Welcome to Hero Artisan #2, the 4e contest where you make a character and get it voted on according to all its facets by our judges, to see who can make the best character! This time our chosen theme is redemption.
The required level for this competition is 12th level. You're permitted to spend 48,000 gp on your equipment; you may purchase any combination of items you wish, though you may not purchase any items above level 13. As per page 143 of the DMG, you're permitted whatever standard adventuring gear you'd like without having to purchase it from your net worth. So, for example, if you want a backpack or bedroll, just write it on your character sheet and don't worry about the cost.
The following section contains the specific rules of the competition, as well as the standards for how the characters will be scored, and general tips to consider when creating a submission.
The Rules
Contest Rules
The following are rules for the Hero Artisan competition, and are subject to change at any time between competition periods. Do note that the Code of Conduct is in effect for all aspects of this contest, and those who break it will be disqualified, and their post will be reported.
Character Creation Parameters
Character Level: 12th
Ability Score Generation: Customized Scores Method (found on pages 17-18 of the PHB)
Character Wealth: 48,000 gp
Max. Value of any single item: 13th level
1) All entries must be submitted with a complete stat block of any format or length, (so long as the stat block is complete, including content like equipment, skills, powers, etc.) accompanied by a character background also of any format or length.
2) All entries must be submitted by the date and time given by the Coordinating Judge; any entries submitted late will not be judged but they are still allowed to be commented on by other users/judges, and may provide a valuable resource to other players out there. The time given for any competition is likely to be within 2-3 weeks; the exact times and dates will be stated by the Coordinating Judge during the contest's start.
3) After submitting an entry, a 30-minute grace period is allowed to edit your work, in the case of mechanical or formatting errors, typos, and the like. Editing your work after 30 minutes is considered breaking the rules. Hence, we urge you to revise your entry thoroughly prior to submitting it, to save hassle. Making use of the preview button in the post window will help you catch most errors before posting.
4) One entry per contestant, and that creator must be the submitter (meaning that all work has to be original, and not stolen from someone else.) Also, do not post an entry if you do not want it to be officially judged.
5) At the start of each competition, the coordinating judge will state a single theme around which to base your entry. There are no restrictions based on the character theme itself; it is merely a suggested guideline, but following it in a creative and interesting way will give merit to your entry.
6) Any material from the following sources is permitted for this contest: Player's Handbook, Monster Manual, Dungeon Master's Guide, Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting, Forgotten Realms Player's Guide, Martial Power, Adventurer's Vault, Draconomicon, and Open Graves. You are allowed to build characters with non-standard races, including monster races from the MM. Any other sources -- including D&DI, free web enhancements, and third party material -- are not permitted this time around.
In addition, you are welcome to use any homebrew material - anything from inventing a city or country name to reflavoring an existing power and even, should you choose, writing your own class or race. A few things to keep in mind on this point, though. First and foremost, you must be the creator of this material. Please do not use homebrewed material invented by others (for example, using a race that somebody else posted to the forums). Doing so will result in your entry being disqualified from the content. Second, your entire entry will be judged. So, for example, if you create a new paragon path for your rogue to follow, that path will be judged along with your character -- both the flavor and mechanics. If the judges find your paragon path to be poorly balanced, you'll receive a lower Rules Use score.
7) Judges reserve the right to disqualify entries that do not follow the above rules, as they see fit.
The following are rules for the Hero Artisan competition, and are subject to change at any time between competition periods. Do note that the Code of Conduct is in effect for all aspects of this contest, and those who break it will be disqualified, and their post will be reported.
Character Creation Parameters
Character Level: 12th
Ability Score Generation: Customized Scores Method (found on pages 17-18 of the PHB)
Character Wealth: 48,000 gp
Max. Value of any single item: 13th level
1) All entries must be submitted with a complete stat block of any format or length, (so long as the stat block is complete, including content like equipment, skills, powers, etc.) accompanied by a character background also of any format or length.
2) All entries must be submitted by the date and time given by the Coordinating Judge; any entries submitted late will not be judged but they are still allowed to be commented on by other users/judges, and may provide a valuable resource to other players out there. The time given for any competition is likely to be within 2-3 weeks; the exact times and dates will be stated by the Coordinating Judge during the contest's start.
3) After submitting an entry, a 30-minute grace period is allowed to edit your work, in the case of mechanical or formatting errors, typos, and the like. Editing your work after 30 minutes is considered breaking the rules. Hence, we urge you to revise your entry thoroughly prior to submitting it, to save hassle. Making use of the preview button in the post window will help you catch most errors before posting.
4) One entry per contestant, and that creator must be the submitter (meaning that all work has to be original, and not stolen from someone else.) Also, do not post an entry if you do not want it to be officially judged.
5) At the start of each competition, the coordinating judge will state a single theme around which to base your entry. There are no restrictions based on the character theme itself; it is merely a suggested guideline, but following it in a creative and interesting way will give merit to your entry.
6) Any material from the following sources is permitted for this contest: Player's Handbook, Monster Manual, Dungeon Master's Guide, Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting, Forgotten Realms Player's Guide, Martial Power, Adventurer's Vault, Draconomicon, and Open Graves. You are allowed to build characters with non-standard races, including monster races from the MM. Any other sources -- including D&DI, free web enhancements, and third party material -- are not permitted this time around.
In addition, you are welcome to use any homebrew material - anything from inventing a city or country name to reflavoring an existing power and even, should you choose, writing your own class or race. A few things to keep in mind on this point, though. First and foremost, you must be the creator of this material. Please do not use homebrewed material invented by others (for example, using a race that somebody else posted to the forums). Doing so will result in your entry being disqualified from the content. Second, your entire entry will be judged. So, for example, if you create a new paragon path for your rogue to follow, that path will be judged along with your character -- both the flavor and mechanics. If the judges find your paragon path to be poorly balanced, you'll receive a lower Rules Use score.
7) Judges reserve the right to disqualify entries that do not follow the above rules, as they see fit.
- Hrothgan, by Half_Dragon_Infernal
- Nokturn, by mouthymerc
- Margot Velliers, by Nani?
- Temen of Gloomwrought, by Lord_Ventnor
- Alvasha, by Nyarlathotep
- Besh "the Scourge of Teleric Vale", by swgeek77
- Anya Goldenheart / Kailirae, by tylara67 (disqualified for late edit)
- Wamp Skudder, by Kolsus_Hayl
- Baron Banehallow, by Veok
- Urog Bra-Oza, by boj0
- Dashel Chambers, by UMCorian
- Jack (Intern of the Raven Queen), by Dragoncat
I want to take a moment to point out a few changes.
In addition, you are welcome to use any homebrew material - anything from inventing a city or country name to reflavoring an existing power and even, should you choose, writing your own class or race. A few things to keep in mind on this point, though. First and foremost, you must be the creator of this material. Please do not use homebrewed material invented by others (for example, using a race that somebody else posted to the forums). Doing so will result in your entry being disqualified from the content. Second, your entire entry will be judged. So, for example, if you create a new paragon path for your rogue to follow, that path will be judged along with your character -- both the flavor and mechanics. If the judges find your paragon path to be poorly balanced, you'll receive a lower Rules Use score.
This paragraph is new. We want to avoid what happened last time when the vague wording of "you can use homebrewed material" lead to a contestant using somebody else's material.
Any homebrew material must be your creation, and will be considered by the judges when determining your overall score.
Citing sources outside the "core" three books goes a long way to helping the judges verify your information, and is likely to help your clarity score, at least a little bit.
Help the judges out. They do a lot of work to verify your character. Citing your sources makes that job easier, which makes them happier. You want happy judges, don't you? ;)
As always, if you have any questions please ask. We'll be happy to give you an answer (and hopefully, a right answer too!
).Alright, character, I'm gonna build you and there's nothing you can do about it!
Edit: Oddric could totally seek redemption. :P
Question: Will entries that have been submitted to the Hero Craftsman (3E) competitions be considered during judging if they are re-placed here? Or will they be considered completely unique? (e.g. No deduction in points for creativity)
I would think you'd be giving up all the Rules Use points, unless you re-stat it for 4e.
Or, wait, did they improve the beta version of the official wizard character creator yet? I'ma check up on that first thing then.
Or, wait, did they improve the beta version of the official wizard character creator yet? I'ma check up on that first thing then.
They have it in the full version now, and that's probably wht I am going to use for the "crunchy" part of building my character.
If you google D&D 4e character Generator, this is the first hit. I don't trust it completely and implicitly, but it does seem to be fairly accurate, and helps me get my thoughts down on paper.
I was using it and I got through the "crunch" in record time. Thanks. I should be up with my character either today or tomorrow. I also copied your formatting from the last competition. So thanks.
All the Best,
Nani?
Hrothgan
Gnoll, Staff Wizard 12
“I am no savage!”
Physical Description:
Hrothgan is a tall, lanky gnoll with fur that seems to be patterned with strange symbols. He is often seen wielding a longsword in his right hand and a staff in his left, for he often likes to charge in to the middle of a battle swinging his longsword and howling, then devastating the nearby opponents with close spells. In cities he uses Disguise Self to appear as an old man, and often keeps his robe tight around him.
Personality:
Hrothgan is defensive about his past, and anyone who asks often receives a blow from his staff. To those that befriend, he is a fierce and loyal companion, willing to die defending them. In cities under the disguise, he talks little and occasionally offers various pieces of information.
History:
Hrothgan was initially the main apprentice of a gnoll warlock leading a pack of gnolls around raiding and pillaging, but was mostly just interested in destructive magics, and not demonic ones. When his master was slain by a glabrezu demon he summoned, he ran away, watching from a distance as the demon took control of his pack’s minds. He disguised himself using magic as an old man, and joined a party of adventurers to escape his past. Now he seeks to aid his allies so that way they may one day help him destroy the glabrezu controlling his tribe.
Ally and Enemy:
Ally Name: Thalanis, Eladrin Warlord 12; Thalanis is the leader of the party, and encourages Hrothgan to even greater deeds of bravery. Limar Bitterleaf Rogue 12; Limar doesn’t trust the gnoll, and must be coaxed into doing something with Hrothgan. Barais Silverdawn Ranger 12; Barais isn’t sure whether to trust Hrothgan or not, but would be willing to save him. Jormund Ironshield Fighter 12; Jormund sees Hrothgan as another friend to protect, and stalwartly stands by his side.
Enemy Name: Iglatar the Corruptor. Iglatar is the Glabrezu who controls the pack, and uses his gnoll minions to raid and dominate villages.
Stats:
Gnoll, Wizard/Swordmage/Wizard of the Spiral Tower 12
Good
Staff Implement Mastery
Racial Power:
Ferocious Charge
FINAL ABILITY SCORES (scores before racial and level increases in parentheses)
Str 12 (11), Con 19 (14), Dex 15 (12), Int 19 (16), Wis 16 (15), Cha 9 (8)
DEFENSES
AC: 24 Fort: 21 Reflex: 22 Will: 22 (Staff Mastery and Shield may change these numbers)
HP: 73 Surges: 10 Surge Value: 18
TRAINED SKILLS (Modifier [Sources])
Arcana (+15 [+4 Ability, +5 Training, +6 Half Level])
History (+15 [+4 Ability, +5 Training, +6 Half Level])
Insight (+14 [+3 Ability, +5 Training, +6 Half Level])
Nature (+15 [+4 Ability, +5 Training, +6 Half Level])
FEATS
1: Leather Armor Proficiency
2: Swordmage Multiclass
4: Intelligent Blademaster
6: Toughness
8: Durable
10: Longsword Proficiency
11: Arcane Reach
12: Resounding Thunder
POWERS (Primary means that is usually prepared that day)
1. At-Will: Thunderwave
1. At-Will: Cloud of Daggers
1. Encounter: Burning Hands
1. Daily: Flaming Sphere (Primary), Sleep
2. Utility: Expeditious Retreat, Shield (Primary)
3. Encounter: Color Spray
5. Daily: Stinking Cloud, Web (Primary)
6. Utility: Dimension Door (Primary), Disguise Self (On any day inside towns)
7. Encounter: Spectral Ram
9. Daily: Mordenkains Sword, Wall of Fire (Primary)
10. Utility: Arcane Gate, Blur (Primary)
11. Encounter: The One Sword
12. Utility: Shape the Dream
ITEMS
Armor: +3 Breaching Drowmesh Leather Armor (AV 7 and 43, 17,000 gp)
Main hand: +3 Cloaked Longsword (AV 66, 17,000 gp)
Off Hand: +1 Defensive Staff (AV 104, 520 gp)
Neck: +3 Amulet of Protection (PHB 249, 9,000 gp)
Waist: Stalwart Belt (AV 167, 1,800 gp)
Feet: Rushing Cleats (AV 130, 2,600 gp)
Belt: Flint and Steel, Potion of Clarity, and 30 gp.
Backpack: Bedroll, Everburning Torch, Trail Rations (10 days), Hempen Rope (50 feet), Sunrods (2), Waterskin.
Personality
Nokturn is a dour individual. Having been raised as a slave of the Drow, he is accustomed to hardship and fighting for his survival. He tends to remain in the background as much as possible so as not to stand out. This has not changed much since becoming a Raven Herald. Nokturn is, though, interested in the world now that he has become exposed to it and does try new things here and there in order to gain new experiences.
Mannerisms & Appearance
With scales of dark blue, Nokturn does not look like most dragonborn. He seems almost adapted to his like in the Underdark. He tends to more suppleness than most dragonborn, which suits his shifty nature. Nokturn tends to be skittish around authority figures due to his years of slavery. This tends to disappear quickly, though, when faced with any form of slavery. Having escaped his own, he has become a proponent against it in any form.
Background
Taken as a hatchling by a Drow raiding party, Nokturn was raised as a slave amongst them. From a very early age he needed to be able to use all his skills to keep himself alive. This meant, for the most part, abandoning any sense of honor for the most part, something almost anathema to most dragonborn.
Nokturn became very adept at staying in the background or the shadows and getting what he needed. When these skills became apparent to his masters, they began using him when scouting in the Underdark. Using threats and intimidation, they kept him in line for a while, but he was always looking for an opportunity to be free.
His chance came after a fairly horrific encounter with a particularly nasty Underdark creature. Nokturn took advantage of the fact that most of his party was either dead or dying and escaped to the surface. Once there, he wandered for a while and survived with his roguish skills.
Nokturn's sense of honor, though, while fairly diminished, was still intact. He began to realize that he could not go through life taking what he needs without being accountable, but knew nothing else because of his earlier life. It was at this point that he met Oscer, a paladin of the Raven Queen.
Oscer exposed Nokturn to the teachings of the Raven Queen and he found a purpose. More specifically, he would teach the proud the folly of their hubris. His skills lend himself well to such a course and he has taken well to such a calling. He especially likes it when he has to deal with any of the haughty Drow.
Nokturn hopes to regain whatever vestiges of honor he can by taking down those that would take away honor and dignity from others. He has found a way to do so through following the Raven Queen.
====== Created Using Wizards of the Coast D&DI Character Builder ======
Nokturn, level 12
Dragonborn, Rogue, Raven Herald (p.97, Martial Power)
Build: Brawny Rogue
Rogue Tactics: Brutal Scoundrel
Background: Fugitive from a Vengeful Rival (Scales of War article, Dragon Magazine #366)
FINAL ABILITY SCORES
Str 18, Con 13, Dex 19, Int 12, Wis 12, Cha 16.
Starting Ability Scores
Str 14, Con 12, Dex 16, Int 11, Wis 10, Cha 13.
AC: 25 Fort: 20 Reflex: 22 Will: 20
HP: 80 Surges: 7 Surge Value: 21
TRAINED SKILLS
Stealth, Thievery, Intimidate, Perception, Athletics, Dungeoneering, Religion.
