Godlings, Whispers in the Void [3.5, recruiting, seeking players]

[BelGareth]

Godlings, Whispers in the Void

In the shadowed lands of Eldoris, where hope is a flickering candle in the relentless dark, an ancient and foreboding prophecy has stirred. It speaks of a cosmic balance, a force unyielding and cruel, that ensures no being, mortal or divine, can transcend their destined role without consequence. The time of reckoning whispered in those ancient verses has come to pass.

You were nothing but pawns, slaves bound in chains, living a bleak existence under a merciless regime. Your lives were a series of hardships, a symphony of suffering and despair. But in the darkest depths of your captivity, something extraordinary and terrifying occurred.

Far across the land, obscured by the mists of secrecy, a cabal of Kar-Gul sorcerers delved into forbidden rites. They sought to usurp the heavens, to steal the essence of the gods themselves. However, their blind ambition tore a rift in the fabric of reality, unleashing a cataclysmic backlash.

As the unseen energies of this cosmic upheaval swept across Eldoris, they found you. Inexplicably, you and a select few were ensnared in its eldritch embrace. When the dust settled, you awoke to a newfound horror. You were changed, imbued with powers that are as terrifying as they are potent.

But such gifts are a curse. In this darkened world, you are not alone in your transformation. Others have been touched by this otherworldly power - entities that now seek to extinguish all rival godlings to preserve their own ascension.

As you stand at the precipice of this nightmare, you are faced with dire choices. Will you use your dreadful powers to attempt a liberation of your brethren, embarking on a path of vengeance and rebellion? Or will you delve into the shadows, defending yourself against the malevolent godlings who believe the only path to supremacy lies over your lifeless bodies?

Your journey will be one of horror and despair. You will traverse cursed lands, confront abominations born from the darkest corners of the imagination, and uncover secrets that threaten to unravel the very fabric of your sanity. Trust is a scarce commodity, and every ally could be a potential foe.

Welcome to "Whispers in the Void," a campaign where the line between hero and monster is blurred. Your every decision will echo through the annals of this accursed world. Will you emerge as a beacon of defiance against the encroaching darkness, or will you be consumed by the very powers that you now wield?

Steel your nerves, for you are about to embark on a journey where horror lurks in every shadow, and the very essence of terror courses through your veins. Are you prepared to face the nightmares of Eldoris?

In the shadowed halls of time untold,

Where whispers speak of truths so bold,

A prophecy of ancient birth,

Foretells a shift upon the earth.

"When mortals dare to touch the sky,

And grasp at powers far too high,

A cosmic scale shall then impose,

A balance 'midst their highs and lows.

From depths of darkness, light shall rise,

In weakest forms, it dons disguise.
But heed this warning, those who yearn,

For unchecked power fiercely burns.

The rift shall tear both night and day,

Unleashing forces none can sway.

Gods and mortals, intertwined,

In their fate, the world's defined.

Chaos born from hubris' seed,

Shall find its match in mortal deed.

For every force that seeks to climb,

A counter rises in due time.

In shadows deep and whispers low,

The seeds of future fate we sow.

The balance shifts, the scales align,

In hearts of men, the gods' design."

So spoke the seers, old and wise,

Beneath the dark, foreboding skies.

In words of power, truth, and fear,

The prophecy remains clear.

A balance sought in realms unseen,

In this world, a new demesne.

A tale of power, dark and bright,

Unfolds beneath the starlit night.

Character generation
Write a fitting backstory, doesn't have to be long at all that will make me fall in love with your character.

I will choose from among these, and then when we move to the OOC, I will present players with the char gen rules (which will be fluid, and loosely based on 3.5, a kind of create your own class, aim for 3rd level)

This game will be played in Discord for both the IC and OOC.

[dantiesilva]

Will it be text based discord or us all getting together and talking, as I can apply for the text but if it is calls I wish you all luck

[AvatarVecna]

Clarification on the chargen process:

1) Create a character backstory.
2) See chargen mech.
3) Pick powers.

or

1) Create a character backstory, including general power set.
2) See chargen mech.

That is to say, should I give an idea of the kind of powerset I'm aiming for in my write-up, or just focus on the person for now, and hold off on thinking about powers until I see the mech rules?

[BelGareth]

Will it be text based discord or us all getting together and talking, as I can apply for the text but if it is calls I wish you all luck

Asynchronous text based.

Clarification on the chargen process:

1) Create a character backstory.
2) See chargen mech.
3) Pick powers.

or

1) Create a character backstory, including general power set.
2) See chargen mech.

That is to say, should I give an idea of the kind of powerset I'm aiming for in my write-up, or just focus on the person for now, and hold off on thinking about powers until I see the mech rules?

first option. Focus on the person first.

