All your life you knew that you had a destiny. You felt it in your bones, in your hair, your entire being. Growing up was painful. Everyday your eyes were drawn south at random times, and as a result you suffered weird looks and exasperated sighs, at worst, a thrasing. When you were old enough, you escaped your dull life. Perhaps you were a farmer, but didnt want to till the same field. Perhaps an apprentice, but smithing failed to give you satisfaction. Or you were a nobleman's son, your days filled with ease, yet unfullfilling. Whatever your life, you escaped. You traveled south, by foot most of the time, by wagon or ship when you could afford it.
As you get closer, you read a sign. "ILLIAN". Seeing this you feel like your coming home. At first, it is a lonely road, but soon enough the path fills with others, all with the same look on their face. A whisper is spoken, slowing raising in volume. "A Hunt". A hunt for what? Unknown.
You arrive in the grand city of Illian, and bypass the sites and head to the center. The place is called "The Square of Tammaz". Others join you, talking, excited. You feel it too. You wander aimlessly, wondering what has drawn you to this moment? You are answered when a man stands atop a podium, pulls out a scroll and begins to read aloud:
To all gathered here: You stand upon the square of greatness. From here, legends are born. Legends made, and legends found. 400 years ago, the call was made, and people answered. Legends were made, but not found. It is time, the wheel wills it. The Hunt for the Horn of Valare begins again.
Cheers thunder around the square as tens of thousands proclaim the Hunt. You listen with rapt attention as the Oath is spoken, laying out your life's quest:
Upon my hope and salvation in the Light, I shall seek the Horn of Valare. I will never waiver in my quest. I will not fear should the quest become fearsome. I will find the Horn of Valare! As you say those words, a chill flows up your spine, as if you are stepping into the roll of destiny.
After the ceremony, you search about, thinking. You have no knowledge of where the Horn may be. Sure, there are stories and rumors abound, especially after the ceremony as everyone proclaims where the Horn is. But without regard, you step forward, thrusting into destiny.
The quest proves to be with hardship and burden. Your coinage stolen, beaten, accused of murder when you defend yourself, you spend more time fleeing than investigating rumor and half-truths. Soon, you feel that familar tug. Something pulling you north. It is slow going. The roads grow lawless, forcing you to spend days in saftey, for bandits prowl relentlessly. Then, suddenly, the pull shifts from the northeast to the west. You bravely step out and head west, unsure why you go that way. Making it into Amadica you begin to feel the change direction, from west, to north, and gradually east. Following it, you are able to make good time. It pulls you past Illian, and into Tear. In Tear, you witness the Stone fall, and hear the proclomation of The Dragon Reborn. Your journey doesnt end there. Haddon Mirk, Far Madding, and eventually travel to Aringill. The pull suddenly comes back, drawing you to Cairhein. You arrive just days after the Aiel free the city. You wander about, listless, and then get pulled again, this time west. You travel west until you reach Caemlyn. There, you feel a purpose. A sense that this is correct. Your time is well spent, learning, searching. The amnesty may interest you, it may not.
After a short while, you again feel the pull. Travel to Cairhein, up towards Tar Valon, then south to Far Madding again. It becomes maddening, all this travel, this incesstant pull. It isn't allowing you the opportunity to complete your quest for the Horn.
Finally, after months of travel, boots with holes, clothing torn, ragged and wanting a proper bed to sleep in, you arrive in Caemlyn. The pull no longer seems to be bouncing about. It pulls you in one direction.
North.
Hello everyone. If you are still reading this, and have recognized the names dropped in the above introduction, then you know that this is a recruitment for a Wheel of Time adventure.
PC creation:
Level 12
attribute Point buy: 25 pts.
Max HPs
Starting wealth is 2,000 Mrk.
