[CHAR] The Broken Drum - Casual drop-in chat for out-of-work adventurers

[SimplyJohn]

Name: Georafolexian the Gargantuan, Warmaster of the Seven Plains, Slayer of Dragons, Drinker of Kings' Blood, Unholiest of Unholies, 'Geoff' to his friends.

Race: Daemon-spawned Half-Troll

Class: Barman (formerly War Necromancer, now retired)

Alignment: Lawful Good (formerly Chaotic Evil, but now reformed)

Biography: Georafolexian the Gargantuan first came to be after his former master, the archmagus Phil the Pointless, summoned him into being by performing a dark rite involving 300 virgin brides kidnapped on their wedding nights, 200 freshly spawned orcs blessed with prestigious 'equipment' and 99 soul-broken paladins driven mad with carnal desires.¹

The beast he was led a bloody campaign of terror across twelve kingdoms, slaughtering kings and raping their wives and daughters, in the process giving birth to the Three Unholy Abominations.²

When Phil decided to storm the gates of Hell to seize control of the damned souls within in order to raze the world with his unholy might Georafolexian finally realised the man he'd come to know as his father might not be entirely sane,³ and after a brief chat over the body of a freshly slaughtered undead dragon the two came to the mutual understanding that Georafolexian would no longer be joining his dad's mad schemes for power. Taking half the treasures the armies had seized⁴ Geoff bought the small tavern which became the Broken Drum and hung his Warstaff of Unknowing up over the mantle for good. Apart for the one time he caught a man with his hands in Hilda's drawers.⁵

Favourite Drink: It's a toss-up between the blood of a recently married virgin or peach schnapps, although given the rarity of procuring such a beverage Geoff often has to make do with the blood.

_{1 - And a bard named Ernie who happened to wander in at the wrong time, looking to directions to the nearest potion shop.
2 - Also known as Pete, Dave and Cyril. Pete is now a farmer in the Low Plains, producing some of the best turnips in the lands; Dave is a builder of some renown, specialising in decorative windmills, and Cyril became an errant accountant, travelling the lands, righting wrongs wherever he finds an improperly filed tax return
3 - The fact Phil had started to take strategic advice from his collection of talking potatoes may have been a bit of a clue as well.
4 - Most of which ended up being used to pay off the overdue child support payments Geoff owed for all his bastards.
5 - After the man broke into the barmaid's quarters while she was working, trying to find out where she hid all the money she gets in tips.}

[SimplyJohn]

Name: Hilda Freeborn

Race: Half-Halfling (Quarterling)

Class: Barmaid (cross-classed in Assassin, for dealing with any wandering hands)

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Biography: Not much is known about Hilda's past, other than the fact that at the age of three she was left on the doorstep of the Broken Drum along with an indecipherable note written in an ancient mystical language.¹ Since then Geoff has cared for the girl as if she were his own daughter,² training her in the ancient ways of the Pub Landlord and teaching her to read by using the wine list and issues of Barman Monthly sent from the brewery.

Growing to be a pretty young woman³ Hilda has caught the eye of many a visitor to the Broken Drum, although most suitors have quickly decided to allow her to remain chaste after receiving a final warning about trying anything with her from Geoff.⁴ Becoming restless with life in the tavern, Hilda's reaching the point in her life where she's in search of a good husband,⁵ who'll be able to make her every dream come true.⁶

Favourite Drink: Whatever happens to be the most expensive thing on the menu at the moment. In fact, she'll just take the cash for now and buy the drink herself later when she has a free minute. While you're at it, the rest of the cash you have on you would be nice too.

_{1 - Geoff later managed to decode the note after realising it had been written in Drunkard. It read 'Be right back, nipping to the dragon's den to pick up some elfroot.'
2 - Actually, he's cared for her a hell of a sight better than that, considering he's never even seen most of his daughters and only occasionally remembers they exist at all.
3 - If a rather short one, given that she stands at 4' 9" in high heels.
4 - Only one warning is ever given, but Geoff tends to give it in such a way that it's clearly meant to be a final one, one way or another.
5 - Or a good wife, she's not too picky
6 - Basically showering her with riches and giving her a giant castle to live in before either dying or pissing off to fight some war on the other side of the planet so she doesn't have to listen to them complaining about how many shoes she's bought this month.}

[MonstrousMan]

Name Mirai Arcanox, Twelfth Master, The Inquisitor of Myzox. Hurkilaig Hunter

Race: Half high elf, half dark elf.

