[CHAR] To Teluval, Farewell

[Polybius]

Travelers

_{A Players Guide}

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Current Player Roster

Dali an Ophidian Bard by @PrivateVentures
Chama a Human Wizard by @Darach
Saoirse a Human Tinkerer by @Mokley
Jhang Chao a Human Fighter by @Gunther
GruSum a Grumbler Tinkerer by @Exit

Travelers. Welcome. Inevitably one will find themselves in the city of Teluval. Perhaps disembarking from the Cog City of Beltane, in a wondrous dirigible, or warily trudging along the lonely Basilisk Road; Travelers are worldly, relish the impermanent, and crave adventure. They gather in quiet taverns and wine-gardens, exchanging trinkets and lore. They vanish without a trace into some distant ruin or cave. Occasionally they return, their quest for knowledge satiated either by riches or the truth they had thought they sought...

The world is a surreal fantasy, but carries all the trappings of a fantasy adventure. Players will use magic, fight monsters and interact with the interesting environments and characters in the world. Use the professions and races below to create a character. You may also suggest your own profession for a character, but remember the party consists of professional travelers, people who seek dangerous locations and search for treasure and artifacts for profit. Included is a character sheet to get started.

Character App

Name:
Race:
Profession:
Magic: (2) Minor Spells, (1) Major Spell
Inventory: A weapon or two would be a good idea.
Description: 2 paragraphs max. Include things your companion travelers would notice about you.
Optional Questions: There are no wrong or right answers, and you may interpret questions as you please.
What is your characters crime?
Favorite poem?
What do you treasure most?
Given the choice, how would you die?

Professions:

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Bard
Storytellers and musicians, a bard travels from city to city looking to perform for gold or hospitality or both. Some very famous bards have been granted permanent employ in certain cities. The lifestyle of a travelling entertainer gives them access to rumors and certain knowledge and lore. Bards compose poems and songs, construct stories or retell famous tales in their own voice. Although most bards can play a wide variety of instrument, they often pick a one as their preferred instrument.

Fighter
To say you are a fighter is to imply that you are a mercenary. To say you are a mercenary is to suggest you are willing to kill, steal or abduct for monetary gain. Simultaneously despised and employed by nobility, there is no shortage of work for a mercenary. Skilled in combat, or subterfuge, sabotage or sneaking about, guarding, fighting, the aforementioned abducting, ransoming and kidnapping.

Wizard
There are many sorts of wizards in the world. Some are simply liars. Others do possess magical powers, either from inherent ability, or the accumulation of magical items scavenged in ruins and crypts. Many sorcerers take on pseudonyms and are often eager to announce their plethora of titles upon introduction.

Tinkerer
Called 'cog-men' in Beltane, tinkerers are mechanically inclined, creating new objects out of the scavenged parts of pre-Obliteration ruins. Experienced cog-men have learned to avoid traps and the slumbering guardians of those same ruins. They have certain knowledge of the pre-Obliteration world that is valued by travelers and nobles. There is a great college of tinkering in Beltane.

Races:

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Automatons
NOTE: While automatons are incapable of casting magic, they may use magical items like any other race.
Crafted in the time before the Obliteration, automatons (automata, gear-heads, cogizens) are unique, intricate sentient beings with surprisingly human emotions and motives. The tightly-wound gears and inner mechanisms of their heads have baffled tinkerers and scientists for ages and some notable authors have published long and meticulous tomes that amount to "I'm quite stumped as to how it all works."

Automata are from an older time, but collectively cannot (or will not divulge) the secrets of the ancient world. It is only when in close proximity of relics or ancient devices that they seem to glean a sliver of information regarding that era; traveling parties often seek their employment for just such insights. Regardless, automata require no sustenance and merely shrug at offer of payment for such services. Motives remain as unique as their construction.

Humanoid, two arms and two legs topped with a head holding the most vital and important cog-work, automata vocalize in a variety of ways. Either by striking tonal keys in some semblance of syllabic pronunciation, or resonating tiny glass bells in a variety of ways to synthesize speech. Some are merely mute and rely on parchment and quill or chalk.

Automatons are strong and resilient despite being primarily constructed of soft metals such as copper, tin and bronze. All of these parts are held together with bolts, springs, wire, pistons, hinges, screws, and in some of the more decrepit states, leather and twine or cord. Automatons often seek the services of a tinkerer to repair neglected parts, some even going as so far to replace pieces of themselves that have been damaged beyond repair, and it should be noted that these are the parts that are either cosmetic, or rely on only simple mechanical systems-an automata will never open it's head compartment for a tinkerer to inspect while it is still 'living'.

Grumblers
NOTE: Grumblers are effectively immortal and do not age, but they can be killed.
It is generally assumed that the Grumblers have simply always 'been here' as their presence, despite their enormous size is largely ignored. Hulking humanoids with scaly grey skin, and large, almost child-like eyes that are a murky pupil-less white. They are employed in larger cities as laborers, porters and builders and take quickly to long, arduous and repetitive tasks. They appear to be sulking relentlessly and tend to their labor with a sort of nonsensical grumbling that attributes their name.

Grumblers gather in small communities of their own kind in larger cities, and can be found in most metropolitan areas. Despite all the work-related grumbling, they speak in a sing-song voice, and construct long epic poems of questionable worth and insight. There are no female grumblers, and do not appear to reproduce in a biological sense, their numbers only growing when a new group arrives to a city or community. They are vegetarian, but require enormous amounts of food.

Occasionally, a grumbler will travel, claiming it is time for a holiday, but often return to their enclaves within a season or two. It has been suggested that grumblers, isolated from their own kind suffer a sort of maddening, growing more and more feral the longer they are away from their kin. This 'feral-ness' has attributed to the rumors that Grumblers lost or left alone in the wild will eventually transform into a sort of ogre, or troll-like creature that often haunts the fairy tales that children so love.

Humans
NOTE:Humans are the most powerful magic-users in the world.
Humans are the most populous race in the world, gathering in large cities. They have a knack for complex ideas, creativity and a killer survival instinct. They are frail compared to other creatures in the world, but clever. They are also endlessly curious, even to a fault. They will seek the deepest, darkest most dangerous places in the world, if not to simply tell the tale. Some humans have been given the gift of magic, and the eldest among them are said to be great sorcerers. Speculation abounds that the Obliteration was the fault or was brought about by humans.

Ophidians
NOTE:Ophidians are immune to poisonous substances in liquid or gaseous form.
Ophidians is the name attributed to a wide variety of reptilian or snake like humanoids. They vary in size and appearance, and procreate quickly often with large families, attributing to their dynastic ambitions in some areas of the world. Ophidians were the first to build a great decadent empire after the Obliteration, and are relatively new arrivals to Teluval, Corvasquer and Beltane, and are viewed suspiciously by some, but not all.

Ophidians are great fighters, even unarmed, relying on their evolutionary weapons like claw and tail for combat. That is not to say they enter the fray unarmed; No, they prefer outlandish or cruel weapons in a fight. Scimitars, razor wire, jagged blades, and poison tipped darts are just a sampling.

