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Post by Horatius on Oct 15, 2014 12:53:54 GMT -8
feel free to post in-character things here. Letters to others, your character's backstory, and/or other stuff, like talking around a campfire, or your personal journal/diary entries.
Oh, and it'll net you some Bonus XP.
Have fun!
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nora
Active Member
Posts: 39
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Post by nora on Oct 25, 2014 13:26:32 GMT -8
Fen was born in a lake. She did nothing all day but play and swim. Life was a game. Then her village was destroyed by a landslide. She survived because she was on the bank catching frogs, but her parents died. Life was no longer fun. It was hard. She went off on her own and did what she could to survive. She got where she is today from stealing because she was a terrible beggar. One day she snuck into a rich guy’s house (she called them fat cats), and took his fancy gloves. Then she could look through walls all of a sudden. This made things a lot easier. Life was a little more fun now. She taught herself how to fight by sneaking into a monastery and watching the monks practice. They used their fists. That was dumb. She could do a lot more damage with a weapon. Then she saw Needle. He was in the basement of the monastery, in a box labeled “confiscated.” She knew it was taken from a traveler who visited. It was just her size. They became best friends. Some strange travelers came into town and now she’s a legendary hero. What the hell. She knows she fell into the role because she was in the right place at the right time, but she wants everyone to believe she thinks she was born to do this. Life is fun again, but also a little scary.
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Post by Horatius on Oct 27, 2014 10:52:04 GMT -8
Thanks nora! 500 Bonus XP to you (and anyone else who will post a lovely little backstory for us to read)
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Karla
Active Member
Posts: 41
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Post by Karla on Oct 30, 2014 15:03:49 GMT -8
Emerald was born high in the mountains to her single mother. Oreads are not generally a talkative race, but Emerald was able to gather that her father had been a traveler in the mountains who befriended her mother and left soon after. And so her mother birthed and raised Emerald alone through the years. She taught Emerald how to survive in the wilderness, for the most part. Curiosity was Emerald's greatest fault, and it was curiosity that almost killed her. When she was about 11 years old, Emerald was gathering what she thought was blueberries for her mother and decided to sample a few on the walk home. Unfortunately, there were a poisonous sister plant and soon had poor Emerald extremely sick. Her mother was able to concoct a cure to save her daughter but she knew Emerald wouldn't really learn from her mistake. And so she passed on a special ring to her that soon took care of the problem. Sadly, this also allowed Emerald to get into more trouble by letting her have more time on her hands. When Emerald was in her 21st year, she woke up one day to find her mother gone. Her mother had left her a pile of supplies, but she still waited. After several days, Emerald knew she would probably never see her mother again. However, this didn't fill her with great sadness, for this was the Oread way. It could be a lonely path, but it had the possibility to be filled with great beauty. For the next 40ish years, Emerald explored the mountains, climbing high and delving deep. She never really encountered any others, but she often found the items they left behind. Her cave/home was filled with many knick knacks and books that she found. The books filled her mind and left her burning for more knowledge. The mountains could be a lonely place, and there weren't many books or people that could fulfill her lust for knowledge. And so, Emerald finally set her eyes on the town far below her. She left it in her bones, it was time to journey down from the mountain and experience the things her books told her about.
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Post by Horatius on Oct 30, 2014 15:30:20 GMT -8
Wow, another great story! *poof* you are now level 6, due to the 500 Bonus XP you have gained.
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Asia
Active Member
Posts: 60
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Post by Asia on Oct 30, 2014 16:44:38 GMT -8
Noqu’ana. That was a house name that struck fear into the hearts of many drow. If they actually had hearts, that is. Noqu’ana was the eleventh ranked house in the underdark, and they were also the most violent. While they had fewer fighters, their level of dedication to their art was unparalleled by any, and their matriarch was a powerful sorcerer in her own right, so when Noqu’ana marched, it meant there would be a wake of death behind them.
