Posts from Abasdarhon's Castle

Oh, I thought my mom wouldn’t let my daughter join the quests.

Mom, whom I designated as a playable character, and the little daughter, whom I designated as a non-player character following her around?

Quest: play in the sandbox with other children. Mother didn't allow it. Quest failed.

I wanted to choose Nature magic, as the old character was supposed to be a Nature mage, but if I create an elf, Nature magic is no longer a must, as it's a new idea, but elemental magic is also not very appealing, it's just ordinary... a terrible map.

Take the Demonology skill and transform the fired arrows into demons that will bite into enemies upon impact.

I was browsing pictures of scantily clad male fairies for inspiration, and someone from my family walked by and sighed suspiciously.

So, I don't necessarily have to be a human? They just gave me a mage society for free.
And why are there no perks?

Yes, it's not necessary.
They are hidden under a spoiler...

Tell me what guided you when you distributed the percentages.

The worse it is, the more likely it is, it's obvious.

.

I was browsing pictures of semi-naked fairy-like males for the character, and someone from my family walked by and sighed suspiciously.

LOL.

Sid Vander

He was far from the first man of his kind to follow the path of the warrior. This proud tradition, rooted in the past, gave him a sense of belonging to something special. Long ago, as a small child, he did not understand this and suffered greatly from the harshness that permeated every aspect of his family's life. Even when his father was away on duty, discipline always reigned in their home, and he himself was severely punished for disobedience or failure to perform certain household chores.
He lived long enough to know his grandfather; he remembered him as a massive and impenetrable man, as if carved from a single piece of stone, who completely dominated the father by his silent presence alone. However, unlike his energetic and fussy father, in his grandfather—beyond a deeply rooted, ossified power—one could sense a slight sadness and warmth. This man, despite his coarse and unfriendly appearance, was truly glad to spend time with his loved ones, valuing every minute, and as a child, the grandson could not help but be won over by this sincerity.
Therefore, when his father one day, jaw clenched, announced that his grandfather had fallen in a brave death during another battle, Sid was devastated.
- This is some kind of mistake... The son of my mother's friend has his whole family together. They sit in the kitchen and drink tea with kozinaki, and then they go mushroom hunting. All their arms and legs are intact. They all work as plowmen and seamstresses. How can this be?.. They will continue to giggle and stuff their bellies, while we... dig a grave for grandfather? And do we even have anything to put in it?.. - he did not cry, but looked heavily at the floor, his clenched fists trembling. - And is this what awaits you? And me?.. It's unfair.
His father did something uncharacteristic of him—he knelt down to be at eye level with his son and placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.
- Kozinaki and tea with mushrooms come and go—those are all trifles, but only memories full of pride remain. He lived a worthy life, one that earned the respect of others and which he himself could be proud of. Proof of this is the fact that I am here and now swearing to honor his memory, to continue the work with even greater zeal, and never to shame his legacy. And I expect the same from you, - he patted his son on the head. - Rejoice if your blade finds its mark. Work harder if it misses. Fall if it reaches you. The path of the sword is simple; that is what makes it so attractive. By stepping upon it, you accept the rules of a game that the dishonorable or the weak-spirited would not dare.
The boy nodded gloomily.
This unpleasant event and the experiences associated with it eventually led to a revision of his childhood views, killed the weakness within him, motivated his corresponding development, and led him to enlist in the army of the republic.

