*grappler12 opens up "Dark Lion Inn"
You want us to create a back story of some sort... Interesting. Ill have to make one up concidering my major lack of RPing that wasn't on Ps2 or Xbox. Ill make something up though, just not now.
*grappler12 opens up "Dark Lion Inn"
You want us to create a back story of some sort... Interesting. Ill have to make one up concidering my major lack of RPing that wasn't on Ps2 or Xbox. Ill make something up though, just not now.
Well, feel free- but, why not use one of your collo characters?
@Sliver Underlord: Hermetic magic has always piqued my interest. But seriously... hippie magic? WTF? What do they do, create elaborate hemp weavings and spellbind the minds of their enemies with the sheer force of their lack of hygiene?
Alright folks.... Here's the first submission Enjoy Razia Rainwater
Razia Rainwater is, while only 25 years old, is no stranger to the trials one must endure at confronting death and lost loves. Razia tends to be very friendly to those she knows, and kindhearted to all those she does know or doesn't, unless they are obviously in the wrong, which if they are, she will do everything in her power to ensure that the rightful party overcomes. She was born in America, but moved to Ireland with her family when she was 10. Her family included her father, Robert Rainwater, age 60, her mother Martha Rainwater, and her older brother, 5 years older than her, Jonathan Rainwater. However, sadly, her mother died of Multiple Sclerosis, after a long 4 year battle, when Razia was 22. Also, less than a year before her mother was diagnosed, her brother was careless and died in a car accident when Razia was nearly 18. After the tragedy of her brother's death, her father and her had to forge a strong bond in order to care for Martha, as her muscle capacity and sight deteriorated, requiring tremendous amounts of supervision and care. Razia was a teacher's aide in Ireland for a period, intending to pursue her masters in education, but when her mother fell ill, all that changed, as she devoted her time to her family and decided instead to deviate her focus into the literary, as a librarian, giving her the freedom to care for her mother, with her failing health and to be her father's moral support as he grows in age as well, watching his beloved wife slowly wither away. After Martha's death, Robert and Razia become even closer, supporting one another in their everyday lives, as Robert is now retired, and a year before the incident that would cause Razia's death, her father was diagnosed with Hodgkins Lymphoma, which merely gave Razia all the more reason to cherish her father and care for him, always being sure to come to his house in the mornings to turn on his coffee and help him with appointments. She owns a car, but rarely uses it, except to take her father out, for appointments or just the occasional pub, as he prefers not to drive himself. She opts instead to bicycle to work daily, with a stop at a local Irish cafe which serves her favorite breakfast, ham, and eggs, prepared over-medium with a bit of horseradish and a cup of coffee, with just a dash of cream and sugar.
After her brother and mother died, she grew to truly cherish life, yet still uncertain of those around her, fearful that they may suddenly leave her like her family had. She had boyfriends in her teens, but once her mother was diagnosed, she had no time for such things. However, she still yearned for it, she just simply vented her affections and caring soul on her ailing father and those she worked with, while still hoping someday to meet someone who would never abandon her, willingly or unwillingly, as her family had, but remains accepting and resolute in the permanence of her seeming destiny alone.
Vampire did impress me as being particularly emo, and more about intrigues and social situations- and while I don't mind that, I do like some action in my gaming. I like a healthy mix of politics and face-punching. Plus, all of the clans seemed so... well, detestable. All of them seemed like such a crappy group of people to want to spend your afterlife with.
Vampire is one of those games that is very dependant on the skills of your gm and playgroup.
We have had two fantastic vampire games.
One of them was set simultaniously in the Dark Ages and the Present day.
The Gm would start the session out in the present, where we have very powerfull characters. At some point, he would go back to the dark ages, where our characters were either still human or ghouls and in the dark ages game, he would introduce some plot element. Like a flashback that you play through.
In this particular game, it had very little politics and more just mystery solving, role playing, and combat. When I say very little politics, I mean it. I believe that the only political thing going on in the game was my character, one of the two last capadocians, seeking vindication on the clan who destroied his family while he was sleeping. That ammounted to combat, necromancy and outright domination. heh.
The other vampire game, and the one we currently play occasionally, is all set in the modern world. And while it does deal somewhat with politics, our gm has flavored it with maturity and it comes across without a hint of "emoisim" The overall plot line is a war triangle between the Camarilla (the "good guys"), the Sabat, and the Werewolfs. We're basically trying to smooth things over with the werewolfs now, and it's containing a lot of combat. Moreso than politics. (for werewolfs, war is politics)
As far as the clans themselves go. I hate most of them. I only truly love the Tremere, who I can see being played as mystics of a sort. Though, I believe the key to enjoying any of the clans fully involves a little bit of creative interpitation
My Tremere is very much a "good guy", who is on this personal quest, that he shares with his wife, to reconnect the links that enable humans to be mages. Links that they lost when they became undead. Basically, it's one of those Quixotic quests that will never be realised, but roleplaything through it is fantastic fun.
Vampire is one of those games that is very dependant on the skills of your gm and playgroup.
We have had two fantastic vampire games.
One of them was set simultaniously in the Dark Ages and the Present day.
The Gm would start the session out in the present, where we have very powerfull characters. At some point, he would go back to the dark ages, where our characters were either still human or ghouls and in the dark ages game, he would introduce some plot element. Like a flashback that you play through.
In this particular game, it had very little politics and more just mystery solving, role playing, and combat. When I say very little politics, I mean it. I believe that the only political thing going on in the game was my character, one of the two last capadocians, seeking vindication on the clan who destroied his family while he was sleeping. That ammounted to combat, necromancy and outright domination. heh.
The other vampire game, and the one we currently play occasionally, is all set in the modern world. And while it does deal somewhat with politics, our gm has flavored it with maturity and it comes across without a hint of "emoisim" The overall plot line is a war triangle between the Camarilla (the "good guys"), the Sabat, and the Werewolfs. We're basically trying to smooth things over with the werewolfs now, and it's containing a lot of combat. Moreso than politics.
As far as the clans themselves to. I hate most of them. I only truly love the Tremere, who I can see being played as mystics of a sort. Though, I believe the key to enjoying any of the clans fully involves a little bit of creative interpitation
My Tremere is very much a "good guy", who is on this personal quest, that he shares with his wife, to reconnect the links that enable humans to be mages. Links that they lost when they became undead. Basically, it's one of those Quixotic quests that will never be realised, but roleplaything through it is fantastic fun.
I really like the set up of that first game, actually. That's really quite innovative!
I took an online quiz once, and it said I would fit best in some clan called the Brujah, or Brujo. Don't know much about them. There was this clan I liked, which was like this council of leader vampires or something.
So.. We started our Pirate Campaign today. A bit slow start but still lots of fun. Right now we are trying to get a loan from Grimtooth a local dwarven loanshark on 10000gp. To earn his trust we first have to do a mission for him tough wich is looking to be quite the challenge. We are to aquire a small purple box from the house of a noble wizard in town. Now there is a lot of problems with this... First off we are rotten poor meaning we have little supplies and we cant wander freely in the nobles district. Also the house is hard to get to because of its location and the wizard is prolly quite powerfull as it uses a clay golem as a constant bodyguard.
So far we think we managed to get a foot inside. The leader of our group is trying to flirt his way into good graces with the leader for the local labourers guild as we hope to get him a job inside the house of the wizard this way. We have also managed to get some contacts in there by staging a mugging attempt on one of the servants there after we observed him on drugs out from a taver that one of us are working at a bouncer. So the fake mugging attempt gave us an opportunity to save the bastard to get on his good side. We managed this.. altough the dude barley remembered his own name and also was having problems remembering ours as he was quite drugged down.
But yeah it was a highlight watching our poor captain trying to flirt with the dm. Everyone was laughing so hard.
But yeah, next week we will hopefully be able to finally get inside the damn mansion so that we can get a look around and locate the damn box. Locating the box will alow me, our hadosee swashbuckler and our rouge to sneak into the mansion at night and steal the box. Hopefully without waking up the wizard or any guards there.
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Quote from Einstein »
Heroism on command, senseless violence, and all the loathsome nonsense that goes by the name of patriotism -how passionately I hate them!
Quote from Nietzsche »
The surest way to corrupt a youth is to instruct him to hold in higher esteem those who think alike than those who think differently.
[thread=41221][my extendo sig][/thread] [thread=56664][moderator helpdesk][/thread] [Pen and Paper Inn]
Just add me on msn if you have any questions or just want to talk
But yeah it was a highlight watching our poor captain trying to flirt with the dm. Everyone was laughing so hard.
I love when those awkward situations arise!
In our Star Trek game, I'm playing captain Cid Ramsey, and we are currently on an exploration mission in Klingon space. (In the game, my character is a diplomatic captain and managed to arrange an alliance with the Klingon Empire). And while on this Klingon planet, I decided to try to seduce this Klingon woman and it was halarous. I thought up this great inuendo and said it to the Klingon woman. Our Gm is really cool and quick on his feet though and he didn't miss a step and quickly fired back his own inuendo!....
The enginer of the party is a telepathic race and he just happened to be reading the klingon womans mind at the time. The player decided it was time for him to make a willpower roll for his character, which he failed, and he imediantly lost his lunch in the middle of this Klingon banquet (which the Klingons though was halarious and made sense anyways) It was classic
Oh, and I have my character for the background story competition. It's a female samurai for the Legend of the five rings game. I'm going to have to post some background information on the universe and the clan she belongs to though, or else her background story wont make any sense. I'll keep it brief though.
I can't decide what character I'd post the backstory to, since I mostly designed characters from the top down. I might go with my old D&D character Cheld, an assassin with a magic throwing knife that returns when thrown. My other options are either my Barabel shockboxer Ovar from Star Wars D6 or Naota Sakuraba, a demon from a WoD campaign.
*tries to mull over which has the best story... then realizes he needs to actually remember the stories first...*
In the center of the Moonsea in Faerun (The Forgotten Realms), there existed a small isle, away from the rest. This island was home to elves, a long-forgotten outlet of the ancient Elven Court of Cormanthor, now called the Dalelands, before it was taken over by humans. That war ended at the Standing Stone, but that is another tale.
The isle was home of the city of Krallis, a port city completely inhabited by elves. Wood elves of the old age of Cormanthor's height. Though the world shifted and changed around them, these elves were very conservative, and kept to themselves. Their primary source of income and supplies was through trade, making and selling feywine with passing merchants. Though the merchants were free to take port, they were not even permitted to stay on the island more than they had to. Strict laws kept all other races out of the isle; they claimed that their soil was the last true bastion of the old world, and they wanted to preserve it. This had become so deeply ingrained into the elves' ethics that all outsiders were shunned and discriminated against, even hated and attacked. Drow were killed on sight.
One day, 24 years ago, there lived a hard-working bar wench named Aria. She was greatly appreciated, and even respected in the community. She was not your typical working girl; she'd been working that bar for fourty years. Every day she thanked her stars for elven immortality, so she would keep her job. She was sweeping up when merchants arrived on the port. Always one for news from the outside world, she met a human whose name is lost to the sands of time. She fell in love with his man, and in an act of reckless lust, or love, it is not known for certain, Aria was laden with child.
What could she do? Humans were forbidden from being on the isle. Half-breeds were considered 'filthy' and 'mutated'. She had to keep it a secret. She tried to while she carried the child for a year. Elven pregnancies last longer; 2 years for elf-elf, 1 year for half. This would be her downfall, as she developed faster, and people began to question her. A mage was called to check her womb, and upon discovering the secret, her world was shattered.
