Looking for 2 - 3 players for a 4e Campaign

Hello roll20. I am currently running a 4th edition D & D game on Fridays at 7 pm EST. We usually stop around 10:30 pm but sometimes we've gone a little later. The game is run here on roll20 but I prefer to use skype for voice chat. Anyone interested needs to have or set up a skype account and have a mic. Although I am just running premade mods at the moment, I try to put my own spin on them so if you have happened to play them before, things won't be exactly the same. My current group has completed Keep on the Shadowfell and are nearly finished with Thunderspire Labyrinth. As the mods would suggest, the campaign is based in the Nentir Vale setting; however, it is homebrewed a bit. The world has gotten a little better than the regular description would suggest. Fallcrest, one of the major settlements in the region, has grown into a bustling city and people are starting to reclaim abandoned outskirts from the wilds. Travel is still risky enough that mercenaries are necessary but many folks are willing to risk the danger and some even luck out to have no trouble at all. Beasts, bandits, insane magic users and marauding monsters are a problem but dealing with these threats are the bread and butter of the adventuring life. As far as group composition, we have a half-elf bard, a gnoll fighter and a goliath warden. There are a few NPCs that are combat capable so they often fill in necessary roles. I try to give some life to my npcs. Allies or enemies, unless they are mindless, animals, or exceedingly stupid, they usually have their own goals and agendas. As our bard has proven on several occasions, you don't have to always hack-and-slash your way out of situation...but sometimes, its unavoidable too. If it wasn't clear enough, I favor roleplay over roll-play. One of my house rules is that if you describe your attack instead of saying, "I use X power." I will often give you a bonus to the attack roll. I also appreciate it when my players get creative. If you want to try something crazy, speak up. While I reserve the right to say no, I might just let you try it. Character Creation Info Name: What is your character's name? Gender: Do I really need to explain this? Just so long as there are no "its" I'll be happy. Even warforged are designed with a "gender" in mind. Level: You will be making a level 7 character for this game. Races: I don't have any restrictions regarding races but obviously some npcs will react negatively to monster races. Classes: As with races, no restrictions but some npcs react negatively to darker themed classes assuming you let them know the truth (Warlocks, Blackguards, Assassins, etc). Alignment: NO EVIL ALIGNMENTS! This is my HARD line in the sand and I will not change my mind on it. This is meant to be a game of heroes and if I were to place the current group's alignment, they are Neutral Good with Chaotic tendencies. It's alright to take a dark-themed class so long as your character is trying to rise above the stigma surrounding it. Good or neutral alignments only. Feats: All players get the Improved Defenses Feat for free. They also get 1 Expertise Feat of their choice for free. Appearance and Personality: These should be self-explanatory. While I'll be focusing more on back story, I'd like to see a decent amount of detail in both of these. Back Story: I'll say this up front, I LOVE novels. The more details you give me to work with, the better. There is no such thing as overkill and a single paragraph won't impress me. For those who have trouble with expanding your story, think about the following questions: Where was your character born?, Who were his/her parents? How was he/she raised? Did your character have any close friends, rivals, enemies when they were growing up? How did your character choose their profession? Why? What are three things your character would want to accomplish before he or she dies? This is not first come, first served. I'm going to go over all applications placed here. I have no problems with players doing a little world building of their own. If you want to create your own town or village as a birthplace for your character, that is perfectly fine. I only ask the following, your character winds up in Fallcrest at the end of whatever story you write. Since you won't be starting at level 1, I want your character to have an adventure or two of their own under their belt. It can be anything as simple as finding a lost farm hand or complex as helping defend a town from an orc raid. It just has to be an example of your character doing something noteworthy. Themes and Background Bonuses: My rule on this is that you can have both bonuses BUT they must match the back story you have told me. So, if you want the Merchant background bonus (+2 to diplomacy or bluff), I had better see that your character was a merchant at some point in their life. I'll give you a little wiggle room with Themes so long as I don't have to make a grand canyon sized logic jump to understand how it fits with your background. Equipment: As far as equipment goes, its standard for a starting 7th level character. That means you start off with the following One 6th level or lower item of your choice One 7th level or lower item of your choice One 8th level or lower item of your choice 1,800 gold. Note: If you choose to take a lower level item, you do NOT get to keep the gold difference. I'd also ask that you refrain from acquiring items listed as rare quality. Common and Uncommon items only. Anything from the DDI Character builder is considered acceptable so long as it doesn't break the rules mentioned above. Like I said earlier, this not First Come, first served. I'll keep this ad open for most of this month. 11/25 will be the cut off date for applications and I will spend that week choosing my players. I will send out invites on Dec 1.

Hello! I love the look of your campaign, as well as your focus on roleplay. I have only played pathfinder before but would like to expand as my last campaign recently had to stop due to the DM being unable to continue. I was wondering if you had any good online resources for 3.5 and if you would be willing to help a newer player through it. Thanks!

I have no qualms about accepting new players to 4th edition. Once you hammer out a concept I can help you make that concept into a reality. Unfortunately, there is no free source that I know of for the system. Wizards of the Coast has a vice grip on that (at least through legal channels). 4e is similar to the previous system but things have been streamlined quite a bit (Fighters and Bards are just as powerful as Wizards and Clerics, a few skills have been merged into one major skill (perception = search, spot and listen), characters start out more powerful than their 3.5 counterparts). I say focus on the story itself and we can worry about the sheet later.

I was wondering, is there a cavalier or other mounted class in 4th edition? Or a way to make it happen? I'm working on writing her appearance and need to know if mounted combat is a possiblity before her backstory.

Is there a specific class that focuses on mounted combat? No. However, there are options if you want to go that route. First off, any character regardless of class can ride a mount. However, characters that take the Mounted Combat Feat can also use the special abilities of their mount such as trample or fly-by-attack depending on the mount. Pushing things further, there is a Theme option called Chevalier which grants you additional options such as a bonus to athletics and acrobatics while mounted. There are also magic items and rituals that can increase the effectiveness of your mount. The main downside to mounts is that they all have set stats meaning a mount you gain in the low levels could be utterly useless come mid-tier. However if you really have your heart set on mounted combat and you don't want to constantly trade up animals, I'd be willing to work out a house rule to allow your beast to level with you.

Sorry to intrude, but an almost necessary houserule for Mounted Combat is to allow your mount to take moves the PC is granted by powers/items/abilities/etc. Otherwise, you end up being less mobile while mounted than you are normally.

Thinking on it further, that's true. While quite a few mounts can move faster than the base speed for your average character, there are powers that grant extra movement as well. I agree with the above statement and would allow you to use move based powers with your mount if you took Mounted Combat. No need to apologize dfn. Its a fair comment and I'm glad you pointed it out.

Would you be willing to look over what I have so far, to ensure it's going in the right direction?

Go ahead and post the concept as is or PM me if you want to refine it and come up with your sheet first before posting the final product.

Very interested in joining this. I have a couple of ideas on what character I might roll and already some backstory thoughts in my head. I'll be submitting here rather soon.

I've been looking for a group like this! The time works perfectly for me too. :) How long do you expect this group to run? If we're creating a grand story together, I hope we'll be able to enjoy it for a while. I'd love to play a Hengeyokai character because they are loaded with thematic awesomeness. This dude is like the hare from the Redwall series, but more ninja. @Steve, There's actually a variant of the Paladin called the Cavalier who has a divine mount that is built into his class (and for a feat you can upgrade it to a "Celestial Battle Tiger". Who doesn't love battle tigers?

Darn to bad this game is not bein played on a sat or sun ... O well back to the boards!

This sounds like just the kind of thing I'd love to do. I will start writing up the Background of a character and see what we can do with it. Dumb Question: Seeing as we're starting at 7th Level, will characters start with any sort of Magic Items, and if so, how will we/you determine what they might be? Thanks.

