DND 3.5 "Pain Pride and Prejudice" [Interest/Recruiting]
- Thread starter Tiali
- Start date
Creamsteak
Explorer
After looking over some different ways to try to build the character I imagine and then realizing that it doesn't work out too great mechanically (although that usually wouldn't stop me) I think the better choice would be to build a Knight. I'll stick with the orc though.
Thanks for asking guys, just realized I left out a couple pieces of info.
Starting wealth is DMG standard; 2,700 at 3rd level.
HP is calculated at max: Fighter has d10 hp, will receive 10+con every level. Wizard has d4, 4+con, etc.
Point buys have a minimum stat of 8. You dont spend any extra points if you leave your stats at 8, and you dont get more points by lowering the 8.
If you have any other game based questions please post them, and I will edit this post to include the answers.
Starting wealth is DMG standard; 2,700 at 3rd level.
HP is calculated at max: Fighter has d10 hp, will receive 10+con every level. Wizard has d4, 4+con, etc.
Point buys have a minimum stat of 8. You dont spend any extra points if you leave your stats at 8, and you dont get more points by lowering the 8.
If you have any other game based questions please post them, and I will edit this post to include the answers.
Last edited:
pneumatik
The 8th Evil Sage
Okay, here's my PC's background. I'll try to get stats up tonight.
Torl
[sblock=Background]Torl tells a lot of stories about his life. What’s true is that he left home for the first time a month after his sixteenth birthday. The same day, he discovered he was adopted. It was early spring, and Torl was preparing for the athletic competitions held at each summer fair and festival by wresting with his older brother Dalryn. Wrestling was a popular form on competition in the area, and Torl was good at it.
It was during their match the Torl underwent his first shift. Were this a tragedy, Torl would have grown claws or horns and killed his brother. Instead, his skin thickened, saving Torl from which might have been a fatal blow to his head when he fell to the ground and hit a rock.
He was frightened, of course. No human did anything like that! Dalryn was supportive, but Torl could see hatred in his brother’s eyes, hatred of Torl’s inhuman-ness. When he told his parents what happened, they explained that he was not their child. They found him as a baby in their field one day, after hearing him cry. His mother liked to think she caught a glimpse of someone running away, but his father was confident there was no such person. His parents both told him they still loved him, but Torl couldn’t stay.
He learned quickly that surviving on your own in the wilderness is not as easy as stories make it out to be. The fair weather helped him, but soon he found himself taking jobs in nearby towns for money. He never stayed anywhere for more than a week or two, just long enough to buy some more food, and then he went back out to be alone again. He only shifted twice more, both times when his life was at risk in the wild.
By autumn he realized that he couldn’t survive the winter alone. He went back home and stayed with his family until spring arrived. It was a tense time. No one spoke about Torl’s first shift, so he never found out if his parents or Dalryn told anyone else what had happened. There was also general resentment that Torl hadn’t helped with planting or harvest.
That spring he left again. He found a good place to live, several days away from the nearest settlement, with enough open space for subsistence farming. Then he returned home just long enough for him, Dalryn, and their father to pack some tools and leave with him. The three spent almost a month building Torl a sturdy one-room hut, preparing his land for planting, and making basic farming implements, before Dalryn and their father left again. They parted on good terms, but Torl knew he’d never see them again.
The first year was tough, but Torl survived. He enjoyed being a hermit. He answered to no one but himself. Without society he couldn’t embarrass himself. He practiced shifting, trying to get a better understanding of how it worked. His initial goal was to be better at suppressing it. Living alone has a funny way of eroding social norms, though. Eventually, he stopped feeling quite so terrible about being able to shift. He couldn't help but realize that sometimes it was a useful ability. And with no one else around, it was hard to worry about being different – different from who?
