Caleb Derekson's page

Knock

"Looks like we're doing this the hard way..." Caleb mutters.

Initiative with 11 DEX: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (3) + 0 = 3

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8

I was born ready!

Caleb merely sighs and readies his battleaxe. "I knew I should have left coins at Pharasma's shrine..."

Thank you for selecting me! I'll get to fixing on my skills and my backstory ASAP, as well as for the Skype thingy.

Here is the majority of my stuff. The site accidentally deleted my skills, so I'm still working on that. I will post a condensed version soon, in addition to my character's background.

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Caleb Derekson
Male human Fighter 3
NG Medium Humanoid (Human)

I'm bringing Caleb Derekson, Lv. 3 Fighter (Two-Handed) over to the party. I'll revamp his stats to fit with your prerequisites and shoot them back into the thread within the hour.

Have fun!

*Starts singing*

"Arabian nights~!"

I'll take care of my skill ranks IRL on a char sheet for the sake of not squinting into a screen for too long.

Also, do we need to draw traits specifically from the LoF's Player's Guide?

Yes please! I'm submitting Caleb Derkeson, a Fighter with the {Two-Handed} archetype.

I'm "new" to the boards in that I've only started seriously getting into PBP in March/April, but IRL, I'm the president of my school's RPG club. I've been playing D&D for...eh, seven years on tabletops and school desks. Since I'm president, I have to GM most of the IRL games too, so I decided to try the messageboards to see if I could squeeze a PC into a campaign.

The only other PBP my other alias' are in are a "Sword Art Online"-esque campaign and as the Game Master to Rise of the Runelords and Curse of the Crimson Throne, so needless to say, I'm suffering from "GM Syndrome". I haven't PC'd in anything for the longest time, both on site and IRL...sob...

I will finish adjusting Caleb's stats for this campaign by the end of today (Eastern Standard Time). It shouldn't be too hard to go from a 20 pt. buy to a 15 pt. buy.

Congratulations to all that were chosen! I wish you all good luck in kicking those demons back to were they belong!

Caleb downs the rest of his wine in a single gulp before facing the man bemoaning his life. "If you're so damn adamant about hating the lot that fate has cast for you, then change it by the most drastic means possible! Being despondent and nihilistic is only food for the fiends!"

^ Whadya mean by "tripped"? I don't know what's happening but I'm already anxious!

Gotta go head out to my IRL festival for my hometown's birthday! Let's hope that demons don't actually come to ruin the fun! XD

Caleb manages a smile and shakes the hand of Tristan. "Well met. I'm Caleb Derekson, part-time servant and part-time fighter. Now we are strangers no more."

His eyes look over the festivities and he sighs in melancholy. "I suppose you're right in that regard, though. A reminder of what we're all fighting for is what many of those crusaders need to retain a part of themselves as they stare into the Abyss...seldom does a man retain his prior self after war and death."

At Miss Kaopk's question, he says, "You're not selfish in thinking that one person can make all the difference. As long as you can clench your fist in the name of your beliefs and fight for what you think is right, then you are already more than capable of shaking the world to its core. All of us," he gestures, "Wouldn't be here if we didn't believe in the resilience of mortals. It is not us that should be underestimating the demons, but rather that the demons should not be underestimating us. No matter how many times they'll knock us down, I can guarantee you that somewhere in the world, there will always be one to get up from the dirt and continue to fight."

^ You cut that one really close, friend.

A small grin broke across Caleb's face as the scared man frowned into his cup of coffee. "You need something sweet to offset the bitterness of the ground beans, like honey or milk. My mother is the head cook of a noble house that could afford such a foreign drink, and I watched her serve drinks to the lord and lady. I may be a horrible cook myself, but I did pick up a thing or two in-between chores.

"But it is odd," he continues in a somber tone of voice. "This city is so close to the Worldwound, yet instead of marshaling conscripts to war against the demons or praying to the gods for deliverance, they celebrate on this day and throw all their concerns behind them..."

Caleb sighs as he takes a sip of his wine. "I know that I'm not one to judge people I've only just met. If we could all afford to be so carefree...but I wouldn't dare to dream of what price we'd have to pay."

Caleb raises an inquiring eyebrow at the correction. "Indeed? Well, that just goes to show where I spend my coin. I never was a coffee drinker," he explains, "That stuff went directly to my lord's kitchen pantry. My early years were spent drinking milk and cheap tea for my meals and a small glass of beer or wine for Sundays and religious holidays, primarily concerning themselves with Asmodeus," he adds scornfully.

