Its Nani
Will get you all of my info on Sunday, sorry for the wait things have been crazy around here. Thanks for understanding.
is not problem; keep in mind all that I rarely get online on friday and sat; fyi.
and
rolls for location (1d6=3, 1d6=3)
I'd like to be originally from the "Japanese" island chain (I'm sure you mentioned one).
yes; they are called the Isles of Blest.
ok; background info:your parents were married legally and spiritually, feel free to make up their names if you desire. You are from a lower upperclass household where are your father was the chief adminstrator of 5 villages; I can give you their names later if you wish and the province, but do not have that with me here at work. Can also tell you which island. I do not really have all the clans established as no one has every played there so you can fill in names as you like for that stuff and I will use it; all good to me. You have no surviving aunts or uncles; they were all killed before you can into your inheritance. Your father and you have never seen eye to eye on many issues and are currently not on speaking terms; to you he is to proud and stubborn and to him your adventuresome heart and desire to take personal hand in things rather than administer from afar though intermedieries demeans you as a "worker" in his eyes and beneath his lineage. Your mother loved you very much, but due to her role in society; she could only moderate with a few choice words of kindess. she was always and beautiful example of the placid yet strong heart of the japanese noble woman.
The isles have been beset by wave after wave of devil fish from the sea along with monsterous sea creatures and the like; The Shogun is to proud to call for foreign aide and over the last few years nearly all civilization on the islands has been destroyed; bands of murderers and banditry is rapid; thousands are missing and most presumed eaten; yet the attacks continue; surely all life on the islands will end if something is not done; you mother told you that in secret; most secret; that your father had dispatched to trading allies in (what would be china in my game) for news of aide or to perhaps hire mercenaries; but found out that things there were even worse; so your mother has bid you privately to aid your fathers wishes and travel outside the island chain and find allies to stop this menace while there is still something beautiful in the world to save.
She has given you a few things to aid you and says these are from your ancestors, but says it in such an inigimatic way that you cannot question, but know that these gifts are because of her and have cost her much face.
1) a magical bowl that will produce enough rice and vegatables to feed three hungry mouths three times a day. The food prayer of Kami must be recited to activate the bowl; one day a week it will also produce fish, pork, or beef.
2) she gives you a blessed cloth of your ancestors; this cloth has been in you family for many many centuries and has your family crest and lineage; it is said that many great warriors, poets, and statesmen have worn it. you may once a day invoke its power; if you wrap it around your head; it will bring inspiration; around your weapon, guidance in battle; she says to invoke it; call upon your ancestors by name; ie the warriors if you use it for war; in game terms this will give you a +1 divine bonus to a skill, characteristic, or combat and possibly other things if you offer your anscestors proper tithes; your mother says that it has been said that sometimes ancestors appear to guide and even it has been said that swords have been known to shine with the fire of the sun; be wise and use this power to bring us no shame.
3) she gives you a small sake jug that makes poor sake; but a lot each day; that you might always seek finer things. she says this with some humor as she knows you are used to drinking much better and this low grade stuff is good if you have nothing; but not good if you have much.
4) she gives you a scroll tube with a scroll written in language you cannot read, she says she cannot either, but a powerful spirit told her that many answers are held within; she thought you should have it.
cool; no problem; just put it up when your ready; Pharoah (a demigod) and much of the Egyptian army as well as 3 Egyptian dieties are at the Well of Life so this is a easy thread to blend; you would know that the Dwarf in the Ice Pyramid here in the jungle near the well was for may years a devote follower of the Egyptian pantheon and priest of Seker and is the only dwarf to dress in Egyptian style and mannerisms. With the thousands of dwarves about you will probably want to talk to him as he isnt a barbarian, but can probably give you some idea of things in this part of the world. It is said that before Seker was killed in battle against foreign gods; he set this one and only dwarf to follow another diety. Both a dwarf priest and one sent to follow a outsider diety is unheard of; ponderous events.
Valegrim, Rama is from land we know as Egypt, from the city of Hamunaptra to be exact. Consistent with his devotion to his deity, he wields a flail rather than a longsword.
The background and rest of the profile is not yet finished. This is just to let you know I'm working on my PC.
Are you thinking to play a halfling; dont remember any tricksters right off; those are mostly gnomes. Do you have access to the old dieties and demigods or the Old Unearth Arcana; the old unearth has the racial dieties I use and among them are the halfling dieties. They dont come up much in play lately so I dont remember their names right off.
Is there a halfling god in this world that is similar to Loki, fun and frolics, without the nasty edge. A bit like Olidammara perhaps?
Race Halfling
Culture TBA - Somewhere not about to be destroyed
Class Favoured Soul
God TBA
Level 5
Percentages 91%, 61%, 04%, 93%, 99%, 45%
D6 6, 3, 4, 2, 4, 2Over to you, Valegrim.
Cheers
Your parents are legally married; you are the first son and eldest child; you have one sister (who follows Isis) You have an average relationship with your parents; neither hot not cold; you got along the best with your grandfather and spent much time growing up in his company; you got along least with your Aunt on your mothers side; she seemed to always go out of her way to make your live misable and see that you were punished especially if unjustly so. Your from a Wealthy Middle Upperclass family; you have never had the lack of anything; best food; trainers; teachers; servants and your father is the cities adminstrator and you mother one of the chief judges.
here is among your nameday and war gifts from your family
you dad: a necklace of waterbreathing
you mom: a chime of awakening
Your grandfather takes you on along walk to a small shrine you have been to many times growing up; It is a out of the way shrine to Osiris; there he prays and gives offering; though Osiris has been killed; for some reason the offering is accepted and you are both blessed and a golden key appears; your grandfather kissed you and is overjoyed; he shows you were to put the key and it open a small vault in the shrine; therin you find a holy weapon of Osiris; (choose your weapon type) it is +3 vs undead proc on crit 2d6 holy damage; +2 vs reptiles, proc on crit Bane spell; +1 vs any evil; no magical bonus against good or neutral creatures; though the masterwork bonus still applies.