They are also great builders and engineers. The ziggurats, temples, canals and coliseums of the Ophidian Empire is testament enough. Although the Empire is insular, it's cultural presence is still felt, even as far away as Teluval where enclaves of Ophidian refugees gather. Banishment is a common punishment in the empire, and many of those spurned by the Emperor of the Horned Snake seek refugee in predominantly human cities.

NPC Races:

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Gnomes
A subterranean race of diminutive humanoids who scavenge for useful odds and ends in the lowest chambers of Teluval, chief among which is the flesh and bones of recently deceased individuals. Gnomes are thin little creatures, about 3-4 feet tall with sharp, evil features, a long twisted nose and beady little eyes. They wear little outfits that appear to mock trends of current high society, and carry wicked weapons and tools for cutting and slashing.

Nobody knows where the Gnomes came from, or where they live, although it has been theorized that they have a city-or at least a collection of villages beneath Teluval.

Magic

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Magic users in this game have a bit more work to do on there characters than the other professions, mostly in part because I have left the use of magic a bit open ended in that you have to invent your spells. I have included some schools of magic that I think suit the setting and some basic rules (very meta, I must say) to build a school if you so wish. If you want to craft your own school that's fine too, but I will have to approve it first.

Laws of Magic

Basic Laws Governing Magic

• Scholars have determined that magic falls into one of several schools of practice.
• Wizards prepare spells everyday. Starting wizards have 2 Minor Spells and 1 Major Spell.
• Minor spells may be cast as many times as you wish per day, but the more times you target the same target, the weaker it becomes.
• Major spells can only be cast once per day. Some items may change this rule.
• These rules subject to change over the course of the game.

Schools of Magic

The Wheel

Practitioners of the sorcery known as 'The Wheel' access the latent mystical power in the world and don the cloak of their preferred corresponding color. The Wheel refers to the diagrams and treatises compiled by the old Teluval mystics, when the bridges spanned a wider gap, and the Woad had yet to be built. Colors of the wheel correspond to certain magical effects, the ones that have been discovered so far. The relationship between a color and the caster is a burdening bond-once a color has been chosen it is difficult, perhaps even impossible to master another aspect of the wheel. The corresponding colors and their dominions are listed below. The interpretations and practical effects of which are many and varied. Good Luck!

Blue
Life. Water. Concealing.
Red
Death. Fire. Changing.
Yellow
Wither. Earth. Weaken.
Green
Flourish. Air. Strengthen.

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[Polybius]

Teluval, The City of Names:

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Here, the hand of the Obliteration maimed the earth, and split her belly wide. The city would come in time, stone by stone, bridge by bridge.

Teluval is built between two cliffs cut deep into the earth on a wide flat plain known as Abandonment. The city is inaccessible from this plain, and so a labyrinthine series of tunnels and canals have been cut in the lowest halls and chambers of the city, extending for hundreds of miles north and south. These canals became known as the Water-Road, or the Woad. Abandonment is inhospitable, a deserted and dangerous plateau where the lingering magics of the Obliteration poison any living thing that dares to cross it.

The highest quarter in Teluval is the Moral Quarter, where gathers the wealthiest families, priests and wizards. Moral receives a fair bit of sunlight every day, and there are wide vistas and verandas with lush green gardens and topiary gardens. Water, hoisted from cisterns deep beneath Teluval flows freely.

Just beneath the wealthy district is the Merchants Quarter. Goods from as far away as Beltane and Corvasquer reach the city trading plazas. Spices, fruits, dried meats, root vegetables and wines, cog-parts, clock-parts, weapons, curiosities, familiars and exotic birds and lizards of all sort are available to buy. Here, as well the Merchant Masters make their homes in elaborate manor homes that are built over the ravine. Walled vistas extend over the breach, where business is discussed or pleasures taken.

A step further into the gap will bring you to the Merry Quarter, where the taverns, ale-houses and wine-gardens are located. Other (less reputable) establishments are also built here. These businesses retreat into the very cliffs themselves, however. Unlike the lofty manor homes or the opulent gardens of the upper quarters, the cliffs are bare here save for connecting bridges, stairways and passages. There are no railings here, and one slip of the foot or poor judgement will send you spinning into...

The Mourning Quarter. A quiet, somber place lighted only by the effervescent moss and lichen that clings to the dark stone walls. Here are the enclaves of Grumblers and Ophidian exiles, hidden away in secret caves that amount to small 'villages'. There are a few industries, mostly weaving and textiles. Some cloth dying, ironworking. But the prominent feature of the Mourning Quarter is the Mortuary, where the dead are taken and disposed of.

In the heart of the ravine is the terminal of the Woad. A dozen gates leading to various places outside Teluval are reached by a stone platform sitting in the middle of a subterranean lake, with deep, icy water. The ferrymen work barges, turn enormous wooden wheels and conduct travel from a stone bastion in the center of the platform.

Beltane, The City of Cogs:

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Corvasquer:

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[Gunther]

Jhang Chao

Name: Jhang Chao
Race: Human
Profession: Fighter (Rogue/Assassin)
Magic:
Minor Spells

Dancing Lights: Chao can create up to four lights resembling lanterns or torches casting that amount of light upon an area, or up to four glowing spheres of light, which look like will-o’-wisps, or one faintly glowing, vaguely humanoid shape. The dancing lights must stay within a ten-foot-radius area in relation to each other but otherwise move as Chao desires. He must only have a piece of flint in his possession for this to work. The spell will remain in effect for as long as Chao requires or if he moves more than five hundred feet away from the light. Once the spell is cast, he no longer need think about the light. It will remain.

Vanish: When this ability is enacted, Chao disappears from sight in a puff of smoke for three seconds. He can either move quickly away from an opponent, continue to attack or move toward an opponent. Chao must have a flint & tinder in his possession and a dirty yellowish powder of crushed sulfur.

Major Spell

Darkness: This spell causes an object to radiate shadowy illumination out to a 20-foot radius. All creatures in the area are concealed. Even creatures that can normally see in such conditions as with darkvision or low-light vision cannot see in an area shrouded in magical darkness. Normal lights (torches, candles, lanterns, and so forth) are incapable of brightening the area. If darkness is cast upon a small object that is then placed inside or under a lightproof covering, the spell’s effect is blocked until the covering is removed. The darkness spell can be dispelled by a dispel magic spell. Chao must have a bit of bat fur and a piece of coal for this spell to work.

