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I have started the Recruitment thread anyone with interest can apply, I am looking for 4-6 players. RP is a must, Imagination is a must, this is for a wild west style Carrion Crown AP, I have created a supplemental players guide to assist with this including at the end of the supplement the original setting description. this is set in a alternate real world old west. so the tech will be some of the same. In case you are wondering no this is not my first PbP. this is a new avatar. I haven't does this in a few years so wanted to restart new.
- Characters are level 1
- starting wealth 350 gp
- All Classes allowed
- NO third party publishing sources allowed!
- All other Paizo books will be allowed
- 2 traits one of which has to be a campaign trait from the carrion crowns players guide or supplemental. You can have a drawback for another feat but must be written into your background the drawbacks are not the normal listed but are curses off the Oracle list. (not 3pp) you only gain any bonuses with the curse if it is shown under the effect. you do not gain any bonuses like the oracle. works as if take the dual cursed oracle second curse.
- 20 point buy with no stat above 18 or below 8
- Recruitment will be based more on RP than class preferences
- We will be using background skills.
- Hit Points max first level, 3/4th all subsequent levels.
- Please pay more attention to your background than your build. I am far more interested in who you are than what you are.
- evil characters will even be considered but only in terms of evil greed, lust, power, etc. not betrayal to your group. your character must be loyal to his friends or cohorts.
- Will be using escalated Fear rules in Horror adventures.
- see supplemental players guide for additional info.
- anyone can
ok I'm doing something different in addition to the following background info in list form, I also want a background story with the person tying in their chosen campaign trait either before or after with the Professor leading a Posse to capture or kill "the Mistwalker" (see below, he rounded up the posse out of people he knew from his adventures or teaching). there are examples of Occupations in the setting and rounding out characters in character creation in the supplemental guide.
1) I'd like 5+ points that capture the concept and story of the character. More are welcome, but no less than five.
2) Two goals that you'd like the character to accomplish in-game.
3) Two secrets, one the PC keeps to himself, and one kept from the PC. I'll come up with a third that both the character and player aren't aware of, in hopes of shocking surprises within the storytelling.
4) 3-5 people that are tied to your PC by blood, love, rivalry, honor, etc. I'd like at least one enemy in a set of three or four, with no more than two for a set of five. PLEASE consider the players reference guide for ideas.
5) Three key memories that define your character as the person they are at the time of submission.
6) Finally, I'd like you to include with your submission a fear or paranoia that causes your character to shiver, cower, or panic.
7) Dawnrunner massacre story.
I placed all the original info on the interest check at the bottom of the Supplemental Players Guide.
1.) supplemental guide
2.) Firearms
3.) pictures of mistwalker and his lieutenants.
Dawnrunner background story rules.-
All of you were a follower of Proffesor Lorrimar before the Dawnrunner Massacre. This is the moment when the professor retired to Ranvargo shortly thereafter; Due to losing almost everyone in Ambush. Only a couple of others survived out of a Posse of almost a hundred to kill the "Mistwalker" a mythical leader of the Reckoners. The reason for the name is that the Mistwalker cannot stand the Dawn and the only way the few escaped was waiting until dawn to leave the Crater. (I am keeping the rest intentionally vague for posts) with only the following info for posting.
1. it happened at Meteor Crater (near flagstaff AZ.)(look it up on the internet.)
2. there was a town at the bottom.
3. Lorrimar had roughly hundred men to capture or kill the Mistwalker.
4. Ambush with hordes of undead pouring over the side so the posse holed up in the town until dawn. there are pictures of the Lieutenants in slides provided. but not names.
5. groups got separated during the attack
6. All the PC's and the Professor were the only survivors. (so make up names of others at your leisure)
Nice opening, I'm glad to see this went to a recruitment thread. Ok I will apply with Sariel. He was created for a D20 modern game, I will alter him for this game.
He will be a Damphir Inqusitor with the archetype 'kinslayer' His backstory: Abandoned as a new born at a catholic church. The nuns assumed he would die so they named him after the saints who's day month and year were being honored the day he was born/abandoned.
However He did not die. He grew up in a catholic orphanage and was taken in by a 'hunter' priest.
I will begin working on the other details soon!
I'm in for sure. Gonna write up a Mexican legacy vigilante, Zorro meets luchador. Very slow day at the office tomorrow, will be done by end of business day.
I'm in.
Here's the basic chassis of my Warpriest. I have a few questions before I'm able to continue.