Over the years, Sid fared well in this profession; he wore out many boots, participated in a great number of battles, acquired a long service record and several official commendations, buried his father and mother, punched a few new holes in an ever-tightening trouser belt, and even got a wife. Family life, however, did not work out very well—he was on duty for days on end, often traveled on business trips, grew increasingly tired, and spent long periods recovering from injuries. Over time, chronic ailments began to manifest, and on rainy or frosty days, old wounds ached so much that the soldier became very grumpy and caustic; moreover, he could sit for hours with a glass of something strong, staring meaninglessly into the fireplace. In such moments, he felt like an old man, although it seemed he had only recently passed thirty. For some reason, they hadn't managed to have children yet, and it was evident from his wife as well that this marriage was not at all what she had dreamed of.
It could not continue this way for long and end in something good. One rainy night, as a result of another reorganization in the unit, he returned home unexpectedly early. Seeing the vague outlines of several silhouettes in the window while still approaching, Sid—as he was, in a cloak soaked to the skin, spreading mud through the house with boots soiled up to the knees—burst into his own bedroom and caught his wife with another man: a youth with fuzz on his face. The wife screamed and began to stammer, but he grabbed her by the wrist and flung her aside.
- Call the guard, - he threw at her sideways, staring with an unkind gaze into the stranger's eyes.
- Listen, pops, just don't... - the little man's voice trembled when he saw the master's hand reach for the scabbard on his belt. - Hey, man! Man! Listen, stop! Husb..!
The officer drove the blade deep into the same small man's heart right through the blanket, pinning him to the bed. The body jerked a few times, fingers convulsively scratched at the blade, and the eyes went out. The wife screamed and tumbled out into the corridor, clutching some rags to her chest. Sid's memory forever captured how a scarlet flower spread across the moisture-swollen blanket. After standing for a while, he exhaled and sank heavily into a chair. Leaning back, massaging the bridge of his nose and rubbing his forehead, he sat there until the law enforcement arrived.

The commander gave him a dressing-down for all these troubles but supported him fully in spirit. "The idiot knew what he was getting into when he entered another man's house and bed, especially while on duty" - he concluded. As a result of the investigation, it was found that the deceased was nobody—just some drifting tumbleweed without a trade or kin, wandering from one bar, brothel, or gambling house to another. The commander intended to pull strings; the shamed wife was ready to testify that this brigand had entered their dwelling through threats and deception, forced her into vile acts by power, and threatened the unexpected savior in the person of the husband with a weapon, after which he was defeated in an honest defensive struggle, but Sid, to everyone's surprise and incomprehension, refused such help. In court, he told everything exactly as it happened from start to finish, including the moment of killing an unarmed citizen. The court simmered for a long time, listening to and comparing all testimonies, deliberating, and finally delivering a verdict. Given the special circumstances of the event, as well as the defendant's membership in the army of the republic, his impeccable service on its behalf, and vouchers from fellow soldiers, he managed to avoid the maximum penalty. Instead, he faced discharge from the army, fifteen years of hard labor, and temporary requisition of his house and property by the state—until the end of his term.
It goes without saying that his shaky marriage collapsed at that same moment—the wife packed her things and left the region the very next day. Sid did not blame her. Their late marriage had been flawed from the start, and for more than a year everything had been heading this way. The court's verdict first seemed too lenient to him, and he shook his head in disappointment, thinking about how irrelevant matters outweighed justice, but after some time, he realized he was mistaken. Spending years hacking coal in a cramped, gas-filled mine was a pleasure for special connoisseurs in itself, but replaying the events that led to this in memory every minute, hour, day, and year was not easy. Death, for Sid as a military man, was of course nothing new, but it always fit into a clearly defined scheme in which each participant metaphorically signed off. This time, he found himself on the same side of morality as the true murderers and scum whom he had spent his whole life before suppressing. A photographically accurate picture flashed in his mind over and over: how a reflection of a candle flickered along the blade damp from rain; how the eyes of his victim widened and the face distorted; hands remembered the sensation of piercing bare flesh with a piece of metal, "protected" only by a thin layer of fabric; ears remembered the dull, wet crunch. And he wasn't even angry enough to justify his action with that state of mind. He had long suspected his spouse—or rather, attributed the probability of such an event to her in his head—but also understood that under these conditions it was inevitable. When the master of the house entered that room, he felt neither boiling rage nor a consciousness-clouding bitterness, but rather understood that at this moment he simply had to act exactly this way, according to all the beliefs and feelings that had walked side by side with him throughout his life. It was a situation from which, given his upbringing and character, it was impossible to emerge as a winner or get away with little blood.