Inventory:

* Shortsword named Xùnjié (Pronounced: Zoon-Gee) which has been enchanted to make its bearer 10% faster in the sword’s use. Xùnjié is crafted from the finest steel with a leather and fibrous black woven handle. It was a gift from the head of his Assassin’s Guild.
* four blackened steel daggers
* six blackened steel throwing knives
* 12 shuriken (throwing stars)
* set of black leather hand spikes (for climbing walls.)
* set of black foot claws (for climbing walls. Slips over footwear.)
* black studded leather jerkin with silver ornate markings.
* black studded leather vambraces match the jerkin ending at the elbow. At the tip of the elbow is a 3” spike prepared to produce damage if Chao delivers an elbow strike to an opponent.
* three-inch-wide black leather belt with the same ornate designs as on the jerkin and vambraces. * knee high form fitting soft leather boots.
* black silk leggings or bloomers
* black hooded cloak descending to the back of his knees
* black silk mask that covers his nose, mouth and chin area.
* dungeoneer’s pack containing a blanket, 25’ of rope, food, water and wine.
* thieves’ tools
* disguise kit
* signet ring of a minor noble
* a set of dark common clothes
* three belt pouches
* flint & tinder
* bit of bat fur
* piece of coal
* pouch of sulfur

Description:

Chao stands 67” tall and weighs 160 Lbs. He has brown almond shaped eyes and a fair, youth-filled complexion. He has several scars of varying length across his body; trophies from the many fights he has been involved with. Chao’s hair is completely white. He keeps it long, either braided to the rear or in a high ponytail. His hair is rarely permitted to splay across his back in an unkempt manner. He is muscular, more thin than robust from years of a cardio vascular dominated training regimen.

Chao wears a black leather brigandine with silver ornate markings angled like the body of a dragon. His black leather vambraces match the brigandine ending at the elbow. At the back of the elbow is a 3” blackened steel spike prepared to produce damage if Chao delivers an elbow strike to an opponent. A thick black leather belt, approximately three inches in width, matches the chest piece and the vambraces. His high soft leather boots are worn and form fitting. They fit his feet smoothly allowing him to walk quietly when necessary. Silk leggings or bloomers billow out from his waist and tucked into the top of his knee-high boots. Atop his head is a hooded cloak and mask that covers his nose, mouth and chin area. The hood conceals his face quite easily. When not engaged in the act of his profession, his hood and mask reveal his boyish looks.

Optional Questions:

Jhang Chao has committed murder by differing definitions. In some regions, he is a wanted man. In some regions, bodies were found, but knowledge of who committed these murders remains unknown. Yet, in other regions, he is known for killing but is held up high as a champion, savior or hero of the weak. He has also committed larceny and a few other minor crimes.

Battle

By Chu Yuan

“We grasp our battle-spears: we don our breast-plates of hide.
The axles of our chariots touch: our short swords meet.
Standards obscure the sun: the foe roll up like clouds.
Arrows fall thick: the warriors press forward.
They menace our ranks: they break our line.
The left-hand trace-horse is dead: the one on the right is smitten.
The fallen horses block our wheels: they impede the yoke-horses!”

They grasp their jade drum-sticks: they beat the sounding drums.
Heaven decrees their fall: the dread Powers are angry.

The warriors are all dead: they lie on the moor-field.
They issued but shall not enter: they went but shall not return.
The plains are flat and wide: the way home is long.

Their swords lie beside them: their black bows, in their hand.
Though their limbs were torn, their hearts could not be repressed.
They were more than brave: they were inspired with the spirit of “Wu.”
Steadfast to the end, they could not be daunted.
Their bodies were stricken, but their souls have taken Immortality—
Captains among the ghosts, heroes among the dead.

Chao favors his sword Xùnjié the most. It was gifted to him by the head of the Assassin’s Guild, Ytzhak Kelmin. The Brotherhood of the Hand will always be his family. He has bled for them and sacrificed quite a bit. The brotherhood has also paid him back in spades. He does wish to return to them one day soon.

Jhang Chao would choose old age as a means of death. But given his chosen profession may provide other opportunities. To die in battle would be much more pleasing to the young warrior from the Jade Kingdom.

Biography:

Chao was born in the Shaodong Province of the Jade Kingdom over two thousand miles east of the Twilight City of Teluval. His parents were poor dirt farmers working for a local governor as share croppers. They could live on the land and have food to survive if they worked the land for the land owner. Jhong Li and Jhong Mei were happy with their lot in life and bore five sons to help till the land. Their second youngest child Jhong Chao was not happy to work land for a disinterested land baron, leaving the family hovel when he was twelve years of age to make his own way in the world.

As children, Chao and his brothers practiced unarmed combat, developing their own skills. Well, they fought just like any group of brothers in the world. It was their thing to do. They admired adult warriors who occasionally marched through their region. It seemed there was always a war going on when Chao was a boy. It was commonplace to see warriors marching or corpses laying uncovered on one of the fields his family tended.

Chao wanted to fight as a warrior, learning what skills he could. When he was 13, he challenged a known warrior to a duel and defeated the man, leaving his bloody corpse in the mud armed with nothing more than a four-foot length of bamboo. He was embarrassed only slightly by his victory; being revealed as a warrior to those who gathered around to watch. For fear of repercussions, he hid himself in a nearby forest.

Hunger brought him back into the civilized world. He learned a knack for picking pockets and picking locks. He found or made small tools to be used as a lock picking set. If he could not earn enough money to buy food, if he could not hunt for sufficient meals, he would resort to thievery, stealing whatever he needed to survive.

As a teenager, he found a martial arts school in Hyosung, a major city in Western Shaodong. The masters of the school saw potential in young Jhang Chao agreeing to train him in unarmed combat. He acquired rudimentary skills on his own, but they refined his abilities. He trained at the school for eight years before being kicked out after it was discovered he pilfered gold coins from the school’s treasury.

As a student of the Fudong School, Chao fought several duels against rival schools, never losing a fight. A few of his matches ended in the death of an opponent. Chao acquired a reputation as a skilled warrior. He was rewarded handsomely for his fights with gold which he gambled away or spent on over-priced armor and weapons. He retained the armor and weapons to this day. He carried a short sword and several daggers as well as a bo staff of bamboo and nunchakus. He even purchased a state of the art lock picking set when he traveled further west.

He was humiliated by his expulsion from the Fudong school, drawing dishonor upon himself. Furthermore, the Fudong brothers sought revenge for the dishonor Chao brought to their school. They sent twelve of their best students to hunt down Jhang Chao and to kill him for his betrayal. They knew Chao was a skilled warrior, but not even he was a match for twelve of his former brothers.

The Fudong warriors met him in a bamboo grove challenging him to an uneven duel. Chao drew his sword and held firm to a nine-inch dagger in his left hand. He had developed his own two-sword technique he practiced regularly. In this instance, the dagger served as the second sword. He used it to block and stab, while the primary weapon parried and slashed. He moved with fluidity from attacker to attacker consuming twenty minutes of his time and twelve souls claimed for the gods above. It was a true test of his skill with his martial abilities. He never heard from the Fudong brothers again, but avoids returning to Hyosung in Western Shaodong.

Chao gradually worked his way west, moving from the Jade Kingdom to other human lands, picking up work as a thief, mercenary or as an assassin as he found it. His wealth should have grown, if it weren’t for his uncontrollable thirst for gambling. Chao was a risk taker and only happy when he lays it all on the line. The thrill of coming close to death mades him feel euphoric. It is a natural high, he can never quench the thirst for risk and gambling.

