Yo Ho Ho! Recruiting Spelljamming Pirates and Roguish Sorts to fill Openings!
- Thread starter Rystil Arden
- Start date
Rystil Arden
First Post
See, this makes me sad--I had such a list, but it was lostAvalon® said:
Rystil Arden
First Post
There's more possibilities with Nymphs than to play theGwydapLlew said:I play theoversexed PChigh-Charisma bard-type too often in my other games!
I was actually looking at the Mojin, but if there is a Dragonlord aboard, that would nix that idea. Must...read...material...
Rystil Arden
First Post
Not too shabby indeed--40 PB, right? Planeswalker is an interesting class--Recklessness was a funny PC. One favourite line of his--after the rest of the group took him on to man the helm, he sat down and said "Hi, my name is Recklessness, and I'm going to be your pilot today!" This was followed by his rolling a 1 on navigating them and getting everyone lostGwydapLlew said:
Fenris
Adventurer
RA,
I am quite interested in playing a class that does not have a write up yet. Would you have the time to do so? I am very interested in the Skald class. I am looking at a Skald Narleswoman who has escaped the abuse and future abuse destined for her.
I am assuming that the Skald is a Barbarian/bard or Fighter/ Bard hybrid. But this concept sings to me
If you don't have time, don't worry about it though.
I am quite interested in playing a class that does not have a write up yet. Would you have the time to do so? I am very interested in the Skald class. I am looking at a Skald Narleswoman who has escaped the abuse and future abuse destined for her.
I am assuming that the Skald is a Barbarian/bard or Fighter/ Bard hybrid. But this concept sings to me
If you don't have time, don't worry about it though.
Here is a partial background for a lacerta shaman. Do you want backgrounds drawn up for you to select from before we stat out and create a character?
[sblock]It was a forbidding environment, but I had prepared. The gathered elders instructed us to depart and go our separate ways that our instruction had ended and it was for us now to find our way. While the others choose the forested glades, I choose to tread where few would willing go. It took weeks to arrive, but the desert wasteland greeted me with is vast visual horizon. It was devoid of most life but I was determined to proceed and find my guardian spirit. I traveled by night, finding refuge by day. It was happenstance that I located the spot. I was climbing a rock formation when I spied the small spring hidden behind a boulder. A trickle of water flowed from it feeding small plants that grew along its edges before disappearing again within the folds of stone.
I unloaded my things and seated myself near the spring. I closed my eyes, relaxed and reached out to the world. It was on the fourth day that a lizard lazily basked in the warmth of the sun, eyes closed, it remained unconcerned, the dream flowed on.
I could see it, yet my eyes were shut. The black foldings of time and space heaved and fluttered. A black storm moved across the horizon. Slow, black waves on a black beach, whispering softly in, whispering softly out, “I am…I am not…I am… I am not…” My eyes opened. Saw nothing. Closed.
“Sleep no more lest darkness be the lot of all!” keened forth from the inky blackness. The nightmare was real, the curtains parted. Self-doubt yielded to wrath, ill-defined sorrow to a burning screaming pain. Death was more terrible where there had never been life and darkness thicker without so much as the memory of light. Cold had no frontiers where there was never warmth.
“The memory of the dream is weak, it must be rescued from the dark places in the mind, it must be brought to the light, cherished and tethered like a straying child.” The child of the void imparted. It had been dreaming away the unmeasurable ages until I had awoken it. The stars were dead as if they had never lived, the wheel of time was pitted, its very cradle served as its tomb. My eyes opened. Saw nothing. Yet remained open.
The land was covered in pitch, black and as ill-defined as the nebulous void. My mouth roared like thunder and I was answered by the imprisoned soul that yearned for a mother it had never had. The air stood still to listen, the water ceased to flow, and the rock grew soft and malleable. A great pain burned in my head like a hot sword warmed by its own anger. The sword grew in my head, a blade of razor sharp grief, cutting free, piercing the very walls of my well being. Darkness shuttered my eyes yet my vision was clear. This was a new vision, not the closing of a door, but the promise of a million doors to open.
“I shall cure your dumbness here and now, “ said the child of the void, “You are my first brother and my first friend. I am no longer alone. You are the first living thing and the last. You shall never rest. Nazrill, sleep no more. ”
My eyes opened. Saw. Stayed open, tears drying away. The lizard remained and the dream flowed on. I stood and gathered my belongings. As I began to walk, the child of the void whispered to me, “Stay awake. Determine. Resolve. Bring the dream to life. Through my guidance, you will learn the long story.”
