Herobizkit
Adventurer
Trust me, it took me 3 hours just to get the stat block looking presentable. You don't like stat-block PC's? 
[pfrpg]
- Thread starter fireinthedust
- Start date
grufflehead
First Post
The character I have in mind is a female dwarf, so 'no' if you let me in...
As far as role goes, she's a melee fighter, but one who is quite different to Sir Angus so I don't see much, if any, toe stepping between them. She was very much written to be part of an adventuring company so skill-wise her focus is on logistical and other support activities for the group - she is very competent at woodcraft, foraging and wilderness lore (ie Survival), is a good teamstress (Handle Animal and a little Profession), and coping with the bumps and sprains of travelling (Heal) amongst other things.
Posting wise, I am in the fortunate position of being able to check here all day so other than being on holiday then I am on pretty much every day. From our one brief time together I can say that both GlassEye and I like to be descriptive and informative in our posts - I have been in a lot of games where too many of the players think a 1 liner is perfectly adequate by way of response. I'm more inclined to think if you only care enough about the game that 1 line is all you can be bothered to contribute, then maybe it isn't the game for you...
I'm at work, and my PC notes are at home so I'll post up a background later for you to look at, and then stats once I get a chance.
One thing I'd like to request from another of the players: I need a hook to be part of the group (I have one in mind). It requires 1 of you to set aside either one of your language slots or a skill rank, and be part of my backstory. If this is a long-established adventuring company then the direct link to another PC isn't so vital as it can be done second hand BUT I still need at least 1 person to burn a skill rank or a language slot - once you see the background you'll know why!
GlassEye
Adventurer
One thing I'd like to request from another of the players: I need a hook to be part of the group (I have one in mind). It requires 1 of you to set aside either one of your language slots or a skill rank, and be part of my backstory. If this is a long-established adventuring company then the direct link to another PC isn't so vital as it can be done second hand BUT I still need at least 1 person to burn a skill rank or a language slot - once you see the background you'll know why!
I'll do it as long as it doesn't conflict with my background. I could easily exchange Giant for whatever it is that you need. The eidolon isn't actually a troll after all and Sindri isn't likely to have picked it up in that case.
GlassEye
Adventurer
Updated Sindri. Added description, personality paragraph, revised history, finished mechanics. Haven't spent much gold and still need a description for Half-Jack. Still thinking about Sindri's spell list; some overlap with Ragnar's so I'm thinking I might want to make some revisions to it. Wish the Transmogrify spell was available. Aside from the two things above I think he's finished and playable.
SelcSilverhand
First Post
Okay, but if we see a baby unicorn I'm going to cook it and eat it! Uni annoyed the hell out of me =P
The character I have in mind is a female dwarf, so 'no' if you let me in...
One thing I'd like to request from another of the players: I need a hook to be part of the group (I have one in mind). It requires 1 of you to set aside either one of your language slots or a skill rank, and be part of my backstory. If this is a long-established adventuring company then the direct link to another PC isn't so vital as it can be done second hand BUT I still need at least 1 person to burn a skill rank or a language slot - once you see the background you'll know why!
As part of my backstory my character stopped in Janderhoff for a year, the dwarven city of Varisia, and I spent a point for Dwarven to go with it if that helps any.
grufflehead
First Post
Heh, not exactly...
OK, rather than keep anyone else in suspense about my cryptic hinting, Renya is mute. Not as in born-like-that, rather as in <snip R-rated abuse> and having her tongue cut/torn out by some rather unpleasant fellows who sacked the monastery she was resident in. So communication is now via sign language; as long as one of you can 'translate' that's fine, but if some of us have been together for a while then the more the merrier.
rangerjohn
Explorer
Ragnor has learned the skill, makes sense he is the scholar of the group and it is his wagon you would be driving.
fireinthedust
Explorer
Grufflehead: heh. Just thinking whether this would be possible to RP in PBP... and then thinking fun things to do with this. hee hee hee (disappears behind GM screen, beyond which you can hear the sounds of maniacal chuckling and a lot of erasing followed by vicious scribbles cutting into the pages).
If anyone can think of any reason why this crowned prince of the realm, and this brain-sucking tentacle-monster, should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace... anyone? anyone? Bueller?
Traits: Let's start with what we have. I'm new to this, and I'm not looking to make things more complicated. I want, for example, to know whether or not you folks will incinerate a BBEG in one shot before I throw over bonus stuff.
If anyone can think of any reason why this crowned prince of the realm, and this brain-sucking tentacle-monster, should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace... anyone? anyone? Bueller?
