A Monster for Every Season: Summer 2
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  1. - Top - End - #1
    Titan in the Playground
    BelGareth's Avatar

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    Nov 2008

    Default Character Graveyard

    Character Graveyard

    I've had this idea for a while now, for a place for characters that you either liked, or thought had a good concept, either mechanically or fluff wise, that didn't make it into a game.

    This is where those characters go, this is where they go to die.

    The character graveyard.

    Feel free to post any character that didn't make it into a game, put the characters info here, fluff, crunch, pic, whatever, as most of us will delete the mythweavers sheet.

    I'll start.
    "I have a high art; I hurt with cruelty those who would damage me." -Archilochus

    Bel's Compendium
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    Epic items of interest
    Sir cowabunga of clubs

    “Take but degree away, untune that string, And, hark, what discord follows!” -Shakespeare

    “Gnyðja mundu nú grísir, ef þeir vissi, hvat inn gamli þyldi”
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  2. - Top - End - #2
    Titan in the Playground
    BelGareth's Avatar

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    Nov 2008

    Default Re: Character Graveyard

    I lay thee to rest....

    Stane, Possessed of Astaroth
    M NE Human (native outsider, elemental) see notes, Level 24, Init +13, HP 291/291, DR 10/Magic or Adamantium, Speed 50 ft., 60 ft. (good)
    AC 43, Touch 30, Flat-footed 36, Fort +29, Ref +28, Will +25, Base Attack Bonus +16/+11/+6/+1
    Burn Reflex DC 27 2 Slams +18 / +18 (1d6+1d6 fire/vile, x2)
    Ranged spell +26 ( , )
    Amons breath (DC 33 Ref for half) 50 ft. line (24d6 fire/vile, )
    +2 spell pen, pearl of power 9th, swift heal sacrificing spell level * 5 hp's. Vest of the Archmagi (+8 Armor, +7 Dex, +5 Natural, +5 Deflect, +8 Misc)
    Abilities Str 10, Dex 24, Con 24, Int 22, Wis 16, Cha 34
    Condition Immunity to fear, energy drain, negative levels, sleep, paralysis, poison, and fire.
    slippery mind
    Mind blank
    Fast healing 3
    Human Sorcerer (Metamagic Specialist) 8 / Elemental Savant (fire) 10/Halruaan Elder 6

    Spoiler: Pic

    Spoiler: Fluff

    Stane's story is one of tragedy, one of hope and loss. He is the soul bargained with demons and lost, the colloquial example to all those who would, or mean to.

    I won't bore you with his child hood, such nonsense is melodramatic anyway, and only servers to fluff up the main story, no, Stanes story begins when he was a pupil to the great Ashkaban Summoner, the binder of the Silver way.

    He had been his apprentice for only a year, and it was a hard apprenticeship, he was always working, cleaning, cooking, picking things up, but this day was the day he had worked for all these months, he was going to begin learning the art of summoning!

    His master an old man of legend, any around here say they haven't heard of him are either crazy, stupid, or foreign. He was the man who stopped the Therazix, the shadow demon from destroying the town, and we thanked him, made him into a hero, it ruined him though. He took to the hero way of life and settled here, staying within comfort and loosing his edge, he was no more an old man with secrets to give than a hero when Stane found him.

    Back to the story at hand, it was on the first day of the second year of his apprenticeship, Stane was aware of this, he was also aware that his master liked things to be round, whole numbers, and so he guesses this was the day.

    He was right, his master had him step into the summoning chamber, and upon the floor was a circle with a motif, as instructed, he watched in wonder as the Master went about his business of summoning a power from beyond the veil, he watched and noted his arm movements, his words, the inflections and timbre...

    His first attempt had him bind Amon, The Void Before the Altar, giant horns grew upon his head and he laughed in joy as flames came bursting forth from his mouth...

    This was only the beginning, but a beginning nonetheless. Years later would find Stane as the resident town protector, taking over the binder of the Silver way from the old man when he died. He was a good man, he demonstrated not an ability to summon vestiges to his bidding, but an affinity to fire, he was able to call upon the spirits and defend this strip of home from all evil witches and warlocks.

    For a time, the Silver way knew peace.

    And then he found the tome, no one recalled where he did, or how. But it changed things, changed things for everyone.

    He looked into this tome and found Astaroth, and Astaroth was waiting for him, binding the newly found vestige, he felt the power of the destroyed demon lord, but something changed, something within him snapped.

    It wasn't a week till someone found the smoking ruins of the Silver way, every building, every post, every fence was a charred ruin, people burned alive in the streets lay as they were, blackened flesh, burnt bones.

    Astaroth had been waiting for him, had snapped the fragile psyche like a twig, like only a Demon lord can, he was waiting for him so he could control him, reaching from the grave he manipulated the effects of the bind, making Stane almost a puppet under his actions. He was once again present among existence!

    As time passed, Stane came to grips with his new situation, his mind mending from the fragments that remained, he managed to control Astaroth for the time being, only slipping during times of duress, anger...but even still, he had to compete with the mind of the Demon Lord, his own guilt at killing all those people and losing his life to this....thing...

    He traveled, he traveled and traveled, moving from one place to another, never knowing people, never loving, never staying too long. He eventually overcame Astaroth in a battle of wills, he now controls him, but he is still to strong to push from his mind, however, he is capable of controlling his actions, sans the occasional outburst. He started to look for people who could help him, remove the stain that was the vestige from his mind, all he found where perplexed creatures, "this shouldn't be" he heard as he moved on.

    Roxanne the unknown scion of King Azoun IV

    Female CG Human Bard 4/Warblade 2/Bard 6, Level 12, Init +4, HP 96/96, Speed
    AC 22, Touch 15, Flat-footed 18, Fort +9, Ref +16, Will +16, Base Attack Bonus 9/4
    Crystal Echoblade (+5 sonic when using bardic music) +14/+9 (1d8+1, 19-20/x2)
    +3 Mithral chain shirt (+7 Armor, +4 Dex, +1 Deflect)
    Abilities Str 10, Dex 18, Con 12, Int 16, Wis 10, Cha 22
    Condition Uncanny dodge

    Spoiler: Pic

    Spoiler: Fluff

    Roxanne is a bastard child of the king, Azoun IV.

    No one knows this of course, Roxanne has held it to her like a liferaft in open waters, she will never tell anyone....or so she thought, she had always liked the baby king, he felt good to her, you know the idea of him being a king, and her half brother, it felt...right.

    Not when she heard he had been killed, murdered, who kills a babe? who does that? she broke down and cried where she was, her shipmates knowing better to cajole her, they left her alone, not knowing the true reason why, she was connected to him, this babe king who had his life snuffed like a candle in the wind.

    She was aboard the Merry Mermaid, a good cargo ship, she had served for several years, and happened to be in port when the civil war erupted, closing the port and landlocking the crew, she saw it as a sign, she left the services of the crew and moved out to support the loyalists as best she can, those who had hurt her half brother would pay.

    Years before, when she was born, it was by some unknown house servant to the King, a very comely woman, green eyes and luscious red hair, she was born in some poor neighborhood and taken away, so nothing could hurt her. When she came of age, her mother told her the truth, being the angry young woman she was, she left her mother's side, who was dying and fled to the docks boarding the 1st ship that would take her on as a crewmate. She served on a myriad of ships, excelling as a morale officer and even commanding troops. She has done her fair share of piracy and bears the mark on her right hand, a reason why she always covers them with her excellent gloves.

    So now she was in the service of the loyalists, doing her hardest to give it to the upstart rebels, she was at first laughingly taken in, directed to menial tasks, singing in music halls and the like, but when she proved she could actually fight, and lead troops, better than most, she was utilized, regardless of how people felt about the way she looked.

    She was there at the The Battle of Lost Brothers, only barely surviving and helping the Purple knights from the ravaging Wild magic, luck would have her survive that battle, and she thanks Lathander for it, for the massacre it was, could have taken her life just as easily...
    Last edited by BelGareth; 2013-11-15 at 02:24 AM.
    "I have a high art; I hurt with cruelty those who would damage me." -Archilochus

    Bel's Compendium
    Homebrew sig
    Epic items of interest
    Sir cowabunga of clubs

    “Take but degree away, untune that string, And, hark, what discord follows!” -Shakespeare

    “Gnyðja mundu nú grísir, ef þeir vissi, hvat inn gamli þyldi”
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  3. - Top - End - #3
    Bugbear in the Playground
    Sir Chuckles's Avatar

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    Oct 2013

    Default Re: Character Graveyard

    I have a fat red folder in my filing cabinet with 27 character sheets, 18 of which never made it into a game.
    5 are my player's sheets, four of which are dead and one that was never used.
    2 are from campaigns that petered out.
    1 died, was brought back but due to storyline replaced one of the ones above.
    The last one is the character from the only campaign that I ever finished and was a player (I have a separate, bigger folder of the BBEGs I've written for various campaigns were I was the DM. Mostly torn-out notebook pages, but a dragon or two on a solid sheet).

    Forgive me for not posting them all
    Currently Playing:

  4. - Top - End - #4
    Titan in the Playground
    BelGareth's Avatar

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    Nov 2008

    Default Re: Character Graveyard

    Quote Originally Posted by Sir Chuckles View Post
    I have a fat red folder in my filing cabinet with 27 character sheets, 18 of which never made it into a game.
    5 are my player's sheets, four of which are dead and one that was never used.
    2 are from campaigns that petered out.
    1 died, was brought back but due to storyline replaced one of the ones above.
    The last one is the character from the only campaign that I ever finished and was a player (I have a separate, bigger folder of the BBEGs I've written for various campaigns were I was the DM. Mostly torn-out notebook pages, but a dragon or two on a solid sheet).

    Forgive me for not posting them all

    That's quite the amount of characters there, assuming most are non PbP?
    "I have a high art; I hurt with cruelty those who would damage me." -Archilochus

    Bel's Compendium
    Homebrew sig
    Epic items of interest
    Sir cowabunga of clubs

    “Take but degree away, untune that string, And, hark, what discord follows!” -Shakespeare

    “Gnyðja mundu nú grísir, ef þeir vissi, hvat inn gamli þyldi”
    Threat, Timer, Treat

  5. - Top - End - #5
    Dwarf in the Playground
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    Mar 2012

    Default Re: Character Graveyard

    Oh boy, I've got a metric tonne of characters that were in campaigns which up and died. But as for ones that never made it into a game to begin with? Hmm.

    Salbad the Blade, Human Cleric of Kord
    A high level cleric of the warrior god, this man was strength incarnate. Dual-wielding greatswords, he would wade into combat while enhanced with numerous divine blessings. He was to join a party that would be seeking to rid a mountain kingdom from the threat of a clan of frost giants. Alas, the game never launched, and his sheet gathered dust, story untold and unrefined.

    A child raised in a horrid orphanage with his two siblings; An outcast among his peers for his distant heritage; The young student of Mr. MacAbee; Daemonhost. Louis was many things, most shared with the other two starting characters. His world was one steeped in powerful omnipresent myths-***-reality, and was in fact at the center of one such legend. Caught in a feud between two epic level casters and acting prison for an apocalyptic entity, this young man was set to be one of the greats.

    Too bad one of things he also ended up being was an NPC.

    An off month forced me to miss three consecutive sessions, and in the interest of the group itself, the plot marched on. Louis was wrenched from my grasp in that time by one of the duo which fought over our fate, William the Black, and became his psionic cohort in later years. The party would fight him on occasion, and eventually go on to kill him. He did in this way get his story, but I still wonder what could have been had I been the one to steer his fate.
    Using Iron Heart surge, I save against fiat. Succeeding that, I am now the DM. For my first act, I am banning the Tome of Battle. Any questions?

  6. - Top - End - #6
    Dwarf in the Playground

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    North Swansea

    Default Re: Character Graveyard

    The tale of Duke Weevil.

    The Duke was a blind oracle of Juju. The campaign world was in the first 100 years or so post-tippy-verse explosion. The new world completely lacked intelligent undead yet. Most undead had the contagious sort of thing going on. The Duke had a near death experience, and was terrified of both death and the undead. He was a necromancer though. He raised dead and commanded them to do his bidding. He did everything he could to stay out of combat. He was compulsive and nervous and every 30 seconds or so you could catch him whispering a prayer or making a sign of protection against bad juju. (constantly recasting the orison: resistance and guidance). He manipulated others and overall kept his distance while researching the dead, and ways to protect against death and undeath.

    His closest ally was a boggle (goblin variant that are good at tinkering but go mad at an early age) who was attempting to find a preventative measure for his madness. In the process he figured out some nice craft skills, and The Duke joined him. As his defenses increased, he got comfortable with create undead and eventually began the first chain of wight command. He still vastly distrusted them and found the ultimate protection against their betrayal.

    With his boggle friend's help, he was able to craft a vessel that he could store his life in so that if an undead turned on him it would do nothing. Further, if he were killed, he could return. He was completely safe from the undead, and free from the threat of his mind being overtaken, and his body misused for others' intentions as he had mistreated his own undead. The fact that he was "undead" never occurred to him. He was this world's first lich.

    At least that was the plan...

    May he unrest in carefully planned safety.
    Last edited by Perturbulent; 2013-11-15 at 02:57 PM.

  7. - Top - End - #7
    Bugbear in the Playground
    Sir Chuckles's Avatar

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    Default Re: Character Graveyard

    Quote Originally Posted by BelGareth View Post

    That's quite the amount of characters there, assuming most are non PbP?
    The only campaign I've done that wasn't in person is the guy in my sig.
    The campaign is winding down, but the DM has been giving every single enemy Mage Slayer, energy resistance, extra levels, and occasionally levels in Occult Slayer. Even if it made no sense.
    He's also attacking me relentlessly, even when the Rogue is doing sneak attack damage on the guy.

    So might have to add good 'ol Brüntak to here!
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  8. - Top - End - #8
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    drack's Avatar

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    Nov 2006
    warming your deathbed

    Default Re: Character Graveyard

    Well if you insist...

    Little princess

    The Land of Rainbows (,faeries, pixie-dust, and unicorns)
    The Land of Rainbows



    The Land of Rainbows was created by a great conquer long past. The Land of Rainbows is probably best known for it's beautiful women, and handsome men, as well as their astounding innate aptitude in all fields of magic.

    "What is it to be a mage?" A common question, and one to which a famous Land of rainbows philosopher replied. Magecraft is not the ability to move mountains or flood valleys, but to elegantly dance one's fingers through the fine strings of fate spinning beautiful lace that all others may adore for all eternity. Bending the stars, the earth, and the vary gods themselves into their weave, and in this doing more then any petty second rate sorcerer could do.

    This theory seems to be all too well supported as even in the defenses of the city the sheer elegance of it. Ten thousand prismic spheres larger than life wrap around the city fitted together so perfectly that the wall it's self is naught but a foot thick. Naturally every house is coated in various runes, and most of them are even invented by the residents as the entire city is filled with powerful magi.

    Since before anyone could remember any with the slightest physical deformity were killed at birth leading to the charismatic resents seen today, as is the case with any of weaker or ugly magics.

    Law and Order

    Unsurprisingly there is little need for any enforcement of any of the extensive legal code, but when it happens that an "unclean element" needs to vanish the whole of the nation bands together driving out the impurity


    The Land of Rainbows sits at the end of civilized lands easily holding off the hordes from beyond Brokeman's Pass (the largest mountain pass in the world leading to the outer-lands), and as such they do not fall upon any major trade routs. All the same there are public gate keys assessable to all citizens allowing them free travel an transportation anywhere across the world, and as such when a merchant from the Land of Rainbows is in town they will likely buy the whole of what other merchants offer instantly transporting it across the world for resale. This coupled with their highly prized spellcasting services sustains the Land of Rainbows is lavished luxury.


    Citizens of The Land of Rainbows know better than to believe any god is worth their notice, as the city had repeatedly outdone gods in their great magical wonders. In fact not a single member could be caught unable to tell you of one such miracle they had personally witnessed or participated in the working of.


    The first such wonder was when a mage by the name of Gartroth Yennew invented the Magic Fountain. Unfortunately he perished before he could tell anyone how it functioned. The device its self allowed countless magi to pour their magical energies into it over extensive periods of time. All the power granted would take shape through a single wish spell cast by the city through a special ritual, allowing each and every one of them influence over how the spell would unfold. This allowed far more control over the unimaginably massive flows of magic which they would all carefully weave together making the countless miracles of the Land of Rainbows.

