I would love to be able to submit something soon! Can't wait to go home and start working on something.
Wilhelm von Trahl of the Raptor Corps
Character Sheet Show
Wilhelm von Trahl, level 1
Knight Feature: Shield Finesse
Choose Animal Minion: Animal Master Minion (Hawk)
Dwarf Subrace: Standard Dwarf Racial Traits
Background: Falconer (Perception class skill)
Theme: Animal Master
Languages: Common, Dwarven
FINAL ABILITY SCORES
STARTING ABILITY SCORES
Knight: Shield Finesse
Wilhelm is tall and stocky, traits common to the people of Volberg. He stands just around 6' 4" tall, weighing roughly 200lbs. He has blue eyes and messy, medium-length black hair. He has a light complexion, but is often somewhat tanned from his days spent outdoors on the mostly-unshaded hills of Volberg and there are some visible scars on his face as well.
Across his right eye he has an eyepatch from an unfortunate accident involving a particularly aggressive hawk when he was much younger. His typical attire consists of blacks and greys which is the same as most people of Volberg, particularly the Raptor Corps. From his belt always hangs his family's sword - the Eagle's Perch - and on his back he usually carries a shield as well. On his left shoulder or in his left hand you can usually find Eva, Wilhelm's current favorite hawk who accompanies him on most excursions outside the walls of Volberg.
Due to the harsh cold of Fellenor, especially in the foothills of Volberg, Wilhelm gives priority to warmer clothing and armor. He wears a thick layer of insulated armor padding over a brigandine vest, and over the top of all of that he wears his Raptor Corps surcoat of black and grey. His shield bears the symbol of an eagle mid-flight, representing the key advantage of the Corps knights. On his hands he wears thick, leather falconer's gloves so that Eva can perch on his hand if needed, and for footwear he has spiked boots that help with climbing and keeping his footing in hilly terrain.
Wilhelm is a very serious man, the stark opposite of what he was like in his youth. His career, and the nature of his homeland in general, has made him very untrusting of others until he has gotten to know them well, and he is perfectly fine with doing things himself if it means he doesn't have to worry about potential treachery. This, combined with his constant animal companionship, has made it so that he is generally a lone wolf.
Of course, his lone wolf qualities do not mean that he's unsociable or socially awkward. On the contrary, his noble upbringing (though it means very little now) has left him knowing exactly how to act in high society, the proper manners to use with those of greater or lesser birth, and when these formalites matter as opposed to when they don't. He also enjoys spending time with his fellow Corps members, his family and his friends when the time allows for it. Any social situation in which he is able to let his guard down is refreshing to Wilhelm, but they are so few and far between that to many he might come off as distant and overly serious.
Wilhelm has been destined to lead his hometown since birth, but his only real desire and main motivacting factor in life is the safety of the people of Volberg. The power he will gain upon his father's death means nothing to him if he can't use it to protect his people, and he has never been one to care about wealth. In fact, many of the Raptor Corps Falconers are better equipped than he and it wouldn't be easy to pick him out of a lineup as the sole wealthy member.
The primary goal in Wilhelm's life is ending the 'war' with the bandit clans once and for all. The region of Volberg has not know peace since it was initially settled, and his one true desire is to allow the region to experience peace once again. He has yet to figure out exactly how he will accomplish this goal, but part of the reason for his treks east is to try to figure out just what he can do to put an end to the bandit menace.
The region known as Volberg is a harsh and deadly one, but you wouldn't know it by simply passing through. Its rocky peaks are home to countless species of majestic birds, and the rolling hills - though often snowy - are serene and quiet most of the year. For the few months when the snow is melted and the nearby mountain passes are clear, though, the hills of Volberg are engulfed in turmoil as the mountain bandit clans try to claim the land that they've been after for centuries. It is no surprise, then, that the people of Volberg are very hardy individuals, accustomed to war (or at least the hardships that accompany it). Wilhelm von Trahl is no exception.
Wilhelm is the only son of the current Lord of the region, though the title is purely ceremonial now. Years ago the noble titles lost all meaning in Fellenor, and the only real power the few remaining households possess is wealth. In Volberg, however, there is still a tradition of treating the noble von Trahl family as if they ruled by right, and as such Wilhelm grew up like any young noble of the old days would. If he wanted something, he got it - he was waited on hand and foot - and commonfolk bowed to him in courtesy when he passed by. They all thought highly of him despite his lack of accomplishment in life, and he knew it. All of the praise at such a young age made Wilhelm spoiled and selfish, and the thought that he could do anything made him into a 'wild child.'
These traits made it difficult for his father when it came time for Wilhelm to begin learning the ways of his people, namely the traditional pastime of falconry. It was Gunther von Trahl's skill as a falconer that earned him the rights to this land some 200 years prior, and every von Trahl - as well as many other young Volberg children - began learning the trade when they turned 6 years old. Little Wil was not too keen on keeping with the tradition, much prefering to play around the town and cause mischief, so Lord Gustav had to go to great lengths to get the training started.
The first couple years were slow as more time was spent hunting down Wil than on actually teaching him how to handle a bird of prey. Even when he was present for instruction he was a bad student, and often the sessions would end without any real progress being made. This didn't bother Wil at all, he didn't get the point of training birds and wanted nothing to do with the filthy beasts. It wasn't until he was nearly 9 years old that Wilhelm began to see the utility of falconry.
It was in the summer of that year and the bandit clans had already begun making their usual raids on the surrounding areas. This year was different from the last ones, though. The raids were more frequent and their forces seemed to be larger than normal. Every adult in Volberg knew what was coming, but to Wil it was completely unexpected - this was a siege year.
Seeing the falconers in action during the attempted siege was all it took for little Wil to gain respect for the art. He wanted to be like those men defending the city, tough in battle with eyes and ears all over the field. No one could launch a surprise attack on them, he thought. He began to really pay attention to his training, and just in time too - once he turned 10 he'd begin learning combat as well, and discipline was much more important for that than it was for bird-handling.
When combat training began he was paired up with another boy his age, and the two were meant to be sparring partners whenever it came time for practice. The boy's name was Alfonso and, like Wil, he could trace his lineage all the way back to the original settlers of Volberg. His father was a member of the Raptor Corps, and had already been teaching the boy some tricks since he was younger, so when the inexperienced Wil first sparred against him it was very one-sided. This did not leave a good first impression between the two boys; on the one hand, Wil was still a spoiled child despite his newfound respect for his training, and being beaten so easily was a blow to his ego. On the other hand, Alfonso saw Wil as undeserving of the priveleges he'd been granted his whole life. After this defeat Wil saw Alfonso as his rival, and he was determined to best the boy in combat. He devoted his free time to practice, even attempting to do as he saw the other falconers do and incorporate his bird into the fight. No matter what he tried, though, his rival was always his superior.
One day when Wil was 13 years old would change his life forever. It began as any other, and culiminated like usual with a sparring match between the two training partners. However, there was an unusual factor at play for this fight. Wil had been training to use one of his fathers other birds instead of his own, as he figured a different bird might give him the advantage he needed. This bird was much more aggressive than the one he had been using, and Alfonso' hawk did not like the new bird's presence. As their match began the two hawks began quarreling with each other over the boys' heads, and as the more agile avian of Wil's dodged an attack from the other it flew directly at Wil's face and clawed at it with its talons. Wil was left badly wounded with cuts across his face and missing his right eye.
Lord Gustav was furious at the events that took Wil's eye, and had Alfonso's hawk killed for the attack on his son. Alfonso hated to see his own pet killed for something that was clearly Wil's fault, and what was once a one-sided rivalry became a mutual, bitter disdain. Both boys had lost a lot in the fight, and neither would ever forgive the other for what happened to them that day.
Wilhelm eventually recovered from his injuries, though the healing process was long and painful. When he was finally able to begin training again it came with the realization that he'd need to work much harder than he had before - much harder than anyone else, in fact - if he wanted to be like the people he so admired in his youth. Having only one eye was a huge disadvantage, and to overcome it to match or surpass the other falconers would be a challenge. He did not give up with this realization, though, and he pushed forward even harder than he had before.
Roughly three years after he lost his eye, at 16 years old, it was time for him to officially join the Raptor Corps, and his training had paid off. Two years of pushing himself harder than he had ever done before made him one of the most promising new recruits, nearly on par with his rival Alfonso. He was a man now, he'd be fighting for his people like he had dreamed of since he was a child.
As a member of the Raptor Corps he spent a lot of his time away from home, travelling to other parts of Fellenor when the snow came to train with other militias and hone his scouting abilities, then returning home when the snow melted to fend off bandit raids and the occasional siege attempt. Most of this travelling was done alone, and as such he grew accustomed to solitude.
Five years ago, at the age of 27, he was ordered to spend a two-year period as a member of one of the local militias of Fellenor. The reason for this particularly unusual assignment was for Wilhelm, and thus Volberg, to get better acquainted with their fellow countrymen and the regions to the east in case it ever came time that the Raptor Corps would be called to war. He chose the small forest town of Caragane to the south for this stint and though he got to know his unit fairly well during the time, he was not sad when it was over.
It has been three years since he returned to normal Raptor Corps duties, and not much of interest has happened in Volberg in that time. Wilhelm mostly occupied the years in the other southern portions of Fellenor, but recently he has found himself in the vicinty of Caragane again. It is here that he first began to hear the rumors of strange occurences around the Wolfwood, rumors that, if true, do not bode well for the people of the area.
In the westernmost reaches of the Silverlands, at the edge of Fellenor's borders, lie the Demonspine mountains which are inhabited primarily by bandit clans. The bandits of the mountains have long since driven most of society away from their frozen peaks for fear of being pillaged and plundered on a regular basis. For the stubborn men and women of Volberg, however, their home is too precious to abandon to the brutes who would try to claim it.
Volberg is the name of both a region and a settlement, the region being that of some foothills in the northwestern portion of Fellenor's borderlands with the Demonspine mountains. The settlement is a fortified town on the top of one such hill, ruled by the noble von Trahl family. For over two centuries now the von Trahl's, and other peoples of Volberg, have mostly kept out of all the internal conflict surrounding their kingdom, instead focusing primarily on keeping the nearby bandit clans at bay.
All of the importance of the hills to their inhabitants, as well as the reason they've been able to survive so long in the region, can be traced back to the strong tradition of falconry that has existed for generations. The first settlers of Volberg were drawn by the roosts of many different birds of prey that made the hills and peaks their homes, with the particular hill the town now rests on being one of the most heavily populated.
Originally, the pastime of falconry was used mainly for hunting and falconers from Volberg were paid well for their services aiding royal and noble hunts in various parts of the Silverlands. This culminated in one such falconer, a favorite in the court of King Asric Olovern, being granted lordship over the region of Volberg after years of exceptional service to the king. Taking the name von Trahl, after the hill he called his home, the new Lord Gunther von Trahl eventually returned to the region (now his own realm) and began gathering up the other falconers at their hilltop homesteads to begin construction of a proper settlement. Most answered the call, and within a few years there was a small-but-growing village consisting mostly of those skilled in the art of falconry.
