Alana Brienne DeVere's page

I love gothic horror.

This is a character I made for the Carrion Crown AP that had been modified to be extra gothic-horrory. So she has an extra level of horror to her backstory, being saddled with a generational curse and unorthodox means of escaping it. Read the spoilers in her profile if you're interested.

I'm not sure where she'd be from originally, probably Gavony or Stensia -- whichever province has room for human nobility that's not in total thrall to the monsters plaguing the area.

Still here and still interested as well

@Alana: Alright, that ties up the "why" of the Bard quite nicely. The grandfather's contract is a solid push, but as far as a Gilligan's Island dilemma, would that mean that a toward-the-end resolution of that would not be something you would want to get into, and if this game were to run to the end, you would want her to be left hanging on still having to sort that out?

It's hard to say. I don't see what the endgame is going to be like, because what truly matters will be the journey. What sort of sacrifices will she have to make? What relationships will she develop? What about her own self-discovery? There's so many ways it could play out. If we reach the end (and I've been on these boards long enough to know that that rarely happens), I expect I'll know based on whatever's happened along the way. But right now? No idea.

@Alana Brienne DeVere: Well for one any character whose first impression is "f$#+ed in a graveyard" has my attention immediately. That's some goth aesthetic ideals right there. As for your backstory, the elements there are fine, but there's some bits I kind of feel missing, as far as what she does given the whole Bard thing and what her life is outside of the devil situation, but also in motivation. What are Alana's goals? What scares her? What does she want to do and how does what happened to her shape her actions? I imagine it's something tied to her predicament, but the specific form of it is what I'm after. As far as specific rebuilding, don't worry too much about it; I let people make whatever changes to their sheet they want up to their first die roll, so with characters already made to other specifications I'm fine with holding out until they're accepted. Characters get started for other recruitments or want to change some elements around because the Bard and Wizard both have a similar starting spell and one wants to switch it out. It's all good.

Hmmm. Tempted to pull this character out of mothballs for another go at Carrion Crown. I created her for a modified version of the AP that seemed to have a lot of the same intentions to break from the script. It didn't get very far, unfortunately.

If selected, I'll have to re-jigger the stats to conform to the build rules (no score over 18 after bonuses), but that won't be too difficult. Other than that, she's pretty much ready to go.

Here's the background for Alana. There's also a few more vignettes in the profile, too, if you want to read more.

Are we waiting on someone?

Alana leaves her bow and quiver of arrows behind, along with her backpack of gear. She draws her fur-lined cloak over her shoulders and makes sure her rapier and coiled whip are not easily visible, though they both hang off her hips. Before they step out, she speaks a word of magic and gestures over her garments. The spell quickly cleans off any trace of cobwebs and dust that might still remain on her travel clothes that may indicate their trip into the crypt last night. She also checks out the Lady Soldavaso and Dragomir for similar incriminating evidence, and uses the same magic on them if necessary.

"Just in case we meet someone especially observant," she explains with a twist of a smile on her mouth. "Let's go.

Alana lopes along with the others, keeping more of an eye on the wolf than the other two she's with. She also takes in the village of Ravengro with a bit more interest, knowing that she'll be staying for a bit longer than she'd originally intended.

Alana finishes collecting the books she dropped and nods to Dragomir. "Sure, I'll come along. Lady Soldavaso, do you wish to join us?"

She sets the stack of books on the table, then goes to get ready for venturing out.

Definitely having a good time!

@Nasrin: I wouldn't call that nat 20 a "waste," since it's great fodder for rp. I especially liked Dragomir's reaction. But I understand your point. ;)

Oh, and technically I have all knowledge skills, thanks to Bardic Knowledge. Right now, it's only a +4 for the skills I haven't put points in, but hopefully there will be more good rolls in the future.

I think Daviana's plan is solid.

Alana walks back into the room, carrying a stack of books she had selected from the shelves.

"If you're worried about that, I could take Nicodemus around looking for it. I doubt I'd be suspected if I found it." With that, she draws in a gasp and goes wide-eyed, dropping the books and clamping her hands over her mouth in a show of fright.
Bluff: 1d20 + 7 - 2 ⇒ (20) + 7 - 2 = 25

"I could add a scream for good measure," she says with a smirk after the performance is over.

Alana's heart sinks as she hears about the circumstances of the Professor's death. She was all-too familiar with the hazards of exploring ruins. She couldn't count the number of times a rotted floor gave way, or a crumbling ceiling collapsed, mere moments after she had crossed it.

