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Lost on the Planes (Recruitment Thread)

Started by SheerFantasia, July 04, 2014, 08:08:59 AM

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Phaia

*flys around casting hexs and giggling wildly [cackle]*

Phaia

Belisuavious


CarnivalOfTheGoat

#77
Paused to get my head out of numbers and tables due to trying to work on inventory and such and scribbled a little.



Equipment List (too long for Myth-Weavers)












































































Worn:Cost:Weight:
Mithral Chain Shirt +121006
MW Darkwood Buckler1901
Dagger20.5
Dagger, Cold Iron40.5
Wrist sheath, spring loaded50.5
Propitious Pouch (Carries up to 20#, 2 cu. ft.)5001
Bag of Holding, Minor (Carries up to 50#, 5 cu. ft.)10003
MW Scimitar, Alchemical Silver4052
Headband of Vast Intelligence +2 (Dungeoneering)40000.25
Bracers of Falcon's Aim40000.25
Total Weight:15
Inside Propitious Pouch:
Cased Bolts (20)42
Cased Bolts, Cold Iron tipped (10)41
Cased Bolts, Alchemical Silver tipped (10)61
Tanglefoot Bolts (2)400.2
Wand of Cure Light Wounds (25/50)375-
Potion of Good Hope1050-
Alchemy Crafting Kit255
Glue Paper (10)0.1-
Glass Cutter5-
Alchemist’s Fire201
Unstable Accelerant (2)501
Universal Solvent100-
Oil, Quick Freeze501
Razor Ice Powder501
Burst Jar352
Acid Flask101
Antitoxin (2)100-
Ghast Retch501
Smokestick200.5
Flint & Steel (1g)1-
Chalk x10 (0.1)0.1-
Marbles0.12
Total Weight:19.7
Inside Bag of Holding, Minor:
MW Darkwood Hvy Crossbow, Repeating7603
Cased Bolts (20)42
Grappling Arrow10.5
Hybridization Funnel2002
Drill (1” dia.)0.51
MW Thieves tools1002
Grooming kit10.5
Alchemist’s Fire (3)603
Oil, Quick Freeze501
Razor Ice Powder501
Burst Jar352
Acid Flask (3)303
Tanglefoot Bag504
Powder x20.042
Mess Kit0.21
String, 50’0.50.1
Waterskin28
4 days travel rations21
Traveling Formula Book101
Total Weight:38.1
Stowed in Cabin:
Cased Bolts (60)126
Alchemist's Lab, Portable7520
Bedroll0.11.25
Powder x80.063
Cold Weather Outfit81.75
Formula Book153
Total Weight:35
Purchased and Inscribed in Spellbook:
Scroll of Crafter's Fortune (written into formula book)35
Scroll of Identify (written into formula book)35
Scroll of Shield (written into formula book)35
Scroll of See Invisibility (written into formula book)190
Total Cost:15962.7

Her name is Iksenitrix and her fluff will be along presently. For now, let's just say she's got a past which is not so much checkered as striped, polka-dotted, and tattooed. There's a long-term tradition in most navies to choose the officers based on class and social connections (read: nobility) as much if not more than actual competence. Icky (never, ever call her Icky) is rather the opposite, but then, she didn't start out in the Navy. She has something of a soft spot for any members of the crew who are aboard as penalty or pardon (do your time, die, or ship out!), having been there herself some years back.

The more civilized observers might reckon the office of 'Quartermaster' as having to do with stores, cargo and supplies, and the Assistant Quartermaster does indeed take care of the Sassy's stocks as if they were her own (*COUGH*). So one might perhaps think that it was a matter of competence and outlook; if you have someone who is a hoarder and accumulator, just put them in charge of everything with the understanding that as ordered and as needed they are required to release bits and pieces of it. Not a bad plan; you end up with a careful and stingy provisioner who isn't apt to let the ship run out of supplies.

But while they'd be right about 'competence and outlook,' they'd be missing part of the equation. The origin of the term "quartermaster" comes from the quarter-deck, where two ships in arms were most likely to come in contact and whence boarding parties typically leapt off to engage the enemy. Long before quartermasters became stockpilers and bean-counters, their role was as grenadiers and shock-troopers, the first to set foot on an enemy ship, leading marines and other boarders on raids.

...And when you consider it in those terms, having a vicious little miniature dragon with highly explosive hobbies as the ship's assistant quartermaster suddenly takes on an entirely new dimension.