It wasn't long before Gunther realized that being granted the land was less of a blessing than he initially thought. When Volberg was only inhabited by some falconer familes, living scattered throughout the hills and possesing little wealth to speak of, the area was mostly peaceful and free of the presense of the Demonspine bandits. Once the town of Volberg began to grow, though, it slowly started attracting the attention of the nearby bandit clans. Small raids became increasingly more common over the years, and within a decade there were rumors beginning to spread of a large attack being organized by one of the more ruthless clans, with the intent to overrun and capture the city and convert it into a new headquarters. Many residents believed such an attempt would be futile, given the rough terrain and their elevation advantage in the event of a siege, so the rumors were mostly ignored, even scoffed at in some cases.
As fate would have it the rumors turned out to be true, but fortunately for the Volbergers the attack was spotted early by multiple different birds from town. The birds, left on their own to fly around the hills while not out on a hunt, spotted the bandit clan coming in their bear-skin attire and, mistaking the men for actual bears, returned to their masters and indicated the sighting. Their masters were at the same time taken aback by the discovery of the bandit movement, as well as thrilled at the notion that they could use their hunting birds for scouting enemy movement as well. They began sending the birds back out specifically for scouting purposes, and with the information they gathered were able to set up defenses. Though lacking any formal combat training, the citizens of Volberg all mustered in the town and managed to fend of the unorganized invaders.
The victory was only temporarily sweet. They managed to protect their young settlement, but the attack was a wake-up call to the von Trahl's - without an army they would not be able to survive long. Only one clan had attacked this time, and they weren't very well organized, but what if they got organized and came in larger numbers? The attack was somewhat of a surprise this time, but even if it wasn't they could expect little help from their countrymen - the entire nation was in the middle of a succession war and everyone but them had long since abandoned the western reaches of the kingdom for the safer, more eastern territory. No, they would be on their own and if they wanted to keep the territory to themselves they'd need to learn to defend themsleves in a more organized manner.
The Volberg Raptor Corps
After the first attempted siege by bandits, the aging Gunther von Trahl ordered the formation of a fighting force to defend Volberg from any future attacks. He had the few men in the city with real combat experience begin regular training sessions with the more able-bodied falconers, with the result being a particularly potent type of soldier that was at once proficient in close combat, a master falconer capable of scouting with birds of prey, and mobile in even the roughest of mountainous terrain.
This new, as-yet unnamed force would be put to the test only 3 years after its initial formation when another bandit clan attempted to take Volberg. This time proved even worse for the bandits, though, as the newly-trained falconers could now not only scout much farther ahead than their enemy, but also had the ability to take the fight to them. The raiding clan was easily routed before they could even reach Volberg, and the citizens rejoiced at the success of their new defenders. Lord von Trahl threw a large feast in their honor, and during a speech at the feast he officially dubbed them the Volberg Raptor Corps after the beasts that enabled their existance.
Centuries later, the Corps is known throughout Fellenor as an elite force in hilly or mountainous terrain, and Falconers of the Corps are widely regarded as the best scouts in the nation. Their numbers are never very large due to the consistently small population in Volberg when compared to other parts of Fellenor, and most Raptor Corps members keep to the defense of their homeland, so it is rare to more than one or two east of the Demonspine foothills at a time.
Gustav and Charlotte von Trahl
The parents of Wilhelm von Trahl, and the current Lord and Lady von Trahl. Charlotte was a loving and doting mother, who was partially responsible for little Wilhelm's behavior as a child. Gustav was more strict in raising him, but he didn't go against Charlotte if she wanted to go easy on the boy.
Wilhelm's old sparring partner and bitter rival. Though adults now, with their past far behind them, the two still don't see eye to eye and would prefer to avoid one another if possible. There is always a bit of hostility between the two even in the happiest of circumstances.
Cast-Iron Stomach will be revlavored to be a steadily built-up tolerance to poison from years of ingestion in small doses meant to build up just such a tolerance.
Although not strictly a reflavor, I suppose, I will be using the Animal Master theme to represent my character being a falconer, and thus will only use its features insofar as they relate to using the hawk minion. I won't use the level 5 feature (if we get there), for example, to train anything but new hawks or other birds of prey utilizing the same stats as the hawk, and I won't RP being good at dealing with any other type of animal.
As dwarves and their powers are generally based around the same sort of geography as what a Volberger lives in, most of the rest of the dwarven sturdiness features (like Stand Your Ground) don't really need to be reflavored. Other things, like the dwarf weapon training and related feats, won't get utilized with my build due to my preference for swords so I won't even worry about reflavoring them.
Additionally, if it's alright to do so, I plan to reflavor my plate armor as a brigandine worn underneath a Raptor Corps. surcoat.
If it helps, for potential excursions to Volberg or what have you, I imagine the town of Volberg looking similar to this, though with snow on it most of the time.
Eva (Companion) Show
Hawk - Level 1 Minion Skirmisher
Tiny Natural beast - XP 25
Initiative +5, Perception +6; Darkvision
HP 1; a missed attack never damages a minion
AC: 15 Fort: 10 Reflex: 13 Will: 11
Speed 4, Fly 7
While within 10 squares of the hawk, the hawk's master gains a +4 bonus to Perception checks made to spot creatures.
Skills: Perception +7
Str 8, Con 13, Dex 15, Int 2, Wis 14, Cha 11.
Stat Block Show
Presenting Jacqueline "Jacks" Longstride, arcane polymath.
Pretty much done. I might tweak the powers, but I'm pretty happy with her.
Character Summary Show
====== Created Using Wizards of the Coast D&D Character Builder ======
When the revolution came, Callum Longstride saw the writing on the wall. As treasurer to the king, he could have been swept up, tried and executed with his royal employers, but instead he fled. By turning over whatever power and secrets he might have to the rising new powers of Fellenor, the Longstride family escaped the purge and found a humbler life of relative comfort in Caragane.
The Longstrides lean toward arcane aptitude and keen intellect, valuable traits in any system. Dortham Longstride is now a respected banker and merchant, one of the leading citizens of Caragane, and the fortunes of his three children are regular gossip in the town. Eldest son Ransol has showed great military promise, and continued to serve in the militia since his mandatory enlistment. He has earned the rank of captain, and is expected to take command should the militia go to war. His youngest sister, Emmaline, has just entered the service. She doesn't have her brother's talents, but most expect her to get her two years out of the way and take over the family businesses.
Dortham's first daughter, Jacqueline, may be the most intriguing of all. She is the first of this generation to master the "longstride," a magical knack allowing them to teleport a short distance under stress. Jacks never grew out of the intense curiosity of most children and after her militia duty, she was accepted at the University of Callanar, the capital of Fellenor.
Jacqueline blossomed in the rich intellectual life of Callanar, taking a loaded schedule of courses in a wide variety. History, alchemy, ancient languages, she wanted to learn it all. Dortham could pay the tuition, but when she started racking up large lab and book expenses, he threatened to cut her off. Instead, she started working to make up to difference. Apprenticed to Dremied Caulsen, she learned the myriad crafts of arcane artifice. Locks, clocks, clever little automata, Jacks worked on all of them in her spare hours. She knew little of his clients, but learned quickly not to ask questions, nor learn faces if she was to keep her job.
In her three years at university, Jacqueline never did specialize in a field. Nor did she develop a close relationship with any of her peers. There was that one time after she and Dovid created Clinging Essence successfully after four hours.. but it never went anywhere. When Ransol's letter described the troubles near the Wolfswood, her curiosity got the better of her again. She found it surprisingly easy to pack up her meagre possessions, get a leave of absence from the dean, and give Dremied notice. "Home," she thought, "It's probably nothing. Maybe I'll just take a break."
Jacqueline is a slight woman, not more than 5' tall. She ties her blonde hair back in a braid; she often fiddles with it when she's thinking. While not untidy, she generally looks ragged at the edges. Dark circles under her eyes show the years of late nights and her furrowed brow is a permanent crease on an otherwise youthful face. Her hands are rarely clean, usually stained with phoros powder or nightink or sparkling with brass filings.
Home from university, Jacks has broken out her old militia leathers. She wears a sturdy wool skirt (several years out of fashion in Callanar) because she likes the knot patterns along the hem and she's proud of the deal she haggled in buying it.
On her head or around her neck dangles a pair of goggles, enchanted to help her see in dim light. Her only jewelry is a bracelet, a gift from Dovid, and a brooch she uses on her cloak. The brooch is a curved metal disc about two inches across. A minor enchantment shows a cat's head peering out, as if alive.
Lastly, her pack, stretched by numerous tomes in the past, now somewhat too big for the few things she can truly call her own. She also wears her sword across her back. This too was a gift, from her brother Ransol, perhaps as a joke. She also carries a clever little crossbow, modified in her own workshop for easier loading and some arcane surprises.
Insatiable curiosity drives Jacqueline. Most often, she is nose-down in a book, and she'll only look up if she hears something she doesn't know. Anyone might suffer a steady barrage of questions should he capture her interest. She can be truly irritating if her target lets it go on, but when with a peer, she can display some wit.
When she has nothing to read and cannot find something to do, Jacks falls asleep. She can sleep anywhere, even standing up, and come back to wakefulness in a blink. She developed the habit at university, when she just couldn't find six or eight hours together to get a full rest. She has gotten good at it - she only needs about four hours a night to be well-rested.
Jacqueline is much more interested in things and magic than people, but that doesn't mean she's cut off. She loves her family deeply, and feels a swell of pride whenever she draws her sword, even if she generally uses two hands. A classic middle child, she has always strived to be noticed and is eager to please. Her deep studies of history have kindled in her a desire to be truly legendary, like the Longstrides from ages long past. Her scattered focus comes from a secret fear that she was meant for something great, and she doesn't want to do the wrong thing and miss it. Hence, she tries to do everything.
Created Lore Show
Knacks: Magic runs deep in the Silverlands, sometimes surfacing in certain families and bloodlines, and sometimes just out of the blue. They call them "knacks," these little magic talents that the lucky have. Some can harden their skin like rock, others fade from sight briefly, even breathe fire or frost. The knack takes no training, apparently instinctive, sometimes appearing even in children. The talents don't breed true, appearing for a generation or two, then vanishing for hundreds of years. Nonetheless, a family can definitely pass the chance of a knack down, and certain families are known for their knack.
Callanar: Capital of Fellenor, Callanar is the only big city in the nation. An ancient town, founded at a critical crossing of river and road, Callanar has weathered war and peace thanks to a vibrant and flexible culture. The Old City dates from the years of Thaharnol, a cramped maze of markets, homes and workshops. Melled's Wall separates the New City, and the grand plans of that king to create a modern, cosmopolitan capital. New City has wide avenues, a handful of grand palaces, and the University of Callanar. In the revolution, the New City suffered rioting and mob justice as the monarchy disintegrated.
