Character sheets and backstories

 
Character sheets and backstories

Post them here. Backstories have no bearing on who I pick for the game in this case, obviously, but they can give some insight regarding the character, which is always nice. Character creation stuff should go in the OOC thread. A few things that may help.


Firstly, a link to the ruleset.

Other guidelines for character creation:

First off, the Sanity stat will have a similar use to, say, will saves in D&D. If someone is trying to mess with your head by means of magic, make a Sanity roll to resist.

Wealth is a non-issue because, as a shaman, you can probably temporarily commandeer most things you might need.

You will also need stats for your avatar form. I believe I've gone over statting this normally (I.E. compared to other things on a similar power level) rather than the "d4s for eeeeeverything" approach. May also want to elaborate on how you fight if it's not immediately apparent. Also, remember to write up the general appearance, size and so forth for your avatar form.

You do not need to write down every spell you have or whatever. You will, however, need a general aptitude for magic (this will rarely come up) and also a specific aptitude for each type of magic you use. Bear in mind that none of these are likely to be terribly impressive, as spirits don't give a huge amount of magical power or anything.


EDIT: We are using the Magic and Sanity stats, of the optional ones, but not Wealth, and Luck only if people want it in the game.

Priestess Lucretia
An ordained brat and spirit communicator in her late teens

As the sole daughter of a traditional and well-established family in the priestly caste, Lucia's future was more or less charted out for her. It would mean that she has to spend years to study the proper rites to please and worship the hallowed spirits, followed by a lifetime of practicing them out. The training was difficult, and mistakes were not too lightly tolerated - communicating with the spirits is an important matter, after all. However, if anything, Lucia only grew to revel in the status she was born into. She is destined to serve as the bridge between the ordinary people and the incomprehensible spirits, or so she came to believe, since everything in her life has done nothing aside from supporting that notion.

And so, her days were spent in enthusiastic fervor, which has the unfortunate consequence of alienating those around her. While she values the mundane folk as those she has to serve and lead, she tends to regard them with little respect, since they don't know - and don't need to know - anything about the responsibility that she has to bear. The other initiates are esteemed colleagues who understand what she has to go through, but they are either inferiors who need to catch up with her or rivals that she needs to surpass. The priests need to do their best so that the people can prosper, after all!

She intensely studied the priestly arts for years, along with other kinds of knowledge that caught her fancy. It didn't take too much time before she was deemed worthy to join the ranks of priesthood, although Lucia could hardly wait any longer.

But then, something unexpected happened. Right at the end of the ordainment ceremony, the spirit of light manifested itself before the entire body of priests and expressed its wish for Lucia to be its host. There was little room for interpretation in that request, even though the spirit refused to reveal any rhyme or reason behind it. It would be insane to refuse such a direct request from a spirit, so the only action left for the new priest was to come up with a rationalization of this sudden development. If she is to adopt the double rule of priest and shaman, perhaps it is her fate to be able to speak directly through the rites. Perhaps her role is greater than she initially thought. Is it to bring the people and the spirits closer than ever before, or is it for some other noble purpose?

She didn't know, but she knew one thing for sure: she was the chosen one.

Thus, she eagerly accepted the proposition, her sense of purpose and responsibility burning even brighter than before. If she seems to be further detached from the rest of the world, it's just a side effect of no consequence - probably...

Lucia has:
  • Below average physical strength. (D20)
  • Above average agility. (D10)
  • Average health. (D12)
  • High knowledge of the world. (D8)
  • Very good perceptive powers. (D6)
  • Remarkable sanity. (D6)
  • Exceptional magic. (D8)

Lucia is:
  • A zealous, newly appointed priest. (D4)
  • An amateur in martial arts. (D20)
  • Strong-willed and stubborn. (D8)
  • Highly skilled in first aid. (D8)
  • Studious and well-read. (D8)
  • Quietly knowledgeable in physics. (D6)
  • Unbelievably good at housekeeping. (D4)
  • Good at singing. (D10)

Lucia is able to:
  • Create or manipulate light. (D8)

Eos
Light

As the spirit of light, Eos is much like a lamp in a room or the sun in the sky: relatively small, although her radiance can easily be felt. Lucia's influence gives the pure, shapeless light a more tangible form in her physical manifestation, but instead of adopting a conspicuous, delicate guise such as that of a high priestess or a member of the nobility, their joint form appears more like an anonymous soldier; with her entire figure clad in armor, from head to toe, it's as if she's the embodiment of a simple desire to fight and to protect.