So it was with some trepidation that the other houses learned of the Noqu’ana matriarch’s pregnancy and subsequent birth of not one, but two daughters. It grew quickly apparent that the two girls inherited some form of their mother’s magical ability, the sign of which was a heightened innate ability that manifested as their extra spell-like abilities. Being the eldest, Syndri’I was expected to attend the Academy of Magic, but in a move that was as unprecedented as it was bold, she was instead sent to the Martial Academy instead, and her sister sent in her stead.
As they aged, they proved what a frightening duo they were, with Syn’s skill with a blade, and her sister’s with magic. Under their guidance, and that of their mother, they raised their house to be fifth ranked, and began digging their claws into the ruling monarch, learning to play her as a puppet as much as the houses above and beneath them. Though, sometimes they met with resistance when Syn’s violence would get out of hand.
The House of Noqu’ana was constantly at war.
Due to the level of prestige they’d quickly gained as a house, the monarch offered the sisters positions of honor. At least, that was how it appeared on the surface. Syn was dispatched to the surface to serve as ambassador to the soon-to-be-slaves there, and her sister was named advisor to the queen. Little did they know, they were being played as fools. In one fell swoop, the seventh ranked family attacked, killing Syn’s younger twin while wiping out the Noqu’ana family in one fell swoop.
Then, they added insult to injury by collapsing the tunnels leading to the surface, trapping Syn there instead of killing her with her family as was the drow way.
So, gritting her teeth and baring the harsh light of the surface, Syn found herself wandering the surface for decades. Moving from one town to another, acting the part of a blind warrior. Not that it brought her one iota of respect from these lowly cretin. Luckily for the surface folk, instead of making her more dangerous, the constant diversity and hatred directed at her honed her focus and caused her normally extremely violent disposition to mellow, somewhat.
Everyone has bad days, though, and a dead body here or there wasn’t really her problem. Levitate a bunch of dirt and the evidence is mostly hidden, right?
So one day, when a scroll was pressed into her hand by some shifty looking ratfolk waif who then went on and got himself killed by the city guard. Unfortunately, despite her years learning many languages, the tongue on the scroll was one she did not understand, and so she began her way toward the capital, and maybe someone who could decipher the damned thing.
So began her slow journey to Season’s Hills.
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Post by Patrick on Oct 30, 2014 17:09:32 GMT -8
Deep in the forests of a'Choille Dorch sat the walled community of Draiochta . Draiochta was populated solely by men and women of learning- it wasn't school as much as a research Institute. Rather than just be a college of wizards, sorcerers or clerics, Draiochta was simply a place of study, accepting all who were invited to excel, hidden behind its magically obfuscated walls.
One morning a squalling infant was discovered in a basket, left just inside the gates. No one knew how the security was bypassed, or what the child was--he was tiny, the size of a halfling baby, but was bronze skinned and didn't have any hair or eyelashes. When he opened his eyes finally, his eyes didn't have pupils.
He was raised as a child of Draiochta, cared for in equal manner by both the scholars and the staff. Inhabitants were surprised to find that as they grew old, the child mostly didn't. Decades went by, and he still appeared a toddler. He was a bright, cheerful boy, always with a kind word or a thoughtful gesture, and though he was aware of the existance of evil, he had never seen it until the day Master Draoi interrupted his studies with fire in his eyes.
He must hide. They had finally discovered he was there! Who? No time! He was shoved unceremoniously into the root cellar and told to wait a day and a night before emerging, unless Master Draoi personally returned. He shut the door of the cellar, and left Candide to his own devices.
A day of cries and damage screams mixed with the dull thumps of explosions was followed by a night of silence. Candide kept his word--he waited a day and night before emerging, blinking at the sunlight. Draiochta was gone.
The walls were blasted apart, the towers crumbled. There were no bodies to be found. Candide searched and searched, and everyone from the librarian to Creepy Tom the cleric to Master Draoi had vanished. Candide gathered what money, equipment and supplies he good and left. It wasn't safe anymore . He was a child, alone in the world.