    The Princess and the Peeler

    The Little Angel who Bleeds.

    The Birth of an Angel

    Long ago in the Land of Rainbows a young girl was born. A beautiful young girl even by the high standards of the Land of Rainbows with pale skin overflowing with the rosy flush of life, and golden hair that may have passed as a crown. As is procedure dictates the Little Angel's parents took her to be examined for deformity, and to test her magical aptitude. The child was flawless, and within her veins pulsed arcane energies that could easily earn her a respectable position as a pillar of the community.

    The Magic of an Angel

    For years she grew and grew. At age three she learned to walk, and by age five her laugh could cure anydisease of the heart. Soon it came time for her to enroll in the academy and begin learning magic.

    In preparation for her entrance into the academy her father took her to a sturdy room and asked her to show him her magic. Reaching deep within herself the Little Angel focused, and as she did fine droplets of blood began forming on her outstretched hand, and as they did her father felt not the strands that a child moves, but the tides of magic controlled by a full fledged sorcerer begin to shift, twirling until the magic took form.

    A Terrifying Choice

    Horrified the Little Angel's father began thinking, his face an impenetrable mask hiding his worry. Such magic may be powerful, but it was unclean, and all of his teachings had taught him to exercise such stains before they grow. It was then that the child did, as powerful a force as any is the world of magic. She smiled, and with those rosy red little lips she asked "Did I do good daddy? Did I? Did I?"

    A Choice to End it All

    Instantly the father made a decision that would end his life. With his Little Angel smiling up at him with those big hopeful eyes he allowed the hand that could have called the whole of the village down on them to instead fall and rustle his angle's silky smooth hair.

    The cogs in his head turning he replied "Yes, yes my angel, you did wonderful. But how about we try something else?"

    A normal childhood.

    For the next ten years the Little Angel grew up, living a life that by all rights should have been denied to her, and for the whole of her time in the academy she used her father's magic to pass on as normal. Using simple magical devices in place of her true talent.

    A Lonesome Life

    An Angel's Thoughts on Life

    Living Alone


    The Little angel lived a solitary life in the academy, unable to practice her own magic, and unable to allow anyone close enough to see it wasn't hers the little Angel turned towards books. no, not the books of magic that everyone else read. No, the Little Angel would have been of the strongest in the Land of Rainbows even without such books, and yet unable to use her own magic they would not aid her. Instead she took books by the tens of Philosophies, Regions, and Psychology, and in her room read them all, allowing the endless pool of thought within her head to swirl and build.

    The Dangers of Thoughts


    As the thoughts piled and built atop each other they gave birth to ideas, and understanding of the world. Slowly but surely she became resolved that the Land of Rainbows was wrong. That killing off those who are different, while efficient, suppresses innumerable talents that may have blossomed into beautiful flowers in their own right. And furthermore that many of them were beautiful in a way unrelated to the ideals of her homeland.

    Plans and Plots


    Once again the Little Angel rolled over in her bed. The complexities of running a multi-planer superpower had become clear to her, and the endless morals and ethics that tie it all together were no longer pounding in her mind, replaced by solutions. Never would the people of her homeland decide to obey he beliefs unless she proved her magic flawless, and as she was bringing attention to her magic would only bring death. Seeding the idea would never hold as any she talked to could call the whole nation down on her head, and the nation being a Perfect Democracy it would be impossible to strong-arm it into anything. Eventually she found one plan that may work. A way to save it all.

    A Model Citizen


    After graduating the academy The Little Angel became as close to a delinquent as society would permit without termination. Soon she had a whole gang of sorts of followers ready to help her enact he ideas, and soon The Land of Rainbows fell. While they had always been prepared for any number of attacks from without, preparing for every contingencies they had failed to consider one possibility. Sabotage from within their perfect community. In their arrogance they had again begun working a miracle to outdo the acts of a god. As they did Fifty among their order twisted the weave allowing the gods themselves to interfere, and that night the skies around the world dances with lights as the most powerful nation of magi to ever exist fought with the gods over a power stronger then them both. The gods clearly had an upper hand from the start, and when the skies finally grew dark the gods and rebels had destroyed the city leaving naught but runes of all the achievements of the Land of Rainbows.

    Together the ten mortal survives of the duel stood exhausted, and victorious, and while they may not have known it at the time they had shifted the scales of power that day in a way none had imagined possible.

    The Ascension of Angels


    Over the following years the Little angel striving to save all those cursed and ridiculed throughout the world, building her own inter-planer metropolis. Slowly at first, but then all at once a nation formed in the mountain passes beside the ruins of the Land of Rainbows.

    An Uncouth Land

    Nation of Undesired Magic

    "Give us your poor rejected failures, your ostracized monsters and your most deformed children. Give us the scum off your streets and the broken cobblestones too. Then wait... Wait and see what becomes of the monsters in the shadow once they step into the light."





    The primary city was carved out of the earth by the powers of Crimson Angela, though as people began to arrive in larger and larger droves they began setting up od little patches of dwellings woven into the pass, and most citizens only enter the city first in order to enter their new life before being sent off to a mountain home.

    A Home


    Home is not always the nicest place, but instead it is a place where one lives and is safe from both detection and mobs.

    Underbelly of the City

    Not all of the city is clean and perfect, in fact the vast majority of the city is filth ridden and filled with creatures that nobody knows much what they are, that have chosen to stay and live in the city. The nicer areas are for those first arriving to rest and recover from their journey before they are sent to their new homes.

    National bird



    wiki excerpt:
    In natural settings, the Black Vulture eats mainly carrion. In areas populated by humans, it may scavenge at garbage dumps, but also takes eggs and decomposing plant material and can kill or injure newborn or incapacitated mammals. Like other vultures, it plays an important role in the ecosystem by disposing of carrion which would otherwise be a breeding ground for disease. The Black Vulture locates food either by sight or by following New World Vultures of the genus Cathartes to carcasses. These vultures—the Turkey Vulture, the Lesser Yellow-headed Vulture, and the Greater Yellow-headed Vulture— forage by smell, an ability which is uncommon in the avian world. They fly low to the ground to pick up the scent of ethyl mercaptan, a gas produced by the beginnings of decay in dead animals. Their heightened ability to detect odors allows them to search for carrion below the forest canopy. King Vultures and Black Vultures, which lack the ability to smell carrion, follow them to carcasses. It is aggressive when feeding, and may chase the slightly larger Turkey Vulture from carcasses.

    The Black Vulture also occasionally feeds on livestock or deer. It is the only species of New World vulture which preys on cattle. It occasionally harasses cows which are giving birth, but primarily preys on newborn calves. In its first few weeks, a calf will allow vultures to approach it. The vultures swarm the calf in a group, then peck at the calf's eyes, or at the nose or the tongue. The calf then goes into shock and is killed by the vultures

    more on the city




    The Nation of Undesired Magic has little trade with the outside world. While many rare herbs are collected, the Nation of Undesired Magic monopolizes on fear, for it is a nation born of fear. Fear turns to anger, and anger to hate, and hate is what drove most of the citizens of the Nation of Undesired Magic from their homes. As such that anger ha returned to fear as all the monsters of the world pooled into one singular mountain range.

    At first some were revealed, the horrors finally off in someone else's closet, and under their bed, but soon something unimaginable happened. Rather than tearing each other apart the monsters banded together forming a horrid new political influence in the world. No longer would a town worry of a troll wandering through their village and stealing their children, but instead their nightmares would be plagued with countless horrors pouring out through every crack and cranny overrunning them as a whole, and consuming everything. Before long the Nation of Undesired Magic began receiving "donations" from various nations across the world to keep the monsters appeased with their mountain range.

    Unsupprisingly the Nation of Undesired Magic is known as having one of the largest functioning militias as all of it's citizens defense their homes and lands with nothing else to loose. Furthermore a rumor has begun circulating that the Nation of Undesired Magic has constructed an impenetrable fortress as if hundreds of enclaves over a pass leading to the unknown horrors of another world wasn't enough.

    The Law


    Within the Nation of Undesired Magic the laws are different from the rest of the world. There are many acts which warrant death, and anyone in a particularly bloodthirsty mood is authorized to enforce them. As such there are not many "incidents", and when there are they are "contained"



    While the populace of the Land or Undesired Magic is perhaps the most racially varied across the world with cultures from all of it's corners, there are not many humans or dwarves, and no elves or dragons. The purer races in general steer clear of the lands, for entering without belonging warrants a death that all the inhabitants of the land would willingly bring you.



    There are three primary methods thorough which beings are accepted into the Nation of Undesired Magic. The first is that They travel to it seeking shelter, and are intercepted in the forest at the base of the pass at which they are processed and sent to the city to be housed. The second method is for a diplomat to Find them and bring them to the forest. The third method is for a separate government to enact a "Relocation program" by which they send all monstrous populace to the forest.



    While there are few laws in this land there are people in charge of representing the populace to the outside world (diplomats), someone in charge of leading and orchestrating the nation (a dictator of sorts), those in charge of keeping the entry process running smoothly (maintenance workers), and finally the military (yup, militia).

    While The Nation of Undesired Magic is not in many regards a proper nation it does sport the most powerful militia in the world, as well as manage to shroud it's self in a thick fog of secrecy to match the fog of the mountain passes in which the monsters of the world now reside.

    The horrors beyond the wall


    It has been known for as long as time it's self that a vast and dark land filled with something existed beyond Borkeman's Pass (now known as the Mountains of Monsters or Monster Mountain), but nobody really remembers much. For eons the Land of Rainbows has destroyed anything and everything to slip through to this side of the pass, but who is to say what may emerge now without that protection. The Land of Undesired magic certainly doe little to impede such horrors.

    A Village by the Stream


    Runoff from the mountains eventually group together into a healthy river. On this river a singular town lies near the border of the Land of Undesired Magic. This one area within the whole of the nation in which outsiders are permitted, acts as the center of the global black market. While it is not a black market in the traditional sense the lack of trade laws in the Land of Undesired Magic make it ideal for the sale of otherwise illegal merchandise. Furthermore while the transporter's guild is forbidden from operating within the nation a short hour downstream of the city they are freely permitted to act.



    Many commonly wonder how it is that CANDY so easily traverses all the realities there are to behold. Many have asked him what form of sorcery it is that allows such miracles, and yet every time they are met with various long words from which they generally take away that the spark is fed energy and has something to do with something called a non-linear shift across a dimensional axis whatever that is supposed to mean. Clearly the man misunderstands the gifts of sorcery the gods have given him.

    In any case The mountain folk of Dul-Kashtile were ill at ease as space fractured throughout the village, and it didn't help that the space at the center began to form into dissociating cubeuals before shattering to reveal the odd beings that walked through as if nothing were amiss. A girl who looked to be fleshy lobs held together by naught but black thread leans forwards whispering something into the ear of man at front who is garbed in an odd open ended white robe with pants as dark as night, a shirt as white as the pants were dark below the strange robe. Visible within an emerald greed tie hing loosely from his neck. His hair a ruddy white scattered about and unkempt, yet ever far from his face the man looks about almost as if in a trance holding what appears to be three wine bottles.

    Suddenly turning on his heel he speaks with an abomination behind him. "That Yachulich dragongrass tea was the best I've ever had, and not something with which to wipe your excrement. I swear...!" the last of it was drowned out as the man poured something from one of the bottles into another causing a massive explosion. Slowly the dust swirled and formed fitting into a far larger being before dissipating as a gentile breeze tore through it as if it were truly the simple dust it seemed to be.

    By the time that people began to tear their attention from the odd blast the group had taken a seat at a local pub and had begun speaking of an odd dessert called a "doughnut". Startled by this news the keeper of the establishment eagerly inquired if such a nut truly existed. Why planting one in his yard he would be without need of a baker for all but the winter seasons! Turning at the interruption the small group laughed before entering a vigorous debate as to whether or not a "jelly, cream, or custard filling" as they called them, took away or added to the odd seed. Naturally the villagers were quite frantic to be done with them when they began furthermore to begin speaking of drizzles and icings... By the time they had begun filling the children heads with thoughts of light fluffy glazed goodness the villagers told them that it was time they left. Oddly enough they did one other thing that while less talked about was far more important then anyone would ever know. They chopped down aunt Gretta's sapling.

    Why Gretta was in such a huff! Afterwards they had celebrated claiming to have done it, this great act of heroism that would live on for all eternity. Gretta had angrily broken in on their merrymaking demanding payment for the tree and telling them off for their play at "great heroics" "Heroes? Heroes?! Don't make me laugh you fools!" Tears streaming down her face she had pinned the small man to her house throwing her body weight to hold him, spraying his face with spittle as she bitterly recalled how all her seven daughters had been taken by bandits, and likely after being raped and subjugated to countless cruelties were either sold to slavery, or eaten in the cannibal nations of Gartun. "...and as if that isn't enough my sons, all fools took their blades and chased after the brigands. They were found the next day along a tree, leaving me the wretch who was both fool enough to believe them and weak enough to have let my daughters be taken in the first place. Leaving me alone with nothing but the endless terrors of recollection. And yet upon that tree was a single seed..." As it turns out the sapling was her only memorial to her children, her daughters long gone, and her sons so revenged by scavengers that naught had remained. And all the wile the thin man stood there pinned to the wall with a large grin upon his face as if her pains were nothing, and this the height of fun. When she asked him what it was that was "So goddam hum-erous about her pain" To this it is said he exclaimed "All of it... Life!"

    Never once did anyone consider even the vaguest possibility that in the distant future a small fort would be built in the region to repel raids from the lowlands, and would soon grow to a large fortress with that one young sapling growing to a massive oak upon which the king's daughter's cat Shaggles would often climb only to find himself stuck and in peril. They had never fathomed that in that in the moment of a great attack on the fort Not once did they consider that the princess would turn from the teleportation circle intended to save the royalty for the sake of that cat, and not once had they considered that their distant decedent's would all perish and find slow painful graves as a result of a king's all consuming grief over loosing his only child.

    In the eventual day in which the people were saved hailing their king a savior, the mysterious troop had long since been forgotten by the whole of the world, off to another in which they learned of the great art to stringing haltung bands with glass beads.


    SPANKY (cohort if we're allowed one, otherwise I'll build it into the character mechanics...)

    (trust me you don't want to see the original SPANKY picture... chances are you'll loose all your cookies.


    Carlose Amperstine Nagravodose the Darmagon (fifth lord) of Yuklysdan, Otherwise known as CANDY Was born and raised in a gray skied providence named Yuklysdan in which he was overthrown at the age of two, and ended up on the streets. For all of his life he was kept alive, confined to the town as equal parts hostage and symbol, keeping allying lands from invading and reminding them of their great conquest. All the same CANDY didn't truly care for the throne, he quickly immersed himself in books and by age ten he began collecting laboratory equipment from which he built a lab in a crypt where nobody would bother him, still he would stroll around town such that the villagers could toss scum at him, and brag. He tolerated as he had learned that allowing them pride in that fact would help keep him off the spit. Soon they tired of it and he began showing himself less and less until finally he lived only in his crypt libratory in which he experimented from dawn to dusk. For years and years he researched, and when he finally emerged he found that nearly a century had passed and he had become an old man. He had finally begun to make great progress and required far more than he could ever get through his suppliers, now he roamed around town as a bedraggled old man in a ragged coat crossing town at a break neck pace on moonlit knights purchasing odd chemicals. Soon all the villagers began to fear him, and many no longer remembering their Darmagon began to call him a dark spirit and a madman. Well they were right on one point, and soon on the other as well as one night (or was it day, by than he had lost all care for the world so absorbed in his maddening experiments was he) he finally did it, transcended mortality itself. For the next five centuries he continued his experiments before the villagers finally started a witch hunt. Undaunted CANDY faced the mob taking many blows that would fell a man, loosing limbs, and even his head at one point, but by virtue of his newfound immortality CANDY triumphed and used them for experimentation, raising them all, yet his methods still required the corpse to be freshly deceased. For time untold CANDY experimented in that lab until finally he caught wind of a new form of alchemy called ‘science’ In days he was traveling the world meeting with the greatest minds in the world, passing off some of his lesser discoveries to them in exchange for pertinent information for his newer experiments. Soon the world it’s self was far changed having somehow become round and finite people crowded every corner. He learned the new language and through his research in a fields of physics associated with inter-dimensional travel he began crossing multiverses, he collected knowledge of all sorts of sciences and found new trendy cloths (like a plain white lab coat adapted from the straight jacket which had been the common confinement mechanism for geniuses in one world).

