A thick, withe smoke was carried by the morning breeze along the dirt road that passed the sparsely forested hills, bringing with it a strong cherry aroma. The trail of dissipating smoke could be followed to a small camp just off the road. There a dwarf was laying on his back, letting out rings of dense smoke from under his thick, black mustache. An extinguished campfire, no longer emanating any traces of heat was a few feet from Fognar. The tobacco in his pipe was all burnt up and he threw the residue in the ash of the campfire : " Guess it's time to go... " Fognar was used to talking alone, from the time that Yeena spoke to him : " Oh, my dear, how I miss the hours we spent together, talking nonsense for so long... " He had not heard it's voice in years, but he knew it was there. He could feel it, deep inside...
Fognar grabbed his backpack and swung it on his back, then took up his mace and wondered off towards the road, leaving the site of the camp as it was, for any future travelers. Birds chanted above his head and rabbits hopped along with him on the nearby hills as Fognar slowly walked along the road. He liked it in the south of Garrn, warm weather, peaceful surroundings, even at night, small, welcoming towns and farming villages, nothing like the bustling cities in the northern parts, filled with garbage, beggars, thieves and shabby pubs or the mountains in which Fognar started his journey, filled with wild, horrifying beasts and the occasional tribe of hostile, uncivilized orcs or goblins : " I quite like this place ya'know ? I think this would be the perfect place to stay if we were ever to settle down. "
Carrying on like that Fognar spent half the day, talking alone and enjoying the peace and the playful sound of nature around him. The sun shone bright in the middle of the clear, bright sky when he reached the small town that was at the end of the road, at least from what he remembered from the map he had seen in the last settled place he slept in : " We ought to buy a map of our own someday soon, otherwise we might end up as lost as that time in the mountains of Plancti Roshan " From the hill overlooking the town he could see the outlying farms, all with a moderate amount of land attributed, none too poor and none too rich, a paradise for many it seemed.
As he hurried up the pace downhill he saw the many farmers, some working their fields, some resting in the cool shadow and some bringing goods to town, most likely to sell in the market. Looking the people in the eyes Fognar did not see a trace of sorrow, or anger, only content men and women who lived their lives as they knew and enjoyed it. Walking into town the atmosphere became a bit more crowded and the smell of bodily odors, combined with the one of fresh fruits and vegetables hit Fognar's nose. He walked straight into the market. It was a small one, nothing like the large markets he had seen, with wares so diverse, the king himself would not have enough money to buy them all, or find a use for every one of them. This one was small and the most exotic thing sold here were steel arrows and a wooden bow.
As Fognar was looking around a rather young man called : " 'Ello there ser dwarf ! Never seen you 'round these parts before ! Care for a fresh apple ? As sweet and juicy as you've ever tasted. " The lad was barely in his twenties, maybe even younger and Fognar hadn't tasted an apple for so long even he forgot about it : " How much for one ? " said he, smiling. The boy returned the smile and handed the approaching dwarf one of the largest apples he could find in the bunch : " First one's free ser. Just taste it ! " As Fognar took a bite the bitter-sweet taste flooded his mouth. It was almost heavenly : " Damn fine apples you have here ! Give me a few ! " The boy give him some 4 apples and was paid with a few coins : " Do you mind telling me if there is any place in this town where I can rent a room ? Or at least a bed ? Also, would you care to inform me of any work around here that might suit a wandering dwarf like me ? The young man listened carefully : " You'll want the tavern for rooms ser. Right over there ! " He pointed towards a wooden, two-floor building with a sign above it : " And for work you should check one of the message boards around town. There's one right there in front of the tavern. "
Satisfied with the answers he was given Fognar thanked the lad and carried on towards the tavern, one already half-eaten apple in his hand, the others put inside his backpack. He stopped before the message board and looked at the few messages that were nailed on it : " Old Man John needs help with a rodent problem at his farm; payment : 15 coins " Fognar chuckled a bit : " No thank you ! Let's see... " His eyes strolled through other messages of the like before he found a suitable job : " Warning : Dangerous ! Local beast known to eat livestock and even kill a couple of hunters in the nearby woods. Able-bodied men required. Payment : 1000 coins "
Fognar was surprised : " 1000 bloody coins ?! I'll be damn rich if i pull this off ! " Of course, he underestimated the view these people had on " dangerous beasts ". He thought that it was an oversized bear, probably with cubs.