Caleb laughs at Miss Kapok's statement. "Another day of smelling like the road and of adventure, a smell that not many people outside of our profession can tolerate for long. But it is a good smell, nonetheless, and it does have its uses in the wilder places of the world."

He scratches a quick entry on the page with Miss Kapok and her treant's images before signing off for the evening. He puts the journal and the pencil nib back into the pocket of his jacket before signaling to the bartender.

"Bartender!" he shouts over the din, "I'll have a red wine. Miss Kapok will have..." -he glances at the drink in her hands- "Another coffee. And a pint of the purest water for our leafy friend here."

He finishes the last of the beer and slides the tankard to the bartender, along with the coinage to pay for his latest order. Leaning against the bar, he wonders aloud, "Does anyone know where to place bets for the tournament, or if such an establishment exists at all?"

Caleb smile as he removes his leather gloves and offers his hand.

"Caleb Derekson, Miss. And I have no qualms about waiting for you to refresh yourself."

At the talk of witches, he interjects, "I would hardly think that Miss Kapok is a witch given her green companion. Besides, the only witch that everyone, including Kellids and Crusaders, wants to burn around here is...Areelu Vorlesh? I hope I pronounced that correctly, but local legend says that she's the harlot that opened the Worldwound when Aroden croaked and made a pact with the demons that crawled out of the pit. Trust me when I say that the only people that are going to burn are that b!tch and any fool stupid enough to serve the dark powers of the Abyss..."

May the best party be selected!

Caleb turns to the half-elf and responds:

"So it isn't the ingredients as much as it is the owner's magic touch. You've got some talent as a gardener. Oh, do you mind holding still for a second? I need to add your image to your sapling's drawing. For my journal," he explains at any inquiring looks "I record all the interesting sights and people that I met on my travels for the..." -here, he swallows with difficulty as he involuntarily grimaces- "...for the lady I left behind."

The pencil in his hand creaks in protest for the slightest of moments as his grip tightens around the writing utensil. But is passes, and the nib dashes across in quick scratches to quickly render the image of the druid behind the treant.

When Caleb finishes, he says:

"How about I buy you and your plant a drink for making an interesting entry in my journal? It's the least I can do, Miss...?"

Noticing the small crowd gathering around the walking tree, Caleb picks his way towards the intelligent plant. He takes a brief look at his drink to make sure its the same one he's been nursing for a while before whistling in amazement. This one was definitely going in the books.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Oh, my lady...you would have loved to see this for yourself...

He takes out a well-worm journal and begins to sketch a drawing of the treant in a fresh entry of the already-yellowed pages. He approaches for a closer look to more accurately render the shading of the bark and its coloration in the dim light of the shop.

"Excuse me, Master Plant," he addresses the treant in a gruff but polite tone of voice. "Do you mind telling me where your owner is? I've been a gardener all my life, but I can scarcely imagine the quality of the roses I could grow with your meals. I have half a mind to take what she's been feeding you and give it to the gardeners of the Bremley estate!"

He then realizes what he just did. "I'm talking to a plant. Gods, I think that even the one beer was too much for me to handle..."

In response to the ranger's query, Caleb responds:

"You'd be best spending your hard-earned coin on the food and drink, stranger. While its the perfect time to let loose and relax, just take care to be moderate in your consumption. The last thing everyone needs is a mass outbreak of worship to Cayden Cailean in the morning to plead mercy for the hangovers..."

It had been a long day on the road, and a festival was just the perfect place for Caleb to duck down and keep a low profile for a long time. For him, it wasn't a permanent stay, but a mere diversion to vent his frustrations and relax his body. He keeps to the side of the festival, scanning the crowd to make sure that no agents of Thrune or the Infernal Empire are mingling within the crowd. His eyes narrow at Fomiel, who appears to make no qualms about wearing Cheliaxian colors.

Let's hope that the hellspawn's loyalties lie with other parties...for his sake and mine own anger. he thinks darkly.

Caleb makes a polite show of buying a drink and toasting along with the rest of the other adventurers, as well as sampling various meals from the festival.

"Huh. I'll give them credit for their culinary talents, but I haven't seen anyone yet that can beat Meema's cooking."

He spots a crowd of adventurers gathered around a bar and makes his way to watch them souse themselves in Cayden Cailean's holy brew. A grin manages to break out from his usually grim face as he makes bets with passerby as to who will be the first to pass out and who will remain standing.

I can feel the excitement mounting...

And just to clarify, I'm a Fighter (Two-Handed), not a Warpriest.

I'm submitting Caeleb Derekson, a Chaotic Good Male Human Fighter (Two-handed).