Legends of Deliverance (Solo)

Old Mar 11 '10, 9:58pm
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Legends of Deliverance (Solo)

Legends of Deliverance - Forum
Dungeons & Dragons 3.5e
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"When the lords of tyranny rise and the land is wrought in fire and death, a great hero shall emerge from the people, with the old gods behind him, to deliver the innocent unto safety and goodness.

Such was the important part of a dreadfully long and boring prophecy, made by the oracle Shas'rianna of Eventhorp. This premonition filled the hearts of the people with hope, but the great wizards of the Valley of Ivory went pale with fear, and it is said that the priests of the temple at Achtalamun wept and prayed for a full week as word of the prophecy reached their ears. As all men of any meaningful education are aware, less than one in a thousand prophecies come true, as the knowledge of what may come to pass makes it very easy to avoid a possible future. Of course, the evils of the world smirked smugly in their dark (say the bards, though most of them actually had pleasant and well-lit) lairs, and began making preparations so that they, by the time they rose up, would be able to find and kill this great hero. They were in no hurry, after all.

However, the evils screwed up bad in letting their confidence get the best of them. The old gods, a pantheon of those deities whose powers had lasted the longest, too heard of this prophecy, and a god does not get to become old enough to be known as an old god unless he is a crafty devil (if you'll forgive the term). Without waiting for the evils to rise up, they used their powers preemptively and brought into being the Deliverer, a hero of strength so vast that only a half-god could hope to match his power. Taking his enemies completely by surprise, the Deliverer assaulted the lords of evil long before their preparations were complete, and slaughtered them all in a most brutal and bloodthirsty fashion, cheered on vigorously by the old gods themselves. When at last the heads of all lords of evil were dropped into the sacrificial font in the great temple at Achtalamun, the Deliverer himself was allowed to keep his power, and the gods left him to do whatever he wished for as long as he lived. Those were interesting years, when the champion roamed as he would, performing deeds of greatness. As with all great men, his enemies called him a tyrant and so forth, and I too am certain that he used his power and freedom in many deeds of questionable morality (you ladies know what I'm talking about), but we have to agree that someone who killed all those big honking bad guys deserves us cutting him some slack.

So, as our hero finally died, after keeping the element of evil down for a lifetime, his power was passed on to another heroic individual, chosen by the gods once again. This one followed the tradition of the Deliverer, as did the one after him, and the one after him. Two-hundred and seventy-eight Deliverers later, rose the last of the line, the one you know as Amphoron, who died over three hundred years ago at the cave of Engrazhizzimalion, and whose bones are strung up outside the royal palace. He was a great man too, says the legends, and he died atop a mound of bodies of king Eldevan's assassins. It is he, ladies and gentlemen, the most glorious Deliverer Amphoron Gryphonheart of the Great Blade, that tonight's show is about..."

-Duergaquin the Dimwit, bard, jester and whatever else you ask of him

-- -- --- -- --

The world of Jorhal is a beautiful place - all green dales and forests, with cute little hamlets dotting the countryside and great glistening mountains line the horizon. The underworld's gentle embrace holds an untold wealth of gems and hidden treasures, and monstrous undead stalk forgotten graveyards in long-lost towns swallowed by the woodlands. Despite all her beauty, however, Jorhal is not a good place. Legend speaks of a great hero called the Deliverer, whose life's work it was to annihilate all evil. The Deliverer was judge, jury and executioner all in one, and all evil was annihilated, to the point where men with evil in their hearts dared not so much as wiggle a finger the wrong way. But, during this age of absolute good - a resistance grew. During the age of Deliverer Amphoron, the elf High King Eldevan won a great victory for goodness when he reconciled the High Elves of Achtalamun and the savages of Withlamor with the evil Drow of the Underdark. Of course, his victory was not anything good at all, and it brought about the end of the legend of the Deliverer.

