Big. Damn. Heroes. (OOC) (Open)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Light =&gt; Light: Human Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: John Birch on 10-07-2022, 20:22:52</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Big. Damn. Heroes. (OOC) (Open)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>John Birch</strong> on <strong>10-07-2022, 20:22:52</strong>
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				For more info, click here to visit the interest check! (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=343577.0)<br><br>It’s a hot, dusty summer day in the frontier town of Daymare– a place where everybody is a stranger and nobody stays for long. You get all kinds here: Nagaran traders, tieflings on pilgrimage to the Ashlands, refugees from the Spice Isles adrift and forlorn, gruff Rose Army troops on patrol– and, of course, from all corners of the world, adventurers. That’s where you come in, on that hot summer day, standing in front of the bulletin board outside Daymare’s dingy tavern, ignoring the sounds of drunken yelling and the occasional shattered glass as you read the board’s latest addition.<br><br>Wanted: big damn heroes.<br><br>Well, it’s not the most eloquent job posting, but it sure catches your eye, and even manages to sustain your interest after it becomes apparent it’s a crappy job polished up with a little rhetorical spitshine. It seems a certain Captain Qasval is looking for five to seven people who know their way around a sword (or an axe, or a bow, or a staff) to run protection in a little village east of Daymare– a village that, just the prior week, was attacked by suspiciously well-armed and well-trained bandits. The villagers managed to stave off the first attack, but they’re afraid it was just a feint to test their strength, and that the ‘bandits’ will be back soon to finish the job. This, the job listing declares, is what heroism is all about– helping the helpless, defending the weak, and kicking butt in the process. These people need help. They need, as the mysterious Captain Qasval puts it, big damn heroes.<br><br>All in all, it’s a very extravagant posting for what basically just amounts to swatting flies away from a dingy little village and not being very well paid for it at that. But maybe you need the money. Maybe you’ve got nothing better to do. Maybe, just maybe, the captain’s enthusiasm and verve has gotten to you. Either way, you figure it’ll be a simple job. After all, it’s not the sort of thing that usually ends up turning into an epic quest of world-changing proportions, right?<br><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Some expectations and rules</div><div class="spoiler_body">1. As expressed in the interest check, this is a freeform RP that will not be using any RPG systems or mechanics (ie, no dice rolls, no leveling up, no stats, etc). Rather than being based on either an existing RPG setting or a world of my creation, I'd like for the world this RP takes place in to be the collaborative product of all the RPers' imagination and world-building; I'll lay the basic foundation, including elements crucial to the plot, but for the most part, I want folks to be able to come in with their own ideas for the world, as well as for subplots and side quests. I will periodically update this thread's 'A World in Progress' section with lore from the RPers about new nations, cultures, and peoples as we work together to flesh out the world and make it come alive.<br><br>2. This RP will feature violence (I mean, what fantasy adventure doesn't?) that may include things like decapitation, limbs being chopped off, people getting set on fire, etc, although preferably not in gratuitous detail. Smut won't be a feature of this roleplay and anything heavier than kissing should fade to black. What you write on your own time ain't no business of mine, so have at it in PMs if you want.<br><br>3. My only requirement in terms of writing style is that you write in the past tense and in the third person. In terms of writing level, I'm looking for reasonably advanced writers. The pace will be slow to moderate.<br><br>4. I'm aiming to bring on five to seven RPers for this. I'll be accepting the characters that I feel will mesh well with the spirit of the roleplay and bring some interesting subplots, arcs, and relationships to the story, not on a first-come-first-serve basis. If I don't accept your character, it's nothing personal; in an RP as character-driven as this, having the right cast is crucial, and sometimes even the best writer doesn't come up with the most fitting character.<br><br>5. While the job posting will be the initial thing that brings characters together, there's no reason that some can't know each other from prior encounters, or that two of them can't be traveling/working together at the start of the RP. Feel free to reach out to the other RPers and do some brainstorming before the RP starts!<br><br>6. I won't put too many restrictions on world-building, since I want it to be an open and collaborative process, but I don't want to see any races that are inherently evil a la D&amp;D-- no sentient races that universally or even mostly have a specific alignment. If you want to play an orc or a goblin, go for it; don't feel obligated to be a half-orc or something just because D&amp;D says a full orc has to be evil.<br></div></div><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Character sheet</div><div class="spoiler_body"><br>Name:<br><br>Race: (Feel free to go with any of the classic fantasy races, something from D&amp;D, or something of your own invention-- if you go with something of your own, please include some information on the race for the benefit of the rest of us, either in this section or separately during worldbuilding)<br><br>Class: (Again, feel free to just crib something from D&amp;D or make something up with a little description; this field will have no mechanical bearing on what your character can and can't do and is just a shorthand way of giving us a general sense of your character's style and skills, which you'll get more into further down)<br><br>Age:<br><br>Appearance: (Include a brief description, picture/art optional but not necessary)<br><br>Personality: (What is your character like?)<br><br>Background: (You can give us a full biography of your character or just the bare minimum of what others might be able to tell about them when first meeting them-- or nothing at all; it's up to you)<br><br>Skills: (What is your character good at? This includes not just combat skills but things like art, medicine, cooking, juggling, the like)<br><br>Language(s): (We're going with the D&amp;D method of Common as a lingua franca, but what else can your character speak? This is an opportunity to do a little world-building and help flesh out the setting and your character)<br><br>Extras: (Anything you think is worth making explicit that isn't covered above!)<br></div></div><br><div align="center">Cast of Characters...<br><br>Captain Qasval (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=343624.msg16230723#msg16230723)<br>Priyantha Sarmatyu-Dharmayu (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=343624.msg16233270#msg16233270)<br>Deluna Dolor (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=343624.msg16232388#msg16232388)<br>Valstadt Averus (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=343624.msg16255713#msg16255713)<br>Vylara of Stonewood Forest (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=343624.msg16231992#msg16231992)<br>Zeksi Hasah (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=343624.msg16241449#msg16241449)<br>Maksym the Swift (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=343624.msg16244222#msg16244222)<br></div>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Big. Damn. Heroes. (OOC) (Open)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>John Birch</strong> on <strong>10-07-2022, 20:23:35</strong>
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				<div align="center">A World in Progress…</div><br>The world, as far as anyone knows, is a sprawling landmass surrounded on all sides by endless ocean; attempts have been made to cross the seas, but most have made it a matter of a few hundred miles before turning back without sighting land, and those who have gone further have never been heard from again. Across the breadth of the world are forests, deserts, mountains, tundras, rivers, wastelands, prairies, islands on the periphery-- great cities and homely villages, vast empires and humble kingdoms, each of which is home to all kinds of peoples, cultures, and races, each of which practices all kinds of faiths, worships all kinds of deities.<br><br>Below is just a hint of the things to be seen, but this is a world in progress, a world forever being built and shaped, and there’s always more to be added…<br><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Nations and Realms of the World</div><div class="spoiler_body"><br><span class="bbc_u">The Rose Empire</span><br><br>Known as Rue Pantaz or Pantazia in the language of the empire’s founders, the Mard Pantaz (or ‘People of the Rose’), the Rose Empire is a sprawling, multiethnic empire that controls a vast swathe of the southwest of the continent. The Mard Pantaz consider it their destiny to rule the world, and this conviction-- along with a military might that draws on the strength of a hundred different peoples and races-- drives the empire's endless campaigns to conquer land and assimilate new citizens.<br><br>Capital: The enormous, sweltering city of Chatari, population one million, built on the edge of the Great Pantazian Rainforest; the name derives from a term in the Old Pantazian language whose meaning has been forgotten. Other major cities include Port Sunrise, on the southern coast, and Sunscorch, at the heart of the Rose Desert that spans the northwest of the empire.<br>Geography: Covering nearly 3 million square miles, Pantazia is a microcosm of the world itself, containing virtually all biomes and terrains other than tundra. Nearly a quarter of the empire is dominated by the vast Rose Desert; to the east lies the Great Pantazian Rainforest, the ancestral homeland of the Mard Pantaz, while the southwest coast is characterized by marshes and stretches of green hills.<br>Demographics: Extremely diverse, with virtually all races represented throughout the empire, but the founders and ruling classes belong to a human ethnogroup called the Mard Pantaz. Originally from the great rainforest to the south of the continent, the Mard Pantaz began their first campaign of expansion nearly a thousand years ago, and have since swallowed up countless nations, kingdoms, and realms in their quest to control the world and impose a kind of Pax Pantazia on all living things.