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Post by earthwizard on Oct 12, 2009 19:11:56 GMT -8
You are instructed to create a 12th level, paragon character.
Here you can post your character backgrounds. Use of the character background bonuses from PHB2 or another book must be explained in the background story. Without this I will veto the bonus!
No monsterous races. You may use only 'Player Races' from the books.
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Post by reiphil on Oct 12, 2009 21:17:36 GMT -8
Aelther Fisreth, Phoenix Knight
Somewhere in the Prenmawr fourteen years ago…
The eyes of an Elven woman snap open. These eyes snap open with fear and they quickly scan the room for danger, the dark pupils dancing back and forth trying to make out sense of danger in the dark room. The Elven woman sat up satisfied that there was no immediate danger. The dreams, she thought, they are becoming more vivid. Time is running out.
“Gabor!”
The door to the room opens quietly, yet quickly, and a thin tall man stands within its frame. He looks over the dark haired elf with an air of intrigue.
“Yes mistress?”
“The time is coming soon. Send word that the ritual must be cast within the next ten years. The vessel will be Aelther.”
A small look of surprise spreads over the servant’s face, but quickly evaporates back into his stoic intrigued look.
“Yes mistress, right away.”
… Eight years later…
It is time, thought Aelther. He approached the long hallway leading into the central ritual area of the temple. It is time to start my destiny. The tall half-elf walked through the hall with pride. He had been trained for the past eighteen years to become a weapon for the order. A weapon to defeat evil. He had known, since he was ten, that his mother had a vision of the world’s destruction. He had known, that since then, he had been chosen to become the Phoenix Knight.
Aelther had always thought it was a silly title. The Phoenix Knight. The Order of the Raven Queen had such humor, it seemed. But he knew of the true power the name held. He knew that only few could bear the fiery soul of a Phoenix, and he knew that though ironic, the Phoenix played an important part in the cycle of death. He entered into the main chamber and stood before a group of men and women. Some were elves, others dwarves, a few were eladrin and human. These were the Elders of the Order.
A slight nervousness washed over Aelther as he looked about the chamber. A large statue depicting a flock of ravens stood near the back of the chamber with a bright candle seated below it. The candle’s light cast the statue’s shadow into a silhouette of a hooded figure onto the wall. The cold white marble floor seemed seamless until it reached a large basin in the middle of the chamber. All around the basin arcane runes and sigils were carved into the stone.
“Step forward and into the basin, Aelther.” Aelther recognized the voice instantly and looked up to see his mother standing with the elders. Tentatively he stepped into the basin and looked up at them. “You have been chosen to become a Phoenix Knight. You will bear the fire of death and rebirth into the world and cleanse it of the evil that threatens to destroy it. It is your destiny. It is your life. Do you accept?”
Aelther nodded. At once, the men and women of the group spread out around the basin. Retrieving red candles, they melted some of the wax off and sealed some of the runes in the ground around the basin. The red wax started to cast an eerily glow barely noticeable over the white marble floor. After moving about, many of the hundreds of runes filled with wax and the room started to glow with an arcane energy. The basin in which Aelther stood suddenly started growing hot. The men and women around the basin started to chant as the basin grew hotter and hotter. Aelther could barely withstand the heat as beads of sweat started to collect on his brow. He could see the waves of energy and the waves of heat roiling from the basin.
“Aelther Fisreth.” The sound of his name shocked him for a second as he looked up into the eyes of his mother. “It is time for you to reborn.”
His mother stepped away from the basin and stood before the statue. She started to chant and slowly a ball of flame faded into existence in her hands. She locked eyes with Aelther and suddenly the ball of flame flew from her hands at Aelther. The ball seemed to give off a deafening screech as it slammed into Aelther. It broke upon him, the fire engulfing him. Aelther felt immense pain, as the fire seared his flesh. He felt the magical essence start to seep into his body, but it was too much. I cannot contain this power! Will I be consumed?
With that thought, Aelther’s world became black.
