[Online] Party roleplayers gevraagd
-
Wijlen Fandath Ryne
- Supreme Grandmaster
- Berichten: 3081
- Lid geworden op: donderdag 14 oktober 2004, 18:23
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Storyteller
- Ridder
- Berichten: 178
- Lid geworden op: maandag 7 februari 2005, 18:55
Graag doe ik ook mee! (Thanks for the permission, Karma)
Ik zou graag het volgende spelen (sorry, alles in het Engels):
Aerathon
“If once there would come one to release us,
he shall bear the mark of the winds”
Trials of survival make a life filled with hardships into a constant peak performance. Lives become shorter as those who survive long enough to age, lose the edge they procured to make it beyond years in which many others of their generation died. Alone and ageing the need for living long lives disappears; only the sand seems endless.
From the lands of Cha’dan hails Aerathon (=winds of the gods) born amongst the nomad tribe of the Har’uk. Aerathon has survived to the age of adulthood and he has passed those rites of passage a youth (cub) must go through to become an adult (cliath). Trials of hardship, even more so then survival in Cha’dan, anyone weak is not supposed to live through them. And thus they are a tribute to the harsh but glorious ways of the Har’uk. Aerathon survived the trials involved in the rite of passage, but barely. His body was nearly not resistant enough to the hardships and battle he endured. Fortunately for him, his mind took over, where his body failed.
“The body is nothing
without the mind”
For ages the Aidren, wise ones amongst the Har’uk, have rewarded self-reflection and the deeper ways of thoughts and the mind. They have selected those younglings that show of these powers and taught them. All who have shown some dedication or talent for the thought-ways of the Aidren have gone into their trials armed with knowledge and the Mantra’s that lead to strength and bravery.
Aerathon was never seen by the Aidren as gifted or even interested in the thought-ways, the manifestation of his ability came quite natural to him. Alone in the burning hot desert lands around Har’uk, Aerathon realized suddenly that, as other ran across the sand, finding the safety of shade, that running was not something he would do, not like the others. Desperation was not survival. He stood still, perfectly motionless in the desert and watched the sand around him. His mind stretched out around him, feeling his surroundings, instead of just seeing it. He closed his eyes and saw the world through opened eyes, unlike he had ever seen it. All things seemed connected and a great peace came to him. Understanding that all things are connected to the mind and thoughts he saw his own mind become structured and he saw it as a slim ivory tower.
“The best way to cross a distance
is by not moving at all”
Speed was a simple benefit. The greatest benefit became from the calm that Aerathon felt and remained within him. He returned to Har’uk an adult. Even the Aidren noticed the change in the young man, but they feigned not knowing. They seemed to be in disagreement with Aerathon’s newfound gift. They even separated him from other young adults of Har’uk by not giving him the chance to become apprentice to any of the adult craftsmen, warriors or even of the Aidren themselves.
Aerathon did not sadden by the choice of his elders at all. He had discovered a new world, which was beyond theirs. He heard a calling one night, a calling from beyond the sand dunes. A woman’s voice was whispering to him with a strange dialect.
“Sail on silver wings
through this storm
What fortune love may bring
Back to my arms again
The love of a former golden age.
You are disabled by fears concerning which course to take.
For, now that wheels are turning,
You will find faith deserting you...
This night is filled with cries of
Dispossessed children in search of Paradise.
A sign of unresolve that,
Envisioned, drives the pinwheel on-and-on.
You are disabled by fears concerning which course to take.
When memory bears witness to
The innocence, consumed in dying rage!
The way lies through our love;
There can be no other means to the end,
Or keys to my heart...
You will never find me.
You will never find me!”
Without any doubt, Aerathon set his gaze upon the horizon, the star filled sky beckoned him, and he left for the wilderness of sand, leaving Har’uk.
The world beyond Har’uk caused Aerathon to become a more withdrawn man. Travelling without a true destination, but following the voice that returned to him on only with the crescent moon. He decided to follow the white beacon in the night. The desert was his home, and he found no great discomfort to travel through it. Nay, it strengthened his resolve to find what was beyond. The voice did not speak like a woman from his home. Her last sentence taunted him each day, spooking through his mantras and concentrations like a ghost haunting a lost lover. Yet he knew or remembered nothing of the things she spoke of.
