Exclusive Contest! WAYNE REYNOLDS draws OR PAINTS your character! No more entries!

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

Wikanby is a smallish kobold, and not held in particularly high esteem by his tribe.

Wikanby has committed two sins with the Tumble Down Kobolds: First, he's a dragon-worshipper, a devotee of Io, and he wears a multicolored metal disc around his neck as a holy symbol. Secondly, Wikanby is a wizard.

His scholarly nature led him to recover spellbooks from captured prisoners and to force a captured wizard to teach him the basics, but when his tribe decided he was obviously some sort of revolutionary, he had to flee with his life, dodging dire weasels and kobold rangers stalking him.

Eventually, with a lot of luck and some fast-talking, he found himself adopted as the mascot for a group of adventurers, and learned enough Common, and earned enough gold, to be able to enroll himself in a wizard's college. Partially the wizards wanted to see if he could succeed, and partially they brought him in for his perceived entertainment value. He surprised everyone by succeeding wonderfully.

Curious about the world, and convinced that the true path to draconic transcendence lies in studying dragons and learning more magic than any of his tribe has ever imagined, Wikanby isn't so much evil as he is amoral. He does have a bad habit of hungering for human babies, a delicacy only the chief and his harem enjoyed, and only that on special occasions. As of yet, Wikanby has never been able to purchase a human baby for the purposes of eating it, partially because he knows what would happen to him if word got around that he was in the market. Still, he's very curious, because it was the tribal delicacy since he was a hatchling.

Wikanby normally wears a short black hooded cloak that just covers the tip of his tail, with the left breast emblazoned with his college's crest, a golden ram's head on a red shield. He wears small reading glasses (a magic item that lets him read magic and comprehend written languages at will) perched on the end of his snout, which are attached to a chain around his neck. He carries a cold iron gnomebane short sword at his waist, but normally carries a wooden club carved with dragons as a walking stick. His clothes are modest but normal for an adventurer of middle levels, although he goes barefoot. He is fond of jewelry, and wears impressive rings and gold toe rings. His weasel familiar, Serpent, normally peeps out of Wikanby's hood.

Although he's a scholar, dragon's blood still sings in his veins, and when in doubt, Wikanby deals with any problem with fire, lightning or acid. He favors destructive, dramatic spells, and he fights dirty. A dead opponent can't hurt him, no matter how much bigger than him they might have been.

The following spell is typical of Wikanby's magics, in more than one way:

Wikanby's Dragon Bolt
Evocation [Acid, Cold, Electricity, Fire]
Level: Sor/Wiz 1
Components: V, S, F
Casting Time: 1 Standard Action
Range: Medium (100 ft. + 10 ft./level)
Targets: Up to five creatures, no two of which can be more than 15 yards apart
Duration: Instantaneous
Saving Throw: None
Spell Resistance: Yes

A bolt of magical energy is spit from the caster's mouth, and strikes its target, dealing 1d4+1 points of a energy damage.

The bolt is shaped like a miniature chromatic dragon of a random type, and the type determines the form of energy damage inflicted. The bolt strikes unerringly, even if the target is in melee combat or has less than total cover or total concealment. Specific parts of a creature cannot be singled out. Inanimate objects are not damaged by the spell.

The type of dragon bolt fired is determined randomly for each bolt released:

D4 Color Energy
1 Black Acid
2 White Cold
3 Blue Electricity
4 Red Fire

For every two caster levels beyond 1st, you gain an additional bolt -- two at 3rd level, three at 4th, four at 7th, and the maximum of five bolts at 9th level or higher. The color and type of each bolt is randomly determined. If you shoot multiple bolts, you can have them strike a single creature or several creatures. A single bolt can strike only one creature. You must designate targets before you determine the type of bolt, check for spell resistance or roll damage.

Focus: A small statuette of a chromatic dragon (any type).

 

[Kai Lord]

Just three more days of eligible entries....Krail and I will be going through and picking our favorites to have ready to be announced next week. My first post on Monday the 31st will be the cut off point so post 'em if you got 'em.

Getting close....

 

[Raloc]

Just three more days of eligible entries....Krail and I will be going through and picking our favorites to have ready to be announced next week. My first post on Monday the 31st will be the cut off point so post 'em if you got 'em.

Getting close....

Wow, great contest. I'm glad I found this slightly before the deadline!

Here goes.

