This is the OOC thread for the game Five From Fellenor.
Please use this thread to ask questions, discuss strategy, brainstorm, and chit-chat with each other. I am also using this thread to keep track of lore and information for the rest of you, in case you need a reminder during the game.
I would ask everyone to please repost their character submissions in their entirety from the recruitment thread. Once everyone has done so, I will get the IC up and running.
Party Members:
Wilhelm von Trahl, Knight - Played by TheWalrus42 Reznik Callahan, Ranger - Played by CALEBROBERTS Jacqueline "Jacks" Longstride, Artificer - Played by PapaMidnight Dossk Wjeltekamr, Warlord - Played by GROMkill Rashton, Rogue - Played by Pashalik Mons
Former Party Members: Belen Traekson, Druid - Played by TheSalmonOfDoubt
"I don't like X, they should remove it." "I like X, they should keep it." "They should replace X with Y." "Anybody that likes X is dumb. Y is better." "Why don't they include both X and Y." "Yeah, everybody can be happy then!" "But I don't like X, they should remove it." "X really needs to be replaced with Y." "But they can include both X and Y." "But I don't like X, they need to remove it." "Remove X, I don't like it."
Until you've had an in-law tell you your choice of game was stupid, and just Warcraft on paper, and dumbed down for dumber players who can't handle a real RPG, you haven't lived.
Lady and gentlemen.... I present to you the Edition War without Contrition, the War of the Web, the Mighty Match-up!
We're using standard edition war rules. No posts of substance. Do not read the other person's posts with comprehension. Make frequent comparison to video games, MMOs, and CCGs. Use the words "fallacy" and "straw man", incorrectly and often. Passive aggressiveness gets you extra points and asking misleading and inflammatory questions is mandatory. If you're getting tired, just declare victory and leave the thread. Wait for the buzzer... and....
One, two, three, four, I declare Edition War Five, six, seven eight, I use the web to
D&D should not return to the days of blindfolding the DM and players. No tips on encounter power? No mention of expected party roles? No true meaning of level due to different level charts or tiered classes? Please, let's not sacrifice clear, helpful rules guidelines in favour of catering to the delicate sensibilities of the few who have problems with the ascetics of anything other than what they are familiar with.
Just a quick note on the MMORPG as an insult comparison...
MMORPGs, raking in money by the dumptruck full. Many options, tons of fans across many audiences, massive resources allocated to development.
TTRPGs, dying product. Squeaking out an existence that relys on low cost. Fans fit primarily into a few small demographics. R&D budgets small, often rushed to market and patched after deployment.
You're not really making much of an argument when you compare something to a MMORPG and assume people think that means bad. Lets face it, they make the money, have the audience and the budget. We here on this board are fans of TTRPGs but lets not try to pretend none of us play MMORPGs.
Something like Tactical Shift is more magical than martial healing.
Telling someone to move over a few feet is magical now? :|
I weep for this generation.
Given the laziness and morbid obsesity amongst D&Ders, being able to convince someone to get on their feet, do some heavy exercise, and use their words to make them be healthier must seem magical.
~ Disgruntled woodsman on a mission. ~ Barun is a loner who typically maintains his distance from his neighbors and keeps his head out of communal affairs. Gruff and unfriendly, Barun has made it a habit to ignore gossip and the company of others. His brother, Jorun, has recently gone missing, however, and Barun finds it necessary to keep an ear out for any information. He doesn't trust the locals, though, and believes that he will be the one to rescue Jorun.
~ Mayor of Caragane and a man respected by his people. ~ A greybeard who has weathered many hardships as the steward of Caragane's welfare, Coleridge has guided his home with a firm but just hand. Known for his wisdom and principles, Mathas has enjoyed an enduring popularity for many years. However, his confidence has been shaken by the recent disappearances, and it is clear he is uncomfortable with the situation.
~ Foreign-born captain, loyal to Caragane ~ Scarrol is a military officer in the town's militia. Despite hailing from beyond Fellenor's borders, Scarrol managed to win over the townsfolk upon his arrival in Caragane. His customs are sometimes bizarre by the standards of Coleridge's people, but his sense of military duty and organization are top-notch. Scarrol prides himself on being able to balance his roles as a strict instructor and an amicable role model.
~ Also known as Sun Father and Dawn's Trumpeter ~ Among the divine, there is said to be no deity that embodies order to the same extent as the Lord of Day. God of the sun and of justice, the Lord of Day looks upon the earth with compassion, warming the children of the soil and breathing life into the dust of the mortal world. It was he who helped teach man to create laws to maintain peace and purge the communities of wickedness. The law is likened to the sun by his faithful - merciful to those in need, and harsh to those who dismiss its strength. One of the oldest gods, the Lord of Day is depicted as an elderly man, who, despite the length of his beard and the baldness of his pate, retains the vigor of a man in his prime. His church's sacred colors are red, pink, and white, and his symbol is any number of a variety of stylized suns.
Caragane lies on the western edge of the Wolfwood. The trees of the great forest mingle with the outskirt houses. The exact border between Caragane and the forest is impossible to pinpoint - one simply melds into another. A significant portion of Caragane's population makes a living around and in the Wood. A great deal of wood is harvested, both timber for construction and fire wood. Any harvesting is done with the blessing of the Wardens.