Your Aunts and Uncles collectively get you a position in the Pharoah expeditionary relief force, and a slave and gear such as a tent and whatnot; the slave can cook and porter and is about 45 years old and is trusted and content. You have a bonus of 500 gold peices.
you are currently attached to the pharoah's calvary; think chariots here; you have a driver and shieldman. Chariots are not that effective in the jungle; so the Egyptians are waiting for the Dwarves to build a road through the swamp; much of the Egytain non elites are clearing space while they build the road; until then the calvary has little to do and all of the chariots sit in rows; about 5k of them; on the beach.
Percentile 83, 01, 28, 50, 47, 68, 02, 95, 98, 59
D6 6, 4, 5, 2, 6, 1
ok; think I am up to date; if I left out anyone please repost. Please update your character sheets from the info I have given then we can begin with whoever is ready.
and I thank the three of my player that have stopped by the thread to say hi to everyone; as they are near epic players in my game and frequently go to the Well of Life; it is a common meeting area of the good guys at this time and very secure, and heck; Baelenor lives there in his ice pyramid, you are likely to meet any one of them. Keep in mind some are good guys and some are bad guys, but they have a common goal of defeating the ophidians; superghouls, and the demon incursion. They also have radically differing opinions on what is going on in the world and why, but if you meet them they are a good resource you may wish to use; as players they can also tell you a bit about my style in terms players might be more apt to understand and can answer game stuff and many questions when I am not online checking the boards.
As people may guess I am one of the, "cough, cough" good guys. So if anyone has any questions feel free to ask. I have a wealth of information. I am also a decent advisor/councilor to those who may consider themselves "morally challenged". So if anyone is going to play a "morally challenged character" ask Val for my email, and just message me.
ok; background info:...
Ah... I wish I had known that you were generating a background for me. I usually prefer to do that myself. I had one, but the public background I posted didn't make that clear. Oh well... I guess I'll make it work.
I'm not used to such a hands-on DM. This might take some getting used to.
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Your grandfather takes you on along walk to a small shrine you have been to many times growing up; It is a out of the way shrine to Osiris; there he prays and gives offering; though Osiris has been killed; for some reason the offering is accepted and you are both blessed and a golden key appears; your grandfather kissed you and is overjoyed; he shows you were to put the key and it open a small vault in the shrine; therin you find a holy weapon of Osiris; (choose your weapon type) it is +3 vs undead proc on crit 2d6 holy damage; +2 vs reptiles, proc on crit Bane spell; +1 vs any evil; no magical bonus against good or neutral creatures; though the masterwork bonus still applies.
The stats for the weapon harkens to 1st edition and Classic D&D. I like, yes. :D
Weapon of choice, flail, Osiris' favored weapon.
Finished up rolling up my character, sorry I am a little late. I will fill out my profile tomorrow.
Originally I was thinking of being a deserter from the huge elven army but I am interested what these will bring.
Here are my percentages and d6's
3,99,71,1,82,80
5,3,1,2,1,1
ok; background info:...
Ah... I wish I had known that you were generating a background for me. I usually prefer to do that myself. I had one, but the public background I posted didn't make that clear. Oh well... I guess I'll make it work.
I'm not used to such a hands-on DM. This might take some getting used to.
if you want to change some background that is fine; I just use the birth stuff from the books I have and do my own thing based on rolls and charisma for gear; this would have been the same at 1st level as 5th; how well you get along with family members is roll based with charisma as you cannot control these things and you might have relatives of opposite alignments of yourself; Family status is also a roll. Story can be changed or modified as needed and you can pick your own story path for growing up; the situation as I described would be when your character was 14 years old so you have pleanty of years before and after for story changes; so for example; you would have this stuff since you were 14 so you could have or not have it at this time as you desire. For example, at this time your village may be wiped out and your family dead; or they may have moved or anything else; this isnt set in stone; just how things were on your name day.
hehe there are no deserters from the elven army; after all they are good guys meaning very harmonious; but there are "deserters" ie spies sent by the elves to investigate every other race, city, group ect. The elves have a several thousand year old information network and keep tabs on everyone; after all, they consider humans to be their races backward grandchildren once removed and try to advise and help them along. Elfs are kind of like anthropologist sociologists hehe. I suppose that would happen to all of us if we lived a few thousand years.
Originally I was thinking of being a deserter from the huge elven army but I am interested what these will bring.
Here are my percentages and d6's3,99,71,1,82,80
5,3,1,2,1,1
Well; your d6 rolls say your from the Oriental area of China; the very northern part; which is cool as there is/was a elven conclave there and a vast forest; hehe east of there is an immense fresh water unnatural lake that is said to be the fault of some dwarf, but a halfling druid came and fixed it, but that is another story. Farther West is the Mongols and the high steppe; the area you rolled in right in the middle; south in every direction is China; an area vast and populous. As an elf you dont have to be part of any culture; but as stated above; elfs get jobs and do stuff to collect notes on groups and cultures.
your parents were married; you are third and have two other older siblings; your father despises and loaths you; your mother loves you and so your aunts, uncles, grandparents are benovolent; these will probably change some by charisma; it could be for example that your father and you have diametrically opposed tasks/jobs/dieties and or alignments out of step.
oh; in my world; all evil elfs are drow (dark elves). Elves coloring change with their alignments to a certain extent; this has to do with their harmony with nature and the world and the lure of Lolth and how she seduces elves to evil. If your going to play a drow; things will change a bit but not a whole lot; one thing to know is that Lolth currently cannot manifest an avatar as she has been killed and it will take her still some years to remanifest. There are lots of elf threads both dark and light; and elfs have been forbidden to kill drow on sight by Emperor Sebastion; there is a drow emmissary party with Sebastion discussing --something hehe. Most elves are pretty bent about this but the one sided cease fire is holding; at the moment.