I think that I setled on the Scout class for Reznik. It fits his flavor much better.
Place reserved for a character.
Also, can we bring in gods from real-world pantheons, or would you prefer not to?
Character Sheet Show
Kithas Swordhand, level 1
Human Power Selection Option: Bonus At-Will Power
Class Feature (Figher Weapon Talent) Selection: One-handed
Languages: Common and Elven
Background: Forest (Perception)
FINAL ABILITY SCORES
STR 18, CON 16, DEX 12, INT 8, WIS 12, CHA 10
STARTING ABILITY SCORES
STR 16, CON 15, DEX 12, INT 8, WIS 10, CHA 10
AC: 18 Fort: 18 Ref: 14 Will: 13
HP: 31 Surges: 12 Surge Value: 7
Athletics 9, Heal 6, Endurance 8, Perception 6
Acrobatics 1, Arcana -1, Bluff 0, Diplomacy 0, Dungeoneering 1, History -1, Insight 1, Nature 1, Intimidate 0, Religion -1, Stealth 1, Streetwise 0, Thievery 1
Basic Attack: Melee Attack
Gladiator Feature: Disrupting Advance (Encounter)
Fighter Attack 1: Comeback Strike (Daily)
Fighter Attack 1: Passing Attack (Encounter)
Fighter Attack 1: Tide of Steel (At-Will)
Fighter Attack1: Cleave (At-Will)
Fighter Attack 1: Reaping Strike (At-Will)
Weapon Training: Heavy Blade Expertise
Vigiliante Reflexes Feat: Improved Defenses
Scale armor X1
Light Shield X1
Adventurer's Kit X1
Kithas came from a poor family before he joined the militia, refugees from one of the many towns that had fallen over the years, moving from Elros to Caragne in the hopes of earning more money than they did back home. Elros was named after a noble that volunteered his men to assist in the rebllion years ago and gave his life along side his men, which made it all the more unfortunate that it fell. When he was nine, he started training in the sword in anticipation of joining the local militia. His father was a swordsmith and proud that his son was interested in his work, even if it was only to swing a sword about. When he turned 16 he enrolled in the local militia. During the last days of his town's existance, scavengers and bandits assaulted the town and wounded his father, a member of the militia there. He saw this as an opportunity to redeem his family and an opportunity to do what he couldn't before. Protect his family.
He spent the required two years in the militia before returning to work with his father in the forge. He learned more about swords training with them and knew exactly what people like the militia wanted, helping his father greatly in his work by putting his knowledge of holding a sword to work in the forge. After a while his family didn't need him working the forge and wanted to expand their business into the nearby area, sending him daily on merchant missions throughout the kingdom. Despite his knowledge of the blade, his knowledge of people wasn't as good as it could be, but he compensated by letting the blades talk for themselves. He held show duels to demonstrate the quality, along with his own skill. He started to be known as a dueling merchant, traveling from town to town to sell and to fight.
After three years rumors of monsters coming from the woods worsened. During his travels he'd heard more and more rumors of the monsters and, although it was good for business, knew that this meant terrible things for his family and for Fellenor. He was worried about his home, and set off on the long treck back home to Caragne.
Kithas wears a cloak over his scale armor most of the time, believing that hiding his body type will help him in battle. He carries a longsword on his back made by his father, favoring the heavier blades to daggers. His short brown hair is covered by the hood of his cloak and his blue eyes have a small shine to them in the light, whether it's hope or just the light remains a mystery, even to his friends.
Kithas has taken his years learning from duels and put it into his personality. He knows that revealing too much too soon leaves no surprises when necessary and is thus reserved and quiet around those he does not know, preferring to let a blade speak for him. He's calm under pressure and determined in the face of defeat, his bravery carrying him through any situation. Although he's a staunch defender of justice, he's not willing to comprimise his own morals for the sake of the law. If he disagrees with something, he does what it takes to do what he thinks is right.
Once he's used to a person he starts to open up, feeling that he's seen enough to know whether or not he's threatened by a person. Despite not being as well educated as others, he's highly philosophical and inquisitive, curious of people and how their view differs from his own. Because of this, he hates no race and tries his hardest to see the light in people, so long as they aren't trying to kill him. This also leaves him somewhat detached from his enemies, seeing the evil as well and wanting to stand as the wall between his foe and his allies. Death doesn't worry him, and he knows that although death is sad, it is natural. He doesn't cry at death, but instead feels it as a challenge, something to overcome and prevent for those around him.
He's a steadfast friend, and you won't find anyone more loyal to who he feels closest to. Even if he does mess up every now and then, he tries his hardest to fix it and hates seeing his friends hurt or saddened.
The mechanical bits are done, now to get on with writing his backstory.
ABILITY SCORES AC: 16 Fort: 12 Ref: 14 Will: 15 TRAINED SKILLS UNTRAINED SKILLS POWERS FEATS ITEMS LANGUAGES If you had told someone who knew Belen at that time that the boy was destined to become the host of a primal spirit, they would’ve laughed in your face. If you had told Belen himself, he would’ve kindly explained to you that the heat was getting to you and you should sit down and have a drink of water. He didn’t want to become adventurer, he wasn’t yet sure what he wanted, but it seemed that everyone else wanted him to take over his father’s business after his mandatory stint in the militia, so he convinced himself that was his greatest desire. When Belen turned 16, he picked up a crossbow, the first weapon he had ever attempted to use in his life. He wanted to learn to fight at least at a basic level before joining the militia, and a crossbow seemed the easiest to learn. Not to mention the fact that it kept him away from the front lines and the bloodshed. Blood made him feel squeamish, especially his own blood. So a crossbow it was, and within a few months Belen could shoot it with a level of accuracy that was decidedly average, much like everything else he did. Except baking, he was actually quite good at that, and at this point looking forward to taking over the shop. Nothing extraordinary happened while Belen was enlisted. At least, nothing extraordinary happened to Belen Traekson. He made pretty good friends with the other members of his unit, deciding to attempt to keep in touch with them after his time was up. Belen got better with his crossbow, though not by much. He was impatient for his two years to end, so that he might finally return home. Finally it was over. Belen was released from duty. He said his goodbyes to the people he had met, and started on his way home, choosing to travel alone so that he might gather his thoughts before seeing his family again. That was, in retrospect, a terrible decision. Or at least, one that filled Belen with deep regret. There was a strange hole near the side of the road. It seemed almost like a well, but a very poorly done one, with rough edges and no convenient ring of stones to keep people from falling in. It was deep, but how deep was impossible to tell. Belen was curious though, so he thought that he might drop a rock down, at see how long it took to hit the bottom. He found a good-sized rock and stood at the edge of the hole to drop it in. As he was about to release it, a sudden gust of wind hit him from behind, unbalancing him. Seeing as it was only a gust of wind, it would not have been difficult for Belen to regain to his balance. But he was holding a rather heavy rock, one that was just heavy enough to drag him over the edge of the pit. Belen had heard of these caverns before. Once, when he was a child, his mother had told hima story about a brave little boy who got lost in a series of caverns called the Depths. The story was completely made up, but the caverns were very real. And a grown man was very unlikely to survive a trip into them, much less a mere boy. Belen thought himself dead for sure if he couldn’t get out. He had no better luck summoning help the next morning. There was only one course of action to take from here: follow the tunnel leading out of this cavern. So that was what Belen did. But it didn’t take him back to the surface. It took him deeper. So did the tunnels he followed the next day. And the day after that. And the week after that. And the month after that. Through a series of miracles, Belen managed to survive. He ate mushrooms, but only ones he saw the strange cow like creatures of the Depths eating. He also tried eating the creatures themselves, on occasion, but they proved difficult to stomach. Water was in plentiful supply, and he soon learned how to find it quickly and efficiently. He hid from monsters, or managed to take them down through a combination of massive amounts of luck and increasing, but still only slightly above average, crossbow skills. The one thing he could not do, was find a way out. Over time, Belen’s hair and beard grew longer, and he adapted more and more to the harsh underground environment, but he also got more and more frustrated. There had to be a way out, he just couldn’t find it. It took a year and a half of living in the Depths before he had even the slightest hint came his way. There was something following him. Something big. He quickened his stride. His eyes, while better at seeing in low levels of light than most humans, were still not designed for the inky blackness of the Depths, so he couldn’t see the creature behind him. But in all likelihood, it could see him, or smell him, or something. Lots of creatures down here didn’t even have eyes, they relied completely on other senses. If he panicked, it would just outrun him. He had to be clever about this. The passage branched up ahead, and there was a dim glow coming from one direction. Belen headed towards it. Many dwellers of the Depths didn’t like light, and the big beast might just move on. And if it came to blows, at least Belen would be able to see clearly. He stepped around a bend in the passage to encounter a mushroom grove, some of the fungi were glowing with a greenish light. There was a strange calm here, in this cavern, but Belen was ignoring that feeling at the moment. The cavern was a dead end. There were no other passages, not even any places to hide. Worse, the creature’s snuffling was now audible, only a short distance down the tunnel Belen had come from. He began to panic. Belen drew and loaded his crossbow, stepping to the far side of the cavern and preparing to fight the beast. It stepped out of the tunnel, preparing to fight Belen. It was a strange creature, like many creatures of the Depths. It had a head like a hawk, but a body like a turtle. It stood on only two legs, and in place of arms it had long, hook like, claws. It would probably tear Belen in half with one blow. He fired his crossbow, hitting it square in the stomach. The creature blinked in surprise, but then let out a roar, charging forwards. It lashed out with one giant hook. Belen scrambled out of the way, avoiding the blunt of the attack, but the hit knocked the crossbow from Belen’s hands, sending it flying one way and Belen flying the other. He hit the ground hard, frantically grasping for anything he could use to hold the creature off. His hands closed on a stick. It would have to do. Belen thrust it forward in front of him, hoping beyond hope that the creature might be afraid of wood. He ran until his legs refused to carry him any further, then he collapsed, panting, on the cool floor of the underground tunnel. He looked critically at the thing he had grabbed. It was a normal enough piece of wood, covered in strange designs that looked similar to surface creatures Belen remembered hearing about as a child. Bears, deer, wolves, and the like. He asked the stick what it was. He didn’t expect a response. It spoke inside of his head, explaining that it was a spirit, a guardian of nature. It had been trapped inside the totem Belen now held by a wizard nearly a century ago. It had sat in that grove, waiting for someone to come along who might take it back to the surface. Belen had been that person. It told him that he was to take it to the surface with him. Then he would set out to find a way to release the spirit. Along the way, Belen would become a hero, wielding the primal might of the spirit in the wood to protect nature. The spirit told him that it was his destiny. Belen said that he didn’t want to be a hero. He wanted to be a baker. There was silence after that, but then the spirit told Belen that it knew exactly how to get out of the Depths from their current location, and that he had no choice in the matter of his destiny anyways. They started towards the surface. It took a full two months to make it back to the surface. The spirit, Pine, it said its name was, enhanced Belen’s vision and navigation skills, cutting down on travel time drastically. When they finally returned, it was another two day’s walk to Cargane. Nobody recognized him. He made his way to the bakery where his family had once lived, only to find that it was no longer there. When he asked around, it came to light that his family had moved east, following a promise of land where they could take up farming. There was nothing to be done about that. He didn’t even know how far east their new farm might be. The only other people in town that Belen had any particular relationship with were his old comrades from his time in the militia. The only practical thing to do was seek them out. Elven, Deep Speech, and most of the knowledge skills are actually things that Pine can do. The spirit translates/feeds Belen knowledge whenever one of these things is needed.
