Post/Author/DateTime	Post
#1 Pangur Oct 20, 2008 2:40:04	Please do not post to this thread. If you would like something changed or added, please send me an e-mail or PM (preferably an e-mail), or simply post in the DM paging thread. Character Approval: A player must submit the character (constructed using 3.5 D&D rules) and description to the DM (Pangur Bàn) by e-mail. The PC is not approved for play until it is listed on the Census thread. Players who post in game without prior approval will have their posts subject to deletion. A player may request to have a character's record and/or history omitted from this thread and recorded privately by the DMs, but all player characters must represent a minor noble family. The character description will still be posted here. Characters are to be generated with PHB rules. (Those rules may be reviewed here, or here, if you have trouble with a pdf format.) The only permitted variants to PHB classes are the expert NPC class (DMG, pg 109) and the wilder class from the Expanded Psionics Handbook (hereafter referred to as the XPH). Feats and skills from the XPH are also permitted to player characters. If those feats or skills do not require a psionic focus or power point expenditure, they may be used by a non-psionic character. (This includes the Extra Power feat: replace the word "power" with "spell" for spellcasters.) However, transparency between spells and psionic powers has been extended beyond the norm: Knowledge (psionics) and Psicraft are covered instead by Knowledge (arcana) and Spellcraft respectively. (Item creation feats are handled separately, however.) In addition, all characters use the features of the aristocrat class (DMG, pg 108) where that is advantageous. Thus, all characters have a minimum of d8 for HD, good Will saves, proficiency with all simple and martial weapons and all types of armor and shields, BAB no worse than a rogue's, and a base of at least 4 skill points per level. They also treat all skills on the aristocrat skill list as class skills. Characters ability scores are generated with the 32 point buy method (base scores start at 8) and start at level 1. Apply racial modifiers after spending all of your points. 32 Point Buy
#2 Pangur Oct 20, 2008 17:16:59	Tristram Malic Jannistaire The bastard child of Lord Alexander Jannis (the suffix "staire" denotes illegitimate status) and an unknown elf, Tristram Malic Jannisstaire, or Mal as he is known by his friends, is an intelligent young man of 19. His brown hair is cut short and the intelligence behind his eyes belies his age. Although an imposing and commanding sight, Mal is soft-spoken. Mal proudly wears his father's colours and coat of arms. Despite his the nature of his birth, Mal was raised by his father with love and care, raised alongside Lord Jannis' legitimate offspring. He has been trained in the art of battle, history, languages, and the duties of the nobility (though he could never hope to aspire to inherit his father's title). Under pressure from his father's wife, he was persuaded to enlist in the Silver Sword. Though aware of the reasons she wanted him sent away, Mal hopes to bring his father some measure of honour through his service. Tristram Malic Jannisstaire Male half-elf fighter 3 LG Medium humanoid Init +0; Senses low-light vision; Listen +3, Spot +4 Languages Celestial, Common, Elven, Giant, Halfling Defensive Information AC 17, touch 10, flat-footed 17 (+5 armor, +2 shield) hp 30 (3d10 HD); DCon 2 (chainmail) Immune sleep effects Fort +6 Ref +1, Will +3 (+5 against enchantments)
#3 Pangur Oct 20, 2008 17:24:17	Xade Lilfellow Xade's grandmother, Alexandra, arranged for Father Kelly to train the boy so that he might fulfill the obligation his family owed to the House of Reise. The old priest should have been enjoying the peace of his venerable age, but he in turned owed a great debt to Alexandra for aid rendered to him 45 years earlier. Having little to no patience with the irresponsible young halfling in his tutelage, Father Kelly punished Xade frequently and severely, usually by locking him in the cellar. Developing a dreadful fear of rats, Xade took to filling rocks in his pockets with which to defend himself. Combined with long, grueling hours of study and frequent examinations, it was inevitable that Xade would break from sanity for a time. He is mostly recovered from the ordeal now, but remains just a little unstable -- not dangerous to himself or others, but obsessive-compulsive tendencies have coupled with a short attention span and a lack of impulse control. In his own mind, however, Xade is well adjusted and everyone else is odd. Xade, wears mostly earthen tones for robes. Brown, tan, grey. His holy symbol is oversized for a halfling and is attached to a chain meant for a human necklace. The symbol spends its time mostly tucked into a pocket in his robes and the chain around his neck guiding him to it. Rocks tend to click together in his satchel as he walks. Xade Lilfellow (Zade) Male halfling cleric 3 LN Small humanoid Age 33, Ht/Wt 2' 11", 29 lbs, Features blonde hair, green eyes Init +2; Senses Listen +8, Spot +6 Languages Common, Halfling, Orc Defensive Information AC 16, touch 13, flat-footed 13 (+1 size, +2 Dex, +3 chain shirt) DCon 2 (chain shirt) hp 20 (3d8) Resist +2 morale on saves against fear Fort +6, Ref +4, Will +6
