A new current pulled at the souls imprisoned beneath the arena. Cold Hands could sense the change. The guards talked less. They moved more. And when they spoke it was in hurried whispers amongst themselves or loud shouts accompanied by the piercing crack of whips. The cold stone of her cell pleased her. The darkness that surrounded her sharpened her senses. And hunger filled her stomach with gentle expectation.
Panicked prayer. Screams of rage. Futile struggling. Cold Hands listened. She allowed the feelings to flow through her. She did not retreat. She did not withdraw. She chooses acceptance. She welcomes the rolling waves of suffering that come crashing over her.
Her breathe was slow, a rhythmic inhale and then exhale. Sitting with her legs tucked beneath her, Cold Hands contemplated the parable of the Bitter Wind. She thought of the Unsmiling One and her lips moved in silent recollection.
My feet stand upon the frozen waters.
The cold wind cuts across my heart.
And I strike with fists shaped by despair.
The slavers presumed she merely waited. They could not see her preparation. They thought the metal bars would keep her. They hoped the heavy chains would bind her. They had already forgotten what she had told them.
I know, I initially envisioned Feras as a peacekeeeper of sorts, keeping the most volatile members of the group from killing each other and on mission. Now I think he's more likely just to hide in the back and hope no one notices him when the rest of the team start murdering each other.
The party needs some level of humanity to hold the real monsters back or at the very least someone who won't trigger the "UNSPEAKABLE EVIL" alarm bells from ringing. :D
I'm really digging the cast, I think Sariel is going to be very curious about @A Lowly Wretch's Gangraena. An ancient undead of a mysterious origin, fueled by dark energies even more ancient and mysterious would seem to be almost incomparably interesting to a necromancer.
Weaves and Cian seem like other characters Sariel will be by default interested in conversing with or politely studying. With that being said, everyone has provided a lot of material to work with, so I can easily think of so many ways to have Sariel interact with the others.
Furthermore, the fear or dislike of magic in the party is going to be very fun to explore. :D
I'm not sure if it worked out, but I tried to string together some in character style passages for the background section.
"Unhappy rumors have reached my ears, Aldhelm. They say a darkness hangs over the High Fells of Valandor. I pray that you have returned to us now to dispel such fearful tales."
Bowing down on his left knee as he entered the room, Aldhelm rose with greater difficulty, feeling his many years as he slowly stood up. He was no longer a young man. It had been fifty years since he had arrived in the Spired City. He had fought and defeated great evils. The faded scars and old injuries earned from such deeds were plain for all to see. He was a hero in Talcus, Aldhelm knew, for all the good it did him.
He had been richly rewarded for his services to the kingdom. He had risen to highest echelons of society. He had a title. He had lands. He dined with the nobility. He spoke with members of the royal family. He had more servants than he could count. He had a cadre of apprentices learning under his careful tutelage. And he slept in a luxurious bed. Such rich rewards had to be safeguarded by continued service, he knew, but it did not diminish the weariness he felt deep in his bones. Leaning heavily on his staff, Aldhelm collected his thoughts, consider how best to begin.
"I bring grim news, my lord Baron, there is a dark presence that dwells in the tomb of Adgyth Mara, a sorcerer who can summon the undead, a necromancer."
Loud gasps escaped from the court scattered in groups across the great hall and the Baron raised a calming hand, smiling good-naturedly as he beckoned for order to be restored.
"My old friend, surely you jest, perhaps this spellcaster is simply a maleficent conjurer, a charlatan dabbling in black magic in order to frighten the wretched people."
"There have been sightings of large groups of undead, moving across Thalore. To what end, we do not yet know. However, it is only a matter of time before this foul creature, this baleful necromancer, assembles an army of undead and moves to threaten the nearby settlements."
"What do you suggest?"
"We must act, your grace. We must secure the silver mines of Umeth. The King would be most displeased if the supply of silver was interrupted."
"Of course," the baron agreed, nodding sagely. "And of the necromancer?"
"Forgive me, my lord, but I have already taken the liberty of dispatching Inquisitor Nelriel and her company. I did not wish to trouble you with such minor details."
"Inquisitor Nelriel? Heartening news, indeed!" the baron proclaimed with a smile, to a smattering of cheers and clapping hands,"Why, I almost feel sorry for this pitiful necromancer."
"Just so," Aldhelm said, returning the board smile.
"What do they call you?"
"Cefrey."
"I see."
"Who sent you? Oh, don’t bother. I know you did not come here by your own accord."