AC: 16 Fort: 12 Ref: 14 Will: 15
If you had told someone who knew Belen at that time that the boy was destined to become the host of a primal spirit, they would’ve laughed in your face. If you had told Belen himself, he would’ve kindly explained to you that the heat was getting to you and you should sit down and have a drink of water. He didn’t want to become adventurer, he wasn’t yet sure what he wanted, but it seemed that everyone else wanted him to take over his father’s business after his mandatory stint in the militia, so he convinced himself that was his greatest desire.
When Belen turned 16, he picked up a crossbow, the first weapon he had ever attempted to use in his life. He wanted to learn to fight at least at a basic level before joining the militia, and a crossbow seemed the easiest to learn. Not to mention the fact that it kept him away from the front lines and the bloodshed. Blood made him feel squeamish, especially his own blood. So a crossbow it was, and within a few months Belen could shoot it with a level of accuracy that was decidedly average, much like everything else he did. Except baking, he was actually quite good at that, and at this point looking forward to taking over the shop.
Nothing extraordinary happened while Belen was enlisted. At least, nothing extraordinary happened to Belen Traekson. He made pretty good friends with the other members of his unit, deciding to attempt to keep in touch with them after his time was up. Belen got better with his crossbow, though not by much. He was impatient for his two years to end, so that he might finally return home.
Finally it was over. Belen was released from duty. He said his goodbyes to the people he had met, and started on his way home, choosing to travel alone so that he might gather his thoughts before seeing his family again. That was, in retrospect, a terrible decision. Or at least, one that filled Belen with deep regret.
There was a strange hole near the side of the road. It seemed almost like a well, but a very poorly done one, with rough edges and no convenient ring of stones to keep people from falling in. It was deep, but how deep was impossible to tell. Belen was curious though, so he thought that he might drop a rock down, at see how long it took to hit the bottom. He found a good-sized rock and stood at the edge of the hole to drop it in. As he was about to release it, a sudden gust of wind hit him from behind, unbalancing him. Seeing as it was only a gust of wind, it would not have been difficult for Belen to regain to his balance. But he was holding a rather heavy rock, one that was just heavy enough to drag him over the edge of the pit.
Belen had heard of these caverns before. Once, when he was a child, his mother had told hima story about a brave little boy who got lost in a series of caverns called the Depths. The story was completely made up, but the caverns were very real. And a grown man was very unlikely to survive a trip into them, much less a mere boy. Belen thought himself dead for sure if he couldn’t get out.
He had no better luck summoning help the next morning. There was only one course of action to take from here: follow the tunnel leading out of this cavern. So that was what Belen did. But it didn’t take him back to the surface. It took him deeper. So did the tunnels he followed the next day. And the day after that. And the week after that. And the month after that.
Through a series of miracles, Belen managed to survive. He ate mushrooms, but only ones he saw the strange cow like creatures of the Depths eating. He also tried eating the creatures themselves, on occasion, but they proved difficult to stomach. Water was in plentiful supply, and he soon learned how to find it quickly and efficiently. He hid from monsters, or managed to take them down through a combination of massive amounts of luck and increasing, but still only slightly above average, crossbow skills. The one thing he could not do, was find a way out.
Over time, Belen’s hair and beard grew longer, and he adapted more and more to the harsh underground environment, but he also got more and more frustrated. There had to be a way out, he just couldn’t find it. It took a year and a half of living in the Depths before he had even the slightest hint came his way.
There was something following him. Something big. He quickened his stride. His eyes, while better at seeing in low levels of light than most humans, were still not designed for the inky blackness of the Depths, so he couldn’t see the creature behind him. But in all likelihood, it could see him, or smell him, or something. Lots of creatures down here didn’t even have eyes, they relied completely on other senses. If he panicked, it would just outrun him. He had to be clever about this.
The passage branched up ahead, and there was a dim glow coming from one direction. Belen headed towards it. Many dwellers of the Depths didn’t like light, and the big beast might just move on. And if it came to blows, at least Belen would be able to see clearly. He stepped around a bend in the passage to encounter a mushroom grove, some of the fungi were glowing with a greenish light. There was a strange calm here, in this cavern, but Belen was ignoring that feeling at the moment. The cavern was a dead end. There were no other passages, not even any places to hide. Worse, the creature’s snuffling was now audible, only a short distance down the tunnel Belen had come from. He began to panic.
Belen drew and loaded his crossbow, stepping to the far side of the cavern and preparing to fight the beast. It stepped out of the tunnel, preparing to fight Belen. It was a strange creature, like many creatures of the Depths. It had a head like a hawk, but a body like a turtle. It stood on only two legs, and in place of arms it had long, hook like, claws. It would probably tear Belen in half with one blow.
He fired his crossbow, hitting it square in the stomach. The creature blinked in surprise, but then let out a roar, charging forwards. It lashed out with one giant hook. Belen scrambled out of the way, avoiding the blunt of the attack, but the hit knocked the crossbow from Belen’s hands, sending it flying one way and Belen flying the other. He hit the ground hard, frantically grasping for anything he could use to hold the creature off. His hands closed on a stick. It would have to do. Belen thrust it forward in front of him, hoping beyond hope that the creature might be afraid of wood.
He ran until his legs refused to carry him any further, then he collapsed, panting, on the cool floor of the underground tunnel. He looked critically at the thing he had grabbed. It was a normal enough piece of wood, covered in strange designs that looked similar to surface creatures Belen remembered hearing about as a child. Bears, deer, wolves, and the like. He asked the stick what it was.
He didn’t expect a response. It spoke inside of his head, explaining that it was a spirit, a guardian of nature. It had been trapped inside the totem Belen now held by a wizard nearly a century ago. It had sat in that grove, waiting for someone to come along who might take it back to the surface. Belen had been that person.
It told him that he was to take it to the surface with him. Then he would set out to find a way to release the spirit. Along the way, Belen would become a hero, wielding the primal might of the spirit in the wood to protect nature. The spirit told him that it was his destiny.
Belen said that he didn’t want to be a hero. He wanted to be a baker. There was silence after that, but then the spirit told Belen that it knew exactly how to get out of the Depths from their current location, and that he had no choice in the matter of his destiny anyways. They started towards the surface.
It took a full two months to make it back to the surface. The spirit, Pine, it said its name was, enhanced Belen’s vision and navigation skills, cutting down on travel time drastically. When they finally returned, it was another two day’s walk to Cargane. Nobody recognized him. He made his way to the bakery where his family had once lived, only to find that it was no longer there. When he asked around, it came to light that his family had moved east, following a promise of land where they could take up farming.
There was nothing to be done about that. He didn’t even know how far east their new farm might be. The only other people in town that Belen had any particular relationship with were his old comrades from his time in the militia. The only practical thing to do was seek them out.
Elven, Deep Speech, and most of the knowledge skills are actually things that Pine can do. The spirit translates/feeds Belen knowledge whenever one of these things is needed.
Submission reservation post.
For Samuel Tong-Mei.
====== Created Using Wizards of the Coast D&D Character Builder ======
FINAL ABILITY SCORES
STARTING ABILITY SCORES
Within the Silverlands, to the South, there is a fiefdom of sorts called Dalong. The people of Dalong have a certain visible degree of cultural difference with the rest of the Silverlands, as they came from Outside and settled in. Many generations have passed since then, however, and the people of Dalong are more Silverlander than not, despite their differing names, clothing styles, and the persistence of a few odd holidays and superstitions. Dalong is humbly ruled by the Daxian family, and has been for many generations.Personality Show
Samuel Tong-Mei was born and raised in Caragane, the third son of a distant off-shoot from one of the Vassal families that served the Daxian. He led a largely normal childhood and early adulthood, always joining eagerly in communal activities, from drinking toasts to his time in the militia, to prove his place among his hometown. Sam was not terribly good at any sort of martial pursuit. He wasn't strong, or quick, or tough. He was clever, and he tried hard, but he never made more than a mediocre militiaman. His service was concluded at the end of his two years, as no one thought he'd make career militiaman, unless he was promoted to Officer, and his Dalong blood made that unlikely.
Samuel left Caragane about a year ago. Rumors flew that he was shamed for his relative failure in the militia, but the truth is different. The Daxian, and the Tong(his father's family) recalled anyone even somewhat of the blood to Dalong. Bandits had grown more and more daring in the area, and something unnatural seemed to be afoot [I want these details to imply that the same fate befalling the Silverlands as a whole now hit Dalong first, but don't know what best to put]. Samuel, and the rest of his Vassal clan, held Dalong hard against ruthless bandits, but it seemed to always be a losing battle. They had resigned themselves to deaths in vain when Sam's distant cousin, a bookish lad of but fifteen, found a possible way out.
The way was not easy, nor casually undertaken. Samuel, along with three cousins and one Daxian scion, undertook a dangerous ritual to gain more power. They summoned a representative of the Dark Congress, a huge union of Dark Spirits, and swore a pact to gain the power needed to drive off the threat to their ancestral lands. Each man was asked to give one body part and one emotion. Tien Tong-Mons, the cousin that found the book, paid dearest. Samuel considered his deal easy. He was asked to give up his left eye and his sadness. He did so willingly.
Samuel gave his eye and his sadness to the Dark Congress. Where his left eye was, there is now a sphere of solid, inky blackness. Samuel can see from it as though it were a real eye, but the Dark Congress can see through it as well, and knowing this, Samuel soon took to covering it with an eyepatch. His sadness took longer to notice, but has been jarring in its own way. Samuel had assumed they would take his memories of sadness, but instead, they took the emotion itself. Samuel can no longer feel sad, no matter what the occasion is. He can feel somber, but where once sadness sat, now he feels nothing.
With the newfound powers of Sam and his kin, the battle against the bandits was won. Dalong took heavy losses, but survived. With the need for him now over, Samuel has come home, excited and afraid of what the future might hold. Unlike when he left, Samuel has become the ideal militiaman, but this is not his fate...
Samuel has always been a friendly, optimistic person, and this has not changed with the times. He tries to make the best of anything, and tends to be fiercely protective of those he counts as friends and countrymen. He is willing to put his all on the line for others. Growing up as a bit of an 'outsider" among the Silverlanders has left Samuel eager for acceptance. He often tries hard at whatever he does in the hopes of recognition.
