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Topic: Peradyse Lost Q&A
Subject: Leave of Absense
Dragon Mistress, I will not be able to post until monday; tuesday the latest. If we are there already, as I have assumed by what I read, please allow Cerric to assist with the healing, using the lowest spell possible to get the job done 
Posted on 2007-08-10 at 22:57:37.
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Topic: FIRST one to post here wins
Subject: Consulation Prizes!
I just wanted to thank all of you for wasting precious moments of my life. These are moments filled with random key stroke topics, and words like 'shiggles' and 'blar'... Though, if I could, I think I would rather have those moments back, so I hope you feel proud of yourselves. By the way, Gotcha back Grugg! That's what you get for messing with my wa!
Posted on 2007-08-08 at 17:59:46.
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Topic: Champions of Nomachron: Return to Arms
Subject: Sign me up!
Well, I have found some time to actually make a conscription post... I would love to be in the game, if you'll still have me. I'm about to go look at the Q/A to see if you've told me anything I need to know about the campaign, which I'm sure you have 
Posted on 2007-08-07 at 19:48:23.
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Topic: Peradyse Lost
Subject: Timberline
His heart skips a beat whilst waiting for the paladin's response, and he is relieved when she nods, and tells them to follow her into the woods. Though, his relief faulters when he considers that they are perhaps moving into a field of battle - one with potential casualties. He gives a nervous glance back towards Vatta, and his face reddens slightly when she winks at him. Cerric had the feeling that this was a bit of a game to mercenary Vatta, his only hope was that it was one she played to win...
*************************
Char suspiciously eyed the dragon who had fluttered into the sky. The raven had never been fond of dragons, or any mystical creature who flew. To him, the sky was the domain of the birds, and he felt as if his home was being intruded upon. It was obvious to him that the interloper was the guide to battle. Scanning the distance for signs of enemies lurking in the hills, perhaps preparing for an assault, he pondered the battle ahead, and more specifically the folly of men. Why would the master risk his life for strangers, who would likely direct him no compensation. Char had seen it all before. At the battle's end, it were not the holy man who was praised as a hero, but the biggest strongest warriors, whose head counts were the greatest... if only they could count, they would see that for every life taken, the Cleric had given as many lives back, back to the side of the victor, a side that would be lost in the drudge of war if not for such a man. The thankless hero, and yet, forward... into the fray!
Posted on 2007-08-06 at 00:50:40.
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Topic: Dim Lights of Sharn - Eberron
Subject: Anguish
Listening to the conversation at hand, it became evident that the murder was likely staged, at least in my eyes. Why else would the embassy send in a worthless pawn to investigate such a lethal crime, especially against someone as important as an ambassador? As the conversation grew in depth, and it was now apparent that the investigator was capricious in the collection of evidence, as he had been negligent in collecting the actual bolt that killed our dear friend Maurd. Nevertheless, this was a positive turn in events, as the Crimson Blades would be more likely to determine the poison coating used to kill with.
I felt of anguish when Landiir mentioned Maurd’s diary. There were very many things a blind man was incapable of doing… one such thing being reading. It brought forth feelings of uselessness that thundered through the foundations of my soul at times of great despair. It made me glad that my eyes were covered, as I wondered if this torture I felt reverberated through the cold static of my sightless eyes, as though in my blindness, it was possible to peer directly into my mind. Eyes are a one way mirror, and the reason for my fault lay in the fact that these mirrors had been placed in reverse by whatever gods have made me. Thus, I wear the blindfold, to ensure that the book of my soul lay closed, bound by cloth, as if it were not figurative, but a literal manifest of thoughts and fears.
Landiir bids them farewell, and more than anything else, I hear the clang of metal pound and scrape across the floor of the tavern towards the door… furthering my belief that edge is in fact Warforged. Then there was the screech of a chair, coming from the direction that Draven held fast within his darkness. Were we preparing to head out? The base would be difficult to find from The Lone Tower, if I lost the rest of the group that is, but if the one who stood was Draven, perhaps he was leaving alone. After all, Nel had just requested more liquor from the Bartender.
Poor Discq, though, I felt no pity for the man… I had never even seen the uncanny beauty of elven women, as they had been described. Woman, at least as far as I could tell, were afraid of my blindness… or perhaps I was ugly, and unable to tell. My mother tells me I look like a girl, though I refuse to let her cut my hair, it feels comforting when the bangs grow to cover my useless eyes, and the feel of the wind blowing through my mane soothes the occasional headache - headaches I receive due to pressure changes throughout the day. Even still, what I would secretly give to feel the hairless curve of an elven maid, though this was a fanciful dream. To touch without sight is in some ways a curse. Often I have found beauty in things most horrid to others, such as the tingling creep of a tarantula on my back, or the cool slime of an earthworm…
A loud shout from the corner of the room broke me away from my thoughts, and allowed the fear of the dark to return to my cloudy existence. There was a man looking for Nel, and he did not come alone. I stood, knocking my chair as far away from me as possible, bringing back the mental notes of the objects around me, which included a table at my front, and a few chairs surrounding me. Grasping the top knot of my makeshift holster, I pulled free the spiked chain from my side, holding it firmly with both hands in the centre ring. After hearing the man call for his comrades, I listened intently to the movement around me. Some time before there had been the sounds of a bout, and now there had been silence from that corner for quite some time. In fact, if my judgement was sober, the stumbling of drunken creatures in retreat had been a hint that there was a victor… I wondered if the winners were any worse for the ware. Likely not.
