Vor

The Great Hunt - a Wheel of Time RP

I too will have a post up soon, was planning on posting it today, but work has wrecked me so I'll go out and get drunk instead.

Forgotten Realms: Adventures of Faerun

Ready and willing, as always!

A Tolkien based RP: Out of the Past

Cole listened to Sapteth’s words and offered a few of his own, though it was idle talk, lacking the enthusiasm he had at first displayed. It was obvious that the man had little interest in talking to him and for once Cole decided that it was best to keep his mouth shut. He was glad that Branack had stood up for him, but the gravity of his words made him nervous again. The Dwarf seemed to have a very grim outlook on life, but maybe that was normal for folk who lived underground for so long. Either way, what he said was worth noting – whatever grievances this dark-skinned man had with the others and they with him, they would have to be settled before long, otherwise their quest would be doomed from the start.

Lost in such thoughts, Cole withdrew into himself again and finished his ale in silence. His eyes were distant, but they occasionally shifted to focus on either Branack or the stranger, Sapteth. Even the man’s name was strange, it sounded like no other he had heard before, be it of Man or beast. Cole was deadening the moment he would have to utter it out loud, knowing full well that he was going to make a mistake and earn a rebuke from the haughty Easterling.

The group Gweulon had assembled was strange, to say the least. Try as he might, Cole could not find a suitable reason as to why the Elf had insisted on gathering them. Would not a group of the King’s Men be better for such a task? Or why not seek the assistance of other brave knights, like Baranor? The Gondorian had told him that their numbers had dwindled of late, but surely Gondor could spare a couple for such an important undertaking? That line of thought led him to an even more important question – why had Gweulon not sought out his own kin? The Elves were always said to be wardens of ancient lore in the tales, did that not make them the best prepared for this quest?

Still, Gweulon seemed to have made his choice and had come to the realms of Men. Whatever council he took, it was doubtful that he would share it with the likes of Cole. The only thing the Bree-lander could was to place his trust in the Elf’s hands blindly. That, or return home to Bree, which no longer seemed like an option. He shook his head, banishing those thoughts and rose from his seat.

Cole bid the others a good night and made his way to the innkeeper. He paid for the night and headed upstairs, where he opened the door to a modest, but comfortable room. There was not much furnishing apart from a bed, a few chairs, a small fireplace, a worn-looking rug covering the wooden floor and a table, but Cole was only interested in the bed, so he hardly noticed. He got a fire going to ward off the chill, tossed his clothes in a formless heap on the ground and buried himself in the covers. Almost instantly he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The Great Hunt - a Wheel of Time RP

The Exile
Morning of the Hunt

Torin was examining himself in the big mirror adorning his room when the servant announced his host’s arrival. Instead of hurrying to the door immediately, the young lord allowed himself another moment to gaze upon his reflection. Truly, the washers in Lord Haron’s service knew their stuff. His crimson doublet was meticulously cleaned and ironed, fitting his form perfectly and even the shirt underneath had regained its pristine whiteness as if it had never been soiled by his time on the road.

“Tell Lord Haron that I will be with him momentarily.” he told the servant before turning to regard Nalin, who was busying himself with some of Torin’s other freshly cleaned clothes.

As much as he chafed under the servants his mother had saddled him with, there was no denying that Nalin was a very useful man to have around. He was erudite, well-spoken and deft, possessing that all-important servant quality of being readily available and inconspicuous at the same time.

“My lord, will you be wearing Lord Haron’s cloak today or shall I bring out one of your own?” Nalin asked, anticipating the question Torin was about to ask.

That was another thing Nalin was good at. Like any competent and experienced manservant, he was always a step ahead of his lord’s wishes and seemed to know just what Torin needed at any given moment. It was a rare thing indeed for Torin to ever order anything mundane overtly as Nalin had usually taken care of it already.

“The one Lord Haron so generously gifted, of course,“ Torin replied, “it will be seen as an insult to our host otherwise.”

Nalin went to the sleeping chamber and returned a moment later with the cloak in hand, which he fastened around Torin’s shoulders with a golden clasp in the shape of an olive branch curled around a sword – the sigil of House Somares. The cloak itself was of the finest silk, dyed a deep black that matched the shade of his boots and breeches perfectly. Golden thread adorned its edges, in the same hue as the embroidery along his doublet. In this, as in all things, Lord Haron’s taste was exquisite.

