Smike

The Curse of Strahd Von Zarovich

-snip-

@ReedeThe23rd

No worries my friend. If and when this happens in the future I'd love to re-apply.

~ 1959: Into the Darkness ~ - Vietnam Dieselpunk [Open]

She had managed to guess correctly. Really it had been simple. There was a grand total of jack shit to do here besides get high and figure out new ways to waste time. Counting the cannons going off was one she had used before. "Those things will take your whole finger off if you don't watch it and run out of ammo just when some fuck gets right up in your face with a bayonet. Switched mine out as soon as possible." Morgan gave the pistol holstered at her side a pat, unwilling to go unarmed even behind lines. "My Hi-Powered is just as deadly and carries more bullets, plus it won't snap my wrist in half when I fire it. And I have a Python for I really need to fuck shit up." Just soldier's talk, a simultaneous dick measuring contest and a way to kill time. "It's Morgan. Miracle Morgan, cuz it's a miracle I'm still alive." She let out a harsh bark of a life, like a rabid dog warning others not to get to close. "And you're Sergeant Whittaker. I'm a leatherneck but they have me just filling in for whoever needs it right now."

That's all she was, the one who did jobs too dirty for others and took the place of people who got themselves shot or blown to pieces or hit with a Section 8. back at boot camp she had gotten saddled with handling the M60 and now there was always some dick was always calling for her to translate what some ditch-digger was babbling about or telling her to get on her belly and crawl into snake infested holes to blow up ammo caches. "That's what they're telling me. If you need a dink to get shot to shit, detonated or spoken to I'm the one who does the shooting, detonating and talking." The angry little bitch rolled her eyes at the warning and took another long drag on her cigarette. "What else is new? If they have a problem we'll work it out." By which she meant she'd feed them their fucking teeth.

And the FNGs opened their mouths. There was a misconception among civilians that Marines were all just rough and tumble ready to roll killing machines. Clearly that wasn't the case, some of them were apparently brain dead bimbos who just narrowly avoided blowing their stupid heads off when they held their first rifle. "Don't call him sir, he actually works for a living."Her rebuke was quick but Lucas was quicker, telling them off immediately. Better he than her honestly. Her reprimand likely would have come as a slap to the face. The Negro mechanic was still there opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water. Couldn't keep up with the conversation huh? Oh well, it wasn't Miracle's job to sit there and wait for her like a kindergarten teacher.

The Sargent's under breath comment hadn't gone unnoticed, Miracle ruminating on it as the fresh meat apologized and he fucked off somewhere. She was adept at hiding her uglier feelings, keeping her face stony as she dealt with her stomach tying itself in knots. "Can you two knock it off with the faggot shit?." There was something especially heart-rending about that kind of language. Her casual racism was easier to explain away, the people here weren’t her mother. Mà was a hard worker who tried her best to make a better life unlike the rest of these coolies. But seeing these two was different. Looking at them meant confronting something she wanted desperately but would never be able to find. "I mean for Crissakes go find a broom closet or something."

Piece by piece and day by day she was growing to hate herself more and more.

The Curse of Strahd Von Zarovich

Temerity

Name: Teremity
Age: 25
Gender: Female
Race: Tiefling

Appearance: Temerity is taller than many of the people she comes across, standing at about 6'2" or even more if you count her horns. Her species is made obvious by the aforementioned horns, red eyes and blue skin marking her out as one of the half-demons. Her hair is left to run freely down to her back, bangs sometimes obscuring part of her face. Well-built and broad-shouldered her powerful arms are usually left bare to show off her muscles.

The traditional robes of her old order have been modified to suit her wants and needs, quilted padding added to the inner lining to give extra protection from attacks and a hood with holes for her horns sewn on to ward off inclement weather. Bronze vambraces and greaves allow her to deflect blows without weighing her down too much. As a final rejection of her vow of poverty Temerity adorns herself with gold and silver jewelry, piercings in her nose, ears and the spade of her tail and thin chains connecting her horns. They draw the eye to her and what she is, forcing people to be aware of her presence. New pieces are added as she picks up trophies from fights.

