation. She believes in the best of mankind, but also believes that most people are idiots; sheep, with no willpower to make an informed choice for themselves, bent on treating each other poorly simply for a lack of understanding, or because they want a cookie.
She was born to the north of Corentyn in Cheliax, in the small village of Little Mingin, a dirty fishing village on the Arcadian Ocean. Her family sent her away to school in West Crown because "weird things always happened around her", the final straw being when she gave the mayor's daughter's a purple beard.
At fifteen her tattoo appeared, growing steadily down her back. She was afraid it was a disease, or infection of some sort. Her fears, it seems to her, were confirmed. She is infected with magical energy. It took the form of a slowly growing upside down tree, made of of thousands of tiny arcane symbols, one by one appearing on her skin, bleeding down her back, slowly over the years. Every time something strange happened around her, the tattoo grew a little more.
At the age of 21, she awoke in an inn she was staying at in the city of Manaket in Rahadoum, while working as a freelance researcher for Venture Captain Obo...or what remained of the inn. Her bed alone stood unharmed, on an untouched rise in a crater where the 'Three Barmaids' once stood. She believes she destroyed it with her magic. That was when her Mark changed from a tiny shoot to a tiny sapling on her back.
She wants nothing more than to control this magic, so it can't hurt anyone else. She can't let this thing inside her destroy everything around her.
Fleeing, she jumped a ship heading up the Uta river, up over the pass and down into the Sodden Lands. Over the next year, driven by fear of hurting anyone, she made her way to The Shackles, where the amount of alcohol they served seemed to match her thirst well. Fleeing a misunderstanding and a debt, she boarded a ship bound for Absalom.
Korihor -
She is a human, and rumor had it her grandmother was a tiefling, being from Cheliax, but she honestly considers herself human (no matter what those kids said). She cannot stand racism, and will quickly loose her cool if she see's it in practice.
She is not a hero, and has done nothing she considers special.
Korihor's grey eyes are soft and warm, and stark against her bronze skin. Her Black dreadlocks grace her shoulders. She has a noble posture, almost challenging. A tattoo of an upside-down tree runs down her neck, spreading across her shoulders. It's actually not one tattoo, but hundreds of tiny magical sigils, forming the image of a tree. It is red when a sigil forms, deepens to black, and then fades to white. When she casts spells, it may turn colors, or have other varying effects
Aside from that, she is really wanting to learn how to cook rice the way they did in Manaket. It was like little pillows of air. That, and the perfect scotch. She hears rumors that there is a scotch from the Worldwound that has stopped the battle there, simply so demons and Paladins could share it.
is an example of some of my role-playing in a short-lived pbp I did with her a few years ago. is an example of how I write (all character's were written by me in this example).
A little about my style, to see if it's what you are looking for, Jon.
- I do not use flowery, long-winded speech that makes me sound like a Shakespearean rip-off.
- The other characters will not hear my characters thoughts. I do not post a response to a post 25 posts ago because I missed the time-frame and the conversation on the board moved on. If I don't respond, and the DM doesn't "bot" my response, my character is silent.
- I do not play an alignment, I tend to play a moral set and to the situation.
- As a player I tend to espouse secrets (the DM will know them, the players will not.) I like having conflicting agendas. (The party needs to steal a sword for who hired them, but my character needs to give it to the criminal element to get a favor to get information about her missing mother, or something). I look for those moments, let the DM know my intentions and get permission/guidance, and then go for them. Other groups I've been in say it makes them feel like the world really is being lived in.
Seen a number of very nice characters here, good stuff. Friendly reminder to everyone that open recruitment is closing in about 24 hours, at 11:59 PM EST. After that, I'll be asking people if they're still intending to submit characters, and will wait approximately 24 hours for them to post in, as well as for any needed corrections to be made. Then, finally, we will get our list of characters.
Good luck, everyone!
-Jon
Thanks, Jon. Any more information you need on my end?
"Why else would a map of Varisia have Tian scribbles in it?"
Korihor looks out over her glass of cheap whiskey at Aemon, seated across from her, as he sighs deeply.
Speaking low she mockingly mutters, "And if you could actually read Tian, let alone recognize it, you'd realize that those scribbles say 'Here be monsters! You be food!'" She chuckles at her joke, but stops at a glare from Aemon.