Raloc Ambrenor, Human Fighter

Description
Raloc is a tall (6'1") human male, with heavily toned but lean muscles (180lbs.). He wears his dark brown hair short cropped, and his eyes are emerald green. He wears a suit of full plate armor and carries a flaming greatsword. He holds his helm at his side when not in battle.

Background
Raloc's earliest memory of his parents are of their trip to Waterdeep from the country side. At the time, he did not know where they were going or why, though later he came to understand the grim truth. He remembers wondering why his parents faces were blank and set, and why they avoided looking at him or saying his name. They arrived in Waterdeep, the greatest city Raloc had ever seen. His parents guided their wagon down through the various districts, and the buildings become poorer and poorer. He was frightened, he remembers. His father met with some men clothed in black that carried blades. They taunted and pushed his father around, mocking him. The men exchanged gold coins with is father, and then cursed him and sent him away. They took Raloc, now crying, away from the wagon, and his parents would not look at him.

Raloc grew strong from the hard labor he was put to. His masters thought him broken of spirit, but he deceived them. He secreted his dignity away, and was wary. Eventually the time came where his masters underestimated him. Calmly going through the motions of the labor he endured, Raloc struck unexpectedly and swiftly, knocking out his captor. In a single swift motion he unsheathed the man's dagger and slit his throat. His careful deceit had payed with his freedom. Without ties to land or lord, Raloc went back to the only place he fully remembered: Waterdeep.

He was formidable among the toughs and bouncers of the street. Though still young, he played their game better than most, and he managed to earn enough coin to feed and shelter himself. Although ruthless, he did not step outside the law, and eventually he came to work with the city guard. He trained in those weapons common to the guard, and after much forswearing of ale, he bought himself a greatsword. He trained when we was not on duty, and he vowed to become a great warrior, unmatched in single combat. He rose to the rank of corporal in the guard and eventually joined an elite branch of the army. He was slower going in the ranks there, though he saw his share of bloodshed. He found Kelemvor as his patron while in the army, deciding that he would have his soul guided should he die in battle. He eventually gained the rank of corporal in the army, though men less skilled than he were promoted to sergeant. The slight was not unnoticed, and Raloc decided to strike out on his own.

He was mercenry, traveling with caravans and bands of sellswords, and was eventually given a proposition. Sitting at a small inn, eating his dinner, a dark robed man had taken a chair beside him. He kept his back to the wall and eyed the rest of the patrons appraisingly. He spoke to Raloc of forming a raiding party, bound for Myth Drannor. Raloc knew little of the place, and rashly decided to accept. The rewards were high, so the man said. Something about this hooded figure struck him oddly, but he thought nothing of it at the time.

Bound for Myth Drannor, Raloc's band was set upon by a drow raiding party. The band took heavy casualties, and was spared only by the help of a wandering druid. Raloc swore vengeance on the robed man, and decided to travel with the druid to Sembia, where he intended to meet some companions of his.

Raloc's next months were spent in dull Sembia, involved in the political intrigues that his newly found companions were embroiled in. He learned that while he was away from his home city, a war had started in the North. A mad black dragon was marching an army against the outlying properties of Waterdeep. His companions had championed the campaign that now saw a Helmite army besieging their enemy's towers. They were given word from another companion with the Helmites that their supply lines had been cut, and the army was going to starve without aid.

The party teleported North to Waterdeep, and prepared to depart with supplies for the entrenched army. During the night before their departure, Raloc had a visitor. He came calling with lock pick and awoke Raloc from his slumber. The intruder held him by magical means, and told him he would betray his companions. That is when Raloc noticed, this was the man that had sent him to his death in Myth Drannor. Raloc struggled like a mad bull, managing only to inch closer to the mage. The mage told of how he would raise Raloc's slain companions and use them as his pawns, with the blessing of Velsharoon. The necromancer cast further spells and then departed. The companions later found Raloc was under the influence of a compulsion.

Personality
Raloc holds his own values and makes no apologies about them. He is quiet unless it suits him to speak, and when he does so, he does so boldly. He holds a high standard of honor, and those who cross him or his companions will meet the end of his blade. When action is called for, he is not hesitant to put forth what is needed.

