|
Post by earthwizard on Dec 18, 2008 11:04:28 GMT -8
Hi guys,
I'd like you all to post here your characters' vitals as they are right now. I'll be moving your characters' backstories from the other threads to this one, once I get the proper admin privileges.
Please post: Char name, class, level, stats, defenses, hp, and equipment. I'll look at your powers, feats and skills when I DM next (TBD). Also, and perhaps most importantly, please post your character's primary motivation (or PM me with a primary motivation).
Thanks, Kyle Devon
|
|
|
Post by reiphil on Dec 19, 2008 11:26:11 GMT -8
Name: Rounce Darkmagic (of the Moreno Valley Darkmagics) Class: Wizard Level: 4 Stats: Str - 11 Con - 16 Dex - 13 Int - 21 Wis - 14 Cha - 12 HP - 38 Defenses: AC- 21 (1/2: 2, Class: 1, Ability: 5, Armor: 3) Fort - 17 (1/2: 2, Racial: 1, Ability: 3, Armor: 1) Ref - 19 (1/2: 2, Racial: 1, Ability: 5, Armor: 1) Will - 18 (1/2: 2, Class: 2, Racial: 1, Ability: 2, Armor: 1) Passive Insight - 19 Passive Perception - 14
Equipment: Wand +1 Leather Armor +1 Cask of Tactics +1 Cloak of Resistance +1 15x Rations Bedroll Waterskin Flasks x10 Bag of Components (40gp worth left) Magic Light Shard (from the room before Kalarel)
Feats: Ritual Caster (default) Burning Blizzard (lvl 1) Improved Initiative (bonus: human) Armor Prof: Leather (lvl 2) Action Surge (lvl 4)
Powers: Rounce's Magic Missile Rounce's Ray of Frost Rounce's Thunderwave
Rounce's Chillstrike Rounce's Icy Rays
Rounce's Sleeping Spell Rounce's Freezing Cloud Rounce's Expeditious Retreat Rounce's Shield [Note: I have extra dailies/utils because I take two when I choose them, though I can only prepare as many as I can cast per day]
Rituals: Rounce's Floating Disc Comprehend Language Rounce's Ritual for Putting Things Together (Make Whole) Endure Elements
|
|
|
Post by earthwizard on Dec 22, 2008 12:03:35 GMT -8
Maximillian Jones
Max was born into a wealthy and once fairly well known family. Before retiring his father was once a member of a loose “organization” of adventurers that called themselves hunters. Their main goal was the extermination of evil, primarily supernatural and extra planar threats. Hunters spent as much time researching how to track down and destroy such threats as they did training in the arts of combat, stealth, and tactics. Mostly Hunters are loaner types, most hunters do know each other and on occasion work together, but usually they work alone or within their immediate family. Max’s father, Constantine, was an exceptional hunter that was especially well respected among other hunters for his long list of vanquished spirits, demons, vampires, werewolves, and other less commonly known supernatural entities. Eventually though all hunters reach an age where they ask themselves, “Do I continue on alone to fight a battle that will likely never end, or do I retire completely from the life never to look back?” Constantine chose the latter, married, used his collection of rewards from over the years to buy a home, had a son and daughter, and never once spoke of his past to his family. He wanted a better life for them and did not want his children following in his footsteps.
Unfortunately, Constantine’s reputation among other hunters was matched only by his reputation among various agents of evil that are not without their own talents and resources. It took nearly a decade and a half, but eventually his past caught up with him in the form of a vampire seeking revenge for the loss of his lover at the hands of Constantine long ago. In the middle of the night the vampire struck. Years of inaction and a particularly cunning vampire left the former hunter and his family vulnerable. Max woke up to find his father and mother slaughtered and the vampire’s hands around his sister. Fearlessly, (not to mention recklessly; he had yet to learn anything about vampires) he charged. The vampire easily swatted him aside knocking him against the wall and into unconsciousness. When he awoke both the vampire and his sister were gone.
Max was torn apart inside, but as he began working towards burying his family and putting the house in order, he uncovered a hidden compartment under his parents’ bed. Underneath a floorboard he found an old leather-bound and dusty journal. Within that journal was his everything about his father’s past as a hunter including everything he knew about every creature he had ever encountered. Upon reading the section on vampires, he decided then and there he would become a hunter and hunt down the thing that killed his family.
