DEWN MOU'TAIN's page

i feel foolish asking this, but whenever i try to run a search for anything within one of my play by post threads, the search function comes up with nothing.

for example: i go through this page, and i search for undermountain. it is a common unique term, as i am running an undermountian campaign. But, when i type it into the search box at the top right of the page and hit enter, nothing comes up.

and i tried this on my shadowrun game, and noticed it in previous games as well, but i thought maybe you guys were running backups on the database or something and something got messed up.

Now, here is the funky part. i can go to another game thread that i am not in nor do i run, and type in a random word, and the search function works flawlessly.

Im scratching my head here....

The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Fourth Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose on the Sea of Storms. 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.

Over the vast sea it flew. High and low, this way and that, it traveled. It caressed the oceanic lows, and it sprayed mist from the highest of white caps! Here and there, it flew, gay as only an ocean bound spirit of air can be.

And yet, for as large of a presence this wind was, it was not that noticeable. It barely wafted over the deck of the Maiden's kiss, bringing relief from the hammer blows of the sun's heat that pound upon any face and body that is forced to be on deck.

below decks, it is worse. the holds were thrown open, yet the wind wasnt strong enough to enter and flush out the stench of 70 men and women that traveled over the Sea of Storms. Men and women laid upon hammocks or sat at small tables playing dice games. One man stood just below an open hold, attempting to cool everyone by waving a large fan, but it did little beyond the semblance of hope.

The channelers all sat together, looking at the angry, baleful looks from the non channelers. Even an Aes Sedai felt a minor shiver of fear run up her spine from the glares.

It all started when the ship ran into it's first storm on the Sea. A mighty bruiser of a storm, thunder and lightning rained down upon the sea, near and far! wind and rain lashed at the deck! the sails were brought down, tied to the masts to prevent damage. The windfinder tried to channel, an attempt to limit the Storms impact upon the vessel, only to be rendered unconscious! Only the masterful navigation of the ship's captain, a Seanchan named Captain Arl Bannorld, allowed the ship to stay topside of the waves.

After that, once the Windfinder recovered, she talked with other channelers, and they too admitted that attempting to channel was very difficult. It was as if remnant weaves were still alive in the air, and they attached to their own weaving attempts, creating the potential for disastrous consequences. A proclamation was put out onto the ship: "anyone who channels gets thrown overboard".

the safety of the ship was more important than the desires of one individual.

There was one exception allowed. the windfinder. She had to use her powers to propel the ship south, for the ship did not hold enough food for a nominal, sail power.

For the next three weeks, the Windfinder, and Captain Bannorld, guided the ship through the treacherous Sea of Storms. In the calm, the windfinder used her powers. but when a storm was upon the horizon, she stopped and retired below deck.

And, just when Land was discovered, disaster struck!
The windfinder died!
As was described by the female channelers that were watching and learning on the deck, the Windfinder held her cables of air fast before her, pulling a stiff breeze into the sails. It was a weave the Windfinder had done numerous times before. and the conditions were right, no storms on the horizon, no storms had recently passed. And yet, one moment, the strands of air held true, and the next, a rogue strand of Spirit pierces the weave and shreds it! the cut weave rebounded hard into the Windfinder, destroying her from within. In the space of a heartbeat, she went from standing and whole, to a twisted, rent ruination of a human.

after that, until people were on dry land, and well away from the ship, no one could channel.

this is a discussion page

Character Creation rules:
Attributes: Roll 4d6, drop the lowest.

HP: MAX As other players who have played in my games before will attest, you need them for my games.

Starting Level: 10th

Where the game is starting in the book series: + 10 years post Tarmon Gai'don

Source Material: Wheel of Time RPG book
Pathfinder books
the netbook Under the Dragons Banner (UtDB)

I made a folder for everyone to access. It has Netbooks, a copy of the character creation rules, the netbook under the dragons banner for you, the player to download and use, plus a couple other info that i think helps players understand the world post AMOL.

Do not take any initiative enhancing feats. In my pbp games, I dont bother with using initiative.Instead real life manages that when combat occurs

special note: there is no taint! so we no longer will track that.
also: males are allowed to take the class initiate

The big list of Homebrew WOT rules:

Equipment: everyone starts with 150 Gold Crowns.
There are not very many magical objects, aka ter'angreal, found in the wild of the westlands. However, there are caches of objects found throughout the lands. Tear and Tar Valon are two of the best known locations that have these One Power devices/objects. However, that is not to say that there are not other locations that could have ter'angreal objects. Perhaps a cloak is a ter'angreal, or a knife was forged with the one power?
For magical gear, make a list of what angreal or ter'angreal youd like to have, and ill see if its appropriate. For inspiration, you are welcome to look at the pathfinder magical items and we can work together on if its an item that matches your character level or not.

Background traits in the WOTrpg vs pathfinder:
The WOTrpg book has background traits built into it, but there is a limited selection. And a few of them provide an initiative bonus. You can use a pathfinder background trait, but it needs to be modified to the WOT setting with an apt descriptive text. Or if the WOTrpg book as a trait that you like, but has an initiative modifier for a benefit, we can work out a proper replacement.

im sure im missing something, so please feel free to ask!

Pondering running a wheel of time game.

Time if adventure: +5 years post tarmon Gai'don.

Adventure: Exploring the Isle of Madmen

Let them have their wetlands, their sul'dam, their retreating blight. Let the Crowns squabble in their Game of Houses. Me! Im heading south. There's fresh land to be had, to be conquered. Land that hasnt been influenced by the witches of Tar Valon....
-the return of Jain Farstrider

The actual recruitment thread

I am making this post to encourage people to apply for my shadowrun 4e game found in the link above.

this post is to specifically state that the recruitment thread is open to anyone, and is not a closed thread anymore.

thank you.

any questions, please post it in the other recruitment thread

closed recruitment

Game rules: 4th ed Shadowrun

starting build points: 425

Books to use: only use the core rulebook, the 20th anniversary 4e rulebook.

Everyone must have at least one negative quality. You can only take incompetence once.

Concept: Zombie survival in the Nu age. The group is tasked with infiltrating a mansion located outside of Seattle to investigate why communication attempts have failed...

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The wind howled with rage! It screamed down the wide streets, the narrow alleys. It clawed at anyone, at any thing caught outside. It threatens to peel off unpinned hats, unclasped cloaks, even the tightest of garments.
The cold was neigh the icy grip of death! It penetrated deep, sucking vitality, emotion, laughter and joy! it brings only misery and sadness. It dampens the will to live. It crawls through the tiniest gap, the thinnest flap, licking and caressing as only an undead lover can accomplish. Muscles cry out in agony, in pain as the cold freezes the blood, the tissue, even the marrow.
With the wind and cold comes the snow. Large, fat balls of snow fall upon the Realm's only metropolis, Waterdeep. The wind hurls icy wet balls into walls, the street, lamp posts, armor, and faces, all them and more. The snow clings to any and all, soaking building, barrel, and person alike. Lord and Lady, commoner and slave, elf or human, the snow, the cold, and the wind do not care who it affects. This weather simply is.

Lords and Ladies do not venture out of their large mansions, their miniature fortresses, their warm domiciles. For to venture out was to taste the chill of Death. Yet the commoner, the slave, those without, have no choice but to endure. For the only other option, is death. Snow, wind and cold haunt the streets, striking without warning, a serial killer stalking victims at whim. Those that must venture the streets, slip from building to building, seeking to avoid that which roams openly the roads and pathways of the large city. They flit about, moving with purpose, ignoring others, seeking that little bit of food, of item, to sustain them.

The Lords on high, the Lords of Waterdeep, dispatch messengers, missives to the masses. The message answers a few questions, but leaves more. It reads

Residents of Waterdeep,

Know that the court wizards have probed this storm for magical interference. The priests have divined the essence of this winter blizzard. These sages have conferred, and report that this storm is not the work of some magical entity. This storm is of nature herself.
A massive tropical storm has swept in off the Sea of Swords, and, as luck would have it, the cold north seems to have reached far to the south, far enough to plunge our fair city with it's icy grip! This cataclysm of natural events has writ large the effects upon our city fare!
Take heart, citizens, this storm shall pass. we know not when, but it too shall pass.
The young woman struggles to raise her voice over the commotion within the common room of the Yawning Portal, her high pitch making the final sentence from the Lords sound terrifying instead of reassuring.
Yet, for as cold as it was outside, inside the Yawning portal, it was warm and thriving! travelers from near and far intermingled with residents of waterdeep. A place that normally held entertainment and enjoyment for all who came now provided much needed warmth (and food)! Men and Women, old and young, and those in between, Elves, dwarves, gnomes, halflings, aasimars and tieflings, they packed in, drinking warming liquids, eating the best that the Inn could offer. Games were held every where. Dice rolling, dart and knife throwing. On the stage set in the back, bards would try their hand at telling the tall tales.

And yet, for the Balanced Coin, time at the Yawning Portal Inn has not been one of idleness and comradery. Instead, it has been one of work. Hard work. Cold work.

