Badventurers

[Deadkool]

You have been cordially invited to the Adventurer Gala for Heroes of the Sword, Sorcery, and other miscellaneous items. Please arrive at 7 PM sharp in formal attire.

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Sincerely Yours,


Balthazar, The Grand Wizard
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-You're an adventurer, well, you try to be. For some reason slaying monsters, rescuing maidens, and rolling for initiative just doesn't come easy to you. Are you an archer lacking depth-perception? A tone-deaf bard? A pacifistic barbarian? No matter, there are other, more confident adventurers that can get the job done. Unless when they're aren't. You were late to the Adventurer Gala and guess what? The whole place was in flames, nobody got out. Now, only you can stop the evil wizard Balthazar, that is, if you can manage to not die trying.

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[LeviathanL]

Name: Xedris 'All Bones' Morteo


Age: Centuries, he doesn't even remember himself.


Class: Cleric


Bio: In life, Xedris was a powerful sorcerer who terrorized the lands. His mad quest for power eventually led him to start a ritual to transform himself into a lich. A lich is a powerful mage who achieved undead by storing his soul in a phylactery. Unfortunately for him, adventurers attacked him just as he was about to complete the ritual. As a result, only part of his soul was succesfully stored in the phylactery, costing Xedris most of his power. To top it of, the adventurers stole the phylactery and sealed him inside a mausoleum, where he remained trapped for centuries. Over the years, the undead with half a soul lost most of his memories, magical power and sanity. His only companion being the statue of an angel watching over the graves. When he finally escaped, he remembered nothing save for his name and a devotion to the angel that protects the dead in their final resting place.


He is (obviously) old-fashioned, likes small animals and is a bit of a pervert.


Special Abilities: Being a lich, he has a natural talent for necromancy. Combined with cleric revival spells he can bring almost anyone back to life.


Weakness: His class is directly opposed to his race. Heal spells damage him, turn undead spells result in himself fleeing in terror and the angel he worships wants all undead exterminated. Not to mention every time he revives a teammate small pieces tend to fall of, but you weren't using that toe anyway, so stop whining.


Equipment: A robe and mask that cover him completely, hiding his undead identity from most people. He also carries a ring from his previous life, but he can't remember where he got it or if it does anything.


Appearance: A human skeleton, roughly 1.80 m tall, he usually wears a hood and a golden mask in public.

 

[StaleWhiteBread]

Name: Sergei Stroganov


Age: 35


Class: Mage


Bio: Born to the Stroganov clan, his family expected him to follow in his father's footsteps and become a strongman in the circus. But, even as his mighty body grew to enormous proportions, even as he had became HUGE, he always felt that his one true calling was in the mystic arts.


As soon as he could, he ran away from home, with nothing but the clothes on his massive, rippling back, and headed to the nearest mage's school. He was, of course, admitted immediately, and passed all of his classes, because who is going to fail someone whose arm is bigger than you are? His unique status among the mages of the Wallach Mages' School allowed him to learn some unusual spells, but nothing too common. As a result, he's learned to channel his spells through his massive physique, and must flex and pose in place of chanting.


Though he ran away at a young age, the lessons of kindness and protection of the weak stuck with him, and he will refuse physical violence, seeing it as a perversion of the physical art that is the body.


Equipment: 1 (incredibly torn) mage's robe, mage's tome


Race: Human


Special Abilities: Flex casting, the ability (though absolute refusal in anything but the most dire circumstances) to cast FIST.


Weakness: Near-absolute pacifism, poor knowledge of the arcane, untrained in anyweapon, somewhat too-trusting


Appearance: 7 feet tall, 350 pounds of puremuscle. Bald, with a massive, bushy beard and mustache. Unusual markings on skin thatallow for magic channeling through muscles

 

[eowarion]

Name: Jerron Sirc


Age: 31


Class: Mage/Wizard (whatever you prefer to term it)


Equipment: A wine skin, a large walking stick that doubles as a club, mage robes that smell of booze.


Special Abilities: A superb spellcaster...


Weakness: ...when drunk. When sober, he barely remembers even the most mundane of cantrips, and hungover, he can't use his magic.


Appearance: A human male, roughly 6' tall, of average build and caucasian. He has brown eyes that are often seen bloodshot, with dark bags under them. His brown hair is unkempt, and his facial hair somehow manages to remain looking as though only a week's worth of growth. When drunk, he relies heavily on his walking stick, but when sober, that stick is strapped to his back.


Bio: Having shown an aptitude for magic, and realizing the potential it held in furthering his youthful goals, Jerron joined a mage's guild early in life in an attempt to impress others, make himself feel less weak, and to do something incredible with his life. And for a few years, that seemed to be his path. In his mid-teens, he found himself in a situation involving drinking, several women of loose morals, and many of his "brethren" shouting something that may or may not have been "CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!"


From there, he spent much of his time drunk from celebrations, festivities, and any other reason he had. Much of his study was spent under the influence, and as such, he can easily recall it while in that same frame of mind, but once sober, he barely remembers the phrases to the most simple of cantrips. His hangovers oft leave him entirely unable to use his magic, and as such, he tries to spend much of his time drunk, or just drunk enough to keep those at bay.