The forest itself is gargantuan. Only one road crosses the dark green expanse. From Caragane, it drops down into the wood, skirting a range of wooded hills. It then bends quickly around the southern edge of the hills and follows the Glittering River upstream to Barëndorf. The small trading and fishing town of Barëndorf sits at the exit of the Glittering River (and also the road) from the Wolfwood.
"I don't like X, they should remove it." "I like X, they should keep it." "They should replace X with Y." "Anybody that likes X is dumb. Y is better." "Why don't they include both X and Y." "Yeah, everybody can be happy then!" "But I don't like X, they should remove it." "X really needs to be replaced with Y." "But they can include both X and Y." "But I don't like X, they need to remove it." "Remove X, I don't like it."
Until you've had an in-law tell you your choice of game was stupid, and just Warcraft on paper, and dumbed down for dumber players who can't handle a real RPG, you haven't lived.
Lady and gentlemen.... I present to you the Edition War without Contrition, the War of the Web, the Mighty Match-up!
We're using standard edition war rules. No posts of substance. Do not read the other person's posts with comprehension. Make frequent comparison to video games, MMOs, and CCGs. Use the words "fallacy" and "straw man", incorrectly and often. Passive aggressiveness gets you extra points and asking misleading and inflammatory questions is mandatory. If you're getting tired, just declare victory and leave the thread. Wait for the buzzer... and....
One, two, three, four, I declare Edition War Five, six, seven eight, I use the web to
D&D should not return to the days of blindfolding the DM and players. No tips on encounter power? No mention of expected party roles? No true meaning of level due to different level charts or tiered classes? Please, let's not sacrifice clear, helpful rules guidelines in favour of catering to the delicate sensibilities of the few who have problems with the ascetics of anything other than what they are familiar with.
Just a quick note on the MMORPG as an insult comparison...
MMORPGs, raking in money by the dumptruck full. Many options, tons of fans across many audiences, massive resources allocated to development.
TTRPGs, dying product. Squeaking out an existence that relys on low cost. Fans fit primarily into a few small demographics. R&D budgets small, often rushed to market and patched after deployment.
You're not really making much of an argument when you compare something to a MMORPG and assume people think that means bad. Lets face it, they make the money, have the audience and the budget. We here on this board are fans of TTRPGs but lets not try to pretend none of us play MMORPGs.
Something like Tactical Shift is more magical than martial healing.
Telling someone to move over a few feet is magical now? :|
I weep for this generation.
Given the laziness and morbid obsesity amongst D&Ders, being able to convince someone to get on their feet, do some heavy exercise, and use their words to make them be healthier must seem magical.
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.
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.
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.
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.
"I don't like X, they should remove it." "I like X, they should keep it." "They should replace X with Y." "Anybody that likes X is dumb. Y is better." "Why don't they include both X and Y." "Yeah, everybody can be happy then!" "But I don't like X, they should remove it." "X really needs to be replaced with Y." "But they can include both X and Y." "But I don't like X, they need to remove it." "Remove X, I don't like it."
Until you've had an in-law tell you your choice of game was stupid, and just Warcraft on paper, and dumbed down for dumber players who can't handle a real RPG, you haven't lived.
Lady and gentlemen.... I present to you the Edition War without Contrition, the War of the Web, the Mighty Match-up!
We're using standard edition war rules. No posts of substance. Do not read the other person's posts with comprehension. Make frequent comparison to video games, MMOs, and CCGs. Use the words "fallacy" and "straw man", incorrectly and often. Passive aggressiveness gets you extra points and asking misleading and inflammatory questions is mandatory. If you're getting tired, just declare victory and leave the thread. Wait for the buzzer... and....
One, two, three, four, I declare Edition War Five, six, seven eight, I use the web to
D&D should not return to the days of blindfolding the DM and players. No tips on encounter power? No mention of expected party roles? No true meaning of level due to different level charts or tiered classes? Please, let's not sacrifice clear, helpful rules guidelines in favour of catering to the delicate sensibilities of the few who have problems with the ascetics of anything other than what they are familiar with.
Just a quick note on the MMORPG as an insult comparison...
MMORPGs, raking in money by the dumptruck full. Many options, tons of fans across many audiences, massive resources allocated to development.
TTRPGs, dying product. Squeaking out an existence that relys on low cost. Fans fit primarily into a few small demographics. R&D budgets small, often rushed to market and patched after deployment.
You're not really making much of an argument when you compare something to a MMORPG and assume people think that means bad. Lets face it, they make the money, have the audience and the budget. We here on this board are fans of TTRPGs but lets not try to pretend none of us play MMORPGs.
Something like Tactical Shift is more magical than martial healing.
Telling someone to move over a few feet is magical now? :|
I weep for this generation.
Given the laziness and morbid obsesity amongst D&Ders, being able to convince someone to get on their feet, do some heavy exercise, and use their words to make them be healthier must seem magical.
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.
Childhood 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.
Adulthood 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.
Volberg 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.
Volberg's Falconers 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.
Alfonso 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.