The Yawning Portal is Waterdeep's most popular inn. And the most popular inn needs food. needs liquor. Needs firewood.

the storm has seriously hampered its ability to get fresh supplies.

The Balanced Coin had no sooner arrived at the inn than a rather portly house Mistress had pressed them into service.
The cold has either driven off or killed my runners. The inn needs provisions, otherwise the patrons will begin to die off. or worse, leave she had said.
the job was easy enough. go to point A, gather items, bring back to the Inn. Go back out, head to point B, bring back, repeat.

It was the cold, the snow, the wind, the desperate that was the hard part.

Cold froze the axles of the wagons. Snow drifts hampered movement, making easy routes difficult, or impossible to navigate. The wind threatened to topple the wagon and all of you. The desperate were the worst. You have a job to do, and unfortunately you cannot help everyone. And worse, Mistress Pol, knew exactly how much meat and mead, bread and beer, leeks and liquor, was ordered, and expected to be delivered. i do care about those less fortunate, but i care more about the fortunate that are here, now, and paying She broke no deviation.

For three days, you hauled in the cold, the wind, the snow. In return, you received free room and board. Your food was the hottest, your blankets the snuggest (though the rooms were nothing more than servant rooms).
However, today was different. today was your day off. or your job pause? youre not sure. Mistress Pol had said simply Go spend some time in the common room. enjoy yourself. If i need you, i shall call you

so now, you sit in the middle of the common room, the loudness of commotion as everyone tries to talk to everyone, trying to be louder than everyone else, resulting in a communal roar of noise. The fireplace burned hot, yet it was the press of the masses that provided the warmth. The wooden beams set into the walls, supporting the ceiling, gleamed a brilliant brown sheen from polish. Windows had been covered with rich red blankets, blocking out the harshest of the cold that creeps in through the windows.

overall, the atmosphere was cozy, given what was going on outside. For though the coldness of Death roams the roadways, the warmth of community was strong within the Yawning Portal.

this is the OOC page.

Its late, im laying in bed typing this out, halfway asleep. So if it doesnt make sense, ill fix it later

Setting: forgotten realms, 3.5e setting.

Ruleset: pfe1

8 level
Max HPs
Roll 4d6, drop the lowest. Can reroll 1s.

Starting gold: ill get that later.

Two traits. One drawback

Background skills used

Races: core races or forgotten realms races

Classes:ask. Archetypes are allowed

Alignment: yes, you can play evil if you want. DM me. Or the whole party can play evil,i dont care.

I have a few adventure ideas and am feeling the urge to explore one of these below.

Choose your top three

1: evil forgotten realms adventure, where you are scouts for the Zhentarum keeping the black road "safe". 12th level

2: pvp tomb of horrors. Can you survive the tomb of horrors? How far can you last if your companion wants to stick a dagger in your back? 10th level

3: wheel of time adventure. More of a slice of life, do gooder hero adventure. 12th level

4: pathfinder 1e: breaking into prison. Basically, your testing out a prisons security features. 12-15th level. Not sure on level yet

5: shadowrun! Summed up: "wait, demons exist?!?!"

6:forgotten realms: undermountain. Need i say more? 7th level

click this to start

Upfront: i am very rusty with High level adventures. Last time i ran such high levels was 20 years ago in the time of 3.0/3.5.

my thinking is we do a epic level encounter with some epic level characters as a way to help me relearn how High level encounters and adventures work. i really hate the idea of throwing encounters that are either too low or too high at a group and having folks annoyed with me.

so, we are going to do one or more encounters to help me learn this stuff.

I am going to start off with a CR 22 creature and you will get to fight it. arena style.

Character creation guidelines

level: 21

stats: Roll 4d6, drop the lowest. reroll 1s.

Classes: Core classes only. archetypes are allowed.

Prestige classes are allowed.

races: core races only.

starting wealth: 1,000,000 gold. No single item may be worth more than 15% of 1,000,000 gold. so 150,000gps. (this rule may need to be tweaked.)

Feats: standard/traditional. no elephant in the room.

skills: instead of traditional, we can go adventuring/background skills. This i understand!!!

HPs: roll. Wait, what? Rizzen isnt doing his traditional Max HP rule??? yes.

traits: 1

epic level rules, basics

Backstory: if you want to, ok. but, for this, its not necessary.

Theme of character: let me know what youre attempting to do with your character. for example, you take 16 levels wizard, 5 levels of force missile mage. Thisll make you an insane machine gunning force missile mage master. ok cool. i like the theme. You want to make a fighter that holds to the saying "i studied the blade", awesome! love it! Watched the drunken master movie series one too many times and now want to play a monk that is a drunken master? Superb!!!

Setting: Forgotten Realms, 3rd edition setting. Dang it, i like that setting! so i am going to use it. lots of wonderful kingdoms and creatures to explore!!!

I am only going to select 4 players for this arena style play. This is to keep things easier for me and for the players.

Thanks

For the longest time, ive been wanting to run a game that goes from level 1 to level 20+, one that allows characters to grow and build up their powers. And, as a DM, id be able to use those big, massive, high tier CRs that are just mind blowing!

but

time waits for no man.

So i decided to say screw it. I am going to pull the trigger now.

Are you, the reader, interested in doing an epic level encounter, fighting against a creature who's CR is 20+? Perhaps save that princess from the Great Red Wyrm? A demon lord? the dreaded Tarrasque?

My research into epic levels for pathfinder is 1) there arent any rules, but we go by mythic rules. 2) there was this dude who made some PF1e epic homebrew rules based off of 3.0/3.5 epic level handbook, but the link is dead, so i dont have the pdf he created, however it cannot be that difficult to say "hey, just default to the 3.0/3.5 ELH rules"

I will admit, i am very, very, very rusty with the high tier rules, the abilities and capabilities, the potentials. This is considered the heads up that i will probably make mistakes.

IC posts here

5th level
30 point buy
background skills
max HPs
Max Gold

Youve been on an island the last few days, exploring. You were a mercenary upon the ship "Wetted Wench", a hired blade to ward off pirates... well, other pirates and freebooters. A fire caught on the ship, spread fast. You only survived because you were in the crows nest that night. The full moon made the ocean a silver platter when you leapt from the high seat into the waters below, escaping the flames that angrily consumed the wood ship.
It was a long swim, to the nearest shoreline. Earlier, the during sunset, the dying light of the sun had kissed the tops of three tall mountains on the horizon. As the moon rose high, you spied the same tops gliding closer and closer, a silent companion to your nights watch.
The nearest mountain you swam to, and as the sun rose once more, you found the slightest bit of a sandbar, something high enough to rest upon. And you stopped. a single rock stuck only a foot over the waterline, allowing you to rest your body against and pass out in exhaustion.
it was a barrel that woke you from your slumber. it smacked you hard upon your side, jarring you from your rest. you stood up, and looked upon several barrels from the "wetted wench". Barrels of rations and water. Provisions to survive long trips from the far northlands to the deep south, weeks away from any land.
the islands were unknown to you. When you spied them, you called them out, but had, before the fire, made it a point to ask the Captain about them, to ask for a look at the large map he kept rolled and in an oiled case.

after gathering the barrels and hauling them through a shallow mangrove forest, you managed to set up camp on the side of a hill. With shelter and food secured, you set about exploring....

Soon enough, you found something. A ruin. An ancient city in ruins. Toppled buildings of stone and wood, field stone walls twisted and riven. You moved through the ruins cautiously, more on the look out for animal predators than anything... intelligent.
A city of ruin.
a city of death.
Bones scattered throughout and within. under fallen walls, jutting out at odd angles, horrors of destruction. some though, some have arrow heads embedded into bone, laying haphazard within rib cages, scattered around or beneath bones. others, large spear heads, or javelins. Death roamed the streets of this city long, long ago.
As you explored, you learned that the city itself was built upon the descent of a large hill. The city spread far and wide, descending more and more. Long avenues, large enough for three or more wagons abreast to travel, ran straight down the descent. Every so often, the road was cut to level, and then allowed to descend once more. Each layer, a tier. At each level, a road that ran perpendicular to the main roads that descend.
Down each road, further and further, the hill goes, until it stops at a severe cliff rising high, impossibly high overhead. its not until you traveled deeper into the city that you discover that all the roads lead to a central point, connecting to something at the bottom of the hill, at the base of the cliff.
Curiousity overcomes caution. or perhaps it is prepared caution that allows for curiosity, that prompts you to pack a bag with rations and a couple water skins, a length of rope. YOu hated the idea of traveling so deep into these ruins, but if it allowed you an opportunity to escape this land, itll be worth it.

better than starving to death.

You decided to be bold, and took a direct approach to the bottom. The sun was blocked from the city after the height of noon, and you wanted enough sunlight upon you when you traveled up the hill....

Closer and closer you approached the cliff base. Closer and closer, the roads revealed their destination, or, origination point.