The Legend of Mitsuryuu (part 2)
I was in the village of Shensuto, plying my trade as a storyteller when who should walk past, but the ronin warrior of quiet demeanor and grim mien that had saved the daughter of the owner of the Teahouse of the Dancing Salamander. He was walking as if injured, and as I watched him, (for what is a storyteller who does not see such characters and closely observe them), he left a small bit of blood from what looked like a sword-cut on his thigh.
I immediately concluded my tale, much to the consternation of my listeners, gathered up the meager offerings I had garnered for a day’s work, and followed him, for I hoped that his story would give me something new and wonderful to share with the world, and, in truth, I was a little ashamed that the last time I saw him, I had done nothing to either help the girl, or the help the ronin (not that he much needed the help of the likes of myself.)
We walked for some small time until, at last, he strode into a tattoo shop. I, having no fear (some would say no native intelligence,) followed him inside.
He sat down in front of the artist, an ancient, withered old man with more the look of a failed monk than of a legitimate businessman, rolled up the sleeve covering his sword arm, and exposed a most curious tattoo.
It was a chain of dragons, in number, four, starting at his wrist and climbing upward, each dragon biting the tail of the one above it. All were masterfully done, but each was of a distinctly different style – obviously done by completely different artists. The tattoo was beautiful and terrible, and I sensed that the story it told was one I needed.
The ronin warrior of quiet demeanor and grim mien said to the artist, “I need a dragon added to this chain. I have been told that you are the best tattoo artist in the region – a master. I would be honored to carry your dragon on my arm.”
As the artist examined the tattoo, making small noises of consideration, I stepped forward – only a single step, mind you; and with an oddly fluid twist, the ronin warrior drew his katana, with his left hand, and without looking at me, and leveled it at my chest. It is a credit to the professionalism of that tattoo artist that he never even looked up, just began sketching the dragon that he would add to the chain.
“You followed me for some time,” the ronin warrior of quiet demeanor and grim mien said, “Tell me what you want.”
“Ah! Great warrior,” I began, but seeing his flash of disapproval at my tone, I finished with, “I saw you fight bandits once, a year ago. To see you again can be no mere coincidence, and I feel that perhaps the Kami have decided that I should tell some small part of your tale.”
The ronin warrior of quiet demeanor and grim mien sheathed his sword, and seemed to ignore me. He was silent for such a long time that I though perhaps he was ignoring me, but as I turned to leave, he said, “I remember you. Perhaps what you say is so.”
And so, to the gentle tapping of mallet to needle, he told me this tale.
“I was not always a ronin,” he began, slowly, as if he had not much spoken in quite a while, “Once, I was the heir of one of the minor clans. My father was, in addition to being a Lord and having loyal samurai retainers, administrator of five villages, and sworn to the Shogun, himself.
I was not a good son. I was willful and uninterested in becoming a paper samurai, as I saw him, who spent more time with a brush in his hand than a sword. I spent my time away from home, much to his embarrassment, drinking and adventuring.
Things were not good in our small, coastal fief. We were often beset by devilfish, and there was little my father could do to stop them. People were dying, and the Shogun had no men to spare. Things were just as bad everywhere else, it seemed. My father tried to bring in allies from the mainland, or even to hire mercenaries, but he couldn’t find any. When I say everywhere, even the mainland was beset by evil.
My mother took me aside and asked me to go to the mainland and seek allies that were beyond my father’s reach. She said it would help the fief, which would please my father and bring honor to my family, and at the same time, it would allow me the freedom I craved and fought so hard to attain. She gave me a small amount of money, some items of great clan value, and begged me to go.
I was gone two years. I found that things were worse on the continent than we had been led to believe. I fought monsters. I made friends. But there was no aid to be had. After those two years, I felt a great need to go home. I arrived in time to witness horror.”
He paused, staring at, but not really seeing, the dragon forming on his arm, and I could only imagine what scene was playing out behind his eyes. For long minutes there was only the “tap, tap, tap” of the tattoo mallet. Finally, he took up the thread of his story.
“All was quiet, as I rode into the fief. Too quiet. There were no peasants working the fields, and no bushi patrolling the road. Something was wrong, but I didn’t know just how wrong. I kicked my horse to a gallop and sped home. What I saw there… it is difficult for even a samurai to stomach some things.
It seems that my father had found aid, but he didn’t understand the cost until it was too late and he no longer cared. A great Oni demon from the mainland had offered to help my father make his fief safe from the devilfish, as well as any other threat that might arise. The payment for this aid was small at first, but as the Oni’s aid continued to be necessary, the demands it made grew more and more perverse. They finally drove my father – a man of law and rigid honor – insane, which was, of course, the plan all along. My father’s madness culminated in the sacrifice of every non-warrior in the fief – several hundred souls, including my mother – to power a ritual that would ensure the safety of the fief. It never occurred to my father, in his maddened state, that with no people, there really wasn’t a fief. I rode in just as he finished the ritual, plunging a dagger into my mother’s heart. At that moment, all of the samurai and bushi in the fief shuddered, then screamed, then fell writhing to the ground. Within moments, their skeletons had ripped themselves free of their flesh, and begun efficiently taking up their arms and armor and returning to positions of attention.
My father began to give them orders to kill anyone or anything that might threaten the fief.
I saw the weakness in his orders, and began to warn him that he would cause these undead warriors to move across the land, killing demons, devils, and people, alike. One look into his mad eyes, and I realized he knew what he was doing, and reveled in it. I looked down on my dead mother, drew my sword, and did the only thing possible. I killed the monster that had been my father.