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Post by Horatius on Oct 30, 2014 17:33:55 GMT -8
Asia and Patrick, you also level up! Congratulations!
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Post by odinsbones on Nov 3, 2014 6:14:16 GMT -8
In these pages the reader will find the Journal of the Learned Sage U'tnan Pish'tan and his Study of the Goblin Race. Day 1, Year 1 By Great P'Tah, today has granted me an unprecedented opportunity! Being in need of further funding for my research on the many varied races of Airth, I accepted a commission from the government of Brythenia to participate in the defense of the Capitol against an invading Goblin Horde. Myself and my fellow Wizards, Sorcerers and others opened portals to the Plane of Fire in front of the advancing Horde. It went without a hitch, except some fool of an Ifrit Sorcerer who unfortunately seemed to kill himself when his portal opened wrong. The Horde was utterly wiped out, with no survivors. Except one. While walking through the wreckage, I found a young Goblin child, male, no more than six weeks old. He is completely unharmed, there is not even a single singed hair on his head. The only mark on him is a streak of red hair. I have decided to conceal him, and return with him to my tower. My pay for this distasteful work will allow me to be devoted to his study for quite some time. Day 1,509, Year 4 After years of attempting to give him a real name, I have given up and will refer to my adopted Son as Eating Hawks. There seems to be some small, hardwired Goblin aspect of his brain that refuses to allow him to refer to himself as anything but that. If you ask him, 'Who are you?,' he will only answer, 'Eating Hawks.' My working theory is that Goblins have an innate, descriptive name for themselves. Eating Hawks is otherwise a thoroughly brilliant child, much as a human child of his age would be, excepting the fact that he is substantially more physically advanced than a human would be. He shows a natural gift for languages, and is a quick study of the natural sciences that I have shown him. He is a precocious child, whose mischievousness is matched only by his kindness. While small birds are not safe while he is around, he exhibits little of the bloodlust and rage so common in most of his kind. He has even learned, after a few close calls, which animals (such as my familiar) are not to be harmed. Day 3,343, Year 9 Eating Hawks has grown into a nearly full sized Goblin, and is in fact among the larger of his species (due to his dietary habits, no doubt). He has taken to the study of Alchemy with a dramatic flair. Interestingly enough, he seems to have a small amount of protection against Fire and Flame. I now believe that the circumstances leading to my discovery of the boy were influenced by the Plane of Fire. Of what future bearing this might have I know not. The last time Eating Hawks last returned from hunting (an activity he quite excels at), he was riding a young wolf. It is a tall and lanky specimen, a truly magnificent example of its kind. The two have formed an instant bond, and after mere days they are inseparable. They rarely share my table, preferring instead to hunt small game, seeming as adept at in the city as they are on their country excursions. Day 5,981, Year 16 It seems I was correct in that the Plane of Fire had a great influence on young Eating Hawks. The esteemed Lord Buy'ran encountered Eating Hawks and has inducted him into the Legendary Elemental Enforcer Team!®. While I must admit that they look a comical sight, the small Goblin, riding his wolf into battle. He absolutely refuses to wear the iconic uniform robes, but he has a mastery surpassing even my own in Alchemy, and he rains Fire down on his enemies, more than making up for his lack of magical ability. The adventures the Team have had are already becoming the things of legend. The rescue of the sorceress Mol'ay from the fortress of the Ice Queen; where Eating Hawks sneaked Fire into the very heart of her Winter realm, will be told to incredulous children for years to come. I have no less than three different scrolls, each with a wildly different account of the Battle of the Cold Plains, where Eating Hawks used his rope and tangled the legs of the approaching Elephant Walkers to buy time for the Rebels to escape. Though not born by any effort of mine, though not even the same species, Eating Hawks is my Son, and I could not be a more proud Father. Day 6,205, Year 17 I never thought I would shed tears the day a Goblin left my life. The last months have been chaotic, to say the least. Rifts to other worlds, to other Airths, have been opening all over the world. Some pour forth monsters and Demons. Millions are dead. I have been forced to hide my tower away from the world, as it seems a Devil I banished years ago has returned and seeks vengeance. Only Eating Hawks and I know the secret to find it. Lord Buy'ran has said that the fabric of reality is disintegrating due to an imbalance of elemental forces. It seems Eating Hawks is from one of these other worlds, and if he does not return, if he does not leave likely never to come home again, an infinite number of worlds will perish. What is the sadness of one old man when weighted against all of Creation itself? The young and adventurous spirit, of which there is an ember still kindled inside these old bones, desires nothing more than to join one last crusade and follow along with my son. Alas, it is not to be. Eating Hawks is young and full of life and potential. I must trust that I have succeeded in molding a young life into one that will be a force for good in the Universes. That I have been as good of a Father as he has been a Son. I trust, hope, and pray, for my son now goes to live his own life. May it be a full one.