It has been three hundred years since the death of the last Deliverer and the complete victory of king Eldevan. Cruelty, sadism, sacrifices and evil worship have filled this world to the brim with negative energy. Those in charge drink deep from this wellspring of power, and everyone else suffers to maintain it. Those who resist are viciously martyred, because the people's hatred only makes their oppressors stronger.

Boy, they sure could use another Deliverer right now.

-- -- --- -- --

This is a solo game. Yes. Solo.

Before we begin, I really want to recommend reading the stuff at the bottom - you know, the game description, because I'm pretty sure you'll need to have read it to make any sense of what's actually going on.

In Short:
You will be the next Deliverer. Well, you could also die, but that's just how it is. You will be the lonely rebel, standing up against the man in a vain attempt at fighting his evil influence. You will start out weak, though the whole 'there's a pantheon of gods sponsoring you' thing should hopefully help even things out.

Character Creation Rules:
You start out as a level one-to-five (yes, you can chose a level from one to five) Expert or Aristocrat, or possibly a Commoner... Actually, a Warrior might be justifiable as well, if you try really hard (yes, I can hear the sound of everyone weeping, but what you start out as and what you play as will be different things, I assure you. Having a sheet is still important, however, for reasons you will become aware of later). No, you cannot start as a [whatever class you were planning on asking for].

A level one character is considered a novice, an apprentice, or similar. Level two is equal to a fully trained but inexperienced professional. Level three is random dude on street, level four is veteran, and level five is a true pro. Level six is world-class, and everything above that is varying degrees of superhuman.

You may choose your own skills and feats. There will be no flaws or traits.

Stats are 6m3d6 (more sounds of weeping, more assurances)

Alignment: Lawful, Chaotic and Neutral are the only relevant alignments. Good and Evil, while important and in existence, don't define people's base personalities in this game. As such, evil and good cannot be detected.

Race: Anything with an LA of +0 - I'm even open to homebrew, so long as it is part of an interesting story.

Sources: ToB, ToM, Psionics and Incarnum will not be part of this game. Otherwise, the field is pretty open. Ask, and ye shall most likely receive.

I want to see length and quality in these. You have all the creative freedom you want in creating your character's town, village, city, country or whatever you like, and place it as close to or as far from the dragon's cave as you want. Old friends and foes, places visited and things learned, it will all be canonized if you're chosen. The one requirement you have to fulfill is that your character has to be young, or at least have a lot of time left to live. Of course, your character also has to be opposed to and/or oppressed by king Eldevan, or there would be little point to the game itself.

A lot of focus has to lie on your character's personality and experiences, though they will most likely be low on "adventures". You don't really have a lot of stats to work with when constructing your little hero dude (or dudette), so the emphasis is on what you can make out of what you have. Don't worry about being overly lengthy, or about any piece of information being excessive. I'll happily read pages' worth of a good application. Also, don't worry about what I'll like and not - if you don't model for advantage (by, say, giving your character knowledge of the location of mounds of hidden treasure, or make it super grimdark emo-emo angst, you'll be fine.

The Game:
This is not an optimization game in the least. Trust me when I say that the benefits of being higher level and those of being lower are very, very even - of course, I'll not tell you what those are.

Your ability to customize your character will be rather limited, and this world is mostly quite low-powered, so if you like telling reality to sit down and shut up, I'm afraid this isn't the game for you.

Your character's power will mean relatively little in the grand scheme of things, since you will never survive on your own. Likewise, your character's charisma will not be critical to her success either, and you should feel very much free to create whatever kind of character you can make the best story out of.

Last but not least, there's a possible semi-slot available in this game. Naturally, I won't reveal its exact nature here, but I'll need every application to include whether you're interested in playing a supporting role in the game, and whether you would like someone to play a supportive roll if you get picked.

Right. That is all. Bring in the questions!