It took several years, but eventually Torl become comfortable with who he was. And that was when he realized that he was wasting his life. He didn't his time as a hermit, but it was time to move on.[/sblock]
[sblock=statblock]
Torl, Fighter 3
NG male Beasthide Shifter
Init +2 (+2 dex)
Senses: spot XX, listen XX; low-light vision
Languages: Common, Sylvan(bonus from int)
AC 17 (10 + 5 [chain shirt +1] + 2 [dex])
hp: 24 ([10+2]x2)
Saves: Fort +5 (+3 base +2 con), Ref +3 (+1 base +2 dex), Will +0 (+1 base -1 wis)
Speed: 30ft
Melee attack: +8 MW Falchion (2d4+4 dmg, 18-20x2)
Ranged attack: +6 MW Comp (+3str) Longbow (1d8+3, 20x3)
Base Attack: +3; Grapple: +6
Special actions: Shift (su): free action. 1/day for 6 rnds. +2 con and +4 natural armor
Abilities:
STR: 16 (+3) : 16 (10pts)
DEX: 14 (+2) : 12 (4pts) +2 racial
CON: 14 (+2) : 14 (6pts)
INT: 12 (+1) : 14 (6pts) -2 racial
WIS: 8 (-1) : (0pts)
CHR: 10 (+0) : 12 (4pts) -2 racial
Feats:
Dodge(f), Mobility(f), Weapon Focus (Falchion), Beasthide Elite
Skills:
Perform (dance) (cha): +3 (6 cc ranks, +0 cha)
Tumble (dex): +5 (6 cc ranks, +2 dex)
Jump (str): +11 (6 ranks, +3 str, +2 racial)
Racial abilities:
Low-light vision
+2 racial bonus on Balance, Climb, and Jump
Equipment:
+1 chain shirt: 1100gp
MW Falchion 425gp
MW Comp Longbow (+3str) 750gp
Everburning Torch: 110gp
25 tindertwigs: 25gp
backback, bedroll, adventuring clothes, food, etc.: 75 gp
Climber's kit: 80gp
135gp walking-around cash
[/sblock]
Torl
[sblock=Background]Torl tells a lot of stories about his life. What’s true is that he left home for the first time a month after his sixteenth birthday. The same day, he discovered he was adopted. It was early spring, and Torl was preparing for the athletic competitions held at each summer fair and festival by wresting with his older brother Dalryn. Wrestling was a popular form on competition in the area, and Torl was good at it.
It was during their match the Torl underwent his first shift. Were this a tragedy, Torl would have grown claws or horns and killed his brother. Instead, his skin thickened, saving Torl from which might have been a fatal blow to his head when he fell to the ground and hit a rock.
He was frightened, of course. No human did anything like that! Dalryn was supportive, but Torl could see hatred in his brother’s eyes, hatred of Torl’s inhuman-ness. When he told his parents what happened, they explained that he was not their child. They found him as a baby in their field one day, after hearing him cry. His mother liked to think she caught a glimpse of someone running away, but his father was confident there was no such person. His parents both told him they still loved him, but Torl couldn’t stay.
He learned quickly that surviving on your own in the wilderness is not as easy as stories make it out to be. The fair weather helped him, but soon he found himself taking jobs in nearby towns for money. He never stayed anywhere for more than a week or two, just long enough to buy some more food, and then he went back out to be alone again. He only shifted twice more, both times when his life was at risk in the wild.
By autumn he realized that he couldn’t survive the winter alone. He went back home and stayed with his family until spring arrived. It was a tense time. No one spoke about Torl’s first shift, so he never found out if his parents or Dalryn told anyone else what had happened. There was also general resentment that Torl hadn’t helped with planting or harvest.
That spring he left again. He found a good place to live, several days away from the nearest settlement, with enough open space for subsistence farming. Then he returned home just long enough for him, Dalryn, and their father to pack some tools and leave with him. The three spent almost a month building Torl a sturdy one-room hut, preparing his land for planting, and making basic farming implements, before Dalryn and their father left again. They parted on good terms, but Torl knew he’d never see them again.
The first year was tough, but Torl survived. He enjoyed being a hermit. He answered to no one but himself. Without society he couldn’t embarrass himself. He practiced shifting, trying to get a better understanding of how it worked. His initial goal was to be better at suppressing it. Living alone has a funny way of eroding social norms, though. Eventually, he stopped feeling quite so terrible about being able to shift. He couldn't help but realize that sometimes it was a useful ability. And with no one else around, it was hard to worry about being different – different from who?