[dantiesilva]

Devin and Oriana were two siblings born to simple fishers. Neither was anything to look at, even by the fishing villages standpoint and would often find themselves in trouble growing up. Devin was more of a bookish type, much to the dismay of his parents who were not educated and thus could not help him in most regards. However they always supported their son. Oriana was strong and a great swimmer. While her brother would often be trying to identify a fish and write about it she would instead be helping her parents bringing in their haul to sell as well as their next meal in most cases.

Growing up the two were close but eventually Devin was noticed by a traveling wizard passing through town and the wizard took him on as an apprentice, his parents being paid a single gold piece for him. While his sister protested she was young and could do nothing to stop this from happening as it was what was best for the family to survive e. What they failed to realize was this wizard was in fact a necromancer who had just lost his last apprentice due to "unforseen" circumstances.

For the next fourteen years the two siblings grew apart, Oriana eventually took over most of the more difficult tasks when it came to fishing for her parents while Devin went on to become a decent magician in his own right. While he learned a great deal from his mentor, he never shared the old man's ideals when it came to necromancy and instead saw it as a tool to help the living better their lives, so when a party of adventures came and attacked his mentor he helped them to rid the world of one more evil.

He stuck around the party for a short time after that, however his practices didn't always align with their ideals and so the group went there separate ways, and this is where we find young Devin. On his way back to his home town to see his parents and sister again.

[BelGareth]

Just a few things:

Most slaves are humans, in fact, ALL Humans are slaves and have been for decades.
The big bad guys who rule the world are Orcs. All other races fall somewhere in between, the less violent they are, the more chance they are a slave.

[dantiesilva]

Just a few things:

Most slaves are humans, in fact, ALL Humans are slaves and have been for decades.
The big bad guys who rule the world are Orcs. All other races fall somewhere in between, the less violent they are, the more chance they are a slave.

Okay, I'll just make the siblings poisondusk lizardfolk if that's okay then. Still works decently well, and would explain the fishing. Though I'm also fine with them being human slaves. Would explain why his parents were illiterate and how he was sold. Plus I planned on his sister dying/being dead when he found her and him using necromancy to make her his first minion so either way works for me.

[BelGareth]

Okay, I'll just make the siblings poisondusk lizardfolk if that's okay then. Still works decently well, and would explain the fishing. Though I'm also fine with them being human slaves. Would explain why his parents were illiterate and how he was sold. Plus I planned on his sister dying/being dead when he found her and him using necromancy to make her his first minion so either way works for me.

works for me

[AvatarVecna]

Life among goblins tends to be brutal.

For those that ripped and tore their way to the top, they surrounded themselves with other capable warriors, because to trust incompetent nothings to watch your back is to die. But they always had to keep one eye open when they slept, for such warriors would covet their position, and be more capable than any other of stealing it away with one quiet slice of the blade. For those at the bottom, your life was currency. You lived to die for whatever cause your chieftain or warlord desired. You and your horde of brethren throw yourself at problems until eventually they are solved, and whoever's left is rewarded with slightly tastier slop.

Vogun was not a normal goblin, for he was smart. He was not academically-trained, of course, but he was savvy, and clever, and kept a lot of thoughts to himself that could get him in trouble. He had no intention of becoming some great warlord and getting stabbed by his own allies, and he had no intention of throwing himself onto the blades of enemies either. He sought a role where he could be useful enough to not be fodder, but not dangerous enough to be a threat to his superiors. And so Vogun sought to learn how to cook. He kept his head down, figured out how to turn disgusting ingredients into halfway decent food, and helped keep the chieftain's tribe fed whenever they marched to war. He'd had close calls here and there when the fighting was going poorly or the chieftain got a bit too drunk, but nothing that did more than leave a scar.

And thus does Vogun...well, not live, but survive. It frustrates Vogun how locked down his life is, how little room for error there is. He's not even really sure what he would want out of life if survival was assured, because he's never really had much opportunity to think about it. There's always the threat that if he's not good enough at what he's doing, those in charge will decide he's more useful helping build the ramp of bodies that will let the chieftain ride over enemy walls. There is safety in the kitchen, as shoddy as it is, but it's the safety of a fragile cage. Vogun will live his full life, but he will never have more than he has right now. Even the fodder, for all that they die, have more upward mobility than he does, as occasionally survivors will become battle-hardened enough to serve more important roles in this week's conquest.

