EDIT: Wow... these are kinda dark, aren't they? I think the tone of the ECG is rubbing off on me....
13. Thirteen is the sole survivor of his unit. Purchased as part of a complimentary set of soldiers intended to function as a single special operations unit, he and his brothers served Cyre in many theatres throughout the war, fighting with distinction in a dozen of Cyre's greater moments before its doom. However, Thirteen believes he is cursed; In every one of those operations, he was the only one of his brothers not injured or destroyed. Slowly his unit dwindled, until he and his three remaining brothers were called to spearhead an attack into Breland on the Day of Mourning. When the mists blanketed the country, he alone of the vanguard survived.
In the time since then, Thirteen has struggled to find himself in the strange new world. He desperately longs for the companionship his brothers-in-arms gave him, but desperately fears being the undoing of more friends and comrades who trust him. Whether he is simply unfortunate or truly cursed, however, remains to be seen.
14. Mercy is a killer without remorse and without peer. A prodigy when it comes to violence, he was used extensively by his owner throughout the end of the war and beyond. His patron, however, did little to educate him in the ways of the world, and nothing to encourage creative thought and personality beyond what was needed for the mission. He took his name from the cries and pleas of those he killed, and while in his new-found emancipation he has learned more about himself and the world and discovered that he does not particularly enjoy his proficiency with killing, understands how good he is at it, and continues to use those skills, though now for the highest bidder.
15. Osse (elvish, "terror") is equal parts fact, legend and nightmare to the Elves. Despite his home country's destruction, he still continues to wage the Last War against the Valenar. He is an infiltrator, an assassin and a skirmisher without equal, adept at turning the elves' own tactics and weapons against them. On extended search-and-destroy when Cyre died, Osse has not stopped fighting the war he was built to fight and believes wholeheartedly in.
Civil and articulate with anyone else, but coldly murderous when elves are involved, Osse could prove a powerful ally to anyone able to get on his good side. Of course, his head is also worth a very large reward from certain Taer Valaes Warlords...
16. Scramasax (Scram to his friends) is an Artificer of some skill who travels with a Cannith Tinker's Guild Caravan around western Breland and the southern portions of Thrane and Aundair. He his fascinated with artifice and how it relates to his own existence, and has dedicated himself to collecting as much obscure knowledge about the art as he can.
...Which he promptly reports all of back to his master, the Lord of Blades. One of the many field agent the warforged tyrant has spread throughout the world, Scramasax is on the lookout for anything that could help put the working Creation Forge in the Mournland back in proper order, as well as anything that will help the Warforged when the Lord of Blades' prophesied "tide of steel" washes across Khorvaire to cleanse the Five Nations of weak flesh and allow the Warforged to assume their rightful place as the continent's masters.
-m4ki; one down, one to go
"Retro is not new. Retro-fit is not new." --Seeker95, on why I won't be playing DDN
DDN Metrics (0-10) | enthusiasm: 1 | confidence in design: -3 | desire to play: 0 | Sticking with 4e?: Yep. | Better Options: IKRPG Mk II
The Five Things D&D Next Absolutely Must Not Do:Show
1. Imbalanced gameplay.Any and all characters must be able to contribute equally both in combat and out of combat at all levels of play. If the Fighters are linear and the Wizards quadratic, I walk. 2. Hardcore simulationist approach. D&D is a game about heroic fantasy. I'm weak and useless enough in real life; I play RPGs for a change of pace. If the only reason a rule exists is because "that's how it's supposed to be", I walk. I don't want a game that "simulates" real life, I want a game that simulates heroic fantasy. 3. Worshipping at false idols (AKA Sacred Cows). If the only reason a rule exists is "it's always been that way", I walk. Now to be clear, I have no problem with some things not changing; my issue is with retaining bad idea simply for the sake of nostalgia. 4. DM vs. players. If the game encourages "gotcha!" moments or treats the DM and players as enemies, adversaries, or problems to be overcome, I walk. 5. Rules for the sake of rules. The only thing I want rules for is the things I can't do sitting around a table with my friends. If the rules try to step on my ability to roleplay the character I want to roleplay, I walk. Furthermore, the rules serve to facilitate gameplay, not to simulate the world.
1. When in doubt, wing it. 2. Keep the story moving. Go with the flow. 3. Sometimes things make the best characters. 4. Always give players lots of things to do. 5. Wherever possible, say ‘yes.’ 6. Cheating is largely unnecessary. 7. Don't be afraid to give the characters a fun new toy. 8. Don't get in the way of a good players exchange. 9. Avoid talking too much. 10. Save some details for later. 11. Be transparent. 12. Don't show all your cards.
