Those competing it Sorcen's Battle Royale post your characters and backstories/information here!
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On the pedestal before you rests an enormous tome, bound in leather and iron. Blazing red letters glow on the cover, areas of iron somehow still fresh off the forge. These spell out the legendary title of the ledger, a title known to warriors and historians alike: SORCEN'S BATTLE ROYALE: Competitors Registry.
The massive tome creaks open, hinges and bindings straining with the weight of the heavy cover. Age stained parchment turns under your hand, as you page slowly through the list of names: legendary warriors, powerful mages, cunning artificers...beings of unspeakable evil, and beings of unspeakable good...demons, angels, ghosts...the walking dead...these names are the stuff of myths and legends. These are the competitors of Sorcen's Battle Royale.
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ACTIVE CHARACTERS
Gideon Gideonson (on leave)
Gideon Gideonson...inventor, alchemist, mechanic, adventurer, artificer...there isn't much he doesn't do or hasn't tried. Once a full time artificer, his adventuring career blossomed when he met his one-time partner Revlis Nogard. However, after many years, Revlis retired to his abode in the forest, to live out his life with his wife. Gideon, however, had an lust for the adventuring life, and began work as a freelance artificer and adventurer.
Between his time with Revlis and his solo career, Gideon has chalked up many legendary deeds, from the destruction of the Ruby Pyramid, later found out to be Vecna's Phlactery (much to the god's annoyance...) to the infamous kidnapping of the Archangel Tillanias. Working for both exalted patrons and the common man, Gideon Gideonson is a name held in high esteem by many...or at least, those that he hasn't irritated. And he's irritated a lot of people.
Gideon is a human, raised by a small gnommish community. As a result, he wears his beard in the fashion of the gnomes and speaks fluent gnommish. He also recieved his interest in devices and mechanics of all kinds from his adopted parents and their community. Of his true heritage, nothing is known.
He dresses in practical leather attire, covered with patches after certain...explosive experiments, and also covered in numerous pockets, many containing dimensional breaching effects. These store his arsenal of unorthodox weaponry and devices. In stature he is a small man, of fairly average build, but his unusual mood swings, hot temper and bizzare and easily distracted personality make him more obvious than his figure would indicate. Annoying Gideon is a dangerous mistake to make, but, once his friend, he'll stand by you through pretty much anything...provided he's not distracted. He is known to suffer from a severe type of Attention Deficit Disorder, where he is obsessed by the possibilities of experimentation with everything he encounters, and he is forced to take strong medication to counter it. He also smokes incesently, supposedly to counter the depressive effects of the medicine. Lastly, he is addicted to caffiene and a number of stimulants, brought on by the need to work into the wee hours of the morning to finish some project...which he didn't work on earlier, since he was most likely in the bar until midnight.
Lately, Gideon has entered Sorcen's Battle Royale, but took leave for a long time on a quest into the Nine Hells in an alternate universe. He and four companions (later to be five) entered the portal, but, as of yet, only Gideon has returned, bursting out of the ground in the center of the arena. He refuses to comment on his adventure, so, until such time as another member of his party returns, the story will remain secret.
His fighting style is unorthodox at best, chaos at worst. He is unpredictable, and almost no one knows what he keeps secreted away. However, it is usually prudent to expect a large number of alchemic explosions, as well as some odd mechanical and magical devices used in gods know how many ways. When in doubt as to something's function, run.
Between his time with Revlis and his solo career, Gideon has chalked up many legendary deeds, from the destruction of the Ruby Pyramid, later found out to be Vecna's Phlactery (much to the god's annoyance...) to the infamous kidnapping of the Archangel Tillanias. Working for both exalted patrons and the common man, Gideon Gideonson is a name held in high esteem by many...or at least, those that he hasn't irritated. And he's irritated a lot of people.
Gideon is a human, raised by a small gnommish community. As a result, he wears his beard in the fashion of the gnomes and speaks fluent gnommish. He also recieved his interest in devices and mechanics of all kinds from his adopted parents and their community. Of his true heritage, nothing is known.
He dresses in practical leather attire, covered with patches after certain...explosive experiments, and also covered in numerous pockets, many containing dimensional breaching effects. These store his arsenal of unorthodox weaponry and devices. In stature he is a small man, of fairly average build, but his unusual mood swings, hot temper and bizzare and easily distracted personality make him more obvious than his figure would indicate. Annoying Gideon is a dangerous mistake to make, but, once his friend, he'll stand by you through pretty much anything...provided he's not distracted. He is known to suffer from a severe type of Attention Deficit Disorder, where he is obsessed by the possibilities of experimentation with everything he encounters, and he is forced to take strong medication to counter it. He also smokes incesently, supposedly to counter the depressive effects of the medicine. Lastly, he is addicted to caffiene and a number of stimulants, brought on by the need to work into the wee hours of the morning to finish some project...which he didn't work on earlier, since he was most likely in the bar until midnight.
Lately, Gideon has entered Sorcen's Battle Royale, but took leave for a long time on a quest into the Nine Hells in an alternate universe. He and four companions (later to be five) entered the portal, but, as of yet, only Gideon has returned, bursting out of the ground in the center of the arena. He refuses to comment on his adventure, so, until such time as another member of his party returns, the story will remain secret.
His fighting style is unorthodox at best, chaos at worst. He is unpredictable, and almost no one knows what he keeps secreted away. However, it is usually prudent to expect a large number of alchemic explosions, as well as some odd mechanical and magical devices used in gods know how many ways. When in doubt as to something's function, run.
Doran, Dragon Mage
The man sat by himself in the darkest corner of the room. His black hair barely hangs out from behind the hood of a black cloak, greying with age. His garb is simple and normal, exept for a broach in the shape of a small bat that holds the cloak tight about him. The lonely soul stares into his ale and mutters incessently to himself. Only halfway through his drink, he stands, places some coins upon the table, and walks slowly out of the bar....
Doran sat in the corner of the establishment which gave him a full view of the rest of the regulars. Ordering a mug of ale for himself he settled down to wait, his disguise working perfectly. From under his hood, he glanced around the bar constantly, seeking his informant. Nimbrixion saw him first, and the seemingly worthless broach whispered "Over there, third one from the left, with the cheap brandy."
"Good eyes, as always", Doran muttered; the silver wyrmling had always been more attuned to such things. Without the uttering of a single incantation or movement, he let the magic build and allowed it to embrace the man Nimbrixion had sighted. "We aren't about to lose him this time" he muttered into his cloak again. Soon, the informant left counter and plodded out the door. "Shouldn't we-"
"No, Nimbrixion, it might be susipicious." After a dutiful five minutes Doran, the Silverbrow mage, rusted his wings from under his cloak and left the bar. Catching up to his tipster Doran asked "Now, what is this talk of the Dragonfont?"
Doran, Silverbrow Human, Sorceror(approx. lvl 18)/Pact-Bound Adept/5, Silver Wyrmling familiar, Rod of Absorbtion, Portable Hole, Bag of holding type II, Bronzed cuff (2/day creates brilliant energy whip for five rounds), Dragons Eye Amulet (blindsense out to 30'). Born of draconic heritage and through his acceptance of this power, he twists the lawws of magic to his will; he can cast spells simultaneously, merging their effects into one (supposing he could normally cast those spells in the same turn seperately. Ex. swift action+free action, Free action+standard action, etc.)
Doran sat in the corner of the establishment which gave him a full view of the rest of the regulars. Ordering a mug of ale for himself he settled down to wait, his disguise working perfectly. From under his hood, he glanced around the bar constantly, seeking his informant. Nimbrixion saw him first, and the seemingly worthless broach whispered "Over there, third one from the left, with the cheap brandy."
"Good eyes, as always", Doran muttered; the silver wyrmling had always been more attuned to such things. Without the uttering of a single incantation or movement, he let the magic build and allowed it to embrace the man Nimbrixion had sighted. "We aren't about to lose him this time" he muttered into his cloak again. Soon, the informant left counter and plodded out the door. "Shouldn't we-"
"No, Nimbrixion, it might be susipicious." After a dutiful five minutes Doran, the Silverbrow mage, rusted his wings from under his cloak and left the bar. Catching up to his tipster Doran asked "Now, what is this talk of the Dragonfont?"
Doran, Silverbrow Human, Sorceror(approx. lvl 18)/Pact-Bound Adept/5, Silver Wyrmling familiar, Rod of Absorbtion, Portable Hole, Bag of holding type II, Bronzed cuff (2/day creates brilliant energy whip for five rounds), Dragons Eye Amulet (blindsense out to 30'). Born of draconic heritage and through his acceptance of this power, he twists the lawws of magic to his will; he can cast spells simultaneously, merging their effects into one (supposing he could normally cast those spells in the same turn seperately. Ex. swift action+free action, Free action+standard action, etc.)
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In progress
Septimus Magistos:
Physical Description: Standing straight in and proudly, the magician, as he chooses to call himself, even though his class is wizard, carries one brilliant staff or another in his hand. Even a casual observer will notice the large amount of staves, wands, scrolls, potions, and bags all over him. His face has a clever and friendly look on it, save for the time that he calls the power of magic down, at which time his face looks magestic and shines with a strange inner light. He's an average height, his hair is snow-white, even though he appears young and will tell to any who want to listen that it was once golden. His eyes are blue as forget-me-nots, and his teeth are white and pearly.
Personality: Though at first he tends to be reserved, Septimus will eventually loosen up. Those who know him best would describe him as smarty-pants know-it-all who gives surprisingly useful advice. He makes it his business to know everything, and to always be prepared, whatever else the case may be. He likes to compare himself to the Magician of the Tarot, for he has drawn this card early in his youth. He tends to prepare many magical items and carry them around with himself
Personal History: Septimus was born in a kingdom of Nor. He was the seventh son of a baron, who was also a seventh son. His family was lovable but fairly dull. Septimus was pushed towards becoming a wizard after drawing a card from the Tarot of Fate. He considers the abuse of magic to be the greatest of crimes. He met few wizards who were a match for him, and plans to meet fewer still in the future.
Personality: Though at first he tends to be reserved, Septimus will eventually loosen up. Those who know him best would describe him as smarty-pants know-it-all who gives surprisingly useful advice. He makes it his business to know everything, and to always be prepared, whatever else the case may be. He likes to compare himself to the Magician of the Tarot, for he has drawn this card early in his youth. He tends to prepare many magical items and carry them around with himself
Personal History: Septimus was born in a kingdom of Nor. He was the seventh son of a baron, who was also a seventh son. His family was lovable but fairly dull. Septimus was pushed towards becoming a wizard after drawing a card from the Tarot of Fate. He considers the abuse of magic to be the greatest of crimes. He met few wizards who were a match for him, and plans to meet fewer still in the future.
Active Characters(For battles that is)
Dralix, half-forest troll Geopsychic (0-1-0)
Name: Dralix
Race: Half-Forest Troll
Classes: Druid\Ardent\Geopsychic
Alignment: Neutral Good
Looks: 6'6'' tall, weighs 205 lbs, green skin with scales, yellow eyes, green tangled vine hair, green-feathered wings and fish gills in the neck.
Personality
Dralix is a potion-maniac. His most famous quote is "There is nothing that a good potion can't do". He has earned the reputation as a man who can be a furious combatant as well as an empathetic healer. Dralix enjoys raining down the fury of the elements and healing the wounded equally. As an Ardent, psionic powers are one of his abilities that he values, since they can be used to either help and harm. Unfortunately, Dralix has had several dramatic and violent encounters with kobolds, so he has become very hateful towards all kobolds.
Equipment
Weapons: Spear of the High Forest +5 Longspear (returns to hand when thrown, deals damage from all 4 elements, acid, cold, electricity and fire. Drains life energy when it hits, strengthening it's wielder. It is also poisoned, so it deals constitution damage).
Armor: "Jungle Moss" +4 Studded Leather (several protection bonuses, energy absorbing ability, saving throw bonuses and hide skill bonus in forests).
Headgear: Mask of Leadership (+4 to charisma and +8 to all charisma-based skill checks).
Cloak: Cloak of the Keeper (Granted only to the druid grove leaders, gives AC bonus, resistance to all elements, spell resistance and hide skill bonus in all natural enviroments).
Amulet: Amulet of Reflection Shield.
Rings: Ring of Missile Protection, Ring of Slashing Protection.
Belt: Belt of Supreme Inertial Barrier.
Boots: Boots of Great Haste.
Other: Has several potion bags and 3 bags of holding among other standard equipment.
Dralix can cast all druid spells, use up to 8th level psionic powers, use wild shape and has access to elemental, natural world and life mantles (psionic). Dralix also has some abilities granted him by Drift, which are similar to those of a Geomancer.
His Drifts are:
I: Green scaly skin, hair becomes tangle of short vines.
2: Photosynthesis, adaptant skin of octopus (+4 Hide)
3: Fish gills (water-breathing), owl's eyes (+4 Spot in darkness).
4: Boar's ferocity (difficult to kill), bear's grab (improved grab).
5: Feathered wings (fly speed 60 ft. (good)), Cheetah's speed (charge 10x normal speed. 1/hour)
Dralix has chosen to have an Earth Elemental companion instead of an animal companion.
The elemental's name is Eartern Rockfist. It stands about 26 feet tall.
Race: Half-Forest Troll
Classes: Druid\Ardent\Geopsychic
Alignment: Neutral Good
Looks: 6'6'' tall, weighs 205 lbs, green skin with scales, yellow eyes, green tangled vine hair, green-feathered wings and fish gills in the neck.
Personality
Dralix is a potion-maniac. His most famous quote is "There is nothing that a good potion can't do". He has earned the reputation as a man who can be a furious combatant as well as an empathetic healer. Dralix enjoys raining down the fury of the elements and healing the wounded equally. As an Ardent, psionic powers are one of his abilities that he values, since they can be used to either help and harm. Unfortunately, Dralix has had several dramatic and violent encounters with kobolds, so he has become very hateful towards all kobolds.
Equipment
Weapons: Spear of the High Forest +5 Longspear (returns to hand when thrown, deals damage from all 4 elements, acid, cold, electricity and fire. Drains life energy when it hits, strengthening it's wielder. It is also poisoned, so it deals constitution damage).
