CollectorOfMyst

Primordial Uprising - [Kaiju & Monsterverse-Inspired RP]

You're going to have to be a bit more specific on that - but yes no head-honcho prime monsters. For now, make them act like creatures of a living, breathing ecosystem. They can be powerful, but have to have weaknesses that can be exploited fairly easily.

@Lmpkio

I was talking about humans. That was a little unclear, my bad ^^;

(D&D 5E) The Tyranny of Dragons - Closed

Tyranny Of Dragons – Hoard of the Dragon Queen

(link to the actual game)

The town of Greenrest was founded by the halfling Dharva Scatterheart, a rogue who fancied herself the queen of the Greenfields. Scatterheart passed away without ever achieving that level of eminence, but her town grew into a thriving community. Its success isn't surprising, since Greenrest is the only town of any size astride the Uldoon Trail, the most direct road between the eastern cities of the Dragon Coast, Cormyr, and Sembia with the Coast Way running south to the great cities of Amn, Tethyr, and far Calimshan. The trade caravans that pass through Greenrest bring gold to the town's merchants, and Governor Nighthill runs the town at the behest of the inhabitants. This is your destination.

You, the players, have been hired as guards by a brother and sister - Sebastian and Cassandra, who look to be young humans, joined your journey with theirs in Baldur's Gate. One way or another, you have found yourself in their employ. Perhaps Cassandra saw you practising your spellcraft in the streets. Perhaps Sebastian caught you trying to steal from their room. Perhaps they approached you after you alone stood as the victor of a bar fight. How matters little. But who is a question you've yet to find an answer to. And they've promised to pay extra for your silence. After all, thirty gold each is no small sum.

You headed south from Baldur's Gate, headed for Greenrest by way of Candlekeep - which Sebastian visited briefly, though you did not stay for long. Ever since, you have been travelling along the road, with the only threat being merchants and peddlers hoping to sell you something as you crossed paths. Only one more day remains until you reach the town of Greenrest... and a warm meal, a soft bed, and a town to explore.

---

The Tyranny of Dragons is a published Wizards of the Coast adventure that comes in two parts - Hoard of the Dragon Queen is the first part and is the beginning of your journey. There's actually already a game running here on the guild. The adventure as a whole will take you from 1st level to 15th. I welcome players both old and new, and I'm okay with most any content officially released by WOTC, so if you want to apply, run it by me, first.

I also operate on a strict Game-Info-is-Need-To-Know; the information I have detailing the basis of the game will be mine and mine alone until the story dictates it is yours to know. I will give you, as players, some knowledge regarding the world around you and what will happen in the game, as well as answering any questions about things you've gone through in the past. Backstories and character elements need to be approved by me, and you'll need to provide a copy of a character sheet in the thread or through a Private Message (PDFs, Myth-Weavers, and DiceCloud are all good options). There are story traits that you can take in addition to your character; if you would like to tie your character more closely to the story, and not just be a character that appeared incidentally, let me know.

Rules

Play Rules

Rule #1) I shouldn't really have to say this, but NO METAGAMING. Nobody here is a total idiot - I'm very much aware that there's a lot of information out there on the internet, and it's not too hard to find what you're looking for. If anyone gets a funny idea about looking up the story or the stats, then I'll apply an immediate penalty to their character, if I don't ask you to leave.
Rule #2) In the same vein, DO NOT modify your character sheet without my prior knowledge, and DO NOT do so in a way that grants additional bonuses. Anyone that breaks this rule will be removed from the game instantly.
Rule #3) Post quality and rates are something I am flexible on, within a reasonable margin. Yes, good writing wins you points, but more importantly, poor grammar and spelling lose points. In a post, I expect at least a decent sized paragraph, if not more. All players are asked to post at least twice a week - including the DM. If circumstances prevent you from doing so, I need to be told. If players consistently hold up the game, then I will need to re-evaluate whether they are suitable for my expected rate of play.
Rule #4) Get along, please, with each other and me. I want us all to have fun here, and if there's animosity in the mix, that's a lot less likely. These rules are in place so that we can avoid things that ruin our fun. If you have concerns regarding another player, PM me about it, but otherwise, leave it to me.

Game & Combat Rules

Rule #1) ALWAYS use the website provided dice roller. Create a campaign under the name ‘D&D 5E, Tyranny of Dragons – Character Name’ and link it in the ‘Other’ tab of your character sheet. You must also make sure to enter a description of what you are rolling for each time – if you do not, I will not accept the roll.
Rule #2) During combat, do not post in the IC unless it is your turn. Any reactions you would like to take, such as opportunity attacks or spells that affect an enemy must be stated in the OOC. The exception to this are spells like feather fall, which essentially requires your character to act as quickly as possible – I’m still thinking on this.
Rule #3) If you are engaged in combat, use the code format provided below in the beginning of each of your posts, and alter it accordingly. When describing what your character does, no matter what you write, make sure to state exactly what you are doing in a hider at the bottom of your post, including links to any dice rolls made on that turn. Once you have posted, I will respond in the OOC as soon as I can, telling you any information you have gained from your turn (e.g., if you missed, if your enemy failed their saving throw, if you triggered an opportunity attack, etc.) You can then edit this information in. If you made an attack or cast a spell that requires you to roll dice, roll all dice associated with it; if you have a pending decision that requires you to know what happened, like if you want to know if your first attack killed an enemy before you decide who to target with a second attack, then make the first roll, wait for my response, and then we’ll resolve the second one. It’s a bit inelegant, but unless someone comes up with a better idea, that’s how it’s going to be.

