The Large Dumbo

Gaia Frontier (5e)

Darunia

The Drow blinked twice. Given the treatment he had received by the guards, he had half-expected the place to refuse him service upon stepping in. The woman didn't seem to be harboring any sort of hostility, and he could not perceive any sort of reason as to why this particular barmaid would have any ill will beyond his race... Yet he still felt the strings of caution fret at his mind. The only reason why he imagined this woman would be treating him with this kindness was because, as long as he was doing business, they couldn't care less if he came in here and murdered someone. A quiet sigh escaped from his lips as he skimmed over the menu. The options were quite overwhelming to the young Drow, and for a moment he felt some of the cause of excitement dissipate a bit. He drummed his fingers a bit on the bar, reading over everything to himself for quite some time... Wait a second.

"Rooms are 5 silver a night, you say?" Darunia coughed under his breath. Apprehension grasped at him, as he felt himself falter. Staying in one place for so long was such a foreign concept to him at this point that it almost made him afraid to even consider staying here through the morning. The Drow bit his bottom lip nervously, looking up at the barmaid, then back to the menu, then back to the woman again. How long should he stay? Should he even stay? He set the menu aside and rubbed his hands together in thought for a moment, tuning out the world around him. Asking people for things was something he would have to do if he wanted to rise for power, but being so vulnerable made the fairly young Drow feel great apprehension. Was somebody listening? What if one of HER lot was here somewhere in the bar? What if that gang had tracked him down and was lying in wait? What if somebody here was watching?

"Could I look into purchasing a room for 10 nights? A-As well as a bottle of that Dancer and Prancer, if it's not too much," Darunia slowly asked, a smile creeping onto his face. "Please," he added quickly.

Beneath an almost-forced smile, Darunia could feel his heart pound as he spoke. He could not for the life of himself figure out why that was, and it terrified him a little. There was no reason why he should fear this woman, or anyone in this tavern for that matter. He needed some time to collect his thoughts... Yes, that was it. Some wine to calm his nerves and commemorate his first steps in this new life, and a brief moment of mental rest to quell his doubts. Confidence would keep him on his feet, even if it would likely be just a hollow mask at some points. He'd seen some societies of non-Elves retreat to their homes after a particularly long and stressful day, simply to fall asleep. Such needs were beyond Darunia's kind: a simple self-reflection and contemplation on life was all that was needed in order to get what other races needed in several hours. Ironically, he was quite desperate for the relief of such at this moment. The road here had been long and harsh, especially in the harsh gaze of the sun.

D&D Fifth Edition: Land of the Old Curse

Mark

---

From the very moment Mark had wandered into the town, he was very, very sure that he would hate it here. The noise made it hard for the slapdash creature to focus, and the sheer number of people made it very difficult for him to tell whether or not someone was approaching with the intent to attack. Such concerns were always in the back of his thoughts since he had been with his creators, and while he had learned that such behavior would not be commonplace in the city, he still had yet to convince himself of this. Another thing he hated was having to talk to people. He preferred to get to the "important" part of most interactions. With his creator, that was getting Mark fixed up. With the common rabble, it was to flash his weapon and warn them that they were trespassing on private property. With brigands, the important part was culling their numbers and sending one off to advise the others not to endanger the Stormhammer family again. He would have to ask somebody at some point a few questions, if he wanted to achieve the goal that had been set before him, and given how dull his creators were... The Warforged imitated the sound of sighing, not having the lungs to do so. This was going to be a very troublesome mission, this one. A warm surge caused his eyes to glow gently as he remembered the goal that had been set before him.

"Yer gonna find my daughter, Marina. Yer gonna bring 'er to me. And yer gonna make sure nothin' like this ever happens again."