Aria was taken before the king for high treason: Taking unto herself a foreign species. She was forced to bear the child, separated from the world. She was shunned by the community that had once adored her. The mage even divined the location of the father, and when he returned on another mercantile run with his crew, he was arrested and executed by beheading.
Aria lived alone, being tended to by a midwife that hated her for her blasphemy. She bore the child in great pain, without much help. She only saw him for a fleeting moment, naming him 'Alacar,' before her child was snatched away. Aria was banished from the isle, never to return or see her child.
Alacar was raised as an elf, lied to for much of his youth. He was teased for being taller and stronger and different from the other elf youths; he was told by his foster parents, the Leoricars, that he was special. He always got into fights and scuffles, so he took up a sword in his adolesence and learned to fight.
But about 4 years ago, a dark cloud fell over Krallis. Dark ships with black sails swept toward the isle, and orc pirates invaded. They overwhelmed the isle and destroyed it all. Alacar thought he was going to die--he hid in the basement under the wreckage of his destroyed home, trying to nurse his wounded parents. There they told him the truth; Aria. The human. The pregnancy. His illegitimate birth. His world was shattered, just as it crumbled to dust.
Maybe it was fate. Maybe this kingdom fell because of its arrogance. Its closed-minded view on the world. He had lived among them. Was he any better or worse? No. He was a person. If Krallis had opened it doors, it might have gotten help, or more people to defend the kingdom. Alacar kept telling himself that as he tried to come to grips with his origins.
Alacar emerged, seeing the island obliterated. Everyone he knew was dead. He had nothing left, so he had to move on. He had to find his mother...
But that's a story for another time...
The reason I don't go into detail on Alacar's father is, well he doesn't know the whole story. Why should I ruin it for him and you?
I'll have a character sheet record for Alacar Leoricar in a moment.
Hello all. I thought it was time for me to drop on by, and hopefully be befriended here. ATM, I'm playing AD&D with a Level 9 Centaur Ranger, and a game that recently got off the ground as a Human Monk. I was brought up with (specualting here) D&D version 2.0, and have been hooked from then.
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Eternal Masters 2015 Legacy Champion. Has an unnatural love towards perfectly reasonable respect for Lightning Bolt.
Here is the prologue story I wrote for the character Rose Giltrane, for a D&D 3.5 campaign, taking place in a CS of Mamelon's creation- to compare the CS to something pre-existing, imagine Ravenloft, only with a much heavier psionic presence.
Rose is one of the Larento gypsies, a band of nomadic people who were gifted with a special psionic talent. They follow no god, only owing allegiance to a mythical man they call the Gypsy King. This King has not been born yet, but it is said that when he is finally born, the Larento will finally be able to stop wandering and have a kingdom of their own. Until they, they must always wander, and no Larento can ever be born or die anywhere except under the light of the moon- in order to fulfill the prophecy of the King's birth.
Several years prior to the story, the Larento were assaulted by a particularly zealous bishop of a church of one of the old gods. Almost all of the Larento were killed. Rose, her grandmother, and her brother Angelo escaped, only to be ambushed by a squadron of the church's warrior clerics and slaughtered.
Rose, however, survived thanks to the kindness of one of the church's nuns, and then became an assassin. Since then, she bears an incredible grudge towards all divine casters and religious folk, and believes it is her destiny to eliminate the irresponsible use of divine power from the world.
Now, onto the actual prologue-
8 Days Before the Fateful Encounter...
"Welcome to Gold's Curio!" the shopkeeper greeted cheerfully. He was a young man, in his mid thirties. He was handsome, but had a bookish appearance that offset his youthful looks. His robes were made of fine silk, and embroidered with intricate designs. Rose met his greeting with a small nod, and began to peruse his selection of goods.
Old books... lifeless wands... oddly colored tinctures and fluids being passed off as potions... Rose grunted to herself. She should have suspected it would have been garbage. Nevertheless, she continued to browse the merchandise at a leisurely pace, making her circuit around the store.
The skopkeeper gave Rose a curious look.
"Um... ma'am? Was there something you needed?" Rose didn't answer. "Ma'am?"
"Ah, no. I'm just looking around." the black-haired woman said sheepishly, brushing her bangs away from her face, and palming a finely painted urn. She placed the urn back on a shelf, and then began to continue her shopping. A woman, wearing a tight black dress and an elaborate hairstyle sacheted into the store from a door behind the counter. She caressed the neck of the shopkeeper, making him blush, before stepping past him, and grabbing a large ledger from beneath the counter. She glanced into the notebook, and gave a disatisfied cluck
"That's pathetic." the woman stated, her voice betraying some irritation. "Have you sold anything today?" The shopkeep merely shook his head.
"No, no I haven't. It's not a big deal. It's like that sometimes, dear. Don't be so apprehensive." he responded calmly. He placed his hands on the woman's hips, and kissed her softly on her neck. Instead of returning his affection, she merely pulled away and rolled her eyes.
"What about her?" she asked, motioning towards Rose. "Is she shopping, or just waiting for you to get distracted so she can steal something?" Rose looked up, and glanced at the woman. Rose held her tongue, but acknowledged the other woman with a nod. The shopkeeper's wife, however, was not so civil. She gave Rose a suspicious glance before turning her back and stepping towards the door behind the counter.
"She looks like she has some gypsy in her. If she hasn't bought anything yet, then she'll probably just rob us blind. Get rid of her, dear." she announced coldly before retreating through the back door.
Her husband hung his head for a moment, but looked up and gave Rose an apologetic smile.
"You'll have to excuse her... every since we got married 6 months ago, she's been on edge. She's not used to having to live from day to day like this. I'm sorry if she offended you, she's just worried about our finances."
Rose returned the young man's smile. She nodded her head. "That's okay. That sort of thing doesn't bother me anymore." With that, the raven haired woman left the shop.
The sun made Rose's eyes hurt as she left the dimly lit curio shop. The streets of Lac-à-montagne were bustling with mid-day activity. Farmers had gathered in a makeshift marketplace in the town square, peddling their crops and wares, while the area shopkeepers opened their doors and windows to allow the cool spring air to circulate through their establishments and clear out the dust tracked in on the boots of countless customers.
Rose shielded her eyes with her right hand, and looked around the marketplace. Amidst the gentle din of mercantilism, she spotted something that caught her attention. Across the street, in a narrow alley between a small cafe and an inn stood a man in a black cloak. His face was hidden, but Rose could feel his eyes upon her.
Casually, she walked across the street. Taking care not to be seen, she ducked into the alley and placed her back to the wall in order to cloak herself in the shadows. The cloaked man didn't move, nor did he even seem surprised by Rose's appearance. It was almost as if they had been waiting for each other.
"So?" the man asked. His voice was a rough baritone, masculine and gruff.
"4500 silver." she responded. "That's my price."
"Forget it, you gypsy *****," the cloaked man growled. "That's robbery."
Rose shrugged, seemingly unphased. "That's business. Of course, I suppose you could always find someone else to do this for you." The gypsy woman turned away, and prepared to leave. Suddenly, the cloaked man reached out and grabbed ahold of her shoulder, stopping her.
"No, wait!" he exclaimed, his voice a little softer. "It's.. it's alright. 4500 it is. It's a lot... but... it's worth it." Rose looked over her shoulder at the man. He seemed to be remembering something upsetting, and his hand was trembling a little as he held onto her. Although she had only met him that morning, she could tell what was troubling him.
"This won't bring him back, you know."
"Yeah..." he stated, his voice quiet and a little sad. "I know."
"Well, then," the gypsy woman continued. "4500 silver. But I'm going to need some supplies for this particular job."
"Supplies? Don't tell me you don't have your own lockpicks."
Rose shook her head. "Not those kind of supplies. We're dealing with more than just some snake oil salesman... there's definitely something unnatural in that store. Even for the short time I was in there, I could feel it. The entire place reeks of witchcraft." The cloaked man sighed.
"Fine. Just tell me what you need. I'll have it sent to your room." Rose's eyes narrowed, and her lip curled in a scowl.
"Idiot. Do you want to get arrested?" she growled. "This needs to be clean. Just hand over the silver. I know some people who can get me what I need." Rose extended her arm, and opened her hand in request. The man reached to his belt, and removed a pouch from the loop. He dropped it in Rose's hand. It jingled, but not with the weight of 4500 silver by far.
As if to anticipate the woman's next question, the cloaked man spoke. "That's enough for the supplies. You'll get the rest when complete the job." Rose nodded.
"Agreed." And with that, the two individuals left the alley in separate directions.
----------
Rose had come to the town of Lac-à-montagne a few days ago at the request of a bourgeois merchant. His young son had recently died from a terminal illness. The man was grief-stricken, but was horrified to find from the town physician that the "magical remedy" that the family had been treating the boy with was not only ineffective, but may have actually worsened the condition. The family had purchased this remedy for an exorbitant price from the owner of a local curio shop, who claimed the mystic remedy was made from alacorn and was guaranteed to save their son.
Rose's client was furious. Not only had he swindled them, but he had played upon their hopes and desparation, and poisoned their son, who was already suffering so greatly. Now, he sought revenge. Rose was commissioned to assassinate the shopkeeper. Some time had passed since the meeting in the alley. She was now in her room in the town inn, and she was preparing herself for action. She strapped a half-dozen daggers to her leg, and then carefully adjusted her toolbelt. Checking each pocket thoroughly to ensure everything was in it's place, she grabbed her cloak from the coatrack by the door, and pulled it on. She drew the hood, covering her face and eyes, masking her features from any would-be witnesses.
Then, she knelt down next to the bed, and pulled a duffel bag out from under the bed.
"Camellia, it's time to get ready for work," she said quietly. She opened the bag, and withdrew a single matchlock rifle. It was smooth and well polished, with metal the color of rust. The handle of the rifle was made out of darkwood, and a single camellia blossom had been carved into the handle. Rose took exceptional care of her weapon, and treated it almost as if it were a companion.
After sliding the rifle into a sling across her back, she removed a pouch of bullets from her bag, and tucked it into her belt. "Camellia, I got you a present." the gypsy woman stated to no one in particular. She reached into her pocket, and removed a single bullet. It was glistening slightly. The cap of the bullet was made of fine silver, but the rest of it appeared to be made of some sort of crystal substance. Slightly luminscent liquid filled crystal core. "You should thank me. I had to deal with some turncoat priest to get my hands on some genuine chrism, so I hope you appreciate it, old girl." Rose tucked the bullet safely back in her pocket, and then stepped over to the mirror.
The vanity table was effectively bare. Rose carried very little in terms of personal effects, particularly the more frivolous ones the common women adored. However, upon the table sat a single object- a beautiful disc-shaped piece of mithral silver, carved with a variety of protective symbols. In it's center sat a solitary socket, once the home to a rather large moonstone that had long ago been misplaced. Rose carefully picked up the disc, and fastened it to the breast of her jacket. She looked in the mirror for a moment, and then sighed, as if releasing her anxiety.
"All right girls. Let's get moving."
--------
Upon the roof of the inn, Rose could see the entire city with ease. Lac-à-montagne was a beautiful sight at night, with the moon reflecting upon the lake, quietly casting it's glistening light upon the beach. The sight of the moon comforted Rose, and reminded her of happier days. She crawled carefully across the shingled roof, and leapt down a bit to the roof of the cafe. Taking care not to make any noise, Rose scaled carefully down the upper window ledge of the cafe, and balanced herself upon an awning over the entrance.
