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Post by joatmoniac on Aug 20, 2016 8:47:19 GMT
Can't help but think of this! So for this one I thought it would be an interesting exercise to find images of characters/classes that are progressing through the leveling experience. If that doesn't make sense hopefully the pictures below will help to clarify. Also, it was much harder to find pictures like this than I would have thought. So go ahead and grab a picture and explain the in between spaces, what happened to that character to get them from stage A to stage B. I have high hopes that this makes sense, and is fun! 1.  2.  3.  4.  5.  6.  7.  I'm fairly certain that the last one is actually just drawings of dm_mainprize |
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Post by blakeryan on Aug 20, 2016 12:17:27 GMT
6 - Markoth the Warlock-Great Old One (6 pics)
1st - Found ancient tomes in Lusina Tirion library, communed with ancient one to gain arcane powarz.
3rd - Gained a dagger of venom and serpent staff while exploring ancient Yuan-ti ruins beneath the woods.
7th - Sacrificing his apprentice allowed him to gain insight to the location of further more powerful ancient secrets. He was blessed with insectile left leg and 2nd heart.
11th - After several trips to the Feywild, Markoth gathered many cult followers-some of them Yuan-ti, removing his own eye to show the glory of this ancient elder ones path!
15th - Markoth his cult worked their mischief in two cities and three towns. On the flip side a Paladin order and Dwarven clan were hunting him.
20th - Thought his cult had been routed out, Markoth and his remaining four followers travel between the planes, attacking religious leaders and seeking out artifacts for bizarre rituals.
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Post by grimmhelm on Aug 20, 2016 19:06:12 GMT
1) Selena Kanwell comes from the small islands to the west of Dayeimbe, She learned how to hunt from her farther -tracking, hiding, setting traps and handling a crossbow. These skills proved useful when bandits attacked her small island village, fortunately most of the residence were able to flee into the woods surrounding the small port town but her sister was missing and her farther lay dead upon the floor of there home. She took up his old crossbow -for he had been an adventurer in his youth and set out after the bandits... 2) Three years later 15 of the 20 bandits were slain...tracked and killed in traps and bolts in the back or chest, she has become known as a Bounty Hunter of some skill, bringing in contracts that most would flee from, each job supplying coin and equipment on her grand hunt. She found her sister, sold to a wealthy noble who cared little for the law or values of others...he went missing in the woods behind his estate one day and his manor burned down a week later with a small troupe of young woman fleeing the flames into the local town to tell tales of his cruelty, there is now an arrest warrant for his head in most kingdoms. 3) A year later and there is only the bandits leader left - Her reputation as a fearsome hunter has grown some in the time between tracking down her sister and slaying the last few bandits the leader a fearsome orc warrior is in hiding he knows she is being hunted and is now using the coin from her jobs to try and slay her -a powerful benefactor who gave him the jobs apparently missing as Selena stalks the poor orc's door. 4) It has been five months since she brought the head of the Orc Warrior to the bounty board and learned of her dark master, armed with parts of the armour of the slain orc and charged with renewed vigour she takes on even more dangerous jobs to send a message to the one Selena knows is watching -she is powerful, she is angry, she is coming...She will rent her services out to powerful adventuring parties if she believes it will lead her closer to the one who ordered her village pillaged...for a modest sum of course. |
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Post by frohtastic on Aug 23, 2016 1:41:54 GMT
1) To the great joy of my family I have been accepted to the Academy, I hope to be able to use these gifts to make life better for my family. Sadly it seems that ignorance is not a trait found only in peasant-people, one would think that the children of great lines of mage's would have more respect for magic and seek out the knowledge of how to wield the god-given gifts to their outmost but it seems they are little more than bullies and pranksters using magic to make life hard for those they consider beneath them, those who cannot trace their magical lineage. The amount of times they ruined my scrolls out of pettiness really astounds, is it my fault I commit every free time I have to fine-tune the spells shown by the professors while they laze around frolicking in the lakes and try to look up the skirts of the acolytes? 2) Years have past and the ignorant have turned into angered ignorant imps, I can hear them whispering behind my back, calling me unnatural and spawn of demons, had they spent any time reading "The theory of magic: Lineages and from whence it came" they would see that we are all spawns of the abyss, even some of the professors seem to have bought into this, no doubt paid handsomely by the guilds to make certain that a no lineaged whelp doesnt graduate with a good standing. No matter, we are going on a excursion to some ruins rumoured to be the old city Hafverthal, a city of mages, I am thankful that the group I am assigned to has those who I would hesitate to call friends, and its rumoured that this excursion may even qualify as a graduation. 