Character Creation

This game runs under the E6 rules. Which can be found HERE
All characters start level 2.
You may be Human, Dwarf or Elf. That's it.
There are no caster types, everyone has the opportunity to learn spells of both divine and arcane origin, however this is done differently from the norm, more details will be in the "special rules" thread, check this thread regularly, since you will discover rules often.
Starting gold is 250gp
If it isn't a core text, run it by me before you use it for your character.
No Psions (Yet...)
Stats are 32 point buy.
Decipher Script is a class skill for everyone.

Post your submissions here.

Hello, just posting interest. And it seems that your link is broken, it goes to "here.com", and also i tried copy&pasting it but i couldn't seem to find the R6 rules, do i need to make an enworld account?

oh damn i must have mixed the link and the name up >.<
give me two seconds and you will have a fixed link, no ENworld account needed (I don't have one myself)

Two quick questions...

1.) Which of the various approaches to feats at/after level 6 will this game be using? Cautious? Gestalt? Lean Upwards?

2.) Since Decipher Script is (potentially) going to be particularly important in determining how secure a hunter's journal is and how easily they can decipher the journals of others, will there be any means for non-Rogues to gain access to the skill as anything but a cross class skill?

Istvan the Wayfarer
Human Ranger


Istvan was born to a lowly village of farmers and sheep herders, taught to not expect life to be exciting, merely hard work and close family. Nothing else was needed in this life and so there was no reason to stare at the stars at night.

The young boy accepted what he was taught, content to watch over his father's sheep at night, keeping the fire lit to ward off wolves and other predatory animals that might wish to make a meal out of one of the sheep.

It was on his fourteenth birthing day that he was out with the sheep, looking up at the stars despite his father's disdain for such things. His attention was abruptly pulled into the mundane world with the fearful mewing of a sheep. Snatching up a firebrand and his crook, the boy ran to where the sheep were herded and barely caught sight of an animal making off with one of his charges. It looked to be a wolf and he gripped his crook harder; but ventured on to follow, not caring to be beaten by his father later for losing one of the flock.

The wolf led him deep into Lenton Wood, a dark place of dense trees that did too good a job at blocking the light of the sun and moon both. Still he followed, eyes flitting back and forth, up and down as he stumbled along an imaginary path.

Just when he was thinking to give up the chase and let the wolf have its kill, he heard movement and voices up ahead. Dropping down to his hands and knees, the boy crept up closer and parted some bushes to see a roaring fire with a small group of people dancing around it. Shockingly to the boy, they were frolicing naked around the fire, chanting nonsense words and raising cups into the air. The wolf he had been tracking entered the clearing, dropping the sheep onto the ground, where it mewed pitifully; but lived. Istvan was relived, he might be able to convince these people to give him back the sheep and let him go on his way.

He stood to make his way down to them, when the wolf seemed to blur and shimmer in the firelight, becoming a comely young woman. His eyes had stared at the stars too long and he had gone mad from dreaming, he told himself. A wolf could not become a beautiful woman, it was not possible.

The woman picked up the sheep and took it around the fire where a stone table had been erected a few feet from the fire. The dancers slowed their pace and moved to circle the table, chanting louder and raising their mugs high again. The woman joined in the chanting as well, her voice singing melody to their chorus, in a deep and resonating tone. He was captivated by the sound and for the first time, felt his loins swell and the warmth of desire fill him. His mind reeled from the emotions and he watched helplessly as the woman took up a steel knife and slit the sheep's throat. Its blood splattered over the stone table, running in rivulets over the sides. The woman licked the blood from the glittering blade and laughed in triumph, the dancers pausing to approach the table and tear into the carcass with their fingers, feeding finger fulls of bloody flesh into their mouths. The entrancing woman drove her hands into the sheep, pulling its heart free and bringing it to her breasts, squeezing and letting the lifeblood of the animal cover her arousing features.

Istvan had seen enough and he almost cried as a warm stream of urine ran down his leg. He moved to run off, only to see the young woman look at him and laugh, lifting her head back and howling like a moonstruck wolf...

The boy turned and ran and ran, stumbled and then got up and ran, all the way back to the herd. He could not return home, not this early, so he huddled in the roots of a large tree and wrapped his arms around his young body, rocking back and forth and trying to block out what he had seen and heard that night.

It was some years later, that a young man, a forester and hunter, made his way across the meadows near Lenton Wood. He followed an unseen path into the wood for some time, unerringly coming to a small clearing, overgrown with plants and briars. Pulling away some of the growth revealed a stone table, stained long ago with the blood of who knows what unfortunate thing. The man knelt and examined the area, noting impressions in the ground and torn cloth on caught on thorns. Finally, he took out a small book and set it on the table, retrieving an inkpot and quill from his pack and jotting down notes into the book, his finger running along the stone table, tracing runes etched into it long ago...

Meygan Smith
Human Bard

WIP

Meygan was the daughter of a smithy; nothing special, save for her pretty face. The young human woman often found herself wondering at the world outside the small village where she grew up. While her father was not a tender man, he had considerable love for his daughter, who, was the spitting image of her late mother. The man missed his deceased wife terribly and Meygan often found him passed out in the bar or in the streets surrounding it.