It was a platform. A raised, tiered platform.
15 layers, each one more narrow than the next, rose out from the rock below. Each platform four feet in height, and going from platform to platform required four strides. Four and four. Four, and four. Each upon the last. You turned and looked behind you, a sound from a dead city. no movement catches your eye, but it sighs upon the wind. the moan of a woman, the excited intake of breath. the sound of a lovers caress... you blink, the dead city lingers, staring at you. the still standing buildings looking down upon you, the intruder, the thief in the daylight. They judge you.
You turn away, looking back at your next step, and whip your head back.
you count
15 tiers.
15 perpendicular streets.

you summit the platform, the dais. cut into the top, runes. ancient, strange ruins, ruins that hurt the eyes to look at, runes that seem to wriggle and shift to your eyes. you blink, and blink again. when you look once more, the runes are- they're in Common!
"An offering is made, an offering is given."
"Water for water"
"Gold for Gold"
"Blood for Blood"
"the greater the sacrifice, the greater the reward"

I want to double check my understanding of the intimidation skill, especially the demoralize option, as combat is about to happen and i will be utilizing this BBEG

6th level sorceress
Cha: 20

relevant feats
skill focus: bluff
damnation 1 soulless gaze You gain a +2 bonus on Intimidate checks.
damnation 2 soulless gaze When you demoralize a creatures more than once using Intimidate, you can create stronger fear conditions rather than increasing the duration of the shaken condition

relevant skill points

Bluff: +6 skill points
diplo: +6 skill points
Intim: +6 skill points.

Relevant spell in effect: eagles splendor +4 enchantment bonus to cha

the bbeg does have the trait extremely fashionable, but is currently drenched in the lifeblood of the latest victim. as per the rules, this is negated.

So, the math pans out as

cha: 24

Bluff: +6 (skill ranks) +3 class bonus +3 feat, +7 attribute bonus = +19 total
diplo: +6 (skill ranks) +3 class bonus , +7 attribute bonus = +16 total
Intim: +6 (skill ranks) +3 class bonus +2 feat, +7 attribute bonus = +18 total

so, if i want to make an intimidate check, i roll a 1d20+18.

now, here is where id like the double check.

round 1: standard action: intimidate skill use. roll 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (12) + 18 = 30, DC 17. Hopefully i exceed the target by 5 or more.

now, the PC will have minimum one round of the shaken condition. they act, with negatives applied.

round 2: Due to having the 2nd tier damnation feat, i am able to use intimidate again, but this time, if i exceed the DC 17, i can chose to either lengthen the shaken condition, or i can increase the condition from shaken to frightened (DC 17), or if my roll is high enough, jump to panicked (DC 22). 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (17) + 18 = 35

does the effects of the conditions stack? each one says a -2 to attacks rolls (etc) is applied, so if a character is hit with the panicked condition, does that mean they suffer a -6 to attack rolls (etc)? or does it stay at -2, but they are forced to flee and what not?

Prologue

Gunl dropped the Wheelbarrol handles, allowing the thick frame to clamor hard upon the rough stone that makes the entrance to the narrow tunnel he, and others, had spent the last six weeks carving into. He lifted his hands over his head and leaned back, his back squealing in delight from not being stuck in it's hunched over stance for so long. He clenched his hands hard, the tightness of skin mixed with dirt and grime rasps upon itself while his knuckles cracked loudly. A groan of enjoyment escapes his chapped lips, and his eyes blink rapidly as they tear up from the sudden brightness of the noonday sky overhead. He rolled his head left adn then right, neck muscles stretching, bones cracking. Same with shoulders and hips, he rolled and cracked them all.
"humans were never made to work within the rocks" he muttered to himself, basking in the enjoyment of the stretch.
An image flashed across his mind, a rather pleasing image. Milnea laying underneath him, naked. a smirk forms on his lips as he recalls the torid details. It was the "stop" and the "donts" that made him the happiest.
Gunl wasnt the only one out in the wilderness mining this mountain face. He was the muscle, Milnea was the pleasure, and Master Onrik was the idiot in charge. "a fools errand" Gunl had decried a bit too loudly, for Master Onrik heard this and made Gunl pay dearly for his loud mouth.
"Tis not a fools errand. Moradin's gift is a precious metal, one you had best take heed of, young Gunl, if you are to pass to journeyman wizard with my blessing" Master Onrik derided gunl after slapping the man across the face with a handful of magic. "my studies-[/b] the old master clamped his jaw shut hard, his face screwing up tight as if he smelled something noxious.
"Please master, Gunl was only making comment for me[/b] Milnea begs gently, her voice a warm kiss on a cold night.
Master Onrik glares at the pretty young woman, his newest wizarding apprentice.
Milnea Ondrstic stepped between the two men, her dark skin shining brightly in the sunlight, glistening with a warmth and softness only the best kept ladies of Calimshan could achieve. A bad accident in Master Stalnic's tower left Milnea without a Master to learn from; Master Stalnic apparently disolved to death. Normally, the supserstition of an unlucky apprentice would have been the end of Milnea's dream of becoming a wizard, but she was considered too "new" to be afflicted with "cursed apprentice" vibe. her time with Master Stalnic was measured in hours, not weeks. Master Onrik accepted her into his care, and began instruct her on the wizarding arts.
Gunl himself wastn too keen on being anything beyond a journeyman wizard. He wanted to cast some cantrips, to use magic to manipulate the dice, the cards, the darts. That was his path to easy life. Cheating at gambling in back country inns and villages.
"bloody Wheelbarrol. Stupid thing", Gunl groans, his thoughts brought back to reality. He paused once more, remembering entering Milnea's tent after the Master went to sleep, to play with his new toy. A big grin etches across his face as he bends down and lifts the handles. Stones spill out the top of the Wheelbarrol, and cascade down the hillside with clatter and clacks. they tumble and flash, kicking up a fine red dust that drifts hazily upon the wind.
A weird sound comes from the tunnel, almost like someone slapping another.
"More like Milnea smacking her delicate head into the low wall." Gunl rolls his eyes as he wheels the one wheeled cart back into the tunnel.
It started the first night, his visits to Milnea's tent. They had talked on the ride into the high hills, and Milnea seemed charming, likeable. When shed turn
her head to the left a little, she looked absolutely amazing to Gunl. not that his standards were high, but perhaps they were so low did Milnea look so amazing. Perhaps it was because they were out in the wilderness, and he was the only male that was closer to age than her and the Master. In either case, after the Master went to sleep, Gunl made his move.
The daylight didnt extend very far down the tunnel, no more than 20 feet before the tunnel doglegs left, and the ambient light couldnt overcome the darkness. Small candles bequeathed a dim light that allowed the humans the ability to see the chiseled floor they had carved and magiced over the last few weeks. THe master had used beams of disintegration, the spray of transmutation, and the fires of evocation to carve this tunnel far faster than any team of dwarves could cut. Even Gunl and Milnea had added their abilities to the spells, further enhancing the effectiveness at removing the aged stone. Yet, with every spell, every casting, every cartful, Gunl couldnt figure out why. why here? whats so special about the Thunder Peaks? hed ponder after his nightly (unwanted) visits to Milnea. Yet he couldnt figure out. Moradin's gift the master had called it. Yet, he couldnt remember what this gift was.
They had discovered the small ruins two days before. Perhaps abandoned rooms is a more apt term, for there was no destruction due to time. the room itself was carved from the stone mountain itself, with a hall that ran further into the darkness. A drip of water was ever present, and sometimes gunl would catch Milnea captivated by the sound. more like going mad gunl snorted wryly, a dry grin upon his lips.
There were rods laid upon the floor when they broke through the wall, much to the master's delight. he shrieked and hollered, as if he discovered something intense. yet he hadnt revealed what it was. When asked, he clamped his mouth shut, hed stare hard at gunl, and even the gentle sweetness from Milnea wouldnt soften the Master's gaze, nor tone. You both should have studied more. Now, keep digging. He demanded.
Now, two days later, the hall with the drip, the partial collapse had been cleared, the large crack in the ceiling had been reinforced. The spell the Master had cast has revealed that the tunnel goes on for many many yards deeper into the mountain, over and under cave ins and collapses, yet it held promise. A vein of the gift was discovered. This held no interest to Gunl. He had already progressed from annoyed at the grit and dirt to anger, an anger he vented nightly upon Milnea.
The candle before the "entrance" to the room had gone out. Gunl grumbled and sighed. no doubt i'll be blamed for this. It's not even my job to replace the candles. It's Milnea's. He shoves hard the wheelbarrow, forcing it to hop the lip onto the proper floor of the room. With a clang and a jolt, the barrow settles onto the rock floor, and squeaks easily along. Grunting in annoyance, Gunl steps up onto the lip and into the room.
He never saw it coming.
Where there was no light, his vision flared brilliantly with an intensity of a multispectral rainbow! Yet the rainbow hurt, bad. really badly! The blow drops Gunl to his knees, and he pitches forward onto his hands. Immediately he throws up, his mind reeling, his vision dancing with lights where the room holds none. he tries to move, yet nothing works. he vomits again, and feels chunks of breakfast coming up with the retching. He gasps for air, each heave of his body causing the pain and disorentation to worsen. His arms loose their strength and he falls face first into his vomit. His eyes roll as he once again retches, but his body doesnt have the strength to fully expell the contents. he begins to choke. If his head hadnt been slammed on, he'd be able to control his body to roll away, to shift his position. Instead, his arms flopped without control, his legs stiffened.
Oh no. not yet her voice says suddenly.
a foot kicks savegely into his side, forcing him to involuntarily contort. The waste stuck in his throat is expelled, along with the wind in his lungs. Yet the effort is not without reward, for Gunl does roll away from the vomit pile. His mind is simply wrecked as he struggles to stay conscious.
Comparing the odd stabbing feeling in his back is a mere pin prick to the wracking of pain that hammers his brain. Yet, the stabbing causes his odd twitching though mostly limp limbs to truely fall limp.
There. much better. that honey voice wraps around his head like soft gossamer, lulling him further into... into...
a brilliant head flares through his head! the pain of his rattled brain immediately goes away, and the cotton packed thoughts and slurring snaps sharply into focus.
OW he groans. and then groans once more as a phantom pain flashes in his head. Yet, as he tries to tense his entire body, he feels-nothing?
what? what happened? what-
I paralyzed you. The healing spell only managed the lesser of damages. A shovel to the side of the head is a far lesser injury to heal than a severed spine.
He groans, and coughs, after vomit tickling the back of his throat. Anger and murder blaze within his imagination, if only he could get his hands on her!
his hands.
if only he could move his hands.
Suddenly he's rolled onto his back. The black woman that had been the subject of his nightly visits stood over him, pure anger marring her onyx beauty. Her eyes glowed with an internal brilliance of one exacting revenge! Her foot, which had been used to kick him onto his back now pressed firmly upon his chest. (he felt that! He could feel his chest! Small victory!)
He was about to snarl a reply back at her, to demand that she heal him again of his paralysis when his tongue stuck to his mouth, his jaw clamped shut. Abject terror stole his voice, his tone, his confidence.
Where Milnea had once worn rags, sandals, dirt caked her face, her arms, her curly hair, now a woman in absolute power stood over him. Gone is the dirt. gone is the rages. gone is the meekness. a hardness that was never displayed is now heard easily in her voice. Instead, she stood over him wearing brilliant red leather skirt, a white cotton blouse that hung upon her frame loosely, yet failed to hide the swell of her breasts. The skirt stopped just above the knee, yet her right leg, resting upon his chest, her leg was displayed well up the thigh from a long slit up the skirt. her face, dirt marring the beauty, now a perfect onyx statue staring down at him.
How can you be so stupid, gunl? she snarled at him. she grinds the pointy tip of a high heeled sandal into his chest, at a spot gunl can feel it. (and it does not feel good). he winces at the pain! All that time, sneaking into my tent to she lifts her hands up and makes quotes man handle me? Please. i let you. she shifts her weight, lifting her foot off the paralyzed man's chest, and savagely stops her foot into his face, breaking bone. Blood spurts instantly, coating his features with a red glaze. YOU stomp are stomp a stomp stomp pathetic stomp stomp STOMP MAN she stomps harder and harder, pulverizing bone and flesh until only a bloody mess that is Gunl's face remains, and Gunl's eyes close.