Traits: Let's start with what we have. I'm new to this, and I'm not looking to make things more complicated. I want, for example, to know whether or not you folks will incinerate a BBEG in one shot before I throw over bonus stuff.
GandalfMithrandir
First Post
Alright!
Concerning my Ability to post: I am a high schooler, so until June 5 I won't be able to get on a lot during the day, my lunch period is from 11:00 to 11:30 so I can post then and then on weekdays I can get on after 3:30 most days, no internet on saturdays, well, dial up, but that doesn't count at 15 mghz/minute and non-reliability, on sundays I can post after 3:00 to 5:00
And here's my character, I'll get my extra stuff (Death Attack, other rogue abilities) in tomorrow:
[sblock=Un-named Assassin]
Rogue 5/Assassin 1
HP: 39
AC: 16/17 (Dodge) (10+ 4 Dexterity+ 2 Leather +1 Dodge)
STR: 16
DEX: 19
CON: 13
INT: 16
WIS: 11
CHA: 13
Attacks:
Composite Shortbow: +8 (1d6+3)
2 Daggers: +4/+4 (1d4+3/1d4+1)
Dagger (Thrown): +8 (1d4+3)
Longsword: +2 (1d8+3)
Sneak Attack +4d6 when flanked or otherwise flat-footed
Skills: Acrobatics +14 (6 ranks), Appraise +12 (6 ranks), Bluff +10 (6), Climb +12 (6), Disable Device +14 (6), Disguise +10 (6), Intimidate +10 (6), Perception +10 (6), Stealth +14 (6), Diplomacy +11 (4)
Feats: Two-Weapon Fighting, Point Blank Shot, Skill Focus (Diplomacy), Dodge
Rogue Talents: Fast Stealth, Rogue Crawl
[/sblock]
Concerning my Ability to post: I am a high schooler, so until June 5 I won't be able to get on a lot during the day, my lunch period is from 11:00 to 11:30 so I can post then and then on weekdays I can get on after 3:30 most days, no internet on saturdays, well, dial up, but that doesn't count at 15 mghz/minute and non-reliability, on sundays I can post after 3:00 to 5:00
And here's my character, I'll get my extra stuff (Death Attack, other rogue abilities) in tomorrow:
[sblock=Un-named Assassin]
Rogue 5/Assassin 1
HP: 39
AC: 16/17 (Dodge) (10+ 4 Dexterity+ 2 Leather +1 Dodge)
STR: 16
DEX: 19
CON: 13
INT: 16
WIS: 11
CHA: 13
Attacks:
Composite Shortbow: +8 (1d6+3)
2 Daggers: +4/+4 (1d4+3/1d4+1)
Dagger (Thrown): +8 (1d4+3)
Longsword: +2 (1d8+3)
Sneak Attack +4d6 when flanked or otherwise flat-footed
Skills: Acrobatics +14 (6 ranks), Appraise +12 (6 ranks), Bluff +10 (6), Climb +12 (6), Disable Device +14 (6), Disguise +10 (6), Intimidate +10 (6), Perception +10 (6), Stealth +14 (6), Diplomacy +11 (4)
Feats: Two-Weapon Fighting, Point Blank Shot, Skill Focus (Diplomacy), Dodge
Rogue Talents: Fast Stealth, Rogue Crawl
[/sblock]
grufflehead
First Post
OK, I thought I'd try something a little different for my backstory. Apologies to Herobizkit for not managing to fit in a reference to his character. Hope you enjoy it (stats to follow if you approve...)
The young man sat nursing his drink, watching two drops of condensation form into one, then begin to trickle slowly down the outside of his glass. 'At least the beer hasn't turned on me' he thought morosely. What a week: his boss at the garage had told him that due to the downturn they would have to let him go, when he'd told his girlfriend they'd had a blazing row which had ended up in her storming off to her mother's, and when he got back to the little apartment he had been renting while the pair of them saved for a place of their own, he found it had been broken into, and his guitar and most of his CDs had been taken. And then it started to rain...
What had possessed him to go to the track he couldn't decide, but after betting on 4 dogs, hot dogs would have run faster, even in their buns, he had made a wet withdrawal to O'Malley's and taken out his last 20 bucks to buy the beer, and put 'Highway to Hell' on the jukebox.
He noticed the woman slip into the seat next to him. Old dear, sold the Racing Post down at the corner of 3rd and Missouri. Never spoken to her, but from the way she was looking at her drink, she'd had the same sort of day. The young man raised his glass in salute, and got one in return.