As he fell, I whirled, prepared to fight the undead he had created until, as was most likely, I was killed. I was surprised to find them slowly kneeling, and offering me their swords. It seemed that part of their creation included some sort of “obey the clan lord” failsafe. With the death of my father, I have become Lord of my clan, what there was of it.
I countermanded my father’s invasion orders, went into the house, and brooded for three days.
After that, I returned to the courtyard, where hundreds of bodies had begun to putrefy, and ordered my ‘vassals’ to bury the dead. My mother and father, I buried with my own hands.
When the burials were done, I ordered the undead warriors to patrol the fief, kill any devils or demons they saw, and, if people tried to settle there, allow it. Then, I left. I couldn’t look at any part of that cursed land without feeling sick.
I gave up my name, and traveled the land fighting evil. I killed monsters, fought bandits, and when I found someone under the influence of demons, I killed him.
Each of these dragons symbolizes a truly wicked man. I will not recite the litany of their vile deeds for you, but nothing you can imagine will beat the evils they committed.
After the third one, I was given a new name – Mitsuryuu. I will keep it, no matter how many dragons I wear.” At this point, he stopped, and actually watched as the finishing touches were added to his fifth dragon.
When the tattoo was finished, we parted and I think it unlikely we will meet again. I am informed that a ronin warrior of quiet demeanor and grim mien killed one of the Shogun’s councilors and then took ship to the mainland. I hope he finds some peace there, but I think he will continue his war on evil until he has no place left to put a dragon.
I have also learned that the fief of the Hachidori (a minor clan of little consequence) is currently overrun with undead warriors, and no living person (including all members of the Hachidori clan) can be found. It is also, if rumor is to be believed, one of the few places in all of Blest that has no real devil troubles. I think I will go there and see for myself.
So where am I from?
I am alright with being a 'spy' for the advancing army.
So what are the limitations on equipment? I thought I read that you would handle anything above masterwork but if we do get to buy our gear what is our starting gold.
Finished filling out profile with Skills, feats, class info, and abilities for you to check over. Start working up a background with the your info tonight.
The Legend of Mitsuryuu (part 2)
I was in the village of Shensuto, plying my trade as a storyteller when who should walk past, but the ronin warrior of quiet demeanor and grim mien that had saved the daughter of the owner of the Teahouse of the Dancing Salamander. He was walking as if injured, and as I watched him, for what is a storyteller who does not see such characters and closely observe them, he left a small bit of blood from what looked like a sword-cut on his thigh.
I immediately concluded my tale, much to the consternation of my listeners, gathered up the meager offerings I had garnered for a day’s work, and followed him, for I hoped that his story would give me something new and wonderful to share with the world, and, in truth, I was a little ashamed that the last time I saw him, I had done nothing to either help the girl, or the help the ronin (not that he much needed the help of the likes of myself.)
We walked for some small time until, at last, he strode into a tattoo shop. I, having no fear (some would say no native intelligence,) followed him inside.
He sat down in front of the artist, an ancient, withered old man with more the look of a failed monk than of a legitimate businessman, rolled up the sleeve covering his sword arm, and exposed a most curious tattoo.
It was a chain of dragons, in number, four, starting at his wrist and climbing upward, each dragon biting the tail of the one above it. All were masterfully done, but each was of a distinctly different style – obviously done by completely different artists. The tattoo was beautiful and terrible, and I sensed that the story it told was one I needed.
The ronin warrior of quiet demeanor and grim mien said to the artist, “I need a dragon added to this chain. I have been told that you are the best tattoo artist in the region – a master. I would be honored to carry your dragon on my arm.”
As the artist examined the tattoo, making small noises of consideration, I stepped forward – only a single step, mind you; and with an oddly fluid twist, the ronin warrior drew his katana, with his left hand, and without looking at me, and leveled it at my chest. It is a credit to the professionalism of that tattoo artist that he never even looked up, just began sketching the dragon that he would add to the chain.
“You followed me for some time,” the ronin warrior of quiet demeanor and grim mien said, “Tell me what you want.”
“Ah! Great warrior,” I began, but seeing his flash of disapproval at my tone, I finished with, “I saw you fight bandits once, a year ago. To see you again can be no mere coincidence, and I feel that perhaps the Kami have decided that I should tell some small part of your tale.”
The ronin warrior of quiet demeanor and grim mien sheathed his sword, and seemed to ignore me. He was silent for such a long time that I though perhaps he was ignoring me, but as I turned to leave, he said, “I remember you. Perhaps what you say is so.”
And so, to the gentle tapping of mallet to needle, he told me this tale.
“I was not always a ronin,” he began, slowly, as if he had not much spoken in quite a while, “Once, I was the heir of one of the minor clans. My father was, in addition to being a Lord and having loyal samurai retainers, administrator of five villages, and sworn to the Shogun, himself.
I was not a good son. I was willful and uninterested in becoming a paper samurai, as I saw him, who spent more time with a brush in his hand than a sword. I spent my time away from home, much to his embarrassment, drinking and adventuring.
Things were not good in our small, coastal fief. We were often beset by devilfish, and there was little my father could do to stop them. People were dying, and the Shogun had no men to spare. Things were just as bad everywhere else, it seemed. My father tried to bring in allies from the mainland, or even to hire mercenaries, but he couldn’t find any. When I say everywhere, even the mainland was beset by evil.
My mother took me aside and asked me to go to the mainland and seek allies that were beyond my father’s reach. She said it would help the fief, which would please my father and bring honor to my family, and at the same time, it would allow me the freedom I craved and fought so hard to attain. She gave me a small amount of money, some items of great clan value, and begged me to go.
I was gone two years. I found that things were worse on the continent than we had been led to believe. I fought monsters. I made friends. But there was no aid to be had. After those two years, I felt a great need to go home. I arrived in time to witness horror.”
He paused, staring at, but not really seeing, the dragon forming on his arm, and I could only imagine what scene was playing out behind his eyes. For long minutes there was only the “tap, tap, tap” of the tattoo mallet. Finally, he took up the thread of his story.