1) Warpreists are proficiant with their deity's favored weapon. I'm not sure what that would be for a catholic priest. Options that pop to my mind are Improved Unarmed Strike (christ carried no weapons), longsword or bastard sword (sword of the crusades), flail (chain censor), or battle aspergillum (holy water sprinkler). Any thoughts or preferences?
2) The three vows of faith- I know I am going to take a Vow of Chastity and Vow of Obedience, as historic priests did (and some still do). I'm not sure what I should do for the third one. Any suggestions? (I don't want to be a teetotaler. This character needs to be allowed to drink)
@kane-
1)- You can choose any of those favored weapons. based upon on what you feel as a character the only one I wasn't going to allow for anyone is firearms for the favored.
2) maybe a vow of secrecy pertaining to confessions?. , or prayer at a certain time of day? I wasn't rely thing of the vows in terms of the big couple of them, celibacy, drinking, obedience, Poverty, just Vows in terms of what your character feels are the most important aspects of his faith where if he breaks one he would have to repent.
Thanks for the reply. I love the Vow of Secrecy suggestion. It fits perfectly.
I'll have Kane's full background and other stuff ready within the next day or two.
Well the mechanics of my Gravewalker Slayer are in place. Just have to find his past and his story.
I'll go through the guide and give him some meat on the bones.
Wow, good question on the 'deity's favored weapon' Jericho.
So to inquire further, since Inquisitor seems to be ranged weapon focused can we add firearms to their list of weapons?
If not, the 'desperado' trait is available to use one type of firearm. Does that mean the character must be an outlaw or just a desperate or reckless person?
The answer will obviously affect at least a chapter in the life of Sariel.
I wasn't going to allow for anyone is firearms for the favored.
Looks like no, Sariel.
Looks like no, Sariel.I wasn't going to allow for anyone is firearms for the favored.
hhhmmm, I didn't realize that my question was confusing. I guess I may need to clarify.
I was not asking about firearms for a deities 'favored' weapon. I was asking if we could add firearms to the inquisitors weapons list. Or swap out one or several of the archaic ranged weapons on the inquisitors weapons list for a modern firearm.
If not I was then asking about the stipulations on the 'desperado' trait.
I hope this may clear up any confusion.
Dotting for interest, major desire to be a shotgunny-type law man
Here's my submission of James Booker Marshal.
5 Points
- He believes deeply in the law.
- He'll drudge through a stream of bullets to meet his mark.
- Damn proud of his shotgun.
- Bit skittish around corpses, not undead, but corpses.
- Loyal to a fault.
Two Goals
- James would like to graduate into a Texas Ranger
- He'd like to settle a few inner demons.
SECRETS!
- James hid while his posse died(Explained in massacre story)
- He has a son.
Character Ties
- Elaine Marshal(wife/believed widow)
- Rodger Marshal(Brother and enemy)
- Cosgrove(Indebted gambler buddy)
Memories
- His moment of cowardice.
- His strange, if loving, family.
- The professor whom he admired so much.
FEAR
- Corpses: The sight of them makes him break out in a cold sweat.
The Massacre
It was the setting of the sun down in the crater, the horizon blocked off by wave after wave of various forms of undead. James and his small band were hiding off in an old saloon, taking cover behind old tables and the bar. Albert looked to the others with a face full of fear and said, "I don't think we're gonna make it out of this one, but hell if i'm not going to take a few of them with me," to several silent cheers and a waving arm. The door burst open as the first few of the horde poured in. Each being met with a series of bullets and shrapnel. This continued for roughly three minutes or so before a lull appeared in their descent upon the survivors. Three men lay dead near the door where they had swore to hold out and keep their fellows alive.
James' face bled with horror as he ducked behind the bar, slowly crawling into a trapdoor in the cellar and locking it behind him. The next moment offered a second of silence before the thundering of footsteps as scraping talons and dragging limbs drug across the floor with the wails of his abandoned compatriots filling his ears and drowning out the fire in his soul. seconds felt as minutes, and minutes turned to hours while James waited for the sounds to just stop.
Finally! The quiet descended upon the scared man like an anvil from the sky. He removed the latch from the cellar and pushed it open with some effort, as his comrade's bodies had partially piled on top of it. The sight that next filled James' eyes was of pure horror, mangled bodies, all with eyes and tongues torn out, filled the room. Half-stripped of flesh and almost seeming to scream in silence as James emerged, as if the pain they had felt had not left them as they died.
William here, this is the alias for the submission I'm working on.
He will be finished soon...