Action Scene
Small hills surround a pass further into the mountains. Forty wagons are arrayed in a circle, and a wizard in black robes holds a great semi-circle wall of flame at the rear flank of the encampment. A sea of orcs swarms around the encampment, many falling into spike pits or dying to the flames of tar pits, while great balls of fire roll from the hills in to the orcish ranks. Slightly North-East of the wagons a circle of orcs ring around a much larger orc adorned with tattoos and symbols that show his rank among the lesser orcs. He wields a greateaxe and many humans lay slain before him. A large human fighter wields a flaming greatsword, and the orcs scream for his blood to be spilled. The battle rages around its leaders. The orc general moves to attack the human, Raloc. He fails to budge the great fighter, and Raloc cries out for all the surrounding orcs to hear, "And now you die by my blade!" He sweeps the orc's feet from under him, and plunges his flaming sword through the orc's chest into the frozen ground, blood spraying his armor. Ripping the sword from the orc's chest, he hacks the general's head off, and holds it high above him. He bellows to the remaining orcs that their fate is sealed, and visciously lays into the remaining orcs. The orcish ranks break and their army is routed. The black robed wizard moves the great wall in front of the fleeing orcs, and all are slain.

 

[MrFilthyIke]

Ta'Vanka

Ta’Vanka – Battle Maiden of Nol Dappa

Female Dwarf, 4’9” tall, 160 lbs. Compact and sturdy as members of her race are in general. Her skin has a reddish cast, hair is black and her eyes have golden irises.

The armor she wears is masterwork full plate armor engraved and chased with a flame motif, and has flame shaped additions in the form of raised barbs and spikes. The back plate has a raised collar and her winged great helm is designed to fit within the rim of the collar.

While she does carry two throwing axes there is only one true weapon that she carries and is never parted from it. A masterwork double headed great axe, echoing the flame motif, crafted as a gift for her, enchanted and soul-bound to her alone. She has named the axe “Elabac’s Lesson” in honor of the master artisan who created it, and as a reminder of the lesson learned in questing for his safe return.

She wears a collar of Otyugh teeth, strung several rows deep, a trophy of striking down in one blow a beast that had already injured several party members. She also has strung at her waist two shrunken heads of foes she had slain in pursuit of striking down the evil conquerors of another dwarven enclave.

Ta’Vanka is of the Nol Dappan enclave of dwarves, residing and working within a semi-active volcano which gives the people and their artifacts a reddish sheen. She worships the god Nier – god of destruction, war, flames and purification. He is also the judge of all souls of the dead. Cast out by her master artisan family for choosing the warrior’s path she is considered an orphan with no familial ties. The first female warrior in the enclave for many generations she has dedicated herself to either becoming the perfect warrior, or achieving the perfect death in service to the greater good or defense of the weak.

Single minded, silent and completely focused in battle, she is often a fearsome sight, covered in blood and gore while leaving a trail of destruction behind her. She is the first to step forward to save a friend or party member and gives selflessly of any resources she has. Over years of adventuring she has one friend that she travels with, a human male of Kio descent, that she trusts implicitly; she considers him a more familial bond than her own family. She also travels with an awakened animal, a rat named Skizz that is scholarly and also a linguist. The rat usually travels nestled within the collar of the back plate and oft times accompanies her into battle.

Rarely seen without her armor, her hair is generally gathered back into a tight lacing at the nape of her neck for ease of wearing her helm and is then allowed to lie around the neck and down the front of her armor to her waist. In the warrior tradition the first 8 inches from the lacing is intricately braided and intertwined with metal rings and trinkets with the remainder of the length left loose. This enables the warrior, when entering battle, to twine the hair length around the front of the neck with the braiding and metal providing additional neck protection.

---------------------------------

Our party was charged with going into Ventaka, the city of the dead, to rescue a hostage taken there to be held indefinitely. The only way in was through a portal in a ruined and corrupted temple, an arch of stones on an otherwise blank wall. When the correct sequence of stones was activated the arch glowed and the portal sprang into being. A limpid pool of water, vertical along the wall surface, it was lit from within by an eerie blue fey light.

Unfortunately that summoned the portals guardians, the Reavers! Once they worshipped Nier but became zealots and they chose to be bolted into their armor or have it fused to their skin. The party was surrounded by seven dwarven Reavers and the portal was not yet fixed to allow passage. I stepped forward between the party and the Reavers, bringing my axe forward to hold the haft across my body.

The leader of the Reavers spoke, “Come sister, join us in worship of Nier”

I responded with a somber “I see no brothers, only souls to be judged by Nier” raising my voice so that the party behind me could hear “hold the line and fix that portal so we can come back”. I heard two party members move in behind me as the portal incantation restarted. I rose up on the balls of my feet, hefted my axe and charged the knot of Reavers on the other side of the portal chamber.

