Shadows of the Sword Coast (Forgotten Realms, DnD 3.5)

[Blinkin]

Reminder, the current party was contracted to do a job that has been pretty much done and is expecting a sizable paycheck soon.

[Zaer Darkwail]

*aplauds the picture* 

A most excelent choice, paladin!

I double the notion :).

[Countdown0]

Reminder, the current party was contracted to do a job that has been pretty much done and is expecting a sizable paycheck soon.

Well... yeah, but it sounds like a good portion of the party will have been there for only part of it or none at all.

[Blinkin]

Hmmm... lets see...Sim missed the big fight on the rooftop with a vampire, and the chase through the sewers... not all that much.
Serge missed the chase through the sewers... not much
Val missed the sewers

So, none of the existing characters missed much. Once everyone disappeared, the game pretty much ground to a hault. Adrian had a bit more than everyone else because he decided to jump the gun and leave everyone else in the dust, but he may of learned his lesson. ;)

As for the new characters, It's up to our returned DM as to what to do about them, but things really do seem almost wrapped up on  this mission. At most, the party has to track down a vampire in her coffin and beat a necromancer, easy for our red wizard all by himself, much less the rest of us. And Cal may decide to call it done to get everyone in at the same place.

[Countdown0]

Fair enough.

Vampire in her coffin... can we not just nail her coffin shut, carry it outside, wait for the sun to come up and then break it open?

[Blinkin]

Well... there is that little issue with the fact that Adrian lost her and there may be a few more wraith guards to deal with to nail her in the coffin, she's in gas form, so I'm not sure nailing her in actualy works... if we could get some pitch, it may work... but then, we just burn her in the coffin instead of nailing her into it. ;)

[Ghostwheel]

Dale, Human Cloistered Cleric / Crusader

Background

Orphan. There are many such in the realms, and they range from leading the most noble, to the most ignomious of lives. This tale ends at neither extreme of those spectrums--though that is later, far later than this introduction goes. For this table begins almost thirty years ago on a stormy eve when a babe was left, still swaddled in heavy cloths to keep the rain off of it, upon the steps of an austere monastery. The monastery had been built to no god, but to the paragons of virtue, the Inevitables who protected the multiverse from the depredations of those who would steal time or rend space asunder to allow dark beings in, ones such as the world had not known since before reality had been created and the walls of creation had been put in place.

The cries of the babe awoke the monks from their slumber, and they stumbled outside to bring in the shivering child. "Dale", they called him, as many orphans were called in the Dalelands, and guided him to grow as one of their own. Days of learning passed, for they were not a monastery for martial arts, as dotted the Realms, but of learning. While he was not the most adept of students, Dale did his best and learned of various things, things from the wide outside world. And yes, after his lessons, he was often given leave to join the children of the nearby village at play, the one place he excelled as he grew up to be bigger and stronger than most boys his age.

Years passed, and one day the tranquility of study day in and day out was broken by an attack. Strange things opened portals in the air and slithered through. Slime-ridden tentacles and amorphous shapes flooded the air, strange creatures that seemed to exist in more than the four dimensions most beings existed in. The few monks who were unable to escape to the monastery were cut down almost immediately, and the creatures circled it, attempting to get inside at some secret the monks held, but the wards held--though not for long. Time after time the creatures banged at the walls and doors, causing crackles of light and sound to appear which pushed them back, yet each time the light appeared to grow dimmer.

And then salvation appeared--another portal pierced the air, and out of it came a rider in shining armor atop a horse. Glaive shining, he slew one monster after another, and despite being wounded terribly in the process, he succeeded in driving them back before fainting atop his horse. The monks were quick to come to the aid of their rescuer, and set about cleansing the numerous wounds that adorned his body and dressing them with poultices made to all the body to heal more quickly. Dale was enamored with the stranger, with how he had fought so valiantly and sacrificed himself for Dale himself, as well as the monks.

When the stranger came to, Dale begged him to teach him of what it meant to be a knight. The monks, sensing that Dale's time with them was coming to an end, gave their blessing, and thus Dale began to learn the meaning of the sword, spear, chain, and mace. The man, Harllin his name, took the time to teach Dale of swordcraft and some of the sorcery which he used, though Dale had little talent for the latter. Still, the day came when they clasped hands, Dale said goodbye to the monks, and rode to find his destiny.

Divine Healing

When using his abilities to heal, it appears almost as though time was regressing on a wound, becoming whole not because the wound is healing, but as though it had never actually been afflicted.

