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( Aight, here's my submission. The name and core stats were originally for a different AP that petered out very early on. I've made a few modifications to suit this campaign.) Michael Carenae
Background notes:
I'm especially looking forward to exploring the guilt and redemption angle -- normally, Paladins who err against their deity's teachings face serious consequences and "I was being compelled against my will" is at best only partially mitigating circumstance. Yet Iomedae still favors him. "What happened, and how can I make up for it?" is going to be a question never far from his mind... Gameplay notes:
Mechanically, he's a frontline fighter, the kind that doesn't just "hold the line" but anchors it -- strengthening and encouraging the allies he's standing beside. The Divine Defender archetype trades the regular paladin's Mercies for the ability to use a Lay On Hands ability to buff his allies; Warrior of the Holy Light trades in the ability to cast Divine spells for even more ways to buff allies with LOH. Like most Paladins, he's a very good diplomat when he chooses to be, even if he tends to prefer blunt honesty.
Personality/Tropes:
(Warning: TV Tropes Will Ruin Your Life. Follow links at your own peril) Code of honour:Like all Paladins of Iomedae, he lives by Her tenets, or at least generally tries to; some tenets are easier to live by than others, and he's just a bit out of practice when it comes to living as an example to others. Good Is Not Soft: Michael will accept the surrender of a defeated enemy, if it's a sincere and unconditional one. However, an enemy that breaks their parole will not receive another opportunity to try to surrender. Lawful Good does not mean Lawful Stupid. Angelic Beauty: Michael's Aasimar heritage manifests itself in the glow behind his eyes and sleek dark hair. Chronic Hero Syndrome: It kind of goes with the job... Sophisticated As Hell: Celestial speech is usually considered a caress upon the ears of those who hear it, a musical reminder to all beings of good nature that there is a realm of Grace they can aspire to. Michael primarily uses it for swearing when he's in a foul mood or fighting something evil... The Atoner: Michael has no clearer idea what he's done than any of the others, but even the thought that it was probably under duress or mind control does not lessen his sense of guilt. He's a Paladin; he should be held to higher standards... And yet, despite this, Iomedae appears to believe he is still worthy of serving as one of Her champions. This should come as a relief and reassurance. And on some level it does, but at the same time he can't help but worry. After all, without knowing how he's erred, how can he begin to make amends? His faith in Iomedae is unshaken, however -- and clearly, She still has faith in him. So he'll just have to repay that by being the best servant of Iomedae he can possibly be... Appearance:
Imagine, if you will, your idealized image of a Paladin with an angelic heritage flowing through his veins. Let your mind's eye rest on the sculpted muscles moving easily as if the plate armor they're wearing weighs nothing at all; picture the lantern jaw and blue eyes shining as if lit from within, framed by hair that looks like spun gold set alight... ... Now add three-day stubble, a perpetual grumpy scowl and bear in mind that the hair is unkempt, and while the armor is in working order it's seen better (and cleaner) days. That's Michael. Despite his unkempt appearance it's quickly obvious that neither his armor nor his sword are anything other than well maintained, and the Sword and Circle that are Iomedae's symbol is clearly visible on the shield.
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Congrats to those who made the cut. Is there a way to un-dot a thread, btw?
Maxwell, I have to kind of take issue with your implication that just because a Paladin has faith in his or her deity, the basic rightness of their cause and the conviction that good will ultimately triumph, they somehow aren't capable of taking things "seriously". I also suspect you're confusing "serious" and "grimdark", and I hope that's your character speaking rather than you-the-player.
Out of curiosity, Fomiel, how do you expect people to build /up/ a posting history if they're not accepted into games without any? Random chatter on the discussion boards? There's a bit of a chicken-and-egg problem with that approach, and I've seen it in too many MMO 'endgames' to be comfortable with it.
Michael tilts his head at Tallina's question. "None of us would likely be here if we didn't think we couldn't help," he points out. "Some of us fight, others heal..." He favors Novennia with another smile. "And still others ensure those who risk our lives do so with excellent food and drink in our bellies. There's no contribution so small as to be overlooked."
Michael nods. "Only that we act honestly and honorable in whatever we do," he confirms. "Life is short, especially this close to the Worldwound. This country is effectively under siege constantly; without festivals like this to occasionally remind everyone that there is something more to life than the constant threat of demons overrunning everything you hold dear." He lifts his mug towards his fellow Paladin in a vague salute. "As the Lucky Drunk likes to say, 'eat, drink and make merry, for tomorrow we die.'."