just to let everyone know who might have wanted to play in the metallica game, but didnt want to cuz of the possibility it might have been an evil campaign...

it is not an evil campaign

it is a good aligned campaign.

here is the link to the other recruitment thread

One small dot for Man...

Whew! finally have a chance to sit down and get the recruitment thread up.

Yes, this is the recruitment thread for my Metallica themed campaign, set in the world of FOrgotten Realms, 3rd edition.
The inspiriation for this adventure is,specifically, Metallica's Black album. Enter Sandman, Sad but true, etc, the adventures are designed to correspond with the song titles.

i chose the forgotten realms setting because its been neigh 20 years since i last set foot within the realm. I didnt like dnd4e, so i stopped paying attention to dnd products after that. It wasnt until a couple months ago that i came across my old 3rd ed Faerun map that came with the FR book that made me stop and think about this game setting. I remembered spending hours at my friends house, playing 3.0/3.5 and reading the FR campaign setting book.

character creation guidelines:

campaign setting: Faerun, 3rd edition. yes, this is an older book. I am sure there are ways to get a copy of said book. I have faith in you
ruleset: Pathfinder, 1st edition

starting location: Luskan
the adventure will start off within luskan and progress into the wilderness beyond. after that, it's up to you.

starting level: 2
attributes: Roll 4d6, drop the lowest. **if stat is below 10, reroll**
HPS: max
Starting gold: 1000gps

character classes allowed: Core and Base. Gunslinger is not allowed
archetypes: ask. include a link to the archetype to make it easier for me to review.

Feats: "Elephant in the room" applies
Skills: background skills selection allowed

traits: 2 traits allowed.

regional trait: your character will have come from some place. pick a region as found on pages 30-32 in the FR3e book. Chosing a region,and the regions preferred character class will grant you a free background feat. These will be feats that have a "region" listing within the feat (found within FR book)

please note: Dont bother with any feats that improve initiative. In my games, we do not roll for init, but instead combat order is resolved in post order.

I will consider evil characters. if you would like to play an evil character, and feel you are mature enough to play such a character, send me a DM. if i get four players that show interest in playing evil characters, i will make this an evil campaign.

I know people have shown interest in my Metallica adventure paths idea.

What im asking now is if people would be willing to play said adventures set in the Forgotten Realms, specifically 3rd edition setting?

If i get yes' i'll set up a proper recruitment for the gane.

this is a discussion page.

It was cold.
it was so cold.
It was way to cold for someone fresh from Absalom to handle.
Absalom.
Warm Absalom.
With it's warm waters, its warm lands, it's warm air...
it's warm winds.

how many? the gnome, Pertih Crombluhm, self declared (due to largest investment) leader of the new settlement "Robin Sage", asked in an equally angry, and, most surprisingly, concerned, tone.
Of the large Sabre-cats? Just the one, sir. Of men who were killed? None. Injured? four. AxaJ, the Chelaxian elf, replied matter of factly.
Pertih grunted, his teeth ground together loud enough to be heard over the wind outside.
Ninety nine hells above! he swore, slamming his fist into the makeshift table. The impact drove splinters into his hand as the wood split apart, crumbling to the ground. Above and beside! he swore again, emphasizing his point with a spit onto the floor.
Axaj stayed silent, recognizing the gnome's incredible anger fits. Only just a gnome, Pertih could hold more anger than 20 grown Orc's whipped up into a frenzy. No one knew why, he was just someone that was just angry all the time. Yet, this was a gnome who didnt allow his anger to cloud his judgements.
We need to scout these lands. We need to clear them of anything that would destroy the harvest of our farmers, kill off anything that would kill our livestock, Our livelihood! the gnome drove his finger into his thigh. He paused a moment, lifting his splintered hand to his mouth and pulling out a large sliver of wood from between two knuckles. Blood flowed freely from his wound and coated his chin and staining his shirt.
He looked as a vampire would, told to the children around the campfires for horrific amusement.
Axaj nodded in agreement. of course, sir.
Where does that put the count? Pertih asks, spitting another sliver onto his dirt floor.
Axaj looked around the large room he stood in. Technically speaking, it was the only room found within the new settlement of Robin Sage, the manifest desire of Pertih (and unnamed partners found in Absalom). Wood logs, harvested from the deadfalls that lay within the groves that dotted the southern shore line of the Loreane, stacked atop each other, making a somewhat secure structure that Pertih used for living and conducting business from within. It was the first structure built for Robin Sage. While not large enough to safely house everyone that made the 4000 mile journey from Absalom to this nowhere stretch of cold nothingness, something was better than nothing. Clay found along the shoreline had been harvested and slathered into the gaps between the logs, windproofing the structure. A small stone fire place had been built opposite the door, with deadfall limbs snapped and stacked next to it. While the fire was small, it gave some warmth within the building. More than what the people outside had.
156 souls. Axaj replied.
Pertih grumbles softly. five souls lost, and it's only been a week here. How stupid those scouts are. His teeth grinding could give grindstones lessons in milling as his jaw clenched hard. another, albiet shorter and thinner splinter is pulled from his hand.
This land was-Ack. no matter. we are here now. We need scouts. We need to know what, or worse, who is out there. We need to find tillable land. We must find game animals. Bashin boulders, we need game!
Sir, the cat has provided us with-
yes yes. we have cat meat. It's hard, chewy stuff. perfect for long road travels, for adventurers to suck on while they explore. But not for a people building a new town. Who do we have that's able to explore for us?
Well, sir, we have...Axaj begins.

posted to make proper campaign build for paizo website

this is a discussion post

normally, i write up some long intro story thingy that helps to set the tone and wet the player's whistle for the game. Nah, not this time. Just click this link for how it'll start

This will be a 95% combat game.

Character build info:

note!!!!
My exposure to classes beyond the core classes is slim. Same goes with the feats. So i am letting everyone know now that i am willing to allow crazy shenenigans to happen, but you have to have a link to said things on your character page. If you do not have it linked, you do not have it.
for example:

you want to play an orc anti-paladin, and have taken the racial feat "bullying blow", your character sheet better look like this
full orc
antipaladin
Bullying blow

and not:
full orc
antipaladin
Bullying blow

If that link is missing, you dont have it.

only exceptions will be for skills. you dont need to link them.

important stuff:

1st level
max HPs
35 build points Max stat is 18 (before racial mods), Min allowed stat is 10. no going negative to get more build points
Races allowed: Core races. Open to others, post the request on here, with a link, and i will read it over and consider it.