Of course, however, being a greenhorn to the act of information gathering - well, gathering information from those who aren't bleeding profusely or suffering from broken bones - Mark had no real place to start. What good is it to go to a bar and exchange a few drinks when you have no need for the liquid? Why go to an inn when you require no sleep? "How u'erly pointless," Mark complained to himself. His thick, Dwarvish accent was a reminder of his creator's rather macabre decision to base Mark's voice off of his father's. Mark's eyes scanned the town, as he tried to figure out where a good congregation of people would be. The crowd gathering in the middle of the town had caught his attention, but even a fool would be able to see that they were enthralled by something. Questions would have to wait. Shoving past a group of people, he nudged his way to the front, very curious to see what the matter was. To see what had attracted the attention of those who had decided to gather around. Silently, he watched as the processions occurred, up until the moment that the lever was pulled and the 'Whiteheath Witch' was executed. Specifically, when the reveal was made that this person was not who they appeared to be. With a muffled whir, the Warforged placed a hand on his chin, the gesture that his creator had often performed when something curious or unfavorable was placed before him. Something about this business didn't sit right with him. Had they mistakenly executed someone who was supposed to be this Whiteheath Witch? A dull stream of thoughts suddenly popped up into Mark's head: Could Marina Stormhammer have been here? Could she have been executed prior, under a similar guise of magic? Was Marina being held captive by the Whiteheath Witch?

A course grunt escaped from Mark's voice synthesizer. What a bothersome chore this assignment was turning out to be.

Once things had calmed down a little, he was going to have to ask some questions. He was unsure as to how well immediately consulting those responsible for the execution would go as well. For now, he would simply have to sit back and wait, perhaps coming up with a more water-tight plan that wasn't "ask random people that he sees." As if on cue, he noticed the group approaching the body. If he could, a small smirk would have escaped from the mouth of the Warforged. Several heads worked better than one, after all. He approached the bunch in front of the body and placed hand to chin again, carefully looking over the body. He needed to figure out if there were any more secrets this woman was hiding...

Actions/Rolls

Mark approaches the body and attempts to examine it via a Medicine check, hoping to specifically gather any sort of information on wounds that may have been inflicted prior to the execution proper.

1d20+Wisdom Modifier(1)

Result:9

Gaia Frontier (5e)

Darunia

Darunia grinned at the snide remark. "Clever one, aren't you?" Darunia responded. "Sadly you'd have to pull more than that to get under my skin... Very well, then. I suppose I'll follow you two." They say that greed can drive a man to do many things, but it takes a honeyed tongue to guide the path. Clearly, Darunia's tongue was a bit lacking today. Regardless of who was taking him anywhere, he needed to go inside. These two could threaten to kill him at his destination, and he'd still be just as willing to follow them as long as it meant staying out of the painful rays of the sun.

On the bright side, he had at least learned something from this chance encounter. All of the guards he had seen thus far looked young, and if there's one thing that Darunia was aware of more than anything else, it was that age was a good sign of experience. These ones looked to be incredibly young. In the future, he might need to make use of this lack of experience. On the flipside, he also presumed that this little incident of his would not go unnoticed. He was not too sure about how much stock would be put into the words of these recruits, but he would have to be cautious if it spread. Immediately burning the bridges of the common guard was no way to start a new life in a new town, especially when he had as little as he did.

At his destination - the Drunken Dragon, according to the sign outside - he paid the two guards a very brief and tired glance. After all, this was something he could have done himself, he supposed. For the time being, he needed to sit down and take in everything that had happened so far. He sat down at a table by himself, taking a deep breath and rubbing his eyes. The harshness of the light outside was so unbearable... Darunia could still feel his eyes burning despite walking inside. He needed to collect himself for a moment. The long travel here had fatigued the Drow, especially due to his disdain for the sun. He began rubbing his face furiously, as he began to hatch a plan for what his next move would be.

Obviously the first step would be to secure a place to sleep. He wasn't too sure how high the cost was to live here, and given his status as a Drow, he could ensure that a place to live would come at a much steeper cost than normally. Coin was not the only way to inflate the price of a home, as Darunia was very well aware. What sorts of places would be free for him to use as his own? Try as he might, Darunia realized he was simply too tired to rack his brain right now for an answer. He needed to just come up with a bare bones idea of his goals, and he'd have time to sketch them out further at dusk. His next plan was to get something to protect himself. All he had was a very distant surge of arcane energy he could manifest, but even that was something very convoluted in the mind of this Drow. Mastery of this technique, referred to as the creation of "dancing lights," was something that was typically taught to those who serve the matriarch of Drow clans. To master this technique was to ensure one's place in righteous servitude, avoiding the often-deadly label of uselessness.