FEATS
1: Dragonborn Senses
2: Dirty Fighting (p.133, Martial Power)
4: Backstabber
6: Broken Shackles (Forgotton Realms Players Guide)
8: Weapon Proficiency (Kukri) (p. 9-10, Adventurer's Vault)
10: Brutal Wound (p.133' Martial Power)
11: Nimble Blade
12: Defensive Advantage
POWERS
1, At-Will: Riposte Strike
1, At-Will: Sly Flourish
1, Encounter: Guarded Attack (p. 73, Martial Power)
1, Daily: Pommel Smash (p.74, Martial Power)
2, Utility: Adaptable Flanker (p.74, Martial Power)
3, Encounter: Topple Over
5, Daily: Staggering Assault (p.76, Martial Power)
6, Utility: Threatening Glare (p.77, Martial Power)
7, Encounter: Imperiling Strike
9, Daily: Not Worth My Time (p.79, Martial Power)
10, Utility: Gap in the Armor (p.80, Martial Power)
ITEMS
Adventurer's Kit, Thieves' Tools, Climber's Kit, Cloaked Kukri +3 (17,000 gp, p.66, Adventurer's Vault), Jagged Dagger +3 (13,000 gp, p.71, Adventurer's Vault), Feytouched Drowmesh +3 (13,000 gp, p.6-7, Adventurer's Vault, p.152, Manual of the Planes), Gloves of Storing (heroic tier) (4,200 gp, p.134, Adventurer's Vault), Gentle Repose (50 gp), Corpse Light (100 gp, p.49, Open Grave), Last Sight Vision (100 gp, p.50, Open Grave), Hand of Fate (175 gp), Speak with Dead (360 gp), Ritual Book, Holy Symbol
====== Created Using Wizards of the Coast D&DI Character Builder ======
Not For Judges Eyes
Backgrounds aren't allowed from Dragon.
Backgrounds aren't allowed from Dragon.
I also copied your formatting from the last competition.
I see great wisdom in this one. Flattery will get you far.
Show
“I am Henri of the house of Va’Vrin. You know what my family can do. You know what I can do. You will release me.”
“No, we will not,” the tree whispered. “Not until you make a pact.”
“I make no pact with you. When I am free, me and mine will cut you down.”
“You are encased within us,” the leaves rustled. “We have time.”
The Huntsman’s Club is an institution among the young bucks of the Issurian Aristocracy. It is not official, though most of the noblemen have been members at one time or another. Their sons and heirs run it. Its existence is never acknowledged. Its crimes are never prosecuted. After all, no crimes are committed. A noble after all, may command perfect obedience from his inferiors and if they refuse to obey, the crime is with them. It serves two important functions for the upper class.
First, those noble scions that do not embrace its activities are seen as “not having the spirit” needed to run the government and are frozen out of office…unless their troublesome attitudes warrant elimination. True, some members suffer unfortunate accidents while pursuing the club’s activities. Again the unworthy for high office are eliminated.
Time had passed since Henri had been encased. The leaves of the tree had fallen and snow covered the earth and turned green again.
Once, he had seen searchers. He had wanted to cry out…but could not. In the end, no one had come for Henri.
Henri felt the sap coursing through him, along with the blood. He felt his heart beating slowly. He felt his belongings being rejected, passing through him and then expunged. Bits of cloth hung on the branches. Rusted metal sat upon the ground in front of the tree.
He longed to return home, yet home seemed so far away. Perhaps…with so much sap in him the tree would not notice.
He tried to move.
“You must make a pact.”
Secondly, the club teaches commoners the importance of obedience. Those who are disobedient, for example, unable to pay their taxes, are visited more often by the club. Of course, everyone should expect to “be reminded of their proper place in the order of things,” on occasion. You see, the club’s sole purpose is to allow the young bucks to sample the “fair nymphs” of the lower classes. Should some young maiden resist, “just so much more sport.”
Henri Va’Vrin was once a leading light, if light was proper term, of the Huntsman’s Club. He pursued the club’s activities with passion. Was willing to discipline it’s members, and had an eye for the pretty ladies. He also had a “sporting streak” that set him above the common members. You see, with every conquest he left a parting gift; 50 freshly minted gp. This was the cost of one year’s dues to the Issurian prostitute’s guild. One thing he always looked forward to was the Spring Hunt. The rural environs in which it was held tended to produce maidens more likely to resist. Henri liked resistance.
This year, it was being held in Merere Village, on the outskirts of Anitch Forest. There were rumored to be gates to the Feywild in the Anitich. There were said to be pools of water that would transform you into an animal and stories of woodsmen who left home in the morning and returned in the evening old men. Such stories were to add spice to the hunt. A modern, city bred gentleman worthy of the name would not believe such superstitious nonsense.
Henri or once what had been swayed in the wind. It had been many years since his absorption. The world of men seemed so far off. It felt good to let the rain pat the bark that covered him.
“It is time to make a pact,” the tree whispered.
“Why must I make a pact?” Henri asked, vaguely curious. For some reason not making a pact seemed important once upon a time.
“Why now?” In truth, the world outside the tree seemed strange.
“It is time. Without the pact you will not learn what you need to learn.” Henri felt the tree moving its wood from Henri. Slowly, Henri knew it was being pushed from the tree.
“I will make the pact.” Henri knew that the tree knew Henri was ready.
Henri, felt the cool air on his skin. He opened his eyes and marveled at how bright the world was. Energy coursed through Henri. Henri tumbled to the ground, wondering how much lighter he seemed.
Then Henri forgot…everything.
The first maiden of the hunt was a shepardess. She had seen them and ran into the forest Henri and his friend Martin would had her cornered had Martin not been knocked down by a low lying branch of a tree. As he closed upon his victim, she huddled beneath a large oak. Trapped, she had nowhere to go. He closed. Then suddenly branches surrounded him. They seemed to grab his arms as he rose into the air. Below him, he saw the girl cursing him. He closed his eyes for a moment as he bashed into the tree, only, instead of hardwood, he seemed to merge with the tree being surrounded. He tried to shout his curses, but to no avail.
Henri merged with the tree, and stayed trapped a very long time.
Margot laughed as mama poured water over her. She shook, felt the cloth towel cover her. She smiled at mama, who was drying her, then laughed again as she tickled her. This was her weekly bath. Tomorrow would be work again. On a farm there was always work.
Margot was adopted into the Velliers family when she was found at the base of the oak. She was the youngest of six children on a farm.
Margot laughed a lot and the village children seemed to follow her lead, for she was very clever, though not always wise. They played on the edge of the forest bandit and knight, goblins, elves and orcs, all sorts of things.
Once, when they came to a giant oak tree, Simone, a girl about her age told her that Margot had been found in front of the tree and had been adopted by her parents. Margot had laughed. Still, the tree seemed familiar.
In time she began to note little things. She grew up more slowly then the other girls. She could see better in the dark and her ears had a slight point. Her long chestnut hair was delicate, like cornsilk. Nobody else’s hair was so fine. Yea, there were whispers about her and rumors, but nothing she could not dismiss with a joke.
Her world changed when she was about sixteen (through she looked more like thirteen) and the Huntsman’s Club came once again to Merere Village. It was a surprise and she was out slaughtering hogs when four huntsmen showed in the pen she doing her work in.
Though she hadn’t planned it the hog kept them from seeing that she had a weapon. When the first who approached her soon found a sickle into his chest. As he lay twitching on the ground two drew weapons as the other comforted his friend. Within a moment and a word another was dead and in a second a third fell. The young boy stared in abject terror at his companions. When he asked for mercy, she pulled out the sickle from his injured friend, so that he would bleed out quicker.
At that moment Margot remembered being Henri. She stared at the boy who had comforted his dying friend.
She was ashamed and disgusted and shocked.
She asked if this was the boy’s first hunt. He nodded.
“Are you a virgin,” she asked.
“Uh….ye—yes…Mademoiselle,” he answered, pale yet very polite. He looked not more then thirteen or fourteen himself.
“Stay that way for a while longer.” He stumbled, stuttered something as he, got up and ran for his life. She stood stunned, by what she had done.
Then she knew of the pact she had made. She knew the price of her freedom. She was no longer Henri. On the other hand she still had the charisma that caused his memory to live. The way she had bullied the young boy was so much like Henri. Yet now she was a girl, if act in a few years she would be their ideal victim (not that she wasn’t a target now) and the thought of what he’d done horrified her.
Over time she would found out more. Henri was something of a legend. His custom of “tipping” his victims was now the custom of the Huntsman’s Club. There was portrait of him. There was even a legend that a nymph had been so impressed with his performance that she had kept him. Such tales were used to inspire future generations.
Yet…Henri was her.
She went into the settlement where she, Margot had grown up and chased out or killed those Huntsmen who had come to commit crimes. Sometimes she was in time. Sometimes she was not. She got to see those consequences of that up close as well.
With the scions of six noble families slain, the people of the Merere village fled to other towns, moving in with relatives and friends so that they would not be easy targets themselves. Her home was again no more.
As for Margot, she knew the Huntsman’s Club. She knew their patterns, their behaviors. She also knew what she must do. She went to the capital, where the most of the Huntsman’s club membership could be found.
She and her allies have since began to deal with the Huntsmen, either by killing the more brutalized, older members or by intimidating its younger members. Needless to say, she is hunted. This has led her to flee the capital recently, retreating into Anitch Forest. Still she will not quit until Henri’s legacy is undone and the aristocracy learns its place…or is removed.
“I am Henri of the house of Va’Vrin. You know what my family can do. You know what I can do. You will release me.”
“No, we will not,” the tree whispered. “Not until you make a pact.”
“I make no pact with you. When I am free, me and mine will cut you down.”
“You are encased within us,” the leaves rustled. “We have time.”
The Huntsman’s Club is an institution among the young bucks of the Issurian Aristocracy. It is not official, though most of the noblemen have been members at one time or another. Their sons and heirs run it. Its existence is never acknowledged. Its crimes are never prosecuted. After all, no crimes are committed. A noble after all, may command perfect obedience from his inferiors and if they refuse to obey, the crime is with them. It serves two important functions for the upper class.
First, those noble scions that do not embrace its activities are seen as “not having the spirit” needed to run the government and are frozen out of office…unless their troublesome attitudes warrant elimination. True, some members suffer unfortunate accidents while pursuing the club’s activities. Again the unworthy for high office are eliminated.
Time had passed since Henri had been encased. The leaves of the tree had fallen and snow covered the earth and turned green again.
Once, he had seen searchers. He had wanted to cry out…but could not. In the end, no one had come for Henri.
Henri felt the sap coursing through him, along with the blood. He felt his heart beating slowly. He felt his belongings being rejected, passing through him and then expunged. Bits of cloth hung on the branches. Rusted metal sat upon the ground in front of the tree.
He longed to return home, yet home seemed so far away. Perhaps…with so much sap in him the tree would not notice.
He tried to move.
“You must make a pact.”
Secondly, the club teaches commoners the importance of obedience. Those who are disobedient, for example, unable to pay their taxes, are visited more often by the club. Of course, everyone should expect to “be reminded of their proper place in the order of things,” on occasion. You see, the club’s sole purpose is to allow the young bucks to sample the “fair nymphs” of the lower classes. Should some young maiden resist, “just so much more sport.”
Henri Va’Vrin was once a leading light, if light was proper term, of the Huntsman’s Club. He pursued the club’s activities with passion. Was willing to discipline it’s members, and had an eye for the pretty ladies. He also had a “sporting streak” that set him above the common members. You see, with every conquest he left a parting gift; 50 freshly minted gp. This was the cost of one year’s dues to the Issurian prostitute’s guild. One thing he always looked forward to was the Spring Hunt. The rural environs in which it was held tended to produce maidens more likely to resist. Henri liked resistance.
This year, it was being held in Merere Village, on the outskirts of Anitch Forest. There were rumored to be gates to the Feywild in the Anitich. There were said to be pools of water that would transform you into an animal and stories of woodsmen who left home in the morning and returned in the evening old men. Such stories were to add spice to the hunt. A modern, city bred gentleman worthy of the name would not believe such superstitious nonsense.
Henri or once what had been swayed in the wind. It had been many years since his absorption. The world of men seemed so far off. It felt good to let the rain pat the bark that covered him.
“It is time to make a pact,” the tree whispered.
“Why must I make a pact?” Henri asked, vaguely curious. For some reason not making a pact seemed important once upon a time.
“Why now?” In truth, the world outside the tree seemed strange.
“It is time. Without the pact you will not learn what you need to learn.” Henri felt the tree moving its wood from Henri. Slowly, Henri knew it was being pushed from the tree.
“I will make the pact.” Henri knew that the tree knew Henri was ready.
Henri, felt the cool air on his skin. He opened his eyes and marveled at how bright the world was. Energy coursed through Henri. Henri tumbled to the ground, wondering how much lighter he seemed.
Then Henri forgot…everything.
The first maiden of the hunt was a shepardess. She had seen them and ran into the forest Henri and his friend Martin would had her cornered had Martin not been knocked down by a low lying branch of a tree. As he closed upon his victim, she huddled beneath a large oak. Trapped, she had nowhere to go. He closed. Then suddenly branches surrounded him. They seemed to grab his arms as he rose into the air. Below him, he saw the girl cursing him. He closed his eyes for a moment as he bashed into the tree, only, instead of hardwood, he seemed to merge with the tree being surrounded. He tried to shout his curses, but to no avail.
Henri merged with the tree, and stayed trapped a very long time.
Margot laughed as mama poured water over her. She shook, felt the cloth towel cover her. She smiled at mama, who was drying her, then laughed again as she tickled her. This was her weekly bath. Tomorrow would be work again. On a farm there was always work.
Margot was adopted into the Velliers family when she was found at the base of the oak. She was the youngest of six children on a farm.
Margot laughed a lot and the village children seemed to follow her lead, for she was very clever, though not always wise. They played on the edge of the forest bandit and knight, goblins, elves and orcs, all sorts of things.
Once, when they came to a giant oak tree, Simone, a girl about her age told her that Margot had been found in front of the tree and had been adopted by her parents. Margot had laughed. Still, the tree seemed familiar.
In time she began to note little things. She grew up more slowly then the other girls. She could see better in the dark and her ears had a slight point. Her long chestnut hair was delicate, like cornsilk. Nobody else’s hair was so fine. Yea, there were whispers about her and rumors, but nothing she could not dismiss with a joke.
Her world changed when she was about sixteen (through she looked more like thirteen) and the Huntsman’s Club came once again to Merere Village. It was a surprise and she was out slaughtering hogs when four huntsmen showed in the pen she doing her work in.
Though she hadn’t planned it the hog kept them from seeing that she had a weapon. When the first who approached her soon found a sickle into his chest. As he lay twitching on the ground two drew weapons as the other comforted his friend. Within a moment and a word another was dead and in a second a third fell. The young boy stared in abject terror at his companions. When he asked for mercy, she pulled out the sickle from his injured friend, so that he would bleed out quicker.
At that moment Margot remembered being Henri. She stared at the boy who had comforted his dying friend.
She was ashamed and disgusted and shocked.
She asked if this was the boy’s first hunt. He nodded.
“Are you a virgin,” she asked.
“Uh….ye—yes…Mademoiselle,” he answered, pale yet very polite. He looked not more then thirteen or fourteen himself.
“Stay that way for a while longer.” He stumbled, stuttered something as he, got up and ran for his life. She stood stunned, by what she had done.
Then she knew of the pact she had made. She knew the price of her freedom. She was no longer Henri. On the other hand she still had the charisma that caused his memory to live. The way she had bullied the young boy was so much like Henri. Yet now she was a girl, if act in a few years she would be their ideal victim (not that she wasn’t a target now) and the thought of what he’d done horrified her.
Over time she would found out more. Henri was something of a legend. His custom of “tipping” his victims was now the custom of the Huntsman’s Club. There was portrait of him. There was even a legend that a nymph had been so impressed with his performance that she had kept him. Such tales were used to inspire future generations.
