Spider42Jerusalem

I think that's got it finished. I feel a little better about where he's headed (in some respects 🫣). If you have any questions/comments/concerns, by all means, hit me up. Otherwise, I think Chilly is good to go.

Name Virtue Chronicle Chilly Stoble Justice Gotham Age Vice Faction 34 Greed Faction Player Concept Group Name spider42 Hardbitten Vice Detective Group Name ATTRIBUTES Power Intelligence ●●○○○ Strength ●●○○○ Presence ●●○○○ Finesse Wits ●●●○○ Dexterity ●●○○○ Manipulation ●●●○○ Resilience Resolve ●●○○○ Stamina ●●○○○ Composure ●●●○○ SKILLS Mental (7) (-3 unskilled) Physical (11) (-1 unskilled) Social (4) (-1 unskilled) Academics ●○○○○ Athletics ●○○○○ Animal Ken ○○○○○ Computer ○○○○○ Brawl ●●●●○ Empathy ●○○○○ Crafts ○○○○○ Drive ●○○○○ Expression ○○○○○ InvestigationBody Language ●●●○○ Firearms ●○○○○ Intimidation ●●○○○ Medicine ●○○○○ Larceny ●●○○○ Persuasion ●○○○○ Occult ○○○○○ Stealth ○○○○○ SocializeBar Hopping ●●○○○ Politics ●●○○○ Survival ○○○○○ StreetwiseBlack Market ●●○○○ Science ○○○○○ Weaponry ●●○○○ SubterfugeSpotting Lies ●●○○○ MERITS HUMANITY MISC. Barfly ● Brawling Dodge ● Contacts (Black Market) ● Contacts (Yakuza) ● Contacts (Italian Mafia) ● Contacts (Chinese Triad) ● Fighting Style (Kung Fu) ●●● Language (Mandarin Chinese) ● Resources ● Status (GPD) ● Sworn Officer (Free) Flaws Notoriety ● HEALTH ●●●●●○○○○○○○ □□□□□□□□□□□□ WILLPOWER ●●●●● ○○○○○ □□□□□ □□□□□ CONSCIENCE ●●●●●●●○○○ Size 5 Speed 9 Defense 2 Armor 0 Initiative Mod 5 Description Chilly is 5’9” tall, a little round about the middle with a gut that comes from too much alcohol. He smokes whatever's on hand, often cheap cigars, and carries a flask of gin in his coat. His personal hygiene often leaves something to be desired, moving from one hangover to the next and working some in between. His eyes are slate grey and seem to have all the warmth of a concrete sidewalk. His hair is curly, thick and black and he hasn’t shaved in a few days. He typically wears casual clothing, often not recently washed. Weekends or undercover work typically see him in party-goer outfits, ready to hit the clubs with a vengeance. Because of where he works, and how often he deals with out-of-town criminals, he carries a nonstandard revolver, the Taurus Judge. Chilly’s handshake is like a vice, even though he is by no means a large person, and has nearly failed every physical test the GPD has put him through. Growing Up In Gotham Chilly has a problem with the self-righteous authority of the City—especially because most of it isn’t that righteous. And it’s a really big problem. Which is one of the reasons why he is still stuck in Vice, barely up for Detective, with few prospects for moving up or even laterally to another department. He can be grating and intimidating, sometimes even with co-workers, but especially with suspects when in the station. When hitting the streets, Chilly seems to have a knack for being able to make some level of small talk that often gets him into places that tell other officers to take a hike. He has a deserved reputation for tenacity regarding his investigations. His goal is to put the worst scum behind bars, or better yet, if they shoot first, put them six feet under and save the paperwork. Outright murder is beneath him and his rather skewed sense of justice. He has been known (and reprimanded multiple times) for beating suspects who did something when he was present (beating children, force-injecting prostitutes with heroin to make them compliant, etc). Working Vice has taken a toll on Chilly and it’s readily apparent from many of his interactions that he’s haunted by some of what he’s seen. Christened Chilton Hamblin Stoble by parents who were from a Gotham family that had lived in the city for generations, Chilly, as he goes by, grew up right in Gotham City. His father, Daniel, was a drunken, abusive factory worker like his old man before him. Chilly’s mom, Henrietta was a seamstress. Between the two of them, they eked out a living with six children in an apartment over the Central Bus Station. Chilly wasn’t that bright, wasn’t good at sports and didn’t have a particularly good work ethic. All of which contributed somewhat to his violent upbringing. He didn’t impress his old man. Hardly held a job to help his family out growing up (he started working at the age of 13, and got involved with some of the gangs at 14). Being small for his age, he continually took beatings from the schoolyard bullies of the inner city. Despite his upbringing, or perhaps because of it, he developed a tenacity of spirit that defies logic. He lived in a neighborhood that bordered three different sections of town. So there were three times as many bullies, gangs, crimes, and generally bad people as there were in other parts of Gotham. One day, after a particularly bad schoolyard fight in high school, he was limping home with no money, two broken ribs and a plethora of bruises. An old fellow named Liu Feng, who owned the local laundromat, saw Chilly and offered to help him