It took several years, but eventually Torl become comfortable with who he was. And that was when he realized that he was wasting his life. He didn't his time as a hermit, but it was time to move on.[/sblock]
[sblock=statblock]
Torl, Fighter 3
NG male Beasthide Shifter
Init +2 (+2 dex)
Senses: spot XX, listen XX; low-light vision
Languages: Common, Sylvan(bonus from int)
AC 17 (10 + 5 [chain shirt +1] + 2 [dex])
hp: 24 ([10+2]x2)
Saves: Fort +5 (+3 base +2 con), Ref +3 (+1 base +2 dex), Will +0 (+1 base -1 wis)
Speed: 30ft
Melee attack: +8 MW Falchion (2d4+4 dmg, 18-20x2)
Ranged attack: +6 MW Comp (+3str) Longbow (1d8+3, 20x3)
Base Attack: +3; Grapple: +6
Special actions: Shift (su): free action. 1/day for 6 rnds. +2 con and +4 natural armor
Abilities:
STR: 16 (+3) : 16 (10pts)
DEX: 14 (+2) : 12 (4pts) +2 racial
CON: 14 (+2) : 14 (6pts)
INT: 12 (+1) : 14 (6pts) -2 racial
WIS: 8 (-1) : (0pts)
CHR: 10 (+0) : 12 (4pts) -2 racial
Feats:
Dodge(f), Mobility(f), Weapon Focus (Falchion), Beasthide Elite
Skills:
Perform (dance) (cha): +3 (6 cc ranks, +0 cha)
Tumble (dex): +5 (6 cc ranks, +2 dex)
Jump (str): +11 (6 ranks, +3 str, +2 racial)
Racial abilities:
Low-light vision
+2 racial bonus on Balance, Climb, and Jump
Equipment:
+1 chain shirt: 1100gp
MW Falchion 425gp
MW Comp Longbow (+3str) 750gp
Everburning Torch: 110gp
25 tindertwigs: 25gp
backback, bedroll, adventuring clothes, food, etc.: 75 gp
Climber's kit: 80gp
135gp walking-around cash
[/sblock]
Last edited:
How does this look so far? I wasn't sure what Dragon gods were out there, so I just kept things generic. If I made errors, please feel free to point them out, I am still new at this whole thing.
[sblock]
Appearance:
Syronus had a rather intimidating appearance, standing at a height well above many of the other humanoids, besides those of giant-ilk. His scales shone faintly during bright sunlight, with dull lines traced at strange angles across his body. Further study or questioning of the being would reveal that these were scars from various encounters with both beasts, beastmen and the 'civilized' races. His tail in particular was heavily scarred moreso than the rest of his body.
He moved effortlessly, despite being larger than the typical Lizardfolk, his muscles rippling visible beneath his scales, unobscured by manufactured armor. This 'savage' seemed to be bristling with weapons, with points of spear and bolt sticking about his frame at various angles. To complete the look, Syronus sported a pair of amber eyes, with slitted pupils, like other reptiles. All in all, Syronus could be a rather intimidating brute, if he felt the need.
Background:
Syronus hailed from a tribe of Lizardfolk living in the swamps to the south, having migrated to less frigid and hostile climes to people of his ilk after their release 500 years ago. Syronus tribe itself was not too far from a few human settlements, in a swamp many humans superstitiously believed was haunted. As a result, many a human would lash out and think later when stumbling across a large creature, frequently attacking the Lizardfolk of the area.
When his people retaliated in kind, the human would run away, screaming of monsters. Of course, after a few years the 'civilized' human populace formed into a mob and invaded the swamps, hunting down the monsters to 'save' their village once and for all. The result was a slaughter. The Lizardfolk were much more adjusted to the swamps, but the humans had much greater numbers. His people fought well, but eventually Scartail had no choice but to leave his homeland and free himself from the bloodstained swamp he once called home.
Syronus had made a vow to himself to become stronger so that if those he cared about were in danger again, he'd be able to tear the oppressor to pieces. Syronus prayed that night, to all of the dragon-gods that would hear him. He prayed that they would grace him with what he needed to emulate them. As Syronus traveled, more and more he realized that dragons were the prime example of the perfect being. No one went in mobs to kill a 'tribe' of dragons... that'd be insanity. Not only were they wiser than almost any other race, but they were just as cunning and magnificently powerful, both physically and in the arcane.