In conjunction with his martial arts training, Chao is excellent in the use of several weapons including daggers, throwing knives, short sword, Kamas, Nunchukas, bo staff, shuriken (throwing stars), hand spikes, foot claws and tonfa. He does not always carry these weapons, but if they are made available to him, he can handle them with some mastery.

He happened upon the city of Goldung, some five hundred miles east of Teluval, the Twilight City. He was 25 years of age at the time and spent a few years here training with an old wizard named Kragus who aided Chao in learning the art of subterfuge. The wizard taught him how to move stealthily, use shadows for concealment, locate objects, and find secret passages. The art of subterfuge, the ways of a silent warrior were the skills he learned in Goldung. The old wizard also drew on the young man’s magical abilities. Kragus knew Chao had hidden talents and Chao learned to develop them to suit the role he was creating for himself. Chao never knew how to harness them or to draw them out. Kragus taught Chao to use dancing lights, to vanish and to create darkness. The more he practiced these skills, the more his hair lightened because of this path down what some might call a dark path. Eventually, Chao’s black locks turned completely white. Even the addition of a beard and mustache is completely white as are his eyebrows.

Chao continued his martial arts training in Goldung using the skills Kragus taught him to hone his skills. He developed a technique he calls cheap shot. When positioned in the rear of an opponent, his damage inflicted is doubled and there is a chance roughly every ten strikes or so when his opponent is stunned, unable to defend himself for roughly five seconds. Chao need not think about it, it simply happens. He can also strike an opponent on the head causing what he calls a sap. This sap causes the opponent to be stunned for five full minutes. The opponent cannot move or take any action whatsoever for the duration of the sap. If someone hits him, the stunning effect of the sap is dispelled and the target can resume whatever action he intended to perform.

When Chao was 27 years old, he said good-bye to his friend, Kragus continuing west. He took on jobs as a mercenary, assassin or thief from various governors, barons, kings and others throughout his travels. In the city of Belsun, he joined an assassin’s guild known as the The Brotherhood of the Hand. They helped him to perfect the skills he learned in Goldung and he shared his skills he learned during his life. He gained several positive contacts with the Brotherhood of the Hand; good friends. Ytzhak Kelmin, the guild leader taught him some basics of the use of poisons, but he never got very far with this lesson before he found himself even further to the west, entering the City of Twilight, Teluval.

At age 31, Jhang Chao feels confident in his abilities as an assassin and thief. He has killed many over the years and is willing to steal to survive. The occupation he chose for himself is quite different than the quest he set out upon nineteen years earlier, dissatisfied with the life his parents chose for him.

[Mokley]

Saoirse

Name: Saoirse Lockwillow
Race: Human
Age: 31
Profession: Tinkerer and Treasure Hunter
Inventory: A pair of leather-bound spark-protective goggles with several magnifying lenses, a long gray scarf, a string necklace threaded with a dozen different keys, a tarnished necklace chain with a heavy compass pendant, a pair of nimble leather gloves, a ball of twine, a set of small wrenches, a set of small screwdrivers, a lockpicking kit, a set of pliers and tweezers, a set of needles and pins, a small ceramic bowl, an oil lantern and oil, several short candles, a small supply of chalk, a long hunting knife, a paring knife, a long rope, a supply of dried fish, several lidded jars, a canteen, a set of playing cards, a set of dice, a sturdy leather backpack.

Description:
Saoirse's scrappy stature and bright grin often get her mistaken for a child, which error she'll be quick to turn to her advantage. She's a practiced liar and storyteller when there's something she wants -- and there is always something she wants. The secrets of the world before the Obliteration -- the civilizations that created the automatons -- call to Saoirse out of the old ruins and the deep black forests. She is confident she will be the one to discover the lost techniques of the ancient tinkerers; she is, after all, willing to go where few in her field would dare.

At first glance, Saoirse is a boyish, quick little tinkerer with a mess of gray-brown hair and loose cotton clothes and hard leather boots suited for mountain-climbing and machine-clambering; the goggles, the key collection, and the burn marks on her hands and forearms confess her profession. She is nimble and strong, proud to show muscle gained from lifting heavy machinery, eager to demonstrate her getaway speed.

What is your character's crime?

Technically the long list of crimes include trespassing, theft, impersonation and various forms of cheating -- but her only regret is the accidental and irreparable sabotage of her mentor's Great Machine, after which she ran away, determined never to return until she could bring back something truly remarkable.

Favorite poem?

Ancient and twisted the willow tree sings
Tick, tock, tick
A glow in the water, a light in the wood
Tock, tick, tock
In the eye of the rook
The heart of the stone
The life-machine whispers
Tick, tock

What do you treasure most?

The keys. One of them unlocks something from her childhood, another in her father's house, another in her mentor's attic. There's a key for every place she could ever return to -- and she must, if she will ever return the key. There are other keys to locks she has yet to discover -- and that's just more reason to keep looking.

Given the choice, how would you die?

Drowning seems like a less painful, less messy way to die than most other options. Not-dying is much more preferable, though.

[PrivateVentures]

Dali the Dream Painter

Name: Durandal, “Dali the Dream-Painter"*

Race: Ophidian

Profession: Bard

Age: 22, (mid thirties, in human years)

Magic:
Minor Spells
Hallucination- Causes a target to see and hear visions of Dali's choosing, so long as the target can hear Dali's voice or guitar. If the song or story is interrupted, or if the target is unable to hear Dali's voice or guitar, the spell is broken.

Pacification- Induces a target with extreme relaxation, to the point of incapacitation, so long as the target can hear Dali's voice or guitar. If the song or story is interrupted, or if the target is unable to hear Dali's voice or guitar, the spell is broken.

Major Spell:
The Epoch's Epic- An ancient magic exclusive to Ophidian Bards, passed from one bard to the next, generally from a master to an apprentice. Summons the spirits of dead Ophidian heroes and villains of lore to Dali's defense, serving as bodyguards or soldiers, or even as entertainment. Spirits last so long as Dali can hear his own voice or guitar. If he is unable to hear his own song or story or is interrupted, the spell is broken. Spell can only be cast once per week, with some situational exceptions, primarily regarding the blessing of a Holy Serpent. With that blessing, the spell can be cast as many times as desired for so long as the blessing is in effect, (requires proximity to the blesser).

Desription:
Tall, a good 6'1", covered in scales of varying shades of green, a coat of tropical camoflage. His tail is an additional 7'9", extremely long for his species, and though his family has a history of long tails, his surpasses all others. It is a point of pride for him, similar to phallic size for human males. His back bears a line of dark green and brown spikes, not for defense, but for both temperature sensitivity as well as a deeper interaction with the world's magnetic poles, giving him and his kin exceptional sense of direction, similar to the method birds use for migration. He generally wears an old brown duster coat and matching wide brimmed hat, simply for protection from the sun when he is too warm. He wears his guitar on his back, and his knife on the strap. His chain he keeps coiled around his arm, or tied onto his beaten leather rucksack. His claws are brown, some with a vein of white running through them, and are long and sharp on one hand and both feet. His left hand's claws are filed down, generally with a rock, so that he can play his guitar without breaking the strings. His eyes are almost always wide, the reptilian smile, and his head always cocked, a reptilian mannerism for curiosity, so eager is he to gather material for his life's all-important yet technically useless work.