You move your normal speed even when it would be reduced by armor or a heavy load. Other effect that limit speed (such as difficult terrain or magic) affect you normally.
When an effect forces you to move - through a pull, a push, or a slide - you can move 1 square less than the effect specifies. This means an effect that normally pulls, pushes, or slides a target 1 square does not force you to move unless you want to. In addition, when an attack would knock you prone, you can make a saving throw to avoid falling prone.
Choose one animal (hawk) to be your animal minion. This creature accompanies you for as long as it lives. The animal doesn't have a normal complement of actions, but it can take a move action when you take one. If it has a power, it can use it only on your turn.
At-Will * Martial Opportunity Action Personal Trigger: An enemy subject to your defender aura either shifts or makes an attack that targets an ally of yours but not you or an ally that has an active defender aura. Effect: You make a melee basic attack against the triggering enemy. If the attack misses, the enemy still takes damage equal to your strength modifier (+1).
At-Will * Aura Minor Action Personal Effect: You activate an aura 1 that lasts until you end it as a minor action or until you fall unconscious. While in the aura, any enemy takes a -2 penalty to attack rolls when it makes an attack that does not include among its targets either you or an ally of yours that has this aura active. Marked enemies are not subject to this aura.
At-Will * Martial, Stance Minor Action Personal Effect: You assume the cleaving assault stance. Until the stance ends, whenever you hit with a melee basic attack using a weapon, one enemy adjacent to you other than the target of the attack takes damage equal to your constitution modifier (+4).
At-Will * Martial, Stance Minor Action Personal Effect: You assume the defend the line stance. Until the stance ends, whenever you hit an enemy with a melee basic attack using a weapon, that enemy is slowed until the end of your next turn.
Encounter * Martial Minor Action Close Burst 5 Target: One enemy in the burst. Requirement: Your animal minion must be within 5 squares of you. Effect: You gain combat advantage against the target until the end of your turn.
Encounter * Martial, Weapon No Action Special Target: The enemy you hit. Trigger: You hit an enemy with a melee basic attack using a weapon. Effect: The target takes 1[W] extra damage from the triggering attack.
You can use constitution in place of strength for the attack roll with a melee basic attack, and half of its ability modifier in place of the strength modifier for the damage roll.
*In-effect* MBA: +8 vs. AC, 1d8+2 damage. Stand Your Ground: I can reduce the distance of any forced movement effect done to me by 1. When an attack would knock me prone I can make a saving throw to avoid falling prone. Animal Master: My animal companion (Eva the hawk) can take a move action when I do. Hawk's Eye: +4 to perception to spot creatures when within 10 squares of Eva (hawk).
Belen Traekson was born to Lilt and Togar Traekson twenty-something years ago. Belen, his mother and father, and his two siblings, one brother and one sister, both younger, lived in the town of Caragane, where Togar worked as a baker. Their family was neither rich nor poor, a very unremarkable bunch overall. Belen’s childhood was unmarked by any sort of events typical to adventurers. He didn’t study arcane lore, or martial arts, or swordplay. He didn’t show even the tiniest amount of psionic talent, and he never conversed with any kind of extraplanar entity. He did, however, learn to make bread, and other things that were similar to, but not quite the same as, bread.
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.
He fell. He didn’t know how long it took for him to hit the bottom, but he managed to, eventually. It hurt, but not as much as it should have. There was a pool at the bottom, providing a much softer landing than the expected solid ground. The hole had dumped Belen into a decent-sized cavern, most of which was occupied by the subterranean lake he was now treading water in. He paddled his way to the edge and scrambled out. It took only a cursory glance to realize that the bottom of the tunnel that had dropped him here was too high up to climb to. Belen tried climbing anyways. It didn’t work. Next he tried yelling for help. That didn’t work either, and now his voice was hoarse. So he decided to set up camp in that cavern. There was fresh water on hand, and he could try getting out again in the morning.
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.
Fire erupted around the creature. It began to flail about, with what looked like a bird made of flames swirling around it. Belen blinked in shock. The creature howled in pain, to absorbed to notice Belen’s momentary defenselessness. Not one to let this opportunity go to waste, the former surface-dweller hightailed it out of there.
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.
Belen looks much older than one would expect for his relatively young age. Most of this is due to the long beard he has grown by going two years without shaving. His skin is pale, his eyes are lightly colored, and his hair is blond. He is of a roughly average height and weight, although he walks with a slight stoop from spending so long underground, contributing to the illusion that he has lived many years. He is not particularly well muscled, preferring primal magic and his crossbow to melee combat.
Belen is normally very calm and reserved. He would rather watch events unfold from outside and only chime in when necessary than be the center of attention. He dislikes combat and would rather attempt to find another way to work things out, but when fighting becomes necessary, he’s perfectly willing to participate. Or rather, turn the control of most of his body over to Pine and ride out the fight. Due to the spirit’s influence, Belen’s fighting style is aggressive, especially when his companions are in danger, and even more so when a piece of nature is at stake. He usually won’t use his powers if it involves defiling natural beauty, partly because it doesn’t appeal to him, and partly because the spirit in his head won’t let him.