    SPANKY (possible cohort)

    Sarah Patrick Antoinette of the New Kerthan Yamanese (similar to a foundation, or trust in a world in which corporations were essentially countries themselves) otherwise known as SPANKY was once a rather morbid mortician growing up in a family of morticians viewing life as one of those simple things that came a went daily without change. That is until she met CANDY. One day SPANKY was examining an odd corpse when her new assistant stumbled in. CANDY always appeared flustered and confused, but at his heart she knew he loved studying these dead things. She didn’t mind much as they were dead and there was no harm in it, but there was something about that man… He always sounded like such an idiot screwing up terminology, not even remembering the names and functions of various innards, and yet every now and then a half formed thought would slip from his mouth with all the subtly of an Aramninian pit viper and that half formed thought would be… she knew it was genius, know it could revolutionize life it’s self, and yet she could never quite flush out the rest of these thoughts, or even begin to see how any could be applied. One day she left him alone to study one as she went out to an appointment. Along the way she was grabbed and dragged off, hacked into so many pieces that her corpse may never again be so much as identifiable, but the next thing she remembered was that crazy old man was sewing away at her face, smiling as a mad man as he stitched, grabbing pieces seemingly at random and stitching them back on to her. Every now and then he’d inject some oddly colored substance or another into her, but those hands never tired and those eyes never lost that spark. When she discovered what he was, and what he had made her she considered it. Perhaps life had been quick fleeting, and with little meaning... but given the chance to live forever and learn mysteries she had never fathomed, she could step out of that fleeting existence called life and move on to something grander. Something beyond the comprehension of the world it’s self. She begged the man to teach her, and he eagerly accepted considering her one of his finest masterpieces. She had quite a gift for altering the dead ever so slightly before reanimation allowing them greater powers than most of the undead, eventually even CANDY himself favored SPANKY’s creations to his own, leaving him open to studying other venues.

    Warnings that follow them

    Lo ye hold the traveling man
    Tall and dark and haunted he
    Above his bold white snapper jacket
    Hides him his last scrap O’ Shannet

    Lo ye hold the traveling man
    His eyes as fangs, his cloak so worn
    Traveling beyond lands untold
    With everlasting bones so old

    Lo ye hold the traveling man
    Scruple sharp and thread unwinding
    He hunts them all to their last crying
    Than sets them back to their writhing

    Lo ye never behold the traveling man
    Before his unshaking fist
    Lo ye never behold the traveling man
    Or walk his swirling mist.


    May All beware the spinners loom
    For none yet know her darkened groom
    Her scissors snip so fine
    Her thread of that fresh twine

    All beware the spinners loom
    she wears a mask of flesh
    it causes us to frighten
    as her dark threads begin to tighten

    All beware the spinners loom
    Slicked red it is from use
    It’s strings ever dinging
    And ever caught at glancing

    All beware the Spinners loom
    In all its eerie shapes
    All beware the spinner’s loom
    and cover well your napes!

    The Scarlet Clover
    The Tail of the Scarlet Clover


    "Far far up on the hill (though nobody seems to know
    which hill), there lives a mean old witch refereed to all as the
    Scarlet Clover. It is said she existed before time it's self, and that
    she will exist for the rest of it."

    Impatiently the lad prodded the old man "yes, yes, we all
    know that, but why is it that he is called the Red Clover?"

    "Yes, why's she called the Red Clover sir?" the
    young lass half his height asked.
    My how the youngster were impatient these days. "Now
    look, names are not to be flung about, why naming the witch thrace has
    likely already got her eye on us."
    Fidgeting slightly the man
    informs the air "No worries fair madam, I'm sure no harm
    is meant. Please spare us humble folk."
    Feeling his head as
    if to affirm that it was still there the man continued.
    "Now, the name comes from a vary old tale that your
    parents are probably better off not knowing that I told you. Now this
    story starts in a once enchanted woods. No, no, not the enchanted woods
    of faery tales, a dark place filled with aged fine laced with spikes as
    large as a man's hand. Now deep within these woods the foul witch had
    been imprisoned-"

    "Wait, how is the witch already caught?"
    "That's not how stories go silly"
    Indigently the old man adjusted his hat, something he had taken to doing
    when his feathers were ruffled. "Well it is how this
    one goes, now do you want to hear it, or insult the evil witch to her
    face by disbelieving this tail?"

    Silently the children swallowed, trying in vain to look frightfully in
    every direction at once.
    "Yes, now where was I... Oh yes, so long ago the witch
    had been bound to this wood. For you see the witch herself is immortal,
    having long since used her magics to put herself beyond death. Well it
    just so happened that a thousand years later when tale of this witch
    had become scares as feathers on a hair a young prince Ale was on the
    march with his army ridding the world of the stupidest evils the man
    could find. well naturally he decided that the hedges were too prickly,
    so he set his whole army to cutting the thorny vine of witches gate.
    As the vines snapped the ancient druedic magic that held the witch began
    to wane, and slowly the witch and her followers were free. It took
    under an hour for them to kill their rescuers and torch the forest they
    had resided in for so long. Afterwards a long war ensued-"

    "'cuse me sir, but what of the tale of the valiant prince
    Ale, and his heroic yet hopeless battle against the treacherous

    "Honestly kid he was toast the second he came within
    seven leagues of the place, now after the prince was defeated his father
    was enraged and wished the vengeance of every god upon her

    "So he dueled her heroically?"
    "No child, stop interrupting me, the king was too old
    and plump to fight by then. Now, the king went about sacrificing to
    every god he heard a lick of, and gathering armies from across the
    planes so plentiful that they could have matched even the most ancient
    of the dragons. But despite what the king threw, and how much blood
    coated her the witch stayed as firmly rooted to her hill as a field of
    clovers, hardly even stirring in the wind. It is said that she stayed
    on that hill for two hundred year repelling any force that swept towards
    her before one day the hill it's self vanished. Now none know where it
    is that the dreaded witch lives, but one thing can be said for her. If
    ever she is found it will be in a field of red rooted to that spot just
    as firmly as she has stood for the past eight melenia, and that is how
    the Scarlet Clover earned her name."

    Suddenly the lad gave a start as he noticed that his trousers were
    sodden... at the end of that story... at the end of the story...
    something...something had flashed in his mind. No, that
    was no woman, it couldn't be, face hard enough that it couldn't be
    shaped by the hammer of the strongest smith... and that dry red crust
    that coated all but her scarlet eye that starred with the intensity of
    one who would stand back up from her grave magic or no, dress billowing
    in the wind in time to h rapidly speeding heartbeat
    ... even
    recalling it his pants felt wetter, and somehow he didn't feel ashamed
    of that fact.

    Long ago:

    Once long ago lived a girl in an age of war when rivers of blood ran
    where now those of water trickle. That girl grew to be a woman upon the
    battlefield, her hair Thick with blood sweat and grit where girls of
    today grow with combed clean hair. She grew as hard as any blade. She
    needed to be, else she'd be another drop in those rivers. Another
    handful of dirt on the ground. Another soul unable to find rest.
    Eventually it wasn't enough. Reaching an age that few even in these
    modern times of peace reach he was eventually stabbed through the heart.
    Falling into a pool of blood, she thought not of death, not of her
    life's meaning, or of fond memories, but only of one thought pulsed
    through her mind survive.

    A single body stirred amongst the field littered with too many for all
    the cows in the world to eat. The lady of dusk as they would soon call
    her rose from the ground. No, hundreds did not rise, no such medicals
    existed in this cursed realm. The woman walked for months drinking the
    blood and eating the flesh of the dead to survive before eventually she
    tumbled upon a small cult. The cult worshipped one of the elder gods,
    Ob-ad-he-ti, and of them they preached that death was natural, and
    undeath a natural continuation from there. To those of modern belief
    this is absurd, and undeath is heinously unnatural, and yet this was
    another time. At nights the sky would shine scarlet and green with the
    glow of raw arcane energy filling the heavens. Gods fought and died,
    and the laws of reality were broken. The dragons fled to both the
    future and the past as man marched across the world. The dead were left
    to rot, their souls endlessly tormented in order to leech off more
    energy for spells, and the corporeal husks that remained were magically
    experimented with giving live to millions of breeds of abominations.
    The earth it's self would wail out on occasion and shift it's mass in
    protest to the profanity that coated it's surface. The dead old lady
    that stood joined the clerics, and the cogs of war continued to spin for
    century after century. Finally after three thousand five hundred years
    of unending war the war was won. Undeath had won the world back for
    nature. For a hundred years the world went on under one rulership after
    which the firm foundations began to crumble, and as people do movements
    formed for a change in government. Soon the nation had collapsed, but
    as it did the leader Finch Perterpench managed to create a monument to
    their existence. Finch Petepench like many men desired immortality,
    but he was too wise to believe time eternal his when he finally achieved
    it. No, instead he gathered ten of the Genus Loki allied to the
    disciples of Ob-ad-he-ti in the war, and seeded with the trillions of
    corpses from the fields as well as a much larger guard of undead. These
    were to serve as a remembrance for the countless men that died. No,
    today nobody remembers the sacrifices. Were they told they may even
    imagine them brave sacrifices of holy warriors, but no. These were hard
    men. Hard woman. All striving for life, and those who were not so
    "brave" or "Valiant" were simply those who accepted death as any mortal
    man does. As time passed most of the abominations from the war were
    destroyed, and the rest were sealed by the gods, and that one remnant of
    an empire that ruled the whole of the universe after an endless war was
    entrusted to the Lady of the seventh star as she was called in that
    age, for she was of the last of the true soldiers after a century of
    peace, and the only one trusted to fight on. Over the next few
    centuries the empire broke as the common man spoiled by sunlight and
    flowers began to detest the smells of the dead. Thus the followers of
    Ob-ad-he-ti slowly vanished into the most secluded areas of the word,
    and eventually the great god himself grew lax and decided to no longer
    encourage undeath as natural. As the millennia turned his name changed
    that he is now called Obad-Hi, and his demeanor has aged from the battle
    ready man that would chew through the bones of the world to get at its
    cancers to the elderly peaceful man more prone to watch the world roll
    by around him, only occasionally lifting a hand for humanity, and as a
    whole turning from humanity as new creations came to be, and wildlife
    spread across the world.

    As the world changed around her the Lady of the Seventh Star merely
    watched staying secluded. At first she had tried to fight, and two of
    the Genius Loki she had been left to protect, along with countless
    undead had been lost. After that she merely watched reading the flows
    of the world in order to ensure the safety of her charges. But in that
    battle she had become known as the Death That toils at the Evening
    Wheels, and a mighty paladin renown across the world came to deal with
    her. The battle it's self had been quick. The paladin had lured her
    out speaking of the wonders of what were then called the old gods.
    While speaking the man stabbed her in the back, and through use of her
    undying corpse managed to seal her into a crypt with a good deal of her
    soldiers. For hundreds of millennia she witnessed through her senses as
    warden of her charges, the blind agony of the graves as on by one
    humanity found and destroyed them. True they killed countless soldiers
    in any era, but the next era always brought more. By the time that she
    was finally freed, only three of the great lands remained. the
    Qual-Keth, the Rea-myath, and the Guyanahia. Silently she wept for them
    as she reanimated yet another field of blood to give them simple
    protection. Thus done The Lady, now known as the Scarlet Clover,
    immersed herself once again in the flows of mortals in order to protect
    the remaining three great lands.

    Myrrturdin of the fallen oak:

    Myrrturdin grew up in a well respected little grove with his two
    brothers and the caretakers who watched over him and his two brothers
    since his parents had died defending the grove when he was about three.
    The caretakers were two massive wolves who had once fought alongside his
    parents, but had been lamed and unable to accompany their human
    companions in their final moments. As Myrrturdin grew he displayed great
    talents for the druedic arts from being able to tell what plants were
    needed to help a sparrow's broken wing to magically fostering the growth
    of plants at age ten earning him the title of the mighty oak for his
    kind nature and acceptance of all facets of life.

    One day when Myrrturdin was sixteen he went off to the river with his
    brothers for a nice afternoon swim. he was accompanying his younger
    brother (now 13) to the river as his elder brother, still in his mid
    twenties, began setting up camp. On his way to the river he spotted a
    rare plant being denied the needed sunlight to grow, but while he
    readjusted the leaves of the plant above it in order to give it light he
    heard his younger brother shriek from the riverbed. He quickly rounded
    the bend and froze seeing his younger brother starring into the open
    jaws of a massive crocodile. As he watched his elder brother quickly ran
    by and looped around the crocodile throwing rocks to catch it's
    attention. The crocodile quickly swerved around to hunt the elder
    brother through the dense underbrush, but as it did it clipped
    Myrrturdin 's younger brother with it's tail and broke his neck.
    Myrrturdin ran back to the village for help, but when they found his
    elder brother he was already missing large chunks of his torso, and was
    long dead.

    At the burial ceremony Myrrturdin stood stunned and gazing through tear
    stained eyes at his brothers who in the period of on instant had
    disappeared from his life. He knew none were to blame and the crocodile
    was just doing what they always do, but that just left him with a hole
    inside. After many well intended but ill revived condoling pats on the
    back Myrrturdin returned to his home. Bitterly he thought to himself of
    how fleeting life was, and of the lessons the druids had taught him
    about accepting life and death equally, but in the end he only felt more
    miserable. He soon began praying to Nj ouml;r eth;r, an ancient deity
    fire and winds and sea who once governed the powers of nature. (read as
    neutral god of elemental domains) Soon his newfound faith taught him how
    to bend death as the druids bent nature. After all what was the big
    difference in giving life to humans rather than giving life to plants
    beyond the pointless self righteous words of the elders.

    He drew upon Nj ouml;r eth;r's power to reanimate his brother's shambled
    forms, but when he showed the elders they merely shook their heads in
    sorrow decreeing in a most solemn and official tone that Myrrturdin
    would no longer be Myrrturdin of the mighty Oak, but hereby be known as
    Myrrturdin of the fallen oak. As he trudged back towards his home
    Myrrturdin of the fallen Oak was attacked by a few of his neighbors.
    They instantly re-killed and destroyed his grotesquely half eaten elder
    brother, but than they ran off before he had a chance to return fire.
    Horrified that his younger brother may be slaughtered in the same manor,
    and deciding firmly that he would not stand by and watch this time he
    rushed home and tried to convince his brother to flee with him. Sadly he
    could not convince his younger brother who was now feeling the
    immortality of youth having already died once and lived to tell the
    tail. Myrrturdin was forced to exert necromantic control over his
    brother before he was finally convinced to leave.

    Now Myrrturdin is still on the run despite the lack of pursuit.
    Eventually he settled down in Ashmole much to his brother's distaste,
    and they eventually settled into the town in order to start over, but
    all the same Carouse grew restless and wanted to see more of the outside

    The Mystical Sha-Lue

    The Mystical Sha-Lue was once not vary mystical, and admittedly had a much
    less catchy name. He had been a bit of an outcast, pondering the
    mysteries of life, and imagining how he would get back at people when he
    saw something astounding. Well perhaps it wasn't much, but to him it
    was the world. A man with "a little Magic dust" performing wonders he
    might never have imagined. Making flowered stairs ascend to the
    heavens, and pixies to pour out into the world stumbling about in
    confusion, silently drifting through the air only to burst into showers
    of colored sparks when touched.

    After the show the boy asked to be taken on as an apprentice, and
    learned this odd brand of magic that one ay he too might save the heart
    of a child in need, and that he might bring wonder and fantasy to lands
    of hopelessness and naught. It is for this vary reason that The now
    grown Mystical Sha-Lue found himself in Dragon Dale, a small town sorely
    in need of some fun...
    That mystical swirling of multicolored leaves as they dance in the air, that fresh fall smell, the perfect weather that makes you feel so very alive. You can almost forget that you're watching dead tissue accumulate as winter claims the world and floods it with the calming scent of death.

  9. - Top - End - #9
    Titan in the Playground
    drack's Avatar

    Join Date
    Nov 2006
    warming your deathbed

    Default Re: Character Graveyard

    Seems I went a bit over...