“My friends! Give me direction… I do not wish to be left in the dark!” I cried out. My allies had known me long enough, and would utter out the direction of my enemy as if pointing to the coordinates on a map. For some time now, I had been able to discern with preternatural ability, the direction of north. Likely something to do with the magnetic polarity of the poles, and the iron deposits in the blood of my nose. Regardless, north was a tickle in my facial cavities… though not overwhelming in the least.
As I readied myself for an attack, I began to concentrate on the area surrounding me. Listening for the knocking of arrows, the whirl of a sling, preparing for the impossible reflexes of my mentor’s teaching to protect me, as if in my limbs lay his voice, and in my mind his sight.
(This is to say that Mongiere will take a ready action, and if/when an enemy attacks, I will pre-emptively strike out with my spiked chain, keeping in mind my reach is 10 feet. This is of course assuming my initiative is high enough to hold my action for them. If not I guess I’ll pray for a dodge!)
Posted on 2007-08-06 at 00:28:16.
Edited on 2007-08-06 at 11:32:38 by Philosopher
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Topic: Groovy Juicy Gamesessions!!!!
Subject: Zook Turen
I was the dungeon master of a game where my girlfriend was the only player (she is now my fiance). She chose to be a male gnome bard. The setting was one of my favourite cities in the land of Drakenhorde; a self made campaign setting, the city being called Drydock. It was a city build on planks of wood a hundred feet above the sands of the desert, which was called the Eye of the Dragon because it lay in the middle of three connecting mountain ridges that ran across the island continent of Drakenhorde. The reason for this was the Purple worms that inhabited the sands and devoured any other living thing in sight. At the beginning of the campaign we see Zook getting of a gnomish airship - the only method of travelling to the city, and witnessing the persecution of a young boy for theft; the punishment of such being that his hand is cleaved off. She immediately begins to fight with the guard of the city, who are fortunately generous enough to let Zook live. Temporarily stopping the persecution of the boy, Zook is nevertheless brought to prison, where charges of attempted murder are laid upon him. Well, another, older gnome confronts him in his cell, offering freedom in return for Zook's services. The older gnome's name was Grimlock, and his apparent reasoning for the generosity was due to the little boy being a servant of his. Suffice to say Zook warily agrees, and they begin a trade of services. Grimlock is powerful enough in the political spectrum of the city to wipe the bard's slate clean, and the bard is eager to discover the treasures hidden within the desert sands... On the way out of Grimlock's mansion, Zook discovers the child, locked in a cage, feeding on raw scraps of meat. He rescues him, and asks his name, which he replies is "filthy rat"... Deciding that this will simply not do, he renames the boy "Pin". Which seems oddly appropriate.
To shorten this up, because it would be drastically long otherwise... Pin has a secret. He is actually a wererat, born with disease, he is a natural shifter, who becomes a very powerful ally to the gnomish bard.
I had a lot of fun mixing races in this campaign, and decidedly gave her a multitude of npc's to help her as allies on her journey to find the Dragon Relics, as Grimlock had called them. There was Five in all, The eye, The Tooth, The Claw, The Scale, and The Breathe. After acquiring the first, the eye, Grimlock let Zook in on a little secret... Zook had within him the blood of a dragon, somewhere down the line, and with Grimlock's guidance, he would unlock the powers within. Much to Grimlock's secret dismay, the ancestor was a Gold Dragon, but nevertheless, Zook was becoming a Dragon Disciple.
By now, Pin's secret was known to Zook, and they ventured into a temple, where they met Grins, the Half Goblin, Half Gnome, who literally hated himself, and was a self-destructive Chaotic Neutral Cleric who was quite insane, and fought with nothing but his armour, spiked as it were. He fought quite well in fact. So the party was coming together... After retrieving yet another artifact, Zook was given an additional level in Dragon Disciple, and was now allowed to learn on his own accord thereafter, granted he had the experience.
