A) Eastern Standard Time. Generally can post as much as needed from about Noon EST until maybe as late as 3 AM EST. Only exceptions are my Monday, Wedsnesday and Friday night online games, which go from 7 PM until after midnight. I will still be able to post during them, just not as frequently.
College classes start back up in early January, so I won't be able to post at all on Wednesdays until about 11 PM, and between about 3 and 8 on Thursdays. Those are the only days I'm taking classes, though.
With a few pints of ale in the both of them, there is likely a 50/50 chance of them either fighting or getting along splendidly, and it really just depends on the mood.
Standing behind the inn's bar is a very fetching Tian woman, though Doran's eyes don't stay on her for long. In his experience, not knowing who is in a room with you could be very dangerous, so he carefully observes each of the inn's patrons while attempting to dry his hair and keep it out of his eyes. Flicking his gloved hands at the floor to get rid of the excess water. The thoroughly-soaked Chelaxian meanders over to the bar, removing his gloves and storing them in his pockets. "Evenin' luv."
The Tian women gives him a smile as she cleans a small white ceramic glass with a towel. "What can I get you?", she asks, setting down the cup.
"Ale 'n' a room. Ain't goin' no'ere in 'at storm." The woman nods, pulling a mug from beneath the counter. She takes it over to one of the kegs behind her and fills it, before sashaying back to the counter. Placing the mug in front of him, Doran carefully places a gold piece on the counter, before lifting the mug and taking a long draught.
The tanned man sets the mug back on the counter and sinks into one of the barstools, sighing. "'anks luv, I needed 'at." Taking another look around, Doran notices a board with various parchments nailed to it. Curious, he stands and walks over to it, realizing it is a Help Wanted board. He nods to himself. I'll need t' come look a' 'is in th' mornin'. He walks back to the bar and sits down again.
The barkeep gives Doran a once-over, and leans forward on the bar's surface. "I am Ameiko Kaijitsu, the owner and operator of this establishment. You seem to be new in town. I imagine this means you are not aware of my policy. If you can tell me of an exciting adventure, I will discount your stay." Her sly smile doesn't seem to phase him, though. He sits back on the barstool and lifts the mug, meeting her eyes calmly.
"Which one y' want t' hear?", he questions with a calm, almost dispassionate, look on his face.
I want to see strong characters.
While I accept it is your prerogative to impose pretty much any rules you like (and I really hope you don't take this as me being argumentative), I fail to see how restricting one's racial choices upon character creation results in 'stronger characters.' The defining stuff of my character comes from my class choices and the role I envision my character playing, not their race. That's why the only reason to pick the Vanaras is mechanical and not 'deep and meaningful' -- because I don't build my characters based upon their race.
I know that Amoonrann would be the same in terms of character if she were an Elf or a Vanaras (unwavering, confident, somewhat withdrawn, socially cold, very direct, and so on). Only difference is, from where I'm sitting, you've simply gone and given my relatively experimental concept a further handicap. Which, again, you're entitled to do; but in that same vein, I'm entitled to think that your decision is an unjust handicap.
On an unrelated matter:
Aran, I have updated Amoonrann's alias with some character fluff that may help you get a sense of how your character would respond to Amoonrann.
And in answer to the questions:
A) EST. I can generally post several times a day. I tend to work evenings (but it is hard to say as I just started this job a week ago) so my posting may slow down depending on the kind of responses we're expected to give. If just a paragraph here or there is sufficient, I can probably fire off such replies without issue at work. If, however, the expectations are for something more than that (say page long narrations where go into the deep spiritual themes of why our character choose to sit on the chair instead of the floor) then I'm likely not going to be able to post such things until I get home from work (probably 'round 11pm or midnight).
B)
C)
"I'm sorry to keep you waiting," came a voice behind Amoonrann a moment later. Turning, Amoonrann watched a woman with reddish brown hair make her way over to a wooden desk littered with papers with varying kinds of script on them. "My name is Kendra Deverin, I'm the mayor of --"
"You are the leader of this...town? Amoonrann interrupted, her ancient eyes sizing the mayor up.
Kendra cocked an eyebrow at being interrupted. "Well, mostly...the other landowners and I sha--"
"Your people are invading our lands. You will stop them," Amoonrann interrupted again. She had no interest in hearing about the local bureaucracy. She wanted to be out of here and back amongst her own kin.