    Little princess(Game never started, GM canceled)
    CANDY&SPANKY (After being passed through three GMs, game failed to get past recruitment... was a big game)
    The Scarlet Clover (Chair gen rules changed so I made another)
    Myrrturdin of the fallen oak: (Game started up, but Player/GM conflict killed it too soon when GM chose to stretch the rules to ensure DM PC was stronger then the strongest player)
    The Mystical Sha-Lue (Players sorta vannished after first combat)

    Pretty Princess Hellen (game died before anything really happened)


    Hellen was a good girl.... or at least he tried to be. Hellen grew up
    the proper young maiden doughtier of a wealthy merchant. She had always
    worn pretty dresses and jewelry. She had learned to embroider, and had
    read fine books on herbology. Once when it was a trend among the local
    nobility she had even had an archery lesson or two.

    Living the life of an innocent madden she was spared from all
    the hardships of the world from blisters to the rough back trails and
    those ever horrors callouses that can form on ones hands when they try
    too hard. Never once had she need to dirty herself, and she was quite
    proud of that fact.

    While she was but the daughter of a rich merchant, at one point
    she was privileged enough to join the embroidery circle of a real
    princess. Her beauty unparalleled even by that of all the nobles that
    had surrounded her. At one point a charming young prince had even told
    her himself:
    "Oh you do not know how I wish our fathers might give me permission to
    court you, with all the yearning of an evening moon for the embrace of
    night. Why you, a beautiful white dove the like of I fear I may never
    again see. My heart yearns that my eyes might once more stare entrapped
    by your beauty, but I understand. You must leave, and for all my love
    for you I must not ask that your father to delay his ventures to the
    enchanted weapons market to the west for a love mine father would never
    condone. Alas farewell."


    Growing up in a lifetime of luxurious travel Hellen would dream
    endlessly of the adventures in books that she might live one herself.

    As the servants under her father's employment carried her cushioned
    pavilion she would often dream that a great mage might steal her away. A
    powerful sorcerer of course. She had heard wizards often looked quite
    hideous and didn't care for the merriment and drink that she lived for.
    Other times it was a gallant knight, or a great berserker with a strong
    body as hard as enchanted mytheral, and a stare so dark and pensive that
    one couldn't help but be lost in his eyes.

    Other times a Drow king or ogre prince, each as gallant as the last
    wooing her from her life to their grand palaces where she might sit and
    hear how their hearts jumped when they saw her, and how they thought
    themselves brutes to yearn so for her flesh.

    She dreamed how soft and comfortable the ground must be on a cool summer
    day, and of those crystal clear rivers in which a fare madden might
    bath. It was all she had ever wanted, "Adventure", a journey far across
    the world where she might experience all that she had heard of in the

    Moving on from the magic item trade her father soon moved into
    the alchemical goods and potions trade selling thousands of potions for
    love, beauty, curative purposes, and of course those used to burn
    things. Much like those that a gang of marauders riding across the lands
    were using at the time.
    Fire reined from the sky causing a wagon to instantly combuste. After
    that the heavy guard was swiftly overwhelmed by the endless explosions
    that melted clean through their armor. Hellan's father was killed on
    sight, and all the women and children were gathered, made into
    playthings for the marauders, especially the pretty ones. Eventually it
    would happen that the king would send his personal knights to kill the
    marauders, and that the prisoners would be freed to roam the world
    defiled and penniless.

    Hellen was devastated when by the attack. She remembered it
    perfectly up to this vary day. She had been in a lord's private sun room
    near to her father's estate. She had been drinking a rather good
    vintage while talking frivolously about the lordling's daring adventures
    when a man had informed her of her father's death. For the next week
    she walled herself in her room silently crying into her silken sheets
    and cushions. For the month thereafter she began frequently inviting
    friends and young men of noble standing who sought out her company.
    Anything she could do to stave off the loneliness. One day soon though,
    she awoke to the sound of a heavy ram breaking down her door allowing
    skeletons to flood her apartments.

    A tall ugly man in a long dark robe strode boldly through the
    hoard of undeads. As it happens her funds had run dry, and the
    necromancer was to take her holdings as collateral. When she asked the
    necromancer what she was to do, he replied with a coldness she had never
    heard before, denied all the natural love that comes so easily to the
    living in her prescience. He told her that he didn't care. He would
    leave her a bow, a change of cloths (if the dirty things could even be
    called that!), a few arrows, and some old rocks that the man thought to
    jest of as "trail rations". Striped of everything but her dignity,
    beauty, and dreams of adventure Hellen set out to see the world anew.

    Physical description

    is indeed a 7'9" raven haired beauty. She is currently dressed in a
    flowing silk dress that reaches her ankles with blue flowers embroidered
    about the base, and a gold trim about the edges. Her face is anything
    but plane, looking almost childish beside her large body. Two dimples
    dominate her cheeks, and her emerald green eyes shine as true as any
    treasure. Her smile as bright and clear as any midday sky smiles calmly
    at the world with a sense of dignity often reserved for those of high
    birth. Across her back a bow hangs, tall enough to dwarf any ogre.


    is... well to be honest quite sheltered and spoiled. She believes that
    adventure is meant to be a fanciful tale of luxury and comport. She
    believes that any time roughens might appear, that a valiant knight will
    ride forth from the bushes to defeat it, and she believes that it is
    only natural for everyone to love her, and do anything they can to help
    her. She is accustomed to a certain level of luxury (Silken beds,
    freshly picked plums with fine wine and a bit of brie with her morning
    bread, fresh and soft from the ovens, and a small army of servants to
    accompany her.) Insulted by the rocks that the vile loan shark had
    attempted to pass off as food, she had tossed them in the ocean along
    her voyage, and had almost been tempted to do the same with the rags the
    lich had given her before deciding even they were better then venturing
    forth in the buff. Still here she was without shelter or warmth, with a
    back sore from the stiff hard planks of the ship, off to find a
    wonderful adventure with enough treasure for her to live in comfort once
    more. Perhaps she'll even find more then her father found in the
    mercantile business.

    Kitra (people lost interest before the first combat ended)


    knowledge history/local (DC10) Kitra is a monster hunter. Not a
    particularly famous or successful one, but her name is whispered in a
    few circles for some exceptional and inexplicable kills, though all the
    same she would be about mid-tier so far as monster hunters go. (think
    plane of shadow ECL 10-18 kills as her big ones) She is a tall girl with
    a wicked barbs sword nearly her own size, and a steel clove barbed with
    wicked thorns on her left (that part I stole from the picture ). She
    generally wears a mythral mesh and a torn dark robe. Her skin and hair
    are black as night and her eyes a glowing red.

    Knowledge history/local (DC20) she is somewhat picky about her marks,
    and is to at home and self assured for most clients to even think of
    hiring her

    Knowledge history/local (DC30) Oddly enough some of the locals commented
    that those two marks that earned Kitra her name felt off a if there was
    something different about them...

    Knowledge history/local (DC50) the kills
    The first was a nightmare beast that dragged people off in their reams,
    and the next day in reality they were torn apart outside town with half
    of their blood missing, as well as several organs.

    The second was a darkened wood filled with wisps of shadows all coated
    in a dark mist.

    Otherwise there is little current info on her


    Knowledge history/local (DC 50) she was born in a small town that was
    raided and destroyed by monsters. It was completely wiped off the map,
    though it was a backwoods village, so there weren't many maps it ha been
    on in the first place.

    Knowledge history/local (DC70) In truth a currently deceased wizard had
    sent the monsters with the intent to kill a rival who had fled to the
    village. It is believed he was killed by a third wizard (perhaps a
    relation or close colleague of the rival).

    Knowledge history/local (DC 100)
    If combined with a
    Knowledge arcane/divine (DC 100)
    From evidence at the tower of the decided wizard's tower it appears as
    if there was a duel of epic proportions (literally), and that a mage was
    stripped of all their arcane talent in an ancient ritual involving
    three artifacts. While the assailant thought to be stripped of their
    magic was not found at the scene it is assumed that they survived.

    While it is worth noting that the ritual with the artifacts actually
    nullifies all magic/psionics/pacts/magical abilities, but the crushed
    stone found about the house being a compound of phosphorous and marble
    laced with amethyst tells that the one drained ha possessed only arcane
    talents, and of immense strength.

    Backstory (the real one that none of you know of...)

    In the beginning

    Screams wrought the air as fires raged unopposed throughout the town...
    Kitra had known she was special, why everyone had said so since she had
    been born. The stars had said as much. Even that kind old traveling mage
    Joshua had said so. While he had been hiding from his brother Gregory
    he had told her a great many things of magic. While Gregory had studied
    the pure power of magic, Joshua has studied the fine intricacies of it
    learning to turn it upon it's user.

    Cautiously Kitra watched the demon playing with Joshua's head off in a
    corner. Wrapping it's tongue through one eye, wriggling it through
    Joshua's overdeveloped brain, and out another eye as it rolled the head
    back and forth in a rhythmic motion. Carefully she edge around it
    slipping out through the door before the building could come down around
    her. Outside she could hear the screams of children, she could see the
    kind baker, the lady with the cute cats, and ... her parents... One by
    one they were torn apart by the demon horde. Silently she wished that
    the demons wouldn't get her, that they wouldn't find her, that she could
    escape and wake up again to the smell of freshly baked bread. Wake up
    to hear her parent's scolding of her chores and Joshua's boring lectures
    about magic. Mostly she just wanted to hide, to block it all out.

    A harsh voice sounded in the back of here head as if a thousand old men
    had begun one of Joshua's boring lectures again in horribly distorted
    grotesque voices cutting through her skull like daggers. Angrily she
    pushed the voices back watching in fright as the demons leaped ignoring
    her while rending everyone to bits. It was all Joshua's fault. It was
    his brother after all... "and yet" a small voice in her head spoke
    unbidden. "And yet they warned you that if the gods ever learned of you
    they would stop at nothing to destroy you out of their petty fears..."
    she shut this voice out too, and the next, and the next until she felt
    hollow seeing the massacre all about her from old man hick's intestine
    to young Charlies bleeding kidney lying halfway across town. She had
    liked Charlie... she remembered that. Silently the only voice left in
    her, that of a hollow girl that has seen more than any truly should told
    her to go to flee. The clamoring of distorted voices began again
    directing and pulling at her senses. Exhausted she allowed them to.

    the Aftermath

    Slowly he approached the clearing drawn by the sounds of fire. Silently
    she backed away, but it was too late the mage had noticed her already,
    and ran to her throwing his thin arms around her. It was a ghost, an
    apparition, a demon in disguise. Futility she attempted to detach
    herself from Joshua's embrace as he sobbed his thanks to the unnamed
    heavens, careful not to name any god least he call their attention to
    her, and yet unrelenting in his thanks.

    As it happened Joshua had magically created several replicas of himself
    with which to detract the demons in the hopes of someone surviving.
    Sadly his efforts had been for naught, as after a week of searching and
    burning the dead no survivors were found. She had nowhere else, and so
    Joshua raised her from there in that barren wilderness in which a single
    village had died unmissed and unmourned. Eventually she learned to mask
    her powers, and Joshua left to put an end to his brother once and for

    The long wait

    With Joshua gone she began experimenting on her own with the great
    powers within her mastering them to such an extent that even Joshua
    would be pressed to control her, and yet the man had been gone for a
    year. Cautiously she bound her powers and ventured out into the world in
    order to find what had become of the kind elderly mage that had raised

    Looking to the sky she traces the flows for months before finding that
    he was in a great stone tower. When she knocked at the great door a
    strange young man answered, and when she asked for Joshua she was
    promised a reunion, and brought to a sitting room. In but a half of an
    hour she as brought to a heavy oaken door.

    Approaching that door had been one of the hardest things she ever did,
    not because of the weight in her heart at the thought of seeing Joshua
    alive and well, but because of the endless tortured wails within her
    head. The powerful magics within her while muted by her suppression
    magic drew on her heavier then they ever had causing her to feel ill and
    sway, nearly vomiting. When the door finally opened and she saw Joshua
    starved to the point of death and chained within a ritual to burn out
    all of his once great magical potential it was the last straw. While
    Gregory had intended her to break the last of his brother's resolve
    instead he had unleashed a tempest of raw magical.

    As Kitra's barriers fell the ancient magic stretched forth within her,
    and she dueled the man that had killed everyone. Dueled him without even
    a thought as to what she did fighting with sheer uncontrolled magical
    potential and the chaotic spirit of a willful youth. Gregor was quickly
    overwhelmed, and yet as his lifeblood drained it mixed with the other
    ritual components braining Joshua of all his energies. Hurriedly Kitra
    tried her best to assist the frail old man from the tower.

    A life on the road.

    The thin frail form in her arms shook and shuddered under coughing fits
    that seemed to tear him apart from the inside, and there was nothing she
    could do. He died not fifty paces from the tower, his body unable to
    withstand both the torture and the loss of his power, but the part that
    Kitra remembered best, her bitterest memory, was the smile on the old
    man's lips, splattered in blood hanging below dead eyes on a face nearly
    too gaunt to hold a smile at all, and it was with that wretched smile
    that he had told her his last words. In a voice half moan half gasp he
    said "I am glad that when I fade from this world... I am glad that my
    daisy grown amidst the damned... has grown so beautifu..."

    After Joshua died, forcing his spirit to the hells to keep any of the
    gods from learning of her through his immortal soul, the light went out
    of Kitra. She sealed her powers learning the ways of the shadow an
    hunting those like Gregor such that no other little girl need witness
    both the slaughter of her family, and the torment of living truly alone
    in the world. Soon the voices of the energies within her became her only
    friend and she began to heed them more with all their wisdom from
    hundreds of ancient tombs long decomposed. She began accepting mercenary
    work, especially when a mage was involved and quietly she scrapped by
    in her day to day life as a shadow among shadows.

    A mercenary's life for me

    Slowly the scars healed and she learned to be even jovial, shrugging off
    the terrors of her past, keeping only her lethal combat styles from
    those days... and yet... and yet she could never fully open up to anyone
    for fear of that divine wrath that she may have invoked so many rears
    ago, and as a result that darkness etched in her soul was never truly
    washed away, and never once did she become friends with any other but
    the entity within herself. After all who can say, perhaps what she would
    become was part of what she was that let her host this force in the
    first place.

    In either case the deep fear within her was turned to anger on that ay,
    and she began to foster a dark hatred strong enough to match the wrath
    of the gods filling her hollow soul with cold flames motivating her to
    endure it all, to bear the weight of the world alone for the sake of her
    dark past, and the darker future ahead.


    Silently she pulled the blade back licking it's cold tip and tasting the
    fleeting warmth of the guard's lifeblood. Yet again she found herself
    killing, killing, killing, and by the end drenched in sweat and blood
    she would again vanish from the world a shadow of a shadow never meant
    to feel the light of the sun, spending her days with the life of a
    mercenary,using that crimson stare and her oversize blade Shadow Sire to
    ward off drunkards, and silently enjoying the warmth of the inn until
    she met her contact to begin her next job.


    Silently a shadow flickered overhead. Kitra forced herself to drop her
    masking effects allowing all her might to wash over this cold dark
    realm. This realm was far beyond the eyes of the gods, having once
    existed to serve a great evil from a time long past.

    Back before the gods of today something deformed and powerful had
    emerged from the plane of shadow. A large mass of swirling darkness it
    had descended upon the world and caused an age of darkness. In that age
    countless men were born and trained as the immortal flickers and shadows
    of that age. Soon men of the ancient gods managed to slay the
    abomination, and so the immortal shadows, seeing naught else to do, took
    the corpse of their master, and weaving a plane to call it's grave they
    became the endless guardians of their dead master, inhabiting the dark
    swirls of mist that had been its existence.

    It was this land that Kitra wandered within the belly of a force equal
    to the force inhabiting her own body. Silently she walked towards the
    only structure, a temple at the depths of the plane. By now the immortal
    shadows would ave noticed her no matter how she hid, and they would
    recognize the nebula of power around her as well as the endless shadowy
    outlines of hands upon the ground, each surrounded by a nimbus of
    multicolored light. A luminescent magical circle glowed behind her, and
    necromantic energy had already gathered in her mind.

    Ascending the stair of the temple she looked to the cluster of shades
    about her. They were innumerable beyond count, and yet many had tired of
    their endless life in this world, and would gather here for her to take
    them again to see the world.