They met up with a female halfling/dwarf, who had black eyes and red hair, and was a practicing sorceress. She had been assaulted by a guard who had taken a fancy to her, and unfairly ceased, so Zook with his high morality attempted to save her, only to have most of the party, as well as the guards consumed by a fireball. They escaped into the sewers, where they found an underground grotto of kobolds and goblins, who were plotting against the city, attempting to destroy the foundation and plunge it into the sands. After thwarting that scheme, they continued on their quest for Dragon artifacts, until clues led to the revelation that Grimlock was a lich, who was once a powerful Black Dragon, that had been robbed of his form when a powerful wizard trapped him as a gnome, and placed separate parts of a Dragon's body all over the desert. These were in fact Phylacteries of the now Lich Grimlock, that when returned to him, would resurrect the Dragon spirit from within, and allow him to rain destruction upon the land. Zook, thinking fast destroyed the last remaining artifact, which put Grimlock in a frenzy. He had much of his power restored however, and began to command the armies of the undead and led them on an assault of the city. However, The full extent of Zook's Dragon Lineage had been discovered by then, and I ended the campaign with a powerful cliff hanger, that showed the Half-Dragon Zook Turen with his entourage, staring down an army of undead, whilst the lich Grimlock oversaw the end battle between good and evil...
Posted on 2007-08-02 at 16:29:42.
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Topic: Dim Lights of Sharn - Eberron
Subject: Darkness
“This is The Lone Tower milord,” I heard the servant say, “will you require my assistance within, or shall I say good eve and depart?” With a smile, I reached my calloused hands up to the man’s shoulder, creeping from that reference to the soft skin of his neck. He remained clean shaven, as was proper for a house servant. His hair dripped rain upon the curve of my knuckles, the poor man was drenched, as was I, though a cloak I had stolen from my father’s coat chamber left my clothing merely damp. A torrent of sound surrounded the nature of a storm. The rain ploughing into the ground as if it were the thousand footsteps of an army in heaven. The whistle of the wind between the many towers of Sharn, as though the fury of the elements forbade the end of man. The thunder, as though the gods beat their drums of war. I had been told about lightning, felt its shape in a jagged shard of glass, and told it’s colour was that of my sightless eyes. It was almost flattering, though surrounding me lay darkness. Darkness, however, without the context of light, I knew not what that meant… though I knew it was something I feared.
“No Sebastian,” I said, gently cupping my fingers around his neck, “though I am a weak man, I rather care that my friends do not see me as such… You may return home, I do not know how long this may take.” Slowly, I unhanded him, let him slip into the void. The world of the blind was a guessing game. Each step was a leap into the abyss, as was the last, and those yet to come. After feeling around for a moment, I found the handle of the entrance door, and breached the perimeter of the establishment. Shuffling myself out of the way of traffic, I pressed my back against the wall, and took in my surroundings. The smell of the air was muggy, like the rot of leather, which was probably not far from the truth. Many who ventured this tavern were likely soldiers, mercenaries, or plain adventurers. Pick pockets frequented these places as well I imagined - thieves, who were notorious for dressing in leather…
I listened. The sound of tones out of key, as the gluttony of what sounded like shrieking cats became apparent in the lack of volume control. There was someone yelling; it was a powerful, booming voice that rose above the din of the tavern. A wooden thud, as though a table or chair had been pushed into a wall, or levelled to the hardened floor. The chime of glasses, perhaps a toast, or simply a bar maiden retrieving empties. With all this noise, only one thing struck me as familiar, and odd. Not a sound, but yet… the screaming of my soul. Draven.
He was gravity, unlike any other in my life, I could feel this man, and if there were a chance that someone else possessed this trait, the coincidence would be astonishing… for tonight, I had been summoned by an old ally, and being summoned alone was unlikely. No, Landiir would want the full force of The Crimson Blades. Knowing this, I slowly stumble forward, towards the black hole, that pulled at the pit in my heart. Guiding myself forward with a numb hand, I felt a sudden grasping claw upon my wrist, as a harsh voice teemed into the sockets of my mind. “Are you lost?”
It was him all right, as I had thought, at once feeling berated for the curse that was forced upon me. No matter, my temper would remain as cold as the icicles within his chest. “I have found exactly what I was looking for, so, in a sense no. Though, I am surrounded by the haze of a world at all times unfamiliar. I am lost in my findings, one could say. How are you, unseen stranger?”
With a scoff, Draven IreDante released his hold upon my arm, and being that he was inept of salutations, I preceded to find a chair among the many stranded in the wake of patrons prior. There, I realized, after some concentration that Draven was not the only acquaintance who had made it here on this cold rainy night. In fact, Discq had arrived all ready, and was nearly comatose due to his inebriated manner. A quick start, even for him. The ladies were not too far behind, though they gave little in the way of greetings, perhaps they had nodded, for what little use it was to me.
Then finally the man of the hour arrived. Landiir d’Tharashk, and an assistant he referred to as Edge. A Warforged name if ever there was one. Ironic, in that Landiir had also introduced the construct as his muscle, a physical impossibility, yet an undeniable truth. ‘Why had he summoned us here,’ I thought, ‘was there no better place than such a frequented establishment?’