Feats: someone in the interest thread mentioned feat tax, or an elephant in the room tax, what ever its called. Im open to the idea, But id need someone to explain it better to me than what im reading online. Somethings not clicking in my head.

skills: background skills are allowed.

equipment: regular equipment, although, i would strongly encourage you all to get weapons that are outside of the norm. Everyone uses a longsword or greatsword. How about a Lucerne warhammer with a 4 foot shaft? you lose the brace and reach, but all of the style points for originality.

Total players: 5

i will allow background traits. 2

do not bother with taking any feats that have a initiative component to it. I dont roll for init in my games.

I am sure that i am forgetting something else, and someone else will bring it up.

special note to self so i dont forget it
Crit ranges: all weapons with a base 20 crit range will now be 19-20. so a pickaxe, has a x4 crit multiplier, is now considered a 19-20 crit range.

when rolling the damage for a crit, players and dm will make the dice roll, add all the modifiers, and then multiply by the crit damage modifier.

Character death: PC drops to -10 HPs, they are dead. No going down to CON level.

This effect does stack with any other effect that expands the threat range of a weapon.
i suppose i could just make up more feats like "more improved upon critical" and "greater critical" and "more greater critical" and "greatest critical", but you get the idea.

madness Youre going into hell/the abyss. the negative energies will begin to twist and warp your psyche. depending on how long you encounter such things, you pick up madness, and have the possibility of going mad. If such a thing happens, you become possessed.

heartstone: allows you to siphon energy from demonic entities upon their death to replenish health and/or magical energies.

Runes: some runes will be required to access/pass through portals/doorways/thresholds. some will provide early powerups (extra feats, bonus hit points, higher spells, etc).

Oh hallowed beings that spin the webs of this here site!

You guys ever consider rebuilding the play by post area of this website to include images? I know i can post a link to an external image hosting site should the need arise, but i thought id ask if such a thing could be done?

Ive been pondering a simplistic adventure idea, based upon the Doom video games.

you know,

kill everything,
kill some more,
kill the rest.

basically, It'd be 95% combat, 5% roleplay.

other info:

critical hits would replenish HPs and/or spell points

oh yeah, spell points, not spell slots

weapons that level up with player

increased critical ranges.

guns (...maybe)

Santa needs to be stopped. He has gone crazy! Killed and butchered all the deer. Cut down the great north forest and built a giant pallisade to protect his workshops. Manifested blizzards and anow storms to obscure the most determined of eyes. He's even drugged up the fai elves into muscular and straight elves capable of becoming killing arties. Anyone who dares to enter, is certain death.
Kill the santa, and have yourself the greatest queen in the land...

There can be only one santa

Pathfinder 1

Level 12
Max hps
25000 gold bstart.
6 pcs allowed
2 rangers req.

24. Hr recruit window

prologue

The large hall was deep, deep below ground. Deeper than the depths of most dungeons found far to the south, deeper than the deepest of mines dug into mountains and hills. It was so deep that even the faintest idea of sunlight even warming the very rocks that formed high overhead and beyond didn't hold an imagination. And yet, for as deep as it was, it was still a large room, constructed by Man so long ago. Ages ago. It predated the Breaking of the world, predated the War of the Shadow, and predated even the Bore. Any Brown Aes Sedai would have spent her liftime studying this enclosed architecture, enraptured by the sheer history that was held here. and yet, if an Aes Sedai were to have found her way into this same room, she would not be very long for the world.
The man who walked along the wall, passing by the numerous sculptures of men and women, names and feats forgotten to time, the sculptures remnants of a bygone era that heralded strength and unity for all; the man cared not for these things. For him, there was merely the here and now, the present.
And in this present, they awaited him.
He was not alone as he walked past the sculptures. His gaze lifted, as they always did as he passed, the rows of the statues lifting high up into the above; the lights of torches and fires unable to pierce even the darkness high above. and yet, he knew there were more statues and scupltures. One of the acolytes, the madness seeped into his core and rotting his brain to mush, drew deep, too deep upon the power and unleashed it upwards. The fireball had lit up the entire hall, the light pushing back all of the darkness within, showing to the man rows upon rows upon rows of these stone carvings lifting high, all set within individual alcoves. He had noticed narrow bands of something at the base of each. Those found lower, found down here amongst the fire light, held only a defaced base. Whatever was written has long since been lost to destruction.
The air inside this hall was heavy and moist. It stank of dirt, sweat, excrement, musk, urine, and more. yet, as pregnant the mixture was, it rolled away through the void, observed but unremarked upon. The shuffling of feet, hooves, claws, pads, and more, was loud, as were the grunts, bleats, growls, purrs, and guttural voices that attempted the mere communications of the twisted spawn that stood within this very room.
He walked down the side and suddenly stopped, his path blocked.
nightrunner a small voice sounded within his head, oozing across the blankness he held within his mind. Kill him! kill them all! spit- the voice cut out as another, larger more domineering presence enforced itself to the forefront of the mans psyche.
the man lifted his hand to his head, and released the fold that held the blood red veil across his face. It dropped and hung over his chest as he simply looked at the Myrddraal.
One heartbeat, the Myrddraal stood there. the next, it was crushed savagely together, the black blood of the creatures squeezed out of it's body to rain out wildly. It splashed near and far, coating the man and the Trollocs that stood nearest to the former Myrddraal. The man blinked, parted his lips, and ran his split forked tongue out. Each individual appendage licked a part of his lips, cleaning off the Myrddraal's blood. He brought them in, and the taste of bitter hatred and corruption filled his mouth. A part of him wanted to vomit up the filth, to spew up everything that was corrupted within him. And yet he didnt. He knew the sight reinforced mastery over the herd and scum that stood beside him. he stepped forward, the bottom of his boots squishing as they strode through the black gunk and entrails that had been the Fade.
He walked a hundred paces more along the wall and finally lifted his legs to step up upon the raised dais that held a chair and brownish black cauldron upon a metal trivet. He strode to the large pot and gazed into it, to observe that all was as it should be, and it was.
An hour before, the Trollocs that stand in the hall now, all strode foreward in a line. They cut deep slices into their forearms with their corrupted blades. The held the arm over the pot, and squeezed hard. the dark brown blood that pumped inside their bodies oozed and flowed out from the wound, and dripped into the vessel before them. One after another, they all did the same. More and more the cauldron filled, until finally it was nearest the top without overspilling its contents. Those trollocs that were left over, without the cuts, were sent out to await the next opportunity. The man looked down, and watched as the blood bubbled as if it was slowly boiling; large bubbles grew and popped without the presence of heat nor flame. He nodded once and stepped onto the next higher step, to look upon that what he was about to wrought.
Bring them in He said simply.
Striding out from behind the raised dais, bare of armor, cloak, shirt nor eyes, five pale skinned Myrddraals stepped out and surrounding the cauldron.
Cut yourself and submerge your arms to within the blood. The bonding shall begin! the man instructed, his chiseled and sharpened teeth flashing in the firelight upon the platform.
Blades were withdrawn from sheaths, cutting upon the same forearm as the trollocs, the left, and then immediately they knelt. The slipped their arms into the cauldron without a second thought, and waited.
The man, red hair blazing while his dead eyes looked upon, channeled. strands of Spirit, fire, and earth, all intermingled into the cauldron and its brown contents within. He could feel the weave, alight upon each unique donated blood, Fire for wrath, earth for strength, and spirit to bind. Again and again, it twisted and wove, drawing more and more from the man. He stood there, staring, channeling. The weave grew larger, and larger still as he tried to intermingle and properly bind with all of the bloods found within. He pushed himself, just a bit more, and felt the telltale limit of his strength. He grimaced slightly, his sneer catching his lip between his teeth and being pierced. Blood filled his mouth yet he paid no heed to the pain, as it was minor compared to what he was feeling as he channeled.
He focused upon the Caldron, upon it's contents. He ignored and blocked out everything else. The cauldron, the blood. The blood. The blood of trollocs, the blood of Myrddraals. The sickly taint of Trolloc Blood, the refined, distilled evil of Myrddraal blood. He pushed himself, harder still, to force the bloods of trollocs to bind to the bloods of the Myrddraals. The strands of Earth and Fire fell away, and the man focused upon the Spirit. It wove in upon itself, over and over, pale clear in color to his eyes, and it went from the contents, deep inside the cauldron, and then out it flowed. Thin cables of woven Spirit flowed out from the blood soup, and snapped out into the large hall, connecting pot to Trolloc. 10, 20, 30, 50, 80, 100 strands connected blood to Trolloc. five thick cables of Spirit, interwoven with individual strands of connected Trollocs, wrapped and twisted, laid upon each Myrdraal's head. Slowly the coils tightened, and submerged into the Myrdraal's mind. The man immediately released Saidan and stepped back, for he knew what would happen next.
the room suddenly exploded with noise!
howls of pain!
bleats of agony!
roars of anger!
the shriek of shock and surprise!
It wailed on and on, Trollocs falling to the ground and kicking as the Myrdraal clutched at their heads, mouths open in agony. The Trollocs kicked and screamed, some with claws upon their hands, immediately began to claw at their faces and heads. Musk, excriment, urine, all released into the room as the Trollocs lost all control of their actions. Some, driven insane from the binding, turned upon their kin and fell upon them. Claws and fangs all tore flesh and let more blood flow, adding more twisted scents to the air.
The Myrddraals were the first to regain their composure and stand up. Their faces screwed up, wincing, anger evident upon their half formed faces.
Control them! Force them to stop! the man said, loud enough to be heard over the noise.
One by one, each Myrdraal lifted his right hand and clenched his fist. A silent command was given, and the sounds of horror cut off. Trollocs froze where they were and what they were doing. Slowly, those that could, stood up. Those that couldnt were either dead or dying, and would be processed later. The trollocs reformed themselves into long columns in front of each Myrdraal that stood upon the platform.
Lead them out. The man instructed.
THe Myrdraal, one at a time, turned and stepped off of the platform, and out a door. A silent command was given and each column proceeded behind, following it out of the hall.
Soon enough, the hall was empty, allowing the man to sit upon the chair and relax.
He breathed deep several times, enjoying the rest that the chair afforded him, yet he knew there was one more thing he had to do. It didnt happen often, perhaps once every 10 times he performed the binding ritual. But it did happen, and he could feel it when it happened. He still held the first result in a cage deep below this room as well. He could feel the first one below him. Just as he felt this one.
Either come forward or die. he commanded into the empty hall.
A long pause filled the air, the sound of burning logs and death rattles the only noise. But slowly, hesitant at first, the sound of hooves stepping onto the floor strode forward.
It was a Trolloc, larger than most. It displayed wild blue eyes, bright purple feathers upon it's head and shoulders only to be replaced with thick black fur with two white stripes running down its back to a short stubby tail. Its legs were scaled as found upon an eagle, which mimicked the large bird beak upon the Trollocs face.
Well. Speak. the man said, waving his hand in encouragement.
In a loud squawk, it replied Where-what? it stopped a moment, and thought. why do you sit upon Agit Shulam Inrikertin's chair? the Trolloc asked.
The man blinked in surprise. He expected the usual "where am i?" or "how did I get here?" or similiar questions. Not this.
What? who? the man replied, surprise evident with his tone.
Agit Shulam Inrikertin, Third Servant for the Pashnitooko region, Third Rod of Dominion for the Hall. His chair. You sit upon it. the Trolloc squawked and hooted in anger and annoyance.
The man stared, dumbfounded.
This is the Hall of Servants within Collam Dan. The greatest thinkers and researchers of the world, all of them found here, within these alcoves. The Third Rod ensured their continual care as they slept here within the Hall.
The man looked up and around at each statue, at each alcove within sight, and imagined the ones high up above. His mouth opened slightly.
they are entombed here? he asks in a detached voice. the position he found himself in has now been reversed. He was the surprised one, while this Trolloc spoke of things in the ancient past.
The Trolloc hooted and chirped in agitation.
Yes!
The darkness within the man's mind, the overwhelming taint that twisted his mind into service of the Dark One, the Dark Lord, reasserted itself. He looked back at the Trolloc and sneered.
It seems that you may have more information that I had originally expected. From a time long, long ago. Perhaps it would be best if you were to reside...elsewhere....