Svrinblefin --> Human (Racial power and Darkvision are powers granted him by Pine)
Magic Stones-->Magic Pinecones (Self explanatory) Call Forth the Spirit Pack-->Nature's Overgrowth (Like nature's growth, only more violent and for a shorter duration.)
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.
Male Good Svirnblefin (Human) Druid (Protector) 1st Lvl Theme: Deep Delver
Vitals: Medium, 5' 7" tall, 140 lbs. 21 years old, hails from Caragane Languages: Common, Elven, Deep Speech
Senses: 14 Insight, 21 Perception Darkvision
Encounter Powers [_]Second Wind [_] Subterranean Survival [_] Stone Camouflage
[_] Call Forth the Spirit Pack
Daily Powers [_] Action Point
[_] Summon Natural Ally
HP: HS: AC: Fort: Ref: Will:
Core 26 9 16 12 14 15
RndX 26 9
0 THP Surge: 6hp Init: +3 Speed: 6
Resist: none Saves: none
At-Will Powers Air Spirit Call the Spirits Senses of the Wild Magic Stones Fire Hawk
*In-effect* MBA: +0 vs. AC, 1d4 damage. RBA: +5 vs. AC, 1d8+3 damage, Range 15/30 Totem Expertise: +1 to attacks with a totem, ignore cover and concealment with a totem. Primal Predator: +1 speed while not in heavy armor.
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.
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
Reznik Callahan entered the militia, as all youth do, at the age of sixteen. He was just a boy then, his eyes wide and ready to see the world. His parents tried to warn him but their words fell on deaf ears. For the first six months, everything went great for the boy. He made many friends, the best hailing from Caragane like himself. Their little band never had a name but in Reznik's mind they were his Pack. Up until this point in his service he had done a perfect job of hiding his true nature from all. Each full moon, when the Change must happen, he would slip from camp. Folding his clothes neatly and stashing them in a tree he would give in. He was always back before dawn, slipping back into camp on silent feet, then waking with the rest at revelry in the morning.
But only the full moon change was not enough, just as his parents had said. They warned him that he would need to find ways to let his Wolf out more often. As the time passed he began to have waking dreams of running through the militia camp, tearing out throats and entrails from his fellow soldiers. These "dreams" disturbed him to a great degree, mainly because he so loved his fellow conscripts. They were his pack and he would never do anything to harm a single one. He repressed the Change and the Desire more and more, and consequently his temper grew short. He became irritable and jumpy. Occasionally his eyes would flash a bright ice blue, the color of his Wolf's eyes.
Poor Reznik had made it through a year and half of suffering and self-repression when it happened. He simply Changed in his sleep. He had no control of the Wolf this time. It was like watching the world through the wrong end of a telescope. He could see what was happening but was unable to affect anything. The Wolf squirmed out of his sleeping skin and cloak, then tore out of the tent. Lucky for Reznik (and his tent mate), he was alone in the tent since his bunk mate was on watch. In the light of the watch fires the militia watch cried out when they saw Reznik's Wolf. The huge shape a blur as is sprinted for the horse picket lines. The poor horses, so terrified and surprised ripped their line from the ground and tried to bolt into the nearby forest. They were all still attached by the line and became tangled at once. Several fell, screaming. A few even broke a leg and had to be put down the following day. The wolf, however, just sprinted past, and into the woods.
In the commotion, no one noticed that Reznik was missing. He was found gone at roll call the night following the commotion. His things were all in place except for his disturbed sleeping skins. Any trace of tracks had long been wiped out from those running to free the horses. Ironically, Reznik could have found the wolf's tracks still, his skill as a tracker unmatched.
Reznik wandered back into camp several days later. He had found some rough spun clothing on the farm where he had awoken as himself. When he woke it was just before dawn and he was laying in a barn, just a few feet from a cow that had it's belly torn open. Instantly he knew what had happened. He sprang to his feet, naked and covered in blood and hair. He slipped from the barn, stealing some clothes from the wash line, and began his trek back to the militia camp. Along the way he cleaned off the gore. He thought about what had happened, trying desperately to recall the events. Only small, fragmented images returned. The smell of the horse's fear, the wonderful feeling of warm blood on his snout, the contentment of running free once more.
He was dishonorably discharged a week after his return. He was found to have deserted at a time of need. The officers concluded that he had taken the opportunity to slip camp when the commotion started. He was sent home with no pay and the shame of failing the most basic service he could perform for his land and the Over Pack that was Fellenor. As soon as he was out of sight from the camp he Changed. He ran and ran and ran.
Eventually he made it back to the Wolf's Wood. The familiar smells and sounds of his home forest greeting him like a warm embrace. His parents also greeted him warmly. They were also Changed, patrolling the forest that had been the Callahan families charge for over three centuries. The two older wolves nuzzled and sniffed Reznik. He dropped low in a gesture of submission, his father and mother being the Alpha's of the greater Fellenor pack. For a time they ran together, not caring about the problems of the human world.
The rest of the Caragane militia returned six months later, bringing great stories, but also the tale of Reznik's dishonor. The townspeople already knew about the matter of course. News and gossip travels quickly in the lands. People were content to let the Callahan's be in their woods on the Western edge of the town. They had always kept the game plentiful and shown people the best places to harvest firewood. By this point Reznik was no longer very welcome in Caragane. No one would push violence against him, or his family but neither would they deal with them in a respectful manner. His parents they would talk with but Reznik they simply ignored.