Cefrey hesitated. There was subtle violence in the soft words of the stranger and Cefrey knew she did not have much time,"Aldhelm the Bright Handed"
"I know him."
"You cannot."
"Oh, why not? He knew my master. He was ever a friend of Taman Hakothi in those distant days," the robed figure said, taking a slow step forward, her cold blue eyes filling Cefrey with inescapable dread.
"Stay back! Don’t come any closer!" Cefrey stammered, pressing her back against the ice covered stone of the tomb, pointing the tip of her blade at the other speaker. "What do you want?"
A faint look of amusement crossed the pale elf’s face, "To talk, nothing more. I wish to know why old Aldhelm sends assassins to invade my home."
Cefrey tried to stay calm. She tried to think. She was cornered, surrounded by a host of undead, bristling with weapons and armor. They had lost Kalli to a trap as they entered the second level of the tomb. Brem had fallen to a hail of arrows not long after. The cleric accompanying them, Cesvel, had burned when he tried to rebuke the approaching undead. Nelriel had told her to run, screaming as an axe split her skull open. It had been a trap. Their spells had failed them. Their wards had been useless. The Necromancer had been ready. And Aldhelm had been wrong.
"Where is Vladislak? What have you done with him?" She meekly managed, her blade growing heavy in her hand and beginning to shake.
"Your friend is dead. Like the others that came with you."
"Why?"
"Do not ask foolish questions. You came here to kill me. Did you think that I would not defend myself? Your friend chose his fate. And now you may choose yours."
"Please…"
The crypt echoed with the loud clatter and clank of metal as the expressionless skeletons closed in on Cefrey, holding their weapons ready.
"No, stop that," the necromancer commanded,"Do not do that. Do not beg. You had a choice. You always have a choice."
Inquisitor Tessele clasped her hands together offering a quick prayer, before she lit the votive candle sitting on the battered wooden table in front of her. Brilliant light shaped by her divine magic began to spread across the room, driving away the darkness that surrounded her. She felt a pang of sorrow as she studied the figure chained to the chair across from her. Dipping the tip of her quill in ink, she began to write in a careful hand.
"State your name, wizard, so that it may formally be recorded."
"You know my name."
Tessele smashed her first into the table, unwelcome flames of anger erupting in her bosom as her voice rose, "I will not ask you again, state your name, prisoner."
The reply came slower than the first, each syllable carefully delivered, "You know my name. You know me."
Unwelcome, painful silence followed, until unable to stand it any longer, Tessele spoke in a mournful tone,"You are Sariel, Sariel Amastacia."
"Indeed, I am Sariel Amastacia."
"So there you sit, chained, and left to languish in the darkness."
"I have no need for the light."
"They always say that."
"You waste my time."
"Your time is mine to waste."
"So you say," the shackled elf agreed.
"You subverted an agent of the crown. You had her murder a court wizard."
"I repaid Aldhelm for his poor manners and for his foolishness. The assassin…well, I gave her a choice. It would seem she found undeath preferable to death. Have you captured her?"
Tessele chose not to reply, pursing her lips in unbidden anger.
"Aha, now that is interesting. What will your superiors say? A wight on the loose in Talcus. I doubt they will be very pleased."
"Where is she?"
"In truth, I do not know. She is no longer bound to me. Her geas ended when she killed Aldhelm as I promised her when we struck our bargain."
"You released a wight in the city? To what end?"
The necromancer seemed to study Tessele with a pitying look before she spoke, "A wight is no lesser undead. She retained the memories of her life. Her personality was untouched. She possessed free will. I am not cruel. I have little desire to enslave sentient creatures."
"Such kindness," Tessele hissed, "And yet, you summoned an army of undead, razing the town of Camor to the ground. One hundred innocent souls, lost in one night."
"An accurate count, by my measure, but they were not slain by my hand alone."
"You deny it then?"
"It was not my intention to fight in the town. Unfortunately, your soldiers did not share my apprehensions about conducting a battle among the peasantry."
"Do you regret nothing?"
"What is there to regret, Tessele? I offered them a way out. I simply wanted to be left alone. The tombs were not theirs to claim. My home was not theirs to sully. And my work was not theirs to interrupt."
"You blame us for the slaughter?"
"What reason is there to lie?"
"You killed innocents. You killed the King’s men. You killed servants of the Holy Sun."
"Your clerics, your paladins, and your crusaders killed themselves with their own foolishness. I offer no apology for the deaths of the wicked."