All items will be masterwork items, with no added cost added.
i will allow access to the netbook "under the dragons banner, but please annotate what you have taken so i can easily reference it
Access to one of the following ter'angreal
available to non channelers only
warders sword: +2
Headband of wisdom +2
Ring of Saidar or Saidan detection
Breastplate of reinforcement +2
Anklet of speed: +10 to movement
Penara's buckle (WOTRPG 298)
Dagger of Resistance (WOTRPG 296)
something from the netbook UDB, but i have final say
Channelers only
Ring of Saidar/Saidan level 1: Allows you to store Saidar or Saidan inside equal to weave level.
at character creation, roll d100 and see below
angreal 1 01-90%
angreal 2 91-98%
angreal 3 99-100%
something from the netbook UDB, but i have final say
For skills, please see my conversion found here to see which skills translate from the WOTRPG to Pathfinder.
Feats: Feats from WOTRPG are allowed. The netbook feats are allowed, please annotate for my easy reference. Feats from Pathfinder, if it fits with the setting, i will allow it. Please ask before assigning.
Weapons and armor: anything found in the netbook, WOTRPG and the pathfinder core rules is allowed. If you see something in on the pathfinder srd website, let me know and i will check it out.
The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass leaving memories that become legend, then fade to myth, and are long forgot when that Age comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose within the Aiel Waste. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.
Flowing out from Haddock Mirk, the breeze picks up the stench of death and decay, and carries it along its course. Breezing through the farmlands of southern Cairhein, peasents stop and wrinkle their face at the sodden smell. Whispering a prayer to the Creator, they bend over and continue their tasks, sowing the fields and tending livestock.
Gliding across the ground, the wind changes directions, as if it is avoiding the city of cairhein itself. The long tail prairie grasses bend under the breeze, startling ground critters near and far.
North and west it travels, flowing over small villages and towns, causing hung laundry to flap and flail, some even unclip and fall onto the dry, dusty earth. Cows and pigs snort and bellow at this sickly scented wind.
North and west. As if driven by someones hand, the wind holds true. It flows across more land, until finally it flows through a spot that seems to have recently known death on a grand scale. The wind circles the perimeter, dead mens shirts and banners wave in the breeze. Over bodies, men and women, whose glazed eyes stare up at the sky. Flowing inward, it passes over a more horrific scene of war, a war conducted with the one power. A large circle, 10 feet high, and 12 strides deep, stands as a testement to this use of power. This wall is of death, for mutilated bodies form it. The circle makes a large perimeter surrounding the remnants of a camp. Wagons, once burning, are now extingushed and smoulder. Graves are being dug for people of importance.
The breeze now blows through this large encampment, and men in black jackets, some with pins in their colars, snort as the smell assails their noses. The wind moves past women kneeling, all dressed in fine clothing, all looking shocked at something that had just happened. The smell of death doesnt register with them, for they are dealing with something far worse...
...they are shielded by the men in black jackets.
Into this camp walks a strange group. 5 figures, 2 men in the black jackets with pins in the colar, a woman wearing fine clothing with an outraged look to her face, a swordsman following the woman whose eyes dart between the two men in the black jackets, and a rarity; an Ogier, walking with a large staff in hand. Onlookers can clearly see that the two men in black, those Asha'man, are escorting the three others.
Feel free to interact amongst yourself, introductions and what not, but remember, this setting is unfolding directly after the battle of Dumani Wells, where the Dragon has just made Aes Sedai bend knee to him, and he has shown the world the asha'man.
"As stories do, the tale spread, across Cairhien and north and south, by merchant train and peddler and simple
traveler gossiping at an inn. As stories do, the tale changed with every telling. The Aiel had turned on the Dragon
Reborn and killed him, at Dumai's Wells or elsewhere. No, the Aes Sedai had saved Rand al'Thor. It was Aes Sedai
who had killed him— no, gentled him— no, carried him to Tar Valon where he languished in a dungeon beneath
the White Tower. Or else where the Amyrlin Seat herself knelt to him. Unusually for stories, it was something very
close to truth that was most often believed.
On a day of fire and blood, a tattered banner waved above Dumai's Wells, bearing the ancient symbol of Aes Sedai.
On a day of fire and blood and the One Power, as prophecy had suggested, the unstained tower, broken, bent knee
to the forgotten sign.
The first nine Aes Sedai swore fealty to the Dragon Reborn, and the world was changed forever. ~The Lord of Chaos. Robert Jordan
I am looking to start a Wheel of Time adventure. Takes place right after the Battle of Dumai's Wells.