Torin nodded at his reflection, while Nalin was bringing him his blade. The serving man offered to help with the sword belt, but Torin waved him away. Clothes were one thing, but a swordsman should be responsible for his own weapon. With the belt’s buckles adjusted, he cast one last glance at the mirror and issued some parting instructions.

“Nalin, head down to the docks and ask around for news from Tear, I want to hear what’s been happening in my absence.” In truth, he was only interested in news pertaining to House Somares rather than Tear itself, but there was no need to clarify that unspoken fact. “Oh, and take Rosario with you. I hear he’s grown fond of gambling his coin away with Lord Haron’s soldiers and that reflects poorly on me.”

“My lord,“ Nalin began carefully, “would it not be more prudent for Rosario to accompany you on your trip to the Tammaz Square?”

“We are in the house of my cousin and friend, who just so happens to be one of the most powerful men in Illian. My safety is doubtlessly assured and I need not cast doubt on that by bringing my bodyguard along, don’t you agree?” It wasn’t a question and he expected no answer, so he continued. “Finally, see if you can’t find someone to mend the green doublet, I tore it while practicing my forms yesterday.”

The request left a sour taste in Torin’s mouth. There was a time when he would simply have ordered a new one, but these days his coin purse was tighter than it used to be.

“Of course, my lord. I have already spoken with one of Lord Haron’s seamstresses, I shall bring it to her shortly.”

With that out of the way, Torin headed to the door beyond which his cousin and host was waiting. There was a slight hesitation in his movements, revealing the inner confusion which had gripped him for the past few days. He still didn’t know exactly what Lord Haron wanted with him. The two of them were bound my blood, though not through immediate relatives; Torin vaguely recalled a mention of a great-aunt marrying an Illianer in the family records, but it was not a matter he had ever taken an interest in.

Thus, when he had received an invitation to Lord Haron’s estate, he had thought his cousin to be nothing more than a bored bureaucrat, eager for some juicy gossip from Tear. Torin had been naturally cautious, it was a known fact that Illianers were deceitful knaves and bastards for the most part, but he had decided to entertain the man’s request. Of course, the sight of the lavish mansion and the meeting with Lord Haron himself dispelled that notion completely. He should have asked Nalin, he was surprisingly knowledgeable of such things. Maybe then he would have realised that his cousin was the most powerful man in the city, save perhaps for the King himself.

Whatever the case, here he was – an honoured guest. Despite his busy schedule, Lord Haron found time to call upon him each day and, he grudgingly had to admit, Torin found him to be enjoyable company. The current head of House Gregoras was an energetic man, despite the grey in his hair he possessed the vigour to rival a youth. From what Torin had learned that was due to Haron’s tenure with the Whitecloaks, during which he had earned the title of Blademaster, a title which Torin had long dreamed of attaining.

He willed himself to focus on the present. He was here now and that’s all that mattered. People like Lord Haron seldom did something if it did not benefit them, so he was certain that being kept here offered some sort of advantage to his host, however small or irrelevant it was. Torin had politely, but firmly steered his conversations with Lord Haron away from politics, insisting that the sole reason for coming to Illian was the Great Hunt. And now that the day of the Hunt had finally come, there was no need to sour one’s mood with such grim thoughts.

Torin opened the door and stepped into the hallway, where he inclined his head in respect.

“Lord Haron, greetings! I trust I did not keep you waiting too long?”

The Topic of Dreams

Great topic, I've always been interested in dreams and lucid dreaming, even though it's not something I can see myself getting into.

I don't dream often, in fact most days I'm so tired from my day that I just fall into a deep sleep a few minutes after hitting the sack and wake up in the morning with no recollection of my dreams. It's strange, because when I was younger, I used to have vivid dreams and nightmares, but with every passing year I seem to get more and more grounded in reality? The few dreams I have now are pretty simple things, like relieving a memory from childhood or just dreaming that I'm late for work and horribly stuck in an endless traffic jam

Dreams have played a role in my life though, especially when I was younger, as I said. I remember this recurring dream, I'm going out on my balcony and suddenly the whole things snaps off and I barely manage to grab a hold of something as I dangle helplessly from the fourth floor. It always felt so real because everything about it was so...life-like? The exact sound the door makes when I open it, the same small crack on the balcony's railing that bugs me every time I go out there. It just had all these little details that made me believe that this time it's happening for real, only it's always a dream and I wake up with a start. Now, I guess you could say that's just a fear of heights and maybe it's so. But back then, I didn't have any fear or heights whatsoever, but I am afraid of heights now. Did my dreams fuel this phobia? Or was my subconscious mind always aware of this?