Definitely still interested.
Michael stares at the female Aasimar for a moment. "... No, they don't," he eventually replies. "Not unless they're explicitly and actively in league with the demon hordes, and in that case they're killed just like anyone else in that position. Anyone here who earnestly wishes to help defend the Worldwound against the invaders is welcome regardless of race or creed -- and has been for almost as long as the Worldwound has been open."
Michael nods to Gundahar. "Well said, friend. None of us had a choice in how we came into this world; what truly matters is what we choose to do with the beginnings we're given." He pauses a moment to sip his coffee, eyes closing in sensory bliss. "... And let me just add that I'm profoundly grateful for the choices you made in particular, Milady," he finishes with a smile towards Novennia. When the treant comes ambling in Michael stares, as surprised as nearly everyone else, then frowns down at his coffee for a moment as if suspecting it of containing intoxicants before shrugging. "... Well, that's unusual." he manages.
Michael smiles at the woman. "Excellent; I'll have some, then," he replies, then glances at the menu for pricing and what foods are on offer.
To the half-elven woman he replies, "Many of us have been stuck out in the wilds for a long time; you've nothing to worry about. Hopefully the inns will still have rooms for everyone tonight." He sketches a bow. "... Ah, but where are my manners? Michael Carenae, faithful servant of the Inheritor, at your service."
Ah, Kenebres. A chance to find somewhere to wash the dust off his breastplate and - if Michael is lucky and talks fast - possibly even a decent place to sleep, although that's less likely given that he arrived a couple of days into the festivities. Chances are most of the good inns will be full already. Still, the downtime will feel good. Michael wanders down the street, taking in the sights. The tournament might be fascinating, but everyone who's anyone will be there and the last thing he needs today is someone recognizing 'The Coward's Son' and taking offense at his presence. Sure, it's unlikely, but why press his luck? Instead, he follows his nose to a cafe serving what smells like excellent coffee. The armored tiefling standing guard merits a raised eyebrow, but she's not even remotely the most outlandish person she's seen, and he's well aware of the rules -- unless they're outright attacking you, don't smite and reserve judgement until you've had a chance to get their measure. Instead, he just nods in greeting. "Good afternoon, ma'am. Is the coffee here as good as it smells?"
Dotting this for further attention. Rolled up Michael for another WotR campaign that never made it past the first few encounters due to vanishing GM. I still need to run a thorough check of his build against your requirements, but right now it's kind of late so that'll have to wait until tomorrow. Basic concept: Sword and board paladin, Marshal mythic path.
Ah well. Congratulations to those who made the cut.
Hope it's not too late to throw my hat into this particular ring? Michael Carenae, Paladin. Should be good to go.
Ah well. Congratulations to the winners, and I'll see the rest of you next time a recruitment thread opens.
I've got Michael Carenae here, veteran of an earlier game that didn't get past the second or third encounter. It's been a while so I may need to check/adjust his stats to the point buy...
Michael stands facing the dwarf with one hand on his sword and his very best "Today is not a good time to test my patience" scowl. He wants answers, yes, but they won't come at the cost of danger to his allies.
Michael has the grace to look somewhat sheepish. "I didn't bring much in the way of gear to the festival -- I wasn't exactly expecting an attack, after all. My arms and armor are pretty much all I've got."
Michael nods in thanks at Aaliyah before speaking formally in that musical tongue. Celestial:
"For the Dawnflower's mercy, my thanks, lady."
He then fixes Izah with a disapproving glare. "And you're not at all interested in why he seemed to recognize us, or at least our origin? Or why he panicked the moment he did?" He asks. "Perhaps he wound up here the same way we did, only for the horrors to fracture his mind. If so, he deserves our help if we can give it... But if simple compassion doesn't sway you, think of this. The Wardstones have held against the incursions since the First Crusades without faltering -- yet a single one failed catastrophically without warning on the busiest day of the year? I'm not convinced it was an accident or coincidence... And this fellow may have answers to that question. I'd like to hear them."
Michael nods at Elsbeth. "Either he was confused and frightened, and we'll be able to help him and possibly gain an ally... Or he panicked when he saw us for a reason -- and in that case I would dearly love to know what he felt he had to fear from any survivors of the attack." With that, he kneels by Elsbeth to try and help her.