<br>Language(s): The lingua franca is Pantazian, but there are as many languages spoken as there are cultures, and the Mard Pantaz, to their credit, generally aren't interested in forcing the people they conquer to speak their language. Pantazian is typically the language of government, business, and mixed groups, but conquered peoples are free to continue speaking their own languages, and in some states within the empire, just a fraction of the population can actually speak Pantazian.<br>Political system: The Rose Emperor– a title currently held by Sazir II, now in her 5th year as monarch– exercises ultimate authority, but smaller regions and cities are permitted to elect councils and administrators that exercise a surprising degree of autonomy. Over the past century these councils, as well as corrupt bureaucrats and advisors, have eroded the authority of the Rose Throne, although Sazir II is ambitious and determined to restore the prestige and power of the Emperor.<br><br><span class="bbc_u">The Spice Isles</span><br><br>Just off the southwestern coast of the world lie a string of islands, renowned across the land for their songs, their complex languages, and their eponymous spices. Once proudly independent, the Spice Isles were conquered fifteen years ago by the Pantazians, and while some parts of the archipelago have settled into a sullen but quiet peace, others are wracked by a brutal guerrilla campaign against imperial occupation. Islanders have historically been rare on the mainland, but refugees from the Isles have become an increasingly familiar sight since the invasion.<br><br>Capital: The Spice Isles have never been unified under a single, centralized state, and have never had a capital. The largest city in the Isles, home to some 12,000 people, is Masnawwuf, on the island of Qawsa', and it is from Masnawwuf that the Empire rules (or attempts to rule) the Isles; otherwise, settlements tend to be small.<br>Geography: The Isles consist of some sixty or so islands, most of them populated, many of them shrouded in dry tropical woodland with stretches of high shrubland interspersed here and there. The weather is warm year-round, with a long dry season and brief periods of heavy rain.<br>Demographics: The Isles are almost ubiquitously populated by native human Spice Islanders, of which there are at least three dozen ethnic groups.<br>Language(s): The lingua franca of the Isles is Zawla' Yazani (literally, "Island Talk"); the language is notoriously difficult for outsiders, sporting sounds foreign to Common (like the pharyngeal fricative, denoted in Common script with a ‘) and a byzantine grammatical system. Each island generally has a unique dialect or sub-language-- some of them more than one, and many of which are not mutually intelligible-- that is spoken as the first language by its denizens.<br>Political system: As the Rose Empire's latest acquisition, and a particularly troublesome one, the Isles are formally ruled over by a military governor, General Rozehir Ashali, who governs from Masnawwuf; however, there are still many parts of the archipelago where the empire's control remains hotly contested.<br><br><span class="bbc_u">Nagara</span><br><br>A great city-state that sits perched at the southernmost point of the Western Peninsula, Nagara had its modest beginnings as a ramshackle outpost established hundreds of years ago by refugees fleeing the Rose Empire’s ravenous appetite for conquest. Since then, it has blossomed into a thriving metropolis, buoyed by robust trade with other nations and protected by a phenomenon unique to Nagara: its legion of corpse soldiers, dead bodies imbued with new life and tremendous strength by Nagarite necromancers.<br><br>Capital: None; Nagara is a city-state with a population just shy of a million people. The city core is a walled expanse at the end of the Western Peninsula, with stretches of farmland that help feed and sustain the city spread around it up to the Sawtooth Mountains that hold the Pantazians at bay.<br>Geography: From its vantage point on the coast, Nagara experiences fairly temperate weather, with warm, sunny summers and cool but gentle winters. It is a land of green and blue, with the ocean to the west and rolling hillsides and farmland to the east. The great, jagged Sawtooth Mountains serve as a natural boundary between Nagara and the Rose Empire.<br>Demographics: Mostly human, although Nagara’s prosperity and penchant for trade has brought people from all over the world to its shores.<br>Language(s): A true cosmopolis, Nagara’s residents are bound together only by Common; otherwise, a hundred languages can be heard on its streets.<br>Political system: Power rests primarily with three Regent Captains, elected to staggered four-year terms and advised by an elected Council of Wisdom; the current Regent Captains are Khavari Junth, Ember Genasir, and Immeral Fornyth. The military plays a major role in Nagarite politics, however, with the generals frequently getting involved on grounds of ‘city security’.<br><br><span class="bbc_u">Vijnaya</span> (by yaracyrrah)<br><br>Capital: Gharamla (pop. 40,000) is the primary center for the Panchayat (see below).&nbsp; Aprambhala (pop. 80,000) is Vijnaya's largest city and only major port.&nbsp; The vast majority of Vijnayans live in smaller settlements of some thousands of persons each.<br>Geography: Vijnaya is a large island plus associated smaller islands and islets.&nbsp; The climate is tropical.&nbsp; Fertile land and all vital natural resources and plentiful, and apart from the dense jungle and mountains of the main island's center, there are few significant obstacles to overland travel.&nbsp; The surrounding seas, on the other hand, are notoriously hazardous, a significant factor in Vijnaya's relative isolation.<br>Demographics: All native Vijnayans are human, and they are ethnically and culturally homogeneous.&nbsp; The people of Vijnaya organize themselves by their vocations or Paths.&nbsp; Children and adolescents study whatever Paths catch their interest and are not expected to prioritize or fully dedicate themselves; to formally choose a Path is to become an adult in Vijnayan society.<br>Language(s): Vijnayan.&nbsp; Merchants in Aprambhala know enough Common to trade with foreigners; few other Vijnayans learn Common unless they intend to travel.<br>Political system: Vijnaya is governed, loosely speaking, by the disciples of the Panchayat path, who serve as advisers and mediators when communal decisions (at any level) must be made.<br><br><span class="bbc_u">Sekhar Ghol</span><br><br>Sequestered in the southeast corner of the world, Sekhar Ghol is a strange and gloomy land, a place where worship of the Buried Gods-- heresy virtually everywhere else-- is the law of the land. For many Gholis, the world is perched on the cusp of oblivion, and they alone carry the torch of truth that can save the souls of the world. This sense of doomed purpose seems to be responsible both for the joyless atmosphere that permeates Sekhar Ghol and for the Gholis' willingness to tolerate a repressive, frequently violent political system.<br><br>Capital: The city of Choria, population 325,000, houses the Tombs of the Saints-- a vast underground network of shrines that serves as the capital of Sekhar Ghol. From the tombs, amongst the remains of their forebearers, the Gravekeepers rule the land.<br>Geography: Sekhar Ghol is bounded to the west by the Twenty Jewels of Heaven, a vast mountain range running south-to-north; to the north by the Moonlight River; and to the east and south by the sea.<br>Demographics: Humans and dwarves comprise about four-fifths of Sekhar Ghol’s population, with the remainder made up chiefly of halflings, tieflings, and a sundry mix of people unlucky enough to wind up in Sekhar Ghol.<br>Language(s): Sekhar Ghol has no widely spoken 'native' language; the vast majority of Gholis simply speak Common. The Gravekeepers speak a liturgical language that is said to be a rendering of the Buried Gods' own language, passed down by the Mad Prophet Bellasar himself, but this language is known only to Gravekeepers and their scribes.<br>Political system: The Gravekeepers– the powerful priestly class– exercise complete authority in Sekhar Ghol, where public life is oriented around worship of the Buried Gods. Power struggles amongst the Gravekeepers are endemic and often vicious; factions are ever-shifting, and losing sway could mean being branded as a heretic– with all the horrors that entails. Currently, a Gravekeeper named Audhil has managed to cobble together a ruling faction based on a purist and deeply conservative interpretation of the Buried Scriptures– and, more alarmingly for Sekhar Ghol’s neighbors, a belief that the Scriptures must be brought to other nations, by force if necessary.<br><br><span class="bbc_u">The Unconquered Marshes</span><br><br>Once upon a time, the orcs ruled an empire legendary for its feats of science and engineering, and for the diversity of its client races-- until it became a casualty of the enterprising Mard Pantaz to its south. Devastated by the ensuing war, the orcs withdrew to a small backwater corner of their lands, ceding the rest to the new Rose Empire. They've since managed to rebuild a respectable if modest society, but they haven't forgotten the great empire they once ruled-- or, for that matter, forgiven the Mard Pantaz for destroying it.<br><br>Capital: The Unconquered Marshes are mostly decentralized and have no capital; the largest village is Murren’s Fall with a population of 9,000, ruled by the House of Ilor.<br>Geography: The marshes occupy some seven thousand square miles dominated by wetlands, swamps, and bogs. Towards the south, on the border of the Rose Empire, the marshes give way to stretches of green fields, dotted with the handful of farms that are largely responsible for feeding the people of the Marshes.<br>Demographics: Almost entirely orcs, as well as their former client races, including kobolds, goblins, and those tieflings who have not left for the Ashlands. Many half-orcs also call the Marshes home, finding an acceptance among the orc Houses that has been denied to them elsewhere.<br>Language(s): The orcish languages are widely spoken, with Western Orcish serving as a kind of lingua franca alongside the smaller dialects and the various client race languages.<br>Political system: No overarching government exists over the Marshes; instead, each village is ruled as an independent fiefdom by one of the various orc Houses. Once prominent aristocratic families in the old orcish realm, the Houses are helmed by an Elder who acts as the village’s virtual monarch. Once a year, the House Elders convene in a different village around the Marshes to discuss issues relevant to the Marshes as a whole, and to each of the Houses. The next such meeting is to be held in the territory of House Mileva, whose Elder-- Mileva Arren-- has as of late been pushing for the establishment of a central government in the Marshes; only time will tell if her quest proves successful.