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@Wired No worries. Minor issue and I still managed to use it for a foreshadow so it served a purpose.
@Superfly Oh, that does change somethings. How about if you can swim indefinitely underwater or if your a known merchant? If the city cuts off all commerce it would starve would it not? Twould be like a self imposed siege.
Posting a basic skeleton for that Bosmer underling, nothing OP just hench-fodder. Just want to make sure his abilities are defined so I can't just pull stuff out of my ass.
name: Griffar
race: Bosmer
sex: male
skills: Sneak (adept) One Hand (apprentice) Archery (novice) Picklock (apprentice) Acrobatics (apprentice) Athletics (novice) Light Armor (novice)
equipment: steel short sword, leather armor, yew longbow and iron arrows, small stockpile of gold
background: Griffar's parents were refugees from Valenwood who left to escape dominion rule. They settled in Bravil, but died soonafter leaving their son an orphan. Griffar spent his early life as a freelance thief in Bravil, but always dreamed of leaving the city and striking out on his own. After a particularly juicy score, he outfitted himself with gear and set out to explore a nearby ruin that rumors insisted had lain unexplored for decades.
name: Griffar
race: Bosmer
sex: male
skills: Sneak (adept) One Hand (apprentice) Archery (novice) Picklock (apprentice) Acrobatics (apprentice) Athletics (novice) Light Armor (novice)
equipment: steel short sword, leather armor, yew longbow and iron arrows, small stockpile of gold
background: Griffar's parents were refugees from Valenwood who left to escape dominion rule. They settled in Bravil, but died soonafter leaving their son an orphan. Griffar spent his early life as a freelance thief in Bravil, but always dreamed of leaving the city and striking out on his own. After a particularly juicy score, he outfitted himself with gear and set out to explore a nearby ruin that rumors insisted had lain unexplored for decades.
Zordon said
I will post for Margot in the morning. Long day of work. x.x
It's all good, steady pace in the IC is better than a rapid pace into a sudden burn out.
Yelond Cave, Outside Bravil
Dar-zel watched him from the water, brave he was, for a Bosmer, but that would not save him. He came like all the others, full of hope, dreaming of glory. He cut his way through her skeletons as if they were some epic foe. They were only bait. She watched him as he knelt beside a chest, taking, temporarily, the pretties Dar-zel had placed there herself. Like a child eating away at a trail of sweet rolls, stumbling further and further into the dark, ignorant of the witch whose home stood at the end. As he progressed he met the necromancer's more sturdy creations, not the deadly spawn of the Soul Cairn itself, but still formidable, headless zombies and skeletal guardians. The wood elf tired himself hacking away at bones and rotting flesh. By the time he encountered the wraiths, both he and the watcher in the water knew it was over. The adventurer crept back from the shrieking spirit before turning to flee with his loot and life intact. Instead of seeing the familiar passage leading up from darkness to light, however, he saw a lean shadow blocking the way and felt a blinding pain slip through the leather folds of his armor.
The stranger caught him almost gently as he fell, cradling the elf's quivering body atop the damp stone. Her eyes, yellow and glowing, hovered overhead like Nirn's twin moons at harvest season. "The word for it in your tongue escapes me mer," a gentle hiss emerged from the cowl. "Men call it a kidney, a funny thing, like a bean full of," she wet her lips, "blood... If you stab the bean, the pain, she is so great few can move." The eyes were joined by a wraith who swirled overhead like mist. Dar-zel shooed it away with a claw before her gaze returned to the Bosmer hero. "Can you feel it? Your life's sap is leaving you, landstrider. Normally Dar-zel would take her fill and use your husk, but I find myself in need of... skilled labor." She placed her snout close to the dying elf and inhaled deeply. "You know Bravil well, do you not, it's corners, it's rooves, its filthy back alleys. You smell of it. Are you a sneak who thought to become an honest sword?" She did not wait for his answer but instead raised her scaled wrist to his lips, a single claw poised near the artery. "I happen to need a scoundrel, one who knows that wretched city. If you can be that scoundrel, you will continue to live... after a fashion. If not well... I a can always use a fresh corpse." The argonian grinned toothily, "you do not need to speak, I know it's hard. I might have sunk the blade deeper than I intended. If you want my gift simply," she touched his lips, "open."
