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Post by agroson1 on Oct 8, 2008 23:36:49 GMT -8
That's true. Gary's a fuckin noob. Doesn't know shit. Nixon is the REAL deal for gaming. And I should know...I'm him. As far as Gary is concerned, I think we should ban him from the site. Dude doesn't know shit, and has only been playing 4th edition for like two months. Yeah, like HE knows what's what. Gimme a break. Fuck that guy.
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saiko21
Orc
Raaawwwrrrr....
Posts: 96
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Post by saiko21 on Oct 9, 2008 2:07:30 GMT -8
Here's my character bio. Forgive the horrid writing. I havnen't written a good anything in a while ahaha.
Shivan Frostmore
Height: 5"11 Weight: 235 lbs Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Race: Human Class: Warlord
He sits at the bar area of the local tavern. It's already somewhat late into the night and everyone is full of cheer, song, and brew. He sits there, as if though bothered by the good mood that is being set by the rest of the pub-goers. The bartender asks him what he wants to drink. "A mug of your finest," he says. The bartender gives him a strange look as if he can read his troubled mind, and turns to pour him his drink. Shivan sits there thinking. Thinking about what he had just been through.
(A few hours prior) "Please! Don't! Spare my life! You don't have to do this!" The frightened man started backing up towards the wall. "You don't understand. I don't have a choice," Shivan sadly told the man. His head was hung low, his hand reaching over his shoulder to unsheath his longsword. "Shivan please! I have children!" The man, his former military buddy, dropped to the floor in a sobbing heap. "I'm sorry, but you shouldn't have mettled. I can't have anyone knowing of what it is I do," Shivan said as a tear began to develop. His friend had found out why Shivan had been acting so strange. Shivan had become a mercenary, part of an elite group named The Shadow Militia. It was forbidden amongst his current military order, the Himshul. They were an elite group of tactical warlords, men of honor and dignity. Sworn to never accept money or payment for their military prowess and cunning. Sworn to never kill without reason. Sworn to never seek revenge for another. But he needed the money. Why not put his training to use. "I am sorry...friend." And with that, a swing of the sword ended it.
As he turned from the scene, he wiped the blood from his sword with a cloth he found on the table nearby. He kneeled down to offer a prayer for himself as well as his friend. As he lifted his head from his moment of silence, a boy stood there, sword drawn, the tip ready to puncture Shivan's throat. "Good boy, lay down your sword. You have no chance against me. I can use that very sword your holding to kill you. Would you like that? To die by thy own sword? Or would you like to die by the sword I hold in my hands here? The one on which you father's blood rests?" The boy's face contorted into a ball of flesh and salty tears. He thrust the sword toward Shivan's throat, but Shivan was to quick. Shivan grabbed the boy's wrist and forced it back, puncturing the boy's face with the blade. He arose from his kneeling position. "What did I just do..." He pondered on it for a moment. "It's to late now. I have to finish the job." He searched the house for the other child and wife, and layed them to waste.
(Presently at the tavern) A man pulls up a barstool next to Shivan. "Hi there, stranger," the man says playfully. He is heavily cloaked, the hood drawn far over his head. "What do you want now," Shivan replied. "Is it done? Did you complete the job," the hooded man said as he reached into his cloak. The coin could be heard jingling as he pulled it from his belt. "Yes. No one will ever know now that I work for you. And that you, good king, are leader of the Militia." King Thurman was indeed the head of the Militia. He took the jobs from people he trusted and passed the dirty work onto his men. He would keep a good portion of the bounty and give his soldiers a little less than half the reward. He surely was corrupt. "Good. Here you go my good man! And I will humor you with a drink. How bout it?" Shivan stood from the bar and began to walk out of the tavern. The king yelled to him over the music and cheers, "I will have my people find you for more work!"
The next day Shivan decided to leave the wretched, corrupt kingdom of Foremorain. He wanted a new start and had heard many good things of a place called Winterhaven in the Nentir Vale. So he gathered his things, and headed off towards the north. Day after day he came across foul and horrible beasts. Ghouls, Bears, and Trolls all had given him quite a rough time to his new destination. But he could endure it. He was a warlord of the Himshul. Till one day whilst he was traveling along the road, he could see a delapidated and ruined keep. He gazed at it and decided to take a look around it to see if he could use it as shelter for the night. He left the road to trek through the forest towards the abandoned keep. As he walked he could hear slight laughter and and the breaking of twigs in the brush. He stopped to make sure he wasn't just hearing things. "Heheheheheh....," could be heard all around him now. "Who goes there! Do you know who I AM! I am Shivan of the Himshul!" He drew his sword but it was too late. A club met the back of his head and he blacked out.
"Wha..wha...what the hell," Shivan whispered to himself. He fully awoke from his concussion. He was locked up, shackled to the cold stone wall. His body bare, stripped down to the flesh. He was wearing no clothes what-so-ever. He panicked. "HELP ME! SOMEONE HEEEELLLLLLPPPPPP!" His cries echoed off the stone. Hopefully someone would hear him. If not, surely he was a dead man.