That being said, it's not as if Eos' avatar lacks presence. The plates encasing her are light themselves, and they never cease to gleam regardless of the darkness around her. Those who can glimpse the figure underneath all those protective wear, however, will somehow see that she's even brighter inside instead of being shadowed by her armor. What would certainly establish her as something supernatural, though, is her wings - streams of light flowing from her back, unfolding to their full span as she launches herself to the sky... It's an impressive sight, to say the least.

Eos has:
  • The propensity for shimmering display of strength. (D10)
  • Bedazzling agility. (D6)
  • Glowing health. (D12)
  • An enlightened knowledge of the world. (D8)
  • Brilliant perceptive powers. (D8)
  • Sparkling magic. (D8)

Eos can:
  • Fly. (D8)
  • Create or manipulate light. (D6)

Malcharion

A Sword Wrought For War, But Chooses To Be The Ploughshare

Those who would behold Malcharion would first see him for what he is, his singular purpose for existing undeniable. And they cannot be blamed, as he has been forged from fire, brimstone and steel to be a giant walking battletank. Nine feet tall and just as wide, the walking suit of coal-black plates of thick impenetrable steel and stone presents an intimidating, if cowing presence to anyone unfortunate to behold it or be in its path. The crimson fire blinking from the eye slits of its terrible, tusked elephantine helm only serving to further its image of a monster from one's nightmares, inexorable, tireless, and invincible.

But despite his appearance - and true enough, from the scratches and dents on his otherwise pristine form of murder-make, Malcharion has functioned more as the ploughshare rather than the sword. Having served in two wars after his forging and activation by the Spirit of the Forge, Vulcan, the golem had, without fail, completely ignored the orders of his commanders - and instead went off on his own to help those caught in the crossfire of the wars. He had used himself to block the hail of arrows about to fall upon a retreating crowd; held up a collapsing, burning temple as its worshippers cowered underneath him, trying to seek refuge in the last bastion of safety in their city; rebuilt a bridge in the middle of a furious firefight, ignoring that both sides had begun to fire upon him out of sheer panic and fear.

Yes. For his intended purpose, Malcharion is useless. He has not hurt a single soul ever since his construction; no blood had actually been spilt on his armor or on the massive hammer slung upon his back. No flesh has been torn asunder by his mailed fists, no bodies pierced by the tusks on his helm. For his fearsome appearance, Malcharion has never taken a life, and it is doubtful that he ever will.

Some would lay doubt on that claim, however, due to the six skulls, bleached white from sunlight and time, impaled upon the rack of spikes upon his shoulders. Surely, they signify six lives taken by the beast, and had taken them as gruesome trophies. But for some reason, every time it stops as if to rest, bystanders would watch as Malcharion would silently ask for a pail of water and carefully, reverently wash each skull - reverently cradling it in hands much more suited to killing. As if paying each one tribute, taking care to wash the dust and dirt from every one.

The giant had also shown a fierce protectiveness of the skulls. But for what reason...?