Biography:
Durandal grew up in a large family, even by Ophidian standards. His brothers and sisters proved to be capable soldiers, mercernaries, bodyguards, hitmen, even some negotiators. All were important, all bore reasonably high social status. Dali was left in the dust, until he discovered his niche.

He began telling stories in the town square. First, just to other children. Then adults began to gather. Gradually, he had a daily crowd, buying him drinks, throwing money at him, into his vase, his lap, until he had become one of the wealthiest citizens in town, the envy of his siblings. His grandfather, the last bard his family had ever borne, was dying for most of Dali’s childhood. He gifted to Dali a guitar on his deathbed, saying “Storytelling ain’t a career. You wanna keep it up, be a bard. And a bard ain’t a bard without music.”

Dali took this to heart, earning him the nickname “Dream-Painter”*.

He coasted for years until his 22nd birthday, the same age his grandfather was when he got sick. He told a tale, to a great crowd on the outskirts of the empire, of a mighty emperor who oppressed his people. The people let him do it, for a long, long time. But one day, a small boy stood up against the Emperor's secret police, and his parents joined in. Soon, the whole village was in uproar against the tyrant. Then the city. Then, the empire. They overthrew the emperor and brought about an age of prosperity. Needless to say, the real emperor was not happy. It was time for a change anyway.

Dali now must undertake a journey, one he may not return from. But, even if he dies, one thing is for certain: it’ll be a damn good story.

Psychological Evaluation:
Dali, as he prefers to be called, is, plain and simply, a storyteller. He claims to be the last of a long line of Ophidian royalty, a prince among lizards. He claims to be able to weave magic spells with his guitar and his stories, conjuring up otherworldy gods and conversing with them. He claims to have once slain a troll with a song.

In the end, he is not a liar. He is a storyteller, and that is the key difference. A liar deserves guilt for their deception. For a storyteller, skilled deception is not only part of the job, but the job. Dali is not a fighter, but he can scrap with the best, earning him a nickname in his hometown: “Dali the Dream-Bringer”. Preferring to be known for his stories, he spread that his nickname was “Dream-Painter, and now no one agrees what it started as. Clearly, he has a flair for not only the telling of a story, but the story itself. After all, as he often says, “Story’s only as good as the journey that made it.”

Dali’s interests include: Laying out in the sun, playing songs, telling stories, eating, and laying out in the moonlight.
Equipment:

Black Ironwood Acoustic Guitar, custom made, egg shaped body, diamond-shaped sound hole, brown leather sling. The guitar is well-built and strong enough to deflect blows if need be, or even be used as a shield, if it came to it.

Three empty scrolls for recording stories and songs that were particularly good. Each is in its own leather pouch.

15 ft. Chain whip, barbed tri-point grappling hook on the end for combat and traversal, generally tied with leather string onto Dali's rucksack or coiled around his arm. He is skilled with it both as a weapon and a method of climbing. The hook's great weight allows the tool to be used like a barbed flail, and the long chain gives it great range.

Rucksack, primarily filled with fruit and dried meats, also containing a box of 35 34 matches, a little flint firestarter, and a little clay tube pipe and cleaning kit. He also carries with him a magnifying glass, in the event that he runs out of everything else.

Folding polished steel mirror, for sunbathing. He also uses it sometimes as a tray when rolling one of his cigars.

A bag of birdseed, as songbirds make very good snacks. His birdseed can also attract mice fairly well.

Quadruple-sized Water Sack, as a reptilian is quite prone to dehydration on the road. This is his heaviest possession, next to his guitar.

A pouch of seeds, from a variety of fruit trees. He plants them as he walks, and always extracts the seeds from any fruit he eats.

Ophidian ceremonial knife, given, as per tradition, on his twelfth birthday, his first day of adulthood. He has carried this with him for ten years. It is half serrated, with a ‘Dragon’s Tooth’ curved tip, designed for hooking, slashing, and gouging. It also makes an excellent carving knife and fruit peeler, as Dali has found.

A pouch of herbs, which he rolls into accompanying leaves and smokes as cigars when relaxing or entertaining. They are petals from a secret flower that grows only in the Empire. It is a commonly smoked herb among Ophidians for spiritual purposes, and is known to induce relaxation and euphoria, even in humans. He carries also a larger bag in the bottom of his rucksack from which he refills his pouch.

Goals:
He desires to return home with the greatest story ever told, an epic to be resung for centuries. He believes that this will grant him true immortality: a legacy.
Dislikes:
Birds of prey, predatory fish, eating birds of prey or predatory fish, hecklers

What is your crime?
"I am no criminal. My only crime is bringing hope, inspiration, angst, fear or sadness, depending on the demographic.
Your most treasured item?
"My tail, undoubtably. My brother lost his, and I am terrified."
Your favorite poem?
"Something I wrote a long time ago. Hang on, it's in here somewhere. Nope. Ah well. I'll find it later."

How would you like to die?
"In any way that would reach my family. Especially if it's shocking or horrifying. Bonus score if I also die heroically."

Special Notes: Dali is a conduit, as have been every bard in his family's lineage, for an Old God known as Zsaakeo/Frmeidr. In the throes of his passion, the God is known to take hold of his body in order to interact with the living people. He is not aware of this fact, nor is he ever likely to notice it. In fact, he believes that he was abandoned by his god, when he was exiled. His grandfather never knew, his great-grandmother never knew, and his great-great-great grandfather never discovered it either. Unlike his ancestors, however, Dali's faith is pristine. Despite his belief that Zsaakeo no longer hears him, he prays often, on many occasions using his prayer to work his magic. Little does he know, the prayer amplifies his power, allowing Pacification to become potentially lethal, and Hallucination to be potentially permanent. This is an extremely rare occasion, generally requiring that Dali be under threat of imminent death for Zsaakeo to intervene. When Zsaakeo does intervene, Dali seems to become a shadow-lizard, growing several feet taller and sprouting six other arms and two other heads. Those who have seen this attest to extremely disturbing images flashing through their minds, almost too quickly to fully register. Almost.

Zsaakeo has taken Dali's body on only two occasions, once as a child, once at the Squished Fish. Though he was in no danger at the Squished Fish, the specific notes he played called to his god. And Zsaakeo always watches over the faithful.

Frequent Quotes:

"Sure as scales"

"Walloped"

"Snorf Snorf"

"Caterpillars are delicious/ taste incredible/ gotta find me some caterpillars/ caterpillar-good"

"Wanna hear somethin' crazy?"

"If I had an inch for every _______ ___ _______, my tail could be its own snake."

"I got a song for that."