He traveled westward, aimlessly rather, until one day he was captured by a group of slavers. He'd been chained in his sleep. Syronus simply took the slavers by surprise, breaking his bonds and dispatching his captors, looting their corpses before moving on. All of this made him sick of 'civilized' folk, but he knew not where else to go.
Eventually, Syronus made his way to a village called Rawee, where his presence was at the very least tolerated, if not accepted. The Lizardman wanders the village aimlessly, seeking a path towards his lofty goal: Dragonhood.[/sblock]
[sblock]
Code:
[B]Name:[/B] Syronus Scartail
[B]Class:[/B] None yet
[B]Race:[/B] Lizardfolk
[B]Size:[/B] Medium
[B]Gender:[/B] Male
[B]Alignment:[/B] Neutral
[B]Deity:[/B] Undecided
[B]Str:[/B] 18 +4 (10p.) [B]Level:[/B] 3 [B]XP:[/B] ???
[B]Dex:[/B] 14 +2 (06p.) [B]BAB:[/B] +1 [B]HP:[/B] 22 (1d8+03)
[B]Con:[/B] 16 +3 (06p.) [B]Grapple:[/B] +5 [B]Dmg Red:[/B] XX/XXXX
[B]Int:[/B] 12 +1 (06p.) [B]Speed:[/B] 30' [B]Spell Res:[/B] XX
[B]Wis:[/B] 10 +0 (02p.) [B]Init:[/B] +6 [B]Spell Save:[/B] +X
[B]Cha:[/B] 08 -1 (00p.) [B]ACP:[/B] -0 [B]Spell Fail:[/B] 05%
[B]Base Armor Shld Dex Size Nat Misc Total[/B]
[B]Armor:[/B] 10 +0 +1 +2 +0 +5 +0 18
[B]Touch:[/B] 12 [B]Flatfooted:[/B] 16
[B]Base Mod Misc Total[/B]
[B]Fort:[/B] 0 +3 +3
[B]Ref:[/B] 3 +2 +5
[B]Will:[/B] 0 +0 +0
[B]Weapon Attack Damage Critical[/B]
Claw(x2) +4 1d4+4 20-20x2
Bite +4 1d4+4 20-20x2
Long Spear +4 1d8+6 20-20x3
MW Spear* +5 1d8+6 20-20x3
Shortspear(x5)** +4 1d6+4 20-20x2
Light Crossbow +2 1d8+0 19-20x2
MW Lgt Stl Sheild +4 1d3+4 20-20x2
*Spear ranged attack bonus is +3
**shortspear ranged attack bonus is +2
[B]Languages:[/B] Common, Draconic, Orc
[B]Abilities:[/B] Hold Breath (Syronus can hold his breath for a number of rounds equal to four times its Constitution score before he risks drowning)
[B]Feats:[/B] Improved Initiative
[B]Skill Points:[/B] 15 [B]Max Ranks:[/B] 5/2.5
[B]Skills Ranks Mod Misc Total[/B]
Balance 5 +2 +4 =11
Jump 5 +4 +4 =13
Swim 5 +4 +4 =13
*All other skills are untrained
[B]Equipment: Cost Weight[/B]
Masterwork spear 302gp 06 lb
Longspear 05gp 09 lb
Shortspear(x5) 05gp 05 lb
Light Crossbow 35gp 04 lb
Bolts(x50) 05gp 05 lb
lgt stl MW shield 309gp 06 lb
Trail Rations(x5) 25sp 05 lb
Backpack 02gp 02 lb
Waterskin(x10) 10gp 40 lb
[B]Total Weight:[/B]82lb [B]Money:[/B] 2026gp 75sp XXcp
[B]Light Medium Heavy Lift Push[/B]
[B]Max Weight:[/B] >100 lbs 101-200 201-300 300 301-600
[B]Age:[/B] 25
[B]Height:[/B] 7'04"
[B]Weight:[/B] 260 lb
[B]Eyes:[/B] Amber
[B]Hair:[/B] N/A
[B]Skin:[/B] Dark greenSyronus had a rather intimidating appearance, standing at a height well above many of the other humanoids, besides those of giant-ilk. His scales shone faintly during bright sunlight, with dull lines traced at strange angles across his body. Further study or questioning of the being would reveal that these were scars from various encounters with both beasts, beastmen and the 'civilized' races. His tail in particular was heavily scarred moreso than the rest of his body.