Malcharion has:
  • Godlike strength. (D4)
  • A slow, ponderous gait. (D20)
  • Invincibility. (D4)
  • Little knowledge about the world and many of its customs. (D20)
  • Sharp reflexes. (D8)
  • An unshakeable sanity. (D6)
  • Poor Magic. (D20)

Malcharion is:
  • Not a very good communicator. (D20)
  • Not beholden to food or drink; he does however require an hour, every day, to shut down. (D6)
  • An immovable object. (D8)
  • Unable to dodge anything sent his way. (D20)
  • Intimidating. (D6)
  • A pacifist. (D6)
  • A blacksmith and carpenter without peer. (D8)
  • A steadfast follower. (D6)
  • A horrible empath. (D30)
  • Scary. (D6)

Malcharion is able to:
  • Punch or hit things really hard. (D4)
  • Be very scary. (D6)
  • Build or forge weapons or dwellings/fortifications.

Vulkan

As the Spirit of the Forge, Vulkan reeks of ash and heat, and manifests as an ever-burning spirit wreathed in flame. Vulkan is not just a spirit of fire, however, as her aspect is the innovation and creation that takes place in the heat and fire of a forge - proselytizing how the flame can also create, not just destroy. She also exemplifies steadfastness and tenacity - those who seek to serve must withstand the white-hot heat of the forge, the hammer impacts upon the anvil, or else break for their folly.

In personality, Vulkan is somewhat of a perfectionist, a fussy artist that loathes imperfection. But yet, her idea of perfection does not match the usual meaning of the word - for having created Malcharion, she has yet to repair the dents and scratches upon his once-pristine armor, taking such battle-damage as honor markings and brands, a testament to the true perfection of her masterpiece. Although, she thinks the skulls may be a bit much...

In avataric splendor, Vulkan manifests through Malcharion as a brightly-burning inferno raging inside and outside the golem, creating the appearance of a towering behemoth fire-born from the depths of hell. Everything burns in its wrath, and even the armor itself, while finely-made, will grow white-hot and be left black with soot after the possession. However, those who have seen this happen and survived to tell the tale noted that the skulls seemed protected, somehow, not even bearing a smudge of soot after such a harrowing vision.

Vulkan has:
  • Quite strong. (D6)
  • A less than remarkable speed. (D20)
  • The health of an ox. On fire. (D8)
  • A rudimentary knowledge about the rest of the world. (D12)
  • An average perception. (D12)
  • Two magic hands; they are called Hurt and Burn. (D8)

Vulkan can:
  • Fly. (D10)
  • Forge or repair weapons. (D10)
  • BURN. (D6)

Cmdr. Vivian Callahan
Beloved Hero and Living Martyr

There is a story, spoken once in hushed whispers and now proudly told by many a spoony bard, of a woman who would wander from battlefield to battlefield leaving nothing but the corpses of the wicked in her wake, an angel of victory that could turn even the most desperate defeat into a crushing victory. Provided, of course, she was on your side.

This story was greatly exaggerated, and on the rare occasion that it would catch up with Vivian, would cause her near-limitless headache. Though she very rarely claimed credit for these grossly-exaggerated stories, whenever she WAS fingered as some phenomenal heroine, inevitably she was asked where she was when the battle some poor child’s big brother died in occurred, or why she couldn’t save someone’s husband.

These were questions that she would end up asking herself again and again in moments of quiet, even before…well.

There is another story, however, one you won’t hear nearly so often despite its grandeur, one you will hear only from the men who were there, or the occasional quiet storyteller who knows a legend from a folktale. This story tells of a commander whose army was routed in an important battle. Recognizing her as a hero of her people, mockingly, the victors offered her a trade – in exchange for her head, her men would go free. She accepted at once.

Her execution was a spectacle. In any war, an awe-inspiring hero to one side is a terrible monster to another, and so the people gathered ‘round to jeer her, to celebrate her demise. She was pelted with stones and rotten food as she stood at the gallows, though her calm smile did not falter. She knew what she was to these people, and to them, this was the best she deserved. It wasn’t a sentiment she was entirely sure she disagreed with, some days.

Even as the platform gave way from under her, her serene smile was burned into the minds of the people present, her last words ever-echoing in their memories:

“You’d best kill me quickly, men. I’m sure your supper’s getting cold.”