Here is Digger Chandler's submission, Heraclito Hernandez, AKA Guerrero Diablo! Next comes the crunch. (This got a little wordy but this character is inspiring me.)
Fight for those who cannot fight.
A man of words must be prepared to become a man of action.
Uphold the legacy of Guerrero Diablo.
Show those Anglo barbarians real Aztec power.
Always remember where you came from
Freeing slaves
Setting up a network of agents for good
Well, a major secret is his dual identity, but he will likely end up sharing that with at least some other PCs. So in addition to that I’d say he’s secretly going through a major crisis of faith. The more evil he sees, the more frustrated he is with God.
He has slightly older sister his mother never told him about.
Ties:
Don Antonio, his adoptive father and semi-retired Guerrero Diablo.
Esmerelda, Don Antonio’s niece, his life-long friend and rival.
Moussa Kaba, a native African boy who was the ward of Don Antonio’s great friend, Sir Blythe Kipling (the “Knight of the Jungle”) also dealing with a legacy of heroism.
Adriana, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen and a fine bartender as well.
Foes:
Professor Renacimiento, arch-foe of the Guerrero Diablo, a necromancer and racketeer. The Caraballo brothers become his henchmen, minus the mysteriously late Jose Jr.
Lord Alfred Mungsington, a British ex-pat of dubious royalty and a thirst for Mexican land and women. His daughter Cassandra runs his day-to-day empire.
MEMORY ONE
Heraclito Hernandez was born in a humble village south of the Texas border in Mexico. His father, a zapatero of moderate skill, took ill and died before Heraclito’s birth. His mother was a washwoman who struggled to keep food on the table. Heraclito was hungry, but didn’t know it. He played in the dirt and dreamed of adventure. Things started to change when the rich Spaniard came through town. Don Antonio Santa Cruz Polanco was unlike anyone Heraclito had ever met. Dapper, with a perfectly groomed mustache and a new set of clothes for every day AND every night, each of which cost more than Heraclito and his mother Luba would ever see. The man talked endlessly and used words that sounded queer to the boy. He was fascinated beyond belief.
While Luba washed the Spaniard, Heraclito was overcome with curiosity. He snuck in and went through the man’s pockets, finding a strange golden coin. His eyes bugged and his mind raced. Surely this was nothing compared to the man’s wealth in total! Surely he would never miss it! And would it really be a sin if he could use the shiny coin to feed his family? Face red-hot with a mix of excitement and shame, Heraclito pocketed the coin and slipped out, a world of possibility ahead of him.
Unfortunately, the Caraballo brothers were also ahead of him. Older, larger, meaner, and of course, more numerous. He had taken out the coin to admire it in the moonlight. That, he regretted immediately. “It’s the slut’s son!” the eldest, Jose Jr., called out. The others laughed and spat. Heraclito usually tried to avoid them, but his mind had been focused only on his misbegotten treasure.
“Whatcha got there, son-of-slut?”
“Nothing.” Quick, instinctive, futile.
“Oh, you got something. Did yer mom let Paco put it in her culo again?” Again, peals of laughter.
“Shut up.” The words left Heraclito before he could even think. The brothers stopped, save for Jose III, always slower, who wasn’t done laughing. An elbow from the youngest, Maximillio, always the sharpest, caught him up.
“Did the slutson just TALK BACK?!” Jose Jr said, face a caricature of shock.
“I think so,” Jose III said as Maximillio rolled his eyes.
“Just give us the coin,” Max said, almost sympathetic.
Heraclito usually did his best to avoid the brothers. He’d walk miles out of the way to avoid their likely hangouts. And, on the unfortunate occasions that their paths did cross, he’d acquiesce humbly to avoid another beating ...the last one had worried mama so. But today, something was different. Today, HE was different.
“No,” he said, less flatly than he’d hoped.
This time Jose Jr’s shock was genuine. “So it grows a spine? I’m almost impressed!” But the punch from Jose III came out of nowhere. Heraclito’s face flashed with pain, blood spurting from a broken nose. Blood all over his shirt, which mama had just washed two days ago. He felt hot, angry, scared, humiliated. Before he could decide what to do, Jose III had kicked him in the side, flipping him over, adding nausea and vertigo to his current stew of problems. Instinctively trying to push himself up, his arms collapsed and broken nose crashed into the dirt.
“All right, man, he gets it,” Maximillio said, holding Jose III’s shoulder. The youngest Caraballo knelt down next to Heraclito. “Be smarter than him,” he said to the bloody mess. “Stay down.” He slipped the coin out of Heraclito’s pocket and gawked. “Gold?!”
