12-13-2003, 02:26 AM
Hmm, this sounds like a fun playable variant: Unlike others it is rather simple:
Here are some suggestions:
Charsi's Imbue, Larzuk's Sockets and Anya's name tag may and should also be used. Sure it is not really you who do it, but it fits so well into the whole "custom made" ideal.
In the whole the "blacksmiths" (Charsi/Mara/Hratli/Halbu/Larzuk) of the different acts will be sort of "mentors" to this character that will inspire him/her by their example.
Skills that fits the theme:
Amazon: Magic Arrow.
Assassin: All trap skills.
Barbarian: Find Potion, Find Item and Grim Ward.
Druid: I don't know.
Necromancer: Iron Golem (this is a good way to make use of all those "useless" elites).
Paladin: I really don't know either.
Sorceress: Enchant.
Suggestions to storyline/character concept:
Your character has always been a bit of an odd sort. While your peers were longing for heroic deeds/training for combat/whatever you were more interested in the tinkering of the workshops and the clamor of the smithies. You loved taking things apart and putting them back together again and you took pride in your ability mend fix and create all sorts of objects, from the mundane to the esoteric.
You family, however, could not see the glory of a craftman's life. They were of the old school and would like to see you become a great warrior/archmage/high priest and an esteemed statesman. Mending and fabricating stuff was tasks meant for those of lesser breed. Nonetheless you were always sneaking away spending time with various craftsmen(and/or women) of whom you learned many different skills.
One day your family tired of your antics putting your family reputation in danger. They decided that the army would be able to rid you of your confused notions. You were quickly enrolled (without much say in the matter) in the Volunteer International Relief Force headed for the Rogue monastery that apparantly should be in some sort of trouble.
Initially you hated the whole idea, but perhaps this would be the best chance to prove yourself. Afterall the VIRF ought to need someone to maintain the weaponry of the fighting forces as well as construct new materiel and fortifications. Your wide range ad-hoc skills made you excellent at working in the field.
But this was going to be much different than you have planned...
When the day arrived you packed some select belongings: A toolbelt with various tools, a leather armor you had sewn yourself from a cheap cowhide and short sword you had forged youself too.
But as your entered the enlistment office you were promptly stripped of all your baggage. "You were not going to take up excess storage space on the ship/caravan with your inane junk," was the reason given. Instead you were supplied with the standard issue rookie buckler and a training axe/sword/club/javelin/punch dagger (alternately a training wand/staff). Something was telling you that neither you, nor the rogues, was taken very seriously.
And rightfully so. After a brief cursory training session (where you didn't manage learn anything worthwhile about combat) you were all loaded on a ship/caravan and sent away. The whole mindset seemed to be something along the way of: "Those whiny rogues are probably just experiencing a quill rat infestation or a common zombie outbreak. Well, let's send them some rookies. It is cheaper than having to mind them ourselves and it's a good opportunity to get some combat experience".
The situation was of course totally different when you finally got there. Sure zombies and quill rats were running amok all over the countryside, but so were much nastier creatures as well as roving warbands of what appeared to be traitorous rogues. All these creatures seemed to be acting in concert and had the completely unprepared VIRF troops holed up inside a tiny barricade along with a small contingent of rogue archers.
The situation was completely FUBAR. You were left under the command of the rogue captain Kashya who seemed to be less than pleased with the gaggle of rookies taking up space in their entrenchment. Basically you were left much to your own devices in a hostile land with only a few rugs and a measly bit of daily bread for respite. To make matters worse you even managed to break your standard issue equipment trying to improve upon them while lacking the proper tools.
There was one light in all this misery. The rogue camp had a blacksmith of barbarian origin named Charsi. The angels might know how she came to chose a holy life. It seemed quite contrary to her character. She was the ideal craftsman. A weaponsmith by trade the circumstances had forced her to expand her skills in many directions. Besides maintaining all metal tools and armament she was also constantly at work restringing bows, fletching arrows, repairing tents and even supervising the maintenance of the barricades. She was the ideal craftsman. Almost self-taught in all kinds of skills and with an open and intuitive mind. Quite far removed from the inhibited and militaristic Kashya and the detached and ominous Akara that was leading the operations.