My O/Os. My A/As.
Games I seek:
Savage Worlds of My Little Pony <- Just what it says. Free supplement for SW. (Or any other MLP RP!!! :D)
Eclipse Phase <- Posthuman grit SF, open source, downloadable from their web site. VERY deep worldbuilding.
Cold City <- Espionage meets the Lovecraftian supernatural. Allies in post-war Berlin chasing down the results of secret Nazi experiments
a|state <- Post-apocalyptic sort-of-steampunk, sort-of-high tech roleplay in a massive, decaying, broken-down city-state.

kongming

Carny: nice work, tables really are a pain. Even doing them for ability scores and skills is a bit annoying. Incidentally, I'm officially on the ship as an Entertainer.
Catapultam habeo. Nisi pecuniam omnem mihi dabis, ad caput tuum saxum immane mittam.

I have a catapult. Give me all the money, or I will fling an enormous rock at your head.

Ons/Offs:
https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=9536.msg338515

SheerFantasia

I have update the first post with new info concerning Hit points and level advancement speed (the last two bullet points), as well as Carny's player table (big thanks and hug!)

The second post has now been update with the Campaign traits.

Ghostwheel

I picked up the Free Companion Hopeful trait and updated my charsheet with both that and a few skill points. Stick me in as one of the deckhands for now if you would?

Bibliophilia

Ghostwheel, how does Ramza have a +5 on his Reflex and AC for his Dex bonus?

Phaia

oooh oooh I know how he did it...I asked  ;D

Oracle -mystery- Lore  http://www.d20pfsrd.com/classes/base-classes/oracle/mysteries/paizo---oracle-mysteries/lore
Sidestep Secret (Su): Your innate understanding of the universe has granted you preternatural reflexes and the uncanny ability to step out of danger at the very last second. Add your Charisma modifier (instead of your Dexterity modifier) to your Armor Class and all Reflex saving throws. Your armor’s maximum Dexterity bonus applies to your Charisma instead of your Dexterity (see FAQ.)

and then he did this Feat --Noble scion
Scion of War: You use your Charisma modifier to adjust Initiative checks instead of your Dexterity modifier.
http://www.d20pfsrd.com/feats/general-feats/noble-scion

I was very impressed!! had never thought about something like that

Phaia

Bibliophilia

Kivana's Backstory

Kivana was not a well-loved child.  The best she could hope for growing up was indifference, and that suited her just fine.  She was proof of her mother's indiscretion, the bastard child her family shunned to the basement and pretended did not exist.  She never knew her real father, though she heard many whispered rumors about him by listening to the servants and others talk when they forgot she was near, or had no awareness of the small, curious child hidden away in the piles of fresh laundry, or behind boxes of food in the pantry.  Some claimed he was a magician, a devilishly handsome man who'd seduced her mother into an extended affair while he'd been staying briefly in Iberica along his travels.  But, most discarded that notion, since it left Ferrina, Kivana's mother, mostly blameless, after all, who among them could resist the enchantments of a dashing sorcerer.  More often, they spoke of him as a hedonistic bard of ill-repute, who wooed her mother with poetry and charm, but whom Ferrina was quite happy to spend time with, as she had numerous others while her husband, Orvan, was away on business. 

Kivana grew to prefer the idea of her father as a wandering minstrel, since she had little love for her vain and insipid mother, and knew well that the rumors of her frequent infidelity were true.  She came to know all the dirty little secrets in her mother's fancy household, and this knowledge made her understand the truth that lies behind the facade of society.  She was an outcast, denied by those who grudgingly provided her food and shelter, looked down upon by those who believed themselves better than.  She had free reign in the city, allowed to wander as she liked, as long as she remained out from under foot and away from the resentful eyes of her family.  She began to spend time with others like herself, the forgotten and unwanted children, the poor and morally flexible.  There she had friends who did not care that she was a bastard, or that she was different, and she was free to be herself in their company.