Kendra sucked her teeth notably at being interrupted a second time, and she sat down in her chair eyeing Amoonrann up and down. "Your lands? As I understand it, miss...?"
"I am called Amoonrann."
"Amoonrann," the mayor said, repeating the name to make sure she pronounced it right. "We are a small town, we hardly have the resources necessary to invade anyone."
"You lie. We catch your hunters in our lands almost daily now," Amoonrann quickly retorted, crossing her arms across her chest.
"Catch our hunters..?" the mayor thought before finally she clicked in to who she was talking to. "Oh sod. You're one of the bloody treefolk," said Kendra with obvious disdain as she leaned back in her chair and rolled her eyes.
"I am no treefolk. I am an Acolyte of the Gre--"
"Shut it," the mayor interrupted, leaning forward in her chair suddenly and slamming her fist on the table. "I don't care who you are, or what you and your sodding tree-worshipping friends believe. But you've been harassing my people for months now and I want it to stop."
Now it was Amoonrann's turn to raise her eyebrow at being interrupted. She listened to the woman's demand with the same disdain that woman seemed to treat the 'treefolk.' After a moment's pause, Amoonrann leaned in on the desk, and she brought her eyes down to the mayor's level, burning with restrained rage. "Your people violated our lands. Be thankful we only harassed them," Amoonrann hissed into the mayor's face.
The two glared at each other intensely for a few moments before the mayor blinked and leaned back in her chair arrogantly. "Be careful, girl, that almost sounded like a threat," she said, clasping her hands together in her lap.
"That was no threat, it is a statement of fact," Amoonrann retorted, not moving from her position on the desk. "This is the threat: either you keep your people out of our woods, or those people we catch invading our lands won't be coming back at all."
"And if I send in the militia or call upon Magnimar for aid?" Kendra asked, confidently.
Amoonrann pushed off the table and made to leave the mayor's office stopping at the door and looking back at the mayor to stress the point. "Then all of you will find you are at war with nature herself; a war no army can hope to win," Amoonrann said coldly, opening the door to leave. "Stay out of the Churlwood mayor,"" Amoonrann added, before she departed the mayor's office. She would stay in town the night, but then she would depart back for her grove on the morning.
The ultimatum had been made; it was now just a question of whether the mayor preferred living peacefully with the druids, or if she'd rather go to war. Amoonrann was convinced it would be the latter; the 'civilized' always preferred the latter. But nevertheless, her grove it was important to establish the Druids are not the aggressors here. They would defend themselves, no doubt, but only the way any threatened creature defends itself.
"Oh! I'm sorry. Just a moment, please!" Doubly flustered, both at having been so entranced by the woman's odd allure & by her own continuing malaise, Marysin went to the kitchen cupboard & retrieved a wooden tumbler, then drew water from the drinking basin. Returning to the door she found the diminutive swordswoman standing patiently outside. "Here is some water," Marysin offered as she continued, "to be honest, Eli & I hadn't really considered the idea of letting out a room, we've only just recently moved here ourselves..." She trailed off, suddenly aware she might seem rude or inconsistent.
The woman's tone & manner make it plain that she has no intention of pressing the matter, at the same time her openness makes it clear that she is willing to listen if Marysin wishes to share.
Her accent matched her appearance, exotic but at the same time morbidly enticing.
"You, aren't from around obviously. Was journey very far?" Marysin didn't feel comfortable discussing her personal pains with this woman, not even as open as she seemed. Gathering her wits about her, she turned the conversation to 'hopefully' safer topics. Besides, the woman's very nature seemed to invite a kind of avaricious curiosity. Marysin hadn't felt this energized in a very long time, she found herself wanting the conversation to last.
"Oh! That a noticeable ways. You traveled all this way for the Festival?" 'I wonder if it is anywhere near Daggermark? Eli has mentioned some of the most skilled apothecaries in Avistan are found there. Though I suspect they focus more on the less beneficial 'herbs' with a name like that...'
Ysmerelda admits grudgingly, Ysmerelda snaps her head violently, as if physically forcing an unwanted thought away.