As far as equipment goes, its standard for a starting 7th level character. That means you start off with the following One 6th level or lower item of your choice One 7th level or lower item of your choice One 8th level or lower item of your choice 1,800 gold. Note: If you choose to take a lower level item, you do NOT get to keep the gold difference. I'd also ask that you refrain from acquiring items listed as rare quality. Common and Uncommon items only.

Name: Hiro Starr [OoC: Named after Hiro Nakamura and Star Fox] Race: Hengeyokai (Fox) Gender: Male Class: Rogue|Assassin/Warlock (predominantly uses rogue powers and abilities, so his Assassin/Warlock nature can be easily hidden) Out of Combat Roles: 1. Scout (incredible Stealth, good Perception, and great mobility) 2. Infiltrator/Assassin (incredible Stealth, decent Bluff, and Assassin poisons) 3. Thief (great Thievery) 4. Conversationalist (decent Bluff and okay Insight) In Combat Roles: 1. Single target Striker (equally comfortable in melee or ranged) Alignment: Neutral/Chaotic Good Appearance: <a href="https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/2510394/Roll20/FoxNinja.jpg" rel="nofollow">https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/2510394/Roll20/FoxNinja.jpg</a> Backstory: Hiro woke with a start. Everything was blurry at first, but slowly came into focus. He was drenched in sweat, his fur plastered to his skin with a black inky substance. Copper tubes were painfully attached to his body - boring deeply into his flesh. He instinctively tried to shift to his fox form, but as he did a thousand volts of agony surged through him. After he'd stopped seizing, his reality suddenly rushed back to the surface. And hit him like a Mac truck. Hengeyokai are a sparse and nomadic people. They are creatures of two worlds and two natures - being just as much one as the other. They are both spiritual and natural creatures. Fey and mundane. Intelligent beast and wild humanoid. Hiro lived as many of his clan did - on the move, stealing his meals rather than earning them, and playing practical jokes on the slow and dim-witted humans who occupied the land. Hengeyokai are used to being disliked by humans, and in general are apathetic to the annoyance and irritation their actions cause. Their greatest virtue also provides their greatest source of irritation for humankind - they embody freedom. Spirit beings are not creatures bound, and it is deep in their heart that all of creation should be free. From the farmers' livestock to imprisoned slaves. They cannot abide captivity. This is why Hiro's circumstance was the worst a Hengeyokai could face. Torture was unnecessary - imprisonment was enough. Imprisonment is an anathema to the Hengeyokai existence. Hiro came to himself again, and remembered his plight. And after screaming and straining against his bonds, he wept. For three days he had been penned up in this machine, this dark contraption, and every moment of it felt like death. He'd tried to shift several times, but something kept him bound to his hybrid form. As fey and natural creatures, Hengeyokai have a very strong connection to the spiritual realm. Older Hengeyokai could even freely converse with spirits and fey creatures while in the natural realm. But when Hiro reached for the fey part of himself, he found a void. No, not a void exactly; but a slithering, dark, blackness was slowly filling up his soul. Hiro instinctively knew that if he did get out of here, if he didn't get free of this machine, he would cease to be... Hiro. Something else, something vile, would occupy his existence. "You're almost ready," a voice said from the shadows. "Free me!" Hiro screamed with fury. Why am I yelling , Hiro thought. That's not like me... The man smiled. "Oh? You must be further along into the transfusion than I thought. Have you finally stopped resisting it? I tell you plainly, your self-identity, your freedom ," he spat, "is overrated." He circled Hiro checking some gauges. "You know you're quite a rare find. A species that seamlessly straddles two planes of existence... Once I found you sniffing around the base of my tower, I simply had to have you. I give you a half a day at best. Then you're annoying fey parts will be no more, and I'll be able to fully combine your spirit with the eternal shadow." Hiro hissed at the man, but this only brought attention to how helpless he really was. "Oh don't be that way! What your doing will be of great benefit to... well to me, really. It's for posterity's sake!" The man laughed and began to walk back into the shadows. "I'll see you in the morning! Well, I'll see something since it won't really be you anymore." ... Hiro was running through fields of tall, withered grass. He didn't know how he got there, but knew that if he stopped he'd be dead... Worse than dead - he'd be... not himself. "Run little fox," a voice spoke lovingly to him. "Run southwest towards the city of Fallcrest. Help will find you." Hiro looked to where the voice had come, but all he saw was the night's pale moon giving it's light to his path. As he ran, the shadows themselves began to cover his skin and in that moment he knew that though he had escaped the schemes of the mad wizard, he had not left unmarked. Hiro ran into the night, and well into the next day and evening. All told, he ran for two days without stopping - drawing on reserves of endurance that threatened his very life. On the second day as the moon shone, he had finally had enough. His running had be come a trot, which had become a crawl, until he found himself staring out upon a shimmering lake as the world closed in around him. ... Hiro's sister wiped at his brow, and whispered softly to him. He was confused why she was there; he hadn't seen her in nearly a hundred years. He slowly opened his eyes to ask her what was going on, when he realized the person dabbing his forehead wasn't his sister, but a human woman - late into their life cycle. Seeing him awake, she sat back to give him some space and smiled. From the shadows behind her, a voice greeted him gently, "So you're awake, spirit." Hiro froze and glanced down at his body. Hengeyokai didn't reveal their true nature often, and in his fatigue he hadn't had the energy to shift to his fully human form. "Don't worry little fox; you'll find yourself unharmed." Little fox, Hiro thought. That's the second time I've been called that recently... A medium-sized human stepped forward where the light between the wooden beams could strike his face. He was of average build, in his late fifties, and balding at the peak of his head. Hiro would have thought him a farmer based upon the dirtiness of his skin, but his deliberate, graceful movements suggested he was much more than that. The man made a gesture, and the woman stood up and left the room. After she did this, he sat down across from Hiro and motioned to the table next to him. "Tea?" he asked. Hiro was weary of accepting anything from the stranger, but he knew in his current state he could not survive without the stranger's assistance, and it would be unwise to refuse him. As words would not come to his lips, he nodded in reply. This seemed to please the man, who poured the scalding brew into to cups of fine china. They were of nicer make than what any farmer Hiro was familiar with could afford - should they even have the inclination to own such a thing. He accepted the tea from the man, and began to sip at it, when he realized this was impossible for him to do in his current form. The man's eyes danced in the sunlight, and he sat back as if to see what Hiro would do. A cold rage began to boil up in Hiro, who does this man think he is? Is he trying to see all my forms? I should... Hiro stopped. That darkness wasn't him. Hiro could tell it came from a place deep inside him, but not from within him. It's as if there's a gaping pit where a piece of himself once occupied, and in that pit was a deep, black, nothingness. Since his life was already in this man's hands, it couldn't hurt to let the man know what he was dealing with. With more effort than it usually took, his body shimmered and he assumed his human form so he could drink the tea. The man sucked in a breath, "Marvelous. She wasn't kidding when she said you were unique." Hiro glanced at the man, "She?" The man smiled, "The goddess. For generations our clan has worshipped the goddess Sehanine. I suspect it began as a... professional relationship," he paused, "but in time we found the true heart of the goddess and now we do so with our full devotion. It was she who informed us of a unique creature that had fallen near our fishing lake. You, logically." Hiro flashed back to his escape. That voice, he thought, was that Sehanine speaking to me? "Your goddess sent you to me? For what purpose?" The man shrugged, "she didn't say. I imagine she knows an explanation is not necessary with us." He stood up, readying himself to leave. "You have a long recovery ahead of you, little fox. Rest yourself now and we'll talk more later." As the man began to leave, Hiro called after him, "wait, who are you? And where am I?" The man smiled as he shut the wooden door, "My name is Kisuke, and this is House Starr." ... Hiro stayed as a guest of House Starr for many years, healing his soul as well as his body. Though it was unlike Hengeyokai to stay stationary for so long, he lost himself in the constant chores, meditations, and lessons Kisuke assigned him. With time he began to even feel the intentions of Sehanine, though he never heard her as clearly as he did that first night. She was preparing him for something - a greater journey of some sort. In the seventh autumn after his arrival, he was practicing a new fighting style with Kisuke, iaijutsu, when something extraordinary happened. As he lunged at Kisuke with his short sword, his own shadow seemed to wrap around him and hide his movements from the world. Kisuke was startled, but still managed to parry Hiro's strike. Hiro stopped and looked at his paws. "What was that?" He exclaimed. Kisuke sheathed his sword, and looked solemnly at Hiro. "I think I now know why Sehanine sent you to us specifically." He began walking towards the clan's temple, "Come with me, there's something I need to show you." Hiro followed him into the temple, watching as Kisuke neeled before the shimmering waters of the meditation pool. Slowly he peeled back his sleeve and submerged his hand into the pool, grappled with something, then made a twisting motion. As he withdrew his hand, the statue of Sehanine across the room made a grinding noise and began to shift along the far wall. Behind it was poorly lit hallway! Motioning for Hiro to follow, Kisuke walked into the hallway and continued forward as the ground sloped downward. The statue shut behind them, but Kisuke seemed to know exactly where he was going even without any light. Hiro felt foolish for having a hard time following him, since his vision was naturally better than any humans'. Suddenly Kisuke stopped and snapped his fingers. Sparks flung from his hands and each ember flew in different directions to find a torch along the walls. Hiro had to admit that the old man had some serious style. Hiro was amazed by what he saw, the room was filled with weapons, masks, armor, and even some kaiga - paintings that tell stories in the unique style of the Starr clan. Kisuke motioned to one such kaiga on the left side of the room and Hiro walked towards it. "Our clan is an old clan, so old that we can trace our roots to the first people who came here from another plane of existence. To our shame, we came here as little more than murderers and assassins, helping one faction - be it clan, king, or court - gain dominancy over another. In our old world, we worshiped our emperor as a god, but here we found a whole new pantheon of deities. We studied them and soon came to consider the goddess Sehanine as our patron. This is what I meant when I once told you that we initially worshiped her out of a professional allegiance." Kisuke pointed to the next kaiga in the series, "eventually we learned of the heart of Sehanine, and she began to speak with us. Though we were children of the night, she brought warmth to our souls, and love to our hearts. Slowly, our clan began to change, and ceased selling our services to the highest bidder. We lost a fair amount of power and prestige in this, but we saw ourselves as ambassadors of a holier purpose. Now we hone our ancient craft for the service of the goddess, and it does our hearts good. We no longer bring unrest and disorder to the lands, but grater measures of stability - or in some cases balance." "You mean you receive assignments directly from Sehanine?" Hiro said, shocked. "Sometimes," Kisuke admitted, "but usually we take on missions that are merely in line with her teachings and spirit." "First," Kisuke stated, "Follow your goals and seek your own destiny. We will not be puppets of any other being or power. Second," he continued, "Keep to the shadows, avoiding the blazing light of zealous good and the utter darkness of evil. Sehanine is a goddess of temperance and balance, and we strive for the same. Third," he finished, "Seek new horizons and new experiences, and let nothing tie you down. We value freedom above all things; freedom to move, freedom to chose, and the freedom to love whom we see fit." Turning to Hiro, Kisuke explained, "this is why we chose to love you when you first came to us, though you were a different race than us. And I suspect," Kisuke pondered, "that this is why Sehanine favors you so. Your nature is naturally similar to her own." Kisuke paused, then walked over to a small altar in the middle of the room. "This," he breathed reverently, "is the First Stone." The stone was made of a porous black substance, soft to the touch, but hard and uncrushable. As Hiro stared at it, he felt as though all the light in the room seemed to fade away and be absorbed into the stone's existence. "Ages ago," Kisuke continued, "when we first began to worship the goddess in earnest, she visited our head clansmen, my great great great grandfather. She gave him this stone, and told him that one day, our people would find a being of incredible destiny. We would know who he was by three means: his heart would reflect her own as the moon reflects the sun, his body would absorb the light as easily as this stone, and his power would be made evident under an autumn sky." Kisuke looked at Hiro, "She meant this for you, Hiro." Hiro stared at the stone, and felt it calling out to him. He reached out his paw, and touched it... and the world went white. Every crevice, every shadow, every nook was as plain to him as day. He looked at his fur, and saw it shimmer with an inky blackness, but it wasn't cold anymore. "Hello, little fox." A pleasant voice cooed to him, "It looks like you're ready." Hiro pulled back his hand and the world returned to normal. Kisuke looked bewildered, but not surprised. "For a moment, you seemed to cease to exist, though I know you were right in front of me. Did you hear from the goddess?" Hiro sighed, forlorn. "I did and I fear it may be time for me to finally leave." ... Personality: Hiro used to be a lighthearted prankster, as many Hengeyokai are. Recently he escaped a fate worse than death - as an experiment for the mad necromancer Bageron. Now dark thoughts fill his mind, not all of them his own. How much of the old Hiro exists within himself? How much is something else? Ultimate Motivation: Fey motivation: to bring freedom to all in captivity. Shadow motivation: to get revenge against his captivator Bageron and other necromancers like him. Immediate Goal: To follow Sehanine's instruction and embark upon the great journey she has for him. <a href="https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/2510394/Roll20/HiroStarr.pdf" rel="nofollow">https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/2510394/Roll20/HiroStarr.pdf</a>