Maybe taking the old hag's altar wasn't such a good idea, in retrospect.

He knew that he likely stood little chance in actual combat against the men and women in this town. Much like how he had seen this place as an area of opportunity, he was also aware that there was always a bigger threat than he. Men and women who were stronger, smarter, and quicker than he was. Darunia gritted his teeth in aggravation. Nothing has changed! After a moment of reflection, he sighed. Of course nothing was going to change immediately. He had to give himself time to grow, and learn. He had to become better, and it would take time. All he could do for now, though, was come up with a plan.

A sigh escaped his lips, as he rubbed his face. This was getting to be too much for him right now. He was frazzled and tired. Perhaps a drink would help. In fact, Darunia decided to take the opportunity to make this a positive experience. He could call this a drink in celebration of his new life, and of a potentially new home. Darunia approached the bar cautiously. A single misstep could have potentially disastrous results, in a literal and figurative sense. "Excuse me," he said, with as jolly a smile as a tired and mildly pained Drow can construct, "I was wondering what you had in terms of drinks, as well as the rates on your rooms."

Gaia Frontier (5e)

Darunia

A very dry smirk crossed the Drow's face as he could sense the two forms approaching. Of course taking the first step into his journey would not be as easy as... well, taking a step. With the sun beating down on his face, he clenched his teeth and held a hand over his eyes, squinting them to further reduce exposure. The sun always put him in a foul mood. What good was it for aside from growing crops? Civilization has created substitutes for its other purposes, so why have they not made it obsolete yet?! Darunia sighed, shaking his head. "Do you always ask redundant questions of those who come to your city?" He asked. "I am a traveler. I travel. What more is there to it that you wish to know?" Speaking in such a tone was, he knew, not very likely to push any sort of idea of friendliness to the group before him. The sun's overpowering glare made it quite hard for him to try and converse while making eye contact, and while he could put up his hood, he was sure that these two rapscallions were simply looking for a fight. The flap of a hood would be all it would take to send fists flying. At least, that's what most of his experiences taught him.

Of course, he knew that they were really after why a Drow was lurking around here in the first place. Quite frankly, he was none too sure himself. Such an answer would not satisfy a guard, if experience had taught him. This was going to be his first chance to make an impression in the city, and, while he couldn't get a solid grasp on the precise ages of the guards, they appeared to be quite young. He considered the most hassle-free way to deal with this scenario... He wasn't too keen on spending his money so soon into his trip, but it seemed like it couldn't be helped. "Perhaps we can make an exchange," Darunia quickly proposed. Fishing out two gold coins and flashing them to the guards, he forced a smile. "I need to get someplace to stay for at least the next morning. Should one of you escort me to the nearest inn, I promise I will make it worth your time." He was not a charmer by any stretch of the word, but he was left with no choice. Begging and sniveling not to be assaulted by these young guards... A flicker of anger flared up in Darunia. He would have to let this pass. Just this once.

Actions/Rolls

Darunia pulls out two GP to both hopefully defuse the situation, and to gain some guidance as to where he would be able to stay.

Making a Persuasion Check: 1d20+Charisma Mod(3)
Result:4

(hoo boy)

Gaia Frontier (5e)

Darunia

Pacing himself, Darunia slowly approached the gates of Frontier Town. He took a deep breath as he crossed his arms, eyeing up the gate before taking any further steps. Coming here had been a long, treacherous, and dangerous journey. In fact, it wasn't until the other day that he had decided to settle somewhere more permanent. He'd heard that humans often leave home at a young age, and an exceptional bunch would even avoid settling until long after their time had passed. The longevity of his kin was a very strange inversion, however. He was sure that he'd outlived several others, and had concluded that he'd spent as much time wandering as it had taken for a human to be born, start a family, and perish. For several weeks, Darunia had thought about what it had meant to live a successful life. Was success measured in how rich you were when your time came? Was it measured in sheer strength? Perhaps, even, it was measured in avoiding death entirely...

