Kiryl's page

458 posts. Alias of Torvald Torvaldson.

For various reasons the strange paths of fate have brought each of you to the small town of Belric. Located on the western edges of the Arthfell Forest of Andoran, Belric is a quiet town whose economic fate rises and falls with need and price for lumber.

As such, it's not all that much of a town and with the current market price of wood the loggers and assorted crafts work at a steady, determined, unrushed pace that gives off an air of almost indifference.

Sadly for adventurers that means that there isn't much in the way of employ currently, and, out of slight desperation and waning funds, each of you has responded to a posting from a small farm collective on the eastern edge of town. The reward of 10GP a wolf pelt does not sound like much, but it's better than being hungry!

You stand assembled in front of a large barn filled with hay next to a smaller sized pen that looks like it could hold 30-50 head of sheep. Outside of the brutally slain corpses of 2 such beasts, the pen is currently empty and the eastern section of the fencing has been broken into pieces.

The lead farmer, a weathered old hand, that has seen more than his fair share of seasons in the field speaks-Thank you all for coming. We have suffered the depredations from the wolves of the forest from time to time and accept their occasional attacks as part of the price we pay for living so close to the woods. However, never in all my years have I seen wolves break down a fence and make off with an entire herd of sheep.

Any wolves that can pull a caper like this off are going to be more than the most stout farmer is want to deal with. That's where you all come in.

We need you to track down the four-legged villains that did this and eliminate them as a future threat. In addition, any help you could give us in rescuing and returning some of our lost sheep would be much appreciated.

Feel free to look around the pen, but the tracks leading back to the woods are fairly clear. If you have any questions, well I'm here to answer them.

Discuss things here

When you first sent me you character link I thought the name Anglachel rang more than a few bells. The ringing was actually Ancalagon but a quick Google revealed what you had going so naturally I couldn't let you use a SWORD of all things, especially as a worshiper of Torag.

Torag tests the steel of all his followers.

Will Anglachel Gurthang's metal ring true on the Father of Creation's anvil or will he broken and cast back into the forge?

Pick your stats! 25 point pool. No more than one stat at 8 or lower.

Table: Ability Score Costs
Score Points
7 –4
8 –2
9 –1
10 0
11 1
12 2
13 3
14 5
15 7
16 10
17 13
18 17

One of only two non-orc settlements in Belkzen, Trunau is a predominantly human community of sturdy farmers and resolute warriors adrift in a monstrous sea of orcs who would as soon kill them as trade with them. Its people survive through the grace of the gods, the remarkable tenacity and
ingenuity of their leaders, and a simple, soul-deep refusal to be driven from the land of their ancestors. Trunauans know sacrifice in all its forms. Though their lives are far from easy, this band of idealists, scoundrels, and outcasts takes great pride in the independence that comes from being all on their own in hostile territory. For them, every day of the town’s continued existence is an enduring example of civilization’s unconquerable spirit and the prodigious strength of hope.

I didn't think you would get past that first room with no alarm. Why not make it two for two?

Enter if you dare...

Bwuhahahahahaha! Let the festivities begin...

Male Elf Druid/1 AC:20 HP:24/24

All legends spring from small kernels of truth. It is said that before Caldir ascended to the ranks of thieveing greatness that he was a nothing, a nobody. Given how widely his name is known and how many songs are sung about his deeds it is hard to believe that once he may have been just an everyday person. The mundanity of everyday existence is a shackle at the heel of the common man. Sometimes those common men are not so common. Sometimes those common men break the shackle. Sometiems the shackle is picked.

All legends spring form small kernels of truth...

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Male Elf Druid/1 AC:20 HP:24/24

Hear now the story of beginnings, without which we would not be in this place and time.
Before all else there was the Egg of Io and the First Void. When the time came for Io to emerge:

One egg's lower half transformed
And became the earth below,
And its upper half transmuted
And became the sky above;
From the yolk the sun was made,
Light of day to shine upon us;
From the white the moon was formed,
Light of night to gleam above us;
All the colored brighter bits
Rose to be the stars of heaven
And the darker crumbs changed into
Clouds and cloudlets in the sky.

Behold, with his emergence Io found the First Void was no longer but had transformed in to the Shadow Void, and all of existence was defined by the two and reality shuddered at the strain. For like an egg this new reality was fragile and Io looked to give it strength.
And behold, Io found within the new Void a mystery: his equal-Chronepsis. And Io and Chronepsis took each other as mates, to help weave the fabric of reality tighter and stronger. For as the realization of Io's existence flowed into worlds, becoming all things, Chronepsis drew it back into herself balancing beginning with end, creation with destruction, light with dark.
Io created his first child alone and Vorel was born, small and simple-minded but perfect of scale and form; and Io was pleased. When seeing Io's creation Chronepsis complained and said, "Why have you made Vorel of your own mind and will. Does not our union hold all things together, each needing the other? So should we not make our children together and thus strengthen the harmony of creation?"
Io heard the wisdom of Chronepsis' words and together they created a pair of children; male and female they created them: Bahamut and Tiamat were their names. Intended to grow up and mate, producing children that combined the best traits of each. Instead, the two were immediate rivals, yet Io and Chronepsis would not choose a favorite between them.
After many failed schemes to make herself look better and Bahamut worse, Tiamat hatched a diabolical plan inspired by the words of Chronepsis: she slew her sibling Vorel and framed Bahamut for the awful deed. Io, however, carefully sought out the truth, and sorrowfully banished his daughter Tiamat from his presence. Tiamat turned utterly to hatred and Evil, while her brother Bahamut, ever her rival, turned to Good in order to oppose her. So it was that Io lost three of his children: the first to death, the second to Evil, and the last to Good.
In his sorrow Io confronted Chronepsis about her involvement in the death of his son Vorel. Chronepsis laughed and said, "Why now do you lament Io? For can you not see that again the balance of creation is restored by the death of your misbegotten son Vorel?" Furious at her admission Io sank his teeth in to Chronepsis' side and she in turn sank her teeth in to his. From the blood that fell from their bodies sprang all the other gods of the cosmos-evil from Chronepsis and good from Io; and to this day neither relents of their hold on the other.