Class: Every day at 2. Room B. As a Master Mage, he teaches a lot of them.

Alignment: Neutral Good. (previous Lawful Evil)

Bio: Mirai was born into the blood stained city of Myzox, known for its brutal law enforcement and vicious gangs. It is said that he knew how to kill before he knew how to walk. It is also said that may be an exaggeration. Rising up as the leader of a necromantic cult, he overthrew Baron Viasish at the age of 17 and took the position of Inquisitor. During his time in such a high position of power, he had many years to learn that wealth and status were not all they were made out to be, and that no good came from evil. After 20 years of ruling, he forced the entirety of Myzox population out of the retched city and into the wilderness. He himself made sure there was nothing left of Myzox but ash.

The cities people were driven south, where Mirai's retinue of mages had begun and recently finished construction of a large city, free from any dark history or tyrannical leader. The criminals and evil among the people were taken away and killed during the nights the townsfolk spent on the road. Thus, Syrneth was born - ran by good people, under fair law. A vast port city, with lush gardens and shining spires of silver. Sea-broth became the local beverage, and Mirai took a liking to it.

Since then Mirai has taken it upon himself to smite evil from the land. As well as join the Wizards guild of Magic and Tinkering as an apprentice (though he was well versed already) and quickly fly up the ranks until he became the twelfth to master all the arts of magic at its source.

His deep knowledge of necromancy has led some to believe that Mirai is immortal, as he has never seemed to age over his twenties, and his birth was recorded more than 400 years ago.

He neither denies nor admits this claim.

[HolyHell]

Name: MurMur

Race: It has been debated as to what exactly he is, however it is something Infernal, maybe a bit of Goblin in there as well.

Class: Future Tyrant and owner of a big tower, where he will have servants and access to various cheeses and spirits. There will also be a library where he will keep various tomes of Forbidden Arcane knowledge. So basically a Magic User, and a self proclaimed wild card in any situation.

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral.

Bio: Murmur claims to have been some demonic overlord who was subdued by a Human Wizard and trapped in this form for all of eternity. This is of course only half true. Murmur was indeed summoned by a Wizard who instead of using a virgins blood used the blood of a whore, who claimed to be a virgin. So this nameless Wizard ended up getting Murmur instead of his original intention. The Wizard, decided to take the little demon under his wing and instead employed his services as a Familiar of sorts. The Wizard however failed to tell him that he was nothing more than an accident, so he let the little demon believe that he was actually some kind of Devil God.
This is where Murmur received his rather unorthodox training in the Arcane. Years later the Wizard passed away from a sever case of explosive diarrhea. Literally, the wizard attempted to make a salve to extend his life, and instead went to the privy and exploded in a mass of fire, feces, and blood. Murmur decided that it was time to pick up and go. He began to wander from town to town, city to city, telling the tale of his arrival to this plane and his destiny as future Devil God, to get followers, and spread fear. People of course didn't believe him, due to his small stature and Murmur took up the life of a wanderer. Getting into a variety of adventures which included begging for food, stealing food, employing his small stature as a thief, using his arcane talents to astonish the masses for gold and silver.
Murmur is still convinced that the Wizard somehow managed to trap him in this form which kept him weak, for his true form was that of a Devil God and when the time is right his true form will be revealed, and then he will get his tower, his power, and of course be much, much, taller.

[OwynnBleuOshen]

Name: Sember

Race: Wood Elf

Class: Cleric

Alignment: Neutral

Bio: Sember was born on a long journey. She does not know what her true home looks like, nor her mother and father. She was raised by a human thief. She has never known hardship, however, for her father-figure treated her well, and showered her with affection and anything she ever wanted. She never wanted much, and never took anything for granted. She may look shy and meek, but she is a very capable fighter.

