"All we wanna do is eat your brains. We're not unreasonable, no one's gonna eat your eyes."
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Anathiel follows once the front line has made it in.
"Torag is a practical god. I suspect that offerings used to defend a community will be considered as well used." He says. He will quietly whisper a pleas for forgiveness as he enters.
Noth having the right kind of magic to help, Anathiel merely watches.
This works for me.
Glad you're back!
I'm sure that Arrius has seen many traumatized people in Kenabres. It seems like Anathiel has put in a lot of work towards this, but was taken by surprise. In the battle he did use negative energy against the flies, but you'll sense no evil from him. -----
Well, that was intense. Askold just poked the Anathiel's supernatural PTSD. Nothing we can't get over in time. This might be a good place for Zeno to jump in with some of the ways they used to calm each other as they recovered, but there's lots of room for everybody to react.
Anathiel looks at Askold, temporarily stunned by those words. He can't help but to begin trembling. His eyes roll back. He speaks in a flat whisper, as if coming from infinitely far away. "You haven't seen It. It stretches back forever in both time and space. It exists to devour everything and turn it into pure seething chaos. He overcomes the trembling by clenching every muscle in his body. Forcing himself away from the void and back to the here and now by sheer willpower. His voice changes from a whisper to a growl of anger and pain. "That thing took part of my soul, so I would prefer that you not be flippant about an ABYSSAL POWER when you haven't stared down it's infinite maw."
"I am Anathiel. Blessed with celestial healing and then cursed by the draining void of Yhidothrus." He looks like somebody who hasn't slept a restful night in years. He will not volunteer his hand. "None have been able to break the curse, so I choose to turn it against evil."
Anathiel calls back to the wounded, "We will be back once we've cleared a safe path out." As the line up with him near the rear, he will introduce his friends. "Zeno, this is Pakk, the researcher I was telling you about. Pakk, this is Zeno. He was taken into the same ritual as I was, though focused to a different power."
Anathiel moves up and to the side, targeting the yellow bug. But he pulls back as Askold runs up.
Anathiel will follow along, ready to deal with any creatures trapped down here with us.
"I can provide a shoulder to help somebody.", he says, looking down and a bit unsure of himself. "I usually defend at range." Pakk and Zeno would know that he's nervous about having to reveal his curse if there's trouble. But he also wouldn't leave anybody down here to face monsters alone in the dark.
Anathiel moves forward, and a bit away from the group. He doesn't want to harm it, but he won't let people die to this. He prepares to unleash his cures at it if it threatens them.
"Let's argue responsibility later." he says in hopes that we can focus on the problem at hand. Does anybody know more about the spider?
Seeing that the lady was being cared for, he'll step up to the elf. "Let me see your wounds, I am a healer."
"I suspect that many a brewmaster is glad that you only brew for recreation," he says as he sips the refreshing ale. As they arrive at the food stall, they see Pemberton at the grill with meat skewers. As he came out for food, he'll gladly trade his coins for fresh hot meat. After but two bites, he sees a familiar chelaxian profile . He steps out into the crowd, past a dwarf and smiles as he exclaims "Zeno?! It's been too long!"
"Yes, it was just an accidental bump." he says, still on the ground. Several in the crowd had their hands on their weapons, but Pakk's arrival seems to have stopped anybody from making any overly hasty actions. "I'm very sorry for my part in this, Ma'am." He knew he had no part in it, but it was easy enough to stroke her ego and assure the people he was no threat. While most people were goodly here, they also knew that they might be called to fight evil at any time. He got up slowly, with the kind of effort an old man might do. Some people visibly relaxed and one offered a welcome hand. There was a loud "Hmmmpf" as the lady stalked of to cause disaster elsewhere. "Well, you seem to be my lucky charm today, Pakk." he says as he looks to see the load of familiar bottles he's carrying. "I should follow you just to stay safe. I predict I'll at least be safe from thirst."
at home before heading out:
He awoke in pain, as he had every morning since the accursed ritual. He took a moment to meditate and focus on the source of life within him. He let the life energy flow into him. While much of it was then drawn off into the void, he kept enough to make the pain recede to a dull ache.
There was some sort of clamor outside and he hoped it would go away as he forced himself out of bed. He unbolted the privy drain, prepared to deal with anything that came out of Kenabres sewers. But today there were no rats or bugs or eldritch abominations. He cleaned off with summoned water and rebolted the drain. He was not nearly as successful in the kitchen. He was out of food. Then he realized what the clamor was and sighed. Most of the locals knew him and no longer reacted to his cursed body. They knew he didn't like a fuss but enjoyed quiet company with kind people. Zeno was one of the few people who understood what it was like, though his curse was being bound to his words and deeds. And Pakk was helping him understand the curse, finding ways to make it a tool and perhaps a weapon against evil. But with the festival, there would be crowds of strangers there would be many who reacted to him. Gasps and stares and the kindness that was more a performance for the public. Every once in a while it was violence. Somebody so wary of taint that they felt it was justified. He would have stayed in, but he needed food. Any time his defenses slipped, it took longer to stave off the void within. With that he slipped off into the crowd. He smelled a cart with savory meat pies. As he was placing his order he was bumped from behind, strong enough to make him fall. He trunred to look and head a screech from an ample matron.