“All was quiet, as I rode into the fief. Too quiet. There were no peasants working the fields, and no bushi patrolling the road. Something was wrong, but I didn’t know just how wrong. I kicked my horse to a gallop and sped home. What I saw there… it is difficult for even a samurai to stomach some things.
It seems that my father had found aid, but he didn’t understand the cost until it was too late and he no longer cared. A great Oni demon from the mainland had offered to help my father make his fief safe from the devilfish, as well as any other threat that might arise. The payment for this aid was small at first, but as the Oni’s aid continued to be necessary, the demands it made grew more and more perverse. They finally drove my father – a man of law and rigid honor – insane, which was, of course, the plan all along. My father’s madness culminated in the sacrifice of every non-warrior in the fief – several hundred souls, including my mother – to power a ritual that would ensure the safety of the fief. It never occurred to my father, in his maddened state, that with no people, there really wasn’t a fief. I rode in just as he finished the ritual, plunging a dagger into my mother’s heart. At that moment, all of the samurai and bushi in the fief shuddered, then screamed, then fell writhing to the ground. Within moments, their skeletons had ripped themselves free of their flesh, and begun efficiently taking up their arms and armor and returning to positions of attention.
My father began to give them orders to kill anyone or anything that might threaten the fief.
I saw the weakness in his orders, and began to warn him that he would cause these undead warriors to move across the land, killing demons, devils, and people, alike. One look into his mad eyes, and I realized he knew what he was doing, and reveled in it. I looked down on my dead mother, drew my sword, and did the only thing possible. I killed the monster that had been my father.
As he fell, I whirled, prepared to fight the undead he had created until, as was most likely, I was killed. I was surprised to find them slowly kneeling, and offering me their swords. It seemed that part of their creation included some sort of “obey the clan lord” failsafe. With the death of my father, I have become Lord of my clan, what there was of it.
I countermanded my father’s invasion orders, went into the house, and brooded for three days.
After that, I returned to the courtyard, where hundreds of bodies had begun to putrefy, and ordered my ‘vassals’ to bury the dead. My mother and father, I buried with my own hands.
When the burials were done, I ordered the undead warriors to patrol the fief, kill any devils or demons they saw, and, if people tried to settle there, allow it. Then, I left. I couldn’t look at any part of that cursed land without feeling sick.
I gave up my name, and traveled the land fighting evil. I killed monsters, fought bandits, and when I found someone under the influence of demons, I killed him.
Each of these dragons symbolizes a truly wicked man. I will not recite the litany of their vile deeds for you, but nothing you can imagine will beat the evils they committed.
After the third one, I was given a new name – Mitsuryuu. I will keep it, no matter how many dragons I wear.” At this point, he stopped, and actually watched as the finishing touches were added to his fifth dragon.
When the tattoo was finished, we parted and I think it unlikely we will meet again. I am informed that a ronin warrior of quiet demeanor and grim mien killed one of the Shogun’s councilors and then took ship to the mainland. I hope he finds some peace there, but I think he will continue his war on evil until he has no place left to put a dragon.
I have also learned that the fief of the Hachidori (a minor clan of little consequence) is currently overrun with undead warriors. It is also, if rumor is to be believed, one of the few places in all of Blest that has no real devil troubles. I think I will go there and see for myself.
Here are my numbers let me know what else you need. As said before looking at Warmage Elf. 27 2 1 91 71 19 ......6 3 2 1 3 2 Thanks for being so patient. Hopefully will get things figured out with my father this week.
Choose your place; you can be an elf that stayed in the elf community in the forest I mentioned; or one that interacted with the Chinese or the Mongols or watched to the northern grasslands that lead to the vast city of Tarantis - a port city ruled by the High Mage of Tarantis and infested with demons; hordes of demons fly over the city and to the west is pure corruption where vaste amounts of demons run wild as a living gateway to the abyss stands open; this is several hundred miles away. Keep in mind that all the elfs left this region about 5 years back and relocated to the great elven nation two continents away; as your homeland was undefendable against the vast forces that had already sacked the northern lands of the ancients, vikings, dwarves; well except for one hold out mountain that is beset my invaders from above and below; the defense is supremely lead by the Dwarven High Priest Kojan; known to bear an artifact of the prophesy called Thunderfoot and a rune weapon relic of the legendary wars in ancient times between elf and dwarf called Red Jujea. If it were not for this one stubborn dwarf clan and its viking allies; the southlands would have been crushed long ago and your elven kindred would probably not have escaped.
by gear as you would for any level 5 character per the book; when the Elven Council decided to ride to war; all Elven Armories were opened; really all of them; every item held by the nations of Wood Elf, High Elf and Sea Elf were distributed among pure blood elfs so you may take any minor magic item; most anything this is elf only or racial for them; or any +1 item if you like as well as potions and scrolls. I will give you other gear as your background implies when your done applicable to your naming day and the task you chose from the three from the above paragraph. Also; choose what type of elf you are; Grey; High, Wood; Sea. If this doesnt mean anything to you; will fill you in.
So where am I from?
I am alright with being a 'spy' for the advancing army.
So what are the limitations on equipment? I thought I read that you would handle anything above masterwork but if we do get to buy our gear what is our starting gold.
ok; your charisma is not really high enough to change any of your rolls; so go with what I wrote.
Finished filling out profile with Skills, feats, class info, and abilities for you to check over. Start working up a background with the your info tonight.
sheesh i wrote you the awesome post and the darn messageboards ate it; will try again later; darn!
Here are my numbers let me know what else you need. As said before looking at Warmage Elf. 27 2 1 91 71 19 ......6 3 2 1 3 2 Thanks for being so patient. Hopefully will get things figured out with my father this week.
Why; how come? all that stuff?
I shall go back to the drawing board on this one..