"Wicked! They were good, kind souls devoted to the one true faith-"
"Oh, kill me now! But spare me this ridiculous story. You sent killers. You sent evil men. Their faith will not absolve them from their deeds. The righteous dead feast on their souls this day! I promise you that. I have but to listen and I can hear the screams of your soldiers. And I can hear the laughter of their countless victims rising louder still."
"You are the monster they said you were. I had vainly hoped that they might be wrong."
"There was no mistake."
Tessele’s voice wavered, her hands balling into tight fists, "I thought you lost, Sariel. I thought you were dead. After the battle of Eliorin. I looked for you. I looked for you for weeks. I searched for your body. And I found nothing."
"I was never lost," the wizard interrupted, seemingly unmoved.
"Where did you go?"
"To the East, beyond the narrow sea. I sought out the masters of magic, the great wizards of the forgotten ages. The ancient undead hidden from your prying eyes and shielded from your violence."
"You found them then, the hateful liches still remaining?"
"They are not so hateful, at least when you are polite."
"We heard stories about a great disaster befalling the lands of Thalore. It was said that the people had fallen into the hands of a Necromancer."
"It was peaceful, before you came."
"You consort with the undead. You damn you very soul, Sariel, there is no peace in that!"
The wizard leaned forward, placing a skeletal hand over Tessele’s before the inquisitor had time to pull back.
"Tessele, there is only fear in your words. You do not see. You do not listen. You do not understand. You are blinded by the light. You are deafened by the thunder of your new faith."
"You are halfway in the grave and you speak like that!" Tessele shouted, almost jumping back as she withdrew her hand, sending the candle clattering to the floor. She pointed at the wizard's skeletal arm,"Look at yourself, Sariel! You are dying, you are turning into a monster."
"If I have changed, then it is only for the better."
"You have traded your flesh. You have bartered away your soul. And for what? Unholy magic?"
"This?" the necromancer scoffed, raising her skeletal arm. "That arm was a small price to pay for knowledge."
Otherwise, I am just excited to see more of the cast of characters and also where this goes in character.
A high elf, touched by the slow beginnings of undeath, Sariel is said to have been cursed by her close association with the undead. Her skin is pale, her hair midnight, and her eyes seem almost to glow with a cold, baleful blue light. Hidden beneath a layer of fabric, her right arm is skeletal, and moves through arcane means.
The light of the elves has begun to fade from her being. Warm joy now turning to cool detachment. Sariel moves no longer with the effortless grace of her people, but with the ghostly agility of the undead. Her visage has become that of a fell apparition, conjured from the depths of some long forgotten tomb.
Personality
Sariel is a creature driven by her singular obsession with understanding the cosmic forces of life, death and undeath. Marked by her studies, her emotions have been tempered by the wisdom of the grave. She feels all that she once did, but she notes a growing detachment in her passions and a cold chill that has begun to envelope her soul.
Far from menacing in most situations, Sariel is polite, kind even, if permitted such graces by the situation or those she encounters. She knows that many fear her. She knows that many revile her. She holds little hope for reconciliation. The Maw is proof enough of the paltry mercy offered by the kingdom. Sariel does not deceive herself. She sees no advantage in such desperate deception. They will not free her, all know this to be true, but the dead counsel her to be patient, and Sariel intends to heed their whispers.
Imprisonment has done little to dampen her confidence. However, Sariel remains far from reckless and the dark, damp cell in which they have left her has only sent her gaze further inwards. Even in the Maw there are dead to speak to. They can take her arcane components. They can take her possessions. And they can take her beloved grimoire. Sariel does not dispute this. Yet, a wizard, a necromancer, a true seeker of the truths that lie beyond death itself cannot be so easily dissuaded.
In happier times, Sariel was disagreeable only when faced with the ignorant and those quick to judge her for her vocation, reviled as it is across the land. For all her differences with her kin, she still possesses the storied charm of the elves, transformed as it has been into the dread presence of the grave. She navigates social interactions in the Maw with unexpected ease for a wizard with a habit of engaging in lengthy conversations with the dead.
Uninterested in tradition wreathed in ceremonial judgment, Sariel is unconcerned with the social mores and taboos that would restrict her practice of necromancy. In turn, she would happily offer others the same freedom and keeps an open mind.
Background
"Unhappy rumors have reached my ears, Aldhelm. They say a darkness hangs over the High Fells of Valandor. I pray that you have returned to us now to dispel such fearful tales."