The pact has changed him, somewhat. He believes fiercely that his dark powers are just a tool, and that it is how this tool is used that defines its morality. More than ever, Sam is eager to help his countrymen. He can no longer feel sadness for lost comrades, but tries to venerate them instead, to feel something. As a result, he is slow to judge the means, and focuses on the ends instead.
Samuel is a man of average height, at best. His skin is a shade darker than most, and his hair is dark, signs of his heritage. Overall, he is unremarkable, physically. His frame is slight. However, his muscles remain well-toned, though they don't stand out. His pact has made it impossible for him to really get out of shape. His most notable aspects are his hair, which is long, and worn in a ponytail, his eyepatch, and his bronzen skin. Samuel wears a goatee, which he trims every other day to ensure its neatness. (I don't know if you've ever worn a beard for any length of time, but trimming every other day is quite attentive, even somewhat obsessive. A good beard really needs trimming once a week at most)
He dresses sharply, taking care to maintain the quality and cleanliness of his clothes and armor, though they are not of a particularly expensive make. He favors light browns and blues.
Role-wise Sam will be partway between a Defender and Striker. Probably like an off-tank Striker. Good for a fifth man.
- Race: Longtooth Shifter -> Human. Racial: Sam can draw upon the darkness when in need to recieve a rush of vitality, resotring HP and granting additional damage.
- Class: Barbarian|Warden Hybrid -> Warrior with a dark pact. Samuel's pact with the Dark Congress provides him with strength and prowess beyond what he once held.
- Theme: Unseelie Agent -> Dark Congress Agent. Samuel always has a cold iron sword at hand, it seems to appear when he tries to reach for a weapon.
- Form of Winter's Herald -> Samuel can, from his pact, summon a set of of bone armor. This armor is bound to his own skin and has a fearsome visage, complete with a horned helm that appears as a skull. However, Sam is loath to call it unless the circumstances are very dire, because it makes him feel the evil of his pact, and makes what he has done plain to see. However, sometimes he may have to call it, because the armor grants him supernatural durability.
Submission in progress for:
Character Sheet Show
====== Created Using Wizards of the Coast D&D Character Builder ======Background Show
Tamierian Spellblade, level 1
Pirates of the Ghost Sea ShowPersonality Show
Tamierian had been left at Lost Angel's Refuge one night as a baby and had never known his parents. Lost Angel's Refuge was an orphanage by the sea, not far from the docks in a town called Escur. As the years went by, he grew up being a mischevious little brat. Spending most of his time walking up and down the piers and stealing what he saw fit. He seemed to always be causing some sort of trouble in town, as well as at the orphanage. Tamierian had grown accustom to staring out to sea and wondering what laid beyond the mist. The day he turned 8, he decided he was going to runaway to sea. He had carefully planned to jump aboard the next ship that made birth and never look back, destined to become a hardy traveler. The next day he walked down to the docks and carefully hid out of sight until one of the biggest ships he had ever seen came in. Night fell and he snuck aboard, not paying attention to anything. He found himself a nice dark place and laid himself to rest. When he awoke the ship was already at sea. The ship he had stowed away in was none other than The Sultry Maiden, a pirate ship headed by Handsome Jack.Order of the Blue Flame Show
Being a boy of 8 and not a very good sneak, he was soon found and brought to the captain. Handsome Jack took pity upon the boy and as he had some morals, never any women or children to be hurt, he put Tamierian to work with the most menial tasks that his crew neglected to do. The life Tamierian dreamt of was not anything like this. He had hoped to visit town after town, not be chained to the lower decks and made to scrub the floors. This ship was worse than the orphanage. Months went by and Tamierian identified more and more with his 'captors', he had gotten to watch as they struck it rich and did as they pleased. Perhaps this wasn't as bad as he thought. Some of the crew had taken a liking to him and began to teach him the ways of the blade. Eventually he was free to roam the ship and because he was pulling his own weight Handsome Jack began to notice him more. The captain soon gave him his own steel, a rapier with a golden hilt that they had recently looted, and began to give the boy lessons.
At the age of 10 Tamierian had gotten the hang of wielding a blade and, while still a novice, was allowed to go ashore and help the crew during some of the pillaging and looting. During one such event, Tamierian had become separated from the pirates he was helping. He had become more distracted by the items he was stealing, than the combat around him. He had failed to notice that the house he was in had become surrounded by townsguard which had chased off the pirate crew. Before long The Sultry Maiden was back at sea without Tamierian. Tamierian on the other hand had managed to get captured and placed in irons. He began to dread the worst, death. That's what happens to pirates after all. On his way to the barracks to be imprissoned, an elder mage saw the boy and took pity.
Meris Spellbinder, an elder mage from the Order of the Blue Flame, was the person who took pity on this 10 year old boy. It was a meeting of chance, as the elder mage had only been in town passing by on his way to Caragane. The Order of the Blue Flame is the most distinguished and well known group of powerful mages. Only few who show exceptional power with magic are ever allowed in. Meris saw something in Tamierian, perhaps the fact that Meris was getting older and had never had time for a child of his own tipped the scales, and pleaded with the guard for his life. Meris made a deal with the guard in which he would be fully responsible for this rapscallion and any actions he made there forth.
Tamierian felt indebted to this kind wizard, and did not run. Maybe it was the fact that he felt he owed him something, or the fact that he had heard tales about the Order of the Blue Flame that kept him around. Tamierian stuck around and never left Meris' sight. Hoping that he could earn his trust and one day learn the ways of the mage. Meris traveled freely, as was Tamierian's dream, and would on occassion stop by local towns and cities to help by using the magic he wielded. He taught Tamierian small parlor tricks, but nothing that would ever get out of hand. Tamierian begged and pleaded that he show him more advanced magic, but Meris refused, stating that the power of magic is too great. Tamierian stuck around anyhow, and grew close to Meris. He looked up at him with great respect, and almost like a father figure. He did, after all, spare his life from the chopping block.
One late afternoon as they traveled through the woods, they had come under siege by bandits, Tamierian drew his rapier to protect Meris, but Meris told him to put it away. The bandits mocked and threatened to kill both of them, it was only until one of them raised a hand to Tamierian that he unleashed the true power and the reason he was sanctioned by the Order of the Blue Flame. What Tameirian saw that day will forever live in his memory. Meris told Tamierian that if he was serious about the study of magic and could become responsible enough to control what he had seen, that he would teach him the ways. Tamierian agreed to these terms, and on his 14th birthday, his training commenced.
At 15 Meris and Tamierian had settled down in Caragane, after wandering throughout the whole of Fellenor for years. While Tamierian had not lost his mischevious character, he had also learned great respect and understanding of life. Day in and day out, he was made to study lines of text, and read book after book of ancient studies. He was a fast learner and was able to mix what he was learning from Meris with what he had learned from Handsome Jack. Given up the life of a pirate and the life of doing wrong, Tameirian set his sights on becoming more like Meris. Helping people in the town of Caragane between his studies and joining the militia when he was 18.
After returning from his post in the militia, he returned to Meris seeking guidance and even more knowledge, but Meris was not to be found. He had been called in by the Order of the Blue Flame a year after Tamierian's admitance into the militia. No one had heard from him since. Tamierian set his sights on traveling to find Meris and helping those in need along the way, but the trail grew cold. As the Order of the Blue Flame was not one to make their business public, Tamierian gave up his journey after 3 years and headed back to Caragane, to pick up his studies where he left off, hoping Meris would one day return.
The time spent at sea with the Handsome Jack and his crew really took a toll on Tamierian. He was taught to worship the Traveler, a deity of the dark six. Even though Tamierian never fully gave himself to the dark lord, he still portrays some of those traits from his youth. While smart, and intelligent, Tamierian isn't very wise. He normally doesn't stop to think about the consquences fully before taking action. One such event turned his hair grey and singed off his eyebrows for a week. He likes to play harmless tricks on the unsuspecting but never takes it farther than a laugh. A bit on the mischevious side, he usually means well. He is comfortable around those who enjoy living life as well as helping others. Loyal and faithful, he protects those who he shares camaraderie with. Always looking to make someone smile, he's a very chatty character. Some call him a nuisance, while others call him personable.Appearance Show
Tamierian is now in his 20's with medium length gray hair, a product of learning magic the hard way. A few scratches decorate his face as well as his hands from time served upon the Sultry Maiden. He has a strong chiseled jawline, with vibrant colored lips, of which are hardly ever pressed together for more than a few seconds. He's very chatty and his mischeivous streak can be seen once he gets comfortable around others. His nose is slender, and like any nose, leads up to between his eyes. His eyes are deep blue, like the seas he used to travel. A jovial fellow, his facial expressions are those of excitement, or laughter. Some would say his skin is sun touched or tan from his life with the pirates, but it's probably due to his excessive time outdoors helping folks. His weight is that of an average man, usually around 175 pounds. He stands at an average height as well, 5 foot 9 inches. He portrays a muscular build and carries the rapier that Handsome Jack gave him at all times to remind him that he must never go back to that lifestyle again. A blade with a golden hilt and guard, lightweight and extremely sharp now imbued with magic. He dresses still in the swashbuckler's lavish clothes because he believes they fit nicer than anything else. Normally black and a crimson red color.Notes Show
Tamierian's Fey Step is yet another magical trick taught to him by Meris to avoid danger.
Working on a wizard as we speak. I've never played a 4e wizard so I'm ready to give it a shot.
Character Sheet Show
====== Created Using Wizards of the Coast D&D Character Builder ======
Liramek, Disgraced Spellwarder, level 1
Human, Wizard (Arcanist)
Arcane Implement Mastery Option: Staff of Defense
Human Power Selection Option: Bonus At-Will Power
Student of Ironstone (Endurance class skill)
Theme: Wizard's Apprentice
FINAL ABILITY SCORES
STR 8, CON 13, DEX 10, INT 20, WIS 13, CHA 10
STARTING ABILITY SCORES
STR 8, CON 13, DEX 10, INT 18, WIS 13, CHA 10
AC: 18 Fort: 12 Ref: 16 Will: 14
HP: 23 Surges: 7 Surge Value: 5
Arcana +10, Endurance +6, History +10, Nature +6, Religion +10
Acrobatics +0, Athletics –1, Bluff +0, Diplomacy +0, Dungeoneering +1, Heal +1, Insight +1, Intimidate +0, Perception +1, Stealth +0, Streetwise +0, Thievery +0
Basic Attack: Melee Basic Attack
Basic Attack: Ranged Basic Attack
Wizard's Apprentice Attack: Color Orb
Staff of Defense Power: Staff of Defense
Wizard Utility: Light
Wizard Utility: Mage Hand
Wizard Utility: Whispering Wind
Wizard Utility: Suggestion
Wizard Attack 1: Witch Bolt
Wizard Attack 1: Fountain of Flame
Wizard Attack 1: Freezing Burst
Wizard Attack 1: Arc Lightning
Wizard Attack 1: Chill Strike
Wizard Attack 1: Phantom Chasm
Level 1: Staff Expertise
Level 1: Ritual Caster
Level 1: Armor Proficiency: Leather
Pass Without Trace
Leather Armor x1
Staff Implement x1
====== End ======
Among each regiment of Fellenor's armies there are special persons trained for specific tasks. Scouts, shocktroops, battleclerics, cavalry, generals, warhound and falcon trainers, and the Spellwarders. After years spent in the opal tower located at a strange and misjudged village at just east of Fellenor's capital, each Spellwarder is shipped off to aid the smaller military forces throughout Fellenor. Every Spellwarder is equipped with the capability to deal with a wide array of situations, be it scouting or blasting the enemy with mighty spells. The Opal Five, the arcane advisors and descendants of the founders of the Opal Tower, require that all apprentices fulfill their military duties after basic wizard training, a duty that most students find boring and monotonous.