"So did you explore around the prison any? How far inside did he get?" Alana pipes up, turning her thoughts to what the professor may have discovered before he was killed.

Alana can't help but roll her eyes at the suggestion of asking for permission to loot a gravesite. She always felt it was better to ask for forgiveness than for permission when it came to exploring. But she keeps her mouth shut, resolving to not be a part of that conversation so she could conveniently "misinterpret" what she felt would most likely be a denial of the request.

Alana shrugs nonchalantly when Dragomir suggests she and Ishara work through the professor's books. She secretly really wanted a chance to peruse his papers, and this would be a perfect opportunity. Plus, she loved delving through old books -- there were always clues about interesting finds if you knew in which tomes to look. Besides this business with Harrowstone, she wondered if the professor knew anything about last night's mystery crypt.

While breakfast is being made, she begins perusing the titles, absent-mindedly humming a tune.

When Ishara points to the Professor's study and his collection of books, Alana offers a grin. "Why don't we start here, then?"

Alana skulks into the kitchen quietly and slips into her seat without a word. She accepts a cup of coffee with a small smile that rapidly fades away. She raises head when Kendra asks who's hungry, and nods at the chance to break her fast.

When Nasrin speaks, she clears her throat. "That's easy. If there's a town hall with some records stashed away somewhere, we go there. Or the Church of Pharasma. Any sort of sage, or library."

She grabs a chunk of cheese and pops in in her mouth. "There's also the blood from last night. We should check that out, too. Maybe the Lady's wolf can sniff it out," she says while chewing.

Alana shakes her head when she fails to decipher the faint aura on the medallion. She drops it back in her pocket and decides to head upstairs to find a room. The talk of setting watches seemed overly paranoid in her mind, so she slips quietly upstairs lest one of them deliberately assign her a watch.

Picking a guest room at random, she uses her own light spell to illuminate it rather than fuss with candles or lamps. The events of the day catch up to her quickly, and within the cantrip's duration she had undressed, crawled into bed and was fast asleep.

Alana wakes the next morning with a tune she cannot get out of her head.

Alana opens her mouth to defend herself, but then realizes Dragomir didn't call her by name for failing to pick the lock. She shuts it quickly and pushes her way inside. Despite feeling like mentioning the old mausoleum she had noticed that went unexplored, she remained silent on that as well. If none of the others felt like exploring that tomb later, she'd venture out when it was convenient and check it out herself.

She didn't really know what to think of the lady and her wolf, and her assertion that blood had been spilled somewhere. Nor did she know what sort of danger Nasrin encountered with the book. Was it the one she failed to open?

Lastly, she wondered if she should mention the fact that the night was unnaturally silent. She had noticed there was not the usual sounds of nocturnal wildlife as they returned to the estate, but stayed quiet herself to avoid unnecessary noise.

Now that they were back in relative safety, Alana wonders if mentioning that fact would make her seem more nervous than she was -- since she wasn't. She'd explored creepier and more ancient tombs and mausoleums, and some of the old decrepit mansions of Ardeal were far more ominous. She'd bravely spelunked far worse, and survived by her wits and her luck. So nothing here in quiet Canterwall would cause her to feel fear, she resolved.

She unloads her exploring gear and gets ready to warm herself up by the fading fire of the late evening. She sticks her hand in a pocket and it closes around the medallion that the professor had bequeathed her. She draws it out and steps away from the others quietly, and then softly incants the words to bring up her arcane sight. She studies it for magical auras.

Spellcraft (if appropriate): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12

Feeling a shiver run up and down her spine, Alana begins breathing again. She cracks open the lantern to let a small amount of light out, since the Lady Soldavaso made enough noise that stealth may be a lost cause.

"Maybe we should get out of here?" she whispers under her breath.

It's a simple matter to close the hood on her bullseye lantern, but her torch is a trickier matter. She looks around quickly in the crypt, then stuffs it in the back of an alcove.

Stealth: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12

I get the impression that it's beyond me, but if a 27 does it, then I could pull it off.

Alana rolls her shoulders and flexes her fingers, prepping herself for another go at it. Several minutes go by as she attacks the lock in every way she knows how, hoping to find the triggering mechanism.

You could always use this avatar. It might be a little too androgynous for you, though.

"There was that other mausoleum I noticed. You know; the one that had that symbol of a scarab with an eye in it? We could check that out before we go back," Alana says, her defeat by the lock having her somewhat subdued.

