That's a sweet mash-up!
Also feel unrestrained to ask away on anything, if y'all have any burning questions.
Also feel unrestrained to ask away on anything, if y'all have any burning questions.
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Tanto Monta
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icmasticc
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Coolio, @Lauder! Either would be fantastic!
Yay! We have 3! @Lauder, any inkling of what you would play?
Let me also add to everyone to keep your intricate backstories hidden from everyone else, 'cept me, o'course. This way we can all see them unfold in the IC.
One more item of business: you do not have to know each other, and I would actually prefer isolated strangers from different parts of the world over weaved friendships.
One more item of business: you do not have to know each other, and I would actually prefer isolated strangers from different parts of the world over weaved friendships.
@JBRam2002 Wonderful idea! Your CS is a perfect example.
I've been reading a bit more into Forgotten Realms a bt more, so color me with possible interest! I may make a Warlock of Gilgeam, possibly.
Nice! I can't wait to witness the glory!
Several knocks, bereft of gentleness, struck upon the door to the infirmary chamber housing the maneful Brannor. The verbal exchange of an unrecognized voice and the paladin's growls warranted some urgency from the pirate, as he had recently held watch outside the feral warrior's room in hopes he would stir, as the medics further tended to his wounds.
"Lad, is everything tranquil on your side? May I enter?"
Ascertaining when Kyra visited him last, possibly an hour or so ago, the druid pondered the eavesdropped tone, firm and slow, now inquiring of the identity of the tiger-man. It did not belong to any of the medics nor of Nightill, Longwater, or the Castellan. The old sailor lingered, awaiting for further words to be evoked or another snarl to beckon him inside.
"Lad, is everything tranquil on your side? May I enter?"
Ascertaining when Kyra visited him last, possibly an hour or so ago, the druid pondered the eavesdropped tone, firm and slow, now inquiring of the identity of the tiger-man. It did not belong to any of the medics nor of Nightill, Longwater, or the Castellan. The old sailor lingered, awaiting for further words to be evoked or another snarl to beckon him inside.
Welcome to Waterdeep
This campaign will initially originate within this City of Splendors, but will eventually traverse the many expanses of the Forgotten Realms.
We will be utilizing the 5e rule set, starting at 5th level. Stats will be fettered to a 20 point buy. No magic items at the start, but will be rife throughout this homebrew. You can have any starting non-magical gear you desire (just remember encumberance) plus an additional 250 gold.
Any and all races, alignments, and Unearthed Arcana are allowed, but the CS, in its entirety, must be approved by moi.
Character sheets are to be made using mythweaver and PM'ed to me. Once approved, please post the CS url link in the interest check below.
For maps, I am still anguishing which best visual method to employ.
Combat will be mostly conducted in the OOC, but you can always summarize your action in a post, if you so choose, for literary flava flav. IC posts can span a few lines to multiple paragraphs, if ye so desire, but I do request that once every 1-5 days (out of combat), one either posts in the IC, or just explain what your character is doing in a particular encounter in the OOC, if you are not able to do so. In specific encounters, I may be firm and require a strict IC post (mostly for verbal exchanges), before advancing our tale.
Ideally, once we have a total of 5 players, including my co-DM, @JBRam2002, I will open the IC.
Anything else? Just submit your inquiries, complaints, or comments below.
"I do not want to entertain the thought of being trapped in a building,"
Vengeance reflexively coursed through the paladin’s heart, yearning to betray its rational penitentiary. She appeared to be weary of betrayal amongst those of shared company. Her four angelic chambers ionotropically pumping in disyllabic synchrony, emitting Templar blood to feed the arteries of jealous revenge and the veins of spiteful reprisal. Wick’s intention was no obvious act of treason, but to only separate the warped anguish prowling the wretched evening by an impenetrable floating ring, to slightly reinforce a cage of safety against any peripheral intrusion. The shadows were spirits steeped in blackened brew, doused in gloom incarnate. These pariahs of torment and torture seemingly and obsessively sought out other souls, only to extinguish the light within them.
Yet, supposedly not forever.
“That’s bad! Don't you know things come back to life around here?"
The reborn sage pondered such a hypnopompic derision. The gems would flourish once more, but by what spark.