“…Our own Maurd Dalaan is dead. Murdered on his way from the embassy…”
Maurd Dalaan was a memorable man. Though I hadn’t fought with him personally, he had been one of very few who could transform his voice, mask it from my sensitive hearing. Sometimes I believed that he were a stranger in the midst of friends. Perhaps they are all strangers... As Landiir described the incident in more detail, I began to question the merit of the information he bore. Maurd was not likely assassinated in such a blunder, what more was missing from this puzzle? If only I could see the edges of the jigsaw, to feel them without being able to grasp the connection of the whole made it all quite useless. I lacked a deductive mind… physicians related me as slower than most. Though my mother insisted that the time it took was due to my focus, and not my derisive flaw.
Draven and Nel requested more insight into the matter, whilst Discq threw his guarantee of assistance into the air to be snatched with the repercussions of immediate choice - the kind that lacked consideration. Though I myself wanted to help my old friend Landiir, I was concerned that if our company were caught investigating this secretive matter, it would tarnish our names - my name, and the name of my house. What would father think then… that I were a scoundrel. There were laws for a reason, though this was more than that, this was a broken rule. One that left a member of our own deceased, and discarded, without appropriate exploration into the wrongdoing of an incognito faction. What else lie beneath the innuendo of Landiir’s story, where lay the intrinsic value of a life now gone…
Posted on 2007-08-02 at 15:10:58.
Edited on 2007-08-02 at 15:26:01 by Philosopher
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Topic: The Would You Rather Game
Subject: It Doesn't Matter if I'm Black or White?
Oprah, Dr. Phil is a Quack.
This is more of a dilemma. If you were forced to choose between sacrificing your child, or beginning the war of apocalypse, would you rather save your child's life, or prevent the world's end?
Posted on 2007-08-01 at 14:31:43.
Edited on 2007-08-01 at 14:33:01 by Philosopher
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Topic: Eberron Campaign Recruiting
Subject: War Story
Mongiere was a foot-soldier in a battle between Breland and Karrnath, over highly disputed territory that had been annexed from Cyre. Breland had the upper hand, possessing more troops of caste status, a better trained conscript army, and an impressive force of warforged - but then the spring rains made the battlefield into a pool of mud, and as the sickness rose amongst the ranks, a plague consumed the forces. This alone would not have turned the tide of the battle, except that the necromancers of the Karrnath defiled the casualties of the plague, making them into flesh eating abominations, and every soldier that fell only added to the ranks of the Karrnathian army.
Eventually there was a raid that pushed the army back to the border of Breland in a single night, however, Mongiere Quinn’eshierm neither retreated, or became a victim to the undead menace that overcame the rest of the Breland men. He was found on the morning after, badly wounded, and surrounded by circles upon circles of dead men and animate corpses alike. The soldiers of Karrnath took him as a prisoner of war, where months later, his families influence had ensured a trade of captives that safely brought him home.
It was then where he was offered a position in a special task force unit - the story of his impossible stand had spread like wildfire through the noble community, and it hadn’t been long before the military verified such an account of his heroism. Mongiere had accepted and met up with the rest of the crew shortly after.
Posted on 2007-08-01 at 12:36:52.
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Topic: Peradyse Lost
Subject: Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow
"My lady... would you have us accompany you on your quest, or shall we head forthright into the fray at Eventide?" Cerric was at once alarmed by the sudden momentum of the world, as all think came to the finite point of war, which in itself was an unpredictable circumstance that could only be resolutely determined in hindsight. He feared the answer, for the feeling of safety the elven paladin instilled was a necessity to the man's nerves, as he fought with himself to remain calm. He had fought before, though, not in a war, and what with his lack of knowledge in large skirmishes, he felt vulnerable. The mystic theurge then fixated his peripheral focus on Vatta. 'She will protect me,' he thought, with a childish assurance, what more could it be, he knew not her nature, or the outcome of this battle... 'The gods will keep me safe.'
Posted on 2007-08-01 at 12:06:23.
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Topic: Eberron Campaign Recruiting
Subject: More about Mongiere
Well, unfortunately, I still need more sleep, and I have to work tonight. However, I just want to note that I edited my character sheet for the last time... All I did was add the flaw of blinded, and the corresponding feat Weapon Finesse. This changed my attack bonus as well, which I adjusted.
Valimar also mentioned something about Action points, and I was remiscent in including them, mostly on account that I haven't gotten that far in my studies. I hope that you can include them with my character sheet within the Q/A thread.
One additional thing, I believe that if it is to your approval Skari-dono, I would like Mongiere's family to live in the Northedge of Sharn, somewhere in the upper levels... I still need until tomorrow to complete the full history, but I have a bit of it down in the recruitment all ready. Sorry for my hesitations, but as you say, one must manage real life, and keep the fiction in moderation. I must also remember tomorrow that I am in another game, lol.