Her gift for sneaking into places where she ought not be, and cleverness earned her an apprenticeship, though it was hardly formal, with an outlaw known as Sly Kurstan.  He'd once been a Gunslinger of note, but time and drink had put a tremor in his hands, though neither had dulled his mind.  When he was sober enough, which was not exactly often, he would instruct Kivana in the use of what he considered to be the only really worthwhile weapon.  She took to guns in a way many could not, and grew to respect them, even revere them, as Kurstan did.  She also served as his look-out, spy and sneak thief, slipping into places he could not get into, and seeing things he could not see.  Her family was no-doubt relieved when they discovered that Kivanna had vacated her grim basement room without a word of good-bye, taking with her only the few personal items she'd accumulated during her relatively short life, and some food from the pantry.  Orvan might have blustered about the fine bottle of spirits she'd pilfered from the cellar, but upon reflection had likely considered it fair trade to no longer have his wife's bastard under his roof.

The spirits she gave to Kurstan when she announced her intention to stay with him from then on, and while the notion to object might have occurred to him, the liquor was too dear to risk.  So, Kivana, at the age of twenty-five, moved in with the aging half-elf and began to teach herself what she could while he enjoyed the food she cooked and the wealth her ability for discovering secrets and thievery afforded him.  Kivana made friends with the Goblins in the city, some of them at least, and they begrudgingly taught her about engineering and crafting, what she could not learn from Kurstan, she begged from those clever minds.  She taught herself to deal with beasts, mainly horses, though Kurstan's ancient nag was stubborn and lazy, and fought the girl every step of the way.

When she was sixty, still fairly young for her race, Kurstan was killed in a fight with a newly minted gunslinger looking to build his reputation by cutting down the old guard.  The beardless boy had heard stories of Sly Kurstan, and cared little that the legend had gone gray and palsied.  Sly Kurstan still had his pride, and on the afternoon the youth called him out, he had imbibed just enough liquid courage to delude himself into thinking he was still quick and his eye still true.  Kurstan shot first, but the bullet merely grazed the boy's shoulder, and a half-second later the old gunslinger was lying in the dust, with his life's blood spilling from his gut.  Kurstan's death was not quick, or pretty, and Kivana tended to him as he grew first feverish, then mortally ill from the wound.  Three days later, in a shack that reeked of fetid flesh, death and alcohol, Sly Kurstan left this world while in an alcohol-induced stupor.  Kivana was alone once more.

She buried her mentor, and the closest thing she'd ever had to a father, and burned the reeking shack to the ground, all her worldly possessions tucked into the worn leather bag on her shoulder.  She took on Sly Kurstan's god as her own, Cayden Cailean, and worshipped in the way Kurstan had, by walking into the nearest tavern and getting uproariously drunk.  In the midst of her send-off, and mass, she heard that beardless youth bragging to all who would listen about how he'd beaten old Sly Kurstan in a duel, and sent the legendary gunslinger crawling home with a bullet in his gut.  Kivana had never been drunk before, and perhaps she would have thought twice about her next actions if she hadn't been just then, but she had spent the last three days watching the only person who'd ever treated her kindly, who'd ever seen her as being worth something, go mad with sickness and pain.  So, perhaps she would have done what she did anyhow.  She turned from her drink and retrieved her musket, took aim and painted the rear wall of the tavern with the young boy's brains.

No one moved as she walked across the room, unsteady on her feet, but with a cold eye and rock-solid hands, and removed the gunslinger's purse, leaving a few coins before his body as payment for his funeral.  She carried the remaining gold back to her seat at the bar, finished her drink in one swallow, and left the tavern in utter silence.  She walked to the nearest authorities and turned herself in, prepared to accept her punishment for the murder of the man who had killed her mentor.  She was tried and sentenced to twenty years hard labor in service to the crown, which in time saw her pardoned if she agreed to take on a job aboard an air ship, the Sasskiana.  She jumped at the chance for adventure, with the thought of her unknown father lingering in the back of her mind.

Anon315

Updated history. It's not as wonderful as some others that I'm seeing, but I'm working 60 hours and wanted to flesh him out a little bit. Pun totally intended.

Bibliophilia

Considering a catfolk for one of my level 4 characters.  Not sure of class, yet, but the picture I like suggests she's one of the entertainers.

Anon315

Magus often needs dervish dance, which requires perform dance, so there's always that option.

Bibliophilia

Chula suggested the Bard Archetype Lotus Geisha and I think that would be perfect.  Especially since I have a particular affinity for geishas, especially the kind that can kick ass.