3) Those lineaged fools! It had started off well as we were split off into different groups to broaden the search, hell even Serrah an Elven student the year below had proclaimed her fatuation with me (We stole kisses in the night..). But it all went to ****s when they decided to venture down the rickety tunnels, although they cannot be blamed for that as the pull of magic in that direction was too strong to resist, of course the ruins werent completely abandoned what with the natural pull of the area but that should not have been an issue for mage's such as us. Oh but using fireballs and explosive magics (no doubt to impress the teachers) caused the already rickety tunnels to collapse, squishing some with a sickening quelch, truly we were lucky that the ground gave way and we slid to a ante-chamber. Only I, Serrah and Rickton (the biggest twit ever) survived the fall though Serrah had sustained an injury to the leg, we probably would have paid more attention to the injuries if we werent entranced by the ante-chamber. The room was bathed in the ethereal glow of flames coming from the staff of a statue of a wizened spellcaster, and at the base of the statue there was a staff forced into the ground, the magic in the room was so tangible it made me gag and my eyes water. I'm not sure if there was a compulsion on the staff or just foolishness on his part but Rickton grasped it and tugged it out of the ground and it changed him, he became immediatly manic and fell upon us in an instant, we had no other choice but to kill him. 4) The staff sustains me and teaches me, Rickton had nearly killed Serrah but only through the teachings of the staff made her survive. It told me how to trade my heart for hers, a damaged vessel matters not when the burning fire of magic flows through me, fearing for her being targeted I put her in the location I hold dear, my very hometown. But in spite of this it burns me to get close to her, the staff is all I have now, all I need, But it soothes me to have a piece of her with me always, perhaps some day I will be able to overcome this and finally be togheter with her again. |
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Post by frohtastic on Aug 23, 2016 1:45:07 GMT
TL;DR : farm-hamlet boy with Magic goes to school, meets bullies, meets love, kills bully possessed by magical staff, Give Heart to save love, puts love for safekeeping with family while he lives on through power of the staff, wanders the world as a type of lich-thing. |
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Post by zenith on Aug 28, 2016 5:08:17 GMT
Novic Nimbleheart, Halfling
----------------- Prologue -----------------
When Novic was a small boy, begging for scraps in the streets of the capitol city, all he wanted was a place he could belong. Unfortunately for him, halflings are both uncommon and generally mistrusted in this nation. And, as in most large cities, the population of the city often chooses to ignore that beggars even exist, walking past without so much as a nod. Novic had two strikes against him before he even woke up in the morning.
While most children of his age, race, and situation turned to thievery, taking what they could get from those who had more than them, Novic did not. It wasn't that he had moral qualms about stealing, he just had no knack for it at all. He didn't have a single ounce of skulduggery in him. His bedtime lullaby was the song of his empty belly.
What little joy young Novic felt sprang from the excitement he got from his evenings spent watching the Queen's knights sparring in the yard. He would watch in wonder as the royal defenders darted around the circle, mail gleaming, striking and parrying with blinding speed. Though he would never admin such an absurd wish to anyone, Novic hoped to one day emerge from that circle victorious. He would some day save the Queen, perhaps, thwart some terrible plot to assassinate her. They would have a parade in his honor. He would ride a mighty stallion through the streets of the capitol, his plate armor shining bright in the noonday sun. The ladies would hang laurels of wildflowers around his neck. Novic Nimbleheard would be a hero.
Novic was no fool, though. He knew that this was all only the wildest sort of fantasy. He was only a beggar, a halfbeggar at that. Even still, he watched the knights spar. He memorized every movement, every position. On the nights where the hunger robbed him of sleep, he would go the park and swing sticks around, miming the forms he watched every day.
One evening, as he was on his way back to the pile of lice-ridden rags he called home, stomach empty as usual, he came across a human boy maybe a year or two older than he backing into the alley down which Novic walked. After a moment of confusion, the halfling youth realized that he'd stumbled upon a mugging. Three large, dangerous-looking fellows were sauntering toward the nicely dressed human boy, waving daggers and grinning with malice. "C'mere, young sir," one of them said, his tone patronizing. "We ain't gonna 'urt you." His breath whistled slightly through a gap where he was missing a tooth. "We just have a bet between us. See, I told 'ol Shem here I figure you got a gold coin or two on you. 'e reckons silver."
Novic ducked behind a large pile of broken crates, hands shaking. The boy continued to back slowly down the narrow gap between the buildings. He passed the halfling's pile of crates, a hunted look on his face. And then the boy saw Novic, his eyes pleading. Something took root inside the boy. His fear began to dull, and an unexpected resolve steadied his hands. Glancing around, Novic found a long bit of broken wood which had once been a chair leg in better days. He balanced it in his hand and swung it slowly, getting a feel for its weight. In a moment which he would later reflect on with abject horror at his brashness, he drew himself up and stepped out from his hiding place. "Leave him alone!" he yelled, his high-pitched screech echoing in the tight space. He brandished his makeshift 'blade' before him.