At the end of his term, Sid Vander was released into the world. He did not take back the house from the republic, which had successfully used it all these years by converting it for its own needs, and he had no items of sentimental or special value in it; therefore, he simply asked for a corresponding large monetary payment for it and left. Considerably aged, knowing nothing but mining—which would be utterly ruinous to touch given his state of health—he did not wander and did not think long about where to go. Attempts to reconcile with himself, find God, and continue living led the unfortunate man to the borderlands of southern Tsutar, and his considerably rusted but sharpened skills of war found application in one of the local orders, where he found a new refuge for the following years.

Origin:
Seneian Republic
Strong-willed

Characteristics:
Strength - 50
Agility - 30
Perception - 5
Endurance - 30
Intelligence - 5
Will - 50

Skills:

- proficient ownship
- accuracy

- like a glove
- flawless
- steadfastness
- executioner


Equipment:
Full armor, helmet, zweihander, short sword, money, long-lasting provisions, treatise of the Apocalypse.

- Candies and mushroom tea come and go – these are all minor things, but only the memories filled with pride remain.

— What the devil?! — Cassmetra surfaced, as she discovered an unconscious, half-naked female body, covered in scrapes and bruises, on the territory of her secluded dwelling in the forest.
Usually, even the most experienced rangers cannot enter this place without great difficulty, let alone half-dead strangers appearing from nowhere. Who was she, then?! An enemy spy? Or perhaps a victim of bandits?
Outraged by such a sudden, albeit half-dead, visitor, Cassmetra was in no hurry to dispose of the body. On the contrary, she decided to study the unexpected find, and then figure out what to do next: torture, kill, or simply throw it out to be devoured by monsters or bandits.
In order not to waste her own strength, the blue-eyed, dark-haired sorceress summoned a mental entity and gave the creature an order — to deliver the feeble collapsed girl, who, as it turned out, had a fluffy and, most likely, soft cat's tail, to the laboratory. There, Cassmetra decided to chain the girl up, in order to then examine her more closely. There was no need to risk her own well-being.
Since there was no talk of the young beauty waking up anytime soon, and the mistress of the house was not known for being patient, she had to start getting acquainted in the simplest and most effective way for a sorceress — reading her thoughts.
«How interesting...» — the woman thought, quickly delving into all the smallest details of her feeble find's life.
A difficult childhood, provided by a demonologist mother, who had been conducting the most perverse experiments since pregnancy — which was, in fact, where the tail came from — as well as her mother's manservant, who was definitely not the girl's father. And so that the little one would never forget this, the demonic stepfather regularly reminded her of it, using the most perverse tortures as proof, tortures that would never enter a human, let alone a parental, mind. At least, a healthy one.
An escape, which the tormented and unloved girl decided upon at seventeen. The reluctance of any school or even boarding school to take her in for education due to her mother's extremely dubious reputation, who had previously dumped everything on a home tutor, who also didn't care, because depraved entertainment was far more interesting.
Poverty. Hunger. Fear. Despair...
Slavery, which began after meeting bandits one dark and terrible night. And while they were relatively kind to her, especially compared to the demon who denied being family but furiously demanded she call him “daddy,” the master who bought the girl for pennies could compete in cruelty even with the stepfather. True, in reality, he was still somewhat inferior in this art. But everything could still lie ahead.
Countless days in a brothel. Beatings. Rape. Drugs. Torture. And an even greater desire to die...
Perhaps such a fate awaited the unfortunate girl, who still hadn't lost her attractiveness, but something went wrong. At one moment, not the most beautiful, but not the most terrible either, when the master decided to carry out another unthinkable perverse torture, calling it “training,” something broke.
No, not the girl's mind. The slaver's favorite organ, which had enlarged from excitement, was somehow entwined with the tail of his victim, who decided to deprive the enemy of his main weapon. Where did she find the strength for this? Unknown.
Screams. Yells. A guard who came running at the call.
The girl was supposed to be seized and severely punished for what she had done, but that did not happen. She chose to defend herself. And she was aided in this by her own tail, which furiously, though now not so powerfully, lashed at the approaching enemies, and by some entity that had previously appeared only in the fantasies of the now former slave.