Using the journal Max began hunting on his own, picking up on clues and tracking various evil threats, often finding he was a natural hunter and a very agile combatant. To increase his power he began studying what he could to learn about the arcane arts, and one day become a powerful wizard that could bring down the most terrible of fiends. Eventually Max did hunt down and kill the vampire using the elements of surprise and his father’s journal entries on hunting vampires, but it wasn’t enough. He decided that forevermore his purpose in life would be to make sure that no evil is ever able to harm another family ever again.
|
|
|
Post by earthwizard on Dec 22, 2008 12:05:04 GMT -8
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.
. . . DM update . . .
Shivan lost track of the days. He could only count the number of times it was his turn. The others screamed; Shivan did his best not to. He did not want to give in, to give the hobgoblin the pleasure. He knew it was all for pleasure, and his anger grew inside him. Then he heard the sounds of hope from down the hall.
"Help!" he shouted, knowing fully the guards could hear him. He didn't care. Someone was down there fighting the goblins. Someone could come and rescue him. "HELP!!!!"
The sounds of battle erupted in the torture room, just outside his cell. A goblin guard came to shut him up, but he knew that this was his opportunity to escape. He let the anger that built up inside of him out in a terrifying way. He began chanting in abyssal and convulsing on the floor, attempting to fool the guard into thinking he was possessed. It didn't work, so he needed to step it up a notch. Piss.
He pissed himself, but the goblin still was unconvinced. Meanwhile the battle in the next room seemed to be going the way of the invaders. Though his rouse was ineffective, the invaders were victorious and sprung him from his cell.
Thus Shivan met with the other heroes of our adventure and joined with them to beat the crap out of the goblins and hobgoblins who had kidnapped him. Little did he know, that he was also helping to thwart a plan to break a seal on a portal that led to the Shadowfell, realm of the demon lord Orcus.
They fought several battles together, but as the descended deeper into the ruined keep, they were assaulted by horrific undead creatures. What was worse, one of their number seemed to be possessed by a similar entity that had possessed Sir Keegan, lord of the keep. They found themselves in a dire situation. The wizards of their group took some calculated risks and blasted everyone with their magics. Unfortunately, Shivan had taken too much damage from the undead wraiths.
He felt their grasp pull him towards the grave. He fell unconscious and struggled. He failed. Shivan Frostmore died in the depths of the Keep on the Shadowfell.
So ends his story.
|
|
|
Post by earthwizard on Dec 22, 2008 12:07:03 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.
|
|
|
Post by earthwizard on Dec 22, 2008 12:09:20 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.
|
|
|
Post by earthwizard on Dec 22, 2008 12:11:15 GMT -8
The Malcore Reed Story!!
The Reed family lived on their farm a few miles out side of Winter Haven. They were a poor family just barely making a living with their farm. The children worked hard to help the family make it through the tough seasons. They spent a lot of the days working in the fields. Fighting off birds by throwing rocks at them, chasing vermin out of the fields, not to mention planting and harvesting. It was hard but fulfilling life for the family.
The youngest son, named Malcore, was the bright spot in their other wise dull life. He would spend hours playing pranks on everyone. Most thought he was just a quiet kid, but he was always plotting. Quietly listening and observing what everyone was planning and doing while he worked out his plans for mischief. Most of his pranks were harmless, others not so. When his big brother got him mad, he would pay him back. He would sneak into his parent’s room and borrow his dad’s copy of Play Halfling and would hide it in his brother’s things and then tell on him. Some times he would make elaborate traps for his unsuspecting family members to set off. Like his famous outhouse trap, when you sit to do your business you trigger the trap to break a bottle of alchemist fire in the bottom and torch your behind. That one did back fire a bit on him once. On time it was his mom who sat on it and not his brother, Dad seemed happy later for some reason, it had something about smooth and clean down there. Mom on the other hand was not so amused.
One day, when he was twelve, he got to go to town with dad for the first time for some supplies. His father gave him a couple of copper to buy some candy. While choosing his treats he met a little beggar child. Well met is a nice word, caught him trying to pick his pocket is more accurate. At first Malcore almost hit him, but instead took pity on the poor sap. He befriended the little bugger and gave him some of his candy instead. He told him where they lived and if he came out when he needed some food, he would make sure he got enough for a favor.