Another recurring dream I have is of losing one particular tooth. I swear this is probably one of the earliest recurring dreams I've had and it continues to plague me to this day (very infrequently compared to the past, but still). It starts with me waking up, going to wash my mouth and realising that I've spat out a tooth in the sink. Then I'm either pitying myself for being an ugly bastard or thinking "Oh my god, this is gonna cost a fortune for the dentist to fix" and then I wake up. I've read that it's something to do with self-esteem issues, a fear of smiling or fear of losing something. I dunno, could be true. I mean, I don't have a pearly white smile and my teeth are crooked (didn't want to wear braces as a kid, hindsight's a bitch), but I don't feel too strongly about it and I'm smiling and laughing all the time, doesn't feel like it's an "issue" to me. And yet, I keep getting this dream. How come? I keep asking myself.

But yeah, as I've gotten older I have such vivid dreams less and less. I remember that when I was in my second year of high school and had gotten really serious about RP'ing and writing in general, I started getting dreams again. This inspired me to write a series of loosely-linked short stories, to which I gave the rather unoriginal name of "Dreamscape". I tried to keep them as close as possible to what I had experienced and recalled of my dreams, though obviously I did get carried away artistically. They dealt with the concept of self and being, out of body experiences, drugs, addiction, sexual fantasies and other repressed thoughts which seemed to surface while dreaming. I kept at it for a while, but then university and a job happened and I stopped. The dreams stopped around the same time.

So yeah, I just rambled without providing anything constructive to the discussion, just throwing out some random thoughts.

PS. Do you guys dream in black & white or colour? I always dream in colour, but I have friends and relatives who keep telling me that they dream in greyscale. I've read interesting theories on the subject, from reasonable to totally outlandish ones. Guess it's yet another mystery of the mind we haven't been able to solve yet.

Let's B!tch. I feel it's a healthy release for our roleplay annoyances 2.0

<Snipped quote by The 4 Winds>

This is why when a fight arises, I always have a nice discussion about what should happen with the other person. usually in Pms or over skype. I haven't ever needed to take it to a GM.

@BrokenPromise

Yep, I've had the same experience in about 8-9 years of RP'ing. Collaboration is key to a RP, so I find it best to engage whomever you are dealing with directly so that you can air out your issues (if there are any) and see where each person is at. I must be lucky, because when it comes to it, I've yet to encounter another RP'er who has issues with their character losing. In fact, in most cases everyone is really eager to have their guy/gal lose, because it's pretty solid way of character building.

The only "fights" I've ever gotten into has ironically been with my D20 group, which is mostly composed of RL friends. Sometimes, you can't handle your mate wining, I guess

Forgotten Realms: Adventures of Faerun

The Harmach’s residence was not what Orun had expected and already his respect for the city’s ruler was growing. Instead of fanciful tapestries and gilded furnishings there were bare walls, with only a hint of decoration here and there, in the form of a vase or the pictures that humans seemed to love so much. Orun didn’t understand their fascination with them, truth be told; unmoving images of places and people that were usually long gone, there was no vibrancy or life to them, no matter how much these so-called painters tried to convince folk otherwise.

Swords and spears were placed in racks along the walls and arrow-slits every couple of feet provided a commanding view of the terrain below. It was obvious that the owner of the fortress took the security of his home and subjects seriously. That was the reason for Orun’s newfound respect for the Harmach, who seemed to be a pragmatic man that placed value in practical things, as opposed to the wasteful fancies of other nobles. A ruler’s home should be like his land – rich kings had rich palaces, while the Harmach’s keep mirrored Thar’s harsh and barren features, which was exactly as it should be, as far as Orun was concerned.

