Overview

I suppose that would be alright.

So far I can only find it in D20Modern (d20 Past, p19)

Can you find a source for that? And if we have summoner in the group we won't have to worry about it nearly as much.

There was a feat (sidekick or something) that granted a cohort one level below you but no followers. Would something like that be available?

No that's fine. If we need a meat shield we'll figure something out. I'm not going to worry about that. There's always leadership too.

Hey, I like my character but if we really do need a meat shield I can submit a war blade instead. It's been a while since I've made one of those.

In the Lord's stone hall, Eris stood, entirely content to be esconced on all sides by her comrades in arms. Directly in front of her, Hal, their 'spokesperson', sometimes referred to as the 'face of the company', was relating their deeds to Count Ekil, the pompous fart who was currently their employer. Hal, one of them garrulous half elves, wasn't just the face of the company, he was it's compass and way too smart to call himself Captain within this collection of oversized egos.. he just was and didn't need to announce it. Eris pretty much always voted with Hal, when it came to a vote.. to the extent that sometimes the others forgot to ask her. Gurthak the Half Orc was behind him and to one side, on her left. Gurthak was the stick, and at a sliver under seven feet tall, a big stick to Hal's carrot. More of a plank really. On the other side, her right was Darien, their dwarven priest. Darien was currently holding her hand, knowing she was a little anxious in situations where strangers were involved and she couldn't just hurl sorcery at them, or stand back and watch Gurthak or Hal beat them to the death. Patric was their 'locksmith', an ever faintly smiling goblin with a cigar stub in his mouth. Being a thiefly alchemist, Eris was worried one of the twenty or so glass vials on his person would unexpectedly burst one day and up he'd go, from a material standpoint, while going down from a spiritual standpoint. He was standing behnd her, something that would make a lot of people uncomfortable, but she'd known him for years. Eris loved being in the background and so found herself discomfited when she realized the corpulent turd, the vomitous afterbirth, was peering past Hal to get a good look at her. "Every mage I've ever encountered gave me the distinct impression they considered themself to be a God in the making. Thus, you presents quite the enigma, little bird.", he sneered. "I'm just an advisor, my Lord.", she replied, the only reason she didn't stammer was countless hours practising not to. Stammering was a good way to cast a spell badly. So, she spoke slowly and waited for Hal to cover for her, a service she'd given up her vote to acquire.

@snugglepooh I wrote a dwarven smith into my backstory, then saw you ; would you be ok to be wrote in instead?

Manser crouched low, the fog creeping through the forest, his Goggles of Fire Eyes making everything clear as day. He glanced between Lurael, the druid, and Orvin, the dwarven blacksmith. Lurael was calm, as usual, her eyes scanning the enemy encampment ahead—a few demons lounging near a fire, unaware of their presence. "We'll need to neutralize the guards first," Lurael whispered, tracing a path in the dirt with a thin stick. "Then, I'll summon some briars here to cut off their escape. You can set off your smoke sticks once we're in position. It'll be chaos, but we'll be the only ones who can see through it." She shot him a knowing look, her voice low and strategic, confident in the precision of her plan. Manser's face remained impassive, but his eyes flicked to the ground, then back to her. A slight nod. He liked the plan. Methodical. Precise. No loose ends. His hand drifted to his belt where the smoke sticks were ready, confirming what he knew: Lurael was right. They needed control, not chaos. "Bah, we don't need all this sneakin' about," Orvin grumbled, his rough voice breaking the quiet. The dwarf's fingers tightened around the handle of his heavy axe. "Just charge in, bash their heads in, and be done with it. They're demons, not some tricky devils. A few swings, and they'll be in the ground before they know what hit them." He stood taller as if already ready to march in. Manser turned his head slowly, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly at Orvin. No words came, but he put a hand on Orvin's shoulder, holding him back. With the subtle tightening of his jaw and brow furrowed, he shook his head. He pointed to Lurael and raised his thumb. His hand hovered over his crossbow, fingers brushing the bolt tips—his silent agreement with Lurael's plan. His gaze met the dwarf's, one eyebrow lifting slightly in disapproval before he looked back to Lurael with a more determined, settled expression. He trusted her. Orvin huffed but fell silent.