I feel like I am preparing for the battle of Pelennor Fields in Middle Earth.
BTW, Valegrim, a holy weapon needs a name... any suggestions?
PC Update:
Stunty_the_Dwarf - Mitsuryuu - human fighter 2/monk 3
Radavel - Rama - human paladin 5
Dreamweaver - Salus Loonun - elf scout 5
Nani Wahine - Selena - ?
EileenProphetofIstus - barbarian/druid?
French Wolf -?
Did I miss anyone or any erroneous details?
The Legend of Mitsuryuu (part 2.1)
I was in the village of Shensuto, plying my trade as a storyteller when who should walk past, but the ronin warrior of quiet demeanor and grim mien that had saved the daughter of the owner of the Teahouse of the Dancing Salamander. He was walking as if injured, and as I watched him, for what is a storyteller who does not see such characters and closely observe them, he left a small bit of blood from what looked like a sword-cut on his thigh.
I immediately concluded my tale, much to the consternation of my listeners, gathered up the meager offerings I had garnered for a day’s work, and followed him, for I hoped that his story would give me something new and wonderful to share with the world, and, in truth, I was a little ashamed that the last time I saw him, I had done nothing to either help the girl, or the help the ronin (not that he much needed the help of the likes of myself.)
We walked for some small time until, at last, he strode into a tattoo shop. I, having no fear (some would say no native intelligence,) followed him inside.
He sat down in front of the artist, an ancient, withered old man with more the look of a failed monk than of a legitimate businessman, rolled up the sleeve covering his sword arm, and exposed a most curious tattoo.
It was a chain of dragons, in number, four, starting at his wrist and climbing upward, each dragon biting the tail of the one above it. All were masterfully done, but each was of a distinctly different style – obviously done by completely different artists. The tattoo was beautiful and terrible, and I sensed that the story it told was one I needed.
The ronin warrior of quiet demeanor and grim mien said to the artist, “I need a dragon added to this chain. I have been told that you are the best tattoo artist in the region – a master. I would be honored to carry your dragon on my arm.”
As the artist examined the tattoo, making small noises of consideration, I stepped forward – only a single step, mind you; and with an oddly fluid twist, the ronin warrior drew his katana, with his left hand, and without looking at me, and leveled it at my chest. It is a credit to the professionalism of that tattoo artist that he never even looked up, just began sketching the dragon that he would add to the chain.
“You followed me for some time,” the ronin warrior of quiet demeanor and grim mien said, “Tell me what you want.”
“Ah! Great warrior,” I began, but seeing his flash of disapproval at my tone, I finished with, “I saw you fight bandits once, a year ago. To see you again can be no mere coincidence, and I feel that perhaps the Kami have decided that I should tell some small part of your tale.”
The ronin warrior of quiet demeanor and grim mien sheathed his sword, and seemed to ignore me. He was silent for such a long time that I though perhaps he was ignoring me, but as I turned to leave, he said, “I remember you. Perhaps what you say is so.”
And so, to the gentle tapping of mallet to needle, he told me this tale.
“I was not always a ronin,” he began, slowly, as if he had not much spoken in quite a while, “Once, I was the heir of one of the minor clans. My father was, in addition to being a Lord and having loyal samurai retainers, administrator of five villages, and sworn to the Shogun, himself.
I was not a good son. I was willful and uninterested in becoming a paper samurai, as I saw him, who spent more time with a brush in his hand than a sword. I spent my time away from home, much to his embarrassment, drinking and adventuring.
Things were not good in our small, coastal fief. We were often beset by devilfish, and there was little my father could do to stop them. People were dying, and the Shogun had no men to spare. Things were just as bad everywhere else, it seemed. My father tried to bring in allies from the mainland, or even to hire mercenaries, but he couldn’t find any. When I say everywhere, even the mainland was beset by evil.
My mother took me aside and asked me to go to the mainland and seek allies that were beyond my father’s reach. She said it would help the fief, which would please my father and bring honor to my family, and at the same time, it would allow me the freedom I craved and fought so hard to attain. She gave me a small amount of money, some items of great clan value, and begged me to go.
I was gone two years. I found that things were worse on the continent than we had been led to believe. I fought monsters. I made friends. But there was no aid to be had. After those two years, I felt a great need to go home. I arrived in time to witness horror.”
He paused, staring at, but not really seeing, the dragon forming on his arm, and I could only imagine what scene was playing out behind his eyes. For long minutes there was only the “tap, tap, tap” of the tattoo mallet.
The Legend of Mitsuryuu (part 2.2)
Finally, he took up the thread of his story.
“All was quiet, as I rode into the fief. Too quiet. There were no peasants working the fields, and no bushi patrolling the road. Something was wrong, but I didn’t know just how wrong. I kicked my horse to a gallop and sped home. What I saw there… it is difficult for even a samurai to stomach some things.
It seems that my father had found aid, but he didn’t understand the cost until it was too late and he no longer cared. A great Oni demon from the mainland had offered to help my father make his fief safe from the devilfish, as well as any other threat that might arise. The payment for this aid was small at first, but as the Oni’s aid continued to be necessary, the demands it made grew more and more perverse. They finally drove my father – a man of law and rigid honor – insane, which was, of course, the plan all along. My father’s madness culminated in the sacrifice of every non-warrior in the fief – several hundred souls, including my mother – to power a ritual that would ensure the safety of the fief. It never occurred to my father, in his maddened state, that with no people, there really wasn’t a fief. I rode in just as he finished the ritual, plunging a dagger into my mother’s heart. At that moment, all of the samurai and bushi in the fief shuddered, then screamed, then fell writhing to the ground. Within moments, their skeletons had ripped themselves free of their flesh, and begun efficiently taking up their arms and armor and returning to positions of attention.
My father began to give them orders to kill anyone or anything that might threaten the fief.