The town was dark for the most part, and Gold's Curio was no different. The shopkeeper had long ago retired for the evening- Rose assumed to a cold bed with his wife. She let herself fall from the awning, and snuck in the shadows across the street to the entrance of Gold's. Taking care to watch for any witnesses, she removed her lockpicks from her belt, and began to manipulate the locks. Rose held her breath while she worked.
This particular lock was of exceptionally good quality, but she expected as much from any shop selling magical goods- even fake ones. However, even a superior lock couldn't serve as a real challenge for the gypsy's nimble fingers, and soon it released with a soft click. Rose opened the door with care, and snuck inside, her back instinctively placed to the wall. She drew a dagger in each hand, and carefully made her way towards the door behind the counter.
Suddenly, she heard a creak. The black haired woman froze in her spot, her heart thumping. Was someone awake? Rose dared not move, in case it was just the sound of the building settling for the night. However, this was not the case. Rose cursed silently as the telltale glow of lantern light spilled from beneath the frame of the back door. She could shadows cast by feet as someone approached the door. The gypsy's eyes darted around the room, looking for some place to hide. She noticed that the ceilings were very high vaulted, supported by broad wooden beams. It was not so high up that she couldn't make it into the rafters... but could she do it before the door opened and her entire mission was ruined?
The door opened with a creak. The shopkeeper's wife stood in the threshhold. Although it was dark, one could clearly see a look of anger upon her face. She was wearing an expensive nightgown, and her hair was let down. She held the lantern high, so that it's light could be cast across the entire room.
She breathed easier to find that the shop was empty. Her husband appeared from behind her.
"Dear, is anyone down here?" he asked nervously.
"Of course not, you useless idiot." she snapped. "It must have been your imagination."
The shopkeeper walked out from behind his wife, and looked around. "Huh. I could have sworn... Well, I'm going to check the money box quickly, just to be sure. Stay down here with me?" he asked, meekly. His wife groaned.
"You fool."
Rose wanted so desparately to breath a sigh of relief, but didn't want to betray her position. She watched the couple talking from the rafters, safely out of the range of the lantern's light. Rose quietly drew Camellia from her back, and armed it. She perched carefully on the beam, and took aim at the shopkeeper, who was talking with his wife and counting his money.
Rose carefully aligned Camellia's barrel with her target... a single shot would be all it would take. She preferred it that way. It was much less painful, and quicker for everyone involved. For what felt like an eternity, she stared down the barrel of her rifle, not even daring to breathe. She became perfectly still... her heart rate slowed, her breath ceased. Rose's mind slipped away from all other concerns... slowly, slowly she entered her gunman's trance, her body as still as death itself. In her mind, there was no Rose... there was only Camellia, and her target. Everything else was meaningless darkness.
Then, in a single moment, that quietitude was destroyed as her finger coiled and the trigger was pulled. The bullet flew true and swiftly.
"Oh, you were right, honey. Everything is he-"
The shopkeeper was stopped midsentence as the bullet struck the back of his head. Blood splattered forth, painting the counter and his wife's nightgown with crimson flecks. Slowly, he dropped to the ground, his life snuffed out. Rose took no pleasure in this sight, but also refused to feel remorse. After all, this was her life now. This is what she chose to do.
Any second now, she expected the wife to scream, to react in a way that Rose no longer had the privelege of doing. As the seconds ticked by, and the reality of the moment became clearer and clearer, she simply stood where she was, not moving, not speaking. Rose was puzzled. Was she in shock, perhaps?
However, what happened next gave Rose a shiver down her spine. The shopkeeper's wife moved. But, instead of tending to her fallen husband, she merely chuckled. She looked up at the rafters, her eyes piercing the darkness. Rose shuddered as the woman's gaze fell upon her. What in the world was going on?
"That was a good shot." the shopkeeper's wife stated, her voice dripping with cruelty. "But I want a turn now!" she shouted. Violet light surrounded her body, and gathered into twin spheres around her hands. With a sharp cry, the woman let loose two blasts of crackling energy, directly into the rafters where Rose was hiding!
Rose sprung out of the way, and tumbled to the floor of the shop, just as the energy bolts smashed into the rafters. She could smell the smoke curling around the impact area as she fell. As she picked herself up, she drew her daggers. During the fall, Rose's cloak had come undone, and her face was clearly visible.
"Well, if it isn't the little gypsy. I knew I had a bad feeling about you." she sneered. Rose didn't bother engaging in conversation. She rushed at the woman, both daggers armed. Despite being in her night attire, the woman was able to dodge the attack with ease.
Rose twirled around, and took her stance again. The shopkeeper's wife laughed. "You'll have to do better than that!" Rose merely grunted in response.
"Quiet, witch!" the gypsy snapped.
The shopkeeper's wife gathered up a second batch of energy. "Witch? Come now, dear, people who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. Since when is a gypsy and a murderer qualified to condemn anyone, eh?" As she made her inquiry, she casually let loose a second blast. Rose didn't move, but instead raised her hand. Suddenly, there was a smell of grass and lilacs, and a pale pink barrier surrounded the raven haired woman. The energy blast reflected harmlessly off of the barrier. Rose took a step forward, still in her battle stance. She said nothing in response.
"Unless..." the other woman mused, "Unless you are a witch hunter?" she offered with a laugh. "Perhaps sent by the church? Yes, yes, that must be it. You've come to kill me and this stupid man for going against the will of the church. Is that it?" Rose lunged forward. The woman took a step back, dodging the first attack, but was unable to dodge the second. Rose's dagger found itself in the woman's left shoulder blade. Dark blood flowed forth, staining her nightgown. The shopkeeper's wife grabbed her wound, and hissed.
"How dare you! This man married me in full knowledge of my true nature! We had an agreement. He would provide me with a comfortable life in exchange for the smallest fraction of my power. He was by no means ignorant!" she snarled. The shopkeeper's wife grabbed a bottle from a shelf nearby, and shattered it upon the counter. Then, she rushed at Rose with her makeshift weapon. The sharp glass stopped against the soft light of the energy barrier, deadening the blow. However, the barrier began to waver. Rose knew it would only be a few seconds before it faded. She drew another knife from the sheaths on her thigh, and hurled it at the woman. It struck her in the right leg.
"I don't care." Rose said coldly. "I don't care about any of that!" she added, now with more force in her voice. And with that, she leapt into the air, and seemed to disappear.
The shopkeeper's wife looked around the darkened shop. "Come now, my dear. You think you can hide from me?" She spoke with confidence, but in reality, the she was nervous. She didn't exactly know who or what she was dealing with here. The woman heard a loud clang come from across the store. She filled her hands with energy once more, and crept over in the direction of the sound. However, when she arrived at the source, she found only a dagger. The gypsy must have thrown it to mislead me, she thought. "Clever. Very clever!" the woman bluffed. "However, you can't hide from me forever! You won't be able to leave, and I've many hours before I exhaust even a portion of my arcane power!"
At that moment, she heard a loud sound. A burst of brilliant light filled the room, originating from the rafters. In the light, she could see the gypsy woman clearly. She was up on the support beams, with a rifle drawn. Suddenly, a searing pain tore through the woman's body as something small and cold pierced her heart. As it did, there was a loud sound like a churchbell, and a flash of radiance. As the bullet tore through her flesh and shattered her bone, it released the holy chrism oil into her bloodstream. Her body was wracked with pain as she began to feel her strength weakening.
Rose dropped from above. As she fell, she flung a dagger at her target, striking her squarely in the torso. Her feet hit the floor with a thud, and she instinctively drew her last two daggers. She ran at the woman, both blades flashing in the afterglow, and then made two quick, precise strikes, as accurate as a surgeon and as quickly as the strike of a cobra.
One blade tore at the woman's throat, while the other buried itself within the gunshot wound, shattering the chrism bullet, and ensuring that any unreleased oils would escape into her body. The shopkeeper's wife dropped to her knees, her eyes frozen wide open in horror, and her skin translucent and clammy with sweat as the sacred bullet ate away at the evil within her.
Rose pulled back, taking a brief moment to look at her victim. She felt no remorse. She turned, ignoring the woman as she gasped and moaned, and walked back to the center of the room. She hopped up just high enough to reach Camellia where she had left her on the rafters, and placed her lovingly back into her sling. And with that, she left.
------
Rose rattled upon the door of her client's home. She was still dirty and covered in the blood of her quarry, but couldn't afford to wait until morning, lest the couple be discovered. The use of the chrism bullet would lead many to believe it to be the work of a witch hunter, especially given the nature of the shop. However, be that as it may, she couldn't risk staying around town.
After some insistent knocking, her client came to the door.
"Did you...?"
Before he could finish, Rose nodded. "I need to get out of here. I need my payment."
He nodded, and walked back into his house. Within a few moments, he returned with a fat purse. Rose took it from him hastily, and tied it to her belt. It was a nice sum. With that much money, she could live comfortably for a little while, or at least afford to get some decent daggers and some maintenance done on Camellia. She nodded, and turned to leave.
The client stopped her. "Wait... I want to tell you... how grateful I am. I feel as if you have given me a great gift... the gift of closure."
Rose frowned. "Please. Your son is still dead. I merely killed the ones who you placed the blame upon. It's hardly a gift."
"I suppose you are right. Thank you anyway, though." he said, sounding a little sad. As he turned to go back into his home, Rose called after him.
"One last thing, though..." she asked. "Your son... what color were his eyes?"
The client looked puzzled. "His eyes? His eyes were blue."
Rose nodded, satisfied with his answer. "I'm sure he was a beautiful boy. It's a shame... a shame that he died."
The man seemed somewhat surprised. "Um... yes... we feel that way, too. He looked so much like his mother." Rose turned away, and began to walk towards the entrance of town.
As she walked, she looked up at the moon. It comforted her. The moonlight always reminded her of her past. As she left the borders of Lac-à-montagne, she recalled the old stories she was told as a child.
"Born in no land under any man, under the light of the moon, he will come to you..." she whispered to herself.
-----
A few days later, in a nearby farming community, Rose heard rumors of an unusual kingdom to the west of Lac-à-montagne. Surrounded by mountains, it was said that this country was covered by eternal night. Without any current job offers, and with her purse lined with enough money to keep her fed for a month or so, she decided to go an investigate this mysterious land, with hopes of coming across fellow Larento tribesfolk.
A short time later, Rose met up with a mismatch band of travelers- the cheerful and highspirited gypsy bard, Marlvian, a prince of the imps, a stern paladin without a soul, and the nezumibito hunter Hollowfang. The team ended up in the land of eternal night, and encountered a wicked castle that was the embodiment of evil, ruled by an aging, but cursed lord, and his mysterious twin heirs.
Long story short, the lord of the castle was defeated, and Rose became the Lord of the Manor, and gave birth to the Gypsy King. However, all was not as she had hoped- her paladin companion, who had been very dutiful, was really a terrible man. Without his soul, his innocence was restored, but once his true self was restored upon the defeat of the castle's lord, he became a heartless and wicked man, who led his god's people in a war against Rose and her infant king. Rose and her child were slain by this paladin- but it just so happened that the nun who had saved Rose's life so many years ago found out about this, and out of mercy, used her powers to resurrect her.