In the intervening time, Reznik had joined his parents in their life's work. Centuries ago the Callahan family was entrusted with the protection of the Wolf's Wood and the people of Caragane when the previous Alpha pair had died. Each year at the Summer solstice all the wer-creatures of Silverlands (ironic, huh?) would come to the Wolf's Wood. Deep in the giant forest they would gather for the Veihsammalen at a natural amphitheater of rock. There they perform the rites of the spirits they believed protect the Land. Often mated pairs were joined during this time and children conceived. The Wolves had honor of guarding the forest, its secrets, and its humans. The mated Alpha pair were the guardian's for life. When they passed on a new Alpha was chosen at the Veihsammalen. The Callahan clan has remained Alpha, and the guardians, for centuries now.
Despite his shunning by the people of Caragane, Reznik is still their protector. Since he is ignored by most folks, he hears a great many things. He has heard the rumors of things in the night and of people missing. His pack has encountered disturbing things in the woods. He knows that trouble is coming.
Karl Callahan: The Alpha male of the Wolf's Wood. Karl's father was Warden before him, his Grandfather Warden before that. All told the Callahan's have been the Warden's of the Wolf'r Wood for over 250 years
Karl is a stubborn man who has come to resent the humans that use "his" woods. The way he sees it, the humans have done a great job of protecting themselves. Nothing but some minor infighting has happened in the last several hundered years. Karl wishes to leave the humans to their own devices and leave the Silverlands. He dreams of finding a land of unending forest where his Wolf can run free for the rest of his days. His only two reasons for not leaving are Josie and Reznik.
Karl's Wolf is entierly white with black eyes. As a man he looks to be in his fourties (but is really about 85). He has greying hair that is also deeply receeded in male-pattern baldness.
Josie Callahan: The Alpha female of the Wolf's Wood. Her family was a roaving band of gypsy like people. The band was made up of three families of Lycanthropes. A Werebear couple led the small caravan. Josie's parents and brother, Werewolves all, were generally protectors and hunters. A large family of Wereowls were the brains behind the operation. They bought and sold goods and trinkets, also repairing machinery and farm implements.
During the most recent Veihsammalen, Josie encountered Karl as a lithe black wolf with ice blue eyes. There they danced mated beneath the fullest of moons. Reznik was conceived that night and they have been the Alpha pair ever since.
Josie does not agree with Karl's opinions of the humans and the lack of threat. She ventures into town more often then he and has heard the disturbing stories and rumors. She wishes to stay and fight. Secretly she hopes to unite the Were-creatures into a single nation. From the Wolf's Wood they could strike at any malevolent force trying to attack the Silverlands.
Human Form Reznick is a tall, lithe young man, much like his parents (and all Werewolves of the land). He is lanky yet muscles formed of work and running ripple under his skin. His chest is broad and deep, housing lungs developed by years of running. He, like all of his kind wears long sleves and pants year round to hide the extreme amount of hair they posses. It is not fur like an animal but it is eveywhere. He wears a close cropped black beard that is so thick you can barely find the skin underneath. His black hair is unremarkable except for a streak of white that runs stright up the middle of his head and ends at the top. His eyes are an ice blue. His face is hard and thin, almost gaunt, yet he looks healthy enough. His ears come to small points that most people either do not notice or just chalk up to the Callahan line. More hair then normal grows inside his ears but he works hard to keep it in control. His cannine teeth are just a bit longer and sharper then a normal persons, but not enough to seem overly strange.
He dresses in supple leathers and a vest of black sheeps hide. Around the young man's neck hangs a small wolf charm carved of a polished black stone. On his back is a quiver, full of yard long arrows, fletched with goose feather and tipped with steel broadheads. His great Ash bow slung through it's loops on the quiver, unstrung. The wood is a silvery white, smooth and streaked with thin dark rings. A large hunting knife sits on his hip. Oddly, it looks somewhat unused.
Wolf Form The Wolf is huge but very thin. It is all black except for a white streak betwwen the eyes that runs up just past the ears. The eyes are Ice blue, pale and unnerving. The Wolf stands three and half feet tall at the shoulder. Other then its size, it looks just like a wolf. Anyone seeing it wols exclaim that they saw the largest wolf in the Silverlands but would not think it was anything but that.
Rolen is a guarded young man with strangers, much as a wolf might be with others not of its pack. He holds his cards close, saying little but always observing with every sense. Once people become familiar to him, part of his pack they see the real Reznik. He is a generous and genuinely helpful person. He is not stupid but would lay his life down for a pack member if it came to that. The pack mentaility has been ingrained in Reznik's instincts since birth. In any group he will be subservient to the "Alpha" pair in all things. He will eat after them, he will tend their needs beore his own, he will keep watch while they sleep. His ambition is not that he becomes Alpha of all packs he might associate with. He knows that one day he will be Alpha of the Wolf's Wood pack, and that is plenty for him. In truth he dreads the time when he must lead.
