GM SpiderBeard's Fall of Plaguestone (Inactive)

Game Master Barvo Delancy

Gigon is the son of the Hazzil Village Baker, Izzila. Growing up without a father was hard for him, since the other children made fun of him for it. Every time he asked his Mother about it, she would simply say ”He had his reasons”, an answer he finally learned to live with. At the age of 12, he began an apprenticeship with Master Vollez in his Apothecary. Turns out he had a knack for herb lore and had a voracious appetite for learning. One day, while Master Vollez was asleep, the overeager apprentice worked feverishly on a formula he was certain would work. The accidental explosion proved him wrong. As the gaseous mixture of vaporized herbs struck his nostrils, Gigon began convulsing and passed out into a vivid hallucination of a giant raven chasing him through some strange forest. Master Vollez managed to save the Gnome just in time. Since then however, Gigon has been far more cautious in his experimentation's, and a near paralytic fear of ravens. But also, his sight was far improved, allowing him to see in almost total darkness.

When he turned twenty-five, Gigon met Minix, a beautiful female Gnome that worked at the village Blacksmith. Finer quality horse shoes you could never find. After months of asking, she finally agreed to go out on a date, and they’ve been a couple ever since. Then came the day when his Mother told him there was a letter from his Father, wanting him to come to Plaguestone so they can meet. A cacophony of emotions welled up within him, and after a couple of days, decided to go to Plaguestone. Fortunately for him, Bort Bargith's caravan was arriving any day now.

Joe's a good ol' boy who is just a good natured, fun-loving, kinda guy! And he's pretty mean with a scythe. Hey, growing up on a farm, he HAD to know how to use one. ;)

He was in a couple of games back in the day. I liked him better originally in the first game. Mainly because he clicked really well with those characters. It's amazing how much of a difference that makes.

And his background can just about work. It could probably use a few tweaks but that's pretty much the gist of it. Just looking for something more in his life so time to hit the road and see what's out there. :)

Anghariel, formerly of the Kyoni Toinnaeril line, once had it all. Besides being gifted with coldly regal beauty, she was a prodigy at everything arcane and betrothed to Gyrtlon Muërtyllen, the firstborn son of a renowned military officer. Her future seemed so very bright to her, right up until the day her beloved died in a hunting accident. Thinking very highly indeed of her talents, and having secretly studied some of the darker magic arts, a grief-stricken Anghariel eventually attempted to restore her betrothed to life…but while she succeeded in bringing something back, it was not Gyrtlon.

The thing from beyond injured Anghariel severely and butchered several members of the Muërtyellen household before it could finally be put down. Anghariel’s punishment, once she had recuperated sufficiently to receive it, was disownment by her family and exile from Kyonin. She did not challenge the verdict and has been roaming the world ever since, a ragged shadow of her former proud self. Her guilt continues to gnaw at her unceasingly, but at the same time she cannot forget how it felt to wield such awesome power on that fateful day, and rather than eschewing it she is instead resolved to learn how to use it more wisely.

Deep down, Anghariel harbours the arguably unrealistic hope of one day redeeming herself sufficiently, somehow, to be accepted back into her homeland and perhaps even be named a Toinnaeril once more. For the time being she wanders aimlessly, penitent and humble, trying to at least mitigate the stain on her soul by being selfless and using her magic for good – while aiming to prove in the process, perhaps to herself as much as to anybody else, that even the necromantic arts are not necessarily a tool of evil.

Talin Proum once knew his place in the world. Third son of the mayor of Arwyll Stead, he had been squired to the Arwyll family, and had great plans to serve as a proud defender of the Stead against the continual threat of the orcs and the looming presence of the Whispering Tyrant. Now, as far as he knows, he is the last Steader alive. When pressed he tells a story of a valiant defense of the small keep at the Stead, of being struck down by a skeleton during the defense and regaining his senses in a pile of bodies in the captured keep, and sneaking his way out by the privy followed by months wandering in the wilderness evading undead patrols.