Posted on 2007-07-31 at 21:48:28.
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Topic: Eberron Campaign Recruiting
Subject: Skari-dono, Regarding that email...
I sent you a list of attachments, under the name obqlilpdo. I wrote my screen name, Philosopher in the subject. Those files should definitely work, I am quite excited.
Posted on 2007-07-31 at 03:11:15.
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Topic: Eberron Campaign Recruiting
Subject: Character Sheet
Mongiere Quinn'esherm
Level Four Blind Master
Human
Lawful Neutral
Medium Sized
Appearance: Electric blue eyes, dark red hair, freckled white skin. Muscular and thin.
STR 14 MOD 2
DEX 16 MOD 3
CON 12 MOD 1
INT 9 MOD -1
WIS 16 MOD 3
CHA 13 MOD 1
HP 26
AC 16 (DEX +3, WIS +3)
Touch 16
Flat-footed 16
Initiative 7 (DEX +3, Improved Initiative)
Speed 22ft
FORT 5 (Base +4, ABI 1)
REF 7 (Base +4, ABI 3)
WILL 7 (Base +4, ABI 3)
Base Attack Bonus 3
Grapple 5 (Base +3, Str +2)
ATTACK
Masterwork Spiked Chain
Attack Bonus +7 (Base +3, Dex +3, Masterwork +1)
Damage 2d4 +3 (Str + two-handed modifier)
Piercing
GEAR
Monk's Outfit
Ring of Feather fall
Signet Ring (family emblem)
OTHER POSSESSIONS
Backpack
Bedroll
Flint and steel
signal whistle
Hemp Rope
Piton
Golembane Scarab
Weight carried - 29.5 lbs
Carrying Capacity
Light load 58<
Medium load 116<
Heavy load 175<
FLAWS
Blinded
FEATS
Blind-fight
Improved Initiative
Skill Focus: Concentration
Exotic Weapon Proficiency: Spiked Chain
Combat Expertise
SPECIAL ABILITY
Instinct
Sightless Strike 1/day
Evasion
Heightened Senses I
Know Direction
Uncanny Dodge
Circle of Defense 1/day
LANGUAGES
Common
Skills
Balance 5 (DEX 3, Ranks 2)
Climb 2 (STR 2)
Concentration 11 (CON 1, Rank 7, Skill focus 3)
Diplomacy 3 (CHA 1, Ranks 2)
Escape Artist 5 (DEX 3, Ranks 2)
Hide 3 (DEX 3)
Jump 2 (STR 2)
Listen 12 (Wis 3, Ranks 7, Acute hearing 2)
Move Silently 3 (DEX 3)
Sense Motive 7 (Wis 3, ranks 4)
Swim 2 (STR 2)
Tumble 7 (DEX 3, ranks 4)
Posted on 2007-07-31 at 02:20:30.
Edited on 2007-08-01 at 22:27:48 by Philosopher
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Topic: Eberron Campaign Recruiting
Subject: Dice Roll
2 6 4 4 Your total roll is 14, which included dropping your low roll of 2
2 6 1 1 Your total roll is 9, which included dropping your low roll of 1
4 3 3 5 Your total roll is 12, which included dropping your low roll of 3
6 4 3 2 Your total roll is 13, which included dropping your low roll of 2
5 5 6 4 Your total roll is 16, which included dropping your low roll of 4
1 6 4 5 Your total roll is 15, which included dropping your low roll of 1
HP Rolls
6 7 6 3 Your total roll is 22
Posted on 2007-07-31 at 00:16:37.
Edited on 2007-07-31 at 00:27:51 by Philosopher
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Topic: Eberron Campaign Recruiting
Subject: The Birth of a Master
Tehee, I will make my character today, and we will see the prelims of the class. Skari, I hope you have Microsoft Works, because I do not have Office, and so my excel sheet is not compatible with anything other than html, which i can send out I suppose... let me know please.
Posted on 2007-07-30 at 20:01:57.
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Topic: Eberron Campaign Recruiting
Subject: Mongiere Quinn'eshierm
Weird name I know... This is the name of my character. I have established a past for him, but I still need to tie him into the war, the group, and an environment, such as his place of birth, and where he comes from. In any case, because his class info is at home all I can provide is background at this point, I will update it with setting info afterwards... now this was all from a scribble on multiple napkins during my cousins wedding reception so don't judge me :p
He suffers from a rogue albino gene that left him blind at birth, though besides his electric blue eyes, his skin is lively and his hair a deep red. Purely out of preference he wears a blindfold, which is both conforting and unnerving to his enemies, as they realize he has little problem cutting to the heart of them.
Born into a family of warrior caste nobles, he was seen as a major disappointment. He would have been disowned if not for the love of his stepmother; his mother died in child birth, due to the complications she had with his twin sister, who was unfortunately still born.