Michael shakes his head. "I haven't the faintest," he replies, then looks at the others.
Kageko looks extremely unhappy at having left an ally behind. "I'll take the other fire and tanglefoot bag; perhaps Milady would make the best use out of these scrolls?"
Michael staggers as the missile hits, bleeding heavily but he doesn't go down. "So be it." he replies as he charges the dwarf, sword drawn.
Ah, okay. From the description it sounded more like he was planning to run away from us.
Michael would normally agree with Elsbeth's sentiments, but something in the Dwarf's panicked exclamation rouses his suspicion. Still... "We wish to talk!" he calls out -- but at the same time he does draw his sword and raise his shield into position just in case the dwarf doesn't feel like talking... In a quick and hopefully softer murmur to the rest of the party he adds,"If it comes to a fight, try to take him alive - he may have answers."
I get the distinct feeling you forgot a word or couple of words in there somewhere because the sentence just doesn't seem structured right as is.
"And would that be a good or a bad thing?" Michael adds. "From what you described, it didn't sound as if their and our ancestors parted company on the best of terms..."
Michael nods at Aravashnial . "These statues along the walls -- I've never seen armor styled quite like it." He describes the designs as well as he can convey. "Some of it looks familiar somehow but I can't place it."
Michael snarls at the Darkmantle trying to chew through his grieves, but his swing is at an awkwardly low angle and goes wide. Celestial: "Inheritor's Wrath burn you, demonspawn!"
Michael whirls on the demon as it latches onto Aaliyah, calling out in that musical language again. Celestial:
"Unhand her, you filth-spawned piece of-" Whatever he had to say is cut short by the second creature attacking him, and he swats it away from his shield before slashing at it with a booming shout.
Celestial: he calls out as his sword slices through a tentacle. "Treacherous wretch!"
Michael keeps his shield at the ready, glaring upward at the demon as if its reluctance to attack is a personal insult to him, muttering in that strangely comforting language again. Celestial: "By the Inheritor's sacred shield, what is that filth-spawned abomination waiting for?"
"Agreed," Michael replies to Anevia. "Unfortunately, we don't have the time.. The best we can do right now is try to remember our path, so that once we make it to the surface we can arrange for an expedition to come back down here..."
At Elsbeth's call Michael turns to look up, already drawing his blade and readying his shield on pure reflex.
"It's also possible it wound up here in much the same manner as we did," Michael points out. "At any rate, once we're done searching the premises we should get moving once more."
Michael sighs. "Ah well, it was worth a shot." he shrugs. "Lady Elsbeth, are you fit to continue?"
"She seems to be faring pretty well so far," Michael points out to Jens, then grimaces. "... Certainly better than most of us in this particular battle," he adds, slightly chagrined. He nods at Elsbeth. "... Or the demon was doing something with the corpse. Although I don't find that a heartening thought either, I admit." He kneels down by the slime trails, trying to determine which way they lead.
Michael manages to keep from coughing long enough to get between Elsbeth and the Dretch. "Fall back, we'll keep it from you!" His lungs are beginning to clear, although he's still coughing too much to wield his weapons effectively.
Michael staggers around, still coughing heavily trying to clear his lungs, but not yielding an inch to the demon.
Correct, for several reasons. 1) Holding your breath while doing little else can be held a while. Holding your breath while going through extreme physical exertion will not last nearly as long. 2) While it says 'stinking cloud' in the name, the description suggests that it doesn't just smell bad, it also inflames the sinuses and stings the eyes.
Michael's righteous tirade is somewhat short-circuited by the noxious stench hanging around the creature, but even coughing and gagging he refuses to back away, moving to the other side from Jens to deny the demon any room to maneuver further. "If we give it room, it'll summon its kin! Don't let up the pressure!"
Michael draws his sword and shouts his rage... Celestial:
"Foul fiend! The Inheritor's wrath will scour you from this world!"
At his words, a bright gold-white flame erupts along the length of his blade and he advances on the monster.
Michael listens to Anevia, then nods. "Fair enough. Then let's be on our way. We'll explore this shrine first; if nothing else, we might find a clue as to when it last visited by adherents, and how they arrived and left." He shoulders his shield again and looks the others over. "Let's go."
Ah, fair enough. It just felt longer from the descriptions. |