"You are one of the priest's militant then?" 'Oh gods no! What if she is some Abadaran Inquisitrix, perhaps she is here to track down Eli?!' Marysin's breath catches at the panic inducing thought. 'Mustn't reveal anything! If she was sure she wouldn't be talking with me, she would be arresting Eli! There is still hope.'
Ysmerelda smiles bemusedly at Marysin's words, pulling an intricate silver bauble from within her armor. A Songbird, with long, curling tailfeathers enameled into a rainbow of color.
'Shelyn', oh thank you goddess!' Marysin almost collapses with relief.
Ysmerelda's yelps in startled concern as she grasps Marysin's shoulder in an attempt to keep her upright, incidentally drawing the two indoors in the process. Finding herself suddenly enervated, Marysin can do little more than direct Ysmerelda into the main room, where a bench provides better support than the alchemist tools-strewn table before it. Though Marysin never loses consciousness, she never really regains enough energy for Ysmerelda to feel comfortable leaving her & the two are still there in the room when Eli returns from the days labors. After some time conversing with the two, Ysmerelda keeps what little carried gear she brought with her in the gabled loft along with her cot.
Later, when things have gone wrong in Sandpoint:
the petite swordswoman remarked in greeting as she scooted aside to make room.
"I like to think of it as a reminder that man's works are transitory, in relation to the works of the gods." Zantus replied. "Not many soldiers take the time to stop & gaze at the stars."
"Albus? Ursion Albus? So you are the young miss Ysmerelda?"
'I thought she'd be taller...'
Smiling up at him,
"Hah! I just bet he did..."
"How he can hold on to that stiff-necked Chelaxian arrogance after all we've seen..."
** spoiler omitted **
Yes, I'm aware.
***
Really good work so far guys.
A.) I'm in the Atlantic timezone, one East of Eastern. I am able to post most all times, except some evenings when I have rehearsals. I am often on my iPhone or on the computer at work, so my postings might appear in spurts depending on how busy I am.
B.) I'm going to placehold this until I get home from work. I'll have something up later today.
C.)
Eli passed the Sandpoint Theater. He hoped Marysin would be healthy enough soon for him to take her to a show. She did love the theater. He found himself looking up Raven Street. He sighed and trudged on. Just ahead on the left was Bottled Solutions. Eli was new to Sandpoint, but he knew how to ask for information. Nisk Tander did not have a wonderful reputation in Sandpoint. His concoctions were known to be unreliable. Eli considered himself an excellent alchemist, and Alfonse had instilled in him a desire for perfection and he did not suffer incompetence or laziness easily. He already had a bad feeling about the place as he walked up to the front door, a case of samples of his own work clinking under his arm.
Inside, Bottled Solutions looked like many shops, if a bit dustier in places. My uncle's shop was never this dusty. he mused. And neither would mine be. When I have one. A bookish-looking Half-Elf was behind a low counter, speaking with a young woman.
"Now, my dear, this will help you with the nausea." the Half-Elf, Nisk, Eli surmised. The young woman looked around at Eli, startled. Moreso than he thought she should be. Nisk smiled at Eli and said, "Be right with you!"[/i] Eli nodded and started to look at the items on the shelves. He was not bothered by the strong smells, as he was used to them, but he did start to notice... some things were off. He shook his head as he identified an improperly prepared salve which would actually turn one's skin blue. Nisk continued to speak to the woman, who lowered her eyes, but kept furtively glancing at Eli. Nisk lowered his voice, but Eli could still make out what they were saying. [b]"Now don't you worry. This'll work. You have Nisk's guarantee!" he said, trying to seem confident. Eli, by now, had worked his way around the shop close to the counter, noting a few other spoiled products, until he could glance at what Nisk was selling the young woman. It was a chalky-looking blue liquid in a bottle, enough for a week or so, Eli guessed. He recognized the concontion as a type of Soothe Syrup designed to suppress nausea, but the specks floating in it were not typical. He frowned as the woman handed over some coins and fled the shop.
"And now what can I do for you, sir?" Nisk asked.