Combat format

Character’s Turn | Init: Z

HPCurrent/Maximum + Temporary, if any | Status: XXX

---

Turn Summary

Action
Bonus action

Example

[h3]Cayden’s Turn | Init: Z[/h3]
[b]HP[/b]Current/Maximum + Temporary, if any | Status: If any

---

Cayden, seeing his ally fall unconscious, lets out a cry of panic, even as he rolls aside to avoid an incoming attack. Climbing to his feet, he draws on a little bit of magic and casts Healing Word. Then, in a burst of manic speed, he drives his spear towards the chest of the nearest foe.
[hider=Turn Summary]Monster attacked Cayden last turn, and missed.
Cayden stands up, ending the Prone condition.
Cayden uses his bonus action to cast [b]Healing Word[/b] on Ally, for 6 Hit Points. (link can be attached to the number or at the end here)
He attacks Monster, with a 14 to hit, for 5 damage.(same as above)[/hider]

Player Application Forms

Example Character: Cayden

Cayden Oakheart

NG Halfling (Stout) | Cleric 1 | Urchin

"I-I'm not scared of you."

Attributes

AC 17 • HP 10/10 • Speed 25

STR 14 (+2) | DEX 14 (+2) | CON 14 (+2)
INT 10 (+0) | WIS 14 (+2) | CHA 10 (+0)

Saving Throws: Wisdom +4, Charisma +2
Skills: History +2, Insight +4, Sleight of Hand +4, Stealth +4
Tools: Thieves' tools, Disguise Kit
Languages: Common, Halfling

Arms & Armour

Armour | Scale Mail | Shield
Weapons | Spear | Holy Amulet

Appearance

Age: 20 | Height: 3"2' | Weight: 37lbs

Cayden is a halfling of average looks and stature - brown, curly hair, freckled skin, not quite plump, not quite thin. He wears scale mail armour and carries a shield emblazoned with the crest of Yondalla, Mother of Halflings, Protector and Provider. Well, for him, it's a shield. For anyone else, it's a buckler. Around his neck is an amulet with the same crest - much older and more worn than Cayden is. Underneath his armour, his tunic is a light blue, with a hood coming up and around his neck. And, if you look closely, you might just see, tucked inside that hood, a small fuzz of brown fur...

Pepper the Mouse

Name: Pepper | Age: Four (months) | Height: Smol | Weight: 0.04lbs

A common brown field mouse; it hardly stands out from the rest, in all except she is Pepper, and thus unique. She peeks her nose out from the hood, blinking at you with curiously intelligent eyes. She has been with Cayden through thick and thin, and through sheer halfling luck, survived. She lets Cayden scritch her forehead for a few seconds, before burrowing back into his hood.

Personality

Main Mood: Nervous | Fave Food: Honey and bread | Pet Peeve: Cold nights | Style of Battle: Hang back and heal/Panic

Cayden is a quiet type, usually content to keep to himself, and likes to hide in small spaces - not out of fear, but because he genuinely likes them. He is terrible at talking with strangers, even allies, but once you get to know him, his stutter will fade slightly and he will talk smoothly and easily with you, though still slightly quiet and reserved. He is open with his emotions and is most affectionate to Pepper - the daughter of his previous mouse, Mint. Beneath all of this, though, is unseen bravery that even Cayden doesn't recognise - the strength to keep fighting even as his allies fall, the burn to protect them from those who would do them harm.

Origin

Cayden doesn't really remember his parents. It's a bit sad when you think about it, but Cayden knows that grieving has its time, before you must move on. For the better part of a decade, he lived alone on the streets of Baldur's Gate. Fighting or tricking the other stray children, picking pockets, and so on. All he had was the amulet his parents gave him, and he guarded it closely.
But not all of his life was like that. One winter, food was scarce, and the rags he wore were not quite enough to keep him warm. He begged passersby for something, anything... but people didn't have much. And when one merchant kicked him in the side and shouted slurs at him, he fled. Starving and hungry, he slowly gave in, crawling into an alleyway and letting the darkness take him.
Death was warm. Like a loving embrace. He opened his eyes... and saw a halfling woman, with long golden hair the colour of a wheat field, dressed all in green, and carrying a shield, with the symbol of Yondalla emblazoned upon it. "You must be tired, my darling..." she said. "I understand if you want to sleep... but you need to stay awake just a little longer. Alright, my love?"
He woke to something nipping softly at his hand. A mouse, a brown mouse with curiously intelligent eyes, looked up at him, standing on its hind legs briefly. Then, it turned and ran over to something by his waist. A pouch - when opened, it revealed a small amount of dried meat, dried berries, some nuts, a bread roll, and a pot of honey. Almost laughing and crying with joy, Cayden stood, putting the mouse on his shoulders, where it was content to stay. And he set out, for the temple of Yondalla just outside the city.

Writing Sample

How did Cayden meet Cassandra?