… Six years later (present day) …
The small tavern filled with the raucous voices of villagers after a day of work. Lit dimly by small lanterns hanging off the walls, the voices seemed to give the small tavern life.
“No no no, that’s just rumors! My friend a few towns over told me what he saw. He saw this man, said he looked like a half-elf, who had just left the town. This man, he says, is like carrying nothing but a rucksack with food, and some coins in his purse. My friend says the guy was also just carrying what appeared to be a clothed staff. He said that the man had been asking around about any disturbances lately. Said he’d been looking for something. Clues or something. Seemed silent and serious, probably crazy. Anyways, this man, right, he walks out of town, and my friend, well he followed the man a bit as he was headed back to his farm.
“Now some bandits he says come off the road about a mile out, and demand that the man give them his belongings. My friend thought the bandits must have been fools because the man couldn’t possibly have anything. And from what my friend says, the guy wasn’t in bad shape at all. The guy looked very fit. But anyways, the man tells the bandits to back off, but they don’t. And then my friend said, in a flash of bright light, suddenly this man was covered in armor, and the wrapped staff appeared to be this crazy sword like weapon and his dark brown hair appeared to have this fiery glow to it-“
“Wait! You’re telling me that this guy just turned into some knight all of a sudden? A knight with fire for hair?”
“Yeah! That’s what my friend says. I’m telling you!”
“No way! I never saw him do something like that. I saw him, two years ago, this guy your friend says. If he’s the same guy, this guy can breathe fire man, and lightning! And he can like jump over buildings!”
“What?! Breathing fire and lightning?! Are you even listening to yourself?!”
“Well it sounds better than becoming insta-knight!”
Over the laughter and sharing of stories, only a few men notice a fit half-elf slip into the tavern. Nor do they notice the lanterns suddenly flared life. The man steps closer to the bar and asks for a mug of ale. Catching the attention of the barkeep as he sips his mug, listening to the stories he asks:
“So, barkeep, have there been any disturbances lately?”
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Post by The Keeper on Oct 12, 2009 22:45:18 GMT -8
Darkfire, Elemental Assassin The savage storm whipped through Greatwood allowing the elves little respite from the torrential downpour as they neared the end of their long trek to the outskirts of the forest. The journey had been a long one, but the Woodsinger Rangers had a duty to keep watch for travelers to protect them and nature itself would have to do better to force a Woodsinger to break an honor-bound oath. The small unit tightened their oil-slicked coats to keep as dry as possible and slowly made their way down the sloping hillsides to one of the dozens of small villages lying on the outer western edges of Greatwood. The squad had already felled two Daggerburg goblin raiding parties and were determined to have a successful watch before being relieved at week's end. As the Rangers closed in on the town, the howling wind began to pick up and lightning seemed to split the very air it streaked through. The rain began to come down colder and faster, like a shower of ice daggers threatening to tear through the very fabric of the elves' gear. The Rangers, fearing for their own safety at this point, hurried to the tavern at the center of town to find reprieve from the storm's awesome fury. As the first of the Woodsinger Rangers reached the tavern's door, a strong gust of wind assaulted the elf and slammed her into a supporting column of the building rendering her unconscious. The Rangers raced over to their slumped comrade when suddenly the wind, rain, and lightning started to coalesce into a ball of energy nearly twenty feet in diameter over one of the village's thatched homes. The violent ball of energy quickly condensed into a swirling vortex spewing lightning which struck several of the town's buildings causing them to explode in spectacular pillars of fire. Smoldering villagers feebly tried to crawl away from the bonfires that had only seconds before been their homes. Strangely, the rain did nothing to quench the fires consuming the villagers and the Rangers could only look on as smoldering villagers quickly became charred corpses. Despite what little effect it seemed to have on improving the situation, the Woodsinger Rangers raced from one building to another and began evacuating the surviving villagers. All the while, wind continued to whip through the village tearing buildings apart and lightning continued it's vengeful onslaught igniting building after building with almost a calculating aim. Just when the Rangers thought matters could not get any worse, two elemental archons stepped out of the swirling vortex. The first was bathed in menacing flames which unnaturally ignored the torrential downpour while the second seemed to be lightning incarnate. The