It was too much. Something burst in Heraclito, something that started in places he didn’t yet know or understand. He forced himself, through the pain, dizziness, dust, through all of it, to Stand. Up.
He saw a flicker of something in Maximillio’s eye. Jose III showed only rage. Jose Jr was actively laughing.
“That. Isn’t. Yours,” he half-sobbed.
“And what are you going to do--” Jose Jr started. He stopped abruptly, mouth still open. Jose III’s eyes widened to a near-inhuman degree. And Maximillio scampered back silently, dropping the coin. Perhaps Father Estevez was right, and all bullies truly are cowards. He had stood his ground and then they were running. He had won!
“It’s not yours either,” said an impossibly deep and forceful voice. Heraclito jumped in spite of himself. Directly behind him was some sort of masked demon. “Is it?”
Heraclito had started internally praying as best he could. He knew who this creature was. They called him many names. The Aztec Slayer. El Bandido Rojo. Angel de la Muerte. But one stuck in Heraclito’s mind. Guerrero Diablo. The Devil Warrior.
“N-n-n-n-n-no,” he stammered. He had gone from triumph to terror in no time.
“Honesty. The BEST policy,” the masked man allowed a small smile. “Usually. Well, I don’t suppose that rich ponce will miss one coin, if taken by an honest man in need. The fear subsided as the smile became warmer. “Now get home to your mother, she is ...most likely worried about you.” The masked man gave a small salute before he disappeared back into the night.
When he got home he was in an immense amount of trouble, but those memories didn’t linger like the ones before. Heraclito’s life had been changed.
MEMORY TWO
Life had returned to routine soon after that fateful night, and days blended together into months. Mama had insisted Heraclito keep his gold coin for the future. Don Antonio, the rich ponce, had paid her, out of pity most likely, rather handsomely. She got to fix up their shack into a more …”respectable” state, and the coffers rarely were dry. But just as things seemed on the precipice of success (relatively), it all fell apart. Mama fell ill, consumption, he’d later realize. It was all fast, too fast. She died as he held her in the bed she’d just paid off.
Two days later and the rich ponce returned. “Heraclito, my dear boy, when I heard about your dear, late mother, I came at once. Words cannot express my sympathies, but perhaps for once I should become a man of action, not a man of words alone. I have taken care of everything. You are to come with me and live as my ward. You will want for nothing, for the rest of your life, Heraclito.”
Whenever he thinks back on this moment, Heraclito remembers the fresh, crisp white suit, gleaming in the midday sun, and the smell of his pomade. Never once did he question why this was happening. In later, more cynical years, he would develop some theories, but after all was said and done, Don Antonio was an honorable man, and kept his promise. Since the Don was ...unable to have a child of his own, he treated the dark-skinned Mestizo boy like a son, ensuring he had good education in ...a variety of subject areas.
MEMORY THREE
It was a year and change since Heraclito came to live with Don Antonio in his villa. He’d been attended to by tutors of all varieties: arts and humanities, a dabbling of sciences, and a rigorous physical education including training in all manner of weapons. “A man of words must be prepared to become a man of action!” his adoptive father often said.
One night, Don Antonio took Heraclito aside after a particularly rigorous fencing session. “It is time I told you, my son. It has pained me to keep something from you for so long, but now I see you are ready for the truth.”
‘I already know you’re a homosexual, father. It bothers me not,’ Heraclito thought, and was prepared to say.
“I am ...Guerrero Diablo.”
Heraclito laughed. “Father, your jokes become more ridiculous every day!”
Don Antonio smiled despite himself. “Follow me,” he simply said.
Heraclito obeyed as they descended into the Don’s wine cellar. Heraclito had only been there a few scant times, trying to figure out what bottle no one would ever miss, but never for long or this deep. Eventually, they came upon a secret door. Inside was a room filled with weapons: guns, swords, knives, whips, more. And also ...masks. The masks of Guerrero Diablo. Heraclito gaped. “But ...Guerrero Diablo has been around for centuries!”
“Yes, certainly. Guerrero Diablo never dies! However, men do. My father wore the mask before me, and his before him. Before we Spaniards came to ...well, to conquer your lands, proud Aztecs wore the mask for generations. I think ...I think the mask wants that again. You, my son, will be the next Guerrero Diablo, and truly fight for all those who cannot fight!”
Though years later, he’d never admit it, this memory ends here due to Heraclito fainting on the spot.