Yet…Henri was her.
She went into the settlement where she, Margot had grown up and chased out or killed those Huntsmen who had come to commit crimes. Sometimes she was in time. Sometimes she was not. She got to see those consequences of that up close as well.
With the scions of six noble families slain, the people of the Merere village fled to other towns, moving in with relatives and friends so that they would not be easy targets themselves. Her home was again no more.
As for Margot, she knew the Huntsman’s Club. She knew their patterns, their behaviors. She also knew what she must do. She went to the capital, where the most of the Huntsman’s club membership could be found.
She and her allies have since began to deal with the Huntsmen, either by killing the more brutalized, older members or by intimidating its younger members. Needless to say, she is hunted. This has led her to flee the capital recently, retreating into Anitch Forest. Still she will not quit until Henri’s legacy is undone and the aristocracy learns its place…or is removed.
Fluff
Physical Description
Temen is indistinguishable from other Tieflings at first. His skin is a rusty red color, he possesses straight, shoulder-length black hair that he does nothing with, and he stands at about 6’3”. His eyes, though, are a different story. They’re an odd metallic blue color, and when one looks into them, its as if one can see the sadness of 1,000 lifetimes manifest within them.
He favors plain-looking dark clothing, although he prefers dark blues and grays to straight-out black. His usual outfit consists of an unadorned bluish-gray tunic which is worn over his armor, along with gray trousers. He also wears dark leather gloves and boots. About the only jewelry he carries on him is a small medallion, engraved with the symbol of the Raven Queen on it.
His weapon is a plain-looking, thin-bladed sword he’s named Soulsaver. Attached to Soulsaver’s hilt is a stone, which has been consecrated in the inner sanctum of Letherna, and it is through this blade that Temen can focus his magic. He shield has a single snowflake engraved on it, another, more subtle way he venerates the only one who has ever given him a second chance.
Personality
Temen always has to be doing something, whether it is reading a book, arguing with a teammate over something, provoking a fight, or something else. Temen has had very long time to brood, and it is an activity which he does not like to do, as it generally leads to the dredging up of past memories, something which Temen does not like at all.
Temen believes that most beings can be rehabilitated if they have sinned. It’s something he has to believe in, since he truly wants to think that someday he can redeem himself. As such, he’s generally supportive of his teammates, and will not judge them too harshly: next to what he’s done in the past, stuff that most do generally doesn’t compare.
This belief that others can change is also a weakness of his; even if he knows that it will be futile in the end, he’ll try until the very last minute to try an get the irredeemably evil lich to save his soul, or to try and get a devil on the opposing side to see the light.
History
Temen of Gloomwrought’s “official” history is rather simplistic. He grew up in the Shadowfell metropolis of Gloomwrought, and always had a talent for channeling magic. He continued training until at last he entered the ranks of the paladins dedicated to the Raven Queen, dedicating his life to fighting in her name.
Temen’s actual story is much longer, and much bloodier. He began his life as the mighty angel Temenethes, fighting alongside the gods towards the end of the Primordial War. He was gifted and powerful, and though young, still managed to distinguish himself on the field of battle. His talent did not go unnoticed, much to his misfortune.
Temenethes was approached by the archangel Asmodeus after the war concluded, and was seduced by the deceiver’s promises of power. However, this was not to be, as Temenethes was thrown down into Baator with the rest of the rebellious angels not long after Asmodeus committed his foul deed.
It took a while for Temenethes to contemplate the enormity of the atrocity he had helped commit, and it sickened him. The further behavior of the devils around him continued to enrage him, although the final straw was when the devils began to use mortal souls to power their fell magic. Temenethes confronted Asmodeus, and tried to challenge him, so that he could end the evil workings of Baator, and possibly redeem himself just a little for having helped to create it. The Lord of Nessus had grown to become a diety in his own right by then, and the battle was one-sided. After easily defeating Temenethes, Asmodeus performed a fell ritual that stripped the devil of his former power, and condemned him for an eternity of torture for daring to defy him.
Temenethes spent centuries in agony, until at last, one of the devils in charge of keeping up the torture made a mistake, and killed Temenethes. His soul escaped from Hell, and flew to the Shadowfell, specifically to the Raven Queen’s realm of Letherna. By then, the millennia of torment had rent Temenethes hopeless, despairing at ever being able to redeem himself.
It caught him by surprise when the Raven Queen gave him a second chance. When many other deities would have been content to let him rot away the rest of time, the pragmatic Raven Queen had found a golden opportunity. She had found a being who knew how the hells utilized mortal souls; souls that should have otherwise passed into her dominion. The Raven Queen offered Temenethes the chance to regain his former powers, in return for helping to take down the infernal machines in hell that kept mortal souls from passing into the great beyond like they should.
Temenethes agreed, and was anointed as a Paladin, the ritual allowing him to recover some of his old power. The Raven Queen then released him into Gloomwrought, where he assumed the alias of Temen. He has since been training to recover his former powers, as well as gathering allies to help him travel into Baator again, so that he can see his monumental task through.
Allies
Dachmannan is an Angel of Vengeance in the service of the Raven Queen, and the one who performed the ritual to help Temen recover his powers. Although at first skeptical of trusting a former devil, Dachmannan has since seen that Temen is sincere in his wish to reform. He will occasionally appear in Temen’s dreams to give Temen clues and hints about how to next proceed.
Gentenk is a Shadar-Kai innkeeper in the city of Gloomwrought. The first day after Temen began his mission, he stayed in Gentenk’s inn, and was able to run out some rabble-rousers who had threatened the innkeeper on several occasions. While not exactly a friend, Gentenk would probably give Temen and his group a discount on a room, and some information if they were ever to travel to the Shadowfell.
Antagonist
Vartaaz is a Pit Fiend, and was Temen’s direct superior during the Primordial War and later during the rebellion. Temenethes attacked and defeated Vartaaz during his brief uprising, and Vartaaz was humiliated by that, and would often return to personally supervise Temenethes’ torture. If he were to learn of Temen’s “resurrection,” it would give him no greater pleasure than to fight Temen, and defeat him once and for all.
Crunch
Temen of Gloomwrought (Temenethes)
Tiefling Paladin/Paragon Warlock Lv. 12
Ability Scores:
STR: 11 (+0)
CON: 16 (+3)
DEX: 9 (-1)
INT: 16 (+3)
WIS: 16 (+3)
CHA: 21 (+5)
Defenses:
AC: 31 [10 (start) + 6 (1/2 level) + 10 (Gith Plate) + 3 (Armor Enchantment) + 2 (Heavy Shield)]
Fortitude: 23 [10 (start) + 6 (1/2 level) +3 (Constitution) +2 (Shoulders) +1 (Paladin) +1 (Scion of the Gods)]
Reflex: 24 [10 (start) + 6 (1/2 level) + 3 (Intelligence) + 2 (Heavy Shield) + 2 (Shoulders) +1 Paladin)]
Will: 25 [10 (start) + 6 (1/2 level) + 5 (Charisma) + 2 (Shoulders) + 1 (Paladin) + 1 (Scion of the Gods)]
Resistances: 11 Fire
Hit Points:
Full: 97
Bloodied: 48
Healing Surge Value: 24
# of Surges/day: 13
Powers:
Melee Basic Attack: (With Pact Rapier) +12 vs. AC / 1d8+3
Enfeebling Strike: (With Pact Rapier) +17 vs. AC / 1d8+8
Eldritch Blast: (With Pact Rapier) +14 vs. Reflex / 1d10+3
At-Will: Enfeebling Strike (Lv. 1), Eldritch Blast (Paragon Multiclassing)
Encounter: Shielding Smite (Lv. 1), Your Delicious Weakness (Novice Power), Divine Reverence (Lv. 7),
Upsetting Onslaught (Paragon Multiclassing), Spiteful Glamour (Pact Initiate)
Daily: Radiant Delirium (Lv. 1), Forceful Assault (Adept Power), Crown of Glory (Lv. 9)
Utility: Ethereal Stride (Acolyte Power), Wrath of the Gods (Lv. 6), Turn the Tide (Lv. 10),
Shielding Shades (Paragon Multiclassing)
Feats
01.) Pact Initiate (Dark Pact) [PHB, FRPG]
02.) Weapon Proficiency (Rapier) [PHB]
04.) Novice Power (Your Delicious Weakness) [PHB, FRPG]
06.) Scion of the Gods [FRPG]
08.) Acolyte Power [PHB]
10.) Adept Power (Forceful Assault) [PHB, FRPG]
11.) Fiery Rebuke [PHB]
12.) Linguist (Dwarven, Giant, Supernal) [PHB]
Details:
Languages: Common, Goblin, Dwarven, Giant, Supernal
Racial Features: +2 Bluff, +2 Stealth, Bloodhunt, Fire Resistance, Infernal Wrath
Trained Skills: Endurance, History, Intimidate, Religion
Class Features: Channel Divinity, Divine Challenge, Lay on Hands
Items:
Weapon: +3 Pact Rapier [PHB, 17,000 GP]
Implement: +3 Symbol of Power [PHB, 13,000 GP]
Armor: +3 Irrefutable Gith Plate Armor [AV, 13,000 GP]
Shoulders: +2 Medallion of Death Deferred [AV, 4,200]
Arms: Shield of Protection (Heroic) [PHB, 680 GP]
47,880 GP spent
List updated!
(sorry for the confusion
)Background
Alvasha was the scion of his clan’s proud military tradition. The youngest of five siblings, his father was the commander of a small company of human and dragonborn mercenaries known as the Firehawks and his mother was a Priestess of Bahamut who served as the company’s chaplain. Though all of his sibling grew into powerful warriors and served the Firehawks with distinction, it was apparent early on that Alvasha would surpass his brothers and sisters. His leadership skills and tactical acumen were apparent almost from the time he was old enough to hold a weapon. It was assumed by all in the company, that given a bit more field experience, he was the natural choice to succeed his father when the Old Dragon decided to step down.
That day would come sooner than he thought. The Firehawks took a contract to destroy a large band of marauding goblinoids known as the Seven Daggers tribe. Alvasha was given command of a small elite squad, which had the task of doing some reconnaissance in advance of the Firehawk main force. What he did not know was that their foes had set a cunning trap. A relatively small band of goblins and hobgoblins delayed Alvasha and his force while the main force sprung an ambush on the encamped Firehawks. With the aid of a young red dragon with which the Hobgoblins were allied, they killed every last one of the encamped Firehawks. Only Alvasha and a handful of his recon force survived and only because they were away from the main battle. The rest were dead, Alvasha found his father dead, more than twenty hobgoblin arrows jutting from his body, still grasping the spear with which he had pierced the dragon’s heart.
The surviving Firehawks numbered five. They consisted of Alvasha, His cousin Ranak who was a powerful fighter and devoted servant of Bahamut, a human ranger named Larana renowned as much for her ability to drink anyone in the company under the table as for her skill with a bow, A young human wizard named Valen who was the apprentice of one of the foremost battle mages in the kingdom and had been ‘loaned’ to the unit by his master as part of his education, and the mysterious half-elven warlock, Tal’sharee. The five swore revenge on the Seven Daggers tribe, and after months of guerilla warfare and harassment raids, they finally stormed the cave complex that the Seven Daggers used as a base and killed their leader, a powerful Hobgoblin Paladin of Bane.
With their vengeance complete, the five formed an adventuring company calling itself the Firehawks in honor of their fallen comrades. They took on many and varied foes, always with Alvasha at the forefront, leading them and keeping them going when all seemed lost. He was a brash leader, always willing to take risks but those risks always seemed to pay off, in the end.
The day came, however, when the bill came due. While trying to find an ancient book of arcane lore for an old sage, they delved deep into a forgotten tomb. At first, it seemed nothing that they couldn’t handle; wights, ghouls, skeletons, all manner of undead fell before them like wheat to a scythe. Then the tomb’s master found them, a powerful lich calling himself The Forgotten Emperor, along with a horde of undead servitors. Ranak went down first, trying to keep the hungry claws of the dead from claiming his friends. Then Valen fell to the lich’s dark magic. Alvasha ordered the survivors to fall back and as more and more undead appeared, the retreat became a rout. Larana and Tal’Sharee were caught and fell. Only Alvasha came out of that tomb alive and he ran as fast as he could from the site.
He could not deny that he felt true fear that day. His strong sense of honor could not reconcile with having survived two massacres where so many people close to him had died. If only he had fought with the rest of the original Firehawks instead of leading a recon mission, perhaps that might have tipped the scales against the Seven Daggers and his father would still be alive. If only he had been a better tactician, perhaps the remaining Firehawks would still be alive. If only he had stopped and fought the minions of the Forgotten Emperor like a true dragonborn instead of running like a coward, then at least Larana and Tal’Sharee might still live. If only…
He worked as lone mercenary leading small groups of other warriors, for a while, his brashness turning into an almost suicidal frenzy. He developed many tactics that involved drawing the enemy to himself, to distract the enemy from his fellows. Others who worked with him would sometimes remark that they didn’t know whether he wanted his unit to succeed or for himself to go down fighting. What they didn’t know is that he wanted both.
The day came that he ended up in the employ of a nobleman named Volus. Alvasha headed up Volus’ personal bodyguard and Volus became interested in the sullen mercenary when he foiled an attempt on Volus’ life by assassins. Volus somehow befriended the mercenary, and managed to find out Alvasha’s story. Moved by his tale, Volus made Alvasha an offer. Though Volus was by no means a wizard, he dabbled in the arcane a bit. Though he couldn’t raise Alvasha’s old companions from the dead, he could contact their shades and Alvasha could at least assuage his conscience somewhat by asking their forgiveness for failing them, it was all he could do. Alvasha accepted.
To his surprise, Alvasha found that his former companions did not blame him for their deaths. However, they DID want revenge, not on Alvasha but on The Forgotten Emperor. They were long dead and The Forgotten Emperor had no doubt claimed their bodies for his use. Nevertheless, their souls were intact and living in the Shadowfell. With Volus’ help, those shades could be brought back into the world, and bound to Alvasha to aid him in getting the revenge they could not get on their own. Volus performed the rituals to do this and, though he now leads another group of adventurers in Volus’ service, he can still lead the Firehawks as well, Tal’Sharee and Valen can still whisper counsel in his ear, and the ghosts of Ranak and Larana can still fight for him, in their way. The Firehawks could again be avenged and Alvasha knows the day will come when Alvasha and his Firehawks will ensure that the Forgotten Emperor will be destroyed and forgotten once more.
Stats
Alvasha, level 12
Dragonborn, Warlord, Shadow Captain
Build: Bravura Warlord
Commanding Presence: Bravura Presence
FINAL ABILITY SCORES
Str 20, Con 14, Dex 10, Int 16, Wis 11, Cha 18.
Starting Ability Scores
Str 16, Con 13, Dex 8, Int 14, Wis 10, Cha 14.
AC: 26 Fort: 26 Reflex: 23 Will: 24
HP: 91 Surges: 9 Surge Value: 24
TRAINED SKILLS (including armor penalties)
Intimidate (+17), Endurance(+12), History(+16), Athletics(+11).
FEATS
1: Bravura Spirit
2: Toughness
4: Double Team
6: Dragonborn Frenzy
8: Improved Bravura
10: Power Attack
11: Impetuous Charger
12: Devastating Critical
POWERS
1, At-Will: Wolf Pack Tactics
1, At-Will: Commander's Strike
1, Encounter: Luring Focus
1, Daily: Concentrated Attack
2, Utility: Crescendo of Violence
3, Encounter: Flattening Charge
5, Daily: Villain's Nightmare
6, Utility: Tempting Target
7, Encounter: Provoke Overextension
9, Daily: Denying Mark
10, Utility: Bolstering Shout
ITEMS
Magic Chainmail +3 (9000 gp), Bloodthirsty Spear +3 (17000 GP), Guardian Shield Light Shield (heroic tier) (5000 GP), Clasp of Noble Sacrifice +3 (13000 GP), Belt of Vim (heroic tier) (3400GP), Adventurer's Kit, 200 gp, 4 pp.