Liramek was thrilled to hear that he would be able to return home to Caragane and equally thrilled to be put through militaristic training. He'd always wanted to fight in battles and he had a chance to prove his worth.
During his time in the militia, Liramek devoted almost all of his time to physical betterment, applying the focus he learned during his days as a wizard's apprentice to the physical labor required as a militia. He only ever picked up a weapon once, however. The disastrous results of his display of untrained flourishes left him short a pinky and a newly cleaned axe blade bloodied. Liramek was instead allowed to forgo weapon training and be the arcane support he was more comfortable being.
Liramek quickly befriended those in the militia who also had unique talents and forged strong bonds with those few. In the few skirmishes with bandits from the Winterkissed and during guard patrol, Liramek showed his worth to his fellow enlistees.
A year and a half into his duties as a citizen of Caragane, time Liramek enjoyed very much, would cpme
Here's a bard Alexander Dros
Alexander Dros, level 1
Birth cursed +2 to bluff
FINAL ABILITY SCORES STR 10, CON 12, DEX 10, INT 18, WIS 10, CHA 18
STARTING ABILITY SCORES STR 10, CON 12, DEX 10, INT 16, WIS 10, CHA 16
AC: 17 Fort: 11 Ref: 16 Will: 15 HP: 24 Surges: 8 Surge Value: 6
TRAINED SKILLS Arcana +11, Bluff +13, Diplomacy +9, History +11, Religion +11
UNTRAINED SKILLS Acrobatics 0, Athletics 0,Dunguneering+3, Endurance +1, Heal +1, Insight +1, Intimidate +5, Nature +3,Perception+1, Stealth +2, Streetwise +7, Thievery 0.
Tiefling racial power:Infernal wrath
At Will: misdirected Mark
At Will: Vicious Mockery
Daily: Stirring shout
Words of Friendship
FEATS Bardic knowledge
ITEMS Ritual Book
Alexander Dros of Winter's Grasp. Winter's Grasp is far too the south it grew as a frountier town for the winterkissed moutain as a place to resupply. the first line of defence against bandit attacks and as such boasts one of the largest militia persence of any town within the land.
Alexander Dros is from the Dros family over 200 years ago Alexander's ancestor Castor Dros came to this remote area to further his research into what he called 'The Flames of Wrath' a hellish black flame that would move to consume all in its path leaving nothing but ashes. Castor eventually realised his dream of controling These black flames but it left a horrible mark upon his family. Every child since has had Dark red eyes almost the colour of blood, as well as a marking of a black flame over there hearts.
Alexander Dros since his earliest memorys has been involved with music, his grandfather Gaius Dros, a former captain of the Town's militia taught him how to play a flute. he left for Fellenor at 16 to join a college of bards and artists, now at 19 he feels that his muse has run out and now needs to new exepriences in order to further his song writing and that now would be a good time to join the local militia for his 2 years required service.
Alexander has lead a charmed life his is has made him easy going and kind for the most part however if he makes a decision he can be stubborn in seeing it through to the end. and while not the bravest of people Alexander has been told since childhood to rise up and help those too weak to defend themselves
when it comes to life Alexander is a believer in finishing what you started, this can be reflected in his music where he will spent hours obsessing over every detail of his songs. Alexander also believe's that everyone has a innate talent and will always help his friends and those he deems interesting in finding their talents. While not overly religious Alexander still often prays to the winter deity and makes offering in the hope that Winter's Grasp won't suffer in the winter months.
Alexander is a tall man at 6'0 foot yet with a small frame his pale skin gives him a look of illness and many comment he needs more sunlight, he has black hair that frames his face. His eyes are the most noticeable feature due to there blood red colour, where his heart is located, a black flame tattoo is visible it glows faintly and heat comes off it when danger is near
You could have been born with a very rare disease which never allowed you to grow past your small stature. Always blame it on mother nature trying to make things harder on you, because you're awesome. It would account for being smaller than a dwarf/gnome. As for your ability to fly, still thinking about that one.
Could fluff it as a curse of some sort. You used to be a normal human, but then a witch shrunk you.
I took the whole "any race reskinned as human" to mean we were RPing normal-looking/size humans but we could use the stats and features of any race in the process. I guess LM should clarify if reskinning a pixie would let you stay small. If not, and without flying, I really don't see any reason to take pixie - those are the two defining characteristics.
I would accept a Pixie being identified as a Human struck with a curse of some sort, or being caught in a magical experiment gone wrong, or something involving powerful magic. Even so, you would still be turning heads everywhere you went. I will not lie; Pixie is certainly a difficult race to reskin. You are free to write it out as you will and find ways to explain how a normal Human was reduced to a teeny-tiny size and gifted with the ability to fly. Of course, I'm not going to force you to use the tiny size, much as I won't force a reskinned gnome to be Small.
EDIT: Just a reminder - backgrounds can only open up a skill for training or grant a +2 bonus to a skill.
I just put through some big changes to the mechanics of Reznik. He is now Ranger|Druid hybrid. I realized that since the Werewolf shape allows Beast Form powers to be used I could use druid powers.
I was quite excited to say the least. Everyone is putting in some good submissions. If I am selected I look forward to playing with you all.
The main post now has an ongoing list of submissions in their current forms. It'll be updated regularly.
Also, for newer players (this goes without saying to more experienced players) - When making selections, I'll be looking for party balance as much as interesting character concepts and vivid detail. In other words, when creating your character, be wary of submissions made before your own; I don't fear people plagiarizing, but there is a downside to having a character who is very similar to another entry. When considering two characters who function almost identically, I will almost always be more receptive to the person who submitted the character first (the rare instance being if the later submission was far more detailed and well-written than the other).
This is more for reference for people who have yet to submit. I see no problems with any submissions so far, other than a couple of backgrounds that need changing (mechanics, not story).
Does Fellenor include in its territory, or at least border, any of the mounatins mentioned in the initial post?
I'll have to look into changing Eliza, hadn't realized there was already a ranger in the posts. Perhaps a more magical being. =D
Ah, well as long as there is some territory near the mountains then that works for me. I know that area is plagued by bandits and I plan to work that into the background. :P
I'm always game to join.
Mentath Pioth was the spoiled daughter growing up, but earned some minor respect by taking on her 4 brothers (and winning). When at school, she took up defending the underdogs against the bullies during unsupervised times, but let the underdog feel her wrath when her protection was abused. Her strength of body was tempered by her faith in civilization being preferable to savagery (another reason to despise bullies). When it was time to serve and protect the community, she leaped at the first opportunity, but felt disappointed when no opportunity for greater service than basic patrol arose. Her wealthy father, patriarch of the Pioth merchant family and candidate for local high-office, paid for finishing school (where she learned the archaic language supposedly of dragons, as well as excelling in religious studies) after service was over, but his plans to have her married off (preferably to someone who would provide him some political gain) were thwarted when she sneaked into the tournament and defeated all her would-be suitors. Disowned, she left her father's household, and is seeking to make her own way in the world, with help from any worthy of her protection.
Mentath Pioth is slight of build, and young, with a mop of short curly brown hair. Aside from some basic equipment, she carries only the plate armor and great sword that were to be the other prizes of the tournament. A bright red surcoat with no coat-of-arms drapes over the top.
Mentath grew up privileged, and more than a little of her attitude continues. She is sometimes haughty, but knows that her station is now no higher than that of an average Mercenary. Her faith holds that the powers and benefits of civilization should be spread to all, even by force if necessary. The concept of "Killing them for their own good" doesn't seem to phase her. She is loyal to those who prove themselves worthy, and ferocious against those who force others into obedience. This seeming hypocrisy is not something she notices.
Character Sheet: Show
Mentath Pioth, level 1
Build: Avenging Paladin
Background: Noble Scion (+2 to Religion)
FINAL ABILITY SCORES
Str 20, Con 10, Dex 10, Int 8, Wis 11, Cha 14.
AC: 10 Fort: 17 Reflex: 12 Will: 14
HP: 25 Surges: 11 Surge Value: 6
Speed: 5 (slowed by platemail)
Insight +5, Religion +6, Intimidate +7, Diplomacy +7, Heal +5
Acrobatics 0, Arcana -1, Bluff +2, Dungeoneering 0, Endurance 0, History -1, Nature 0, Perception 0, Stealth 0, Streetwise +2, Thievery 0, Athletics +5
Human: Mighty Challenge
Level 1: Devoted Paladin
Lay on Hands: minor: target regains HP by spending one of my surges
Divine Challenge: Minor: cburst5, 1 enemy marked (-2 to attack if does not include me, takes 5 damage first time)
Holy Strike: +8 vs AC, 1d10+5 Radiant
Challenging Strike: If I am bloodied, I can target AC or Will--whichever is lower, +8 vs 1d10+5 + marked
Ardent Strike: +8 vs AC, 1d10+5 + divine Sanctioned, can be used with charge.
Valorous Smite: +8 vs AC, 2d10+2, each enemy within 3 Divine Sanctioned
Divine Strength or Divine Mettle: +5 to next damage roll or ally within 10 makes save at +2
Noble Presence: Move: CBurst 3, one or two allies can shift 2 and gain +2 power bonus all defences
Blood of the Mighty: +8 vs AC, 4d10+5, I take 5 damage
Adventurer's Kit, Plate Armor, Greatsword, Javelin (2)
Introducing: Dossk Wjeltekamr, the Bearblade
Character Sheet Show
Dossk Wjeltekamr, level 1
Build: Bravura Warlord
Archer Warlord Optional Choice: Standard Warlord Armor Features
Warlord: Combat Leader
Commanding Presence: Bravura Presence
Dragonborn Racial Power: Dragonfear
Background: Indulged Scion (+2 to Intimidate)
FINAL ABILITY SCORES
Str 18, Con 12, Dex 12, Int 10, Wis 8, Cha 18.
STARTING ABILITY SCORES
Str 16, Con 12, Dex 12, Int 10, Wis 8, Cha 16.