How did Cayden meet Cassandra? Simple, really. He entered Baldur's Gate, carrying the usual alms box to deliver to the orphanage there. A recent construction by a compassionate older woman, Cayden's temple was their most reliable donor, and he had been given the duty of delivering their donation at the end of every second tenday. It was his first official duty as a cleric, and he was eager to prove himself... even if this was literally moving a box from one place to another.
As he passed a gap between two houses, he heard a weak cry. The cry of a child. He turned. And he saw two men, grappling a struggling child to hold him still, while a third, a woman, slowly lowered the sharpened tip of a spear towards its throat. He didn't think. He acted. He ran into the alley.
"Stop!" he shouted.
The woman straightened and turned towards him. She took him in as he came to a halt not ten feet in front of her. Her lips twisted into a smile.
"So we have an audience. Nice to know the gods want to watch as well."
Cayden paused. "Watch what? Watch you m-murder a child?!"
One of the men scoffed. "Ain't a kid. It's a demon, and it's gonna die like one."
Cayden hesitated, before glancing toward the child, and letting out a soft gasp. From a distance, with the shadows and the dirt, it was difficult to see, but up close... the girl's eyes were onyx black, even where the whites would be. Her tear-streaked face was the colour of amber, and maroon hair hung around her shoulders... but most importantly, a pair of horns curled out around her ears. A tiefling dressed in ragged clothes, most likely abandoned on the streets, or else alone with no guardian to speak of. He looked down at himself - not always had he dressed in armour, been well fed, had a roof over his head. Once, he was just like her.
He turned back to the woman, who still held the spear in her hand. "L-let her go."
Her expression changed from smug to stunned. "What did you say?"
He took a deep breath and stood as tall as he could. "Let. Her. G-go."
"Why in the Nine Hells would we do that?!" one of the men asked. "I'm getting bored of you."
The other nodded, and added, "Piss off, halfling."
But the woman had another plan. She smiled and bowed with a flourish. "Of course, ser. Boys, go on."
They looked at her, aghast, and the girl wriggled free from their grip. In a flash, she was gone.
The woman straightened her back, and her eyes locked onto Cayden as the mirth faded from them. "Now, if you would be so kind as to hand over that box you have on your belt, we can all go on our merry way and forget this ever happened."
The two men grinned, realising now her plans, just as Cayden felt that pleased feeling fall down dead. The woman took a menacing step forward, her spear lowering. Cayden took a step back, letting out a soft sound of surprise as his back hit the wall.
"We let the girl go, didn't we?" the woman said, the spear getting unnervingly close to the halfling's throat, his eyes widening in fear. "I say we deserve to be compensated for our troub-"
"Do not touch him, you scoundrel."
Everyone's heads swivelled sharply toward the newcomer. A young woman in a white and green dress stood there, her eyes intense. Plucking at the edge of a red cloak was the tiefling girl, hiding mostly behind the new person.
The woman with the spear cursed. "All these interruptions! Go away, girlie. This doesn't involve you."
The young woman raised her chin. "I am involved now. And I will not tell you again."
The first woman sneered. "And what are you going to do about it?"
There was a burst of flame, and the woman let out a shout of pain, casting the spear aside, her hand red and angry. The newcomer had a raised hand, still glowing from the magic she had used. The thug looked at her companions.
"What are you waiting for? Get that bi-!"
Her voice died away as a spear pressed itself against her throat. Cayden was shaking all over, but his hands were steady enough, knuckles white around the spear in his hands.
"Leave."
Her face ruddy with anger and embarrassment, the thief didn't say anything else. She left, and her friends went with her. Cayden, the spellcaster, and the tiefling girl watched her go. The woman turned to Cayden soon after.
"You were very brave to do that," she said quietly.
"I c-could say the same of you," Cayden stammered. His heart felt like it was in his throat, and he was swaying slightly on his feet.
She tilted her head. "My name is Cassandra. Hex here ran into me on the street, and when she told me what was going on, I had to help." The tiefling mumbled something and moved closer to Cassandra, who placed a hand on her shoulder. "And you?
"C-Cayden. Cayden O-Oakheart. Cleric of Yondalla."
Cassandra paused for a moment, then smiled. "Would you perhaps be willing to take a job? My brother and I need an escort."
Cayden froze. A job? A journey? But he had barely even gone beyond Baldur's Gate before. His hand went down to the box at his side.
"I-I'll think about it. I've g-got something I need to do first." His gaze fell on Hex, who still stood shyly behind the spellcaster. "And she needs to come with me."
For a moment, fear and confusion crossed the tiefling's face. But, at Cassandra's encouragement, she stepped out from behind the cloak and nodded at Cayden. The halfling nodded back. He had lived on the streets, once. Now he had to make sure no children went through what he had ever again.

Features & Traits

Racial Features: Halfling (Stout)

Lucky - When you roll a 1 on an attack roll, ability check, or saving throw, you can reroll the die. You must use the new result, even if it is a 1.
Brave - You have advantage on saving throws against being frightened.
Nimble - You can move through the space of any creature that is of a size larger than yours.
Stout Resilience - You have advantage on saving throws against poison, and you have resistance to poison damage.

Background Features: Urchin

City Secrets - You know the secret patterns and flow to cities and can find passages through the urban sprawl that others would miss. When you are not in combat, you (and companions you lead) can travel between any two locations in the city twice as fast as your speed would normally allow.