"You ever wonder if ________."

"That tastes awful. Really awful."

"Go on, eat it."

"You'll never know unless you try it."

"Wanna hear a stupid story? Your career. Slap."

"Snakes talk funny."

Intro Description:
As Dali rounded over the hill, he heard his father in the back of his head, past all the songs, and the story he was making up specifically for an automaton audience. "How're you gonna sssurvive? Gonna sssing sssongsss all your life? How ya gonna find a mate? Tellin' ssstoriesss? No girlsss' gonna think you could protect her! Or her brood! Embarrasssssment! Now you've ssshamed the family in front of the emperor! Get your thingsss! You no longer have my name. Leave! EXsssILE!"

Deep down, he remembered how the guards had waited for him outside. He'd collected his things. His entire collection of worldly possessions could fit on his back. He'd always done everything he could for the family, given all his water-rations and money to his home, to be doled out to his younger siblings. He remembered all of this, and the way his father had shouted at him. And all his high and mighty brothers and sisters and all their holier-than-thou mates and their perfect little children-

Of course! He thought. Automatons love tragedies! That's it! Grumblers like them, too, right? I can never tell. The sun was just reaching its peak, so Dali removed his hat. There was a lone dead tree and a big, flat rock on the hill. Just perfect.

He lay on the flat rock, carefully folding his coat, and placing his hat on it. His rucksack went on top of that, only on his hat's brim, to hold it down, but not to crumple it. He sighed as a slight breeze rolled in, but otherwise, the air was still. Not a cloud in the sky. Absolutely perfect. He tugged a pouch out of his rucksack, a soft little brown thing, packed with fluffy herbs and dry leaves. He gently removed a leaf, careful not to rip it, and folded it in his left hand, making sure to keep his claws out of the picture. He passed it to his right hand, and pulled out a little pinch of herbs, sprinkling them into the paper in a gradual line. Needed a little more. Satisfied, he extends a long, forked tongue, and places the leaf's edge just between his tongue-tendrils, leaving a line of sticky saliva soaking into the leaf's surface. He tucked the dry edge underneath, and rolled a tight cone, just enough airflow, with practiced technique.

He slipped a little box of matches from his bag, and with surgical precision, extracted a single match with his claws. He put the cigar in his mouth and tasted the leaf. Sssweet. He rubbed his left hand's claws on the rock with great vigor, filing them down flat, before gripping the match head in between them and squeezing.

KKZZZZkksshh!

He puffed gently as his cigar caught the flame. Sweet lemon-pine smoke filled his mouth and nostrils. He inhaled deeply, and coughed a bit. Sure as scales, this is nice. He took up his guitar and began to strum simple chords, just enjoying the sun on his scales.

C- C- C- G- G- G- Am- Am- Am- G- C- C- C- G- Em- Am
He was high up, on a hill over a hill over a flat mountain, and the mist below filled the valley like water. A thin wooden bridge, a snake of splinters and nails, serves as the road beyond. Make a good start for a story. 'In the company of friends, high on a hilltop above a sea of mist, where black shadows dance around green lights at midnight, the road ahead stretches far, a serpent with no end. But there is an end, yes, and it is more terrible than any of us could have imagined.' "Oh yeah." He says to no one in particular. "That's good."

Sample Passages:

• The fire was hot, and bright. It lit gaunt shadows across the face of every listener. Dali's face became a lantern, lit by the cherry on his cigar while he spun his ancient magic. The crickets chirped, and a distant murmur floated on the wind, the mass whispering of the Grumblers in the valley. His claws clicked on his guitar strings as he played a slow, sad and steady tune, a melody that evolved quickly from melancholy to sinister in the darkness. Fireflies glowed in the distance, fairy lights that lent credence to his story. The group leaned in, pacified, dark shadows growing smaller in the light cast by the flames. The little ring of rocks around their small campfire cast darkness into their laps where they sat. It all came together into a little world of darkness where the only inhabitants were these pale faces and everything that lay beyond was alive, the hallucinogenic unknown.
  
  Dali spoke softly, and they leaned in close to hear.
  "Many deny the existence of pure evil. They say it is subjective. They say that without an entity to represent evil, its qualities cannot be truly defined. Yet, we can identify evil when we see it. That is because evil does, in fact, have a manifestation. In these very hills. The Grumblers have seen it. You can still hear its name if you listen to their nonsense closely enough. It's all they ever talk about." Something rustled in the brush below the hill. The whispering in the valley seemed to grow louder.
  
  "It has no face, but is the face of everyone you've ever known. Just for cruelty's sake. Those who know of It live in terror, of seeing It in the mist, of hearing It, calling their name." A voice rang out below the hill, but the sound of the Grumblers in the distance drowned out its words. "They fear death. But it is not death that It brings." There were soft, slow footsteps coming up the side of the hill, crunching on old leaves and dry brush. "It has long, thin arms, for reaching deep into hiding places. Its skin is black as tar, and its feet have long talons, like a vulture." Something black fluttered into the tree above, then, in an instant, it was gone. "They can rend a man's soul from his body. But It cares little for your soul. It stands tall as a tree, and thin as Death himself." The old dead tree groaned and leaned, but there was no wind. "And sometimes, it calls a name. When it calls your name, you have no choices. There is only to obey. You have no choice. Your legs will walk, and your mouth will scream, but you can make no sound. Your eyes will roll back in your head when you behold It. Description can give It no justice." Dali stood, and his voice grew louder and louder, his song's tempo increasing, a deep crescendo. "Your heart will jump to action, faster and faster and faster and FASTER AND FASTER AND FASTER until you can take no more. Your brain will turn to jelly, and your mind, your mind will scream as it peels you apart from the soul up. You will feel everything. You will feel every memory it reaps, every lost love it devours, every childhood nightmare it dredges up." The whispering rose to a dull roar in the background, maddening white noise.
  
  "And you will weep. You will weep for everything you've lost, and more, for everything you've learned.
  
  Well, The End! Good night!"
  
  Dali tugged his coat over him, and rolled onto his stomach, kicking out his arms and legs and letting loose a satisfied sigh.
  
  Notes:
  
  Currently at Squished Fish, waiting to play a show, sitting with Chao and Saiorse. Hungover. Has acquired an Erstwhile coin.
  
  About to sit up, greet the two newcomers, wonder at the wizard, order a drink, and have to chug said drink as his show starts.
  
  Just completed his show, ran out to follow Chao and Chama
  
  Challenged Chama, currently laying on the ground, avoiding swift death, and praying desperately.

[Goldeagle1221]

Cole = me
Charlie = Solamelike

The Crumb Brothers

@Goldeagle1221

Name: “Sir Cole Crumb” or just Cole to his friends
Race: Human
Profession: “fighter”
Magic: Who needs it, amirite
Inventory: A noble’s arming sword and shield, a rich fitted dagger, back pack of toiletries and rations, waterskin, hidden purse, hauberk and bloodied/burned tabard over rich clothes, inconspicuous pocket purse of torque wrenches and lock picks amid other breaking in gadgetries.
Description:

Tall and athletic if not on the slightly thin side, he is a stone cut example of a hero. With piercing chestnut eyes and long sandy hair he looks like he crawled out of a story for better or worse. He wears a charming grin that might even be seen as devilish. He is clean shaven and bears the accent of the poor, but bears it with a pride that almost emulates confidence.

