Arelith "All Hallows Scrawl" Creative Writing Contest (Create an NPC!)

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Eira
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Arelith "All Hallows Scrawl" Creative Writing Contest (Create an NPC!)

Post by Eira » Tue Sep 27, 2022 2:03 pm

Come one and all, for October is a month of intrigue, spooks, and the reaping of ideas from the minds of the creative!

Arelith steadily grows in both world and playerbase. With new locations comes the need for new characters, and thus we now offer the opportunity for our many talented players to contribute in breathing more life into the setting.

NPCs! We love ‘em, we hate ‘em, we mock the 317th rendition of “The Arcane Tower doesn't appreciate the arts”! If ever you have wanted to leave your mark on Arelith, now is your chance.

The Contest

Write up an NPC and an accompanying short story featuring them that fits within the limits of a single forum post. Though they do not need to be Arelithian native, they must fit within the Forgotten Realms setting, and what is reasonable on Arelith. No, this does not mean a good-aligned ogre as Edward Cordor’s personal guard.

The entry must include:
- Name
- Race
- Gender
- Description
- Location (server and area)
- Short Story

You may also add:
- Stats as they might appear in an examine window
- Dialogue options and conversation
- Purpose (selling items? giving lore? potential henchman? replacing an old NPC?)
- Ideal outfit, head model, etc
- Class
- Anything else you’d like to include!

As was suggested in last year’s writing contest, have fun with it, but be humble in the concept.

Entries of previous and current PCs are not eligible. This is a contest for new ideas, not a tribute to figures of years long past. Entries that are tied to existing player factions, while not outright banned, are strongly not recommended. Think of how this NPC will be beneficial to many players and how it will outlast current characters and factions.

Terms and Conditions
By entering, you agree that:

1) Each entrant may enter no more than two NPCs.

2) You accept that your story may not be chosen or your concept might need tailoring to the server.

3) Your entry is not of, or related to, a previous player character.

4) DMs may use this NPC as part of events on Arelith. The more you put in your entry, the more they have to work with!

5) This NPC is not plagiarized from another server, game, or story.

All winning entries will be chosen on October 31st.

Questions may be sent to me through private message here, or over discord. Good writing!
Last edited by Eira on Tue Oct 04, 2022 2:39 pm, edited 1 time in total.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

Discord: eighra


Nelly Hope
Posts: 14
Joined: Thu Oct 15, 2020 7:19 pm

Re: Arelith "All Hallows Scrawl" Creative Writing Contest (Create an NPC!)

Post by Nelly Hope » Thu Sep 29, 2022 2:02 am

Name: Gunna Brine
Race: Dwarf
Gender: Female
Description: A hearty Shield Dwarf that is the captain of her ship the hammerhead.
Location (server and area): Senclif and/or Brog docks
Short Story: See attached below
Class: Swashbuckler
Purpose: Rentable Dwarf ship that isn't the penny rose

Bonus: Please add mimics to underwater encounters

The Ship Wreck - Chapter 1: Curiosity

Gunna Brine's father had often told her that trouble always began with an accident, a small event no one expected. One could lead to another and another, none seeming dangerous on their own. There was always something to think about, something to pay attention to, and so the aftermath of an accident became a cloud on the horizon. A cloud that followed you until you dealt with it.

''Cap'n,'' her first mate said. He was a lanky tiefling who called himself Fel. The rest of the crew called him Fel the Hard-headed and not just for the impressive ram-like horns that protected his skull. The man had never lost a fistfight, a brawl, or any sort of scuffle and he preferred to fight drunk. If he wasn't as salt as salt came (salt right from the Nine Hells, some said) she would have left him in Baldur's Gate years ago. But she liked him for being an outsider, though a dwarf and a tiefling on the open sea probably seemed like an odd partnership to others.

''Aye,'' Gunna said, following his gaze. ''I see 'er.''

There was a ship coming into view, emerging from a veil of sea-fog the sun had not yet burnt away. The ship was listing badly, a hole punched into its side where it was leaking barrels and crates like entrails. A merchant ship.

''We'll approach,'' Gunna told Fel. ''Careful-like, eh?''

Fel nodded and grinned, showing off a brace of silver teeth on one side of his mouth. He left the helm, shouting orders to the crew. Gunna produced her spyglass, a tool she had made herself so long ago she hardly remembered. A token from a life long since over.

They came about on the starboard side, and she got a better look at where the hull had been cracked. The dying ship was abandoned, or a ship's mage would have been sending sparks into the sky to signal for help. She looked around for Red, her own ship's mage, but the man was below. As usual.

Red emerged from the hold when the Hammerhead had slowed enough to drop anchor. He was also a dwarf, but from the North. He'd been a soldier, some said, and a bard. Now he was a ship's mage but he looked more like a merchant and acted more like a passenger. He wore a wide-brimmed, feathered cap and smoked hand-rolled gnomish cigars. He had one in his mouth now, the ashes dropping onto the flame-colored beard for which the crew had named him. No one on her ship used their shore names. She preferred it that way.

''Morning, Cap'n Brine,'' he said, chomping his words around the stem of his cigar. ''I must be a heavier sleeper than I figured myself for, what with you taking ships before I've even had me morning grog.''

''We'll be needin' a charm so we can have a look at 'er underside.'' Red liked to show a little disdain for pirating but she was in no mood for his jokes.

''Think it was the Blue Daggers?'' he asked.

''Wouldn't leave all this cargo,'' she said, scratching the coarse hair along her jaw.

''I suppose not,'' he said. ''Should I have the Hard-headed prepare the bell?''

''Aye, but I’ll be goin' in personal. Have a raw feelin' about this one. I want a look for myself.''

''Ye're the Captain,'' Red winked.

She paced on the deck as the crew prepared the diving bell. It took six men to set it up and they worked faster if she pretended she was impatient about it. Fel rejoined her just in time for her to hand him her effects. He had no time to react as she piled her coat, boots, sword, and axe into his arms. He loved to go down in the bell and she didn't want to hear any moaning about it.

''Red?'' she called. The ship's mage produced a twisted piece of copper wire. He spoke words of power in some elvish tongue and handed it to her. Next came a small vial of blue-green liquid but pulled his hand back a little when she reached for it.

He whispered, leaning in so only she would hear. ''It's the last one.'' Gunna nodded. Of course it was.

Chapter 2: The Deep

Gunna sank into the deep with the bell around her, up to her chest in water. She held some rigger's rope lashed to the inside of the diving bell and kept her legs moving so that she wouldn't smack her head against the leather dome of the bell. She checked the rim around the expensive glass porthole that was her only way to see out of the bell. No leaks.

The sea below was the same blue-green color as the potion her ship's mage had handed her. Shafts of light cut into the veil of the water, reflecting off the silvery scales of passing fish.

The light played and danced against the sunken parts of the merchant ship. She liked the bell, the thrill of it, and that it was a dwarven invention. It reinforced another thing her father had said, that dwarves belonged anywhere they could set their feet or drag their beards. He hadn't been thinking of diving bells but Gunna saw no reason to take the bit about feet and beards literally. All the same, it was nerve-wracking to have no ground at all, to watch your feet dangling over a void that light could not penetrate. She avoided looking down.

When the bell got to a depth she liked, a few feet above the lowest part of the wreck, she held Red's copper wire to her lips. ''Hold fast.''

Topside, Red would hear her words in his ears as if she was right beside him. She waited for him to relay the message.

The bell stopped with a light shudder that nonetheless had her reaching for the rigging. It was a good thing she did because the bell shuddered again almost immediately, this time a harder impact that moved the whole device, turning it about as the rope twisted with the blow.

''Something hit the bell,'' she said and waited again, watching through the porthole to see if she could get a look at what had hit it. A large animal could be dangerous, but the time of year was wrong for sharks. There was that to be grateful for, but what was it then?

When the bell was righted, she thought she could see the culprit. A barrel, plain and unmarked, and that was plenty odd. Most barrels floated to the surface if their contents were light or if they were empty. Something heavier or that could become waterlogged, like cloth, would inevitably drag the barrel to the seafloor.

Then Gunna saw something moving around the lip of the barrel. She saw a muscular, reddish tentacle feeling around outside the barrel and wondered if an octopus had somehow been trapped inside it.

Then it hit the bell again, this time much harder, slamming Gunna against the inner wall. It was no octopus in there. She clung to the rigging, trying to keep from swallowing seawater. All that bound her to the Hammerhead's crane was a thick rope. Something outside was cutting the rope free, severing the support lines that tethered the main rope to the wooden frame.

''Red, I'm bein' tumbled about down here. I may need ye to--'' she began to say, until another impact knocked the wire out of her hand. She felt for it, but it was futile. The wire was thick, dwarf-made, and would sink. She'd be alone in the depths. Or, she thought, fighting her fear, not quite alone.

The bell was almost on its side as the final rope gave. Gunna shifted to a lying position, face up, and patted her belt for Red's potion. The sinking of the bell was less chaotic than the attack had been, giving her time to bite the cork out of the glass vial and choke the contents down between sputtering breaths and crashing water. The liquid was warm and salty, but with a hint of sweetness that distinguished it from seawater.

She used the rigging to help her push herself toward the bottom of the bell, where she'd be able to escape. She was almost out when she heard a distorted ripping sound, followed by a flood of water moving through the bell. She looked to the dome and saw that the thing had torn a hole.

Gunna looked with horror on the amorphous tangle of tentacles and eyes that emerged partway from the barrel. The creature changed form constantly, shifting the size and shape of its tentacles and the number and placement of its dozens of eyes with every watery gasp she managed. The creature's eyes swam along its fleshy red mass, joining each other in small masses that then merged and changed, opening into crooked maws of jagged teeth.

She was trapped underwater. . . With a barrel-mimic.

Chapter 3: Trapped

Gunna felt Red’s potion take effect just as she started to feel the first seizures in her chest, the burning in her throat, and the knife of panic that all signaled she had begun to drown. To take a sip of Umberlee’s tea, as Fel put it. Red’s concoction spread through her body slowly at first, then quickened until she felt as though a wave of water had passed right through her. When it subsided, she could breathe the and felt lighter, more at home.
She used that feeling to power her strokes as she swam as hard as she could out of the broken bell, and onto the deck of the sunken ship. She quickly began to survey her surroundings for something, anything, to help her survive long enough, and took refuge under a set of stairs.
The mimic did not need to breathe and could outlast her. The magic of Red’s potion bought her precious time, but only so much of it. Gunna may have been unique among dwarves for her comfort underwater and at sea, but there was no competing with a mimic. Like an octopus, their amorphous bodies were perfectly adapted to this environment. Gunna’s compact, heavier frame was not.
She waited for the creature to make its move.
Gunna darted out from under the stairway just as the mimic sent two of its tentacles surging in after her. Her timing was a fraction off and she felt a tug on her boot. Her boot was sealskin, waterproof and light enough to not be a liability on a dive. The mimic’s grip was fast and sure, dragging her back as it reeled her in like a fisherman.
Inch by inch, she was being taken.
Gunna’s diving knife was all she had, all she’d expected to need. She pulled it and began slashing at the cable of red flesh that held her. The dagger had little to no effect. Gunna refocused and tucked into a ball. She made two rapid and expert cuts to her boot and it tore away, freeing her. She saw a small mouth move up the tentacle and it begin to chew on her now detached boot. Gunna stuck her knife in her teeth, turned, and started swimming as hard as she could, trying to put distance between herself and the creature again.
She scanned a nearby cabin for places to hide and spotted a barrel that had enough air in it to float to the ceiling. She started for it the second the mimic’s attention drifted from torn boot. Its tentacles erupted from the security of its own barrel.
They snapped in the water, she could feel their force, but fell short and slapped the cabin floor. She reached the barrel and grabbed for it, maneuvering it between herself and the mimic. The barrel was human-made and almost as large as she was. She had no time to test it, she had to trust that she could make this work.
Gunna spat out her knife and let it sink into her waiting hand. She then used it to pry the barrel lid open. It fought her, the escaping air pushing it around as she tilted it upside down and let its contents leak out. The lid had a length of rope nailed to it, a simple handle. She thought about using it for a makeshift shield, but no matter how strong her grip, the mimic’s would be stronger.
No, desperate times call for desperate measures. She ducked under the opening of her barrel and risked one last look at her enemy. She was horrified to see the mimic was pulling itself through the wreckage, using its tentacles to probe for structures to use as leverage.
Gunna squeezed into the barrel, pulling the lid closed behind her using the rope handle. The blasted barrel fought her more, tilting and turning, the lid refusing to secure to rim. She spat curses at the human’s poor craftsmanship.
At last, she managed to get deep enough that she could get the leverage needed to close the lid behind her, using the rope handle to keep it in place.
Now, if this worked, she’d have a reprieve. At least until Red’s potion expired.
Boys, she thought, now’s the time.