Mongiere had initial problems with language, as he was unable to connect a speaker to the words he was hearing. Out of fear that her baby miracle would be mute and thus entirely dead to the world, she sought out the help of a kalishtarian monk whose psychic aptitude had been helpful with children possessing similar disabilities. It would be a bond that would become the most influential of the young Quinn'eshierm's life. After dealing with the blind child's learning disfunction, the monk immersed Mongiere in a modified monastic regimen that helped develop the young boys senses and mind, as well as his reflexed and physical nature. As part of this modification, he trained the boy in his families most revered weapon, the spiked chain, focusing on defense.
I know, it is missing the link between our group and himself, but I will work out where his family calls home, and how he got involved in the war. My main idea is that his father still had no love for young Mongiere, and so to prove himself worthy of the family name he went and joined the war, and when he returned one of the few heroes that survived, he found that his father was nevertheless indifferent to the boy, and even though he is an adult now, part of him still wants to please his father.
note: changed his family weapon to the spiked chain.
Posted on 2007-07-29 at 20:59:58.
Edited on 2007-07-31 at 01:01:20 by Philosopher
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Topic: Eberron Campaign Recruiting
Subject: About My Involvement
Skari-dono, I have left you a detailed private message about my character. I am sorry I did not get the post about sending you information until after my departure, elsewise I would be able to tell you more about it. Please let me know what you think of my idea.
Posted on 2007-07-28 at 08:58:49.
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Topic: Eberron Campaign Recruiting
Subject: More Books to Download!
If I am correct, I have counted five applicants, might I be the sixth? The only time I have ever been involved in Eberron was when playing Dungeons & Dragons online, however, I believe it would be a glorious adventure! My one problem is that I am gone for the weekend, and away from the computer, so my character would have to wait until Monday or Tuesday, just before the new month.
Once I have a bit of background on the gaming experience of the multifaceted realm of Eberron, I may have a few characters in mind...
Posted on 2007-07-27 at 05:45:10.
Edited on 2007-07-27 at 05:58:37 by Philosopher
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Topic: Peradyse Lost
Subject: Maps of a Mind Unchartered
Cerric chuckled at the question. By nature, Clerics are passive, or at least, those who follow a well aligned god. They interfere in combat to heal and fight against those whose dogma or purpose was in conflict with their very system of belief. Also, very few clerics suffer the undead to walk the earth, the abominations that they are. In the case of an Oghma priest, there was very little else for them to do but gain knowledge, and prevent it's destruction, or it's falsification - as well as leave it open to the masses, to prevent the hording of knowledge... "In fact, at the abbey of Lornewall, there was very little else to do but read. There was the occasional victims of illness, even a plague or two in the time I spent there, but no monsters or militants of any kind, the Hamlet itself is within a valley, hidden from plain sight, and even then, it is of little interest..."
He looked ahead to see what the rest of the train was doing, and wondered how long they had been traveling. Considering his profession was cartography, he knew very little about this particular part of the land. Journeying to Eventide under any other circumstance would be an enthralling gesture. He would have to map the place when all was said and done.
Returning his attention to the exquisite beauty of Vatta's visage, he remarked in an assuring tone, "I am quite capable of holding my own, I assure you, and carry a big stick in case thine foe comes too close." and with that he smiles softly, and turns his attention back to the mane of his mare, caressing it gently, cooing at the horse as a means of keeping its pace. He really had no idea how to handle an animal of such exotic breeding.
Posted on 2007-07-25 at 13:29:26.
Edited on 2007-07-25 at 13:30:07 by Philosopher
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Topic: Peradyse Lost
Subject: The Noble Vagabond
Could it be that he hit a soft spot, that the dagger of his words sliced in between the studs of her leather armour and directly to her heart? He was bemused by this intimate frailty, as if she were bashful… but he was likely reading too far into this matter. Perhaps she was ashamed of the life she led. He could find out everything about her with a few incomprehensible utterings, and the intricate weaving of his hands. The Mystic Theurge knew more about the divine than he sometimes cared to. His sleep was often restless… he would awake not knowing if his dreams were simply figments of a dreary mind, or the premonitions of days to come.
However, he rarely found merit in this brand of personal intrusion. She was no threat to him, in fact, she was to be his protector, or so she said. From what he had heard about Elven warriors, he was relieved… For how small they were, as a people, they had survived numerous encounters with the barbaric and feral denizens of the goblinoids, and the orcish tribes. He had no passion for combat, and mainly used his quarterstaff for the purpose of walking up hills, and across unlevelled terrain. This meant he was glad to have another acting as on his behalf.
