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[heydude6]

Hello guys. Under the assumption that my character hasn't been rejected yet, I've changed the backstory (and the friends and contacts section, read it it's important) to make it a lot better. The improvements are major and are worth checking out.

You can see the improved version here. (don't worry, they are the same link)

I even managed to bring back the humor that was lost in the original version. Tell me what you think.
(I recommend using the full screen option)

Spoiler: you can also read it here (click to show/hide)

Welcome to Copper Alley, one of the shadiest slums in Kolos. Here, crime runs rampant as the criminals outnumber the law on a scale of 5 to 1 and can you blame them? I wouldn't. The death toll of an average raid is 60% while at least 1 officer dies every nightly patrol. The few who do tend to remain are horribly underqualified, any good guards tend to transfer themselves after the first night. Only the idiots stay.

But among all this death and stupidity, there is one anomaly. His name is Harry and he's worked in copper alley for about two years (a new record that he continuously breaks every day). No lawman knows how he survives the infamous streets but he does... somehow.  <_<

As far as copper alley guards go, Harry is awful! He can't follow a mark, is way to eager to listen to any piece of garbage a suspect can spin, and is useless in a straight-up fight. Whenever he encounters some perps (like a simple purse thief), he yells HALT! at the top of his lungs, even when they are on the other side of the street. Naturally this backfires and only encourages them to run since it alerts them to his otherwise invisible presence...

In case it wasn't obvious from the beginning, Harry isn't proper guard material. This brings up a few questions: "Why did he become a guard?", "How has he survived so long?" and finally, my own personal question "What's the deal with that black rose he keeps carrying around?". The only question I have an idea of an answer to is the second one. You see, although Harry isn't a good guard, he has a few other talents. Harry does not stand out much, in fact, no matter where you are, he always seems to find a way to get behind you, without your notice... just waiting to ask how your day is
(usually)

In the field of police work, this skill transfers to getting away from fights he can't win (did I mention that Harry sucks at straight up fights). Although, I do remember this one isolated incident when Harry managed to save quite a few lives. It was a bright summer morning, Harry and some other guards were investigating a suspect's home under the suspicion that he might be making illegal spell reagents. All was going well, until one of them found something in the basement. All the guards rushed over to investigate when suddenly, a metal cage dropped.

"Fools! You've fallen for my trap. Now all of you watch as I blow you up with my new invention, the COMPONENT BOMB MK1!!!!"

Did I mention the suspect was an amateur alchemist with a weird obsession with green robes and theatrics. It's hard to imagine what he would have gained from killing all the guards, but the most dangerous criminals tend to be the craziest. Of course, one of the rookies (probably from one of the more upper-class districts), not getting the memo asked:

"Wait, are you kidding me? Are you seriously expecting us to believe tha-"

*Twang!*

"It seems like the Golden Boy didn't realize that the punishment for asking questions is a crossbow bolt... TO THE FACE!!!!!!!!!  But let's get back to killing the rest of you now,. All I need now is-"

"HALT!"

And suddenly, without a sound (other than the sound of the HALT! itself), the alchemist dropped dead. Behind him was Harry, holding a bloody short-sword. When Harry let the guards out of their cage they all asked him a ton of questions about how he managed to escape the cage and sneak behind the suspect despite clearly being within his field of view at all times. The answer he gave was something like this:

"I... was in the kitchen"

After he answered that question, the guards then asked him why he only screamed HALT! at the top of his lungs when he was close enough to stab him. Harry said that he was just around the corner.


Harry isn't always in the kitchen though, and so sometimes, he gets captured. In situations like these, Harry is known to use (or improvise) a pair of lock picks to get out of whatever confinement he happens to be in. Weirdly enough Harry tends to get captured surprisingly often. Now, before I continue, let me just leave a disclaimer, I DON'T HATE HARRY, I just find the special treatment he gets to be a bit unfair. What I mean is that in a situation where any other man WOULD BE KILLED, Harry just tends to be captured instead. I don't know why but it is infuriating beyond belief, sometimes these men go through ridiculous lengths to keep Harry alive! One time on his day off, the inn Harry was sleeping in was set on fire. When the guards finally arrived, the fire had become quite a blaze. Suddenly, they saw two men wearing masks (presumably the arsonists) run inside the burning building just to carry a still sleeping Harry to safety. Many innocent people died in that fire, so you really have to ask, why did those men rush into a burning building to save HIM? Is it because of how relatively useless he is as guard?

