stone

Steampunk, Eldritch, and Middle Fantasy Homebrew

Also possible interested. More so if there's a general plot in mind to work towards.

The Fall of Faith: A Journey Home

@MagratheanWhale

Thank you! I was getting a bit worried 😅

The Fall of Faith: A Journey Home

@MagratheanWhale

Rolt Eloras

Name: Rolt Eloras
Gender: M
Age: 35

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Origins:
The Tals clan can trace its origin all the way to Voralt Tals, the original leader of the Northern Lands and owner of the Girdle of the Charging Ox, a magical relic that can store the wearer's strength. With the Girdle, Tals conquered the squabbling tribes in his area and started to make a slightly more unified North. When he died, his successor was chosen not by birthright but by accomplishment, and that tradition continues down to this very day.

From a developmental standpoint, most of the Tals clan is rather underdevloped. Hunting, rather than domestication, tends to be how the Tals people acquire their meat. Their homes, while functional, usually lack the comforts of those futher south. Furs and skins are the clothing of choice, rather than woven or spun cloths.

By no means, however, are the people of Tals unintelligent. As a result of years upon years of internal warfare, the war leaders of Tals posses keen strategic minds and an incredible sense for battle. Culturally, the people tell stories to keep track of history. The prominence of oral storytelling has led to the development of a rich collection of tales and fables as well as an overall love for language and its meaning in the Tals clan.

Magic users in the Tals clan tend to use Earth or Wind magic in ways that complement their fighting styles. While using magic for utility is not unheard of, the people of Tals still tend to see it as a resource for war, not peace.

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Magic:
Wind and Air magic, with an emphasis on mist, fog, and smoke. He can create large amounts of those three obscurants quickly, and make them last for a fairly long time. He can also create decently strong gusts powerful enough to knock a man over or propel himself further. Finally, he is able to deflect crossbow bolts and other projectiles to a certain degree, making his light protection irrelevant at a range.

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Fighting Style:
Rolt, in contrast with his great size, fights using stealth. His primary way of assault is to fill an area with an obscurant, usually fog. He will then isolate enemies and ambush them from the depths of his clouds. His light armor serves a dual purpose as a result: First of all, its light coverage allows him to generate and expel fog more quickly from his body. Second, it allows him to move much more silently than if he were covered in metal.

Rolt is able to tell where his enemies are by the movements they generate in the air, coupled with his incredible hearing. Once he locates them, he sneaks up and attacks quickly and efficiently. He carries a number of weapons, but is still strong enough to tear some men limb from limb. When he has to get through armor, he favors poisoned daggers; otherwise, he uses sharp metal gauntlets to engage. If worst comes to worst, he can generate smoke and asphyxiate men in armor. If the enemy doesn't move and stays perfectly silent, however, Rolt is forced to seek them out in the fog instead. Other wind mages can also dispel his obscurants.

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Appearance:
An absolute mountain of a man. 202cm and built like a bull. Dark skin and white hair. Contrary to its appearance, his hair is quite soft. It's dyed white- his actual hair is black. Wears the Girdle of the Charging Ox, his family's symbol of power. Doffs the chestpiece if he needs to be extra stealthy. Deep-set eyes and a strong jaw give off the impression of a dullard, but Rolt is no idiot.

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Personality:
Although he is strong-willed and forceful, Rolt places respect for others above all else. Only when someone is truly useless will he talk down to or ignore them. Even then, he will always give opportunities to those around him to earn his respect. His logical way of thinking is slower than most, but he always reaches the correct conclusion given the facts. Rolt displays a profound love for poetry and language, though he himself is no wordsmith. Likes puns, and will often make them himself. The results are usually less than stellar. If you called him stupid, he would probably laugh and agree before demonstrating exactly why you shouldn't have underestimated his intelligence.

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History:
The leader of the now-dead Tals clan, Rolt Eloras was born in the lowest caste of his martial society. After clawing his way up through childhood hardship and pain, Rolt eventually challenged the leader of his clan for leadership rights. The contest not only involved trial by combat, but also a leadership test and grueling endurance challenge. Rolt triumphed in all aspects, and won the position by clan vote. He led for five years before he and his entire clan set off to defend the Knife's Edge fortress, leaving only the elderly and youngest children behind.