“The mercenary… most noble of all vagabonds. It is they who do the work of many, for the pay of few. They leave behind all form of politics, or intertwined bias. They may live by their own rules, cutting a path in what way they see fit… In essence, it enables one to be true to themselves. The mission is not what controls them, they choose what the right job is for themselves. You are a woman of truly divine purpose!” He smiled and nodded to her, showing respect. It was a mock gesture, but the intention was to break her free of the awkwardness that Vatta felt towards him. He was not a venerable man. In fact, she was likely a hundred years older than him. This was in fact, the reason for his avoidance of Elven crushes. Cerric could not imagine the pain of growing older, as his loved one remained unnaturally young, worse still, his heart broke for the poor Elven maid watching as her loved one deteriorated before her very eyes. Beautiful amber eyes…
“You sound as though you are quite skilled. Perhaps we should discuss our tactics while the journey remains slowed.” He watched ahead, as the wagon horses slowed to a trot once again, it reminded him of his younger years, where he would be forced to pull the old farm plough. He was glad now, for his life, even if it possibly ended tonight. He doubted this fate however, Oghma had far more planned for this young lad.
He hoped.
Posted on 2007-07-23 at 02:58:49.
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Topic: Peradyse Lost
Subject: Beautiful Eyes
Cerric turned to the soft voice alongside him, delighting in the interest presented about him, otherwise one could cut the insipid journey with a knife - although the stars were quite beautiful sparkling between the cracks of the foliage above. He turned his attention her way, and was momentarily stunned by the glamour of her amber eyes in what very little light remained, as the forest consumed much of the moons glow. Her eyes glowed like a cat, reflecting the light of the stars and the torches as if behind her lids lie mirrors, on guard to deflect any intrusive illuminations. They were almost golden in this manner, which was a very majestic combination with her silvery hair…
“I am,” he said, after regaining his bearings, “a patron of Oghma, ‘The Binder of What is Known’. He is the Lord of Knowledge, and I am a student of the world.” The priest absent-mindedly stroked the mane of his mount, who was more stunning than any creature he had summoned in his life. If he were able to keep it, he would have had to think up a name as quintessentially grand as the mare itself. “What is it exactly, that you do? You appear to have a range of weapons with you, but that says very little of your profession, even merchants are heavily guarded in these most dour of times.”
**************************************
Sleek as the night, he streamed through the air, pressing his body upon the dying thermals of the summer’s day, keeping stride with his master, even when he had to beat his wings with an exuberance that could put a hummingbird to shame. When they road fast, the journey was loathsome, and Char would need to fight against all manner of wind and dead zones alike, though when they slowed to give the wagon horses a rest, he would search out warm pockets of air to glide on with his preternatural senses, so that he might take a breather as well before the rush began anew. He glimpsed the Mystic Theurge through the trees on occasion, but left the guiding to their telepathic connection, as his eyesight was of little use in the dark, or at the very least, less useful than that of an owl’s. The battle ahead would be a dangerous one, chirped the thoughts within the tiny head of the oily black bird, he wondered how he would best serve his master. He knew that he was able to deliver touch attacks for Cerric, and if he could surprise the enemy from behind, there was a reduced chance of either of them being harmed…
Posted on 2007-07-22 at 12:55:38.
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Topic: Peradyse Lost
Subject: The Vision
He felt the breeze become a chill, as the sun exhaled it's final sigh before the night took the world into it's stranglehold. Chestnut orbs purveyed the surrounding forces of violence gathering, absorbing the surrealistic air of things far greater than one man... no matter the power beyond his flesh. Cerric's mind raced as he turned to the approaching Elven figure. He did not hear what she had said, but watched her expression, as she jestingly winked and smiled. Was this a game? Would that make him little more than a token, a piece to be pushed by fate? The hardened logic behind the façade of his face descended upon his absurdities with a righteous fury, peeling away the abstractions of his overbearing soul, and ushering in the mask of preparedness he would don for those around him. His purpose in this war would be to suffer for the weak, and burn through the night a pyre of bodies that otherwise would submit a nation, if the power were theirs to grasp.
“I am ready as I am my lady, I have yet to unpack any of my things.” He raised his hand to the mane of the Paladin’s mount, stroking presumptuous fingers through the tufts of it’s hair. When he withdrew his arm, shed hair remained between the Priest’s fingers, though, this was secretly a hope of his…
He had used the power of arcana before when summoning a mount, though, he rarely had need for the materials that other wizards required. Regardless, he pondered on the breed of his horse with the triggering matter being that of an Elven Moonstrider. There was little way to know, until he tried. Cerric closed his eyes briefly, and began humming to himself. Slowly the hum became a thundering roar, that seemed to emanate not from the man, but the clouds, as though they spoke through him. Then came impossible words, words that had no meaning - syllables of gibberish that pertained to the very fabric of the planes. They were tones and vibrations that were tied into events such as genesis, and Armageddon, Cerric had often contemplated the beauty of the harpsichord that wailed its final melody as the end of days came to consume the world. The Mystic Theurge then opened his eyes, though they had been replaced - no longer brown, but gold, with as shine like the sun. It was almost as if the fiery orb had left the world to pry itself into the very being of this man, if only for an instant, for as soon as the cants of calling ceased, so to did the glory of the Daystar within him and the orbs of light became his overly inquisitive eyes once more. The ground shook lightly, as a void in the air beside him tore apart, and then folded into itself, as if something pulled at the womb of air that surrounded them all, until finally, the ghostly vision of a horse appeared before the warmongers, who prepared for the worst, and imagined only the best.