Filled with grief, Rose left the kingdom, and took it upon herself to punish every cleric, paladin, and magician responsible for the death of her family and child. One by one, she cut a killing swath across the northern continents, until she met up with a mysterious psion named Alma. Alma was the leader of a upstart movement to remove the irresponsible influence of magic from the world. Rose immediately identified with her cause, and Alma made Rose a member of her secret task force, Phantom. Rose spent the next five years living in the southernmost continent, helping Alma eliminate the threat of magic by assassinating up and coming sorcerer kings and oppressive churches.
Recently, Rose was transferred to Alma's other branch, Aerie, upon Alma's disappearance. Currently, she is working with the members of Aerie to find Alma somewhere in the Astral Plane, and to save the future from the sorcery-mongering presence of the ancient evil known only as the Dread, a malevolent force responsible for the donwfall of the planet and of mankind itself.
And just for those who are curious...
Rose's race/class- LN Human Lurk, Level 10 (The lurk is a new class from the Complete Psionic, a great book that is definitely worth picking up if you are a fan- and why wouldn't you be?- of 3.5 Psionics.) And yeah, I know what you are gonna say- "A NON-EVIL ASSASSIN?!!!!!DHSUsj8w7d1928!1oneoneone HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE?!!?" Well, it is. Adjust accordingly.
Hippie magic, the group was called the Cult of Ectasy. A lot of getting into a trance/alternite perceptions(those rocks are my eyes, man) and visions of the future. Primary thro sex(not just tantric), drugs, and rock and roll(music and/dancing).
Good for a party, but they don't get much done.
Hermetics are very much Harry potter, even tho they call their magic the Arts, they treat it very much like science, training for years and years thro apprenticship and following spell ingredianets and directions.
I forgot to mentions a group that was used alot but wasn't a mystic tradition.
The hollow ones. Goth magic, tho it traces its roots to flapper days of the 20's, with seances and stuff. I hated them.
Can NPC's develop their backstories?
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Avvy from Le Gambit Extendo-Sliver Master of Death and Taxes
You really can't get away.
I've tried.
Yeah, I'm familiar with the concept of hermetic magic, I was just wondering how accurate the game portrayed it. If it's even close to Harry Potter, probably not that accurate, I'm assuming.
I actually am intrigued by the magical activities of the 20s. During the 20s, dabbling in the occult became a popular hobby for the wealthy and indulgent, picking up on the remnants of the age of secret societies from the early 1900s. I always found it very interesting, if not a bit reckless. I wouldn't call them "hollow", as they have very sound bases in magical tradition, but the practice of it was commonly done for a lot of the wrong reasons. Of course, that's just from an occult standpoint, it could be presented very differently in the game proper.
And yes, anyone can feel free to participate in this contest, members or NPCs alike.
"Hippie" magic sounds a lot like the concept of chaos magic, which became popular in the 70s, and involved a fusion of new age philosophy, a melange of magical traditions from the world over, and a heavy interest in death and sex, in particular.
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[16:23] Alacar Leoricar: maybe if you do it'll make the porn more meaningful
This is the story of Feenix the Icarii (fantasy setting)
Icarii are basicly Winged humans. They can sing very well, and with this music comes the Icarii magic. This magic comes from the star dance. Icarii can see very far in the dark and light and are aware even before birth. They have a natural ability to speak with other humanoids with their minds. Tje "mind voice" is closely linked to the star dance. Some Icarii have the rare talent to listen to the discord of the Star dance, these Icarii can do evil things with the music.
A sudden awareness. Floating in an abbysal state of confusion the young child awoke. She could think, for all Icarii babys could think. She could feel, yet all feeling was weak and numb. She knew she was safe yet didn't know how for she was lost in they darkness.
She reached out with her senses and felt another. This being was very close, she reached out and could feel it. It was alive and it reached back. who are you? I do not know a voice sang back. Are you lost too? I am. Yet I feel safe
A third voice entered the minds of these children You are awake. The voice sang. Who are you? I am your mother.
The three of them spent the rest of that day talking. The talked about the world, about life, and about death. About destany and about choices. Her father came home late that night. There was movement and a sudden stop, The young child could feel another presence now. Her father. Who are you? She asked the new person Why, your father of course. Her dad laughed and touched her mind.
The rest of the night her father sang to his children, teaching them songs of power and about the star dance.
Her life was perfect.
Weeks went by for her, the void was getting smaller and it was getting harder for her to move. Her mother never explaned what this meant.
One day her mother was outside walking in the woods. She had explaned this to her and her sibling before they left. It was almost night when her mother started to go into labor.
Noone was around, or so they thought.
Her mother was attacked, by who she doesn't know. But her mother died there in the woods and the void started to get cold.
Her last thoughts were that of mortal terror.
She died.
A familiar feeling came to the young child. It was a feeling of awareness. Life. How? She screamed with her mind, yet there was no answer. She opened her eyes for the first time to see the face of a wolf. It looked down on her with pity, she was covered in blood.
"Oh my gods" a voice cried from above the wolf. "She is alive"
It was her father.
He wiped off the blood from her and brought her back to the house.
"Feenix" He said. "your name is Feenix"
Feenix spent the next few years without the luxery of wings. She learnt more of the star dance and sang well with her dad.
When she was 12 she started to go out alone, her wings were developed and she wanted to explore Delvenport. The forests were inviting to her, she spent alot of her time there playing with creatures of the wild.
This was the time she discovered her talent. Feenix coudl speak to animals.
Most creatures in the wood were friendly to a humanoid that could speak to them. She spent most of her time in the forest philosophising with Eagles, Chatting with Raccoons, and flying with the birds. Each jaunt through the wood she would get farther and farther away from home.
One day she got lost. She was in a part of the forest about 16 miles northwest of Delvenport, or so she thought. She fell through a hole in the forest floor into a strange room, it was a cave, yet it was made by someone, or something. It looked as if it had been abbandoned or lost. In the center of what looked like a gigantic nest was an emerald Egg. Help me...
The voice sounded desperate Anyone? Please!
It was growing frantic
She went up to it and picked it up Don't worry, Im here for you. she said to the strange egg.
The voice went away and the egg felt calm. Feenix tucked it into her sack and flew back to the surface. She was still lost but now had a companion to journy with. A dragon companion.
She never did make it back home that night. She spent this one with the forest and kept moving to the northeast. She would spend a few weeks in a town and move on. Icarii usually wernt that welcome so she would have to cover her wings at times. It was a few years later that Feenix and her dragon friend came upon the city of Solgard.
Yeah, I'm familiar with the concept of hermetic magic, I was just wondering how accurate the game portrayed it. If it's even close to Harry Potter, probably not that accurate, I'm assuming.
I actually am intrigued by the magical activities of the 20s. During the 20s, dabbling in the occult became a popular hobby for the wealthy and indulgent, picking up on the remnants of the age of secret societies from the early 1900s. I always found it very interesting, if not a bit reckless. I wouldn't call them "hollow", as they have very sound bases in magical tradition, but the practice of it was commonly done for a lot of the wrong reasons. Of course, that's just from an occult standpoint, it could be presented very differently in the game proper.
And yes, anyone can feel free to participate in this contest, members or NPCs alike.
"Hippie" magic sounds a lot like the concept of chaos magic, which became popular in the 70s, and involved a fusion of new age philosophy, a melange of magical traditions from the world over, and a heavy interest in death and sex, in particular.
just cause I do things backwards
yeah that hippie magic seems like that, except not much focus on death ( acouple other groups did that a bit too much)
The Hollow One's actually took there name (as much as a group that isn't a group can have a name) from part of a poem by Lord Byron, or someone else who was influencial then. Their magical tradition is actually well established.
Hermetics: I used Harry Potter as an example, but its a poor one. The rest of the groups view this group as the old merlins, and in truth there agenda is bringing back the High Mythic ages. The creator (white wolf) did a hell of a lot of research for all their stuff, including this one. In comparing the information presented there with my own research, I was surprised with how it matched up. Of course you could see where they chaged things for the game, and the system. Each of the guide books had a set of references in the back of where WW based alot of their info on.
From the time he was a child, the villagers knew something just wasn't right about that boy. Sometimes he would be in a corner, out of the way, as he felt wall or other obstructions comforting. Other days he would stand between two trees or at the end of a one person bridge. Usually repeating the same gibberish for hours. Something about doorways held a particular facination with the boy. After three days of no customers, Yukora, Town Armor Shop owner, put him in a potato sack and loaded him onto the next wagon to another town. And such the adventures of In the way Guy started, added by helpful villagers who keep sending him to new towns and other places.
From the time he was a child, the villagers knew something just wasn't right about that boy. Sometimes he would be in a corner, out of the way, as he felt wall or other obstructions comforting. Other days he would stand between two trees or at the end of a one person bridge. Usually repeating the same gibberish for hours. Something about doorways held a particular facination with the boy. After three days of no customers, Yukora, Town Armor Shop owner, put him in a potato sack and loaded him onto the next wagon to another town. And such the adventures of In the way Guy started, added by helpful villagers who keep sending him to new towns and other places.
Yep, that sounds about right. There is only one game that I know of where you can attack these "in the way guys". That would be Radiata stories...and you rarely have to in that game.
On Mage: Well, if he did the research, it might actually be really cool. Mamelon tells me the magic system is very organic, and flexible, which is always a plus.
On backstories: In the way Guy FTW! LMAO
That's awesome.
Alacar: It's interesting to see the history behind the character after all this time.
Feenix: What sort of setting is this character used in, out of curiousity?
Feenix is in a fantasy setting (though apperantly there is moderen technology in some of the towns that I am unaware of... :s ). This is one of my characters in the collo for the [CTP].
Feenix is in a fantasy setting (though apperantly there is moderen technology in some of the towns that I am unaware of... :s ). This is one of my characters in the collo for the [CTP].
Ah, okay. Remember to state what the setting/game is for your character, so we have a point of reference.
So, am I reading correctly- is she telepathic?
Edit: Ah okay. Missed that part in the intro. Sorry.
Photon: Rose looks like a woman who devotes herself entirely to her work, because it's all she has left. Almost tragic. Nicely written background!
And Alacar's statistics:
Well, it's hard to put Alacar at a certain level. It's been so long since I've used him, I was playing 2nd edition AD&D. So I remade him, using my favorite prestige class.
Alacar Leoricar
Male Chaotic Good Half-Elf Age 24 Height 5'10" Weight 170 Eyes Jade Hair Black Skin Caucasian Deity Tymora (Lady Luck)
That's how he'll advance, so I can easily modify him to fit up to a 12th level campaign/adventure.
Special Items: Blade of Krallis--Functions as a Bastard Sword +1 but it is indestructible. No physical or magical damage can harm it; a wish or miracle spell can destroy it completely. Alacar found this blade when he returned to Krallis a year after the tragedy.
Mithral Chain Shirt: Due to his Spellsword class, he can ignore the spell failure checks up to 20%.
Skills: Alacar prefers to start off by using ranged spells like Magic Missile and Lightning Bolt, which he has taken the feat Spell Mastery on. Then he goes in close combat with his sword, which is channeled with a Hold Person spell. The spell is charged into his weapon, and is cast on a successful hit.
Man, I really need to be more active here. I was really excited about the formation of this clan, and now that it's here, I hardly ever post. I just haven't been myself lately - this week, especially.
Case in point: about 45 minutes ago, I somehow managed to spill some water on the mouse-pad. I mopped it up for the most part, and the mouse didn't seem to get wet, and none of it got on the keyboard or any wiring. But when I tried moving the mouse around after I'd wiped it, to see if it still worked, I guess I accidently got some water inside it, and it stopped working.