Heraclito has an irrational fear of drowning.
Heraclito had met the old Professor Lorrimer a few times while traveling with his father. The two had shared adventures together many times before Heraclito showed up. His memories about the man were a bit vague, but all-in-all he seemed a good man, if perhaps a bit odd. But then, what wasn’t odd about Heraclito’s life these days?
The Professor had sent a letter to Don Antonio asking for “advice” about a situation involving a possibly-undead fiend called “The Mistwalker.” Don Antonio and Heraclito both recognized, coded in the letter, the request was not just for the famed writer Don Antonio, but the Guerrero Diablo as well. Don Antonio placed the letter on the table and had a coughing fit. “This ...this is time, Heraclito. I’m not well enough to be of any help to the Professor ...damn this illness! But I am confident that you are ready. It is time for you to don the mask.”
It seemed Heraclito’s life had been forever hurtling to this moment. He felt an almost physical sense of pride. The trip to Arizona seemed to fly by without detail or meaning. He met the rest of the posse ...some were skeptical of this masked garb, but others had heard the legends of the masked demon fighter. Heraclito had difficulty keeping the names of them all straight ...to be honest, many of them looked like the same grubby gringo with a different hat.
It turns out, it was just as well.
The posse was doomed from the start. Not due to manpower! They had more men than some military battles against a fraction of that many foes. But they were outpowered. A hooded man shot flames through his hands. A metal-faced gunman cut down men with ruthless efficiancy. Necromancers. Barbarians.
A slaughter. They had no chance. Heraclito himself would have been killed, roasted alive, were it not for the quick action of (INSERT OTHER PC). The legacy of Guerrero Diablo snuffed out like that! The survivors were few, and none of them felt any real sense of relief afterwards. Those bastards were still out there. Maybe in their prime, Don Antonio, the Professor, the Knight of the Jungle, and their other peers could have handled them. But those years had passed.
And the troubles were only beginning.
Crunch mostly done in profile. A dilettante from South of the border, son of a wealthy, eccentric writer. But also the masked terror known as Guerrero Diablo! A fast talking fop who spends his nice fighting for those who cannot.
Definitely going to go with half elf Savage Technologist. I envision him as having worked as an Indian scout for the army. Using this image as Insperation.
Looks quite cool, I'll probably submit something.
@sariel- the inquisitor does not have martial weapon Prof so it would not start off with it. we are basically going off this found on the PFSRD-
Commonplace Guns: While still expensive and tricky to wield, early firearms are readily available. Instead of requiring the Exotic Weapon Proficiency feat, all firearms are martial weapons. Early firearms and their ammunition cost 25% of the amounts listed in this book, but advanced firearms and their ammunition are still rare and cost the full price to purchase or craft.
we are a late stage of Commonplace guns. the firearm list link has the firearms that are better than the early but weaker than advanced.
@Critz- your vow does not have to be huge, just RR-able.
(here are some examples)
the priest does not touch dead bodies
must always walk backwards when entering the room
must let someone always enter in a room first if possible
wont use speak with dead on children
no sex
tithe a percentage
obey church leaders
don't use guns
don't eat meat unless he killed it
leave coins on eyelids
vow of cleanliness
vow of not riding horse
Submitting Eb Stryngvos. A NG Investigator (Gravedigger)
1 The dead should stay that way.
2 Every good deal should be brokered over shared whiskey or smoke. Preferably both.
3 People that say you can't learn anything from a book ain't reading the right books.
4 If you're foolish enough to come knocking on someone's door after midnight, expect to be greeted with the end of a barrel.
5 If you can't take the shot without risking the safety of innocents, you don't have a shot.
1 Deal with the Reckoner that killed his wife and younger son.
2 Find someone to take over his work in the graveyard near El Paso so Eb can move out to NYC with his son, James, and be near the grandkids.
Kept from others: Eb woke up one night to the sound of an animal digging around in the graveyard — it had knocked over some tools that had been leaning against his shack. It wasn't until after he had shot and killed the animal in the dark that he got his lantern and discovered that it was a small boy that had snuck off to plant flowers at one of the graves. This is Eb’s main reason to drink.
Kept from self: The spirit that possesses Eb’s hand was not sent by God but, by the Native American deity, Coyote.
1Eb’s son, James, sent word about ten years ago from New York City saying that he was engaged and would not be returning to El Paso. He still writes every few months, though Eb rarely writes back.
2Parkins Greene is one of the few people in El Paso that Eb considers a friend and can often be seen sharing a bottle of whiskey with him.