“This will be my mount for the journey,” he said to no one in particular, watching from the corner of his eye as the summoned mount continued to materialize before their very eyes. “but do forgive my manners, I am Cerric Khalidran.”
Cerric averts his eyes from the Elven Paladin upon her horse, to the newly returned, Vatta Silvestia “If you are to be my lifeline, then I am most honoured to make your acquaintance.” Shifting his eyes from the surreptitious Vatta, so that they once again were fixated upon the prominent Elven knight, whose name was far too long to catch after only a single introduction, his gaze warily wandered to the dragon cohort that clutched gracefully upon the Paladin’s armoured shoulder. A more exotic specimen he had never encountered, as he wondered about the stage of life this particular wyrm was currently undergoing.
“ Well, don’t we all make an interesting coalition… I suppose we should be off then, and let’s hope the sun rises tomorrow!” With those last words, he begins to mount his horse, whatever brand it may have turned out to be, and prepares to ride hard through the thick of night - to where impending dread lay sitting in the depths of his stomach.
Posted on 2007-07-20 at 11:05:20.
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Topic: Peradyse Lost
Subject: Dilemma
Startled by the alarm, Cerric Khalidran sends the raven into flight, ordering the bird to keep a look out from up above. Surveying the commotion around him, he watches as the armed militant trots in barking commands, admiring the way he takes charge of the situation. 'An Orc invasion?' he thinks to himself, "well, that is certainly not what I had planned for the evening... what a strange turn of events..." Cerric had very little experience dealing with Orcs. He had learned their language merely out of curiousity, and knew enough to say that their languages basic written form was a bastardization of dwarvish runes. Besides that, he knew that the barbaric society the Orcs endured was one of the few reasons that they were not a dominating force against the world's more civilized cultures. After all; although they most certainly have the might, they lack the qualities of good leadership, and group commitment. In fact, the chieftan only remained in power so long as he maintained his strength above that of other potential leaders within his tribe.
The young Mystic Theurge concentrated on the choices at hand. He was indeed a skilled cleric that could essentially save an innumberable amount of lives, so avoiding this confrontation would be unconscionable. As well, adding his arcane prestige into the equation made him an asset for combat against the forces of the hordes that were approaching. Cerric did not know where he would be needed most however. He hadn't been paying attention to whether there were more priest's within the town, though he would have most certainly been keen to the presence of a cleric of Talos. However, if Eventide was to be the front line against the Orc's attacks, that would be where the most casualties lie, and where he would be needed most. He looked up at the two riders, the human knight, and female elf, and the solution to his dilemma was suddenly quite apparent. He would simply ask where he could best serve a purpose.
He strode up to the Elven Moonstrider, which was a rare treat to say the least - he had only seen the horse in the illustrations provided in dusty old tomes back at the library in the abbey of Lornewall, and turned his gaze from one beauty to the next, although he was not particularly fond of elven women in that sense. He spoke to her in elven tongue, although to her his accent would be rather heavy, it was his least practiced conversational language, even though he read it quite fluently. "I am a Priest of Oghma, and may be of great service to your cause. If Eventide is well endowed with healers, then I should remain here and do what I can, but the choice is yours my lady."
Posted on 2007-07-16 at 12:46:46.
Edited on 2007-07-16 at 14:18:03 by Philosopher
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Topic: Peradyse Lost
Subject: A Reversal in Time
(I have changed my previous post to reflect the new information given. I still need to know however, what time of day it is, and what the raven saw and heard in the tavern. Also, I must know if he suspects I have been followed.)
Posted on 2007-07-15 at 20:40:30.
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Topic: Peradyse Lost
Subject: Purple Skies Askew
(If I was mistaken, as I most likely was, I will say that me and my raven friend made a much longer trek than it would have seemed. Rather than a short walk, Cerric would have instead been distracted for a few days. I realize that if I wandered too far there may be encounters, so with that in mind, perhaps it is sufficient to say his further intention after making camp for the night or two it takes to get to the other town, is in fact to visit the outpost of Knights and Wizards in any sense. He is curious about their presence... I will post a correctional camping post if I do indeed need an overt amount of time. With my ring of sustenance however, I only require 2 hours of sleep, 1 hour of meditation, and 1 hour of spell memorizing. Just like an elf )
Posted on 2007-07-14 at 22:23:17.
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