He concluded that each person had their own qualifier for success, something that gives them joy when it is acquired. He'd met several people on his travels, and all of them seemed to derive pleasure from different things. He'd made friends with a gnome a long time ago who enjoyed stealing things, and he'd met a bunch of orcs who really seemed to have fun kicking in the ribs of Drow. Darunia, himself, had concluded that he had a passion for sneaking around and discovering things. He had a tendency to pry where he shouldn't, something that had gotten him in trouble quite a long time ago. A fist formed in his hand as he thought back to that fateful day. He would return one day when he had the means to crush that disgusting wench and her lackeys... He was just biding his time. Really. Revenge was the second item on his To-Do List. Before he could enact revenge on anyone or anything, he needed tools to help him achieve this goal.

Tools are extensions of the person, and are needed to accomplish goals that one cannot achieve alone. This was one of the few lessons that remained in his head after he was cast out of the Drow society. Anything that he could get his hands on would be useful to him in one way or another. Weapons are useful for cutting lives shorter, and faster. Gold is useful for greasing palms and convincing even the most immovable warriors to raise a blade for him. It was also, obviously, useful in ensuring he gets a warm place to sleep, transportation, food, armor... Darunia blinked twice in mild surprise. He'd never really considered just how useful gold was beyond transportation and food. Opening his bag, he counted out all 15 of the GP he had managed to hang onto since he had arrived here. Its shiny face was almost breathtaking to the young Drow, but he knew he'd need a lot more if he wanted to get anywhere.

Spending such a long time on the road wasn't getting him any closer to his goal, he had realized a long time ago. He needed... something. Anything. His little possessions were goods he had stolen a long time ago, sent into exile with naught but the clothes on his back. He needed to capitalize on his abilities, as he had nothing. His first order of business would be to procure a weapon of some sort. A tool that would carry him much farther in the city with than without. From there, he could figure out where to go, but before he would even consider heading anywhere, he would have to acquire some form of security. Darunia swung his fists in front of him, clapping his hands when they met at their apex. For the first time in at least 50 years, Darunia had come up with a plan, and a way to change his life. With a drawn-out deep breath, Darunia slowly walked towards the entrance, steeling himself for whatever hardships may wait ahead.

Gaia Frontier (5e)

Darunia Genmaris

Name: Darunia Genmaris

Race: Drow

Age: 113

Gender: Male

Appearance:

Darunia

Level: 0

Proficiency: +1

Health: 2/2

Stats:

Strength - 12 (+1)

Dexterity - 14 (+2)

Constitution - 12 (+1)

Intelligence - 10 (+0)

Wisdom - 12 (+1)

Charisma - 16 (+3)

Proficient Skills: Perception(+1), Deception(+4), Stealth(+3),

Proficient Tools: Playing cards, Thieves' tools.

Traits:

Darkvision - You can see in dim light within 60 feet of you as if it were bright light, and in darkness as if it were dim light. You can't discern color in darkness, only shades of gray.(This involves your Racial Abilities, Background Abilities, and Languages)

Keen Senses - You have proficiency in Perception.

Fey Ancestry - You have advantage on saves against being charmed, and magic can't put you to sleep.

Trance - Elves meditate deeply, remaining semiconscious, for 4 hours a day in place of sleeping. You gain the same benefit that a human does from 8 hours of sleep.

Languages - You can speak, read, and write Common and Elvish.

Superior Darkvision - Your darkvision has a radius of 120 feet.

Sunlight Sensitivity - You have disadvantage on attack rolls and on Perception checks that rely on sight when you, the target of your attack, or whatever you are trying to perceive is in direct sunlight.

Drow Magic - You know the Dancing Lights cantrip. When you reach 3rd level, you can cast the Faerie Fire spell once per day. When you reach 5th level, you can also cast the Darkness spell once per day. Charisma is your spellcasting ability for these spells.

Drow Weapon Training - You have proficiency with rapiers, shortswords, and hand crossbows.

Abilities: None.

Inventory: A crowbar, a set of dark common clothes including a hood, and a belt pouch containing 9 GP, 5 SP.