Granted this worked out well for Malcore, his little friend, Mick, came out and he would feed him. Then Mick would help him do his chores. This freed up more time for playing pranks on his family and visitors. The two of them became fast friends and talked a lot about the world. Malcore was surprised to find out just how much his new friend had traveled. He would sit for hours just listening to all his amazing stories.
This went on for about eight years, and Mick pretty much became part of the family. Then Malcore decided to go out and find adventure of his own. Before leaving he did on last favor for Mick. He talked his father into taking his friend on as a hired hand, and giving him his old room. Well Mick was so thankful that he gave him his thieves’ tools before he left and all the advice he had about living on the streets. The tools were better then the home made ones he had for getting into things he wasn’t supposed to. With all his goodbye’s said Malcore set out to find his place in the world.
So Malcore went to Winter Haven to find a caravan and set out to see the world. While looking for a caravan to join he found something else, trouble. Just his luck he was walking down an alley on his way to the local inn when he felt a burning pain on the back of his head, then everything went dark.
|
|
|
Post by earthwizard on Dec 22, 2008 12:40:49 GMT -8
We now need a story for Lia - get to work Robert!
|
|
saiko21
Orc
Raaawwwrrrr....
Posts: 96
|
Post by saiko21 on Dec 22, 2008 14:55:59 GMT -8
Lia of the Fey
Lia was of a typical elven family. She was a typical elven girl living in a typical elven town. Boring. She hated it. Everyday she saw the same people doing the same things. Nothing special about the people she knew so well. She had to live through it. It wasn't her choice. She was still too young to do anything for herself. Being only 18 she knew if she left she'd be in big trouble. So to keep herself occupied she would go out into the forest and practice swordplay. She never picked up a bow. To her that was a waste of time. She loved the feel of cold steel upon her hands as she would chop at trees and makeshift targets she fashioned from burlap sacks and dirt to look like people. She practiced in the way of the arts of stealth and became quite good at hiding even in the midst of broad daylight. She would perform acrobatics amongst the treetops and along the forest floors to keep her body in top condition. That was her playtime.
When, one day during her "training", she heard low grunting sounds coming from deep within the forest. It didn't sound like any animal she had encountered before. So she climbed into the trees and began moving amongst them to find the source of the noise. Not even more than fifty feet in she saw what it was that was creating the sounds. It was a group of orcs. It seemed to be a small wandering group, but she knew for a fact they were hostile creatures. Now was her chance to prove herself. She wasn't trying to impress anyone back in town, she just needed to know if her life long dream of becoming an adventurer was in the future.
She whisked along the trees and found one of the orcs squatting amongst the brush. "Haha...My first victim," she thought to herself. She dropped down to the forest floor, took a crouching stance, and unsheathed her two blades from her back. The orc was making disgusting noises. She tried to hold back from laughing. She walked up until she came to the orcs back. "Heeelllllooooo there," she whispered into his ear. The orc jumped to feet and made a complete 180 turn to face her, his pants still down. Lia kicked the orc in his knee making him fall face first into his own feces, then took her short sword to the back of his head. She felt the rush. She loved it. Back into the trees she went, and to the river of the death the other orcs traveled.
After that encounter she knew what she had to do. She went back to her village, gathered her most important belongings and left without letting anyone know. She was off to become an adventurer.
There ya go Kyle thats her basic backstory. I forgot the whole thing about the pendant i was wearing and all that junk.
|
|
|
Post by reiphil on Dec 22, 2008 23:49:39 GMT -8
There ya go Kyle thats her basic backstory. I forgot the whole thing about the pendant i was wearing and all that junk. You came into contact as a sword for hire for the academy of fallcrest and was sent as a sort of "indiana jones" to recover relics and stuff. you probably enjoyed hunting because you got to kill disgusting and evil creatures. you were then sent to the keep on the shadowfell to find out what was going on there, and your amulet proves you work for the academy. damn i have a good memory.
|
|
saiko21
Orc
Raaawwwrrrr....