For the record, Neverwinter and the Nentir Vale are located in two separate worlds. Walking from one to the other is impossible and requires magical (Portals) or technological (Astral Ships) means. That being said, I was planning to eventually introduce the players to Sigil, the city of doors. Sigil is a nexus that has portals both natural and conjured to other realities. This would in turn open up other worlds to the group. I'm not outright saying Hiro is out but his backstory needs to be reworked to reflect the fact that he left one realm to travel to another.

hey, sounds interesting. thinking of making a tiefling psion, but I was wondering how learning rituals works when making a level 7 character. should i pick rituals in place of magic items? reduce my gold by the cost of the rituals learned? or just assume that i do not have any rituals aside from those granted by my class?

I really don't recommend using your three free items for ritual selections. It is better to just acquire a weapon, armor and neck piece with those three freebies. I won't stop you if you really want to go that route but that's my two cents. Still, you can buy any rituals you want with your starting gold of 1800. Just remember that you will be paying the market price for them. Psions get a ritual book for free plus the choice of either Sending or Tenser's Floating Disk and one more 1st level ritual for free. As per the rules, you can only learn rituals that are your level or lower. If you buy any rituals pre-game, I'll treat it as if you mastered them. I am fairly generous in loot and I have on occassion dropped ritual books so there are opportunities to find or buy more in the future.