3Tenskwatawa is Chief of the nearby tribe that Eb often trades with. “Tens” is responsible for Eb’s knowledge of alchemy and use of extracts, though he shakes his head at Eb’s “white man ways” of writing his formulae.
4Harold Powell is the father of the boy Eb killed and while everyone else accepts the notion that the boy got lost or killed somewhere in the night desert, Powell suspects Eb knows more and is constantly at odds with Eb in order to get a confession.
5*Two of the Mistwalker’s goons came skulking around Eb’s home in El Paso. They overpowered Eb and his oldest son James. Eb and James were tied up while the villains made sport of killing Eb’s wife, Elizabeth, and their younger son, Connor. When Eb and James were finally able to get free, they killed one of the murderers but, the second managed to get away. *I left out names on purpose.*
1Elizabeth Marie Bell standing there holding a bouquet of wildflowers, tears in her eyes as she repeated what the Padre said. She wore a simple green, cotton dress that hid the slight bump of her belly. The wind tugged at the strands of her cherry blonde hair that had come loose from her braid. It took every ounce of will to stand so close to her and not be allowed to touch her until the Padre said he could. The smell of the day's earlier rain mingled with that soft, sweet scent she wore. And as the sun set below the mountains, and long after the handful of guests had gone home, Mr. And Mrs. Stryngvos danced under the stars.
2The Natives revere their ancestors and it was Tens that first bade Eb to watch over graves through the night. “These spirits are restless. White men bury the dead and soon forget,” Tens had told Eb. Even then, when Eb had only 25 years old, Tens already claimed to have lived a white man's life twice over. Around midnight, Jonathan Pritchard decided that he was done with being dead and climbed out of his four-day old grave. Not knowing what else to do, a panicked Eb snatched up a rusted shovel and began swinging at Pritchard's head. Tens laughed the entire time and when Eb was done, the two shared a calumet. “Now you see why those who have come before must be cared for…”
3Eb’s arms were beginning to ache under the weight of his shotgun. He could see the sweat trickling down the cheater’s neck. At this range, the cheater would be lucky to die before he got the ground. The problem was, Luanne had been unlucky enough to be walking a tray of drinks by when the cheater had been caught slipping cards out of his sleeve. “Look, son, ain't no one gonna let you walk outta here with money you done cheated them out of. Just return the money and we can all walk away from this having learned a valuable lesson,” Eb tried to keep his voice calm as he spoke. “Ta hell with that!” One of the other gamblers shouted and let his iron punctuate his sentence. Before Eb could react, the cheater stumbled back, clutching at his side where the bullet had gone straight through. Luanne slipped from the cheater's grasp to the ground, a crimson rose blooming in the middle of her stomach.
“Afraid you may become one of the undead?”
“Worse... I'm scared I may like it.”
— Exchange between Eb and Parkins Greene
”I am too damned old to be out chasing after boogeymen,” Eb passed the bottle back to the younger man. ”If’n I were a smarter man I'd leave the Reckoners to you young fellers.”
The younger man, tall and slight of frame — probably had Injin blood somewhere — gripped the bottle by it's neck, ”Sumuna others would agree with ya.” He took a swig and winced, though far less than he had an hour ago, ”Not me. My family's farm is east of El Paso, along the Rio, so I know all about 'Ol Eb’ ‘n’ his late night seances.”
Christ, will that rumor never die? Eb thought as he gestured for the bottle.
”I knew it was you a’soon as I saw that shiny shovel and that pipe. Is it true that ya use that shovel to dig up the dead 'n’ share your pipe with 'em to convince 'em to reveal where they stashed any riches?”
Eb nearly choked on the whiskey, ”Well, ya got me kid. That's a new one.” Eb scratched at the stubble on his cheek and sighed, ”No, son, that's not true…” Eb trailed off and took one last swig from the bottle before moving as if to stand.
The younger man struggled to get to his feet, gave up, and lay down, resting on one elbow, ”If you don't do seances, why'd the Professor bring you along?”
Eb settled back in next to the fire, ”I once saved the Professor's life.”