He takes his future role as Guardian of the Wolf's Wood deadly serious. The duty is not his in whole yet. It will not be until his mother and father pass from this world. If the duty fell wholly on him he would have to drop anything that he was doing and venture home rapidly to assume the mantle. As it is now he is able to enjoy his freedom as much as he would like.
Ages ago, in what was to become known as the Silverlands was yet unnamed by man, a race of sentient beasts roamed. They were as lords then, ruling over their domain, and holding the power of life and death within their claws. Then man came. They brought fire and steel. Worst of all they brought silver which was anathema to the Beasts. A few fierce battles were fought but the beasts did not have a chance against the weapons and silver of man. The few that remained fled deep into what is now called the Wolf's Wood. Human superstition and fear of the unknown kept them safe until there successors were able to come.
During the battles many men were bitten by the great beasts. Most died of fever several days later. A few, less then 1 in 100 survived, and eventually went about their lives. They farmed or ranched like everyone else, eking out a life amidst their new lands.
These survivors began to feel the pull of the Moon just as the Beasts did. But where the beasts became savage, unthinking animals, men became thinking Beasts. Many were killed by their neighbors and families during the Change. Some survived and made the journey into the Wolf's Wood. Their they joined in the frenzy with their unitended creators. When both Beast and Man were released from the Pull they found themselves able to communicate. The Beasts saw frightened, kindred spirits in these men and women. They taught them of the Land and the Spirits within. They helped them to master thier inner beasts. After a century of so, all of the Beasts had died off and joined the Spirits. The Were-men as the people now called themselves took up the mantle of protector of the Spirits, but they also took on a second task. They became protectors of man. They could not protect man from himself but they could protect him from the elder Evils in the world. The Beasts had talked often of the Demons that sought dominion over the world. They had been the protectors then and the Lycanthropes would be protectors now.
The people of the Silverlands have never known their protectors except as monsters. They are feared as Beasts. The history of the settling of the Silverlands is only legend now. The Beasts of the legends have become the same monsters people see the Lycanthropes as now. They were the terrible creatures that the heroes of the stories liberated the Silverlands from. No matter what religion or belief system the peoples of the Silvelands practice, almost all of them keep a small piece of silver on the outside of their front door. It is often in the shape of a crescent moon. No one steals this silver. Even the most blackhearted theives would not dare of stealing it. A fence would never dream of taking one in, nor of selling it. Most "Moons" have been passed down through families, rich and poor, for many generations.
Caragane lies on the North-Eastern (location subject to DM needs) edge of the Wolf's Wood. The trees of the great forest mingle with the outskirt houses. The exact border between Caragane and the forest is impossible to pinpoint, one simply melds into another. A significant portion of the Caragane population makes their living around and in the Wood. A great deal of wood is harvested, both timber for construction and fire wood. Any harvesting is done with the blessing of the Wardens (Reznik's parents).
The forest it self is gargantuan. Only one road crosses the dark green expanse. From Caragane it drops down into the wood, skirting a range of wooded hills to the West. It then bends quickly around the southern edge of the hills and follows the Glittering river upstream to Barëndorf. The small trading and fishing town of Barëndorf sits at the Western exit of the Glittering river (and also the road) from the Wolf's Wood. Barëndorf and a brief history of the BarënShow
This small village has a rich place Lycanthrope history. Before human habitation of the Silverlands, Barëndorf was the home of the Barën, or, Bear people. The Barën people were the royalty of the Beasts, if any species could have been considered so. In council, theirs was the deciding vote. The Barën prized contemplative thought and raw strength above all other traits. They were a slow to anger people but once their ire was raised they were a ferocious enemy. Barën lead the charge against humanity when their incursion was deemed a real threat by the council of Beasts. Legends of rampaging bears tearing through men are still told around military campfires, passed down from sergeant to their privates in a time honored tradition. Most think it's simply some sort of parable to the contemplated. Few realize that the legends are primarily truth.
Eventually the newly spawned Werebears re-settled Barënsdorf, probably with guidance from the last remaining Barën. Today the townspeople are entirely werebears. Only those of Were heritage know this. Outsiders would have little to suspect. The people of Barënsdorf all place false silver "Moons" on their doors to present a feeling of normalcy. In the salmon migration seasons of Spring and Fall the town stands mostly empty. The werebears spend an extended amount of time changed during these seasons, fishing the Glittering river. During the winter the town and road are closed in by snowfall. The werebears go into a hibernation like state then, holing up in their stout houses, mainly sleeping.
Reznik is a druid in class name only. The Druid half is the Werewolf. He will never be casting spells. Right now Reznik is almost all Ranger. This is going to change to a more even split as he levels up and his Wolf gets more powerful.
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Bharhas, Level 3 Human, Warlord | Sorcerer Human Power Selection Option: Bonus At-Will power Languages: Common, Elven Theme: Gladiator
CURRENT STATUS: Phase of the Sun: *At the start of your turn, each enemy adjacent to you takes fire and radiant damage equal to your Strength modifier. *You also gain resist 5 cold.