Any preferred formatting for the stat bar?
@Anathiel: I'm currently working on getting Zeno's backstory and really enjoyed your use of the 'stolen fury' ritual trait flavor in yours. I know we had briefly discussed interweaving backstories in the recruitment thread but left off given there wasn't a firm group yet. Now that we are prepping for the game to start it would help to know about how old you imagine your character being now, or how many years ago your cultist run-in took place. I think aasimars age at a similar rate to humans so we are likely within 5-10 years of each other if it was the same ritual. I deliberately left this vague in case somebody had a specific need for a certain timeline in the shared background. Roughly, I'm thinking that he's 18-19 now and he was about 12 when the ritual happened. But I can modify this. I was even thinking about the ritual taking longer in subjective time. We could have aged years during the ritual.
Hmmm... there's this gaping void in my soul that draws life energy down into Yhidothrus. He wants to get rid of it and would gladly be a research subject for that.
Anathiel and Constantine are both Aasimars so it would make sense they might share a common ancestor somewhere in the past. And why wouldn't evil demons seek to kill divine-blooded progeny? Quite possibly related. Since you were attacked in Cheliax, they might have been planning to do the tritual again, but something went wrong. I'm sort of mixing with the Stolen Fury for flavor.
I PMed the DM, but I figured I should let you all know - I'm bowing out. Have a good time, you all. :) Sorry to hear that
There are lots of excuses and opportunities not to make those posts, and I fall to them as often as anyone else. "I don't have time to write what I want to post right now, so I'll get back to it," but before you do others have moved things along far enough it feels awkward to reach that far back. You live your real life and come back some 20 to 27 hours after your last post and find the rest of the group has thrown up 40 wall-of-text posts and you are either overwhelmed about how or where to break in, or you just don't like to do chronomancy posting. Hopefully, we'll find a good balance where we can make sure to get everybody involved. I do hope we can get everybody to put in something substantial at least once a day. I also hope that we can control the "new game zoomies" and not get 40 posts in five hours from three characters. I've been on both sides of this, so I know how hard it can be. But we're talking about it early, and that's always a good sign. I've always found that good ooc communication helps solve problems before they become game ending.
Lots of ideas going around already. So several sections to my post. I look on forge theory as one of many tools. It's appropriate in some groups and situations, and less useful in others. I don't hate it, but I don't venerate it. Gestalt either makes people switch hitters or they double down in a role. When I'm healing, I'll be an arm, but I'll also be a ranged hammer. Especially as my kineticist ability grows. -----
The roleplay element will develop during the game, but we should talk about tactics before we get in a fight so that we live long enough to play the roleplay scenes. -----
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the sad details:
I'm caregiving for both my parents. My father has brain cancer and it's terminal. I do want to keep roleplaying to keep my sanity, but obviously family comes first. I know a lot of people here have faced similar situations and that helps me know I'll make it through this. Thank you for your sympathy and support. ----
And always remember that it's also stressful for the GM's. When you have this many characters it's always a hard choice. You can never fit all of the characters you want to see play this out.
Making characters is half the fun.
Also, I need time to actually write him up so this is officially my final idea; if anyone feels like he’s stepping on their toes, I apologize. He'll probably step on more toes once he gets to wild shape into large forms. ;)
For your next revision, add (Life) to the oracle. Just to clarify that I'll be in a good healer along with the blasty. Obviously we'll have lots of healing, but I expect that we'll need it. The best way to balance gestalt parties is a long adventuring day.
Doh, I'm Pacific Time. On a clear night, I can hear Disneyland's fireworks.
@Anathiel I love the story and the details work for me. The one question I have is about how many years precampaign were you imagining it takes place? I'm pretty easy. I was deliberately vague about the ages to be more flexible.