So, after spending almost half an hour messing with it, I went and got an older mouse of ours and hooked it up, and it's working fine now. It just hocks me off. I'm so sick of annoying little things like this happening, little things that build up, and they always seem to be my fault.
Anyway, I know that's not RPG related, just venting.
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All that I yearn for, for richer or poorer, is to be the light that you see. All that I yearn for, for richer or poorer, is to be the peace that you feel. All that I yearn for, for richer or poorer, is to fill your heart on my own.
But the rainbow is an image of hope for many reasons, as it is a brilliant sight coming out of oftimes dismal weather.
Well, here is the story of my samurai , Yoshemi Moto, for the Legend of the Five Rings setting. After this post, I will make a smaller one detailing some of the specifics of this gaming world, which will help shed some light.
Yoshemi Moto
Yoshemi was a young girl of six years. She lived with her father, Murakami of the White Guard. He was a quiet and sad man, but he loved Yoshemi greatly and did the best for her that he could. She, like all Moto Children, grew acustom to her fathers frighting, ghostly armor and she studied long and hard to learn of the history of her family. And their dishonour.
She, like all Moto children, grew to accept this.
Yoshemi and her father lived on the fronteer, near the shadowlands. Her father was a watchman, constantly keeping guard against the evil of that fel place. One day, like many before it, he was called into battle; to defend the empire yet again against Fu Lengs advances.
Only this time, he never came back. She waited in the house, crying to herself. She spent hours gazing out of her small cottages lone window and watched the cycle of the sun and moon several times. You see, the one lesson that her father was most strict about was his insistance that she remain indoors when he was away on a mission. "The dark demons of the shadowlands are everywhere", he would say, "even if you cannot see them".
Eventually though, she could contain herself no longer. She was hungry, weary and exausted from crying. She left her house. And began walking.
For several days she walked. Picking grasses and herbs she had learned were edible and drinking occasionally from the cold mountain streams. Yoshemi was but a child though, and eventually sucummed to exaustion and sorrow.
The warm nuzzling of a bristly nose roused her from sleep. She glanced up to see the most magestic horse she had ever seen, his eyes burning with intelegence and concern. It seemed the most natural thing to climb onto his back when he lowered himself to the ground. For several hours the horse ran on. With grim determination and dirrection no one would ever expect from a simple steed.
The horse ran long and hard into the lowlands, beautifull lands of lush green and flora that Yoshemi had only heard stories of. She was facinated and somehow pushed all of her sadness deep inside of her. Then there was a village in the clearing, and several powerfull looking women in red armor rose to attention at the approach of horse and rider. "Are these truly the Otaku?" Yoshemi thought.
Well, This is getting quite long. I want to cut it short. I actually have a short story telling Yoshemi's tale but try to shorten it...
Basically, the Otaku Battle maidens are bonded to thier mounts. Whenever one of the Battle maidens is growing old and near death.. she goes out on one last ride. Usually this takes several days, and then more often than not, her mount will return back to thier home.
This moment is always seen as a prophetic one, and it is up to the Otaku elders to determine it's meaning. Well the horse that Yoshemi rode in on was formerly the mount of a elder battle maiden, and when the other battle maidens saw him return with a child on his back, they saw it as a great sign; that this young girl was to be raised as a one of their own.
There was some concern though, as they soon found out that she was from the cursed Moto family, but on this subject, the eldest of the Otaku was adament.
Yoshemi was to be a Battle Maiden.
Yoshemi is now a full grown woman, and a valuable and honored member of the Otaku, but she secretly still considers herself a Moto. She sees it as her job to bring honor to the Moto family. She realizes that she is in a very rare and precious possition and she is determined to make the best of it.
Yoshemi is stubborn in one aspect though. She refuses to wear the traditional battlemaiden armor, prefering to wear ghostly armor fashioned in the style of her fathers.. Many Otaku frown on this, but others accept this eccentricity in an otherwise outstanding friend and comrade.
You want us to create a back story of some sort... Interesting. Ill have to make one up concidering my major lack of RPing that wasn't on Ps2 or Xbox. Ill make something up though, just not now.
thanks DarkNightCavalier for the sig!
My Trade Thread
Well, feel free- but, why not use one of your collo characters?
@Sliver Underlord: Hermetic magic has always piqued my interest. But seriously... hippie magic? WTF? What do they do, create elaborate hemp weavings and spellbind the minds of their enemies with the sheer force of their lack of hygiene?
After her brother and mother died, she grew to truly cherish life, yet still uncertain of those around her, fearful that they may suddenly leave her like her family had. She had boyfriends in her teens, but once her mother was diagnosed, she had no time for such things. However, she still yearned for it, she just simply vented her affections and caring soul on her ailing father and those she worked with, while still hoping someday to meet someone who would never abandon her, willingly or unwillingly, as her family had, but remains accepting and resolute in the permanence of her seeming destiny alone.
Magic Coffeehouse!
Come in, sit down, relax, get to know somebody!
Open Three and a Half Years as of October 19, 2009!
Banner by PurpleD and avatar/custom by Tanthalas
Razia is Danica's character from Rise.
I'll put up my submission at a later time, when I'm not knee deep in GMing dialogue.
Vampire is one of those games that is very dependant on the skills of your gm and playgroup.
We have had two fantastic vampire games.
One of them was set simultaniously in the Dark Ages and the Present day.
The Gm would start the session out in the present, where we have very powerfull characters. At some point, he would go back to the dark ages, where our characters were either still human or ghouls and in the dark ages game, he would introduce some plot element. Like a flashback that you play through.
In this particular game, it had very little politics and more just mystery solving, role playing, and combat. When I say very little politics, I mean it. I believe that the only political thing going on in the game was my character, one of the two last capadocians, seeking vindication on the clan who destroied his family while he was sleeping. That ammounted to combat, necromancy and outright domination. heh.
The other vampire game, and the one we currently play occasionally, is all set in the modern world. And while it does deal somewhat with politics, our gm has flavored it with maturity and it comes across without a hint of "emoisim" The overall plot line is a war triangle between the Camarilla (the "good guys"), the Sabat, and the Werewolfs. We're basically trying to smooth things over with the werewolfs now, and it's containing a lot of combat. Moreso than politics. (for werewolfs, war is politics)
As far as the clans themselves go. I hate most of them. I only truly love the Tremere, who I can see being played as mystics of a sort. Though, I believe the key to enjoying any of the clans fully involves a little bit of creative interpitation
My Tremere is very much a "good guy", who is on this personal quest, that he shares with his wife, to reconnect the links that enable humans to be mages. Links that they lost when they became undead. Basically, it's one of those Quixotic quests that will never be realised, but roleplaything through it is fantastic fun.
I really like the set up of that first game, actually. That's really quite innovative!
I took an online quiz once, and it said I would fit best in some clan called the Brujah, or Brujo. Don't know much about them. There was this clan I liked, which was like this council of leader vampires or something.
So far we think we managed to get a foot inside. The leader of our group is trying to flirt his way into good graces with the leader for the local labourers guild as we hope to get him a job inside the house of the wizard this way. We have also managed to get some contacts in there by staging a mugging attempt on one of the servants there after we observed him on drugs out from a taver that one of us are working at a bouncer. So the fake mugging attempt gave us an opportunity to save the bastard to get on his good side. We managed this.. altough the dude barley remembered his own name and also was having problems remembering ours as he was quite drugged down.
But yeah it was a highlight watching our poor captain trying to flirt with the dm. Everyone was laughing so hard.
But yeah, next week we will hopefully be able to finally get inside the damn mansion so that we can get a look around and locate the damn box. Locating the box will alow me, our hadosee swashbuckler and our rouge to sneak into the mansion at night and steal the box. Hopefully without waking up the wizard or any guards there.
[thread=41221][my extendo sig][/thread] [thread=56664][moderator helpdesk][/thread] [Pen and Paper Inn]
Just add me on msn if you have any questions or just want to talk
I love when those awkward situations arise!
In our Star Trek game, I'm playing captain Cid Ramsey, and we are currently on an exploration mission in Klingon space. (In the game, my character is a diplomatic captain and managed to arrange an alliance with the Klingon Empire). And while on this Klingon planet, I decided to try to seduce this Klingon woman and it was halarous. I thought up this great inuendo and said it to the Klingon woman. Our Gm is really cool and quick on his feet though and he didn't miss a step and quickly fired back his own inuendo!....
The enginer of the party is a telepathic race and he just happened to be reading the klingon womans mind at the time. The player decided it was time for him to make a willpower roll for his character, which he failed, and he imediantly lost his lunch in the middle of this Klingon banquet (which the Klingons though was halarious and made sense anyways) It was classic
Oh, and I have my character for the background story competition. It's a female samurai for the Legend of the five rings game. I'm going to have to post some background information on the universe and the clan she belongs to though, or else her background story wont make any sense. I'll keep it brief though.
*tries to mull over which has the best story... then realizes he needs to actually remember the stories first...*
The isle was home of the city of Krallis, a port city completely inhabited by elves. Wood elves of the old age of Cormanthor's height. Though the world shifted and changed around them, these elves were very conservative, and kept to themselves. Their primary source of income and supplies was through trade, making and selling feywine with passing merchants. Though the merchants were free to take port, they were not even permitted to stay on the island more than they had to. Strict laws kept all other races out of the isle; they claimed that their soil was the last true bastion of the old world, and they wanted to preserve it. This had become so deeply ingrained into the elves' ethics that all outsiders were shunned and discriminated against, even hated and attacked. Drow were killed on sight.
One day, 24 years ago, there lived a hard-working bar wench named Aria. She was greatly appreciated, and even respected in the community. She was not your typical working girl; she'd been working that bar for fourty years. Every day she thanked her stars for elven immortality, so she would keep her job. She was sweeping up when merchants arrived on the port. Always one for news from the outside world, she met a human whose name is lost to the sands of time. She fell in love with his man, and in an act of reckless lust, or love, it is not known for certain, Aria was laden with child.
What could she do? Humans were forbidden from being on the isle. Half-breeds were considered 'filthy' and 'mutated'. She had to keep it a secret. She tried to while she carried the child for a year. Elven pregnancies last longer; 2 years for elf-elf, 1 year for half. This would be her downfall, as she developed faster, and people began to question her. A mage was called to check her womb, and upon discovering the secret, her world was shattered.
Aria was taken before the king for high treason: Taking unto herself a foreign species. She was forced to bear the child, separated from the world. She was shunned by the community that had once adored her. The mage even divined the location of the father, and when he returned on another mercantile run with his crew, he was arrested and executed by beheading.
Aria lived alone, being tended to by a midwife that hated her for her blasphemy. She bore the child in great pain, without much help. She only saw him for a fleeting moment, naming him 'Alacar,' before her child was snatched away. Aria was banished from the isle, never to return or see her child.
Alacar was raised as an elf, lied to for much of his youth. He was teased for being taller and stronger and different from the other elf youths; he was told by his foster parents, the Leoricars, that he was special. He always got into fights and scuffles, so he took up a sword in his adolesence and learned to fight.
But about 4 years ago, a dark cloud fell over Krallis. Dark ships with black sails swept toward the isle, and orc pirates invaded. They overwhelmed the isle and destroyed it all. Alacar thought he was going to die--he hid in the basement under the wreckage of his destroyed home, trying to nurse his wounded parents. There they told him the truth; Aria. The human. The pregnancy. His illegitimate birth. His world was shattered, just as it crumbled to dust.