Armor: "Jungle Moss" +4 Studded Leather (several protection bonuses, energy absorbing ability, saving throw bonuses and hide skill bonus in forests).
Headgear: Mask of Leadership (+4 to charisma and +8 to all charisma-based skill checks).
Cloak: Cloak of the Keeper (Granted only to the druid grove leaders, gives AC bonus, resistance to all elements, spell resistance and hide skill bonus in all natural enviroments).
Amulet: Amulet of Reflection Shield.
Rings: Ring of Missile Protection, Ring of Slashing Protection.
Belt: Belt of Supreme Inertial Barrier.
Boots: Boots of Great Haste.
Other: Has several potion bags and 3 bags of holding among other standard equipment.
Dralix can cast all druid spells, use up to 8th level psionic powers, use wild shape and has access to elemental, natural world and life mantles (psionic). Dralix also has some abilities granted him by Drift, which are similar to those of a Geomancer.
His Drifts are:
I: Green scaly skin, hair becomes tangle of short vines.
2: Photosynthesis, adaptant skin of octopus (+4 Hide)
3: Fish gills (water-breathing), owl's eyes (+4 Spot in darkness).
4: Boar's ferocity (difficult to kill), bear's grab (improved grab).
5: Feathered wings (fly speed 60 ft. (good)), Cheetah's speed (charge 10x normal speed. 1/hour)
Dralix has chosen to have an Earth Elemental companion instead of an animal companion.
The elemental's name is Eartern Rockfist. It stands about 26 feet tall.
Tyrion, Dragon Monk (1-1-1, formerly deceased)
Tyrionalithxanus (his dragon name) or Tyrion Silverscale, Human (Dragon), Lawful Good, Monk 20/Tattooed Monk 10
Tyrion appears as an elderly but muscular man, with messy silver hair and a long silver beard. His eyes are golden with flecks of silver, and his skin has a silvery sheen when seen in the right light. He wears a white robe, and wields a quarterstaff called Whiteoak. Since his battle with Kronos and Socks, however, Tyrion has changed. He now wears gaudy clothes, and uses a sword named Dawnlight as often as his fists. He also uses a magical shuriken called Sunfire.
Tyrion was born to a middle class family of merchants. When he was twelve, his home was burned down by a fire. His parents and his entire family died in the fire. Tyrion vowed to learn what or who caused the fire, and punish them for what they did. He formed and some of his friends formed a group of fortune-seekers and called themsevles the Legionnaires of the Blue Sword. Their leader, Yathin (NG elf paladin 12), wielded a magical blue greatsword, from which the group got their name. The other members and Tyrion eventually found that Tyrion's father had been deep in debt and that his creditors had burned down all of his possessions so that they could enslave him and his family. They did not mean to kill everyone but Tyrion, but for the teenage Tyrion, it didn't matter. He sought out every single one of these men, and killed them.
Tyrion's deeds had him ejected from the Legionairres. Without friends or family, Tyrion went to an old monastary dedicated to an ancient dragon. There he lived for several years. But he wanted to find his friends again, and go on adventures once more.
After getting back together with his friends, Tyrion and the others gained great prestige and power, eventually turning back a horde of demons invading from the Abyss. They opened a gate to Celestia, and rallied the celestials to their cause. The routed the demons, but the demons left a creature of their making behind. Tyrion and his friends were forced to battle a demonic and extremely powerful Tarrasque, and one of Tyrion's friends was eaten and slain by the beast before they were able to destroy it. Tyrion and his friends then went on to battle a demon overlord and killed him and his closest minions and advisors. With the threat the demons posed eliminated, Tyrion and the remaining Legionnaires were hailed as heroes. A silver dragon even came to congratulate Tyrion, and offered to train him in the arts of a dragon monk. Tyrion readily accepted, and dissappeared for almost eight hundred years.
The world forgot about Tyrion and what he had saved them from. Tyrion returned to the world after completing his training. He traveled far and wide, enlightened to the good and evils of the world as dragons saw it. He was blessed by the father of silver dragons, and his power became legendary. Tyrion decided that his life's quest was to help eliminate one of the roots of all evil. He traveled to Baator by way of a planar gate and slew and destroyed entire armies of Baatezu beofre returning to the Material Plane. After resting for a few years, Tyrion returned to Baator. But he failed to cast the gate spell correctly in his haste to get to Baator. Instead, he opened a gate to Sorcen's Baator. The gate closed behind him, and he realized he was stuck here for a while.
After his battle with Valoran, Tyrion awoke to find himself in the Jailhouse. Making a pact with the Butcher, Tyrion agreed to help and accept help from Valoran to escape from the Jailhouse. Tyrion would protect Valoran while Valoran tried to help them escape. Finally, after thousands of years in the Jailhouse (really only a few days in real time), Valoran and Tyrion have returned. Tyrion, in his final battle to escape the Jailhouse and bring Valoran with him, sacrificed part of his mind to aid the butcher in openeing his own portal. Weakened in both mind and body, Tyrion barely defeated his foes and was able to escape from the Jailhouse. But his sacrifice had unwanted side effects. Tyrion is now partially insane, but he and the Butcher, once enemies, are now friends.
Tyrion appears as an elderly but muscular man, with messy silver hair and a long silver beard. His eyes are golden with flecks of silver, and his skin has a silvery sheen when seen in the right light. He wears a white robe, and wields a quarterstaff called Whiteoak. Since his battle with Kronos and Socks, however, Tyrion has changed. He now wears gaudy clothes, and uses a sword named Dawnlight as often as his fists. He also uses a magical shuriken called Sunfire.
Tyrion was born to a middle class family of merchants. When he was twelve, his home was burned down by a fire. His parents and his entire family died in the fire. Tyrion vowed to learn what or who caused the fire, and punish them for what they did. He formed and some of his friends formed a group of fortune-seekers and called themsevles the Legionnaires of the Blue Sword. Their leader, Yathin (NG elf paladin 12), wielded a magical blue greatsword, from which the group got their name. The other members and Tyrion eventually found that Tyrion's father had been deep in debt and that his creditors had burned down all of his possessions so that they could enslave him and his family. They did not mean to kill everyone but Tyrion, but for the teenage Tyrion, it didn't matter. He sought out every single one of these men, and killed them.
Tyrion's deeds had him ejected from the Legionairres. Without friends or family, Tyrion went to an old monastary dedicated to an ancient dragon. There he lived for several years. But he wanted to find his friends again, and go on adventures once more.
After getting back together with his friends, Tyrion and the others gained great prestige and power, eventually turning back a horde of demons invading from the Abyss. They opened a gate to Celestia, and rallied the celestials to their cause. The routed the demons, but the demons left a creature of their making behind. Tyrion and his friends were forced to battle a demonic and extremely powerful Tarrasque, and one of Tyrion's friends was eaten and slain by the beast before they were able to destroy it. Tyrion and his friends then went on to battle a demon overlord and killed him and his closest minions and advisors. With the threat the demons posed eliminated, Tyrion and the remaining Legionnaires were hailed as heroes. A silver dragon even came to congratulate Tyrion, and offered to train him in the arts of a dragon monk. Tyrion readily accepted, and dissappeared for almost eight hundred years.
The world forgot about Tyrion and what he had saved them from. Tyrion returned to the world after completing his training. He traveled far and wide, enlightened to the good and evils of the world as dragons saw it. He was blessed by the father of silver dragons, and his power became legendary. Tyrion decided that his life's quest was to help eliminate one of the roots of all evil. He traveled to Baator by way of a planar gate and slew and destroyed entire armies of Baatezu beofre returning to the Material Plane. After resting for a few years, Tyrion returned to Baator. But he failed to cast the gate spell correctly in his haste to get to Baator. Instead, he opened a gate to Sorcen's Baator. The gate closed behind him, and he realized he was stuck here for a while.
After his battle with Valoran, Tyrion awoke to find himself in the Jailhouse. Making a pact with the Butcher, Tyrion agreed to help and accept help from Valoran to escape from the Jailhouse. Tyrion would protect Valoran while Valoran tried to help them escape. Finally, after thousands of years in the Jailhouse (really only a few days in real time), Valoran and Tyrion have returned. Tyrion, in his final battle to escape the Jailhouse and bring Valoran with him, sacrificed part of his mind to aid the butcher in openeing his own portal. Weakened in both mind and body, Tyrion barely defeated his foes and was able to escape from the Jailhouse. But his sacrifice had unwanted side effects. Tyrion is now partially insane, but he and the Butcher, once enemies, are now friends.
Svent, the Dragon's Hammer (Record 0:0:0)
Race: Human
Age: 25
Height: 5' 6"
Weight: 154 lbs.
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Occupation: Assassin/Warrior/Bodyguard/Delegate/Messenger
Background: Svent (real name Robert Berkistan) was the son of a couple of explorers who would liked to take their son on their expeditions. Unfortunately, one of their expeditions led them to discover the hoard a great wyrm black dragon...and the dragon himself. After his parents were killed and Robert was about to be dragon food, a host of dragons came and killed the renegade and saved Robert. The dragons, representatives of a group of dragons know as the Council of Wyrms, promised to raise the boy and train him how to fight, in exchnage for his undying loyalty to the Council. He agreed, and became a powerful warrior. Over time, he discovered his bloodline was full of dragons, and his patrons helped him unlock the eldritch power in his veins. Eventually, he abandoned his former life, becoming Svent, the Fist of the Council.
Description: Dispite being human, Svent looks more like a half dragon than a human, thanks to his numerous grafts. His eyes are slitted, and his skin has a silver sheen. His hair is a flaring red.
Possessions: Svent has one possession: the Heart of the Council, a throbbingly powerful artifact given to him by his dragon patrons. It gives him tremendous physical and mental boosts to himself, making him faster, stronger, tougher, and wiser than most humans, putting him on par with some of the younger dragons. However, Svent has several draconic grafts, including buffeting wings, gleaming scales, and glaring eyes.
Age: 25
Height: 5' 6"
Weight: 154 lbs.
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Occupation: Assassin/Warrior/Bodyguard/Delegate/Messenger
Background: Svent (real name Robert Berkistan) was the son of a couple of explorers who would liked to take their son on their expeditions. Unfortunately, one of their expeditions led them to discover the hoard a great wyrm black dragon...and the dragon himself. After his parents were killed and Robert was about to be dragon food, a host of dragons came and killed the renegade and saved Robert. The dragons, representatives of a group of dragons know as the Council of Wyrms, promised to raise the boy and train him how to fight, in exchnage for his undying loyalty to the Council. He agreed, and became a powerful warrior. Over time, he discovered his bloodline was full of dragons, and his patrons helped him unlock the eldritch power in his veins. Eventually, he abandoned his former life, becoming Svent, the Fist of the Council.
Description: Dispite being human, Svent looks more like a half dragon than a human, thanks to his numerous grafts. His eyes are slitted, and his skin has a silver sheen. His hair is a flaring red.
Possessions: Svent has one possession: the Heart of the Council, a throbbingly powerful artifact given to him by his dragon patrons. It gives him tremendous physical and mental boosts to himself, making him faster, stronger, tougher, and wiser than most humans, putting him on par with some of the younger dragons. However, Svent has several draconic grafts, including buffeting wings, gleaming scales, and glaring eyes.
Syra Kavon (Questing)
Syra Kavon is a slim, bony elf, who dresses loosely in all black. Her personality is forcedly cheery; when she speaks, you know it is an elaborate act, though you aren't sure who she's trying to fool. Maybe herself.
Syra is a Shadowmancer, and a very special one at that. The direct blood descendant of the Shade Lord of the Plane of Shadow, Syra's talent for controlling darkness is surpassed only by her own father. Unfortunately, her power comes at a price. Sunlight is physically painful to her, and magical light is downright deadly. The light of a good person's soul can also burn Syra, and she finds herself unable to infiltrate the minds of the truly pure.
Syra's first fight was against Caben Duur, and an epic clash it was. Though the battle was long and bloody, in the end it was a draw. The Void could not consume Caben, and Syra had no blood for him to enslave. They declared a tie. Afterwards, Syra struck a friendship with Bartlemaeus, the aged scribe of the Arena. She now seeks to free his daughter of her demonic possesion.
Syra is often depressed and withdrawn. She despairs that her soul will never know good, and that she will never truly see the light that she yearns to know. Bartlemaeus claims he can aid her, but she entertains no hopes of his sucess. She has been burned far too often.
Syra is a Shadowmancer, and a very special one at that. The direct blood descendant of the Shade Lord of the Plane of Shadow, Syra's talent for controlling darkness is surpassed only by her own father. Unfortunately, her power comes at a price. Sunlight is physically painful to her, and magical light is downright deadly. The light of a good person's soul can also burn Syra, and she finds herself unable to infiltrate the minds of the truly pure.
Syra's first fight was against Caben Duur, and an epic clash it was. Though the battle was long and bloody, in the end it was a draw. The Void could not consume Caben, and Syra had no blood for him to enslave. They declared a tie. Afterwards, Syra struck a friendship with Bartlemaeus, the aged scribe of the Arena. She now seeks to free his daughter of her demonic possesion.
Syra is often depressed and withdrawn. She despairs that her soul will never know good, and that she will never truly see the light that she yearns to know. Bartlemaeus claims he can aid her, but she entertains no hopes of his sucess. She has been burned far too often.
My characters (NPC's essentially)
Sorcen Anenooata
Sorcen Anenooata- Ruler of Baator and a seperate universe within an emerald that was created for him under his orders. Son of Tiamat and Necros, grandson of Glasya and Grazz't, great grandson of Asmodeus and Pale Night.
SorcenPic
The Elven appearing chap in front is Sorcen's preferred humanoid form while the diabolic form in the back is his true devil form.
The Elven appearing chap in front is Sorcen's preferred humanoid form while the diabolic form in the back is his true devil form. Siveleth Arkorvithj, Freedom Fighter (1-0-0)
A shimmering speck appears in the air, widening and turning, shredding a rift in the planar fabric. An elf, tall for his kind, with shouder-length silver hair, piercing blue eyes, and a gleaming blue-silver shirt of chainmail steps through. He hefts what appears to be a pair of manacles sporting vicious-looking ethereal spikes and stares warily at his surroundings. His gaze comes to rest on his opponent.