An open and honest young man he has made his way from town to town guarding caravans, doing odd jobs and helping around town. When asked most would describe him as a nice young man, a young puppy that got beaten. While initially accepted, some miasma hangs on him that eventually causes him to wear out his welcome. It is rare to find him relaxed, and that only seems to occur when he is deep in cups of ale. Every so often one can find him standing somewhere odd, a blank ashen look on his face, his eyes lost, boxes or bags forgotten in his hands.

While the fighting continues around Lake Encarthan, Traine father sent him and his companion, a she wolf named Athena, south after their house burned down and the rest of the family went with his father somewhere else. As he was the oldest, he could make it on his own and father had him go.

Finding a caravan heading in the direction that he was going anyway, Traine spoke with Bort and offered his services as hunter and guide on the journey.

A young man, just out of his teens, Traine is somewhat somber after he and his family watched their house burn down, however as the journey continues his normal buoyant self begins to show more and more, especially as he continues to train and play with his wolf.

When combat comes, and it will as he knows well, Traine will loose an arrow, and then fight side by side with Athena. Asking and giving no quarter.

Findlaine’s early life was spent in Greengold, the only port that allowed outsiders in Kyonin at the time. Growing up looking out at Lake Encarthan, knowing that accross on the other side knights in Lastwall were fighting against the Whispering Way, she began to imagine she could do the same. Her parents did not much like the idea, so she kept her physical training and prayers to Iomedae to herself. Growing up with the influences of elven society and Iomedaen ideals, the path of the redeemer suited her much better than that of a paladin.

Against the wishes of her parents, Findlaine saved money for years to make the trip to Lastwall and begin training. Unfortunately for her, her timing could not have been any worse. Not two months after her arrival did the Whispering Tyrant return and leave his terrible stain on the world once again.

There are few things that Findlaine recalls from her escape from Lastwall, but among them is an assuredness that something is very wrong with her. Brought back from the brink of death, she was told through her delirium that she nearly had succumb to ghoul fever. Elidir behind her, she hopes to strengthen her body and mind, inform her family that she is okay, and join the remaining knights of Lastwall when she is prepared.

Will mostly be a frontline tank sword and shield type character. Planning on taking the undead bloodline sorcerer archetype at 2 for some fun spellcasting opportunity.

Galen grew up in the church. his parents were both priests in the church of Sarenrae. as soon as he could read, Galen was memorizing holy texts and assisting his parents in performing their duties. Though he felt a bit restricted in his choice of career, Galen had a happy childhood and a loving family. Growing up, he always had a wish to see beyond the tiny horizon his close-knit family offered him.

As he grew up, he decided that he wanted to leave and see the world. his parents were hesitant to let him go, but finally he found an opportunity. he began speaking to higher priests within the church and got their blessing to become a missionary, opening up the world to him. with the church's blessing he could finally get out from under his parents' constant oversight and see all the corners of the world!

Then the whispering tyrant escaped and wrought destruction on a grand scale. Galen in his naiveté saw this as an opportunity. there would be thousands of people needing aid and potentially more open to hearing the message of Sarenrae. even better that the destruction was caused by the undead! He might even get to cast down holy fire on the evil undead. the call to adventure and holy justice was too much for Galen to resist, and after an impassioned argument with his parents he finally swayed them and convinced them to let him go. now he travels towards Isger, his father's scimitar at his side.

look! a PC with both parents currently living!

7th born son to Murenas Pitius, standing member of court in Cheliax and Dominus of a gladiator ring in the eastern reaches of Longmarch, Pollo Pitius grew up an optimistic little scrapper. Too far down his family's line to pay attention to, he never really took time to realize what inheritance he might have missed out on. As far as Pollo was concerned, life was perfect. He lived above the mud, which meant that rolling in it was his choice. Besides, who needs an inheritance when all you need is a couple of good sturdy slaves you can teach to fight, and build your own wealth in the ring?