AC: 17 Fort: 15 Reflex: 12 Will: 15
HP: 24 Surges: 8 Surge Value: 7
Intimidate +13, History +7, Athletics +8, Diplomacy +9
Acrobatics, Arcana, Bluff +4, Dungeoneering -1, Endurance, Heal -1, Insight -1, Nature -1, Perception -1, Religion, Stealth, Streetwise +4, Thievery
Level 1: Weapon Proficiency (Bastard sword)
Warlord at-will 1: Brash Assault
Warlord at-will 1: Intuitive Strike
Warlord encounter 1: Vengeance is Mine
Warlord daily 1: Lamb to the Slaughter
Chainmail, Light Shield, Bastard sword, Backpack (empty), Bedroll, Bottle of Wine, Climber's Kit, Crowbar, Fire Kit, Hempen Rope (50 ft.), Shovel, Sunrod (2), Trail Rations (10), Hammer, Travel Papers, Oil (1 pint) (2)
Role Explanation Show
Dossk is a warlord, so his primary role is Leader. His skill-set lends itself to working well as a great partner for a defender or a striker, with his large amount of attack enabling.
-Brash Assault, when combined with Harlequin Style (Picked up at Level 2), gives Dossk a fair amount of tankiness when using this ability.
-Intuitive Strike is for those mobs that have a high AC but low will, like Soldier enemies. In addition, you can set up some strong attack bonuses for flanking.
-Vengeance is Mine is another ability I love for warlords. I get hit, he gets hit twice. The attack enabling for this build is nuts.
-Lamb to the Slaughter is more of a lazy-lord ability with its massive amount of enabling. Can make for some awesome positioning in battle. Just pull a guy out of the group and focus him down.
Reflavoring Details Show
Not much reflavoring needed for this PC. He's a dragonborn reflavored to a big, beefy human, which is pretty easy. I picked dragonfear instead of dragonbreath, because it is easier to RP than spitting out a bunch of fire at an a enemy. The dragonfear goes along with how Dossk is: a large, intimidating warrior that will shout in your face in battle, giving free CA. Other than the race, the warlord's powers are all martial and don't need any reflavoring, really.
Worldbuilding Lore Show
A tight-knit village on the borders of Fellenor, along the edge of the Wolfwood. Kjurfell is located in a shallow valley, between two large hills. Over the past century, it has come to be known to brew up many naturally-gifted warriors from its gene pool. The men from Kjurfell are strong, fast, bigger than average, making them overall physically superior in a combat role than the average Fellenoran. The endurace of the residents is also renowned. Kjurfell's weather is snowy for most of the year, barely melting off during the short months of summer in the realm. It is said that Kjurfelli are born in the snow, and that their blood runs steaming, offering them resistance to the harsh cold, but such myths are old wives' tales.
The Kjurfelli are known for their harsh family relations. The parents believe in the idea that, like a nesting bird, children should be thrown from the nest. If they can fly on their own, they will succeed and become strong and moral warriors. If they plummet, unable by instinct to fly on their own, then the child is doomed to mediocrity and shunned by the warrior-culture. The intense pressure on maturing children has led to a few rare failures. These children that grow to become a shunned, non-warrior are called the Urgalans. They take upon civilian duties in the village and usually live on the edge of town in pitiful shanties, or move deeper into the Wolfwood to escape the hostilities opressed onto them.
Kjurfell's architecture isn't particularly impressive; the residents focus more on functionality then aesthetics. Thick log cabins and irregularly paved cobblestone roads dot the valley, and the massively thick Wolfwood is drawn upon for supplying the great amounts of firewood needed to keep the residents warm through the near-permanent winter.
Recently, rumors have made their way to the reaches of Fellenor that some of the villagers have disappeared. Most of the disappearances have been smaller children, but the worst of the rumors say that a whole hunting party of 5 or 6 men went missing just a fortnight ago. Kjurfell isn't the only hamlet that has had missing people, but it shows that whatever is taking them is able to take on even the strongest and hardest-enduring of men.
Dossk's Origins Show
Dossk was born in Kjurfell, and was no different physically from the rest of the male babies that originate from the harsh-weathered warrior-hamlet. In his first few years, he exhibited the traditional Kjurfelli strength, development, and yearning to succeed as a warrior. As a young child, before he was of age to don the traditional armor and practice with a real blade, he watched his older brothers Trask and Felenc in their training. He'd always wanted to be as strong as them one day, when he grew up. Maybe then they would stop messing his hair up and calling him "little brother." They practiced in the hard-packed snow outside the cabin, calling their swings and taking turns learning to block them without taking too much of the hit in their forearms.
Dossk's parents were classic Kjurfelli material. His father, a stern man that showed little love for his sons outside their training, always seemed to have his dark, watchful eyes on Dossk as he grew up. The boy felt that he had been born a runt, his brothers being well above 6-feet tall even in their middle teens. Because of this, Dossk grew to harbor cold feelings toward the man, in response to the watchful, silent eyes. His mother was much more yielding and loving than Dossk's father toward her youngest, but she too was of the Kjurfelli mindset that the children should not be coddled and over-praised. She chose to let her child grow up his own way, learning from his older brothers and from his own instinct.
Adolescence and Maturity Show
Dossk, despite his father wanting to have nothing to do with him, and his mother barely helping him along his journey, was determined not to become an Urgalan and fall from all possible glory in life. He grew to be very independent boy, only relying on his older brothers for advice, and not to fight his personal battles for him.
At the age of 9 Dossk began his own training after joining a small group of boys in the village. They'd meet every morning near the stables with their wooden weapons. They tried to make do with what oversized or hand-me-down armor they could get their dirty hands on. Dossk came across one of Felenc's practice shields; it was a thin, fragile metal, but much more sturdy than a wooden buckler, and it was heavy too. The extra weight satisfied Dossk, as it'd help him build his arm strength as well.
The group sparred and practiced mock skirmishes. Occasionally, one of the boys' fathers would arrive in the morning, fully suited in real armor and with a Kjurfelli blade or axe holstered or sheathed on his belt. The fathers who chose to participate in the training were looked upon as role models, and the sons glorified. Dossk, however, never had his father show up to the training. Because of this, he felt a bit isolated from the others, and only tacked on to the disdain he held for his father. Even with his father continuing to ignore his training, Dossk proved himself amongst the group of boys. After months of training, he could best just about every one of them with his footwork and skill at blocking. His sword arm was weak still, and using a light wooden blade wasn't helping anything.
Finally, at the age of 10, after having trained with the boys for a full year, Dossk felt like he had some serious potential as a warrior. However, some of the older boys had started getting their growth spurts, and were already sporting a few chin hairs and bulging chest and bicep muscles. A particularly rough 13-year old had even managed to obtain a dull blade from his irresponsible father. During a spar with Dossk, the older boy took his advantage to the limit and brought the dull blade down on Dossk with unwarranted force. Dossk was quick to react, but the blade snapped his raised shield in half and gave him a quite nasty injury to his shield arm. With rage in his heart, Dossk leapt at the older boy and viciously struck him with the wooden blade, snapping it on his head and punching him in the face with his shield arm. Crying and sputtering, the 13-year old finally had a seething Dossk pulled off of him. His nose was broken, he had a gash in his head, and a tooth was missing.
To Caragane Show
Dossk's father took his outlash as an easy way to get the boy out of his sight for good. The boy was immediately pulled from his combat training. Dossk's father's silent contempt of the boy finally manifested itself when he let the boy know how much he disliked him, and didn't value him as a true son of his. "Might as well have been a bastard, you."
Once he had gathered his stuff, and had said a brief, confused, and frightened goodbye to his brothers and mother, Dossk was picked up by a carriage and brought to Caragane, the nearest town. The sudden action on his father's part hurt Dossk, and he knew that it would be a long while before he would be able to return to Kjurfell to see his brothers. With this in mind, he rethought his mindset and sought to prove himself to whoever would be watching over him in his teenage years.
Dossk was taken as a ward of one of the nobles in Caragane because of his status as a Kjurfelli recruit, and treated as such. The noble family promised him a lucrative career in being a bodyguard for the young sons and daughters of the nobleman - the Illsens, they were called. Dossk's last adolescence years were spent training in the art of being a guardsman for the family, despite his youth. He was taught to use a real blade, and after being granted usage of a suitably sized one, Dossk truly began to gain some arm strength and feel confident in his abilities.
At age 14 he was given an Illsen uniform and he was overjoyed. This confirmed his role as a bodyguard for the noble House, and he wore it with much pride. He had also begun his growth spurt and even had a few chin hairs growing. Sheathing his longsword in his belt-scabbard and holstering his shield to his back, he looked the part as a noble guardsman, even at his young age. Becoming friends with the younger Illsen children, he was looked up to as a sibling to the ones he was closer with, and the father was pleased with his charming behavior toward his children.
When he turned 17, Dossk became of age and Master Illsen himself purchased a beautiful bastard sword for the young man. It was heavy, almost too heavy to wield in one hand, but Dossk was prepared for this. He was already looking very much like his older brothers, with signs of a scraggly beard and toned muscles showing through his tunic. He accepted the blade with honor. It was dark, gilded from a more refined variant of iron that gave it its shadowy lustre. The hilt was square and chunky, which made it look very regal and powerful. Engraved into the gold-colored hilt was "Protector of House Illsen" on one side, and "The Blade of Kjurfell" on the other. Confused, Dossk questioned if the blade was made in his hometown by the smiths there. "No, Dossk," Master Illsen responded. "You are the Blade. The Blade of Kjurfell," he said, smiling.
Service in the Militia Show
At the age of 19, Dossk was drafted into the militia of Caragane for his mandatory 2-year-service. He was disappointed when he was forced to remove his Illsen raiment and don the new, tacky-looking uniforms, but he was able to keep his blade. Upon gaining access to his shield again through his charm and a few oddjobs, he started to not mind his service. Growing to enjoy the presence of his allies in his squadron, he made friends and felt the ties growing as he once did in his training group in Kjurfell.
As he turned 20, he became fully matured in his figure, and looked quite the man with his full beard and general hairiness. Already having been nicknamed "The Blade," after toting around his special sword, his friends teasingly dubbed him the "Bearblade," due to his size and beard. The name stuck, and Dossk grew to like it after he couldn't do a thing about being called it over and over.
The Militia years passed quickly for Dossk, and with his new training and conditioning, he returned to the Illsens for a few years to continue being their bodyguard. Master Illsen was impressed with his development as a warrior, and the young children loved his new title. "The Bearblade is here! He's here!" They would shout as he saw to their morning routines.
Dossk had all but forgotten about his homeland until recently. A messenger had arrived at the Illsen Manor, and the Master pulled Dossk into a sideroom, pain written on his face. "Your brother Trask... He has gone missing, as well as a handful of other men. They were on a hunting excursion in the Wolfwood, and they haven't been seen in a fortnight. I fear it is another of the uncanny disappearances that the hamlets have been victim to. Something foul is afoot, my Blade. The rumors speak of... creatures in those Woods."
With the grave news in mind, Dossk sets out for the city-center to learn what he can about the rumors before he returns to his home, the first time in a decade.