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Post by reiphil on Oct 9, 2008 3:06:13 GMT -8
Rounce Darkmagic
The Darkmagic family was a large branch of families that were the top wizards of the age until suddenly a plague fell upon the house, wiping out the strongest of their blood. Now slowly falling into ruins due to the lack of their magic contingent, the Darkmagics were in trouble. However, one day, the Darkmagic family in the lands of Moreno Valley, gave birth to a small young boy. Straight from the womb, this boy had the strongest magical prowess of the entire Darkmagic clans across the lands. He was named Rounce.
Rounce grew up knowing he was special. Trained from early on, his magical powers surpassed all of his teachers, siblings, cousins, everyone. He quickly grew bored and impatient with his elders and he used his magical abilities to twist, befuddle, and overpower everyone to get his way. The Darkmagic family was proud of him as he was the savior to their fortune and all was going well, even though the young Rounce was arrogant. Yet tragedy struck the family.
Neighboring wizarding families grew scared of the Darkmagics growing power. They sent assassins to kill Rounce and his family to stop them from producing any more powerful wizards. And one fateful day while Rounce was eating lunch with his parents, the assassins struck.
Having lunch with his parents on the foyer of the luxurious Darkmagic Manor, Rounce sat there, thinking it was a waste of time. He could be training, he told himself, bending the laws of nature to his very will. 'How silly of my parents to believe that they are in control of me. Once I have learned all that I can from them...' Suddenly, a black cloud of smoke blasted the entire area. Rounce jumped up startled and heard the muffled shouts of his parents, as shadowy figures moved through the smoke.
Blasts of energy flew from both the attackers and his parents, but the weakened Darkmagic blood in his parents did nothing to help with the battle.. One of the assassins raised his hand and a streak of silver blue light arced out, finding it's way through Rounce's father's magical shield. His parents had fallen. Rounce stood in the midst of the battle, frightened, he did not know what to do.
The assassins turned, staring down Rounce, globes of energy flickering in their hands.
"Is this kid really that much trouble? Look, hes just standing there, gonna piss himself, he is." said one of the assailants. That assailant let fly a globe of energy towards Rounce. It striking near him.
Rounce yelped in fear and stumbled backwards. The assassins laughing at him. He was embarrassed and ashamed. He knew he could do so much more. The assassins slowly advanced, and one licked his lips.
"House Venture really paid an awful lot for this kid. Let me at least enjoy this." That assassin flicked his wrist and Rounce's cheek slashed open.
That was the last that Rounce remembered, as suddenly, Rounce's eyes turned pure white. Magic swirled about him, and the assassin's shouted in dismay. They hurled their readied spells at Rounce, but each spell flowed into a spiral around him. A demonic laugh flowed through Rounce's body, and suddenly he whipped out his arm and a wave of bright red energy washed out over the scene.
The assassins were struck by the wave, and were instantly disintegrated. Their bodies turning to dust. The next day, House Venture, and all the neighboring houses were no more.
Rounce awoke in his room, terrified by the memories he had of the assassins, but not fully knowing the actions that he did. He thought in disgust of how he reacted to the assassins, and vowed to himself that he would never depend on the foolishness or teachings of others, for if his parents truly understood how advanced in magic he could have been, they woudl be alive. Though Rounce did not know how he defeated the assassins, he knew that it was of his own power. And once he could control that power, he could dominate the world of magic. He was not going to listen to the rules of nature anymore, he was going to create his own.
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Post by duey121 on Oct 9, 2008 7:25:52 GMT -8
The Game is now full! By my count we have 6 players: Joseph, Phil, Gary, Mike, Sean (sp? he played with us last time), and now Robert. Kyle Devon Are you thinking of me? It took me a while but I found this thread. I played on Sunday the 28th of September. I'm the new guy Chris. I have Malcore the Halfling Rogue!!! I'm looking forward to continuing with you all on Sunday Oct 12. Just wanted to say thanks to everyone who helped me get started in 4th Edition, so Thanks. I had a great time. I will be writing his bio soon and posting. Just need time to finish this program for work first. See you all on Sunday.
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Post by earthwizard on Oct 9, 2008 9:09:19 GMT -8
So sorry, Chris. Yes, ahem . . .
Chris, right, yeah, that's what I said. Yeah, that's the ticket.
I'll read the other stories later - just got to work and I need to get cracking. I'm glad to see you guys getting in to character, so to speak.
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Post by agroson1 on Oct 9, 2008 9:33:05 GMT -8
Actually...the two new guys are Chris and Robert. You're right on both counts.
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saiko21
Orc
Raaawwwrrrr....
Posts: 96
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Post by saiko21 on Oct 9, 2008 9:40:02 GMT -8
right about what?
im lost -_-
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Post by agroson1 on Oct 9, 2008 11:02:15 GMT -8
Backstory for Al Dunn:
26 years ago, Al was born. His parents, Kwite and Neerlee, lived in the woods outside Annville. Kwite was a trapper and sold furs to the local traders to support his family. Neerlee worked as a seamstress at a clothing store within Annville proper.