    Uncertain of their true intents for the world she carefully allowed the
    necromantic energy to wash over them each in turn, bending them to
    obedience before folding space, and again releasing and binding her
    magic as she left the realm. It wouldn't do for a god to see her like
    that through the eyes of a stray traveler.

    Silently the shadows trailed behind her trailing a darkness darker then
    night, and she wondered to herself what tomorrow may hold.

    __________________________________________________ ___________________

    And so it happened. Jenna danced her blades with ease yet again
    through the endless hordes of fools lost far from their own times. Her
    swords sang, whispering deathsongs as they rose and fell, rose and
    fell, scything through those around her like a thresher does corn at a
    harvest. Silently a shadow slipped through the battlefield towards the
    blazing angel's intricate dance, their meeting swords exploding into a
    flurry. The shadow fought as though three people fought through it,
    displacing too quickly to track, and yet the angel continued to meet
    every blows evenly, deflecting the would be hits, and scoring hits that
    should have connected - but instead faded into the darkness of the girl
    before her. A peculiar being with red eyes and a murky green skin, she
    fought like a flickering shadow cast by a flame, weaving in and out of
    reach like a phantom. Wielding that sword clumsily, and yet twirling
    her clawed hand in a fashion befitting a master - that ever kept the
    angel on guard for the strike that never came.

    Sweat slowly beaded on the blonde angel as she surveyed her opponent,
    blue eyes sad. This one, truly she was a worthy opponent. Far more than
    most she had met. But these were but children’s games, and they would
    have to end one way or another. Her swords danced again, light
    flickering across their surface in a blaze of silver fire, but the
    shadow endured. Light leeching away, falling into darkness even as it
    struck. And the angel sighed, sad eyes turning pitying. Such potential…
    shame. Her dance drew back, the sword in her right hand shattering
    into a gathering column of roiling, argent fire. And the claw, the claw
    that had threatened and withdrawn again and again, that claw finally
    struck. The world exploded.

    Silver flames erupted around them, burning away the earth, the skies,
    all those surrounding them in a never-ending ocean of flame. Soldiers
    burnt out, fell, and exploded with the same silver fury, forming a
    shockwave of condensed light so intense that by all rights nothing
    should have survived it. But the flames subsided. And the two stood
    opposite, blades held, surveying each other anew. The angel, blue eyes
    alight and singed by her own flames, now revealed in her dark nature,
    willing to sacrifice countless lives just to kill this enemy, and Kitra,
    the dark shadow that refused to fade in the light, untouched even now.
    Their battle ended soon after. While Jena recovered from her wounds
    quickly, Kitra continued to avoid her strikes – as she avoided hers –
    until it finally, somehow, happened. Neither recalls exactly who said
    it first, nor if it was even said, but somewhere in the continuing
    bladesong they saw the futility of continuing their duel.

    The angel’s swords faded, silver light rippling back into her as the
    shadow sheathed her sword, and they looked about them. Above the sky
    shone the purest of blues as if to deminish with the bloodbath below as
    a mere act of mortals ... the crows would feed well, and it would be
    futile to even attempt to deny them their meal. Slowly the two walked
    back to shadow-claw's camp, for in their battle there had been found
    some small kinship. For even to darkness, there is purity in the songs
    of blades. And they two; Jena and Kitra, they recognised that in each

    After much talk, a respect formed of respect of prowess grew to a
    friendship – and then, in time, to a permanent alliance. Ancient
    history now, but important still. For now Jenna and Kitra serve on the
    board of directors of CUP. They work together here, as they have ever
    since that day long ago, striving tirelessly to help save some of the
    countless lives that they likely would have destroyed had their battle
    gone differently.

    Charlie was ever a happy bloke, from his childhood of chasing cats and
    eating apples, to eating stale beans in his days serving under a rag-tag
    troop in the thick of the "war of ages" as the historians would later
    call it.

    Since the dawn of time there have always been people who's mere
    prescience made everyone smile. And those who always smiled no matter
    how miserable the world showed it's self to be. A full smile that would
    endlessly mock the whims of fate no matter how they spun.

    Unsettling to all around him Charlie would carry that crazed smile in
    combat as well as when he walked through his camp, eying all the new
    recruits wretchedly curled in their heavy cloaks, already sodden in
    frozen over gore. He would see the disrepair in their eyes and he would
    chuckle as if their misery was the best joke around. In some circles
    he became known as "the Cackling Reaper" as without fail he would lead
    every assault laughing with such zeal as he carved his path through the

    The Cackling Reaper was a rather high end mercenary, and would commonly
    walk through camps of fresh meat looking for those with the most misery
    to recruit. Perhaps he thought they had the most potential, or perhaps
    the tales tell true and that reaper would ghost through the camps
    searching for another spark of madness to make his own. In any case
    Kitra was taken to her troop before having ever even seen combat, and
    that reaper that scoured the battlefields in the tales of yore taught
    her the "dance of shadows" as he called war. Taught her to weave and
    flicker through the melee, but most of all he taught her how to laugh at
    the endless torment of her life. To laugh at the screams and agony of
    her victims. To laugh at the endless rains of gore and fire. Most of
    all he taught her to laugh at her past, and she continued to laugh until
    the pain in her sides equaled the pain in her heart.

    When it finally happened that the Cackling Reaper fell in combat, and
    his soul departed to his gods for all eternity it was said that a small
    girl no older then twenty had slain his foe. Not a Cackling Reaper but a
    lunatic all the same. It was said that in the final seconds before her
    head fell, lightening quick, she had grabbed the man's blade with that
    clawed hand, and turned the blow to the large man's gut scoring a wound
    both crippling the man in enough agony to remove him from combat, but to
    also to slowly kill him. Witnesses claim that the lights of his eyes
    faded as the last drop of blood fell in that battle as if some fell
    power had held his thread of light allowing him to linger just long
    enough to complete his defeat.

    Ever since then Kitra earned the name "Shadow Claw" upon the battlefield
    as if to emphasize the lesser evil in that great blade to that of the
    metal glove that could end a man's life in an instant. After the war
    many mercenaries still served under her, and many more sought to use her
    name in seeking employment. Thus she formed CUP (the Committee of
    Unfinanced Potential), in order to keep the mercenaries from being
    forced into the life of a bandit, as well as to allow governments to
    stabilize after the war through granting them more control over the
    militants. Soon even the poor that may have themselves turned to
    highway robbery took on jobs as mercenaries, allowing cheep help, and
    helping to free up some of the old war dogs to take on jobs that might
    be worth their time.

    The Fool (Was an NPC, so I guess it really doesn't belong here, though I've kinda already dug it up... )

    Scholars have long questioned how it is that a world was created with such a swift time stream as this came to be. The answer, as it usually is, is much simpler then the countless theories used to explain the phenomenon. A god so powerful that he hadn't the need of worshipers. Whenever others asked him how it was he had gathered such power his reply was simply "I was young and naive."

    Why was it that he crafted this plane? The standing theory is that he either needed to lick his wounds from some cosmic disaster, or that he grew tired of wandering through existence and decided to make this plane merely as an amusement. Though some believe he hides darker intentions nobody challenges the god, and he walks the lands as he chooses favoring Izeldus' former domain.

    Perhaps most common of all that is asked of him is why one with the power to create such a land is known throughout the whole of his creation as The Fool. There is but one answer to this question. The god gave himself the name as a self appointed title ages ago when he first allowed his presence to be known. While the details are unknown it is apparent that the god sees himself as such for some wrong he has done in a former life.

    quick profile (As per PHB):

    The god of the plane, The Fool is true neutral. He is known as The Fool, or in older tombs as Jester to the Fates. The Fool watches those too foolish to follow the paths of fate, and those who think hard on what it is their life has held. The Fool offers neither domains nor spells to his worshipers making fools of them as he does of himself. The Fool once walked from the void and created the plane. The favored weapon of The Fool is the Marotte, which is commonly misused as a club as none seem to know how indeed it was intended to be used.

    Full profile (as per Deities and Demigods):

    the overseer of all, the lord of the world, the Jester to the Fates
    Symbol: A miniature replica of his Marotte
    Home Plane: The one you inhabit
    Portfolio: Trickery, meddling, travel, knowledge, bad jokes
    Worshipers: Fools, drunks, circus performers and bad comedians as well as the ever rare seers of The Fool.
    Cleric Alignments: CN, N, LN
    Domains: unknown
    Favored Weapon: Marotte

    The Fool (I'm not breaking this into syllables for you...), usually appears in a black and white motley, wielding a matching marotte that completely fails to emulate the terror of the enraged dragon on it's end, looking much like a well made child's play toy.

    The Fool concerns himself with the politics of his plane to some degree though he rarely even interferes directly perfecting instead to merely set opposing factions against any whom he disfavors. It is said to be The Fool's influence that aided Izeldus in gaining his throne, as it is suspected he had his part in the dragon's disappearance.

    The Fool has few clergy. Four seers at the moment. (One at the crystal lake, one at the southern base of Izeldus' former holdings, one in the Gaiad forest, and one at the center of the eastern continent.) The Fool is also worshiped by fools, drunks, and most of the court jesters that have been exiled from courts on account of the quality of their entertainment. It is said that the worship of The Fool is the only true acknowledgement of one's failure in life within such professions. In general such people begin entertaining in inns and taverns. Occasionally a cult will form to worship him, but more often then not his lack of willingness to grant power to his followers and his refusal to act even when "high priests" instruct him to causes them to die down quickly enough.

    Quests: Commonly quests sought from The Fool are those no other god will grant, leading to some of the greatest of rewards, but also of such great pearl that few who do not consider themselves to rival the gods ever seek such quests.

    Players: You may meet him at some point or another. You likely know enough about him that you'd recognize hm if you did, and his seers are said to be top class, but he isn't by any means a constant presence.

    Temples: Each of his four seers resides within a temple, though beyond that none are publicly known of.

    Rites: It is customary for a follower of The Fool to either greet others with a joke, or wave a marotte of their own design and speaking their greetings as if thought it (as a puppet)

    Herald and Allies The Fool has no herald as he constantly walks the plane, and he considers all who inhabit it allies to some degree holding no true allies.

    Iroh Feterman (GM posted minimally at the start then returned to find everyone gone)



    A slight rattling of heavy golden coins sounded in the darkened booth.

    "Oh I could tell you of this man, but we would have died of age long before I approached the end. I could tell you of the brave knight who saved the kingdom, of how the greatest weapons master of all time was defeated by naught but a beet farmer, or even of how that beet farmer survived the end of the world ... but no, I will tell you the story of the mangy street rat that kidnapped the princess beloved to her kingdom, and how he killed her before the knights of her king. I will tell you the story of the ragged fool who found himself tired of court politics, and who turned his blade upon his king."
    A heavy hand fell to the gold tucking it into a concealed pocket, while the other hand hovered over a knife. Not everyone cared for the lives of Those Who Know, and he wasn't about to believe that this man would, wrapped in secrecy it seemed his client had little regard for the openness of knowledge at all. Taking a breath he began his tale.

    In the year 475 there existed a princess who lived with her beloved grandmother. One day a prince came to whisk the princess away, but she decided instead that she loved her grandmother too much to leave with the prince. Soon the prince leaned that the princess' grandmother had a glimmer of magical talent, and as such he cleaved her head from her neck, and brought the princess home, along with the head of the "witch" he had slain to free her.

    Pausing the man darted a quick glance at his glance under the guise of wetting his throat with wine. "Naturally the princess was taught of civilization and freed of the corruption of the witch by the court and everyone was overjoyed when she began acting as a proper princess again. This story was popularized as the tail of Sir Adman and the Witch of Gendiver Grove.

    In any case, in time the witch's grandmother in turn heard of it. An ancient which of great power from the elder days when the magic of creation yet lingered. A fearsome mage indeed, and so the kingdom sunk immense wealth to attract every sell sword in the world to aid in slaying her. Countless came, and countless died. Eventually a brilliant tactition won the battle by lulling the mage into a false sense of security....

    The client was gesturing for him to speed it up. "In any case it is not this tactition that matters so much as the queen's bodyguard. When it happened that the bodyguard found out exactly what had transpired to bring the princess to the courts he seemed rather offset and inquired why she was so compliant.
    'This s the way of the world and resisting him would do nothing' the queen informed him, and soon the two were locked in a fearsome debate of morals in which it is said that the swordsman continued to reference philosophies that had never existed, and in the end they fled.

    The already assembled armies of the king pursued them, and yet it was said that the trail they made was sodden red with blood to slow their pursuers. As it happens the bodyguard slew the vast majority of the army until all the sell swords an rag tag bands had fled, and only the knights remained."

    Forgetting himself in his tale the One Who Knows began adding details as he had once done on festival nights. "The white capes waved over the ornate armor of the knights, each suit hundreds of years old as they walked up the stone steps. Within the temple the bodyguard heard the clinks and clanks of his tie once again coming to an end, as a small stone can be heard rattling down a cliff before it reaches the bottom... And yet... The circle of en entered the room with swords drawn just as the bodyguard shoved his sword up from hid charge's neck through the top of her skull for all the knights to see. 'Is this what you want? A dead puppet queen to dance about in your courts? Is that why you hollowed this woman? What then would become of any heirs she bore? What would they think of the world by the time they rule it?'

    This tale was brought by a cowardly squire who ran, but it is said that the bodyguard fought in an impossible manner, using his every limb, and countless blades to combat the men, and that afterwards the bodies of the knights were found mangled in a heap."

    The client slowly stood up and walked out of the private room. Sighing in relieve the One Who Knows slowly opened the bag to ascertain that it was truly gold, withdrawing his hand quickly as something closed around it... a Grotcho, a poisonous creature made by magi in the image of a dragon. Just as protective of gold, and with a bite poisonous enough to kill in seconds. A method commonly used to kill people who weren't supposed to survive their payment, a method to keep them from speaking of any encounters. These were his last thoughts.

    Meanwhile a man neither of them had thought much of lay passed out drunk in the ally outside.


    Iroh is a pragmatic power seeker who wants to get as much out of life as he can.


    Iroh looks to be a rugged man in his late twenties. His hair is long and unkempt, and his face might have looked handsome were it not always so stern and unwashed.


    Iroh has trained with more weapons than most people know exist. he has also learned to hunt, trap, fish, cook, he has learned to read and write most languages spoken across the world as well as many that are not. In his life he has been a woodsman, a blacksith, a carpenter, a stableman, even a potter, though he broke more then he made... Regardless Iroh's passion has always led in combat both as a physical and mental release through which he can break free of the constraints of society. He also holds a passion for retaining forgotten lore having visited several libraries and memorized their content. Sadly while Iroh knows the ways of court, and can play hos hand at politics knowing all the proprieties he should not be expected to perform such tasks as he is not so good with the unwritten rules of society, and will generally make an inappropriate comment or two.


    Iroh has accumulated immense wealth over his many years of life, and keeps it safely stored away.

    A spirit-flask (flask that turns water to vine if power magic is applied)
    A key
    a spirit-box
    an arsenal of weapons
    common goods
    ritual components
    extensive collection of ancient spirit-dolls
    the Book of thought

    Social Status

    Iroh could easily best any weapons-master, or claim many such titles, but at the moment he has no true status in society.





    Iroh is somewhat inexperienced with power, and yet he compensated with his sheer ferocity in it's use. Sadly he commonly requires the use of rituals to channel it least he accidentally blow his own head off as he lacks control.



    Iroh never believed there was much power in shadow magic, nor had he any talent in making people believe him. As such he never bothered with the stuff.


    Iroh understands the basics of manna an could apply it quite easily to his rituals, or design them to counter various misaligned attacks, and yet it doesn't change the fact that he has none of the stuff.



    Ritual magic was always one of Iroh's strong points. While he mainly uses it to channel his power magic, the gears in his had never stop turning, and various specific fields of ritual magic are all too well understood by the man.



    Iroh has never cared about people seeing them as a nusence and a distraction



    Iroh always saw the idea of holding things sacred as an impediment, and he wasn't going to allow a little thing like that to get in his way.

    3 things about the world

    The modern world is half civilized with various levels of tech from magically floating cities to cave dwelling shaman. The world is also only half controlled by humans with many uncontrolled regions in which magical creatures reign.