Reflavoring
The "Shadow Reconnoitering" power for his paragon path is essentially the ghosts of his former adventuring party warning him of dangers he may not be aware of. Likewise the Shadow Guardians power is actually the shades of Ranak, Larana and Tal'Sharee come to protect him, that he might avenge their deaths. Valen's shade tend to stick to an advisory role though it is the remnants of his magics that give Alvasha his Underworld Gambit power.
Personality
Alvasha seems quiet and sullen on the outside, though he becomes a berserker in combat. He is very protective of anyone he fights alongside, though and becomes a berserker if they are harmed. If there is combat he is the first to go in and if a retreat is called for he will be the last to leave. He has already lost one set of companions to what he believes to be his own cowardice, he will die before he loses another.
Gah - are you guys gonna just sit there and let the 3.5 contest have more participation!
edit: oh, look. Page two (at least for me).
On that note, I notice that Manual of the Planes isn't on the list of sources allowed for the contest; is that an oversight, or is it meant to be like that?
It was intentional - MotP never even came up in discussions of what sources to allow. *shrug*
Firk Ding Blast!!!!
I could have sworn I saw it in there.
Does that disqualify me or is it just going to make me take a major hit in some area?
Firk Ding Blast!!!!
I could have sworn I saw it in there.
Does that disqualify me or is it just going to make me take a major hit in some area?
You'll get dinged for Rules Use, but it won't completely kill your entry.
I have an entry, but it is quite wordy and verbose. What is the code for spoiler blocking something again?
The code is SBLOCK. There's two ways to use it.
[noparse]
Show
This is an sblock without a custom title.
Fluff:
Besh is believed to be a tool of the god Bane in the middle world. During a raid on an elven enclave the hobgoblin warlord Kharag Jahl recognized the auspicious markings on the elf child and took him. Jahl named the child “Besh,” the goblin word for pet. He was raised to be a weapon, trained in goblin fighting techniques by bugbears, goblins and hobgoblins, testing his skill and his endurance. He always knew he was different, no one else amongst his “brethren” looked like him, life amongst the goblins was all he knew though, and so he accepted his place as his father’s weapon against his enemies. He wasn’t the subtle blade of an assassin though; he was the cleaving blade of open warfare.
When he was of age, Besh joined in on raids. It began with subjugating nearby tribes of kobolds and orcs, even other goblins. Kharag Jahl was forming an army, join or die were the only options for those in its path. Besh grew stronger and more competent with each raid. His fullblade spelled doom for any who stood before him. It was the teaching of the god Bane that only the strong rule and he was the strong arm of Kharag Jahl. Eventually Kharag Jahl was satisfied that his army was ready. A host of twenty legions marched against the peoples of Teleric Vale. Besh stood proudly at the vanguard of the army, eager for combat.
Raiding the town of Brookhaven was the first time that Besh encountered anyone that looked like him. A young fair skinned woman stalked among the burning buildings of Brookhaven, and her bow whispered death for her quarry. He was instantly enamored with her. Then he noticed her ears, they tapered to fine points, exactly like his. For the first time his blade hesitated in combat.
An opportunity for action soon presented itself though. A pair of orcs charged the young huntress. Without hesitation he slew the orcs on the spot, cleaving both with one fell swoop. He took her by the hand, and led her across streets of carnage.
Besh’s blade rang with a merciless song of death for any who opposed him. As the two swept through the streets of Brookhaven, townsfolk began to rally behind their new savior. Backed by a contingent of guards and townsfolk Besh led a guarded retreat from the lost town.
The refugees took shelter amongst the elves of the Maze Wood. It was here that Besh found his true heritage. He was the son of the elf lord of Tangle Trees, the elven enclave of the Maze Wood. The goblins had taken the boy due to the auspicious sign’s of Bane’s touch upon the child. The elf lord had died at the hands of Kharag Jahl trying to protect his child. He was welcomed into Tangle Trees with open arms.
Feeling no connection with the elves of Tangle Trees, Besh joined a group of young warriors from the town. Together they retook Brookhaven, and led a successful attack against Kharag Jahl in his own fortress. As they fought the hobgoblin warlord his night hag consort performed a ritual to whisk the two of them away to the Feywild. Besh and his allies plan to follow them and stop his “father” once and for all.
Personality
Besh bears a mercurial temper, switching from joviality to wrathful anger in the blink of an eye. He thrills at the adrenaline of combat, and is a mobile and brutal combatant. He is a bit naïve to the ways of the world because of his cloistered upbringing. Besh knows that he is intimidating, and he uses it to his advantage. He mutters prayers to Bane, Kord, and the Raven Queen before entering combat.
I don't recall seeing either of you before, so welcome! Hope to see you again in the future, too.
With luck, you should have my entry by tonight. /crosses fingers.
Last edited by tylara67 : Yesterday at 08:48 PM. Reason: image at last!
3) After submitting an entry, a 30-minute grace period is allowed to edit your work, in the case of mechanical or formatting errors, typos, and the like. Editing your work after 30 minutes is considered breaking the rules. Hence, we urge you to revise your entry thoroughly prior to submitting it, to save hassle. Making use of the preview button in the post window will help you catch most errors before posting.
Damn, I hate this part of being coordinator. It's the absolute worst part. I'm sorry, Tylara. I need to disqualify your entry. I hope you come back for a future contest - your entry looks good. (says the guy who barely understands basic 4e rules.) Hopefully, the judges will have time to provide you some comments despite the disqualification.
Again, I hate doing this, and I'm sorry.
FLUFF
APPEARENCE
Standing against a tree, the salt and pepper haired dwarf's heavily scarred face and arms appear almost monstrous in the dying light of a campfire. On his neck, hands and shins, fierce-looking tattoos of varying quality glare, snarl, and offend. The head of an impossibly large, rune-laden hammer slung at his hip serves as an armrest for one gnarled, hairless fore-limb. Woven and braided in warrior fashion, his lank locks lay to the left, crusted with mud and some blood. His small, bright eyes, till now closed, open slowly from a peaceful dream. He moves toward the fire and rouses one of a dozen younger soldiers to take over the watch. It may have been an hour or so on the early side, but the soldier will not complain. This is his leader, the mighty and merciful captain who keeps them alive everyday, through every mission.
ORIGINS
Though they claim no single village as their home, the Skudder clan is well-known to a cluster of small towns in a far western province of a robust dwarven empire. They live in holes and hovels on the fringes of the fringes of civilization. The Skudders are known as ignorant, hard-drinking, backwoods, bellicose bumpkins, and for the most part that's true. Wamp (the infant dwarf's first 'word') was raised by an older uncle (Veet) who happened to form an attachment to him. Before leaving home, Wamp met two women who claimed to be his mother and an even dozen who claimed fatherhood...but that was normal. Uncle Veet had actually been to the provincial capitol, and it was there he sent Wamp as the young dwarf began picking fights with everyone he met. This was an expected stage in the development of a Skudder, but Wamp was a disturbingly talented brawler and overly pugnacious adolescents had been bound and thrown into the river before.
Wamp lasted a solid six months as a ditch digger before being thrown off the job. A week later he was drunk, broke and scrapping with a big farmhand in the cheapest bar in town. He woke up shirtless in a dirty room with two doors and no windows. A tall, thin, mustachioed human in a fancy robe walked in one door with a sack of coin in one hand and a pitcher of water, which he placed on a low table.
“My men saved you from the guard last night. I hear you're a fine fighter, Mr...Wamp, is it?”
“W-what?” Wamp stood.
“Through that door is another fighter. If you go through it and beat him, this coin is yours. If that's not your game, go back to the streets to find your ale money.”
Wamp stumbled toward the man, reaching for the coin, when three armored men appeared behind him, pointing longspears at his bare chest. Wamp turned, gulped water from the pitcher, and walked through the other door. His victory that night against the savage gnoll, in front of the screaming, squabbling crowd, was the first of many.
The financial and personal stakes rose as Wamp 'the champ' Skudder made his way as a prize-fighter from that western provincial capitol to the grand imperial city. The young gladiator fought for bigger purses, and he fought to the death. He killed many. He drank deeply and enjoyed the company of various escorts. Unfortunately, Wamp was also introduced to more intense intoxicants than alcohol. Lucky to avoid death in the ring, he began missing fights and was quickly struck from the roster of top-notch fighters. Even working as muscle for the local thieves guild proved difficult while strung out. Wamp was captured by the city guard while assaulting one of the guild's debtors. As a known drug addict and associate of thieves, Wamp was sentenced to twenty years, hard labor.
His first year was spent fighting to establish a reputation and detoxing from the hard drugs he'd chased for so long. The second year, Wamp kept to himself and spent long hours contemplating the lives he'd taken. In the third year, Wamp saw a prison bully roughing up a new prisoner...and something snapped. After pummeling the crap out of the bully, Wamp looked up to see 20 or so prisoners staring at him in admiration. This was the beginning of the prison's most peaceful era. Wamp and his followers made sure all the inmates knew that violence against other prisoners would not be tolerated. In his sixth year, the empire faced war on two fronts, so when the imperial army recruiters visited the prison, Wamp was first on the warden's list of potential soldiers.
In their campaign against the orcish threat, Wamp's growing leadership qualities were clear to his senior officers. Two years into service, Wamp was selected to lead a special mission and was allowed to hand pick his squad. He returned with the head of an orc-chief, without losing any soldiers. From then on, Wamp and his 'champions' have become the most trusted and feared implement of the empire along its border regions.
ALLIES:
Warden Lurn: Wamp was a warden's dream and did nothing but make his job easier. The warden is a cleric of Erathis, and through him, Wamp was able to find the language to express his new-found passion for social harmony. Wamp has been back to the prison more than once to recruit new soldiers and see old friends.
Uncle Veet: Surprisingly still alive, Veet has become something of a patriarch among the Skudders. Even when Wamp can't visit himself, he will sometimes send a messenger to his homeland because his uncle is a reliable source of info about enemy movements along the western border. The Skudders have long known how to live beside various races that more civilized folk abhor.
ENEMIES:
Lieutenant Tarbgoth: A bugbear assassin from a goblinoid kingdom that has identified the Skudder homeland as an area vulnerable to annexation. Through Veet, Wamp has learned of more frequent goblinoid incursions. His commander will not allow Wamp to take leave, and he is quickly approaching a crisis of loyalties. If Wamp, with or without his 'champions', tries to address the threat, he must eventually face the ambitious Tarbgoth, who is the real advocate of the aggressions.
APPEARENCE
Standing against a tree, the salt and pepper haired dwarf's heavily scarred face and arms appear almost monstrous in the dying light of a campfire. On his neck, hands and shins, fierce-looking tattoos of varying quality glare, snarl, and offend. The head of an impossibly large, rune-laden hammer slung at his hip serves as an armrest for one gnarled, hairless fore-limb. Woven and braided in warrior fashion, his lank locks lay to the left, crusted with mud and some blood. His small, bright eyes, till now closed, open slowly from a peaceful dream. He moves toward the fire and rouses one of a dozen younger soldiers to take over the watch. It may have been an hour or so on the early side, but the soldier will not complain. This is his leader, the mighty and merciful captain who keeps them alive everyday, through every mission.
ORIGINS
Though they claim no single village as their home, the Skudder clan is well-known to a cluster of small towns in a far western province of a robust dwarven empire. They live in holes and hovels on the fringes of the fringes of civilization. The Skudders are known as ignorant, hard-drinking, backwoods, bellicose bumpkins, and for the most part that's true. Wamp (the infant dwarf's first 'word') was raised by an older uncle (Veet) who happened to form an attachment to him. Before leaving home, Wamp met two women who claimed to be his mother and an even dozen who claimed fatherhood...but that was normal. Uncle Veet had actually been to the provincial capitol, and it was there he sent Wamp as the young dwarf began picking fights with everyone he met. This was an expected stage in the development of a Skudder, but Wamp was a disturbingly talented brawler and overly pugnacious adolescents had been bound and thrown into the river before.
Wamp lasted a solid six months as a ditch digger before being thrown off the job. A week later he was drunk, broke and scrapping with a big farmhand in the cheapest bar in town. He woke up shirtless in a dirty room with two doors and no windows. A tall, thin, mustachioed human in a fancy robe walked in one door with a sack of coin in one hand and a pitcher of water, which he placed on a low table.
“My men saved you from the guard last night. I hear you're a fine fighter, Mr...Wamp, is it?”
“W-what?” Wamp stood.
“Through that door is another fighter. If you go through it and beat him, this coin is yours. If that's not your game, go back to the streets to find your ale money.”
Wamp stumbled toward the man, reaching for the coin, when three armored men appeared behind him, pointing longspears at his bare chest. Wamp turned, gulped water from the pitcher, and walked through the other door. His victory that night against the savage gnoll, in front of the screaming, squabbling crowd, was the first of many.
The financial and personal stakes rose as Wamp 'the champ' Skudder made his way as a prize-fighter from that western provincial capitol to the grand imperial city. The young gladiator fought for bigger purses, and he fought to the death. He killed many. He drank deeply and enjoyed the company of various escorts. Unfortunately, Wamp was also introduced to more intense intoxicants than alcohol. Lucky to avoid death in the ring, he began missing fights and was quickly struck from the roster of top-notch fighters. Even working as muscle for the local thieves guild proved difficult while strung out. Wamp was captured by the city guard while assaulting one of the guild's debtors. As a known drug addict and associate of thieves, Wamp was sentenced to twenty years, hard labor.
His first year was spent fighting to establish a reputation and detoxing from the hard drugs he'd chased for so long. The second year, Wamp kept to himself and spent long hours contemplating the lives he'd taken. In the third year, Wamp saw a prison bully roughing up a new prisoner...and something snapped. After pummeling the crap out of the bully, Wamp looked up to see 20 or so prisoners staring at him in admiration. This was the beginning of the prison's most peaceful era. Wamp and his followers made sure all the inmates knew that violence against other prisoners would not be tolerated. In his sixth year, the empire faced war on two fronts, so when the imperial army recruiters visited the prison, Wamp was first on the warden's list of potential soldiers.
In their campaign against the orcish threat, Wamp's growing leadership qualities were clear to his senior officers. Two years into service, Wamp was selected to lead a special mission and was allowed to hand pick his squad. He returned with the head of an orc-chief, without losing any soldiers. From then on, Wamp and his 'champions' have become the most trusted and feared implement of the empire along its border regions.
ALLIES:
Warden Lurn: Wamp was a warden's dream and did nothing but make his job easier. The warden is a cleric of Erathis, and through him, Wamp was able to find the language to express his new-found passion for social harmony. Wamp has been back to the prison more than once to recruit new soldiers and see old friends.
Uncle Veet: Surprisingly still alive, Veet has become something of a patriarch among the Skudders. Even when Wamp can't visit himself, he will sometimes send a messenger to his homeland because his uncle is a reliable source of info about enemy movements along the western border. The Skudders have long known how to live beside various races that more civilized folk abhor.
ENEMIES:
Lieutenant Tarbgoth: A bugbear assassin from a goblinoid kingdom that has identified the Skudder homeland as an area vulnerable to annexation. Through Veet, Wamp has learned of more frequent goblinoid incursions. His commander will not allow Wamp to take leave, and he is quickly approaching a crisis of loyalties. If Wamp, with or without his 'champions', tries to address the threat, he must eventually face the ambitious Tarbgoth, who is the real advocate of the aggressions.
Damn, I hate this part of being coordinator. It's the absolute worst part. I'm sorry, Tylara. I need to disqualify your entry. I hope you come back for a future contest - your entry looks good. (says the guy who barely understands basic 4e rules.) Hopefully, the judges will have time to provide you some comments despite the disqualification.
Again, I hate doing this, and I'm sorry.