barely humanoid archons marched purposefully toward one of the engulfed homes leaving scorched footprints in their wake. Without a second thought, the remaining elves leaped behind a low stone wall adjacent to a dilapidated barn to avoid the archons' notice and to watch their actions. As the fire archon reached what was left of the blazing hut, it's body emitted an enormous pulse of flame blowing away the remaining wreckage and debris of the home. What was left astounded the elves. On the floor, cradled by an ashen corpse, was a wailing infant not even a year old. His delicate skin had endured the furnace of flames and seemed to be unscratched despite the whole ordeal. The two archons turned to each other and spoke in an unintelligible language. As one, they both turned back toward the crying babe and reached out to touch it. The moment their elemental hands came into contact with the infant, both archons begin to screech in pain. Their bodies convulsed in unnatural shapes as they tried to wrench free their paralyzed limbs away from the crying infant. The baby, with eyes closed and tears streaming down its face, seemed to have no idea about the extraordinary events unfurling before it. The screeching of the archons abruptly stopped as their bodies were rent into entropic orbs of elemental energy swirling around the babe. The two orbs slowed their spin around the baby until they gently came down and engulfed the child in blue and red light. Black lines raced like living fire across the child's body seemingly in the shape of flames but still looked oddly reminiscent of lightning. With the destruction of the archons, the chaotic vortex and raging storm quickly dissipated without any energy to fuel them. The Woodsinger Rangers peered cautiously over the stone wall toward the spot where the archons had vanished. The village was eerily silent except for the crackle of flames and the incessant crying of the marked child. Without so much as a word spoken, the elves silently nodded in agreement that the child could not be left and must be taken back to the clan. Events such as these could not be common place, this one must be special. One of the elves swiftly sprinted amidst the rubble and picked up the bawling newborn and carried it back to Greatwood with the other elves. Thirty years later... "I wish that I could give you more than this dagger young Darkfire, but alas, the day we found you you had nothing but what fate gave you." The youthful looking elf's age was betrayed only by his eyes that seemed to have watched centuries of turmoil come to pass as he handed a dagger to the gray-haired human standing before him. "No master, you and the rest of the Woodsinger clan have given me more than what fate has ever sought fit to bestow upon me. You have given me a name and have all taught me to control the power I was gifted as a child. For that, I will be forever in your debt." Darkfire knelt on one knee as he solemnly accepted the dagger from his master. His hair had only begun to gray in streaks and creases were faintly visible on his visage. While he may have been old by human standards, he was something akin to a young whelp by elvish benchmarks. His rugged, aged appearance hid the fact that he had been honed into a finely crafted warrior after three decades of training with elves. What did set Darkfire visually apart from his human kin were the long, flame-like tracks of black lightning that covered the length of his body accounting for his name given by the elves. While they did not hurt, nor were they considered real scars, they constantly reminded him of what had happened in his younger years how his powers had come to be. By gaining his arcane powers from elementals, he had to be taught by the elves how to focus his energy since the power was not inate to his being. His knowledge of the arcane and its uses far surpassed what many humans even conceived possible. Everything he knew he learned from his Woodsinger masters, save for a few secrets of his own which he kept close... Sheathing the dagger at his back, Darkfire stood up and looked eye to eye with his master. Their robes billowed in the light breeze as they both took one last look at each other. A simultaneous nod from both student and teacher signaled Darkfire's departure. Without a word, Darkfire turned around and launched himself toward the edge of the forest. His movements were so quick, only quickly fading images were visible as he seemed to teleport from one spot to another quickly disappearing on the horizon.
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Post by earthwizard on Oct 17, 2009 12:09:29 GMT -8
Faber led the freed prisoners to the outside world. He had to make sure they were safe. It was night when they finally felt the cool outside air blow across their faces.
His blacksmith master turned to him once they were on the outside. "Faber, where are you going? Come back with us."
"I cannot," He responded. "There are still people in there, fighting the monster behind all of this. I must help them, if I can." With that he returned back into Thunderspire Mountain.