Some time later Eli left Bottled Solutions having gotten nowhere. Nisk was not interested in a partner, nor was he amenable to Eli's suggestions to improve his stock and Eli was forced to flee himself not long after when Nisk took offence to Eli pointing out an ill-made solvent mixture. Feeling dejected, he walked back down Raven Street. As he turned back onto Festival Street, he spotted the same woman from the shop. She was chatting with a couple other women. She avoided his gaze when she recognized him. Eli sighed, but something stopped him from passing her by. Call it professionalism, but he couldn't let her use Nisk's product. He waited and approached the woman when she left her friends. "Please, forgive my intrusion Miss. I don't care what your reasons were for buying the Soothe Syrup are, but I know you must have heard about Nisk's reputation in town. I am an Alchemist myself, and I hope to work in Sandpoint some day, but I can't let you go without offering you something that will actually work." Eli said rather quickly. The woman made an excuse and went to go. "Well, if it doesn't work! Come to my house on Prickleback Lane across from Vernah's!" he called out. He fumbled with his sample case and withdrew a small vial of liquid similar to that which she had bought from Nisk. "Try this, and if it works, come see me, please!" he added with an attempt at a smile. She paused, and took the vial and then rushed off.
Back home, Eli put on a brave face for Marysin, but he knew his prospects were poor if he couldn't get a job.
A) MST/MDT (MST, UTC-7 at the moment); I'm available to post starting early* morning and continuing throughout the day. I'm unavailable for an hour or two around dinner time, and then after about 10pm (8ish on Saturday nights, due to live gaming).
*on weekdays; bit later on weekends
B) Going to put this in a spoiler, because I think Doran probably shouldn't read it. Sorry, Doran. Hopefully you get to live it and don't miss reading it. :)
For one, Doran is Chelaxian. Pirknok was raised in an atmosphere which hates and vilifies Chelaxians at just about every opportunity. Doran's skin is dark, though, instead of the pale color typical of Chelaxians, with the result that Pirknok may not learn he's Chelaxian for a long time. That will be extremely interesting; if they know each other well by that time, Pirknok will have to deal with a living contradiction in his life. I'm not sure at this point how he'll resolve that; it'll depend a lot on how he's developed up to that point, and I don't plan that out beforehand. On the other hand, if the fact that Doran is from Cheliax comes out before Pirknok knows/trusts him, it's likely to create a pretty significant hurdle to be overcome before there can be a friendship.
Doran's lawfulness won't bother Pirknok; the dwarf is used to the shamans and elders of his tribe and quah (as well as those of the Shadde-Quah) solving disputes and meting out justice in accordance with tribal law. Even though he doesn't know all the laws of the region, and will probably experience some social (and potentially legal) blunders, he's never set out to disobey or willfully ignore the law.
Overall, I think the two would have a lot of fun together.
C) Wow... C was hard for me. It's like being the DM and the player at the same time... really helped me think through some things, though. (GM: This is based on the assumption that you're okay with my replacing Dwarven as a starting language with Shoanti.)
Pirknok, startled by the near-accident, looks up from the road. "Uh... what?" he asks. Noticing the rather blank expression on the dwarf's face, the old man frowns thoughtfully and switches to Common. "You... don't speak Dwarven, do you?" The tattooed head shakes, and the old man's eyes light up a bit. "Fascinating! You... you are a dwarf, aren't you? Of course, of course you would be. For a moment there I thought... but nevermind that. Come; you may carry these"—he practically dumps the stack of books on Pirknok—"but do be careful with them. Come along, come along!"
Neither speaks as they wend their way through town, though the pair certainly attracts some attention from passersby. "Ehe, take y'self a looksee a' that. What's ol' Brodert doin' with tha' dwarven fella?" "Oh, mind yer own business. Prolly just hired him t'carry his books." "A dwarf, fer a packhorse? Ha! Wunner how Master Briskalberd'd feel 'bout that!"
Finally, the pair arrives at a small building in the north-west part of town. The old man enters, and motions toward a table with a bit of room on top. "Them's heavy... they got goblins inside 'em?" remarks Pirknok, setting the books down carefully on the table and thinking of the shop's sign.
"Goblins? No, these are about—oh, no no no... they're books! Surely you've seen books before."
The dwarf shakes his head, grunting noncommittally. "My ma, she allus talked 'bout 'books', but ah ain't seen one 'fore now. Don't seem that useful ta me... jus' heavy, 'sall."
Upon hearing the Shoanti accent, sudden recognition dawns on the old man. "Yes, yes, that's it! That's IT! You're one of the Shoanti's Peace-born, aren't you! I've heard of the Treaty of Nirgrath and the Tribes before, but never met..." He trails off, peering more intently at the tattoos which decorate the dwarf's skin.