Maybe it was fate. Maybe this kingdom fell because of its arrogance. Its closed-minded view on the world. He had lived among them. Was he any better or worse? No. He was a person. If Krallis had opened it doors, it might have gotten help, or more people to defend the kingdom. Alacar kept telling himself that as he tried to come to grips with his origins.
Alacar emerged, seeing the island obliterated. Everyone he knew was dead. He had nothing left, so he had to move on. He had to find his mother...
But that's a story for another time...
I'll have a character sheet record for Alacar Leoricar in a moment.
Like freeform roleplaying? Try Darkness Befalls Us
Ryttare Kelasin Luna Orelinalei
an unnatural love towardsperfectly reasonable respect for Lightning Bolt.The Kiwi third of The Salt Mine Podcast: An Australian Legacy Podcast
Rose is one of the Larento gypsies, a band of nomadic people who were gifted with a special psionic talent. They follow no god, only owing allegiance to a mythical man they call the Gypsy King. This King has not been born yet, but it is said that when he is finally born, the Larento will finally be able to stop wandering and have a kingdom of their own. Until they, they must always wander, and no Larento can ever be born or die anywhere except under the light of the moon- in order to fulfill the prophecy of the King's birth.
Several years prior to the story, the Larento were assaulted by a particularly zealous bishop of a church of one of the old gods. Almost all of the Larento were killed. Rose, her grandmother, and her brother Angelo escaped, only to be ambushed by a squadron of the church's warrior clerics and slaughtered.
Rose, however, survived thanks to the kindness of one of the church's nuns, and then became an assassin. Since then, she bears an incredible grudge towards all divine casters and religious folk, and believes it is her destiny to eliminate the irresponsible use of divine power from the world.
Now, onto the actual prologue-
8 Days Before the Fateful Encounter...
"Welcome to Gold's Curio!" the shopkeeper greeted cheerfully. He was a young man, in his mid thirties. He was handsome, but had a bookish appearance that offset his youthful looks. His robes were made of fine silk, and embroidered with intricate designs. Rose met his greeting with a small nod, and began to peruse his selection of goods.
Old books... lifeless wands... oddly colored tinctures and fluids being passed off as potions... Rose grunted to herself. She should have suspected it would have been garbage.
Nevertheless, she continued to browse the merchandise at a leisurely pace, making her circuit around the store.
The skopkeeper gave Rose a curious look.
"Um... ma'am? Was there something you needed?" Rose didn't answer. "Ma'am?"
"Ah, no. I'm just looking around." the black-haired woman said sheepishly, brushing her bangs away from her face, and palming a finely painted urn. She placed the urn back on a shelf, and then began to continue her shopping. A woman, wearing a tight black dress and an elaborate hairstyle sacheted into the store from a door behind the counter. She caressed the neck of the shopkeeper, making him blush, before stepping past him, and grabbing a large ledger from beneath the counter. She glanced into the notebook, and gave a disatisfied cluck
"That's pathetic." the woman stated, her voice betraying some irritation. "Have you sold anything today?" The shopkeep merely shook his head.
"No, no I haven't. It's not a big deal. It's like that sometimes, dear. Don't be so apprehensive." he responded calmly. He placed his hands on the woman's hips, and kissed her softly on her neck. Instead of returning his affection, she merely pulled away and rolled her eyes.
"What about her?" she asked, motioning towards Rose. "Is she shopping, or just waiting for you to get distracted so she can steal something?" Rose looked up, and glanced at the woman. Rose held her tongue, but acknowledged the other woman with a nod. The shopkeeper's wife, however, was not so civil. She gave Rose a suspicious glance before turning her back and stepping towards the door behind the counter.
"She looks like she has some gypsy in her. If she hasn't bought anything yet, then she'll probably just rob us blind. Get rid of her, dear." she announced coldly before retreating through the back door.
Her husband hung his head for a moment, but looked up and gave Rose an apologetic smile.
"You'll have to excuse her... every since we got married 6 months ago, she's been on edge. She's not used to having to live from day to day like this. I'm sorry if she offended you, she's just worried about our finances."
Rose returned the young man's smile. She nodded her head. "That's okay. That sort of thing doesn't bother me anymore." With that, the raven haired woman left the shop.
The sun made Rose's eyes hurt as she left the dimly lit curio shop. The streets of Lac-à-montagne were bustling with mid-day activity. Farmers had gathered in a makeshift marketplace in the town square, peddling their crops and wares, while the area shopkeepers opened their doors and windows to allow the cool spring air to circulate through their establishments and clear out the dust tracked in on the boots of countless customers.
Rose shielded her eyes with her right hand, and looked around the marketplace. Amidst the gentle din of mercantilism, she spotted something that caught her attention. Across the street, in a narrow alley between a small cafe and an inn stood a man in a black cloak. His face was hidden, but Rose could feel his eyes upon her.
Casually, she walked across the street. Taking care not to be seen, she ducked into the alley and placed her back to the wall in order to cloak herself in the shadows. The cloaked man didn't move, nor did he even seem surprised by Rose's appearance. It was almost as if they had been waiting for each other.
"So?" the man asked. His voice was a rough baritone, masculine and gruff.
"4500 silver." she responded. "That's my price."
"Forget it, you gypsy *****," the cloaked man growled. "That's robbery."
Rose shrugged, seemingly unphased. "That's business. Of course, I suppose you could always find someone else to do this for you." The gypsy woman turned away, and prepared to leave. Suddenly, the cloaked man reached out and grabbed ahold of her shoulder, stopping her.
"No, wait!" he exclaimed, his voice a little softer. "It's.. it's alright. 4500 it is. It's a lot... but... it's worth it." Rose looked over her shoulder at the man. He seemed to be remembering something upsetting, and his hand was trembling a little as he held onto her. Although she had only met him that morning, she could tell what was troubling him.
"This won't bring him back, you know."
"Yeah..." he stated, his voice quiet and a little sad. "I know."
"Well, then," the gypsy woman continued. "4500 silver. But I'm going to need some supplies for this particular job."
"Supplies? Don't tell me you don't have your own lockpicks."
Rose shook her head. "Not those kind of supplies. We're dealing with more than just some snake oil salesman... there's definitely something unnatural in that store. Even for the short time I was in there, I could feel it. The entire place reeks of witchcraft." The cloaked man sighed.
"Fine. Just tell me what you need. I'll have it sent to your room." Rose's eyes narrowed, and her lip curled in a scowl.
"Idiot. Do you want to get arrested?" she growled. "This needs to be clean. Just hand over the silver. I know some people who can get me what I need." Rose extended her arm, and opened her hand in request. The man reached to his belt, and removed a pouch from the loop. He dropped it in Rose's hand. It jingled, but not with the weight of 4500 silver by far.
As if to anticipate the woman's next question, the cloaked man spoke. "That's enough for the supplies. You'll get the rest when complete the job." Rose nodded.
"Agreed." And with that, the two individuals left the alley in separate directions.
----------
Rose had come to the town of Lac-à-montagne a few days ago at the request of a bourgeois merchant. His young son had recently died from a terminal illness. The man was grief-stricken, but was horrified to find from the town physician that the "magical remedy" that the family had been treating the boy with was not only ineffective, but may have actually worsened the condition. The family had purchased this remedy for an exorbitant price from the owner of a local curio shop, who claimed the mystic remedy was made from alacorn and was guaranteed to save their son.
Rose's client was furious. Not only had he swindled them, but he had played upon their hopes and desparation, and poisoned their son, who was already suffering so greatly. Now, he sought revenge.
Rose was commissioned to assassinate the shopkeeper. Some time had passed since the meeting in the alley. She was now in her room in the town inn, and she was preparing herself for action. She strapped a half-dozen daggers to her leg, and then carefully adjusted her toolbelt. Checking each pocket thoroughly to ensure everything was in it's place, she grabbed her cloak from the coatrack by the door, and pulled it on. She drew the hood, covering her face and eyes, masking her features from any would-be witnesses.
Then, she knelt down next to the bed, and pulled a duffel bag out from under the bed.
"Camellia, it's time to get ready for work," she said quietly. She opened the bag, and withdrew a single matchlock rifle. It was smooth and well polished, with metal the color of rust. The handle of the rifle was made out of darkwood, and a single camellia blossom had been carved into the handle. Rose took exceptional care of her weapon, and treated it almost as if it were a companion.
After sliding the rifle into a sling across her back, she removed a pouch of bullets from her bag, and tucked it into her belt. "Camellia, I got you a present." the gypsy woman stated to no one in particular. She reached into her pocket, and removed a single bullet. It was glistening slightly. The cap of the bullet was made of fine silver, but the rest of it appeared to be made of some sort of crystal substance. Slightly luminscent liquid filled crystal core. "You should thank me. I had to deal with some turncoat priest to get my hands on some genuine chrism, so I hope you appreciate it, old girl." Rose tucked the bullet safely back in her pocket, and then stepped over to the mirror.
The vanity table was effectively bare. Rose carried very little in terms of personal effects, particularly the more frivolous ones the common women adored. However, upon the table sat a single object- a beautiful disc-shaped piece of mithral silver, carved with a variety of protective symbols. In it's center sat a solitary socket, once the home to a rather large moonstone that had long ago been misplaced. Rose carefully picked up the disc, and fastened it to the breast of her jacket. She looked in the mirror for a moment, and then sighed, as if releasing her anxiety.
"All right girls. Let's get moving."
--------
Upon the roof of the inn, Rose could see the entire city with ease. Lac-à-montagne was a beautiful sight at night, with the moon reflecting upon the lake, quietly casting it's glistening light upon the beach. The sight of the moon comforted Rose, and reminded her of happier days. She crawled carefully across the shingled roof, and leapt down a bit to the roof of the cafe. Taking care not to make any noise, Rose scaled carefully down the upper window ledge of the cafe, and balanced herself upon an awning over the entrance.
The town was dark for the most part, and Gold's Curio was no different. The shopkeeper had long ago retired for the evening- Rose assumed to a cold bed with his wife. She let herself fall from the awning, and snuck in the shadows across the street to the entrance of Gold's. Taking care to watch for any witnesses, she removed her lockpicks from her belt, and began to manipulate the locks. Rose held her breath while she worked.
This particular lock was of exceptionally good quality, but she expected as much from any shop selling magical goods- even fake ones. However, even a superior lock couldn't serve as a real challenge for the gypsy's nimble fingers, and soon it released with a soft click. Rose opened the door with care, and snuck inside, her back instinctively placed to the wall. She drew a dagger in each hand, and carefully made her way towards the door behind the counter.
Suddenly, she heard a creak. The black haired woman froze in her spot, her heart thumping. Was someone awake? Rose dared not move, in case it was just the sound of the building settling for the night. However, this was not the case. Rose cursed silently as the telltale glow of lantern light spilled from beneath the frame of the back door. She could shadows cast by feet as someone approached the door.
The gypsy's eyes darted around the room, looking for some place to hide. She noticed that the ceilings were very high vaulted, supported by broad wooden beams. It was not so high up that she couldn't make it into the rafters... but could she do it before the door opened and her entire mission was ruined?
The door opened with a creak. The shopkeeper's wife stood in the threshhold. Although it was dark, one could clearly see a look of anger upon her face. She was wearing an expensive nightgown, and her hair was let down. She held the lantern high, so that it's light could be cast across the entire room.
She breathed easier to find that the shop was empty. Her husband appeared from behind her.