[/sblock]
[sblock]It was a forbidding environment, but I had prepared. The gathered elders instructed us to depart and go our separate ways that our instruction had ended and it was for us now to find our way. While the others choose the forested glades, I choose to tread where few would willing go. It took weeks to arrive, but the desert wasteland greeted me with is vast visual horizon. It was devoid of most life but I was determined to proceed and find my guardian spirit. I traveled by night, finding refuge by day. It was happenstance that I located the spot. I was climbing a rock formation when I spied the small spring hidden behind a boulder. A trickle of water flowed from it feeding small plants that grew along its edges before disappearing again within the folds of stone.
I unloaded my things and seated myself near the spring. I closed my eyes, relaxed and reached out to the world. It was on the fourth day that a lizard lazily basked in the warmth of the sun, eyes closed, it remained unconcerned, the dream flowed on.
I could see it, yet my eyes were shut. The black foldings of time and space heaved and fluttered. A black storm moved across the horizon. Slow, black waves on a black beach, whispering softly in, whispering softly out, “I am…I am not…I am… I am not…” My eyes opened. Saw nothing. Closed.
“Sleep no more lest darkness be the lot of all!” keened forth from the inky blackness. The nightmare was real, the curtains parted. Self-doubt yielded to wrath, ill-defined sorrow to a burning screaming pain. Death was more terrible where there had never been life and darkness thicker without so much as the memory of light. Cold had no frontiers where there was never warmth.
“The memory of the dream is weak, it must be rescued from the dark places in the mind, it must be brought to the light, cherished and tethered like a straying child.” The child of the void imparted. It had been dreaming away the unmeasurable ages until I had awoken it. The stars were dead as if they had never lived, the wheel of time was pitted, its very cradle served as its tomb. My eyes opened. Saw nothing. Yet remained open.
The land was covered in pitch, black and as ill-defined as the nebulous void. My mouth roared like thunder and I was answered by the imprisoned soul that yearned for a mother it had never had. The air stood still to listen, the water ceased to flow, and the rock grew soft and malleable. A great pain burned in my head like a hot sword warmed by its own anger. The sword grew in my head, a blade of razor sharp grief, cutting free, piercing the very walls of my well being. Darkness shuttered my eyes yet my vision was clear. This was a new vision, not the closing of a door, but the promise of a million doors to open.
“I shall cure your dumbness here and now, “ said the child of the void, “You are my first brother and my first friend. I am no longer alone. You are the first living thing and the last. You shall never rest. Nazrill, sleep no more. ”
My eyes opened. Saw. Stayed open, tears drying away. The lizard remained and the dream flowed on. I stood and gathered my belongings. As I began to walk, the child of the void whispered to me, “Stay awake. Determine. Resolve. Bring the dream to life. Through my guidance, you will learn the long story.”
[/sblock]
Rough background for Pleb Ronin. I am open for ideas on firming up some of the looser areas, especially towards the end when I sort of ran out of steam.
[sblock]I will die by the sword.
It seems almost too simple of a truth to admit, but as Master Hirosha instructed all of us, it is the simplest truths that are always the hardest to learn. Age will not steal the strength from my limbs, but it will make me wiser. Diseases that have the power to destroy worlds die within me as quickly as they enter, as there is no true lifeblood for it to feed upon in my body. I am the perfect machine, created to live among those who are alive, yet allowed to know from the first moment that my eyes opened that I will never truly belong among them.
My first master sought to augment his standing among peers by securing an alliance with one of the many clans among the Larakese. His first offers fell upon deaf ears, as those clans were proud and the thought of being little more than highly paid mercenaries brought a great insult to them. However even among the proud, there are those who see honor as something that can still be maintained, even if it is buoyed slightly by coin. A deal was struck and as a sign of good will, my master left myself and my “sister” behind with Lord Kiadoshu of the Dracowasp Clan. It was obvious to my new Lord why she had been left behind, but my new Lord did not know what to do with me and as quickly as I was given to him, I was given to my third and final master, Master Hirosha.
Old and proud of every one of his years, Master Hirosha voiced his displeasure at my being forced upon him for the first year that I served him. I was verbally abused each morning for simply standing outside, then equally abused in the evenings when he would see me standing just inside the doorway of his house. When I did as he asked, it seemed to only enrage him more and then came the morning when everything changed between the two of us.
The sun was barely coming up when Master Hirosha opened the door and began cursing me for standing there all night and commanded me to enter the house as the sight of me was ruining his sunrise. Although my first instinct was to enter the house, I forced myself to stand still. His eyes narrowed when he saw that I was not moving inside, and Master Hirosha’s voice became deathly calm as he told me once more to go inside. My feet almost betrayed me as I stood there before him and spoke for the first time to him.
“No.”
I wish I could say that in that moment he smiled, laughed and said he had been waiting for me to show some spine. It would be a lie though if I did, as before I knew what was happening, Master Hirosha had kicked my feet from underneath me and had a foot placed to my throat.