Favored Alignment Major and Minor Focuses: Major Focus: Chaotic
Minor Focus: Neutral

Favored Class Archetype Major and Minor Focuses: Major Archetype: Skirmisher
Minor Archetype: Divine Magic

Equipment:
-Steel tonfa
-Kusarigama
-Meditation mat
-Robes and armor
-Cestus with silver plates over the knuckles
-Pack with tinderbox, oil, hooded lamp, rope, a waterskin and a whet stone
-Gaming sets with cards and dice
-Woolen greatcoat
-Stiletto hidden in sleeve


Signature Techniques: -Styles: While familiar with others Teremity usually uses two. Viper's Fang focuses on precise strikes to vital areas to cripple foes, while Tiger's Fury focuses on overwhelming their defense with an unrelenting furry of brutal blows. Teremity switches between them as needed, flowing from one to the next and back again to keep the enemy guessing.
-Breakpoint: Channeling her ki into a single strike Temerity can damage or disable equipment by letting energy overwhelm minute imperfections, snapping swords shattering armor and breaking through doors.
-Ki Strike: Lashing out at the enemy with the very universe as her weapon. A blast of solid light leaps from her palm and slams into the target, crushing bones and burning flesh.
-Preternatural Speed: Temerity doesn't rely on the heavy plate mail of a knight but the agility and reflexes of a seasoned martial artist Temerity is capable of dodging attacks and closing distances almost faster than the eye can see. Bounding off walls and sliding between legs the tiefling uses the battlefield to her advantage.
-Dragon's Balance: Her favorite and the newest of all the forms she knows, this style is Temerity's own creation. Allowing her ki to diffuse through her body and spirit Temerity nearly becomes one with universe. Much faster and more powerful than she already is she appears as a whirlwind of limbs and energy blasts moving fluidly from enemy to the next, eyes and horns glowing a pale green. Using this style allows her to perceive “rips” in the universe, teleporting up to fifty feet away. This style takes an extreme toll on her, leaving her drained and vulnerable once it's finished.

History: You'd have to be pretty unlucky to be born a tiefling, or to be abandoned at birth. Some particularly ill-fated children end up being both. Temerity was one of those cursed few, a red-eyed demon child left on the steps of a monastery with nothing more than a blanket and a piece of paper with her name on it. She was brought in the monks and cared for, another lost lamb to raise as part of their flock. This order placed a premium on achieving enlightenment through simplicity in living and mastering their own bodies, eating only plain meals and living in spartan cells. Instead of any one deity they dedicated themselves to studying the natural world and learning to understand the energies that made it work and Temerity would be raised to seek the same understanding.

In theory anyway. In actuality, Temerity was not at all equipped for a life of austere study. Meditation and book learning were so boring they were almost painful, the tiefling constantly sneaking out windows and through side doors to play outside or sneak down to the nearby village instead of doing her studies. By the time she was nine the older monks realized that she would never be a wise scholar or inquisitive researcher. But there was still some hope for her. One of the few daily activities she didn't shirk in favor of mischief-making was her psychical training. The child threw herself into daily runs and sparring matches, practicing the same move hundreds of times over with a dedication that had been unseen before. It wasn't that she was lazy, she simply didn't dedicate time to things that seemed pointless. With martial arts she could watch herself improve and find new goals to meet.

So when she was about ten years old the monks decided to let her immerse herself body and mind in the study of combat to get her to focus on more than idle pleasures. Temerity was able to redirect all that wasted energy into her studies, watching intently as the older monks practiced their forms and working to replicate them as best she could. The young tiefling had a natural aptitude for fighting that was honed to a razor's edge with instruction, building mastery over years of sparring with the other monks and testing herself in bar brawls and prize fights in the town nearby. The daily teachings she had ignored for so long were given begrudging attention, the hot-headed youth learning to calm down and reflect on her inner self find some semblance of inner peace and even subsist without food and water. At seventeen she was an instructor of the young members of the order, teaching them how to harness their energy as she had learned.