A moment later, the answer she expected came and she slashed her wrist. Below the torrent of blood a new spawn of the daedra Molag Bal, a new servant of the Soul Cairn, shuddered into unlife.
Dar-zel watched him from the water, brave he was, for a Bosmer, but that would not save him. He came like all the others, full of hope, dreaming of glory. He cut his way through her skeletons as if they were some epic foe. They were only bait. She watched him as he knelt beside a chest, taking, temporarily, the pretties Dar-zel had placed there herself. Like a child eating away at a trail of sweet rolls, stumbling further and further into the dark, ignorant of the witch whose home stood at the end. As he progressed he met the necromancer's more sturdy creations, not the deadly spawn of the Soul Cairn itself, but still formidable, headless zombies and skeletal guardians. The wood elf tired himself hacking away at bones and rotting flesh. By the time he encountered the wraiths, both he and the watcher in the water knew it was over. The adventurer crept back from the shrieking spirit before turning to flee with his loot and life intact. Instead of seeing the familiar passage leading up from darkness to light, however, he saw a lean shadow blocking the way and felt a blinding pain slip through the leather folds of his armor.
The stranger caught him almost gently as he fell, cradling the elf's quivering body atop the damp stone. Her eyes, yellow and glowing, hovered overhead like Nirn's twin moons at harvest season. "The word for it in your tongue escapes me mer," a gentle hiss emerged from the cowl. "Men call it a kidney, a funny thing, like a bean full of," she wet her lips, "blood... If you stab the bean, the pain, she is so great few can move." The eyes were joined by a wraith who swirled overhead like mist. Dar-zel shooed it away with a claw before her gaze returned to the Bosmer hero. "Can you feel it? Your life's sap is leaving you, landstrider. Normally Dar-zel would take her fill and use your husk, but I find myself in need of... skilled labor." She placed her snout close to the dying elf and inhaled deeply. "You know Bravil well, do you not, it's corners, it's rooves, its filthy back alleys. You smell of it. Are you a sneak who thought to become an honest sword?" She did not wait for his answer but instead raised her scaled wrist to his lips, a single claw poised near the artery. "I happen to need a scoundrel, one who knows that wretched city. If you can be that scoundrel, you will continue to live... after a fashion. If not well... I a can always use a fresh corpse." The argonian grinned toothily, "you do not need to speak, I know it's hard. I might have sunk the blade deeper than I intended. If you want my gift simply," she touched his lips, "open."
A moment later, the answer she expected came and she slashed her wrist. Below the torrent of blood a new spawn of the daedra Molag Bal, a new servant of the Soul Cairn, shuddered into unlife.
@All There, I handled it using NPCs and without taking focus off PCs. Just be aware that though I can not Godmode, I can have an earthquake hurl your characters into a pile together if you guys keep insisting on avoiding contact XD
The soldiers and servants in view of the golem bade a hasty retreat. One soldier took a step in the direction of the Templar but seemed to realize at the last moment that he feared the dwarven abomination more than the Chantry's laws. Only one pair of eyes watched the display of forgotten magic with a calm, calculating demeanor. His name was Uldred, a mage marked by the robes and staff of a venerable enchanter. He studied the construction over the course of a few long moments before returning to the isolation of mage's camp. There he soon found the young upstart who'd taken it upon herself to experiment on the construct. Uldred grabbed the mage tightly by the collar of her robes, a penetrating gaze reminding her that on the enchanter's word she could be deemed a blood mage and face the horrific consequences. "I want to know everything you know about that creature. Your experiments are now under MY direction. Do you understand, girl?"
"Yes," replied Petra, using all her willpower to repress her indignation. "I understand."
"Yes," replied Petra, using all her willpower to repress her indignation. "I understand."
@Pernicious Nice post
@automaton I can't tell Zordon his character must sense what happened because it borders on Godmoding. Part of my RP philosophy is never telling characters what to do. I can make suggestions and I did, but I refuse to even make a judgement if my suggestions aren't followed. That is just like passive aggressive Godmoding LOL.
@All Let me explain why I don't want to introduce some NPC mage to interact with the golem. The RP already contains a host of characters and NPCs and whoever responds to automaton's post will be in for a back&fourth of at least a couple posts. I can't take that much screen time and give it to a random NPC. So if no one responds I just have to let it go. Maybe I'll have everyone just clear out as if it was a really bad fart or something, but I can't devote time to random NPCs when we're trying to get the group together and move the story. Remember we haven't even done the joining for the recruits so we are still in the prologue.