Deities

While Dale doesn't worship any specific deity to the exclusion of others, he certainly offers them thanks and calls on them in times of trouble, depending on the situation. A number of Good and Lawful deities would be happy to welcome Dale into their fold... he just hasn't really chosen one yet.

Sexuality

Despite being far from unattractive, the only sorts of relationships Dale has had are of the one-night variety. He's heterosexual, and tends to prefer slimmer girl, which usually lends itself to elves.

Moral Shortcomings

While Dale is for the most part a stand-up individual, he does tend to see the world in black-and-white and extreme dichotomies which can lead him to being harsh or even cruel.

[Zaer Darkwail]

I cannot see your sheet Ghosthweel. Anyways as point of note in forgotten realms there is strong deity presence and overall most divine magic works through deities.

From healing description you may have interest perhaps on Amaunator? Using Heretic of the Faith to able enter Initiate of Amaunator.

Just friendly char build suggestions :).

[TheGlyphstone]

While I'm waiting for Calrond to thumb up/down my background....we're allowed one Trait, but the only Traits I know of are from Pathfinder. Is there a 3.5 Trait system, or is that a backport from PF?

[Zaer Darkwail]

Calrond may had meant these;

http://www.d20srd.org/srd/variant/buildingCharacters/characterTraits.htm

[TheGlyphstone]

Ah-hah. Thanks.

[Muse]

I cannot see your sheet Ghosthweel. Anyways as point of note in forgotten realms there is strong deity presence and overall most divine magic works through deities.

Except that Aumnatar's been dead for 5,000 years.  ^_^;; 

[Zaer Darkwail]

Except that Aumnatar's been dead for 5,000 years.  ^_^;;

Depends on point of view is he dead or 'coma' or 'waiting certain phase' as the heretic of faith feat is for those questionable theories (the three sun heresies which talk that one god has three aspects and another heresy declaring that Amaunathor will return).

[TheGlyphstone]

Or, as suggested by WoTC, he has become Amon, The Void Behind The Altar. :D

[Zaer Darkwail]

Or, as suggested by WoTC, he has become Amon, The Void Behind The Altar. :D

Why it makes it hilarious that if someone worships Amaunathor via Heretic of the Faith and parties with binder and he starts lecture about Amaunathor and then binder summons and binds Amon and tells the myth of it's origins and says; "Your god is my bitch now."

[TheGlyphstone]

Why it makes it hilarious that if someone worships Amaunathor via Heretic of the Faith and parties with binder and he starts lecture about Amaunathor and then binder summons and binds Amon and tells the myth of it's origins and says; "Your god is my bitch now."

Probably still better than binding Tenebrous in front of Orcus.

[Zaer Darkwail]

Probably still better than binding Tenebrous in front of Orcus.

Ever successfully pulled that one yet :P.

[TheGlyphstone]

Ever successfully pulled that one yet :P.

Doing anything in front of Orcus...or doing anything anywhere near Orcus, for that matter, is generally A Bad Plan. :D

[Nicolae]

@Ghostwheel: Zaer is right about divine spells needing the support of a god in the Forgotten Realms. One exception to that is the Church of the Triad.

The Triad consists of the good-aligned deities Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm.
They are a particularly powerful alliance that was one of the major forces behind the founding of the Triadic church, and their splinter group, the Triadic Knights. Several crusades were launched over the course of history in their name.

This sound like the closest thing the Forgotten Realms has to what you're describing. In this case, your character's patron deity would be "The Triad", and he'd serve them as sort of a mini-pantheon rather than picking any one of them to serve above others (even though Tyr is the only Greater Deity among them, but mortals don't know much about the relative power levels among the deities).

@Glyphstone: The background you gave me works for me!

[Zaer Darkwail]

Yeah, Triad is also very fine choice for generic cleric who is lawful good and any lawful good deity warmly welcome him. Triad means you give respects to three deities or general ideology plus teachings of the Triad (while not singly devote any of the three although most members come from one three individual churches).

Also for Crusader martial adept it fits :).

[TheGlyphstone]

@Ghostwheel: Zaer is right about divine spells needing the support of a god in the Forgotten Realms. One exception to that is the Church of the Triad. This sound like the closest thing the Forgotten Realms has to what you're describing. In this case, your character's patron deity would be "The Triad", and he'd serve them as sort of a mini-pantheon rather than picking any one of them to serve above others (even though Tyr is the only Greater Deity among them, but mortals don't know much about the relative power levels among the deities).