Whenever you were not sent out on the small quill rat forays (the quill rats were used as food and their quills made good makeshift arrowheads) you would spend time aiding Charsi in her forge. She could clearly see that there was more in you than just a measly forgehand, but sadly she did not have the spare tools to make you work on your own neither the time to properly train you though you could have been a great asset.
Then something miraculous happened.
It was not uncommon that travelling merchants chased by the various monsters would briefly stop in for a quick respite at the camp. In fact two merchants heading for Lut Gholein had become permanent fixtures of the camp. Actually the camp had grown into something of a trade center for the ravaged countryside. Especially because of the weapons that Charsi sold from her makeshift smithy.
One week where an especially nasty zombie assault were more or less blocking all traffic a distinguished looking man with somewhat torn robe clutching what seemed to be a mage's staff entered the camp. He headed straight for Charsi's smithy completely ignoring everyone else. He then had a conversation that quickly turned into a heated argument with Charsi sounding quite angry. He then dissapeared in a flash of lightning.
From what you heard he was inquiring about a certain "malus" that Charsi was apparantly both unwilling and unable to supply. After the incident died down you asked Charsi what the man wanted. "Some sort of stupid treasure hunter believing this place is just here for looting! He doesn't know that people actually made all those things and they did NOT make them just so he could take them!"
Then something caught your eyes. The mysterious man had dropped some kind of box. It was made of fine expensive wood and clad with bronze strips in beautiful patterns. It was quite intricate with a lock mechanism that opened by the press of a single button, but the inside held even greater wonders. This was nothing else than a genuine toolbox, and a magical one at that! The inside (that appeared far more spacious than the outside) held all kinds of tools. Some mundane, some exotic and some completely unidentifiable. There was also several (sadly quite empty) gem pouches, glass beakers and scrolls with weird sequences of runes and formulae.....
Here are some suggestions:
Charsi's Imbue, Larzuk's Sockets and Anya's name tag may and should also be used. Sure it is not really you who do it, but it fits so well into the whole "custom made" ideal.
In the whole the "blacksmiths" (Charsi/Mara/Hratli/Halbu/Larzuk) of the different acts will be sort of "mentors" to this character that will inspire him/her by their example.
Skills that fits the theme:
Amazon: Magic Arrow.
Assassin: All trap skills.
Barbarian: Find Potion, Find Item and Grim Ward.
Druid: I don't know.
Necromancer: Iron Golem (this is a good way to make use of all those "useless" elites).
Paladin: I really don't know either.
Sorceress: Enchant.
Suggestions to storyline/character concept:
Your character has always been a bit of an odd sort. While your peers were longing for heroic deeds/training for combat/whatever you were more interested in the tinkering of the workshops and the clamor of the smithies. You loved taking things apart and putting them back together again and you took pride in your ability mend fix and create all sorts of objects, from the mundane to the esoteric.
You family, however, could not see the glory of a craftman's life. They were of the old school and would like to see you become a great warrior/archmage/high priest and an esteemed statesman. Mending and fabricating stuff was tasks meant for those of lesser breed. Nonetheless you were always sneaking away spending time with various craftsmen(and/or women) of whom you learned many different skills.
One day your family tired of your antics putting your family reputation in danger. They decided that the army would be able to rid you of your confused notions. You were quickly enrolled (without much say in the matter) in the Volunteer International Relief Force headed for the Rogue monastery that apparantly should be in some sort of trouble.
Initially you hated the whole idea, but perhaps this would be the best chance to prove yourself. Afterall the VIRF ought to need someone to maintain the weaponry of the fighting forces as well as construct new materiel and fortifications. Your wide range ad-hoc skills made you excellent at working in the field.
But this was going to be much different than you have planned...