<br><br></div></div><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Regions and landmarks</div><div class="spoiler_body"><br><br><br></div></div><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Faiths and deities</div><div class="spoiler_body"><br><span class="bbc_u">The Buried Gods</span><br><br>Centuries ago, the Mad Prophet Bellasar began preaching a message that shocked listeners from one end of the continent to the other: the great gods and goddesses to whom so many pray and swear fealty, from whom so many derive strength and power, are false, lesser creatures. The true creators of the world, the true powers that be, have lain inert and asleep since time immemorial– but, Bellasar warned, they wouldn’t be for long, and only those who renounced their false gods would be spared when the Buried Gods returned.<br><br>For the most part, Bellasar’s message landed with a thud; most were appalled that someone would so blatantly disrespect the gods, and he was run out of towns across the world by angry mobs. After a year of itinerant preaching, Bellasar was arrested in an ancient kingdom that no longer exists and put to death for his heresies. It’s been hundreds of years since, and the Buried Gods are nowhere to be seen. But the message Bellasar brought to the world has survived, and has even become the majority religion amongst the people of the bleak, gloomy country of Sekhar Ghol. Outside the borders of that realm, adherents to the Cult of the Buried Gods tend to be looked upon with distrust and fear; in some places, cultists are routinely discovered and killed for fear that their heresy will bring down the wrath of the gods. They are considered wicked, devious, manipulative, as delusional as their ancient prophet himself.<br><br>The truth, of course, is never so straightforward. Most cultists are convinced that the Buried Gods will be returning within their own lifetimes, and they are desperate to rescue as many people as possible from the Buried Gods’ wrath. They may not all be paragons of virtue, but many place themselves at great risk– social ostracization at best, death at worst– to save the souls of their peers, although some may have ulterior motives.<br><br>Cultists hold faithful to a nameless tome referred to only as ‘the book’ or ‘our book’, allegedly written by Bellasar during his lifetime (although there is some evidence that it was actually written years after his death by his closest disciples). The book delineates certain rituals for delaying the return of the Buried Gods so that evangelists can reach more souls; the priests and priestesses of Sekhar Ghol, known as Gravekeepers, hold services during which they sing, chant softly, and burn incense in an effort to keep their gods asleep. The book also claims that those who save many souls– that is, convert many apostates– will be favored by the Buried Gods when they return, so while many cult evangelists are driven by humanitarianism, some are certainly a little less altruistic.<br><br><span class="bbc_u">Desert Folklore</span><br><br>A general term for a philosophy practiced in the Rose Desert, adherents to desert folklore, known colloquially as Wanderers, are a nomadic sect that holds that enlightenment can never be achieved through permanence in the physical world; thus its followers travel the desert, never staying in one place for long. Wanderers adhere to no holy book or written set of rules, and their traditions are oral, passed down from master to student. As such, in some sense, each Wanderer practices their own version of the faith, following what they learned from their master and then eventually taking a student of their own.<br><br>The one common belief binding all Wanderers together, aside from their love of the open road and belief in nomadism as the path to enlightenment, is their veneration of the Friend. The Friend, according to desert folklore, was a primordial nomad who, accompanied only by a nameless disciple, took to wandering the desert while others settled in towns and founded cities, seeking out its oases and criss-crossing its vast dunes. One night, the student awoke to find the Friend had vanished in the dead of night-- had, according to desert folklore, become one with the desert, had achieved enlightenment, had attained the true form of permanence. Since then, Wanderers have sought to follow in the Friend’s footsteps; many regard the Friend as something like a guide-- indeed, as a friend-- and pray to them for counsel and direction. Others believe that to call upon the Friend for guidance is to forget that the Friend attained permanence only by being lost. This aspect of their faith is widely misunderstood, as outsiders frequently assume the Friend is a deity and the Wanderers are monotheists.<br><br>Many Wanderers believe that at the root of all human wants, joys, and pains is the longing for permanence-- for love that lasts forever, for friends whose paths never part, for a home that will always be home. Such permanence is impossible in the physical world, because all things have a beginning and an ending: people grow old and die, cities and homes decay and fall apart, friends drift apart and lovers find themselves parting ways. The only solution, they believe, is to seek permanence not in the physical world, but in a place beyond, a place that can be found only by parting with all earthly connections and becoming a vagrant. There, it is said, one will never long for home, will never know the pain of parting, will never yearn to love and be loved.<br><br>There are other precepts which, though they are not universal, are widespread and have become almost stereotypes for Wanderers. For example, many abstain from alcohol, drugs, excessive food, profanity, and violence. Many also are poets, singers, and musicians. For some, art serves as a way of venerating the Friend or pointing out the anguish of impermanence; for others, it’s just a way to make some money during their travels.<br></div></div>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Big. Damn. Heroes. (OOC) (Open)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>John Birch</strong> on <strong>11-07-2022, 02:25:19</strong>
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				<div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Captain Qasval</div><div class="spoiler_body">Name: Captain Qasval. What’s her given name? Why does she prefer her family name? What the hell is she a captain of? These questions will be met with no further explanation than a hearty laugh, a slap on the back, and a pleasant reminder that you’re wasting time asking silly questions when there are epic adventures to be had.<br><br>Race: Human, likely from one of the Spice Islander peoples.<br><br>Age: 30.<br><br>Appearance: A tall, sturdy woman, more handsome than anything else, Qasval has brown skin and a lion’s mane of black curls that shroud her broad shoulders like a cloak. She has a face like carved sandstone, with thin lips that seem fixed in a daring grin and slender brown eyes that light up with a touch of mischief whenever she’s about to do something very bold and very stupid. An experienced traveler, she favors light, mobile fare, enough to protect her from the elements (and, very importantly, look cool doing it); she’s rarely to be seen without a clearly old and well-worn duster that she picked up at some point in her travels, and she wears a simple steel longsword at her side.<br><br>Personality: Qasval is defined by two things: her absolute confidence in herself, and her absolute confidence in the world and the people around her. The world is a fundamentally good place; evil is an abnormality that must be rooted out by heroes so that fundamental goodness can be restored. She appears to be entirely unacquainted with the concept of quitting and she takes every hardship as a challenge that, she’s certain, she and her friends will inevitably rise to and overcome. She’s also impulsive, never thinks before she acts, and will frequently do stupid and counterproductive things for no other reason than because she believes it will look cool and impress any pretty ladies who happen to be watching.<br><br>All in all, a particularly uncharitable observer might be forgiven for finding Qasval a little grating, certainly for thinking she’s a bit of an idiot (she is), but there’s something oddly compelling about the sheer, artless sincerity of her desire to do good. She’s unfailingly warm and friendly to everybody she comes across, and despite her flair for dramatics and general bone-headedness, she loves nothing more than to connect with others for who they are and who she is– a longing accentuated by the reality that Qasval’s naive worldview and uncomplicated relationship with life can only be born from a complete lack of those connections.<br><br>Class: A straight-up, classic fighter.<br><br>Skills: Qasval is not a particularly talented combatant– better at insinuating combat prowess, thanks to her powerful build and borderline delusional self-confidence, than at fighting itself, although she's remarkably tough and can take some serious damage without throwing in the towel. She can handle, say, your average bandit, even go toe-to-toe with a Rose Army grunt, but her odds are long against anything much more than that, and she certainly doesn’t have the chops to take on multiple adversaries herself. She also has less than zero aptitude with a bow, wouldn’t know a spell scroll from her own rear end, and quickly loses interest once talk of tactics grows any more sophisticated than ‘get in there and kick some ass’.<br><br>No, what makes Qasval extraordinary isn’t her skill with a sword or her head for strategy: it’s the strange, magnetic pull she seems to exert on the world around her. Qasval was simply born to bring people together. Her decisiveness, her integrity, her willingness to stop at nothing to do right and keep others safe, her simple and genuine love for the people she’s decided are her friends, all produce a kind of magnetism that Qasval herself appears to be blithely unaware of. And her absolute belief in herself and others seems infectious, inspiring others to believe that maybe, just maybe, they’re capable of the incredible things Qasval thinks they are. She also has a curious ability to connect the events, people, and apparent coincidences around her and see in them a kind of logic that seems bizarre and fanciful to others-- but which, sometimes, proves oddly accurate. In other words, she has a knack for stumbling across the plot, and then doggedly following it wherever it goes.