home. Despite Chilly’s arguments and attempting to violently refuse, Old Feng forced him into an armlock and walked him home, stopping by a clinic for treatment. The old man had seen Chilly fight often, and offered to teach him how to defend himself. Chilly tried to refuse, and Old Feng beat him like a drum to prove the point that the young man needed skills. So Chilly started going to the laundromat every day after school. The boy wasn’t strong enough to be good in a brawl per se, but he took to using whatever weaponry was at hand well enough. Old Feng ensured that the young man-to-be learned restraint though, as well as how to fight—he didn’t want Chilly growing up to be more a criminal than the boy already was. After learning how to face off against an attacker, the young man learned how to talk down some attackers, or at least put them off guard so he could arm himself. Those lessons in when to fight probably kept Chilly out of far more trouble than just street brawls—it kept him off the radar of the bigger gangs, and away from organized crime. He spent far more time at Old Feng’s than he did at home during high school, mostly to get away from his family. During that time, Feng taught Chilly a bit of Mandarin as well, a skill that wound up helping Chilly quite a bit during his time in Vice. Given his thoughts on how the world worked, and looking at it from the bottom up, it might be surprising that he went to the Gotham Police Academy rather than working for the Falcone crime family as an enforcer or package boy. He actually started work at the GPD with an almost upbeat tune, somehow rising above his childhood. Likely much of that was due to the time he spent with Old Feng. Chilly wasn’t a particularly talented officer in the shooting department, though. Or the intelligence department, the politicking department, hell, pretty much anything one would need to advance in the Gotham PD. But he was tenacious and unafraid to get into bad situations. Despite his otherwise meager smarts, Chilly had a knack for finding things on the street with a quick word and a sharp eye. But time on the Force in Gotham City would harden even Mother Theresa. After working his old stomping grounds as a patrolman for a few years, he had enough street connections and experience to get a slot in Vice. For some reason, he just couldn’t resist the misery that came with that department. Something about the bottom of society draws him like a moth to the flame. As much as he hated the people he dealt with, he didn’t actually hate his job, despite his many protestations to the contrary. He always hated the red tape, though. The Law ought to serve Justice, not the other way around. After only a few months in Vice, Chilly found his niche. He’s not afraid to get dirty, intimidate the crooks, or even let the smallfry’s go to get at the big ones. But several years living on the razor’s edge with the pulse of the city in his ears and guns pointed at him on a weekly basis has taken its toll. Lately he’s taken to drinking more, especially when he runs out of sleeping pills. His heartbeat is the streets, and Gotham’s streets never sleep. Quote “I don’t sleep much. Not anymore. Used to, back when I first joined the Force. Too much time on the streets. Too many bodies. Too many bad guys that get away--or worse yet, put in Gotham’s “catch-and-release” program. 'Vice'. Funny. I used to think that was the department I worked in. I’m pretty sure now it’s what you do to make it day to day in this job. Everybody’s got at least one. Vice. Gutters. Trash. The outcasts. The lost and the damned. Whoever the people in polite society, the oh-so-noble rich folk who run this dump don’t want to deal with. That’s who I run with. That’s my workday. Sifting through human waste trying to ‘protect and serve’. Not sure I believe that much anymore, but for some reason I just can’t let it go. Never could. Course when you work in sewer, you gotta deal with the stench. Everything’s shit, so I just look for the really big turds clogging up the drain and get them flushed. I can let ‘Daddy-O’ run his little nightstand of fleshy delights down on 3rd and Oakland, pimping 3 girls I grew up with. Why? Because he tells me how and where to find the Golden Dragon’s next incoming boatload of heroin and thirty human-trafficked slave-prostitutes. I have what I like to call 'coupons' with a lot of street scum--let’s be real, we’re all scum, some just live further out of the pond. 'Coupons' are favors people owe me. And occasionally, favors I owe others. Can’t be helped in a job like this. Just gotta make sure you balance the books once in a while." CharCreation Specialties (3): Intimidation (Veiled Threats), Socialize (Bar Hopping), Streetwise (Black Market) EXP: 44/45 9 - Socialize 0->2 6 - Streetwise 1->2 2 - Brawling Dodge 2 - Resources 1 2 - Language (Mandarin Chinese) 1 12 - Subterfuge 0->2 and Specialty (Spotting Lies) 3 - Specialty Investigation (Body Language) 6 - Intimidation 1->2 2 - Contacts (Black Market) 1