"Yeh. My type don't norm'ly go out, much... we jus' stay with our tribes, mostly. Other dwarves, they don't know how ta think uv us, rilly."
Continuing to study the inked designs, the old man exclaims aloud. "Aha! The Shundar-Quah, of the Storval Plateau; I recognize that design, there! But..." he frowns. "For what purpose... you're far from home, here in Sandpoint, aren't you?"
Pirknok nods, suddenly clenching his fists and looking down at his feet. "Yeh. Giants... giants got 'em, 'n there wasn't innythin' I cud do 'bout it. Tried, I rilly did tried..." he trails off, lost in his own thoughts.
The old man frowns, silent for a moment as he gazes at the dwarf's features. When he speaks again, it's more softly, contemplatively. "I once knew a dwarf in Janderhoff... we were friends, there. Marvelous fellow. Now, let me see if I can recall... ah yes. His great-great-grandfather, I think it was, had taken an exploratory expedition up north of Janderhoff, across the Storval Plateau, to see if they could start a new dwarven settlement there. Well, months passed, and nothing was heard of them... til one day—it was early winter, if I recall—one day a few dwarves with tattered clothing and scraggly beards were seen plodding wearily toward the citadel. They were the survivors, you see... the mission had failed."
Brodert pauses, as if trying to remember what happened next, and judges the effect of his words on the dwarf, whose fists have unclenched noticeably. He continues:
"Your people didn't give up, though. Old Grandfather Cragarm had a son, you see. After some time spent grieving their lost countrymen, the younger dwarves of Janderhoff rallied 'round the young Cragarm and set out to avenge their brothers and see to the fulfillment of the mission. That's what they did, too. Their losses were heavy, but your ancestors prevailed thanks to one of them, named Nirgrath, who made a treaty with the tribes of the Shoanti. After that, it was pledged that the two peoples would live in harmony and protect one another, and that there would always be dwarves among the tribes of the Shoanti."
"Never hurd that part told." says Pirknok, speaking in the silence that follows. He looks up, and meets the old man's gaze for the first time. "Don't know much 'bout my an...ancestors et all. Kin you tell me more, sometime?"
Brodert smiles, glad to have remembered the tale. "Certainly, certainly. Come by any time! Why, I don't believe I got your name. I am Brodert Quink, and happy to make your acquaintance."
"Um, Pirknok. 'ceptin' my Dwarf name is Grondyn... Grondyn Stonemight." Pirknok says the name slowly, enunciating carefully.
"Well met! Well met, indeed. I'm afraid I must get back to my studies, Grondyn, but do come back and visit me another time! Here, one last thing... take this over to the general store for me, would you?" He quickly scrawls a note to Ven Vinder asking for one of Solsta's pies to be given to the bearer, signs it, and hands it to Pirknok.
As he walks through the streets of Sandpoint munching on the unexpected pie, Pirknok ponders the old man's words. My people di'nt give up, though. They wen' back... they wen' back, an' there was allus dwarves, an' Shoanti. Allus.
You know, I've been thinking about this, and I think I will bow out of this one.
While I appreciate any GM's efforts to push people to write good backstories and be thoughtful on multiple levels on how to build an interesting and effective character, we're in a few rounds of "competition" to get into a PBP, a type of game which much more often than not dies a horrible death. I feel like the work just to get into the game is potentially disproportionate to what the game might end up being.
And just as the players are being tested to see if they are a good fit with the campaign, I also watch the potential GM's posts carefully to be sure they are a good fit with me. Feral, I am going to be frank, as you clearly have no issue being frank with others: while I appreciate your dedication to story building, you also seem to have very firm ideas about where you want to see character grow and evolve to a point that I would be concerned that we'd clash over what _I_ see as what should be my character's development. And (mechanical limitations of the campaign aside) I as the player get to control that (you get the rest of the entire world). You display a bit of inflexibility that also rubs me the wrong way--asking someone to explain their character build idea and then basically telling them they're wrong, and asking someone to change their avatar? Really? (Also, I'd look to the log in your own giant squicky eyeball.)