%5BURL%3Dhttp%3A%2F%2Fwww.myth-weavers.com%2Fsheet.html%23id%3D2946990%5D%5BB%5D%5BSIZE%3D%2B1%5DManser%20Starkkind%5B%2FSIZE%5D%5B%2FB%5D%5B%2FURL%5D%0AM%20N%20Whisper%20Gnome%20(Races%20of%20Stone)%20Rogue%2C%20%5BB%5DLevel%5B%2FB%5D%205%2C%20%5BB%5DInit%5B%2FB%5D%204%2C%20%5BB%5DHP%5B%2FB%5D%2046%2F46%2C%20%5BB%5DSpeed%5B%2FB%5D%2030%0A%5BB%5DAC%5B%2FB%5D%2020%2C%20%5BB%5DTouch%5B%2FB%5D%2015%2C%20%5BB%5DFlat-footed%5B%2FB%5D%2016%2C%20%5BB%5DFort%5B%2FB%5D%206%2C%20%5BB%5DRef%5B%2FB%5D%209%2C%20%5BB%5DWill%5B%2FB%5D%201%2C%20%5BB%5DBase%20Attack%20Bonus%5B%2FB%5D%203%20%20%20%0A%5BB%5DDarkwood%2C%20Masterwork%20Crossbow%2C%20light%20(2lb)%20%5B%2FB%5D%209%20(1d6%20(%2B3d6)%2C%2019-20%2Fx2)%0A%5BB%5DIron%2C%20Cold%2C%20Masterwork%20Morningstar%20(6lb)%20%5B%2FB%5D%209%20(1d6%20(%2B3d6)%2C%20x2)%0A%5BB%5DSilver%2C%20Alchemical%2C%20Masterwork%20Sickle%20(1lb)%20%5B%2FB%5D%209%20(1d4-1%20(%2B3d6)%2C%20x2)%0A%5BB%5DMithral%20(6%201%2F4)%20lb.%20Chain%20Shirt%5B%2FB%5D%2C%20%5BB%5D%20%20Bracers%20of%20Armor%5B%2FB%5D%20(%2B4%20Armor%2C%20%2B1%20Shield%2C%20%2B4%20Dex%2C%20%2B1%20Size)%0A%5BB%5DAbilities%5B%2FB%5D%20Str%2010%2C%20Dex%2018%2C%20Con%2018%2C%20Int%2015%2C%20Wis%208%2C%20Cha%2013%0A%5BB%5DCondition%5B%2FB%5D%20None%20%0A Manser Starkkind M N Whisper Gnome (Races of Stone) Rogue, Level 5, Init 4, HP 46/46, Speed 30 AC 20, Touch 15, Flat-footed 16, Fort 6, Ref 9, Will 1, Base Attack Bonus 3 Darkwood, Masterwork Crossbow, light (2lb) 9 (1d6 (+3d6), 19-20/x2) Iron, Cold, Masterwork Morningstar (6lb) 9 (1d6 (+3d6), x2) Silver, Alchemical, Masterwork Sickle (1lb) 9 (1d4-1 (+3d6), x2) Mithral (6 1/4) lb. Chain Shirt, Bracers of Armor (+4 Armor, +1 Shield, +4 Dex, +1 Size) Abilities Str 10, Dex 18, Con 18, Int 15, Wis 8, Cha 13 Condition None Manser Starkkind is a figure of quiet pragmatism, a Whisper Gnome Rogue who lets his actions and expressions speak louder than words. Though he tends to remain silent, his facial expressions and gestures are often enough to communicate what he's feeling or thinking, making him an enigmatic presence in a group. His practical approach to life makes him flexible, following the rules when they suit him but not hesitating to bend them if they help achieve his goals. Manser Starkkind's life has been shaped by encounters with devils, demons, and angels, whose cosmic conflicts have torn through the lives of those around him. He has watched these beings—each with agendas—destroy lives, leaving ruin in their wake. Manser has lost friends and even seen his own family shattered by their influence, a personal tragedy that has left deep scars. Manser has fought to help those trapped by these forces despite the devastation, lending his skills to friends and allies in need. His experiences with these otherworldly beings have hardened his outlook, fueling his pragmatic approach to life. While he may seem cold and silent, his willingness to bend the rules reflects a desire to protect others from suffering the same fate as his family. The memories of those battles stay with him, quietly shaping his choices as he navigates the dangerous paths of his rogue life. Manser Starkkind's family was once close-knit, living in a quiet, secluded gnome community. His parents were skilled artisans—his father a renowned alchemist, and his mother an expert trapmaker. From an early age, Manser showed a natural aptitude for both alchemy and mechanics, learning to mix volatile concoctions and craft intricate traps under their guidance. His childhood was filled with the hum of bubbling flasks and gears clicking, all within the warmth of a loving home. That idyllic life was shattered when devils and demons descended upon their region, drawn by an ancient pact that had gone awry. His family, once prosperous, became caught in the crossfire of a celestial struggle between angels and infernal forces. Despite his parents' skills, they couldn't stop the devastation. His father was lost in a desperate attempt to protect their home, and his mother, once a brilliant trapmaker, was broken by grief and fear. Their community fell apart, leaving Manser orphaned and with the weight of his family's legacy on his shoulders. In the years following his family's destruction, Manser sought refuge among survivors, including a Druid named Lurael, who became a mentor and friend. Lurael, having lost her family to demonic forces, saw a kindred spirit in Manser. She taught him how to hide, swim, and climb. She crafted the Goggles of Fire Eyes for him, synergizing with the alchemy he knew to remain unseen. Manser's other companions were those who, like him, had been affected by the celestial wars. A dwarven blacksmith, Jorde, provided him with various bolts and weapons to be effective against the forces at war, which became his signature weapons. An old trapper named Goren taught him how to easily deactivate traps and detect danger in even the most secure locations. These friends helped him hone his skills but also shared the weight of loss, reinforcing Manser's deep-rooted belief that the world was a dangerous place where rules were sometimes made to be broken if it meant survival. Though many of his friends were lost in battles against infernal forces, their teachings stayed with Manser. Their sacrifices and his family's downfall left him with a somber resolve to never let anyone close die again, but also a willingness to fight for those who the cruel whims of devils, demons, and angels alike have wronged. Though quiet, Manser's pragmatism and alchemical prowess make him an invaluable ally who operates in the shadows but always has a tool or trick to get the job done.