[Darius Vibrtrar]

The three of us have always been together. My mother. Myself, and my daughter. My father was sold off.... and so was my husband. But we three have been able to stay together. On a cold winter night is when the nightmare began. We were cuddled on the same straw bed beneath old woolen quilts, and eldritch energy found us... gripping me first, but the three of us refused to be separated. We held each other tight and the nightmarish energy took hold of all three of us. Three became one that night, forged into a single nightmarish entity. LADY, WOMAN, CRONE. Forged like some hag mimicry. Able to see beyond the now, vision beyond sight. I.... no.... we ran into the night, to learn what we are, what we have become.

[Archemist]

Roland is just a normal guy. As a slave, he chopped wood and made everything from stockades and catapults down to wooden spoons and cups for the masters. He hated the way he was forced to take perfectly serene and beautiful forests and hew them down into bleak stumps.

He had a wife, and kids, but they ended up being forcefully separated from each other and he hasn't seen them for years. Everything good he's ever had or made was taken from him.

He discovered his new powers when he blacked out one day and awoke to find the stack of firewood next to him had all sprouted fresh leaves. He went to pick up his axe and the handle also blossomed into a bouquet as he touched it. His iron chains rusted instantly under his touch as well. Roland's nearby overseer soon found himself impaled on a stand of newly-grown bamboo. Another exploded into a flurry of colorful petals, as Roland smiled, for the first time in a long while.

[Dakrsidder]

If it’s not too much trouble, could you elaborate a little on the create your own class bit? I’m just a bit curious as to what it entails

[Ancient]

It was all a simple twist of fate really. Varag is a half-blood, an unclean thing born from his orcish mother's tryst with a human gladiator. Her clan's house discarded the refuse to the very arena that eventually killed his father. While he was originally slated to serve as a snack in one of the beast pits, the fates had one of the gambling princes take interest in him. He was taken on as a scribe. his daily existance dependent on the whim of his master. He watched people bet on all sort of things, gamblers would bet on the weather, drops of rain running down a window, who won, who died, you name it. While he witnessed that most often skill triumphed, sometimes chance was stronger, but luck seemed to favor the prepared mind. Once, he even took a bet as to whether the sorcerers of Kar-Gul would succeed in their mad quest to usurp the gods...

[Ilerien]

The Raven, both his friends and enemies called him. The raven on the sky blue field of his crest used to fly to the left. "Against the wind", stated his motto.
He had fought to the very bitter end, the people loyal to his house dying to the orcish weapons around him. Captured, bound, beaten within an inch of his life. He thought himself prepared for everything his captors could throw at him. He was mistaken, oh how he was mistaken...
Fast forward decades, nobody would recognize the pathetic creature dressed in rags, afraid of sunlight, whimpering and groveling before his immortal master. Face of his wife, laughter of his children, even his own name - everything has been fading until nothing remained except the tormented unliving creature they still called the Raven.

And then the chains have been shattered. Gideon Eiluned, the last Raven, was spreading his wings. Against the wind.

[LairdMaon]

There are times when a slave is required to do things loathsome, and then there are slaves who are kept for the sole purpose of such loathsome duties.

Wult was such a slave. As krinth were already slaves from nearly the beginning of their existence, his masters took pleasure in giving Wult the most soul-crushing tasks they could come up with. When he showed a certain skill at enacting violence and the durability to see it through, he was made the primary tool of punishment for the slaves closest to him.

Anger and hatred for his masters was a constant in his life. Impotence to strike them down merely added to his fury.

So he waited. For what, he did not know.

[Tyrann]

His gut groaned in revolt, a longing hollow echo for the meager rations still clenched in his hand—the weight of the stale bread bearing down, almost as heavy as the burden on his heart as he witnessed a big lizard mugging a little girl.

Fighting the lizard was out of the question; that was a battle doomed from the start. Though he stood as a reasonably formidable figure among his fellow slaves, there were rules to this arena. Whether the scuffle revolved around food or any other matter, roughly 10 seconds were granted before the guards would intervene. The aftermath was seldom pretty: it often meant a brutal retaliation, particularly for the aggressor, and the looming threat of a slow demise due to sustained injuries.

Every slave understood this unspoken code, ensuring only the truly feeble succumbed to overt bullying. Still, those of his kind - slaves who, on principle, abstained from pilfering even when possessing the strength to do so when the opportunity arose - were a minority. The lizard, well aware of this, shot him a toothy grin upon catching his eye. He sighed, inwardly cursing at himself for being too late. The food was already gone, and so, stomach moaning, he resigned himself to enduring the pangs of hunger later. He sulked over, squatted down, and, with evident effort, forced a smile onto his face. Offering half of his bread to the girl, he kept the more petrified portion for himself. In response, all he received was a timid look and an almost inaudible "thank you." Yet, somehow, his own share seemed to taste better than ever.