Chapter 4: Surfaced
Red confirmed the diving bell was lost, seeing the frayed end of the rope for himself. The crew’s initial shock only lasted seconds before their captain’s standing orders were followed and the ship made ready to run or fight.
Red crushed his cigar on the rail and tried to spot the first mate. He saw him just as the tiefling lashed a heavy rope around his waist and leapt over the deck.
“You drunken fool! The rope!” Red could see it slithering away and quickly planted a heavy boot on the tail end. A deckhand took over and secured it while he chanted the words and gestured the signs, then watched as the crew around him seemed to slow... then snap into unnatural speed.
He hoped the spell would reach the tiefling.
There was one other way he could help. Red pulled a sling to his front and laid hands on his dragon-leather drum, a priceless thing but well-used. He hummed a few notes, then set the flat of his hand to its work. The rich, heavy beat formed the pace for the sea-song, its words as old as he was.
It spread over the ship like a morning wave, traveling through wood and flesh and saltwater. This was a song of the ancient tones and every voice aboard rose with the words.

***

Gunna felt the rhythm in the deep and opened her eyes. She tested the mimic, shifting her weight, rotating the barrel. It was immediately rocked by probing tentacles.
“I’ve got a wee fortress, too, ye monster, she thought.”
Gunna risked a peek and was baffled by what she saw. Her first mate was a lunatic.
With a heavy rope tied to his waist, the tiefling was actually boxing the mimic, fending off its tentacles with a flurry of blocks and counters. He was definitely drunk, but he moved with grace and agility she didn’t expect.
And even still, he was overmatched, though his foolery gave her an opportunity.
She burst out of her barrel, straight for her first mate. She kept the lid.
One of its grotesque bulging eyes sliding to face her. Tentacles shot toward her like eels, but she was ready for them. She looped the slack of the rope handle around her arm. The mimic seized the lid and pulled.
She let go of the lid. She kicked off the flat surface and the lid slammed down atop the mimic.
Fel saw her and his mouth was twitching into a stupid grin. He held out a hand and she grabbed for it, reaching with her other hand to give the rope a yank. It was enchanted and drew them to the surface as fast as if it were pulled by a giant.
But they stopped short, Fel’s face tight with the pain of being caught between the pull of the rope and the pull of monster. It had anchored itself to the ship wreckage and a toothy tentacle found purchase on Fel’s calf
She set her knife to their rope, but before she even made it past the second thread, He closed his eyes, steadying himself, and then struck just below the knee. He couldn’t cry out, but his mouth opened and a stream of bubbles erupted in a silent scream. His body going limp in Gunna’s grip as they rushed towards the surface.
Gunna caught one last look at Fel’s leg being dragged down to the mimic’s hungry maw. The only prize it would have from her crew.
Out stretched arms pulled them over the rail and back onto her wonderful, blessed ship. She rested on the flat of her back, the air flooding her lungs. Her people raised a great cheer and surrounded them.
She rose and saw that Red was already working magic to stop Fel’s bleeding. The bard couldn’t regenerate a foot, but it was good enough for now.
The commotion died down and someone brought her hat and coat. Fel still lay on his back grunting in pain as he slowly began to wake up. He made attempt to stand and crew mates did what they could to calm him. Gunna was having none of it. “Get ‘im to me quarters and off that damned leg,” she barked. Red grinned and two men drug Fel off to rest, though under drunken protest.
She produced her spyglass and set her eye to the horizon. Before long, she saw what she was looking for. A distant flicker of light. A lighthouse, and land. “LISTEN!” she announced, and her crew snapped to attention. We come about on the port-side and north by northwest. Sails full. Red, pass what charms and spells ye can to the crew.” Gunna Brine shouted through distant thunder and, pulling her hat lower on her brow, eyed the dark clouds toward the south. The first drops of rain splashed on her cheek.

Nelly Hope
Posts: 14
Joined: Thu Oct 15, 2020 7:19 pm

Re: Arelith "All Hallows Scrawl" Creative Writing Contest (Create an NPC!)

Post by Nelly Hope » Thu Sep 29, 2022 2:24 am

Name: Thustrus Belladay
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Description: Young Guard and Mage in training with a distinct hatred for goblins.
Location (server and area): The Bramble Woods - Possibly the Bramble Wood Watch Camp
Short Story: See attached below
Class: Wizard (Enchantment Specialist)
Purpose: Guardsman for Cordor or mage apprentice to the tower... could be general merchant like the gnome just outside the Arelith forest in the Nexus Fall's area or the dwarf outside Bendir's gates.

The Goblin and the Pumpkin Patch - Chapter 1

The moon illuminated the silhouette of a frustrated goblin scout.

It was not the first time he had been far away from the lair, but it was one of the first times his rations had been depleted out halfway through the voyage. The goblin grunted a curse and stomped his foot in annoyance. They could not have run out since the last raided village had enough salted meat to last for weeks. The grip on his steel spear tightened.

The beating of drums broke the silence and immediately caught his attention. Sharpening the eye, he noticed the shapes, still and haphazardly dispersed, about ten yards from where he stood. Between the shadows, the mysterious lumps weren't clear. It could be an encampment resting in the cloak of the night or the scattered remnants of a vicious battle.

He reluctantly drew his spear in a firm hold and set off to investigate.

The dispersed objects that the goblin encountered were entangled roots and bumpy rounded objects on the ground. He grabbed a root and used it to press the strange lumps. They were round, orange, bumpy hard skin, and a stem protruding from the top. He tapped it with the back of his spear, and it emitted a hollow sound. Suddenly, a mark appeared on its surface, a dark grimace and fiery eyes etched on the evil thing. The goblin recoiled and impaled it with his spear.

Another one moved out of the goblin's sight, crawling with tiny limbs. It jumped up from the shadows and clung to the goblin's back like a tick, making the goblin trash around. After shrugging it off his back he chased it in circles, like a dog following its own tail. Every attempt to crush the stranger orange creature was a failure as it easily ducked away from the goblin's attacks.

The goblin cursed again, louder this time, ''stupid STUPID monster, I eat you'', and with a final leap, he crushed the strange orange creature with a body slam. He struck it several times with his spike spear to make sure that whatever it was would be crushed, never mind cuts and bruises he gained himself.

As he stood up, he heard a familiar sound. A howling worg nearby. The noise was strange because the shrieks made no sense... It sounded like a dying worg calling to charge into a fight.

''Who's there? Show yourself!'' the goblin snarled, twitching his hooked nose and turning his head from side to side with an irked scowl, but no response came.

When he looked down at his feet, the slushy chunks were gone. In its place stood the intact orange thing, though this time it was stationary and with no face or arms or legs; now there is a small rodent sniffing around its base.

''Die!'' the goblin shouted angrily, spearing the rat to pieces and engulfing it. He devoured the bloody chunks, spitting out some bones.

He sensed something unnatural was going on but couldn't tell what. Everywhere he turned, the goblin came across more of the detestable earth bumps. He took the spear deftly, slashed through them, and then lured more of the little rats in his trap. ''Eat!'' he grunted at the rats.

He opened more in clumsy movements, not minding if he poked some of the rats in the process and scattered the pulp and seeds. Something tugged at the goblin's foot, but he yanked it free and continued to spill the guts of the orange things and feeding the rodents. He would occasionally scoop up a handful of dead rat and pulp, the combination tasting surprising well. He made a mental note to tell the rest of the clan of this field, nearly forgetting that he was attacked only moments ago.

One at a time, in pairs, in small groups, the rats began to crowd around and nibble on the orange guts, and soon the place swarmed with them. They came out from under the leaves, bumps, and stones, out of the bushes and trees. It was unnerving, so the goblin ordered them to spread out, waving his spear at them and kicking some as he trampled through the field.

Some listened and made way, but others behaved erratically. As if they were human children playing carelessly in the fields, a group of the little rats took each other by the paw, standing on their two lower legs, and danced in a ring. They spun around in front of the goblin's puzzled face, for whom it was all just a bizarre dance. He'd finally realized what he was seeing as he connected the dots, but it was too late.

''Sukoc,'' the goblin hissed before he kicked them and tried to sprint out of the patch with a sneer, in the opposite direction of the madness.

He had not gone very far when he came across one of the earth bumps. And it wasn't a normal one, no. It was giant, perhaps twenty times the size of others.

As he bounced off it, he fell to the ground and became entangled in the roots and vines. Unable to move, only looking upward at the floating abomination, An evil face showed itself on the lush orange surface in front of his eyes, and a deep, ominous voice reached the goblin's ears from behind.

"Sukoc.". . . Chills ran through the goblin's body before he felt the hard and cold monstrosity fall on his pinned body, he caught one last glimpse. . .

Faced with hundreds of red eyes, for one last time.


Chapter 2

A wizard must practice his spells and being on guard duty in an outpost miles from town left him with plenty of time to practice. Especially when he spots the dangerous, but seemingly lone goblin out in the woods.

The mischievous wizard watched from the bushes next to a leafy tree bed. With no other arcane masters nearby pressuring him into civility and restraint, Thustrus Belladay decided to have a little fun.

He had followed the goblin scout for nearly an hour in the woods, making sure it was alone. A single goblin isn't more than a nuisance, but a horde of goblins will quickly make you their next meal. With a little stealth and a bit of mage hand magic, swiping the unsuspecting goblin's supplies was a good bit of practice. It was a pity that good food got wasted on such a simple-minded creature.

With a flick of his wrist, Thustrus cast a cantrip as the clueless goblinoid advanced towards a pumpkin patch. The goblin approached them cautiously, poking them at first, and Thustrus took advantage of the distracted goblin. It's footsteps became unsteady at the conjured sound of the battle drums.

''Come closer,'' the wizard murmured and tiny wisps of magic, barely perceptible even to a trained eye, swam around the goblin's head.

The goblin approached the pumpkins and examined them, waving his spear, and striking them with its back handle. As hollow sounds came out of the battered fruit, Thustrus sent out a sneaky orb with a snap of his fingers that formed a grotesque expression on one of the pumpkins.