#4 Pangur Oct 20, 2008 17:26:43	Elobi Anchors Stronger, quicker, and tougher than most of his peers, Elobi would have fit in better as a soldier's child, rather than the third son in the House of Anchors. Curt in manner and oblivious to both his physical and emotional environment, Elobi was seen as a burden and a danger in a house of silver tongued merchants. They sent him to Lawford Aniyeh, a local scholar and mage, to learn the fundamentals of their profession. Elobi threw himself into his studies in an attempt to please them, but while he could recite facts without difficulty, he lacked the insight to apply his knowledge practically. He fared better in learning the rudiments of magic, mastering a handful of spells. Before he could make much progress, however, his parents meddled in his future once again, enlisting him in the army. Confused yet pleased to be of service to the house, Elobi departed to begin his assignment. Elobi is rather tall and well muscled for a mage. He usually wears loose canvass pants and a grey tunic, free from the marking of his house. Lawford gave him with knee-length red overcoat as a parting gift, to keep him in good health. He wears it protectively, keeping spellcasting notes in an inner pocket. Elobi's red hair is worn closely, if crudely, cropped, and he is always clean shaven. When his green eyes aren't hidden behind notes, he'll stare resolutely at the object of his focus, hands in his pockets. Elobi Anchors Male human wizard 3 LN Medium humanoid Init +3; Senses Listen -1, Spot -1 Languages Common, Draconic, Celestial, Ignan, Terran Defensive Information AC 13, touch 13, flat-footed 10 (+3 Dex) hp 23 (3d8 HD) Fort +3, Ref +4, Will +2
#5 Pangur Oct 20, 2008 17:29:46	Gerin Gerin stands at 5'11" and carries around 197 lbs. A simple grey hood covers white hair cut into a short military style. Fair-skinned, he is heavily freckled from an outdoor life. His pale blue eyes seem filled with sorrow and pain. Aside from his grey cloak, most of his clothing is blue, with no visible symbol of his nobility. His knee-high leather boots are black, as is the simple leather bracer, tied with a leather cord, that always covers his right arm. A nondescript bastard sword rides at his hip. On the ring finger of his left hand sits a white gold band, into which a leaf pattern has been etched. Gèrin Argonise Male human fighter 3 NG Medium humanoid Init +0; Senses Listen +1, Spot +1 Languages Abyssal, Celestial, Common, Dwarven, Elven, Eternal Defensive Information AC 20, touch 10, flat-footed 20 (+4 Full Plate, +4 Proficiency Bonus, +2 heavy shield) DCon 4 (Full plate) hp 24 (3d10 HD) Fort +4, Ref +1, Will +4
#6 Pangur Oct 20, 2008 17:31:02	Thorik Whitestone At 4'9", Thorik stands slightly taller than most dwarves, though he's not quite so broad as many of his brethren. Thorgrim's hair is black, but he keeps the hair on his head and his beard short. (At present, the latter is no more than a tight goatee.) His black leather armor demonstrates his preference for dark colors, usually grays or black. A masterwork shield is worn strapped to his back, light hammers across his chest and lower back, and a handaxe at his side. He keeps most of his gear with him, in fact, with the idea that he'll be prepared for anything. At constant odds with traditional dwarven life, 48-year-old Thorik decided to leave and make it on his own. Relieved that he'd no longer be around to cause the community trouble, his family were just as happy to see him go. They referred him to the Silver Sword, hoping the duty might get the wanderlust out of his system and "mature" him. "Borrowing" his father's favorite shield (and leaving some funds toward the purchase of a new one), he set out for Garic's City. Thorik Male dwarf rogue 3 CN Medium humanoid Init +3; Senses darkvision 60 ft, Listen +6, Spot +6 Languages Common, Dwarven, Gnome, Orc Defensive Information AC 18, touch 13, flat-footed 15, +4 dodge vs giants (+3 Dex, +2 chain shirt, +2 large shield, +1 proficiency) hp 26 (3d8 HD); DCon 2 (chain shirt) Resist +4 on checks to resist bull rush or trip attempts when standing on the ground Fort +4 (+6 vs poison/spells), Ref +6 (+7 vs traps) (+8 vs spells), Will +3 (+4 vs spells); evasion