Every single man and woman who went with Rolf perished in the fall of the fortress. As the only leader of his clan, Rolt now seeks to make his way back home and protect those he left behind.

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Equipment:
-Traveling Pack: Contains lots of jerky, waterskin, and light camping gear.
-Metal Gauntlets: His favored weapon. Can trade blows easily with swords. Forged from the finest material.
-Poisoned Daggers: His last resort weapon.
-Girdle of the Charging Ox: A relic and symbol of his now-worthless chiefdom. A magical item that stores the wearer's strength when not in use to be called upon later. It cannot be used to enhance the wearer's body past its normal limits. Rolt usually uses it to extend his endurance far past that of an ordinary man.

The Fall of Faith: A Journey Home

@MagratheanWhale

In your character sheet for Ardur his name is listed as S'venia's.

The Fall of Faith: A Journey Home

@MagratheanWhale

Alright, thank you! I just had to be sure. I'll try to get the CS in tonight.

The Fall of Faith: A Journey Home

@MagratheanWhale Yo! Hopefully I'm not too late to make a character. I just have a question. What does #4 on the Rules hider mean? "Enemies called you stupid?" I don't quite understand what you're asking.

✲ Thalam Online ✲

@manchildF

✲ Thalam Online ✲

From a distance, it may have looked like a small, white-haired girl had just ran at and challenged a small slime. However, in Devon's mind, and epic battle was being waged. He smashed his staff into the slime multiple times, before being blasted in the face in retaliation. "Gah! Damn you!" He smashed it again multiple times before taking another blast. "I will have you and your slime family for lunch!" This was getting hard. Devon knew that he wasn't actually sweating, but the VR was so realistic that he couldn't help but feel exerted. And this slime... this fight was so difficult! It was almost certainly some sort of mid-level boss. No matter. He would destroy it and reap the rewards. He hit it again and took another sliming. Only then did he notice the tiny arrow pointing towards the bottom left of his vision. A small icon, glowing. He activated it. Blue sparks shot from the tip of his staff and blasted into the slime, damaging it far more than his strikes had. "Ahaha! I am a genius! I have unlocked the secrets of this-gAAgh!" He was interrupted by another shot to the face. If anyone had cared enough to watch a far corner of the early-level Bellview fields, they would have seen a small girl triumph over the tiniest victory. But nobody did. The tiny female finished blasting the slime and collecting its drops, then collapsed on the ground in exhaustion. "Oh man. I'm spent.". Devon looked at the blinking icon in his HUD. "What? 1/5 slimes defeated? Are you kidding me? I need to do that... uh... four more times? Is this game insane?" Internally, however, somewhere in the deepest, darkest recesses of the hulking rower's mind, a tiny spark grew. Devon Doralt could hold affection for no man, but this was as close to fun as he had ever felt. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't be too much of an issue if I played a little longer. I am sort of exerting myself here." He tried to push away another thought in the back of his mind, but it persisted. He resolved himself. Devol Doralt never shied away from the truth. "I suppose I'll need some... some help with meeting this goal." RELICA IS LOOKING FOR A PARTY

Online DevonDoralt132 Class: Mage Level: 1 40 // 40 // 10 Basic atk x9, Magic Missile x6 Stats & Info Body: 3 Spirit: 9 Tech: 3 Equipment: >Basic Staff

✲ Thalam Online ✲

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"Where is that freshie?" Coach Croch screamed.

The line of hulking crewmembers were silent. They knew better than to get on Croch's bad side. His temper was known all throughout Dronk University for its explosive power and unpredictability. Only one student had the power, the courage, the pure MANLINESS to address Coach Croch: Devon Doralt.

"I got it, Coach," he uttered in a southern drawl. "I'll set that weakling straight." Devon took a step forward and faced his coach. Coach Croch was big, but Devon was bigger. A moving wall of pure power, the Doralt name was feared by crews everywhere. He had it all. 195cm of height. A 200kg back squat. A 5'13" 2k time. Anything he wanted, he would take. Gold medals at the Head of the Charles. Championship lifting rounds. Virginities of sorority girls. And now, he would be taking this freshman's soul.

"You better get that freshie's ass to practice immediately! You have my permission to take away whatever's keeping that fucker's ass!"

"Alright, Coach. I'll be right back." Devon began jogging towards the dorms.