<br><br>Aside from that, she’s a decent singer– though more for her enthusiasm and experience than any natural beauty in her voice– a fine cook, and a hell of a fisherwoman.<br><br>Background: For all her zest and love of people, the enigmatic Captain Qasval isn’t one for tell-alls. Who she is, where she’s from, what her story is, these questions have neither meaning nor relevance as far as Qasval’s concerned. Her penchant for singing, ability to gut and cook a fish about a hundred different ways, and telltale accent when speaking Common– a slow, languid drawl– all suggest she's a native of the Spice Isles, a small archipelago off the southwest coast of the continent, renowned as much for its sea shanties as for its eponymous spices. Some fifteen years ago, the Isles became the latest victim of the sprawling Rose Empire’s insatiable appetite for conquest, and though the campaign and subsequent occupation has been a brutal affair for the Empire, viciously resisted by the Islanders, it has been doubly so for the Isles. In the decade and a half since, thousands of refugees have fled the Isles for the mainland, some of them veterans of the war seeking to avoid Pantazian persecution. It’s possible the woman now known as Qasval was among them. She certainly isn't telling.<br><br>Language(s): Aside from Common, Qasval speaks Zawla’ Yazani, the lingua franca of the Spice Isles, but her native language is Thassawi, the dialect of her native island of Thassaw. Among the many Islander tongues and dialects, Thassawi is perhaps the most unlike Zawla' Yazani, and contains both features and vocabulary alien to the other languages of the Isles. She also has a solid command of Pantazian.</div></div>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Big. Damn. Heroes. (OOC) (Open)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AndyZ</strong> on <strong>12-07-2022, 15:48:28</strong>
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				<div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Vylara of Stonewood Forest</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/0f/21A2C091-10B3-4EBF-AFA6-3A4D9CE24C5A.png)</div><br>Name: Vylara of Stonewood Forest<br><br>Race: Elf<br><br>Class: Arcane Archer<br><br>Age: 143<br><br>Appearance: Unlike the picture, she traditionally wears studded leather armor and doesn’t braid her hair.&nbsp; How she and other elves are able to do various acrobatics with their hair never seeming to get in the way of their vision has led many a hard to speculate some sort of pact with ancient wind spirits.<br><br>Personality: Vylara mixes a kind-heartedness with a simple practicality that comes reminiscent of the gentler sides of nature.&nbsp; She rarely has much money but is happy to share her talents, bartering for what little she needs.<br><br>Background: For those few who have heard of it, Stonewood Forest is weeks of travel away on foot, a strange land originally known as Emerald Forest that used to be elven territory.&nbsp; A few decades ago, something happened to turn the entire vegetation and most of the wildlife (but thankfully none of the elves themselves) into stone, rendering the entire area uninhabitable.&nbsp; Although some say it’s the work of an evil spellcaster, the truth is not widely known.<br><br>Since then, Vylara has left her homeland in the hopes of finding a cure, performing various good works and helping out where she can.&nbsp; Her hope is to build enough goodwill to draw the attention of a powerful spellcaster who might be able to lift the curse, but she understands just how long such a process might take.&nbsp; Still, she’s quite young by elven standards and has centuries ahead of her.<br><br>For the most part, Vylara is content with the wilderness and has little use for money, but she does have a bit of a penchant for elven wine, and even though she rarely has much in the way of gold coin, it can be nice to have for emergencies or unusual situations.<br><br>Skills:<br><br><ul class="bbc_list"><li>Her elven heritage lets her do things like see in as little illumination as starlight, trance for four hours a night, and so on.</li><li>The bow that Vylara carries is actually a focus, with the actual wood consisting of little more than the grip.&nbsp; Her arcane skill allows her to manifest the rest of the bow out of magical energy, amplifying the weapon’s usual draw strength and distance.</li><li>Vylara can manifest a single object (not counting the bow) out of magical energy at a time, not to exceed a yard in any dimension, though it only persists for a few moments after she releases it.&nbsp; Most commonly, this is an arrow.</li><li>Other minor magical effects are likewise within her purview, such as igniting or extinguishing highly-combustible objects (such as a torch or campfire), cleaning and drying a person and their belongings (how do you think elves avoid being caked in filth as they traverse the wilderness?), and mending damage to inanimate objects.&nbsp; She’s been trying to master the spell of whispering into the wind and having her words carry, but attempts have ended in failure so far, let alone hearing a reply.</li><li>Her quiver is half full of arrows that can channel various magical effects, such as calling forth a mana storm that damages all living things within a few yards, freezing its target in a block of ice, phasing through inanimate objects that were providing cover in order to hit a living enemy, or restrain the target in magical chains.&nbsp; Although the bards commonly tell stories of arcane archers who fire arrows to make people fall in love with them, Vylara claims not to know how to work that spell.&nbsp; Each arrow must be painstakingly carved and then etched with specific runes, a process that takes several hours per arrow but doesn’t require absolute concentration, allowing her to carry on light conversation during the process.</li><li>Vylara is exceptionally talented at gymnastics and acrobatics.&nbsp; Given enough space to operate, such as jumping from rooftop to rooftop, she can effortlessly maneuver to positions to get off good shots, as well as evade mundane throwing weapons.</li><li>Having grown up in the forest, Vylara’s woodland survival skills are exceptional.&nbsp; When dealing with expensive cities, she often teams up with a tanner, although she won’t hunt animals she knows to be endangered.</li><li>Although she’s not exceptional with a flute, she’s more than passable, and knows a few dozen Elvish songs.&nbsp; When times are hard, game is scarce, and she needs coin, she’ll sit and perform for money with a magically conjured flute.</li><li>Her weaknesses are exactly what one might expect.&nbsp; In a cramped hallway in close quarters, she might conjure a shortsword and hold her own against a goblin or mundane bandit, but an accomplished swordsman or monster would slice her apart.&nbsp; Anything that moves faster than a thrown weapon so that she can’t see and hear it in order to dodge it will prevent her from dodging.&nbsp; Being in an area of anti-magic means she can’t do much more than run or draw the dagger hidden in her right boot.</li></ul><br>Language(s): Vylara is fluent in Common, Draconic (the language of her magical runes), Elvish, and Sylvan.&nbsp; She’s also picked up a handful of useful words in trading languages like Pantazian and Zawla’ Yazani, not allowing for significant conversation but allowing for barter for meat and furs with trading sailors and other traveling merchants.&nbsp; Mistaken words aren’t uncommon, and she often has to draw pictures in the dirt when she doesn’t know the right word, but reasonable patience and effort usually allows for enough communication for a trade.<br><br>Extras: I can’t shake the feeling I’ve forgotten something, but if I remember it, I’ll ask later.<br></div></div>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Big. Damn. Heroes. (OOC) (Open)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xurtan</strong> on <strong>12-07-2022, 22:25:21</strong>
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				<div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Halgen Hoarfrost</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div class="floatright">(https://pbs.twimg.com/media/FXUdKRtUsAYlGZ7?format=jpg&amp;name=large)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Halgen Hoarfrost of Tribe Algid. Yes, <em>that</em> Tribe Algid, made famous–or perhaps infamous–in some lands by following the self-styled Dark God Drogthamon in his attempt to conquer the northern parts of the world. Tribe Algid were feared not for their combat prowess, but rather their skill at blacksmithing and enchanting. It is said they were able to forge the very souls of their enemies into shape, creating enchanted armor, weaponry, and relics of great power. As far as most people are aware, they were executed to the man when Drogthamon was slain by a group of heroes some two centuries ago.<br><br><strong>Race:</strong> Minotaur. A species from beyond the mountains to the far north, they are tribular, insular, and unused to dealing with outsiders. The land is inhospitable enough to make warring amongst each other untenable, and their society is built upon worship of the seasons. A given tribe tends to worship only one aspect of a season or weather type, and being nomadic any particular tribe is likely to be found ‘following’ the weather of their preference, moving from place to place. <br><br>As war would see them all destroyed and resources are scarce, the sharing of supplies is expected among the varying peoples. Despite this, there’s much friendly haggling and bartering of oaths, favors, and information between minotaurs, something they tend to hoard for when they become aware of someone having something they particularly want. <br><br>With small populations and many mouths to feed discouraged, should a tribe become too large it will either break apart into smaller ones or send a few of its stronger members out into the world to find their way. In this way while minotaur are uncommon outside of the steppes, they are not unheard of. Occasionally one will find their way in a King’s employ, as a blacksmith, merchant guard, or some other purpose suited to an individual’s will. <br><br>As a rule they distrust liars and oathbreakers, equating such things to stealing. <br><br>The only historically notable group of minotaur was that of Tribe Algid, who left the steppes en masse to follow Drogthamon when he promised them a better life, feeding into their pride, ambition, and lust for knowledge. In many ways they were the worst of the Winter tribes, and even now other minotaur do not speak of them, as if they were a shame