Al was schooled by his father in the ways of trapping and showed great proficiency with a bow. It appealed to him that his father didn't work a regular job, that he made his way by trading his skills rather than working a standard job. He surmised that it was better live by ones' wits and ability, rather than toiling away to make money for others.
Shortly after his 12th birthday, Al had escorted his mother into Annville to her job. He wanted to purchase a new skinning knife for his fathers' upcoming birthday while he was in town. Approaching the local mercantile, he spotted a man acting strangely outside the establishment. Al decided to cross the street and observe the man rather than walk up directly. He spotted inside a man holding a knife to the throat of the merchant. He reacted without thinking. Quickly, he drew his bow and fired an arrow through the window, breaking the glass, and struck the would-be robber in his neck. Blood gouted from his wound and he fell to the ground. The lookout turned and drew a throwing knife in an attempt to drop Al and complete the robbery. Al fired instantly and struck the man in his eye socket with another arrow.
Two men. Dead. Two seconds. Al felt queasy and his knees went weak. He had never killed a man before, let alone two. A crowd gathered and Al was sure he would be arrested. That was not to be the case, however, as the merchant quickly came out of his shop and praised Al for saving his life. The merchant had even rewarded Al with 10 gold pieces!!!
Al had just made more than his father earned in a week. Two seconds. 10 gold. Guilt was out the window. Romorse? None. Al felt great...until he got home. Kwite was unhappy that Al had interfered in town matters. He was even more displeased that Al had killed two men when he could have disabled them just as easily. Still, Al felt an amount of pride that he had been able to dispatch two beings so easily...and got paid for doing it!!!!
As he grew older, Al started seeking out the wanted posters for men who had commited crimes. He would stalk them as game and kill them for money. His father did not approve. Killing animals for pelts and food was one thing, but killing men for money was another. Kwite eventually asked Al to leave the family home. His wife, Neerlee, was crushed.
Neerlee was proud of Al. Her father had been a Warrior and she valued Al's readiness to take up arms against evildoers. Once Kwite had evicted Al from the family home, Neerlee began making baked goods behind his back to sneak to Al. Al truly loved her for it.
Meanwhile, Kwite Dunn would barely acknowledge his son when they passed one another. This broke Al's heart. Sure, he could meet his mother regularly in town, but his fathers disapproval wounded him severely. Still, Al would sneak about their home some nights and on one of those nights he felt somthing was amiss.
On this particular night, there were no lights burning...no smell of cooking food. Al approached silently. The front door was smashed in and there were sounds of struggling within. His parents home was under attack!!
Al threw caution to the wind and charged forward with his bow. He fired blindly into the darkness. There were three Orcs inside, along with his mother and father. He heard two moans as the arrows struck home...one strange and one familiar. He fired two more. Two strange groans. "Mom!!" he shouted. "AL!!!" she replied. He quickly lit a lantern inside and saw what had been happening. The Orcs had come to rob the house...and were trying to rape his mother. All three laid dead...along with his father...slain by Al's own arrow.
Al still speaks to her from time to time, but has never quite gotten over his grief from having slain his father. He still carries the guilt. He still carries the questions. He still hunts and kills for money.
This is the story of Al Dunn.
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saiko21
Orc
Raaawwwrrrr....
Posts: 96
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Post by saiko21 on Oct 9, 2008 11:35:19 GMT -8
just wondering if someone could critique my bio...i know its not really a backstory, its more of an intro and to give an idea of what my character is like. Also, i tried to tie it into the campaign since Kyle told me i was bound and shackled, so thats how i ended his quick story. So now it should flow smoothly how my character got there and all that jazz. Thanks a bunch guys
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Post by reiphil on Oct 9, 2008 11:42:19 GMT -8
just wondering if someone could critique my bio...i know its not really a backstory, its more of an intro and to give an idea of what my character is like. Also, i tried to tie it into the campaign since Kyle told me i was bound and shackled, so thats how i ended his quick story. So now it should flow smoothly how my character got there and all that jazz. Thanks a bunch guys Your bio is fine, it gives us more of a taste of how your character plays and his own insights and ambitions.
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Post by Joseph Barros on Oct 10, 2008 0:50:12 GMT -8
Yeah, like a pass from Phil counts. Can't even show for a Thursday game. You suck Phil, and we'll never forget it. And get a fucking haircut.
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Post by reiphil on Oct 10, 2008 5:17:17 GMT -8
Yeah, like a pass from Phil counts. Can't even show for a Thursday game. You suck Phil, and we'll never forget it. And get a fucking haircut. Love you too, Joseph. <3 To blizzcon!
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Post by Joseph Barros on Oct 10, 2008 18:49:51 GMT -8
No exp for Rounce. You already got credit for rounce in the other game. Fuckin' double dipper.
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Post by reiphil on Oct 11, 2008 5:47:58 GMT -8
No exp for Rounce. You already got credit for rounce in the other game. Fuckin' double dipper. You know, your mom said the same thing about double dipping... but that's a different context anyways...
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Post by Joseph Barros on Oct 11, 2008 7:16:28 GMT -8
Your mom's a double dipper. I pulled out and double dipped all over your mom.
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