Were this the kind of game that was live action and the GM was someone I knew and trusted, I'd be more than willing to work on a much lengthier background than those I that I provide on my character sheets, and to work with fellow players to come up with mutual acquaintanceships in so forth. For a PBP, something which demands a bit of informality by its nature and something which has every likelihood, through no one particular person's machinations, to fall apart because crap happens, it smacks a little more of jumping through several very unnecessary hoops---especially when I have no guarantee of being in the game.
I am absolutely certain, Feral, that you've got your reasons you're doing the things the way you are, and do not get me wrong, I have every respect for a GM who is so dedicated to good character development. But I don't think personally this is a good use of my time or a good fit for me. Absolutely no offense intended.
Sincere apologies for wasting your or anyone else's time. I hope my bowing out at least opens a slot for someone who is more willing than I am to devote their time to this process. Good luck to everyone--and indeed, I very much hope you escape the curse most PBPs suffer from and that this campaign lasts a good long time.
You know, I've been thinking about this, and I think I will bow out of this one.
I'm sorry to hear that but I respect your decision.
While I appreciate any GM's efforts to push people to write good backstories and be thoughtful on multiple levels on how to build an interesting and effective character, we're in a few rounds of "competition" to get into a PBP, a type of game which much more often than not dies a horrible death. I feel like the work just to get into the game is potentially disproportionate to what the game might end up being.
Is it really?
Even though this is ultimately a PBP you have to consider the time involved. So far, in this recruitment process alone I've invested over 20 hours. That's a job - and with that comes a three step interview process. As such, I need to make sure I've got a group of players that are equally committed to me and each other.
I have been in four different games now with players that got accepted and then either started posted infrequently or stopped posting entirely because they were 'too busy to keep up' and yet had time to post consistently in other games/threads. That will not happen in my game. My players are going to be there because they want to be there and will have proved it.
And just as the players are being tested to see if they are a good fit with the campaign, I also watch the potential GM's posts carefully to be sure they are a good fit with me. Feral, I am going to be frank, as you clearly have no issue being frank with others: while I appreciate your dedication to story building, you also seem to have very firm ideas about where you want to see character grow and evolve to a point that I would be concerned that we'd clash over what _I_ see as what should be my character's development. And (mechanical limitations of the campaign aside) I as the player get to control that (you get the rest of the entire world). You display a bit of inflexibility that also rubs me the wrong way--asking someone to explain their character build idea and then basically telling them they're wrong, and asking someone to change their avatar? Really? (Also, I'd look to the log in your own giant squicky eyeball.)
Fair enough. I believe we're all inflexible in some ways but that's a valid concern. I'm not sure what you mean by the bolded part.
The avatar change was partly made in jest and partly as a personal request. I would not hold it against the application either way.
If the eyeball bothers anyone, please speak up. I don't mind changing it.
Were this the kind of game that was live action and the GM was someone I knew and trusted, I'd be more than willing to work on a much lengthier background than those I that I provide on my character sheets, and to work with fellow players to come up with mutual acquaintanceships in so forth. For a PBP, something which demands a bit of informality by its nature and something which has every likelihood, through no one particular person's machinations, to fall apart because crap happens, it smacks a little more of jumping through several very unnecessary hoops---especially when I have no guarantee of being in the game.
Most of the responses here have been above and beyond what I expected. I do not expect novels here, just proof that you've thought about your character. That's the purpose of these requests - they're probing questions intended to get you thinking.
Yes, it is largely jumping through hoops. As I mentioned earlier, this is a job interview. To ask me to invest hundreds of hours in the months to come in potentially unreliable and/or inconsiderate players seems unreasonable. I want players that are committed to this game.
I am absolutely certain, Feral, that you've got your reasons you're doing the things the way you are, and do not get me wrong, I have every respect for a GM who is so dedicated to good character development. But I don't think personally this is a good use of my time or a good fit for me. Absolutely no offense intended.
Sincere apologies for wasting your or anyone else's time. I hope my bowing out at least opens a slot for someone who is more willing than I am to devote their time to this process. Good luck to everyone--and indeed, I very much hope you escape the curse most PBPs suffer from and that this campaign lasts a good long time.
Thanks for your time regardless and best of luck in your future gaming.