upon the people at large. <br><br><strong>Class:</strong> Soulforger Apprentice. A practically unheard of practice known largely only to historians at this point, Soulforgers are able to pull souls from living bodies and place them in icy vessels which are then pounded to shape. The soul lives on to power the enchantment and protect the object whether it be armor, jewelry, weapon, or some other manifestation of creation. It is said the soul is conscious throughout, and at their prominence it was whispered the very screams of the soul were what made them so effective. After the death of Drogthamon and slaying of Tribe Algid, any written knowledge of such skills were destroyed at best, and suppressed at worst. The more powerful the soul, the more powerful the enchantment. <br><br><strong>Age:</strong> 22<br><br><strong>Appearance:</strong> Standing at a quite massive eight feet tall on two legs, Halgen appears gray in some light, blue in others. The minotaur has slightly shaggy hair, and a horn protrudes on either side of his bovine-shaped head, curving sharply to a point. The man is quite muscular and largely humanoid in appearance other than his cloven feet, bovine face, and tail. His skin appears to be unmarred by scar or age, with no particularly defining marks. It is rare he is seen wearing anything except a loincloth when it comes to clothing, finding the southern lands warmer than he’d prefer. At an effort of modesty, if pressed he will concede to wearing a large brown cloak that he travels with, which doubles as a blanket. Beyond that, the only things he possesses are a belt with a coin purse, a potion bandolier that goes down diagonally over his chest, a worn leather backpack, and a satchel that rests on his hip, within which is an odd book that appears to be made of pure ice. <br><br><strong>Personality:</strong> Perhaps unexpectedly so for one of the Winter aspect tribes, Halgen is quick to anger. It’s something he struggles with and dislikes of himself, seemingly almost ashamed of that part of his personality. Despite that he has a good head on his shoulders and often comes off as somewhat scholarly and learned, though at times it’s almost as if he’s forcing it. He’s also competitive and surprisingly easy to goad into a bet, and has a secret fondness for spicy foods and trying new things. Like all minotaur he doesn’t quite grok the whole ‘currency’ system, finding it annoying more than anything, and much prefers to trade in favors or information. Nonetheless he will do as the humans do while he travels their lands, if not without a complaint or two–if not about their currency, then about their weather or prudish attitudes. His main love is blacksmithing, and it’s easy to get him talking about the subject in detail. He is, admittedly, easy to push to talk in <em>general</em> with a quick compliment or appreciation for his skills, as if he’s eager to show off or hasn’t generally had them well received in the past. Considering his bulk he occasionally forgets his own strength and breaks things, which results in upset humans–which then results in an icy roar of magic flash-freezing the surrounding area as his anger consumes him. He doesn’t enjoy being yelled at. Nonetheless he is incredibly loyal with a quick wit and a dark sense of humor, and as long as he’s treated well he can be a lifelong friend.<br><br><strong>Background:</strong> At <em>“Friendship Level 0”</em> as Halgen tells it, he’s just a traveling minotaur looking to find work and increase his blacksmithing skills. He’s hoping to find someone worth following, someone strong and charismatic and ambitious, who will let him advance to the highest levels of “enchanting”. He will not, outright, call it Soulforging immediately upon meeting someone. He misses his tribe but there were more mouths than could be adequately fed, and so he left to find his own way. Such is the path of the ‘honorable’ minotaur. <br><br>At <em>“Friendship Level 1”</em>, Halgen will admit to being a member of the Algid Tribe. This may or may not coincide with admitting he’s a practitioner of Soulforging. As he tells it, the Algid Tribe was indeed largely slain when their Dark Design failed to manifest. Their ambitions foiled and their tribe in ruins, a handful of survivors escaped and lived out their lives in exile. Halgen is the first member since Drogthamon’s death to practice Soulforging, and he hopes to prove he’s worthy of the skill and restore his tribe’s name. <br><br>At <em>“Friendship Level 2”</em>, Halgen will admit that he’s not, truthfully, a member of the Algid Tribe. As far as he knows, they were all <em>actually</em> slain. He’s learning from a book written in the last years of Drogthamon’s reign, which has been hit or miss as he struggles with the language and the powers and capabilities within. He comes from a Winter tribe, and hopes to learn more of Soulforging to help his people and bring the minotaurs into a more modern era.<br><br>At <em>“Friendship Level 3”</em>, Halgen confesses he’s not actually a Winter tribe minotaur. He was born of Summer, but largely felt dissatisfied with the life. With several brothers, Halgen always felt that he was the weakest of his family, just a drain on their resources with little to offer. This was made obvious by their pitying glances when he was younger, and their resentment as he got older. Eventually he fled, nursing his own ambitions and desire to be strong. He found a mentor in Winter almost by accident, and he struggles to act as he feels he ‘should’ as a Winter minotaur. Of how he learned Soulforging, he says little. <br><br>At <em>“Friendship Level 4”</em>, Halgen will offer more of his story. Once he proved himself to his mentor he was gifted the book of ice that he now reads from religiously; unknown to his mentor, who could never figure out how to open the book, the tome was filled with the last words and techniques of the Algid Tribe. What was meant to be a symbol of acceptance into a new tribe became an entirely new path for Halgen to walk, one born of greater ambition than any minotaur since the original Algids. Practicing Soulforging and seeking to reawaken their Dream, he searches for a new Dark God to ply his trade for in hopes of showing everyone that he was stronger than they’d ever imagined. He stayed with his mentor until the old minotaur died, and on the man’s deathbed his soul became the first that Halgen claimed. It rests in an icy vessel at the top of his potion bandolier, the one soul he has yet to forge into anything else, and never will. It is his way of honoring the man and letting him walk the path with Halgen, showing him his faith was not misplaced.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br><strong>Skills:</strong> Drawing, sculpting, traditional and magical blacksmithing, and history. Magically speaking he is able to conjure and shape ice. This is something he is somewhat new at and it is attuned heavily to his moods, resulting in more than one frost-coated room. Though able to hold his own and tank a blow, outside of providing cover or perhaps crowd control his skills do not currently lie in combat. As far as Halgen is concerned, the only reason to be in battle is to continue his mastery of Soulforging and collect the souls of the fallen. Unfortunately, such things must be harvested while an individual is still alive. It is for this reason he has begun to grasp tactics and strategy, so as to move people into positions most favorable to him and his allies. While in combat he wields a large hammer coated with rime, and he can manifest frozen gauntlets with which to block–notably, though he <em>wields</em> a hammer it is not with any skill, but rather brute force. The process of drawing out a soul is largely based around the conjuration of ice, the creation of a vessel, and time to draw it from the still living body. He is <em>particularly</em> interested in more powerful souls, finding little interest in people or creatures he considers beneath his effort. Lacking other options, however, he will make do. <br><br><strong>Language(s):</strong> Aside from Common, he speaks Winter-Speech as the language of his ‘home’ tribes, a trade cant used among the myriad minotaur tribes when speaking with each other that has no official ‘name’, several runic alphabets, and, bizarrely, Summer-Speech, which isn’t a language he <em>should</em> know. Strange.&nbsp; <br><br><strong>Extras:</strong> See author O/Os for any considered in-story romantic scenes, or out-of-story sexual scenarios. Author is a gay male whom identifies as top-slash-dominant. In regards to the character's alignment, I would say it has more to do with who he ends up following than any regard towards good or evil. One man's Dark God is another man's Freedom Fighter. He is, however, quite loyal to those that treat him well, and willing to go out of his way to learn things and do his absolute best to keep from being a detriment.<br><br><div align="center">(https://i.imgur.com/0yHx0t8.jpeg)(https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/BQ2XBPHNQc6bXiDFRKKHNLat82DEcbvHgh6u7wcQmXjMOhFD18n9btePjYX5Xk0j6omVYqFnjIYLT4SxTCoN35RbCeXgD-9RYxokeQ=w1400-k)</div></div></div>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Big. Damn. Heroes. (OOC) (Open)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Envious</strong> on <strong>13-07-2022, 01:42:24</strong>