Class Features: Cleric (Light)

Spellcasting - See spellcasting section.
Bonus Cantrip - When you choose this domain at 1st level, you gain the light cantrip if you don’t already know it.
Warding Flare - Also at 1st level, you can interpose divine light between yourself and an attacking enemy. When you are attacked by a creature within 30 feet of you that you can see, you can use your reaction to impose disadvantage on the attack roll, causing light to flare before the attacker before it hits or misses. An attacker that can’t be blinded is immune to this feature.

You can use this feature a number of times equal to your Wisdom modifier (a minimum of once). You regain all expended uses when you finish a long rest.

Prepared Spells

Spell Save DC 12 | Spell Attack Modifier +4 | Max Spells Prepared 3

Cleric Spellcasting

Cantrips: You know three cantrips from the cleric spells. You learn an additional cantrip at 4th and 10th level.
Preparing and Casting Spells: The table above shows how many spell slots you have to cast spells of 1st level and higher. To cast one of these spells, you must expend a slot of the spell's level or higher. You regain all expended slots when you finish a long rest.
You prepare the list of cleric spells that are available for you to cast, choosing from the cleric spell list. When you do so, choose a number of spells equal to your Wisdom modifier + your cleric level (min. 1 spell). These must be of a level for which you have spell slots. You may change your list of prepared spells whenever you finish a long rest; doing so requires 1 minute of prayer or meditation per spell level of the chosen the spells.
Spellcasting Ability: Wisdom is your casting ability for cleric spells. Your magic is granted to your by your deity or their servants, as a reward for your devotion. When a spell refers to your spellcasting ability, you use Wisdom. In addition, you use your Wisdom to determine the save DC of any cleric spell which requires one, and when making an attack roll with one.

• Spell save DC= 8 + your proficiency bonus + your Wisdom modifier
• Spell attack modifier= your proficiency bonus + your Wisdom modifier

Ritual Casting: You may cast any cleric spell you have prepared as a ritual if it has the ritual tag. A spell cast as a ritual takes an additional 10 minutes to cast, but does not require you to expend a spell slot.
Spellcasting Focus: You may use a holy symbol as a spellcasting focus for your spells. Every deity or religion has at least one holy symbol, and you may use any associated with your religion. They are traditionally amulets or pendants, but can also be signet rings, insignias on a shield, or even a held banner. Whatever form they take, you must be able to take hold of the object and present it towards the target(s) of your spell.

Cantrips

Light - V M (a firefly or phosphorescent moss), touch, action.
Mending - V S M (two lodestones), touch, 1 minute.
Sacred Flame - V S, 60ft, action. Dex save, 1d8 Radiant.
Spare the Dying - V S, touch, action.

Level 1 (2 Slots)

Bane - C V S M (drop of blood), 30ft, action. Cha Save, -1d4 to attacks and saving throws.
Bless - C V S M (sprinkling of holy water), 30ft, action. +1d4 to attacks and saving throws.
Burning Hands - V S, self (15ft cone), action. Dex save, 3d6 Fire.
Cure Wounds - V S, touch, action. 1d8+2 HP.
Faerie Fire - C V, 60ft, action. Dex save 20ft cube.

Other

Cayden's color code is mediumslateblue.
His amulet glows whenever he casts a spell.
Pepper defies all odds during combat and cannot get hit.

BBcode

[hider=CHARACTER NAME[center][h2][color=YourColourHere]Name of your character. Keep in mind the rules of your race (E.g., Tabaxi have phrases, Dragonborn have Lastname Firstname, Gnomes have nicknames)[/color][/h2]
[img]Character Image - Optional[/img]
[h3]Alignment (e.g., NG) Race (Subrace) | Class LevelNumber | Background[/h3]
[i][color=YourColourHere]"Something your character would say"[/color][/i]

[h3][color=YourColourHere][b][u]Attributes[/u][/b][/color][/h3]
[h3][b]AC[/b] XX • [b]HP[/b] XX/XX • [b]Speed[/b] XX[/h3]
[b]STR[/b] XX (+X) | [b]DEX[/b] XX (+X) | [b]CON[/b] XX (+X)
[b]INT[/b] XX (+X) | [b]WIS[/b] XX (+X) | [b]CHA[/b] XX (+X)

[b]Saving Throws:[/b] Proficient Saving Throws.
[b]Skills:[/b] Proficient Skill. [b]Expertise Skill[/b]
[b]Tools:[/b] Any tools, instruments or vehicles you are proficient in. [b]Expertise tools[/b]
[b]Languages:[/b] Languages spoken.

[h3][color=YourColourHere][b][u]Arms & Armour[/u][/b][/color][/h3]
[b]Armour[/b] | Any armour they're wearing
[b]Weapons[/b] | Any weapons they're carrying. This includes a wizard's tome, and your spellcasting foci.
[h3][color=YourColourHere][b][u]Appearance[/u][/b][/color][/h3]
[b]Age:[/b] XX | [b]Height:[/b] In feet, keep in mind race heights | [b]Weight:[/b] XXlbs

Describe their face, their hair, their clothes
[hider=Personal Item (optional)]
[img]Image of item (optional)[/img]
[b]Name:[/b] XX | [b]Age:[/b] If applicable | [b]Size:[/b] XX | [b]Weight:[/b] XXlbs

Describe the singular item that is most important to your character. This could be a pet, a book, and so on.[/hider]
[h3][color=mediumslateblue][b][u]Personality[/u][/b][/color][/h3]
[b]Main Mood:[/b] Usual emotion | [b]Fave Food:[/b] What do they like to eat| [b]Pet Peeve:[/b] Something that annoys them | [b]Style of Battle:[/b] How do they act in battle?