Background: His distant family always had two words to describe Darunia: troublemaker, and curious. As a very young child living in an underground society of other Drow, Darunia had little restraint when it came to respecting others' belongings. No amount of punishments, chastisings, or forced labor could change his ways. A detriment to his family and his community, no one seemed to mind whenever he was exiled by the matriarch after a troublesome incident involving the theft of a very expensive idol. As he was sent out of the town, he etched the face of the Drow priestess in his memory: Sylmae Caiwraek. It was when he was 31 years old that he felt the harsh and painful embrace of the sun grip at his face, and for a while, Darunia became a drifter. A new outlook for life was placed before the Drow: he earned a distinct loathing for the sun, his curiosity was obliterated, and he held strong contempt for authority. How do you win against the one who sets the rules?

His penchant for sticking his nose in other people's business and sneaking around from place to place became a boon in time. His hatred for authority softened greatly as time passed, and he came to respect the boundaries of others... mostly. Traveling from place to place cost money, leaving Darunia with the task of picking odds and ends with him from place to place, sneaking onto carriages for free rides, and selling whatever he'd taken from his previous stop in the next. This was not exactly a profitable venture, and it failed several times. The young Drow saw his fair share of prison time and then some, owing to his heritage. Jail gave him enough time to learn how to hide in the shadows, how to pick locks, and how to seal lips, but his most important lesson came when he met up with Lompen, a gnome footpad who was a regular in the jail.

Lompen saw potential in Darunia, and the two became literal partners in crime. In their time together, Lompen taught Darunia the secrets of breaking and entering, how to find what could and could not be pawned off, avoiding detection, and how to guage the routes of a patrol. The closest thing he had gained to an ally, Darunia was very grateful for Lompen's company, and the two became fast friends. This friendship shattered, however, when Lompen stabbed Darunia in the back one night after a heist gone awry. Leaving him stuck in a window, the young gnome has owed a massive debt to a local crime syndicate, and they had come to collect. Lead by a swarm of bloodhounds, a gang of angry orcs came to the trapped Drow and nearly slaughtered him in the one-sided battle that followed. While that night is one buried away by his mind, he will never forget the insignia that emblazoned the uniforms of the orcs: a red circle, depicting a bat with two swords being held in its wings.

Darunia fled into the night with haste, a kind he had never felt before. He fled to the sanctuary of the forest, his body screaming in pain. This incident was what sparked his seemingly primal fear of dogs and orcs, and sparked an interest in nature for Darunia. He began to take note of the creatures of the forest, their intricate designs and builds, how they fought for survival... It was in observing their methods that he was able to improve his own. On one fateful night in the forest, he soon found a new town for him to slink through: Frontier Town. He had a simple mission: learn the lay of the land, gather intrigue, and pull the strings of the rich to suit his own ends. His goal? To rise above the law of the land, and to eventually get his revenge on those who have wronged him. Sylmae Caiwraek, Lompen, and the group who nearly tore him to pieces that fateful night... They would all suffer under his heel.

Gaia Frontier (5e)

@Lucius Cypher

Great! Here's the character I've drafted up. Give me a shout if there's something that needs changing and I'll hop onto it as soon as I can.

Darunia Genmaris

Name: Darunia Genmaris

Race: Drow

Age: 113

Gender: Male

Appearance:

Darunia

Level: 0

Proficiency: +1

Health: 2/2

Stats:

Strength - 12 (+1)

Dexterity - 14 (+2)

Constitution - 12 (+1)

Intelligence - 10 (+0)

Wisdom - 12 (+1)

Charisma - 16 (+3)

Proficient Skills: Perception(+1), Deception(+4), Stealth(+3),

Proficient Tools: Playing cards, Thieves' tools.

Traits:

Darkvision - You can see in dim light within 60 feet of you as if it were bright light, and in darkness as if it were dim light. You can't discern color in darkness, only shades of gray.(This involves your Racial Abilities, Background Abilities, and Languages)

Keen Senses - You have proficiency in Perception.

Fey Ancestry - You have advantage on saves against being charmed, and magic can't put you to sleep.

Trance - Elves meditate deeply, remaining semiconscious, for 4 hours a day in place of sleeping. You gain the same benefit that a human does from 8 hours of sleep.