Favorite Drink: Loves a good cinnamon whisky, but will drink so called "lady drinks"

[Balthazar007]

Name: (Unknown)

Race: Immortal

Class: Wanderer

Alignment: Good

Bio: This magical young man only knows of his own past through the stories of others. It is said that he was found as an infant in the woodlands by an old hermit. That man raised this child as his own. It is said that the boy's talent for music and art was discovered at such an early age that the old man would take the child into the nearest village to play for money on the road side. It was an enchanting site to see a toddler who could play the lute with as much skill as any noble troubadour. Eventually, the king took the toddler away from the hermit to raise within the castle walls.

Rumors say that the boy's name was known all across the kingdom until one strange day, just after he turned approximately thirteen years of age. The whole kingdom was in attendance for the marrying of the king's daughter to a noble from another kingdom. At the end of the ceremony, the boy was to perform, but he was feeling particularly moody this day, perhaps because he felt love for the princess. Either way, he did not wish to perform. But the king was not pleased to hear this and forced him to play. It is said that the song he chose to play had a terribly dark tune, so dark that it penetrated the minds of everyone in the kingdom, even those not close enough to hear. Aside from a few magical folk, the memories of everyone in the kingdom were wiped clean of the last ten years. The ability to speak and the knowledge of skills were kept, but all other information was lost. Even the boy himself lost all memory of these years.

This memory loss ruined the marriage and threw the kingdom in disarray for many weeks until enough written records were dug up to piece together the last ten years. With that and the testimony of less effected magi, the king came to the decision to send the boy into exile for fear of a similar incident occurring in the future. The exile was done with such haste that the king didn't even bother to tell the boy the name they found in the records, the name that was presumably his. After his exile, all records of the boy was burned and all forms of musical entertainment were outlawed. To this day, the kingdom has grown to be known as "The Land That Never Dances". On his own, the boy wandered the surrounding kingdoms, playing melodies. Along the way, he pieced together his past from others that heard the rumors of his former kingdom.

Living in the savage wilds, the boy also learnt of another mystery surrounding himself. While he could feel pain and pleasure of the skin, any damage to his body would heal with a good night's rest. Even mortal wounds disappeared after regaining consciousness. He also realized that he only ate to satisfy his tastes. He found this out after going five days without seeing a town. All the while he worried that he would starve, only to realize that he never felt the thing described as famine.

Puzzled about his immortal condition, the boy wandered with a new purpose, to learn about origins. While his many adventures have done nothing to reveal these origins, they have revealed further depth into his magical abilities. In short, with the playing of an instrument or the singing of a note, he can cast spells to effect the minds of others. He can manipulate their will, erase their memories, implant false memories, or any number of tricks. Only those with a strong connection to magic can resist his manipulation.

Favorite Drink: He has grown fond of dark ale.

[Cuccoruler]

Name: Domaku
Age: 40
Gender: Male
Race: Goron
Weapons: His fists and sometimes a giant hammer if he has obtained one.
Abilities: When he curls up he can roll at his enemies and knock them down. He can also do a ground pound and the rocks on his back cannot be cut by a blade. He can also use his back as a shield if needed.
Personality: Domaku is a very jolly Goron who loves rocks and their different tastes. He calls everyone brother no matter the gender or relation to himself. Loves a strong drink.
Allegiance: Jolly Good
Bio: Domaku grew up in a goron village with other gorons in the desert, after he came of age he started to go adventuring constantly looking for new adventures and new types of rocks to taste and munch on. His favorite as of late has been Marble, he loves it due to the crunchiness.

[HHShetland]

Tongzka

Name: Tongzka Zapruzhatza Vezilz-Tor 949 (Tongzka of Zapruzhatza, Dockworker Number 949)

Race: Bardovaz-avee (Bardovan)

Class: Vezilz-tor (Longshoreman/Mechanic)

Alignment: Scut Porz'l-brez (True Worker (True Neutral))

Biography: To get a sense of what Tongzka's life was life, it's important to know about Bardovan culture. See, the Bardovan home world, Bardov, is run by a quasi-Communist single-party government. The family, as a social unit, has been wiped out. Young Bardovans are sent to live in communes where they must learn basic work skills, and when they pass, they are assigned a job; and their 'family' name is literally their assigned job title. However, Bardovans who do well enough get to go to special universities and choose a more prestigious career, with the highest honour being the opportunity to join the One Bardovan People's Party. Tongzka was a shoe-in to joining the Party, but then he quit and became a lowly dockworker instead. Some people think it was an act of defiance, others think it was because everyone else in the Party was taller than him. Bardov may never know.