Seiyako of Wort The young lady looked on in wonder during the trip to the warehouse. She'd seen some of it before, but the sight of the ship nearly floored her. She listened with rapt attention to the discussion, clearly the man Davin had good instincts because he was already asking good questions. Waiting for a pause in the discussion, Seiyako thought for a bit then interjected, "Giant monitor lizard." At the attention of others she looked a little sheepish, "Probably. It could be a Megalania instead, but I doubt it. Too many people." What she internalized was more along the lines of "nobody's died yet, and that's a pretty small estimate so it's not a primeval reptile." It was a reasonable deduction given where they were located. She had no specific tie to the animal kingdom, so charming it away was unlikely. Still, it was just an animal. One they might be very well paid to handle. Seiyako was about to head to the door when something occurred to her, "Do you happen to have a map of the warehouse, or could you show us where the hole is? And perhaps any other place down there where it might hide? Some place warm maybe." Hope was on her face for a useful answer. They could almost certainly handle it if they didn't know, but it was better not to go in blind when possible. Predators didn't like to be cornered.

Seiyako of Wort Seiyako's features, accent, and method of speaking as well as the make of her garments painted her as someone who almost certainly had Ossan ancestry. Johnny's attempts to win her over weren't entirely unsuccessful, as she allowed him to take her hand. Looking on with curiosity as he leaned in to kiss her hand, she looked a bit abashed at his efforts, the caked grime under nails and in every crease of her skin perhaps a little less pleasant to be kissing than Johnny might have otherwise wished. That hadn't seemed to bother her as she was eating earlier, and it was perhaps a bit odd that even staying at an inn she remained that grungy. "Your words are really flowery, Johnny," she bemusedly responded, whether good or not was unclear. by her tone. Utaxa looked back and forth between the two, his unnaturally colored eyes regarding the interactions inquisitively. Bobbing his head up and down at the proffered pear, he gingerly reached forward to pull it free from the bard's fingers. Savagely gulping down the treat, the miniature dinosaur eyed Johnny once more, its reptilian expression belying nothing. At the introduction of the others, Seiyako gave an awkward courtesy that was oddly reminiscent of an Ossan bow, yet different enough to not be. "Pleasure to meet you, Davin, Raalk. As to how or what I eat, I know a few things about making it palatable," she finished with a wink to Davin.

Seiyako of Wort The approach of others at first caused Seiyako to withdraw, but some of the banter was at the very least, intriguing. As the musician introduced himself with a dramatic flair that no doubt normally had an effect on the crowd, the tattooed lady simply looked entranced, as if she were expecting him to do something. When Macintosh didn't do much more than seek name recognition, she just looked around to see if she should be . . . . clapping or amazed or at least mildly impressed. Since none of those things occurred presently, she felt it important to clarify, "Sooo, you make furniture, for a stage?" Her question was genuine, coming from somewhere past rural and on to outright bumpkin. Many were the secrets she knew, but stardom was not among them. Rough as she was around all edges, she'd still had a certain set of manners impressed upon her with a willow switch growing up, "Oh, excuse me, that's rude of me. I'm Seiyako of--" she caught herself almost naming the region of her family's namesake. Did anyone know that she'd escaped? Who was still looking for her? It had been several seasons now, yet she still couldn't stop looking over her shoulder. "Seiyako," she stated bluntly, if a bit awkwardly, not inviting further questions. A small trill from down by her feet had her sputter an apology, "Oh, excuse me, and this is Utaxa." She pointed to the green and brown bipedal lizard that poked out from behind her skirts, its algae-colored eyes regarding the gathering group inquisitively. Nodding at Davin, "Well, I suppose I don't mind taking leftovers. I make medicines, and certain organs can be very useful. Others are edible and, well, it's expensive to eat here." Sheepishly, she looked away. She'd found that a great many city-folk didn't seem to appreciate the taste of well-aged meat found in a forest/by a road/under a bridge/behind the barn. Oddly, it seemed to turn a few of them off. The upside was that she usually didn't have to share.