The thugs laughed, of course. Three big, strong men with knives being scolded by this tiny thing with a stick must have been a funny sight indeed. Novic shifted his stance, bringing one foot back behind him the way he'd seen the knights stand before a bout. Gaptooth strode forward, a mocking smile on his face. "Better step aside, halfboy. Wouldn't want to ruin them nice rags yer wearin'." His mates laughed. The front thug cut the air in front of Novic lazily. Novic's club darted out, slamming into Gaptooth's wrist. With a curse, the man dropped his dagger and drew his hand back.
"You'll regret that, gutter trash!" Gaptooth growled, drawing a spare dagger from his belt. The men circled Novic in the alley, stabbing and slicing at him. The knights' swordwork flowed from him, though. His stick seemed to move of its own will, easily turning the crude attacks aside. The boy flowed from form to form, stance to stance. The circle widened. He jabbed and slapped the thugs with his chair leg. One man sat down, hands holding a broken nose. Another's fingers tried to close numbly around his dropped blade, but the broken bones in his hands made him cry out in pain. Gaptooth, laying on the ground after taking a particularly bad whack to the back of his knee, managed to catch Novic unawares, grabbing his ankle. With a murderous rage in his eyes, he drew the halfing boy closer, pulling back the dagger in his hand to strike. Without thinking, Novic thrust his stick at the man's throat. His strike was true, the splintered wood pushing through. Gurgling, eyes bulging, the man went still. Squealing, the other two backed away limping, terror in their eyes.
Novic stared in horror at the lifeless form before him. The stick dropped from his hand and he collapsed, darkness clouding his vision as he fainted.
He awoke to find himself in a soft bed. Glancing around, he saw that the room in which he lay was finely decorated. A silver candlestick holder sat on the table beside the bed, its wax candle shedding a warm light. With a start, he noticed that he was not alone. In the corner of the room, he saw a large chair carved from some sort of dark wood. Someone sat sleeping there, his chin on his chest. He recognized the man. Novic squeaked, then quickly covered his mouth, but the damage was already done.
The man awoke, slowly looking at Novic, his piercing blue eyes seeming to measure the boy. The Captain General of The Queen's Guard smiled broadly at Novic. "Thank you for helping my son, my small friend. It seems I owe you a debt."
----------------- 1 -----------------
Novic walked toward the circle, palms sweating against the grip of his blunted training blade. His master, a knight in the lower echelon of the Queen's Guard, grasped him on the shoulder. "Remember your training, boy. He's got a bit more reach than you, but you're faster. Let him tire himself out."
The halfling's stomach churned, his nerves taut. Six years as a squire, and my last shot at passing the test, he thought, gritting his teeth. He stepped into the circle. Opposite him stood a tall boy with broad shoulders, muscles corded along his arms. He held himself with an easy confidence, a derisive smile on his face.
"I hope you've got a plan for what happens after I send you packing, half man," he said, as he turned his head and spat. "I've beaten you twice now. What makes you think this will be third time lucky?"
"We'll see, Garin" replied Novic through gritted teeth. He set his feet and raised his shield for the charge he knew would follow. He was not disappointed. The squire sprang forward, shield readied for a shove. Novic sidestepped the clumsy attack easily, lashing out with a slash at the other boy's calf. Garin was not so easily beaten, though, and spun to parry. There was a rapid exchange of blows, parries, and counterattacks. Blunted steel rang in the courtyard, accompanied by the sounds of boots scrabbling in the gravel of the circle. Sweat poured down the taller boy's face, frustration burning in his eyes. The gathered knights and squires cheered Novic on. He'd made many friends during his years as a squire, but many enemies as well. Garin was among them.
"Have to do better than that, Garin," chided Novic, as he turned another blow aside with his shield. His opponent roared in anger and rushed him. Novic stepped sideways in an attempt to avoid the attack, but lost his footing in the shifting gravel. Garin's shield caught the halfling under the chin and lifted him through the air, throwing him completely from the circle. Novic landed, senseless, on the hard ground. The bystanders were silent.
Novic pulled himself to his feet, shoulders slumped. The Captain General walked toward him slowly. "Oh, my boy," he said, sadness in his voice. "You've been a friend to my family since that day in the alleys. You've been a second son to me. Custom dictates I say this, though it kills my heart to do so." His face became a blank mask, his voice taking on the familiar tone of command. "The Queen's Guard must be the shield when danger threatens; The fortress when the enemy lays siege. Novic Nimbleheart, thrice you have been tested, and thrice found lacking. With a heavy heart, we dismiss you." With a tear in his eye, he added, "I'm so sorry, Novic."
