File: New Project(1).png (1.04 MB, 1080x1350)

1.04 MB PNG

How are we doing this?

Votes are tallied every hour on the dot.

You have three basic Approaches that function as a base for your character's strengths and weaknesses when facing problems, represented after the three Noxian principles.

MIGHT — Strength, vigor, health, constitution, resistance, resilience, brutality, violence, combat.
GUILE — Dexterity, agility, precision, charisma, stealth, persuasion, illusion, deception.
VISION — Will, perception, magic, occult, intellect, knowledge, wisdom, strategy.

To perform a roll you just have to roll 2d6, plus whatever points you have in the most appropriate Approach for what you're trying to do.

2-5 - Failure — Suffer all of the appropriate consequences.
6-9 - Complication — The action is partially successful. Something goes wrong in the process.
10+ Success! — The action succeeds without problem. The higher the better!

This post will be a one-shot quest; we'll run the full story and then be done with it for now!

They'd warned you that the weather in the Freljord was the coldest in all of Valoran but you hadn't expected it to be this bad. Snow falls all around you as you try fruitlessly to peer into the horizon from the deck of the warship that's bringing you and a hundred other bastards plus a handful of commanding officers into the frozen hell that is the Freljord. You can't see anything, though; all you get is a white screen of fog and snow in every direction, were it not for the lapping of the waves against the black hull of the ship and the gentle rocking they bring you would think you're not even moving at all!

It's... scary, truth be told. You know this is your one chance, the only opportunity you've got and you don't want to screw it up, and still the fear that grips your heart doesn't let go. You look away from the sea of white to notice General Darron is there, walking from conscript to conscript, all in similar situations to you. Forced into this mission without even knowing what you're doing. All young. All lacking equipment beyond the bare minimum Trifarian armor and blades. Darron, a tall man with dark skin and an even darker suit of heavy armor, is approaching you and you quickly straighten your back, hand to your chest in the proper salute though he's already waving his hands dismissively as he gets closer.

"Name and origin?" He inquires, pulling a small wooden board with papers on it, it's clear he's doing a census of sorts for all the conscripts.

Who are you?
> Name
> Gender
> Nation of Origin

Also choose a Background, check the pic to see the options.