Many days and nights passed, when Aerathon saw within the distance the sharp curved red mountains doom up, signing the end to the desert. That night he heard for the first time the voice louder, as if he was getting closer. He could swear to hear wings flap through the sky as well, as if a great flying beast was above him. He saw nothing of it, if it was ever there…
The next morning, as the sun cleared over the red mountains, he saw silvery wings, as the lights crossed and bent over the stone. Shaping in imaginary forms; not unlike his dreams of the god realms had been. Was the land of this song beyond these mountains?
Slowly beginning to understand and grasp the large world around him in a different way then before caused a humbleness and definite goal to enter upon Aerathon’s structured thoughts. There was a state of being he had not yet achieved and he was going to find out what it was. For the first time in his life, survival became second to achieving the goals of knowledge of the Psion and the furthering of his investigation into the very being of the mind and thoughts, as well as the mysterious voice and experiences accompanying the crescent moon.
Crossing the crimson mountain ranges might have proven impossible if not for a caravan of a trading house. The master of this house: Imren took Aerathon on their caravan in trade for some of the minerals that he still carried from his home region, Har’uk. He worked his way to the more civilized parts, beyond the mountains. In the social surroundings of the caravan, Aerathon is much seen as a loner, and this has not changed. He has stayed only to himself the entire journey. It will be quite surprising to see where the caravan will end up, but Aerathon has retreated for now in the recesses of his mind. How will he experience the lands of Parideaza?
Ik zou graag het volgende spelen (sorry, alles in het Engels):
Aerathon
“If once there would come one to release us,
he shall bear the mark of the winds”
Trials of survival make a life filled with hardships into a constant peak performance. Lives become shorter as those who survive long enough to age, lose the edge they procured to make it beyond years in which many others of their generation died. Alone and ageing the need for living long lives disappears; only the sand seems endless.
From the lands of Cha’dan hails Aerathon (=winds of the gods) born amongst the nomad tribe of the Har’uk. Aerathon has survived to the age of adulthood and he has passed those rites of passage a youth (cub) must go through to become an adult (cliath). Trials of hardship, even more so then survival in Cha’dan, anyone weak is not supposed to live through them. And thus they are a tribute to the harsh but glorious ways of the Har’uk. Aerathon survived the trials involved in the rite of passage, but barely. His body was nearly not resistant enough to the hardships and battle he endured. Fortunately for him, his mind took over, where his body failed.
“The body is nothing
without the mind”
For ages the Aidren, wise ones amongst the Har’uk, have rewarded self-reflection and the deeper ways of thoughts and the mind. They have selected those younglings that show of these powers and taught them. All who have shown some dedication or talent for the thought-ways of the Aidren have gone into their trials armed with knowledge and the Mantra’s that lead to strength and bravery.
Aerathon was never seen by the Aidren as gifted or even interested in the thought-ways, the manifestation of his ability came quite natural to him. Alone in the burning hot desert lands around Har’uk, Aerathon realized suddenly that, as other ran across the sand, finding the safety of shade, that running was not something he would do, not like the others. Desperation was not survival. He stood still, perfectly motionless in the desert and watched the sand around him. His mind stretched out around him, feeling his surroundings, instead of just seeing it. He closed his eyes and saw the world through opened eyes, unlike he had ever seen it. All things seemed connected and a great peace came to him. Understanding that all things are connected to the mind and thoughts he saw his own mind become structured and he saw it as a slim ivory tower.
“The best way to cross a distance
is by not moving at all”
Speed was a simple benefit. The greatest benefit became from the calm that Aerathon felt and remained within him. He returned to Har’uk an adult. Even the Aidren noticed the change in the young man, but they feigned not knowing. They seemed to be in disagreement with Aerathon’s newfound gift. They even separated him from other young adults of Har’uk by not giving him the chance to become apprentice to any of the adult craftsmen, warriors or even of the Aidren themselves.
Aerathon did not sadden by the choice of his elders at all. He had discovered a new world, which was beyond theirs. He heard a calling one night, a calling from beyond the sand dunes. A woman’s voice was whispering to him with a strange dialect.
“Sail on silver wings
through this storm
What fortune love may bring
Back to my arms again
The love of a former golden age.
You are disabled by fears concerning which course to take.
For, now that wheels are turning,
You will find faith deserting you...
This night is filled with cries of
Dispossessed children in search of Paradise.
A sign of unresolve that,
Envisioned, drives the pinwheel on-and-on.
You are disabled by fears concerning which course to take.
When memory bears witness to
The innocence, consumed in dying rage!
The way lies through our love;
There can be no other means to the end,
Or keys to my heart...
You will never find me.
You will never find me!”