Two paragraphs maximum, three if you really need it. What is their general demeanour? Their outlook on life? How do they express their emotions? How do they talk? So on and so forth.
[h3][color=YourColourHere][b][u]Origin[/u][/b][/color][/h3]
Describe their life before this. What is their background? Who is their family, if any? What led to their becoming their class/leaving their home? A paragraph or two will suffice, three maximum.
[h3][color=YourColourHere][b][u]Writing Sample[/u][/b][/color][/h3]
[hider=How did NameOfChar meet NameOfTwin?]Start with 'How did NameOfChar meet NameOfTwin? I want you to write a short story describing the answer to this question, either full-third person or from the perspective of your character. This is how I will get an idea of your writing style. Cassandra wears green and white, and is a spellcaster. Sebastian wears blue and black, and uses a sword. Both wear a red cloak, and have brown hair and green eyes. Remember, Cayden's character sheet is HIGH END of what I expect.[/hider]
[h3][color=YourColourHere][b][u]Features & Traits[/u][/b][/color][/h3][/center]
[hider=Racial Features: Race (Subrace, if any)][b][i]Feature Name[/i][/b] - Feature Details.[/hider]
[hider=Background Features: Background][b][i]Name of Feature[/i][/b] - Feature details.[/hider]
[hider=Class Features: Class (Subclass, if acquired)][b][i]Name of Feature[/i][/b] - Feature details.[/hider]
[center][h3][color=YourColourHere][b][u]Prepared Spells[/u][/b][/color][/h3]
[b]Spell Save DC[/b] XX | [b]Spell Attack Modifier[/b] +X | [b]Max Spells Prepared[/b] X[/center]
[hider=Cleric Spellcasting]Rules Surrounding your spells[/hider]
[hider=Cantrips][i]Cantrip Name[/i] [b]C[/b]oncentration [b]V[/b]erbal [b]S[/b]omatic [b]M[/b]aterial (material component), range, duration. Effect.[/hider]
[hider=Level 1 (2 Slots)][i]Spell Name[/i] [b]C[/b]oncentration [b]V[/b]erbal [b]S[/b]omatic [b]M[/b]aterial (material component), range, duration. Effect.[/hider][/hider]

[center][h3][color=YourColourHere][b][u]Other[/u][/b][/color][/h3][/center]
Anything else you want people to know about your character.

Primordial Uprising - [Kaiju & Monsterverse-Inspired RP]

I've been taking a break from the site, recently (okay, it's been a LONG break, but I'm still in an active RP!), but I'm hoping to try and get back into things. And this story is both similar to one I've been in before, and highly interesting. I just have a couple of questions, if you don't mind?

1. I presume that this is our nitty-gritty-man-vs-god sort of story, where humans are completely and utterly average? No X-Men, no magicians, etcetera? Just thought to check.

2. I know your stance on modern characters like Godzilla and such, but what about creatures from older legends/folklore? Are those out of the picture, too? I'm not sure if I want to play a monster yet, but if I am, got to know where things stand.

3. With this in mind, how 'legendary' can our characters be? Presumably, we don't want them to be like, the head honcho or anything. Again, I'm asking so that I can know what the absolute limit is.

[ C R A W L ]

>Aaron watches the prisoners until they leave his sight, and then moves to D24.

>Jamie moves to C3.

[ C R A W L ]

@Mae I'm still around, as ever.

>Jamie is frozen, both from the cold and in time because nothing's happening on her mission.

>Aaron takes a tentative step forward, wincing at the heat coming through his boots. He gets to D13 and stops, looking at the cages. "Fear, Lucy... you two know your way around locks, right? I'm not leaving without getting these people out safe, but... the less we get hurt the better.

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

With permission and collaboration from @Lovejoy

Father Marius Valtari, “Scion of Clan Valtari”
Age: 21



The firstborn son of Halcyon Valtari, and a tribute given to the Red Seminary. The chieftains of Clan Valtari, one of Muraad’s greatest clans, have always been strong in ether, and thus prime candidates for future Inquisitors. It became a tradition for the Firstborn of the chief to be taken to Mangnagrad.

Marius himself is a charismatic, and well-respected individual. He stays true to the Muraadan ways, yet is still faithful to Varya. He cares deeply for all his warsiblings, considering them more family than colleagues, and has shown the logical and persuasive power to get Warband Leviathan to work together when their individual personalities clash - which is why they made him their Warleader. Marius has since taken well to the role, proving a natural leader, and would not stop at anything to keep them all alive.

The Valtari heir is also remarkably skilled in combat, and studied directly under Father Gregoroth in the use of weapons, going through a far harsher regimen than his peers - not that that says much. His ether, too, sets him apart - he has the unique power to turn from man to beast. The thunderous Bear, the swift Wolf, and the cunning Eagle are all under his command.

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

Oren disrobed in silence, wincing slightly any time he moved a touch too quickly, or a touch too far. Each item he discarded revealed another bruise, a colourful array of brown, purple, pale green and yellow, against a canvas of white. They were across his back, his ribs, his legs - all impacts from the fight that had yet to fade. His entire body ached, but that was no new sensation; it was just like after a good training session. Except for the giants made of ice and the threat of death.