@automaton I can't tell Zordon his character must sense what happened because it borders on Godmoding. Part of my RP philosophy is never telling characters what to do. I can make suggestions and I did, but I refuse to even make a judgement if my suggestions aren't followed. That is just like passive aggressive Godmoding LOL.
@All Let me explain why I don't want to introduce some NPC mage to interact with the golem. The RP already contains a host of characters and NPCs and whoever responds to automaton's post will be in for a back&fourth of at least a couple posts. I can't take that much screen time and give it to a random NPC. So if no one responds I just have to let it go. Maybe I'll have everyone just clear out as if it was a really bad fart or something, but I can't devote time to random NPCs when we're trying to get the group together and move the story. Remember we haven't even done the joining for the recruits so we are still in the prologue.
If you want werebeasts or anthros just wait five seconds for the next werewolf/anthro RP to pop up on forum. Same with vampires, pokemon, zombies, dragons and ghastly High School settings.
That being said, there is something the GM will need to be careful about and that is convergent evolution. Try to think of a flying race that spends much of its time airborne and does not have wings akin to a bat's or a bird's. Try to think of an underwater race without fins like a fish or webbed feet like many aquatic mammals. These patterns repeat because they are the logical morphological option for these environments which means when tailoring something to such environments one might honestly come up with something that could be viewed as a bird or fish person without intending to make an anthro race. There's a fine line between furry/scaly simplicity and simply designing races that are adapted for their environments in ways that make evolutionary sense. Perhaps I can craft an example.
Name: The Orii
Description: The Orii are a subterranean species and are supremely adapted for life underground. Though humanoid in general shape, they differ from topsiders in many other respects. For one they are stooped and short, standing no more than three feet. Their faces boast beady weak-sighted eyes, all but useless in their underground realm. Instead they navigate by other senses, smell, hearing and touch. Their nostrils are gaping and forward facing like an animal's snout. These are flanked by long whiskers which tell them the dimensions of a tunnel even in absolute dark. Their ears, though they appear small and stunted, conceal acute hearing organs oriented assymetrically so that they can pinpoint the origin of the faintest sound in three dimensions. For clothing the Orii often wear an assortment of dirtstained cloth and remnants of surfacer clothes which they have scavenged, the tears often revealing much of their wrinkled, hairy skin. On their fingers, beyond the thick claws they use for digging, the Orii wear many rings and bracelets, showing off their most prized plunder.
Society: The Orii are arranged in a system of Guilds, a system, it is believed, they borrowed from human thieves on the surface, but for the Orii it became the basis of their entire society. Each Orii guild is arranged in a pyramid with stolen loot flowing up from the lowly dirt pads to the Guildmaster himself. The entire Orii culture revolves around theft and they work honestly for almost nothing, instead relying on their astounding digging skills to penetrate the most well guarded grainaries, vaults and treasure rooms. A guildmaster lives or dies on the basis of plunder. When the wealth flows his position is secure, but if it ever stops rivals will soon be looking to overthrow him. Orii choose their leader by a contest they also borrowed from human thieves called the gauntlet, a tunnel bristling with deadly traps, pitfalls and chained monsters. Guildmasters earn their rank by running this gauntlet and challengers dethrone such figures by racing them along its treacherous path. Orii language is like the rest of their society, stolen, a pidgeon tongue of a hundred different dialects including their own long lost native tongue. As a result almost anyone listening to an Orii speak their chaotic gibberish will recognize a word or two regardless of race or birthplace. Orii family life, like all other aspects, revolve around the guild. Only accomplished thieves who have proven themselves earn the right to breed and Orii females often demand expensive dowries of plunder before they will consent to a marriage. Polygamous by nature, the most successful Orii dirt burglars can stockpile as many as twenty wives. Guildmasters have been known to have upwards of fifty. Unsurprisingly Orii society is harshly patriarchal and females are often viewed more as another kind of loot than equals. Occasionally female Orii will prove themselves accomplished thieves but their struggle up the hierarchy of theft always faces extreme resistance.