The older Pollo got, the more the magic and pageantry of the gladiator ring called to him. It wasn't so much that he was trying to follow in his father's footsteps. He was simply... enchanted by the thrill of a good fight. He would watch all day and night if he could. No one at home bothered to pay attention to his whereabouts except on the nights of the formal gatherings in his home. (empty seats at the grand table were grounds for whipping) He picked apart every fight. He took notes of the different teams belonging to the other Domini, their fighting style, and critiqued their flaws. He imagined how he would teach them, train them, and deploy them to dominate the ring. Bookies began to stop taking his wagers, or instead began giving him terrible odds on account of his knack for picking the right side. He still doesn't remember the moment, but somewhere along the way he knew that it was his destiny to build his own stable of fighters. He took that passion to his own fighting lessons. Instead of seeing and endless career in the military as his lot in life, he saw the training as a means to an end.

One day, Pollo's father was rather abruptly no longer a member of the court. He announced to his family that he had retired, though it didn't take a soothsayer to figure out that something had happened. His father had lost his position, but somehow managed to keep his status. It was the break Pollo had been waiting for. He sent a letter to a cousin he had only met a few times, hoping any cache his last name had left would at least help him get out of the country where he could start to build his own empire, brick by brick.

Milo Townsend grew up in the Ordellia District of Magnimar. When he was younger, he fell in with the wrong crowd and joined the Night Scales. He gradually became disillusioned with the criminal life, and had recently left the gang.

He found that leaving the Night Scales wasn't as easy as he'd hoped, and came to the realization that he needed to get out of the city for a while. After getting in touch with a few relatives, he accepted an invitation to stay with a second cousin in Almas, the capital of Andoran.

Motivation: Milo wants to turn his life around, and make up for some of the harm that he caused as member of the Night Scales.

I have played roleplaying games for many years, and started playing PBP on the Paizo Boards in early 2017. I like to post every day, or more as the pace allows, and will push things along when the pace lags.

You can see from my posting history that I stick with my games, and am in them for the long haul. All the non-playtest characters in my Alias tab started at 1st lvl, and one has risen to 15th lvl in 2.5 years.

Kamron always wanted to be a great warrior astride a shining white horse battling evil in whatever form it took, but as a lowly serf, that idea was more of a fantasy than anything else....or so he thought. Always an active part of the local Church of Iomedae, it was with some surprise that the local priest singled him out for training. While he would never make a priest, his strength of body and spirit made him a good candidate to become a champion of the goddess. With much hard work and diligence, Kamron was soon on his way to becoming a holy warrior of Iomedae.

Nosh always knew he was smart, but He didn't really know HOW smart until they found the strange book in the ruined tower. No one else could make heads or tails of it except Nosh. He had already learned Infernal while they were in the Whisperwood in Cheliax but after they moved to the Chitterwood Isger, he didn't know it would come in handy. All of the books in this place were in Infernal, but this one book was especially difficult to understand. It took Nosh at least hours to read it and none of the others had the patience, but Nosh did. The magic in it looked simple enough once he had read the whole thing. Hold your hands in a certain way, speak these words and Focus and a spectral hand appears. It was a neat trick, but it wasn't that hard and it was fun to spook the others but they didn't like it. It scared them. He tried to show them how he could help them, but they didn't want to hear about "transient abjurational warding" or "Necromantic Attenuation of life-force". That just made them more scared and Nosh had to run away, they would have hurt him and he had to get away. He lived on his own for a while until he made his way to Eilider. The Dwarf in Eilider had told him that he would be safe in Andora so Nosh gave him his money and tried to keep out of everyone's way...but there were so many tricks to play...

I've been wanting to play a Wizard for a while, and the idea of a Goblin wizard intrigued me. I've been trying to work out what it would look like to be a very intelligent and relatively disciplined goblin surrounded by stereotypical goblins and the idea grew on me. The idea is that now one would want to teach a goblin, or even think to take the time so Nosh just stumbled upon a Spell book and "figured it out".