It became a ballet of steel, anticipating the next blow, parrying, swinging my axe and watching the Reavers eyes. I landed the first blow and severed an arm at the shoulder. The leader exhorted the rest to charge me and they hesitated. In that moment I stepped forward and swung with all my might, taking off a head and cleaving open the breastplate of a third Reaver. One of them brought their axe down upon my shoulder, unable to bring my own axe up to parry effectively I leaned forward and my shoulder guard and spike made it a glancing but jarring blow. The moment, though costly for now I had limited feeling in my right arm, allowed me to respond with full upward force and take my opponent out at the knees. He lay screeching on the floor as his stumps sprayed blood over my armor.

I looked to the Reaver’s leader and growled, “It seems that Nier has chosen”. Panting with exertion I again brought the battle to them. The two Reaver servitors stood a pace apart and started to attack in unison. I paused and gauged the distance and pacing of their swings then leapt in to the air to swing down at the one on the right, while continuing the blow to parry the attack of the servitor on the left.

That moment seemed to be frozen in time, as I felt myself floating and my arms moving as though through mud. One part of me worried that I was moving too slow while the trained and battle seasoned warrior in me knew that this was one of those blessed, rare moments where it is THE perfect blend of skill and timing. The servitor to the right saw the blow coming, his pupils widened so that his eyes were black holes into his soul, and it was as if he welcomed the end to this world for he smiled serenely and nodded.

I cleaved through his neck and chest, the force of my blow carrying the axe foreword to sever the remaining servitor’s gauntleted hands and splintering the haft of his axe. My battle leap had landed my squarely in front of the leader but with my axe at its fullest extension behind me. I was vulnerable and he knew it, but did not push his advantage. The leader scowled and took a step back, nodded once to me and simply said “For Nier”.

I stood upright and accepted his challenge, echoing his words. Armor clanged with glancing blows and axes whistled with the speed of combat, caught in a deadly dance it seemed that neither of us would win. I focused myself in to one massive attack that would leave me open to a killing blow if it did not at least connect. I stepped in and swung down at his hip, and felt my axe separate the armor and bite into flesh and bone.

He collapsed, maimed, his life ebbing out in a pool of red gore. As he lay gasping I knelt at his head and whispered “May you find Nier’s mercy”. As he died, I stood and faced the horrified faces of my party members and as I strode towards them, all but my Kio friend pulled back.

He bowed and smiled as he said “Efficient as always”

“Well one of has to be. Is the portal secure?”

The portal was, in fact, ready for safe passage and return so we stepped through to continue our quest.

 

[MrFilthyIke]

Ve'sadriphe Mahkeyl

Ve’sadriphe Mahkeyl
(veh-SAH-dre-fay MAH-kail)

A human male in his twenties, Ve’sadriphe is a fine example of a Kio male born into a family of wealth and prominence in his home town of Whon, the capital of the nation of Capharra. Fair white skin, platinum blonde shoulder-length hair, and unnerving lavender eyes contrast with his dark clothing.

A mithril coat hidden under a high-collared blood red shirt embroidered with golden phoenixes, paired with black breaches and black leather boots. Over this is worn a high-collared cloak, black as the new moon night and held with a silver pin given to him my an enchanting elven bard, and black leather gloves enchanted with golden images of clouds and hawks which allows him to summon birds of prey from the very heavens themselves. About his neck hangs a silver holy symbol of his chosen deity…Cadic, god of stealth, murder, and music.

At his waist hangs a sword and punching dagger, both finely wrought. Ve’sadriphe has forsaken the Kio tradition of dueling with the traditional Kio blade, and uses a two-weapon technique taught to borders scouts and huntsmen on the move. The sword is a long blade, bejeweled and keen, taken from the dead hands of Invapis, a despicable slaver and flesh-peddler. The punching dagger is a wicked and cruelly sharp knife named Cadic’s Mercy, for it has often put people out of their misery, as is the will of Cadic.
Strapped across his back is a bow of darkwood, short but taught.

Ve’sadriphe is a former Vyhre’ki (translated to Talonman) of the Phoenix Ve’ki (translated to Flight). Being born into money, Ve’sadriphe was guaranteed an easy life and most likely a commission to a powerful position. But something was always different about the young boy, and his eternal love for the night and dark places came to the forefront early in his childhood. He did join the nations military, but in the service of the branch that focused on scouting, espionage, and surveillance.