In the next few days I'm going to put up a pregame roleplay thread. That way those of you that need to feel out the characters can.

Amazing thank you.

As long as it's in the books I don't mind.

Do you allow for psions to learn new powers via independent research? Per the srd: Independent Research A psion also can research a power independently, duplicating an existing power or creating an entirely new one. If characters are allowed to develop new powers, use these guidelines to handle the situation. Any kind of manifester can create a new power. The research involved requires access to a retreat conducive to uninterrupted meditation. Research involves an expenditure of 200 XP per week and takes one week per level of the power. At the end of that time, the character makes a Psicraft check (DC 10 + spell level). If that check succeeds, the character learns the new power if her research produced a viable power. If the check fails, the character must go through the research process again if she wants to keep trying.

reserved

Reserved area for example post

Reserved area for bookkeeping for DM's convenience

Aaru of Shaleridge A reed in the wind; bent but unbroken. Sheet here Name: Aaru Class:Erudite Race: Dark Warforged Gender: Female Configuration Alignment: Lawful Neutral Age: - Role: Variable. Best at utility and healing. Profession: Healer/Medic Backstory Personality Appearance Statblock Here - WIP

Hopefully I'll have better luck here than I usually do.

How about wine...? Can we not track wine? Lol

Sheet is done and I managed to generate an image I can live with.

I'm not worried about mundane stuff to be honest. Just as long as you don't go overboard on it.

How specific do we need to be with gear? Are we tracking candles and twine and rations and stuff?

Str - 11 Dex - 15 Con - 16 Int - 15 Wis - 17 +1 Cha - 15

Sheet: Sister Maisy :: Dungeons & Dragons 3.5e :: Myth-Weavers Online Character Sheets Name: Sister Maisy Race: Human Class: Witch Sister Maisy Looks and Likes Appearance: Sister Maisy is a tall human female with long, jet-black hair that is very straight and blows easily in the wind. Sister Maisy is of a trim build with an ample bosom, her eyes are a deep purple and she has naturally black lips and fingernails. There are other markings down her back and on her arms, these look like runes or some form of symbol-style writing. Sister Maisy always wears black, all made by her fair hand. Personality: Contrary to her appearance, Sister Maisy is a warm and kind soul who tends to the local's health needs. She will deliver babies, tend to the sick, heal ails of all sorts and fix broken bones. The peasants she tends to usually pay her by way of meat, veg or baked goods. Sister Maisy is not the religious sort, however, she does say prayers to Ehlonna and has a small shrine to her in her home. History Backstory: Born in the kingdom of Lolfray in the capital of Efren, Maisy was just an ordinary child like the others. She had friends who had dolls just like she did and was loved by both her parents, the only blight on this family was her grandmother, "Penny the Fox". Penny was a witch and everyone feared her, there was no real reason to. On Maisy's 13 birthday, Penny came to their home. She walked in uninvited and declared that Maisy was to come to her and begin her training, neither of Maisy's parents said a word. Maisy was oblivious to whom she was or why people feared her, it took a day and a half for them to reach Penny's house which was a little picturesque cottage on the verge of the village of Nortonia. Here Maisy began her training, reading book after book and an endless array of plants and their properties. Three years later Sister Maisy as she was called had begun to make her rounds of the village, calling into various houses (never waiting to be invited) and checking upon those who needed her care. It was on one such day that three injured souls staggered into the village and collapsed in the square, Sister Maisy looked them over and immediately began casting curing spells to mend their bleeding wounds. Two days later they woke up in Penny's parlour, Penny was having a bath, and she knew no shame in stepping out and walking over to the men and looking them over. They told a tale of gold and treasure, the problem was the undead guarding it. The adventurers moved out into the local Inn and Maisy agreed to accompany them, The night before they were to set off Penny called Maisy to her bed, Penny was weak and wanted to give her granddaughter one last hug. As Maisy hugged Penny, Penny died and all the witch-like abilities entered Maisy along with Penny's essence. Maisy woke the next dawn and dug a grave for her grandmother, the others came to see where she was and helped her with the burial, and once done they set off to finish the job they had started. Maisy was as prepared as she could be, she had food and spare clothes, a staff as her weapon and of course her spells. When they arrived at the temple, they were in for a shock, the undead were wandering the graveyard. Maisy used her spells to blast them down and the rest used their magical weapons to kill them, getting under the temple they found fewer undead but those that were there were more powerful. The last fight was a powerful ghoul who had control over the undead, they were relentless but Maisy kept healing the party until it dropped. Finally, they could reap their rewards, Maisy was given a fair share and she returned to her grandmother's cottage only to find her father had sold it. Not only that, they had sold up and moved on, Maisy bought a room in the back of an Inn. The world was a big place and she now had to forge her own destiny, where that was no one knew but she was going to find it.