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"What the hell is this?"

Devon stood in the entrance to the absent freshman's dorm. The weak lightweight was lying in his bed, hooked up to... something. It looked like the noodle-boy was lying in bed with some sort of contraption strapped to his head. Several wires extended from the headset to a computer next to the bed.

He stepped up to the bed and poked the small being. No response. Devon straightened, wound back, and delivered a blow that could knock over a horse. The freshman jolted awake and screamed.

"What are you doing?"

"Aah! Devon! Uh, I was just... sleeping!" The pint-sized mortal said.

"Sleeping? With this helment on? And all these wires?" Devon poked the computer suspiciously.

"Um, yeah! It helps me, uh, sleep better! I can prepare for practice better like this!" The freshman was sweating. Devon could smell it.

"Really? You can get more out of sleep with this?" Devon looked at the computer.

"Yeah! Uh, I'll just... um... head to practice..." The fragile soul stood up and made for the door. Devon caught him by the shirt collar and lifted him up.

"This. Give it to me." Devon pointed at the headset and computer. "I'm confiscating it until you come to practice on time."

"Uhm, that's my..." The puny person cut himself off when he saw Devon's face. "You'll give it back... right?"

Devon smiled widely, showing a full mouth of white teeth that would make a shark jealous. "We'll see."

After all, whatever Devon Doralt wanted, he would take.

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Devon was confused. He registered an account, purchased a subscription, and logged in. Contrary to what he had said to the freshman, he was likely not going to be returning the computer and headset anytime soon. After all, if it helped with his sport, what good would it be in some weak lightweight's hands? It would be much more beneficial to the team if Devon used it.

He had sped through the character creation as fast as he could. The random button was his savior. He wanted to get to the training as fast as possible. But what he saw when he entered the world within the headset was not at all what he was expecting. Bright, flowery fields and a bustling town greeted him, not a racecourse and times. No weights, no numbers, nothing.

Well, there were numbers. His HUD was there. He sort of understood what it was. He had played a few video games when he was younger- FFVII was the one he remembered most. But why would he need a healthbar to train?

No matter. It must've been one of those newfangled "gameification"-type training things, meant to challenge the user and motivate them by providing rewards in-game for training hard. Well, Devon Doralt wouldn't be last. He would never be last. And so he continued on into the world of Thalam Online to get gains, women, and fame.

As a mage.

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He finally located a slime after much cajoling. Eventually, he realized that, however realistic she may be, Tu Tauri Al was just a computer. Her responses were realistic, but scripted.

He hid behind a bush nearby just outside of town. A level 1 slime. It would be easy. His smaller frame ingame helped him hide much better than in real life. He jumped up with a roar and swung at the slime with his staff.

✲ Thalam Online ✲

haha yes I too am a girl

^{Ingame Tag: Relica
Username: DevonDoralt132}

Level : 3
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Fireborn Dwarf
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••••
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Mage
└ ┛

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^{Combat Info}
┏ ┐
Body: 3 (+2)
Spirit: 10 (+1)
Technique: 3
└ ┛
••••
┏ ┐
Magic Missile
Fireball
└ ┛
••••
┏ ┐
Basic Staff
Slime-covered Tunic
└ ┛

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^{Personal Info}
┏ ┐
Devon Doralt is the hardest, meanest crew member in his college. He's powered through forty-five regattas. He's hazed over 100 freshmen. He's even pranked the dean by filling her car with shaving cream and saran wrapping the entire thing three times. So what does he do in his free time? Well, recently, a member of the crew disappeared for 3 whole days. Devon burst into his room and found his crewmate engrossed in some sort of video game. Not to be outdone by the WEAK crewmember, he "borrowed" the set and has just begun sinking his time into the very first VRMMO craze: Thalam Online.
└ ┛
••••
┏ ┐
Online: Tries to act like a girl. Fails miserably. Is currently trying to try out this new concept of "empathy." Currently thinks that everyone rps like a pirate. Rather bad at the game and usually rushes in without a plan.
Offline: Brash, Loud, Abrasive, Extremely closeted about his gaming and other nerdy habits.
└ ┛
Inventory:
Slime Jellies x5
Green Moss x1
Poison Dagger stolen by @Cu Chulainn >:(