Siveleth was enslaved by a hobgoblin tyrant at an early age (about 13) and labored in oppression for 86 years. He escaped with the help of his friend Aszilvendaxt, also a grey elf (an evoker) and is in the process of raising an army to free his nation. In this quest, he traveled to the dwarven kingdom of Grathnendul to enlist the help of the warpriest in residence, a favored soul named Denthereln. He fights with a weapon known as Whirlwind's Blood. Whirlwind's Blood appears to be a pair of worn manacles, broken at the ends, with two intact cuffs. When Siveleth is enraged (or just showing off), the chain sprouts shimmering, ephemeral, barbed spikes. which glow faintly blue (or not, at Siveleth's option).
Siveleth was enslaved by a hobgoblin tyrant at an early age (about 13) and labored in oppression for 86 years. He escaped with the help of his friend Aszilvendaxt, also a grey elf (an evoker) and is in the process of raising an army to free his nation. In this quest, he traveled to the dwarven kingdom of Grathnendul to enlist the help of the warpriest in residence, a favored soul named Denthereln. He fights with a weapon known as Whirlwind's Blood. Whirlwind's Blood appears to be a pair of worn manacles, broken at the ends, with two intact cuffs. When Siveleth is enraged (or just showing off), the chain sprouts shimmering, ephemeral, barbed spikes. which glow faintly blue (or not, at Siveleth's option).
Show
The skeletal servant of the judges who serves as event co-ordinator, summoner, and messenger.
The skeletal servant of the judges who serves as event co-ordinator, summoner, and messenger.
Aya Vampris
Aya Vampris - Wife of Sorcen, Queen of the Baatar, Queen of Evil Vampires, she looks like an angel but has vampric traits; currently sitting on her throne next to Sorcen in the Arena.
Katherizaltix Delaxitasiocohol
Katherizaltix Delaxitasiocohol, "Kate", her last name is pronounced Delahitashkol.
Celestial sunwyrm, cleric of Ra/master of radiance.
A bright beam of sunlight pierces the dark clouds conjured by Krono, the beam strikes hard against the dirt floor of the arena. As the dust clears, you begin to make out a brilliantly shining dragonoid shape. The assumed dragon shines brightly for a moment and the cloud of dust dissipates, revealing a shining golden dragon possessing eight legs and great golden wings that shine with the light of the sun. Upon closer inspection, you notice its face is not the usual skeletal appearance of other sunwyrms, replaced instead by facial features more akin to that of a beautiful elven woman mixed with that of a silver dragon's. She smiles happily at the judges, "I am Katherizaltix Delaxitasiocohol, I have come to compete in this grand arena and test myself against worthy foes, and perhaps to destroy some of this evil that is so abundant here." She bows low and shifts to the form of a beautiful elven woman with long golden hair and golden armor that will not be too revealing. She flashes a smile and walks to the Taverne Cycine."
Celestial sunwyrm, cleric of Ra/master of radiance.
A bright beam of sunlight pierces the dark clouds conjured by Krono, the beam strikes hard against the dirt floor of the arena. As the dust clears, you begin to make out a brilliantly shining dragonoid shape. The assumed dragon shines brightly for a moment and the cloud of dust dissipates, revealing a shining golden dragon possessing eight legs and great golden wings that shine with the light of the sun. Upon closer inspection, you notice its face is not the usual skeletal appearance of other sunwyrms, replaced instead by facial features more akin to that of a beautiful elven woman mixed with that of a silver dragon's. She smiles happily at the judges, "I am Katherizaltix Delaxitasiocohol, I have come to compete in this grand arena and test myself against worthy foes, and perhaps to destroy some of this evil that is so abundant here." She bows low and shifts to the form of a beautiful elven woman with long golden hair and golden armor that will not be too revealing. She flashes a smile and walks to the Taverne Cycine."
Dia Duit
A figure clad in what appears to be extremely dissimilar clothing (including a rather large overcoat, pants blotched in various shades of grey, and an extraordinarily bright shirt) appears, suddenly, without heralding noise or sound. The only thing particularly notable about his clothing, in fact, is his sword and scabbard, both being heavily bejeweled. He quickly moves through the crowds of people sorrounding the arena. Chatting with several creatures amiably, he never the less seems distinct and apart from the crowd. Several people with sharp noses give him curious looks, but soon turn back to their drinks/food/conversation/etc. Soon, he finds the boards with notices of the approaching matches, and finds his name. He quickly obtains an apparently alcoholic beverage, and with the crowd of people he has attracted, despite only being on the plane for a few minutes, he observes the current match.
Race: Human
Home: Nomadic Plane Roamer, typically found on non-extreme planes e.g. Astral, Mirror, Shadow, Materiel, Ethereal, etc.
Race: Human
Home: Nomadic Plane Roamer, typically found on non-extreme planes e.g. Astral, Mirror, Shadow, Materiel, Ethereal, etc.
Venti d'Sylph
Venti d'Sylph, elf sorcerer, has Sylph's Staff (a slim, ebony staff with fine elven script in silver all over the wood, it can be used to blow hostile magic back to the caster once or twice a day). Venti is accompanied by a cat familiar and a greater air elemental.
Venti is a short, slim elf. He has short, light brown hair, and midnight blue eyes. He wears a white linen shirt under a long indigo robe with a scattering of tiny white stars on it, and khaki pants with long, plain brown boots. In his left hand, he holds an narrow ebony staff. He walks with a smooth gait, and whenever he enters or exits a room, there is a clean, crisp breeze that accompanies him. His grey cat familiar is usually on his shoulder or at his side.
The Sylph family is a line of great elven sorcerers, who are known for their magic of the winds and stars. Their magic was granted them seven centuries ago, by a great wyrm dragon that Venti's great-grandfather managed to save from a terrible demon. Although the silver dragon died, she was thankful for the efforts of the elf, and gave him and his decendants the magic which they have been using for centuries to hold evil in check.
Personality: Venti is pretty relaxed guy. He isn't easily shocked or startled, and tends to stay calm in times of danger. However, there is one thing that never fails to freak him out: small spaces. Since his magic is naturally inclined to the open sky, he loses his calm embarrasingly fast in a tight spot, but never admits to it.
Venti arrived at the arena because of an oath he took: whenever someone with pure intentions says "Venti d'Sylph, there is a storm to calm", he is immediatly summoned to the speaker. This magic is bound to him, due to a terrible deed he was forced to do in his past. As recompense, he Wished this upon himself. Apparently, there is someone in the arena who whished for Venti's help, and he was compelled to answer the summons.
When Venti ended up in the arena, there was something strangely familiar about Sorcen...
(thanks for the OK, Sorcen)
Venti d'Sylph, elf sorcerer, has Sylph's Staff (a slim, ebony staff with fine elven script in silver all over the wood, it can be used to blow hostile magic back to the caster once or twice a day). Venti is accompanied by a cat familiar and a greater air elemental.
Venti is a short, slim elf. He has short, light brown hair, and midnight blue eyes. He wears a white linen shirt under a long indigo robe with a scattering of tiny white stars on it, and khaki pants with long, plain brown boots. In his left hand, he holds an narrow ebony staff. He walks with a smooth gait, and whenever he enters or exits a room, there is a clean, crisp breeze that accompanies him. His grey cat familiar is usually on his shoulder or at his side.
The Sylph family is a line of great elven sorcerers, who are known for their magic of the winds and stars. Their magic was granted them seven centuries ago, by a great wyrm dragon that Venti's great-grandfather managed to save from a terrible demon. Although the silver dragon died, she was thankful for the efforts of the elf, and gave him and his decendants the magic which they have been using for centuries to hold evil in check.
Personality: Venti is pretty relaxed guy. He isn't easily shocked or startled, and tends to stay calm in times of danger. However, there is one thing that never fails to freak him out: small spaces. Since his magic is naturally inclined to the open sky, he loses his calm embarrasingly fast in a tight spot, but never admits to it.
Venti arrived at the arena because of an oath he took: whenever someone with pure intentions says "Venti d'Sylph, there is a storm to calm", he is immediatly summoned to the speaker. This magic is bound to him, due to a terrible deed he was forced to do in his past. As recompense, he Wished this upon himself. Apparently, there is someone in the arena who whished for Venti's help, and he was compelled to answer the summons.
When Venti ended up in the arena, there was something strangely familiar about Sorcen...
(thanks for the OK, Sorcen)
Lafali Lathi (2-0-0)
Name: Lafali Lathi, Keeper of the Twelth Gate, Lord of the Moon
Alignment: Lawful Good
Race: Oriental Gold Dragon
Classes: Keeper of the Moon, Daiyoukai Warlord
Looks: A tall daiyoukai. He is around 6'6", wearing a flowing golden kimono. Wrapped around his waist is a sash of silk, shaded like the twilight sky. In the sash resides his dia-sho. His hair is silver and his eyes are sky blue. Across his right cheek is a marking, shape of a golden cresent moon. His right hand is wrapped in white bandages. The moni he is wearing is that of an golden dragon across a black cloud.
Equipment: None, when Syra destoryed Endless Night, the other two was destoryed as well.
Abilities: Master of the Rilynnathem school of combat, also very good at elemental magic and master in mist magic.
Name: Lafali Lathi, Keeper of the Twelth Gate, Lord of the Moon
Alignment: Lawful Good
Race: Oriental Gold Dragon
Classes: Keeper of the Moon, Daiyoukai Warlord
Looks: A tall daiyoukai. He is around 6'6", wearing a flowing golden kimono. Wrapped around his waist is a sash of silk, shaded like the twilight sky. In the sash resides his dia-sho. His hair is silver and his eyes are sky blue. Across his right cheek is a marking, shape of a golden cresent moon. His right hand is wrapped in white bandages. The moni he is wearing is that of an golden dragon across a black cloud.
Equipment: None, when Syra destoryed Endless Night, the other two was destoryed as well.
Abilities: Master of the Rilynnathem school of combat, also very good at elemental magic and master in mist magic.
Gjuld Granitehewer
I am Gjuld, son of Vyodir, son of Jaldi, son of Gunnvor, who scattered the six pieces of the Cursed Crown.
Name: Gjuld Granitehewer
Race: Deep Dwarf (note, not Duergar; deep dwarves are simply dwarves with better magic resistance, better darkvision, and slight sunlight sensitivity. They're in the MM.)
Class: Gestalt Cleric 16/Fighter 7-Dwarven Defender 9
Alignment: Lawful Good
Religion: Moradin
Origin: Underdark Settlement of Rolvinswall, Toril
Description: Gjuld is a middle-aged, muscular dwarf with a fiery red beard and blue eyes. He goes about even his mundane daily business (in Baator, at least) dressed in shining mithril plate armor and carrying a huge mithril tower shield displaying Moradin's hammer-and-anvil symbol.
Powers: Gjuld is an extremely strong, sturdy, and skilled melee combatant, focusing on power and endurance over finesse and speed; his natural hardiness and his magical armor and shield ward off blows while he strikes at foes with his keen, spell-storing silver warax. Furthermore, he has access to powerful divine magic, which he generally uses to enhance his already formidable hand-to-hand ability, as well as granting healing and a bit of ranged capability.
Character: Gjuld is a virtuous and mighty, if sometimes gruff, holy warrior, a steadfast champion of his people and his faith. On his homeworld, Gjuld has fought in a half-dozen wars, slain more monsters than he can recall, and righted hundreds of wrongs.
Weaknesses: Though a more-than-capable warrior, Gjuld is overly reliant on his magic, and often has trouble facing powerful opponents when denied it. In particular, his mobility suffers greatly without spells such as wind walk to supplement it. Psychologically, Gjuld's greatest weakness is pride; he has a justifiably high opinion of his martial prowess, and more ominously, he is utterly convinced of his own goodness and the incorruptibility of his spirit.
History:
[post=11674588]First appearance[/post]
I am Gjuld, son of Vyodir, son of Jaldi, son of Gunnvor, who scattered the six pieces of the Cursed Crown.
Name: Gjuld Granitehewer
Race: Deep Dwarf (note, not Duergar; deep dwarves are simply dwarves with better magic resistance, better darkvision, and slight sunlight sensitivity. They're in the MM.)
Class: Gestalt Cleric 16/Fighter 7-Dwarven Defender 9
Alignment: Lawful Good
Religion: Moradin
Origin: Underdark Settlement of Rolvinswall, Toril
Description: Gjuld is a middle-aged, muscular dwarf with a fiery red beard and blue eyes. He goes about even his mundane daily business (in Baator, at least) dressed in shining mithril plate armor and carrying a huge mithril tower shield displaying Moradin's hammer-and-anvil symbol.
Powers: Gjuld is an extremely strong, sturdy, and skilled melee combatant, focusing on power and endurance over finesse and speed; his natural hardiness and his magical armor and shield ward off blows while he strikes at foes with his keen, spell-storing silver warax. Furthermore, he has access to powerful divine magic, which he generally uses to enhance his already formidable hand-to-hand ability, as well as granting healing and a bit of ranged capability.
Character: Gjuld is a virtuous and mighty, if sometimes gruff, holy warrior, a steadfast champion of his people and his faith. On his homeworld, Gjuld has fought in a half-dozen wars, slain more monsters than he can recall, and righted hundreds of wrongs.
Weaknesses: Though a more-than-capable warrior, Gjuld is overly reliant on his magic, and often has trouble facing powerful opponents when denied it. In particular, his mobility suffers greatly without spells such as wind walk to supplement it. Psychologically, Gjuld's greatest weakness is pride; he has a justifiably high opinion of his martial prowess, and more ominously, he is utterly convinced of his own goodness and the incorruptibility of his spirit.
History:
[post=11674588]First appearance[/post]
Orshallen, Slave of Hell
Many men see little more than a tall, lanky man garbed in neat, if worn, black and green - pale-skinned and fair-haired, and not quite ugly but certainly little better than forgettable in appearance. Those with keen eyesight might notice a disturbing dissymmetry about the man; his body is vaguely angular and slightly too tall for his girth; and, though there seems to be no identifiable point of change, his movements rarely end quite where they physically ought to have, as if he were being viewed through water or reflected in a warped mirror.