Game Description:

Once upon a
Since the beginning of t
Dear diary

Alright, you know what - I'm not a bard, and I refuse to pretend to be. I have no gift with words (or is that 'of words', I never could remember) and no patience for writing, so before I've broken every quill in camp, I'm just going to settle for recording events clearly and plainly. With any luck, Mr. Big and Mighty Hero will be smart enough to pick up a proper scribe somewhere along the way and leave me to do the job I do best.

This document, though lacking in style and flair and competent authors, is in fact volume the one-hundredth and fifty-seventh of the Legend of the Deliverer, he who is chosen, he who shall bring salvation all those other things. Think me not irreverent, dear reader, for I owe much to the Deliverer, and he is a great hero indeed, to have come this far. All I mean is that if you've have read this far, you should already know all you need about who he is. If you've have never read of the Deliverer's journeys before, I urge you to begin with volume one. By the time the Deliverer's quest is over and his story is available to the public, volume one should be available in the libraries of most larger cities.

- - - - - -

Autumn 78, 3012
The Deliverer and his troupe returned triumphant from their battle with the purple dragon Engrazhizzimalion. I was in the battle myself, of course, so I can vouch for the accuracy of its description in the last volume. Anyway, the troupe's bard was lost in the fight - split in two by the dragon's claws, we can only hope that his death was quick and painless. Many of the Deliverer's companions were wounded, a few mortally so, though our healers were able to stave off death yet again (other than the bard's, I guess) and so we were able to get out of that one with no casualties other than my predecessor (the dead bard wrote the other one-hundred and fifty-six volumes, in case that wasn't clear). The dragon's head was dragged out of its cave and mounted atop the entrance, and the entire body's worth of scales was claimed by the hero. I guess he's going to make it into a suit of armour, but I suppose that will be a tale for another day (and hopefully, another scribe). Right now, it's time to rest. Finally. Today was otherwise another day spent marching along the road, though the Deliverer looked particularly heroic in doing so (I guess? I've been ordered to include all the Deliverer's travails, no matter how insignificant, and specifically journeys like this... I suppose next time I shall have to compose an ode to his breakfast eating). The road to Dimlavir is long and boring, and as it seems not even the dark lord (why do they call him 'dark', anyway? The man has alabaster skin and dresses in gold. By the gods, dark is the last thing I'd call him) would send his assassins to wither away in this road's drudgery. Ah, well.

These are the words written on the crumpled piece of paper you took from the arrow-filled corpse outside Engrazhizzimalion's Lair. You stand among the wind-swept trenches of Engrazh's Canyon, outside the lair of the great wyrm herself. You came out here out of sheer curiosity, on a borrowed horse and with only a few days' worth of provisions, because you wanted to behold the scene of this legend yourself. Despite the warnings, the superstitious and fearful stories, and the very king's edict, you ventured out there because you had to see that place of death, to see how such a great hero could have fallen. The hero himself is nowhere to be found, of course - his body has long since been strung up, paraded in front of the royal palace - but the bones of his friends still lie here. They lie with their faces in their plates and bowls, murdered during supper much like any murder victim you've ever known - an arrow in the head kills a legend just as well as a commoner it would seem. Else, as many of the larger corpses testify, a dozen arrows in the head will do what one alone cannot. There is no trace of any mighty struggle.

There is barely time to contemplate the writing on the paper, however, before you notice something unusual. It was barely noon by the time you reached Engrazh's Canyon - you could've sworn it - but the shadows suddenly seem to grow longer. Stopping to listen, you hear the faint clack-clack-clack of claws on stone, and you suddenly come to think that maybe the stories of this place weren't all superstition after all. Frozen with sudden, unnatural fear, you can only stand in place, paralyzed as the clawed steps close in from behind. Right as the hot breath of... something much larger than you, sweeps down your neck, a voice in your head cries out, run!

With a speed you didn't think possible, you fly over the field of bones and into the cave of Engrazhizzimalion, since it was the only place to run too. A spurt brings you safely through beneath the head of the great purple dragon as you run toward certain death and entrapment in the cave, but through some unknown grace the skull that has hung safely on its mount for hundreds of years, crashes down behind you. The crash is deafening, and leaves only silence and darkness after it. Fumbling your way across the barely lit stone floor, there really is only one way to go. And the voice is still there - beckoning, calling.