One day, Tongzka was on break from rearranging crates at the Zapruzhatza spaceport, reading the latest issue of Interdimensional Travel Quarterly, when one of his clumsy colleagues knocked over a shipping container full of Six-Pack Cans of Hydrogen (for robots). The Liquid Hydrogen fuel leaked into another container loaded up with decommissioned Flux Capacitors. When Tongzka called for a cleanup crew, he slipped on some of the Hydrogen and bashed his head on the side of the container, missing the Flux Capacitors completely. Unfortunately, the cleanup crew set off some kind of accident which teleported them away to an unknown location. Glad that he was not caught in the accident, Tongzka let his guard down when he dropped his coffee on a teleporter and accidentally stood on it.

The resulting teleporter accident sent him to some weird-ass planet at a medieval level of development, infested with creatures that can somehow bend the laws of physics via waves of the hand. Convinced that it's all clever illusions by a culture of stage magicians, Tongzka decided to head to the local cantina, one 'Broken Drum' place, to find out how the hell he can get home.

Favourite Drink: Coffee, lots and lots of it. Preferably blue-black, with spicy beans imported from Jairov.

[Genni]

Name: Astrape

Race: Roman Goddess

Class: Goddess of thunder, handmaiden of Zeus

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Biography: While wild in her youth Astrape has mellowed with age, portraying a calm and sensitive demeanour in almost all situations, unless she loses her temper, in which case expect to find the room filled with charred, electrically charged corpses in short order. Currently on a quest to find her sister Bronte, a loud and bombastic party-girl who just loves to make a lot of noise wherever she goes, Astrape has taken some time out on her journeys to put her feet up for a little while.

Favourite Drink: Ammonium chloride, served with zinc and manganese cocktail sticks and a slice of lemon

[Gareth]

Name:Clark

Age:22

Appearance:

Hider

Race:Human

Class:Mercenary

Alignment:Neutral

Biography:He was raised by a poor but good natured family on the edge of a major city. He was taught hard work by his father who, used to help lifting blocks of stone to build a castle while he was still in his prime and taught honesty by his mother who was a seamstress for the local shop. As he grew up he listened to them talk about the world and he grew impatient to be on his own and experience it for himself.

So at the young age of ten he ran away from it, and that same day he witnessed a sword fight between a group of bandits and a lone swordsman. Later having defeated the bandits with ease this lone swordsmen noticed the boy and beckoned him over.

In short order the lone swordsmen took the boy under his wing and taught him his trade, that of a mercenary. Fighting others for money, without fail, a life with or without notoriety depending on the mercenary.

Ten years passed before he left his 'mercenary father,' and he ventured out on his own earning his own keep fighting, always fighting.

A couple years later, using his money as he wished and having yet another employer having empty his money bags to Clark, Clark grew restless and he heard of a Tavern. The Broken Drum, having heard a lot of rumors that varied widely about what the place was like, he decided to investigate it himself.

Favourite Drink:A year old brew of beer.

[ArenaSnow]

True Form

Tall, wielding a staff that can fire energy from both ends and potentially act as a scythe, he looks anything but human in his true form.

Human Form

Of roughly average height, he adopts the looks of a younger british man.

Name: Thasseldar

Gender: Identifies as Male.

Age: ~600 human years, although time has worked differently depending on the realm.

Alignment: Hero; Lawful Neutral

Race: Realmswalker (From a planet located in another dimension)

Personality: Brooding, with the appearance of being friendly enough, but very quiet when it comes to something just about him. Although he doesn’t attack anyone without proper cause, he doesn’t hesitate against using lethal force when threatened.

Powers

-Realmswalker Skillset: Being one who travels across as many as 3 dimensions in a 24 hour period on a busy day, Thasseldar can, in effect, teleport to worlds of his choice, so long as he knows of their existence and has someplace that he can imagine to teleport to. He also has an ability special to him that each Realmswalker has to themselves.