His would-be companions were a strange mix, but then again, what good adventure began with a group of ordinary folk? Even the stoic Orun smiled at that thought, as he made his way through Griffonwatch’s halls. The Grey Dwarf was certainly a rare sight, more so than even an Orc like Orun, which no doubt made the guards doubly anxious. An elven woman was the owner of the creaky cart he’d seen on the road and she had the look of a traveller or perhaps a wandering peddler. The other two humans that walked with their group seemed like the dashing sort that such calls to adventure often drew.

The thuds of Orun’s morningstar echoed through the keep’s hallways, until they finally arrived at the Great Hall, where they found the Harmach awaiting them at the head of a large table. He greeted them curtly, without any flowery preamble, and bade them sit. Chairs were laid out in anticipation of the guests and so Orun leaned his weapon on one of the walls before taking a seat. The chair groaned precariously under his considerable weight and the table trembled slightly when he rested his big hands on its surface.

“Harmach, I am Orun Greystone and I have come here on Kelemvor’s behalf.“ He began directly, repeating the words he had given to the guard sergeant. “Your lands are plagued by miscreants and the undead, it is said, and my Lord has seen fit to send his servant to investigate. You can rely on our continued support, as long as your plans do not go against the teachings of the Church.”

Having said his piece, Orun leaned back slightly, causing the chair to wince yet again. What he had said was not a lie, nor an exaggeration. Kelemvor had guided him here, he was certain of it – dreams did not lie, if one knew what to look for. Either way, he would find out soon enough.

Forgotten Realms: Adventures of Faerun

@POOHEAD189 I'll get something up before Saturday.

The Great Hunt - a Wheel of Time RP

Can't say I've ever done a present tense play-by-post RP before, but it sounds similar to what you do during a D20 session or in an MMO, so it can't be that hard.

The Great Hunt - a Wheel of Time RP

Torin Somares

Age: 24
Gender: Male
Nationality: Tairen
Race: Human
Class: Noble

Appearance: Torin stands at about 5’9’’ with a straight-backed and confident composure, which seems to add a few inches to his height and immediately marks him as a man of gentle birth. He has olive skin, black hair and brown eyes of similar dark hues. While not exactly handsome, his oblong face is pleasant to look at and bears no scars or markings, save for a small mole to the right of his lip. Like most Tairen nobility, he keeps his hair short and his beard well-groomed and drawn to a point, but lacking the oily lustre commonly seen among the rich.

Though lithe rather than muscular, Torin’s physique is defined and signifies he leads an active life; further proof of this are his calloused hands, ones belonging to a swordsman, not a pampered dandy. As befits a man of his standing, he dresses in a dark red silk doublet, worn over a white linen shirt, black breeches tucked into a pair of knee-high riding boots polished to a shine and an embroidered cloak to ward off the rain.

Background:
Torin is a scion of House Somares, an old and respected family, best known for their olive plantations along the coast near the city of Godan in southeast Tear. While lacking the power and wealth to be counted amongst Tear’s High Lords, they had significant land and the oil they produced was carried by their ships to markets in Tear and beyond, filling the House’s coffers. As a result, the Somares enjoyed an easy life and spared no expense in the education of their children. Torin was no exception and was taught all that a young man of gentle birth needed to know; he spent his days being tutored in riding and swordsmanship, history and geography, statecraft and strategy, manners and dancing.

He was the middle child, having an older brother and a younger sister. Torin’s father, the Lord Somares, was an irritable man and a drunk, known for his foul moods, constant criticism of those around him and a tendency for squandering the family wealth in taverns and gambling dens. The estate was mainly managed by Torin’s mother, Lady Ilira Somares, who ruled the family business and household with an iron fist. Since Torin’s brother was often away negotiating trade deals or parlaying with other nobles in Tear and his sister was busy with the family’s books, it fell to Torin to watch over the family lands, which were growing increasingly neglected by his father.

Such tasks came easily to Torin, who had proven himself to be quick and energetic, a capable rider and a natural with a sword from a young age. Though he lacked his sister’s head for numbers and his brother’s way with people, he was confident and driven, a quality which made him popular among the commoners. Even before he could grow a beard, he began accompanying his father’s captains on their patrols throughout the olive groves. As he grew into a man, he even managed to make a bit of a name for himself in nearby Godan after winning a number of duels in defence of his family’s name.