''Eek!'' the goblin cried out. Giving him no respite, the wizard conjured a small servant pumpkin, with teeny-tiny arms and legs the color of the vines. It snuck up behind the goblin, and leapt a few feet into the air, then the enchanted fruit clung to its back.

''Blargh! Argh!'' The goblin cried out again.

He gave an audible, but quiet chuckle, "what a stupid goblin" the wizard whispered with a devilish grin at the goblin's grunts.

Right after the goblin had to throw himself to the ground to crush what had climbed on him, a new trick cut through the night. The illusion of howling worgs startled the goblin and elicited a grin from the wizard. It was fortunate that the scout hadn't appeared mounted on one of those beasts. Hideous, sly, and not easily fooled by illusion magics.

The wizard sent another orb to restore the smashed pumpkin, surprising the curious little rat that had approached the pulpy chunks for a sniff.

There the rich orange pumpkin lay, untouched and lustrous, as if nothing had happened to it before the goblin's gawking eyes.

The wizard gloated over how the goblin was one step away from pulling out his three greasy hairs. The lone goblin, in contrast, was so furious that he speared the little rat he found. He devoured the pieces of the gutted rodent in a savage way, which reminded the wizard of a lesson from his teachings: Overestimating one's perceived power leads to underestimating the strength of your foe.

New orbs appeared at the tip of his long curved fingers. He didn't often get the chance to test an infestation, and as more of the crawling animals had appeared, it would be a quick affair.

With the orbs in position for the spell, rats appeared everywhere. Thustrus gave them some semblance of order, given that he had to prepare a final detail. A group of the rats made a ring by holding their tiny paws in a funny and curious dance.

"Ho, that's it, right foot, left foot!" The wizard directed them with one hand. With his other hand, he sent energy to one of the pumpkins near the goblin, who was distracted spitting angry shouts, trying to direct the animals. The pumpkin started to grow several times its size unnoticed by the goblin, who remained focused on the sea of rats.

"Sukoc." - The wizard recognized it, the word in the language of the goblins that referred to magic. The goblin stumbled through the pumpkin chunks, kicked at the little rats in his path, and ran with his spear in front of him. After a few steps, he bumped into the gigantic pumpkin.

Thustrus repeated the word just as he appeared behind the goblinoid. "Sukoc."

The wizard attacked the goblin, bounding him with the strong roots of the pumpkins, leaving it pinned to the fertile ground. Thustrus directed the small rodents' eyes at him, red and as shiny as ruby gemstones.

"Patience, " the wizard said in a firm tone, "your turn is coming soon."

With a spin of his arms and outstretched palms reaching the sky, the wizard raised the giant pumpkin, which moved slowly over the stranded goblin, forming a shadow that covered him entirely. "And now..." Thustrus held the fruit suspended in the air for a few seconds, then turned it over to show the hideous carved face one last time, and hurled it at the goblin with a loud splash. Stunned and cold, the goblin scout listened to the word in the common tongue,
"Feast."

The screams of the goblin being devoured by the little rats cut through the dark cloak of night.

zeroth
Posts: 24
Joined: Fri Jun 25, 2021 10:49 pm

Re: Arelith "All Hallows Scrawl" Creative Writing Contest (Create an NPC!)

Post by zeroth » Thu Sep 29, 2022 4:13 am

Name: Zalisstra Yauntyrr
- Race: drow
- Gender: female
- Description
The drow female is clad with spikes and in a robe adorn with fanatical inscriptions marking the sacred prayers to Lolth.

She stand upright with thin lips and walk with a note of self importance.

Her whip has a total of 5 scouring serpents, marking her as a priestess in favor of Lolth.

- Location (server and area)
Underdark server
Devil district in the temple of Lolth, near the altar

- Short Story
Zalisstra Yauntyrr was chosen from birth from one of lesser houses in the Underdark to serve Lolth temple from birth.

She was carefully selected through a ritual to Lolth whereby other unsuccessful female candidates were sacrificed.

She was instructed in the ways of the priestess and to bestow Lolth’s blessings to the faithful.

She is now ordained as a full priestess to Lolth temple and to tend to the services offered by the temple of Lolth in the devil district.

- Dialogue options and conversation
Speak faithful, speak the prayer to Lolth and I shall grant you blessings for your endeavors!
1. Prayer spell (turn based)
2. Shield of faith
3. Magical weapon

Offer me sacrifices to Lolth and I shall grant you greater blessings! (Unlocks blessings of spells)
1. Head of the troglodyte queen
-unlocks stone skin spell blessing
2. Head of the drider
-unlocks freedom spell blessing
3. Head of the mindflayer
-unlocks lesser mind blank
4. Head of a surface elf
-unlock spell resistance spell.
5. Head of a colossal bone golem
-unlock deafening clang spell

- Purpose
Providing spells buffs to Lolth faithful
Temple supplies of holy water and poisons

- Ideal outfit, head model, etc
Silvery long white hair with diadem of the cleric

- Class
Cleric lvl 30 with mind domain and forge domain

- Anything else you’d like to include!
A priestess tending to the temple of Lolth in devil district will be a good fit to encourage the worship of Lolth in the underdark!

Casts bestow curse if a surface elf or dwarf talks to her.

zeroth
Posts: 24
Joined: Fri Jun 25, 2021 10:49 pm

Re: Arelith "All Hallows Scrawl" Creative Writing Contest (Create an NPC!)

Post by zeroth » Thu Sep 29, 2022 5:11 am

Name: Melisstra Dlardargeth
- Race: Fey’ri
- Gender: female
- Description
This fey’ri have an exquisite facial features and is clad in a light roguish armour.

On her head rest two red horns, probably from a heritage of some fiend in her bloodline.

She carries a beast tamer whip and smiles with a few jagged sharp teeth, perhaps too sharp for comfort.

From her skin, a tattoo marks her as a folk from Sencliff.

- Location (server and area)
Surface area, Sencliff feasting hall by the henchmen.

- Short Story
A beautiful noble high elven sorceress from the arcane tower once worked with ancient magical artifacts from her research into planar conjugation magics.

She went against the her Order of high mages and worked extensively with the planar conjugation of fiends from the demonic planes to further her own prowess.

When she at long last conjured a demonic prince from the ritual circle, he was much unexpected; for the demonic prince was extremely handsome and now where her expectations of a flame tongue wielding balor of old.

The demonic prince on his end, was expecting to slay some foul necromancers for disrupting his hectic schedule in tormenting lost souls in the abyss. The meeting of the beautiful elven sorceress confounded him for a moment and he was strangely attracted to her.

He stayed his dark blade and they grew closer in time, spending much time together, and in time, melisstra was borned.

Her birth marked a scandal within the arcane tower, for Melisstra’s elven mother was stripped of her powers and banished. While melisstra was sold into slavery and ended up washing the docks in Sencliff.

She had a rough upbringing and now offers her blade as a henchmen to accompany lonely pirates on their regular sailing trips.

You may also add:
- Stats
Into 13 strength, 16 intelligence and rest into charisma.

- Purpose
High end henchmen for lonely pirates

- Ideal outfit, head model, etc
Head with horns
Cyric barb outfit

- Class
10 knight (valiant) 6 warlock and 14 hemomancer
Spells
Planar summon
Massacre
Grasping hand bigby
Last stand (knight)
Rallying cry

- Anything else you’d like to include!
For hire with anyone having enough leadership skill points.

Pife
Posts: 10
Joined: Mon Feb 08, 2021 8:19 am

Re: Arelith "All Hallows Scrawl" Creative Writing Contest (Create an NPC!)

Post by Pife » Thu Sep 29, 2022 4:12 pm

Name - Sneb ‘Beffers’ Prinquintaline
Race - Halfling
Gender- Male
Location - Thieves Den (Cordor and Planes)
Class - Rogue/Illusionist
Stats - Low Low Low Low
Outfit - Hood with gold mask. Clothes are a mix of opulence and rags, colours and contrast.

Description - A halfling draped in silks and precious metals. His mask appears to be wrought from pure gold, almost an inch thick. His clothes have been patched, but with each new addition the material used seems to increase in quality. He stands with his hands in his pockets, rolling back on his heels rhythmically.

[Spot 20] - Wouldn’t a pure gold mask be incredibly heavy and uncomfortable?
[Spot 40] - You suddenly remember hearing of an obscure artform practiced by the children of human nobility. Pah-pear Marsh-ay. You eye the mask, wondering idly.
[Spot 80] - That’s a mask of solid gold, without question.
[Spot 95] - Upon even closer scrutiny, it IS paper mâché. Whoever made the mask knew his or her business.


– Short Story –


‘This is it for you, you know. They’ll all be looking for you now. Imagine the price on your head… might be worth our friendship.'

‘Am not worried. Do a look worried?’

The man stared back.

‘I can’t see anything under that bloody stupid mask of yours.’

‘Do a SOUND worried, pal?’

‘No.’

The silence stretched out. There were some things that shouldn’t be stolen. Not because they’re steeped in tradition, or the lifting of such an item would break some code or be immoral or unethical. No. Some things shouldn’t be stolen because some people take things far, far too seriously. And to steal something from a far too serious person means they’re going to take you seriously, too.

‘So you’re just going to hide down here forever, then.’

‘Not ferever, just til ther ded.’

The grin, although it couldn’t be seen, could certainly be heard. The Hin walked backwards a pace or two, and kicked at the ground. An iron ring appeared from nowhere. With a flourish, a heavy looking key was brandished, appearing from within a sleeve. A nod to the trapdoor.

‘Funny wot gods can do wen yer in ther good books, eh? Av traded in a few favors. Reckon this is the moment ter try the whole spi-,’

'"Spider in the center of the web thing.’" The words rung with all the enthusiasm of lead on lead.

‘Aw… we-el. At the very least, av no view to die at ther hands, a much pefer sorter, gettin' away wif things. Thers bound ter be a few likely sorts out there… and if I can trick-, er-, convince a few ovvem to take Bes seriously, that’d be wotcher call col-oh-queel-ally as an WIN-WIN.’

‘And what do you plan to name this spider?’

‘Dunno. Spose al just make sumthin’ up.’



– Player Interaction –


Fumbling hurriedly with the lock for the hundredth time, you hear the telltale click. The heavy iron of the gate slides ponderously down on some unseen arcane mechanism, smoothly as ever. The metal surrounding the keyhole is badly marred; scratched out of frustration, hurry or simple lack of finesse. Picking locks takes patience, and some people have none.

Slipping into the familiarly dim light of the Den, your breath catches. You turn towards a faint glitter calling from the corner of your eye.

(Sneb isn’t always spawned, something like a much easier to find Planar Traveler NPC)

‘Wots this? Staring, are we? S’rude, you know.’

A Halfling has spread himself out on a pile of musty pillows. With his golden face turned towards you, head tilted.

‘No, don’ bother ter answer, hyper-fettical, pal. Meanin’ I don’ aktually care. Anyway, good effort wif the lock. Didn’ hear yer strugglin, wot a racket, usually. Can hear every snapped pick an dropped pin from this side. If I hear that, I hide. No use dealin’ with ammertoors, eh? An if I don’t hear nuffin, well. Too late ter hide, by that point. Eh? Ha-ha!’