Bowing down on his left knee as he entered the room, Aldhelm rose with greater difficulty, feeling his many years as he slowly stood up. He was no longer a young man. It had been fifty years since he had arrived in the Spired City. He had fought and defeated great evils. The faded scars and old injuries earned from such deeds were plain for all to see. He was a hero in Talcus, Aldhelm knew, for all the good it did him.
He had been richly rewarded for his services to the kingdom. He had risen to highest echelons of society. He had a title. He had lands. He dined with the nobility. He spoke with members of the royal family. He had more servants than he could count. He had a cadre of apprentices learning under his careful tutelage. And he slept in a luxurious bed. Such rich rewards had to be safeguarded by continued service, he knew, but it did not diminish the weariness he felt deep in his bones. Leaning heavily on his staff, Aldhelm collected his thoughts, consider how best to begin.
"I bring grim news, my lord Baron, there is a dark presence that dwells in the tomb of Adgyth Mara, a sorcerer who can summon the undead, a necromancer."
Loud gasps escaped from the court scattered in groups across the great hall and the Baron raised a calming hand, smiling good-naturedly as he beckoned for order to be restored.
"My old friend, surely you jest, perhaps this spellcaster is simply a maleficent conjurer, a charlatan dabbling in black magic in order to frighten the wretched people."
"There have been sightings of large groups of undead, moving across Thalore. To what end, we do not yet know. However, it is only a matter of time before this foul creature, this baleful necromancer, assembles an army of undead and moves to threaten the nearby settlements."
"What do you suggest?"
"We must act, your grace. We must secure the silver mines of Umeth. The King would be most displeased if the supply of silver was interrupted."
"Of course," the baron agreed, nodding sagely. "And of the necromancer?"
"Forgive me, my lord, but I have already taken the liberty of dispatching Inquisitor Nelriel and her company. I did not wish to trouble you with such minor details."
"Inquisitor Nelriel? Heartening news, indeed!" the baron proclaimed with a smile, to a smattering of cheers and clapping hands,"Why, I almost feel sorry for this pitiful necromancer."
"Just so," Aldhelm said, returning the board smile.
"What do they call you?"
"Cefrey."
"I see."
"Who sent you? Oh, don’t bother. I know you did not come here by your own accord."
Cefrey hesitated. There was subtle violence in the soft words of the stranger and Cefrey knew she did not have much time,"Aldhelm the Bright Handed"
"I know him."
"You cannot."
"Oh, why not? He knew my master. He was ever a friend of Taman Hakothi in those distant days," the robed figure said, taking a slow step forward, her cold blue eyes filling Cefrey with inescapable dread.
"Stay back! Don’t come any closer!" Cefrey stammered, pressing her back against the ice covered stone of the tomb, pointing the tip of her blade at the other speaker. "What do you want?"
A faint look of amusement crossed the pale elf’s face, "To talk, nothing more. I wish to know why old Aldhelm sends assassins to invade my home."
Cefrey tried to stay calm. She tried to think. She was cornered, surrounded by a host of undead, bristling with weapons and armor. They had lost Kalli to a trap as they entered the second level of the tomb. Brem had fallen to a hail of arrows not long after. The cleric accompanying them, Cesvel, had burned when he tried to rebuke the approaching undead. Nelriel had told her to run, screaming as an axe split her skull open. It had been a trap. Their spells had failed them. Their wards had been useless. The Necromancer had been ready. And Aldhelm had been wrong.
"Where is Vladislak? What have you done with him?" She meekly managed, her blade growing heavy in her hand and beginning to shake.
"Your friend is dead. Like the others that came with you."
"Why?"
"Do not ask foolish questions. You came here to kill me. Did you think that I would not defend myself? Your friend chose his fate. And now you may choose yours."
"Please…"
The crypt echoed with the loud clatter and clank of metal as the expressionless skeletons closed in on Cefrey, holding their weapons ready.
"No, stop that," the necromancer commanded,"Do not do that. Do not beg. You had a choice. You always have a choice."
Inquisitor Tessele clasped her hands together offering a quick prayer, before she lit the votive candle sitting on the battered wooden table in front of her. Brilliant light shaped by her divine magic began to spread across the room, driving away the darkness that surrounded her. She felt a pang of sorrow as she studied the figure chained to the chair across from her. Dipping the tip of her quill in ink, she began to write in a careful hand.
"State your name, wizard, so that it may formally be recorded."
"You know my name."
Tessele smashed her first into the table, unwelcome flames of anger erupting in her bosom as her voice rose, "I will not ask you again, state your name, prisoner."