Seiyako of Wort It had been a challenging few months. Seiyako had been making ends meet but not as well as she would have liked. After a run-in with a Watchtower mage for selling potions without a license, she'd moved to Otari and resorted to simple herbal remedies for earning a living. While this kept her out of the sights of anyone from the Watchtower, it didn't pay much. And it was more than a little constraining, to not practice all the crafts she'd been brought up with. At least most people now just politely ignored her as opposed to looking at her with suspicion. As if that all weren't enough, the Dream had started up: her running through the woods, then a village then the woods, always just ahead of a flood of mud, water and debris. From out of the frothy tide that followed her, Seiyako could hear something rasping her name though bubbles. She always woke up sweating from it. This morning was no different. Her clothes were damp with sweat and the air was a little chilly. Wrapping her shawl around herself, Utaxa pulled itself from between her covers and stretched with a yawn as the lizard regarded her lazily. She set about staring into one of the creature's mud-brown eyes and felt her consciousness drop down into that dark place where she teased out the power of magic from the giant swirling eddy below her in the astral void. With a snap back to her small room in the back area of the Windy Pig, she looked at the muddy handprints she'd left on the floor this time, whispering to no one but her familiar, "More than last month. It seems Old Blackroot wants to remind me of greater favors." Her communion finished, the young woman traipsed downstairs, unkempt hair draped around her shoulders like a cowl. Entering the main room, she moved to grab breakfast and caught sight of the notice on the board. Shoveling food down her gullet, she hurried to finish up and sidled over to the board to read the newest notice. It wasn't until she was almost there that she realized a man had moved there at the same time. Barely registering his clothes and look, she simply peered around him to read the notice. "Ten gold," she muttered breathlessly, scanning the notice for details. Or a hidden catch. At her feet, the small compsognathus hid at the hem of her skirt, peering around at everything nearby.

Placeholder

Seiyako of Wort Appearance Young and bright eyed, Seiyako is dressed in what were probably once fairly decent homespun garments suited for a warmer climate. Now threadbare and with several holes around the joints, her loose coverings are more revealing than she would obviously like, given the way she pulls her shawl around herself. Grime and what appears to be water-logged plant matter tangles her hair and shows up on her shoulders like dander from the jungle itself. Mud stains cover nearly everything she owns, whether that is ritual or a facet of hygiene is unclear. Ever watchful, she seems most at home around nature, though the intricacies and technology of the modern nations clearly fascinate her. Tattoos of a rustic, perhaps even tribal design, cover most of her limbs and can be seen through her clothing, white ink on swarthy skin. Her eyes are a deep hazel, mostly brown with flecks of gold and green that seem to change even during a single conversation if one were to pay close enough attention. Attached to her left shoulder and arm, feathers and bangles flip around loosely, creating a bit of noise when she casts spells. Over her left eye, her tattoos are more intricate, a focus for when she uses her hexes. While she has a small pack, the most obvious adornment is a decent sized pot with carved symbols all over it, along with a wooden box which tinkles from glass inside of it. About her feet and under her robe darts a tiny reptile, a bipedal lizard reminiscent of the largest reptiles that inhabit the most savage corners of Delos.  Background Child from a long line of Old God worshippers who practiced (mostly) benevolent witchcraft and pay homage to Oblimo, whom they refer to as the Fenlord, Muckfather, and Old Blackroot. Villages they served were in a swampy area between Ossa and Salamis. They bartered spells and herbal creations for animals, grown food, and occasionally other favors.  One of their own went bad, how or why isn't known by anyone who survived the Inquisition that wiped out the witches and half the villages in the area. It was the Bone Witch, a distant cousin of the Witches of Wort, who took a much darker path. She made a bargain with a devil of the drowned, to raise a an army of the watery dead and wrest control away from the Samurai for some perceived slight of hers. Was her slight worth the death of dozens, to include her own family? Only the Bone Witch and the shogun who insulted her know the truth, and both are now dead. The Inquisition sent its Astors to quell the "rebellion" and they went after the entire family of Wort in order to stamp out any possibility of missing their true target. Once they were certain they had killed the Bone Witch, their short-lived crusade died off. Seiyako has been on the run ever since, selling medicine where she can get away with it, as she is a skilled healer and alchemist. She's been having dreams lately, sparked by her familiar, a tiny dinosaur (compsognathus) that calls itself Utaxa.  The Dream is a flood and mudslide that follows her, almost catching up just before she awakens. It knows her name. She doesn't know where to go, but she is looking for a place to potentially settle down. Unsure if the Astors still hunt for her, Seiyako keeps one eye over her shoulder and tries to hide some of her more savage rites from prying eyes.  