Those lucky few whose sight is enhanced with magic are treated to a more disturbing sight still. His face (and indeed, his entire body) is covered with intricate curse-spells in black ink - some in the common languages of magic, more still in the Infernal Tongue, and some few in the Dark Speech - a language of such malice that to merely speak it aloud spells death for the untrained.
And then, of course, there are those who never see him coming at all.
Orshallen's long history is unrecorded; he is the only person alive who knows the full tale. It is a story of revenge, hatred, and an endless flight that has led across the planes, filled with countless ambushes, counter-ambushes, traps, treachery, and skin-of-the-teeth escapes. Once a slave of Orcus, Orshallen betrayed both his former master and the demon prince's Abyssal foes. Hunted by the demons of the Abyss, these days Orshallen offers his services to the Lords of the Nine - and to most anyone else, if they can afford his price.
For centuries, The Ethereal Plane has afforded Orshallen a safe haven to escape his hunters, and these days he can slip in and out of it as easily as breathing. Safe in the mists of Potentiality, Orshallen wrapped himself in stolen magic and curses and waged a shadow war of his own against Orcus's minions. Yet, without aid, a mere mortal cannot hope to contend with the power of a primal Ideal of evil, a Prince of the limitless Abyss. So it was that Orshallen turned to Hell.
And now for a slightly more formal writeup:
Name: Orshallen
Race: Human... mostly.
Class: Maleficent26/Phantasmal Harrier20 - at least, in the only incarnation I have written up. The levels may vary based on the what is needed roleplay-wise. Both are homebrewed classes; the Maleficent is a specialist in of curses and the Phantasmal Harrier is pretty much what it sounds like :P
Alignment: Neutral Evil.
Origin: Ex-cultist of Orcus from an unknown Prime Material world.
Powers: Orshallen is extremely (indeed supernaturally) quick and elusive, and quite strong for a human, though not exeptionally so compared to the more fearsome monsters out there. He is wrapped in curses both offensive and defensive, some of which serve to ruin blows or shots aimed at him while others attack those who touch or wound him. He can also pronounce more specific curses, though this takes effort and a certain expenditure of power. He has significant though very specialized knowledge of spells, and his time in the Ethereal has wrought many physical changes upon him. He possesses the ability to become incorporeal at will (though he cannot maintain the state for long) and can pass that ability on to his weapons, bypassing physical armor or shields. Perhaps more frustrating for a melee opponent, Orshallen often doesn't move the way he ought to; Orshallen may well charge a foe from the front and continue to move in a straight line, only to inexplicably wind up attacking them from the side.
In his semi-real state, Orshallen is practically impossible to target with divinations and information-gathering spells (which tend to act as if there were nothing at all present), and possesses a lesser resistance to other forms of magic similar to that enjoyed by all incorporeal creatures.
Character: Superficially polite, Orshallen loathes pretty much everybody. Orshallen's spite and contempt goes far deeper than a simple dislike of people, and the essential power of his curses stems from his spite.
Weaknesses: Though he can cast a number of spells, Orshallen knows mainly curses, necromancies and a number of personal protection spells. Spitting fireballs out of his pinky is not his specialty, and besides his curses he possesses little overt offensive magic. Orshallen also relies heavily on maneuverability when fighting another warrior. Striking hard and fading away, then coming in again from a different direction is his style. Though it's difficult to do to a man who can pass through solid stone at will, restricting Orshallen's movement and forcing him to slug it out will put a serious crimp in his style.
Possessions: Orshallen's most valuable possession is his flail, Lifemawn. Made of of blackened cold iron, Lifemawn carries strong basic enchantments to aid in accuracy and destructive power, as well as more sinister enhancements.
Orshallen's 'home away from home' is a private demiplane hidden in the Deep Ethereal Plane, which he uses as an emergency hideout and storehouse. It contains many items and reagents of use in black magic. The key for entry is possession of Lifemawn, or physical contact with the wielder.
Those lucky few whose sight is enhanced with magic are treated to a more disturbing sight still. His face (and indeed, his entire body) is covered with intricate curse-spells in black ink - some in the common languages of magic, more still in the Infernal Tongue, and some few in the Dark Speech - a language of such malice that to merely speak it aloud spells death for the untrained.
And then, of course, there are those who never see him coming at all.
Orshallen's long history is unrecorded; he is the only person alive who knows the full tale. It is a story of revenge, hatred, and an endless flight that has led across the planes, filled with countless ambushes, counter-ambushes, traps, treachery, and skin-of-the-teeth escapes. Once a slave of Orcus, Orshallen betrayed both his former master and the demon prince's Abyssal foes. Hunted by the demons of the Abyss, these days Orshallen offers his services to the Lords of the Nine - and to most anyone else, if they can afford his price.
For centuries, The Ethereal Plane has afforded Orshallen a safe haven to escape his hunters, and these days he can slip in and out of it as easily as breathing. Safe in the mists of Potentiality, Orshallen wrapped himself in stolen magic and curses and waged a shadow war of his own against Orcus's minions. Yet, without aid, a mere mortal cannot hope to contend with the power of a primal Ideal of evil, a Prince of the limitless Abyss. So it was that Orshallen turned to Hell.
And now for a slightly more formal writeup:
Name: Orshallen
Race: Human... mostly.
Class: Maleficent26/Phantasmal Harrier20 - at least, in the only incarnation I have written up. The levels may vary based on the what is needed roleplay-wise. Both are homebrewed classes; the Maleficent is a specialist in of curses and the Phantasmal Harrier is pretty much what it sounds like :P
Alignment: Neutral Evil.
Origin: Ex-cultist of Orcus from an unknown Prime Material world.
Powers: Orshallen is extremely (indeed supernaturally) quick and elusive, and quite strong for a human, though not exeptionally so compared to the more fearsome monsters out there. He is wrapped in curses both offensive and defensive, some of which serve to ruin blows or shots aimed at him while others attack those who touch or wound him. He can also pronounce more specific curses, though this takes effort and a certain expenditure of power. He has significant though very specialized knowledge of spells, and his time in the Ethereal has wrought many physical changes upon him. He possesses the ability to become incorporeal at will (though he cannot maintain the state for long) and can pass that ability on to his weapons, bypassing physical armor or shields. Perhaps more frustrating for a melee opponent, Orshallen often doesn't move the way he ought to; Orshallen may well charge a foe from the front and continue to move in a straight line, only to inexplicably wind up attacking them from the side.
In his semi-real state, Orshallen is practically impossible to target with divinations and information-gathering spells (which tend to act as if there were nothing at all present), and possesses a lesser resistance to other forms of magic similar to that enjoyed by all incorporeal creatures.
Character: Superficially polite, Orshallen loathes pretty much everybody. Orshallen's spite and contempt goes far deeper than a simple dislike of people, and the essential power of his curses stems from his spite.
Weaknesses: Though he can cast a number of spells, Orshallen knows mainly curses, necromancies and a number of personal protection spells. Spitting fireballs out of his pinky is not his specialty, and besides his curses he possesses little overt offensive magic. Orshallen also relies heavily on maneuverability when fighting another warrior. Striking hard and fading away, then coming in again from a different direction is his style. Though it's difficult to do to a man who can pass through solid stone at will, restricting Orshallen's movement and forcing him to slug it out will put a serious crimp in his style.
Possessions: Orshallen's most valuable possession is his flail, Lifemawn. Made of of blackened cold iron, Lifemawn carries strong basic enchantments to aid in accuracy and destructive power, as well as more sinister enhancements.
Orshallen's 'home away from home' is a private demiplane hidden in the Deep Ethereal Plane, which he uses as an emergency hideout and storehouse. It contains many items and reagents of use in black magic. The key for entry is possession of Lifemawn, or physical contact with the wielder.
I think this as I look through the great tome like a catalog. Hmm, what new treasure should I add to my hoard? Yes, for many years I have played the Green Mage. In the last ten years on a world of rifts, chaos, and constant war, I constructed the Green Dragon Inn in the Grand City of Esh. Esh has now become ash due to a series of Dragon versus Balor wars with the Elven nation eventually rising to power in the South.
I designed the Inn particulary for all giants to come and have a drink and gamble. The adamantine tables cost more than most planes. My character has OCD and does not like things broken. The only broken thing has been the poor innkeeper formerly known as Bostick the XII, he has been resurrected 10 times. The inn can be very dangerous no matter how much I protect him.
Attached to the Inn stood my home with its laboraties and libraries. My research, war, and making new magical items and one artifact while stealing a powerful artifact over 15 years of real time play and endless hours of gameplay led me to be an innkeeper and researcher. Even though, I had been a green dragon for longer than I can remember, I really liked people and shaping their lives for my intents. Eventually, the other players got to close to the fact that I had stolen the Planar Cornerstone and was a green dragon of incredible wealth. In a classic spell, I made years ago after watching it be used by a wizard I was trying to kill and pillage, I sunk my Inn, my home, and my lair deep into the bowels of Time. The chaos of the region had also become particulary unstable. Using the Planar Cornerstone,I have my own dimension immune to most intrusions. However I figure that some ingenious gnome or meddling adventurers will find it and kill me, bargain with me, or I will send them packing after a handsome randsom.
The character sheet reads Great Wyrm Green Dragon, Sorceror 36, and Innkeeper. In today's language, I performed as a power broker between powerful worlds, kingdoms and individuals. I believe a form of law should direct circumstances in order to maintain stability. In my long life, I have seen too many kingdoms destroyed by inept rulers, prejudiced elves, and greedy wizards. If anyone wants more stats or info just email. My greatest possessions that I will list are a golden dragon orb, robes of immunity, the Sorceror Sword, and the Planar Cornerstone.
I must admit that I never expected to be an innkeeper before retiring this character it just seemed so cliche. However, I had so much fun playing an innkeeper that I must say it left a good taste of elven wine and blood in my mouth. Yeah, I consider elves a worse nuisance than pixies. At least pixies can have fun.
Loex
Loex, thri-kreen of legend, cleric/verminlord, 4 vicious vampiric wounding merciful daggers, light fortification breastplate, lenses of ebon eyes (see perfectly in any darkness), a fiendish monstrous scorpion (further powered by Loex’ deity), Loex can turn into a big vermin creature, combining features from spiders, scorpions, dragonflies, and mantises.
Loex was born, or rather hatched in the heart of the desert Karanach. He wanted more than the peaceful and happy life of the thri-kreens there, he wanted power, he wanted to be a god. He made sure to gain as much popularity in his tribe as he could, then he staged an accident that killed the chieftain and his heir. Not surprisingly he was chosen as the new chieftain, and he led his tribe for a few years. Then he looked for more power, and turned to the world outside. He convinced as many thri-kreen as possible to follow his cause in an army, and in addition he gathered as many creatures of the desert and the surrounding mountains under his banner. He then took it to war and waged war upon the outside world for years. He was slain eventually though, in a try to take the high elven capital. But he had gathered too much power to die a natural death. Instead his soul traveled into the void, the space between the planes. Here he waited for many long years. Then one day a thri-kreen woman turned pregnant, with a kid that had no soul, or so it looked. Loex gripped the chance and entered the embryo. But he was wrong, the soul was not missing it was just delayed. So as the true soul entered the embryo too, the embryo was split too. Unfortunately for Loex, the souls were fragmented in the two bodies. Then the mother laid her egg, but shortly after the clan was attacked and slaughtered by a blue dragon that had run amok. The dragon did not see one of the Loex touched eggs, so it survived. The destruction had a new effect on the souls though. Most of Loex’ soul in the surviving embryo was pushed away, and gathered with the soul fragments of the killed Loex touched. The bodiless fragment had only little memory if its former self and it had forgotten its name. The living Thri-kreen was mostly a normal young thri-kreen by soul, but the leftover fragments of Loex soul had granted it a connection to the other soul fragment, who now called itself the unnamed one. It also granted the living the memory of being given the name Loex, and a great empowerment, a shadow of the old Loex’ power. The young Loex had no parents, and had to do alone. It had died were it not for the power of the soul fragment in it, and the connection to the unnamed one. The unnamed one thought it many of the things needed to survive in the desert, things that were still left in its shattered memory. It also told Loex that it was a god, and should be worshipped. The connection between Loex and the unnamed one was that powerful that despite not being a god it could grant Loex clerical spells. Loex traveled the deserts alone for years, gaining combat experience, and being taught many things. As he had had all social contact with the unnamed one, he was a zealous, fanatic of his faith. In the end, the unnamed one wanted power, and he sent Loex to the realms of men. Here he walked for long, traveling the countryside and trying to gain followers. He eventually succeeded in gathering some, and soon a small caravan had gathered. Loex trained and tutored his followers, and he brought them to be as fanatic as himself. Years passed, and Loex gathered a small priesthood, most gathered in a caravan under the management of Loex. The cult was a vile one indeed, featuring human sacrifices, contact to and bargaining with devils and demons, and using deception and magic to bind new followers until they were brainwashed. One of their favorite tactics were to send a cultist to a village and put some disease source in there, then when the caravan itself arrived a few days later, many people would be struck with the disease, then the priesthood would cure them and preach of the unnamed one as their savior. The number of worshippers finally made the unnamed one a true god, and he chose disease, verminkind and pain as his portfolio.