For Meygan, this was a source of great humiliation. Still, the young woman wouldn't dare confront her father on such a thing. He was a harsh man with strict rules and in a sense, she feared him.

The man wasn't without a sense of understanding with regard to her, however, and he saw to it that her maternal uncle begin training her for school; a life perhaps better than what he could offer her. Meygan took to it like a fish to water, often spending hours in study to perfect some aspect of a new ideas he had been taught. While she was nothing extraordinary, she was dilegent all the same.

Meygan's true love was reading the great poems. She would only do so after she was certain her father was asleep and then, she immersed herself completely in the romantic fantasy world the stories created. She had dreams that she would be swept away by a prince. Later, she simply thought the stories beautiful, knowing that no prince would ever come for a simple country girl.

One day, Meygan was out in the fields surrounding the village, picking lavendar for sale in perfumes when she smelled smoke. It wasn't unusual at first but as she neared the village she saw to her horror that it had been attacked by mauraders. They were merciless. They were ruthless.

Terrified and alone, Meygan remained crouched in the fields until she was sure that it was safe to come out of hiding. She waited for several days until a hunter found her clutching the tattered remains of her favorite poetry book.

Meygan hurled herself into her only love to find solace from that day on. She learned how to apply music to the poems she wrote and studied a variety of literature genres to better represent the feelings that were locked deeply with in her. She wasn't as outgoing as other performers, but perhaps more effective given how she put her heart into her work.

Meygan had the great fortune of coming upon a woodsman. He had lived alone for many years and was more than happy to have the company. In this, she learned important skills of trapping and hunting as well as foraging. It wasn't long before the old man introduced her to the hunter's guild.

She was sweet and young when she first arrived. A little reserved, perhaps, but she most certainly warmed the hearts of those who spoke with her. Meygan still was all too ambitious to go out into the world and fight evil. At the guild she learned about terrible monsters, far worse than the mere humans who had attacked her village. The concept intrigued her and she set out to learn as much as she could from all of the various hunters who drifted in and out of the area.

This of course proved challenging as more than a few were a little reluctant to spill horror stories to such a cute childlike woman. She persevered none the less, dreaming of the day when she would go on her first hunt.

roleI see Meygan as something like a young recruit who is very ambitious to go out and hunt the foul beasts.

Two very important questions Critical.
To avoid any feat taxes or the like, I shall simply say that Decipher Script is a class skill for all hunters, since they are very well versed in reading cryptic tomes and writing cryptic journals.

The Method used will be cautious.

Blick, nice story I shall be looking through your sheet to check up on everything but you may well be accepted, my only worry seems to be that you are in a huge number of games, will you have time for another?

Adaiah, just a couple of things. If you choose a bard you will not have access to any casting just so you know. Also orcs aren't as common a sight in this setting, in fact they are considered monsters and are terrifying to people as such, and are generally thought of as fairy tales, though if thats what you were getting at then feel free :P

Key: Almost half of the games I am in are very slow and I usually have a lot of time to post, so no worries. Even on a hectic day I can usually post at least once per game.

Saltator Umbra
Elf Rogue


Saltator was raised by his father, Saggitario. He was an average elf, of average height and weight. He had crystal blue eyes and short blonde hair. He found himself to be quite nimble and intelligent. Yet his strength was something to be admired. He was a gorgeous elf, but he lacked the charisma due to being secluded in the woods without anyone to mingle with. They lived in a forest secluded from a normal society. Yet, when they needed supplies, Perfidee often found himself wandering into the nearby towns or villages to “burrow” any supplies him and his father needed.

He had become so well with his skills of stealth and espionage that he had created a small title that he often heard on the tongues of villagers. “The Ghost” is what he had heard and Saltator grew rather fond of this title. So much so that instead of spending time at home with his father, he would go to town and wander the town or spend the day at the inn just to hear the stories. Some people were infuriated, while others simply scared, still there were some that were indifferent and just liked making up the stories.

Time went on and the stories grew and grew. It became increasingly harder to get the supplies they needed to survive, but somehow Saltator always managed. It was fall and Perfidee left to get some spices and tools to help for the winter. When he got to the town he decided would be the best to get the supplies from he noticed something very eerie. There was not a soul in the entire town. He became increasingly worried. He gathered his needed supplies and turned to leave and as he left he noticed the temple had a light glowing in the windows. He decided to investigate.

Upon looking into the windows he noticed that all the women and children of the town were in the temple, yet no men were present. He became worried and hurriedly left the town and raced back to his home. He was too late however, his home was burned and upon closer investigation his father was hung in a tree nearby, dead, with multiple cuts and bruises as well as a missing hand. Saltator became furious. Yet no one was around, so his anger had no release. He left his home to burn and took his father away to a nearby stream and under a willow tree he buried his father. He was so stricken with grief that he secluded himself, living off the land of the forest for many years. He stayed away from any village and when he finally got over his grief he decided the best thing to do would be to swallow his vengeance and instead live his life like his father would’ve wanted.

He entered a nearby town and offered his services as a sell-sword and thief to those willing to pay the coin. It was a tough life for him, but he grew and eventually he began to adjust to life in the town with so many people around. And so his story begins…