I saw the weakness in his orders, and began to warn him that he would cause these undead warriors to move across the land, killing demons, devils, and people, alike. One look into his mad eyes, and I realized he knew what he was doing, and reveled in it. I looked down on my dead mother, drew my sword, and did the only thing possible. I killed the monster that had been my father.
As he fell, I whirled, prepared to fight the undead he had created until, as was most likely, I was killed. I was surprised to find them slowly kneeling, and offering me their swords. It seemed that part of their creation included some sort of “obey the clan lord” failsafe. With the death of my father, I have become Lord of my clan, what there was of it.
I countermanded my father’s invasion orders, went into the house, and brooded for three days.
After that, I returned to the courtyard, where hundreds of bodies had begun to putrefy, and ordered my ‘vassals’ to bury the dead. My mother and father, I buried with my own hands.
When the burials were done, I ordered the undead warriors to patrol the fief, kill any devils or demons they saw, and, if people tried to settle there, allow it. Then, I left. I couldn’t look at any part of that cursed land without feeling sick.
I gave up my name, and traveled the land fighting evil. I killed monsters, fought bandits, and when I found someone under the influence of demons, I killed him.
Each of these dragons symbolizes a truly wicked man. I will not recite the litany of their vile deeds for you, but nothing you can imagine will beat the evils they committed.
After the third one, I was given a new name – Mitsuryuu. I will keep it, no matter how many dragons I wear.” At this point, he stopped, and actually watched as the finishing touches were added to his fifth dragon.
When the tattoo was finished, we parted and I think it unlikely we will meet again. I am informed that a ronin warrior of quiet demeanor and grim mien killed one of the Shogun’s councilors and then took ship to the mainland. I hope he finds some peace there, but I think he will continue his war on evil until he has no place left to put a dragon.
I have also learned that the fief of the Hachidori (a minor clan of little consequence) is currently overrun with undead warriors. It is also, if rumor is to be believed, one of the few places in all of Blest that has no real devil troubles. I think I will go there and see for myself.
I posted that as a single post, twice, and neither one showed up. I'm assuming that there's a character limit on the size of a post.
If the other two show up, I apologize for taking up so much band-width.
Valegrym - I took a couple of magic items - a +1 Katana, and 3 potions of cure light wounds. I then figured that after the gear I had, and the few items I took, the rest of my cash was subsumed by the items you gave me.
http://www.touregypt.net/ename/?total=Thresher
go to this webaddy and use your mouse to type in Thresher; ie your flail is to separate the chaff from the wheat.
how about that? gives you the symbols; is pretty cool; if you want another name that is ok.
I feel like I am preparing for the battle of Pelennor Fields in Middle Earth.
BTW, Valegrim, a holy weapon needs a name... any suggestions?
No; not a band width issue; have types really long ones before with no issue; sometimes the messageboard just eats them; try to get in the habit of selecting all your post and copy; then hit the post button; if it doesnt show; open the post again; paste; then repost; it usually works; I forget to do this sometimes, but it will save you aggravation if you remember.
Valegrym - I took a couple of magic items - a +1 Katana, and 3 potions of cure light wounds. I then figured that after the gear I had, and the few items I took, the rest of my cash was subsumed by the items you gave me.
is the +1 due to masterwork or magic or someother?
Eileen? you doing the corsair? or still thinking? Lots of ocean; might not be a bad choice; but really anyting is good.
Ok; try number two; your areas rolls are very cool for storyline :) as well.
am not sure how I can put maps the size I have on so you guys can see them; will work on it but am open to suggestions.
anyway; the area you rolled gives you some nice background choices.
you rolled just south of the Valley of the Ancients; a bit northeast of the evil city of Tarantis; on the northern cusp of the ancient battleground the elves refer to as "Dust of Sorrows" the last and climatic battleground in the bloodwar between Elf and Dwarf over the secret of Rune Magic. Vast and powerful spells and outsiders as well as great armies of elf and dwarf and all their allies met here in a cataclysmic battle some 3000 years ago; the powers unleased were so mighty the entire area sunk over a mile down; we are talking about an area about the size of Texas where now nothing supposedly exists besides an enormous sea of red dust; an area so magically potent from spells that strange and weird creatures roam the dunes; Think of this are as Dune by Frank Herbert with lots of fantasy added in.
you are from a large forest right at the northern cusp of this drop which is also a meeting area for trade with the various creatures that live in the dune area; to the east is only death; vast ranges of land that once lead to the citadel, Tri-Clorius Emperesptum; a place built after time of Reunification where Elf, Dwarf, and Human built this citadel and each Empire would send troops and a Prince of blood to rule there. It was sacked about 10 years ago from within; details are unknown.
To the North is the last bastion of good besides your band of elf; human, and halfling freedom fighters (the rest of the elves returned to the elven empire to answer the call of the World Emperor; ie the Elf King. to the north a couple hundred miles is what you have heard gnoll; giant and whatnot refer to as the "thorn of blood or Dying ground"; the only Dwarven stronghold which has not yet fallen primarily to the power of the hold greatest hero; Kojan, a name no elf says without spitting. The mighty Kojan has the item of prophesy called Thunderfoot and a relic of power from the ancient elf/dwarf war called Red Jejuea, a hammer made to kill elves and more with powerful Rune Magic; there they hold; the last of the dwarves on this continent and some of their viking allies.