The stunned crowd began to disperse, but the halfling stood in the courtyard, numb. Sir Allon, his patron, crossed to him. "Well, I suppose this is goodbye, Nimbleheart. You've been a fine squire and would have been a fine knight in Her Majesty's service." Novic unstrapped his shield and let it drop. He brushed his chin where Garin's shield had hit him with the back of his hand, wincing as his glove touched the gash there.
"I've failed, sir," he said, tears streaming down his face. "I've failed to achieve the only thing I've ever wanted. What am I to do now?"
"To that," the knight said with a warm smile, "I've an idea. Sir Gadrey?" Allon motioned to a short man leaning against the wall of the courtyard. He wore a blackened chainmail byrnie under a tabard showing a gray triangle on a white field.
Novic's mouth fell open. This was one of the Grey Shields, the palidin order of Dagnir. Arms crossed, Sir Gadrey approached. His eyes were calculating, seeming to take Novic's measure. "That was fine fighting, lad," he said.
The halfling frowned. "That is an honor coming from a warrior such as you. But I lost. What's fine about that?"
"You faced a man three twice your height with thrice your weight and never flinched. You stood your ground when a lesser man would have fled. Your skill at arms is impressive for one so young, and so small, as you." He shot a kind-hearted mocking smile at Sir Allon. "Unfortunately for you, your training has not prepared you to fight someone who is physically superior to you. I'd bet a month's pay that you'd beat someone your own size every time." He reached out a hand and gently touched Novic's chin. A warm glow surrounded the paladin, and the pain from his wound vanished.
"You're in luck, my boy," Gadrey said, smiling warmly. "I'm in need of a squire. He Who Guards the Gate has chosen you to join us."
-- This is only the first bit of what I hope will be a much longer post. I've strayed a bit from the original prompt. Especially considering that I haven't even made it to the first image in the set yet. Do let me know what you think of it so far though. 
-- Edit 1 - added the next part, covering the first panel of the image. Regarding the Palidin order mentiond, here is the deity reference.
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grinningdwarf
Commoner
Posts: 20 
Favorite D&D Class: Fighter
Favorite D&D Race: Dwarf
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Post by grinningdwarf on Aug 28, 2016 6:17:05 GMT
zenith, nice start! Be sure to let us know how Novic turns out.
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Post by zenith on Aug 29, 2016 15:49:18 GMT
Added a second part to the tale of Novic Nimbleheart. I hope you have as much fun reading it as I'm having writing it.  |
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Post by frohtastic on Sept 4, 2016 15:34:01 GMT
TL;DR : farm-hamlet boy with Magic goes to school, meets bullies, meets love, kills bully possessed by magical staff, Give Heart to save love, puts love for safekeeping with family while he lives on through power of the staff, wanders the world as a type of lich-thing. Oh. And player quest specific to this: What happened in the ruins is unknown but the reports say that the farm-boy snapped and killed the other students, before taking their energies and making a necromantic pact with the god(des) of Death. So the players are to be set out to either discover what really happened or take the words of the "quest giver" and set out to kill him. So yay, gray area quests! |
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Post by catcharlie on Feb 20, 2017 0:11:48 GMT
Last night my father fell in battle. Tonight his axes and battle hide were passed down to me as we release his soul from this mortal world, the flames of his body will send him to feast with our gods. Tomorrow I wear his battle hide as I head out into war to slaughter our foes as the leader of our tribe. I have trained my whole life for this moment, my father has always been proud of me, tomorrow I will give him reason to boast my name to the gods. Our fight has changed, and so has my battle hide, no more does the skins of animals provide the protection we need. Iron plates adorn by limbs, testing my muscles and bringing weight on my axe as I cleave those in my way. I have expanded our lands so that we can continue to grow as a tribe, it was met with force from our neighbor, but we swiftly defeated them, they have now joined us, willingly or as slaves. The tribe now needs more land to grow crops, I will see in which direction we will expand tomorrow. My father's Axes have finally broken, I now wield a weapon of my own, it is larger and heavier, it is befitting as I have far surpassed him, I shall sit closer to our gods than he does when I die. This world is weak, no one can challenge my might. My army grows larger by the day, but still they are no match for my strength. No-one is fit to wear my armour, I doubt anyone could lift it bar me. It takes three men to carry my axe, let alone swing it, no wonder it was so easy to conquer this land. The skull of what was the greatest beast in the land, now adorns my head, it was hardly a challenge for someone as mighty as myself. I rule all that I can see of this land, no man, woman, or child will argue with my demands. Which is probably why I grow tired of this. Tomorrow I shall ride out for new lands to make my own, maybe I shall find a god to defeat, yes, a god might provide a fun battle. |
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