He moved effortlessly, despite being larger than the typical Lizardfolk, his muscles rippling visible beneath his scales, unobscured by manufactured armor. This 'savage' seemed to be bristling with weapons, with points of spear and bolt sticking about his frame at various angles. To complete the look, Syronus sported a pair of amber eyes, with slitted pupils, like other reptiles. All in all, Syronus could be a rather intimidating brute, if he felt the need.
Background:
Syronus hailed from a tribe of Lizardfolk living in the swamps to the south, having migrated to less frigid and hostile climes to people of his ilk after their release 500 years ago. Syronus tribe itself was not too far from a few human settlements, in a swamp many humans superstitiously believed was haunted. As a result, many a human would lash out and think later when stumbling across a large creature, frequently attacking the Lizardfolk of the area.
When his people retaliated in kind, the human would run away, screaming of monsters. Of course, after a few years the 'civilized' human populace formed into a mob and invaded the swamps, hunting down the monsters to 'save' their village once and for all. The result was a slaughter. The Lizardfolk were much more adjusted to the swamps, but the humans had much greater numbers. His people fought well, but eventually Scartail had no choice but to leave his homeland and free himself from the bloodstained swamp he once called home.
Syronus had made a vow to himself to become stronger so that if those he cared about were in danger again, he'd be able to tear the oppressor to pieces. Syronus prayed that night, to all of the dragon-gods that would hear him. He prayed that they would grace him with what he needed to emulate them. As Syronus traveled, more and more he realized that dragons were the prime example of the perfect being. No one went in mobs to kill a 'tribe' of dragons... that'd be insanity. Not only were they wiser than almost any other race, but they were just as cunning and magnificently powerful, both physically and in the arcane.
He traveled westward, aimlessly rather, until one day he was captured by a group of slavers. He'd been chained in his sleep. Syronus simply took the slavers by surprise, breaking his bonds and dispatching his captors, looting their corpses before moving on. All of this made him sick of 'civilized' folk, but he knew not where else to go.
Eventually, Syronus made his way to a village called Rawee, where his presence was at the very least tolerated, if not accepted. The Lizardman wanders the village aimlessly, seeking a path towards his lofty goal: Dragonhood.[/sblock]
@ pneumatik and theroc
Saw your character sheets, they look good, will comb through them later tonight for any possible errors. Enjoyed the backstories as well. Thanks for updating them early (dont wanna do a 'crunch' on may 1st to get them all corrected)
@bedford
At this time, we are in dire need of a healer of some sort. No character that I have seen so far can can cast spells, let alone heal in any way short of potions.
As Im really striving to challenge the players in both rollplaying and combat, a healer is something we desperately need.
Not saying that the last person needs to specialize 100% in healing only, but out of the three you posted, your barb/cleric would be the most suited for the current party.
Let me see a more fleshed out character concept and I can mark you down as taking the final spot.
Additional Note to players:
So far party mechanics can be summed up in two words... Warrior Smash!
This ought to be fun
Saw your character sheets, they look good, will comb through them later tonight for any possible errors. Enjoyed the backstories as well. Thanks for updating them early (dont wanna do a 'crunch' on may 1st to get them all corrected)
@bedford
At this time, we are in dire need of a healer of some sort. No character that I have seen so far can can cast spells, let alone heal in any way short of potions.
As Im really striving to challenge the players in both rollplaying and combat, a healer is something we desperately need.
Not saying that the last person needs to specialize 100% in healing only, but out of the three you posted, your barb/cleric would be the most suited for the current party.
Let me see a more fleshed out character concept and I can mark you down as taking the final spot.
Additional Note to players:
So far party mechanics can be summed up in two words... Warrior Smash!
This ought to be fun
Arkhandus
First Post
Not strictly true......my Dragon Shaman's aura of Vigor will give everyone Fast Healing when they're down to half HP or less. It just won't heal them to more than half HP +1. I just won't have any instant-healing until 7th-level (aside from my couple of purchased potions).
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