Here he excelled his knack for ambushing, sneaking, and getting the drop on others panned out well. But things took a turn for the worse, when on a simple mission, the Ve’ki was surprised by bugbears! The goblinoids got the advantage, and quickly slew the men under Ve’sadriphe’s command. Only one man made it out with him, and he soon passed into Beltine’s Cauldron while still in the wild. That day, he swore his hatred upon any goblin he ever faced again, and darkness settled upon his heart.

The scandal shook the family, as pride was important. Ve’sadriphe, to save face, left quietly a few nights later and never returned to Capharra in the League of Princes.

Ve'sadriphe is a dark, brooding man of few words and swift action. He is quick to take up the good fight, and never asks for compensation. He holds his honor and integrity above everything, and speaks only the plain truth. When justice can be brought down upon the wicked, Ve'sadriphe is the first to introduce a wrong-doer to Cadic's embrace, even if justice requires going above and beyond the law. He has decided to bring justice to the wicked lands beyond the League, and now travels the world on horseback.

And that’s when, while traveling through Milandir, he met a Dwarven warrior woman named Vanka, and his real adventures began…

------------------------------------------

Freeport, city of pirates…I loath this place. Give me the outdoors and wide open spaces, not the crowded streets and filthy run-off of the hive of humanity. We are here because we found a young boy child ship-wrecked upon a small island, nay…a rock in the ocean. We gave him shelter and succor on our ship, only to be attacked by pirates! They captured him and we managed to follow their ship here, but now the search is on to find this child, obviously of noble blood, and save him before the worst happens.

Glib words, handshakes, and lots of coin have lead us to an inn that’s right up the road from here. Maybe the contact there knows…AMBUSH! Quickly I duck as the scimitar whistles above my head. My blades are out, Invapis’ blade in the right, Cadic’s Mercy in the left. Parrying the second assailant’s swing, I plunged Cadic’s Mercy into the chest of my first attacker and am rewarded with the knowledge of his death, as his heart’s blood pumps out and down my forearm.

Standing back up, and a more suitable fighting stance, I quickly spin and twist to the side to dodge my third opponent’s stab with a short blade. Quick counting before parrying the second man’s swing reveals four more men lunging at me, I’m surrounded! Cut off from my group (who are also swarmed with attackers), I go on the defensive, my sword parrying swings and my knife deflecting thrusts that tear into my cloak.

I see an opening, and as one thug lunges with his blade I lean back and hook it in Cadic’s Mercy, using his momentum to lead the blade into the chest of his ally. Horror washes across his face as he slays his accomplice, and is then run through himself upon my sword.

My other foes hesitated as the two men dropped to the ground, and I pressed the advantage and went on the attack. A deft slash and one thug dropped his scimitar, blood spurting from the artery cut in wrist of his fighting hand, while another gave a shout, raised his sword above his head and came to an abrupt stop, finished only by a gurgle, as my punch dagger was pulled from where I embedded it in his throat.

I turned as another tried to flank me, and parried his swing as I was hit in the side by the remaining attacker, his blade biting deep. As I pulled away from the man who wounded me, I span around and brought my sword down upon his forearm and cracked the bone, while turning some more and shoving Cadic’s Mercy into the belly on the last standing opponent.

As the two slumped to the ground, I panted and winced at the pain in my side. I could see my party, and my friend Vanka had felled their foes. As I approached, I chuckled slightly, and helped Vanka pull her great axe from the head of her victim.

“Hit them any harder, and we’ll need a team of horses to get the axe out next time”

The party laughed, and then began searching the bodies for clues as to who had sent these thugs after them.


edit: email same as above - mrfilthyike (AT) gmail (DOT) com

 

[Kai Lord]

The time for entries is over! No more characters will be considered after this post. Krail and I will be posting our finalists in the next few days so stay tuned!

 

[MrFilthyIke]

Awww, but I wanted to post 100 more characters! Can't wait to see who won!

 

[DeadlyUematsu]

Aww...

 

[Oryan77]

Do you guys take bribes? I heard Krail washed your car everyday for a month to win the last contest. I was wondering if you like 2 coats of wax or 3?

 

[Kae'Yoss]

Don't bribe. Sheesh, be a real man.


@Kai Lord: You're not afraid of certain people (like me) paying you a visit in the dead of night, all agitated because they didn't win, bringing duct tape and sharp implements? Well, maybe you should