Anyway, He's apparently going to be transferred outside of copper alley soon. Something about hunting down a Milestride Jack? They say Harry's experience in one of the most dangerous areas of Kolos, will be useful.

Anyway, in case you guys think that the aversion of thieves guild members from killing him is overpowered, I just want to say this. I added this because I thought it would make a good character concept, not because I'm a power gamer. There are many ways to write it out of the plot (and based on the intro it probably will be) so you shouldn't reject a character purely because of that.

[Criptfeind]

Alright. I finally finished my backstory, I spent a long time heming and hawing over wizard or sorcerer. Eventually landing on illusionist wizard. My sheet is very much unfinished. But with my backstory done I figure I can probably pound that out in like ten minutes when it's not two in the morning. So, expect that sometime later this morning.

Um. I tried a different way of writing my backstory this time around, not totally sure why (although that aforementioned 2 o clock in the morning thing might have something to do with it.) And ended up writing it chronologically backwards. IDK if it really turned out as well I had hoped. It might make more sense to read it from the bottom to the top, a paragraph at a time. idk... I'm going to bed.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Tharbadir Radnaud's life is dictated by change. Changing locations. Changing friends. Changing faces. Changing profession. Even his name, Tharbadir Radnaud, is just another in a long list of identities he's put on during his life. For the majority of his life he's wandered though The Southern Continent making her living opportunistically, storyteller, pickpocket, merchant, confidence man, gambler, cheater, he's been to as many places and done as many things as there are stars in the sky, or at least, sometimes he feels that way.

Tharbadir eventually found his way to Kolos, although not the largest city he's ever seen, it's also far from the smallest. Although at first he planned on only staying a short while, a few months, maybe a year at most, Tharbadir has found himself slowly growing attached to the city, or more properly, he found himself growing weary of his travels and the lack of having a home. Because of this his stay in Kolos has been much longer then he anticipated, and as months turned into years and he put down roots he found it harder and harder to think of leaving. When Tharbadir first moved Kolos he entered the city as a merchant, and for several years he worked that trade in the city and surrounding villages, of course, supplementing his income with various other projects on the side. Still, he did not husband his resources as diligently as perhaps he should have, and found himself after a number of years destitute. As always in such a situation, his thoughts and deeds slowly turned to larceny and fraud as his money dwindled. Perhaps, like had happened in the past, he would have eventually followed this path to it's conclusion and been forced to leave Kolos, or suffer an even worse fate, was it not for an intervention of a man who considered himself a friend of Tharbadir. A guardsman, but still a good man for all that. He had spent much time in Tharbadirs presence, gambling and drinking, and had managed to pry loose a few tidbits of Tharbadirs past when he was particularly drunk. Recognizing the direction that Tharbadir was heading, with a combination of cajoling, bribery, and threats, he managed to convince to try a novel concept, working for the other side of the law as a guardsman. Surprisingly Tharbadir found the job, although far more stressful and burdensome then any sane man would appreciate, at least tolerable, especially considering his current circumstance. At least as a wizard he wasn't forced to learn how to swing a sword about or wear that hot looking armor. Still though, this was the strongest tie he had managed to make to any location, and it served to keep him in Kolos for longer then he had stayed anywhere before. And it also served to keep him on the straight and narrow far more then anything had managed to do since his time as a student under his master of wizardry.