Nooooooes! I understand the reasons for that, though. Damn my impatience in wanting to get it up ASAP!
Baron Banehallow
7 x ,000 (lv 13) <strong>+3 Subtle Tratnyr</strong> (+3 damage with combat advantage), +3d6 on crits
5 x ,000 (lv 10) <strong>+2 Tactician's Finemail(AV)</strong> (+1 to powers or class features that use intelligence)
5 x ,000 (lv 10) <strong>Healer's Shield (AV)</strong> (daily -- max healing value + cha modifier when ally is healed)
9 x ,000 (lvl 11) <strong>Assassin's Slippers (AV)</strong> (encounter -- treat enemy as flanked if being in an adjacent square would flank them.)
5 x ,000 (lvl 10) <strong>Strikebacks (AV)</strong> (encounter -- retaliate against an enemy who just hit you; +1 to oppurtunity attacks.
4 x ,200 (lvl 9) <strong>+2 Healer's Brooch (AV)</strong> -- powers that restore hitpoints an additional +2
1 x ,800 (lvl 6) <strong>Cincture of the Dragon Spirit </strong>-- Intimidate checks are made with strength instead
1 x ,000 (lvl 5) <strong>Skull Helm</strong> -- enemies who see you take -2 on saves against fear. resist necrotic 5, +1 to intimidate.
7 x ,000 (lv 13) <strong>+3 Subtle Tratnyr</strong> (+3 damage with combat advantage), +3d6 on crits
5 x ,000 (lv 10) <strong>+2 Tactician's Finemail(AV)</strong> (+1 to powers or class features that use intelligence)
5 x ,000 (lv 10) <strong>Healer's Shield (AV)</strong> (daily -- max healing value + cha modifier when ally is healed)
9 x ,000 (lvl 11) <strong>Assassin's Slippers (AV)</strong> (encounter -- treat enemy as flanked if being in an adjacent square would flank them.)
5 x ,000 (lvl 10) <strong>Strikebacks (AV)</strong> (encounter -- retaliate against an enemy who just hit you; +1 to oppurtunity attacks.
4 x ,200 (lvl 9) <strong>+2 Healer's Brooch (AV)</strong> -- powers that restore hitpoints an additional +2
1 x ,800 (lvl 6) <strong>Cincture of the Dragon Spirit </strong>-- Intimidate checks are made with strength instead
1 x ,000 (lvl 5) <strong>Skull Helm</strong> -- enemies who see you take -2 on saves against fear. resist necrotic 5, +1 to intimidate.
Cheers, mates.
Nooooooes! I understand the reasons for that, though. Damn my impatience in wanting to get it up ASAP!
For what it's worth, yours was my favorite of those I read (I haven't read them all) including my own. You have a lot of talent.
All the Best,
Nani?
I think it would be better to avoid artifacts. Perhaps "flavour" one magic item as a minor artifact in that it talks or w/e, but is simply that static magic item; it doesn't behave as an artifact as listed in the DMG. (With concordance, etc).
I would certainly tread carefully.
I don't like my character. I will build a new one.
Having the exact same situation. Spent two weeks thinking up a backstory, charting my guy's mission, purpose, motivations, connections, point by point. Looked it all over...and it's terrible.
Then, 3:am yesterday, while trying to get to sleep....:lightbulb
*gets the drawing board*
crunch
Name: Urog Bra-Oza
Race: Orc
Sex: Male
Height: 7'3"
Weight: 325 lbs.
Eyes: Dark Brown
Hair: Black (currently shaved)
Skin: Moss Green
Alignment: Evil
Diety: None
-------------------------
Level 12 Fighter/Dread Reaper (MP p26)
Abilities
Str 21 (16 base, +2 racial, +2 level, +1 paragon)
Con 18 (14 base, +2 racial, +1 level, +1 paragon)
Dex 16 (14 base, +1 level, +1 paragon)
Int 11 (10 base, +1 paragon)
Wis 12 (11 base, +1 paragon)
Cha 11 (10 base, +1 paragon)
-------------------------
4th level +1 Str, +1 Dex
8th level +1 str, +1 Con
Defenses
AC: 28 (16 level, +11 armor, +1 feat)
Fort: 24 (16 level, +5 Str, +2 class, +1 item)
Ref: 20 (16 level, +3 Dex, +1 item)
Will: 18 (16 level, +1 Wis, +1 item)
-------------------------
Basic Combat
Basic Attack: +17 (+6 level, +5 Str, +3 prof., +3 magic)
Basic Damage: d12 +10 (d12 fullblade +5 Str +3 magic +2 feat)
* +1 attack and +3 damage vs. bloodied targets (bloodthirsty weapon property)
fullblade - AV p9 (2h, d12 damage, +3 prof. bonus, high crit, heavy blade)
-------------------------
Initiative
+9 (+6 level, +3 Dex)
Movement
5 squares (6 base, -1 armor)
* +2 to speed when charging (Running Charge racial ability)
-------------------------
Senses
Vision: Low-Light
Passive Perception: 17
Passive Insight: 17
-------------------------
Hit Points
HP: 109 Bloodied: 54
Healing surges: 13 HS Value: 27
-------------------------
Action Points: 1
* Reaper's Action: When Urog spends his action point to make an attack with a 2h weapon, adjacent enemies take 5 damage (Dread Reaper ability, MP p26)
-------------------------
Racial Features
Orc
+2 Str and Con
Size: Medium
Speed: 6 squares
Vision: Low-Light
Languages: Common, Giant
Running Charge: +2 speed when charging
Warrior's Surge power
-------------------------
Class/Paragon Path Features
Combat Challenge: Marked enemies take a -2 to attacks when not attacking Urog, also adjacent marks that shift or make an attack that does not include Urog give him a free basic attack as an immediate inturupt action. (He also deals +4 damage thanks to his Potent Challenge feat)
Combat Superiority: Urog gets his Wis bonus (+1) to Opportunity attacks
Fighter Weapon Talent: Urog gets +1 on all attack rolls with Two-handed weapons
Reaper's Action: see action points
Impending Slaughter: If Urog's opportunity attacks bloody a marked opponent, that opponent is knocked prone. (MP p26)
-------------------------
Skills
Acrobatics +7 (+6 level, +3 Dex, -2 armor)
Arcana +6 (+6 level)
Athletics +14 (+6 level, +5 Str, +5 Trained, -2 armor)
Bluff +6 (+6 level)
Diplomacy +4 (+6 level, -2 item)
Dungeoneering +7 (+6 level, +1 Wis)
Endurance +13 (+6 level, +4 Con, +5 Trained, -2 armor)
Heal +7 (+6 level, +1 Wis)
History +6 (+6 level)
Insight +7 (+6 level, +1 Wis)
Intimidate +15 (+6 level, +5 Trained, +4 item)
Nature +7 (+6 level, +1 Wis)
Perception +7 (+6 level, +1 Wis)
Religion +6 (+6 level)
Stealth +7 (+6 level, +3 Dex, -2 armor)
Streetwise +6 (+6 level)
Thievery +7 (+6 level, +3 Dex, -2 armor)
--------------------------
Feats
1st Weapon Proficiency (Fullblade) (AV p9)
2nd Toughness
4th Reaping Blade (MP p138)
6th Armor Proficiency (Plate)
8th Weapon Focus (Heavy Blades)
10th Potent Challenge
11th Heavy Blade Opportunity
12th Armor Specialization (Plate)
--------------------------
Equipment
+3 bloodthirsty fullblade (lv 13, 17,000 gp) (AV p65)
+3 darkforged plate (lv 12, 13,000 gp) (AV p43)
dread helm (lv 13, 17,000gp) (AV p140)
wrestler's gloves (lv 2, 520 gp) (AV p131)
amulet of protection +1 (lv 1, 360 gp)
trail rations
bedroll
belt pouch
1 pp
20 gp
--------------------------
Powers
-At-Will-
1- Cleave
1- Reaping Strike
-Encounter-
1- Warrior's Surge (orc racial power)
1- Passing Attack
3- Dance of Steel
7- Stay Down (MP p12)
11- Reaping Lunge (MP p26)
12- Reaper's Warning (MP p26)
-Daily-
1- Brute Strike
2- Unstoppable
5- Rain of Steel
6- Settling the Score (MP p11)
9- Thicket of Blades
10- Defensive Resurgence (MP p14)
--------------------------
Name: Urog Bra-Oza
Race: Orc
Sex: Male
Height: 7'3"
Weight: 325 lbs.
Eyes: Dark Brown
Hair: Black (currently shaved)
Skin: Moss Green
Alignment: Evil
Diety: None
-------------------------
Level 12 Fighter/Dread Reaper (MP p26)
Abilities
Str 21 (16 base, +2 racial, +2 level, +1 paragon)
Con 18 (14 base, +2 racial, +1 level, +1 paragon)
Dex 16 (14 base, +1 level, +1 paragon)
Int 11 (10 base, +1 paragon)
Wis 12 (11 base, +1 paragon)
Cha 11 (10 base, +1 paragon)
-------------------------
4th level +1 Str, +1 Dex
8th level +1 str, +1 Con
Defenses
AC: 28 (16 level, +11 armor, +1 feat)
Fort: 24 (16 level, +5 Str, +2 class, +1 item)
Ref: 20 (16 level, +3 Dex, +1 item)
Will: 18 (16 level, +1 Wis, +1 item)
-------------------------
Basic Combat
Basic Attack: +17 (+6 level, +5 Str, +3 prof., +3 magic)
Basic Damage: d12 +10 (d12 fullblade +5 Str +3 magic +2 feat)
* +1 attack and +3 damage vs. bloodied targets (bloodthirsty weapon property)
fullblade - AV p9 (2h, d12 damage, +3 prof. bonus, high crit, heavy blade)
-------------------------
Initiative
+9 (+6 level, +3 Dex)
Movement
5 squares (6 base, -1 armor)
* +2 to speed when charging (Running Charge racial ability)
-------------------------
Senses
Vision: Low-Light
Passive Perception: 17
Passive Insight: 17
-------------------------
Hit Points
HP: 109 Bloodied: 54
Healing surges: 13 HS Value: 27
-------------------------
Action Points: 1
* Reaper's Action: When Urog spends his action point to make an attack with a 2h weapon, adjacent enemies take 5 damage (Dread Reaper ability, MP p26)
-------------------------
Racial Features
Orc
+2 Str and Con
Size: Medium
Speed: 6 squares
Vision: Low-Light
Languages: Common, Giant
Running Charge: +2 speed when charging
Warrior's Surge power
-------------------------
Class/Paragon Path Features
Combat Challenge: Marked enemies take a -2 to attacks when not attacking Urog, also adjacent marks that shift or make an attack that does not include Urog give him a free basic attack as an immediate inturupt action. (He also deals +4 damage thanks to his Potent Challenge feat)
Combat Superiority: Urog gets his Wis bonus (+1) to Opportunity attacks
Fighter Weapon Talent: Urog gets +1 on all attack rolls with Two-handed weapons
Reaper's Action: see action points
Impending Slaughter: If Urog's opportunity attacks bloody a marked opponent, that opponent is knocked prone. (MP p26)
-------------------------
Skills
Acrobatics +7 (+6 level, +3 Dex, -2 armor)
Arcana +6 (+6 level)
Athletics +14 (+6 level, +5 Str, +5 Trained, -2 armor)
Bluff +6 (+6 level)
Diplomacy +4 (+6 level, -2 item)
Dungeoneering +7 (+6 level, +1 Wis)
Endurance +13 (+6 level, +4 Con, +5 Trained, -2 armor)
Heal +7 (+6 level, +1 Wis)
History +6 (+6 level)
Insight +7 (+6 level, +1 Wis)
Intimidate +15 (+6 level, +5 Trained, +4 item)
Nature +7 (+6 level, +1 Wis)
Perception +7 (+6 level, +1 Wis)
Religion +6 (+6 level)
Stealth +7 (+6 level, +3 Dex, -2 armor)
Streetwise +6 (+6 level)
Thievery +7 (+6 level, +3 Dex, -2 armor)
--------------------------
Feats
1st Weapon Proficiency (Fullblade) (AV p9)
2nd Toughness
4th Reaping Blade (MP p138)
6th Armor Proficiency (Plate)
8th Weapon Focus (Heavy Blades)
10th Potent Challenge
11th Heavy Blade Opportunity
12th Armor Specialization (Plate)
--------------------------
Equipment
+3 bloodthirsty fullblade (lv 13, 17,000 gp) (AV p65)
+3 darkforged plate (lv 12, 13,000 gp) (AV p43)
dread helm (lv 13, 17,000gp) (AV p140)
wrestler's gloves (lv 2, 520 gp) (AV p131)
amulet of protection +1 (lv 1, 360 gp)
trail rations
bedroll
belt pouch
1 pp
20 gp
--------------------------
Powers
-At-Will-
1- Cleave
1- Reaping Strike
-Encounter-
1- Warrior's Surge (orc racial power)
1- Passing Attack
3- Dance of Steel
7- Stay Down (MP p12)
11- Reaping Lunge (MP p26)
12- Reaper's Warning (MP p26)
-Daily-
1- Brute Strike
2- Unstoppable
5- Rain of Steel
6- Settling the Score (MP p11)
9- Thicket of Blades
10- Defensive Resurgence (MP p14)
--------------------------
Background
Show
It all started when Dashel was killed at the age of 13.
It was a foolish death, really – one that he’d often regret. It was the price he paid for backing up his best friend, in a move that was tantamount to suicide. His best friend, a youth named Corliss Lorinthal, had been called in to visit his adopted father, who was bedridden with injuries sustained in a fight. Corliss asked Dashel to come with him, for he always felt stronger, more confident, when Dashel was at his side.
Little did either boy know – Corliss’s father was injured slaying two of the Emperess’s troops. While the boys are visiting his father, Imperial troops show up to take his father away. He was to be executed at dawn.
Corliss, lost in confusion and fear, swung a chair at the arresting sergeant. The shocked sergeant didn’t react before his nose was shattered. Bleeding and furious, he ordered that Corliss be taken along with his father, for assaulting an Imperial soldier was the same as assaulting the Empress herself. The blood of treason – no doubt – ran from father to son.
When one of the sergeant’s men moved to subdue Corliss, Dashel fought side by side with him, trying to bring the soldier down. The two unarmed boys were quickly overwhelmed and taken prisoner. The sergeant, enraged by the level of dissent that had sown itself into this particular Imperial community, decided he would send a message. Dashel, too, would be killed.
On the morrow, both boys were taken to the river – where their executions were to be carried out. Always humble, the Empire yielded all matters of faith to the Gods. Criminals were chained up and throw into a river. Were they to surface again, they were deemed innocent and saved by the Gods. It was an impeccable system – so far, the Gods had spared no one.
Today was different however. While it was not Gods that acted, it was several members of the community. You see, as it turns out, a few of them had kept a secret. Corliss Lorinthal was the last known heir of the original emperor, and was being raised in secret, watched over by a few loyal guardians his real father arranged for prior to his death.
When it came time to execute the two boys, the patriots acted and managed to shoot down Corliss’s executors before they could shove him off the raft.
Of course, they paid little heed to Dashel’s executors – what was he but a sidekick? A pawn to be sacrificed so hope remained. The executors threw Dashel overboard, and he drowned.
Or, so everyone thought. What only one other knows is that he awoke that same day, in a dark, dank cell… summoned there by the Empress’s chief advisor, a warlock who called himself Prophet.
Dashel was not the only young man to be summoned in such a way. 29 others had found themselves in this dungeon, called away from their certain deaths. Prophet met them all, and explained what they were doing there. One of them would become his apprentice, if they so desired. The others would be killed, as fate originally intended.
For the next week, Dashel was subjected to trials and horrors he couldn’t have even comprehended in his regular life. He was able to befriend one other boy, a youth named Miles – who was very similar to Corliss in many ways. Like Dashel, he too felt he didn’t belong in this competition, genuinely being a good person who wanted no harm to fall on anyone.