-Summoning: He is capable of summoning minions, albeit ones that are guaranteed to be weaker in general than himself, although this particular character uses minions much less often than others of his kind. With this ability is a sub-ability to bring those that wish to willingly go with him, although it is possible for him to force move someone depending on the preparation and willpower of said target.

-The Staff: An ancient looking staff that is a sort of futuristic technology blended with the staff that a wizard from LOTR would use. It has two places where it can produce energy scythe blades, is capable of shooting small energy bolts, and helps him channel his power more effectively.

-Reflexes: Due to the nature of his species, he has very good reflexes.

-Teleportation: He can potentially teleport if he is able to concentrate long enough and visualize where he is going to be.

Ability: He has an almost intimate knowledge of the energy flowing around him, and thus is capable of shooting balls of energy or overloading power circuits, whatever the situation may be.

History

The Realmswalker is a species from a dimension/world known as Kallathan, which is homeworld to a diverse set of beings. Realmswalkers are the most adventurous of the lot, being capable of phasing to completely different worlds if need be. A specific order known as the Peacekeepers was formed by an alliance of three powerful Realmswalkers (Thasseldar, Epsilon and Igorossus). Its mission: Fight on the side of good and order wherever it may be, as chaos tends to extend itself without needing any encouragement. ALthough this order is home to a rough dozen Realmswalkers, Epsilon has vanished and Igorossus has fallen to the side of evil.

Thasseldar himself is the youngest of the three, although that in part is due to the varied environments that affect how time is distributed - a year in one realm may be 5 or more in another. He was enrolled at an official Academy for Realmswalkers in order to properly hone his powers. He has proven himself level headed and intelligent, which makes up for his tendency to lack in raw power where other beings he has come in contact with have a lot more.

He had heard tales of a newly sprung up tavern, which was said to hold many beings from many places. It was an opportunity he had no intention to pass up... of course, he would be doing this alongside a new mission he was taking up.

Favorite Drink: Honestly, all he likes is something mildly spicy... or something new that isn't fatal. Dying in a dimension may not kill his presence in all of them, but it would hurt like heck...

[Rope]

My Hider

Name: Dayle Shayne

Race: Human

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Biography: Dayle grew up the son of two, poverty stricken serfs, in the great Frontier, where Orcs and other vile creatures roam the land. Dayle went many a day without food in those early years, struggling to survive: drought had hit the area in which he lived and his parents did not have the connections required to get extra meals on the family’s table. But Dayle has little memories of the place, for tragedy struck when he was yet a child. According to his father, when Dayle’s baby brother turned 5, an Orc warband assaulted the town.

The details, he keeps to himself, but it was then that the family moved away…and that his second brother came to be. A half-orc for brother was never something he had envisioned possible when he was younger, but it was a reality. And no sooner had he been born, that his mother died during the birthing process, leaving only the father to watch over his now 4 children; Dayle’s older sister, Dayle himself, his younger brother and…the newborn bastard.

Details are often flown over here, Dayle preferring the grandiose, but the family moved with the refugee caravans, eventually arriving in the city of Horween. Now, the time skip seems frivolous, but years passed between these two events. Dayle was now 12, where he had been 7 during the last events. In any case, it is there, in the city of Horween, that Dayle finally got out of poverty, and left his first mark on the world. As his father could not look after them and get enough money to feed them all, he was forced to make Dayle find employment. Well, the search did not last long: Horween’s less…ethically concerned entrepreneurs took this golden opportunity to replenish their ranks of gladiators and pit-fighters.

It is there that Dayle found the true beginnings to his tale, the turning point in this dark story. But a tale such as this need not be recounted on paper. No, a true legend such as this deserves to be told, in the most sacred of forms: orally. And Dayle sure fancies himself a storyteller.

Favorite drink: You’d think blood red wine would be to his taste considering he’s a bloodthirsty gladiator, but he much prefers water to stay in top shape. Of course, a man such as himself cannot let that be known, and he usually drinks the strongest thing on the menu. It’s all

[Pripovednik]

Elderi

Elderi

( The Hissing Hammer )

Not much is known about Elderi, even to himself. All he knows is he awoke in the middle of a burnt village, with nothing but a hammer he could not lift to his name. His name, or what he believes to be his name, is written on the handle.