@Glyphstone: The background you gave me works for me!

Awesome. I'll get to work on the gooey crunchy bits and the other info.

[TheGlyphstone]

Aldros Thul
LN Human Male Binder 9

Condition Summary

HP: 67/67    AC 15(17), Touch 10(12), Flat-Footed 15(17)
Initiative: +4(+6)
Equipped Weapon: +1 Morningstar (+13/+8, 1d8+4/x2 B/P)
Fort +11, Ref +5(+7), Will +7 (Immune to Fear, Slippery Mind)
Active Vestiges
(No Sign, Good Pact): Balam
-Balam's Cunning (0 rounds to recharge)
-Icy Glare (Inactive, 30ft. range, 2d6 Cold, DC20 Will Negates)
-Prescience (+2 to Reflex, Initiative, AC)
-Weapon Finesse
No Sign, Good Pact): Tenebrous
-Rebuke Undead (8 uses/day) (0 rounds to recharge)
-Deeper Darkness
-See In Darkness
-Touch of the Void (0 rounds to recharge)
-Vessel of Emptiness (1/day)
(No Sign, Good Pact): Geryon
-Acidic Gaze (Inactive, 30ft. range, 2d6 Acid, DC20 Will Negates)
-All-Round Vision (Inactive)
-See In Darkness (Inactive)
-Swift Flight (0 rounds to recharge)

Current Pact Augmentation (2):
+1 Insight to Attack Rolls
+1 Insight To Attack Rolls

Background

My name is Aldros Thal. I am a binder.
This is the seventh of my journals. If you possess one of the previous six, please hide it away somewhere safe for another to find; this journal contains all written in previous books, and that lesser knowledge might someday spur someone else on their search. If you possess a journal I have not yet written, please return this book to where you found it, and leave it for someone still trailing your footsteps.
Guard this tome well, while it remains in your keeping. My notes on each of the vestiges I have sealed pacts with are contained within, but the knowledge inside may be more dangerous than the rituals. There are many who would seek to kill me, or worse, for I traffic with and cleave to beings that sit beyond life and death. Many priests and clerics find such truths to be unpalatable blasphemy, for nothing can exist that is not within the purview of the gods. Many wizards and would-be rulers seek immortality, and might believe it reachable by means of pact magic. A very rare few, the greatest of fools, are convinced vestigehood itself is a goal worth pursuing. Heroes would bend the powers of the ones beyond to do good. Villains would twist them for evil. The vestiges do not care about these things; they are isolated, alone. They are beyond morality, for morality is a shackle of an existence they have lost. Be you aspiring champion of Light or merciless lord of Darkness, you may set yourself to mastering the arts found within. You may succeed, but never may you make the mistake of believing you are master of the entities who take up residence within your soul. The gods cannot command a vestige beyond what its pacts allow, think not so highly of yourself and judge that you can.

I was not always what I am. Long ago, I was a boy, in distant Thay. My parents were freemen - peasants, but free all the same, living a simple but comfortable existence beneath the notice of the Red Wizards. I was not so lucky - a seed of arcane potential lay within my body, and the minions of the zulkirs detected that seed in one of their periodic searches. Taken from my family, I was entrusted to the harsh care and tutelage of a full Wizard, the conjurer Ivros Odesseiron, and set to work learning how to harness the spark I carried. We both suffered as a result - him in frustration at the seemly inept pupil he had been assigned, and me in pain when he took that frustration out on me for my failures. I was no great intellect; literate, but only just, and even the most basic of arcane formulae flowed through my grasp like grains of sand. Often I retired to my tiny cell hungry, nursing small burns or shocks, and I knew it was only a matter of time before Ivros grew tired of me and threw me out - or worse, sold me as a slave to recoup the investment on my failed apprenticeship.