Loex was born, or rather hatched in the heart of the desert Karanach. He wanted more than the peaceful and happy life of the thri-kreens there, he wanted power, he wanted to be a god. He made sure to gain as much popularity in his tribe as he could, then he staged an accident that killed the chieftain and his heir. Not surprisingly he was chosen as the new chieftain, and he led his tribe for a few years. Then he looked for more power, and turned to the world outside. He convinced as many thri-kreen as possible to follow his cause in an army, and in addition he gathered as many creatures of the desert and the surrounding mountains under his banner. He then took it to war and waged war upon the outside world for years. He was slain eventually though, in a try to take the high elven capital. But he had gathered too much power to die a natural death. Instead his soul traveled into the void, the space between the planes. Here he waited for many long years. Then one day a thri-kreen woman turned pregnant, with a kid that had no soul, or so it looked. Loex gripped the chance and entered the embryo. But he was wrong, the soul was not missing it was just delayed. So as the true soul entered the embryo too, the embryo was split too. Unfortunately for Loex, the souls were fragmented in the two bodies. Then the mother laid her egg, but shortly after the clan was attacked and slaughtered by a blue dragon that had run amok. The dragon did not see one of the Loex touched eggs, so it survived. The destruction had a new effect on the souls though. Most of Loex’ soul in the surviving embryo was pushed away, and gathered with the soul fragments of the killed Loex touched. The bodiless fragment had only little memory if its former self and it had forgotten its name. The living Thri-kreen was mostly a normal young thri-kreen by soul, but the leftover fragments of Loex soul had granted it a connection to the other soul fragment, who now called itself the unnamed one. It also granted the living the memory of being given the name Loex, and a great empowerment, a shadow of the old Loex’ power. The young Loex had no parents, and had to do alone. It had died were it not for the power of the soul fragment in it, and the connection to the unnamed one. The unnamed one thought it many of the things needed to survive in the desert, things that were still left in its shattered memory. It also told Loex that it was a god, and should be worshipped. The connection between Loex and the unnamed one was that powerful that despite not being a god it could grant Loex clerical spells. Loex traveled the deserts alone for years, gaining combat experience, and being taught many things. As he had had all social contact with the unnamed one, he was a zealous, fanatic of his faith. In the end, the unnamed one wanted power, and he sent Loex to the realms of men. Here he walked for long, traveling the countryside and trying to gain followers. He eventually succeeded in gathering some, and soon a small caravan had gathered. Loex trained and tutored his followers, and he brought them to be as fanatic as himself. Years passed, and Loex gathered a small priesthood, most gathered in a caravan under the management of Loex. The cult was a vile one indeed, featuring human sacrifices, contact to and bargaining with devils and demons, and using deception and magic to bind new followers until they were brainwashed. One of their favorite tactics were to send a cultist to a village and put some disease source in there, then when the caravan itself arrived a few days later, many people would be struck with the disease, then the priesthood would cure them and preach of the unnamed one as their savior. The number of worshippers finally made the unnamed one a true god, and he chose disease, verminkind and pain as his portfolio.
History
Xarallon was a Mishtai fore now is no longer one.
Mishtai was a race not unlike lizardfolk, created in the image of their god, a divine purple dragon, whose goal was to achieve perfection of form. The Mishtai used the souls of other, the living, the dead, and those who have yet to be born, to gain the perfection of form. By the strength of many souls and the draconic heritage, they came close to perfection form. But before it was done, the entire race was eliminated by powerful dragonslayers.
Their god deceased as all, but one of his worshippers died. The god was a crossbreed between a great wyrm red dragon and a great wyrm blue dragon. One egg was layed, and the blue dragon mother died laying the egg. The red dragon father raised the crossbreed as a human raises his son. This was unlike any dragon, and when the twilight was to begin for the red dragon, he sacrificed him self for his son, which had reached great wyrm age. Throughout his life the purple dragon has learned to weild power of the souls from a incarnum dragon. With this knowledge and souls of two great wyrm dragons he shaped from the souls of his parents argumentations to his body. In addition he grafted adamantine and mithril to his body. Near perfection he needed more and he slew other dragons and grafted the corpse onto his body and made soulmeld from theirs souls. Yet perfect, he desired more, he wanted to become a god. He created a race to worship him. He gained divinity from his newly created race, and he tought them to seek perfection of form.
As the only left of his kin, Xarallon wandered beyond the borders of his country. Eventually he learned to regain the power of his lost kin. Now he wields the power from their souls, as he shape them into physical form to aid him in revenge and conquest for power. With the souls of an entire race he managed to let loose their god from its astral grave, though it was incapable of using its powers as it now existed outside existence itself. With the resurrection of his god, he summoned it to further enhance his powers. With the combined powers of an entire race and their god, Xarallon traveled the world of mortals to gain followers so he would rise a deity. But first he had to be perfect. His first follower and letter the first cultist was Munchlord. The reason why Xarallon allowed a non-draconic creature was because Munchlord was easily convinced to the idea of perfection of form, and he was able to greatly enhance Xaralons power by grafting magic rune into his scales. The runes were glowing blue and red colored mithral. These were not the only graft Munchlord made for Xarallon, Munchlord grafted adamantine into his jaw, talons, horns, and claws. With these futher increases in power he began the Cult of the Purple Dragon. He has yet to become perfect and rise to divinity, fore the Mishtai race endured as two lesser races, Rilkan and Skarn. He needs their soul as they contain fragment of the original Mishtai race. But Xarallon is unawere of the two race as he lived beyond the boundaries of normal Mishtai life by more then hundreds times it, and thereby became oblivious to the fact that they exist.
Mishtai was a race not unlike lizardfolk, created in the image of their god, a divine purple dragon, whose goal was to achieve perfection of form. The Mishtai used the souls of other, the living, the dead, and those who have yet to be born, to gain the perfection of form. By the strength of many souls and the draconic heritage, they came close to perfection form. But before it was done, the entire race was eliminated by powerful dragonslayers.
Their god deceased as all, but one of his worshippers died. The god was a crossbreed between a great wyrm red dragon and a great wyrm blue dragon. One egg was layed, and the blue dragon mother died laying the egg. The red dragon father raised the crossbreed as a human raises his son. This was unlike any dragon, and when the twilight was to begin for the red dragon, he sacrificed him self for his son, which had reached great wyrm age. Throughout his life the purple dragon has learned to weild power of the souls from a incarnum dragon. With this knowledge and souls of two great wyrm dragons he shaped from the souls of his parents argumentations to his body. In addition he grafted adamantine and mithril to his body. Near perfection he needed more and he slew other dragons and grafted the corpse onto his body and made soulmeld from theirs souls. Yet perfect, he desired more, he wanted to become a god. He created a race to worship him. He gained divinity from his newly created race, and he tought them to seek perfection of form.
As the only left of his kin, Xarallon wandered beyond the borders of his country. Eventually he learned to regain the power of his lost kin. Now he wields the power from their souls, as he shape them into physical form to aid him in revenge and conquest for power. With the souls of an entire race he managed to let loose their god from its astral grave, though it was incapable of using its powers as it now existed outside existence itself. With the resurrection of his god, he summoned it to further enhance his powers. With the combined powers of an entire race and their god, Xarallon traveled the world of mortals to gain followers so he would rise a deity. But first he had to be perfect. His first follower and letter the first cultist was Munchlord. The reason why Xarallon allowed a non-draconic creature was because Munchlord was easily convinced to the idea of perfection of form, and he was able to greatly enhance Xaralons power by grafting magic rune into his scales. The runes were glowing blue and red colored mithral. These were not the only graft Munchlord made for Xarallon, Munchlord grafted adamantine into his jaw, talons, horns, and claws. With these futher increases in power he began the Cult of the Purple Dragon. He has yet to become perfect and rise to divinity, fore the Mishtai race endured as two lesser races, Rilkan and Skarn. He needs their soul as they contain fragment of the original Mishtai race. But Xarallon is unawere of the two race as he lived beyond the boundaries of normal Mishtai life by more then hundreds times it, and thereby became oblivious to the fact that they exist.
kirstine
Kristine, shadow half-fey elf, cleric/psion, shadowstaff (empower spells with evil or darkness descriptor), greater fortification chain shirt, circlet of flying, ring of the gate, lenses of ebon eyes, shadow entropic advanced dire wolf, vengeful shadows (conjure up orbs of dark energy that deal negative energy damage to attacker)
Kristine was born on the plane of shadow. She lived most of her young life there in peace, but one day when she was 85 years old, crusaders of Pelor attacked her home town. They had set out to slay “the vile spawn of darkness” that inhabited the plane of shadow. Her mother was killed in the raid, but Kirsten herself managed to escape. She made a pact with Darrash, the god of darkness and dark thoughts. She gained power, and in return she served him. She trained for years, before one day she was ready. She attacked the pelorites who had raided her home town. She slew them to the last man. Finally with her revenge acquired, she sought new things to do, new goals to gain. She travelled the planes for long, looking for something to aim for. She met Dragor who was setting out for the battle royal at Sorcen’s baator. She decided to follow him, if not for anything else, then at least to watch some of the battles.
Kristine is a creature of great beauty. She has long black hair, reaching all the way down to the upper part of her legs. Her eyes are dark brown. Her skin is pale though not extremely so, for a person from the plane of shadow she’s actually considered having a rather dark skin tone. She wears white dress when not going in for combat. When she is prepared for battle, she wears a magical chain shirt with black leather on the exterior. The leather is emblazoned with the mark of Darrash.
Kristine is generally nice around people who have not wronged her. Those who wrong her though should not expect any mercy.
Kristine was born on the plane of shadow. She lived most of her young life there in peace, but one day when she was 85 years old, crusaders of Pelor attacked her home town. They had set out to slay “the vile spawn of darkness” that inhabited the plane of shadow. Her mother was killed in the raid, but Kirsten herself managed to escape. She made a pact with Darrash, the god of darkness and dark thoughts. She gained power, and in return she served him. She trained for years, before one day she was ready. She attacked the pelorites who had raided her home town. She slew them to the last man. Finally with her revenge acquired, she sought new things to do, new goals to gain. She travelled the planes for long, looking for something to aim for. She met Dragor who was setting out for the battle royal at Sorcen’s baator. She decided to follow him, if not for anything else, then at least to watch some of the battles.
Kristine is a creature of great beauty. She has long black hair, reaching all the way down to the upper part of her legs. Her eyes are dark brown. Her skin is pale though not extremely so, for a person from the plane of shadow she’s actually considered having a rather dark skin tone. She wears white dress when not going in for combat. When she is prepared for battle, she wears a magical chain shirt with black leather on the exterior. The leather is emblazoned with the mark of Darrash.
Kristine is generally nice around people who have not wronged her. Those who wrong her though should not expect any mercy.
The being which became known as "The Wandering Plague" lived a life full of seemingly happenstance occurences constantly changing his nature. His first memories come during his awakening ceremony. A group of evil druids had been attempting to force a Silver Dragon to become a lycanthrope under their control. Unfortunately for the druids, the silver dragon had slipped their mind control spells. As the last stages of the ritual began the dragon lashed out with tooth, claw, breath, and magic at the druids, killing most of them within seconds. The carefully raised magickal energy backlashed and splintered into its hundreds of component spells, including several awaken animal spells. Several of these awaken animal spells hit not only the spider pets of the druids, but also the vermin in the room. As the vermin clustered with other of their kind, the emanations from those previously awakened was absorbed into the smaller animals. Quickly the animals were bonded together into an awakened, telepathic, and close bonded swarm. Created from blood, they soon took over the remains of the druidic order, building, slaughtering its remaining inhabitants and absorbing the remnants of their intellect. As its powers grew, the entity came under the guidance of a powerful fiend. In return for the swarms aid in its endeavors on the materiel plane, the fiend lent its powers and knowlege to the growing swarm. With each new member, not only did the swarm grow in strength and size, but also in intellect. Within months of creating its faustian pact, the swarm had learned all the fiend could teach, and slowly tore the poor demon to pieces. As the demon was dismembered, the instects found a small tumor living inside of the devil. Using their now great magical prowess, the swarm divined that the cancer had in fact, been growing slowly inside of the demon for years, slowly taking over its body and mind in hopes of ruling a great slice of hell. Weaving a net of magic around the small piece of flesh, the swarm kept it alive for months, until it encountered another cancer mage. After having members of the swarm observe him for months, the swarm came to him in the guise of a poor sorceror, willing to go to any extreme to gain power. The cancer mage apprenticed the swarm, hoping only to have another hand, and a way to continue his arts. By the time the older mage died (of "natural" causes), the Swarm had taken on the name "The Wandering Plague" and grown to have a tight, symbiotic relationship with its own cancer, now absorbed into each member of the swarm. The Wandering Plague took to, imaginatively, wandering, searching for the reason for its existence, the meaning of its life. It killed any who knew of the secret order of druids which had inadvertently created it, sometimes destroying entire cities to do so, with no remorse. One day The Wandering Plague met with a man who seemed to know more than was possible about the order of druids. He quickly initiated a magical duel, only to be defeated at the hands of the dragon who had been the subject of the druids experiment. The druids had unknowingly not just captured a dragon in the prime of its life, but in fact, had "captured" Bahumet himself. Bahumet speedily defeated the parts of the swarm gathered around him, and subdued its malicious intelligence. The mighty dragon god soon discovered the origin and story of The Wandering Plague. He convinced the swarm of the errors in his ways the only way possible, showing him what life with the friends and family that had been denied the swarm was like. The Wandering Plague repented its former evil ways, but continues to wander. However, instead of pursuing knowlege of his origin, the wanderer now carries the will of Bahumet from Good Dragon to Good Dragon, and fights the wills of Tiamat wherever he may. He often uses the same powers gained as a cancer mage to destroy the evil cities of Tiamats followers, or to cure the life threatening illness of a poor human.
Hestaby is the kind of mad genius that comes around once in a century. Not content with the slow accumulation of power that comes naturally as a dragon ages, Hestaby has used a unique brand of centuries-ahead-of-her-time science, bleeding-edge construct enchantment theory, her own naturally-occurring dragon magic, and a healthy dollop of her own special brand of near-madness to churn out a seemingly endless stream of bizzare magical artifacts that dragons centuries her senior have a difficult time understanding.
There follows an incomplete list of her creations. Hestaby is always tinkering, and their capabilities are somewhat fluid, so I will content myself with a qualitative rather than quantintative description of each one.
DragonShell rideable construct series
DragonShells are an innovative kind of magical construct which are inert by themselves, but tremendously agument the capabilities of a dragon that decides to pilot them. Mechanically, they are best represented with the d20 Future mecha rules.
DragonShell I: The prototype for the series, the DragonShell I is a skeletal mithral-and-darkwood construction about the size of an elephant, though lower. Merely built for proof of concept, the DragonShell I has minimal agumentative capabilities.
DragonShell II: The testbed for a number of auxiliary subsystems found on larger DragonShells, the DragonShell II is approximately the size of the Mark I, but much more solidly constructed, with a main body of bronzewood and mithral built around an adamantine armature. Its defensive systems include an inbuilt magical resistance to all elements, moderate spell resistance (stronger around the pilot to prevent them from being directly targeted by baleful effects), thin plates of astral driftmetal to defend the pilot from incorporeal attack, and standard magical durability enhancement. Its offensive systems include magical enhancements to the built-in claws and a 'breath weapon' of magical force sufficient to cave in a castle wall.