"Good evening to you, traveler." Looking up, Korihor sweeps her eyes over the lean elf who had just approached the table. "I don't believe I've seen you here before - and I certainly think I'd remember. You have an air of dignity about you; it certainly sets you above most of the churls here."
The mage's attention drifted as he saw the woman sit at the next table. The cat looks at him with annoyance. The mage picks up the cats and sits next to the girl, "What brings such a lovely lady to such a place as this?" the cat struggles out of his arms onto the table. "Yes, do tell. It is probably far more interesting than a lustful mage who is rather easily distracted. I may be a cat, but sometimes I think he is the animal."
The mage looks slightly offended and at a loss for a good response.
Edit, ninjad, with a ninja edit too.
Korihor looks at the mage and the cat with a withering glance.
"Churl?" Korihor says, turning back towards Aemon. "Hmm..." she takes a sip of her drink. "I like that. Churl." She rolls the word around her tongue, looking at the remaining whiskey in the bottom of her glass. "Churrl. Churll. Chuurl."
"I apologize about him. He is rather rude. Makes up for his unfair share of skill in magic. I am Zizi by the way."
"No one is skilled in magic." Korihor growls, throwing back the rest of her drink. "And those that presume they are find themselves dead, along with everyone around them."
"I must say, I'm curious what you consider 'skilled' with magic. Of course, I've seen magic save more lives than end them, but then again, I'm unique."
The mage shrugs off Zizi and turns his attention back to the pretty woman. "I can show you some really neat tricks. Have you ever jumped from a tower and floated gently to the ground?"
"You can no more be skilled at magic than you can at swallowing the Sea, or moving the stars." She looks down at her empty glass, and mumbles into it. "Magic does not care if you are skilled, or learned, or great, or small. Or someones daughter. You don't need magic to jump from a tower. Magic simply...consumes." She lets her glass thunk onto the table.
Zizi responds gently "Magic is like fire, it can be used for good or ill. Those who are skilled, are those who get what they want from it without other consequences, just like a blacksmith uses fire without burning down the village. Sounds to me like you've met too many fools who didn't care to try avoiding hurting other people. Not every mage is like that."
Kierana laughs, a high, clear sound. "A curious beast, but it seems to have its wits about it. I hail from the Pleasure Salon of Calistria, but I come here every so often to deliver the honey from our wasp hive - it's the finest in Golarion, and the brewers appreciate the quality of the liquor it produces. Of course, I have to check on that quality myself from time to time as well, and the preponderance of potential customers of the Salon never hurts, either." She smiles and takes another sip from her goblet. "I am curious, though, Master Cat. You're certainly a much more unusual sight in these parts than I; what story brings you here?"
"Every person is like that. And then you give them fire, and they all swear they can swallow the moons, while the world burns around them."
She blinks at Zizi and Kierana, then at the mage and Aemon, and finally down at the empty glass in front of her. "I may have had three too many of these..."
Aemon shifts his drink away from the cat before turning to smile at the pretty half-elf next to him.
"Old men tend to appear dignified to the young, but I thank you. I see you have good taste," he says, nodding at her glass of mead.
"A little strong for me, these days, but a fine drink. I am Aemon, and my companion," he says, gesturing to the bronze-skinned woman beside him, "Is Korihor. I'm afraid she is rather more into her cups than I tonight."
He glances again at the cat, then at its apparent owner.
"I believe I must agree with the cat--it seems to have more manners than you, friend. Especially seeing as only one of you has bothered to introduce yourself."
He takes a sip from his cup and raises his eyebrows expectantly.
The cat looks at Aemon "Don't worry about him. He has a good heart behind that rude exterior. He has helped me significantly in my search for my master. Sneaks me cream in the library sometimes even."
Korihor looks at Zizi. "Aroden's ghost. Your a cat." She gestures her hand across the table to Aemon, and whispers. "Aemon. There's a cat talking to me. It's happening again."
Aemon pats Korihor's arm reassuringly.
"Not to worry, friend. It's talking to all of us."
The mage looks embarrassed, "Ah yes, I'm Edgar Wilbur, the libr- I work at the mage's guild. Zizi here once belonged to a mage in Thatchwood. Got raided recently by orcs and goblins who used some strange spell on him and now Zizi remains despite his seeming death." Edgar seems to enjoy getting back at Zizi as she seems to glare icely at him for talking about it.