SheerFantasia

Alright, as I slowly trudge through RL work, progress on the beginning adventures go forth.  Can you guys give me an idea who would like to be going into an uncharted wilderness adventure, and who would like a ship-bound (and its immediate environs) adventure. (remember a limit of 6 players per adventure)

Oh, and if anyone is choosing the campaign based traits, mention that too as I have to factor who the significant NPCs know, and any min-quests associated with them.  If I didn't mention it before, PCs who take the same campaign trait have the option to know/have met each other as well.  (and if anyone would like to build (normal) relationships between characters, that would be swell as well)

Chulanowa

#89
I found myself tinkering with red shirts... without having posted my "major" character! So i guess I better put up said core character!

Ngidi Ashia, Askari of Dar Celim
(Human Sword Saint Samurai, Deckhand, Free Companion Hopeful)
Background
   Despite the summer heat, the throne room of the Prince of Dar Celim was chillly. Not just from the efforts of the court wizards, but the oppressive silence and dark mood that hung over the proceedings. Ashia was prostrate, seventeen paces in front of the throne, her forehead pressed against the jeweled tiles that made the floor. The only sound in her ears, besides the flow of her own blood in her veins, was the quiet whisper of silk on silk from the assembled courtiers, all of whom stood several feet back from the spectacle before them. For long minutes this dragged on, Ashia's muscled, dark form hunched before the throne's dais, refusing to move; The courtiers, all frozen in place, refusing to relinquish their views. And somewhere before her, the stern face of the young prince who had taken the throne because of her actions.

   "Ngidi Ashia; Daughter of Ngidi Kyumi, eighth son of the Ngidi line and warden of the lands of Aso, Nikue and Sala; Askari of the Ingwe way, honored by her order with the title of Sainted Blade; Formerly champion of the Righteous Lord of Dar Celim, Inkosi Ha and father of the current Lord, Um Ntwana Ului, soon to be Inkosi Ului, Long His Reign; Lift your head." At the counselor's demand, Ashia lifted herself so that she was on her hands and knees, eyes still fixed on the jeweled patterns on the floor.

   So this is how my life ends, she thought bitterly, at the command of a eunuch. The call to order had excited the nobles, and murmurs and motion filled the cool chamber, the panoply of silks and prints creating a rushing sea of color on either side of her; Ashia kept her attention forward, towards her lord and his servant.

   "Ngidi Ashia;" the counselor's high voice announced again, this time without titles, "you are accused of complicity in the murder of Inkosh Ha, who by your oath, was under your protection. Do you deny the charges brought before you?"

   The dull roar of the crowd around her faded to nothing at the question. Inside her, a voice leapt and screamed, yes! yes! I deny it! The scars on her body from the assassin's blade read like a map of her innocence. But her lord was dead, and she was alive... Honor demanded the truth, not the facts. "No," she croaked, surprised at the weakness of that feeble noise coming from her own throat. "No," she repeated, stronger "While the Inkosi lay mortally wounded before me, I -" her mouth moved, wordlessly, unable to continue.

   "You what," the wheedling voice of the counselor prompted, with false gentleness.

   "I took the healing drought from the assassin's corpse for myself," The words poured out in a rush. She felt heat then, in her face, over her shoulders and neck, a crimson flush beneath already-dark skin as she remembered. Her own greed for life had caused her to fail her duty, and because of her, the corpse of the king - her ward - was to be burned to free his spirit this very night. The roar of the noble crowd returned then, battering at her like a gale, the storm of words and curses and hate. She was a stone in the typhoon though, unmoving, unflinching.

   "And do you bring before the court, any words, any claims for leniency?"

   If she dared look up, Ashia was certain she would see the poisonous smile plastered on the eunuch's face. They so loved speaking with the voice of the king, and this one had a particular venom her askari, she knew. His words tempted her, that little voice once again crying out how she had slain the assassin, and even saved evidence implicating Inkosi Nuur of Sebet in the attack. But there was no innocence here. Certainly not after denying her own. she swallowed, her tongue scraping against the back of her parched throat. "i do not, honored Voice of the king," she dipped her head again "I ask only that I be allowed to atone, before Um Ntwana Ului, and those gathered here today."

   Her stomach clenched at her own words, and from the voices of the courtiers, so did theirs. To 'atone' was, of course, to take her own life, there before the court, to spill her guts and pierce her heart, to have her head taken by a second. The voices quieted to a whisper, then silence, as they waited for word. Even the counselor was silent, waiting for the prince to speak.

   They waited.

   Waited.

   Silence from the throne.