VITALS AC: 18 Fort: 18 Ref: 15 Will: 17 HP: 40/40
Surges: 6/6 Surge Value: 10
Initiative: +1 Speed: 6
CURRENT ABILITY SCORES STR 18, CON 10, DEX 11, INT 10, WIS 8, CHA 17
Background: Student of Callanar (+2 History) AlchemistShow
Alchemist 1st Level Feature: You gain the Alchemist feat as a bonus feat. you know the formula for a particular 1st level alchemical item (such as alchemist's fire). You can use this formula without needing training in any skill associated with it. At the end of a short rest, you can create one alchemical item of your level or lower at no cost. You must know the formula for the item you create. You can have only one such item prepared at a time.
Ability Scores: +2 Int, +2 Dex Skill Bonus: +2 Arcana, +2 History Eladrin Education: You gain training in one skill of your choice. Eladrin Weapon Proficiency: You gain proficiency in the long sword. Eladrin Will: You gain a +1 racial bonus to Will and a +5 bonus to save vs. charm effects. ?Fey Origin: Your ancestors were native to the Feywild.? Fey Step: See Powers Trance: Rather than sleep, you enter a mditative state known as trance. You need to spend 4 hours in this state to gain the same benfits other races gain from a 6-hour extended rest. While in a trance you fully aware of your surroundings and notice approaching enemies and other events as normal.
Arcane Leader Defenses: +1 Fort, +1 Will Proficiencies: Cloth, Leather, Simple melee, Simple ranged, rods, staffs, wands. Arcane Empowerment: You can empower a magic item once per day plus one per milestone reached. You must spend a short rest with an item to empower it. Any item can only be empowered once per day. a) Augment Energy. Lasts until expended or after an extended rest. The wielder or the weapon or implement can expend the augment for +2 to an attack roll after making it. b) Impact Energy. You recharge the daily power of a magic item. Arcane Rejuvenation: Before combat, an artificer spnds tim infusing his or her allies' magic items with curative energy. Whenever an ally uses a magic item's daily power, that ally gains 4 (1/2 lvl + Int) THP. Healing Infusions: At the end of an extended rest, you create two infusions. Determine effect when you use either Curative Admixture or Shielding Elixer. During a short rest, you or any ally can spend a healing surge to replenish one of the infusions expended. Ritual Casting: You gain ritual caster as a bonus feat. You own a ritual book and it contains th following rituals that you have mastered: Brw Potion, Disenchant Magic Item, Enchant Magic Item and Make Whole. In addition, you can use Disenchant Magic Item without expending components.
Ritual Caster (Class Feature/ PH): You can master and perform rituals of your level or lower. Alchemist (Theme Feartue / Dragon #399): you can make alchemical items of your level or lower. You must have the correct formula and training in an appropriate skill. *Currently not usable, need an alchemy case or workshop* Arcane Trapsmith (1st / Dragon #403): You can use your Intelligence mod. instead of Dex. when making Thievery checks to disable traps or open locks. You gain a +4 feat bonus to Arcana checks related to traps or hazards.
Standard Keywords: Arcane, Weapon MBA: Longsword. +2 vs AC, 1d8-1 damage. RBA: Crossbow +3 vs AC. 1d8+1, 15/30. Standard Attack Bonus: +6 (4 Int, 2 Xbow) Standard Damage: 1d8+4 (Xbow or sword, 4 Int) Conditional Bonuses: +1 prof. bonus if using longsword, +1 damage if using longsword in two hands.
Fey Step
Racial Feature
Curative Admixture
Artificer Feature
Encounter
Teleportion
Encounter(Special)
Arcane
Move Action
Personal
Minor Action
Cl Burst 5
Effect: Teleport up to 5 sq.
Target You or one ally in burst
Effect: Target regains HP equal to its surge value +2 (Wis).
Special:1/round, 2/encounter, recharge during a rest w/ a surge.
Shielding Elixir
Artificr Feature
Magic Weapon
Artficer Attack 1
Encounter (Special)
Arcane
At-will
Std. Keywords
Minor Action
Cl Bst 5
Standard
M or R Weap.
Target: You or one ally in burst
Target: 1 creature
+7 vs AC
Effect: Target gains resist 5 to one of cold, fire, force, lightning, necrotic, poison, radiant or thunder until end of the Enc. The target can end the bonus to become immune to that damage typ until EoHnT.
Hit: 1d8 +4 damage and each ally adj. to you gains +1 (pow.) to Atk and +2 (pow.) to Dam until EoynT.
Special:1/round, 2/encounter, recharge during a rest w/ a surge.
Aggravating Force
Artificer Attack 1
Spike Wire
Artificer Attack 1
At-will
Force, Std. Keywords
Encounter
Force, Arcane, Implement
Standard
M or R Weap.
Standard
Ranged 10
Target 1 creature
+6 vs AC
Target: 1 creature
+4 vs Fort.
Hit: 1d8 +4 force damage and the next ally to attack the target before EoynT gains +2 (pow.) to the attack roll.
Hit: 1d8 + 4 force damage and until the EoynT, any attack on the target deals +2 (Wis) extra damage.
Life-Tapping Darts
Artificer Attack 1
Power Name
Class Attack Lvl
Daily
Arcane, Implment
Frequency
Std. Keywords
Standard Action
Range 10
Action
Range
Target 1 creature
+4 vs Reflex
Target/Trigger
Str vs AC
Hit: 2d10 +4 damage and one ally w/in 10 sq. of you gains 10 THP.