When the Aiel War began, Torin’s father and thousands of other Tairens left to join the war effort, under High Lord Astoril Damara. He raised the majority of the Somares troops and, to Torin’s dismay, ordered him to stay behind and look after his mother and sister, seeing as his brother could not afford to return home from his business in Tear. Around this time, he was trying to raise the family’s standing with a High Lord, a task of the utmost importance in the eyes of Lady and Lord Somares. And so, disgruntled and sullen, Torin saw to the concerns of the peasantry and toured the family holdings, while his brother and father were away winning fame and prestige.

One day, relatively early on in the war, a letter from Cairhien announced that the Lord Somares had died during the fighting, pierced by an Aiel’s spear. They grieved and then they awaited his brother’s return from Tear so that he could formally assume his role as head of the House. Unfortunately, that never happened. A few weeks before the war’s end, Torin’s brother was implicated in a plot against a High Lord, along with a number of lesser nobles and, worst of all, an agent of the Illianer king. The penalty for such a transgression was death, thus Torin lost two family members before the war finally ended.

The shadow of treason fell on the Somares household, their friends dwindled and many profitable contracts were lost. Their bad fortunes would not end here, however, as the man his brother had crossed turned out to be particularly vindictive. He used his influence to have the council of High Lords issue an edict, which saw Torin exiled from Tear. His mother and sister were spared the indignity, but Torin had no choice.

It should be noted that, for a man such as Torin, exile was the greatest blow of all. He grieved for his dead relatives, but for him, standing and pride was above all. As such, not only was the family name blemished by his brother’s betrayal, his own exile meant that the Somares household would have no one to restore their honour!

While Torin was making preparations to leave his home forever, word reached them that a Great Hunt had been called in Illian. Desperate, broken and thoroughly soaked in booze, he told his mother and sister that he would embark on the Hunt, seeing this as his only chance of redeeming himself and ending his unjust exile.

Desired equipment at the start of the game:

• Sword
• Warmount
• Saddle & saddlebags
• Deck of cards
• Bedroll
• Shaving kit
• A trunk full of clothes
• A smaller trunk containing books and a number of maps

Companions:
Nalin (Valet) -> A thin, elegant man in his late forties, as evidenced by his greying hair and wrinkling face. Originally from Andor, he joined the Somares household some fifteen years ago and became a personal manservant to Torin’s older brother. Rumour has it that Nalin is a noble bastard, who fled his country to avoid shaming his father. Whether that is true or not remains a mystery, but Nalin is certainly literate and well-read, with fine taste and exquisite manners, certainly above what one would consider of a servant. When the older Somares was executed, Nalin was acquitted of all guilt and returned to the family estate, where he was ordered to see to Torin’s needs during the Hunt by Lady Ilira.

Rosario (Bodyguard) -> One of Lord Somares’ former soldiers, served as a sergeant before he retired. Dark-skinned with wide shoulders, short bristly hair and a patchy beard. Accompanied Torin’s father during the Aiel war and then continued the fight along with the other Somares soldiers even after their lord had died. Despite Torin’s protests, he was assigned to protect the young lord at the behest of Lady Ilira, a thing she firmly insisted on. (+1 Con)

Level 1 Noble
Hitpoints: 11 (10 from noble + 1 con modifier)

Attributes
Strength - 16 +3 (High due to sword training.)
Dexterity - 16 +3 (High due to sword training.)
Constitution - 13 +1 (Slightly high due to a comfortable noble life.)
Intelligence - 13 +1 (Slightly high due to noble education and a life of managing the estate.)
Wisdom - 11 +0 (Normal.)
Charisma - 11 +0 (Normal.)

Skills
Balance (2)
(*)Concentration (4)
(*)Diplomacy (2)
(*)Ride (4)
Geographical Knowledge (1)
(*)Knowledge of Nobility and Royalty (2)
(*)Knowledge of the Karaethon Cycle (2)

Point spread

4 points - Balance (non-class)
4 points - Concentration
2 points - Diplomacy
4 points - Ride
2 points - Geographical Knowledge (non-class)
2 points - Knowledge of Nobility and Royalty
2 points - Knowledge of the Karaethon Cycle

Total Spent Points: 20

Feats (available from 3rd level):
N/A