Posts: 96
|
Post by saiko21 on Dec 22, 2008 23:55:23 GMT -8
ahahah thanks dude
oh ao are we starting the new campaign this sunday?? kyle?
|
|
|
Post by earthwizard on Dec 23, 2008 9:21:13 GMT -8
I will not be in Riverside this Sunday. I am currently visiting family in Sacramento, and I won't return until next week. I am looking forward to a game on January 4th.
. . .
Good job on the backstory.
Lia receives 300 xp for the backstory. Rounce receives 100 xp for remembering details of another character's backstory.
Kyle Devon
|
|
saiko21
Orc
Raaawwwrrrr....
Posts: 96
|
Post by saiko21 on Mar 24, 2009 20:18:34 GMT -8
These memories haunt me. In my dreams, in my every waking moment. Faint memories of death and decay. Of hope and prosperity. Of people that I think I might have loved. But there is one memory that plays constantly in my head. A woman stares at me with those big, green eyes. It plays over and over again in my mind. Lately, the memories have gotten a little better in the sense that I can see more of the story unravel. That's what it is. A story that is being slowly read to me. The woman stares again. Her long flowing hair, a beautiful auburn color as that of the autumn leaves, brushes against my arm. The world turns and everything is sideways. She seems to be laying there now, her head rests upon a pillow, her hands folded together under her cheek. A smile slowly begins to form upon her face. Her lips move, but no sound escapes from behind them. I know what she is saying though. I can trace the words that she is making with her lips, "I love you," she says. Is it me that she is saying this too? Do I love her? Do I know this woman?
She removes her hands from under her cheek as she turns to face the other direction. Slowly, she rises from the bed and removes the fine silk sheets which covered her body. She stands there naked, looking out the window from which the sun shines through. She reaches over to the wall where an elegant robe hangs. She grabs it ever so delicately, reaches through one arm, then the other. She faces me once more with her robe still open, and she brushes the hair back from her face with her fingers. I notice her ears. It's hard to miss them, I mean, they are pointed after all. Again she smiles, her teeth as white as pearls, truly she is a magnificent sight.
I find myself now, well if it is me, getting up from the bed. She looks me up and down with a certain look in her eye as she smirks. She comes to me, places her arms around my neck, and stands on the balls of her feet to reach me for a prolonged kiss. I place my forehead against hers as we feel a certain connection between us. "I never want you to leave me, Zaradyr," she says faintly. "It's funny you should say that, since it is you that will be leaving me in a few days time," I say. Her smile fades slowly and her eyes move from mine. "It's not that I want to leave Zaradyr, but there is nothing for me here, besides you. I need to fulfill my dreams of becoming a great adventurer! You'll hear my name resound through the villages and cities of the vale. I just don't understand why you do not wish to come with me..." I place my hands inside her robe and begin to caress her back. "It's not that I do not wish to go with you, it's just that my heart lays here, and I can't just leave the people without a leader. They need me. I know you can understand that...Lia..."
That's where it stops. The memory has ended there for the past week and sometimes the last part just replays in my mind over and over again. Who is this Lia and why is it that my mind is so convinced on showing me this? I can hear the cries of a raven overhead. His caw echoes deep within my soul. Enough of these foolish memories. It's time for me to get back to my one true goal. To banish those that play with life and death. To kill those who take the lives of innocents within unreasonable situations. To destroy all evil within my wake. But, most importantly, to avenge the deaths of those whose time on earth was forcefully taken from them. I am Marach, and with help from the Raven Queen, death is surely to follow in my wake.
Whheeeewwwwwww....I just love this backstory. I know it doesn't go with what we had on Sunday and I apologize Kyle, but I kinda still wanted the memory of Lia to linger just a bit. I hope this is totally cool and that whoever reads this enjoys it!
|
|
|
Post by Joseph Barros on Mar 25, 2009 12:33:32 GMT -8
Max has an idea! "Fellow adventurers! We are not without means! Let not Leah's death be in vain! Let not Leah be dead at all! I've got 500gp with her name on it! To the ressurrection chambers!"
|
|
|
Post by reiphil on Mar 25, 2009 14:51:26 GMT -8
Actually.. the pot has like 5000 gold... that's enough for a ressurection right? body is only a day old. we can get it and get back within 3. ress lia. sound good guys?
|
|