When Tharbadir was a young man, after vacating a town in the dead of night (knowing that if he stayed he might not live to see the morrow) he was running though the darkness when he tripped and fell over a lump on a hillside. With a curse Tharbadir hit the ground hard, but when he pushed up he found that he was unable, his limbs not obeying his commands. After the moment of panic over the idea that he could have injured himself so severely that his body could no longer respond to his will, he noticed that the darkened lump was now glowing with a soft yellow light, not to mention letting loose a stream of curses in at least seven languages. Tharbadir had managed to trip over a wizened old Gnome mage, who had, from the look of the smashed metal and glass besides him, studying the night sky with a particularly delicate instrument. The gnome apprehended Tharbadir with some sort of magical spell, confining his limbs and forcing him to lay still as he struggled to flee. It was from this unlikely and unpleasant meeting that he met the man who was to become known to him as 'master'. After the initial confusion the Gnome studied Tharbadir very closely, before eventually releasing him from his bondage and sharing a meal with him. Once the Gnome had become acquainted with Tharbadir he presented him with an ultimatum, to pay for his smashed equipment he required Tharbadir to serve him for a number of years, a one sided deal that Tharbadir found he literally could not refuse, and later to his surprise, learned he could not escape from. It came to pass though that the Gnome was not just a miserly old man wanting to punish a young buck for running him over (although there was at least a touch of that in him as well) but rather he had seen that there was something unusual about Tharbadir, in that meeting the gnome had seen a glimpse of the truth of what Tharbadir was, and he spent the rest of their time together subtly trying to learn more of this unusual creature. Although the Gnome did learn much of Tharbadirs powers (once Tharbadir learned a modicum of trust for the old man) if he ever learned of his nature or origins he never told Tharbadir. However, serving the gnome was not without it's benefits to Tharbadir. In assisting the wizard in his tasks Tharbadirs own talent for magic came to light, despite his wild origins and rough start, Tharbadir had a keen mind and a natural talent to learn magic. At the end of his tenure as a servant to the gnome, Tharbadir was taken on by the gnome as a true apprentice. A position that he was disappointed to learn was exactly the same, at least for a while, as his previous indentured servitude. Still, he and the gnome traveled together for over a decade. During this time not only did Tharbadirs magical power blossom, but his relationship with his master, the first real relationship he ever really had, grew. This had quite a tempering effect on his view towards others. The isolation Tharbadir felt slowly melted, and he could eventually start to feel like he actually belonged with people, instead of just being a thing that scavenged off of them. A marked improvement over his previous attitude. Not to say he was totally civilized after his time with the gnome, he still was far too willing to lie, cheat, and steal. He just did not have the malice towards other people in his heart anymore, or at least, not as much.

Tharbadir was a feral child. He moved though towns, stealing faces from one and using them in the next to beg for food or scavenge for scraps. She only barely managed to survive these early days, learning the languages used in the area as he moved, almost always starving and close to death. Her control over her ability to change was not nearly as refined as a child as it would be later in life, and so often he was forced to flee when his control slipped and his unnatural appearance attracted attention. Over time she grew little by little, and learned how to control herself somewhat better. From there she moved onto a life of larceny. When begging failed, she would take directly from the pockets of those who refused her. When he couldn't find the food he needed to fill his belly, he'd take it, sometimes from a market stall, sometimes directly from a home. In this his powers finally came in use. To steal with one face, and become a totally different person as soon as your pursuers lost track of you, was a boon that saved him more then once. She moved though childhood and her early teenage years in much this way. Picking up languages and faces as she went. Always thinking only of his next meal. She never trusted anyone but herself during this time, growing hard and bitter, always remembering every hurt anyone had paid her, each one adding up to yet another reason not to trust anyone.