An hour later, the city was under siege. Her death had been a rallying point, a crime, a travesty that the men she had led over her career could not stand by and accept. They fought like beasts, outnumbered ten to one in the enemy’s own heartland, and still, by the end of the day they held the city.

According to some, one young man cut the commander down from the gallows only to find her wresting herself from his arms, demanding a sword with which to aid her countrymen. Only Vivian herself knows if that much is true; that young man died in the siege. But the fact remains – at the end of that day, she had taken command and they had taken the city.

Death had always been a steadfast companion of hers, as it is for every successful soldier. As such, when she met Madrich on the very edge of oblivion, she wasn’t entirely surprised, though she wasn’t at all prepared for what happened next. He offered her a deal, and again without hesitation, she accepted; even if it weren’t far too early to die, when a Spirit offered you something, it was no suggestion – you took it.

This time…she wasn’t entirely sure what she was giving up. Certainly her life wasn’t worth much now. But it was better, she decided quickly, not to question it, lest it be interpreted as a distinct lack of gratitude. In return for whatever it was – a Spirit’s amusement, perhaps – Vivian received the two things she needed desperately: the time to save more lives, and the power to end the petty, angry squabbles between city-states, the wars between what ought to have been countrymen united under one flag for the good of all people. Or at least, that’s what she hoped.

Despite those gifts, however, her neck remains ever-marred by that rope, and every day her stiff body complains to her a little more as she forces it along…

Vivian has:
  • Unusual physical strength. (D8)
  • Rusted agility (D12) with unfortunate reflexes. (D20)
  • Unnatural resilience (D6), but unreliable stamina. (D20)
  • Rather worldly knowledge. (D10)
  • Dulled perception. (D12)
  • Sanity worn thin by trauma (D20).
  • Very little magic to spare. (D20)

Vivian is:
  • Calm nearly to a fault. (D8)
  • A skilled and practiced swordsman. (D8)
  • Competent with other weaponry. (D12)
  • Uncomfortable with bows. (D20)
  • A knowledgeable enough survivalist. (D20)
  • A passable cook. (D20)
  • Accustomed to giving speeches. (D8)
  • Experienced with leading men. (D10)
  • An accomplished tactician. (D10)
  • All too used to digging. (D12)
  • Terrible with animals. (D30)
  • A subpar rider. (D20)
  • An amateur horticulturist. (D20)
  • Too shaky for most fine work. (D30)

Vivian is able to:
  • Drain life from her surroundings. (D10)
  • Spread minor afflictions. (D20)


Madrich
Death

Though Madrich makes no particular attempt to make himself known, his presence, by nature, weighs heavy in the hearts of those around him. He holds no malice, of course – even by the standards spirits hold, death is neutral and inevitable.

Merging with Vivian is just as much a reclamation of his power as it is a fusion of the two. Madrich’s form blossoms from her body as a stories-high phantom, a barely-tangible shade that darkens the landscape with its presence. Within its confines drift vague, humanoid figures, men who shriek with silent rage and sob with muted sorrow, the remains of those Vivian has slain in battle. In the eye of this storm of the slain is a ribcage of pale bone, and in the cage rests the commander’s body, swaying and dancing with the Avatar’s movement like a macabre doll.

When it must act physically, it often does so through the use of an entirely expected scythe. Contrary to what one may expect from an Avatar, though the scythe is massive, its handle is of plain, aged wood and is quite well-worn, and the blade wickedly sharp and utilitarian, meant for a clean cut through all but the hardiest of…anything, really.

As it moves, Madrich’s Avatar withers plants and small creatures near it. While that makes it extremely convenient for use in dealing with rodent infestations, it would best be kept away from children.

