I got a little turned off by the thread being run away with...also there was already a scene going.
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"Hail! I'm Marian Ceville, the greatest swordsman in all of Numeria, my exploits know no bounds! Have no fear newfound friends." Really though Marian Ceville is just a rowdy front line Melee combatant ready for a high tech scrap. I can post more background later if that's necessary but I prefer to develop it over the course of play
Between a relaxed post rate and a non-Golarion setting I'm so down with this game. Here's my submission, a nice straight forward Barbarian for much eye gouging and face smashing. As far as personality and history is concerned I've been wanting to play this character as a wandering son of a root farmer, cursed with a beautiful androgynous face crowned with a mane of flowing blonde hair. Marian Ceville, or just Mary for short, grew up hard and mean, always getting picked on for being a "girly boy" despite being a tough little bastard. The kid developed a serious anger issue, only made worse by his widower father's lack of compassion or interest in Mary's existence. The boy was finally driven away from his quiet farming community when he caught his first love in bed with his closest childhood friend. In a fit of dramatic rage young Mary stole hidss father's plowing horse, riding off nto the hills to become a highwayman.
As Conner's blade bisects the goblin, Marian bursts out laughing. Sheathing his own blade he gives the magus a rough pat on the shoulder, wrapping his arm around him before fetching his horrbily tacky gilded dagger from the outside of the spire. "Well gods be damned, that's what I call the warrior's spirit! Well done, new chum. He takes a deep breath, clutching his arrow wound tightly before lighting a torch. Strolling over to the dead goblin he begins a quick once-over for any loot.
As he is bathed in the warmth of the healing light Marian smirks, taking a deep breath. Raising his sword the barbarian falls into a defensive position.
Aye, let the bastards come to us...
Providing that he can see it, Marian swings his greatsword at the most threatening target, snarling as he tactically retreats towards the entrance of the cavern. "If y'all aren't ! I can't see my own sword!"
Continuing with his trademark "Cut you with my sword until you die" fighting style, Marian swings his blade at the goblin due north of his position, snarling like a rabid mongoose.
Map has been edited.
Marian scoffs at the meager goblin warrior, sprinting towards the cavalier with a crazed bloodlust in his eyes. Drawing his rusted greatsword in a fluid motion he dives into the darkness, swinging wildly.
Edit: Oh wow, Critical threat, rolling to confirm
Marian stares at Drusellia for a few seconds, mouth agape. Tearing his eyes from her pure white hair he accentuates her command with a bloodcurdling roar. He has no fear of horsechoppers and goblin dogs, only a deeply rooted need to prove that he's the toughest goblin of all, a need forged during his long years with the tribe. "Or we're goin' to drink your blood, elf-kisser!" Dropping his tacky dagger to the ground he draws a javelin from his pack, bounding a few steps backwards sneering wickedly at the cavalier, he casts his missile with brutal force.
(Lighting will be an issue, yes?) Marian stoops down low as he toddles up through debris, lighting a torch. Sending just to the left of the inky passageway he draws a wickedly long dagger, complete with a faux jeweled hilt.
Marian watches the dark elf, not that he knows that yet, tromp up to the open doorway, taking a sip from his wineskin. "Kind of the 'look before ya leap' type, ain't she? I can't imagine these thugs leaving the front door wide open with no guard, no dogs, no nothin'...keep on yer toes." He begins trudging through the debris, following after Drusellia. "What's that you say?"
Is there any way I can just use standard array for my attributes? 16, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10.. Or a variant, I'm not a rolled stats guy.
Scratching his beard, Mary leers at Luther "Call me a girl again, clergyman"
Since we are down a controller I might rock A Shardmind Wizard... Expect some kind of controller very soon.
Mary cocks an eyebrow "And what if we can only return with her corpse?"
Marian sparks a bowl in his pipe, drawing on it deeply with a shake of his head he mutters. "Pity, I thought there'd be a hangin'..." He eats a small piece of hard cheese from his belt pouch, smiling at a familiar trio of the colorful barfolk from the night before as he saunters away from the crowd. "Pardon, but could you nice folks point a pilgrim towards the citadel?" Dressed in dark linens, furs, a heavy canvas cloak Marian smells of the outdoors. His plentiful jewelry running the gamut from glamorous to gaudy, each finger sporting a ring, as well as several pendants hanging around his neck, all gleaming of copper, brass, silver and gold. With a sleek auburn beard under a mop of unkempt hair, Mary's soft, feminine facial features draw a contrary to his wide shoulders.
Dotting for interest, are hybrid classes free game?
Sounds like a blasty blast, I've never been able to play a 4th ed game that lasted more than a single session.
Marian chuckles to himself, sipping his last order through the commotion. Having been acquainted with the hellknight order many years ago, he decided to keep his head down this evening, gripping the hilt of his great blade in a lounging position. "That's the best escape route you can come up with?" He mutters to himself.
Marian sat back in the comforting dank of the Tavern, resting his weary legs in a "halfling's loveseat" a wide, squat chair, sitting just a foot off the ground. He happily puffed on his pipe and sipped at a pint, the bitter hoppy beer running down his hairless chin. Engaged in conversation with a few other men, the scent of elf filled his nostrils, he looked around the room, eyeing the Drow and the clergyman curiously.