Blackwater   The largest city in the Nightmare Empire, Blackwater, is located at the bottom of the deep Belken fjord that splits the island’s eastern shore. Once ruled by the self-styled pirate king Craethan Morvaen, Blackwater has since fallen into the hands of the pirate warcaster Aiakos and is controlled mainly by the members of the Quay Slayers, the dockside gang he ran with before discovering his arcane talents. Covered by the vines and trees that criss-cross the top of the fjord, the city is named for its lack of sunlight, as well as its lack of moral compass. Despite its unsavory reputation, Blackwater is the most "normal" of the cities on the Scharde Islands. It engages in trade of various natures and legalities and is the most likely in which to find living trade partners.   Dreggsmouth Located on the western shored of the island of Cryx, this is the home of Cryxian military might, where its unliving machines of war are produced and distributed to the lich lords. A rich source of necrotite as well as the docks of Broken Skull Bay which make the great Cryxian Black Ships, Dreggsmouth is the beating industrial heart of Cryx.   Skell Capital of the Cryxian Empire, and home of the Dragonfather himself, Skell is a city blighted by Toruk's presence to the point that the living risk blight be even spending a few hours in the city. To enter the Black Citadel is to court mutation and madness without the protection of undeath. From this city, darkened by ash and swimming in the cancer of dragon blight, Toruk rules his undead nation with a clawed fist.    

For all things party related and need help with PC generation so it doesn't get lost in Discord, it can go here. Ideas, discussions, help-wanted, etc, can all be found here.    Ask and ye shall receive, ye scurvy dogs!

This is the general chat thread. Anything you want to discuss OOC can go here. I can add other topics as needed but for now this'll be the water cooler to chit-chat around.

It's where you've all come to seek your fortunes. Whether this is your first time in these islands, or a return trip from another life, this is the land tainted by the Dragonfather. Steeped in the bloody magic of the Orgoth, settled by the wildest remnants of the Mulgor peoples from western Immoren, and even now populated entirely by pirates and savages, the Scharde Islands are home to the Nightmare Empire itself: Cryx.    There are many ports in these unhallowed lands though, some worse than others. Below is a selection of those places of import in your travels.

What I need: Start a new thread with your character name Character sheet, you can use whatever template you like (I know, nobody's used to BALDR yet, so however you can make it work) How you fit into the group (it's fine to discuss OOC for roles and how PC's know one another) What would help me: Some kind of backstory, doesn't have to be much, just give me a little something to work with. 3 NPC's who made an impact on your PC (e.g. your mentor, your childhood friend, the necromancer who brought you back, the upstanding Cygnaran knight who murdered you, etc) OOC preferences/suggestions on game opportunities (side quests, loot, adventuring company, etc)

This is what we're running with for now. 27 point buy Starting Level 2 Extra feat at level 1 Essence is on top of race to include attribute bonuses All Requiem Races are approved automatically. Anything else, please ask.  Background doesn´t give the +1 to attributes, but still grants other bonuses and any combat relevant powers. ASI are changed: You gain +1 to an attribute and can select a single feat rather than RAW Half hit dice +1 HP for each level after level 1 (So a mage with d6 hit dice gets 3+1=4 hp each level, a d10 fighter gets 5+1=6 hp each level) +con bonus. Allowed books: PHB, Requiem, Beyond the Borderlands, Nightmare Empire, and most WotC books are negotiable. I'll allow the PrivateerPress DLC on a case-by-case basis. Preferred: PHB, Requiem, Nightmare Empire. If you can say "It fits in Cryx" without having to work hard for a reason, then likely it's fine. Disallowed: 3rd party material and UA.

Okay tweaked the background to be quite a bit less lone-wolf. I didn't like how it came off before--not sure it's quite where I want it yet, but it's a few steps in the right direction.   Rather than be a caricature of a trench coat, I think I'll have him go a lot further down the Vice rabbit hole.