Hit:
Miss: 1/2 damage and one ally w/in 10 sq. gains 5 THP.
Lvl 1. Exploration. Time: 10 min. Component Cost: 20% of item's cost. Arcana (no check). Duration: permanent. A single object that can fit in a 10 ft. cube is completely repaired.
Formulas: Alchemist's Fire.
Lvl 1. Volatile. Time: 30 min. Component Cost: 20 gp. Key Skill: Arcana or Thievery (no check). Creates a small flask of explosvie flame (see below).
Brew Potion
Lvl 1. Creation. Time: 1 hr. Component Cost: special. Key Skill: Arcana. You create a common potion or elixir of your level or lower. Cost equals the price of the potion or elixir. (only Cure Light Wounds is available)
Enchant Magic Item
Lvl 4. Creation. Time: 1 hr. Component Cost: special. Key Skill: Arcana Touch a normal item and turn it into a magic item of your level or lower. Cost equals the price of the item you create. You can upgrade rare to common items to more powerful versions, 5 levels higher, cost equals difference in gp value. You can us this ritual to resize magic armor, there is no cost for this use.
Disenchant Magic item
Lvl 6. Creation. Time 1hr. Component Cost: 0 (see features). Key Skill: Arcana Destroys a magic item of your level or lower (if rare or more common). Returns residuum in % of item's gp value: common - 20%, uncommon - 50%, rare - 100%
Alchemist's Fire (lvl 1): Fire, Consumable (Standard Action).
Area burst 1 R10, +4 vs Reflex. Hit: 1d6 fire damage. Miss: 1/2 damage.
Leather Armor - +2 AC (25 gp, 15 lb) Crossbow - simple, 2H ranged 15/30. +2 prof., 1d8 damage, load minor, (25 gp, 4 lbs) Crossbow Bolts (1 gp, 2 lbs, 20 bolts) Longsword - military 1H melee. +3 prof. 1d8 damage, versatile heavy blade (15 gp, 4 lbs) Backpack (2 gp, 2 lb) Ritual Book (50 gp waived, 3 lb) Trail Rations - 10 days (5 gp, 10 lb) Waterskin (1 gp, 4 lb) Candles - 10 (10 cp, neg.) Bedroll (1 sp, 5 lb) Belt Pouch (1 gp, 0.5 lb) Flint and steel (1 gp, neg.) Thieve's Tools - +2 to open a lock or disable a trap. (20 gp, 1 lb) Basic Clothing
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 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.
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."
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.
Olven is the ancient language of the first natives of the Silverlands. Arcane scholars use it for taxonomic classification and rituals, since it is generally thought to be dead.
I just realized I never put in the reflavoring I had in mind for some of Belen's powers. Is it alright if I change that?
Go right ahead. I would also ask at this time that anyone who has not yet made Combat Stat Block to do so. If anyone does not know what that is, feel free to ask.
"I don't like X, they should remove it." "I like X, they should keep it." "They should replace X with Y." "Anybody that likes X is dumb. Y is better." "Why don't they include both X and Y." "Yeah, everybody can be happy then!" "But I don't like X, they should remove it." "X really needs to be replaced with Y." "But they can include both X and Y." "But I don't like X, they need to remove it." "Remove X, I don't like it."
Until you've had an in-law tell you your choice of game was stupid, and just Warcraft on paper, and dumbed down for dumber players who can't handle a real RPG, you haven't lived.
Lady and gentlemen.... I present to you the Edition War without Contrition, the War of the Web, the Mighty Match-up!
We're using standard edition war rules. No posts of substance. Do not read the other person's posts with comprehension. Make frequent comparison to video games, MMOs, and CCGs. Use the words "fallacy" and "straw man", incorrectly and often. Passive aggressiveness gets you extra points and asking misleading and inflammatory questions is mandatory. If you're getting tired, just declare victory and leave the thread. Wait for the buzzer... and....
One, two, three, four, I declare Edition War Five, six, seven eight, I use the web to
D&D should not return to the days of blindfolding the DM and players. No tips on encounter power? No mention of expected party roles? No true meaning of level due to different level charts or tiered classes? Please, let's not sacrifice clear, helpful rules guidelines in favour of catering to the delicate sensibilities of the few who have problems with the ascetics of anything other than what they are familiar with.
Just a quick note on the MMORPG as an insult comparison...
MMORPGs, raking in money by the dumptruck full. Many options, tons of fans across many audiences, massive resources allocated to development.
TTRPGs, dying product. Squeaking out an existence that relys on low cost. Fans fit primarily into a few small demographics. R&D budgets small, often rushed to market and patched after deployment.
You're not really making much of an argument when you compare something to a MMORPG and assume people think that means bad. Lets face it, they make the money, have the audience and the budget. We here on this board are fans of TTRPGs but lets not try to pretend none of us play MMORPGs.
Something like Tactical Shift is more magical than martial healing.
Telling someone to move over a few feet is magical now? :|
I weep for this generation.
Given the laziness and morbid obsesity amongst D&Ders, being able to convince someone to get on their feet, do some heavy exercise, and use their words to make them be healthier must seem magical.