'Rough day, dearie?' said the newcomer; more a statement than a question. 'Well, it'll break soon' she said, returning to her drink.
'Can't get much worse' the young man said, a trace of resignation in his voice, 'but who knows how else Lady Luck plans to screw with me'. At that, the old woman looked at him – right at him – and said 'Lady Luck don't work like that kid, there's method in her madness'. Seeing the enquiring look she got, she continued 'let me tell you a story, a little morality tale you might say'. She signalled to the bored looking barman for two more then turned so the young man could now see her face fully. She smiled, revealing yellow teeth.
'Way back in history, the world was different to now. There was things that don't walk the earth no more – elves and dwarves and other things like that'.
'WHAT?' exclaimed the young man 'you're trying to cheer me up with some Harry Potter sh*t? Get lost....'
'Woah, kid, hear me out' said the other, 'it's just an example that's all. Anyways, there was this young girl, a dwarf actually, name was something like Rana or Renee, no Renya, that's it, Renya. You think you got it bad? Wait til you hear the stuff that happened to her. Her mother died giving birth to her. Her father? He didn't last much longer before some illness or other got to him, so she ended up in some monastery getting looked after by monks. You know, like St Pat's over on Chicago. Well, she was happy there, settled down, got an education, learned a few things, cos she was bright kid. So just when she thought Fate had forgotten about her, along come these raiders, real bad dudes. Well, they up and kill everyone they can find, but the women, well', the woman lowered her voice in case anyone else should overhear the sordid details, 'the women they raped, and then cut out their tongues so they couldn't tell anyone about it'.
The graphic account brought a grimace to the young man's face. 'Jesus' he muttered.
'You'd think after all that, you might just give up, but not this girl, no sir. A couple of guys found her in the burnt out ruins, and brought her round. They offered to take her back to town with them, so she went. And on the way, she saved their bacon when the bridge they were crossing gave way under them – jumped in the river and pulled the pair of them out, and gave one of them the kiss of life as well. I guess they reckoned she'd just leave once they got to town, but when they hit the road, there she was tagging along behind. After a while they even managed to figure out some sign language so they could talk to each other too. She was certainly a fighter, Renya, in more ways than one'.
'Well, they hung about together for a while before they met up with a bunch of other guys, like Sir Angus – I could tell you a story or two about him – and ended up escorting some scholar out into the wilds to find something. Want to know a funny bit? One of the other guys, his family were killed by the same raiders as attacked the monastery. Ever heard the phrase 'don't get mad, get even? Well, boy did he ever get even!'
'Anyway, the story with the scholar went a bit like this.....'.
The young man sat nursing his drink, watching two drops of condensation form into one, then begin to trickle slowly down the outside of his glass. 'You don't really believe that cr*p do you?' he asked the speaker.
The old woman drained her own glass, slid off the bar stool, thought for a moment, then said 'Nah, just made it up. You looked like you needed something to take your mind off whatever's eating you. But the point about not giving up, working hard, and getting your reward in the end? Well, maybe there's a bit of truth in that. So long, kid and keep your chin up. Maybe next time you run into Lady Luck things won't be quite so bad'. And with that, she pulled on her overcoat and made her way out into the rain, leaving the young man to think. Perhaps tomorrow he'd look for another job after all. With a smile, he thought 'yeah, it could be worse'.
The old woman drew the coat tightly round her and scuttled through the alley to the place she called home. Forcing open the rusted piece of corrugated steel that covered the entrance to the abandoned warehouse where she lived, she saw the black cat inside, waiting for her. Shaking the rain from her lank hair, the old woman went over to the cat, knees creaking as she bent down to pet it. It hugged her legs, purring until she picked it up. For a moment, the pair looked into each other's yellow eyes, before the old woman said 'time to get you some food' and carried the cat over to a stack of crates from which she produced several cans of food in various flavours.
'Busy night?' enquired the cat. 'Oh, tuna tonight, please'.
'Not really' the old woman replied, using one massive claw to tear open the can and scoop the contents into a bowl. 'But I did get a chance to tell an old story...'
The young man sat nursing his drink, watching two drops of condensation form into one, then begin to trickle slowly down the outside of his glass. 'At least the beer hasn't turned on me' he thought morosely. What a week: his boss at the garage had told him that due to the downturn they would have to let him go, when he'd told his girlfriend they'd had a blazing row which had ended up in her storming off to her mother's, and when he got back to the little apartment he had been renting while the pair of them saved for a place of their own, he found it had been broken into, and his guitar and most of his CDs had been taken. And then it started to rain...