Sticking together, both boys were able to endure through trials, which pit them against summoned monsters… and even the other potentials. They killed only in defense, using their limited sword expertise, as well as unexplained dark powers they suddenly found they could wield through the grace of Prophet.
In the end, 30 had been reduced to 4 – and Miles had had enough. He proposed to Dashel that they run away together, that they use their newfound powers to escape the trial all together, rather than be forced to the eventual conclusion – that only one can survive.
Dashel agreed, having already killed several others to get this far. He continued to feel the evil inside him growing. The unearned, demonic powers manifested like a Creature within him, one that wanted to feed on emotions like anger and hate.
One that Dashel found himself giving into more and more in order to survive.
As the final trial began, Dashel, Miles and the two other remaining apprentices are teleported to the base of a mountain, where their task is to find a relic that will enhance their powers ten fold – only one could survive the trial and use the relic. Dashel and Miles agreed to take hold of this relic, as a team, and use it to escape.
The other two form a temporary alliance out of necessity, and both teams arrive on the summit at similar times, finding the relic sitting on a pedestal. Both unleash hell upon each other, while Dashel manifests The Creature, and outright slays one in a barrage of eldritch power. Miles and the second strike each other at the same time.
Miles is blown nearly off the mountain, grasping a rocky ledge with both hands to stay alive. The second is dropped feet from the pedestal – and begins crawling for the relic, despite being mortally wounded. Dashel sees now that he must choose between helping Miles, and risking the other apprentice gets to the relic first… or letting Miles fall, so that he gets the relic first.
His thoughts returned to him stepping up for Corliss, risking all he was in order to save his best friend. In the end, his best friend survived and it was he who died, abandoned… alone. It was only the dark powers that saved him, and such things as honor and sacrifice were meaningless words, meant to give comfort to good people who threw away their lives.
Never again would Dashel risk becoming a martyr for someone else.
Making his choice, Dashel leaves Miles to his fate and seizes the relic for himself. He holds it high, even as Miles screams and falls to his death. Once the glory is over, he notices the second apprentice dead two feet away from the pedestal. He would have never made it, had he helped Miles.
Dashel becomes the apprentice of the most powerful warlock in the Realm, and the thought of escape is like ash on his tongue now. He has lost all sense of who he was. Not a day passes where he isn’t reduced to sobs over how he killed Miles.
For almost six months, the pain doesn’t end – though eventually, it dulls. Within a year, he can sleep without dreaming of him. Within two years – it’s just another distant memory that has served to chill his soul.
Seven years pass – filled with murders, deceit and the worship of demonic powers. By then, he was glad he killed Miles, for now… he has power unlike any he could have dreamed of. He considers him a small sacrifice to pay for the gifts he has received.
Days after Dashel’s 20th birthday, the Prophet made clear he wasn’t training an apprentice – but a successor. Dashel’s training is finally complete and now, it is time for him to return to the Dark Powers.
Before he goes, he tasks Dashel with one final mission: to eradicate the last of the Lorinthal line so that the Empress may never be threatened again. He must find his former best friend, Corliss, and execute him.
Old emotions he thought had been long dead, paved with half a life of murder, deception and demonic energies resurfaced with his task. As much as he had hardened himself – he isn’t quite sure he can handle facing his old best friend – who would surely greet him with tears and a warm smile.
He knows the powers that be are watching him, and has a decision to make. This is surely his last chance for redemption – he can either continue down this dark path he’s spent half his life following, or see where a new path against the Empress and her evil powers may lead, with his best friend at his side.
It was a foolish death, really – one that he’d often regret. It was the price he paid for backing up his best friend, in a move that was tantamount to suicide. His best friend, a youth named Corliss Lorinthal, had been called in to visit his adopted father, who was bedridden with injuries sustained in a fight. Corliss asked Dashel to come with him, for he always felt stronger, more confident, when Dashel was at his side.
Little did either boy know – Corliss’s father was injured slaying two of the Emperess’s troops. While the boys are visiting his father, Imperial troops show up to take his father away. He was to be executed at dawn.
Corliss, lost in confusion and fear, swung a chair at the arresting sergeant. The shocked sergeant didn’t react before his nose was shattered. Bleeding and furious, he ordered that Corliss be taken along with his father, for assaulting an Imperial soldier was the same as assaulting the Empress herself. The blood of treason – no doubt – ran from father to son.
When one of the sergeant’s men moved to subdue Corliss, Dashel fought side by side with him, trying to bring the soldier down. The two unarmed boys were quickly overwhelmed and taken prisoner. The sergeant, enraged by the level of dissent that had sown itself into this particular Imperial community, decided he would send a message. Dashel, too, would be killed.
On the morrow, both boys were taken to the river – where their executions were to be carried out. Always humble, the Empire yielded all matters of faith to the Gods. Criminals were chained up and throw into a river. Were they to surface again, they were deemed innocent and saved by the Gods. It was an impeccable system – so far, the Gods had spared no one.
Today was different however. While it was not Gods that acted, it was several members of the community. You see, as it turns out, a few of them had kept a secret. Corliss Lorinthal was the last known heir of the original emperor, and was being raised in secret, watched over by a few loyal guardians his real father arranged for prior to his death.
When it came time to execute the two boys, the patriots acted and managed to shoot down Corliss’s executors before they could shove him off the raft.
Of course, they paid little heed to Dashel’s executors – what was he but a sidekick? A pawn to be sacrificed so hope remained. The executors threw Dashel overboard, and he drowned.
Or, so everyone thought. What only one other knows is that he awoke that same day, in a dark, dank cell… summoned there by the Empress’s chief advisor, a warlock who called himself Prophet.
Dashel was not the only young man to be summoned in such a way. 29 others had found themselves in this dungeon, called away from their certain deaths. Prophet met them all, and explained what they were doing there. One of them would become his apprentice, if they so desired. The others would be killed, as fate originally intended.
For the next week, Dashel was subjected to trials and horrors he couldn’t have even comprehended in his regular life. He was able to befriend one other boy, a youth named Miles – who was very similar to Corliss in many ways. Like Dashel, he too felt he didn’t belong in this competition, genuinely being a good person who wanted no harm to fall on anyone.
Sticking together, both boys were able to endure through trials, which pit them against summoned monsters… and even the other potentials. They killed only in defense, using their limited sword expertise, as well as unexplained dark powers they suddenly found they could wield through the grace of Prophet.
In the end, 30 had been reduced to 4 – and Miles had had enough. He proposed to Dashel that they run away together, that they use their newfound powers to escape the trial all together, rather than be forced to the eventual conclusion – that only one can survive.
Dashel agreed, having already killed several others to get this far. He continued to feel the evil inside him growing. The unearned, demonic powers manifested like a Creature within him, one that wanted to feed on emotions like anger and hate.
One that Dashel found himself giving into more and more in order to survive.
As the final trial began, Dashel, Miles and the two other remaining apprentices are teleported to the base of a mountain, where their task is to find a relic that will enhance their powers ten fold – only one could survive the trial and use the relic. Dashel and Miles agreed to take hold of this relic, as a team, and use it to escape.
The other two form a temporary alliance out of necessity, and both teams arrive on the summit at similar times, finding the relic sitting on a pedestal. Both unleash hell upon each other, while Dashel manifests The Creature, and outright slays one in a barrage of eldritch power. Miles and the second strike each other at the same time.
Miles is blown nearly off the mountain, grasping a rocky ledge with both hands to stay alive. The second is dropped feet from the pedestal – and begins crawling for the relic, despite being mortally wounded. Dashel sees now that he must choose between helping Miles, and risking the other apprentice gets to the relic first… or letting Miles fall, so that he gets the relic first.
His thoughts returned to him stepping up for Corliss, risking all he was in order to save his best friend. In the end, his best friend survived and it was he who died, abandoned… alone. It was only the dark powers that saved him, and such things as honor and sacrifice were meaningless words, meant to give comfort to good people who threw away their lives.
Never again would Dashel risk becoming a martyr for someone else.
Making his choice, Dashel leaves Miles to his fate and seizes the relic for himself. He holds it high, even as Miles screams and falls to his death. Once the glory is over, he notices the second apprentice dead two feet away from the pedestal. He would have never made it, had he helped Miles.
Dashel becomes the apprentice of the most powerful warlock in the Realm, and the thought of escape is like ash on his tongue now. He has lost all sense of who he was. Not a day passes where he isn’t reduced to sobs over how he killed Miles.
For almost six months, the pain doesn’t end – though eventually, it dulls. Within a year, he can sleep without dreaming of him. Within two years – it’s just another distant memory that has served to chill his soul.
Seven years pass – filled with murders, deceit and the worship of demonic powers. By then, he was glad he killed Miles, for now… he has power unlike any he could have dreamed of. He considers him a small sacrifice to pay for the gifts he has received.
Days after Dashel’s 20th birthday, the Prophet made clear he wasn’t training an apprentice – but a successor. Dashel’s training is finally complete and now, it is time for him to return to the Dark Powers.
Before he goes, he tasks Dashel with one final mission: to eradicate the last of the Lorinthal line so that the Empress may never be threatened again. He must find his former best friend, Corliss, and execute him.
Old emotions he thought had been long dead, paved with half a life of murder, deception and demonic energies resurfaced with his task. As much as he had hardened himself – he isn’t quite sure he can handle facing his old best friend – who would surely greet him with tears and a warm smile.
He knows the powers that be are watching him, and has a decision to make. This is surely his last chance for redemption – he can either continue down this dark path he’s spent half his life following, or see where a new path against the Empress and her evil powers may lead, with his best friend at his side.
Millions of stars, glistening together, events of importance all, bound together by lives and longings of god and mortal, woven into a glittering weave. Vast energies, the momentum of history, surge across its expanse, roaring across the gaps between lines as lives touch and inspire others, the entire web alight with the comings and goings of a million mortal souls.
Behold as a new event is born, the changing of history in response to the free will of mortality. See the web twist and reform, bending itself to unveil the new path of all life, the new destiny.
Watch the flares of new lives and the extinguishing of old ones, souls given and taken at every day. Consider the impact of every shining mote within the vast brilliance of the whole.
Witness the surging momentum strain at the webbing, pulling it taut in stubborn refusal, until further energies convince it, nay, force it to yield to the new path.
Notice as one mote surges outward across the expanse, one in a thousand, ready to impact the line across the gap. Suddenly, it veers off course, a hair's breath calculation in error, and smacks into another surge. The two detonate, sparkling shards of mortality cascading across the surrounding lines, and the entire web shudders, quivers, changes.
And lo, a voice spoke in the darkness and light of the Web of Fate.
“Ooooooh, sh*t.”
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He had Screwed Up.
Swiftly and silently, he rushed through the hallways to the main library. Ascending the steps (none of them were exactly corporeal anymore, but they still had steps. Nostalgia.), he ducked behind the pillars, traveling always within the shadows.
This was bad. If She found out, if She caught him....
Here it was. Passing through the barriers, constructed for the protection of everyone involved, he beheld...the Book. More specifically, the Ghezrion and Fitzgerald Principles of Statistical Analysis and Probability Mechanics Necessary For the Proper Application of Destiny Upon a Free-Thinking Multiversenal Realm With Emphasis on Correlating Magical and Mundane Phenomena with Maximum Efficiency, Volume I, Expanded Edition.
….........It had to be done.
Trembling, he summoned up his essence, what remained of it, and gripped the cover. Certain parts of his psyche, the parts that still remembered the mandatory training sessions, reeled in anticipatory horror.
He opened it, the Fourth Most Soul-Destroyingly Boring Book Ever.
…....................
Hours later, after blacking out twice, he knew what had to be done. He held in his grip two parchments, the list and the ritual. One, the Things Which Had To Be Done. The other, his ticket there. He made his way to the stock rooms. He needed supplies. He took the Book too.
She'd obliterate him if She ever found out. And an abysmal feeling told him She knew already.
Drawing the ritual circle, he began. He needed to get back to mortality.
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The priest thought he heard something.
His old bones creaking in protest, he rose from his desk. He needed a drink of water, anyway. No one else was awake, but next week's sermon wouldn't write itself, sadly. Shuffling across the small abbey, he passed through the rear hall, brow furrowed. He didn't like it, the indignity of it all, storing the poor man's casket away in the wine storage until the funeral. It seemed disrespectful, like they just wanted to whole thing over and done with, out of sight. Shouldn't treat a man like that, even one without friend or family. Muttering to himself, he opened the door to the larder.
The noise again. Behind him.
Turning very slowly, the priest stared back into the hall, where the great barrels were stored. And where the casket lay. Motionless.
…...Bah! He chuckled to himself. Getting old, getting scared of everything. He shuffled through the larder, picked up the small ever-flowing decanter, a gift from a time long gone, and poured himself a drink of sparkling, crystal clear water. Wonderful stuff. Of course, since he was already here, he liberated a bit of the cheese, can't let the stuff go to waste, now, and pox on that old woman's orders about dairy.
He closed the door to the larder, grinning to himself, and came face to face with the deceased.
“Excuse me, is this the northern continent?” the corpse asked.
…...........................
“Dammit, I hate being able to feel cold.”
Fleeing the abbey, covered head to toe in holy water, being chased by three monks, and abbot, and one scullery maid (who probably should not have been in one of the monk's rooms half dressed at three in the morning, as far as he could recall formalities), he dashed off into the night, clutching the book and the parchment tightly.
He needed to escape. He needed to find shelter. And, glancing down, realizing just why it was so cold, he needed to find clothing. Clothing was important. And then, the mission would begin...
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It wasn't a terrible night, all things considered. She stuffed the three copper coins that comprised the tips for the last hour into her apron and hefted the tray of drinks. All in all, it could be worse, no brawl tonight, no idiotic adventurers seeking tasks, no old timers smelling up the corners in dark hoods with their damn pipes. Delivering the tray to table three, she moved with an effortless grace, the kind only gained through lots of practice dodging flying mugs and barstools. Not a bad night, she might even—
“Excuse me, miss?”
He was hooded. Dammit. Nothing good comes from people who think they look good in cloaks.
“Is your name Miss Eliza Smith?”
“.....Yes,” she admitted, her expression guarded, hand reaching for the nearby firepoker.
“Excellent. About twelve miles north of here is a young man named John Henderson. It is vital that you proceed immediately to his location and procreate with him.”
The bar became very quiet, very fast.
Taking her expression as confusion, the stranger continued. “It's necessary, you see, for the two of you to mate. Under normal circumstances, this would have already occurred a month ago, but a calculation error has rendered it necessary for...”
“What did you just say to me?!?” Her voice rose up the scale, conveniently pitched directly with her temper. The patrons saw the vein on her forehead twitch. They slowly slid behind cover.
“Well, it's a fairly simple procedure. All that needs to be done is place his...”
….......At about this point, it should be noted that there is a significant gap in his memory. He is not exactly sure why.
“Ow.” He tried out the word. It felt good. Well, better than how everything else felt, which was painful. Very painful. “Oww.” He tried it again, longer. Yes, that was the appropriate term. He turned over. That was also painful, but now he wasn't face down in the ditch. He was face up. This was better.
It had been a long time since he could feel pain. Very long indeed. It was overrated.
“Perhaps,” he mused to himself, “I have been gone far too long. This will require...finesse.”
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The instant he moved away from the hostages, she acted.
Swinging down from the rafters, Lieutenant Ramirez dropped between him and the room containing the two prisoners. Even as he turned, her shortsword flew from its sheath, pointed directly between his eyes. The rest of her team burst through the door, moving in practiced speed to cover the escape and the civilians. Their coordination, their timing, everything was perfectly precise.
“Under the authority of His Majesty, I order you to surrender!” She allowed herself a bit of a smirk.
He looked at her sword for a moment, then shrugged. “Okay.”