this is a discussion post

The tainted man rides the lightning in the mountains of mist.

Unsworn Lord, inverted steel, takes shelter amongst those that thought to fight fire with fire

north and north, trapped under ice, airach proflean awakens at Callandor's sign

south and south, the hunters must go, held and escape agit'dredan, they bring back a fate.

creeping death upon the pattern, it descends upon the mirk. one young soul, a thread to be snipped, sacrifice the one for all

mental anguish, soul destruction, everything fades to black, absolution is only sought within tel'aran'rhiod

oasis upon the plains, caught between the white and the shine; the water tastes of iron and flows red, the Dragon's answer for whom the bell tolls

Messenger of fear in sight, dark deception kills the Light. Out from ruins once possessed, fallen city, living death. Lurking beneath the sea, great old one, answers the call of his name

The Foretelling has been spoken, what it means for the Hunters of the Horn remains to be seen.

***

Im starting up a second wheel of time parallel campaign thread. This game will be the same as is found in my other Great Hunt game.

I am doing this to allow for two groups to occur. one group will have a slow posting rate requirement of 2-3x a week, and another group will have a 4x or more a week posting rate.

i currently have 5 characters in my group (with another player waiting patiently to be introduced), so my goal is to have two groups with 4-5 players each.

***
character build info

Character Creation rules:
Attributes: Roll 4d6, drop the lowest.
HP: MAX As other players who have played in my games before will attest, you need them for my games.
Starting Level: 5th (dont forget your +1 attribute at 4th level)

Where the game is starting in the book series: The Dragon Reborn.
Location: outside Illian

Due to book/game starting point, the Asha'man Prestige class is closed to male channelers. A male cannot be an Initiate.

[spoielr=Source Material:]
Wheel of Time RPG book
Pathfinder books
the netbook Under the Dragons Banner (UtDB)
Special link to source material
[/spoiler]

The big list of Homebrew WOT rules:

classes and homebrew changes
Class restrictions: Male initiates.

Equipment: As per the WOTRPG book, pg 112. Take max starting wealth listed on the table and multiply by 5. Ie: noble is 5d6x10 at first level, equals 300mks. times 5th level, 1500 mks. pretty rich noble. You can purchase masterwork tools, but can only choose either a MW weapon, or MW armor.
unknown ter'angreal Everyone can make a d100 roll. on a 99-100, one of the items you purchased is actually a ter'angreal of some sort. I will work with you to figure that out and what not.

Background traits in the WOTrpg vs pathfinder:
The WOTrpg book has background traits built into it, but there is a limited selection. And a few of them provide an initiative bonus. You can use a pathfinder background trait, but it needs to be modified to the WOT setting with an apt descriptive text. Or if the WOTrpg book as a trait that you like, but has an initiative modifier for a benefit, we can work out a proper replacement.

The dragon emerged halfway from the cave entrance, just far enough to clear his wings. He opened his mouth wide, razor sharp teeth and massive fangs jutting out from his lower and upper jaws as a pale red tongue lashed the open space between them. A loud, massive groan roars out from his throat as he leans down and spreads his massive ribbed wings wide in the early mornings light. They snap out wide, quivering from the action, membrane that is vital to dragon flight stretched taut. His back, covered in deep dark red overlapping scales, similar in hue to blood, arches high. Loud snaps and pops come from within his humongous core as his back cracks and creaks in response to the deep curve. His lower jaw snaps shut as he shuffles his front limbs forward, the claws flexing and crushing the large granite boulders and stones that cover his great entrance. Both clawed limbs reach a massive boulder, larger than some ships that sail the seas near and far. Upon it, as the dragon grasps onto its front face, are deep furrows rent upon it's granite surface. A horrible scratch and screech fills the air as claws, designed to tear through other hardened armor and scales, cuts deep into the rock face. Large and small chunks fall onto the ground, adding to the already large pile of broken stones. The Dragon plants his feet back under his body as he lowers his back into its usual stance. He opens his mouth wide and coughs, once, twice, three times. Finally, a strange round object, glittering in the fresh days sun, spits out from his mouth. too fast to easily make out, it is small, no more than a foot or so in diamater. it shoots straight from his mouth and onto the ground, clanking and clanging as only a metal object hitting solid stone can do. He wiggles his jaws, and grunts. He curls his head upon his long neck down to inspect his side, and lifts up his left front foot to his chest. one of those large, impossibly sharp and strong talons digs into the scales upon his chest, and begins to wiggle and twitch. A sigh of contentment groans out from his lips. Old scales, pale red compared to the deep reds upon his back, fall to the ground and he scratches his side.
Suddenly, he pauses, going as still as a statue. the wind, low and soft, now gusts from the east. It whistles loudly before falling silent. Slowly, ever so slowly, he lifts his head, and makes eye contact with you as you stand still next to his cave entrance. You, and your companions, caught out in the open, making preparations to assault the Dragon within his lair. You can only stand and stare as he stares back at you. And, at the same time, both you and the Dragon utter Oh crap! as surprise is spoken out loud.