When the day arrived you packed some select belongings: A toolbelt with various tools, a leather armor you had sewn yourself from a cheap cowhide and short sword you had forged youself too.
But as your entered the enlistment office you were promptly stripped of all your baggage. "You were not going to take up excess storage space on the ship/caravan with your inane junk," was the reason given. Instead you were supplied with the standard issue rookie buckler and a training axe/sword/club/javelin/punch dagger (alternately a training wand/staff). Something was telling you that neither you, nor the rogues, was taken very seriously.
And rightfully so. After a brief cursory training session (where you didn't manage learn anything worthwhile about combat) you were all loaded on a ship/caravan and sent away. The whole mindset seemed to be something along the way of: "Those whiny rogues are probably just experiencing a quill rat infestation or a common zombie outbreak. Well, let's send them some rookies. It is cheaper than having to mind them ourselves and it's a good opportunity to get some combat experience".
The situation was of course totally different when you finally got there. Sure zombies and quill rats were running amok all over the countryside, but so were much nastier creatures as well as roving warbands of what appeared to be traitorous rogues. All these creatures seemed to be acting in concert and had the completely unprepared VIRF troops holed up inside a tiny barricade along with a small contingent of rogue archers.
The situation was completely FUBAR. You were left under the command of the rogue captain Kashya who seemed to be less than pleased with the gaggle of rookies taking up space in their entrenchment. Basically you were left much to your own devices in a hostile land with only a few rugs and a measly bit of daily bread for respite. To make matters worse you even managed to break your standard issue equipment trying to improve upon them while lacking the proper tools.
There was one light in all this misery. The rogue camp had a blacksmith of barbarian origin named Charsi. The angels might know how she came to chose a holy life. It seemed quite contrary to her character. She was the ideal craftsman. A weaponsmith by trade the circumstances had forced her to expand her skills in many directions. Besides maintaining all metal tools and armament she was also constantly at work restringing bows, fletching arrows, repairing tents and even supervising the maintenance of the barricades. She was the ideal craftsman. Almost self-taught in all kinds of skills and with an open and intuitive mind. Quite far removed from the inhibited and militaristic Kashya and the detached and ominous Akara that was leading the operations.
Whenever you were not sent out on the small quill rat forays (the quill rats were used as food and their quills made good makeshift arrowheads) you would spend time aiding Charsi in her forge. She could clearly see that there was more in you than just a measly forgehand, but sadly she did not have the spare tools to make you work on your own neither the time to properly train you though you could have been a great asset.
Then something miraculous happened.
It was not uncommon that travelling merchants chased by the various monsters would briefly stop in for a quick respite at the camp. In fact two merchants heading for Lut Gholein had become permanent fixtures of the camp. Actually the camp had grown into something of a trade center for the ravaged countryside. Especially because of the weapons that Charsi sold from her makeshift smithy.
One week where an especially nasty zombie assault were more or less blocking all traffic a distinguished looking man with somewhat torn robe clutching what seemed to be a mage's staff entered the camp. He headed straight for Charsi's smithy completely ignoring everyone else. He then had a conversation that quickly turned into a heated argument with Charsi sounding quite angry. He then dissapeared in a flash of lightning.
From what you heard he was inquiring about a certain "malus" that Charsi was apparantly both unwilling and unable to supply. After the incident died down you asked Charsi what the man wanted. "Some sort of stupid treasure hunter believing this place is just here for looting! He doesn't know that people actually made all those things and they did NOT make them just so he could take them!"
Then something caught your eyes. The mysterious man had dropped some kind of box. It was made of fine expensive wood and clad with bronze strips in beautiful patterns. It was quite intricate with a lock mechanism that opened by the press of a single button, but the inside held even greater wonders. This was nothing else than a genuine toolbox, and a magical one at that! The inside (that appeared far more spacious than the outside) held all kinds of tools. Some mundane, some exotic and some completely unidentifiable. There was also several (sadly quite empty) gem pouches, glass beakers and scrolls with weird sequences of runes and formulae.....