With a whispered cry of both pain and relief, Oren sank down into the hot water. It burned, but he couldn’t care less right now. His eyes half-lidded, he leaned back against the side of the tub. It was… nice, to be in the water. He didn’t know why, but he enjoyed it - it almost felt as though he and his troubles were weightless. Oren could focus solely on his thoughts.

Well, not quite focus. More… reflect. The past few days had brought no end to his questions, and not enough of them had answers. It was more than likely he’d forget all about them, eventually, but there were a few things that lingered. This… Asherahn, for one. Again, Oren reflexively closed his hand. Why did he care? All he had to do was just dismiss the whole business from his mind and it wouldn’t trouble him - but he couldn’t ignore it, either. Conflicting gods, Titans of Ice and Fire, war, hate, destruction, all of it - it was intertwined with his path. Oren was an Inquisitor of the Hungering Lord, a warrior bade to carry out his will. He was never going to escape that - only through death.

And yet… Lady Lyessa lived free. Lady Lyessa al-Nors, High Inquisitor, former member of Warband Ifrit. She had gone her own way, despite her past.

Oren groaned, sinking deeper into the water. No, this wasn’t helping. It wasn’t helping at all.

“Just… retrace your steps, Oren.” he murmured. “Always retrace your steps.”

---

Three Days Ago

---

Two acolytes walked past, and Oren ducked his head, holding his breath ever so slightly. There was no general worry - he outranked them, and people were far more likely to believe a fully realised Inquisitor than a fledgling one. Still, when the majority of the Seminary was empty, every pair of eyes meant risk, especially when he might be walking away with stolen items. He tweaked the edge of his hood, but didn’t pull it up - he’d only look suspicious like that.

He passed by the training yard, and stopped momentarily to look at the crowd of youths sparring with each other. All of them had blunt iron weapons of their various preferences - and they pulled no punches, either. The memory of Father Gregoroth was still fresh in their minds, and the pressure was high enough with the void the Inquisitors left behind. Among the acolytes, a tall figure paced - a dark haired Muraadan Inquisitor, his hand on the sword at his side, some slight stubble coming through - unusual for him, but Oren could only assume that the increased workload meant that he’d had less time for personal grooming.
Oren watched for a few moments longer as one of the students was knocked from her feet, winded and bruised. The man swiftly made his way over to her, and bent at the knee so that they were on more equal level, not even taking note that everyone had turned to watch. He said something, and the girl replied, wiping spittle and blood from her chin. After a few moments, he reached out his hand to help her up - and when she took it, swiftly pulled her into an armlock. Oren winced in sympathy for the girl as she grimaced, even though the man’s grip wasn’t too harsh; there were a few more words, and then she pushed herself away. The issue resolved, the Inquisitor began to go back to his routine… and his eyes met Oren’s.

Oren flinched and stepped away from the door - he’d lingered too long. Increasing his pace, he closed his eyes and shook his head. He wasn’t here to watch teenagers attack each other. He was here for Antoni-

Oren walked straight into a solid metal wall, and stumbled, tripping over his own feet, and fell backwards onto the ground. Opening his eyes, he glanced up at the Inquisitor that had so swiftly cut him off. Purple-grey irises bored into amber, and Oren felt the tips of his ears flush pink, his mind racing to find a way out of this situation. But Marius Valtari, warleader of Warband Leviathan, was already holding out his hand.

“Sorry, Oren. You should really look where you’re going, though.” he said.

Breathing heavily, the tips of his ears tinged with pink, Oren looked at the extended arm. Reluctantly, he grasped it. “...I hope you realise that I’m not going to be as easily restrained as your students.”

Marius let out a laugh as he pulled Oren to his feet. “I wouldn’t expect less. You can be as slippery as a fox when you want to be. I’m just glad I caught you - I thought you’d be in Cero by now.”

“I just returned from Iddin-Mar this morning. Mother Ziotea and I have a half-day here until we can leave.” Oren cocked his head. “I see you’ve taken well to your new role, Marius. You seem to be doing as good a job as the Great Bear.”

The taller Inquisitor rubbed the back of his neck. “No, I don’t think so. He hasn’t been gone long, and I haven’t even got half of his experience or skill, and definitely not his strength. And I don’t think Gregoroth would ever run off to speak with a friend.” His mouth twitched. “Could always turn into the bear, though. I wouldn’t be any better a teacher, but it’d probably scare the kids more.”

“You underestimate Father Gregoroth’s influence.”

Marius blinked, before his brow creased slightly. “Is there a reason you’re being so formal with me, Oren?”

The pale inquisitor tensed, fumbling for words, his heart pounding at an alarming rate. “No! I just… it’s…”

Marius’ frown grew, and pulling Oren by the arm - since neither of them had let go - he walked into an empty room and shut the door behind him. Oren expected him to be angry or stern, but when Marius turned to face him, all Oren could see was worry.

“Is it the dreams?” Marius asked in a low voice. “Are you having them again?”

Oren hesitated, then shook his head. “No, Marius, it’s not tha-”

Marius caught Oren by the wrist, and twisted it upward. A small red mark was clearly visible, showing exactly where Oren had put the needle. “Then why are you still taking Gantleaf? You said you’d stop.”

Oren looked down at the ground. “I also said I’d stopped a year ago, and it wasn’t true then, either. I’m fine, Marius.”