Name: Oris of Whitepeak, "He Who Was Lost" Gender: Male Level: 7 Races: Deva Classes: Avenger Alignment: Chaotic Good Feats: Unarmored Agility Astral Enmity Weapon Proficiency - Fullblade Skill Focus - Intimidate Heavy Blade Expertise Appearance and Personality: Standing at 6'3", there is something noticeably... off about Oris. Unlike most deva, there seems to be no uniformity to the mixture of light and dark colours on his skin. It almost appears that his mostly heavy grey skin is mottled with patches of purple, azure, black. The intricate patterns that appear with other deva, stylistic and complete, are not present with Orin; instead, he looks to be a jumbled mess of colours and shapes. The only feature that remains consistent is his hair colour, an ashen grey. His hair is usually cropped to the temples with a ponytail at the back that reaches down to the bottom of his neck. As for his body, he is very slender and suitably comely, as befits the deva standard. His pure white eyes are set deep into pits in his angular face, with noble cheekbones and a prominent jawline. Despite his usual menacing appearance, Oris is a quiet, soft-spoken individual that rarely raises his voice above a flat whisper. He prefers to stand by and watch from the shadows, calculating, deliberating. On issues of moral nature, Oris is never the first to argue for good to prevail or to adopt an ethical standard - he has long ago realized that there is no dissuading the, in his mind, innate cruelty of mortals. Instead, he acts privately, working towards his own goals and trying to be mindful of the wishes of others. He will not try to convince a criminal to give up their thieving life on the eve of some heist, but will instead break their legs upon witnessing them in the act of robbery. He is very pessimistic for a deva, utterly convinced of the futility of struggle in a world that is ceaseless and prone to chaos, but nevertheless fights for justice, as he has always done. Back Story: Hidden near the frontier of the Stonemarch, deep within a valley shielded by the Cairngorm Peaks, is the monastery of Whitepeak. It consists of one large abbey structure that crawls up the side of a mountain and is home exclusively to deva that are servants of the god Bahamut. Whitepeak is an unusual structure in that it serves as a permanent home for deva; the original inhabitants of the monastery are still being reincarnated in Whitepeak, continually awaking to their new lives inside its hallowed chambers. Here, they take it upon themselves to train in the arts of divine magic and martial combat, in order to better serve as Bahamut's will in the Nentir Vale. Oris, though his memory has long since faded to the recesses of time, has been born and reborn here countless times, and has been trained in every single one of his lifetimes as an avenger of justice, one of Bahamut's sworn swords. In this particular lifetime, however, Oris was faced early on with great difficulty. Immediately upon waking in the Chamber of Rebirth and presenting himself to his fellow deva, he was assailed by oaths, curses, lamentations that one such as he could be reborn. They thought him a plague upon their abbey, proven by his unusual skin discoloration. Confused, perplexed by this remarkably violent reaction to his revival, Oris sought out the head monk of the abbey in order to determine exactly what his former selves had done to earn such condemnation. And what he learned shocked him. For Oris was a deva that had not been reincarnated for over two thousand years. When he had last walked the earth, he had been one of the greatest of the abbey's avengers, a fearsome slayer of the unjust, a moral beacon for the other monks to latch onto. He was brave, he was valiant, he was wise. He had helped to steer many mighty empires to glory with the sharpness of his tongue and quickness of his blade. In other words, he had been thought perfect by the other monks of Whitepeak, who believed him to be a true avatar of Bahamut. But then there came a challenge that destroyed even that great and mighty shadow of Oris. One of their number, in the pursuit of a great demon, had fallen prey to its corruption and been transformed into a terrible and wicked rakshasa. This foul spirit threatened to tear apart Whitepeak, and Oris took it upon himself to bring an end to his fallen brother. He ventured out into the wilds alone, armed only with his blade and his faith, determined to destroy the rakshasa and purge the land of its evil. But the rakshasa proved to be clever, strong, and completely ruthless in its scheming, and Oris found himself outwitted at every turn by the beast. The hunt ended up consuming Oris completely. He resorted to more and more extreme methods of battling the rakshasa, attacking its mortal servitors savagely, dismantling the organizations that entered into alliance with the spirit. He killed criminals, wizards, witches, and kings. He slaughtered his way through gangs, noble houses, temple attendants. Once he burned an entire city down in his mad drive to bring the rakshasa to justice. When all was said and done, Oris had proved to be victorious in slaying his hated opponent, at the cost of his own soul. The other devas abhorred him, cast him out from their number, leaving him to die alone with the very potential risk that he would fall prey to the same corruption he had spent his entire life battling. In fact, this is what the monks of Whitepeak assumed happened to Oris. For the longest time they thought his spirit had gone astray and joined the ranks of the rakshasa, and prepared to hunt him down should his malevolence dare to appear. And yet he was reborn as a deva, much to their confusion. Oris, extremely confused by this turn of events, decided then to leave Whitepeak behind and make his own living as an adventurer, trying to piece together the mystery of his sudden reincarnation. Themes and Background Bonuses: Brink of Corruption (+2 to Intimidate and Stealth) Equipment: Level 5 Skybound Cloth Level 7 Symbol of Good Fortune Level 8 Reckless Fullblade Adventurer Kit Additional week's worth of rations Warhorse