I'm in 3 active PbP games right now, including one that I DM but none of them are PF2E and I want to give it a whirl. This is a lot of new stuff for me because, in addition to that, I've never played a prepared caster before, so I don't think Nosh will turn out optimized at all, in case that matters.

Kaiyra Vendrick has never fit in with her family. They're all obsessed with the ebb and flow of Andoran politics. Kaiyra prefers the ebb and flow of actual waves. As a child, she'd sneak away from classes to watch the local monks. She'd mimic their flowing katas as best she could. Her family soon gave up trying to 'correct' her. After all, she's the youngest of five siblings. She'd never inherit anything important.

That suited Kaiyra just fine. Free of family expectation, she devoted herself to physical and spiritual pursuits. The monks were happy to teach her how to take a stance, and channel her ki. Under their tutelage, Kaiyra became a decent martial artist. She looked forward to learning so much more from them. Sadly, her family intervened first. Local tongues were starting to wag. Kaiyra had gone from being merely useless, to an actual embarrassment. The family wearied of her impacting their reputation. Before she knew it, Kaiyra found herself on a caravan to Almas. She holds little hope that the relatives there will be more welcoming. From now on, she'll have to forge her own path.

Zhulkov grew up as part of the Crimson Furies, a loose tribe of orcs and half-orcs living in the Mindspin Mountains. They are a wild lot, bending a knee to none save a red dragon that makes its home in the mountains. Of course, with a group that inclined to rebellion, it takes very little for members to decide to break off on their own. Zhulkov decide to make his way out into the world, and see something of life beyond the mountains.

Cut from a family line long under Ustalav’s dread shadow, Osveta had the partial blessing to be born and raised in Vigil, rather than the horror filled country of her ancestors. Hearing subtly conflicting stories from her family and friends regarding her ancestral home and their former masters Osveta decided for herself to become a Knight of Ozem. A decision that rested warily with her family.

But they didn’t stop her, and so she trained. To combat the undead and protect people from monsters, though her temper and aggression constantly kept her from knighthood, she didn’t lose sight of her path. Rumors of her family’s cursed blood and dealings with the dead didn’t help either, nor did more rumors that they might be right, with odd happenings occurring during her more rigorous martial training moments.

And then the Tyrant returned, while her family disappeared. Out on what supposed to be a simple delivery mission soon turned into a waking nightmare as her and her compatriots were met by hordes of the living fleeing the hordes of the dead. While she wanted to return to Vigil the more she heard talk of her family she cast that want aside, protecting every refugee to the last was more important. She told herself that anyway. Constantly.

Finally moving into the (relatively) safer country of Isger the groups split up, and then those split up, and then those. Until she was alone. Yet still she wandered south, rather than returning north, the rumors resting heavy on her head, and in the bottom of various bottles. Even hearing of the Tyrant’s apparent defeat did little to quell the nightmares. But those came natural to the Dauds, and so she continued on.

Abandoned as a child, he was sold and traded. For as long as he can recall, he was able to move objects with his mind, sense magic and perform tiny miracles. These abilities made him highly profitable when sold but rarely pleased his masters. Over and over, Kwe was beaten into submission then forced to persevere or die. He has spent his entire life on the road.

At 13 Kwe found himself sworn to another brutal master with a name he can no longer recall. Late one night, when the caravan had set up camp, Kwe woke to the sounds of battle, men screaming, and flesh tearing. A blade plunged into his severely scarred back and he quickly lost consciousness. When Kwe came to, he found himself laying in a pile of dead bodies, alive. He walked for hours before encountering another caravan following the same route. Kwe offered his skills in exchange for food and a small wage, he was free.

After his owner's caravan was killed by bandits, he's worked for one caravan company and then another. Kwe is always on the lookout for a new job and a better life. Last week, he was hired by the Bort Bargith’s company in Elidir.