It also features magical sensors that magically sharpen Hestaby's senses as well as providing equivilents to Detect Magic, Detect Scrying, and See Invisibility, .
An array of Decanters of Endless Water built into numerous places on the construct's body provide thrust for an emergency maneuvering system.
DragonShell IIp: The IIp approximately duplicates the abilities of the Mark II, but by psionic rather than magical means. It is marginally weaker than the Mark II in all respects. It has a much more striking appearence, with psionically reinforced crystal tubing throughout the entire superstructure delivering a constant load of emulsified crystals in charged ectoplasm.
A powerful Antimagic Field surrounds it to a distance of about 60 feet.
DragonShell IIf: The IIf is a much-lightened version of the Mark II, discarding the adamantine skeleton and bronzewood bracing for mithral and darkwood respectively. It is much more physically frail, but the decreased weight in conjunction with a greater number of Decanters Of Endless Water allow it true flight.
DragonShell III: This is much larger and much more complex than any of the preceding models. It is constructed almost entirely of mithral and adamantine, with occasional obdurium reinforcements at critical points. It approaches twenty feet long and two hundred tons.
Its passive defensive systems include an inbuilt magical resistance to all elements vastly more powerful then that incorporated into the Mark II, strong spell resistance with an antimagic field around the pilot to prevent them from being directly targeted by baleful effects, simultaneous presence in the Material and Astral Planes, trace amounts of the dinivation-interfering metal urdrukar, and tremendous durability enhancement. Its active defensive systems include a primitive point defense system revolving around magic missiles, and a device that projects canisters of intensely magical teal smoke. This teal smoke utterly blocks vision and darkvision, as well as severely interfering with blindsight, blindsense, and magical divination effects. It also produces the effect of a wild magic zone in its area of effect, making spellcasting hazardous.
Its offensive systems include intense magical enhancements to the built-in claws, a 'breath weapon' of magical force sufficient to completely raze a castle wall, and devices capable of projecting barrels of alchemist's fire, alchemist's frost, alchemist's spark, acid, or acidic fire.
It also features magical sensors that magically sharpen Hestaby's senses as well as providing equivilents to Detect Magic, Detect Scrying, and True Seeing. They can penetrate the teal smoke put out by her canisters only to a limited degree.
DragonShell IIIe: The IIIe approximately duplicates the abilities of the Mark III, but largely replaces its composite construction with the magically malleable metal entropium. While it is heavier, slower, clumsier and less durable than the Mark III, it has limited self-repair and self-alteration abilities.
DragonShell Evangelion: An expirimental model, the DragonShell EVA is a suit of obdurium armor fused around the magically and surgically altered, as well as partially reanimated, corpse of a dead god from the Far Realms. Hestaby herself is unsure if the plating is to protect the Evangelion- or to restrain it. At over a hundred feet high at the shoulder, only the largest true dragons can hope to match its size, and next to nothing short of diefic forces can match its physical power. Its capabilities are largely unknown even to Hestaby, but she is reasonably certain that it has no inherent ranged attacks.
Hestaby controls it only through a fickle magical-psionic interface that directly projects her conciousness into the construct: disturbingly, it has acted without her intervention on multiple occasions, and has sometimes entered a berserker state.
It looks significantly less dragonlike than any of the other models: its void-black armor plating, vertical fins or blades over each shoulder, sleek and threatening general styling, and facial structure broadly similar to a ceratopsid dinasaur combine to create an alien and terrifying impression.
Hestaby feels shaky and mentally unbalanced after using it. Though she'd never admit it, it scares her to death, chiefly because she doesn't really understand it or how she built it: she will use it only under the direst circumstances.
DragonShell Harness: Required for Hestaby to control any of the DragonShells, the Harness is magically keyed to each of the DragonShells, which are kept in storage in her lair when not in use. It can teleport a DragonShell directly around her about once every three minutes: if she is already in one, it can teleport the current one back home and bring another one to replace it. It punches through planar and magical impediments to teleportation with ease.
Draconic amphetamine (expended, see IC thread)
Positive/negative annhialation device (three-part separated flask: one part ground-up voidstone emulsified in fiend's blood, one part ground-up Phylactary of Undead Turning emulsified in celestial blood, one part modified scrap of Bag of Holding.
Single loose canister of magical teal smoke (see DragonShell III)
Anti-teal smoke goggles (see IC thread)
Warchif
Warchif shadowsong, arachnoid shadow derro, rogue/fighter/ranger/ghostfaced killer/assassin/shadowblade/shadow caster/child of night, shadowfang (custom-made weapon for use with 6 hands, vampiric, wounding, keen, poisoned 1d10 con/1d10 con), ring of invisibility, boots of speed, shadow walker
He was born in a small tribe of derro, who lived peacefully (for derros) in the underdark. One day, when he was still only a baby, his tribe was raided by shadow humans. They took him with them home, and sold him as a slave. A family bought him from the raiders, and chose to raise him as their own. He lived his youth without much hassle. He wandered the plane of shadow, and got accustomed to its dangers. He used his talents for stealth to gain a reputation to be among the best scouts and warriors the plane had to offer. On one of his many travels he met a band of assassins. He joined them, and helped them with carrying out their missions, and in return they taught him the arts of the assassin. He left them again, and turned a freelance killer for some time. Then he tried to assassinate a powerful mage, but the mage discovered him before he could strike a lethal blow. Instead of killing him the mage used magic to enslave him. He was forced to serve the mage for long, but he did it the best he could. The mage was impressed with his eagerness to serve the mage, which was far more than the spell would cause. It was all a part of Warchif’s plan though. He would show as much eagerness to serve that the mage wouldn’t care to keep sustaining the enslaving magic. His plan succeeded, but he wanted more than freedom, he wanted revenge. So he stayed with the mage in order to gain the needed power to defeat the mage. The mage chose to train him, as he seemed to be an eager servant and apprentice. When Warchif’s training in the arts of shadow magic was done, he estimated that he was powerful enough. He attacked his master in his sleep, and managed to kill him. He then sought out in his home plane again, but things had grown rather dull there. He was so powerful nothing could challenge him. Then he heard of the battle royal at Sorcen’s baator from a priestess that he med while travelling the planes.
He was born in a small tribe of derro, who lived peacefully (for derros) in the underdark. One day, when he was still only a baby, his tribe was raided by shadow humans. They took him with them home, and sold him as a slave. A family bought him from the raiders, and chose to raise him as their own. He lived his youth without much hassle. He wandered the plane of shadow, and got accustomed to its dangers. He used his talents for stealth to gain a reputation to be among the best scouts and warriors the plane had to offer. On one of his many travels he met a band of assassins. He joined them, and helped them with carrying out their missions, and in return they taught him the arts of the assassin. He left them again, and turned a freelance killer for some time. Then he tried to assassinate a powerful mage, but the mage discovered him before he could strike a lethal blow. Instead of killing him the mage used magic to enslave him. He was forced to serve the mage for long, but he did it the best he could. The mage was impressed with his eagerness to serve the mage, which was far more than the spell would cause. It was all a part of Warchif’s plan though. He would show as much eagerness to serve that the mage wouldn’t care to keep sustaining the enslaving magic. His plan succeeded, but he wanted more than freedom, he wanted revenge. So he stayed with the mage in order to gain the needed power to defeat the mage. The mage chose to train him, as he seemed to be an eager servant and apprentice. When Warchif’s training in the arts of shadow magic was done, he estimated that he was powerful enough. He attacked his master in his sleep, and managed to kill him. He then sought out in his home plane again, but things had grown rather dull there. He was so powerful nothing could challenge him. Then he heard of the battle royal at Sorcen’s baator from a priestess that he med while travelling the planes.
race: Halfling
class: Bard
unique abilities:
Magical Music: he is trained in music magic using music to cast his spell using his Flute or Ukelele
Stealthy can avoid etection.
has quick reflexes and is able to dodge attacks
items:
Magical Flute: a flute given to him by his mentor, it posseses magical properties
Magical Ukelele: also magical, also given by his mentor
Shortsword: plain shortsword
Personality: light, humoress, easygoing and friendly, kind and peaceful, loves Good, dislikes order, he is a good guy, but defies authority figures and doesn't really care for governments
Appearance: wearing plain traveling clothes, carrying a pack on his back,
with orange hair and green eyes, often seen playing the Flute or the Ukelele,
he has normal colored skin, and is about 4 feet tall, he carries a short sword on his belt to defend himself.
History: He comes from the village of Elajomi, where Halflings practice great arts such as painting, drawing, novel writing and music- a culture of the arts.
After he was finished with his apprenticeship as a Bard he decided to spread Elajomi culture across the world and traveled town to town earning a lot of money from the songs and music he played in taverns and Inns.
Tarak is Lawful Neutral Phrenic Pseudonatural Paragon Thri-Kreen of Legend who posesses immense power and magical talent. He spent most of his younger years learning to hunt and survive in the vast desert he lived in. That is, until he stumbled upon an Extraplanar portal during a hunt. Curiosty overwhelmed him, and he stepped inside. Beyond the portal was the Far Realms themselves. He wandered around in awe, not realising that the overwhelming chaotic energies were slowly transforming him. Tarak wandered around for a little while longer until he emerged from yet another portal. The chaotic energies had taken their toll:Tarak now seemed to have an aura of malice surronding him, and the chitinous plates that surronded his body were harder than any known metal. Not only that, but he showed many unusual abilities, such as massive strength, and magical abilities, such as warping to one spot to another(If you haven`t realised, he is a Pseudonatural now). The last straw was when several long, barbed tentacles sprouted from his back. He was then exilied from the tribe. He then spent many long years gaining favour from the Ruby Sorceress, Wee Jas, training as a cleric in her name and eventually being rewarded for serving her(Paragon and Monster of Legend). Then, one faithful day, he came across a large cave. He entered and saw upon a pedestal two greatswords, made out of solidified force. In a vision, many gods came to him, asking whether he wished to serve them as the Keeper of Balance and to maintain balance everywhere. Tarak accepted, taking the two blades from the pedestal. Ever since, he has been maintaing balance across the planes. He has recently come to Baator to gradually balance out the Blood War, but was captured and taken to Sorcens` arena.....
Items:
Blades of Balance(10+ Axiomatic Power Anarchic Power Unholy Power Holy Power Enfeebling Acidic Burst Blurstrike Vorpal Brilliant Energy(Can change between energy and standard as a free action) Greater Wounding Greater Dispelling Dread(Same Type As Enemy) Greatswords
Blade of Ultimate Law(Axiomatic Power Vorpal Blurstrike Acidic Blast Brilliant Energy(Can change between energy and standard as a free action) Greater Wounding Greater Dispelling Dread(Same Type As Enemy)Keeper`s Fang(Except it deals lawful instead of evil damage and the soul of the enemy is imprisoned in Nirvana)Speed Stalactite(Save DC 47)Knockback Almighty Distruption(DC 57) Distance Everdancing Triple Throw Greatsword)
Deck Of Illusions
Amulet Of The Planes
Figure Of Wonderous Power(Obsidian Steed)
HeadBand of Intellect
Ring Of Evasion
Ring Of Mind Sheilding
Belt Of Giant`s Strength+6
Bracers Of Armour+13
Ender Chant, magician
Ender Chant is the eldest son of a family of magnificent sorcerers and wizards. It was no surprise that he took to magic immediatly, and by age fifteen, had already managed to conjure a fairy, restore life to a favorite cat, and even persuade the wind to dance with him. Soon, his talents grew beyond the ken of his family mentors, and so he wished them all a fond farewell, to set off across the worlds to learn more, to gain more magic and power. His parents, brothers, sisters were all proud beyond compare - save for his youngest cousin, struggling along with the most basic magics.
He traveled the width and breadth of many worlds, his magic growing more elegant and subtle with each day. During his travels, he met another magician, of talent equal to his own. It didn't take long for him to fall in love with the sorceress he met.
A year passed, and he proposed to his friend. However, before she could respond, she vanished, snatched away by some unearthly magic. Ender bent all of his power towards finding her, but to no avail.
Now, he searches the multiverse on foot, looking for the rival mage who managed to take his fiancee. Needless to say, his quest has brought him into the depths of hell: into Sorcen's Baator.
Appearence: Ender is a young man, with features not precisly human - there's something fey like about him. His ash blond hair is neatly tied back, showing his handsome features and bright, silver eyes. He walks with the air of someone who harbors no doubts about himself.
He wears an elegant, dark blue frock coat over a spotless gray shirt. The only ornaments on the coat are the silver, star-shaped buttons on the cuff.
He traveled the width and breadth of many worlds, his magic growing more elegant and subtle with each day. During his travels, he met another magician, of talent equal to his own. It didn't take long for him to fall in love with the sorceress he met.
A year passed, and he proposed to his friend. However, before she could respond, she vanished, snatched away by some unearthly magic. Ender bent all of his power towards finding her, but to no avail.
Now, he searches the multiverse on foot, looking for the rival mage who managed to take his fiancee. Needless to say, his quest has brought him into the depths of hell: into Sorcen's Baator.
Appearence: Ender is a young man, with features not precisly human - there's something fey like about him. His ash blond hair is neatly tied back, showing his handsome features and bright, silver eyes. He walks with the air of someone who harbors no doubts about himself.
He wears an elegant, dark blue frock coat over a spotless gray shirt. The only ornaments on the coat are the silver, star-shaped buttons on the cuff.
Lunoc, fiendish gnoll, monk, lunoc can use his spiritual energy as a weapon, firing blasts of force, but if he overuses them it fatigues and eventually exhausts him. His claws have a powerful poison coating them.