Damn it, I can't go to the store without more backstory popping up. Well, at least my muse isn't waking me up in the middle of the night. Let's throw Shyka the Many into the story. more backstory!: Only the other sacrifices knew what it was life, and only partially. Each had gone through their own trials. Anathiel kept up with them more than anybody else, but still found it hard to not pull away. Mortals were not made to stare into the void, and even his celestial blood could only go so far. Anathiel despaired. After years of facing this, he went to the cliffs to hurl himself off and end it. As he approached, somebody was already standing there, looking out over the fall. They wore a blue and grey gown. As they turned, their face kept shifting, one to another. Some humanoid, a few not. But their eyes were all the same. It was an eternity, but not one of just void. In their eyes, he saw all of time laid out. He took their hand and felt the robes settle onto his body. For an instant he saw all of time. While he saw the ends of everything, he also saw their beginnings. He saw how everything and everyone is connected and his despair lifted. On top of this he saw his own story, all of the timelines he could take. One of them was stepping off of this cliff, but there were countless others. And then he was alone. The memories of eternity faded. He no longer saw each timeline. But he knew that many timelines existed. And he stepped back. And then he was alone. The memories of eternity faded. He no longer saw each timeline. But he knew that many timelines existed. And he stepped back. The other survivors noticed that something had changed. The darkness was no longer overwhelming him. He had found a measure of balance.
If you are allowing modification of fluff on the campaign trait, then I'd definitely be up for joining in on the ritul if Geometer and Ertkid are okay with that. That was my first choice of fluff, but the mechanics didn't work out so much. Plus I could have been attacked by a demon and brought to the ritual. Expanded backstory below. I've put in a first draft of the ritual for each of us to modify and change. Naturally, its pretty dark, but I'm assuming that people who are looking into this game expect that. You might want to pick a demon lord that connects to your abilities if you are saying that your power comes from the ritual. Spoiler: Anathiel was hailed as he was born. Those touched by celestials were always welcomed in Kenabres. Even as a child, he had the feline face and inner peace that marked him as touched by a leonal. At a young age he showed that he had a healing gift. Even as a child, he was so full of life that it would occasionally everflow and burst forth in a wave. This led to some excited discussions among the various faiths. Each wanted to train the child in their faith. His parents were woodworkers and didn't want to abandon him. But the churches felt that he could become a powerful priest and healer. Starting to learn early would give him and advantage. So they let each of the largest churches have him for one day a week, and they would keep Anathiel on the weekend. But the forces of evil targeted him one day when they ventured forth from the city. Many cultists bolstered by a demon. They killed his parents and took him away to a deep cavern inscribed with wards and runes. There were several other children held captive there, but talking to them brought immediate violence. It was obvious that the guards took pleasure in cruelty. After a few days, they were brought to the ritual chamber. It had several magic glyphs carved on the walls, each calling on a demonic patron and their own domains. A child was chained to each glyph, while the rest were impaled in the center of the room. Their blood flowed down toward each glyph. As the ritual went on, power grew and flowed between each glyph. It seemed to be barely controlled and each of the glyphs seemed to pulse as they tried to absorb more of the foul energy. As the impaled children ran out of all of their blood, more were brought to continue the flow. The foul magics flowed through each of the children chained to the glyphs. Anathiel felt the abyss draining his life force. He saw an infinitely long black worm, and felt himself be swallowed. As he travelled an infinite distance, it took an infinity of aeons. But this time was going backward. It was an infinite void balanced by the infinite well of life he drew on. A sharp slap to his physical body brought him somewhat back to the living. Crusaders were fighting, killing the cultists and demons, trying to free and heal the victims. Even as they failed, the cultists sowed chaos. Anathiel never recovered fully. He was gaunt, with his bones showing through his skin. In idle moments, his eyes focus infinitely far away. Sometimes it takes a moment to return, and those who catch his eyes like this feel like something is draining their very soul. Many shun him now, for the taint of Yhidothrus is as deep a part of him as the primal well of life. But this has only furthered his resolve. He continued his training, outside of the churches. His soul is still aligned toward the light and he intends to help others as he was saved. Or almost saved.
Okay, this one isn't so silly in terms of story, but you have to have a straight man around. Question: can we take a drawback to get an additional trait? Anathiel is obviously an aasimar, but there is an obvious curse dragging him down. He has a lion's mane and feline face, but it's sunken in and his fur is patchy and worn. His limbs are scrawny but wiry. You aren't sure how he stands upright with his hide shirt and backpack. And yet he stands. He is a life oracle and a chaokineticist - he has a wellspring of life, but also contains a black void trying to suck that away.
Anathiel will finish his drink and get up to follow.
Woo hoo! Congratulations! May Aldrèa grow up strong and quick and tough and smart and wise and charming.
"On top of the description, a location and known associates would be helpful," adds Anathiel.
"So, what sort of trouble do you have?" he asks.
"So are there lots of ne'er-do-well's in this town, or is this just where they all drink?" he asks.
As he walks, he notices those that look away, seeing if he recognizes any of them.
"If it's that long of a list, perhaps we should find someplace more comfortable to go over it." offers Anathiel.
"I'm here to find people that have already caused trouble." He pulls out a stack of bounty posters. "Nobody wants them around." He wears no coat, no armor. A single gun rests at his hip, old but serviceable. He rides no horse, but doesn't have a problem keeping up with one. His glance presents no challenge, but doesn't seem cowed.
Looks like a pair of good groups. Thanks and best of luck to those not picked. |