While his ability to change form is restricted to his arms, this still stops him from being categorised into any particular race (Although he would be considered Elven by most.)

For most of his life Elderi fought in the famed arenas of Dogrogudor, creating quite the name for himself with his large hammer. He is notorious for using his changling arms to form the heads of snakes which bit and hissed at Kujar The Crippler.
Now Elderi searches for adventure and to experience the world.
Elderi is blind to his good looks, much too modest to think anything of them. He also does not hide his ability, using it whenever he feels the need to.

[HHShetland]

His hat is better than yours.

Name: King Bestaff

Race: Hobbe

Class: Wizard-King (Formerly High Priest of Teddyism)

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral.

Biography: It is said that Hobbes reproduce parasitically, by kidnapping children, or luring them to their caves with promises of never having to grow up, and trapping them in sacks filled with magic sand, whereupon they are transformed into more Hobbes. No-one knows for sure since no-one's ever seen it happen, and the Hobbes themselves are either too stupid or too insane to give any answers. Though what is for certain is that they never grow up, both physically and mentally.

As a consequence of refusing to drink alcohol, worshipping Teddy Bears, not knowing anything about the birds and the bees (the fact that there don't appear to be any girl Hobbes, just boy Hobbes in drag, certainly doesn't help)... oh, and the whole attacking people/eating flesh/having indecipherable accents/generally being unpleasant thing, Hobbe-kind is generally not welcomed into civilisation.

For a long time, the Hobbes were perfectly fine with this, in all their bloodthirsty naivete, and were content to stay in their dark, dank caves. That is, until one Hobbe with an affinity for magic came onto the scene. This particular Hobbe formerly served under the self-proclaimed Hobbe King, Jimbo Junior, as the local High Priest of Teddyism. But while no less mad than most of his brethren, he was a damn sight cleverer than most, and he wanted nothing more than some fancy clothes, the power to read and write, and the privilege to hang about the shops and inns with all the smarty-pants humans.

With encouragement from his confidant, a plush doll he calls 'Jack-O', he tried to lobby King Jimbo Junior to start up vaguely-defined diplomatic talks with the nearest settlement. Unfortunately, this went nowhere as Jimbo literally had no idea what 'Diplomacy' meant.

Enraged, the clever Hobbe used his magic power to boot Jimbo from the cave and claimed the throne for himself, and along with it, Jimbo's crystal staff. He liked the staff so much that he crowned himself 'King Bestaff' (as in 'Best Staff'). As King, the first thing he did was outlaw Teddyism, deciding it was 'a dumb, kiddy faith for big babies', and ordered all Teddy Bears to be burnt to ashes. Then he began sending letters to the local town requesting the trade of cheap labour in exchange for the right to part-ay in the streets at night, but so far none of his letters have been intelligible enough to be understood by these people.

Thinking that they're trying to spite him, Bestaff has taken Jack-O with him to a Tavern called the Broken Drum, which he's heard is a very grown-up place, eager to prove he can fit in amongst the humans.

Favourite Drink: Lemonade.

[Gerhard Reiter]

Name: Lieutenant Archibald Watson, King's Own Royal Marines



Race: Human

Class: Soldier

[b]Alignment: Lawful Good (Formerly Neutral Good pre-enlistment)

Biography: Lieutenant Watson has served in three different campaigns over the course of his recorded 22 years of active duty for the King. Watson had distinguished himself (then as a Colour Sergeant) at the Battle of Oxford Skies where he stood his ground at the feet of the encroaching enemy armada. The armada had cut the ships around Watson to pieces making his assigned airship the only remaining vessel. The Captain at the time had been fatally wounded and was no longer fit to assume command. Reiter had taken the helm of the ship and commanded his men to hold out long enough for Lord Cromwell's fleet to reinforce and drive back the enemy fleet.

Afterwards, Sergeant Watson had recieved special commendations from His Majesty himself and attained his current rank of Lieutenant. The price of the battle was costly though, for a stray cannonshot had detatched Lieutenant Watson's left arm in an explosion of shrapnel and debris. Archibald had been given the task of routine patrols and general peacekeeping for the Kingdom's outer territories where he continues to faithfully do his duty to this day.

Favourite Drink: Gin, but there's no need to be picky. Beer is beer.