He meant to leave it at that but, the younger man’s eyes begged for more details. Eb sighed, ”I was doing some fishing down by the Rio. And all of a sudden I hear this hollerin’ comin’ from behind me, up on the bank. So, I snatch up my gun and climb up the bank to get a better look. And i see the Professor haulin’ ass through the shrubs straight at me. Behind him is the biggest gotdamn bear I've ever seen. The first thing I think is 'Why in the hell is a bear way out here along the Rio?’ Then I notice that this bear has bony plates sticking out of its first. As well as about half a dozen arrows and a hatchet.” Eb paused to let the image sink in, ”I had half a mind to dip right back down below the bank and let whatever was gonna happen happen but, the Professor and I locked eyes. 'Well s*%~,’ I think and climbed up all the way. 'Over here!’ I shouted and I fired a round off into the air, hopin’ it might scare the beast off. Instead, the thing just roared and came crashing straight my way. So, I popped the empty shell out and fumble in my pocket for another one. I'm diggin’ in my pocket all the while this abomination is intent on rippin’ me to shreds. I probably would've been a bit faster but, you know,” Eb shook the nearly empty bottle and stared off into the flames.
The younger man sat up on both elbows now. The story sobering him a bit, ”So? Did it get you?”
Eb blinked slowly at the younger man, ”...no….it didn't get me. But, I'd be lying if I said I took it down with one shot. My dumbass loaded with scattershot and only peppered the things hide. But at that point it was far too close to ask loading again, so, I tossed the gun aside and grabbed the only other thing on hand — this here shovel. I waited until the thing was right on top of me and I swung at its big, bloody head. Either I got lucky or all those arrows and such had hurt it enough for me to finish it off. The Professor was thankful, of course, and when I got the word that he was rounding up a group to come after the Reckoners….well, let's just say I need to have words with one of them boys.”
Eb sat there staring at his right hand and ignoring the questions that followed his tale. He had left out the part where he had been unable to find any shotgun shells in his pockets. How he had almost given up and had resorted to prayer when he felt a twitch in the palm of his right hand. And how he knew God had plucked a shell from his pack and placed it into his hand. He also left out the fact that he had nearly missed with shovel but, his arm had jerked at the last second and connected the blade with the bear's skull.
Somewhere in the night a coyote yipped and Eb’s hand twitched.
Allow me to present Reuben Rosenthal, the rabbi with a rifle, on a roaring rampage of revenge.
Still working on the details, especially the Dawnrunner massacre story, but the background's mostly in place.
Kane is ready to go.
His character details and Dawnrunner story are all in his alias.
Please let me know if anything doesn't fit or needs changing.
Almost done with my gunslinger
This will be my application for a southern officer and gentleman.
(Gunslinger)
I have two concepts atm moment, Living Grimoire Preacher or a Mysterious Stranger Gunslinger. They both have backgrounds but I really like the secret for the Gunslinger...
Judging by what's been submitted, maybe I'll go over the class options again as there don't seem to be many close combat people (why would you when guns and magic?)
Dotting anyway
I’ll post a submission recap with classes submitted tonight
Still working (slowly) on my Half Elf Savage Technologist.
Is this still open for submissions? I've just stumbled upon the thread and it sounds really interesting, I'd love to throw my hat in the ring
It’s open for a little over one more week
Awesome, I'll start working on my character. I'm going with the same concept I posted in the interest check, I'm going to be playing a skinwalker brawler.
@Chapel, I don't know why but that made me laugh way more than it should have
not finished yet. - but here is what I have so far.
Divine-
Doomed Hero- Jericho Kane - human- Warpriest (arsenal)
@doomed hero- could figure out the HP, what culture of human.
Arcane
tonyz - Reuben Rosenthal - Wizard 1 (Spellslinger)
@tonyz- missing massicere
Skilled
Chapel Ty'EL- Ebnum "Ol' Eb" Stryngvos- Investigator (Gravedigger)
Willaim Nightmoon- Dexter Von-Deadlock - Investigator (lamplighter)- not finished-
Fighter-
Helikon- Raphael de Etoil-Mortant- Gunslinger
Lokiel- James Marshal - Gunslinger (gun tank)
@Lokiel- what is your second trait? like the feat choice, and horses name.
Digger Chandler- Heraclito Hernandez- Vigilante- Finished (missing a few small things.)
@Digger- no more languages. only the basic culture, English, and Int mod.
TheoreticallyYours- Dot
Harm's Way- Dot
Critzible- Dot
DBH- Dot
Chobo- Dot
Robert Henry- Dot
-
found a flavor type item-
Parade Armor: (confederate or Union uniform) Most wealthy countries with standing armies have a different uniform for use in showy noncombat situations such as parades, coronation ceremonies, and so on. The appearance of this armor varies by the country of origin and the branch of the military, but still provides some protection in case the soldier needs to fight while in parade dress (for example, the parade armor of the Eagle Knights of Andoran is a blue coat reinforced with light chain, white breeches, and thick blue leather boots). If you’re wearing a country’s parade armor, you gain a +2 circumstance bonus to Diplomacy and Intimidate checks to influence a person from that country.