"Of course it's talking to all of us. That was some oily rye whiskey, but...naturally...a cat. And apparently he's dead." She looks at Kierana. "I think I should be sick."
"Alcohol is merely another way to intensify the pleasures of life - no need to apologize for enjoyment," Kierana replies to Aemon, though with a bit of self-satisfied amusement at Korihor's intoxication. "I must confess, though, I'm curious as to what happened the first time a cat was talking to her."
She smiles at everyone gathered around the table. "So what brings everyone to the City at the Center of the World? My work in the Pleasure Salon brings me into contact with all sorts, but I confess, I love to hear all the stories I can."
"You lost your master? That's terrible."
Aemon gives the cat a grave seated bow.
"My condolences."
He raises his cup, then hesitates.
"Unless, of course, your master was a b*stard. In which case, congratulations on your freedom and good fortune."
He nods, satisfied, and drinks.
"No, madam, his former master died, not him..." Kierana slides back subtly, as if nervous about Korihor being sick too close to her gown.
Korihor nods her head towards Edgar with drunken subtlety, and whispers too-loudly. "That's what the randy old man said." She grabs Keirana's hand under the table and squeezes, as she squeamishly swallows the horde of orcs attempting to storm up her throat. She looks Keirana in the eyes. "Madam? Wait...I don't know you..."
Zizi looks to Aemon, "Thank you Aemon. Though he was a good man. I think he was soul trapped, which is why I want to find the group that did it, in hopes of freeing him, or at least learning what they did if I'm wrong about the spell."
Looking to the woman, "I'm a her, it was my master Corlon the Wise who was a him. I am also curious about this other talking cat she has seen."
"Is she going to be alright?" asked Edgar.
"Just making an evening visit to Cayden's Hall, to sample their metheglin and see some new faces." Kierana pats Korihor's hand reassuringly. "What brings you here?"
"Fear."
With a small thud, Korihor's forehead hits the table. She snores softly, her hand still tightly grasping Keirana's.
"Of course, Lady Zizi. My apologies." Kierana gives a short nod in Zizi's direction.
Kierana extricates her hand from Korihor's grip and pats her shoulder. "Master Aemon, do you know where she is staying? Do you travel together?" She pauses for a moment. "She said fear brought her; do you know what's happened to her?"
Aemon winces at Korihor's display.
"I don't recall where she said she was staying tonight, but I can take her to my flat. I'm actually not a traveler--not anymore. Absalom is my home. I just haven't visited the Ascendant Court for some time. As to what happened to her . . ."
He shrugs.
"I know about as much about her as she knows about me: we both have secrets, and we both have reason to drink. I think her wounds are a bit more fresh than mine, though."
He shakes his head.
"But I didn't come tonight to talk about wounds. This is Cayden's Hall! I came to enjoy myself, and perhaps put some ghosts to rest."
He drains his cup of wine, then waves to a passing serving girl while digging into his purse.
"Lass! A fresh round for our table, please! And a saucer of milk for the cat."
"I keep quarters in the Pleasure Salon - if it's closer, I can have her taken there. She'll be well taken care of. Regardless, I'll go and see if I can hail a cart to take her, unless you have one here already?"
She turns to walk from the table, then turns back. "Alcohol won't make the ghosts go away. Facing down their creators and triumphing - ah, that will." For a moment, a spasm of a crueler expression crosses her face, but she quickly shakes it off and goes to find a coach.
Zizi looks pleased "Thank you Aemon."
Edgar, sensing he isn't getting the pretty woman, "Zizi, I'll return to the library. I'll leave the map on the table for you. Don't scare the apprentices. Sybal will have a fit, and she is some important person's daughter. Don't need the trouble we get if you go upsetting her." With that, Edgar gets up and leaves.
"I'll try not to be too bad." Zizi replied, then looking to the others, "If I suddenly stop talking, it just means the speaking spell wore off. I haven't yet been able to cast it myself, and getting an item made is beyond my ability to buy at the moment."
Aemon watches Kierana go, his brow furrowed.
"I'm not always the best with people," He says to Edgar and Zizi, not taking his eyes off the pretty woman, "But I don't think that last part was actually about me."
He waves absently as Edgar excuses himself, then finally looks at Zizi.
"So. Just you and me, now. An old man and a talking cat." He grins.
"Whatever else may happen tonight, at least it has been unique."