Cold-blooded, cruel, merciless to all offenders — that's how the creator had seen this monster for many years. It was this entity that appeared at her first call, to fulfill all the dreams that arose in the mistress's head. And the thing coped with this task perfectly, destroying all those who loved to abuse subordinate women and men.
And then, again, flight. Flight into nowhere. And somehow, by a miracle, the girl ended up in Cassmetra's domain. Exhausted, feeble, and having lost consciousness.
— How much you have endured, — the sorceress noted with interest in her voice, having obtained all the necessary information. There was no more point in digging through the guest's tormented mind.
— If you were my victim, I might even be glad to turn your life into a living hell, — Cassmetra added, continuing to observe the unconscious girl. — But even I don't have enough imagination to surpass the “everyday events” of your life.
The sorceress had already thought of taking the girl's life, showing her a kind of act of mercy that the unfortunate one had long deserved.
But just as Cassmetra raised her hand towards the potential victim, a thought struck her, the emergence of which was very timely for the tailed beauty, who possessed enormous potential. Probably inherited from her negligent mother, unless, of course, the family of the blacksmith, whose seed helped the young collapsed girl come into the world, had no powerful mages who wished to remain anonymous. Which the sorceress strongly doubted.
— Perhaps I have a better idea...
— Where am I? — the girl, who had previously been sleeping on the couch located not far from the sorceress's work table, distracted Cassmetra, who was reading a huge tome.
— And what do you think? — the interlocutor snorted in response, reluctantly tearing her gaze away from the text and raising her eyes to the side, as if such situations were an everyday occurrence.
The dark-haired beauty, dressed in a black, puffy, fitted dress that covered everything down to the knees but did not hide the cat's tail, got up and came closer to the woman to figure out what she didn't understand: who she herself was, who this woman opposite was, and what this place was.
— I am Cassmetra, — the mistress of the house answered majestically, who, even in a sitting position, somehow looked down at the girl standing before her.
— I don't know what your real name is, but when you appeared here, you introduced yourself as Meilin, — the sorceress added, not entirely lying, since her guest was indeed called that. — At the time, you declared that you wanted to study under me.
— Study what?
— Magic, you silly girl! — Cassmetra flared up, as if she were reprimanding a negligent student who didn't understand basic truths.
The news she heard greatly shocked Meilin, whose mind still had absolutely nothing except her own name, voiced by the only woman in the room. However, soon came the realization that she knew what magic was, and that, it seemed, she even already knew some spells. Although she had no certainty about the latter.
The young guest, understanding nothing, decided to continue questioning the woman sitting at the table, in order to try to figure everything out, to find out where she was from, how long the sorceress had been teaching her, and most importantly, what had happened. The last point was almost the most pressing for the girl, because she wanted to know what reasons could have made her forget everything in the world.
Feeling as if she were being interrogated, Cassmetra, unaccustomed to such communication, flared up and declared that she had no intention of spending her entire day on empty chatter. Furthermore, the sorceress accused the student of being the one responsible for the trouble that had occurred, implying it was up to her to deal with the consequences.
— And what do I need to do? — the fragile and feeble guest clarified with undisguised panic, having become seriously frightened of her interlocutor.
— I have an idea... — Cassmetra began to explain her plan, imagining how fun it would be to send Meilin completely alone to the city to find something to occupy herself.

Origin:
Collapsed Humans: +30 to attractiveness; +2 skill points

Attributes:
Strength - 5
Agility - 15
Perception - 5
Endurance - 15
Intellect - 50
Willpower - 50
Charisma - 5 (bonus from cat tail)

Skills:

Structuralism
+7 skill points
+10 to willpower for each point of will
+5 to magic power for each point of intellect
+20 to mental resistance for each point of intellect
No more than 1 player
Absence of aging
Mental disorder
Character attacks deal damage to mental entities
Racial bonus is nullified, bonuses affecting attributes remain

Abilities:

✧ Mind Reading ✧ The sorcerer can read the target's thoughts
✧ Sleep ✧ The sorcerer puts the target into a deep sleep (magic power vs. willpower), in battle lasts for 3 turns (cooldown: 2 turns)
✧ Domination ✧ The sorcerer subdues a sentient being to their will; in battle, domination lasts for 5 turns (cooldown: 2 turns)
✧ Incorporeality ✧ The sorcerer can pass through obstacles; in battle, gains immunity to all types of damage for 3 turns (cooldown: 3 turns)
✧ Fortitude ✧ The sorcerer's willpower is increased by 3 times (x2)
✧ Resurrection ✧ The sorcerer revives an ally with full health (cooldown: 5 turns) (x2)
✧ Transference ✧ Upon death in battle or outside of battle, the sorcerer's soul transfers into the nearest sentient being (excluding characters of other players), retaining all their abilities and willpower and intellect parameters (x2)

Mentalism
Intellect not less than 30
+20 to mental resistance for each point of will
Mental entities cannot possess the character
Mental entities receive 3x damage from the character's attacks
The character senses the presence of mental entities nearby

Abilities:

✧ Mental Entity ✧ The character summons a mental entity that fights on their side; the strength and abilities of the entity depend on the character's magic power and the player's wishes

Inventory:
Money, travel rations, black dress, stockings, low-heeled shoes, cosmetics, jewelry (earrings, necklace, pendant).

We should write a quest: players lazily spend a week writing a few sentences.
We shouldn't write a quest: players submit a Word document with several pages.

:o

Are the stockings at least mesh? A friend is asking.

And I ask.

Added 2 minutes later
These are also good, if that's okay.

Map 1, map 2

Alisson has poor memories of his childhood. Only that there was a lot... of everything. A little Elven boy, regardless of how he came to the cultists of Jolai, was clearly a very desirable and successful acquisition for them. This same childhood, among other things, gave Alisson a quirk — he hates any form of physical intimacy with people, even banal touches. Ironic, given his skills in this very area... But let's speak in order.

The boy, although subjected to various humiliations, was on the other hand pitied by the cultists in their own way. And why not, you don't find such unique material every day! If one overdoes it and a beautiful Elf dies, or becomes disabled, or even just gets a nervous tic — well, the other cultists might actually kill you for that. But the then-head of the local cult cell tested his weakness for little Alisson the most. As soon as the boy complained about someone with sad eyes, the Jolai could tell without any guessing who would be sacrificed at the next gathering.
It goes without saying that the guy, embittered by his unenviable fate, decided to ease his suffering somewhere and began to brazenly manipulate the cultists. Perhaps not immediately, perhaps he had to overcome his sense of disgust and accept their philosophy for this, but in the end Alisson grew up and successfully overthrew the previous leader, moreover almost bloodlessly (he only sacrificed the leader himself and two of his loyal followers who decided to resist).

In general, Alisson's past contains no more interesting or decent details. It is only worth adding that recently he grew bored with all the entertainment the cult could offer him, especially considering his own preferences, which were not quite standard for Jolai. This led to a prolonged period of apathy and a search for new, unexplored sensations — as a Jolai truly cannot live without the latter. Strangely enough, cats, of which he acquired a considerable number, began to bring Alisson much joy. But any cat-like fur is also suitable. As a result, many Djuran skins have accumulated in the cult leader's secret lair; those are the only ones he enjoys touching with his hands. The skin of a huge maned lion is especially good.

A young member of the society of mages, she specialized in air magic, but did not have time to reach perfection in it before meeting her first Jolai cultist. Absolutely by chance — imagine, she accidentally walked onto a disadvantaged street of Aksot, looking around... Not that there was much to look at there, of course! That's when she managed to understand through analysis that one of the local residents possessed an unconventional set of skills.

Due to incredibly developed natural curiosity and a lack of brakes instilled in childhood, Vikayla became eager to join the party as well. In the society of mages, she announced that she had not progressed for too long and therefore wanted to suspend her membership. It was harder with the cultists — Alisson, who by that time was already in power, was not pleased that one of his subordinates had been so stupidly exposed (but she won't be exposed again, at any rate). However, it was not Vikayla's fault, and her intentions to join were sincere, so...

Now Viki is one of Alisson's most loyal people (and why not, such a handsome man!). An air mage, but weak; however, an elementalist, which compensates for everything. She wants to classify Jolai magic from a scientific point of view, and in principle, curiosity drives her in almost everything she does.