“Rule one. When you are given an order, you do not question it. Samurai do not question, they must be able to react without thoughts getting in their way. Do you understand me?”
Unsure if I could function with a crushed windpipe, I managed to croak out an answer that was close enough to a yes for him, but even as he removed his foot, his eyes held me pinned to the ground by the strength of his will.
“If you fail, I will kill you myself.”
ooOOoo
I trained under Master Hirosha and although many whispered, he was committing an act of sacrilege, Lord Kiadoshu did not stop him from training me, and if anything, he seemed amused at Master Hirosha’s “pet” playing with wooden swords and learning the basic arts of swordplay. Master Hirosha’s temperament only seemed to worsen after my training began, as nothing I did seemed to be right. I was too crude with my swings, left my stances too open, was too rothe headed to learn how properly block, and other grave insults which left me wondering if my lot in my life had truly improved. It frustrated him that I never grew tired, that I did not need to break for the passing of fluids, and other things that he could use against me to hone my mind and body into something sharper than a bird that could mimic voices, but never grasp the true ability of speech.
I began to turn the things that Master Hirosha called my weaknesses to become my strengths. While he slept, I practiced throughout the night, moving through the steps of that day until I could perform them with my eyes closed. Soon I began to trust the budding confidence that was growing within me and before I realized it, the wooden swords had been replaced with dull steel ones and my training began anew. Blisters formed, cracked and turned into hard calluses as I spent my nights learning to draw the blades and strike without giving my body time to think of the act.
The whispers of my skill were causing a new wave of unrest, as I was now mastering things in half the time it took others and what had started off as racial bias had suddenly developed into base envy. The strength and reflexes that my creators had imprinted within me were honed to match that of the swords I was allowed to carry when Master Hirosha slept and I meditated outside of his doorway as a trusted sentinel, as well as pupil.
His death marked the end of my training, but I knew that I had learned from him all he could teach me. His mind was sharp, but his body had begun to betray him and he would not allow himself to be seen as weak old man by the clan. When he asked me to assist him in preparing the hara-kiri ceremony, I realized he was asking me as an equal and not as his student. With only Lord Kiadoshu and myself as witnesses to the act, my Master retained his honor and dignity and died as he had lived, by the sword.
ooOOoo
I am now in Jhaar and branded as a Ronin by both the people who created me and those that for a brief period allowed me to live among them by the suffrage of Master Hirosha and Lord Kiadoshu, both dead now, but only one with true honor.
I had allowed myself to forget what had brought me to Xarata and that lapse in thinking was nearly the death of me. Lord Kiadoshu summoned me to his chambers and told me that the time for his favor to the Praetorians had arrived. What Lord Kiadoshu did not tell me was that I was to be sent not because I had earned the right to wear the blades of a Samurai, but because the Praetorians wished bloodshed without getting their hands sullen and Lord Kiadoshu wished to prove that he was not a fool. He would honor the law of the agreement by sending someone to do their fighting, but he would not waste a life of a Larakese on a fool’s errand. Lord Kiadoshu’s command was my life and bowing simply I prepared myself to be sent to my death.
When my vision cleared from the teleport spell, my swords were already in my hands, but I was not being attacked. I found myself on Jhaar, but I am not sure how or why. I have been heard stories in the time that had passed from there to now about the Dracowasp’s being nearly destroyed when the Praetorians learned of their attempted double crossing and the first year there was a search for the rogue Samurai that betrayed his clan in the first place to them. I killed the first three men who sought to return me to a life of captivity, but I know there may be others who allow coin to override their desire to live. In the mean time, I still seek to honor Master Hirosha, but I do it my way now not by the laws which governed his life.
It may be my destiny to die by the sword, but I intend to make sure it does not happen until I am ready.[/sblock]
[sblock]I will die by the sword.
It seems almost too simple of a truth to admit, but as Master Hirosha instructed all of us, it is the simplest truths that are always the hardest to learn. Age will not steal the strength from my limbs, but it will make me wiser. Diseases that have the power to destroy worlds die within me as quickly as they enter, as there is no true lifeblood for it to feed upon in my body. I am the perfect machine, created to live among those who are alive, yet allowed to know from the first moment that my eyes opened that I will never truly belong among them.
My first master sought to augment his standing among peers by securing an alliance with one of the many clans among the Larakese. His first offers fell upon deaf ears, as those clans were proud and the thought of being little more than highly paid mercenaries brought a great insult to them. However even among the proud, there are those who see honor as something that can still be maintained, even if it is buoyed slightly by coin. A deal was struck and as a sign of good will, my master left myself and my “sister” behind with Lord Kiadoshu of the Dracowasp Clan. It was obvious to my new Lord why she had been left behind, but my new Lord did not know what to do with me and as quickly as I was given to him, I was given to my third and final master, Master Hirosha.