#7 Pangur Oct 20, 2008 17:33:05	Dorian "d'Grey" Hafstane For years, the memory of my father's home have haunted me. Now that the dreams have become less frequent, I entrust these words to my journal, so that I will never forget. Even after ten years, the memories are still vivid enough that I can smell the smoke of burning timbers mixed with the smell of burning meat. I doubt that that memory will ever fade. I was eighteen years old the year the Duke of Rolde attacked Rondell Keep. Still I can not blame him for the fall of my father; the fault for that treacherous attack lies with those who incited the Duke against him. Maybe I should tell you a bit more about myself, so that you can understand this tale when you read it. My name is Dorian Hafstane, first born son of Robert, Baron of Hafstane, lord of Rondell Keep, patron of the Rondell Bend. My father's keep was built in an elbow of the River Rondell and his lands were among the richest in the Duchy of Rolde. Through treachery and treason from those that coveted his lands, my father fell from grace, his lands and titles confiscated by the Duke. I fled to escape my father's fate and took the name Dorian the Grey for a time. To provide for myself, I became a mercenary, hiring out as a scout to those who needed my talents. I joined the imperial army two years ago, serving with distinction. When my superiors learned of my background, I was reassigned to the Silver Sword, though my true identity is still known to only a privileged few. I believe that I am now in a position to bring honor and glory back to the name Hafstane.[/i][/FONT] -- excerpt from the Chronicles of Dorian Hafstane Dorian "d'Grey" Hafstane stands a full seven feet tall, with long, dark hair tied back in a pony tail. His blue eyes shine brightly in contrast to his dark sun-tanned face. He favours green and brown clothes to better blend in with the woods that are his working grounds. Dorian relies on his marksmanship with the bow when he can, favouring a heavy boar spear in melee. His green leather armor and weapons all show signs of wear and use although they are obviously well made. Dorian wears the black trousers and brown shirt of an imperial scout's uniform, their badge small on the right shoulder of his shirt. A cloak with the hood thrown back, except in the harshest weather, complete his attire. Dorian d'Grey Male human, level 3 ranger (age 27) CG Medium humanoid Init +3; Senses Listen +5, Spot +5 Languages Common Defensive Information AC 16, touch 13, flat-footed 13 (+3 Dex +3 studded leather armor) DCon 1 (studded leather) hp 20 (3d8 HD) Fort +4, Ref +6, Will +3
#8 Pangur Oct 20, 2008 17:34:20	Zade Deftfingers War and raids are common with monsters roaming the land. From the mountain, orcs razed Zade's town when he was still a child. Zade lost his father to the raid; the rest of his family fled to a nearby town. There, Zade was enrolled in a local fighting school, in which he displayed a promising degree of skill with daggers. Years later, when the orcs attacked his new home, he was among the defenders. Though the town withstood the onslaught, Zade's mother was among the casualties. Vowing to one day avenge his parents' death, the boy travelled from town to town, seeking the kind of experience and allies he would need. The Silver Sword, in Garic's City. He set out for Garic's the next day, with a single thought in his mind for vengeance, not knowing when and where it might happen. Zade is a little taller then most halfings, though of average build. The penetrating stare of his bright, crystal blue eyes is almost constant. Trained to stealth, he wears only black colours. Zade Deftfingers Male halfling rogue 2 N Small humanoid Init +4; Senses Listen +7, Spot +5 Languages Common, Halfling, Dwarven, Elven, Giant Defensive Information AC 19, touch 16, flat-footed 15 (+1 size, +4 Dex, +3 armor) DCon 2 (chain shirt) hp 16 (2d8 HD) Resist +2 on saves against fear; evasion Fort +3 Ref +8, Will +4