   "Your plea has been rejected," the eunuch spoke. In her mind, Ashia saw him clicking his heels in glee. It would be funny, if she didn't know what came next. "At Dawn tomorrow, you will be put to death; your head will be removed, and your limbs-"

   "No." The voice was so soft, it was hard to hear over the counselor. Even so, silence dropped like an anvil. Ashia's breath caught in her throat; She was one of the few in the room who had heard the prince speak before. Was he about to pardon her?

   What a foolish hope. "Ngidi Ashia, my father is dead because you are selfish." The words stung her like a razored whip. "I will not allow you to atone, nor will I allow your sin to be purged for you. I command you to live. Live with your shame forevermore. Let it divorce you from your ancestors. Leave my land, and all lands touched by my ancestors; find a ship and take it as far from here as it will sail."

   Horror cut at her worse than the knives of that assassin had. Live? As an exile? Wander barbarian lands, never to hear the songs of her ancestors again? Her eyes lifted for the first time, such was her shock; She did not remember the prince seeming so small, a young teenager enveloped by the massive throne of bronze and garnet, surrounded by swollen peacock courtiers. The scowl on his face froze her blood worse than any wizard's spell, even as her face burned. She dropped again, kowtowing against the floor, groveling silently as if that might make him lift the curse.

   Silence from the throne, again.

   "Part from us," came the voice of the counselor again; even he sounded numb and shaken. Ashia rose to her hands and feet, and lifted herself, still bowing to the throne for thirteen steps backwards, before turning to stumble for the doorway. Had the chamber always been so large? It seemed like days before she walked out of the cool chamber into the blistering heat of the Dar Celim afternoon. The sun and the colors it created dazzled her, before she realized she was seeing them through tears - the last sight of her homeland.

   "Ngidi, Ngidi, Ngidi!" a boy's tiny voice and tugging at her hands brought her attention down. A page, his big round head half-shaved, smiled up at her and pressed a scroll into er hand before scampering off, not allowing any questions. still in a daze, she lifted the tube of paper. It was sealed with gold wire, bent in the shape of a dragon that coiled around the paper; symbol of the Dragons, a rival order to her own among the askari. The message was brief and hastily written, but it gave her a destination, should she choose to take it.

   Sasskiana.

Persona
Attitude: At first, Ashia is always stiff and formal with people she meets, applying a rigid code of etiquette from her homeland that isn't always appreciated else where. When relaxed and more familiar with the people around her, however, she's a loud-laughing, drink-loving woman with a penchant for poetry both sublime and bawdy. After all, the sages say, a soldier could die in the next moment, so enjoy this one. Though she is an adherent of laws, rules, and order, she also has her own personal code that may not always mesh - Not many nations are as accepting of duels in the street over matters of honor as Dar Celim, after all...

Habits: Ashia is an early riser - even for someone operating on a ship. This is so she can slip in time to practice her swordplay, tend her weapons, or even just meditate before pitching in as deckhand; she tends to perform these little rituals clad only below the waist, but does put on a shirt for the work (nobody wants rope burn on their tits). She prays to her ancestors briefly at noon and before retiring to bed.

Sexuality: So far, she hasn't really demonstrated any inclinations aboard the Sasskiana, or at port; opinion is probably that she's frigid, but it's more that she's wrapped up in her own world, stewing over her shame and exile, pair with the work aboard the ship and demands of her order, that she feels she just doesn't have time, or even that she's not worthy. That said, she prefers men, but is not unfamiliar with women - the role of askari is traditionally male, and women in the order often "act the part."

Crew Relations: She admires the captain and seems to hope to join his Free companions; the hesitation is partly hers, as she's uncertain whether this would mean taking the man as her new lord or would just make her a sword for hire. She has little time for Illoryn in any capacity beyond her rank on the ship; she sees the elf as undisciplined, more due to her attitude than any actual lack of discipline. She barely knows Mellisan, but if asked, seems to think highly of the woman - for her nobility and out of admiration for her scholastic endeavors, more than anything personal. And Tassil... Tassil distracts Ashia. he knows it. She's not sure whether this makes her want to dive overboard, cut him down, or drag him into a hammock. So she just blinks and goes about her day like a big dumb camel or something.