Conversion: While the WOT rpg is using the 3.5 rules, It is easy to make the tweaks to convert to Pathfinder. IE: balance and tumble and jump are now acrobatics, Hide and move silently is now Stealth. If you have any questions about what converts, ask me, and i will help.
PC build: Roll 4d6, drop lowest. you can roll 2 sets right away.
6th level characters. I need one character to prestige class as an Aes Sedai or an Asha'man. Would prefer one of each, but the adventure will work with either one.
Max HP.
Max Marks (gold).
passing through the door, you see a couple torches held up in sconces in the walls. Glancing around, you see that this is a very large room. and yet, at the extreme end, you see that the torchlight cannot pierce the darkness in that far corner.
Two large iron doors, on straight ahead, another 15 feet away, stand closed and unyeilding.
the chill and damp air clings to your body, and you are not the only one feeling it judging by the cough coming out of the darkness.
passing through the door, you see a couple torches held up in sconces in the walls. Glancing around, you see that this is a very large room. and yet, at the extreme end, you see that the torchlight cannot pierce the darkness in that far corner.
Two large iron doors, on straight ahead, another 15 feet away, stand closed and unyeilding.
the chill and damp air clings to your body, and you are not the only one feeling it judging by the cough coming out of the darkness.
wherever you are, whatever your doing, at precisely the same time, a scroll manifests in the air in front of you and hovers there, beckoning you to grasp it. looking closely at the wax impression, you see the familiar sign of the patriarch of the ghawn family identifying the sender.
reaching out, you grasp the scroll and proceed to open it up. insides is writing.
"after the sun has set, meet me at the old family house outside the town. we must talk as a family." His tusk mark is shown in place of his name.
knowledge local DC 10 to figure what he is talking about
non ghawn adventurers:
a scroll pops into existence in front of you, surprising you. you dont identify the markings in the scroll but your boredom gets the better of you. you snatch it out of the air and break the seal. inside is a message written in large letters.
"adventurer, bored? looking for some excitement? want to make some easy money? if so, meet up at caves outside of town after sunset.
give me a dc 15 knowledge local or geography to figure out where the caves are
the short speech seems to have an effect on the masses in different ways. the militia from cheliax are clapping, thumping shields, and hollering praise and blessings onto the lord general. the varisians on the other hand, seem a little shocked at the mans frank nature, and look about the militia with strange looks. Many of the varisians are muttering various things, this better work and this guy is in charge of the expedition? and the most spoken who in the 9 hells is this guy?
im making a human rogue sniper variant from APG. doing some reading to make sure i have it all correct, and i read about how the humans get a +1 skill rank bonus to all class skills. for having a favored class, you can either take a +1 hp inc, or a +1 skill rank increase. And then ontop of that, you have your base skill rank.
but the confusion is where it states that you cannot have more ranks than your total HD. so are the favored class and human skill ranks a bonus ontop of the base =HD, ie:
which is it below?
1st level human rogue (HD rank + human rank + favored class rank)= 3
or
1st level human rogue (hd rank) and thats it?
my first time building a druid, and i am at a loss as how to go. most of the feats in the books just stand out for wiz or fighter or cleric, but im having a hard time figuring out how to build this druid, and what route to go, since i have seen people talk about wild shape druids, and spell caster druids. Ill admit, i like the idea of being the shapechanger, but not sure if its the best.
Harsk,
dwarven ranger with a knack towards crossbows. Originally in the employ of Nualia, acting as a body guard to her, but by the powerful display of the invading party, and his own doubts to Nualia's goals, has changed sides and was instramental in her eventual destruction.
Lamanek:
Human Sorcerer of the draconic bloodline, currently searching for his missing master and seeking knowledge of of his draconic heritage. Quick of wit and master of knowledge, his major contribution to the party is deciphering an off-world language that details the rise of a human mage from mortal to godhood, but destroying the planet instead.
Tuklus
a human fighter that grew up in sandpoint and was the sergent of the town guard. He life was cut short by having his head chewed off by a barghest while attempting to clear out the 2nd level of nualia's stronghold.