With a large smile on his face Fognar opened the tavern door, instantly filling his ears with large amounts of noise. The tavern was surprisingly full for the size of the town and what surprised him most was seeing a " half-drake ", as he is used to calling draconians playing cards at a table. He did not mind him and proceeded towards the bar. The barkeep was a short robust man, no doubt human, even though he did look a bit like an overfed dwarf who called to him : " Oh, a dwarf ! Haven't seen one of your kind in these parts in years. What would you like ? " Fognar inspected the barkeep with his eyes then ordered a mug of the best ale they had and sat down at one of the few unoccupied tables : " I'd also like a room for a few nights, if you have one ! " The barkeep hurried up with the ale and although it was served in a chipped and frequently used mug it was of pretty good quality : " Oh, we certainly have a room, a few even. How long do you wish to stay ? " After a drink from the mug and a bit of thinking Fognar decided three days should be good. He paid the room and the ale, which left him with about enough for a few more drinks and, maybe, another night in here, and started drinking.
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So, why don't we start this one out ?
Well an epic adventure requires epic opening posts right ?
Better ? I hope no more confusion is brought by this subject, as it certainly managed to confuse me. A lot.
Thanks for the " Just do this for God's sake ! " explanation. I needed it. Also many thanks to Andion for suggestions. I'll be editing in the next few minutes.
Name : Fognar Longebeard
Race : Dwarf
Age : 37
Sex : Male
Skills : Axe-wielding, Bargaining, Drinking, Brawling
Appearance :
History : Born in one of the many families under The Black Mountains, Fognar lived the life of any upcoming warrior that would bring fame to his home as soon as his training was done. It was harsh, living as a dwarven soldier : long training hours, harsh commanders, a small number of short pauses. He did not like any of it but it isn't like he had a choice. Fognar was among the less obedient, and apparently less capable pupils. In truth he was not incapable of becoming a warrior, he just did not want it. He wanted a longer, quieter life, perhaps the one of a merchant. This all led to mockery and ridicule from his other peers. A " good-for-nothing " they called him : " What honor would you bring to us dwarves as a damned merchant ?! You'll probably end up as a beggar in Thereatin ! " The commander told him this in front of everyone else, and that remained as a nickname : beggar.
It infuriated Fognar. He wanted to prove that it was not true, that he was capable, even more capable then the best of students, and he tried, but in vain. As hard as he worked, as much as he learned in the art of warfare he remained " The Beggar " in everyone's eyes. It nearly drove him mad. Time and time again Fognar was insulted and just as many times he kept his calm, until the evening he was deemed ready to go out of training and in to the world. His hole generation finished training that day, one at a time. In the evening everyone was to be present at the largest tavern in town, a pouch full of gold brought by every one of them. They were supposed to drink all the money they had on them and Fognar knew that not being present would lead to even more ridicule.
He walked in last, after every other dwarf he knew, sat down at an unoccupied table in the corner of the large room and drank as much liquor and ale as he could off the 25 golden coins he had on him. He was never so drunk in his 20 years of life. As he was standing there quietly, drinking from his mug of ale a group of three dwarves came towards him, probably twice as drunk as he was. They were his colleagues just the day before, while they were still in training, the most annoying one was with them. He would mock Fognar any time he had the chance and he did so now aswell : " Beggar ! What are you doing drinking ale ?! You should be drinking piss, like all beggars should ! Would you mind drinking mine ? " As he said this he came close to Fognar and spilled hit his mug of beer, spilling it all over him : " Turn around and go away ! " Fognar demanded : " Or what ? We all know you can't do shite as well as you do. Good-for-nothing ! " Fognar brought his axe with him, as was custom of any dwarf, to bring his weapon along anywhere he goes. All the insults, the spilled ale and the fact that he was drunk infuriated him so much that he let out all the anger that he had built in him in the years before. He grabbed his axe by it's hilt, raised it and swung for one of the dwarves neck. In an instant the dwarf was beheaded and his companions followed. That night Fognar showed everybody that he was capable enough to take down three well-trained dwarves all on his own. The bartender hit Fognar in the head with a chair before any more blood could be spilled and sent him unconscious.