What had possessed him to go to the track he couldn't decide, but after betting on 4 dogs, hot dogs would have run faster, even in their buns, he had made a wet withdrawal to O'Malley's and taken out his last 20 bucks to buy the beer, and put 'Highway to Hell' on the jukebox.
He noticed the woman slip into the seat next to him. Old dear, sold the Racing Post down at the corner of 3rd and Missouri. Never spoken to her, but from the way she was looking at her drink, she'd had the same sort of day. The young man raised his glass in salute, and got one in return.
'Rough day, dearie?' said the newcomer; more a statement than a question. 'Well, it'll break soon' she said, returning to her drink.
'Can't get much worse' the young man said, a trace of resignation in his voice, 'but who knows how else Lady Luck plans to screw with me'. At that, the old woman looked at him – right at him – and said 'Lady Luck don't work like that kid, there's method in her madness'. Seeing the enquiring look she got, she continued 'let me tell you a story, a little morality tale you might say'. She signalled to the bored looking barman for two more then turned so the young man could now see her face fully. She smiled, revealing yellow teeth.
'Way back in history, the world was different to now. There was things that don't walk the earth no more – elves and dwarves and other things like that'.
'WHAT?' exclaimed the young man 'you're trying to cheer me up with some Harry Potter sh*t? Get lost....'
'Woah, kid, hear me out' said the other, 'it's just an example that's all. Anyways, there was this young girl, a dwarf actually, name was something like Rana or Renee, no Renya, that's it, Renya. You think you got it bad? Wait til you hear the stuff that happened to her. Her mother died giving birth to her. Her father? He didn't last much longer before some illness or other got to him, so she ended up in some monastery getting looked after by monks. You know, like St Pat's over on Chicago. Well, she was happy there, settled down, got an education, learned a few things, cos she was bright kid. So just when she thought Fate had forgotten about her, along come these raiders, real bad dudes. Well, they up and kill everyone they can find, but the women, well', the woman lowered her voice in case anyone else should overhear the sordid details, 'the women they raped, and then cut out their tongues so they couldn't tell anyone about it'.
The graphic account brought a grimace to the young man's face. 'Jesus' he muttered.
'You'd think after all that, you might just give up, but not this girl, no sir. A couple of guys found her in the burnt out ruins, and brought her round. They offered to take her back to town with them, so she went. And on the way, she saved their bacon when the bridge they were crossing gave way under them – jumped in the river and pulled the pair of them out, and gave one of them the kiss of life as well. I guess they reckoned she'd just leave once they got to town, but when they hit the road, there she was tagging along behind. After a while they even managed to figure out some sign language so they could talk to each other too. She was certainly a fighter, Renya, in more ways than one'.
'Well, they hung about together for a while before they met up with a bunch of other guys, like Sir Angus – I could tell you a story or two about him – and ended up escorting some scholar out into the wilds to find something. Want to know a funny bit? One of the other guys, his family were killed by the same raiders as attacked the monastery. Ever heard the phrase 'don't get mad, get even? Well, boy did he ever get even!'
'Anyway, the story with the scholar went a bit like this.....'.
The young man sat nursing his drink, watching two drops of condensation form into one, then begin to trickle slowly down the outside of his glass. 'You don't really believe that cr*p do you?' he asked the speaker.
The old woman drained her own glass, slid off the bar stool, thought for a moment, then said 'Nah, just made it up. You looked like you needed something to take your mind off whatever's eating you. But the point about not giving up, working hard, and getting your reward in the end? Well, maybe there's a bit of truth in that. So long, kid and keep your chin up. Maybe next time you run into Lady Luck things won't be quite so bad'. And with that, she pulled on her overcoat and made her way out into the rain, leaving the young man to think. Perhaps tomorrow he'd look for another job after all. With a smile, he thought 'yeah, it could be worse'.
The old woman drew the coat tightly round her and scuttled through the alley to the place she called home. Forcing open the rusted piece of corrugated steel that covered the entrance to the abandoned warehouse where she lived, she saw the black cat inside, waiting for her. Shaking the rain from her lank hair, the old woman went over to the cat, knees creaking as she bent down to pet it. It hugged her legs, purring until she picked it up. For a moment, the pair looked into each other's yellow eyes, before the old woman said 'time to get you some food' and carried the cat over to a stack of crates from which she produced several cans of food in various flavours.
'Busy night?' enquired the cat. 'Oh, tuna tonight, please'.
'Not really' the old woman replied, using one massive claw to tear open the can and scoop the contents into a bowl. 'But I did get a chance to tell an old story...'
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