As he approached, he saw a single figure close shut the massive door by the waterfall. Quickly Faber ducked behind a low ruined wall, as the figure seemed to move with unnatural speed away. What of the others? He thought.
When he deemed it safe, he emerged from hiding and approached the door. Then something caught his eye that he hadn't noticed before . . . the waterfall was flowing upward.
Gods, he thought. Then the entire cavern erupted with explosive force. Something hit Faber and his vision went dark. He blinked his eyes and shook his head as he stumbled backward. That's when the light hit him. Shimmering rays of energy began to force their way through the cavern, and Faber. He could see and feel the arcane energy penetrating his body. He tried to channel it. He poured it all into his clothing and staff, as much as he could anyway, but he couldn't resit it all. He passed out.
. . .
"Hey, wake up sleepy brains."
Faber opened his eyes to a halfling who stood over him.
"You must've traveled a far way to get here," she said. "Here, have some water."
He took the waterskin and drank.
"Well then, you'd best follow me if we're going to get you somewhere useful. Go on, get up then! No time for lazing about!"
He stood up and his eyes were flooded with sparkles of light, and his head flushed with pain.
"Oh, don't worry about that," the halfling said. "We'll take care of you. Come on."
She began to walk down the path. Path? Trees? Where am I? All the while they walked the small woman hummed, or told stories. She shared a couple apples with Faber, and it seemed they trekked on for ages. He looked at the Sun, but it didn't seem to move.
"Um, where are we going?" He ventured.
"Going? We're going everywhere, we're going here, and there. We've already been most places, but the majority of which have yet to be discovered!" They rounded a corner and came to a figure clad in plate-mail resting beneath a tree. A large sword and shield lay beside him. He stood and his large body towered over Faber.
"Look what I found!" The halfling chimed.
"Hmm, let's have a look at him," the dragonborn grumbled out. "Not much in the way of a fighter I should say. You sure you're up to this?"
"Up to-" Faber was cut off by a woman's voice from behind another tree. She stepped out into the open as she spoke.
"He'll be fine. He will gather others about him, though I should say not many. Danu needs more than she has. Haven will be best. They will meet there. For now Piranoth is stirring." The others shuddered. They all fell silent and examined Faber.
"Well, no point in staying put for too long I always say!" The halfling exclaimed. "Come on then, no time for lazing about."
She led Faber away from the others and continued on down the road. After some time of more humming and singing, she stopped. "We'll be moving on soon. All I want you to do is look right. up. there." She pointed.
He followed her hand until he looked right up at the Sun. It was blinding, but it caused no pain. In fact, he was filled with a sense of warmth and healing. He became mesmerized.
. . .
"Hey. Hey fella. You alright, lad?" An older man had his hand on Faber's shoulder. He was still on a road, but the halfling was no where to be seen. "You shouldn't look directly at the Sun like that, lad. You'll go blind."
Faber only looked dumbfounded at the man.
"Well, it's not too far up to Haven. You should head up that way and get yourself a place for the night. Too much Sun will get you tired right out. Always does me." He gave Faber a pat and walked on down the road, pitchfork in hand and dragging a small wagon behind. He looked over his shoulder and called out, "Atuan Tehlu, lad!"
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Post by rireilova on Dec 5, 2009 20:20:25 GMT -8
“Jung man, you seem lost! Perhaps old Dovan can be of assistance? From how you stare at the Goliath in the corner, I guess you had never seen a Suidean Gardner before? Oh, may the gods watch over you! Ignorance can be dangerous, young man… Buy me a drink and I will tell you the story of the Gardeners, before you go an offend one by staring at him like a silly pup and get your head served to you!”
“Oh… thanks, that’s more like it”
“To tell you of the Gardeners I first must tell you of the Barony of Suidea. Well, now a days only our steel work bears this name, and in a few years the Dukes will have done away with that to; instead they’ll say buy a StaFia Mail or a Birindi Great sword! Bhaa! But this old man is getting ahead of himself.”