Damn, this turned out a lot longer than I thought. Hope you were serious about not minding length DemonicHeart. =] First time trying out a Warlock and I had a lot of fun writing out the story. Look forward to playing with any of you guys soon if I get chosen. Name: Mathias Hargrave Gender: Male Level: 7 Race: Human Class: Warlock Alignment: Unaligned Feats: Improved Initiative Die Hard Killing Curse Devil's Favor Improved Dark One's Blessing Weapon Proficiency - Staves (free) Improved Defenses (free) Appearance and Personality: Mathias stands at about 5'10'' with dark brown hair and icy blue eyes, appearing like any other average human around, which is purposeful to belie his true nature. Wearing a bluish-purple hood and cloak almost all the time, his bright eyes show a high intellect as his look quickly darts around the room taking in his surroundings and possible threats. Quite the loner, he is content to sit alone with a stein of mead and read thick tomes that would flummox most. When he does talk, he has a surprisingly low voice and good vocabulary, often confusing more simple folk but he prefers it that way. Mathias is a wielder of dark, ancient arcane magic which many can get the wrong idea of and often do. For these occasions he is quite easily (most of the time) able to bluff his way through most necessary conversations by getting them to believe he is a wizard of some sort. He is reluctant to reveal his true nature and does not revel in cruelty or malice, but if necessary he will unleash his terrifying power. <a href="http://i.imgur.com/UBRueOs.png" rel="nofollow">http://i.imgur.com/UBRueOs.png</a> Backstory: Mathias Hargrave is a human with dark brown hair and icy blue eyes born in the fair city of Fallcrest to Paige Hargrave, a single mother. It is unknown how many brothers and sisters Mathias had growing up as his mother was quite a successful purveyor of her 'wares' around the back streets of the city. Growing up in the largest city in the Nentir Vale to a whore which abandoned him at a young age, he didn't have much to live off of as a child, begging for money in the streets or using his seemingly natural abilities to charm passerby into leaving bits of bread or coin. Living on the streets as a young child and surviving also means that you must be resilient and this lesson came hard to Mathias. As a boy, he was never one of great height or strength so he had to make due with intelligence, teaching himself how to read as a youngster and devouring any tome he could get his hands on no matter the subject. He especially enjoyed the ones that involved magic or wizardry in any capacity and often sat there and wished to himself that he could cast magic spells - then he could leave this miserable place where food was scarce and the nights were cold. There were many other children living in the back alleys of course, but Mathias never seemed to make too many friends as he preferred to be distant. This all changed one day however at the age of fourteen when he was cornered in one of his favorite streets to sleep in, part of the richer quarters of Fallcrest. The offspring of noble families would sometimes tease and heckle the homeless children for entertainment, the more heartless even going so far as to throw things or practice with their wooden training swords on them. This was one of those times, as one of most sadistic named Patrick Lockwood and his friends were taunting Mathias, destroying his things and tearing his books to shreds. Before it went too far though an older girl, Naomi, took pity on him and helped scare away the attackers with a few well placed rocks. After pledging to be back, Patrick and his envoy fled. Not really knowing what to say, Mathias simply looked down at the ground and whispered his thanks, wiping blood from his lip and attempting to clean up the shredded mess they had created. "You have to learn to stand up for yourself." She told him, giving him his first real advice, and picking him up from the ground. He got his first good look at her then, and she was quite beautiful - a half-elf with flaming red hair, green eyes and pale skin. The two grew close, Mathias enjoying her company as he taught her to read and of his favorite tales involving magic and adventuring. Naomi became somewhat of a protector, the sixteen year old showing him the basics of defending himself and of course keeping him company . For a few months the friendship between them flourished as they stuck together almost every day. Mathias had even begun to nourish an affection for her which he never was able to voice, a decision he regrets to this day. One morning as the two were walking along scavenging for scraps of food, Patrick showed up with his friends once again - and also two members of his household guard. Naomi was quick and strong for her age, but she couldn't contend with two fully grown men. As they grabbed her, she screamed and cried out for help, but no one in the street even even paused to look except for Mathias who was frozen to the ground with fear. The highborn boy gave Mathias a cruel smile and said, "I told you that I would be back. We happened to need a few more slaves for our foreign estates, and I knew we could get a nice cheap one here." After taunting him, he beat Mathias until he was bloody. However, no punches or kicks they could throw were nearly as painful as taking his one friend from him. As Mathias laid there that night sobbing and holding Naomi's bright blue cloak which was the one item of hers he still had, he came up with a plan. Using every bit of his cunning the next day even with sore and aching muscles, he prepared and then waited. Patrick showed up with his sycophants as always one morning, walking by and ridiculing many of the poor street children. Knowing that he couldn't resist rubbing it in more, Mathias simply sat and waited. It didn't take too long, as the older boy walked over and spat onto the ground next to him. As the he saw the nice cloak unfurled across the ground, Patrick stamped on it with a muddy boot - and his face quickly twisted in horror as he triggered a foothold trap and the claws closed with a vicelike grip around his ankle. The boy fell flat on his back as he screamed with pain and attempted to pry it off. It was his friends' turn to be frozen to the spot with horror, and Mathias used this time to stand up and hoist a large cobblestone from behind him, and letting his hatred and contempt overtake him, smash the other boy's face over and over. He kept going until the smell of blood filled his nose and Patrick stopped screaming for good. It wasn't difficult to find him when the Lockwood family guard came looking for him - all they had to do was follow the trail of blood and he was quickly thrown in jail. Mathias languished there for almost a month in the dank cell with nothing to eat except for the odd piece of stale bread when he was not being lashed with a whip. The only thing that kept him alive at the time was the satisfaction of vengeance and the blood that still stained his fingernails knowing that Patrick could terrorize no one anymore. On the brink of starvation, weak and alone once again in his small space behind bars, suddenly Mathias saw a fiery visage begin to appear in front of his eyes. Thinking that he was hallucinating from the lack of food and beginning to die, he simply closed his eyes and ignored it to beg for death - until he heard a deep other-worldly voice sound in his small chamber. "You disrespect me, human. Now stand up." The boy's eyes shot open wide with fear, and summoning all of his strength he stood up to face a blood red horned demon standing in front of him, easily over seven feet fall with eyes like the pits of hell itself. The monster gave a smile as it looked down at him, which was somehow worse than than it's regular gaze and began to speak. What if instead of being powerless slaves to those unjustly foisted with power, he could be the master instead? To be able to control dark ancient powers that many feared, let alone understood? The chance to use these abilities against those who would abuse him? Mathias couldn't believe this incredible turn of events and nearly jumped at the chance even though he was almost unconscious from hunger. At the demon's command, he knelt on the floor of the disgusting, rotten cell and made a pact at the demon's discretion, and he was told he had one mission: to seek power in everything that he does. Mathias then rose, feeling completely refreshed, his stomach full with the most delicious food he could imagine, his muscles rejuvenated. But most of all he could see the arcane power in his mind, and when he flexed his hands and focused, he could feel it swell and burn around him. "One last piece of information." The demon grinned horribly at him. "In the future you will be bound to complete one favor for us. The time is unknown, but do not forget." Then it vanished without a trace. On his own again, Mathias waited until deep into the night and then focused his energy onto the door of the cell, summoning a blast of eldritch energy which easily broke through the thick steel bars and freed him. As the hour was late, there were only a few guardsmen to stop him but none had encountered the kind of power that he could now wield. Leaving only charred corpses behind, he walked out of the putrid place that would have been his grave and instead walked to his freedom. Since that night Mathias has spent the last five years still in Fallcrest, using his even greater abilities to taking simple contracts for protection and seek magical items, becoming a follower of Ioun. He is very discreet with who he shares any information, not a soul knowing the full extent of what has happened to him and sometimes struggling to control his need for knowledge and power. The warlock holds onto hope in the form of a small scrap of blue cloak that always stays in the inside pocket of his robes, reminding him of his past. The only thing that he fears are recurring dreams that still haunt him to this day of the demon's face hovering over him, knowing that at any time it could show up again and require payment for the incredible gift that it has bestowed upon him. Theme and Background bonus : Beggar (+2 to Bluff)

@Bryaden - Oris is quite interesting. While short lived races wouldn't recall that previous lifetime, I can see the longer lived ones still having vague memories about it. There's plenty of potential for his past to catch up with him and I like that. I think the choice of god is interesting too since the party has been attracting divine attention lately. The gods are very much real and active in this world. I do make deity checks to see if a certain god or goddess is 1) paying attention to the events transpiring and 2) concerned enough to help or hinder. It will usually be a subtle hand but my hope is it will be more than that once you reach epic level tier. @Artenger - I like it, I like it a lot. This is a strong entry for the game. And fye, I'm curious what made you choose Mathias. It's extra amusing for me because I actually created an NPC named Mathias who was a noteworthy, retired adventurer. If you want to say your mother named you after this hero in the hopes lightning would strike twice, I'd be perfectly alright with that. If not, we can chock it up to coincidence. As for Mathias' life, while Lord Faren Markelhay of Fallcrest is a good, just ruler, even good men can be misled by others. He'd be livid if he ever got the full story but he's not omniscient. I can see this noble family feeding him a tale of a violent urchin desperate to prove himself superior to the rich who labor to better the city. think it adds an extra bit of character to the city. As for that bargain, you can BET it will show up later and I'm looking forward to that.

I am making a profile at the moment, and I never played D an D before so, I hope you like it trying my hardest but I dont know a lot about the places there are. I am making up some villages and communities. Any tips I would love greatly :3 Anyway, back to typing lol.

@DemonicHeart - Thanks, much appreciated. And yeah, that makes perfect sense I think as Mathias' mother most likely heard the name before in common tales and decided that would make a good name for her son and perhaps someday create a positive influence for him. As for the families still after him, yes he is still extremely careful about whom he shares any information with as it might cause him to be outed to the wrong people. He has been severely tempted to exact his own form of retribution against patriarch of the Lockwood family and anyone else in league with him who sent Naomi to who knows where. So far he has resisted it because he knows that would draw a lot of attention to himself, not because his conscience is getting in the way. Enjoying reading everyone's backstories so far they are all good.

if you still need players me and my friend could do it

As I said before, this isn't first come, first served. You have until the 25th to post a character and I'll choose 3 players among all who apply. You and your friend can still post. Between the ones posted here and those who have sent me pms, there is a lot of stiff competition thus far but it is not too late to impress. Even if you don't get in, I'll happily add you on a wait list in case my final picks are no shows.