…..They never say Okay. “You will be taken immediately into custody and will stand trial for kidnapping and reckless endangerment,” she rallied. He must be trying to throw them off, lull them into a false sense of security.
“Excellent. That will be acceptable.” He grinned. Why was he grinning?
“You agree to go quietly, then?” A hint of uncertainty crept into her voice. It's never this easy.
“Of course. I have seen the error in my ways, and am ready to serve my debt to society.” He glanced at the two civilians, both sighing in relief, yet still holding hands, and nodded in satisfaction. “Yes, this will do fine. Shall we go?”
Ten minutes later, the two civilians were walking away together, free. The criminal was in his cell. The building was clear. Ramirez sat in her office, her expression puzzled. What had just happened?
“Sir!” The rookie burst in, frantic. “He's gone! The prisoner's vanished!”
This was beginning to give her a headache.
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He looked down from the rooftop. This was the place.
The debate was all two one-sided. The council of Erathis had brought in one of their greatest student speakers, trained for years in the arts of conversation and persuasion. Next to him, the young priestess of Melora had conviction, devotion, and just about no eloquence whatsoever. One had learned rhetorical strategy since he was five, the other had assisted the birth of foals, estimated crop growth, studied herbalism. This entire thing was a sham, but it was to have a surprising twist. Well, in theory. Unfortunately, the young wizard who should have been making waterspouts was missing in action.
He set the tub down, spilling a bit of water. He had to get this just right.
The priestess finished her message, but her opponent moved in quickly, decisively, cutting into her arguments and bending her words with accomplished skill. The cleric turned, facing the crowd, and his voice rose up, calling upon their sense of duty, obligation to their fellow citizens.
Calculations of necessary force at a fourty-five degree angle...
Her protests were overridden by the cleric's louder, bolder tone. His argument to a more direct attack, invoking images of disease, vermin, and animal attacks.
Wind direction south-southwest at seven knots, account for necessary interference from wind resistance...
The power of technology and human ingenuity took center stage. Soon, very soon.
Increase probability through minor magical application, tap the nearest ley line... He reached down, into the tub, grabbing firmly.
The cleric brought his speech to its crescendo, challenging all of nature, nay, the goddess herself to show its power over mankind, should he be in the wrong, secure in the knowledge of humanity's greatness.
Bingo. Sweeping it out of the tub, he took three steps, whirling it in a high arc to gather momentum, then let fly.
…....................
People still talk about the day that a two foot rainbow trout fell out of the sky and hit the cleric of Erathis in the face. It was a perfect moment, his shocked expression, the flopping animal gasping on the ground, and the young priestess's beautifully bawdy fish joke that sent the crowd roaring with laughter. Call it divine providence, call it a prank, but no serious discussion could be made afterward, and the council, sides still hurting in mirth, just couldn't bring themselves to side with the Erathis delegation. In the months that followed, the river was set aside as protected land, a certain young priestess rose as a strong, down to earth leader in the community, and a the little legend spread across the land.
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“I hate this place.”
Lieutenant Ramirez nodded her agreement. The establishment was the very definition of seedy. Smoke and obscene laughter filled the air, the smell of roasting flesh, combatant's sweat, and fresh blood of slaughtered animals permeated the air, reaching everywhere. The entertainment, live combat in the central ring, the cuisine, freshly slain meat, prepared immediately before you, the ale, disgusting.
It was, in short, a dive.
Glancing sideways, she assessed their target, once again. Dubbed the Jackal, because every damn criminal seemed to name themselves after an animal or weapon, he had the usual list of convictions; assault, battery, murder, armed robbery, public intoxication. And one count of lewd behavior in a parade, but know one was willing to tell her the full story about that one. Her colleagues, both sergeants, were equally discomforted by the surroundings. No strangers to undercover work, they still found this place...nearly ridiculous in its depravity. Like someone was trying too hard to be too evil.
And then she saw him. That bastard.
The dark cloak detached itself from the shadows and walked forward. With singular purpose, the stranger strolled briskly up to the Jackal, who lay half-drunk across his table. Peering down at his face, then nodding as if in confirmation, the stranger asked, “Is your name Oliver Bennet?”
The Jackal bolted upright, his eyes blazing in fury. Roaring in anger, he whipped the curved axe from his belt and swung it wildly, screaming incoherently, “Noone callme that!”
Sidestepping the drunken rush, the stranger inclined his head. “Apologies, then, for the error, and for this. You were supposed,” he ducked an overhand swing, “to be slain by a wandering monk today, but,” dodging across the table, “your opponent has been detained. Therefore,” leaping over the screaming man's strike, “improvisation must be made. Rest in peace.”
So saying, the stranger slid past the raving Jackal's next strike. One finger danced outward, sliding in front and across the sweeping blade. A small line of blood traced the stranger's digit, and he slid backwards.
For a moment, everything was perfectly still. The bar was motionless, the only sounds being the screaming of the slaughtered animals, the struggled breathing of the dying gladiator on stage, the blood and pain and last breaths around them. The stranger stood taller, his eyes unfocused, inhaling slightly, then he pointed his bleeding finger at the Jackal, as if holding a wand or crossbow.
“Bang.”
….........Nothing happened. There was no great explosion, no change, no casting. The bar looked onward, expectantly, but no movement of heaven and earth occurred, no fire or thunder, no light or sound.
The corpse crumpled to the ground, the axe clattering against the floor.
Nodding his head, the stranger turned to go. The bar exploded into motion, some angry, some fearful, some entertained. Lieutenant Ramirez just sat very still, watching the stranger leave. Her eyes narrowed. That man hadn't made a move, not even when the two people he had kidnapped had gotten married, but now, here he was, making another mess in her city. Time to get to work.
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“Try ginkgo biloba,” the cloaked figure said. The trader, who had been lost in thought, was startled. But it made sense, the taste would compliment the recipe perfectly! He turned to thank the man, but the cloaked figure was gone. Ah, well, time to work!
Smiling to himself, the stranger sat down to rest in a side-alley. If only it were all that easy. Staring up into the sky, he hummed to himself, an old melody long gone. It was, on occasion, good to be back.
“Would you like an apple?” A small voice cut into his musings, off to his side.
Looking down, he saw a small, red fruit. Behind the fruit was a youngster, a girl sitting in a barrel.
“Thank you very much, I would,” he spoke, politely, taking the offered plant. Holding it lightly, he turned back to the youngster. “If I may ask, what are you doing in the barrel?”
“Hiding,” she said. “Mother wants me to do chores. So I hide here. But you're making noise.”
“My apologies, then,” he chuckled. “I will be more unobtrusive.” She stared at him for a second. “Er, I'll make less noise.”
“What's your name?” She asked, eyes wide with curiosity.
“Oh, I'm no one important. Just a random passerby.”
“Well then, random passer, I am Anna. Anna Martin,” she bowed slightly, amused.
He froze, for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was cool, low. “Martin. Would you be cousin to Thomas Martin, a wizard's apprentice in the next town?”
She grinned, “That's right! Do you know him?”
His voice was distant. “He's an acquaintance, we met only once, but he did speak of you fondly. Thank you for the apple, Miss Anna Martin. My apologies, but I must go.”
She pouted slightly, annoyed. “Alright, but don't tell Mother where I am!”
“I won't, I promise. Farewell.”
The stranger bowed slightly in farewell, then walked away. As he turned the corner, he sighed.
“Damn it all.”
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As he buried the sword in the ground, he muttered to himself. It needed to be done. It would work out just fine, what with the wight's lair close by. He'd need to place a marker here, something in silver for the young lad to find. Then it would all go like clockwork, the hero, the sword, the monster, the revenge. And all it would take was for one girl to die.
The shovel fell to the ground. “No, absolutely not!” He told himself. No interference. No changes beyond what was necessary. And no adjustments. What had to be done, must be done. That's how it would all work.
He picked up the shovel again, kept piling the dirt back. This is how it would have to be. He couldn't change it, no more than he could change...
How long at it been, since he had thought of Katie?
….....
“Dammit.” The shovel fell to the ground again, and he was running. The sword remained, half buried in the dirt. He didn't have much time.
“This is stupid, very stupid!”
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The wight roared in fury. In struggled against the invisible barrier, but could move no further. Screaming in protest, in hurled obscene insults at its tormentor. Finally, it rose up, eyes flashing.
“Who are you, and how dare you defy me?”
The stranger stood in front of the youngster, shielding her. Dark power surged around him, his eyes black, his hair whipping in the eldritch wind. His voice was old, old and angry.
“I'm the god-damned intern! And in the name of the Third Branch of the Web of Fate, Subsection Forty-Three, Emergency, Heroism, and Obscure Phenomena Department, get back to your damn lair before I reorganize and triplicate your unholy arse!”
…............
“I still think it was a good threat,” he muttered, as he handed her over to the abbey. It was easy enough, tell her that she needed to be in a holy place to be safe from the monster, and that everything would be safe in time. To the abbot, he left a note, asking him to inform the girl's distant relatives that she was, in fact, still alive. With the mail service as it was, word would only arrive after a certain young man took up the path of vengeance against an undead menace, found a magical sword, and slew a monster with his martial and arcane training. It would do. It would be fine.
It would have to do.
As he left the abbey, he closed his eyes. He hadn't prayed in a long while, a long time since he had whispered into the night. He lifted his voice, though, once again, barely audible. “My Lady, please grant your heretical servant this one indulgence. Just this once, let it be alright.”
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“I do not have time for these distractions! Now, unless you have further business, get out of my lab!” The wizard was becoming annoyed. So close to completion, and now he was being badgered. The audacity of it all, to shut down the experiments, now at the very brink of discovery!
“I will tell you again,” the stranger reaffirmed, his voice steady, “the avenue you are pursuing is not only worthless, it will place yourself and perhaps those in the vicinity in danger. I do have something I would like you to look over, however, in which you might make some progress—”
“I don't care about your foolish spellwork, young man! We're talking about immortality, eternal life! This is the stuff of dreams and legends, but it's almost in my grasp!”
They'd been arguing for an hour. The stranger sighed, “And as I've told you, the entire affair is too dangerous. The mortal soul cannot be extended into immortality, not without serious repercussions and reprisal. If you attempt this, you mark yourself a—”
“A target of otherworldly forces, yes, yes, you've said it before. I am willing to take that chance. We're talking about the greatest achievement ever to be accomplished, the transcendence to a greater state, the complete defiance of death itself! Everything is aligned, the equation is nearly complete, it merely needs one last element, just a single piece of the puzzle before I—”
“It's a soul.”
The wizard paused. The stranger was slumped forward, his eyes unfocused. “The last element is a soul, the very essence of one individual. In the spell's completion, that soul will be consumed completely, erased from existence. Not sacrificed, not sent to the afterlife, obliterated completely. And it must be the soul of your own child.”
The stranger's eyes met the wizard's. In the magician's face, comprehension, horror, regret...and that horrible moment of contemplation, rationalization, wondering if it would be worth it. Then he sighed, suddenly very old, very tired, and a long time passed, before either spoke. The wizard stared down at his notes, his research, two decades of work.
“They....they will need to be burned,” He said, gathering up his calculations. The stranger relaxed, hand slipping away from the dagger at his belt, and nodded. Reaching into his pack, he pulled out an old tome, dusty and worn.
“Here. This should have been completed before, a year ago. Circumstances have changed, and now it's left unfinished, undone. It's not unending life, but if you can finish this work, I swear your name will not be forgotten.”
Accepting the battered book, the wizard nodded. The stranger stepped back, turning to go.
“One thing,” the wizard called. “The formula. You've seen it before.”
The stranger stopped at the doorway. Pulling up his hood, his simply said, “Some things are best left buried.”
Fate is...the little things. It's a chance meeting between strangers, it's the loose brick that sends the monument crumbling down, the stray shot that fells the leader, the moment of insight that gives rise to invention. But a thousand little things carry a lot of weight, a lot of motion. Keeping the natural order of destiny aligned is a difficult task, with a lot of calculation, a lot of effort, and lot of tedious work.
And it is a task in which I failed.
I was given one chance to correct a mistake, long ago. At the time, it was punishment. After a century, it became routine. After another, it was a purpose, a possibility, a hope. And if my Lady, wonderful and terrible, finds out about what has happened before it is corrected, that hope is gone.
My name is Jack. I am here to fix things.
Jack (Intern of the Raven Queen)
Level 12 human Warlock, Divine Oracle
Initiative: +0
HP 70 Healing Surges: 7 (17 hp)
AC 25 (+6 Level, +5 Armor, +4 Int)
Fort 20(+6 Level, +1 Con, +2 Enhancement, +1 Racial)
Ref 24 (+6 Level, +4 Int, +2 Enhancement, +1 Racial, +1 Class)
Will Will: 25 (+6 Level, +5 Cha, +2 Enhancement, +1 Racial, +1 Class),
Speed 6
Action Points 1
Basic Melee: Basic Melee Attack: By weapon, damage 1[W]-1 [strength]
Basic Ranged: Basic Ranged Attack: By weapon, damage 1[W]+0 [dexterity]
Alignment: Unaligned, with good tendancies Languages: Common, Supernal
Feats: Initiate of the Faith: Raven Queen, Ritual Caster, Action Surge, Human Perseverance, Weapon Focus: Pact Dagger, Dark Fury(retrained from Toughness at Paragon level, once stat requirements are met), Skill Training: Stealth, Twofold Curse, Improved Darkspiral Aura
Trained Skills: Arcana +15, Bluff +16, History +15, Thievery +11, Intimidate +16(human bonus skill), Religion(from feat) +15, Stealth(from feat) +11
Stats: Numbers within Parenthesis are base numbers before racial or level adjustments.
Str 9 (8), Con 13(12), Dex 11(10), Int 19 (16), Wis 13 (12), Cha 21 (16, human bonus here)
Class Abilities: eldritch blast, darkspiral aura, prime shot, shadow walk, warlock's curse, Dark Pact: Feytouched Action [Level 11], Slashing Wake [Level 11]
Powers
At Will
Dire Radiance (human bonus at-will), Eldritch Blast, Spiteful Glamor.
Encounter
1) Flickering Venom
3) Your Delicious Weakness
7) Deaths' Commands
11) Prophecy of Doom
Daily
1) Contagion
5) Twilight of the Soul
9) Thief of Five Fates
Utility
2) Ethereal Stride
6) Dark One's Own Luck
10) Shielding Shades
12) Good Omens
Pact Blade Dagger +3(17,000), Sylvan Leather Armor+3 (17000), Amulet of Protection +2 (1800), Ghezrion and Fitzgerald Principles Volume I, Expanded Edition: treated as a Ritual Book with the following: Consult Mystic Sages, Comprehend Languages, Detect Object, Enchant Magic Item, Endure Elements, Hallucinatory Creature, Hand of Fate, Make Whole, Shadow Walk, Traveler's Feast, Wizard's Sight. Adventuerer's Kit, rations, wanderer's outfit, 5000 gp.
Notable people)
The Raven Queen. Currently employed by. Currently running from.
The Cult of the Raven Queen. Might be investigating why one of their own is running around the mortal world, rather than doing his job in the fate department.
Lieutenant Ramirez. City Guard, just made detective. Currently trying to find out why he is making a mess in her territory.
Temple of Pelor. Thinks he is a risen abomination. The body in question had no major family, but the town of Burgvillestadt might be interested in why Jack is wandering around in the remains of one of their dead.
The Cult of Vecna. Currently annoyed that a certain wizard is no longer researching a method of acquiring immortality.
Anna Martin. Young peasant. Probably the only one who actually considers Jack a friend, at the moment. Staying in a chapel of Bahamut, at the moment.
And I think we have a new HA record for longest entry. ;)
And I think we have a new HA record for longest entry. ;)
Sorry, it looked shorter in my word document. My apologies to the judges for the tedium I will put them through.
not for judging eyes
Tried to narrow it down, cut a corner or two. Already noticed it come back to bite me. There is a, *ahem*, copy-paste error, the legacy of borrowing format. Apologies to a certain other warlock.