Booted feet walked closer, and he was pushed into the wall. A hand fell on his shoulder, and the other was pinning his wrist to the stone.

“Oren, please. You’re going to be gone for months. Don’t make me worry about you for that whole time.”

His heart was pounding, and blood was rushing in his ears. Oren knew his face was reddening with shame and embarrassment, but he still met the taller man’s gaze. And he regretted it instantly. Marius’ eyes were filled with concern - and the love Marius had for all of his warsiblings. It shot through Oren like an arrow, but it hurt so much more. Why? Why did his heart hurt so much?

...Oren knew why. Even though he’d tried to deny it for years. Even though it wasn’t, couldn’t ever be, permitted. He drew a deep breath… in through the nose, and out through the mouth. Then he looked at Marius, golden eyes colder than the ice.

“I’m going to die out there, Marius Valtari. Forget me. It’ll save you a whole lot of trouble.”

The other man’s face turned to shock and hurt, but his grip loosened, allowing Oren to slip out from his grasp and leave.

---

Oren was, for what must have been the hundredth time in these past few days, looking at his palm. Instead of contemplating the azure circle, however, he was watching blood trickle down his arm. Four crescent-shaped wounds marked where his nails had dug deeply, his entire hand sore from clenching it so tightly. Sighing, he drew on a small amount of ether and healed what he could; leaving just little red marks instead. It was time to bury these feelings deep.

Dipping his arm into the water to wash the blood away, he turned over to grab something between finger and thumb. Holding it up, he turned the indigo-black diamond around, letting it catch the light. To any other, this might have looked like a simple game piece, and well, it was. But to Oren, it was far more significant. After all, Lady Essa’s catalyst was just like it. There was more to this mystery yet.

Group 2: Curse of Strahd [5e]

I should be good, ye! though I might want to change my character... we'll see.

The CharactersOfMyst

Flint

NAME: Flint Ambrose
SEX: Male
AGE: 35 (Middle-Aged).
HOMELAND: The Black Duchy, formerly the Kingdom of Lithenia.
BACKGROUND: Tradesman

TRAITS:

• Strider – Flint is not the strongest, the fastest, or the smartest. But he knows how to take what he has and use it to survive.
• Tactician – When you’re at this for half of your life, you usually develop an eye for strategy.

FLAWS:

• Sleepless – Most people go to sleep at night, but Flint... it takes a bit.

PROFICIENCIES: 16 +4 Skill points
Expertise:
Tactics II (3 points)
Folklore I (1 point)
Mathematics I (1 point)

Skills:
Cooking II (3 points)
Herbalism II (3 points)
Flute I (1 point)

Social:
Command I (1 point)

Weapons:
Swords II (3 points)
Shields II (3 points)

PERSONALITY:

Flint can be the stoic type; he has endured hardships and pain, but gritted his teeth and got on with it. That’s all he really has to do. Not much he can see ahead of him, and not much that would come after, either. This also extends to people. He’s not gone out of his way to make friends, and can often appear aloof. That said, he does try to care for the few people he knows – it’s simply that he’s lost enough people that it becomes hard to care for anyone more.
He tries to watch out for his friends, or rather, comrades, to make sure that they live to see another day. Whether this is interposing a sword or shield to halt a deadly blow, making sure they don’t make enemies of import or just plain shouting at them, he’ll do his best. If he doesn’t have any bodies to care about, he’ll just worry about making sure whatever’s trying to gut him gets gutted first.
And as for his beliefs… Flint practices some of the Old Ways, but he is no god-fearing man. In fact, he doesn’t fear much at all. Put him in a panic? Certainly. But there are only a two things Flint has truly come to fear. The first is meeting his end – a reasonable fear by any means, and one that has often kept him his hide. And second… Duke Garcell of the Black Duchy. That man is truly a demon to him.
He's also coming to regret how long he's been in the game... the number of creases on his brow have increased. He hasn't found any grey hairs, but it's only a matter of time. Both signify he's nearing an age where he won't be as effective a fighter as he used to be. Even if he became a captain of some kind, he would still see war. Or he could purchase some land, open a shop or an inn, get a pretty wife - the standard dream. He can't trudge dirt paths forever. So once again, his life falls to a choice.

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION:

Not tall, not short, with tawny brown hair and gold-flecked brown eyes, he would not stand out among the people you might see in the Aldaric Sea, common as that is. He couldn’t even tell you from whom he is descended – though he has his presumptions. He’s fairly balanced in his athleticism, lean enough to be quick, muscled enough to be strong, and, well, he's had an admirer or two in his life.

EQUIPMENT:

A bastard sword and a simple iron shield are his primary tools-of-choice, with a leather brigandine, bracers and greaves, and steel-toed boots, with a plate helm and leather cap he wears if knocks to the head are likely. He has a crossbow and a dagger, too, but mostly it’s piecemeal things he’s picked up over the years. Most of it he just sold on to someone else. Add in his bags with enough food and clean water to get him to the next town, some dried herbs and strips of cloth in case he injures himself, kindling and a flint to light the occasional fire, a wooden flute which he whittled himself and occasionally plays, a whetstone and oil for his gear, a bedroll and blanket for sleeping, rope, which you always need, and his coin, and he’s set to go for his journeying. You might think that’s a lot for one man to carry, and you’d be right, which is why he brings along Gale, a bay-coloured mare. She’s not exactly one to ride, and she’ll kick if she’s made uncomfortable, but they seem to have a good relationship.