    The tale of Fi: It is said that somewhere underground is a pit within which there lies a labyrinth of endless traps and perils, as many physical as magical. It is said that at the end of this labyrinth is a door with seven locks, an a deep and powerful voice behind this door calling to be freed. Long long ago before the gods existed there was a giant so big that the other giants feared him. They locked hi in a massive cage with a magical seal to stay shut regardless of what happens. When the gos remade the world this cage went unnoticed and was lobbed in with everything else. Now it is said that anyone who can successfully unlock the box before it flees to another place underground will be rewarded beyond their wildest dreams.

    The dragon king Karnash. Karnash is a mythical figure that dragons are occasionally caught muttering about. it is believed by mortals that he is the first dragon, more powerful then all the others, and that he secretly guides all dragon-kin from the shadows. While dragons need not be coordinated to be dangerous, if this is true it could end up rather badly for humanity which is beginning to assert it's self as the new most powerful race in the world.

    3 things about magic

    Homunculi, Undeads, and constructs of thought: Since humanity existed they have always tried to reach beyond their potential defying even death and creation. "Playing God" if you will. While the dead are not as they were their bodies can be made to function as a "necromancer" wishes them to, spilling forth information stored in their brains, walking, fighting, ect. Though their motions never appear natural and as they decay they forget things and their other tissues decompose loosing other functions as well. For instance one can't speak without a throat and lungs. Homunculi are artificially created creatures. The magical experiments of magi that live in some manner or another. Both are commonly used as messengers and the like, and are usually only confronted in times of war or after the deaths of their creators (though some survive the death of their creator with no reaction depending on the circumstances). Constructs of thought are somewhat akin to spirits. Formless at birth though they can be given anything from no form to quazi-real, to a solid body. These constructs are formed by copying the mage's intelligent, and building off it. These are useful as they can generally process information faster allowing a mage to gather all that a library has to offer rather quickly. While they take more time and energy to create they can also be useful for espionage and stealth as they can exist without a corporal form to give them away. In any case constructs of thought and undeads require a constant power source of some sort.

    Our world is a trifle more complicated then most believe, and many magi use their to their advantage. There is a world that ties all dreams together, one that tie thought. There are passageways that lead from any mirror to another of the same maker, and one that leads to all other reflective surfaces in existence. There is a world through which one can travel from any one shadow to another, and there is a world, perhaps most important of all, the path to which can only be seen out of the corner of your eye. While this world is overrun by demons, it is said that the gods themselves have taken shelter here to escape the world while they recover from it's creation.

    Blood magic is perhaps the oldest of all magic, and thoroughly dead in the modern world. Before the gods came and
    remade the world, in a world that no longer ever existed it was the primary form of magic. Of it there were countless verities, those who's blood would summon animals, and those who could bless the lands through their blood simply pumping in their veins. Of these there were five bloodlines feared above the others. These were known as Dreamweavers, Immortals, Giants, Elders, and the Dead-ones. The gods saw that these race once were, and so they mimicked their magics in their own creation. Dreamweavers once feared everywhere as body-less entities that traveled the world of dreams were the second to die out. This magic was incorporated into young girls who's talent for shadow and power magic would only fully develop at a late age, and could learn to freely traverse the world of dreams planting suggestions that would continue to manifest through shadow magics in their waking lives. The third to die out were the Dead-ones, beings who would return from death hungering, and with supernatural strengths. Nowadays some necromancers decorate the dead they command with runes to grant them further strength without ever knowing the true reason why. The first of the great bloodlines to die out, attacked by the joined might of the Dreamweavers and Dead-ones that began the war. The elder ones were beings of nature that encourage the arts, and spread joy. All the same they were mighty beings. Once human they would root themselves to one spot singing, or painting, even sculpting for hundreds of years until thick vegetation would grow over them, and they would control the might of the most ancient of trees. The new gods created Nymphs and Satyrs to continue this roll of bringing a natural merriment to man. The Giants were the last to die out. They were beings of immense power, with control over the elements that made them the most dangerous of them all. The Giants took to the front lines in the war, and in fighting the weaklings that would rise up to fight what would remain of the "noble five bloodlines" after the war among themselves had killed ll but the immortals and the dragons. For their great might, and their well deserved ego the Giants they were remade as the dragons of today, with a fraction of their former might, but still more then a match for the greatest magi of today, relying silly on the might of their power magic, and their instincts tailored to kill. The immortals... now there is a tale. the immortals were always the weakest an most human of the five, except that they possessed thee most remarkable natural healing. Immortals similarly would not age normally, allowing them to perfect all of the arts over countless eons. Yet this was not to say that they didn't age, so much as that they didn't age normally. At any time an immortal could expend some of their own life force to heal their wounds, which would in turn age them. While this would happen vary slowly, it would still age them. For instance an immortal could heal a fatal wound, or restore the youth of the elderly loosing only a few minutes of their life span, but were they to heal a giant, or care for all the wounded at a battlefield they would likely end up aging much quicker then any mortal. Rare as they were, there were seven immortals alive at the start of the blood war due to the great times of peace prior to the war. Immortals were remade in the new world as ten divine beings that appear much as will-o-wisps gifted with the ability to produce small quantities of divine manna over time. So far only three have been documented as dead.


    Long ago in a time before time a city existed that none in the modern age know called Halverton. This was once the intellectual capitol of a far more advanced world in which even a common swordsman would be considered an intellectual by modern standards. While the blood ward may have destroyed all of civilization afterwards it was a peaceful place at the time.

    Hope I didn't wholly miss the point of the thread.
    Last edited by drack; 2013-11-17 at 10:49 PM.
    That mystical swirling of multicolored leaves as they dance in the air, that fresh fall smell, the perfect weather that makes you feel so very alive. You can almost forget that you're watching dead tissue accumulate as winter claims the world and floods it with the calming scent of death.

  10. - Top - End - #10
    Titan in the Playground
    Keledrath's Avatar

    Join Date
    Jan 2007
    GMT -5

    Default Re: Character Graveyard

    Sadly, my characters do not earn names until they are in a campaign. But still.

    The Half-breed Gish (When I knew only Core)
    Race: Half Orc
    Class: Ranger 1, Wizard 5, Eldritch Knight 4 (Made him at lvl 10)
    Equipment: Greataxe, Glammered Robes (Looked like mithril full plate)
    Backstory: The child of a human rapist and an orc mother, he was raised among orcs who despised him. He was a competent scout, but one day the scouting party found the lair of an ancient silver dragon. The group was caught, and the rest were killed. However, the dragon spared the half breed. He was taken in, and showed a surprising aptitude for magic. He trained under the dragon for years until one day the dragon sent hm away, giving him a bag and telling him to find another silver dragon, any silver dragon, and to give the bag to it. As he fled, the half breed looked back and saw red forms circling around the silver dragon's lair.
    OOC: The bag contained eggs. The idea behind the gear was that people saw a half orc in heavy armor with a big axe and therefore avoided melee with him. An ideal party would have included members like monks who could look like mages but function in melee, so the enemies would rush the robed dudes (who are actually the frontliners) and ignore the armored half orc (who is actually the caster)
    I follow a general rule: better to ask and be told no than not to ask at all.

    Shadeblight by KennyPyro

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  12. - Top - End - #12
    Bugbear in the Playground
    Cranthis's Avatar

    Join Date
    Oct 2012

    Default Re: Character Graveyard

    Admiral Cranthis, Inventor of the Cranthis (Sandwich) and the Gnomish Paratroopers, and rider of Chuckles, the dire pig.
    Do I need to add more? Ok, I will. When we first started playing and thought a natural 20 on skill checks meant epic success, Cranthis made a nat 20 on a handle animal against a dire pig.

    Later on, while at a semi-important dinner with a nobleman, a nice one at that, I decided that my character would make a sandwich with the contents of the meal. Out of game I had no idea that no had ever done this, so I told them it was called a Cranthis.

    Even later, we had to help out two ally armies of Gnomes and Humans (mostly). We had brought the gnomes the first blueprints of a cannon. Unfortunately it didn't say what to use as ammo. And these gnomes are the crazy inventor kind. So I told them why not strap them in suits of armor that could fold in abit to look like (insert vague description of a bullet), with some sort of mid-air slowing device to prevent death on impact.

    As part of the same quest/mission/thingy, we aquired an Airboat. I didn't captain, but I owned it and was more or less in control of it. So they called me Admiral as well.

    That should be all of Cranthis' impressive title.
    Admiral Cranthis, Inventor of the Cranthis (Sandwich) and the Gnomish Paratroopers, and rider of Chuckles, the dire pig.

    Awesome avatar by TinyMushroom!

  13. - Top - End - #13
    Dwarf in the Playground

    Join Date
    Sep 2011

    Default Re: Character Graveyard

    So I recently discovered the Paizo book Mythic Adventures and of course when that happens I start building a level 20 character just to goof off. To give myself aim I peruse through my folder of potential character portraits for divine inspiration. I ended up with this.

    tldr; My DM promised I'd never get to play this at the +72 to damage from Power Attack. I haven't even told him about the 1400 damage swing.

    Spoiler: Mythic Hijinks

    Image linking wasn't working.

    Human LG Fighter 20, Mythic Tier 10
    Str 28, Dex 14, Con 22, Int 14, Wis 14, Cha 13
    Initiative +26, Speed 40' (armored) or 60' base
    HP: 279 (MAX rolls would be 370)
    AC/Tch/FF: 21 / 11 / 20 (+10 Armor, +1 Dex, -5 ACP, 1 Max Dex)
    Save: Fort +18, Ref +8, Will +8
    CMB/CMD: +29 / +41, BAB 20/20/15/10
    Attack: Buster Sword + 35 (2d6+25, 17-20, x3)
    Special Attacks: Tear Apart, Blowback, Sweeping Strike, Fleet Charge, Shattering Strike, Overhand Chop, Backswing, Piledriver, Greater Power Attack, Devastating Blow
    Special Qualities: Seven-League Leap, Precision, Maximized Critical, Impossible Speed, Weapon Training, Weapon Mastery
    Skills: Acrobatics +22, Climb +32, Intimidate +24, Perception +22, Swim +32
    Feats: Power Attack, Cleave, Improved Initiative, Weapon Focus, Step Up, Great Cleave, Following Step, Vital Strike, Step Up and Strike, Quick Draw, Weapon Specialization, Improved Sunder, Improved Vital Strike, Critical Focus, Bleeding Critical, Staggering Critical, Blinding Critical, Greater Vital Strike, Critical Mastery, Stunning Critical, Tiring Critical, Exhausting Critical
    Mythic Feats: Cleave, Vital Strike, Power Attack, Improved Initiative, Weapon Specialization
    Equipment: Buster Sword, Folding Plate

    The Buster Sword is a major artifact created by taking the Legendary Item Universal Path ability at tiers 3, 6, and 10. Used by someone other than the creator the abilities unlock per tier occur in the order of Powerful, Unyielding, Everlasting, Dedicated Bond, Upgradable, Rejuvenating, Unstoppable Strike, Perfect Surge, Spellcasting, and Foe-biting. Spellcasting provides 1/day Hero's Drink (Greater Magic Weapon) and 1/day Protect (Shield of Faith). It otherwise functions as a +1 Keen Greatsword sized for a medium creature. It can only be destroyed by using it to cleave the heart of a planet's life force.

    Hijinks: It hits with 2d6+25 normally. Power Attack adds +14. Mythic Power attack increases this to 18. The +50% you get to this bonus from using a two-handed weapon increases this again to 27. The 100% bonus from Two-Handed Figher archetype instead increases this to +36. On a critical Mythic Power Attack doubles this to 72 before it reaches the weapon critical multiplier (which is x3 from Weapon Mastery) so this crits with 216 damage and 6d6 weapon damage dice maximized to 36. Then you add strength, enhancement, weapon training, and specialization.

    Greater Vital strike is a single attack that adds 6d6 weapon damage dice. Overhand chop means strength bonus is doubled. On a critical with Mythic Vital Strike Power Attack everything that is muliplied on a crit uses an x6 multiplier (number of weapon dice rolled from VS). My math is giving me around 700 damage. Then activate Foe-Biting to bump that to 1400.
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  14. - Top - End - #14
    Pixie in the Playground

    Join Date
    Oct 2013

    Default Re: Character Graveyard

    I have a LOT of characters that haven't make their way into a game yet. Some of them I still like the idea of and are still looking at from time to time, to either "fix" them or to see if they fit into the new game I'm going to play.

    The first one I will share are Richard Destomihr.
    Spoiler: Richard Destomihr
    Richard Destomihr goes by the name of The dancing Mage. This is due to in his younger years, he had found Boots of endure elements, but it turned out to be Boots of dancing. This forced him to dance when he was in melee combat, and after he was not in melee combat that often, he did not see it as a problem. In the end he learned to dance and he become more noncombatant then he should have been. Richard had been lawful good for most of his life, (except in his “childhood”), but after he began to research a way that he can avoid ending up in the nine hells, he had became to slide toward a more chaotic. The deal in the contract his ancestor had make was that when they die they will end up as a slave in the nine hells.
    Spoiler: Image
    (Sorry for the bad image, But had to take a image from the phone.)