Dossk's spirit is a rambunctious one. His heart lies in the heat of combat, and is usually itching to get into a new one when he can. Because of this, he places great respect and loyalty to those he acknowledges as peers in battle, especially when they are able to do things he could never do, such as sorcery or unparalleled archery. For this reason, he is very loyal to the motley group of allies he made during the two-year service in Caragane, having had his hide saved by them a few times.
Dossk might be intimidating and a furious warrior, but he is not without his "chivalric" values and good-temper outside of the battle. The Bearblade will never miss his chance to crack a bawdy joke or tease one of his allies about their new, strangely undergarment-shaped piece of armor. However, when battle does erupt, his head is already in the planning mode, deciding between charging in no holds barred or fighting tactically and cautiously.
Dossk stands at 6-foot-2, and is built a bit stocky, but lean enough to still be a bit agile in his movements. He isn't as barrel-chested as he would seem, decked out fully in his armor, but his many layers add to the powerful figure he looks like in battle. His has strong arms and legs, having continued his conditioning even after his mandatory service, so as to buff up to be a bodyguard for the House Illsen again.
Dossk has dark brown hair that, when not tied into a bun to wear his helm, hangs loosely down to his shoulders. It is stringy and thick, and sometimes adorned with thick leather ties around pieces of it to keep it from his eyes outside of battle. He has dark, thick eyebrows. His eyes are a dark green, with a slight grayish tint to them. His eyes are set deep into his skull, making him look slightly more aged than 24. His sharp nose isn't very thick, and looks a bit crooked from a previous fracture. His thin lips are pulled taut, ready to give away a smile or to bare his teeth, depending on friend or foe. Along his strong jaw is a thick beard, grown both for warmth and for the intense look it gives him. It is because of the beard and his general hairiness in general that has earned him the "bear" in Bearblade.
Dossk wears thick leathers, layered for warmth. On top of this, he has a very densely-ringed suit of chainmail, held in position by small clamps that attach it to his underarmor, and a thick, dark leather belt with a chunky, dark iron belt buckle. He wears large pauldrons for shoulder protection, but are covered by large tufts of fine fur that mark the neckline of his thick, heavy black cloak that hangs to his calves. His leather leggings are coated with a plate of metal on his thigh region. The boots themselves have engraved metal greaves, and come up to his mid-thigh level. Dossk's boots are made of a very tough leather that restrains some mobility in exchange for extra protection, but offer nowhere near as much of either trade-off as iron or steel would. In battle, Dossk wears an iron fullhelm that cuts off just at the tip of his nose, allowing his mouth and beard to be seen from the outside. This is to shout orders, taunt his opposers, or even bite, should it come to that.
Combat Block Show
Alright, Lore question: Fellenor is now an oligarchy, but exactly what form does it take? Do the nobility now rule in place of the royal family? Or, is it more democratic than aristocratic? Or, is there some sort of council of elders or something along those lines? Something else? I ask because I want to know how important/powerful old noble lines awould be, in general, now that there is no longer a king.
Alright, thanks for the info. That raises one more question: are you opposed to me increasing that last of old noble families by one? Lacking the power, still, and really only being a lesser titled family with one small area of influence.
@LM: Probably can guess but figured I'd ask anyway.
Would you consider homebrew content (specifically that posted in the Homebrew forums) for this game? I am possibly looking at this: Source
Also, what is the consensus of Fellenor as far as psionics go?
The OP says any classes are allowed, I assume that means psionic ones as well.
Here is my Character Submission, A Warlock (Binder) Good-Guy! It was a stretch for me, but I did it... lol
Name: Maria Juvianni
Race: Shade (Human)
Class: Warlock (Binder)
Weight: 150 lbs.
Background: Born Among Another Race (Halflings)- +2 to Thievery
Abilities & Skills:
Hit Points: 24
Speed: 6, swim 3
Racial & Theme Features:
One with Shadow
Web of Shadows
Name: Maria Juvianni
Maria was, at one point, the town healer for a small villiage, far away from civilization. She would provide medicine for the sick and poor for only a small fee, or none at all, if she felt compelled. She lived this life for twenty years after pubescense, because she was an rphan from that point on. Her family died from a fire caused by a particularly nasty lightning strike cause during a storm of enormous magnitude. Her family's estate, quite large at the time, was destroyed. She could only save herself. So the girl went on to the small neighboring village to practice medicine, and lived this life very happily.
However, sometime during her 34th year of life, a fellow practitioner of the Art grew weary of the woman's compassion; so, the gypsy cursed her to death by water. One day, when Maria was walking to her modest hom by the lake that the village was centered on, a disturbace on the surface of the lake suprised the woman. She looked across to see a small girl thrashing wildly in the center of the lake. In an act of valor, Maria swam to the girl, only to find that she disappeared beneath the water. The woman swam underwater and found nothing.
When she tried to swim back to the surface, a cold, bony hand clawed at her feet from the depths of the lake, ensnating the witch mere feet from the surface. Maria puleld with all of her might against the undead arm, but found that her strength was not enough to pull her from its icy grasp. Her lungs started to fill with blood, and she began to die.
On the brink of death, a tiny sprite swam to her and awakened her. Time froze and the sprite transformed into a beautiful woman with flowing, ankle-length white hair. The woman, known as the Lady of the Lake, promised Maria her life back, if she would spread her compassion toward others around the land, and to battle those who would impede the progress of the natural order. Maria quickly agreed. The Lady of the Lake produced a shining sword for her, its metal twinkling in the light of the noonday sun. With it, Maria sliced the bony hand and swam to the surface. When she reached the shore, coughing up water, she realized her amber, ankle-length hair had turned as hite as snow, and her skin of ivory had darkened to a grey-ish tint. Accepting these changes, she quickly obeyed her contractual obligations to the Lady.
Maria Juvianni is a kind woman, but is also untrusting of the common populace, as is any gypsy. She is compassionate, usually keeping a gained friend at their state of friendship until something dire happens to them. The gypsy will protect the innocent, and promises to destroy those who would harm the innocent.
She is generally untrusting of other gypsies, also, because of what happened to her those years ago. In battle, she is quite self sufficient. The only aid she needs is healing, and will quickly chastise someone who gets in her way. All-in-all, Maria is an easy person to get along with, so long as you are not a person that would hinder the natural order.
I have an idea for a character that I'd like to play, much more than I'd like to play a swordmage, but it's somewhat silly.
I was talking with my real life gaming group the other day about playing Bahamut as a PC. Like, the sage with the canries version. We thought it would be neat if, around level one, you just looked like an average cleric with some regular canaries, nobody believed that you were a god, and people just assumed you weren't quite right in the head. And there was nothing about the character to prove them wrong, mechanically, or RP-wise. But then, as the character progressed, somewhere around epic (if the game ever gets that far) it would be revealed that this character really is Bahamut, or at least some aspect of him.
This is the bare-bones version, and it would be a lot more fleshed out, but since this concept is kind of out there, I'd like to see if anyone would have a problem with this in the group before I continue building it. If it matters, I have it set up as a heavily refluffed Cleric/Druid Hybrid.
I was intending for this character to be a form of Bahamut from the core setting. I remember reading somewhere that there is only one astral sea, and if one were to walk (fly, swim) from the Points of Light astral sea, they would eventually make it to the astral sea of another world, such as the version in this homebrew setting. Bahamut would have, for some reason, done just that, then experienced some sort of problem that caused him to inhabit the body of a mortal host. My character would have only very vague memories of anything that happened before he was confined to his mortal coil.
At least, that's what I was thinking, if there's a problem with any of this, I will gladly alter my character or create a new one.
I can't speak for LM, but if it were my game where I intended to have non-core gods I'd say to refluff it. It seems like you're trying to make the published lore override the whole homebrew setting lore to me, and I don't see any reason why you couldn't argue in response that the "one astral sea" exists in an entirely separate multiverse than this setting. Who's to say there even is an astral sea in this setting (besides LM)?
Okay, fair enough. I'll rethink my character being Bahamut, although I would still like to play a "Dragon Jesus." Unless LM is okay with my character being Bahamut. But... We'll see.
A couple of things:
First and foremost, while I'm not against seeing this game make it so far, I'm not actually planning on extending the campaign all the way to Epic tier, so any concept that relies on a payoff that far into the future is probably going to leave you disappointed. At the same time, a divine revelation of such magnitude doesn't strike me as appropriate for Heroic tier, either.
Second, I don't really want to introduce the core pantheon into a non-core game. If you want to create a deity who resembles Bahamut and roll with that, that's one thing, but Bahamut's associated lore isn't really applicable to a world that doesn't have the slightest inkling that there are deities beyond those commonly worshipped.
Okay, I'll work on one of the other concepts I have floating around in my head then. I understand completely the reasons why playing Bahamut would be a bad idea, and they are the reason that I wanted to run this by everyone first. Thanks.
Alright that should be my final submission which doesn't appear to be similar to any of the previous entries. *crosses fingers*
Edit- I think I'll change the background to something not so depressing.
LM, I have yet to pick a theme for Sam Tong-Mei. I sort of like the Unseelie Agent theme, but I also want to pick up weapon proficiency at second level for a Fullblade. Would you mind if, assuming I got in, I switched my Shadow-Wrought Weapon from Greatsword to Fullblade when I got the proficiency?
Or would it be better to just look at some other themes? I mean, I don't mind, lots of themes are great, I just figured it'd be worth asking.
LM, do you have anything about the Underdark beneath Fellenor already set up? Is there even one? What kinds of things live there? I figure that Drow, Deep Gnomes, Kobolds, and the like are out, except maybe refluffed as some sort of savage humans, but what about illithids? Other aberrants? Is the average person aware of the underground network of tunnels? Thanks.
Oh man I fear winter is coming.... Also finally done doing the touch ups to my character. I swear this time I'm done. Much less depressing back story than before. Now I'm a happy person! Not touching it again, unless specifically told to do so for rules issues.
@Shadow_Geist, SNIPER4HIRE7, WhisperMagellan, and Blanket_Thunder: Please adjust your backgrounds. As per the main post, backgrounds can only offer benefits in the form of a +2 bonus to a skill or unlocking a skill for training.
Just to clarify, I could use a small race, but change it to medium without touching anything else, right?
Will do once I get home. Don't have access to the character builder at work.
Aside from editing minor details of his personality for worshipping the traveler, the correction to the character sheet has been made.
Have to go find the section on backgrounds and see what I can find. Really like the Auspicious Birth/Born Under a Bad Sign though. Not just because I'm a munchkin.
LM, do you have a sketched map of the geography? It can be a rough sketch done in less than a minute, I just like to have any sort of visual to base my homebrew worldbuilding on. And how large is Fellenor? Would it be alright if I created my own secluded village/hamlet on the fringes of the Wolfwood? I was planning on it being the hook for Dossk, in that he's returned to the starting city due to news of his people going missing, and sightings of lurking evil.