Korketus never liked doing any stupid farming — and he was forced to plow since childhood. Having learned a bit how to swing a weapon to protect himself, he set out on travels. The main goal of his life is to never work and generally do nothing.
He joined the Jolai shortly before Alisson seized power; in fact, he happened to participate in this coup on Alisson's side. And all because the old cult leader forced Korketus to do all sorts of stupid work, like unloading crates.


Charlists

"Alisson"

Race:
Elves
+40 to attractiveness; +10 attribute points (150); +4 skill points (12)

Cult of Jolai
+40 to charm
+20% to endurance
Immunity to diseases
Character feels almost no pain
Magic power increased by the number of Charm points

Skills:

✧ All ✧

Adventurer
+3 to all attributes
+5 to cunning for each unit of charm
Character is able to play dead
+1 to awareness for each unit of intelligence

Skills:

✧ Silver Tongue ✧ Character is able to pass any check using the cunning parameter, cunning is increased 2 times

Strength 8
Agility 20
Perception 30
Endurance 20
Intelligence 30
Will 40
Charm 60

Inventory: 5 cats, money, a large secret lair with cultists, torture instruments, a writing desk and Djuran skins

[spoiler="Vikayla Golban"]
Race:
Republic Humans
+3 SP

Cult of Jolai
+40 to charm
+20% to endurance
Immunity to diseases
Character feels almost no pain
Magic power increased by the number of Charm points

Society of Mages
Intelligence not lower than 30
+2 awareness for each unit of intelligence
Society ring: 30% discount on goods in Society shops
+1 to accuracy of targeted spells for each unit of perception

Skills:

✧ Analyst ✧ Character is able to determine the skills of a sentient being
✧ Quick Mind ✧ Character is able to use two spells per turn
✧ Elementalist ✧ -25% damage from all elements; magic school and spell of the elemental of the day for her
✧ Fusion ✧ A mage who has perfected the art of creating elementals is able to become half-elemental; character transforms into an elemental if necessary, receiving some properties of the elemental body and all spells of the magic school (x6)

Air Magic[spoiler="Skills (in elemental form):"]
✧ All ✧[/spoiler][spoiler="Skills (in human form)"]

Air Elemental: fully protects the owner from melee attacks and attacks using air magic if located on an adjacent cell (cooldown: 5 turns) (x2)

[/spoiler]
Strength 10
Agility 15
Perception 30
Endurance 25
Intelligence 30
Will 30
Charm 40

Inventory: various books on magic, as well as "about magic", a squeaky toy with valerian, a monocle, money, beautiful outfits[/spoiler]

"Korketus"

Race:
Minotaurs
strength increased 2 times, endurance 1.5; ability to attack an enemy with horns (damage = strength) as an additional attack; +10 to unappealingness

Cult of Jolai
+40 to charm
+20% to endurance
Immunity to diseases
Character feels almost no pain
Magic power increased by the number of Charm points

Berserker
+0.5 to accuracy for each unit of strength
Undetected attacks during battle deal normal damage

Skills:

✧ Endurance ✧ Amount of health increased 2 times
when wearing heavy and medium armor it is impossible to use the bonuses and skills of this skill*

Two-handed Weapon

"Skills:"

Skillful Wielding: +2 to damage for each unit of strength
Accuracy: +0.4 to accuracy for each unit of strength

Strength 50 (x2)
Agility 20
Perception 10
Endurance 40 (x1.5)
Intelligence 10
Will 10
Charm 30

Inventory: a huge zweihander, for a minotaur, light armor (also plus size), money

This led to a prolonged period of apathy and a search for new, unexplored sensations – as without them, the zealot truly cannot live. Strangely enough, Allison began to find a lot of joy in cats, of which he acquired quite a few. But any cat-like fur will also do. As a result, the head of the cult has amassed a large collection of Djuran hides in his secret lair, which he enjoys touching with his hands. The hide of a huge, shaggy lion is especially good.

In Nera's place, I would stay far away from this guy.