Reasons for joining: She is quite literally following her lord's last order, to sail as far from his lands as she can go... Well, other worlds most certainly count! She caught direction of this via a message from another askari, of the Dragon order; she has since taken their vows. She seeks to die in glory and rejoin her ancestors, to make up for her not dying to protect her king... but is in no great hurry to die foolishly.

Character Sheet

Ghostwheel

#90
Updated my OP with a red shirt FWIW.

Quote from: SheerFantasia on July 12, 2014, 10:30:05 AM
Alright, as I slowly trudge through RL work, progress on the beginning adventures go forth.  Can you guys give me an idea who would like to be going into an uncharted wilderness adventure, and who would like a ship-bound (and its immediate environs) adventure. (remember a limit of 6 players per adventure)

No real tendency towards one or the other either way, honestly.

Quote from: SheerFantasia on July 12, 2014, 10:30:05 AM
Oh, and if anyone is choosing the campaign based traits, mention that too as I have to factor who the significant NPCs know, and any min-quests associated with them.  If I didn't mention it before, PCs who take the same campaign trait have the option to know/have met each other as well.  (and if anyone would like to build (normal) relationships between characters, that would be swell as well)

Anyone else taking Free Companion Hopeful?

CarnivalOfTheGoat

Quote from: Chulanowa on July 12, 2014, 12:02:05 PM
I found myself tinkering with red shirts... without having posted my "major" character!

Ngidi Ashia, Askari of Dar Celim
(Human Sword Saint Samurai)
Background
   Despite the summer heat, the throne room of the Prince of Dar Celim was chillly. Not just from the efforts of the court wizards, but the oppressive silence and dark mood that hung over the proceedings. Ashia was prostrate, seventeen paces in front of the throne, her forehead pressed against the jeweled tiles that made the floor. The only sound in her ears, besides the flow of her own blood in her veins, was the quiet whisper of silk on silk from the assembled courtiers, all of whom stood several feet back from the spectacle before them. For long minutes this dragged on, Ashia's muscled, dark form hunched before the throne's dais, refusing to move; The courtiers, all frozen in place, refusing to relinquish their views. And somewhere before her, the stern face of the young prince who had taken the throne because of her actions.

   "Ngidi Ashia; Daughter of Ngidi Kyumi, eighth son of the Ngidi line and warden of the lands of Aso, Nikue and Sala; Askari of the Ingwe way, honored by her order with the title of Sainted Blade; Formerly champion of the Righteous Lord of Dar Celim, Inkosi Ha and father of the current Lord, Um Ntwana Ului, soon to be Inkosi Ului, Long His Reign; Lift your head." At the counselor's demand, Ashia lifted herself so that she was on her hands and knees, eyes still fixed on the jeweled patterns on the floor.

   So this is how my life ends, she thought bitterly, at the command of a eunuch. The call to order had excited the nobles, and murmurs and motion filled the cool chamber, the panoply of silks and prints creating a rushing sea of color on either side of her; Ashia kept her attention forward, towards her lord and his servant.

   "Ngishi Ashia;" the counselor's high voice announced again, this time without titles, "you are accused of complicity in the murder of Inkosh Ha, who by your oath, was under your protection. Do you deny the charges brought before you?"

   The dull roar of the crowd around her faded to nothing at the question. Inside her, a voice leapt and screamed, yes! yes! I deny it! The scars on her body from the assassin's blade read like a map of her innocence. But her lord was dead, and she was alive... Honor demanded the truth, not the facts. "No," she croaked, surprised at the weakness of that feeble noise coming from her own throat. "No," she repeated, stronger "While the Inkosi lay mortally wounded before me, I -" her mouth moved, wordlessly, unable to continue.

   "You what," the wheedling voice of the counselor prompted, with false gentleness.

   "I took the healing drought from the assassin's corpse for myself," The words poured out in a rush. She felt heat then, in her face, over her shoulders and neck, a crimson flush beneath already-dark skin as she remembered. Her own greed for life had caused her to fail her duty, and because of her, the corpse of the king - her ward - was to be burned to free his spirit this very night. The roar of the noble crowd returned then, battering at her like a gale, the storm of words and curses and hate. She was a stone in the typhoon though, unmoving, unflinching.

   "And do you bring before the court, any words, any claims for leniency?"