With the rise of Nerath humans settled these mountains and after some years, the Royal Family made Dermon Theulin the first Baron of Suidea. During his rule these lands, saw cooperation between the Goliaths who dwelt in the mountain tops who showed us great architecture and a gift for nature; from the remaining dwarves we learned secrets in metal working. Not even the Royal Smiths in Nerath could replicate during it’s peak”
“Hmm! I’m kind of dry all of a sudden” (Tilting the cup, so the young man could notice it was empty)
“Well, not everyone was happy! The smiths guilds of course where seriously pissed off, Suidean steal was undermining them; and with the expanding Nerathi empire and army, there was a lot of gold to be made if you had the best steal. I don’t have to draw you a map do I?” “Smart ladd”
“It was a spring morning when the assassins came. The guilds had tried bribing first, later they tried bruising up the metalworkers, but when Baron Theulin III, cracked down on them and taxed them off his lands, well, they had no choice. Over 20 assassins, overpowered the guards and went for the Baron and his family in the Manor’s garden. His immediate escort was overpowered and he would have been dead in seconds. Except for 3 Goliath elders who where enjoying gardening that morning, they grabbed their tools and cleaved, swiped, stabbed and killed! In a few minutes the once beautiful garden was soaked in blood, but the gardeners although dying, saved the baron and his heirs! So fierce was the fighting so noble their sacrifice and so offended where the Goliath tribes at the cowardice of the guilds and lost of their brethren that the Baron and the chieftains swore their revenge on the Trade Guilds.”
“They new no borders, new now laws and new no fear! For the next 20 years, the Suidean equipped Goliath, who took the name Gardeners in honor of their fallen brothers, hunted down and killed every single guild leader, responsible! Afterwards, the remaining Gardners became the personal guards of the Baron. A job they served until the death of the last Baron some 26 yrs after the fall of Empire.”
“Now they serve as mercenaries & pit fighters! Bhaa, none have ever worked for any of the so called dukes! Spit!!! Be careful around a Gardner, they are not to be trifled with, they still carry the best Suidean steal, and have fought themselves out of many a scrap. They have trained in the foulest pits and seen almost all fighting traditions. They don’t fight to look pretty but to win! Some say they are still waiting for the rightful heir to the Barony to claim his title and serve him. It is said they hold, the key to unifying all the Dutchies and overthrowing the dukes! You laugh? Well its only a rumor, mind you, but a good one…”
2 days later…
“Dovan, are you sure this contraption will open the gate?” Kuath, said examining the patch worked item, in the old mans hands. The old man spit the last sip of stale beer he had been drinking and said “It will, don’t you mind that, how are you planning to conquer the tower, though? It’s not likely you will be welcomed?” “Besides, how can you be sure your father had the Kashandlier with him when he died, he could have past it on?”
The Goliath looked down at his friend, he had been attempting to dissuade him for days, delaying in giving him the key that would breach the Liches gates, trying to talk him out of it. It was as close to committing suicide as he could think, to go up against a powerful undead spell-hurler like this. But he had to, the Kashandlier had to be recovered and he could not bring others with him, as much the star-seers had told him. “Aid you will find within! Look to the 5, who like the first start of the nigh, shine your path, just before you stumble to your death”
“Besides, not even the first Gardners acted so recklessly in their pursuit of vengeance!” “They where patient, they took their time” continued the old man. “Dovan, this is much bigger than just revenge, you now it! Without the Kashandlier, those old stories you enjoy telling strangers about Suidea, will never be more than that again. It is my duty to keep it in my fathers absence. I am sure he did not pass it along, he had no chance to and I am sure the Lich doesn’t even know he has it, or cares about what it can mean to so many” “I am going, so give me that contraption and show me how to use it!”
As Kuath left the old mans office, “By the way Dovan, that young man who was buying you drinks 2 nights ago, was a spy for the Duke of StaFia!” “He tried to poison me, not long after you collapsed in the bar” “if you want to torture him some more with your stories of fancy, you might find his spirit, close to the clump of oak trees behind the Soup and Anvil, I left his remains as fertilizers!”