1. Was that supposed to be a compliment?
2. I don’t talk to Hin, least of all Hin in /here/. Buhbye!
3. I must be going.

‘Well, take em wenyer findem, ain’t it? Nah? Your loss. Anyway, look, am lookin fer… lifters. Am a right zealous type, see? An it seems old man Bes just aint gettin’ the followers ee so rightly deserves. Am recruitin, after a fashion. You kno? Bes? (https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Bes)

1. Who?
2. Bes? You mean Beshaba?
3. Bes? *you flip a coin high into the air, only for it… to not come down* (follower of Bes only option + and/or SoH check)

Sneb stares up into the dark rafters where the coin vanished before turning back to you. His face is hidden, but you’d wager your last shiny penny that he’s grinning.

‘I do so ate a showorf. Rite, ere’s the script. Bes aint got so many followers, so those ovvus wif the rite idea who’re followin’ im already’s gotter do three times the work, ter keepim appy. You know wot ee wants, mischief and stealin. Just so happens pickin’ pockets is a two-birds-wif-wun-stone, kinda deal, see?’

1. What?
2. Sure. Obviously.

‘Listen, av more coin than I kno wot to do wif, so I thought ad give Bes back, fer all the times ee’s saved ma skin, aint it? So, av hidden fings on people who’re, er, not the type ter take kindly to bein’ given the runner-round. Also not the type ter spot a loose ring or fink much ovvit if they did, rite? Find some, show me, an it may well be ter yer benefit. Find em all? We-el, if you think a six-legged donkey’d be a fine prize, yer ain’t seen nothin yet, suffice to say, type ov thing. See?’

(There’s now a chance to pickpocket a ‘Gilded’ Ring from players lvl 20+. Rings are tradable. High SoH check for eligibility. Ring description - This ring looks like something special at first glance, then you notice the brush strokes in the golden paint.)

[Five ‘Gilded’ Rings] - Reward - A crumpled note in floral penmanship with numerous spelling errors that’s apparently for your Dear Old Mum. It says YOURNAMEHERE is doing very well in his new job as a Big City Lawyer and that she should be very proud.
[Ten ‘Gilded’ Rings] - Reward - A GET OUT OF JAIL FREE CARD. A stylized playing card depicting Brandobaris holding a key. I wonder what this could be used for? CHARGES: 1. Tradable.
[Fifteen ‘Gilded’ Rings] - Reward - Fingerless Gloves +1 DEX +4 SoH, +3 HIDE, +3 MS USE: Rogue’s Cunning. Not tradable.
[Twenty ‘Gilded’ Rings] - Reward - Key to the Trapdoor. A second bar under the Den, only accessible to those with the key and the search check to find it. Contains a group shared chest for all things underhanded, an exit portal source and the ghost of someone's old dog that fell down the trapdoor, never to be seen again. UNTIL NOW. Thieves need a rallying symbol to gather under, after all. I vote for ghostdog.
[Twenty-five ‘Gilded’ Rings] - Reward - Access to a quest to steal a painting from inside the Cordor Guard Garrison. First come first served, many people can have the quest but only one person can turn it in, ever. The NPC Sneb will canonically post a message or four to the guard and Cordor At Large letting them know that someone’s after their painting. This should get more players involved. Coin on delivery of any would-be art thieves. 'Just take the painting down so it can't be sto-, but it’s not the way of the Guard to remove paintings from the walls, that would mean admitting defeat etc etc. Not sure what Sneb would offer for this reward, but whatever it is would be the item that he stole himself that sent him into hiding. https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki ... _good_luck)

1. … what sort of fi-, things?
2. Sounds like a one way ticket to the gallows. Goodbye.
3. I’m telling! (Sneb casts time stop and darkness before attacking immediately.)
4. Tell me more.
5. I should be going.

Sneb gets up and pulls open a trapdoor you’d never noticed before, his hands blurring so fast that if you hadn’t heard the key turn in its lock, you’d never have believed he’d needed one.

‘Rings. Anyway, yer. Av not much more ter say tyer. S’wot the rings is about, let them do the talkin, aint it? Toodles.’

The trapdoor slams behind him, seemingly out of existence.

1. Right then.

Sneb is also a vendor and sells an ‘Improved Portal Lens’ at the cost of 10k each. They do exactly the same thing as the normal ones but with a 10% chance of failure.

Fume
Posts: 41
Joined: Thu Apr 14, 2022 7:02 am
Location: Australia

Re: Arelith "All Hallows Scrawl" Creative Writing Contest (Create an NPC!)

Post by Fume » Sun Oct 02, 2022 12:43 am

//I will post the story first for spoilers or you can just scroll down to the stats and concept at the end.




Short story


"If you confront this man, you will surely kill him" Geralds younger brother stated sternly. Gerald stared into the eyes of his paladin brother with the unflinching destiny of purpose that his own code as a paladin had embossed into everything he was.
"He has broken the law and refuses to repent. Justice must be served."
His brother, knew by that expression and tone that Gerald had made up his mind.
"Then so be it brother. I have tried to council you on your cause, lest your actions bring great burden upon your soul."

At last they met on the forest road, the wind howled through the trees and angry dark clouds swirled and crackled above.
Standing in an ash coloured full plate armour with a grilled helmet, Geralds nemesis stared back at him, a firey greatsword resting on his shoulder.

"You will surrender and be judged for your crimes of theft, or, you will be eviscerated!" Gerald stated ominously to the darkly clad individual.
Gerald wore shiny silver fullplate armour, the banner of his god showing brightly on the light talbard draped over his upper body.
The figure, clad in dark armour and clutching a greatsword did not move, protecting the stolen crates he had taken. His inaction and stare gave Gerald the answer he knew he would get.

Gerald raised his own greatsword and made for the figure, who readied his stance but did not speak.
"I give you fair and final final warning heathen, surrender or be vanquished" warned Gerald as the two met and began to exchange mughty  blows as lightning flashed and thunder boomed.

After a collosal battle which saw Gerald wounded in such a fashion he had not experienced for many years, he struck the individual down with a mighty drive through the chest.
The figure dropped to his knees and sat limply panting, propped up by his own armour. Blood began to pool around him.
Gerald stood over him triumphantly.
"None can escspe Helms law heathen" he scolded the heathen triumphantly. He pulled the helmet off the dying mans limp head. As the man looked up at him, blood seeping from the side of his mouth, Gerald face turned to one of horror and he stumbled back in shock falling over.
"It cannot be! You!"
The dying eyes of Geralds brother looked upon him once more. He coughed blood as he spoke.
"If a rightous cause ends the rightous cause of another, were either ever rightous at all? "
Geralds brother gurgled and his head sagged forward as he passed away.
"No" cried Gerald, fumbling for a scroll in his backpack.
Some vagrants appeared out of the bushes and opened the crates. They began unloading the grain sacks inside as one observed Gerald.
"He killed his brother over some grain" the vagrant pointed out to his peers, then they dissapeared into the trees with the food.
Gerald recited a ressurection scroll, but his brother did not return.
He recited another, and another, but his brother would not return.


Name: Gerald Maddock
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Class: Cleric, healer
Description:
A fair haired well spoken human male of middle years with a well tended beard.  A tall robust build and broad shoulders purvey the outline of a warrior but no weapon appears to be carried on his person. His modest priestly garments hint at his vocation and his expression appears both warm and intense as he regards you. He comes accross as a tortured individual who wrestles with his own thoughts and the philosophical conundrums that ethics and morality may present.

Synopsis
Gerald was once a holy warrier (paladin/wm type) who through an unfortunate turn of events dutifully eviscerated his own brother. It destroyed something inside him and some commented that he was a 'touched' individual after that event and for his views.
After vanquishing his paladin brother whilst in service to his owm god, heartbroken,  he renounced violence forever and never again picked up a weapon or did harm to others, be they civilised, beast or monster.
Both cursed and blessed as he sought respite from his guilt, any harm that he visited upon another would he feel himself two fold.
Now following his brothers patron god as a priest, he has been blessed with healing and an innate sanctuary causing non to do him harm. Wherever he travels, folk, monster and beast alike sense him as an ally and allow him passage.

He can be hired as a henchman, but he will attempt to paralyse any who do harm unto others and heal the wounded, be they folk, beast or monster. He will then try to reconcile all parties.

His views and ways have turned him into a hermit that lives somewhere in the hills.
Refered to as the healer on the hill,
he sells all manner of healing supplies.
He can cast extended regeneration spells and buffs for a fee.

If attacked, the reactions vary. Attacking him may invoke his powerfull undead paladin brother to appear and protect his living brother.
Attacking him may cause the gods to teleport him away to safety.
Attacking him may cause both of the above to occur.
If attacked, he dies.(but is respanwned)

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Fluffybirb
Posts: 5
Joined: Fri Feb 26, 2021 4:37 am

Re: Arelith "All Hallows Scrawl" Creative Writing Contest (Create an NPC!)

Post by Fluffybirb » Sun Oct 02, 2022 6:00 am

Name: Sam'ako
- Race: Goblin
- Gender: Male
-Class: Commoner
- Description: A shy goblin, draped in muck stained overalls and what was once a button down shirt. The clothes are far too large for the goblin, drawn in with a belt around the waist. He has a wide face, and a wider smile as he pokes at the pocket on his shirt. A frog pokes it's head out, not bothered by the small goblin patting and talking to it. Upon first being noticed he lets out a yelp and ducks into the foliage, though still watches. Once sure you are no threat, he slinks back out with a smile and wave.
- Location (server and area): Arelith Forest, Hidden Glade (Secret area that connects to Cricket cave, with the Ur Bear and Kings Crown), Surface

- Short Story: A Day in the Wood

Sunlight streamed through the canopy of leaves far above, creating a mosaic of shade and light upon the forest floor. Birds sing and insects flit through the air. Small animals move about, a deer and it's faun graze along a shaded pond. Frogs croak and ribbit, and water striders dart along the surface of the calm water. It is quiet, cool, and peaceful.

Suddenly, there is a flash of movement- a single moment of aggression and speed that breaks the calm. The pond has a strider less, not that the forest would care. A frog is fed, and lives on. Back to the calm, back to the peace. A pair of eyes open behind the frog large and looming. A flash of movement- another moment of speed and aggression. The frog is gone, not that the forest would care.

Sam'ako looked down at the small amphibian, squirming in the little cage he made with his fingers. He liked it here, it was quiet and calm. Food was plentiful, there were no people to boss him around. Tell him what to do. No people constantly marauding and slaughtering. Usually. He watched the frog as it calmed, and slowly opened his hands to peek at it. Brown and green, slick with big eyes. A smile crossed his face, he liked this one. Frogs were nice, they weren't mean like his old friends. That's why he came here, to get away from it all.

Walking along the game trails, he could move through the forest unseen and mostly unnoticed. The bears and wolves ignored him, the big dummies didn't like his smell much. The tallies were far more dangerous, with their sharpies and their stabbies. But, Sam'ako knew how to avoid them. He moved quickly, since he knew the way. Past the fallen tree that looked like log, turn right at the mucky river. Over the big rock with the raccoon living under it- and he was there. Carefully, he leaned down and opened his hands.

The frog stat, motionless for a long while. He watched, fascinated. Then, with a push and a jump, it hopped into the water of the stream. Dashing through the water, he stops at a flat stone, with scratches on it. Studying his list, he hops and jumps, whooping and cheering to the sky. He had found a new one, a slick-twangy jumper!