The reply came slower than the first, each syllable carefully delivered, "You know my name. You know me."
Unwelcome, painful silence followed, until unable to stand it any longer, Tessele spoke in a mournful tone,"You are Sariel, Sariel Amastacia."
"Indeed, I am Sariel Amastacia."
"So there you sit, chained, and left to languish in the darkness."
"I have no need for the light."
"They always say that."
"You waste my time."
"Your time is mine to waste."
"So you say," the shackled elf agreed.
"You subverted an agent of the crown. You had her murder a court wizard."
"I repaid Aldhelm for his poor manners and for his foolishness. The assassin…well, I gave her a choice. It would seem she found undeath preferable to death. Have you captured her?"
Tessele chose not to reply, pursing her lips in unbidden anger.
"Aha, now that is interesting. What will your superiors say? A wight on the loose in Talcus. I doubt they will be very pleased."
"Where is she?"
"In truth, I do not know. She is no longer bound to me. Her geas ended when she killed Aldhelm as I promised her when we struck our bargain."
"You released a wight in the city? To what end?"
The necromancer seemed to study Tessele with a pitying look before she spoke, "A wight is no lesser undead. She retained the memories of her life. Her personality was untouched. She possessed free will. I am not cruel. I have little desire to enslave sentient creatures."
"Such kindness," Tessele hissed, "And yet, you summoned an army of undead, razing the town of Camor to the ground. One hundred innocent souls, lost in one night."
"An accurate count, by my measure, but they were not slain by my hand alone."
"You deny it then?"
"It was not my intention to fight in the town. Unfortunately, your soldiers did not share my apprehensions about conducting a battle among the peasantry."
"Do you regret nothing?"
"What is there to regret, Tessele? I offered them a way out. I simply wanted to be left alone. The tombs were not theirs to claim. My home was not theirs to sully. And my work was not theirs to interrupt."
"You blame us for the slaughter?"
"What reason is there to lie?"
"You killed innocents. You killed the King’s men. You killed servants of the Holy Sun."
"Your clerics, your paladins, and your crusaders killed themselves with their own foolishness. I offer no apology for the deaths of the wicked."
"Wicked! They were good, kind souls devoted to the one true faith-"
"Oh, kill me now! But spare me this ridiculous story. You sent killers. You sent evil men. Their faith will not absolve them from their deeds. The righteous dead feast on their souls this day! I promise you that. I have but to listen and I can hear the screams of your soldiers. And I can hear the laughter of their countless victims rising louder still."
"You are the monster they said you were. I had vainly hoped that they might be wrong."
"There was no mistake."
Tessele’s voice wavered, her hands balling into tight fists, "I thought you lost, Sariel. I thought you were dead. After the battle of Eliorin. I looked for you. I looked for you for weeks. I searched for your body. And I found nothing."
"I was never lost," the wizard interrupted, seemingly unmoved.
"Where did you go?"
"To the East, beyond the narrow sea. I sought out the masters of magic, the great wizards of the forgotten ages. The ancient undead hidden from your prying eyes and shielded from your violence."
"You found them then, the hateful liches still remaining?"
"They are not so hateful, at least when you are polite."
"We heard stories about a great disaster befalling the lands of Thalore. It was said that the people had fallen into the hands of a Necromancer."
"It was peaceful, before you came."
"You consort with the undead. You damn you very soul, Sariel, there is no peace in that!"
The wizard leaned forward, placing a skeletal hand over Tessele’s before the inquisitor had time to pull back.
"Tessele, there is only fear in your words. You do not see. You do not listen. You do not understand. You are blinded by the light. You are deafened by the thunder of your new faith."
"You are halfway in the grave and you speak like that!" Tessele shouted, almost jumping back as she withdrew her hand, sending the candle clattering to the floor. She pointed at the wizard's skeletal arm,"Look at yourself, Sariel! You are dying, you are turning into a monster."
"If I have changed, then it is only for the better."
"You have traded your flesh. You have bartered away your soul. And for what? Unholy magic?"
"This?" the necromancer scoffed, raising her skeletal arm. "That arm was a small price to pay for knowledge."
Talents
Spell Caster with a Capital S - Sariel is no mere hedge wizard, no unstudied practitioner of magic, and no unrestrained spellcaster. No, she is a wizard, a true wizard, a supreme magic-user who draws on the subtle weave of magic that permeates the very cosmos to cast powerful spells.