Old and proud of every one of his years, Master Hirosha voiced his displeasure at my being forced upon him for the first year that I served him. I was verbally abused each morning for simply standing outside, then equally abused in the evenings when he would see me standing just inside the doorway of his house. When I did as he asked, it seemed to only enrage him more and then came the morning when everything changed between the two of us.
The sun was barely coming up when Master Hirosha opened the door and began cursing me for standing there all night and commanded me to enter the house as the sight of me was ruining his sunrise. Although my first instinct was to enter the house, I forced myself to stand still. His eyes narrowed when he saw that I was not moving inside, and Master Hirosha’s voice became deathly calm as he told me once more to go inside. My feet almost betrayed me as I stood there before him and spoke for the first time to him.
“No.”
I wish I could say that in that moment he smiled, laughed and said he had been waiting for me to show some spine. It would be a lie though if I did, as before I knew what was happening, Master Hirosha had kicked my feet from underneath me and had a foot placed to my throat.
“Rule one. When you are given an order, you do not question it. Samurai do not question, they must be able to react without thoughts getting in their way. Do you understand me?”
Unsure if I could function with a crushed windpipe, I managed to croak out an answer that was close enough to a yes for him, but even as he removed his foot, his eyes held me pinned to the ground by the strength of his will.
“If you fail, I will kill you myself.”
ooOOoo
I trained under Master Hirosha and although many whispered, he was committing an act of sacrilege, Lord Kiadoshu did not stop him from training me, and if anything, he seemed amused at Master Hirosha’s “pet” playing with wooden swords and learning the basic arts of swordplay. Master Hirosha’s temperament only seemed to worsen after my training began, as nothing I did seemed to be right. I was too crude with my swings, left my stances too open, was too rothe headed to learn how properly block, and other grave insults which left me wondering if my lot in my life had truly improved. It frustrated him that I never grew tired, that I did not need to break for the passing of fluids, and other things that he could use against me to hone my mind and body into something sharper than a bird that could mimic voices, but never grasp the true ability of speech.
I began to turn the things that Master Hirosha called my weaknesses to become my strengths. While he slept, I practiced throughout the night, moving through the steps of that day until I could perform them with my eyes closed. Soon I began to trust the budding confidence that was growing within me and before I realized it, the wooden swords had been replaced with dull steel ones and my training began anew. Blisters formed, cracked and turned into hard calluses as I spent my nights learning to draw the blades and strike without giving my body time to think of the act.
The whispers of my skill were causing a new wave of unrest, as I was now mastering things in half the time it took others and what had started off as racial bias had suddenly developed into base envy. The strength and reflexes that my creators had imprinted within me were honed to match that of the swords I was allowed to carry when Master Hirosha slept and I meditated outside of his doorway as a trusted sentinel, as well as pupil.
His death marked the end of my training, but I knew that I had learned from him all he could teach me. His mind was sharp, but his body had begun to betray him and he would not allow himself to be seen as weak old man by the clan. When he asked me to assist him in preparing the hara-kiri ceremony, I realized he was asking me as an equal and not as his student. With only Lord Kiadoshu and myself as witnesses to the act, my Master retained his honor and dignity and died as he had lived, by the sword.
ooOOoo
I am now in Jhaar and branded as a Ronin by both the people who created me and those that for a brief period allowed me to live among them by the suffrage of Master Hirosha and Lord Kiadoshu, both dead now, but only one with true honor.
I had allowed myself to forget what had brought me to Xarata and that lapse in thinking was nearly the death of me. Lord Kiadoshu summoned me to his chambers and told me that the time for his favor to the Praetorians had arrived. What Lord Kiadoshu did not tell me was that I was to be sent not because I had earned the right to wear the blades of a Samurai, but because the Praetorians wished bloodshed without getting their hands sullen and Lord Kiadoshu wished to prove that he was not a fool. He would honor the law of the agreement by sending someone to do their fighting, but he would not waste a life of a Larakese on a fool’s errand. Lord Kiadoshu’s command was my life and bowing simply I prepared myself to be sent to my death.
When my vision cleared from the teleport spell, my swords were already in my hands, but I was not being attacked. I found myself on Jhaar, but I am not sure how or why. I have been heard stories in the time that had passed from there to now about the Dracowasp’s being nearly destroyed when the Praetorians learned of their attempted double crossing and the first year there was a search for the rogue Samurai that betrayed his clan in the first place to them. I killed the first three men who sought to return me to a life of captivity, but I know there may be others who allow coin to override their desire to live. In the mean time, I still seek to honor Master Hirosha, but I do it my way now not by the laws which governed his life.
It may be my destiny to die by the sword, but I intend to make sure it does not happen until I am ready.[/sblock]
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