   If she dared look up, Ashia was certain she would see the poisonous smile plastered on the eunuch's face. They so loved speaking with the voice of the king, and this one had a particular venom her askari, she knew. His words tempted her, that little voice once again crying out how she had slain the assassin, and even saved evidence implicating Inkosi Nuur of Sebet in the attack. But there was no innocence here. Certainly not after denying her own. she swallowed, her tongue scraping against the back of her parched throat. "i do not, honored Voice of the king," she dipped her head again "I ask only that I be allowed to atone, before Um Ntwana Ului, and those gathered here today."

   Her stomach clenched at her own words, and from the voices of the courtiers, so did theirs. To 'atone' was, of course, to take her own life, there before the court, to spill her guts and pierce her heart, to have her head taken by a second. The voices quieted to a whisper, then silence, as they waited for word. Even the counselor was silent, waiting for the prince to speak.

   They waited.

   Waited.

   Silence from the throne.

   "Your plea has been rejected," the eunuch spoke. In her mind, Ashia saw him clicking his heels in glee. It would be funny, if she didn't know what came next. "At Dawn tomorrow, you will be put to death; your head will be removed, and your limbs-"

   "No." The voice was so soft, it was hard to hear over the counselor. Even so, silence dropped like an anvil. Ashia's breath caught in her throat; She was one of the few in the room who had heard the prince speak before. Was he about to pardon her?

   What a foolish hope. "Ngidi Ashia, my father is dead because you are selfish." The words stung her like a razored whip. "I will not allow you to atone, nor will I allow your sin to be purged for you. I command you to live. Live with your shame forevermore. Let it divorce you from your ancestors. Leave my land, and all lands touched by my ancestors; find a ship and take it as far from here as it will sail."

   Horror cut at her worse than the knives of that assassin had. Live? As an exile? Wander barbarian lands, never to hear the songs of her ancestors again? Her eyes lifted for the first time, such was her shock; She did not remember the prince seeming so small, a young teenager enveloped by the massive throne of bronze and garnet, surrounded by swollen peacock courtiers. The scowl on his face froze her blood worse than any wizard's spell, even as her face burned. She dropped again, kowtowing against the floor, groveling silently as if that might make him lift the curse.

   Silence from the throne, again.

   "Part from us," came the voice of the counselor again; even he sounded numb and shaken. Ashia rose to her hands and feet, and lifted herself, still bowing to the throne for thirteen steps backwards, before turning to stumble for the doorway. Had the chamber always been so large? It seemed like days before she walked out of the cool chamber into the blistering heat of the Dar Celim afternoon. The sun and the colors it created dazzled her, before she realized she was seeing them through tears - the last sight of her homeland.

   "Ngidi, Ngidi, Ngidi!" a boy's tiny voice and tugging at her hands brought her attention down. A page, his big round head half-shaved, smiled up at her and pressed a scroll into er hand before scampering off, not allowing any questions. still in a daze, she lifted the tube of paper. It was sealed with gold wire, bent in the shape of a dragon that coiled around the paper; symbol of the Dragons, a rival order to her own among the askari. The message was brief and hastily written, but it gave her a destination, should she choose to take it.

   Sasskiana.

Persona
Attitude: At first, Ashia is always stiff and formal with people she meets, applying a rigid code of etiquette from her homeland that isn't always appreciated else where. When relaxed and more familiar with the people around her, however, she's a loud-laughing, drink-loving woman with a penchant for poetry both sublime and bawdy. After all, the sages say, a soldier could die in the next moment, so enjoy this one. Though she is an adherent of laws, rules, and order, she also has her own personal code that may not always mesh - Not many nations are as accepting of duels in the street over matters of honor as Dar Celim, after all...

Habits: Ashia is an early riser - even for someone operating on a ship. This is so she can slip in time to practice her swordplay, tend her weapons, or even just meditate before pitching in as deckhand; she tends to perform these little rituals clad only below the waist, but does put on a shirt for the work (nobody wants rope burn on their tits). She prays to her ancestors briefly at noon and before retiring to bed.

Sexuality: So far, she hasn't really demonstrated any inclinations aboard the Sasskiana, or at port; opinion is probably that she's frigid, but it's more that she's wrapped up in her own world, stewing over her shame and exile, pair with the work aboard the ship and demands of her order, that she feels she just doesn't have time, or even that she's not worthy. That said, she prefers men, but is not unfamiliar with women - the role of askari is traditionally male, and women in the order often "act the part."