******

you stand upon the ridge line, staring out into the vast valley below. You had spent days pouring over old maps, book descriptions, listening to explorers tales about this hidden valley just discovered. So large that the next ridge line cannot be seen, so deep that the tops of the trees look like mere bushes bathed in shadow. And, in the center, an equally large mound rising up to just below the height of the largest of foothills you climbed up to this summit. You stare in awe with your companions, gazing at the incredible opportunity you have found! A new land, one to be explored, surveyed, conquered! New land to claim as your own! a new kingdom!
the land shifts.
rocks tumble and fall down the hills towards the valley floor below.
the land shifts again, harder this time, forcing you to spread your feet and arms wide. Those larger boulders begin to shift and groan. The scree upon which you stand shifts, causing you to sink an inch into the hard rock and pebbles.
The land shifts a third time, and you see the mound in the middle move.
you blink and look again. stone doesnt move on it's own, right? you think as again, the mound confirms the impossible. It shifts.
trees that grew around the mound begin to sway and ripple, from the mound out.
and then you hear it!
the incredible boom of rocks and stones being split.
once.
twice
three times
each one louder than before.
each one forcing trees to sway, the scree to shift, the mound to move.
Suddenly, the mound explodes!
Dirt, sand, brush, trees, boulders, stones; all of it explodes out in a massive cloud of debris that surges forth from the center towards the surrounding mountain sides.
the mountains themselves groan and shift in response, sending more and more rocks and stones to fall. Anything, including yourself, caught below these multi-ton rocks is crushed flat. More and more rocks explode from impact as the debris strewn cloud overtakes your position, forcing you to fall back. To where? youre not sure! just someplace more solid could be more solid? If the ground itself is rebelling... you shudder to think about this idea as you find a larger outcrop of stone more inclined to stay in place than to roll away. You and your companions crouch underneath, while the wizard lifts his hands high over his head and creates a shield. Stone missiles large and small impact and bounce off. His action saves you...
A sound, not exploding rock, not falling stone, not the sound of the fighter crying from a snapped femur; no, this sound is loud! so loud that it overtakes all other sounds. You clap your hands over your ears, yet you still hear it. It rings in your head, but also, rings within you. you groan in agony at hearing it. over and over and over again it roars, each time it feels like your soul is being plucked like a guitar string.
finally it stops.
the rocks falling stops.
the debris begins to settle.
the air clears up.
and you see it!
Large! so large! larger than large! large is small compared to this thing. massive! monstrous! greater than colossal the thing stands.
Covered in large spikes upon a hardened shell, limbs longer than normally found upon a bipedal animal. claws that can obliterate! a tail that pulverizes! a mouth that consumes!
Pure terror consumes your mind as you leap to your feet and begin to run, to run away!
That! That cannot be the wizard gasps, his breath quick from the reaction.
What? ow! what in the nine bloody light forsaken layers of hell is that thing! a dinosaur the fighter grunts as he falls and rolls down the hill instead of running down.
a dragon? the thief asks.
A dinosaur the druid chimes in.
NO! Worse! the world killer! Armageddon made flesh! made manifest! the wizard pants harder as he leaps high over a rock.
It's a Tarrasque!

****

You stand huddled together upon a cairn as purple lightning flashes overhead and strikes the ground. The mounds begin to split and tear as bony arms, covered in rotted flesh, lift from the ground. You look near and far, and everywhere the eye sees is nothing but a giant graveyard. the graveyard. her graveyard.
destroy all that, and you shall have immortality. She says from the black caverns of her raised hood, her scythe pointing out to the swarm around you.

****

Gadrin's gap. Legend says that Gadrin himself help this location against 200 orcs 1200 years ago, granting his name to this location for his bravery. yet today, Gadrin's gap may change to your name.
a narrow cleft in the rock walls, a mere 20 feet wide, it is the most direct path from the wastelands beyond to the capital of Han-ou. treachery from within had killed off the guards of this location, leaving the gap defenseless, and potentially allowing the horde of Orcs, goblins, kobolds, and more, all to descend upon the soft capital of Han-ou and her pampered citizens.
You stand at the opening, and ponder how Gadrin mustve felt when he stood there all by himself.
Prolly pissed his pants. the elf says with undisguised hatred, making you wonder if you had spoken your thought out loud. You could not tell whether the elf hated the dwarf, or dwarves in general, or all of the combined horde that is about to crash upon this gap. It mattered not. He was here with you now. All of you were. all five of you.
five against 5,000.
an epic for the ages.
(should the gap not fall)

******

Hey there! so ive had this idea poking about in my head for the last couple weeks now.

Have you taken on a Red Dragon when he just woke up from his evening slumber?
Have you encountered the mighty Tarrasque as it begins to start Armageddon?
Ever wanted to take on a cemetary full of zombies, skeletons and mummies?
what about being the lone guard against an almost unlimited horde of goblinfolk invaders?
Play mind games with an Aboleth?

It takes a long, long time to get our characters up to high enough level to take on these fearsome encounters. And what's worse, its entirely possible that the group, or the game, or the pbp, will fizzle out long before you can achieve that moment of taking on a level 20+ encounter. or that level 9 at 5th level. or that level 3 at 12 level (cuz who doesnt occasionally love that super easy encounter?)

I thought hey, why not just offer the encounters

so my idea is simple. I create the encounter, no fluff, no background stuff, just the scene, the creature (or creatures), and all you have to do is provide a character to the fight.

hello Paizo worker goblins!

I was wondering, has it ever been discussed as an option for this forum website to have the ability to save drafts of posts prior to posting? Ive had it happen to myself (and i know others have had it happen) where they will write up a long novel of a post (especially in the gameplay threads), and something will happen where i will hit a button or step away from typing for a long period of time and when i go and hit submit, i will lose everything that i wrote earlier. I have gotten in the habit of copying everything i write prior to when i post as i have had numerous novel length postings suddenly be eaten by the website monsters and nothing posts. and i have had the unexpected power loss happen as well, causing my draft post to be lost to the ethers.

So i was wondering if this idea was something considered or not? and if so, curious to know why it was not utilized? Also, If it was disregarded back then, is there the capability now to utilize this feature upon the posting boards?