So with the Orii I've taken lots of inspiration from animals because the adaptations simply make sense. Much comes from moles. The assymetric ears are from owls and the skin and general appearance are from naked mole rats. So will people in the world refer to my race as 'mole men' on occasion. I have no doubt. Is it anthro? Well, I don't think it is because the society and personality are not animal derivatives and the appearance draws from multiple species along with some fantasy tropes like gnomes. Still it stradles the line so only the GM can really decide. If we reject everything that has animal inspiration, though, we will have a world full of unrelatable aliens who show no adaptation to their environments.
That being said, there is something the GM will need to be careful about and that is convergent evolution. Try to think of a flying race that spends much of its time airborne and does not have wings akin to a bat's or a bird's. Try to think of an underwater race without fins like a fish or webbed feet like many aquatic mammals. These patterns repeat because they are the logical morphological option for these environments which means when tailoring something to such environments one might honestly come up with something that could be viewed as a bird or fish person without intending to make an anthro race. There's a fine line between furry/scaly simplicity and simply designing races that are adapted for their environments in ways that make evolutionary sense. Perhaps I can craft an example.
Name: The Orii
Description: The Orii are a subterranean species and are supremely adapted for life underground. Though humanoid in general shape, they differ from topsiders in many other respects. For one they are stooped and short, standing no more than three feet. Their faces boast beady weak-sighted eyes, all but useless in their underground realm. Instead they navigate by other senses, smell, hearing and touch. Their nostrils are gaping and forward facing like an animal's snout. These are flanked by long whiskers which tell them the dimensions of a tunnel even in absolute dark. Their ears, though they appear small and stunted, conceal acute hearing organs oriented assymetrically so that they can pinpoint the origin of the faintest sound in three dimensions. For clothing the Orii often wear an assortment of dirtstained cloth and remnants of surfacer clothes which they have scavenged, the tears often revealing much of their wrinkled, hairy skin. On their fingers, beyond the thick claws they use for digging, the Orii wear many rings and bracelets, showing off their most prized plunder.
Society: The Orii are arranged in a system of Guilds, a system, it is believed, they borrowed from human thieves on the surface, but for the Orii it became the basis of their entire society. Each Orii guild is arranged in a pyramid with stolen loot flowing up from the lowly dirt pads to the Guildmaster himself. The entire Orii culture revolves around theft and they work honestly for almost nothing, instead relying on their astounding digging skills to penetrate the most well guarded grainaries, vaults and treasure rooms. A guildmaster lives or dies on the basis of plunder. When the wealth flows his position is secure, but if it ever stops rivals will soon be looking to overthrow him. Orii choose their leader by a contest they also borrowed from human thieves called the gauntlet, a tunnel bristling with deadly traps, pitfalls and chained monsters. Guildmasters earn their rank by running this gauntlet and challengers dethrone such figures by racing them along its treacherous path. Orii language is like the rest of their society, stolen, a pidgeon tongue of a hundred different dialects including their own long lost native tongue. As a result almost anyone listening to an Orii speak their chaotic gibberish will recognize a word or two regardless of race or birthplace. Orii family life, like all other aspects, revolve around the guild. Only accomplished thieves who have proven themselves earn the right to breed and Orii females often demand expensive dowries of plunder before they will consent to a marriage. Polygamous by nature, the most successful Orii dirt burglars can stockpile as many as twenty wives. Guildmasters have been known to have upwards of fifty. Unsurprisingly Orii society is harshly patriarchal and females are often viewed more as another kind of loot than equals. Occasionally female Orii will prove themselves accomplished thieves but their struggle up the hierarchy of theft always faces extreme resistance.
So with the Orii I've taken lots of inspiration from animals because the adaptations simply make sense. Much comes from moles. The assymetric ears are from owls and the skin and general appearance are from naked mole rats. So will people in the world refer to my race as 'mole men' on occasion. I have no doubt. Is it anthro? Well, I don't think it is because the society and personality are not animal derivatives and the appearance draws from multiple species along with some fantasy tropes like gnomes. Still it stradles the line so only the GM can really decide. If we reject everything that has animal inspiration, though, we will have a world full of unrelatable aliens who show no adaptation to their environments.
I should point out that there is a bit of an imbalance. Seems like Bruma has almost double the characters.
Come on people, you know you'd rather breath the dank stench of fetid canal water and untreated sewage than some retched crisp mountain air.
Come on people, you know you'd rather breath the dank stench of fetid canal water and untreated sewage than some retched crisp mountain air.
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