    Spoiler: Character sheet
    Richard Destomihr CR 20
    Male human Warlock 3/Wizard 3/Eldritch Theurge 10/Archmage 4
    CG Medium humanoid (Human)
    Init +7; Senses darkvision 60 ft. See invisibility; Listen -3, Spot +4
    Languages Common, Elven, Dwarven, Undercommon, Draconic, Auran, Celestial, Abyssal, Infernal
    AC 28, touch 20, flat-footed 26 (+2 Dex, +4 deflection, +8 armor, +4 luck)
    hp 137 (20 HD); fast healing 2 (1/day, 2 minutes); DR 5/cold iron
    Immune sneak attack, Critical hit
    Fort +18, Ref +17, Will +27
    Weakness Noncombatant (-2 on melee attacks), Inattentive (-4 on listen & spot)
    Speed 30 ft. (6 squares), +10 (Boots of Winterlands & Springing, +2 squares); Fly 30ft. (good maneuverability, 6 squares)
    Ranged eldritch blast +16 (8d6 w/ Staff of Eldritch Power, else 6d6)
    Base Atk +12; Grp 12
    Atk Options Eldritch Spear, Brimstone Blast, Eldricth Cone, Vetrailie Blast, Spellblast, greatreach blast, Mastery of elements
    Special Actions detect magic, eldritch spellweave 7/day, Master of Counterspeller, Reactive Counterspell, Arcane Mastery
    Combat Gear Staff of Eldritch Power
    Wizard Spells Prepared (CL 20th; 1d20+26 to overcome SR):
    9th --- Dominate Monster (DC 30), Meteor Swarm (DC 30)
    8th --- Polar Ray, Greater Shadow EvocationM
    7th --- Banishment (DC 27), Avasculate (+14 ranged touch), Finger of Death
    6th --- Antimagic Field, Antimagic Field, Greater Dispel magic, Greater Dispel magic, Acid StormM, Summon Monster VI
    5th --- Teleport (DC 25), Lesser Ironguard, Greater fireblast (DC 26), Greater fireblast (DC 26)
    4th --- Leomund’s Secure Shelter, Orb of Acid (+14 ranged touch), Orb of Acid (+14 ranged touch), Detect Scrying✝, Ice Storm, Ice Storm
    3rd --- Dispel Magic, Phantom Steed, Summon Monster III, Fireball (DC 24), Fireball (DC 24), Vampiric Touch (+10 Melee touch)
    2nd ---Melf’s Acid Arrow (+14 ranged touch), Summon Monster II, Web, Fireburst (DC 23), Fireburst (DC 23), Scorching Ray (+14 ranged touch), Scorching Ray (+14 ranged touch)
    1st --- Shield, Shield, Lesser Orb of Cold (+14 ranged touch), Lesser Orb of Cold (+14 ranged touch),Burning Hands (DC 22), Magic Missile, Shocking Grasp (+10 Melee touch)
    0 --- Light, Ghost Sound, Disrupt Undead (+14 ranged touch), Prestidigitation
    Invocations (CL 14th; 1d20+20 to overcome SR):
    Greater --- Vetrailie Blast (Essence), Eldritch Cone (Shape), greatreach blast (Essence)
    Lesser --- Fell Flight✝, Brimstone Blast (Essence), Spellblast (Essence)
    Least --- Beguiling Influence✝, Otherworldy whippers✝, Eldricth Spear (Shape), See the unseen✝
    ✝Already Cast
    Abilities Str 10, Dex 14, Con 16, Int 30, Wis 12, Cha 18
    SQ High Arcana(Mastery of Elements, Master Counter speller, Spell power, Spell power), +1 on DC of Envocation and Enchantment.
    Feats Able Learner, Spell Focus(Envocation), Spell Focus(Enchantment), Skill Focus(Spellcraft), Imp. Initiative, Imp. Counterspell, Reactive Counterspell, Arcane Mastery, Spell Penetration, Greater Spell Penetration, Scribe Scroll, Summon familiar
    Skills Appraise +13, Bluff +23, Concentration +26,Craft(Alchemy) +20, Decipher Script +20, Diplomacy +23, Gather Information +9, Heal +6, Intimidate +12, Knowledge(Arcane) +37, Knowledge(Architecture and engineering) +15, Knowledge(Dungeoneering) +14, Knowledge(Geography) +15, Knowledge(History) +22, Knowledge(Local) +16, Knowledge(Nature) +15, Knowledge(Religion) +21, Knowledge(The Planes) +33, Listen -3, Perform(Dance) +12, Sense Motive +11, Spellcraft +38 (+40 to decipher scrolls), Spot +4, Survival +1 (+3 on other planes), Use Magic Device +18 (+20 scrolls)
    Possessions Vest of the Achmagi, Staff of the Eldritch Power, Mage Dueler’s Ring (Signetring), Cloak of Lucky Charisma, +4 Int Head Band, Protection +4, Bag of holding, Boots of Winterlands and Striding, Artificer’s Monocle, Bracers of Heavy Fortication, Spellbook, 7 notebooks/diary, Spell component pouch, Small Steel Mirror, Soap, Heal’s kit, Noble’s outfit + Jewelry, Alchemist’s lab, Hourglass, Ink & Inkpen, Sealing Wax, 325gp 5sp
    Spellbook 0 --- Acid Splash, Daze, Dancing lights, Light, Ray of Forst, Ghost Sound, Disrupt Undead, Mending, Amanuensis, Arcane Mark, Prestidigitation;
    1st --- Alarm, Endur Elemente, Shield, Grease, Mount, Unseen Servant, Comprehand Launguages, Detect Secret Doors, Detect Undead, IndentifyM, Charm Person, Lesser Orb of Cold, Burning Hands, Magic Missile, Shocking Grasp, Color Spray, Disguise Self, Nystul’s Magic Aura, Silent Image, Ray of Efeeblement, Animate Rope, Erase, Feather fall, Reduce Person;
    2nd --- Protection from Arrows, ArcaneLuckM, Resist Energy, Melf’s Acid Arrow, Summon Monster II, Web, Detect Thoughts, Fireburst, Scorching Ray, Shatter, Leomung’s TrapM, Magic Mouth, Mirror Image, Minor Image, Ghoul Touch, Bull’s Strength, Cat’s Grace, Eagle’s Splendor, Fox’s Cunning, Knock, Owl’s Wisdom, Rope Trick;
    3rd ---Disspell Magic, Explosive runes, Protection from Energy, Phantom Steed, Sepia Snake SigilM, Summon Monster III, Clairaudience, Arcane Sight, Tongues, Fireball, Lightning Bolt, Windwall, Ray of Exhaustion, Vampiric Touch, Blink, Fly, Hast, Secret page, Slow, Water Breathing;
    4th --- Dimensional Anchor, Lesser Globe of Invulnerability, Remove Curse, Leomund’s Secure Shelter, Orb of Acid, Summing Monster IV, Detect Scrying, ScryingF, Ice Storm, Wall of Fire, Polymorph;
    5th --- Summon Monster V, Teleport, Lesser Ironguard, Core of Cold, Greater Fireblast, Wall of Force, Baleful Polymorph, Fabricate, PermanencyX;
    6th --- Antimagic field, Greater Dispel Magic, Acid StormM, Summon Monster VI, Analyse DweomerF, Legend LoreMF, True SeeingM, Chain Lightning, Disintegrate;
    7th --- Banishment, Plane Shift, Greater Scrying, Emerald Flame Fist, Avasculate, Finger of Death, Limited WishX;
    8th --- Greater Planar Binding, Power Word Stun, Polar Ray, Greater Shadow EvocationM;
    9th --- GateX, Dominate Monster, Power Word Kill, Meteor Swarm, ShapechangeF, Time stop, WishX.
    Note: Richard does not keep a familiar. It had been slayed ones and he do not wish it to happen again.
    Hook “How Intriguing!”

    Vest of the Archmagi (MiC 145):
    +8 Armor B
    • onus
    • +5 Resistance Bonus
    • +2 enhancement Bonus to CL for Spell resistance
    • 3/day, Recall a casted spell.
    • At will/, Expand a spell to heal 5x spell-level in Hp

    200.000 gp

    Staff of Eldritch Power, lesser:
    • tion (50K gp)(DM234)
    • Greater fellpower (+2d6 to Eldritch blast)
    • Lesser Empower (3/day Empower a 3rd level spell or lower)
    • Lesser Maximize (3/day Maximize a 3rd level spell or lower)
    • Lesser Quicken (3/day Quicken a 3rd level spell or lower)
    • +2 Enhancement Attack rolls (For Eldritch blast)

    162.500 gp

    Mage Dueler’s Ring (Signetring):
    • Sustenance (2,5K)
    • Arcane Might (20K) (+1CL)
    • Evasion (25K)
    • Feather fall (2,2K)
    • Hand of the mage (0,9K)
    • Mind shielding (8K)
    • Persuasion (4,5K) (+3 on all Cha-based checks)

    81.150 gp

    Cloak of lucky Charisma, Improved:
    • +4 Charisma (16K)
    • +4 luck bonus on saves (32K)
    • +4 luck bonus on AC (32K)

    104.000 gp

    Manual of clear thinking +3(spent level 6)
    82.500 gp

    +4 Int head band (16K)
    Ring of Protection +4 (32K)
    Bag of holding (10K)
    Boots of... (7,75K)
    Artificer’s Monocle (1,5K) (MiC72)
    Spells w/ book (25,4K)
    Bracers of heavy fortification (25K)
    7x Books
    Spell component pouch 5gp
    Mirror, small steel 10gp
    soap 5sp
    Heal’s kit 50gp
    Noble’s outfit + jewelry 175gp
    Alchemist’s lab 500gp
    Hourglass 25gp
    Ink & inkpen 8gp
    Sealing wax 1gp

    I Just started with Richard, and arrived at a town where I helped with put out some fire at the church of Mystra, Where I met the other player, that was a cleric of Mystra. It was around here the game ended! -_-'
    Then there was talk about we should start the game up again. But that should be higher level Epic, so I maked a little moere the the story.

    Richard Destomihr, had researched a alternative way to free himself, and his family from the curse that make them warlocks. Which was to remake the contract. For this he needed a powerful spell, that could help him survive in the Nine Hells. This research let him to hellfire, which “corrupted” him, to CN. He was afraid that this wasn’t the end, so he left the martial plane to protect everyone else. On his way to the nine Hells he found a dead elver, on another plane, that also had searched about informations about the Nine Hells.
    A long time after, and many years in the Nine hells, battling demons and devils, at level 27 the last of his life! Where he finally have fought his way out of the Nine Hells, and found his way back to the martial plane, with help from his sister, Julia Destomihr.

    I don't have a Character sheet over him at that time, but had the "add on" levels and feats for him:
    Spoiler: 'Add on' Levels with new Items

    Level 21 - Warlock:
    • Deceive Item
    • Eldritch Blast 7d6
    • Epic feat -> Epic Spellcasting

    Level 22 - Hellfire Warlock
    • Hellfire Blast +2d6
    • +1 Invocation -> Eldritch Chain

    Level 23 - Hellfire Warlock
    • Hellfire Blast +4d6
    • Hellfire Infusion
    • Resistance to fire 10
    • Dark Invocation -> Eldritch Doom

    Level 24 - Hellfire Warlock
    • Hellfire Blast +6d6
    • Hellfire shield
    • Eldritch Blast 8d6
    • Epic Feat -> Eldritch Sculptor
    • +1 Invocation -> Eldritch Chain

    level 25 - Warlock or Eldritch Theurge
    • +1 Invocation -> Flee the scene

    level 26 - Warlock or Eldritch Theurge
    level 27 - Warlock or Eldritch Theurge
    • Eldritch Blast 9d6
    • +1 invocation -> Ptah of the shadow
    • Epic feat -> Dark Transient

    Staff of Eldritch Power, Greater:
    • Absorption (50K gp) (DM234) (50K)
    • Greater Fellpower (+2d6 to Eldritch blast) (9K)
    • Greater Empower (3/day Empower a 9th level spell or lower) (72K)
    • Greater Maximize (3/day Maximize a 9th level spell or lower) (121.5K)
    • Greater Quicken (3/day Quicken a 9th level spell or lower) (170K)
    • +2 Enhancement Attack rolls (For Eldritch blast) (2K)

    551.750 gp

    Bracers of Heavy Fortifiation:
    • Proof against Poison (27K)
    • Heavy fortification (25K)
    • Acid Resistance 10 (18K)

    91.500 gp

    Cloak of lucky Charisma, Greater:
    • +6 Charisma (36K)
    • +4 luck bonus on saves (32K)
    • +4 luck bonus on AC (32K)

    142.000 gp

    Telkiira, Improved:
    • +6 Intelligence (+2 more, equals +20K)
    • +4 Inside Will save
    • 10 Rank in
      • Diplomacy
      • Knowledge(Nature)
      • Knowledge(Religion)
      • Perform(Sing)
    • 200 pages of Spells
    • 10 times of 1 hour memory of an elf!
    • Only used by an elf.

    130.000 gp (+4int equals 100K)

    Gate Compass, Greater (PlH83)
    • Point at the desired destination


    Ring Gates, Planar (PlH83)
    • 5 feet Diameter ring, “wormhole” between the two rings

    200.000 gp

    Boots of... (15,75K)
    Cloud Wings (+8K)

    Mantle of Epic SR 40 (290K)
    Amulet of Natural armor +4 (16K)

    Spoiler: Julia Destomihr, Richard Destomihr's sister

    ulia are a sister to Richard Destomihr. I had tried to make a poem about her, instead of a story, and this are what I come up with. It’s still work in progress.

    Once servant of the nine hells
    Now only listen to Lurues tells.
    Once starter of the doomsday knells,
    Now only casting healing spells.
    Once with bandits she dwells,
    Now only sends them to their cells.

    Diseases she now hunt,
    them she will confront.
    Followers she now hunt,
    With them she will brunt.
    Followers, her they had hunt,
    From the time she was a runt.

    Julia with the healing hands,
    Now in the good light she stands.
    Julia the saviour she is in many lands,
    Hope to them she always grands.
    Julia what are your commands,
    We will do all what you demands.
    Spoiler: Character sheet, Work still in progress
    Julia Destomihr CR20
    CG Nedium humanoid (Human)
    Female human Warlock 2/Cleric 3/Eldritch Disciple 10/something with 5levels+
    God: Lurue (The Unicorn Queen)
    -- Str: 13 -> 13
    -- Dex: 10 -> 10
    -- Con: 13 -> 13
    -- Int: 14 -> 14
    -- Wis: 16 -> 17
    -- Cha: 18 -> 22
    Level : Class		|HD|Sk.|BAB|Fort|Ref|Will|War.CL|Clc.CL|Feats|Ab.|Turn|Special
     1: Warlock		|d6|+2 | 0 | +0 | 0 | +2 |  1st |   0  |  2  | 0 |  0 | Eldritch Blacst 1d6. Invocation(least). Invocations Known:1
     2: Cleric		|d8|+2 | 0 | +2 | 0 | +2 |   0  |  1st |  0  | 0 | 1st| Turn Undead. Domains(Good, Healing)
     3: Cleric		|d8|+2 |+1 | +1 | 0 | +1 |   0  |  2nd |  1  | 0 | 2nd|
     4: Cleric		|d8|+2 |+1 |  0 |+1 |  0 |   0  |  3rd |  0  | 1 | 3rd|
     5: Cleric		|d8|+2 |+1 | +1 | 0 | +1 |   0  |  4th |  0  | 0 | 4th|
     6: Eldritch Disciple	|d8|+2 | 0 | +2 | 0 | +2 |  2nd |   0  |  1  | 0 | 5th| Turn Undead. Gift of the Patron(Healing Blast).
    			|  |   |   |    |   |    |      |      |     |   |    | Invocations Known:1
     7: Eldritch Disciple	|d8|+2 |+1 | +1 | 0 | +1 |  3rd |  5th |  0  | 0 | 6th| Eldritch Blacst 2d6. Invocations Known:2
     8: Eldritch Disciple	|d8|+2 |+1 |  0 |+1 |  0 |  4th |  6th |  0  | 1 | 7th|
     9: Eldritch Disciple	|d8|+2 |+1 | +1 | 0 | +1 |  5th |  7th |  1  | 0 | 8th| Eldritch Blacst 3d6. Invocations Known:3
    			|  |   |   |    |   |    |      |      |     |   |    | Gift of the Patron(Damage Reduction)
    10: Eldritch Disciple	|d8|+2 | 0 |  0 | 0 |  0 |  6th |  8th |  0  | 0 | 9th| Invocation(least, lesser, greater).
    			|  |   |   |    |   |    |      |      |     |   |    | Eldritch Spellweave
    11: Eldritch Disciple	|d8|+2 |+1 | +1 |+1 | +1 |  7th |  9th |  0  | 0 |10th| Eldritch Blast 4d6. Invocations Known:4
    12: Eldritch Disciple	|d8|+2 |+1 |  0 | 0 |  0 |  8th | 10th |  1  | 1 |11th| Gift of the Patron(Protective Aura)
    13: Eldritch Disciple	|d8|+2 |+1 | +1 | 0 | +1 |  9th | 11th |  0  | 0 |12th| Eldritch Blast 5d6. Invocations Known:5
    14: Eldritch Disciple	|d8|+2 | 0 |  0 |+1 |  0 | 10th | 12th |  0  | 0 |13th| Invocations Known:6
    15: Eldritch Disciple	|d8|+2 |+1 | +1 | 0 | +1 | 11th | 13th |  1  | 0 |14th| Eldritch Blast 6d6. Invocation(least, lesser, greater).
     			|  |   |   |    |   |    |      |      |     |   |    | Invocations Known:7. Gift of the Patron(Fiendish Resistarnce)
    			|  |   |   |    |   |    |      |      |     |   |    | Timeless Body
    16: Hierophant		|d8|+4 |+1 | +2 | 0 | +2 |   0  |  +Cl |  0  | 1 |  0 | Special Ability(Master of Energy)
    17: Hierophant		|d8|+4 | 0 | +1 | 0 | +1 |   0  |  +CL |  0  | 0 |  0 | Special Ability(Divine Reach)
    18: Hierophant		|d8|+4 |+1 |  0 |+1 |  0 |   0  |  +CL |  1  | 0 |  0 | Special Ability(Faith Healing)
    19: Hierophant		|d8|+4 | 0 | +1 | 0 | +1 |   0  |  +CL |  0  | 0 |  0 | Special Ability(Master of Energy)
    20: Enlightened Spirit	|d6|+2 | 0 |  0 | 0 | +2 |   0  |   0  |  0  | 1 |  0 | Aura of Courage. Aura of Menace. Spriti Blast(Essence)
    Total:		        |--|+54|+12|+15 |+5 |+19 |------|------|  8  | 5 |----|
    HD: 2d6+18d8+mod(con)
    Warlock caster level: 11th
    Cleric caster level: 13th (cast as a 17th)
    Turn Undead: 14th level. Get +10 on Turn checks(+2 from Knowledge), & +8 on turn dmg.
    Skill Name		| Total |Ab.|Rank |Misc.|
    Bluff			|       |Cha|  +7 |+6   |
    Concentration		|       |Con| +23 |     |	MAX
    Diplomacy		|       |Cha| +22 |6+2+2|-1	MAX
    Heal			|       |Wis| +10 |     |-1-1	½
    Intimidate		|       |Cha|  +0 |+6+2 |
    knowledge(Nature)	|       |Int| +10 |     | 
    Knowledge(Religion)	|       |Int| +23 |     |	MAX
    Knowledge(The Planes)	|       |Int|  +8 |     |-4	some
    Sense Motive		|       |Wis| +10 |     |-4	½
    Spellcraft		|       |Int| +10 |     |	MAX
    Total			|-------|---|+111 |-----|--
    Turn Undead:
    -- 3+cha.mod/day (+8 from extra turning feats)
    -- 60ft area around self, with line of effect. 1d20+mod(cha) for max HD undead that can be turned.
    -- Turning dmg: 2d6+(cleric level)+mod(cha)+Master of energy(8) HD of undead that can be turned.
    -- Duration: 10 rounds (1min), as long you don't come within 10ft of them.
    -- If have twice as many levels as taget undead have HD, they are destroyed instead of turned.
    Special Ability:
    -- Master of Energy: +4 Bonus on turning checks & turning dmg.
    -- Divine Reach: Touch spells on targets up to 30ft away, and can make melee touch into ranged touch.
    -- Faith Healing: Healing subschool are free maximized, it cast on someone with same alignment.
    -- Transdimensional Spell [Metamagic] - Affect incorporeal, ethereal and shadow creatures
    -- Scred Healing [Divine] - Turn Undead, & heal 8Rank- Allies gain fasthealing 3 for 1+mod(cha) rounds, for 1 Turn use.
    -- Extra turning - Turn Undead - Turn 4 more time per day (PH94)
    -- Leadership - Gets followers(DM106)
    -- Battle Caster - Can cast spell in a armor one size category heavier. (From Light to medium)
    -- Extra Invocation (Cold Comfort)
    -- Extra turning - Turn Undead - Turn 4 more time per day (PH94)
    -- Weapon Proficiency(Long Sword?)
    Have them? Feats:
    -- Improved Flight - From good to perfect (CmAv 110)
    -- Sacred Boost - 60ft area from you, all healing spells are maximized for one round, for one turn use.
    ---- Beguiling Influence
    ---- See the Unseen
    ---- Call of the Beast (wild empathy ability as a druid of your warlock level)
    ---- Fell Flight (Make it like "Celestial flight")
    ---- Voidsense 
    ---- Baneful Blast(Undead) (Essence)(+2d6)
    ---- Cold Comfort (30ft from & on self)
    ---- Devour Magic (If Divine Reach works on it else, Vitriolic Blast(Essence))
    Amulet of Retributive Healing (MIC):
    3/day heal yourself for as much as you healed an ally. Helps spread the healing around, especially if somebody casts Shield Other on you. 2,000gp.
    Armband of Maximized Healing (MIC):
    3/day your next healing spell of 6th level or lower is maximized. Very cheap for the effect. This can make in-combat healing worthwhile for another level or two. 7,200gp
    Circlet of Solace (MIC):
    3/day next healing spell also grants +5 on various saving throws for 1 minute 3,000gp