But it wasn't meant to last. Temerity was restless withing the confines of the temple, only paying lip service to its structure and tradition because they let her hone her skills. Once she realized they were quickly running out of things to teach her it was only a matter of time before she left to make her own way in the world. The catalyst was when a group of bandits attacked the temple, a foolhardy attempt that was warded off with little loss of life on either side. Temerity begged to be allowed to hunt them down to make sure they wouldn't return but her elders denied her request. The youth was reminded that forgiveness was one of the Heavenly Virtues and vengeance would only weigh her spirit down. It was the the push she needed to leave. Temerity bowed and thanked her masters for taking care of her all these years and giving her purpose and packed up her things, setting out to forge her own path. Out of respect for them the bandits would go unhounded. They were small game anyway. Temerity had rejected the teachings of humility and quiet service to others. She was going to become the best fighter the world had seen, a living legend renowned for her skill or she would die trying.

But before she could do that she would have to finish her training. The next five years were busy, traveling from place to place and taking bounties and winning exhibition bouts for practice by day and meditating to rest and reflect by night. She was working to come up with her own style of martial arts, one that combined physical and spiritual combat better than any of the ones she had been taught. It was slow going, months and months passing without any sort of progress, but her work would eventually pay off. At twenty-four she had it. Her life's work, Dragon's Balance was finally a complete system, rough and contained only in her head but a complete system nonetheless.

Its first few trials by combat were promising illuminated a need for improvement. While undeniably deadly to face the raw strength of body and spirit required was immense. If used for too long she was left completely drained and on the verge of collapse. Most people were completely unable to stand against it for more than a few seconds but particularly dangerous beasts or large groups of well-trained opponents could last long enough that the toll on her body would become unbearable. For the time being she would have to rely on her old teachings while she continued to work on her magnum opus. Her quest led her out of familiar lands and into the dark valley of Barovia to pit herself against whatever challenges she could find.

The Curse of Strahd Von Zarovich

Migrated to characters tab

The Curse of Strahd Von Zarovich

Sounds good. I sorta got hit with some bad stuff all at once so I'm reeling lol. If I cant join I'll definitely be watching!

Smike's Sheets

Temerity

Name: Teremity
Age: 25
Gender: Female
Race: Tiefling

Appearance: Temerity is taller than many of the people she comes across, standing at about 6'2" or even more if you count her horns. Her species is made obvious by the aforementioned horns, red eyes and blue skin marking her out as one of the half-demons. Her hair is left to run freely down to her back, bangs sometimes obscuring part of her face. Well-built and broad-shouldered her powerful arms are usually left bare to show off her muscles.

The traditional robes of her old order have been modified to suit her wants and needs, quilted padding added to the inner lining to give extra protection from attacks and a hood with holes for her horns sewn on to ward off inclement weather. Bronze vambraces and greaves allow her to deflect blows without weighing her down too much. As a final rejection of her vow of poverty Temerity adorns herself with gold and silver jewelry, piercings in her nose, ears and the spade of her tail and thin chains connecting her horns. They draw the eye to her and what she is, forcing people to be aware of her presence. New pieces are added as she picks up trophies from fights.

Favored Alignment Major and Minor Focuses: Major Focus: Chaotic
Minor Focus: Neutral

Favored Class Archetype Major and Minor Focuses: Major Archetype: Skirmisher
Minor Archetype: Divine Magic

Equipment:
-Steel tonfa
-Kusarigama
-Meditation mat
-Robes and armor
-Cestus with silver plates over the knuckles
-Pack with tinderbox, oil, hooded lamp, rope, a waterskin and a whet stone
-Gaming sets with cards and dice
-Woolen greatcoat
-Stiletto hidden in sleeve