The day passed, the orange of the setting sun giving the hidden glade a warm shade. He sat along the river, watching the frogs hop and swim about. They were all a part of his collection, his friends. Each had a name, each their favorite bug, each their favorite spot. Sam'ako liked it here. He liked that he was finally around his friends, his frogs. But... having a slick-twangy jumper, he had all the frogs of the forest. No more new friends, and it wasn't like he could go meet more... Dejected, he looked down. Sad. He had his friends, but... no more.

Suddenly, a flash of inspiration. What if... there were others who could go get him new frogs? He had lots of stuff laying around, the frogs didn't like it all much. And he would take a new friend over an old stabby. Excited, he jumps to his feet. Frogs that were sitting on his legs dash away, minus one. His bestest friend, Brippy! He scoops up Brippy the Lazy-lumper, and puts her in her favorite spot- his breast pocket. A pat, a croak, and he grins. If he did this right, he would have a /lot/ more friends!

-Purpose: Sam'oke is a gobbo who /loves/ frogs. We all love something, and he just likes them little jumpers. He can provide a quest to players to go and find him new and rare frogs. These frogs will be located in far, out of the way places about the island, and give players a direction to these places. Such places could be the weatherstone, Red Dragon Island, the desert oasis, the Astrolabe, various planes, the Lowerdark, etc etc. With a direction and idea of where to go, players can go and find those rare and interesting spots. As new frogs are found (some could even be in places with a described habitat, and no actual direction). Frogs can then be exchanged for either gold or a shop of items the goblin has that could prove useful to players. The hope would be that those items are just as interesting and fun as the journey themselves, though input would be welcome on it.