Lunoc was created by devils to be a slave. He belongs to a tourtured and experimented race called “damwulves”. Since he was young he was taught to hate other creatures. He escaped servitude during his adolescence and made his way to the material plane. Once there he was adopted by a benevolent creature who taught him discipline through martial arts in an attempt to turn lunoc to good. In the end lunoc betrayed his master and now searches for combat, or power.
master miǎn gǒu
unknown race, monk
miǎn gǒu is a powerful spirit of strength, kindness, and good. his origins are a mystery but by his own account he is a native of the material plane. when the spirit takes physical form it is the form of old human man. he usually does not take interest in human affairs, he simply teaches his art to those who would listen and learn. he learned recently of the crimes of his former star pupil/adopted son, lunoc. he has now pledged to do good for man and keep the balance of good and evil.
xalax and co.
xalax
ancient pit fiend cleric/sorcerer mystic thurge
great devil king, xalax has had thousands of years to establish his empire. he sends his troops into the abyss, negative plane, and the other places of battle and darkness, to concur and destroy. he comitiond the creation of the damwulfs. he wears the void armor a magic suit of armor that absorbs negative energy into itself that can be discharged later. he sometimes wields a very large maul. it is made for destoying undead. the least of its abillitys are disruption, undead bane and unholy.
prime counsel cai
large wil-o-wisp, varied spell caster
lawful evil
cai is xalax's voice of reason, his secretary, and a good friend of his. cai seems calm, but he can be brutally efficient in combat. xalax usually calls him "soft" but he only appears that way because xalax never gives him the chance to prove himself. many times cai has been on the verge of battling an enemy, when xalax swoops in and kills him with one strike. in his spare time cai gets drunk out of his mind, although no one is sure how.
note, all these descriptions are very old, and i am just too lazy to update them, so the actual characters are extreamly different now.
Koronexesfetero'Rashzyxo'T'kad'Fer, The great black one, The creator of the corrupted, The never-ending avenger
[b]Koronexesfetero'Rashzyxo'T'kad'Fer
Unknown Dragon
SoulEater/MortalHunter/Sorcerer/Fighter[/b]
Dragons are an old and powerful kind of creature. Tracing their origin aeons ago, back at the birth of their last family members, the very first of their kind to the hatch of Tiamat and Bahamut from their divine eggs. Other than the few draconic gods, a single dragon, which age surpass the comprehension of many, can trace his origin very closely to Io.
Long before the birth of the known draconic pantheon, at the middle of various dragons species, long forgotten into death, a kind of powerful black scalled dragon was born. Over time, the first son of the god-like dragon that created this sort of dragon, Koronexesfetero'Rashzyxo'T'kad'Fer, was commanding the whole race. Though, over time, power took over him. Every living creature, even non-living ones, was inferior to him. To his kind. Even other dragons.
From there a war started. Everything agaisnt him and his race. But it wasn't enough. Koronexesfetero'Rashzyxo'T'kad'Fer managed to bring every other races into slavery and food, as they were nothing more than that. But what pleased Koronexesfetero'Rashzyxo'T'kad'Fer didn't pleased the gods, the arrogant black scaled dragon was much of a threat and a shame.
Koronexesfetero'Rashzyxo'T'kad'Fer's father came down from the divine realm to kill himself his creation. One by one, they have been slain without mercy. Although his orders were clear, he could not kill his very first son. Instead, Koronexesfetero'Rashzyxo'T'kad'Fer was banished in hell, not long after the first angels were dumped in.
Nothing could describe Koronexesfetero'Rashzyxo'T'kad'Fer's rage and anger agaisnt his father and his allies. His whole family was dead, even his father. All he wanted to do is to return to the prime plane and bring down his rage on his new enemies. He caused a lot of damage in Hell, killing nearly half of the devils all by himself before the devils chained him down in a cavern, blocking all issues and forgetting him there. Days, weeks, months, years... many millenias passed without a sign of life, without a sign of light.
While he was sertain that he would die there, as years passed, the opposite happened. His body absorbed the negative and fiendish energy emerging from the plane, his body changed. It was getting stronger, healthier and his rage was decupling each second that passed during the whole time.
After some time, his body got so big and powerful that the magical chains holding him to the ground were too weak to continue their bidding. They broke off. It took Koronexesfetero'Rashzyxo'T'kad'Fer months of continuous burrowing before seeing something else than the same shadow, rocks and dirt. He was finally out. There is no word to discribe the joy that the dragon had when he breathed the fresh air of putrefaction and foul smell of the devils around. The dim light from the lava were refreshing his dusty eyes in an extacy of colors that he had almost forgotten. But at the same time, he lost himself in a frenesy of rage and joy.
It didn't took long before everything in its sight was eradicated. But it wasn't enough, he flew away, causing rampage everywhere in Hell during months and years. But it was never enough. There was never enough blood, never enough violence, never enough pain, never enough war agaisnt everything to satisfied him from his neverending rage.
He soon understood that he would need to savagely kill those who chained him to make meaningful death.
He wandered the land of Hell during many, many years. Soon, his strength was feared, but Korone wanted to be more quiet. He could most likely kill the lords of the different layer, but instoring fear with his mere presence was more interesting. His presence was unseen but felt.
Then, a new kind of creature appeared in the deeps of Hell, huge winged draconic monstruosity began to populate the many layers, they were called hellfire wyrm. There was that rumor that Korone created these sadistic creatures as an army and personal assistant. They too, were searching through hell for something that nobody seemed to know.
After some time searching, he found this arena.. there was a familiar aura coming from it, a disgusting aura that called to be killed.
***************
Appearance: Titanic. If the word is correctly used, it might get as near as 'Korone's' size should be. His size alone would put to shame the biggest known great wyrm, whatever the species. And his size is a depiction of his age, barely mesurable. A human's life is like a second in his long, endless life.
Standing on all four, his front leg alone tower at least 500 feets high, his chest being almost as large. His whole body is heavily muscled and partially covered with spikes, deformed scaled that have grown in such way. His wings are immence, being some miles long.
His head is decorated with numerous horns, spikes covering his face as well, a long crest raise behind the central horns, going down his spine all the way to the end of his tail. His black, empty eyes show no emotions, in fact, you would have to take a long look at them to find a trace of life.
His large mouth show long, rasor sharp teeth with an absence of lips. His body is covered his battle marks, large scars snaking on his body, broken horns and perforated crest and wings.
(A picture's coming soon)
Equipment: Yeah, sure...
Powers:
Shape Changing. Korone has the ability to change form as a doppelganger do, although size isn't a problem. He can modify the form he takes into pretty much what he want. In addition, he can use the abilities and powers that the creature assumed have/had, although he must know about these.
One of his favored form is an insec.. medium sized humanoid floating above the ground, wearing a long black and ruined robe. With the face hidden with darkness.
Black Fire Breath Weapon. In quick word, it is a breath made out of 'fire' and negative/evil energy. Although, the now unique type of fire coming out of Korone actually bypass resistance, even immunity to fire. The breath dissipate and somewhat enlarge the atomes that compose matters, making it very unstable. It doesn't really burn, although it is very hot, it liquify the things that comes in contact with the black fire.
Soul Stealing. When someone die, his soul begin to depart to an other world. Although, Korone can interupt this process and 'catch' the soul of the deceased one and absorb it. By doing so, he get all the knowledge of the creature, destroying it at the same time. The absorbed soul regenerate Korone, if strong enough.
If desired, he can 'copy' the soul by keeping a fragment of it. The fragment get corrupted and completely modified so that Korone have control over it, as a never-questioning slave. Then, the fragment is sent into the dead body, coming back to 'life'.
Magic. Don't tell me you didn't saw that one coming... just think about the caster level of an already powerful dragon which is above the 67th age category.
Negative Aura. The times spent chained in Hell gave some new 'stuff' to Korone. The negative and evil energy entered his body, being permanently with him. But at his size, the quantity of energy is so huge that it gives him an aura that corrupt and break things, as well as life, around him.
Allies/Slaves:
Allies:
Six very old Hellfire wyrm, which are always with Korone.
Hundreds of Hellfire wyrm outside the arena.
Slaves: None yet.
Unknown Dragon
SoulEater/MortalHunter/Sorcerer/Fighter[/b]
Dragons are an old and powerful kind of creature. Tracing their origin aeons ago, back at the birth of their last family members, the very first of their kind to the hatch of Tiamat and Bahamut from their divine eggs. Other than the few draconic gods, a single dragon, which age surpass the comprehension of many, can trace his origin very closely to Io.
Long before the birth of the known draconic pantheon, at the middle of various dragons species, long forgotten into death, a kind of powerful black scalled dragon was born. Over time, the first son of the god-like dragon that created this sort of dragon, Koronexesfetero'Rashzyxo'T'kad'Fer, was commanding the whole race. Though, over time, power took over him. Every living creature, even non-living ones, was inferior to him. To his kind. Even other dragons.
From there a war started. Everything agaisnt him and his race. But it wasn't enough. Koronexesfetero'Rashzyxo'T'kad'Fer managed to bring every other races into slavery and food, as they were nothing more than that. But what pleased Koronexesfetero'Rashzyxo'T'kad'Fer didn't pleased the gods, the arrogant black scaled dragon was much of a threat and a shame.
Koronexesfetero'Rashzyxo'T'kad'Fer's father came down from the divine realm to kill himself his creation. One by one, they have been slain without mercy. Although his orders were clear, he could not kill his very first son. Instead, Koronexesfetero'Rashzyxo'T'kad'Fer was banished in hell, not long after the first angels were dumped in.
Nothing could describe Koronexesfetero'Rashzyxo'T'kad'Fer's rage and anger agaisnt his father and his allies. His whole family was dead, even his father. All he wanted to do is to return to the prime plane and bring down his rage on his new enemies. He caused a lot of damage in Hell, killing nearly half of the devils all by himself before the devils chained him down in a cavern, blocking all issues and forgetting him there. Days, weeks, months, years... many millenias passed without a sign of life, without a sign of light.
While he was sertain that he would die there, as years passed, the opposite happened. His body absorbed the negative and fiendish energy emerging from the plane, his body changed. It was getting stronger, healthier and his rage was decupling each second that passed during the whole time.
After some time, his body got so big and powerful that the magical chains holding him to the ground were too weak to continue their bidding. They broke off. It took Koronexesfetero'Rashzyxo'T'kad'Fer months of continuous burrowing before seeing something else than the same shadow, rocks and dirt. He was finally out. There is no word to discribe the joy that the dragon had when he breathed the fresh air of putrefaction and foul smell of the devils around. The dim light from the lava were refreshing his dusty eyes in an extacy of colors that he had almost forgotten. But at the same time, he lost himself in a frenesy of rage and joy.
It didn't took long before everything in its sight was eradicated. But it wasn't enough, he flew away, causing rampage everywhere in Hell during months and years. But it was never enough. There was never enough blood, never enough violence, never enough pain, never enough war agaisnt everything to satisfied him from his neverending rage.
He soon understood that he would need to savagely kill those who chained him to make meaningful death.
He wandered the land of Hell during many, many years. Soon, his strength was feared, but Korone wanted to be more quiet. He could most likely kill the lords of the different layer, but instoring fear with his mere presence was more interesting. His presence was unseen but felt.
Then, a new kind of creature appeared in the deeps of Hell, huge winged draconic monstruosity began to populate the many layers, they were called hellfire wyrm. There was that rumor that Korone created these sadistic creatures as an army and personal assistant. They too, were searching through hell for something that nobody seemed to know.
After some time searching, he found this arena.. there was a familiar aura coming from it, a disgusting aura that called to be killed.
***************
Appearance: Titanic. If the word is correctly used, it might get as near as 'Korone's' size should be. His size alone would put to shame the biggest known great wyrm, whatever the species. And his size is a depiction of his age, barely mesurable. A human's life is like a second in his long, endless life.
Standing on all four, his front leg alone tower at least 500 feets high, his chest being almost as large. His whole body is heavily muscled and partially covered with spikes, deformed scaled that have grown in such way. His wings are immence, being some miles long.
His head is decorated with numerous horns, spikes covering his face as well, a long crest raise behind the central horns, going down his spine all the way to the end of his tail. His black, empty eyes show no emotions, in fact, you would have to take a long look at them to find a trace of life.
His large mouth show long, rasor sharp teeth with an absence of lips. His body is covered his battle marks, large scars snaking on his body, broken horns and perforated crest and wings.
(A picture's coming soon)
Equipment: Yeah, sure...
Powers:
Shape Changing. Korone has the ability to change form as a doppelganger do, although size isn't a problem. He can modify the form he takes into pretty much what he want. In addition, he can use the abilities and powers that the creature assumed have/had, although he must know about these.
One of his favored form is an insec.. medium sized humanoid floating above the ground, wearing a long black and ruined robe. With the face hidden with darkness.
Black Fire Breath Weapon. In quick word, it is a breath made out of 'fire' and negative/evil energy. Although, the now unique type of fire coming out of Korone actually bypass resistance, even immunity to fire. The breath dissipate and somewhat enlarge the atomes that compose matters, making it very unstable. It doesn't really burn, although it is very hot, it liquify the things that comes in contact with the black fire.
Soul Stealing. When someone die, his soul begin to depart to an other world. Although, Korone can interupt this process and 'catch' the soul of the deceased one and absorb it. By doing so, he get all the knowledge of the creature, destroying it at the same time. The absorbed soul regenerate Korone, if strong enough.
If desired, he can 'copy' the soul by keeping a fragment of it. The fragment get corrupted and completely modified so that Korone have control over it, as a never-questioning slave. Then, the fragment is sent into the dead body, coming back to 'life'.
Magic. Don't tell me you didn't saw that one coming... just think about the caster level of an already powerful dragon which is above the 67th age category.
Negative Aura. The times spent chained in Hell gave some new 'stuff' to Korone. The negative and evil energy entered his body, being permanently with him. But at his size, the quantity of energy is so huge that it gives him an aura that corrupt and break things, as well as life, around him.
Allies/Slaves:
Allies:
Six very old Hellfire wyrm, which are always with Korone.
Hundreds of Hellfire wyrm outside the arena.
Slaves: None yet.
Talon the Searcher
Talon the Searcher, Tiefling, Duskblade/Mindspy, The Blade of Harakon (a very powerful longsword augmenting Talons ability to channel arcane magic through it, and capable of cutting through almost anything), the armor of Dusk (a chain shirt granting him a strong resistance to all sorts of magic and other supernatural effects), A precognitive ability to see things a short while before they happen (between 5 and 20 seconds) and the ability tosense peoples thoughts so skilled as if he is using Detect thoughts (At will, as a free action), Talon is a master swordfighter, and has acrobatic skills that borderline the supernatural.