Signature Techniques: -Styles: While familiar with others Teremity usually uses two. Viper's Fang focuses on precise strikes to vital areas to cripple foes, while Tiger's Fury focuses on overwhelming their defense with an unrelenting furry of brutal blows. Teremity switches between them as needed, flowing from one to the next and back again to keep the enemy guessing.
-Breakpoint: Channeling her ki into a single strike Temerity can damage or disable equipment by letting energy overwhelm minute imperfections, snapping swords shattering armor and breaking through doors.
-Ki Strike: Lashing out at the enemy with the very universe as her weapon. A blast of solid light leaps from her palm and slams into the target, crushing bones and burning flesh.
-Preternatural Speed: Temerity doesn't rely on the heavy plate mail of a knight but the agility and reflexes of a seasoned martial artist Temerity is capable of dodging attacks and closing distances almost faster than the eye can see. Bounding off walls and sliding between legs the tiefling uses the battlefield to her advantage.
-Dragon's Balance: Her favorite and the newest of all the forms she knows, this style is Temerity's own creation. Allowing her ki to diffuse through her body and spirit Temerity nearly becomes one with universe. Much faster and more powerful than she already is she appears as a whirlwind of limbs and energy blasts moving fluidly from enemy to the next, eyes and horns glowing a pale green. Using this style allows her to perceive “rips” in the universe, teleporting up to fifty feet away. This style takes an extreme toll on her, leaving her drained and vulnerable once it's finished.

History: You'd have to be pretty unlucky to be born a tiefling, or to be abandoned at birth. Some particularly ill-fated children end up being both. Temerity was one of those cursed few, a red-eyed demon child left on the steps of a monastery with nothing more than a blanket and a piece of paper with her name on it. She was brought in the monks and cared for, another lost lamb to raise as part of their flock. This order placed a premium on achieving enlightenment through simplicity in living and mastering their own bodies, eating only plain meals and living in spartan cells. Instead of any one deity they dedicated themselves to studying the natural world and learning to understand the energies that made it work and Temerity would be raised to seek the same understanding.

In theory anyway. In actuality, Temerity was not at all equipped for a life of austere study. Meditation and book learning were so boring they were almost painful, the tiefling constantly sneaking out windows and through side doors to play outside or sneak down to the nearby village instead of doing her studies. By the time she was nine the older monks realized that she would never be a wise scholar or inquisitive researcher. But there was still some hope for her. One of the few daily activities she didn't shirk in favor of mischief-making was her psychical training. The child threw herself into daily runs and sparring matches, practicing the same move hundreds of times over with a dedication that had been unseen before. It wasn't that she was lazy, she simply didn't dedicate time to things that seemed pointless. With martial arts she could watch herself improve and find new goals to meet.

So when she was about ten years old the monks decided to let her immerse herself body and mind in the study of combat to get her to focus on more than idle pleasures. Temerity was able to redirect all that wasted energy into her studies, watching intently as the older monks practiced their forms and working to replicate them as best she could. The young tiefling had a natural aptitude for fighting that was honed to a razor's edge with instruction, building mastery over years of sparring with the other monks and testing herself in bar brawls and prize fights in the town nearby. The daily teachings she had ignored for so long were given begrudging attention, the hot-headed youth learning to calm down and reflect on her inner self find some semblance of inner peace and even subsist without food and water. At seventeen she was an instructor of the young members of the order, teaching them how to harness their energy as she had learned.

But it wasn't meant to last. Temerity was restless withing the confines of the temple, only paying lip service to its structure and tradition because they let her hone her skills. Once she realized they were quickly running out of things to teach her it was only a matter of time before she left to make her own way in the world. The catalyst was when a group of bandits attacked the temple, a foolhardy attempt that was warded off with little loss of life on either side. Temerity begged to be allowed to hunt them down to make sure they wouldn't return but her elders denied her request. The youth was reminded that forgiveness was one of the Heavenly Virtues and vengeance would only weigh her spirit down. It was the the push she needed to leave. Temerity bowed and thanked her masters for taking care of her all these years and giving her purpose and packed up her things, setting out to forge her own path. Out of respect for them the bandits would go unhounded. They were small game anyway. Temerity had rejected the teachings of humility and quiet service to others. She was going to become the best fighter the world had seen, a living legend renowned for her skill or she would die trying.

But before she could do that she would have to finish her training. The next five years were busy, traveling from place to place and taking bounties and winning exhibition bouts for practice by day and meditating to rest and reflect by night. She was working to come up with her own style of martial arts, one that combined physical and spiritual combat better than any of the ones she had been taught. It was slow going, months and months passing without any sort of progress, but her work would eventually pay off. At twenty-four she had it. Her life's work, Dragon's Balance was finally a complete system, rough and contained only in her head but a complete system nonetheless.