HISTORY:

Flint was born to a herbalist and a miner in a provincial town, in the Kingdom of Lithenia. He refuses to call it by any other name. He was twelve when Barthos Garcell staged his coup, and that was about when his father died, too. And under the Duke’s (now King’s) rein, things certainly changed. He remembers how harsh things were back then. The toll it took.

In lieu of taking up a pick-axe, Flint’s mother taught him her herb trade, how to grow some, where others grew wild, and which ones not to touch, and then how to mix them, cut them, mash them, brew them. It took several months, and a number of arguments, before he relented. He’d run the town to make deliveries and hiked into the mountains to go where his mother dare not. He met a few 'Low Aldonians' at that time, too. The ones who saw him were brash, and the ones who didn't... he came to pity these people. Their ancestors had left them quite the legacy. Aside from those distractions, he and his mother were still relatively happy... but as it always does in stories, that didn’t last.

Just before his sixteenth, his mother died, in a fit of Fate’s Irony, from illness. And that took everything from him. He didn’t have nearly the expertise his mother did in herbs, and the horror stories of explosions in the mines struck that off the list. That left starving, begging, or apprenticeship to a craftsman or trader… or enlisting. He was too old to find anybody who’d take him, and he’d seen enough dead in the streets to know that trying to beg would starve him anyway. And that left enlistment.

He remembered the time the King took over. He didn’t want to be a part of that. But what choice did he have? It came in the form of a mercenary company, in search of new work and fresh blood for the fold. They had no interest in a scraggly youth, untrained and untried, but a single man took pity on him. Menos was an old veteran, more one to bark than bite, and reaching his decline. But he claimed to see the fighting spirit in Flint. So Flint sold what he no longer needed, including the only home he knew, bought a rusted sword and mould-ridden shield, and left. His training took some time, years spent on the road until he was on par with his mentor. He helped his group wherever he could, and joined his company in fights when they happened. He turned twenty by the time he could afford a proper weapon. And he was more than distraught when, in a moment of hesitation from Flint, Menos took a blow for him. It proved fatal.

That was all it took for Flint. Despite the congratulations of his comrades and the coin in his pocket, he felt numb. Death was a thing that happened. He had always known that. But one after another, they’d left him behind. He’d lost most all he considered dear to him. Taking his share of coin from the company, he bought a filly pony and left on amicable terms with the men he’d known for the past four years. His time since has been spent as an escort, making sure bandits and pirates don’t lay their hands on his charges, and on occasion, grabbing the occasional thief or murderer. The only place he’s not gone in the last twelve years has been the Duchy itself.

The CharactersOfMyst

Scott

Name: Scott Carter – now, just Scott

Theme: Don’t generally use themes ^_^;

Gender: Male

Species: Pixie

Appearance:

[+]

Goals:
Become more confident and open.
Reach the Demon King’s palace and have his questions answered.
Return home.

Past Life:

[+]

Scott Carter is not what you would have called a normal boy. He was different from his peers, even at a young age, but nobody could ever figure out why. The other children shunned him, and his teachers saw him go off on his own more often than not. It persisted for all his life, from primary school and into secondary. He sat at the back of the classroom. Kept his head down in the corridors. Rarely would he speak more than a few words. And always, he was alone.
He had his reasons. For one, he could find people overwhelming. For two, though buried, he had anxieties in abundance. And for a third... solitude was calming, for him. Often, he had a book in his bag or a notepad and pen, that he would read from, sketch in, write on. He saw worlds full of myth or magic, or wondrous technology that defied science itself. He lost himself in these worlds, always straining towards them, but separated by that ink and paper barrier. Those worlds were out of his reach. If only he had had time to see his own.
It came from a childish prank by his classmates. Even more so childish because they, and he, were in Year Eleven at the time. He had been walking home, as usual, paying no attention to the ones following him, when the world went dark. He woke at a construction site – abandoned, from the looks of it. He had three tormentors. They had waited until nightfall, and then tied him to a chair on one of the higher levels. And there they stood, laughing, jeering.
He remembers one of them tipping the chair back over the edge. His heart pounded as he looked at the drop several metres below, but he fought back the desire to scream. He wouldn’t give these boys the satisfaction. Eventually, they stepped back, discussing what else they could do. Scott remembers several minutes of quietly struggling against the school ties and belts the three had used to bind him. He remembers launching himself at one of the three, attempting to knock him down, but getting pushed back. He remembers stumbling backwards into empty space, and a hand, reaching to grab him, save him. He remembers falling.

Abilities:

• Lesser Flight I - 1.7
• Minor Heal I - 1.7
• Muffle I - 1.0
• Scribe I - 1.3
• Shield I - 1.4

Unusuable Abilities

Unspent Skill Points: 3

• Alert - 0.4
• Dextrous - 0.4
• Faster - 0.2
• Harder - 0.2
• Keen Ear - 0.1
• Material Analysis - 0.4
• Mental Resistance - 0.2
• Monster Analysis - 0.1
• Suppress Presence - 0.1
• Stronger - 0.2
• Use Light Equipment - 0.1

Transformations:

Inventory:
A pair of green leggings fashioned from the leaves his ‘parents’ abandoned him in. Not much, and not going to last long, but eh. It's modesty.