The following morning Fognar woke up behind bars in the town's prison, with a strong headache and a vague memory of what had happened the night before. Slowly he got up from the cold stone on which he slept and started remembering what had happened. Even though he only recalled fragments, Fognar managed to figure out why he was in prison. Murder. He knew the punishment well enough : execution. it had happened before, to his father no less, in similar circumstances. He knew he had to escape.
His mouth was as dry as the air in his cell, but he managed to devise a plan. The guard that had the key to his cell was enjoying a loaf of fresh bread from the outside and a mug of ale , not far from Fognar's cell : " Guard ! I need water ! " Fognar called in the most desperate tone he could conceive : " So ? What am I to do about it ? " The guard responded, seemingly not caring : " I'm so thirsty, I feel like I'll die. Do you want me to die before execution day ? " After giving it some thought, the guard decided it would best to get Fognar some water, just so the blame for his death wouldn't fall on his shoulders. As the guard neared the bars of the cell and handed the bowl full of water to him, Fognar grabbed his hand and pulled with all his strength. He followed up by grabbing the guards head and forcing it face-on against the metal bars. Fognar's strenght was enough to send the guard unconscious and getting the key was rather easy. Through a lot of force, some stealth and a bit of cunning Fognar managed to escape in the open world with his clothes and his axe, still bloody from the night before.
Being outside Fognar headed for Theratin and began freelance mercenary work, as fighting was the only thing he knew, and was rather succesfull in it.
Race : Dwarf
Age : 37
Sex : Male
Skills : Axe-wielding, Bargaining, Drinking, Brawling
Appearance :
History : Born in one of the many families under The Black Mountains, Fognar lived the life of any upcoming warrior that would bring fame to his home as soon as his training was done. It was harsh, living as a dwarven soldier : long training hours, harsh commanders, a small number of short pauses. He did not like any of it but it isn't like he had a choice. Fognar was among the less obedient, and apparently less capable pupils. In truth he was not incapable of becoming a warrior, he just did not want it. He wanted a longer, quieter life, perhaps the one of a merchant. This all led to mockery and ridicule from his other peers. A " good-for-nothing " they called him : " What honor would you bring to us dwarves as a damned merchant ?! You'll probably end up as a beggar in Thereatin ! " The commander told him this in front of everyone else, and that remained as a nickname : beggar.
It infuriated Fognar. He wanted to prove that it was not true, that he was capable, even more capable then the best of students, and he tried, but in vain. As hard as he worked, as much as he learned in the art of warfare he remained " The Beggar " in everyone's eyes. It nearly drove him mad. Time and time again Fognar was insulted and just as many times he kept his calm, until the evening he was deemed ready to go out of training and in to the world. His hole generation finished training that day, one at a time. In the evening everyone was to be present at the largest tavern in town, a pouch full of gold brought by every one of them. They were supposed to drink all the money they had on them and Fognar knew that not being present would lead to even more ridicule.
He walked in last, after every other dwarf he knew, sat down at an unoccupied table in the corner of the large room and drank as much liquor and ale as he could off the 25 golden coins he had on him. He was never so drunk in his 20 years of life. As he was standing there quietly, drinking from his mug of ale a group of three dwarves came towards him, probably twice as drunk as he was. They were his colleagues just the day before, while they were still in training, the most annoying one was with them. He would mock Fognar any time he had the chance and he did so now aswell : " Beggar ! What are you doing drinking ale ?! You should be drinking piss, like all beggars should ! Would you mind drinking mine ? " As he said this he came close to Fognar and spilled hit his mug of beer, spilling it all over him : " Turn around and go away ! " Fognar demanded : " Or what ? We all know you can't do shite as well as you do. Good-for-nothing ! " Fognar brought his axe with him, as was custom of any dwarf, to bring his weapon along anywhere he goes. All the insults, the spilled ale and the fact that he was drunk infuriated him so much that he let out all the anger that he had built in him in the years before. He grabbed his axe by it's hilt, raised it and swung for one of the dwarves neck. In an instant the dwarf was beheaded and his companions followed. That night Fognar showed everybody that he was capable enough to take down three well-trained dwarves all on his own. The bartender hit Fognar in the head with a chair before any more blood could be spilled and sent him unconscious.