Its first few trials by combat were promising illuminated a need for improvement. While undeniably deadly to face the raw strength of body and spirit required was immense. If used for too long she was left completely drained and on the verge of collapse. Most people were completely unable to stand against it for more than a few seconds but particularly dangerous beasts or large groups of well-trained opponents could last long enough that the toll on her body would become unbearable. For the time being she would have to rely on her old teachings while she continued to work on her magnum opus. Her quest led her out of familiar lands and into the dark valley of Barovia to pit herself against whatever challenges she could find.

The Curse of Strahd Von Zarovich

I have a couple of character ideas that I wanna ask about, can I DM you on discord?

The Curse of Strahd Von Zarovich

Tagging because I like Strahd too much

The Curse of Strahd Von Zarovich - A statless take on a D&D classic(NO D&D Experience required!)

I’m not sure yet if I can join, but I’m hella interested

~ 1959: Into the Darkness ~ - Vietnam Dieselpunk [Open]

This fucking country, how the hell did people manage to live here? The schizophrenic weather that jumped wildly from blazing heat and bone dry to merely hot and wet enough to drown standing up, the snakes and bugs that swam through the mud and up your ass, the lack of infrastructure in the pits that most of these rice farm fucks called home, it was like going back into the medieval age. You couldn't step off the path to go piss without stumbling into a dead water buffalo or failed rice paddy, not to mention the tiger traps and landmines left as little go-fuck-yourselves by the VC. No wonder Má had gotten out as soon as she was able to. And now Miracle was here, the stupid white-washed daughter who had decided to pick up a gun to win her father's love. Who knew if it worked, Dad hadn't been especially responsive when she told him the news. He had just grunted and sank into his armchair with his usual five PM beer and back pain, looking down his nose at the tiny little mongrel who refused to tame her choppy hair. It was a signature look of his, he had given it to her when the police dropped her off stumbling and throwing up on herself and when she announced proudly that she had won her boxing match by TKO.

He was sizing her up, trying to figure out if she had the balls to keep going. "Really? Good luck then." He hadn't said she'd need it but it was definitely implied. And it turned out he was right. Boot camp had been relatively simple, getting screamed at and doing intense physical labor wasn't new. But six months into her deployment and she was seriously regretting her decisions. Every patrol that came under fire frayed her sanity a little more, every time some gook with a Jap made mortar opened up on the firebase she wanted to screamed. And each trip down into the suffocating heat of the pitch black rat tunnels made her feel like she was walking directly into Hell. The thought wouldn't leave her even when she was out on R&R, sins real and imagined haunting her as she bet on cockfights or trolled bars for drinks and drugs. Má's favorite priest had warned her that her substance problems would send here there sooner or later, Dad had told her much the same in his off-handed manner when she tried to hint at why she hadn't bought any boys home. Hell was her final destination, the end of the road, and Vietnam was the loading bay.

At least she wasn't out in the shit at the moment. No she was lying on a steel frame cot trying to will her busted fan back into operation with mental power alone and debating whether or not she should bother getting up. The answer was yes, simply because walking would be something different to do. Miracle saw little point in putting on more than her plain white tank top and issue pants, far too hot to wear her full fatigues unless ordered. A single hand scarred and bruised from many a thrown punch, dug into her pocket and produced a cigarette and lighter. Smoking was the probably the least destructive of her vices, Morgan puffing away as she wandered aimlessly.

Within a few minutes she had managed to find herself some company, the sergeant that had been here six months longer, a splotchy skinned Negro grease monkey and two soldiers who she didn't recognize. "Hey, how're you all doing?" Some people were capable of coming up with cool quips and sly entrances on the fly, commanding the room with the power of their presence. Morgan would never be one of them and that was fine with her. The heavy stomping of her boots and her rough tone was as good a greeting as any. "He's counting the artillery going off. That's seventeen." That was her assumption at least, made recklessly without any thought. Just like most of her decisions. The two FNGs set her on edge, Morgan idly tapping her fingers against the pistol holstered at her side. The way they talked and acted suggesting complete novice-hood to the service. Theresa and Linde were either going to learn quick or get themselves killed.

"You know if we're scheduled to go out again soon boss?" Christ she hoped not, if she had to crawl around another fucking tunnel she'd scream.