Madrich has:
  • Strength uninhibited by biological limits. (D6)
  • A certain methodical swiftness. (D10)
  • Nigh-immunity to…well. (D4)
  • Ages of experience. (D6)
  • A sixth sense. (D8)
  • One less meat puppet to keep going. (D10)

Madrich can:
  • Fly. Well, it’s more like drifting, really. (D12)
  • Curse a creature to slowly wither away. (D10)
  • Drain the life from creatures around it. (D8)

Tobias Hearthfire

A plucky young shaman smithy with a reckless disregard for tradition.

Standing just short of six feet tall, Tobias is a spitting image of his father, Graham. With short, spiked black hair, muscle that could be chiselled into stone, and possibly used as the chisel, and seemingly perpetually covered in soot, he doesn't exactly cut a striking image. His slightly pale skin, however, is an oddity for such a healthy young lad. He wears a basic set of rough, thick leather trousers with cuffs tucked into heavy iron-plated leather boots. Over a (mostly brown and black-smeared) white short sleeve shirt, Tobias wears a chest piece of banded mail with relatively large plates making up each of the slats that sit over a base of leather armour, and relatively low-profile pauldrons covering each shoulder. For some odd reason, he also wears a basic leather vest over his banded mail chest piece, but under his pauldrons.

Thick leather gloves keep his hands safe, and a rough leather belt and study, simple buckle keeps his trousers in place. He is often seen with a backpack that almost always seems entirely full, even though he will occasionally add to it without concern - it also seemingly bears almost no effect on his ability to move, despite its weighty appearance. He has, sheathed at his hip, a well-forged longsword, and at his back a blank heater-shield that rests over the top of his backpack, ready to be drawn quickly.

Tobias has:
  • Anvil-born strength. (D8)
  • Honed agility. (D10)
  • A steel-plated constitution (D8), with infallible stamina. (D6)
  • A city-bound smithy's worldly knowledge. (D15)
  • Marketable perception. (D12)
  • Tempered sanity. (D8)
  • Quenched magic. (D20)

Tobias is:
  • Incredibly kind and giving. (D12)
  • Highly trained with all basic melee weapons and shields. (D10)
  • A very poor Ritualist. (D25)
  • A skilled blacksmith (D10) and leather craftsman. (D12)
  • Trained in Militia tactics. (D12)
  • A good conversationalist and empathiser. (D12)
  • Poor at maintaining spiritual tradition and implied respect. (D25)
  • Very heat resistant. (D10)
  • Decent at camping and survival skills. (D12)
  • Incapable of cooking. (D30)
  • Unexpectedly good at string instruments and vocals. (D10)
  • A trained rider. (D12)
  • Cool, calm and collected. (D12)
  • Often hungry, despite the size of his meals. (D25)
  • An average swimmer. (D12)
  • Mediocre in managing wounds (D15) but experienced in managing burns. (D10)
  • Reasonably versed in city commerce. (D12)
  • Skilled in the appraisal of smithy goods and materials. (D10)
  • Easily capable of identifying metal type, quality, origin and smithing technique. (D10)
  • Ashamedly somewhat afraid of the dark. (D25)

Tobias is able to:
  • Tell the time, day and date with his eyes closed. (D4)
  • Move inhumanly fast for extremely brief periods of time. (D8)

Tobias Background:



Tempus Fugit
Ten thousand lives of men has he walked this Earth and now he has no Time...

Nothing is known about Tobias' spirit bar that it has contracted with the young man. Even the Council refuses to comment on it. It has never manifested, and makes no indication of its existence.

To all players: All knowledge read from here onward is OOC knowledge unless heard in-game. The above, obviously not if you frequent Morningveil. I don't doubt any of your skills at avoiding metagaming, just reconfirming it; thanks!



Tempus Fugit's Avatar form Has:
  • Strength of the march of Time. (D12)
  • More agile than the sands of an hourglass. (D8)
  • Ageless health. (D12)
  • Timeless knowledge. (D8)
  • Perception as if he could spy the future. (D8)
  • A few grains of magic to be spared. (D15)

Tempus Fugit can:
  • ... Time Magic. (D8)
  • Rewrite his position in Space-Time. (D6)





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