Background Story: Born as the result of a wandering half-fiends **** of the local midwife, Talon grew up hated by the entire village, and had it not been for the intervention of his older halfbrother Manion, Talon would have been slain as a small babe. As he grew up, his only friend was Manion, who taught him how to fight, how to use magic, and most importantly, how to meld these arts. In fighting Manion taught him that the fighter who thinks loses, while the fighter who simply reacts, and listens to his instinct often claims victory, and Talon took these words to heart.
One day Manion was found murdered in the forest, and before Talon even realized that his brother was dead, the village people blamed him, and tried to burn him at the stakes. For more than three hours did he burn, his fiendish nature protecting him from most of the flames, before the chains he had been bound with, became so hot that the poor iron melted. He ran in to the forest, naked and covered in burnmarks, and there he found his brothers body, that the villagers, intent on killing Talon, had completely forgotten. For more than an hour did he cry over the body of the only person who had ever shown him anything but hate and disgust. Then he picked up his brothers clothe, armour, and sword, and walked out into the world, seeking a new life, seeking any life.
After a month of hiking through the wilderness, living of the land, he encountered a group of dragonslayers, seeking glory. Impressed by his skill in battle, they let Talon join them, whereafter he took them name Talon, forever abandoning his forgotten childhood name.
For more than four years did Talon travel with the Dragonslayers, ending the life of three dragons, one red, and two copper, before they finally met their end at the claws of a gold. The mighty dragon looked past their disguise and searched their minds with it’s mighty magic. Only Talon did it find worthy of life, as it realized that unlike his companions, Talon was not evil, he simply sought somewhere to fit in, and it spared him. In recompense for his part in the death of two good dragons, the gold judged him to be it’s servant for ten years. During the time Talon spent with the dragon, it taught him of moral and honor, leaving a deep imprint on his still forming soul. However it never told him its name, always ordering him to call it Gold.
For the rest of his life, Talon would always remember these years as the best of his life, but to all good things comes an end, and this end was particularly brutal. A band of dragonslayers assaulted Gold while he was sleeping, somehow penetrating his magical wards, and although the great dragon awoke, it was ill-prepared for a fight, and was slain before it could retaliate against the intruders. As Talon saw this something inside him awoke, driving him to a new height of fury he had never imagined. With nothing his brothers sword in hand he charged the dozens of skilled warriors. Somehow predicting their moves before they even thought of making them, and somehow knowing their plans in the very second they thought of them, he brutally murdered them all, save one. When Talon finally drove his fury off, he found that a single of the Dragonslayers still drew breath. The last survivor knelled before Talon and begged for his life,
(more to come)
Background Story: Born as the result of a wandering half-fiends **** of the local midwife, Talon grew up hated by the entire village, and had it not been for the intervention of his older halfbrother Manion, Talon would have been slain as a small babe. As he grew up, his only friend was Manion, who taught him how to fight, how to use magic, and most importantly, how to meld these arts. In fighting Manion taught him that the fighter who thinks loses, while the fighter who simply reacts, and listens to his instinct often claims victory, and Talon took these words to heart.
One day Manion was found murdered in the forest, and before Talon even realized that his brother was dead, the village people blamed him, and tried to burn him at the stakes. For more than three hours did he burn, his fiendish nature protecting him from most of the flames, before the chains he had been bound with, became so hot that the poor iron melted. He ran in to the forest, naked and covered in burnmarks, and there he found his brothers body, that the villagers, intent on killing Talon, had completely forgotten. For more than an hour did he cry over the body of the only person who had ever shown him anything but hate and disgust. Then he picked up his brothers clothe, armour, and sword, and walked out into the world, seeking a new life, seeking any life.
After a month of hiking through the wilderness, living of the land, he encountered a group of dragonslayers, seeking glory. Impressed by his skill in battle, they let Talon join them, whereafter he took them name Talon, forever abandoning his forgotten childhood name.
For more than four years did Talon travel with the Dragonslayers, ending the life of three dragons, one red, and two copper, before they finally met their end at the claws of a gold. The mighty dragon looked past their disguise and searched their minds with it’s mighty magic. Only Talon did it find worthy of life, as it realized that unlike his companions, Talon was not evil, he simply sought somewhere to fit in, and it spared him. In recompense for his part in the death of two good dragons, the gold judged him to be it’s servant for ten years. During the time Talon spent with the dragon, it taught him of moral and honor, leaving a deep imprint on his still forming soul. However it never told him its name, always ordering him to call it Gold.
For the rest of his life, Talon would always remember these years as the best of his life, but to all good things comes an end, and this end was particularly brutal. A band of dragonslayers assaulted Gold while he was sleeping, somehow penetrating his magical wards, and although the great dragon awoke, it was ill-prepared for a fight, and was slain before it could retaliate against the intruders. As Talon saw this something inside him awoke, driving him to a new height of fury he had never imagined. With nothing his brothers sword in hand he charged the dozens of skilled warriors. Somehow predicting their moves before they even thought of making them, and somehow knowing their plans in the very second they thought of them, he brutally murdered them all, save one. When Talon finally drove his fury off, he found that a single of the Dragonslayers still drew breath. The last survivor knelled before Talon and begged for his life,
(more to come)
Show
Name:Razeil Korben
race:long ago, human...ish ,now,demilich skull
Age:really really old impossible to determine for sure
eye color:alternating colored energy boiling from the sockets
Dessy:
race:long ago, human...ish ,now,demilich skull
Age:really really old impossible to determine for sure
eye color:alternating colored energy boiling from the sockets
Dessy:
Show
You begin to think to yourself that the carved skull, sitting on the alter, is..... kind of looking right at you. It is.
It appears to be a jet black skull with designs carved into it. On the front of the skull a golden death mask is riveted strait to the bone. The mask is decorated with many stones of unimaginable power. As you draw closer to the alter the skull deftly lifts from its resting place, energy boils out and a voice rings out inside your mind,"finally I was starting to think no one could fight there way to me, I mean when a spell calls for a heroic soul you really learn the definition of patience....Now this might sting a bit." In a flash of white light your body is destroyed and your soul is condensed into a blue tinted crystal that moves into a orbit around the demilich.
It appears to be a jet black skull with designs carved into it. On the front of the skull a golden death mask is riveted strait to the bone. The mask is decorated with many stones of unimaginable power. As you draw closer to the alter the skull deftly lifts from its resting place, energy boils out and a voice rings out inside your mind,"finally I was starting to think no one could fight there way to me, I mean when a spell calls for a heroic soul you really learn the definition of patience....Now this might sting a bit." In a flash of white light your body is destroyed and your soul is condensed into a blue tinted crystal that moves into a orbit around the demilich.
Lily
Lily
Human Female
Neutral Evil
Fighter/Cleric/Blackguard/Nerull's chosen
At first Lily is what you would expect from a 6-year-old girl. However, after a second look she becomes much more sinister. She has a scythe that is too big for her strapped onto her back and she eminates an extremely strong aura of evil.
Didn't even bother trying to come up with a backstory. What could explain being a blackguard at age 6?
Lily is what is known as a humor character.
Human Female
Neutral Evil
Fighter/Cleric/Blackguard/Nerull's chosen
At first Lily is what you would expect from a 6-year-old girl. However, after a second look she becomes much more sinister. She has a scythe that is too big for her strapped onto her back and she eminates an extremely strong aura of evil.
Didn't even bother trying to come up with a backstory. What could explain being a blackguard at age 6?
Lily is what is known as a humor character.
L'aximniac is a Styx dragon whose obsession with attaining ultimate power surpassed even others of his kind....and he found it. As a Truenamer, L'aximniac can alter the entire multiverse on a whim, and as a Dragon Ascendant he gains the power of full-fledged gods. He enjoys toying with his enemies more than killing them immediately and all rivals would do well to remember that......He also has a nasty habit of speaking hours of truenames before a battle to give him bonuses even a major deity would be jealous of.
Iasheur Artinkson. "This will suffice, I assume?" He growls almost inaudably.
Iasheur Artinkson, Divine lord of the arctic warrior bear tribe
Iasheur could be found within the front lines of battle, his snow white fur streaked and splattered with scarlet blood, towering over men as he tears foe after foe apart with spell and claw alike. After the fall of his tribe Iasheur fell out of grace with the beings that granted him his ancient magic, he then wandered the lands as a sellsword for years untill meeting a demon who promised Iasheur the return of his ungodly powers if he could perform a certain "errand" for the blood-crazed demon, an errand that to this day Iasheur seeks to fullfill...
Iasheur is of an ancient race of bear folk. He has the appearance of a polar bear but the posture (and opposable thumbs) of a human.
He stands many feet taller than any man and is even larger than most of his species. His fur is forever stained with blood that maches the color of his glaring, demonic eyes.
Iasheur could be found within the front lines of battle, his snow white fur streaked and splattered with scarlet blood, towering over men as he tears foe after foe apart with spell and claw alike. After the fall of his tribe Iasheur fell out of grace with the beings that granted him his ancient magic, he then wandered the lands as a sellsword for years untill meeting a demon who promised Iasheur the return of his ungodly powers if he could perform a certain "errand" for the blood-crazed demon, an errand that to this day Iasheur seeks to fullfill...
Iasheur is of an ancient race of bear folk. He has the appearance of a polar bear but the posture (and opposable thumbs) of a human.
He stands many feet taller than any man and is even larger than most of his species. His fur is forever stained with blood that maches the color of his glaring, demonic eyes.
shadewing
blue mage 21
summoner 20
cleric 9
mystic theruge 10
geomancer 1
half-gold-dragon elven starstepper(in my sig)
this is the backstory here
blue mage 21
summoner 20
cleric 9
mystic theruge 10
geomancer 1
half-gold-dragon elven starstepper(in my sig)
this is the backstory here
Race: Serpanno (SERP-rano)
Age: 26
Eyes: Green
Hair: Black, short
Height: 6'
Gender: Male
Affiliation: Seperatist Rebellion
Items: Unknown
Background: Unknown
Elmira is a short, thin woman. She has tightly curled black hair and light eyes that change color as rapidly as her mood changes. Her pale, smooth skin gives her the appearance of youth and frailty, though she is neither. Elmira carries her centuries with an absolute will and a firm resolve that is rarely seen even in the dedicated Shadian mages. Her customary garb is a deep purple robe trimmed in green.
Elmira is bonded to the wand she carries by the force of the magic that runs in her blood and bones, and cannot die until it is shattered. So, it seems that she will never die, for the wand was a gift to her from her creator, The Great Mother Goddess of Haldinay. Unbreakable and forever.
Elmira took up her place as the child of her mothers’ womb as queen and protector of Shadiaii, and eventually over the Kingdome of Haldinay as well, freeing it from tyranny. Her final seal to immortality is Allif, a foster-son not at all human, with a wild magic that no human can understand that bonds him to the land. He too, has Shadian crystal, only his is part of his body, giving him an even stronger bond to it. Their minds are so closely tied into eachother that it is difficult to tell where one mind begins, and the other ends.
Elmira married, and had children, and had wished to wait another decade to hand the thrones to them, thus freeing herself from their burden, but she was not given that chance. The Magus Alasha, another crystal bonded mage, wanted the throne of Shadiaii for herself. The battle that followed was one such that had never been seen since the days that the Mother Goddess and Father Darkness battled over the right to rule the Human realm.
Two spells clashed and formed a rip in the sky, to which Elmira was unfortunate enough to fall. With Allif still in her mind, his voice whispering instructions, Elmira was able to break free of the rip and fall, literally, into Hell.
Race: Human
Age: 29
Eye: Green. The other eye has been put out, and he wears a simple patch over it.
Hair: Pepper ash. His hair is mostly black, but it looks like someone dropped a bucket of ashes on his head and it stayed.
Height: 5'9''
Gender: Male
General Description: A thin but well built man, Eron strikes an impressive physique. He comes across as somewhat gruff, with an ever present stubble and the eye patch. He is heavily tanned and his one good eye is sharp. He wears simple traveler's clothing, but he seems vaguely indistinct, particular when shadows are present. It's almost as if he wore the darkness around him. Which is the truth: his armor has been granted the most minor power over shadow, allowing him to hide with relative ease.
His hair is semi-long, drawn back away from his face. Some strands drift unnoticed over his eyepatch, but he keeps his hair well clear of his other eye.
Items: His trusty collapsible bow, a large amount of arrows, climbing gear, caltrops, alchemist fire... a little of everything, mostly mundane. His bow, his armor, and his boots are among the very few magical items he bears with him.
Background: Eron came from a war torn world, where two empires had been in a state of on and off conflict for the better part of six centuries, each contending that their God was the creator God. He began his life as a war orphan, and settled into banditry soon after, attacking deserters and loners who returned from the fields of battle until he was captured and put to work for the military. He led a very successful career as a captain shortly after, gathering the local bandits into an elite strike force. He eventually lost his eye after the inn he was staying in was pushed over the side of a cliff, crippling his ability to use his bow.
It took him years to retrain himself, to refine his style. In that time he was preyed upon himself by lords and other corrupt beings in his time among local peasants in the land he found himself in. When he was finally satisified with his archery once again, he hired his skills out to the populace, slowly making as much trouble as possible.
It was when he left those lands that he found himself here, having stepped through a portal. Ever practical, the man did as best as he could here.
The Golden Man, Vestige (of a god), Wizard (20) Sorceror (20) Archmage (20) any other arcane class you can think of (20), Control over nearly any magic you care to name.
appears as a slim man wielding a rapier, with pure Red eyes and a noble bearing.
Heh. A nice place. Have I been here before? Probably. I've been everywhere else, after all... Walking up to the sign-in sheet, Nemecyst writes his name in a burning red ink.
Gnal was an ordinary Half-Orc Beserker, before he was cast out into the desert for 90 years. during his travels there, he found a strange chain apparently made of pure obsidian. The chain became bound to him-completely unbreakable, he is immortal while he bears it. He now is over 5000 years old, has mastered every martial class, and is almost unbeatable. He has a huge amount of magical items contained in the pouch hanging on the pants which are his sole clothing, and knows how to use them all. He uses his chain as a weapon. He came here because he found that the greatest warriors in the multiverse fight here, and because he heard the beer was good.
He seems to be a living statue of stone. he is shaped like a knight but twice the normal size, and is almost indestructable. thats it.