Your area is overrun by the forces of choas; and your group is one of many bands of freedom fighters behind the lines; one fact you know for certain; no force of chaos; not demon, undead, or giant dares enter the red dune wasteland for fear of the worms; ie Purple worms mutated by the red dust; vast creatures to be sure.
one point of light stands in your groups favor; the reason you guy were left behind; in that forest, hidden by the elves; is a Golemax; an ancient golem weapon of great size created in a time of wonder before the elves were suduced by lolth and the races split; a time when dwarf and elf were brothers in battle. Every archmage or wizard who looks with magic site upon the Golemax; does so with wonder and a shudder at the power contained within; for eons it has stood there to guard against some evil of prophesy; only nobody knows how to make it work; rumor came about 5 years ago that an adventuring group solved the riddle and one was seen moving by the Well of Life; a ranger named Cera from your group was dispatched to find the truth and bring back the answer to the riddle; she never returned; it has been 5 years and the only thing you have heard as she came buy and said hi to a group of scouts from your clan while she was with Kojan - spit- and some dwarves and vikings who were on there way to make a suicide raid on Tarantis.
so; you may choose a backgroud around a forest dweller with druids and mages; dune watcher with mages and mystics - mostly human; or have a background guarding the plains to the north and east and interacting with humans of various tribes; mostly semi nomadic in the north to more settled and germanic in the south near Tarantis - the mighty port city. After you pick I will give you bit more specific knowledge of the goings on of that area.
anyway; the freedom fighters have decided to dispatch another person to the Well of Life; to consult those there about the knowledge of the golemax and find the answer to the riddle as thins are very desperate in your homeland.
Here are my numbers let me know what else you need. As said before looking at Warmage Elf. 27 2 1 91 71 19 ......6 3 2 1 3 2 Thanks for being so patient. Hopefully will get things figured out with my father this week.
hmm no dwarves yet eh....
is the +1 due to masterwork or magic or someother?
It's magic
from mage or priest; only matter for resistances of mobs on what kind of magic sometimes; is rare but it comes up from time to time.
can be either; just choose.
It's magicis the +1 due to masterwork or magic or someother?
No Dwarves..... Hrmm what about Half-Orcs? At least a Drow.....
No Dwarves..... Hrmm what about Half-Orcs? At least a Drow.....
Well at least they all so far have intresting backrounds. unlike how mine was ;-)
heh your character was hardly booring; sure you rolled lower lower class and nobody cared about your in your family one way or the other and your parents werent married; well welcome to life of a uhm; hehe cant really say that on this board hehe. And hehe didnt you have like a negative charisma modifier at the time; hehe. You are the hero of your family know; well; sorta; you have that doom thing and serious family issues if you know what I mean hehe and we are all still realing from your becoming a mom in the game; icky foo their to be sure hehe.
orcs; sheesh; you know how they talk in my game; gonna have to come up with some way to transpose that to pg rated :)
kinda nice having peeps play humans; just hope we dont get elfed under; three is ok; but was just commenting that having a dwarf is often helpful due to their racials; no biggie though; want peeps to play what they want; it is all good.
No Dwarves..... Hrmm what about Half-Orcs? At least a Drow.....Well at least they all so far have intresting backrounds. unlike how mine was ;-)
but seriously; back to getting these guys started; am hoping to start this week.
One note on dieties that I had forgotten that none of my players had mentioned; I will put stuff like this in as I remember it or as it comes up.
Dieties have avatars; in my game a diety can have a number of avatars based on power level and classes; but no avatar can have all the classes that the diety has; so you might see an avatar of a diety that only has say; the dieties paladin levels or the dieties wizard levels; so when I say there is a diety or such walking around; just keep in mind that I mean its avatar and not the actual diety.
Also; bit about religion; if all the priests of a religion are dead; then most dieties that this happens to will not be able to manifest higher powers in the world, ie no avatars for example.; if all followers of most dieties are killed; then that diety is cut off from accessing the world. Some dieties are not dependant on followers; but most are.
ok; getting divine spells; all spells levels 1-3 are ambient in the world if your diety has priests. levels 4, 5, 6 and higher are brought to you by by a servant of your diety; level 7 by direct commune.
Divine spells are always stronger in the area that has worshipers of the diety; if your egyptian for example and in the viking area; then your spells are probably being granted by either the dieties that control that area who are in alliance with your diety; or; by direct permission to your diety from whomeever the head diety of the region is. Typically this sort of thing is invisible to players; but things of epic or themeatic sequence sometimes occur also; such as if your character worships Zeus; when under water or under ground Posiden or Hades will take over; they are brothers and work together but are jealous of their realms; so there would be some changes as your change realms; still this is usually a good thing as it opens up spell lists for the type region your are in that are often helpful instead of being stuck with spells you cant do like control weather while underground.
ok; one last thing; many dieties are dead; but others in their pantheon are taking up the slack; so for Osiris for example well; in the world people just believe he is still granting spells and abilities ;but unknown to most; it is really Ra or Isis filling in and listening for those prayers.
Hmmm... divine, I think. Seems more in line with the "Mystical Japan" kind of thing I've got going on.
ok; sounds good.
wow not posts in a while; does that mean we are ready to go? Pipe up if your ready or is you need something from me to get finished with your character please.
ready
coolness, anyone else ready or near ready or need finishing touches? I can start with just two but would be better to get more peeps moving at the same time; no worries though; just chime in and let me know.
|
Yeah,
This isn't happening, I'm afraid. My workload is increasing and my son becoming a touch too demanding for another game. In the long run, I would probably have to drop out in a month or two anyway, and its likely to happen in other games if I have spread myself too thin.
All week I have ummed and arrrhhed because I'd like to take part in this but no dice.
Good Luck to you and the players, Valegrim.
Cheers
Alright I have just finished my background so take a look.
For the next several years Salus has honed his skills with the small band of resistance fighters against the demon infesting their old homeland. Just recently he has received news from his mother that he is needed, his father is dying. Salus was torn on whether he should leave or not because he really no longer cares about his father. News quickly spread that he was requested to head towards the Well of Life and was approached by his commanding officer and was asked if he could go there under the guise of visiting his family and gather any information he could and return with it.
After traveling several months Salus has just arrived in the Well of Life ready to start his assignment.
After this I should be ready to go. I will help my wife Nani finish up her stuff tonight and then she should be ready around tomorrow night.