@Sariel- Does that mean the character must be an outlaw or just a desperate or reckless person? neither it is just the name I chose for the trait-
Thanks for the notes. I added a history section and sorted out the HP discrepancy.
I was not sure if the parade armor was takeable but that would be of course Raphaels armor of choice!
Updated Reuben's story to include the massacre. (He's still not sure how he got out alive; most of the night is a blur in his memory.) I slightly antedated Daniel Barringer's mining attempts at Meteor Crater to set a stage (maybe in this timeline it happened earlier, with H.G. Wells as a British financier?)
Assuming 1879 is the current year, and the massacre at Meteor Crater happened about two years ago, but I can update the timeline if necessary.
As you can see, Lieutenant #3 caught my imagination... the reason he keeps saying "friend" is that he used to be a Quaker. Of course, Reuben could be totally wrong and confused about him. :)
Still finalizing stats and gear. I'm assuming that a battered old Civil War Springfield might qualify for a spellslinger's starting musket (if not, then it's probably an old 1840's model from the New York scrap market).
@Chapel Ty'El - I was reading your background, did you not want to be a survivor of the Massacre? I can work with that if you don't want to be for your character concept, but it was my preferred hook to get people together..
@reuben and Rapheal- the parade armor would only be good to get the skill bonus to someone that would respect it. (which I would let you know.) or towns that heavily lean a direction. it was more for flavor if somone wanted to wear a old uniform. because I will have some encounters with former soldiers, deserters, etc.
@rueben- it can be any firearm your fond of in history. I'm actually hoping that people will drop some knowledge on old west history and civil war stuff throughout the campaign, and the story is good I was planning on using any stuff written by people to flesh out what the lt's really are. (I just chose random pictures that looked cool and hoped that it inspired people.)
I'll use an old Springfield, then. Plenty of them lying around for now. And happy to drop in various elements of history -- one of the nice things about using a slightly altered real world is that so much of the worldbuilding is already done for you ;)
@DarkwingD cool. At first I thought my guy would be weirdly educated, but he's evolving into something where he was trained but not educated, if that makes sense.
@rueben- it can be any firearm your fond of in history. I'm actually hoping that people will drop some knowledge on old west history and civil war stuff throughout the campaign, and the story is good I was planning on using any stuff written by people to flesh out what the lt's really are. (I just chose random pictures that looked cool and hoped that it inspired people.)
That can be a lot of fun, I was wondering if specific firearms would be available.
Your supplemental guide said "start with 350 gp, a base gun is 100 gp (either rifle, revolver, shotgun.) (see starting weapons)" but I didn't find a 'starting weapons' section. Then the 'Firearms' sheet said that a starting pistol had three rounds, so I was a little confused.
I figured we could hammer out those details once accepted. But I would love to start with a Lemat or Remington revolver, Depending on where Sariel hales from.
Speaking of Sariel. I'm having trouble with the inquisitor class build and will probably go paladin.
I have his basic backstory done, but I did have a question. Dhampir are supposed to be 110 to 170 years old. Would you rather I write him that way, having been around since before the revolutionary war, or would you prefer I write him at about 20 to 25 years old?
I have used the inventor of the LeMat as a contact and fellow gunsmith in my backstory. I would love a LeMat, too, but I guess that is too much for a starting revolver.
I have used the inventor of the LeMat as a contact and fellow gunsmith in my backstory. I would love a LeMat, too, but I guess that is too much for a starting revolver.
interestingly since the LeMatt was primarily a cap-and-ball revolver, it would be an outdated weapon by the time were riding together. That should make it easier to acquire :-)
The other question then that arises, is not only the difference in cost between cartridge firing weapons and cap-and-ball weapons, but the difference in cost between the metal cartridges themselves and 'paper cartridges.'
I am curious how the cap and ball and bullet will play out.
I do think that bullet revolvers are just emerging.
And almost everyone starts with a 3 shooter.
Still here! Just flushing out Equipment and Background :P
Here is a link to an article about 22 guns that won the west.. I think it will be useful to the discussion.
Just to be clear, does the "350 gp, starting guns cost 100 gp" mean that classes which start with a gun (like, oh, spellslinger) have to pay for their starting gun, or is the 350 on top of that.