A second turns into a minute, and then turns into several. Finally, she lets out a groan of frustration and kicks at the wall in a decidedly unladylike gesture. "What in all the hells!" she swears.

"I don't know," she says, shaking her head. "I don't know. It's not a normal lock, that's for sure." Alana folds her arms, frustrated.

Alana lets out a low whistle when she finds the seams that reveals a door. Even though the others surmise that they may be in the wrong tomb, her curiosity is piqued. "This might not be the same one the professor visited, but I think we've found something anyway. This'll only take a second."

She pulls out her tools and begins to work the small hole, hoping to find the triggering mechanism.

Disable Device: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21

Alana plays the cone of light from her lantern over the vault, chewing on her lip in thought. She sets the lantern on the floor, and pulls out a torch from her backpack. Taking a moment to light it, she passes the torch to her left hand and steps forward with her rapier in her right.

"I wonder where all the skulls went?" she muses out loud. "Hopefully, they're decorating someone's desk with a candle in them, and not something more sinister."

She steps forward cautiously, inspecting the floor and walls as she approaches the altar.

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24

An eager smile blooms on Alana's face when the lid reveals the steps leading down. Hoisting the lantern over her head, she takes the opportunity Arthorius gives to jump in front. She shines the beam of light down into the passage, draws her rapier, and begins stepping softly down the stairs.

Alana glances around to make sure they're all still alone in the graveyard while she holds her lantern up to make sure Ishara has enough light.

"I could check it for traps first, but hopefully since it's a weapons cache, there won't be any," she offers when Ishara begins pushing on the tomb's lid.

Knowledge (local): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24 Woot!
Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15
Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 = 19

I just wanted to open the book. You went and tried to actually read. That's what gets you into trouble.

Despite the gloomy and unpleasant weather, Alana actually appears in good spirits. "Lovely night for a bit of grave robbing, isn't it?" she chirps, then digs into her pack and produces a bullseye lantern.

Rather than try to light a fire in the storm, she says a word of magic and touches the wick inside the lamp, which begins to glow with the brightness of a torch. She closes up the lantern quickly except for one end, creating a focused beam of light that she points away from town.

"Right, Lady Soldavaso, the professor's journal said it was in a crypt. That's good, so we don't have to worry about digging anything up. I agree we should start with the oldest crypts and work our way out. Probably along the paths, since it's a cache of weapons -- they're going to need to access them more easily."

With those thoughts in mind, Alana sets out to examine the crypts and mausoleums that meet those criteria.

Should I roll anything?

Alana arches an eyebrow at Nasrin's warning, then goes back to working on the lock until she finally tosses it aside in frustration.

She wordlessly gathers her belongings and sets out with the others to the graveyard. She pulls her hood over her head and keeps pace with the others. When they reach the gates, she pauses to string her bow as a precaution.

"Hang on," Alana says, when she notices the locked book. She reaches into her pack and pulls out a small kit with a variety of picks and needles. She starts to work on the mechanism. "We think Professor Lorrimor was murdered. This might be important," she explains if anyone seems concerned about her actions.

Disable Device: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24

Ishara reclaims her wickedly sharp scythe from the darkened corner it's rested in all night before casting a critical glance at those gathered. "Who will stay and watch over Kendra, and who will join me in the Restlands?"

Alana flashes a challenging glare to anyone who looks at her like she should stay behind. She sits her half-full goblet down and stands up defiantly, moving to where her things had been stored. "Finding false crypts in graveyards? That's my specialty," she announces while pulling on her boots.

Alana's eyes grow impossibly wide when Nasrin declares her oath. She's partly awed by the gesture, but also rather taken aback at the showiness of the oath.

After a ringing silence, she feels that the mood of the room needs lightened. "Yeah... that's pretty... nice of you."

Alana had listened to the last pages of Professor Lorrimor's journal silently, musing over his actions of his days leading up to his death. A tiny, tiny part of her begrudged him for not working more on her problem, but she had to acknowledge that going after a group of necromancers was a more pressing need. That, and exploring some old, haunted ruins was something after her own heart.

The mysteries contained within the journal sparked her curiosity, rousing her from a deeply morose state into which she had sunk when imagining spending a month in the professor's home with nothing to do but brood.

Since she spoke up, the eyes of the room had turned to her. A spark of interest gleams in her eyes as she continues. "I don't really have any oaths to give, but I agree with Nasrin. The professor's last journals make it clear that he was on to something. It sure doesn't sound like it was some random accident.

She looks over to Kendra. "So, I'll help out, too."