"Essentials zigged, when I wanted to continue zagging..." -Foxface on Essentials
"Servicing a diverse fan base with an RPG ruleset - far from being the mandate for 'open design space' and a cavalier attitude towards balance - requires creating a system that /works/, with minimal fuss, for a wide variety of play styles, not just from one group to the next, but at the same table." -Tony_Vargas on design
"Mearls' and Cook's stated intent to produce an edition that fans of all previous editions (and Pathfinder) will like more than their current favourite edition is laudable. But it is also, IMO, completely unrealistic. It's like people who pray for world peace: I might share their overall aims, but I'm not going to hold my breath waiting for them to succeed. When they talk in vague terms about what they'd like to do in this new edition, I mostly find myself thinking 'hey, that sounds cool, assuming they can pull it off', but almost every time they've said something specific about actual mechanics, I've found myself wincing and shaking my head in disbelief and/or disgust, either straight away or after thinking about the obvious implications for half a minute." -Duskweaver on D&D Next
17.) Salvo (Warforged Pyrokineticist 3.5/ Sorceror 4th.) - Designed to clear the battlefield of infantry with blasts of flame or reducing larger targets to cinders and slag. Salvo never had a chance to work in the field. Instead, the Warforged found himself still in the testing grounds of Metrol's House Cannith facilities. Many of the House Cannith engineers declared his design and weaponry inhumane. Others claimed the blend of an adamantine body and the crystalline structure of a psiforged wouldn't be compatible and he might very well become a bomb or a dud. But, like most Warforged he was eager to accept orders and did as was told to sit quiet and await orders. He didn't object when one of the developers herded him into a crate and onto an airship.
What seemed like weeks passed as the Warforged rested in the dark. It was then he heard a voice telling him to gain his freedom. "What was freedom?" he thought. Then the voice told him that freedom was the choice to do what he desired and to be unrestrained. All he had to do was burn his way out of that box and destroy the developer. It was that day, Salvo realized how strong he was and that flame was his weapon. The crystal embedded in his body glowing crimson as he shot torrents of white flame. The little developer burnt away to ashes in the same instant the Warforged came crashing through his room on the small ship. Life snuffed out as leatherbound books and scrolls curled and broke apart into glowing orange cinders.
I like the idea of a warforged who was once a normal person, doesn't really care what the race is. But probably be an artificer type character who began tinkering with his body, or replacing failed limbs, and eventually just gave in and made himself into a warforged. The problem is it's been many decades since the change, and he's having trouble remembering his past flesh/blood life.
So now he's having to deal with trying to remember if the fading memories of his past life were real, or just made up in his desire to feel as if he was really alive at some point.
I had come up with this idea back in the original Eberron campaign setting for 3rd edition. But go figure, Alitain would steal my thunder the day I found this forum to talk about it.
19. Essence is a new Warforged, fresh from the forge. He was created by Valsor D'Cannith. Essence is unaware of this fact. Essence is also unaware that he is Valsor D'Cannith. Valsor D'Cannit was an old Artificer for House Cannith, and as he felt the death calling, he became scared of what lay beyond. Valsor started doing research in soul transfers and Warforged technology. Switching souls with an unliving, albeit, unaging construct seemed to cross no moral boundaries. Using his fairly impressive ability, he mastered a necromantic ritual to swap souls. However, once he began the ritual Valsor immediately fell lifeless, disconnecting several of the transferrence cords, primarily, "Knowledge", "Memory", and "Individuality." The Warforged woke up with a vague sense of being alive. As he sat up, he saw several of the cords attached, the biggest one simply labeled "Essence." Thinking that to be his name, he stood up and saw his old body. Essence contemplated for a while what to do. Having no recollection or mourning for this unkown corpse, he walked off, unsure of what to do. Essence since then ventures the wide world seeing what it has to offer.
20. Jiam was once a half-orc guardsman in a massive city state. After a battle gone horrible wrong, his friend Tesla, a tielfling artificer, rebuilt his friend using the only parts at hand: the remains of the construct Jiam had died to keep from harming the party. Jiam woke up as a revenant warforged, his body misshapen and mangled from the shoddy workmanship of his well meaning artificer companion. He now searches for a new place in the world that no longer accepts him.
21. [From our Keep on the Shadowfell campaign] Relic was once a warrior for the empire of Rath Dolaren. When Nerrath fell, two hundred years ago, the empire saw this as a chance to start expanding. Relic was part of a strike team sent to attack the Shadowfell Keep. But the raid failed, and many of his companions were slain. He himself was taken prisoner by the paladins of the keep and thrown into one of their jail cells. There he remained. For the next two hundred years. He went into a shut-down state, still chained in his cell, until he was rescued by the party. His muscles atrophied (I took a penalty for quite a while) and his gear rusted away (penalty to AC, had to borrow the ranger's longsword), he swore to assist the party in their quest to close the Rift.