But one of my duties, when I was not stumbling over basic cantrips, was cleaning. Ivros lived in a tower, one he had taken from a rival Wizard in arcane combat, and the previous owner had been a hoarder. Rooms were packed with trinkets, antiquities, and books; frequently magical, more frequently worthless junk. With effort, I could see arcane auras, and so I spent long days sorting through the storerooms in search of enchanted items Ivros could use or sell, and tomes of arcane lore he would find interesting. It was in one of those rooms that I found it. An ancient libram, centuries old, and unlabeled save for a strange sigil on the cover. It drew me like nothing ever had, and for the first time in my life, I disobeyed my master by hiding the book instead of bringing it for his perusal. My scraps of free time were spent in that storeroom, laboriously translating it line by line from the lost tongue of Nar to Mulhorandi. Slowly, it revealed to me secrets of a lost art of conjuration - rituals capable of contacting otherworldly beings beyond the planes, calling them to me, and taking their power for my own. This was a magic outside even Ivros's understanding, and so I did not share it. I suffered by day, and studied by night, until at last I thought myself ready to conduct a binding. Amon came at my call, and for a share of my place in the world, gave me his gifts for a day. But his power was too much for my flesh, and his sign was unmistakable; upon rising, Ivros would know I had conducted magic without his permission, and it would likely be my life in payment. So I fled, armed only with my tome  and the vestige within me.

I feared pursuit, but none came - like Ivros was simply glad to be rid of my presence and irritating lack of proficiency, and he had never known of the libram that I stole. But I could not be certain this would be true forever, and all the same Thay was no longer safe for me and my new skills. I forged west, through Thesk, and took service on a ship plying the trade routes of the Sea of Fallen Stars - the captain was suspicious, but Naberius's silvered tongue convinced him otherwise, and I pulled my weight as a seaman enough that an occasional quirk of behavior was ignored.

I left the sea in Cormyr, and from there traveled far and wide. Often, the signs of my partners roused ignorant villagers or suspicious guards to violence. Very rarely, someone saw them for what they were, and my fragmented knowledge grew just a bit as two outcasts bonded to outcasts exchanged tidbits of lore before going our separate ways. Where possible, I passed myself off as a sorcerer, finding odd jobs and work to sustain myself in my journeys. Once, I saw notice of a band of explorers planning an expedition to Narfell itself, at the behest of a great druid trying to cleanse cursed ruins of their corruption. That journey taught me much, both in self-sufficiency and when to rely on others, including my introduction to the faith of the elven god Fenmarel Mestarine, patron of outcasts and pariahs, by way of his priestess Hacanthra. A wild elf, she lived up to the name of her race, but saw steel beneath my mask and a kindred spirit of loneliness in a hostile world. Most nights together were spent in pursuits more primal than religion, yet we talked as well, and I saw value in taking a patron dedicated to those no one else would welcome. Whether he welcomes my devotion I have never been sure, but nor have I ever seen a sign of outright rejection.

Our trip to Narfell and its demon-tainted catacombs ended ultimately in failure. Of five, three of us returned - my first love one of the two lost forever. I, though, left those dark lands with a prize, and a mission. From a tome bound in human flesh, I had found the sigils of Geryon, and from a tattered scroll, only a name - Chupoclops. A mighty vestige, predator of the gods themselves in ages lost to time. Its sigil was incomplete, but more complex than any I had ever beheld before, and I shall not rest until I find the portions missing and seal the Harbinger of Forever to my soul.

I write here in Waterdeep, comfortably alone amidst a crowd in a tavern. The City of Splendors is a new place to me, but surely within its walls there will be a clue leading towards a pact I have not acquired, perhaps even the Harbinger itself. Somewhere in the city, I have heard of a safe house for binders, guarded by the Knights of Agares. If anyone knows where pact lore can be found, it will be a Knight of the Sacred Seal - but finding them will be challenge indeed.

Deities

Aldros has, somewhat ironically, chosen the elven god of outcasts Fenmaril Mestarine as his patron. He rarely offers a prayer, or expects the notoriously sullen and grouchy deity to answer such from a human worshipper, but the Lone Wolf's worshippers are the closest he is likely to find to kindred spirits.

Sexual Preferences

Aldros is quite striking in a vaguely unnerving way, and extremely charming when he sets his mind (or Naberius's Silver Tongue) to the task, but for all his attractiveness his romantic liaisons are few and far between. Carrying a pair of utterly alien personalities in his head makes for distracted lovemaking at best, even when a solid pact prevents them from actively influencing his behavior. Free of any vestigial influence, he's most drawn to women whose bodies show they can take care of themselves - healthy and lithe or well-muscled, and preferably of similar size to himself.

[Muse]

Does anyone have a link to the old game handy?  I'm not sure where I put Serge...

[Nicolae]

https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=188971.450

[TheGlyphstone]

And secret info dispatched to Calrond, so I think I'm all set. Not sure when recruitment will close, but I'll keep hanging around to chat and hope I've earned a slot.