Finally, it would just add a fun little quest to the game for players of all levels, outside of writs and leveling.

~~~
"Now iz time for strange froggy, yep! Iz called... fuzzy-snarler! Found in evil forest with wolf talls, very scary. You know what happen when werez-wolfs bite jumperz? Fuzzy-snarler!"

"Huh. On list is Hatted-stone hopper. Sayz is... frog from biiiig city. Maybe haz hat? All Sam'oke know, iz very soapit- sopfit- sofisticated! Go get! Go go!"

"Hmm... accordings to list Sam'oke make, up next iz... Cold-lumpy! Iz waaay up in mountain, where iz snow and ice. Not know how frog get there, but... iz new friend! Sam'oke /must/ have!"

"Yez! Youz do good, almost goods as Sam'oke at finding jumpies. Now, iz time for /reals/ test. Youz go and find... Scaley-Hot Biter! Yez yez, is very rares. In place far, iz full of... big lizardz! Dragon! Iz... Dragon Island!"

"You'z know... first Sam'oke think only jumpies friend... but tallie help so much. Sam'oke made new friend, with youz!"

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Preserver
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Re: Arelith "All Hallows Scrawl" Creative Writing Contest (Create an NPC!)

Post by Preserver » Sun Oct 02, 2022 10:51 am

~ IN THE SPIRIT OF SPOOK SEASON ~

Name: Talarindus, the Merchant
Race: Human (Undead)
Gender: appears to act and identify as male
Description: an odd creature with a quiet spring in his step, mix-and-match of elegance and practicality in his apparel, of which the most remarkable parts appear to be the long black coat wreathed around his body, and the frankly oversized backpack - reinforced as it is with wooden panels allowing the backpack itself to be turned into a small kiosk. It would all be fair and good, save for the fact that, rather than a normal head, the creature appears to only have a bleached skull, empty eyesockets framed in spectacles
Location: ideally switching spawn location in a few dark areas of Surface (Forest of Despair, Wharftown, Dark Spires, etc...)
Purpose: merchant of curiosities, tidbits of old lore, and items that, albeit not powerful, are considerably rare (he could, for example, sell some varieties of cursed/loaded dice, skull coins, rod-like items with single use casts, yet presented as macabre and gothic items) - the type of lore he delivers is mostly in the grim and macabre: tales of death and failure, yet told with an odd cheery attitude
Stats: high Dexterity and Charisma, as a merchant skeleton must be quick and suitably alluring!
Ideal Outfit: provided it is doable, a long black coat with a big backpack, and a skull in place of the NPCs' head
Class: not quite relevant for the sort of NPC, but probably some sort of dark spellcaster, possibly Undying Warlock


Short Story
By odd black nights, when the moon should by all means shine, yet is covered by clouds, a wizened Bendirian grandmother tells a strange old tale. She clutches a jewel box close to her lap, cataract-laden eyes gazing in the distance, attempting to glean a semblance of sight onto the lands surrounding Stonehold.

"Did I ever tell you..." she begins, talking to young Hin all around. "... of the Rattleman?" She asks, clutching the jewel box in her hold.
Some of the children shrug, others shiver, some show honest curiosity.
"He only appears in nights like these, when the moon hangs low but invisible, and the mist rolls down from Minmir through the lowlands, enveloping the old forest and the hills below. He always comes and night, yes... at night..." the old Hin starts to mumble, before a distant nephew of hers childishly pokes her thigh.

"AH! Yes... at night he comes. Walking on roads less travelled, carrying a lantern on his shoulder, hoisted by a long staff. He wears a hood at times, or a high hat, wrapped in a big coat and with an even bigger backpack on his shoulders. He will not stop at talk unless you talk first: not because he is rude, but because he doesn't want to bother. Yet as you first raise word... oh dear: he won't stop talking!" the Hin chuckled, thumbs scraping on the white porcelain jewel box.

"His words are soft and gentle, alluring in some way. He seems to know always what you need, always what you want: he's a merchant you see." as the old Hin started to mention commerce and trade, half of the younglings around her yawned and stretched, stood and left. They expected some tale of rattling Dragons, not that of a night-walking merchant!

"And as you start to listen, he lowers his backpack. It slams on moist grass and pierces the fog, and soon a strange light dangles from the kiosk it forms: shelves spring out, with oddities from the East and West. He stretches with sounds of snapping bones, and you can see his white teeth under the hood or hat, grinning, for he he will ask: how can I serve you today M'Lady? - and then offer you a spice from Malatra, or some dice carved in Hell itself."

As she kept talking, the foggy night around became gloomier, as if the tale itself was darkening the night. A few of the children felt the call of their family, others started to become unnerved and left - in the end, only three remainined, listening to the grandmother's tale. "M'Lady he said to me, heh... I was just the miller's wife, but he was very genteel with me. And he gave me this, you see?" She gazed down at the pale jewelry box. "For three gold pieces only!" She chuckled and clutched the box. "Told me there's a beautiful gem inside, that will keep me safe as long as I keep the box and crack it not. Well now you know how your grandmother has such good hips, even at her age!" She chuckled, nervously so.

The stars above were barely visible; at times the light shimmered in between wispy clouds, and as a few of them shone bright, the remaining children gazed up. The light was an omen, some thought: a suggestion that perhaps the night was old enough that they could return home and rest. A odd wind was rising, odd because it seemed unable to push away the clouds to reveal the silver moon above. "And with sure step he'll come at some point... I would so much love to buy something more, maybe have he tell me a tale of the places he visited!" the old Hin coughed, as the air grew cold and heavy.

A sudden sound made her tremble: as if a window had slammed not far. She gasped and bounced on the spot, standing from the comfortable grass she had been sitting on and turning towards a sudden source of cyan light behind her. Hands clenched onto eachother, and grabbed the fabric of her apron, to ease the tension and prepare to fight: as if the apron ever was a weapon for self defence.

Yet behind her there was no danger, was there not?
The kiosk merely opened atop the hill, with baleful spectral lights casting a spectral aura onto the goods displayed; onto spiders in glass frames, and a book filled with pierced and dried moths; there was a bucket filled with warm dice, and not far a bottle with an odd pink liquid, scented like roses. Skeletal fingertips scraped on the counter as the merchant leaned and whispered.

"How can I serve you today, M'Lady?"

The old Hin realised, in her sudden spook, she had let go of the jewelry box. It had fallen from her hold, and cracked on the stone of the lake below. She twitched a bit and gasped, as she felt an old creeping sensation weigh onto her body, ancient bones inside her feeling the crack and snap of age after such a long while.
The little box, she noticed, was empty.
As it had always been.




Some Dialogue Options
START - MERCHANT - Standing behind a kiosk that seems to have emerged, shelves and all, from his very own backpack, a skeletal figure in a heavy coat taps with sharp boney fingers onto the counter. "How can I serve you today M'Lord/M'Lady?" He asks with a congenial tone to his voice.
PC ANSWER 1 - You withdraw, studying the kiosk, and ask. "What are you? What is all this... stuff?"
MERCHANT ANSWER 1.1 - He chuckles and answers. "I am Talarindus, a humble merchant of fine and rare goods. A teller of tales, and occasionally a quite excellent mixologist - would you like a drink?" Indeed, he seems to have a few bottles behind the counter, together with the rest of the odd merchandise.

PC ANSWER 1.1.1 - "A merchant you say?" You move a tad closer. "Well, I suppose... show me what you have... ?" [OPEN SHOP (onto items and oddities)]
PC ANSWER 1.1.2 - "A mixologist? Isn't that what innkeepers say when they just mean they can pour ale?" The situation is bordering on the absurd. "Well, I suppose... what can you mix... ?" [OPEN SHOP (onto drinks)]
PC ANSWER 1.1.3 - "You look dead... what tales could you ever tell?" You pause, shaking your head. "Well, I don't see why not? Speak."
MERCHANT ANSWER 1.1.3.1 - "A tale then? Very well." He speaks with a chuckle and claps his skeletal hands, contemplating for a few seconds before adding. "What about..." [CUT TO tidbit of lore selected from a list]

PC ANSWER 1.1.4 - "I am not sure I am even remotely interested in anything you sell or tell, just... who are you? Are you dead? Where do you come from?" You ask, each question growing more urgent.
MERCHANT ANSWER 1.1.4.1 - "So many questions!" He strokes his chin, the sound of bone onto bone creeping down your spine through your ear. "I am, as I said, Talarindus. I travel here, there, very often everywhere, gathering all sorts of odd merchandise; I then sell it to those who manage to reach places just as odd, such as this, where we are now conversing." He gestures widely to the surroundings. "And if you are concerned of my skeletal predicament, worry not: I do not intend to harm you. I am just a humble merchant and merchants do not hurt their customers."
PC ANSWER 1.1.4.1.1 - "Am I supposed to believe you are just some skeleton selling goods in the world? There must be a reason you are like this, a story? What happened to you?" You stand now quite close to the counter.
MERCHANT ANSWER 1.1.4.1.1.1 - "You are supposed to do nothing, least of all believe any random skeleton that you happen to meet." He answers, with an oddly serious tone to his otherwise weird statement. "There is a tale to my predicament, as there is a tale to all, but it is not a tale I will tell: it is, perhaps, the only tale I well never tell. I know many other though, if you care to listen..."
PC ANSWER 1.1.4.1.1.1.1 - You sigh. "Very well then, since you won't tell me the only story I asked to tell, do tell me something interesting at least."
MERCHANT ANSWER 1.1.4.1.1.1.1.1 - "Oof, quite the tough customer, are you not?" He chuckles and dismissively waves his skeletal hand. "Not the hardest challenged I tackled, worry not - all tales I tell are interesting, one way or another. Let's see..." He pensively ponders, before snapping his fingers. [CUT TO tidbit of lore selected from a list]

PC ANSWER 1.1.4.1.1.1.2 - Frowning in confusion, you shake your head. "No, it is fine... actually, what about those odd goods you mentioned? Anything of real worth or is it just clutter?" [OPEN SHOP (onto items and oddities)]
PC ANSWER 1.1.4.1.1.1.3 - "All this is just... hurting my head." You briefly massage your forehead as you speak. "Do you have anything for that at least? What are the poisons on display?" [OPEN SHOP (onto drinks)]

PC ANSWER 1.1.4.1.2 - "Why trade here? I understand that you sell to those who reach odd places but... why? Would it not be more convenient for you and your clients to just do commerce in some big city?" The gloomy surroundings weigh heavy on the conversation.
MERCHANT ANSWER 1.1.4.1.2.1 - "An odd question: you are here, and so am I. We should both know why we are here rather than in a big city." He chuckles, before raising a skeletal finger to tap, with an air of wisdom and secrecy, onto by the hollow of his nose. "The texture of a merchant split in half: the first is with the quality of his goods, the second with the quality of their customers. I already know I sell excellent goods, but I need to search for long to find good customers." He spreads his arms afterwards. "And here we are!"
PC ANSWER1.1.4.1.2.1.1 - "That does not really make sense, I am not a merchant, I am here for..." You stop, however: would it even make sense to try and explain the situation to a skeleton? "Just... show me your goods alright?" [OPEN SHOP (onto items and oddities)]
PC ANSWER 1.1.4.1.2.1.2 - "So it is by some sort of merchant philosophy that you are HERE of all places selling drinks?" You idly stroke your chin: perhaps stopping to try and make sense of it all is the wise choice. "Very well, what can you mix me?" [OPEN SHOP (onto drinks)]

PC ANSWER 1.1.4.1.3 - "Well... I suppose." Though his words sound sincere, there is still an odd atmosphere around you. "Show me your goods then, there must be something intresting in that kiosk, right?" [OPEN SHOP (onto items and oddities)]
PC ANSWER 1.1.4.1.4 - "Sure..." The entire conversation has been bordering on the absurd, and your throat feels hoarse. "Mixologist then? What do you have behind the counter?" [OPEN SHOP (onto drinks)]

PC ANSWER 2 - You step away, for a moment ready for battle. As it appears clear that the creature does not want to fight, you merely leave, ignoring his words. [END DIALOGUE]

~ Lladria Sethassiel ~ (Dead!) - ~ Siobhan Gray (Departed!)
~ Elspeth Lynndain (Dead!) - Noasheel Xephrates (Dead!)
~ Yachta - ~ Providence (Dead!)


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Re: Arelith "All Hallows Scrawl" Creative Writing Contest (Create an NPC!)

Post by Edens_Fall » Mon Oct 03, 2022 4:12 pm

I've always felt the Unseelie Court was under-represented and utilized by Arelith. Even more so if we consider all the Seelie, Druid, and Elf areas/lore we have. So my idea is to help balance that scale a bit or at least open the path.


Name: Neve Frostwind
Race: Frostwind viragos
Gender: Female
Appearance: Tall, Pale Skin, Snow White Hair
Description: As envoy of the Gloaming Court, Neve serves as the Night Diamond's representative in the lands of Arelith. Her presence a cold counterbalance to the ever-growing influence of the Seldarine and Seelie Court within the archipelago.
NPC Purpose: Provide Unseelie Lore, Player Contact to Unseelie Court (via DM Use), poison vendor(?), Unseelie themed wares(?)


LOCATION
(Might need to form a small Grove/Cave/Sanctuary)
Area name is: Skull Crags (Upper Mountains)
Its dimensions are: 10 x 14
It is considered an exterior and above ground
You can mount in this area.
Area ResRef: skullcrags_upper
Tileset ResRef: tts01
You don't think you can fish here.

OR

(Off of Dark Spires Hot Springs Area)
Area name is: Cave
Its dimensions are: 12 x 12
It is considered an interior and underground
you can mount in this area.
Area ResRef: ar_fl_genericave
Tileset ResRef: tdm01
You don't think you can fish here.


ARMOR
Main Color: 164, 136, 136, 136, 139, 0

Chest: Form_6
Color: 139, 139. 255, 255, 175, 175

Pelvis: Form_35
Color: 255, 255, 255, 23, 175, 175

Neck: Form_3
Color: 255, 255, 255, 23, 255, 255

Belt: Form_66
Color: 136, 37, 136, 164, 175, 175

Robe: Form_30
Color: 255, 164, 23, 255, 255, 255

Shoulder(s): Form_0
Bicep(s): Form_1

Forearm(s): Form_186
Color: 255, 255, 255, 255, 139, 175

Hand(s): Form_4
Color: 138, 138, 167, 167, 255, 255

Thigh(s): Form_5
Color: 138, 255, 23, 255, 255, 175

Shin(s): Form_12
Color: 255, 255, 255, 255, 175, 139

Foot: Form_5
Color: 255, 255, 255, 255, 175, 139

Cloak: Form_31
Color: 23, 23, 164, 164, 120, 120


Short Story:

Cold wind, chilled by the mountain, danced through the small sanctuary. Its gentle touch sending the snow-white locks of Neve's hair into a torrent of swirls about the snow pale skin of her face. While the attentions of the Auril did not trouble the frostwind viragos, the comfort such affections provided to her guest was a far different affair. Sitting across from the envoy in her formal attire was a shivering man of an unimpressive nature, swaddled in thick furs. An offering of three frozen Grigs laid between them. Taking the iced presents with slender fingers, she spoke with a voice as dispassionate as the stone surrounding them.

"I accept your gift, thrice offered, and bid you speak traveler."

The man shifted nervously; the leather armor buried beneath his furs creaking with stiffness. " I seek your counsel, envoy of the Gloaming Court, so I might understand the wishes of my future Patron . . . and curry her favor."

Neve's hand gestured to the offering once more. "As is our custom, thrice you have offered gifts freely given and thus thrice I am compelled to answer your questions three."

Just as the man's chapped lips cracked with a smile, Lady Frostwind raised a single finger. "However, all things are balanced, and a favor given is equal to the value of payment offered." Her hand lowered to tap each frozen Grig in turn, "While the flesh of these summer fey is most welcome, its worth is common and thus I grant thee a single answer to a single question."