Crew Relations: She admires the captain and seems to hope to join his Free companions; the hesitation is partly hers, as she's uncertain whether this would mean taking the man as her new lord or would just make her a sword for hire. She has little time for Illoryn in any capacity beyond her rank on the ship; she sees the elf as undisciplined, more due to her attitude than any actual lack of discipline. She barely knows Mellisan, but if asked, seems to think highly of the woman - for her nobility and out of admiration for her scholastic endeavors, more than anything personal. And Tassil... Tassil distracts Ashia. he knows it. She's not sure whether this makes her want to dive overboard, cut him down, or drag him into a hammock. So she just blinks and goes about her day like a big dumb camel or something.

Reasons for joining: She is quite literally following her lord's last order, to sail as far from his lands as she can go... Well, other worlds most certainly count! She caught direction of this via a message from another askari, of the Dragon order; she has since taken their vows. She seeks to die in glory and rejoin her ancestors, to make up for her not dying to protect her king... but is in no great hurry to die foolishly.

Character Sheet

Just checking, because the opening line of the post makes it uncertain...Is this your red shirt you were tinkering with or your main character?!

My O/Os. My A/As.
Games I seek:
Savage Worlds of My Little Pony <- Just what it says. Free supplement for SW. (Or any other MLP RP!!! :D)
Eclipse Phase <- Posthuman grit SF, open source, downloadable from their web site. VERY deep worldbuilding.
Cold City <- Espionage meets the Lovecraftian supernatural. Allies in post-war Berlin chasing down the results of secret Nazi experiments
a|state <- Post-apocalyptic sort-of-steampunk, sort-of-high tech roleplay in a massive, decaying, broken-down city-state.

Chulanowa

#92
Ashia's my core character - level 6 et al.

Quote from: 'Ghostwheel'Anyone else taking Free Companion Hopeful?

That would be me, yup!

As for whether I'd rather she go off-ship or stay aboard... Well, let's go with off-ship for the moment, maybe give her some fresh air and exercise.

Green Goo Theory

I think I'm just going to wait but keep watching.  I'm still torn on my character and as far as I can tell we have enough to fill the 6 per quota for the two adventures that are already listed. 
Coming soon...

Foxfyr

Quote from: SheerFantasia on July 12, 2014, 10:30:05 AM
Alright, as I slowly trudge through RL work, progress on the beginning adventures go forth.  Can you guys give me an idea who would like to be going into an uncharted wilderness adventure, and who would like a ship-bound (and its immediate environs) adventure. (remember a limit of 6 players per adventure)

Tsume's role would probably lend itself better to being mainly on ship-bound adventures, but I would certainly be interested in uncharted wilderness adventure wherever it would be applicable for his involvement.

Ghostwheel

Quote from: Chulanowa on July 12, 2014, 12:29:11 PM
That would be me, yup!

Any idea on how we'd know each other, apart from just seeing each other on board? Give a read through my character's background, and I'll do the same with yours tomorrow, and let's see what we come up with. PM me and we can get the ball rolling to get started.

Bibliophilia

Both my characters are really built to be good for either.

kongming

I can work in either setting - if we're exploring new places and meeting new people, I'm good at that, less so at the basic "go out there and find out what you can eat without dying" part. If we're on the ship, I'm fine with that as well.
Catapultam habeo. Nisi pecuniam omnem mihi dabis, ad caput tuum saxum immane mittam.

I have a catapult. Give me all the money, or I will fling an enormous rock at your head.

Ons/Offs:
https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=9536.msg338515

CarnivalOfTheGoat

Pretty much finished Icky's sheet. Her list of crap is too large to present clearly with what's in what container on Myth-Weavers, so I'm going to set it up here. And put up her background. Tomorrow. Also I think I need to update the list of players/characters. It's just too late tonight, sorry.

My O/Os. My A/As.
Games I seek:
Savage Worlds of My Little Pony <- Just what it says. Free supplement for SW. (Or any other MLP RP!!! :D)
Eclipse Phase <- Posthuman grit SF, open source, downloadable from their web site. VERY deep worldbuilding.
Cold City <- Espionage meets the Lovecraftian supernatural. Allies in post-war Berlin chasing down the results of secret Nazi experiments
a|state <- Post-apocalyptic sort-of-steampunk, sort-of-high tech roleplay in a massive, decaying, broken-down city-state.

Anon315

My character defaults to shipboard, but is for general use and abuse. I'll go where my knives are needed for the protection of ship's crew.