Time? Light? Word?
His fear suggested no apparent, simple method of destroying such mystical restraints. The gnome’s visible apprehension exalted far beyond what he relished outwardly earlier in battle. The cleric sustained her ritual’s chant, lingering upon the avian carnival confined within the peculiar ornaments.
“Stray not outside into sin, brethren, lest you face the night of an insatiable tomb. Do not fret. The tightrope shoulders either a foot of security or a sole of incarceration, which pangs under such a schismatic burden. Once I relocate, the discus easily follows thus.”
The reincarnated warlock trusted that this response would assuage Thea and any others questioning her aim for a barricade.
“For these stones, I advise we coop them under the guise of glass and soil. Birbin! A cork and empty bottle, please, if you do not dissent. Let us bury the birds.”
Vengeance reflexively coursed through the paladin’s heart, yearning to betray its rational penitentiary. She appeared to be weary of betrayal amongst those of shared company. Her four angelic chambers ionotropically pumping in disyllabic synchrony, emitting Templar blood to feed the arteries of jealous revenge and the veins of spiteful reprisal. Wick’s intention was no obvious act of treason, but to only separate the warped anguish prowling the wretched evening by an impenetrable floating ring, to slightly reinforce a cage of safety against any peripheral intrusion. The shadows were spirits steeped in blackened brew, doused in gloom incarnate. These pariahs of torment and torture seemingly and obsessively sought out other souls, only to extinguish the light within them.
Yet, supposedly not forever.
“That’s bad! Don't you know things come back to life around here?"
The reborn sage pondered such a hypnopompic derision. The gems would flourish once more, but by what spark.
Time? Light? Word?
His fear suggested no apparent, simple method of destroying such mystical restraints. The gnome’s visible apprehension exalted far beyond what he relished outwardly earlier in battle. The cleric sustained her ritual’s chant, lingering upon the avian carnival confined within the peculiar ornaments.
“Stray not outside into sin, brethren, lest you face the night of an insatiable tomb. Do not fret. The tightrope shoulders either a foot of security or a sole of incarceration, which pangs under such a schismatic burden. Once I relocate, the discus easily follows thus.”
The reincarnated warlock trusted that this response would assuage Thea and any others questioning her aim for a barricade.
“For these stones, I advise we coop them under the guise of glass and soil. Birbin! A cork and empty bottle, please, if you do not dissent. Let us bury the birds.”
”I’m Yaschas Dia Nadia… Hello. Oh, yeah... I am a cook.”
The machine could discern that the residual glossy lacrimation enveloping each eyeball insinuated that this young female had recently sobbed. Unfortunately, the amount, frequency, and inciting trigger for the tears were beyond her algorithms. She would have to ASK.
“Greetings and salutations, Chef Nadia! Your specific services will be unnecessary for me as I do not eat for nourishment nor pleasure. I believe everyone else, though, will seek you during times of hunger.”
Stepping up, parading her prosthetic as her lead, she glanced at the various personages comprising of the group behind the stylish Julian, specifically the teenager of the Dia tribe. Her Pulsian red, pink, green and silver attire flamboyantly clashed with the blue wreathes that surrounded her constricted pupils, attracted further attention from Brax.
“Do you cry often? Why so? And please elaborate if sadness accompanies this shedding of biological fluids.”
@Landaus Five-One
The machine could discern that the residual glossy lacrimation enveloping each eyeball insinuated that this young female had recently sobbed. Unfortunately, the amount, frequency, and inciting trigger for the tears were beyond her algorithms. She would have to ASK.
“Greetings and salutations, Chef Nadia! Your specific services will be unnecessary for me as I do not eat for nourishment nor pleasure. I believe everyone else, though, will seek you during times of hunger.”
Stepping up, parading her prosthetic as her lead, she glanced at the various personages comprising of the group behind the stylish Julian, specifically the teenager of the Dia tribe. Her Pulsian red, pink, green and silver attire flamboyantly clashed with the blue wreathes that surrounded her constricted pupils, attracted further attention from Brax.
“Do you cry often? Why so? And please elaborate if sadness accompanies this shedding of biological fluids.”
@Landaus Five-One
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