Alana takes a seat in one of the upholstered chairs, drawing her legs underneath her after kicking off her travel boots. She holds her goblet in both hands, sipping lightly, while the will is read.

She watches each recipient named in the will as their section is read, studying their reactions all the while as her own nervousness builds. Fittingly, her name is read last and the words of Professor Lorrimor are nothing but disappointment. She tries to convince herself that she had expected nothing more, but her heart had dared to hope so it was crushed.

She looks at the medallion in her hands after giving Dragomir's sword a jealous look. She turns it back and forth, then stuffs it into her pocket, deciding to study it with her arcane sight at a later time since the councilman continues to read.

When the favor -- and the surprise inheritance of one hundred platinum pieces -- is read, her eyes widen and she looks at Kendra to gauge her reaction.

Finally, when Dragomir pulls out the book with the urgent message scratched in its cover, she hovers over his shoulder to get a look at what may be inside.

Alana's heart leaps when she hears that she's actually named in the Professor's will. Maybe, just maybe, she begins to think, but she reminds herself not to get too excited. It could just as easily be some sort of apology or another lecture to her, leaving her without hope.

Nasrin's words about grief and the passage of time intrude on her thoughts. She listens, hearing an entirely different meaning in them. A heavy feeling of dread settles on her, and she trudges back to the Lorrimor estate reluctantly.

Alana remains silent during Kendra's fierce hug, but is able to muster a smile at Nasrin's compliment. She watches the group of townsfolk disperse, then turns back to the task of bearing the remains of the professor to his final rest.

She decides to stand close to Kendra during the ceremony. She sheds no tears during Father Grimburrow's sermon, nor does she step forward when the aged priest asks for words on the departed. She listens silently during Nasrin's lengthy eulogy and Lady Soldavaso's brief one, but shudders when the wolf howls.

When the silence grows long between speeches, Kendra glances back at her with a pleading look. Alana gives her a helpless expression back. What would I say? she thinks to herself as she feels the urge to speak purely for Kendra's sake. No way am I going to stammer through some half-hearted eulogy. I talked away the mob. That's all you're getting from me, old man.

Unbelievable, Alana thinks as she stares at the arrayed townsfolk in front of the procession. She hefts her corner of the coffin, fully aware that she's not really contributing much to bearing the weight of it. A fleeting notion to join the townsfolk crosses her mind, but she quickly corrects her thinking. She shakes her head at the old bitty's folk saying, then locks eyes with the first man who spoke.

She follows up on Dragomir's speech. "Believe him. I didn't know the Professor long, but he came to Ardeal just a few months ago. He may not have been the nicest man I've ever met, but he saved my life. That's what he did. He saved lives."

She steps away from the coffin briefly. "He was smart. He was wise. What you're doing is the opposite of that. Don't let stupid old sayings dishonor a man deserving of proper rest."

Diplomacy (with assist): 1d20 + 7 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 7 + 2 = 27

Having said her piece, she returns back to her place at the coffin, sullen.

Alana's appetite had fled from her during the introductions, so suddenly the prospect of heading back out to the gravesight had her grabbing a chunk of bread and cheese to take with her.

"Sure," she agrees, grabbing her cloak and throwing it back over her shoulders. "We can leave our packs here, right?" gesturing to her backpack still leaning against the wall in the foyer. She leaves her longbow and quiver of arrows to rest alongside her pack, but her coiled whip and her rapier remain on her hip beneath the cloak.

@Wayward: done.

Alana had wondered if the women in the sitting room were friends of the professor or just friends of Kendra there to support her. But given the somber introductions, she quickly realized it was the former. The professor sure liked the ladies, she observes.

Then two men arrive after her, the first of which far more looking like what Alana had expected of the Professor's acquaintances. Grizzled, older, and somewhat scary. The second seemed like he stepped from a book of adventure tales. Naming himself a 'monster hunter' further cemented that impression in Alana's mind.

She catches sight of the wolf lounging against the noblewoman's chair and smiles at the odd sight. Maybe the Lady Soldavaso will have more to her than just the current fashions to prattle on about, she thinks, having initially assumed the stylishly-dressed woman would be a bore.

Then the Lady speaks to Alana, having recognizing her lineage, family name and -- worse, much, much worse -- knowing of her hated grandfather. Forcing her rising bile down, she puts a pleasant if forced smile on her face. "That is correct, on both counts. It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Soldavaso." Then she turns to the foreign women and bows politely. "A pleasure."

------------

When Kendra asks about pall bearers, she shrugs and can't help but think, those closest to him? Me?