Prologue

He knew he was mad.
That was the only explanation that fit for what he was experiencing.
I am indeed mad. A madness has taken over my self. a voice, his voice, something that echoed his tone and inflection of voice sounded in his detached awareness. For indeed, he felt that he was detached from what was happening around him. His sense of self view, when he looked through his eyes, aware of his surroundings, in command of himself, was disjointed. instead, he looked at something else entirely. as if he had taken a large step back from his viewpoint, and instead could only observe what was happening to the body he was held captive in.
Words appeared in front of him, as if written in a dirty, shaky hand. shock, excitement, fear, and oddest of all annoyance. Words that he knew in his detached awareness, that held emotional meaning. This warm prison was feeling these emotions. Run! HIDE! FLEE! appeared in front of him, as the view changed once again.
He had been looking through his small windows to the world beyond at a strange thing. a sharp corner, shaded sandy brown. It rose up, and down. And then the view focused, and the monsters shifted into view.
It was a slow process, the change in view. From that sandy brown that colored everything he could remember seeing before; buildings, benches, dry fountains, all of it that same sandy brown color. And when the view changed, from near to far, it settled upon those that moved within the sandy brown environment. Odd, distorted shapes. Eyes that blazed with the fury of the sun held within their heads. Two single pinpricks of the sun, blazing forth.
His view now changed once again, he is turning. No! I am turning. Am I? Is that me? I know not! Does He have it? Do I have it? he echoes to himself. The view shakes, the shapes move past at a faster rate. Strange things blur in and out of the view.
pain!
the view changed another time. from a long strange tunnel of sandy brown rising high up to the bright blue above, to one of darkness. Sandy brown once again, but this time, faded hues of yellows, blues, reds, and other colors beyond show within the room. The view stays still for a moment, and the awareness tries to push forward. to focus, nothing more. and yet
PAIN AHHHHHHHH something, something terrible presses upon the awareness, shakes it horribly. Objects lift again, covering the view, bringing blackness to the awareness.
NO! LET ME SEE! LET ME SEE
NO! YOU CANNOT! YOU SHALL NOT! I COMMAND! a sound comes from outside the view, yet echoed perfectly in pitch and tone inside next to the awareness, overwhelming everything within the mindscape.
pain pain pain pain these words flicker over and around the awareness.
The view changes, and comes into focus. The color red distorts other colors of blue and yellow upon something.
A body. My body the detached awareness says without emotion.
MY BODY! the sound comes again, large and heavy, pressing upon the awareness.
The view changes again, shifting rapidly, changing. Edges and curves fill the view.
directions movement the awareness says once again, deducing the rapidly changing view as to fast paced movement.
running it says once more.
More shapes appear and disapear as the view changes many, many more times. left right left left forward back forward right as if keeping track.
the sandy brown colors changer to darkness. Nothing had changed otherwise.
the awareness still felt movement. still felt change around it. odd sensations began to build, forward itself. forward its awareness. reaching out, stretching forward. hands. feels with hands the awareness says in its usual detched voice.
the sensation of slow movement forward stops. Another sound begins to creep into the area that holds the awareness. Subtle at first, but slowly it builds to a large heavy roar. but built into that roar is another sound, holding a fast rhythym.
breath. Breathing fast. heart. heart beating fast.
The sound continues, for eternity. for a second. for an unknown length of time. yet, as this moment continues, the roaring rapid sound begins to slow. the heavy roar, and the fast rythmic beat. Both begin to slow, becoming lesser and lesser.
Finally the rhythm is at an easy, steady beat. the roar is subtle, quiet. yet the awareness now sees sounding flicker across the area. At first, nothing, nothing happens. the sound stretches long, far longer than it could be capable of. the roar inside stops, held shut by something. sound sound sound sound pressure urge sound more pressure more sound more pressure sound and suddenly SOUND followed by noise flicks. noise noise scratch click
The monsters. they come
yes. the voice responds.
movement and the presence of movement fills the awareness void.
The view is still black, still dark, still devoid of shapes and colors. until
brighter the awareness supplies helpfully.
shut up the voice responds
I merely attempt to help
i said shut up! the voice says once again.
pain
you- you hit me
I hit myself!
The view comes back into focus. slowly, the light brightens, first providing subtle color changes. darkness turns to black, turns to blues and blacks, then to dark greens and blues, and more, as the view pushes closer and closer to the source of the light.The light is faint. On a moonlit night, it would pale in comparisson. yet in the darkness of this area, it is bright enough.
sound sound sound sound sound sound sound-[s] it carries on and on inside the awareness, flashing across the void.
the view changes. Objects change. walls. ceiling. floor. moving floor. Moving floor?[i]
moving floor?
the last is shock and surprise to both the awareness and the voice beyond, echoed thrice in sync.
[i]rippling
water the voice says as the view begins to grow dim, darkening. the view changes again.
[s]pain pain pain pain
the awareness, seeing this, presses forward, and as it expands, it gains more awareness of itself.
I hurt.
the voice coughs.
I hurt. stomach. knees. hands. feet. throat. back
the view shifts again, and there, a darkened color. The dimness of the light isnt able to provide full context of the strangely growing pool of liquid under the darkened fabric hanging from the individual.
a hand, controled by someone me? him? and presses against the stomach. PAIN! a gasp is heard. the hand recoils from the sharpness. the body clenches, bringing forth more pain. again and again and again and again
The view grows darker still.
How? why? the awareness wonders
the hand moves once more, and feels gently upon the stomach. Soft flesh my stomach is first felt, and then a hardness. A hardness that shouldnt be there. hard, firm. The hand explores. It feels the firmness, moving slightly away from the stomach. minor movement, and a new feeling is felt upon the tips of the fingers. harder, yet smoother than the previous firmness. A shape. a shape to this hardness. Thin. Flat. narrow. Wide at one end, pointed on the other. Sharp upon the thin, upon the point.
what- arrow? I have been shot?
FEAR
The vison, once dimming, surges into clarity. The dimness of the available light suddenly grows bright! Dull, washed out colors suddenly flash into clear focus! The Awareness and the Void collapse, and the presence within joins that without.
AHHHHHHHHHGGGGHHH! the combined essence scream in agony as pain fills awareness and existence!
Not pain from the stomach! But from the thigh!
Blood and ashes! both scream, and as one reach behind and feel the source of the pain. Another arrow sticks through the right leg, digging deep into flesh and sunk deep into bone.
Tuatha'an Even your kind know not to despoil this place. a voice says dispassionately.
Only those who seek to be Wise ones or Clan Chieftans can enter. Few survive. No outsider is allowed. Even you, Tuatha'an
That name! Tuatha'an! the voice, now one, thinks to itself, and realization comes crashing into his head.
He rears back, knees and feet still upon the floor, as his backside sits upon his calves. the arrow thats embedded into the thigh sinks deeper, but that pain is ignored as the man screams as one who fully comes out of a walking dream!
what have i done! my research! NOOOOOO! he screams again.
He twists at his waist, and flings his arm from back to front, and an object flies out from his hand. It arcs into the air waist high, before falling to the ground. Yet it doesnt land upon the hard earth. It lands fully into the flowing water passing through this underground chamber. From one end to the other it flows, exposed in this purpose build chamber. The object splashes into the water, submerging below the surface, and for a moment it is gone from sight. seconds later it reappears, bobbing up and along the shallow waterway before disappearing from sight beyond the next wall.
Creator! guide that bottle to- the man suddenly cuts short his speech. A third arrow, shot from an unseen man or woman, pierces his throat. he gurgles, clutching at his throat before falling to the ground, dead.

this is a discussion thread

Here we go! a proper recruitment thread for a WOT pbp by yours truly!

Character Creation rules:
Attributes: Roll 4d6, drop the lowest.
HP: MAX As other players who have played in my games before will attest, you need them for my games.
Starting Level: 5th (dont forget your +1 attribute at 4th level)
Where the game is starting in the book series: The Dragon Reborn.
Location: For the preamble, The game will start in the great city of Illian. In the Square of Tammaz, just after you swore an oath to find the Horn of Valere.
Due to book/game starting point, the Asha'man Prestige class is closed to male channelers. A male cannot be an Initiate.

Source Material:
Wheel of Time RPG book
Pathfinder books
the netbook Under the Dragons Banner (UtDB)
Special link to source material

The big list of Homebrew WOT rules:

Background traits in the WOTrpg vs pathfinder:
The WOTrpg book has background traits built into it, but there is a limited selection. And a few of them provide an initiative bonus. You can use a pathfinder background trait, but it needs to be modified to the WOT setting with an apt descriptive text. Or if the WOTrpg book as a trait that you like, but has an initiative modifier for a benefit, we can work out a proper replacement.

Special note
Group size will be a max of 6.

im sure i have forgotten something. Any questions, just ask.

I'm going to bed. Good night!

Anyone interested in a wheel of time adventure?

Anyone interested in doing a warhammer fantasy game?

hello! this is a discussion page.

Say again

I said i started the transcripter to record what you say.

Very good my lord. The warding here is strong. and-

Stesha?!

-moving to new location

Stesha! say again your last.

Moving.
to
new
spot.
wait one

*groans and grumbles*
stupid machine, you dont write my groans of exasperation.

My lord! are you there?

Yes Stesha! Did you find it?

I did my lord. A cave, deep in the mountain. Wards preventing all but the most powerful of magics. and strangely enough, the weakest as well.

Explain

I was able to utilize my knock spell with ease on various doors. But anything above a lightning bolt wouldnt work.

How do you know about the upper side?

I was forced to use the spellcaster.

Ah. Against what?

A force dragon, my lord.

YOU KILLED A FORCE DRAGON?!?!

No, my lord. I merely drove it into hiding. While the spellcaster was able to be utilized, it was difficult to control. I was forced to sacrifice for the spell to go off.

Yes. of course. utilizing such a powerful spell does demand sacrifice.

of course my lord.

Did you find the book we seek?

Yes and no, my lord.

Steshaaa

I found hundreds of books, scrolls, rolls and more my lord! filling numerous chambers! more books than the greatest of libraries in the lands. It's incredible! and the labs! so many labs my lord!

Labs with what?

I dont know my lord. Disection tables. chemical pots and glass tubing. some strange rotating devices. All of it covered in dust though. Lots of lab rooms show signs of near destruction. Cracks in the walls, boulders and rocks crushing objects in some of the rooms. Some of the doors have been barricaded shut with said rocks.

This...this was somewhat expected.

For this place to have survived at all, for this long, in this condition my lord-

Yes yes. *audible frustration*
Dang it you stupid contraption! no more emotions!

my lord? i merely-

Not you! the transcripter! it's- bah. Is there anything else to report stesha?

Yes my lord. A redeeming value. I discovered a catalog.

A catalog? of what?

the books, scrolls...all of it! everything researched, discovered, here, in this book.

Really!?! were you able-

to confirm your thoughts about this extinct guild? yes my lord.

excellent!

And...

And? what and

My lord. i heard you late at night, several months ago, talking. No, id say ruminating. About discovering some way to close the wound.

...go on.

I looked through the book my lord. and there is something in here that might please you.

Oh?

from what i understand, my lord, it's called blackhammer The summation simply says Ultimate destruction. and there is a hand written mark in the margin that says see also heavy adamantium, birds flying at different heights, new math phyis (force, magnitude of blast radius), circular exertions at high speeds, explosive nullification of magical energies, and some other word i cannot make out followed by kernal of creation and sphere of annihilation

intercessation?

no way to know my lord.

can you bring that book along with the others listed back to me?

I dont know my lord. I can try.

Do so. Good job Stesha!

I am honored my lord. It shall take me five months to travel back to you with this cargo.

I shall see you then. If you need assistance, you know how to inform me.

Yes my lord.

This will be a true one off adventure. the party's collective "palette cleanser", if you will.

Yes, the adventure is 20 years old. penned in a dungeon magazine from the crazy days that 3.0 was transforming into 3.5.

this game is primarily meant for my group from the ROTR campaign we are participating in, but i am open to allowing one more player

character creation rules:
PF1 character rule set
1st level
max HP
Max starting gold
3 traits
background skills are to be used

since this is a true palette cleanse type of adventure, let's do something funky with character class selection and stat generation.

Only Hybrid classes are allowed @loxley, you cant be an arcanist. you gotta be something else.

you have to select your class first.

dice rolls: roll 3d6+6, in order. single roll. whatever you roll is what you get for that stat. yes, even if you roll 3 ones for a total of 9. but, that also means you have the potential for a base 24! so thats fun!