C) Wow... C was hard for me. It's like being the DM and the player at the same time... really helped me think through some things, though. (GM: This is based on the assumption that you're okay with my replacing Dwarven as a starting language with Shoanti.)
That's reasonable.
It looks like everyone else is done super early!
You all get bonus points for diligence but since it's a competition, that doesn't really do much. Heh.
Do you guys want me to review and make my decisions now or do you want me to hold off until Sunday as originally planned?
I'd prefer as soon as possible.
I am every bit okay with you rendering your decision now. ;)
Now is fine with me, as well.
I still need to do my interaction with Pik, but I'm at a rehearsal and probably won't be home until late. Unless it doesn't matter. :P
I missed that.
You almost got away with it!
In the meantime, GM, two questions for you.
1) How do you handle PC death?
2) Do you have any house rules we should know about?
On the subject of posting. The week between the 26th & the 3rd, I will be visiting family out-of-state & my ability to post will be noticeably curtailed. Once I am back I foresee no impediments to posting for quite some time.
B.)
I am in favour of sooner rather than later as well.
If I jump the gun on the review and selection time/date it needs to be unanimous.
I'll get some information up with houserules after I get back from the gym. There's only a few but they're significant.
Just realized Aran never checked in... Ensu and Eli?
Sounds legit. I can manage waiting until Sunday, if need be, but I'm super anxious! :)
I suspect that I, too, would survive* a wait... but I'm pretty sure we're all eager to hear.
NO DICE, BUDDY.
SHUT UP I KNOW HOW TO TYPE, HONEST.
I see what you did there, that's for sure...
I feel I have lost this battle.
Also, had my Friday game tonight, got to play my Dwarf Barbarian with an Earthbreaker for the first time in combat.
Charge goblin, hit, crush his skull, charge another goblin, hit, crush his skull, charge another goblin, hit, knock his head clear off his shoulders.
Much fun was had!
Heh, I considered an earth breaker for Pirknok, but wanted there to be something that links him to his dwarf-ness.
A Dorn Dergar or however you spell that was suggested to me.
My guy doesn't really have a good reason for having an Earthbreaker beyond "It's a damn big hammer, and that's all right with me," where it would be very flavorful for Priknok, because it's one of the primary weapons of the Shoanti.
Nods, it definitely could've worked based on his backstory... but there's a point, to me, where it becomes "I'm using this race and basically pretending it's this other race" that just doesn't feel quite right. Also, the connection to his dwarfhood, however faint or distant, is important for the flavor of the character, I think.
There is something to be said for assimilating with the group, but I am most certainly not going to say that Dwarven weapons aren't awesome.
Like, damn. I wish they made badass Dwarven Crossbows. It'd be fully automatic and have magi-tacticool stuff on it. 10/10 would fire.
If you think you've got everything you need, feel free to make the selections if you're ready. I can wait, but I won't mind finding out early. ;)
Heh. I considered the longhammer too, 'cause that seems fun... but it mostly came down to cost and flavor, and I didn't have a whole lot of spare cash floating around.
I am amenable to an early resolution, yes.
Oops, didn't mean to leave you out, Ysmerelda. Saw your name in the posts while I was counting people up, and didn't notice that it wasn't actually saying what I assumed!
Even though it's been 24 hours with no movement from him, I'm inclined to give Aran the full time to reply.
That said, I take back what I posted previously about everyone getting the bonus points for diligence.
I'll be here regardless, so the timing of the decision does not really matter to me.
Just got a PM back from Aran. RL came up and he's got extremely limited connectivity. Says he'll be back on Tuesday if it's not too late.
Well that sucks.
Let me think on this for a bit. I'm leaning towards just moving on without him.
I spend a night at a party and we get nearly a full page of chat? Jeeze.
Hehehe...
I was bored, and Pirk was chatty!
Lies and deceit.
I was going to make a your mom joke, but I can't think of one.
Probably for the better.
...probably.
One of my DMs keeps joking about turning all our characters into girls. What do.
Amulet of change for the win. Or Girdle of Masculinity/Femininity, if you prefer Baldur's Gate.
Edit to clarify: (Those are suggestions for your GM about how to accomplish that. For you, I'd recommend an amulet of unchanging.)
Alright I've thought about it.
I'll give Aran some consideration but missing out on the second round of interview questions will seriously hurt his chances.
Judgement to come in a few hours.