Name: Bruce Homewood Gender: Male Level:7 Race: Elf Class: Ranger Alignment: Unaligned Feats: Weapon Proficiency (Greatbow) Weapon Focus (Bow) Improved Initiative Sneak of Shadows Improved Defenses (free) Bow Expertise (free) Appearance and Personality: Identifying more as a human than an elf, and not wanting to be associated with their weakness, I cut the tips off my ears in an attempt to round them which ended in them being mangled and deformed. The livid scars from the claw marks across my face left it misshapen and the right corner of my lip is curled in a constant snarl with teeth always exposed. It sometimes leaks drool, and I talk with a lisp seeming to be constantly trying to suck the moisture back in. My blond hair is kept cropped close in the front and sides but flows freely down my back, and my eyes are green and the left one is clouded. I wear simple hide armor over a green tunic, with leather gloves and boots, and a dark green hooded cloak to hide my mangled face. I am quiet, other than the sound of slurping drool, and observant usually letting others talk content to listen and learn only chiming in if I feel my wisdom is needed. My name is Bruce Homewood, a hideously deformed human, and I hate elves. Backstory: I, Aoelar Goldenrod, was born in small village of the Woodsinger Clan in the heart of the Harken Forest. From a young age I was a solitary boy, and didn’t make friends with other local children; often spending my days exploring the woods late into the evening. My father was neglectful and more often than not failed to even acknowledge my existence; so I was rarely missed by him. My mother constantly worried after me and often scolded me when she found out I had been wandering alone again. Even as a child I was conscientious, and the constant frivolity of my people was tiresome. They spent most nights singing, dancing, and drinking wine; while I wandered the woods wishing I had been born to a different race. It was on one such night I was making my way back home when I noticed the smell of smoke in the air and the noise of clashing steel. Creeping up to the edge of the glade that held my village I witnessed a scene of utter carnage. Daggerburg goblins had lain waste to most my people and were gathering their spoils which included the women, my mother among them. Watching horrified I did the only thing I knew to do, and remained hidden; a few hours later took the women away with them and some of the younger children. The way I saw it, my people had brought this on themselves, and their weakness had led to their demise and cost me my mother. Making my way quietly into the remains of the village I scavenged what I could; some food, a knife, and a few blankets which I tied to my back. Knowing there wasn’t anything left for me there I set out into the woods that I knew so well. I survived for a few months trapping small animals and foraging for my food and would have been content with such a life, but fate had other plans in store for me. I was attacked by a large cat when bedding down one evening; it raked my face from top left down across my eye/nose/ jaw and clamped its maw down on my right shoulder, also ripped at my legs with its hind claws. I felt warm blood pour over my face and saw an arrow pierce its throat before falling unconscious. When I awoke my face and much of my body was bandaged, and the pungent smell of strong herbs filled my nostrils. I moaned and tried to claw at the wrappings but was stopped by a low voice. A human named Bruce Homewood had saved me he worked for the local lord a man named Baron Stockmer. His duty was to watch the forest along the King’s Road and protect travelers from bandits, goblins, and other dangers of the road; also to catch poachers and bring them in for trial. After telling him my story Bruce grew silent, and offered to bring me back to Harkenwold the Baron would listen to him and he could surely find me a home. I wanted nothing of it and pleaded with him to let me stay so I could learn the ways of the Ranger. After much deliberation he decided to take me under his wing, and having no family of his own he raised me much as he would a son. Bruce taught me much, not only about nature and combat, but about living a decent life and tried to impart his own moral code to me. He tried to sway my hatred for my own kind saying not all elves were like that and my village was an oddity filled with hedonists but it didn’t change my mind. After many years with him I had begun to think of him as my father and me his son I stayed with Bruce until the years caught up with him and he died. Burying him under a copse in his favorite clearing I said a few words, and went on with my life. Wanting to leave my past as an elf behind I took Bruce’s name, and his bow which was taller than me. I tried to reshape my ears to look more human, but now they just look mangled. I continued fulfilling the day to day duties watching travelers come and go, and it just wasn’t the same without Bruce. I decided to seek my own path in life, went to Baron Stockmer and informed him of Bruce’s death, and went on my way to explore other parts of the world. I made my way around the surrounding areas seeking mercenary work, and learning about the dealings of the world. After a few years I set up in Fallcrest, and taking work as it came lived off the gold earned from odd jobs but something was still missing. I often thought of my mother, and the goblins to the west but I knew I could do nothing alone. Background bonus: Lost everything +2 Nature

Bumping up, just to check in with the app I PMed earlier.

First off, I want to thank everyone who has placed a character application either on this thread or through pms. I currently have 10 characters that I will be looking over and a lot of them are high quality ones at that. It's going to make next week a living hell trying to just choose 3. As I'm mentioned to some people before, just because I don't select you doesn't mean that you have no chance of getting in. I plan to make a wait list just in case my final choices have other obligations and can't make the game.

Is that the official-unofficial "We're all filled up" post? Asking in advance, as it's the deciding factor if I scrap the several pages of work I've got or not :)

More like an update more than anything. You still have 4 days left and I could be surprised during that time but I warn you that the competition isn't light by any stretch of the imagination.

Updated my character's backstory to fit Nentir Vale setting better. I'd appreciate DemonicHeart and others' feedback and suggestions for where else I can expand on his story.

Hey Jedd, I have some feedback for your background. First, and positively, I like the way you write. It's clear. The imagery is creepy. That's not a bad thing, just an observation. I don't understand why he's being tortured. Clearly this is a transformative (emotionally/spiritually) episode in Hiro's life, but I don't know what his life was like before that. What's normal? I need to know what his normal is before I can understand the extent of the abnormal treatment. Where does this take place and how did Hiro get there? How did he get out? I know you wrote that he doesn't know, but he knows something and I'd like to know what he knows at least. I don't understand why you need this captivity and alchemical scene at all. If it's not needed, why are you being mean to your character? I guess that my overarching concern that you're setting Hiro up to be brooding, dour, vengeance-filled (ie *not* what you'd expect for a Fox Hengeyokai). Distrustful and flighty are part of the race make up, but sad and angry are not. Having said all that, if you're explaining the existence of some Mod/Feat/Build thing, great, but I can't see it. In my view, a background should explain how a character got to where he is, how he got the powers/abilities/propensities he has. The background should be the "Why" behind the character build.