Without any doubt, Aerathon set his gaze upon the horizon, the star filled sky beckoned him, and he left for the wilderness of sand, leaving Har’uk.
The world beyond Har’uk caused Aerathon to become a more withdrawn man. Travelling without a true destination, but following the voice that returned to him on only with the crescent moon. He decided to follow the white beacon in the night. The desert was his home, and he found no great discomfort to travel through it. Nay, it strengthened his resolve to find what was beyond. The voice did not speak like a woman from his home. Her last sentence taunted him each day, spooking through his mantras and concentrations like a ghost haunting a lost lover. Yet he knew or remembered nothing of the things she spoke of.
Many days and nights passed, when Aerathon saw within the distance the sharp curved red mountains doom up, signing the end to the desert. That night he heard for the first time the voice louder, as if he was getting closer. He could swear to hear wings flap through the sky as well, as if a great flying beast was above him. He saw nothing of it, if it was ever there…
The next morning, as the sun cleared over the red mountains, he saw silvery wings, as the lights crossed and bent over the stone. Shaping in imaginary forms; not unlike his dreams of the god realms had been. Was the land of this song beyond these mountains?
Slowly beginning to understand and grasp the large world around him in a different way then before caused a humbleness and definite goal to enter upon Aerathon’s structured thoughts. There was a state of being he had not yet achieved and he was going to find out what it was. For the first time in his life, survival became second to achieving the goals of knowledge of the Psion and the furthering of his investigation into the very being of the mind and thoughts, as well as the mysterious voice and experiences accompanying the crescent moon.
Crossing the crimson mountain ranges might have proven impossible if not for a caravan of a trading house. The master of this house: Imren took Aerathon on their caravan in trade for some of the minerals that he still carried from his home region, Har’uk. He worked his way to the more civilized parts, beyond the mountains. In the social surroundings of the caravan, Aerathon is much seen as a loner, and this has not changed. He has stayed only to himself the entire journey. It will be quite surprising to see where the caravan will end up, but Aerathon has retreated for now in the recesses of his mind. How will he experience the lands of Parideaza?
“If once there would come one to release us,
he shall bear the mark of the winds”
he shall bear the mark of the winds”
-
Storyteller
- Ridder
- Berichten: 178
- Lid geworden op: maandag 7 februari 2005, 18:55
En de sheet dingetjes (PS, Karma, ik heb alles ook in Word en Excel doc, dus stuur ik je die nog even toe, vanavond!)
STR 8 (-1)
DEX 16 (+3)
CON 12 (+1)
INT 14 (+2)
WIS 10 (0)
CHA 12 (+1)
AC 17
HP 15
+3 Attack
Fort 2
Ref 6
Will 5
Initiative: 1d20 + 3
Psionics:
PPP: 9
Psionic Powers: (ik heb ze nog niet allemaal uitgezocht, maar heb al wel:)
Burst
Far hand
Missive
Spider Climb
Feats:
Innertial Armor (+4 AC bonus) ; Inner Strength (+1 Psionic power Point)
Skills: Appraise 3; Autohypnosis 1; Balance 4; Climb 1; Concentration 5; Escape Artist 4; Intuit Direction 1; Knowledge Pscionics 6; Knowledge Desert 3; Psicraft 3; Stabilize self 2; Tumble 4; Use Rope .
STR 8 (-1)
DEX 16 (+3)
CON 12 (+1)
INT 14 (+2)
WIS 10 (0)
CHA 12 (+1)
AC 17
HP 15
+3 Attack
Fort 2
Ref 6
Will 5
Initiative: 1d20 + 3
Psionics:
PPP: 9
Psionic Powers: (ik heb ze nog niet allemaal uitgezocht, maar heb al wel:)
Burst
Far hand
Missive
Spider Climb
Feats:
Innertial Armor (+4 AC bonus) ; Inner Strength (+1 Psionic power Point)
Skills: Appraise 3; Autohypnosis 1; Balance 4; Climb 1; Concentration 5; Escape Artist 4; Intuit Direction 1; Knowledge Pscionics 6; Knowledge Desert 3; Psicraft 3; Stabilize self 2; Tumble 4; Use Rope .
“If once there would come one to release us,
he shall bear the mark of the winds”
he shall bear the mark of the winds”
Mooi mooi,
we zijn begonnen en daarom verwijs ik jullie allen naar hier: http://www.roleplayers.nl/phpBB2/viewforum.php?f=19
we zijn begonnen en daarom verwijs ik jullie allen naar hier: http://www.roleplayers.nl/phpBB2/viewforum.php?f=19