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Post by Horatius on Nov 3, 2014 10:46:10 GMT -8
Wow! A detailed and interesting story. Thank you Steve, you easily earned your 500 Bonus XP, and are 6th level.
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Karla
Active Member
Posts: 41
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Post by Karla on Nov 6, 2014 9:36:04 GMT -8
Emerald has a blog! It will essentially act as her journal, which she addresses to her mother. It can be found at stonecoldemerald.tumblr.com .
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Asia
Active Member
Posts: 60
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Post by Asia on Nov 8, 2014 10:21:07 GMT -8
It wasn’t a new situation to Syn to be sitting beside a dying fire at a lakeside, drawn sword on her lap; the fire’s glowing embers gently warming her back as she stared out into the darkness. She was used to being alone in situations such as these. Seemingly none would want to spend time with a surface-stranded drow, and the fighter didn’t mind it. It tended to be peaceful as well.
A snore from behind cut across her silent musing, causing her to turn and give the creature in question a bland stare.
At least, solitude would have been peaceful, but she’s seemed to find a group of people to travel with who don’t mind the fact that she’s a drow. Granted, most of them don’t seem to understand just what her people do or were capable of, and they were too naïve to believe the stories apparently. That was the more likely option to the somewhat cynical woman, considering the fact that the other option would have been that they just didn’t care. That’s crap. No one does that.
Shifting in her sheltered perch, Syn gave a small grimace of discomfort as her injuries pulled slightly. Right. She’d nearly forgotten. She was still somewhat injured from her brief bout of stupid heroism against a golem. Honestly, what was she thinking? Sacrificing herself to be a distraction for a party that included a damned paladin. A sacrifice that none of those morons even took.
Paladins. Why were they even a thing? She didn’t like paladins. Partly because they took themselves far too seriously. Honor, and doing the good thing? Psh. That’s just a terrible idea on a good day. Not to mention, she’s been on the receiving end of that damned smite. Too bad the moron couldn’t see in the dark, she’d have fared much better while trying to smite the fighter, but instead, she felt Syn’s sword wedge itself in her chest, giving her another hole to breathe from. Not that it kept Syn from getting a disgusting scar running the length of her side, and to think, her skin had been flawless until then. The Bilge.
Then she had to get healed by the paladin. Damned creep. He deserved that punch to the face, either for being creepy or calling her an elf. An elf! She was truly well within her rights, despite the obvious disagreement of the rest of her mismatched group. Ah, well, what would they know? They’re all just children anyways. They’d figure out she was right eventually. And until then, she could just sit back and watch the show. And hopefully keep herself from doing anything stupidly heroic again. Like save the paladin…not her best moment.
Heroism gets people killed, and Syn had unfinished business.