Gharrash Level 7 Dragonborn (+2 to History, +2 to Intimidate) Invoker Covenant of Wrath Dragon Breath (Lightning, CON) Background: Shard of Io (+2 to Religion) Theme: Scholar Appearance and Personality: Gharrash is an average sized member of his race with light-colored, metallic, scintillating scales. Blue-white runes mark his jaw and cheek. Not overly well muscled, he wouldn't normally be intimidating, but there is something about his quiet presence that's unsettling. The dragonborn is contemplative and not given to the explosive rage of his fellows, nor does he go off in fits of honor-driven action. He would rather talk things through or let events unfold as they will than get directly involved. Because of this, he is often not well regarded by his own kind. In addition, he steadfastly refuses to choose between the Vengeance Mother, Tiamat and the Stalwart Father, Bahamut, instead, taking the neutral path, respecting both but holding neither sovereign. Some who don't know him well openly call him "coward," but any who have witnessed the devastation he unleashes when he finally does let loose know that the reason he holds his temper in is not cowardice. It's that, in letting it go, people die, many people die. TRAINED SKILLS Arcana +9 Diplomacy +11 History +11 Insight +12 Religion +11 FEATS Free 1: Verstile Expertise (Staff) Free 1: Improved Defenses Level 1: Ritual Caster Level 1: Covenant of Io Level 2: Mark of Scribing Level 4: Enlarged Dragon Breath Level 6: Bolstering Breath ITEMS Money: 87gp Staff of the War Mage +2 Awakening Finemail +2 Amulet of Protection +2 Adventurer's Kit Ritual Book Background: In the Barony of Therund, in the port city of Therund, in the temple of Erathis, the priests gave honest thanks that the storm had finally passed. Even though the downpour had stopped and the winds had died to a light, swirling breeze, deep rumblings of thunder still boomed through the hills as Brother Amos opened the doors to the temple to check the grounds for damage from the fiercest storm anyone had ever heard of... even the Eladrin. Everyone agreed, as the storm was raging, that it was an ill omen. Now in the aftermath, Amos walked the grounds, noting the places where the roof had been damaged, shutters and all the things that would need to be fixed. The main gate was sundered from its massive, iron hinges as if a giant or a god had kicked the thing open. As he marveled at the damage to the oaken timbers, snapped and splintered like so many matchsticks, he saw a large, oddly colored and misshapen stone lying nestled in the rubble. The rock of the wall was deep gray, jagged, and smooth, while this stone was chalky baize, rounded, and incrusted with what looked like runes. Amos ran back into the temple and grabbed Father Gillard, Erathis' high priest, and the smartest, most-learned man Brother Amos knew. "That's not a stone, Amos," Father Gillard said in wonderment. "It's an egg!" The older priest marveled at the sight before him. "It looks old. You found it here?" "Yes, Father. Right here. It must've blown in during the storm," Brother Amos said, looking around for something that might support his thought. "Where could it've come from?" In truth, it could've come from anywhere, blown in from the ocean, rolled out of the surrounding hills, or been there the whole time. "Interesting. Let's see if we can get it inside." Together, the two men dislodged the thing and carried it inside to the temple's study. Calling in the senior members of the temple, they began to study the egg. Its runes baffled one and all. They looked ancient, and similar, but not the same as, other runes. "It looks like a petrified dragon egg," one of the old priests said. "We need to get rubbings of those runes so we can make copies." "But Fathers, what if the runes are a seal of some kind?" Brother Amos asked. "You know, what if the runes say, 'Ultimate evil inside, do not open,' or something? And maybe by touching it, you'll set it off..." "We know what we're doing, Brother Amos," warned a cranky priest. Parchment paper and charcoal were brought in and the clerics set about collecting images of runes, measuring their placement over the surface of the shell. To everyone's shock and surprise, the sounds of scratching began to come from inside the egg. Brother Amos' prophecy ringing loudly in their ears, everyone stepped back cautiously. The runes began to glow and pulse as the scratching grew louder until finally the eggshell cracked along one of the rune-lines and the claw of a finger poked out. The assembled men and women watched, amazed, as a dragonborn emerged fresh into the world. As the thing escaped the egg's confines, the flash-glowing runes faded, leaving the room silent, except for the heavy breathing from everyone and the noises coming from the newborn. Immediately, everyone was sworn to secrecy. Until the runes could be deciphered and their meaning understood, no one outside the temple must know of this creature's existence. The infant was named Gharrash after some Arkhosian warlord one of the scholar/priests remembered and favored from some old research project, and the broken fragments of his eggshell were hidden away, especially from Gharrash, until someone could produce the clue that allowed them to decipher the runes. Divination attempts on both the eggshell and the young dragonborn brought images, disjointed but with purpose, images of smoke and lightning, slashes of blood, and soul-curdling screams of overwhelming terror. None of the seers would try a divination a second time. Gharrash was raised in the temple, away from the public eye and trained for years to become a scholar and a priest of Erathis. It was thought that he was an able student until it was realized that his spell work was not provided by faith or the divinity of Erathis, but through the channeling of something else instead... invoking something else... His mystical abilities mimicked the violence of the storm that brought him. Even his electrically charged dragon breath had the spark of divinity in it. He worked hard to please his clerical family, and they were very patient with him. But there were the dreams. Gharrash was plagued by dreams of dragons and flight and fighting... nightmares gripped him, filled him with excitement and terror, but upon waking, he couldn't articulate what the dreams were about or what happened in them. Fear, anger, raging, screaming, roaring so powerful it shot to the heavens... one night, as another fierce storm swept across the coast and into Therund, he awoke from another such dream, screaming and shooting lightning, but finally the words we're there! Father Amos ran to him as Gharrash was excitedly telling everything from the dream, but Amos was bewildered and a little afraid because he didn't understand the gibberish that Gharrash was saying. Everyone was awakened to come hear the dragonborn, and no one inderstood what he was saying. Finally, Father Kaldrick, an older priest, recognized what it was. "It's the Old Speech!" he wheezed. "He's speaking in the old speech of the gods!" It was only then that the assembled clergy noticed that Gharrash's jaw and cheek were marked with glowing, blue-white runes that flared when he spoke and ebbed as he became quiet. "That's..." Father Gillard said as he got up and ran out. He came back some moments later with a large and very dusty tome that he was thumbing through. The older man sat near Gharrash, alternately staring at the young dragonborn's face and paging through the musty book. Finally, finding what he was searching for in the book, Father Gillard said, "That's a Dragonmark, I'm sure of it, but... they're not even from this world, and they..." The runes of the mark never faded from Gharrash's face, and he displayed the ability to speak the most ancient and powerful languages known in the universe. No one was able to explain the mystery of the coming of the mark much the same way they couldn't explain the arrival of the egg in the first place. No one could understand the explanations Gharrash gave of his dreams so no one was able to help him through his experiences despite how they tried. He studied these things on his own and became quite a good researcher in his own right. The dreams stayed with Gharrash as he grew, and the mystical powers seemed to parallel them somehow. No one understood what was going on, but everyone at the temple was concerned. The people of the Temple of Erathis kept Gharrash's existence hidden for over a decade, but as with most things of this nature, secrets rarely stay secret. Gharrash often awoke screaming from his nightmares, and sometimes he would breathe his lightning breath accidentally at night causing light flashes that residents of Therund could see. Questions began to be raised.While there were but few dragonborn in and around Therund, they eventually discovered Gharrash's existence and demanded to see him. And that's when the real trouble began. "I am Shedinn Letrah of Clan Flamebrow, and I demand to see this creature," the dragonborn bellowed as he and his entourage pushed past the priests on his way to confront Gharrash. "What do you know of your heritage and birthright, puny and malnourished excuse for a dragonborn?" Not understanding the insult and challenge for what it was, Gharrash answered, "I have studied the history of our people... from the times before the founding of Arkhosia, through its fall, and the diaspora that followed." "And what of honor and dedication and service! I am a Paladin of Bahamut," Shedinn boomed intimidatingly, "My blade is my oath, and my life is dedicated to his great cause... On whose side do you pledge your allegiance, dragonborn?" "I don't want to hurt anyone," Gharrash answered. "You are a coward, then?" Shedinn shot back. "You mean you don't want to be hurt. You don't want to struggle with your brothers and sisters! You mean that you'd not shed your own blood in the fight for the return of Arkhosia!" "I..." Gharrash said as the priests of Erathis interceded. Father Amos knew that it was only a matter of time before the dragonborn paladin and his mob would come back for Gharrash. It was in the dragonborn nature to struggle and make their race as tough as possible. A paladin of the dragon-god would see Gharrash as an affront to racial honor, raised by humans as he was. The priests of Erathis needed to get their secret charge out of harm's way. They set about doing so with haste, but not without preparation. They knew that Shedinn would build his confidence before striking, so they had a little time. "You will be traveling, so scribe these traveling rituals into your book, Gharrash," Father Amos said, "You can master them on your travels." Gharrash set about, dutifully inscribing his ritual book with the spells as the cleric instructed. "Here, take these," Father Gillard said from inside the temple's locked rooms. It was Armor, a necklace, and an ancient quarterstaff. "They are magical. The armor protects you and keeps you alert to dangers. The amulet is also protection. The staff... ah, the staff is a weapon through which you can channel your gifts to greater effect. Here... touch it... feel it." Gharrash took the armor, put on the necklace, and gripped the staff. He could indeed feel his magic amplified, coursing through the magical implement. "Put the armor on, fool," Father Gillard ordered. "You'll need to get used to its weight!" "And remember the wisdom we've taught you." The priests of Erathis hoped that getting Gharrash out of town in the early morning would be their best option. They were wrong. Shedinn had been watching for just such a cowardly act and was ready for them. He and his retinue ambushed Gharrash and Father Amos soon after they left the temple grounds. Another war of words ensued, this one escalating unstoppably toward violence. "I believe we're stronger together, Paladin of Bahamut," Gharrash said to Shedinn, "but our leadership must know that the honor of fighting isn't the only way. Building a civilization takes much more than honor in combat. The honor of fighting got Io killed by Eruk-Hus. Knowing when to fight is often more important than knowing how to fight." "Words of a weak cowardly coward," Shedinn spat. "Charging headlong into combat when you know you can't win and in which you would almost certainly be killed just in the hopes that your people would live one more day... that would satisfy your honor?" Gharrash asked. "For the hope of the people to live another day, honorable sacrifices are easy to make," the paladin answered with self-righteous pride. "It's no wonder then, led by fools who believe such as you, that Arkhosia fell and the proud races of Io's sacred blood would be scattered to the winds." "Coward!" Shedinn screamed as he launched into his assault, his men in close formation, hoping to overwhelm Gharrash and Father Amos. But Gharrash struck first a moment sooner, surprising all but the paladin. He opened his mouth and with a furious scream spat out an horrific blast of electricity that hit every one of Shedinn's twenty warriors. He followed that by pounding his staff on the ground and calling lightning from himself through the staff and again striking all of Shedinn's people. The bolts bounced off one to another as cries of dragonborn fury rang out from deep within the storm. The paladin, already half-dead and realizing for the first time the might of the foe he faced, swung his own magical blade, but the blow glanced off his opponent's magicked chain links. And then Gharrash did something on pure instinct. He channeled the fear of his worst nightmare at the dragonborn warriors who were still reeling from his first attacks. His terror poured through him and tore into them, sending them flying back over twenty feet! All but Shedinn were laid out, and even he was buckled to a knee. Thirteen of them were dead. Still in the grip of his power and before Shedinn could act, a majestic Gharrash strode up to and locked eyes with Bahamut's Paladin and spoke with a voice that sounded like a rumbling storm of energy, "Ask your god what you should do, and I beg you... Heed his wisdom." Shedinn looked away and relaxed the grip on his sword. "You are wiser than I gave you credit for, Shedinn Latrah of Clan Flamebrow, Paladin of the Platinum Dragon. And you are good. Remember that. I am Gharrash, I have no family hold me dear, nor clan to give me identity; I have no identity but what I've read in books. You have far more than I. Cherish it." "What have you done?" Father Amos nearly screamed, wide eyed and awestruck at the destruction his charge had just inflicted. "The, the, you, the... You have to go before the town guard comes!" The older human who'd found Gharrash in his egg, who'd raised him from infancy, who was more like a father figure than anything else hugged the dragonborn tightly then let him go, pushing him away. "Go, run, and don't look back!" As Gharrash ran off and out of sight, Amos shrank a bit as the adrenalin left him and looked around at the carnage saying, "What have I done..." And then he set about helping Shedinn and his people, because that's what his heart told him to do. Gharrash had been traveling for a few months. He missed the comfort of the stacks and stacks of library books in Erathis' temple, but he has grown used to the idea that he is on his own. He'd used up all the ritual components and most of the coinage he'd brought with him from Therund. He'd been traveling mostly east and north since leaving home, traveling away from the coast. He'd just topped a small hill on the King's Road coming from Winterhaven and was about to enter the city of Fallcrest, pursuing a life of he knew not what.