#9 Pangur Oct 20, 2008 17:36:52	Arvindur Leafchaser Arvindur Leafchaser is of medium height for a halfling, but very lean. He keeps his thick, black hair, in braids, through which patches of scarred scalp are still visible. A heavy tan has blended most of the acid burns on his face, long since healed, into an even shade of brown. Wearing a suit of functional, though somewhat pungent, hide armor, Arvindur commonly travels mounted. Wolfkin, his aptly named riding dog, dwarfs his diminutive master, and is by far the better groomed of the pair. Arvindur was raised in the nomadic, atavistic traditions of the Morian Wood. A roving dragon's caustic breath left him disfigured when he was barely old enough to walk. The creature also took his family from him, leaving him to be raised by Cyrrbrand. This aged, childless druid set about teaching the younger halfling his craft, finding him an apt pupil over the years. When Cyrrbrand finally succumbed to age, reluctance to accept the old druid's apprentice as his heir resulted in Arvindur's current position as his people's representative with the Silver Sword. Traditionally, only the druids of Morian Woods ride wolves. The reasons why Arvindur has a dog mount, indicating a lesser status among his people, are his secret. Arvindur Leafchaser Male halfling druid 2 N Small humanoid Init +2; Senses low-light vision; Listen +5, Spot +3 Languages Common, Druidic, Elven, Halfling, Sylvan Age30 Height 3 ft Weight 25 lbs Defensive Information AC 18, touch 13, flat-footed 16 (+1 size, +2 Dex, +4 armor, +1 shield) hp 16 (2d8 HD); DCon 1 (hide) Resist +2 morale bonus on saves against fear effects Fort +7, Ref +3, Will +7
#10 Pangur Oct 20, 2008 18:10:11	Stranger I will challenge myself today and attempt to keep this brief. Unusual and strange, I know, but sometimes a story is forced to fit a timeline. In this case, I am attempting to enter lovely Garic’s City on the next well guarded carevan, which leaves relatively soon I’m afraid, so it will have to, tragically, be quite short indeed my fair audiance. To keep the story short, I shall tell a familiar one: my own. I was a strapping and handsome man in my youth, strong as any average boy and ready to see the world and all its glory. I took a particular interest in theatre, in song. That was because the song echoed endlessly in my head from my earliest memories. I can still hear its notes, even as my ears fade away. I heard it since my time in the womb, and I hummed it before I could speak. The song played endlessly through my mind, and with it came the stories. My god, the stories. The world was rich, it was beautiful, it was all there in my head to be seen and examined! Then I found the stories of the world, found they were more beautiful still! For every thing, from stone to tear, has a story my friends, an endless one. I digress, and time grows short. I grew as a noble’s son. My father was a wise and wonderful man, one who knew his people. He raised me among the people he sought to serve, allowed me to till the fields with the workers. Encouraged friendships and in later years love. We were a lovely community, of people who shared and shared alike. Twas not to last. My best friend, Miltiades Triphosa; he blamed the Gods. He lost his faith and gathered the remnants of the people to wage a war against the Gods for their cruelties. I don’t follow such a path myself: things happen, and the Gods are too busy warring with each other or trying to save or damn or souls to come down and personally wreck our lives. You see, there came a storm. This storm took the magic from the priests of our village, including the young prodigy Triphosa, and it gave us sickness. It ate our bodies, it ate our minds. I, like Triphosa, was one of the ‘lucky’ ones. I survived only to wither a little at a time, skeletal and half the man I grew to be. Who in the audiance can guess my age? Forty? Generous, lass. Eighty? Very critical of you, sir. No, I am a mere twenty years old, and I won’t be getting much older. The good news is that it does not spread. It never did beyond the damned rains of our village. It was and always will be just us. My strength was sapped, my parents dead, my brothers slain, my sisters ill-fed. At first we lost our strength, then our bodies. Then it began to eat at our eyes, our ears, and our minds. So much goes unnoticed these days. So much remembered in crystal clarity, but it seems as though something is missing. What I really want to do, pushing aside the past, is write the story that I know is in my head. To write that thing, that beautiful thing. Ah, my God it will be beautiful. I know my days are numbered, you see, and so I intend to write a story to leave behind, my legacy of sorts but more my life. A hero never dies. He lives forever in the story he is portrayed in or that he wrote. Yes, it will be a tale of sorrow and joy, beauty and madness. It will be my epitaph, written and sung forever in the halls of the people, the people and their stories that I love so dearly. It will- “You can stop talking to yerself, lad. We’s at the gates now. To Garic’s.” I bid you adieu, my fair audiance. It is off to Garic’s. Off to find my story. Stranger is a tall man, standing at 6’8’’. For all his height, however, he has little flesh to him. He is almost skeletally thin, a fact only vaguely obscured