He wears a noble's outfit of red and blues under a shining hauberk and a singed tabard that lays evidence to his many deeds often sung about in his brother’s tales.

Silver tongued and always quick in a conversation. Often found laughing with his brother who shares his quickness for a joke.


The Lie
Sir Cole and his brother are mighty heroes of poem and prose. Having fought many abominations and saved many a settlement, they are something of a legend, particularly Sir Cole, whom the many poems tell tale about.

They go from town to town, saving the day and mingling with the many fans. Often they are invited to lavish feasts and noble halls. Sir Cole is quite the shining knight, and his brother quite the master minstrel!

The Reality

Expert Con-men, the two Crumb brothers grew up as urchins, where they learned the great art of robbing people blind in all sorts of fashions, their favorite being the silver tongued method. One such con got them in trouble with a local knight, an Old man whose name is lost in time by now. Luckily the man was compassionate and hired the two as pages in his troup. Cole being an hour older than Charlie was taken as the knight’s squire and taught many knightly things and skills, while his brother continued his quest of music that had started many a year ago.

Eventually and rather quickly actually, the old knight keeled over one day and cracked his head open on a passerby rock. The two con-teens at the time took this to their advantage and stole the old knights gear and crafted the tale of the hero Sir Cole Crumb, beginning their long journey of lies and sweet undeserved rewards. After all, why use the talents and gear bestowed upon them for heroic activities when it is so much easier to just say you did?

Optional Questions:
What is your character’s crime? -- Liar, cheat, illiteracy, and other high crimes and misdemeanors.
Favorite poem? -- Those written by his brother
What do you treasure most? -- Treasure
Given the choice, how would you die? -- Dunno how but the day his brother dies is the when
-------------------------

@Solamelike

Name: Charlie Crumb
Race: Human
Profession: Bard
Magic: None
Inventory: Lute, Harmonica,blow dart gun (looks like a flute), Small fold knife, lockpick set, 10 feet of rope, tinderbox, Rapier.

Description:
A cheerful man, making light out of any situation.
Average Height, Slightly underweight, with brown eyes and dirty blonde scruffy hair.
Wears a poncho which covers most of his upper body, underneath reveals scraps of leather and belts that could in a pinch be classified as “armour”, and traditional shirt and pants. The most striking part of his outfit would either be his hat, a wide brimmed stetson, or his leather boots that look like they are worth more than his entire ensemble of items and clothing put together.

Optional Questions:
What is your characters crime?
Liar, cheat, and other high crimes and misdemeanors.

Favorite poem?
Sir Cole Crumb
Sir Cole Crumb of dashing fame!
Sir Cole Crumb dragons he maims!
Sir Cole Crumb gets all of the dames
Sir Cole Crumb we love you!

Who defeated the monsters of the east?
Sir Cole Crumb! Sir Cole Crumb!
Who stopped the wretched horrible beasts?
Sir Cole Crumb! Sir Cole Crumb!
Who will you invite to your feasts?
Sir Cole Crumb! Sir Cole Crumb!
Sir Cole Crumb we love you!

What do you treasure most?
My boots… oh and my brother I suppose.

Given the choice, how would you die?
Side by side with his brother

[Darach]

Chamailéontas

Name: Chamailéontas (Chama for short)

Race: Human

Profession: Wizard

Age: 27

Biography:

As a child, Chamailéontas was known as Jaled. He was raised by his father, a Wizard hellbent on retrieving the worlds most precious treasure, and his mother, a simple house wife of sorts. He was too young then to understand his father's ambitions, but soon after they would become the cause of both of his parent's death.

One night thieves stole into their home and murdered them in their sleep. It was rumored to be an assassination set to kill Jaled's father for stepping over the treasure hunters code and taking that which he did not acquire of his own skills. Found alone by some towns people, he was swept off to an orphanage with what remained of his fathers things. He did not enjoy his experiences there. This caused him to run away and subsequently wander aimlessly for days. Until one day, an Ophidian assassin spotted him and decided not to end him as he normally would a hopeless little runt. Instead he took him in and trained him in the art of assassination. Once Jaled came of age he accepted the name Chamailéontas meaning chameleon. Considering he looks like a human wizard and uses magic but fights like an Ophidian assassin, its fitting.

From then till present, he has traversed the lands and has taken contracts both small and big. Whether it was murder or treasure hunting, he had a taste for adventure and vengeance. He remembered the pain he felt when his family was killed. One thing is still certain, he will find the people who killed his father and use their corpse as he pleases. He swears by it! Although he doesn't speak on it often.

Magic:

• Ignite-- A minor spell-- used to summon fire as a weapon or as defense. The magic is within a ring left to him by his father.
• Smolder -- A minor spell-- used to summon clouds of extremely hot ash from the mouth as a defense or diversion. This magic was self taught from the books his father left him on The Wheel.
• Reanimate --A Major Spell-- (Once per day) Revive a recently killed creature that is in a line of sight of caster. When casting the spell, you must issue a simple command (defend ____ , attack ____ etc.) . The target will attempt to perform this command for the duration of the spell (up to 5 minutes) even if it leads to their destruction. If no command is given, the creature will attempt to attack the nearest living thing. The creature turns to ash and dissipates once the spell has ended.

Inventory:

• Dual serrated Scythe with chain adorned with bejeweled skulls on the hilts, retrieved from his Ophidian trainer.
• Leather water flask (self-replenishing) acquired from his fathers belongings left to him upon his demise.
• One satchel filled with dried meats and berries.
• Metal flask filled with [indescribable] fluid used to quell major magic's adverse effects (only goes so far).
• Metal flask filled with multi purpose oil.
• Large leather chain bound book with a wheel on the front. The pages noticeably shines a hint of red whether the book is open or closed.
• Small leather bound book used for daily writing and epiphany.
• Small silver mirror with a visual spell magically sewn into it. Gives the ability to see any one living being in your given plane of reality. Found during one of the many treasure hunts Chama has been on.
• Rock candy. *Because a serious man needs a little bit of joy*

Description:
Chama stands at 5'11, with broad shoulder, golden brown skin, and fiery red hair in two braids that crown and fall free to the back of his head. This hair hidden by a hooded cloak, mostly so as not to draw suspension, due to the fact that improperly taught magic dyes the hair permanently to the color of the wheel you are bound to.
He is quite brooding. As he should be, considering he was taught beneath the tutelage of a Ophidian assassin. His reflexes are swift and is often seen checking the surroundings in plan for a possible ambush. Although, through all this menace, he is still human and does enjoy a little bit of happiness. Only enough to sustain him, that is all.


Optional Questions: There are no wrong or right answers, and you may interpret questions as you please.