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				<div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Deluna Dolor</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/L9Rtnha.jpg)<br>(https://i.imgur.com/2fpNvbC.png)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Deluna Dolor<br><br><strong>Race</strong>: Cursed Human<br><br><strong>Class</strong>: Healer/Caster<br><br><strong>Age</strong>: 24<br><br><strong>Appearance</strong>: She has the shape of a human, but she certainly isn't colored like one! Her skin is not just white, it's practically iridescent in the correct light! This is due to the nacre her body is secreting. While a beautiful effect, the layers are starting to build up and form patch scales on some parts of her skin. Despite the growing defect, she proudly shows off her skin which is covered in tattoos; it's her way of celebrating each new experience she receives. Easily visible on her neck and shoulders are a serpent that coils from her left to right shoulder along her back, a branch of blossoms, a butterfly, a geode, and a flask filled with some gaseous material. She is pear shaped with some squish to her belly and thickness to her thighs. <br><br><strong>Personality</strong>: A compulsive liar and gambler, Deluna always seems to be getting herself into some sort of trouble. While her heart isn't made of gold, she's an avid supporter of helping those who need it when it's convenient and compensated. She is deeply embarrassed by her first 16 years of life where she was raised as a Cultist for the Buried Gods and has an aversion to discussing the topic. She's a believer, but she doesn't want anyone to know that.<br><br><strong>Background</strong>: She will outright share a brazen lie that <em>might</em> have some truth sprinkled in. People will comment that her previous iteration of the story <em>greatly</em> differs. She will laugh and agree with them.<br><br>What she's not sharing is that she was born and raised in Sekhar Ghol with a dearly devoted Gravekeeper as a father. It was a total downer; her childhood was spent learning to adhere to the Book so that she could follow in the footsteps of her father and become a highly respected priestess. Her life revolved around upping the body count for the Buried Gods and that was it. No friends. No fun. No freedom. She spent her youth watching her father enlighten all blasphemers he crossed paths with through whatever means necessary. Sometimes it was long lectures. Other times, it was the messy business of releasing people from their mortal coil. Her father said that sometimes, people needed to make their journey a spiritual one to meet the Gods and he was happy to unburden them from their meat sack to do so. It was a bleak path to walk, narrow in scope, and mighty in expectation. It was crushing the life out of Deluna so when she saw the opportunity to do so, she stole everything of value she could from home and escaped in the night at the age of 16 to find a new life. <br><br>Away from home, Deluna learned about the thrills of the wild world and that living in it was expensive. Luckily, part of her education involved healing. To her father, healing the sick was an easy way to catch a convert! To Deluna, it was a way for her to make coin, which she immediately learned to reinvest through gambling! While the majority of what she 'wins' at the tables is debt, there are two notable things to come from her gambling.<br><br>The first is her curse. She had every intention of exploring the Spice Isles, but spent a night in an inn rolling dice with an old man. When she couldn't repay what she owed in a timely manner (for he was shipping out in the morning), the salty sailor laid a curse on her with a promise to come back for his <em>pearl</em> later. <br><br>The second is her pet lizard called Wizard. The 5-inch tall creature is a bipedal lizard who spends most of his time hidden by Deluna's hair. He does not speak, but when it suits him, he does cast little parlor-trick spells. These spells seem to be purely for aesthetics. She still isn't sure if she <em>won</em> Wizard, or if he simply was ready for a new traveling companion. <br><br>She did learn from the curse and now she ensures that her skills can be wagered. There always seems to be a loved-one in need of a pick-me-up, a sordid 'businessperson' with cronies who need a medic, or an underground fight club who needs their ringers repaired. Those underground fight clubs are how she met the love of her life, a half-orc named Lashgob. She was a force to be reckoned with and her name made the lesser beings she was pitted against quake in fear of what she'd do to them! For Lashgob, it was easy money with a goal to get <em>out</em> of the ring and get the gear necessary to become a respected adventurer. Their whirlwind romance led to a very quick engagement and after Lashgob's last fight, they got married! Deluna still speaks very highly of her wife, but there seems to be a disconnect from reality. While their engagement was fast, their fall-out was even faster. They made a dynamic team - fighter and healer - but Deluna gambled the money as fast as they received it causing some major arguments. Although Deluna will deny it, they are no longer together and Lashgob has gone on to pursue her dream of being a famous and respected adventurer. <br><br>Deluna is currently telling people that she's waiting for her wife to return back <em>'from a quest of epic proportions'</em>. The details of the quest are different every time she shares it. She's doing odd-jobs here and there to pass the time. That is when she saw the sign: Wanted! Big damn heroes.<br><br><strong>Skills</strong>: <br><ul class="bbc_list"><li>Healing - An easy way to gain a convert is to heal the loved one of a desperate person. Deluna is skilled in both medicinal and magical methods of recovery </li><li>Herbalist - She often collects plants to make salves and tinctures to aide in non-magical methods of recovery</li><li>Lying - Her bedside manor is the stuff of legends; she can make a man feel like his dying breath will be the turning point to recovery</li><li>Connections - A healer for hire with low standards and a <em>small</em> gambling problem has put her in touch with many different types of people - most of them of dubious repute.</li><li>Well Traveled - She's been to many places and can tell you all of the basic tourist information. She's never been anywhere that requires a boat, though.</li><li>Utility Spells - <em>Skilled</em> isn't really the correct word. She can cast a number of base level non-healing spells that provide minor utility or convenience, such as repairing minor damage to clothing or heating water for tea. Combined with some bravado she can deter the average rabblerouser. </li></ul><br><strong>Language(s)</strong>: She fluently speaks common. She brokenly speaks Orcish. She can understand and speak a few key phrases in most languages, but nothing that would pass for conversation. She can request food, drink, lodging, help, identify herself as a healer, and curse colorfully.<br><br><strong>Extras</strong>: Potential plot hooks are below. I am highly interested in tweaking these to better align with other characters.<br><ul class="bbc_list"><li>Another player character, one who had been captured and was in the process of 'being saved' by cultists, was Deluna's ticket out of Sekhar Ghol.</li><li>Her dad, objectively a really good guy, misses his daughter. He lies and says that his daughter is spreading the good word out in the wider world to create more converts for the Buried Gods. In secret, he has a bounty on her to bring her back home so that he can set her back on the <em>correct</em> path of following in his footsteps in the family business of worship and conversion. </li><li>When coming across Cultists in the world, Deluna has an uncanny ability to get them off the back of the party! </li><li>She knows the seediest people! You need something that isn't readily available to the general populace? That is of questionable moral repute? That will cause short term bliss and long term pain? She doesn't deal directly, but she always seems to know a guy who knows a guy.</li><li>Encountering Lashgob in the world will be a humiliating and humbling experience.</li><li>She avoids the ocean to avoid the old sailor who cursed her, but she feels the call to the sea.</li><li>She <em>swears</em> she can understand what's being said and that everything is alright. Spoiler alert: she is mistaken.</li><li>Your character and my character know each other through some misadventure, gambling scene, or she previously healed for a party you were in.</li></ul></div></div>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Big. Damn. Heroes. (OOC) (Open)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Envious</strong> on <strong>14-07-2022, 00:41:24</strong>
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				Deluna has been accepted and I am open to plotting mischief.&nbsp; O:)
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Big. Damn. Heroes. (OOC) (Open)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>yaracyrrah</strong> on <strong>14-07-2022, 01:21:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Name: Priyantha Samatya-Dharmayu<br><br>Race: Human<br><br>Class: In D&amp;D terms, a monk.&nbsp; The Vijnayan term is better translated as "mystic".<br><br>Age: 26<br><br>Background: In Priya's homeland, Vijnaya, adults take as a surname the name of their chosen vocational Path.&nbsp; Samatya-Dharmayu is the path of Harmony Through Rightness.&nbsp; Followers of Samatya-Prasada, the more common branch of Samatya, aim to achieve harmony with the cosmos through equanimity, acceptance of what is.&nbsp; Followers of Samatya-Dharmayu, by contrast, aim to promote harmony in the cosmos by striving to harmonize unharmonious elements in themselves and, when feasible, in other people and the world.&nbsp; Priya, gifted or cursed with more curiosity about the outside world than most Vijnayans, chose to pursue her path beyond Vijnaya's borders.&nbsp; She variously describes herself as an explorer, a wanderer, and an adventurer.<br><br>Appearance: Priya is small: barely over five feet tall, with a lean, wiry build.&nbsp; Her skin is dark honey-almond, her eyes very dark brown, her hair black and straight and nearly waist-length, usually in a single tight braid.&nbsp; Her typical attire, customary for a Vijnayan mystic, consists of a simple shirt and trousers of plain brown fabric, with a belt of ordinary rope.&nbsp; She dons simple sandals when appropriate, but mystics prefer to go barefoot when possible, to be in contact with the earth.<br><br>Personality: Priya is almost annoyingly even-tempered, cheerful but not exuberant.&nbsp; She's polite and tries to be considerate, though cultural differences get in the way more often than she would wish.&nbsp; The diversity of the world outside Vijnaya is much greater than she imagined, and it's often unfortunately difficult to understand how such a wide range of perspectives might be brought into mutual harmony.<br><br>Skills: Vijnayan mystics train their bodies, minds, and most importantly their spirits, to give themselves as many means as possible of achieving their goals.&nbsp; They wield the energies of apana (the grounding force, associated with earth and water) and prana (the uplifting force, associated with the elements of air and fire) to accomplish feats that many non-Vijnayan cultures would describe as magical (but magic is a quite different energy) or "supernatural" (a concept that makes no sense to Vijnayans).<br><br>Priya has developed the skills she needs to survive alone in the wilderness, but she can rely on spiritual energy to satisfy most of her physical needs, so in harsher environments, she can't necessarily provide for others, only for herself.&nbsp; She has not been trained in any trade (in Vijnaya those are their own Paths), nor does she dabble in any other arts, preferring to focus on her own.<br><br>Language(s): Vijnayan, Common, and bits of the languages of any region she's been traveling through for a significant time.&nbsp; (She tries her best to learn at least a little.)