She first glances to the others in the parlor, expecting them to jump at the honor just as Ishara had. "If you need one more, I suppose I could," she ventures.

Alana trudged through town, the last leg of her miserable journey. Traveling through the countryside, out of Ardeal and through the numerous quaint agrarian villages of Canterwall had hardly been enough to distract her from her grim purpose. While there were a few ruins she spotted that sparked her imagination and had her itching to explore, her timetable left her no room for delay. Instead, she had walked and hitched rides with the occasional wagon to complete her journey just barely on time.

Though hardly appearing as an outsider to the country of Ustilav, the villagers still seemed to find her appearance suspect. She heard the muttered whispers of the townsfolk and could only pull her cloak closer to herself and fix her gaze straight ahead as she walked past.

When the Lorrimor estate finally appeared before her, her thoughts were at their blackest. She cursed the old professor for cursing her, cursed him for saving her, and cursed him for dying on her. She rapped on the door -- maybe a little harder than was truly necessary -- and blinked in surprise when she saw the attractive daughter of the professor in the doorway as it opened.

======================

"You're life is far from over," Professor Lorrimor told the sulking girl through the keyhole to her new bedroom. "It might be different than what you've expected -- for a while, at least. But at least it's a life, which is a vast improvement over the alternative."

Alana didn't listen. Didn't want to listen. But she heard him nonetheless as he continued reaching out to her. She had locked herself in her room and refused to speak to anyone. Especially him.

"Well. I've done what I can here. I'm afraid I must leave," came the muffled voice of the Professor. "I hope you'll consider my offer, to come visit me in Ravengro. My daughter Kendra is only a few years older than you. I think she could be a good friend." Alana lifted her head up from the fetal position, stirred to a semblance of life by the old man's words that he would be leaving. As much as she hated him for the moment, she didn't really want him to go.

"Please think on what I've said. Your life was won, not lost. Alana?" His last words to her were met with nothing but silence.

========================

Alana's breath catches as she stands in the doorway. Her resentment for the professor dissipates as she sees the remnants of the tears on Kendra's face. "Uh, hi. I'm... I'm Alana. Alana DeVere."

As the professor's daughter ushers her inside into the parlor, the newcomer glances around at the faces. She smiles briefly to the ladies arrayed in the sitting room as Kendra takes her cloak into another room.

Dropping her pack just outside the door, the girl moves closer to the fireplace to warm herself up. Her finely-tailored clothes are in the central Ustilavic style and still new despite the travel stains. The young woman herself is in the full flower of youth, just out of her girlhood. Although clearly tired from her long journey, her gray eyes are bright and attentive as she inspects the ladies who arrived ahead of her.

Well, it's a light weapon, so it should. ;)

I believe I will take Cleave, unless someone has a better suggestion?

If you're sword and board, how about shield focus? +1 to AC isn't a bad thing, (as we've established).

I will take Fencing Grace. Lingering Performance is nice, but Fencing Grace will give me a nice immediate damage boost. LP next level, for sure!

#4 Considering I qualify for all those "free" feats already and can immediately make use of them, I'm extremely tempted to go with option two.

Option three is less "front loaded," and has more long-term benefits. I can live with either one. Since one of my two starting feats (being human) is Weapon Finesse, either option works to giving me another feat.

I understand if everyone prefers Option 3 and will be completely fine with it. And who knows? Maybe we really can get some use out of those Teamwork feats.

#5 That's fine. I'll only be using a buckler anyway, but it might help other players.

I enjoy the recaps! I know it puts more work on the GM, for sure, but it creates a nice flow to the combat. Plus, it helps having a definitive post so there's less confusion about what's happened.

Since there's six of us, group initiative seems best. I don't know yet if anyone has something dependent on going first (such as sneak attack) but I think that can be dealt with once we settle in.

#1: I'm partial to maps if there's a lot of need for maneuvering and positioning. If you're not as concerned with setting up flanks or spellcasters accidentally catching allies in AoEs, then I'm fine with theater of the mind.

#2: Like most, I've never played with ABP, but I'm interested in it and like the potential for having more interesting items. So I'm willing to give it a try.

Yeah, I'm built to be a trapfinder too. If the group feels that a vanilla bard would be more helpful to the group, I could switch over to that. Though I still don't plan to be a singing-dancing type bard. Probably Perform (comedy) or something like that.

I love the archaeologist bard, but I have to admit they're rather selfish.

Checking in! Excited for the dark twists and turns!

And thanks for the selection!