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Post by earthwizard on Dec 11, 2009 22:38:44 GMT -8
Cool. I like it, Ricardo. You can take 600 xp for posting up the backstory. I'll add something to that, just to make some continuity, and I'll tell you about it (or you'll figure it out) on Sunday.
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Post by reiphil on Dec 25, 2009 15:09:30 GMT -8
Kyle - You never got back to me on whether or not I could use the "Monk" build I sent you. I think it's funny that Ricardo is going monk and I'm going ruffian rogue, essentially monk.
Please check your PMs and tell me if everything is ok.
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Post by earthwizard on Dec 25, 2009 17:15:43 GMT -8
Hey - your build looks fine.
Aside - how does one 'equip' the fist in the character builder?
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Post by reiphil on Dec 25, 2009 21:47:07 GMT -8
Lol, it was just a mace that I renamed to be Fist because character builder isn't smart enough to calculate everything correctly.
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Post by earthwizard on Dec 25, 2009 23:10:01 GMT -8
Oh, shouldn't it be a club? I think when I imported it from the text, the program didn't recognize it as a mace. It just recognized a 'fist'.
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gabe
Iron Golem
Posts: 174
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Post by gabe on Jun 9, 2010 0:34:32 GMT -8
(So...finals are over and I really wanted to try roleplaying my character....I know it's late but here it is. My first character background EVER.)
He had never known his parents, and any inclination he had ever had of trying to find them disappeared a long time ago. He was raised in the monastery, and it was the only life he'd ever known.
It was a small monastery, exactly 16 residents, all followers of Pelor. Most of them were ex-adventurers, either too old or too tired to travel around anymore, seeking a peaceful place to rest for the rest of their lives. All of them had given up their names, and as such, he had never really ever had a name. They all simply called each other 'Brother', but as was usually the case, he was the exception. They all referred to him as 'Little Brother.'
Despite these unusual circumstances, they had raised him well. The smarter Brothers had taught him how to read and write. The ones who were adventurers taught him how to fight. Others taught him about history. But they all taught him about Pelor, about his doctrines, and how to invoke his power. For 18 years they had raised him. And he would've been content if he had just stayed in the monastery for all his life.
But they knew better. They knew he had a higher calling.
One day they summoned him to the common room. There they explained how they had all, at one point in another, traveled the world, aiding people in Pelor's name, and how they all believed it was his turn to help those in need.
He didn't fully understand at the time, but he trusted his elder brothers.
They gave him some of their old adventuring equipment, but more importantly they gave him a name. They reminded him to never forget where he comes from, and to never forget the title they bestowed upon him.
He bade farewell to his brothers, and as he took his first couple of steps outside of the monastery, he wondered where Pelor was going to take him, and prayed that Pelor would keep him and his family safe.
And that is how Ceramus the Sunbringer came to be.
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It has been 10 years since he left the monastery. He writes letters to them when he can, and hopes that one day he can deliver them personally. But he knows that now is not the time. The previous day during his meditation Pelor had sent him a vision. A vision of a town called Argent. A vision of a group of adventurers...a bard that carried a very large bow...a man who carried no weapons, but still seemed dangerous...and a tinkerer of sorts who worked with artifacts that he had never seen before.
Just like 10 years ago, he didn't fully understand what was presented before him, but just like he trusted his brothers 10 years ago, he now trusts Pelor to guide him to where he is needed.
Without any doubts or reservations, he heads towards his destination. To Argent.
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Post by earthwizard on Jun 9, 2010 20:07:26 GMT -8
Hey Gabe. Good job. I always like when people add some background to their characters. Take 800 xp for your character background!
FYI - I have been doing some preliminary thinking about a future game that I will hold (after Revenge is over - which won't be for a long while yet, so don't get any ideas - that's my job). In that game, character creation rule #1 will be - NO ORPHANS!
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Post by kore on Jun 9, 2010 20:26:37 GMT -8
...rule #1 will be - NO ORPHANS! What about lost memories, are lost memories okay?
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