The following morning Fognar woke up behind bars in the town's prison, with a strong headache and a vague memory of what had happened the night before. Slowly he got up from the cold stone on which he slept and started remembering what had happened. Even though he only recalled fragments, Fognar managed to figure out why he was in prison. Murder. He knew the punishment well enough : execution. it had happened before, to his father no less, in similar circumstances. He knew he had to escape.
His mouth was as dry as the air in his cell, but he managed to devise a plan. The guard that had the key to his cell was enjoying a loaf of fresh bread from the outside and a mug of ale , not far from Fognar's cell : " Guard ! I need water ! " Fognar called in the most desperate tone he could conceive : " So ? What am I to do about it ? " The guard responded, seemingly not caring : " I'm so thirsty, I feel like I'll die. Do you want me to die before execution day ? " After giving it some thought, the guard decided it would best to get Fognar some water, just so the blame for his death wouldn't fall on his shoulders. As the guard neared the bars of the cell and handed the bowl full of water to him, Fognar grabbed his hand and pulled with all his strength. He followed up by grabbing the guards head and forcing it face-on against the metal bars. Fognar's strenght was enough to send the guard unconscious and getting the key was rather easy. Through a lot of force, some stealth and a bit of cunning Fognar managed to escape in the open world with his clothes and his axe, still bloody from the night before.
Being outside Fognar headed for Theratin and began freelance mercenary work, as fighting was the only thing he knew, and was rather succesfull in it.
So, would a type of evocation-based magic ( from the D&D 3.5 link provided by Andion ) be ok ? Limitations would certainly be needed though. I was asking what exactly too put in the magic field of the CS. From what I've seen in other character sheets nobody actually put what you wrote in the first posts, but rather some spells or their own description. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to put a school of magic in which my character was trained or not.
P.S may transmutation would be better ?
P.S may transmutation would be better ?
I just don't know how to come around it. Put a type of magic, put some spells, and what kind of magic would go well with a spirit... I just don't have anything on magic at all.
Reveal yer'self, hero ! (Image of Character) :
What be yer name, Stranger ? (Name): Fognar One-Legged
Be you a lad or a lass ? (Gender): Male
What be yer lineage ? (Race): Dwarf
What be yer area of expertise ? (Class): Primary : Magician ( Warlock )
Axe or Sword ? (Preferred Weapon[s]): Mace
Adventurer's Kit Contents (Starting Inventory): A Bestiary containing information on most species of creatures on Garrn.
Self-Made concoctions used for healing.
Varied plants and alchemical ingredients.
A book written by himself on alchemical recipes.( Incomplete )
A book written by himself on spells & wizardry.( Incomplete )
Pipe & A small pouch full of tobacco.
What be yer talents ? (Abilities/Skills): Racial Skills : Mountaineering, Appraisal, Boozing, Battle-Ready, Heavy Weapons.
Class Skills : Mysticism, Herbology, Alchemy
Chosen Skills : Ancient History, Legends/Lore, Occult Lore, Bartering, Focus, Camping/Firebuilding
Know ye any spells ? (Magic): Primary Type : Transmutation/Magical alteration of one's own body or the body of others, to a lesser extent and only if they are willing to do so.
Secondary Type : Elemental Abilities - Cold
Tell me yer tale, an' I'll listen (Background): Born in a large dwarven city, Prins was raised as any other dwarven child in a family that wasn't particularly wealthy or particularly poor. His parents were miners, working many days in a row, sometimes even a week, after which returning home for a few days. Young Prins was used to living alone. His parents thought him everything he needed to know : How to cook, where to get food, how not to get fooled by greedy merchants and many other basics. He developed a knack for studying while alone. He would often go to the bookkeeper in the area and spend many hours reading and learning from the books there. He studied many subjects but magic fascinated him the most. Being among dwarves, he had not seen anything like it : being able to shape the world around you with your mind, conjuring flames in your hands and lighting up the way with your eyes... It all seemed marvelous so he began learning.