The man opened his mouth as if to protest, but then wisely thought better of it. After a long moment of thought he finally spoke. "The Queen of Air and Darkness . . . who is she? Truly."

Neve smiled as she replied, her voice the softness of freshly fallen snow upon a recently frozen lake. "Our Queen is the creeping thyme, slowly straggling the forest’s growth. She is the starving wolf in white winter. A drop of crimson blood upon broken bark. The stiff corpse under a blanket of snow. Her left hand sends forth the Wild Hunt, while her right welcomes the monstrous and malformed. She is the crunching bite of fangs on bone and the Black Cap Chickadee's song. She is the Night Diamond.”

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Re: Arelith "All Hallows Scrawl" Creative Writing Contest (Create an NPC!)

Post by Eira » Wed Oct 19, 2022 5:46 am

A reminder that this contest ends on Halloween, so make sure to get in your entries sooner rather than later!

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Arelith "All Hallows Scrawl" Creative Writing Contest (Create an NPC!)

Post by Mattamue » Tue Oct 25, 2022 3:38 am

Name Kirk Tent
- Race human
- Gender male
- Description 5"3'
- Location (server and area) cordorian, night reveler
- Short Story

There wasn't much going on, at least not as far as anyone could tell, but Kirk knew better. The arena crowd had filtered out hours ago and all the warmth of the night left with them. There were pockets of heat remaining. Little cliques who were still fueled by the blood lust of the arena battles. They huddled around their familiar faces and favorite corners, but their senses were dulled from all the drinking. The chill of the night was starting to set in and none of them could feel it yet.

Who is the audience for this post?


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Re: Arelith "All Hallows Scrawl" Creative Writing Contest (Create an NPC!)

Post by Margrave » Tue Oct 25, 2022 10:03 pm

  • Name: Lumi
  • Race: Outsider (Lantern Archon)
  • Gender: None
  • Description: "Often mistaken for more malevolent Will-O-Wisps, Lantern Archons are actually celestial beings. They are friendly and usually eager to give what assistance they can. This one appears especially excitable, taking messages from members of the Radiant Heart and delivering them across the island."
  • Location (server and area): Surface, Order of the Radiant Heart
  • Stats as they might appear in an examine window: Low STR, Rest Medium
  • Dialogue options and conversation:
    - The shining ball of celestial light oscillates vividly at your approach. You hear a sound like the distant ringing of soft chimes stretched into words: "Hello there [Rank here]! What can Lumi do for you?"
    - "Hmm, I am sorry, but I can't find whom you mentioned. Perhaps you made a mistake?"
    - "Of course! Lumi will carry the missive after you render tribute to the Messenger!"
  • Purpose: Lumi acts as a messenger, like the wisp keeper or a speedy courier. They take sacrificial offerings (GP) from the members of the Radiant Heart (i.e. anyone with a signet) to deliver messages on the server.
The Calling from on High
The ritual candles burn cleanly and brightly on the Triadic altar. The air hangs thick with the benevolent scent of incense rising from the platinum bowls engraved with sombre prayers. The hall is filled with a celestial hymn.
Before the polished stone kneels a figure in a white robe. The heavy tome before it was bound in white leather and gold, its pages rendered in silver, illuminated by scribes from the most secluded monasteries of Faerun, each letter an individual work of art: The Epiclesis of Barachiel.
The knowledge in these pages was handed down from the heavens themselves. Lore plucked from the dying words of martyrs, the sermons of saints and mortals whose eyes reflected the great oceans of the Silver Sea. Together these puzzle pieces create the foundations for the litany that now reverberated from the marble-covered walls of the Radiant Heart’s chapel.

The candles flare one, twice: the priest’s head raised beneath the white cowl. The platinum filigree crowning his brow shines with the starlight that now fills the chamber. As the congregation direct their gaze toward the ceiling they see reflected above them the inverted image of the celestial mountain. From some distant hallowed spring, a stream of radiance flows down the channels and slopes of Celestia, down to the shores of Lunia, where it envelops its target and carries it down to the Material and into the room where the petitioners wait with bated breath. The blinding brightness subsiding, the candles having been extinguished, the incense lingers for a while around the shape that has been brought into this world through invocation and sacrifice. There is a moment of pause, then confusion, then a half-suppressed giggle breaks the stunned silence.

“All this work for a floating ball of light, sire?”
“Quiet, squire.”
“But sire… it’s… it’s just… It’s a…”
“”Silence!”
“Of course,” mouthes the squire “I just thought we were summoning a new gate guardian and instead we get…”

"It’s Lumi!” chimes a voice like mithril bells rung with a fine hammer. The lantern archon pulses with some indignation. Its silvery hue takes on the ruddy glow of the breaking dawn at the insolence of the mortal.
A senior squire coughs. The priest scratches his head. They'd have to figure out how to explain this one to the senior council.

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Re: Arelith "All Hallows Scrawl" Creative Writing Contest (Create an NPC!)

Post by Brodgar » Sat Oct 29, 2022 12:37 pm

  • Name: Claddath Butcher (real name unknown)
  • Race: Drow
  • Gender: Male
  • Description: A hulking male drow, towering and with thick arms. Encased in a blackened cuirass, wearing the livery of the House Claddath and a heavy visor that covers his whole face. His right hand has a heavy serrated blade, covered in fresh blood.
  • Location: Underdark (Andunor) The Sharps (House Claddath), next to the sign that reads "CANDIDATES FOR TITHING HERE".
  • Purpose: Takes in captured creatures like the Slavemaster. Sells lassos and scraps (bones and meat).
  • Ideal outfit: Similar to the Claddath Brutes but taller and with a machete-style weapon with bleeding SFX for dramatic effect.
The small goblin was struggling to release the knot on the rope that bound his neck. Belgar, the male duergar that had the other end secured tugged the lasso and made the poor captive stumble and walk forward.

The ramp that lead to the ancient House Claddath was steep, flanked by two abominations that silently stared at the gray dwarf - who increased his marching speed. The warped monstrosities were made of parts of different beasts sewn together in a gross manner, the specialty of the landlords.

The triple-locked gates to the tower opened easily and Belgar kicked his prisoner inside and entered the threshold himself. The doors slammed shut as soon as they crossed them.

A chilling figure was awaiting the visitor: A tall and bulky drow male clad in the livery of the House, guarding the place next to a rusty grate. Red eyes glowed under a sealed helmet that turned towards the dwarf. A raspy voice asked in simple undercommon: "Volunteering or Tithing?"

The duergar was a veteran warrior, yet something about that dark elf ... about that place made all his insticts go into fight-or-flight mode. After a quick instant, Belgar regained his composure and managed to speak: "T...Tithing!".

He pulled the rope and brought the captured goblin forward. The small figure was petrified with fear.

The Claddath Drow simply extended his left arm, grabbed the unfortunate prisoner by the neck and raised it close to his helmet, examining the bounty with critical eye. After a minute of intense staring, he removed the knot from the neck and opened with a loud kick the grate next to him.

The eyes of the goblin watched the dark pit with horror for a brief moment before he was unceremoniously thrown into the darkness below.

The clinking sound of a bag of coins brought the gray dwarf out of his trance staring at the scene.
The raspy voice spoke again echoing under the helmet. "All tithes are known. Kindness follows giving."

Belgar took the small sack with a greedy expression and began to count the money.
"Volunteering or Tithing?" The Drow of House Claddath was staring at the duergar that raised his head slowly and horrified.

"No... I... I need to go" The stout figure turned quickly and ran for the double doors. His legs from him only stopped running when the Tower was well out of sight.

Belgar stopped and looked at his right hand from him, still holding the pouch full of money. "Bloody hells... why must they pay so well?"
Last edited by Brodgar on Mon Oct 31, 2022 2:18 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Arelith "All Hallows Scrawl" Creative Writing Contest (Create an NPC!)

Post by Mythic » Sun Oct 30, 2022 7:00 pm

- Name : Jorg son of Jorm
- Race : Hill (Or Stone?) Giant
- Gender : Male
- Description
An giant wearing old mismatched scar-covered armor pieces, An massive maul in his hand, truly a terrifying sight if he did not raise a hand in greeting, with an strangely pleasant smile and understanding in his eyes. The smell of freshly baked bread warms the nose should you approach.
- Location (server and area)
Various (Surface) near trade-roads, occasionally outside towns next to an oven fixture. Also by the grave of Jorm with fresh flowers
- Short Story
Known as Jorg the Giant, Son of Jorm the Giant first breadbaker & Fallen defender of Westcliff, First of his name, Jorg has recently sought out the history and outcome his father found whilst guarding Westcliff, now he wanders to preserve and continue his fathers dream of baking giant bread and protecting innocents.


- Stats as they might appear in an examine window
Strength : Very High
Dexterity : Average
Constitution : High
Charisma : High
- Dialogue options and conversation
To non-half Giants / Firbolgs
> Greetings little one, Come to test the bakes of the day? Sit, feast with me and share your tales of glory
> Open Shop
To Half Giants / Firbolgs
> Hail kindred, If you are hungry and tired, come join me and let us share our tales .
> Open Shop

> Gives Lore on Jorm the Giant (Giant Defender of old Guldorand / Westcliff, How he was a hero, Where his grave is)
- Purpose (selling items? giving lore? potential henchman? replacing an old NPC?)
Gives Lore on an old NPC, Could potentially be an Henchman, Helps new-characters as a "safety net" along trade routes, Also sells Bread and Water.

- Ideal outfit, head model, etc
Hill Giant with Armour

- Class
Fighter / Weaponmaster / Paladin / Ranger / Baker

- Anything else you’d like to include!
Preferably he would spawn with variable fixtures, Tent / Oven / Fireplace.
Howling around all year long

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Re: Arelith "All Hallows Scrawl" Creative Writing Contest (Create an NPC!)

Post by Royal Blood » Mon Oct 31, 2022 4:37 am

Umara
Wood Elf
Female
Dirt brown hair adorned with leaves flows down to her shoulders. Bronzed skin covered in patches of mud and ritual tattoos adorn the elves' features. Grove green eyes run deep as if they were a realm all their own. There is a presence of natural life that reverberates around her. Umara’s scent carries like a springtime breeze. The scent of earthy soil after freshly fallen rains intertwined with a vibrant green scent of living. She exists as a force of nature; soft and tender yet brutally capable of destruction.

Location: Arelith Forest

Short Story

In the silence of the deep woods civilization does not exist. A serenity of natural order prevails and spreads in thick foliage and abundant wildlife. The tender hand of the Grove Keepers lends aid to this order ensuring it remains upon proper course and that influences unnatural remain at bay. Here, Umara rests. Covered beneath the thick tree branches of home the very dirt of this place familiar to her. Each insect skittering, bird calling, and each wild animal prowling all existing as nature wills. Life, death, the cycle continues around her in perpetual motion.

While resting within the heart of the deep grove Umara falls into a deep reverie. Her mind gallops across the natural roots of the world like a breeze unrestricted by the confines of a fleshy body. What was real or dream could not be known in this state as her mind travels all distances and the song of life vibrates loudly throughout the dreamscape of her mind.

Amongst nature not all was well and Umara’s heart aches at the destruction of wars, the brutality of sinister unnatural magics, and the ruthlessness of mortal harvesting. Breathing life into nature only to consume it a moment later and not at the rate of it is destruction. A sensation of pity washes over Umara at the lack of understanding that the younger races endure. An ignorance to the natural order around them. Or if not ignorant, unwilling to listen to the song of life and instead wield it for their own pleasures.

Yet of all these natural tragedies the far island of Arelith draws her attention most. Fabled Arelith. Place of mystic powers. Potent goods and dark evils. Where the planar realms collide at an alarming rate and the balance of order is perpetually disrupted by the machinations of foreign powers; both of this plane and outside of it. A small seed of life exists within the Arelith Forests. Not entirely untainted, but potent enough to spread. And it is this urge to spread that calls to her. The spirits of the deep woods. The earthy grasses and life-giving soil. An ache and yearning. A new home calls to Umara.

Awaking from her reverie her mind returns to her body. The sensation of flesh and muscle returns and she exhales deeply. There was something calming and homely about returning to one's body. She soon gathers her things and sets off. Other druids cast her a glance as she departed yet the urge and will of nature was shared by all of them. There was no question as to where she was being led. Soon, she would arrive in Arelith’s forests.

((OIC INFO))

My idea for making Umara an NPC that players would want to interact with is that she might provide druidic writs. Similar to how the Paladin’s receive the Radiant Heart writs Umara might provide writs for Druid or nature class players. Nothing super complicated, I’d view them less as a viable way to level and more of a flavor sort of thing. Writs that would take players through Arelith’s druidic lore a bit.

Anything that sort of elaborates on Arelith’s lore and gives a narrative lens for players to view the Arelith lore in!
I am not on a team.
I do not win, I do not lose.
I tell a story, and when I'm lucky,
Play a part in the story you tell too.

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Re: Arelith "All Hallows Scrawl" Creative Writing Contest (Create an NPC!)

Post by Elesadi » Mon Oct 31, 2022 8:49 pm

Name - Jenika Barsk
Race - Human
Gender - Female
Location - Andunor, Hidden Cave
Description - An old wizened woman, back bent from years of work and toil. Her grayed hair kept within a tight knot apart from the few strands of hair falling down over her forehead. The expression that meets you is one of kindness, and it welcomes you to sit down and rest. Despite that, there is sadness in her eyes. One that has come from the experience gained during her long life.

Purpose - Jenika is meant to be a kind figure to those enslaved within Andunor. Able to offer comforting advice, and tell tales of the surface and hopes of a life after the collar. She can not aid in any of their tasks, but she rather fills the role of a caretaker. A gentle soul within the harsh reality of Andunor. As such, she would be able to offer the players random advice through dialog, focused on getting through the daily lives of a slave, as well as sell a few healing materials and a small selection of food and drinks.

Short Story
Pain.
The world had shrunk to that one feeling.
The wounds stung as Gena rested her arms and forehead against the bench in front of her. Her so-called mistress had taken offense to something again, and she had been subjected to a number of lashings as a result. It had taken all of her remaining strength to drag herself to the safety of the cave once she had been left alone.

As that pain settled, a tiredness came over the young half-elf. She was so sick of this. A weariness rested in Gena’s chest, heavy from the tears burning in her eyes that refused to fall. She missed the people back home. The smell of familiar food being prepared and the stupid jokes that had been part of how she spoke to people close to her. There was no such closeness now. Only the sense of inferiority and pain.