Background: Marian was never a very happy child, but who was? Born to two unfortunate dirt-merchants the infant boy was given the name of his grandmother (On his father's side, naturally), as it was anticipated that he was going to be born a girl. With a mop of curly blonde hair and a thin, long, rosy cheeked face young Marian was constantly mistook for a young lady, adding to his youthful angst. Around his 10th birthday young Mary's parents were convinced by one of the valley's rangers to sell the boy into his servitude, an arrangement to which they agreed. Swallowing down feelings of abandonment our hero tried to make the most of his new life as a ranger's apprentice. After three long years of stalking, sneaking, hunting, tracking, and so on Mary & his master, Theogrim, were ambushed by a cunning ogre. During the melee Theogrim told Mary to run as fast and far as he could, to leave no trace and hide until daylight. As Mary turned to run he heard the Giant howl with fury, the sound of crunching armor and the cries of his master ringing in his ears. Sprinting through the underbrush Mary came across a boy-sized hole in the ground, reaching far down...he swallowed his fear and slowly slid inside, the crashing sounds of the ogre still not far enough away. Losing his grip on the surface Marian slipped down the muddy tunnel before crashing violently into a dank room. A horrible chattering filled his ears as a bevy of goblins gathered around him. Wiping the muck away from his eyes Mary looked at the balloon-headed buggers with horror, clutching a nearby rock firmly, ready to bash in a few skulls. As the standoff continued a few goblins drew their knives, hissing at the man-child, who was rising to his feet, drawing a torch from his belt and lighting it rapidly with a bit of flint and tinder. The glorious blaze left the goblins in awe, they ran from Marian, scattering about the room in an entranced terror. In a broken common Marian made himself known to the greenskins, declaring himself a powerful sorcerer who has come to teach them the secret of fire, and dog killing, if they help him to slay an ogre...
And so, through the wonders of deus ex machina, Marian fell in with a gang of goblins
"Oh, hello...Would it be inappropriate to enter the fray so late?" Howdy! Gypsymischief here with a submission, crunch finished, working on backstory as we speak. My general concept is a young human barbarian who was tossed into the wide world as a young child and then reared by a tribe of particularly superstitious goblins, after crashing into their warren and a barrel of vile quite humorously, as foretold by a not so ancient prophecy.
That's most unfortunate, better luck in the future, friend. It was a pleasure playing with the lot of you for what little time we were together, perhaps we'll all gather around again.
Mary taps his foot, smoking his pipe. "I'm sure they can keep themselves out of trouble for one afternoon...
Mary follows Ransaq's lead back to the inn, grinning happily as he sets down his armaments, orders a pint, and soaks in the evening glow. After a while he turns to a stranger "Scuse me there, sir (Madame), but I'm from far out of town, you see. Would you mind cluin' me in as to what this week of festivities is for?"
Marian follows behind the captain, packing his pipe. He looks around wondering what the lot of them should do to keep busy while Ransaq has his friendly chat with this young woman. Well, no doubt the museum's tied up for the rest of the day...I suggest a regrouping and a drink before we hunt down more leads, just to get the boys on the same page.
Mary continues his pursuit, but struck by the captain's idea he turns his dour attitude into one of friendly concern. Excuse us, young lady! But you seem to have lost something!
Marian attempts to bolt through the crowd, maintaining a watchful eye on this shrew. He attempts to be subtle about trailing her, unless all sense of cover is already blown. He also subtly casts detect magic, eyeing the woman closely.
"Ah, well, let's get on with it. Right behind ya, Saq." Mary dusts himself off and takes a moment to spit-shine his jewelry, trying to class up a bit before entering the museum. "We should keep our eyes peeled for pieces that seem to be under weak security, or are being displayed near side doors and whatnot'. I'd wager those are prime targets.."
"Aye, I vote to case the museum. Though I'd say that we'd seem like a suspicious lot, poking around that place for a tick and then scurrying off into the alleys. Suppose that more folks than ourselves have caught wind of this heist, I think we oughta watch our backs." Mary reaches for his wallet, peering into the tightly stuffed corduroy bag. "I've got bout' fifty gold to help work this 'Gob' character"
Mary stays silent for the majority of the evening's conversation, much more attentive to his pipe and flute. He fixes a small comfy spot for himself against a wall, buys a round of pints for the party, tips heavily, and retires to bed.
(Unless he's awoken by party members less lazy than himself Mary takes this course of action) Rising from his slumber at some point around 9 o' clock, Marian leisurely changing out of his night gown and packing a fresh bowl into his pipe. He leans out a window of the room casually (assuming it can open), and takes in the sights of sounds of the early morning. After arranging his belongings and packing up he steps out into the common room, in search of breakfast.
Marian sighs, snatching up a piece of grub. He listens intently as the surreal nature of this moment sets in. Well, Cap, if this hunch is strong enough to pull the gang out of retirement...I'm game. Never steered me wrong before
Marian raises an eyebrow high in the air as the group banters back and forth. He takes a long drink from a stray mug, mulling over all that's been said. Eventually he pipes up, fighting down a burp as he rests the tankard back on the table. "Since when do we foil museum heists?" He asks with a mild tone of youthful arrogance "If I might say so, Captain, this seems a little off beat. Is there gold to be won or...medals to earn? Are lives at stake? Or do you just wanna be around for whatever's going down on the 16th?" He shoots a grin at Adalric and Ransaq, fulling supporting this motion of "borrowing" the target.
As Marian quietly marches through the oddly scenic moonlit glen he takes long deep draws on his pipe, pondering what could be so urgent as to reunite the old crew. It had been ages since Sapphire passed, the wounds were just beginning to heal. As the old inn drew nearer with each step the half-elf paused on the lawn, finishing his bowl and adjusting his garments before facing...his brothers, for lack of a better term. He calmly pushes the tavern's heavy door open a bit, unwrapping his long silken scarf, scanning the room for his old companions. Marian's ears immediately perk up as he hears the familiar sound of Dimitrious' warbling voice. Taking a few hurried steps towards the gathering, he grins widely "Ah, evening boys! Started the party without me, I see?"
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