Languages - You can speak, read, and write Common and Elvish.

Superior Darkvision - Your darkvision has a radius of 120 feet.

Sunlight Sensitivity - You have disadvantage on attack rolls and on Perception checks that rely on sight when you, the target of your attack, or whatever you are trying to perceive is in direct sunlight.

Drow Magic - You know the Dancing Lights cantrip. When you reach 3rd level, you can cast the Faerie Fire spell once per day. When you reach 5th level, you can also cast the Darkness spell once per day. Charisma is your spellcasting ability for these spells.

Drow Weapon Training - You have proficiency with rapiers, shortswords, and hand crossbows.

Abilities: None.

Inventory: A crowbar, a set of dark common clothes including a hood, and a belt pouch containing 15 GP.

Background: His distant family always had two words to describe Darunia: troublemaker, and curious. As a very young child living in an underground society of other Drow, Darunia had little restraint when it came to respecting others' belongings. No amount of punishments, chastisings, or forced labor could change his ways. A detriment to his family and his community, no one seemed to mind whenever he was exiled by the matriarch after a troublesome incident involving the theft of a very expensive idol. As he was sent out of the town, he etched the face of the Drow priestess in his memory: Sylmae Caiwraek. It was when he was 31 years old that he felt the harsh and painful embrace of the sun grip at his face, and for a while, Darunia became a drifter. A new outlook for life was placed before the Drow: he earned a distinct loathing for the sun, his curiosity was obliterated, and he held strong contempt for authority. How do you win against the one who sets the rules?

His penchant for sticking his nose in other people's business and sneaking around from place to place became a boon in time. His hatred for authority softened greatly as time passed, and he came to respect the boundaries of others... mostly. Traveling from place to place cost money, leaving Darunia with the task of picking odds and ends with him from place to place, sneaking onto carriages for free rides, and selling whatever he'd taken from his previous stop in the next. This was not exactly a profitable venture, and it failed several times. The young Drow saw his fair share of prison time and then some, owing to his heritage. Jail gave him enough time to learn how to hide in the shadows, how to pick locks, and how to seal lips, but his most important lesson came when he met up with Lompen, a gnome footpad who was a regular in the jail.

Lompen saw potential in Darunia, and the two became literal partners in crime. In their time together, Lompen taught Darunia the secrets of breaking and entering, how to find what could and could not be pawned off, avoiding detection, and how to guage the routes of a patrol. The closest thing he had gained to an ally, Darunia was very grateful for Lompen's company, and the two became fast friends. This friendship shattered, however, when Lompen stabbed Darunia in the back one night after a heist gone awry. Leaving him stuck in a window, the young gnome has owed a massive debt to a local crime syndicate, and they had come to collect. Lead by a swarm of bloodhounds, a gang of angry orcs came to the trapped Drow and nearly slaughtered him in the one-sided battle that followed. While that night is one buried away by his mind, he will never forget the insignia that emblazoned the uniforms of the orcs: a red circle, depicting a bat with two swords being held in its wings.

Darunia fled into the night with haste, a kind he had never felt before. He fled to the sanctuary of the forest, his body screaming in pain. This incident was what sparked his seemingly primal fear of dogs and orcs, and sparked an interest in nature for Darunia. He began to take note of the creatures of the forest, their intricate designs and builds, how they fought for survival... It was in observing their methods that he was able to improve his own. On one fateful night in the forest, he soon found a new town for him to slink through: Frontier Town. He had a simple mission: learn the lay of the land, gather intrigue, and pull the strings of the rich to suit his own ends. His goal? To rise above the law of the land, and to eventually get his revenge on those who have wronged him. Sylmae Caiwraek, Lompen, and the group who nearly tore him to pieces that fateful night... They would all suffer under his heel.

Gaia Frontier (5e)

Hello there! It looks like everything's already kicked off, but I was wondering if there was still a spot for me to join?

D&D Fifth Edition: Land of the Old Curse

I'm on board for having a discord server, if everybody wants.

D&D Fifth Edition: Land of the Old Curse

Mark, the Warforged Fighter