Last edited by Maxwell; Mar 15 '10 at 3:00pm..
Ok wow, that sounds amazing! right up my street! Will get a detaild application to you asap. Love creativity and the idea just holds so much potential.. I'm on to it now. More than interested.

Would you consider someone relatively new to the 3.5 system? Can your hero be female or is it geared/intended more for a male in your world?

Thank you. I'll be waiting.

To everyone else, this is definitely not first come, first served. I'd really like to see a few good profiles.

Syndl: Absolutely, to both your questions. Writing is more important than rules know-how, and a female character works perfectly well.

Also, do you need the character sheet completed for the application? Or would you prefer a detailed description first and then hash out the sheet later (my preference )?

Name: Bree Carrolan
Alignment: Chaotic
Race: Human

Description: Bree's tangle of brown curls is almost always tied in knots, despite her best efforts at taming them into place. She keeps it pulled back with a thick leather thong. Hazel eyes, a brilliant mix of blue, green and brown, round out her cherub like features. Bree is of average height and build. Her muscles are lean with years of hard work in the field and training with the blade. Her caramel skin tone is proof enough of the hours spent laboring under the sun. It is an attractive complement to her dark hair and glittering eyes.

Bree's small, round face shines brightly when she smiles. And it does so often among friends. Though she's faced adversity most of her life, her heart and soul are as pure and good as any. Her wit is quick and as sharp as her tongue, but it is her tinkling laugh and sparkling eyes that truly show her mirth. Despite her love of life, Bree works hard and is always true to her word. She doesn't mince words when the time calls for it and his level headed enough to know her place in a group.

History: Bree's mother died when Bree was a young girl. It happened on a dark, cold night when a travelling stranger begged a hot meal and a warm place to eat. Being a generous family, Bree's mother and father welcomed the man into their home. They gave the man all he could eat and a cot in a guest room of their small house. But, the man had other designs and when the family went to sleep, he made his move. It had been his intention to slit all their throats. In the end, he hadn't counted of her father being such a light sleeper. The stranger managed a single slash with the knife, before her father disarmed him.

Frightened that his daughter would someday face a cruel world, he taught Bree to take up arms when it was necessary. But only after mercy and a quick wit wouldn't suffice. His own skills were meager at best, but Bree learned quickly. She could hold her own in a fist fight, quick and light on her feet as she was. Yet, the feel of cold, hard steel was far more comforting to her than a pair of bare fists. She learned to talk herself out of most things and when to run away when the cards were stacked against her. "Leave and live to face them again on your terms. Not their's," her father would warn.

When her father finally died of consumption, a wasting away of the body and mind, Bree was forced to sell the family farm in order to settle their debts. It broke her heart to sign the papers, but it had been her last resort. She hefted a pack on her shoulder and set out to explore the world.

Times were lean and the people she met along the road were even tougher. She was a pretty face in a hungry crowd of unscrupulous men. She learned to wear ill-fitting clothes to hide her shape when travelling and never to venture out at night. Eventually, she came across a small hamlet where she could find work serving tables in a small boarding house. It paid horribly, but she had a warm place to sleep and food to eat.

The travelers that came through the small village were men looking to work in one the areas many mines. They were a rough sort, used to having their demands met or pummeling it out of the poor sod that tried to resist. There were never more than one or two coming through at a time and Bree was able to thwart most of their advances. But when a trio popped in and thought to have a bit of fun, she found she was outmatched. Fortunately, they left her alive. Barely.

When she had healed enough to stand and walk on her own, Bree decided it was time to leave. But where was she to go? The road was arguably more dangerous and here she knew people. She had food and a bed. And was it really any better elsewhere in the world? That was when Bree heard a report that the same three men had attacked another woman in a nearby village. This time they'd added a child to their list of victims.