    Then I have a mom I had make for a Sun elf character of mine.
    Spoiler: Lady Arsha

    Me Character is a basted-child. He was 'make' the day before the night before the wedding of Lady Arsha and another high born sun elf noble. It was a true love between them. But on the wedding day the groom was killed.
    This resulted in they never got married. So the child was doomed to be banished on his 100 years birthday. She was the only child of the Arsha family, adn her and her dad was the last left of the family. So as a demonstration Lady Arsha joined the military, and said she never wanted to get married, to try to force her dad (A Elven high mage), to use all his power to overturn that judgment.
    Spoiler: She will be looking something like this.

    Spoiler: Character sheet
    Lady Arsha (Amaess Arsha) (Baelaltis Arsha Lafutae's Mother)
    Age:207(Yes she was young.)
    Height: 5'11''
    Weight: 102 lb.
    Eyes: Green
    Hair: Golden blond
    Skine: Bronze-like
    (86 points)
    Str 10
    Dex 16 (+4 -> 20 (+5))
    Con 12
    Int 22 (+2 -> 26 (+7))
    Wis 10
    Cha 16 (+2 -> 20 (+4))
    Class			|BAB|F |R|W| HD	|Skill	| Special
    1st Washbuckler	 	| +1|2 |0|0|d10	|Int+4	| +1 feat, Weapon Finesse
    2nd Warmage		| +0|0 |0|2| d6	|Int+2	| +1 CL, Armored mage(ligt), Warmage edge
    3rd Washbuckler		| +1|1 |0|0|d10	|Int+4	| +1 feat, Grace +1
    4th Warmage		| +1|0 |0|1| d6	|Int+2	| +1 Ability score(Int), +1 CL
    5th Washbuckler		| +1|0 |1|1|d10	|Int+4	| Insightful strike
    6th Warmage		| +0|1 |1|0| d6	|Int+2	| +1 feat, +1 CL, Advanced Learing(Jet of Steam (1st)(CM108))
    7th Warmage		| +1|0 |0|1| d6	|Int+2	| +1 CL
    8th Warmage		| +0|0 |0|0| d6	|Int+2	| +1 Ability score(Int), +1 CL
    9th Fighter		| +1|2 |0|0|d10	|Int+2	| +1 fighter feat, +1 feat
    10th Bladesinger	| +1|0 |2|2| d8	|Int+2	| +1 CL, Bladesong style
    11th Eldritch Knight	| +1|2 |0|0| d6	|Int+2	| +1 fighter feat
    12th Eldritch Knight	| +1|1 |0|0| d6	|Int+2	| +1 feat, +1 CL
    13th Warmage		| +1|1 |1|1| d6	|Int+2	| +1 CL, Advanced Learing(Burning Sword(2rd)(SpC41))
    Total:			|+10|10|5|8|94HP|  130	| +5 feat, +2 fighter feats, +2 Int Ability Score, 8CL
    ------------======< Skills >======------------
    Ranks +Ability | Skill Name
    5 +Dex(3) | Balance
    16+Con(1) | Concentration
    5 +Cha(3) | Diplomacy
    7 +Str(0) | Jump
    6 +Dex(3) | Tumble
    16 +Int(6) | Knowledge (Arcane)
    5 +Int(6) | Knowledge (History)
    5 +Int(6) | Knowledge (Noble)
    6 +Cha(3) | Perform (Dance)
    5 +Cha(3) | Perform (Sing)
    14 +Wis(0) | Profession (Military)(There are nothing like this, It's History)
    5 +Wis(0) | Sence Motive
    16 +Int(6) | Spellcraft

    ------===< Feats >===------
    1st-level Combat Casting(+4)
    3rd-level Combat Expertise (From toHit to AC,1to1)
    6th-level Dodge (+1 dodge bonus to AC)
    9th-level Weapon Focus(Rapier) (+1 to hit)
    9th-level Practiced Spellcaster(Warmage)
    11th-level Extrotic Weapon Proficiency(Elven Thinblade Sword)
    12th-level Leadership

    Items: (110.000gp in total)

    ------====< Armor >===------
    Breastplate 200gp, +5AC, Max Dex+3, Check Penalty -5, 25%AFS, 20ft, 30lb.

    Glassteel Breastplate:
    Light armor. 6.200gp
    +5 AC, Max Dex +5, Check Penalty -2, 15%AFS, 30ft, 15lb.
    + 1 bonus (1000 gp)
    + 2.000gp Called
    + 2.000gp Commander (+2 to Diplomacy, +1 morale will save for allies within 30ft.)

    Armor -> 11.200gp
    ------===< Weapon >===------
    Elven Thinblade Sword 100gp, 1d8, 18-20/x2, 3lb Piercing
    Classteel Elven Thinblade Sword:
    600gp, 1d8, 18-20/x2, 1.5lb Piercing

    32.000gp (+4bonus):
    - +1 Echamment
    - +1 Keen (15-20/x2)
    - +2 Vampiric (1d6)

    ------====< Cloak >===------
    Cloak of Charisma +2
    4,000 gp

    ------====< Head >====------
    Headband of Intellect +2
    4,000 gp

    ------===< Gloves >===------
    Gloves of Dexterity +4
    16,000 gp

    ------====< Misc >====------
    Wizardry (II) 40.000gp
    Healing Belt 750gp - one target. MC110
    Everlasting Rations 350gp
    Water skin
    Pen & ink

    Book of Communication
    • Used as "diary", and this is one of two books linked together (The two become copy of each other if on the same plane). Her son have the other one.
    • Home make.


    I haven't make the Dad yet. But some day, I will start a post, to get help to make him and get some good ideas! =)

    I could give you a lot more. But it takes too much time to write them into the computer!
    So the pacifistic Focused Illusionist/Adjuration specialist, much come another day! =)
    (And He still need a little more work, to be proper useful.)

  15. - Top - End - #15
    Troll in the Playground
    RFLS's Avatar

    Join Date
    Feb 2012
    Spring, TX

    Default Re: Character Graveyard

    Khaju Tsiksik, kobold sorcadin and illusion master. Strictly followed code of conduct, a love of pranks, and the willingness to give people a second chance. One. I've submitted him to a variety of games on the forums, only to watch other characters be selected over him or for the game to die out due to a completely incompetent DM. The first time I submitted him, a dozen characters were submitted over him, many of them lacking a backstory (because the DM thought they were "cool"). The DM then completely flaked on both groups almost immediately (which was marginally satisfying, I suppose).

    I'm still a little sour >.> The character is cursed.

  16. - Top - End - #16
    Titan in the Playground
    drack's Avatar

    Join Date
    Nov 2006
    warming your deathbed

    Default Re: Character Graveyard

    Yup I have a character like that that I've been meaning to get into a game. The game I made him for died, though I haven't really given up on him yet. He's a goblin named Schmuzly, which is short for Osheric Henderson Glugralhanckenschmuzly, a good strong goblin name. I think I liked his character more then his fluff though. He was one of those guys who can't sit still for five minuets without pranking someone, and pranking the party isn't beneath him.

    I'm sure you'll forgive me skipping ahead a bit, after all I hardly see the need for five pages of buildup with unicorns and rainbows for the birth of someone who's obviously going to become a side character of some sort...
    ..."and on that glorious day Osheric Henderson Glugralhanckenschmuzly (gl-ug-r-al-ha-k-en-sh-muz-ly or glurg-hack-en-schmuzly) was born. It was a normal birth all things considered, and..." Again I think I'm going to need to skip ahead, how many chapters has this author devoted to the upbringing of this character?
    ..."By then most people who knew him called him Schmuzly. Schmuzly the goblin, so fitting for so cunning a trickster, so daring a fool. For the one to whom this whole story is owed..." OK, OK, lets skip to the important part, I mean I came here to read you the famed story of a hero, not the sorry tale of a forgotten goblin. "..."And so Schmuzly lifted the sword tenderly, and presented it to the greatest legend for ages to come. The greak Gurk. Later in Schmuzly's life he would reflect on the great spendor of that moment, for not only had he rid himself of the great evil of the Sword of Arcodin. The Next day Schmuzly ate a stale turkey sandwich flavored with fresh wart puss and bogon guts to commemorate his accomplishment." What kind of crap is this?!
    With a thud the heavy tomb hit the floor, and the disgruntled wizard looked up to see several hundred of Schmuzly's decedents staring at him over the scrawny shoulders of a decrepit old goblin. What exactly is "crap" about my story?
    It's all about this little goblin that nobody cares about, that's what. the wizard returned, his words crisp, and his eyes ice.
    I demand you take that back! I lived every second of that book, and being a goblin only makes my role all that much more important!
    The wizard laughed a dark laugh. Old fool, your writing is bland, and by the look of you you're well past death's door. Go die somewhere quietly, and leave adventuring to real knights, real mages, real heroes.

    And so old Schmuzly returned to the world, playing dastardly tricks on everyone he met, but even after two thousand years of pranks he still couldn't tear the wizard's barbed words from his thoughts. One day he decided I'll show that young pup what adventuring's about. I'd be the best hero ever adventured if I wanted to! Why I bet that not one in... all of them! could compare to me. How hard can it be after all?

    Last edited by drack; 2013-11-18 at 02:46 PM.
    That mystical swirling of multicolored leaves as they dance in the air, that fresh fall smell, the perfect weather that makes you feel so very alive. You can almost forget that you're watching dead tissue accumulate as winter claims the world and floods it with the calming scent of death.

  17. - Top - End - #17
    Ogre in the Playground
    Ruethgar's Avatar

    Join Date
    Sep 2011
    Austin TX

    Default Re: Character Graveyard

    Mortal Gods(AKA templated to hell and back)
    Dænte- Warrior
    Dænte used mostly third party templates to make a strong melee combatant. The story behind his people was that they killed their gods and consumed their divine essence, imbuing future generations with increased, size, strength and speed, resilience against death, and the searing breath of the desert. It stretched definitions that weren't really able to be stretched, but it didn't turn out too powerful, the 21 level racial class was maybe T3. It was mostly the idea of the people that I liked and didn't focus on crunch much apart from spacing out his abilities over the course of his massive LA.

    Auran- Ice
    Auran used a lot of things of questionable legality to make a character concept happen that would have been a lot easier to do as an arcane swordsage. He focused on the poor wording of a third party book to be able to use Speak High Draconic with great ease. He gestated mostly dragonfire adept and a highly modified sorcerer(Stalwart, Battle, Draconic, Dragon Sorcerer with Divine Receptacle:Planning), with exmplar thrown in to take ten on high draconic. He used shenanigans to get a massive number of feats at level one including Vow of Poverty and a slew of metamagic, metabreath(official and 3rd party) and draconic feats. Speak high draconic allowed him to make a skill check to add metamagic for free. The dragon sorcerer variant allowed him to use spell-like ability casts per day as spell slots of equal level, gestalting DFA of course made this infinite and up to 9th level spells. The stalwart and battle sorcerer were just to give him a bit more health and lessen his now substantial power, divine receptacle was for a bonus feat. He also used the dark giant trick. And to top it all off he was a cheesewrought kobold.

    But for all his cheese, his intended play style was weak. He used cantrips and metamagic to create neat effects that didn't have much power. For example, a frost aura that made it 40 degrees around you constantly(cold casting anyone?) and had the ability to hit everyone in 30ft with a ray of frost with concentration(reflex for half unless you were within 10ft then auto-hit) or create ice planes with concentration. Another one let you make an ice wall small enough for a small creature to get full cover. Or breathing out an entangling plane of ice that dealt frost and fire damage to those within. A bit on the high side of power at level one, but that one also had a 40% chance of failure. Most all of his power came from being a dragonfire adept, the sorcerer was there only to get a select few thematic spells and as a backup breath weapon with infinite draconic breath.

    I really liked this guy, and tried to recreate him without third party, but it never really worked out as I wanted.

    Micheal- Charmer
    This guy was a custom fey race. The race was all male to counter the typically all female nymphs, sirens, and dryads and they could fascinate anyone who looked at them or heard them sing. On top of that I added a slew of other templates like, Fey-Kissed, Fey Kissed, Half- Fey, Enchanted and Half-Nymph to make him a beautiful, charming man. I added the vexing voice and pheromone attraction mutations and then he took leadership and all of the feats that boost it from the quintessential aristocrat. He pretty much just talked his way out of anything and I won't go into detail, but he was skilled with the BoEF which would have made it potentially awkward to play in game.

    Arcane Wonders
    Alex- Fire Hand
    I've always loved produce flame, and this guy is the master of that spell. This used innate spell, chaos shuffle, and metamagic feats to pull it off. Considering that spell slot =/= spell level, innate spell becomes pretty potent. Obviously not RAI but who cares about that? Almost all of Alex's feats were spend on metamagic but the focus was on thrown weapons, throwing at many of those fireballs as possible in one round. It got a bit ridiculous how high his damage potential became to the point where I decided I didn't really need that much and just keep him around for fun.

    Allcaster- He Casts All
    STP Erudite Chameleon, need I say more? Never really wanted to play him, just wanted it stated out for fun. A little high on power for me, especially with the war spells. Originally he was intended to be a creator, a war wall of stone could create a pretty sizable building.

    Zhesue- Soul
    More use of Speak High Draconic, however this time focusing on one spell, Manifest Life. Added metamagic to high heaven and was pretty much just suppose to use it like an eldritch blast. There was a lower level hombrew version, plus healing touch which were both included as substitutes for the lower levels. The AoE vampiric aura was one of my favorite features of this character, it was only 1 health per round of concentration in a 30ft burst, but it was still neat. Unlike the frost dragon above, Zhesue used a third party feat to get infinite spells, Blood Power. It drained his own health to cast spells instead of using his very limited spell slots. It made it weaker in general, but it also seemed to fit well with someone whose primary ability is to steal people's life force.

    There are a lot more but those are some of my favorites.

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