Glancing across the fire at the sleeping sylph, Syn mused on how easy it would be to walk over there and slip her sword into Pal just for being a paladin. It would be all too easy. She wasn’t wearing armor; he probably wouldn’t even hear her coming.
Then again, the noise of his death would probably wake the others, and even she wasn’t reckless enough to take on two spell casters, an alchemist, and a sneak all by herself. Which is what it would be. Not odds that she liked.
Besides, the paladin grew on her a bit. Once she ignored the general creepiness of him. And the fact that he was a paladin. And his complete lack of common sense. But just because she doesn’t want to go through the actual effort of outright killing him doesn’t mean she likes him. He’s just not worth the effort. He’s a useful, somewhat easily manipulated tool to use anyway. Delicate paladin sensibilities. Can get them to do damned near anything if you spin it right.
Whether the others could be manipulated as well remains to be seen. Emerald is naïve enough that a quick lie could convince her of most anything. But Candide not so much. Though, she rather liked everyone but the paladin. And maybe if things had been different in her past, thus not having a bias against paladins, she might have liked him as well just because he’s usually somewhat amusing, in an “I need serious help with my armor” sort of fashion.
Though…her lack of desire to kill for the sake of killing was slightly concerning. She used to find thrill in the act of murder. Murder and many other vices. Now, though, she didn’t have that same desire for pure evil.
If she even found a way back, Syn had a feeling she wouldn’t ever fit in amongst her people again.
With that thought, the drow pushed herself to her feet and stretched her lithe form, slipping her sword back into its sheath at her hip. Taking a good look around before moving, she walked down to the water’s edge and crouched down, dipping her hands into the water before rubbing them over her face carefully.
That was a heavy thought, never being able to return home.
Shaking her hands off, Syn carefully used her sleeve to dry her face and rise back to her feet, some of the chains on her long, back-swept ears making a soft noise against the other piercings there as she tips her head back to stare up at the sky above. Even on the darkest nights, it’s bright in this world in comparison to her homeland.
Turning back to look at the group she’s found herself surprisingly part of, Syn frowns slightly. An oread sorcerer, a sylph creep-paladin, an otter sneak, a goblin arsonist, and a halfling sorcerer. These were the strange people that accept her despite her race. The drow fighter, never to see her homeland again.
Is this what counts as friends? Drow don’t have friends…they have tentative allies. But these are not allies. They sleep while she remains awake. Tentative allies do not.
So what is this?
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Asia
Active Member
Posts: 60
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Post by Asia on Nov 8, 2014 11:35:37 GMT -8
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Post by Patrick on Nov 9, 2014 4:59:02 GMT -8
This is great! Write more!
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Post by Horatius on Nov 10, 2014 12:46:38 GMT -8
Awesome! More! More! I think there should be some Bonus XP for both Karla and Asia for their stories... I'll muse over an amount.
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Post by Patrick on Nov 10, 2014 22:52:14 GMT -8
Agreed! They make me want to write, too.
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Post by Patrick on Nov 13, 2014 19:13:10 GMT -8
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Post by Horatius on Nov 14, 2014 13:10:23 GMT -8
Just to be clear, I'm giving out Bonus XP for stories and pictures- 50 XP for a session story (once per session), and 75 XP for a character picture (if you create more than one we'll talk).
Thus, Karla has earned 100, Asia and Patrick have eared 50, and Steve has earned 75.
Other things you can consider for Bonus XP - dressing up as your character, making props for your character, making a video or game about your character, or really anything creative! I love it all!
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nora
Active Member
Posts: 39
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Post by nora on Nov 14, 2014 20:22:39 GMT -8
I was feeling left out so I made a blog for Fen. She doesn't keep a journal, so it's just an internal monologue. justfenthings.blog.com/
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Asia
Active Member
Posts: 60
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Post by Asia on Nov 14, 2014 22:16:37 GMT -8
Lol. That's awesome! Totally amusing.
The one I'm writing this week seems to be rather dark so far, and it will probably get worse. Just a warning.
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