"Dear, is anyone down here?" he asked nervously.
"Of course not, you useless idiot." she snapped. "It must have been your imagination."
The shopkeeper walked out from behind his wife, and looked around. "Huh. I could have sworn... Well, I'm going to check the money box quickly, just to be sure. Stay down here with me?" he asked, meekly. His wife groaned.
"You fool."
Rose wanted so desparately to breath a sigh of relief, but didn't want to betray her position. She watched the couple talking from the rafters, safely out of the range of the lantern's light. Rose quietly drew Camellia from her back, and armed it. She perched carefully on the beam, and took aim at the shopkeeper, who was talking with his wife and counting his money.
Rose carefully aligned Camellia's barrel with her target... a single shot would be all it would take. She preferred it that way. It was much less painful, and quicker for everyone involved. For what felt like an eternity, she stared down the barrel of her rifle, not even daring to breathe. She became perfectly still... her heart rate slowed, her breath ceased. Rose's mind slipped away from all other concerns... slowly, slowly she entered her gunman's trance, her body as still as death itself. In her mind, there was no Rose... there was only Camellia, and her target. Everything else was meaningless darkness.
Then, in a single moment, that quietitude was destroyed as her finger coiled and the trigger was pulled. The bullet flew true and swiftly.
"Oh, you were right, honey. Everything is he-"
The shopkeeper was stopped midsentence as the bullet struck the back of his head. Blood splattered forth, painting the counter and his wife's nightgown with crimson flecks. Slowly, he dropped to the ground, his life snuffed out. Rose took no pleasure in this sight, but also refused to feel remorse. After all, this was her life now. This is what she chose to do.
Any second now, she expected the wife to scream, to react in a way that Rose no longer had the privelege of doing. As the seconds ticked by, and the reality of the moment became clearer and clearer, she
simply stood where she was, not moving, not speaking. Rose was puzzled. Was she in shock, perhaps?
However, what happened next gave Rose a shiver down her spine. The shopkeeper's wife moved. But, instead of tending to her fallen husband, she merely chuckled. She looked up at the rafters, her eyes piercing the darkness. Rose shuddered as the woman's gaze fell upon her. What in the world was going on?
"That was a good shot." the shopkeeper's wife stated, her voice dripping with cruelty. "But I want a turn now!" she shouted. Violet light surrounded her body, and gathered into twin spheres around her hands. With a sharp cry, the woman let loose two blasts of crackling energy, directly into the rafters where Rose was hiding!
Rose sprung out of the way, and tumbled to the floor of the shop, just as the energy bolts smashed into the rafters. She could smell the smoke curling around the impact area as she fell. As she picked herself up, she drew her daggers. During the fall, Rose's cloak had come undone, and her face was clearly visible.
"Well, if it isn't the little gypsy. I knew I had a bad feeling about you." she sneered. Rose didn't bother engaging in conversation. She rushed at the woman, both daggers armed. Despite being in her night attire, the woman was able to dodge the attack with ease.
Rose twirled around, and took her stance again. The shopkeeper's wife laughed. "You'll have to do better than that!" Rose merely grunted in response.
"Quiet, witch!" the gypsy snapped.
The shopkeeper's wife gathered up a second batch of energy. "Witch? Come now, dear, people who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. Since when is a gypsy and a murderer qualified to condemn anyone, eh?" As she made her inquiry, she casually let loose a second blast. Rose didn't move, but instead raised her hand. Suddenly, there was a smell of grass and lilacs, and a pale pink barrier surrounded the raven haired woman. The energy blast reflected harmlessly off of the barrier. Rose took a step forward, still in her battle stance. She said nothing in response.
"Unless..." the other woman mused, "Unless you are a witch hunter?" she offered with a laugh. "Perhaps sent by the church? Yes, yes, that must be it. You've come to kill me and this stupid man for going against the will of the church. Is that it?" Rose lunged forward. The woman took a step back, dodging the first attack, but was unable to dodge the second. Rose's dagger found itself in the woman's left shoulder blade. Dark blood flowed forth, staining her nightgown. The shopkeeper's wife grabbed her wound, and hissed.
"How dare you! This man married me in full knowledge of my true nature! We had an agreement. He would provide me with a comfortable life in exchange for the smallest fraction of my power. He was by no means ignorant!" she snarled. The shopkeeper's wife grabbed a bottle from a shelf nearby, and shattered it upon the counter. Then, she rushed at Rose with her makeshift weapon. The sharp glass stopped against the soft light of the energy barrier, deadening the blow. However, the barrier began to waver. Rose knew it would only be a few seconds before it faded. She drew another knife from the sheaths on her thigh, and hurled it at the woman. It struck her in the right leg.
"I don't care." Rose said coldly. "I don't care about any of that!" she added, now with more force in her voice. And with that, she leapt into the air, and seemed to disappear.
The shopkeeper's wife looked around the darkened shop. "Come now, my dear. You think you can hide from me?" She spoke with confidence, but in reality, the she was nervous. She didn't exactly know who or what she was dealing with here. The woman heard a loud clang come from across the store. She filled her hands with energy once more, and crept over in the direction of the sound.
However, when she arrived at the source, she found only a dagger. The gypsy must have thrown it to mislead me, she thought. "Clever. Very clever!" the woman bluffed. "However, you can't hide from me forever! You won't be able to leave, and I've many hours before I exhaust even a portion of my arcane power!"
At that moment, she heard a loud sound. A burst of brilliant light filled the room, originating from the rafters. In the light, she could see the gypsy woman clearly. She was up on the support beams, with a
rifle drawn. Suddenly, a searing pain tore through the woman's body as something small and cold pierced her heart. As it did, there was a loud sound like a churchbell, and a flash of radiance. As the bullet tore through her flesh and shattered her bone, it released the holy chrism oil into her bloodstream. Her body was wracked with pain as she began to feel her strength weakening.
Rose dropped from above. As she fell, she flung a dagger at her target, striking her squarely in the torso. Her feet hit the floor with a thud, and she instinctively drew her last two daggers. She ran at the woman, both blades flashing in the afterglow, and then made two quick, precise strikes, as accurate as a surgeon and as quickly as the strike of a cobra.
One blade tore at the woman's throat, while the other buried itself within the gunshot wound, shattering the chrism bullet, and ensuring that any unreleased oils would escape into her body. The shopkeeper's wife dropped to her knees, her eyes frozen wide open in horror, and her skin translucent and clammy with sweat as the sacred bullet ate away at the evil within her.
Rose pulled back, taking a brief moment to look at her victim. She felt no remorse. She turned, ignoring the woman as she gasped and moaned, and walked back to the center of the room. She hopped up just high enough to reach Camellia where she had left her on the rafters, and placed her lovingly back into her sling. And with that, she left.
------
Rose rattled upon the door of her client's home. She was still dirty and covered in the blood of her quarry, but couldn't afford to wait until morning, lest the couple be discovered. The use of the chrism bullet would lead many to believe it to be the work of a witch hunter, especially given the nature of the shop. However, be that as it may, she couldn't risk staying around town.
After some insistent knocking, her client came to the door.
"Did you...?"
Before he could finish, Rose nodded. "I need to get out of here. I need my payment."
He nodded, and walked back into his house. Within a few moments, he returned with a fat purse. Rose took it from him hastily, and tied it to her belt. It was a nice sum. With that much money, she could live comfortably for a little while, or at least afford to get some decent daggers and some maintenance done on Camellia. She nodded, and turned to leave.
The client stopped her. "Wait... I want to tell you... how grateful I am. I feel as if you have given me a great gift... the gift of closure."
Rose frowned. "Please. Your son is still dead. I merely killed the ones who you placed the blame upon. It's hardly a gift."
"I suppose you are right. Thank you anyway, though." he said, sounding a little sad. As he turned to go back into his home, Rose called after him.
"One last thing, though..." she asked. "Your son... what color were his eyes?"
The client looked puzzled. "His eyes? His eyes were blue."
Rose nodded, satisfied with his answer. "I'm sure he was a beautiful boy. It's a shame... a shame that he died."
The man seemed somewhat surprised. "Um... yes... we feel that way, too. He looked so much like his mother." Rose turned away, and began to walk towards the entrance of town.
As she walked, she looked up at the moon. It comforted her. The moonlight always reminded her of her past. As she left the borders of Lac-à-montagne, she recalled the old stories she was told as a child.
"Born in no land under any man, under the light of the moon, he will come to you..." she whispered to herself.
-----
A few days later, in a nearby farming community, Rose heard rumors of an unusual kingdom to the west of Lac-à-montagne. Surrounded by mountains, it was said that this country was covered by eternal night. Without any current job offers, and with her purse lined with enough money to keep her fed for a month or so, she decided to go an investigate this mysterious land, with hopes of coming across fellow Larento tribesfolk.
A short time later, Rose met up with a mismatch band of travelers- the cheerful and highspirited gypsy bard, Marlvian, a prince of the imps, a stern paladin without a soul, and the nezumibito hunter Hollowfang. The team ended up in the land of eternal night, and encountered a wicked castle that was the embodiment of evil, ruled by an aging, but cursed lord, and his mysterious twin heirs.
Long story short, the lord of the castle was defeated, and Rose became the Lord of the Manor, and gave birth to the Gypsy King. However, all was not as she had hoped- her paladin companion, who had been very dutiful, was really a terrible man. Without his soul, his innocence was restored, but once his true self was restored upon the defeat of the castle's lord, he became a heartless and wicked man, who led his god's people in a war against Rose and her infant king. Rose and her child were slain by this paladin- but it just so happened that the nun who had saved Rose's life so many years ago found out about this, and out of mercy, used her powers to resurrect her.
Filled with grief, Rose left the kingdom, and took it upon herself to punish every cleric, paladin, and magician responsible for the death of her family and child. One by one, she cut a killing swath across the northern continents, until she met up with a mysterious psion named Alma. Alma was the leader of a upstart movement to remove the irresponsible influence of magic from the world. Rose immediately identified with her cause, and Alma made Rose a member of her secret task force, Phantom. Rose spent the next five years living in the southernmost continent, helping Alma eliminate the threat of magic by assassinating up and coming sorcerer kings and oppressive churches.
Recently, Rose was transferred to Alma's other branch, Aerie, upon Alma's disappearance. Currently, she is working with the members of Aerie to find Alma somewhere in the Astral Plane, and to save the future from the sorcery-mongering presence of the ancient evil known only as the Dread, a malevolent force responsible for the donwfall of the planet and of mankind itself.
And just for those who are curious...
Rose's race/class- LN Human Lurk, Level 10 (The lurk is a new class from the Complete Psionic, a great book that is definitely worth picking up if you are a fan- and why wouldn't you be?- of 3.5 Psionics.) And yeah, I know what you are gonna say- "A NON-EVIL ASSASSIN?!!!!!DHSUsj8w7d1928!1oneoneone HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE?!!?" Well, it is. Adjust accordingly.
Good for a party, but they don't get much done.
Hermetics are very much Harry potter, even tho they call their magic the Arts, they treat it very much like science, training for years and years thro apprenticship and following spell ingredianets and directions.
I forgot to mentions a group that was used alot but wasn't a mystic tradition.
The hollow ones. Goth magic, tho it traces its roots to flapper days of the 20's, with seances and stuff. I hated them.
Can NPC's develop their backstories?
Avvy from Le Gambit
Extendo-Sliver
Master of Death and Taxes
You really can't get away.
I've tried.