Antrix
Originally was a halfling sorcerer, turns out his fate has been linked with a book from off world. When the book was read and studied, antrix was released from a half centuries curse that caused himself to be melded with an elf. Upon regaining consciousness, Antrix informed the party that he was, in fact, a kender from the land of krynn. The elf that was apart of him, is also from this world. with the loss of the elfs emotions and self restraint, antrix quickly reverts back to kender tendencies. Antrix is now seeking a way to get back home...
Debard
A half orc from the surrounding farmlands, he took to adventuring with his half elf brother Bayot and quickly headed to sandpoint. His status became legendary after succeeding in repeling the goblin invasion of sandpoint 2 weeks past. Having taken the title of "general", Debard has ensured that the moral of sandpoint has never waivered and is activly helping the town in any way possible
Bayot
Half elf ranger, half brother to Debard the half orc, Bayot is a crack shot with the longbow. While he faired worse than his Bardic brother in repelling the goblins, Bayot has gained much respect by saving Aldern Foxgloves life and even leading the party to thistletop with his great tracking skills. On more than one occasion, Bayots aim has saved his fellow adventurers from certain death.
Brandr
human kelied from the northlands, a champion to his god Gorum. Having found out about the legendary armor of Gorum, Brandr has arrived to sandpoint seeking out the local sage in hopes of securing a book that is supposed to contain the last known location of this armor.
Having barricaded yourselves into the circular study of the former owner, nualia, who still lies in her own pool of blood at the door, you all settled down to patch wounds and plan the next step. The room is comfortable, with luxurious chairs to sit in, it is very easy to nod off and fall asleep, especially with the quiet gurgle from the fountain.
Everyone has settled in to take care of things, hursk to dool out some healing potions to everyone, turlsk to drink the healing potions, bayot to test out the new bow, lamanic is reading the spells from the scrolls and figuring out what they are, and antrix is off in a corner writing a sheet.
a few hours pass, and antrix has completed his job. he stands up, stretches, and casually hands the scroll to lamanic, informing him that it is a key to ease with translation.
Lamanic, with great enthusiasm, grasps the scroll and moves over to the book, and starts to line up letters and words. Soon enough, he can be heard muttering to himself in a strange language, one that no one has ever heard of before.
Suddenly, Lamanic cries out I HAVE DONE IT!! I HAVE TRANSLATED THIS BOOK. Eat your heart out master
The commotion awakens most of the room, but lamanic is quickly back into the zone of total study and concentration. only hursk is the one who continues to snore.
The rest of the "night" continues on unremarkable. a couple hours before "dawn", Lamanic slams the book down in exasperation.
this book makes no sense. this strange sense of time keeping? these weird names of important people? Who is this raistlin? and where are these locations? and what sort of magical properties do these "vallenwood trees" posess?
For the past four days, it has been raining. alot. the annoying and angry kind, big fat plops of water followed with heavy mist. the accumulation of water has turned the road ways into a vast sea of mud. Unfortunetly, there is no wind, so the humidity hangs in the air like a death viel, coating you in so much sweat that you think it just may be better to step outside of the green griffin inn and let the shower sluice away the nasty coating of sweat...
the other bad news is that the last four days have been boring. very boring. you and the other patrons have taken to sitting around smoking pipeweed, drinking cheap ale, and eating half flanks of mutton steaks and day old stew.
at first, ian stoleson, the innkeeper and owner, was glad to have you staying at his inn and buying his ale and food; but now, he has become crass and annoyed. Not at you personally, but at what you represent, no new customers. No traders. No trade to restock the pantry.
the morning of the fifth day dawns, and you awake to the sound of rain, again. you use the chamber pot, spilling the contents out the window in the customary lazy fashion, pull on your lightest clothing, and already feel the beads of sweat form on your brow as you step into the hall and head down stairs...
first posting gets to be first and so on... post what your chacter is wearing and any physical descriptions you may have
got an interesting campaign idea in my head and i want to try out the new hackmaster basic rules. looking for 4 players. its ok if you do not have the book, just download the quickstart rules or drop a line here with your email and ill send it to you.
Posts