Necromancer - Sariel is a necromancer, a feared and hated wizard concerned chiefly with mastering the school of necromancy magic. Her spells manipulate the power of death, unlife, and the life force that animates all living creatures.
* Animate Undead - By imbuing a pile of bones or corpse with arcane energy, Sariel can create an undead servant, raising the target as an undead creature in a foul mimicry of life. This is the first act of necromancy expected of any true necromancer. * Summon Undead - Calling forth an undead spirit, Sariel can manifest such a spirit into a corporeal form, creating an undead creature shaped according to her will. * Command Undead - By uttering dread words, Sariel can command those undead creatures unable to resist her demands. * Dark Mending - Channeling hateful necromantic energies, Sariel is able to heal the wounds of the undead and unexpectedly her own, suggesting a growing change in her person. * Deathless Vigor - Years of tireless study have infused Sariel's body with a deathless vigor and she has become something more akin to the undead she once freely kept in her cohort. * Dead Whispers - Searching for answers, Sariel has come to understand the whispers of the dead and is able to speak with them, provided they retain some level of sentience or sanity. * Thrall Boon - She has become acclimated to the undead, strengthening the bond she has with her undead thralls, offering these servants a powerful boon. * Undead Graft - Long before her capture, Sariel grafted a necrotic rune into her right arm, dissolving the flesh from her arm, and leaving behind a skeletal appendage. A mere touch from her right arm can siphon the life force of others, bolstering her own health, dealing necrotic damage, and even paralyzing those unfortunate enough to be trapped in her cold grip.
Arcane Scholar - Deeply concerned with the underlying mechanics and nature of magic, Sariel is an ardent student of the arcane. She seeks to uncover arcane secrets through extensive studies, even trapped as she currently is in the hellish pit of the Maw. Steeped in the writings of mages past and the cryptic advice of the undead, Sariel possesses an extensive knowledge of arcane lore and history of the realm.
Flaws
Necromancer's Stubborn Pride - Sariel is prideful, convinced of her own righteousness, how else could she wander a path that most perceive as leading only to inescapable damnation? Her pursuit of arcane knowledge has grown beyond mere obsession and Sariel is unwilling, perhaps unable, to consider the dangers inherent to such unwavering single-mindedness.
Undead Torpor - At times, Sariel appears to be wracked by the apathy often identified in the spirits of the dead. The concerns of the living no longer seem quite as important to her. The petty squabbles and bloody wars of the narrow-minded now seem beneath her enlightened mind. Even death has begun to feel like an old, familiar friend, rather than something she should be afraid of. Rousing Sariel from such musings and moods can require significant effort.
Still Human - Besides a skeletal arm and her slow transformation into something undead, Sariel remains distinctly mortal, a noticeable disadvantage when compared to some of the other prisoners in the Maw.
Equipment
Taken from her when they tossed her into the Maw, Sariel's arcane grimoire contains the culmination of her study of necromancy. It is no exaggeration to say that Sariel would do anything to recover her ancient tome. She can see the silver ruins inlaid into the black leather cover in her dreams.
Another of her prized possession lost to her jailers was a bag of holding containing a number of arcane components and small items of comfort.
Predictably, her guards also took away her ornate silver dagger, an enchanted blade that courses with the souls of more than one willing sacrifice.
Her final piece of confiscated property is a long robe, a gift from a patient demilich amused by her questions. An elegant garment made from exquisite black cloth, woven into the robe are protective magics far beyond mortal understanding.
I had some free time earlier than expected so did some more editing (mostly I really enjoyed how others had broken up their talents a bit so I wanted to do the same).
I will probably have a character sheet up today or tomorrow, I went a bit off the rails and I am essentially writing three character sheets, but I wanted to commit hard to the idea of a Changeling juggling personas.
There could be some juicy backstory ties with some other characters. What if my guy is one of the people who helped the Kingdom catch you and lock you up?
Insert *first time? gif* here.
At risk of being too far ahead, I personally would love this.
I think the rules make sense, no need, imo, to go crazy (RPing is always based on a lot of trust and good communication in the end).
I think the heuristic of "don't break the story" is a good one and I'm always very much in the "don't RP other people's characters for them" camp. To my mind there's always a degree of few people caring if you delete a minor NPC, but obviously don't have your character knock out a someone important in one punch without a good setup.
Updated my character sheet a bit, I think it needs a good edit after some sleep, but hopefully the vibe is good.
Mole
Ravion the Red
shylarah
Bork
Starlance