By the time he was 16, Prins had learned some basic spells and the desire to know more grew in him. It was at this time that his parents first took him to work the mines, just as they had done for so many years. It was backbreaking work, something Prins wasn't accustomed to, but he had to adapt. For two years he worked along with his parents, digging away at a deposit of ore so large that not even his father's father knew when it was discovered. Even though he was warned about the dangers of mining, Prins still worked recklessly and that was about to change everything.
One day as he was swinging his pick down in the mines Prins hit an unusual portion of rock. It was lighter then the surrounding rocks and in square shapes, like bricks in a wall. Curiosity got the better of him before he could call the others and he started swinging at it. It opened up a passage and Prins stepped through, without thinking of the consequences. The passage revealed itself to be an old room, walls made out of square stone bricks. As he looked around a cave-in happened, right where he came in. Now there was no way out.
Scared at first, Prins tried to keep calm and find a way out. He knew his slight understanding of magic could not help him, but it could give some light to the dark room he found himself into. As soon as the arcane light was created a giggle was heard from the dark. It came from a female voice : " Who comes to visit ? Hmm... a dwarf. A mage no less ! How nice of you to come ! " Prins panicked. Nothing could be alive down here, could it ? " You need not be afraid. I wish you no harm. I'm only a poor soul, trapped here, just as you. " the panic in him grew : "... trapped... " that meant there was no way out. He was not ready to die, there was still so much to see, so much to do, so much to learn... " Tell you what mage. " The spirit spoke again : " I know of a way out, but I will need you help. What do you say ? " As if it was reading his mind, the spirit knew exactly what to say without Prins having to speak : " It's simple : you let me be your companion, let me see the world through your eyes, and I give you power enough to get us both out of here, and more, if that is what you desire. " Prins took the chance to escape as soon as he got it, and the promise of power made it all the better.
As soon as the deal was made Prins seemed to become possessed. He used powers he did not know he had and cleared the way forward through magic, but he did not know how. Now that the path was clear Prins came back to normal, tired, but unharmed : " What the hell was that ?! " he though to himself : " It was me. In time you'll learn to control these powers on your own, but for now I'll have to control them through you. " the spirit answered. It was now inside Prins. It was his companion for the rest of his life.
Returned to his home, Prins hid his magic to the best of his abilities, while at the same time learning about it and training in secret. Only now he did not study basic spells from tomes, as he did years before, but powerful sorceries and demonic spells thought by the spirit in him. He did not stay in the city for long, leaving to see the world at the age of 19, only him and Yeena, as the spirit called itself. In time Prins perfected his powers and Yeena became more a part of him, or he a part of it, rather then two entities in the same body.
Is there more to yer tale ? (Other): Prins documents all recipes known to him in a book, and spells, along with anything related to wizardry, in another.
Adventure, Ho!
I hope this fits into the lore of the world. Also, I'm still unsure on the magic. If I could get some information on that it would be great.
What be yer name, Stranger ? (Name): Fognar One-Legged
Be you a lad or a lass ? (Gender): Male
What be yer lineage ? (Race): Dwarf
What be yer area of expertise ? (Class): Primary : Magician ( Warlock )
Axe or Sword ? (Preferred Weapon[s]): Mace
Adventurer's Kit Contents (Starting Inventory): A Bestiary containing information on most species of creatures on Garrn.
Self-Made concoctions used for healing.
Varied plants and alchemical ingredients.
A book written by himself on alchemical recipes.( Incomplete )
A book written by himself on spells & wizardry.( Incomplete )
Pipe & A small pouch full of tobacco.
What be yer talents ? (Abilities/Skills): Racial Skills : Mountaineering, Appraisal, Boozing, Battle-Ready, Heavy Weapons.