this seems pretty cool is it already closed?

Applications were closed on the 11/25th, I believe the DM said?

Thanks Keith! That part of the story is meant to the be the primary pivotal event in Hiro's life. As I flesh out his story further, I think I'll write the events chronologically with flashbacks to his former life/self. As to the moment he doesn't remember, I intend to reveal that and Sehanine's involvement a little bit later. Hengeyokai are both fey and natural creatures, and the transformation Hiro experienced replaced a part of his fey nature with a shadow nature. Build-wise, he uses shadow(ish) magic (via shadow walk, gloaming cut, and his shadow master ki focus), and I thought this was a great way to tie his story into his unique abilities. I promise I'm not a sadistic writer. :P

That makes sense, Jedd. I would suggest that you don't need to hide his motives and pain from us (the players/readers) because the more you show us as you're crafting a character about his formation, the more we'll be able to read his motivations into the actions you have him do in the game. (Here I am talking as if you're in the game and that I'll be able to watch, but I'm a writer, so I'm always optimistic) The more you show from behind the scenes before everything starts, the less confusion there'll be when you're in the middle of the action. And it seems that you may not be clear on all of the character's background... I would urge you to get clear. There's a very simple technique for doing that. You take a look at the awesome build that the rules lay out for your character, and you build a small story as to how each of those powers/abilities/attributes came into being. The stuff you got at Level 6 came after the stuff you got at Level 3... If you merely ask the question "How did he get this?" and tell a little story about how it came to be. Then, assemble the little stories into a chronological order, and finally, link all the little stories together with interstitials so that things flow smoothly. That's how I do it at least. Part of the problem I see with your back story is that you have this one event that explains 5 levels worth of stuff... that means that Hiro stayed with this evil, torturous dude for long enough to accrue enough experience to go up that many levels. How do you explain that? Does that issue make sense? If I were correcting your story with a free hand, I'd make the bad guy in your story much more of a seducer, promising the naive Hiro more power, or more... something. So Hiro stays, and it's not until Sehanine reaches out and shows him what he's becoming that he understands that the Shadow essence is replacing his Fey essence... Then he gets to battle himself as he grows... doe she grow more Shadow with the power it holds, or does he grow more Fey, healing the wounds of the of the cursed magic? I think you have to explain why you stay with the bad guy for so long... I don't think you can justify an instant 1st level to 7th level bump...

Great advice Keith! I've never thought of using his level progressions as a tie-in for his story! I don't like the idea of Hiro being an acomplis to the necromancer - it's counter to the core Hengeyokai nature, but I do see the event with the mad necromancer as something that permanently changed him, and gave him options (good and bad) that he wouldn't otherwise have had. Kind of akin to the moment the Elric brothers tried to resurrect their mother in Full Metal Alchemist. It gave him new powers, sure, but at a great physical, mental, and even spiritual cost. Utilizing your advice, I'm going to treat his time with the Necromancer as his "level 1" moment, and spend some time fleshing out more of his story using his abilities as a literary framework. EDIT: Utilizing Keith's advice, I've worked on the next leg of the story.

Hey Jedd, Hiro wouldn't be an accomplice; he'd be a dupe... but I agree with your choice of solution as it ties in with the "What nature will he choose as he grows" thing. When he gets Shadow powers, that represents one kind of choice (that maybe Hiro's not so proud of... even if it was "necessary"). I think you'll find that you'll build more complex and believable character like this. They'll certainly be easier to Role Play. I really enjoy the depth of Hiro's back story as it's now unfolding. The creativity is exciting, and your writing is really good. I especially like how well you have the goddess not explain, and that the people who worship her are ok with the mystery...

I have sent PMs to everyone that has sent me a character concept privately or publicly. Once again, thank you all for showing interest. For those that were picked, I hope to see you on Skype soon. For those who were not, I hope you find a good campaign to join that is worthy of your skills. If you want to get on the wait list I'm setting up, please feel free to let me know. This game is now officially closed to all further interest. I'd appreciate it if a moderator could lock it.