BingTheWing

Tales of Adventure and Discovery RPG (Final Name Pending)

Work in' on mah CS. I have three editions of DnD player's handbooks so this shouldn't be that difficult.

The Relics (No Plot/Fantasy/Character Driven/Worthy of Skepticism)

I wish we didn't have to sleep and/or all lived in the same timezone

When the Flames Die

After some time rigidly holding the knife at the woman's throat, he finally let it fall. "Lady, what I do involves people dying. I'm pretty sure that you wouldn't want to explain if you were in my place." He picked up his dagger and sheathed it in its appropriate scabbard in his belt. "Now, don't keep me waiting. I don't care who you are, but I assume you know when to get out of the way." With that, he shoved the door open.

In the night, the thug first scanned his surroundings. Clear, clear, cle - no. Two guards - serving the king this time - were heading his way. He withdrew his face into shadow, and waited for them to come closer. With precise timing, the thug hurled his meaty hand at the closest guard and slammed his face against a brick wall. The second guard put his hand on his sword. "No need." Adrian pulled the guard's sword out of its scabbard and slit his throat. He then proceeded to quickly drag the bodies into a dark alleyway, then escaped into the night. He had wasted too much time already. Safehouse Fourteen, Safehouse Fourteen...

When the Flames Die

Explain?" The thug laughed a hearty laugh, as he forced the woman's hand off his shoulder. "I don't explain. I ACT." The thug's tone of voice abruptly changed as he forced a dagger to the woman's throat. "Why don't we take this outside?"

When the Flames Die

"Alright, alright. Just needa finish off the rest of these Zaneth brats-"
The thug was interrupted by a wine-splattered and obviously disgruntled woman striding towards him. They had to get out fast. The thug's contact shuffled towards him.
"Safehouse Fourteen."
"That's on the other end of town."
"Well, can never be too safe when you stir up a bloody tavern brawl with Zaneth's boys involved, can ye?"
"Right." The thug looked slightly embarrassed. "Sorry." He looked back and saw that his contact had disappeared. He was always the cowardly type. The thug then proceeded to push his way past the woman.

The Relics (No Plot/Fantasy/Character Driven/Worthy of Skepticism)

Wens day rp gonna starrrrt?

Medieval Kingdom

The rider pried open yet another chest. This time, however, it wasn't gold or potions. It was several cases of scrolls. He opened one case, and brought out a particularly large piece of parchment. It muttered something about the 'Dark Ones', bla bla, bla bla. Apparently, kings and dragons of old merged blood to fight against these 'Darklings'. Wait. Was this why the queen transformed into a dragon? He read on. Apparently, the cure was in a special potion. Even the most experienced wizards could only contain it temporarily. The ultimate cure to this was the potion itself. He ruffled through the scrolls and books and pulled out a lengthy tome. He flipped it open onto a random page and saw that it was a journal of an apparently powerful archmage.
"I could not keep the potion for long. Bandits attacked me, beasts of the night tried to maul me. I stopped in the nearest farm I could find. It belonged to Baron Whatshisname... I forgot. Anyways, the farmer introduced himself as Moray Blackhilt..."
Dad?
"...a kind and honest worker. I told him to bury my potion in an untainted patch of land, fence it off, do whatever it takes to prevent people from getting it."
The rider briefly remembered a small fenced-off part of the farm that he was not allowed to go ANYWHERE near. It was all starting to fit together. But wait. This information... that that very worker was his father... if he sold it to the queen he could gain hundreds, thousands, millions of gold coins! He struggled to contain his excitement, and proceeded to ransack the rest of the room.

The Relics (No Plot/Fantasy/Character Driven/Worthy of Skepticism)

Name: Borgrund 'Bor' Fellhallows

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Relic Description:



It is an silver amulet depicting a tree. It has the power to simply grow vines into whatever shape the user desires, from a simple rope ladder to even a small house. Bor found it when foraging for food in a hollow tree stump. In fact, his relatively sturdy wilderness house was built with his relic.

Skills: Bor is trained in survival. Foraging, hunting, camp-making and hiking come naturally to him. His large axe can fell trees and men alike.

Background: However ironic it might be, Thomas Fellhallows spent the first ten years of his life in the care of nobles. His father was a merchant renowned for his large industry involving hunting materials. One day, Thomas and his father were out on a hunting trip when savages raided their camp. Thomas' father was killed immediately, but Thomas himself was miraculously spared. His instinct to fight impressed the tribesmen, and they brought him back to his camp. There he stayed for a few years, gradually adapting to the ways of the tribe. His new name was 'Borgrund', or Small Bear. Although he was almost a true-blooded savage, there were some 'posh' habits he couldn't shake: standing up straight, eating properly, and overall acting like a civilized person. Soon, he came at an age where it was time for him to make his own decisions, and he decided to stop living with the tribe anymore. He wanted to live in solitude, making a simple living as a forester. Until now.

Appearance:



(Replace the bow and sword with a two-bladed axe and wooden shield.)

Motivation: Bor wants to understand more about the natural world. He didn't really believe in the myths and legends that his tribe taught him. Why are leaves green? What makes wood so sturdy? Why do bears eat meat and not greens? He isn't exactly a scholarly type, but he believes that solitude in the woods will help him understand.

Theme Song:

When the Flames Die

Suddenly, the door of the inn burst open, revealing several guards. However, these men did not the wear the uniform of those that served the King. These were sellswords, mercenaries belonging to whoever they served. Their clients were usually merchant lords. Pff. Those fat traders were so bloody rich that they thought themselves above the law.
"Orders to search this building, under order of the Zaneth family!"
The thug at the table moved his face into shadow. He slightly moved his arm back, signaling to his accomplice across the room. An equally burly man stood up, went to the head of the table and proposed a magnificent toast. Consequently, he dropped his flagon and slapped his fellow patron in the face. What once was a center for revelry and celebration was now - well, still a center for revelry and celebration, just a little more... violent. Half-full flagons of ale and chunks of beef jerky ran amok across the room, similar to their throwers. Just as the thug subtly chucked a wine bottle into the fray to keep things going, two of the guards managed to wade their way through the brawl and towards him. Just as he was about to be recognized, two daggers flew from his right and into their heads. The same hooded figure appeared again, but this time it wasn't as friendly.
"Always making a bloody scene. Get your arse outta here and off the streets. We've got a new assignment for you."

The Relics (Free Form/Fantasy/Character Driven)

Guilty Spark said
Edit: I checked your writing, those are pretty great paragraphs so far. So if you deliver good writing like that a paragraph is fine by me.

M-my writing? From o-other threads?

I-I'm flattered. Seriously.

WOOO. Can't wait for this show to get on the road, baby.

Btw, do we HAVE to use powers only? Or can we concentrate on martial tactics aided with our relic's powers?