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Sorry to hear that. We'll be patiently (Well except for Baazil) in the guard shack. Adam. You captured my feelings exactly about Pathfinder/5E. It was cool when introduced in 3.0 having all the options... but as the games expanded it codified too much in my opinion.
Baazil's face begins to redden at the disrespect shown by the short one. "Humph. My bad. Didn't realize that you were an orphan. It's obvious that if anybody taught you anything growing up it would be respect for your elders. You could have hurt someone or pi&()**ed someone off enough to injure themselves with your antics". He then turns away to look at the remainder of his new team nodding in thanks at the respect of the armored one. Looks like a lot of good reasons for any enemies not to notice the old man hiding in the back. "Yes. Let's go. I am called Baazil and am practiced in the arcane arts".
Baazil quickly turns at the noise behind him and shakes his head with a scowl. When he finds out he's teamed up with this group he continues muttering to himself. Dang young folks. Why do they have to make so much noise.
He then follows the young clankety clank, to the spearman in time to overhear his conversation. He rolls his eyes at this ones eagerness. Pretty clear he's never taken a wound. Not even a bad hang-nail.
Baazil's hands went to his coin purse to ensure that it still weighed a bit. "Hmmm. Work, I guess. Which way"? He then smiled rubbing his own mustache. "Nice Mustache by the way".
Baazil groans, stretches his back, and blinks the sweat from his eyes. His only thoughts on a soft bed and warm food. He starts to speak, but quickly realizes that his throat is to parched to do more than croak. He then steadies himself, swallows to moisten his throat and speaks. "I am Baazil a mere traveler seeking a warm bed and food. My business is my own, but I mean no trouble".
Ironically @ CHA 12 - the old goat Baazil is our party face :) Andrew "Dice" Clay Charisma :-)
Baazil had never been popular. He was considered a country bumpkin, and his mom dressed him funny and gave him a weird haircut. The other kids made fun of him and threw mud clods at him at every chance... so needless to say his social skills were severely underdeveloped. His chances for a happy marriage and love interest were not looking good so when Widow Selma and her 20-acre goat farm expressed interest he entered the no love, mutually beneficial marriage. Selma was barren so the lack of passion was no big deal particularly since Baazil had learned to never open himself up to additional emotional toil. The neighbors learned to never invite them to social events and the couple responded by never allowing visitors to the farm... still Baazil was tormented by the neighboring children who considered it a fun game to sneak onto the property and pull pranks. Without doubt his reaction to these shenanigans was the talk of the town. Baazil worked the farm and Selma practiced being mean and they were both content in these roles... till Baazil decided to become a Rhubarb farmer as well. How was he to know that Rhubarb leaves were poisonous to Goats. So to make a long story short... Selma died from some strange wasting sickness, all the goats died, and to top things off they ate all the Rhubarb before passing. Baazil had no reason to go on, so he sold the farm, and bought a ruined tower in the swamp outside of town. He liked it because he could go to the top and throw things at anybody who got too close. He was content to live here on his own till he passed away, but once again fate intervened. Baazil had bought a cart full of turnips and went into the basement storeroom to store them when a soft place in the wooden floor gave way and he tumbled into a hidden chamber beneath the floor. He hit his head and went unconscious. When he awoke with a splitting headache, he was in some type of lab with broken crockery, glass and empty containers everywhere. Sorting through the ruined apparatus he found unidentifiable dried materials, small animal skeletons, and all types of strange runes and script written everywhere. Then behind a small panel he found the book. One thing being a recluse did was that he taught himself to read in the long hours of solitude in his parents' home, and until he sold his book collection to buy Rhubarb seeds, he had a small collection... but none like this. He brought the book upstairs and for the better part of a year tried to understand what was written here... then he did. A spellbook... could he train himself to be a wizard this late in his life? Could this give him a direction to pursue and a reason to live? Maybe not. He was still inclined to meanness but realized that if he could do magic it might open doors to fulfillment and wealth... if he could learn to get along with others perusing the same thing.
Should be fun. Wee Jas works in mysterious ways...
Any Chance you could start up the "Gameplay" thread, so this campaign shows up on our main page instead of having to go to the recruiting thread every time? Thanks, I just assumed since the original modules were in Greyhawk we'd use those deities... hence the appearance of Wee Jas :-)
Baazil was a goat farmer in the far northern reaches. His wife died a few years back, the grass on his farm got diseased and all his goats died. He was ready to end it when a loose board in his dilapidated shack gave way and he fell into a much older foundation of his domicile. There he found an old lab of some sort full of broken glass, unidentifiable ingredients, and tons of old ruined parchment... but for that one tome that seemed untouched by time... Maybe it wasn't too late to teach an old goat new tricks.
Looking forward to this group! Could you please start up the "Gameplay" thread so we can begin to dot with our characters... |