Soft, shuffling footsteps reached Gena’s ears as she sat there, followed shortly by something solid being placed upon the bench. Looking up, Gena found a steaming mug placed next to her, a sweet smell rising up along with the heat. Her brows furrowed in confusion at the sight, when something soft was placed over her shoulders, warmth enveloping her body as the blanket cocooned her.

“Be calm, child. You looked like you could use something warm in your belly.” An old, wizened woman settled down on the bench, on the opposite side of the mug. Human, with gray hair that was pulled up in a messy bun, with a few loose hairs falling down over her forehead. Warm, kind eyes met Gena’s as they sat there for a moment, simply regarding each other. The old woman smiled, and pushed the sweet smelling mug closer to the half-elf. Gena looked at it, then reached out and took it to study further. Chocolate. It was warm chocolate. Gena’s stomach made a grumble as she put the mug to her lips and greedily drank from it. It was divine and along with the blanket wrapped around her, Gena began to feel better as warmth reached the core of her being.

The old woman smiled yet again, something within the expression reminded Gena of her grandmother back on the mainland. The memory stung as much as the lashes. Sensing her turn in emotion, the other woman gently placed her hand upon Gena’s shoulder. “Hold to what is dear to you, child. It is a light within this dark, a reminder of what truly is.”

Gena was too tired, and the gentle words and touch of another being, the first since she had come to this forsaken place, was enough to break the iron grip she had kept on herself. The tears that had stung in her eyes since she arrived here finally fell. Everything hurt, and she missed the comfort of home. She wept. The emotions and turmoil finally spilling over and finding a release. The older woman hummed softly and pulled Gena closer. Cradled there, resting her face against the woman's lap, Gena let out all of her sorrow and fear. While the old woman gently hummed a slow lullaby.

Hours later, Jenika watched as the young half-elf left the safety of the caves. She had lost count on how many had come here before, and she dreaded how many would come after. Still, she would be here to serve gentle kindness, and remind them of the lives they had before. And the lives they could have after.
Plays as: Avalri DeLocke

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Re: Arelith "All Hallows Scrawl" Creative Writing Contest (Create an NPC!)

Post by WaldoT » Mon Oct 31, 2022 9:39 pm

Name: Jasti
Race: Kobold
Gender: Female
Description:
A rust colored kobold covered head to tail in various animal hides. Some kept in better condition than others, a patchwork sewing job affixes the hides to their body. Peeking out from a hood is a snout and two golden eyes appraising their surroundings. Their tail is partially visible, much of it tucked into hides covering their body. Three tips of claws stick out from each of their wrapped feet protected by a thin layer of hide.They carry ropes, picks, and under their fur poncho is a short sword and dagger. The leather wrapped hilt of the short sword features a stag etched into the center. The kobold is quick to the point never wasting more breath than is needed. Their words are shared quickly with a rasping chirp.
Location (server and area) Ice Roads (Underdark (Glacial Caverns) Stream)

Purpose: Four different ideas:
1. Henchmen that can be hired in Saltspar.
2. Henchmen that can be hired in the Underdark (Glacial Caverns) Stream)
3. Wilderness shopkeeper in the Melt that sells rope, basic potions, supplies and +2 fire / acid weapon essences. -
Ideal outfit, head model, etc: Browned robed kobold with a hood
Class: Ranger
4. Something similar to the Rangers at the Base Camp. An NPC that can take you to some place in the Underdark for a price.

Background story:
Hearing the crunching hooves against the snow Jasti stirred beneath the many layers of hides and fur covering her body. She grabbed a dagger at her side and slowly peeked from her makeshift bed across the landscape. A rider dressed in mail rode forward atop a black stallion. Her heart fluttered; this individual was no traveler; the horse appeared fresh, the rider's equipment nothing other than a saddle, his armor, and a longsword. Maybe they were lost? Her quiet hope was dashed when the horse came to a halt and the rider yelled,
"Kobold, come forth his lordship knows of your presence on his mountain pass there are matters to be discussed."
Considering her options she opted to yell back atop the tree she made her bed in.
"This one is just a simple pathfinder not meaning harm"
She clenched the dagger in her claws peering at the knight. The man atop the horse responded in kind,
"You have collected fees on the Lord's Roads for many winters now. Yet his Lordship has yet to see a single coin from your exploits on his lands. While I am sure you would have a difficult time paying what is owed. Our Lord is a fair man and will offer a simple task in exchange for overlooking your debt. With the understanding that he is to receive a silver for every person you take across the pass in the future. Now come out from whatever hole you are hiding in so you may hear your task."
A bundle of furs and hides dropped from the tree and made its way over towards the knight. Craning her head up the only thing marking this sentient bundle of furs as a kobold was the tip of her snout peaking from a hood. "What's the task?" She quietly rasped sizing up the knight on his stead. The knight stated,
"There are two dwarfs, a human, and an elf that came across this pass recently. They have betrayed their patron. Guide them along the lower pass and drop this in the fire when they take their first night's rest. The Lord's Men will take care of the rest."
Unhooking a small bag from his pouch the knight tossed it over at the Kobold. Landing with a thump again the ground the bundle of furs hunched over to quickly swipe the pouch stowing it. The knight turned and quickly galloped away, his horse kicking up snow adding a layer of white to the kobolds furs.

She needed to be quick while she would have liked to have found someone to ferry across the pass before helping the adventuring party back. It would appear she didn't quite have the time with handling her "Lord's" request. She scampered fast; it took two moons to cross the pass. Making camp in a tree near the fork in the pass the kobold waited for her query with keen eyes. She sharpened a stick whittling it down, attention placed down hill . One moon later was when she heard the first signs of life. Two dwarfs and an elf she spotted out in the distance. They were short a human, but that's sometimes the price of these excursions. Dropping from the tree the kobold approached and hailed the party.
The dwarf clad in a set of chain greeted her,
"Lo there you bundle of furs and scales. Here to scavenge what meager trifles these sorry sods of bandits had?"
The elf interjected,
"What Bjold is attempting to say is the bandit stronghold was a lightly fortified village. The bandits were little more than armed rabble. In any case, kobold guide us across the pass here is your payment."
With a swift motion the elf tossed an arming sword sheathed in a scabbard on the ground in front of the kobold. Taking the sword in claw the kobolds golden eyes scanned over the hilt. Her attention lingered on the stag etched into the hilt, eyes briefly looking across the other three before she thought it's better to not ask questions.

She led them across the lower pass; it was windy, winding and narrow. You could fit five kobolds comfortably side by side in most places. Finally after a few hours of rambling at each other the leather clad dwarf spoke to her.
"Kobold you said on our way here the lower pass is typically only used in the later months any reason we are using it now?"
She confidently retorted,
"Said typically, harsh winds above currently make lower pass more favorable"
While it was true it certainly didn't make it worth traveling the lower pass, but that's what the Lord wanted her to travel. It likely made an easier way to set up a choke point or an ambush. There were a few less than ideal paths that brought one from the lower to upper passes. The Lord would likely just surround them on the lower pass but that's none of her business she just had to light the signal. They were running a bit late to the first ideal checkpoint, a place near a climb she could easily make, bringing her to the upper pass while leaving the others to their fate.

They made camp not long after. She volunteered for a watch but as they so kindly put it they'd sooner trust a rat in a storeroom. While not uncommon to receive insults, the remarks hurt. They kindled a small desire in her to just slit their throats while they slept. She decided to make the signal on the elfs watch. With their hubris and confidence she could easily explain she was just a dumb kobold and they would think nothing more of it.
Halfway through the elfs watch once the rest were asleep she stirred from her bundle of furs, grabbing a pouch, taking a clawful of the substance out the kobold brought it close to her nostrils taking a short sniff of it. The elf looking over towards her inquired,
"What do you have there?
"Magic powder she was given for the last passage across the mountains. Says was valuable." She explained.
The elf held out his hand,
"Pass it over and I will tell you exactly what kind of magic powder free of charge."
She walked over towards the elf before carefully losing her grip and dropping the pouch into the flames. Erupting into the air the flames turned green for a brief moment before calming down. The two dwarfs shot up from their sleeping rolls, moving to their weapons looking over at the elf. The leather glad dwarf grumbled
"By Moradin's anvil what was that?"
The elf explained,
"Calm yourself dwarf our little guide accidentally dropped their last trips payment into the fire."
She chittered over to the elf,
"What was her magic powder?"
The elf responded,
"Commonly referred to as 'signal powder' either a children's toy or a tool to signal for help. Had I known your prices were that cheap kobold we would have just thrown you the scabbard to chew on."
The kobold huffed under their fur covered hood as she turned around exclaiming
"She needs to get smoke out of eyes she heads into the cave to spring real quick she back soon."
Water was near a small spring three hundred places away. They planned to refill supplies there in the morning before setting back out.

Had to be quick, she thought. No reason to come across the lord's men so she made her way to the connecting pass taking out a small pick she stuck it into the ice as she slowly propelled herself up the mountain. She made it up the short climb and started to run back to her camp. An assumption was made if she kept that pace all night she'd be able to make it there midday tomorrow. She almost wanted to watch the adventures get swarmed but she thought it was better to stay clear and confirm they were dead later. An hour later she found it strange there were no signs of anyone else ahead on the higher or lower pass. Surely they must have seen her signal and been en route. Suddenly, as she was scampering across the snow a small explosion rocked the upper mountain. A pit formed in her stomach as she realized why she hadn't seen any soldiers on the Cliff. With snow cascading down the mountain she broke into a desperate sprint. The small speck of brown furs was consumed by the rolling waves of snow that flowed down the mountain pass.

Jasti came to her senses later on when the sun was rising. She had little time to come to recover before she noticed a woodcutting ax placed against the side of her head. She attempted to shuffle and roll over only to feel a sharp shooting pain from her leg. Falling limp she let out a loud yelp before sinking back into the snow. Sneaking a glance at the imposing figure the kobold spotted the antlers of a stag on a torn tabard. She searched around her furs desperately attempting to find a weapon. Staring down at her, the human with the stag tabard finally spoke.
"Listen here kobold you are to tell me exactly what occurred and depending on what you say your head either remains attached or removed. Speak the truth on the matter, do not hold your tongue."
Feeling the ax rub against the furs covering her neck the kobold spoke through labored breaths
"She was threatened by the Lord of land told to signal for two dwarfs, an elf and a human, who were traveling along the pass. Do this work and she keeps her pathfinding work and only has to pay a small fee to Lord in future."
The human responded. "Do you recognize me kobold?"
Jasti's vision clouded, the sun was so bright her head pounding she was able to make out the stag. The Stag his party claimed he was killed while fighting the bandits. How was he here? They had his half-plate, his helm, and they gave her his sword. Before she had time to react the man interjected,
"Fear not kobold my companions you doomed turned on me in the village. Evil is given what it is due"
Removing the ax and placing it against the ground he continued,
"They were blinded by the promise of gold and riches. There was no gold and riches in this bandit stronghold; it was a logging village who had taken up arms and refused to surrender what they needed to survive the rest of the winter. If you have a food cache I will mend your wounds if you swear to depart from these lands to never return. The people of the village are starving, kobold. While I am sure that means nothing to you I am sure your survival does. "
Contemplating her options she acquiesced to the demands of swearing to leave the land and show her supply caches. As the man promised once she swore her oath he mended her leg. She was sore. She couldn't run but she could walk and for that she was thankful. The man thanked her for aiding what remained of the village after he emptied her supply caches. She could care less when she was done showing all the supplies. Luckily as she had been so cooperative the man didn't bother searching her and his blade was still hers. In the end Jasti set off determined to find a new land to lend her pathfinding services to.

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Eira
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Re: Arelith "All Hallows Scrawl" Creative Writing Contest (Create an NPC!)

Post by Eira » Tue Nov 01, 2022 5:06 am

Entries for the contest are now closed! Thank you for entering and winners will be chosen soon.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

Discord: eighra


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Eira
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Re: Arelith "All Hallows Scrawl" Creative Writing Contest (Create an NPC!)

Post by Eira » Fri Nov 04, 2022 7:27 pm

After much discussion, the winners are decided! Congratulations to:

Preserver's Talarindus, the Merchant

Edens_Fall's Neve Frostwind

Margrave's Lumi

Thank you to all who entered, and keep an eye out for these NPCs being added in coming months!

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

Discord: eighra


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Edens_Fall
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Re: Arelith "All Hallows Scrawl" Creative Writing Contest (Create an NPC!)

Post by Edens_Fall » Mon Jun 19, 2023 6:25 am

Hello Everyone!! I just remembered this while at work tonight and was curious if the winners NPCs had already been added or if there was an update on the progress?


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Eira
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Re: Arelith "All Hallows Scrawl" Creative Writing Contest (Create an NPC!)

Post by Eira » Mon Jun 19, 2023 6:55 am

They are on my to-do list, but work is delayed due to significant personal life setbacks.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

Discord: eighra


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Edens_Fall
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Re: Arelith "All Hallows Scrawl" Creative Writing Contest (Create an NPC!)

Post by Edens_Fall » Mon Jun 19, 2023 7:25 am

Eira wrote:
Mon Jun 19, 2023 6:55 am

They are on my to-do list, but work is delayed due to significant personal life setbacks.

Ah, no worries! Was just curious. RL comes first, so take care of yourself ok.


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