by his elegant clothing and the mask he wears at all times. He is a wiry man with long limbs and extraordinarily long fingers. The mask he wears is locked in a perpetual smile, the eye slits covered with a white material that allows the man to peer through it all the same while others are not able to look in. It looks to be made of porcelain, feels as though it was made from silk, and seems stronger than both. His clothing is primarily black, lined with silver at the edges. He wears a massive two tail coat with a large circular collar, rimmed in silver. The two tails end in sharp angles, pointing a little more outwards than down, yet still circling around his form. He also wears pure white gloves, and high rise white leather boots that end in seemingly seperate black shoes, ending with black and white bordering at the downturned top. He wears a white silk scarf that is just visible in the crook of his collar, and a grey sash at his waist, also just visible as the coat begins to pull away into the tails. He never wears his armor when he is wearing this. When traveling, he merely wears obscuring, drab clothing that heavily contrasts with his mask. As for the man himself, he has slate grey eyes and metallic grey hair that is very neatly combed, a small amount of it allowed to fall before the mask and curl on the right side of his face. The sides of his head, the only flesh that is ever visible due to the man’s tendency to obscure himself in clothing, is extremely pale and stretched tight. His facial structure is also tightly constricted, but still remains pleasant all the same. His eyes are very thin, his eyelids always half closed. His mouth is thin and sharp as well, accentuated by high and pronounced cheekbones. Though he looks to be perhaps a well aged fifty or sixty year old man, he is actually only twenty years of age. Stranger Male human bard 1 CG Medium humanoid Init +1; Senses Listen +0, Spot -1 Languages Common, Celestial, Elven, Draconic, Dwarven, Halfling, Abyssal Defensive Information AC 11, touch 10, flat-footed 11 (+0 Dex, +1 armor) DCon 1 (leather) hp 5 (1d6 HD) Fort -1 Ref +3, Will +2
#11 Pangur May 14, 2009 14:16:54	Satyre Saoneldi Tyrnea'lyth, or Satyre, is a lean half-elf of average height (5' 9", 150 lbs). He keeps his dark brown hair cut short and combed forward, framing his face. (Think Julius Caesar or Napoleon Bonaparte.) He also maintains some facial hair, trimmed neatly. Satyre's skin is fair and his eyes are a crystal blue. His clothing, though nothing extraordinary, is definitely made of finer material. Satyre can usually be found in a crimson knee-length coat with a high collar and a white frilly shirt spilling out of the top buttons, which he leaves undone. Dark leather leggings and boots complete the look. His right hand bears a signet ring engraved in Elven, with a star emblem in the center. At any given time he carries both a finely made lute and a bow of reasonable length across his back. A quiver rests at waist-height, across from a sheathed rapier. He keeps a dagger strapped to one boot. Satyre's studded leather armor is worn only when circumstances call for it; its condition speaks little of past battles. In fact, nothing from Satyre's appearance would make one think he has seen much trouble in his journeys. Satyre Half-elf male bard 2 CN Medium humanoid Init +3; Senses low-light vision; Listen +2, Spot +2 Languages Common, Draconic, Elven, Sylvan, Gnome Defensive Information AC 16, touch 13, flat-footed 13; Dodge (+3 Dex, +3 studded leather) hp 14 (.5) (2d8 HD); DCon 1 (studded leather) Immune sleep effects Fort +1, Ref +6, Will +3 (+5 against enchantments)
#12 Pangur Jul 29, 2009 17:39:38	Sliverny False-Eye Approximately 2'8", Sliverny False-Eye is a hunched over gnome, lacking in the twinkly eye that one normally finds. Her hair is brown and pixie cut, her nose large and her eyes green. One eye is bloodshot. She marches resolutely with a brown leather satchel filled with all kinds of goodies. She is dressed, head to toe, in an unflattering blue robe. Despite her haggard appearance, her voice is full and lilting, proving that she is (as she says) only 75. One hand holds fast to a gnome sized walking staff that hooks around at the top. Hanging from the hook is a hooded lanter that shines brightly about lest the hood is down. Sliverny False-Eye Female Gnome Diviner 1 TN Small humanoid Init +6; Senses low-light vision; Listen +2, Spot +0 Languages Common, Gnomish, Abyssal, Celestial, Draconic, Dwarven, Elven, Halfling, Infernal, Terran Defensive Information AC 13, touch 13, flat-footed 11 (+2 Dex, +1 size) (+4 Dodge bonus against Giants) hp 11 (1d8 HD); DCon 0 (unarmoured) Fort +3 Ref +2, Will +2 (+2 against Illusions)