Tharbadirs first real memories are of looking down at the drowned corpse of a small child, that was floating face up in a small stream. In a wavy reflection was Tharbadirs own face, identical to the child's. From there Tharbadir made her way to the tribe the child had wandered away from. At first the lost child was welcomed back with open arms, but it soon became apparent that something had changed, and she clearly not right. Trauma or something worse had rendered the child mute and barely responsive. The superstitious tribesmen suspected something, Tharbadir could see it in their eyes. As soon as Tharbadir was alone she stole away from the tribe into the night. She watched from outside the village, crouched in the darkness, as not long after she left the girls mother and father returned along with the village shaman and two men with long knifes in tow to inspect their daughter. Finding the tent empty they made ready to go out into the darkness with torches to search for the missing girl to rescue her, or find whatever it was that looked like her. But a deep dark fog rolled in from the night, and the tribe, remembering the horrors found after a similar fog four years ago, cautioned the parents from straying out in the night. By the time day came around and burned away the fog, the girl was gone. Eventually her body would be in a nearby stream.

Tharbadir was born to the far south, among the scattered tribes. On a ill fated night, his tribe rested in their tents as his mother went into labor, but strange creatures were abroad that night. Things that had escaped from behind The Dreaming wall crept into the camp under a shroud of dark fog. Unnaturally twisting and broken shapes moved though the walls of tents, silently tearing and rending living flesh. A cry went up from tribesmen as they realized what was happening, but it was far too late for them. Only a single soul survived that night at the camp, ripped from his dying mothers arms, the broken and crazed wraiths of the night took the newly born child, stealing away some part of him, but leaving something of their own behind in it's place. Several days later a neighboring tribe found evidence of the massacre that had occurred, but by then the camp was silent and devoid of any life.

[Dwarmin]

Yeah, we're narrowing down the players right now. We have 5/6 chosen.

[My Name is Immaterial]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

[PrivateNomad]

[tryrar]

I've always wondered what show that gif uses

[Dwarmin]

The hype must be false. Always!

[GiglameshDespair]

too much hype, game cancelled

[My Name is Immaterial]

[Criptfeind]

Alright, I actually finished my character sheet and all.

Remaining question (although of course moot if I don't get chosen). Is there a specific language of magic? Like draconic or whatever? If so, that'll be my third language.

[My Name is Immaterial]

[GiglameshDespair]

The final choices have pretty much been made. The answer will come later today with the IC thread.

Alright, I actually finished my character sheet and all.

Remaining question (although of course moot if I don't get chosen). Is there a specific language of magic? Like draconic or whatever? If so, that'll be my third language.

I can't check at the moment but I think it was often Draconic in previous versions.

[Weirdsound]

Hey, this is moot if I'm not picked of course, but I just noticed that my class gives me proficiency in one type of Artisan's tools. Is there a list of tool options somewhere to pick from? I can't seem to find one on my own.

[Dwarmin]

Tools pretty much replace the 'profession' skill in earlier versions of D&D.

Here's da list.

Alchemist's supplies (Call your doctor if you are prone to d100 side effects)
Brewer's supplies (Who needs a tavern? You ARE the Tavern!)
Calligrapher's supplies (Fancy writing is useful in magical scrollwork)
Carpenter's tools (No block of wood can stand before you!)
Cartographer's tools (How do you map the unknown? You don't-that's just how you make the unknown well known.)
Cobbler's tools (A good pair of boots is vastly underestimated in adventurer circles)
Cook's utensils (The mark of all humble Heroes-see, Samwise the Brave)
Glassblower's tools (Glass is a good conductor of magic! Right? *checks with gig*)
Jeweler's tools (Gems as well^. Or is it just wizards can't place world shattering magical enchantments in a tin ring?)
Leatherworker's tools (Strip the flesh, Salt the wound. Then make a pair of boots outta em'.)
Mason's tools (Rocks are cool! Geology is cool! Bowties...are cool.)
Painter's supplies (Remember our Golden Rule: A thin paint sticks to a thick paint.)
Potter's supplies (Not the most heroic of professions...)
Smith's tools (Everyone can use this, right?)
Tinker's tools (Is this universe steampunk, I can't recall..)
Weaver's tools (A nice crochet never gone amiss)
Woodcarver's tools (What's the difference between carpentry and woodcarving? Hmm..)

[Weirdsound]

Cartographer and Leatherworker fit the background best. Coinflip says Leatherworker's Tools proficiency.