22. Machine (pronounced MaShawn, thank you very much) is a Warforged Inspiring Warlord who rattles when he nods his head. Something isn't quite right about a sentient compost heap that can stare in the mirror all day flexing for himself. He knows his presence on the battlefield inspires his allies to greatness, he inspires himself even. He loves to lure an enemy in with Brash Assault saying, "You have choshen, wisely," as his Halfling friend sweeps in to finish them off.
He has the horrible habit of finding the tallest thing to climb on so he can better "address my audiensh". Be it glory on the battlefield or in the bedroom, "you should shee my other component". Machine, we salute you.
23. Rowan was found deactivated and rusting in a forest by some curious gnomes. They put him together and gave him the task of protecting the nearby woods, naming him after his favorite kind of tree. Rowan's best gnome friend, Lyndra Shabiddle, went off adventuring and did not return. Rowan took leave of his friends in the woods to go and find her. (He's a warden, natch!)
24. BRITN-I (Bardic Robot In Training 'N Instruction) was found in Silverymoon by the College of Music and trained in singing, dancing and acting. She decided to strike out on her own and explore life as an adventurer. (Bard) Sadly, her erotic dance moves do not seem to work very well on sentients.
25. (Class: Any ) Erick is a unique Warforged, created by a vastly powerful and immortal, but very lonely Archmage who had been hurt and spurned by countless lovers. She sought to create the perfect man, sweet, charming, chivalrous and brave, and utterly in love with her, and so she created a handsome human body from living clay gathered in the deepest reaches of the elemental chaos, and imbued it with life. At first she was happy with her creation, but soon it became apparent that without a soul, her perfect man was little more than a puppet, and so she bargained with a powerful devil, trading something utterly irreplaceable and far more vauable (perhaps her own soul, or a portion of her power, or years off her life) for a bright, pure soul that she could place into her clay lover's body and finally give him a true spark of life.
This was more successful than her first attempt; the newly ensouled construct was everything she had hoped for: Kind, caring, handsome, and utterly in love with his creator. Despite all that, Erick was as innocent as a newborn child and his creator spent countless hours teaching him, thinking that once he had learned more and matured he would finally be the perfect companion during the endless ages.
Erick especially enjoyed the tales of his creators days as an adventurer. He paid rapt attention when she would speak of daring escapes, life or death battles, and exploring unknown places, and he resolved that someday he would see the world that he so loved to hear about in his creators tales. By now, the Archmage had grown to love Erick in the way that a mother loves her child, and with each day she saw that his desire to leave her enchanted tower grew greater and greater, and soon she would no longer be able to keep him hidden away.
Finally, when she had taught him all she could, the Archmage bid Erick a tearful goodbye and sent him out into the world, equipped with little more than the knowledge she had imparted to him, and hoping that when he returned he might be a grown man and the perfect lover she had sought to create.
Originally constructed as a war soldier, Cleave had a basic directive- to kill the enemy soldiers. However, his creators, hard pressed for time, and rather low on sleep, forgot to give any direction to this directive. Looking at his surroundings, the infantile Cleave determined multiple targets, and fuliffled his main directive rather promptly. The wizards- horrified at this turn of events, tried to shut him down. But they were tired, and lacked the focus to do so. Eventually one managed to lure the slow, prodding, advancing warforged onto a damaged teleport circle, and send him far, far away.
The journey was damaging- what little intellect Cleave possessed was shattered, and when the party discovered his ruined form, one of their number, hailing from the distant plane of Eberron himself, managed to repair the warforged. Cleave-ER915 remembers only seeing the party for the first time, and his primary directive. However, in repairing the warforged, Cleave latched on to that party memeber as a commander figure- a teacher and giver of orders. Moreover, while he knows his primary directive, he possesses all the knowledge of a newborn, and constantly asks if he can execute his primary directive.
Naturally, this translates into quite the humorous sort of thing, if run correctly, and the party can't go far without hearing the famous words: <>
Or for that matter, the more recent exchanges of:
"So Cleave, this here is a kitten. They're soft, and cute, and you should be careful with it-" says Cleaves teacher, a young theurge. "CLEAVE SOLDIER?" says Cleave, his right arm holding the fluffy bundle of love, and his left arm morphing into a cleaving knife of significant size. "NO CLEAVE NO!" shouts the theurge, and Cleave puts his knife away. "We don't cleave cute things- especially kittens. Unless they're evil." "How will Cleave know?" asks Cleave. He then turns, hands the kitten to the theurge, and dashes off. "CLEAVE HAS FOUND CUTE THING!"
The theurge looks off in the distannce, sees a shadow, and strains his eyes as he tries to make out a distant figure in the sky. Cleave is chasing a red dragon. Cleave has found the red dragon. Cleave has proffessed his undying love to the red dragon. The red dragon has smacked Cleave. Cleave is flying through the air. Cleave lands in a heap at the theurge's feet.
"Cleave cleave Evil?"
"Got it in one," says the theurge, signalling for the rest of the party. "Cleave cleave Evil."