Tried to narrow it down, cut a corner or two. Already noticed it come back to bite me. There is a, *ahem*, copy-paste error, the legacy of borrowing format. Apologies to a certain other warlock.
Good luck to all the entrants, and thank you for taking the time to make your awesome characters!
And now...the waiting game
There is that in favor of being DQed: I don't have to wait anxiously for the results of the judging.
:fight!: :fight!:
:fight!: :fight!: :fight!: :fight!:
:fight!: :fight!: :fight!: :fight!:
:fight!: :fight!: :fight!: :fight!:
:fight!: :fight!:
...........
Release the kobolds!
:invasion: :invasion: :invasion:
=
snack cooler.(Whistles Jeopardy theme)
Judging is progressing. I'll leave it to each judge to provide his own update, should they so desire.
Last week and this week are midterm exam weeks for me, so I was a bit to busy to finish the judging this weekend. My last one is tomorrow, so if all goes well, I should be able to sit down Wednesday and get all the entries done in one fell swoop.
Well, unless they bugger that up too.
And if you're wondering how I'm posting without having internet at home and not being allowed to do it at work... well, I'm being a bit naughty.
At this moment, I'm inclined to give him the time - in part because the other judges also aren't done yet. As the situation changes, I'll continue to provide updates. For example, if I get scores today from both of the other judges, I'd be very tempted to go with those scores as the final numbers. We'll see what happens.
I'll be putting up comments...soon-ish. I have quite a bit more work to get done in the next few weeks, but I hope to have some time next week to organize my notes into postable comments form.
Hrothgan
In terms of mechanics, Hrothgan worked out quite well. The problem came in with the background fluff, or rather the lack thereof--the Hero Artisan contest is focused on making heroic characters, not just building them but justifying why they're heroic. Heroic doesn't necessarily mean holy and good and all that (witness the theme of this contest!) but it does mean more than three paragraphs of background.
Also, one point to keep in mind is justifying why your character is the level he is, i.e. "Why is my character 12th level?" You say he disguised himself as an adventurer and joined a party to seek revenge...but without giving more details, it sounds like he did this just yesterday, not at the start of an illustrious adventuring career.
Also, one point to keep in mind is justifying why your character is the level he is, i.e. "Why is my character 12th level?" You say he disguised himself as an adventurer and joined a party to seek revenge...but without giving more details, it sounds like he did this just yesterday, not at the start of an illustrious adventuring career.
Hopefully the judging curse that seems to affect Hero Craftsman isn't bleeding into Hero Artisan...
just an update... I've heard from Johnathan, and he's making progress on judging. Batty is still MIA, presumably with continued connection issues. I'll keep everybody up to date as things progress. Hopefully, I'll have a second set of scores soon, which means we can move forward.
Hopefully the judging curse that seems to affect Hero Craftsman isn't bleeding into Hero Artisan...
I'm back in internetland, making with the judgement. Should have numbers in very soon.
Sorry for the delay, everybody.
I'm back in internetland, making with the judgement. Should have numbers in very soon.
Sorry for the delay, everybody.
You mean to say:
"Im in yer intarwebz, judgin yer entriz"
Does that mean if we throw insults and condemnations at the judges, they will go faster? :D
There's that old saying, "Judge not, lest ye be judged."
Does that mean if we throw insults and condemnations at the judges, they will go faster? :D
You can try. They did last time, with mixed results.
"Mixed" in that some of them are conspicuously absent these days.
"Mixed" in that some of them are conspicuously absent these days.
Bah, what do you mean by that? It's not like you can summon Candle Jack to abduct anyone you wa
If I don't hear from the remaining judge in the next couple of days, I'll compile scores based on what I already have and we'll go forward from there. So either way, there should be completion on this in the next 48-72 hours or so.
Honestly though, I'm glad it's finally getting to that point. This contest began in January, didn't it?
Hrothgan
I did think this entry had quite a bit of potential. Although you don't need to write a novel, I think the mere word count of the character's background was entirely insufficient for someone of 12th level. Hrothgan could have been, for all intents and purposes, a level 1 character with that background. I had to take off some heavy points in background just because I couldn't see how he'd become 12th level. Being an apprentice to a warlock isn't quite enough. Also, for someone that had raided the countryside he had a surprisingly short list of enemies. Finally, a gnoll magically disguised as an old man in a city probably has trouble going about incognito when he hits people that ask questions. That sort of thing leads to deep and drawn out conversations with the town guard.
Also, something I didn't take off for, I was confused by the fact that he already had an adventuring party. Not a past one, but an entirely current one. Technically there's no rule against that, but it doesn't go with the feel of the Hero Artisan Contest. I've always thought it was meant to be a hero that could be dropped into a party, not a whole party. Either way, it's not against the rules so no points gone.
Pretty clear and concise. I'd have appreciated some more expanded math, but only a fraction of a point lost for the lack of it.
I'm not sure if you noticed, but the Disguise Self only lasts for 1 hour once a day. Which means either you had to hide within an hour of entering a city or never be within a city for more than an hour. That felt like a small but very important oversight to me that had to either be a background or rules use problem. With the small amount of background information I had to assume it was rules use.
As for theme, I was torn. I could sort of see him trying to redeem his brethren from the devil but not from anything else. Again, a larger background would have covered this but what happens after their liberation (I felt it was much more of a liberation than a redemption entry). Does he and his tribe go back to raiding the land? Do he want to redeem himself for the years of pillaging and raiding? No mention of this in his goals. So from what you gave us, I didn't see the theme implemented very well. Perhaps a character with a Liberation theme (in fact, a very good character with a liberation theme), but not so much for Redemption.
Also, something I didn't take off for, I was confused by the fact that he already had an adventuring party. Not a past one, but an entirely current one. Technically there's no rule against that, but it doesn't go with the feel of the Hero Artisan Contest. I've always thought it was meant to be a hero that could be dropped into a party, not a whole party. Either way, it's not against the rules so no points gone.
Pretty clear and concise. I'd have appreciated some more expanded math, but only a fraction of a point lost for the lack of it.
I'm not sure if you noticed, but the Disguise Self only lasts for 1 hour once a day. Which means either you had to hide within an hour of entering a city or never be within a city for more than an hour. That felt like a small but very important oversight to me that had to either be a background or rules use problem. With the small amount of background information I had to assume it was rules use.
As for theme, I was torn. I could sort of see him trying to redeem his brethren from the devil but not from anything else. Again, a larger background would have covered this but what happens after their liberation (I felt it was much more of a liberation than a redemption entry). Does he and his tribe go back to raiding the land? Do he want to redeem himself for the years of pillaging and raiding? No mention of this in his goals. So from what you gave us, I didn't see the theme implemented very well. Perhaps a character with a Liberation theme (in fact, a very good character with a liberation theme), but not so much for Redemption.
And with that bit of business out of the way, let's move on to the scores for HA2!
Coming in third place and winning a BRONZE medal, with a final average score of 29.167:
Bronze Medal Winner
Wamp Skudder, by Kolsus_Hayl
Wamp Skudder, by Kolsus_Hayl
I'd also like to thank Eldritch_Lord and Johnathan_Vagabond for commenting on my entry. I suppose I could have carried the "Fallen Angel" concept a little father, couldn't I have?
Here's looking forward to the next contest (and hopefully, less random crap happening to the judges during judging time).
... guess I'll save Dashel for a GM-NPC.
I'd love a little more feedback on where to improve, if possible. Only one judge had anything to say about him.
Congrats to the winners, however.
Wow, second to last by over 6 points...
... guess I'll save Dashel for a GM-NPC.
I'd love a little more feedback on where to improve, if possible. Only one judge had anything to say about him.
Congrats to the winners, however.
Yes... the tribulations of being a late entrant -- those who are happy to critique get bored / lazy / inefficient by the time they make it all the way down the line.
I'll see what I can do though...
*rereads*
There are two things that immediately jump out to me upon rereading your backstory -- the first is that there is very little information given on the setting. Where are these characters? Who is the Empress? What town are they in? Needless ambiguities that can be quickly and painlessly explained. Also, I notice that halfway through you change from past tense to present. Consistency is key -- this is a background, and it is my opinion that your initial decision to cast it in the past tense was the correct one.
Other things that jump out at me: Dashel seems a very passive character. He makes no decisions about his newfound powers, he simply uses them. He befriends someone almost identical to his last best friend, then casts him aside to prevent someone else from gaining power. The entire implementation of The Prophet is very "deus ex machina" -- an indescribably powerful character swooping in to save him from certain death. Lastly, and I think this is perhaps most crucial, I don't see any "redemption" here, which, since it was what the character was supposed to focus around, probably lost you several points.
Fear me, for I define the median!
But anyway, congrats to the winners.
Exactly in the middle.
Fear me, for I define the median!
But anyway, congrats to the winners.
Wow, super irony points. I won the "Best Rules Use" award despite being DQed. Hilarious. :D Still, I'll take comfort from being nominated for everything.
Yea deserve the nominations, lad/lass/respectfully-jovial-term-for-neutral-gender. Your entry was marvelous, no doubt about that. Rules, DQs, and the like be damned, in my book, you get the Mithril Medal of the round.
Yea deserve the nominations, lad/lass/respectfully-jovial-term-for-neutral-gender. Your entry was marvelous, no doubt about that. Rules, DQs, and the like be damned, in my book, you get the Mithril Medal of the round.
Dragoncat summed it up very well and truthfully. Tylara67, if these medals weren't virtual and we had a nonvirtual awards ceremony, I'd give you my gold. I'm proud of Margot and glad I won. You blew me away.
Dragoncat, also, you are a phenomenally good writer.
All the Best,
Nani?
Baron Banehallow
I really rather liked the Baron. A bumbling incompetent selfish swindler turned courageous champion of justice and the people. As far as background, although I found it very very creative and a character I would quite enjoy playing alongside, it didn't really explain how he reached twelfth level. Like I've said before, you don't really need a novel, but just a little more on his exploits. The things he might brag about to other people. He basically disappears with this paladin for four months, kicks the kings men out of town, and voila (he says) I'm 12th! Now, I think kicking the kings men out of town is a very 12th level thing. But four months of general 'fighting the good fight' doesn't really lend itself to 12th level. A little more, maybe some specific villages he freed or a general or two that he defeated. I'd have liked to see a few generalities in your Allies/Enemies. Because it's something of a resource summary you might mention the villages and towns he freed from the malicious king, but it was a fairly plump section so no major points for that, just the 12th level thing. A little cliche with the "I met a Paladin and turned my life around" schtick, but I liked that you offered the Paladin's explanation and used Erathis, one of the less 'popular' deities. I also would have liked to have actually seen what turned Gaerth around.
Thematically I thought it fit the theme very well, but not necessarily in a creative way. He was a bumbling awful ruler who's turned his life around and is redeeming himself and his family name. Very good, quite definately the example I would use when telling someone how to make a solid Redemption based character. Because the character himself was very unique and creative this didn't cost you as many points as it would have if he were less well defined.
Thank you soooooooooo much for the individual math sections, which made my job so much easier. That got you some good points for clarity it did it did. Everything was fairly well spelled out and I have no issues with sblocks.
I don't have my scores infront of me, so I'm not sure about your rules use. But generally 4E characters are pretty hard to mess up, so I don't think you had much to worry about here.
Thematically I thought it fit the theme very well, but not necessarily in a creative way. He was a bumbling awful ruler who's turned his life around and is redeeming himself and his family name. Very good, quite definately the example I would use when telling someone how to make a solid Redemption based character. Because the character himself was very unique and creative this didn't cost you as many points as it would have if he were less well defined.
Thank you soooooooooo much for the individual math sections, which made my job so much easier. That got you some good points for clarity it did it did. Everything was fairly well spelled out and I have no issues with sblocks.
I don't have my scores infront of me, so I'm not sure about your rules use. But generally 4E characters are pretty hard to mess up, so I don't think you had much to worry about here.
I'll keep those the same, but do a better job in places where I lapsed into summary, was inconsistent and a little cliche.
I look forward to trying again in the next competition.
I get the feeling that the diversity of the entrants is going to go up, because of the PHB2.
The Rest of my Comments are Here! Rejoice!Baron BanehallowI really rather liked the Baron. A bumbling incompetent selfish swindler turned courageous champion of justice and the people. As far as background, although I found it very very creative and a character I would quite enjoy playing alongside, it didn't really explain how he reached twelfth level. Like I've said before, you don't really need a novel, but just a little more on his exploits. The things he might brag about to other people. He basically disappears with this paladin for four months, kicks the kings men out of town, and voila (he says) I'm 12th! Now, I think kicking the kings men out of town is a very 12th level thing. But four months of general 'fighting the good fight' doesn't really lend itself to 12th level. A little more, maybe some specific villages he freed or a general or two that he defeated. I'd have liked to see a few generalities in your Allies/Enemies. Because it's something of a resource summary you might mention the villages and towns he freed from the malicious king, but it was a fairly plump section so no major points for that, just the 12th level thing. A little cliche with the "I met a Paladin and turned my life around" schtick, but I liked that you offered the Paladin's explanation and used Erathis, one of the less 'popular' deities. I also would have liked to have actually seen what turned Gaerth around.
Thematically I thought it fit the theme very well, but not necessarily in a creative way. He was a bumbling awful ruler who's turned his life around and is redeeming himself and his family name. Very good, quite definately the example I would use when telling someone how to make a solid Redemption based character. Because the character himself was very unique and creative this didn't cost you as many points as it would have if he were less well defined.
Thank you soooooooooo much for the individual math sections, which made my job so much easier. That got you some good points for clarity it did it did. Everything was fairly well spelled out and I have no issues with sblocks.
I don't have my scores infront of me, so I'm not sure about your rules use. But generally 4E characters are pretty hard to mess up, so I don't think you had much to worry about here.
When's the next one?
I get the feeling that the diversity of the entrants is going to go up, because of the PHB2.
I still need one more judge. I'll be sending out PMs tomorrow (for both contests, actually - since the 3e contest also needs one judge).
I think, actually, I need to do a better job as coordinator. On two fronts. First, I need to do a better job pushing for scores to get done within a timely manner. Second, I need to get better at deciding to just go with what I have, once I get scores from two judges.
I've been just gnawing at the bit to make some 4E characters since I failed to make one I liked for this competition and my planned game fell through in favour of less map-and-mini oriented systems. I still need to seek redemption even though I missed the theme.
Congrats to Nani? and all the others who won various medals and awards.
Bah! Would could possibly go wrong? :P
I think, actually, I need to do a better job as coordinator. On two fronts. First, I need to do a better job pushing for scores to get done within a timely manner. Second, I need to get better at deciding to just go with what I have, once I get scores from two judges.
You and wrecan seem to be tempting fate pretty flagrantly here. I think the living spells from the HC#18 competition would like to refresh your memory.:P
Bah! Would could possibly go wrong? :P
I think, actually, I need to do a better job as coordinator. On two fronts. First, I need to do a better job pushing for scores to get done within a timely manner. Second, I need to get better at deciding to just go with what I have, once I get scores from two judges.
I actually began scoring as soon as the entries started coming in.
Then... life happened.
I fully intend to apply that first method to this next competition's scoring, should we captu... find a third judge for such an endevor.
Bah! Would could possibly go wrong? :P
He said the words! HE SAID THE WORDS!
*runs screaming for cover*
Hey, look! I found an eligible judge!
* trips Dragoncat *
Hey, look! I found an eligible judge!
How fascinating. You must really tell us all about in, in great detail, when--LOOK BEHIND YOU, A THREE-HEADED MONKEY!
*digs escape tunnel*
Any luck with a third judge?
I thought Zherog said in the general HA thread that he had found a third judge, but that was a week ago, and there's been nothing since then.
All the Best,
Nani?
HA3 should be up today, tomorrow at the latest.