Unable to stomach the thought of yet one more helpless woman or child underneath the hands of such scum, Bree started to make a plan. In less than three weeks, the men had been dispatched. Thus started a young girl's path to protecting the weak.

Name: Roo(Rupert) Avery
Alignment: Lawful
Race: Grey Elf

Let me know what you think! Any feedback is good and I just think your plot holds so much potential for an 'expert' such as Roo. Tell me if you want anything changed or worked on. I can have a character sheet sorted out aswell very quickly. I think it would be a great roleplay aspect to have Rupert plunged into the adventuring, Deliverer, environment. An 'unlikely Hero' sort of scenario where he uses his brains rather than brawn to overcome his adversaries that circumstances force him against. Let me know either way, Thanks Boss.

Syndl: Looks like it's coming along nicely. I'm waiting to read the rest.

LozzerKP: Impressively well-written, but what's up with the netspeak up there in the first paragraph? I'm surprised to see stuff like 'ur' and 'm8' in a piece like this. :P

First of all, I like it. Being a grey elf is perfectly acceptable, since not even elves are guaranteed a decent living in this world. But then there's the part about Crydee, which seems to me to be a far more happy town than circumstances will allow - most ruling bodies are purposely cruel to their subjects in order to further the influence of negative energy. Of course, then again, you did exclusively mention King's Road, which could very well be the one wealthy, pleasant street in the city. The king appreciates good beasts of war, and being an elf (and a grey elf -> high elf) makes it even more plausible. I don't know if this is what you were thinking, but I'm putting it forth as a possibility. You're welcome to make other suggestions.

I can totally picture his reaction, though.
Rupert: "People are suffering. Oh well, not much I can do about it".
Gods: "You can do something about it now".
Rupert: "...Piss. Fine".

Originally Posted by Maxwell View Post

LozzerKP: Impressively well-written, but what's up with the netspeak up there in the first paragraph? I'm surprised to see stuff like 'ur' and 'm8' in a piece like this. :P

First of all, I like it. Being a grey elf is perfectly acceptable, since not even elves are guaranteed a decent living in this world. But then there's the part about Crydee, which seems to me to be a far more happy town than circumstances will allow - most ruling bodies are purposely cruel to their subjects in order to further the influence of negative energy. Of course, then again, you did exclusively mention King's Road, which could very well be the one wealthy, pleasant street in the city. The king appreciates good beasts of war, and being an elf (and a grey elf -> high elf) makes it even more plausible. I don't know if this is what you were thinking, but I'm putting it forth as a possibility. You're welcome to make other suggestions.

I can totally picture his reaction, though.
Rupert: "People are suffering. Oh well, not much I can do about it".
Gods: "You can do something about it now".
Rupert: "...Piss. Fine".
Firstly, thank you for the feedback! You read it carefully and dilligently which is a great assurance because I took time to try and delve into the character.
Secondly I'm appauled at my use of 'net speak' *hangs head in shame*, the only thing I can say is that I was trying to really write in colloquial dialect.. but it's a poor excuse at best. Situation rectified (I hope). And Yes, that was the general way I was thinking. King's Road was mentioned specifically to highlight the affluence of this part of town in stark contrast to the typical districts of the 'period'. It also took time and no small amount of effort to achieve what Roo accomplished; time enough to be beyond the capabilities of short-lived humans! I would also imagine, yes, that the King greatly appreciates a trainer whom he can partially exploit for powerful beasts of war, and those which he can exhibit as part of a 'collection' as a show of power and the supremacy of his kingdom!?

Haha, and the last three lines made me laugh! Exactly what I was trying to get towards. Reluctant but very capably in his own right. Extremely able to use his head but could really do without getting mauled by a brutish Barbarian... It would ruin morning tea with Miranda, afterall!
Thx for the feedback. Keep letting me know what I can do, Character sheet ect.


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