I actually am intrigued by the magical activities of the 20s. During the 20s, dabbling in the occult became a popular hobby for the wealthy and indulgent, picking up on the remnants of the age of secret societies from the early 1900s. I always found it very interesting, if not a bit reckless. I wouldn't call them "hollow", as they have very sound bases in magical tradition, but the practice of it was commonly done for a lot of the wrong reasons. Of course, that's just from an occult standpoint, it could be presented very differently in the game proper.
And yes, anyone can feel free to participate in this contest, members or NPCs alike.
"Hippie" magic sounds a lot like the concept of chaos magic, which became popular in the 70s, and involved a fusion of new age philosophy, a melange of magical traditions from the world over, and a heavy interest in death and sex, in particular.
Icarii are basicly Winged humans. They can sing very well, and with this music comes the Icarii magic. This magic comes from the star dance. Icarii can see very far in the dark and light and are aware even before birth. They have a natural ability to speak with other humanoids with their minds. Tje "mind voice" is closely linked to the star dance. Some Icarii have the rare talent to listen to the discord of the Star dance, these Icarii can do evil things with the music.
A sudden awareness. Floating in an abbysal state of confusion the young child awoke. She could think, for all Icarii babys could think. She could feel, yet all feeling was weak and numb. She knew she was safe yet didn't know how for she was lost in they darkness.
She reached out with her senses and felt another. This being was very close, she reached out and could feel it. It was alive and it reached back.
who are you?
I do not know a voice sang back. Are you lost too?
I am. Yet I feel safe
A third voice entered the minds of these children You are awake. The voice sang.
Who are you?
I am your mother.
The three of them spent the rest of that day talking. The talked about the world, about life, and about death. About destany and about choices. Her father came home late that night. There was movement and a sudden stop, The young child could feel another presence now. Her father. Who are you? She asked the new person
Why, your father of course. Her dad laughed and touched her mind.
The rest of the night her father sang to his children, teaching them songs of power and about the star dance.
Her life was perfect.
Weeks went by for her, the void was getting smaller and it was getting harder for her to move. Her mother never explaned what this meant.
One day her mother was outside walking in the woods. She had explaned this to her and her sibling before they left. It was almost night when her mother started to go into labor.
Noone was around, or so they thought.
Her mother was attacked, by who she doesn't know. But her mother died there in the woods and the void started to get cold.
Her last thoughts were that of mortal terror.
She died.
A familiar feeling came to the young child. It was a feeling of awareness. Life. How? She screamed with her mind, yet there was no answer. She opened her eyes for the first time to see the face of a wolf. It looked down on her with pity, she was covered in blood.
"Oh my gods" a voice cried from above the wolf. "She is alive"
It was her father.
He wiped off the blood from her and brought her back to the house.
"Feenix" He said. "your name is Feenix"
Feenix spent the next few years without the luxery of wings. She learnt more of the star dance and sang well with her dad.
When she was 12 she started to go out alone, her wings were developed and she wanted to explore Delvenport. The forests were inviting to her, she spent alot of her time there playing with creatures of the wild.
This was the time she discovered her talent. Feenix coudl speak to animals.
Most creatures in the wood were friendly to a humanoid that could speak to them. She spent most of her time in the forest philosophising with Eagles, Chatting with Raccoons, and flying with the birds. Each jaunt through the wood she would get farther and farther away from home.
One day she got lost. She was in a part of the forest about 16 miles northwest of Delvenport, or so she thought. She fell through a hole in the forest floor into a strange room, it was a cave, yet it was made by someone, or something. It looked as if it had been abbandoned or lost. In the center of what looked like a gigantic nest was an emerald Egg.
Help me...
The voice sounded desperate
Anyone? Please!
It was growing frantic
She went up to it and picked it up Don't worry, Im here for you. she said to the strange egg.
The voice went away and the egg felt calm. Feenix tucked it into her sack and flew back to the surface. She was still lost but now had a companion to journy with. A dragon companion.
She never did make it back home that night. She spent this one with the forest and kept moving to the northeast. She would spend a few weeks in a town and move on. Icarii usually wernt that welcome so she would have to cover her wings at times. It was a few years later that Feenix and her dragon friend came upon the city of Solgard.
thanks DarkNightCavalier for the sig!
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just cause I do things backwards
yeah that hippie magic seems like that, except not much focus on death ( acouple other groups did that a bit too much)
The Hollow One's actually took there name (as much as a group that isn't a group can have a name) from part of a poem by Lord Byron, or someone else who was influencial then. Their magical tradition is actually well established.
Hermetics: I used Harry Potter as an example, but its a poor one. The rest of the groups view this group as the old merlins, and in truth there agenda is bringing back the High Mythic ages. The creator (white wolf) did a hell of a lot of research for all their stuff, including this one. In comparing the information presented there with my own research, I was surprised with how it matched up. Of course you could see where they chaged things for the game, and the system. Each of the guide books had a set of references in the back of where WW based alot of their info on.
From the time he was a child, the villagers knew something just wasn't right about that boy. Sometimes he would be in a corner, out of the way, as he felt wall or other obstructions comforting. Other days he would stand between two trees or at the end of a one person bridge. Usually repeating the same gibberish for hours. Something about doorways held a particular facination with the boy. After three days of no customers, Yukora, Town Armor Shop owner, put him in a potato sack and loaded him onto the next wagon to another town. And such the adventures of In the way Guy started, added by helpful villagers who keep sending him to new towns and other places.
Avvy from Le Gambit
Extendo-Sliver
Master of Death and Taxes
You really can't get away.
I've tried.
thanks DarkNightCavalier for the sig!
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On backstories: In the way Guy FTW! LMAO
That's awesome.
Alacar: It's interesting to see the history behind the character after all this time.
Feenix: What sort of setting is this character used in, out of curiousity?
BTW, what do you guys think of Rose?
Edit: Shino Tenshi became a "talking broom".
thanks DarkNightCavalier for the sig!
My Trade Thread
Ah, okay. Remember to state what the setting/game is for your character, so we have a point of reference.
So, am I reading correctly- is she telepathic?
Edit: Ah okay. Missed that part in the intro. Sorry.
thanks DarkNightCavalier for the sig!
My Trade Thread
And Alacar's statistics:
Well, it's hard to put Alacar at a certain level. It's been so long since I've used him, I was playing 2nd edition AD&D. So I remade him, using my favorite prestige class.
Alacar Leoricar
Male Chaotic Good Half-Elf Age 24
Height 5'10" Weight 170
Eyes Jade Hair Black Skin Caucasian
Deity Tymora (Lady Luck)
STR 14
DEX 16
CON 12
INT 18
WIS 11
CHA 14
Fighter 2/Wizard 4/Spellsword 6
3rd-6th Wizard
7th-12th Spellsword
That's how he'll advance, so I can easily modify him to fit up to a 12th level campaign/adventure.
Mithral Chain Shirt: Due to his Spellsword class, he can ignore the spell failure checks up to 20%.
Skills: Alacar prefers to start off by using ranged spells like Magic Missile and Lightning Bolt, which he has taken the feat Spell Mastery on. Then he goes in close combat with his sword, which is channeled with a Hold Person spell. The spell is charged into his weapon, and is cast on a successful hit.
Like freeform roleplaying? Try Darkness Befalls Us
Ryttare Kelasin Luna Orelinalei
Also, I want to try playing as either an evoker or a cleric in AD&D 3.0. How would I go along doing that, as usually I play as a tank.
an unnatural love towardsperfectly reasonable respect for Lightning Bolt.The Kiwi third of The Salt Mine Podcast: An Australian Legacy Podcast
Case in point: about 45 minutes ago, I somehow managed to spill some water on the mouse-pad. I mopped it up for the most part, and the mouse didn't seem to get wet, and none of it got on the keyboard or any wiring. But when I tried moving the mouse around after I'd wiped it, to see if it still worked, I guess I accidently got some water inside it, and it stopped working.
So, after spending almost half an hour messing with it, I went and got an older mouse of ours and hooked it up, and it's working fine now. It just hocks me off. I'm so sick of annoying little things like this happening, little things that build up, and they always seem to be my fault.
Anyway, I know that's not RPG related, just venting.
All that I yearn for, for richer or poorer, is to be the peace that you feel.
All that I yearn for, for richer or poorer, is to fill your heart on my own.
Gaymers | Magic Coffeehouse | Little Jar of Mamelon | Natural 20
Yoshemi Moto
Yoshemi was a young girl of six years. She lived with her father, Murakami of the White Guard. He was a quiet and sad man, but he loved Yoshemi greatly and did the best for her that he could. She, like all Moto Children, grew acustom to her fathers frighting, ghostly armor and she studied long and hard to learn of the history of her family. And their dishonour.
She, like all Moto children, grew to accept this.
Yoshemi and her father lived on the fronteer, near the shadowlands. Her father was a watchman, constantly keeping guard against the evil of that fel place. One day, like many before it, he was called into battle; to defend the empire yet again against Fu Lengs advances.
Only this time, he never came back. She waited in the house, crying to herself. She spent hours gazing out of her small cottages lone window and watched the cycle of the sun and moon several times. You see, the one lesson that her father was most strict about was his insistance that she remain indoors when he was away on a mission. "The dark demons of the shadowlands are everywhere", he would say, "even if you cannot see them".
Eventually though, she could contain herself no longer. She was hungry, weary and exausted from crying. She left her house. And began walking.
For several days she walked. Picking grasses and herbs she had learned were edible and drinking occasionally from the cold mountain streams. Yoshemi was but a child though, and eventually sucummed to exaustion and sorrow.
The warm nuzzling of a bristly nose roused her from sleep. She glanced up to see the most magestic horse she had ever seen, his eyes burning with intelegence and concern. It seemed the most natural thing to climb onto his back when he lowered himself to the ground. For several hours the horse ran on. With grim determination and dirrection no one would ever expect from a simple steed.
The horse ran long and hard into the lowlands, beautifull lands of lush green and flora that Yoshemi had only heard stories of. She was facinated and somehow pushed all of her sadness deep inside of her. Then there was a village in the clearing, and several powerfull looking women in red armor rose to attention at the approach of horse and rider. "Are these truly the Otaku?" Yoshemi thought.
Well, This is getting quite long. I want to cut it short. I actually have a short story telling Yoshemi's tale but try to shorten it...
Basically, the Otaku Battle maidens are bonded to thier mounts. Whenever one of the Battle maidens is growing old and near death.. she goes out on one last ride. Usually this takes several days, and then more often than not, her mount will return back to thier home.
This moment is always seen as a prophetic one, and it is up to the Otaku elders to determine it's meaning. Well the horse that Yoshemi rode in on was formerly the mount of a elder battle maiden, and when the other battle maidens saw him return with a child on his back, they saw it as a great sign; that this young girl was to be raised as a one of their own.
There was some concern though, as they soon found out that she was from the cursed Moto family, but on this subject, the eldest of the Otaku was adament.
Yoshemi was to be a Battle Maiden.
Yoshemi is now a full grown woman, and a valuable and honored member of the Otaku, but she secretly still considers herself a Moto. She sees it as her job to bring honor to the Moto family. She realizes that she is in a very rare and precious possition and she is determined to make the best of it.
Yoshemi is stubborn in one aspect though. She refuses to wear the traditional battlemaiden armor, prefering to wear ghostly armor fashioned in the style of her fathers.. Many Otaku frown on this, but others accept this eccentricity in an otherwise outstanding friend and comrade.