Class Skills : Mysticism, Herbology, Alchemy
Chosen Skills : Ancient History, Legends/Lore, Occult Lore, Bartering, Focus, Camping/Firebuilding
Know ye any spells ? (Magic): Primary Type : Transmutation/Magical alteration of one's own body or the body of others, to a lesser extent and only if they are willing to do so.
Secondary Type : Elemental Abilities - Cold
Tell me yer tale, an' I'll listen (Background): Born in a large dwarven city, Prins was raised as any other dwarven child in a family that wasn't particularly wealthy or particularly poor. His parents were miners, working many days in a row, sometimes even a week, after which returning home for a few days. Young Prins was used to living alone. His parents thought him everything he needed to know : How to cook, where to get food, how not to get fooled by greedy merchants and many other basics. He developed a knack for studying while alone. He would often go to the bookkeeper in the area and spend many hours reading and learning from the books there. He studied many subjects but magic fascinated him the most. Being among dwarves, he had not seen anything like it : being able to shape the world around you with your mind, conjuring flames in your hands and lighting up the way with your eyes... It all seemed marvelous so he began learning.
By the time he was 16, Prins had learned some basic spells and the desire to know more grew in him. It was at this time that his parents first took him to work the mines, just as they had done for so many years. It was backbreaking work, something Prins wasn't accustomed to, but he had to adapt. For two years he worked along with his parents, digging away at a deposit of ore so large that not even his father's father knew when it was discovered. Even though he was warned about the dangers of mining, Prins still worked recklessly and that was about to change everything.
One day as he was swinging his pick down in the mines Prins hit an unusual portion of rock. It was lighter then the surrounding rocks and in square shapes, like bricks in a wall. Curiosity got the better of him before he could call the others and he started swinging at it. It opened up a passage and Prins stepped through, without thinking of the consequences. The passage revealed itself to be an old room, walls made out of square stone bricks. As he looked around a cave-in happened, right where he came in. Now there was no way out.
Scared at first, Prins tried to keep calm and find a way out. He knew his slight understanding of magic could not help him, but it could give some light to the dark room he found himself into. As soon as the arcane light was created a giggle was heard from the dark. It came from a female voice : " Who comes to visit ? Hmm... a dwarf. A mage no less ! How nice of you to come ! " Prins panicked. Nothing could be alive down here, could it ? " You need not be afraid. I wish you no harm. I'm only a poor soul, trapped here, just as you. " the panic in him grew : "... trapped... " that meant there was no way out. He was not ready to die, there was still so much to see, so much to do, so much to learn... " Tell you what mage. " The spirit spoke again : " I know of a way out, but I will need you help. What do you say ? " As if it was reading his mind, the spirit knew exactly what to say without Prins having to speak : " It's simple : you let me be your companion, let me see the world through your eyes, and I give you power enough to get us both out of here, and more, if that is what you desire. " Prins took the chance to escape as soon as he got it, and the promise of power made it all the better.
As soon as the deal was made Prins seemed to become possessed. He used powers he did not know he had and cleared the way forward through magic, but he did not know how. Now that the path was clear Prins came back to normal, tired, but unharmed : " What the hell was that ?! " he though to himself : " It was me. In time you'll learn to control these powers on your own, but for now I'll have to control them through you. " the spirit answered. It was now inside Prins. It was his companion for the rest of his life.
Returned to his home, Prins hid his magic to the best of his abilities, while at the same time learning about it and training in secret. Only now he did not study basic spells from tomes, as he did years before, but powerful sorceries and demonic spells thought by the spirit in him. He did not stay in the city for long, leaving to see the world at the age of 19, only him and Yeena, as the spirit called itself. In time Prins perfected his powers and Yeena became more a part of him, or he a part of it, rather then two entities in the same body.
Is there more to yer tale ? (Other): Prins documents all recipes known to him in a book, and spells, along with anything related to wizardry, in another.
Adventure, Ho!
I hope this fits into the lore of the world. Also, I'm still unsure on the magic. If I could get some information on that it would be great.
Where exactly will we start this RP ? Just so I know what to put in my CS.
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