What is your characters crime?
** The need for vengeance and The murder that comes of it.

What do you treasure most?
** A real Trust, one bound by soul ties and not by love's false ideals of grandeur.

Given the choice, how would you die?
** With the throat of my enemy crushed between my fingers.

[Exit]

GruSum

Name: Gru
Race: Grumbler
Profession: Fighter
Inventory: Epsum and Epsum's pack.
Description:
Gru is a smaller giant by comparison to others of his kin but at a height of 8 feet he is still a towering and imposing figure to most. Like the majority of his race, he is of grey coloration with skin like sheets of rock flaked around his arms, chest, shoulders and down the length of his back. They function like armor and as these "plates" fall off over time or from some other means of abuse, they are slowly replaced. They're also quite itchy and Gru will often be seen scratching at their callous surface and picking at the skin around their base. Gru is slightly heavier than other's of his kind given his shorter stature but stands more upright than most despite his stout belly. From his waist hangs simple yet worn leather and hide wrappings that offer some form of modesty despite the rest of his body being almost entirely naked. It stops just above the knee and is thick enough to deter small or dull blades and some projectiles.

Gru has a soft round face that is only slightly chiseled around the chin and nose. His head is entirely devoid of hair and over his left eye and brow is a noticeable and vertical scar. However, with the large white pupiless eyes not unlike that of a child, some of his kin actually see him as adorable.

Across his torso is a rather magnificently emblazoned tattoo of black color. Though it's specific history and meaning has been lost over time, the beauty in it's design is readily apparent. A sunburst of sorts with black rays that split into multiple pieces of blocky uniform shapes. They travel out to the midsection of his front and back in a patterned unison.

Fashioned to his back is a cradle of sorts. Leather straps have been slung over the giant's shoulders and across his midsection and hold his automaton in place. Riveted to these straps is the hide and leather satchel where the machine's torso rests. With no further room left in the cradle, it's right arm rests loosely to the side next to the pack that carries his belongings and it's head sits above it all. At first glance, Gru simply looks like a Grumbler and a pack full of treasures... or full of trash trash.

Due to events preceding this journey, Gru has also lost the ability to speak coherently and has settled for moans and groans and shrugs as his primary form of communication.

Optional Questions:
What is your characters crime? Ignorance
Favorite poem? The words once used to describe the beauty of the poems Gru once wrote has long since been lost to him.
What do you treasure most? Greens mostly... and Epsum?
Given the choice, how would you die? Epsum asked him once. Gru just shrugged.

Name: Epsum AKA Sum
Race: Automaton
Profession: Tinkerer

Inventory:

• Luna Stella
  
  A magically infused pistol that summons ammunition and does not require a reload. The "magazine" holds up to six rounds and takes about one minute to summon a replacement. Any kind of external force that cancels magic will render the weapon unable to reload. Cannot be fed conventional munitions."
• Variety of tinkered explosives including:
  
  -Plantable charge x1
  -Smoke bomb x2
  -Flash bomb x2
  -Stun bomb x2
  -Noisemaker x2
  -Bomb x1
• Variety of scavenged Automaton parts including:
  
  -Small arm x1
  -Small leg x1
  -Cogs x10
  -Rivets x20
  -Bolts x20
  -Bundle of wire x10
  -Bulb x2
  -Small chip board x10
  -Medium chip board x5
  -Large chip board x1
  -Small magnet x5
  -Fuse x20
• Variety of consumables for sale including:
  
  -Small water skin x5
  -Adrenaline syringe (Military grade) x5
  -Blister pack of two pills worth one days nutritional value x5
  -Suture kit x2
• SLAP
  
  The Surveyor of Land and Air Partner. Top left of Epsum's head (tip of head down to just below the left eye) can detach and be dispatched to survey an area. This half cannot communicate save for "blinking" of the eye but can be used to scout out a path ahead or lead someone back to him. SLAP can be separated for as long as needed and is often used to help Gru find food.
• Coin Purse - 500gp
  
  Given the nature of his skill, he can and has made a pretty penny. Given the nature of his condition, he doesn't make it as fast as he would like.

Description:
Epsum is an Automaton. What was once a machine who stood tall among his peers has since been reduced to nothing more than his upper torso, his head and his right hand. The rest of his body has been lost to oblivion never to be recovered. By some unknown means he's found himself fused to the back of Gru, his wires and metal casing having become entangled in the plates protruding from the giant's back and some of the clockwork that at one time gave his legs life are now fixed permanently to his host. The entire network of wires, metal and plates aren't the easiest on the eyes and so to compensate, Epsum, with the help of Gru, fashioned a cradle of sorts. Leather straps have been slung over the giant's shoulders and across his midsection and hold the automaton in place. Riveted to these straps is the hide and leather satchel where Epsum's torso rests and where the gruesome nature of their bond is hidden from prying eyes. With no further room left in the cradle, his right arm rests loosely to the side next to the pack that carries their combined belongings and his head simply sits atop it all, an ever watchful sentinel and an over talkative parasite. At first glance, the pair do not appear to be a pair at all but one Grumbler and a pack full of treasures... or full of trash trash.

Hanging from the pack and stuffed inside is a collection of automaton parts that "Gru" sells for coin among other things. Some of the pieces are used for self repair while the most valuable are collected and kept. During his down time, Epsum will often fashion objects from the parts he's collected, tapping into ancient and ageless knowledge to create simple reinventions from a time long forgotten. Perhaps you need a spoon that can turn into a small knife. Maybe you need goggles that protect from dust but also allow you to see the world hidden away on it's surface. Maybe you just need new shoes... that make you jump twice as high as you could before. Epsum knows how to make these things... with the right materials and of course the right price.

Epsum is made of a durable metal alloy that is a few shades lighter than his larger rocky host. Much less humanoid than his upgraded and better preserved counterparts, Epsum sports a rather blocky head with eyes hidden behind thin sheets of metal that slide vertically and act as his eye lids. His pupils light up as does his mouth when he speaks, even when there are no "lips" to physically represent his voice. Epsum is also very vocal and will usually talk for the both himself and Gru. He has a healthy sense of humor than can at times be dry but is meant as a way to help make others feel comfortable around the two.

Optional Questions:
What is your characters crime?
It's specific enough that it haunts him but is not enough to deter him from his end game. He has one last project to complete and if that means he'd have to do what he did second time, he would in a heartbeat... if he had one. To be extremely vague, it's considered a crime against humanity.

Favorite poem?
Not one to dabble in the art of the tongue, Epsum normally doesn't take to such sweet pleasantries. However, every now and again, Epsum has caught Gru... humming. A soft and gentle tune that although formless and naturally lost in translation to Epsum's less inspired mind, conjures the need words to coalesce. As if willed on it's own... a story begins to unfold but is left unfinished with Epsum at the end of the pen.

A hand made of stone,
A day and a night,
A little alone,
A little more light.

What do you treasure most? His other half.
Given the choice, how would you die? Giving birth to new life.