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Big. Damn. Heroes. (OOC) (Open)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AndyZ</strong> on <strong>14-07-2022, 22:24:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=343624.msg16233229#msg16233229">Quote from: Envious on 14-07-2022, 00:41:24</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">Deluna has been accepted and I am open to plotting mischief.&nbsp; O:)<br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>So, one random idea I had (if you like it) is that our characters never officially met, but were among a handful of adventurers who stepped up when whatever random town we were in at the time was overwhelmed with undead not long after dusk.&nbsp; Vylara would have focused on eliminating the enemy, probably even making sure Deluna was okay if she was an obvious healer patching people up, but then Vylara gave chase to the necromancer responsible while there were still a lot of injured and we never got to speak beyond a few words in the heat of battle, probably things like “Wounded over here!” and “Cover me!”<br><br>What do you think?
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Big. Damn. Heroes. (OOC) (Open)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AndyZ</strong> on <strong>19-07-2022, 03:21:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=343624.msg16237544#msg16237544">Quote from: Kadigan on 19-07-2022, 03:01:55</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">So....Soli's approved. <br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>Are you a Leverage fan, by any chance? ^_^<br><br>"She can act...when it's an act."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Big. Damn. Heroes. (OOC) (Open)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kadigan</strong> on <strong>19-07-2022, 03:26:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				That's actually who I based the character on. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Big. Damn. Heroes. (OOC) (Open)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Chreestafer</strong> on <strong>20-07-2022, 17:26:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				*bites nails in anticipation*<br><br>Anymore updates on acceptances&nbsp; 😀
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Big. Damn. Heroes. (OOC) (Open)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>John Birch</strong> on <strong>21-07-2022, 01:24:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Slowly but surely getting through them! At this point I've recovered pretty well from COVID and now the big roadblock is getting caught up on work. Ain't nothin' ever easy.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Big. Damn. Heroes. (OOC) (Open)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AndyZ</strong> on <strong>21-07-2022, 01:41:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				I have RL&gt;RP on my profile because real life takes precedence over roleplay.&nbsp; We can wait.&nbsp; Take care of yourself.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Big. Damn. Heroes. (OOC) (Open)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Brittlby</strong> on <strong>24-07-2022, 04:30:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(https://i.postimg.cc/BnvqVwCr/DF81-AF1-B-8531-4-E10-A55-D-B8784-DED7-A6-A.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Zeksi Hasah<br><br><strong>Race</strong>: Souillure (One of many dangers that roam the dunes of the rose desert, they are one of the few “domesticated” by the Pantazian empire. <br><br>Despite Zeksi’s mostly human appearance, her cold blood and forked tongue betrays something unnatural in her parentage. Some tend towards the other side of their heritage more than human. <br><br>Hailing from the Rose Desert originally, the bulk of their dwindling number are now located within Chatari. Their guild is utilized by the empire for their unique skills in divination as scouts, assassins and tax collectors.<br><br>Under the blistering desert sun centuries ago, their ancestors traded ragged bits of their own humanity for “gifts” from something very old and nameless that lurks beneath the dunes.)<br><br><strong>Class</strong>: Imperial Surveyor and Cartographer to the Rose Throne<br><br><strong>Age</strong>: 32<br><br><strong>Appearance</strong>: With an obsessive attention to detail brought on by decades in service to the Throne, Zeksi wears the deep crimson and black uniform of a Pantazian soldier. Her buckles gleam merrily and the crisp lines of her form hugging suit are freshly pressed. <br><br>The slender woman has the kind of casual and carefree beauty that can only be had after hours of preparation. Every strand of pale blonde hair is curated and placed with a meticulous deliberation.<br><br>Strapped to her back is a Chatari style longbow and quiver, the glossy lacquered wood of the bow marking it as either very well tended or rarely ever brought into service. Possibly both!<br><br>Of greater interest is a large tome bound in water proofed waxed leather. A heavy strap is affixed to the spine, and is always slung over Zeksi’s shoulder. She often seems more protective of it than her own well being…<br><br><strong>Personality</strong>: Zeksi is considerably more cordial than most of her kind, which in conjunction with her more human appearance is why she was encouraged towards espionage and negotiation by the guild to take advantage of her strengths. <br><br>Bright and charming, her heritage as a souillure does show through in that she has little patience for talking small or trivialities, conducting herself in a straightforward manner at all times. <br><br>It is well known that her race is unable to lie and though she has an unsettling capacity for violence when she deems the situation calls for it, she refuses to kill under ANY circumstances, despite her many years in the imperial military. This, of course, does not mean she will stand in the path of others who would…<br><br>Agreements are based on compromise and mutual benefits and she tries to be agreeable whenever possible. Regrettably, she is sometimes forced to over see disagreeable situations. Though she holds herself to an exacting standard and unwavering set of ethics, she is a pragmatist when dealing with the morality of other cultures. <br><br><strong>Background</strong>: <br><br>Educated and raised within the walls of the Souillure Guild, she did not set foot outside of the compound until they found a purpose for her at the age of 15. She spent her first years in the service of the Throne as a tax collector’s assistant, using her abilities to divine the coins desperately hidden beneath floorboards of the impoverished. More satisfying for her and lucrative for the Throne was when they were called to collect from the greedy merchants in the Chatari bazaars. <br><br>Eventually her distinguished service saw her promoted when her skills caught the eye of an Imperial commander. She served as an Pantazian scout and messenger for the better part of a decade, before being forced away from the frontline for insubordination. <br><br>The reputation of her cartography skills during her time as a scout landed her at her latest assignment has been as a surveyor and map maker for the empire. While this has been a boon for her insofar as allowing her the greatest freedom she had ever enjoyed, Zeksi often takes odd jobs in her travels given that her stipend is painfully small. Perhaps she also misses her days as the guiding light at the edge of the empire’s reach. <br><br>&nbsp;<br><strong>Skills</strong>: Zeksi is one of the greatest dowsers in the empire. She can locate anything or anyone she puts her mind to within a few miles, sensing the direction and distance with precision. Her scrying becomes less reliable the further away, though she claims to be able to sniff out the direction from dozens of miles away. <br><br>While she is not skilled in combat or melee fighting, the souillure has a supernatural advantage when utilizing a longbow, her dowsing abilities allowing her to feel the target even beyond her line of sight making her a dangerous marksman. Regrettably… she never seems to use this skill in actual battle, insisting that it isn’t her place to kill another. <br><br>Her more mundane skills lie in the area of espionage and bureaucracy, ranging from forgery, lock picking, mercantile trade and a fluency in most varieties of legalese. She also has a vast knowledge of world history and geography as well as limited authority amongst Pantazian military and nobles. <br><br>She is something of a polyglot due to her travels, speaking a handful of languages fluently and another handful that she knows a few key phrases like, “Where is the inn?” Or “How many coins is that?” Or “Please don’t bloody your knife in my back. Thank you kindly.”<br><br><strong>Language(s)</strong>: Common, Pantazian, Zawla' Yazani (with a strong accent),&nbsp; “Dirt Tongue” (a sort of Chatari cockney spoken between thieves and merchants.)<br><br><strong>Extras</strong>: Her uniform, in addition to identifying her as a marshal with the authority of the throne, is enchanted to keep her body temperature regulated in a variety of climates. Zeksi is not a fan of colder climates, her physiology better suited to desert settings. <br><br>Other oddities include a serpentine flexibility far beyond that of humans and a resistance to most venoms and poisons. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Big. Damn. Heroes. (OOC) (Open)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Hamlowe</strong> on <strong>27-07-2022, 19:16:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Name:</strong> Maksym the Swift<br><br><strong>Race:</strong> Hume<br><br><strong>Class:</strong> Fighter/Man-at-Arms<br><br><strong>Age</strong>: "The younger side of middle age" (early to mid 30s)<br><br><strong>Appearance:</strong> Tall, broad-shouldered, and well-muscled under the fat of age, Maksym certainly appears every bit the adept fighter he is, though one might be surprised that such an experienced fighter sports so few scars of battle. His dark hair is closely cropped for safety's sake and typically concealed under his helm anyhow. His armor consists principally of a brigandine with several pieces of supplementary plate, in addition to the open helm and bevor (the latter of which he wears rarely). (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/f7/a0/df/f7a0dfefc1f74375825a1f03f5c9847d.jpg)<br><br><strong>Personality</strong>: Maksym is a man of contradictions, a well-known braggart and hero who nevertheless tends towards nervousness in polite company. Though he may not always be comfortable, he is usually willing to lend an ear to those in distress, or to help those in need.<br><br><strong>Background:</strong> Maksym the Swift needs little introduction, formerly a distinguished knight serving in the Ordered Companies of Margraf Yan Zizak. Perhaps his most famous exploit was his most recent, surviving Zizak's bloody demise with both his life and, to a degree, his honor. Since then, he has become a wandering knight-errant, not quite a mercenary for lack of gainful military employment.<br><br><strong>Skills:</strong> Skilled with his pollaxe (https://collectionapi.metmuseum.org/api/collection/v1/iiif/26758/1425690/main-image) and sword (https://64.media.tumblr.com/73c5446f831796e2c152cae6bfd6682c/293dc7431bc9fc60-3e/s1280x1920/1d9a1b8a10a2d32a7c4e36a1ba4079fe5343c0c4.jpg) as befits a man-at-arms, though he has an idiosyncratic style that distinguishes him from other men at arms.<br><br><strong>Languages:</strong> He speaks both Common and Pantazian, but with a somewhat unplaceable accent. <br><br><strong>Extras:</strong> He is not all he appears to be.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Big. Damn. Heroes. (OOC) (Open)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>John Birch</strong> on <strong>27-07-2022, 21:32:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The IC opening post is up and ready to go! (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?board=340.0)
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Big. Damn. Heroes. (OOC) (Open)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Brittlby</strong> on <strong>05-08-2022, 02:33:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Another scaley PC? … we’re gonna need a duo nickname. <br><br>I’m leaning towards “Scales of Justice” or “Reptile Dysfunction”!
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Big. Damn. Heroes. (OOC) (Open)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>John Birch</strong> on <strong>09-08-2022, 08:28:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Name: Valstadt Averus. As is customary among orcs, Valstadt is his House name, and it’s the name he goes by when not among family.<br><br>Race: Farrene Orc.<br><br>Class: Wizard.<br><br>Age: Twenty five.<br><br>Appearance: Valstadt is tall, even for an orc, standing some six and a half feet tall, but he’s a beanpole from head to toe, with gangling arms and a trunk that almost reminds one of taffy stretched long and thin. His skin, as with many Farrene Orcs, is a dark bluish gray; if that doesn’t give his heritage away, then his tusks, filed down to small points peeking out from his lower lip in accordance with Farrene tradition, certainly will. He likes to wear his long black hair tied back into a low ponytail, and has lately taken to sporting a short, neatly-maintained beard. Although he does still have his robes from the Academy– he may have dropped out but that doesn’t mean he’s not still proud he got in to begin with– he generally prefers more sensible travel wear.<br><br>Personality: Valstadt is a born scholar– curious, disciplined, and eager to take on the complex problems that he sees facing the world around him. At the same time, he’s young and determined to prove himself worthy of some great destiny, though he’s not sure just what it is at this point, and there are times when even his practiced self-control cannot rein in that need to show his worth. One gets the sense that, despite his composure, he’s a constant work in progress– forever reassessing his understanding of himself and the world around him, never entirely at ease in his own skin, always looking to the horizon. He's polite, sometimes to an extent that seems absurd to those unacquainted with the intricacies of orcish courtesy, but has been striving since he began traveling to loosen up and be a little less formal, with mixed results.<br><br>Background: Valstadt Averus was born into royalty– or, well, what passed for royalty in the village of Red Moss Bog, population two thousand, where the Farrene House Valstadt has ruled ever since the fall of the old empire. As the first grandchild of the House’s Elder, the canny and ambitious Valstadt Marrat, young Averus was destined to one day take on the title of Elder himself, and he was raised in the appropriate manner– educated in the orcish classics, taught Imperial Orcish and the languages of the client races, and inculcated with an appreciation for the sciences and for the magical arts alike.<br><br>If Valstadt’s quintessential aristocratic orcish upbringing was typical, his higher education was anything but. The orcs of the Unconquered Marshes are, as a rule, an insular bunch; they regard the world around them with a kind of sullen resentment, aggrieved at the lack of respect their forebearers’ great works of scientific and magical discovery are accorded. Suffice it to say, they see little value in sending an orc beyond the borders of the Marshes to learn. Valstadt, on the other hand, grew up with the ambition– assiduously cultivated by his parents– of studying at the prestigious Academy at Moonlight River, where the world’s most renowned scholars of matters both magical and mundane lived, learned, and taught. His acceptance into the Academy at the age of twenty to study the arcane arts was regarded as the first step towards positioning Valstadt and his House to restore the orcs’ standing before the world as pioneers and pathfinders.<br><br>And Valstadt prospered at the Academy– for a time. Away from Red Moss Bog for the first time, from the House and his elders, Valstadt’s discipline and strong work ethic kept him in good academic standing even as he struggled to understand who he was without the grounding of his village and his family. Unfortunately for his parents’ ambitions, he eventually came to an understanding on who he certainly <em>wasn’t</em>: a graduate of the Academy at Moonlight River. Academia, for all Valstadt’s talent for it, was not for him. He wanted to <em>do </em>things. He wanted to go out into the world, not sit cloistered in the Academy’s great spiral towers and vast, velvet libraries. He wanted to use magic as a weapon against injustice and ignorance, not study it from the safety of a desk. And perhaps most importantly, he wanted to prove his worth– as a student of magic, as a scholar, and as the scion of House Valstadt– by taking life’s challenges head on, without the comforts of academy life.<br><br>So he dropped out. Armed with the magical education he’d received in two years at the Academy and the unenthusiastic approval of his parents (not to mention a healthy endowment of cash to ensure he wouldn’t starve within a week of leaving the Academy) Valstadt went out into the world in search of adventure. So far, it hasn’t gone very well. He’s seen more than he ever imagined of the world, met people from all walks of life, learned more than he ever would have at the Academy, but opportunities to use his skills in pursuit of justice and honor haven’t been commonplace. And, well, he’s starting to run out of money.<br><br>Skills: At the Academy, Valstadt majored in ‘scribery’-- that is, the art of collecting, altering, and even inventing spells. This has had two main effects in Valstadt’s adventuring: one, he can very quickly learn new spells and can memorize incantations with little practice; and two, his attempts to invent new spells generally pose a greater threat to his life than anything he’s liable to encounter while adventuring. For the most part, he defaults to his secondary field of study, which was evocation– you know, stuff like throwing fireballs and calling down bolts of lightning. He’s not the most impressive evocator around, but he’s got a solid grasp of most mid-level spells in the field, and has experimented with creating a couple of new ones (and he’s only set himself on fire once or twice in the process!).<br><br>On a less adventuresome note, Valstadt is a skilled researcher, able to quickly extract useful information from a text, analyze it, and turn it into something actionable. He’s a fine academic writer. He also enjoys writing the occasional poem, as befits a proper orcish aristocrat, and would be utterly mortified if anyone found out.<br><br>Language(s): As a scion of a noble family, Valstadt’s childhood was steeped in languages– not just Common and his native Farrene Orcish, but also Imperial Orcish, the classical and literary language of the old empire, as well as the major languages of its client races: Marsh Koboldic, Tiefling, and Southern Goblin. In his travels, he’s picked up bits and pieces of Pantazian, although he prefers Common when he can help it, and Elvish.
			</dd>
		</dl>
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