---

The pick smashed into the unyielding rock, a metallic clang echoing into the darkness. Dust mingled with the acrid taste of sweat on his lips, shrouding his face in yet another layer of grime and soot.

The shaft was new, the impenetrable black void the same as ever. In the abyss, illumination was forbidden, so the proximity of fellow slaves had to be navigated - and toes kept - by the sounds of metal hitting stone, neighboring breaths, clinking chains, and the sporadic crack of a whip admonishing those that forgot to work just hard enough, or the collapse of those that had forgotten to work no harder.

He persisted and endured, albeit on the thinnest thread. He had lost track of the times he had daydreamed about breaching a tunnel that plunged just too deep, unearthing ancient terrors concealed in the dormant shadows below. In such reveries, he would linger on the precipice of survival just long enough to see malevolent darkness tearing the orcs apart. Limbs were rent, and the air thickened with the sickening symphony of violence, until the darkness, satiated with carnage, finally embraced him, offering the release of sweet oblivion.

In grimmer reveries still, he willingly surrendered himself to the encroaching umbra, to offer his essence as a sacrifice to ensure justice for his tormentors. Maybe humans had value after all. In the darkest recesses of his imagination, the one he currently inhabited, he even morphed into the very shadow that haunted his dreams.

Thirty minutes deep into contemplation, imagining the bashing in of orc skulls, his pick descended with wrathful intent. Only this time, it did not encounter the expected resistance. He staggered forward and a frigid draft replaced the customary rock, while an inexplicable force seized his still-lowered arms, holding them in a vice-like grip. A chilling touch traced his skin, advancing like frost and setting every hair on his body on end.

The whip cracked, but its sting never reached him.

[Archmage1]

Terror. It was her first memory. Darkness. Fear. Hunger. All things she became close friends with, as she grew. The mine's collapse was her first chance to see light. Many never saw it. And her mother paid the price for her screams of agony at the burning in her eyes. Yet, things got better. Her mother cooked, and she cleaned and fetched. The fire dispelled the darkness, and the cold. She never knew that there was such a thing as not cold.
Her mother warned her, told her what the orcs would do, if they knew. To always stay dirty, out of sight, and to hide.
But that day? Her mother couldn't, because she was there. It was that day that defined her. No more.
She started small, tainting the food she was cooking now.
The masters didn't notice.
Shaving wood from the walls, so the masters might break through.
The masters didn't notice.
Making the food really hot?
The masters didn't notice.
Spreading the fire the next time they beat her?
Her memory of the screams as their oiled raingear burned became her most treasured memory. Her own pain was unimportant in comparison.

[Cassus]

Walker leads a wonderful life!

Practically since the day he was decanted, everything has gone well for him! That first day, the mages in service of the chaotic evil King of Warlocks all said he took to 'safeguards' very well and was doing great. He's had work to do and flesh to eat for as long as he can remember. When he's paying attention, he's got big muscles and big eyes and a stomach that can fit a whole orc, if he cuts it up into enough pieces, and he does his very best at everything!

Even when something goes wrong, like he loses track of particular thoughts, there's always a mage around to tell him it's okay and help him put his collar back on. He's always been lucky; mages aren't around a lot, but when he's confused one of them always is there to help! Walker particularly loves the mages and would never, ever hurt them. No matter what. Not ever. He loves them especially especially. He finds new ways he loves mages all the time, because they're just so wonderful and lovable.

Walker is the very best and proudest at hurting people. Not just with his claw, either. After he figures out how to get their faces to work right and practices their voices, he says words. Apparently those words hurt people a lot more than his claw or tentacle does. And there are always more people who need to be hurt by the best people-hurter, which is good, because Walker gets so hungry. It's so hard to hold someone else's face and not eat for a while when he's saying his words. But Walker can do it.

So yeah-- friends, food, fun, and lots of new faces. What a wonderful life Walker leads!

Spoiler: Slightly more seriously

Show

Depending on exactly where the start point of the campaign is, it might be interesting to roleplay how Walker In Many Skins manages to escape and starts developing independent thoughts, or I can fast-forward him to just after his collar is damaged while no one is around to reassert control. Thoughts? I wasn't sure how literal the "chains" on our characters had to be.

[AvatarVecna]

When are selections made?

[BelGareth]

supposed to be this weekend...I haven't looked yet tbh, had to call in sick yesterday. let me catch up, but no more interest for sure.

[BelGareth]

Would the following players please join me on my discord server (if not there already, link in my sig)

Cassus, Archmage1, Tyrann, Ilerien, and Ancient.

Thanks to everyone who submitted concepts!

EDIT: Cassus and Tyrann, let me know when you join so i can add you to the correct role

[dantiesilva]

Have fun to those who were selected